University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

A Banqueting Hall, brilliantly illuminated, and set forth with all costly magnificence, with Supper-tables, laden with services of Gold and Silver. A door in the back scene, guarded by two Soldiers. Lords, Ladies, Knights, Gentlemen, &c., whispering sadly, and ranging themselves; part entering and part discovered.
First Knight.
Grievously are we tantaliz'd, one and all—
Sway'd here and there, commanded to and fro
As though we were the shadows of a dream
And link'd to a sleeping fancy. What do we here?

Gonfred.
I am no Seer—you know we must obey
The prince from A to Z—though it should be
To set the place in flames. I pray hast heard
Where the most wicked Princess is?

First Knight.
There, Sir,
In the next room—have you remark'd those two
Stout soldiers posted at the door?

Gonfred.
For what?

[They whisper.
First Lady.
How ghast a train!

Second Lady.
Sure this should be some splendid burial.

First Lady.
What fearful whispering! See, see—Gersa there!

Enter Gersa.
Gersa.
Put on your brightest looks; smile if you can;
Behave as all were happy; keep your eyes
From the least watch upon him; if he speaks
To any one, answer collectedly,
Without surprise, his questions, howe'er strange.
Do this to the utmost,—though, alas! with me
The remedy grows hopeless! Here he comes,—
Observe what I have said,—show no surprise.

Enter Ludolph, followed by Sigifred and Page.
Ludolph.
A splendid company! rare beauties here!
I should have Orphean lips, and Plato's fancy,
Amphion's utterance, toned with his lyre,
Or the deep key of Jove's sonorous mouth,
To give fit salutation. Methought I heard,
As I came in, some whispers,—what of that?
'Tis natural men should whisper; at the kiss
Of Psyche given by Love, there was a buzz
Among the gods!—and silence is as natural.
These draperies are fine, and, being a mortal,
I should desire no better; yet, in truth,
There must be some superior costliness,
Some wider-domed high magnificence!
I would have, as a mortal I may not,
Hanging of heaven's clouds, purple and gold,
Slung from the spheres; gauzes of silver mist,
Loop'd up with cords of twisted wreathed light,
And tassell'd round with weeping meteors!
These pendent lamps and chandeliers are bright
As earthly fires from dull dross can be cleansed;
Yet could my eyes drink up intenser beams
Undazzled,—this is darkness,—when I close
These lids, I see far fiercer brilliances,—
Skies full of splendid moons, and shooting stars,
And spouting exhalations, diamond fires,
And panting fountains quivering with deep glows!
Yes—this is dark—is it not dark?

Sigifred.
My Lord,
'Tis late; the lights of festival are ever
Quench'd in the morn.

Ludolph.
'Tis not to-morrow then?

Sigifred.
'Tis early dawn.

Gersa.
Indeed full time we slept;
Say you so, Prince?

Ludolph.
I say I quarrell'd with you;
We did not tilt each other,—that's a blessing,—
Good gods! no innocent blood upon my head!

Sigifred.
Retire, Gersa!

Ludolph.
There should be three more here:
For two of them, they stay away perhaps,
Being gloomy-minded, haters of fair revels,—
They know their own thoughts best.
As for the third,
Deep blue eyes—semi-shaded in white lids,
Finish'd with lashes fine for more soft shade,
Completed by her twin-arch'd ebon brows—
White temples of exactest elegance,
Of even mould felicitous and smooth—
Cheeks fashion'd tenderly on either side,
So perfect, so divine that our poor eyes
And dazzled with the sweet proportioning,
And wonder that 'tis so,—the magic chance!
Her nostrils, small, fragrant, faery-delicate;
Her lips—I swear no human bones e'er wore
So taking a disguise—you shall behold her!
We'll have her presently; aye, you shall see her,
And wonder at her, friends, she is so fair—
She is the world's chief Jewel, and by heaven
She's mine by right of marriage—she is mine!
Patience, good people, in fit time I send
A Summoner—she will obey my call,
Being a wife most mild and dutiful.
First I would hear what music is prepared
To herald and receive her—let me hear!

Sigifred.
Bid the musicians soothe him tenderly.

[A soft strain of Music.
Ludolph.
Ye have none better—no—I am content;
'Tis a rich sobbing melody, with reliefs
Full and majestic; it is well enough,
And will be sweeter, when ye see her pace
Sweeping into this presence, glisten'd o'er
With emptied caskets, and her train upheld
By ladies, habited in robes of lawn,
Sprinkled with golden crescents; (others bright
In silks, with spangles shower'd,) and bow'd to
By Duchesses and pearled Margravines—
Sad, that the fairest creature of the earth—
I pray you mind me not—'tis sad, I say,
That the extremest beauty of the world
Should so entrench herself away from me,
Behind a barrier of engender'd guilt!

Second Lady.
Ah! what a moan!

First Knight.
Most piteous indeed!

Ludolph.
She shall be brought before this company,
And then—then—

First Lady.
He muses.

Gersa.
O, Fortune, where will this end?

