University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE—An Apartment in Raymond's Castle.
Guise and Lord Admiral.
LORD ADMIRAL.
By all we wish, my Lord, your boasted arts
Have weigh'd us down. The King decrees the height
Of power and favour to the haughty Raymond.
Distraction, death! mild as the April eve
Soon shall the tempest of his dreadful rage
Gently subside; and we fallen, fallen low—

GUISE.
When Bourbon drove your proud superior host
In headlong rout before him; when brave Raymond,
With but a van-guard on Marseilles torn walls
Stopt the fierce torrent of his forward course;
Then were we placed on ruin's giddy brink;
Yet shall my arts to firmest ground restore us.
Such giddy madness shall my arts inspire,
That not three little days on power's high column
Shall Raymond stand. You to the King, my Lord.
My spouse, why thus distress'd, my fair Eemoine?
[Exit Ld. Admiral.
Enter Eemoine.
Why these sad dubious looks?

EEMOINE.
Alas, my Guise—

GUISE.
'Tis thus the fearful, trembling with distrust,
Unfit to snatch her gifts, turn fortune from them.
The bold command her favours.

EEMOINE.
Gracious powers!
What am I doing? Where will these plots end?
I told Count Raymond how severely struck,
By his fierce eyes, his faithful Countess lay
In death-like swoonings at the neighbouring convent,
And by his wishes for her life, adjured him
Not to intrude again till I had soothed her.
And have my lips, by thee instructed, Guise,
Utter'd dark falsehood—Horrid is the darkness
Where treachery dwells, where every glympse of light
Is dreadful as the thunder flash—

GUISE.
Hail blessed Saint!
O well these passions suit the cloyster's cells.
Thus when the holy sisters chant their Vespers
Beneath the dark ailed Abbey's gloomy roofs,
What time the grass-grown creviced window pours
The sullen evening's melancholy rays
O'er the surrounding tombs; there, fitting place,
There shall you chant these holy notes, till age
Furrow these blooming cheeks with sallow wrinkles,
The church-yard ravens on the blasted elms
Nightly responsive to the holy song!

EEMOINE.
Oh good, my Lord, forbear the dreadful prospect!
My life blood freezes—

GUISE.
Dreadful tho' it be
To youth and beauty form'd like thine to shine
Amid the world's applause and courtly splendor;
Yet, if perversely you reject my wish
That springs from love, and fondly hopes to save you
From living burial in a cloyster's walls,
A cloyster's dismal haunts must waft your sighs
On every evening gale.

EEMOINE.
And must your love
Be purchased with the crimes of treachery?
Oh heaven, where am I tost!

GUISE.
You talk of crimes;
I offer virtues; but you want ambition.
'Tis the peculiar virtue taught in courts
To serve a stubborn friend by kind deceit.
Such the deceit that to the court would bring
The sullen Raymond's Countess.
—All the grandeur
By Bourbon lost shall soon be worn by Raymond,
His jealousy and love are both to madness.
If still Erminia in these castle walls
Remain the prisoner of his jealous love,
What friend shall with the potent Raymond plead
For falling Guise—Your tongue has utter'd falsehood.
Now to retreat—

EEMOINE.
The world would curse that falsehood,
That dark unfinish'd kindness. To complete it,
The world shall praise the boldness of my friendship
Erminia shall be taught to vindicate
The generous freedom which is now denied her.
Trust me, my Lord, I'll fan each secret wish
That to herself unknown aspires to grandeur.
The spark shall flame—

GUISE.
By all our hopes and loves—
[Ex. Guise

EEMOINE.
Ay, by my hopes! you said, I want ambition:
'Tis now awake, and you shall mark its powers.
Thy patrimony, Guise, requires the mines
Of place and power to give the splendid pomp
Which I aspire to—These shall be my gift,
The noble dowry which my art shall bring.

