Julian, A Tragedy in Five Acts The Melfi. A Tragedy in Five Acts Mitford, Mary Russell Elisa Beshero-Bondar transcription, structural, and versioning markup to compare manuscript and 1823 publication in 2013 by Megan Hughes Elisa Beshero-Bondar Proofing and corrections by Mary Russell Mitford Society: Digital Mitford Project Elisa Beshero-Bondar First digital edition in TEI, date: 4 June 2015. P5. Digital Mitford: The Mary Russell Mitford Archive Greensburg, PA, USA 2013 Distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License Digital Mitford: The Mary Russell Mitford Archive Mitford’s manuscript as submitted to the Lord Chamberlain’s office on 5 March 1823 from microfiche of the manuscript in the The Lord Chamberlain’s Plays (the Larpent Plays) of 1743-January 1824. Digitized reproduction of the 2nd edition of Julian, A Tragedy in Five Acts by Mary Russell Mitford London G. and W. B. Whittaker, Ave-Maria Lane. 1823 . Digitized by Google Books Feb 23, 2006. Digitized reproduction of the edition produced in the Dramatic Works of 1854.

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To WILLIAM CHARLES MACREADY, Esq. WITH HIGH ESTEEM FOR THOSE ENDOWMENTS WHICH HAVE CAST NEW LUSTRE ON HIS ART; WITH WARM ADMIRATION FOR THOSE POWERS WHICH HAVE INSPIRED, AND THAT TASTE WHICH HAS FOSTERED, THE TRAGIC DRAMATISTS OF HIS AGE; WITH HEARTFELT GRATITUDE FOR THE ZEAL WITH WHICH HE BEFRIENDED THE PRODUCTION OF A STRANGER, FOR THE JUDICIOUS ALTERATIONS WHICH HE SUGGESTED, AND FOR THE ENERGY THE PATHOS AND THE SKILL WITH WHICH HE MORE THAN EMBODIED ITS PRINCIPAL CHARACTER; This Tragedy IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR.
<app><rdg wit="#pub_1823"> ADVERTISEMENT.</rdg></app>

The Story and Characters of the following Tragedy, are altogether fictitious. Annabel’s cautions to silence in the first Scene, and the short dialogue between her and Julian, after he awakens, will be recognised by the classical reader as borrowed from the fine opening of the Orestes of Euripedes; the incident of uncovering the body in the last Act, is also taken from the Electra of Sophocles. Of any other intentional imitation, the Author is unconscious.

She has now the pleasant task of conveying her acknowledgments to the whole of the Performers, for the zealous co-operation which has so much contributed to the success of the Play. To the talents of Miss Foote, Miss Lacy, Mr. Abbott, and Mr. Bennett, she is more especially indebted—and to Mr. Macready beyond all. That it has been honoured by the particular approbation of such a judge, and has given occasion to one of the most splendid exertions of such an Actor, will ever be the proudest distinction of <emph rend="smallcaps">Julian</emph> .

1823 Prologue to the new Tragedy of Julian PROLOGUE, WRITTEN BY A FRIEND. _______ SPOKEN BY MR. CONNOR _______ They They , who in prologues for your favours ask, Find every season more perplex their task; Tho’ Though doubts and hopes, and tremblings do not fail, The points fall flatly, and the rhymes grow stale, Why should the Author hint their fitting parts, In all the pomp of verse Verse to “British Hearts hearts"? Why to such minds as yours with ardour pray, For more than justice to a first essay? What need to shew how absolute your power? What stake awaits the issue of the hour,— How hangs the scale ’twixt agony and joy, What bliss you nourish, or what hopes destroy?— All these you feel;—and yet we scarce can bring A prologue Prologue to— “the posey of a Ring ring" To what may we allude? ?—Our plot untold, Is no great chapter from the times of old; On no august association rests, But seeks its earliest home in kindly breasts; ,— Its scene, as inauspicious to our strain, Is neither mournful Greece, nor kindling Spain, But Sicily—where no defiance hurl’d At freedom’s foes may awe the attending world. But since old forms forbid us to submit A Play, without a Prologue, to the Pit; Lest this be missed by some true friend of plays, Like the dull colleague of his earlier days; Thus let me own how fearlessly we trust That you will yet be mercifully just
Epilogue to the Same. EPILOGUE, WRITTEN BY T.A. TALFOURD, ESQ. _______ SPOKEN BY MRS. CHATTERLEY. _______ Is not her lot intollerably hard, intolerably hard Who does this pious office for the bard Bard? Who comes applauses not her own, to win, To Or pay the penance for another’s sin? To tack, lest gentle moralizers rail, A drawling comment to a doubtful tale; To break with hollow mirth the sacred spell, Which the poor poet rarely weaves too well; Or if his sorrows haplessly are laugh’d at, Look grave for wit to throw his closing shaft at, Methinks our Author’s sex you shrewdly guess— It is a Lady’s Drama—frankly, Yes. Yet, let no censure on her daring fall, When all “life’s Life’s idle business” is—to scrawl; Our tender bosoms learn in song songs to melt, And send their griefs to press—as soon as felt; No thought in lone obscurity decays, But dies away in neatly publish’d lays; No tender hope can bloom and fade unseen, It leaves its fragrance—in a magazine; The bashful heart, whom deep emotions bless, Hides its it’s soft secrets in the daily press; With hints of well-assum’d despair beguiles, And execrates mankind to win their smiles; A woman sure may claim no small compassion, Who has this plea,—she’s only in the fashion. O, if the fair’s prerogative it be, To watch supreme o’er calumny and tea; To slay an Author’s hopes with daintiest sneers, And change the fates of poets, as of peers; Regard not her unwomanly who seeks To draw down sacred tears o’er beauty’s cheeks, Who for her sex, by artless scenes, would keep Its It’s dearest right—to weep with those that weep; Who if, to-night her humble muse hath brought To some sad heart a train of gentle thought, ; On some worn spirit shed that blest relief, A generous sympathy with kindred grief, With joy retires to life’s secluded ways, And asks no recompense of noisier praise.
The Melfi.Julian, A Tragedy Five Acts A Tragedy In Five Acts. BY MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. The Royal Covent Garden SECOND EDITION. LONDON: G. AND W. B. WHITTAKER, AVE-MARIA LANE. 1823. 5th March 1823.—
Sir,

With permission of the Right Honourable, the Lord Chamberlain, this Tragedy will be performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden

I am, Sir, Your very obedt Servt C. Kemble Theatre Royal, Covent Garden March 5th 1823 To J. Larpent Esq=re
Dramatis Personae. CHARACTERS. Alfonso, King of Naples, disguis’d disguised as Theodore. Miss Foote. The Duke of Melfi, Uncle to Alfonso, & and Regent of the Kingdom Mr. Bennett. Julian, Melfi’s son. Mr. Macready. Count D’Alba, a great powerful Nobleman Mr. Abbott. Valore Mr. Baker. Leanti Mr. Egerton. Calvi Mr. Chapman. Sicilian Nobles. Renzi , an old Huntsman. Paolo, Julian’s servant Mr. Ley. Bertone, Servant to Count D’Alba Mr. Comer. Renzi , an old Huntsman. Mr. Mears. An Abbot Nobles Prelates Guards &c. An Archbishop. Nobles, Prelates, Officers, Guards, Murderers, &c. Annabel Julian’s wife Miss Lacy.

The scene is in and near Messina. The Time of Action, two days. The Scene is in and near Messina; the time of action two days.

JULIAN.
Act 1:I.
