KING CHARLESPART II

EnterQueen PolyxenaandD'Ormea.—A pause.Pol.And now, sir, what have you to say?D'O..Count Tende ...Pol.Affirm not I betrayed you; you resolveOn uttering this strange intelligence—Nay, post yourself to find me ere I reachThe capital, because you know King CharlesTarries a day or two at Evian bathsBehind me:—but take warning,—here and thus[Seating herself in the royal seat.I listen, if I listen—not your friend.Explicitly the statement, if you stillPersist to urge it on me, must proceed:I am not made for aught else.D'O.Good! Count Tende ...Pol.I, who mistrust you, shall acquaint King Charles,Who even more mistrusts you.D'O.Does he so?Pol.Why should he not?D'O.Ay, why not? Motives, seekYou virtuous people, motives! Say, I serveGod at the devil's bidding—will that do?I 'm proud: our people have been pacified,Really I know not how—Pol.By truthfulness.D'O.Exactly; that shows I had naught to doWith pacifying them. Our foreign perilsAlso exceed my means to stay: but here'T is otherwise, and my pride 's piqued. Count TendeCompletes a full year's absence: would you, madam,Have the old monarch back, his mistress back,His measures back? I pray you, act uponMy counsel, or they will be.Pol.When?D'O.Let 's think.Home-matters settled—Victor 's coming now;Let foreign matters settle—Victor 's hereUnless I stop him; as I will, this way.Pol.[Reading the papers he presents.]If this shouldprove a plot 'twixt you and Victor?You seek annoyances to give the pretextFor what you say you fear!D'O.Oh, possibly!I go for nothing. Only show King CharlesThat thus Count Tende purposes return,And style me his inviter, if you please!Pol.Half of your tale is true; most like, the CountSeeks to return: but why stay you with us?To aid in such emergencies.D'O.Keep safeThose papers: or, to serve me, leave no proofI thus have counselled! When the Count returns,And the King abdicates, 't will stead me littleTo have thus counselled.Pol.The King abdicate!D'O.He 's good, we knew long since—wise, we discover—Firm, let us hope:—but I 'd have gone to workWith him away. Well![Charleswithout.]In the Council Chamber?D'O.All 's lost!Pol.Oh, surely not King Charles! He 's changed—That 's not this year's care-burdened voice and step:'T is last year's step, the Prince's voice!D'O.I know.(EnterCharles—D'Ormearetiring a little.)Cha.Now wish me joy, Polyxena! Wish it meThe old way![She embraces him.There was too much cause for that!But I have found myself again. What newsAt Turin? Oh, if you but felt the loadI 'm free of—free! I said this year would endOr it, or me—but I am free, thank God!Pol.How, Charles?Cha.You do not guess? The day I foundSardinia's hideous coil, at home, abroad,And how my father was involved in it,—Of course, I vowed to rest and smile no moreUntil I cleared his name from obloquy.We did the people right—'t was much to gainThat point, redress our nobles' grievance, too—But that took place here, was no crying shame:All must be done abroad,—if I abroadAppeased the justly-angered Powers, destroyedThe scandal, took down Victor's name at lastFrom a bad eminence, I then might breatheAnd rest! No moment was to lose. BeholdThe proud result—a Treaty, Austria, SpainAgree to—D'O.[Aside.]I shall merely stipulateFor an experienced headsman.Cha.Not a soulIs compromised: the blotted past 's a blank:Even D'Ormea escapes unquestioned. See!It reached me from Vienna; I remainedAt Evian to dispatch the Count his news;'T is gone to Chambery a week ago—And here am I: do I deserve to feelYour warm white arms around me?D'O.[Coming forward.]He knows that?Cha.What, in Heaven's name, means this?D'O.He knows that mattersAre settled at Vienna? Not too late!Plainly, unless you post this very hourSome man you trust (say, me) to ChamberyAnd take precautions I acquaint you with,Your father will return here.Cha.Are you crazed,D'Ormea? Here? For what? As well returnTo take his crown!D'O.He will return for that.Cha.[ToPol.]You have not listened to this man?Pol.He spokeAbout your safety—and I listened.[He disengages himself from her arms.Cha.[To D'O.]WhatApprised you of the Count's intentions?D'O.Me?His heart, sir; you may not be used to readSuch evidence however; therefore read[Pointing toPolyxena'spapers.My evidence.Cha.[ToPol.]Oh, worthy this of you!And of your speech I never have forgotten,Though I professed forgetfulness; which haunts meAs if I did not know how false it was;Which made me toil unconsciously thus longThat there might be no least occasion leftFor aught of its prediction coming true!And now, when there is left no least occasionTo instigate my father to such crime—When I might venture to forget (I hoped)That speech and recognize Polyxena—Oh worthy, to revive, and tenfold worse,That plague! D'Ormea at your ear, his slandersStill in your hand! Silent?Pol.As the wronged are.Cha.And you, D'Ormea, since when have you presumedTo spy upon my father? I conceiveWhat that wise paper shows, and easily.Since when?D'O.The when and where and how belongTo me. 'T is sad work, but I deal in such.You ofttimes serve yourself; I'd serve you here:Use makes me not so squeamish. In a word,Since the first hour he went to Chambery,Of his seven servants, five have I suborned.Cha.You hate my father?D'O.Oh, just as you will![Looking atPolyxena.A minute since, I loved him—hate him, now!What matter?—if you ponder just one thing:Has he that treaty?—he is setting forwardAlready. Are your guards here?Cha.Well for youThey are not![ToPol.]Him I knew of old, but you—To hear that pickthank, further his designs![ToD'O.Guards?—were they here, I 'd bid them, for your trouble,Arrest you.D'O.Guards you shall not want. I livedThe servant of your choice, not of your need.You never greatly needed me till nowThat you discard me. This is my arrest.Again I tender you my charge—its dutyWould bid me press you read those documents.Here, sir![Offering his badge of Office.Cha.[Taking it.]The papers also! Do you thinkI dare not read them?Pol.Read them, sir!Cha.They prove,My father, still a month within the yearSince he so solemnly consigned it me,Means to resume his crown? They shall prove that,Or my best dungeon ...D'O.Even say, Chambery!'T is vacant, I surmise, by this.Cha.You proveYour words or pay their forfeit, sir. Go there!Polyxena, one chance to rend the veilThickening and blackening 'twixt us two! Do say,You 'll see the falsehood of the charges proved!Do say, at least, you wish to see them provedFalse charges—my heart's love of other times!Pol.Ah, Charles!Cha.[To D'O.]Precede me, sir!D'O.And I 'm at lengthA martyr for the truth! No end, they say,Of miracles. My conscious innocence!(As they go out, enter—by the middle door, at which he pauses—Victor.)Vic.Sure I heard voices? No. Well, I do bestTo make at once for this, the heart o' the place.The old room! Nothing changed! So near my seat,D'Ormea?[Pushing away the stool which is by theKing'schair.I want that meeting over first,I know not why. Tush, he, D'Ormea, slowTo hearten me, the supple knave? That burstOf spite so eased him! He 'll inform me ...What?Why come I hither? All 's in rough: let allRemain rough. There 's full time to draw back—nay,There 's naught to draw back from, as yet; whereas,If reason should be, to arrest a courseOf error—reason good, to interposeAnd save, as I have saved so many times,Our House, admonish my son's giddy youth,Relieve him of a weight that proves too much—Now is the time,—or now, or never.'Faith,This kind of step is pitiful, not dueTo Charles, this stealing back—hither, becauseHe 's from his capital! Oh Victor! Victor!But thus it is. The age of crafty menIs loathsome; youth contrives to carry offDissimulation; we may intersperseExtenuating passages of strength,Ardor, vivacity and wit—may turnE'en guile into a voluntary grace:But one's old age, when graces drop awayAnd leave guile the pure staple of our lives—Ah, loathsome!Not so—or why pause I? TurinIs mine to have, were I so minded, forThe asking; all the army 's mine—I 've witnessedEach private fight beneath me; all the Court 'sMine too; and, best of all, D'Ormea's stillD'Ormea and mine. There 's some grace clinging yet.Had I decided on this step, ere midnightI 'd take the crown.No. Just this step to riseExhausts me. Here am I arrived: the restMust be done for me. Would I could sit hereAnd let things right themselves, the masque unmasqueOf the old King, crownless, gray hair and hot blood,—The young King, crowned, but calm before his time,They say,—the eager mistress with her taunts,—And the sad earnest wife who motions meAway—ay, there she knelt to me! E'en yetI can return and sleep at ChamberyA dream out.Rather shake it off at Turin,King Victor! Say: to Turin—yes, or no?'T is this relentless noonday-lighted chamber.Lighted like life but silent as the grave,That disconcerts me. That 's the change must strike.No silence last year! Some one flung doors wide(Those two great doors which scrutinize me now)And out I went 'mid crowds of men—men talking,Men watching if my lip fell or brow knit,Men saw me safe forth, put me on my road:That makes the misery of this return.Oh had a battle done it! Had I dropped,Haling some battle, three entire days old,Hither and thither by the forehead—droppedIn Spain, in Austria, best of all, in France—Spurned on its horns or underneath its hoofs,When the spent monster went upon its kneesTo pad and pash the prostrate wretch—I, Victor,Sole to have stood up against France, beat downBy inches, brayed to pieces finallyIn some vast unimaginable charge,A flying hell of horse and foot and gunsOver me, and all 's lost, forever lost,There 's no more Victor when the world wakes up!Then silence, as of a raw battlefield,Throughout the world. Then after (as whole daysAfter, you catch at intervals faint noiseThrough the stiff crust of frozen blood)—there creepsA rumor forth, so faint, no noise at all,That a strange old man, with face outworn for wounds,Is stumbling on from frontier town to town,Begging a pittance that may help him findHis Turin out; what scorn and laughter followThe coin you fling into his cap! And last,Some bright morn, how men crowd about the midstO' the market-place, where takes the old king breathEre with his crutch he strike the palace-gateWide ope!To Turin, yes or no—or no?(Re-enterCharleswith papers.)Cha.Just as I thought! A miserable falsehoodOf hirelings discontented with their payAnd longing for enfranchisement! A fewTesty expressions of old age that thinksTo keep alive its dignity o'er slavesBy means that suit their natures![Tearing them.]Thus they shakeMy faith in Victor![Turning, he discoversVictor.Vic.[After a pause.]Not at Evian, Charles?What's this? Why do you run to close the doors?No welcome for your father?Cha.[Aside.]Not his voice!What would I give for one imperious toneOf the old sort! That's gone forever.Vic.MustI ask once more ...Cha.No—I concede it, sir!You are returned for ... true, your health declines;True, Chambery 's a bleak unkindly spot;You 'd choose one fitter for your final lodge—Veneria, or Moncaglier—ay, that's closeAnd I concede it.Vic.I received advicesOf the conclusion of the Spanish matter,Dated from Evian Baths ...Cha.And you forboreTo visit me at Evian, satisfiedThe work I had to do would fully taskThe little wit I have, and that your presenceWould only disconcert me—Vic.Charles?Cha.—Me, setForever in a foreign course to yours,And ...Sir, this way of wile were good to catch,But I have not the sleight of it. The truth!Though I sink under it! What brings you here?Vic.Not hope of this reception, certainly,From one who 'd scarce assume a stranger modeOf speech, did I return to bring aboutSome awfullest calamity!Cha.—You mean,Did you require your crown again! Oh yes,I should speak otherwise! But turn not thatTo jesting! Sir, the truth! Your health declines?Is aught deficient in your equipage?Wisely you seek myself to make complaint,And foil the malice of the world which laughsAt petty discontents; but I shall careThat not a soul knows of this visit. Speak!Vic.[Aside.]Here is the grateful much-professing sonPrepared to worship me, for whose sole sakeI think to waive my plans of public good![Aloud.]Nay, Charles, if I did seek to take once moreMy crown, were so disposed to plague myself,What would be warrant for this bitterness?I gave it—grant I would resume it—well?Cha.I should say simply—leaving out the whyAnd how—you made me swear to keep that crown:And as you then intended ...Vic.Fool! What wayCould I intend or not intend? As man,With a man's will, when I say "I intend,"I can intend up to a certain point,No farther. I intended to preserveThe crown of Savoy and Sardinia whole:And if events arise demonstratingThe way, I hoped should guard it, rather likeTo lose it ...Cha.Keep within your sphere and mine!It is God's province we usurp on, else.Here, blindfold through the maze of things we walkBy a slight clue of false, true, right and wrong;All else is rambling and presumption. IHave sworn to keep this kingdom: there's my truth.Vic.Truth, boy, is here, within my breast; and inYour recognition of it, truth is, too;And in the effect of all this tortuous dealingWith falsehood, used to carry out the truth,—In its success, this falsehood turns, again,Truth for the world! But you are right: these themesAre over-subtle. I should rather sayIn such a case, frankly,—it fails, my scheme:I hoped to see you bring about, yourself,What I must bring about. I interposeOn your behalf—with my son's good in sight—To hold what he is nearly letting go,Confirm his title, add a grace perhaps.There's Sicily, for instance,—granted meAnd taken back, some years since: till I giveThat island with the rest, my work's half done.For his sake, therefore, as of those he rules ...Cha.Our sakes are one; and that, you could not say,Because my answer would present itselfForthwith:—a year has wrought an age's change.This people's not the people now, you onceCould benefit; nor is my policyYour policy.Vic.[With an outburst.]I know it! You undoAll I have done—my life of toil and care!I left you this the absolutest ruleIn Europe: do you think I sit and smile,Bid you throw power to the populace—See my Sardinia, that has kept apart,Join in the mad and democratic whirlWhereto I see all Europe haste full tide?England casts off her kings; France mimics England:This realm I hoped was safe! Yet here I talk,When I can save it, not by force alone,But bidding plagues, which follow sons like you,Fasten upon my disobedient ...[Recollecting himself.]SurelyI could say this—if minded so—my son?Cha.You could not. Bitterer curses than your curseHave I long since denounced upon myselfIf I misused my power. In fear of theseI entered on those measures—will abideBy them: so, I should say, Count Tende ...Vic.No!But no! But if, my Charles, your—more than old—Half-foolish father urged these arguments,And then confessed them futile, but said plainlyThat he forgot his promise, found his strengthFail him, had thought at savage ChamberyToo much of brilliant Turin, Rivoli here,And Susa, and Veneria, and Superga—Pined for the pleasant places he had builtWhen he was fortunate and young—Cha.My father!Vic.Stay yet!—and if he said he could not dieDeprived of baubles he had put aside,He deemed, forever—of the Crown that bindsYour brain up, whole, sound and impregnable,Creating kingliness—the Sceptre too,Whose mere wind, should you wave it, back would beatInvaders—and the golden Ball which throbsAs if you grasped the palpitating heartIndeed o' the realm, to mould as choose you may!—If I must totter up and down the streetsMy sires built, where myself have introducedAnd fostered laws and letters, sciences,The civil and the military arts!Stay, Charles! I see you letting me pretendTo live my former self once more—King Victor,The venturous yet politic: they style meAgain, the Father of the Prince: friends winkGood-humoredly at the delusion youSo sedulously guard from all rough truthsThat else would break upon my dotage!—You—Whom now I see preventing my old shame—I tell not, point by cruel point, my tale—For is't not in your breast my brow is hid?Is not your hand extended? Say you not ...(EnterD'Ormea,leading inPolyxena.)Pol.[Advancing and withdrawingCharles—toVictor.]In this conjuncture even, he would say(Though with a moistened eye and quivering lip)The suppliant is my father. I must saveA great man from himself, nor see him flingHis well-earned fame away: there must not followRuin so utter, a break-down of worthSo absolute: no enemy shall learn,He thrust his child 'twist danger and himself.And, when that child somehow stood danger out,Stole back with serpent wiles to ruin Charles—Body, that's much,—and soul, that's more—and realm,That's most of all! No enemy shall say ...D'O.Do you repent, sir?Vic.[Resuming himself.]D'Ormea? This is well!Worthily done, King Charles, craftily done!Judiciously you post these, to o'erhearThe little your importunate father thrustsHimself on you to say!—Ah, they'll correctThe amiable blind facilityYou show in answering his peevish suit.What can he need to sue for? Thanks, D'Ormea!You have fulfilled your office: but for you,The old Count might have drawn some few more livresTo swell his income! Had you, lady, missedThe moment, a permission might be grantedTo buttress up my ruinous old pile!But you remember properly the listOf wise precautions I took when I gaveNearly as much away—to reap the fruitsI should have looked for!Cha.Thanks, sir: degrade me,So you remain yourself! Adieu!Vic.I'll notForget it for the future, nor presumeNext time to slight such mediators! Nay—Had I first moved them both to intercede,I might secure a chamber in Moncaglier—Who knows?Cha.Adieu!Vic.You bid me this adieuWith the old spirit?Cha.Adieu!Vic.Charles—Charles!Cha.Adieu![Victorgoes.Cha.You were mistaken, Marquis, as you hear!'Twas for another purpose the Count came.The Count desires Moncaglier. Give the order!D'O.[Leisurely.]Your minister has lost your confidence,Asserting late, for his own purposes,Count Tende would ...Cha.[Flinging his badge back.]Be still the minister!And give a loose to your insulting joy;It irks me more thus stifled than expressed:Loose it!D'O.There's none to loose, alas! I seeI never am to die a martyr.Pol.Charles!Cha.No praise, at least, Polyxena—no praise!

