University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The Same. A State-Apartment in the same. Enter Doña Maria and Alburquerque.
Doña Maria.
School me to patience! Make me one of those
Who pander to the Guzmans' growing power!
My lord, you promised me their overthrow;
And while your promise kept its aspect fresh,
I waited—none more patiently—till time
Should fill the crescent which I kept in view.
What have you done?—Heaped wealth unlimited,
New offices, new honors, new commands,
Upon my foes; until the blazonry
Of your additions has so charged their shields,
As almost to conceal the left-hand bar.
This is your work, and this is my revenge!

Alburquerque.
'T is the beginning. You have seen a hawk
Mounting the heavens, to strike his rising prey;
When does he wheel, and make the fatal stoop?
Not while his quarry towers above his head,
But when his wing has won the upper place;
And the tired heron, shuddering with affright,
Sees the sharp beak and talons of his foe
Poising between him and the blue of heaven.
The Guzmans rise, but we rise faster, madam,
To overtop them in their venturous flight.

Doña M.
Words, words! you give me naught but pretty words,
And I ask deeds.

Alb.
You'll have them ere you think.
Look at the state in which I found Castile!—
A kingdom veined and arteried with plots,
Flowing and ebbing, crossing and recrossing,
Through every corner of her wide domain.
Here Lara, whispering of the royal blood
That came to him from the tenth king Alfonso;
There Aragon, full of the sweeping claim
Of its Infanté, nephew to the king,
Your former husband.—Here was cause for strife!
But add to this, a hundred haughty lords,
Shut up in towns and castles, with demands
Upon the crown that grew as days went by.—
Not to forget the Moorish war, bequeathed
By your great husband to his only son.
Madam, this net-work cramped me, hand and foot,
Till I burst through it. And I tell you now—
Even while I hold these elements in check—
That if King Pedro die, or I but slack
My rigid grasp, Castile shall see a storm,
To which mere chaos would be harmony.
Why, let the boys of Doña Leonor
Strut, fume, and threaten, if they do no more.
I'll be the first to find them gilded coats,
Until I choose to strip them to the bone!

Doña M.
There seems some reason in your policy.
And yet my—

Alb.
Reason! good lady, were that all!
If plain, blunt sense could compass my designs,
I'd go to bed at noonday. But the king,
He must be pleased with hunting-shows and games,
Or vexed with tangled matters of the state,—
Talked with and mystified; until for love
Of present pleasure, or disgust with rule,
He flings his crown into my ready hands.
Then, Don Enrique must be found new toys,
Before the old ones weary. Even now
He scours the country, drumming up old friends,
And mustering new allies. And I—poor I—
Must rack my brain for some fresh dancing-jack,
To keep him quiet.

Doña M.
And the mother, sir?

Alb.
Ay, ay; I know not what her grace is at.
The marriage of her eldest son, I hear,
With Don Fernando's sister.

Doña M.
So, indeed?
Juana shares her prison, and Enrique
Visits it daily.

Alb.
I must look to that.
The Guzman is Juana's guardian,
By King Alfonso's order, and Biscay
The ward's fair portion. Hum! Biscay—Biscay!—
A dangerous foe, and a fast friend. That land
Breeds natural warriors; the children, there,
Teeth on a sword-hilt. I have only given
Titles and gewgaws, no effective power;
But this Biscay is very solid stuff.—
They shall not have it. Here is more to do:
Wheedle Fernando, threaten Leonor,
And gain possession of Juana. Gods!
I am both minister and harlequin,—
Head to the state, and jester to the court!
Did not the king, Alfonso, pre-contract
Enrique with Juana?

Doña M.
Surely, sir:
There was some stir when he betrothed the two.

Alb.
I had forgotten.

Doña M.
I have not. 'T is one
Of the grave matters in my long account
Against the Guzman. 'T was a holiday,
By the king's order, when the deed was sealed;
'T will be a fast-day ere 't is ratified!

