 | Fontainville Forest |  |
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ACT V.
SCENE—The Forest. (Moonlight.)Enter Marquis.
Marquis.
When can ambition lay him down secure
Of ill-got power, and dread no retribution?
While one slave lives who minister'd his purpose,
He is not safe—Witness that curs'd Laval—
The villain started not to slay his prince
At my command—but for the infant child,
He spar'd her to defeat my proudest hopes.
She lives in Adeline—Furies of Hell!
To tempt me thus with damning incest too!
And bid me crush the form I would enjoy!
Jaques! How now? What! Have you found Laval?
Enter Jaques.
Jaques.
No, my good Lord, nor heard late tidings of him.—
His townsmen say he left the country suddenly;
And since he went, nothing has e'er occur'd
To lead them to the knowledge of his course.
Marquis.
Make more enquiries still—He must be found,
And silenc'd by the only certain means.
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And this firm hand shall seal down Adeline
In sleep eternal—Jaques, command your fellows
To guard the lanes that issue from the wood—
And on their lives, permit no one to pass.
If they do intercept, during the night,
Any thing human, see the fugitive
Be reconducted to the abbey yonder,
For there I shall expect you.
Jaques.
Well, my Lord.
[Exeunt.
SCENE—The Hall. A small Gate seen.
Enter Lamotte and Madame.
Madame.
Why have you left your chamber thus, my husband;
Wherefore these haggard looks, as though despair
Usurp'd the seat of murderous suggestion?
Your vacant eye rolls its still cheated sense,
And you seem wrapt in horror.
Lamotte.
Frenzy, wife,
Presses upon my brain—Hark, some one knocks!
Look out! It is the Marquis! Lo! He comes!
In fierce resentment punishes my pity,
And now I cannot save her.
Madame.
No one comes;
Thro' the still abbey not a murmur breathes.
Lamotte.
My sense returns—make haste, my Adeline!
Oh save me, by thy flight, eternal pangs!
She comes! She comes!
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Lamotte.
Peter, is all prepared?
Give me the cloak—this will be necessary;
The weather else will chill my angel! There!
Peter, be sure you take the road to Paris.
Peter.
I know a narrow unfrequented track
That leads out to the road—the way's direct.
Madame.
Adieu, dear Adeline!
Adeline.
My best of parents!
Lamotte.
Enquire Nemours out on arrival there—
Nay, no leave taking! we have not a moment.
[Exeunt Adeline and Peter.
Madame.
Alas! Lamotte, I tremble to enquire
The cause of this confusion—but our Adeline—
Lamotte.
Was on the precipice's very verge,
And but this flight, no power here could save her.
Hortensia, O thou never wilt believe
To what a wretch accurs'd, thy fate has join'd thee.
I pledg'd my hopes, my life to yonder Marquis,
To murder her this night.
Madame.
Whom, Adeline?
Her you so lately snatch'd from brutal force?
Lamotte.
Ev'n her. There's such a coil around me, wife,
That, not to have done it, may be fatal to us—
Know, that to save thee from the gripe of hunger,
One fatal morn I rush'd into that wood
Bent upon plunder—Damning infamy
Soon pointed out a subject, and he prov'd—
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The Marquis of Montault—Thou, good Lamotte,
Thus goaded by a villain, how I grieve
That confidence denied me, should thus sink thee!
Oh, never let one wedded wanderer blush
To give his errors to connubial trust!
The bosom of a wife's a sanctuary,
Where sad confession may repose his weakness,
And thence derive comfort that leads to virtue.
Lamotte.
I own my error; dearest love, forgive me.
Madame.
What's best now to be done?
Lamotte.
Fly with the dawn.
I dare not meet the Marquis.
Madame.
Yet, at worst,
His fear of your disclosure may preserve you.
Lamotte.
Well thought on. Come, we'll make short preparation;
Then, if this savage, eager after blood,
Roam not the forest, 'ere the peep of day,
We'll trust ourselves on foot to mercy's care.
Madame.
I shall not feel fatigue while you are happy.
As they are going out, enter the Marquis.
Marquis.
