University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE, The Lists.
On one side are ranged the King and Court; on the other, a Multitude, with Officers. Westmoreland and Edward appear, in Armour, attended by 'Squires, each under a Banner, on which are emblazoned their Arms, with Devices; their Lances and Helmets borne.
A Herald advances.
HERALD.
Guthbert, Earl of Westmoreland!
And noble Edward of Somerset!
The King commands that ye do now advance,
And, in the presence, openly declare
The cause for which a combat ye have ask'd—
—Risking, in private feuds, the precious blood
Which for your Country only should be spilt.

WESTMORELAND.
My Liege! I answer the demand. Lord Edward
Did yesterday, with humble suit, entreat
That in his favour I would move my Daughter—
—Feigning true passion, and unequall'd love.
With warm regard I did accept the charge,
And—not without some difficulty—won her.
This morn was fix'd, by hymeneal rites
To sanctify the passion they avow'd.
This very morn, whilst I, with joy impatient,
Prepar'd to hail him Son—
He came, with slander charg'd—breathing base falsehoods
To stain her name, and gloss the violation
Of his pledg'd faith—Therefore I challenge Edward!

KING.
This charge, by Westmoreland's good Earl alledg'd,
We have, with wonder and concern, attended.
'Mongst the bright Ladies who adorn our court,
Not one so peerless stands as Countess Raimond;
Not one whose fame more fitly suits her birth;
Nor one whose honour more becomes her fame.
Why then, Lord Edward, hast thou, causeless, stain'd it?
Why thrown away a gem that throned monarchs
Might have beheld thee wear with envy?

EDWARD.
Be witness for me, Heaven! You, my dread Sovereign!
And ye, assembled People—bear me witness!
That Raimond's chastity I held unquestion'd,
As the high myst'ries of our holy faith.
I lov'd her with most honourable love,
And to have worn with her the marriage-chain,
More glorious deem'd it, than imperial crowns.
I, who would, yesterday, against a legion
Her honour have maintain'd, must now—oh horrible!
Here, in the blushing face of day, stand forth
The forc'd accuser of undone Albina!

KING.
Some wrong interpretation seems to lurk,
And to have caus'd this mischievous dispute.
We do advise ye, Lords, to take more time.
If, in short space, the knot doth not unfold,
We do consent that ye again shall meet,
And prove, at point of sword, whose is the error.

WESTMORELAND.
This sword, my Liege! hath taught the Eastern world
Submission to your laws. Its faithful point
Hath prob'd the hearts of Infidels and Rebels—
May its good service to confusion turn,
And may this arm cling nerveless to my side,
If I depart the lists, ere I have prov'd it
On the defamer of my spotless Child!

KING.

[Trumpet sounds, Herald advances.]
HERALD.
Ye Knights! who gave and have accepted challenge,
—Lords, Westmoreland and Edward, your career
Begin! not doubting but his arm will vanquish
Who lifts it on the side of sacred truth.
God speed the right!

WESTMORELAND.
Now, Edward! the grey locks that thou didst taunt
Shall prove a wreath victorious.

[Goes eagerly towards his horse.
EDWARD.
Since thy fierce spirit will with blood alone
Be satisfied, O Westmoreland! I follow thee.
But, righteous Heaven! direct my erring arm,
That, whilst it guards the life thou bidst me keep,
It may not injure his, who thirsts for mine!

Enter Egbert, rushing from the crowd.
EGBERT.
Hold—oh, hold! stay, my Lords! ere ye commit
A deed, that leads to horror, and repentance.
I have a tale that will unfold—

Gondibert springing forward.
GONDIBERT.
Villain!
Thou ly'st! it choaks thee in the utterance.

KING.
Whence this irreverence? Disarm Lord Gondibert!
And know, bold Man, that in the eye of Kings
All hold an equal place. I bear a sceptre
Which is my People's staff, and shall support
Alike, the Peasant and his Lord. Speak, old Man;
Whate'er thy tale, thou shalt have patient hearing.

EGBERT.
Most gracious Liege! to save the precious blood
Of these much-injur'd Lords, with deepest sorrow
I witness bear, that in a snare they've fall'n,
Most wickedly devis'd for their destruction.

KING.
Whom dost accuse of this atrocious crime?

EGBERT.
There are, my Liege, who have with groundless jealousy
Poison'd Lord Edward's mind, and work'd on him
To yield to infamy his spotless Bride.

EDWARD.
Blest old Man! prove me, oh! that monster prove me!

KING.
Thou say'st there are, but nam'st not those in fault.

