 | The Hebrew |  |
SCENE III.
—Templestowe—Brian enters, forcing in Rebecca.Brian.
I have you in my grasp—no fooling, girl—
Curse on these wounds—wither'd the hand that struck me—
Your voice is feeble as your cries to help you;
We're now in Templestowe, whence all the might
Of all your friends, twice doubled, could not force you.
Rebecca.
Will not a woman's pray'rs, a woman's tears,
Persuade thee from thy purpose?
Brian.
Nay, 'tis thus
That I would have thee—dew-drops in thine eyes,
Pale fear and blushing anger in thy cheeks,
Mingling their colours—'tis the hunter's joy
That the prey flies him.
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Hast thou then no fear
Of earth or heaven?
Brian.
Tush! an idle dream;
Thou must be mine.
Rebecca.
Oh! by thy father's bones!
Thy mother's grave!—By thine own dying hour!—
Perchance it now is striking!—in his name
Who sits above us, seeing though unseen,
Renounce thy dreadful purpose—let me go.
Brian.
I reck not of the future—for the present,
'Tis mine, and I'll enjoy it—foolish girl!
My castle burns—I've fought—have bled for thee—
A heavy price to pay so light a toy—
Therefore, be wise; there's none can rescue you.
Rebecca.
Yes, one.
Brian.
Indeed! I would well see that friend.
Rebecca.
That friend is death.
She flies up the Stairs and appears upon the Parapet.
Approach not, stir not.
Brian.
Hold!
Rebecca.
Stir not—or from these walls that beard the clouds,
I'll fling me headlong to the rocks below.
Brian.
It cannot be such spirit dwells in one
So soft! so timid!
Rebecca.
Trust not thou to that;
Despair is bolder than thy boldest thoughts;—
And oh! he is with me—he lends me strength
To look upon this depth that mocks the eyes;
He lends me wings for the dark flight, and thus—
Brian.
Hold!—Hold!—Rebecca—By the cross I swear
No harm shall touch you—look, behold!—I've sworn it.
Rebecca.
Well, I will trust thee, but if once deceiv'd—
Brian.
Have I not sworn it?
Rebecca.
I'd not be the mock
Of my too easy faith—but I will trust thee.
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Girl! thou hast done what man could never do—
Thou'st blench'd this cheek with fear.
De Bracy enters.
Now?
De Bracy.
All is lost.
Brian.
What?
De Bracy.
The Grand Master comes,—your deadly foe.
Brian.
This cannot be—He's ill in France.
De Bracy.
Deceit!
A forg'd report, that he might come, as now,
Unlook'd for—You well know his bigot zeal,
His hatred to the Jews—Rest well assur'd
He'll take advantage of our Templar law,
That makes it death for any woman, who
Shall come within our walls—And 'tis too late
To think of her concealment.
Rebecca.
Now you see
The evil of your passion; to yourself
It brings defeat—to me, dishonour.
The Grand Master enters, with Knights Templars.
Grand Master.
As I expected—Oh, in happy time
I've come amongst you—Templars we in name,
But not in deed—Woman, who are thou?—Speak.
Rebecca.
Rebecca—Daughter to the Jew of York.
Grand Master.
The witch, the sorc'ress—whose unholy cures
Are famous through the land—thy very name
Is a foul scandal to a Christian ear.
Yet speak thou for thyself.
Rebecca.
What should I say?
You cannot understand me—that I feel—
My faith, my sex, my nation, all to you
Are witnesses against me: yet be just:
If Brian love me, call it not my crime,
My mis'ry rather—If I've given health
To aching sickness, was't an evil gift?
Grand Master.
No, but the means were evil.
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The good end
Is oft corrupted by the means that gain it,
As death of one may be the life of many;
I've not dealt so; the good I've work'd has brought
Evil to no one but myself.
Grand Master.
You hear;
She doth confess her cures were at the price
Of her immortal soul.
Rebecca.
I said not so;
You know my meaning.
Grand Master.
Sorc'ress, thou shalt die:
Thy witch'ries have condemn'd thee to the stake—
But more than this; our Templar law declares,
Whatever woman enters any house
Devote to Templars, she shall die the death.
Rebecca.
Not mine own will; force brought me in these walls.
Brian.
The maid speaks truth; 'twas I compell'd her here.
Grand Master.
For which good deed thy life should pay the forfeit,
But that I think thy heart would mock such pain;
Thy punishment shall be this maiden's death;
So shall one blow strike both offenders.
Rebecca.
Hold—
Since now the evils of thy cruel law
Are bruising to me, let me share the good
That law may offer.
Grand Master.
Aye; indeed! What good
Can Christian laws afford thy loathed tribe.
Rebecca.
I do deny thy charge, and will appear
In trial by my champion.
Grand Master.
Who will be
Thy champion?
