University of Virginia Library

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

A Public Place.
Enter Garcia and Alvaro.
Gar.
My Lord Alvaro! is 't six years, or seven,
Since this our Arragon, Castile, Navarre,
In triple league defensive, at Toloza
Play'd havoc with the invasive infidels;
And down a hundred thousand Moorish throats
Cramm'd Christian steel; at which time, our changed King
So dealt with war, that Spain saluted him
The Mars of Arragon—Is 't six, or seven?

Alv.
Now seven, Lord Garcia.

Gar.
Seven, is it, Sir?
Why, then, I say, the seventh solemnity,
Which should to-morrow re-instate at full
That great day in the public memory,
Will lack its first-year lustre.

Alv.
Grievously:
Changed King, indeed! and much-changed kingdom, too!
Alphonso's grown a common reveller—
Crows 'mid his women like a Musselman;
And so disports him with his new-bought toy,
This Bride elect (whose fate calls out on pity,
That virtue, youth and beauty should be bound
To such a mate) his glory seems a dream,
Gilding the drowsy sleep of luxury.

Gar.
'Twill be so, till a tempest waken him.
The treasury is unlined: mere poverty
Shall make the festival a threadbare show,
With splendor of past years comparison'd;
That victory from her faded celebration
Shall turn, shame-blushingly.

Alv.
Would 'twere not so!
Faugh! 'tis Manrique.

Gar.
I dislike the man;
He is the merest trimmer of the court,
And flatters low as fawning. What's the matter?

Enter Manrique.
Man.
O, my sweet lords! upon a merry time
Ye hang like sackcloth on a wanton nun:
Dear lords! why frown ye?

Alv.
Sure, our faces are
As much our own as is a paid-for vest?
And that we wear so fashion'd as we will,
Not being men o' the mode.

Gar.
What cause for smiling?

Man.
To-morrow's sun must teach ye, gentlemen:
The festival and marriage of the King—
Two suns at once in joy's meridian!
Will wake high jubilee:—magnificence,
By lighter graces temper'd, all past pomp
Shall render vile and ugly; every veteran
Shall fight Toloza's battle o'er again
A thousand times i'the day, for valiant joy
At its so worthy celebration,
Made doubly glorious by god Hymen's torch,
Lighting to heaven a royal votary!

Gar.
So!
Are Saragossa's tradesmen liberal?
Her artists, patriots? that they offer gratis
Unto her glory's annual ordinance,
Which hath been dwindling yearly, and tends fast
Toward blank omission.

Alv.
Prithee, Lord, some light!

Man.
Gods! gentlemen, d'ye think his Majesty
Hath no substantial subjects? faith, ye err.
Lords, we're as full of Jews as Egypt was,
Before the Red-Sea-miracle: these Hebrews
Agree, by contribution voluntary,
To patch the garment of to-morrow's state
And tinsel it with golden novelty.

Gar.
What! more exaction? more oppression? more—
O, O, these Jews have doff'd the spirits of men,
And, beast-like, brook the pannier and the goad!
Now, by heaven's God! altho' a Christian,
I'd rather see Alphonso don the helm
And draw the sword, to free Spain from her locusts,
The swarthy Moors, than meanly persecute
These unoffending Israelites at home—
Altho' I love them not.

Alv.
A scourge upon them!
I loath the thieves; and bless Necessity
That grips them in her talons.

Gar.
You have cause.
Shoot me this sparrow! Come, sir; we'll to court,
Having to do with these solemnities.

[Exeunt Garcia and Alvaro.
Man.
This they call manly breeding, bearded manners:
Now the gods send them barbers! He hath cause?
To hate Jews' flesh? What cause? I know the cause:
He loved a Jewess better than a Jew;
But she, sir, with her pretty Hebrew nails
Writ her religion on his Christian skin
In red-line characters; and since that hap,
The Devil and a Jew are one to him.
Enter Reuben.
Where go'st thou, son of Israel?

Reu.
Mind thy ways!
What's that to thee!

Man.
Reuben, hast heard the news?

Reu.
Ay; ay; a curse upon ye Christians!—ay:
We toil and sweat, that ye may squander; fie!
What are your triumphs and your ceremonies
To us? What, what to us—that we must pay for 'em?
We labour honestly, give no offence,
And yet ye rob us; fie upon ye! fie;

Man.
Dog! mend thy manners, or we'll have thee whipp'd!
Or closely pinion'd in a pillory—
A scare-crow for all grumblers. Dog! I say.

