ACT THE FOURTH.

Theod.But must we bear to be thus tamely coop'dBy such insulting, petty despotism?I look to my unguarded side in vain;Had I a sword——

Theod.But must we bear to be thus tamely coop'd

By such insulting, petty despotism?

I look to my unguarded side in vain;

Had I a sword——

Aust.Think not of vengeance now;A mightier arm than thine prepares it for him.Pass but a little space, we shall behold himThe object of our pity, not our anger.Yes, he must suffer; my rapt soul foresees it:Empires shall sink; the pond'rous globe of earthCrumble to dust; the sun and stars be quench'd;But O, Eternal Father! of thy will,To the last letter, all shall be accomplish'd.

Aust.Think not of vengeance now;

A mightier arm than thine prepares it for him.

Pass but a little space, we shall behold him

The object of our pity, not our anger.

Yes, he must suffer; my rapt soul foresees it:

Empires shall sink; the pond'rous globe of earth

Crumble to dust; the sun and stars be quench'd;

But O, Eternal Father! of thy will,

To the last letter, all shall be accomplish'd.

Theod.So let it be! but, if his pride must fall,Ye saints, who watch o'er loveliness and virtue,Confound not with his crimes, her innocence!Make him alone the victim; but with blessingsBright, and distinguish'd, crown his beauteous daughter,The charming Adelaide, my heart's first passion!

Theod.So let it be! but, if his pride must fall,

Ye saints, who watch o'er loveliness and virtue,

Confound not with his crimes, her innocence!

Make him alone the victim; but with blessings

Bright, and distinguish'd, crown his beauteous daughter,

The charming Adelaide, my heart's first passion!

Aust.Oh most disastrous love! My son, my son,Thy words are poniards here. Alas! I thought(So thought the tyrant, and for that he rag'd)The vows exchang'd 'tween Isabel and thee,Thwarted the issue of his wild designs.

Aust.Oh most disastrous love! My son, my son,

Thy words are poniards here. Alas! I thought

(So thought the tyrant, and for that he rag'd)

The vows exchang'd 'tween Isabel and thee,

Thwarted the issue of his wild designs.

Theod.I knew not Isabel, beyond a momentPass'd in surprise and haste.

Theod.I knew not Isabel, beyond a moment

Pass'd in surprise and haste.

Aust.O, had malignant fortune toil'd to blast him,Thus had she snar'd him in this fatal passion!—And does young Adelaide return thy love?

Aust.O, had malignant fortune toil'd to blast him,

Thus had she snar'd him in this fatal passion!—

And does young Adelaide return thy love?

Theod.Bless'd powers, she does! How can you frown, and hear it!Her generous soul, first touch'd by gratitude,Soon own'd a kinder, warmer sympathy.Soft as the fanning of a turtle's plumes,The sweet confession met my enraptur'd ears.

Theod.Bless'd powers, she does! How can you frown, and hear it!

Her generous soul, first touch'd by gratitude,

Soon own'd a kinder, warmer sympathy.

Soft as the fanning of a turtle's plumes,

The sweet confession met my enraptur'd ears.

Aust.What can I do?—Come near, my Theodore;Dost thou believe my affection?

Aust.What can I do?—Come near, my Theodore;

Dost thou believe my affection?

Theod.Can I doubt it?

Aust.Think what my bosom suffers, when I tell thee,It must not, cannot be.

Aust.Think what my bosom suffers, when I tell thee,

It must not, cannot be.

Theod.My love for Adelaide!

Aust.Deem it delicious poison; dash it from thee:Thy bane is in the cup.

Aust.Deem it delicious poison; dash it from thee:

Thy bane is in the cup.

Theod.O bid me ratherTear out my throbbing heart; I'd think it mercy,To this unjust, this cruel interdiction.That proud, unfeeling Narbonne, from his lipsWell might such words have fallen;—but thou, my father——

Theod.O bid me rather

Tear out my throbbing heart; I'd think it mercy,

To this unjust, this cruel interdiction.

That proud, unfeeling Narbonne, from his lips

Well might such words have fallen;—but thou, my father——

Aust.And fond, as ever own'd that tender name.Not I, my son, not I prevent this union,To me 'tis bitterness to cross thy wish,But nature, fate, and Heaven, all, all forbid it.We must withdraw, where Heaven alone can hear us:Then must thou stretch thy soul's best faculties;Call every manly principle to steel thee;And, to confirm thy name, secure thy honour,Make one great sacrifice of love to justice.

Aust.And fond, as ever own'd that tender name.

Not I, my son, not I prevent this union,

To me 'tis bitterness to cross thy wish,

But nature, fate, and Heaven, all, all forbid it.

We must withdraw, where Heaven alone can hear us:

Then must thou stretch thy soul's best faculties;

Call every manly principle to steel thee;

And, to confirm thy name, secure thy honour,

Make one great sacrifice of love to justice.

[Exeunt.

A Chamber.

Adelaidediscovered.

Adel.Woe treads on woe.—Thy life, my Theodore,Thy threaten'd life, snatch'd from the impending stroke,Just gave a moment's respite to my heart;And now a mother's grief, with pangs more keen,Wakes every throbbing sense, and quite o'erwhelms me.Her soul wrapp'd up in his, to talk thus to her!Divorce her, leave her, wed with Isabel,And call on Heaven, to sanctify the outrage!How could my father's bosom meditateWhat savage tongues would falter even to speak?But see, he comes——

Adel.Woe treads on woe.—Thy life, my Theodore,

Thy threaten'd life, snatch'd from the impending stroke,

Just gave a moment's respite to my heart;

And now a mother's grief, with pangs more keen,

Wakes every throbbing sense, and quite o'erwhelms me.

