The Ladies of Castile/Act II

by Mercy Otis Warren

ACT II

Scene I

An Alcove in an artificial Wilderness

(Donna Louisa, sola)

The burnish'd hills o'erlook the verdant dales,

And nature's deck'd in all her bright array.

The whispering breeze plays o'er the dappled mead,

And fans the foliage on the flowery bank:---

The towering wood lark trills her tender note,

And soft responsive music cheers the lawn;

Yet here I wander wilder'd and alone,

Like some poor banish'd fugitive who seeks

The meagre comfort of a moss grown cave.

(Enter Donna Maria)

Donna Maria

Awake fond maid---nor thus supinely waste

Thy youth---thy bloom. Thy matchless beauty fades

Mid'st sorrow, sighs, and unavailing tears.

Donna Louisa

Thought feeds my woes, nor can my reason aid

To calm the passions of my grief torn breast,

'Till concord weaves again her palmy wreath,

To deck the face of this distracted land.

Donna Maria

Though weak compassion sinks the female mind,

And our frail sex dissolve in pity's tears;

Yet justice' sword can never be resheath'd,

'Till Charles is taught to know we will be free;

And learns the duty that a monarch owes,

To heaven---the people---and the rights of man.

Let him restore the liberties of Spain---

Dismiss the robbers that arrest his ear---

Those pension'd plunderers that rudely seize

What nature gave, and what our fathers won.

Donna Louisa

I retrospect, and weep Spain's happier days---

Survey the pleasures once we call'd our own,

When harmony display'd her gentle wand,

And every peasant smil'd beneath his vine---

'Till nature sickens at the sad reverse,

And my swoln bosom heaves with smother'd sighs,

Too big to be repress'd.---I yield to grief

'Till floods of tears relieve my tortur'd soul.

Donna Maria

Maria has a bolder part to act---

I scorn to live upon ignoble terms---

A supple courtier fawning at the feet

Of proud despotic nobles, or of kings.

Donna Louisa

Had I thy firmness, yet my heart would bleed

To see my country torn by civil feuds.

Each hero hurls a javelin at the breast

His heart reveres, and friendship's soul recoils

When the bold veteran urges home the blow,

To pierce the man he venerates and loves;

While the brave patriot parries back the shaft

Against a life that virtue's self would save.

Donna Maria

This sad necessity---this painful strife,

Should reunite the citizens of Spain;

And rouse each languid arm with tenfold zeal

To point the thunder at a tyrant's head,

Ere yet the lingering mind indignant sinks,

Debas'd and trembling at a despot's frown.

Rather let cities that support his reign,

Like Torbolatan yesterday reduc'd,

Be storm'd and sack'd before tomorrow's dawn;

And thus be taught the weakness of the mind

That dare a moment balance in the scale,

A crown for kings---with liberty to man.

Donna Louisa

But ah, Maria!---this little self obtrudes;

I cannot boast disinterested grief;

Louisa's tears can never cease to flow.

If brave Don Juan wins a glorious day,

My father---friends---and family are lost;

If victory for loyalty declares---

Or if Don Francis---noble Francis, falls---

Is there a name from Castile to the Rhone,

So wretched as thy friend---thy lov'd Louisa?

Donna Maria

Thou should'st have liv'd in mild and gentler times,

And breath'd, and slumber'd in the lap of peace,

As innocent and soft as infant love,

When lull'd to rest by a fond mother's song:

The smiling babe, wak'd by the wind's rude breath,

The pearly dew drop trickles from its eye,

'Till sooth'd to quiet by its favourite toy;

But for myself---though famine, chains, and death

Should all combine---nay, should Don Juan fall---

Which Heav'n forbid---I ne'er will yield,

Nor own myself a slave.---But see thy lover,

Pensive, walks this way.---Adieu, my friend,

I must be gone---the busy moments call---

My mind is fraught with cares of high import.

(Exit)

Scene II

(Enter Don Francis and Donna Louisa)

Don Francis

Let hope return and spread her silken wing,

And smile beneath the canopy of love;

The heav'n born mind, where virtue sits enthron'd,

Should be serene, nor waste itself in sighs.

Donna Louisa

Talk not of love, while sympathetic pain,

And keenest sorrows, rive the boldest heart;

While thousands fall at freedom's sacred shrine,

And bathe her pedestal with the rich blood

Of the best soldiers that the world can boast;

While the fond wife droops o'er her dying lord,

And orphan'd babes, and widow'd matrons weep,

Thrown helpless, on a cold, ungrateful world,

As pitiless as winter's frozen hand.

