University of Virginia Library

ACT the Second.

Enter Don Sanchez.
Relentless Fortune! thou hast done thy Part,
Neglected nothing to oppose my Love.
But thou shalt find, in thy Despight, I'll on;
Wer't thou not blind indeed, thou had'st foreseen
The Honour done this Hour to old Alvarez,
His being nam'd the Prince's Governor,
(Which I well know th'ambitious Gormaz aim'd at)
Must like a Wildfire's Rage embroil their Union,
Rekindle Jealousies in Gormaz' Heart,
Whose fatal Flame must bury all in Ashes:
But see, he comes, and seems to ruminate
With pensive Grudge the King's too partial Favour:

Gormaz on the other Side.
Gor.
The King methinks is sudden in his Choice—
'Tis true, I never sought (but therefore is
Not less the Merit) nor obliquely hinted,
That I desir'd the Office—He has heard
Me say, the Prince his Son I thought was now
Of age to change his pratling Female Court,
And claim'd a Governor's instructive Guidance—
Th'Advice it seems was fit—but not th'Adviser—
Be't so—why is Alvarez then the Man?
He may be qualify'd—I'll not dispute—
But was not Gormaz too of equal Merit?
Let me not think Alvarez plays me foul—
That cannot be—he knew I wou'd not bear it—
And yet why he's so suddenly prefer'd—
I'll think no more on't—Time will soon resolve me.

D. San.
Not to disturb, my Lord, your graver Thoughts,
May I presume—

Gor.
Don Sanchez may command me.
This youthful Lord is sworn our Houses Friend,
If there's a Cause for jealous Thought, he'll find it.

Aside.
D. San.
I hear, my Lord, the King has fresh Advice receiv'd
Of a design'd Invasion from the Moors,
Holds it confirm'd, or is it only Rumour?

Gor.
Such new Alarms indeed his Letters bring,
But yet their Grounds seem'd doubtful at the Council.

D. San.
May it not prove some Policy of State?
Some bugbear Danger of our own creating?
The King I have observ'd is skill'd in Rule,
Perfect in all the Arts of tempering Minds,
And—for the publick Good—can give Alarms
Where Fears are not, and hush them where they are.

Gor.
'Tis so! he hints already at my Wrongs.

[Aside.
D. San.
Not but such Prudence well becomes a Prince:
For Peace at Home is worth his dearest Purchase:
Yet he that gives his just Resentments up,
Tho' honour'd by the Royal Mediation,
And sees his Enemy enjoy the Fruits,
Must have more Vertues than his King, to bear it—
Perhaps, my Lord, I am not understood,
Nay, hope my jealous Fears have no Foundation;
But when the Tyes of Friendship shall demand it,
Don Sanchez wears a Sword that will revenge you.

[Going.
Gor.
Don Sanchez, stay—I think thou art my Friend,
Thy noble Father oft has serv'd me in
The Cause of Honour, and his Cause was mine.
What thou hast said, speaks thee Balthazar's Son,
I need not praise thee more—If I deserve
Thy Love, refuse not what my Heart's concern'd
To ask; speak freely of the King, of me,
Of old Alvarez, of our late Alliance,
And what has follow'd since: then sum the Whole,
And tell me truly, where the Account's unequal:

D. San.
My Lord, you honour with too great a Trust
The Judgment of my unexperienc'd Years,
Yet for the Time I have observ'd on Men,
I've always found the generous open Heart
Betray'd, and made the Prey of Minds below it.
O! 'tis the Curse of manly Vertue, that
Cowards, with Cunning, are too strong for Heroes:
And since you press me to unfold my Thoughts,
I grieve to see your Spirit so defeated,
Your just Resentments by vile Arts of Court,
Beguil'd, and melted to resign their Terror.
Your honest Hate, that had for Ages stood,
Unmov'd, and firmer from your Foes Defiance,
Now sapp'd, and undermin'd by his Submission.
Alvarez knew you were impregnable
To Force, and chang'd the Soldier for the Statesman;
While you were yet his Foe profess'd,
He durst not take these Honours o'er your Head;
Had you still held him at his Distance due,
He wou'd have trembl'd to have sought this Office.
When once the King inclin'd to make his Peace,
I saw too well the Secret on the Anvil,
And soon foretold the Favour that succeeded:
Alas! this Project has been long concerted,
Resolv'd in private 'twixt the King and him,
Laid out and manag'd here by secret Agents,
While he, good Man, knew nothing of the Honour,
But from his sweet Repose, was dragg'd t'accept it,
O! it inflames my Blood to think his Fear
Shou'd get the Start of your unguarded Spirit,
And proudly vaunt it in the Plumes he stole
From you.

