University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Count Raymond's Castle. After Sun set.
Count Raymond and Ronsard advancing.
RAYMOND.
Yes, Ronsard, ere to-morrow noon my Country
Shall triumph o'er her Foes. But whence these Sounds
Of Feast and Joy, that echo from my Towers!
Whence round my Gate these Soldiers filed in Rank

RONSARD.
The Admiral of France, my Lord, commands them,
And see, he beckons us.

RAYMOND.
Yes, I perceive him.
Forgive my Lord—the unexpected Blaze
[to the Adm.
And Voice of Revelry has stunn'd my Thoughts.
—Alas, my Lord,
Ill suits this sacred House with guardless Riot!
In times like these, beneath the open Sky,
The Night dew dropping from his dangling Curls,
The Soldier should out watch the peeping Stars
Of chilly Dawn. But here, O Shame to Manhood!
Perfum'd and shuddering at the drizzly Shower,
Beneath the gilded Roof, the silken Warrior
Of these degenerate Days in wanton Luxury
Unstrings his feeble Sinews! Oh my Country!
Forgive my wandering Passions—haste, my Lord,
If as my Heart misgives me, if my Sovereign
Here lost in Revel wastes the unvalued Hours,
Haste lead me to him; Bourbon's, my Country's Fate,
Hang on my Lips.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Bourbon, my Lord,
Is fled, confused as from a total Rout.

RAYMOND.
Ha, Bourbon fled—Destruction to my Country
Follows that thin delusion—Where is my Sovereign—

LORD ADMIRAL.
Mark me, my Lord; this keen Impatience suits not
Your present Danger.

RAYMOND.
Danger to me peculiar!
Yet say, where lies it.

LORD ADMIRAL.
In the King's Displeasure,
For this your Disobedience, which your Foes,
May vaump in Treason's Garb.

RAYMOND.
Be plain, my Lord,
You speak a Language to my Heart unknown.

LORD ADMIRAL.
And plain then be it:
Here, my Lord, your Presence
Is disobedience: Your commanded Duty
Calls you to other Station.

RAYMOND.
Darker still
Are these ambiguous Words—A Soldier's Duty,
My King's Command I never disobey'd.

LORD ADMIRAL.
The King, when Bourbon fled, sent his Command
That Raymond still should guard Marseilles' torn Walls,
Lest Bourbon's Flight be only Stratagem,
Till he himself to-morrow Noon reliev'd him.
Such the Command: and Raymond now stands here
In Act of daring Disobedience.

RAYMOND.
Ah now, the dreary Gleam,
As of a funeral Torch, breaks thro' the Darkness
That veil'd your Words. But Raymond were a Traitor
Were he not here, and earnest to demand
An Audience of his Sovereign; tell him Count Raymond
Has left Marseilles; tell him his Crown depends
On my immediate Audience—No, myself
Shall bring Conviction.

LORD ADMIRAL.
That my Lord were Treason
In me, in these, not to prevent.

RAYMOND.
What Madness this! what thriftless waste of Time,
The Sword has nobler Work—And instantly,
I will have Audience.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Yet, brave Raymond hear.
First, let me tell him that important Reasons
Have brought you here: but as you love your Country,
First let me urge the Reasons that perswade
Myself, ere to your Sovereign unprepar'd,
Unthank'd I bring you.

RAYMOND.
Thankless it shall not be;
And speed, Lord Admiral, as you would spurn
The Name of Traitor—
[Ex. Lord Admiral.
Ronsard, in your Eye
[to Ronsard.
I read Amazement—in myself I feel
An unform'd Horror, and ill-boding Darkness—
Oh my Erminia—All gracious Heaven,
Where am I lost!

RONSARD.
My Friend, my better Father!
O good my Lord, far from your generous Heart
Be these vile Terrors.