EnterQueen PolyxenaandD'Ormea.—A pause.

Pol.And now, sir, what have you to say?

D'O..Count Tende ...

Pol.Affirm not I betrayed you; you resolveOn uttering this strange intelligence—Nay, post yourself to find me ere I reachThe capital, because you know King CharlesTarries a day or two at Evian bathsBehind me:—but take warning,—here and thus[Seating herself in the royal seat.I listen, if I listen—not your friend.Explicitly the statement, if you stillPersist to urge it on me, must proceed:I am not made for aught else.

Pol.Affirm not I betrayed you; you resolve

On uttering this strange intelligence

—Nay, post yourself to find me ere I reach

The capital, because you know King Charles

Tarries a day or two at Evian baths

Behind me:—but take warning,—here and thus

[Seating herself in the royal seat.

I listen, if I listen—not your friend.

Explicitly the statement, if you still

Persist to urge it on me, must proceed:

I am not made for aught else.

D'O.Good! Count Tende ...

Pol.I, who mistrust you, shall acquaint King Charles,Who even more mistrusts you.

Pol.I, who mistrust you, shall acquaint King Charles,

Who even more mistrusts you.

D'O.Does he so?

Pol.Why should he not?

D'O.Ay, why not? Motives, seekYou virtuous people, motives! Say, I serveGod at the devil's bidding—will that do?I 'm proud: our people have been pacified,Really I know not how—

D'O.Ay, why not? Motives, seek

You virtuous people, motives! Say, I serve

God at the devil's bidding—will that do?

I 'm proud: our people have been pacified,

Really I know not how—

Pol.By truthfulness.

D'O.Exactly; that shows I had naught to doWith pacifying them. Our foreign perilsAlso exceed my means to stay: but here'T is otherwise, and my pride 's piqued. Count TendeCompletes a full year's absence: would you, madam,Have the old monarch back, his mistress back,His measures back? I pray you, act uponMy counsel, or they will be.

D'O.Exactly; that shows I had naught to do

With pacifying them. Our foreign perils

Also exceed my means to stay: but here

'T is otherwise, and my pride 's piqued. Count Tende

Completes a full year's absence: would you, madam,

Have the old monarch back, his mistress back,

His measures back? I pray you, act upon

My counsel, or they will be.

Pol.When?

D'O.Let 's think.Home-matters settled—Victor 's coming now;Let foreign matters settle—Victor 's hereUnless I stop him; as I will, this way.

D'O.Let 's think.

Home-matters settled—Victor 's coming now;

Let foreign matters settle—Victor 's here

Unless I stop him; as I will, this way.

Pol.[Reading the papers he presents.]If this shouldprove a plot 'twixt you and Victor?You seek annoyances to give the pretextFor what you say you fear!

Pol.[Reading the papers he presents.]If this should

prove a plot 'twixt you and Victor?

You seek annoyances to give the pretext

For what you say you fear!

D'O.Oh, possibly!I go for nothing. Only show King CharlesThat thus Count Tende purposes return,And style me his inviter, if you please!

D'O.Oh, possibly!

I go for nothing. Only show King Charles

That thus Count Tende purposes return,

And style me his inviter, if you please!

Pol.Half of your tale is true; most like, the CountSeeks to return: but why stay you with us?To aid in such emergencies.

Pol.Half of your tale is true; most like, the Count

Seeks to return: but why stay you with us?

To aid in such emergencies.

D'O.Keep safeThose papers: or, to serve me, leave no proofI thus have counselled! When the Count returns,And the King abdicates, 't will stead me littleTo have thus counselled.

D'O.Keep safe

Those papers: or, to serve me, leave no proof

I thus have counselled! When the Count returns,

And the King abdicates, 't will stead me little

To have thus counselled.

Pol.The King abdicate!

D'O.He 's good, we knew long since—wise, we discover—Firm, let us hope:—but I 'd have gone to workWith him away. Well!

D'O.He 's good, we knew long since—wise, we discover—

Firm, let us hope:—but I 'd have gone to work

With him away. Well!

[Charleswithout.]In the Council Chamber?

D'O.All 's lost!

Pol.Oh, surely not King Charles! He 's changed—That 's not this year's care-burdened voice and step:'T is last year's step, the Prince's voice!

Pol.Oh, surely not King Charles! He 's changed—

That 's not this year's care-burdened voice and step:

'T is last year's step, the Prince's voice!

D'O.I know.

(EnterCharles—D'Ormearetiring a little.)

Cha.Now wish me joy, Polyxena! Wish it meThe old way![She embraces him.There was too much cause for that!But I have found myself again. What newsAt Turin? Oh, if you but felt the loadI 'm free of—free! I said this year would endOr it, or me—but I am free, thank God!

Cha.Now wish me joy, Polyxena! Wish it me

The old way![She embraces him.

There was too much cause for that!

But I have found myself again. What news

At Turin? Oh, if you but felt the load

I 'm free of—free! I said this year would end

Or it, or me—but I am free, thank God!

Pol.How, Charles?

Cha.You do not guess? The day I foundSardinia's hideous coil, at home, abroad,And how my father was involved in it,—Of course, I vowed to rest and smile no moreUntil I cleared his name from obloquy.We did the people right—'t was much to gainThat point, redress our nobles' grievance, too—But that took place here, was no crying shame:All must be done abroad,—if I abroadAppeased the justly-angered Powers, destroyedThe scandal, took down Victor's name at lastFrom a bad eminence, I then might breatheAnd rest! No moment was to lose. BeholdThe proud result—a Treaty, Austria, SpainAgree to—

Cha.You do not guess? The day I found

Sardinia's hideous coil, at home, abroad,

And how my father was involved in it,—

Of course, I vowed to rest and smile no more

Until I cleared his name from obloquy.

We did the people right—'t was much to gain

That point, redress our nobles' grievance, too—

But that took place here, was no crying shame:

All must be done abroad,—if I abroad

Appeased the justly-angered Powers, destroyed

The scandal, took down Victor's name at last

From a bad eminence, I then might breathe

And rest! No moment was to lose. Behold

The proud result—a Treaty, Austria, Spain

Agree to—

D'O.[Aside.]I shall merely stipulateFor an experienced headsman.

D'O.[Aside.]I shall merely stipulate

For an experienced headsman.

Cha.Not a soulIs compromised: the blotted past 's a blank:Even D'Ormea escapes unquestioned. See!It reached me from Vienna; I remainedAt Evian to dispatch the Count his news;'T is gone to Chambery a week ago—And here am I: do I deserve to feelYour warm white arms around me?

Cha.Not a soul

Is compromised: the blotted past 's a blank:

Even D'Ormea escapes unquestioned. See!

It reached me from Vienna; I remained

At Evian to dispatch the Count his news;

'T is gone to Chambery a week ago—

And here am I: do I deserve to feel

Your warm white arms around me?

D'O.[Coming forward.]He knows that?

Cha.What, in Heaven's name, means this?

D'O.He knows that mattersAre settled at Vienna? Not too late!Plainly, unless you post this very hourSome man you trust (say, me) to ChamberyAnd take precautions I acquaint you with,Your father will return here.

D'O.He knows that matters

Are settled at Vienna? Not too late!

