University of Virginia Library

ACT the Third.

Garcia and Gormaz.
Gor.
The King is Master of his Will and me.
But be it as it may—what's done's irrevocable.

Gar.
My Lord, you ill receive this Mark of Favour,
And while thus obstinate, inflame your Fault.
When soveraign Power descends to ask of Subjects
The due Submission, which its Will may force,
Your Danger's greater from such slighted Mildness,
Than shou'd you disobey its full Commands.

Gor.
The Consequence, perhaps, may prove it so.

Gar.
Have you no Fear of what his Frown may do?

Gor.
Has he no Fear of what my Wrongs may do?
Men of my Rank are not in Hours undone;
When I am crush'd, I fall with Vengeance round me.

Gar.
The rash Indignity you've done Alvarez,
Without some Proof of Wrong, bears no Excuse.

Gor.
I am my self the Judge of what I feel,
I feel him false, and feeling must resent.

Gar.
Shall it be deem'd a Falshood to accept
A Dignity by Royal Hands conferr'd?

Gor.
He shou'd have wav'd it; first consulted me.
He might have held me still his Friend sincere,
Have shar'd my Fortunes, as a Friend intreating;
But basely thus to out me of my Right,
By treacherous Acts to do me private Wrong,
Is what I never can forgive, and have resented.

Gar.
But in this, Violence you offend the King.
The Sanction of whose Choice claim'd more Regard.

Gor.
Why am I fretted with these Chains of Honour,
Less free than others in my just Resentments;
Who unprovok'd my self, do no Man Wrong,
But injur'd, am as Storms implacable.

Gar.
My Lord, this stubborn Temper will undo you.

Gor.
Then, Sir, Alvarez, will be satisfy'd.

Gar.
Be yet perswaded, and compose this Broil.

Gor.
My Resolution fix'd; let's wave the Subject.

Gar.
Will you refuse all Terms of Reparation?

Gor.
All! all! that are not from my Honour due!

Gar.
Dare you not trust that Honour with your King?

Gor.
My Life's my King's! my Honour is my own.

Gar.
What's then in short your Answer? For the King
Expects it on my first Return.

Gor.
'Tis this,
That I dare die, but cannot bow to Shame.

Gar.
My Lord, I take my Leave.

Gor.
Don Garcia's Servant.
[Exit Garcia.
Who fears not Death, smiles at the Frowns of Power.

Enter Carlos.
Car.
My Lord, your Leave to talk with you.

Gor.
Be free.
I did expect you on this late Occasion.

Car.
I'm glad to find you do my Honour right,
And hope you'll not refuse it wrong'd Alvarez.

Gor.
He had a Sword to right himself.

Car.
That Sword is here.

Gor.
'Tis well; the Place—and let our Time be short.

Car.
One Moment's Respite for Ximena's sake,
She has not wrong'd me, and my Heart wou'd spare her;
We both, without a Stain to either's Honour,
May pity her Distress, and pause to save her.
Nor need I blush, that I suspend my Cause,
Since with its Vengeance her sure Woes are blended:
Not for my self, but for her tender sake,
I bend me to the Earth, and beg for Mercy.
Let not her Vertues suffer for her Love;
O! lay not on her Innocence the Grief
Of a mourn'd Father's, or a Lover's Blood:
O! spare her Sighs, prevent her streaming Tears;
Stop this Effusion of my bleeding Honour,
And heal, if possible, its Wounds with Peace.

Gor.
What you have offer'd for Ximena's sake,
Will, in her Gratitude, be full repaid;
And for the Peace you ask, that's yours to give.
Submission 'tis in vain to hope, for know,
I have this Hour refus'd it to the King.
Thy Father's Arts betray'd my Friendship's Faith;
I felt the Wrong, and as I ought, reveng'd it.
We're now on equal Terms: but if his Cause
So deep is in thy Heart, that thou resolv'st,
With fruitless Vengeance, to provoke my Rage,
Then thou, not I, art Author of thy Ruine.

