The Revenge: A Tragedy

by Edward Young

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.THE SAME.

Enter Don Manuel and Zanga.

Zan. If this be true, I cannot blame your pain

For wretched Carlos; 'tis but humane in you.

But when arriv'd your dismal news?

Man. This hour.

Zan. What, not a vessel sav'd?

Man. All, all, the storm

Devour'd; and now o'er his late envy'd fortune

The dolphins bound, and wat'ry mountains roar,

Triumphant in his ruin.

Zan. Is Alvarez

Determin'd to deny his daughter to him.

That treasure was on shore; must that too join

The common wreck?

Man. Alvarez pleads, indeed,

That Leonora's heart is disinclin'd,

And pleads that only; so it was this morning,

When he coucurr'd: the tempest broke the match;

And sunk his favour, when it sunk the gold.

The love of gold is double in his heart;

The vice of age, and of Alvarez too.

Zan. How does don Carlos bear it?

Man. Like a man

Whose heart feels most a human heart can feel,

And reasons best a human head can reason.

Zan. But is he then in absolute despair?

Man. Never to see his Leonora more.

And, quite to quench all future hope, Alvarez

Urges Alonzo to espouse his daughter

This very day; for he has learn'd their loves.

Zan. Ha! was not that receiv'd with ecstasy

By don Alonzo?

Man. Yes, at first; but soon

A damp came o'er him, it would kill his friend.

Zan. Not if his friend consented: and since now

He can't himself espouse her—

Man. Yet, to ask it

Has something shocking to a gen'rous mind;

At least, Alonzo's spirit startles at it.

Wide is the distance between our despair,

And giving up a mistress to another.

But I must leave you. Carlos wants support

In his severe affliction.[exit.

Zan. Ha, it dawns!—

It rises to me, like a new-found world

To mariners long time distress'd at sea,

Sore from a storm, and all their viands spent;

Or like the sun just rising out of chaos,

Some dregs of ancient night not quite purg'd off.

But shall I finish it?—Hoa, Isabella!

Enter Isabella.

I thought of dying; better things come forward;

Vengeance is still alive! from her dark covert,

With all her snakes erect upon her crest,

She stalks in view, and fires me with her charms.

When, Isabella, arriv'd don Carlos here?

Isa. Two nights ago.

Zan. That was the very night

Before the battle—Mem'ry, set down that;

It has the essence of a crocodile,

Though yet but in the shell—I'll give it birth—

What time did he return?

Isa. At midnight.

Zan. So—

Say, did he see that night his Leonora?

Isa. No, my good lord.

Zan. No matter—tell me, woman,

Is not Alonzo rather brave than cautious,

Honest than subtle, above fraud himself,

Slow, therefore, to suspect it in another?

Isa. You best can judge; but so the world thinks of him.

Zan. Why, that was well—go, fetch my tablets hither.

[exit Isabella.

Two nights ago my father's sacred shade

Thrice stalk'd around my bed, and smil'd upon me:

He smil'd, a joy then little understood—

It must be so—and if so, it is vengeance

Worth waking of the dead for.

Re-enter Isabella, with the tablets; Zanga writes,

then reads as to himself.

Thus it stands—

The father's fix'd—Don Carlos cannot wed—

Alonzo may—but that will hurt his friend—

Nor can he ask his leave—or, if he did,

He might not gain it—It is hard to give

Our own consent to ills, though we must bear them.

Were it not then a master-piece worth all

The wisdom I can boast, first to persuade

Alonzo to request it of his friend,

His friend to grant—then from that very grant,

The strongest proof of friendship man can give

(And other motives), to work out a cause

Of jealousy, to rack Alonzo's peace?

I have turn'd o'er the catalogue of human woes,

Which sting the heart of man, and find none equal.

It is the hydra of calamities,

The sev'nfold death; the jealous are the damn'd.

Oh, jealousy, each other passion's calm

To thee, thou conflagration of the soul!

Thou king of torments, thou grand counterpoise

For all the transports beauty can inspire!

Isa. Alonzo comes this way.

Zan. Most opportunely.—

Withdraw.[exit Isabella.

Enter Don Alonzo.

My lord, I give you joy.

Alon. Of what, good Zanga?

Zan. Is not the lovely Leonora yours?

Alon. What will become of Carlos?

