University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

MAJONE, SICARDI.
MAJONE.
Thanks, thou excelling minister of vengeance!
How was the happy fraud at first received?
How did they credit him, who dared accuse
Their new raised idol, Raymond?

SICARDI.
O my Lord,
Our sanctified Uberto has the power
To work still greater wonders—as I live,
I think he holds the popular opinion
But as his puppet; for unseen he guides it,
And to his purpose gives it voice and action.

MAJONE.
He is a creature of most deep devices,
And exquisite hypocrisy: but wanting
Thy heart, Sicardi, he excites my doubts:
I wish we could have spared his services,
Important as they are.

SICARDI.
Impossible,
My noble Lord—consider but his office!
He as the Prince's confessor must watch
His closing life, and—

MAJONE.
I know it—this associate
Was needful to us—he is firmly ours;
And yet my heart forebodes some evil from him.

SICARDI.
Dismiss your fears, since all his hopes of fortune
Must rise and fall with your prosperity!
Remember too, how far we stand indebted
To his rare chymic skill! his hand prepared
The drug of subtlest potency, that ended
Your enemy's existence.

MAJONE.
You beheld
Its forceful agency!

SICARDI.
My lord, I did;
And finding its effect most rapid, flew
To bring you the great tidings, while Uberto
Exerts his priestly arts to make the people
Believe the Prince's death the deed of Raymond.

MAJONE.
'Tis well Sicardi; but we must not trust
That shifting sand, the popular opinion;
While yet our story holds in wild amaze
The gaping vulgar, we must try, my friend,
To make suspicion wear the face of proof.
I and Verino have this morn exchanged
Mutual professions of sincerest friendship.

SICARDI.
Will not Verino, or his wary son
Suspect a rival's friendship?

MAJONE.
'Tis the curse
Of fools to hold suspicion a dishonor.
I will persuade him, that some unknown foe
Misguides the afflicted King, who threatens Raymond
With all, that vengeance can inflict upon him.
Verino's pride will kindle at the thought,
And madly drive him to some desperate deed,
Which, having sunk then in the King's esteem,
O'erwhelms at once the father and the son.

SICARDI.
Your soul, my Lord, was surely form'd for empire,
And smiling fortune leads you to that grandeur,
Which nature seemed to claim for you, in framing
Your princely faculties.

MAJONE.
At length, my friend
My happier genius has begun to triumph—
Now it exerts its power. There was a time
When abject passion, when a foolish girl,
Engross'd my every thought, and held my mind
Enslaved, enervated. Thanks to her folly!
Eudora soon dipell'd the weak illusion.
My soul awaking from that idle dream,
Rose, with new vigor, to the warm pursuit
Of sovereign greatness.

SICARDI.
The Sicilian sceptre,
Now sinking from the palsied hand of age,
Shall soon be given to thy superior guidance.

MAJONE.
Yes my Sicardi, by the prince's fall,
The paths of empire open to my view,
Clear of obstruction—but the sweets of vengeance,
Vengeance alone demands our present care:
Thou shalt repent thee of thy simple choice,
Ill-judging girl! O how my heart will swell
With the proud triumph of revenge—to see thee
Weep o'er the fallen minion of thy wishes,
And curse thy abject fate! but hence, Sicardi,
I must with keen attendance watch the King,
Work to a storm his undecided passions
And teach the bursting tempest where to fall!
(Exit Sicardi.
Now fair deceit
Inspire my tongue, and let my clamorous sorrow
Assume the semblance of a generous zeal!

SCENE II.

THE KING, MAJONE.
THE KING,
(entering.)
Where, where, Majone is a Prince secure,
If all the blooming loveliness of youth
Crown'd with a mind benevolent as Heaven,
Can perish thus by treason?—O had I
Been born the humble lord of some poor cottage,
I had preserv'd my darling child in peace.
Now I've no comfort.