Car.
Support me now, Ximena, guard my Heart,
And bar this pressing Provocation's Entrance.
Have I, my Lord, in Person wrong'd you?

Aside.
Gor.
No.

Car.
Why then these fatal Cruelties to me,
That I must lose, or wrong Ximena's Love?
For she must scorn me, shou'd I bear my Shame;
Or fly me, tho' my Honour shou'd revenge it.

Gor.
Place that to thy Misfortune, not to me.

Car.
Not to you?
Am I not forc'd by Wrongs, I blush to name,
To prosecute this fatal Reparation?
Which, had you Temper, or a Feeling here;
Had you the Spirit to confess your Error,
Your Heart's Confusion had subdu'd Alvarez,
And thrown you at his injur'd Feet for Pardon.

Gor.
If thou comest here to talk me from my Sense,
Or think'st with Words t'extenuate his Guilt,
Thou offer'st to the Winds thy forceless Plea.
I will not bear the mention of his Truth;
His Falshood's here, 'tis rooted in my Heart,
And justifies a worse Revenge than I have taken.

Car.
O Patience, Heav'n! O tortur'd Rage! Not speak!
The pious Pangs of my torn Soul insulted!
Have I for this, bow'd down my humble Knee,
To swell thy Triumph o'er my Father's Wrongs,
And hear him tainted with a Traytor's Practice?
O give me back that vile submissive Shame,
That I may meet thee with retorted Scorn,
And right my Honour with untainted Vengeance:
Yet no—with-hold it! take it to acquit my Love:
That Sacrifice was to Ximena due,
Her helpless Sufferings claim'd that Pang: And since
I cannot bring Dishonour to her Arms,
Thus my rack'd Heart pours forth its last Adieus,
And makes Libation of its bleeding Peace:
Farewel, dear injur'd Softness—follow me.

Gor.
Lead on—yet hold! shou'd we together forth,
It may create Suspicion, and prevent us:
Propose the Place, I'll take some different Circle.

Car.
Behind the Ramparts, near the Western Gate.

Gar.
Expect me on the Instant.

Car.
Poor Ximena!

[Exit.
Gor.
[Writes in Tablets.

[Exit.
Enter Belzara, and Ximena.
Bel.
Look up, Ximena, and suppress thy Fears,
What tho' a Transient Cloud o'ercast thy Joy,
Shall we conclude from thence a Wrack must follow?

Xim.
Can I resist the Fears that Reason forms?
Have I not Cause to tremble in the Storm?
While Horror, Ruin, and Despair's in view?
Can I support the good Alvarez' Shame,
Whose generous Heart took Pity on our Love,
And not let fall a grateful Tear to mourn it?
Can I behold fierce Carlos, stung with his Disgrace,
Breaking like Fire from these weak-holding Arms,
And not sink down with Terror at his Rage?
Must I not tremble, for the Blood may follow?
If by his Arm my hapless Father falls,
Am I not forc'd with Rigour to revenge him?
If Carlos by my Father's Sword shou'd bleed,
Am I not bound with double Grief to mourn him?
One gave me Life, shall I not revere him,
The other is my Life, can I survive him?

Bel.
Her Griefs have something of such mournful Force,
That tho' not equal to my own, I feel them.

Xim.
Carlos you see too shuns my Sight, no News,
No Tydings yet arrive, tho' I have sent
My swiftest Fears a Thousand Ways to find him.
Who can support these Terrors of Suspence?

Bel.
Be not thus torn with wild uncertain Fears,
Carlos may yet arrive, and save your Peace;
He is too much a Lover to resist
The tender Pleadings of Ximena's Sorrow,
One Word, one Sigh from you arrests his Arm,
And makes the Tempest of his Rage subside.

Xim:
And say that I cou'd conquer him; with Tears,
And Terrors cou'd subdue his pitious Heart,
To yield his Honour and its Cause to Love,
What will the World not say of his Compliance?
Can I be happy in his Fame's Disgrace?
Can Love subsist on Shame, that sprung from Honour?
Shall I reduce him to such hard Contempt,
And raise on Infamy our Nuptial Joy?
Ah no! no Means are left for my Relief:
Let him resist, or yield to my Distress,
Or Shame, or Sorrow's sure to meet me.

