 | Braganza |  |
26
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The Apartments of VELASQUEZ, in the Palace of the Vice-Queen.VELASQUEZ, PIZARRO.
PIZARRO.
You seem disturb'd—
VELASQUEZ.
With reason—dull Braganza
Must have been tutor'd—At our interview
I practis'd every supple artifice
That glides into man's bosom—The return
Was blank reserve, ambiguous compliment,
And hatred thinly veil'd by ceremony.
PIZARRO.
Might I presume—
VELASQUEZ.
Pizarro, I am stung—
His father Theodosius, that proud Prince,
Who durst avow his enmity to Philip,
And menac'd thunders at my destin'd head,
With all his empty turbulence of rage
Cou'd never move me like the calm disdain
Of this cold blooded Juan.
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Then, my Lord,
Your purpose holds.
VELASQUEZ.
It does—I will dispatch
This tow'ring Duke, who keeps the cheek of Spain
Pale with perpetual danger.
PIZARRO.
For what end?
Unconscious of his fate, he blindly speeds
To find a grave in Spain—Why then resolve
To spill that blood, which elsewhere will be shed
Without your crime or peril?
VELASQUEZ.
That's the question.
Were I assur'd they meant his death, 'twere needless:
But when they draw him once from Portugal,
Where only he is dangerous, then perhaps
Their fears, or lenity may let him live;
And while he lives, my fiery course is check'd,
My sun climbs slowly, never can ascend
To its meridian brightness.
PIZARRO.
Still; my Lord,
My short lin'd wisdom cannot sound your depth.
VELASQUEZ.
I mean to tell thee all, for thou may'st aid me,
And thy tried faith deserves my confidence.
PIZARRO.
I am your own for ever—Your kind hand,
Bounteous beyond my merit, planted here
Favours innumerable.—
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—Think them little—
An earnest, not the acquittal of my love.
The enormous wealth of Juan's royal house,
His large domains, extended influence,
His numerous vassals so have swell'd his state,
That were his means but push'd to one great end;
How easy might he wrest this realm from Spain,
And brave King Philip's rage?
PIZARRO.
Good careless prince!
Mild and uxorious! No ambitious dream
Disturbs his tranquil slumber—
VELASQUEZ.
Just his nature!
On household wing he flutters round the roof,
That with the princely eagle might have soar'd
And met the dazzling sun. Now by his death
(My engine cannot fail, this night he meets it)
His wealth, his mightiness, his followers
Become Louisa's dower—What think'st thou now?
Cou'd I but win her to accept my hand,
(And much my art will move, and more my power)
Might not our union, like the impetuous course
Of blending torrents, break all feeble mounds
Spain cou'd oppose to bar me from the crown?
That once obtain'd, let Olivarez rail,
Let his inglorious master call me traitor,
I'll scorn their idle fury.
PIZARRO.
Still I fear
Louisa's heart, cold and impenetrable,
To all but Juan's love, will own no second,
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Beyond the sex's softness.
VELASQUEZ.
My hope rests
Even on that favourite passion—Grief at first
Will drive her far from love—A second flame
Perhaps may ne'er rekindle in her heart;
Yet, give her momentary frenzy scope,
It wastes itself; ambition then regains
Its wonted force and winds her to my lure—
But come—I must not lose these precious moments,
The Fates are busy now—What's yet untold,
There place thyself and learn—Take heed you move not.
[Pizarro retires.
Without there! Ho!
Enter an OFFICER.
OFFICER.
What is your lordship's pleasure?
VELASQUEZ.
Attends the monk, Ramirez?
OFFICER.
He does, my lord.
VELASQUEZ.
Conduct him in and leave us.
Enter RAMIREZ.
You are welcome,
Most welcome, reverend father—Pray draw near—
We have a business for your privacy,
Of an especial nature—The circling air
Shou'd not partake it, nor the babbling winds,
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Of that main secret, which thy faithful bosom
Is only fit to treasure.
RAMIREZ.
Good my lord,
I am no common talker.
VELASQUEZ.
Well I know it,
And therefore chose thee from the brotherhood,
Not one of whom but wou'd lay by all thoughts
Of earth and Heaven, and fly to execute
What I, the voice of Spain, commission'd him.
RAMIREZ.
Vouchsafe directly to unfold your will,
My deeds, and not my words, must prove my duty.
VELASQUEZ.
Nay, trust me, cou'd they but divine my purpose,
The holiest he, that wastes the midnight lamp
In prayers and penance, wou'd prevent my tongue
And hear me thank the deed, but not persuade it.
