University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Street in Talavera. The houses hung with banners, garlands, etc. The street spanned by triumphal arches, and strewn with flowers. Music, bells, shouts, etc., are heard. Enter a crowd of Citizens.
First Citizen.
Has the procession passed?

Second Citizen.
Not yet.

Third Citizen.
Keep back!
Your bushy-head is stuck before my eyes:
I would not see the progress in your hair.

Fourth Citizen.
You 're coarse.

Third C.
But honest.

First C.
Have you seen the king?

Second C.
Often.

First C.
What looks he like?

Second C.
A well-grown boy:
He favors your cub, Pablo.

First C.
So, indeed?

Second C.
Ay, he 's but human; has your aches and ails,—
Sweats when he 's hot, and shivers when he 's cold,—
Eats when he 's hungry, drinks when he is dry,—
Will die, sans question, if he catch the plague,
And go to dust the same as any here.

First C.
That 's odd! He wears a crown?

Second C.
Not always, friend;
'T would make his own crown ache.

First C.
You 're passing dry.

Citizens.
(Within.)
Long live King Pedro!

All.
Ho! long live the king!

(Ladies throw garlands and flowers from the balconies and windows. Music, ringing of bells, etc. Enter, in triumphal procession, Noblemen, Knights, Gentlemen, Priests, Pages, Soldiers, etc., with banners, arms, crosses, etc.; then, Coronel, bearing a great cup.)
First C.
Who 's that?

Second C.
Alonso Coronel, by trade
A traitor: he shifts his lieges with his coats.

First C.
He 's the king's poisoner; for, see his cup.

Second C.
That is a private office.

(Shouts. As Coronel and the rest pass off, enter the Grand Standard-bearer, the Lieutenant-general of Castile, the Lord High Chamberlain, the Captain of the Guard, and others of the royal household, in their robes, and bearing the insignia of their offices.)
First C.
Look, look, sir!
There goes the king, carrying his golden crown
Upon a cushion, for his better ease.

Second C.
The saints forgive! That is the Lord Lieutenant.

First C.
He must be honest, to be trusted thus.
Now, never tell me that's not the king's headsman;
I see the sword. How grim the villain looks!

Second C.
Why, neighbor, he is the Lord Chamberlain.

First C.
Is that the king's sword?

Second C.
Ay.

First C.
Were I the king,
I d keep my sword and jewels to myself;
For fear they 'd knock my brains out with the one,
To steal the other.
(Enter Don Pedro, Alburquerque, Doña Maria, Ladies, &c.)
Who is he that smiles?—
The ugly fellow with the seals and key?—
The king's clerk, ha?

Second C.
The greatest Don in Spain,
Lord Chancellor, and Treasurer of the realm,
Juan de Alburquerque.

First C.
By the saints!
I'll keep my body from his clutches. Lord!
Had ever man such wicked eyes as his!

Third C.
And brains to back them.

[Alburquerque smiles and bows to the people.]
All.
Ho! King Pedro! ho!

[Don Pedro bows.]
First C.
What little boy is that who bows his head?

Second C.
That is the king.

First C.
The Lord forgive me, friend!
I took him for the seal-and-key man's knave,
Aping his master.

Third C.
You might shoot more wide.

All.
Hush! hush!

First C.
The king would speak.

Third C.
The king, indeed!
Wait till the Chancellor has cleared his throat.

(Shouts. Alburquerque ascends a stand, smiling and bowing.)
Alburquerque.
Loyal Castilians, in the king's behalf,
I thank your noble spirits for this cheer.
His grace has pleased to make me orator,
More from affection than my own deserts;
And if my speech sound roughly in your ears,
Blame not the king, but say the instrument
Fits not his purpose.

First C.
That is sweet enough.

Third C.
Soft as the velvet on a tiger's paw.

Alb.
I do not pause for want of matter, friends,
But from a flood of it. 'T were tedious,
Even in your faithful hearing, to recount
The many glories of King Pedro's reign.
You who affect your country—as I trust
All do, within the compass of my voice—
Can call to mind the doleful days she passed
Ere the young king was firmly in his seat.
Which one of you could leave his cottage-door,
With full assurance of a safe return?
Whose wife was sacred? Whose fair daughter kept
Her chastity inviolate? Or who
Had heart to lay up wealth, or gather flocks,
Or plant a vineyard, or plough up a field,
Or do the lightest labor, that reposed
Upon the future for its just reward?
And why? Because the land was faction's prey.
Because the cottage looked askance, in dread,
Upon the neighboring castle. Because law—
That equal arbiter 'twixt high and low—
Was but a word. Because your pleasant fields
Were trodden by the bloody foot of war.
Because your wives were ravished 'neath your eyes,
By shameless ruffians, and your daughters led
Into a servitude more infamous
Than old Egyptian bondage.—Ay, and you
Were scoffed, insulted, scourged,—nay, slain outright,—
If your poor tongues arose in mutiny
Against your savage masters. Scarce a year,
And all these horrors were familiar things.
O, what a change—O, what a blessed change—
Has fallen upon Castile! I 've tamed—I mean,
The king has tamed his lords, destroyed their dens,
Scattered their servile troops, avenged your wrongs;
And turned his nobles to a better use
Than plundering, torturing, and murdering you.
Can you ask more, who have security
For house and household, faith in property,
Equal and proper justice unto all,
And the mild triumphs of a settled peace?

All.
No, no! Long live King Pedro!

Alb.
It assures
His royal mind, to hear you answer thus,
And ratifies his future policy.
There may be some who murmur at the king,
Even while his gentle goodness shelters them:
To them I say, that perfect government
Is not the offspring of a single day;
But, like the greater creatures of the earth,
Is rounded slowly in the womb of time,
And brought to light with more extended pains
Than the less bulky matters of the world.
Once more, I thank you for his majesty;
Who, when he 's hence, would ask your memories
To hold no thoughts of him that are not warmed
By the dear currents of your grateful hearts.
Therefore, his grace has ordered me to give
A royal largess to the suffering poor;
Found a new chapel in Saint Pedro's name;
Rebuild your bridges, open up your roads,
And make your fountains spout with wine to-day.

All.
Long live King Pedro!—God protect the king!

[Exeunt Don Pedro and Alburquerque, bowing, Doña Maria, and the others.]
First C.
'T was a grand speech!

Third C.
You understood it, then?

First C.
O, yes; about the womb of government
Producing monsters, and the like. But, then,
The largess was the thing!

Third C.
He but returns
A piece of what the taxes wrung from us:
He 's liberal in our pockets.

First C.
Friends, come on!
There'll be more speeches, and more largess, too.
What a sweet gentleman the Treasurer is!

[Exeunt.]