University of Virginia Library

Scene II.

A Street in Lisbon illuminated.
Many Citizens.
1st Cit.
In sooth our city wears a goodly mien
With her far-blazing fanes, and festive lamps
Shining from all her marble palaces,
Countless as heaven's fair stars. The humblest lattice
Sends forth its radiance. How the sparkling waves
Fling back the light!

2d Cit.
Ay, 'tis a gallant show;
And one which serves, like others, to conceal
Things which must not be told.

3d Cit.
What wouldst thou say?

2d Cit.
That which may scarce, in perilous times like these,
Be said with safety. Hast thou look'd within
Those stately palaces? Were they but peopled
With the high race of warlike nobles, once
Their princely lords, think'st thou, good friend, that now
They would be glittering with this hollow pomp,
To greet a conqueror's entrance?

3d Cit.
Thou say'st well.
None but a land forsaken of its chiefs
Had been so lost and won.

4th Cit.
The lot is cast;
We have but to yield. Hush! for some strangers come:
Now friends, beware.

1st Cit.
Did the king pass this way
At morning, with his train?

2d Cit.
Ay: saw you not
The long and rich procession?

[Sebast. enters with Gonzal. and Zamor.
Seb. to Gon.
This should be
The night of some high festival. E'en thus
My royal city to the skies sent up
From her illumined fanes and towers a voice
Of gladness, welcoming our first return
From Afric's coast. Speak thou, Gonzalez, ask
The cause of this rejoicing. To my heart
Deep feelings rush, so migled and so fast,
My voice perchance might tremble.

Gon.
Citizen,
What festal night is this, that all your streets
Are throng'd and glittering thus?

1st Cit.
Hast thou not heard
Of the king's entry, in triumphal pomp,
This very morn?

Gon.
The king! triumphal pomp!
Thy words are dark.

Seb.
Speak yet again: mine ears
Ring with strange sounds. Again!

1st Cit.
I said, the king,
Philip of Spain, and now of Portugal,
This morning enter'd with a conqueror's train
Our city's royal palace: and for this
We hold our festival.

Seb.
(in a low voice.)
Thou said'st—the king!
His name?—I heard it not.

1st Cit.
Philip of Spain.

Seb.
Philip of Spain! We slumber, till aroused
By th' earthquake's bursting shock. Hath there not fall'n
A sudden darkness? All things seem to float
Obscurely round me. Now 'tis past. The streets
Are blazing with strange fire. Go, quench those lamps;
They glare upon me till my very brain
Grows dizzy, and doth whirl. How dare ye thus
Light up your shrines for him?

Gon.
Away, away!
This is no time, no scene—

Seb.
Philip of Spain!
How name ye this fair land? Why—is it not
The free, the chivalrous Portugal? the land
By the proud ransom of heroic blood
Won from the Moor of old? Did that red stream
Sink to the earth, and leave no fiery current
In the veins of noble men, that so its tide,
Full swelling at the sound of hostile steps,
Might be a kingdom's barrier?

2d Cit.
That high blood
Which should have been our strength, profusely shed
By the rash King Sebastian, bathed the plains
Of fatal Alcazar. Our monarch's guilt
Hath brought this ruin down.

Seb.
Must this be heard,
And borne, and unchastised. Man, darest thou stand
Before me face to face, and thus arraign
Thy sovereign?

Zam.
(aside to Seb.)
Shall I lift the sword, my Prince,
Against thy foes?

Gon.
Be still—or all is lost.

2d Cit.
I dare speak that which all men think and know.
'Tis to Sebastian, and his waste of life,
And power, and treasure, that we owe these bonds.

3d Cit.
Talk not of bonds. May our new monarch rule
The weary land in peace! But who art thou?
Whence com'st thou, haughty stranger, that these things,
Known to all nations, should be new to thee?

Seb.
(wildly.)
I come from regions where the cities lie
In ruins, not in chains.

[Exit with Gonzal. and Zamor.
2d Cit.
He wears the mien
Of one that hath commanded; yet his looks
And words were strangely wild.

1st Cit.
Mark'd you his fierce
And haughty gesture, and the flash that broke
From his dark eye, when King Sebastian's name
Became our theme?

2d Cit.
Trust me, there's more in this
Than may be lightly said. These are no times
To breathe men's thoughts i'th' open face of heaven
And ear of multitudes. They that would speak
Of monarchs and their deeds, should keep within
Their quiet homes. Come, let us hence, and then
We'll commune of this stranger.