Therefore, good friend, 'tis not necessity,
That sometimes forces any present means,
And chequers chance with wisdom, but free will,
The election of my judgment and my love,
That gives thy aptness this pre-eminence.
RAMIREZ.
The state, I know, has store of instruments,
Like well-rang'd arms in ready order plac'd,
Each for its several use.
VELASQUEZ.
Observe me well;
Think not I mean to snatch a thankless office;
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Commands my friendship, and his own reward.
Say, can you be content in these poor weeds
To know no earthly hopes beyond a cloyster?
But stretch'd on musty matts in noisome caves,
To rouse at midnight bells, and mutter prayers
For souls beyond their reach, to senseless saints?
To wage perpetual war with nature's bounty?
To blacken sick men's chambers, and be number'd
With the loath'd leavings of mortality,
The watch-light, hour-glass, and the nauseous phial?
Are these the ends of life? Was this fine frame,
Nerves exquisitely textur'd, soft desires,
Aspiring thoughts, this comprehensive soul,
With all her train of god-like faculties
Given to be sunk in this vile drudgery?
RAMIREZ.
These are the hard conditions of our state.
We sow our humble seeds with toil on earth,
To reap the harvest of our hopes in Heaven.
VELASQUEZ.
Yet wiser they who trust no future chance,
But make this earth a Heaven. Raise thy eyes
Up to the temporal splendors of our church;
Behold our priors, prelates, cardinals;
Survey their large revenues, princely state,
Their palaces of marble, beds of down,
Their statues, pictures, baths, luxurious tables,
That shame the fabled banquets of the gods.
See how they weary art, and ransack nature
To leave no taste, no wish ungratified.
Now—if thy spirit shrink not—I can raise thee
To all this pomp and greatness.—Pledge thy faith,
Swear thou wil't do this thing—whate'er I urge,
—And Lisbon's envied crozier shall be thine,
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This goodness, so transcending all my hopes,
Confounds my astonish'd sense.—Whate'er it be
Within the compass of man's power to act,
I here devote me to the execution.
VELASQUEZ.
I must not hear of conscience and nice scruples,
Tares that abound in none but meagre soils,
To choak the aspiring seeds of manly daring:
Those puny instincts, which in feeble minds,
Unfit for great exploits, are miscall'd virtue—
RAMIREZ.
Still am I lost in dark uncertainty;
And must for ever wander, till thy breath
Deign to dispel the impenetrable mist,
Fooling my sight that strives in vain to pierce it.
VELASQUEZ.
You are the Duke of Braganza's confessor,
And fame reports him an exact observer
Of all our churches' holy ceremonies.
He still is won't whene'er he visits Lisbon,
Ere grateful slumber seal his pious lids,
With all due reverence, from some priestly hand
To take the mystic symbol of our faith.
RAMIREZ.
It ever was his custom, and this night
I am commanded to attend his leisure
With preparation for the solemn act.
VELASQUEZ.
I know it—Take (given him a box)
thou this—It holds a wafer
Of sovereign virtue to enfranchise souls,
Too righteous for this world, from mortal cares.
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Drawn from the quintessence of noxious plants,
Minerals and poisonous creatures, whose dull bane
Arrests the nimble current of life's tide,
And kills without a pang.
RAMIREZ.
I knew him well,
The Carmelite Castruccio, was it not?
VELASQUEZ.
The same, he first approv'd it on a wretch
Condemn'd for murder to the ling'ring wheel.
This night commit it to Braganza's lips.
Had he a heart of iron, giant strength,
The antidotes of Pontus—All were vain,
To struggle with the venom's potency.
RAMIREZ.
This night, my lord?
VELASQUEZ.
This very night, nay, shrink not,
Unless thou mean'st to take the lead in death,
And pull thy own destruction on thy head.
RAMIREZ.
Give me a moment's pause—A deed like this—
VELASQUEZ.
Should be at once resolv'd and executed.
Think'st thou I am a raw unpractis'd novice,
To make thy breast a partner to the trust,
And not thy hand accomplice of the crime?
Why 'tis the bond for my security:
Look not amaz'd, but mark me heedfully.
Thou hast thy choice—dispatch mine enemy.
The means are in thy hand—be safe and great,
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Which nothing but compliance can avert.
RAMIREZ.
Numbers I know even thus have tasted death,
But sure imagination scarce can form
A way so horrid, impious!
VELASQUEZ.
How's this, How's this!
Hear me, pale miscreant, my rage once rous'd,
That hell thou dread'st this moment shall receive thee.
Look here and tremble—
[Draws a dagger and seizes him.
RAMIREZ.
My lord be not so rash,
Your fury's deaf—Will you not hear me speak?
By ev'ry hope that cheers, all vows that bind,
Whatever horror waits upon the act,
Your will shall make it justice—I'm resolv'd.
VALASQUEZ.
No trifling, Monk—take heed, for should'st thou fail—
RAMIREZ.
Then be my life the forfeit—My obedience
Not only follows from your high command,
But that my bosom swells against this Duke
With the full sense of my own injuries.—
VELASQUEZ.
Enough—I thank thee—Let me know betimes
How we have prosper'd. Hence, retire with caution,
Deserve my favour, and then meet me boldly.
[Exit Ramirez.
'Tis done—His doom is seal'd—Come forth Pizarro.
[Pizzaro comes forward.
Is't not a subtle mischief?
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Past all praise,
The holy tool had qualms.
VELASQUEZ.
(Pointing to his dagger.)
But this dispell'd them,
And fortified the coward by his fears.
His work perform'd, I mean to end him too.—
Say, is my barge prepar'd as I commanded?
PIZARRO.
All is prepar'd, my Lord.
VELASQUEZ.
The friends of Juan,
(I'll tell thee as we pass) they shall not long
Survive to lift their crests so high in Lisbon.
[Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Castle of ALMADA.
Enter ALMADA and an Attendant.
ALMADA.
Good Perez, see that none to night have entrance
But such whose names are written in that roll,
And bid your fellows from the northern tower,
Chuse each a faulchion, and prepare to follow
Where I at dawn will lead.
ATTENDANT.
I will, my Lord.
ALMADA.
Wait near the gate thyself, nor stir from thence
Without my summons.
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Trust my vigilance.
[Exit Attendant.
ALMADA
alone.
Now rayless midnight flings her sable pall
Athwart the horizon, and with pond'rous mace
In dead repose weighs down o'er-labour'd nature,
While we, the busy instruments of fate,
Unmindful of her season, wake like ghosts,
To add new horrors to the shadowy scene.
To him enter several of the Duke of BRAGANZA'S Friends.
ANTONIO.
Health to Almada.
ALMADA.
Thus to meet, Antonio!
Is the best health, the soundness of the mind.
Better at this dark hour to embrace in arms
Thus girt for manly execution, friend!
Than in the mazes of the wanton dance,
Or revelling o'er bowls in frantic mirth,
To keep inglorious vigils.
ANTONIO.
True, my Lord.
Enter RIBIRO with LEMOS and COREA.
ALMADA.
(to Ribiro.)
O soul of honour, ever, ever constant.
These are the worthy citizens, our friends—
RIBIRO.
(Presenting Lemos and Corea.)
And such as laurell'd Rome might well have own'd
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When reverence bow'd to virtue tho' untitled.
ALMADA.
As such I take their hands, nay more as such,
Their grateful country will rejoice to own them.
Are we all met?
ANTONIO.
Mendoza is not here,
Nor Roderic, and Mello too is absent.
ALMADA.
They were not wont to be thus waited for.
RIBIRO.
Anon they will be here,—mean time proceed,
They know their place already—
ALMADA.
Why we meet,
Is not to canvass our opprobrious wrongs,
But to redress them.—Yet as trumpets sound,
To rouse the soldier's ardor,—so the breath
Of our calamities will wake our fires,
And fan them to spread wide the flame of vengeance.
'Tis not my gift to play the orator,
But in plain words to lay our state before you.
—Our tyrant's grandsire, whose ambition claim'd,
And first usurp'd Braganza's royal rights,
My blood establish'd his detested sway.
Old Tagus blush'd with many a crimson tide,
Sluic'd from the noblest veins of Portugal.
The exterminating sword knew no distinction.
Princes, and prelates, venerable age,
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'Till cloy'd and sick of slaughter, the tir'd soldier
With grim content flung down his reeking steel,
And glutted rage gave truce to massacre.
RIBIRO.
Nor pass'd the iron rod to milder hands
Thro' two succeeding reigns—With cruel zeal
The barbarous offspring emulate their fire,
And track his bloody footsteps in our ruin.
ALMADA.
Now mark how happily the time conspires,
To give our great atchievement permanence;
—Spain is not what she was, when Europe bow'd
To the fifth Charles, and his degenerate son.