Plainly, unless you post this very hour

Some man you trust (say, me) to Chambery

And take precautions I acquaint you with,

Your father will return here.

Cha.Are you crazed,D'Ormea? Here? For what? As well returnTo take his crown!

Cha.Are you crazed,

D'Ormea? Here? For what? As well return

To take his crown!

D'O.He will return for that.

Cha.[ToPol.]You have not listened to this man?

Pol.He spokeAbout your safety—and I listened.[He disengages himself from her arms.

Pol.He spoke

About your safety—and I listened.[He disengages himself from her arms.

Cha.[To D'O.]WhatApprised you of the Count's intentions?

Cha.[To D'O.]What

Apprised you of the Count's intentions?

D'O.Me?His heart, sir; you may not be used to readSuch evidence however; therefore read[Pointing toPolyxena'spapers.My evidence.

D'O.Me?

His heart, sir; you may not be used to read

Such evidence however; therefore read[Pointing toPolyxena'spapers.

My evidence.

Cha.[ToPol.]Oh, worthy this of you!And of your speech I never have forgotten,Though I professed forgetfulness; which haunts meAs if I did not know how false it was;Which made me toil unconsciously thus longThat there might be no least occasion leftFor aught of its prediction coming true!And now, when there is left no least occasionTo instigate my father to such crime—When I might venture to forget (I hoped)That speech and recognize Polyxena—Oh worthy, to revive, and tenfold worse,That plague! D'Ormea at your ear, his slandersStill in your hand! Silent?

Cha.[ToPol.]Oh, worthy this of you!

And of your speech I never have forgotten,

Though I professed forgetfulness; which haunts me

As if I did not know how false it was;

Which made me toil unconsciously thus long

That there might be no least occasion left

For aught of its prediction coming true!

And now, when there is left no least occasion

To instigate my father to such crime—

When I might venture to forget (I hoped)

That speech and recognize Polyxena—

Oh worthy, to revive, and tenfold worse,

That plague! D'Ormea at your ear, his slanders

Still in your hand! Silent?

Pol.As the wronged are.

Cha.And you, D'Ormea, since when have you presumedTo spy upon my father? I conceiveWhat that wise paper shows, and easily.Since when?

Cha.And you, D'Ormea, since when have you presumed

To spy upon my father? I conceive

What that wise paper shows, and easily.

Since when?

D'O.The when and where and how belongTo me. 'T is sad work, but I deal in such.You ofttimes serve yourself; I'd serve you here:Use makes me not so squeamish. In a word,Since the first hour he went to Chambery,Of his seven servants, five have I suborned.

D'O.The when and where and how belong

To me. 'T is sad work, but I deal in such.

You ofttimes serve yourself; I'd serve you here:

Use makes me not so squeamish. In a word,

Since the first hour he went to Chambery,

Of his seven servants, five have I suborned.

Cha.You hate my father?

D'O.Oh, just as you will![Looking atPolyxena.A minute since, I loved him—hate him, now!What matter?—if you ponder just one thing:Has he that treaty?—he is setting forwardAlready. Are your guards here?

D'O.Oh, just as you will![Looking atPolyxena.

A minute since, I loved him—hate him, now!

What matter?—if you ponder just one thing:

Has he that treaty?—he is setting forward

Already. Are your guards here?

Cha.Well for youThey are not![ToPol.]Him I knew of old, but you—To hear that pickthank, further his designs![ToD'O.Guards?—were they here, I 'd bid them, for your trouble,Arrest you.

Cha.Well for you

They are not![ToPol.]Him I knew of old, but you—

To hear that pickthank, further his designs![ToD'O.

Guards?—were they here, I 'd bid them, for your trouble,

Arrest you.

D'O.Guards you shall not want. I livedThe servant of your choice, not of your need.You never greatly needed me till nowThat you discard me. This is my arrest.Again I tender you my charge—its dutyWould bid me press you read those documents.Here, sir![Offering his badge of Office.

D'O.Guards you shall not want. I lived

The servant of your choice, not of your need.

You never greatly needed me till now

That you discard me. This is my arrest.

Again I tender you my charge—its duty

Would bid me press you read those documents.

Here, sir![Offering his badge of Office.

Cha.[Taking it.]The papers also! Do you thinkI dare not read them?

Cha.[Taking it.]The papers also! Do you think

I dare not read them?

Pol.Read them, sir!

Cha.They prove,My father, still a month within the yearSince he so solemnly consigned it me,Means to resume his crown? They shall prove that,Or my best dungeon ...

Cha.They prove,

My father, still a month within the year

Since he so solemnly consigned it me,

Means to resume his crown? They shall prove that,

Or my best dungeon ...

D'O.Even say, Chambery!'T is vacant, I surmise, by this.

D'O.Even say, Chambery!

'T is vacant, I surmise, by this.

Cha.You proveYour words or pay their forfeit, sir. Go there!Polyxena, one chance to rend the veilThickening and blackening 'twixt us two! Do say,You 'll see the falsehood of the charges proved!Do say, at least, you wish to see them provedFalse charges—my heart's love of other times!

Cha.You prove

Your words or pay their forfeit, sir. Go there!

Polyxena, one chance to rend the veil

Thickening and blackening 'twixt us two! Do say,

You 'll see the falsehood of the charges proved!

Do say, at least, you wish to see them proved

False charges—my heart's love of other times!

Pol.Ah, Charles!

Cha.[To D'O.]Precede me, sir!

D'O.And I 'm at lengthA martyr for the truth! No end, they say,Of miracles. My conscious innocence!

D'O.And I 'm at length

A martyr for the truth! No end, they say,

Of miracles. My conscious innocence!

(As they go out, enter—by the middle door, at which he pauses—Victor.)

Vic.Sure I heard voices? No. Well, I do bestTo make at once for this, the heart o' the place.The old room! Nothing changed! So near my seat,D'Ormea?[Pushing away the stool which is by theKing'schair.I want that meeting over first,I know not why. Tush, he, D'Ormea, slowTo hearten me, the supple knave? That burstOf spite so eased him! He 'll inform me ...What?Why come I hither? All 's in rough: let allRemain rough. There 's full time to draw back—nay,There 's naught to draw back from, as yet; whereas,If reason should be, to arrest a courseOf error—reason good, to interposeAnd save, as I have saved so many times,Our House, admonish my son's giddy youth,Relieve him of a weight that proves too much—Now is the time,—or now, or never.'Faith,This kind of step is pitiful, not dueTo Charles, this stealing back—hither, becauseHe 's from his capital! Oh Victor! Victor!But thus it is. The age of crafty menIs loathsome; youth contrives to carry offDissimulation; we may intersperseExtenuating passages of strength,Ardor, vivacity and wit—may turnE'en guile into a voluntary grace:But one's old age, when graces drop awayAnd leave guile the pure staple of our lives—Ah, loathsome!Not so—or why pause I? TurinIs mine to have, were I so minded, forThe asking; all the army 's mine—I 've witnessedEach private fight beneath me; all the Court 'sMine too; and, best of all, D'Ormea's stillD'Ormea and mine. There 's some grace clinging yet.Had I decided on this step, ere midnightI 'd take the crown.No. Just this step to riseExhausts me. Here am I arrived: the restMust be done for me. Would I could sit hereAnd let things right themselves, the masque unmasqueOf the old King, crownless, gray hair and hot blood,—The young King, crowned, but calm before his time,They say,—the eager mistress with her taunts,—And the sad earnest wife who motions meAway—ay, there she knelt to me! E'en yetI can return and sleep at ChamberyA dream out.Rather shake it off at Turin,King Victor! Say: to Turin—yes, or no?'T is this relentless noonday-lighted chamber.Lighted like life but silent as the grave,That disconcerts me. That 's the change must strike.No silence last year! Some one flung doors wide(Those two great doors which scrutinize me now)And out I went 'mid crowds of men—men talking,Men watching if my lip fell or brow knit,Men saw me safe forth, put me on my road:That makes the misery of this return.Oh had a battle done it! Had I dropped,Haling some battle, three entire days old,Hither and thither by the forehead—droppedIn Spain, in Austria, best of all, in France—Spurned on its horns or underneath its hoofs,When the spent monster went upon its kneesTo pad and pash the prostrate wretch—I, Victor,Sole to have stood up against France, beat downBy inches, brayed to pieces finallyIn some vast unimaginable charge,A flying hell of horse and foot and gunsOver me, and all 's lost, forever lost,There 's no more Victor when the world wakes up!Then silence, as of a raw battlefield,Throughout the world. Then after (as whole daysAfter, you catch at intervals faint noiseThrough the stiff crust of frozen blood)—there creepsA rumor forth, so faint, no noise at all,That a strange old man, with face outworn for wounds,Is stumbling on from frontier town to town,Begging a pittance that may help him findHis Turin out; what scorn and laughter followThe coin you fling into his cap! And last,Some bright morn, how men crowd about the midstO' the market-place, where takes the old king breathEre with his crutch he strike the palace-gateWide ope!To Turin, yes or no—or no?

Vic.Sure I heard voices? No. Well, I do best

To make at once for this, the heart o' the place.

The old room! Nothing changed! So near my seat,

D'Ormea?[Pushing away the stool which is by theKing'schair.

I want that meeting over first,

I know not why. Tush, he, D'Ormea, slow

To hearten me, the supple knave? That burst

Of spite so eased him! He 'll inform me ...

What?

Why come I hither? All 's in rough: let all

Remain rough. There 's full time to draw back—nay,

There 's naught to draw back from, as yet; whereas,

If reason should be, to arrest a course

Of error—reason good, to interpose

And save, as I have saved so many times,

Our House, admonish my son's giddy youth,

Relieve him of a weight that proves too much—

Now is the time,—or now, or never.

'Faith,

This kind of step is pitiful, not due

To Charles, this stealing back—hither, because

He 's from his capital! Oh Victor! Victor!

But thus it is. The age of crafty men

Is loathsome; youth contrives to carry off

Dissimulation; we may intersperse

Extenuating passages of strength,

Ardor, vivacity and wit—may turn

E'en guile into a voluntary grace:

But one's old age, when graces drop away

And leave guile the pure staple of our lives—

Ah, loathsome!

Not so—or why pause I? Turin

Is mine to have, were I so minded, for

The asking; all the army 's mine—I 've witnessed

Each private fight beneath me; all the Court 's

Mine too; and, best of all, D'Ormea's still

D'Ormea and mine. There 's some grace clinging yet.

Had I decided on this step, ere midnight

I 'd take the crown.

No. Just this step to rise

Exhausts me. Here am I arrived: the rest

Must be done for me. Would I could sit here

And let things right themselves, the masque unmasque

Of the old King, crownless, gray hair and hot blood,—

The young King, crowned, but calm before his time,

They say,—the eager mistress with her taunts,—

And the sad earnest wife who motions me

Away—ay, there she knelt to me! E'en yet

I can return and sleep at Chambery

A dream out.

Rather shake it off at Turin,

King Victor! Say: to Turin—yes, or no?

'T is this relentless noonday-lighted chamber.

Lighted like life but silent as the grave,

That disconcerts me. That 's the change must strike.

No silence last year! Some one flung doors wide

(Those two great doors which scrutinize me now)

And out I went 'mid crowds of men—men talking,

Men watching if my lip fell or brow knit,

Men saw me safe forth, put me on my road:

That makes the misery of this return.

Oh had a battle done it! Had I dropped,

Haling some battle, three entire days old,

Hither and thither by the forehead—dropped

In Spain, in Austria, best of all, in France—

Spurned on its horns or underneath its hoofs,

When the spent monster went upon its knees

To pad and pash the prostrate wretch—I, Victor,

Sole to have stood up against France, beat down

By inches, brayed to pieces finally

In some vast unimaginable charge,

A flying hell of horse and foot and guns

Over me, and all 's lost, forever lost,

There 's no more Victor when the world wakes up!

Then silence, as of a raw battlefield,

Throughout the world. Then after (as whole days

After, you catch at intervals faint noise

Through the stiff crust of frozen blood)—there creeps

A rumor forth, so faint, no noise at all,

That a strange old man, with face outworn for wounds,

Is stumbling on from frontier town to town,

Begging a pittance that may help him find

His Turin out; what scorn and laughter follow

The coin you fling into his cap! And last,

Some bright morn, how men crowd about the midst

O' the market-place, where takes the old king breath

Ere with his crutch he strike the palace-gate

Wide ope!

