University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

—A vast hall in Colonna's palace, filled with statues.—The moon streams in through the gothic windows, and appears to fall upon the statues. A chamber-door at the back.
Enter Ludovico and the King, R. H. D.
Lud.
This is the way, my liege. Colonna bade me
Conduct you to your chamber, while he went
To seek the fair Evadne, and conduct
Her soft reluctance to your highness' arms.

King.
Ludovico, thou hast proved thyself to-day
The genius of my happier destiny:
Thee must I thank, for 'twas thy rarer wit
Did guide me on to heaven.

Lud.
I'll send you there.

(Aside.)
King.
When first I heard Vicentio fell beneath
The hot Colonna's sword, I do confess
It smote me sore, but now 'tis told abroad
That he hath passed all peril.

Lud.
I am glad
His death doth not conduct you to your joys—
Vicentio bears a slight unharming wound,
That sheds his blood, but perils not his life:
But let him pass—let not a thought of him
Flit round the couch of love.

King.
Good night, my friend,
And prithee, bid Colonna swiftly lead her
To the expecting transports of my heart.

Lud.
I will bid him speed her coyness.

King.
Hie thee, Ludovico,
For every moment seems an age.

[Exit into chamber, M. D.
Lud.
An age!
For you, nor minute, hour, nor day, nor year,
Nor age, shall shortly be.
'Tis now the dead of night—That sounds to me
Like an apt word,—for nature doth to me
Shew like a giant corse.—This mighty world,
Its wide and highly-vaulted sepulchre,
And yonder moon a tomb-lamp! when the king
Lies dead to boot, all things will then appear
In a more full proportion.—Ha! he comes!
My dull and unconscious instrument!—Colonna!
Enter Colonna with a dagger, R. H. D.
Welcome, my friend, for such I dare to call you.—
The king's already to his bed retired,
Where death will be his paramour.

Col.
I have heard
Vicentio was not wounded unto death—
Would this were sooner known!

Lud.
Why, my good lord?

Col.
Because the king would not have offered me
Such an indignity, nor should I now
Tread into murder.

Lud.
Murder—I had hoped,
You would not on the threshold of the deed
Stay tottering thus—One would deem
It was a deed of sin, and not of honour,
That you had undertaken.

Col.
By you heaven,
I cannot stab him like a slave that's hired
To be a blood-shedder! I cannot clench
This hand, accustomed to a soldier's sword,
Around this treacherous hilt, and with the other
Squeeze the choked spirit from the gasping throat—
Then kneel upon his bosom, and press out
The last faint sigh of life! Down, damned steel!
Fit instrument for cowards— (Throws down the dagger near R. H.)
—I will play
A warrior's part, and arm him for the fight!—
Give me thy sword, that I may put defence
Into the tyrant's hand, and nobly kill him.—
Come forth!

(Going to D. F.)
Lud.
Hold, madman, hold!—what wouldst thou do?

Col.
Bravely encounter him—not take his life
Like a mercenary stabber.

Lud.
Hast thou thought
That he may be the victor too?

Col.
My death
Will not be thought inglorious.

Lud.
There's some praise
In falling by the hand of royalty;
But when you are laid within your sepulchre,
And rot most honourably, then I fear me,
A lesser shame will not befall your house
For all the graven marbles on your tomb!
Your sister—

Col.
Ha!

Lud.
Your sister will not find,
When you are dead, a bulwark in your grave,
Where will she find a guardian arm—thine arm
Will be the food of the consuming worm,
While in the hot embraces of the king—

Col.
I did not think on that.

Lud.
But I perhaps mistake you all this while—
You had better thought upon the dignity
He means your house.

Col.
You do not dare—

Lud.
I dare to tell you this—
Who can forgive such injury as thine,
Hath half consented to it.—How is it
The glorious resolve hath cooled within thee?
Hath any thing befallen that should have blown
On the red iron of thy heated wrath,
And steeped thee back to meekness?—Was the touch
Of his warm amorous hand, wherein he palmed
Her struggling fingers, ice upon your rage?
When he did tread upon her yielding foot
Beneath the cloth of gold—

Col.
If I had seen it,
He had not lived an instant!

