 | The Rose of Arragon |  |
ACT II.
SCENE I.
—In the Citadel.Enter the King and Andreas.
King.
What! not the jewels that he gave her?
And.
No;
Though o'er and o'er assured, in taking them,
She did your highness' will. Her wedding-ring
Was all she kept.
King.
No murmurs? No complaints?
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None; but, instead, prayers for your highness' health,
And length of prosperous life!
King.
She would be thought
A martyr! She has heard how such have suffer'd,
Blessing their persecutors; and pretends
To imitate them! 'Tis the way to make
Misfortunes profit us—especially
With the mean—to whom the pang still brings the wail.
It moves their wonder, and they worship that
They wonder at! I warrant you she won,
With patient aspect, and undrooping mien,
More hearts to pity her, as she went forth,
Than tears and wringing of the hands had done!
And.
She went not forth by the chief portal, but
A private one, and thereby shunn'd the crowd,
That fill'd the street with ferment.
King.
By your care,
Or by her own?
And.
Her own, my gracious liege.
King.
'Twas much forbearance; but the girl is shrewd;
She knows unlikely things may come to pass;
The hardest heart may melt; my mind may change
To bind more fast, what now I have unbound;
Whereto she takes good heed no hindrance come,
Through lack of patience, now! She is very wise!
Her beauty, past compare, must all allow.
Can she be blind to what all others see?
And can she see it, without prizing it?
The homeliest maid, I ever met with, thought
More of herself than she would seem to do.
She is very wise!—Aught said she of the Prince?
And.
No, not a word; but paused before she went,
Gazing upon his portrait strainingly.
I think, but am not sure, at first she wept,
For past her eyes her kerchief once she drew;
'Twas then put up, and, to her other hand,
The hand that held it, join'd in fervent clasp;
And thus she stood, the spirit, as I thought,
Of very prayer, itself, personified;
For o'er her face the cast which masters give,
To paint the act of beatific trance,
Spread, flooding it with light! whate'er she thought,
The words were in her heart.—She breathed no sound
Till she had made an end; as I inferr'd
From a deep sigh she drew; whereon she turn'd
With aspect heavenly calm, as worshippers,
That rise refresh'd, from the renewing altar.
King.
You speak this heartily!
And.
I speak the truth!
King.
You say the Cortez, in last night's debate,
Made question of my faculty to break
This most pernicious marriage?
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Many spoke
To that effect,—made it a pretext for
Rehearsal of old grievances.
King.
What they
Call grievances!—Was there much heat?
And.
There was:
But that within doors, cool to that without,
Where up and down the streets the people ran,
Women and men, but women frequentest,
Crying to one another, as they pass'd,
“The Rose of Arragon!”—“Fall Arragon
Ere she be trampled on!”—“No Rose, no King!”
King.
Suspect you danger?
And.
Yes, when discontents
Draw women out of doors, revolt is strong.
King.
The garrison is under arms?
And.
It is,
And, every quarter of an hour, patrols
Are sent into the town, to go the rounds,
And keep in check disorder, by the show
Of preparation and alacrity!
King.
You have not yet gone forth?
And.
Not yet, my liege;
I wait for Carlos, to report the state
And prospect of affairs. It is his hour—
And he at hand as soon.
King.
Well, Carlos?
Enter Carlos.
Car.
All
Was quiet through the night; and, as the night,
I would aver the day were like to pass,
But for unwonted calm. An hour, or more,
'Tis past the time the shopkeeper should ope—
And he is up, but bides with shutters closed;
The craft of the artificer stands still,
And yet he is awake since break of day—
The cries are silent on the crowdless streets;
The very churls, whose meals on errands wait,
Stand not upon the watch for customers,
And breakfast-time at hand! 'Tis market-day—
And to the gates no troops of peasants come,
With garden-viands, flocks, or herds, or aught
Within the list of rustic merchandise.
None is at work, save the tired sentinel
Who paces, out and back, his beat; on watch
'Gainst dangers yet unseen.
King.
It cannot be!
Car.
What cannot be, my liege?
King.
That they design
Revolt!
And.
There's eight o'clock.
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Hark, sirs!—The town
Is all at once astir! What is't?—Look out!
Car.
Their houses, one and all the citizens
Have left, and throng the streets;—their cloaks are on,
Close-folded on their breasts; they move one way,
As on one common object bent!
King.
Descend:
Wait till your eye on some acquaintance falls,
Then call and question him. Go both of you—
[Exeunt Carlos and Andreas.
What is't to be a king?—To govern?—Ay!
With such observance as the pilot meets,
Who thinks to rule the sea! not more perverse,
Than moody ever-changing subjects are!
Rejoicing in his helm, he ploughs along!
Leagues fleet like miles beneath his flying keel!
Before its time his port begins to loom!—
When takes him, right ahead, all unawares,
A furious shift of wind; which, if he 'scapes
From foundering, blows him, from his jocund course
A thousand miles away!—So with a king!
