SCENE I.--VICTORIA'_s Chamber_.

_Enter_ ALPHONSO, _with Music_.

_A Song is sung; when it is beginning_, VICTORIA _enters_.

SONG OF JEALOUSY.

_What state of life can be so blest As love, that warms a lover's breast? Two souls in one, the same desire To grant the bliss, and to require! But if in heaven a hell we find, 'Tis all from thee, O Jealousy! 'Tis all from thee, O Jealousy! Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!_

_All other ills, though sharp they prove, Serve to refine, and perfect love: In absence, or unkind disdain, Sweet hope relieves the lover's pain. But, ah! no cure but death we find, To set us free From Jealousy: O Jealousy! Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind._

_False in thy glass all objects are, Some set too near, and some too far; Thou art the fire of endless night, The fire that burns, and gives no light. All torments of the damned we find In only thee, O Jealousy! Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!_ [_Exeunt Musicians._

_Alph._ 'Tis true, my tyrant father has confined me; But love, who traverses the world at will, Who knows not awe, nor law, nor parentage, Has broke my tedder, and enlarged my bounds.

_Vict._ Retire betimes; the court is full of eyes, As eagles sharp, fatal as basilisks, Who live on looking, and who see no death[58].

_Alph._ I come but to depart, and go for ever, Because denied the common rights of nature, Which the first brother and first sister had. Why were not you and I that happy pair? But nature doats with age.

_Vict._ Whate'er it be, 'tis past redress, Alphonso.

_Alph._ But, then, shall Garcia take thee in his arms, Glutted with joys which I would die to taste! No, let me stab the wretch in every vein, And leave him dry of pleasure, ere we part.

_Vict._ Alphonso, no; you cannot kill Don Garcia, But you declare the cause, and own your love.

_Alph._ And what care I, what after ages say Alphonso did, to make Alphonso happy? But oh, you love! and would preserve his life To be for ever his.

_Vict._ My dearest brother, I hate your rival, and I die for you: All but my spotless honour shall be yours.

_Alph._ By heaven!--but that word heaven comes cross my thoughts--

_Vict._ Beware: for by my own I guess your passion. You would, I fear--

_Alph._ Enjoy my heaven one moment--

_Vict._ And part with it for ever: Think on that.

_Alph._ That moment were eternity in little: A mighty sum, but taken on content, To save the tedious telling o'er and o'er.

_Vict._ Oh, we are too long together.

_Alph._ Fear you that?

_Vict._ I ought to fear it, but I trust my virtue. Depart, my soul,--I will not ask you whither, For fear I should repent of my repentance, And follow you to death.

_Alph._ I go, Victoria, For love's cold fit of jealousy returns. You must not be Don Garcia's; swear you will not.

_Vict._ I swear I will not, by my own consent.

_Alph._ You may be forced;--oh, cursed jealousy, Thou bastard son of Love, unlike thy father, Why dost thou still torment me?

_Vict._ Trust my honour.

_Alph._ That may be chafed into a warmth, Victoria. Talk, seeing, touching, are incendiaries; And these may mount your young desires like straw, To meet the jett that draws you.

_Vict._ Trust my love.

_Alph._ I swear I trust it, but I fear your beauty: 'Tis a fair fruit that hangs upon the bough, Tempts, and is tempted.

_Vict._ 'Tis indeed a fruit. Seen and desired by all, while yet unpulled, But can be gathered by one only hand.

_Alph._ That one is Garcia;--still the fit returns: I wish my jealousy could quench my love.

_Vict._ It cannot, if I measure yours by mine; Or, if extinguished, like a trail of smoke From a wax taper, soon would light again.

_Alph._ 'Tis so; for when I say I will not love, Then I love most. Farewell, my only joy! I go to hide me from the world and you.

_Vict._ As, when the sun is down, His light is clipt into a thousand stars, So your sweet image, though you shine not on me, Will gild the horror of the night, and make A pleasing scene of solitary grief.

_Enter_ VERAMOND _and_ XIMENA, _he with an Ovid in his hand_.

_Vera._ How darest thou, rebel, thus provoke my patience Beyond all sufferance, and transgress thy bounds?

_Alph._ When kings and fathers, on their sons and subjects Exact intolerable things to bear, Nature and self-defence dispense with duty.

_Vera._ Oh, heaven! what horrid sin have I committed That I was punished to beget this son?

_Alph._ I could ask heaven another question too, But that 'tis not so decent. In few words; Hither I came to take my latest leave Of dear Victoria, then depart for ever; And, buried in some solitary cave, Forgetting and forgotten, end my days.

_Vera._ 'Tis what thou hast deserved: perform thy penance.

_Xim._ So hard a sentence for so small a fault? Are you a father, sir!

_Vera._ Is he a son? Thou knowest not his offence. But mark the glowing blood, the guilty flush Upon Victoria's face, and read it there.

_Xim._ I know not what you mean.

_Vera_ Victoria, speak, And clear yourself:--she answers not a word. Nay, then my fears are true, on both sides guilty.

_Vict._ 'Tis found, and we are lost. [_Aside._

_Vera._ But what needs more conviction? know you this? [_Shewing the Ovid to_ ALPH. This book, the tutor of incestuous love? The page is doubled down, and points thee to thy crime. I feared, before, from every rolling glance, How quick they shot upon thy sister's face; And she received them all, like smoking flax; Confessed the fire, and answered to the flame.

_Vict._ I love my brother, and avow that fire! His love to me has raised his noble thoughts To brave achievements for your crown and you: For love's the steel that strikes upon the flint; Gives coldness heat, exerts the hidden flame, And spreads the sparkles round, to warm the world.

_Vera._ Oh, heavens, she makes a merit of her crime! Victoria, I would yet think better of thee, And therefore dare I not enquire too far, Willing to doubt the guilt I fear to find. Depart, and answer not.-- [_Exit_ VICT. For thee, whom I abhor to call my son, [_To_ ALPH. 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: O 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 shews 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 in 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 awless 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 farther shall proceed to speak, Command your royal prisoner to be brought; For I must be confronted with Ramirez, And in his presence tell you wonderous 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_ VER.] 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 faulters, 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! Oh 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 land-marks, 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.

_Ver._ 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 prest for service. [_He comes to_ ALPH. _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 scape-goat driven into the desart, 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._