Gor.
O! Sanchez, thou hast fir'd a Thought,
That was before but dawning in my Mind:
O! now afresh it strikes my Memory,
With what dissembled Warmth the artful King
First charg'd his Temper with the Gloom he wore,
When I supply'd his late Command of General.
Then with what fawning Flattery to me,
Alvarez, Fear disguis'd his trembling Hate,
And sooth'd my yielding Temper to believe him.

D. San.
Not Flattery, my Lord; tho' I must grant,
'Twas Praise well tim'd, and therefore skilful.

Gor.
Now on my Soul, from him 'twas loathsome Daubing.
I take thy Friendship, Sanchez, to my Heart;
And were not my Ximena rashly promis'd—

D. San.
Ximena's Charms might grace a Monarch's Bed,
Nor dares my humble Heart admit the Hope,
Or, if it durst, some fitter Time shou'd shew it,
Results more pressing now demand your Thought;
First ease the Pain of your depending Doubt,
Divide this fawning Courtier from the Friend.

Gor.
Which way shall I receive, or thank thy Love?

D. San.
My Lord, you over-rate me now—but see,
Alvarez comes—now probe his hollow Heart,
Now while your Thoughts are warm with his Deceit,
And mark how calmly he'll evade the Charge:
My Lord, I'm gone.

[Exit.
Ger.
I am thy Friend for ever.

Enter Alvarez.
Alv.
My Lord, the King is walking forth to see
The Prince, his Son, begin his Horsemanship;
If you're inclin'd to see him, I'll attend you.

Gor.
Since Duty calls me not, I have no Delight
To be an idle Gaper on another's Business.
You may indeed find Pleasure in the Office,
Which you've so artfully contriv'd to fit.

Alv.
Contriv'd, my Lord! I'm sorry such a Thought
Can reach the Man, whom you've so late embrac'd.

Gor.
Men are not always what they seem: This Honour,
Which in another's Wrong, you've barter'd for,
Was at the Price of those Embraces bought.

Alv.
Ha! bought? For Shame suppress this poor Suspicion:
For if you think, you can't but be convinc'd,
The naked Honour of Alvarez scorns
Such base Disguise—yet pause a Moment—
Since our great Master with such kind Concern
Himself has interpos'd to heal our Feuds,
Let us not thankless rob him of the Glory,
And undeserve the Grace by new false Fears.

Gor.
Kings are alas! but Men, and form'd like us,
Subject alike to be by Men deceiv'd;
The blushing Court from this rash Choice will see,
How blindly he o'erlooks superior Merit.
Cou'd no Man fill the Place but worn Alvarez?

Alv.
Worn more with Wounds and Victories than Age,
Who stands before him in great Actions past?
But I'm to blame to urge that Merit now,
Which will but shock what Reasoning may convince.

Gor.
The fawning Slave! O Sanchez! how I thank thee!—

[Aside.
Alv.
You have a vertuous Daughter, I a Son,
Whose softer Hearts our mutual Hands have rais'd
Ev'n to the Summit of expected Joy;
If no Regard to me, yet let at least
Your Pity of their Passions rein your Temper.

Gor.
O needless Care! to nobler Objects now
That Son be sure in Vanity pretends,
While his high Father's Wisdom is preferr'd
To guide and govern our great Monarch's Son,
His proud aspiring Heart forgets Ximena;
Think not of him, but your superior Care,
Instruct the Royal Youth to rule with Awe
His future Subjects trembling at his Frown;
Teach him to bind the Loyal Heart in Love,
The bold and factious in the Chains of Fear;
Join to these Vertues too your warlike Deeds,
Inflame him with the vast Fatigues you've born;
But now are past, to shew him by Example,
And give him in the Closet safe Renown:
Read him what scorching Suns he must endure;
What bitter Nights must wake, or sleep in Arms,
To Counter-march the Foe, to give th'Alarm,
And to his own great Conduct owe the Day.
Mark him on the Charts the Order of the Battle,
And make him from your Manuscripts a Hero.

Alv.
Ill temper'd Man! thus to provoke the Heart,
Whose tortur'd Patience is thy only Friend.

Gor.
Thou only to thy self can'st be a Friend;
I tell thee, false Alvarez, thou hast wrong'd me,
Hast basely robb'd me of my Merits Right,
And intercepted our young Prince's Fame;
His Youth with me had found the active Proof,
The living Practice of experienc'd War;
This Sword had taught him Glory in the Field,
At once his great Example, and his Guard:
His unfledg'd Wings from me had learnt to soar,
And strike at Nations trembling at my Name:
This I had done, but thou, with servile Arts,
Hast fawning crept into our Master's Breast,
Elbow'd superior Merit from his Ear,
And, like a Courtier, stole his Son from Glory.