When, like a torrent swell'd by mountain floods,
She swept the neighbouring nations with her arms,
And threaten'd those remote,—contracted now
Within an humble bed, the thrifty urn,
Of her exhausted greatness, scarce can pour
A lazy tide thro' her own mould'ring states.
RIBIRO.
Yes the Colossus totters, every blast
Shakes the stupendous mass and threats its downfall.
Enter MENDOZA.
MENDOZA.
Break off—break off—the fatal snare is spread,
And death's pale hand assists to close the toil.
ALMADA.
Whence this dread greeting?—Ha—thy alter'd cheek
Wears not the ensign of this glowing hour.
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The scream of night owls, or the ravens croak
Wou'd better suit the baleful news I bring,
Than the known accents of a friendly voice.
—We are undone—betray'd—
ALMADA.
Say'st thou—betray'd?
MENDOZA.
Our tower is sap'd—the high rais'd fabric falls
To crush us with the ruin—What avails
The full maturity of all our hopes?
This glorious league—the justice of our cause?—
—High Heaven might idly thunder on our side,
If traitors to ourselves.—
ALMADA.
Ourselves—Oh shame!
I'll not believe it—What perfidious slaves—
MENDOZA.
Two whom we thought the sinews of our strength,
Don Roderic and Mello.—
RIBIRO.
Lightnings blast them!
May infamy record their dastard names,
And vulgar villains shun their fellowship—
These hot, loud brawlers—
MENDOZA.
Are the slaves of Spain,
And bargain for the price of perfidy.—
On to the wharf with quick impatient step,
I saw Velasquez press, and in his train
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The ebbing Tagus in the tyrant's barge,
And hasten to the fort.—The troops of Spain,
Even while we speak, are summon'd to the charge,
And mark us for their prey.
ALMADA.
Nay then, 'tis past.
Malignant fortune, when the cup was rais'd
Close to our lips, has dash'd it to the ground.
RIBIRO.
This unexpected bolt strikes flat our hopes,
And leaves one dreary desolation round us.
I see their hangmen muster—wolf-ey'd cruelty,
Grimly sedate, glares o'er her iron hoard
Of racks, wheels, engines, feels her axe's edge
Licks her fell jaws, and with a monster's thirst,
Already drinks our blood.
MENDOZA.
There's not a pang
That rends the fibres of man's feeling frame,
No vile disgrace, that even in thought o'er-spreads
The cheek with burning crimson, but her hate
Ingenious to devise, and sure to inflict
In keenest agony will make us suffer.
ALMADA.
Wou'd that were all—Our dismal scene must close;
Nature o'er power'd at length will leave her load,
And baffle persecution.—But O, Portugal!
Alass unhappy country! Where's the bourn
Can mark the extent of thy calamities.
Like winter's icy hand our luckless end
Will freeze the source of future enterprize:
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Erect and bold will stalk with tenfold ravage.
There, there alone, this breast is vulnerable;
These are the wheels that wrench, the racks that tear me.
ANTONIO.
But are there left no means to elude the danger?
Why do we linger here?—Why not resolve
To save ourselves by flight?
MENDOZA.
Impossible!
The guards no doubt are set—the port is bar'd.
ALMADA.
Fly Lemos to the people, and restrain
Their generous ardor.—It wou'd now break forth
Useless to us, and fatal to themselves.
[Exit Lemos.
You to the Duke, Ribiro!—In our names,
(Perhaps our last request) by our lost fortunes,
By all our former friendship, O conjure him
To save our richest treasure from the wreck,
Nor hazard in a desperate enterprize
His country's last best hope, his valued life.
RIBIRO.
Support him Heaven, and arm his piety
To bear this sad vicissitude with patience.
[Exit Ribiro.
ALMADA.
And yet we will not meet in vain, brave friends;
We came with better hopes, resolv'd like men
To struggle for our freedom.—What remains?
A greater power than mortals can arraign,
Has otherwise decreed it.—Speak, my brothers,
Now doubly dear in stern adversity;
Say, shall we glut the spoiler with our blood,
Submit to the vile insults of their law,
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Given to the winds—Is this the doom that waits us?
MENDOZA.
Alas what better doom? To ask for mercy
Were ignominious, to expect it bootless.
ALMADA.
To ask for mercy—cou'd Spain stretch my life
To years beyond the telling, for one tear,
One word, in sign of sorrow, I'd disdain it.
Death still is in our pow'r—and we'll die nobly,
As soldiers shou'd do, red with well earn'd wounds,
And stretch'd on heaps of slaughter'd enemies.
[Exeunt severally.
End of the Third ACT.
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