University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE—A Thicket in a Wood near the mouth of a Cave.
Raymond and Bramville,
RAYMOND.
Here Ronsard was to meet us—What a horror
Coldly glides through me! like a lurking felon
Must I approach my castle, while the robbers
Revel within—Oh parent Heaven, how awful
What now I feel! That solemn pleasing dread
Unspeakable! the grave's chill invitation
Sent to the good man's heart when verging on it.
That unnam'd touch, which man, ordain'd to live,
Did never feel, now thrills me: and inspiring
A drear affection for the darksome gulph,
Whose shore was never seen by human eye,
Shews smiling peace prepar'd to waft me through.

BRAMVILLE.
When Grief's hot fever has burn'd out its rage
Comes Melancholy, and with gentle hand
Throws a soft slumber o'er the wearied passions;
And then, while Reason sleeps, bending the vigour
Of manly action down, thro' mournful shades
Of listless pleasing woe, she impious leads
The dreamful fancy.—Thus, my Lord, she leads you;
The touch you feel is Melancholy's soothing:
But rouse your nobler temper to the deeds
Your honour and your wrongs impose upon you.

RAYMOND.
Yes, I will rouse me—Hark! the sounds of tumult
Struggle on the forest's edge—

BRAMVILLE.
Bourbon, I deem,
Disturbs the Tyrant's revels; and on speed
Comes Ronsard—

Enter Ronsard.
RONSARD.
Deeper to the Cave, my Lord,
Let us retire—

RAYMOND.
Say, where my joyful Traitress?

RONSARD.
Just when I mark'd her party, and the route,
The hounds pursued, the shout of Bourbon's army
Echo'd along the dales, and his bold van
Gave their first thunder. Instant o'er the downs,
Raging as burning Hercules, the King
Led forth his trembling Host. In wild dismay
The hunters fled, some to the Castle, some
Plung'd into the wood—

RAYMOND.
Oh Heaven, and is my vengeance,
And thy dread justice, yet again delay'd!

RONSARD.
Erminia's party to the Castle sped:
There may we seize her. Let one little hour
But half expire, then will the battle rage
In its full strength; then may our purpose fear
Wayward delay no more—

BRAMVILLE.
Hah, 'tis the sound
Of horsemen rushing through the neighbouring glades;
Retire, my Lord; a price is on your blood.
'Ere to full meeting flame the battle rise,
I'll arm your faithful servants to assist
Our honour's cause—

RAYMOND.
Oh speed thee—
[Ex. Bramville.
—Here to lurk;
Here watch the time, to poignard that fair bosom
Where yesterday my soul was all enshrined!
Dreadful necessity! O living horror!
Good Heaven, couldst thou restore me yesterday!

[Ex. Raym. and Rons. into the Cave.
SCENE—A Lawn on the Edge of a Forest.
An Encampment at a distance.
Enter the King, followed by the Lord Admiral, and other Attendants.
KING.
Distraction, fury! blinded by my passion,
I have disgraced the warlike name, have suffer'd
The rebel to surprise me. Oh dishonour!
Yet shall both traitors mourn; the traitor Raymond,
So fame reports, commands proud Bourbon's right,
And drives our mercenary troops before him,
Who tremble at his name—

GUISE.
To seize his castle,
Doubt not he deems, and bear away the Countess—

KING.
The goddess of my heart! Heavens, if I yield her,
May Bourbon triumph!—Lord Admiral, thy battalion
Shall reinforce my Guise to guard the fair one,
For whom my crown now trembles on my head.

GUISE.
Be confident; our zeal shall be successful.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Oh to the field, my Liege—

KING.
Yes; there the astonish'd dastards
Require my rage to fire them—
Oh Raymond, had I now a General
As brave, as honest!—Heavens, am I thus reduced?
No; this is mine—
[drawing his sword.
—to this I'll trust my kingdoms.

GUISE.
And wonted victory attend that sword!

[Ex. King.
LORD ADMIRAL.
Now, now, my Lord, our power expires or triumphs;
Our hope's sole anchor is not yet secur'd:
The wayward Fair One means to fly the King:
Haste, search these wild wood thickets, and secure her;
The Castle be my care.

GUISE.
To search the forest
Were now to lose her: every moment seems
A long slow hour till my Eemoine's page
Tell where she hides or flies—O frowning Heaven!
And shall the stern-brow'd Raymond yet again
Enter these walls in triumph, and exact
His great revenge!