Alv.
Hear me, proud Man—for now I burn to speak,
Since neither Truth can sway, nor Temper touch thee;
Thus I retort with Scorn thy slandr'ous Rage:
Thou! thou the Tutor of a Kingdom's Heir!
Thou guide the Passions of o'er-boiling Youth,
That can'st not in thy Age yet rule thy own!
For shame retire, and purge th'imperious Heart,
Reduce thy arrogant, self-judging Pride,
Correct the Meanness of thy groveling Soul,
Chase damn'd Suspicion from thy manly Thoughts,
And learn to treat with Honour thy Superior.

Gor.
Superior, ha! dar'st thou provoke me Traytor?

Alv.
Unhand me, Ruffian! lest thy Hold prove fatal.

Gor.
Take that! audacious Dotard.

[Strikes him.
Alv.
O! my Blood!
Flow forward to my Arm to chain this Tyger.
If thou art brave, now bear thee like a Man,
And quit my Honour of this vile Disgrace.
[They fight, Alvarez is disarm'd.
O feeble Life! I have too long endur'd thee.

Gor.
Thy Sword is mine, take back th'inglorious Trophy,
Which wou'd disgrace thy Victor's Thigh to wear;
Now forward to thy Charge, read to the Prince
This martial Lecture of thy fam'd Exploits,
And from this wholesome Chastisement, learn thou
To tempt the Patience of offended Honour.

[Exit.
Alv.
O Rage! O wild Despair! O helpless Age!
Wert thou but lent me to survive my Honour?
Am I with martial Toils worn Grey, and see
At last one Hour's Blight lay waste my Laurels?
Is this fam'd Arm to me alone defenceless?
Has it so often prop'd this Empire's Glory,
Fenc'd like a Rampart the Castilian Throne,
To me alone disgraceful! to its Master useless!
O sharp Remembrance of departed Glory!
O fatal Dignity too dearly purchas'd!
Now, haughty Gormaz, now guide thou my Prince;
Insulted Honour is unfit t'approach him.
And thou once glorious Weapon, fare thee well,
Old Servant worthy of an abler Master,
Leave now for ever his abandon'd Side,
And to revenge him, grace some nobler Arm.
My Son!
Enter Carlos.
O Carlos! can'st thou bear Dishonour?

Car.
What Villain dares occasion, Sir, the Question?
Give me his Name, the Proof shall answer him.

Alv.
O just Reproach! O prompt resentful Fire!
My Blood rekindles at thy manly Flame;
And glads my labouring Heart with Youth's Return.
Up, up, my Son—I cannot speak my Shame—
Revenge, Revenge me!

Car.
O my Rage! of what?

Alv.
Of an Indignity so vile, my Heart
Redoubles all its Torture to repeat it.
A Blow! a Blow! my Boy.

Car.
Distraction! Fury!

Alv.
In vain, alas, this feeble Arm assail'd
With mortal Vengeance the Aggressor's Heart:
He dally'd with my Age, o'erborn, insulted,
Therefore to thy young Arm for sure Revenge
My Soul's Distress commits my Sword and Cause:
Pursue him, Carlos, to the World's last Bounds,
And from his Heart tear back our bleeding Honour.
Nay, to inflame thee more, thou'lt find his Brow
Cover'd with Laurels, and far fam'd his Prowess;
Oh! I have seen him dreadful in the Field,
Cut thro' whole Squadrons his destructive way,
And snatch the gore-dy'd Standard from the Foe.

Car.
O Rack not with his Fame my tortur'd Heart,
That burns to know him, and eclipse his Glory.

Alv.
Tho' I foresee, 'twill strike thy Soul to hear it,
Yet since our gasping Honour calls for thy
Relief—O Carlos, 'tis Ximena's Father—

Car.
Ha!

Alv.
Pause not for a Reply—I know thy Love,
I know the tender Obligations of thy Heart,
And ev'n lend a Sigh to thy Distress.
I grant, Ximena dearer than thy Life;
But wounded Honour must surmount them both.
I need not urge thee more; thou know'st my Wrong,
'Tis in thy Heart, and in thy Hand the Vengeance:
Blood only is the Balm for Grief like mine,
Which till obtain'd, I will in Darkness mourn,
Nor lift my Eyes to Light, till thy Return.
But haste, o'ertake this Blaster of my Name,
Fly swift to Vengeance, and bring back my Fame.

[Exit.
Car.