Act 1

Scene 1

Moncade, Don Alvar

Alone at last! That overbearing mob
That plagues me like a swarm of moths, has been,
Dear Don Alvar, so well-behaved this morning
That I can slip away for just a moment.
Let us spend this time honouring my flame.
Lindamire lives on this very terrace—
Let’s try and see her.

If that is your goal,
I fear that we will see her fast asleep.

Yes but I had to take pains so early
To get one over on the flatterers—
I’m the King’s favourite, they obsess over me,
So when I manage to go out unseen,
Given they all know my daily routine,
When I can find a time to be alone,
To cover my tracks and breathe on my own,
It takes hard work or blessings from the gods.

You still despise your royal-given fortune?
Embarrassed by your status with the King?
You see yourself so great, admired, and loved,
And still you don’t want to be favourite?

I don’t get much from having this high title,
And so ‘tis hard discerning shame from honour.
The joy of being in glorious service
Unto the State, my friends, and to my King,
Receiving gifts from our kind Sovereign,
Does humble me, just as you’d think it would—
But I can’t taste the fruit of all that joy
When I recall the trouble that it brings;
If I could just begin to let you know
Exactly what the masses think of me
And all the traps that plague my every step,
You would not be surprised by my disdain.
Whoever finds himself the King’s right hand
Can trust nobody, least of all himself.
One may think this position is easy,
But that can only breed complacency.
Instead of wisely sampling every dish,
You lose yourself and gorge on just desserts
And think you’re doing what the King desires
While you become the lord of luxury.
Ah! My friend, soon you learn that sovereigns
Consider certain simple acts as crimes,
And some things, far from being criminal,
Are good as stabbing the King in the back.
Monarchs receive their power from the gods,
They’re gifted with the right to rule from birth;
But the smooth manners of a gentleman,
The lover’s gift of speaking from the heart:
Princes want these things far more than their crown.
So this is where a clever favourite
Must careful be lest he become a foe:
I’m always looking over my shoulder,
In case his Majesty should take offence,
I must be cautious of each little thing,
For fear of provoking a jealous King.

I’m sure it can’t be all that bad, Moncade;
You’re far above this existential dread.
Your cares of State, your virtue, and your blood
All make you worthy of your high station.
The Fates have given you all you deserve,
Not just from sheer luck or from happenstance—
They ought to give you more for all you’ve done.
We all know Moncade’s ancestors are kings,
And since the current one has reigned in Barcelona,
Your hand has guided his in everything.
And if you think his lavish gifts and praise
Are more about your title than yourself,
Allow me now to kindly soothe your fears:
Don’t labour Heaven with your sad complaints;
Recognize the value of your favours,
And do not push away these things in spite.
You do so far too much, if you must know.
The perfect friendship that has bound us two
Compels me to speak honestly on this.
The court has taken notice how you act
With coldness when you greet our noble King,
Receive his gifts and honours, go to parties.
It seems there’s not a thing that he could give
To do away with that profound ennui
Now settled permanently on your face,
Marked with such ugly and unjust sorrow.
His Majesty is in your confidence,
He has what may disperse your discontent,
Else what you sigh for he can get for you,
What more can he do, this Prince whom you love,
Than come to entertain you here himself,
Than bring the courtiers and elites to you:
Amidst the crowd, the object of your love.
You are in a place where art and nature
Have fought to outdo the other in beauty;
The King, in granting you this prized estate,
Has given you the richest gift by far:
This stretch of hills and woods and valleys, and
The gardens, marbles, fountains, caves and all,
These sacred spots to hide from darkness, these
Fertile deserts...

Alas! Are these for me,
These sacred dens that do enchant you so,
And all the other gifts you praise so well?
‘Tis true that looking at this place, you’d think
That ancient demi-gods live here; no man
Could ever hope to dream up such a place:
The splendour, pomp, and beauty of these fields,
Each place has its particular delights,
A different one each hour of the day.
But, Don Alvar, what good is this good luck
If I cannot enjoy these wondrous things?
I’ve heard of the attractive qualities
Of those nice fertile deserts you so love;
There is no cave so dark, no den so deep
That I’m not suffocated by the court.
Silence is a god that I do not know.
Don’t tell me all about the charming woods,
Since all the endless number of courtiers
Keep me from resting in its cool shade,
From the blow of the winds, from babbling brooks,
From the smell of spring and the song of birds—
If I can manage to hear an echo
Rise above the din, ‘tis a lucky day—
The air that fate has so far let me feel...
But here at last comes cruelty again,
I was beginning to miss Prince Clotaire.

Scene 2

[Enter Clotaire]

Aha, I’ve found you, our dear lonesome one,
The court is waiting for you to wake up,
But here you are, risen before the Sun;
So you are ready for the hunt, I guess.

No, that’s not it, my lord.

What cruelty!
So you won’t come? Oh gods! What great despair!
What? Will you make me spend the day without you?
That cannot be, it will not do!

What a suck-up.

I cannot leave you, Sir, I’d rather be
Detached from myself! I will tell the King,
If you will not come, he can count me out.

Hold on, Clotaire….

He’ll order you to come!
Yes, he must come and order you himself!
I’ll run to get him now. [Exit]

Scene 3

No need for that,
My lord, since.... Damn! He’s gone away already.
See what a state Clotaire has put me in,
I wanted to devote this day to her,
My love, and took great pains to make this work,
Which he will ruin with his wicked help!
Of all my doters, he’s the most inane.

‘Tis true his eagerness to please is misplaced.
I do not know how you have charmed him so.
But having to spend a day without you,
You must admit, is a terrible loss.

Ah yes! Laugh at my unending torment.

No, see, he irks you since he loves you so.

Loves me, eh? Gods! That worm is my rival,
The eyes of Lindamire have caught his soul:
But he dares not admit he loves my love,
For fear that he might fall from out of favour
And lose my patronage within the court.
Such terror has so strong a hold on him
That he cedes ground to me with Lindamire,
And suffocates me with his cloying zeal
While working against me behind my back.

A man like him cannot be such a threat.
His love and falsehood don’t compare to you:
He is a fugitive, defeated, lost,
Come seeking sanctuary in our realm.
What can he hope from such a pointless love?

He is a prince and lover, and I fear
That Lindamire is but a woman yet;
The members of that fair sex can deceive.
If I may speak to you with honesty,
I fear that Clotaire’s interest might block
Me from the Hymen that I do desire.
Since Lindamire might like a nice pretense,
Another artful reason to break off.
My slight suspicion of her secrecy,
Her grief, with which she guards against my charms,
Have kept her from my reaches until now.
But from a lover’s eyes one cannot hide;
She waits, she waits to hear about the war.
A royal title has so many charms;
If Clotaire can regain his former seat,
Then she might well forget about Moncade:
And there you have the full extent of it.

Do not believe she would be so untrue.
You know her better, and you do her wrong.

Alas! No one can know what fate will bring:
The winds of change do blow for everyone,
And love and fortune’s wheels run parallel.
But Lindamire comes, you must leave us; love, [Exit Don Alvar]
Now vanquish my suspicions, or my life.

Scene 4

[Enter Lindamire, reading]

These fields, these woods, these clouds above;
The beast most wild,
The bird most mild,
All in nature is love.

She reads.

Since love can set aflame
The most unlikely object,
If our hearts become her subject,
Alas! Must we them blame?

That sigh does make me understand,
Oh! so happy would I be to feel that breeze:
She sees me. Here, Madame, and at this time,
I doubted what I saw with mine own eyes.
What mystery has brought you out of bed?

A mystery, Seigneur, most commonplace;
Each morning I take an unmatched delight
And watch the sun rise over these fine fields.
He mixes with Aurora to refine
With filigree of light each place he rests,
And in these moments you can see the winds
Puffing their thousand sighs amidst the flowers,
Their perfumes wafting up into the air,
While dew does ornament the fountains’ grass.
For you, Seigneur, I paint this pretty scene,
For I suppose it must be new to you.
A man who must support the crown knows not
The pleasures offered by the countryside.

‘Tis true the tasks the gods have set for me
Do block mine eyes from seeing these delights.
But if my heart rebels against these chores,
It does so not for nature’s benefit.
If I should never see the break of day
And could instead devote my time to love,
If I might in a thousand little ways
Impart to you how much my heart is yours,
If something were to interrupt my duties
And let me see you for a moment more,
And if...

In love we each have our own ways;
The favourite’s must be singular indeed.
That overbearing zeal, those sugared words,
And all the vulgar lovers’ false pretense
Must be, Seigneur, forbidden from your style.
Their wild devotion to a tender love,
Their tears and sighs and vows to love forever
Are gestures that won’t last a change of weather.

Some find more love in changeable lovers
Than those whose work does overburden them:
Love does not care for the affairs of state,
Cupid prefers love notes to policy.

Do you notice love frowns on those like you?

Ah! We don’t know what others think of us,
And for the favourite ‘tis the greatest pain.
Since he is decked with such fine privileges,
His glory often has more friends than he,
And sometimes hate and love are bound together;
Among those most attracted, it is hard
To separate the strangers from the friends,
And those that love him for the things around,
Who never would have given him a thought.

You spend a lot of time on this one point.
‘Tis right that you be jealous of your title,
Not knowing if ‘tis you or it they like;
But if one melds the two, what does it matter?
As long as you are happy, I believe,
That you don’t have to be obsessed with why.

That principle is good and sound, ‘tis true;
But love, Madame, does not allow for reason;
Love is itself its own object and goal,
It is and makes the cause and its effect.
And once its burning heat has touched a soul,
If other things do muddle with that flame
Which do attract the object of the love
Away from that first soul, then love burns up;
Judge then if my uncertainty’s extreme,
I who am caged by these attractive things.
Although perhaps my honour, love, and faith
Are small appealing things...

Scene 5

[Enter Don Alvar]

The King is here.

The King!

Yes.

Oh great sky!

I have to go. [Exit Lindamire]

Annoyed and alone.

Go find Lindamire,
And ask her where she wants to meet again. [Exit Don Alvar]
I do love’s bidding most uneasily,
And in my tender heart I find a weakness
In serving both my master and my mistress.

Scene 6

[Enter The King]

It seems that but to nourish thine ennui
Thou hast dispensed me from thy company.
Thy rude chagrin, thy melancholic dreams
Do make thee shun the public court affair
And thou prefer’st to be alone than share
In all the glories of thy loving King.
This does surprise me, and since thou must know,
This sulking humour starts to wear on me,
I do not like to see that all my favour
Has yet not thawed thy most disturbing coldness.
Mankind whom gods have given shape unto,
His happiness cannot be touched by Kings,
Since I, with all my royal potency
Still cannot make mine own creation smile.
Demand, ask, beg me prove my worth
In any way a subject can so do.
Hide not from me a thing, open thy heart;
Speak, what ails thee?

Oh pardon me, my lord,
If on this point I know not what to say.
These gifts in excess overwhelm me so
That I did not, great King, believe me worthy.
You license me with such great liberty
That I was bound to use, not hold it in;
I must now beg my pardon at your knees,
I swear that both mine eyes have wronged my heart
If they have not expressed my gratitude.
Why yes, I...

Stop, or be thou more sincere,
These high-flown words will but inflame me more.
With freedom speak and know this just as well:
Thy misdirections will not save thee here.
Thy hundred sighs, thy hundred secret gripes
Have told me much about thine attitude.
I do not care to hear thine opinion,
Cease thou these overbearing words;
This is my wish from thine obedience
Which I have earned with my goodwill and joy,
And know if thou should’st keep defying me,
Today for all time thou dost lose my favour.

My Lord, what doom!

It is irrevocable.

What have you made of me, awesome monarch?
Great skies, what do you ask of me, and how
Dare I to make my King my confidante?
O gods! To that name only can I turn,
I cannot do it...

Then I order thee.

Oh well, my lord! Well then, I must obey.
To satisfy you, I betray myself;
You do command it.

And you take too long.
Speak.

I am jealous of my own good fortune.
It is not me they love, but your favours,
And your gifts, my Lord, take their hearts from me.
In this same circumstance my soul would leap
If fate would leave me but my lady’s heart.
I know that it is right and just for me
To owe my friendships to a kindly King.
This zealous fervour that inspires me now
Does wish that all this air was owed to you;
I cannot act nor live except by you,
And being bound in such a life seems good.
But, Lordship, ‘tis a lover’s greatest pleasure
To owe to no one their beloved’s heart.
And I would die a thousandfold if she
Confounded my love with the favourite.

Is’t so that this is all thy sorrow’s cause?

To one who does not love, it may seem nothing,
Mirages, interest’s fantasy, no more.
The faintest looks are magnified by love,
And since I must here tell you all my weakness,
If my position shared my mistress’ heart
Then though I should pronounce my wedding vows,
My secret soul would be in misery.
A hopeless lover sees in all things doom,
And love that’s shared is just as soon destroyed.

Is’t so that all my benefit and favour
Could not a lover move from ardent folly?
Then I have not the goods to please this heart,
And thou with all my gifts art miserable;
When I do shower thee with benefits
What lacks, thou ingrate, from thy selfish hopes?
Is’t so that I give all myself to him,
And I to him am but a faint mirage,
A fantasy, a vapour, cloud of love?

My lord, my lord! But you have never loved.

Never, ‘tis true! except for loving you!
But since my tenderness does you no good,
Since being everything to me, you whine,
I leave you all to your unworthy flame.
I soon will pick another grateful soul
More careful of the value of my favour,
That I shall be their every pain and humour. [Exit]

Please, lord! But gods, after that royal threat,
I’m left in ruined anguish and disgrace,
I’ll after him and try to calm him down,
To quench the fury of an angry crown. [Exit]

End of Act 1

Act 2

Scene 1

Leonor, Doña Elvire[

Surely you jest, Elvire, for I shall die
To leave my chambers at this early hour,
While everyone’s asleep. They’ll laugh at us.

Come on now, Leonor.

Where are you going,
You early bird, just tell me that at least.
Is it to sort some secret lover’s tryst,
Or read your future in the stars above
That sleepily you drag me from my bed?
What is it?

