University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

An Antichamber in the Duke of BRAGANZA's Palace.
RIBIRO, MENDOZA.
RIBIRO.
A moment's pause, Mendoza! here appointed
By promise to the Duke at noon to wait him,
I could not mingle with his followers,
So saw it but in part—

MENDOZA.
The air still rings
With loudest acclamations.

RIBIRO.
Yes, Mendoza;
With joy I heard them—heard the vaulted sky
Echo Braganza.—'Twas no hireling noise,
No faction's roar of mercenary joy,
Sound without transport—but the heart-felt cry
Of a whole nation's welcome. Hear it Spain!
Proud usurpation hear it!

MENDOZA.
The whole way
Was cover'd thick with panting multitudes,
That scarce left passage for their chariot wheels;
The trees were bent with people; ev'ry roof,
Dome, temple, portico, so closely fill'd,
The gazers made the wonder. Here and there
A discontented Spaniard stalk'd along
Should'ring the crowd; and with indignant scorn
Turn'd up his sallow cheek in mockery.

RIBIRO.
We shall retort their scorn—Mark'd you the Duke?
His mind is ever letter'd in his face.

MENDOZA.
Pleasure was mingled with anxiety,
Both visible at once. But, O what words
Can paint the angel form that grac'd his side,
His bright Louisa! like th'Olympian Queen,
When o'er her fragrant bosom Venus bound
Th'enchanting Cestus—from her lucid eyes
Stream'd the pure beams of soft benevolence,
And glories more than mortal shone around her.
Harmonious sounds of dulcet instruments
Swell'd by the breath, or swept from tuneful wire,
Floated in air—while yellow Tagus burn'd
With prows of flaming gold; their painted flags
In gaudy frolick fluttering to the breeze.
On to their palace thus the triumph came:
Alighted at the gate, the princely pair
Express'd their thanks in silent dignity
Of gesture, far more eloquent than words;
Then turn'd them from the throng—

RIBIRO.
Why this looks well.
The Duke will sure be rous'd to resolution
By this bright presage of his coming glory.

MENDOZA.
With grief I learn he still is undetermin'd.
His fears prevail against the public wish;
And thus the ill-pois'd scale of our fair hopes,
Mounts light and unsubstantial.

RIBIRO.
O you wrong him.
I know his noble nature—Juan's heart
Pants not with selfish fear—His wife, his friends,
An infant family, a kingdom's fate,
More than his own, besiege his struggling soul;
He must be more than man, who will not hear
Such powerful calls, and less, who can despise them.

MENDOZA.
Indeed I cannot wonder he's disturb'd,
But doubts are treason in a cause like this.

RIBIRO.
Dismiss these fears—Louisa's gentle sway
Will fix him to our purpose. Night's chaste orb
Rules not the heavings of the restless tide,
More sure than she with mild ascendancy
Can govern all his ebbs and flows of passion.
But come, by this time the fond multitude
Have gaz'd away their longing, and retire.
Our greeting will be seasonable now.

[Exeunt.