University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A splendid Royal Apartment.
Ximenes,
alone.
The pressure of old age; my mind's exertions;
My many anxious cares for publick weal;
For private glory; and the subtle foe,
The minister of dark assassination,
To the dread confines of the world eternal
At length, have brought me: in the closing act
Of my life's drama, let my deeds be worthy
Of it's most animated scenes. Intent
On contemplation, my expiring lamp
Hath often caught my eye; it vibrated
With active motion, and shot beauteous rays
Of rich, and varied light. What nature's laws
Give to the dying lamp, let me derive
From the full force of that great moral law,
Which ever forms, and guards, and perfects virtue;
Strong, and unconquerable resolution.

SCENE II.

Enters Alonzo.
Alonzo.
My lord, the duke of Alva, with the marquis
Of Aguilar, and of Astorga, mindful,
With due observance, of the hour you fixed,
Are here, and wait your leisure.

Ximenes.
Are my heralds
Without, in proper order, to accost them?

Alonzo.
They are, my lord.

Ximenes.
Then you may bid them enter:
I hope I shall dismiss them better taught,
And humbler than they came.

SCENE III.

Ximenes mounts his Throne; the three Grandees enter, introduced by Alonzo; they seem surprized at Ximenes's situation; bow to him humbly, and in confusion. Alonzo continues on the Stage.
Ximenes.
My lords, you wished
An interview on matter of great import;
Communicate your business freely to me.

Marquis of Aguilar.
'Tis for the ear of Ximenes alone.

Ximenes.
Marquis of Aguilar, I'd rather trust
Alonzo, than the first grandee of Spain;
I've trusted him with more momentous secrets
Than any you can bring me:—stay Alonzo;
You shall not go:—now, gentlemen, proceed.

Duke of Alva.
My lord, ere you usurped a power in Spain,
Never by subject exercised before;
'Tis known to you, to Europe, to the world,
That her grandees were venerated, feared;
The counsellours, the guardians of their king;
Their privileges none presumed to question.
Then we desire to know, by what commission,
By what severe authority, our rights,
From immemorial time, are spurned by you;
How a Franciscan, from his humble cell,
Controuls our nobles, as his caprice dictates;
By what mysterious title he condemns them
To servile chains; to banishment, or death.

Ximenes.
They who are void of true, inherent greatness,
Still spread the glare of artificial plumage.
Sure, a good monk is a far nobler being
Than he who, impudently, pleads his wealth,
His titles, and his virtuous ancestry,
To warrant rapine, murder, and rebellion.

Marquis of Astorga.
My lord, none of these crimes you will impute—

Ximenes.

Duke of Alva.
You say, my lord, that you love clemency;
We meant not to offend our noble regent;
But with humility to plead our cause.

Ximenes.
Be not afraid; I will not, but for justice
Material to the state, even hurt a hair
On any of your heads; for in Heaven's book,
They all are numbered. 'Tis now, yours, Alonzo,
To see that on the terrace, and the platform,
My faithful servants execute my orders.
[Exit Alonzo.
Listen, my lords, a moment;—
[Cannons fire.
Now you hear
Those iron tongues;—do they not speak distinctly?
—Hear them again!—with voice emphatical,
They tell the rude insurgents of these realms,
By what authority I do these things;
How the Franciscan cord, with it's least motion,
Can lead our proud grandees, and make them tremble;
While Ximenes, with these tremendous warrants,
Controuls all Arragon, and both Castiles.
Now duke of Alva, Aguilar, Astorga,
I'll never more with you expostulate.
Farewell, for this time; if you give me cause
Again to punish your disloyalty,
I'll speak to you, in thunder; I'll urge home
The last decisive argument of kings.

[Exit Ximenes: manent, Alva, Aguilar, Astorga.
Alva.
We now may go; I'm glad that our dismission
Was not still more severe:—my lords, I told you,
That to interrogate a Ximenes
On governing with rigour, was to ask
The glorious sun why he sent down on Spain
Rays so direct, and ardent.

Aguilar.
I must own,
Your simile is apt, in various lights,
So splendid, so magnificent, his manner.

Astorga.
Me he hath made a convert to obedience;
Again I feel him like the orb of day;
Though his heat withers me, yet I admire him;
The powerful conquerour charms, while he subdues!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Ximenes, and Alonzo.
Ximenes.
Alonzo, go to Audley, and Randolfo,
The Florentine, and Briton, and acquaint them,
That, for awhile, I wish to have their converse.

