University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

A Wood.
Enter Durazzo.
DURAZZO.
Methought I heard the voice of Perez call me;
But, 'twas so mingled with remember'd groans,
And now and then the summons of the drum
Beating to arms, I could not follow it.
[Noise without.
What noise was that?

Enter Perez.
PEREZ.
My Lord! my Lord Durazzo!
'Tis Perez calls.

DURAZZO.
Ah! Perez, have I still
A friend in thee?

PEREZ.
My Lord, a faithful servant:
But you are wet and cold.—Where did you sleep
Last dreadful night?

DURAZZO.
In Hell.

PEREZ.
For pity's sake,
Fix not your eyes thus on the vacant air,
Or rather on a point whereto your fancy
Hath led some monstrous image. Look on me;
Nay, on the ground, the herbage, or the trees,
On any living or material thing,
Rather than thus.

DURAZZO.
I see him every where.

PEREZ.
'Tis weakness to be moved in this extreme;
If, as I hold most likely, he provoked
His fate.

DURAZZO.
He did. You know he struck me once—
He struck again. I bade him arm against me;
He arm'd him; but the fury in my soul
Had broken through a guard of Hercules:—
My blow was death:—he fell.

PEREZ.
Then learn to think on't
But as the fatal issue of a quarrel;—
You see it was no more.

DURAZZO.
But then the shame—
The pity too,—but more, the shame,—the shame:
An old man's blood upon a young man's hand!
Zelinda's father's blood upon Durazzo!
Oh! when he dropp'd, his head was white as snow:
Could I have breath'd my own life into him,
He should have lived to see his child again.

PEREZ.
Unhappy lady!

DURAZZO.
What of her?—I charge you—

PEREZ.
The shock bereaved her mind. She went distracted—
Past hope of medicine's healing.

DURAZZO.
Did she then
Suspect my hand?

PEREZ.
A ring you dropp'd betray'd you.

DURAZZO.
That ring she gave me with a smile so sweet,
You 'd think the soul it shone upon could ne'er
Be touch'd with anger more. She gave it me
In love: I dipp'd it in her father's heart,
And sent it back in blood. But, if I live,
For th'ungrateful deed she shall have justice,
That, like the terror of a prodigy,
Shall wake the death within her mind, to look
And tremble at it.

PEREZ.
Oh! my Lord, your speech
Is wild on this afflicting theme. 'Twere best
Consider how to meet the charge, than thus
Unfit yourself.

DURAZZO.
Peace! I fear not the law,
As thieves and plunderers fear it, for its pains—
Its penalties. 'Tis not the body's fall,
Nor the mind's flight; but the dishonour stamp'd
Upon the memory, that shakes my nature.

PEREZ.
Consider, therefore, what had best be done.

DURAZZO.
The noblest course is action. All night long
I heard the martial preparations which
Denote a coming siege. Methought I heard
The death-drum, too, at the first dawn. Was 't fancy?

PEREZ.
'Twas true, my Lord; for Garcia and Anthonio
Were executed then by the King's order.

DURAZZO.
I thought as much. Well; they deserved to die:
Yet, though I was no party to their treasons,
I feel a thrill of sympathy for pride
Sealing its moral thus.—How did they suffer?

PEREZ.
With solemn firmness they shook hands together,
And when upon the block one laid his head,
The other seem'd to smile, and follow'd him.
I saw no tears, but in the crowd.

DURAZZO.
I'm glad on't;
One feels a wish man should, to the last, be man:—
But to our purpose. I was planning how
To join the approaching conflict.

PEREZ.
You! my Lord.

DURAZZO.
Find me some fit disguise. Nay, look not doubting:
The King has been my friend; the people's love
Has follow'd me in days of scorn, and cheer'd
My heart when great ones chill'd it. I would pay
Those favours, both at once; find the disguise.
What tongue can say, but fortune may confer
One boon at parting; some illustrious feat—
Some gallant rescue? Death 's a formal thing
In jails, on scaffolds, or on beds of down;
But in the field—there he throws off his shroud,
And full of mettle as a courser, starts
The comrade, not the tyrant, of the brave!

PEREZ.
You mean to seek for death, not risk it merely?