Scene 1: An Elegant apartment in the royal palace. The windows opening on a Balcony, adorned with flowers.An Apartment in the Royal Palace. Julian sleeping on a couch—Annabel An Apartment in the Royal Palace. Julian sleeping on a Couch. Annabel. Annab. No,; still he sleeps—! ’Twas but the myrtle bud Tapping against the casement, as the wind Stirred in the leafy branches. Well he loved That pleasant bird-like sound, which, as a voice SummonedSummon’d us forth into the fresher air Of eve, or early morn. Ah! when again— And yet his sleep is hopeful. For seven nights He had not tasted slumber. Who comes here? Enter Alfonso, (as Theodore) as Theodore The gentle page! Alas! To wake him now! Hush, Theodore! Tread softly—softlier, boy! Alfon- Doth he still sleep? Annab. Speak lower. Alfon Doth he sleep? Annab Come this way, Theodore! Here, close to me Avoid the couch; come this way; close to me. He sleeps. He hath not mov’dmoved in all the hours That thou hast been away. Alfon. Then we may hope, Dear lady, we may hope! Annab. Alas! Alas! See how he lies, scarce breathing. Whilst I hung Over his couch, I should have thought him dead, but for his short and frequent sighs. Alfon Ah me! Not even in slumber can he lose the sense Of that deep misery. Andmisery; and I—he wakes! Dost thou not see the quivering mantle heave With sudden motion? Annab. Thou hast wakened him. Thy clamorous grief hath roused him. Hence! bBegone! Leave me! Alfon. And yet his eyes are closed. He sleeps. He did but move his hand. Annab. How changed he is! How pale! hHow wasted! Can one little week Of pain and sickness so have faded thee, My princely Julian! But eight days ago There lived not in this gladsome Sicily So glad a spirit. Voice, and step, and eye, All were one happiness,; till that dread hour, When, drest in sparkling smiles, radiant and glowing, With tender thoughts, he flew to meet the King And his great father. He went forth alone,; Frenzy and grief came back with him. Annab. Alf. And I, Another grief. Annab. Thou wast a comforter. All stranger as thou art, hast thou not shared My watch as carefully, as faithfully, As I had been thy sister? Aye, and he If ever in this wild mysterious woe One sight or sound hath cheered him, it hath been A glance, a word of thine. Alf. He knows me not. Ann. He knows not me. Alfon. I never heard before That ’twas to meet the kKing thatyon fatal night,— Knowingly, purposely!— How could he guess That they should meet? What moved him to that thought? Annab. Stranger, altho’although thou be, thou can’stcanst but know Prince Julian’s father is the regent here, And rules for his young kinsman, King Alfonso. King Alfonso! Alfon. Aye!-- for Alfonso? Aye—Poor Alfonso! Annab. WhereWherefore pity him? Alfon. I know not; —but I am an Oorphan too.! I interrupt thee, Llady. Annab. Yet, in truth, A gentle pity lingers round the name Of King Alfonso, orphaned, as thou say’st, And drooping into sickness, when he lost His father—E, ever since, the mournful boy Hath dwelt in the Villa d’Oro. Alf. Hast thou seen him? Annab. The King? No— I’m of Naples. When Prince Julian First brought me here, a bride, his royal cousin Was fixed beside his father’s dying bed. I never saw him,: yet I know him well,; For I have sate, and listenedlisten’d, hour by hour, To hear my husband speak of the fair princePrince, And his excelling virtues. Alf. Did he? Ah!—Ah!-- But ’twas his wont, talking of those he loved, To gild them with the rich, and burnishedburnish’d glow Of his own brightness, as the evening sun Decks all the clouds in glory. Annab. Very dear Was that young boy to Julian—’twas. ’Twas a friendship, Fonder than common, blended with a kind Protecting tenderness; such as brother MightlyMight fitly shew unto the younger born. Alfon. Oh!, he hath proved it. Annab. Thou dost know them both? Alfon. I do. Say on, dear Llady. Annab. Three weeks since, The Duke of Melfi went to bring his ward Here to Messina.— Alfon. To be crowned. They came not. But wherefore went Prince Julian forth to meet them? Annab. Father nor cousin came, nor Messenger; nor messenger, From Regent or from King; and Julian chafed, And fretted at delay. At length, a peasant, No liveried groom; a slow foot-pacing serf, Brought tidings that the royal two, that morn Left Villa d’Oro. Glowing from the chace,chase Prince Julian stood, the bridle in his hand, New lighted, soothing now his prancing steed. And prattling now to me. He heard the tale, And prattling now to me;— for I was still So foolish fond to fly into the porch To meet him, when I heard the quick sharp tread Of that bright Arab, whose proud step I knew Even as his master’s voice. He heard the tale And instant sprang again into his seat, Wheeled round, and darted off at such a pace As the fleet greyhound, at her speed, could scarce Have matched. He spake no word; but as he passed, He spake no word; but, as he passed, Just glanced back at me, with his gladsome dancing eyes, And such a smile of joy, and such a wave Of his plumed bonnet— ! His return thou know’st. Alfon. I was itshis wretched partner. Annab. He on foot, Thou on the o’er travell’d horse;o’er-travelled horse, slow, yet all stained With sweat, and panting, as if fresh escaped From hot pursuit; and how he called for wine For his poor Theodore, his faithful page!; Then sate him down, and shook with the cold fit Of anguish fever, till the strong couch rocked Like a child’s cradle. There he sate and sighed,sigh’d; And then the frenzy came. Theodore! Alfon. Lady! Annab. He utters nought but madness; ;—yet sometimes, Athwart his ravings, I have thought—I have feared— Theodore, thou must know the cause? Alfon. Too well. Annab. Oh, tell me.— Alfon. Hush! hHe wakes!. Alfonso retires behind the couch, out of Julian’s sight. Annab. Going to Julian, whilst Alfonso keeps behind the couch, out of his sight Julian! dear Julian!Julian! Dear Julian! Julian Sure I have slept a long, long while! Where am I? How came I hither? Whose kind hand is this? My Annabel! Annab. Oh, what a happiness To see thee gently wake from gentle sleep! Art thou not better? Shall I raise thee up? Julian Aye, dearest. Have I, then been ill? I’m weak, I trouble thee, my sweet one. Annab. ’Tis a joy To minister unto thee. Julian Wipe my brow,. And part these locks, that the fresh air may cool My forehead—Feel,; feel; it burns. Annab. Alas! how wild This long neglect hath made thy glossy curls!, How tangled! Julian I am faint. Pray, lay me down. Surely the day is stifling Annab. There.— Good boy. Throw wide the casement. Doth not the soft breeze Revive thee? Julian I am better. I will rise. So, dear wife, Yes. I’m better. I will rise. Raise me again;—more upright;— So! Dear wife, A sick man is as wayward as a child; Forgive me. I have I been long ill. Have I been long ill? Annab. A week. Julian I have no memory of aught. ’Tis just Like waking from a dream,; a horrible Confusion of strange miseries,; crime and blood, And all I love.— Great hHeaven, how clear it seems! How like a truth! I thought that I rode forth On my white Barbary horse. —Say, did I ride Alone that day? Annab. Yes. Julian. Did I? Could I? No. Thou dost mistake. I did not. Yet, ’tis strange How plain that horror lives within my brain, As what hath been. Annab. Forget it. Julian. Annabel, I thought I was upon that gallant steed At his full pace. Like clouds before the wind We flew, as easily as the strong bird That soars nearest the sun, till,; till in a pass, Between the mountains, screams and cries forof help Rang in mine ears, and I beheld—O heav’nGod! It was not—could not—no! no!Could not—No. I have been sick Of a sharp fever, and delirium shews, And to the bodily sense makes palpable, Unreal forms, objects of sight and sound, Which have no being, save in the burning brain Of the poor sufferer. Why should it shake me?! Annab. Could’st thou walk to the window, and quaff down The fragrant breeze, it would revive thee more Than food or sleep. Forget these evil dreams. Can’st thou not walk? Julian. I’ll try. Annab. Lean upon me, And Theodore. Approach dear boy; support him. Alfonso approaches Julian Julian. Eyeing himseeing Alfonso Ha! art thou there? Thou? I am blinded. dazzled.Art thou here? Thou! I am blinded, dazzled! Is this a vision?, this fair shape, that seems A living child? Do I dream now? Annab. He is Young Theodore, the. The page, who that sad night Returned.— Julian. Then, all is real. Lay me down, That I may die Alfon. Alas! I feared too surely That when he saw me,— Annab. Julian! This is grief, Not sickness,. Julian! Alfon. Rouse him not, dear Llady! See how his hands are clenched!--. Waken him not To frenzy! Oh,. Oh that I alone could bear This weight of misery!. Annab. He knows the cause, And I— It is my right, my privilege To share thy woes, to soothe them. I’ll weep with thee, And that will be a comfort. Did’st thou think Thou could’st be dearer to me than before, When thou wast well and happy? But thou art Now. Tell me this secret. Oh, spare my heart I’ll be faithful, I’ll never breathe a word.