University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE X.

The inside of a cavern. The setting sun seen through a chasm in the rock. Ricardo and other banditti discovered drinking.
Ricardo.
'Tis strange, that thro' this solitary wood
No traveller has pass'd since yester-dawn!
Beshrew me but I'm weary of our trade;
Knaves are so multiplied, that honest men
Live better than ourselves; and more secure,
For each depends upon himself alone.

Second Robber.
Ricardo, dost thou doubt our firm alliance?

Ricardo.
In truth, not I; it is the Time's disease
That palsies honesty; for villains thrive
In such profusion of victorious guilt,
That secresy is useless to our calling.
Why skulk in cavern'd mountains, shrink from light,
And lurk in ambush for the trav'ller's gold,
While in the broad effulgence of full noon,
In cities, throng'd with gaping multitudes,
The bolder caitiff plunders all secure!

Third Robber.
Thou know'st the world, Ricardo.

Ricardo.
Yes; enough
To make me shun one half the race of man,
And pity all the rest! so frail is nature!

First Robber.
Discrimination finds no easy task
In searching the gay paths of busy life,
Where all is outward artificial show,
Put on to varnish falsehood.

Ricardo.
True; but deception wears so thin a mask,
That stern philosophy ne'er fails to note it.
Whatever shape, complexion, or disguise,
Hypocrisy may take, of ermin'd robe,
Or threadbare vestment scant, or witching smile,
Or cynic brow austere, it cannot hide
The base deformity that lurks within;
The bold and ragged knave less dang'rous still
Than he who pranks him in a cloth of gold!

Valmont.
(without.)
Hillo! within there.

Ricardo.
Silence, good fellows:
Let us retire, and shrewd observance make
Of our unwary guest; perchance some poor
And woe-worn pilgrim here would find a nook
To shield his body from the midnight blast:
Do not forget, my comrades, we are men.

[Exeunt to the inner cave.
Enter Valmont, in the habit of a vassal, supporting Honoria, who has a white veil partly thrown off her face: she enters fearfully.
Valmont.
Here nothing can molest thee. Night draws near,
And ere dim shadows shroud the twilight gleam
I'll venture forth; not far from this lone spot
I mark'd a clust'ring vineyard, whose scorch'd bank
Was kindly freshen'd by a limpid spring,
That from the neighb'ring steep meand'ring flow'd.
They shall supply our solitary meal;
And, when the smiling yellow-vested morn
Crowns with a wreath of gold the eastern hill,
We will pursue our journey. Cheerly, love;
Look up, and all our miseries will end.

Honoria.
Think'st thou that murder will not cry aloud,
And rouse the fates to vengeance? Will yon Heav'n,
Whose beamy eye encompasseth the world,
Wink at the deed of horror? Ev'ry thorn
That festers in the deeply-wounded mind
May from Time's lenient pow'r a balsam take
To draw its poison forth; save where the hand,
Blurr'd with the life-stream of a fellow creature,
Contaminates the means ordain'd to heal,
And leaves the wretch past cure!

Valmont
(grasping his sword.)
'Twere best to die!
That cure at least is ready to my grasp;
Thou know'st I am no coward—

Honoria.
Dreadful thought!
Oh! wouldst thou then destroy thy better part,
Turn from the balsam Heav'n in pity leaves
To cleanse thy soul's deep wound and seal its pardon?
Wouldst thou sum up the dark account of horrors,
And, by the sure damnation of thy deed,
Rush from this transitory scene of anguish
To the dread chaos of eternal woe?

Valmont.
The complicated pangs that rend my heart
Would melt the ministers of wrath to mercy.

Honoria.
But will not justice urge her sacred claim?
Will not the tongues of men denounce the act
That bids humanity recoil, aghast?

Valmont.
Why did I quit my home? My lofty state
Had silenc'd busy clamour, and forbad
The breath of calumny to taint my name!

Honoria.
Oh! empty sophistry! delusive hope!
'Tis in thy greatness thy conviction lies.
Unseen, the sweetest low-born buds decay;
But the proud Cedar, tow'ring on the rock,
Stands like a land-mark to attract men's eyes;
And, tho' it shares the bright meridian blaze,
It cannot 'scape the pelting of the storm!

Valmont.
Soon as my footsteps greet Helvetia's land,
I may defy my fate; for there, secure,
What slave shall menace Valmont?

