 | Lorenzo, A Tragedy In Five Acts |  |
37
ACT III.
SCENE, Hall in the Duke of Alba's Palace.Enter GUSMAN and GASPERO.
GUZMAN.
Did she not murmur, or in aught betray
Reluctance at departure?
GASPERO.
Rather, my Lord!
With eagerness she undertook the journey.
GUZMAN.
There is a scorn and strangeness in her 'haviour,
Which tends, methinks, too deeply to debase me;
I'll not endure it, for it bodes disgrace—
Some sentimental boy, some soft complainer,
With sighs, expressing sensibilities,
Has caught her in the trammels of romance.
Come hither, Gaspero! a word with you.
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I but attend your pleasure.—
GUZMAN.
Let me appoint you steward of the castle
Where Seraphina is dispos'd, there reap
Advantage from the profitable office!
But my first mandate is, that you observe
Her ev'ry action closely, and inform me,
If any desp'rate minion of the moon,
Or whining shepherd, artfully approach
Her sacred haunts of solitude and peace.
GASPERO.
In truth, my Lord! your slightest disposition
Ensures my earnest will, and faithful service.
GUZMAN.
Then, be there no delay, but prove thyself
A swift and excellent Commissioner.
The circumstances will reward attention:
So, with a piercing and considerate eye,
Read all that passes. Should I have a rival!
You wear a sword to vindicate my wrongs!
GASPERO.
Most readily your wish shall be obey'd
[Exit Gaspero.
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The Lady Zoriana's sudden marriage
With this young Count, is prominent of danger,
That should demand reflection—for her wealth,
And courtly influence may generate,
And probably give birth to new ambition;
While I may lose that plenitude of pow'r,
For which I've yet found no competitor.
'Twere well, however, to bestow on him
Such salutation as th' occasion claims,
Since, from the interview, I may discover
His natural propensities, and learn,
Or to despise, or court his future friendship.
[Exit Guzman.
SCENE, Zoriana's Palace.
Enter Lorenzo and Garcias.
LORENZO.
O Garcias! Kindly grant me thy instruction,
How to eradicate from memory,
The worth and loveliness of Seraphina.
But on my heart her semblance is engrav'd,
And there she looks reproach, and with such tears
As might become an angel, faintly bids me
Enjoy the new felicity of marriage.
Alas! I'm sunk e'en to the lowest ebb
Of vile contrition, for these lips which swore
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Have now to Zoriana, at the altar,
But a short moment since, proclaim'd a falsehood.
GARCIAS.
Why should you trouble your offenceless spirit,
By such unprofitable meditation?
The lady you've espous'd is excellent,
Of rarest beauty, of benign discretion,
Of a most princely line, and then she loves you
With the pure worship of a tranced saint;
While Seraphina! whom your soul had cherish'd,
Prov'd false, and careless left you to your fate.
LORENZO.
Perhaps they've done her wrong, have basely sullied
Her purity, by the foul breath of slander.
Would the calm hour were come, when in the tomb,
I might escape this intellectual conflict!
At times I more than doubt Don Fabio's honour!
GARCIAS.
Nor do I think that then your judgment errs.
LORENZO.
There's nothing but disguise, severe injustice,
And strange duplicity upon this earth;
The Ign'rant shew solemnity of wisdom,
The iron-hearted Rich pretend to charity,
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Boast of their mercy, while hard Plunderers,
And infamous Oppressors of the Poor,
Weep at a Sparrow's falling.—
GARCIAS.
Alas! there's verity in these conceptions,
Which seem to overcome you.
LORENZO.
The Seducer,
With mild approaches woos the artless maid,
He lives but to procure her happiness,
His protestations have the force of truth,
And he appears what Woman should adore;
But having triumph'd o'er her innocence,
And robb'd her of tranquillity and fame,
He then can deem humanity deceit;
Can scorn to hide his baseness; can avow
His worst intentions; and, without a blush,
Consign her to the rendings of despair.
GASPERO.
Be more compos'd!
LORENZO.
Do not the mean too often
Rise to distinctions by servility,
Then lord it o'er the virtuous? We should mark
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To judge how he deserves it.
GARCIAS.
Nay, no more!
LORENZO.
Perhaps I've been deluded!
And Seraphina, in her virgin state,
Still mourns for lost Lorenzo; but if so,
Now that this desp'rate marriage has controul'd me,
I do beseech thee Garcias! to have pity,
Let thy benignant sword pierce my scorch'd bosom,
And set my spirit free.
GARCIAS.