Alonzo.
With expedition I'll obey the order.
[Exit. Alonzo.

Ximenes,
alone.
No task more grateful to a generous mind
Than to suppress, and mortify the pride
That flows not from a consciousness of merit,
But from a sense of accidental power
O'er others, and an ardour to pervert it
To our own use; our mean, and selfish nature
Is not deformed with a worse lineament.
To hold a proper language to those rebels,
My poor remains of strength almost exhausted.
I feel that my good acts must now be crouded:
Time presses; and my tide of life is ebbing
Extremely fast; then, let it, like the Nile,
Leave fruitful tracts behind it.

[Alonzo introduces Audley, and Randolfo, and retires.

SCENE V.

Ximenes.
Gentlemen,
Well met; an intercourse with men of learning
Alleviates publick labours:—Audley, you'll find
The clime of Spain oppressive, after England.

Audley.
At first, my lord;—habit will make it easy.
Our nature's flexible; we grow indifferent,
Soon, to all latitudes, if we're inured
To temperance, and to good, and close persuits.

Ximenes.
A certain, and a most momentous truth!
To you, Randolfo, our intenser climate
Is less perceptible; a genial heat
Warms your fair soil, and animates her sons.

Randolfo.
'Tis true, my lord; but I should be ambitious,
To emulate my worthy British friend;
And make all climates subject to the mind.
The human mind, well-disciplined, imparts
Most salutary beams to it's possessour;
Or, in high station, rivalling the sun,
Cheers a large empire with it's rays benign.
The latter truth a Ximenes demonstrates:
While he protects these realms, the arts, and virtue,
From every country, are at home, in Spain.

Ximenes.
Give me thy hand; I like ingenuous praise;—
'Tis not a mark, I hope, that I'm a dotard.
And to reply with eulogy sincere,
I think you both have honoured me extremely,
In quitting your own countries, where, by culture,
The powers of intellect, and sentiment,
Expand, with all their force, to all their action,
For our comparatively barbarous land.
Randolfo, I'm no stranger to the fame
Of your great Medicis; no stranger, Audley,
To the renown of Albion; much I've heard;
Much have I read, of your immortal Alfred.
The recollection of those famous annals,
Warming my heart, will make me garrulous.

Audley.
Praise to our island, given by Ximenes,
Must be harmonious to an English ear.

Ximenes.
By no great state it ever was excelled,
In wisdom, or in valour:—I review,
With martial heat, your Cressy, and Poitiers,
And Azincour; where, at the sweeping storm
Of true old English ardour, your French foes,
In hosts innumerable, turned as pale
As were their faded lilies.—Like old Nestor,
I now must praise myself.—For fifty years,
I've been asserting man's eternal rights,
In this licentious, or despotick land.
Then, for my favourite chapter, in your annals,
Give me your memorable victory,
Of matchless import; without bloodshed gained;
Give me your barons armed in the field,
Not by Bellona, but by sage Minerva,
With calm, yet with determined breast, extorting
Your glorious charter from encroaching kings!
The scene, the subject, warms the patriot band;
And, by degrees, fair freedom's fine contagion
Runs through the ranks: quick grows the pulse of nature;
A lambent fire plays from each kindling eye;—
While old, adjacent, and prophetick Thames,
Sedge-crowned, with his congratulating labour,
Heaves, from his deepest cave, an urn enormous;
Pours it's libation, with a giant-glee,
A pure, vast flood, to future liberty!
Already the triumphant God foresees
The certain homage of each distant clime.
The older Brutus, and the younger Cato,
Incline, attentive, from the sky; more happy
To see their British peers!—My friends, your pardon;
My strain, I fear, grows lavish, grows Ovidian;
But twice, in life, our nature is the boy.

Audley.
Yet, with such puerile thoughts, a Livy wrote;
Tyrtæus sung; the Fabii lived, and died.