DURAZZO.
Ay, ay, to knock for entrance at the grave.

PEREZ.
I'll do your bidding straight; and the design,
Though terrible to thought, I grieve to say,
I cannot wish abandon'd. Since we parted,
My tongue, the bearer oft of heavy news,
Has learnt another tale I now may speak of.

DURAZZO.
Now, or at any time. Combine the whole
Into one thunderbolt, and strike it at me,
You'll find me firm.

PEREZ.
Vincenzo—

DURAZZO.
Ha!

PEREZ.
Is living—
Here in Grenada living. His return
Belies the letter that condemn'd Alonzo,
And thus o'erthrows your credit with the King.

DURAZZO.
That I must feel, for that affects my fame.
The herald from the camp deceived us then?

PEREZ.
He was himself deceived, and all. A trance,
The image of the great forgetfulness,
Long held Vincenzo in its cold embrace!
And wounds and gashes, in the fight received,
Gave countenance to the belief of death,
Whose outward shape he wore to all observers.

DURAZZO.
Hath chance a soul, that it should hate me thus?
But 'tis too late to vent complaints. Begone!
I'll wander hereabout 'till you return
With the disguise, and then I've done commanding.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Court.
Enter King, Alonzo, and Nobles.
KING.
Benducar's murder shall be well avenged;
But, good Alonzo, 'tis no time for mourning,
When at our very gates the enemy
Makes bold to knock.

ALONZO.
He shall be answer'd quickly.
My soul, indeed, is sad; yet argue not,
Because my soul is sad, my passion feels
The less disposed to combat. Grief, grown savage
From lack of tears, consorts with slaughter well,
And makes a lion of calamity.

KING.
Are all our faithful citizens in arms
To aid the troops?

LORD.
All, all:—they flock in crowds;
And from the rampart heights, with brandish'd blades,
Beckon the foe in their impatience.
I saw a mother set her child astride
A howitzer; and, when the infant smiled,
Call on the men to smile like him in action.

KING.
Whether by force, or fraud, the wily Moor
Hath overreach'd our army, to arrive
And give us fight beneath our very walls,
Appears not yet from our advices.

Enter an Officer.
KING.
Say,
What news report you now?

OFFICER.
The enemy
Is in the plain, and forming to assail us.

KING.
Ourself will join the fray. To you, Alonzo,
Our young patricians look: the noblest blood
In Spain shall make your charge invincible.

ALONZO.
Now, Lords, prepare! The Moor, the Moor is come
To beard us in our streets: Grenada blushes,
But trembles not. You, the nobility,
Have interest in peril to assert
Your right to honours, by your worth to wear 'em:
Come, fling your coronets into the field,
And win them back again, that none may say
Your titles rusted from inaction.
Zeal you shall have, and numbers at your nod:
The common pride that every burgher feels
Will make him straight a soldier, and our houses
Will pour their populace into the lines,
Until they swell with victory: wherefore, Lords,
For honour's sake, stand out the foremost rank
In deeds and danger, as you are in name.
Haste to your horses: mount—the battle waits;
'Tis tumult, and not war, 'till you are there.

[Exeunt.—Flourish of Trumpets.

SCENE III.

A Field of Battle.—(Drums and Trumpets.)
Enter the Moorish Chief and Troops.
CHIEF.
Welcome, my valiant Moors, to Spain, where dwells
The Christian, but to glut your enmity
And raise your glory. Yonder towers must blaze,
And ruin, through a thousand breaches, find
The entrails of their city. Think upon
Your fathers, by the cruel Spaniard slain,
Your brothers and your friends! Forget not, then,
Your plunder'd towns, your prostrate villages,
Your wasted acres; seasons wither'd by
The breath of war, more than the pestilence.
They persecute your race, profane your God—
And there they are before you. Forward—rush!
'Tis Alla calls,—Alla and victory!

[They charge—Trumpets, Drums, &c.

SCENE IV.

Another part of the Field.—Alarm.
Enter Alonzo and Troops.—Drums, &c.
ALONZO.
We'll ride not till they fly.—Behold, they come!
Engage them foot to foot, and hand to hand;
And, from this day's bold memory, begin
A new account, with glory for yourselves,
And those who follow.—On, my friends, fall on
Let's envy even the dead who are before us
In gracing such a scene of enterprize.