How I love to torture her.
Now come along with me to Lindamire,
We wagered she would give me a bracelet
If I could catch her sleeping in her bed
While carrying this flattering bouquet.

As good a pretense as I’m like to get.
What good is all this care towards your foe?
You follow every step of hers too close.

You cannot comprehend my snares of love.

That may be so, but tell me just the same,
We still will find Lindamire early enough;
These worries aren’t important, so come here,
Let’s stop a moment and enjoy the air.
In truth, Elvire, I understand you not;
I have myself loved, who is so immune?
On Earth, at least, it comes for each in turn,
Indeed the greatest prude must love some time.
So love affected me like any other,
And I, like you, contended with a rival.
But, either you don’t love like others do,
Or else my heart is made unlike their hearts,
Since just as soon as I knew of her love,
I loathed her presence ten times more than death.
I shook with horror at her uttered name,
And if I could I would have ate her heart.

My hatred for her is what spurs me on
To dog the footsteps of our Lindamire;
By doing so, I rob her of the joy
Of freely entertaining our Moncade.
Under the cover of my false friendship,
I spoil her pleasures with so much finesse
She cannot find a moment in the day
To speak with him in private of her love.
To try and seek out such a time is hard,
And I can see how much it troubles her:
She sinks into despair, and in a flash
Her face and eyes are visibly distraught,
Her humour sours and her melancholy
Causes Moncade to feel bad when she’s near.
He thinks her annoyed, and he grows jealous,
And that’s the moment I choose to swoop in.
I do my best to catch his attention,
I smile and laugh and get all bubbly,
And I display all of my best assets
Which Lindamire has not, if I may say.
You understand?

I do, but also dear,
If this is so, you aren’t being sincere;
And if Moncade should ever catch you out,
Believe me, throw your hopes away for good
If your love is not based on high regard.

Well I thought all was fair in love and war.
Your worry for regard is meaningless:
Esteem is only useful to the plain,
To those less well-endowed with beauty’s charms;
‘Tis good to strive to be respectable,
One should be charming, if one can’t look good.
But when a lover happens on bright eyes,
He gives all his regard to what he sees,
Without a thought about the soul within.
The secret is to please the eye, because
We see that all who love think their love perfect.
So in our sparkling youth, let’s please the eyes,
And leave without regret regard to age.
Let those who want to, come down with regard,
I am immune to that great pestilence
Knowing that time will bring it on to me,
All nice and gift-wrapped when I turn fifty.

The well-said lesson of a young coquette.

I’m sure I don’t know what at all you mean;
But I do love myself, and love to please,
I like some raucousness, I hate secrets,
I do less for others than for myself,
And joy in all is my one rule and law.
If that is what today we call “coquette,”
Then it is true I’m one.

No doubt you are,
And I must, by the laws of friendship pure,
Give you some kind advice for pity’s sake,
Whether or not it takes a hold of you.
Elvire, believe me, become more sincere,
‘Tis not too late to do the things you must
And leave behind a pointless fantasy:
Moncade is loyal, Lindamire loves him,
Their love is good, you should not interfere.
But here he comes.

Scene 2

[Enter Moncade]

Just watch me talk to him,
You’ll see if I’m mistaken in my ways.

I won’t be seen! What crime or anything
Could cast on me so great a fall from grace?

He sees me not.

What did I do, or say,
Oh gods, who see my heart?

He’s stupefied!

Oh, why allow this sudden change of fortune?

He sees us, Leonor.

Ah, just my luck!
I hate this woman!

See? Sad, and dreaming.

See why?

Wherefore such an angry humour,
Considering your rising fortunes, Lord,
Who gives you reason to be so morose?

Alas!

I hear you sigh, could it be love
Has caused, Seigneur, all your troubles today?
Ah, that can’t be, you whom everyone loves,
Whomever you should choose would honour you,
And be your conquest, knowing well the price
Of answering your love with unjust spite!

You unctuous toad; man’s miseries abound,
So love is not always the cause of pain;
Though men at fortune’s summit think it so,
Who cannot understand their secret hearts.
But destiny is blind and changeable
And nobody should judge on looks alone,
Since everything is instability.

Good gracious, banish that morality!
What good is it in your most prized estate
To dream about an unknown future time?
Rejoice in this most glorious present
And leave the future in the gods’ own hands.

To make full use of reason’s faculty,
When safe in port one has to think of storms;
So picturing bad times, we them escape.
Wise men make ready and often succeed,
So the subjects that infest my house
Should always dream and fear for their disgrace.
Think of the present as a fleeting moment,
Erased at once when the next one arrives.
The fall of thousands of favourites tells us
How little Fortune favours each of them;
The past can show us what is yet to come.

Erase that portrait from your memory,
For I predict without a crystal ball
The only weapons you shall have to fear
Are those employed by women and courtiers.
And, Seigneur, for a man as great as you,
I’m sure our strikes won’t harm you very much;
If I can judge the looks of ladies well,
They will not deal you any mortal wounds.

On that point, I think both my life and death
Depend if chance is for me or against,
To make me happy or despair in love.
And to be plain, I do not myself know
What gains I get from having Kingly graces.

‘Tis true, Seigneur, some cannot see the value
Of such a gift, those horrid common souls;
When I consider it myself, I fear
I am ashamed to own up to my sex;
Sometimes when I am called a woman, I
Must hide my blushing face for pity’s sake.

You would be constant then, despite misfortune....

I understand your suspicions, Seigneur,
Since I have few attractions, my strong zeal
And faith must matter little to a man like you.
Whether that’s true or not, I do attest,
And to the gods profess that I should die
Right here, before your eyes if I do lie;
That if good fortune ever parts from you,
No counsel, torture, temptations, or gifts
Would take my heart from you. But why this vow
From Elvire’s mouth? It matters not to you,
Much stronger qualities must attract you.

Scene 3

[Enter Don Alvar]

Do you know why the hunt has been called off?
And why the King has flown into a rage?

No, why has he?

All speculate in fear.
He walks alone around the gallery
So full with pain and noisome fantasy,
That he sees not what stands before his eyes.

Annoyed, alone, and dreaming. Gods! I’m done.

Scene 4

[Enter Clotaire]

The King, dear friend, what pain oppresses him?

I do not know, Seigneur. I’m miserable!

You know not? This I simply can’t conceive;
If you do not know, who could know it else?
You have too great a place inside his heart
To have no knowledge of what happens there;
Something’s afoot; dear friend, do let us know.
Do not so spurn me, your devoted Prince;
If you could but know how much I love you,
You would bethink me part of your own self.
If I was called to drain my blood for you,
Gods, with what pleasure I would pierce my side!

Skies, what a charlatan!

Upon my life,
The which a thousand embraces may prove—
It seems the King will rob me of that joy,
Carlos comes seeking you.

Scene 5

[Enter Carlos]

How does the King?

Seigneur, he is alone in his chamber, and orders you to leave by tomorrow morning his court and Barcelona, retiring to your other house, where I have come on his behalf to place you under arrest.

Moncade in exile!

Gods!

What do I hear!

Is this true, Carlos?

This must come as a shock, and I myself was as surprised as you. But my order is explicit.

