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 | The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers |  |
Act III
[Scene I]
(Ormaclade. Macdonald's residence in the background. Enter Sir Ronald and Madalena as Page.)Sir Ronald
But tell me, gentle Page! how is thy hand?
I would that it were well, we lack thy songs,
57
But more, the pleasing sadness of thy voice.
Page
I would forego the pleasures of my harp,
To know that they are masters of the day.
Sir Ronald
They are, as you desire, the masters of the day.
They nobly routed all their foes.
Page
We live!
But are you sure that we will conquer?
Sir Ronald
Yes,
Unless the sightless Chariot of Fate
Should drive his iron wheels above our hopes,
And crush the life blood from our royal Charles!
As if the eternal thunder rolled above
The fragments of dissolving empire!
Page
Shout!
And let the caverns of the mighty earth
Reverberate the loud acclaim! Shout! shout!
And make the echoes of our joyful hearts
The knell of England's destiny!
58
The Chiefs
Are shouting now upon the far-off hills,
Until the mighty mountains echo back
Their thunderbolts of vengeance on the foe!
Soon shall the mighty arm of royal Charles
Unsheathe the blazing sword, whose edge shall cut
The adamantine chains of Tyranny.
For now they cry aloud for Scotland's King,
While we stand here debating how they fought.
(Enter Francisco, the Monk, who gazes intently at the Page, who, seeing him, falls in Sir Ronald's arms.)
Page
Come, quick! away from this! my heart is sick!
Sir Ronald
For Heaven's sweet sake, Fernando, speak! what is
The matter? What could thus have harmed you so?
Page
(The Monk passes on slowly)
There, nothing now, Sir Ronald, give me air.
Sir Ronald
I pray you, tell me what it is? (The Monk passes out)
Page
(Recovering)
There, now,
'Tis nothing now. I am most well again.
59
Sir Ronald
But why do you thus gaze at nothing so,
As if you were absorbed in your own thoughts?
Methinks you are unwell.
Page
No, not at all.
I was just thinking of that beauteous girl,
The lovely Madalena.
Sir Ronald
What of her?
Page
I thought how purely beautiful she looked,
As softly radiant as the peaceful Heaven,
When first aurora comes with rosy smiles,
To ope the portals of the dappled East,
And lead the morning forth to light the world.
Sir Ronald
Who is the lovely Madalena, Page?
Page
She is the royal Prince's only child.
Sir Ronald
Ah! Young Fernando! are you sure in love?
60
Where is she now? Come, tell me where she is?
Page
Ah! if you had beheld her dark bright eyes,
When we were doomed to part, suffused with tears!
Sir Ronald
But why not tell me where she is?
Page
She is—
Her father left her at the convent—with
My mother Angelica. Would she were here.
Sir Ronald
But say, Fernando, are you not in love?
Come, do not say it is not so, you are!
These fainting fits are symptoms of such things.
Page
And then, Sir Ronald, you have been in love?
Sir Ronald
I would be, were you not now in the way.
Methinks, from what you have just said, that she
Was formed to be the partner of my joys.
Why change, as if you had entire control
Of her?
61
I have more right than you may think.
But is it true that you could love that girl?
Sir Ronald
Why ask so oft? Are you not jealous, boy?
Page
I would be jealous were you now in love
With any one beside, but you are not?
Sir Ronald
Most fascinating boy! were you but now
A woman, beautiful as now thou art,
I would prefer thee to the world.
Page
And were
Fernando any thing but what he is,
He would prefer Sir Ronald to the world.
Sir Ronald
Methinks, one smile would win me from the war
And make me subject unto her alone.
Page
Well, you acknowledge your allegiance soon,
For she is heiress to the Scottish throne.
Sir Ronald
The Mirandolean Minstrel then can stand
62
Page
True, did you ever know
A Princess marry with her father's Page?
Sir Ronald
I never did.
Page
Then why retrive the day
In love.
Sir Ronald
I only asked if it were so.
You may have been in love with her, without
Her absolutely being so with you,
For if my eyes do not deceive me, as
I do profess to be some sort of judge
In matters of this kind, you are in love.
Page
Indeed, Sir Ronald, you astonish me!
Sir Ronald
Most persons are astonished why they love.
Page
Then you have been astonished in that way?
Come—no prevarication—speak the truth.
63
Indeed you need not urge me to confess.
But should we thus marvel at such things?
I love the royal Stuart as my life;
And would, to shield him from the foe, rush in
And sheathe the dagger that was aimed at him,
In my own heart.
Page
(Embracing him)
Friend of my raptured soul!
Sir Ronald
From henceforth let the Highland Chieftain's heart
Be mingled with the Mirandolean boy's.
Page
And feel for him what now he feels for thee?
Or what the Princess Madalena yet
May feel for thee?
Sir Ronald
Ay, were thou both combined,
But are you not in love with her.
Page
I am;
But not affianced to her any more
Than unto you, or any one beside.
What if we should behold her here tonight?
64
What would Fernando say?
Page
Why, I should say
That she was worthy to be made thy wife,
Or even an heir to Scotland's throne.
Sir Ronald
But Ronald never can be hers.
Page
Why not?
Sir Ronald
He is too lowly born.
Page
Too lowly born!
A Highlander too low? Were you not born
Upon the hills?
Sir Ronald
I was—upon the mountains top.
Page
Then let your soul be like your birth nigh Heaven.
You are the Eagle—she the faithful Dove.
Sir Ronald
My tongue is bankrupt for sufficient words
To give the praise.
65
Nay, keep them to bestow
On her, who is to be thy wedded wife,
The royal daughter of the godlike Charles.
Sir Ronald
Ah, sweet Fernando, if it could be so,
The love-sick Ronald would forget the war.
Page
It will, if young Fernando have his way.
Sir Ronald
And you have known her from her infancy?
Page
I have. She was the playmate of my youth.
Sir Ronald
I loved the royal Prince before—but now,
I feel endeared to him by stronger ties.
Page
Then will you promise me one thing?
Sir Ronald
I will,
Fernando, promise anything.
Page
Perform
What you may promise?
66
Ay, indeed I will.
Page
Then, swear that you will never wed, except
The royal Madalena.
Sir Ronald
What if she
Be ugly?
Page
She is most beautiful
Yet, gentler than the gentlest of her sex.
Sir Ronald
But what if she will have me not?
Page
She will.
Sir Ronald
I swear! But wherefor do you ask me thus?
Page
It is enough that you have sworn. Come on,
The royal Madalena shall be thing.
(Exeunt)
Scene II
(A splendid apartment in Macdonald's palace at Kinnclade. Enter Charles Stuart to Lochiel.)Charles Stuart
Welcome, my noble Chieftain! What's the news?
67
No news, my noble lord, from France as yet.
Charles Stuart
I recently dispatched new messengers
To those from whom one might expect some aid;
But they have not returned.
Lochiel
They have, my lord.
I read the message of your strange desire
To lead the Highland troops directly on
The field.
Charles Stuart
And doubt you the propriety
Of such a measure now?
Lochiel
I do, my lord,
The enterprise is pregnant with much danger.
Charles Stuart
Why say you so? This is the common right.
No, as the hound will eager cry, pursue,
Through woody vistas all unknown, the hart,
And thus more ardently in the chase,
So does my soul pant for the war!
68
But as that hound, still crying in the chase,
Pursues with eager hopelessness the hart
Till, by the swifter game left farther in
The war, his cries are lost among the woods;
So will the eager heart of godlike Charles
Pursue the unreached boon of his desire,
Through fame's dark vistas till forever lost!
Charles Stuart
No; with the Blast-hound-Furies of the hills,
A few brave Highlanders, we will put
The Royal Standard in the front of war,
And show usurping Brunswick to his face,
That Stuart comes to claim his father's crown!
Though we are few, yet we shall win the field,
Or perish in the attempt! So, curb me not!
Auld Lochiel, whom my father ever thought brave,
Nay, from the papers learn, while housed at home,
The fate of Stuart's House.
Lochiel
No, though the attempt.
To vanquish England's host be more than vain,
Yet every rebel over whom my sword
Can have control, shall take up arms for thee,
69
Await his royal Charles.
