 | The Siege of Marseilles |  |
SCENE—Edge of the Wood, clashing of Swords.
Raymond enters pursuing Guise.
RAYMOND.
Now, now I have thee in the grasp of vengeance,
Lurking assassin!
GUISE.
Wilt thou stain thy sword,
O generous Raymond, in a heart that pants
With its last pangs? What, can thy boasted honour
Enjoy the cruel triumph o'er a wretch
Whose feeble arm, unstrung by death, can cope
With thine no more?
RAYMOND.
Oh, was it all too little,
All thou hast done, but when one gleam of hope
To tear my Countess from the Tyrant's arms
Shed the last beam of comfort on my soul,
That thou must also blot and trample down!
O stain of manhood! where are now thy ruffians,
Thy lurking murderers? But guard thee, villain.
GUISE.
Oh Fame, report it, how the mighty soul
Of noble Raymond, raging with the lust
Of groveling vengeance, gave his sword to mangle
The corse already shivering in the arms
Of swift approaching death. Oh yes, bold hero,
Yes; stain thy honour with the unmanly rage
Of giving wound on wound when faint and dying
Thy foe resists no more.
RAYMOND.
I thank thee Caitiff,
For warning me. I would not stain my sword
To rob thee only of a dying moment.
Thy cowardice has purchas'd thee some minutes.
Of longer gasping—O, thou art so bloated
With basest guilt, I cannot bear to view thee.
My happiness, which never was the fruit
Of other's woe, spread wide its blooming honours
In a kind soil, when thou, a brutal Plunderer,
Hast thrown its fairest blossoms in the dust—
My life blood fails; thy lurking ruffian's swords
Have found the mortal part: yet, thanks to Heaven,
Thy purpose shall be blighted.
GUISE.
And art thou wounded?
Ye powers of death assist me!
[drawing his sword.
RAYMOND.
Villain!
[they fight, Guise falls.
There lie, detested coward!
Cold in my bosom smarts the murdering sword
That kill'd my last fond hope.
GUISE.
Oh this is terrible!
He that receives a wrong—he, he is happy,
Compar'd to him who gave it!
My crimes, oh horrible, and death's hand on me!
Enter Bramville, Ronsard and Servants, with Eemoine veiled.
RONSARD.
Still not in vain, my Lord, is our attempt.
[to Raymond.
We rescued her from Guise's ruffian bands:
But let us haste from hence. Ah heaven, you bleed.
[Bramville and Ronsard support Raymond.
RAYMOND.
Death gently beckons me: Oh speed my friends
To Sicily, and place my rescued spouse—
[Eemoine drops the veil.
Heavens, is it thee! O now my heart is vanquish'd!
My last fond wish, my last fond hope destroy'd!
[Sinking down, Bramville and Ronsard support him.
GUISE.
O cursed woman, see the bitter fruits
[to Eemoine.
Of thy intrigues, and curst advice—
Some Dæmon drags me hence, dark settling horror—
[dies.
EEMOINE.
Dreadful, O dreadful, all my hopes are blasted!
[looking at Guise.
O injur'd Raymond, trembling I approach thee.
Much injur'd Raymond, thy Countess overlov'd thee;
'Twas I attempted to seduce her virtue,
Which mid the darkness of these plotful hours
Shone with redoubled lustre; loud and awfully
Thy wrongs cry vengeance; and behold their victim
Kneeling before thee. Mark me, great thy wrongs,
And this their fruits—
[Stabs herself, the dagger snatch'd from her.
Yet life seems slow to fly.
Oh, while it lingers bear me to the Countess:
Pursue and snatch her from the slaves of Guise.
Yet let me ask forgiveness.
RAYMOND.
Bramville, thy friendly arms
Were the kind shelter of my infant years.
Yet, yet, my friends, by all your dearest cares,
Oh soothe my ghost, save my Erminia.
What pleasing indolence—O death, I come!
[dies.
BRAMVILLE.
Peace to thy noble soul!
Oh gentleness,
That Fortune's giddy height cou'd never change!
Oh nobleness of every gallant virtue,
Is this the best acquittance the base world
Could give to thee!
Enter the Countess, looking at Eemoine.
COUNTESS.
Hast thou again betray'd me! if my servants
Had not now rescued me—
My evil Angel why thus glar'st thou at me!
EEMOINE.
The treacherous flow of spirits
That gave the blow has left me: deep, oh deep,
[sinking down.
And deeper still I sink. Oh black'ning horrors,
Is there no help?—Alas, no gleam of hope!
How dreadful is your silence! Mercy Heaven,
Injur'd Erminia, canst thou forgive me?
Thy husband lov'd thee, ever fondly lov'd thee.