RAYMOND.
Ere the sacred altar,
Witness'd her plighted faith, my lov'd Erminia
Plighted her troth, and I esteemed it sacred,
For by her love she vow'd, never to grace
The Court of Valois. When the extacy
Of love's completion was a new existence,
When all the passion of that generous time
Fires the affections, and each melting wish
But glows to please, she read my secret thought,
And fondly promised never in my absence
To give her presence to the passing guest.
Yet this dread night—

RONSARD.
To night, my Lord, the King
Commands your castle.

RAYMOND.
And I know him well,
I feel some leaden hand invisible,
Weigh down my freezing heart—Where the Kite hovers,
The quarry lies in view—Soon Bourbon's thunder
Shall sound another peal, than that which now
Kindles this lust inspiring revelry.
Yet ere I warn my Sovereign of his danger,
Ere for my country I can draw my sword.
My Heart's sole treasure, my Erminia's safety,
Must to my heart be firm assur'd—Till then
The King I see not. In the bower that shades
My Chapel wall, I wait, till you good Ronsard,
Bring me my aged Uncle, honour'd Bramville;
His words I'll trust. Oh speed; my spouse, my country,
Urge violent speed.—
[Exit Ronsard.
—Base world, how dost thou teem
With foul events! Justice and every service
Are all mere cob-web films to bind the hands
Of Lust and Tyranny! Good Heaven, what dangers
Frown dreadful on me! O Erminia,
Wilt thou prove false! Away, the thought is treason.
Their witch like creeping arts affect not thee,
Yet oft with pain and fear have I beheld
A little, wayward, giddy levity,
Shew its capricious features in the midst
Of thy endearments, while the languid sigh,
And eye disatisfied, would tell the wish
For courtly grandeur. Ah, my boding heart!
Away, these cruel and ungenerous thoughts—
Yet fear gnaws deep—the King; ay that admits
No hesitation—

SCENE—A Room in Raymond's Castle.
The King, the Lord Admiral, and Duke of Guise.
KING.
And Raymond here in breach of our command?
My Lords, beware, the vengeance of a King
Falls heavy on Deceivers. You have told me
Of Raymond's beauteous Lady—All you told
Drew but a faded picture of her charms:
So lovely she outshines description,
But you have added, that she might be won.
You give me sweetest poison, and you promise
Its rapturous antidote. The poison kindles
A wild delirium; but the blissful cure
Exceeds all art to compass. All she feels
Is passion for her husband. I have seen her,
And hopeless rage is mine

GUISE.
All tenderness,
Melting with grief she seem'd, but the keen taste
Of joy is sister to the soft enthusiasm
Of melting sorrow; open is her temper;
Lively and delicate her fancy glows.
Then doubt it not, but sprightly levity
Pants in her Breast. If I know ought of woman,
Such one is to be wrought on.

KING.
You have told me
Raymond's proud heart might by a King be soften'd,
And high advancement next to sovereign rank
Shall bribe his patience. If you here deceive me,
Dreadful shall burst the storm. And Raymond's pride
I dread alike as his Erminia's hate,
Invincible.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Yet hear, my Leige;
Ambition is the raging fire that burns
The heart of Raymond.

KING.
Honour lives in his breast;
His Soul is more than Roman. Tho' my happiness
Be plac'd perhaps at mortal strife with his,
My heart delights to pause upon his virtues;
What his bold sword has done, what wounds he bears,
Young as he is, earn'd nobly in my battles!
Long have the shatter'd walls of lorn Marseilles
Defy'd the traitor Bourbon's fiercest rage.
And had not Raymond thus oppos'd his course,
Paris ere now had seen the daring rebel
Campt at her gates. Fierce Bourbon now is sled
To Italy; such circumstance we owe
To Raymond's bold defence.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Yet has he left
His shatter'd walls in breach of fixt command
And as a spy, comes lurking here.

