University of Virginia Library

ACT the Fourth.

Belzara, alone: In Ximena's Apartment.
Bel.
Sure some illboding Planet must preside
Malignant to the Peace of render Lovers!
Undone Ximena! O relentless Honour!
That first subdu'd thy generous Heart, then rais'd
Thy Lover's fatal Arm to pierce it through
Thy Father's Life, and make thy Vertue wretched:
The hapless Carlos too is lost for ever!
Condemn'd to fly an Exile from her Sight,
In whom he only lives! Oh Heav'n! he's here,
His Miseries have made him desperate.
Enter Carlos.
Carlos, What wild Distraction has possest thee,
That thus thou seek'st thy Safety in thy Ruin?
Is this a Place to hide thy wretched Head,
Where Justice, and Ximena's sure to find thee?

Car.
I wou'd not hide me from Ximena's Sight,
Banisht from her, I every Moment die:
Since I must perish, let her Frowns destroy me,
Her Anger's sharper than the Sword of Justice.

Bel.
Alas, I pity thee, but would not have
Thee tempt the first Emotions of her Heart,
While Duty, and Resentment yet transport her:
I wait each Moment her Return from Court,
Which now, be sure, will be with Friends attended;
O fly, for Pity's sake, regard her Fame,
Shou'd you be seen, what must the World conclude?
Wou'd you increase her Miseries, to have
Malicious Tongues report her Love conceal'd
Beneath the Roof, her Father's Murtherer.
But see, she comes! O hide thee but a Moment!
Kill not her Honour too, let that persuade thee.
[Exit Carlos.
Don Sanchez here! Oh Heav'ns! how I tremble.

[Retires.
Enter Sanchez and Ximena.
D. San.
This noble Conquest, Madam, of your Love,
To After-Ages must Record your Fame,
Just is your Grief, and your Resentment great,
And great the Victim that shou'd fall before it;
But Words are empty Succours to Distress;
Therefore command my Actions to relieve you.
Wou'd you have sure Revenge, employ this Sword,
My Fortune, and my Life is yours to right you;
Accept my Service, and you over pay it.

Bel.
(Apart.)
O faithless, barbarous Man! but I'll divert
Thy cruel Aim, and use my Power for Carlos.

Xim.
O miserable me!

Bel.
Take Comfort, Madam.

D. San.
(Aside.)
Belzara here! then I have lost th'Occasion
Yet I may urge enough to give her Pain:
Commanding me, you make your Vengeance sure.

Xim.
That were t'offend the King, to whom I have
Appeal'd, and whence I now must only wait it.

D. San.
Revenge from Justice, Madam, moves so slow,
That oft the watchful Criminal escapes it.
Appeal to your Resentment, you secure it.
Carlos, you found, wou'd trust no other Power,
And 'tis but just you quit him, as he wrong'd you.

Bel.
Alas! Don Sanchez, Madam, feels not Love,
He little thinks how Carlos fills your Heart;
What shining Glory in his Crime appears;
What Pangs it cost him to take part with Honour:
That you must hate the Hand that could destroy him.
Sanchez, to shew the real Friend, would use
His secret Int'rest with the King to spare him;
For tho' you're bound in Duty to pursue him,
Yet Love, alas! wou'd with a conscious Joy,
Applaud the Power that could unbid preserve him.

Xim.
O kind Belzara! how thou feel'st my Sufferings,
Yet I must think, Don Sanchez means me well.

D. San.
Confusion! how her subtle Tongue has foil'd me—
[Aside.
Madam, some other Time I'll beg your Leave
To wait your Service, and approve my Friendship.

Xim.
Oh! every Friend, but Carlos, is at Hand
To help me! Grief, Sir, is unfit to thank you.

D. San.
Oh! if such Beauties 'midst her Sorrows shine,
What darting Charms must point her smiling Eyes.

[Exit.
Xim.
At length I'm free, at Liberty to think,
And give my Miseries a Loose of Sorrow.
O Belzara! Carlos has kill'd my Father!
Weep! weep my Eyes, pour down your baleful Show'rs,
He that in Grief shou'd be my Heart's Support,
Has wrought my Sorrows, and must fall their Victim.
When Carlos is destroy'd, what Comfort's left me?
Spite of my Wrongs he still inhabits here:
O still his fatal Vertues plead his Cause;
His filial Honour charms my Woman's Heart,
And there ev'n yet he combats with my Father.

