University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Changes near to Argentile's Cottage.
Enter CURAN.
I've climb'd yon cliff in vain. This to the right
Remains untry'd; yet this way ere I reach it
I may, perhaps, again behold that form,
Which makes all others viewless.

Enter ARGENTILE to him hastily.
Arg.
Careless Youth!
Return'd so soon! return'd without my brother!
False one, thou ne'er hast sought him.

Cur.
Far as eye
Could from yon beetling brow detect a gull,
So far these eyes have pierc'd, nor saw one glimpse
Of human face. But hopeless is the chance,
That he, who lost himself is only found
Where thou art present, fitly e'er should use
Those faculties thy absence takes away:
For, absent when thou art, tyrannic fancy
Seizes my sight, and fixes in each orb
Thy image only. If I spy a rose,
It is thy blushing cheek; a crystal rill,
It is thy sparkling eye. Each element;
Fire, water, air, are tinctur'd with thy features.
Gods! she is mute; no sympathetic sigh
Gives murmuring proof, that she approves my passion.
Why is it thus, O ye remorseless Powers!
I've heard that love was ever eloquent;
That tongues, how rude soe'er, nay, that dumb eyes
Inspir'd by love could speak as plain as tongues,
And more persuasively. If this were true,
My eyes, my cheeks, each feature had been vocal,
And told their tale with such sweet energy
It must have been believed. They mock'd me much
Who told me this; for I have no such powers.

Arg.
Thou hast, too eloquent Youth! indeed thou hast!

Cur.
No, not enough to gain me the cold credence,
I love beyond expression.

Arg.
Think not so:
I do believe thou lov'st me.

Cur.
So believing,
Canst thou then cruelly reject that love,
Because 'tis offer'd by a nameless lover?
I heretofore did boast that I was rich;
That boast did fail to move thee. To say more,
Know, that my birth is noble. Will that truth
Avail me? will my fairest meet my wishes,
When I declare this hand, this heaving heart,
That sue to join in marriage bonds with hers,
Are ev'n of royal lineage?

Arg.
Ha! what say'st thou?

Cur.
That I'm a Prince; and yet so much I love thee,
I'll bear my sweet, my simple shepherdess
Swift to my father's court, make her my bride,
Clothe her in gold and purple: orient pearls,
'Stead of those meadow flowers, shall braid her hair.
Good Heav'ns! she weeps. Is it a cause for tears,
That thou behold'st thus prostrate at thy feet
A heart and crown offer'd by Denmark's heir!

Arg.
By Denmark's heir!

Cur.
Yes, to the Saxon court
He came disguis'd to see its beauteous Princess;
(For beauteous, fame had boasted her to be)
How, in that aim, his various efforts fail'd
Imports but little. He has seen in thee
What makes all beauty homely, save thy own.

Arg.
Heav'ns! is this true?

Cur.
It is by all the Powers
That rule our destinies! they mock at pride.
Princes and peasants their impartial scale
Holds all in equal balance! 'tis their sport
To teach the vain possessors of such toys,
As wealth and birth, how little is their worth
When laid, as now, an unaccepted gift
At the bright shrine of beauty.

Arg.
Rise, Sir, rise!
If thou'rt the Prince of Denmark, fate has been
Beyond, whate'er we read in feigned legend,
Ingenious to beguile thee. Now, methinks,
I almost wish to be that Argentile,
You seem to scorn.

Cur.
Be rather thy fair self,
Who canst give more to my transported soul
In one sweet smile, than Argentile could bring
With all her royal dower.

Arg.
You ne'er beheld
That Princess, Sir.

Cur.
Nor do I wish it, Fairest!
Thou hast such full possession of my soul,
That, were she lovely as thy loveliest self,
(Impossible to think) it were as easy
A single hand should lift some first-rate barque
From ocean's breast, and on the timber'd base,
Whence late it launch'd, refix its ponderous keel,
As snatch my heart from that delicious harbour,
Where all my hopes have anchor'd.

Arg.
Wouldst thou, Prince,
Relinquish for my love so vast a dower?

