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46

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Belus and Zenomira.
Belus.
Then you confess that I've been made the tool
Of some vile purpose, that my Lord ne'er sent
The message you deliver'd?—Faithless woman!
How shall I meet my Lord's just indignation,
Or make my conduct clear?

Zen.
Prepare to curse,
Prepare to kill me, Belus; or my fears
Will quickly end me, and prevent your justice.

Bel.
False woman! you've betray'd me into ruin.

Zen.
O we are both betray'd, and both are ruin'd:
Both made t'assist in such a villainy
As Hell would blush to own, and Heav'n and Earth
Must join to see reveng'd. O cruel Queen!
Curst Conrade! lost Ismena!

Bel.
Conrade!—Queen!

Zen.
I say the Queen, and Conrade, and Ismena.
I saw her pass to the Queen's own apartment,
And cursed Conrade follow her soon after.
The rooms were bar'd.—But O the dismal cries,
The lamentations and the shrieks that followed!—

Bel.
O lost Ismena! O unhappy Lord!—
Yes they become thee well, these gushing tears—


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Zen.
But danger presses on us—What's our duty
In this extreme?

Bel.
To be both just and cautious:
Not rashly to proclaim what we have heard,
But boldly dare to evidence the truth,
And justify our selves, whenever call'd on.—
But see, Ismena comes. Merciful Heav'ns!
Who that beholds her now, can doubt her suff'rings!

Zen.
Heart-breaking spectacle!

Bel.
She thinks us guilty:
We must avoid her sight. (Going)
Her Father's here!—

Enter at opposite doors Bathori and Ismena.
O what a woful greeting! Now, by Heaven,
I know not which demands compassion most.

(Exeunt Belus and Zenomira,
Bath.
The Regent sent to see Ismena here?—
Perhaps, then—

Ism.
Oh!—

Bath.
From whence that mournful sound!

Ism.
Since life is but a witness of my shame,
Why do I longer bear it;

Bath.
Some sad child
Of sorrow and despair, hiding her face,
And bending t'wards the earth, seems to bewail.
In bitterness of soul, some dire misfortune.

Ism.
Why is the grave, the hospitable grave,
The silent seat of darkness, closed to me?
Almighty power!
(raising her face)
My Father! ha!—

(seeing Bathori)

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Bath.
Impossible!—
Art thou Ismena?—Let me doubt it still—
To see thee thus, and know thee for my child,
Must split my brain with horror.

Ism.
Since my woes
Renounce all cure, and, told, must blast the hearer;
O let me pour them out to wilds and deserts,
Shun all mankind, but chiefly those I love!

Bath.
Come, my Ismena, to my sheltring bosom—
Close, closer still—and while I thus weep o'er thee,
Tell me, my child,—I know 'twill break my heart,
But let it break—come, tell me all thy suff'rings.

Ism.
Think where I am, remember what I told you
Of the detested rage of brutal Conrade.

Bath.
Then art thou ruin'd, past redemption ruin'd!

Ism.
Past, past redemption! every other ill
May be reliev'd by hope, or born with patience;
Here hope's impossible, and patience guilt.

Bath.
Then the last sacred business is revenge—

Ism.
Look down, all-pitying Heaven, on these my woes,
Woes undeserv'd, and guiltless misery:
They plead my cause, the cause of innocence,
An injur'd, violated, matron's cause;
And shall they plead in vain?

Bath.
Yes, my dear child,
In whom thy Father's secret soul rejoiced;
Whose goodness and whose happiness was such,
He found old age delightfull; let thy foes,

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Those kindred-fiends, to this thy just appeal
Plead their high rank, and try its weight with Heaven.

Ism.
Or Elmerick, whose wrath perhaps they fear
Much more than Heaven's.

Bath.
And therefore may avoid.
This asks some thought—
For who can answer for thy husband's transport,
Wise as he is, when he shall hear thy wrongs?

Ism.
O what a scene of horror have you rais'd!
He'll rush, unarm'd, on our insidious foes,
Fall in their toils, and perish. Yes, my woes,
My miseries, enormous as they are,
Admit of aggravation.

Bath.
His danger wou'd be great. Some hand less fear'd
May make revenge more certain—Nay, 'twere kind
To spare thy Lord such anguish and despair.

Ism.
O Heaven! and Earth! to whom shall I complain,
Where pour my sorrows forth, if not to him?

Bath.
Think you expose his life.

Ism.
Death seal my lips!

Bath.
Retire, and trust our vengeance to my prudence.
Compose thy self, and when thou seest thy Lord—

Ism.
Madness will seize me,
Or raging grief disclose the horrid secret.

(Exit.
Bath.
Suspence was ease to this confirm'd despair.
Would thou wert dead, Ismena!—O my child!
Thou art so lost beyond the reach of hope,
That love itself compels thy wretched Father
To wish thee dead; and in the bitterness

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Of anguish mourn that ever thou wert born.
May one kind grave soon hide thy woes and mine.
Ismena!—oh!—But while I weep thy wrongs,
The spoiler lives.—Those are the Queen's apartments,
And, doubtless, there her brutal brother lurks.
Nor courts, nor shrines and altars shall protect him.
What, ho! within! Prince of Moravia! Conrade!
If thou'rt a man, stand forth, appear and answer.

