SCENE V. ARCH OF TRAJAN ON THE MOLE.
CONSUL, MARCHESELLA, COUNTESS, SENATORS, &c.
Consul. We have no flowers to decorate the arch
Whence the most glorious ruler of mankind
Smiles on you, lady! and on you, who rival
His valour, his humanity, his bounty.
Nor are there many voices that can sing
Your praises. For, alas! our poor frail nature
(May it be seldom !) hears one call above
The call of gratitude. The famishing
Devour your bread. But, though we hear no praises,
There are who sing them to their harps on high,
And He who can alone reward you both
Listens in all his brightness to the song.
I do entreat you, blemish not your glory.
No exercise of might or sovranty
Can ever bring you such content again
As this day's victory, these altar-prayers
From rescued men, men perishing; from child
And parent every parent, every child,
Who hears your name, should bless you evermore.
Countess. I find, sir, I must win you through
your daughter.
Consul. The girl is grateful: urge her not too
far:
I could not, without much compunction, thwart her.
Erminia! go we meet again to-morrow.
Countess. Come hither, my sweet girl!
And art thou ashamed?
Erminia. I am ashamed.
Countess.
Of what? thou simpleton !
Erminia. I know not what.. of having been
ashamed.
Consul. Antonio! if thou truly lovedst her,
What, after deeds so valiant, kept thee silent?
Stamura. Inferior rank, deep reverence, due
I know who rules our country.
Consul.
I, who saved her. [FATHER JOHN enters. F. John. What! and am I to be without reward?
Consul. Father! be sure it will be voted you. Marchesella. And may not we too make our pious offerings,
Paolucci. Ay, thy grandfather's to boot.
And there was one, about my age, before him,
Sir Stefano, who wore a certain rose,
Radiant with pearls and rubies and pure gold,
Above the horse-tail grappled from the Turk.
Marchesella. We have not in the house that
ornament.
Paolucci. I do believe he wears it in the grave.
Countess. There is a sword here bright enough
to throw
We know but one high title in the world,
One only set apart for deeds of valour,
And palsied be the hand that ill confers it.
Here is the field of battle; here I knight thee.
[Knights him.
Rise, my compeer! Teach him his duties, lady,
Toward the poor, the proud, the faith, the sex.
Countess (smiling). Stamura! would you enter
now my service?
Stamura. Yes, lady, were you wrong'd, this
very hour;
For such they are, when such men will receive them. Then might I better earn the bliss I seek.
By flattering the king and queen a little
And giving them a kiss or two, each of us.
If you should find me but a child in thought,
Or, what is hatefuller, all say, in manner,
And blush for me, my heart must shrivel under it;
Constantia. Pleasant must be these groves of For I would never pain the man I love,
I ask from you what no man ever had,
Or askt, in my condition; pity me!
Constantia. O this is then the solemn way to woo!
I have read something like it, since you went,
But never thought it could be near the same.
Here is my hand. You take it not!
Pedro.
My life hangs from it, and more lives than one.
Constantia. Ono, vain man! I love you very well,
Very sincerely, very tenderly,
For I have seen you often, long together,
Early, and when none knew it; but think not
My life hangs from your ring: you first askt pity,
And fear'd to ask even that; you now would
grant it,
Perhaps not grant it, yet would make me sue.
And came you then before the hour for this?
Pedro. I came before the hour, I must confess,
To be with you some moments more, alone.
Constantia. "Tis very wrong, I hear, at such a
time
Of life when we are children and are wild
'Tis well enough; but when we are grown sage
(As we are) the whole world cries out upon it.
What now have you been doing all these days?
Pedro. This is the first appointed me for see-
ing you.
Constantia. O! I know that: my question was
amiss:
I always say the very thing one would not.
Alas! I find, and I am sorry for it,
Too young am I to think of serious things.
Surely we might defer them for a year,
*The events in these scenes are not strictly historical.
And least of all (for that hurts most) would shame him.
Pedro. Sure some kind angel breath'd into your breast
The words on which I live.
I resign then you.
What blessing, what prosperity, what peace,
Can rest with perfidy? she is the same,
You tell me.. little matters what you tell me.
As when you knew her first.
Pedro.
The very same.
Constantia. Mild, beautiful, affectionate, be-
lieving?
[Aside.] Ah! would to God! it were indeed so! Iñes. Not at the altar yet; but did you not
PEDRO (alone in the garden). Hated, fled, Force me to say I loved you, ere you went
scorn'd, I am at least set free
From an affiance which the pure of soul
Abhor: such marriage-bed appears bestrewn
With the dank flowers and heavy pall that hung
Around the corse where bloom'd their one delight.
She comes: be strong my heart! thou'rt at thy
proof
For the first time: bear up!
Against the Moors, telling me you could never
Be half so valiant, half so proud of victory,
Unless I own'd it? Too just punishment!
Why then so long delay'd? We oft have met,
Oft every day, and no day but in smiles,
(0 those three happy ones since your return!)