Charles Stuart
Then seek at once
The Highland chiefs—tell them their king is here—
And longs to lead them to the battle field.
Lochiel
I go.
To do your bidding, but before we part,
Should they accompany the regular troops?
Without assistance from some other source,
It will be most disastrous to our cause.
Charles Stuart
No; Justice, Honor, Dignity, are on our side,
And where such triune glories wait our steps,
And beckon us to fame—why talk of doubt?
Lochiel
Whatever be Charles Stuart's fate, the same
Be Lochiel's destiny.
Charles Stuart
There seek the Chiefs,
And learn when we shall meet them on the field
(Exit Lochiel.)
70
Come hither, Page. Come near to me. Can you
Not see in my sad countenance the stars
Of joys that have been written there of late?
Page
I think there is not aught of what you speak;
But rather marks of recent grief.
Charles Stuart
'Tis strange!
And know you not that there are things which seem
To be, but yet are not?
Page
It may be so,
But yet Fernando never saw such things.
Charles Stuart
And think you not that one, by gazing on
Some face resembling that she loves, might see
The image of that loved one in that face?
Page
A smile might linger on the face of one,
In faint resemblance of the one away,
For there are faces so resembling each
That persons have mistaken them for such,
And would not be convinced they were not so.
71
Thus, in the outlines of thy beauteous face,
I now behold the countenance of one—
Page
Nay, nay, my lord! There is no truth in this,
(A knock is heard)
Charles Stuart
Whose knock is that? Go see.
Page
I will, my lord.
(Exit Page.)
Charles Stuart
A nobler being never lived! (Reenter Page.)
Page
My lord!
Charles Stuart
Why turn so pale?
Page
(Much agitated)
Our holy father craves
Admittance. (Aside)
Gods! what shall be done?
Charles Stuart
How now!
What means this strange reaction? Speak! thy face
Is pale as death! What means it, boy? thou'st ill?
72
I am not ill, my lord.
Charles Stuart
Why turn so pale?
Page
(Aside)
Gods! is it possible the Monk is here?
(Enter Francisco, the Monk)
Charles Stuart
What means this sudden entrance? speak, my friend!
How is my child? my Madalena? well?
Monk
I trust she is, my lord.
Charles Stuart
Speak out—the truth?
If she be dead or dying, tell me so!
Monk
She is not dead, my lord.
Charles Stuart
I thank high Heavens
That she is well!
Page
She is, my lord, she is
Most well.
73
Then what mishap has brought thee here?
Monk
I dare not tell it to Fernando's ears.
I fear the sudden news would drive him mad!
Charles Stuart
(Aside)
It cannot be that Angela is dead!
Page
Nay, if my mother Angela were dead,
I yet could bear that too—for all must die!
Charles Stuart
Great Heavens! if she is dead, what will become
Of Madalena? Speak, old Monk!
Monk
I trust
She is not dead.
Charles Stuart
Then why to Scotland come?
Monk
I came to soothe the grief of Angela,
And seek Fernando.
Page
Seek Fernando? why?
74
For Madalena's sake.
Charles Stuart
What! say you so?
Are you not tampering with the lion, Monk,
To baffle me this way? Speak what you know,
Or, by yon Heavens!
Monk
Nay, hold, my lord! you should
Not strike your friend!
Charles Stuart
Then tell me why you came?
Monk
For that lost boy, for whom his mother mourns.
Page
And is that all?
Monk
(Aside)
Not moved? no tears are shed?
Ungrateful boy! you little know the pangs
That rend thy mother's heart!
Page
Why should she grieve?
Charles Stuart
Upbraid him not, he is of noble stuff,
75
Monk
Nay, he
Is fitter for an outcast than the throne.
I fear that Angela has spoken truth!
Page
What should she speak but truth?
Monk
What! still unmoved!
Thou dost develope none of her good traits,
Though it was said thou didst inherit all.
I blush to see the golden ore of love
Transmuted by the Alchemy of Fame
To such base stuff! you little know the pangs
That Madalena feels for thee!
Charles Stuart
For thee!