Don Francis

For human woes my heart has often bled---

Yet dry thy tears, and calm thy ruffled mind---

Anticipate my bliss, and bid me live:---

Oh! give thy hand, and plight thy sacred vow,

Ere war's hoarse clarion summons to the field,

That nought but death shall tear thee from my arms.

Donna Louisa

Why wilt thou urge and importune my vows

While all my soul is agony and grief?---

Name love no more, till peace shall bless the land;

When redden'd wrath no longer lifts the sword,

Dip'd to the hilt in rancour's baneful stream---

That the steel'd heart may deeper plunge the blade,

Without a sigh---when from the gaping wound,

Out rushes, staring, the astonish'd soul

Of his lov'd friend, or of a brother slain.

Ah!---whither do I rove---let me retire,

Lest I betray the weakness of my heart.

Don Francis

O might I claim that tender trickling tear,

And call those sighs my own---they'd waft me on

Towards the field of fame, with fresh blown hope,

That ere tomorrow's sun engulphs his brow,

And cools his steeds beyond the western main,

I might return victorious to thine arms,

And lay my trophies at Louisa's feet.

Donna Louisa

And what these trophies---but a brother's spoils?

Who is the victim thy success would doom

To infamy---disgrace---despair and death?

Don Francis

Ah! there's the pain---the sharpest pang I feel

To lift the sword, and tread the hostile ground.

The Conde Haro is a virtuous foe.

Donna Louisa

The Conde Haro---is---Louisa's brother---

The only heir of Don Velasco's house---

And if he falls---fate severs us forever.

Don Francis

Forever!---revoke the sentence ere it reaches heaven.

Donna Louisa

Forever. Remember this, and spare De Haro's blood.

Don Francis

But, if in battle he should bravely fall---

Donna Louisa

A stern, enrag'd, inexorable fire,

Might hold Louisa guilty of his death.

Don Francis

Just Heaven forbld!---Could he arraign a mind

As pure and spotless as the infant morn?

Donna Louisa

Velasco is to royalty alli'd,

A feudal lord, of ancient pedigree;

In rank, in wealth, in fame, the first in Spain;

His high swoln pride bursts forth in peals of rage,

Whene'er he talks or names the rebel chiefs;

Forbids his son to spare a single life,

If fortune makes him master of the field:---

Think then what agonies pervade my breast.

Don Francis

When honour calls, and justice wields the sword,

True virtue spares, and clemency forgives;

But when a fierce, tyrannic lust of sway,

Deforms the soul, and blots out nature's stamp,

The wolf, or tyger, prowling for his prey,

Is less a savage than the monster man.

Donna Louisa

No more, my lord---I sink beneath the storm;

The jarring passions tear my feeble frame---

My filial duties make the first demand;

Yet, spite of these, a group of passions rise,

Love---friendship---fear---compassion and despair,

Alternate rend, in spite of reason's sway.

Amidst the storm, the kind De Haro comes,

And with a smile, ineffably serene,

With all the softness of fraternal love,

He cries---forbear to think of me again,

Or that thy brother hazards fame or life,

Against the valour of a dearer name.

Alas!---how weak my trembling heart's become---

Oh!---what has my unguarded tongue disclos'd!

Don Francis

What makes me bless'd beyond the power of fate.

Donna Louisa

Deception oft beneath a flimsy veil,

Hides human hearts, nor lets man know himself.

Should fortune snatch the victory from thee---

Thyself---thy friends---and freedom lost at once---

Perhaps you'll curse, in agonies of grief,

Louisa's house---her venerated sire---

Her noble brother---and yet more I dread---

Yes---my lip trembles at the rising thought---

The hapless daughter of thy cruel foe.

Is thy love proof against this test severe?---

Don Francis

Description would but beggar love like mine;

Measure the earth and mount beyond the stars,

There's nought below can bound its full extent;

Not death itself can blot thee from my heart.

Donna Louisa

Then am I thine!---witness ye heavenly powers!---

This is the signet of thy wedded wife;

(Gives him a ring)

In the last exigence weigh well its worth,

And claim thy life from Don Velasco's hand.

This was the pledge of his Zelinda's faith:

Knowing the sallies of his haughty soul---

In a fond moment of paternal love,

He kiss'd my cheek, and caught my trembling hand,

Fix'd on my finger this invalu'd gem,

And by a solemn oath' he bound his soul,

To grant each prayer when this should plead its claim.

