 | Inez de Castro |  |
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ACT I.
SCENE I.
A Splendid Hall of Audience in the King's Palace at Lisbon; a Throne in the Centre of the Stage.Antonio, Garcia, and Alvarez, meeting in Front; Courtiers and Attendants entering and passing in the Background.
Alv.
Good morrow, Don Antonio. Noble Garcia,
A fair good morrow. Ye are early.
Gar.
Sir,
We wait the King's commands.
Ant.
'Tis like to prove
A stirring day.
Alv.
A day of stirring mirth,
I grant ye. First to ride with the fair Princess
And her fair train to Setuval's green wood,
To chase the spotted deer; then speeding back,
Haste to the royal banquet at the palace.
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Seems to a soldier pleasant idleness;
However, a grave councillor may shrink
From the loud din of revelry.
Ant.
Thou'lt hear
Afore the mirth begins, a louder din,
And of a ruder nature. Know'st thou not,
Alvarez, that last night Count d'Aguilar
Arrived at Lisbon with an urgent message
From Philip of Castille?
Alv.
To press the nuptials
Betwixt Don Pedro and his sister?
Ant.
That
Ye'll know anon. The King receives him here.
Alv.
The ambassador will scarce find fitting welcome
From our wild Prince. He better loves to chase
Swift stag, or white-tusked boar, or to pursue
The noble sport of war, and drive the bold
And tawny Moor before his conquering hosts,
Than to lie basking in a lady's smiles
In our soft orange-groves.
Ant.
I know not that.
Certain he loves not Constance.
Alv.
Yet is she
A stately beauty.
Gar.
Her young handmaid Inez
Is fairer.
Ant.
So Don Manuel thinks. These girls
Of Spain have made strange havoc 'midst the wits
Of our staid Court. I speak not of such gallants
As ye, whose hearts be light as shuttlecocks
From beauty tossed to beauty; but Don Manuel,
The wise and powerful minister, that he
Should sigh for a young maid, and sigh in vain,
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Alv.
Thou lov'st them not, Antonio.
Ant.
My worst wish
Is that they were safe wedded, or safe home.
Gar.
The King!
Enter Alphonso, Manuel, and other Lords. The King seats himself on the Throne, Manuel standing near.
Alph.
(To different Attendants.)
Admit the Lord Ambassador.
Say to Don Pedro we require his presence.
(To Manuel.)
Count d'Aguilar, I think?
Man.
The same, my liege;
A brave and noble Spaniard.
Alph.
Hast thou seen him?
Man.
But for a moment, Sire.
Alph.
These nuptials surely—
And that hot boy—He comes.
Enter D'Aguilar, attended.
Now, good my lord,
How fares our loving brother in the Faith,
King Philip of Castille?
D'Ag.
My royal master
Commends him to your Highness in all love
And nobleness; and prays—
Enter Pedro, behind.
Sire, is the Prince
Don Pedro here? Mine errand touches him
As nearly as thyself; since on his union
With our fair Lady Constance hangs the weal
Of either kingdom. Is Don Pedro here?
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(Advancing.)
Ay, to his sorrow. Say whate'er thou wilt,
But what thou wilt, say quickly. Kingdoms, bridals,
Grave state-craft, and light love! Why, we are bound
To the forest, man! the dew lies on the grass;
The air is fresh and moist; our hounds to-day
Will track their quarry well. Come, and I'll show thee
Our woodsman's mysteries. Keep thy dull lessons
For duller seasons, sober afternoons,
Or days of State processions of Court banquets;
This is a morn made for the merry chase—
Come with me to the forest?
D'Ag.
Sire—
Alph.
For once
Chain thy wild humour, son. Count D'Aguilar,
Disclose thy message.
D'Ag.
Have I not already
Disclosed its purport? Good my liege, my message
Needs no interpreter. There's not a man
In this fair presence or this populous land,
But, ere a word be spoken, reads right well
Mine errand; knows that I stand here to claim
Instant fulfilment of the solemn league
Betwixt Castille and Portugal; the treaty,
Planned by wise statists, drawn by learned lawmen,
Signed by two mighty sovereigns, hailed and blest
By the universal people, whose chief clause
Binds Don Alphonso's warlike son to wed
Don Philip's beauteous sister. The fair Princess,
Reposing on the sacred faith of nations,
And that great bond of honour, a King's word,
Came at your bidding, full of loyal trust,
To meet and to espouse her plighted lord;
But he—
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I was in Africk, as the Moors,
The brave who fell, the base who fled, can witness.
Ask the white bones that strew the sands of Fez,
The nimble slaves that shrouded them in Oran,
And they will be my answer. I knew nothing
Of thee or of thy treaty,
D'Ag.
But ye are still
Unwedded! Months have passed—I fear to count
How many, lest the simple sum should seem
Too deep reproach—since conqueror from Africk
Don Pedro came; and still they are unwed;
And therefore sends Don Philip to demand—
Ped.
Demand! demand! Why, father, dost thou hear?
Count D'Aguilar, speaking in the great name
Of Philip of Castille, demands—Dost mark me?—
Demands of King Alphonso prompt obedience
To his high will! Since when is Portugal
Don Philip's tributary, or her King
His slave?
Man.
So please your Highness, you misconstrue
The Lord Ambassador. He claims obedience
Not to his King's behest, but to the power
Of a signed treaty, to the honoured name
Of Don Alphonso, to the faith of kings,
The general weal of nations. 'Tis in friendship
To Portugal's great princes that he seeks
An instant union.
Ped.
That he comes with threats,
Reproaches, and defiance, to compel
Such union, to demand—
Alph.
Sirs, ye forget
The presence where ye stand. Thou, whose wild will
And hot impatience break with hasty clamour
The message of Castille; and thou, usurping
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D'Ag.
That which I come to sue, or to demand,
If the sound better please his Highness' ear,
Is a prompt answer. It stands in his choice
To annul or ratify this high alliance.
Don Pedro, wilt thou wed the lady?
Ped.
No!
I tell thee no, Sir Count! Didst ever hear
A brave man yield compliance to a threat?
No! 'Tis a short word and of easy speech—
However new to courtier's utterance—
A brief and homely message; 'twill not burthen
Thy memory, or perplex thee with nice terms,
Or dainty phrases. Tell King Philip, No!
A bold and manly No!
D'Ag.
Then must grim war—
Ped.
War! Said he war? Why, since the Moor was quell'd—
How long is that, Alvarez?—we have lain
In lazy peace. My armour 'gainst the wall
Hangs rusting; my good sword almost forgets
My unaccustomed hand. Talk'st thou of war?
Oh! for a three days' ride in fair Castille,
I and my chivalry! Our pennons waving
On your proud hills, our lances glittering bright
In your hot sun, and your rich pastures ploughed
By the quick trampling of our barbed steeds!
Oh! for a three days' ride in fair Castille,
To meet King Philip man to man, or one
To two, or with my knights alone to vanquish
His kingdom's power! Reproached and threatened, I
Pedro of Portugal! and he a King
Of flocks and herds! Thou hast my answer:—No!
A bold and honest No!—What ho! Give order
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I'll mount him there.—Say to King Philip, No!
[Exit Pedro.
D'Ag.
A grievous answer! Sire, with a sad heart
Yet a most constant spirit, slow to offend,
But quick to punish insult, my great master—
Alph.
Hold, my good Lord Ambassador! Restrain
The rash defiance, which upon thy lips
Sits hovering. Give't no utterance. There be words
A King upon his throne may never hear
And pardon.
D'Ag.
Yet Don Pedro, Sire—
Alph.
Don Pedro!
Why 'tis a gallant of as wild a temper
As the unbroken Barbary steed, which he,
And only he can rein; chafing at spur
Or curb; hot, fiery, dangerous; but withal
The noblest offspring of a noble race,
My brave and princely son. Somewhat to-day
Hath waked his fiercer mood; but I am King,
And never subject better knew the awe
That waits that word than Pedro. Hear my answer
To thy proud message. Thy rash threat I cast
Unheeded from me. Needless 'twere to say
How little we fear war; our valiant people
And our thrice valiant son bear victory
On their spear-tops. We are in war so strong,
That we may calmly own our love of peace,
And frankly tell to Philip's messenger
How dear we hold the alliance of King Philip.