KING.
Lord Admiral,
I read your untold counsel; punish that crime.
Yes, I will punish it: But he who first
Advises favours as the way to conquer,
Then fearful of his promise urges rigour,
To me seems deep in guilt. Each various art
Of war is Bourbon's: and perhaps his flight
Is only feign'd. Were sudden injury
Pour'd now on Raymond—Ah, beneath my banners
Blunted were many a spear; so well esteemed,
So lov'd he reigns in ev'ry Soldier's heart.
Yet shall I yield the dearest happiness!
And shall my Soul that never knew to humble,
Coldly and humbly too resign the hope
Of all I wish—Alas, my fever'd heart
With anguish'd longing seeks the fair One's presence,
Tho' not a smile repay my ardent love.
Here wait our will—
[Exit King.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Your plots, young Lord, are turn'd
Like arrows on their masters. Raymond's valour
Is now the King's sole theme of praise and wonder;
And Raymond's power portends our hopeless fall
Was it for this, my Guise, we rooted out
The haughty Bourbon from the King's affections,
That ere they cool'd, his place might be supplied
By this affected Roman!

GUISE.
Every failure
That Jealousy's prophetic Eye may dread,
Our care has shunn'd—

LORD ADMIRAL.
When comes a smooth-faced Boy,
Squeamish with honesty, vaumpt with the feathers
By thoughtless courage gain'd: And, Oh disgrace
Tears from the hoary Politician's brow
The civic wreath, and plants it on his own

GUISE.
No, Fortune ever is the slave of wisdom;
Bold, let us hope.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Loud and audaciously,
Tis, said he, brands the Court: Bourbon he calls
A gallant Man much injured.

GUISE.
And may silence
Still close that strain.
Raymond bears every gallant Virtue's semblance
So taking with the King. But wound his honour,
Unbridled as the northern storm, his rage
Bursts headlong, nor subsides till justice soothe
His rankled pride,

LORD ADMIRAL.
Oh hence, that hope of women,
That builds its trust on what another's honour
May please to do; give sovereign power to Raymond,
And ev'n to Grooms, he yields his lovely Countess.
What works we fondly thought to raise against him,
Serve but as steps to lift him up to greatness

KING.
My Lord, there is a wisdom cold and watchful,
Much of itself approved, that calmly triumphs
O'er what the simple name the gen'rous passions.
This wisdom headlong Raymond never knew
Oft in the camp I've read his furious madness;
Calm prudence never veil'd his mind's affection.
If the fierce Lioness unmov'd, will slumber,
While from her side her howling whelps are torn
By Shepherds curs, then will the heart-changed Raymond
Calmly resign his Countess.

LORD ADMIRAL.
But the King
As wildly great in generous nobleness,
Will never—cannot, thus o'erwhelm in Ruin,
The man his soul admires.

GUISE.
By cool design,
Perhaps he cannot: But he little dreads
How female charms o'erpower him. All he feels
Is wild delirium then; and his high spirit
Disdains each bound which then would check his Fire
From viewing Bourbon's camp this morn I led him
To Raymond's gates: the wood-embosom'd Castle
Presented to his mind the gallant lovers
And ladies of Romance. Here's some adventure,
Cried the pleased King.

LORD ADMIRAL.
And did not you extol
The Lady of the mansion's wondrous charms?

GUISE.
I named her passing beauty; but I named it
With careless voice. The unexpected blaze
Strikes to the soul—fair as the blush of morn,
We found her walking pensive in the garden;
She, far the loveliest flow'r that flourish'd there;
Sorrow was in her eye and melting sweetness;
And unsuspicious innocence beam'd round her.
O'erpower'd till lost in pausing awkwardness,
The King gaz'd on her charms,
But when her husband.
Was named—

GUISE.
Cold at the heart, methought it struck him
With vacant looks as hopeless of his wish;
He paus'd and sigh'd; then sudden o'er his cheek
The blush of love rush'd out. I mark'd his eye,
It brighten'd and it languish'd every moment
While roving o'er her charms.

LORD ADMIRAL.
And was her sorrow
The net of love display'd to catch the Lover
Who fondly soothes it?