EGBERT.
Hard task!—in truth, the chief in fault is—

GONDIBERT.
Dastard!
Speak out; nor dare insult me with thy mercy.
'Twas I—I am the chief in fault—if fault
It be. I practis'd on a Fool's credulity,
Shew'd him an Angel in the garb of hell,
And he believ'd the cheat'ry.

EDWARD.
Oh! thy words
Are barbed arrows. I am sick at heart.

GONDIBERT.
'Twas me thou sawest in Albina's chamber.
The tales, to which thou list'nedst of her falshood,
Were all imposture—and this I did, because
I love her.

EDWARD.
Love her!

GONDIBERT.
Aye! and wherefore—
—Say wherefore, but the casual name of Brother,
Should not I boast my Love? But for that cause,
Thou, Edward, had'st not dar'd to think upon her.

WESTMORELAND.
Impious—most impious passion!

GONDIBERT.
Even now
I will maintain it. Instant will I arm,
[To Edward.
And meet thee in the Lists—and, since the laws
Ordain my Love a crime, there thou may'st rip it
From my heart.

[Going.
KING.
Stay, I do command thee, stay!
Thou hast no longer title to the rights
Allow'd to those, who, in the path of Honour,
Have, persevering, shap'd their brilliant course:
Thy crimes beneath our yeomanry degrade thee;
And we decree, that whosoe'er accepts
From thee a challenge, be unworthy held
To try his lance with honourable Knights.

GONDIBERT.
My Liege! [Resentfully.


KING.

EGBERT.
Oh, gracious Liege! unworthy I should be
To tread the earth, could I accept of blessings
From such a source as my lov'd Lord's destruction:
It is a horrid duty I've fullfill'd!
To some forsworn abode I'll now retire,
Wasting the cheerless remnant of my days
In sorrow for his fault; and weary Heaven
With prayers for his repentance.

WESTMORELAND.
Thy retirement
Is my care. Go, good Egbert, to my palace,
And wait my coming.

[Exit Egbert.
EDWARD.
Injured Westmoreland!
How—how shall I approach thee? Shame, despair,
Do rend my breast; nor dare I lift my eyes
To thine, lest I should read my sentence there.

KING.
Come, my good Lord! let me for Edward plead—
For him, whose virtues, glory, and descent,
Demand an advocate not less than royal.
Surely, if fair Albina now beheld him,
With eyes in deep contrition bent on earth,
Pity would rob her anger of its sting—
She too would plead; and, in the voice of Love,
Extort a pardon for her Country's Hero.

WESTMORELAND.
Though high in spirit, proud, and quickly mov'd
With aught that glances on my precious honour—
Yet, gracious Sovereign! I can pardon too.
These public proofs of my Albina's virtue,
Restore my bosom to its wonted calm,
And thee, Lord Edward, to thy wonted place.
—Again I thus embrace thee as my Son.

[Shout.
EDWARD.
O great, transporting, unexampled goodness!

KING.
This then is still the wedding-day—the rites
Be instantly perform'd. That no regret
May poison such an hour, we do recall
The order of your service in the East,
'Till we ourself shall in the Orient Sea
Lave our proud oars; and with Britannia's sword,
Blazing destruction, like the guardian Seraph's,
Drive from blest Zion's walls the humbled Infidel.

EDWARD.
My Prince, my Guardian, and my royal Master!
With rapture I accept the leave you grant,
And give my helmet, to the God of Love.

[Westmoreland and Edward kneel at the foot of the throne, and the Scene closes.]
SCENE, An Apartment in Gondibert's Palace.
Enter Gondibert, followed by Editha.
EDITHA.
'Tis thus that men, when sinking, from the ruin
Which their own folly bred, accuse the heavens,
And execrate their stars. Curse not thy fate,
Nor Egbert; 'tis thyself on whom thou shouldst
Revenge thine injuries.

GONDIBERT.
Editha, spare me!
My mind, with wild contending passions torn,
Now, like a hart by worrying dogs forsook,
Sinks into apathy.

EDITHA.
Hear then a tale,
Will rouse thee from thy lethargy—this night
Albina will be Edward's Wife.

GONDIBERT.
This night?

EDITHA.
This hour!

GONDIBERT.
It is enough. My wrongs awake
In all their strength, and cry aloud for vengeance.
There is an insult in this over-haste,
That finishes the whole. [Pausing.]
Editha, leave me.
On dreadful things I now would ruminate!

EDITHA.
On what? Impart to me thy thoughts—Instruct me.

GONDIBERT.
No. Leave me.

EDITHA.

GONDIBERT.
Fiend! hast thou no mercy?
Dost riot in my woes? Are these the gifts
Of friendship?

