University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

A Pavilion at Valmont.
Enter the Marquis Valmont and Prince Montalva.
Valmont.
It shall be so! Think not, my honour'd liege,
That after a long life of busy toil
My reason can be sway'd by a weak girl:
From the first dawn of helpless infancy,
I've taught her mild obedience to my will,
And count upon her duty more than love.

Montalva.
I know her fix'd aversion to my son.

Valmont.
So weak a thought will not disturb my hopes.
Firm to my purpose, tho' the heav'ns should yawn,
And hurl their red bolts on my aged head,
I would not waver! For your son has worth
That makes his high descent his second claim!
This day, in single combat, he shall prove
The bravest youth that Lombardy e'er saw.

Montalva.
The sacred friendship that has link'd our minds,
From the warm sunny hour of lusty youth
To the chill winter of declining age,
First turned my fancy towards the fair Honoria!
Yet, rather than by sorrow's icy touch
To bend so sweet a blossom to the grave,
I would renounce my hopes, and her, for ever.

Enter Duke Albert.
Albert
to Valmont.
I greet you, noble Sir; and in your looks
Behold the herald of my future joy.

Montalva.
Alas! my son, fate frowns upon thy hopes;
The fair Honoria, rich Italia's star ------

Albert.
Say, what of her? Is there from nature's hand
So rare a model of transcendent worth?
The brilliant Hesperus that leads the day
Is not so cheering to the Pilgrim's sight
As she to mine!

Montalva.
Now, Albert, hear me speak:
When last I saw her, on the tender theme,
I mark'd on her pale cheek a trickling drop
The silent herald of approaching woe!

Albert.
O! 'tis the pure and fascinating gem
That nature gives to maiden modesty,
To make her work more lovely! Does not the flow'r
Most court the sense when deck'd with morning's tears?

Montalva.
And wouldst thou blast the sweet, the drooping bud?
Come, like a nipping, an untimely frost,
And wither all its beauties to the dust?
My son, I will not think so basely of thee;
A noble nature cannot taste of joy
That leaves another bankrupt and forlorn.

Albert.
I know that love can take all forms to please;
And think not that I nurse too vain a fancy,
If I dare hope Honoria will be mine!
A blush of meek complacency o'erspread
The snow of her pure bosom, when I told
My tale of tender import! Thus we mark
The lily, blended in a garland sweet,
Flush'd with the soft reflection of the rose!

Valmont.
Enter Honoria.

Honoria.
Indeed! I think this mandate somewhat cruel!
Relentless pow'r may drag me to the altar;
But the free soul shrinks from the tyrant's grasp
And lords it o'er oppression!

Valmont.
Silence, rash girl!
Again I urge, and with a father's right,
A proud alliance with the noble Albert.

Honoria.
Perish his name! for it is hateful to me.
O! I had rather be the poorest wretch
That on the barren mountain stands forlorn,
An exile from his kindred and his home,
Than barter honesty for empty shew!
Those who for paltry gold would part with peace
At best can prove themselves but thrifty fools.

Valmont,
grasping Honoria's hand.
Take heed, ungrateful girl, and mark me well;
The soul of Valmont cannot brook denial.

Honoria.
------ By yon azure dome
That flings its wondrous concave o'er the world,
I will encounter poverty or death
Rather than sell my freedom! This proud heart
Would burst with indignation, could my tongue
Pronounce a vow degrading to its honour!
Does the vain suitor arrogantly hope
To buy me like a slave?

Valmont.
Think on the splendours that await thy will.

Honoria.
Can the gay wreaths that bind a victim's breast
Conceal the agony that throbs within?
Give to the child of folly toys for fools;
My soul disdains them! I am Valmont's daughter;
Nor will I e'er disgrace my noble name
By being less than what that title makes me!

Valmont.
I would augment the lustre of thy days,
Place thee amidst such dazzling rays of glory,
That ev'ry eye should wonder to behold thee!

Honoria.
So the fierce flame of a meridian sun
Gilds the poor insect which it dooms to death!

Valmont.
Perverse destroyer of a father's hopes!
And dar'st thou disobey, when I command?

Honoria.
I dare not sell my soul!

Valmont.
Go, self-will'd fool!
Thy disobedience covers me with shame!
Oh! had thy mother liv'd, her gentle heart
Had throbb'd with anguish at thy wayward scorn;
'Tis for thy honour I this union urge,
What else can prompt me?—

Honoria.
Ambition!—not that emulative zeal
Which wings the tow'ring souls of godlike men!
But bold, oppressive, self-created pow'r,
That, trampling o'er the barrier of the laws,
And scattering wide the tender shoots of pity,
Strikes at the root of reason, and confines
Nature itself in bondage! Oh! 'tis vile!
But, thank the Gods! no spells can curb the mind,
While splendour's proudest claim is less than virtue!

Montalva.
Honoria, spare thy anguish and thy scorn;
And know, that ere the glories of my name
Should dimly gleam beneath a tear of thine
I would behold them perish; curs'd be those
Who, to advance their own ambitious hopes,
Would trample on the rights of truth and nature! [Trumpets without.

My son, that summons chides thy tardy lance!
I will attend thee, boy. Valmont, farewell.

[Exeunt Montalva and Albert.
Honoria.
Who is the cautious hero that accepts
The vaunting challenge of the haughty Albert?

Valmont.
I dare not tell; for 'tis the stranger's wish
That none should seek to know his rank or name.
From Sicily he comes, and nobly born;
Right well he wields the lance, and is most apt
In feats of chivalry and bold exploit!

Honoria.
From Sicily! my soul is chill'd with fear! [Aside.

Sir, I attend your will, and proud shall be
To witness Albert's valour! for believe,
Altho' I cannot love, I can be just;
Nor will the hero's youthful laurels fade
Because they twine not with the myrtle bough.

[Exeunt.