[Exit.
SCENE—An Apartment in the Castle.
Erminia and Eemoine.
ERMINIA.
Music in vain has pour'd its sweetest charms;
In vain to me. The bland tranquillity
That oft has wrapt me in its downy bosom,
When but some shepherd tun'd the rustic lay
Came not as wont; and melody but rais'd
My struggling passions. What a dreadful war
Tears my tempested bosom! Raymond's hatred,
Loftily dreadful and ungenerous,
Fires my resentment; when a sickly horror
Freezes my heart—Ah, once my Raymond lov'd me!
Once loved me!—What a painful weight of anguish
This struggle to repay his scorn with scorn
Pours o'er my spirits. Tell me where, Eemoine,
Where is my husband—

EEMOINE.
I have seen stern Raymond.
I trembled to behold his writhing lip,
And fierce red eye, that as it roll'd shot gleams
Of purple lightning. Some dread purpose fills him.
I hear'd him mutter death, revenge, and honour.

ERMINIA.
Oh Heaven, befriend me—I have waked his rage;
Where will it end!

EEMOINE.
And would you tamely stoop
To his wild tyranny—Forbid it honour.
The honour of the King forbids it, Lady;
No dark revenge, no deed of jealous madness,
For wrongs ne'er given, shall mark the day with horror,
The day when generous Francis with his presence
Honour'd stern Raymond's castle.

ERMINIA.
Bounteous heaven,
Oh seal these words! But slow and unresolved
Appear'd the King, when I implor'd forgiveness
For Raymond's headlong rage.

EEMOINE.
Yet, fear not, Lady;
The generous love a generous confidence;
Aught less is insult where we hope for friendship.
Give to the Monarch then the welcome care
To soothe your husband, and to make your blest.
Bourbon's high office courts the haughty Raymond;
His rage alone delays his lofty grandeur.
Two various fortunes, Lady, wait before you:
One in this lonely castle to wear out
Your cheerless years; this night's wild jealousy
Ever in your husband's mind, and you a prisoner
Under severest watch; and visited,
Perhaps one day in many a lonely month,
By your stern husband, when the toils of state
Allow the hurried respite; or, perhaps
When old affection wakes; for beauty reigns
At Fountainbleau in all its various features—
Ah, why that sudden paleness o'er these cheeks!
Assume the generous independence, Madam,
Your noble birth's due right; and Fountainbleau
Offers thee all its joys, and crown of all,
Lasting security of independence.
To-night these various fortunes are thy vassals,
Which to reject or choose—But ah, to-morrow
They wait thy will no more—

ERMINIA.
My heart to Raymond
Was open as the noon-day face of heaven:
No dark recess was from his eye conceal'd.
But Raymond's love, ev'n in its sofest hours,
Like his proud eye, wore something awful.—Man,
Stern lordly man, never in perfect union,
Joins his superior heart with humbler woman,
Though all her heart's affections worship him.
The wives of other peers have liberty.
For what dark cause am I alone excluded
From the fair paradise of Fountainbleau?
Why am I here forbidden to behold
The face of stranger!

EEMOINE.
Let the dark veil'd cause
Dare the bold light, tho' wrapt in gloomy silence;
That speechless cause must waken in the heart
Such unform'd thoughts as ne'er can sleep with peace.

ERMINIA.
That gloomy cause shall dare the light, Eemoine.
Alas, with smiles I met him; all my heart
Melting and glowing for the mutual smiles
That mingle on the looks of dear affection.
But he felt other passions; from my arms
Half open'd, from my smiles he started back
In rage and horror.

EEMOINE.
And again that rage,
As the black thunder cloud, will burst upon you
Its gather'd storm. Ah hapless Lady, hear me:
Thy honour, happiness, and reconcilement,
The King's protection can alone secure.
Then trust the generous Monarch—

ERMINIA.
Ah, were thy words cloth'd in an unseen substance!
I felt them touch my soul with icy finger;
My heart bleeds at the touch: my heart remembers
Th' unmeasur'd fulness of the confidence
With which, in all its griefs, it fled to Raymond.
And shall I, from Raymond, to another
Fly for protection! No—I cannot, cannot.
Though doubled rage burn in his looks, to him,
To him alone my heart feels its attraction.
Yes, in his presence the soft sleep of death
Shall gently shed its dimness o'er the frowns
That kill me; and his pity-melted eyes
O'er my cold ashes yet shall shed the tear—

EEMOINE.
Ah think you, Lady, how the siner spirits
Are torn and fever'd by the violence
Of love, of grief, and fear, like your's, unbounded.
Imagination then in wildest transport
Is all alive; but reason sleeps the while.
Would you to Raymond, and beneath his sword
Die in a fine delirium, and consign him
To everlasting woe! your love to Raymond
Did reason guide, would fly him, till his Sovereign
Soothe his mistaken pride, and lift him up
To highest power and grandeur.

