 | Otho |  |
SCENE I.
Magnificent hall—bustle—Soldiers—Attendants rushing in, in disorder. Duke walking.Attendants.
Huzza! huzza!
(Enter Prince Irman.)
All.
The Prince! the Prince!—huzza! huzza!
Duke.
My son!—My son!
Ala.
(Throwing herself into his arms)
I knew thou would'st be saved!
Selim.
Yes, yes—I knew he would.
Irman.
(To Ala)
—No, no—thou could'st not know it, love.
Ala.
(Enthusiasm)
—Yes, yes—I did!
He rules the tempest!—death is on his word!
Pri.
He!—who?
Ala.
Otho! Otho!— (He shakes her off in silence)
Pri.
(Significantly)
—Lady! Lady!
Ala.
(with reproachful tenderness)
—My Lord!
Duke.
My son—who rescued thee—
(Enter a figure in complete armour—folds his arms and leans against one of the distant pillars in silence.)
Ir.
A man—
Ala.
(Forgetting herself)
—Young! with a naked arm?
Ir.
No, no—not Otho lady—
Ala.
(Hurt—but unsuspicious)
—A band?—
Ir.
No, no—a man—a single man—alone!
But his blade!—'twas like the bolt of heaven!
(Observes the man in armour and points to him)
Behold him there!— (all turn)
Selim.
Heavens! 'tis Ola come again!
All.
Ola! Lord Ola!
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(In a low voice)
—Is that the man?
Ala.
(Disappointed tone)
—Is that the man?
Not saved by Otho then—
Pri.
Again!—Ala—Ala!—
That spectre is within thy heart, I fear.—
Duke.
Such mighty villains tread upon our necks,
And force us to admire them— (Significantly to Ala.)
Ala.
(Hurriedly)
—Prince Irman!—No, my Lord—
(Emotion—struggling with her feelings.)
No, no, I cannot stoop— (Walks aside disturbed—Irman observing her.)
Duke.
(Looking at Ola)
—His presence throws a chill on all around;
My son—I'd shun such men.—Whence comes he now?
Ir.
Father, we know not—from some distant war—
Some bloody field perhaps—he lives in strife.—
Duke.
(Still keeping his eye on Ola.)
But—to-night!—
Ir.
—Well, father—I was borne along
By Otho's ruffians at their fiercest speed—
When lo!—a harness rung!—And from his barb
Lord Ola bounded, with his sword of light!
I heard his hollow laugh—and I was free!
Duke.
(Musing.)
'Tis wonderful—indeed—and gone for years—
Ir.
No—not for years—a solitary man.—
Duke.
But does his countenance speak fair, my son—
See how his dark plumes nod! His martial frame
Is shaken by a fearful spirit—tell me,
Is his speech dreadful as his laugh?—
Ir.
That face was never seen!
Duke.
Not seen!—You've heard his voice?
Only in battle—'tis a fearful cry!
(Ola stalks away.)
Duke.
(Observing him go out.)
My son! how know ye that he be a knight?
Some ruffian—or a madman—or perhaps—
A leader of some neighbouring horde!—
(A hollow laugh—turns and sees Ola at his elbow.)
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Ala.
(Shuddering)
'Tis scarcely human—
Ir.
(Smiling, and courteously saluting Ola—who nods haughtily.)
Be not alarmed—
—He knows not what we say
He has been tempted oft. To make him hear,
We wake the trumpet—and the neigh of steeds—
The roll of drums—the cannon's bursting peal—
No, no, my father—he's a gallant man
And bears a passport from our king—
(Lord Ola remains in a motionless attitude at his side.)
Duke.
(Faintly—turning a look of doubt towards Ola)
And never saw his eye?—
Pri.
Never!—never!—he is never seen
Except in battle—tournaments—and days
When gallant knights are tilting seriously.
(Ola walks away.)
He comes to this,—my wedding—it would seem—
To make our hearts beat lighter when he's gone;
Like clouds that hide the sunshine, and go by.
Duke.
But why indulge him in such pageantry?
Pri.
In truth I hardly know—his rank—his fame—
The favour of our king—his wretchedness—
Duke.
Ah!— (Looking after him)
—He has a princely step—
Ir.
Yes, he is wratched—for he seeks for death—
And even death avoids him!
