University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in Damaral's Palace.
Enter Damaral.
DAMARAL.
Almeida come not yet!—I cannot bear
This ling'ring torture.—To pursue the villain
E'en now I tried, but shame and conscience struck me,
And drove me back.—I'm fallen abject low,
To skulk and tremble with a traitor's fear!
Enter Almeida.
How now?—Hast dragg'd him hither?

ALMEIDA.
No, my lord.

DAMARAL.
Then thou hast slain him?

ALMEIDA.
Slain him? Good my lord,
You talk'd not of his death: you bad me seek him,
And to our sov'reign's palace we pursued him.
He had been there—

DAMARAL.
Had been?—Where is he now?

ALMEIDA.
After a brief and private conference
With our new ruler, he again went forth,
And hasten'd tow'rds the bastion of Auvergne.

DAMARAL.
Why cam'st thou back? Why did'st thou not pursue him?

ALMEIDA.
I sent some followers after him, instructed
Without delay to bring him to thy presence,
Whilst I return'd to tell thee what had pass'd:
But, as he went in diligence, 'tis likely
He may, ere they could reach him, have gone forth.

DAMARAL.
'Tis well.—I would be private.—
[Exit Almeida.
Gone forth, said he?
Why aye—it may be—nay, it must be so.
What should prevent him, licens'd as he was,
Bearing commission too from Villiers' self?
Beyond all doubt he's gone, and all is safe.—
Safe?—Oh no, no! What can be safe, when thus
I have committed honour, fame, and conscience
To a perfidious slave?—Say he were true,
Secret as Erebus, that in the caves
Of dark unfathom'd ocean my offence
Were buried instantly, though from the world
My shame may be conceal'd, can I—oh thought
Destructive of my peace!—Can I e'er silence
Th'upbraiding monitor, which to my soul
Will speak the fatal truth?—Blush, Damaral, blush!
Seek out some far sequester'd nook, where ne'er
Can penetrate the eye or reach the voice
Of mortal man; there shroud thy shame, there shrink
From conscious guilt—Who's that?—What brings thee here?

Enter Ismena.
ISMENA.
If to thy presence thus I come uncall'd,
'Tis as a penitent to ask forgiveness.
Oh! could'st thou know the workings of my soul—

DAMARAL.
I am more calm than when I parted from thee,
But dare not trust myself to look upon thee.
Thy mask of candour is not now more fair,
Than it was erst, when, false and treacherous,
Thou stung'st the bosom that had shelter'd thee.

ISMENA.
I wear that mask no longer. No! for ever
I cast away disguise, and dare be honest.
Oh gracious Damaral! if thy noble heart
Be open to sweet mercy, hear my story,
And, though thou may'st not pardon, pity me!
Torn from the guardians of my early youth,
Within the walls of a seraglio rear'd,
I learnt no arts but those which pleasure taught,
And was enjoin'd no duty but obedience.
My sov'reign's will became his servant's law:
When he ordain'd to send me forth to prove thee,
I deem'd myself distinguish'd by his choice;
But, when I knew thee, when I found thee noble,
And grac'd with each heroic quality,
Which can exalt the man or deck the soldier,
My soul revolted at the foul design;
Virtue resum'd her empire o'er my heart,
And urg'd me to confess my fault and save thee.

DAMARAL.
I lov'd thee once—I will not chide thee now:
And he, whose peace thou'st ruin'd, thus forgives thee!
The heart, which can resist thy pow'rful pleadings,
Is more or less than human.

ISMENA.
Gen'rous man!
Is my fault pardon'd?—Witness, righteous heav'n!
And bless me as my penitence is true!

Enter Almeida.
ALMEIDA.
The council is conven'd. On urgent matters
Thy presence is requir'd.

DAMARAL.
Know'st thou if Hali
Be yet come back?

ALMEIDA.
As he went forth to treat
On business of grave import, 'tis unlikely
He should return so quickly.

DAMARAL.
Thou hast reason.
Report that instantly I will attend them.
[Exit Almeida.
Farewell, Ismena! let no recollection
Of former errors pang thy feeling breast.
I have forgotten them.

ISMENA.
My heart's too full
To thank thee as I ought. May ev'ry blessing
Light on thee and preserve thee!—But beware—
Beware of Hali!

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

Council Chamber.
Enter Du Mesnil and Garcias.
DU MESNIL.
Garcias! well met.—Know'st thou why thus we're summon'd?

