University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Chamber in the Duke of BRAGANZA's Palace.
DUTCHESS
alone.
O thou supreme disposer of the world!
If from my childhood to this awful now,
I've bent with meek submission to thy will,
Send to this feeble bosom one blest beam
Of that bright emanation, which inspires
True confidence in thee, to calm the throbs
That heave this bosom for my husband's safety,
And with immortal spirit to exalt
Above all partial ties our countries love.

To her enter RIBIRO hastily.
RIBIRO.
Where is the Duke? O pardon, gracious madam.

DUTCHESS.
What means this haste and these distracted looks?

RIBIRO.
Detain me not—but lead me to my Lord.—
His life, perhaps—nay, your—

DUTCHESS.
His life—O heavens!
Tell me, Ribiro—speak—

RIBIRO.
Too soon, alas
You'll hear it—Ask not now dear lady
What I've scarce breath to utter—Where's the Duke?

DUTCHESS.
This moment with his confessor retir'd
I left him in his closet.

RIBIRO.
—'Tis no time—
All must give place to this dire urgency.
Even while we speak—A moment's precious now.—
He must be interrupted—Guide me to him.

DUTCHESS.
Suspense is ling'ring death.—Come on, I'll lead you.

[Exeunt.
Ente RAMIREZ.
RAMIREZ.
O welcome interruptions—Pitying Heaven
A while at least arrests the murd'rous deed,
And gives a moment's respite from damnation.
—Is there a hell beyond this war of conscience?
My blood runs backward, and my tottering knees
Refuse to bear their sacrilegious load.
Methought the statues of his ancestors,
As I pass'd by them, shook their marble heads;
His father's picture seem'd to frown in wrath,
And its eye pierce me, while I trembling stood
Assassin like before it—Hush—I'm summon'd.

Re-enter DUTCHESS.
DUTCHESS.
Get you to rest good father—Fare you well.
Some unexpected business of the state
Demands my Lord's attention—For this night
Your holy function must be unperform'd
Till more convenient season.

RAMIREZ.
Holy function!
[aside.
I humbly take my leave, and will not fail
To recommend you in my prayers to Heaven.
[Exit Ramirez

DUTCHESS.
The Heavens I fear are shut and will not hear them.
—Now gush my tears—now break at once my heart!
While in my Juan's presence, I suppress'd
The bursting grief—But here give nature way!
Is there a hope—Oh no—All horrible—
My children too—Their little lives—My husband—
I conquer'd his reluctance—I persuaded
By every power his boundless passion gave me—
I thought it virtue too—Mysterious Heaven?—
Then I, and only I, have work'd his ruin.

Enter DUKE.
DUKE.
Alas my love, why must thy Juan seek thee?
Why do'st thou shun me at this aweful moment?
The few sad hours our destiny permits,
Shou'd sure be spent together.

DUTCHESS.
Must we part then?

DUKE.
I fear we must for ever in this world,
Till that great power who fashion'd us in life,
Unites us once again no more to sever;
In those blest regions of eternal peace,
Where sorrow never enters, where thy truth,
Thy unexampl'd fortitude and sweetness,
Will meet their full reward.

DUTCHESS.
Where is the friend
Who rung our dismal knell?

DUKE.
Good, generous man!
Assur'd of death, yet careless of his life,
And anxious but for us, he is return'd,
To know what our brave leaders will determine—
Yet what can they determine but to die?
Our numbers poorly arm'd, undisciplin'd,
May fight and fall with desperate obstinacy,
For valour can no more—But, oh Louisa!
Friends, country, life itself, all lost seem little;
One sharp devouring grief consumes the rest,
And makes thee all its object.

DUTCHESS.
My dear husband!
These soft endearments, this excess of fondness,
Strike deeper to my soul, than all the pangs
The subtlest vengeance cou'd contrive to wound me.
Oh fly me, hate me, call me murderess;
'Tis I have driven thee to this precipice,
I urge the ruffian hand of law to seize thee,
I drag thee to the block,—I lift the axe,
(Oh agony) Louisa dooms thee dead!

