University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Westmorland enters with the Officer.
Osbert.
My noble friend, most welcome!—You withdraw.

[Exit Officer.
West.
And is it come, the thirsted hour?—O transport!
Art thou mine, vengeance?—what! the sacrifice
Within the grasp of honour?—Haste, call forth
Thy guards—
Thy champions chosen to answer to the fire
That rages in my heart, thou yet art mine!—
Tho' the swift bolt should shoot between us, Osbert!
Thou art mine for ever!—

Osbert.
Be it!—Thou seest I have ta'en no vantage, Westmorland,
Of aid, arms, time, or place—fair, equal, all,
And secret—Silent, art thou?—then, come on;
[Draws.
And let us prove the prowess of an arm
So far renown'd—if mine betray me not,
Thou shalt be well encount'red—What impedes?—
For injured honour—for revenge—come on!—

West.
Amazement holds me—Is it possible!—
No vantage, dost thou say—and this right hand
Arm'd by thyself against thy proper bosom?
'Tis contradiction to eternal order—
Could aught so guilty, be so noble?—No—
I wage no war with thee—thou art not Osbert.

Osbert.
I am—Come on—
And rouze thee, like the lion, with the lash
Of wrongs, long treasured for the hour of wrath
And vengeance due.

West.
Osbert!

Osbert.
Say.

West.
What art thou?

Osbert.
One, who for a guilty deed,
Would make a gallant restitution.

West.
Yes, yes, you must—O glorious man!—you must—
The world impels—fame—honour rolling down
Through late posterity, demands it of thee.—
O, woe, that present virtue now must bleed,
For past transgression!—

Osbert.
Fall, whate'er may fall,
If my nerves tell me right, thou now art summon'd
To thy best guardianship—Art thou prepared?

West.
Not yet—not yet—This greatness, goodness, nobleness,
This bounteous satisfaction to your servant,
Does it not claim my praise?—it does, it does!—
O generous, gallant Osbert, cruel justice
Will wring his debt, though pity weep for it!
But not till I have paid, thus paid my thanks,
My homage, to my lord, my bounteous master!
[Kneels, and kisses his hand, then rises and draws.
Come on.
[They fight.
Rest you, my liege!—

Osbert.
No—fate is busy—
And we will know the issue—Now beware—

[Osbert is wounded—Westmorland steps back concerned, and Osbert leans upon his sword.
West.
Alas!—
How is it?

Osbert.
Westmorland!—

West.
What says my king?

Osbert.
Thy debt is paid!

West.
Forbid it, Heaven!—I wish'd not to exact
So close a reckoning.

Osbert.
Thine aspect tells me,
I have thy pity—If I have thy pardon,
To seal a bless'd oblivion of all injuries,
One last embrace!

West.
O, truly, to my arms,
My heart—my king, my gracious master!

[Embrace.
Osbert.
Pardon—full pardon, is it?

West.
Heaven shower on both a pardon free and full,
Like that I grant to Osbert!

Osbert.
Once, most loved,
And ever held in honour—noblest Westmorland!
O, had not passions hurried me to deeds,
Detested by the doer—what a race
Of kindred glory had we run together!

West.
Alas! the steps that press the paths of error,
Are not all thine.

Osbert.
My brother!—hast thou too had thy faults?—
Then lend thine arm to frailty—Let me lean
On that forgiving bosom—O, those tears,
Those tears, my Westmorland, they fall upon me,
Like Heaven's indulgent dew—each drop, of power
To wash a stain away!—This signet—take it—
Thy passport hence—I had to tell thee much—
Of love—of nobleness—o'ercome—yet struggling—
A moment—life's no more—It answers not—
Sad tidings, too—
They had unman'd thee!—thy Rowena is—Oh—

[Dies.
West.
Gone!—art thou gone forever?—Osbert, Osbert!—
To kill thee once, I would have given a world;
And now would give, thou noblest, first of men!
A thousand worlds to have thee back again.

[Exit.