University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Bouillon and Vendosme.
Bou.
To Court return'd, and pardon'd by my King,
Deign'st thou to hear it, gen'rous injur'd Friend?
Would'st thou receive this Fugitive again?
Vendosme, to thee my Penitence is due.
The lovely fatal Cause, that urg'd me on
To break the Union of cemented Hearts,
Forfeit my Vows, and violate my Faith,
Shall be the Means to join us one again.
Where I most wrong'd, I'll make Atonement there:
And didst thou ever feel the Force of Love,
In all the furious Violence of Wishing,
Passions awake, and restless Night and Day;
Thou must conclude it ample Justice done,
To curb a burning Heart, and bid thee now
Be bless'd unrivall'd in Louisa's Love.

Vend.
Bouillon, now be cancell'd all that's past;
Like social Rivers, sever'd by a Storm,
We re-unite one Kindred-Stream again.
This great Concession has inrich'd me so,
My Heart knows scarcely which to value most,
The Giver, or the Gift. I wo'not wrong thee,
But with a lavish Gratitude repay
A Proof of Generosity like this.

[The Trumpets sound.
Bou.
These Trumpets speak our Monarch's near Approach.

[The King, Villeroy, Rosny, and Guards, as crossing the Stage. Ravilliac among the Throng, presses forwards to the King, with a Paper in his Hand; Villeroy speaking to him.
Vill.
Why dost thou press thus?

Ravil.
On a Subject's Right,
To offer my Petition to the King.

King.
Come forth, and let thy Grievance have Redress.

Ravil.
Thus, Tyrant, I redress my Grievance here.

[He stabs the King.
King.
Hah, Ruffian!—Thou hast play'd thy Part too well.
Inglorious Destiny!—But I submit.
Life fleets away apace! its Sluices drain'd!
Le Brosse predicted true, and Henry falls!

[The King dies.
[The Guards going to kill Ravilliac, Vendosme forbids 'em.
Vend.
Forbear you Swords, a Punishment too mild,
Reserve him for the Rigour of the Law,
For studied Deaths, and meditated Tortures.
O bleeding Piece of butcher'd Majesty!
Who has a Heart, but that curs'd Regicide,
That can survey thy Wounds, and not partake them?
My Father, and my King!—Villeroy, Rosny,
Why do you stand thus nail'd with Horror there?
Come here, fall prostrate on the Royal Coarse,
And pay your breathless Monarch Tears for Blood,
The poor Devotion you can offer now.

Rosny.
Why, Vendosme, dost thou vainly bid us move?
Have we or Life, or Soul, or Motion left,
When He, the Blood and Spirit of us All,
Lies there a Lump of Earth, deserted Clay?
O poor forsaken Country! Naked France!
Who now shall be thy Fence to gird thee round?
Who now survives to lead thy Armies forth,
To fight thy Battles, and maintain thy Glories?
To hoard thy lavish Sweets of fruitful Peace?
Thy Monarch, Husband, Father, Leader dead!

Vill.
Surprize & Horror have choak'd up my Words,
But Oh! what Words! what Utterance of Grief,
Whilst thou, O bleeding Majesty, ly'st there,
Can equal half thy Wounds, and our Despair?

Bouil.
to Ravil.
Thou Monster! thou Young Villain! canst thou view
The Dev'lish Scene that thou hast acted here,
And not shrink back with Frenzy at the Thought
Of all those dire Varieties of Death,
Those Tortures, that shall wring from thee the Truth,
From whence this Hellish Resolution grew?

Ravil.
Thy Tortures threaten, like thy self, in vain;
I dare confess, and glory in the Deed:
Our Church had damn'd the Heretick; our Church
Deputed me to push her Sentence home.

Vend.
What! must Religion colour o'er thy Guilt?
Thou Hypocrite! thou Traitor!—Bear him hence
To Chains and Dungeons, till releas'd by Death.
[The Guards carry Ravilliac off.
Bear to the Palace back the Royal Corpse,
In melancholy Pomp, and slow-pac'd Grief;
Whilst we, in publick Council strait conven'd,
Fix the Succession, and th'Assassin's Death.


And now let Faction's future Rage rebate,
And know, That Henry's Fame survives his Fate:
She can no more pursue her bloody Will;
In every Loyal Heart he triumphs still,
Out-lives his Wounds, commences there again
A longer, surer Life, and happier Reign.