 | The Crown Jewel |  |
Scene 4.
Another Street in the City. (Enter two Citizens.)1st Cit.
Joy fills the province, not a heart therein
But throbs with it, from that which agitates
The regal pulse down to the drudging peasant's.
Old age and buoyant youth participate
Together in its kindling extasy.
Look yonder at that merry-making group,
How the delirium of the festive hour
Hath overtaken and assorted it
Blending its motley features into one
Benign expression of felicity!
2nd Cit.
By this emotion of prevailing joy
Is the good spirit of allegiance tried.
The concord which upholds our festivals,
More than the stirring sympathies of war
Argues the State's well-being
[Enter King, procession, &c. with flourish of trumpets.
Omnes.
Long live the King! Long live Prince Amored!
King.
Thanks! and God bless you all
Our loving people!—To your loyal hearts
We owe the calm and sunshine of the realm,
Its biding peace and fair prosperity.
Our throne has been exalted by your virtues—
Our sway and territorial boundaries
Propped by your valour. Thanks to all!
Omnes.
Long live the King! God bless our sovereign!
King.
A happy people! happy is its prince!
Again we thank you with a prouder heart,
Made prouder by the utterance of your love.
Omnes.
Long live the King!
King.
May such strong loyalty
Survive us long and to our kingdom's heir
Prove his best shield and weapon of defence.
To-day, reliant on your high regard,
We crave, on his account, a patient moment
Wherein to recommend him to your favour
And the exuberance of your love entreat
In his behalf. Refuse not to the son,
Our throne's successor, the allegiance
You duteously have tendered to his sire;
But let him in your favour blend with us,
So shall all after duty to your sovereign,
At our decease, be leavened with delight
And the condition of the kingdom prosper.
All.
Long live the King! Long live Prince Amored!
With length of days high heaven hath honoured me.
Nor in their course withheld or limited
The dewfall of its blessings. God be thanked
For the sweet mercy of prosperity,
Which hath been handmaid of so long a lifetime
And still attends us, vigorous as ever!
Although December snows enwrap our head—
Our sight be clouded and our blood nigh frozen,
This boon of heaven hath waned not with our waning
But more than mere surviving us, increases.
The offering of a monarch is his peoples',
Therefore, together, let us offer thanks
For this sweet mercy!
All.
Long live our monarch!
King.
Courteous lieges! yield
Indulgence to your grey-haired sovereign
Whom the infirmities of life persuade.
To delegate the cares of government
To younger hands. No stranger is our son
Among you, and no alien to your love.
The instructions of our estimable men—
Scholars and worthies, in his grateful mind
Shew promise of rich harvest, History,—
The usages of men have been his study—
All arts, industrial and elegant.
Nor is he a raw tyro and untried
In war, but with your valiant selves hath shared
The perils and glory of our late campaign.
To us he has been all things, as a son,
His very life suspended on our wishes;
Duty and love are so agreed in him
They form one virtue. In his mother's eyes,
The aspect nature gave him is our own:
In our fond vision, he is doubly prized,
Being the image of our loving consort.
Excuse us, loyal sirs, that we have hung
So long upon the promise of our throne,
So glibly have his many graces dealt on,
And to your ears built up a man complete
Fitter to sway the empire than his sire.
All.
Long live the King!
King.
No stranger to your fealty we impose—
No substitute that shall supplant ourselves—
No base intruder on our own free soil—
No corrupt bastard with corrupting blood!
Regard him as a fellow-subject still,
Yet sharer with ourselves in palace cares—
The heir apparent to our high estate
Apprenticed to the toils of sovereignty.
All.
Long live Prince Amored!
From your approval of my pet resolve
I draw both augury and inference—
An augury of welfare to my kingdom—
The inference that love and loyalty
Glow in your generous bosoms and give promise
To compass and defend the kingdom's heir.
To-night it is our purpose (as it has been
Though secret kept, these many passing years,)
From the strict rigour of an early vow,
Made in an hour of dire perplexity
To liberate ourselves and our successors.
By tenor of this oath, as you all know,
Our crown and sceptre, the regalia
Which on great state occasions played their part
And with our kingdom's history are blent,
Have in abeyance lain, since the demise
Of our illustrious sire. The Lord Soartes,
A trusty and leal-hearted nobleman,
Holds them in keeping. From his special charge
Now that the prejudice is dying out
Which linked them with disaster and mishap,
It is our settled purpose to release them.
To the custodier of this onerous trust
Our letters of relief will welcome prove,
Leaving intact, as they are framed to do,
His annual perquisites. We now give order,
Touching the liberation of these jewels,
That once more they confront the eyes of men
And in our palace and the senate house
Enact their part. To-night's great festival
Invites to blend with it all lustrous aids
And in the restoration of the pomp,
Which to our court pertains as well as camp,
The opportunity presents itself.
My Lord Soartes! it is our good pleasure
That the regalia of this noble realm
Grace to-night's banquet.
Soar.
'Tis my pride and duty
To hold my sovereign's pleasure at command;
Yet—may I plead—
King.
Nay! let it not distress you,
My worthy and revered counsellor!
To what extent the setting of our jewels
Hath ta'en on tarnish. Man's imperfect work
Time takes his pleasure with—soils and disfigures—
Only to shew where true perfection lies—
So in the embroidery of these diamonds
Artistic in design, eye-taking once
And spoken of as something marvellous,
The accidents which rob them of their charms
Exalt their wearers and more brilliant make
And costlier to the eye, the gems encased.
Nor does it need these to resuscitate
And bid shine forth in all their pristine lustre
More than the flourish of a page's hand
Armed with a lady's kerchief. Spider-weft
And dust may for a season muffle up
The face of things eternal—ay!—of souls,
And reputations which are fixed as stars,
Yet in its day, their value will break forth
And the cloud pass which threatened with extinction.
But go, Soartes, give its grace to duty:—
This signet will secure a guard of honour,
And it is meet that some formality
Should wait the resurrection of these jewels.
[Exeunt.
| The Crown Jewel | |