University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

—The Ante-room to Olivia's Chamber.
Two Attendants variously occupied—a knock at the door—which one of them opens.
Enter Almagro, Anthonio, and Omer.
Alma.
You are dismiss'd till morning.—You will find
Your couches in the quarter that we spoke of.—
Withdraw; and mind, thanks but precede rewards,
Not stand for them, with us! Meantime we thank you.
Good night.—
[Attendants go out, Almagro locks the door after them.
Anthonio!
[Anthonio comes forward.
Are you a man of nerve?

Anth.
I dare aver I am.

Alma.
'Tis a great property,
Which more avails men in this world of barter
Than what they buy or sell;—you know what I mean?
The nerve that gains its point, no matter how!
You will perform the ceremony?

Anth.
Yes.

Alma.
Howe'er she may protest, gainsay, entreat,
Threaten, change colour, weep, shriek, swoon away—
It may come to that—in any case whatever,
You will not halt, but on?

Anth.
I shall go on!

Alma.
And I shall render the responses, both
For her, and for myself. Retire and wait
In the Oratory—That's the door to it.—
[Anthonio goes out.
Omer!

Omer.
My lord!

Alma.
'Tis likely, as I told you,
Your aid may stead me; in which case, approve
The Moor may boast in you a worthy son.
You will see her tears, as though you saw them not!
And hear her cries, as though you heard them not!
And limbs, whose tenderness dissuades enforcement,
Reply to as the vice would, say it held them!
Behind these hangings take thy station, till
My summons asks thy aid—till then keep still!

Omer.
I shall observe, my lord.

[Omer conceals himself.
Alma.
And I reward!
'Tis near the time she makes her toilet up
For the night.—Anon she'll summon her attendants,
And missing their reply, no doubt come forth.
[The clock strikes.
Hark!—Her remembrancer!—Listen!

Olivia
[within].
Therese!

Alma.
Well answer'd, silence!

Olivia.
What!—Therese!—Therese!
Christina, where are you?
[Enters, without perceiving Almagro, who retires a little.
Where are my maids?
I am left alone by them—and purposely!
I am sure of it!—Alasco does not come,
Nor message has he sent me!—Flight he talk'd of,
And still am I in Saragossa! Oh!
What mountain huge and inaccessible
Has fate heaved up between us?—Has he seen
Almagro? tax'd him with the shame he did me?
And, for his honest rashness, answer'd with
His liberty—perhaps his life? That man
Is match for all extremities!—That man,
I have heard my father say, to gain his end,
Would stop at nought—not blood!—My father, too!
'Tis past the time he used to visit me,
An hour; nor has he come—no word from him!
My motions watch'd—egress, debarr'd me, from
The quarters set apart for me!—the cause,
Reasons of state”—“the Regent's will;” but why
His will, or why those reasons, held from me—
The door! perhaps 'tis free. Lock'd on me still!
[Tries to open it.
Heaven is not lock'd!—There is my only refuge!
I'll in, nor other couch enjoy to-night
Save what my knees can make them of the ground,
Whence shall my soul look up to heaven till morning!
[Retiring, is intercepted by Almagro.
Almagro!

Alma.
Not so fast, Olivia—stop;
Or, if you will return into your chamber,
I'll pass along with you.

Olivia.
Hoa!—help there!

Alma.
[Grasping her wrist.]
Silence!
Shriek not!

Olivia.
My wrist is broken, sir.

Alma.
I grasp'd it,
But not with undue force.

Olivia.
Look there!—the blood
In answer to your fingers!—Fie!—a man
And use a woman so! Where are my women!—
Wherefore attend they not?—why not obey
My summons?—where are they?

Alma.
Hence, by my orders;
Far out of reach of hearing—as all others
Who might intrude upon the conference
I mean to hold with you!—You will call in vain!

Olivia.
Confer with thee!—here?—at this time o' night,
Alone?—a man?—and one I shudder at
In company, and in the open day?
Confer!—Begone, sir!—If respect, on thy part,
Does not instruct thee to recross my threshold,
Let loathing upon mine! Think what I am, sir,
And if thou hast forgot thou art a man,
Let that remind thee on't, and make thee blush,
And drive thee from my presence!

Alma.
What art thou?

