University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The Governor's Castle.
Lupercio and Marcella.
Marcella.
Let ardent friendship be the bond between us,
But O subdue this inauspicious love,
And chace it from thy breast!

Lupercio.
Impossible!
Think, cruel monitor, thro' what long years
My heart has cherish'd an encreasing passion,
Till it is grown a portion of my being,
Which I can ne'er relinquish but with life!

Marcella.
I know, that from our days of infancy
Thy vows have had the sanction of my father;
And from the period when he first became
The governor of this fair city, he
Has lean'd towards thee with an anxious hope
To call thee by the tender name of son:
Nor can the world reprove his generous wishes,
For Barcelona's walls contain no youth
Of nobler blood, or higher estimation.

Lupercio.
Lovely encomiast! sure the songs of seraphs,
And all the wondrous harmonies of Heaven,
Can never strike more sweetly on the soul,
Than the frank praise of those angelic lips.

Marcella.
I should despise my own uncandid heart,
If it refus'd that tribute of applause
Which selfish pride, and jealous envy pay
To thy acknowledg'd merit.—Yes! Lupercio,
I own, thy rank, and thy accomplish'd youth,
Might justly challenge a return of fondness
From the most haughty of our flatter'd sex;
Yet trust me, and I speak the words of friendship,
'Twere wiser in thee, even could my tongue
Pronounce the free compliance thou entreatest,
To turn thy partial eyes from cold Marcella,
And for thy wife solicit me no more.

Lupercio.
Mock not my senses with such admonition
As reason must revolt from! Wouldst thou say
To the poor wretch, who after many a step
O'er Afric's burning sands, half dead with drought,
Holds in his parch'd and eager hand at last
The liquid blessing, that he long has pin'd for;
Then wouldst thou say, that wisdom bids him dash
The salutary treasure from his tongue,
And perish by the thirst that wastes his being?
Such, and more cruel is thy counsel now,
That would induce me to renounce thy charms,
E'en in these moments, when thy father's friendship
Had fill'd my soul with panting expectation
To hear thy heavenly voice declare me happy.

Marcella.
I know my father's hopes; and by his worth
I swear, my heart oft wishes for the power
Most fondly to fulfil them.

Lupercio.
Ha! what bar,
What secret bar, from quick-ey'd Love conceal'd,
Has envious fortune rais'd to thwart our union?
You say, that you regard me as your friend;
Then honour me with friendship's dearest claim,
Unbounded confidence!—unfold your heart!—
If, to cut off the promise of my bliss,
If there is aught of unknown fondness there,
Which fears a father's eye, confide in me!
And though against myself—

Marcella.
Ingenuous youth!
Your mind is noble, but you little know
Marcella's heart, above all low disguise,
Proud of its truth, nor patient of controul.

Lupercio.
Pardon the fond surmise of fearful love!
If thy soft breast is free from predilection,
What other bar?—and yet there may be other;
Nature perhaps has curs'd me with defects
Offensive to thy sight; some natural blemish
Of mind, or feature, which thy delicate sense
Tries to endure, but cannot.

Marcella.
No! by Heaven!
Except the noble stranger, whom we saw
At mass this morning, and whose signal graces
Drew from us both observance of his person,
My eyes ne'er gaz'd upon a comelier youth:
And reason tells me, that I ought to love thee:
But my heart shrinks perversely from her voice.
Oft have I try'd to bend my wayward spirit
To crown thy constant vows, and bless my father;
Yet ever as my soul pursues that thought,
A secret tremor in my bosom bids me
Recoil from thy embraces, whispering there,
That I was only born to be thy bane.

Lupercio.
Thou! thou my bane!—Thou art my life's support;
As dear, and as essential to my being,
As the blest radiance of the sun to nature.
These are the airy fears of virgin softness,
Most apt to harbour in the loveliest minds.
Banish the visionary dread, and give
Thy lighten'd heart to all the joys that court thee!
Thy father's prayers, the vows of all our friends
Will shed propitious lustre on our union:
Hymen can never light his genial flame
With happier auspices; but were they dark
And hideous as the sick man's feverish dreams;
Wert thou, instead of noble Garcia's heiress,
The child of want, and penury thy dower,
I still should pant as fondly for thy hand;
Still in thy wondrous charms and lovely virtues
Think all the blessings of the earth compriz'd.