Ricardo
(observing them from the inner cave.)
Valmont!

Valmont.
Hah! heard'st thou not a voice, with hollow sound,
Repeat the name of Valmont?

Honoria.
Such it seem'd;
'Twas but the echo of this vaulted cave.
Now let me rest; and while you venture forth
To seek refreshing fruits, I'll watch and pray!

Valmont.
I will not leave thee long; and Heav'n, I trust,
Will guard thee till my weary steps return.

[Exit.
Honoria.
Now all is still, and terrible as death!
Here meditation fearfully employs
The melancholy hour; yet unappall'd
Hood-wink'd destruction seems to stalk secure!
What, if my father should no more return?
How shall I find my way? where seek repose?
Oh! Alferenzi! [taking a picture from her bosom]
if thy spirit blest
Could visit these dread haunts, thou wouldst appear,
To soothe me with a gleam of consolation!

Ricardo
(still observing her.)
I will protect thee!

Honoria.
Celestial pow'rs! again the airy voice
Of some prophetic spirit strikes my soul
With petrifying sounds! Perhaps this cave,
Fill'd with enchantment, is the dark abode
Of spectres horrible, whose bleeding wounds
Make ghastly show of murder unaveng'd!
An icy languor creeps along my veins,
Forewarning me of danger near at hand!
My father, oh! return.—He hears me not!
Where shall I hide me? all within is death!
And all without, a solitary wild,
Bestrew'd with thorns and perilous to tread!
This inner cavern will be less expos'd
To the night's nipping air— [The robbers rush forth.

O God! defend me! What is your intent?
I do expect some mercy, as you hope
Yourselves to be forgiv'n!

Second Robber.
What are you, lady?

Honoria.
The wretched offspring of a wretched Sire;
A wand'ring exile from my native home;
Too poor for plunder, and too proud to weep;
For I believe that virtue bears a charm
Which bids the boldest villain shrink appall'd.

Third Robber
(siezing Honoria.)
Nay, if you brave us—you shall know our pow'r!

Ricardo.
Ruffian! stand back. Sweet lady, you are safe!
For he that lifts his sacrilegious hand
To strike at helpless woman, shames mankind,
And sinks his coward soul so deep in hell,
That nature scorns to own him! Spare your thanks;
I will defend you; we are desp'rate men;
But cruelty can never urge that sword
Which courage vaunts the bearing.

Honoria.
Generous man!
Now I can weep! But they are thankful tears!
Wrongs urge the soul to vengeance, and call forth
That pride which proves the antidote to grief;
But kindness steals so sweetly o'er the sense,
So melts the throbbing heart with tender joy,
That, as the sun darts forth amidst the storm,
The eye of grateful rapture beams thro' tears!

Ricardo.
Soon must I leave you, for the hour draws near
Which calls us to our watchful occupation.

Honoria
(kneeling to Ricardo.)
O! hear me.
If in your pathway you should chance to meet
A venerable man, for my sake spare him!
His years are nearly number'd; let him live
To make his peace with Heav'n! for much, I fear,
He's not prepar'd for death!

Ricardo.
He shall be safe.
Now, let me counsel you to seek repose.
In yon small cavern lies a rushy couch,
Where innocence may taste of balmy dreams,
For guilt has often slumber'd there secure!
Lady, Heav'n guard you!

[Exeunt banditti.
Honoria.
Thou art not us'd to pray! and yet thy voice
May find swift passport to the realms of grace,
When pious fraud may supplicate in vain;
For thou art merciful! Alas! I fear
Some savage thing hath cross'd my father's way;
The prowling wolf; or, what is far more fell,
Man, without pity for his hapless kind!
Thou solitary den, where guilt retires
To hold fierce converse with the fiends accurs'd,
Undaunted I approach thee! for that pow'r
Which guards the cradled infant while it sleeps,
Sustains the lab'ring bark amidst the storm,
And, while the tempest rends the mountain pine,
Shields the poor shepherd's cot, will not forsake
The child of sorrow in the hour of rest!

[Exit to the inner cave.

SCENE XI.