Olivia.
What am I, sir?—a wife!—I am a wife!—
A name that's haply borne by one that's weak,
But gives a power to her, to cope with which,
He that would mock her must make up his mind
To abide the wrath of the stern sanctities
Which, in the names of father, brother, husband,
Protect the wearer's honour!

Alma.
With your leave,
At least a word or two before we part.

Olivia.
No! not a syllable!

Alma.
Without your leave, then!

Olivia.
Dare you compel me?

Alma.
If you force me!—Girl,
You are in my power!

Olivia.
Heavens! and for this same man
My brother would have laid his life down! [To herself.]
Where
Is my brother?—At the thought of strait to him,
Danger or worse, how, all at once, my heart
Casts off the shackles of congealing fear,
And feels at large, with all its faculties!
[Resolutely approaches Almagro, without looking at him, through abhorrence.
Almagro, where is my brother?

Almagro.
[Confounded momentarily.]
Where!

Olivia.
Take time;
The answer's not at hand—not to be found
Except by dint of searching for't—take time!
Yet why delay at all?—Truth has no answer
Save one—if that won't serve, there's falsehood with
A thousand!—Take the first of them—from first
To last, they are all the same!—Is he alive?

Alma.
He is!

Olivia.
Where is he?

Alma.
Gone to his command,
As I suppose.

Olivia.
As you suppose! You met
Before he went?

Alma.
I think we did.

Olivia.
You think!
You had no words?

Alma.
Words!

Olivia.
Words! You did not quarrel?

Alma.
Quarrel!

Olivia.
No mortal strife fell out between you?
No swords were drawn, nor daggers, yet, pluck'd forth,
Were there?

Alma.
My hand fall from my side, if sword
Or dagger quitted sheath of mine to-day!

Olivia.
[Aside.]
No thunder yet, and thunder-clouds all round!
Out of such pitch and wrack a bolt must come!—
My father! how is it with him? Almagro,
How fares it with my father? where is he?
Or access, hither, is prevented him,
Or, hence, he bears my brother company,
Or something or another has befallen him.
Why don't you speak, Almagro? [Looking at him.]
Gracious powers!
Your face, which scarce till now I lifted eye to,
Is not the same! but changed, and horribly.
How you remind me of a wretch I saw
Taken in the act of murder once! He had pass'd me
An hour before, a hale young man. The change
An hour had made in him! He had aged a life
In that brief hour—and so have you since last
I look'd upon you, near as brief a lapse!
Almagro, where is my father? Tell me, man!
What takes away your breath, or strikes you dumb?—
I am not your accusing spirit—I am only
My father's child! Are you his murderer?—
He is murder'd!

Alma.
[by an effort recovering himself].
Well may wonder gasp to meet,
From lips so loved, question of act so hateful!
Listen and interrupt me not.—Thy vows
Thy father-King has all absolved thee from;
Thou art free to wed again, and wed to me
This very hour shall see thee!

Olivia.
Wed to thee!

Alma.
You heard me, did you not?

Olivia.
Hast thou encounter'd
The horror of the wolf-pack, as, at night,
The howl at distance on the mountain road
Admonish'd thee, when hunger was abroad
Roaming ravine and steep, cut off from food,
As the earth lay entomb'd in frozen snow?
I have, until my blood almost congeal'd,
My joints began to lose their faculty,
And, but for help, I must have dropp'd and lain,
Incapable of motion as a stone!
'Twas nothing to the thought of wedding thee!—
Though that I know a thing impossible!—
Not with the wolf-pack so! knew I the track
The famish'd monsters would be sure to come;
Sooner would I lie in it, bound hand and foot,
Than risk the chance would make me bride to thee!
Thy hand, presenting me the bridal ring,
I would recoil from as it brought to me
My brother's corse! Yea, as 'twere reeking with
My father's blood!—Preserve me, Heaven! he looks
Again the very heart and soul of murder!

Alma.
[Recovering himself.]
I'll speak to thee once more and then I'll act.
Observe! Within this quarter, where thou bidest,
There breathe not any can be hindrance to me!
The forms and agents, that make man and wife
Are ready!—Sure as in that chamber lies
Thy couch, and his, thou call'dst aforetime lord—
That couch receives another lord to-night!
Consent!

Olivia.
I think—and madden while I think!
O husband, where art thou!—Alasco!—Father!
A wife! a child!—a sister!—and no help!

Alma.
Consent!—provoke not force!

Olivia.
I dare you, wretch!
Ay, woman as I am—weak and alone—
I execrate, abhor you, and defy you!

Alma.
What, hoa!—within there!

[Omer and Anthonio advance.
Olivia.
[Draws a dagger.]
Is it so? behold, then!
This talisman will I defeat thee with,
Summoning him, with whom, to side with me,
I am more than match for all who come against me!
Witness, e'en you, [to Omer and Anthonio]
the act that wrecks my life,
To save my honour, is not mine, but his
Who on this dread extremity impels me!—
Mine honour!—precious for itself, past life,
But doubly precious for my dear lord's sake;
In faith to whom my heart pours out the blood,
No drop of which was e'er rebellious to him.

[Omer arrests her arm as she is going to stab herself; she struggles desperately with him—and, at last, falls fainting into his arms.
Alma.
Prevent her—Oh, well done!—What, is she dead?

[Trumpet at a great distance.
Omer.
She has fainted.

Alma.
Hark!—what hear you!

Omer.
I mistake,
Or 'tis a trumpet.

Alma.
From without the walls?

Omer.
I thought so.

Alma.
There it is again!—It speaks—

Omer.
Like a friend.

Alma.
I hope so.

Cortez
[without].
Where is the Regent?

Alma.
[Unlocking the door.]
Here!

Enter Cortez.
Cortez.
Alasco and the King, their powers combined,
Approach the gates—A herald in their names
Demands admittance, which the crowd, not only,
But e'en the soldiery, to yield incline.
Ruphino's death is bruited far and wide,
And discontent thereon is open-mouth'd.
Still of your special friends the most stand true,
The which to keep behoves you show yourself.

Alma.
I come to them!—Away!—I follow you.
[Cortez goes out.
Observe my signet—should I send it to you,
[To Omer, aside.
The purpose now you balk'd yourself effect.
'Tis but her own intent that you fulfil;
So may the act light on your conscience sit.
That done, you know where lie my coffers—Take
The key and help yourself!—Attend me, father!

[Goes out with Anthonio. Alarum and tumult, without.
Re-enter the Priest.
Priest.
This signet from the Regent.

Omer.
What has happen'd?

Priest.
Almagro, striving to retain the city,
Was by his own abettors overborne.
The gates have welcomed in their former master,
With whom Alasco enters now; which issue
As soon as he foresaw, Almagro gave
This signet to me with injunction strict
To place it in thy hand. I pray thee, Moor,
What means it?

Omer.
What concerns not thee to know!

Priest.
Why whither wouldst thou take her? That way lies
Her chamber.

Omer.
Pay no heed to what I do!—
Nor follow me!—The task I've ta'en in hand
Abides not lookers on! Stay where thou art!
[Shows the dagger.]
Look to thyself! Dismiss all heed of me.

[Bears Olivia off.
Priest.
I little dream'd of this! That weapon, now,
So bright, how will it show anon? I thank
The Moor, for wishing me away! Too much
My share, already, in the deed of blood,
He goes to do! Might I not stop it? No!
He knows my business here!—I am compromised!
Say that I brought him to the scaffold, thither
He would not pass alone! Clean hands behoves
The man who dares to prate of filthy ones!

[Goes out.

SCENE II.

—The Corridor of the Palace.
Enter Velasquez and Andreas, meeting Nunez.
Velas.
Saw you Alasco, as you came along?

Nunez.
No, sir.

Velas.
The same response I meet from all:
Strange, how I lost him all at once!—We enter'd
The citadel together! Where can he be?
Only a word or two I changed with one,
Apart, who drew me to confer with him,
And straight returning found Alasco vanish'd.

Nunez.
Remember'st who was with him?

Velas.
Cortez.

Nunez.
Right!
Myself remark'd them—overheard them speaking,
Touching the manner of Ruphino's murder,
The while Almagro, guarded, walk'd before.

Velas.
Almagro? You remind me now of him.
Him, also, did I miss.

Nunez.
At the same time?
Where'er they are, most like they are together!