LORD ADMIRAL.
No; he shall gnaw the dust
Beneath the meanest spear of my Battalion
'Ere there he triumph. Instant, O my Lord!
Plant round these wild wood glades thy trustiest bands
And give her wish'd escape its doom'd defiance.

[Exeunt severally.
SCENE—A deep gloomy Thicket.
Erminia, Eemoine, a Page and other Attendants.
ERMINIA.
You told me, Bramville was to meet me here:
Alas, he comes not!—Of my innocence,
You said, you told him, how with tears of joy
He heard the tale. Alas! his faithful steps
Never, till now, thus linger'd—

EEMOINE.
Patience, Lady,
Is Heaven's own balm—

ERMINIA.
Oh fly, ye gloomy hours! what boding darkness
Rests on these moments—

EEMOINE.
'Tis the busy working
Of Fear's keen lively sense that leads your thoughts
Through waking dreams, where jealous terror shifts
The dim illusive scenery.

ERMINIA.
Fear and terror
Become my lorn condition well—Ere yet
The matin bell has toll'd its holy summons,
The impious Tyrant may perhaps for ever
Divorce the noble Raymond from my arms.
Oh Heaven protect him from my loath'd betrayers!
Oh give me back my Husband—

EEMOINE.
Utmost prudence, Lady,
Becomes us now: Bramville will soon relieve
Thy load of woes. Again I'll urge his coming.
[She dismisses the Page.
O yield not thus to unavailing passion!
Alas, a fever of the sickly mind
O'erpowers thee, Lady! hear thy weeping friend,
Yield me the poignard.

ERMINIA.
Yield my Honor's safeguard!
No; by my wrongs—

EEMOINE.
Oh Heaven, bethink thee, Lady,
What vain repentance may for ever weep
O'er one rash moment.

ERMINIA.
Yes; no vain repentance
Shall weep my honour's stain; with impious rage
The Tyrant burns; but this, perhaps, shall change
The fatal object that impassions him
Into a form of horror; or perhaps,
So guide me Heaven,—shall reek in his hot breast.
This, this were worthy gallant Raymond's spouse,
And not a coward's flight—
A coward's flight, thro' self-given death, but ill
Becomes the mind that feels its dignity
In vigorous health, and smiles upon itself.
And mine with joy reviews each wish, each thought,
That ere lived here—

[Concealing a dagger.
EEMOINE.
While Bramville tarries, Lady,
Yon shepherd's bower, where o'er the verdant bank
The roses and the woodbine emulate
The pinks and cowslips of the floor below;
Yon bower invites us to its safe retreat.

ERMINIA.
Oh Bramville, Bramville, speed thee!—this delay
[they retire.
Ill suits that generous friendly warmth which marks
Thy hoary age—

[the scene closes.
SCENE—A Glade in a Wood.
Enter Raymond, Bramville, and armed Peasants.
BRAMVILLE.
Your faithful servants offer
Their lives, my Lord, to give your wish success.
This is the moment: On the field the King
Now greets the foe with dreadful salutation.

RAYMOND.
Then on my friends—Good heaven, why shake my knees
With sudden faltering! Why this chilly tremor!
That never seiz'd me in the eve of battle!
Oh judge not you, who never felt my passion;
Ye leaden-hearted Herd, whose cold base temper
Takes no impression but of sordid stamp,
Judge not my feelings—Oh Erminia!
Go I to murder thee!—Oh horror! horror!
Yet Heaven's own justice fires me.

Enter Ronsard in haste.
RONSARD.
Not, my Lord.
Not to the Castle—In a flowery arbour,
By yonder glade, the sylvan Goddess rests
Her wearied limbs—

RAYMOND.
Waiting her paramour
When crown'd with victory. Eternal justice!
This, this is thy tremendous hour—
—On, on my friends!
Dark are the paths of Fate; but, led by honour,
Firm is our footing, and our peace secure.

RONSARD.
Now, now, my Lord, that life you bravely sav'd
When I was down in battle, when you rush'd
Between me and the lifted pole-ax, now
That life shall serve you—

[Exeunt.
SCENE—Woodland Glades.
Enter Raymond and Bramville.
RAYMOND.
Here wide the prospect opens. Ronsard watches
The other glade—Here rests my Traitress—Leave me
To this dread scene—

BRAMVILLE.
Gladly, I turn, my Lord,
From such sad view—O gracious Heaven prevent
What e'er offends thee—
[Ex. Bramville.