Enter Conrade.
Conr.
What insolence is this!—Ismena's Father!—

Bath.
Yes, impious Prince, the Father of Ismena.

Conr.
Forbear, rash man; this foul reproach I pardon.
Somewhat, I grant, is due to thy first transports
Of jealous honour, and much more from me
To fair Ismena's father.

Bath.
Yes, thy blood.

Conr.
Yet hold; I've that to say may calm thy fury.

Bath.
Coward!

Conr.
I smile, old man,
And will be heard. Your daughter has been wrong'd,
But most by her ungrateful, faithless Lord;
Whose rude attempt upon the Queen, my sister,
Makes what I've done a just, though bold, reprisal.
Let him atone his treasonous presumption,
Which, be assur'd, he answers with his life;
And let me perish, if I not restore
The injur'd honour of your lov'd Ismena
With vast increase, and seat her on a throne.

Bath.
I'd rather see her in the arms of death
Than reigning o'er the universe with thee.

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Mark thy progression,
From rape to subornation, thence to murther.
Long-suffering Heaven, whose patience thou hast tir'd,
Calls loud for vengeance on thee.

(Draws.)
Conr.
Frantick man!

Enter Queen, Lords and Guards, who interpose.
Q.
You Lords of Hungary, behold this sight,
And vindicate your hospitality.
Is this fit treatment for a royal guest?
Will you endure this more than barb'rous outrage,
And share the guilt of him and his confed'rates?
Who twice this day, and for a cause too vile
For me to name, have sought my brother's life.

1 Ld.
How shall we reconcile what we have seen
With your known wisdom, and consummate virtue?

Bath.
Believe me, friends, there is, there is a cause
For what you saw, for what I fain wou'd hide,
These eyes still swelling with unmanly tears;
Which when you know, you'll join with me to curse
The chance that brought you, to prevent my justice.

1 Ld.
The great, good man! so long, so often prov'd
The fearless advocate of injur'd innocence,
Wou'd he shed tears,
And call for justice when no wrong was done him?
Judge others as they please, I will not think it.

2 Ld.
Nor I.

3 Ld.
Nor I.

4 Ld.
Why is that wrong conceal'd?

Bath.
For most important reasons: Though I fear
It will too soon be known.


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4 Ld.
'Till then, my Lord,
Excuse me, if I think our country's honour
Must suffer by your conduct.

5 Ld.
That's my judgment.

Bath.
If your long knowledge of me cannot gain
Some credit to my word, at least suspend
Your hasty censures.

(Going.)
1 Ld.
We accept your word,
And vow to share your counsels, and your fortune.

Bath.
You're truly noble. And be well assur'd
That 'tis an honest cause, and worth espousing.

(Exeunt Bathori, 1, 2, 3 Lords.
Q.
Unmanner'd Traitors!
From you, my Lords, who think and act more nobly,
What may insulted Majesty expect?

4 Ld.
All that becomes good subjects, who will guard
The venerable rights of hospitality.

5 Ld.
Bathori, whose rash conduct we condemn,
At our joint charge, shall answer to the regent
His bold attempt.

Q.
The Regent!—
His daughter's husband! his confed'rate!—

5 Ld.
No kindred, Madam, will prevail with Elmerick
To stop the course of justice.

Q.
Left to him,
Whose daring insolence has been the source
Of these fierce discords! Lords, if you regard
The publick safety, if you love the King,
Or dare defend your Queen from foulest insult;
Go find him now, attack him unprepar'd,
Stand not on forms, the least delay is fatal.


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4 Ld.
Your pardon, Madam—

5 Ld.
Our zeal shall never make assassins of us.

Q.
Nor men, tame Lords. You who have seen my brother
Assaulted with a murderous intent,
Is this your boasted loyalty and honour?

4 Ld.
These bind us to respect the character,
The dignity and person of the Regent.

5 Ld.
If you, my Queen, or you, great Prince, are wrong'd,
The King will do you justice.

(Exeunt Lords.
Conr.
Canting traitors!
They go to join our foe, and swell his power:
This shrub of one day's growth, this idol Regent
Attracts their ready worship.

Q.
Let them go.
Now by the burning rage that drinks my blood
The fools spoke true: The King shall do us justice.

Conr.
Elmerick,
His Influence—

Q.
We will accuse him first.
The King has not yet reach'd Alba-Regalis,
You soon will overtake him. What you saw
Of Elmerick's base purpose strongly urg'd,
Join'd with the earnest letters I shall write,
Will so alarm and prepossess the King;
That all complaints of their Ismena's sufferings
Will be regarded as an after feint,
A mean device to screen her guilty lord.
What are your thoughts?


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Conr.
That thou wast born to triumph.
This traitor, when unmask'd, shall fall unpitied
By all mankind, and hated by Ismena.