To Turin, yes or no—or no?

(Re-enterCharleswith papers.)

Cha.Just as I thought! A miserable falsehoodOf hirelings discontented with their payAnd longing for enfranchisement! A fewTesty expressions of old age that thinksTo keep alive its dignity o'er slavesBy means that suit their natures![Tearing them.]Thus they shakeMy faith in Victor![Turning, he discoversVictor.

Cha.Just as I thought! A miserable falsehood

Of hirelings discontented with their pay

And longing for enfranchisement! A few

Testy expressions of old age that thinks

To keep alive its dignity o'er slaves

By means that suit their natures![Tearing them.]

Thus they shake

My faith in Victor![Turning, he discoversVictor.

Vic.[After a pause.]Not at Evian, Charles?What's this? Why do you run to close the doors?No welcome for your father?

Vic.[After a pause.]Not at Evian, Charles?

What's this? Why do you run to close the doors?

No welcome for your father?

Cha.[Aside.]Not his voice!What would I give for one imperious toneOf the old sort! That's gone forever.

Cha.[Aside.]Not his voice!

What would I give for one imperious tone

Of the old sort! That's gone forever.

Vic.MustI ask once more ...

Vic.Must

I ask once more ...

Cha.No—I concede it, sir!You are returned for ... true, your health declines;True, Chambery 's a bleak unkindly spot;You 'd choose one fitter for your final lodge—Veneria, or Moncaglier—ay, that's closeAnd I concede it.

Cha.No—I concede it, sir!

You are returned for ... true, your health declines;

True, Chambery 's a bleak unkindly spot;

You 'd choose one fitter for your final lodge—

Veneria, or Moncaglier—ay, that's close

And I concede it.

Vic.I received advicesOf the conclusion of the Spanish matter,Dated from Evian Baths ...

Vic.I received advices

Of the conclusion of the Spanish matter,

Dated from Evian Baths ...

Cha.And you forboreTo visit me at Evian, satisfiedThe work I had to do would fully taskThe little wit I have, and that your presenceWould only disconcert me—

Cha.And you forbore

To visit me at Evian, satisfied

The work I had to do would fully task

The little wit I have, and that your presence

Would only disconcert me—

Vic.Charles?

Cha.—Me, setForever in a foreign course to yours,And ...Sir, this way of wile were good to catch,But I have not the sleight of it. The truth!Though I sink under it! What brings you here?

Cha.—Me, set

Forever in a foreign course to yours,

And ...

Sir, this way of wile were good to catch,

But I have not the sleight of it. The truth!

Though I sink under it! What brings you here?

Vic.Not hope of this reception, certainly,From one who 'd scarce assume a stranger modeOf speech, did I return to bring aboutSome awfullest calamity!

Vic.Not hope of this reception, certainly,

From one who 'd scarce assume a stranger mode

Of speech, did I return to bring about

Some awfullest calamity!

Cha.—You mean,Did you require your crown again! Oh yes,I should speak otherwise! But turn not thatTo jesting! Sir, the truth! Your health declines?Is aught deficient in your equipage?Wisely you seek myself to make complaint,And foil the malice of the world which laughsAt petty discontents; but I shall careThat not a soul knows of this visit. Speak!

Cha.—You mean,

Did you require your crown again! Oh yes,

I should speak otherwise! But turn not that

To jesting! Sir, the truth! Your health declines?

Is aught deficient in your equipage?

Wisely you seek myself to make complaint,

And foil the malice of the world which laughs

At petty discontents; but I shall care

That not a soul knows of this visit. Speak!

Vic.[Aside.]Here is the grateful much-professing sonPrepared to worship me, for whose sole sakeI think to waive my plans of public good![Aloud.]Nay, Charles, if I did seek to take once moreMy crown, were so disposed to plague myself,What would be warrant for this bitterness?I gave it—grant I would resume it—well?

Vic.[Aside.]Here is the grateful much-professing son

Prepared to worship me, for whose sole sake

I think to waive my plans of public good!

[Aloud.]Nay, Charles, if I did seek to take once more

My crown, were so disposed to plague myself,

What would be warrant for this bitterness?

I gave it—grant I would resume it—well?

Cha.I should say simply—leaving out the whyAnd how—you made me swear to keep that crown:And as you then intended ...

Cha.I should say simply—leaving out the why

And how—you made me swear to keep that crown:

And as you then intended ...

Vic.Fool! What wayCould I intend or not intend? As man,With a man's will, when I say "I intend,"I can intend up to a certain point,No farther. I intended to preserveThe crown of Savoy and Sardinia whole:And if events arise demonstratingThe way, I hoped should guard it, rather likeTo lose it ...

Vic.Fool! What way

Could I intend or not intend? As man,

With a man's will, when I say "I intend,"

I can intend up to a certain point,

No farther. I intended to preserve

The crown of Savoy and Sardinia whole:

And if events arise demonstrating

The way, I hoped should guard it, rather like

To lose it ...

Cha.Keep within your sphere and mine!It is God's province we usurp on, else.Here, blindfold through the maze of things we walkBy a slight clue of false, true, right and wrong;All else is rambling and presumption. IHave sworn to keep this kingdom: there's my truth.

Cha.Keep within your sphere and mine!

It is God's province we usurp on, else.

Here, blindfold through the maze of things we walk

By a slight clue of false, true, right and wrong;

All else is rambling and presumption. I

Have sworn to keep this kingdom: there's my truth.

Vic.Truth, boy, is here, within my breast; and inYour recognition of it, truth is, too;And in the effect of all this tortuous dealingWith falsehood, used to carry out the truth,—In its success, this falsehood turns, again,Truth for the world! But you are right: these themesAre over-subtle. I should rather sayIn such a case, frankly,—it fails, my scheme:I hoped to see you bring about, yourself,What I must bring about. I interposeOn your behalf—with my son's good in sight—To hold what he is nearly letting go,Confirm his title, add a grace perhaps.There's Sicily, for instance,—granted meAnd taken back, some years since: till I giveThat island with the rest, my work's half done.For his sake, therefore, as of those he rules ...

Vic.Truth, boy, is here, within my breast; and in

Your recognition of it, truth is, too;

And in the effect of all this tortuous dealing

With falsehood, used to carry out the truth,

—In its success, this falsehood turns, again,

Truth for the world! But you are right: these themes

Are over-subtle. I should rather say

In such a case, frankly,—it fails, my scheme:

I hoped to see you bring about, yourself,

What I must bring about. I interpose

On your behalf—with my son's good in sight—

To hold what he is nearly letting go,

Confirm his title, add a grace perhaps.

There's Sicily, for instance,—granted me

And taken back, some years since: till I give

That island with the rest, my work's half done.

For his sake, therefore, as of those he rules ...

Cha.Our sakes are one; and that, you could not say,Because my answer would present itselfForthwith:—a year has wrought an age's change.This people's not the people now, you onceCould benefit; nor is my policyYour policy.

Cha.Our sakes are one; and that, you could not say,

Because my answer would present itself

Forthwith:—a year has wrought an age's change.

This people's not the people now, you once

Could benefit; nor is my policy

Your policy.

Vic.[With an outburst.]I know it! You undoAll I have done—my life of toil and care!I left you this the absolutest ruleIn Europe: do you think I sit and smile,Bid you throw power to the populace—See my Sardinia, that has kept apart,Join in the mad and democratic whirlWhereto I see all Europe haste full tide?England casts off her kings; France mimics England:This realm I hoped was safe! Yet here I talk,When I can save it, not by force alone,But bidding plagues, which follow sons like you,Fasten upon my disobedient ...[Recollecting himself.]SurelyI could say this—if minded so—my son?

Vic.[With an outburst.]I know it! You undo

All I have done—my life of toil and care!

I left you this the absolutest rule

In Europe: do you think I sit and smile,

Bid you throw power to the populace—

See my Sardinia, that has kept apart,

Join in the mad and democratic whirl

Whereto I see all Europe haste full tide?

England casts off her kings; France mimics England:

This realm I hoped was safe! Yet here I talk,

When I can save it, not by force alone,

But bidding plagues, which follow sons like you,

Fasten upon my disobedient ...

[Recollecting himself.]Surely

I could say this—if minded so—my son?

Cha.You could not. Bitterer curses than your curseHave I long since denounced upon myselfIf I misused my power. In fear of theseI entered on those measures—will abideBy them: so, I should say, Count Tende ...

Cha.You could not. Bitterer curses than your curse

Have I long since denounced upon myself

If I misused my power. In fear of these

I entered on those measures—will abide

By them: so, I should say, Count Tende ...

Vic.No!But no! But if, my Charles, your—more than old—Half-foolish father urged these arguments,And then confessed them futile, but said plainlyThat he forgot his promise, found his strengthFail him, had thought at savage ChamberyToo much of brilliant Turin, Rivoli here,And Susa, and Veneria, and Superga—Pined for the pleasant places he had builtWhen he was fortunate and young—

Vic.No!

But no! But if, my Charles, your—more than old—

Half-foolish father urged these arguments,

And then confessed them futile, but said plainly

That he forgot his promise, found his strength

Fail him, had thought at savage Chambery

Too much of brilliant Turin, Rivoli here,

And Susa, and Veneria, and Superga—

Pined for the pleasant places he had built

When he was fortunate and young—

Cha.My father!

Vic.Stay yet!—and if he said he could not dieDeprived of baubles he had put aside,He deemed, forever—of the Crown that bindsYour brain up, whole, sound and impregnable,Creating kingliness—the Sceptre too,Whose mere wind, should you wave it, back would beatInvaders—and the golden Ball which throbsAs if you grasped the palpitating heartIndeed o' the realm, to mould as choose you may!—If I must totter up and down the streetsMy sires built, where myself have introducedAnd fostered laws and letters, sciences,The civil and the military arts!Stay, Charles! I see you letting me pretendTo live my former self once more—King Victor,The venturous yet politic: they style meAgain, the Father of the Prince: friends winkGood-humoredly at the delusion youSo sedulously guard from all rough truthsThat else would break upon my dotage!—You—Whom now I see preventing my old shame—I tell not, point by cruel point, my tale—For is't not in your breast my brow is hid?Is not your hand extended? Say you not ...

Vic.Stay yet!—and if he said he could not die

Deprived of baubles he had put aside,

He deemed, forever—of the Crown that binds

Your brain up, whole, sound and impregnable,

Creating kingliness—the Sceptre too,

Whose mere wind, should you wave it, back would beat

Invaders—and the golden Ball which throbs

As if you grasped the palpitating heart

Indeed o' the realm, to mould as choose you may!

—If I must totter up and down the streets

My sires built, where myself have introduced

And fostered laws and letters, sciences,

The civil and the military arts!

Stay, Charles! I see you letting me pretend

To live my former self once more—King Victor,

The venturous yet politic: they style me

Again, the Father of the Prince: friends wink

Good-humoredly at the delusion you

So sedulously guard from all rough truths

That else would break upon my dotage!—You—

Whom now I see preventing my old shame—

I tell not, point by cruel point, my tale—

For is't not in your breast my brow is hid?

Is not your hand extended? Say you not ...

(EnterD'Ormea,leading inPolyxena.)

Pol.[Advancing and withdrawingCharles—toVictor.]In this conjuncture even, he would say(Though with a moistened eye and quivering lip)The suppliant is my father. I must saveA great man from himself, nor see him flingHis well-earned fame away: there must not followRuin so utter, a break-down of worthSo absolute: no enemy shall learn,He thrust his child 'twist danger and himself.And, when that child somehow stood danger out,Stole back with serpent wiles to ruin Charles—Body, that's much,—and soul, that's more—and realm,That's most of all! No enemy shall say ...

Pol.[Advancing and withdrawingCharles—toVictor.]

In this conjuncture even, he would say

(Though with a moistened eye and quivering lip)

The suppliant is my father. I must save

A great man from himself, nor see him fling

His well-earned fame away: there must not follow

Ruin so utter, a break-down of worth

So absolute: no enemy shall learn,

He thrust his child 'twist danger and himself.

And, when that child somehow stood danger out,

Stole back with serpent wiles to ruin Charles

—Body, that's much,—and soul, that's more—and realm,

That's most of all! No enemy shall say ...

D'O.Do you repent, sir?