—Oh, Oh spare my heart This agony of doubt! What was the horror horror That maddened thee? Julian. Within the rifted rocks Of high Albano, rotting in a glen, Dark, dark at very noon, a father lies Murdered by his own son. Annab. And thou did’st see The deed! An awefulawful sight to one so good! Yet— Julian. Birds obscene, and wolf, and ravening fox, Ere this— only the dark hairs on the ground. And the brown crusted blood! And she can ask Why I am mad! Annab. Oh! a thrice awefulawful night To one so duteous! Holy priests should lave With blessed water that foul spot, and thou, Pious and pitying, thou shalt— Julian. Hear at once, Innocent torturer; that, drop by drop,Torturer, that drop by drop Pour’st moultenmolten lead into my wounds, that—that glen— Hang not upon me!—In that darksome glen My father lies. I am a murderer!, A parricide! Accurst of god and man!, accurst of God and man. Let go my hand. Purest! purest and whitest saint, Let go.! Annab. This is a madness. Even now The fever shakes him. Julian. Why, the mad are happy.! Annabel, this is a soul-slaying truth. There stands a witness. Alfon. Julian knew him not. It was to save a life, a worthless life!. Oh, that I had but died beneath the sword Which seemed to tremble!That seemed so terrible! That I had ne’er Been born to grieve thee, Julian! Pardon me, Dear Llady, pardon me! Annab. Oh, gentle boy, How shall we soothe this grief? Alfon. Alas,! alas! Why did he rescue me?! I’m a poor orphan; None would have wept for me.; I had no friend In all the world, but one.save one. I had been reared. In simpleness; a quiet grave had been A fitter home for me than the rude world; A mossy heap, no stone, no epitaph, Save the brief words of grief and praise (for Grief Is still a Praiser) he perchance had spoke When they first told him the poor boy was dead. Shame on me, that I shunned the sword.! Julian. By heavenHeaven, It could not be a crime to save thee! Kneelkneel Before him, Annabel. He is the King.king Annab. Alfonso!? Alfon. Aye, so please you, fairest Cousin, But still your servant. Do not hate me, lLady, Tho’Though I have caused this misery. We have shared One care, one fear, one hope; have watched &, have watched and wept Together! Oh,Together. Oh how often I have longed, As we sate silent by his restless couch, To fall upon thy neck, and mix our fears tears, And talk of him. I am his own poor Cousin. Thou wilt not hate me.? Annab. Save that lost one, who Could hate such innocence? Julian. ’Twas not in hate, But wild ambition. No ignoble sin Dwelt in his breast. Ambition, mad ambition, That was his iIdol. To that bloody god He offered up the milk whitemilk-white sacrifice, The pure, unspotted vVictim. And even then, Even in the crime, without a breathing space For penitence, or prayer, my sword—Alfonso, Thou would’st have gone to hHeaven. Annab. Art thou certain That he is dead? Julian. I saw him fall. The ground Was covered with his blood. Annab. Tell me the tale. Did’st thou— I would not wantonly recall That scene of anguish. —Did’st thou search his wound? Julian. Annabel, in my eyes that scene will dwell For ever, shutting out all lovely sights, Even thee, my Beautiful! That torturing thought Will burn, a living fire within my breast, Perpetually; words can nothing add, And nothing take away. Fear not my frenzy; I am calm now. Thou know’st how buoyantly I darted from the straight,thee, straight o’er vale &and hill, Counting the miles by minutes. At the pass Between the Albano mountains, I first breathed A moment my hot steed, expecting still To see the royal escort. Afar off, As I stood, shading with my hand my eyes, I thought I saw them; when, at once, at once I heard From the deep glen, east of the pass, loud cries Of mortal terror. Even in agony I knew the voice, and darting thro’through the trees. I saw Alfonso, prostrate on the ground, Clinging around the knees of one, who held A dagger over him, in act to strike, Yet, with averted head, as if he feared To see his innocent victim. His own face Was hidden. ; till at one spring I plunged my sword, Into his side; then our eyes met, and he— That was the mortal blow! —screamed and stretched out His hands. Falling and dying as he was, He half rose up, hung speechless in the air, And looked—Oh what had been the bitterest curse To such a look! It smote me like a sword! Here, here, he . He died. Annab. And thou—? Julian. I could have lain In that dark glen for ever; but there stood The dear-bought and the deardear-bought, and the dear, kinsman and prince And friend. We heard the far-off clang of steeds And armed men, and fearing some new foe, Came homeward. Annab. And did he, then, the unhappy, Remain upon the ground? Julisn. Alas! he did. Annab. Oh! it was but a swoon. Listen, dear Julian, I tell thee, I have comfort. Julian. There is none Left in the world. But I will listen to thee, My fFaithfullest. Annab. Count D’Alba sent to crave An audience. Thou wast sleeping. I refused To see him; but his messenger revealed To Constance his high tidings, which she poured In my unwilling ears;, for I so feared To wake thee, that ere half her tale was told I chid her from me. Yet; yet she surely said The Duke, thy father— Julian. What? Annab. Approached the city. Julian. Alive? Alive? Oh! no!Oh no! no! no! Dead! Dead! The corse! the clay cold, the clay-cold corse! Annab. Alive, I think; But Constance— Julian.Alf. He will sink under this shock Of hope. Annab. Constance heard all. Julian. Constance! What ho!, Constance! Annab. She hears thee not. Julian. Go seek her,—fly! Fly! If he’s alive, why—Why art thou not returned?, When that one little word will save two souls?! Exit Annabel. Alfon. Take patience, dearest cousin.Cousin! Julian. Do I not stand Here, like a man of marble? Do I stir? She creeps; she creeps. Thou would’st have gone and back In half the time. Alfon. Nay, nay, ’tis scarce a minute. Julian. Thou may’st count hours and ages on my heart.— Is she not coming? Alfon. Shall I seek her? Julian. Hark! They’ve met. There are two steps; two silken gowns Rustling,; one whispering voice. Annabel! Constance!. Is he—one word!— Only one word! Enter Annabel. Annab. He lives!. Julian sinks on his knees before the couch. Alfonso & Annabel go to him. Scene drops. Julian sinks on his knees before the couch; Alfonso and Annabel go to him, and the scene falls. End of the First Act.
Act 2d.II.
Scene 1 A splendid Hall of Audience in the Royal Palace.royal Palace, magnificently decorated. D’Alba and Bertone, entering.D’Alba and Bertone. D’Alba. Again refuse to see me! Bert. Nay, my lord, She’s still beside her husband’s couch, and Paolo Refused to bear the message. D’Alba. Even her lacquey Reads my hot love, and her contempt!. No matter.! How’s Julian? Bert. Mending fast. D’Alba. He’ll live! He’ll live! She watches over him, making an air With her sweet breath. He’ll breath;—he’ll be immortal! Yet If that dark tale be true, or half. —or half—Bertone, Haste to the court of guard. SeekCourt of Guard; seek Juan Castro, A Spanish soldier. Lead; lead him home. I’ll join ye. Hence! I expect the Barons, whom I summoned To meet me here. Come back!. See if the Princess Will now admit me. No!—’Twould ’twould wake suspicion. Hence to the Court of Guard! Exit Bertone I think that scorn Doth fan love more than beauty. Twice to-day Have I paced patiently these royal halls, Like some expecting needy courtier. Swell not, Proud charmer, thy vast debt! Where lag these Barons? Methinks this change might rouse— Enter Calvi, followed by other LordsNobles. Ha, Calvi! Welcome.Ha! Calvi, welcome. Calvi. A fair good morrow, D’Alba.! D’Alba. Hast thou heard These heavy tidings? The young king.King— Meeting the other lords, as they drop inApproaching to meet the other Lords as they enter. My Lords, Good morrow’s out of date!. Know ye the news? So men salute to-day. Calvi. Alfonso’s dead!--Alfonso dead? D’Alba. Murdered!. Calvi. And Melfi, King?And Melfi King. D’Alba. Giving a Letter Aye, here’s a letter from the great regent.—Aye, here’s a letter.giving a letter to Calvi. Pshaw! How my rude tongueFrom the great Regent—Pshaw! how my rude tongue Stumbles at these new dignities! The !--the King. Therefore I summoned ye. He will be here Anon. Enter Valore and other Nobles. Valore, thou art late. Valore. This tale Puts lead into men’s heels. How fell it? D’Alba. Read,! Count Calvi! Read! Calvi. reads

Alfonso being dead, and I hurt almost to death, they left me fainting on the ground, where I lay, till a poor, but honest, muleteer bore me to his hut.—-

He hath been wounded! D’Alba. He’s alive. The boy only,He’s alive. The boy! Only the pretty boy! Read on. Read on!. Calvi. reads

Make known these missives to our loyal people. We shall follow them straight. From your loving cousin, "The King.""The King."

