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And love for Rosalie. The King desires his marriage with Matilda. He refuses, and seeking interview with Rosalie, was by her father, in her presence, arrested.

Manf.

Have you been summoned hither by the king?

Alph.

I have.

Osm.

And so have I.

Manf.

What may this mean?

Alph.

We soon shall know; here comes his majesty.

Enter King, Chamberlain, Attendants, Roger, as clown, on one side; on the other, Orontio, Rosalie, Blanche, Bernardo.
King.

Chamberlain, where is the princess?

Cham.

This letter, addressed to your majesty, just now delivered into my hands, is from her highness.

King.

Read it, Orontio.

Oron.
[Reads.]

“I beseech the King to forgive me: I beseech my father to forgive me. The hand of God has guided my blind footsteps, and led me to the convent of St. Cecilia as my only home on earth.

“Matilda.”

King.

Poor child! too good art thou to need forgiveness of guilty man. Well; it may be thou hast done the best for thyself. Thou wast too guileless for this pitfall of a world.— [A tumult heard without.]
What is that noise?

Cham.
[Coming from the window.]

The people, sire demand that the prince be liberated.

King.

Where is the prince? He should be here.

An Att.

Sire, he refuses to leave his room.

King.

Command him in our name. [Exit Attendant.
[Tumult increases.]
Where is the captain of the guard? Enter Captain.
Captain, what means this mob at the very gates of the Palace?

Capt.

Your majesty, it is no common mob. The people are assembled in a multitude of many thousands.

Re-Enter Attendant.
Att.

Sire, I delivered your command to the prince. His highness bids me dutifully say to your Majesty, that he prays you to give him his liberty. Here he would be no freer than in his chamber; and so he refuses to quit it.

King.

Besieged in our palace by our people, and our son claiming to be absolved from our rule. Be it so. Tell Prince Tancred he shall be free to do, go, speak, act, as he in his ripe wisdom shall choose. [Exit Attendant.]
Captain, throw open the portals of the Palace to the populace, and bid the new sovereign take possession. [Exit Captain.]
Francisco, we will teach you in Sicily things that you would never have learnt in Spain.

Rog.

I am glad, sire, to profit so much by travel. Spain is a country wherein one learns never a new thing.

Re-Enter Captain.
Capt.

The people cry, “Long life to the King,” and are dispersing.

Enter Tancred, and kneels before the King.
King.

Nay, Tancred, rise. For a man so free as you now are, this obeisance is unbecoming.

Tanc.
[Rising.]

I pray your Majesty, mock me not. More than ever I am your dutiful son and subject. The liberty you have given me I would use within the sacred bounds of right; seeking through it to fill more fruitfully the measures of my life; wronging no man, least of all your Majesty. [He advances to Rosalie, and taking her hand, says to Orontio,

who stands next to her]
have I your permission? [Orontio with dignity and feeling, acquiesces without words. Tancred then returns with Rosalie to the King, and, both kneeling before him, says:]
Father, we ask thy benediction.

King.
[With emotion.]

my blessing on you both. Rise up, my daughter. [They rise.]

Tanc.

To crown this day's great happiness, I have one more petition to your majesty.

King.

'Tis granted ere 't is named.

Tanc.

The recall of my friend, Count Roger.

King.

Herald, proclaim the pardon and recall from banishment of Count Roger of Susa.

Tanc.

First, I crave of your Majesty and these gentlemen forgiveness to the count for any and all wrongs real or imagined up to this hour, by him committed against any one of them.

All.

Granted most fully.

Herald.

Know all men, that by his Majesty's decree—

Rog.

Speak louder; so that should the count happen to be in Germany, he may hear you.

[Exit.
Herald.

Know all men, that by his Majesty's decree, Count Roger of Susa is hereby recalled from banishment.

King.

Orontio—my son choosing for himself has chosen so well—trust the discretion of your niece to do the same.

Oron.

Sire, I have ever found her trustworthy, and readily yield her this liberty.

King.

Come, Blanche; your husband shall be a duke: name him.

Blan.

Your Majesty does not jest?

King.

Nay, I pledge to you my royal word.

Blan.

Father—

Oron.

Good Blanche, choose: thy choice shall be mine.

Blan.

I choose Francisco.

King, Orontio, and Others.

The clown!

Blan.

The same.

King.

He is Duke Francisco.

Rog.
[Running in.]

Here I am, your Majesty. [Kneels.]
[As the King gazes at him, he takes off the fool's cap.]

King and Others.

Count Roger!

Rog.

Who will not rise till he has your Majesty's forgiveness.

King.

That Count Roger shall never have: it is for the duke. Rise up, Duke Roger. [Roger rises.]
Who but yourself could have played us so shrewd a trick?

Rog.

What king but your Majesty would have forgiven it so generously?

King.

This ends very like a comedy, where, albeit the young have their own way, things turn out happily. Well, Orontio, let us take revenge, in the wish, that their children may do as well.

Rog.

We all have cause to be satisfied:—your Majesty, in that the prince your son is shown to have a heart that beats healthily, a manly will—the prime virtue in a ruler—and qualities that win the love of the people, wherein lies the strength of a kingdom;—you, Orontio, that having given a life of high labor to the service of the crown, the crown shall pass to the heirs of your blood, and thus your fidelity as parent

and minister receive a truly regal recompense;—you, Alphonso, that not the wills of others have bound you in those bonds which are only then pure when entered into spontaneously; —you, noble Osmond, that you have not exchanged the tried comforts of single freedom for the untried blessings of yokedom, and that you are still the conspicuous chief of bachelors, instead of being merged in the common herd of the married.

Osm.

I like the phrases “herd” and “yokedom.”

Rog.

I perceive you are already comforted;—for you, Count Manfred, think of the maidens of Palermo, and to what rejoicing they will give themselves when you return to them unmarried;—for me, my tongue, though, as you perceive, not tied by modesty, has no craft to speak my contentment.—It remains but that you be satisfied; [to the Audience.]

And that you will be, if our Play
Has waked your better thought,
And then illumed it with the ray
In the calm glow of beauty wrought.
It is the Poet's hallowed part,
So regally to speak the truth,
That it shall stir the ready heart,
Like morning sunbeam sleeping youth.
His peerless office is, to enrich
The mind with its own beauties,
Tuning its chords to the high pitch
Of sweet ideal duties.

[Exeunt.