Her soul wrapp'd up in his, to talk thus to her!

Divorce her, leave her, wed with Isabel,

And call on Heaven, to sanctify the outrage!

How could my father's bosom meditate

What savage tongues would falter even to speak?

But see, he comes——

EnterAustinandJaqueline.

O let me bend to thank you;In this extreme distress, from you alone(For my poor heart is vain) can she hope comfort.

O let me bend to thank you;

In this extreme distress, from you alone

(For my poor heart is vain) can she hope comfort.

Aust.How heard she the ill tidings? I had hopesHis cooler reason would subdue the thought;And Heaven, in pity to her gentle virtues,Might spare her knowing, how he meant to wrong them.

Aust.How heard she the ill tidings? I had hopes

His cooler reason would subdue the thought;

And Heaven, in pity to her gentle virtues,

Might spare her knowing, how he meant to wrong them.

Jaq.The rumour of the castle reach'd her first;But his own lips confirm'd the barbarous secret.Sternly, but now, he enter'd her apartment,And, stamping, frown'd her women from her presence!After a little while they had pass'd together,His visage flush'd with rage and mingled shame,He burst into the chamber where we waited,Bade us return, and give our lady aid;Then, covering his face with both his hands,Went forth like one half-craz'd.

Jaq.The rumour of the castle reach'd her first;

But his own lips confirm'd the barbarous secret.

Sternly, but now, he enter'd her apartment,

And, stamping, frown'd her women from her presence!

After a little while they had pass'd together,

His visage flush'd with rage and mingled shame,

He burst into the chamber where we waited,

Bade us return, and give our lady aid;

Then, covering his face with both his hands,

Went forth like one half-craz'd.

Adel.Oh good, kind father!There is a charm in holy eloquence(If words can medicine a pang like this)Perhaps may sooth her. Sighs, and trickling tears,Are all my love can give. As I kneel by her,She gazes on me, clasps me to her bosom;Cries out, My child! my child! then, rising quick,Severely lifts her streaming eyes to heaven;Laughs wildly, and half sounds my father's name;Till, quite o'erpower'd, she sinks from my embrace,While, like the grasp of death, convulsions shake her.

Adel.Oh good, kind father!

There is a charm in holy eloquence

(If words can medicine a pang like this)

Perhaps may sooth her. Sighs, and trickling tears,

Are all my love can give. As I kneel by her,

She gazes on me, clasps me to her bosom;

Cries out, My child! my child! then, rising quick,

Severely lifts her streaming eyes to heaven;

Laughs wildly, and half sounds my father's name;

Till, quite o'erpower'd, she sinks from my embrace,

While, like the grasp of death, convulsions shake her.

Aust.Remorseless man! this wound would reach her heart,And when she falls, his last, best prop, falls with her,And see, the beauteous mourner moves this way:Time has but little injur'd that fair fabric;But cruelty's hard stroke, more fell than time,Works at the base, and shakes it to the centre.

Aust.Remorseless man! this wound would reach her heart,

And when she falls, his last, best prop, falls with her,

And see, the beauteous mourner moves this way:

Time has but little injur'd that fair fabric;

But cruelty's hard stroke, more fell than time,

Works at the base, and shakes it to the centre.

Enter theCountess.

Countess.Will then, these dreadful sounds ne'er leave my ears?Our marriage was accurs'd; too long we have liv'd"In bonds forbid; think me no more thy husband;The avenging bolt, for that incestuous name,Falls on my house, and spreads the ruin wide."These were his words.

Countess.Will then, these dreadful sounds ne'er leave my ears?

Our marriage was accurs'd; too long we have liv'd

"In bonds forbid; think me no more thy husband;

The avenging bolt, for that incestuous name,

Falls on my house, and spreads the ruin wide."

These were his words.

Adel.Oh, ponder them no more!Lo! where the blessed minister of peace,He, whose mild counsels wont to charm your care,Is kindly come to cheer your drooping soul;And see, the good man weeps.

Adel.Oh, ponder them no more!

Lo! where the blessed minister of peace,

He, whose mild counsels wont to charm your care,

Is kindly come to cheer your drooping soul;

And see, the good man weeps.

Countess.What! weep for me?

Aust.Ay, tears of blood from my heart's inmost core,And count them drops of water from my eyes,Could they but wash out from your memoryThe deep affliction, you now labour with.

Aust.Ay, tears of blood from my heart's inmost core,

And count them drops of water from my eyes,

Could they but wash out from your memory

The deep affliction, you now labour with.

Countess.Then still there is some pity left in man:I judg'd you all by him, and so I wrong'd you.I would have told my story to the sea,When it roar'd wildest; bid the lioness,Robb'd of her young, look with compassion on me;Rather than hoped in any form of man,To find one drop of human gentleness.

Countess.Then still there is some pity left in man:

I judg'd you all by him, and so I wrong'd you.

I would have told my story to the sea,

When it roar'd wildest; bid the lioness,

Robb'd of her young, look with compassion on me;

Rather than hoped in any form of man,

To find one drop of human gentleness.

Aust.Most honour'd lady!—

Countess.Pray you, come not near me.I am contagion all! some wicked sin,Prodigious, unrepented sin, has stain'd me.Father, 'twould blast thee but to hear the crimes,This woman, who was once the wife of Raymond,This curs'd forsaken woman here, has acted.

Countess.Pray you, come not near me.

I am contagion all! some wicked sin,

Prodigious, unrepented sin, has stain'd me.

Father, 'twould blast thee but to hear the crimes,

This woman, who was once the wife of Raymond,

This curs'd forsaken woman here, has acted.

Aust.What slanderous tongue dare thus profane your virtue?Madam, I know you well; and, by my order,Each day, each hour, of your unspotted life,Might give as fair a lesson to the world,As churchmen's tongues can preach, or saints could practise.

Aust.What slanderous tongue dare thus profane your virtue?

Madam, I know you well; and, by my order,

Each day, each hour, of your unspotted life,

Might give as fair a lesson to the world,

As churchmen's tongues can preach, or saints could practise.

Countess.He charges me with all—Thou, poor Hortensia!What guilt, prepost'rous guilt, is thine to answer!

Countess.He charges me with all—Thou, poor Hortensia!

What guilt, prepost'rous guilt, is thine to answer!

Adel.In mercy, wound not thus your daughter's soul.

Aust.A villain or a madman might say this.

Countess.What shall I call him? He, who was my husband;My child, thy father;—He'll disclaim thee too.But let him cast off all the ties of nature,Abandon us to grief and misery—Still will I wander with thee o'er the world:I will not wish my reason may forsake me,Nor sweet oblivious dulness steep my sense,While thy soft age may want a mother's care,A mother's tenderness, to wake and guard thee.

Countess.What shall I call him? He, who was my husband;

My child, thy father;—He'll disclaim thee too.

But let him cast off all the ties of nature,

Abandon us to grief and misery—

Still will I wander with thee o'er the world:

I will not wish my reason may forsake me,

Nor sweet oblivious dulness steep my sense,

While thy soft age may want a mother's care,

A mother's tenderness, to wake and guard thee.

Adel.And, if the love of your dear Adelaide,Her reverence, duty, endless gratitudeFor all your angel goodness, now can move you,Oh, for my sake (lest quite you break my heart)Wear but a little outside show of comfort;A while pretend it, though you feel it not,And I will bless you for deceiving me.

Adel.And, if the love of your dear Adelaide,

Her reverence, duty, endless gratitude

For all your angel goodness, now can move you,

Oh, for my sake (lest quite you break my heart)

Wear but a little outside show of comfort;

A while pretend it, though you feel it not,

And I will bless you for deceiving me.

Countess.I know 'tis weakness—folly, to be mov'd thus;And these, I hope, are my last tears for him.Alas, I little knew, deluded wretch!His riotous fancy glow'd with Isabel;That not a thought of me possess'd his mind,But coldness and aversion; how to shun me,And turn me forth a friendless wanderer.

Countess.I know 'tis weakness—folly, to be mov'd thus;

And these, I hope, are my last tears for him.

Alas, I little knew, deluded wretch!

His riotous fancy glow'd with Isabel;

That not a thought of me possess'd his mind,

But coldness and aversion; how to shun me,

And turn me forth a friendless wanderer.

Aust.Lady, for your peace,Think, conscience is the deepest source of anguish:A bosom, free like yours, has life's best sunshine;'Tis the warm blaze in the poor herdsman's hut;That, when the storm howls o'er his humble thatch,Brightens his clay-built walls, and cheers his soul.

Aust.Lady, for your peace,

Think, conscience is the deepest source of anguish:

A bosom, free like yours, has life's best sunshine;

'Tis the warm blaze in the poor herdsman's hut;

That, when the storm howls o'er his humble thatch,

Brightens his clay-built walls, and cheers his soul.

Countess.O father, reason is for moderate sorrows;For wounds which time has balm'd; but mine are fresh,All bleeding fresh, and pain beyond my patience.Ungrateful! cruel! how have I deserv'd it?Thou tough, tough heart, break for my ease at once!

Countess.O father, reason is for moderate sorrows;

For wounds which time has balm'd; but mine are fresh,

All bleeding fresh, and pain beyond my patience.

Ungrateful! cruel! how have I deserv'd it?

Thou tough, tough heart, break for my ease at once!

Aust.I scarce, methinks, can weigh him with himself;Vexations strange, have fallen on him of late!And his distemper'd fancy drives him onTo rash designs, where disappointment mads him.

Aust.I scarce, methinks, can weigh him with himself;

Vexations strange, have fallen on him of late!

And his distemper'd fancy drives him on

To rash designs, where disappointment mads him.

Countess.Ah no! his wit is settled, and most subtle;Pride and wild blood are his distemper, father.But here I bid farewell to grief and fondness:Let him go kneel, and sigh to Isabel:And may he as obdurate find her heart,As his has been to me.

Countess.Ah no! his wit is settled, and most subtle;

Pride and wild blood are his distemper, father.

But here I bid farewell to grief and fondness:

Let him go kneel, and sigh to Isabel:

And may he as obdurate find her heart,

As his has been to me.

Aust.Why, that's well said;—'Tis better thus, than with consuming sorrowTo feed on your own life. Give anger scope:Time, then, at length, will blunt this killing sense;And peace, he ne'er must know again, be yours.

Aust.Why, that's well said;—

'Tis better thus, than with consuming sorrow

To feed on your own life. Give anger scope:

Time, then, at length, will blunt this killing sense;

And peace, he ne'er must know again, be yours.

Countess.I was a woman, full of tenderness;I am a woman, stung by injuries.Narbonne was once my husband—my protector;He was—what was he not?—He is my tyrant;The unnatural tyrant of a heart, that lov'd him.With cool, deliberate baseness, he forsakes me;With scorn as steadfast shall my soul repay it.

Countess.I was a woman, full of tenderness;

I am a woman, stung by injuries.

Narbonne was once my husband—my protector;

He was—what was he not?—He is my tyrant;

The unnatural tyrant of a heart, that lov'd him.

With cool, deliberate baseness, he forsakes me;

With scorn as steadfast shall my soul repay it.

