University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Seville. The Plaza Real. Parties of Soldiers and armed Citizens cross the stage; some crying “Lara!” some “Fernando of Aragon!” others “Trastamara!” Enter Coronel and Cañedo.
Cañedo.
Heavens! what a hubbub!

Coronel.
I have stood in breaches
When the air hissed with shafts and javelins,
And rang with voices of the engineers
Cheering their comrades at the thundering rams—
When furious swords were hammering horrid din
On shield, and helm, and hauberk—when great walls
And lofty turrets, with incessant crash,
Strewed shuddering earth with ruin, far and near;—
I 've heard the thunder-clouds, among the hills,
Roll as if some Titanic monster drove
His ponderous car across their rocky tops;—
I 've heard the bellowing ocean send his tides,
Goaded to madness by the hurricane,
Full forty fathom up the groaning cliffs,
Until his spray salted the stooping clouds;—
I 've heard a woman scold—heard thee blaspheme—
Have dreamed of hell, and chaos, and such things;—
But never, since I pricked an ear at sound,
Heard I the clamor of this frantic town!

[Shouts within.]
Cañ.
I'll be as crazy as the best of them.
Castile for Lara!

Cor.
Ho! for Lara, ho!
Yell, yell, Cañedo—yell him to the throne!

Cañ.
Now, for my part, I like a quiet fight;
I 'd rather split a head than split my lungs.

[Shouts within.]
Cor.
Hear how they roar! (Enter a Soldier.)
The newest news, good friend?

Soldier.
The king is dead.

[Exit, hastily.]
Cor.
That all? I thought the devil
Was dead and buried, and his fry broke loose.

Cañ.
I'll bet he lies.

Cor.
Doubtless. The knave 's too wise
To speak the truth without some provocation.
Yet, for all that, die young Don Pedro must,
If death's grave heralds, the Sevillian doctors,
Are to be trusted in their mystery.

Cañ.
Our side is best.

Cor.
For once thou 'rt in the right.
Lara is nearer to the crown than they
Who start their adverse claims.

Citizens and Soldiers.
(Within.)
Ho! Lara! Lara!

(Enter Lara and Villena, followed by a crowd of Citizens and Soldiers.)
Lara.
O, curse his treachery! That faithless wretch,
Sly Alburquerque, has deserted me,
And sides with Aragon.

Villena.
His reason 's plain;
You 're in Seville, and Aragon at home.
'T is time the traitor wants—time, only time.

Lara.
Curse, curse his baseness!

Cañ.
Lara for Castile!

Cor.
Leave off thy yells, and take to curses, friend;
Thou seest 't is the new fashion. Curse Don Juan
Alonso de Alburquerque, by each name
He got at baptism!

Cañ.
Ay, ten million curses
Hunt him to death, and make him peaceable!
I'll swear his present life has little ease.

Cor.
Is the king dead?

Vil.
Not dead, but dying fast.

Cor.
Lara for king!

Lara.
You side with us, brave sir?
What shall we do?

Cor.
Seize on the crown, of course;
And when you have it on, let Aragon
But reach to pull it off.

Vil.
Sound counsel, uncle;
For were the crown in hand, we 'd strain a while
Ere you should lose it.

Cañ.
To the palace, then!
Long live King Lara! What 's his christian name?

[To Coronel.]
Cor.
Juan—thou block!

Cañ.
Long live King Juan! Shout!

All.
Long live King Juan!

(Enter a crowd crying, “Aragon!”)
Cañ.
Let 's begin our work
By cutting these knaves' throats.

Cor.
Well thought of, faith!
Room for the king, or we will tread you down!

(The crowd shouts, “Castile for Aragon!”)
Cañ.
Ho! forward, then!

[Draws.]
Cor.
Long live King Juan! On!

[All draw.]
(As the opposing parties are about to engage, enter Don Pedro, supported between Alburquerque and another Nobleman, followed by Knights, Attendants, Guards, &c.)
Alburquerque.
Back! you who hold allegiance to the king!

All.
(Uncovering.)
The king! the king!

[They fall back.]
Don Pedro.
What shouts were those we heard?
Who cried, “King Juan,”—who cried, “Aragon,”—
While I, King Pedro, reign?

[Staggers.]
Alb.
(Supporting him.)
It was not you,
My lord of Lara, certainly not you?
You are too modest—if I know your lordship—
To bellow treason in your own behalf.

Lara.
It was not I.

Alb.
Nor Don Fernando, either;
His head is too well set upon his neck,
To wish it off. Hey, Coronel?

Cor.
'T was I.

Cañ.
And I, so please you.

Cor.
(Aside to him.)
Hush thy stupid noise!
Keep thy thick tongue away from my affairs!
Hearing his grace was dead, and loving so
The kingly office, for his royal sake,—
As widows who lament a husband's loss
By marrying another,—we bethought us
That 't was high time to have another king.
Finding the lord of Lara close at hand,
We, boiling over with our loyal mood,
Cried him for king, with the best lungs we have—
Much in the fishwives' manner.

Cañ.
(Aside.)
There 's a lie
To whiten Judas!

Alb.
So you—Ha! ha! ha!
[Laughing.]
You are the boldest beggar in Castile!
Pardon these men, your grace,—because, your grace,
We dare not slaughter them—that 's all.

[Aside to Don Pedro.]
Don P.
We do.

All.
Long live King Pedro!

Don P.
(Aside to Alburquerque.)
I am very ill;
Take me away, or I shall swoon.

Alb.
Bear up!
Swoon, and your crown falls off.

Lara.
What ails the king?

Alb.
Naught, naught. Your treason has afflicted him;
He hides upon my neck his gracious tears.
Lean hard on me, your grace. [Aside to Don Pedro.]
His grace's health
Is quite restored, thank Heaven! though he—stand firm!— (Aside to Pedro.)

Is somewhat weakly yet. Get to your homes,
I pray you, sirs. I'll send the royal guard,
To scour the streets, and shut the rebels up.
My resolution cheers your faithful hearts;
I see it in your faces. Go, sirs, go!
[Exeunt all but the king's party.]
'T is over, please your grace.

Nobleman.
The king has swooned

Alb.
Back, to the palace! As you go along,
Spread out your mantles, to conceal his grace,
And bear him gently through the private door.
Should any question you, your best reply
Were to knock out the asker's brains. Away!—
Gently; forget not, in your haste, you bear
All Alburquerque's treasure in your arms.
[Exeunt with Don Pedro all but Alburquerque.]
What a brave tool is that young king of mine!
How he rends treason, when my hand directs!
There 's Lara over, spite of all his noise;
The other curs, that only barked at him,
Have slunk away before my bolder tread,
And peace is slumbering o'er the quiet town,
Dreaming of bright to-morrow. Dreams and hopes,
That steal away the life of silly man—
The sleeping and the waking vision—which
Is idler, falser, and less oft fulfilled?
Now brooding Night has turned the downy side
Of her dark wing upon this peaceful hour,
And all the world seems drowsy for repose.
Perhaps, to-night, even prime ministers
May sleep their time out. I will home, and try.

[Exit.]