Reu.
I meant no treason. Blotches foul ye all!
The curse of fire consume ye!—O, these imposts!

Man.
What is thy errand, Jew?—I ask again.

Reu.
And I reply again—What's that to thee?

Man.
Thou trudgest vainly; I can tell thine errand;
Thou go'st to Xavier's, to consult for means
To 'scape the levy; for he's prince among ye.

Reu.
Ay, by the Sabbath! 'tis a princely Jew!

Man.
Thou tramp'st in vain:
The state needs money, and must have supply.
Go! go! get shaved; thy beard offendeth me.

Reu.
I do not keep it growing for thy pleasure.

Man.
Well, get to Xavier: should you see his daughter,
Commend my Lord Alvaro to her nails.
Have thy chest ready, Reuben; 'tis too full
Get thee a sickle, Jew, and reap thy chin;
Thou'dst look more like a Christian, would'st thou shave.

[Exit.
Reu.
That honest men should labor, to feed flies!—
And not their need, but waste!—It must not be:
Five hundred thousand dollars to be raised—
And all from Jews! I say, it must not be:
I'll hear of Xavier—he is bold and wise.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

An Apartment in Xavier's House.
Enter Xavier and Lopez.
Xav.
So many of my friends call'd here to day!
That's something strange: you should not have denied me.

Lop.
I but obey'd your own injunction, sir,
Which did desire unbroken privacy.

Xav.
Spake they of aught?

Lop.
They were most urgent, sir,
To be admitted, to have word with you,
Concerning some new edict of the king,
Bearing on our persuasion.

Xav.
So! An edict?
Admit the next that calls. Wait at the door.
An edict, did you say?

Lop.
Ay, sir.

Xav.
What now?—
What does my daughter with her time to day?

Lop.
She's in the chamber, sir, which fronts the east,
Reading that story of ambitious love,
Written in Spanish, which you chide her for.

Xav.
God bless her—and forbid that I should chide!
Yet should she love the language of her sires
Before the modern jargon: in our Hebrew
There's matter for all hearts. Well, get thee in!
[Exit Lopez.
An edict!—that's a word for, persecution;
Edict and persecution—they're the same;
And have been, since we wept at Babylon;
And shall be, till we gather us again
In the divine Jerusalem foretold.
O, Judah! thou art gone out from thyself;
My country! thou'rt the shadow of a name;
My countrymen! ye're scatter'd o'er the earth,
And feed on those that hate ye; yet ye prosper,
And are a mighty people, strong in gold—
The sceptre of all kingdoms! Were ye gather'd,
O, were ye gather'd, ye were terrible
Within the world—and holy, and set up
'Mid the prime potentates: the curse of Heaven
That hangs so dark and heavily upon ye
Cannot endure for ever; and ye shall be,
Ye shall be a proud nation once again—
And have your prophets, princes, and your rulers,
As in the time of old:—it is decreed!
But I, the rightful heir of your great kings
(Whose just inheritance were camps and thrones)
Must live a stranger to your renovation;
Find all my glory on the abject mart,
And die uncrown'd among ye! Yet I reign;
Reign in your hearts—in thousands of your hearts!
And so, I have a glory; and being great
Amid the wreck of greatness, live content.
I marvel no one knocks: this edict haunts me,
Like the pale coming of a wonted ghost!

Enter Reuben.
Reu.
Good greeting to the love of Israel!

Xav.
Ha! Reuben? I am passing glad to see you!
What is this edict, Reuben? burning? flaying?
Exile? extortion?—Let me hear it!—Come!

Reu.
You know to-morrow is the festival
That doth commemorate the Christians' battle—
And that Alphonso's marriage to the princess
Goes hand-in-hand with't—a twin ceremony!

Xav.
I do; go on.

Reu.
'Twill be a rare one, and
The charge excessive: have you heart to pay for't?

Xav.
Name me the sum—I know the sum is named;
They're ever quick to save us calculation.

Reu.
Five hundred thousand crowns! Is it enough?