Aust.You know the imminent danger threatens him,From Godfrey's fearful claim?

Aust.You know the imminent danger threatens him,

From Godfrey's fearful claim?

Countess.Too well I know it;A fearful claim indeed!

Countess.Too well I know it;

A fearful claim indeed!

Aust.To-morrow's sunWill see him at these gates; but trust my faith,No violence shall reach you. The rash count(Lost to himself) by force detains me here.Vain is his force:—our holy sanctuary,Whate'er betides, shall give your virtue shelter;And peace, and piety, alone, approach you.

Aust.To-morrow's sun

Will see him at these gates; but trust my faith,

No violence shall reach you. The rash count

(Lost to himself) by force detains me here.

Vain is his force:—our holy sanctuary,

Whate'er betides, shall give your virtue shelter;

And peace, and piety, alone, approach you.

Countess.Oh, that the friendly bosom of the earthWould close on me for ever!

Countess.Oh, that the friendly bosom of the earth

Would close on me for ever!

Aust.These ill thoughtsMust not be cherish'd. That all righteous Power,Whose hand inflicts, knows to reward our patience:Farewell! command me ever as your servant,And take the poor man's all, my prayers and blessing.

Aust.These ill thoughts

Must not be cherish'd. That all righteous Power,

Whose hand inflicts, knows to reward our patience:

Farewell! command me ever as your servant,

And take the poor man's all, my prayers and blessing.

[ExitAustin.

Adel.Will you not strive to rest? Alas! 'tis long,Since you have slept. I'll lead you to your couch;And gently touch my lute, to wake some strain,May aid your slumbers.

Adel.Will you not strive to rest? Alas! 'tis long,

Since you have slept. I'll lead you to your couch;

And gently touch my lute, to wake some strain,

May aid your slumbers.

Countess.My sweet comforter!I feel not quite forlorn, when thou art near me.

Countess.My sweet comforter!

I feel not quite forlorn, when thou art near me.

Adel.Lean on my arm.

Countess.No, I will in alone.My sense is now unapt for harmony.But go thou to Alphonso's holy shrine;There, with thy innocent hands devoutly rais'd,Implore his sainted spirit, to receiveThy humble supplications; and to avertFrom thy dear head, the still impending wrath,For one black deed, that threatens all thy race.

Countess.No, I will in alone.

My sense is now unapt for harmony.

But go thou to Alphonso's holy shrine;

There, with thy innocent hands devoutly rais'd,

Implore his sainted spirit, to receive

Thy humble supplications; and to avert

From thy dear head, the still impending wrath,

For one black deed, that threatens all thy race.

[ExitCountess.

Adel.For thee my prayers shall rise, not for myself,And every kindred saint will bend to hear me.But, O my fluttering breast!—'Tis Theodore!How sad, and earnestly, he views that paper!It turns him pale. Beshrew the envious paper!Why should it steal the colour from that cheek,Which danger ne'er could blanch? He sees me not.I'll wait; and should sad thoughts disturb his quiet,If love has power, with love's soft breath dispel them.

Adel.For thee my prayers shall rise, not for myself,

And every kindred saint will bend to hear me.

But, O my fluttering breast!—'Tis Theodore!

How sad, and earnestly, he views that paper!

It turns him pale. Beshrew the envious paper!

Why should it steal the colour from that cheek,

Which danger ne'er could blanch? He sees me not.

I'll wait; and should sad thoughts disturb his quiet,

If love has power, with love's soft breath dispel them.

[ExitAdelaide.

EnterTheodore, with a Paper.

Theod.My importunity at last has conquer'd:Weeping, my father gave, and bade me read it."'Tis there," he cried, "the mystery of thy birth;There, view thy long divorce from Adelaide."Why should I read it? Why with rav'nous hasteGorge down my bane? The worst is yet conceal'd;Then wherefore, eager for my own destruction?Inquire a secret, which, when known, must sink me?My eye starts back from it; my heart stands still;And every pulse, and motion of my blood,With prohibition, strong as sense can utter,Cries out, "Beware!"—But does my sight deceive?Is it not she? Up, up, you black contents:A brighter object meets my ravish'd eyes.Now let the present moment, love, be thine!For ill, come when it may, must come untimely.

Theod.My importunity at last has conquer'd:

Weeping, my father gave, and bade me read it.

"'Tis there," he cried, "the mystery of thy birth;

There, view thy long divorce from Adelaide."

Why should I read it? Why with rav'nous haste

Gorge down my bane? The worst is yet conceal'd;

Then wherefore, eager for my own destruction?

Inquire a secret, which, when known, must sink me?

My eye starts back from it; my heart stands still;

And every pulse, and motion of my blood,

With prohibition, strong as sense can utter,

Cries out, "Beware!"—But does my sight deceive?

Is it not she? Up, up, you black contents:

A brighter object meets my ravish'd eyes.

Now let the present moment, love, be thine!

For ill, come when it may, must come untimely.

EnterAdelaide.

Adel.Am I not here unwish'd for?

Theod.My best angel!Were seas between us, thou art still where I am.I bear thy precious image ever round me,As pious men the relics they adore.Scarce durst I hope to be so blest to see thee,But could not wish a joy beyond thy presence.

Theod.My best angel!

Were seas between us, thou art still where I am.

I bear thy precious image ever round me,

As pious men the relics they adore.

Scarce durst I hope to be so blest to see thee,

But could not wish a joy beyond thy presence.

Adel.O Theodore! what wondrous turns of fortuneHave given thee back to a dear parent's arms?And spite of all the horrors which surround me,And worse, each black eventful moment threatens,My bosom glows with rapture at the thoughtThou wilt at last be bless'd.