Vic.[Resuming himself.]D'Ormea? This is well!Worthily done, King Charles, craftily done!Judiciously you post these, to o'erhearThe little your importunate father thrustsHimself on you to say!—Ah, they'll correctThe amiable blind facilityYou show in answering his peevish suit.What can he need to sue for? Thanks, D'Ormea!You have fulfilled your office: but for you,The old Count might have drawn some few more livresTo swell his income! Had you, lady, missedThe moment, a permission might be grantedTo buttress up my ruinous old pile!But you remember properly the listOf wise precautions I took when I gaveNearly as much away—to reap the fruitsI should have looked for!

Vic.[Resuming himself.]D'Ormea? This is well!

Worthily done, King Charles, craftily done!

Judiciously you post these, to o'erhear

The little your importunate father thrusts

Himself on you to say!—Ah, they'll correct

The amiable blind facility

You show in answering his peevish suit.

What can he need to sue for? Thanks, D'Ormea!

You have fulfilled your office: but for you,

The old Count might have drawn some few more livres

To swell his income! Had you, lady, missed

The moment, a permission might be granted

To buttress up my ruinous old pile!

But you remember properly the list

Of wise precautions I took when I gave

Nearly as much away—to reap the fruits

I should have looked for!

Cha.Thanks, sir: degrade me,So you remain yourself! Adieu!

Cha.Thanks, sir: degrade me,

So you remain yourself! Adieu!

Vic.I'll notForget it for the future, nor presumeNext time to slight such mediators! Nay—Had I first moved them both to intercede,I might secure a chamber in Moncaglier—Who knows?

Vic.I'll not

Forget it for the future, nor presume

Next time to slight such mediators! Nay—

Had I first moved them both to intercede,

I might secure a chamber in Moncaglier

—Who knows?

Cha.Adieu!

Vic.You bid me this adieuWith the old spirit?

Vic.You bid me this adieu

With the old spirit?

Cha.Adieu!

Vic.Charles—Charles!

Cha.Adieu!

[Victorgoes.

Cha.You were mistaken, Marquis, as you hear!'Twas for another purpose the Count came.The Count desires Moncaglier. Give the order!

Cha.You were mistaken, Marquis, as you hear!

'Twas for another purpose the Count came.

The Count desires Moncaglier. Give the order!

D'O.[Leisurely.]Your minister has lost your confidence,Asserting late, for his own purposes,Count Tende would ...

D'O.[Leisurely.]Your minister has lost your confidence,

Asserting late, for his own purposes,

Count Tende would ...

Cha.[Flinging his badge back.]Be still the minister!And give a loose to your insulting joy;It irks me more thus stifled than expressed:Loose it!

Cha.[Flinging his badge back.]Be still the minister!

And give a loose to your insulting joy;

It irks me more thus stifled than expressed:

Loose it!

D'O.There's none to loose, alas! I seeI never am to die a martyr.

D'O.There's none to loose, alas! I see

I never am to die a martyr.

Pol.Charles!

Cha.No praise, at least, Polyxena—no praise!

D'Ormeaseated, folding papers he has been examining.This at the last effects it: now, King CharlesOr else King Victor—that's a balance: but now,D'Ormea the arch-culprit, either turnOf the scale,—that's sure enough. A point to solve,My masters, moralists, whate'er your style!When you discover why I push myselfInto a pitfall you'd pass safely by,Impart to me among the rest! No matter.Prompt are the righteous ever with their redeTo us the wrongful: lesson them this once!For safe among the wicked are you set,D'Ormea! We lament life's brevity,Yet quarter e'en the threescore years and ten,Nor stick to call the quarter roundly "life."D'Ormea was wicked, say, some twenty years;A tree so long was stunted; afterward,What if it grew, continued growing, tillNo fellow of the forest equalled it?'Twas a stump then; a stump it still must be:While forward saplings, at the outset cheeked,In virtue of that first sprout keep their styleAmid the forest's green fraternity.Thus I shoot up to surely get lopped downAnd bound up for the burning. Now for it!(EnterCharlesandPolyxenawithAttendants.)D'O.[Rises.]Sir, in the due discharge of this my office—This enforced summons of yourself from Turin,And the disclosure I am bound to makeTo-night,—there must already be, I feel,So much that wounds ...Cha..Well, sir?D'O.—That I, perchance,May utter also what, another time,Would irk much,—it may prove less irksome now.Cha.What would you utter?D'O.That I from my soulGrieve at to-night's event: for you I grieve,E'en grieve for ...Cha.Tush, another time for talk!My kingdom is in imminent danger?D'O.LetThe Count communicate with France—its King,His grandson, will have Fleury's aid for this,Though for no other war.Cha.First for the levies:What forces can I muster presently?[D'Ormeadelivers papers whichCharlesinspects.Cha.Good—very good. Montorio ... how is this?—Equips me double the old complementOf soldiers?D'O.Since his land has been relievedFrom double imposts, this he manages:But under the late monarch ...Cha.Peace! I know.Count Spava has omitted mentioningWhat proxy is to head these troops of his.D'O.Count Spava means to head his troops himself.Something to fight for now; "Whereas," says he,"Under the sovereign's father" ...Cha.It would seemThat all my people love me.D'O.Yes.[ToPolyxenawhileCharlescontinues to inspect the papers.A temperLike Victor's may avail to keep a state;He terrifies men and they fall not off;Good to restrain: best, if restraint were all.But, with the silent circle round him, endsSuch sway: our King's begins precisely there.For to suggest, impel and set at work,Is quite another function. Men may slight,In time of peace, the King who brought them peace:In war,—his voice, his eyes, help more than fear.They love you, sir!Cha.[To Attendants.]Bring the regalia, forth!Quit the room! And now, Marquis, answer me!Why should the King of France invade my realm?D'O.Why? Did I not acquaint your MajestyAn hour ago?Cha.I choose to hear againWhat then I heard.D'O.Because, sir, as I said,Your father is resolved to have his crownAt any risk; and, as I judge, calls inThe foreigner to aid him.Cha.And your reasonFor saying this?D'O.[Aside.]Ay, just his father's way![ToCha.]The Count wrote yesterday to your forces' Chief,Rhebinder—made demand of help—Cha.To tryRhebinder—he 's of alien blood. Aught else?D'O.Receiving a refusal,—some hours after,The Count called on Del Borgo to deliverThe Act of Abdication: he refusing,Or hesitating, rather—Cha.What ensued?D'O.At midnight, only two hours since, at Turin,He rode in person to the citadelWith one attendant, to Soccorso gate,And bade the governor, San Remi, open—Admit him.Cha.For a purpose I divine.These three were faithful, then?D'O.They told it me:And I—Cha.Most faithful—D'O.Tell it you—with thisMoreover of my own: if, an hour hence,You have not interposed, the Count will beO' the road to France for succor.Cha.Very good!You do your duty now to me your monarchFully, I warrant?—have, that is, your projectFor saving both of us disgrace, no doubt?D'O.I give my counsel,—and the only one.A month since, I besought you to employRestraints which had prevented many a pang:But now the harsher course must be pursued.These papers, made for the emergency,Will pain you to subscribe: this is a listOf those suspected merely—men to watch;This—of the few of the Count's very householdYou must, however reluctantly, arrest;While here's a method of remonstrance—sureNot stronger than the case demands—to takeWith the Count's self.Cha.Deliver those three papers.Pol.[WhileCharlesinspects them—toD'Ormea.]Your measures are not over-harsh, sir: FranceWill hardly be deterred from her intentsBy these.D'O.If who proposes might dispose,I could soon satisfy you. Even these,Hear what he'll say at my presenting!Cha.[who has signed them]. There!About the warrants! You've my signature.What turns you pale? I do my duty by youIn acting boldly thus on your advice.D'O.[Reading them separately.]Arrest the people I suspected merely?Cha.Did you suspect them?D'O.Doubtless: but—but—sir,This Forquieri's governor of Turin,And Rivarol and he have influence overHalf of the capital! Rabella, too?Why, sir—Cha.Oh, leave the fear to me!D'O.[Still reading.]You bid meIncarcerate the people on this list?Sir—Cha.But you never bade arrest those men,So close related to my father too,On trifling grounds?D'O.Oh, as for that, St. George,President of Chambery's senators,Is hatching treason! still—[More troubled.]Sir, Count CumianeIs brother to your father's wife! What 's here?Arrest the wife herself?Cha.You seem to thinkA venial crime this plot against me. Well?D'O.[who has read the last paper.]Wherefore am I thus ruined? Why not takeMy life at once? This poor formalityIs, let me say, unworthy you! Prevent itYou, madam! I have served you, am preparedFor all disgraces: only, let disgraceBe plain, be proper—proper for the worldTo pass its judgment on 'twixt you and me!Take back your warrant, I will none of it!Cha.Here is a man to talk of fickleness!He stakes his life upon my father's falsehood;I bid him ...D'O.Not you! Were he trebly false,You do not bid me ...Cha.Is 't not written there?I thought so: give—I 'll set it right.D'O.Is it there?Oh yes, and plain—arrest him now—drag hereYour father! And were all six times as plain,Do you suppose I trust it?Cha.Just one word!You bring him, taken in the act of flight,Or else your life is forfeit.D'O.Ay, to TurinI bring him, and to-morrow?Cha.Here and now!The whole thing is a lie, a hateful lie,As I believed and as my father said.I knew it from the first, but was compelledTo circumvent you; and the great D'Ormea,That baffled Alberoni and tricked Coscia,The miserable sower of such discord'Twixt sire and son, is in the toils at last.Oh I see! you arrive—this plan of yours,Weak as it is, torments sufficientlyA sick old peevish man—wrings hasty speech,An ill-considered threat from him; that's noted;Then out you ferret papers, his amusementIn lonely hours of lassitude—examineThe day-by-day report of your paid spies—And back you come: all was not ripe, you find,And, as you hope, may keep from ripening yet,But you were in bare time! Only, 'twere bestI never saw my father—these old menAre potent in excuses: and meanwhile,D'Ormea's the man I cannot do without!Pol.Charles—Cha.Ah, no question! You against me too!You 'd have me eat and drink and sleep, live, die,With this lie coiled about me, choking me!No, no, D'Ormea! You venture life, you say,Upon my father's perfidy: and IHave, on the whole, no right to disregardThe chains of testimony you thus windAbout me; though I do—do from my soulDiscredit them: still I must authorizeThese measures, and I will. Perugia![ManyOfficersenter.]Count—You and Solar, with all the force you have,Stand at the Marquis' orders: what he bids,Implicitly perform! You are to bringA traitor here; the man that 's likest oneAt present, fronts me; you are at his beckFor a full hour! he undertakes to showA fouler than himself,—but, failing that,Return with him, and, as my father lives,He dies this night! The clemency you blameSo oft, shall be revoked—rights exercised,Too long abjured.[To D'O.]Now, sir, about the work!To save your king and country! Take the warrant!D'O.You hear the sovereign's mandate, Count Perugia?Obey me! As your diligence, expectReward! All follow to Montcaglier![D'Ormeagoes.Cha.[In great anguish.]D'Ormea!He goes, lit up with that appalling smile![ToPolyxenaafter a pause.At least you understand all this?Pol.These meansOf our defence—these measures of precaution?Cha.It must be the best way: I should have elseWithered beneath his scorn.Pol.What would you say?Cha.Why, do you think I mean to keep the crown, Polyxena?Pol.You then believe the storyIn spite of all—that Victor comes?Cha.Believe it?I know that he is coming—feel the strengthThat has upheld me leave me at his coming!'T was mine, and now he takes his own again.Some kinds of strength are well enough to have;But who 's to have that strength? Let my crown go!I meant to keep it; but I cannot—cannot!Only, he shall not taunt me—he, the first ...See if he would not be the first to taunt meWith having left his kingdom at a word,With letting it be conquered without stroke,With ... no—no—'t is no worse than when he left!I 've just to bid him take it, and, that over,We 'll fly away—fly, for I loathe this Turin,This Rivoli, all titles loathe, all state.We 'd best go to your country—unless GodSend I die now!Pol.Charles, hear me!Cha.And againShall you be my Polyxena—you 'll take meOut of this woe! Yes, do speak, and keep speaking!I would not let you speak just now, for fearYou 'd counsel me against him: but talk, now,As we two used to talk in blessed times:Bid me endure all his caprices; take meFrom this mad post above him!Pol.I believeWe are undone, but from a different cause.All your resources, down to the least guard,Are at D'Ormea's beck. What if, the while,He act in concert with your father? WeIndeed were lost. This lonely Rivoli—Where find a better place for them?Cha.[Pacing the room.]And whyDoes Victor come? To undo all that 's done,Restore the past, prevent the future! SeatHis mistress in your seat, and place in mine... Oh, my own people, whom will you find there,To ask of, to consult with, to care for,To hold up with your hands? Whom? One that's false—False—from the head's crown to the foot's sole, false!The best is, that I knew it in my heartFrom the beginning, and expected this,And hated you, Polyxena, becauseYou saw through him, though I too saw through him,Saw that he meant this while he crowned me, whileHe prayed for me,—nay, while he kissed my brow,I saw—Pol.But if your measures take effect,D'Ormea true to you?Cha.Then worst of all!I shall have loosed that callous wretch on him!Well may the woman taunt him with his child—I, eating here his bread, clothed in his clothes,Seated upon his seat, let slip D'OrmeaTo outrage him! We talk—perchance he tearsMy father from his bed; the old hands feelFor one who is not, but who should be there:He finds D'Ormea! D'Ormea too finds him!The crowded chamber when the lights go out—Closed doors—the horrid scuffle in the dark—The accursed prompting of the minute! My guards!To horse—and after, with me—and prevent!Pol.[Seizing his hand.]King Charles! Pause here upon this strip of timeAllotted you out of eternity!Crowns are from God: you in his name hold yours.Your life 's no least thing, were it fit your lifeShould be abjured along with rule; but now,Keep both! Your duty is to live and rule—You, who would vulgarly look fine enoughIn the world's eye, deserting your soul's charge,—Ay, you would have men's praise, this RivoliWould be illumined! While, as 't is, no doubt,Something of stain will ever rest on you;No one will rightly know why you refusedTo abdicate; they 'll talk of deeds you couldHave done, no doubt,—nor do I much expectFuture achievement will blot out the past,Envelope it in haze—nor shall we twoLive happy any more. 'T will be, I feel,Only in moments that the duty 's seenAs palpably as now: the months, the yearsOf painful indistinctness are to come,While daily must we tread these palace-roomsPregnant with memories of the past: your eyeMay turn to mine and find no comfort there,Through fancies that beset me, as yourself,Of other courses, with far other issues,We might have taken this great night: such bear,As I will bear! What matters happiness?Duty! There's man's one moment: this is yours![Putting the crown on his head, and the sceptre in his hand, she places him on his seat: a long pause and silence.(EnterD'OrmeaandVictor,withGuards.)Vic.At last I speak; but once—that once, to you!'T is you I ask, not these your varletry,Who 's King of us?Cha.[From his seat.]Count Tende ...Vic.What your spiesAssert I ponder in my soul, I say—Here to your face, amid your guards! I chooseTo take again the crown whose shadow I gave—For still its potency surrounds the weakWhite locks their felon hands have discomposed.Or I 'll not ask who 's King, but simply, whoWithholds the crown I claim? Deliver it!I have no friend in the wide world: nor FranceNor England cares for me: you see the sumOf what I can avail. Deliver it!Cha.Take it, my father!And now say in turn,Was it done well, my father—sure not well,To try me thus! I might have seen much causeFor keeping it—too easily seen cause!But, from that moment, e'en more woefullyMy life had pined away, than pine it will.Already you have much to answer for.My life to pine is nothing,—her sunk eyesWere happy once! No doubt, my people thinkI am their King still ... but I cannot strive!Take it!Vic.[One hand on the crownCharlesoffers,the other on his neck.]So few years give it quietly,My son! It will drop from me. See you not?A crown 's unlike a sword to give away—That, let a strong hand to a weak hand give!But crowns should slip from palsied brows to headsYoung as this head: yet mine is weak enough,E'en weaker than I knew. I seek for phrasesTo vindicate my right. 'T is of a piece!All is alike gone by with me—who beatOnce D'Orleans in his lines—his very lines!To have been Eugene's comrade, Louis's rival,And now ...Cha.[Putting the crown on him, to the rest.]The King speaks, yet none kneels, I think!Vic.I am then King! As I became a KingDespite the nations, kept myself a King,So I die King, with Kingship dying tooAround me! I have lasted Europe's time!What wants my story of completion? WhereMust needs the damning break show? Who mistrustsMy children here—tell they of any break'Twixt my day's sunrise and its fiery fall?And who were by me when I died but they?D'Ormea there!Cha.What means he?Vic.Ever there!Charles—how to save your story! Mine must go!Say—say that you refused the crown to me!Charles, yours shall be my story! You immuredMe, say, at Rivoli. A single yearI spend without a sight of you, then die.That will serve every purpose—tell that taleThe world!Cha.Mistrust me? Help!Vic.Past help, past reach!'T is in the heart—you cannot reach the heart:This broke mine, that I did believe, you, Charles,Would have denied me and disgraced me.Pol.CharlesHas never ceased to be your subject, sir!He reigned at first through setting up yourselfAs pattern: if he e'er seemed harsh to you,'T was from a too intense appreciationOf your own character: he acted you—Ne'er for an instant did I think it real,Nor look for any other than this end.I hold him worlds the worse on that account;But so it was.Cha.[ToPol.]I love you now indeed![ToVic.]You never knew me!Vic.Hardly till this moment,When I seem learning many other thingsBecause the time for using them is past.If 't were to do again! That's idly wished.Truthfulness might prove policy as goodAs guile. Is this my daughter's forehead? Yes:I 've made it fitter now to be a queen'sThan formerly: I 've ploughed the deep lines thereWhich keep too well a crown from slipping off.No matter. Guile has made me King again.Louis—'t was in King Victor's time:—long since,When Louis reigned and, also, Victor reigned.How the world talks already of us two!God of eclipse and each discolored star,Why do I linger then?Ha! Where lurks he?D'Ormea! Nearer to your King! Now stand![Collecting his strength asD'Ormeaapproaches.You lied, D'Ormea! I do not repent.[Dies.

