University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A HALL IN THE ROYAL PALACE.
Enter the KING and his attendants, among whom is DON GUTIERRE, who advances.
GUTIERRE.
Pedro, the footsteps of whose throne
Are bathed by India's sun-bright sea,
Alone I wish to speak with thee.

KING
to his attendants, who retire.
Retire awhile: I am alone.

GUTIERRE.
Apollo of this Spanish zone—
Castilian Atlas, unto thee,
To whose strong shoulders, constantly
The mighty destiny is given
To bear the sapphire orb of heaven,
The diamond globe and pearly sea,—
To thee I come to lay the prize
Of life before thy feet, if I
Can call that life which seems to die
Each moment, stifled in my sighs—
Wonder not then, my lord, these eyes
Of mine are neither cold nor dry:
'Tis said that they whose bosoms prove
Worthy to feel the joys of love,
Or those of honour, still more deep—
Have the proud privilege to weep
Their sorrows, and no man reprove:—
Honour and love have both been mine—
Honour which I have always worn
As being a noble and well born;—
And love, which lately thou didst twine
My marriage, in those bonds of thine:
Thus rich by gain and inheritance,
I saw my happy days advance,
Till clouds that envied such a life,
Darken'd such splendour in my wife—
Such lustre in my confidence:—
But now my tongue can scarce evince
The cause of so much sorrow. Since
He against whom my wrong demands
Justice and rigour at thy hands,
Is your own brother—even the prince:—
Not that he may learn, dread sire,
That outraged honour in its ire
Knows not how to pause or cower,
Even in the regal front of power—
To him who feels that sacred fire
The bare conception will suffice:—
And so I hope by your advice
Life for my honour to procure,
And that prevention more than cure
May heal the anguish in a trice:—
For if I could, before I heal it,
From bad to worse increasing feel it,
Then would my wrath, in wilder mood,
Wash out the shameful stain in blood,—
And deep within the earth conceal it:—
Start not! the blood that I shall seek,
Must only trickle from this breast:—
Of Don Enrique be at rest—
On him no vengeance shall I wreak,—
Of that, this witness here shall speak—
This brilliant tongue of glittering steel—
This dagger which I now reveal,
Was his: ah! judge how safe is he,
When even his dagger trusts to me
The proud Infante of Castile!

KING.
Say no more, Don Gutierre,
For the man that Honour crowns
Every hour with never-vanquished
Garlands of respect and love,—
Garlands that in brightness rival
Even the rays of the sun—may live
Satisfied his honour......

GUTIERRE.
Do not,
Please your majesty, my lord,
Make me think that you imagine
I have need to be consoled
Ere my own good name I credit:—
Oh! I have a wife so honest,
Chaste and firm, she leaves behind
Roman Portia and Lucretia,
Scythian Thomyris: I ask
But precautions.

KING.
Still precautions
Prove some danger threatens near;
What then saw you, Gutierre?

GUTIERRE.
Nothing, since men formed as I
Do not see—enough they fancy,—
Dream, foreshadow, or suspect,
Feel some instinct—some divining—
Some......I know not what to say:—
For no word could give the meaning
Of what I have felt and feel—
Feelings that resemble atoms—
Too minute to analyze:—
I your majesty consulted,
But for this one cause alone—
To avoid a threatened evil,
Not an actual one to cure;
Had it happened, you may trust me,
I myself would have prescribed
Remedies, instead of asking
Tardy cures at others' hands.

KING.
Since you call yourself Physician
Of your Honour, Gutierre,
Tell me what remedial measures
Have you taken up to this?

GUTIERRE.
Not a jealous word I've uttered
To my wife, but every moment
Seemed to love her more and more.
In a sweet and peaceful villa
Some leagues off she lately lived:
Thinking that, perchance, the lonely
Place might have a sad effect,
I to Seville moved my household,
And she now resideth here,
Where she now no more need envy
Those who share its gaieties,
For harsh treatment and reproaches
Are but used by common husbands—
Who when they have told their insults
Lose all further fear of them.

KING.
The Infante hither cometh;
If he sees you here, 'tis certain
That he will from that discover
You have told me your complaints:
But I call to mind another
Day, when one in mournful accents
Made the like complaints of thee—
How behind some flowing curtains
I concealed on that occasion
Her who made me those complaints;
And as similar diseases
Call for corresponding treatment,
Let it be repeated here,
As with you I am desirous
Now to do what then I did;
But be sure let nothing tempt you
To come forth, whate'er is said.

GUTIERRE.
Oh! my lord, thus humbly bending,
At your royal feet I kneel:
I will be the bird depicted
With a pebble in its bill.

[Conceals himself.
Enter the Infante DON ENRIQUE.
KING.
Just in time you come, Enrique,
Evil though the time may prove,
Since you find me......

ENRIQUE,
aside.
Oh! I tremble!—

KING.
Full of wrath.

ENRIQUE.
My gracious lord!
Say with whom? what crime compels thee?

KING.
With yourself, Infante—you.

ENRIQUE.
Then my life will be unhappy
If the sun that was its glory
Leaves it dead in dark eclipse.

KING.
Are you not aware, Enrique,
More than once a sword has wash'd out
Private wrongs in royal blood?