Hence, hence, ye hissing adders—Ah it flashes
Now, now 'tis darkness—
[dies.
ERMINIA.
My husband did she say! O yes, he lov'd me.
Ha, what—
[turning to Raymond.
My Husband murder'd.
[kneeling down by him—A pause.
Arise my noble Raymond, rise,
And let us fly—
BRAMVILLE.
Assume the sacred veil,
The holy cloyster's walls shall then protect you,
And melancholy peace may shed her balm
On life's cold evening—
ERMINIA.
Take my child away—
Oh Heaven, how dreadful these upbraiding looks
From my own infant! Ask me not, I know not
Who slew thy Father—Gracious Heaven,
No child is here; but here my murder'd Husband!
[faints.
BRAMVILLE.
Ha!—what resounding tumult!
LORD ADMIRAL.
Oh, my Lord,
'Tis treason's triumph o'er our country's fall.
Few moments since I saw the warlike Bourbon
Grasping the victory, ride thro' the field,
His eye-balls fir'd with joy.
BRAMVILLE.
Alas the King!
A prisoner!
[Enter the King, guarded by Spanish soldiers.
KING.
Off—your base hands, you slaves—
BRAMVILLE.
Amidst thy bitter feelings for thyself,
Look here, fallen King—
[pointing to the Countess and Raymond.
Low lies thy faithfullest,
Thy bravest Peer—These are the horrid triumphs
Of thy lewd revels!
KING.
These—Oh Heaven, couldst thou
Restore me yesterday!
RONSARD.
When gallant injur'd Raymond
Sheath'd his good sword, then thou, and France, were conquer'd.
BRAMVILLE.
Lord Admiral, deep were your state intrigues,
Yet mark his truth, the favorite care of Heaven;
Tho' fortified with all the brazen mounds
That art can rear, and watch'd by eagle's eyes,
Still will some rotten part betray the structure
That is not bas'd by simple honesty.
LORD ADMIRAL.
Patience, my Liege, were now becoming grandeur.
KING.
Insidious villain, in a baser slavery
Than this thou long hast held me. Oh Disgrace
Left friendless in the field! me, and my cause,
So hated, none to back me! Hah! and must I
Be led to Bourbon? Must that haughty Traytor,
Avengeful Heaven, must he pronounce my fate!
O had I died a Monarch in the field!
Deeply, O Raymond, deeply art thou reveng'd!
Now I'm no King indeed—
Exeunt omnes.
Raymond enters pursuing Guise.
RAYMOND.
Now, now I have thee in the grasp of vengeance,
Lurking assassin!
GUISE.
Wilt thou stain thy sword,
O generous Raymond, in a heart that pants
With its last pangs? What, can thy boasted honour
Enjoy the cruel triumph o'er a wretch
Whose feeble arm, unstrung by death, can cope
With thine no more?
329
Oh, was it all too little,
All thou hast done, but when one gleam of hope
To tear my Countess from the Tyrant's arms
Shed the last beam of comfort on my soul,
That thou must also blot and trample down!
O stain of manhood! where are now thy ruffians,
Thy lurking murderers? But guard thee, villain.
GUISE.
Oh Fame, report it, how the mighty soul
Of noble Raymond, raging with the lust
Of groveling vengeance, gave his sword to mangle
The corse already shivering in the arms
Of swift approaching death. Oh yes, bold hero,
Yes; stain thy honour with the unmanly rage
Of giving wound on wound when faint and dying
Thy foe resists no more.
RAYMOND.
I thank thee Caitiff,
For warning me. I would not stain my sword
To rob thee only of a dying moment.
Thy cowardice has purchas'd thee some minutes.
Of longer gasping—O, thou art so bloated
With basest guilt, I cannot bear to view thee.
My happiness, which never was the fruit
Of other's woe, spread wide its blooming honours
In a kind soil, when thou, a brutal Plunderer,
Hast thrown its fairest blossoms in the dust—
My life blood fails; thy lurking ruffian's swords
329
Thy purpose shall be blighted.
GUISE.
And art thou wounded?
Ye powers of death assist me!
[drawing his sword.
RAYMOND.
Villain!
[they fight, Guise falls.
There lie, detested coward!
Cold in my bosom smarts the murdering sword
That kill'd my last fond hope.
GUISE.
Oh this is terrible!
He that receives a wrong—he, he is happy,
Compar'd to him who gave it!
My crimes, oh horrible, and death's hand on me!
Enter Bramville, Ronsard and Servants, with Eemoine veiled.
RONSARD.
Still not in vain, my Lord, is our attempt.
[to Raymond.