Lamotte! Well, my friend;
[Exit Madame.
Say, am I happy—hast thou done the deed?
Lamotte.
I have, my Lord—Here Adeline wakes no more.
The fiercest spirit of the murdering fiends,
I think inspir'd me.
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Friendship such as this
Demands the warmest gratitude; command me,
And all my fortune's means to do you service.
Lamotte.
But hear the manner of it—In her bed
She lay all discompos'd by Fancy's visions,
And in her sleep she call'd on me by name;
Implor'd my pity, and besought my aid
To snatch her from the power of you, her tyrant.
I bade her wake, and thunder'd in her ear,
'Twas in your cause I came thus to destroy her.
Would you had seen her then! In rage I rush'd,
Enring'd these singers in her golden hair,
And plung'd the thirsting poniard in her breast;
She struggled not—forgave me—and expir'd.
Marquis.
Ha! this o'erstrain'd description bids me doubt him.
(Aside.)
Where is the body?—Bring me to the place.
Lamotte.
My Lord, for fear of a discovery,
I cramm'd it into an old chest within
Which seem'd before to have serv'd the same occasion,
And buried it in haste, without your orders,
Deep in a cave, hard by here in the forest.
Marquis.
What should I think! Jaques not yet return'd—
Yes, here he comes.
(Goes to him.)
Enter Jaques.
Well, have you captur'd any?
Jaques.
A lady and an old man seiz'd on horseback.
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Conduct them to our presence instantly.
[Exit Jaques.
Impudent villain! thy high-labour'd tale
Gave thee at every word the clearest falsehood;
But I have other proof.—Thou hast dispatched her
With Peter through the forest.—
Lamotte.
Well, I own it.
I know the greatest peril of the act;
The die is thrown, and I abide the hazard.
Marquis.
Wretch, whom my foolish mercy once has spar'd,
Hope not to 'scape again thy just deserts.
Thy life is in my power, and by my vengeance
Shall expiate the robbery on our person.
Lamotte.
I fear you not.—Proclaim your accusation,
Ev'n on the instant, I will brand your honour
With the seduction of my soul to murder.
Marquis.
Do so.—Thou wretched fool, who will believe thee?
When grac'd with all the eloquence of rank,
I stand to answer to the sullied charge
Made by an outlaw'd gambler, and a robber,
Can you e'er hope it will be credited?
Lamotte.
If I have sav'd her, I shall die with transport.
Marquis.
See her brought back to thank thee for that saying.
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Adeline.
O, good Lamotte, my wretched fate has sunk thee!
How shall I bear to see my injur'd mother!
Enter Madame.
Madame.
What horror meets me.—Adeline return'd!
Marquis.
Madam, retire—the strict demands of justice
Have too much terror, when they reach a husband.
[Madame about to supplicate.
Lamotte.
Hortensia, not one word in my behalf!
I go to answer to offended justice;
But, Marquis, should thy fatal thirst of blood
Persist in the design to me entrusted,
Unheard of miseries must await such outrage.
Marquis.
Bear her to close confinement instantly.
Madame.
Never, my lovely child, my darling friend,
O, I can never lose thee! Man of terrors,
I charge thee, see thou wound not innocence
Pure as the shrines of saints.
Marquis.
Bear off the women!
In separate chambers see them strictly guarded.
Taken apart.
Seize you that ruffian—Lo, the very wretch,
Who lately robb'd us in the wood adjacent.
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Louis.
Hold off your hands, you servile Ministers,
Or my quick rage shall trample you to earth.
Marquis.
Audacious stripling! know, within my power
Is placed the fate of yonder wretched plunderer.
Or give my pleasure way, or thou thyself,
Rash Minion, shalt repent this bold intrusion.
Louis.
What, is it thus in France? that a foul murderer,
Harden'd in crimes himself, and stain'd with blood,
Shall deal his sentence out on virtuous men,
And write his ruffian vengeance in their hearts!
O soil accurs'd! I know thee then no more.
Marquis.
Insolent villain! Silence for thy life!
Louis.
My life is plac'd under too high a guard
For the assassin's steel to reach at it.
