University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

THE MOORISH CADI'S HOUSE IN GRANADA.
A crowd of Moorish men and women are discovered on the stage, dressed in their national costume, the former with their peculiar head-dress and loose trousers, the latter in white doublets; some of them carrying musical instruments. To them
Enter the CADI and ALCUZCUZ.
CADI.
Are the doors securely fastened?

ALCUZCUZ.
Yes, the doors are quite secure.

CADI.
Let none in without the password,
And the zambra may proceed;
Let us celebrate our sabbath,
Which is Friday, in the way
That our nation loves to keep it,
That the Christian race, among
Whom we live in wretched thraldom,
May have no excuse to-day,
To revile or reprehend us
For our sacred rite.

ALL.
Begin!

ALCUZCUZ.
I will break my legs to splinters,
When I enter into the dance!

A MOOR
sings.
Although in sad captivity,
Through Allah's righteous mystery,
The Moorish race weep bitterly
The wretched breath they draw,—

ALL.
Long live his law!—

ANOTHER
sings.
Live the memory of the glorious
And the laurel-crowned laborious
Battles, when o'er Spain victorious,
Her captive form we saw,—

ALL.
Long live his law!—

ALCUZCUZ
sings.
Live the memory of brave Muza,
And that fight in Andalusa,
When old Spain could not refuse a
Welcome to stout Africa,—

ALL.
Long live his law!—

[A loud knocking is heard within.
CADI.
What is this?

ONE.
They force an entrance.

CADI.
Doubtless they desire to seize us
In our meetings, since the king
Has commanded by his edicts
That we should be watched; the law,
Seeing to this house repairing
Such a crowd of Moors, comes hither
In pursuit.

ALCUZCUZ.
Then let us fly:—

CADI.
Why, my friends, delay to open
Unto him who calls so boldly?

ALCUZCUZ.
Vainly knocks he at the door,
Who knocks not at the heart before.

ONE.
What is to be done?

CADI.
Concealing
All the instruments, then open,
Saying, that 'twas but to see me
You came here.

ANOTHER MOOR.
A good excuse.

CADI.
Let us therefore all dissemble,—
Alcuzcuz! fly, what delays you?

ALCUZCUZ.
Why, the door I fear to open,
Lest a hundred blows of the cudgel
I should get upon the stomach
From the alguazil: 'twere wrong,
Since they call me a Jack-pudding,
Whacks, not pudding, I should get.

Enter DON JUAN MALEC.
MALEC.
Do not fear.

CADI.
My lord Don Juan!
Whose pure blood of Malec gives you
Still the magisterial rank
In the city of Granada,
Though of African descent,
Can it be, my lord, you enter
Thus my house?

MALEC.
No small occasion
Makes me seek you here to-day:—
'Tis enough to say, that hither
Draws me now mine own disgrace.

CADI,
aside.
'Tis no doubt to reprehend us
That he comes.

ALCUZCUZ,
aside.
Oh! that is naught,—
Which were worse, to apprehend us
Or to reprehend us, pray?

CADI.
What are your commands?

