University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—AN APARTMENT OF THE PRINCESS MARGARET'S.
Enter De Bourbon, followed by Margaret.
BOURBON.
A plague upon their tournaments, I say!

MARGARET.
Nay then, De Bourbon, by my woman's word,
This must not be; oh, say it shall not be!
Say, thou wilt rein this hot, impatient mood,
For thy sake—no, for mine, for mine I meant:
Are we not twined together in our love?
What wonder then, if, speaking of myself,
Thy name was on my lips?—for my sake, Bourbon.

BOURBON.
If thou wilt bid me journey to the moon
Upon a moth's wing, or wilt send me forth,
Belted and spurred, to fight some score of devils,—
Or worse, wilt bid me with some twenty men
Turn out Colonna from the Milanese,
Say so; and by this light I'll do it too!
But, to submit to this,—to bear all this,—
To let a woman tear my laurels off,—
And trample them,—Hell! when I think on it!
Pshaw! never fix those dangerous eyes on me,
And clasp thy hands—I say—

MARGARET.
She is my mother!

BOURBON.
I'saith I've often doubted of that truth;
Thou art not like her, for the which thank heaven!

MARGARET.
I can be like her though, my lord, in this:—
Not to endure the licence of your tongue.
If headlong passion urge you, sir, beyond
The bounds of prudence, look that you control it,
Nor vent bold thoughts in bolder words to me;
Else you may chance to find—

BOURBON.
She is thy mother?
Nay, smooth that brow, thou art too like the Queen;
And in those soft blue eyes, whose orbs reflect
Heaven's light with heaven's own purity, let not
The stormy gleam of anger e'er flash forth!
I had thought, Margaret, that love forgot
All ranks and all distinctions?

MARGARET.
Ay, so it doth.
All ties, the world, its wealth, its fame, or fortune,
Can twine; but never those of nature, Bourbon.
So mine can give up all, save the first bond
My heart e'er knew,—the love of those who gave
Life, and the power to love;—those early links
Lie wreathed like close-knit fibres round my heart,
Never to sever thence till my heart break.

BOURBON.
Lo! at thy feet I sue for pardon, sweet!
By thine own purity, thou virgin lily!
Thou flower of France! forgive the word that broke
Too hastily from my rash lips; which thus,
Having offended, will do penance now
Upon this marble shrine, my lady-love.

(Kisses her hand.)
MARGARET.
A goodly penitent! Nay, never kneel,
And look so pitiful;—there, I forgive thee.
But, Bourbon, by the faith of our sworn love,
I do implore thee to bear with my mother.

BOURBON.
Pshaw!—

MARGARET.
Why, look now, there's your brow dark and contracted;—
I see the passion flashing in your eyes;
You will not think of me, and bear with her?

BOURBON.
If I could think of thee, and not see her,—
Or think of thee, and not hear her, why, then—
Well, patience, and kind thoughts of thee befriend me!
And I will do my best to second them.

MARGARET.
Go you to meet my mother now?

BOURBON.
This hour
Love stole from duty to bestow on thee;
And now I must attend upon the Queen.

MARGARET.
See you observe my lesson.

BOURBON.
Fear me not;
Oh! I'll be wonderfully calm and patient.

MARGARET.
(Aside.)
—Methinks I'll try thee. (Aloud.)
—How if she should ask
Some question of your late left government?
I see you're very calm already! How
If she should speak of a fit successor?
Most patient! Lautrec now, or Bonnivet?

BOURBON.
Confusion light upon them! Bonnivet?
And Lautrec? beardless boys! whose maiden swords
Have not yet blush'd with one red drop of blood;
Whose only march hath been a midnight measure,
Whose only field hath been a midnight masque;
Is it for these, and their advancement, I
Have watch'd, have toil'd, have fought, have bled, have conquer'd;
Rush'd over fields strewed with the dead and dying,
Swam streams that ran all curdled with the blood
Of friend and foe, stood in the bristling breach,
And in the hour of death and desolation
Won never fading victories for France?
Shall the Queen's minions—by this living light—

MARGARET.
Oh, patient gentleman! how calm he is!
Now in those flaming eyes, and scornful lips,
I read how well my lesson profits thee.
Thou shalt not to the Queen in this hot mood.

BOURBON.
I'faith I must; the storm is over now;
And having burst, why, I shall be the calmer.
Farewell, sweet monitress! I'll not forget.

MARGARET.
Oh, but I fear—

BOURBON.
Fear not—she is thy mother!

[Exeunt severally.