 | The Czar |  |
SCENE I.
The Prison.Ottokesa discovered in the Cell.—Olaria, on the front ground, with an Attendant.
OLARIA.
Alas! ill-fated Queen!—lo! where she lies
In yon drear cell!—sad spectacle of woe!
When will her sufferings cease?
Sometimes I've hopes that a refreshing sleep
Might yet alleviate,—and then again,
When the wind murmurs through these hollow vaults,
I think she has breathed her last.—What noise is that?
Hark! sure some hasty steps!—my friend retire—
And wait awhile without.
Enter Catharine, veiled.
Ah! who art thou,
That look'st so like a sister of affliction?
CATHARINE.
A very wretch, who from the height of bliss
Am plung'd into despair.—Where is the Queen?
OLARIA.
Behold her in yon dungeon!—Misery like hers
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And make it own its crimes.—See her approach!
OTTOKESA.
Whence this intrusion?—
I thought that sorrow's mansions were held sacred:—
Indeed I'm wretched;—why at my last sad hour
Com'st thou to eye my woes?
CATHARINE.
Not to eye alone;
To feel, to share, to pity,—to redress them.
OTTOKESA.
That's now beyond the utmost reach of art;
A few short moments bear my child to fate,
Nor shall I long survive.
CATHARINE.
Perhaps not all
Are deaf to your complaints;—declare to me
Whom most you do suspect; I yet may clear
Your injur'd innocence.
OTTOKESA.
A blooming bride,
A fatal fair, who steals unwary hearts,
Whose beauty makes my crimes, while a fell slave,
To aggrandize himself, stamps deep the ruin.
CATHARINE.
Lives there a wretch so vile to forge such crimes,
And brand a guiltless name?
OTTOKESA.
Yes,—Artamon.
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Ah! say'st thou—Artamon?
OTTOKESA.
Yes, he alone
Has blown these fires betwixt the Czar and me.
CATHARINE.
Could Artamon alone assert your guilt,
Could Artamon destroy your spotless fame,
Could he thus urge the bolts of angry Heaven,
And stalk in stern defiance?
OTTOKESA.
Yes, he,—that wretch;
He watches every weakness of the Czar;
Guilt made by him is fate.
CATHARINE.
Could Artamon?—
OTTOKESA.
What means this iteration of his name?
Ere from Pultowa's siege the credulous Czar
Came flush'd with conquest,—then this serpent sow'd
The seed of doubt in his once faithful breast;
A fatal seed it is,—tho' small its birth,
Yet in a fruitful soil it soon will spread,
And poison all beneath its baneful branches.
CATHARINE.
You say that Artamon forced up this plant;—
Excuse my freedom, Queen, but know hereafter
This may unravel to the Czar a tale,
A wondrous tale,
That may redress and save you.
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Never! never!
Love has escaped his breast,—I've wearied him;
Another there has fix'd the seat of empire
On Ottokesa's ruin.
CATHARINE.
But let me plead!
OTTOKESA.
I guess you come from Catharine;—tell the Queen
I ask not for myself,—'tis now too late;
But if she will entreat to save my child,
I'll die, and yield forgiveness.
CATHARINE.
I seize the gift—
A gift that Heaven imparts to cheer my soul
In my life-weary path—important gift—
I am—I am that Queen.
[Kneels, and seizes Ottokesa's hand, throwing up her veil.
OTTOKESA.
You much amaze me.
CATHARINE.
Indeed I'm innocent of all your wrongs,—
Indeed I am;—I cannot tell you now;
Time presses on us, and your son's in danger;—
Go to the Czar,—plead there your injur'd fame,
Strain every power that may reclaim his heart,
I'll fly before, and urge him to compliance;—
Though death lay arm'd to bar me—I'll entreat,—
I'll be myself the sacrifice, and cheerful take
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[Exit Catharine.
OTTOKESA.
I fear I've been too hasty;—pardon, Heaven!
Pardon, that lost in thy mysterious ways
I've dared arraign thy justice,—perhaps e'en now,
Tho' to the sickly eye of deep despair
My woes were past redress,—e'en now perhaps
Thy mercy meant to save me;—if 'twere so
I've been indeed a wretch;—I then am guilty.
| The Czar | |