MALEC.
Abandon,
All of you, my friends, the fear
That my coming has occasioned;
Entering to-day the council,
We received a missive, sent
From the chamber of King Philip,
By the president himself,
To the end, that all the mandates
It imposes, should forthwith
By the city be effected:—
Being opened, the official
Secretary of the council
Read it with uplifted voice,
And the whole of the instructions
It contained, at once were ordered,
To your greatest wrong: How truly
Call they Time and Fortune twins!
Since the two, for good or evil,
On one wheel and with two pinions
Ever move and never stay!
Of the orders thus transmitted,
Some are old and some are new,
All of them revived or written
In a spirit most malign;
The effect of which is briefly,—
That no African, or one
Sprung from that renownéd nation,
Which to-day is but the ashes
Of that once unconquer'd flame
Which devoured this Spain: henceforward
Can their festivals observe—
Hold their zambras—wear silk dresses—
Use the public baths—or speak,
Even in their private dwellings,
In their own Arabic language—
But the strange Castilian tongue.
I, from being the most agéd
Of the members present, thought
That it was my right and duty
To speak first, and so I said,
That however just the edict,
And how wise the end might be,
So that all the Moorish customs,
One by one might disappear,—
That however was no reason
For the harshness now imposed,
And that if the law proceeded,
In the case, with moderation,
Needless violence avoiding,
All these customs soon might fail.
Then Don Juan de Mendoza,
He who is allied so closely
To the house of the great Marquis
De Mondéjar, thus replied:—
“Not impartially, Don Juan
Speaketh thus, since nature prompts him
To espouse his kindred's cause;
Therefore would he stay and lighten
This just judgment on the Moors,—
A base, degraded, abject people!”—
“My lord Don Juan de Mendoza,”
Said I then, “when Spain was held
Captive, 'neath the Moorish standards,
Even on its native soil,
Even then some Christians mingled
With the Arabs, who since then,
From this cause, are called Mozarabs,
Unto whom no degradation
Or no infamy hath come,
For to no such height of glory
Fortune rises, not even when
It subdues and conquers evils,
As when it doth bear them well.
And however poor and humble
Be a crushed and captive people—
Moorish cavaliers are not
Less than Christian knights, the moment
They receive baptismal water,
And admission to the one
Holy Catholic religion;
And especially among them
Those who claim to have, as I,
Kings for their progenitors:”—
“Aye,” said he, “but Moorish kings:”—
“What!” I answer'd, “is the Moorish
Blood that mantleth in the veins
Of the Zegris and Granadas,
The Valores and Venegas—
Is it, I repeat, bereft
Of its rich and royal nature,
Now that they are Christian men?”
Thus one word produced another,
Since, there meeting without swords,
They could speak and I should listen;
Oh! accurséd be the chance!
Thrice accurséd the occasion!
That instead of swords, we fought with
Clashing disputatious tongues,
Though they are the deadlier weapons,
Since wounds heal before a word:
Something here I must have added,
Which increased his arrogance,
For (I tremble to relate it!)
He then snatching (oh! the pain!)
Out of my hands my staff of office,
With it..... oh! enough! enough!
Since some sorrows cost us greater
Pain to tell than to endure.
Now this outrage which I suffered
In defending you, this wrong,
Which, your natural rights sustaining,
I alone endured, doth reach
Every one of us united:—
For I have no son, whose hand
Might remove this foul dishonour
From these thin and snow-white hairs;
I have but a daughter—she,
Once my joy but now my sorrow:—
Well, then, brave and noble Moors—
Precious relic of our nation—
Since the Christians' only object
Is to make our whole race slaves—
Since we hold the Alpujarra—
That sierra, which so proudly
Lifts its tall head to the sun—
And with towns all peopled over,
Seems a sea of rocks and plants,
With its fortresses like vessels
Sailing over silver waves;
Which their very names—Galera,
Berja, and Gabia say:—
Since this tract is ours, then hither
Let us fly with arms and stores;
Choose a chieftain from the ancient
And unblemished noble race
Of your own Abenhuméyas,
Since Castile preserves them still,
And thus turn from slaves to masters.
I myself, though dear 'twill cost me,
Will go round, convincing all,
That 'tis infamy—'tis baseness
To partake in my disgrace
And partake not in my vengeance.

[Exit.
CADI.
For the deed thou meditatest....

A MOOR.
For the action that you plan....

CADI.
Life and wealth I freely offer.

[Exit.
A MOOR.
I can give but life and soul.

[Exit.
ANOTHER MOOR.
Every Moorish man will do so.

[Exit.
A MOORISH WOMAN.
I, for all the Moorish women
That Granada doth contain,
Offer all our silks and jewels.

ALCUZCUZ.
I who've but a little store
Of odds and ends in Bivarambla—
Vinegar, sweet figs and oil—
Almonds, raisins, garlic, pepper,
Ribbons, onions, nuts, and brooms
Made of the palm-tree, threads and needles,
Pouches, paper white and brown,
Caraways, dogs' leather collars,
Snuff, tobacco, sticks and twigs,
Quills for making pens, and wafers
To seal letters—all must I
Now upon my shoulders carry
With a thousand other trifles;
Just to see if fortune reaches
To the summit of my hopes,
That is, of all the Alcuzcuzes
To be marquis, duke, or count:—

A MOOR.
Silence! you are mad.

ALCUZCUZ.
I am not
Mad.

ANOTHER MOOR.
If not, the thing is clear
That you're drunk.