O cease these ravings!
LORENZO.
Know you his horrid name who wedded her?
But hold, here's One of dignity approaches—
GARCIAS.
Permit me to retire awhile!
[Exit Garcias.
LORENZO.
Now must I,
By difficult mast'ry of myself, conceal
These pangs, and with the semblance of content.
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GUZMAN.
Suffer the self-presenting Duke of Alba,
To honor Zoriana's chosen Lord,
As a new relative—the happy union,
Communicates to me a proper portion
Of your joint bliss.
LORENZO.
This condescending kindness,
Makes me still more regret that hitherto
I've only known your Grace's excellence
From popular report, and Fame's applause.
GUZMAN.
If in the treasure of this transient life
There may be found one jewel of true value,
It is connubial joy.
LORENZO.
The sentiment
So gladly urg'd, my Lord! denotes conviction.
GUZMAN.
Could the possession of such perfect beauty
As never yet was equall'd, heighten'd by
The most exalted sense, make marriage dear,
I were a husband fortunate indeed—
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I'd fain pay homage to your Lady's merit.
GUZMAN.
But she, I know not why, prefers retirement
Upon the coast, where I've an ancient mansion,
To the luxurious pleasures of Madrid.
In that retreat she now consumes her time,
And finds 'mongst meads and rivulets, more solace
Than splendid Courts could e'er bestow on her;
O! this her disposition troubles me!
LORENZO.
Yet such propensities accompany
Refin'd sensation, and denote more feeling
Than gayer natures prove—
GUZMAN.
Ere you went hence, by martial enterprize
To gain renown, perchance you may have seen
Don Fabio's lovely daughter, Seraphina.
LORENZO.
O spare me, spare me, Heav'n!—suppose I have,
Suppose she is the idol of my soul,
And that I now, and ever shall adore her,
With bigotry of love, what of it, Sir?
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Whoever says that he presumes to love
The wife of Guzman, is a daring boaster,
Or a degraded madman—
LORENZO.
If Seraphina be thy wife, I swear it;
If she were wedded to a God, I'd swear it;
If fifty thousand Guzmans were in arms,
Pointing their dastard swords at my bare breast,
To murder me for utt'rance, yet I'd swear it.
Have you not heard, proud Duke! that I, Lorenzo,
Am her own promised lord, and knew you not
That it was base, and cowardly, and mean,
To wring her cold assent, to be so curs'd
As thou hast made her? for, inhuman spoiler!
Her heart was mine alone.
GUZMAN.
Go to the lady
Who has but just receiv'd thy nuptial vows,
And boast to her, how fond, and how sincere,
Thou art; she cannot fail to sympathize
With the soft sorrow;—'tis enough for me
To have discover'd the long-hidden cause
Of Seraphina's coldness and disdain:
Her vile reluctance on the day of marriage,
Her sequent sighs, and mournings, all are due,
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'Twas then for thee, I find, she pray'd to leave me.
LORENZO.
Did she then wed thee with despair, and pour
Her heavenly tears for me; and does she shun
The halls of pleasure, and the gorgeous throng
Of the Escurial, to bewail my fate
In lonely seats, and melancholy bow'rs;
Blest be the Moon which hears her nightly moan!
And blest the Echo that repeats her grief!
Be sacred ev'ry flow'r whose fresh perfume
Is wafted to her sense!—I'm satisfied!
I ask no more, her soul has still been true.
GUZMAN.
Prepare to do me justice with thy sword!
LORENZO.
Away, away, thou hast already kill'd me;
Like a malevolent and dark assassin,
Planted, unseen, a mortal dagger here.
GUZMAN.
Low subterfuge of terror, poor evasion!
They stain thy manhood.
LORENZO.
Think'st thou, threat'ning Duke!
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Upon thy sword? In truth I mean to die,
But not to swell thy triumph.
GUZMAN.
Wretched man!
I scorn thee.
LORENZO.
Thou hast robb'd me of all hope,
Hast sunk me to extremest misery,
Hast drawn, as 'twere, a mantle o'er the Sun,
To shroud his noontide glories from my sight;
Hast render'd Nature to these eyes a corse
Of desolate appearance; yet thou deem'st
That I should heed an insult, and be rous'd
By what thou call'st thy scorn.
GUZMAN.
Then take my pity,
Since thou can'st own th' extent of injury,
Yet want the spirit to avenge thyself.
LORENZO.
Be this thy answer!
(Draws his sword.
GUZMAN.
It is fairly spoken.
They fight, Lorenzo disarms Guzman.
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There take thy weapon,
(Returns Guzman his sword.
For this roof protects thee.
Yet know, I'll see the Angel, whom thou dar'st
Denominate thy wife, but with such right,
As the vile robber calls the gold his own,
Which he has basely stolen.
GUZMAN.
Thou never shalt!
LORENZO.
Fill ev'ry avenue with armed troops,
Surround her with more dangers than e'er guarded
The prize of Jason, yet will I approach her;
But having once more gaz'd upon her face,
And once more heard her voice, once more embrac'd her
With the chaste sanctity of heavenly love,
Then, Guzman! I'll defy thy utmost malice.
GUZMAN.
There may be rashness in these gallant boastings.
[Exit Guzman.
LORENZO.
He thought I dreaded
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Come, grisly King, accept my fervent vows.
Death! thou'rt to me no tyrant, but a friend!
Enter Fabio.
FABIO.
'Twere well that Zoriana be induced
(Not seeing Lorenzo.
To aid the purpose, and prevent disclosure,
Of my preceding motives.
LORENZO.
Is it thou?
I have a shrew'd suspicion that thy heart
Is black and ranc'rous at the core.
FABIO.
What mean'st thou?
LORENZO.
I do believe thou art a perfect traitor;
And now with reverence I call to mind
My father's admonition, when he said,
“Lorenzo! thro' thy life shun cautiously
All intercourse with Fabio, for I know him,
Unprincipled, remorseless, and a villain.”
FABIO.
Thy father was an abject—
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Peace, traducer!
Lest, losing my respect for those white hairs,
And due regard for Seraphina's parent,
I strike thee to the earth.
FABIO.
This is mere phrenzy,
My Lord! my present business is to serve thee.
LORENZO.
But I will trace thy plottings and deceit;
Will bring thy desperate intrigues to light,
Make thee abhorr'd by such as value virtue,
And hold thee up to scorn and public justice.
FABIO.
Thou art indeed disturb'd—so fare thee well,
Yet thy repentant thanks shall greet me soon.
His indignation is awake—no time
(Aside.
Is to be lost, such insults too, demand
A dire return, and ratify my hatred—
Then what was policy, shall now be vengeance.
Exit Fabio.
LORENZO.
The look was big with menace, and the tongue
Mutter'd internal imprecations—Ha!
What hideous phantom hither comes to shrink me?
'Tis the fell fiend of darkness and dismay.
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Avaunt! nor shake thy scorpion tresses here,
Back to thy dread abode!—thou'st done thy duty,
And I am curs'd enough.
ZORIANA.
My Lord! what bodes
This terrible discourse, this bursting horror?
O tell me of thine anguish, and the cause,
Which fills those eyes with such mysterious meaning;
Changes the crimson lustre of thy cheek,
To livid paleness, and which shakes thy frame
Thus potently, for I have spells of love,
So sweetly salutary, they shall cure
Thy mental malady.
LORENZO.
Seek the dark heath,
Where never herbage sprang, or leaf unfolded;
But baleful meteors glide, and spectres glare:
There conjure up thy magical associates
To weave the web of dissolute controul;
There let the necromantic cauldron boil;
Sorc'ress! I now am far beyond thy pow'r.
ZORIANA.
O exquisite affliction! O Lorenzo!
Have I deserv'd this of you; I, who wept
To think it possible thou might'st be wretched;
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Thy frownings petrify my very soul.
LORENZO.
Attempt to stop the eagle in its course
By words, or bid the wintry tempest sleep;
But never hope to check th' impetuous tide
Of overflowing grief that drowns my bosom.
Thou'st cruelly deceiv'd me, by vile hints
Sullied an angel's whiteness, hast seduc'd me
To thy detested arms by shameless wiles;
Duped me, alas! to be thy husband—wherefore—
I claim my just prerogative to curse thee.
For ever now I quit thy hated presence,
To find my Seraphina, to pour forth
One faithful tear, and perish at her feet.
[Exit Lorenzo.
ZORIANA.
Where am I, whither shall I fly for hope,
Who now shall aid me, when my bosom's Lord
Thus casts me from him? But I will not weep,
Nor rend my hair, nor utter fruitless groans
To the dispersing winds; nor invocate
The hov'ring demons of the night to strike me
With prodigal revenge: I'll make it transport
To suffer nobly, will encounter fate
With a proud eagerness, and lure my solace
From the sublime perfection of despair.
[Exit.
End of the Third Act.
| Lorenzo, A Tragedy In Five Acts | |