by John Dryden
And wish thou wert a stranger to my blood —
Xim. That was a happy hint, I must improve it. — [Aside.
Vera. One way, and only one, remains to clear thee:
If with a holy fire thou lov’st thy sister,
Aspiring but to fame, not sinking down
Into the abyss of lust unnatural,
Consent that she may be Don Garcia’s wife;
Else give the lie to all thy fair pretences,
And stand exposed a monster of mankind.
Foul as the fiends which fell from heaven’s high towers,
Fall thou from empire so; and from my sight
Depart, accursed for ever.
Alph. Gladly I leave you, but shall go more lightly,
If eased of this your dreadful imprecation:
Oh let me go unloaded with your curse,
And I will bless you for my banishment!
Vera. So may that blessing or that curse o’ertake thee,
As thou obeyest or disobeyest my will.
Alph. Guiltless of sin, with conscience to my friend,
I go, to shun that fatal hour, that shows me
Victoria married, and Alphonso lost.
[He is going.
Xim. Stay yet, Alphonso, for one moment stay:
For somewhat, if I durst, I have to speak,
Which would at least take half thy load away,
And free thy shoulders from the weight of sin.
Vera. Ximena, darest thou hope to palliate incest,
And gild so black a crime?
Xim. I gild it not; but, if I prove it none,
You may be kind, Alphonso may be happy,
And these domestic jars for ever cease.
Vera. Explain yourself.
Xim. Afford me then your patience.
A mighty secret labours in my soul,
And, like a rushing stream, breaks down the dam;
This day must give it vent. It rests on you
To make it end in a tempestuous night,
Or in a glorious evening.
Vera. No more preface.
Xim. You wonder at Alphonso’s haughty carriage,
His fiery temper, and his lawless mind.
Vera. Too true, Ximena.
Xim. And he wonders more
At your harsh nature, and your rugged usage,
On each side unbecoming son and father;
And yet the cause of both is to be found.
But, ere I further shall proceed to speak,
Command your royal prisoner to be brought;
For I must be confronted with Ramirez,
And in his presence tell you wondrous things,
Which if he vouch not, let Ximena die.
Vera. I sent for him to hear his final doom,
And think he waits without. —
Admit the prisoner.
[He goes to the door, and speaks.
Enter Ramirez, guarded.
Now, sir, is yet your haughty soul resolved
To quit your empty title for your freedom?
Xim. Ramirez, answer not to raise his passion:
For now the important secret of our lives
Must come to public view; and on that hinge
Depends thy crown, thy liberty, and life,
My honour, and thy son’s.
Alph. What means my mother? [Aside.
Vera. A son, Ramirez!
Ram. Yes, a son I had.
Vera. He died an infant here in Saragossa.
Ram. A living son I have; and, since the queen
Is pleased to expose my life
Before a judge so prejudiced as you,
Undaunted, in the face of death, I speak,
And claim Alphonso mine.
Vera. There needs no more: I spare thee all the rest;
My wife’s adultery, thy foul interloping,
My own dishonour, and that bastard’s birth.
Xim. Injurious words, unfitting you to speak,
And me, my lord, and those concerned, to hear.
Alph. [To Vera.] Though I would give whate’er the sun beholds
Not to be yours, yet, when my mother’s fame
Is questioned, none shall wrong her innocence;
Nor shall Ramirez go
Unpunished for that infamous aspersion.
Ram. Alphonso, peace; your father bids you peace.
Vera. Then, what am I?
Ram. His foster-father.
Vera. Impudently said;
And yet I hope ’tis true. So much I hate him,
That I could buy the public scorn, to be
An alien to his blood.
Xim. Have patience, sir,
And you shall have your wish on cheaper terms;
But hear me speak.
Vera. Good heaven, then give me patience!
Xim. When you and brave Ramirez, then your friend,
Me and my sister married, four full years
We passed in barren wedlock, childless both;
Ramirez, you remember, brought his queen
To Saragossa on a friendly visit;
Then, as we both were married on one day,
We both conceived together.
Vera. I observe it, —
That, when Ramirez came, you both conceived!
Mark that, and, if thou hast the face, proceed.
Xim. My lord, I dare: —
You took me once aside, and, as your rage
Inspired your soul, spoke thus: Ximena, know,
That, if the fruit thou bear’st be not a son,
Henceforth no more my queen, we part for ever.
The word was hard, I bore it as I could;
I prayed, and heaven, in pity, heard my vows:
Two boys, in one fair morning, were disclosed
By me, and by my sister;
And both the fathers equally were blest.
Vera. Say one was blest with two, and speak more truly.
Xim. Forbear this language, sir, or I am dumb.
It seems that you deserved not him you had,
For in seven days heaven ravished your Alphonso;
My sister’s little Veramond survived,
And she’s a living witness of this truth.
Great was my grief, but greater was my fear,
From your, alas! too much experienced anger.
Thus low reduced, and urged by anxious thoughts
Of what I might expect from your unkindness, —
Now, speak, Ramirez, and relate the rest;
For my tongue falters, and denies its office,
So much I fear my lord should take offence.