MAJONE.
O my royal master
I lov'd the prince, e'en as a father lov'd him,
And feel the sharpness of a father's sorrow;
Tis not within the power of art to make
Such woes seem light, or soothe the troubled mind
To calm oblivion of a loss like this!
Yet there is vengeance;—vengeance can unbind
The charm of grief, and o'er the fading cheek
Of cold affliction spread a smile of joy.

THE KING.
Could I with justice but revenge my son,
I think Majone, it would ease my soul
Of half the burden, that now weighs me down:
But ne'er, O ne'er let my misguided vengeance
Rashly condemn the innocent to bleed!

MAJONE.
Heaven shield the innocent! but shall our pride
Our empire's dear delight be ravish'd from us,—
Shall the brave youth, who fought his country's battles,
Untimely fall, by blackest treason fall,
And perish unreveng'd?—O had the wretch,
Whose treacherous heart could plan so base a deed,
Been born my brother, had he long been bound
In closest ties of friendship to my soul,
This hellish act would cancel every bond,
And I would drag him to the stroke of justice.

THE KING.
My kind Majone! well I know thy love
Is warm and zealous to revenge thy master:
Thou dost not think that Raymond can be guilty.

MAJONE.
I would not think it—but alas! my liege,
The lust of empire in the youthful mind
Can burst the ties of gratitude and honor,
And dare, beyond what honest men can think;
I've heard but now, that two of Raymond's train
Have publicly disclosed the dreadful deed
And proved their master's guilt—this may be false,
So do I hope, and so believe it is;
Yet while he stands accused, 'twere due respect
To that dear youth, whose memory I doat on,
To hold Lord Raymond prisoner, but so slightly,
As least may hurt his freedom and his fame.

THE KING.
Thou counsel'st well, Majone, but alas
This bitter trial has o'erpowered thy master!
My soul has lost its strength, and wearied life
Is hastening to its close: yet would I live
To see the hour of vengeance.—'Tis from thee,
From thee, my good Majone, I expect it:
My power be thine, and whosoe'er he be,
Tho' all the ministers of darkness hide him,
Produce the villain with such damning proof
That justice cannot pause! grant me but this,
And I will bow me to the will of Heaven,
Adore its mercies; and then die content.

SCENE III.

MAJONE,
(alone.)
Thanks easy dotard! thou dost well to yield
Thy falling sceptre to an abler hand!
Majone prospers:—Be thyself my soul,
Nor let weak scruples mar thy towering thoughts!
The noble end gives sanction to the means,
And all, that leads to greatness, must be great;
Thou shalt be mine; Thou! that alone art worth
The wishes of a man, unbounded power!
Thou! at whose nod the sons of earth submit,
Wisdom grows mute, and beauty yields her pride.

(Exit.

SCENE IV.

RAYMOND, EUDORA.
RAYMOND.
Alas! Eudora, 'twas not thus I wish'd
To meet thy kind embraces; 'twas not thus
I thought to pay thee for the restless hours
Of tedious absence.

EUDORA.
Thou art still the same,
Still rich in virtue, and unrivall'd honor.
Dear to my soul, far dearer than when first
I fondly listen'd to thy tender vows,
And holy marriage made me thine for ever.

RAYMOND.
Will not thy heart, will not thy spotless soul,
So nobly great, and shrined in such a form,
Kings might be proud to share their empire with thee,
Will it not mourn its melancholy lot
Joined to a wretch, and wedded to dishonor?

EUDORA.
Canst thou; my Raymond, so unkindly question?
O had thy nature, (which it ne'er could be)
Had it been led from virtue's sacred paths,
Had some wild start of frenzy, or ambition
Plung'd thee, unthinking, in a crime so great,
Could I in misery, in guilt, forsake thee?
No! Raymond, no! when thy repentant soul,
As soon it must, had seen its fatal error,
I should have echoed sigh to thee for sigh;
I should have watched thee weeping, till our tears
With mingled streams had wash'd out the offence,
'Till Heaven with mercy had beheld our sorrows,
And healed thy wounded spirit with forgiveness.

RAYMOND.
O thou most perfect! best beloved of women!