And I had ceast to fancy it was wrong,
It seemed so little like it, and gave you
(To INES, who enters.) Sit here by me, Such pleasure, and such confidence in arms. Under this cedar.
Its branches push the grass away beneath,
Nor leave it room enough to rise amid them;
Easier it were, methinks, to walk along
And rest on them, they are so dense and broad,
And level as the oars are on Mondego
Until the music beckons them below.
Alas! it was unmaidenly! so was it
To leave my arm around your neck; so was it
(And worse) to linger, and not fly at once
For refuge in a cloister, when you prest
My very lips with kisses. You were going,
And my poor heart was faint: I thought no ill;
And you, who might have given me more spirit,
Said nothing no one image was there near,
Pedro. Come; I am holding them wide open Or none I saw, of her, the pure, the blessed,
Who might have chastened me with tender look
Compassionate, and dried the tears of both.
Pedro. I can not bear these reminiscences,
Rather these presences: for they who love
As we have done, have but one day, one hour,
What? In their whole life, in their whole afterlife,
In earth, heaven, time, eternity.
Iñes.
Iñes.
Is this your greeting?
This your first morning salutation? turn. .
Can it be? must I (look at me) believe it?
Pedro. Yes, my sweet. . yes, my lñes. . yes,
yes, Iñes!
Iñes. And are you still so generous, O my love,
As to be sorry you have ceast to love me?
To sigh, almost to weep, bending your face
Away from me lest I should grieve to see
A change in it, and in a change a loss!
I know not what you said, and yet your words
Seem'd my own to me.
Live! live! thou art young,
Innocent: none shall hurt thee. Think no more
Of that obedience thou wouldst speak about;
'Twas never promist me.
Iñes.
What else is love?
Pedro. O Iñes! Iñes! Iñes! must we two
Know nothing more of what love is, than this!
Iñes. Enough for such as I am.. ah! too
Take off that hand from above mine then, take For my consent to leave thee? or what heavier it,
Would any wish? even thou?
Such blemishes, then be persuaded by me,
O generous Pedro, you have wronged your nature;
They are not to be fear'd or thought of in it.
Enough of breasts are open to them, room
Enough in all, and welcome in too many!
They can not enter Pedro's.
Burst, my heart!
Iñes. One only, in your sorrows, we have still;
Speak and assuage it.
Pedro.
Dost thou bid me? hear!
Hear me reproach me! spurn me! but ask
nought.
Iñes. Nought will I ask, nought dare I, nought
desire I.
Let Watchfulness and Doubt walk slow before
Sad Certainty; let every fibre throb
Daily and nightly in the dim suspense;
Only bid Pity hold the light of Truth
Back, nor break suddenly my dream of bliss;
For fragile is the vase, containing one
Poor simple flower dipt in it by yourself,
And, if you saw it broken at your feet,
You might weep too, ere you could turn away:
Then never say that you have ceast to love me.
Pedro. I must not marry thee.
What answerest thou?
Iñes. Heaven has decreed it then, O my beloved!
Be calm unless I have offended you.
Pedro. I may be calm, no doubt! a cursc on those
Who teach me calmness! wouldst thou teach me it?
Iñes. Take off the curse: with any pain but that
I would;
'tho' others first much teach it me.
Cover its gulfs and dally with its shoals,
And hold the myriad insects in light play
Above it, loth to leave its sunny sides.
Look at this central edifice! come close!
Men's bones and marrow its materials are,
Men's groans inaugurated it, men's tears
Sprinkle its floor, fires lighted up with men
Are censers for it; Agony and Wrath
Surround it night and day with sleepless eyes;
Dissimulation, Terror, Treachery,
Denunciations of the child, the parent,
The sister, brother, lover (mark me, Iñes!)
Are the peace-offerings God receives from it.
Iñes. I tremble; but betrayers tremble more. Now cease, cease, Pedro! Cling I must to somewhat;
Leave me one guide, one rest! Let me love God,
Alone.. if it must be so !
Pedro.
Him alone..
Mind; in him only place thy trust henceforth.
Thy hands are marble, Iñes! and thy looks
Unchangeable, as are the wintry stars
In their clear brightness. And what pangs have I
Endured for thee! Gaze, smile at me, sit mute..
I merit it.. Woman of songs and satires
And sermons, thro' the world they point at thee!
[To himself.
I spoke of what I suffered: I spoke ill.
Light as a bubble was the heaviest of it
To what I now endure. Where was there ever
Affliction like love buried thus alive,
And turn'd to hatred by some hellish charm!
Pedro (aside). I thought so! Others! What a So! then thy lips can move! can open too! word is this!
She then has confidents! she asks their counsel !
She talks to them of me! tells of my loves,
My doubts, my fears. What fears have I ? what
doubts?
She throws my weaknesses before their feet
To look at, touch, discourse upon, discuss..
Now I can leave her.. now I can.. and will.