Adel.O Theodore! what wondrous turns of fortune

Have given thee back to a dear parent's arms?

And spite of all the horrors which surround me,

And worse, each black eventful moment threatens,

My bosom glows with rapture at the thought

Thou wilt at last be bless'd.

Theod.But one way onlyCan I be bless'd. On thee depends my fate.Lord Raymond, harsh and haughty as he is,And adverse to my father's rigid virtue,When he shall hear our pure, unspotted vows,Will yield thee to my wishes;—but, curs'd stars!How shall I speak it?

Theod.But one way only

Can I be bless'd. On thee depends my fate.

Lord Raymond, harsh and haughty as he is,

And adverse to my father's rigid virtue,

When he shall hear our pure, unspotted vows,

Will yield thee to my wishes;—but, curs'd stars!

How shall I speak it?

Adel.What?

Theod.That holy man,That Clarinsal, whom I am bound to honour,Perversely bids me think of thee no more.

Theod.That holy man,

That Clarinsal, whom I am bound to honour,

Perversely bids me think of thee no more.

Adel.Alas! in what have I offended him?

Theod.Not so; he owns thy virtues, and admires them.But with a solemn earnestness that kills me,He urges some mysterious, dreadful cause,Must sunder us for ever.

Theod.Not so; he owns thy virtues, and admires them.

But with a solemn earnestness that kills me,

He urges some mysterious, dreadful cause,

Must sunder us for ever.

Adel.Oh, then fly me!I am not worth his frown; begone this moment;Leave me to weep my mournful destiny,And find some fairer, happier maid, to bless thee.

Adel.Oh, then fly me!

I am not worth his frown; begone this moment;

Leave me to weep my mournful destiny,

And find some fairer, happier maid, to bless thee.

Theod.Fairer than thee! Oh, heavens! the delicate handOf nature, in her daintiest mood, ne'er fashion'dBeauty so rare. Love's roseate deity,Fresh from his mother's kiss, breath'd o'er thy mouldThat soft, ambrosial hue,—Fairer than thee!'Twere blasphemy in any tongue but thine,So to disparage thy unmatch'd perfections.

Theod.Fairer than thee! Oh, heavens! the delicate hand

Of nature, in her daintiest mood, ne'er fashion'd

Beauty so rare. Love's roseate deity,

Fresh from his mother's kiss, breath'd o'er thy mould

That soft, ambrosial hue,—Fairer than thee!

'Twere blasphemy in any tongue but thine,

So to disparage thy unmatch'd perfections.

Adel.No, Theodore, I dare not hear thee longer;Perhaps, indeed, there is some fatal cause.

Adel.No, Theodore, I dare not hear thee longer;

Perhaps, indeed, there is some fatal cause.

Theod.There is not, cannot be. 'Tis but his pride,Stung by resentment 'gainst thy furious father—

Theod.There is not, cannot be. 'Tis but his pride,

Stung by resentment 'gainst thy furious father—

Adel.Ah no; he is too generous, just, and good,To hate me for the offences of my father.But find the cause. At good Alphonso's tombI go to offer up my orisons;There bring me comfort, and dispel my fears;Or teach me, (oh, hard thought!) to bear our parting.

Adel.Ah no; he is too generous, just, and good,

To hate me for the offences of my father.

But find the cause. At good Alphonso's tomb

I go to offer up my orisons;

There bring me comfort, and dispel my fears;

Or teach me, (oh, hard thought!) to bear our parting.

[ExitAdelaide.

Theod.She's gone, and now, firm fortitude, support me!For here I read my sentence; life or death.

Theod.She's gone, and now, firm fortitude, support me!

For here I read my sentence; life or death.

[Takes out the Paper.

Thou art the grandson of the good Alphonso,And Narbonne's rightful lord.—Ha! is it so?Then has this boist'rous Raymond dar'd insult me,Where I alone should rule:—yet not by thatAm I condemn'd to lose her. Thou damn'd scroll!I fear thou hast worse poison for my eyes.Long were the champions, bound for Palestine,(Thy grandsire then their chief,) by adverse windsDetain'd in Naples; where he saw, and lov'd,And wedded secretly, Vicenza's daughter;For, till the holy warfare should be clos'd,They deem'd it wise to keep the rite conceal'd.The issue of that marriage was thy mother;But the same hour that gave her to the world,For ever clos'd the fair one's eyes who bore her.Foul treason next cut short thy grandsire's thread;Poison'd he fell.—

Thou art the grandson of the good Alphonso,

And Narbonne's rightful lord.—Ha! is it so?

Then has this boist'rous Raymond dar'd insult me,

Where I alone should rule:—yet not by that

Am I condemn'd to lose her. Thou damn'd scroll!

I fear thou hast worse poison for my eyes.

Long were the champions, bound for Palestine,

(Thy grandsire then their chief,) by adverse winds

Detain'd in Naples; where he saw, and lov'd,

And wedded secretly, Vicenza's daughter;

For, till the holy warfare should be clos'd,

They deem'd it wise to keep the rite conceal'd.

The issue of that marriage was thy mother;

But the same hour that gave her to the world,

For ever clos'd the fair one's eyes who bore her.

Foul treason next cut short thy grandsire's thread;

Poison'd he fell.—

[Theodorepauses, andAustin, who has been some time behind, advances.

Aust.By Raymond's felon father,Who, adding fraud to murder, forg'd a will,Devising to himself and his descendants,Thy rights, thy titles, thy inheritance.

Aust.By Raymond's felon father,

Who, adding fraud to murder, forg'd a will,

Devising to himself and his descendants,

Thy rights, thy titles, thy inheritance.