We rescued her from Guise's ruffian bands:
But let us haste from hence. Ah heaven, you bleed.
[Bramville and Ronsard support Raymond.
RAYMOND.
Death gently beckons me: Oh speed my friends
To Sicily, and place my rescued spouse—
[Eemoine drops the veil.
Heavens, is it thee! O now my heart is vanquish'd!
My last fond wish, my last fond hope destroy'd!
[Sinking down, Bramville and Ronsard support him.
330
O cursed woman, see the bitter fruits
[to Eemoine.
Of thy intrigues, and curst advice—
Some Dæmon drags me hence, dark settling horror—
[dies.
EEMOINE.
Dreadful, O dreadful, all my hopes are blasted!
[looking at Guise.
O injur'd Raymond, trembling I approach thee.
Much injur'd Raymond, thy Countess overlov'd thee;
'Twas I attempted to seduce her virtue,
Which mid the darkness of these plotful hours
Shone with redoubled lustre; loud and awfully
Thy wrongs cry vengeance; and behold their victim
Kneeling before thee. Mark me, great thy wrongs,
And this their fruits—
[Stabs herself, the dagger snatch'd from her.
Yet life seems slow to fly.
Oh, while it lingers bear me to the Countess:
Pursue and snatch her from the slaves of Guise.
Yet let me ask forgiveness.
RAYMOND.
Bramville, thy friendly arms
Were the kind shelter of my infant years.
Yet, yet, my friends, by all your dearest cares,
Oh soothe my ghost, save my Erminia.
What pleasing indolence—O death, I come!
[dies.
BRAMVILLE.
Peace to thy noble soul!
Oh gentleness,
331
Oh nobleness of every gallant virtue,
Is this the best acquittance the base world
Could give to thee!
Enter the Countess, looking at Eemoine.
COUNTESS.
Hast thou again betray'd me! if my servants
Had not now rescued me—
My evil Angel why thus glar'st thou at me!
EEMOINE.
The treacherous flow of spirits
That gave the blow has left me: deep, oh deep,
[sinking down.
And deeper still I sink. Oh black'ning horrors,
Is there no help?—Alas, no gleam of hope!
How dreadful is your silence! Mercy Heaven,
Injur'd Erminia, canst thou forgive me?
Thy husband lov'd thee, ever fondly lov'd thee.
Hence, hence, ye hissing adders—Ah it flashes
Now, now 'tis darkness—
[dies.
ERMINIA.
My husband did she say! O yes, he lov'd me.
Ha, what—
[turning to Raymond.
My Husband murder'd.
[kneeling down by him—A pause.
Arise my noble Raymond, rise,
And let us fly—
332
Assume the sacred veil,
The holy cloyster's walls shall then protect you,
And melancholy peace may shed her balm
On life's cold evening—
ERMINIA.
Take my child away—
Oh Heaven, how dreadful these upbraiding looks
From my own infant! Ask me not, I know not
Who slew thy Father—Gracious Heaven,
No child is here; but here my murder'd Husband!
[faints.
BRAMVILLE.
Ha!—what resounding tumult!
LORD ADMIRAL.
Oh, my Lord,
'Tis treason's triumph o'er our country's fall.
Few moments since I saw the warlike Bourbon
Grasping the victory, ride thro' the field,
His eye-balls fir'd with joy.
BRAMVILLE.
Alas the King!
A prisoner!
[Enter the King, guarded by Spanish soldiers.
KING.
Off—your base hands, you slaves—
BRAMVILLE.
Amidst thy bitter feelings for thyself,
333
[pointing to the Countess and Raymond.
Low lies thy faithfullest,
Thy bravest Peer—These are the horrid triumphs
Of thy lewd revels!
KING.
These—Oh Heaven, couldst thou
Restore me yesterday!
RONSARD.
When gallant injur'd Raymond
Sheath'd his good sword, then thou, and France, were conquer'd.
BRAMVILLE.
Lord Admiral, deep were your state intrigues,
Yet mark his truth, the favorite care of Heaven;
Tho' fortified with all the brazen mounds
That art can rear, and watch'd by eagle's eyes,
Still will some rotten part betray the structure
That is not bas'd by simple honesty.
LORD ADMIRAL.
Patience, my Liege, were now becoming grandeur.
KING.
Insidious villain, in a baser slavery
Than this thou long hast held me. Oh Disgrace
Left friendless in the field! me, and my cause,
So hated, none to back me! Hah! and must I
Be led to Bourbon? Must that haughty Traytor,
334
O had I died a Monarch in the field!
Deeply, O Raymond, deeply art thou reveng'd!
Now I'm no King indeed—
Exeunt omnes.
| The Siege of Marseilles | |