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| 2. | Scene II |
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 | The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers |  |
Scene II
(A parlour in the Convent of Santa Maria della Pieta. The bell is tolling for midnight vespers. Enter Comptessa, Angela di Pianneza, attended by the Madre of the Convent).Madre
Where is thy son?
Angela
He will be here tonight.
Madre
I hear he is a noble boy.
Angela
He is
A noble boy—the fountain of my life
Madre
The current of thy life, thou shouldst have said;
Thou art the fountain—he the stream.
8
We are
So one another unto each. The stream
Returns to feed the fountain, as the fount
The stream; without the one the other could
Not live.
Madre
And yet thou livest without thy boy.
Angela
Our seldom meetings oftener touch the heart.
Madre
I was a mother once.
Angela
Where is thy child?
Madre
He will not visit me tonight!
Angela
Is he
Afar in some strange land?
Madre
Not strange to him.
Angela
Will he not come again?
9
No more!
Angela
No more?
How fearfully it sounds!
Madre
No sound like that!
That echo which the grave gives back to us,
When the last clod is hurled upon it from
Above!
Angela
Then he is dead?
Madre
Alone in heaven.
You are mistaken in the dead—they do
Not die—they live again.
Angela
Died he at birth?
Madre
He died when young—the loadstar of my life
The brightest in the heaven of women's love!
Angela
I pity thee, because thy son is dead!
10
Pity thyself—because thy son is dead!
Angela
He is not dead?
Madre
Long as he lives on earth.
Angela
Alas! what if he were?
Madre
Then he were blest.
Earth has no joy—the soul no home, but heaven.
Angela
But then a mother's love is great.
Madre
It is
The greatest of all earthly things—but not
The joy of heaven.
Angela
But you would have him here?
Madre
I would—but rather he were there in joy,
Than here in grief! Methinks I see him now!
The memory of his smile, how bright it is!
The Angels play about his couch tonight!
11
Think you he hovers near us now?
Madre
He does
In that immortal shape that cannot die!
I hear his voice from out the past—it speaks
To me!
Angela
Who spake to you! I heard no voice!
Madre
The spirit of my child! Its knock is heard at the door.
Angela
Fernando should be here.
Madre
Let him alone.
For you there is much joy—for him the path
Of life is strewn with thorns! A knock again!
Open the door—some person comes.
Angela
(going)
Tis he!
(Enter Charles Stuart with his daughter Madalena).
Charles Stuart
I pray you pardon me, good madre mine,
For this intruding at so late an hour;
12
That this Senora is entrusted as
A boarder to thy care. She is my child,
A Cardinal will tell you who she is,
This letter recommends her to your care. (Giving her the letter).
So now, my best beloved—my only child—
Farewell!
Madalena
Nay, father! do not leave me yet!
Oh! is it not too hard to part from thee? (Falling in his arms).
Charles
It is, sweet daughter! but it must be so!
Once more, sweet Madalena, fare thee well!
(Embracing her, and exits).
Angela
The royal Madalena should not weep
Come, royal lady, this is out of place,
And sadly will affect your noble mind!
Madalena
Sweet Angela! forgive these tender tears,
And know, my sacred mother, that they fall
Not for myself, but for my sire alone!
13
Beneath the guardian Angel of your love,
To guard me from the watchful eyes of those
Who would exterminate this hated race?
I feel that he must fall!
Angela
Nay, think not so,
For he that wears upon his lofty brow
The impress of his royal father's seal,
Can never fail of rich success.
Madalena
(aside)
There is
But one alternative—one hope is left—
And that shall frame the purpose of my soul,
At whose invention all the world shall gaze!
I will not chain my fortitude for naught,
But climb Ambition's ladder to the top,
And make my noble daring, overleap
All but the deathless love that gave it birth!
As woman's love transcends all other love,
So shall her Fortitude, the child of love,
Be made the prompter of such noble deeds
As kings shall wonder at with loftiest thought,
And find no parallel on earth or sea!
14
Come, royal lady, we must now to bed,
See, it is growing late, the lamps are dim.
(Exeunt omnes.)
| The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers | |