University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

The court at Zamora, a grand hall of audience. Nobles, prelates, officers, &c. discovered in waiting; a flourish of trumpets. Enter the King and his train, who walks slowly, as he receives their homage, to a chair of state near the front of the stage.
1 noble
(presenting a petition).
May't please your highness, look on this petition,
Humbly presented to your royal notice
By one of noble blood.

King.
And noble conduct, too, I hope, Don Pedro.
What is its plea?
[After reading the paper slightly.
That he beneath a lady's window hath
A most audacious suitor slain, who there
Did charm her ear with love-sick ditties.—Slew him!
A harsh device to win the lady's favour;
Had she not ears to be again enthrall'd?
Another song had been a fitter weapon
Of opposition than a sword, methinks.
[Giving the paper to a secretary.
Note down that I will look on this again.

2d noble
(giving a paper).
Deign, royal sir, to look upon this paper.

King.
Freely, Don Blas; from such a noble hand
It needs must be an honourable suit.
[Reading the paper.
Don Julian, of the noble house of Guzman,
Hath, by the cadet of a meaner house,
Been elbow'd from his place, who most nefariously
Refused to yield to him the dexter side.
[Reading on more slightly.
Honour repair'd—that he be forced—a blow!
[Shaking his head.
We are too learned in this ancient kingdom.
Nay, reverend prelate, no offence to you;
The clergy stand acquitted of this charge.

Prelate.
I know not how to comprehend your highness.

King.
We should be spared full many a deadly broil,
Did we not know our right hand from our left.
We are in this, good sooth! too nicely learn'd,
Which doth but scantily, in my opinion,
Supply the want of every other lore.

2d noble
(aside to 1st).
Never may I again i' th' royal presence
Wear hat and plume, if this is not derision.

1 noble
(aside).
'Tis Don Henriquez we may thank for this.
He spoke not to us thus when the arm'd Moor
Was nearer to his doors.

King
(to prelate).
And now, my lord, let me receive your paper.

Prelate.
Most humbly to your highness I present it,
From pious men, whose prayers are offer'd up
For your prosperity.

[Gives the paper.
King
(reading it slightly).
“That the free hinds of Tormes and their wives
Refuse their wonted offerings to the convent,
And therefore humbly—the adjoining lands—
A royal compensation.”—So it runs,
And it must cost me many a fruitful field,
Because those villagers love fatted pullets,
As well as sober, self-denying monks!
This also at our leisure we'll consider.
[Gives the paper to the secretary, and sitting down, receives other petitions, when a confused noise is heard.
What noise is that without?

Enter an Officer.
Offi.
May't please you, Don Henriquez waits without.

King.
Henriquez, my brave general? How is this?

Offi.
He comes attended by a goodly train,
Guarding a prisoner, and humbly begs
To be admitted to the royal presence,
Before your court shall sit.

King.
Most willingly: say, I am ready now
To give him audience.
[Exit officer.
I marvel much
How it should be. In this unwonted form
To bring his prisoner!—But here he comes.

Enter Henriquez, followed by Carlos and Antonio, going up to the King, who rises to meet him.
King.
Thou too, my valiant friend, a suitor here?

Hen.
A humble supplicant.

King.
Who needs not sue.
Say freely what thou wouldst, and it is granted.

Hen.
But what I beg, an earnest boon, must be
Confirm'd to me with all solemnity,
Before I utter it.

King.
A strange request!
But that thy services have been to me
Beyond all recompense, and that I know
Thy country's welfare and thy sovereign's honour
Are dear to thee, as thou full well hast proved,
I should with some precaution give my word.
But be it so; I say thy suit is granted.

Hen.
Nay, swear it on this sword.

King.
Where doth this tend? Doubtst thou my royal word?

Hen.
When honour'd lately by your princely presence,
You gave to me this ring with words of favour;
And said if I should e'er, by fortune press'd,
Return the same to you, whatever grace
I then might ask, should be conceded to me.
[Giving the ring.
Receive your royal token: my request
Is that you swear upon my sword to grant
This boon which I shall beg.