GARCIAS.
Since last we here assembled, I've not heard
That aught important has occurr'd. Perhaps
The captive, whom our chief sent forth to treat
With Mustapha, has brought an answer back.
But see the noble Damaral.
Enter Damaral.
We discuss'd
The cause why our Grand-Master hath conven'd us.
We deem'd it might be, that the captive, charg'd
To bear his answer to the Turkish camp—

DAMARAL.
Is he return'd?

GARCIAS.
Nay, if thou know'st it not,
It surely cannot be.

DU MESNIL.
Whate'er the cause,
We now shall learn it, for our chief approaches.
Enter Villiers, Raymond, and Davila.
Behold us here, obedient to thy pleasure:
Vouchsafe to instruct us wherefore thus we meet.

VILLIERS.
The cause of meeting soon shall be detail'd.
At this eventful period, ev'ry moment
Teems with new circumstances, which demand
Our vigilant attention.

DU MESNIL.
True—the times
Are critical: we cannot be too cautious.
We have to deal with those, who scruple not
To use all means which may effect their ends.

VILLIERS.
We are aware of that, and therefore seek
To counteract their plans. Yet 'tis not easy,
Whate'er our caution be, to guard against
Our foe's insidious projects. Proteus like,
They can assume variety of shapes,
And mould themselves to what may best conduce
To work their purposes.—When I reflect
On the important trust we gave that captive,
Methinks we should have ponder'd more upon it.
We acted hastily. Yet had we cause, (to Damaral)

For thou wert satisfied he was trust-worthy.

DAMARAL.
I deem'd him so—

VILLIERS.
'Twas a sufficient sanction.
Had'st thou much converse with him?

DAMARAL.
Converse?—Yes,
We talk'd—He was an inmate in my house,
And so we had discourse.—He seem'd a man
Of more than ordinary depth of thought,
And well matur'd reflection.

VILLIERS.
May we ask,
If thou intrusted'st him with aught beyond
The limited instruction which we gave him?

DAMARAL.
I?—Good my lord! I have not seen him since.
Went he not straightway forth?—Is he return'd?

DAVILA.
If yet thou hast not heard, I may perchance
Impart some tidings of him. I and Raymond
Were station'd at the bastion of Auvergne,
When towards our post the trusty captive came.
He seem'd in haste, yet could I not avoid
With courteous salutation to accost him.
As we convers'd, certain of thy dependents
In haste came up. When they could find their speech,
They told him thou had'st need of him; but he,
Regardless of them, with more eagerness,
Insisted on his passage through the gate.

DAMARAL.
Thou did'st accord it?

DAVILA.
I had nearly done so;
But, on reflection thou might'st have strong cause
To stop his progress, I oppos'd his wishes.

DAMARAL.
What right had'st thou—

DAVILA.
I pray thee give me hearing,
My tale is nearly ended. He, indignant
That thus I barr'd his way, pushed on. A contest rose.
I know not what the issue might have been,
For he is strong and pow'rful, had not chance
By a propitious turn concluded it.
As we stood grappling, from his bosom fell
A signet—

DAMARAL.
How?—What say'st?

DAVILA.
Thine own—I knew it.
The symbol of a trust. What trust it were,
I guess'd our chieftain here might choose to know,
And therefore deem'd it right to arrest the bearer,
As I do thee.

[He lays hold on Damaral.
DAMARAL.
Hold off thy hands! Release me!

VILLIERS.
Let not respect be wanting to the man,
Whose services our Order has experienc'd.
(To Damaral)
—Prove as it may th'event, of this be sure,
Before suspicion can affect thy fame,
We must have weighty proof of thine offence.
Thy judges are the partners of thy glory,
They fought beneath thy banners, and partook
Of thy well-earn'd renown: as their own honour
They cherish thine; and, when they judge thy cause,
The recollection of thy past deserts
Will plead for thee more loudly in their hearts,
Than if a venal host of bold declaimers
Should advocate thine innocence.—Bring forth
The captive whom ye have in charge!
Enter Hali, guarded.
Stand forward!
Here, in this noble presence, art thou brought
To answer for thyself. Suspicions strong
Attach upon thee: yet, to save thyself,
Dare not—

HALI.
Thou may'st thine exhortation spare;
I know my life is forfeit to thy pow'r,
And scorn to save it by a mean evasion.
I stand prepar'd to answer, as becomes
A man disdainful of his fate.

VILLIERS.
'Tis well.
Whose was the signet, that we found upon thee?

