University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

A Superb Antichamber.
Enter RATIBOR, and to him IDA.
IDA.
Sir, your attendant signified your pleasure,
I should thus come before you.

RATIBOR.
Not so, fair one.
He did my thoughts injustice, if his tongue
Gave to request the language of command;
For I am here the suppliant.

IDA.
My Lord!

RATIBOR.
O chace that wint'ry scowl of cold reserve,
It ill requites the fervour of a lover.
When last we met, I ventur'd to present
A hint for your mature consideration—
Shall I be more explicit now?

IDA.
It needs not.
On such a theme I cannot, will not listen;
I beg I may return—my aid within,
By this is wanted.

RATIBOR.
Stay, for I command you.

IDA.
Command! am I awake? Is this the Palace?

RATIBOR.
Off with this flimzy veil of admiration.
Hear me speak plainly—Your ear may not be tun'd
To accents ruder than a traitor whispers;
Your gallant lover, the guilt-spotted Herman.

IDA.
And dost thou dare to talk to me of treason?
Thou whose dark soul—but I forbear thy portrait.
He is too amiable for thy endurance—
Too near a crown not to alarm thy envy.

RATIBOR.
Am I thus brav'd, and for a vile assassin?

IDA.
O, that he had thee in some desert wild,
Without one bravo's sword to shelter thee!
Where the keen vulture waited for the vanquish'd,
To prove upon thy heart the sland'rous falsehood!

RATIBOR.
Truce with this high heroic flight, and mark me.
His life is in my power, and you may save it.

IDA.
O teach me how, and though thou hast ensnar'd him,
I will endeavour to forget the wrong,
And honour thee for mercy shewn at last.
Behold, I kneel and supplicate your pity.
Youth may have led me too precipitately—

RATIBOR.
Who triumphs now? Arise, and hear the terms,
The only terms, on which I deign to save him.
Teach thy coy charms compliance with my will—

IDA.
Not for the wealth of worlds.

RATIBOR.
The villain dies.

IDA.
Inhuman! is this love? Behold my transports!
Feast on the agonies that shake this frame,
And glut thee with my groans.—Curs'd be my tongue
For the mean supplication it has fram'd!
No, I will not implore. Possess me now
The black and silent horror of despair.

RATIBOR.
Fantastic, changeful sex! in mad extremes
By boiling passions still to tempest tost;
And the light shallow bark of reason flung
At random o'er the waves, engulph'd and sunk.
I half disdain the prize I will atchieve.

Enter ULRIC.
My Lord, pardon, I pray, this bold intrusion.
Herman has in the night escap'd from prison.

IDA.
Hah!

RATIBOR.
Let pursuit be made—stay, no, retire.

[Exit Ulric.
IDA.
Now monster, I defy thee—He will meet
His judges in the perfect spirit of truth,
And bring home to thee all thy black delusions.
The hand of Heaven is stretch'd to disappoint thee.

[Exit.
RATIBOR.
One way this flight may serve me. It conveys
A clear presumption, that he dreads a trial,
And furnishes to bold and dextrous heads,
The means to render his defence suspected.
Now to acquaint the Duke of his escape—
His spouse dispatch'd, and Herman in my grasp,
The failure of one blow may be repair'd,
Then minion thou shalt feel me.

[Exit.
Holstein's House.
HOLSTEIN following ELLEN.
HOLSTEIN.
Would I had listen'd to my boding heart,
Nor suffer'd Ida to have left our roof!
Danger surrounds her now in every shape;
That fancy cannot aggravate the peril.

ELLEN.
Speak plainly to my eager apprehensions.
What menaces my child? Dear Sir, inform me.

HOLSTEIN.
I have been listening to such things, my Ellen,
That a wild chaos overpowers all thought.
The Prince, our Herman, now is close confin'd,
Suspected to have been the vile assassin,
Who, arm'd, assail'd the Duke within the wood.

