University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The apartments of Rasinga.
He enters, followed by Ehleypoolie and Mihdoony, and is speaking as he enters.
Ras.
(to Ehleypoolie).
Thou hast done well.

Ehley.
I am not given to boasting,
Yet I must say all things are so arranged,
That never bride's array, on such short notice,
Was better order'd, or for gallant show,
Or for security.

Ras.
'Tis rich and splendid?

Ehley.
Our palanquin, with all its colour'd streamers,
Will shine above the guards' encircling heads,
Like any crested mancka, proudly perch'd
Upon the summit of her bushy knoll.

Ras.
And have ye pioneers to clear its way?

Ehley.
Ay, pioneers who through a tangled thicket
Make room as quickly as the supple trunk
Of a wild elephant; whilst forest birds,
From their rent haunts dislodged, fly up and wheel
In mazy circles, raising clam'rous cries,
And casting noon-day shadows, like a cloud,
On the green woods beneath.

Mih.
In truth, my lord, he makes it well appear
He is not given to boasting.

Ras.
(smiling).
Not a whit!
As meek and modest as a Padur's child.
And having done so much for show and speed,
Good Ehleypoolie, I will take for granted
The chiefest point of all, security,
Has not been overlook'd; for mountain robbers
May yet be lurking near some narrow pass.

Ehley.
Well, let them lurk, and burst upon us too;
'Twill be as though a troop of mowing monkeys,
With antic mimic motions of defiance,
Should front the brinded tiger and his brood.
Full soon, I trow, their hinder parts they turn,
Lank and unseemly, to the enemy,
In scamp'ring haste, to gain the nearest shelter.
It were good sport if they should dare to stand.

Mih.
You see, my lord, he is in all things perfect.

Ras.
I see it plainly. Thanks for all thy pains,
Brave Ehleypoolie.

Ehley.
Shall we take with us
The pipes and doulas that have hung so long
In the recess of Dame Artina's garden?
Of all your instruments there are not any
That sound so loud and clear.

Ras.
(sternly).
No, no! I charge thee,
Let nothing there be changed. Thy witless words
Have struck upon my heart a dismal note,
Depressing all its life and buoyancy.
Alas! my joy is like the shimm'ring brightness
Of moving waves, touch'd by the half-risen moon,
Tracing her narrow pathway on the deep:
Between each brighten'd ridge black darkness lies,
le far on either side, the wat'ry waste
Spreads dim, and vague, and cheerless.

Mih.
If such thy thoughts, dost thou repent thy purpose?

Ras.
Not so; there's ecstacy in those bright gleams;
Ay, and though cross'd with darkness black as midnight,
I will enjoy this momentary radiance. Enter a Slave, in haste.

What brings thee here with such a staring face?

Slave.
The lady's coming; she is close at hand.

Ras.
Ha! from her father's house, unsent for, come?

Slave.
No, not that lady, sir; it is Artina.

Ras.
(much disturbed).
I thought my mother would have spared me this.
Is Montebesa with her?

Slave.
No, my lord;
She has her children with her.

Ras.
Wretched moment!
The sight of them will change my strength to cowardice:
What shall I do?

Ehley.
I'll quickly run and say that you are busy,
And cannot see her.

Ras.
(pulling Ehleypoolie back as he is about to go out).
Restrain thy heartless zeal; it is most odious.
Shall she be so debarr'd from entrance here,
Whose presence was a blessing and a grace! Enter Artina, leading her youngest child, and followed by Samar, leading his little sister. Rasinga hastens to meet her, and leads her in silence to the principal seat, at the same time motioning to Ehleypoolie and Mihdoony to withdraw, who immediately leave the apartment.

Here, take this seat, Artina.

Art.
No, my lord;
I come not here to sit; I come to kneel,
As now beseems a scorn'd forsaken wife,
Who pleads with strong affection for her children:
Who pleads in painful memory of love
Which thou for many years hast lavish'd on her,
Till, in the gladness of a foolish heart,
She did believe that she was worthy of it.

Ras.
Yes, dear Artina, thou wast worthy of it!
Thou wast, and art, and shalt be loved and honour'd
While there is life within Rasinga's bosom.
Why didst thou think it could be otherwise,
Although another mate within my house
May take her place, to be with thee associated,
As younger sister with an elder born?
Such union is in many houses found.

Art.
I have no skill in words—no power to reason:
How others live I little care to know:
But this I feel, there is no life for me,
No love, no honour, if thy alter'd heart
Hath put me from it for another mate.
Oh, woe is me! these children on thy knees,
That were so oft caress'd, so dearly cherish'd,
Must then divide thy love with younger fav'rites,
Of younger mother born? Alas! alas!
Small will the portion be that falls to them.

Ras.
Nay, say not so, Artina; say not so.

Art.
I know it well. Thou thinkest now, belike,
That thou wilt love them still; but ah! too soon
They'll be as things who do but haunt thy house,
Lacking another home, uncheer'd, uncared for
And who will heed their wants, will soothe their sorrow,
When their poor mother moulders in the grave,
And her vex'd spirit, in some other form,
Is on its way to gain the dreamless sleep?
Kneel, Samar, kneel! thy father loved thee first,
In our first happy days.—Wilt thou not, boy?
Why dost thou stand so sullen and so still?

Sam.
Ne loves us not.

Art.
Nay, nay, but he will love us.
Down on thy knees! up with thy clasped hands!
Rasinga, O Rasinga! did I think
So to implore thy pity—I and mine
So to implore thy pity, and in vain!

[Sinks on the ground exhausted with agitation.
Ras.
(raising her gently in his arms).
Dearest
Artina! still most dear to me:
Thy passionate affections waste thy strength;
Let me support thee to another chamber,
More fitting for retirement and for rest.
Come also, children.—Come, my little playmates!

Sam.
We're not thy playmates now.

Ras.
What dost thou say?

Sam.
Thou dost not speak and smile and sport with us
As thou wast wont: we're not thy playmates now.

Ras.
Thou art a fearless knave to tell me so.

[Exeunt, Artina leaning on her husband, and the children following.