University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

A Hall of Justice in the King's Palace.
Alphonso, Antonio and other Councillors arranged as for a Trial. Secretaries, &c., in attendance.
Alph.
Call forth the prisoner. Lords, for no slight purpose
Have I convened the Council of the State
In grave and full assemblage.
Enter Inez, guarded by Alvarez, &c.
Brief is the tale and sad. An old wise law,
Framed by a rightful King, my ancestor,
Whose reign was vexed by fierce, conflicting jars,
Decrees that she who, being a subject born,
Dare wed a Prince of Portugal, shall die
For that bold treason. A stern, awful law!
Unbloody yet, for till this fatal hour
None hath defied the deadly penalty.
There stands the first, the last. Inez de Castro,
Come forth! Cast off that shrouding veil! Disclose
Thy baleful beauty! There she stands whom Pedro
Claims for his wife, and claiming dooms to die.
It lies not in my office, lords, to judge
Her crime—fair, gentle wretch! Enough for me
To ratify your sentence.
Enter Manuel.
Now, Don Manuel,
Hast thou discovered these same witnesses
That Pedro spake of?

Man.
Sire, with honest gladness,
I answer there be none.

Alph.
How say'st thou?
None?

Man.
The story of these bridals is a feint
Even as I said, my liege—a feint of love!
St. Vincent's priests, I have seen and questioned them,
Deny the deed. Anselmo, with the Nuncio,
Came and departed, an Italian monk,
A Florentine; five weeks agone they left
Our shores, and he by this is safe at Rome,
Or home at Florence, wandering on mission,
Or pent within his cell: ye might as soon
Recall the last year's clouds as Father Anselm.
Whilst Monica Manrique, the sole witness
Of these alleged espousals, the good nurse
Of the fair Lady Inez, died last night.

Inez.
Alas! alas! poor Monica!

Alph.
Without
Confession?

Man.
Unconfessed, unquestioned, Sire.
Already wasted with long malady,
The venerable woman, when she heard
The tale of yesternight, sank down and died.

Inez.
Oh, I am fatal still to all I love!
To all who love me! My poor good old nurse,
That never met me but with tender smiles;
That never spake to me but words of cheer,
Sweet, gentle, hopeful words! And she is dead,
My good old nurse! Dead of a broken heart!
My lords, I pray ye pardon my fond tears,—
There's none left now to weep for me. Poor Monica!

Man.
She is at rest.

Inez.
Ay, better so than live
To hear, to speak, to tell that fatal story!
Heaven in its mercy took thee, Monica,
From that strong agony! Sirs, I am ready.

Man.
An' please you, lords, St. Vincent's priests denying
These nuptials, the monk gone, the woman dead,
What rests but ye declare the tale a frand,
A mockery, a legend, framed to serve
A lover's reckless purpose? What remains
But to the safe charge of Count D'Aguilar,
That noble Spaniard, or the holy keeping
Of the good Abbess of the Ursulines,
The lady be dismissed.

Ant.
In sooth, Don Manuel,
The charge lacks evidence. Have ye no witness?

Man.
None.

Inez.
Hold awhile. Say, were this union proved,
Stands Pedro's life in peril.

Ant.
Lady, no.

Inez.
None, save mine own?

Ant.
Not one.

Inez.
Then hear me, lords,
Hear me, great King, whilst by all sacred things,
By all that's holiest held on earth, in heaven,
By man's true faith, by woman's chastity,
By virgin martyrs, and bright, spotless saints,
I swear that I'm Don Pedro's wife.

Man.
Recall
Thy desperate words. Oh, lady! wherefore fling
Thy life away?

Inez.
Didst think that Inez weighed
Life against honour? or would outrage truth,
Stern, lofty, bold, uncompromising truth,
Even by silence? Go to, Sirs, your doom!
Be speedy.

Alph.
(Aside.)
A brave woman!