GUISE.
No; 'twas innocence,
Artless, yet easy to be gently won.
Some fearful dreams about her husband's safety
Prey'd on her heart; but when the King declar'd
Danger was o'er, as Angels smile, she smil'd.
And when he talk'd of courtly joys, of grandeur,
And beauty's empire, heaven's how the deep sigh
Betray'd her fluttering heart.!

LORD ADMIRAL.
Your spouse, my Lord,
Comes with the looks of care.

GUISE.
Why my Eemoine, why that pensive eye,
Where love should only reign!

EEMOINE.
My Lord, I know not.
What means the King; to me he talks of honour,
That all his wish is but to favour Raymond;
To see the Countess happy at the court,
The fairest ornament of Fontainbleau.
Pity, indeed, that here amidst these wilds,
Such charms, such virtues, as adorn the Countess,
Should to the world be lost. But if the King
Do plan delusion, gracious Angels guard me—
No; never shall my conscious lips betray
Such innocence, such sacred spousal love.
'Twas not in vain, my Lord, you brought me here;
Here shall I better learn, tho' well I knew
From thee before, to tend the flowers that shed
Their soft endearments o'er the sacred bowers
Of wedded love.

GUISE.
And long and happy be your sacred friendship
With Raymond's Countess! from these dull retirements
Urge her to follow you to courtly splendor;
And as your friendship strengthens, be the wish
Still melting on your lips, that gallant Raymond
Would join strict friendship with your prosp'rous husband.
I then were fully happy.

EEMOINE.
Ever shalt thou be happy,
My wedded Lord, if aught my cares avail.
The Countess flies the King; I go to soothe her
By his command, and bring her to the mask-room

GUISE.
Such was thy smile, my Fair, when at the altar
I seiz'd thy yielding hand—

Ex. Eemoine]
LORD ADMIRAL.
Great in the future tales
Of state intrigue, I hail thee, prudent Guise.
Thy Spouse, a stranger to thy heart, will act
Her part from simple nature, unopposed
By female scruples.

GUISE.
Think not ever woman
Shall fathom this deep breast: but well I know,
When woman's faith is tamper'd with,
Woman must be employ'd: a woman's presence
Lulls fear to sleep: a woman's friendly smile
Gives silent approbation to the thoughts,
As to themselves unknown they warm to passion.

LORD ADMIRAL.
Cautious, yet fearless too must we hold on.
Where fear prevails no bold emprize succeeds.
I hasten to the King: do thou find Raymond,
And fire him to the mood of our desires.

[Exeunt
SCENE—An Arbour by an old Chapel.
Raymond and Bramville
RAYMOND.
The King and Guise this morning at my castle—

BRAMVILLE,
Yet hear, my Lord—

RAYMOND.
Saw my Erminia! and now are with her
Holding heir revelry. O woman's honour,
Poor glittering vapour, bursting at the touch
Of first intruder!

BRAMVILLE.
'Twas the King, my Lord,
Twas he intruded: in the Cypress Grove
By chance he met her: to the silent shade
Mournful she fled, to give her bleeding heart
The fainting ease and luxury of sorrow.
For thee, brave Raymond, bled her faithful heart.
In each sad life-throb. Fearful images
Of thee, stretch'd pale and breathless on the ground,
Haunted her tortur'd fancy: when the King
Affirm'd your safety—as an April sun
Smiles through the weeping clouds, she smil'd and glow'd
With sudden joy. But soon the pale-lipt sigh
Confest the cold return of doubtful fear.
The King's officious kindness seem'd ungrateful
To her pain'd heart: and soon indeed she left him.
All noon she linger'd pensive by the window,
Whence seen in distant view Marseilles' grey towers,
And Bourbon's camp held her attentive eye:
Loud roar'd the war, and hissing thro' the air,
The bombs shower'd on the city. At the burst
Of ev'ry groaning volley were her eyes
And hands held up to heaven; Oh spare my husband!
Wildly she cried, in all the strength of terror;
Then would have swoon'd; but waken'd by another,
And still another roar of Bourbon's thunder.
Oh spare my Raymond, heaven! she still exclaim'd;
Till silence with the evening sudden closed
The dreadful day—

