University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A magnificent Chamber in the Duke of BRAGANZA's Palace. —The Duke speaking to LEMOS and COREA—Other Citizens at a little Distance.
DUKE.
No more kind countrymen—This goodness melts me.
What can I render back for all these honours?
This wond'rous prodigality of praise?
What but my life, whene'er your wellfare asks it.

LEMOS.
Heav'n guard that precious life for Portugal!
To you, as to a tutelary God,
This sinking country lifts her suppliant hands,
And certain of your strength, implores your arm
To raise her prostrate genius from the dust.

DUKE.
A private man, a subject like yourselves,
Bankrupt of power, though rich in gratitude—
The sense of what you suffer wrings my soul,
Nor makes your sorrows less.

DUTCHESS.
Much injur'd men
Whom love not fear should govern—from this hour
Know we espouse your cause—We have not hearts
Of aliens, to behold with passing glance
And cold indifference, the ruthless spoiler
Smile o'er the ravage of your fertile plains.
We feel the fetters that disgrace your limbs;
We mourn the vigour of your minds depress'd:
With horror we behold your gen'rous blood,
Drain'd by the insatiate thirst of ravening wolves.
If we have nature, we must feel your wrongs,
If we have power, redress them—

COREA.
Matchless lady!
There spoke our rightful Queen, our better angel!
In us behold your servants, subjects, soldiers;
Though yet unpractis'd in the trade of war,
Our swords will find an edge at your command.

DUKE.
We neither doubt your courage nor your love,
And both perhaps ere long may meet the trial—
I would detain you—but our conference,
Might now be dangerous—Rank me with your friends,
And know I have a heart for Portugal.

[Exeunt Lemos, Corea, &c.
Manent DUKE and DUTCHESS.
DUTCHESS.
Why wears my Juan's brow that thoughtful cloud
Why thus with downcast look and folded arms?
When ev'ry other bosom swells with hope,
When expectation, like a fiery steed,
Anticipates the course, and pants to hear
The sprightly signal start him for the goal.
Think that the people from their leader's eye
Catch the sure omens of their future fate;
With his their courage falls, their spirits rise;
For confidence is conquest's harbinger.

DUKE.
Light of thy Juan's life! My soul's best joy?
Swifter than meteors glide, or wings of wind,
My nimble thoughts shoot thro' their whirling round:
A thousand cares distract this anxious breast.
To recompense the dark uncertainty
Of this dread interval, 'twixt now and morn,
Would ask whole years of happiness to come.
Now thou art mine, these faithful arms enfold thee;
But oh! to-morrow may behold thee torn
By barbarous ruffians from their fond embrace,
The flowing honours of that beauteous head,
May sweep a scaffold's dust, and iron death
Close in eternal sleep those radiant eyes
That beam with love and joy unutterable.

DUTCHESS.
O make me not your curse, as sure I must be,
The stain, the blot of your immortal fame,
If one soft passion like a languid spell,
Dissolve thy manly fortitude of soul,
And melt the prince and patriot in the husband.

DUKE.
That tender union is the healing balm,
The cordial of my soul—our destinies
Are twin'd together—Were my single life
The only forfeit of this perilous chance,
I'd throw it, like a heedless prodigal,
And wanton with my fortune—But alas!
More than the wealth of worlds is now at stake.
And can I hazard this dear precious pledge,
Venture my all of bliss on one bold cast.
Nor feel the conflict that now rends my heart?

DUTCHESS.
Why do you tremble?—These cold struggling drops—

DUKE.
—They fall for thee Louisa—my quell'd spirit
Avows its weakness there—

DUTCHESS.
'Tis cruel fondness,
It wounds me deeply Juan.

DUKE.
Witness honour!
Thy martial call ne'er found Braganza's ear
Cold, till this bitter moment.—I have met,
Nay courted death, in the steel'd files of war,
When squadrons wither'd as the giant trod;
Nor shrunk ev'n when the hardiest in the field
Have paused upon the danger—Here, I own,
My agonizing nerves degrade the soldier,
Ev'n to a coward's frailty—Should the sword
Which black destruction soon may wave o'er all,
(Avert it Heaven!) strike at thy precious life,
Should but one drop, forc'd by rude violence,
Stain that dear bosom, I were so accurs'd,
The outstretch'd arm of mercy could not save me.

