University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Almachilde, Romilda.
Al.
... Ah pardon me, if perhaps inopportunely
I dared to ask of thee in this thy threshold
A transient audience; but to prove to thee
How thoroughly my heart doth disavow
The cruelty of thy malignant step-mother,
Is of deep import to my bosom's peace.

Rom.
And shall I trust thee? Ah! if this were true! ...
But what, am I so wretched that I ought
To owe the smallest solace to thy bounty? ...
Oh my hard fate! I am, alas! too wretched!—
From these abominable marriage rites
Ah do thou respite me; and I perchance
To thee shall owe my peace.

Al.
Far more than this,
Far more, I'm ready to perform for thee ...
The prey of Alaric thou, by whom we've seen
Two wives already slain; one by the sword,
The next by poison? Thou, oh Heaven, design'd
Of every virtue, each accomplishment
To be the recompense; and who couldst make
Every man happy only by thy presence!—
—Ah, no; this, while I breathe, shall never be!
E'en if thou wished'st it, I would prevent it:
Infer from thence, if I will suffer it,
When unexampled violence is doom'd
To drag thee there. First arguments and prayers,
Then shall Rosmunda witness menaces,
And lastly deeds. And if I cannot win her,
She shall be wrested from the monstrous project.
There lives not one more ardent in the cause
Of thy defence than I: or thou shalt spend
Thy days within these walls, or I will lose
My kingdom with my life.

Rom.
And wherefore thus
Generous art thou towards me?

Al.
I never felt
Torment more exquisite from any cause
Than from thy hate.

Rom.
But can I ever cease
To hate thee? In indignant menaces
My unavenged father ...

Al.
What sayst thou?
I kill'd him not: Rosmunda murder'd him ...

Rom.
All are convinced that, by her menaces,
Thou to the horrid treachery wert compell'd:
But yet the alternative 'twixt thy own death,
Or of inflicting death upon thy king,
She gave to thee. 'Tis true, that thou already,
Ignorant thyself of the dire stratagem,
Hadst stain'd thy monarch's bed; but with thy blood,
And with the blood of thy immodest mistress,
Thou wert required to wash out such a stain;
That was the sole atonement for thy crime:
But thou dar'dst make atonement with a crime
Of a far deeper dye. That death which thou
Gavest another, to thyself was due:
Yet thou still sleepest in the injured bed;
A subject thou, the consort of thy king,
And the usurp'd and blood-besprinkled throne
Thou keepest still; and, doing this, dar'st thou
Boast of thy noble heart? speak of kind deeds?
And dost thou hope that I should trust to thee?
And dar'st thou hope that I should hate thee less?—
Portentous, melancholy as they are,
Let me no more from the everlasting night
Of silence such remembrances recall:
I may suppress them when I hear thee not.—
Rescue me now from this extreme distress,
And perhaps thou mayst appear to me my saviour.
But, if I think of thee, what art thou else
To me except the murderer of my father?

Al.
Must then my tears, my penitence, remorse,
Avail me nothing?

Rom.
To this subject now
Wherefore direct thy thoughts? Can I hurt thee?
What signifies to thee my enmity?
The powerless daughter of a murder'd king,
What profits it to flatter her?

Al.
To fail
Is human; but contrition for a fault
Distinguishes the virtuous from the wicked.
Thou canst not know the anguish of my heart;
Ah, if thou knew'st it!—From the day I weep,
That I became the inhabitant of these
Lugubrious walls, where always I behold thee
Immersed in tears; yet thou at once art seen
Mild in thy anger, modest in thy grief,
In suffering magnanimous ... What heart
Is there so hard that doth not feel for thee
Emotions of compassion?

Rom.
Thy compassion!
'Tis too humiliating for me to bear it ...
Yet ah, my destiny ... I am not able
Entirely to despise it.

Al.
Ere that aught
Which I can do challenge thy gratitude,
Say, is it that he is accounted cruel,
The only cause of thy antipathy
To Alaric?

Rom.
And Alboino's daughter,
Doth she not, in accepting thy assistance,
Betray herself sufficiently? Wilt thou
Also that she participate with thee
The secrets of her heart?

Al.
There then exists
With thee a motive for reserve towards me?
Perhaps thus the means of an effectual aid ...

Rom.
And if there were another? ... But thou art ...
What saidst thou?—Hitherto I here have lived,
And here 'twould sooth me by my father's side
To share his tomb: art thou not satisfied?
All my thoughts now are centred in the grave;
But death to me would be more welcome here:
Hence this I ask from you, to you a light,
But to myself a most important gift.

Al.
Death! Ah, Romilda! I to thee repeat it,
Here shalt thou have a cheerful dwelling place;
And more I say to thee, I hope to see thee
Here reinstated in thy usurped rights.
I can, if not thy sire, thy throne restore;
I ought to do it, and I will; and I
Will make thee, by no doubtful proofs, behold
The bias of my heart ... how deeply there ...
Nay how indelibly ... I bear impress'd ...
Thy image ...

Rom.
What is this I hear? Alas!
What looks! ... What meanest thou to say to me?

Al.
... That which I cannot how conceal from thee ...
That which thou mayest on my trembling face
Now read engraved ... I burn, and long I've burned
With love ... for thee.

Rom.
What dar'st thou to confess?
Oh cruel destiny! hast thou reserved me
For such an outrage?

Al.
If thou dost esteem
My love an outrage, I have ample means
Myself to punish ...

Rom.
Ah, thou wretch! dared'st thou
Colour with virtue thy atrocious passion?

Al.
Alas! ... Oh hear me ... criminal desires ...
But criminal effects thou ne'er shalt see ...
For thee I will do all; but from thyself
I demand nothing.

Rom.
Peace. Shall thou, defiled
Still with my father's blood, name love to me?
Thou love to me!—thou art Rosmunda's spouse,
And of no other worthy.

Al.
Ah! what name
Of execration do I not deserve! ...
Yet that I love thee is my destiny,
Inevitable destiny; and never,
Never will I this prostrate posture quit,
If first ...

Rom.
Arise, be silent, and depart ...
But here comes one who quickly will extinguish
A flame like this ...

Al.
Who is it I behold?