DUKE.
—'Tis anguish insupportable to hear thee
Add self-upbraidings to our misery.
Thou my destroyer! No my best Louisa,
Thou art my guardian angel.—At this hour,
This dreadful hour, 'tis safety to be near thee.
Those dastards who betray'd our brave design,
That baseness which no caution cou'd prevent,
Nor wisdom cou'd foresee, 'twas that undid us.
I will not curse them—Yet I swear by honour,
Thus hunted to the utmost verge of fate,
Without one ray of hope to cheer the danger,
I wou'd not barter this dire certainty,
For that ignoble life those bad men purchase
By perfidy and vileness—

DUTCHESS.
Oh two such—
But indignation wants a tongue to name them.
How was their fury thunder'd on our side!
Their youthful veins full of Patrician blood
Insulted by Velasquez—stript by Spain
Of all the ancient honours of their house;
Sworn at the altar to assert this cause
By holiest adjurations:—Yet these two
To turn apostates—Can this fleeting breath,
This transitory, frail, uncertain being,
Be worth so vast a ransom?

DUKE.
Yes, to cowards,
Such ever be the proselytes of Spain,—
Leave them to scorn.—Fain wou'd I turn my thoughts
From this bad world—shake off the clogs of earth,
And for that great tribunal, arm my soul,
Where Heaven, not Spain, must judge me—but in vain;
My soften'd mind still hangs on those blest days,
Those years of sweet tranquility and peace,
When smiling morn but wak'd us to new joys,
And love at night shed blessings on our pillow.

DUTCHESS.
These hours are fled, and never can return.
'Tis Heaven's high will, and be that will obeyed.
The retrospect of past felicity
Plucks not the barbed arrow from the wound,
But makes it rankle deeper.—Come my Juan,
Here bid adieu to this infectious grief,
Let's knit our constancy to meet the trial;
Shall we be bold in words, mere moral talkers?
Declaim with pedant tongue in virtue's praise,
Yet find no comfort, no support within
From her bright energy?—It comes—it comes,
I feel my breast dilate—The phantom, death,
Shrinks at the radiant vision—bright ey'd hope
Bids us aspire, and points the shining throne.—
—Spain, I defy thee!

DUKE.
O would she hew the elm,
And spare the tender vine—This stubborn trunk
Shou'd brave her fury. Here is royal blood,
And blood long thirsted for.—They cannot dare,
Insatiate as they are, remorseless, savage,
With sacrilegious hands to violate
This beauteous sanctuary.—Let me not think.
Distraction—horror—Oh it splits my brain,
Rends every vital string, and tears my heart.
Mercy can grant no more—nor I petition,
Than to fall dead this instant and forget it.
I look towards Heaven in vain.—Gape wide, O earth,
And bury, bury deep this load of anguish.

DUTCHESS.
Be not so lost.—Hear, Oh hear me Juan,
My lord, my life, my love.—Wilt thou not speak?
He heeds me not.—What shall I say to move him?
For pity's sake look up.—Oh think Braganza,
Cou'd Spain behold thee thus—

DUKE.
Oh no, Louisa,
No eye shall see me melt.—I will be calm,
Still, silent, motionless.—Oh tough, tough heart,
Wou'd I could weep to ease thee—

DUTCHESS.
Here, weep here,
Pour the warm stream into this faithful breast,
Thy sorrows here shall find a kindred source,
Which flows for every tear with drops of blood.
Now summon all thy soul.—Behold, he comes
To thunder our irrevocable doom.

Enter RIBIRO.
RIBIRO
O for an angel's organ to proclaim
Such gratulations as no tongue can speak,
Nor mortal breast conceive—joy, boundless joy.

DUKE.
Am I awake?—Thou can'st not mean to mock me.

RIBIRO.
I shall go wild with transport.—On my knee
I beg you to forgive the cruel shock
This tongue (Heaven knows with what severe reluctance)
So lately gave to all your dearest hopes.

DUKE.
No, let me take that posture: for I swear,
Tho' yet I know not why, my lighten'd heart
Beats freer, and seems eas'd of half its burthen.
—Forgive my strong impatience—quickly tell me.

RIBIRO.
Still ignorant of our intended vengeance,
Velasquez is return'd.—Our gallant friends
Were wrong'd by rash suspicion.—

DUKE.
Heard I right?
Or is't illusion all? (embracing him)
Thus let me thank thee.
Louisa then is safe—Fountain of mercy!
These late despairing arms again enfold her,
My Queen, my love, my wife!—

DUTCHESS.
Flow, flow my tears;
Take, bounteous lord of all, this melting tribute,
My heart can give no more for all thy goodness.

