LEONORA, _Queen of Arragon._ TERESA, _Woman to_ LEONORA. ELVIRA, _Wife to_ GOMEZ. THE SPANISH FRIAR: OR THE DOUBLE DISCOVERY. ACT I.--SCENE I. ALPHONSO _and_ PEDRO _meet, with Soldiers on each Side, Drums, &c._ _Alph._ Stand: give the word. _Ped._ The queen of Arragon. _Alph._ Pedro?--how goes the night? _Ped._ She wears apace. _Alph._ Then welcome day-light; we shall have warm work on't. The Moor will 'gage His utmost forces on this next assault, To win a queen and kingdom. _Ped._ Pox on this lion-way of wooing, though. Is the queen stirring yet? _Alph._ She has not been abed, but in her chapel All night devoutly watched, and bribed the saints With vows for her deliverance. _Ped._ O, Alphonso! I fear they come too late. Her father's crimes Sit heavy on her, and weigh down her prayers. A crown usurped; a lawful king deposed, In bondage held, debarred the common light; His children murdered, and his friends destroyed,-- What can we less expect than what we feel, And what we fear will follow? _Alph._ Heaven avert it! _Ped._ Then heaven must not be heaven. Judge the event By what has passed. The usurper joyed not long His ill-got crown:--'tis true, he died in peace,-- Unriddle that, ye powers!--but left his daughter, Our present queen, engaged upon his death-bed, To marry with young Bertran, whose cursed father Had helped to make him great. Hence, you well know, this fatal war arose; Because the Moor Abdalla, with whose troops The usurper gained the kingdom, was refused; And, as an infidel, his love despised. _Alph._ Well, we are soldiers, Pedro; and, like lawyers, Plead for our pay. _Ped._ A good cause would do well though: It gives my sword an edge. You see this Bertran Has now three times been beaten by the Moors: What hope we have, is in young Torrismond, Your brother's son. _Alph._ He's a successful warrior, And has the soldiers' hearts: upon the skirts Of Arragon our squandered troops he rallies. Our watchmen from the towers with longing eyes Expect his swift arrival. _Ped._ It must be swift, or it will come too late. _Alph._ No more.--Duke Bertran. _Enter_ BERTRAN _attended._ _Bert._ Relieve the sentries that have watched all night. [_To Ped._] Now, colonel, have you disposed your men, That you stand idle here? _Ped._ Mine are drawn off To take a short repose. _Bert._ Short let it be: For, from the Moorish camp, this hour and more, There has been heard a distant humming noise, Like bees disturbed, and arming in their hives. What courage in our soldiers? Speak! What hope? _Ped._ As much as when physicians shake their heads, And bid their dying patient think of heaven. Our walls are thinly manned; our best men slain; The rest, an heartless number, spent with watching, And harassed out with duty. _Bert._ Good-night all, then.