[Holds out his sword to the King, who lays his hand on it.
King.
This sword, this honour'd blade, I know it well,
Which thou in battle from the princely Moor
So valiantly didst win: why should I shrink
From any oath that shall be sworn on this?
I swear, by the firm honour of a soldier,
To grant thy boon, whatever it may be.
Declare it then, Henriquez.
[A pause.
Thou art pale
And silent too: I wait upon thy words.

Hen.
My breath forsook me. 'Tis a passing weakness:
I have power now. There is a criminal,
Whose guilt before your highness in due form
Shall shortly be attested; and my boon
Is, that your highness will not pardon him
However strongly you may be inclined
To royal clemency,—however strongly
Entreated so to do.

King.
This much amazes me. Ever till now,
Thou'st been inclined to mercy, not to blood.

Hen.
Yea; but this criminal, with selfish cruelty,
With black ingratitude, with base disloyalty
To all that sacred is in virtuous ties,
Knitting man's heart to man—What shall I say?
I have no room to breathe.
[Tearing open his doublet with violence.
He had a friend,
Ingenuous, faithful, generous, and noble:
E'en but to look on him had been full warrant
Against th' accusing tongue of man or angel,
To all the world beside,—and yet he slew him.
A friend whose fost'ring love had been the stay,
The guide, the solace of his wayward youth,—
Love steady, tried, unwearied,—yet he slew him.
A friend, who in his best devoted thoughts,
His happiness on earth, his bliss in heaven,
Intwined his image, and could nought devise
Of sep'rate good,—and yet he basely slew him;
Rush'd on him like a ruffian in the dark,
And thrust him forth from life, from light, from nature,
Unwitting, unprepared for th' awful change
Death brings to all. This act so foul, so damned,
This he hath done: therefore upon his head
Let fall the law's unmitigated justice.

King.
And wherefore doubtst thou that from such a man
I will withhold all grace? Were he my brother
I would not pardon him. Produce your criminal.

[Those who have Antonio in custody lead him forward.
Hen.
(motioning with his hand to forbid them).
Undo his shackles; he is innocent.

King.
What meaneth this? Produce your criminal.

Hen.
(kneeling).
My royal master, he is at your feet.

[A cry of astonishment is heard through the hall; the King, staggering back from the spot, is supported by an attendant, while Carlos and Antonio, now free from his fetters, run to Henriquez, who continues kneeling, and bend over him in deep concern.
King
(recovering).
A fearful shock! Mine ears are ringing still.
Rise, Don Henriquez d'Altavera, rise! (Turning away his head.)

Raise him: O do not let me see him thus!

[Motions the crowd to withdraw, who go off, leaving the King, Henriquez, Carlos, and Antonio only on the stage.
King
(fiercely).
Carlos, on thee my anger rests, who thus
Stoodst by and suffer'dst me to be deceived.

Car.
Condemn me not, my liege; I was myself,
Convinced this youth had done the deed, deceived.
This on a soldier's honour I aver.

King.
Alas, Henriquez! thou hast practised on me
With cruel guile. I would right gladly forfeit
The fairest town thy sword e'er won for me,
And be again at liberty to pardon
Whatever thou hast done: a deed, most surely,
By thy high nature all too rudely charged.
Thou in the frenzy of some headlong passion
Hast acted as a madman, who still wreaks
His direst wrath on those he loves the most.

Hen.
No, no! it was an act of brooding thought,
Of slow intent, of dark consideration.
Our early love, with all his fair endowments
And noble qualities, before my mind
Did clearly pass; pass and return again,
And strongly plead for him, and were rejected.

King.
Go to! thou hast a wild imagination,
Which has o'erreach'd thy judgment.—Set me free.
The public weal requires thy service: oaths
Adverse to this do not, and should not, bind.

Hen.
There are within your kingdom many chiefs
Who may do better service to the state,
Though not with better will than I have done;
[Laying his sword at the King's feet.
Here do I part with ensigns, arms, and war;
Nor soldier's brand, nor baton of command,
This hand accursed shall ever grasp again.
Your highness by the honour of a prince
Stands bound to me in this, and you are bound.

King.
Ay, if it needs must be, determined spirit!
Yet, think again; be it awhile deferr'd,
This dismal trial, for a month—a year.

Hen.
Not for a day.

King.
Thou art too boldly stubborn.
By what authority dost thou oppose it,
If 'tis my pleasure it should be deferr'd?