Q.
Still your Ismena!

Conr.
O my best Matilda!
The hopes that freed by death from her false husband,
And of his crimes convinc'd, she then may deign
To bless my vows, and share my future throne,
Are more than safety, life or vengeance to me.
My blind impetuous passion once desir'd
Those charms alone which violence cou'd gain;
But now the avarice of love aspires
To mutual bliss, and more refin'd disdains
Th'imperfect pleasures which her will denied.

Q.
She may be wholly and for ever yours.
You mark'd with how much care the cautious Sire
Preserv'd the secret of his daughter's wrongs.

Conr.
Oh may I live to make her reparation
By gentlest love for wrongs which now my soul
Detests, and sickens at the vile remembrance.

Q.
Live and be bless'd. I do not hate Ismena:
Cut off, that source of both our wrongs, her husband,
And my tormenting thirst of vengeance ceases.

Conr.
Prepare your letters. I'll be instant ready.
(Exit Conrade.

Q.
Yes, I will humble that exalted mein,
And teach this new made Regent's pride submission.
He is secure, and let him be so still;
'Till my revenge, a slighted Queen's revenge,
Burst forth, and blast him with unthought of ruin.
(Exit Queen.


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SCENE II.

Ismena's Apartment.
Enter Elmerick running to embrace her.
Elm.
Thou hast too long been absent, my Ismena!
A thousand anxious cares have fill'd my heart
Since I beheld thee last. But thou art found,
Who ne'er appear'd to my desiring eyes
But peace and comfort and delight came with thee.
O take me to thy arms, and quite extinguish
The memory of pain.

Ism.
O misery!
(refusing to embrace him.)
Unequal'd misery! I am excluded
For ever from those arms.

Elm.
All-gracious Heaven!
What mean these broken thoughts, this lab'ring anguish,
My soul, thou sum of all my joys, my wife!

Ism.
Thou hast no wife.

Elm.
Distraction!

Ism.
I'm a wretch
Without a name, and fain would quit my being.

Elm.
Protect me, Heaven! Ismena! what dire thought
Shakes thy sweet soul with such tempestuous agony?
What ill so sudden, since we parted last,
Preventing even my fears, has burst upon thee?
Say, tell me—

Ism.
No, I cannot, dare not tell you:—
You cannot bear it. Though I ne'er conceal'd
A thought before, I must be silent now.


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Elm.
What can this mean? And yet I dread to know—
Perhaps the envious Queen has wrong'd my truth,
Can you suspect my love?

Ism.
You love too well:
O that 'twere in your power to love me less!

Elm.
Nay, then I'm lost indeed—Pronounce my doom;
But let me hear it folded in thy arms.

Ism.
Avoid me, fly, and think of me no more.

Elm.
What! shun my arms, Ismena!

Ism.
There's my misery,
I must for ever shun 'em—Now, my Father,
Where is your prudence? Must I seem a monster,
Ungrateful, false to Elmerick; or bring
—Detested thought—pollution to his arms?

Elm.
Pollution! madness!

Ism.
I have been betray'd,
Basely betray'd to infamy and ruin,
Render'd unworthy of thy chaste embraces,
That execrable fiend, that monster Conrade
Has robb'd me of my honour.

Elm.
Hear me, Heaven!
Let not this whirlwind of overwhelming passion
Tear up my being—Let me live whole ages
Though raging with despair, rather than die
And leave her unreveng'd.

Ism.
Had not religion
Withheld my hand, whose law forbids self-murder,
(That short and easy cure for shame and anguish)
These sorrows ne'er had reach'd you.


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Elm.
Talk not thus,
Talk not of dying; thou art innocent,
Thy mind unstain'd; thy wrongs shall be reveng'd,
And thou still bless my days.

Ism.
It cannot be:
My power to bless is lost. I am the blot,
The only blot of Elmerick's fair honour.—
O! why was it committed to the charge
Of one so heedless, so improvident,
Guardian unworthy of a trust so noble.

Elm.
O my Ismena!

Ism.
O my dearest Lord!
Alas you weep—I cannot bear your tears,
They melt my firmest purpose—but Farewell—
One last embrace, as on a dying friend,
It will not stain your glory to bestow
On your undone Ismena

Elm.
To my bosom
With tenderer fondness did I never press thee.
Here rest, my love, a while, and lose thy woes.

Ism.
The greatness of my woes will make 'em short:
I feel my vital powers decay apace.
To part with thee, was all that e'er appear'd
Dreadful to me in death—that's past already—
And all to come is ease and soft repose.
When I'm no more, remember, Elmerick,
My reverend Father; comfort and support him
The best you can: My loss will touch him nearly.
I see you burn for vengeance, but beware;
The cruel, treach'rous Queen conspir'd with Conrade.

Elm.
Alike remote from rashness and from fear,
I'll trace this hellish mystery to its source,

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And deal to each, with an inflexible
And equal hand, the portion they deserve:
I'll weigh it as the action of my life
That must give name and value to the whole;
And raise a monument to thee and justice
Shall strike exalted wickedness with terror,
And freeze the boiling blood of future Conrades.
Farewell, be patient, and expect th'event.

(Exeunt.
End of the Fourth Act.