It cannot be! it is impossible!
Page
It is
Impossible, so get you gone, old Monk!
Monk
Ah! had you seen the agonies which rent
Her royal heart!
76
The agonies? It must
Be so, Fernando! Speak, old Monk!
Monk
And speaking, shall command Fernando's tears
With words more powerful than kingly speech.
Charles Stuart
Then you have spoken falsehood all this while?
Monk
Naught but the living truth, my lord.
Page
'Tis true.
My royal lord—she is not dead.
Charles Stuart
Away,
Fernando, I must have the truth!
Page
My lord,
Did ever thy Fernando play thee false?
Charles Stuart
No, never in thy life.
Page
Then, doubt him not—
For may this right arm wither to its joints,
77
I tell thee, Madalena is not dead,
But all that she has ever been, shall be
To thee again.
Charles Stuart
How know you this, my boy?
Page
It shall all be explained, but after this.
Charles Stuart
Most noble boy! I could not blame her if
She loved, for no one ever saw thy face
Who did not love, except this heartless Monk.
Monk
I love him and for his mother's sake,
Who bade me watch above him as my own.
Page
Nay, watch above yourself, you need it more.
I am Fernando, royal Charles' Page,
And will be watched by no one but himself.
Monk
I though you were of tender mould,
And would be melted by the simplest grief,
But now you are more tearless at the heart
Than is the sightless stoic of the woods.
78
As Angela di Pianneza's son,
I weep, but as the royal Charles' Page,
I deem it meet to smile. Goodbye, old Monk.
(turning indignantly away.)
Charles Stuart
Most noble boy! Where are thy tears, old Monk?
Monk
Ah! had thine eyes beheld what mine have seen,
Thy heart, like mine, had been dissolved to tears!
Page
(Returning)
Thy Madalena lives.
Charles Stuart
I know she does.
Farewell, old Monk!
Page
(Tauntingly)
Goodbye, old Monk! goodbye!
(Exeunt Charles Stuart and Page.)
Monk
Good heavens! was ever mortal so beguiled!
I will pursue him to the very last.
(Exit.)
Scene II
(The interior of Macdonald's Park at Ormaclade. His residence in the distance. Enter Lochiel to Boisdale.)79
Lochiel, I tell thee, Lochiel, I have seen
A sight!
Lochiel
A sight, my lord?
Boisdale
A sight, my lord!
A cursed, damned, loathesome sight!
Lochiel
A ghost,
My lord?
Boisdale
No ghost, my lord! No ghost, or if
It be a ghost, a ghost in princely robes,
On whose Medean folds a villan's heart
To desolation burns!
Lochiel
What can he mean?
Boisdale
You are a hypocrite?
Lochiel
(Drawing)
A hypocrite? By heavens!
Boisdale
Put up your sword. I will not fight with thee.
80
Lochiel
You called my hypocrite?
Boisdale
I did, you are.
Lochiel
I say you lie.
Boisdale
I care not what you say;
You could not make me fight you, did you call
Me traitor, liar, thief, or what you please.
Lochiel
You called me hypocrite.
Boisdale
I did, you are.
I thought so once, but now I know you are.
Lochiel
By heavens! you shall not taunt me thus. Defend
Thyself!
Boisdale
Put up your sword. I will not fight
With thee.
Lochiel
Then take that for your insolence.
81
Boisdale
The day will come when you shall howl for this,
Howl like a beaten hound! Put up your sword.
Lochiel
A coward, by my soul!
Boisdale
You know that, else
You had not acted so.
Lochiel
Recall your words,
Or, by heavens, you shall not live for them!
Boisdale
I shall not die by you.
Lochiel
You could not die
By better hands.
Boisdale
When I do die, it shall
Be by what you consider better hands.
Lochiel
(Putting up his sword)
Come home, my sword, he is no work for thee.
Boisdale
There are two things on earth I love to hate.
82
What things are these?
Boisdale
A serpent and a goose.
Lochiel
What does he mean? The man has lost his wits.
Boisdale
Why should I keep my wits when all that made
My wits is gone?
Lochiel
What have you lost?