Inez.
Would ye know
If ye may believe me? Question Lady Constance,
Seek of Count d'Aguilar, and they will tell ye,
That Inez in her native Spain was known
A frank and virtuous maiden, loathing falsehood
As the brave loathe cowardice. Never, till love
And wifely duty held me in their bonds,
Bent I my nature to conceal a thought,
A feeling. I'm his wife! Mistrust me not
Albeit the state I claim be princely. Death
Walks at my side, my royal robe a shroud,
My canopy a coffin.

Alph.
(Aside.)
A brave woman!
Yet are we pledged to Constance. (Aloud.)
Good my lords,
She hath avowed enow. Pass to the doom.

Ped.
(Without.)
Make instant way! Who dares oppose me?

Alph.
Who,
With clamorous outcry, breaks upon our grave
And secret council?

Enter Pedro.
Ped.
Inez!

Alph.
Don Alvarez,
Gave we not order that thy men-at-arms
Should line the entrance?

Ped.
Did ye think with word
Or weapon to stay me? Ye might as soon
Turn back the Tagus to its source, or check,
With threats and blows, the ocean's flowing tide,
As bar me from my Inez. Yon weak guard!—
Why, had ye gates of steel, garrisons, armies,
Such as defend huge cities, I had won
Through all. Who may dare stop me? Is not this
The Palace of the King, and I his son?
Is not the Council met in full assemblage,
And I chief councillor? My place hath been
On the right hand of the throne, but now 'tis here.
Inez!—Proceed, my lords, I am your prisoner,
Partaker of the crime, and fixed to share
The punishment.—Inez, thy hand is cold;
Thou tremblest.

Inez.
Only now. Think not thy wife
Could tremble with base dread of man's brief power.
I had steeled my heart 'gainst harshness and reproach,
But not against thy pitying tenderness.
My Pedro, I have borne for thee all ills
That suffering woman may endure—grief, fear,
Suspicion, hatred, scorn; but thy true love
O'erpays them all. A short and troubled way
We have trod together. Here we part. Thy path
Leads, a broad sunny track, through fields of fame
To palaces and thrones, a kindling track
Of glory; mine a narrow, dark descent
To the lone house of rest, the silent grave.
Pr'ythee, begone!

Alph.
I counsel thee, retire—
Out of a fatherly love, I warn thee, Prince,
Retire.

Ped.
Here is my place.

Alph.
Arm thyself, then,
With stern endurance. Let not yon fair creature
Shame thee by her high constancy. Grave judges—

Ped.
Oh, mockery of words!—Nay, nay, proceed!
I cry you mercy! I'll be patient!

Alph.
Sir,
'Twere wiser. We sit here the instruments
And ministers of a time-hallowed law,
And heed no more a young man's furious speech,
Than doth yon citadel the angry north
That raves round its old buttresses. My lords,
Have ye prepared your sentence?

Ped.
What! already?
Without a trial? without a proof? without
A witness? Ye are murderers, Sirs, not judges.

Inez.
They had a Prince's word. Thou call'dst me wife,
My husband, my dear husband! And I—Chide not
That she whom thou hast loved, loves better pure
And spotless death than stained and sullied life,
I was the willing witness of my crime,
And willingly abide the penalty.

Ped.
If crime there be, I am the only guilty.
I saw and loved this fairest, loveliest;
I wooed—what coil of wooing ere I won
The coy, shy maid to listen to my tale!
What vows, and threats, and pleadings, and fond oaths
Ere she would own her love! Even to the altar
I bore, half-fainting, my scarce conscious bride.
She knew not your stern law. The carrier dove
That, following her nature's holy instinct,
Bears treasonous missives underneath her wing,
Is not more innocent of ill than Inez.
I am the only guilty, Pass your doom
On me.

Alph.
Again I warn thee, son, retire.
Is't death?

Man.
Alas!

Ped.
Death! I to die? The Prince?
Pedro of Portugal?