Bel.
Ximena has, I see, a Soul refin'd,
Too Great, too Just, too Noble to be Happy:
True Vertue must despair from this vile World
To crown its Days with unallay'd Reward:
But see, your Servant is return'd! good News,
Kind Heav'n!

Enter a Page.
Xim.
Speak quickly, has thou seen Don Carlos?

Page.
Madam, where your Commands directed me,
I've made the stricted Search in vain to find him.

Xim.
Now, now Belzara, where's that Hope thou gav'st me?

Bel.
Nor hast thou gain'd no Knowledge of his Steps?
Has no one seen him pass, or heard of him?

Page.
As I return'd, the Centinel, that guards
The Gate, inform'd me, that he saw him scarce
Ten Minutes hence pass in disorder'd Haste
From out this very House alone.

Bel.
Alone?

Page.
Alone, and after soon my Lord, wrapt in
His Cloak without a Servant, follow'd him.

Xim.
O Heav'n!

Bel.
No Servant, said'st thou?

Page.
None, and as
My Lord came forth, the Soldier standing to
His Arms, he sign'd Forbidance, and reply'd,
Be sure you saw me not:

Xim.
Then Ruin's sure,
They are engag'd, and fatal Blood must follow:
Excuse, my Dear, this Hurry of my Fate,
One Moment lost may prove an Age too late.

[Exit.
Bel.
Howe'er my own Afflictions press my Heart,
I bear a Part in poor Ximena's Grief,
Tho' e'en the Worst that can befall her Hopes,
May better be endur'd than what I feel!
O! nothing can destroy her Lover's Truth,
Carlos may prove Unhappy, not Inconstant;
Whate'er Disasters may obstruct her Joy,
The Comfort of his Truth is sure to find her,
That Thought, ev'n Pains of parting may remove,
Or fill up all the Space of Absence with Delight.
But I alas, am left to my Despair alone,
Confin'd to sigh in Solitude my Woes,
Or hide with Anguish what I blush to bear.
In vain the Woman's Pride resents my Wrongs,
Unconquer'd Love maintains his Empire still,
And with new Force insults my Heart's Resistance.

Enter Alonzo hastily.
Alon.
Your Pardon, Madam—Have you seen Lord Gormaz?
I come to warn him that he stir not hence,
The Guards are order'd to attend his Doors.

Bel.
Alas they are too late! Carlos and he
Are both gone forth, 'tis fear'd with fatal Purpose;
And poor Ximena drown'd in Tears has follow'd 'em.

Alon.
Then 'tis indeed too late, I wish my Friend,
The rash Don Sanchez, has not blown this Fire.
Be not concern'd, Madam, I know your Griefs,
And as a Friend, have labour'd to prevent 'em.
You have not told Ximena of his Falshood?

Bel.
Alas! I durst not; knowing that her Friendship
Wou'd for my sake so coldly treat his Vows,
That 'twou'd but more provoke him to insult me.

Alon.
You judge him right, Patience will yet recall him,
'Tis not his Love, but Pride, pursues Ximena,
A youthful Heat, that with the Toil will tire:
Be comforted, I'll still observe his Steps,
And when I find him staggering, catch him back
To Love, and warm him with his Vows of Honour:
But Duty calls me to the King—Shall I
Attend you, Madam?

Bel.
Sir, I thank your Care,
My near Concern for poor Ximena's Fate,
Keeps me impatient here, 'till her Return.

[Exeunt.
Enter King, Garcia, Sanchez, Attendants.
King.
Since mild Intreaties fail, our Power shall force him:
Cou'd he suppose his Insult to our Person offer'd,
His Outrage done within our Palace Walls,
Deserv'd the Lenity we've deign'd to shew him:
Is yet Alonzo with our Orders gone?

Gar.
He is, my Lord, but not return'd.