Ximenes.
Island of glory! I am loth to quit thee!
Nurse of brave sons, and daughters heavenly-fair!
In late posterity, thou yet art destined
To usher pictures to the sage's eye,
In conflicts for thy freedom, unexampled
In the world's various, and eventful page.
But there's a common fate, my worthy Briton,
[Taking Audley by the hand.
Which all great states have suffered;—luxury,
Sprung from rich commerce, is at war with virtue.
The time may come, when your illustrious country,
Shall lose her worth, and fame; when you, deluded,
Wondering at vanished Sparta, shall behold
The glittering, trivial race of soft Tarentum:
When, with the mouldering form, the empty shell
Of liberty, it's vital pith all gone,
You shall be mocked, and cheated; in your senate,
Gay, venal striplings, will presume to plead,
With warmth, and plausibility, for freedom;
And prate about her, when she lives no more.—
—But let me change this melancholy prospect.
'Twas my intention, when I next should meet you,
To ask of each, a favour of importance.
'Tis promised by some other learned strangers:
Sure, what they granted, you will not refuse me.

Randolfo.
I promise for myself;—I may, for Audley.

Audley.
You may, assuredly; what Ximenes
Desires, by me can never be refused.

Ximenes.
'Tis, that if you survive me, you continue,
For life, with your appointments, to inform
Our Spanish youth, in liberal arts, and science;
The best preservatives from every vice,
Next to religion; and the best incentives
To every virtue: for a legacy,
'Tis, therefore, one of my anxieties,
To leave these moral treasures to my country.

Audley.
To realize thy wish, I will devote
My ardent zeal, and my industrious care,
As I revere the Majesty supreme!
What genius ought not to be proud to second
The plans, the talents of so great a master!

Randolfo.
I, too, invoke the providence of Heaven,
So to befriend me, as I shall apply
My zeal, and my endeavours to fulfill
What Ximenes requests!

Ximenes.
Accept, my friends,
My ardent thanks; you greatly have obliged me.
One favour you've conferred; let me unfold
Two, of a different nature, done to me.
—Three years ago, the moment when I opened
A letter of express from Germany,
I felt it fraught with virulent contents:
A subtle, potent, and a fatal vapour,
Flew to my brain, and, for awhile, dislodged
My reason; often, since, my head is seized
With racking pains, and temporary stupor.—
This to the Austrian cabinet I owe!

Audley.
Oh! ill-requited cares for Austria's empire!

Ximenes.
Nought but the death of merit satiates envy!
Twelve times the moon hath changed, since, on my journey
To the salubrious climate of Aranda,
I dined at Boseguillas; my repast
Was hardly ended, when the dire effects
Of deadly poison tore this aged frame:—
I'm told it came from one I thought my friend:
If it be so, tortures exceeding mine,
Will, ere he dies, requite the barbarous deed.

Randolfo.
Whoe'er he be, he's not the enemy
Of Ximenes alone, but of mankind;
And may his brother-dæmons rack the fiend!

Ximenes.
Let us forgive our enemies; believe me
(Is there aught, now, to tempt me to deceive?)
I long have conquered permanent revenge:
You know, our master for his murderers prayed.
—I've seen, I've known, I've felt this changeful world;
It's many cares; it's toils; it's disappointments;
It's perfidy; it's black ingratitude:
Nought has it worth a wish, excepting virtue;
And that, for justice, must appeal above.
Full fourscore years, and more, have snowed this head;
The mind's exertion, age, assassination,
Have shaken this frail body, to it's vitals:
Therefore, this world, which I've too truly painted,
I leave, without regret; I leave, with pleasure.

Audley.
For me, to wish, to live like Ximenes,
Would argue too presumptuous an ambition;
But let me wish, like Ximenes to die!

Randolfo.
So pray I, for myself, with fervent spirit!