ERMINIA.
Oh Eemoine,
Pity my troubled mind! my soul indeed
Is sick and fever'd—

Enter the King.
KING.
Gracious heav'n, and shall
That lovely bosom bleed! No, by my knighthood!
Each courtly honour shall be heap'd on Raymond
For your sake, Lady—all, except the throne,
Shall fill his wish.

ERMINIA.
Ah me, what gratitude
I owe—Yet now, O leave me to my tears,
And heaven, a while!

KING.
Leave thee to tears—to all
The sovereign joys of empire I decree
Thy future hours, if these sad tears prevent not.
A nobler love, than ever glow'd in shades,
And lonely bowers, shall bless thy future days.

Enter Guise.
GUISE.
Tidings, my Liege,
The fleet of England rides before the coast
Of Normandy.

KING.
Curst be thy ill tim'd message.
Find the Lord Admiral, Guise. One moment, Lady.

[Ex. King and Guise.
ERMINIA.
Raymond forgiven, and rais'd to highest honour!
The sudden joy o'erpowers me. Much I owe
The generous Monarch.

EEMOINE.
Thus at Fountainbleau
Still happier than the last each day shall rise.

Enter Lord Admiral and Guise.
LORD ADMIRAL.
Though France beholds us high in royal favour,
High in the state, to your protection, Lady,
We recommend ourselves.

ERMINIA.
How you amaze me!

LORD ADMIRAL.
Smile when you name us, and our power is fixt,
Our gratitude unbounded.

GUISE.
Other danger
Than of your frown the hoary statesman fears not.

[Exeunt Ld. Admiral and Guise.
Enter an Old Officer.
OFFICER.
To beauty half assur'd of fair success,
The soldier sues. Forty cold falling harvests
Have seen me in the field, and forty summers
Have scorch'd this silver'd head in camps and marches.
But now, ah Madam, this big heart refuses
To tell what now I feel—old and neglected;
The base mechanic, at his smoky forge,
Eyes me with scorn, and boasts an independence
Unknown to me. My heart, my soul, is sick
With hoping for redress.

ERMINIA.
Alas, could I command,
Your griefs should yet be heal'd,

OFFICER.
Our generous Monarch
Needs but to hear my tale; and should my sorrows
Melt on your lips—Ah heaven—

ERMINIA.
I will repeat them,
Good, brave old man, I will.—

OFFICER.
Oh happy France,
Whose court can boast an interceding angel?

[Ex. Officer.
ERMINIA.
Are we alone, Eemoine? How my heart
Flutters amid this group of crowding joys,
So new it scarcely knows them; oft, when wandering
Our lonely meadows, has the languid sigh
Heav'd my dull bosom, while my thoughts would whisper
How sweet it were t' assume the dignity
Of courtly rank.

EEMOINE.
The nestling eagle thus,
'Ere yet his pinions serve him, longs to soar
To the bright sun.

ERMINIA.
And can I still remain insensible,
Deaf or unmov'd to hear ev'n reverend office
Sue for protection, and to see pale sorrow
Turning for help as to a guardian angel!
And to bestow that help! Oh these be joys
That never enter'd in my lone retirements.
Yet should my Raymond still averse—

EEMOINE.
The King
Will bend thy Raymond's will beneath the load
Of highest favours, if thy keen impatience
To see him, 'ere his rage be sooth'd, prevent not.
The ladies and the peers, the courtly train,
Who grace to-night's festivity, will blame
Our ill timed absence, Madam—

ERMINIA.
Well, let us honour them.—But, O sweet heaven,
What sudden bodings, cold and imageless,
Glide thro' my breast!