Bel.
Restrain these headstrong Sallies of your Heart,
And try with Slumbers to compose your Spirits.

Xim.
O! where's Repose for Misery like mine?
How grievous Heav'n! how bitter is my Portion?
O shall a Parent's Blood cry Unreveng'd?
Shall impious Love suborn my Heart to pay
His Ashes but unprofitable Tears,
And bury in my Shame the great Regards of Duty?

Bel.
Alas! that Duty is discharg'd; you have
Appeal'd to Justice, and shou'd wait its Course.
Nor are you bound with Rigour to enforce it;
His hard Misfortunes may deserve Compassion.

Xim.
O! that they do deserve, it is my Grief;
Cou'd I withdraw my Pity from his Cause,
Were Falshood, Pride, or Insolence his Crime,
My just Revenge, without a Pang, shou'd reach him.
But as he is supported with Excuse,
Defended by the Cries of bleeding Honour,
Whose cruel Laws none but the Great obey;
My hopeless Heart is tortur'd with Extreams,
It mourns in Vengeance, and at Mercy shudders.

Bel.
O what will be at last the dire Resolve
Of your afflicted Soul?

Xim.
There is but one
Can end my Sorrows, and preserve my Fame;
The sole Resource my Miseries can have
Is to pursue, destroy; then meet him in the Grave.
[Going.
Carlos meets her.
Amazement Horror! have my Eyes their Sense?
Or do my raving Griefs create this Phantom?
Support me! help me! hide me from the Vision!
For 'tis not Carlos come to brave my Sorrows.

[Carlos kneels.
Bel.
O turn your Eye, in pity of his Griefs,
Resign'd, and prostrate at your Feet for Mercy.

Xim.
What will my Woes do with me?

Bel.
Now!
Now conquering Love shoot all thy Fires to save him;
Now snatch the Palm from cruel Honour's Brow;
Maintain they Empire, and relieve the Wretched:
O hang upon his Tongue thy thrilling Charms,
To hold her Heart, and kill the Hopes of Sanchez.

[Exit.
Car.
O pierce not thus with thy offended Eyes,
The wretched Heart that of it self is breaking.

Xim.
Can I be wounded, and not shrink with Pain?
Can I support with Temper, him that shed
My Father's Blood triumphant in my Ruin?
O Carlos! Carlos! was thy Heart of Stone?
Was nothing due to poor Ximena's Peace?
O! 'twas not thus I felt new Pains for thee,
When at my Feet, thy Sighs of Love were pity'd,
And all hereditary Hate forgotten!
Tho' bound in filial Honour, to insult
Thy Flame; I broke thro' all to crown thy Vows,
And bore the Censure of my Race to save thee:
And am I thus requited? left forlorn?
The tender Passion of my Heart despis'd!
Cou'd not my Terrors move one Spark of Mercy?
No mild Abatement of thy stern Revenge?
T'excuse thy Crime, or justify my Love?

Car.
O hear me but a Moment.

Xim.
O my Heart!

Car.
One mournful Word!

Xim.
Ah! leave me to despair!

Car.
One dying last Adieu, then wreak thy Vengeance:
Behold the Sword that has undone thee.

Xim.
Ah! stain'd with my Father's Blood! O rueful Object!

Car.
O Ximena!

Xim.
Take hence that horrid Steel,
That, while I bear thy Sight, arraigns my Vertue.

Car.
Endure it rather to support Resentment,
T'inflame thy Vengeance, and to pierce thy Victim:
I am more wretched, than thy Rage can wish me.

Xim.
O cruel Carlos! in one Day thou hast kill'd
The Father with thy Sword, the Daughter with
Thy Sight—O yet remove that fatal Object;
I cannot bear the Glare of its Reproach;
If thou woud'st have me hear thee, hide the Cause,
That wounds Reflection to our mutual Ruin.