D'Ormeaseated, folding papers he has been examining.

This at the last effects it: now, King CharlesOr else King Victor—that's a balance: but now,D'Ormea the arch-culprit, either turnOf the scale,—that's sure enough. A point to solve,My masters, moralists, whate'er your style!When you discover why I push myselfInto a pitfall you'd pass safely by,Impart to me among the rest! No matter.Prompt are the righteous ever with their redeTo us the wrongful: lesson them this once!For safe among the wicked are you set,D'Ormea! We lament life's brevity,Yet quarter e'en the threescore years and ten,Nor stick to call the quarter roundly "life."D'Ormea was wicked, say, some twenty years;A tree so long was stunted; afterward,What if it grew, continued growing, tillNo fellow of the forest equalled it?'Twas a stump then; a stump it still must be:While forward saplings, at the outset cheeked,In virtue of that first sprout keep their styleAmid the forest's green fraternity.Thus I shoot up to surely get lopped downAnd bound up for the burning. Now for it!

This at the last effects it: now, King Charles

Or else King Victor—that's a balance: but now,

D'Ormea the arch-culprit, either turn

Of the scale,—that's sure enough. A point to solve,

My masters, moralists, whate'er your style!

When you discover why I push myself

Into a pitfall you'd pass safely by,

Impart to me among the rest! No matter.

Prompt are the righteous ever with their rede

To us the wrongful: lesson them this once!

For safe among the wicked are you set,

D'Ormea! We lament life's brevity,

Yet quarter e'en the threescore years and ten,

Nor stick to call the quarter roundly "life."

D'Ormea was wicked, say, some twenty years;

A tree so long was stunted; afterward,

What if it grew, continued growing, till

No fellow of the forest equalled it?

'Twas a stump then; a stump it still must be:

While forward saplings, at the outset cheeked,

In virtue of that first sprout keep their style

Amid the forest's green fraternity.

Thus I shoot up to surely get lopped down

And bound up for the burning. Now for it!

(EnterCharlesandPolyxenawithAttendants.)

D'O.[Rises.]Sir, in the due discharge of this my office—This enforced summons of yourself from Turin,And the disclosure I am bound to makeTo-night,—there must already be, I feel,So much that wounds ...

D'O.[Rises.]Sir, in the due discharge of this my office—

This enforced summons of yourself from Turin,

And the disclosure I am bound to make

To-night,—there must already be, I feel,

So much that wounds ...

Cha..Well, sir?

D'O.—That I, perchance,May utter also what, another time,Would irk much,—it may prove less irksome now.

D'O.—That I, perchance,

May utter also what, another time,

Would irk much,—it may prove less irksome now.

Cha.What would you utter?

D'O.That I from my soulGrieve at to-night's event: for you I grieve,E'en grieve for ...

D'O.That I from my soul

Grieve at to-night's event: for you I grieve,

E'en grieve for ...

Cha.Tush, another time for talk!My kingdom is in imminent danger?

Cha.Tush, another time for talk!

My kingdom is in imminent danger?

D'O.LetThe Count communicate with France—its King,His grandson, will have Fleury's aid for this,Though for no other war.

D'O.Let

The Count communicate with France—its King,

His grandson, will have Fleury's aid for this,

Though for no other war.

Cha.First for the levies:What forces can I muster presently?

Cha.First for the levies:

What forces can I muster presently?

[D'Ormeadelivers papers whichCharlesinspects.

Cha.Good—very good. Montorio ... how is this?—Equips me double the old complementOf soldiers?

Cha.Good—very good. Montorio ... how is this?

—Equips me double the old complement

Of soldiers?

D'O.Since his land has been relievedFrom double imposts, this he manages:But under the late monarch ...

D'O.Since his land has been relieved

From double imposts, this he manages:

But under the late monarch ...

Cha.Peace! I know.Count Spava has omitted mentioningWhat proxy is to head these troops of his.

Cha.Peace! I know.

Count Spava has omitted mentioning

What proxy is to head these troops of his.

D'O.Count Spava means to head his troops himself.Something to fight for now; "Whereas," says he,"Under the sovereign's father" ...

D'O.Count Spava means to head his troops himself.

Something to fight for now; "Whereas," says he,

"Under the sovereign's father" ...

Cha.It would seemThat all my people love me.

Cha.It would seem

That all my people love me.

D'O.Yes.

[ToPolyxenawhileCharlescontinues to inspect the papers.

A temperLike Victor's may avail to keep a state;He terrifies men and they fall not off;Good to restrain: best, if restraint were all.But, with the silent circle round him, endsSuch sway: our King's begins precisely there.For to suggest, impel and set at work,Is quite another function. Men may slight,In time of peace, the King who brought them peace:In war,—his voice, his eyes, help more than fear.They love you, sir!

A temper

Like Victor's may avail to keep a state;

He terrifies men and they fall not off;

Good to restrain: best, if restraint were all.

But, with the silent circle round him, ends

Such sway: our King's begins precisely there.

For to suggest, impel and set at work,

Is quite another function. Men may slight,

In time of peace, the King who brought them peace:

In war,—his voice, his eyes, help more than fear.

They love you, sir!

Cha.[To Attendants.]Bring the regalia, forth!Quit the room! And now, Marquis, answer me!Why should the King of France invade my realm?

Cha.[To Attendants.]Bring the regalia, forth!

Quit the room! And now, Marquis, answer me!

Why should the King of France invade my realm?

D'O.Why? Did I not acquaint your MajestyAn hour ago?

D'O.Why? Did I not acquaint your Majesty

An hour ago?

Cha.I choose to hear againWhat then I heard.

Cha.I choose to hear again

What then I heard.

D'O.Because, sir, as I said,Your father is resolved to have his crownAt any risk; and, as I judge, calls inThe foreigner to aid him.

D'O.Because, sir, as I said,

Your father is resolved to have his crown

At any risk; and, as I judge, calls in

The foreigner to aid him.

Cha.And your reasonFor saying this?

Cha.And your reason

For saying this?

D'O.[Aside.]Ay, just his father's way![ToCha.]The Count wrote yesterday to your forces' Chief,Rhebinder—made demand of help—

D'O.[Aside.]Ay, just his father's way!

[ToCha.]The Count wrote yesterday to your forces' Chief,

Rhebinder—made demand of help—

Cha.To tryRhebinder—he 's of alien blood. Aught else?