Boisdale
The world,
The riches of Peru, Golconda's mines.
Not all the bankrupt jewels of the earth
Could buy me back that precious gem again.
Lochiel
What have you lost? I pray you tell me now.
Boisdale
A gem more costly than the stars, from whose
Bright beams the abject world drank living light!
Should he not die?
Lochiel
What frantic mood is this?
83
It is no frantic mood, 'tis truth most true—
And, being truth, what frantic mood so sane?
Lochiel
You are abused, or maddened; which to guess,
I do not know.
Boisdale
I am abused, which heaven
Doth truly know, and madness follows next.
Lochiel
Who has abused you thus?
Boisdale
Were you my friend,
You would not ask. I have no tongue to tell.
A thousand tongues were dumb to give it better!
Lochiel
I shall despair to know your grief.
Boisdale
You would
Despair to know such grief.
Locheil
What? is there no
Relief?
84
Give medicine to a dying man;
A straw to one fast drowning in the sea;
A sound to him who has no ear to hear;
A taste to him who has no tongue to eat;
A sight to him who has no eyes to see;
And each will sooner live, hear, taste and see,
Than Boisdale will find relief!
Lochiel
Alas!
Are you not angry with the king?
Boisdale
Why ask?
To be the herald of my hate?
Lochiel
Thy hatred,
What cares he for thy hate?
Boisdale
It is a man's!
Lochiel
He has been hated by brave men before
Today.
Boisdale
I do not wonder that he has,
85
Lochiel
He lives,
And likely long to live.
Boisdale
Art sure of that?
Lochiel
I know it by my knowledge of the man.
Boisdale
Say rather that you wish it in your love.
Lochiel
You would not like the king?
Boisdale
Oh no, I would
Not kill him—give him to the dogs, the wolves,
The hounds of hell! 'Twere merciful to kill
The king!
Lochiel
Your power is great if measured by
Your words
Boisdale
They are the symbols of that power!
The measure of that soul-subduing power
Which never sleeps! 'Tis on the vigil now,
86
Who robbed me of the sweetest lamb on earth,
Took from my Paradise the sweetest flower
That ever bloomed!
Lochiel
Poor Boisdale, you are
In love.
Boisdale
In love with one who loves me not.
Who was the spring-tide of my life, my soul-love,
Whose smiles were beacons to the Land of Joy,
Whose blue-eyed beauty beckoned me to come,
And drink contentment from the cup of Bliss.
Lochiel
Forget her, man; forget her, let her go.
Boisdale
A base, abandoned profligate, to steal
The only joy I had on earth. Oh, God!
And does that villan live who robbed me thus?
Ay! revels in the joys that once were mine.
Oh, could his life-blood quench my agony,
It were oblivion to my soul indeed!
But I was lowly born, a cottage is
My home. But there is in my heart a pride
87
Not on the throne that Nature owns her sway.
The straw-thatched cottage, where dwells poverty
In mean attire, may hold a heart as great
As that within a Monarch's heart. Then why,
Before th' illusive shadows of rich pomp,
Should simple dignity bow down? It shall
Not be! no, by yon Heavens, it shall not be!
Lochiel
Come, Boisdale, be calm again.
Boisdale
Alas,
A crushed affection has no balm on earth.
My soul is plundered of its richest wealth,
And all the merchandise of earth is naught!
Lochiel
I know no remedy for ills like thine.
Boisdale
An aspirant for Heaven, when on
The threshold of the spies, was not more pure.
A holier vision never met the eyes!
But now, compared with what she was, as Hell
To Heaven! Where is that heavenly beauty now?
The benedictions of whose love fell on
88
Making my heart a paradise of joys.
Her brook-like voice ran through my thirsting soul,
Like silver waters over golden sands.
Lochiel
Become the subject of the king, and you
Shall hear that voice again.
Boisdale
No, Lochiel, no!
For misery's climax will delight to that.
I could not bear to gaze upon those eyes,
Two liquid heavens reflecting love, that face,
From whose sweet smile my soul drank living light—
And she another's! No, it cannot be.
Lochiel
I pity thee! But we must part. Farewell!