I have heard enough.
Carlos, without complaint I will obey
Whatever painful justice I am due.
Please reassure the King on my behalf
That I know I’m unworthy of his choice;
He has been prey to fortune’s cruel mistake
And my disgrace is error’s evidence.
Carlos leaves.

Scene 6

You, Prince....

I have remembered that two friends
Who were disputing have just reconciled,
And it had slipped out of my memory
To go and see them. For my glory’s sake,
I must go. Time does urge me on, adieu. [Exit]

Let’s steal away from here, sweet Leonor,
I cannot stand the heat, ‘tis horrible;
I feel a migraine coming on, Oh gods!
This heat! I’m frying! Heaven rescue us! [Exeunt Elvire and Leonor]

So that’s the sort of friend that favour gets:
Upon the false path of celebrity
All genuflect to the masses’ idol,
A glance, a gift, some favour from the King,
Sends all hearts with abandon after you.
They run amidst the crowd, a flock following
The changing wind of that benevolence,
And night and day the duties of the Court
Are piled up high at the favourite’s feet.
But the split second that destiny shifts,
The crowd disperses, and abandons him;
And as his prize for this great position,
He’s left with nothing but a righteous pain.
Ah! my friend, I hold in high esteem
He who counts on himself for his own joy;
Who, fleeing from pernicious, vain delights,
Knows only his own thoughts, needs, and the Gods,
A man without a friend, who lives alone....

Sweet one, don’t think of me like those others,
I cannot flip with fortune’s coin like them,
And I will follow you, my friend, til death.

Follow me! Ah! Seek cruel death instead!

You may reject my loyalty in vain;
For I will follow you.

What of the King?

I see your disgrace, and stand without fear.
The King can only take my goods and life;
I owe them both to you, and give them now;
Refuse them not.

At least....

My mind is made.

Ah! Of all friends you are the most perfect,
It seems that destiny has seen it fit
My heart should be most violently rent
By excess of affection and disdain
From both my false and true well-meaning friends;
I must resolve me to your offered help
Although I know my ruin will engulf you too.
I could have calmly borne the cruellest luck
If it had only just affected me;
But now, to help my sorrow reach new heights,
It seems my doom must spread to all I love.
Since you deprive me of unfriendly solitude,
Find out if I can speak with Lindamire,
I want to say goodbye; with Heaven’s help
My crime might make her better think of me.
Quick, come with me, I’ll tell you everything
That I have done to so enrage the King. [Exeunt]

End of Act 2

Act 3

Scene 1

Lindamire, Don Alvar

What you have told me I dare not believe,
Is this for certain Moncade’s only crime?
His exile from the court, the King’s dismay,
Have not more cause than this effect of love?

No more, Madame.

I think the reason’s weak
And monarchs are enraged most easily.

Kings are delicate when it comes to favour,
Which held but scant appeal to our Moncade.
His coldness to those gifts, disdain of fame,
Can look to some like criminal contempt;
Princes are jealous of their own power
And want to be their subjects’ everything.

I had not thought that absolute power
Enchained one’s heart unto the diadem;
I knew that one should follow and obey,
But as for freely loving and hating,
I thought that Kings left that up to our souls,
And only Cupid managed those affairs.
That error dissipates, and now I see
A King can do whatever he should wish,
And royal wishes compass everything.
Though I do wonder how, without distress
He loses such a strong, important man:
His heart should fight a little for Moncade,
These past ten years he’s been the State’s support;
Twice we have seen a troubled Barcelona,
Her troubled crown kept safe by him alone.
He has so many exploits to his name,
So much respect, fidelity, such fervour,
His good, his public vows, his credit, birth,
Nothing has swayed his heart in any way,
He always followed orders from his King,
And made the Sovereign’s every whim his guide.
And is it now this Prince does not recall
Such great exploits, such merit and glory?

Whatever subjects do, their King owes nothing,
Our good works are always a gift to him;
And short of risking life and limb, we can’t
Expect a prize for doing what’s ordained.
Cut off this talk then, and now let me know
If Moncade might come have a word with you.

Yes, I await him here, here may he come,
We might be interrupted in my rooms,
And here can better spy out enemies.

Stay where you are, I’ll run to let him know. [Exit]

Scene 2

Back, pride, to whom I’ve paid heed far too long,
Your force is in an instant overcome;
Suspicion, ego, coldness, vanity,
Depart forever from my timid heart,
You have for too long tyrannized my soul.
Now rise, rise, rise, my pure and secret flame,
You strong and noble love which I have fought,
Misfortuned servant of austere virtue,
Hide not your fire from him who kindled it,
Speak, simple love, the time has come at last!
Moncade is unhappy, in this extreme,
You’ll be more generosity than love;
Make known yourself in full, for pity’s sake,
To down-turned eyes... Oh! Were it not so!

Scene 3

[Enter Clotaire]

Madame, I, having heard that long exile
Should here today relieve you of a lover,
Have come to put this cruel loss to rights.
I lay a tender heart down at your feet,
A feeble heart run through with your sharp looks,
Which ne’er had sighed before, not before you.

Oh Gods, what baseness! Ample offer, and
Arriving at such a convenient time.
A heart that flies from hate, or royal rage
Would be an honest, worthy gift to me;
And such a one that’s bound with honest friends
Will sway with ease a maiden’s spirit; now
I must make certain of your passion’s strength,
By knowing how you feel for sad Moncade.

In fact, Madame, my hatred for Moncade
Has spurred me to confess, and prove my flame:
If my heart can so strongly hate my foe,
It must possess a strength as great to love.
And you can judge how much Clotaire loves you
By knowing my hatred’s intensity.

This secret flame has been most secret kept,
If not faithful, at least it is discreet;
You’re passionate, though you are not sincere,
And know well how to posture, if not please.

‘Tis true a mask contrary to my love
Has too long guarded my flame well from view.
I hid my sighs, held back my sad refrains,
But now my love grows stronger than my fear;
It must be known, it is for you I die.
At this, now arm yourself with all your wiles,
It matters not, I die but suffer less
From your disdain than silence so long kept.

The King’s a great physician for your pains,
An endless silence would have been your fate,
Except a diagnosis of disgrace
Has remedied your timid attitude.
What luck, when fortune knows a thousand ways
To stretch the days of lovers too discrete.

What! Jest you to my face so openly?
Ah! Show me rather all antagony!
Fury is less a pain in love than this......

Ah! You wish that I should be more serious?
With pleasure I do grant this plea of yours,
And wish to show you my true soul in full.
How dare you proudly bear your noble name,
And lay before me all your wickedness?
Unworthy Prince, the slave of destiny,
How dare you offer me your vows of love?
Go, loathsome courtier, court chameleon,
Go make your flame and nerve a gift to some
More baser soul than mine, and ne’er return,
Learn how....

‘Tis too much, this extreme fury
Stretching to spite, surpassing modesty,
It carries you to such a violence.
You give my honour cause to take revenge,
The which I can exact in several ways.
I’ll say no more and let you think on this. [Exit]

Hatred or friendship from a man like you…
Oh-ah! Here is Elvire.

Scene 4

[Enter Elvire]

What passion’s this?