ALCUZCUZ.
Nor drunk, sir, thank you:—
Since Mahomet, our great prophet,
Ordered in his Alcoran
That no wine should e'er be drunken,
I ne'er drank it—by my eyes!
But if any time it pleased me,
Not to break a good old custom,
I just hid it—by my beard!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

—A ROOM IN MALEC'S HOUSE.
Enter DOÑA CLARA and BEATRICE.
CLARA.
Beatrice, permit me still
To weep my pains and breathe my sighs—
They owe this little to mine eyes,
So let my griefs their fountains fill;
And since I have not power to kill
Him, who has dared, with evil eye,
To blast mine honour once so high—
Or from my heritage of shame
Redeem my late unspotted name,
Let me at least, in pity, die;
Alas! how abject, oh! how base
The fatal gifts that Nature gave us—
Gifts that but the more enslave us—
Wit and loveliness and grace,
Which perchance may tempt disgrace,
But to keep honour safe, are vain.
Ah! what greater source of pain
Than to have power to take at will
Honour from sire or spouse, and still
Have none to give it back again?
If I were born a man, 'twere seen,
Granada and the world would see,
If Mendoza to-day would be
As brave before a young man's mien,
As with an old man he has been.—
Perhaps I may with him disclaim
My sex's weakness—without shame
Ask satisfaction as my right,
For he who would an old man fight,
Would with a woman do the same:
But ah! my foolish hope is vain,
Its sole achievement is to speak—
Oh! that my hands were not too weak,
My own revenge at once to gain!
And now, alas! a greater pain,
A greater trial waiteth me—
Doomed in one wretched day to be
Deprived at once of sire and spouse,
Since I would shame the bridal vows
Of Don Alvaro Tuzaní.

Enter DON ALVARO.
ALVARO.
An evil augury, I fear,
Portending woe to hope and love,
Beautiful Clara—this will prove,
That on thy lips my name I hear,
For, if the voice should be the mere
Echo, the inward thought express'd
Audibly of the soul—confess'd
Truly by tears as now, 'tis plain
That I must cause thy bosom's pain,
Since you thus cast me from thy breast.

CLARA.
Denial now were worse than vain;
My heart is full of pains 'tis true,
Thou art amongst them, think if you
Can be perchance its slightest pain;
Since Heaven has torn our loves in twain,
Think if thou art its greatest rather;—
I cannot be thy wife, nor gather
Disgraceful flowers to strew thy bed.
For thou canst never stoop to wed
The child of a dishonoured father.

ALVARO.
Clara, I no inclination
Have to remind you now how long
I have loved you with a strong
And a respectful adoration,
I only wish on this occasion,
To explain why I can be
Here to-day, and thou still see
Thy wrong without its due atonement;
It is because this brief postponement
I have allowed through love to thee;
Though for a lady's conversation
The duel is no fitting theme—
And though perchance a little gleam
I might impart, of consolation
To thy sorrow, thy vexation—
By saying it hath no pretence
To wake your tears, or even the sense
Of having suffered wrong—because
What's done unarmed, and, by the laws
Protected, cannot give offence.
But on another point I rest,
Having another reason why,
How it so happens, here, that I
Enter, before I have redressed
(Piercing Mendoza's haughty breast)
Your father's honour—a good deed,
Even though it hath been long decreed:—
No wrong is e'er avenged aright
Save by the wronged one, in the fight
Wherein the wrong-doer's heart must bleed:
Or if not by himself, his son,
Or at the least his brother's hand;
And since his honour doth demand
Vengeance which cannot else be won—
I have to ask, that now be done
The act for which I long have sighed—
It is that you become my bride.
I go to ask Don Juan this:—
Being his son, that tie of bliss
Lets him, through me, be satisfied;
Clara, for this alone, be sure
That I came here: if I till now
Timidly pressed you not to allow
Our union,—'twas that I was poor—
This day's event the effect doth cure,
Since I shall not by wish or tongue
Ask aught that doth to thee belong
By way of portion, but the right
To avenge thy wrong: In the world's sight
A poor man's portion be a wrong.