HALI
—(Pointing to Damaral).
'Twas his—intrusted to me by himself.

VILLIERS.
And with what motive?

HALI.
Give me leave awhile.
Had I been one of those, whose tim'rous spirit
Shrank from th' approach of danger, I had not,
As I have done, affronted sure destruction.
Ye may believe me, for I care not now
Who knows my character. Let others pardon:
In the recesses of my soul I lodge
The wrongs I suffer; there I brood upon them,
Foster their growth, wait for the fav'ring moment
Which gives me 'vantage, while, meantime, with smiles
And courteous bearing I amuse my victim,
'Till my avenging dagger drinks his blood.

VILLIERS.
Methinks thou paint'st a fiend, and not a man.

HALI.
It matters not what title it deserves:
I speak it of myself.

VILLIERS.
Come to the point,
Nor further waste our time in vain discourse.

HALI.
It was not vain discourse, to shew the springs
Which mov'd my conduct.—Let me now proceed,
And let the stern and haughty Damaral hear.
Hopes of high retribution from your foes,
And deeply-rankling hatred of himself,
Led me, of risk disdainful, to devise
The means of his and Rhodes's overthrow.

DAMARAL.
Hatred of me?—What means he?—Until now
He knew me not.

HALI.
Thou knew'st not me, 'twas plain;
But I knew thee, and had strong cause to know.
Remember'st thou Velasquez, who once serv'd
Beneath thy banner, whom thy harsh controul
Compell'd to leave the service of the Order,
And, robb'd of ev'ry hope of fair ambition,
Elsewhere to seek his fortune?

DAMARAL.
Who?—Velasquez?—
Such man I think there was—

HALI.
Such man there is—
Behold him here before thee!

DAMARAL.
Heav'n and earth!
Am I so caught? So basely, blindly caught?

HALI.
Thou art!—And yet my triumph is not full.
Thyself, thy same, are prostrate at my feet:
But, had I reach'd the Turkish camp, the fall
Of Rhodes's self had dwindled thine to nothing.
This fate denied me; but enough remains.
I found thee deck'd with honour and renown;
I wrought upon thy vanity and passion,
I led thee to conspiracy and treason,
And now I leave thee to contempt and shame!

VILLIERS.
Prevent his further speech! (The guards seize Hali.

(To Damaral.)
—Th' atrocious slanders
Of this convicted traitor can't affect
Our confidence in thy long-honour'd worth.
I marvel not, that thus to be arraign'd
By one, who has avow'd his hatred to thee,
Should for a moment shake thy constancy.
A soldier's choicest treasure is his fame;
And who so well can estimate its value,
As he whose fame all others has surpass'd?
The short-liv'd triumph of malevolence
Will but enhance thy glory. Speak, and meet
His foul and daring charge with full reply.

DAMARAL.
Thrice noble prince! And ye, illustrious knights,
Once my companions in the toils of war,
Now here assembled to pronounce my doom,
That from my soul I thank ye for your candour,
That (to Villiers)
had I known thy nobleness and worth,
I had not wish'd to injure thee, believe.
Ye bid me justify myself, and promise
Such fair construction as my words deserve.
There was a time, when gladly I had seiz'd
Such fair occasion to release myself
From charges, which, to honourable minds,
Are worse than death. I had not waited then,
But, with the promptitude of innocence,
Boldly repell'd the voice of calumny.
Such time is pass'd!

VILLIERS.
Is past?—Nay, noble Damaral!
Forget not thus thyself.

DAMARAL.
Could I forget
Myself, and the transactions of this day,
I might obey thee.—Memory is too busy.
My bold accuser spoke the truth. He wrought
Upon my senseless vanity and passion,
He led me to conspiracy and treason,
Robb'd me of fame, and plung'd me in dishonour!

Enter Ismena, struggling with the Guards.
ISMENA.
Stand off! prevent me not!—I will have passage!
[She throws herself at the feet of Villiers.
Oh noble sir!

VILLIERS.
What mean'st thou?—Lady, rise—
This attitude becomes thee not.

ISMENA.
No, no!
Here let me prostrate fall, here, at thy feet,
Let me confess my shame, t'atone for crimes
By blackest villainy devis'd, and plead
For him, whose gen'rous, unsuspecting nature—

VILLIERS.
Retire—we have no time to hear thee now.