I find our world has been infected deep
With so much treachery, such baseness, see
So few true friends, and see that every man
Does make a god out of intrigue and fame.

From all that I can see, your pain doth lie
In that you have too much a love for others.
Does some bad that’s to come affect you so?
And do the gods attend to public scandals?

No. But if this our world were generous,
We would not punish the unfortunate.
Clotaire betrays Moncade in his disgrace,
But if this were taboo he wouldn’t dare,
For fear the name of false friend would him stain,
And honourable people him avoid.
And yet his soul thinks not twice of this crime,
Nay, many would agree he had done well.

‘Tis done quite well, and I myself believe
The burden of a King’s contempt is hard,
And should be skirted with great prejudice.
Besides, one’s greatest love should be oneself.

You love yourself so?

Do you not yourself?
My happiness is my topmost concern.
On Earth, good sense does teach us to be happy.

Why, I did think your soul most generous?
And knowing how Moncade is dear to you,
I thought his fate would surely touch your heart.

You judge my inner feelings by your own?

His misery affects me, yes, I weep
Most deeply for the state I see him in.

The gods have made your heart feel more than mine?

Your heart is made so very like Clotaire’s,
The gods must have intended you for him;
I find your attitudes in harmony,
Both following fortune’s inconstancy,
And your sincerity is matched in his;
A perfect couple, that must go together.

Your spirit is inflamed and with just cause,
A favourite’s eyes have been stolen from you;
Moan all you need to mourn this tragic loss,
I am your friend, so tell me everything.

You dare so, without blushing?

Oh, good gods!
See now what comes when one has lost their lover!
I knew not that such violence would entail,
Not having such experience myself,
Though I had heard that the distress was strong.
I had some verses for a lover lost,
Where are they?

Heavens!

Ah, here! Elegy:
O, Fates, which rob me of one half my life—
Yes these are they, no doubt. Listen.

Great gods!

O, sky, which bids a heart live from itself—
A lovely style.

You fickle, two-faced beast!

Well that has just inflamed you all the more.
I know of nothing more to calm you down,
And see that you should be alone today.

You gods that reigned when this woman was born!
That her heart may....

Farewell, unlucky lover. [Exit]

Scene 5

If you knew just how odious it is
To basely jeer at those less fortunate!
Whatever pain torments my soul and heart;
Between us two, you’d think yourself worse off.
Moncade has come.

Scene 6

[Enter MONCADE]

Oh, woe is me, Seigneur!
So true it is that all on Earth doth change,
You, to mine eyes appear the self-same man
I saw at dawn in perfect happiness,
And all this trouble, when it pleases Fate,
Does come and go as quickly as the dew.
How can I make myself believe and see
You so unhappy now, yet still Moncade?

It is a fate whose torments I adore,
Since they have paired us both in their affect.
Madame, ‘tis true, the gods shine not on me,
Except in granting one small recompense:
This turmoil, slander, all this tragedy
Has starved me of the faintest taste of joy.
The only thing on Earth to make one great
Is leaving everything for one’s true love.
Such perfect happiness I now do taste,
And I am, here by you, most satisfied.

Be so, Seigneur, such glory and such joy
Go not amiss, I will remember them;
And in my memory is where Fortune,
With all her efforts, shall not steal them back.
They will be there encarved despite her rage,
And make of what I owe a bright portrait.
That image setting all ablaze, my heart
Must then commit, Seigneur, to loving you.
If you would lose such influence for me,
You will not lose me so to faithlessness;
And so here to console you, I give you
A heart that none can take from you, save Death.

Ah! Noble recompense, ah! matchless glory!
How then when I am hated of the world,
When fear of drawing fury from the King
Scatters my friends, you give yourself to me?
Has being miserable made me more fair?
And do my senses give me true report?

Yes, yes, my love is won by your disgrace!
Before today, Seigneur, you were not mine,
The State’s affairs made use of all your time,
And you were its, more than your mistress’s.
Your heart, possessed of diverse troubles so,
Confounded me with all the universe;
In love, confusion such as this is dire.
I thank you, banishment, you’ve slain my foe;
Today I rise as it from favour falls,
Moncade can give me now his heart entire;
What innocent delights this exile gives.
Seigneur, most strange and nervous Fortune throws
Tumultuous labours upon some souls,
Which chase away both love and its warm flames.
Disgrace, meanwhile, the sympathetic maid,
Prepares an easy, simple way of life
Which better fits our hearts to be in love
Than all the bustle of a busy court.

Oh gods! What pleasure and what flame
Doth grip my soul to hear this loving speech!
What, love you me? Oh gods! What happiness!
But is’t, Madame, aye love, or charity?
I tremble; after all, this tenderness
Was hidden from mine eyes so carefully,
And you did let me doubt so long a time,
My heart dares not begin to so believe.
I know not what instinct within my breast
Warns me that love comes on without our leave,
And that we can’t so master our desires
That not a sigh of love escapes our lips;
And yet the effort of my faithful soul
Discovered in you no more than regard.
That which two years of effort won from you,
Was the vain hope of making you my wife.
Your faith, accepted with such speed and ease
Is not the strongest evidence of love,
And I was full of doubt, until this hour,
Having but meagre basis for my hope.

Why then, doubt you no more, and cease your pains.
‘Tis true that my surplus judiciousness
Did make me worried to offend my love,
Confounding his desires with those of court.
I worried that my soul would seem too base,
That you’d accuse me of loving your fame.
Your exile rids me of this obstacle;
I love you, true, believe it, I pray do.

Why then, Madame, why then I dare believe
This precious love that is my every glory!
But, gods, in my despair I think it all too late,
The hour of banishment is almost here.

For but a few days will we be apart:
I have a house, Seigneur, quite near to yours.
Go rest you there, I will retire myself
When I may do so without whisperings.
Let me give homage to propriety,
And for the rest..

Great gods! After these vows,
What can I ask, but fall down at your knees
My peaceful, loving heart....

Seigneur, stand up,
If you were seen, alas, what do you think...

Madame,
In what a rapture you have charmed my soul.

I fear we have been seen, let’s fly from here.
Adieu, Moncade..

Adieu, Madame, adieu.

End of Act 3

Act 4

Scene 1

Doña Elvire, Leonor

I must now dare to be an awkward friend,
Since I can’t bear your strange behaviour:
Within an hour you have forgot Moncade,
That poor, sad, perfect man.

He is disgraced.

And is he less because of that disgrace?
What, can your heart feel such a tenderness,
And then, just like that, when you should so choose,
Replace your lovers like your handkerchiefs?

You don’t find my behaviour very shrewd?
I loved Moncade while he was lovable,
When favour coined his love a precious jewel,
Surrounded everywhere by games and cheer;
And I tried hard to have him for my own,
Since I am always seeking smiles and joy.
But now this great reversal shows in him
A soul full up with troubles and despair,
That he is less a thing of joy than tears;
How could I then see him as the same man?
Where would my soul be, or my acumen?
Support a little now your reasoning.

Why it would show a daring constancy,
And courage......

What, nothing that’s more tangible?
Fie on your constancy, ‘tis out of style,
A fairy tale dressed up as righteousness;
If our ancestors were caught up in it,
The great wide world is well-recovered now.
Believe me, Leonor, right now at court
We don’t believe in putting chains on love;
Since he’s a child, we think he likes to laugh,
And rather than torture, we play with him.

‘Tis true that seeing how you treat his flame,
I can’t deny you think it all a game.
But I must know one thing most certainly,
Did not you love Moncade ere his disgrace?
Was that a bluff, or no?

You know me well,
I hate all lovely things, and never love;
Whatever might remove from me the name
Of greatest beauty I hate mortally.
Our Lindamire seemed more charming than me
When she had the King’s favourite in her thrall.
As soon as she had charmed his honoured eyes,
She brought down in an instant all my rage.
But hatred for the mistress spurred me on,
I never loved the Lover, which to show
With further proof, I have a conquest made
This very hour; I having cast a glance
Towards Don Lope, I suspect by now
He has been firmly snared by my good looks.

The more you speak, the less I understand.
This way of loving, and this sudden change,
Is mystifying to plain folk like me.
But let that go, love has its mysteries
Which it deigns not impart on simpletons;
So change you may, and hate him too, I guess.
But with Clotaire betraying him, Elvire,
‘Tis lowest baseness of a feeble soul.

Should I rather take part in his disgrace,
And spend my fairest days in banishment
Because of some belief that helps no one?
I’ve thought everything through most carefully:
Since I loved Lindamire as I myself,
Since she doth love Moncade, she might, in sorrow,
Let slip some gripe and be exiled with him,
Now, if her love brings her to such extremes,
Suspicion then would fall on me, her friend.
The least of envy coming near the King
Might with a breath direct his rage on me.
So I must from this scandal free myself
By showing that I am their enemy.
By seeming keen to not be seen with them,
I pull myself clear out of danger’s way.
In fact, someone might think me generous:
Exile is good for such unhappy souls.
I thank the skies my heart does not desire
Ambition, knowing this is what it costs.
Let those that seek it penetrate those heights,
I’ll never trust its false illusion’s charms.
I know what glory is, and sincere love,
But I do loathe disgrace, and love the court.
Resplendent eyes are tarnished with fat tears,
Three days of suffering saps us of our charms,
And I like mine, and want to keep them whole;
That’s why I swore that I would never cry.
My thoughts are these, do take them or them leave,
I want no further disagreement now.
If you like suffering, let us split the bill:
You weep for me, and I will laugh for you.
Does that sound good to you?

I can no more,
I did not look for this— but what’s this Page?

‘Tis from dear Don Lope. What is’t?

Scene 2

[Enter Page]

This note
Will let you know, Madame.

I smell his hand.

Since I met thine eyes, e’en now,
I, without my bidding, sense
In myself impatience,
It to quell, I know not how;
My soul I feel doth move a strange new way,
My heart is soft, though thrown as on the sea;
I know not what ‘tis, but, Madame, dare say
This pain may have no other cure but thee.

Ha! Nothing more gallant. Tell me, my friend,
How does your virtue like this love letter?
I go not out tonight, Page, he may come.
Tell him to find me here, and serve me so. [Exit Page]

Scene 3

Well now, dear constancy, my style of love
Is’t more delightful, or uncomfortable?
Go on, what say you?

That a flame so quick
Will go out just as quick, and ‘tis no prize.

A pretty moral. There, there, I’m content
That it should only fill a vacancy;
I leave the rest to chance, who always comes,
And would, if he were constant, kiss me so.
At least he saves me from the cruel disgrace
Of being young and pretty with no lover.
Here comes Clotaire. All’s well, Seigneur?

Scene 4

[Enter Clotaire]

Good luck
Continues with its favour unto us.
Listen now to a most important scheme,
Which will escape us if we do not act:
Disgusted by the fury of the King
Goes precious Lindamire all with Moncade
Into exile, and pledges him her troth.

O gods! Who would have thought her such a prude!
But how come you to know of this event?

A man I keep in her employ in secret
Who loves me dearly let me know of this;
Moncade’s exile is to a far province
Where Lindamire reigns almost like a Prince,
It having once belonged to her own house,
And this arrangement may conceal some treason;
If so indeed, Madame, such an intrigue
Would grant us high influence in the court,
The King being alerted by us two.
Just think of the position that awaits:
No single favour could escape our grasp,
And we could fill the exile’s vacancy.

O skies! Let’s run and tell this precious news.

What, you agree to this abhorrent crime?
This cruel treason?

Oh, see the heroine?
Is it a crime to be political?
Do you know just what misery and pain
Are owed unto rebellious subjects’ friends?

Elvire has got it right. It has been said
That all one’s friends take part in one’s own crime.
Believe me, Leonor, don’t get involved.
We dally too much on this vital plan,
Let’s find the King. But for your part, Madame,
I would be loathe to cast blame on a woman.
Might you...

Of course, Seigneur, I’ll take it on.

Let’s go. But look! The Prince comes here himself.

Scene 5

[Enter The King and Carlos]

Just Skies! Must it be, in this savage time,
A true and honest friend has grown so rare?

Might I, Seigneur, without disturbing you,
Impart some news unto your Majesty?

Thou mayst.

I find it difficult to say:
That noble person, with a glorious heart,
Whose soul had stood unmoved by Cupid’s darts,
Lindamire, in a word, has come to love;
She will accompany Moncade’s journey,
Pity at last conquers her strong courage;
She had a heart of steel, love frightened her.
But great hearts to compassion bend and break.

Is’t possible, O gods, that vanity!
That fierce beauty!

Seigneur, yes, even her!
Will she then share in her lover’s exile?

Who could have guessed at such a turn from her?

Seigneur, exemplary virtues are oft
No more than masks to hide all bad affairs;
Ne’er put your faith into a heart of stone,
That seems impervious to love’s approach,
We don’t love less, we who know to pretend,
And our flames can be more endurable.

How could they love so, and in banishment...

I love her so, Seigneur, the gods save me;
Yet she deserves your righteous punishment,
For following an exile who spurned you;
My heart for loving her should too be shunned,
And yet might Heaven still preserve me yet
That you may judge Elvire’s true sentiments.
Seigneur, if I may so presume to say,
There may be more disgruntled courtesans,
If I judge rightly on this banishment.
I know not much, but I do know women,
I know how spite can reign within their souls.
You have her soul hurt where ‘tis delicate.
I understand not what it is to rule,
But were I you, I would suspect her much.
Witness what she may do, and think on it.

If I might say a word or two on that,
Seigneur, suspicion is most sensible.
Great Kings like you do seldom take notice
And stoop yourselves to look among the rabble,
Your thoughts are occupied with grand projects,
And but in passing hear your subjects’ wish.
But we less potent ones, we common folk
Have made an art of seeing others’ minds,
We note all things, nothing escapes our eyes.
And so, as one humble and curious
I dare step forward on this point to say
That it is wise to survey Lindamire.
I fear this voyage has a plural bent;
Recall where Moncade keeps his other house.

The crucial nature of this information
Shall be rewarded with its proper due.
Yet thy great zeal was not sought after here,
I am surprised to find it come from thee,
Thou being not my subject.

