University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A Hall in the Palace of Blaquernæ.
Henry Dandolo, Doge of Venice; Baldwin, Earl of Flanders; Prince Henry his brother; Montferrat; Bishops of Bethlehem, Troyes and Soissons; Flemish, French, and Venetian Lords.
Doge.
Dictate, young prince; what of thy kingly honour?
Is it a hollow thing—a passing bubble,
Such as boys make in green and yellow summer?
Now, let us be decisive: Reverend Fathers,
And ye, my worthy peers, we crave resolves
That may do honour to our high appointment.
Why are we here, when our great enterprise
Looks to the Holy Land, from its bless'd shrines
To drive the infidel? This had been done
By our brave fathers, had not policy
Or hate inspir'd the emperors of this East
To thwart their measures: and, such power they have,
For this their city locks the eastern world.
Alexis sued our help—we help the weak.
Yet farther were we mov'd to put him up
Into his native seat, when the conditions,—
(I shall not now say of his gratitude,
For they have been the dictates of a heart
That, in its weak and pining eagerness,
Promises all things rashly, and foresees,
Even in this largeness, an excuse hereafter;)—
Yet, were they such that nations hail'd the hour,
And thought it the near ordinance of Heaven,
That we should gain a footing in this city,
Toward our great design—this prince's favour,
And more, his powerful and immediate aid.
The rest is now before us; we have found him
Quick in those changes that, in such a case,
Denote as clearly as stiff opposition.
When in our favour, they are mov'd by fear,
Which, like the glassy sun that, in mid hours,
Shines out betwixt the colds of morn and eve,
And sweats the clammy brow of pucker'd frost
But for a little;—softens his last nay,
Withdraws again, and only proves at last
That nought can give a hint to gratitude.
The change, my lords, it seems, is now against us
Since yesternight: but then his flag of peace
Hung down to us from the wall; now on that wall
Go armed figures nodding in new presumption.
The gates are shut—the bustle of war is heard.
My counsel is but how to choose the ground
Of quickest action, and the disposition
This moment of our strength—to use our arms.

(Applause.)
Bald.
Wer't found, my lord, that we ourselves have made
The prince an enemy—our own misconduct;—
It might affect what you, not knowing all,
Have wisely counsell'd—I should else be silent;
But I am bound to see our purpose on—
This might retard it; therefore do I speak.
This thing—this outrage. Who, my Lords, could think
That one of us would, in the peace of night,
Shake friendly cities with the alarms of war;
And leave us here to wonder at the effects,
Nay, more, to move whole armies at the issue
Of one man's folly.

Doge.
Are we all here? 'Tis strange.
Proceed, my Lord of Flanders.

Bald.
I may be rash, and this no cause of war—

Mont.
As if his deeds should shun the light, Lord Earl:
Wind up thy cold insinuating coil.—
Had he been here, for whom I'm proud to speak,
Young Montmorency, he had started forth
And nam'd himself at mention of this thing.
A private message from the emperor
Came to his tent last night—“Bring thee a guard,
And take thy bride; she waits thee in our palace:
All things are ready 'gainst the nuptial hour.”
He went: the gates were shut, a force within,
Taunts for a reason—and a shower of darts.
Now stand forth he that blames my noble friend;
By Heaven, he had not been that friend this moment
Had he come tamely off. His sharp reply
Was all too little.
So much for this grievous outrage, and too much.
Here's Montmorency.

Montmorency enters.
Doge.
(rising.)
How may we honour one so high in war!
Brave Sir, we have resolved to arm this day,
To win where patience fails. Look to it, Greek!
Herald of thine shall show no peace-flag here,
Till he hath borne another embassy.
Our war shall ring within thy palaces,
And climb thy towers, and pull thy flag-staves down.

Mont.
My troops are under arms.—
Who now shall give me leave to tell my news?
Or will you swear to avenge him ere I speak?—
Who starts not now? O I have been too slow.
That messenger should have a thousand tongues
To clamour on before him, as he goes
Rousing the earth to vengeance, who must speak
Of such foul deeds. The prince is foully murder'd.

Doge.
Rise up, ye princes, hear this thing in sorrow.
Brave knight, you talk'd of murder? will you go on.
Alexis murder'd! Did you say by Murtzoufle?