Marcella.
I know thee generous to a fond extreme:
It has subdu'd my waywardness of temper,
And, spite of the reluctance that I feel
To speak the important words, I will be thine.

Lupercio.
Blest be that sound! it is an angel's voice,
Freeing the spirit of a tortur'd martyr,
And opening to his view the heaven he sigh'd for.

Marcella.
And yet I fear—

Lupercio.
Wound not enraptur'd love
With vain distrust! but name the blissful day,
When my fond heart—

Marcella.
I said, I will be thine:
Do not, with cruel importunity,
Now press me farther! As I frankly told thee,
My soul, I know not why, is out of tune;
Give me a little time to regulate
The strange emotion of my mind, and try
To meet thee, as I wish, without these terrors.

Lupercio.
Thou dear directress of my fate! thy will
Shall ever sway the conduct of my life,
Howe'er it thwart me.—Yet, I pray thee, name
Some period, on which hope may dwell, to sooth
The restless interval! or kindly give me
Some pledge of thy dear promise!

Marcella.
Take this ring,
Of curious workmanship, near Tunis found,
And given my father by a noble Moor;
The wife of Asdrubal, you know the figure,
Plunging amidst the flames, in which she perish'd!
Wear this a month, then claim me as your bride!
But if you value me, preserve the jewel;
For if you lose this symbol of my faith,
Your negligence may lead me to retract
A promise, so reluctantly pronounc'd.

Lupercio.
Rest here, thou radiant harbinger of bliss!
Trust me, my love, and by thyself I swear,
That sooner shall my soul and body part,
Than this dear gem be wrested from the finger
Where now it shines.—O let me kiss the hand
Which has enrich'd me with a pledge so precious;
And let my lips thus ratify our compact!

(While he is kissing her hand,
Enter the Governor, Hernandez, and a female Attendant.
Governor.
Why, this is well: I like this pleasing shew
Of mutual tenderness—She has relented,
And will be your's, Lupercio?

Lupercio.
Yes, my father,
I now may call you by that valued title;
My blissful doom has pass'd those lovely lips,
And she is now irrevocably mine.

Governor.
May every blessing my paternal prayers
Can ask of Heaven, descend upon ye both!
Thy free consent delights me; and thou art
My age's comfort.

Marcella.
When I cease to be so,
May life forsake me!—'twill have lost all value.

Governor.
My tender child, I thank thee: but thou lead'st me
Wide of my present aim.—With thee, Lupercio,
I must on business of the state awhile
Hold private converse: I'll release thee soon
To the soft object of thy tend'rer thoughts.
Meantime, my daughter, as the hour of vespers
Now summons you, pray for us, and implore
Your Guardian Saint to make your nuptials happy.
Your servants wait you—Go!—on your return
You'll find us in the castle, and at leisure
To dedicate the hours to love and joy.—
Now mark me, thou brave youth.

(Retires to the farther part of the stage with Lupercio.)
Marcella.
Hernandez, you may rest at home—you know
'Tis not your duty to attend on me,
As I have oft inform'd you.—It is strange
My father suffers his old foolish steward
To pester me with such officious service.

Hernandez.
Dear lady, do not frown—I have no joy
But to gaze on you, wheresoe'er you go,
And follow like your shadow.—Would my shape
Were half so graceful!—then I think your eyes
Could never view me with an angry glance.

Marcella.
Hence, saucy vassal!—Howsoe'er my father
Use thy preposterous passion for his mirth,
It shall not thus insult me.—Hence! I bid thee
For ever shun my presence.

[Drops her glove.
Hernandez
(presenting the glove.)
But kind chance
Is more my friend, and makes me still your servant.

Marcella.
Away! fantastic insolence! be gone!
I will not feed thy vanity, by wearing
Aught which thy touch has sullied. Isabel,
Take it, and draw its fellow from my arm!
Bring other gloves, and follow me to vespers.
[Exeunt Marcella and her Attendant.

