University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

A summer apartment in the country, the windows of which look to a forest. Enter Victoria in a hunting dress, followed by Albini and Isabella, speaking as they enter.
Vict.
(to Alb.)
And so you will not share our sport to-day?

Alb.
My days of frolic should ere this be o'er,
But thou, my charge, hast kept me youthful still.
I should most gladly go; but, since the dawn,
A heavy sickness hangs upon my heart;
I cannot hunt to-day.

Vict.
I'll stay at home and nurse thee, dear Albini.

Alb.
No, no, thou shalt not stay.

Vict.
Nay, but I will.
I cannot follow to the cheerful horn,
Whilst thou art sick at home.

Alb.
Not very sick.
Rather than thou shouldst stay, my gentle child,
I'll mount my horse, and go e'en as I am.

Vict.
Nay, then I'll go, and soon return again.
Meanwhile, do thou be careful of thyself.

Isab.
Hark, hark! the shrill horns call us to the field:
Your highness hears it?

[Music without,
Vict.
Yes, my Isabella;
I hear it, and methinks e'en at the sound
I vault already on my leathern seat,
And feel the fiery steed beneath me shake
His mantled sides, and paw the fretted earth;
Whilst I aloft, with gay equestrian grace,
The low salute of gallant lords return,
Who, waiting round with eager watchful eye,
And reined steeds, the happy moment seize.
O! didst thou never hear, my Isabell,
How nobly Basil in the field becomes
His fiery courser's back?

Isab.
They say most gracefully.

Alb.
What, is the valiant count not yet departed?

Vict.
You would not have our gallant Basil go
When I have bid him stay? not so, Albini.

Alb.
Fie! reigns that spirit still so strongly in thee,
Which vainly covets all men's admiration,
And is to others cause of cruel pain?
O! would thou couldst subdue it!

Vict.
My gentle friend, thou shouldst not be severe:
For now in truth I love not admiration
As I was wont to do; in truth I do not.
But yet, this once, my woman's heart excuse,
For there is something strange in this man's love,
I never met before, and I must prove it.

Alb.
Well, prove it then, be stricken too thyself,
And bid sweet peace of mind a sad farewell.

Vict.
O no! that rather will my peace restore:
For after this, all folly of the kind
Will quite insipid and disgusting seem;
And so I shall become a prudent maid,
And passing wise at last.
[Music heard without.
Hark, hark! again!
All good be with you! I'll return ere long.

[Exeunt Victoria and Isabella.
Alb.
(sola.)
Ay, go, and ev'ry blessing with thee go,
My most tormenting and most pleasing charge!
Like vapour from the mountain stream art thou,
Which lightly rises on the morning air,
And shifts its fleeting form with ev'ry breeze,
For ever varying, and for ever graceful.
Endearing, gen'rous, bountiful and kind;
Vain, fanciful, and fond of worthless praise;
Courteous and gentle, proud and magnificent:
And yet these adverse qualities in thee,
No dissonance, nor striking contrast make;
For still thy good and amiable gifts
The sober dignity of virtue wear not,
And such a 'witching mien thy follies show,
They make a very idiot of reproof,
And smile it to disgrace.—
What shall I do with thee?—It grieves me much
To hear Count Basil is not yet departed.
When from the chace he comes, I'll watch his steps,
And speak to him myself.—
O! I could hate her for that poor ambition,
Which silly adoration only claims,
But that I well remember in my youth
I felt the like — I did not feel it long:
I tore it soon indignant from my breast,
As that which did degrade a noble mind.

[Exit.