ELLEN.
O, he is innocent. I would be bold
To hazard even salvation on his truth.

HOLSTEIN.
I think no less—but truth may be betray'd,
And innocence by foul insidious arts
Wear the apparent garb of guilt. Yet worse,
To his accuser, Ratibor, the Duke
Consigns the charge of bringing him to judgment.

ELLEN.
The gracious Prince himself—

HOLSTEIN.
Is one engross'd
And swallowed up by grief—silent he sits
By the pale spectre of his wedded joy,
And trembles like the Flamen, who beheld
The sacred flame but glimmering to expire.

ELLEN.
All power then rests in Ratibor, his brother.

HOLSTEIN.
Yes, and the knavish herd have found the fact.
Their hypocritic sympathy with grief,
Pass but the door that bounds the royal presence,
Is chang'd to smiles and bows, that silent speak
A lesson to the greatness which they flatter.

ELLEN.
But see, one comes in haste; the Prince, 'tis Herman.

Enter HERMAN.
Are we alone, good friends, quite unobserv'd?
I would not subject those I love to censure
For the kind shelter which I must implore.

HOLSTEIN.
You are quite private; and command your servant;
This caution, Sir, informs us you have fled—

HERMAN.
Not from the judgment, but the assassin's dagger.
I had remain'd a thoughtless sacrifice,
But clear conviction from your Ida's tongue
Taught me the peril, urg'd me to escape—
With patient effort I unfix'd the bars
That grated the high window of the dungeon,
And by the aid of a strong coil of rope,
Which from a rack I took within the cell,
Descended to the base—the fosse was dry;
Night and the silence of my lonely work
Eluded the high centry's cold observance,
And I arriv'd, I think, by all unnoted.

HOLSTEIN.
What is your object, Prince?

HERMAN.
To wait citation.
When the dark summons of the secret judges,
Calls me to answer for imagin'd treason,
Immediately I will present myself
And hurl confusion upon Ratibor—
Till then I must request your house's shelter.

ELLEN.
I will myself prepare for your concealment;
And, while you stay, attend alone upon you.
My heart bleeds for you, in this dreadful business.

HERMAN.
Grieve not thus over-much the proof of virtue.
The faithless bark, whose planks are rotted through,
Sinks at the first rude buffet of the gale:
But the tough timber'd lanch, with heart of oak,
Stems the loud torrent, and repells its surge,
Bearing in billowy triumph for the shore.

[Exeunt.
A Gothic Chapel.
A Statue of Herman's father.
Enter RATIBOR.
This feign'd devotion and continual prayer
Work wonders on dull Grief's credulity.
Sorrow ne'er plucks the napkin from the eye,
To scrutinize for tears, but counts them there,
And numbers sighs of weariness for woe.
How soon our terror lessens!—I who ere while
Shook at the phantoms of my idle brain,
Now plot destruction ev'n before the shrine.
Behold! the frowning front of Herman's father!
How solemn and majestic, how severe!
On me he bends the gaze—of senseless stone—
I'll look on it no more.

Enter a VERGER.
My Lord, a letter.

RATIBOR.
I'm not to be disturb'd. From Badendorff!
'Tis well my gentle friend—I pray you leave me.
[Exit Verger.
Reads.
'Tis well—she sits not near my heart—Soft, soft!
What were it best to do with that gay fugitive,
Herman? I have it—He has broken prison!
That bespeaks guilt—I will forestall his sentence.
What if, without a slow deliberation,
I wrote the secret order for his death,
Pretending to have born it from the judges:
It shall be so.
[He steps to a table and writes.
Stay, who shall execute it?
Ulric, for that I think he favours him
And suffer'd his escape, bound by an oath,
Which even demons shudder when they hear,
I'll punish by entrusting with the charge.
By my appointment he should now be here.
And see, he comes—Up paper for the present—

Enter ULRIC.
My Lord, in strict obedience to your will,
I come to learn your pleasure and perform it.