Ant.
Not so.

Ped.
Bethink ye
'Twere safer. Leave me living, and slay her!
Me, the avenger! Have ye children playing
Around your household hearths—fair girls, brave boys?
Have ye chaste wives? And dread ye not the vengeance
That I shall take for mine?

Man.
Alas! the law
Hath been defied, must be obeyed.

Ped.
And thou, too,
Thou that didst feign to love!

Man.
That would have saved,
That still may rescue her; so thou—

Ped.
Off with thee,
False flattering fiend! Father, thou wilt not sign
Yon bloody sentence? Stern although thou be,
Thou wilt not sign that sentence?

Inez.
Listen, Pedro,
To my last parting words.

Ped.
Talk not of parting—
The thought brings frenzy!

Inez.
Thou wilt never hear
My voice again, dear husband. Listen now,
And grant the first boon Inez ever craved
Of Pedro, the first boon, the last. Be patient,
Be gentle in thy grief, for thou wilt grieve—
I know thou wilt—but meekly, peacefully.
Defile not honest love with black revenge;
Quell thy wild anger; fight against despair
As 'gainst a foe in arms; live for thy country;
So shall men say 'twas no ignoble woman
Who woke that hallowed passion. Now farewell!
I'll spare thee, Sire, the utterance of my doom:
'Tis death.

Ped.
Oh, never! never!

Inez.
Death! and when?

Ped.
Oh, father, hold thy hand! He hath signed.

Alph.
Don Manuel,
Break up the council. Lead the prisoner forth.
At seven to-morrow.

[Exeunt Inez, guarded, Manuel, Antonio, Alvarez, &c; Alphonso is going, but is called back by Pedro, and the King and Prince only remain on the Stage.
Ped.
Father! Go not, father!
Return! return! I'd speak with thee.

Alph.
What wouldst thou?
The council is dismissed; the sitting o'er;
The mighty business closed.

Ped.
Ay, like the grave,
The dark, deep, silent grave. Sir, I would change
A few calm words with thee—Fear not my rashness—
Words that may suit the time; sad as a dirge,
Slow as a knell, brief as a tombstone; calm
And reverend words.

Alph.
Well, well, I'll stay with thee.
Yet wherefore—

Ped.
Wherefore! Dost thou ask? the doom
Still trembling on thy lips; the ink still wet
On that accursèd and accursing scroll,
Which sends yon martyred innocent to share
The death of traitors. But she shall not die!
My Inez shall not die! Dost hear me, father?
She shall not die! She shall not die!

Alph.
Alas!
The doom must be fulfilled. But I will hear thee;
Will stay beside thee in thy grief; will bear
My part in this great misery. Thou wouldst speak with me—
I had rather listen to thy wildest words
Than see thee sobbing there in mute despair.
Speak, my dear son.

Ped.
Inez! Release her! pardon her!
Inez!

Alph.
The fiat hath gone forth; but if in aught
Beside my power can stead thee—

Ped.
The wide world
Hath nought for me but Inez. Thou art a King,
And Kings can pardon. Thou art a man, and men
Are merciful. Save her! By thine old love,
If ever thou didst love me, father, save her!

Alph.
If I did love thee! Why, from the first hour
When thy fair mother placed thee in my arms,
With such a gush of joy, thou hast been my hope,
My pride, my idol. If I loved thee! Pedro,
How often in thy tender infancy,
Have I stolen to thy couch, sleepless myself
Till I had blest my sleeping boy! How oft
Watched thee in sickness; fondled thee in health;
Laid by my state to be thy playmate; cast
The careful thoughts of busy man aside
To share thy childish pastimes; trimmed thine arrows;
Shot at the mark with thee, rode at the ring,
Veiling my strength and skill to a slim stripling,
Triumphing in his triumphs!—If I loved thee!—
And now, at first sight of a baby face
And a trim shapely form, that careful love
Of twenty years is swept as lightly off
As a dead leaf in autumn.