Alb.
Right, right! Here is Fernando—Lara too.
(Enter Lara and Villena. Maria retires.)
Well met, my lords! Lara, a word with you.
[Takes him apart.]
There 's a new faction making head, they say,
With claims no humbler than the crown itself—
Your crown, perchance—the crown which you may wear,
If Pedro die without an heir. In sooth,
The king is sickly; and Castile, I trow,
Would ne'er accept a king from Aragon.
Look to it, Lara.

Lara.
What new plot is this?

Alb.
The Guzmans'. Trastamara and Fadrique
Are busy marshalling their chiefest friends,
And spreading rumors, that Alfonso willed
The crown to them, among the multitude.

Lara.
Upstarts!

Alb.
Yet powerful. Would it not be well
To counterplot among their friends, and crush
The seeds of treason ere they take firm root?

Lara.
It would, indeed. I will about it straight.

[Going.]
Alb.
I'll tell you more, anon.

Lara.
Thanks, thanks!

[Exit.]
Alb.
That bee
Will buzz in Lara's brain for many a day.
He and the Guzmans will have merry times,
Among themselves, while I look on and laugh.
[Aside.]
Ah! Don Fernando, 't is a joy to me
To see your smiling features in the court.
Your sister favors you—and, by the by,
Where is that lady?

[Taking him apart.]
Villena.
With her guardian.

Alb.
Her guardian?—who, sir?

Vil.
Doña Leonor.
Her dismal prison, to my sister's eyes,
Is the bright spot of Spain.

Alb.
It is a pity—
A grievous pity! For the king should see
Those charms, the churlish maiden hides from him.
He must be married.—Well, well!—

Vil.
Did you say
The king designs to marry?

Alb.
Not to-day.

Vil.
My sister is betrothed to Don Enrique.

Alb.
A very grievous pity!

Vil.
Why, my lord?

Alb.
His star seems waning. He will scarce out-live
The many schemes he is so apt at framing,—
Rebellions, murders, and what not.

Vil.
Good Heaven!
Is he a traitor?

Alb.
'T is a pity, though!
I chose your sister as a proper maid
To bring beneath the notice of Don Pedro.
In sooth, I might have pushed her excellence
Some steps before the others. Well, you say
She is betrothed; of course, that ends it all.

Vil.
My lord—

Alb.
I'll not detain you.

Vil.
If you mean
Your choice fell on Juana, as our queen,
I see no obstacle—

Alb.
Nor I, forsooth:
Who could be worthier?

Vil.
She shall come to court.

Alb.
That would require a deal of management:
For Doña Leonor can keep her ward,
By the Castilian laws, against us all.
Ask the king's warrant.

Vil.
That I will!

Alb.
And, lo!
Here comes his grace to grant it.

(Enter Don Pedro from hawking, with a bird upon his fist; accompanied by Enrique, Courtiers, Falconers with hawks, &c.)
Don Pedro.
Pray you, brother,
Give me your hawk. He is a gallant bird;
How close his feathers lie! and what a spread
Of wing he makes in his audacious flight!
There is a head becomes its feathery crest
More than black Edward's; and his sinewy neck,
Lithe as a serpent's, joins his arching chest
Without a break. Mark, how assured a grip
His talons take upon my glove! Your hand,
Cased in a gauntlet, could not pinch me thus.
Give me the bird.

Enrique.
It flatters me, to think
I can bestow a favor on your grace.
'T is only quittance too.

Don P.
O! marry, yes;
He slew my falcon. Alburquerque, hark!

Alb.
Your grace?

Don P.
Your gift, the great Burgundian hawk,
Was but a haggard, after all your praise.
This is my brother's bird. I'll tell you, now,
How your Burgundian suffered. For a wager,
As to which hawk could strike the quarry first—
Mine or Enrique's—we both cast them off.
But the shrewd heron slipped between the two,
Dropped like a stone, and left the rivals there,
Facing each other, in their topmost flight.
A while they paused, and then, 'gainst nature, rushed
Grappling together. 'T would have moved your blood,
Had you but seen the feathered warriors tilt!
Beak threatening beak, and talon locked in talon,
Wheeling and darting, striking and retreating,
Like two brave jousters at a course of spears,
While through the air their riven armor fell
In feathery clouds. Now, your Burgundian hawk
Waged battle nobly; then, anon, he turned,
Turned like a craven—had he flown to me,
I would have wrung his head off—turned and fled!
But Don Enrique's falcon closed, and struck,
Straight through the coward's gorge, a deadly blow!
“Foul!” cried I; “Fair!” Enrique cried; and while
We stood there wrangling, down fell Burgundy,
Headlong, to earth!

