University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

A suite of grand apartments, with their wide doors thrown open, lighted up with lamps, and filled with company in masks. Enter several masks, and pass through the first apartment to the other rooms. Then enter Basil in the disguise of a wounded soldier.
Bas.
(alone).
Now am I in the region of delight!
Within the blessed compass of these walls
She is; the gay light of those blazing lamps
Doth shine upon her, and this painted floor
Is with her footsteps press'd. E'en now, perhaps,
Amidst that motley rout she plays her part:
There will I go; she cannot be conceal'd;
For but the flowing of her graceful robe
Will soon betray the lovely form that wears it,
Though in a thousand masks. Ye homely weeds,—
(looking at his habit).
Which half conceal, and half declare my state,
Beneath your kind disguise, O! let me prosper,
And boldly take the privilege ye give:
Follow her mazy steps, crowd by her side;
Thus, near her face my list'ning ear incline,
And feel her soft breath fan my glowing cheek;
Her fair hand seize, yea, press it closely too!
May it not be e'en so? by heav'n it shall!
This once, O! serve me well, and ever after
Ye shall be treasur'd like a monarch's robes;
Lodg'd in my chamber, near my pillow kept;
And oft with midnight lamp I'll visit ye,
And gazing wistfully, this night recall,
With all its past delights. — But yonder moves
A slender form, dress'd in an azure robe;
It moves not like the rest — it must be she!

[Goes hastily into another apartment, and mixes with the masks.
Enter Rosinberg, fantastically dressed, with a willow upon his head, and scraps of sonnets and torn letters fluttering round his neck, pursued by a group of masks from one of the inner apartments, who hoot at him, and push him about as he enters.
1st Mask.
Away, thou art a saucy jeering knave,
And fain wouldst make a jest of all true love.

Ros.
Nay, gentle ladies, do not buffet me:
I am a right true servant of the fair;
And as this woeful chaplet on my brow,
And these tear-blotted sonnets would denote,
A poor abandon'd lover out of place;
With any lady ready to engage,
Who will enlist me in her loving service.
Of a convenient kind my talents are,
And to all various humours may be shap'd.

2nd Mask.
What canst thou do?

3d Mask.
Ay, what besides offending?

Ros.
O! I can sigh so deeply, look so sad;
Pule out a piteous tale on bended knee;
Groan like a ghost; so very wretched be,
As would delight a tender lady's heart
But to behold.

1st Mask.
Pooh, pooh, insipid fool!

Ros.
But should my lady brisker mettle own,
And tire of all those gentle dear delights,
Such pretty little quarrels I'd invent—
As whether such a fair one (some dear friend)
Whose squirrel's tail was pinch'd, or the soft maid,
With fav'rite lap-dog of a surfeit sick,
Have greatest cause of delicate distress:
Or whether—

1st Mask.
Go, thou art too bad indeed— (aside).

How could he know I quarrell'd with the Count?

2nd Mask.
Wilt thou do nothing for thy lady's fame?

Ros.
Yes, lovely shepherdess, on ev'ry tree
I'll carve her name, with true-love garlands bound:
Write madrigals upon her roseate cheeks;
Odes to her eye; 'faith, ev'ry wart and mole
That spots her snowy skin, shall have its sonnet!
I'll make love-posies for her thimble's edge,
Rather than please her not.

3d Mask.
But for her sake what dangers wilt thou brave?

Ros.
In truth, fair nun, I stomach dangers less
Than other service, and were something loath
To storm a convent's walls for one dear glance;
But if she'll wisely manage this alone,
As maids have done, come o'er the wall herself,
And meet me fairly on the open plain,
I will engage her tender steps to aid
In all annoyance of rude briar or stone,
Or crossing rill, some half-foot wide, or so,
Which that fair lady should unaided pass,
Ye gracious pow'rs, forbid! I will defend
Against each hideous fly, whose dreadful buzz —

4th Mask.
Such paltry service suits thee best indeed.
What maid of spirit would not spurn thee from her?

Ros.
Yes, to recall me soon, sublime Sultana!
For I can stand the burst of female passion,
Each change of humour and affected storm,
Be scolded, frown'd upon, to exile sent,
Recall'd, caress'd, chid, and disgrac'd again;
And say what maid of spirit would forego
The bliss of one to exercise it thus?
O! I can bear ill treatment like a lamb!—

4th Mask
(beating him).
Well, bear it then, thou hast deserv'd it well.

Ros.
Zounds, lady! do not give such heavy blows;
I'm not your husband, as belike you guess.

5th Mask.
Come, lover, I enlist thee for my swain;
Therefore, good lady, do forbear your blows,
Nor thus assume my rights.

Ros.
Agreed. Wilt thou a gracious mistress prove?