Ximenes.
Too warm is your esteem; the eye of friendship
Still proves, to worth, a magnifying mirrour!
You'll both retire with me; for I must show you
Some sacred volumes of much erudition;
From which, in after times, and in the sphere
Celestial, I foresee my brightest fame.
Be it your care, to give them to the world.
A reverence to each Holy Testament
Should surely dictate, and distinguish mine.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Giraldo,
alone.
I have the strongest proofs that Baracaldo
Poisoned our regent;—nay, of late, the villain
Has looked the murderer; looked, as if he wished
To stab each man that met him, and himself.
In the same chamber, a few nights ago,
Is was my chance, to sleep with Baracaldo;
His perturbation, in his dreams, awaked me.
Look! Ximenes is there! (he cried) how pale,
How wan, and how emaciated! His eyes
Are sunk; yet baleful are their glances, to me!
Take him away, my friends! oh! take him off!
I cannot bear the agonizing sight!
He crushes, racks, annihilates me!
He started, and awoke.—Infernal monster!
A creature, whom the generous cardinal
Took from a low estate; promoted, placed him,
In honourable office, near his person.
Ingratitude is a characteristick
Of man alone; a most ignoble stigma
On the first beings of this nether world!
Am I a dog?—exclaimed the proud Philistine!
A dog is always grateful.—Let me think:—
Our cautious laws ask more than moral proofs;
Mine are not legal; but I will supply
The phlegmatick, and timorous law's defect;
Snatch a bold grace, in conduct; and despising
Local, and uneffective institution,
Assert pure, absolute, eternal justice.
This poniard shall reprove the traitor's heart!
Mine will approve the deed!—And if the heart,
It's hurry o'er, in movement calm, approves
An act that supersedes the voice of nature,
The offender whom we killed, deserved to die.
My love of glory, too, with all it's fire,
Impells me to avenge a Ximenes.
Spain, Europe, and the new-discovered world
Will rank me with their patriots, and their heroes!
—But while I meditate this great atchievement,
I see the Cardinal himself approaching!

[He sheaths the dagger:—enters Ximenes.

SCENE VII.

Ximenes.
How fares Giraldo?—I would speak with you.

Giraldo.
My Lord, I'm ever proud of conversation
With you.

Ximenes.
My life flows fast; my time is short;
Thou wilt not, now, refuse what I shall ask?

Giraldo.
Let Ximenes command; and I'll obey.

Ximenes.
Give me thy solemn word that thou wilt be,
To thy life's end, what thou hast always been,
Brave, honest, generous, temperate in thy pleasures.

Giraldo.
As Heaven omniscient hears our conference,
I'll be, to death, what thou requirest of me.

Ximenes.
Then I am satisfied, concerning thee.—
This is my oral will; and thou wilt find
Giraldo's name distinguished in another.
Farewell, my friend; be Providence thy guide:
Continue virtuous; and continue happy.

Giraldo.
My Lord, farewell. [Exit Ximenes.]
—Thou demigod on earth!
Thy kindness points my sword, and fires my arm!
[Exit Giraldo.

SCENE VIII.

Leonora, and Lucinda.
Leonora.
The gloom, Lucinda, darkens more around me:
Thy consolation, and thy sympathy,
Are losing, now, their charming power to soothe me.

Lucinda.
What new distress, big with uncommon evil,
Alarms a heart, too tremblingly alive?

Leonora.
But now, that wretch, our grand inquisitor,
Whose first delight, is, to torment mankind,
Hath left my father; from those prejudices
Of nation, and religion, which contract
The minds of both; but chiefly, from the stern,
And unrelenting soul of Torquemada,
I must infer the worst calamity.
And should that fiend, with all his life consistent,
Pleading Heaven's warrant, perpetrate some deed,
Destructive of my peace, and of my love,
The prospect of redress from Ximenes,
Is, by a strange fatality, precluded.
That god-like man, who seems to have been born
To punish tyrants, to protect the helpless,
And from the tortured breast to root out pain,
Has, with absurd, with cruel toleration,
Which, to it's cause, acuteness ne'er could trace,
Indulged the frantick zeal of Torquemada,
In barbarous deeds licentious: then, what hope,
What faintest gleam of hope can rise to me?

Lucinda.
My Leonora, with advice elaborate
To pall thy sick, and agitated mind,
Would be imprudent; yet let me intreat thee
To summon to thy aid the powerful comforts
Which innocence affords afflicted minds;
And every Christian's task, with fortitude
To bear the evils of this transient life.

Leonora.
Not yet these awful, salutary objects
Are torne from my distracted memory.
But oh! thou Father of the universe!
[She kneels.
Omniscient Authour of the human frame!
By whom strong hopes, and fears; love, and abhorrence,
Are there infused; the private agonies
For self; the generous pains for others!
If a weak woman hath not force of soul
To rule the feelings of humanity;
To check the impulse of a noble passion;
Wilt thou forgive me! Thou, who must distinguish
Frailty from will perverse! I trust, thou wilt;
Or I shall now incurr divine displeasure!

[She rises.
Lucinda.
I'd sooner die than offer thee vain hope,
The source of future, and severer grief.
But 'tis the genius of imagination,
With it's precursive, and unbounded action,
To magnify all human good, and ill.
Check the wild ranger with the curb of reason;
Use, for thyself, that heaven-descended talent,
Which to another's fate thou would'st apply
With powerful energy. Besides, thy father,
And Torquemada, might confer on business
Not relative to Zaigri, nor to thee.

Leonora.
This boding heart, Lucinda, is pressed down
With a presentiment, which rudely foils
Thy sympathetick aid.—My noble Zaigri,
Had thy great soul been reared in mean estate;
Had I been born in similar condition;
And had not partial, and tyrannick laws,
From simple truth repelled our ancestors,
We had been happy! My plain, honest father,
Untainted with the art, and pomp of life,
Would have acceded, with more ease, to reason,
And owned the universal ties of nature!
Our humble cottage would have, then, escaped
The watchful bigot's dark, and tearless eye!
That faithful cot would have done all it promised;
It would have kindly sheltered peace, and love!
Oh! why, Lucinda, does the gorgeous palace
Mock, and insult us with it's proffered pleasures?

Lucinda.
Would that thy pleasing, and instructive pictures
Owed less their style pathetick to thy sorrows!

Leonora.
Those sorrows grow more pungent by reflexion!
How shall I combat our impending danger!
Shall I implore my father?—Could I soften
His prejudice, and pride, this feeble hand
Might, next, remove an Atlas. Shall I kneel,
A suppliant, at the feet of Ximenes?
As little, even from him, the great, the good,
Can I anticipate our preservation!
He, now, for years, from some mysterious cause,
Or, from supine indulgence, inconsistent
With all his other active, generous life,
Hath borne inquisitorial tyranny.
When the relentless flood sweeps us to ruin,
The slightest shoot of an impending osier
Instinctively we seize.—Shall I, ignobly,
Persuade my gallant Moor to change his faith?
But, then, no longer should I find him Zaigri!
How could I love him, with his glory faded!
'Tis less afflicting to a generous breast,
To have the body in perpetual durance,
Than to enslave the soul!—What horrid scenes
Do I anticipate! I see thee, Zaigri,
Seized by the ministers of Torquemada!
Immured, for life, in a dark, noisome dungeon,
Where courage as determined as thy own,
Must be appalled, and sink! I see thee pining,
And from the loss of glorious light, and freedom,
Suffering a slow, and heart-consuming death!
I see thee, yet more dreadfully, the victim
Of horrid superstition, and revenge.
Imagination puts me on the rack
Inquisitorial!—How it wrings my heart,
And almost fires my brain!—That horrid stake
For him is not intended;—nor that fire;
Not for pure honour; for humanity!
Which ne'er approached distress, but to relieve it;
And when it saw my grief, just as the sun
Beams from a watery cloud, with cheering smile,
Reproved the tear of it's own sympathy!
How shall I calm my mind!—I fear, my reason
Will suffer, in this wreck of happiness!

Lucinda.
May Heaven thy lost tranquillity restore,
Which friendship strives, in vain, to re-establish!

Leonora.
Go with me to the arbour, there support me;
Help me to meet, or to escape these ills!
—What shall I do, my friend, to be at peace!
Advise me, good Lucinda!—Shall I quit
This bustling, noisy, miserable world!
Seek a still convent; kiss the holy veil!
—Oh! ignominious thought!—What, steal to quiet,
While racks, or faggots, are prepared for Zaigri!
—I must atone, by some heroïck deed,
If coward nature but obeys my zeal,
For this high treason to deserted love!
—I'll tell thee what I'll do.—Yes—should my lover
Be sentenced to an agonizing death,
I'll follow him to the last point of fate.
I will attend the heinous execution;
And seize the virtue of an Eastern dame.
When the dire apparatus is compleated;
The last criterion of his dauntless mind;
I, too, like him, will have my pyle funereal,
Which I'll ascend, with Indian majesty:—
They who refuse the pains their lovers feel,
Are strangers to the omnipotence of passion!
I, once, will emulate a Zaigri's courage,
And, once, the rigour of a Torquemada!
I'll prove my constancy, as genuine gold
Is proved, and die, my own inquisitor!

[Exeunt.