Cha.To try

Rhebinder—he 's of alien blood. Aught else?

D'O.Receiving a refusal,—some hours after,The Count called on Del Borgo to deliverThe Act of Abdication: he refusing,Or hesitating, rather—

D'O.Receiving a refusal,—some hours after,

The Count called on Del Borgo to deliver

The Act of Abdication: he refusing,

Or hesitating, rather—

Cha.What ensued?

D'O.At midnight, only two hours since, at Turin,He rode in person to the citadelWith one attendant, to Soccorso gate,And bade the governor, San Remi, open—Admit him.

D'O.At midnight, only two hours since, at Turin,

He rode in person to the citadel

With one attendant, to Soccorso gate,

And bade the governor, San Remi, open—

Admit him.

Cha.For a purpose I divine.These three were faithful, then?

Cha.For a purpose I divine.

These three were faithful, then?

D'O.They told it me:And I—

D'O.They told it me:

And I—

Cha.Most faithful—

D'O.Tell it you—with thisMoreover of my own: if, an hour hence,You have not interposed, the Count will beO' the road to France for succor.

D'O.Tell it you—with this

Moreover of my own: if, an hour hence,

You have not interposed, the Count will be

O' the road to France for succor.

Cha.Very good!You do your duty now to me your monarchFully, I warrant?—have, that is, your projectFor saving both of us disgrace, no doubt?

Cha.Very good!

You do your duty now to me your monarch

Fully, I warrant?—have, that is, your project

For saving both of us disgrace, no doubt?

D'O.I give my counsel,—and the only one.A month since, I besought you to employRestraints which had prevented many a pang:But now the harsher course must be pursued.These papers, made for the emergency,Will pain you to subscribe: this is a listOf those suspected merely—men to watch;This—of the few of the Count's very householdYou must, however reluctantly, arrest;While here's a method of remonstrance—sureNot stronger than the case demands—to takeWith the Count's self.

D'O.I give my counsel,—and the only one.

A month since, I besought you to employ

Restraints which had prevented many a pang:

But now the harsher course must be pursued.

These papers, made for the emergency,

Will pain you to subscribe: this is a list

Of those suspected merely—men to watch;

This—of the few of the Count's very household

You must, however reluctantly, arrest;

While here's a method of remonstrance—sure

Not stronger than the case demands—to take

With the Count's self.

Cha.Deliver those three papers.

Pol.[WhileCharlesinspects them—toD'Ormea.]Your measures are not over-harsh, sir: FranceWill hardly be deterred from her intentsBy these.

Pol.[WhileCharlesinspects them—toD'Ormea.]

Your measures are not over-harsh, sir: France

Will hardly be deterred from her intents

By these.

D'O.If who proposes might dispose,I could soon satisfy you. Even these,Hear what he'll say at my presenting!

D'O.If who proposes might dispose,

I could soon satisfy you. Even these,

Hear what he'll say at my presenting!

Cha.[who has signed them]. There!About the warrants! You've my signature.What turns you pale? I do my duty by youIn acting boldly thus on your advice.

Cha.[who has signed them]. There!

About the warrants! You've my signature.

What turns you pale? I do my duty by you

In acting boldly thus on your advice.

D'O.[Reading them separately.]Arrest the people I suspected merely?

Cha.Did you suspect them?

D'O.Doubtless: but—but—sir,This Forquieri's governor of Turin,And Rivarol and he have influence overHalf of the capital! Rabella, too?Why, sir—

D'O.Doubtless: but—but—sir,

This Forquieri's governor of Turin,

And Rivarol and he have influence over

Half of the capital! Rabella, too?

Why, sir—

Cha.Oh, leave the fear to me!

D'O.[Still reading.]You bid meIncarcerate the people on this list?Sir—

D'O.[Still reading.]You bid me

Incarcerate the people on this list?

Sir—

Cha.But you never bade arrest those men,So close related to my father too,On trifling grounds?

Cha.But you never bade arrest those men,

So close related to my father too,

On trifling grounds?

D'O.Oh, as for that, St. George,President of Chambery's senators,Is hatching treason! still—[More troubled.]Sir, Count CumianeIs brother to your father's wife! What 's here?Arrest the wife herself?

D'O.Oh, as for that, St. George,

President of Chambery's senators,

Is hatching treason! still—

[More troubled.]Sir, Count Cumiane

Is brother to your father's wife! What 's here?

Arrest the wife herself?

Cha.You seem to thinkA venial crime this plot against me. Well?

Cha.You seem to think

A venial crime this plot against me. Well?

D'O.[who has read the last paper.]Wherefore am I thus ruined? Why not takeMy life at once? This poor formalityIs, let me say, unworthy you! Prevent itYou, madam! I have served you, am preparedFor all disgraces: only, let disgraceBe plain, be proper—proper for the worldTo pass its judgment on 'twixt you and me!Take back your warrant, I will none of it!

D'O.[who has read the last paper.]Wherefore am I thus ruined? Why not take

My life at once? This poor formality

Is, let me say, unworthy you! Prevent it

You, madam! I have served you, am prepared

For all disgraces: only, let disgrace

Be plain, be proper—proper for the world

To pass its judgment on 'twixt you and me!

Take back your warrant, I will none of it!

Cha.Here is a man to talk of fickleness!He stakes his life upon my father's falsehood;I bid him ...

Cha.Here is a man to talk of fickleness!

He stakes his life upon my father's falsehood;

I bid him ...

D'O.Not you! Were he trebly false,You do not bid me ...

D'O.Not you! Were he trebly false,

You do not bid me ...

Cha.Is 't not written there?I thought so: give—I 'll set it right.

Cha.Is 't not written there?

I thought so: give—I 'll set it right.

D'O.Is it there?Oh yes, and plain—arrest him now—drag hereYour father! And were all six times as plain,Do you suppose I trust it?

D'O.Is it there?

Oh yes, and plain—arrest him now—drag here

Your father! And were all six times as plain,

Do you suppose I trust it?

Cha.Just one word!You bring him, taken in the act of flight,Or else your life is forfeit.

Cha.Just one word!

You bring him, taken in the act of flight,

Or else your life is forfeit.

D'O.Ay, to TurinI bring him, and to-morrow?

D'O.Ay, to Turin

I bring him, and to-morrow?

Cha.Here and now!The whole thing is a lie, a hateful lie,As I believed and as my father said.I knew it from the first, but was compelledTo circumvent you; and the great D'Ormea,That baffled Alberoni and tricked Coscia,The miserable sower of such discord'Twixt sire and son, is in the toils at last.Oh I see! you arrive—this plan of yours,Weak as it is, torments sufficientlyA sick old peevish man—wrings hasty speech,An ill-considered threat from him; that's noted;Then out you ferret papers, his amusementIn lonely hours of lassitude—examineThe day-by-day report of your paid spies—And back you come: all was not ripe, you find,And, as you hope, may keep from ripening yet,But you were in bare time! Only, 'twere bestI never saw my father—these old menAre potent in excuses: and meanwhile,D'Ormea's the man I cannot do without!

Cha.Here and now!

The whole thing is a lie, a hateful lie,

As I believed and as my father said.

I knew it from the first, but was compelled

To circumvent you; and the great D'Ormea,

That baffled Alberoni and tricked Coscia,

The miserable sower of such discord

'Twixt sire and son, is in the toils at last.

Oh I see! you arrive—this plan of yours,

Weak as it is, torments sufficiently

A sick old peevish man—wrings hasty speech,

An ill-considered threat from him; that's noted;

Then out you ferret papers, his amusement

In lonely hours of lassitude—examine

The day-by-day report of your paid spies—

And back you come: all was not ripe, you find,

And, as you hope, may keep from ripening yet,

But you were in bare time! Only, 'twere best

I never saw my father—these old men

Are potent in excuses: and meanwhile,

D'Ormea's the man I cannot do without!

Pol.Charles—

Cha.Ah, no question! You against me too!You 'd have me eat and drink and sleep, live, die,With this lie coiled about me, choking me!No, no, D'Ormea! You venture life, you say,Upon my father's perfidy: and IHave, on the whole, no right to disregardThe chains of testimony you thus windAbout me; though I do—do from my soulDiscredit them: still I must authorizeThese measures, and I will. Perugia![ManyOfficersenter.]Count—You and Solar, with all the force you have,Stand at the Marquis' orders: what he bids,Implicitly perform! You are to bringA traitor here; the man that 's likest oneAt present, fronts me; you are at his beckFor a full hour! he undertakes to showA fouler than himself,—but, failing that,Return with him, and, as my father lives,He dies this night! The clemency you blameSo oft, shall be revoked—rights exercised,Too long abjured.[To D'O.]Now, sir, about the work!To save your king and country! Take the warrant!

Cha.Ah, no question! You against me too!

You 'd have me eat and drink and sleep, live, die,

With this lie coiled about me, choking me!

No, no, D'Ormea! You venture life, you say,

Upon my father's perfidy: and I

Have, on the whole, no right to disregard

The chains of testimony you thus wind

About me; though I do—do from my soul

Discredit them: still I must authorize

These measures, and I will. Perugia!

[ManyOfficersenter.]Count—

You and Solar, with all the force you have,

Stand at the Marquis' orders: what he bids,

Implicitly perform! You are to bring

A traitor here; the man that 's likest one

At present, fronts me; you are at his beck

For a full hour! he undertakes to show

A fouler than himself,—but, failing that,

Return with him, and, as my father lives,

He dies this night! The clemency you blame

So oft, shall be revoked—rights exercised,

Too long abjured.

[To D'O.]Now, sir, about the work!

To save your king and country! Take the warrant!

D'O.You hear the sovereign's mandate, Count Perugia?Obey me! As your diligence, expectReward! All follow to Montcaglier![D'Ormeagoes.

D'O.You hear the sovereign's mandate, Count Perugia?

Obey me! As your diligence, expect

Reward! All follow to Montcaglier!

[D'Ormeagoes.

Cha.[In great anguish.]D'Ormea!He goes, lit up with that appalling smile![ToPolyxenaafter a pause.At least you understand all this?

Cha.[In great anguish.]D'Ormea!

He goes, lit up with that appalling smile!

[ToPolyxenaafter a pause.

At least you understand all this?

Pol.These meansOf our defence—these measures of precaution?

Pol.These means

Of our defence—these measures of precaution?

Cha.It must be the best way: I should have elseWithered beneath his scorn.

Cha.It must be the best way: I should have else

Withered beneath his scorn.

Pol.What would you say?

Cha.Why, do you think I mean to keep the crown, Polyxena?

Pol.You then believe the storyIn spite of all—that Victor comes?

Pol.You then believe the story

In spite of all—that Victor comes?

Cha.Believe it?I know that he is coming—feel the strengthThat has upheld me leave me at his coming!'T was mine, and now he takes his own again.Some kinds of strength are well enough to have;But who 's to have that strength? Let my crown go!I meant to keep it; but I cannot—cannot!Only, he shall not taunt me—he, the first ...See if he would not be the first to taunt meWith having left his kingdom at a word,With letting it be conquered without stroke,With ... no—no—'t is no worse than when he left!I 've just to bid him take it, and, that over,We 'll fly away—fly, for I loathe this Turin,This Rivoli, all titles loathe, all state.We 'd best go to your country—unless GodSend I die now!

Cha.Believe it?

I know that he is coming—feel the strength

That has upheld me leave me at his coming!

'T was mine, and now he takes his own again.

Some kinds of strength are well enough to have;

But who 's to have that strength? Let my crown go!

I meant to keep it; but I cannot—cannot!

Only, he shall not taunt me—he, the first ...

See if he would not be the first to taunt me

With having left his kingdom at a word,

With letting it be conquered without stroke,

With ... no—no—'t is no worse than when he left!

I 've just to bid him take it, and, that over,

We 'll fly away—fly, for I loathe this Turin,

This Rivoli, all titles loathe, all state.

We 'd best go to your country—unless God

Send I die now!

Pol.Charles, hear me!

Cha.And againShall you be my Polyxena—you 'll take meOut of this woe! Yes, do speak, and keep speaking!I would not let you speak just now, for fearYou 'd counsel me against him: but talk, now,As we two used to talk in blessed times:Bid me endure all his caprices; take meFrom this mad post above him!