RAYMOND.
Oh, what a treasure, gracious heaven, is mine!
Yes; I could weep, and all my heart is pour'd
O'er my Erminia's generous pain—my heart
Upbraids itself for its dishonest fears.
But speed thee, Bramville, bring my tender fair one
Where, unprofan'd by these gay revellers' eyes,
Here in the sacred Chapel, I may fold her
In my enraptur'd arms, and vow my love,
Ere on the battle-field I meet the foe
From whence, Heaven knows, if e'er my steps return.

BRAMVILLE.
I speed, my Lord.

RAYMOND.
Hah, what ill-boding omen!
My heart's dire dread—

Enter the King, Guise, and Lord Admiral.
KING.
What councils hold you here in these lone shades?
Raymond, thy brave protection of Marseilles
Receives our thanks; but our command bade Raymond
Guard well his shatter'd walls against surprize;
Nor leave Marseilles 'till we ourself reliev'd him.
But thou art here: How stands thy loyalty?
Our will was never disobey'd in vain.

RAYMOND.
My presence here, my Liege attests my loyalty
More than the numerous wounds thy battles gave me.
Two months has Bourbon pour'd his rage upon me;
Two months my walls have stopt his march thro' France:
Three nights and days successive, has his thunder
Pour'd on my city, when at last your Highness
Came to the rescue of Marseilles and France.
Then Bourbon fled; and rushing from my towers,
I dar'd the column where his ensign stream'd.
Himself I took not, tho' my spear was near him:
Yet some I made my prisoners; one of these
Carried this letter.
[Gives it to the King, who soon gives it to Guise.
To Marseilles I sent
My brave Lieutenant: to my Sovereign's camp,
(Other command of duty unreceived),
I sped to warn him of to-morrow's war.
Tho' wild confusion mark'd the flight of Bourbon.
The rising sun shall see his army marshall'd
In dread array offering their iron front.
Off with these silken robes and cap of velvet;
The vest of steel, my Liege, and brazen helmet,
Were fitter now

KING.
Raymond, such zeal we need not.
What Bourbon means we know: our camp expects him.
Marseilles demands your presence.
—Every moment
Your tarry here upbraids the king who honours you.
[Raymond retires.]
Good heaven, what mutiny of struggling passions
Raged in his eyes, and shook his lingering steps,
Foreboding dreadful issue!

LORD ADMIRAL.
On himself
Will ever fall the evil.

GUISE.
This the order
[holding the letter in his hand]
Of Bourbon to his generals may be wrought
By jealous Raymond: His ill-boding care
Secludes his Countess with such jealousy,
As if he meant these lonely shades should guard
The wanton rays of summer's genial suns
From playing round her.

KING.
Yet, much care behoves us.
Speed to the camp, Lord Admiral, and give
Our fixt command; let all in silent care
Lie under arms to-night. No sudden danger
Forbids the gay festivity, ordain'd
To win the angel Countess. 'Twere impiety
To love's coy God to slip so fair a season.

GUISE.
Behold, my Liege, with what a pleasing lustre
The star of Venus twinkles o'er the bowers
Inspiring love, as if she bade the lover
Steal to his mistress.

KING.
Every thought presents me
The lovely fair one—Ah, what tenderness,
What warmth of soul, beneath her innocence,
Artless appear'd!

GUISE.
If such dear scenes of transport
Rise in enamour'd fancy, think what transport,
While now the moon gleams thro' the lonely grove
Making the Primrose paler, while the gale
Wispers love sighs, to wander with the goddess,
Who gives the inspiration.

KING.
Oh, name it not.
I am all fire—Yes, I shall die or conquer.