Part 2 — Scene II.—A Street in Lisbon illuminated.

1st Cit. In sooth our city wears a goodly mien, With her far-blazing fanes, and festive lamps Shining from all her marble palaces, Countless as heaven’s fair stars. The humblest lattice Sends forth its radiance. How the sparkling waves Fling back the light! 2d Cit. Ay, ’tis a gallant show; And one which serves, like others, to conceal Things which must not be told. 3d Cit. What wouldst thou say? 2d Cit. That which may scarce, in perilous times like these, Be said with safety. Hast thou look’d within Those stately palaces? Were they but peopled With the high race of warlike nobles, once Their princely lords, think’st thou, good friend, that now They would be glittering with this hollow pomp, To greet a conqueror’s entrance? 3d Cit. Thou say’st well. None but a land forsaken of its chiefs Had been so lost and won. 4th Cit. The lot is cast; We have but to yield. Hush! for some strangers come: Now, friends, beware. 1st Cit. Did the king pass this way At morning, with his train? 2d Cit. Ay: saw you not The long and rich procession? Sebastian enters with Gonzalez and Zamor. Seb. to Gon. This should be The night of some high festival. E’en thus My royal city to the skies sent up, From her illumined fanes and towers, a voice Of gladness, welcoming our first return From Afric’s coast. Speak thou, Gonzalez! ask The cause of this rejoicing. To my heart Deep feelings rush, so mingling and so fast, My voice perchance might tremble. Gon. Citizen, What festal night is this, that all your streets Are throng’d and glittering thus? 1st Cit. Hast thou not heard Of the king’s entry, in triumphal pomp, This very morn? Gon. The king! triumphal pomp!— Thy words are dark. Seb. Speak yet again: mine ears Ring with strange sounds. Again! 1st Cit. I said, the king, Philip of Spain, and now of Portugal, This morning enter’d with a conqueror’s train Our city’s royal palace: and for this We hold our festival. Seb. (in a low voice.) Thou said’st—the king! His name?—I heard it not. 1st Cit. Philip of Spain. Seb. Philip of Spain! We slumber, till aroused By th’ earthquake’s bursting shock. Hath there not fall’n A sudden darkness? All things seem to float Obscurely round me. Now ’tis past. The streets Are blazing with strange fire. Go, quench those lamps; They glare upon me till my very brain Grows dizzy, and doth whirl. How dare ye thus Light up your shrines for him? Gon. Away, away! This is no time, no scene—— Seb. Philip of Spain! How name ye this fair land? Why, is it not The free, the chivalrous Portugal?—the land By the proud ransom of heroic blood Won from the Moor of old? Did that red stream Sink to the earth, and leave no fiery current In the veins of noble men, that so its tide, Full swelling at the sound of hostile steps, Might be a kingdom’s barrier? 2d Cit. That high blood Which should have been our strength, profusely shed By the rash King Sebastian, bathed the plains Of fatal Alcazar. Our monarch’s guilt Hath brought this ruin down. Seb. Must this be heard, And borne, and unchastised? Man, darest thou stand Before me face to face, and thus arraign Thy sovereign? Zam. (aside to Seb.) Shall I lift the sword, my prince, Against thy foes? Gon. Be still—or all is lost. 2d Cit. I dare speak that which all men think and know. ’Tis to Sebastian, and his waste of life, And power, and treasure, that we owe these bonds. 3d Cit. Talk not of bonds. May our new monarch rule The weary land in peace! But who art thou? Whence com’st thou, haughty stranger, that these things, Known to all nations, should be new to thee? Seb. (wildly.) I come from regions where the cities lie In ruins, not in chains! Exit with Gonzalez and Zamor. 2d Cit. He wears the mien Of one that hath commanded; yet his looks And words were strangely wild. 1st Cit. Mark’d you his fierce And haughty gesture, and the flash that broke From his dark eye, when King Sebastian’s name Became our theme? 2d Cit. Trust me, there’s more in this Than may be lightly said. These are no times To breathe men’s thoughts i’ th’ open face of heaven And ear of multitudes. They that would speak Of monarchs and their deeds, should keep within Their quiet homes. Come, let us hence; and then We’ll commune of this stranger.