Xav.
'Tis not the sum, tho' that is vast enough;
'Tis not the sum, Reuben—'tis not the sum!
It is the principle, the system, Reuben,
In which consists the wickedness o'the act
And our great wrong, which if we tamely stoop to,
We build a precedent, whose after use
Shall strip us even to rawness—Lopez, ho!
Enter Lopez.
Get my good vestments ready; make them neat,
And hang them in my study—presently.
[Exit Lopez.
Reuben, I will to court. I hate the king,
Despite his royal courtesy of speech
And specious bearing to me: that estate
I held at Borja was my daughter's pride;
She seldom weeps—yet wept at leaving it:
'Twas princely tyranny that forced me sell!

Reu.
Ay, and for half its worth—the mischief on't!
Your goodly citizen had given double.

Xav.
I hate him, Reuben; yet I will to court,
To beg reversion of this ominous edict—
Cloud-black with woe to our fraternity.
I've done him golden service frequently;
And 'twas in private—of no public note;
So have I more than common privilege,
And I will use it for our common good—
And shrewdly too.

Reu.
Our prophet be your speed!

Enter Lopez.
Ser.
Some twenty merchants, sir, stand in the hall,
Waiting your leisure.

Xav.
I will come to them.
[Exit Lopez.
Go with me, Reuben; help me don my vest;
Courts even from Jews crave courtly ceremony—
I would be stately, tho' I go to sue.
O, note in me our country's downfall, Reuben:
The kings of Judah were not wont to beg!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Chamber of State, in the Palace.
Flourish. Enter Alphonso and Isabella, with Garcia, Alvaro, Manrique, and Lords and Ladies, in attendance.
Alph.
Now will we teach ye, dames and gentlemen,
To keep the cup of pleasure ever full,
And yet be ever drinking: jocund mirth,
Being gay tenant of the monarch's heart,
Should in each subject bosom property
A joyous home—fulfilling loyalty!
What says our future queen?

Isa.
That I am happy, sir,
Even to the top of joy; and truth is, swim
In the deep tide of my felicity
So giddily, 'tis marvel I not drown.

Man.
O, warily! your grace: if you should sink,
Mirth's self goes souse—and we are mourners all.

Alph.
Good my Lord Garcia, and my Lord Alvaro!
There lives but little pleasure in your eyes,
Howe'er attemper'd be your spirits within:
What's with you, friends?

Alv.
So please your majesty!
The dusky vision of a cloud of Moors,
Dark'ning our Spanish earth, was on my soul;
Which made me think, 'twere better to be winning
Another battle, than defeating Time
By idle celebration of one past—
And better fighting, sire, than marrying.

Gar.
And I, all duty to your majesty
Still jewell'd in the casket of my heart,
Was making question of that policy
Which lays a burthen on a peaceful people,
Who pay all dues of custom to the state,
Merely to fill the gap which unthrift makes
In the state's means.

Alph.
We are not for schooling, lords:
'Twere best ill-humour knew to keep at home;
For out-doors, she's a pest.

Alv.
Heaven save the king!

Gar.
And may no cares await his majesty!

[Exeunt Garcia and Alvaro.
Alph.
But that the pure white pleasure of the time
Must have no stain of discord, we could find
A corner in our heart for passion now!
Darkness flies light, and so these lords are gone.
Lead to the banquet! and let music play,
Sweet as the heart-sweet music in our souls!

Enter an Attendant.
Atten.
Sire, the Jew Xavier craves an audience.

Alph.
He squanders labor; but we'll hear him, sir.
[Exit Attendant.
Tarry, princess! I'd have thee see this Jew:
He's prince and prophet of our Israelites;
And hath a bearing of some royalty,
Which much confirms him in that eminence.

Isa.
I've heard our ladies word him handsomely,
Praising the noble presence of the Jew.

Alph.
I pray thee, note him—thou'rt a judge of men.

Man.
He's coming now, my liege.

Enter Xavier.
Alph.
Thou'rt welcome, Xavier.

Xav.
I'm not quite sure of that. I thank your highness.

Alph.
Jew! thou forget'st thy wonted courtesy,
Paying no homage to a lady by;
And she, the bride elect of Arragon:
Hath she thy tribute?

Xav.
I do think her fair;
But since my youth, I've found fair oft is foul,
Which knowledge moderates doting.

Isa.
O, sir Jew,
Must I then be the flatterer? Trust me, Xavier,
Thou look'st a very King of Israel;
And I could deem that, twenty years ago,
Thou had'st a Christian power o'er Christain maids,
Infecting them with Jewish honesty.