Lud.
When you turned,
He flung his arms around, and on her cheek
He pressed his ravenous lips!—'Sdeath, sir, consider—
You pray the King of Naples to your roof,—
You hail his coming in a feast that kings
Could scarce exceed in glory—It is blown
Thro' all the city that he sleeps to-night
Within your sister's bed; and, it is said,
That you, yourself, have smoothed the pillow down.

Col.
Where is he? let me see him who presumes
To think the blasphemy.

Lud.
Behold him here!
I, sir—yes, I—Ludovico, dare think
With every man in Naples, if the king
Should leave your roof with life, that he has tasted
The fruit he came to pluck.

Col.
No more—no more—
He perishes, Ludovico!

Lud.
That's well—
I am glad to see you pull into your heart
(Crosses and takes up the dagger.)
Its brave resolve again—and if there be
Aught wanting to confirm thee, think, Colonna,
Think that you give your country liberty,
While you revenge yourself!—Go, my Colonna—
Yonder's the fated chamber—plunge the steel
(Gives the dagger to Colonna.)
Into his inmost heart, and let the blood
Flow largely.

Col.
I'll call to thee when it is done.

Lud.
Hark thee! he'll cry for life—and well I know
The pleading for existence may have power
Upon thy noble nature—then, Colonna,
Drown every shriek with chaste Evadne's name,
And stab him as thou criest it!

[Exit, R. H. D.
(Colonna advances towards the chamber-door in centre.)
Col.
I will do it!—
(He pushes the door, and finds, from his agitated condition it is difficult to move.)
I can scarce move the door—it will not yield!
It seems as if some mighty hand were laid
Against it to repel me.

(Voice exclaims, L. H. U. E.)
Hold!

Col.
(Starting.)
It was only
My thought informed the air with voice around me—
Why should I feel as if I walked in guilt
And trod to common murder—he shall die!
Come then, enraging thought, into my breast
And turn it into iron!

(Voice, L. H. U. E.)
Hold!

Col.
It shot
With keen reality into mine ear.
A figure in the shadow of the moon,
Moves slowly on my sight.
What art thou?

Evadne advances, L. H. U. E. from behind the Statues.
Evad.
My brother!

Col.
How, my sister!
Come you across my purpose?

Evad.
From my chamber
That to the great hall leads, I did behold you,
In dreadful converse with Ludovico.—
Your looks at the banquet did unto my fears
Forbode no blessed issue, for your smiles
Seemed veils of death, and underneath your brows
I saw the silent furies—Oh, Colonna,—
Thank heaven, the safety of Vicentio
Has given me power to watch your dangerous steps!
What would you do?

Col.
Get thee to rest.

Evad.
Is that high front, Colonna,
One to write Cain upon?—Alas, Colonna,
I did behold you with Ludovico,
By yonder moon, and I as soon had seen thee
Commune with the great foe of all mankind—
What wouldst thou do?

Col.
Murder!

Evad.
What else, Colonna,
Couldst thou have learned from Ludovico?

Col.
In yonder chamber lies the king—I go
To stab him to the heart!

Evad.
'Tis nobly done!
I will not call him king—but guest, Colonna—
Remember, you have called him here—remember
You have pledged him in your father's golden cup;
Have broken bread with him—the man, Colonna,—

Col.
Who dares to set a price upon my life—
What think'st thou 'twas?

Evad.
I think there's nought too dear
To buy Colonna's life.

Col.
'Twas a vast price
He asked me then—you were to pay it too—
It was my Evadne's honour.

Evad.
Ha!

Col.
He gives my life upon condition—Oh, my sister,
I am ashamed to tell thee what he asked.

Evad.
What! did he?—

Col.
Thou dost understand me now?—
Now—if thou wilt, abide thee here, Evadne,
Where thou mayest hear his groan.

(Going in.)
Evad.
Forbear, Colonna!
For heaven's sake, stay—this was the price he asked thee?
He asked thee for thy life?—thy life?—but, no—
Vicentio lives, and—

Col.
(Aside.)
How is this? She seems
To bear too much of woman in her heart;
She trembles—yet she does not shrink—her cheek
Is not inflamed with anger, and her eye
Darts not the lightning!—

Evad.
Oh! my dearest brother,
Let not this hand, this pure, this white fair hand,
Be blotted o'er with blood.