Car.
Thus I obey—but how shall I proceed?
What Words can help me to deserve thy Hearing?
How can I plead my wounded Honour's Cause,
Where injur'd Love and Duty are my Judges?
Or how shall I repent me of a Crime,
Which, Uncommitted, had deserv'd thy Scorn?
Yet think not; O I conjure thee! think not,
But that I bore a thousand Racks of Love,
While my conflicting Honour press'd for Vengeance,
O I endur'd! submitted ev'n to Shame,
Begg'd, as for Life, for peaceful Reparation!
But all in vain! like Water sprinkled on
A Fire, those Drops but made him burn the more,
And only added to thy Father's Fierceness.
Reduc'd, at last, to these Extreams of Torture,
That I must be, or Infamous, or Wretched,
I sav'd my Honour, and resign'd to Ruin.
Nor think, Ximena, Honour had prevail'd,
But that thy nobler Soul oppos'd thy Charms,
And told my Heart, none but the Brave deserv'd thee.
Now having thus discharg'd my Honour's Debt,
And wash'd my injur'd Father's Stains away,
What yet remains of Life, is due to Love.
Behold the Wretch, whose Honour's fatal Fame
Is founded on the Ruin of thy Peace:
Receive the Victim, which thy Griefs demand,
Prepar'd to bleed, and bending to the Blow.

Xim.
O Carlos, I must take thee at thy Word,
But must with equal Justice too discharge
My Ties of Love, as fatal Bonds of Duty.
O think not, tho' enforc'd to these Extreams,
My Heart is yet insensible to thee!
O! I must thank thee for thy painful Pause;
The generous Shame thy tortur'd Honour bore,
When at my Father's Feet my Suff'rings threw thee.
Can I present thee in that dear Confusion,
And not with grateful Sighs of Pity mourn thee?
I can lament thee, but I dare not pardon;
Thy Duty done, reminds me of my own;
My filial Piety, like thine distress'd,
Compels me to be miserably Just,
And asks my Love a Victim to my Fame:
Yet think not Duty cou'd o'er Love prevail,
But that thy nobler Soul assures my Heart,
Thou would'st despise the Passion that cou'd save thee.

Car.
Since I must die, let that kind Hand destroy me,
Let not the Wretch once honour'd with thy Love,
Thy Carlos, once thought worthy of thy Arms,
Be dragg'd a publick Spectacle to Justice;
To draw the irksome Pity of a Crowd,
Who may with vulgar Reason call thee Cruel.
My Death from thee will elevate thy Vengeance,
And shew, like mine, thy Duty scorn'd Assistance.

Xim.
Shall I then take Assistance? and from thee?
Accept the Vengeance from thy Heart's Despair?
No, Carlos, no!
I will not judge, like thee, my private Wrongs,
But to the Course of Justice trust my Duty,
Which shall, in every Part, untainted flow;
Unmix'd with gain'd Advantage o'er thy Love,
And from its own pure Fountain raise my Glory.

Car.
O can my Death with Shame advance that Glory?
Can I do more than perish, to appease thee?
Can my Misfortunes too have reach'd thy Hate?

Xim.
Can Hate have part in Interviews like this?
Nay, can I give thee greater Proof of Love,
Than that I trust my Vengeance with thy Honour?
Art not thou now within my Power to seize?
Yet I'll release thee, Carlos, on thy Word,
Give me thy Word, that on the morrow Noon,
Before the King in Person thou wilt answer,
And take the Shelter of the Night to leave me.

Car.
O! thou hast found the Way to fix my Ruine!
It must be so, thou shalt have ample Vengeance,
Pursu'd by thee, my Life's not worth the saving;
But then that fatal Honour, my Engagement,
That at the Hour propos'd, I'll meet my Fate—
But must we part, Ximena, like sworn Foes?
Has Love no Sense of all its perish'd Hopes?
Dismiss my Miseries, at least, with Pity:
May I not breathe upon this injur'd Bosom,
One parting Sigh to ease my wounded Soul,
And loose the Anguish of a broken Heart?

Xim.
Support me Heaven—we meet again to Morrow.

Car.
To Morrow, we must meet like Enemies,
Thy piercing Eyes, relentless in Revenge,
And all the Softness of thy Heart forgotten;
This only Moment is our Life of Love.
O take not from this little Interval,
The poor expiring Comfort that is left me.
[Xim. weeps.
My Heart's confounded with thy soft Compassion,
And doats upon the Vertue that destroys me.

Xim.
O! I shall have the Start of thee in Woe;
Thou can'st but fall for her thou lov'st; but what
Must she endure that loves thee—and destroys thee?
Yet, Carlos, take this Comfort in thy Fate,
That if the Hand of Justice shou'd o'ertake thee,
Thy mournful Urn shall hold Ximena's Ashes.

Car.
O Miracle of Love!