Don Francis

Language is poor, and time itself would fail

To speak the raptures of my grateful heart.

Donna Louisa

What have I done---my filial love,

And the connubial ties---at variance set---

A brother's life against a husband's stak'd---

My country's weal, with loyalty at war---

Confusion---tumult---death and slaughter reign;

As if the demons leap'd Tartarus' bounds

To sport with misery and grin at pain.

Don Francis

Heaven has the means to extricate from woe,

Though veil'd from man---if patience waits his will:---

When fortitude, her sister virtue joins,

They both triumphant, meet a just reward.

Adieu, my love---my duty bids me haste;

(Trumpets without)

Soon I return, victorious from the field,

And clasp an angel to my faithful breast.

(Exit)

Donna Louisa, solus

---------------------He's gone!---

I feel the parting stroke severe indeed---

As if his lips pronounc'd a last adieu.

Now all ye powers supreme, support my soul;

Teach me to brave the conflicts of the world

In this extreme distress---nor let me swerve

From honour's path, or virtue's strictest rule;

Nor let my conscience once upbraid my steps.

(Exit)

Scene III

(Conde Haro, solus)

Conde Haro

Velasco's will, back'd by the king's command,

I must obey, or blast my rising fame,

And hazard all in the precarious cause,

Of freedom, stak'd against the power of kings:

Yet warring passions tear my tortur'd soul;

Discordant hopes make me a wretch indeed.

I love Maria---I revere her lord---

And almost wish the vict'ry may be his;

Yet if he falls---he falls as Brutus fell,

In the last struggle for his country's well;

While my success will rivet fast her chains,

Erase each vestige of her ancient rights,

And make me odious in Maria's eye.

And shall I foster this inglorious flame?

A hopeless passion gnawing on my peace,

And cankering my soul against the man

I once esteem'd my friend---though now a foe,

He's virtue's friend where'er he meets her name.

The moral sense, that checks the wayward will,

Now witness bear---I'm master of myself:---

I'll meet him in the field on equal terms;

No base desire, or any lawless wish,

Shall more obtrude to interrupt my peace:---

But honour, justice, duty to my king,

Shall wield my sword, and lead to spotless fame.

(Exit)

Scene IV

(Don Juan De Padilla and Donna Maria)

Don Juan De Padilla

First of thy sex---thou mistress of my heart---

Not all Hesperia can boast a fair

So amiably soft, discreet and wise;

With such a firm, heroic, noble soul,

Why should a tear bedew thy lovely cheek?

Donna Maria

I see distress on every side I turn;

Some sad dejection marks the soldiers brow;

Though veterans in arms, they fear the king,

And tremble at the frown of majesty:---

The nobles all, though emulous of fame,

Are jealous, proud---are turbulent and rash---

The people fierce, yet ever prone to change,

Today the cap of liberty's toss'd up---

Tomorrow torn and given to the winds,

And all their leaders, by the fickle throng

Are sacrific'd by violence, or fraud.

Don Juan De Padilla

So far above the weakness of thy sex,

Let me beseech thee never to despair;---

Support thy courage, arm thy noble mind---

Sure never more did thy Padilla need

Thy wisdom, counsel, fortitude and zeal,

To animate amidst ten thousand cares.

But my firm purpose never can be shook;

While life glows warm within my beating breast,

I will defend, against the proudest foe,

The liberties of Spain, my country's rights.

Donna Maria

So dangerous a foe has Spain ne'er seen

Since from the brindled North, the savage hords

Pour'd from their frozen hives, where gendering storms

Have rush'd, and swell'd fair Ebro's banks with blood.

Don Juan De Padilla

We have been free e'er since the mighty Goths,

In barb'rous swarms, compell'd the peaceful swain

To bare his breast, and meet the stranger's sword;

The raw and hardy peasants of the field,

Train'd up to arms, inur'd to feats of war,

Op'd their full veins and wash'd in native gore

The field, the village, and their father's tombs,

Ere they establish'd liberty and peace.

Their ancient victories shall be recall'd

By the warm fluid from Don Juan's heart,

Ere he'll submit to drag about this shell

Through nature's system, as an useless drone,

Or live the slave of any lawless power.

Donna Maria

O Heaven forbid!---nor dash my country's hopes;

Or premature, cut down before the noon

A life of glory and heroic worth,

And blast success, while virtue lifts the sword.

Don Juan De Padilla

Sure life protracted is a vulgar wish,

Unless some noble end blows up the flame.

