University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE. I.

Marcella
(alone.)
The night is past, but the all-cheering morn
Fails to dispel the darkness of my soul:
My restless heart yet beats with blended throbs:
Of anguish and delight, at the idea
That these fond eyes may, with my father's leave,
Gaze once again upon the dear Mendoza.
O might they in our parting close for ever!—
'Tis strange I yet hear nothing of Hernandez.
But what can he?—I was indeed an idiot
To think his paltry aid could terminate
My miseries; I might as well believe
That the poor current of a scanty brook
Might quench the conflagration of the globe.
O would those final flames, that will consume
This gloomy world, this stage of wretchedness,
Were kindling now! for my deliver'd soul,
Escaping from worse horrors, could rejoice
In that dread scene of fiery desolation,
And think it bliss to perish with Mendoza.

Mendoza
(entering.)
“And think it bliss to perish with Mendoza!”
Extatic sounds! may I believe my sense!
Have I such tender interest in that bosom?

Marcella.
'Tis not well done, my lord, thus at the dawn
To steal upon my privacy, and rob
A wounded spirit of its sole support,
The secrecy of woes beyond a cure.

Mendoza.
Pardon the impatient speed of anxious passion!
I have nor rest, nor joy, but in thy presence,
And hasten'd to thee, in the sad belief,
(A burthen which my heart would now throw off)
That this dear interview must prove the last.

Marcella.
The last indeed it must be!

Mendoza.
If thy voice
Can speak with such sweet kindness of Mendoza,
Thou wilt revoke that sentence; and what power
Shall burst the hallow'd ties of mutual love,
And tear our wedded spirits from each other?

Marcella.
The ruler of thy life, imperious Honour!
Honour, who has already by thy voice
Pronounc'd the firm immutable decree,
That this ill-fated hand must not be thine.

Mendoza.
Urge not against me the confus'd decision
Of ignorance and blind mistaken pride!
When I confirm'd thy father in his purpose,
I knew not, that to keep his fatal word
He must become a tyrant to thy heart,
And violate the dearest rights of nature.
I knew not that Mendoza's ardent love
Had in thy bosom rais'd the blest emotion
Of tender sympathy.

Marcella.
O that my heart
Had not unwarily betray'd its weakness!
Then might a just ingenuous pride have taught me
To bear the painful secret to my grave.

Mendoza.
Unkindly said!—If such could be thy wish,
Thou hast not lov'd Mendoza.

Marcella.
Think so ever!
I have not lov'd him; duty, faith, forbid it:
I am affianc'd to a generous youth,
Who claims the full dominion of my heart;
Nor shall Mendoza's image lurk within it,
To prove the assassin of my peace and honour.

Mendoza.
O lovely haughtiness of mind! this conflict,
This agitation of thy artless bosom,
Proves the enchanting truth, I am belov'd:
I read it in those sweetly-speaking eyes,
Where the faint spark of anger is extinguish'd
In melting tenderness. While thus I clasp thee,
Kind sympathy gives to thy every nerve
Delicious softness; and thy swelling heart
Vibrates in unison with mine, to form
Th'extatic harmony of mutual love.—
Thou weep'st!—O Heaven! I feel these precious drops
Fall on my wounded breast, like liquid fire.
O, I had rather draw upon my head
The worst of human ills, thy hate and scorn!
Rather than touch thee with an ill-starr'd passion,
If it must prove a source of sorrow to thee,
And quench the radiance of thine eyes in tears.

Marcella.
I can believe thee, for thy noble soul
Is honour's sanctuary.—Then, as my friend,
Let me implore the firmness of thy spirit
To aid the treacherous failing of my own!
I am indeed unpractis'd in the arts
My sex is fam'd for; I have not the skill
To hide th'emotions of a feeling heart:
And I will lay it open to thy view.
I will avow, that if my wayward fortune
Had not forbid the union of our hands,
I would have met the ardour of thy vows
With all the frankness of simplicity,
Proud of its pleasing lot. I would have pray'd
For undecaying charms to keep thy love,
Blessing the God who form'd us for each other.
But since the bar—

Mendoza.
There is, there shall be none:
We'll urge thy heart's unalienable right
To be the sole disposer of thy beauty.