DUTCHESS.
I have a woman's form, a woman's fears,
I shrink from pain and start at dissolution.
To shun them is great Nature's prime command;
Yet summon'd as we are, your honour pledg'd,
Your own just rights engag'd, your country's fate,
Let threat'ning death assume his direct form,
Let dangers multiply, still would I on,
Still urge, exhort, confirm thy constancy,
And though we perish'd in the bold attempt,
With my last breath I'd bless the glorious cause,
And think it happiness to die so nobly.

DUKE.
O thou hast roused me—From this hour I banish
Each fond solicitude that hover'd round thee:
Thy voice,—thy looks—thy soul are heav'n's own fire.
'Twere impious but to doubt that pow'r ordain'd thee
To guide me to this glorious enterprize:

DUTCHESS.
Thou shalt be chronicl'd to latest time,
Heaven's chosen instrument to punish tyrants.
The great restorer of a nation's freedom!
Thou shalt complete what Brutus but attempted.
Nor withering age, nor cold oblivion's shade,
Nor envy's cank'rous tooth shall blast thy wreaths:
But every friend to virtue shall inscribe
To Juan's name eternal monuments.
But see our friends approach—a-while I leave thee—
Remember still—thou must be king or nothing.
[Exit Dutchess.

DUKE
alone.
I will suppress th'emotions of my heart.
Quite to subdue them is impossible.
Enter RIBIRO and MENDOZA.
Welcome ye wakeful guardians of your country!
Had we in all the people's mighty mass
But twenty spirits match'd with you in virtue,
How might we bid defiance to proud Spain;
How scorn the close disguise of secret councils,
And challenge their full force in open combat!

RIBIRO.
Led by Don Juan, can we doubt th'event?
All things conspire—Antipathy to Spain
Is here hereditary—'Tis nature's instinct,
'Tis principle, religion, vital heat.
Old men to list'ning sons with their last breath
Bequeath it as a dying legacy.
Infants imbibe it at the mother's breast.
It circles with their blood, spreads with their frame,
Its fountain is the heart, and till that fails
The stream it fed can never cease to flow.

MENDOZA.
That furious impulse gives the spleen of fiends
To softest tempers, the unpractis'd arm
Sinews with lion's strength, and drives us on
Resistless as the sweeping whirlwind's force.

DUKE.
All is propitious! Every post is fill'd
With officers devoted to our service:
Already in their hearts they own my title,
And wait but for our orders to proclaim it.

Enter ALMADA.
DUKE.
Come to my breast, my sage admonisher!
The tutor and example of my arms!
The proud Iberian soon shall feel their force;
And learn from Juan's sword to venerate
The fame of brave Almada.

ALMADA.
Thus my prince,
Thus did I hope to find thee. Hence no more
Shall hard exactions grind the prostrate people;
Our gentry to their provinces confin'd
Languish no more in shameful circumscription;
No more our ancient noblemen be stripp'd
Of all but empty titles, tinsel names
Like tarnish'd gold on rags to mock the wearer!
Our posts of eminence no more be filled
With upstart strangers, or the sordid lees
Of base plebian natives—

DUKE.
My impatient breast,
Full of the expected joy, like a young bridegroom,
Upbraids the lazy hours that lag between
My wishes and enjoyment—The onset is—

ALMADA.
When St. Lazar beats five, about that hour
We'll welcome the sun's rising with an offering
More glorious than the Persians Hecatomb.

RIBIRO.
At night your friends assemble with Almada
In dreadful secrecy—Then with rais'd arm
We rush to cancel our long debt to vengeance,
And glut our thirsty blades with Spanish gore.

ALMADA.
If we suspend the blow beyond to-morrow
All may be lost—Three thousand veterans
Lye canton'd on the river's southern side;
Should our design be known, they will be call'd
To reinforce the posts, and guard the city.
Adieu then to our dream of liberty!
We rivet closer chains on Portugal,
And drag the doom of traytors on ourselves.

Enter DUTCHESS.
DUTCHESS.
Suspend your consultations for a moment,
Within the minister of Spain attends;
Forgive th'officious love of your Louisa:
No stranger to his arts, she warns her Juan—

DUKE.
I know he comes in solemn mockery
To make a hollow tender of his service
With most obsequious falshood.