Boisdale
Farewell! (Exit Lochiel.)
Now for the king again! Tonight!
An ague-like revenge chills through my soul,
And makes distraction in my heart. Tonight!
(Exit.)
Scene III
(The same apartment in Macdonald's palace at Ormaclade. Flora is seated by a table binding a89
Flora
Ah! he will love me, when I give him this.
A flowery book, whose words of different flowers,
Shall tell him in one volume all my heart.
Ah! how the rose's velvet lips shall speak,
And tell him with mute eloquence my love,
Nature's interpreter of God to man.
Ye are the alphabet by which we read
The poetry of love. An angel's hand
First scattered you on earth that ye might be
A symbol of the heart that cannot speak.
Ye are the perfumed lips by which we speak
A language innocent as pure—as free
From guile as this fond heart which owns you now.
I breathe upon you now, that when he takes
Your fragrance in, he may inhale my sighs.
(Enter Boisdale)
Boisdale
Now she is here alone, could I not save
Her from the king? Oh, how my heart burns in
My heart! Two mighty kings, Love and Despair,
Reign in my heart each subject unto each,
Not knowing which is mightiest! How she smiles!
90
Like beauty on an ivory throne. She fills
The atmosphere around with living light,
It clothes the sinuous sweetness of her limbs,
Like that around an angel's form as when
The seasons smiled on Venus when she rose
Up from the sea. I feel new life run through
My heart, as when some flower disported by
The summer south, unfolds its fragrant leaves
To kiss the god of day! How mild she seems!
I have grown jealous of the very air,
Lest it should bear away some smile unseen.
I will not be—no, I will speak to her.
(Approaching her and kneeling)
Most beauteous Flora! Angel of my heart!
Flora
(Rising)
What! Boisdale?
Boisdale
By name but that alone!
Flora
Why do you kneel?
Boisdale
A worshiper should kneel.
91
You are too kind.
Boisdale
Why look upon me thus?
Flora
Then I will turn my eyes away.
Boisdale
No, no.
Then it were dark again.
Flora
Why talk you thus?
Boisdale
My love is like eternity. It bends
Above thee like the Heavens. It hovers o'er
My spirit like an Angel's wings! Thou art
My sun, the center of that heaven. Without
Thy light my heaven is dark!
Flora
You are too kind.
Are there not other lights?
Boisdale
There is but one
Bright Cynossure; she gazes on me now,
The queen of my soul's heaven.
92
But when that star
Is set, you will forget that it has shone,
To see the real shine bright.
Boisdale
Thou art no star;
Thou art the moon, the satellite of this
Dark earth.
Flora
But when that moon goes down,
The stars will shine again.
Boisdale
But give no light. They will
Not light me through this wilderness of life.
As travelers in this hour of thirst, pant for
The cooling stream, so does my soul for thy
Sweet healing love.
Flora
But there are other streams.
Boisdale
Ah, none shall slake my thirst! The more I drink
The more I want. Thou art my mountain stream,
The purest waters on the face of earth
Are those which rise the highest from the sea.
93
Flora
No danger. Grief has its own balm. There are
In nature medicines for all our ills.
Boisdale
There is no medicine can cure this grief.
Flora
What is thy grief?
Boisdale
Are you so skilled in cures,
And yet know not my grief? You should, to know
The remedy, first know the ill; for there
Are ills which have no cure.
Flora
But none time will
Not heal.
Boisdale
But mine grows worse with age, Alas!
The intenseness of our feelings measures life.
And thus our years are measured by our pains.
If we have many, we have fewer years.
And thus, in one, we live through many lives,
Making that life of many lives our age.
Pain is the scythe which lays our harvest low,
94
It is the unseen worm within the bud,
Born in our heart's deep core!
Flora
You look upon
The dark side of all things.
Boisdale
All things are dark!
Flora
They are but shadows of the light of life,
Life's picture here unfinished else. Pain is
A necessary thing, else life had been
All joy.
Boisdale
Ah, Flora! did you know my heart!
As autumn's damps make sere the fragile leaf,
As sorrow chills the heart of man! One robs
The leaf of all its springtime gaity;
The other robs the heart of all its youth!