5th Mask.
Such as thou wouldst, such as thy genius suits;
For since of universal scope it is,
All women's humour shalt thou find in me.
I'll gently soothe thee with such winning smiles—
To nothing sink thee with a scornful frown:
Teaze thee with peevish and affected freaks;
Caress thee, love thee, hate thee, break thy pate;
But still between the whiles I'll careful be,
In feigned admiration of thy parts,
Thy shape, thy manners, or thy graceful mien,
To bind thy giddy soul with flatt'ry's charm;
For well thou knowst that flatt'ry ever is
The tickling spice, the pungent seasoning
Which makes this motley dish of monstrous scraps
So pleasing to the dainty lover's taste.
Thou canst not leave, though violent in extreme,
And most vexatious in her teazing moods,
Thou canst not leave the fond admiring soul,
Who did declare, when calmer reason rul'd,
Thou hadst a pretty leg.

Ros.
Marry, thou hast the better of me there.

5th Mask.
And more! I'll pledge to thee my honest word,
That when your noble swainship shall bestow
More faithful homage on the simple maid,
Who loves you with sincerity and truth,
Than on the changeful and capricious tyrant,
Who mocking leads you like a trammell'd ass,
My studied woman's wiles I'll lay aside,
And such an one become.

Ros.
Well said, brave lady, I will follow thee.
[Follows her to the corner of the stage.
Now on my life these ears of mine I'd give,
To have but one look of that little face,
Where such a biting tongue doth hold its court
To keep the fools in awe. Nay, nay, unmask:
I'm sure thou hast a pair of wicked eyes,
A short and saucy nose; now pri'thee do.

[Unmasking.
Alb.
(unmasking).
Well, hast thou guess'd me right?

Ros.
(bowing low).
Wild freedom, chang'd to most profound respect,
Doth make an awkward booby of me now.

Alb.
I've joined your frolic with a good intent,
For much I wish'd to gain your private ear.
The time is precious, and I must be short.

Ros.
On me thy slightest word more pow'r will have,
Most honour'd lady, than a conn'd oration.
Thou art the only one of all thy sex,
Who wearst thy years with such a winning grace.
Thou art the more admir'd the more thou fad'st.

Alb.
I thank your lordship for these courteous words;
But to my purpose — You are Basil's friend:
Be friendly to him then, and warn him well
This court to leave, nor be allur'd to stay;
For if he does, there's mischief waits him here
May prove the bane of all his future days.
Remember this, I must no longer stay.
God bless your friend and you: I love you both.

[Exit.
Ros.
(alone).
What may this warning mean? I had my fears.
There's something hatching that I know not of.
I've lost all spirit for this masking now.
[Throwing away his papers and his willows.
Away, ye scraps! I have no need of you.
I would I knew what garment Basil wears:
I watch'd him, yet he did escape my sight;
But I must search again and find him out.

[Exit.
Enter Basil much agitated, with his mask in his hand.
Bas.
In vain I've sought her, follow'd every form
Where aught appear'd of dignity or grace:
I've listen'd to the tone of ev'ry voice;
I've watch'd the entrance of each female mask,
My flutt'ring heart rous'd like a startled hare,
With the imagin'd rustling of her robes,
At ev'ry dame's approach. Deceitful night,
How art thou spent! where are thy promis'd joys?
How much of thee is gone! O spiteful fate!
And yet within the compass of these walls
Somewhere she is, although to me she is not.
Some other eye doth gaze upon her form,
Some other ear doth listen to her voice;
Some happy fav'rite doth enjoy the bliss
My spiteful stars deny.
Disturber of my soul! what veil conceals thee?
What dev'lish spell is o'er this cursed hour?
O! heav'ns and earth, where art thou!

Enter a mask in the dress of a female conjurer.
Mask.
Methinks thou art impatient, valiant soldier:
Thy wound doth gall thee sorely; is it so?

Bas.
Away, away! I cannot fool with thee.

Mask.
I have some potent drugs may ease thy smart.
Where is thy wound? is't here?

[Pointing to the bandage on his arm.
Bas.
Pooh, pooh, begone!
Thou canst do nought—'tis in my head, my heart—
'Tis ev'ry where, where med'cine cannot cure.

Mask.
If wounded in the heart, it is a wound
Which some ungrateful fair one hath inflicted,
And I may conjure something for thy good.

Bas.
Ah! if thou couldst! what, must I fool with thee?

Mask.
Thou must awhile, and be examin'd too.
What kind of woman did the wicked deed?

Bas.
I cannot tell thee. In her presence still
My mind in such a wild delight hath been,
I could not pause to picture out her beauty,
Yet nought of woman e'er was form'd so fair.

Mask.
Art thou a soldier, and no weapon bearst
To send her wound for wound?

Bas.
Alas! she shoots from such a hopeless height,
No dart of mine hath plume to mount so far;
None but a prince may dare.

Mask.
But if thou hast no hope, thou hast no love.

Bas.
I love, and yet in truth I had no hope.
But that she might at least with some good will,
Some gentle pure regard, some secret kindness,
Within her dear remembrance give me place.
This was my all of hope, but it is flown:
For she regards me not: despises, scorns me:
Scorns, I must say it too, a noble heart,
That would have bled for her.
[Mask, discovering herself to be Victoria, by speaking in her true voice.
O! no, she does not.

[Exit hastily in confusion.
Bas.
(stands for a moment riveted to the spot, then holds up both his hands in an ecstacy).
It is herself! it is her blessed self!
O! what a fool am I, that had no power
To follow her, and urge th' advantage on.
Begone, unmanly fears! I must be bold.

