University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—Interior of the Church of St Sophia.
Baldwin, Doge, Flemish and Venetian Lords.
Bald.
He seems resolved to put thy love to test.

Doge.
He shall be here anon; then must I blame
These glimmering eyes that show me not the bride
Of one I love.

Enter Montferrat.
Montf.
Is Montmorency come?

Bald.
We are not far from thinking he presumes
Too much upon our care.

Montf.
Has no one seen him?
All is not well then; all's not right, I fear:
For as I came I saw some of our Lords
Hurry along: I heard some cry a boat:—
And they look'd anxiously—they never mark'd me.
Let us wait but a moment, we shall hear—
Here comes himself.

Enter Montmorency, his head bare.
Bald.
Where is thy bride?

Montm.
No more of that—'tis dead.—

(waving his hand.)
Bald.
My lord, you know we wait.

Montm.
But wait no longer;
For she hath gone upon some summer jaunt.
Ha! thou old prince? I've lost my virgin bride.
Pardon, my Lords of Venice and of Flanders,
Are ye not all met for me? Forget the cause.
Where is Mont—

Montf.
Say Montferrat; he is here,
Glad could he have thine ear.

Montm.
All plagues have come on me at once:—adieu
High Doge, and all.—What shall I say to thee,
My friend Montferrat?
(Exit Montm.

Doge.
Our first war is over:
Things have gone well—but bitter still with sweet.
All friends must part—

Montf.
But he and I shall never.
(Exit Montf.

Doge.
And each man take his way: even when success
Points honour on the soldier's worn-out cloak,
He treads more heavily than when he went
To face great dangers. Let me now retire,—
I'm griev'd for Montmorency. Farewell all.

Bald.
Adieu, brave prince, and all.

Ven. Lords.
Farewell!

Flem. Lords.
Farewell!

[Exeunt Doge and Venetian Lords.
Bald.
And now my countrymen, our own affairs—
Enter Prince Henry.
Too soon for much success.

P. Henry.
What if I say
Murtzoufle and his power are at thy feet?

Bald.
Where is his person?

P. Henry.
Hold, you have not doubted
Whether 'tis really so, nor wonder'd much
At my success: but it is so indeed.
And he is captive in the dungeon vault
Where lay his victims late. Some troop he rais'd
In the open country; then to old Alexis,
Who during the siege had claim'd imperial power,
Went with his services: and he was hail'd.
The rest is short, as truce of wicked men,
Whose oaths are prologues to their deeper plots.
Whether Alexis hated him as one
More wicked than himself, or put no faith,
From sympathy, in all his promises;—
Or whether, though himself without one hope
Of royalty again, he deem'd it treason,
And would not have another styl'd as he;—
To-day he seiz'd Murtzoufle, gave him up.
And now he's in thy power,

Bald.
And shall to death this night for awful crimes,—
This very night when good men go to sleep.
There's one called Pedro,—

P. Henry.
Noted as one that knew
All men's affairs? His power, no man knew how,
Could sway events of utmost magnitude,
Himself though mean. He is securely lodged.
Philip is with them.

Bald.
He that we dismiss'd?
He must have gone to bid them welcome home,
To gain their patronage. Were there no more?

P. Henry.
Two females likewise, deeply veil'd from sight,
Besides a little eunuch. They implor'd
Not to be brought into Constantinople.
Yielding to their intreaties, I caus'd put them
Ashore on the north side of the Golden Horn.

Bald.
Follow, my lords; our palace-hall shall hear
Our own affairs.

[Exeunt.