Have we not Paynim foes, that we should fight
Our Christian brethren? Be we not neighbours, Count,
And should we not be friends? A mountain path,
A wandering brook divide, and join our lands:
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Throws its broad shadow on your pleasant Spain,
And the wild goat that browses on the hill
Unconsciously bestrides the invisible line
That war would trace in bloody charactery.
Say to thy monarch that Alphonso's honour
Is pledged to their high treaty; point by point,
And clause by clause; his honour and his crown
Are pledged to their fulfilment. For these nuptials,
Rest in our Court awhile an honoured guest,
And thou thyself shalt give the queenly bride
To her bold bridegroom. Nay, this is no time
For answer. To the woods, my lords! Thou'lt ride with us,
Count D'Aguilar? The Princess and her train
Are bound to Setuval. We'll show thee sport,
My Lord Ambassador.
D'Ag.
I wait your Highness.
Alph.
We'll summon thee anon. Come, good Antonio!
[Exeunt Alphonso, Antonio, Garcia, Alvarez, and other Lords.
Manuel and D'Aguilar remain.
Man.
A moment, D'Aguilar?
D'Ag.
Now for a shrewd
And subtle supplement to the smooth speech
Of the smooth King! Fair-seeming praise of peace,
And soft persuasive prayers to bide awhile
Amongst ye!
Man.
That is sure already.
D'Ag.
Sure!
What hinders but I bear Don Pedro's insults
To Philip's Court? What hinders but I hurl
A brave defiance in his teeth?
Man.
Thy duty.
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A truce 'twixt Christian nations, when the Moor,
Thine old hereditary foe stands watching
Before thy gates; and for a word, a sound
That perished in the utterance, a breath
Instantly mingled with the common air!
Thou art too wise, my Lord Ambassador.
D'Ag.
Yet were I hot as this mad Prince of thine—
Man.
Why there again! a soldier held as rude
As winds in March, as boisterous as the waves
That chafe the Atlantic sea.
D'Ag.
'Tis pity of him;
More fortunate captain, or more valiant knight.
Ne'er rode against the Moor.
Man.
A valiant knight;
A very fortunate captain. He would find
Scant greeting from King Philip that provoked
A strife 'twixt him and Pedro.
D'Ag.
And withal
A man of a rare presence. Never saw I
In court or camp a statelier gentleman
Or one of nobler bearing. A man moulded
To win a lady's eye.
Man.
True! true!
D'Ag.
And yet,
Now in his very May of life, to shun
A youthful beauty, flying to the woods
To shield him from fair woman. Strange!
Man.
Most strange,
An' the Prince shunned all women.
D'Ag.
Ha!
Man.
The Princess
Came not alone.
D'Ag.
What mean'st thou?
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D'Aguilar,
I am not of them to whom men bring loose tales
Of wanton dalliance or court scandal, light
And idle as the wind. Men dare not pour
Into my graver ear the trifling talk
That triflers love. Yet I have heard a tale
Of Pedro and a Spanish maid—
D'Ag.
Of whom?
Man.
Hearken! When first the Prince returned from Africk,
As duly day by day he sought the Palace,
Where, with her maiden train, fair Constance dwells,
As ever pilgrim bent at saintly shrine
In blest performance of some pious vow.
D'Ag.
Goes he not now?
Man.
Now at untimely hours,
Deep midnight or by the pale light of dawn
He hovers round the walls.
D'Ag.
And ye suspect—
Man.
Watch, mark and judge. The King, who holds suspicion
The monarch's vice, as I the statesman's virtue,
Disbelieves, or says he disbelieves, the tale;
Yet every hour with more intense desire
Urges Don Pedro's marriage with the Princess.
Press on these bridals, D'Aguilar, and serve
Two kings, two kingdoms. Press these bridals, Count.
D'Ag.
Another! There's but one could vie with Constance.
Thou dost not deem them wedded?
Man.
No. A law,
An old wise law, part of our very state,
Declares that whoso, being a subject born,
Native or alien, weds the kingdom's heir
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D'Ag.
She hath still been held a chaste and virtuous lady.
Man.
She wears his gifts. The jewelled attaghan
Plucked from dead Hamet on the sands of Fez,
A boy-like weapon fit for maids or boys,
Reposes in her girdle. Sportive gift,
And open; but as some blest talisman
Doth Inez wear that dagger. Mark her, Count!