(Ola seen again leaning on the pillar.)
But Ala— (Observing him—taking Ala's hand, and leading her to Ola.)
Love,—here thy thanks are due—he rescued me!
Ala.
Lord Ola!— (bowing with great dignity.)
(Ola averts his head—nods—and waves them off.)
Strange man!— (Ala joins the Duke and they walk to the rear of the apartment—he as expostulating with her—An attendant enters—beckons the Prince— whispers something which throws him into great agitation.)
85
Enough!—enough— (attendant going—returns)
Delay the priest awhile—be on thy guard—
And let me know—Observe—
(Exit attendant.)
Just what I feared!—
(looking after Ala.)
—Such hearts are caught
By such stupendous crimes. The blood that stains
Such arms as his, is hidden from the eye
In terrible effulgence.
(Duke and Ala approach.)
Well, well—let her be happy—And for me!
I care not for myself—
Ala.
My prince,—I have a suit before we wed—
Pri.
There's time enough— (carelessly)
—We shall not wed to-night.
Ala.
(In proud astonishment.)
Prince!
Ir.
(Bitterly)
—No, no, my love—
Thou'lt have another night for prayers and dreams—
And holy meditation—
Duke.
Ala!—Lady—O, my son!—my son!
Ir.
(Coldly)
—Father, this boding night is almost spent:
And we (looking at Ala)
want more reflection ere we wed;
For we may be deceived; (earnestly)
—we may not love.
(Observing Ala to tremble.)
Be not alarmed—A brighter day will come—
We'll wed in sunshine, love, and laugh at dreams—
Duke.
(Pointing to Ala—who supports herself with difficulty.)
My son! my son!
Ir.
(Faltering and approaching her)
—Thy suit—
(She averts her head—almost in tears—turns to go— and sinks into the arms of the Duke.)
Father!—Ala!— (catching her from his father's arms)
This is thy pillow, love!—
No other arms shall clasp thy form, alive—
Not even a father's!—O, look up, my love!
Duke.
Leave her to me, my son—
Ir.
(Mournfully)
No, father, no!—for she may die—
86
(Ala opens her eyes—and faintly struggles.)
Ala, awake! (bows upon her hands and weeps)
Ala, forgive me! (She rises—faintly repulses him, and attempts is pass out unsupported—he gazes for a moment on her face—snatches her hand and places it, with a look of intolerable agony, upon his brow.)
No, no.—I cannot be deceived! (drops her hand— Pause—Ala recovers—he fastens his eyes upon her again, and, in his earnestness, drops his hand upon her shoulder.)
That angel eye!—those tears!—O, speak to me!
In mercy speak to me!—O tell me true!
Have I not borne upon thee in my haste?
And urged thee to the altar unprepared?
Consult thy heart—Go to thy chamber, love,
And see if I am dear to thee, indeed—
We must not part—I cannot lose thee now—
Duke.
(In amazement)
My son!
Ir.
Speak to her, father, is she not deceived?
Ala!—I adjure thee—by thy hopes of heaven!
Consult thy heart again in solitude,
And tell me if I'm dear to thee—
Ala.
(Mournfully)
—I need no solitude to answer that.
But—
Ir.
But what!
Ala.
Prince Irman, thou hast wrong my heart—farewell!
It ne'er was wrung before—
(Going.)
Ir.
(Catching her hands and looking at her wildly)
Father—look here!—O, can we be deceived?
Look at that eye!—No, no—it cannot be—
(Transport)
Ala, forgive me, I have wrong'd thee, love—
(Kneeling)
—Forgive me, Ala!—I am mad with fears—
Ala.
(Melancholy wildness.)—
Yes—I forgive thee, Prince—but we must part—
Ir.
(Wildly)
Part. Ala—part!
87
Yes—Irman—I have loved thee much—too much;
For thou hast broken my heart—farewell!—
Pri.
Never!—by heaven!—O, Ala—thou'rt my bride
And shalt be yet the partner of my couch
In life—and death!—
Ala.
(Faintly)
—Here and hereafter!—
Ir.
Aye, Ala, yes!—for sepulture or sleep.
Ala, forgive me—I am mad to-night—
Let not the hasty words of fear outweigh
A life, consumed in offices of love!