DUKE.
And now disclose this wonder.

RIBIRO.
Thus, my lord,
When at the appointed time, our two brave friends
Were hast'ning to Almada, near the square,
Velasquez and his followers cross'd their steps,
Their course seem'd towards the river;—struck with fear,
And ignorant what cause at that late hour
Cou'd draw him from the palace; straight they chang'd
Their first intent of joining our assembly,
And unobserv'd pursu'd the attending train.
Think what these brave men suffer'd when they saw
The tyrant climb his barge, and push from shore.
Their swords were half unsheath'd, both half resolv'd
To rush at once, and pierce him to the heart.
—But prudence, or our fortune check'd their hands.

DUKE.
It had been certain ruin—but go on—

RIBIRO.
An instant pass'd in thought, they seiz'd a boat,
And following, anxious hung on all his motions:
Mendoza saw them thus—then hurrying back,
Fill'd us with consternation at the tidings.

DUTCHESS.
Nor was it strange—it wore a dreadful aspect;
But fear interprets all things to its danger.

RIBIRO.
He cross'd the river where Jago's fort
Commands the narrowing stream. The governor
Attended at the gate, a while there pass'd
In short but earnest converse, they took leave,
With hasty strides Velasquez reimbark'd;
The vessel, to the shore she left, return'd,
And her proud master sought again the palace.

DUTCHESS.
Cou'd not our valiant friends discover ought
That might reveal his purpose?

RIBIRO.
Madam—No.
To have enquir'd too near were dangerous
Besides, their haste to reassure our hopes
Press'd their return—But thus we may resolve:
He apprehends some danger imminent.
He sees above his head the gathering cloud,
But knows not when 'twill burst in thunder on him.

DUKE.
Thanks, gentle friend—Alas, I tremble still;
As just escap'd from shipwreck, I look round,
And tho' I tread on earth,—firm, solid earth
See with broad eye the threatning surge far off,
Scarce can I credit my conflicting sense
Or trust our preservation—

DUTCHESS.
Thy glad tale
Has rais'd me from the gulph of black despair,
Even to the topmost pinnacle of joy.
Yes, we shall conquer—All these dangers past
Will serve but to enrich the future story.
Our children's children shall recount each fear,
And from the mingled texture of our lives,
Learn to revere that sacred Providence
That guides the strife of virtue.

DUKE.
O Louisa!
I thought I knew the extent of all my fondness,
That long acquaintance with thy wondrous virtue
Had given thee such dominion o'er my soul,
Time cou'd not add to my trascendent passion.
But when the danger came, it wak'd new fires,
Presented thee in softer loveliness,
And twin'd thee closer here.

RIBIRO.
My Lord, ere this
Our friends expect me.—

DUKE.
Let us fly to meet them.
I long to pour into their generous breasts
My cordial greeting.

DUTCHESS.
Go my dearest Juan,
To them and all commend me; such rare zeal
Merits more recompence than our poor thanks
Can at the best requite. For souls like theirs
Ill brook the indignity of foul surmise;
And virtue wrong'd demands a double homage.
[Exit Dutchess.

DUKE.
If the good augury of my breast deceive not,
No more such terrors will appal our souls,
But guilt alone shall tremble—Come, Ribiro.

[Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the Castle of ALMADA.
ALMADA and several conspirators as before, with MELLO and RODERIC.
ALMADA.
Again our hopes revive—The unloaded stem
Shakes the wet tempest from its vigorous head,
And rears the swelling harvest to our sight.

MENDOZA.
After the chillings of this aguish fear,
Methinks I breathe more free—the vital stream
In sprightlier tides flows through its wonted course,
Warms my whole frame and doubly man's my heart.

ALMADA.
And may the generous ardor spread to all—
Observe me friends,—our numbers must divide
Into four equal bands, all to attack
At the bell's signal the four palace gates.
So every passage barr'd, the foe in vain
May strive to unite and overwhelm our force.
Myself with the brave few, who have sworn to follow,
Will rush impetuous on the German guard,
Who at the northern entrance hold their station.
—The fort be Roderic and Mello's care,
With Ferdinand, Henriquez, and Antonio.
—Mendoza, Carlos, and their gallant troop
Must seize the regent Margaret, and secure
The counsellors of Spain as hostages
For the surrender of the citadel.