DUTCHESS.
My best Lord,
Hold strictest watch on all your words and motions;
Guard every look, with that discerning villain;
Subtle, insiduous, false, and plausible;
He can with ease assume all outward forms,
Seem the most honest, plain, sincere good man,
And keep his own designs lock'd close within,
While with the lynx's beam he penetrates
The deep reserve of every other breast.

DUKE.
I too will wear my vizor in the scene,
And play the dupe I am not.—Friends, farewell!
Perhaps ere morning we may meet again—
The hour is fix'd, Louisa;—all prepar'd—

DUTCHESS.
Then this is our last night of slavery—
A brighter æra rises with the dawn.
[Exit Duke.
If we may dare without impiety
To challenge heavenly aid, and swell the breast
With confidence of more than mortal vigour,
Can Heaven stand neuter in a cause like this?
Or favour fraud, oppression, cruelty?
—Now gentle friends I am a suitress to you.

ALMADA.
You are our sovereign, madam—'tis your right,
Not to solicit but command our duty.

DUTCHESS.
Think me not light, capricious, variable,
If I who urg'd ye to this bold attempt,
And ever when your anger seem'd to cool
Pour'd oil to wake the flame and feed its blaze,
Now supplicate with milder earnestness
And strive to allay its fury.

ALMADA.
Speak your pleasure!
The obedience of our hearts will follow it!

DUTCHESS.
I know the measure of your wrongs would license,
Nay justify the wild excess of vengeance;
Yet in the headlong rage of execution,
Think rather what your mercy may permit
Than what their crimes deserve who feel your justice.
O! follow not the example we abhor,
Nor let those weapons justice consecrates
Be dy'd with drops drawn from the bleeding breast
Of reverend age, or helpless innocence.
Wilt thou take heed Almada?

ALMADA.
Fear not, madam,
All mercy not injurious to our cause,
Ev'n Spaniards, as they are men, from men may challenge.
For Indus' wealth I wou'd not stain this sword,
Sacred to honour, in the guiltless blood
Of unoffending wretches—rest secure,
A prostrate and defenceless enemy,
Has stronger guards against a brave man's wrath,
Than tenfold brass, or shields of adamant.

DUTCHESS.
Gen'rous Almada! well dost thou instruct—
Soft pity is not more akin to love
Than to true fortitude.—Thy soft youth, Mendoza,
Need not be tutor'd to humanity.

MENDOZA.
Heav'n and my conscious soul bear witness for me,
That not to satiate any private malice,
But for the general good, I stand engag'd
In this great compact.—'Twere a coward's vengeance
To turn a sacrifice to massacre,
And practice while I punish cruelty.

RIBIRO.
Till fortune give one victim to my rage,
Compassion and this bosom must be strangers,
No sanctuary, nor interceding prayers,
Nor wings of angels stretch'd to cover him,
Shall save that monster from the doom he merits.

DUTCHESS.
You mean the minister of Spain, Velasquez.

RIBIRO.
I mean the minister of hell, Velasquez,
That cool deliberate executioner;
If he escape, may this good arm rot off,
All worthy thoughts forsake, and scorn pursue me:
Write boaster on my forehead—let my name
Blister the tongue that speaks it.—Infamy
Be here my portion, endless pains hereafter.

DUTCHESS.
O would that sacrifice might expiate!—

RIBIRO.
Pardon the rash effusion of my zeal;
It deals too much in words.

DUTCHESS.
Not so, Ribiro,
Thy anger has a license;—and thy zeal
We know is generous, not sanguinary.

ALMADA.
Madam, we take our leave—good angels guard you!
We go to prove our duty in your service.
The homage of our hearts has long been yours,
And soon you shall receive it from our knees.

DUTCHESS.
Believe me, friends, your loves are written here,
In characters no time can e'er efface.

[Exeunt Almada, Ribiro and Mendoza.
DUTCHESS
alone.
And may the mighty spirits of past times
Rais'd by desert to bright immortal thrones,
Suspend awhile their task of heav'nly praise
In ministry unseen to hover round them!
Protect aspiring virtue like their own,
And in their bosoms breathe resistless ardour!

[Exit.