Marcella.
O speak not thus!—my own unbalanc'd mind,
Whirl'd in the eddies of tempestuous thought,
Already has been hurried much too far
From the safe course integrity prescribes.
But the remembrance of thy bright example
Shall be my glorious guide, and still preserve me.
How nobly hast thou said, thou wouldst not urge
My honour'd father to revoke his promise,
Not if thy life should end by its completion!
Shalt thou, a stranger! thus against thyself
Stand forth the firm asserter of his honour,
And shall his child betray it?

Mendoza.
Do not wound
Thy own pure spirit by this groundless scruple!

Marcella.
It is conviction, founded on the laws,
Th'unquestionable laws of faith and virtue.
I must for ever fly thee, or disgrace
My father and myself. And shall I heap
Grief, disappointment, misery, and shame
Upon my father's head? And what a father!
Rough as he is in the rude scene of arms,
The sternest soldier of his time, to me
The awful thunder of his voice has soften'd
E'en to the tender sweetness of a lute.
With me he has for ever thrown aside
All the asperities of harsh command,
And disciplin'd my wayward infancy
With all the mildness of a mother's love.

Mendoza.
O might I aid thee in thy dearest office,
To pay him back those long and large arrears
Of tenderness and care!—Yes! we will make it
The incessant study of our days to lighten
Whatever load encroaching age lays on him;
And by the sweet solicitude extend
The limit of his blest and honour'd life.

Marcella.
Could it be such, our lot indeed were happy;
But 'tis impossible. Should I, forgetting
The sanctity of promises, should I
Attempt to burst the fetters that involve me,
And struggle to be your's, it could not be:
Kind as he is, my father's firmer spirit
In points of honour is inflexible!
Could I myself descend—and wounded pride
Revolts at the idea—could I stoop.
To beg, that he would countenance my falshood,
I know his answer.—“Would'st thou,” he would cry,
“Make me an object of the world's contempt?
Shall I be censur'd as a sordid wretch,
Who, having given my daughter to a friend,
Cheated his hopes, and sold her venal beauty
To the rich splendor of Mendoza's fortune?”

Mendoza.
Perish the envious spirits, who could harbour
So base a thought of him who gave thee being!
But should he be reproach'd, (as purest virtue,
And the beneficence of Heaven itself,
'Scapes not such prophanation) it were better,
Than to behold thy peace of mind destroy'd,
And thy soft heart corroded by the shackles,
The galling shackles of a joyless marriage.—
Think what it is to press the nuptial couch,
When, for the roses Love should scatter there,
The fiend Antipathy has form'd its pillow
Of sharpest thorns, that lacerate the brain!

Marcella.
I know it must be agony far worse
Than death's severest pang: the thought already
Has thrown my troubled mind from off its balance,
And plung'd me in distraction.—Thou art cruel,
To set my woes thus forcibly before me,
And aggravate the anguish of my fate.

Mendoza.
Think rather, that with fond anxiety
I warn you of the precipice you tread,
And pant to save you trembling on its brink.

Marcella.
I pray you leave me, for your dangerous aid
Can but encrease the horrors of my fall.
O leave me, I conjure you!

Mendoza.
Once assure me,
You will endeavour to draw back your hand
From this abhorr'd alliance, I will rest
On the faint hope which may arise from thence.

Marcella.
Whatever I can do, and not destroy
My father's peace and honour, shall be done:
For O, 'tis certain, rather than be dragg'd
The victim of Lupercio's nuptial triumph,
My heart would chuse to languish life away
In the lone walls of some sequester'd cell,
Where not one pleasing sound could sooth my suffering,
Save when I clos'd some melancholy prayer
With the dear echo of Mendoza's name.