Col.
(Aside.)
Why, is it possible,
She has ta'en the sinful wish into her heart?
By heaven, her pride is dazzled at the thought
Of having this same purple villain kneel,
And bend his crown before her—She's a woman
Evadne!

Evad.
Well?

Col.
The king expects me to
Conduct you to his chamber—Shall I do so?

Evad.
I prithee, be not angry at my prayer—
But bid him come to me.

Col.
What! bid him come to thee?

Evad.
And leave me with him here.

Col.
What! leave thee with him?

Evad.
Yes—I implore it of thee—prithee, Colonna,
Conduct my sovereign here.

Col.
Yes—I will try her—
I know not what she means, but, hitherto,
I deemed her virtuous. If she fall, she dies.
I'll here conceal myself, and if in word
She give consent, I'll rush upon them both
And strike one heart thro' the other.— (Aside.)


Evad.
Send him to me.

Col.
There's a wild purpose in her solemn eye—
I know not if 'tis sin, but I will make
A terrible experiment.— (Aside.)
—What, ho!
My liege, I bear fulfilment of my promise—
Colonna bears Evadne to your arms!

Enter the King from the chamber, M. D.
King.
Colonna, my best friend, how shall I thank thee?
But where is my Evadne?

Col.
There, my lord!

King.
Colonna, I not only give thee life,
But place thee near myself; henceforth thou wilt wear
A nobler title in thy family,—
And to thy great posterity we'll send
My granted dukedom.

Col.
Sir you honour me.
My presence is no longer needed here.
(Aside.)
—A word's consent despatches them!

(Conceals himself behind the pillars, R. H. U. E.)
King.
My fair Evadne! lay aside thy sad
And drooping aspect in this hour of joy!
Stoop not thy head, that like a pale rose bends
Upon its yielding stalk—thou hast no cause
For such a soft abashment, for be sure
I'll place thee high in honour.

Evad.
(L. H.)
Honour, sir!—

King.
(R. H.)
Yes; I'll exalt thee into dignity,
Adorn thy name with titles—All my court
Shall watch the movement of thy countenance,
Riches and power shall wait upon thy smile,
And in the lightest bending of thy brow
Death and disgrace inhabit.

Evad.
And, my liege,
That will inhabit my own heart!

King.
My love!
Come, my Evadne—what a form is here?
The imaginers of beauty did of old
O'er three rich forms of sculptured excellence
Scatter the naked graces; but the hand
Of mightier nature hath in thee combined
All varied charms together.

Evad.
You were speaking
Of sculpture, sir—I do remember me,
You are deemed a worshipper of that high art,
Here, my lord,
(Pointing to the statues.)
Is matter for your transports!

King.
Fair Evadne!
Do you not mean to mock me? Not to gaze
On yonder lifeless marbles did I come
To visit you to-night, but in the pure,
And blue-veined alabaster of a breast,
Richer than heaves the Parian that has wed
The Florentine to immortality.

Evad.
You deem me of a light capricious mood,
But it were hard if, (woman as I am)
I could not use my sex's privilege—
Tho' I should ask you for yon orb of light,
That shines so brightly, and so sadly there,
And fills the ambient air with purity—
Should you not fain, as 'tis the wont of those
Who cheat a wayward child, to draw it down,
And in the sheeted splendour of a stream
To catch its shivering brightness!—It is my pleasure
That you should look upon these reverend forms,
That keep the likeness of mine ancestry—
I must enforce you to it!—

King.
Wayward woman!
What arts does she intend to captivate
My soul more deeply in her toils?

Evad.
Behold!
(Going to a statue, R. H. S. E.)
The glorious founder of my family!
It is the great Rodolpho!—Charlemagne
Did fix that sun upon his shield, to be
His glory's blazoned emblem; for at noon,
When the astronomer cannot discern
A spot upon the full-orbed disk of light,
'Tis not more bright than his immaculate name!
With what austere, and dignified regard
He lifts the type of purity, and seems
Indignantly to ask, if aught that springs
From blood of his, shall dare to sully it
With a vapour of the morning!

King.
It is well;
His frown has been attempered in the lapse
Of generations, to thy lovely smile.—
I swear, he seems not of thy family.
My fair Evadne, I confess, I hoped
Another sort of entertainment here.

Evad.
Another of mine ancestors, my liege—
(Pointing to a statue, L. H. U. E.)
Guelfo the murderer!