Sigifred.
I guess his purpose! Indeed he must not have
That pestilence brought in,—that cannot be,
There we must stop him.

Gersa.
I am lost! Hush, hush!
He is about to rave again.

Ludolph.
A barrier of guilt! I was the fool.
She was the cheater! Who's the cheater now,
And who the fool? The entrapp'd, the caged fool,
The bird-lim'd raven? She shall croak to death
Secure! Methinks I have her in my fist,
To crush her with my heel! Wait, wait! I marvel
My father keeps away: good friend, ah! Sigifred!
Do bring him to me—and Erminia
I fain would see before I sleep—and Ethelbert,
That he may bless me, as I know he will
Though I have curs'd him.

Sigifred.
Rather suffer me
To lead you to them—

Ludolph.
No, excuse me, no—
The day is not quite done—go bring them hither. [Exit Sigifred.

Certes, a father's smile should, like sun light,
Slant on my sheafed harvest of ripe bliss—
Besides, I thirst to pledge my lovely Bride
In a deep goblet: let me see—what wine?
The strong Iberian juice, or mellow Greek?
Or pale Calabrian? Or the Tuscan grape?
Or of old Ætna's pulpy wine presses,
Black stain'd with the fat vintage, as it were
The purple slaughter-house, where Bacchus' self
Prick'd his own swollen veins? Where is my Page?

Page.
Here, here!

Ludolph.
Be ready to obey me; anon thou shalt
Bear a soft message for me—for the hour
Draws near when I must make a winding up
Of bridal Mysteries—a fine-spun vengeance!
Carve it on my Tomb, that when I rest beneath
Men shall confess—This Prince was gull'd and cheated,
But from the ashes of disgrace he rose
More than a fiery Phœnix—and did burn
His ignominy up in purging fires—
Did I not send, Sir, but a moment past,
For my Father?

Gersa.
You did.

Ludolph.
Perhaps 'twould be
Much better he came not.

Gersa.
He enters now!

Enter Otho, Erminia, Ethelbert, Sigifred, and Physician.
Ludolph.
O thou good Man, against whose sacred head
I was a mad conspirator, chiefly too
For the sake of my fair newly wedded wife,
Now to be punish'd, do not look so sad!
Those charitable eyes will thaw my heart,
Those tears will wash away a just resolve,
A verdict ten times sworn! Awake—awake—
Put on a judge's brow, and use a tongue
Made iron-stern by habit! Thou shalt see
A deed to be applauded, 'scribed in gold!
Join a loud voice to mine, and so denounce
What I alone will execute!

Otho.
Dear son,
What is it? By your father's love, I sue
That it be nothing merciless!

Ludolph.
To that demon?
Not so! No! She is in temple-stall
Being garnish'd for the sacrifice, and I,
The Priest of Justice, will immolate her
Upon the altar of wrath! She stings me through!—
Even as the worm doth feed upon the nut,
So she, a scorpion, preys upon my brain!
I feel her gnawing here! Let her but vanish,
Then, father, I will lead your legions forth,
Compact in steeled squares, and speared files,
And bid our trumpets speak a fell rebuke
To nations drows'd in peace!

Otho.
To-morrow, Son,
Be your word law—forget to-day—

Ludolph.
I will
When I have finish'd it—now! now! I'm pight,
Tight-footed for the deed!

Erminia.
Alas! Alas!

Ludolph.
What Angel's voice is that? Erminia!
Ah! gentlest creature, whose sweet innocence
Was almost murder'd; I am penitent,
Wilt thou forgive me? And thou, holy Man,
Good Ethelbert, shall I die in peace with you?

Erminia.
Die, my lord!

Ludolph.
I feel it possible.

Otho.
Physician?

Physician.
I fear me he is past my skill.

Otho.
Not so!

Ludolph.
I see it, I see it—I have been wandering—
Half-mad—not right here—I forget my purpose.
Bestir, bestir, Auranthe! ha! ha! ha!
Youngster! Page! go bid them drag her to me!
Obey! This shall finish it!

[Draws a dagger.
Otho.
O my Son! my Son!

Sigifred.
This must not be—stop there!

Ludolph.
Am I obey'd?
A little talk with her—no harm—haste! haste! [Exit Page.

Set her before me—never fear I can strike.

Several Voices.
My Lord! My Lord!

Gersa.
Good Prince!

Ludolph.
Why do ye trouble me? out—out—out away!
There she is! take that! and that! no, no—
That's not well done—Where is she?

[The doors open. Enter Page, Several women are seen grouped about Auranthe in the inner room.
Page.
Alas! My Lord, my Lord! they cannot move her!
Her arms are stiff,—her fingers clench'd and cold—

Ludolph.
She's dead!

[Staggers and falls into their arms.
Ethelbert.
Take away the dagger.

Gersa.
Softly; so!

Otho.
Thank God for that!

Sigifred.
I fear it could not harm him.

Gersa.
No!—brief be his anguish!

Ludolph.
She's gone—I am content—Nobles, good night!
We are all weary—faint—set ope the doors—
I will to bed!—To-morrow—

[Dies.