Mendoza.
Enchanting softness! thou shalt yet be mine,
And these heart-rending sighs shall turn to rapture.

Marcella.
I hear my father's step; depart, I pray thee!

Mendoza.
By Heaven, my feet seem rooted to this spot,
And have not power to bear me from thy presence!

Enter the Governor.
Governor.
Ah, my young friend! youth wants a monitor
To bid it mark the rapid flight of time.
Is this your momentary interview?
Come! force me not to play the testy father,
And chide you from my roof!

Mendoza.
O pardon me,
I will but seal one vow of tender friendship
On this fair hand, and instantly attend you.—
Farewell!—Thou art the loveliest work of Heaven,
And may its purest spirits be thy guard!

[Exit, with the Governor.
Marcella.
Torn from me! banish'd from my view for ever!
O, shall these wretched eyes behold no more
The darling of their sight! and as each morn
Of hated life returns, shall they be forc'd
To gaze upon the object that they loath?
Sure all the subtlest of the infernal fiends
Are leagu'd to curse me with their keenest tortures.
Ah, senseless wretch! my folly is the fiend
From whom this misery springs: 'twas I, 'twas I,
Slave that I was! who fasten'd on myself
This iron bondage that corrodes my soul.

Hernandez
(entering.)
Lament its weight no more! thy chain is broken.
Receive the symbol of thy liberty!

[Delivering the ring.
Marcella.
It is my ring! my gladden'd eyes acknowledge
Its bright assurance of recover'd freedom!—
Fly, stop Mendoza!—Stay! yet tell me first
How thou hast prosper'd, thou excelling servant!—
Thou shalt have great rewards, great as my joy!—
How did the fond Lupercio yield my pledge?
Haste! tell me all—I must prepare myself
To meet him soon, complaining of his loss.

Hernandez.
Be satisfied!—He can no more complain.

Marcella.
What dost thou mean by that mysterious accent?

Hernandez.
His hated voice shall ne'er be heard again.

Marcella.
Thou hast not murder'd him!—By Heaven thou hast;
I read it in thy dark and troubled visage.

Hernandez.
I have indeed been bloody for thy sake.

Marcella.
Is he then butcher'd by thy savage hand?—
Unhappy youth! thy pale and gory spectre
Will glare for ever in my sight, and banish
All hopes of quiet from my soul for ever.—
Wretch! thou hast sunk me in the deepest gulph
Of horror and perdition.

Hernandez.
Come, be chear'd!
I have deliver'd thee from him, whose being
Was torture to thy heart.—Lupercio's dead;
And by my caution it must be suppos'd
The nightly robbers, who infest our city,
Have thus reveng'd his vigilance against them.

Marcella.
Is this the recompence of all thy merit,
Brave, gen'rous, frank Lupercio?—Tho' my heart
Recoil'd perversely from thy love, it feels,
With cold convulsive pangs of vain regret,
It feels thy worth, thy ill-requited virtues,
And all the horrors of thy barb'rous fate.

Hernandez.
Reflect thou only from what hated scenes
Of hopeless pain my daring hand has sav'd thee!
Think what thou ow'st to me, who for thy sake
Have put in hazard my immortal foul!

Marcella.
Ill-fated wretch! thou also hast my pity.
'Twas my base conduct, blinded as I was,
That plung'd thee in this guilt.—But haste! be gone!
Fly! while thou canst, where justice may not find thee.
Fly to some distant climate; and endeavour,
By penitence, to make thy peace with Heaven!
Go where thou wilt, my bounty shall attend thee,
And aid thee with such lavish sums of gold,
As may enable thee, by those good deeds
Which charity delights in, best to cancel
Or counterpoise the evil of thy crime.

Hernandez.
What! canst thou vainly think, that in thy service
I've dy'd my unstain'd hand in guiltless blood
For gold! the needy robber's paltry prey?