The King! Valore. The King. How he will wear his state!How proudly he will wear his state. Why, D’Alba, Thy worshipped Annabel chose well. She’ll; she’ll be A Queen. D’Alba. Yet, my poor title, had she graced it, Comes by unquestionedunquestion’d sheer descent, unstainedunstain’d By dark, mysterious murder. My good Fathers,fathers— Heaven rest their souls! lie—lie safely in the churchyard, A simple race! Whilst; whilst these high pPrinces—Sirs, These palace walls have echoes, or I’d tell ye,— ’Tis a deep riddle—, but amongst them all The pretty boy is dead. Enter Leanti Leanti! Leanti. Lords, The King is at the gate. D’Alba. The King! Now, Sirs, Don your quick smiles, and bend your supple knees.;— The King! Enter Melfi. aside He’s pale,—he, he hath been hurt.aloud My liege, Your vassals bid you welcome. Melfi. Noble Signors, I greet you well. Thanks, D’Alba. Good Leanti I joy to see those reverend locks. I never Thought to behold a friendly face again. And now I bring ye sorrow. Death hath been Too busy, tho’; though the ripe and bearded ear EscapedEscap’d his sickle—but ye know the tale; Ye welcomed me as King,; and I am spared The painful repetition. Valore. Sire, we know, From your own royal hand enough for joy And sorrow. Death hath ta’en a goodly boy,child And spared a glorious man. But how— Melfi. My lord, What wouldst thou more? Before I entered here, Messina’s general voice had hailed her Sovereign,. Lacks but the ceremonial form. ’Twere best Th’The accustomed pageant were performed even now, Whilst ye, Sicilian Barons, strength &and grace Of our Sicilian realm, are here to pledge Solemn allegiance. Say I sooth, Count D’Alba? D’Alba. In sooth my liege, I know not. Seems to me One form is wanting. Our bereaved state Stands like a widow, one eye dropping tears, For her lost lord, the other turned with smiles On her new bridegroom. But even she, the Dame Of Ephesus, the buxom relict, famed For quick dispatch o’er every widowed mate, Woman or state, —even she, before she wed, Saw the good man entombed. The funeral first,Funeral first; And then the coronation!Coronation. Melfi. Scoffer! Lords, The corse is missing. Calvi. Ha! perchance he lives.Perchance he lives? Melfi. He fell, I tell thee. Valore. And the Assassin is?—And the Assassin? Melfi. He escapedHe When I, too, fell.Escaped, when I too fell. D’Alba. He! Why, my liege, Was there but one? Melfi. What mean ye, Sirs? Stand off!. D’Alba. Cannot your Highness guess the murderer? Melfi. Stand from about me, Lords! Dare ye to front A King? What d’yedo ye doubt me,; you, or you? Dare ye to doubt me? Dare ye look a question Into mine eyes? Take thy gaze off! A kingKing Demands a modester regard. Now, Sirs, What do ye seek? I tell ye, the fair boy Fell underneath the Assassin’s sword,assassin’s sword; and I, Wounded almost to death, am saved to prove My subjects’ faith, to punish, to reward, To reign, I tell ye, nobles. Now, who questions? Who glares upon me now? What,What! are ye mute? Leanti. Deign to receive our homage, Sire, and pardon The undesigned offence. Your highnessHighness knows Count D’Alba’s mood. Melfi. And he knows mine. Well! Well! Be all these heats forgotten. A pause, during which, Melfi looks round the circle Calvi. to D’Alba How his eye Wanders around the circle!. Melfi. Ye are met, Barons of Sicily, in such august And full assemblage, as may well beseem Your office;, honour well yourselves and me; Yet one is missing,—greatest, first and best,— My son. Knows not Prince Julian, that his father Is here? Will he not come? Go, some one say That I would see him. Exit Calvi Valore. Sire, the Prince hath lain Sick of a desperate malady. Melfi. Alas! And I—sick, did’stSick didst thou say? Valore. Eight days have passed Since he hath left his couch. Leanti. He’s better now. The gentle princess, who,Princess, who with one young page Hath tended him— Melfi. What page? Leanti. A stranger boy, Seen but of few, young Theodore. Melfi. A stranger! Say on. The princess—Princess—? Leanti. As I crossed the hall, I met her, with her own glad step, her look Of joy, and when I asked how fared prince Julian,; and when I asked how fared Prince Julian? She put her white hands into mine, with such A smile, and then passed on—. Melfi. Without a word? Leanti. Without a word, save the mute eloquence Of that bright smile. D’Alba.aside Oh! ’twas enough! On him!Oh ’twas enough! on him! Smile on that dotard! Whilst I. —aloud Why, my lords, Here’s a fine natural sympathy,; the son Sickens at the father’s wound! The very day,—! The very hour.! He must have known the deed;— Perchance, he knows the Assassin.assassin— Melfi. Stop!. D’Alba. My liege, I speak it in his honorhonour. Many an heir Had been right glad to step into a throne Just as the mounting pulse of youth beat high.;— A soldier, too! Andand with a bride so fair, So delicate, so fashioned for a Queen By cunning nature. But he—for full surely He knew— Melfi. Stop—no, no, no—Stop. No, no, no, he knew it not! He is my son!. Enter Calvi, follow’dfollowed by Julian. Calvi. My liege, the Prince,—! Melfi. Already! Pardon me, good my lords, that I request A moment’s loneliness. We have been near To death since last—Have touched upon the grave—, And there are thoughts, which only our own hearts Should hear. I pray ye, pardon me. I’ll join ye Within the hour for the procession. Exeunt D’Alba, Leanti, Valore, Calvi &c. Melfi. Julian! Approach! Come nearer! Speak to me! Julian. My lord! Melfi. Has he forgot to call me father? Julian. Father! Melfi. I know what thou would’st say.. The hat And sable plumes concealed—No more of it. Julian. What would’st thou? Thou didst summon me. Melfi. I did. Thou hast been ill. Jul. Oh, Father! Melfi. Rise, my son. Let us forget What—How is Annabel? They say she has been A faithful nurse. Thou hast been sick? Julian. I’m well. Melfi. Fie! when thou shakesttremblest so. Julian. I’m well. Call not these thoughts again—I have been Sick, brainsick, heartsick, mad! But that is past!. I thought—I feared— It was a foretaste of the pains of hHell To be so mad, and yet retain the sense Of that, which made me so. But all is past,But thou art here, Is it not, father? Ne’er to live again,And I—Oh nothing but a father’s heart Even in a dream. Is it not past?Could ever have forgiven! Melfi. No more.No more. No more! Thou hast not told me of thy wife. They say. She has been a constant nurse to thee. Julian. My lord,She waits She, and one other—Oh that I might tell The story of their goodness! She attends To pay her duty.. Melfi. Stay!. Count D’Alba looked With evil eyes upon thee, and on me Cast his accustomed tauntings. Is there aught Amiss between ye? Julian. No. Melfi. He hath not yet Perhaps forgotten your long rivalry For Annabel’s fair hand. A dangerous meaning Lived in those bitter gibes; aLurked in those bitter gibes. A dangerous foe Were D’Alba. Julian, the sea-breezesea breeze to thee Brings health and strengthhealth, and strength, and joy. I have an errand As far as Madrid. None so well as thou Can bid it speed. There shalt away to-day.to day;— Tis thy best medicine—Thou and thy young wife—’Tis thy best medicine;—thou and thy young wife. The wind is fair. Julian. To-day!To day! Melfi. Have I not said? Julian. Send me, just risen from a sick couch, just risen from a sick couch to Madrid! LeadSend me from home, from thee! Banish me! Father, Can’st thou not bear my sight? Melfi. I cannot bear Contention. Must I needs remind thee, Julian, I have also been ill? Julian. I’ll go to-dayto day. How pale he is.! I had not dared before To look upon his face. I’ll go to-dayto day. Melfi. This very hour? Julian. This very hour. Melfi. My son,! Now call thy—Yet a moment—Where’s the boy?yet a moment. Where’s the boy— He shall aboard with thee—thy pretty page!? Julian. The king! Mean’st thou the king?The King? Mean’st thou the King? Melfi. He, whom thou call’st— Julian. Wilt thou