from Canto I

141

But Julia mistress, and Antonia maid,
     Appear’d like two poor harmless women, who
Of goblins, but still more of men afraid,
     Had thought one man might be deterr’d by two,
And therefore side by side were gently laid,
     Until the hours of absence should run through,
And truant husband should return, and say,
“My dear, I was the first who came away.”

142

Now Julia found at length a voice, and cried,
    “In heaven’s name, Don Alfonso, what d’ye mean?
Has madness seized you? would that I had died
     Ere such a monster’s victim I had been!
What may this midnight violence betide,
     A sudden fit of drunkenness or spleen?
Dare you suspect me, whom the thought would kill?
Search, then, the room!” Alfonso said, “I will.”

143

He search’d, they search’d, and rummaged every where,
     Closet and clothes’-press, chest and window-seat,
And found much linen, lace, and several pair
     Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete,
With other articles of ladies fair,
     To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat:
Arras they prick’d and curtains with their swords,
And wounded several shutters, and some boards.

144

Under the bed they search’d, and there they found—
     No matter what—it was not that they sought;
They open’d windows, gazing if the ground
    Had signs or footmarks, but the earth said nought;
And then they stared each others’ faces round:
     ‘Tis odd, not one of all these seekers thought,
And seems to me almost a sort of blunder,
Of looking in the bed as well as under.

145

During this inquisition Julia’s tongue
     Was not asleep—”Yes, search and search,” she cried,
“Insult on insult heap, and wrong on wrong!
     It was for this that I became a bride!
For this in silence I have suffer’d long
     A husband like Alfonso at my side;
But now I’ll bear no more, nor here remain,
If there be law, or lawyers, in all Spain.

146

“Yes, Don Alfonso! husband now no more,
     If ever you indeed deserved the name,
Is’t worthy of your years?—you have threescore,
     Fifty, or sixty—it is all the same—
Is’t wise or fitting causeless to explore
     For facts against a virtuous woman’s fame?
Ungrateful, perjured, barbarous Don Alfonso,
How dare you think your lady would go on so?

147

“Is it for this I have disdain’d to hold
     The common privileges of my sex?
That I have chosen a confessor so old
     And deaf, that any other it would vex,
And never once he has had cause to scold,
     But found my very innocence perplex
So much, he always doubted I was married—
How sorry you will be when I’ve miscarried!

148

“Was it for this that no Cortejo ere
     I yet have chosen from out the youth of Seville?
Is it for this I scarce went any where,
     Except to bull-fights, mass, play, rout, and revel?
Is it for this, whate’er my suitors were,
     I favour’d none—nay, was almost uncivil?
Is it for this that General Count O’Reilly,
Who took Algiers, declares I used him vilely?

149

“Did not the Italian Musico Cazzani
     Sing at my heart six months at least in vain?
Did not his countryman, Count Corniani,
     Call me the only virtuous wife in Spain?
Were there not also Russians, English, many?
    The Count Strongstroganoff I put in pain,
And Lord Mount Coffeehouse, the Irish peer,
Who kill’d himself for love (with wine) last year.

150

“Have I not had two bishops at my feet?
    The Duke of Ichar, and Don Fernan Nunez,
And is it thus a faithful wife you treat?
     I wonder in what quarter now the moon is:
I praise your vast forbearance not to beat
     Me also, since the time so opportune is—
Oh, valiant man! with sword drawn and cock’d trigger,
Now, tell me, don’t you cut a pretty figure?