[They charge—Trumpets, &c.
Enter Durazzo and the Moorish Chief fighting.
CHIEF.
Base Spaniard, yield! I am the Moorish Chief.

DURAZZO.
Proud Infidel! your vanity hath lost you.
Were you of lesser note, you might have 'scaped
My scimitar, but death sha'n't miss you now.

CHIEF.
My boast is in my sword.

DURAZZO.
This to confound it.

[They fight; Durazzo kills him.
Enter Perez.
PEREZ.
Well met, my Lord.

DURAZZO.
Ha! Perez, honest heart,
Good morrow, once again! how fares it, boy?
There lies the leader of the enemy.

PEREZ.
Thank Heaven! the honour was reserv'd for you!

DURAZZO.
Yes: I forgive my stars.

PEREZ.
Throughout the field
I'll spread the fame of it, where even already
The praise of your exploits is loudly spoken.

DURAZZO.
What! am I known then?

PEREZ.
When I heard your deeds
In every mouth, I could not keep the secret.

DURAZZO.
Poor fool! and had I not enough of pride,
But you must lend me yours?

PEREZ.
Oh! it rejoiced me:
This day's performance cancels all the past,
And gives you to renown: distinction waits you:
Then live, my Lord; be it your care to live:
I sought you to persuade you.

DURAZZO.
'Tis in vain,
You must work miracles to give this world
A relish.—But away; my limbs are rested:
I would be busy in the fight again.
Farewell, once more!

PEREZ.
My Lord—

DURAZZO.
What would you say?

PEREZ.
It grieves me that I once approved your dying.
Oh! let me now advise—

DURAZZO.
'Tis insolence!

PEREZ.
My Lord, I crave your pardon. May I hope
You scorn me not?

DURAZZO.
No,—not for loving me
More than I do myself. How now, in tears?
I've left you well provided, as you 'll find
When I shall be no more. That 's all the harm
I wish you, Perez.

PEREZ.
Heaven be with you, master!

DURAZZO.
Yet hold: when I am dead, if I should fall
During the day's encounter, bear me to
The convent of Our Lady, where Zelinda
'Bides with the sisterhood.

PEREZ.
Doubt not, my Lord.

DURAZZO.
I cannot doubt. I know you'll do so much
For one you 've followed long and faithfully.

PEREZ.
Your life, I trust, will spare me such a task.

DURAZZO.
If so, 'twill leave a harder task for me.

Enter a Soldier.
SOLDIER.
The King!—the King!—haste—rescue!

DURAZZO.
Out with it,
What of the King?

SOLDIER.
In yonder narrow pass
The foe surround him.
[Exit Soldier.

DURAZZO.
Now for such a deed
As makes it worth a brave man's while to perish.
[Exit Durazzo.

PEREZ.
I'll follow to the last my master's fortunes.
[Exit Perez.

SCENE V.

Another part of the Field.
Enter two Lords Meeting.
FIRST LORD.
How goes the day?

SECOND LORD.
With us such prodigies
Of valour have no living memory,
Nor trace in all our records. Where I stood
A house was set in flames, which the wind blew
Across our ranks, but never stirred a man.
The fight,—the fire,—the hot perplexity
Of murder, staggering in the multitude,
Was scarce a human sight: it look'd a hell,
And the red faces of our citizens
And troops engaged, the furies raving in it.

FIRST LORD.
What of Alonzo?

SECOND LORD.
By his skill and courage,
The right wing of the enemy was turn'd,
And thus ensured the victory. He comes.

Enter Alonzo.—(Trumpets sound for victory.)
ALONZO.
I bring you tidings of the King's escape.
Capture or death awaited him but now,
When a bold band, Durazzo at their head,
(Whose vices left him for a single day)
Brought back a monarch and a conqueror.

FIRST LORD.
The Heavens be praised! and is Durazzo safe?

ALONZO.
It is unknown. The rescue made, he plunged
Amid the thickest fray: all eyes pursued
His plume;—it disappear'd,—'tis thought he fell:
But, where he last was seen, the ground is strew'd
With carcases. He left his fiery mark
Upon the battle, as the bolt of Heaven
Splinters the rock.