[Exit after her.
A dance of masks.
Enter Duke and Gauriecio, unmasked.
Duke.
This revelry, methinks, goes gaily on.
The hour is late, and yet your friend returns not.

Gaur.
He will return ere long — nay, there he comes.

Enter Gentleman.
Duke.
Does all go well?(going close up to him.)


Gent.
All as your grace could wish.
For now the poison works, and the stung soldiers
Rage o'er their cups, and, with fire-kindled eyes,
Swear vengeance on the chief who would betray them.
That Frederic too, the discontented man
Of whom your highness was so lately told,
Swallows the bait, and does his part most bravely.
Gauriecio counsell'd well to keep him blind,
Nor with a bribe attempt him. On my soul!
He is so fiery he had spurn'd us else,
And ruin'd all the plot.

Duke.
Speak softly, friend — I'll hear it all in private.
A gay and careless face we now assume.

[Duke, Gaur. and Gent. retire into the inner apartment, appearing to laugh and talk gaily to the different masks as they pass them.
Re-enter Victoria, followed by Basil.
Vict.
Forbear, my lord; these words offend mine ear.

Bas.
Yet let me but this once, this once offend,
Nor thus with thy displeasure punish me;
And if my words against all prudence sin,
O! hear them, as the good of heart do list
To the wild ravings of a soul distraught

Vict.
If I indeed should listen to thy words,
They must not talk of love.

Bas.
To be with thee, to speak, to hear thee speak,
To claim the soft attention of thine eye,
I'd be content to talk of any thing,
If it were possible to be with thee,
And think of aught but love.

Vict.
I fear, my lord, you have too much presum'd
On those unguarded words, which were in truth
Utter'd at unawares, with little heed,
And urge their meaning far beyond the right.

Bas.
I thought, indeed, that they were kindly meant,
As though thy gentle breast did kindly feel
Some secret pity for my hopeless pain,
And would not pierce with scorn, ungen'rous scorn,
A heart so deeply stricken.

Vict.
So far thou'st read it well.

Bas.
Ha! have I well?
Thou dost not hate me then?

Vict.
My father comes;
He were displeas'd if he should see thee thus.

Bas.
Thou dost not hate me then?

Vict.
Away! he'll be displeas'd — I cannot say—

Bas.
Well, let him come: it is thyself I fear:
For did destruction thunder o'er my head,
By the dread pow'r of heav'n I would not stir
Till thou hadst answer'd my impatient soul!
Thou dost not hate me?

Vict.
Nay, nay, let go thy hold — I cannot hate thee.

[Breaks from him and exit.
Bas.
(alone).
Thou canst not hate me! no, thou canst not hate me!
For I love thee so well, so passing well,
With such o'erflowing heart, so very dearly,
That it were sinful not to pay me back
Some small, some kind return.

Enter Mirando, dressed like Cupid.
Mir.
Bless thee, brave soldier!

Bas.
What sayst thou, pretty child! what playful fair
Has deck'd thee out in this fantastic guise?

Mir.
It was Victoria's self; it was the princess.

Bas.
Thou art her fav'rite then?

Mir
They say I am:
And now, between ourselves, I'll tell thee, soldier,
I think in very truth she loves me well.
Such merry little songs she teaches me—
Sly riddles too, and when I'm laid to rest,
Ofttimes on tip-toe near my couch she steals,
And lifts the cov'ring so, to look upon me.
And oftentimes I feign as though I slept;
For then her warm lips to my cheeks she lays,
And pats me softly with her fair white hands;
And then I laugh, and through mine eye-lids peep,
And then she tickles me, and calls me cheat;
And then we do so laugh, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Bas.
What does she even so, thou happiest child?
And have those rosy cheeks been press'd so dearly?
Delicious urchin! I will kiss thee too.

[Takes him eagerly up in his arms and kisses him.
Mir.
No, let me down, thy kisses are so rough,
So furious rough — she doth not kiss me so.

Bas.
Sweet boy, where is thy chamber? by Victoria's?

Mir.
Hard by her own.

Bas.
Then will I come beneath thy window soon;
And, if I could, some pretty song I'd sing,
To lull thee to thy rest.

Mir.
O no, thou must not! 'tis a frightful place;
It is the church-yard of the neighb'ring dome.
The princess loves it for the lofty trees,
Whose spreading branches shade her chamber walls:
So do not I; for when 'tis dark o'nights,
Goblins howl there, and ghosts rise through the ground.
I hear them many a time when I'm a bed,
And hide beneath the clothes my cow'ring head.
O! is it not a frightful thing, my lord,
To sleep alone i' the dark?

Bas.
Poor harmless child! thy prate is wondrous sweet.

Enter a group of masks.
1st Mask.
What dost thou here, thou little truant boy?
Come play thy part with us.

Masks place Mirando in the middle, and range themselves round him.
SONG.— a glee.

[All the masks dance round Cupid. Then enter a band of satyrs, who frighten away Love and his votaries; and conclude the scene, dancing in a grotesque manner.