University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

DON JUAN's House—DONNA MARIA looking pensively into a Garden from her Apartment—Thunder and Lightning.
Maria.
Enter JUAN in the Armour and Habit of a royal Officer. MARIA starting, accosts him.

Don Juan.
This interview—this moment is my own—

[Approaching.
Maria.
Off, ruffian, off!—or by the powers above,
The next shall fix a dagger in thy heart.

[Draws a poignard from under her robe.
Don Juan.
On this last night that thy Padilla lives,
Oh! let me clasp thee to my faithful breast.

[Throws off his disguise.
Maria.
Immortal powers!—Say, do my eyes behold
The injur'd ghost of my deceased lord?
Or does my husband—my Don Juan live?—

Don Juan.
He lives indeed—this one short hour he lives.
When through the sharpest storms of life he sees
Thee firmly stand—by fortitude secur'd,
'Tis worth a world to fold thee to my heart.

Maria.
Did not my lord—my lov'd Padilla fall,
Amidst the carnage of the noon tide rout?—

Don Juan.
The faithful Socia reported thus,
Lest thou should'st perish in some rash attempt
To see thy Juan, and neglect thy son.
But a severer doom awaits my fate;
I, on the morrow, as a traitor die.

Maria.
Jehovah stoop, and lend thy potent arm,
To snatch the victuous from so vile a fate;
Or let these curling fires, which, from the North,
Emblazon nature's face from pole to pole,
In mantling flames, in one devouring wreck,
Sweep down the stars and crush this nether world.

Don Juan.
The Deity enwraps his dark decrees
Beyond the ken of man's presumptuous eye:—
Yet souls sublime, serenely look abroad,
And bid the howling tempests rage in vain.
Though livid lightnings blaze from north to south,
The tempests of this last tremendous night
Are as the breeze that wafts the gentle bark
Down the still tide, when every gale is hush'd—
If my Maria's mind supports its poise,
And smiles, superiour to the shocks of fate,
They cannot reach the soul that spurns the world—
Its tinsel'd toys—its titles, and its wealth.
The tribute of a life, I hold but small,
Could it repurchase liberty to Spain:—
Yet he is free—and he alone is free—
Who conquers passion, and subjects his will,
When his misfortunes thicken in the skies.

Maria.
No more, my lord—the test is too severe—
I feel my boasted fortitude will fail.

Don Juan.
Oh! spare my heart—
The plaintive accents of thy voice restrain,
Nor sharpen, by thy tears, the pangs of death.
My heart I leave—nought else can I bestow,
And once ye thought the world could give no more.

Maria.
Ah!—every tender pang that woe can paint,
Or for my country—or my much lov'd lord,
Distracts and wounds my agitated breast.

Don Juan.
Forbear to pain my tortur'd soul afresh;
Exert thyself—magnanimously stand,
And save thy son—the city, and thyself.
Protect and guard the lovely smiling boy,
The only pledge of our unspotted loves,
'Till he, enraptur'd, hangs upon thy lip;
While his bright eyeballs swim in filial tears,
To hear the accents of his dying sire,
Tenfold enhanc'd by thy descriptive tongue.

Maria.
Maternal softness weakens my resolve,
And wakes new fears—thou dearest, best of men,
Torn from thy side, I'm levell'd with my sex.
The wife—the mother—make me less than woman.

[Maria opens an adjacent apartment, and shews the infant in the arms of his nurse.
Don Juan.

[Juan wipes off a tear, and attempts to withdraw in silence.
Maria.
Oh! leave me not, thus wretched and forlorn!—

Don Juan.
How like a thief has time stol'n on my wish!—
[Clock strikes one.
Must I away—hah!—this is death—
The bitterness of death.—

Maria.
Wilt thou return, and on the scaffold bare
Thy yielding neck, and as a traitor die?

Don Juan.
Though tottering on the margin of the grave,
For Charles's fortune balanc'd in the scale,
Or all the gold in Montezuma's realm,
I'd not exchange my probity of soul,
Unsulli'd honour, and unblasted fame.

Maria.
Is sentence past—irrevocably past—
Then try the courage of a female heart,
And let me die with thee—the treasons I avow—
The crime is mine:—I can as bravely die,
As e'er a Grecian, or a Roman dame—
And smile at Portia's celebrated feat,
Who drew her blood to worm a secret out:—
I'll kiss the glittering ax and hug the shroud
That wraps me ever from a servile world.

Don Juan.
Retard me not—but bid me haste away.
Thy virtue's rais'd so far above thy sex,
Come plight thy vow, thy sacred, faithful vow,
That fortune's roughest blasts, blight not thy fame.
This moment, by appointment, is my friend's,
It is the last that time has lent to love;—
My honour calls—her voice I must obey.

[Going.
Maria.
Oh stay!—Oh stay!—'twas not the midnight toll—
One hour more let envious time bestow.

Don Juan.
My throbbing heart from guile was ever free;
No breach of faith shall mark me for a knave.
Thou dost not wish—not ev'n to purchase life,
To stain my honour by a fraudful deed:—
No—when I'm shrouded in my peaceful tomb,
No impious, servile tongue shall e'er reproach
My name—my memory—my life, or fame.
Adieu! my love—Adieu! to life and time—
One last embrace, and I am gone—forever.

[Embraces, and retires hastily.
Maria.
Oh! harsh and cruel sound—adieu!—forever—
He's gone—
And heav'n's broad eye beholds the fatal stroke,
And thunders vengeance from the louring skies.
—[A solemn pause.
When his great soul ascends the broad expanse,
Let angels guard him through the widen'd dome.

[Exit.