Xav.
They've Christians plenty, dame, to serve the turn
You drive at. Lucky! Strange beasts couple not.

Man.
But now thou art a very scurvy fellow;
Nothing but Jew—Jew all, from top to toe—
That gazing on the beauty of a princess,
Kneel'st not in worship; thou art stiff-neck'd, Jew;
And I could wish we were well rid of thee:
Thy presence does inflict a circumcision.

Xav.
Oh! check thee, Xavier! Shall a yelp draw thunder?—
Your majesty keeps curs.

Alph.
What says the noble Jew?

Xav.
That if you highness needs must have a cur
Still yelping at your postern, when a friend
Comes to the gate (and you have call'd me, friend)
It were best muzzled; tho' no harm, 'tis nuisance.

Isa.
No anger, prithee, Jew; we were but merry.

Xav.
Madam, I would not be your merriment.
Thus stands it, King!—I would have speech with you:
If that your majesty have private leisure,
Let it be now; if not, soon as may be;—
This known—my business is peremptory,
And prays for swift despatch.

Alph.
Lords, by your leave:
And gentle princess! bid the banquet wait,
Until our audience with the Jew is done.
[Exeunt Isabella and Courtiers.
How can I serve thee, Xavier?

Xav.
Is it possible?
That you, my liege—a king, for chivalry
By fame high-trumpeted, and with a soul
Hereto deem'd honest and right honorable
In all the level and rough ways of life—
Can, in the whole world's face, inflict a wrong
On a great body of industrious men;
And with the guilt thereof hot in your soul—
Your fingers itching for that wrong's foul profit—
Unto that body's representative,
Coming to plead on justice' strict behalf
For mercy that's mere right—say, with cold eye
And ignorant tongue—How can I serve thee, sir?
By Judah's God! my liege, it makes me mad,
And underfoot beats reverence!

Alph.
Honest Xavier,
We are too happy now to quarrel with thee;
Be temperate, Jew: that edict must have force.
For Arragon to duck her stately head,
And underpace worse kingdoms, were to ink
Our regal annals with a filthy blot,
Mark for the eternal future's contumely;
And that she should do, if her annual rite,
To which the world's eye turneth commenting,
Lacking its wont, made shew of poverty.
The state doth lack five-hundred-thousand crowns,
The which she deigns to borrow of your tribe.

Xav.
Borrow! and, borrow!—'tis the word in vogue;
But, pay comes never in your memories:
I'm sick of that word, borrow!

Alph.
More respect!
The state accepts assistance in that sum—
From those who owe her debts of gratitude,
For shelter and all best indulgencies;
'Tis needful, Jew—and so, our edict's firm.

Xav.
The money may be needful—not the edict;
Recall the edict—you shall have the money.
Alphonso—my dread liege!—I've done you service,
I should be vain to boast; I lent you gold
When you had private need, and much did fear
Lest naked kingship should be subjects' scorn;
And when your choice did point at my estate,
You had it freely, sire.

Alph.
We bought it freely;
But it was sold us with reluctance, Jew.

Xav.
You had it—it suffices: for my service—
And waiting service sure may beg a crumb—
I this entreat—annul me this black edict,
Which points at all my nation thro' the earth,
As men fit to be robb'd by proclamation;
As legal victims for illegal outrage;
And gives the cue to all earth's sovereignties
To plunder us by warrant of enaction,
And stifle outcry with the gag of law:
Annul the edict, gracious Arragon!
And here I undertake—by that good trust
And deference my brethren render me—
To raise the sum in private, and unvoiced
Place it within your royal treasury;
So shall you still enjoy the benefit,
And we not whipt in open market-place
With lash unmerited of hangman law—
I kneel till I am answer'd.

Alph.
Rise! at once:
We honor thee with much regard, good Jew;
But our decrees, like those of that great power
We represent on earth, never know change:
The edict must stand firm!

Xav.
Beseech thee, no!

Alph.
Thou kneel'st in vain—we are not to be moved.

Xav.
Am I refused?

Alph.
Ay; by my sceptre! Jew.