Theod.Then I am lost—

Aust.Now think, unkind young man,Was it for naught I warn'd thee to take heed,And smother in its birth this dangerous passion?The Almighty arm, red for thy grandsire's murder,Year after year has terribly been stretch'dO'er all the land, but most this guilty race.

Aust.Now think, unkind young man,

Was it for naught I warn'd thee to take heed,

And smother in its birth this dangerous passion?

The Almighty arm, red for thy grandsire's murder,

Year after year has terribly been stretch'd

O'er all the land, but most this guilty race.

Theod.The murderer was guilty, not his race.

Aust.Great crimes, like this, have lengthen'd punishments.Why speak the fates by signs and prodigies?Why one by one falls this devoted line,Accomplishing the dreadful prophecy,That none should live to enjoy the fruits of blood?But wave this argument.—Thou wilt be call'dTo prove thy right,By combat with the Count.

Aust.Great crimes, like this, have lengthen'd punishments.

Why speak the fates by signs and prodigies?

Why one by one falls this devoted line,

Accomplishing the dreadful prophecy,

That none should live to enjoy the fruits of blood?

But wave this argument.—Thou wilt be call'd

To prove thy right,

By combat with the Count.

Theod.In arms I'll meet him;To-morrow, now.—

Theod.In arms I'll meet him;

To-morrow, now.—

Aust.And, reeking with his blood,Offer the hand, which shed it, to his daughter?

Aust.And, reeking with his blood,

Offer the hand, which shed it, to his daughter?

Theod.Ha!

Aust.Does it shake thee?——Come, my Theodore,Let not a gust of love-sick inclinationRoot, like a sweeping whirlwind, from thy soulAll the fair growth of noble thoughts and virtue,Thy mother planted in thy early youth;Oh, rashly tread not down the promis'd harvest,They toil'd to rear to the full height of honour!

Aust.Does it shake thee?——Come, my Theodore,

Let not a gust of love-sick inclination

Root, like a sweeping whirlwind, from thy soul

All the fair growth of noble thoughts and virtue,

Thy mother planted in thy early youth;

Oh, rashly tread not down the promis'd harvest,

They toil'd to rear to the full height of honour!

Theod.Would I had liv'd obscure in penury,Rather than thus!—Distraction!—Adelaide!

Theod.Would I had liv'd obscure in penury,

Rather than thus!—Distraction!—Adelaide!

EnterAdelaide.

Adel.Oh, whither shall I fly!

Theod.What means my love?Why thus disturb'd?

Theod.What means my love?

Why thus disturb'd?

Adel.The castle is beset;The superstitious, fierce, inconstant people,Madder than storms, with weapons caught in haste,Menace my father's life; rage, and revile him;Call him the heir of murderous usurpation;And swear they'll own no rightful lord but Godfrey.

Adel.The castle is beset;

The superstitious, fierce, inconstant people,

Madder than storms, with weapons caught in haste,

Menace my father's life; rage, and revile him;

Call him the heir of murderous usurpation;

And swear they'll own no rightful lord but Godfrey.

Aust.Blind wretches! I will hence, and try my powerTo allay the tumult. Follow me, my son!

Aust.Blind wretches! I will hence, and try my power

To allay the tumult. Follow me, my son!

[ExitAustin.

Adel.Go not defenceless thus; think on thy safety,See, yonder porch opes to the armoury;There coats of mailed proof, falchions, and casques,And all the glittering implements of war,Stand terribly arrang'd.

Adel.Go not defenceless thus; think on thy safety,

See, yonder porch opes to the armoury;

There coats of mailed proof, falchions, and casques,

And all the glittering implements of war,

Stand terribly arrang'd.

Theod.Heavens! 'twas what I wish'd.Yes, Adelaide, I go to fight for him:Thy father, shall not fall ingloriously;But, when he sees this arm strike at his foes,Shall own, thy Theodore deserv'd his daughter.

Theod.Heavens! 'twas what I wish'd.

Yes, Adelaide, I go to fight for him:

Thy father, shall not fall ingloriously;

But, when he sees this arm strike at his foes,

Shall own, thy Theodore deserv'd his daughter.

[Exeunt.

A Hall.

EnterCount,Fabian,Austin,AttendantswithPrisoners.

Count.Hence to a dungeon with those mutinous slaves;There let them prate of prophecies and visions;And when coarse fare and stripes bring back their senses,Perhaps I may relent, and turn them looseTo new offences, and fresh chastisement.

Count.Hence to a dungeon with those mutinous slaves;

There let them prate of prophecies and visions;

And when coarse fare and stripes bring back their senses,

Perhaps I may relent, and turn them loose

To new offences, and fresh chastisement.

[ExeuntOfficers, &c.

Fab.You bleed, my lord!

Count.A scratch—death! to be bay'dBy mungrels! curs! They yelp'd, and show'd their fangs,Growl'd too, as they would bite. But was't not poor,Unlike the generous strain of Godfrey's lineage,To stir the rabble up in nobles' quarrels,And bribe my hinds and vassals to assault me.

Count.A scratch—death! to be bay'd

By mungrels! curs! They yelp'd, and show'd their fangs,

Growl'd too, as they would bite. But was't not poor,

Unlike the generous strain of Godfrey's lineage,

To stir the rabble up in nobles' quarrels,

And bribe my hinds and vassals to assault me.

Aust.They were not stirr'd by Godfrey.

Count.Who then stirr'd them?Thyself, perhaps. Was't thou? And yet I wrong thee;Thou didst preach peace; and straight they crouch'd and shrunk,More tam'd by the persuasion of thy tongue,Than losing the hot drops my steel drew from them.

