University of Virginia Library

SCENE—Changes to the great gothic Hall of the Castle.
Enter the Count and Lapont, in close Conference.
COUNT.
My good Lapont, remember what I've said!
You know its consequence.

LAPONT.
Count, do not doubt me!
My stake is great as your's. But now the money.—
I have an urgent purpose for that sum.

COUNT.
How can that be, Lapont? It is not long
Since you receiv'd a liberal supply.
Retain'd, and almost master in this castle,
What pressing wants—

LAPONT.
Ask you, my lord, what wants?
Have I not passions, think you, like your own,
That call, and loudly too, for gratification?
Shall I, for ever, eat dependent bread?
Nor while your power with your life remains,
Lay up some store, for my declining years?

COUNT.
Nay, my good friend, this heat becomes you not!
There is the money; giv'n with free good-will;
Tho', think not, if an earthly tomb awaits me,
That I shou'd leave thy fortunes destitute!

LAPONT.
I dare not run the hazard.

COUNT.
Dare not run!—

LAPONT.
Come, come, my lord, we know each other well:
But on such knowledge grows not confidence.
As far as mutual secrets may affect
Our mutual safety, we may trust each other.

COUNT.
“The villain!” (aside)
Well, Lapont, no more of this.
What have I done to waken such suspicion?
My gen'rous kindness merits better thoughts.—
But I must go.—This house to me is hateful,
Tho' it contains the object I adore.—

LAPONT.
Why did you come, then, if your timid heart,
Relax'd of nerve, starts at its own emotions,
And dares to do, what it not dares to think of?
Have you quite lost the firmness of your temper?

COUNT.
I scorn my abject soul, yet can't command it;
Deride its childish fears, yet feel them still:
Absent from hence, I never know these terrors;
Nor here shou'd know them, if but one event—
You guess my meaning—set my heart at rest.

LAPONT.
'Tis marvellous it happen'd not long since!
But it must happen soon. Why, then, meanwhile,
Why came you hither, to disturb your peace,
And wake the sleeping torment in your bosom?

COUNT.
The countess, whom I worship—for did ever
Such grace and beauty meet thy dazzled eyes?—
The countess wou'd not be denied this boon.
Romantic, ardent, visionary, fond,
She sigh'd to quit the gay and splendid world,
And wander with me, thro' my native shades;
Seeing her bent, past hope, to quit the court,
I press'd a visit to the duke her father,
And feign'd a strong desire to see his castle,
Fam'd for its grandeur, and its wide domain.

LAPONT.
Feign'd a desire, where you may well command?
What, does a woman govern thus your reason,
And lead her puppet as her fancy leads?
For shame! for shame!—remember you're a man!

COUNT.
Form'd to command, and captivate all hearts,
I own, her talents, aided by her charms,
Make me a ready slave to all her wishes:
What once has got possession of her mind,
She follows with such fervency of passion,
As cannot brook controul.—Here, then, she is;
But here, tho' sick at heart, to tear me from her,
The world shou'd not induce my longer stay!
She soon shall follow me:—I will contrive
To draw her back, by some pretence, to Paris.
While she is here, I shall not know repose.
There are the keys; and never may these hands
Feel their cold touch, or know their office more!
[Throws down a bunch of keys on a table, and exit hastily; Lapont as hastily following and calling after him, leaving the keys behind—
Stay, count!—I must intreat some private converse,
On matters of great moment, ere we part!—