University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—AN APARTMENT IN THE CHATEAU-DE-FOIX.
Enter Francis and Florise.
FRANCIS.
I tell thee, ere she see the Count Laval,
I must inform her of mine errand.

FLORISE.
Well—
I had forgot, in all this sudden joy:
But see, behind the tapestry, here, you may
Wait for, and speak with her.

FRANCIS.
I thank thee, maiden.

FLORISE.
Farewell, and good success attend you, sir.

[Exit Florise. Francis conceals himself behind the tapestry.
Enter Françoise.
FRANÇOISE.
Now, ye paternal halls, that frown on me,
Down, down, and hide me in your ruins—ha!

(As Laval and Gonzales enter, Françoise shrieks.)
LAVAL.
My bride!—my beautiful!—

GONZALES.
Stand back, young sir!

LAVAL.
Who dares extend his arms 'twixt those whom love
Hath bound? whom holy wedlock shall, ere long.

GONZALES.
The stern decree of the most holy church,
Whose garb I bear; and whose authority
I interpose between you; until I
Interpret to your ears the fearful shriek
That greeted you, upon your entrance here:
Look on that lady, Count Laval,—who stands
Pale as a virgin rose, whose early bloom
Hath not been gaz'd on yet by the hot sun;
And fair—

LAVAL.
Oh, how unutterably fair!

GONZALES.
Seems not that shrinking flower the soul of all
That is most pure, as well as beautiful?

LAVAL.
Peace, thou vain babbler! Is it unto me
That thou art prating?—unto me, who have
Worshipp'd her, with a wild idolatry,
Liker to madness than to love?

GONZALES.
Indeed!
Say, then, if such a show of chastity
Ere sat on lips that have been hot with passion?
Or such a pale cold hue did ever rest
On cheeks, where burning kisses have call'd up
The crimson blood, in blushes all as warm?
Look on her yet; and say, if ever form
Show'd half so like a breathing piece of marble.
Off with thy specious seeming, thou deceiver!
And don a look that better suits thy state.
Oh, well-dissembled sin! say, was it thus,
Shrinking, and pale, thou stood'st, when the King's arms
Did clasp thee, and his hot lip sear'd from thine
Their oath to wed thy brother's friend?—

LAVAL.
Damnation
Alight upon thee, thou audacious monk!
The blight thou breath'st recoil on thine own head;
It hath no power to touch the spotless fame
Of one, from whom thy cursed calumnies
Fly like rebounding shafts;—Ha! ha! ha! ha!
The king! a merry tale forsooth!

GONZALES.
Then we
Will laugh at it, ha! ha!—why, what care I?
We will be merry; since thou art content
To laugh and be a—

LAVAL.
Françoise—I—I pray thee
Speak to me,—smile—speak,—look on me, I say—
What, tears! what, wring thine hands! what, pale as death!—
And not one word—not one!

FRANÇOISE.
(To Gonzales)
Oh deadly fiend!
Thou hast but hasten'd that which was foredoom'd.
(To Laval)
My lord, ere I make answer to this charge,
I have a boon to crave of you—my brother—

LAVAL.
How wildly thine eye rolls; thy hand is cold
As death, my fairest love.

FRANÇOISE.
Beseech you, sir,
Unclasp your arm;—where is my brother?

LAVAL.
Lautrec?—
In Italy; ere now is well and happy.

FRANÇOISE.
Thanks, gentle heaven! all is not bitterness,
In this most bitter hour. My Lord Laval,
To you my faith was plighted, by my brother;
That faith I ratified by mine own vow.—

LAVAL.
The oath was register'd in highest heaven.
Thou'rt mine!—

FRANÇOISE.
To all eternity, Laval,
If blood cannot efface that damning bond;
(Snatches his dagger and stabs herself.)
'Tis cancell'd, I've struck home—my dear, dear brother.

[Dies.
GONZALES
(aside.)
It works, it works!

LAVAL.
Oh horrible!—she's dead!

(Francis rushes from his concealment at the word.)
FRANCIS.
Dead!

