 | The Heroine of the Cave |  |
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ACT IV.
SCENE I.
The Council Chamber in the Imperial Palace.RODOLPHO and LORENZO.
LORENZO,
The Prince Colredo, of right worthy fame,
Has prov'd himself no recreant from his blood,
And so press'd Seyfert as t'obtain a charge
Against his conduct for perfidious crimes,
Strengthen'd by some discoveries lately made,
Which have his master's virtues so alarm'd,
That in the summon'd council here to meet,
He means in person to attend the trial.
RODOLPHO.
Then must that meteor fall, that baleful glar'd
O'r all the land—whelming destruction sure
On those who dar'd t'oppose his selfish views,
And not consent to be the tools of vice.
LORENZO.
The crest fall'n traitor sees too late his error,
That he must sink as sudden as he rose,
Spurn'd by his Prince—detested by his peers,
And object of the people's universal curse.
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But, behold his judges come!
Enter Members of the Council.—COLREDO, and the other Courtiers as Auditors; the Emperor preceded by some of his Body Guards, before whom when seated, SEYFERT is brought in.
COLREDO.
Most august sov'reign of the German empire,
Tho' nought to me more grating than t'impeach,
Unless when grossest crimes compel me to it;
Which mar allegiance—and disgrace the throne;
Of all the charges, I 'gainst Seyfert urge,
The first is to have made his creatures spread
False rumours, as from me, to soil the fame
Of fair Constantia—That the duel caus'd,
'Gainst which he publish'd his forbidding edict.
The next, his having your imperial ear
Abus'd with false reports, that brave Alberti
Said, as my lot was in the field to fall,
“Beneath his luckier sword, had the Emperor
“Been there, he with repeated hostile wounds
“Wou'd have reveng'd his tyrant prohibition.
The third, his base intent upon my life,
In having me convey'd, for secret cure,
To a man brib'd by him to poison me,
And so prevent my vindicating truth,
In justly telling what Alberti said:
“Colredo, I am sorry for thy fall—
“Serve well our Prince; a better never reign'd!
Behold a charge still worse—this wicked paper
Sent to Constantia's house—the imperial name,
A forgery as must to all appear.
[The Members of the Council each view it.—The Emperor appears much agitated; one of the Council makes a sign for Colredo to go on.]
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Night, was to have the widow'd mourner seiz'd,
And carried to a place for violence form'd,
To force dishonour on a hapless dame;
And then her body in the Danube thrown
As seeming by herself, through wild despair.—
From which attempt, her lucky flight had sav'd her.
The surgeon and the bravoes are without,
Ready t'attest each article I've urg'd.
The royal signing vouches its own falshood,
Say, hast thou aught in answer to me, Seyfert?
SEYFERT.
No, my death's fix'd I see!—and do expect it.
Revenge I wish'd for, and therein have fail'd;
In my own toils I'm caught, and will not plead.
THE EMPEROR.
Thou monster in our kind! thou blot of nature!
On whom ev'n hell must with amazement gaze,
To think one man can all its wickedness
Exceed—Hear then, thou villain multiplied!
Forthwith Alberti shall be brought to court,
With every honour that our state can pay
To him and his much suffering Constantia.
But on the morn of their arrival here,
Thou diest!—and till the executing hour,
Let that dire thought corrode thy ulcer'd soul—
Begone thou wretch!—Guards, snatch him from my sight.
[Seyfert is carried off.
Haste thee, Lorenzo, let no time be lost,
From Idra's Cave to bring the martyrs back,
With whom shall worthy seem of royal mercy.
If yet alive—their death's I greatly fear;
And that Alberti, through heroic pride,
Cou'd not survive the infamy of Idra.
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From that too common error of crown'd heads,
A weak reliance on the faith of others,
Instead of knowing all things by themselves—
Break we up council—and all hence depart.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
The Cave.ALBERTI, EVERARD and FAULKNER.
ALBERTI.
What, live to see such mortal pangs again!
Survive such conflicts and be still a man!
Thou woud'st not have me live.
EVERARD.
For her dear sake, I'd bear it to the last,
Lay down the weary load of life with her.
ALBERTI.
Thy reason is above such mean advice;
Thy manly sentiments cry shame upon't;
Didst not advise me to the brave resolve,
And say that none but hypocrites cou'd blame it?
Low, earth-born worms, and such as wanted souls
To do it? thou did'st—and I'll thy council take.
EVERARD.
I knew not then the gripe that kept thee here,
The vital anchor that forbid thy passage,
And held thee fasten'd in the port of life;
I knew not then—by Heav'n, thy woes distract me.
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My date of sorrows shall be shorten'd soon,
I'll burst the bonds, and set my love at large.
EVERARD.
For her dear sake endure this misery
A little longer—unlook'd for remedies
May sudden come from Heav'n's rich blissful store
To thy relief, and all may yet be well.
ALBERTI.
I pray have done; I am resolv'd to die:
Now look into thy own kind heart a little,
Feel but one moment what thy friend must suffer;
Oh, make my agonizing lot thy own,
And figure to thyself what I must feel.
Each moment is much worse to me than death:
I die a thousand living deaths each hour;
Thro' ev'ry sense the mortal arrows pierce,
And dread reflection sharpens every point.
EVERARD.
Say, wou'dst thou murder her, by stabbing thus
Thyself? She never will survive the blow;
Consider that, and wait the will of Heav'n.
ALBERTI.
Cou'd I bear all the bitter task for both;
Cou'd I from her pluck all the thorny anguish,
And plant it deep in this devoted bosom;
Cou'd I with tenfold tortures her redeem,
And set her sad imprison'd soul at large;
By Heav'n, I'd groan with joy beneath the load,
The precious load that made her burden light,
And step by step keep equal pace with time,
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To fate's abyss, and with the world expire!
EVERARD.
And she deserves it from thy grateful heart,
The pride of nature and the boast of time;
But, oh! consider thou wilt murder her.
ALBERTI.
She shall not see me give the gen'rous blow;
And lenient time may heal the wound in her,
But whilst I live her bondage must remain;
Her miseries are grafted on my being;
She will be wretched whilst she looks on me,
And all her woes are plac'd to my account.
I must remove the magnet from her sight,
And then my precious angel will be free,
And live long years of joy when I am gone,
And mix'd with this forgotten mould for ever:
It shall be so—by Heav'n, my friend, it shall!
See my remains deposited in dust,
With all the decency this den affords.
Then take her with thee to the earth's green lap,
These horrid limits cannot hold her here,
For she's as free as fragrant gales that breathe
O'er laughing lawns, and beds of roses sweet.
O take her with thee, like the morning star,
And let her see her father and her friend;
And, oh! if possible, let Constantia
Never think more of lost Alberti's name!
Oh, must I then be torn from her for ever!
Oh, must I never more behold her face!
Oh, agony! beyond enduring long;
Distraction quick; or instant death shall save me!
Now, my Everard, all my doubts shall vanish;
And with this blow I conquer my hard fate!
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CONSTANTIA.
Ah, stop thy horrid hand! what wou'd thy phrenzy!
Ruffian, coward, traitor to thy love and me!
ALBERTI.
Stand off, thou idol of my parting soul!
I die the martyr of my love and thee;
I cannot look upon thy face and live:
Nor love, nor friendship shall bind down this hand:
No pow'r on earth, not ev'n thy much lov'd arm!
CONSTANTIA.
Oh, help me, Everard! to restrain his rage.
Was this thy mean invented trick to steal,
And leave me struggling in the breach alone?
What, like a bravo, play the coward's part,
The poorest meanest coward's part; fling down
That daring instrument of fear and shame;
And let a woman teach thee to be brave.
ALBERTI.
Live Constance, I command thee live—be happy,
And listen to my Everard; he will be
A friend to thee, thou idol of my soul—
Nay—all thy fond entreaties are in vain;
Thy precious tears that mingle with my blood,
That look that might disarm a tyger's rage,
My resolution is too strong for all.
My Everard will be thy faithful friend,
And to thy happy father safe restore thee;
This moment is the last I e'er shall breathe—
Remember well the dear advice I give thee;
A long farewell to all—
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LORENZO.
Hold thy rash hand!
ALBERTI.
Ha! is there then a ruling hand above!
Or are they mortals that prevent my fate?
Oh! art thou then a messenger of grace
Sent down with winged speed from watchful Heav'n?
Ah, is there then one friendly angel there,
Who thinks upon a wretch like lost Alberti?
LORENZO.
There is, there is, recover thy lost reason:
I come to chear thee now with joyful tidings.
ALBERTI.
Eternal Providence, I now adore thee!
My brother, and my friend, the Lord Lorenzo!
LORENZO.
Art thou the sad remains of him I lov'd,
The gallant, noble, and the brave Alberti?
ALBERTI.
I am thy friend; thy wretched friend, thy brother.
LORENZO.
My happy brother, and my rescu'd friend,
Say, is my wretched sister yet alive?
Or has she perish'd in this horrid cave?
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She lives, thy injur'd sister lives, with mind
As radiant, as her form is darken'd—See
The drooping angel by her woes oppress'd;
My tranced soul! Oh, what a change is here!
LORENZO.
Oh, my dear, my long-lost and injur'd sister!
Oh, pow'r of mercy, what a sight is here!
Oh, speak Constantia, and rejoice with me.
Look kindly on thy lov'd, thy dear Lorenzo,
He brings thee news will drive thy woes away;
Thy husband's pardon, and thy father's blessing.
CONSTANTIA.
To leave me shiv'ring in a place like this,
Who came so far, so very far to see him!
Had I a dagger I shou'd soon be with him.
He stole unkindly from my widow'd arms,
And I shall search about in vain to find him;
Oh! this will be a bitter night to me!
LORENZO.
