University of Virginia Library

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.]