ISMENA.
In mercy send me not unheard away!
I plead not for myself—I am unworthy.
Oh! pour your vengeance on my guilty head,
Rack, if you will, the fatal form which 'snar'd him—

VILLIERS.
I may not hear thee more.—Thou must retire—

ISMENA.
Oh never, never!— (runs to Damaral)
—Dear, ill-fated Damaral!
Canst thou forgive me?

DAMARAL.
This is not the moment,
To give free utt'rance to my lab'ring thought.
I have forgiven thee—nay more, believe,
While this heart beats, or while this working brain
Retains the mem'ry of what most I lov'd,
Thou shalt be there.—But thou must now retire.
Should we not meet again—

ISMENA.
Not meet again!
(To Villiers)
If ye have hearts, oh! send me not away—

VILLIERS.
We shew most pity, in preventing thee
From torturing a mind, already loaded
With more than human fortitude can bear.
Du Mesnil! lead her hence.

ISMENA.
A moment yet—
A little moment.—I have much to say,
Ere this poor suff'ring heart with sorrow breaks!

DAMARAL.
Nay, nay, unman me not.—May angels guard thee!

VILLIERS.
Bear her away!
[Exeunt Ismena and Du Mesnil.
That an event, so novel in our Order,
So dreadful in itself and consequences,
Should strike you, noble comrades! with dismay,
I cannot marvel. 'Mongst yourselves resolve
What course we should adopt. But for this wretch,
This trait'rous renegado from our faith,
Whose foul contrivance has seduc'd a spirit
Once our support and pride, what else for him
Remains, but instant death?

HALI.
(Breaking from the guards)
Unhand me, ruffians!—
Give vengeance her free scope! I fear it not.
Whate'er my life, whatever were my crimes,
My death is glorious. Think ye I will plead
For mercy or remission of my tortures?
No! though Velasquez be your victim, still
He triumphs in his fate, and scorns your pow'r.
Draw forth your murd'rous instruments; devise
New punishments my constancy to prove:
I'm arm'd against them all. From ev'ry vein
The life-blood may distil; the ling'ring rack
May multiply the agonies of death:
Amid them all, this cheering thought remains—
Ye can't bereave me of accomplish'd vengeance!

VILLIERS.
Away with him!
[Exit Hali, guarded.
Now comes the painful task,
By stern necessity impos'd upon us—

DAVILA.
Your pardon, noble sir! My heart is full,
And feelings irresistible incite me
To speak the honest dictates of my soul.
While unacquainted with the gen'rous nature
Of this brave knight, I censur'd his demeanour,
And, with an earnestness I now regret,
Pursued him to the ruin of his fame.
I knew not then the sum of his desert:
But, when I see him with sublime disdain
Reject all subterfuge, when pow'rful truth
Impels him to avow a secret crime
Charg'd on him by the single testimony
Of a malignant and revengeful foe,
I feel and own his honour. Let me plead
In his defence, whom lately I accus'd,
And, trusting to the nobleness of those
Who guide our Order's councils, hope for mercy.

VILLIERS.
We all must feel like thee. In ev'ry bosom
Remembrance lives of his recorded worth,
And justice shall by mercy be attemper'd.
Meantime— (to Damaral)
—while undecided is thy cause,
Thou must to Raymond render up thy sword.

DAMARAL.
Were ye to judge me as I judge myself,
Your course had been far other.—Ere I leave you,
Take for your noble clemency my thanks.
Wer't not for that which rankles in my heart,
And turns to mortal poison the blest mercy,
Which, when it shews me what I might have been,
Doubles my shame and sorrow, I might prize
A life, which now no more is worth my care.
But I too long detain you. What remains
Will soon be past. I must resign my sword. (Takes it off.)

Yet, ere we part, let me again survey
That blade (half draws it)
, whose edge with destination sure
Oft bore destruction 'mid our Order's foes.
Thou wert my trusty friend; thou ne'er deceiv'st me—
I then was not unworthy to possess thee.
What's that?—a tear?—and from thy master's eye?
I will not wipe it off—it shall remain.
Excuse me, sirs! ye've all been witnesses
What this good sword has done (draws it).
It serv'd me once
To gain an ample harvest of renown,
Nor now deserts me in adversity.

[He stabs himself.
VILLIERS.
Prevent his rash attempt!

DAMARAL.
It is too late.
[He falls.
Farewell!—when my offences shall be told,
Be it remember'd that I made atonement.
(To Villiers)
Give me thy hand—forget—forgive me—oh!

[He dies.