King.
The murderer!
I knew not that your family was stained
With the reproach of blood.

Evad.
We are not wont
To blush, tho' we may sorrow for his sin,
If sin indeed it be. His castle walls
Were circled by the siege of Saracens,—
He had an only daughter whom he prized
More than you hold your diadem; but when
He saw the fury of the infidels
Burst through his shattered gates, and on his child
Dishonour's hand was lifted, with one blow
He struck her to the heart, and with the other,
He stretched himself beside her.

King.
Fair Evadne,
I must no more indulge you, else I fear
You would scorn me for my patience; prithee, love,
No more of this wild phantasy!

Evad.
My liege,
But one remains, and when you have looked upon it,
And thus complied with my request, you will find me
Submissive to your own. Look here, my lord,—
Know you this statue?

(Pointing to a statue, L. H. S. E.
King.
No, in sooth, I do not.

Evad.
Nay—look again—for I shall think but ill
Of princely memories, if you can find
Within the inmost chambers of your heart
No image like to this—look at that smile—
That smile, my liege—look at it!

King.
It is your father!

Evad.
(Breaking into exultation.)
Aye!—'tis indeed my father!—'tis my good,
Exalted, generous, and god-like father!
Whose memory, though he had left his child
A naked, houseless roamer through the world,
Were an inheritance a princess might
Be proud of for her dower!
Who was my father?

(With a proud and conscious interrogatory.)
King.
One, whom I confess
Of high and many virtues.

Evad.
Is that all?
I will help your memory, and tell you first,
That the late King of Naples looked among
The noblest in his realm for that good man,
To whom he might intrust your opening youth,
And found him worthiest. In the eagle's nest
Early he placed you, and beside his wing
You learned to mount to glory! Underneath
His precious care you grew, and were once
Thought grateful for his service. His whole life
Was given to your uses, and his death—
Ha! do you start, my lord? On Milan's plain
He fought beside you, and when he beheld
A sword thrust at your bosom, rushed—it pierced him!
He fell down at your feet,—he did, my lord!
He perished to preserve you!— (Rushes to the statue.)
—Breathless image,
Altho' no heart doth beat within that breast,
No blood is in those veins, let me enclasp thee,
And feel thee at my bosom.—Now, sir, I am ready—
Come and unloose these feeble arms, and take me!—
Aye, take me from this neck of senseless stone,—
And to reward the father with the meet
And wonted recompense that princes give—
Make me as foul as bloated pestilence,
As black as darkest midnight, and as vile
As guilt and shame can make me.

King.
She has smitten
Compunction thro' my soul!

Evad.
Approach, my lord!
Come in the midst of all mine ancestry,
Come and unloose me from my father's arms—
Come, if you dare, and in his daughter's shame
Reward him for the last drops of the blood
Shed for his prince's life!—

King.
Thou hast wrought
A miracle upon thy prince's heart,
And lifted up a vestal lamp, to shew
My soul its own deformity—my guilt!

Evad.
(Disengaging herself from the statue.)
Ha! have you got a soul?—have you yet left,
Prince as you are, one relic of a man?
Have you a soul?—he trembles—he relents—
I read it in the glimmering of his face;
And there's a tear, the bursting evidence
Of nature's holy working in the heart!
Oh, heav'n! he weeps! my sovereign, my liege
Heart! do not burst in ecstacy too soon!
My brother! my Colonna!—hear me—hear!
In all the wildering triumph of my soul,
I call upon thee!
(Turning, she perceives Colonna advancing from among the statues, R. H. U. E.)
There he is—my brother!

Col.
(In centre.)
Let me behold thee,
Let me compress thee here!—Oh! my dear sister!
A thousand times mine own!—I glory in thee,
More than in all the heroes of my name!—
I overheard your converse, and methought
It was a blessed spirit that had ta'en
Thy heavenly form, to shew the wondering world
How beautiful was virtue!—Sir,—

(To the king.)
Evad.
(L. H.)
Colonna,
There is your king!

Col.
Thou hast made him so again!
Thy virtue hath re-crowned him—and I kneel
His faithful subject here!

King.
(R. H.)
Arise, Colonna!
You take the attitude that more befits
The man who would have wrong'd you, but whose heart,
Was by a seraph call'd again to heaven!
Forgive me!