Velas.
The chance o'erleaps your guess—Be sure they are!
At such a juncture, save his father's death,
And him the hated instrument of it, nothing
Could so engross Alasco that he leaves
The throne untended that gives amnesty
To wide revolt; and, for the grace it deigns,
Receives whole hearts with thrice-sworn homage back!
Let's search for good Alasco.—Near Almagro,
Chain'd though he were already—he's no match,
For such a maze of wily villany!
Speed—Bestir yourself—He must be found!

[They go out.

SCENE III.

—The Dungeon of Torture. Around, the various implements. In the front, on one side, the rack; on the other, the block.
Enter Alasco,—stops and looks after him.
Alas.
Why do you hesitate? Come in, Almagro!
Come in.

Enter Almagro, Pedro, Omer, and Guards.
Alma.
A strange place this for conference!

Alas.
It is a silent and retired place:
What fitter then? Here are no eaves-droppers!
No thin partitions which invite the ear
While they repel the eye!—Free speech may here
Make free! Your sword, good jailer, leave with me,
And lay it noiselessly on yonder bench;
Then, with your friends retire; and as you go,
Make fast the door. An hour hence, come again!—
By then we shall have done. There for your pains.

[Aside to Jailer.
[Gives a purse to the Jailer, who retires with Guards, locking the door after them, having previously laid his sword as directed. Omer remains concealed.
Alma.
Why does he lock the dungeon door?

Alas.
To keep
Intrusion out. Such friends as you and I,
Sharing their hearts loving with one another,
Endure not bystanders when they confer!
Is it not so?

Alma.
Why are we here?

Alas.
Almagro!
Why are we anywhere but by the will
Of Heaven?—Its will be done!—Will you say so?

Alma.
Why should I not?

Alas.
Why, Heaven has given command
To men, they shall not murder; and 'tis written,
Who sheddeth blood shall bleed!—Sit down, Almagro,
On yonder engine.—I shall seat me here;
Such things awaken thoughts of seriousness,
And serious is the work we have in hand!—
Won't you sit down?—Decline you the fair seat?
You shrink from it! You are a man of ruth!
You know full well it is the couch of groans,—
Of sweat-drops, wrung by dint of agony,—
Of death-pangs, thick and sharp, though lingering,
In one of which more writhing, than he knows
Who, limb by limb, is broken on the wheel!—
And yet, when I bethink myself again,
I wonder you should loathe the instrument!
For look at me!—I breathe as free as ever;
My arms are folded o'er a heart at ease;
Its wonted hue, methinks, invests my cheek,
And I am sitting on the very block,
Yet never lifted axe to lop a head!—
Come!—take your seat, Almagro!

Alma.
What do you mean?

Alas.
I'll tell you, answer me a word or two!
Did I not trust you?—did I not love you?—both
With the simplicity of a very boy?
You know I did.—If not, why, say so.—Well?

Alma.
I do not say so.

Alas.
No?—so far, so well.

Alma.
What do you purpose?—Wherefore bring me hither?

Alas.
I haven't done yet!—Was't not my pride, Almagro,
To build you up in men's esteem above
Myself?—Whene'er they gave Alasco credit
For this or that desert,—did he not mount
Your merits on his own? If he did not,
Deny it.

Alma.
Nay, I don't deny it.

Alas.
Well,
Again!

Alma.
Alasco, this is freezing work!

Alas.
Not so, Almagro,—all the frost's to come!
You were a man of doubtful rank, Almagro—
I mean in men's esteem—when first I knew you;
Among our comrades, some would rate you low,
Some high, though doubtingly; none very high!
I raised you to the top, and kept you there;
Yea, when the people's choice between us lay
In even balance; 'gainst myself, I gave
The casting vote, at once, that made you Regent!
Now, to the credit side—my debts to you!
They are few, but large, Almagro!—Foremost, then,
A sister's sacredness profaned!—That trespass,
Had I learn'd it, then, from all the rest had saved thee—
Tell me how a man a modest woman treats,
And I'll tell you what kind of man he is!
In the next place—my credit undermined—
You know who Cortez is?—and with the smile,
As of a friend, that play'd fast and loose,
My freedom joepardized—perhaps my life!—
And last of all—ay,—look upon the rack!—
You might as well have laid an infant on it,
You would as soon!—I believe it!—last of all,
My father, like a sound leaf withering,
Which if allow'd to hang its little time
Falls with a breath that hardly stirs the spray,
Thou wouldst not suffer dreamingly to die,
But brought'st, with heart to ruth impenetrable,
As flint to dew, to an untimely end,
Forestalling sleep with torture!