(Laval draws his sword, and turns upon the King, who draws to defend himself.)
LAVAL.
Ha! what fiend hath sent thee here?
Down! down to hell with thee, thou damn'd seducer!

Enter Queen, followed by Attendants.
QUEEN.
Secure that madman!

(Part of the Attendants surround and disarm Laval.)
QUEEN
(aside to GONZALES).
Bravely done, indeed!
I shall remember.— (aloud)
—How now, wayward boy?
How is't I find thee here in private broils,
Whilst proud rebellion triumphs o'er the land?
Bourbon's in France again! and strong Marseilles
Beleaguer'd round by Spanish soldiery.
These tidings brought young Henry of Navarre,
Whom Bourbon, and Colonna, joining arms,
Have stripp'd and spoil'd of his paternal crown.

FRANCIS.
Peace, mother, prithee peace; look here! look here!
Here is a sight, that hath more sorrow in it,
Than loss of kingdoms, empires, or the world!
There lies the fairest lily of the land,
Untimely broken from its stem, to wither!

(Going towards the body.)
LAVAL
(breaks from Attendants).
Stand back, King Francis! lay not e'en a finger
On this poor wreck, that death hath sanctified!
This soulless frame of what was once my love!
Oh! thou pale flower, that in death's icy grasp
Dost lie, making the dissolution that we dread
Look fair;—farewell! for ever, and for ever!
Thou should'st have been the glad crown of my youth,
Maturer life's fruitful and fond companion,—
Dreary old age's shelter.

GONZALES.
Tears, my Lord?

LAVAL.
Ay, tears, thou busy mischief; get thee hence!
Away! who sent for thee?—who bade thee pour
The venom of thy tongue into my wounds?
What seek'st thou here?

GONZALES.
To see thee weep, Laval!
And I am satisfied! Look on me, boy!
Dost know Garcia—first scion of a house
Whose kindred shoots by thine were all cut down?

LAVAL.
For dead I left thee on Marignan plain!
Art thou from thence arisen! or from hell!
To wreak such ruin on me?

GONZALES.
They die not
Who have the work I had on hand unfinish'd;
The spirit would not from its fleshly house,
In which thy sword so many outlets made,
Ere it had seen its fell revenge fulfill'd.

LAVAL.
Revenge!—for what?—wherefore dost thou pursue me?

GONZALES.
Look on thy bride! look on that faded thing,
That e'en the tears thy manhood showers so fast,
And bravely, cannot wake to life again!
I call all nature to bear witness here;—
As fair a flower once grew within my home,
As young, as lovely, and as dearly lov'd.—
I had a sister once, a gentle maid—
The only daughter of my father's house,
Round whom our ruder loves did all entwine,
As round the dearest treasure that we own'd.
She was the centre of our souls' affections;—
She was the bud, that underneath our strong
And sheltering arms, spread over her, did blow.
So grew this fair, fair girl, till envious fate
Brought on the hour when she was withered.
Thy father, sir—now mark!—for 'tis the point
And moral of my tale—thy father, then,
Was, by my sire, in war ta'en prisoner;—
Wounded almost to death, he brought him home,—
Shelter'd him,—cherish'd him,—and, with a care,
Most like a brother's, watch'd his bed of sickness,
Till ruddy health, once more through all his veins,
Sent life's warm stream in strong returning tide.
How think ye he repaid my father's love?
From her dear home he lur'd my sister forth,
And, having robb'd her of her treasur'd honour,
Cast her away, defil'd,—despoil'd,—forsaken!—
The daughter of a high and ancient line!—
The child of so much love!—she died!—she died!—
Upon the threshold of that home, from which
My father spurn'd her!—over whose pale corse
I swore to hunt, through life, her ravisher;
Nor ever from my bloodhound track desist,
Till due and deep atonement had been made—
Honour for honour given—blood for blood.

LAVAL.
These were my father's injuries,—not mine,
Remorseless fiend!

