University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The Same. A State Apartment in the same. Don Pedro, Doña Maria, and Alburquerque discovered.
Don Pedro.
Now that our rule is settled in Castile,
And we the darlings of the people's hearts,
Were it not well, amid our happiness,
To cast an eye on mercy, and declare
A general amnesty?

Alburquerque.
Methinks, your grace
Has simply turned the matter upside down.
For, by your favor, as your arm is strong,
And able to bear out your royal will,
Now is the time most fit for punishment.
Now weed the kingdom of your enemies,
By their decay enriching your tried friends;
And if the vassals murmur for their lords,
Give them grand bull-fights, at the dead lords' cost.
Thus says my almanac.

Don P.
My lord, you 're wise;
And to your hands we trust our government,
With good assurance of prosperity.
Yet, surely, there are some, now prisoners—
For I have heard our castles groan with them—
Whose liberation would not harm the state.
'T was but to-day Fadrique pressed a suit
To free his mother, Doña Leonor.
And so far as my unripe wit may go,
I see no reason—

Alb.
But I see a thousand
Why you should chop her head off!

Doña Maria.
(Laughing.)
Pardon me:
Was it because she over-reached your skill
In Don Enrique's marriage?

Alb.
That will do,—
Out of a thousand reasons, that 's enough.
I freely own, she circumvented me.

Doña M.
Which only proves— [Pauses.]


Alb.
Well, what?

Doña M.
That you were gulled
Less by her skill than by your want of it.

Alb.
Show me so deep a woman.—

Doña M.
(Aside to him.)
Here, sir.

[Curtseys.]
Alb.
Pish!
Your highness should do one of these two things
Either put Doña Leonor to death,
Or make her your prime minister.

Don P.
(Laughing.)
You jest.

Alb.
The saints forbid! for, ere the year be up
Castile will be alone with one of us.
In soberness, I would advise your grace
To give me warrant for that woman's death.
I'll execute it in a private way,
With little noise—

Doña M.
And little pain to her.
How feeling in your lordship! what a care
To make death comfortable! Please, your grace,
I, as a woman, cry against an act
That would disgrace the honor of your sex;
One whose sole motive and excuse would be
Your victim's weakness.

Don P.
You forget your wrongs.

Doña M.
Ay, in the presence of so foul a wish,
I blush to know my thoughts were kindred once.
Time and her sufferings have so moved my heart,
That I would greet her with a sister's kiss,
Rather than render her to that bad man,
Who 'd stain your ermine for a private pique.

Don P.
Mother, this mercy shows—

Alb.
Ay, shows, your grace—
Nothing but shows—you hit the very word!
Her mercy is not real, 't is counterfeit,
It has to me a hollow-hearted sound;
And yet she 'd palm it—

Don P.
Recollect yourself!
Your spleen breaks in upon your sovereign's speech,
To vilify his mother. Have a care,
Or even you may carry it too far.
Must I deny the virtue I behold,
To trust the secret guilt your words betray?
You cover your revenge in robes of state,
And ask my voice to sanction the vile hag;
While naked mercy must be shuffled by,
To give your harlot room. Beware, my lord,
Lest these instructions in cruel policy
Be not too well remembered,—lest the spring
Of impious knowledge, opened in my mind,
Some day, o'erwhelm the opener!

Alb.
'T was my haste:
Yet I can show the motives—Sire, you frown—
You frown upon your faithful counsellor!
You frown upon the pilot whose true eye
Guided your early voyage past many a rock,
Unknown to you, who laughed from the high deck;
Through many a storm, whose raging waters strove
To tear his hand from the unsteady helm,
While you slept lightly in your dangerous berth!
Ay, sire, through treacherous calms, and furious storms,
Scorched by hot suns, or blind with hissing spray,
Weary with watching, sick with over-toil,—
I bore you safely. This is my reward!
Ah! you do well, to push the knave aside—
The rough, blunt fellow whom you loved at sea—
Now you are riding, with your anchors down,
And all your streamers fanning the mild airs,
Safe in the harbor which he brought you to.

Don P.
My lord—

Alb.
Still frowning! Well, discharge me, then;
You may find better statesmen in the streets;
The earth must teem with them; or you, my liege,
Would be more careful in preserving me.
'T is not the minister whose heart is wrung,
By this decline from early confidence,
It is the man!

[Affects to weep.]
Doña M.
(Aside to him.)
O! let me see that tear—
That natural wonder—O! beseech you, sir! [Laughing.]


Alb.
Marplot, begone! [Aside to her.]


Don P.
Dear Alburquerque, nay—

Alb.
Here I lay down the seals and golden key,
That marked my office of abundant trust,
Here, at Don Pedro's feet; and may the hand
That lifts them thence be worthier of their charge,
By skill and grace, if not by honesty.
[Lays down the seals and key.]
Lie there—until I pick ye up again.

[Aside and exit.]
Don P.
My lord!

Doña M.
He 's gone. Alas! dear gentleman,
He was sincere, no doubt, in his intent;
But Leonor, poor creature, must not die:
She is the mother of thy father's sons.
Thou 'lt free her soon?

Don P.
Not yet.

Doña M.
Thou 'lt give her hope?

Don P.
Yes, if the Chancellor consent.

Doña M.
But, Pedro,
Thou art the king, and can do anything.

Don P.
I 'm not so sure of that. Too well I know,
I cannot govern this Castile of mine,
Without Lord Alburquerque. Mother, send,
Send to his palace, bid him come to me;
And say, his seals are lying at my feet,
Awaiting his return.