RAYMOND.
Ah, whence this sudden gloom which shoots athwart
The conscious forest! As if wailing ghosts
Were gliding thro' the trembling leaves, the sigh
Glides sullen on. 'Tis Nature's conscious horror
When the stern robber holds his impious feast,
Bought with the wretchedness of innocence.
Oh cruel Francis, what unfeeling heart
Rages in thy dark bosom! Oh inhuman,
Hast thou no pang that whispers what I feel!
Canst thou sit down and grossly feast thy appetite,
Whilst the just Master of the plunder'd banquet
Stabb'd by thy knife, lay bleeding in thy sight!
Oh heaven, I could not do it—but thou stern Tyrant—
[He turns and sees Erminia at some distance.
Ha, now horror steels me.

[Ex. and immediately re-enters. Another Woodland scene. Erminia in view and Eemoine.
ERMINIA.
How long, ah me, his tardy steps delay!

RAYMOND.
And longs she thus to meet him! Burning Hell,
What other torment hast thou yet to strike me?

ERMINIA.
Saw'st thou stray thro' these shades—

RAYMOND.
Saw'st thou! saw whom!
The King! And dar'st thou ask thy injur'd Husband.

[throwing his Peasant's cloak aside, Eemoine retires, Raymond brandishes his sword.
ERMINIA.
Oh save me Heaven, my Lord—

[going to embrace him.
RAYMOND.
Cruel apostate—
Away these Woman's arts—Thou, thou has damn'd
My frantic soul.

ERMINIA.
Oh yet, my Lord, yet hear me.

RAYMOND.
And darest thou think I'll leave thee in the bed
Of rank pollution—Pour your tears to heaven!
Let one short prayer—And horror brace my arm.

ERMINIA.
Oh, what thou wilt—Yet spare me till my tongue
Save thee from deepest woes, my injur'd Raymond.

RAYMOND.
Spare thee! for whom! for the Adulterer's arms!
No; by my wrongs—This for thy faithless heart.
[She faints.
Hah, do I grasp my Traitress! rousing vengeance
May now attone—Yet let me one dread moment
Contemplate that fair face, where once all Heaven
Open'd its smiles upon me—Ah, how woeful!
What energy of deepest penitence
[drops his sword.
Tells its severe distress in these pale features!
Yes; these are Virtue's looks, when generous Virtue
Bares her repenting bosom to the darts
Of terrible remorse—
How pure the innocence that once was thine!
That was, but is not now—And art thou now
My horror, freezing my blood at touch of thee.
O gracious powers, what anguish trembles there
On these pale lips of death! Yes; every feature
Speaks Innocence betray'd—Sure Angels wept
When thou—Oh fallen! Oh lost Erminia—
Yet wake and tell me—

[recovering.
ERMINIA.
Canst thou weep for me!
Oh generous Raymond, how was I betray'd!
Yet, oh forgive my ashes when the dust—
Yet, while I live, oh take, for pity snatch me
Far from my loath'd Betrayer's hateful arms

RAYMOND.
From thy loath'd Betrayer!

ERMINIA.
Yes; O witness Heaven!
I was betray'd to view thee as resolved
On my destruction, and that all your love
Was turn'd to raging hatred.

RAYMOND.
And, oh horror!
O'erwhelm thy speech, in Woman's blind revenge
Gave all—But turn your eyes to Heaven—

[he lifts and brandishes his sword.
ERMINIA.
Yet hear,
My Lord, my husband hear me; death will then,
If thou canst give it, death will then be all
My heart can wish—

RAYMOND.
Heaven's can I hope—O speak—

ERMINIA.
Oh couldst thou yet
Forgive, and love me.

RAYMOND.
Haste, speak, tho' thy words
Strike me with death.

ERMINIA.
'Twas on his promise safely to restore,
And reconcile me to you, I accompanied
The chace this morning.

RAYMOND.
Was the Villain's purpose
Then unaccomplish'd? Speak—

ERMINIA.
I was deceiv'd—

RAYMOND.
Oh Heaven—

ERMINIA.
Yet, yet, my Lord,
Yet hear: Oh Heaven bear witness how my soul
With sudden impulse trembled at the thought
When I perceiv'd his purpose.

RAYMOND.
Can I hope then!
Speak, and relieve me.