not say the kKing? Melfi. Young Theodore. Harken, prince Julian. I am glad, right glad,Hearken, Prince Julian! I am glad, right glad Of what hath chanced. ’Twas well to bring him hither, And keep him at thy side. He shall away To Spain with thee, that Theodore—Forget All other titles. He’ll be glad of this. A favorite page, a spoilt & petted boyA favourite page, a spoilt and petted boy, To lie in summer gardens, in the shade Of orange groves, whose pearly blossoms fall Amidst his clustering curls, and to his lute Sing tenderest ditties—such his happy lot.,—such his happy lot; Whilst I—go,Go, bring thy wife. Julian. He is the kKing. Melfi. Call lady Annabel. Julian. The king, I say!King, I say, The rightful king! The only king!King, the only King! I’ll shed The last drop in my veins for king Alfonso!King Alfonso. Melfi. Once I forgave thee. But to beard me thus, And for a weak, and peevish youth, a faintling, A boy of a girl’s temper,; one who shrinks Trembling and crouching at a look, a word, A lifted finger, like a beaten hound!. Julian. Alas! poor boy,! he hath no other friend, Since thou, who should’st defend him,—Father! Father!Father, Father, Three months have scarcely passed since thy dear brother, (Oh, surely thou loved’st him!) with the last words He ever spake, besought thy guardian care Of his fair child. Next upon me he turned, His dying eyes, quite speechless then, and thou,— I could not speak, for poor Alfonso threw Himself upon my breast, with such a gustgush Of natural grief, I had no utterance— But thou didst vow for both protection, faith, Allegiance; thou did’st swear so fervently, So deeply, that the Spirit flew to heavenspirit flew to Heaven Smiling—. I’ll keep that oath. Melfi. Even if again—Even if again thy sword— Julian. Urge not that thought uponon me. ’Tis a fire Here in my heart; my brain. Bethink thee, father,, my brain. Bethink thee, Father, Soldier, StatesmanSoldier or statesman, thine is the first name Of Sicily, the General, Regent, Prince, The unmatched in power, the unapproached in fame,—The unmatch’d in power, the unapproach’d in fame; What could that little word a kKing do more For thee? Melfi. That little word! Why thatthat is fame, And power, and glory! That shall fill the world, Lend a whole age its name, and float along The Stream of Timestream of time, with such a buoyancy, As shall endure when palaces and tombs Are swept away like dust. That little word! Beshrew thy womanish heart, that cannot feel Its spell! Guns withoutGuns and shouts are heard without. Hark! Hark! The Guns! I feel it nowguns! I feel it now. I am proclaimed. Before I entered here, ’Twas known throughout the Citycity that I lived, And the boy-king was dead. Hark! King Rugiero. Guns, bells, and shouts again. Hark, King Rugiero! Dost hear the bells, the shouts? Oh, ’tis a proud, And glorious feeling thus at once to live Within a thousand bounding hearts, to hear The strong out-gushing of that present fame, For whose uncertain dim futurity Men toil, and slay, and die! Without a crime— I thank thee still for that—without a crime,—Without a crime— For he’ll be happier,—I am a king!—I am a King. Shouts again. Dost thou not hear, Long live the King, Rugeiro! Long live the King Rugiero? Julian. The shout is weak. Melfi. Augment it by thy voice. Would the words choake Prince Julian? Cannot he Wish long life to his fFather? Julian. Live, my fFather! Long live the Duke of Melfi! Melfi. Live the King! Julian. Long live the king,King Alfonso! Melfi. Now, by hHeaven, Thou art still brainsick. There is a contagion In the soft dreamy nature of that child, That thou, a soldier—I was over proudoverproud Of thee, and thy young fame, that. That lofty brow Seemed madeSeem’d form’d to wear a crown. Chiefly for thee— Where is the pPage? Julian. Oh fFather, once again Take pity on us all! For me! For me! Thou hast always been to me the kindest, fondest,— Preventing all my wishes— I’ll not reason, I’ll not contend with thee. Here at thy feet, Prostrate in spirit, as in form, I cry For mercy! Save me from despair,! from sin! Melfi. Unmanly, rise! Llest in that slavish posture I treat thee as a slave. Julian. Smite an thou wilt,Strike an thou wilt, Thy words strike deeper, to the very core.pierce deeper, to the very core! Smite an thou wilt, but hear me. Oh my father,Strike an thou wilt; but hear me. Oh my Father, I do conjure thee, by that name, by all The boundless love it guerdons, spare my soul This bitterness.! Melfi. I’ll reign. Julian. Aye, reign, indeed!reign indeed; Reign over mightier realms! Be conquerorRule over mightier realms; be conqueror Of crowned passions! King of thy own mind!Of crowned passions; king of thy own mind. I’ve ever loved thee as a son,—Do this,, do this And I shall worship thee. I will cling to thee!; Thou shalt not shake me off!. Melfi. Go to—Thou’rt mad!; thou art mad. Julian. Not yet; but thou may’st make me so. Melfi. I’ll make thee The heir of a fair crown. Julian. Not all the powers Of all the earth can force upon my brow That heritage of guilt. Cannot I die? But that were happiness! I’d make theerather drag. I’d rather drag A weary life, beneath the silent rule Of the stern Trappist, digging my own grave;, Myself a living corse, cut off from the sweet, And natural kindness that man shews to man,; I’d rather hang, a hermit, on the steep Of horrid Ætna, between snow and fire,Of horrid Etna, between snow and fire; Rather than sit, a crowned and honoured prince,a crown’d and honour’d prince Guarded by children, tributaries, friends, On an Uusurper’s throne. Shouts and guns withoutGuns without. Melfi. I must away. We’ll talk of this anon. Where is the boy?. Julian. Safe. Melfi. Trifle not with my impatience, Julian.; Produce the child. HoweverHowe’er thou may deny Allegiance to the king, obey thy father. Julian. I had a father. Melfi. Ha! Julian. But he gave up Faith, loyalty, & honorand honour, and pure fame, And his own son. Melfi. My son! Julian. I loved him once, And dearly. Still too dearly! But with all That burning, aching, passionate old love Wrestling within my breast, even face to face,; even face to face; Those eyes upon me,; and that trembling hand Thrilling my very heartstrings—Take it off,! In mercy, take it off! Still I renounce thee,!--Still I renounce thee. Thou hast no son—IThou hast no son. I have no father. Go Down to a childless grave. Melfi. Even from the grave A father’s curse may reach thee, clinging to thee, Cold as a dead man’s shroud, shadowing thy days, Haunting thy dreams, and hanging, a thick cloud, ’Twixt thee and heaven. Then when,Heaven. Then, when perchance thine own Small prattling pretty ones shall climb thy knee, And bid thee bless them, think of thy dead father, And groan, as thou dost now. Guns again. Hark! ’tis the hour! I must away. Back to thy chamber, son, And chuse if I shall curse thee. ExitExit Melfi. Julian. after a pause Did he curse me? Did he? Am I that withered, blasted wretch? Is that the fire that burns my brain? not yet,—Not yet! Oh, do not curse me yet—yet! He’s gone. The boy! The boy! ExitRushes out. End of Act 2d. END OF THE SECOND ACT
Act 3d.ACT III