Count.Who then stirr'd them?

Thyself, perhaps. Was't thou? And yet I wrong thee;

Thou didst preach peace; and straight they crouch'd and shrunk,

More tam'd by the persuasion of thy tongue,

Than losing the hot drops my steel drew from them.

Aust.I might, perhaps, have look'd for better thanks,Than taunts to pay my service.—But no matter.—My son, too, serv'd thee nobly; he bestrode thee,And drove those peasants back, whose staves and clubs,But for his aid, had shiver'd that stout frame:But both, too well accustom'd to thy transports,Nor ask, nor hope thy courtesy.

Aust.I might, perhaps, have look'd for better thanks,

Than taunts to pay my service.—But no matter.—

My son, too, serv'd thee nobly; he bestrode thee,

And drove those peasants back, whose staves and clubs,

But for his aid, had shiver'd that stout frame:

But both, too well accustom'd to thy transports,

Nor ask, nor hope thy courtesy.

Count.Your pardon!I knew my life was sav'd, but not by whom;I wish'd it not, yet thank him. I was down,Stunn'd in the inglorious broil; and nought remember,More than the shame of such a paltry danger.Where is he?

Count.Your pardon!

I knew my life was sav'd, but not by whom;

I wish'd it not, yet thank him. I was down,

Stunn'd in the inglorious broil; and nought remember,

More than the shame of such a paltry danger.

Where is he?

Aust.Here.

[Theodoreadvances from the Back of the Stage.

Count.[Starting.]Ha! angels shelter me!

Theod.Why starts he thus?

Count.Are miracles renew'd?Art thou not ris'n from the mould'ring grave?And in the awful majesty of death,'Gainst nature, and the course of mortal thought,Assum'st the likeness of a living form,To blast my soul with horror?

Count.Are miracles renew'd?

Art thou not ris'n from the mould'ring grave?

And in the awful majesty of death,

'Gainst nature, and the course of mortal thought,

Assum'st the likeness of a living form,

To blast my soul with horror?

Theod.Does he rave?Or means he thus to mock me?

Theod.Does he rave?

Or means he thus to mock me?

Count.Answer me!Speak, some of you, who have the power to speak;Is it not he?

Count.Answer me!

Speak, some of you, who have the power to speak;

Is it not he?

Fab.Who, good my lord?

Count.Alphonso.His form, his arms, his air, his very frown.Lord of these confines, speak—declare thy pleasure;

Count.Alphonso.

His form, his arms, his air, his very frown.

Lord of these confines, speak—declare thy pleasure;

Theod.Dost thou not know me then?

Count.Ha! Theodore?This sameness, not resemblance, is past faith.All statues, pictures, or the likeness keptBy memory, of the good Alphonso living,Are faint and shadowy traces, to this image!

Count.Ha! Theodore?

This sameness, not resemblance, is past faith.

All statues, pictures, or the likeness kept

By memory, of the good Alphonso living,

Are faint and shadowy traces, to this image!

Fab.Hear me, my lord, so shall the wonder cease.—The very arms he wears, were once Alphonso's.He found them in the stores, and brac'd them on,To assist you in your danger.

Fab.Hear me, my lord, so shall the wonder cease.—

The very arms he wears, were once Alphonso's.

He found them in the stores, and brac'd them on,

To assist you in your danger.

Count.'Tis most strange.I strive, but cannot conquer this amazement:I try to take them off; yet still my eyesAgain are drawn, as if by magic on him.

Count.'Tis most strange.

I strive, but cannot conquer this amazement:

I try to take them off; yet still my eyes

Again are drawn, as if by magic on him.

Aust.[Aside toTheodore.]Hear you, my son?

Theod.Yes, and it wakes within me,Sensations new till now.

Theod.Yes, and it wakes within me,

Sensations new till now.

Aust.To-morrow's lightWill show him wonders greater.—Sir, it pleas'd you,(Wherefore you best can tell) to make us hereYour prisoners; but the alarm of your dangerThrew wide your gates, and freed us. We return'dTo give you safeguard.—May we now depart?

Aust.To-morrow's light

Will show him wonders greater.—Sir, it pleas'd you,

(Wherefore you best can tell) to make us here

Your prisoners; but the alarm of your danger

Threw wide your gates, and freed us. We return'd

To give you safeguard.—May we now depart?

Count.Ay, to the confines of the farthest earth;For here thy sight unhinges Raymond's soul.Be hid, where air or light may never find thee;And bury too that phantom.

Count.Ay, to the confines of the farthest earth;

For here thy sight unhinges Raymond's soul.

Be hid, where air or light may never find thee;

And bury too that phantom.

[ExitCount, with hisAttendants.

Theod.Insolence!Too proud to thank our kindness! yet, what horrorShook all his frame, when thus I stood before him!

Theod.Insolence!

Too proud to thank our kindness! yet, what horror

Shook all his frame, when thus I stood before him!

Aust.The statue of thy grandsire(The very figure as thou stood'st before him,Arm'd just as thou art), seem'd to move, and live;That breathing marble, which the people's loveRear'd near his tomb, within our convent's walls.Anon I'll lead thee to it.

Aust.The statue of thy grandsire

(The very figure as thou stood'st before him,

Arm'd just as thou art), seem'd to move, and live;

That breathing marble, which the people's love

Rear'd near his tomb, within our convent's walls.

Anon I'll lead thee to it.

Theod.Let me hence,To shake these trappings off.

Theod.Let me hence,

To shake these trappings off.