CLARA.
Don Alvaro, neither shall I
Recall how long has been, and true
My firm devotion unto you—
How I have loved you faithfully;
Nor attempt to say I die
Stricken to-day by a double knife,
Nor, how duty and love at strife,
Seek in this fleeting calm to control
My heart: for thou art the life of my soul,
Thou indeed art the soul of my life:—
This alone I wish to say,
In all this trouble, that she who would crave
But yesterday to be thy slave,
Will not become thy wife to-day,
For if through diffidence yesterday
You asked me not, and to-day you do,
I to-day but owe it to you
To refuse thee, lest the malign
Breath of time could say, to be thine
I needed some attraction new.
Rich and honoured, once I thought
I was unworthy of thy love,
Happily as the event doth prove
That unhappy feeling was nought
But a suspicion. Think, now, ought
I to-day to give to thee
Instead of happiness, misery,
Punishment instead of reward?
As if I should be disgraced, my lord,
Ere you would think to wed with me.

ALVARO.
To revenge thee my spirit woos thee.

CLARA.
Respect enforceth my rejection.

ALVARO.
Does not this, Clara, prove my affection?

CLARA.
Esteem, Alvaro, makes me refuse thee.

ALVARO.
You have no power now to excuse thee:—

CLARA.
I at the least have power to die.

ALVARO.
I shall tell Don Juan, that I
Won your love.

CLARA.
And I shall deny it.

ALVARO.
Is this loyalty?

CLARA.
Honour lives by it.

ALVARO.
Is it truth?

CLARA.
'Tis fidelity:—
Since, by yonder heavens so pure
I solemnly swear, never to be
The wife of a man, until I see
My honour once again secure.

ALVARO.
What imports that, if....

BEATRICE.
No more,
For, my lord, by the corridor,
With some others comes this way.

CLARA.
Retire within this room, I pray:—

ALVARO.
What a mischance!

[Alvaro enters the room, but is still visible to the audience.
CLARA.
It grieves me sore!

Enter DON ALONZO DE ZUÑIGA the CORREGIDOR, DON FERNANDO VALOR, and DON JUAN MALEC.
MALEC,
aside to Clara.
Clara!

CLARA.
My lord?

MALEC,
aside.
Ah! woe is me!
With what pain again to meet thee!—
To that chamber there retreat thee.

CLARA.
What is this?

MALEC.
From that thou'lt see.

[Clara and Beatrice retire to the room where Alvaro is concealed.
CORREGIDOR.
Don Juan de Mendoza lies
Imprisoned in the Alhambra now:
Till this affair blows o'er somehow,
Don Juan Malec, it were wise
That you within your house should stay,
On your parole.

MALEC.
I freely give it,
And as freely you may receive it,
Since I shall keep it.

VALOR.
The delay
Will not be much, since his lordship here,
The corregidor, allows my endeavour
(For in the duel of honour, never
Should authority interfere)
This ruffled sense of wrong to soothe,
Hoping to make you friends once more.

CORREGIDOR.
Señor Fernando de Valor
Skilfully thus, with a double truth,
Reneweth honour's fancied stains—
None ('tis the law) can insults fling
Or in the palace of a King
Or in the hall where Justice reigns,
There, from the sacred strict duress,
None of us all can e'er be free.

VALOR.
The means I have in view must be
Successful....

ALVARO,
aside to Clara.
Do you hear this?

CLARA,
to Alvaro.
Yes.

VALOR.
In fact no other means I see
This disagreement to set right.

MALEC,
aside.
Ah! honour, thou'rt in evil plight
When thou dost need a remedy!

VALOR.
Don Juan de Mendoza is
As brave a knight as ever carried
Cross or coronet. He is unmarried:
With a rank as proud as his,
Don Juan de Malec, in whose veins
Still flows Granada's royal blood,
Has a daughter, by fame endowed
With all that dazzles and enchains—
Whom envy's self dare not disparage;
If satisfaction for his wrong
He still requires, it doth belong
But to a son-in-law: this marriage
'Twixt Doña Clara and Don Juan
Makes all secure.

ALVARO,
aside.
Ah! woe is me:—

VALOR,
to Malec.
No other way that I can see
Can you repair your honour's ruin.
For then your insult being extended
To him, you must become the defender—
As a third party, he is the offender,
But as your son-in-law the offended:—
There being no party then to claim
Satisfaction from, and no ill to cure,
With you the effect becomes secure,
And with Don Juan Mendoza the same;
For he not having then to give
Death to himself—in this immense
Abyss, must hold his own offence
In his own breast, and so forgive:
So that the offence itself being gone,—
No man being self-angry long—
Don Juan wisely guarding his wrong—
No one remains to take vengeance on:—
This the honour of both will render
Pure as before, since human eyes
Never saw one person comprise
Both the offended and the offender.