Scene 1SCENE. The interior of a magnificent Cathedral. A Gothic Monument in the foreground, with steps round it, and the figure of an old Warrior on the top, A Magnificent Cathedral. A Gothic Monument in the Foreground, with Steps round it, and the Figure of an old Warrior on the top. D’Alba, Leanti, Valore, Calvi, and other nobles. Calvi. Where stays the kKing? Leanti He’s robing, to assume The Crown. Calvi. What a gloom reigns in the Cathedral! Where are the people, who should make and grace This pageant? Valore. ’Tis too sudden. D’Alba. Saw ye not How coldly, as the slow procession moved, Men’s eyes were fixed upon him? Silently We passed amid dull silence. I could hear The chink of money, which the Hheralds flung, Reverberate on the pavement. They, who stooped To gather up the coin, looked on the impress Of young Alfonso, sighed, and shook their heads As ’twere his funeral. Calvi. Methinks this place, The general tomb of his high like,line doth cry Shame on us! The mute citizens do mourn him Better than we. D’Alba Therefore the gates are closed, And none but peers of Sicily may pass The guarded doors.. Leanti. Where is Prince Julian? D’Alba. Sick. Here comes the mighty-one, and the great prelates,Mighty One, and the great Prelates That shall anoint his haughty brow; ’tis bent With a stern joy.. Enter Nobles, Bishops, Abbots &c. in procession. An Abbot, bearing the crown, and lastly Melfi, in royal robes. Enter Melfi, in Royal Robes, preceded by Nobles, Officers, &c. bearing the Crown, Archbishop, Bishops, &c. Melfi. No! To no tapered shrine.! Here! This is my Altar; Here, reverend Fathers, here! This is my altar: The tomb of my great ancestor, who first Won from the Paynim this Sicilian crown, And wore it gloriously; whose name I bear, As I will bear his honouredhonour’d sceptre. Here, At this most kingly Aaltar, will I plight My vow to Sicily, the nuptial vow That links my fate to her’s. Here I’ll receive Her Barons’ answering faith. Hear me, thou shade Of great Rugiero, whilst I swear to guard, With heart and hand, the realm thy valour won, The laws thy wisdom framed—brave legacy To prince and people! to defend their rights;, To rule in truth and justice, peacefully, If peace may be; and with the aweful arm Of lawful power to sweep the oppressor off From thy blest Isle; to be the peasants’ king,—Peasants’ King— Nobles, hear that!--the peasant’s king and yours’Peasants’ King and yours! Look down, ancestral spiritAncestral Spirit, on my oath, And sanctify and bless it! Now the crown. D’Alba. What noise is that at the gate? Melfi. Crown me, I say. Archb. ’Tis fallen! Save us from the ill omen! Melfi. Save us From thy dull hands, old dotard! Thou a Priest, And tremble at the touch of power! Give me The crown. D’Alba It fits thee not. Melfi. Give me the crown, And with a steady grasp it shall endue These throbbing brows, that burn till they are bound With that bright diadem. Enter Julian quickly hurrying Alfonso along. Enter Julian and Alfonso. Julian Stop! Place it here.Stop. Place it here! This is the King,! the real, the only King! The living King Alfonso! Melfi. Out, foul traitor! ’Tis an impostor. Julian. Look on him, Count D’Alba! Calvi, Valore, look! Ye know him well. And ye, that never saw him, know ye not His father’s lineaments? Remove thy hand From that fair forehead. ’Tis the pallid brow Bent with pensiveness, the dropping eye-lid, The womanish changing cheek,—his very self! Look on him. Do ye know him? Do ye own Your King? Calvi. ’Tis he! . D’Alba The boy himself.! Julian. Now place The crown upon his head, and hear me swear; and hear me swear Low at his feet, as subject, kinsman, pPrince, Allegiance. Alfon. Rise, dear Cousin. Julian. Father, kneel, Kneel here with me, thou, his first subject, thou, The guardian of the state, kneel first, and vow Thy princely fealty. Melfi. Hence, abject slave! And thou, young minion— Julian. to Alf. Fear not. Father, kneel! Look where thou art. This is no place, my lord, To dally with thy duty: underneath Thy fathers’ sleep; above their banners wave Heavily. Death is round about us. Death And Fame. Have they no voice for thee? Not one, Of one long storied line but lived and died A pure and faithful Knight, and left his son Honour—proud heritage! I am thine heir, And I demand that bright inheritance Unstained, undimmed. Kneel, I implore thee! I, Thy son. Melfi Off, cursed Viper viper! Off, ere I hurl thee on the stones! Julian. I’ve done My duty. Was it not my duty? Alfon. Julian!, Sit here by me—; here on the steps. D’Alba Again We must demand of thee, Regent, once more,my Lord of Melfi, How chanced this tale of murder? Here’s our pPrince, Safe, and unhurt. But where’s the Assassin? Where The regicide? Where he that wounded thee? Melfi. Pointing to Julian Demand of him. D’Alba. Where be thethese murderers? Art sure thou saw’st them, Duke? Or was’t a freak Of the deft Fay, Morgana? Did’st thou feel The trenchant blade? Or, was the hurt thou talk’st of A fairy wound, a phantasm? Once again, I warn thee, speak. Melfi. Demand Prince Julian, Sir, This work is his. D’Alba. He speaks not. Little King, What say’st thou? Alfon. Julian saved me. D’Alba. Saved! From whom? From what?! Alfon. A Kking should have no memory But for good deeds. My lords, an it so please you, We’ll to the pPalace. I’ll not wear to-day This crown: Some fitting season,. Some fitting season; but not now. I’m weary. Let us home. D’Alba. Aye, take him hence,. Home with him, Count Valore. Stay by him Till I come to ye. Leave him not.—. Nay, Calvi, Remain. Hence with the boy. Alfon. My cCousin Julian, Wilt thou not go with us? Julian. I’ve done my duty—. Was’t not my duty? But look there,! look there! I cannot go with thee. I am his now,. All his!. Alfon. Uncle!— Melfi. Away, bright wormbright spotted worm— D’Alba What, ho! the guard! Alfon. My lord, where Julian is I need no guard. Question no more of this, But follow us. Exeunt Valore, Alfonso,Alfonso, Valore, and other nobles. Melfi. I do contemn myself That I hold silence. Warriors, kinsmen, friends, Barons of Sicily, the valiant princes Of this most fertile and thrice famous Isle, Hear me! What yonder crafty Count hath dared, With subtle question, and derivederisive smile, To slide into a meaning, is as true As he is false. I would be King.; I’d reign Over fair Sicily; I’d call myself Your Sovereign, Princes; thine, Count D’Alba, thine, Calvi, and old Leanti:—We’ve been—we were comrades Many a year in the rough path of war,. And now ye know me all. I’ll be a King Fit for this warlike nation, which brooks sway Only of men. Yon slight fair boy is born With a woman’s heart. Let him go tell his beads For us, and for our kingdom. I’ll be King,, I’ll be King. I’ll lend unto that title such a name, As shall enchase this bauble with one blaze Of honour. I’ll lead on to glory, Llords, And ye shall shine in the brightness of my fame As planets round the sun. What say ye? D’Alba. Never! Calvi and others.Calvi, &c. Never! Melfi. Say thou, Leanti, thou’rt a soldier, Worthy of the name, ,—a brave one! What say’st thou? Leanti. If young Alfonso— D’Alba. Peace! Why,. Why this is well. This morning I received a tale—I’m not An over-believer in man’s excellence; I know that in this slippery path of life The firmest foot may fail; that there have been, Ere now, ambitious generals, grasping heirs, Unnatural kinsmen, foul usurpers, murderers.!-- I know that man is frail, and might have fallen, Tho’ Eve had never lived, albeit,,—Albeit I own The smiling mischief’s potency. But this, This tale was made up of such several sins, All of them devilish, treason, treachery, And pitiless cruelty made murder pale With their red shame. I doubt not readily,,—I doubt not readily When man and guilt are joined—but this the common, And general sympathy, that links our kind, Forbade to believe. Yet, now, now before ye all, His peers and mine, before the vacant throne He sought to usurp, before the crown that fell As conscious from his brow., I do arraign Rugiero, Duke of Melfi, General, Peer, Regent, and Prince, of tTreason. Melfi. Treason! D’Alba,. We quarrel not for words. Let these but follow And bold emprise shall bear a happier name. Sicilians, have ye lost your Island spirit? Barons, is your ancient bravery tamed down By this vain scoffer? I’ll to the people. They Love their old soldier. D’Alba. Stop. Duke., I arraign thee Of murder; planned, designed, attempted murder, Though incomplete, on the thrice sacred person Of young Alfonso, kinsman, ward, and kKing. Wilt thou defend this too? Was’t a brave deed To draw the Aassassin’s sword on that poor child? Seize him! Melfi. Come near who dares! Where be thy proofs? Where be thy witnesses? D’Alba. There’s one,. Prince Julian, Rouse thee!He props himself against the tomb, as thoughHe sits erect and motionless A statue too.