Mont.
Would one of these brave lords could meet that monster:—
Usurper too, now from the throne of Greece
He casts his gloomy shadow. Noble Doge,
It is my private interest to cry war,
Else, would I speak: save me too from presumption,
And speak for me a thousand burning words,
To drive up vengeance: or, but name the deed,
And men shall pluck him down.—Hear me, my lords!
Are not your tyrants politic, though cruel?
But his a soul so gross he sees no need
To keep the deed within its bloody bandage,
But forth it bursts at once, and groans to the world
From the dark hangings of the murder-chamber.
Now, shall that man be king?

Doge.
No: parricide
He shall be held, and foul as beastly rites
Done on the dark undiall'd hour of midnight.
My lords, we're not yet done: Mark our first duty.—
He was a prince that, but for evil counsel,
And one vile traitor-man, had earn'd his praise
For good judicious acts. And it is ours
To do all justice to the dead, the more,
We have been led to put him to much blame.
Let's now reverse our sentence, and believe
That bastard counsel oft usurp'd the right
Of his own justice—a much elder brother.
Alas! who does not mourn for him, so young,
So full of life? The green wheat of his years
Is stricken down in summer—who does not grieve?
God rest thee—thou art ashes, Prince of Greece.
Were I now young;—but I shall say no more—
Ye are my sons, and braver far than I.—
Up, swear to avenge this deed! Ye Holy Fathers,
We are permitted so to do?—High Lord
Bishop of Bethlehem, thy advice shall weigh.

Bishop of Beth.
Although in every pettiest state there be
Appropriations, not to be interfered with
By other states; yet, if such government
Cannot control itself in desperate times,
But it become a sore upon the world;
Not better right has this, my own right hand,
To cut infectious finger from my left,
Than other nations have then to correct it.
Places there are which men have sanctified,
The great high places of the social world.
And, when the leprosy of unclean feet
Hath come thereon, all men cry, “Purge it clean.”
When princes die by treason, it affects
Less a particular kingdom, though embroil'd,
Than all the social bonds of earth, made strong
Or weak in the awe and reverence of men.
Arise, my lords, or now ye say to the world,
(So much are ye engaged in these affairs,
So nearly,) that ye hold such matters light.
The prince was not allied to us by blood.
We do the thing from reason then, not passion;
And “vengeance yet is his.”

Doge.
This solemn wisdom
Keeps us in bonds, good signors.

Montm.
Come on, Montferrat.

Bald.
Henry—my Lords of Flanders—

Doge.
And we of Venice—shall we be last in this?
But stay, brave signors, and give ear a moment:—
Still have I found a rash unbottom'd haste
Settling, ere long, like cold indifference.
Then let us hold it wisdom to enforce
Our present ardour by proportion'd reasons.
Our claims are not extinct, and shall be answer'd
For our own sakes—for the late prince's sake,
Who had been faithful, but for evil men.
And, hark! there is an empire in this East,
Not far from our command. How dread were they
That could to Palestine bear mighty name;
Conqu'rors of Greece, and have its power at will.
The dusky infidel would bow at once,
And the dread shrine be free.
If we are not these men, what must we be?
Why, nothing more than desp'rate of success,
This tyrant in our sides a dreadful thorn.
Why need I mention first crusades? They failed,
As we must fail, this power unless controll'd,
Destroy'd, or gain'd.
Most reverend Bishops, speak, and, if you may,
Speak from the conscience, give us your approval;
It much concerns the church to gain this city.

Bish. of Troyes.
Brothers of Bethlehem and of Soissons,
Most noble Doge, and all ye other peers,
In former days a holy bishop thus,
(Bishop of Langres) counselled Lewis the young:—
“If ye would thrive in this great enterprise,
(He spoke of the crusade,) ere you pass farther,
Seize on Constantinople.” Now these words
Of high authority were given, a prince,
A lawful emperor on this throne of Greece.
'Tis not so now—a hateful tyrant's there.

Doge.
No more.
Montferrat, Baldwin, lead the blind man forth
To arms this night. One on each side, brave knights,
Would I could see you both.

[Exeunt.