Ped.
Father!

Alph.
An' thou have heirs,
And dote as I have done, look thou to find
Like gratitude. The care of twenty years
Flung by for a slight girl! Take heed thou pray not
For sons; they'll prove avengers.

Ped.
Father! father!
Hast thou ne'er loved? My mother—

Alph.
Was a Princess,
The daughter of a King. The very sound
Should thrill thee like a trumpet-blast, a call
To duty and to honour! We are Princes
Born to inherit thrones, to fill a page,
Ay, and a proud one, in that book of Fame,
History, to outlast the palaces we build,
The tongue we speak, to lend an age its name,
A realm its glory. Pedro, thou wast once
Ambitious. Is the noble fire extinct
Within thy breast? or lies it smouldering there,
Till some bold breath shall fan it into flame?
Thine was a soaring spirit. Listen, Pedro,
And thou shalt have the fame thou covetedst
With an immoderate lust, in such a heaped
And piled abundance, that great Ammon's son
Had cried “Enough!”

Ped.
Once like a trumpet call
Thy voice had stirred me. I am a woman now
With grieving. One thought burns within my breast,
One only.

Alph.
Hearken! Wed Castille's fair sister;
Lead our commingled power before Granada;
Defy the Moor; conquer the unconquered seat
Of his proud reign, the bright Alhambra; chase
The Infidel from Christendom, and win
A name at which the glories of the Cid
Shall fade, as a star before the sun. Go to,
Art thou a soldier and a knight, and fires not
Thy blood at this brave vision?

Ped.
Give me Inez,
And with our own bold Portugals I'll drive
Spaniard and Moor before me, like the deer
Before the hunter.

Alph.
Sir, thy hand is pledged
To Constance.

Ped.
Inez is my wife, my true
And faithful wife; betrayed by my rash love
To misery unspeakable; a prisoner
A sad, forlorn, and desolate prisoner, doomed
To swift and bloody death. Now, by St. Michael!
He were no knight that could forsake a woman
Whom he had brought into such perilous strait.

Alph.
Thyself hast heard her sentence.

Ped.
Thou'lt not save her?

Alph.
I cannot.

Ped.
Say thou wilt not.

Alph.
Calm thee, son.
I pity thee, and therefore bear with thee,
But she must bide her doom. The King's high duty
Shall be fulfilled; howbeit, the Prince—

Ped.
Away
With that vain word, which bars me from the right,
The common right and heritage of nature,
From human joys and human sympathies.
Off idle trappings! Now I am a man!
I own no title now but Inez' husband,
No gaud but my good sword. Come forth, bright weapon!
True men have said that I could wield thee well—
But none e'er saw me fight for her. Sweet wife,
If there be hearts and arms in Portugal,
I'll save thee yet.

Alph.
Be calmer.

Ped.
Calmer! Preach
To the forked lightning, the fierce ocean-storm;
And when thou hast quelled them, then strive to tame
Me and my strong despair. Dost think to slay
Inez whilst Pedro lives? Seize, bind, enchain,
Imprison; lay me in deep dungeons, far
Below the lowest mark of ebbing tides,
Or cage me on the dizzy top of steep
And mountain fortresses, chain me to rocks,
Tie me upon wild horses, yet I'll burst
All bonds to rescue her! Ay, though the throne,
The palace, the thronged city, the whole nation
With its vast mass of quick and sentient life,
Friends, fellow-soldiers, kinsfolk, countrymen,
Should in the heaving throes of that wild earthquake
That great convulsion perish.

Alph.
She must die.
Thou shouldst have better known thy father, Pedro,
Than to try threats when prayers and tears had failed.
I fear thee not. For yonder prisoner, she
Must bide her doom.

Ped.
Tyrant! When next I come,
Tremble!

Alph.
She must abide her doom.

[Exeunt separately.