ENRIQUE.
For what end, my lord, what purpose
Asks your majesty?

KING.
For you,
You yourself, it is I ask it:
Honour is a sacred place
Which the soul alone inhabits—
I am not the king of souls,—
Saying this I've said sufficient.

ENRIQUE.
Still I understand you not.

KING.
If your love shows no amendment,
From this very moment ceasing
Vain impracticable efforts
To obtain a certain beauty
Whom a noble vassal's bosom
Loves with lawful sovereign sway,
Not our mutual blood shall save you
From my justice and my wrath.

ENRIQUE.
Though, my lord, your slightest precept
Is a law your tongue impresses
On my heart, as if 'twere written
In the ever-during bronze—
Hear at least my exculpation.
Never should it be forgotten
That a judge's equal ears
Should be open to both parties:—
Yes, my lord, I loved a lady—
For I know of whom you speak,—
Loved her well on slight foundation—
In a word, my lord, I loved her
To the extent......

KING.
And what imports it,
If she is beyond thy reach?

ENRIQUE.
True indeed, but then......

KING.
Be silent.

ENRIQUE.
Will you not, my lord, permit me
Offer an excuse?

KING.
There's none,
Since she is a peerless beauty
Without blemish.

ENRIQUE.
Beyond doubt:
But as time doth conquer all things,
Love may triumph over all.

KING,
aside.
God! how badly have I acted
In concealing Gutierre!—
Silence! silence!—

ENRIQUE.
Oh! incite thee
Not against me, knowing not
What has driven me on to act so.

KING.
Nay, I know it all right well:—
What a terrible position!

[Aside.
ENRIQUE.
'Tis my right, my lord, to speak:
Yes, I loved her when a maiden—
Who by that is injured?—say,—
Ere a vassal......

GUTIERRE,
aside.
Ah! unhappy!

ENRIQUE.
Took this lady as his wife—
I......

KING.
You must not dare to tell me:
Silence! silence! since I know
You have feigned some wild chimera
Merely to excuse thy fault.—
Come Infante, come Infante,
Let us put an end to this—
Tell me, do you know this dagger?

ENRIQUE.
On returning to the palace
Late one night, I found that I
Had it not.

KING.
And then you know not
Where it was that it was lost?

ENRIQUE.
No, my lord.

KING.
I do: 'twere easy
Where 'twas found to have enstained it
With the best blood of your breast,
If he was not, he who found it,
The most true and loyal vassal
Ever owned by prince or king:—
See you not what noble vengeance
Seeks the man, who though offended
Thus surrenders arms and breast?
Do you see the gold inlaying
Of this dagger's glittering blade?
'Tis an hieroglyph that speaketh
Your offence; of you it comes
To complain, and I must hear it:—
Take its bright steel from the sheath
And look on it; there, Enrique,
You will see your faults.

ENRIQUE.
My lord,
Think, that in your wrath you treat me
So severely, that disturbed......

KING.
Take the dagger.
[Enrique takes the dagger, but in his confusion wounds the king's hand.]
Ah! what mean you,
Traitor?

ENRIQUE.
I?

KING.
What! with my blood
Will you thus your steel ensanguine?
Thou, the dagger which I gave thee
Wilt thou turn against my breast?
Do you then desire to kill me?

ENRIQUE.
Think, my lord, of what you say,
So confused am I......

KING.
So daring
Even to me?—Hold! hold, Enrique,
Turn its point away!—I die!

ENRIQUE.
Such a mournful misconception!—
It is best I now retire
And withdraw me from thy presence
Even for life, that you again
Ne'er may form the dread delusion
That I meant to shed thy blood:—
I a thousand times unhappy!

[Flings the dagger from him and exit.
KING.
Heaven defend me! what is this?
What intolerable terror!
Bathed I saw me in my blood—
Dead I seemed!—What dismal fancy
Darkly circled me around,
With its horror-folding phantoms,
And with icy weight lay heavy
On my frozen heart and soul!—
God I ask, that these beginnings
May not come to such an end,
That with bloody inundations
All the world be not amazed!

[Exit.
GUTIERRE,
advancing.
Such a wonder is this day!—
So made up of dread surprises,
It is but a trifling matter
That the king forgot me here,
Ah! what words were those that reached me?
But why speak then with the tongue,
When my wrong can be but measured
By the miseries of my life?—
Let me then tear up the hapless
Root of so much woe at once:—
Mencia must die, and purple
With her blood her bridal bed!—
And since now this fatal dagger
Gives to me, a second time,
The Infante, with this weapon
Must the fatal deed be done:
[Takes up the dagger.
But 'twere wrong to make it public,
Since I know that secrecy
Ever gains the proudest conquests,
And an outrage which is secret
Doth demand a like revenge:
Mencia indeed must perish,
But the cause must not be known—
Ere the fatal moment cometh,
Heaven in pity take my life!
That I may not see the tragic
End of so much hapless love!—
Why, transparent fields of azure,
Why reserve your lightning bolts?—
Is it not full time to hurl them
Down—with burning points transfixing
Him who'll thank thee for the stroke?—
Skies too tranquil and too cloudless,
Have ye not a death to give
To a being so unhappy?—
Not one flash for such a wretch?

[Exit.