She hath nor eye nor ear for any man
Save Pedro. Mark him well; he hath nor look
Nor word save for fair Inez.
D'Ag.
Why 'twas rife
At our Castillian Court that thou thyself
Didst woo—
Man.
Think not of me; watch him. Even now
His horses wait him at the Alcantara
That he may pass her palace gate, and catch
One glance of that rare beauty, or one sound
Of that sweet voice, or breathe but the same air
That hath fanned her fair cheek. Go! mark them well,
And press these bridals, Count; be sure thou press
These bridals.
D'Ag.
I'll not fail.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Garden.Enter Pedro and Inez.
Ped.
Nay, stay thy steps, my Inez. We are here
Safe from surprisal, sweetest. Why, I found thee
Far from the house, alone. What eye should trace us
In the green labyrinth of these garden bowers?
Gaze not around so fearfully.
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Art sure
None saw thee leap the wall?
Ped.
Full sure.
Inez.
That none
Will miss—Where waits thy train?
Ped.
On the Alcantara,
Steed, squire, and page.
Inez.
Have they no guess?
Ped.
Not one;
Unless my Barbary steed, who with quick instinct,
Soon as he feels his master on his back,
Turns hitherward unguided. Thou art trembling
Like a bird newly caged.
Inez.
Here in broad day!
Ped.
There is no danger, sweet. This fear of thine
Casts a dark shadow o'er our meeting joys.
Whom dost thou dread?
Inez.
All that surround me, Pedro.
Oh! there is doubt amongst them, jealous doubt;
And they regard me with stern angry eyes,
Or cold averted looks; they speak to me,
When speak they must, in brief and formal phrase,
Or with proud scornful silence pass me by.
I, that bore once the gayest, lightest heart
Of that fair maiden court; the favourite
Of Constance, yet, although the favourite, loved
Of all her train; the merriest heart alive,
Commending my quick fancies to the air
As a young tree its blossoms; I am now
A lonely, moping wretch in these gay bowers,
Of all rejected; shunned as the plague-spot
Of sin were on me, or the Church's ban.
Ped.
Now foul befall their envious hearts! My Inez,
A day shall come—
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And thou! Think if they saw thee!
There's not a bird stirs on the tree, or flower
Drops from its stalk, but seems to me some espial
Of Constance. Pr'ythee hence! Why cam'st thou, Pedro?
Pr'ythee away!
Ped.
I came to warn thee, love.
I have seen Count D'Aguilar.
Inez.
When? where?
Ped.
Even now,
Within my father's palace.
Inez.
Well? Thou hast seen him—
Ped.
And he—
Inez.
Suspects he? Knows he?
Ped.
Calm thee, Inez.
Inez.
I am calm. And he?
Ped.
Pressed sternly this state union.
Now, by St. Michael, had they with like chidings
Urged me to marry thee, with like contempt
I had refused
Inez.
Alas! that fiery temper!
Ped.
Nay, but for once 't hath done good service, dear one:
For my rash anger hath enforced a pause
In their demand, an unsuspected pause.
There is no danger, so that thou betray not
Our secret. Therefore came I, love, to pray
That thou wouldst shield thee with fresh vows against
Such peril. Swear!
Inez.
Have I not sworn?
Ped.
But vow
Once more. I doubt I know not what: the Princess;
The King; the Ambassador; and most of all,
The wily Manuel.
Inez.
Would it pleasure thee,
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Of my small weapon, thy first gift, my bright
And precious attaghan? What need of oaths
When 'tis thy will! But I have sworn, and dearly
Will I redeem that vow. Now haste away!
Pr'ythee begone, dear Pedro! and chain thou
Thine own rash mood.
Ped.
I will be gentle, sweet,
Even as thyself; or as the fabled lion,
Tamed, reined, and guided by the young boy, Love.
Inez.
Beseech thee, loiter not.
Ped.
Come with me, then,
To yonder bower, where thou, unseen, may'st see
My safe escape; may watch me till I back,
My peerless steed. Mine Inez, come with me!
Forget these griefs, and think of the blest hour
When love shall know no fear. Sweet Inez, come!
[Exeunt.
END OF ACT I.
| Inez de Castro | |