EUDORA.
Yet, my dear Lord, I see thy troubled mind:
O let me soothe it! let me pour the balm
Of love into the wound, teach thee secure
In conscious virtue, to deride the malice
Of rancorous envy, to despise its arts,
Nor feel oppressed by phantoms of dishonor!

RAYMOND.
No! I am blest in thee, thou purest joy!
Thou richest treasure; thou divinest good,
That gracious Heaven, in fulness of its bounty,
E'er deigned to shed upon the sons of men!
Yet must our hearts lament the royal youth,
Whose hovering spirit calls aloud on me
To avenge his murder.

EUDORA.
Has thy friendly zeal
Unmasked the close assassin?

RAYMOND.
Heaven forgive me,
If my surmises wrong a troubled mind
As guiltless as my own—but I have seen
Those signs of hurry, fear, and purterbation
In the o'erbusy Priest, that—

VERINO.
(within.)
Where is my Soldier, whose ungrateful country
Pays him for its security and fame
With all the indignities of vile suspicion?

RAYMOND.
Hark! my father!
I strongly wish, yet almost dread to meet him.
Leave me, my life, but for a few short minutes,
To calm his trouble; and I then will fly
To the soft bosom of my dear Eudora,
Whose love is honor, and whose words are peace!

(Exit Eudora.

SCENE V.

RAYMOND, VERINO.
VERINO.
(entering.)
O my brave son! come to thy father's arms,
And pour thy spirit in this aged heart!

RAYMOND.
My lord! my father! tis to you I owe
The little value, which your son can boast;
To you, as to its judge, my grateful heart
Has ever bowed; each action of my life
Has ta'en its color from your voice alone;
Fame was imperfect, till confirmed by you:
And what is slander, which you disbelieve?

VERINO.
Shame to the wretch, who can behold thee Raymond,
And think thou art a villain; but my son,
What strange mysterious troubles hover o'er thee!
Whence are these wonders? and what murd'rous hand
Has ta'en the prince's life, and aims at thine?
Tell me, my son, how far thine eyes have pierced
Into this scene of darkness!

SCENE VI.

VERINO, RAYMOND, OFFICER WITH GUARDS.
OFFICER.
Pray my lord
Forgive the unwilling messenger of ill!
I have strict orders to arrest Lord Raymond,
And bear him instantly to close confinement.

VERINO.
By Heaven it shall not be: Old as I am,
I will not tamely see my child destroyed
By the base arts of deep designing villains.

RAYMOND.
My noble father, moderate your rage!
It is a soldier's glory to obey;
Were each man injured, to indulge his wrath,
And madly dare to be his own avenger,
The beauteous chain of order would be broken;
And horrid anarchy o'erturn the world.
For me, I hold it cowardice to doubt
The justice of my king, and freely pardon
This harsh command to his afflicted age!
Sir I obey.

VERINO.
I am reproved, my Raymond,
Pardon, thou gallant youth, thy father's frenzy!
And be the weakness of my soul forgotten
In the bright blaze of thy superior virtue!

SCENE VII.

MAJONE, VERINO, RAYMOND, OFFICER, &c.
MAJONE,
(entering hastily.)
I come, Verino, as your friend, I come,
In just compassion to your suffering age,
And that brave youth, whose fame is basely wronged,
To warn you of the dangers that await you:
Have you received the king's commands? a fate
More horribly severe attends your son:
But these are matters for your private ear,
And claim your deepest thought—we must retire.

OFFICER.
My Lord, my orders were—

RAYMOND.
Sir, I attend you:
Be comforted my Father, for thy son
Is armed for every exigence,

VERINO.
Farewell,
Best portion of my being!

(Exit with Majone.

SCENE VIII.

RAYMOND, OFFICER AND GUARDS.
RAYMOND.
Thou, firm power,
Thou, Innocence, bright guardian of the soul!
Thou shalt support me still—thy chearing aid
Can make my dungeon luminous, or take
The stings of anguish from ignoble death!