GONZALES.
Thy father died in battle;
And as his lands, and titles, at his death,
Devolv'd on thee, on thee devolv'd the treasure
Of my dear hate;—I have had such revenge!
Such horrible revenge!—thy life, thy honour,
Were all too little;—I have had thy tears!
I've wrung a woman's sorrow from thine eyes,
And drunk each bitter drop of agony,
As heav'nly nectar, worthy of the gods!
Kings, the earth's mightiest potentates, have been
My tools and instruments: you, haughty madam,
And your ambition,—yonder headstrong boy,
And his mad love,—all, all beneath my feet,
All slaves unto my will and deadly purpose.

QUEEN.
Such glorious triumphs should be short-lived:—ho!
Lead out that man to instant death.

GONZALES.
Without confession, madam, shall I go?
Shall not the world know on what services
Louisa of Savoy bestows such guerdon?

QUEEN.
Am I obey'd! away with him!

FRANCIS.
Your pardon:—
If he have aught to speak before he dies,
Let him unfold; it is our pleasure so!

GONZALES.
You did not deal so hardly with the soul
Of Bourbon, when you sent me to his cell,
Love's frock'd and hooded messenger, I trow.—
But let that pass.—King Francis, mark we well:—
I was, by yonder lady, made the bearer
Of am'rous overtures unto De Bourbon,
Which he with scorn flung back; else trust me, sir,
You had not stood so safely on your throne
As now you stand. 'Twas I who set him free:
Empower'd by Charles of Spain to buy his arm
At any cost: so much for Bourbon! Now,
Look on the prostrate form of this fair creature!
Why, how now, madam, do you blench and start?
You're somewhat pale! fie, fie! what matters it—
‘Blood is but blood, and life no more than life,
‘Be 't cradled in however fair a form.’
Is't not well done! ha! well and suddenly?
Are you not satisfied?

QUEEN.
Thou lying devil!

GONZALES.
Dar'st thou deny the part thou hast in this?

QUEEN.
Dar'st thou to me? Ay, reptile!

GONZALES.
Here! look here!— (shows her letter.)


QUEEN.
Ha!

GONZALES.
Hast thou found thy master spirit, Queen!
Our wits have grappled hard for many a day.
What! mute at last? or hast some quaint device?

QUEEN.
No! hell has conquer'd me!

FRANCIS.
Give me that scroll—hast thou said all, Garcia?

GONZALES.
Ay, all!—Fair madam, fare ye well awhile;
And for my death, I thank you from my soul.
For after the rich cup I've drain'd this hour,
The rest were tasteless, stale, and wearisome.
Life had no aim, or joy, or end, save vengeance—
Vengeance is satisfied, so farewell life!

[Exit, guarded.
FRANCIS
(reads the letter).
Oh, mother! guilt hath taken from thy lips
All proud repelling answer. Give me that ring,—
Strip me that diadem from off thy brows,—
And bid a long farewell to vanity!
For in a holy nunnery immured,
Thou shalt have leisure to make peace with heav'n,
And mourn i' the shade of solitude thy errors.
It is our sov'reign pleasure. (To the body.)
—And for thee,
Thou lovely dust, all pomp and circumstance
That can gild death shall wait thee to thy grave:
Thou shalt lie with the royal and the proud;
And marble, by the dext'rous chisel taught,
Shall learn to mourn thy hapless fortunes.

LAVAL.
No!
Ye shall not bear her to your receptacles;
Nor raise a monument, for busy eyes
To stare upon: no hand, in future days,
Shall point to her last home; no voice shall cry
‘There lies King Francis' paramour!’ In life,
Thou didst despoil me of her; but in death,
She's mine! I that did love her so,
Will give her that, my love doth tell me best
Fits with her fate—an honourable grave:
She shall among my ancestral tombs repose,
Without an epitaph, except my tears.

FRANCIS.
Then now for war, oh! ill to end, I fear,
Usher'd with such dark deeds and fell disasters!

[Exeunt Francis, followed by the Queen and Attendants on one side, and Laval, with the others, bearing the body.