Col.
Yes, with all my soul I do!
And I will give you proof how suddenly
You are grown my Prince again.—Do not inquire
What I intend, but let me lead you here
Behind these statues.—
(Places the king behind the statues, R. H. U. E.)
Retire, my best Evadne!
[Exit Evadne, L. H.
Ho! Ludovico!
What ho! there!—Here he comes!
Enter Ludovico, R. H.
Ludovico,
I have done the deed.—

Lud.
He is dead?

Col.
Thro' his heart
E'en as thou badest me, did I drive the steel,
And as he cried for life, Evadne's name
Drowned his last shriek!

Lud.
So!

Col.
Why, Ludovico,
Stand you thus rapt? Why does your bosom heave
In such wild tumult? Why is it you place
Your hand upon your front? What hath possessed you?

Lud.
(With a strong laugh of irony.)
Fool!

Col.
How is this?

Lud.
So, thou hast slain the king?

Col.
I did but follow your advice, my lord.

Lud.
Therefore, I call ye—fool!—From the king's head
Thou hast ta'en the crown, to place it on mine own!
Therefore I touched my front, for I did think
That palpably, I felt the diadem
Wreathing its golden round about my brow!
But, by yon heaven, scarce do I feel more joy
In climbing up to empire, than I do
In knowing thee my dupe!

Col.
I know, my lord,
You bade me kill the king.

Lud.
And since thou hast slain him,
Know more—'twas I that first within his heart
Lighted impurity;—'twas I, Colonna,—
Hear it—'twas I that did persuade the king
To ask thy sister's honour, as the price
Of thine accorded life!

Col.
You?—

Lud.
Wouldst hear more?—
To-morrow sees me king! I have already
Prepared three thousand of my followers
To call me to the throne—and when I am there,
I'll try thee for the murdering of the king,—
And then—What ho, there! Guards!—then, my good lord,
When the good trenchant axe hath struck away
That dull, and passionate head of thine—What ho!—
Enter Officer and Eight Guards, R. H. D.
I'll take the fair Evadne to mine arms,
And thus—
On yonder traitor seize!—
With sacrilegious hand he has ta'en away
The consecrated life of majesty,
And—
The King comes forward in centre, R. H. U. E.
What do I behold? is not my sense
Mocked with this horrid vision?
That hath started up
To make an idiot of me;—is it not
The vapour of the senses that has framed
The only spectacle that ever yet
Appalled Ludovico?—

King.
Behold thy king!

Lud.
He lives!—I am betrayed—but let me not
Play traitor to myself:—befriend me still
Thou guarding genius of Ludovico!—
My liege, my royal master, do I see you
Safe from the plots of yon accursed traitor?
And throwing thus myself around your knees
Do I clasp reality?

King.
Traitor, arise!
Nor dare pollute my garment with a touch!
I know thee for a villain!—Seize him, guards!

Lud.
(Drawing his sword.)
By this right arm they dare not—this right arm
That to the battle oft hath led them on,
Whose power to kill they know, but would not feel!—
I am betrayed—but who will dare to leap
Into the pit wherein the lion's caught,
And hug with him for death? Not one of this
Vile herd of trembling wretches!
(To the King.)
Thou art meet alone to encounter me,
And thus in the wild bravery of despair,
I rush into thy life!

Col.
(Intercepts and stabs him.—Ludovico falls.)

Lud.
Colonna, thou hast conquered.
Oh! that I could,
Like an expiring dragon, spit upon you!—
That I could—thus I fling the drops of life
In showers of poison on you—May it fall
Like Centaur-blood, and fester you to madness!
Oh! that I could— (He grasps his sword, and, in an effort to rise, dies.)


Enter Evadne, L. H. and crosses to Colonna.
Evad.
Oh! my brother!

King.
Thou hast a second time preserv'd thy prince!
Fair Evadne,
We will repair our injuries to thee,
And wait in all the pomp of royalty
Upon the sacred day that gives thy hand
To thy beloved Vicentio!

Col.
And the nuptials
Shall at the pedestal be solemnized
Of our great father!

Evad.
And ever, as in this blest moment, may
His guardian spirit, with celestial love
Spread its bright wings to shelter us from ill,
With nature's tenderest feelings looking down
Benignant on the fortunes of his child!

Disposition of the Characters when the curtain falls.