Doña M.
I'll go myself,
In secrecy and silence. 'T were not well
To have this business noised abroad. True, true,
We cannot do without the Chancellor.
Farewell!—Pray, trust thy signet-ring to me,
And let me bear a little ray of hope
To Leonor. 'T is an odd fancy, ha?
Yet words of hope and comfort, from my mouth,
Would move her strangely.

[Drawing the ring from his finger.]
Don P.
'T is as well, perhaps,
To grant her wish; for Leonor must die.
[Aside.]
Thou must not leave ere you are reconciled.
Forgive some rudeness from her natural pride,
And say I pity her. But, then, the state,
Or Alburquerque, or whate'er it is,
Will murder her! (Aside.)
Well, take my signet-ring—
The Chancellor would rage to see it go—
[Aside.]
Would it were always used in such fair deeds!
Juana keeps with her—she owes me that;
I gave Fadrique leave to see her, too;
Another kindness which she'll thank me for.
But, then, the state—O! mother—

[Walks up the stage.]
Doña M.
Farewell, son!

(As she is going, reënter Alburquerque, with a bundle of papers. He regards her fixedly—she returns his look.)
Alburquerque.
Well, what now?

Doña M.
Nothing, my good lord.

Alb.
Hum! hum!
Nothing, indeed? You have a conquering look.

Doña M.
I have been pleading with the king for you.
For—hark you, sir—I have resolved to drop
My hate to Leonor within your hands.
I am but weak, and see I must abide
Your lordship's pleasure; play a second part,
And leave the stage to you. But swear to me
Not to give up your purpose till the king
Sign her death-warrant. This, at least, I'll have.

Alb.
You shall. But I will have the Guzman, hey?
That, too, I purposed. Ha! ha! ha! she 's mine!

[Laughing.]
Doña M.
You are not generous.

Alb.
(Laughing.)
Ha! ha! why, no:
I like a triumph.

Doña M.
Pray, address the king:
He 's ripe to welcome you.

Alb.
(Laughing.)
Ha! ha! 't was rare!
A woman rival me!

[Turns towards Don Pedro.]
Doña M.
(Aside.)
And conquer you!
Now for my swoop of vengeance!

(As Alburquerque slowly approaches Don Pedro, Doña Maria steals off.)
Don P.
Welcome! Nay,
Do not hold off, but take your seals again.

Alb.
My liege, you misconceive me. I have brought
The papers, of most pressing consequence,
Which lay beneath the judgment of my eye.
The man who holds my place as minister
Will get some headaches over these, I trow!
They are of urgent moment—though I have
A wain-load waiting at the palace-gate—
And so I brought them first. For, notice, sire,
[Going over the papers rapidly.]
This is a plan for rating the poll-tax.
This is a paper on the custom-dues
Established by Navarre. This, from Biscay,
Begging their English league may be confirmed.
Here 's a petition from the clergymen—
Long articles, in number twenty-one—
A most involved and cunning document.
Here 's one on criminal procedure; this
Needs instant reformation. Here, the salt-pits,—
A question to be managed dexterously.
Hum!—wool—wine—taxes—taxes—taxes.—This
Is the projected treaty with Navarre.
Ah! here is business—here is food for thought!
For, sire, I hold that Aragon—

Don P.
Good heavens!
I nothing know of this!

Alb.
Let me explain.
The Cortes that will meet—

Don P.
Forbear, forbear!
On your allegiance, I command you, hold!
You drive me frantic with the catalogue;
Spare me the explanation. Take your seals,
And end these matters in your own good way.

Alb.
Forgive me, sire.

Don P.
You do not love me.

Alb.
Yes,
Most dearly, sire; but Leonor, my foe,
Has got between me and your confidence.

Don P.
In Heaven's name, take her, and perform your will;
But, pray, take up your seals and treasury-key!

Alb.
(Running over the papers.)
Ay, here 's the warrant. Sign, your grace.

[Puts a pen in his hand.]
Don P.
(Writing.)
'T is done.

Alb.
And I resume my seals and key. (Picks them up.)
My liege,
Lend me your signet: 't is a private warrant.

Don P.
I have it not.

Alb.
Indeed? I cautioned you
Never to part with it, except to me.
Who has it, sire?

Don P.
My mother.

Alb.
Horrible!
The devil 's rampant in Castile, I think!
That ring bears absolute command with it.
O! sire, you sealed the fate of Doña Leonor
An hour before you thought.

[Going.]
Don P.
Stay, Chancellor!
Where are you going?

Alb.
To the Guzman's cell.
Heaven grant I be in time!

Don P.
For what, my lord?

Alb.
To stay your mother's hand, before it reeks
With Leonor de Guzman's blood.

Don P.
O! O!—
O! terrible conjecture! Dare not think—

Alb.
Abide the issue, and you'll think with me.
The subtle monster! how she smiled and bowed,
And begged revenge from me, and stole away,
With the damned purpose packing her hot heart
Until it almost burst! O! women, women!
Turn you to devils, and the ancient fiends
Shall stand aghast with horror! 'Sdeath! I dream,
I dream, while she 's at work. (Aside.)
Farewell, your grace!
The woman has cajoled me, as I live!

[Aside and exit.]
Don P.
I'll not believe it, till the frightful deed
Make her as odious as the thought of it.
Never! 't is monstrous! And the Chancellor
Outdoes suspicion in suspecting it.

[Exit.]