 | Plays and Poems |  |
SCENE II.
The Same. A Room in the Alcazar. Enter Doña Maria.Doña Maria.
Must the whole purpose of my life be lost,
Because a wilful boy is obstinate?
Must all the passions which my wrongs evoked,
To shape my destiny, subside again
Without their natural issue? I am naught,
There is no leading motive to prolong
My aimless days, unless I find revenge.
No heart-struck wight so ached to bless his eyes
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As I to see the justice which is mine
Rush to its consummation. I have gazed
Upon revenge, until it seems a thing
Holy as thoughts of heaven; and sure it is
Justice, not vengeance, to the eyes above.
Suppose I kill her? with my own true hand
Sweep her from earth? What could Don Pedro do?
Murder his mother? Well, and what of that?
He could not call the Guzman back to life;
And I 'd die laughing. Ha! 't is a new thought,
Yet good and tempting. Could I reach her, now,—
Find some occasion. The Alcazar's doors
Are shut against me. I must think of this.
Ha! ha! it would be rare!—with my own hand!
[Laughing.]
(Enter Alburquerque.)
Alburquerque.
There, madam, that 's the courtly face I like!
How well a smile becomes you!
Doña M.
But you, sir,
Are not the blest occasion of my smile,
Your heart must tell you.
Alb.
At the Guzmans still!
Doña M.
No, no; a happy train of gay ideas
Gathered in one, and burst into a smile.
Had you your enemy beneath your foot,
Feeling with one hand where his heart beat most,
While in the other gleamed your naked brand,
Quivering with eagerness to end the deed,—
Would you not smile?
Alb.
Most likely.
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Ay, you 'd grin
With all the beauty of a tickled fiend.
Alb.
My beauty thanks you.
Doña M.
When will you bestow
The vengeance I demand, not as a grace,
But as a sacred right?
Alb.
Patience, a while.
Doña M.
Patience forever! thus you put me off.
Alb.
These Guzmans—by the by, well thought!
I'll get my warrant. Sickness has destroyed
Don Pedro's power to battle with my voice.
I talk him mad. He 'd give the whole broad earth—
Throwing Castile in, as of no account—
For one short hour of peace. I'll get my warrant.
Doña M.
What warrant?
Alb.
To remove the Guzman's ward
Here date the birth, too, of your own revenge.
Don Pedro mends. A month will see our power
Flooding Castile; and as we rise in height,
We drain the Guzmans dry. Another month,
And I will force them to rebellious acts,—
To open treason, and defiant arms.
Another still, shall see them at my feet,
Grovelling, and spurned! I hate her with a hate
You cannot add to, nor abate, one jot.
Your hate is honest, therefore harmless, lady;
But mine is deadly, and would crawl and crawl,
Through patient centuries, so that, at last,
It might bound up and sting! There 's my whole heart;
Make what you please of it.
Doña M.
You 'd rival me
In my dear purpose? She is mine, I say,
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From scorching, by this meddling in my fires!
Sir, you presume to take upon yourself
The part of principal, whom I designed
Only as instrument. Could I suppose
That there were one to share my hate with me,
To take my vengeance from my rightful hands,
Feel all my triumph,—by yon heavenly light,
I 'd turn to loving Leonor, and stand
A shield and falchion between her and harm!
Alb.
Are you quite sane?
Doña M.
I know not that I am;
But this I know, I'm jealous in revenge,
And I will overreach you. Look you, sir,
If she must die, to glut an enmity,
'T is for my cause alone.
Alb.
Forgive my zeal.
I thought my hatred to your life-long foe
Would please you well.
Doña M.
It does not please. You raise
A puny cause, and equal it with mine.
Alb.
'T is very strange!
Doña M.
Hate with a heart like mine,
And 't will be strange no longer.
Alb.
Hatred, then,
Has jealousies like love.
Doña M.
Like everything
That takes a sole possession of the heart.
While you were working towards my private ends,
I trusted you—nay, urged you to the task;
But, now, you rise and call the thing your own:—
Hence, I abjure you!
Alb.
'T is a curious light,
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For that the wearing process of her wrongs
Has driven her mad, I see no way to doubt.
[Aside.]
Well, madam, take her—I concede to you
All right and title in your Leonor—
Take her, God bless you, and be happy!
Doña M.
Ha!
You 'd cozen me? I see it in your smirk.
You think me crazy? I am sane, good sir,—
Quite sane enough to counterplot your snares.
I'll make you own, Lord Chancellor, ere long,
That all the craft of statesmanship falls short,
When its divided interests must contend
With one lone passion of a woman's heart.
Farewell! I ask no counsel, seek no aid:
One of us twain shall have a laugh at this!
[Exit.]
Alb.
She 's raving mad, I'll swear it on the mass!
Another wild enthusiast to watch—
Another human thing to check and turn,
And hold and loosen, and so overthrow.
The Guzman 's mine!—Why, I'm as mad as she!
There 's something solid in her lunacy,
Something that finds an echo in my heart.
The Guzman 's mine, for all. Well, well— (Enter Coronel.)
How now?
Coronel.
My lord—
Alb.
Why, so was Lara yesterday.
Cor.
He 's dead.
Alb.
Thank God!
Cor.
Villena, too.
Alb.
More thanks!
You see how Heaven is fighting for Castile!
Cor.
Their deaths were sudden.
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The less pain.
Cor.
Some say—
Alb.
I poisoned them?
Cor.
'T is said.
Alb.
They wrong my office;
Now I am minister, I use the axe.
Your news is better than your scandal, sir:
For it I'll make you the king's Cup-bearer:
More such, and I'll divide my place with you.
Cor.
I'm not ambitious for a crown of thorns.
Alb.
(Starting.)
Right! you are strangely right! The crown is mine,
The glory mine,—perhaps, the shameful death.
Right, Coronel!—You heard?
Cor.
Nothing, my lord.
Alb.
'T were wiser you did not. Thank Heaven, again,
For all its bounties to our fair Castile!
Cor.
(Aside.)
I mar these sweet devotions. Ha! ha! ha!
[Laughing.
That holy thought keeps wretched company.
Alb.
What said you, Coronel?—a crown of thorns?
You are chief Cup-bearer—remember that.
I must go watch the Guzmans. Farewell, sir.
[Exit Coronel.]
A crown of thorns!—Right, very right, indeed!
[Exit slowly.]
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