EDITHA.
No—the gifts of wild despair.
Oh, wert thou such a dotard to believe
That pity—pity to thy woes, e'er prompted me
To steep my soul in crimes?

GONDIBERT.
What is't I hear?

EDITHA.
That I aspir'd to greatness, and perceiv'd
No road to reach my hopes, but through Lord Edward;
That to behold another in his arms,
Is madness; and that thee I made my tool
To interrupt their hated loves.

GONDIBERT.
Perdition!
Fly me, thou Monster! lest thy womanhood
I should forget, and scatter thee in atoms
To the tempestuous winds!—
[Exit Editha, with an air of menace.
[Musing.]
Be firm, my soul! nor let unworthy weakness
Destroy the vengeful purpose thou hast fram'd.
Banish'd—robb'd of my country, and my name;
Yet they have left a mind defies their vengeance—
Which, though these limbs were lock'd in bolts of steel,
And darkness wrapt these precious founts of light,
Would rise superior to their bounded power,
And scorn alike their fetters, and their laws.
He for whom I'm exil'd, for exil'd Gondibert
Shall weep with his heart's blood; and ev'ry vein
Pour tribute to my mighty sorrows. Edward!
This night, in which thy pulse beats high to transport,
Thy senses giddy with approaching bliss—
—This night beholds thee in Death's icy bands;
Thy shroud shall fold thee, not Albina's arms!

[Exit.
SCENE changes to Albina's Garden.
Enter Adela.
ADELA.
Alas! my Mistress! vainly have I sought her
Through ev'ry gloomy, solitary walk,
To give the tidings that will kill her peace.
Ah! she is here. How mournful is her air!
Enter Editha.
The ceremonial's past—unhappy Lady!
Lord Edward and the Countess now are one.

EDITHA.
'Tis well! I hear thee, Adela, unmov'd!
Can one grow callous from repeated woes?
Shall the scourg'd wretch not feel the added stripe?

ADELA.
With decent pride, and with affected anger,
The Countess long her Lover's prayers withstood.
At length, the King—to save her from the shame
Of yielding to her heart's most eager wish—
Commanded she should take Lord Edward's hand,
And he himself would join them at the altar.

EDITHA.
Dæmons preside o'er the detested nuptials!

ADELA.
I was preparing to attend you here,
When the Lord Edward met me. Go! said he,
Seek out your Mistress. Much oppress'd she seems,
And overcome with care. Bear her these lines—
—Her anguish they'll relieve.

EDITHA.
To me, a letter!
Reads.

“The injuries the Countess hath received, cannot
be pardon'd, yet I'll not expose you. Leave
Albina's castle, yet leave it as your voluntary
act. The ills his family hath brought on
you, Edward will not increase, but study to
relieve. A stipend, suited to your rank, shall
be assign'd you; but you must live at distance
from Albina.

Insolent!
[flinging away the letter.
Shall Edward, then, prescribe my breathing-place?
Shall he point out the spot, where I must eat
The morsel he assigns me? Sibald! Sibald!
Will it not rack thee, even in thy tomb,
That thy Editha must depend for bread
On his curst Son, who brought thee to the block?

ADELA.
Be not thus mov'd, but rather, Madam, think—

EDITHA.
I think on nothing but my wrongs.

ADELA.
The Countess
Commanded me to seek her Friend, and chide
An absence—so unkind!

EDITHA.
Must I return,
To witness her extravagance of bliss;
With gratulations meet whom I'd destroy?
Yes; such the joys, Dependence! thou bestow'st;
Such the distinctions that adorn thy slaves!

[Exeunt.
Enter Gondibert.
GONDIBERT.
[Much agitated, and starting with a distracted air.]

[Runs wildly off.
SCENE changes to Albina's Anti-chamber.
Enter Albina with Attendants.
INA.
Permit us, Madam, to perform our duty.
Unusual weight hath sudden seiz'd my spirits,
And something here forbids me to obey you.

ALBINA.
Such pensiveness oft follows, when the mind,
Surcharg'd with joy, hath yielded all her pow'rs
To the insidious guest. But leave me, Ina;
My nightly duty is not yet perform'd.
Mean time, Editha send; some secret grief
Preys on her mind, and fain I would relieve
Her bosom'd anguish.
[Exeunt Attendants, leaving two Candles on a distant Table.
Now, whilst giddy mirth
Shakes the high dome, and festive merriment
Expands the heart—let me awhile retire,
And offer up my grateful thoughts to Him,
Who hath through snares and wond'rous perils led me
—Led me, secure, to happiness and love.

[Exit, taking one of the Candles.
After a pause, enter Gondibert.
GONDIBERT.

[Exit.
Enter Editha.
EDITHA.
Was not the triumph of Albina finish'd
'Till lost Editha witnesses the scene?
Still with officious goodness doth she haunt me—
Me, who ne'er sought, but hate compassion. Pity!
Why do men call thee gentle? Thou'rt an sap
Within a rose—thy breath is perfume, and thy words
Sweet blossoms, that contain a venom'd sting—
Kindlier is Hatred in her honest garb,
Than stinging Pity in her meek-ey'd mask.

How gay, how full of bliss, is all around me!
But, oh! within is an abyss of wretchedness,
Which the bright beams of Joy can never reach—
And this, O Raimond! do I owe to thee!
Ha! had my wishes but the force of spells,
That Bridal couch should be a bed of thorns—
Thy dreams be cloth'd with images of horror—
—With images so strong, they'd seize thy brain,
Drag Reason from her throne, and bind her slave
To furious phantasies—then would'st thou wake
Unconscious of thy bliss, and execrate,
Like me, the happiness thou could'st not taste.
She comes! to meet my curses in the teeth—
Ha! no, 'tis Edward.

[Going.
Enter Edward.
EDWARD.
Thou wilt not fly me!
Turn, my heart's treasure!—to thy Husband turn!

EDITHA.
Torture! I am not she!

[Aside.
EDWARD.
What says my charmer!
Why dost thou cruelly avert the eyes
Whose glance is transport to thy Edward's heart!
Come, my Albina! come; too long thou'st kept me
From the blest circle of thy arms.

GONDIBERT.
[Rushing in.]
Stay longer!
[Plunges his Dagger into Editha, who screams and sinks.
Stay my leave!—'Tis Gondibert who wills thy fate.
He whom thou'st scorn'd—in love and glory vanquish'd,
—Confess him, now, thy conqu'ror! See at his feet
Thy vaunted bliss! But where's the tow'ring joy
That, yesterday, did madden in thy veins,
And bore thy haughty soul beyond humanity?

[Edward stands in an attitude of horror and amazement; then drawing his Dagger, rushes on Gondibert.
EDWARD.
This for Albina!

GONDIBERT.
Fool! the stroke of death
Is mine.
[Arrests Edward's arm, whose breast is exposed to his dagger.
This for Albina—this!
[Stabs himself, and falls.]
Now, Edward,
She is my Bride!

EDWARD.
Villain! devil! I cannot stay to curse thee.
Albina! my sweet Bride! my murder'd Wife!
The tomb must now be our cold nuptial bed.
[Kneeling by the body.]
A moment stay—I follow thee—I come!

[As Edward lifts his arm to stab himself, Albina enters on the opposite side.
ALBINA.
What mean these dreadful sounds? Oh, sight of horror!
'Tis death!—a sea of blood!—O Edward! come,
And catch me ere I fall.

EDWARD.
She lives! she lives!

[Throwing away the Dagger, clasps her in his arms.
GONDIBERT.
[feebly.
Albina living! Whom, then, have I slain?
Oh, Heav'n! thy hand was here.

WESTMORELAND.
[without.
This way, this way
Lead to my Daughter's chamber—there's the noise.
[Enter, preceded by lights, follow'd by Guests.]
Oh, dismal sight!—

GONDIBERT.
A moment still is spared me to unfold.
The madness of despairing Love, impell'd me
To kill Albina—But in her stead—oh!—
—My life doth flow too fast!—Pity—forgive me!
My guilty passion, even, now expires—
It rushes from my heart, in crimson streams,
And mingles with the dust. My crimes alone
Remain—they'll not forsake—they'll never quit me.
And now I'm summon'd—where—

[Dies.
ALBINA.
May mercy meet thee!
My Brother! I forgive, and mourn thy errors,
As I adore His hand, who hath preserv'd me.

EDWARD.
Accept, high Heav'n! my penetrated heart.
This day, in each revolving year, I'll celebrate.
The Debtor shall behold his bonds fall off,
The Poor rejoice, the Orphan's tears be dried—
—Nor sighs, nor tones of woe, profane the day—
The hallow'd day! on which thou sav'dst Albina.

WESTMORELAND.
[Speaking to the Guests.
Oh, mark th'effects of passions unrestrain'd!
Within the bosom of this noble Youth
Bright virtues sprung, as in their native bed;
'Till Vice—alluring in the shape of Love—
Crept silent to his heart—there spread her poisons—
There her black empire fix'd; then dragg'd her slave
Through infamy, to death.