[Laughs.]
Alb.
A battle royal, sire!
Worthy the great spectators.

Don P.
Tell me, now—
You store your beauty in your country house—
Who was the fair one that reclined upon
Your window-ledge, as we rode forth to-day?
Par Dieu! I heard strange music in the air,
And smelt new odors, as I gazed upon
That wonder, sitting in a haze of light,
Which seemed to eddy with my whirling brain,
And bring a most delicious sickness o'er me.

Alb.
Unless your grace may mean my grandmother,
Who thinks her charms but ripen with her years,
I have no other female, save my ward,
Maria de Padilla,—a fair girl,
As women go in this world.

Don P.
Wondrous fair!

Alb.
(Aside.)
Nibbling already! When the time is come
That I must look you up a lady-love,
To keep your grace from ogling my Castile,
Maria shall succeed the hawks and dogs:
But hawks and dogs must serve you yet a while.

Vil.
Your grace, a boon! I ask my sister—

Alb.
(Aside to him.)
Hist!
Wait till Enrique goes.

Don P.
Your sister, how?

Vil.
I must reply. (Aside to Alburquerque.)
She is the ward, your grace,
Of Doña Leonor, a prisoner now,
And, therefore, not a guardian capable
To fill her duties. I demand Juana,
Both as her brother, and by right of law.

Don P.
These are high words.

Alb.
(Aside to Villena.)
Shrink, shrink, or lose your suit!

Don P.
Is not Juana de Villena free
To come and go, without restraint or dread?

En.
Brother—

Vil.
Your grace—

Alb.
Your highness—

Don P.
Gentlemen,
This may be zeal, but 't is not courtesy.
Enrique, speak.

En.
He has a brother's eye
To some rich lordships in Biscay.

Vil.
And thou—

Don P.
Now, by the light of heaven, you quarrel here,
Here, in our presence! Don Fernando, think
Where you are standing; and remember, too,
He whom you “thou,” with impudent contempt,
Is brother to your king!

Vil.
I pray your grace—

Don P.
No more! There 's many a door to the Alcazar,
And till your sister may see fit to walk
Through one of them, she 's welcome to remain.

En.
I thank you, brother.

Don P.
Thank Castilian law,
To which we bow, with the same reverence
As does the poorest subject in our realm.

Alb.
Abandon all, and trust your cause to me.

[Apart to Villena.]
Vil.
Needs must,—and so forth.

[Aside.]
Don P.
Ho! break up the court!
This scene distempers me. Your arm, Enrique.
I am not well.

Alb.
Room, for the king—room, room!

[Exit Don Pedro, supported by Enrique, with all the others except Doña Maria and Alburquerque.]
Doña Maria.
You'll never govern him. My son complained,
And I must follow.

[Exit.]
Alb.
A headstrong colt, I own—
A very devil to resist the spur;
And yet he may be managed by a hand
That feels the bit with caution, and applies
His rages to his rider's furtherance.
Yes, I can ride him; for one simple reason,—
He cannot find his way unless I guide.

[Exit.]

SCENE II.