Enter Eemoine.
ERMINIA.
I hear the tumult
Of the King's train. O bear me hence, my Lord,
O pity me, and let not violence
Complete what all his art in vain essay'd.
O much have I to tell what arts they try'd
Yet all in vain—When I beheld their snares,
Stern tho' thy frown, my heart all raging vehemence
Burn'd thus to throw me in my Raymond's arms.

RAYMOND.
And art thou pure indeed!—O boundless rapture!
From hell's deep gulph methinks I spring to heaven!
Erminia spotless to my arms restored!

EEMOINE.
Yet fly not hence: As fiercest beasts of prey,
The cruel fugitives of either host
Pour round the forest edge—

ERMINIA.
O generous Raymond!
What rapturous burst of extacy o'erpowers thee
To hear my innocence! Yes; all thy rage
Was love; an endless theme of love thro' all
Our future smiling days.

RAYMOND.
Ah! what dire horrors
Have torn thy gentle breast—But why this dagger!

ERMINIA.
I left the chace in trust to fly to thee,
And lest the loath'd Betrayer might surprise me
This should perhaps have recompenc'd his crimes.
Now I resign it—

EEMOINE.
To my care—Ah madam—

[receives the dagger.
RAYMOND.
Oh my Erminia! this shall ever make
My love a generous debtor, with itself
Displeas'd, for never can its zeal repay
Thy matchless virtues.

ERMINIA.
O my Lord, my Lord—

Enter Guise and armed Attendants.
RAYMOND.
Detested villain—
[to Guise.
Oh for Heaven's dear sake.
At distance—
[to Erminia, held by Eemoine.
—Now this for thy treach'rous heart.

[to Guise, drawing his sword. Guise retires, Raymond followed by Ronsard, Bramville and men in arms pursue him and his party. Scene changes.
SCENE—Edge of the Wood, clashing of Swords.
Raymond enters pursuing Guise.
RAYMOND.
Now, now I have thee in the grasp of vengeance,
Lurking assassin!

GUISE.
Wilt thou stain thy sword,
O generous Raymond, in a heart that pants
With its last pangs? What, can thy boasted honour
Enjoy the cruel triumph o'er a wretch
Whose feeble arm, unstrung by death, can cope
With thine no more?

RAYMOND.
Oh, was it all too little,
All thou hast done, but when one gleam of hope
To tear my Countess from the Tyrant's arms
Shed the last beam of comfort on my soul,
That thou must also blot and trample down!
O stain of manhood! where are now thy ruffians,
Thy lurking murderers? But guard thee, villain.

GUISE.
Oh Fame, report it, how the mighty soul
Of noble Raymond, raging with the lust
Of groveling vengeance, gave his sword to mangle
The corse already shivering in the arms
Of swift approaching death. Oh yes, bold hero,
Yes; stain thy honour with the unmanly rage
Of giving wound on wound when faint and dying
Thy foe resists no more.

RAYMOND.
I thank thee Caitiff,
For warning me. I would not stain my sword
To rob thee only of a dying moment.
Thy cowardice has purchas'd thee some minutes.
Of longer gasping—O, thou art so bloated
With basest guilt, I cannot bear to view thee.
My happiness, which never was the fruit
Of other's woe, spread wide its blooming honours
In a kind soil, when thou, a brutal Plunderer,
Hast thrown its fairest blossoms in the dust—
My life blood fails; thy lurking ruffian's swords
Have found the mortal part: yet, thanks to Heaven,
Thy purpose shall be blighted.

GUISE.
And art thou wounded?
Ye powers of death assist me!

[drawing his sword.
RAYMOND.
Villain!
[they fight, Guise falls.
There lie, detested coward!
Cold in my bosom smarts the murdering sword
That kill'd my last fond hope.

GUISE.
Oh this is terrible!
He that receives a wrong—he, he is happy,
Compar'd to him who gave it!
My crimes, oh horrible, and death's hand on me!

Enter Bramville, Ronsard and Servants, with Eemoine veiled.
RONSARD.
Still not in vain, my Lord, is our attempt.
[to Raymond.
We rescued her from Guise's ruffian bands:
But let us haste from hence. Ah heaven, you bleed.

[Bramville and Ronsard support Raymond.
RAYMOND.
Death gently beckons me: Oh speed my friends
To Sicily, and place my rescued spouse—
[Eemoine drops the veil.
Heavens, is it thee! O now my heart is vanquish'd!
My last fond wish, my last fond hope destroy'd!