—Only he trembles so.As yon ancestral image. Doth he breathe? Rouse thee, and answer, as before thy god.God, As there is truth in heaven, did’stHeaven. Didst thou not see Thy father’s sword at young Alfonso’s breast? Lay not the boy, already dead with fear, At his false guardian’s feet? Answer! Melfi. Aye, speak, Prince Julian! Dost thou falter now? On! On!On, on, And drive the dagger home.! On, on, I say. Calvi. We wait your Highness’ answer. Leanti. First remove The prisoner, whil’st that look severely sad Is fastened on the witness, Truth is chained. He pants beneath the spell, as the charmed bird Fixed by the rattle-snake. Julian. Which among ye Dares question me? What are ye, Sirs? D’Alba. The States of Sicily. Julian. The States! Without a head! Without a King! Without a Regent! States! The States! Are ye the States that ’gainst all form Of justice or of guardian law drive on To bloody trial, him your Greatest? Here, too! Here! Will ye build up scaffolds in your churches? And turn grave priests to beadsmen? I’ll not answer. Calvi. The rack may force thee. D’Alba. He but smiles. ConveyConvey the Duke The Duke to the Hall of Justice. We shall follow.To the Hall of Justice. We shall follow straight. Go, summon Juan Castro thither. Hence! Why loiter ye? Melfi. OneA word with thee, Prince Julian. I pray ye, listen; ’tis no treason, Lords., ’tis no treason, lords. I would but say, finish thy work; play. Play well The part that thou hast chosen; cast. Cast aside All filial yearnings; be a gallant foe;. Be a gallant foe. Rush onward through the fight; trample me down:. Trample me down. Tread on my neck; be perfect in that quality,. Be perfect in that quality Which thou call’st justice; quell thy womanish weeping,. Quell thy womanish weakness. Let me respect the enemy, whom once I thought my sonSon. Julian. Once, fatherFather! Melfi. I’m no father.Father! Rouse not my soul to curse thee.! Tempt me not To curse thy mother. She,Mother—She whom once I deemed A saint in purity. Be resolute.; Be resolute, PalterFalter not with them. Lie not. Julian. Did I ever?— Melfi. Finish thy work. On, soldiers.! Exit, guarded.Exit Melfi, guarded. D’Alba. Answer, pPrince! The Duke, as thou hast heartheard, disclaims thee. Julian. Dare not A man of ye say that. I am his son.— Tremble, lest my sword should prove me so!--A;—a part Of his own being. He gave me this life, These senses, these affections. The quick blood That knocks so strongly at my heart is his— Would I might spill it for him! Had ye no fathers, Have ye no sons, that ye would train men up In parricide? I will not answer ye. D’Alba. This passion is thy answer. Could’st thou say No,; in that simple word were more comprised Than in a wordworld of fiery eloquence. Can’st thou not utter No? ’Tis short and easy, The first sound that a stuttering babe will lisp To his fond nurse; yet thy tongue stammers at it.,—yet thy tongue stammers at it! I ask him if his father be at once Traitor and murderer;Murderer, and he cannot say, No! Julian. Subtle, blood-thirsty fiend! I’ll answer To nought that thou can’st ask. Murderer! The Kking Lives. Seek of him. One truth I’ll tell thee, D’Alba, And then the record of that night shall pass Down to the grave in silence. But one sword Was stained with blood in yonder glen,—’twas mine! I wasam the only guilty. This I swear Before the all-seeing God, whose quenchless gaze Pierced through that twilight-hourtwilight hour. Now condemn The Duke of Melfi, an ye dare. I’ll speak no more! I’ll speak On this foul question.No more on this foul question. Leanti. Thou the guilty!? Thou! Julian. I have said it. D’Alba. I had heard a tale— Leanti. This must be sifted. D’Alba. In that twilight hour A mortal eye beheld them. An old Spaniard, One of the guard. By heaven,—By Heaven it is a tale So bloody, so unnatural, man may scarce Believe it.! Leanti And the Kking still lives. D’Alba Why, ’tis A mystery. Let’s to the hall of Justice,Hall of Justice And hear this soldier. Sir, they are ambitious, Father & son.—We can pass judgement there:—We can pass judgment there, This is no place;—Leanti, more ambitious Than thou can’st guess. Julian. Aye, by a thousand fold! I am an Eeaglet born, and can drink in The sunlight, when the blinking owls go darkling, Dazzled, and blinded by the day. Ambitious! I have had myday dreams would have shamed the visions Of that great mMaster of the world, who wept For other worlds to conquer. I’d have lived An age of sinless glory, and gone down Storied, and epitaph’d, and chronicled and epitaphed and chronicled, To the very end of time.—Now. Now—But I still May suffer bravely—may die as a p, may die as a Prince, A man.—Ye go to JudgementMan. Ye go to judgment. Lords, remember I am the only guilty. Calvi We must needs On such confession, give you into charge A prisoner. Ho! Captain. The Officer & Guards advance. Leanti. Goes he with us? D’Alba. No; for the Hhall is near, and they are best Questioned apart. Walk by me, good Leanti, And I will shew thee why. Leanti. Is’t possible That Julian and his father fought?stabb’d his father? D’Alba. No! No!No. Thou saw’st They met as friends. No! No!; no! no! Exeunt Calvi and other Lords Enter Annabel (hastily). Annab. Where is he? Where? Julian! D’Alba. Fair Princess!— Annab. Stay me not—My. My Julian! D’Alba. Oh!, how she sinks her head upon his arm! How her curls kiss his cheek! Aand her white hand Lies upon his. The cold,! The cold and sluggish husband! He does not clasp that loveliest hand!doth not clasp that loveliest hand, which nature Fashioned to gather roses, or to hold Bunches of bursting grapes. Leanti. Count D’Alba, see, We are alone—Wilt. Wilt thou not come? D’Alba. Anon. Now he hath seized her hand, hath dared to grasp—, He shall not hold it long. Leanti. They’ll wait us, Count. D’Alba. That white hand shall be mine!. Exeunt D’Alba &and Leanti Julian. My Annabel, Why art thou here? Annab. They said—I was a fool, That believed them.!—Constance said she heard a cry., Down with the Melfi!—and the rumour ran, Down with the Melfi! and the rumour ran That there had been a fray, that thou wast slain:—. But thou art safe, my Julian? Julian. As thou see’st seest. But thou Thou art breathless still. Annab. Aye— . I flew through the streets, Piercing the crowds like light! . I was a fool— ; But thou had’st left me on a sudden, bearing The young Alfonso with thee;— The young Alfonso with thee, high resolve Fixed in thine eye. I knew not—Love is fearful; I knew not—Love is fearful, And I have learnt to fear. And I have learnt to fear. But thou’rt not well:— Home! by the way thou’lt tell me What hath befallen. Where is Alfonso? Julian. Thou tremblest still. Annabel. The Church is cold and lonely; and that seat, At the foot of yon grim warrior, all too damp For thee. I like not thus to see thee, Julian, Upon a tomb. Thou must submit thee still To thy poor nurse. Home! By the way thou’lt tell me What hath befallen. Where is Alfonso? Julian. Say The King,! the rightful, the acknowledged King! Annabel, this rude stone’s effigy Of the founder of our line; the gallant chief Who swept away the Saracen, and quelled Fierce civil broils; and, when the people’s choice Crowned him, lived guardian of their rights, and died Wept by them as a father. And methinks To-day I do not shame my ancestor; I dare to sit here at his feet, and feel He would not spurn his son. Thou dost not grieve To lose a crown, my fairest? Thou dost not grieve to lose a crown my fairest! Annab. Oh, no! no! I’m only proud of thee.I’m only proud of thee. Thy fame’s my crown. Where’s thy father, Julian? Forgive me. I have pained thee. Jul. Not fame but conscience is the enduring crown, And wearing that impearled, why to lose fame Or life were nothing. Ann. Where’s thy father, Julian? Forgive me, I have pained thee. Julian. No. The pang Is mastered. Where? hHe is a prisoner Before the States—I am a prisoner here—. I am a prisoner here. These are my guards—Be calm, sweetest!. Be calmer, Sweetest. Rend not This holy place with shrieks. Annab. They seek thy life,! They’ll sentence thee! They’ll kill thee! No, they shall not;! they shall not, Unless they kill me first. What crime? Oh Heaven!