Ram. Then, like or disapprove it, thus it was:
She told my wife and me this mournful story;
Her fears, for thy resentment of thy loss,
If, by misfortune, it should reach thy ears,
Begged secrecy, and then implored our aid
To substitute the living for the dead,
And make our Veramond pass for thy Alphonso.
A hard request, but, with compassion moved,
At length ’twas granted.
Vera. Is this true, Ximena?
Xim. So heaven and you forgive my pious fraud,
As what he says is certain.
Alph. O joyful news! O happy day! too good
To end in night — My father, and my king!
[Runs to RAMIREZ, kneels to him, and kisses his hand.
My soul foreknew you, with a sure presage
Of native duty, and instinctive love.
Ram. Arise, my son.
Vera. You own him, then?
Ram. I do.
Vera. A welcome riddance.
Meantime, in prospect of a double crown,
You gave the sparrow leave to brood upon
The cuckoo’s egg.
Ram. The advantage was to you:
He proved his blood upon me, when we fought;
Fierce eagles never procreate fearful doves.
I sent him word
he was my son before
The battle, but the hand of fate was in it,
The note miscarried, and we blindly met.
Xim. Past accidents embitter both your minds;
Think forward on your mutual interest.
Alphonso loves Victoria:
I saw it in the seeds, before disclosed
To other eyes; connived at it, approved it.
Vera. A most commodious mother!
Xim. Blame me not
Guilt there was none, but in their apprehension;
And both their virtues barred ill consequences.
Now take the blest occasion by the foretop,
And on their marriage found a lasting peace.
Ram. A trivial accident begot this war;
Some paltry bounds of ill-distinguished earth,
A clod that lay betwixt us unascertained,
And royal pride, on both sides, drew our swords:
Thus monarchs quarrel, and their subjects bleed.
Remove your landmarks, set them where you please;
Stretch out your Arragon on my Castile;
And be once more my brother.
Alph. I implore it;
And, prostrate, beg your pardon and your grace.
I have offended in my proud behaviour;
But make Victoria mine, and what your son
In duty wanted, by your son-in-law
Shall doubly be supplied.
Xim. What would you more?
Vera. [To her.] Are you the mediatrix of this peace?
Xim. It well becomes the softness of my sex
To mediate for sweet peace, the best of blessings;
And, like a Sabine wife, to run betwixt
Relations’ lifted swords.
Vera. A rare chaste Sabine, you!
To save the adulterer of thy husband’s bed.
See there, Alphonso’s father, that old goat,
Who on two sisters propagated lust,
And got two children, for himself and me.
Suppose thee chaste, — a favourable guess To any of thy sex, — these are my foes;
[To Ramirez.] Thou first, the former sharer of my sheets,
A king without a kingdom; thine is conquered,
And Garcia with Victoria shall enjoy it.
Ram. So monstrously you wrong your wife and me —
Vera. No more, my will is law.
Ram. So tyrants say. — Vera. I will not hear thee speak. — Conduct him hence,
And stow him in the dungeon’s depth with toads. [ The Guards carry off Ramirez.
[To Alph.] For thee, the worthy son of such a father —— [Walks by himself.
Xim. [To Alph.]’Tis desperate now; and I with ill-timed zeal,
Have hastened your destruction.
Alph [To her.] You have saved me.
Vera. [Aside.] Say I should put the ungrateful wretch to death: —
He’s thought my son, and, whilst so thought,
’tis dangerous
To imprison him; the people might rebel.
He’s popular, and I am ill beloved.
Then banish him; — that’s best, but yet unsafe:
He may with foreign aid reconquer all.
I’ll venture that, with Garcia to my friend;
He shall recall his troops, mine are at hand,
And ready pressed for service.
[He comes to Alphonso and Ximena.
Xim. Now the storm.
Vera. [To Alph.] Thy doom’s resolved; too gentle for thy crimes.
I spare thy life, depart to banishment;
To-morrow leave the realm, this day the town,
And, like the scapegoat driven into the desert,
Bear all ill omens with thee.
Alph. Proud of my exile, with erected face,
I leave your court, your town, and your dominions,
Pleased that I love at least without a crime.
Lighter by what I lost, I tread in air,
Unhappy, but triumphant in despair.
[Exit Alphonso.
Vera. Behold how haughtily he strides away,
Lofty and bold; as if not banished hence,
But seeking for some other place to reign.
I think he cannot hope; but, lest he should,
Victoria soon shall be Don Garcia’s bride.
[To Ximena.] Go, madam, for I know you are in haste,
To greet your daughter with this goodly news.
Tell her, Alphonso is no more my son;
But tell her too, he shall not be her husband.
Bid her prepare herself to wed Navarre;
Whether by force, or by consent, I care not;
To-morrow shall determine that affair.
Nor shall my will be frustrate, or delayed;
(Kings are not kings, unless they be obeyed.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The Street before Lopez’s House.
Enter Sancho, habited like Don Alonzo de
Cardona with a hunchback, Dalinda meeting him.
Dal. I watched your coming at the window, and told my father. He’s coming out to welcome you.