In three strides I am gone beyond a thought
Of such a woman. . dear as she was once !
Pooh! I misunderstood her, I perceive.
Monks then and priests invade the sanctuary
Of holiest love, strip down its freshest fruits,
And chew them dry and call them bad and bitter!
Could it be thus were dignity in man
Or chastity in woman, as before?
We turn tame foxes into our own vineyards
To yelp the wild ones out; but they, the wild,
Come only the more numerous at their noise;
And our sleek guardians makethe best grapes theirs,
Biting the fist that drags them back too late.
Iñes. Revere our holy Church! tho' some within
Have erred, and some are slow to lead us right,
Stopping to pry when staff and lamp should be
In hand, and the way whiten underneath.
Pedro. Iñes, the Church is now a charnel-house,
Where all that is not rottenness is drowth.
Thou hast but seen its gate hung round with
flowers,
And heard the music whose serenest waves
When they have leisure, will they deign to speak?
Iñes. O Pedro ! Pedro ! my own agony
Had cast me down; yours will not let me sink.
Uncertain man! once tender, now severe,
Once prodigal of confidence, now prompt
To snatch it back, rending the heart that held it!
How much true love my grave will hide from you!
Let this dry up my tears!
Pedro.
AT CINTRA.
BLANCA. PEDRO. INES.
Blanca. I, who heard all, have brought her
back again.
Perfidious! where are now the promises
You made your father, when at my request
He pardon'd that young sorceress? Are your words
All spent? Am I unworthy of reply?
Pedro. Madam, no accusation was preferr'd
Of sorcery; the threat was quite enough.
When you protested by the saints and martyrs,
Angels and confessors, Iñes de Castro
Should soon be charged of sorcery before
The competent tribunals of the realm,
Unless she would renounce my plighted vow,
So firm was my reliance on the word
Of royalty, so well I understood
What competent tribunals are, I swore
[TO PEDRO, laying her hand on his. Was it to me,
Iñes. Your love, your kindest love then sepa- Or to yourself, or to the queen, you spoke?
Would you not tell me this.. to make me happy! Blanca. I would prepare this damsel here to loose
(Allowing time. . a day, two days, or more, If need there be ..) her idle unfit ties.
Pedro. I was more rough, and would have broken
them
To save her. Hard as is the alternative,
Rather would I be wanting to my faith
Than see the woman I have loved, and love,
Resign or loosen it. To ask of her
To break my bonds for me, were more than base-
ness;
"Twere what the weakest of the base themselves
Disdain, and love and fear alike brush by.
Blanca. Against the course of nature, royal blood
Would mingle with plebeian.
This beadle's house, these rotten fangs from fiends,
These imprecation-wallets, opening
To blast me with fat air!
Blanca.
Scoff at the world!
Pedro. Saints do it worse.
Lady! is but a narrow one indeed!
Pedro. In Nature's voice I spoke alone with
Nature.
[To the QUEEN.
Madam protect this innocent sweet girl!
I, who would have abandoned her, implore it!
Iñes. Too generous soul! O Pedro! O my
prince!
Let the unworthiest of your father's vassals
Clasp, on the ground, your knee !
How! in my presence!
Leaning thy forehead on thy keeper's knee!
Pedro (raising INES). Rise!
[To the QUEEN. Madam, I have
His father will forgive him at my suit;
He loves him, and hath shown it in the choice
He has approved and sanctioned, of his wife.
Iñes. O happy father! happy Portugal!
And, whatsoe'er befall thee, happy Iñes!
Blanca. Has the audacious chatterer ceast at
last?
Constantia, sir, is royal, is your equal,
Is your superior.
Who is not? that wears
The graces of her sex, the goodness of it,
The mildness, and sometimes the pitying tears.
Constantia knows my passion.
Blanca.
Knows your passion?
The universe of princes, What! before marriage? Yes, yes, you are right:
I told her of it when I gave it her,
How 'twas devoted to her. Prove my words,
If loyalty and knighthood are within you.
Pedro. Strong the appeal: and any other words
Court, church, and camp, are its three continents,
Nothing is there above, below, around,
But air and froth, now quieter, now stormier.
Blanca. Rare manhood! thus to argue with a The queen might dictate.
woman!
Rare courtesy thus to instruct a queen.
Pedro. Ah! the distracted will for ever reason; Why will not those sometimes who are not so? Blanca. What then, unsteady youth, were your resolves?
Pedro. If she who formerly believed so much, Iñes, could think me now unworthy of her,
These will do quite well;
Confirm them to my daughter: that is all:
Say them in your own way.. with some few more,
As princes do, by precedent. . or not..
I would drop any form to make you easy,
And put this boyish fancy out of mind.
Iñes. I must not throw myself again before you,
I must not hear those royal words again,
She soon might bear our severance: what care I They hurt you so, they almost made you angry.
How many, great, unmerited, my sufferings,
Be hers but less!
Ah! how you blush at being wroth so soon!
But let me pray, and let me once more move you,
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