ALVARO,
to Clara.
I will answer.

CLARA,
to him.
For God's sake, stay;
Let me not be destroyed by you.

CORREGIDOR.
This arrangement doth answer the two.

MALEC.
There is one obstacle in the way,
Since the sacrifice honour demands,
Against our hopes, may Clara refuse.

CLARA,
aside.
Heaven itself approves of my views,
Giving vengeance into my hands.

MALEC.
Since indeed I do not know
That my daughter would wish to mate
With a man she has reason to hate
With such good cause.

Enter DOÑA CLARA.
I shall wish it so;
Freely shall I the offering give,
Since, my lord, it imports me less
That I should live without happiness,
Than that you without honour live:
Because, if I had been thy son,
I would have heard but anger calling,
Bravely killing, or bravely falling;
Being thy daughter, I have but one
Way, by which can no more be deferred
Satisfaction dearer than life:—
And so I will become his wife:—
From which act it may be inferred,
That I am in this way trying
To save thy honour, weakly but willing,
And since I cannot revenge by killing—
I may, at least, do so, by dying.

CORREGIDOR.
Wit like thine could only draw out
From the midst of so much confusion,
Such a singular conclusion.

VALOR.
And the effect I do not doubt;
But a letter must now be writ
To him, according to our intent,
Which I shall myself present.

CORREGIDOR.
And we likewise shall go with it.

MALEC,
aside.
I shall use the time in preparation
For the revolt that we intend.

VALOR.
All shall come to a happy end
I firmly trust, through my mediation.

[Exeunt the three.
CLARA.
Now that they have gone away
To write the letter (woe the worth!)
You may, Alvaro, now come forth.

Enter DON ALVARO.
ALVARO.
Yes, I will do so, yes, to say
That never shall I see again
A soul so fickle in a breast
So truly noble: I could rest
(Though my heart's life ebbed fast away,
Blood fled my cheek and sight mine eye)
Within there, not through respect, nor dearth
Of courage, but that on the earth
A woman could be found......

CLARA.
Ah! me.

ALVARO.
So bold, so light as to presume
With broken faith, in accents bland,
To offer to one man her hand,
And have another in her room:—
I did not wish it were believed
I could love one, whose vows are vain.

CLARA.
Thy voice, Alvaro, oh! detain,
For thou, indeed, art self-deceived:
Which satisfactorily will appear
After a little.

ALVARO.
A transaction
Like this, can have no satisfaction.

CLARA.
You will find it can.

ALVARO.
Did I not hear
You say, that you would give to-day
Your hand to Mendoza?

CLARA.
Yes! 'tis so,—
But you at present do not know
Unto what end I so did say;—

ALVARO.
What end?—to kill me, let me see
From what point an excuse you gather;
Since dishonour he gives thy father,
And my death he gives through thee.

CLARA.
Time, Alvaro, time will be able
Some day or other to undeceive you,
While I am constant and still believe you,
Your faith in me has become unstable.

ALVARO.
Did any mortal ever yet know
Such a subtle deceit? you confess
Your hand, you said, you would give him?

CLARA.
Yes.

ALVARO.
Will you not be his wife then?

CLARA.
No.

ALVARO.
How reconcile this seeming strife......

CLARA.
Vainly the mode you now demand.

ALVARO.
Clara, between giving your hand,
And between becoming his wife?

CLARA.
To give him my hand, perchance, may be
To draw him to my arms, that so
I may inflict a deadlier blow:
Are you satisfied now with me?

ALVARO.
No, for he dies amid your charms.
O God!—it is a favour you give,
Since thus to die, is more than to live;
Because, Clara, your beauteous arms
For executioners are so fair:—
But before (although it may be
Your intention) he there shall see
Himself, he dies ere he get there:—
Thus, my pains, I shall remedy,
And your scorn, by this death of his.

CLARA.
Is this love?

ALVARO.
Honour it is.

CLARA.
Is this kindness?

ALVARO.
'Tis jealousy.

CLARA.
See! my father has written the letter;
Would that you could stay by my side!