San. But if I chance to break out into a little wit sometimes, you’ll excuse my frailty.
Dal. Pugh! you are so suspicious of yourself, and have so little reason for it. Be as witty as you can: I fear you not.
Enter Don Lopez, and salutes him.
Lop. Noble Conde, you are welcome from the wars. And who did best in the battle, I beseech your honour?
San. Why, next my honour, one Colonel
Sancho did best.
Lop. Who, Sancho? he’s little better than a coxcomb.
San. Nay, he has too much wit; if he had as much grace, ‘twould be better for him.
Lop. But he’s your lordship’s rival in my daughter.
San. Is he so? then make much of him, old gentleman.
Lop. You would not have me prefer him to your excellency?
San. Faith, you can hardly choose amiss betwixt us two; he’s my other self, man.
Lop. I make a vast difference betwixt you.
San. That shall be a very good jest between you and me another time.
Dal. [ Aside.] The fool’s too much a fool; he’s going to discover himself, if I prevent it not. — [To Lopez.] Make haste, father, and put him upon the point, or he’ll give me up to Sancho.
Lop. Let Sancho be no fool, since your lordship pleases; for he is not bound to make my daughter any satisfaction, as you are.
San. And satisfaction she shall have. What,
I hope you don’t think I am a eunuch?
Dal. [Aside.] O heaven! I shall be ruined between them; I forgot to instruct my father not to meddle with that point. — [To Lopez.]
Say no more of it, I beseech you, sir.
Lop. [To her.]’Tis for thy good; let me alone — You know you have injured the poor girl, my lord.
San. Not to my remembrance, senor. You and I may have quarrelled, I confess, and I think
I may have given you some hard words to-day.
Dal. [Aside.] Now has he forgotten he’s my lord, and is harping upon the quarrel he had with him as Sancho. This must end in my destruction.
Lop. Your lordship and I can have had no quarrel to-day, for I have not seen you this twelvemonth.
San. That’s true; now I remember myself, you have not.
Lop. But that you have wronged my daughter is manifest.
Dal. [To Sancho.] Sir, I must needs speak a word with you in private. If you love me, confess you have enjoyed me; for I told my father so, on purpose to make him the more condescending to the match.
San. [To her.’] A word to the wise, I understand you. Now you shall see me top upon the old fellow. — [To Lopez.] Well, senor, I won’t stand with you for a night’s lodging with your daughter; I acknowledge I have been a little familiar with her, or so: but, to make her amends, I will marry her, and consummate with her most abundantly.
Lop. Then all shall be set right
, and the man shall have his mare again.
Enter Carlos, habited like Sancho.
Lop. What, another Don Alonzo? this is prodigious!
Carl. [Aside, seeing Sancho.] Bless me, the post is taken up already, and the true count is here before me!
Dal. [Aside.] This is not my Conde; but some other counterfeit. — [To Sancho.] You are as true a count as he: stand to your likeness.
San. Would I were out of my likeness!
[Sneaking back.
Dal. Put forward, man, I’ll second you.
San. But what a devilish high back he has gotten, too? he’ll carry me away a pick-a-pack, that’s certain.
Carl. [Aside.] I find him now: by their whispering, and by his awkwardness, this must be Sancho; and I’ll outface him. — [To Lopez.] Senor Don Lopez, I am come, by your permission, to renew my addresses to your fair daughter.
Lop. Your lordship is most welcome.
San. Whose lordship?
Lop. Why, one of your lordships; I know not which, for by your backs you are both my lords. That’s as you two can agree the matter.
San. [To Carlos.] Sirrah, where did you steal that back of mine?
Carl. Sirrah, I was born with it; but what hecamel has your mother been dealing withal, that you are begotten in my resemblance?
San. What, I hope you won’t pretend to pass for the true Conde?
Carl. I am Don Alonzo de Cardona.
San. And so am I.
Carl. If you stay a little longer, I’ll stretch your bones, till you are as straight as an arrow.
San. Do not provoke me; I am mischievously bent.
Carl. Nay, you are bent enough, in conscience; but I have a bent fist for boxing.
San. And I have a straight foot for kicking.
[They come up to each other.
Lop. Here will be bloodshed immediately. — Hold, noblemen both; will ye be content that I should examine ye, and then stand to my award which is the true Conde?
San. Well, to save Christian blood I will.
Carl. And, to save Jewish blood, — that is your blood, sirrah, — I am contented too.
Lop. [To Car.] What command had you, my lord, in the last battle?
Carl. I had none; I was a volunteer, and charged with honourable Colonel Carlos in the fight.
Lop. [To San.] And what command had your lordship there?
San. I had none neither; and I charged with that rogue Carlos.
Lop. [Aside.] So far they are both right, as I have heard. — [To San.] And what became of you afterwards?
San. Now I am posed; for Carlos told me he knew nothing of the count afterward: — Senor, I do not well remember what became of me, for I was in a very great passion; but I did prodigious things, that is certain.
Carl. [To Lop.] Senor, you may see he is a counterfeit, because he knows nothing of himself; but I, the true Conde, was trodden under the horses’ feet, and lay for dead about half an hour.