Hen.
The law's authority emboldens me.
I am Don Juan's heir, and do by right
Demand the speedy trial of his murderer.
Nor think the law's delay would aught avail.
How many secret ways there may be found
To rid a wretch of life, who loathes to live.
My soul demands this sacrifice—pants for it,
As that which can alone restore to it
The grace of heav'n and the respect of men.

Car.
Noble Henriquez, thy too stubborn virtue—

Hen.
Nay, Carlos, hold thy peace. Be not my foe:
He were my greatest enemy who should
Impede this consummation. When 'tis past,
Then let the favour of my princely master,
Of loving camp-mates, and all virtuous men,
Return to me again. A noble treasure
That will redeem my memory from shame.

King
(embracing him).
Living or dead, brave man, thou must be honour'd!
I will no more contend with thy desires.
Some preparation for this solemn ceremony
Thou wilt require; Don Carlos will conduct thee
Where thou mayst rest and find all needful aid.

[Exit.
Hen.
Come, friends, till I am summon'd to my trial:
The time is short, and we must husband it.
[Going and stopping again.
I shun not now thy friendly aid, good Carlos;
My heart is lighten'd of its heavy load,
And I can take a good man by the hand,
And feel we are akin.

Car.
To all that is most great and admirable
Thou art akin. I have no words to speak
The thoughts I have of thee, thou noble man!

Hen.
(to Antonio).
And thou too, gentle youth; give me thy hand.
Thy noble confidence did point to me
The true and honour'd path. For, hadst thou fled,
I might have shrunk aside, and been on earth
A sullen secret thing of wretchedness,
Cursing the light of heaven. Gentle youth,
I've felt the kindly pressure of thy hand,
And all thy gen'rous sympathy: forgive me,
That I did hold thy mind so long in doubt.

Ant.
O nothing did I doubt that thou didst know
My innocence, and would protect it; yet,
This noble, terrible act I ne'er divined.
Would I had fled my prison at thy bidding,
And lived a vagabond upon the earth,
Ere this had been! What was my name or worth?
But thou—

Hen.
Cease, cease! repent it not, sweet youth;
For all the friends on earth would not have done me
Such true and worthy service!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A royal apartment. Enter Leonora and Friar.
Friar.
The king will from his council come ere long;
Then wait, I pray, and take a little respite
From this impatient fever of your mind.

Leo.
Take respite! this impatience! O, good father!
Thou canst not know this agony, and speakst
Like one secured from human misery.
Heaven grant me patience! I have need of it;
But it must come from heaven.

Friar.
See; now his highness enters.

Enter King attended; and Leonora, running to him, casts herself at his feet, embracing his knees.
King.
The lady Leonora! rise, dear lady.

Leo.
No; to your knees I'll cling, nor quit my hold
Till from your royal pity I obtain
The mercy I implore.—My lord Henriquez—
Your valiant general—my dear, dear husband—
Say that he shall not die. This execution!
This malefactor's end! O save him! save him!

King
(raising her).
As far as I have power, your suit is granted.

Leo.
Then he is saved—he lives? Is it not so?

King.
Alas! I would it were. Your lord refuses
All royal mercy. I have sworn to him
Never to pardon Juan's murderer.
If thou canst move his stubborn spirit, kneel,
And at his feet implore him to release me
From this most fatal oath.

Leo.
Move him! Alas, alas! this will not be;
I know him well: in what he deems the right,
He is inflexible. But solemn oaths,
E'en oaths upon the holy relics sworn,
The holy church annuls: it will release you.
Then say not you are bound.

King.
From oaths upon the holy relics sworn
The church can loose, as thou, no doubt, hast learnt
From sacred books and this good father's lore;
But, solemnly, upon Henriquez' sword
I've pledged a prince's word—a soldier's honour,
From which nought can release me, but the will
And free consent of him to whom 'tis pledged.
Hie, therefore, to thy lord: kneel at his feet,
And may heav'n give thee power to touch his heart.

Leo.
Is all my hope in this! Unhappy woman!
By heaven and man abandon'd—Dismal doom!
The woe of desperation!
[Franticly wringing her hands, and then turning in anger to the King.
There's mockery in this. Thou art a king,
And canst command what I would beg in vain;
Command him, as his royal liege and master,
That he release thee from this fatal pledge.
A king, and not obey'd! deceitful shadow!
Doth not thy power o'er all things reign supreme?