Night.
On one side, the Apennines, with the entrance of a Cavern half way up; on the other, a thick wood. Enter Valmont.
Valmont.
Oh! what a lost and wretched thing is man!
Who, bold in Hell's worst embassy, will start
At the small rustling of a beetle's wing!
The wind that moans along these cavern'd cliffs
Seems like the murmurs of a thousand tongues
That tell my soul's undoing! The faint stars,
The many-million eyes of prying Heav'n,
Gleam humid, and surcharg'd with nature's tears!
Yet what of that? 'Tis but my mind's disease,
That feeds faint reason with portentous signs,
And makes it sicken at the touch of thought!
What have I not committed that Heav'n loathes?
First, in the ghastly train of hellish crimes,
A noble brother, who in my defence
Slew a proud Milanese, beheld in me
His curs'd accuser; and, to exile driv'n,
Left me the lord of all his vast domains.
Next, a chaste wife I banish'd from her home;
My fickle sense was sated with her charms,
And meaner beauties triumph'd in their turn!
Where shall my fev'rish conscience find repose?
All the long sunny day, when Summer smiles,
And leads old Time in flow'ry garlands on,
A living spectre, hopeless and forlorn,
I journey forth to an oblivious grave?
Nor at that fearful goal will the dread strife
Feel blissful termination; for beyond
The rending pangs that warn the trembling soul
From its clay habitation, reason tells
Of something terrible! and yet so sure,
That nature starts to think on't! Hark! what stirs?
[Alferenzi appears in the wood, and the day begins to dawn.
Is it the potent fever of my brain
That takes my coward fancy prisoner,
Or do I hear the sound of mortal tread?
[After listening and looking round.
'Twas but the waving of the sun-parch'd boughs,
Whose tawny canopy o'erspreads the wood.

[Valmont advances towards the cavern. Alferenzi rushes forward.
Valmont.
Horrible spectre! wherefore dost thou haunt me?
Why from the shrouded pallet of the grave
Present the form of murder'd Alferenzi?
In pity hence; for know, that spirits pure
Can hold no converse with a damned wretch,
In whose convulsive soul all hell is raging!
Away! away!

Alferenzi.
Valmont! thy hour draws near!
I know thee, and will try what guardian fiend
Will blunt my sword, uplifted to destroy thee!
What wraps thee so in horrible conceit?

Valmont.
Thick mystery! that dims the mental eye,
And makes us, scarce believe us that we are,
Seeing, what cannot be! 'Tis all illusion.

Alferenzi.
Strike at my heart, inexorable parent!
Or guard thy own, for one of us must fall.

[Drawing his sword.
Valmont.
If Alferenzi lives, then all is well!

Alferenzi.
All is not well, prevaricating slave!
Draw, draw thy sword; let Heav'n decide between us

Valmont
(drawing his sword.)
Then be it so! Though thou hast once escap'd,
Thou'rt not invulnerable: now, come on;
I'll teach thy tongue to quell its lofty phrase,
Or perish in the combat.

[They fight; Honoria rushes forth from the cavern, and stands before the entrance.
Honoria.
Oh! spare him! spare him!
[Alferenzi drops his sword.
Barbarian, do not kill an aged man!
Or stay thy sword, and let me perish with him!

(Honoria descends; Alferenzi recedes.)
Alferenzi.
Thou sainted spirit! shade of my Honoria!
That, like an angel, com'st to turn my sword,
And save my soul, thirsting for blood of man,
Do not approach me! ev'ry trembling nerve
Obeys thy potent eye, and the cold drops
That bathe my brain will quench the ray of reason.

Honoria
(Valmont leans against a tree.)
He lives! he lives! It is my Alferenzi!
Light of my life! dearer than life itself!
[Embracing.
Oh! do these eyes behold thee once more breathing?
My father, here, before the face of Heav'n,
Kneel, and adore the minister of pity,
Who, bending from its sphere, restores him to us!
(Valmont appears pale and faint. Honoria supports him.)
Speak! art thou hurt? Hah! from thy mangled breast
The life-stream gushes! Ye relentless pow'rs!
Turn not the measure of my joy to woe!
[Valmont falls; Honoria kneels.
Let me support thee: look upon thy child:
Oh! speak, for I must hear thy voice once more,
To say, that thou forgiv'st me: Save him, Heav'n!

Valmont.
Sweet image of a chaste and injur'd saint!
A dying father's blessing shall be thine.

Honoria.
Thou shalt not die; I cannot live to see
Those darling eyes closed in the sleep of death!

Valmont.
Brave Alferenzi! I believ'd thee murder'd;
In the dark-tangled wood that skirts our castle,
I saw thee fall, thrice wounded by my sword.