[Exeunt.
SCENE—The Chapel.
RAYMOND.
Either my mind has lost its energy,
Or the unbodied spirits of my fathers,
Beneath this night's dark wings, pass to and fro,
In doleful agitation, hovering round me.
Methought my father, with a mournful look,
Beheld me.—Sudden from an unconscious pause
I wak'd, and but his marble bust was here.
Woman, thou slave of gaudy vanity,
What trifles win thee! O had heaven but made thee
Constant as lovely—

Enter Ronsard.
RONSARD.
Where the mind, my Lord,
Seeks its own woe, that woe will ever come.
And ev'n blank nothingness, when brooded o'er
By its creative power, will teem with sorrow.
Twice to the spouse of Guise you hurried me.
Again she comes t'upbraid your causeless fears.

Enter Eemoine.
EEMOINE.
Your causeless rage, my Lord, will be the herald
Of death to your Erminia—Your frown
Once more were instant death.

RAYMOND.
Oh heav'n, and has my rash unbridled rage
Thus torn the gentlest bosom while it glow'd
With love and me.—Oh 'twas foul sacrilege;
Yet 'twas the untam'd force of love that fir'd me.
Ay, and I know the King—Good heaven! and has my frown
Thus torn her heart? Bring me, Eemoine, to her,
And I, with vows, will beg my faults forgiveness.
Haste, instant bring me to her.—What, refuse me!

EEMOINE.
My Lord, you cannot see her in the convent.

RAYMOND.
Not see her! not the grave shall hide her from me.
In this I will be heard. The plunderer,
For dread of whom, in these lone shades, I ween'd
To hide her from the world—that cruel plunderer
Is now beneath my roof. Haste, bring me to her.
'Twas not on her I frown'd: 'Tis more than cruel
To misinterpret thus my honest passion.

EEMOINE.
Deeply, my Lord, your generous pain affects me;
But if you love your sad Erminia, tarry
Till I prepare her.—Be assur'd your fears
Are all in vain. Expect me soon, my Lord.
[Ex. Eemoine

RAYMOND.
O speed thee on the wings of generous friendship.
Enter Lord Admiral.
Ha! hast thou found me here?

LORD ADMIRAL.
The sullen gloom
Of this sepulchral haunt but ill becomes
The heir of Bourbon's grandeur. Gallant Raymond,
I hail you Lord Constable of France.

RAYMOND.
'Tis now blind midnight—

LORD ADMIRAL.
Much the King esteems you.—

RAYMOND.
And the Adulterers softly steal along,
Shunning the moon's chaste beam.—

LORD ADMIRAL.
My Lord High Constable—

RAYMOND.
That is not me.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Not you, brave Raymond! 'tis to your Sovereign's pleasure,
Do you accept it then and thank his Grace?

RAYMOND.
Is that indeed all the return he hopes!
Ha, what surpris'd—Ah, thou know'st more than I do

Enter Bramville.
LORD ADMIRAL.
Here comes your friend, my Lord, his riper counsel
May yet prevail.

Ld. Admiral offering to speak, then exit.
RAYMOND.
No more—Farewel—
—And to my peace farewel.
Oh, torture of suspence! One smiling moment,
The clouds that blacken o'er my nuptial shrine
Disperse, and instant with a darker frown
They lower again—
Oh, my Erminia, where thy wonted love
That oft has sped thee fondly to my arms,
'Ere from the chace my foot has left the stirrup;
Now, now thou sleest me.—

BRAMVILLE.
Heavens, good my Lord,
Is this the time to act the fearful lover,
Pensive and idle while your prostrate country
Demands the vigour of your arm?—Away
This pining jealousy! Our Monarch's crown
Now totters on his head, and you can save him.

RAYMOND.
Had you a bride so flush'd with every charm,
And did you love her to idolatry,
You could not leave her on the giddy brink
Where but one step and she is lost for ever.
The King—Can I be blind to his dark purpose?
And shall I fight his battles, oh distraction!
While he ascends my bed?

BRAMVILLE.
Disdain, my Lord,
The ungenerous thought: Erminia's virtue sullied!
Never, my Lord—and shall you sheath your sword
Tho' Bourbon's fate hangs on it?

