Murtzoufle A Tragedy. In three Acts with other Poems |
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| 9. | SCENE IX. |
 | Murtzoufle |  |
SCENE IX.
—A Hall of Judgment.Baldwin seated—Greek Lords standing around—Murtzoufle in chains.
Bald.
Guards, lead him out.
[They are leading out Murtzoufle.
Enter Montmorency, with a drawn sword.
Montm.
(seeing Murtzoufle.)
Earth, bear'st thou yet the monster?
I shall rid thee.
(Offers to strike Murtzoufle, who lifts high his chain'd arms, as if courting the blow.)
No—chain'd? unarm'd?—I wont—I wont, Eudocia.
We'll let him be a spectacle to mobs.—
Now ope thy bloody lips and cry for me,
Baldwin's a villain!—Quick there, find thy sword!
Ay, it is well,—build round thy nest with blades
But this shall reach thee.—
(As he thrusts at Baldwin, the Grecian guards interpose.)
Ha! all potent guards?—
What if I call mine too? Ho! page, a rescue!
Bald.
We are beforehand there too.—Go, bring chains—
This madman here—
Will have all bow before his lordly wrath.
Montm.
What! bind me? surely not?
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This sword shall answer thee.
(He makes another burst at Baldwin, but draws back desperately wounded by the guards.)
Thou devil, Montferrat, where's my score of men—
I owe thee this.—Villain, d'ye think I'm slain?
Not yet!
(He makes another attempt, and receives more wounds.)
(Leaning on his sword.)
Baldwin, I'll down and tell the ghosts of heroes
Ye skulk and dare not meet the swords of men—
O God! is this the battle where men die?
(falls.)
Enter Montferrat in haste.
Montf.
Has no one seen my friend?—
Fell'd to the ground! What thing is this, my Lords?
Methinks the murderer should be down too.
Ho! Knights of France,—revenge! there's murder here!
Now by the holy cross what should this mean?
Baldwin, you hated him,—if you have dar'd
To crop our triumphs thus and smite my friend,
I'll cut thy knees, by Heaven, be they of brass.
Now, ere his life, that darkens in Death's door,
Go into the silent house; answer me—
Give my soul calmness—I shall do a deed else.
Enter Marsas, who, seeing Montmorency, screams, and tearing his robe, tries to cover him.—Montmorency, not yet dead, puts it by.
Mar.
(Looking up to Montferrat.)
And who art thou that o'er this body standst
Seeming to mourn this death? Here's Montmorency—
Why was he slain? was he not gallant youth?
(Flings himself down beside Montmorency.)
Bald.
(To Montf.)
Dost thou presume that I must answer thee?
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Canst thou parade, cold-hearted—in an hour
Whose every moment drops with blood and sorrow?
Bald.
He sought a foe: You too are on his list.
Montf.
(Stooping.)
I'd die, my friend, could you believe me clear
Of aught to move you thus.
Montm.
I die—before—let me be—
(Dies.)
Montf.
Speak,—O speak.
So, so: and this is all of thee, the brave!
Somewhat too rash, perhaps; but great indeed,
Whose honour was a brother to the sun!—
Ye men of Greece, this must be heard aright.
And something more, Baldwin, I have to ask.
Be there who mov'd him thus by injury,
I'll have at him—nay, I shall mark my sword
By little inches,—that man's punishment
Shall not stay at one measure from my hilt.—
Take up that youth—
Let him be buried as the brave should be.
Bald.
Lead on, my lords, we'll answer to their wishes,
Not to their threats.
Montf.
Well then, I trust no cause
Shall keep me here for vengeance 'yond this day;
To-morrow I am bound for Palestine.
Let the brave dead be first—now take the way
To the temple of Saint John.
[Exeunt Attendants bearing the body, Baldwin, Montferrat, &c. behind—Marsas rises slowly and follows.
| Murtzoufle | |