Cha.And again

Shall you be my Polyxena—you 'll take me

Out of this woe! Yes, do speak, and keep speaking!

I would not let you speak just now, for fear

You 'd counsel me against him: but talk, now,

As we two used to talk in blessed times:

Bid me endure all his caprices; take me

From this mad post above him!

Pol.I believeWe are undone, but from a different cause.All your resources, down to the least guard,Are at D'Ormea's beck. What if, the while,He act in concert with your father? WeIndeed were lost. This lonely Rivoli—Where find a better place for them?

Pol.I believe

We are undone, but from a different cause.

All your resources, down to the least guard,

Are at D'Ormea's beck. What if, the while,

He act in concert with your father? We

Indeed were lost. This lonely Rivoli—

Where find a better place for them?

Cha.[Pacing the room.]And whyDoes Victor come? To undo all that 's done,Restore the past, prevent the future! SeatHis mistress in your seat, and place in mine... Oh, my own people, whom will you find there,To ask of, to consult with, to care for,To hold up with your hands? Whom? One that's false—False—from the head's crown to the foot's sole, false!The best is, that I knew it in my heartFrom the beginning, and expected this,And hated you, Polyxena, becauseYou saw through him, though I too saw through him,Saw that he meant this while he crowned me, whileHe prayed for me,—nay, while he kissed my brow,I saw—

Cha.[Pacing the room.]And why

Does Victor come? To undo all that 's done,

Restore the past, prevent the future! Seat

His mistress in your seat, and place in mine

... Oh, my own people, whom will you find there,

To ask of, to consult with, to care for,

To hold up with your hands? Whom? One that's false—

False—from the head's crown to the foot's sole, false!

The best is, that I knew it in my heart

From the beginning, and expected this,

And hated you, Polyxena, because

You saw through him, though I too saw through him,

Saw that he meant this while he crowned me, while

He prayed for me,—nay, while he kissed my brow,

I saw—

Pol.But if your measures take effect,D'Ormea true to you?

Pol.But if your measures take effect,

D'Ormea true to you?

Cha.Then worst of all!I shall have loosed that callous wretch on him!Well may the woman taunt him with his child—I, eating here his bread, clothed in his clothes,Seated upon his seat, let slip D'OrmeaTo outrage him! We talk—perchance he tearsMy father from his bed; the old hands feelFor one who is not, but who should be there:He finds D'Ormea! D'Ormea too finds him!The crowded chamber when the lights go out—Closed doors—the horrid scuffle in the dark—The accursed prompting of the minute! My guards!To horse—and after, with me—and prevent!

Cha.Then worst of all!

I shall have loosed that callous wretch on him!

Well may the woman taunt him with his child—

I, eating here his bread, clothed in his clothes,

Seated upon his seat, let slip D'Ormea

To outrage him! We talk—perchance he tears

My father from his bed; the old hands feel

For one who is not, but who should be there:

He finds D'Ormea! D'Ormea too finds him!

The crowded chamber when the lights go out—

Closed doors—the horrid scuffle in the dark—

The accursed prompting of the minute! My guards!

To horse—and after, with me—and prevent!

Pol.[Seizing his hand.]King Charles! Pause here upon this strip of timeAllotted you out of eternity!Crowns are from God: you in his name hold yours.Your life 's no least thing, were it fit your lifeShould be abjured along with rule; but now,Keep both! Your duty is to live and rule—You, who would vulgarly look fine enoughIn the world's eye, deserting your soul's charge,—Ay, you would have men's praise, this RivoliWould be illumined! While, as 't is, no doubt,Something of stain will ever rest on you;No one will rightly know why you refusedTo abdicate; they 'll talk of deeds you couldHave done, no doubt,—nor do I much expectFuture achievement will blot out the past,Envelope it in haze—nor shall we twoLive happy any more. 'T will be, I feel,Only in moments that the duty 's seenAs palpably as now: the months, the yearsOf painful indistinctness are to come,While daily must we tread these palace-roomsPregnant with memories of the past: your eyeMay turn to mine and find no comfort there,Through fancies that beset me, as yourself,Of other courses, with far other issues,We might have taken this great night: such bear,As I will bear! What matters happiness?Duty! There's man's one moment: this is yours!

Pol.[Seizing his hand.]King Charles! Pause here upon this strip of time

Allotted you out of eternity!

Crowns are from God: you in his name hold yours.

Your life 's no least thing, were it fit your life

Should be abjured along with rule; but now,

Keep both! Your duty is to live and rule—

You, who would vulgarly look fine enough

In the world's eye, deserting your soul's charge,—

Ay, you would have men's praise, this Rivoli

Would be illumined! While, as 't is, no doubt,

Something of stain will ever rest on you;

No one will rightly know why you refused

To abdicate; they 'll talk of deeds you could

Have done, no doubt,—nor do I much expect

Future achievement will blot out the past,

Envelope it in haze—nor shall we two

Live happy any more. 'T will be, I feel,

Only in moments that the duty 's seen

As palpably as now: the months, the years

Of painful indistinctness are to come,

While daily must we tread these palace-rooms

Pregnant with memories of the past: your eye

May turn to mine and find no comfort there,

Through fancies that beset me, as yourself,

Of other courses, with far other issues,

We might have taken this great night: such bear,

As I will bear! What matters happiness?

Duty! There's man's one moment: this is yours!

[Putting the crown on his head, and the sceptre in his hand, she places him on his seat: a long pause and silence.

(EnterD'OrmeaandVictor,withGuards.)

Vic.At last I speak; but once—that once, to you!'T is you I ask, not these your varletry,Who 's King of us?

Vic.At last I speak; but once—that once, to you!

'T is you I ask, not these your varletry,

Who 's King of us?

Cha.[From his seat.]Count Tende ...

Vic.What your spiesAssert I ponder in my soul, I say—Here to your face, amid your guards! I chooseTo take again the crown whose shadow I gave—For still its potency surrounds the weakWhite locks their felon hands have discomposed.Or I 'll not ask who 's King, but simply, whoWithholds the crown I claim? Deliver it!I have no friend in the wide world: nor FranceNor England cares for me: you see the sumOf what I can avail. Deliver it!

Vic.What your spies

Assert I ponder in my soul, I say—

Here to your face, amid your guards! I choose

To take again the crown whose shadow I gave—

For still its potency surrounds the weak

White locks their felon hands have discomposed.

Or I 'll not ask who 's King, but simply, who

Withholds the crown I claim? Deliver it!

I have no friend in the wide world: nor France

Nor England cares for me: you see the sum

Of what I can avail. Deliver it!

Cha.Take it, my father!And now say in turn,Was it done well, my father—sure not well,To try me thus! I might have seen much causeFor keeping it—too easily seen cause!But, from that moment, e'en more woefullyMy life had pined away, than pine it will.Already you have much to answer for.My life to pine is nothing,—her sunk eyesWere happy once! No doubt, my people thinkI am their King still ... but I cannot strive!Take it!

Cha.Take it, my father!

And now say in turn,

Was it done well, my father—sure not well,

To try me thus! I might have seen much cause

For keeping it—too easily seen cause!

But, from that moment, e'en more woefully

My life had pined away, than pine it will.

Already you have much to answer for.

My life to pine is nothing,—her sunk eyes

Were happy once! No doubt, my people think

I am their King still ... but I cannot strive!

Take it!

Vic.[One hand on the crownCharlesoffers,the other on his neck.]So few years give it quietly,My son! It will drop from me. See you not?A crown 's unlike a sword to give away—That, let a strong hand to a weak hand give!But crowns should slip from palsied brows to headsYoung as this head: yet mine is weak enough,E'en weaker than I knew. I seek for phrasesTo vindicate my right. 'T is of a piece!All is alike gone by with me—who beatOnce D'Orleans in his lines—his very lines!To have been Eugene's comrade, Louis's rival,And now ...

Vic.[One hand on the crownCharlesoffers,the other on his neck.]So few years give it quietly,

My son! It will drop from me. See you not?

A crown 's unlike a sword to give away—

That, let a strong hand to a weak hand give!

But crowns should slip from palsied brows to heads

Young as this head: yet mine is weak enough,

E'en weaker than I knew. I seek for phrases

To vindicate my right. 'T is of a piece!

All is alike gone by with me—who beat

Once D'Orleans in his lines—his very lines!

To have been Eugene's comrade, Louis's rival,

And now ...

Cha.[Putting the crown on him, to the rest.]The King speaks, yet none kneels, I think!

Cha.[Putting the crown on him, to the rest.]

The King speaks, yet none kneels, I think!

Vic.I am then King! As I became a KingDespite the nations, kept myself a King,So I die King, with Kingship dying tooAround me! I have lasted Europe's time!What wants my story of completion? WhereMust needs the damning break show? Who mistrustsMy children here—tell they of any break'Twixt my day's sunrise and its fiery fall?And who were by me when I died but they?D'Ormea there!

Vic.I am then King! As I became a King

Despite the nations, kept myself a King,

So I die King, with Kingship dying too

Around me! I have lasted Europe's time!

What wants my story of completion? Where

Must needs the damning break show? Who mistrusts

My children here—tell they of any break

'Twixt my day's sunrise and its fiery fall?

And who were by me when I died but they?

D'Ormea there!

Cha.What means he?

Vic.Ever there!Charles—how to save your story! Mine must go!Say—say that you refused the crown to me!Charles, yours shall be my story! You immuredMe, say, at Rivoli. A single yearI spend without a sight of you, then die.That will serve every purpose—tell that taleThe world!

Vic.Ever there!

Charles—how to save your story! Mine must go!

Say—say that you refused the crown to me!

Charles, yours shall be my story! You immured

Me, say, at Rivoli. A single year

I spend without a sight of you, then die.

That will serve every purpose—tell that tale

The world!

Cha.Mistrust me? Help!

Vic.Past help, past reach!'T is in the heart—you cannot reach the heart:This broke mine, that I did believe, you, Charles,Would have denied me and disgraced me.

Vic.Past help, past reach!

'T is in the heart—you cannot reach the heart:

This broke mine, that I did believe, you, Charles,

Would have denied me and disgraced me.

Pol.CharlesHas never ceased to be your subject, sir!He reigned at first through setting up yourselfAs pattern: if he e'er seemed harsh to you,'T was from a too intense appreciationOf your own character: he acted you—Ne'er for an instant did I think it real,Nor look for any other than this end.I hold him worlds the worse on that account;But so it was.

Pol.Charles

Has never ceased to be your subject, sir!

He reigned at first through setting up yourself

As pattern: if he e'er seemed harsh to you,

'T was from a too intense appreciation

Of your own character: he acted you—

Ne'er for an instant did I think it real,

Nor look for any other than this end.

I hold him worlds the worse on that account;

But so it was.

Cha.[ToPol.]I love you now indeed![ToVic.]You never knew me!

Cha.[ToPol.]I love you now indeed!

[ToVic.]You never knew me!

Vic.Hardly till this moment,When I seem learning many other thingsBecause the time for using them is past.If 't were to do again! That's idly wished.Truthfulness might prove policy as goodAs guile. Is this my daughter's forehead? Yes:I 've made it fitter now to be a queen'sThan formerly: I 've ploughed the deep lines thereWhich keep too well a crown from slipping off.No matter. Guile has made me King again.Louis—'t was in King Victor's time:—long since,When Louis reigned and, also, Victor reigned.How the world talks already of us two!God of eclipse and each discolored star,Why do I linger then?Ha! Where lurks he?D'Ormea! Nearer to your King! Now stand![Collecting his strength asD'Ormeaapproaches.You lied, D'Ormea! I do not repent.[Dies.

Vic.Hardly till this moment,

When I seem learning many other things

Because the time for using them is past.

If 't were to do again! That's idly wished.

Truthfulness might prove policy as good

As guile. Is this my daughter's forehead? Yes:

I 've made it fitter now to be a queen's

Than formerly: I 've ploughed the deep lines there

Which keep too well a crown from slipping off.

No matter. Guile has made me King again.

Louis—'t was in King Victor's time:—long since,

When Louis reigned and, also, Victor reigned.

How the world talks already of us two!

God of eclipse and each discolored star,

Why do I linger then?

Ha! Where lurks he?

D'Ormea! Nearer to your King! Now stand!

[Collecting his strength asD'Ormeaapproaches.

You lied, D'Ormea! I do not repent.[Dies.

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