SECOND LORD.
He was a gallant man.

ALONZO.
His fortune to the last astonishes.
But haste we to congratulate the King,
And learn what remnant of our gallant friends
This slaughterous hour hath left.

FIRST LORD.
We will attend you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

The inside of a Convent.
Enter Zelinda, Leonora, and Abbess.
LEONORA.
Alas! she wanders still—wide, wide from reason;
When, even the terrors of a day like this
Moved not her fear,—not even her notice.

ABBESS.
Truly
Her heart is overcharged; its vessels fill'd
With misery of its own, can echo to
None other. How she sighs! Oh! speak to her.

LEONORA.
Do you not know me, gentle friend?

ZELINDA.
How should I?
The world was peopled once with friends of mine,
When my dear father lived; but now they say
He's dead, and all my friends have left me too:
Yet you're a gentle lady, on whose face
I look with pleasure, for 'tis sorrowful.

LEONORA.
'Tis sorrowful indeed to see you thus.

ZELINDA.
Well, you may soon be satisfied; for death
May come as soon to me, as to my father.
Oh! can so great a change as death be wrought
In such an instant?—Life will scarce believe it.
Now living, moving, speaking, loving me;
And now insensible as yonder cloud
That makes, not hears, the thunder. Are the drums
To beat no more?

LEONORA.
Peace is restored, thank Heaven!

ZELINDA.
Peace! what is peace? You call the silence, peace,
That trembles after slaughter: nay, you give
The artful trick of nations, who will pause
But to gain strength, and so begin again,
The blessed name of peace! But if within
It dwell not—if its spirit be not here—
You talk a language, wilder than the wind
Conversing with the night, to call it peace,
When 'tis but quiet. Misery is quiet,
And I am quiet. Would I were at peace

LEONORA.
You see she noted the loud uproar too.
Is not this strange?

ABBESS.
'Tis oft with madness thus,
That though, to outward seeming, it observe not
The present thought or action, future chance
Will touch some string, that shews the memory,
In her crazed dwelling, to have treasured it.

Enter a Nun.
NUN.
Oh, Holy Mother, such a sight!

ABBESS.
Say, daughter, what sight?

NUN.
A wounded warrior at the gate,
Faint from the loss of blood, entreats admittance.

ABBESS.
Be he of Spain, such comfort as the place
Affords shall never be denied to him.

NUN.
He is of Spain; and, by his dress and bearing,
Of no inferior note.

ABBESS.
Conduct him hither.

[Exit Nun.
LEONORA.
I can look on the dead, but not the dying,
And this man comes to die.

ABBESS.
He's here already.

Enter Durazzo, wounded and bloody.
LEONORA.
Merciful powers! Durazzo! Come, my friend,
[To Zelinda.
This is no place—this is no sight for you.

DURAZZO.
Force not the beauteous ruin from mine eyes,
For I am come to gaze on it and die.

LEONORA.
Have you not done enough to make her wretched?

DURAZZO.
No; I must search her heart with one pang more,
And then my fate's fulfill'd.

LEONORA.
'Tis monstrous wrong.

DURAZZO.
'Tis justice, and not wrong, that brings me here.
Good mother, pardon me this seeming rudeness;
[To the Abbess.
The battle fever still is in my brain
And shoots my words out angrily; but I
Am grateful. Let me have a moment's speech
With yonder sweet unconscious sufferer,
Then, for my soul, say masses.

ABBESS.
Will you consent?
[To Leonora.
He will not harm her.

DURAZZO.
Harm her! If my heart,
Torn from its living cell, could give her rest
Or respite, you should see it at her feet:—
This hand should shew it you. Harm her!—harm Heaven!
Either were impious and impossible.

ABBESS.
I said you would not.

DURAZZO.
Look at her, Oh! look,
And judge how true you spoke. Is she not lovely,
And innocent, and gentle as the zephyr,
That blows the odour of the blossom round,
But never hurts the bloom? Harm her! my life!
A devil could not harm her.