Alma.
You forget!
Your father hated me—What progeny,
Except the serpent, should the serpent have?
You thwarted me!—Who would not push aside
The let that stood 'twixt his soul's wish and him?
Your sister drove me mad with love, and spurn'd me!

Alas.
You never knew what love was!—Love!—What! love
A virtuous maiden, and, with no inclining
On her part towards thee, dare to violate
Even the gauze that veils her modest face?
He ne'er knew love—can never know—who knows not
Woman, unlapséd is, next to Heav'n, most sacred!
Say that the man, who would profane her, loves her!
And if he does, brutes love as much as he!
You ne'er went mad with anything so holy!

Alma.
Why have you brought me to this place?

Alas.
To die!
That thou shouldst bring me to the pass, Almagro,
That makes me tell thee this!—me!—thy Alasco!
Thine even more, in cherishing, than ever
He was his own; whose brain, heart, body, limbs,
At any time sooner than for himself,
He had laid down for thee!—When a gaunt bear
Rush'd from a thicket towards thee, once, who lay,
Ere thou couldst wink, struggling upon the ground
'Twixt thee and him?—calling to thee to fly,
So all forgetful was he of himself,
Although entangled in the deadly hug
Of the fell monster? With my forest-knife
I saved this arm its blood,—so saving thee—
This arm, now nerved to kill thee!— [Drawing.]
—How can this be?
How has it come to pass?—Whence this blank wreck
Of love, so stanchly built, I could have sworn
The storm blew never yet could break it up!
Tell me!—for I am wild with wondering!

Alma.
I wonder too, but am not wild withal,
That thou shouldst wish to take thyself the life
Thou knowest to be forfeited.

Alas.
Why, who
So fit to be thy executioner?—
To fill the office whose revolting nature
Flesh creeps at so, its functionary sickens,
With loathing, those who only look upon him?—
Who, for an office so unnatural,
So fit, as such a trespasser 'gainst nature
As I am?—to a stranger to my blood
Who gave that trust, which to the source of it
I owed, but would not give!—Except for me,
Thou ne'er hadst laid my father on the rack;
'Twas I who gave thee power o'er his grey hairs,
I was his murderer as well as thou.
Of felons men make executioners!

Alma.
My blood be on thy soul, so shedd'st thou it!

Alas.
Almagro, I will shed it!—thou must bleed,
And by this hand; but I will use this hand
As it becomes a soldier and a man!—
Here is another sword!—This brave revenge
Breathed I the wish to take, I were prevented!
The meanest hind in Arragon would flout
The thought of honourable chastisement
To one so fallen as thou art,—but I hold it
A debt due to a father by his son,
And mean to pay it in full!—No further parley!
What is infirm in thee—as well I know,
But must not now cast thought to—overlook!
Come, guard thy life!—strike manfully at mine!
'Tis the last time its bane may prove thy safeguard!

Alma.
Hold yet a moment!—thou wouldst give me, sure,
Fair play! Thy weapon is the longer one!—

Alas.
Measure it!—There!

[Gives his sword to Almagro, who throws it away.
Alma.
Lo! thou who, now, so freely,
Wouldst shed Almagro's blood, and, boastingly,
Wouldst make a merit on't; look to thine own!
Not by Alasco's honourable sword,
Nor by the scaffold, shall Almagro die!
Such means am I provided with as scoff
At aught the executioner, or thou
Canst perpetrate against me. Mark, Alasco!
Almagro dies, but thou shalt die before him;
For in thy weakness, which I ever loath'd,
I see the bane that to this close has brought
My dearest hopes and me! Yet, ere I use
The vantage which thy trustfulness—I thank it
For the last time—has given me, it is fit
Thou know the full extent of what thou owest me.
Thou thought'st thy debt on the score of old Ruphino
Was large enough; but what will be thy wonder
When I shall tell thee thou mayst add to that
Another larger yet? Know then, Alasco—
Soon as the tide of fortune 'gan to ebb,
Sudden as it set in, and 'gainst the chance
Of aught which thou, and those in league with thee,
Could practise 'gainst me, I secured myself;—
By my contrivance did thy sister's dagger
Drink her own blood!