Donna Maria

Spite of myself, I have betray'd a tear;

But feel my courage brighten by thy side;

Nor shall the weakness of my sex again,

Create a fear that may disturb thy peace.

Don Juan De Padilla

Haste back, my love, lest some mishap befal;

The good Zemora guard, Toledo's gates

With vigilance and faith;---there thou art safe.

Protect my son, and guard his infant years;

In his young bosom nurture every truth,

'Till ripen'd worth and manly virtue glow,

And mark him thine and thy Padilla's son.

The hasty moments fly---I must away---

I risque a battle on the morning dawn.

Donna Maria

O may we meet against with brighter hopes!---

Don Juan De Padilla

We meet again with glory and renown---

Or, meet no more.------

Donna Maria

---------------------Or meet no more!

The dread idea stiffens every nerve.

Don Juan De Padilla

Let no ill omen'd word escape thy lip.

Fair freedom stands, and waves her laurel high;

She, on the acme of her burnish'd throne,

Shall hail the morrow with applauding shouts,

And greet Maria, as the guardian queen

Of union, peace, and liberty to Spain.

(Exeunt)

Scene V

(Don Juan De Padilla and Don Pedro)

Don Pedro Ghiron

Toledo's banners reach the pendant skies,

And kiss the winds, and hail the work begun:

I sicken for the signal to the field,

When a decisive conflict must ensue;

I burn, I languish, till the tyrant falls,

With all the flatt'rers that surround his throne.

Don Juan De Padilla

Be temperate in words, but bold in deeds;

Most men are brave till courage has been try'd,

And boast of virtue till their price is known:---

But thirst of gold---the cursed thirst of gold,

Which plunder'd Mexico of all its wealth,

And broil'd her valiant sons in quest of more,

Is a severer tyrant of the mind,

Than coarser vice that mark'd our simpler state,

Ere cruel Spain explor'd that distant world.

Then golden bribes corrupted not the mind;

No son of Castile, or of Arragon,

E'er sold his honour, or relinquish'd fame,

For soft refinements that flow in with wealth,

Nor stoop'd to wear the liv'ry of a slave.

Don Pedro Ghiron

Let not a coward, or a knave be spar'd,

Who shrouds his head from danger or from death,

When freedom's cause stands trembling on the sword.

Don Juan De Padilla

Tomorrow gives a glorious test of worth;

Courage will shine conspicuously bright,

Or guilt may shake and dash the nerveless arm,

That draws a sword to massacre the brave.

Don Pedro Ghiron

Virtue's fair image then will shield thy head,

And animate the man who dare be free.

(Flourish of trumpets, and alarm without)

Don Juan De Padilla

The hostile clarion summons to the field.

(Pedro greatly agitated)

Hah!---pale and trembling at the trumpet's sound!---

Pedro, haste on, and take thy destin'd post,

'Twill lead to glory, conquest, and to fame;

To sure renown, if valour guides thy arm;

But certain infamy, disgrace and death,

If treason lurks beneath the guise of zeal.

(Exit Don Juan)

Don Pedro Ghiron, solus.

Curse on Don Juan's penetrating eye---

He's prob'd my soul---suspects I am a villain:---

'Tis true that envy of his fame at first,

Bound the bright helmet on Don Pedro's brow,

And not the bubble freedom---empty name!---

'Tis all a puff---a visionary dream---

That kindles up this patriotic flame;

'Tis rank self love, conceal'd beneath a mask

Of public good. The hero's brain inflates---

He cheats himself by the false medium,

Held in virtue's guise, till he believes it just:

But the vile rabble---the plebeian race,

Made for the yoke, bend like the servile mule,

And own mankind were made for slaves to power.

A waxen pillar in the central point

Of sol's meridian beams, melts not so fast,

As will their army waste by court intrigues,

By fraud, by bribes, by flattery and fear:

A slow campaign ensures success to Charles---

A weak, plebeian, discontented band,

Will soon grow weary, and desert their chiefs.

I will retard, embarrass, and delay;

Sow discord round, while they inactive lie:

Then fly secure to Don Urano's roof.

My fire detests this noisy factious rout,

And opes his arms to welcome my return;

And Don Velasco pays a noble price---

His price would bribe a prince to quit his crown.

Let nations sink---posterity be thrall'd---

Vice reign triumphant---liberty expire---

May I but humble haughty Juan's pride,

And gain Louisa---as the bless'd reward.

(Exit)