 | Braganza |  |
1
ACT I.
SCENE I.
A Piazza.RIBIRO meeting a Spanish Officer conducting two Citizens bound. LEMOS and COREA following RIBIRO at a little Distance.
RIBIRO.
Hold, officer—What means this spectacle?
Why lead you thus in fetters thro' the streets
These aged citizens?
OFFICER.
Behold this order.
[shows a paper.
RIBIRO.
I know the character. 'Tis signed Velasquez.
1st CITIZEN.
We have not mines of unexhausted gold
To feed rapacious Spain and stern Velasquez:
And wrung by hard exactions for the state—
OFFICER.
No more—I must not suffer it—
RIBIRO.
(pointing to the prisoners.)
Pray, Sir—
See these white hairs, these shackles—Misery
May sure complain—You are a soldier, Sir,
Your mien bespeaks a brave one—
OFFICER.
I will walk by.
Detain them not too long—'Tis a harsh sentence.
[Officer withdraws a little.
2
O good Ribiro, what have we deserved,
That these rude chains shou'd gall us?
RIBIRO.
What deserved!
1st CITIZEN.
The little all our industry had earn'd,
To smooth the bed of sickness, nurse old age,
And give a decent grave to our cold ashes,
Spain's hungry minions have already seized—
RIBIRO.
I know the rest—Dry up these scalding tears—
The hour of your deliv'rance is at hand:
—An arm more strong than shuts your prison doors,
Shall burst them soon, and give you ample vengeance.
CITIZENS.
May we indeed expect—
RIBIRO.
—Most sure—But hush—
Resume the semblance of this transient shame,
And hide your hope in sadness—Brave Castilian,
Thanks for this courtesy.
[To the Officer, who returns.
CITIZENS.
Lead on—Farewell.
[Exeunt Guard and Citizens.
LEMOS and COREA come forward to RIBIRO.
RIBIRO.
Was that a sight for Lisbon?
LEMOS.
O shame! shame!
What crime cou'd they commit?—Old, helpless, plunder'd—
RIBIRO.
—Even thoughts are crimes in this distemper'd state.
3
To seize it—They (rash men) have dar'd to murmur.
Velasquez here—our scourge—King Philip's idol,
Whom Portugal must bow to—mildly dooms them,
But to perpetual bondage for this treason.
LEMOS.
We must be patient—'Tis a cureless evil.
RIBIRO.
Is patience then the only virtue left us?
Come, come, there is a remedy more manly.
COREA.
Wou'd it were in our reach!
RIBIRO.
Look here, I grasp it.
[Laying his hand on his sword.
What turned to statues!—Hence enfranchisement
If the quick fire that lately warm'd your breasts,
Already wastes to embers.—Am I rash?
We touch'd this theme before—You felt it then.
Wou'd I cou'd put a tongue in every ingot,
That now lies pil'd within your massy stores—
Your gold perhaps might move you—Spain will seize it,
Then bid you mourn the loss in the next dungeon,
Or dig her mines for more—Is't not enough?—
Instruct me, Lemos, you, good Corea, teach me
This meekness so convenient to our foes,
Or pierce this swelling bosom.
LEMOS.
Who can teach it?
'Tis not in art Ribiro—Know us better.
The canker discontent consumes within,
And mocks our smooth exterior.
COREA.
Hear me for both:
For all th'indignant hearts in Portugal—
4
Thus wou'd I strike them at the towers of Spain.
May her swoln pride burst like an empty bubble?
Distraction rend her councils, route and shame
Pursue her flying squadrons—Tempests scatter
And whirlpools swallow up her full man'd navies!
Bold insurrection spread thro' all her states,
Shaking like pent-up winds their loose allegiance!
All Europe arm, and every frowning king,
Point at one foe, and let that foe be Spain!
RIBIRO.
O be that curse prophetic!—Here 'tis dangerous;
Nor will the time allow to tell you all.
But thus far rest assured;—I speak not rashly—
A project is on foot, and now just rip'ning,
Will give our indignation nobler scope,
Than tears or curses (priests and womens weapons.)
All that secures the event of great designs,
Sage heads, firm hearts, and executing arms,
In formidable union league with us,
And chain capricious fortune to our standard.
LEMOS.
Say, can our aid promote this glorious cause?
RIBIRO.
All private virtue is the public fund:
As that abounds, the state decays, or thrives;
Each shou'd contribute to the general stock,
And who lends most, is most his country's friend.
LEMOS.
O wou'd Braganza meet the people's wish!
RIBIRO.
He is not yet resolved,—but may be won—
Cou'd I assure him men like you but wish'd it,
(For well he knows and loves you)—Trust me, Lemos!
It wou'd do more to knit him to this cause,
Than legions of our hot nobility.
5
We love his virtue—will support his rights—
RIBIRO.
Then shew it by your deeds.—Your artizans
Are prompt, bold, hardy, fond of violence.
Alarm their slumb'ring courage, rouse their rage,
Wake their dulled senses to the shame and scorn
That hisses in the ears of willing bondmen;
If they will hazard one bold stroke for freedom,
A leader shall be found, a brave—a just one.