RATIBOR.
I look'd, Sir, for no less—Do I not know thee,
Most zealously attach'd to the Tribunal,
So that, whate'er its high decrees enjoin'd,
Thou would'st perform the bidding!

ULRIC.
Gracious Sir,
I hope no act of mine has made it needful
Thus to remind me of my obligations.

RATIBOR.
Not absolutely so—But this we think:
The mere indifferent act of punishment,
When blood or friendship suffer not the blow,
Asks little resolution from the agent;
But, when it menaces a breast beloved,
The fortitude that strikes is strong indeed.

ULRIC.
Your solemn preparation teaches me
My heart must suffer by the present duty.

RATIBOR.
The traitor Herman is adjudg'd to die—
A sentence from the secret Judges dooms him,
And you are fix'd upon to execute it.

ULRIC.
If ever I found favour in your sight,
Spare me, dread Sir, the horror of the task!
I lov'd him as a brother—We were bred
In the same school of youthful exercise,
And he has heap'd his friendship on my head—

RATIBOR.
There is no remedy—Thy hand must strike him.

ULRIC.
O bid me rather plunge th'accursed steel
In my own bosom—'twill be mercy in you,
Compar'd with murderous ingratitude.

RATIBOR.
Think of your oath—The associate among us,
Who even spares the bosom which has rear'd him,
Is perdurably damn'd. Think that the fiends,
Who wait for perjur'd souls, are hovering round
To disappoint the justice we are sworn to.

ULRIC.
O miserable state!

RATIBOR.
I tell thee, Ulric,
That were the silver'd head ev'n of a parent
Condemned to fall, these hands could execute,
Though nature shriek'd at the tremendous deed.
[a piercing shriek without.]
Hah! (shuddering)
what sea of blood rises before me!
While through the crimson waves a phantom glides
In threat'ning horror!—Lo! it is my sister—
O shield me Ulric from her frown. Hide, hide me,

[clings to his bosom.]
ULRIC.
Your fancy, labouring on a dreadful theme,
Presents this image of reality.

RATIBOR.
How, did it feign that shriek too?

ULRIC.
No, my Lord.
But I much fear it spoke, I heard it plainly,
Your sister dead. It came from her attendants.

RATIBOR.
O, true—tis very like, indeed, good Ulric.
I shall subdue this fanciful delirium,
And teach my grief the natural flow of sorrow.
The Duke, my brother, comes—his look confirms it.
Here, Ulric, take the warrant, and be firm.
[He gives him the letter of Badendorff instead of the sentence.]
When next I meet you at the secret court.
Thy lifted dagger tells me he is dead.

ULRIC.
(aside)
It is resolv'd; that way alone is left me.

[Exit Ulric, in great disorder.
Enter WIRTEMBERG.
O, whither shall I bear this bulk of grief,
Where find a med'cine to my great affliction?
Brother, she's gone, my wife is flown for ever,
And but the dregs of life remain behind!

RATIBOR.
O say not so, dear Sir.

WIRTEMBERG.
Even in my arms
Her quiet spirit from its feeble dwelling
Aspir'd to Heav'n—I clasp'd the gentle earth,
Till all the fervour given by pain grew cold,
Its icy clasp at length struck to my heart—
I shudder'd and withdrew.

RATIBOR.
Have her physicians
Pronounc'd the latent cause of her decease.

WIRTEMBERG.
How can I whisper to thy generous ear
What my enquiry learn'd! that Badendorff,
In the low sullen tone of horror, hinted
His fears of poison.

RATIBOR.
Ah, my mind misgives me!
Some curs'd accomplice of that murderous slave.

WIRTEMBERG.
Dear spirit, yes—Be this thy meed of sorrow,
The eager vengeance upon thy assassins.
Give instant orders to examine strictly
All her attendants—Send them to the rack!
Find but the wretch, and give her to my fury.

RATIBOR.
With winged speed.—Now to consummate all.

[Exeunt.