University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

An apartment in the ducal castle.
The Duke and Thorwald.
Duke.
Let them be married: give to Adalmar
The sweet society of woman's soul,
As we impregnate damask swords with odour
Pressed from young flowers' bosoms, so to sweeten
And purify war's lightning. For the other,
Who catches love by eyes, the court has stars,
That will take up in his tempestuous bosom
The shining place she leaves.

Thorw.
It shall be done:
The bell, that will ring merrily for their bridal,
Has but few hours to score first.

Duke.
Good. I have seen too
Our ripe rebellion's ringleaders. They meet
By moonrise; with them I: to-night will be
Fiends' jubilee, with heaven's spy among them.
What else was't that you asked?

Thorw.
The melancholy lady you brought with you?

Duke.
Thorwald, I fear her's is a broken heart.
When first I met her in the Egyptian prison,
She was the rosy morning of a woman;
Beauty was rising, but the starry grace
Of a calm childhood might be seen in her.
But since the death of Wolfram, who fell there,
Heaven and one single soul only know how,
I have not dared to look upon her sorrow.

Thorw.
Methinks she's too unearthly beautiful.
Old as I am, I cannot look at her,
And hear her voice, that touches the heart's core,
Without a dread that she will fade o' th' instant.
There's too much heaven in her: oft it rises,
And, pouring out about the lovely earth,
Almost dissolves it. She is tender too;
And melancholy is the sweet pale smile,
With which she gently doth reproach her fortune.

Duke.
What ladies tend her?

Thorw.
My Amala; she will not often see
One of the others.

Duke.
Too much solitude
Maintains her in this grief. I will look to't
Hereafter; for the present I've enough.
We must not meet again before to-morrow.

Thorw.
I may have something to report . . .

Duke.
Ho! Ziba.

Enter Ziba.
Ziba.
Lord of my life!

Duke.
I bought this man of Afric from an Arab,
Under the shadow of a pyramid,
For many jewels. He hath skill in language;
And knowledge is in him root, flower, and fruit,
A palm with winged imagination in it,
Whose roots stretch even underneath the grave,
And on them hangs a lamp of magic science
In his soul's deepest mine, where folded thoughts
Lie sleeping on the tombs of magi dead:
So said his master when he parted with him.
I know him skilful, faithful: take him with you;
He's fit for many services.

Thorw.
I'll try him:
Wilt thou be faithful, Moor?

Ziba.
As soul to body.

Thorw.
Then follow me. Farewell, my noble pilgrim.

[Exeunt Thorwald and Ziba.
Duke.
It was a fascination, near to madness,
Which held me subjugated to that maiden.
Why do I now so coldly speak of her,
When there is nought between us? O! there is,
A deed as black as the old towers of Hell.
But hence! thou torturing weakness of remorse;
'Tis time when I am dead to think on that:
Yet my sun shines; so courage, heart, cheer up:
Who should be merrier than a secret villain?

[Exit.