A month ago the war was popular;
My people's wishes with my army blew,
Which from the gates of Saragossa march'd
'Mid shouts that would have made their cannon mute,
Suppose 'twere set to roar.—I was a god!
Knees bent to me as I retraced my steps,
Returning to my palace! All at once
The humour changed. From end to end the realm
Became one caldron, ready to boil o'er
With discontents! A little more of heat
Was wanted only—that is now supplied!
The meanest sire in Arragon, suppose
His son, like mine, offended, would be free
To cast his bride and him to beggary!
But I must needs forbear, because—a king!—
Enter Carlos.
Your tidings, Carlos?
Car.
In our power we hold
The cause, if not the head of the revolt,
That boldly now breaks forth!—Within the gates,
Acting in concert, as 'tis shrewdly guess'd,
With the malcontents,—the Rose of Arragon,
Attended by a peasant, new alighted,
With steed, nigh spent, as through unwonted haste—
Has been surprised, made captive of, and now
Attends with those who guard her.
King.
Did we straight
Decree her death, who could arraign our justice?
On pain of death, did we forbid return;
On her account defection menaces
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Our warning and our wrath! To durance with her!
Olivia
[without].
The King! the King! As you are loyal men,
Bring me before him!
King.
Is't to me she comes?
Let her approach.
Olivia.
I must and will pass in!
[Rushes in and sinks exhausted before the King, Velasquez following.
Forgive, my liege, the limbs that can't command
The homage they have all the heart to pay;
And helpless throw themselves along the ground,
Instead of kneeling there.
King.
How happens this?
Girl, I could rail, but thy pale cheek disarms me!
What! art thou scared to see the conflagration
Which thou, thyself, hast raised? Or hast return'd
To Saragossa, whence I banish'd thee,
To fan the discontent that takes thy part;
And, now thou art detected, makest pretence
On my account thou art here?
Olivia.
I could not play,
My liege, a double part! I know not how!
On your account alone I brave your frown;
Which, though it held the lightning's power to blast,
Should not prevent me, for thy health and life,
To crawl to thee! to clasp thy knees! and, with
A heart as full of love as loyalty,
To warn thee of thy danger!
King.
Loyalty!
And love!—What love?
Olivia.
O can you not conceive
Love may be cherish'd, for another's sake,
Towards those who pay us back no grain of love—
Nay, pay us hate instead?—'Tis true, my liege!
Indeed, indeed! 'tis true!—My heart's dear lord
You have taken from me!—'Cross the contract which
Gave him to me, drawn pen!—torn off the seal!—
Stripp'd me to the skin, as 'twere, and cast me forth!—
Yet, could my life this moment stead you,—stand
In the place of yours, and yours were forfeited,
Assuring yours to you—so tender is
The love I bear you, for my dear lord's sake,—
I would not look at it, ere I would lay it down!
King.
What wouldst thou gain by such a sacrifice?
Olivia.
Content of mine own heart!—and having that,
I would bless Heaven and die.
King.
This is romance,
Whose forms are of the brain!—but, look for them
In act, you find them not; no more than shadows
Which mock the hand, would grasp them.
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Take a proof!
King.
Ay, canst thou give me one?
Olivia.
I come not back
Rebelliously to Saragossa, whence
I went with but obedience in my heart.
If you except my love for my dear lord—
I had no thought, save of the arms I had left;
And those, my father's, I was going to.
King.
What made thee then return?
Olivia.
My fears for thee!
Roused by the danger thou'rt environ'd with.
King.
How couldst thou see the thing that was behind thee;
That had not broken forth, till thou wast gone?
Olivia.
I speak, my liege, of fears that were before me,
With word of which, this friend prevented me,
Instructed by my father!—Arragon,
As well as Saragossa, is in arms;
Taking advantage of the distant war
Which leaves your kingdom weak.—Not your throne only,
Your life is threaten'd; so, did I return
Against thy will, to warn thee for thy safety,
To urge thee to consult it; which to do,
Flight must embrace this moment!—wouldst thou fly,
To fly along with thee—thy hostage only!—
And wouldst thou not, to die along with thee!
King.
What proof have I of this?
Olivia.
That I am here!
What! dear my liege, won't you believe me still?
A simple villager had ta'en my word!
Who would be great, when greatness breeds mistrust!
My liege!—My liege!—I am no courtier's child;
My father ne'er had need to hide his heart,
So ne'er had thought to teach me to hide mine;
And though I have heard men speak and think diverse,
The act I never yet could comprehend;
But, when their lips were open'd, listen'd still,
To hear their hearts!—What cause should bring me back
Except your health?—your safety?—Oh, my liege!
Is it the roof whence, banishing my lord,
You banish'd me enough? is it the bed
Whence you divorced me, not content with that?