Anon expect me where the ivied arch
Rears the bold image of our late Braganza.
In sullen discontent he seems to frown
As if still hostile to the foes of Lisbon.
There we'll discourse at large—Almada comes—
LEMOS.
Is he a friend?
RIBIRO.
A firm one—No dishonour
E'er bow'd that rev'rend head—That mighty spirit
When first the oppressor, like a flood, o'erwhelm'd us,
Rear'd high his country's standard and defied him.
—He comes to seek me—Lose no time—Remember.
[Exeunt Lemos and Corea.
RIBIRO
alone.
I shou'd detest my zeal, cou'd it be stir'd
Against the wholesome rigour of restraint
Licentiousness made needful—But good Heaven!
Foul murders unprovok'd, delib'rate cruelty—
—The God within us must rise up against it.
Enter ALMADA.
ALMADA.
Well met Ribiro—What new proselytes?
Thy ardor every hour, or finds, or makes them.
6
No—thank the Spaniards for our proselytes—
Scarce half an hour ago, two citizens
(My blood still boils) by fell Velasquez order
Were drag'd to prison—
ALMADA.
Spare my soul, Ribiro,
Superfluous detestation of that villain.
RIBIRO.
Knowing this way they were to pass, I brought
Lemos and Corea (whom last night I sounded)
That their own eyes might see the outrages,
Men of their order must expect to meet
From power that knows no bounds, and owns no law.
ALMADA.
'Twas wisely done; for minds of coarse alloy
But bluntly feel the touch of others wrongs,
Tho' deep they take the impression of their own.
RIBIRO.
By heav'n their fury bore a nobler stamp;
Their honest rage glow'd on their kindling cheeks,
Broke thro' the cold restraints of coward caution,
And swell'd even to an eloquence of anger.
ALMADA.
'Tis well—But are they yet inform'd how near
Th'approaching hour, decisive of our fate,
That gives us death or freedom—that the dawn—
RIBIRO.
Not yet—They still believe the Duke at noon
But visits Lisbon to command the march
Of our new levies, to the Spanish bounds;
Himself to follow streight—Ere then I mean
Again to see them, and still more to whet
The keeness of their hate against our tyrants.
—At least a thousand follow where they lead—
7
Their boldness well directed may do much.
RIBIRO.
That care be mine—I've studied—and I know them;
Inconstant, sanguine, easily inflam'd,
But like the nitrous powder uncompress'd,
Consuming by the blaze nought but itself.
'Tis ours to charge the mine with deadly skill,
And bury usurpation in the ruin.
ALMADA.
I think we cannot fail—Our friends are firm.
Honour will bind the noble—Hope the weak,
And common interest all—The insulting Spaniard
Broods over embryo mischiefs, nor suspects
The wretched worm conceals a mortal sting
To pierce the haughty heel that tramples him.
RIBIRO.
How great will be our triumph, Spain's disgrace,
When ev'ry mischief that perfidious court
Has fram'd against Braganza's precious life,
Recoils on the contriver!
ALMADA.
Urge that home;
Urge how the Duke's affection to his country,
His right unquestionable to her crown,
First mark'd him for the victim of false Spain;
That his commission as high admiral,
His general's staff, and all the lofty pomp
Of his high sounding titles, were but meant
As gilded snares to invite him to his death.
RIBIRO.
These truths, shameful to Philip, must be told;
They will endear Don Juan to the people,
Will keep them waking, restless, and dispos'd
To aid the glorious tumult of to-morrow.
8
My heart expands, and with a prophet's fire
Seizes the bright reversion of our hopes.
I see the genius of our realm restor'd,
And smiling lead him to his rightful throne.
No wild ambition, like a pamper'd steed,
O'erleaps the boundaries of law and reason,
And tramples every seed of social virtue:
But o'er the temp'rate current of his blood
The gentlest passions brush their breezy wings,
To animate, but not disturb the stream.
Such is his temper—The approaching hour
Demands perhaps a sterner.
RIBIRO.
Heaven still kind,
Has in his consort's breast struck deep the root
Of each aspiring virtue.—Bright Louisa,
To all the softness of her tender sex,
Unites the noblest qualities of man;
A genius to embrace the amplest scheme
That ever swell'd the labouring statesman's breast;
Judgment most sound, persuasive eloquence
To charm the froward and convince the wise;
Pure piety without religion's dross,
And fortitude that shrinks at no disaster.
ALMADA.
She is indeed a wonder.—O Ribiro,
That woman was the spring that mov'd us all.
She canvass'd all our strength, urged all our wrongs,
Combin'd our force, and methodized our vengeance.
Taught us that ends which seem impossible
Are lost, or compass'd only by the means;
That fortune is a false divinity,
But folly worships what the wise man makes.
She turn'd our cold dejection to device,
And rous'd despondency to active valour.