D. San.
Dread Sir,
For what the Count has offer'd to Alvarez,
I dare not plead Excuse; but as his Friend,
Wou'd beg you Royal Leave to mitigate
His seeming Disobedience to your Pleasure.
Restraint, however Just, oppos'd against
The Tyde of Passion, makes the Current fiercer,
Which of it self in time had ebb'd to Reason;
Your Will surpriz'd him in his Heart's Emotion,
E'er Thought had Leisure to compose his Mind;
Great Souls are jealous of their Honour's Shame,
And bend reluctant to injoin'd Submission:
Had your Commands oblig'd him to repair
Alvarez' Wrongs with Hazards in your Service,
Were it to face the double-number'd Foe,
To pass the rapid Stream thro' Showers of Fire,
To force the Trenchment, or to storm the Breach,
I'll answer he'd embrace with Joy the Charge.
And march intrepid in Commands of Honour.

King.
We doubt not of his daring in the Field,
But he mistakes, if he concludes from thence,
That to persist in Wrong, is Height of Spirit,
Or to have acted Wrong, is always base:
Perfection's not the Attribute of Man,
Nor therefore can a Fault confest degrade him:
The lowest Minds have Spirit to offend,
But few can reach the Courage to confess it.
Submitting to our Will, the Count had lost
No Fame, nor can we pardon his Refusal:
What you have said, Don Sanchez, speaks the Friend;
What we resolve, 'tis fit shou'd speak the King:
We both have said enough—The Publick now
Requires our Thought: We are inform'd Ten Sail
Of warlike Vessels, Man'd with our old Foes
The Moors, were late discover'd off our Coast,
And steering to the River's-Mouth their Course.

Gar.
The Lives, Sir, they have lost in like Attempts
Must make them cautious to repeat the Danger;
This is no Time to fear them.

King.
Nor Contemn,
Too full Security has oft been fatal,
Consider with what Ease the Flood at Night,
May bring them down t'insult our Capital:
Let at the Port, and on the Walls our Guards
Be doubl'd; till the Morn, that Force may serve;
Gormaz has tim'd it ill to be in Fault,
When his immediate Presence is requir'd.

Gar.
My Liege, Alonzo is return'd.

Enter Alonzo.
King.
'Tis well!
Have you obey'd us, is the Count confin'd?

Alon.
Your Orders, Sir, arriv'd unhappily
Too late, the Count with Carlos, was before
Gone forth, to end their fatal Difference;
As I came back, I met the gathering Croud
In Fright, and hurrying to the Western Gate,
To see, as they reported, in the Field
The Body of some murther'd Nobleman.
Struck with my Fears, I hasted to the Place,
Where to my Sense's Horror, when arriv'd,
I found them true, and Gormaz just expir'd;
While fair Ximena, to adorn the Woe,
Bath'd his pale breathless Body with her Tears,
Calling with Cries for Justice on his Head,
Whose rueful Hand had done the barbarous Deed:
The pitying Crowd took Part in her Distress,
And join'd her moving Plaints for due Revenge;
While some in kinder Feeling of her Griefs,
Remov'd the mournful Object from her Eyes,
And to the Neighbouring Convent bore the Body,
Which when committed to the Abbot's Care,
I left the pressing Throng to tell the News.

King.
Ximena's Griefs are follow'd with our own,
For tho' in some Degree the haughty Count
Drew on himself the Son's too just Revenge,
We cannot lose without a deep Concern
So true a Subject, and so a brave a Soldier:
However Pity may for Carlos plead,
Death ends his Failings, and demands our Grief.

Alon.
Sir, here in the Tablets of the unhappy Count,
In his own Hand these written Lines were found.

King.
‘Alvarez wrong'd me in my Master's Favour,
[Reading.
‘Carlos is brave, and has deserv'd Ximena.
Strange, generous Spirit, now we pity thee.

Alon.
Behold, Sir, where the lost Ximena comes,
O'erwhelm'd with Sorrow, to demand your Justice.

Enter Ximena.
Xim.
O Sacred Sir! forgive my Grief's Intrusion,
Behold a helpless Orphan at your Feet,
Who for a Father's Blood implores your Justice.