Marcella.
What was thy aim?—thy frantic eyes affright me!

Hernandez.
Here is the nobler recompence I claim,
Thy beauty! rich in medicinal balm
To heal th'envenom'd anguish of remorse.
Come to my breast! and with thy melting charms
Drown all the keenest pangs, that guilt can waken,
In extacy more poignant!

Marcella.
Slave! unhand me!—
Away! remember, rash, presumptuous villain!
The distance of thy station!

Hernandez.
Idle pride!
Silence its frivolous and false suggestion!
The hours just past have plac'd us on a level.
Thou hast no title now, but Murderess.
We are confederates in guilt and blood:
Blood is the cement of our equal union.

Marcella.
Thou dar'st not say it.

Hernandez.
Dive into thy bosom!
Ask thy own heart!—Didst thou not wish his death?
Aye! had thy flaming eyes, like basilisks,
Been arm'd with sudden power to strike him dead,
Their stroke had far outstripp'd my tardy dagger.
Thou couldst not think thy lover would resign
The gem, thou bad'st me pilfer, but with life.

Marcella.
No! witness Heaven! I thought not of his death.—
Yet thou hast rent a veil of fatal passion,
That hid my own soul from me; and I see
The stains of misery and guilt are on it.
I am indeed the source, the wretched source
Of all this scene of horror: 'tis to me,
To me, thou ill-starr'd minister of mischief,
Thou ow'st the burden of this bloody deed,
Which cries to angry Heaven for retribution.—
Now, I conjure thee, raise again thy arm!
Plunge thy yet-reeking poniard in my heart,
And by this justice expiate our crimes!

Hernandez.
Away with vain remorse!—Come! let me steep
Thy troubled senses in those soft delights,
That sweetly steal from the enchanted soul
All memory of pain!

Marcella.
Delight from thee!

Hernandez.
I find, contemptuous fair-one! I am not
Thy fav'rite! No! thy nice fastidious eye
Delights in daintier forms. My jealous passion
Has caught thy bosom's secret.—Yet be grateful,
Be wise! and I will make thee soon the bride
Of thy belov'd Mendoza.

Marcella.
Canst thou mean it?

Hernandez.
Yes! with this fine-form'd heir of wealth and grandeur,
Soon shalt thou shine in all that blaze of fortune
Which suits thy towering spirit, if thy beauties
Will pay their debt of gratitude to me,
And with those sweet delights, that stealth makes sweeter,
Reward the secret author of thy greatness.

Marcella.
What! be the wife of Honour's noblest son,
And live the servile strumpet of my vassal!—
Presumptuous villainy!—Unhand me, ruffian!

Hernandez.
Nay! struggle not!—I have thee in my toils,
And my keen love shall feast upon its victim,
O'ertaken with such hazard.—Come! be gentler!

Marcella.
Never! O never!

Hernandez.
Must I owe to force
The joy thy pitying gratitude should give?
The joy for which my ardent soul has thirsted,
E'en to its own perdition?

Marcella.
Hence! away!—
Release my hand, or my distracted cries
Shall bring my injur'd father to my aid.

Hernandez.
And dar'st thou threaten me, ungrateful girl?
But it shall not avail thee.—Hear, and tremble
At the superior threat thou mak'st me utter!—
Thou see'st, by all the bloody business past,
I hold my life as nothing: if thou still
Deny'st me, what I have so dearly purchas'd,
I will, before our magistrates I will
Avow the murder, charge upon thy head
The black design, and add, I have receiv'd
Thy virgin treasure as my settled hire;
But that remorse has drawn the secret from me.—
Now learn to threaten, girl!—Now take thy choice!
Shame! public shame, with tortures and with death,
Or the safe sweets of privacy and joy!