RAYMOND,
This ill-omen'd revelry
Has sheath'd my sword, and France will bleed for this.
Alas, my country!

RONSARD.
Bourbon's stratagem
Of mimick'd flight is, by the festive King,
Scorn'd, disregarded. But from his wild riot
Bourbon will rouse him soon. Then France is conquer'd.
By the pale dawn the thunder of his battle
Will give new music to the dancer's whirls.
The hour in which your arm would save your country,
That sacred hour, now, like an idle tale,
Passes away; 'tis gone—

RAYMOND.
No; yet I'll seize it.
The sacred treasure of my wedded love
Is heaven's own care.

BRAMVILLE.
Erminia's virtue tainted!
Impossible.—Gods, had I your green youth—

RAYMOND.
The King shall on the instant know his danger.
Let me command, and Bourbon's stratagem
Shall whelm himself in ruin. Oh, to-morrow.
Shall shine a glorious day! to-morrow noon
The Emperor Charles shall see his laurels wither'd.
My soul is up in arms to save my country,
And on the instant I will have an audience.

[Exeunt.
SCENE—An Apartment in the Castle.
The King, Lord Admiral, and Erminia.
LORD ADMIRAL.
Indeed, my Liege, with proud contempt he spurn'd
The royal favour, and with stern command
Impos'd upon me silence.

ERMINIA.
Oh, my Liege,
By Heaven's sweet mercy—

LORD ADMIRAL.
When the Sovereign stands
On unseen danger's brink, he's the best subject
Who boldly dares, tho' with a voice unwelcome,
To rouse him from his blind security.
My Liege, while furious Raymond is unchain'd,
Your nation's happiness, your sacred life.—

ERMINIA.
By Heaven's eternal truth, the faithful Raymond
Would die to save his monarch. Let his victories,
O let the wounds which mark his faithful breast
In this unhappy moment, plead forgiveness!

KING.
The duty to myself I owe, forgives him;
But that dread care I owe my nation, cannot.

ERMINIA.
Then welcome death—

[sinks down on the couch.
KING.
He must not yet be seiz'd.
[to the Ld. Admiral who retires.
Again the roses to her cheeks return.

[placing himself by her.
Enter at a distance, Raymond, Bramville and Ronsard.
RAYMOND.
And is it thus?—O mighty God—

BRAMVILLE.
Soft, burst not in; yet hear,
Her faith may yet shine glorious

KING.
Thus in his tent, beneath the fragrant shades
Of Lebanon, while thro' the list'ning wood
The turtle's voice was heard, the sapient King
Attain'd the summit of his rapt'rous love.

ERMINIA
recovering.
His love—forget not what you vow'd; his rage
Is terrible—Alas! I am no Roman.

BRAMVILLE.
O yet, my Lord—

[Ray. offering to draw, prevented by Bram.
KING.
Nor in magnificence
To dazzle round my fair, nor in the warmth
Of Love's exalted passion, will I yield
To Judah's monarch—

ERMINIA.
Oh! my Liege remember
What Honour's voice inspires, when helpless woman
Implores and pleads the sacredness of promise.

RAYMOND.
She yields, oh hell, with hearty choice! she yields.
[to Bramville.
Your hand, my Lord—cold horror weakens me.

KING.
To-night his rage is dreadful; but to-morrow,
For your sake, Lady, all, except the throne,
Shall soothe his better mind; and should he still
Rage on in madness, yet secure protection
Shall ever smile around you.

RAYMOND
advancing.
Am I sold then?
But cursed be the terms: thy throne, proud Tyrant,
Were but a gilded toy if given to bribe
My soul's affection, and with scorn rejected.
Yet feed, she wolf, feed on to loathing surfeit.
[to Erminia, who swoons.
O burning indignation prop me! save me—

KING.
Proud peer, your duty to your Prince remember.

RONSARD.
Heavens, 'twas an Angel's fall—

[As Raymond, Bramville, &c. retire.
BRAMVILLE.
Astonishment
Hardens my joints; Oh hence unhappy Raymond.