Zan. He's your friend;

And since he can't espouse the fair himself,

Will take some comfort from Alonzo's fortune.

Alon. Alas, thou little know'st the force of love!

Love reigns a sultan with unrival'd sway;

Puts all relations, friendship's self to death,

If once he's jealous of it. I love Carlos;

Yet well I know what pangs I felt this morning

At his intended nuptials. For myself

I then felt pains, which now for him I feel.

Zan. You will not wed her then?

Alon. Not instantly.

Insult his broken heart the very moment!

Zan. I understand you: but you'll wed hereafter,

When your friend's gone, and his first pain assuag'd.

Alon. Am I to blame in that?

Zan. My lord, I love

Your very errors; they are born from virtue.

Your friendship (and what nobler passion claims

The heart?) does lead you blindfold to your ruin.

Consider, wherefore did Alvarez break

Don Carlos' match, and wherefore urge Alonzo's?

'Twas the same cause, the love of wealth. To-morrow

May see Alonzo in don Carlos' fortune;

A higher bidder is a better friend,

And there are princes sigh for Leonora.

When your friend's gone, you'll wed; why, then the cause

Which gives you Leonora now, will cease.

Carlos has lost her; should you lose her too,

Why, then you heap new torments on your friend,

By that respect which labour'd to relieve him—

'Tis well, he is disturb'd; it makes him pause.[aside.

Alon. Think'st thou, my Zanga, should I ask don Carlos,

His goodness would consent that I should wed her?

Zan. I know, it would.

Alon. But then the cruelty

To ask it, and for me to ask it of him!

Zan. Methinks, you are severe upon your friend.

Who was it gave him liberty and life?

Alon. That is the very reason which forbids it.

Were I a stranger I could freely speak:

In me it so resembles a demand,

Exacting of a debt, it shocks my nature.

Zan. My lord, you know the sad alternative.

Is Leonora worth one pang or not?

It hurts not me, my lord, but as I love you:

Warmly as you I wish don Carlos well;

But I am likewise don Alonzo's friend:

There all the diff'rence lies between us two.

In me, my lord, you hear another self;

And, give me leave to add, a better too,

Clear'd from those errors, which, though caus'd by virtue,

Are such as may hereafter give you pain—

Don Lopez of Castile would not demur thus.

Alon. Perish the name! What, sacrifice the fair

To age and ugliness, because set in gold?

I'll to don Carlos, if my heart will let me.

I have not seen him since his sore affliction;

But shunn'd it, as too terrible to bear.

How shall I bear it now? I'm struck already.[exit.

Zan. Half of my work is done. I must secure

Don Carlos, ere Alonzo speak with him.

[he gives a message to a Servant, then returns.

Proud, hated Spain, oft drench'd in Moorish blood!

Dost thou not feel a deadly foe within thee?

Shake not the tow'rs where'er I pass along,

Conscious of ruin, and their great destroyer?

Shake to the centre, if Alonzo's dear.

Look down, oh, holy prophet! see me torture

This Christian dog, this infidel, who dares

To smite thy votaries, and spurn thy law;

And yet hopes pleasure from two radiant eyes,

Which look as they were lighted up for thee!

Shall he enjoy thy paradise below?

Blast the bold thought, and curse him with her charms!

But see, the melancholy lover comes.

Enter Don Carlos.

Car. Hope, thou hast told me lies from day to day,

For more than twenty years; vile promiser!

None here are happy, but the very fool,

Or very wise: I am not fool enough

To smile in vanities, and hug a shadow;

Nor have I wisdom to elaborate

An artificial happiness from pains:

Ev'n joys are pains, because they cannot last.[sighs.

How many lift the head, look gay and smile,

Against their consciences? And this we know,

Yet, knowing, disbelieve, and try again

What we have try'd, and struggle with conviction.

Each new experience gives the former credit;

And rev'rend grey threescore is but a voucher,

That thirty told us true.

Zan. My noble lord,

I mourn your fate: but are no hopes surviving?

Car. No hopes. Alvarez has a heart of steel.

'Tis fix'd—'tis past—'tis absolute despair!

Zan. You wanted not to have your heart made tender,

By your own pains, to feel a friend's distress.

Car. I understand you well. Alonzo loves;

I pity him.

Zan. I dare be sworn you do.

Yet he has other thoughts.

Car. What canst thou mean?

Zan. Indeed he has; and fears to ask a favour

A stranger from a stranger might request;

What costs you nothing, yet is all to him:

Nay, what indeed will to your glory add,

For nothing more than wishing your friend well.

Car. I pray be plain; his happiness is mine.

Zan. He loves to death; but so reveres his friend,

He can't persuade his heart to wed the maid

Without your leave, and that he fears to ask.

In perfect tenderness I urg'd him to it.

Knowing the deadly sickness of his heart,

Your overflowing goodness to your friend,

Your wisdom, and despair yourself to wed her,

I wrung a promise from him he would try:

And now I come, a mutual friend to both,

Without his privacy, to let you know it,

And to prepare you kindly to receive him.

Car. Ha! if he weds, I am undone indeed;

Not don Alvarez' self can then relieve me.

Zan. Alas, my lord, you know his heart is steel:

"'Tis fixed, 'tis past, 'tis absolute despair."

Car. Oh, cruel heav'n! and is it not enough

That I must never, never see her more?

Say, is it not enough that I must die;

But I must be tormented in the grave?—

Ask my consent!—Must I then give her to him?

Lead to his nuptial sheets the blushing maid?

Oh!—Leonora! never, never, never!

Zan. A storm of plagues upon him! he refuses.[aside.

Car. What, wed her—and to-day?

Zan. To-day, or never.

To-morrow may some wealthier lover bring,

And then Alonzo is thrown out like you:

Then whom shall he condemn for his misfortune?

Carlos is an Alvarez to his love.

Car. Oh, torment! whither shall I turn?

Zan. To peace.

Car. Which is the way?

Zan. His happiness is yours——

I dare not disbelieve you.

Car. Kill my friend!

Or worse—Alas! and can there be a worse?

A worse there is: nor can my nature bear it.

Zan. You have convinc'd me 'tis a dreadful task.

I find Alonzo's quitting her this morning

For Carlos' sake, in tenderness to you,

Betray'd me to believe it less severe

Than I perceive it is.

Car. Thou dost upbraid me.

Zan. No, my good lord; but since you can't comply,

'Tis my misfortune that I mention'd it;

For had I not, Alonzo would indeed

Have died, as now, but not by your decree.

Car. By my decree! Do I decree his death?

I do—Shall I then lead her to his arms?

Oh, which side shall I take? Be stabb'd, or—stab?

'Tis equal death! a choice of agonies!——

Ah, no!—all other agonies are ease

To one—O Leonora!—never, never!

Go, Zanga, go, defer the dreadful trial,

Though but a day; something, perchance, may happen

To soften all to friendship and to love.

Go, stop my friend, let me not see him now;

But save us from an interview of death.

Zan. My lord, I'm bound in duty to obey you——

If I not bring him, may Alonzo prosper![aside, exit.

Car. What is this world?—Thy school, oh, misery!

Our only lesson is to learn to suffer;

And he who knows not that was born for nothing.

But put it most severely—should I live—

Live long—alas, there is no length in time!

Nor in thy time, oh, man!—What's fourscore years

Nay, what, indeed, the age of time itself,

Since cut from out eternity's wide round?

Yet Leonora—she can make time long,

Its nature alter, as she alter'd mine.

While in the lustre of her charms I lay,

Whole summer suns roll'd unperceiv'd away;

I years for days, and days for moments, told,

And was surpris'd to hear that I grew old.

Now fate does rigidly its dues regain,

And ev'ry moment is an age of pain.

Enter Zanga and Don Alonzo; Zanga stops Don Carlos.

Zan. Is this don Carlos? this the boasted friend?

How can you turn your back upon his sadness?

Look on him, and then leave him if you can.

Car. I cannot yield; nor can I bear his griefs.

Alonzo![goes to him, and takes his hand.

Alon. Oh, Carlos!

Car. Pray, forbear.

Alon. Art thou undone, and shall Alonzo smile?

Alonzo, who, perhaps, in some degree

Contributed to cause thy dreadful fate?

I was deputed guardian of thy love;

But, oh! I lov'd myself! Pour down, afflictions!

On this devoted head; make me your mark;

And be the world by my example taught,

How sacred it should hold the name of friend.

Car. You charge yourself unjustly: well I know

The only cause of my severe affliction.

Alvarez, curs'd Alvarez!—So much anguish

Felt for so small a failure, is one merit

Which faultless virtue wants. The crime was mine,

Who plac'd thee there, where only thou couldst fail;

Though well I knew that dreadful post of honour

I gave thee to maintain. Ah! who could bear

Those eyes unhurt? The wounds myself have felt

(Which wounds alone should cause me to condemn thee,)

They plead in thy excuse; for I too strove

To shun those fires, and found 'twas not in man.

Alon. You cast in shades the failure of a friend,

And soften all; but think not you deceive me;

I know my guilt, and I implore your pardon,

As the sole glimpse I can obtain of peace.

Car. Pardon for him, who but this morning threw

Fair Leonora from his heart, all bath'd

In ceaseless tears, and blushing for her love!

Who, like a rose-leaf wet with morning dew,

Would have stuck close, and clung for ever there!

But 'twas in thee, through fondness for thy friend,

To shut thy bosom against ecstacies;

For which, while this pulse beats, it beats to thee;

While this blood flows, it flows for my Alonzo,

And every wish is levell'd at thy joy.

Zan. [to Alon.] My lord, my lord, this is your time to speak.

Alon. [to Zan.] Because he's kind? It therefore is the worst;

Do I not see him quite possess'd with anguish,

And shall I pour in new? No, fond desire;

No, love: one pang at parting, and farewell,

I have no other love but Carlos now.

Car. Alas! my friend, why with such eager grasp

Dost press my hand, and weep upon my cheek?

Alon. If, after death, our forms (as some believe)

Shall be transparent, naked every thought,

And friends meet friends, and read each other's hearts,

Thou'lt know one day that thou wast held most dear,

Farewell.

Car. Alonzo, stop—he cannot speak—[holds him.

Lest it should grieve me—Shall I be outdone?

And lose in glory, as I lose in love?[aside.

I take it much unkindly, my Alonzo,

You think so meanly of me not to speak,

When well I know your heart is near to bursting.

Have you forgot how you have bound me to you?

Your smallest friendship's liberty and life.

Alon. There, there it is, my friend; it cuts me there.

How dreadful is it to a generous mind

To ask, when sure it cannot be deny'd!

Car. How greatly thought! In all he towers above me.

[aside.

Then you confess you would ask something of me?

Alon. No, on my soul.

Zan. [to Alon.] Then lose her.

Car. Glorious spirit!

Why, what a pang has he run through for this!

By heaven, I envy him his agonies.[aside.

My Alonzo!

Since thy great soul disdains to make request,

Receive with favour that I make to thee.

Alon. What means my Carlos?

Car. Pray observe me well.

Fate and Alvarez tore her from my heart,

And, plucking up my love, they had well nigh

Pluck'd up life too, for they were twin'd together.

Of that no more—What now does reason bid?

I cannot wed—Farewell, my happiness!

But, O my soul, with care provide for hers!

In life, how weak, how helpless, is a woman!

Take then my heart in dowry with the fair,

Be thou her guardian, and thou must be mine;

Shut out the thousand pressing ills of life

With thy surrounding arms—Do this, and then

Set down the liberty and life thou gav'st me,

As little things, as essays of thy goodness,

And rudiments of friendship so divine.

Alon. There is a grandeur in thy goodness to me,

Which with thy foes would render thee ador'd.

Car. I do not part with her, I give her thee.

Alon. O, Carlos!

But think not words were ever made

For such occasions. Silence, tears, embraces,

Are languid eloquence; I'll seek relief

In absence from the pain of so much goodness,

There, thank the blest above, thy sole superiors,

Adore, and raise my thoughts of them by thee.[exit.

Zan. Thus far success has crown'd my boldest hope.

My next care is to hasten these new nuptials,

And then my master-works begin to play.[aside.

Why that was greatly done, without one sigh[to Car.

To carry such a glory to its period.

Car. Too soon thou praisest me. He's gone, and now

I must unsluice my over-burden'd heart,

And let it flow. I would not grieve my friend

With tears; nor interrupt my great design;

Great, sure, as ever human breast durst think of.

But now my sorrows, long with pain supprest,

Burst their confinement with impetuous sway,

O'er-swell all bounds, and bear e'en life away:

So till the day was won, the Greek renown'd

With anguish wore the arrow in his wound,

Then drew the shaft from out his tortur'd side,

Let gush the torrent of his blood, and dy'd.[exeunt.

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