Cur.
I have, sweet Maid, relinquish'd it already,
Ev'n ere thy love be gain'd.

Arg.
I find thee apt,
Great Sir, to part with what the world holds precious:
Canst thou still part with more?

Cur.
No, not with thee:
Thou canst not mean it. Dost thou scorn me only
Because I am a prince?

Arg.
I do, and must,
While I remain an humble shepherdess.

Cur.
A village maid has oft been crown'd a queen.

Arg.
Yet never without loss of happiness.
And, trust me, Sir, while I can safely sojourn
In this still valley, tend my little flock,
Sleep in yon cot, and press this perfum'd bank,
I seek no loftier station.

Cur.
Say not this
To him, who, born a prince, has scorn'd his equal,
And loves but thee alone.

Arg.
But can he scorn
Himself? I mean his better part of self?

Cur.
No, for that part art thou.

Arg.
Mistake me not;
I mean thy royalty. Love lives not long
Without equality. To love his equal,
That prince must be a shepherd.

Cur.
Be it so.
I'll make that change the test of my true passion.
I here disclaim all royalty. I'll live
In this still valley, tend thy little flock,
Sleep with thee in yon cot, and with thee press
This perfum'd bank.

Arg.
O! thou hast won my heart!
Away, away with maiden shamefac'dness!
I will confess, I love thee.

Cur.
Take then, Heav'n,
Take back again each trivial good ye gave me!
Take back superfluous wealth, superfluous grandeur!
This, this is all I'll keep; but I will prize it,
As monarchs do their crowns!

Enter OSWALD and EDITHA from the Path behind, and stand at a distance.
OSWALD.
Am I awake?
What! Argentile lock'd in a rustic's arms!

Ed.
Patience and silence, Sir; for be assur'd,
If he, that was the minstrel, be the Prince,
As you have said the Danish Envoy told ye,
That same is he.

Osw.
Say'st thou? O blest event!

Arg.
Heav'ns, Sir, my uncle! Nay, my brother too!
O all ye stars! Permit me, that I meet them;
I'll speedily return.

Cur.
Go, my soul's treasure,
But make thy absence short! Peace, peace, my heart,
Leap not for very rapture thro' my breast!
Patience, fond flutterer! Let me mark their meeting.
See, how my Love falls on that brother's neck!
I envy him his bliss, tho' he's her brother.
And now they hurry both into their cottage.
Her uncle this way bends. I'll meet him boldly.
He that has honour in his fair intent
Can feel no terror from a mortal's frown.

Osw.
Who art thou, forester?

Cur.
Whate'er I am,
Deem me no foe to thee and thy fair kindred.

Osw.
I hope thou art not, yet I needs must ask
Your business here, and why your ardent gaze
Is fixt on yonder cot?

Cur.
Because that cot
Contains the dearest treasure of my soul,
A goddess in the semblance of a maid,
To whom my love is plighted. Good old man,
Admit me to her presence.

Osw.
That I must not.
'Tis her own wish, I should detain thee here
Till she returns.

Cur.
Away, that cannot be!
Did ever turtle wish her mate detain'd—

[A flourish of trumpets heard.
Osw.
What shout was that?

Cur.
'Tis Denmark's trumpet sounds!
What may this mean?

Osw.
O, ye propitious stars!

Cur.
I know that flourish: 'tis the note of conquest.

Enter SEWOLD, EDWIN, and SOLDIERS.
SEWOLD.
My Prince! my Pupil!

[Sewold embracing Curan.
Ed.
O my noble Father!
[Falling at Oswald's feet.
Accept this sword, steept in the tyrant's blood—

Sew.
And art thou found at this auspicious moment!
Where is thy Queen, thy Argentile?

