_Fer._ Your city, Approached by sea or from the roofs surveyed, Smiles back upon the gazer like a queen That hears her praise. Nearer to speak I’ll grudge not, When I may nearer know: but since we came There’s been no hour a stranger might dare shew His face in the streets. _Bl._ The time is now unquiet. _Fer._ Rather I’d say government given over 10 To murderous bandits, who range up and down Unchecked: to whom the king’s commissioners Were just the daintiest pricking. If I may brag Of home, our cities are more orderly. _Bl._ ’Tis a hot-blooded race, sir, full of stirrings, Subject to fermentation, and like good wine Ever the better for it. _Fer._ But can you tell me The real cause of these disturbances? _Bl._ Nothing is easier, sir. Your viceroy, Hugo, This is the point, is plunged in disesteem. 20 He has lost the fear and won the hate of the people. Already, ere ye came, the news ye bring Of the king being dead, was buzzed. Since at his death His viceroy’s office falls to ground, our townsmen Seize on this interval, wherein they hold He hath no jurisdiction, to discredit him, Kill him maybe, if nothing else will hinder His reappointment. They but make the most Of their occasion: that is all. _Fer._ But how Can a mere handful of such ruffians hold 30 The city, when the loyal troops are his? _Bl._ ’Tis known to the people that their cause hath found An ear in Spain: and here among the barons Are many who wish well to the revolt. Should Hugo push to extremes he might discover Most potent enemies. Remember, sir, ’Twas a street scuffle in this very town, That drave the French from Sicily. _Fer._ The thought Brings me no comfort. _Bl._ Wherefore ’tis his policy To meet the present rage by such concessions 40 As may be popular, and to give forth The king is ill, not dead. ’Tis for this reason No mass is sung nor mourning liveries worn: To-night’s festivity, such as it is, Hath only this pretence. _Fer._ Are the two ladies His daughters both? _Bl._ The taller and the fairer, The lady Constance, is his only daughter. Your fine duke Philip, who comes now from court With such a mightiness, was once her lover. _Fer._ That doth not single her.