Rebecca.
Who that bears
The name of man, and doth deserve that name,
Will to a woman's innocence deny
The peril of his life? There lies my gage.
She throws down her glove.
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De Bracy, give it into Brian's hand;
This most concerns him; therefore let him be
Our Temple's champion.
Brian.
I—I lift my hand
Against Rebecca.
Grand Master.
What! dost fear the fight?
Wilt have thy honor stain'd—thy spurs pluck'd from thee,
Thy good spear broken?
Brian.
Give, give me the pledge.
Rebecca.
Where, Ivanhoe—Where art thou now?
Will none,
None of these numbers champion woman's cause?
No—not one. On the wreck alone
I stand in infinite despair; no land
Is near to hope. Yet while mine eye looks out
Upon the endless waste of night, one star,
One little star, unfolds its friendly light,
And I'm not all alone. The dark clouds rise—
Yet the star shines, the only spark of light
In nature's darkness—Faith is that star—
Clasping her hands and looking to Heaven.
Isaac rushes in through the crowd.
Isaac.
I have thee—hold thee to my heart again!
But let me look at thee; art safe? art well?
Has no harm touched thee? Is my flouret whole?
Unhurt?—Unsoil'd?—Pale, pale, but that is little.
Come to my bosom!
Sweet e'en to weeping! Oh, my child! my child!—
Grand Master.
Wonder has held me dumb! What can it be,
A Jew should dare so much?
Isaac.
I had forgot
The letter—I do crave your mercy here.
He takes off his cap and presents the letter.
Grand Master.
From thy hand, infidel?—De Bracy
Give it to us.
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Bless thee, my Rebecca!
A daughter be to thee, as thou hast been
Unto thy father!
Rebecca.
Oh! my father, Oh!
Take thy poor travell'd dove unto thy ark;
She has been forth upon the wat'ry waste
And found no resting place.
Grand Master.
I've read the scroll;
It changes not our judgment; she must die,
Unless her champion prove that judgement false.
Isaac.
Die! wherefore? Heaven! what wrong hath she done
To thee, or to thy people?
Grand Master.
How! dost dare
To bandy words with us? Hence! hence! vile Jew!
Wake not our wrath.
Isaac.
Thy wrath! the savage bear
Will turn upon the huntsman, when her young
Stand in his danger: think ye then the Jew
Less hearted than the bear?—Your pardon Knights,
My age is weak; take ransom for my child;
I was too rash; let money buy her free.
Grand Master.
Not all the money of thy tribe shall do it.
Rebecca.
Tarry not, father: fear thee for thy life.
Grand Master.
Will no one force him hence?
Isaac.
My life! What is't?
Oh, if your thirst must drink up blood, drink mine.
Swill, swill to bursting! Dash against the stones
This crack'd and aged vessel! When I'm gone
I leave no mourner but my daughter here,
And it is fit the young should mourn the old;
So did I mourn my father; so, her child
Should one day mourn for her.
Grand Master.
I tell thee, Jew,
Thy pray'r is fruitless.
Rebecca.
Stay not my father—Oh, thine aged hand
Is all too weak to turn the winged bolt
That, wreath'd in fire, bursts thy feeble guard;
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Its bruis'd and broken fragments.
Isaac.
Be merciful! be just! make not mine age
A stranger in the land. I am a poor
Infirm, heart-broken, man; although a Jew,
No less a man;—your faith denies not that—
Take pity on mine age; blow after blow
Has rain'd upon this head; sometimes I fear
My brain is shaken. Let that pass. Look down—
Behold me in the dust! my tears are few;
But like these few thin hairs, thus show the more
The body's desolation. Youth may weep
Its grief away; but age's sorrow burns:—
Burns—burns, till that which fed it is consum'd.
Rebecca.
Stoop not, my father, to these cruel men.
Grand Master.
Vile jew! thy daughter dies.
Isaac.
She shall not die.
Brian.
By Heaven!
De Bracy.
(aside to him)
You are lost
If once you speak.
Rebecca.
My father, tarry not.
Isaac.
Hear, Heaven! hear—No children have these fiends—
I cannot curse them in their children—else,
Shed madness on them Moon! And thou, O earth,
Let all thy fruits be ashes in their mouths!
Thy cooling waters, fire!—wolves—wolves they are;
Then let them, like wolves, feed upon each other,
The brother on the brother; till, from lack
Of living food, they burst their father's tombs
And prey upon the bodies that begot them!
Grand Master.
Shall I be bearded in my place of pow'r?
Isaac holding his daughter to his breast, and stretching forth his right hand to Heaven.
Isaac.
Ye powers of air!
Come to my breast—and now send forth your storms;
Crush, crush us all to dust! one common tomb!
Wind! lightning! thunder! blow! blaze! and strike!
| The Hebrew | |