University of Virginia Library

SCENE—Another Apartment.
Guise and his Lady.
EEMOINE.
Thus, on my knees, by heaven's eternal grace,
My Guise, my Husband, I adjure thee tell me,
Tell me, what means this earnestness to win
Erminia to the Court?—beneath this kindness
Lurks an ambiguous darkness; whence the horror
That shakes ev'n Raymond's knees, and chills his Countess
As death's cold touch?

GUISE.
Stern Raymond's wayward humour
Thus beats the air, and o'er his hapless spouse
Acts the dread Lord; to save his gentle lady
From this wild tyranny, were heaven's own kindness
Were worthy noblest friendship.

EEMOINE.
Ah, my Lord,
Her woes are all the woes of tenderest love,
And shall I act the part which you impose,
And add despair to anguish? No; forbid it,
Oh gracious heaven!

GUISE.
And thus a woman's weakness
Must blight the fairest harvest of my hopes.
Distraction, madness—

EEMOINE.
Yet, my Lord, yet hear;
I dread—Alas—

GUISE.
Few be my words—The King
In wildest admiration views the bravery
Of gallant Raymond: Raymond soon will shine
The first high-favour'd subject of the world;
And Raymond is my foe—Unless your friendship
With his lov'd Countess win me into favour,
Disgrac'd and banish'd from the court, our castle
In Normandy's wild hills, to you, to me,
Will soon become a lonely gloomy prison—
You tremble at the thought—Be wise; prevent it;
Be the bold friend of Raymond's injured Countess.
Give her the noblest gift a friend can give;
Teach her to vindicate her independence,
Leave to her gratitude the rest; and thou,
Be grateful too: remember the lone cloyster
From which my youthful love brought thee to grandeur.

[Ex. Guise.
EEMOINE.
I well remember it: thy dreary castle
In Normandy needs only to be nam'd,
And the dark cloyster's wintery shades return,
Where, lost to hope, my mounting soul seem'd fix'd
To a condition rooted to the earth
As the base weed that creeps on the cold rock;
Where, if at times my generous mind presag'd
The courtly scenes of grandeur and of joy,
Dependance, like a stern stepmother, blotted
The beauteous prospect, and sunk down my heart
In cold despair—Yes, I remember these;
And, were I spouse to Raymond, would not yield
To his ungenerous thraldom! Be my friendship
To Raymond's Countess then, such as myself,
In her lorn hours, would wish—

[Exit.
SCENE—Another Apartment.
Bramville and Raymond.
BRAMVILLE.
Indeed, my Lord, indeed your headlong passion
Has rudely injur'd the most faithful spouse—

RAYMOND.
My breast was torn with fierce conflicting passions,
And still is torn. Oh Bramville! speed again,
Tell my Erminia—

BRAMVILLE.
Bourbon, my Lord,
Perhaps ev'n now, ranges his host for battle;
Your Country asks your sword—

RAYMOND.
And witness, Heav'n,
I tremble for her fate yet, yet I will not,
I will not leave defenceless innocence
Beneath the wolf's hot eye. If you would arm me
To fight my country's battles, find me access
To my Erminia.

BRAMVILLE.
I speed, my Lord—

[Ex. Bramville.
RAYMOND.
Oh woman, woman, what may fix thy liking!
Good heav'n, what tenderness, what ardent passion
The yielding virgin's honest blush betrays!
But ah, how soon that honesty expires!
And to the first gross flatterer that assails,
Wanders her poison'd fancy; in affliction,
As light and changeful as the gaudy fly
Which hastens to the rose with eager speed,
And on its damask leaves, with fond embrace,
Flutters her painted wings a little while.
A little while, for lift she but her eyes
And the first thistle flower that catches them,
Catches her fancy too, and thither speeds she.
Oh Heaven what haggard imperfection blots
Thy fairest work!

Enter Ronsard.
RONSARD.
The troops, my Lord, you sent me to prepare,
Are all on fire to think you'll lead them—Ha,
How dark and wild that look!

RAYMOND.
Give me your hand.
Is this an honest hand?

RONSARD.
Unstain'd, my Lord.

RAYMOND.
Away! the world is false—

RONSARD.
Good heaven, my friend!

RAYMOND.
An old hag once told me,
That my friend's hands should tear my heart, should read
Each string, and while it wrung the master-cord,
With sleek adulterous smiles, should mock my woes.

RONSARD.
Oh heaven, let me confront the daring traitor,
Whose poisonous tongue—

RAYMOND.
Alas, Ronsard, thy manners
Have beauteous innocence. My thoughts were roving,
Were warm, my friend, warm with an ancient tale,
A noble one: brave Cyrus had a captive,
The pride of beauty; for the King's own bed
The chiefs reserv'd her: mark, she was a captive
Taken in war, the very flow'r of beauty.
But she was chaste, pure as the snow-rob'd angel
That guards the holy altar: every thought
Glow'd with her husband; cold as death's chill hand
To all the world beside. Yet she was woman;
And love might hope. But Cyrus made no revel,
No mid-night mask, no flattering amorous fondling
To fan her pride, or melt her guardless heart.
Ay, and her husband was the soe of Cyrus,
In arms against him; mark, he was an enemy,
But gallant Cyrus reverenc'd his love,
And to his arms restor'd the beauteous maid,
Pure as th' ethereal blushes of the dawn.

Enter Bramville.
BRAMVILLE.
My Lord, the keen impatience of your fears
Is the worst foe that wars against your spouse,
Eemoine soon will soothe your mind to peace.

RAYMOND.
Eemoine, not Erminia!

BRAMVILLE.
Your fiery glances struck your fond Erminia
As withering light'ning; by Eemoine's lips
She begg'd some little space for slow recovery;
But to the chapel: here your stay is treason;
Here may some spy betray you.

RAYMOND.
Struck her, said you?
Sweet heaven, what hope dwells here!
Guilt lifts the harden'd front against the injur'd.
[as slowly retiring.
She's innocent! then hence—
—Yet this Eemoine
Is spouse of Guise—A courtier, who could calmly
To death and infamy consign the friend
Who stood in his ambition's darkling way,
And smile too while he stabb'd him—

[Exeunt.
SCENE—Another Apartment.
The King, Guise, and the Lord Admiral.
KING.
My Lords, my happiness demands your service.
The Countess—Oh what charms! but go, my Guise,
I left her trembling on the giddy whirl
Of various passions. Fan her, least suspicions
Of Raymond's hatred—Tell her his dread revenge
Should bid her delicate resentment blaze.
Then let the powers of music soothe her spirits:
I'll follow you: when the dissolving soul
Glows in her eyes, the melting melody
Shall softly whisper what my looks would say.
[Ex Guise
And you, Lord Admiral, in every passage
Plant armed soldiers: have a watchful eye
On Raymond.—

LORD ADMIRAL.
And in iron chains secure him.

KING.
No, by my crown: to seize him yet were death
To the most lovely fair one. I have promised,
Tho' with affected shyness, to forgive him.
Heavens, how my feign'd reluctance fired her earnestness,
And fixt her keen imploring eyes upon me!
Tho' to my love her words spoke cold despair.
'Twas luxury to read her asking eyes
Thus languishing on me. And again,
Soon shall they woo me, while my lingering favour
Shall be the trammel of the god of love.
Her husband must be purchased. Hither Lord Admiral.

[Exeunt.