Is it the face which, when I saw it last,
Transfix'd me with a look that wish'd me dead,
And almost struck me so?—What were the words
Of him who spoke your will to me?—“On pain
“Of death never to see this palace more!”
I see it!—I incur the penalty!
My life is forfeit!—Take it!—Save thy own!
The only end that brought me back again!
King.
I must believe her;—yet can I believe
Deeds worthy richest blood, can live without?—
Incredible!—Yet true!—Well, Carlos,—well?—
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Hast met with those, can tell thee what's afoot?
Car.
No, my good liege, save by surmises.
King.
Well;
And what surmise your friends?
Car.
Some outbreak of
The citizens! But we can master them.
King.
Yes, we can master Saragossa!—but
There is fear of Arragon.
Enter Gomez.
Gomez.
The citizens
And troops contend to hold the city gates,
Which now the peasantry beset in throngs,
As on some festal day, but not with looks
Pertaining to a feast.
Olivia.
Sirs! if you are men,
Persuade the King to fly—not Saragossa,
But Arragon, on treason is intent!
And, thereunto, moves hither all its power,
With threats pernicious to the life of the King.
Velas.
Fly! fly, my liege!
Gomez.
The subterranean vault
That, from the castle, leads without the walls,
Wide from the quarter whence this tempest breaks—
That gain'd, you are safe!
And.
The soldiery give way!
[From window.
King.
I will not fly!—Girl, you have told me truth!
Consult your safety,—join your friends,—leave me!
Olivia.
I will not quit your side,—I have a brother,
Will hear his sister's voice; friends, that will hear it.
Whate'er betide, my life I link with yours!
Both shall survive, or both one ruin share!
King.
Girl, are you flesh and blood?
Olivia.
No, but a rock!
Stand back!
[Meeting Almagro, and others entering.
Alma.
The King himself!—This crowns our work,
Our expedition in his death complete.—
Upon him!
Olivia.
Hold! he is my prisoner!
And I have guaranteed his life!—Take mine
If you choose, Almagro.—If you don't, spare his,
Or you shall take my life.—Well were it said
The Rose of Arragon kept not her word;
When every Spanish woman, who deserves
To bear her father's name, respects her pledge!
These are my friends, Almagro, more than yours!
They are my brother's friends yet more than mine!
They have mothers, sisters, loves, or wives, Almagro!
They will respect my bidding for their sakes.
Alma.
For your sake come I hither.
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And I thank you.
And, for the good you mean me, will not shame you;
Nor, countrymen and friends, will I shame you,
And leave it to your enemies to say,
While you stood by, I broke a Spaniard's word!
Alma.
Suffer ye, friends, a woman thus to thwart you?
Olivia.
Almagro, who is with you?—who is leader?
Alma.
Your brother.
Olivia.
Wait his orders, then!
Alma.
I do them!
Olivia.
No, on my honour!—by his father's honour!—
His own! He seeks but justice from the King,
No drop of the King's blood! He loves his sister,
But yet he is the subject of the King!
He is a patriot—no regicide!
Alma.
Friends, do you halt half-way? Why come ye hither?
Why are your swords in your hands? You are standing here?—
There stands the King, and lives!
Cortez and Nunez.
He should not live!
Alma.
Who seconds me? [Going to advance.]
[Olivia throws herself upon the King.
Olivia.
Come on, then, if you will;
My word, you hear, is pledged to save the King!
Either respect my pledge, or see me die!
Around the King's life thus do I wind my own;
If not a safeguard, then a sacrifice!
Alas.
[without].
Olivia!
Olivia.
Here, Alasco!—Speed, my brother!
Here—Here!—He comes! Now to touch the King who dares?
Alasco rushes in, followed by others.
Alas.
My sister!
Olivia.
Ay, my brother!
Alas.
How! the King!
[Uncovering.
King.
Your sovereign, sir!—Are you a subject, or
A traitor? If a traitor, in his blood
Consummate what you have begun,—whereto
He lends you his own sword!
[Throws down his sword, scornfully.
Sirs, sheathe your blades! With loyal hearts like yours
The King commands, as long as the King lives!
In strife like this—not strife but butchery—
You shall not stain your blades!
Alas.
My liege, except
What's shed without, no blood shall flow to-day.
Sheathe your swords, comrades, Saragossa's won!
To custody the King will condescend
To render up his person. You, Velasquez,
Will in safe wardship see the King bestow'd.
Your heads uncover'd, sirs!—'tis Majesty,
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[The King and others retire, guarded by Velasquez and Peasants—all uncover as he goes off.
Come, Olivia,
Sister, you are no offcast now:—Sit there:
[Takes her to the throne, and places her upon it.
You are the Prince's wife. Till he comes back
And owns her such, the King allowing it,
And to our grievances giving full redress,
Who should be Regent, brothers?—who if not
The Rose of Arragon!
| The Rose of Arragon | |