Alas.
Now let thy sword drink mine!
I will not swerve to avoid thee!—lift my arm
To hinder thee!—move so much as a finger!
I am a man the earth must loathe to bear!
All who live on't must loathe! who loathes himself!

Alma.
Loathe, as thou mayst, thyself, I loathe thee more.
An end to words, save such as deeds can speak.

[As Almagro is on the point of rushing upon Alasco, Omer discovers himself, and confronts him.
Omer.
An end to deeds of thine! Alasco lives—
Ruphino lives!—Olivia lives!—None dies
Except the Moor, and he but dies in name;
Dies, that the Prince—Alasco's brother, and
Ruphino's son—may live the husband of
Olivia! See! Wake from thy dreams of guilt,
Rouse thee!—and die.

[Pedro enters, conducting Velasquez, followed by Ruphino, Olivia, the King, &c.—Almagro drops his swords.
Alas.
My father!—sister!—Is it reality?

Olivia.
It is, Alasco! Thanks to the gracious prince,
Whose love for me transform'd him, thus, and brought
To Saragossa, where he counted on
Concealment from a friend—my tongue refuses
To rate him less—who, though of calling harsh,
He knew to be of kindly heart and true.

Alas.
[To the Prince.]
What shall I say to thee?

Prince.
Call me thy brother!

King.
As hence, thy sister I shall call my child!

Alma.
[Aside.]
Destroy'd by those I deem'd my instruments!
Frustrated in revenge, in love, and hate!
What fair set-off 'gainst such discomfiture?
The gibbet cheated, or the block, or wheel!
Could we cheat Heaven!—No circumventing there!
What's this I see?—Instead of the huge World,
A film; and what before was shadowy,
The World to come, condensing into vast
Enormous substance, insupportable
To thought! The drug asserts its potency!
This is the death-sweat that bedews my palms,
My forehead and my lip, and like a cold
And slimy serpent, coiling round my frame,
With its loathed folds, my very marrow chills.

King.
What man is he, that yonder stands and lives,
Yet seems in mortal agony?

Alas.
Almagro.

King.
What!—he?—then has he look'd upon the sun
For the last time!—The rack shall deal with him.
No death-bed half so fit. Let's leave him to it.

[Going.
Alas.
Oh no, my liege!

King.
Thou wouldst not plead for him!
Up! up! thy knee rebels, young man, to bend
'Gainst nature!—justice!—Earth and Heaven, themselves,
To supplicate for him whom they condemn!
Against thy father's life thou makest suit,
Against thy sister's honour—not to name
The wrong he meditated 'gainst thyself!
Forbear, young man. Why hang you thus your head,
And still the posture keep that casts it down?
What would you ask for?

Alas.
Time for penitence.
A month! Well, then, a week! If not a week,
A day! Between the attempt, sir, and the act
There is a difference; so should there be
Between the pains with which we visit them.
The crimes he dies for were not perpetrated;
No victim calls for retribution.
Spare him!—spare him! We were boys together.
Howe'er it changes with us on life's road,
The sunny start all intervals breaks through,
And warms us with the olden mood again!
The hearty laugh of youth is in mine ear,
And there stands he, who shared it with me; now
A woful bankrupt; while the rich possessions
I counted lost, are all my own again.
I can't forbear. Say that I hold my tongue,
My eyes will speak; you see they do without;
And for the playmate's sake implore thee spare
The man, although a weak and guilty one!

King.
Against my judgment does my heart give way,
Corrupted by your tears. His life is yours:
Do with it what you list!

Alas.
It shall be spared.
An exile shall he live to die in penitence!
Almagro!

Pedro.
Hush! He dies by poison, sir!
I know the signs. He makes a sudden end!
His spirit's gone—it fleeted with that groan!

Alas.
The pardon you permitted, Heav'n denies him!
Its justice and its mercy are its own!