Hernandez.
Insulting fair! I yet may find a moment
To triumph o'er thy scorn.

The Governor and Lupercio advance from the end of the stage.
Governor.
How now, Hernandez!
What! has your mistress chid you from her presence?
I am indeed to blame, to treat so long
Your fooleries with levity and laughter.
Henceforth, in this my young and noble friend
You must respect a husband's dignity,
And dare to wound my daughter's ear no more
With sounds of amorous dotage.

Lupercio.
Good Hernandez,
You know the infirmity of Spanish husbands;
And you're so studied in your lady's temper,
I may regard you as a dangerous rival.

Hernandez.
I stand corrected.— (Aside.)
Curse his happy stars!
And curse his proud and thinly-veil'd contempt!
Howe'er deformity may make my figure
The butt of his derision, I've a spirit,
In which this fair-limb'd youth may feel a rival
More dangerous than his vanity believes.

[Exit.
Governor.
That faithful servant is depriv'd of sense
By the absurdest passion that e'er triumph'd
O'er manly reason: he was justly noted
For the best qualities that grace his station,
Intelligence and duty, till my daughter
Advanc'd to womanhood; but from that period,
E'en in proportion as her beauties ripen'd,
His faculties have seem'd upon the wane.
I have too lightly sported with his frenzy,
Which call'd for harsher discipline.

Lupercio.
O! no,
I feel he is entitled to compassion;
Marcella has those fascinating charms,
Which may intoxicate the soberest mind,
Till all its senses reel.—I cannot wonder
Age and deformity forget their nature
By living in her sight, and only feel
That she has beauty which inflames to madness.

Governor.
She may indeed (with pride the father speaks it)
Be number'd with the loveliest of her sex.
With joy, brave youth, but with an anxious joy,
I give her to thy guard.

Lupercio.
Doubt not my love!

Governor.
Trust me, I do not: but anxiety
Is the high tax, which fond affection pays
For all its pleasures; and parental hearts,
As thou may'st prove hereafter, pay it double.
Besides, my daughter, lovely as she is,
Has qualities that claim the nicest care.

Lupercio.
She has a generous pride, which to her soul
Gives awful beauty, and proclaims it free
From all that poor and petty artifice,
Which manly arrogance presumes to think
Inherent in her sex.

Governor.
You know, Lupercio,
She is the only child that ever nature
Enrich'd me with; my tenderness, disdaining
The rigid customs of her sex and country,
Has rear'd her with a freedom little known
To Spanish fair-ones; for I wish'd to make her,
Not the cag'd vassal of parental power,
But truth and nature's chaste and free disciple.
Her early temper join'd with my affection
To fix me in this conduct; for, believe me,
Her mind is like the element of fire;
Treat it with gentle caution, it will shine
The radiant minister of joy and comfort;
But close confinement, or a blind neglect,
May rouse its perilous energies to spread
Unthought-of scenes of misery and terror.

Lupercio.
Trust me, I never will prophane her virtue
With abject jealousy and harsh constraint.

Governor.
On this nice topic, in our hours of leisure,
We'll speak more largely, when your just affection
Will give kind audience to a father's counsel.
Now other cares demand us.—You forget
The business I've entrusted to your guidance,
Which calls for quick dispatch.

Lupercio.
Forgive me, Sir!
May love, that miser, who locks up our thoughts,
Nor lets them circulate, as duty orders,
Plead with me for your pardon!—I am gone.

[Exit.
Governor.
My blessing be thy guard!—Long have I wish'd
To give my daughter to this virtuous youth;
But 'tis the doom of age, in deeds of moment,
To feel the fit of warm desire succeeded
By terror's aguish tremblings. I begin
To fear I've press'd too far her generous mind,
To what her heart recoils from; for she weds
To indulge a father's wishes, not her own.
'Tis true, the tenderest motives have impell'd me
To urge this union, eager to entrust
Her peace and honour to a kind protector:
But anxious love, tho' probity may guide it,
Oft, with a fond precipitancy, foils
Its own dear purpose, and with dizzy rashness
Leaps in the dreaded gulph it strives to shun.—
My child return'd so soon! and with a stranger!
What may this mean?