ALVARO.
Ah! for me, near thee to abide,
Were required, what a trifling fetter!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

—THE INTERIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA.
Enter DON JUAN DE MENDOZA and GARCES.
MENDOZA.
In reason, anger never doth excel.

GARCES.
Blame not yourself, since you did very well
To make him feel thy hand,
Since this new Christian thought he might demand
Immunity because of his old age,
Thus with a proud Mendoza to engage.

MENDOZA.
Many there are, because of their high state
Are haughty, proud, and inconsiderate.

GARCES.
It was for this, that the great constable
Don Iñigo bore (the thought was admirable)
One sword at his side,
And one in his hand which thus a staff supplied;
Being asked one day,
Why he carried two swords in this way,
He said, the one beside me, I prefer,
For him who doth a similar weapon bear;
The other, which as a staff I hold,
For him who does not bear one and is bold.

MENDOZA.
Well may cavaliers be cautioned by these words
That separate actions, call for separate swords;
So that I may have power to parry,
A thrust from either, give me the sword you carry;
That whatever may occur
I may not want a sword, although a prisoner.

GARCES.
I am delighted that I called to-day
So opportunely here, as now I may
Be able to serve you, should your foes presume.

MENDOZA.
How from Lepanto, Garces, did you come?

GARCES.
As one whose fortune it has been
To look upon that famous scene,
And act a soldier's part
In such a glorious proof of military art,
Humbly indeed, but guided by the word
Of him, the offspring of that royal bird
Who in his wondrous flight of conquest, flings
O'er all the world, the shadow of his wings.

MENDOZA.
How has Don John returned?

GARCES.
Content
With the exploit.

MENDOZA.
Was it great?

GARCES.
The event
I shall relate in full; the league with......

MENDOZA.
Wait,
For a veiled woman enters.

GARCES.
How unfortunate!
I play reverses thus with my romance,
The court-card enters and I lose my chance.

Enter DOÑA ISABEL TUZANÍ, veiled.
ISABEL.
My lord Don Juan de Mendoza,
May a woman, who comes hither,
But to see you in your prison,
Ask you of yourself, in private,
How, imprisoned here, you are?

MENDOZA.
Why not, lady?—leave us, Garces.

GARCES,
aside.
Look, my lord, perchance this person......

MENDOZA,
aside.
Vain your fears and your suspicions;
Since she spoke, I recognise her.

GARCES,
aside.
That being so I go.

[Exit.
MENDOZA.
You may:—
In a similar confusion
Eyes and ears this moment hold me,
For I know not of the two
Which tell truth or which speak falsely,
For, if I believe my eyesight,
You appear not what you are—
And if I believe my hearing
You are not what you appear,
Deign to let me see uplifted
This apparent subtle cloud
Of dark crape, that then the dazzling
Light which will come conquering through
May proclaim to sight and hearing
That to-day, the day dawns twice.

ISABEL.
Not to force your thoughts, Don Juan,
To doubt longer who is she
That thus seeks you, is the reason
Why I show thee who I am,
For my jealous heart disdaineth
That through guessing you should err
As to whom you owe this favour,
I am......

[Raises her veil.
MENDOZA.
Isabel! Señora!—
Can it be, that to my dwelling,
In this singular disguise,
You have deigned to come and see me?
How, oh! how can I indulge
Hopes so sweet and so fallacious?—
Since I know that I must doubt them.

ISABEL.
Scarcely I had learn'd what happened,
And that you were here confined,
When my love would not permit me
To wait longer here to come,
And before the going homeward
Of my brother, Don Alvaro
Tuzaní, I came to see thee,
With a single maid alone,
(Think now what it is you owe me)
Who doth wait at the door.

MENDOZA.
To-day
All my cares—my sorrows vanish
In this act of generous kindness,
Yes, dear Isabel, by them......

Enter IÑES veiled, hurriedly, and as if frightened.
INES.
Ah! Señora!

ISABEL.
What's this, Iñes?

INES.
Don Alvaro, even my lord
Hither comes.

ISABEL.
What! could he know me
Through this close disguise, as I
Came along?

MENDOZA.
What great misfortune!

ISABEL.
If he followed me, I die!—

MENDOZA.
If you are with me, what fear you?
Enter this adjoining hall,
Close the door, and if he seeketh
There to enter, ere he finds you
He must leave me dead and cold.