MENDOZA.
Letters to every province are dispers'd
Importing this great change, and all are ready
To shake to earth the intolerable yoke.
Nay distant India, in her sultry mines
Shall hear the chearful sound of liberty;
Again fair commerce welcom'd to our shore,
Shall loose her swelling canvas to the winds,
And golden Tagus heave once more to meet her.
But see the Duke.—

Enter DUKE.
ALMADA.
Your unexpected presence,
Like a propitious omen cheers the night,
And gives a royal sanction to this meeting.

DUKE.
My wish surpass'd my speed—A call like this
Might imp the tardiness of feeble age.
The general perseverance in our cause
Transcends all gratitude—but these wrong'd virtues—

[To Mello and Roderic.
MELLO.
Pray forbear;
The painful error brought its punishment.
Ribiro bore our duties to your grace.

DUKE.
He did, and soon will join us—On our way
He left me with design once more to view
The posture of the guards,—for still we fear
Some dark impending mischief from Velasquez.

ALMADA.
Whatever fortune waits upon our swords,
Your highness must not share the common hazard;
Lest in the tumult some inglorious chance
Deprive your country of its last best bulwark.

DUKE.
And shou'd I merit to be call'd her bulwark,
Or rank with men like you.—cou'd I submit
To hear, and not partake the glorious danger?

ALMADA.
Pray be advis'd—in this I must command.

DUKE.
Then be it so—but yet shou'd ought betide
To claim the interest of thy prince's arm,
I cannot wrong our friendship to suspect
You will forbear my summons to the field.

ALMADA.
Trust your Almada—Lo! the night wears fast;
Nor are our scatter'd numbers yet return'd.

DUKE.
Welcome Ribiro! What intelligence?

Enter RIBIRO.
RIBIRO.
The worst if we delay—Oh had your eyes
Beheld the sight that blasted mine.

DUKE.
What fight?

RIBIRO.
Lemos is seiz'd this moment—and Pizarro,
The ready tool of fell Velasquez' crimes,
Leads him to prison.

DUKE.
Soon we'll wrench the gates,
And from their gloomy caverns draw to light
All that remains of those unhappy men,
Whom unarraign'd unheard the tyrants nod
Consign'd to horrors nature shakes to think of.

ALMADA.
His triumph will be short—The subtle fiend
May league with hell to thwart us—but in vain;
His fate or ours must quickly be decided.

RIBIRO.
Even now it seems his demon whispers him
His audit is at hand and scares his soul.
Anxious at this late hour, he walks his chamber,
Nor seeks the season's rest—and still more strange
The palace guards stretch'd by their glimmering fires,
Their arms cast by, lye wrapt in thoughtless sleep,

DUKE.
Anon we'll rouse them with so loud a peal,
That death's dull ear shall hear it.

ALMADA.
Corea!
Soon as our work begins, your hardy tribes
Must thro' the streets proclaim Don Juan King.
Press towards the palace; shou'd our friends give ground,
Sustain their fainting strength.

COREA.
We will not fail.

ALMADA.
The general suffrage to thy sword, Ribiro,
Commits our master work; a deed so envied
That ev'ry trenchant steel of Portugal
(Did not thy gallant zeal demand it first)
Would strike to share the glory.

RIBIRO.
(Pointing to his sword.)
This shall thank you,
And if it reek not with his hated blood
Exchange it for a distaff.

ALMADA.
Friends, I mean not
By gloomy presage to allay your ardor.
We must not look to fortune in this cause:
But on ourselves rely for sure success.
The least disorder in our bold approach,
The least repulse may drive our engine back.
One brave man's rashness, or one coward's fear,
Turns all our fairest hopes to shame and ruin.

DUKE.
Now to our stations—Yet ere we depart
This honest pledge, the soldier's short embrace.
The sweet remembrance, if we fall for freedom,
Will more than soften half the pains of dying;
But if we meet, in stronger clasps renew'd,
Will double all the joys of victory.