Alferenzi.
Thy victim was duke Albert! Hapless Valmont,
Heav'n's sure to hear when murder cries for justice!

Honoria.
Oh! mis'ry supreme! oh! my lost father!

Valmont.
If yet the noble Leonardo lives,
Seek out his lone asylum, and restore
The just possession of his rich domains;
Tell him, that Heav'n at last aveng'd his wrongs,
And humbled his proud brother to the dust!
Now let me press thee to my streaming heart;
[To Honoria.
Alas! my parting sigh will soon extinguish
The feeble lamp of life, and my last pang
Pay the dread forfeit which my crimes demand!

[Dies.
Honoria
(to Alferenzi.)
Now, is thy rage appeas'd? If thy fell soul
Still pants for Valmont's blood, strike here! this heart,
This bursting heart, will scorn to sue for pity.

Alferenzi.
Do not distract me with thy fierce reproaches;
A dread coincidence of time and act
Drew me from Reason's empire to Despair!
'Dire and disastrous as the deed may seem,
Twas to avenge thy wrongs that I am guilty;
For I believ'd that Valmont—thy assassin!
Let me entreat thee to be patient, love.

Honoria.
Hence with thy feign'd contrition! my weak brain
Burns with the frenzy thou hast heap'd upon it.

Alferenzi.
This sight will make thee mad! Quit, quit the scene,
Nor feed the gnawing anguish of thy soul.
Soon will I bear thee to my native shores,
Where, 'midst the fond endearments of new friends,
Of noble kindred, and resplendent joys,
The mem'ry of past grief shall fade away.

Honoria.
(rising.)
Oh! 'twill not be! This is my destin'd home!
I'd rather wander like a pilgrim poor!
Toil, like a slave who in the torrid blaze
Curses the sun that mark'd him for despair,
Than journey thither: here will I remain.
Oh! the vast sum of my disastrous life
Seems like an atom to this world of woe!
[Honoria returns to the body.
Yet let me kiss that cheek, pale and distorted
Stern was thy aspect, yet my soul would give
Half its dear hopes of an immortal crown
To see those eyes but once more gaze upon me
But they are dark, clos'd in the sleep of death

Alferenzi.
Let me conceal thee in some spot secure,
While to the earth I give this breathless corse.
I do not covet life, depriv'd of thee,
And wilt thou doom me to the tort'ring rack?
Canst thou behold this throbbing, loyal heart,
Mangled and bleeding as a public show?
Wilt thou not shudder when the rabble's shout
Shall drown the agonizing groan of death?

Honoria.
Oh! do not torture me; alas! my soul
Already shrinks beneath its weight of grief,
Wherefore deny a murder'd father's dust
The holy incense of a filial tear?
No other rite will consecrate his grave!

Alferenzi.
Delay brings danger; see, the purple dawn
Is gayly tissu'd o'er with beamy gold!
The merry birds begin their matin songs,
And new-born glory animates the scene!
Let me conceal thee in yon cavern'd cliff.

Honoria.
Ha! now I do bethink me, wretched man!
This is no place for parley! Yon dark cave
Is the dread haunt of robbers: get thee hence;
Danger and death await thee! Oh! begone.

Alferenzi.
What! leave thee to the mercy of banditti?
Forsake thee, helpless, faint, forlorn and sad,
To be the victim of wild rioters!
The sport of ruffians—lawless, cut-throat knaves!
Beside yon mountain a poor clay-built shed
I slightly noted as I pass'd along;
Fly, fly thee thither; I will follow soon.

Honoria.
Oh! dread alternative! oh! cruel task!
Betake thyself to flight, ill-fated man!
For we must meet no more! One little word,
One parting sigh, still struggles at my heart!
Ha! look not so upon me! Is it thus
Our intercourse must end? our radiant morn
Of love, and hope, and youth, and tender joy,
Shadow'd by sorrow, and convuls'd with storms!—
Go to thy splendid home, thy friends await thee;
Death is preparing in the silent tomb
A lonely bed, where I shall sleep at peace.

[Exit.
Alferenzi.
Now in yon cave will I conceal this corse;
And then, O God! teach me to hide myself
From my own knowledge! Busy, busy thought,
Away, and let oblivion be thy grave!

[He advances towards the body; the scene closes.