 | Henriquez |  |
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:
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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.
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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
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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.
| Henriquez | |