I trembled for myself—for thee—I feared
I'd hurried thee too much on such a night.
Ala, forgive me!
(She extends her hand to him)
And now—thy suit, my love?— (Ola re-appears.)
Ala.
Nay, not to-night—
Ir.
Yes, yes—now—this very night—
Ala.
Well then, 'twas this—thou dost not know me yet—
And shall not—till some brighter hour—
I ask of thee to spare the rebel chief;
He is a gallant man!
Ir.
(Catching the Duke's hand)
—Father!—father!
Ala.
(Not regarding his emotion)
To spare stern Otho's life—I owe him much—
Ir.
(Struggles—vehemently)—
I will—'tis done!—Otho is free!—
Ala.
(Taking his hand)
I knew thou would'st—
Ir.
(Disengaging it)
—Enough! enough!—
(Enter the Soldier equipped as a Knight.)
Sol.
My Prince, I owe thee much—A soldier's thanks—
'Tis said—but so!—I dare not hope such things—
'Tis said that Ola has appeared—
(Discovers Ola—unsheathes his sword—and throws himself into an attitude of defiance.)
My Prince!—the spectre has returned—thank heaven!
88
I rise from earth—Dark Ola—we shall meet,
And meet like men—
(Ola walks away)
Ho!—Lord Ola!
Pri.
Madman!—peace.
Sol.
Lord Ola!— (Striding fiercely after him—is reaching his hand out to touch him—when Ola turns suddenly and stands motionless before him.)
Pri.
Sir Knight—Ho, guards!
(Voices heard passing the word “Guards! Guards!”)
This unexpected courtesy would seem,
An ill return, for thy new blazing arms.
Sir Knight—
(Enter Guards.)
(Ola turns toward the Prince and Duke with great majesty, and waves them to depart—the Prince is obeying.)
Duke.
My son!—leave not that aged man alone
To Ola's mercy—
Sol.
(Without taking his eye from Ola)
Oh, leave us!—leave us!
Pri.
I cannot leave him to such certain fate—
Thy arm is terrible in age—but his!
'Tis terrible in youth—
Sol.
Fear not for me!—fear not for me! my Prince—
My withered arm is strung with immortality!
Pri.
He saved my life—
(Ola repeats his motion to be left alone.)
Sol.
And so have I!—I've saved thy life, my Prince—
He wronged me once—is welcome to my life.
Fall one,—or both!—it matters not, to me—
For I shall be at rest—
(Ola repeats the signal impatiently.)
Duke.
Must we leave him then?—Gray headed man!
Sol.
No more!—no more—we've met to fight—
(Ola waves his arm again and advances.)
Pri.
He must be obeyed!—Old man, I'll pray for thee!
89
(Exeunt Prince and Duke.)
Sol.
(Loudly)
—Well, Lord Ola, we have met—for blood—
(Ola nods.)
And we are equals now!— (Ola raises his hand and shakes his head.)
(Bitterly)
No, no!—thou'rt right, mysterious man!—
I wear a face exposed to heaven and earth.—
But thou—enough! (Throwing aside the scabbard.)
—Now Ola, let us meet—
Yet ere we strike, let me once hear thy voice.
But hear it once!
I've never heard it since thy ruffian laugh
Proclaimed thy triumph o'er a bursting heart.
(Pause.)
Dost know me, Lord?—We never part alive—
(Ola calmly unsheaths his sword.)
What,—no reply!—Perhaps thy ruffian blow
Hath humbled me too much—
Well, be it so—we now have met for death—
And— (Stamping)
here!—I am thy equal, Lord, at least.
(They fight. Ola stands on the defence—The Soldier attacks warily at first, and maddens to vehemence as he finds himself constantly foiled—and exposes himself.)
Sol.
(Pausing and striking the earth.)
Curse on my arm!—Art thou impalpable!
(Renews the fight furiously—Ola makes his guards with perfect composure.)
Sol.
Art thou so confident!—What deadly skill!
Thou dost not fear my sword—Lord Ola!—Lord!
O, do not scorn to strike me!—I'm a man!
A soldier too!—I've striven with death—
In battle by thy side!—
I'm not afraid to die— (great emotion.)
—I'm not so old!
My arm is vigorous yet—in mercy, strike!
