Thou lookest on one familiar with th' extremes
Of grandeur and of misery.
Sylveira. Stranger, speak,
Thy name and purpose briefly, for the time
Ill suits these mysteries. I must hence; to-night
I feast the lords of Spain.
Sebastian. Is that a task
For King Sebastian's friend?
Sylveira. Sebastian's friend!
That name hath lost its meaning. Will the dead
Rise from their silent dwellings, to upbraid
The living for their mirth? The grave sets bounds
Unto all human friendship.
Sebastian. On the plain
Of Alcazar, full many a stately flower,
The pride and crown of some high house, was laid
Low in the dust of Afric; but of these
Sebastian was not one.
Sylveira. I am not skilled
To deal with men of mystery. Take thou off
The strange dark scrutiny of thine eye from mine.
What mean'st thou? Speak!
Sebastian. Sebastian died not there.
I read no joy in that cold doubting mien.
Is not thy name—Sylveira?
Sylveira. Aye.
Sebastian. Why, then,
Be glad. I tell thee that Sebastian lives!
Think thou on this, he lives! Should he return,
—For he may yet return; and find the friend
C 2