Thy groundless grief misleads thy troubled mind,
It is but fancy and deceitful vision.
CONSTANTIA.
I saw the bloody dagger in his hand;
To leave his Constance in the Cave of Idra!
What storms, what whirlwinds thunder in that thought!
Ay, there the dagger gleams—Ah! see—he sits
On yonder cloud, and waits to take me with him!—
LORENZO.
Thy husband lives, and kneels with joy before thee.
Enjoy my sister, this blest change of fortune;
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With open arms and panting heart before thee.
CONSTANTIA.
That cursed dagger! had I snatch'd thee first,
My husband, now, and I had slept together;—
It was so selfish and so fraudful in him,
I thought him honest as the laws of heav'n;
I will pursue him to the courts on high—
These doors are barr'd, and I'm a slave for ever.
LORENZO.
Call reason home, reflect my dearest sister,
Thy husband lives, and I'm thy happy brother.
CONSTANTIA.
What dreadful glimpses shoot athwart my mind,
And let in light on my distracted soul!
Oh, barbarous Alberti!—Who stands there?
Or does his cruel phantom mock me thus?
Or am I with him in the world of spirits?
ALBERTI.
Alas, my love! I am no spirit, but Alberti—
Thy god-like brother stop'd my desp'rate hand;
He was the saving angel that preserv'd me:
Thy brother, Lord Lorenzo, stands before thee,
He brings my pardon, and thy father's blessing.
CONSTANTIA.
How my mind labours, and my senses wander!
A train of motley'd things are marshal'd now
Before me: who stands there?—Is that white hope
That mingles with the throng—and drives far off
The ugly forms of black despair?—I saw
The bloody dagger in his bosom plung'd—
And yet, methinks, I saw my brother too.
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Thou did'st; thy loving brother stands before thee.
CONSTANTIA.
The clouds clear up, the dawn approaches nigh,
The curtain of my fate has chang'd its colour;
I see a thousand gaudy visions there!
It is the story of my chequer'd life!
How the white brightens, and the black grows pale—
The morning beams; 'tis day-light all around.—
What shapes are these? My brother and my husband!
It is my noble brother! and my husband
Is yet alive! I see them both before me!—
Now radiant joys come rushing to my bosom;
Oh, now, divide my panting heart between you!
My raptur'd soul comes leaping to my lips!
My brother and my husband, both alive!
And in the Cave of Idra! Oh, come both;
Come both, my heart shall make you ample room,
And lodge ye both within my breast for ever!
There never was a wretch so blest as I?
LORENZO.
O thou art bless'd beyond the reach of hope,
The reach of wishes, and the world's despite.
ALBERTI.
Yes, thou shalt shine once more my precious love,
Among the courtly stars distinguish'd high,
And crown'd the richest constellation there,
With virtuous beauty brighter than the sun.
CONSTANTIA.
Thy love is all my highest boast on earth;
My brother! what a happy change is this?
My dearest brother, say how cam'st thou hither?
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I will explain it all in proper season,
And thy much harass'd soul shall taste of comfort.
ALBERTI.
Ah, Constantia! thy hurted mind had near—
Forgive my rashness, Oh! I cou'd not live
And see thee wretched for my sake—forgive me.
CONSTANTIA.
I will not now rebuke thy rash attempt,
Nor call thy cruel purpose by its name;
I'll talk of nothing now but joy and wonder.
My bounding heart! I know not what I do!
So sudden, and so glorious! from this hell
To that bright Heav'n! I cannot bear such bliss,
It is too much for my oppressed spirit,
Weak nature sinks beneath the vast extreme—
Let doubting infidels be dumb for ever.
Thou cave accurs'd, my soul shall bless thee now;
Still call thy precious image up, both day
And night, with bitter, sweet remembrance. I
Shall see my father's face again—Embrace
His aged rev'rend knees, and ask his blessing—
Then shall my mother shed the tears of joy
With melting heart upon her kneeling daughter;
Then shall my husband say that I deserve him.
ALBERTI.
His pride, his boast, and his eternal triumph!
O thou shalt be thy happy husband's theme
Thro' ev'ry joyful stage of rescued life;
And, Oh, when gentle time with lenient hand
By weary nature taught, shall lay me down
In hoary resignation sweet on thy
Peaceful pillow, and in thy arms held fast,
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With closing eyes in life's expiring gasp,
Shall call on Constance and the Cave of Idra.—
Oh, I will for ever love and bless thee—
But ages of delight wide stretch between us
And that distant hour; Oh! thou shalt ere then
Be blest and honour'd by th'adoring world.
Thy worth shall be the theme of ev'ry muse,
And breathing statues shall record thy name.
LORENZO.
Haste hence my brother, O my sister, haste,
These hateful weeds offend me to the soul.
ALBERTI.
Constantia come, let's take the last farewel
Of our sad dwelling, reassume ourselves,
And visit light with chearful hearts once more.
END OF THE FOURTH ACT.
| The Heroine of the Cave | |