King.
Not o'er men's wills.—
This is a power heaven to itself retains,
And ne'er did delegate to mortal being.

Leo.
(pacing about as before).
Despair, despair!
What see I but despair,
Shame, infamy, a malefactor's end?

King.
Wring not thy hands so wildly, wretched lady!
His life, indeed, we must despair to save;
But infamy is from his name remov'd,
As heaven from hell. Yea, his proud house shall boast
Of this its noble malefactor, more
Than all its trophied chiefs.
When at the bar he stood arraign'd, and pled,
Proving his secret guilt, against himself,
Ne'er rose his form so nobly on the mind,
Even in his days of triumph.—
But when the fatal sentence was pronounced,
He raised his head, and sent a look to heav'n
Of pleased appeal and solemn thankfulness;
A look of pious hope so dignified,
He seem'd like some fall'n seraph that again
Had won his way to bliss.—A general murmur
Of admiration from deep silence rose.
Old men did clasp their hands, and young men wept;
And those who on his victories bestow'd
A cold and niggard praise, now, with full hearts,
Gave boundless tribute to his lofty virtue.

Leo.
And he was honour'd thus! high heaven be prais'd!
[Bursting into tears.
It makes me weep that they did weep for him.
Heaven's will be done!
I've been too stern and violent in my grief:
God grant me more submission to His will,
And I will learn to bear it. My Henriquez!
The brave with tears of admiration grace
Thy hapless end, and rescue thee from shame.

King.
Rescue! far more than rescue: his proud house
The very implements of execution
Will henceforth in their banners proudly weave.

Leo.
I needs must weep; but let my tears have vent,
And I shall be resign'd.

Enter Carlos and Antonio.
King
(to them).
How is Henriquez? came ye from his tower?

Car.
Most admirably well; his soul is up:
I left him shaking hands most cordially
With his worst enemy, and he intends,
Ere close the night's first watch, to spend an hour
In social converse with some early friends,
Who shared his first campaigns, and have desired
To see his face once more.—
His soul seems open'd now, and raised above
That close reserve, which was his greatest blemish.

King.
Some noble minds do from misfortune rise,
Yea, e'en from guilt, more noble than before;
As by the hardest blow the smitten ball
Bounds highest from the earth.—
Retire, fair Leonora: this good man (pointing to friar)

Will heavenly comfort to thy soul impart,
And strengthen it to bear the coming trial.

[Friar supports her on one side, while Antonio offers his aid also, as she goes off.
Leo.
(to Ant.)
Not thou; the hidden cause of all this woe.

Friar.
Nay, daughter, be not angry with this youth.
The will of heaven must be; the means appointed
Must also be: he is most innocent,
Since ignorant of ill.

Leo.
My grief is wayward still; but I'll subdue it.

[Takes hold of Antonio, and exit with him and friar, while King, Carlos, and attendants go out by another door.

SCENE III.

Before the gate of the prison; the stage dark, excepting a lamp hung over the gate; sentinels discovered on watch.
Enter Balthazar with a dark lantern.
1st sen.
Stand! who art thou?

Bal.
A friend, connected with the noble prisoner.

Sen.
Stand there aloof; thou mayst not enter yet.

Enter Friar by the opposite side.
1st sen.
Ho there!

Friar.
A friend.

2d sen.
A friend! What seekst thou here?

Friar.
I am a priest, confessor to Henriquez.

1st sen.
Thou shalt have entrance presently.

Friar.
I thank thee.
[Going up close to Bal.
Thou art Balthazar?

Bal.
And thy servant, father.

Friar.
Thou'rt up betimes; it is still pitchy night.

Bal.
Nay; look thou eastward; you dull line of light,
Bounding the sable darkness of the earth
From the sky's fainter gloom: it is the dawn.

Friar.
Ha! runs the time so fast! what noise is that?