Xav.
Why, then—my curses on thee! wanton king—
And know, I speak with the descended voice
Of Judah's and of Israel's thousand kings!
Compared with whom...Oh! with the least of whom...
Alphonso's but a petty magistrate!
They curse thee in my cursing: may'st thou riot,
Till pleasure rot thee! and thy end, be this ..
Exile and death by subjects' rebel hands!
Know too, we will not yield to this oppression;
But will resist your thievish officers,
And struggle to the death, before give up
Our share in man's eternal privilege
Of mine and thine; thus, fast establishing
A proud example unto scatter'd Jewry
How she may yet be terrible and free!

Alph.
Fool! ye would sink in Christendom's great sea,
Like a few scatter'd rain-drops—dost thou brave us?
Not only will we have five hundred thousand,
But twenty times five hundred thousand crowns,
If so we need: look to your houses! Jew;
If we but think them pleasant—they are ours:
Look to your steeds and women!—they are ours,
If we but find them mettled to our liking:
The skin that covers ye is only your's
So long as is our pleasure! Thou may'st writhe,
Knowing our power still greater than our threats:
After to-morrow must the sum be paid,
By virtue of our edict, to the State;
If not, King Xavier! let your subjects look to 't.

Xav.
O, my indignant heart! how canst thou hold?
Why dost not break—and send thy royal spirit,
I'll-placed on earth, to seek its throne in Heaven?
'Tis true; 'tis true: we are defenceless men,
And outrage may do with us what she will!

Alph.
Jew!

Xav.
Christian!

Alph.
Slave!

Xav.
Ay—King.

Alph.
Thou'rt idle, Xavier.—
Thou has a daughter; she is voiced for fair;—
Thou understand'st me, Jew?—she might do much;
But do not think to rail us from our purpose!

[Exit.
Xav.
Daughter!—my daughter?—did he say it?—Daughter!—
As well we might, hanging a veil i'the air,
Think to secrete the fiery-beaming sun
From the amorous earth, as by impediment
Of fence and wall, keep beauty from men's note,
Towards it for ever prying. She hath dwelt
In solitude—to her no solitude,
Seeing her mind fills all vacuity
With notions and bright beings of its own;—
Or only with the serious of my tribe,
Who see no beauty save in holiness;
Yet Christian Lords have thrust them impudently
To her pure presence, shaming but themselves—
Her honor excellent as her's for whom
The Patriarch served a two-fold 'prenticeship:
And now, a kingly curiosity,
Smit with description, dotes on my pure child!—
I am unhappy now. Thou hast a daughter—
Thou understand'st me—and she might do much!—
O, filthy beast! as if my Rachel were
A courtezan, and lewd minx for the sport!—
Why, would he force her—as the Roman did,
I'd kill her by the shambles, rather than—
What was't?—She might do much!—I'll muse on that:
She might do much? 'tis not unlikely—much!
She might aspire to crowns—a Christian crown!—
She might be very Queen of Arragon!—
For with that glorious beauty of her youth,
And that high-pitch'd ambition she is full of,
She might so queen it o'er the amorous King,
As to thrust by the feeble Isabel,
Make instant quash o' the edict, turn the streams
Of power and greatness towards her countrymen—
And Saragossa make Jerusalem!
All this might be; and, oh!—if all this were!
She loves her nation; is ambitious—well?
And her ambition's but a slip of mine—
Why should not Rachel be the Queen she looks?
Well! well!—my thoughts are very conjurors now!
Let Princess Isabel go home and weep—
Rachel shall be the Bride of Arragon!

Enter Reuben.
Reu.
Xavier, what news? we are impatient for't.
Your name did lend me entrance; what's the sentence?

Xav.
Reuben, go thou unto my secretary,
And bid him straight write letters circular,
Warning our merchants to prepare the sum
Which the state calls for; and immediately—
For't must be paid; we have no remedy.

Reu.
My share of't will go nigh to bankrupt me:
Beshrew the thieves!

Xav.
I'll pay thy portion, Reuben;
So, get thee gone—and see the thing be done,
As I have told thee.

Reu.
O, how well in this
Is shown thy kingly nature, royal Xavier!
Yet, 'tis extortion—well, my lord, I go:
I'd give them drachms of poison—not of gold!

[Exit.
Xav.
'Tis fix'd! 'tis fix'd!—her aim shall be the crown—
And may the Guide of Israel prosper us!
Oh! well I know, she'll leap to my intent;
For she hath dreams of glorious destiny—
And I but hold a substance to her view,
For their proud spirit to fill and animate:
This deed's the child o'the time—and shall be done;
A Hebrew Queen must rule in Arragon!

[Exit.