Xim.
O mortal Sorrow!
But haste, O leave me while my Heart's resolv'd,
Fly, fly me, Carlos, least thou taint my Fame;
Least in this ebbing Rigour of my Soul
I tell thee, tho' I prosecute thy Fate,
My secret Wish is, that my Cause may fail me.

Car.
O Spirit of Compassion! O Ximena!
What Pangs and Ruine have our Parents cost us?
Farewel, thou Treasure of my Soul, O stay!
Take not at once my short-liv'd Joys away,
While thus I fix me on thy mournful Eyes,
Let my Distresses to Extreams arise,
Thy Victim's now secure; for thus to part,
I sate thy Vengeance with a broken Heart.

[Exeunt,
Enter Alvarez with Noblemen, Officers, and others.
1st. Nob.
These few, my Lord, are on my Part engag'd,
In half an Hour Don Henrique de Las Torres,
With Sixty more, will wait upon your Cause,
Resolv'd, and ready, all like us, to right you:
Since the just Quarrel of your House must live,
Since the brave Blood of Carlos is pursu'd,
The Race of Gormaz shall attend his Ashes.

Alv.
My Lord, this Mark of your exalted Honour
Will bind me ever grateful to your Friendship;
Tho' I still hope the Mercy of the King
Will spare the Criminal, whose Guilt is Honour.
The Service I have done the State has found
A bounteous Master always to reward it;
Nor am I yet so wedded to my Rest,
But that I still can, on Occasion, break it.
The Moors are anchor'd now within the River,
And, as I'm told, near Landing to insult us—
Wherefore I wou'd entreat you at this Time,
To wave my private Danger for the Publick.
Since Chance has form'd us to so brave a Body,
Let us not part inactive in our Honour;
Let's seize this glad Occasion of th'Alarm,
Let's chace these Robbers in our King's Defence,
And bravely merit, not demand his Mercy.

1st. Nob.
Alvarez may command us, who is still
Himself, and owns no Cause unmix'd with Honour.

Alv.
How now! the News.
[Enter a Servant, who whispers Alvarez.
Just enter'd, and alone!
O Heav'n, my Prayers are heard my noble Friends,
Something to our present Purpose has occur'd;
Let me intreat you, forward to the Garden,
Where you will find a treble Number of
Our Forces assembl'd on the like Occasion;
My self will in a Moment bring you News,
That will confirm and animate our Hopes.
[Exeunt Nob.
Enter Carlos.
My Carlos! O do I live once more t'embrace thee,
Prop of my Age, and Guardian of my Fame!
Nor think, my Champion, that my Joy's thus wild,
For that thou only hast reveng'd my Honour,
(Tho' that's a Thought might bless me in the Grave)
No, no, my Son, for thee am I transported;
Alas! I am too sensible what Pains
Thy Heart must feel from Anguish of thy Love;
And had I not new Hopes that will support thee,
Some present Prospect of thy Pain's Relief,
My Sense of thy Afflictions would destroy me.

Car.
What means this kind Compassion of my Griefs?
Is there, on Earth, a Cure for Woes like mine!
O, Sir, you are so tenderly a Father,
So good, I can't repent me of my Duty:
Be not however jealous of my Fame,
If yet I mix your Transports with a Sigh,
For ruin'd Love, and for the lost Ximena:
For since I drag, with my Despair, my Chain,
Her sated Vengeance only can relieve me.

Alv.
No more depress thy Spirit with Despair,
While Glory and thy Country's Cause shou'd wake it;
The Moors not yet expected, are arriv'd,
The Tyde and silent Darkness of the Night
Lands, in an Hour, their Forces at our Gates:
The Court's dismay'd, the People in Alarm,
And loud Confusion fills the frighted Town.
But Fortune e'er this publick Danger reach'd us,
Had rais'd Five Hundred Friends, the Foes of Gormaz,
Whose Swords resolve to vindicate thy Vengeance,
And here without expect thee at their Head.
Forward, my Son, their Numbers soon will swell,
Sustain the Brunt and Fury of the Foe.
And if thy Life's so painful to be born,
Lay it at least with Honour in the Dust,
Cast it not fruitless from thee; let thy King
First know its Value, e'er his Laws demand it;
But Time's too precious to be talk'd away.
Advance my Son, and let thy Master see,
What he has lost in Gormaz, is redeem'd in thee.

Car.