 | Count Julian |  |
SCENE I.
Room in the Castle. Morning.Rupert,
alone.
They were not baseless then those visions, and
What seem'd importunate imaginings,
Were suppliant children of true memory.—
Here was I cradled.—Yesterday, a guest,
Chance-thrown within these haughty towers;—now,
Their wondering master; while houseless and stript
Wake they who this night slept securely 'neath them.—
What are our wills, if thus from wealth to want,
From life to death we're toss'd? Our boldest thoughts,—
Like aims to thwart the elemental courses,—
Recoil to crush us, when their purposes
Are counter to the mind whence th' elements
Their movement and our brains their action draw.
But what is counter?—I am little read
In th' occult book of life; yet I believe,
We then are safest, when our thought bear least
The burthen of our own necessities;
But if within ourselves our wishes end,
The heart will fester in its uncropt grossness.
Can we not make our life a constant giving,
And by the purging flow so clean thus keep us,
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Quite unassailable?—If this could be?—
O! uncle, what a chastisement is thine!
I'll lay the fiends, that hissing from th' abyss
Whence I was snatcht, have stung thee near to madness.
The planner of the monstrous deed, will she
Feel too releas'd to learn 'twas left undone?
And Rudolf?—But with him I'll share what most
He values. Happily he prizes not
The richest treasure.—Hither he comes.
(Enter Rudolf.)
Rudolf.
Well, Rupert; still no tidings from your father?
Rupert.
Aye, and of strangest import.
Rudolf.
He desires
Your quick return?
Rupert.
Not so.
Rudolf.
He's a kind father,
To let you play so long and he at work.
Rupert.
Kind is he truly; and were I to waste
In trivial sport time which on him lay heavy
With labour's yoke, I should approve myself
A spendthrift of his bounty. I have told you,
That not by birth our present lot we have,—
Rudolf.
And I believe it, on my word I do.—
But come, I've order'd horses, and myself
A league or so will hold you company,
Your father, I am sure, misses you much.
Rupert.
I look to see him here.
Rudolf.
(Aside.)
I am a fool
To think with hints to pierce this rustic's hide.
None but a gentleman can understand
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That for the service you have done me, Rupert,
I ever shall be mindful, you may judge
From proof you have already of my nature,
Having here treated you, an unknown stranger,
As you had been my equal. This should end,
Being unsuited to our differing ranks.
'Tis fit that you return now to your home.
Here is a well-fill'd purse, and here a ring,
Which keep as token of my recollection
Of our first meeting.
Rupert.
That should give the token
Its worth is wanting. For the gold, if I
Were poor, I could not take it. Deeds there are
From man to man which, till you coin the soul,
Cannot be made of marketable value.
For my intent here to remain, to-morrow
I'll give you reasons shall content you fully.
(Going.)
Rudolf.
Intent—to-morrow!—Young man, yet a word.
Within the hour see that you quit the castle.
This I command: your part is to obey.
The mischief done by kindness I'll undo.
Rupert.
Count Rudolf, if by birth you claim to rule me,
Know, I'm your equal.
Rudolf.
Ha!—I will believe you.
Now answer with your sword the wrong you've done me.
(Draws.)
Rupert.
If I have wrong'd you, I submit myself
Unto your will to take due reparation.
In one scale set the wrong: I on the other
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My body, limb by limb, until stern Justice,
Holding the balance, shall cry out, ‘Enough,
The wrong is lifted.’—But my sword I wear
For other service.
Rudolf.
Nimble-tongu'd impostor,
The blade I drew as 'gainst a worthy foe
I'll use it as a rod for chastisement.
(Strikes him.)
Rupert.
(Quickly drawing.)
Now parry for your life.
(They fight.)
Nurse.
(Rushing in.)
Help! Help! within there,
Help! Help!
(Attendants run in and part them.)
Rudolf, you know not what you do.
Rupert.
Some other time.
Rudolf.
(Aside to Rupert.)
Meet me a half hour hence.
Without the castle gate. We'll seek a spot
Where we shall be unhinder'd.
Rupert.
I'll not fail you.
(Exeunt severally.)
| Count Julian | |