University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Street.
Alvarez and Bellegarde meeting.
Bellegarde.
Alvarez, why that gloom upon thy brow?

Alvarez.
Thou read'st the inward working of my mind,
Ambition and Revenge strive there for mastery.
This morn I gain'd an audience of the Prince,
And for Elvira's hand I press'd my suit.
Alvarez' blood it seems must not presume
To mix with royalty.

Bellegarde.
I thought as much;
But let not that disturb thee; 'ere the morn
The haughty Regent kneels to thee, Alvarez.
Our troops are with rapidity advancing;
Pass a few hours, they enter at your gates.

Alvarez.
Knows this the Prince?

Bellegarde.
The Regent is inform'd
A messenger arriv'd—I follow'd him,
And enter'd as he left the royal presence:
Well knowing the advantage which attends
On first impressions.

Alvarez.
How was he affected?

Bellegarde.
His soul on fire, and resolutely bent
On emigration. Little did I think
His placid, lamb-like spirit could assume
The lion's port, and be at once the king.
He bade me instantly command their halt;
Or trusting to his own, and British friends,
Who sought his safety, he would straight embark.
I sooth'd him; said Napoleon was his friend,
Who wish'd to snatch him from th' insidious grasp
Of that proud Isle—indignant, he replied
He was no school boy—could distinguish well
The colour of his friends—nor would endure
That other powers should subjugate his will;
And, fraught with insolence, divide his throne.

Alvarez.
Didst thou succeed in calming him, Bellegarde?

Bellegarde.
Soon as I felt his resolution firm,
I chang'd my ground, and wore Submission's face;
Nay more, to lull him into dead security,
At once I penn'd dispatches in his presence,
With peremptory orders for a halt:
This soften'd him.

Alvarez.
Thou dost not mean a halt?

Bellegarde.
No, no Alvarez, think'st thou Bellegarde
Has serv'd the wily Emperor so long
Thus to be dup'd?—Another messenger
Will be dispatch'd to bid them force their march,
And instantly detach some troops of horse
To hold the fort-lin'd Tagus in subjection—
Thus caught, Braganza's sun shall set 'ere night:
But be it still our care it doth not rise
With brighter glory in the western sphere:
His fleet, prepar'd, beneath his treasure groans;
All which is thine, if thou canst yet delay
The purpos'd voyage. For thy counsel's sake
I think he holds thee dear—he knows thee wise
And leans with faith on thee; yet sternly spurns
Thee as an abject slave, too mean to mix
Thy blood with that which flows through royal veins.

Alvarez.
This stings—this rouses my advent'rous soul
To gain revenge and empire at a grasp.
'Tis true he asks my counsel, yet suspects;
And tho' he deems me such a humble worm,
Yet shall he feel that worm conceals a fang.

Bellegarde.
There spoke Alvarez' self, whose soaring mind
Is form'd for empire—give Ambition wing;
But, waste we not our time; each sand is precious:
The Council meets at noon—persuade the Prince
To trust the generous clemency of France;
And may thy golden hopes of future greatness
Give to thy tongue a splendid eloquence.
The navy lost—irreparable the loss!
Fain would Napoleon's hand the trident grasp—
Who holds it, holds the sceptre of the world;
But wanting, feels himself scarce half a king.
Alvarez, clothe thee in a deep disguise;
Nor let them mark in thee the Emp'ror's friend—
Close in thy heart conceal the future storm.

Alvarez.
Discard thy dread—Alvarez boldly dares
The road, the dangerous road that leads to empire.
The smile of Courtesey shall mask my cheek,
While underneath, the mine, destruction fraught,
Sleeps unobserv'd—but much I fear the Prince
Will still adhere him to his firm resolve;
The promis'd aid of Britain spurs him on.

Bellegarde.
Curse on that country—the malignant star
That sheds a pestilence where'er it shines,
And palsies every nerve of enterprise;
Ev'n now her navy, like a murky cloud,
Hangs threat'ning on the zenith of thy hopes;
Yet can it only thunder at a distance,
Nor reach us here—farewell—success attend thee.
The Council ended; let us meet again.

[Exit Alva.
Bellegarde.
Poor, dup'd Alvarez, go, thy hopes enjoy;
Blind to the quicksands which thy foot shall tread:
Fool! dost thou think the giant arm of France
Exerts itself to place thee on a throne,
And by thy side a Princess of the House
Of poor, devoted, weak, proscrib'd Braganza!—
Chains and a dungeon will become thee better.
The Crown, Alvarez, never will be thine:
Were vacant every throne the world displays,
Napoleon would find tenants for them all.
Thus Frenchmen rule by art as well as arms;
And use Ambition, just to edge their tools;
And deem them lumber, when the work is done.

[Exit.