Lord, your grace
Does sway to you more hearts than does your crown.
And once one has the joy of seeing you,
All thoughts must bend to doing you all good.

Thou dost confuse me, Prince; my good genius
Doth work aforce to reconcile this case,
Since Moncade surely must have won thy heart.
He seemed always to treat thee most warmly,
I now recall it was at his own prayer
That I did rescue thee in this last war;
And further, it was his own steadfast zeal
That brought you in asylum to this place.
Such service done for thy sole benefit
Did seem to hold thy heart as in his net,
And thou wert most suspicious, as I thought.

Me? Suspect? Me, Seigneur, my heart captured?
If I received such benefits from someone,
I knew it all did flow from your kind hand:
Whatever be the stream that carries them,
You are their source, and I owe all to you.

Scene 6

[Enter LINDAMIRE, unseen]

Yes. But thy friendship, which thou seemedst to show?

Hear this.

I loved the favour of his master,
And never was there for me more delight
Than gratefully receiving his King’s gifts.
If I must make my feelings known to you,
My heart wished you might be less generous:
We all saw with regret his favour grow,
And your best subjects murmured secretly.

He tells you true, Seigneur, and if I may,
In fact, I found his ego sickening.

You craven..

All the Kingdom felt like us.

‘Tis true, Seigneur, this information’s crucial.

O good gods, Lindamire!

And souls like these
Give helpful service for the good of crowns.
Go on, continue with your honest counsel,
Endeavour to defame an injured friend,
Lay out before our eyes a fancied crime,
‘Tis all that comes from Elvire and Clotaire.
Oh! Great King, can it be your Majesty
Suffers such baseness and such cowardice?
Your kingdom’s glory, Prince, amazing Monarch,
See you without a wince this loathsome pair?

Calm thou, calm thou this frenzy most extreme,
We know the source of this behaviour.
They have informed me of thy happy voyage
That Moncade’s love today sets thee upon.
Thou’st no doubt heard so, and this frenzy comes
From being caught with such sweet plans in place.

I did not know of their deep treachery,
And nothing of their slander heard til now.

Why then, this voyage is a fairy tale?

I wish not to deny you, Majesty:
I had designed a voluntary exile
Since I so love a quiet solitude,
It was to leave behind the courtly world,
Because of pure disgust moreso than love.

I will not probe thee further on this point.
One very seldom sees girls of thine age
Exile themselves from court without regret
If love hath not its secret part to play.
I see all thy designs, and what shall come,
And since love is most often without bound,
‘Tis well to think best how to circumvent
The troubles that this flame may yet ignite.
I will to work. [Exeunt the King and Carlos]

Follow the King, Madame.
Let us arrange for our dear friend’s departure. [Exeunt Clotaire, Elvire, and Leonor]

Oh skies that read our hearts! Touch now the King’s,
Or make it so his rage falls but on me. [Exit]

End of Act 4

Act 5

Scene 1

Lindamire, Don Alvar

Moncade arrested! Oh most cruel disgrace!
Good gods, must I believe this woeful news?

I wish to Heaven that I had your doubts,
But, Madame, I saw it with mine own eyes.

Ah! There is no way round this newest pain,
And I can feel my resolve losing strength;
This last blow takes me out, alas, he’s lost!
All hope is dashed by this revelation;
His exile left me with a shred of hope,
We seemed to have a bit of good fortune,
His journey home was set without concern;
But if the King sees him as the State’s enemy,
Believe me, Don Alvar, we have lost all,
My sadness and envy deem that ‘tis so.

But what will this deep sorrow drive you to?

Ah! What decision can I make like this?

Escape, while such a thing is possible.

Escape to where, flying the Crown’s fury?
Where can I hide from an enragèd King?
No, no, I’ll wait my fate with patient calm.

But since you love a guilty man, you will
Be seen as criminal and punished sure.
That is the logic of the State, which holds
Great sway over the minds of fragile Kings.

If Moncade is the victim of that logic,
Then I will buy my crime with all my heart;
And should the King condemn me to his fate,
He spares me from the burden of more choice.
For fear by Heaven that his ardent rage
Blinds him to think I may not be guilty,
Let’s go reveal to him my heart’s secret.
Too much I’ve heeded wicked modesty,
And now without its rule, by my true wish,
I’ll lose this innocence to my desires,
And by the happy justice that shall come,
I’ll share my lover’s destiny forever.
Let’s run now to the King, that some vain hope...

Scene 2

[Enter CARLOS]

Madame, there’s no need to go to such great pains. You may await the King at your lodgings, where he is now bound, having just ordered me to hold you there.

A pretty pretext for such violence.

I do with some regret carry out this ordinance, but the King’s orders....

In this one case,
They seem to be in concert with my heart.
The King does honour me more than I knew,
To treat me as an equal to Moncade.
I don’t deserve this rank; but I may earn it
By imitating him as best I can.
I know this hero was guilty of nothing,
But loving too much what he thought was lovely.
I’ll follow his example, and til death
I hope to share both his crime and his fate.
My glory is the envy of good hearts,
Which I know Carlos has. Tell the King so.
And to be sure to banish all rude thoughts,
Take back again the counsel that you gave:
Fly, noble friend, escape this earth for good,
I see that Heaven has declared a war,
Earth’s people doubtless have enraged the gods:
They have forbid all virtue from these lands.
And since the virtuous must tremble here,
Such men as you have much to doubt and fear.

Ah! Madame, calm this boiling speech of yours,
And temper the excess of your behaviour.

No, no, dear Don Alvar, I’ll play no more,
And having no more hope, I’ll no more fear.

But Madame, the King may have arrived before us, we must, if you please...

Yes, Carlos, that’s enough,
Let’s go.

Forgive me— gods! The King is here, and we have worn his patience.

Scene 3

[Enter the King and Clotaire]

Now see, my Lord, how I retire myself,
And I do so without the least complaint.

Stop, stop right there. Thou shalt be needed soon.
Thou hast too much to do with this business
To spare thyself from bearing witness now.
Carlos, thou understandst?

I will attend to things. [Exit]

Scene 4

Madame, I promise that despite your spite,
I share in all your soul’s pains as my own.

Your heart can then dispense with any pains.
Mine are not quite as big as you might think.

Sweet one, from thine own lips we’ve heard thee swear
How much the guilty one holds thee in sway;
Thou canst not hide thy passion from us now...

No, no, if you would like, I’ll swear again, Seigneur:
Is it a crime to love a great hero
Whom all the world holds in its high esteem?

Now hearing this, my Lord, what wait you for?

Thou call’st the object of my rage such names
As thy tenacious passion bids, and thou
Darest even now disregard my fury?

Well! Why, Seigneur, twas you that lit the flame
That rages in my heart despite myself.
In putting Moncade at the height of glory,
In letting him claim honour after honour,
In burnishing his glorious exploits,
You made him so enchanting to mine eyes.
Had you not built him up with all your grace,
Then his great kindness, faith, his selflessness,
His zeal, and his respect for you yourself
Would not have caught my penetrating eyes.
The greatest virtue crumbles under rage,
The firmest men fall from that high, steep cliff,
Yet I saw him carry all your favour
And did not see his heart stumble at all.
He was a conqueror but not a brute,
Bashful favourite, sincere courtesan,
You’ve known him to be so, yet you’re surprised
That after all this, Moncade charms my soul?