The Same. A Prison-Room in the same. Leonor de Guzman alone.
Leonor.
A change from my gay court, a sorry change!
Yet what is life but changes? And would not
Life's sweetness cloy, without its bitterness?
The ebbs and flows of being keep its tides
Fresh on the surface, while the central soul,
Like some volcano of the under sea,
Boils on forever—on, though storm or calm
Rule o'er the outer and apparent flood—
Setting its streams of thought, now here, now there,
In purifying motion. I oft think
That they whose lives seem calmest to the view,
And most unmarked by fortune's varying stamp,
Have most turmoil within. For, were it not,
Mere want of action would unstring the mind,
And settle idleness in idiocy.
So let me think, though every thought of mine
Move with a shadow of remembered grief;
And in my prison, like the close-pent brain,
Be still the power that gives free sinews work.
I have an influence on the world beyond;
And I, who nothing hope from earth's desires—
I, whose sole hope beacons across the grave—
I, who stand calmly, waiting for God's breath
To waft me towards him and his royal guest,
The great Alfonso—I indeed should be
A mighty instrument for others' good.
Therefore, while life is mine, my sons shall have
The best of me.
(Enter Juana de Villena.)
Good-morrow, gentle daughter!
May I address thee thus? This pretty hand
Was pledged to my Enrique.

Juana.
And there rests,
In maiden widowhood.

Leo.
One faithful heart,
One miracle of nature, in our midst!

Jua.
Madam, the heart is sorrowing that the hand
Cannot keep faith.

Leo.
Thou 'rt melancholy then?
Thou lov'st the Condé?—thou would'st marry him?

Jua.
I said so once, with all my strength of soul,—
I have not altered since.

Leo.
Then get thee ready;
Thou shalt be married ere the sun go down.

Jua.
I doubt.—How can I doubt? Your uttered word
Has ever carried the command of fate.

Leo.
I am quite serious. See, Enrique comes!
In faith, I feel a mother's jealousy;
I never know to which of us he comes.

(Enter Enrique.)
Enrique.
Mother!

[Embraces her.]
Leo.
Here 's one who has a sweeter claim.

En.
Forgive me, dear Juana! I have much
That will concern you both. Your brother vows
To tear you from us, dearest.

Leo.
And the king?—

En.
Will not consent.

Leo.
Then she shall not go hence.

En.
The king is ill. A sudden malady,
Of swift and dangerous seeming, struck him down
As he gave audience. All is in confusion,
And each man speculates upon his death.
The rival claimants for the doubtful crown—
Parties of Lara and of Aragon—
With factious haste, are almost up in arms.
Let them get up, and we'll begin to stir.

Leo.
Heaven spare Don Pedro!

En.
Frankly, so say I.
Just now, our friends are scantily prepared
To push our fortunes. Fight or fall we must,
Should Pedro leave us.

Leo.
True. He stood our friend—
Who had most cause to fear us—with a strength
That made his boyish port heroical,
When the whole court was thirsting for our blood.
Heaven save Don Pedro, therefore! Now, my son,
Should the king die, before thy marriage-rites
With fair Juana have been solemnized,
Thou 'dst miss thy bride.

Jua.
Let me retire.

[Going.]
Leo.
Come back,
Thou arrant runaway!

Jua.
Indeed—indeed—

Leo.
Indeed, indeed, thou art a very woman!

[Laughing.]
En.
Gentle Juana, do I frighten thee?

Jua.
O! no, my Lord.

En.
Why dost thou fly me, then?

Jua.
I do not know.

Leo.
I do. Nay, tremble not;
Our sex's secrets are quite safe with me.
But, to be plain, your nuptials are in peril,
And, with all secrecy, must be performed
Before the day be older. Fashion it
To suit yourselves.

[Exit.]
Jua.
Nay, now, do you come back.

En.
She 's gone, and left thee to thy direful fate,—
Alone with one who loves thee! Sweet Juana,
How does my mother's purpose seem to thee?

Jua.
To me? How seems it to your lordship?

En.
Nay,
How seems it to your ladyship? A sigh!
It seems to me the summit of my fate,
The spot from whence I look on happiness,
As on a pleasant land, from some great hill;
Just when the Spring is freshest, ere a leaf
Curls with the yellowing Summer; while the fruit
Is folded in the blossom, and a sun,
Rich with the humid promise of the year,
Looks through the hazy air, and wraps the whole
In dreamy quiet. Dearest, if our lives
Assume no brightness from this point of view,
Let us turn atheists; for love was given
As a foretaste of what the saints enjoy.