Enter Marcella and Mendoza.
Mendoza.
It moves, I see, thy wonder,
Thou honour'd veteran, that thus uncheck'd
By ceremony's just observances,
A youth unknown intrudes upon thy presence,
And dares to make this lovely maid his herald.

Governor.
Whoe'er thou art, young Signor, I must own
Thy graceful semblance prompts me to believe
Thou hast no common claim to courtesy.

Mendoza.
'Tis possible thou art not unacquainted
With young Mendoza's name.

Governor.
Who knows it not?
Spain has no martial son, whose generous veins
Hold richer blood; and fame reports Mendoza
A youth, whose opening virtues have reflected
New honour on his noble ancestry.
Our country, with a fond, impatient pride,
Expects him from his travels; but 'tis said
That, grac'd with a discerning monarch's friendship,
He purposes to pass another year
At the Imperial court.

Mendoza.
Such as he is,
Mendoza stands before thee, and thou seest him
An anxious, humble suitor to thy bounty.

Governor.
To me, my Lord!

Mendoza.
To thee, thou happy father!
To thee, thou blest possessor of a treasure,
That turns all other wealth to poverty!
Oft had I heard thy lovely daughter prais'd
As beauty's standard, and no more allowing
A competition with inferior fair-ones,
Than the rich diamond's blaze admits compare
With the dark amethyst, or clouded opal.
It was my wish, in passing thro' your city,
Unknown to gaze upon this beauteous wonder,
As on a prodigy of nature's work,
Supreme in loveliness; which to have seen,
Gives to the eye that saw it a proud sparkle
Of exultation, whensoe'er 'tis nam'd.

Governor.
This lavish praise, my Lord, at once o'erwhelms me
With joy and pain; and both in the extreme.
Pray do not spoil, by thus o'er-rating them,
The simple charms of an unpolish'd girl!

Mendoza.
Your pardon!—'tis not in the power of language
To state their excellence.—At mass this morning
My eager eyes first feasted on their sight:
I thought I ne'er had seen till that blest moment;
For on my ravish'd sense her beauty burst,
Dazzling and dear, as new-imparted light
To one, whose visual organs from his childhood
Had pin'd in moping darkness—from that hour
My heart cries loudly, that the earth contains
No prize worth my contention, but her love.—
Report inform'd me, that her soft affections
Are yet unfix'd; tho' an accomplish'd youth,
Fondly presuming on a father's friendship,
Hopes hourly for the promise of her hand.
Fir'd by these tidings, as again I saw her
Approach the hallow'd precincts of the temple,
I threw me at her feet, conjur'd her pity
To guide me to your presence, and implor'd
The Guardian Saint, whose votary I sued to,
That when we next that sacred pavement trod,
Heaven might exalt me to the blissful honour
To lead her to the altar.

Marcella.
Oft in vain
I pray'd the gallant stranger to forbear
His unavailing suit, nor vex my father
With fruitless importunity.

Mendoza.
To both
I bend for pardon, that my violent love
Dar'd to o'er-rule the mortifying counsel
Of maidenly reserve, and modest fear.
If yet thy heart, that throne of happiness,
Be vacant, I implore thy father's leave
To join the contest for a prize, whose value
Might tempt the monarchs of the world in arms
To hazard each his empire.

Governor.
Noble youth!
Thy generous warmth so wins on my esteem,
I will entrust thy own ingenuous heart
To judge the cause, where e'en thy love's a party.
The hour's not past, in which, with her assent,
I gave my daughter to a valiant friend,
Who long has lov'd her; tho' I frankly own
His birth and fortune make him not thy equal.
Such is my story: now assume my place,
And answer for me! Say! shall I, a soldier,
An old plain soldier, honesty my pride!
Shall I revoke my promise, at the lure
Of interest and ambition?

Mendoza.
Thou hast found
The way to vanquish all Mendoza's ardour:
Thy words benumb my soul; but thou shalt see
My wounded heart has virtue to decide
Against itself. Mendoza's voice shall never
Prompt to the lips of honourable age
The abject sounds of infamy.—Shalt thou
Revoke thy promise! no! thou brave old man,
Not tho' my life should end by its completion!
Let the vain sons of Italy and France
Attempt, by mental alchemy, to turn
The lead of falshood into wisdom's gold,
And sink, their own poor bubbles, in the trial!
It is the glory of a true Castilian
To scorn such arts, and hold his word once given
As sacred as the fiat of a God.