Madame, the only thing that now remains
Of all that glory is its memory.
No longer does a great King grant his gifts
To elevate him to such heights as those.
This is the end and goal of kingly rage,
Which all that are his subjects must find just,
And since you claim to know this glorious Prince,
You should quit fooling your own heart and eyes!
Yes, you must realise that such a King
Would not without reason treat a subject so.
And when I saw this change, knowing the King,
I did suspect Moncade a thousandfold,
I think him rude, ambitious, and a traitor,
I think his virtue, as he shows to us,
Is but a false mask, which he used to hide....

Ah! Sir, can this speech really come from you?
What do I hear, great gods, what calumny
Comes from the Prince Clotaire? Deep treachery!

Don Alvar, what an outburst...

Forgive me,
If that despite my respect it bursts forth.
But when I see this Prince accuse Moncade,
A Prince whose life and province he preserved,
And for whom countless times with all good grace
He craved some boon from you, your Majesty,
I can’t deny, even your mighty self
Could not constrain me to keep my silence.
I know Moncade, ‘tis I, Seigneur, ‘tis I,
That best can answer you about his faith.
‘Tis I alone know his designs, his soul.
We hide our defects from our love’s object,
Adoring Lindamire, we can presume
That he put on some virtues to seem great.
But I who watched him with an extreme care,
And whom he loved as equal to himself,
Seeing him so accused before mine eyes,
I must reject, great King, this unjust blot.

Seigneur, this vehemence and all their rage
Marks them to be confederates in this.
I told you so, that he had bought their hearts,
And won your subjects to him with your favours;
See now what he can do, from these examples,
See just how they disdain the Royal title.

Yes, traitor, those gifts he got from the King,
Doubly enriching his merit and faith,
Made rise this ardour that inspires us now.

After that, great gods, what else can she say?

But if he had our hearts under his thrall,
It was because he did his duty full.

Yes, Lord, he did, I know his innocence.
And if I dare defend him before you,
I do forfeit myself to you, great Prince,
As guarantor of his fidelity.
Yes, if he’s guilty of a single thought
That most unjustly hurts your Majesty,
I will accept, Seigneur, the cruellest doom...

Ah! Such an honour is my due, get off!
Yes, Don Alvar, Moncade does me adore,
So I can answer for him best myself.
Oh King most just and great, now at your knees....

All will be sorted soon. He’s here. Rise thou.

Scene 5

[Enter Moncade]

Come, most unfortunate. See by what proofs
Your secret workings have revealed themselves.
See now the courtiers held most dear by me
Jostling to sacrifice themselves for you.
See Don Alvar, to whom I am less King
Than father, whom I’ve cared for since his first,
Who now defies me for his love of you.
And Lindamire, the source of all my pride,
Would follow your exile, and share your crime.
She loves he who offends me, she has sworn,
And would betray my wishes for that fire.
Is’t possible to think that such a flame....

Oh! Lord, see deeper into her desires,
And do not so severely condemn her,
For but some simple generosity.
‘Tis all, Seigneur, that Lindamire does feel,
There is no love behind her passioned zeal,
And whatsoe’er she’s said to you today,
‘Tis pity, goodness; certainly not love.

Scene 6

[Enter Doña Elvire, Leonor, and Carlos]

You see now, Leonor, my motto is:
The height of joy, always in everything.
But I don’t need to preach my motto here,
Let us retire.

No, stay, thou mayst approach,
Thy presence here shall be necessary,
What I will seek to do needs witnesses.

Yes, to debase me before everyone,
Come here Elvire, we will have need of you,
Knowing of what your soul is capable,
Today you will bear witness to my flame.
I thank you, Lord, for your most thoughtful care,
I’d have the universe to be my witness!

O gods! She’s gone too far.

I’ll freely swear!

Oh! Don’t believe her, Lord, ‘tis all an act!
Knowing the power she has over you,
She has put on this show of emotion,
Hoping a Monarch that does love her might
Extend some grace to me on her behalf.

I’ve said too much, your efforts are in vain,
Thanks to my vow, we two will share a fate.

What have you done to thus bewitch her soul?
Have you promised that you might take my Crown?
I fear your servant has not served you well.

He did just what he must, and served you well,
‘Tis how magnanimous hearts are seduced,
Not with the hope of perpetrating crimes.
Know me now, Seigneur, that which lit my flame,
His most high virtue, that’s what makes me love,
None but his pure fire could move me so much.

Oh sincere love is such a stupid thing,
Long live good friendship and convenient love!

Now by the gods, Madame, be less sincere,
You compound all my wounds with your fierce zeal,
Be less so generous and more prudent.
Alas! Could I have thought before this day,
My greatest sadness would have been her love!

I know my passion makes me criminal,
But being so is now my greatest wish.
Seigneur, if love of me has doomed Moncade,
I would be in return thus doomed for him.
His love displeases you, and so does mine,
I say what he says, and love as he does.
So order the same pains, and matching fires.

Well! Shall Moncade be happy after this?
Shall he still savour his imperfect joy,
And does his King not know to grant his wish?

Seigneur, has your rage been an act?

How couldst
Thou dare to deem it otherwise, Moncade?
Thou’rt innocent, and yet I called thee guilty,
And thou who knowst me as a fair Monarch
Call’st me unjust, and darest to think worse too!
Ah! That suspicion has the most offence,
And but that Moncade knows all ways to please,
‘Tis that that truly might enflame mine ire.

What change!

What have I done!

Vain ambition!

Learn now the secret of my master plan,
Since that for ten years thou hast known me well,
And ne’er a subject has so loved their lord,
Nor has one been so cherished by a King
With as much fervour as thou art by me:
When I saw thee by melancholy gripped,
It was the only thing that lost me sleep.
I knew the cause, and sought to make it cease:
No doubting thoughts have right to do thee harm;
And so I set to find out whether thee
Or just my favour all the Court adores.
Thou’st heard it all, and now on this great day,
Friend, Lady, King, all bend to bring you joy.

Oh! King of all the Kings the most sublime,
That this day marks your name in history!

Do I deserve this excess of goodness,
For laying for your Highness down my life?
And you, most shining friend, whose rarest soul
Seems guarded all against fortune’s sweet charms,
Share with me now the favour of my King.

I followed but my heart, and so stayed true.

Now by your wedding, let’s achieve our goal.

What do I hear? Oh my! Despair! Ah! Rage! [Exeunt Clotaire and Carlos]

Scene 7

Prince...

No, let’s leave him be in his turmoil,
He has well earned his blistering remorse;
And all should learn from his example: none
Can know for certain what a Monarch wills,
And to be sure to not get burned like him,
One must remember to be generous.
But come, let’s go. [Exeunt all but Elvire and Leonor]

Scene 8

And you, philosopher,
Will you come join us in the wedding feast?

No, that’s no joyful way to end the day;
I’ll go find comfort in dear Don Lope.

END