ISABEL.
In this mighty peril standing,
Aid me Heaven! in pity aid me!—

[Isabel and Iñes conceal themselves.
Enter DON ALVARO.
ALVARO.
My lord Don Juan de Mendoza,
I wish to speak with you in private.

MENDOZA.
You perceive I am alone.

ISABEL,
at the side.
Ah! how pale he looks and haggard!

ALVARO.
Then I may secure this door.

MENDOZA.
You can close it:— [aside]
Fortune aids us.

ALVARO.
Now that it is closed, I pray
That you hear me with attention.
I have learned through accident
That have now set out to seek you......

MENDOZA.
You heard truly.

ALVARO.
In this prison......

MENDOZA.
Your informant has not lied.

ALVARO.
In this action he offends me
Who has life or soul to answer.

ISABEL,
aside.
Can he speak with clearer meaning?

MENDOZA,
aside.
Heavens! my doubts are at an end!

ALVARO.
So I have in haste come hither
(Ere the others have arrived
With the intention of reviving
Friendships on disgraceful terms)
To defend my outraged honour.

MENDOZA.
This I do not understand.

ALVARO.
Then I shall explain more clearly.

ISABEL,
aside.
Once again my heart breathes freely,
Since it is not me he seeks.

ALVARO.
The Corregidor attempts with
Don Ferdinand de Valor,
Kinsman of Don Juan Malec,
To renew this broken friendship—
And it is my sole concern
To prevent it: and, my reason—
Though a hundred I could mention,
There is one I cannot tell:—
And in fine, even though my motive
Were but only a caprice,
Still it is enough to ask you
If thou art as brave with young men
As with old men thou art bold;
'Tis for this alone I seek thee,
Foot to foot to die, or kill.

MENDOZA.
You have done me a great favour,
Thus so briefly telling me
What you mean: because, this moment
Wildered in a thousand ways,
I conceived it was another
Matter more important far;
For the one that you have mentioned
Is with me of small account:
But since it is not my practice
To refuse to fight with him
Who desires with me to combat,
Ere those kind ambassadors
Who, you say, are coming, reach us,
If the present time doth suit you,
Draw your sword.

ALVARO.
For this I come;
'Tis more needful that I slay thee
Quickly, than you could have thought.

MENDOZA.
Well, the field is fair and open.

[They fight.
ISABEL,
aside.
From one trouble to another
My misfortunes make me fall;
Who, a lover and a brother
Could see fighting thus, without
Any power to separate them?

MENDOZA.
What true courage!

ALVARO.
What great skill!

ISABEL,
aside.
What indeed to do, I know not,
Since I see two skilful players,
And I wish the two success,
Since they both alike affect me,
Howsoe'er they win or lose.

[DON ALVARO trips against a chair and falls; DOÑA ISABEL enters still veiled, and detains DON JUAN.
ALVARO.
Tripp'd up by this seat I've fallen.

ISABEL.
Oh! Don Juan, hold thy hand;—
But what have I done? The impulse
[Aside.
Hurried me to act this way.

[Retires.
ALVARO.
You did wrong in hiding from me,
People were within that room.

MENDOZA.
If it was thy life to give thee,
Do not thou complain, 'tis I
Who have better grounds to do so,
Fighting two:—since she came forth
Not for mine, but thine assistance;
Though 'twas needless, since I know
Knighthood's law too well: for seeing
That thy fall was accidental,
I myself had let thee rise.

ALVARO.
Then a double obligation
Do I owe unto this lady,
Since she came to give me life
Ere I had been forced to take it
From thy hands: because to thee
I am not for this indebted:—
Now I feel my anger ripen
To resume the fight once more.

MENDOZA.
Don Alvaro, who detains thee?

[They fight.
ISABEL,
aside.
Oh! for power to call for aid!

[A loud knocking is heard at the door.
ALVARO.
At the door there is a knocking.—

MENDOZA.
What's to be done?

ALVARO.
Let either die,
And the survivor then may open.

MENDOZA.
You say well.

Enter DOÑA ISABEL and INES.
ISABEL.
I first shall open
Wide the door, and let them in.

ALVARO.
Do not so:—

MENDOZA.
You must not open!

[DOÑA ISABEL opens the door and wishes to escape, but is detained by the CORREGIDOR, who enters with DON FERNANDO VALOR.
ISABEL.
Cavaliers, most opportunely
Have you come: these two here standing
Seek to kill each other.