Jua.
More than my ear finds rapture in your words.
Ah! sir, this eloquence may tire some day,
Or the sweet lips that utter it for me
May keep it for another.

En.
Dost thou croak?
Has the mild dove changed voices with the raven?
Here 's that at which my lips will never tire.

[Kisses her.]
(Enter Alburquerque and Villena, with Attendants.)
Alburquerque.
Caught in the act!

En.
Ha! sir, do even you
Break on my mother's privacy without
A customary warning?

Alb.
I'm short-sighted,
But, pray, is that your mother? What a blush!

[Laughing.]
En.
Is it a privilege of prime ministers,
To offer insult wheresoe'er they please?

Alb.
Forgive me, Condé, I am somewhat gay;
'T would be self-cruelty to stop my humor.
Doña Juana, you must come with us.

Jua.
Why should I come?

Alb.
(Shaking a paper.)
I 've warrant why you should.

En.
Don Pedro's order?

Alb.
Ay, sir.

Villena.
Sister, come:
You should not harbor with this base-born tribe.

En.
You are her brother, and may wag your tongue
Without my notice.

Jua.
Dear Enrique, no!
I will not leave for all the kings on earth.
As my betrothed, and a Castilian knight,
I charge you to protect me from these men!

En.
While I have life. Without there!
[Draws.]
(Enter armed Attendants.)
Gentlemen,
The odds are not so great.

Alb.
Arrest them both!
In the king's name, I order it!

[His party advance.]
En.
Stand back!
You that come on so lightly, beat retreat,
Or we will drive you!

Alb.
Forward, for the king!

[Draws.]
(As the two parties engage, enter between them Leonor de Guzman.)
Lenor.
What means this clamor? In my lodgings too!
Do you, sirs, claim to be half civilized,
Or are ye but a pack of wolves? Put up!
Think ye I ne'er saw weapons bare before,
That you would daunt me? What, Lord Chancellor,
Are you the foremost in your own disgrace?
For honor's sake, explain!

Alb.
I have a warrant—

Leo.
First let me read it; then I'll understand
Your motive in this most disgraceful brawl.

Alb.
I have a warrant from Don Pedro, madam,
To claim the person of your ward, Juana.

Leo.
And I would read it.

Alb.
An hidalgo's word
Is proof enough.

Leo.
That very much depends
On the hidalgo.

Alb.
(Aside to Villena.)
Damn her cunning! 'Sdeath!
We 're trapped already. Understand, I said
I'll have a warrant—

Leo.
Get your warrant first,
And take the lady after. Sir, I know
Each turning in that crooked brain of yours;
There 's not a labyrinth so full of guile,
In all your mind, but I have tracked it out,
From its least issue to its turbid source.
Give up your treachery, at least with me,
And take to downright violence at once.
Here I, a guardian by Castilian law,
Stand on my rights as a Castilian dame:
Now let the proudest lord within the land,
Unbacked by orders from the throne itself,
Abide the conflict! On this outraged spot,
I'll see my household butchered, one by one,
Ere I will yield a tittle of my rights!

Alb.
We are dismissed. 'T were best to go at once.
[Aside to Villena.]
[Going, he turns back.]
I'll have the warrant, though, or lose my head,—
Ay, and die talking!

Leo.
Of all things but heaven.
Ah! you shrewd schemer of iniquity,
Look that the prodigal plots you send abroad
Do not return from feeding with the swine,
On husks and offal, to offend their father,
While he is sitting in prosperity
Among his kindred!

Alb.
Look you, I will have
The warrant!

Leo.
You shall have the lady, then.

Alb.
Heaven speed you! We are entered in a race;
One or the other shall trip up ere long.

[Exit, with Villena and Attendants.]
Leo.
Now for your marriage! There is not a moment
So small, within our reckoning of time,
That is not crowded with a thousand checks
To us and our design. Some one of you,
Seek out my chaplain, with your greatest speed
[Exit an Attendant.]
Enrique and Juana, deck yourselves
For the blessed rites. I will forgive the haste
Your toilets may betray. Speed, speed, my loves,
And not fine raiment, is our great need now!

[Exeunt.]