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| 3. | SCENE III |
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 | The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers |  |
SCENE III
(Street in Mirandola. Enter Sir Ronald. He perceives a wild swan soaring through the heavens.)Sir Ronald
Thou art soaring away, beautiful bird,
Upon thy pinions into distant land,
Bathing thy downy bosom's loftiest flight
169
From snowy home through heaven's unclouded depths,
As now thy pillowed wings are cleaving heaven?
(Enter Fernando.)
Most noble youth,
You live in Mirandola, do you not?
Fernando
I do. Are you a stranger in this place?
Sir Ronald
I am. You see it by this Highland dress.
Fernando
A Scottish garb? What news from Scotland now?
Sir Ronald
Ah, sad indeed.
Fernando
You tell me that by your looks
The noble Stuart has been beat, they say?
Sir Ronald
Charles Stuart? Do you know that man?
Fernando
I do.
Know you the Prince?
Sir Ronald
I know him well.
170
Were you
A soldier in the war?
Sir Ronald
I was. But know
You not his daughter Madalena?
Fernando
Ah,
That precious name! Call that sweet name again!
It gives me more than joy?
Sir Ronald
(Aside)
What can he mean?
It cannot be that she is false? Ah, no,
She is too pure—too good for that. Are you
Acquainted with that name?
Fernando
The name most dear
To me of all on earth—linked with my joy
In life—my hopes in Heaven.
Sir Ronald
(Aside)
If she is false,
May all the thunderbolts of Heaven descend
Upon me now! Tread mountains into vales,
And overwhelm the sea, ye mighty gods,
171
Fernando
What is the matter now?
Are you in grief?
Sir Ronald
In grief? What is thy name?
Fernando
Fernando.
Sir Ronald
(Aside)
Gods! the very name she chose
To shrine her from the world! She loved the man,
Or she had chosen not his name! The name
By which I knew her first. I love that name.
He must be noble. Else she had not chosen
His name. It cannot be that she is false!
No, no, it cannot be!—Thy mother's name?
Fernando
Is Angela.
Sir Ronald
The tutoress of her youth.
The one she called her mother, oh, ye Heavens!
Fernando
Why is this changeful mood? Are you in love?
172
(Aside)
He taunts me, conscious of his triumph.—No!
The green oasis of my life is one
Eternal wilderness of wo!
Fernando
The same as mine!
A few short months ago, my hopes were bright;
They led me to the gates of joy where Love
Stood smiling, beckoning me to bliss, when, all
At once, their snowy wings grew dark as night,
And Grief now stands my only comfortor.
Sir Ronald
Has she rejected him? It must be so.
My Madalena is not false. No, no,
I fear we are twin-mated in our grief.
Fernando
Then we can feel each other's loss the more.
The world cannot repay. I was betrothed.
Sir Ronald
But not to Stuart's daughter?
Fernando
No, to one
Most beautiful, as much like her as if
They had been twins.
173
You keep me on the rack—
She is the same!
Fernando
Not so, it is not so.
Sir Ronald
Her name—
Fernando
Is Madalena
Sir Ronald
'Tis the same!
Fernando
It is not so.
Sir Ronald
Where is she now?
Fernando
Ah, lost,
Forever lost! Our wedding day was set;
And on that day, attired, she disappeared,
And no one's eyes have ever seen her since.
Sir Ronald
The embers of aspiring joy begin
To glimmer in my heart again. One ray
Of hope falls on my soul, like that first star
174
Not false—no, no—I shall be happy yet.
Fernando
What is thy grief?
Sir Ronald
Is Madalena well?
On this hangs all my joy.
Fernando
I understand
She takes the veil tonight.
Sir Ronald
Tonight, the veil!
Why so?
Fernando
I do not know—some private grief.
Sir Ronald
Now then the withering dew of grief falls on
My bud of joy again. It shall not be!
Where shall I find her? At the Chapel? Speak!
Fernando
I think you will. It is about the hour.
Sir Ronald
Then show me to the chapel—quick!
175
No use—
The gates are locked.
Sir Ronald
Then show me to her house.
Come—do not tarry here. My life is thine.
Why do you linger thus?
Fernando
You are in love.
Sir Ronald
In more than love—my heart is now on fire!
For know, my soul was linked to her by ties
Of undissolving love! As two young plants,
With seeds alike, are grafted into one,
But yield, according to each differing germ,
A different kind of fruit—so were our hearts.
Her absence is the sepulchre of all
My joy!
Fernando
And hers the epitaph of mine.
Sir Ronald
I was a part of every thing that was,
Of which she was the spirit—she the all
Of every part of every thing that was,
176
(Enter Francisco)
My friend!
Monk
What do I see? Are you alive or dead?
The real Ronald, flesh and blood, or are
You, what the rest have been, what you are not!
Sir Ronald
I am just what I am—just what you see.
Monk
Then you are different from the rest of us;
For we are not what we appear to be. (To Fernando.)
Are you a man, a woman, or a ghost?
Fernando
I am much nearer Death than you.
Monk
Were you
That king, himself, I would not be surprised.
Fernando
We are the playthings of our fate! We live,
And die—and thus an end of us.
Monk
We then
Begin to live. We shall exist in truth,
And not as phantasies, as we do here.
177
Look here! What think you of the soul? Is it
A mere traduction from the parent plant?
Monk
No, it was born—born of the breath of God,
So Job affirms.
Fernando
Think you that any thing,
Derived can live forever?
Monk
Ay, it can,
If he who made it, wills it so.
Fernando
Where think
You love was born?
Sir Ronald
Its birthplace is the heart,
Fernando
They say it has no eyes.
Monk
'Tis Argus—eyes;
Of all things felt, not seen, it has most power.
Sir Ronald
It lives through all eternity, which is
178
For in the circle of his love it dwells,
A boundless circle in a circle.
Fernando
True—
A circle is the nearest to its form.
Monk
It must be round—it keeps me on the round.
Sir Ronald
Where is the Prince?
Monk
I hope he has not changed,
And if you are Fernando, as you seem,
And not another, I have news for you.
Fernando
There is but one thing that I wish to hear,
And, that is, that my Madalena lives.
Monk
Then you shall hear most joyful news. She lives
Now in the convent awaiting thy return.
Fernando
What, now?
Monk
Even now.
179
Why were the gates kept locked?
Monk
For reasons reasonless—now all explained.
Fernando
Ah, ravish not my heart with too much joy!
But is she well?
Monk
She is most well—but sad—
Expecting thy return so long delayed.
For you, Sir Ronald, you have come in time
To see your Madalena veiled.
Sir Ronald
What is
The hour?
Monk
One hour from this.
Sir Ronald
I thank high Heaven
Fernando
As we were friends in grief, so let us be
In joy.
Sir Ronald
Away, there is no joy for me! (Exit.)
180
Nay, Ronald, stay! You will not find the way!
No, he is gone. Oh, you have filled my heart
With too much joy. Come, we must seek her now.
(Exeunt.)
| The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers | |