University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—The garden belonging to Miriam's house— Ivanhoe and Rebecca seated.
Ivanhoe.
Oh! would this hour were long as it is sweet!
Then would it never end.

Rebecca.
But why, my friend,
This brow of sadness? Trust me now, it seems
To chide my happier thought—Is't sickness clouds
Thy better self?

Ivanhoe.
Thanks to thy loving care,
My wounds are whole—I would not make thee blush
With thine own praise, yet sooth thy healing skill
Exceeds the surgeon's art no marvel, fame
Taxes thee, Love, with witchcraft—true indeed
There's witchcraft in thine eye.

Rebecca.
This flatt'ring strain
Shows more like mirth, and therefore I'll not chide it.
But how could I do less, when love for me
Had clos'd against thy need a father's door?

Ivanhoe.
Talk not of him—Rebecca. I must leave thee.

Rebecca.
You go with us to York—This very hour
We leave mine uncle on our journey home.

Ivanhoe.
Thou shalt know all—King Richard is return'd,
At whose command I came to try the land,
For fame told many stories of dark plots
Laid by his brother 'gainst his life and throne.
His will now bids me join him—Therefore list:
Sev'n years I've lov'd you—lov'd as few have lov'd—
Nor frown of friends, nor time, nor distance, nor
The thousand forms of beauty, e'er have made
My love forgetful of its first-born vow.
Now, then, reward that love—let marriage join
Our hands, whose hearts have been so long but one.

Rebecca.
Oh! not for worlds would I bring on thy head
A father's curse.

Enter Cedric—Ivanhoe kneels.
Ivanhoe.
To see thee here is joy
Beyond my hope.

Rebecca.
(aside)
Why do I tremble? I
Have done no wrong.

Cedric.
What skills thy bended knee?
Bend thy proud stubborn heart—Arise, young man.
Arise, I say—I would not ought but Heav'n
Should witness Cedric's race upon the knee.

Ivanhoe.
Your pardon first.

Cedric.
Arise, I say, and list.
I wish'd to hate thee; but this foolish heart
Plays false with reason, and I come to sue,
To beg of mine own son—Fly from this witch—

Rebecca.
(aside).
Be still, proud heart.

Ivanhoe.
She sav'd my life.

Cedric.
'Twere better you had died, than so been sav'd.
But I'll not waste more speech—My hand is rais'd—
Speak—shall it bless or curse thee?

Rebecca.
Let me speak—
I've lov'd your son—have dearly, truly lov'd him—
And oh, must love him still; but from this hour
Mine eye shall be a stranger to his sight.

Ivanhoe.
Rebecca!

Rebecca.
Thou'lt forgive him?

Cedric.
Hypocrite!
Thou wilt not leave him—'tis the gloss of cunning.

Rebecca.
Believe the humble duty of my love,
That bows to earth to do thee fitting homage—
Believe my adjuration of yon Heaven,
That now I call in witness of my truth—
Believe—my tears.

Cedric.
Arise—I trust thee not.
And yet so like to truth—but no—arise.

Rebecca.
Then, Ivanhoe—thy hand—Is it not mine?

Ivanhoe.
Thine—ever thine—and bless'd that it is thine.

Rebecca.
Then thus I give it where it most belongs.
Will you not take it—'Tis a proud rich gift
From one so poor.

Cedric.
I am all wonder—

Rebecca.
Ay!
Thy wonder makes me wonder—Let it go—
I am a willing sacrifice; and when
Sorrow grows wild beyond my strength to suffer,
I'll think upon this hour, and then my heart
Will not quite break—will not quite break.

(Exit Rebecca
Cedric.
My son—
I do not chide thy grief—the maid is worth
An honourable sorrow—Pity 'tis
She comes of Jewish race.

Ivanhoe
(half aside.)
She shall be mine.
I will not yield her for the price of worlds.

Cedric.
Wake not a father's wrath—its fire wil scathe thee;
Blight thy youth's freshness as the lightning drinks
The verdure of the oak. Wilt leave the maid?

Ivanhoe.
Shall I be false to gratitude—to love—
To mine own vows?

Cedric.
Wilt not obey me?

Ivanhoe.
My father!

Cedric.
Wilt leave the maiden?

Ivanhoe.
Never.

Cedric.
Henceforth be
A stranger to my home, my heart, my race.
I banish thee for ever—Mark—for ever.
(Exit Cedric.

Ivanhoe.
My father—Stay—He's gone, and will not hear me—
But yet there is good hope—ay, more than hope—
My royal master, Richard—He has pow'r,
And to that pow'r the will to do me service—
A word from him will force my father yield.
No doubts—no fears—I'll join the King,
E'en as he bids me—Fortune, I defy thee.
(Exit Ivanhoe.