Marcella.
Amazement! thy ferocity in guilt
O'erwhelms my faculties.—Yet hear me, Heaven!
To thee, altho' offended by my falshood,
To thee I kneel: O punish my offences
By any pangs thy justice may ordain,
But save! O save me from this daring wretch!

Hernandez.
Thy prayer's too late, since thou hast render'd me
The wretch I am: thy passions made me guilty,
And thou shalt yield me that reward of guilt
For which I burn in every vein to madness!—
Come, my reluctant fair-one!

Marcella.
No! by Heaven!
Fulfil thy horrid, thy inhuman threats!
Add perjury to murder! and devote me
To infamy and death!—I will embrace them,
Rather than yield to thy abhorr'd suggestion,
And in that fellowship debase my soul.

Hernandez.
Is there such firmness in the heart of woman?
Then artifice assit me! (Aside.)
—Matchless virtue!
E'en in this frenzy of my tortur'd spirit
I feel thy awful power!—Thy purity
Irradiates the dark chaos of my mind,
And all the warring fires of lawless passion
Turn at thy voice to penitential tears!—
I kneel to thee for pardon.

Marcella.
Bend to Heaven!
'Tis Heaven who strikes thee, to reclaim thy soul,
With just compunction.

Hernandez.
Thou benignant angel!
On thee depends my safety or perdition;
Treat me with soothing pity and forgiveness,
And I may yet atone for all my crimes,
The fatal offspring of distracted passion!

Marcella.
Thou hast my pity.

Hernandez.
I will ask no more;
I will not wound thy dignity, by wishing
What madness only led my heart to sigh for.
No! fair Perfection! live thou many years
In the chaste bliss of honourable love!
While I, the victim of a frantic fondness,
In some wild desert hide my loath'd existence,
Mourn my past guilt, and hope the pitying vows
Of innocence like thine, may draw from Heaven
A full, tho' late forgiveness of my crimes.

Marcella.
Unhappy servant! in my prayers for mercy
Thou ne'er shalt be forgotten.

Hernandez.
'Tis my purpose
To fly from hence before to-morrow's dawn:
But wherefore? I nor wish, nor merit life.—
Haste to thy injur'd father! let him know
The wretch he harbours! and for all my guilt
Let public justice make her full atonement!

Marcella.
Poor frantic criminal! yet hope in Heaven!
I, who have blindly led thee into crimes,
Will not accelerate thy punishment.
Seek some religious cell, and meditate
On the infinitude of heavenly mercy!

Hernandez.
I see, I feel it in thy soothing pity!

Marcella.
Here meet me once again, some two hours hence;
I will supply thee with such gold or jewels
As may give comfort to thy lengthen'd days.

Hernandez.
Thou art too good, too tender to a villain,
Who has deserv'd thy hatred and thy scorn.—
Still let me strive to shew I have a heart
That knows to value what it cannot merit.
I will not meet thee. We'll converse no more,
Lest when my flight is known, some dark suspicion
Fall on thy innocence.—At evening's close
Leave thou the gift, thy charity intends,
In the lone tower, that flanks the garden wall.
At midnight I will take thy bounty thence,
And, praying for thy peace, depart for ever.

Marcella.
I thank thy generous caution; nor will fail
To bring thee liberal aid: for still, I trust,
'Tis Heaven's intent, for all thy earlier virtues,
By years of calm sequester'd penitence
To purify thy soul, and seal thy pardon.
Cherish that thought! and Mercy be thy guard!

[Exit.
Hernandez
(alone.)
'Tis well—Proud Beauty! I am now thy master:
Thy haughty spirit, that no threats could tame,
Sinks unsuspecting in the smooth deception
That artifice has spread.—In that lone tower,
Where the coy clamours of a feign'd aversion
Will only prove a prelude to my joy,
I'll lurk to seize thy charms.—Now hasten, Night!
Thy kind companions, Solitude and Darkness,
Shall o'er this froward fair-one aid my triumph,
And sate insulted love with sweet revenge.