Bal.
The hum of distant voices, and the sound
Of preparation for the awful morn.
As I now pass'd along, in every street
I heard the eager citizens astir,
While light from many a lattice gleam'd. And onward,
As I approach'd th' appointed place, I saw
Round the fenced spot, already gather'd, groups
Of men and women, young and old, whose faces
Did seem, from darkness, as from nothing sprung,
Touch'd with the torches' glaring light, which downward
Stream'd from the lofty scaffold, whereon forms
Of busy artists at their fatal work,
And ghastly headsmen moving to and fro,
Appear'd like blacken'd fiends. Dost thou not hear
The stroke of hammers, and that sounding plank?
There comes a strange and thrilling coldness o'er me.
[A pause and noise without.
I little thought to feel such ruth for him,
The man who slew my good and noble master.

Friar.
Why shouldst thou not? the feeling does thee honour;
And he doth for that rash and rueful deed
Make dear and great amends. The gate is open'd.

[Exeunt into the prison.

SCENE IV.

A passage way in the prison. Enter Friar and Gaoler, speaking as they enter.
Gaoler.
But it is past the hour; he must be waked.

Friar.
Waked! dost thou think he sleeps?

Gaoler.
Yes, father; he hath slept, I guess, since midnight.

Friar.
How knowst thou this?

Gaoler.
I've listen'd at his door
From time to time, and nought have heard within
But a deep silence, once or twice brok'n faintly
By slow-heaved breathings, as of heavy sleep.

Friar.
So sound asleep, and such a morn to wake to!

Gaoler.
Nay, they who sleep before their day of doom
Sleep often thus,—a deathlike, dreamless sleep.
[Speaking as he goes off.
I well remember one, who, on the morn—

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The prison chamber. Henriquez discovered asleep on a couch, near the front of the stage.
Enter Friar and Gaoler.
Friar.
Still fast asleep: it grieves my soul to wake him.
No trace of trouble on his face! He lies
Like a tired hunter after toilsome chase.
Call to him, friend, I cannot.

Gaoler.
Ho! Don Henriquez! ho, my lord! awake!
Awake, my lord!—He is in heavy sleep,
Like the dull rest of death, which hath no ear.

Friar.
Oh that it were indeed the rest of death!
It is a woeful service to awake him.
How goes the time? Might he still sleep awhile?

Gaoler.
'Tis past the hour at which he charged me strictly
To call him up.

Friar.
Then he must be obey'd.

Gaoler
(touching him gently).
Wake! Don Henriquez, wake! It is the hour.
He moves him now: the sound is in his ears;
The light annoys his eyes. Awake, my lord!

[Touching him again.
Hen.
(raising his head).
What is it?

Gaoler.
'Tis the hour the morning breaks.

Hen.
(starting from his couch).
Bring me my armour: have ye roused the camp?
Bid every soldier dight him for the field:
I've slept too long.

Gaoler.
It is the very hour
At which you did give orders to be waked.

Hen.
Ha! Yes, I understand thee: it is morn,—
The fated morn that brings to me no noon.
Sleep from the tablet of my brain had razed
All present things, and in my waking fancy
Had led me back to what I was so lately.
I thank you. Dawns the light?

Friar and Gaoler
(both at once).
The morning breaks.

Hen.
Your voices sound like midnight, not like morn.
Welcome, good father; thou art come, in truth,
To wake me for the fight, and brace my strength,
Not with corporeal arms.

Friar.
No, good my lord;
A nobler armour, for a nobler warfare:
And the Almighty King, whose valiant soldier
Thou wilt this day approve thyself to be,
Will gird thee for the field. Receive from him
His high commission, worthy of a man.

Hen.
(looking upward, and then kneeling with his arms on his breast, and his head bowed to the ground).
I do receive it, father, most devoutly.
[Rising with solemnity.
Let me be forward in my work, good father.
I would retire, and give my thoughts to heaven
Ere earthly things shall press to mingle with them.
Come, then, and join thy fervent prayers with mine,
And teach my dying voice to sue for mercy.

[Exit with friar.
Gaoler
(looking after Henriquez).
The right true metal this; 'twill bear the furnace.
Ah! who would once have thought that from my custody
He should pass forth to such a death? Heaven doom'd it.
[Noise and bustle without.
What noise is that without?—Ho! who would enter?

Voice
(without).
Open; it is the king.

[Gaoler opens the door, and enter the King, Carlos, Antonio, and Balthazar.
King
(to gaoler).
Where is thy noble charge?

Gaoler.
With his confessor, in the private chapel.