[Exeunt.
SCENE—Another Apartment.
Raymond, Ronsard, and Bramville enter.
RONSARD.
Alas, brave Count—

RAYMOND.
Methinks the solid earth
Trembles beneath me; yes, let earthquakes yawn,
And in the dark abyss ingulf mankind.
And am I, am I then that dreadful tyrant
'Gainst whom she calmly stipulates protection?
Oh lost Erminia!
Oh for the heat of madness to possess me,
While I tore off, and trampled on the ensigns
Of service to the man who has for ever
Murder'd my peace!—Then thus, and thus—yet prostrate
[tearing his sash.
My country lies. Ah heaven, and could I save her!
Oh dreadful—But for whom, for whom to save her?
For him whose raging lust—
Oh sacred nature, be thy untaught impulse
My only law, my peace thy pious fury.

Enter Guise.
GUISE.
Such storm of rage, my Lord, ill fits the duty
You owe your royal guest.

RAYMOND.
Does this disturb him!
Thinks he to slumber on my nuptial couch!
Amidst his wanton revels he shall know
My honour, and my wrongs shall yet have vengeance.
Bourbon will soon revenge me.—I have seen—
Oh Heaven, had rather Hell's deep gulph before me
Open'd its horrors!

GUISE.
Yet may time, my Lord—
'Tis true your Monarch acts the happy lover.
Yet time, my Lord—

RAYMOND.
And dar'st thou thus insult me,
Wrong'd as I am—But this shall quit thy services

[draws his sword.
GUISE.
O good, my Lord—

RAYMOND.
Defend thy heart.

GUISE.
Hither, this instant seize him—

[calling in soldiers, after whom enter Ld. Adm.
RAYMOND.
Dare you your general's frown!
—At distance, varlets.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Not yet, my Lord—I bring the King's command,
Let him retire.

RAYMOND
to GUISE.
And thou pale dastard, live
Some little hours, then curse thyself and die.

BRAMVILLE.
Oh villany behold thy horrid triumphs!
With noble Raymond falls my country too.

[Ex. Raymond, Ronsard, and Bramville.
GUISE.
Now are my hopes of Raymond's wild blind honour,
And headlong rage, accomplish'd; trust me, Lord Admiral,
The tales we told him of his lov'd Erminia
Sicken'd his pride of grandeur. But when now
Boldly he threatens that the traytor Bourbon
Shall soon revenge his wrongs; now to dismiss him—

LORD ADMIRAL.
Francis, my Lord, would e'en resign his crown
To win the shy bewitching fair one's smile;
And were her Raymond seiz'd, and she to hear it,
Her instant death he deems the consequence.
The King thus wills a splendid train to-morrow,
Soon as the dawn, o'er these wide dales shall rouse
The slumbering deer, Erminia must be won
To join the band; a feign'd alarm of danger
From Bourbon shall afford the apology,
Kindly to bear her off to Fountainbleau.
Then shall proud Raymond meet the traytor's fate.
Eemoine's aid, my Lord—

GUISE.
Shall seal our purpose,
Tho' now Erminia's gentle love to Raymond
Be all live tenderness, yet she is woman.

[Exeunt.
SCENE—An Aparment in the Castle.
Erminia reclined on a Sopha, Eemoine.
ERMINIA.
The gentle ministers of Heaven's blest care
Have left me; and an unform'd load of horror
Spreads an inactive darkness o'er my soul.
What dreadful madness fires thee, O my Raymond?

EEMOINE.
Unseen, just now I mark'd his fierce demeanour;
'Tis madness tears him: A wild mutiny
Tempests his bosom; now in dreadful pause
His thoughts seem lost; then springing suddenly
He stamps the ground; then jealously casts round
His burning eyes, as if he fear'd his thoughts
Were listen'd to; then snatches at his sword,
And mutters vengeance for his wounded honour.

ERMINIA.
I am the victim, and will meet his rage—
My evil dæmon sent him in the moment,
The only hapless moment of my life
That ever wish'd, or could have thank'd the care
Of explication—Oh just Heav'n, fulfil
The last poor hope that to my heart remains!
Give me some moments speech, while cold death trembles
On my pale lips.

Enter the King.
KING.
Why thus, oh gentlest Lady,
Why thus in love with deepest wretchedness?
Bold is the pride, and lofty the ambition,
Of Raymond's soul: these shall be satisfied;
Let but a few short days restore his reason.