CORREGIDOR.
Stay:—
Since to find things in this manner—
They contending—you being present—
Says the matter, very clearly,
That you are the cause.

ISABEL,
aside.
Ah, me!
Since I planned mine own destruction,
When I thought to set me free.

ALVARO.
That the slightest inconvenience
May not happen to a lady
Unto whom I owe my life,
I the simple truth will tell you:—
For the cause that so hath moved me
To this duel, is not love.
No, but being the relation
Of Don Juan Malec—thus
I for him sought satisfaction.

MENDOZA.
It is true: it chanced this lady
Came to see me the same time.

CORREGIDOR.
Since we trust the disagreements
By the means we have concerted
Will be ended, let all cease;
It is best that this be settled
Without blood, since he doth conquer
Best who conquers without blood:—
Go, in God's name, fair Señoras.

ISABEL,
aside.
'Tis my fortune's only gain.

[Exeunt ISABEL and INES.
VALOR.
Señor Don Juan de Mendoza,
To your kindred, it appeareth,
And to ours, that this occurrence
Should be settled within doors,
(As the Castilian proverb has it)—
And cemented by new ties,
Since by giving Doña Clara,—
She the phenix of Granada,
Your betrothéd hand, as part
Of the....

MENDOZA.
Cease this bootless language,
Señor Fernando de Valor,
For it doth the affair embarrass:
If Doña Clara is a phenix,
She may be so in Arabia,
But in the mountains of Castile
A phenix is by no means needed.
And my kindred well should know
Men like me ne'er form connections
To secure a stranger's honour;
Neither do I know 'twere fitting
The Mendozas mixed their blood
With the blood of Malec; never
Can they blend in happy union
The Mendozas and Malecas.

VALOR.
Don Juan Malec is a man....

MENDOZA.
Like you:—

VALOR.
Like me, a proud descendant
Of the monarchs of Granada—
Since ascending to his fathers,
You will find them kings like mine.

MENDOZA.
Mine, indeed, without being monarchs,
Were still more than Moorish kings,
Being unconquered mountaineers.

ALVARO.
What his lordship Don Fernando
Has expressed upon this matter—
I shall hold upon the field.

CORREGIDOR.
Here my magisterial duty
Ceases, and I take instead
The cavalier's, which suits me better;—
I, a Zuniga in Castile,
Ere a justice in Granada.
And so laying down this staff,—
When and where you please, thou'lt find me
Standing at Don Juan's side.

Enter a SERVANT.
SERVANT.
Visitors the house have entered.

CORREGIDOR.
Let us all dissemble now;
I resume my civil duties:—
Here, Don Juan, still remain
In confinement.

MENDOZA.
I, in all things
Will obey you.

CORREGIDOR,
to ALVARO and VALOR.
You retire.

MENDOZA.
And if further satisfaction
You require....

CORREGIDOR.
Acquaint Don Juan
And myself when you have chosen....

MENDOZA.
You will find us with the sword....

CORREGIDOR.
And by the cloak alone protected.

[Exeunt the CORREGIDOR and MENDOZA.
VALOR,
aside.
This, my honour can consent to!

ALVARO,
aside.
This, my valour can endure!

VALOR.
Is it for becoming Christian
That I must receive this wrong?

ALVARO.
For embracing their religion,
Is it, I am treated thus?

VALOR.
As God liveth, it is craven
Not to seek for instant vengeance!

ALVARO.
As Heaven lives, 'tis infamous
That I wait yet to avenge me!

VALOR.
Heaven but give me the occasion....

ALVARO.
Give me but the occasion, Fortune....

VALOR.
If the Destinies assist me....

ALVARO.
If the Fates in pity grant it....

VALOR.
I will act, that very quickly....

ALVARO.
Spain will weep a thousand times....

VALOR.
The strong valour....

ALVARO.
The bold daring
Of this arm so strong and powerful....

VALOR.
Of the haughty-souled Valores.

ALVARO.
Of the valiant Tuzanís.

VALOR.
Have you heard me?

ALVARO.
Yes, and echoed.

VALOR.
Let us end the tongue's weak language,
And with hands begin to speak!

ALVARO.
Who opposes such beginning?

[Exeunt.