# Dramas (Baillie)/Henriquez/Act 3

ACT III.
SCENE I.—The grand Court of the Castle.
Enter a pompous funeral procession by an arched way at the right side of the bottom of the Stage, and crossing it in a diagonal line, passes out by the left side of the front; which joins the massed richness of a perspective to the distinctness of a side view.
SCENE II.
A small private Apartment.
Enter Leonora, walking thoughtfully across the Stage; then enter Diego, upon which she turns, and goes up to him, without speaking.
DIEGO (after pausing for her to speak first).
LEONORA.
Yet what I have to say comes of no sense,—
Mere curiosity,—a woman's humour.
Looking from my apartment not long since,
Methought I saw thee in the inner court,
Earnest in conversation with Balthazer.
I mark'd you for a while, and his strange gestures
Seem'd those of anger rather than of grief.
DIEGO.
LEONORA.
DIEGO.
And hardly to be satisfied.
LEONORA.
Has aught been wanting in the funeral honours
Paid to his master?
DIEGO.
He rather thinks we have been more intent
On idle pageantry, than truly zealous
In finding out the murd'rer of his Lord;
And this did move him to unseemly warmth,
And words which I may not repeat.
LEONORA (eagerly).
Does he suspect—No; what should he suspect?
(Pausing and gazing on Diego, who is silent.)
Thy face looks pale and haggard. Did he name him?
DIEGO.
LEONORA.
Will run on things too wildly fanciful.
I'll speak to him myself; he shall be satisfied.
Search shall be made without delay. Go to him,
And tell him I would see him privately.
DIEGO.
LEONORA.
DIEGO.
He left the castle short while since; ere this
He must be near Zamora.
LEONORA.
DIEGO.
Before the opening of his royal court,
To the King's private ear.
LEONORA (alarmed).
Has work'd him to this frenzy.—Tell me truly
Where his suspicions rest: for he has spoken
Words which thou would'st conceal. Spoke he in hints?
O tell me all!—He did not name Henriquez?
DIEGO.
Had he so done, that word had been his last.
Diego Furnez, aged as he is,
Had ne'er stood by with rapier by his side
To hear his master's honour rudely stain'd
With horrid imputation.
LEONORA.
I meant not that: a thing too wild and frightful
Even for a hasty thought.—But does he know
A lurking stranger in the wood was found,
With scared and hasty fear, confessing guilt?
(Mencia, entering behind them, and listening to the last words, rushes forward in great alarm.)
MENCIA.
Believe not what he says! a frenzied dream!
For mercy's sake, my sister! O, for mercy!
LEONORA.
Mercy! for whom dost thou implore my mercy?
MENCIA.
O had no other ever look'd upon me,
This misery had not been.
LEONORA.
Is he the stranger who escaped their search?
MENCIA.
LEONORA.
MENCIA.
I think of him when any youth is mentioned.
DIEGO.
It is yourself who marks him as a youth.
MENCIA.
I wil retire.
LEONORA.
And be appeased; Antonio is not found,
Though now we know on whom to fix the charge.
[Exit Mencia.
(Gladly to Diego.) Now it is clear: it is a blest relief!
My good Diego, faithful, kind, old friend;
Even for the love which thou dost bear thy lord,
I call thee friend;—it is a blest relief. (Taking his hand.) It comes upon my heart,—a loaded heart,
That was with horror press'd, and brings these tears.
DIEGO.
The steady truth and kindness of your nature,
It had been well, for I have been perverse;
But henceforth I will curb all wayward thoughts,
And honour you as Don Henriquez's wife,
And worthy so to be.
LEONORA.
Enter Carlos.
CARLOS.
Unsuited to these hours of sable sadness.
LEONORA.
CARLOS.
LEONORA.
Whose most presumptuous love, not long ago,
She had for Juen's nobler suit rejected,
Is the mysterious stranger, here, by night,
Found lurking in the wood, whose hasty flight
So well betrayed his guilt.
CARLOS.
Despatch a swift pursuit, to trace his flight.
I've seen the youth, and can describe his mien,
And slender, graceful form. O most unlike
One who could do a fell and bloody deed!
LEONORA.
DIEGO.
More prone than sterner men.
CARLOS.
To question what you say. The time is precious:
I'll send, without delay, on every tract,
Those who, I trust, will shortly seize upon him,
Guilty or innocent. I came to say
Those maids and holy men, as you appointed,
Are in the chapel met, and wait your presence,
To sing a nightly requiem for the dead,
Who, in the vault beneath, his first still night
Of the grave's rest doth pass.
But we'll postpone these rites till we have done
What must not be delayed.
LEONORA.
SCENE III.
The burying Vault of the Castle, with Monuments of the Dead; and near the Front of the Stage; a new covered Grave, seen by the Light of a Lamp placed on a neighbouring Tomb, the Stage being otherwise dark. A solemn Requiem for the Dead is heard at a distance, sounding from above. As it draws to a close, Henriquez appears at the further End of the Vault with a Light in his Hand, which he holds out from him, as if in search of some Object, and, seeing the Grave, casts the Light from his Hand, and rushes towards it.
HENRIQUEZ (after gazing some time on the grave).
Thy lofty, liberal soul, and goodly form,
And heart of love so thorough and so true!
This is thy rest, the meed and recompense
Thy generous worth hath from thy friend received!
Thy friend! O savage heart and cruel hand!
Fell, hateful, faithless, cowardly, and base!
Of every baleful thing, by heaven cast off,
Most cursed and miserable!—
O that ere this the dust had cover'd me
Like a crush'd snake, whose sting is yet unsheath'd!
Would in the bloody trench some sabred Moor
Had lanced this hold of life—this latent seat
Of cruelty! or rather that some dart,
Shot erring in our days of boyish sport,
Had pierced its core! Then by my early grave
He had shed over me a brother's tears;
He had sat there and wept and mourn'd for me,
When from all human thoughts but his alone
All thoughts of me had been extinguish'd. Juen!
My Juen, dear, dear friend! Juen de Torva!
Thy name is on my lips, as it was wont;
Thine image in my heart like stirring life;
Thy form upon my fancy like that form
Which bless'd my happy days. How he would look,
When with his outspread arms, as he returned
After some absence!—Oh, it tortures me!
Let any image cross my mind but this!
No, no! not this!—Sable, sepulchral gloom!
Embody to my sight some terrible thing,
And I will brave it (pausing and looking round).
It doth! it doth! there's form and motion in it.
Advance, thou awful shade, whate'er thou art.
Those threat'ning gestures say thou art not Juen.
(Rubbing his eyes.)
It was but fancy.—No; the soul to Him
Who is the Soul of souls ascended hath,
Dust to its dust return'd. There is nought here
But silent rest that can be roused no more.
Beneath this mould, some few spans deep he lies.
So near me, though conceal'd!—Cursed as I am,
The cords of love ev'n through this earth have power,
Like a strong charm, to draw me to him still.
(Casting himself upon the grave.)
Burst, guilty heart! rend every nerve of life,
And be resolved to senseless clay like this, So to enlap his dearer clay for ever.
Enter Carlos.
CARLOS (looking round him).
Save the cold marble of those tombs which, touch'd
With the wan light of yon sepulchral lamp,
Show their scroll'd ends to the uncertain sight, Like shrouded bodies rising from the earth.
(Going towards the grave.)
Ha! something stirring on the new-raised earth!
It is Henriquez, wrapped in frantic sorrow.
(Advancing to him.)
Henriquez! hear'st thou not, noble Henriquez?
Nay, nay! rise from the earth: such frantic grief
Doth not become a man, and least of all
A man whose firm endurance of misfortune
Has hitherto so graced his noble worth.
Giv'st thou no answer but these heavy groans?
Thou canst not from the tomb recall the dead,
But rouse thy spirit to revenge his death.
HENRIQUEZ (raising his head).
CARLOS.
And rouse thee to revenge thy murder'd friend.
HENRIQUEZ.
The hand of man is nothing.
CARLOS.
(Taking hold of his hand to raise him.)
Up from the earth! I've found the murderer.
HENRIQUEZ (Springing up fiercely, and seizing him by the throat).
The God of heaven doth know, and he alone.
Darest thou with mortal breath bestow that name,
To the dishonour of a noble house,
On one of ancient princely lineage born?
CARLOS.
Thus grapple hand to hand, like angry boys?
Fit time and place shall justify my words.
If they indeed offend.—Our watch hath seiz'd
In hiding near the castle, most suspiciously,
A youth who hath to Mencia's love pretended,
Whose hand, we cannot doubt, hath done the deed;
But if he be of such high lineage born,
'T is more than he hath claimed or we will credit.
Why drop your arms thus listless by your side?
Your eyes upon the ground? Will you not go
And see the prisoner, and hear him questioned?
HENRIQUEZ.
I comprehend thee now.
CARLOS.
Does any sudden pain arrest thy steps?
HENRIQUEZ.
[Exeunt.