[Sinking down, Bramville and Ronsard support him.
GUISE.
O cursed woman, see the bitter fruits
[to Eemoine.
Of thy intrigues, and curst advice—
Some Dæmon drags me hence, dark settling horror—

[dies.
EEMOINE.
Dreadful, O dreadful, all my hopes are blasted!
[looking at Guise.
O injur'd Raymond, trembling I approach thee.
Much injur'd Raymond, thy Countess overlov'd thee;
'Twas I attempted to seduce her virtue,
Which mid the darkness of these plotful hours
Shone with redoubled lustre; loud and awfully
Thy wrongs cry vengeance; and behold their victim
Kneeling before thee. Mark me, great thy wrongs,
And this their fruits—
[Stabs herself, the dagger snatch'd from her.
Yet life seems slow to fly.
Oh, while it lingers bear me to the Countess:
Pursue and snatch her from the slaves of Guise.
Yet let me ask forgiveness.

RAYMOND.
Bramville, thy friendly arms
Were the kind shelter of my infant years.
Yet, yet, my friends, by all your dearest cares,
Oh soothe my ghost, save my Erminia.
What pleasing indolence—O death, I come!

[dies.
BRAMVILLE.
Peace to thy noble soul!
Oh gentleness,
That Fortune's giddy height cou'd never change!
Oh nobleness of every gallant virtue,
Is this the best acquittance the base world
Could give to thee!

Enter the Countess, looking at Eemoine.
COUNTESS.
Hast thou again betray'd me! if my servants
Had not now rescued me—
My evil Angel why thus glar'st thou at me!

EEMOINE.
The treacherous flow of spirits
That gave the blow has left me: deep, oh deep,
[sinking down.
And deeper still I sink. Oh black'ning horrors,
Is there no help?—Alas, no gleam of hope!
How dreadful is your silence! Mercy Heaven,
Injur'd Erminia, canst thou forgive me?
Thy husband lov'd thee, ever fondly lov'd thee.
Hence, hence, ye hissing adders—Ah it flashes
Now, now 'tis darkness—

[dies.
ERMINIA.
My husband did she say! O yes, he lov'd me.
Ha, what—
[turning to Raymond.
My Husband murder'd.
[kneeling down by him—A pause.
Arise my noble Raymond, rise,
And let us fly—

BRAMVILLE.
Assume the sacred veil,
The holy cloyster's walls shall then protect you,
And melancholy peace may shed her balm
On life's cold evening—

ERMINIA.
Take my child away—
Oh Heaven, how dreadful these upbraiding looks
From my own infant! Ask me not, I know not
Who slew thy Father—Gracious Heaven,
No child is here; but here my murder'd Husband!

[faints.
BRAMVILLE.
Ha!—what resounding tumult!

LORD ADMIRAL.
Oh, my Lord,
'Tis treason's triumph o'er our country's fall.
Few moments since I saw the warlike Bourbon
Grasping the victory, ride thro' the field,
His eye-balls fir'd with joy.

BRAMVILLE.
Alas the King!
A prisoner!

[Enter the King, guarded by Spanish soldiers.
KING.
Off—your base hands, you slaves—

BRAMVILLE.
Amidst thy bitter feelings for thyself,
Look here, fallen King—
[pointing to the Countess and Raymond.
Low lies thy faithfullest,
Thy bravest Peer—These are the horrid triumphs
Of thy lewd revels!

KING.
These—Oh Heaven, couldst thou
Restore me yesterday!

RONSARD.
When gallant injur'd Raymond
Sheath'd his good sword, then thou, and France, were conquer'd.

BRAMVILLE.
Lord Admiral, deep were your state intrigues,
Yet mark his truth, the favorite care of Heaven;
Tho' fortified with all the brazen mounds
That art can rear, and watch'd by eagle's eyes,
Still will some rotten part betray the structure
That is not bas'd by simple honesty.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Patience, my Liege, were now becoming grandeur.

KING.
Insidious villain, in a baser slavery
Than this thou long hast held me. Oh Disgrace
Left friendless in the field! me, and my cause,
So hated, none to back me! Hah! and must I
Be led to Bourbon? Must that haughty Traytor,
Avengeful Heaven, must he pronounce my fate!
O had I died a Monarch in the field!
Deeply, O Raymond, deeply art thou reveng'd!
Now I'm no King indeed—

Exeunt omnes.