ERMINIA.
Your goodness flies before my boldest wish,
Accept my gratitude; 'tis all—

KING.
How blest were I
Could every wish this bosom heaves for you
Succeed so well, you should be more than happy.
Ah, need I tell—Have not my eyes ere now
Told you I love.

ERMINIA.
Good heaven, what did I hear!
Forbear, repeat it not.

[Erminia retiring.
KING.
Forbear to love you!
Impossible—and have I then—alas!

ERMINIA.
Oh gentle Peace, where shall I fly to find thee!
Yet let me fly from danger; where, Eemoine,
Where hast thou fled?

KING.
Yet hear, my lovely charmer.
Oh heaven restrain my ardour of affection!
Boundless it rises, boundless as the charms
Of its dear goddess—Have you now forgot
You talk'd of gratitude? then view me, Lady,
As your protector. Ah, what transport this!

[Embracing her.
ERMINIA.
Ha, hence, presume not. Anguish so distracts me,
I heard not what you said. Where, are my attendants?
Have I said ought? if ought to give you hope?
Oh Heaven I knew it not.

KING.
Never, O thou fairest,
Did beauty's sweet enchantment thus possess me:
I am all eye to dwell on these thy charms,
All heart to feel their power.

ERMINIA.
Oh Raymond, Raymond!
Ev'n my soul weeps to think how I ungenerous
Have wrong'd thy fond affection's pious care.
Ah now I see, and bitterly I mourn,
The secret cause thy gentle delicacy
Would ne'er reveal, why thou detainest me here
Far from the courtly walks of Fountainbleau,
Too well thou knewest—Oh, whither are ye fled,
Ye pitying Angels!

KING.
Angels of love surround you.
Ah kill me not with these forbidding frowns.
Yes, I'll presume to name a monarch's grandeur,
And offer all my kingdom's lofty pomp.

ERMINIA.
Forbear, nor dare to offer the pollution
Ev'n of your touch again. Unfavouring Heaven,
I deem'd, had given me more than female weakness.
Now I behold what arts are try'd to tear me
From my poor Raymond's dear affection—now,
Now I'm a Roman, and demand you give me
My injur'd husband. O'er his dreadful mien
Soon shall my tale restore the smiles of joy.

KING.
Confusion, ruin to my hopes—Ah, Madam,
For daring actions but some moments old,
To you unknown, the state demands his blood:
And ponder this, I, I alone can save him.

ERMINIA.
Your impious passion asks the blood of Raymond;
But France demands his gallant sword to save her.
Your wish now known, no more I am a supplian
By that which dearer than his life he holds.
My wedded faith, his life shall ne'er be purchas'd.
If stript of these his fair domains, and banish'd
His native land, his virtue still will give him
Sweeter repose than ever tyrant knew;
But if his blood must stain the guilty scaffold,
Eternal infamy shall blot the memory
Of generous Francis, and the latest ages
Shall view the shining virtues which emblaze
His boasted name as but the rays of tinsel.
In generous glow of mind, which cost him nothing,
He was a heroe; but when selfish passion
Whisper'd its tyrant claim, the basest slave
Ne'er sacrificed his neighbour's happiness
With more stone-hearted colder cruelty.
Such will the heart that warms in honour's cause
In latest times pronounce thee.

KING.
Gentle Lady,
Though thus you wound my honour, by my sceptre,
My kingdom's welfare touches not my heart
With such an earnest zealous care as yours.
O give me then the power, and thou and Raymond
Shall yet be happy.

ERMINIA.
Firmly I demand
The duteous justice which the Heaven's dread sovereign
Exacts from proudest kings. Dark fraud, and art
Of soulest stain, alone have fix'd on Raymond,
What lightest colour of offence he bears.

KING.
My Honour to thy arms shall give thy Raymond.
O yet believe thy happiness inspires
My dearest wish—

[Exit.
ERMINIA.
O Raymond, how my heart
Bleeds o'er thy wrongs!—But Heaven now gives me courage,
And I will vindicate thy injur'd honour.

[Exit