Governor.
There spoke the spirit of Castilian honour.
Brave youth! I yet will love thee as my son,
Tho' fate forbid such union.—Let us hence,
It may amuse thy generous mind to shew thee
The precincts of our castle.

Mendoza.
Well thou warnest
Thy giddy guest to fly a dangerous banquet,
Where his warm soul drinks poison.—Matchless fair-one!
I must perforce from thy enchanting presence
Tear my reluctant heart, while yet I can;
Before the firm resolve of honour melts
In that full blaze of frenzy-kindling beauty.
I go:—Still, ere I quit these walls for ever,
I shall implore one parting interview;
But for a few short moments, but to utter
My ardent vows, that Heaven may make thee happy;
And to entreat, that as the years roll on,
And bring thee, as I hope they will, new blessings,
Thou'lt deign, at least on this revolving day,
To think not harshly of my hapless passion,
And give one sigh of pity to Mendoza.

[Exit, with the Governor.
Marcella.
He's gone, ere my full heart allow'd me power
To frame one grateful accent to the man,
For whom alone my unconstrained lips
Could utter vows of genuine tenderness.
Enchanting youth!—Dost thou implore my pity?
Thou canst not need compassion: love and joy
Will, as thy guardian spirits, hover round thee.
I am the wretch, whose lacerated mind
Cries out for pity, which I do not merit.
Fool that I was! by a reluctant promise
To violate the heart's prerogative!
This injur'd sovereign now awakes to vengeance,
And I deserve these tortures.—O Lupercio!
Thou wert before an object, from whose touch
My conscious frame recoil'd.—What art thou now?
Thy very name is discord in my ear,
That agitates my wounded brain to frenzy.
And shall I wed thee? take thee to my bosom?
An aspic sooner! from whose dearer clasp
My miseries might hope for welcome death!
Yet how escape thee, and maintain at once
My father's honour and my own unshaken?
O for some kind assistant! whose invention
May o'er my darken'd thoughts diffuse one glimpse
Of cheering light!—Here comes a minister
Who wants not will to serve me.

Enter Hernandez.
Hernandez.
Haste, dear lady;
Your father asks a moment's parley with you
In private, and before he walks abroad
To show our ramparts to a noble stranger.

Marcella.
Canst thou, Hernandez, banish from thy memory
All my past anger, and exert thy powers
To gain my favor by one signal service?

Hernandez.
Ask me if I exist; for while I live,
I hold my life devoted to your pleasure.

Marcella.
I'll put thee to the trial, for the task
Allows not e'en a moment of delay.
Know then, I foolishly have given Lupercio
My ring, the pledge of an unguarded promise,
Which my wrong'd heart forbids me to fulfil.
I warn'd him, if he chanc'd to lose the jewel,
Our compact should be void.—If thou'lt devise
Some lucky artifice to lure it from him,
Thou shalt have thrice the value of the gem.

Hernandez.
Wouldst thou elude thy nuptials with Lupercio?
The blest intelligence revives my soul!

Marcella.
He is the hated bar, on whose removal
My heart might enter paradise, and follow
The dear suggestions of unfetter'd love.

Hernandez.
Enough! thou shalt be mistress of thyself.

Marcella.
Make me but that—My father calls—but that,
And I'll reward thee, till thyself shalt own
My gratitude a prodigal in bounty.
Lose not a moment—set me free to-night,
And thro' my every hour of future life
I'll bless thee for the service.

[Exit.
Hernandez.
Then to-night
Shall rid thee of Lupercio.—Thou shalt feel,
Sarcastic boy! I am a dangerous rival.
I know in what lone quarter of the ramparts
Nightly thou walk'st in amorous contemplation,
Murmuring fantastic crotchets to the moon:
There if I miss thee, still the blended fires
Of love and of revenge shall aid my search,
And guide my thirsty poniard to thy heart.