Enter Alvarez, hastily.
Alv.
O! turn, dread Royal Master, turn your Eyes,
See on the Earth your faithful Soldier prostrate,
Whose Honour's just Revenge intreats your Mercy.

Xim.
O godlike Monarch, hear my louder Cries!

Alv.
O be not to the Old and Helpless deaf!

Xim.
Revenge your self, your violated Laws.

Alv.
Support not Violence in rude Aggressors.

Xim.
Be greatly Good, and do the Injur'd Justice.

Alv,
Be greater still, and shew the Valiant Mercy.

Xim.
O Sir, your Crown's Support and Guard is gone;
The impious Carlos' Sword has kill'd my Father:

Alv.
And like a pious Son aveng'd his own.

King.
Rise, fair Ximena, and Alvarez rise!
With equal Sorrow we receive your Plaints,
Both shall be heard apart—proceed Ximena;
Alvarez in your Place you speak, be patient.

Xim.
What can I say? But Miseries like mine
May plead with plainest Truths their pitious Cause.
Is he not dead? Is not my Father kill'd?
Have not these Eyes beheld his ghastly Wound,
And mixt with fruitless Tears his streaming Blood?
That Blood which in his Royal Master's Cause
So oft has sprung him thro' your Foes victorious;
That Blood, which all the raging Swords of War
Cou'd never reach, a young presumptuous Arm,
Has dar'd within your View to sacrifice!
These Eyes beheld it stream—Excuse my Grief,
My Tears will better than my Words explain me.

King.
Take Heart, Ximena, we're inclin'd to hear thee.

Xim.
O shall a Life so faithful to the King
Fall unreveng'd, and stain his Glory?
Shall Merit so important to the State
Be left expos'd to sacrilegious Rage,
And fall the Sacrifice of private Passion?
Alvarez says his Honour was insulted,
Yet, be it so, was there no King to right it?
Who better cou'd protect it than the Donor?
Shall Carlos wrest the Scepter from your Hand,
And point the Sword of Justice whom to punish?
O! if such Outrage may escape with Pardon,
Whose Life's secure from his self-judging Rage?
O where's Protection, if Ximena's Tears,
And tender Passion cou'd not save her Father?

King.
Alvarez, answer her.

Alv.
My Heart's too full:
Divided, torn, distracted with its Griefs,
How can I plead poor Carlos' Cause, when I
Am toucht with Pity of Ximena's Woe?
Her suffering Piety has caught my Soul,
And only leaves me Sorrow to defend me;
Ximena has a Grief I cannot disallow,
Nor dare I hope for Pardon, but your Pity;
Carlos even yet may merit some Compassion,
Perhaps I'm partial to his Piety,
And see his Deeds with a fond Father's Eye,
But that I still must leave to Royal Mercy!
O Sir, imagine what the Brave endure,
When the chaste Front of Honour is insulted,
Her Fame abus'd, and ravish'd by a Blow.
Oh piercing, piercing must the Torture be,
If soft Ximena wanted Power t'appease it.
Pardon this Weakness of o'erflowing Nature,
I cannot see such filial Vertue perish,
And not let fall a Tear to mourn its Hardship.

Xim.
O my divided Heart! oh poor Alvarez!

[Aside.
King.
Compose thy Griefs, my good old Friend, we feel them:

Alv.
If Gormaz' Blood must be with Blood reveng'd,
O do not, Sacred Sir, misplace your Justice,
Mine was the Guilt, and be on me the Vengeance,
Carlos but acted what my Sufferings prompted,
The fatal Sword was not his own, but mine,
I gave it with my Wrongs into his Hand,
Which had been innocent had mine been able.
On me your Vengeance will be just and mild!
My Days alas are drawing to their End,
But Carlos spar'd, may yet live long to serve you:
Preserve my Son, and I embrace my Fate,
Since he has sav'd my Honour from the Grave,
O lay me gently there to rest for ever.

King.

[Exeunt.