Flora, did you know my heart, you would
Be sorry from your soul.
Flora
I'm glad I do
Not know it then.
95
But you should know my heart.
Do you not recollect the hours we spent
In youth?
Flora
I do,
Boisdale
Were they not joyful hours?
Flora
I think they were.
Boisdale
Do you not know then, ever?
Flora
Why ask me this?
Boisdale
Then we were friends.
Flora
Are now!
Boisdale
Then, on the whirlwinds of my passionate soul,
Were all thy blessed words borne up to Heaven!
The dew drop, trembling in the morning's ray,
By Phoebus from the mountain flowret kist,
Was not more vestal than thy virgin heart!
96
Not less so now.
Boisdale
Then let me kiss thy hand!
Flora
Nay, that is wrong.
Boisdale
You did not think so then.
Once you were happy in my love.
Flora
You jest.
Nay, Boisdale, you wish to anger me.
Boisdale
I would not harm you for the world.
Flora
Then hush
Talk not of youth nor love.
Boisdale
Once you were glad
To prattle of those innocent days.
Flora
Then we
Were children, talked as such.
Boisdale
Ah, we have talked
97
Flora
I think you talk so now.
Boisdale
Would you could feel as you did then, that we
Could talk as we did then.
Flora
We have no need
Of children's talk.
Boisdale
We have much need of it.
Thy smiles were then to me as heaven to him,
Who on the threshold of the skies, first gets
A glimpse of immortality. Then—then—
I cut thy name upon a tree; mine was
Above, thine all below; it stands there now,
A living witness of our love. Thy tracks
I used to follow in the sand, as if
They were some book I loved to read. But now,
Where is that childhood now?
Flora
'Tis gone, and think
No more of it.
98
Then I must cease to live.
Ah, Flora! let me kiss thy hand.
Flora
Well then,
You may.
Boisdale
Not that, the left one, next thy heart.
Whose flowers are these?
Flora
Why ask me that?
Boisdale
The kings?
Thus do I crush them to the earth!
(Snatching them from her and trampling on them.)
Flora
Frail man!
Think not to win me from the king this way!
As you have bruised these flowers, so shall he bruise
Thy heart.
Boisdale
Not all the powers on earth could add
One atom to its grief. I am king-proof.
I stand amid the saplings of the woods,
99
To heaven, forgetful of the lightning's blast,
Time-racking hail, or thunder! Why should I
Then, fear thy king? The hour is nigh, at hand,
The thunder-clap of his dark fall shall drown
The breakage of a hundred wrecks at sea.
Flora
No, Boisdale, you shall not harm the king.
He is above thy flight.
Boisdale
My soul soars high,
Higher than Eagle ever flew!
Flora
Then Sir,
Disdain the flight of meaner birds.
Boisdale
I do
Therefore, I hate thy hawk.
Flora
My hawk?
Boisdale
Thy hawk,
Or crow, or vulture, which you please.
100
The king
Shall hear of this.
Boisdale
Would he were here to hear
It now.
Flora
You would not dare to look at him.
He is the sun!
Boisdale
Take care of thine eyes
Flora
They have been tempered to his heavenly beams.
Boisdale
(Aside)
A Pythagoras Prometheus has inspired.
Flora
They have drunk glory from his heavenly smiles.
Away!
Boisdale
You have grown sensitive of late,
The fate of queens.
Flora
You are offensive, Sir!
101
Who saw thy bud of love unfold itself
To heaven? This will be prison to the king.
You loved me then.
Flora
I loved you not.
Boisdale
You said
You did.
Flora
No, had I loved you then, this last
Rash act had swept it all away, even as
The ocean, in his angry mood, sweeps off
The name once written on his shore! Farewell!
(Exit.)
Boisdale
Oh, God! if ever there was Hell on earth,
If ever there was Hell beyond the grave,
No, all the Hells in Hell were heaven to this.
A calculating coldness fills my heart.
With awful coldness. Yes, the king shall die!
And down descend plague-spotted into Hell,
With everlasting curses on his soul.
(Exit.)
End of Act Third
| The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers | |