Enter Henriquez and Melchior.
Mel. And the grave council
Fell blindfold in the snare?
Hen. They could not fail,
So well Cæsario spread it—With such art
He told his tale, and in such glowing colours
Painted Alfonso's worth, and his son's guilt,
That all cried vengeance on the prince Don Pedro,
And bade Cæsario mount his forfeit throne.
Mel. And he, no doubt, obeyed?
Hen. In modest guise
He owned his union with the princess gave him
Some rights, but vowed, so heavy seemed its weight,
He feared to wear a crown, so prayed them spare him:
Till won by urgent prayer at length he yielded,
And kindly deigned to be a king.
Mel. He's here,
And Bazil with him.
Enter Cæsario, father Bazil, and attendants.
Cæsa. (Entering.) Bid her rest assured,
Her king is her first subject. But, good father,
How bears her health, this shock? Say, looks she pale?
Does she e'er name——
Bazil. She bade me lead thee hither,
And claimed my promise not to tell thee more.
I'll warn her, thou art here. [Going.]
Cæsa. Say too, my heart
Shares every pang of her's; that crowns are worthless
Bought with her tears; that could my prayers my blood,
Restore Alfonso's life——
Bazil. Hold!—On that subject
What thou wouldst tell her, will come best from thee. [Exit.
Cæsa. Ha!—Meant he——No! Sure had he known my secret,
The monk had canted 'gainst the guilt of treason,
Thundering out saint-like curses!—--Vile, vile chance,
Which led the princess.—Yet what fear I now?
She keeps my secret: then she loves me still,
And, loving, must forgive me—Hark! I hear her.
Now all ye powers of bland persuasion, shed
Your honey on my lips. Come to my aid,
Ye soft memorials of departed pleasures,
Kind words, fond looks, sweet tears, and melting kisses!
Sighs of compassion, drown her anger's voice!
Smooth ye her frown, smiles of delight and love!
Make her but mine once more, and this day crowns me
Monarch of all my soul e'er wished from fate:
Yes, in my wildest dreams I asked but this,
"Love and revenge! A throne and Amelrosa!"—
Retire!—I dread to meet her.
[Henriquez &c. Exeunt.
Amelrosa enters, pale, and leaning on father Bazil.—Estella, Inis, and ladies follow weeping.
Amel. 'Tis enough,
Good father, and one task performed, I'll meet
That hour with joy, which seems to guilt so fearful.
Leave me awhile: Anon, if time allows it,
We'll talk again—Farewell, my friends.
Inis. [Kneeling.] Oh! princess!
Oh! royal victim!
Amel. Nay, be calm, my Inis.
Pass a few years, and all had been as now,
Perhaps far worse: Receive this kiss of pardon,
And give it back in heaven!—--Farewell!
[Exeunt Estella &c.
Manent Cæsario and Amelrosa.
Cæsa. How grief
Has changed her! Ah! how sunk her eyes! her cheeks
How pale!—She comes!—How shall I bear her anguish!
Amel. Not to reproach, for that you sought a life,
Which you well knew I prized above my own;
Not to complain, that when my heart reposed
On you for all its earthly joys, you broke it,
I seek you now: but with true zeal I come
To warn thee, yea with tears implore thee, turn
From those most dangerous paths, which now thou tread'st.
Oh! wake, my husband! Close thy guilty dream;
Be just, be good! be what till how I thought thee!
That when we part (as ere two hours me must)
We may not part forever.
Cæsa. How to answer,
Or in what words excuse—Could my best blood
Wash out thy knowledge of my fault.—
Amel. My knowledge?
And say, on earth none knew it! say thy crime
To eye of man were viewless as the winds,
And secret as the laws which rule the dead:
Could'st hide it from thyself?—Would not he know it,
Whose knowledge more than all thou ought to dread,
His, who knows all things?—Oh! short-sighted mortals!
Oh! vain precautions! Oh! misjudging sense!
Man thinks his secret safe, for no ear heard it!
Man thinks his act unknown, for no eye saw it!
But there was one above both saw and heard,
When neither ear could hear, nor eye could——
Cæsa. Thou lovely moralist! Oh! take me! school me!
Mould thou my heart, and make it like thine own.
Amel. Dost thou speak thus?
Cæsa. Be that one act forgiven,
And prove——
Amel. Oh! that were light: As yet thou'rt guilty
In thought alone. My father lives!
Cæsa. Indeed!
Amel. He starts!—He feigned!—Oh! for heaven's love; my husband,
Trifle not now! this hour is precious, precious!
My soul is winged for heaven, and stays its flight,
In hopes of teaching thine the way to follow:
Let not its stay be vain! let my tears win thee,
And turn from vice: Repent; be wise; be warned;
For 'tis no idle voice that gives the warning;
I speak it from the grave!
Cæsa. The grave!
Amel. What fear'st thou?
Why shudder at a name?—Oh! if thou needs
Wilt tremble, tremble for thyself, not me.
I die to live; thy death may be for ever!
Short are my pangs; thy soul's may be eternal!
Cæsa. Die? Die!—Each word—Each look—Dreadful suspicions.
But no! it cannot, shall not be!
Amel. It shall not?
As I've a soul, in one short hour, Cæsario,
That soul must kneel before the throne of God.
Cæsa. Mean'st thou——
Amel. E'en so; I'm poisoned!
Cæsa. Torture! madness!
Within there!