Cur.
Good Sewold,
I pray thee check this sudden burst of joy,
Nor dream of Argentile; she is not here,
Nor do I wish.—O that my tongue could croud
A thousand thousand thoughts in one short sentence!
Give me the hearing. Thou perchance may'st chide;
But, know, in this sweet vale I've met a maid—
Nay, interrupt me not—she was not born
Indeed of noble kin, and, sooth to say,
Is but a shepherd's niece. But what of that?
Thou know'st, my Sewold, Heav'n's impartial eye
(I but repeat thy lecture, wisest Sewold)
Notes no distinction in the equal chain,
That links humanity. Nature, good herald,
Marshals alike the peasant and the prince,
And gives the self-same blazon. See, she comes!
Mark her, my Sewold, what a modest blush
Damasks her cheek. Give me thy judgment, Friend.
Is not her rural sweet simplicity
Beyond all majesty? withal majestic,
Or would be so, if it were for her purpose
To put on majesty, but she disdains it.
Kneel with me, Sewold, kneel, ye men of Denmark,
All kneel, and hail this heavenly maid your queen!

Enter ARGENTILE and EDITHA (in a Woman's dress.)
ARGENTILE.
Rise, Prince, thy looks declare thou wilt not scorn me,
Tho' I am Argentile.

Cur.
Mock not my love!

Arg.
I do not, Sir; this act shall prove I do not.
Mark it, I pray. Behold this faithful maid,
Whom late in man's attire I call'd my brother!
Behold this gallant warrior! he, whose valour
So nobly has aveng'd thy country's wrongs,
To him I give her hand. His sire approves
The act. See, he devours my snowy gift
With all a lover's rapture!

[Joining the hands of Editha and Edwin.
Cur.
As I thine!

[Seizing Argentile's hand.
Ed.
What words shall speak my thanks? Yes, I have words
My queen will think even worth so dear a gift.
Your father lives.

Arg.
My father!

Osw.
Adelbright!

Ed.
These honour'd hands
Did lead him from the convent to the castle.

Arg.
And in his perfect health?

Ed.
Of health such share,
As his full years allow. Yet strong enough
To go to morrow, so his priest had prompted,
And wend him to the woods, a solitary—

Arg.
O Prince! O Oswald! where shall my full heart,
O'erburthen'd with its blessings, first select
Her theme of praise to Heav'n. First, my best Father,
For thy dear life, prolong'd to bless my nuptials,
I bow my thankful knee! and next, my Prince,
(Nay kneel thou too) bless we the host of saints,
For that, by means beyond compare mysterious,
They saved us from the curse entail'd on princes,
And gave our hearts that rare felicity
Of choice in freedom, which they give the peasant!

Cur.
They did. They lighted the bright torch of love,
And bade it blaze ere policy could damp
With its chill touch the fervor of the flame.

Sew.
Blest pair, how will the story of your loves,
When born upon the wings of poesy
To after ages, call forth envious sighs
From all of royal ear that drink the tale?

Cur.
True, my best Sewold! Now, sweet Argentile,
Let's hasten to thy father. Dost thou loiter?

Arg.
Only to pay these hospitable shades
The tribute of my thanks. Farewell, sweet vale!
Farewell, ye tranquil shades, where Love was born,
And where, did duty not withdraw her step,
Love still would wish to sojourn; yet no long
Farewell; for soon, in these same pastoral weeds,
(If it so please the partner of my soul
To join me in the pleasing pilgrimage)
I will revisit your dear solitudes.

Cur.
Yes, Argentile, yes, ye delicious glades!
We'll steal a frequent holyday from state,
Here to repeat in every different haunt
What pass'd in this sweet valley. Thou shalt find me
Couch'd by yon babbling rill: thy kiss shall wake me;
Then, feigning sweet surprise, here shalt thou fly,
And here in amorous chase will I pursue thee:
Then shalt thou yield—

Arg.
Yet not till all that tale
Of tender love, which charm'd of late my ear,
Be twice told over.

Cur.
Sweet one! so it shall;
And ev'ry time with an increase of ardor.
Our love shall be peculiar, as our fate;
Time shall not pall it, pageantry and state
Quench its first fervor. Hither will we fly,
Leaving at court all cares of royalty:
Here, shelter'd in our ivy-mantled nest,
'Spite of that royalty, we will be blest.

[Exeunt Omnes.