(Attempts to provoke him in his desperation by exposing his heart.)
O, strike!—in mercy—treat me like a man!
Dread Ola—What a spirit must be thine—
90
Before a gallant troop of helms and spears!
And there!—O meet me, man!—in mercy meet me!
(Ola turns to leave him.)
Here is my bosom—Strike!—I'll worship thee!
O, give me any vengeance—be it death.
(Ola is walking away—the Soldier rushes upon him, with his uplifted sword—Ola turns abruptly and disarms him with a blow—He grasps at Ola's sword—Struggle—He is thrown to the earth—Ola then throws away his sword, which the Soldier snatches up, and raises, as to cut him down— Pauses with his arm uplifted before the unshaken grandeur of his foe, who never lifts a finger in defence.)
Sol.
(Throwing away his sword.)
—I cannot strike!
(Dropping on his knee, and bowing down his head in awe.)
Whoe'er thou art!—dread being, I'm thy slave—
Thy slave for ever!—Soul and body thine!
Whole years have passed, and I have dreamt of thee;
I would have stabbed thee once before; but thou
Didst calmly wrench the dagger from my hand!
And give it back in silence!
I've lived whole years in panting for this hour;
Whole years I've asked of heaven to let us meet;
And then!—for I have seen thy skill in battle—
I felt that I was sure of death, at least—
And that were peace!
We've met!—Oh God,—we've met—and yet I live!
(Increasing agony—rising.)
On thee, dread being!—lie this soldier's curse;
May'st thou be bowed with infamy!
(Ola suddenly puts forth his hands as to avert the prayer.)
With infamy!—O, I have touched thee, man!
(Ola uplifts his sword.)
O strike!—in mercy, strike!—'tis all I ask.
O strike!—And I'll forgive thee all—
(Ola returns it to its sheath.)
91
(Unbuckling his harness.)
Lie there, dishonoured furniture!
Lie there, my baffled weapon!
(Throwing down his sword.)
—I had hoped
To bear thee with me to my home—to-night—
But we must part!—farewell!—I'm now a slave—
And thou would'st never hang on such a thigh.
(Ola remains immoveable.)
O, canst thou be a man?—canst thou enjoy
The agony of such a scene as this?
The parting of a vet'ran from his blade!
O, God!—that I might pour mine aged blood
In expiation here!—with mine own hand—
But no—I dare not—I'm but a slave.
(Pause.)
—Thou art the first that foiled me—I am low—
Trod to the earth—have sought thy life in vain.—
I have walked proudly in the battle's van;—
Have heard my banners floating loud above;—
Have heard!—O heaven!—but that is done;—all done!
I am thy slave forever!
(Falls prostrate—enter Duke and Prince—Ola goes out on the opposite side with a martial step.)
Duke.
Lord Ola!
Pri.
Nay father—he will not reply to thee—
His silence is the grave's—
(To the soldier.)
—Art thou avenged?
Sol.
(gloomily.)
—We've fought—and I'm his slave—
Duke.
His slave!
Sol.
Yes, yes,—his slave!
Never again to wield a gallant blade
In honourable strife—no, never!
Here have I met him—here!—and after years
Of preparation, in the ranks of war,
I prayed to meet him, once!—my prayer was heard.
We met—and here, on this dark spot—for death—
And I have striven with him in my might—
And he!—he scarcely deign'd to stretch his arm!
92
Amid the night of battle!—I, whose blade
Hath pass'd thro' ranks of thick opposing helms,
When now, I strove with him for life and death,
Was calmly foil'd in play!
While I put forth my whole collected strength,
In desperation—to achieve my wish—
And laid my bosom naked to his blade—
And sought for death—he never deign'd to strike!
I would have given my soul to touch his heart—
To touch it once!—but no—
It might not be—And now I am his slave.
There is my badge of knighthood!
(Throwing it down.)
I abjure it all.—The trumpet and the steed!
The morning summons to the bursting strife!
The roll of battle!—honour!—glory!—same!
And now my aged locks shall bow and nod,
Whene'er he shakes his plumes, as if the Thunderer spoke.
(Exit.)
Duke.
(shuddering)
What a dreadful man!
Pri.
His sword is lightning:—father,—go with me,
I'm troubled.
(Exeunt.)
| Otho | |