Scene I
Mirandola, a magnificent Apartment in the Palace of
Charles Stuart. He is seated on a sofa reading a
letter. Enter his daughter, Madalena, with a bouquet
of flowers in her hand.
Charles Stuart
(coming forward)
I have received most joyous news from France,
The Cardinal informs me in this letter,
That every thing is ripe for active war;
And earnestly requests me, in the same,
To be in Paris by the earliest date,
And thence embark for Britain.
Madalena
Nay, sweet sire!
It cannot be that we must part?
Charles Stuart
We must,
Sweet Madalena! we must part tonight—
Tomorrow I must be in Rome.
Madalena
Tonight,
Dear father? Would you have me here alone?
Charles Stuart
I am appointed General of the Troops.
Prepared for Scotland, whither we now go
To seat thy royal sire upon the throne,
Of his great ancestors.
Madalena
But should you fall?
Charles Stuart
I have prepared for thee the best of homes,
The convent, where, if I should chance to fall
The arm of persecution will be stayed.
Madalena
The convent would be death without thy love!
Charles Stuart
Nay, do not weep, but rest assured it is
The royal House of Scotland calls me hence;
For now my ardent spirit pants to see
The diadem of Caledonia wave
In glory over Stuart's lictour once more;
And when that fatal hour shall come, in which
The destiny of Brunswick shall be sealed,
And Scotland's deathless glory shall be made
An epitaph for England in her grave,
Then shall the royal Madalena share
The glory that encircles Charles' brow,
And down the stream of time descend with him
To after ages, as the holiest name
That ever graced the noble line of kings.
Madalena
I know it is your duty calls you hence,
And feel it is most fruitless to complain;
But then, you know, to mourn is woman's lot!
And, oh! to part from one we hold so dear,
It seems like taking from the rill its source,
And then expecting that that rill should run!
Charles Stuart
Come, Madalena we will part in joy
Madalena
Can not the sceptre of Placenza shield
The child of Valentina from all harm?
Charles Stuart
The royal arm from which you might expect
Protection, looks most jealously upon
The house of Stuart, who is but, at most,
Thy Princess mother's distant relative,
And whose imperial law of state is, none
But male descendants can ascend the throne;
Therefore, the Convent is the safest place,
Where, if by some base hand I chance to fall,
My marriage with thy mother still unknown
To England—you may be protected by
Good Angela, the tutoress of your youth,
And Madre of the Convent. Come, my child.
Madalena
Then it must be—there is no other hope!
(Exeunt.)