It is devoted to disclose thy crimes,
And so appease a murder'd brother's shade.
Come forth, Nemours!
Enter Nemours.
Marquis.
Now, Sir, what make you here?
Nemours.
Behold in me the delegate express
E'en from thy Sovereign—vested with the powers
To bring thee straight to answer to a charge
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A guard at hand shall drag thee to our courts.
[Enter a guard behind.
Marquis.
Sir, as a minister of justice, sent
With powers I must respect, I yield in all things.
But may I ask what proofs you have of this,
Which boldly I pronounce a falsehood? Say,
Did not yon boy provoke this fond procedure?
Nemours.
So far you're right: He did, and on sure grounds.
Marquis.
You will not think so, when you hear my tale;
Know that his father robb'd our very person,
For which offence, no doubt, this wretched plot
Was hatch'd against my honour and my life;
But Justice shall avenge me on them all.
Nemours.
Sir, you deceive yourself—Lo, here a witness,
Even in your brother's hand, whereby he charges
You and your slaves suborn'd, with his arrest
Here in the very Abbey.
Marquis.
Forgery all.
By Heav'n, my brother fell in Hungary,
A valiant champion for the Holy Cross.
Nemours.
Nay, 'tis no late imposture—View it well!
Its characters obliterated half,
And faded what remain, by time and damps.
Marquis.
Sir, I affirm again 'tis desperate forgery.
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Nemours.
Know you one, nam'd Laval? What, does it shake thee?
Enter Laval.
See the wretch brought before thee.
Marquis.
Furies seize him!
Lamotte.
By Heav'n, the very man who gave me Adeline!
Marquis.
Then I am caught indeed! O that my rage
Could crush, at once, mankind in general ruin.
No! tho' all hell seems arm'd against my life,
I will not yield me to your torturing ruffians,
Nor, like a slave, expire upon a scaffold.
This way alone, does not degrade ambition.
[Stabs himself and falls.
Lamotte.
Desperate to the last.
Nemours.
A dreadful judgment.
[He makes a sign, and exit Laval.
Marquis.
The hand of death has clear'd my cheated sight—
Lamotte, draw nearer, and mark my latest words—
I have done all I'm charg'd with; Adeline
Is that wrong'd brother's child—I know it—
Most horrible conviction made it certain—
All that I have is hers.—Is so by right,
I would not now withhold it! Could she forgive me!
But that's impossible.—O mercy, Heaven!
[Dies.
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My Adeline!
[Kneels.
Madame.
My husband thus restor'd,
My darling son the means too!
Nemours.
Even so;
Lamotte, a secret Providence; no doubt,
Directed this disclosure—That Laval,
About to suffer for another crime,
Begg'd respite to disclose this scene of horrors.
Your son arrived to give it truth undoubted.
Lamotte.
Joy beams at length on all but me, sincere,
Pure and unclouded; but my penitence
Will, I trust, expiate my former errors,
And chear the exile they have forc'd upon me.
Nemours.
Lamotte, for you a brighter prospect dawns,
Nor shall your future days be dimm'd with sorrow.
The King, to recompense the valiant deeds
Of your brave son, recalls you to your home,
And with free pardon blots out past offences.
Lamotte.
My son! my son! I have no words to thank thee.
[Embraces him.
Nemours.
For you, dear Lady, justice has prepar'd
The full possession of your lineal rights.
Adeline.
'Tis here I owe their splendour; and thus pay
The gratitude at once for life and love.
[Gives her hand to Louis.
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My children, may superior joys await ye,
And lengthen out a date of mutual fondness.
Adeline.
My worthy venerable guide, to you
I'm bound for such advent'rous sympathy
As scorn'd the claims of age, to save a stranger.
Peter.
I see you innocent and happy, Madam;
The best reward that I can hope on earth.
Adeline.
The great Avenger of perverted nature
Before us has display'd a solemn lesson,
How he dispels the cloud of mystery,
With which the sinful man surrounds his crimes;
It calls us to adore in awful wonder,
And recommend ourselves by humble virtue.
[Exeunt omnes.
THE END.
| Fontainville Forest | |