ZELINDA.
Ha! that voice!
There is but one voice in the world I know,
And that it is I hear. What feeling 's this?
A sudden change, a consciousness I had not,
Breaks on the dark infirmity of mind—
Is madness giving way within me?

LEONORA.
Go:
The terror of your presence—

[To Durazzo.
DURAZZO.
Wakes her reason:
You would not, therefore, have me leave your friend!
She faints— (Zelinda falls into Leonora's arms.)
Now she revives, and the blue orbs
Of meaning, gather up their beams in thought.
She knows me—yes, she knows me! Oh, Zelinda!
I dare not clasp you, but I'll weep with you.

ZELINDA.
Stand off! By what miraculous power you wield
My senses at your will, I know not; but,
As you have power, have saintly pity in
The exercise. Let me be mad again.
Ha! Are you not a murderer?

DURAZZO.
Behold—
I bleed while you reproach.

ZELINDA.
Is't your own blood?
Sweet Leonora, are you with me too?
Oh! pity him. 'Twould be a crime in me.

LEONORA.
Pray you retire.

[To Durazzo.
DURAZZO.
Will she not hear me first?

ZELINDA.
Some other time.

DURAZZO.
I stand upon the verge
Of time, and you must hear me now or never.

ZELINDA.
What would you ask?

DURAZZO.
Forgive—

ZELINDA.
But that I see
The rapid strides of life to get away
From your embrace, I dare not utter pardon;
Yet, as we shall be soon in separate worlds,
Bear my forgiveness with you to the next.

DURAZZO.
Kneeling, I thank you; and thus measuring
The distance which my crimes should set between us,
Even after pardon, I stretch out mine arms
To bless—but not to touch you.

ZELINDA.
Oh! Durazzo,
There was a time—

DURAZZO.
Talk of that time, sweet maid;
Ambition stifled love awhile; but now
Love comes, as if to peep into my grave.
You said there was a time! say on.

ZELINDA.
Forget it,
For then my father lived, and you were guiltless.
You weep!

DURAZZO.
If lions weep, they weep such tears.
There is more anguish in one drop of mine
Than floods that fall from patient gentleness;
For mine are tortured from me: others flow,
But mine are tears that bleed.

ZELINDA.
Dry them, and leave me!

DURAZZO.
Zelinda, we shall never meet again;
'Twere wrong that we should part till all is perfect.

ZELINDA.
What is there more?

DURAZZO.
I will not pain you with
The story of my wrongs, nor strive to palliate
My great offences; what I could I did
This day to make atonement to the state.
But you, whom most I love, I most have injured.
No matter what contemptuous spurns, what taunts,
What provocations, drove me to the deed,
Nor what high domineering of the stars:
'Twas cruelty to you; and, being so,
Shall be revenged.

ZELINDA.
I understand you not;
Your eye is wild with passion.

DURAZZO.
Look on me
For the last time.

ZELINDA.
What mean you?

DURAZZO.
To be just.

ZELINDA.
Be merciful, and leave me.

DURAZZO.
Doubt it not.
My hour is come.—Look on me once—now turn
Thy face away. Farewell, thou last remember'd!
Death makes a sluggish journey in my veins,
But thus I bid him haste.

[Stabs himself.
ZELINDA.
Almighty Heaven!

DURAZZO.
The blood upon this dagger be the seal
Of peace between us.

ZELINDA.
Oh! Durazzo.

DURAZZO.
Speak!
For in such accents angels speak of mercy.

ZELINDA.
I cannot.

DURAZZO.
Then, farewell! The silent look
Shall satisfy,—and now—you are revenged.

[Dies.
ZELINDA.
He's dead! Durazzo's dead! The hand that saved
My life is lifeless; but I'll kiss the clay.
Who's there? my father! interposing—frowning!
I bow me to the interdict, and leave
The body to its last receptacle.

LEONORA.
Haste from this scene, my friend.

ZELINDA.
Oh, Leonora!

[Faints.
Enter King, Perez, Nobles, &c.
PEREZ.
Alas! my fears were true; there lies Durazzo.

KING.
The night upon his brow is that alone
In which his troubled spirit could find rest;
But he shall lie amongst the gallant slain,
And his last deeds shall speak his epitaph.