Aust.Wear them, and mark me.Ere night, thy kinsman Godfrey, will be masterOf all thy story:—He is brave, and just,And will support thy claim. Should proof and reasonFail with the usurper, thou must try thy sword(And Heaven will strike for thee) in combat with him.The conscious flash of this thy grandsire's mail,Worse than the horrors of the fabled Gorgon,That curdled blood to stone, will shrink his sinews,And cast the wither'd boaster at thy feet.

Aust.Wear them, and mark me.

Ere night, thy kinsman Godfrey, will be master

Of all thy story:—

He is brave, and just,

And will support thy claim. Should proof and reason

Fail with the usurper, thou must try thy sword

(And Heaven will strike for thee) in combat with him.

The conscious flash of this thy grandsire's mail,

Worse than the horrors of the fabled Gorgon,

That curdled blood to stone, will shrink his sinews,

And cast the wither'd boaster at thy feet.

Theod.Grant it ye powers! but not to shed his blood:The father of my Adelaide, that name—

Theod.Grant it ye powers! but not to shed his blood:

The father of my Adelaide, that name—

Aust.Is dearer far than mine;—my words are air;My counsels pass unmark'd. But come, my son!To-night my cell must house thee. Let me show theeThe humble mansion of thy lonely father,Proud once, and prosperous; where I have wept, and pray'd,And, lost in cold oblivion of the world,Twice nine long years; thy mother, and thyself,And God, were all my thoughts.

Aust.Is dearer far than mine;—my words are air;

My counsels pass unmark'd. But come, my son!

To-night my cell must house thee. Let me show thee

The humble mansion of thy lonely father,

Proud once, and prosperous; where I have wept, and pray'd,

And, lost in cold oblivion of the world,

Twice nine long years; thy mother, and thyself,

And God, were all my thoughts.

Theod.Ay, to the convent!For there my love, my Adelaide, expects me.[Aside.

Theod.Ay, to the convent!

For there my love, my Adelaide, expects me.[Aside.

[Exeunt.

Another Apartment in the Castle.

EnterCountandFabian.

Count.By hell, this legend of Alphonso's deathHourly gains ground.

Count.By hell, this legend of Alphonso's death

Hourly gains ground.

Fab.They talk of naught besides;And their craz'd notions are so full of wonder,There's scarce a common passage of the times,But straight their folly makes it ominous.

Fab.They talk of naught besides;

And their craz'd notions are so full of wonder,

There's scarce a common passage of the times,

But straight their folly makes it ominous.

Count.Fame, that, like water, widens from its source,Thus often swells, and spreads a shallow falsehood.At first, a twilight tale of village terror,The hair of boors and beldams bristled at it;(Such bloodless fancies wake to nought but fear:)Then, heard with grave derision by the wise,And, from contempt, unsearch'd and unrefuted,It pass'd upon the laziness of faith,Like many a lie, gross, and impossible.

Count.Fame, that, like water, widens from its source,

Thus often swells, and spreads a shallow falsehood.

At first, a twilight tale of village terror,

The hair of boors and beldams bristled at it;

(Such bloodless fancies wake to nought but fear:)

Then, heard with grave derision by the wise,

And, from contempt, unsearch'd and unrefuted,

It pass'd upon the laziness of faith,

Like many a lie, gross, and impossible.

Fab.A lie believ'd, may in the end, my lord,Prove fatal as a written gospel truth.Therefore——

Fab.A lie believ'd, may in the end, my lord,

Prove fatal as a written gospel truth.

Therefore——

Count.Take heed; and ere the lightning strike,Fly from the sulphurous clouds.—I am not dull;For, bright as ruddy meteors through the sky,The thought flames here, shall light me to my safety.Fabian, away! Send hither to me straight,Renchild and Thybalt.[ExitFabian.]They are young and fearless.Thy flight, ungrateful Isabel, compels meTo this rude course. I would have all with kindness;Nor stain the snow-white flower of my true loveWith spots of violence. But it must be so.This lordly priest, this Clarinsal, or Austin,Like a true churchman, by his calling tainted,Prates conscience; and in craft abets Earl Godfrey,That Isabel may wed his upstart son.Let Rome dart all her lightnings at my head,Till her grey pontiff singe in his own fires:Spite of their rage, I'll force the sanctuary,And bear her off this night, beyond their power;My bride, if she consents; if not, my hostage.

Count.Take heed; and ere the lightning strike,

Fly from the sulphurous clouds.—I am not dull;

For, bright as ruddy meteors through the sky,

The thought flames here, shall light me to my safety.

Fabian, away! Send hither to me straight,

Renchild and Thybalt.[ExitFabian.]They are young and fearless.

Thy flight, ungrateful Isabel, compels me

To this rude course. I would have all with kindness;

Nor stain the snow-white flower of my true love

With spots of violence. But it must be so.

This lordly priest, this Clarinsal, or Austin,

Like a true churchman, by his calling tainted,

Prates conscience; and in craft abets Earl Godfrey,

That Isabel may wed his upstart son.

Let Rome dart all her lightnings at my head,

Till her grey pontiff singe in his own fires:

Spite of their rage, I'll force the sanctuary,

And bear her off this night, beyond their power;

My bride, if she consents; if not, my hostage.

Enter TwoOfficers.

Come hither, sirs. Take twenty of your fellows;Post ten at the great gate of Nicholas;The rest, by two's, guard every avenueLeads from the convent to the plain or castle.Charge them (and as their lives shall answer it,)That none but of my train pass out, or enter.

Come hither, sirs. Take twenty of your fellows;

Post ten at the great gate of Nicholas;

The rest, by two's, guard every avenue

Leads from the convent to the plain or castle.

Charge them (and as their lives shall answer it,)

That none but of my train pass out, or enter.

1 Offi.We will, my lord, about it instantly.

Back to Index Next