King.
How is he, gaoler? Has he through the night
Had any rest?

Gaoler.
Yes, may it please your highness,
He hath slept soundly.

King.
Sound sleep in such a state! Yet, wherefore marvel:
He has been used to look death i' the face.

Car.
Ay, in the field; but many brave him there,
Who on a scaffold feel their manhood quail.

King.
Is it so, gaoler? Thou hast good experience.

Gaoler.
Some years ago, two brothers suffer'd here,
For an offence of state; the one a soldier,
Stout, brave, and bold in war; the other bred
To quiet life at home; but on the scaffold
The man of peace did bear the loftier brow,
And beat the hardy vet'ran shamefully.

King.
Strange creatures are we all! and who is known
Until his trial comes?—I think, good Carlos
Thou toldst me he conversed with cheerfulness
Till a late hour last night.

Car.
Yes, good my liege,
Having first settled all his worldly cares,
Like one, who, from a heavy load released,
Unclasps his vest to recreate himself,
He with two ancient camp-mates and your liegeman
Convers'd with kindlier, more enliven'd freedom
Than he was wont: spoke of their old adventures,
Prais'd many a valiant heart, fall'n in the field,
And of the fate of others did inquire
With kindly interest, as though his soul
Upon the very parting verge of nature
Felt nature's sympathies more warmly. Truly
His spirit seem'd already to have doff'd
Its earthly coat, and gain'd a purer being.

King.
Ay; he is passing to a higher state:
So teach our holy men, and I believe them.
Doth aught approaching to a final end
Of dark extinction rise to meet it thus?
It doth not;—no, it cannot.
But first he settled all his worldly cares.
And what are his bequests?

Car.
Balthazar, thou canst tell.

Bal.
He first of all provides a noble monument
To Juan's mem'ry near his native town,
Desiring he himself may be interr'd
In the same vault with him, and by his side.
For many friends, and all his ancient servants,
Forgetting none, he hath made kind provision.
His lady's dowry is enlarg'd, and Mencia
Receives a noble portion to bestow
Upon her early lover, this good youth,
Whom he hath named with words of special love.

King
(to Antonio, who turns aside to weep.)
Weep freely, gentle youth; whom he hath loved
Shall ever in his prince's favour hold
An honourable place.—Pray thee, proceed.

Bal.
He hath, besides, for good and pious ends,
A large benevolence—

Car.
Hush! he approaches.

Re-enter Henriquez and Friar.
King
(advancing to meet him).
My noble friend, I felt a strong desire
Once more—a short intrusion.

Hen.
Say not so.
Your grace is come to wish me a good morrow,
And cheer me on this outset of my way.

King.
Alas! a dismal cheer, a woful morrow!

Hen.
Nay, three successive days have dawn'd upon me
Through such a gloom of hopeless misery,
That this, comparatively, seems indeed
A morn of cheer. Then so consider it.
And now, in parting, I would beg of you
To pardon whatsoe'er, in my long service,
I've done, in ignorance or stubborn will,
To prejudice the service of the state,
Or to offend your grace. Once at Cuenca
I rashly hazarded some brave men's lives;
And, for th' unmeaning triumph of a day,
Those brave men's lives were lost. My heart for this
Has suffer'd many a pang; but pride till now
Restrain'd confession. Pardon me for this.

King.
Thou needst from me no pardon; yet thou hast it,
And with it, too, my thanks,—my solemn thanks,
For all the noble service thou hast done me.
And is there no request thou hast to make?

Hen.
Yes, if I might presume. Here is a list
[Giving the King a paper.
Of some brave officers, whose worthy services
Deserve promotion: let them, for my sake,
Find favour with your grace. This is my suit.

King.
It shall be done. Oh that a suit of mine
Could, in return, move thine obdurate bosom!

Hen.
What is't, my gracious master?

King.
If I have been to thee a gracious master,
Be thou a gracious liegeman, and restore—
Restore to me that honour of my reign,
That pride, and fence, and bulwark of my land,—
Restore to me again my gallant general,
Henriquez d'Altavera.

