SCENE II.—_A Room in the Palace.

_Enter KING._

_King._ Don Mendo comes not back, and must not come, Till he have done his errand. I myself Can have no rest till justice have her due. A son to strike his father in my realm Unawed, and then unpunisht! But by great Heaven the law shall be avenged So long as I shall reign in Arragon. Don Mendo!

_Enter MENDO._

_Mendo._ Let me kiss your Highness’ hand.

_King._ Welcome, thou other Atlas of my realm, Who sharest the weight with me. For I doubt not, Coming thus readily into my presence, You bring Don Lope with you.

_Men._ Yes, my liege; Fast prisoner in my house, that none may see Or talk with him.

_King._ Among your services You have not done a better. The crime is strange, ’tis fit the sentence on it Be memorably just.

_Men._ Most true, my liege, Who I am sure will not be warp’d away By the side current of a first report, But on the whole broad stream of evidence Move to conclusion. I do _know_ this charge Is not so grave as was at first reported.

_King._ But is not thus much clear—that a son smote His father?

_Men._ Yes, my liege.

_King._ And can a charge Be weightier?

_Men._ I confess the naked fact, But ’tis the special cause and circumstance That give the special colour to the crime.

_King._ I shall be glad to have my kingdom freed From the dishonour of so foul a deed By any extenuation.

_Men._ Then I think Your Majesty shall find it here. ’Tis thus: Don Lope, on what ground I do not know, Fights with Don Guillen—in the midst o’ the fray, Comes old Urrea, at the very point When Guillen was about to give the lie To his opponent—which the old man, enraged At such unseemly riot in his house, Gives for him; calls his son a fouler name Than gentleman can bear, and in the scuffle Receives a blow that in his son’s blind rage Was aim’d abroad—in the first heat of passion Throws himself at your feet, and calls for vengeance, Which, as I hear, he now repents him of. He’s old and testy—age’s common fault— And, were not this enough to lame swift justice, There’s an old law in Arragon, my liege, That in our courts father and son shall not Be heard in evidence against each other; In which provision I would fain persuade you Bury this quarrel.

_King._ And this seems just to you?

_Men._ It does, my liege.

_King._ Then not to me, Don Mendo, Who will examine, sentence, and record, Whether in such a scandal to the realm The son be guilty of impiety, Or the sire idle to accuse him of ’t. Therefore I charge you have Urrea too From home to-night, and guarded close alone; It much imports the business.

_Men._ I will, my liege.

[_Exeunt severally._