My age delights to dwell on her perfections—
9
And I could ever hear them—Virtue's praise
To honest ears is music.—But no more—
A noise comes this way, and that hurrying throng
Proclaims the upstart Minister's approach.
This is the hour with saucy pageantry
Thro' our thin'd streets he takes his wonted round;
Like the dire clapping of the harpy's wing,
To choak the frugal meal with bitter tears,
And scare content from every humble board.
I will avoid him. But I go, proud man,
When next we meet to make my presence dreadful.
[Exit Ribiro.
ALMADA
alone.
Honest Ribiro!—To this hour my soul
Has kept her purpose; my firm foot has ne'er
Swerv'd from its path in Lisbon, nor shall now
Give way to insolence.—Your country's dregs!
[Looking towards the train of Velasquez.
Ye supple sycophants! Ay, cringe and beg
That he will tread upon your prostrate necks,
Or ride you like his mules.—Authority!
Thy worship'd symbols round a villain's trunk
Provoke men's mockery, not their reverence.
OFFICER
entering.
Make way there—room, room for the Minister.
Know you the lord Velasquez comes this way? (To Almada.)
Pray, Sir, give place.
ALMADA.
Officious varlet, off!
Let not thy servile touch pollute my robe.
Can hirelings frown?—
10
VELASQUEZ.
(looking sternly at Almada.)
How! Am I then despised—
A tumult in my presence:—Good, my lord,
It better wou'd become your gravity,
To set the fair example of obedience
To trust and office, than instruct the rabble
In what they are the most prone to, feuds and faction.
ALMADA.
Most reverend admonition! Hold my spleen!
Ye golden coronets and ermin'd robes,
Bend from your stools, behold this wond'rous man,
This Lusitanian censor, this sage Cato,
This consul, with his lictors, rods and axes,
Reprove the boy, Almada, for his lightness!
PIZARRO.
Regard not his wild words, he's old and choleric.
VELASQUEZ.
(To his train.)
Attend me at the citadel—Move on.
[Exeunt attendants.
I know not whether to accuse my fortune,
Or blame my own demerits; brave Almada,
That ever when we meet, thy angry brow
Rebukes me with its frown, or keen reproach
Darts from thy tongue, and checks the forward wish
That fain wou'd court thy friendship and esteem.
ALMADA.
Friendship with thee!—Is it so slight a boon?
If such deserve the name, go seek for friends
Amidst the desp'rate crew whose only bond
Is the black conscience of confederate crimes;
Nor in prepost'rous union think to join
Integrity with guilt, and shame with honour.
Know me for what I am—thy foe profess'd.
11
And tell that seat of pride, thy obdurate he art,
Its last, its only virtue is—remorse.—
[Exit Almada.
Manent VELASQUEZ and PIZARRO.
VELASQUEZ.
Go, hoary fool! preach to the whistling winds,
I scorn thy council, and defy thy hate.
'Tis time enough for lagging penitence,
When age, like thine, has quench'd ambition's flame.
Now nobler thoughts possess my active soul.
This haughty province first shall fell my weight,
And since it scorns my love, thro' fear obey me.
PIZARRO.
Already all the power of Spain is thine,
The Vice Queen, Marg'ret, tho' of Austrian blood,
Discreet, firm, virtuous, complains in vain;
You leave her but a regent's empty title,
While power is only yours:—And happier still,
Braganza summon'd to attend the King,
Will soon cut off his country's only hope,
And leave no rival to obscure thy lustre.
'Bate but the shew and name of royalty,
Thou art already King.
VELASQUEZ.
The shew, the name,
All that gives grace and awe to majesty
Shall soon be mine, Pizarro—Olivarez,
Whose counsels rule the Escurial, to my hand
Has long resign'd the reins of Portugal,
And dreams not (unsuspicious of my faith)
The Delegate, the creature of his breath,
Anon will bid defiance to his power,
And rank himself with monarchs.
PIZARRO.
O take heed,
Consider, Sir, that power still awes the world—
12
My towering fortune rises on a rock,
And firm as Atlas will defy the storm.
The purple cement of a Prince's blood
Shall strengthen its foundation.
PIZARRO.
Ha!
VELASQUEZ.
Braganza's.
—The precious mischief swells my exulting breast,
And soon shall burst its prison.
PIZARRO.
Can it be?
I know thy dauntless temper mocks at fear,
And prudence guides thy daring—But a Prince
Follow'd by faithful guards—encompass'd round
With troops of gallant friends—the people's idol—
VELASQUEZ.
Is mortal, like the meanest of his train,
And dies before to-morrow.—Cease to wonder—
But when this mighty ruin shakes the realm,
Prepare like me, with well-dissembled grief,
To hide our real joy, and blind suspicion.
[Flourish of trumpets.
These trumpets speak his entrance; never more
Such sprightly notes, nor shout of joyful friends,
Pæan or choral song shall usher him;
But sad solemnity of funeral pomp,
Mute sorrow, mournful dirges, ghastly rites,
Marshal'd by death, in comfortless array,
Wait his cold relics to their sepulchre.
End of the First ACT.
| Braganza | |