Hen.
Alphonso of Castile, I've serv'd thee long,—
Yea, though I say it, I have served thee bravely.
Have I from fire, or flood, or havoc shrunk?
What battle have I lost, what town abandon'd,
That now I may not, like a noble Spaniard,
My earthly station quit, from insult spared?
I've owed you service as my rightful king;
I've owed you service as my gracious master:
But not for man on earth, nor saint in heaven,
Would I submit a loathed life to live,
After the horrid deed that I have done.

Friar
(laying his hand gently on Henriquez).
My son, my son! where is the Christian meekness,
Which, at the Throne of Grace, some moments since,
Thou didst devoutly pray for?

Hen.
Father, I am reproved: my mortal frailty
Was smother'd, not extinct.
[Turning to the King.
I will not, standing on this awful verge,
To mortal greatness bend, else on my knees
I'd crave forgiveness of this new offence:
[Laying his hand sorrowfully on his breast.
An unrein'd mind, offending to the last!

[The King rushes into his arms and embraces him; then turns away, retiring to the bottom of the stage, to conceal strong emotion.
Hen.
Carlos, thou wilt not leave me till the end;
But thou'lt forgive me now the many wrongs
I've done thine honest worth, fastidiously
Bestowing confidence on one alone.
[Taking his hand affectionately.
(Turning to Antonio.)
And thou, brave youth, I know thy gen'rous soul.
Though I have held thee long in doubt, I trust
Thou partst with me in charity.

Ant.
(catching his hands, and kissing them fervently).
In love,
In deepest admiration, in devotion
That for thy sake would make me welcome death,
Yea, suffer shame, or be an outlaw'd wretch,
Cast off from all my kind.

Hen.
Come to my heart! think of me when I'm gone;
And be my fate thy warning. For I see
Keen passions and affections in thy nature,
Akin to those I felt in early youth.
And when thou thinkst of me, consider this:
The law condemneth not a man unheard,
Be he the veriest wretch upon the earth:
But I condemn'd my dearest friend unheard.
Balthazar, thou dost know how very dear—
No, no! thou couldst not know how well I loved him.
Farewell, good secretary, and be sure
Thou mind thy charge. See that it be erected
With strength and skill; a noble monument,
That will resist the silent strokes of time. (Looking round.)

Where is my ancient servant, good Diego?
How is it that I do not see him here?

Bal.
On learning that your sentence was pronounced,
He took his bed; and whether violent grief
Or other means did speed his end, I know not:
He died last night.

Hen.
Then I shall meet him shortly, where the servant,
Freed from his master, fears his wrath no more.
My poor Diego! he did live with me
In too much awe: and yet he loved me well.
I was to blame in this.

Enter Leonora and Mencia.
Car.
Thy Leonora comes.

Hen.
Ah! would she had been spared this dismal parting!

Car.
She would not be restrain'd.

Hen.
My Leonora, wherefore art thou come?
Yet thou art welcome to my heart once more.
Farewell in love,—in true, in most dear love,
My dearest wife!

Leo.
Oh no! thy cruel wife,
The cause of all thy misery,—thy bane.

Hen.
(embracing her).
Hush, hush! thou wast my torment and my bliss,
But O! far more my bliss! So be content.
I have had many days of prosperous life
Before this storm of misery broke upon me,
Thy love the flower and crown of all. Be comforted!
And Mencia, too, sweet maid, I understand
Thy mute farewell, which I accept. God bless thee!
Antonio, take thy charge.

[Putting Mencia's hand in his.
Heaven bless thee, and farewell, my dearest wifel
Leo.
Not yet, not yet! my swelling heart will burst.
It tries to utter what it cannot.—Oh!

[A bell tolls, and she, giving a loud shriek, falls into the arms of Mencia and Antonio.
Hen.
Bear her away; I may not look again!

[As she is borne off, the King advances to the front.
King.
Farewell, thou noble man! Part we in charity?

Hen.
In charity; and on your royal head
My dying blessing rest!
[Exit King.
Here comes the marshal.
Enter Marshal and other officers.
(To the marshal.)
Are all things ready, then?
[The marshal bows.
(To Carlos and friar.)
My faithful friends,
Who still cling to my latest throb of life,
I claim of you a kind but painful service!

[He begins to move, the friar walking by his side, and Carlos following, while the bell tolls, and a large door in the centre of the back scene being thrown open, discovers a grand arched passage, lined with guards and other public officers, who, as he passes along, join the procession. The curtain drops.