—O God, This full line is out of focus in the photofacsimile of the manuscript. Two words are faintly legible: “of crime” and in the middle of the line an exclamation point, suggesting that this may be the same line or close to the version in the 1823 publication.To talk of crime and thee!--What falsest charge Dare they to bring?Dare they to bring? Julian. Somewhat of yon sad night They know. Annab. Where’s Theodore? The Ppage? The King? Doth he accuse thee too? Hold me not! Jul. Poor gentle Cousin! He is as innocent as thou. Ann. I’ll fetch him. We’ll go together to the States. We’ll save thee. We, feeble though we be, woman and boy, We’ll save thee. Hold me not! Julian. Where would’st thou go? Annab. To the States. Julian. And there? Annab. I’ll tell the truth, the truth, The irresistible truth! Let go,—a. A moment May cost thy life—our lives—,—our lives. Nothing but truth, That’s all thy cause can need! Let go!. Let go. Julian. And he, My father? Annab. What’s a thousand such as he, To thee, my husband! But he shall be safe;. He is thy father;. I’ll say nought can harm him.— He was ever kind to me; I’ll pray for him!! I’ll pray for him. Nay, an thou fear’st me, Julian, I’ll not speak One word.—; I’ll only kneel before them all, Lift up my hands, and pray in my inmost heart, As I pray to God. Julian. My loving wife, to him,Him Pray to him only. Leave me not my dearest., to Him only. Leave me not, my dearest; There is a peace around us in this pause, This interval of torture. I’m contentI’m content and strong to suffer. Be thou— And strong to suffer. Be thou— Enter D’Alba, Calvi, Leanti and Nobles Ha! returned Already! This is quick. But I’m prepared. The sentence?! Annab. Tell it not! Ye are its judges;his Judges. Ye have the power of life and death; your. Your words Are fate—Oh! Speak not yet. Listen to me!. Oh speak not yet! Listen to me. D’Alba. Aye, a long summer day.; a long summer day! What would’st thou? Annab. Save him! Save him! D’Alba. He shall not die. Annab. Now, bless thee, D’Alba! Bless thee! He’s safe! hHe’s free! Julian. Once more I ask, His doom, for that is mine. If ye have dared, In mockery of justice, to arraign, And sentence your great rRuler, with less pause Than a petty thief, taken in the manner—What’s, what’s Our doom? D’Alba. Sir, our great ruler (we, that love not Law’s tedious circumstance, may thank him) spared All trial by confession. He avowed Treason & regicide,and regicide; and all that thou Had’st said, or might say, he avouched unheard For truth, then cried,; as thou hast done, for judgement.judgment, For death. Julian. I can die, too. Leanti. A milder doom Unites ye. We have spared the royal blood.. D’Alba. Only the blood. Estates and honorshonours all Are forfeit to the king. The Assembled StatesKing; the assembled states Banish ye—The most holy church; the most holy Church declares ye Beneath her ban. This is your sentence, Sir. A hHerald waits to read it in the streets Before ye. And from out the city gates, and from out the city gate To thrust ye;, outlawed, excommunicate, Infamous amongst men. Ere noon to-morrow Ye must depart from Sicily; on pain Of death to ye, the outlaws, death to all that harbour ye,Of death to ye the outlaws, death to all Death to whoe’er shall giveThat harbour ye, death to whoe’er shall give Food, shelter, comfort, so pass ye forthcomfort, speech. So pass ye forth In infamy! Annab. Eternal infamy Rest on your heads, false Jjudges! Outlawed! Banished! Bereft of all state and title! Thou art still Best of the good, greatest ofamongst the great, My Julian! Must they die that give thee food, And rest, and comfort? I shall comfort thee, I, thy true wife! I’ll never leave thee, never!. Never! We’ll walk together to the gate, my hand In thine, as lovers—Let us forth.. Let’s set forth. We’ll go Together. Julian. Aye,; but not to-night. I’ll meet thee To-morrow, at the harbour. Annab. No, no,! no! no! I will not leave thee. Julian. Cling not thus! She trembles!. She trembles. She cannot walk. Brave Sir, we have been comrades,; There is a pity in thine eye, thatwhich well Beseems a soldier. Take this weeping lady To King Alfonso—. Tell the royal boy, One, who was once his kinsman,Cousin and his friend, Commends her to him. Go!. To-morrow, dearest, We’ll meet again—Now for this. Now for the sentence. Lords, I question not your power. I submit To all, even to this shame. Be quick! be quick! Exeunt. End of Act 3rd END OF THE THIRD ACT.
Act 4 ACT IV.
Scene 1 An Apartment in the rRoyal Palace. D’Alba., Bertone. D’Alba. I’ve parted them at last. The livelong night The little King lay, like a page, before Her chamber door,; and ever as he heard A struggling sigh within, he cried, Alas!alas! And echoed back her moan, and uttered words Of comfort. Happy boy!. Bert. But he is gone Towards the gate. Be sure, to seek: be sure to meet Prince Julian. D’Alba. For that I care not, so that I secure The vision that once flitted from my grasp. And vanished like a rainbow. Bert. Yet is Julian Still dangerous. D’Alba. Why, after noon to-day,— And see the sun’s already high! he dies,!--he dies If he be found in Sicily. Take thou Two resolute comrades, to pursue his steps, Soon as the time be past. Did’st thou not hear The proclamation? Know’st thou where he bides,? And Melfi? Bert. Good, my lord, ’tis said the Duke Is dead. D’Alba. Dead! Bert. Sure it is,Certain ’tis that yesternight He walked from out the judgement hall,Judgment Hall like one Dreaming with eyes that saw not;Dreaming, with eyes that saw not, ears that heard No sound, staggering and tottering, like old age, like old age Or infancy.—And. And when the kingly robe Was plucked from him, and he forced from the gate, A deep wound in his side, burst forth, burst forth; the blood Welled like a fountain. D’Alba. And he died? Bert. He fell, Fainting, and Julian, who had treatedtended him,; and Julian, who had tended him Silently, with a spirit so absorbed, His own shame seemed unfelt, fell on his neck, Shrieking like maddening woman. There we left him, And there, ’tis said, ’tis said he hath outwatched the night. D’Alba. There, on the ground? Bert. So please you. D’Alba. Thou hast known A softer couch, Prince Julian!. Is the litter Prepared,—and Julian’s groom?—? And the old groom? Bert. My lord, he waits Your pleasure. D’Alba. Call him hither. Exit Bertone. Blood welled out From a deep wound! Said old Leanti sooth? No matter—Either way they’re guilty.! Either way he’s guilty. Re-Enter Bertone,enter Bertone with Renzi. Ha! Ha! a reverend knave!A reverend knave. Wast thou pPrince Julian’s huntsman? Renzi. An please you, Sir, I was. D’Alba. Dost know the princess?Princess?— Doth she know thee? Renzi. Right well, my lord. Full well, my Lord. I tended Prince Julian’s favourite greyhound. It was strange How Lelia loved my lady,—the poor fool Hath pined for her this week past,—and my lady Loved Lelia. She would stroke her glossy head, And talk of Lelia’s beauty, Lelia’s speed, Till I was weary. D’Alba. The better! And the angel deemed This slave as faithful as her dog! The better. Dost thou love ducats, Renzi? Flinging him a purse Tossing him a purse. Can’st Canst thou grace A lie with tongue, and look, and action? A lie with tongue and look and action? Renzi. Aye. D’Alba. Go to the Princess. Say; say thy master sent thee To guide her to him; or the young Alfonso;, or the young Alfonso,— Use either name, or both. Spare not for tears, Or curses. Lead her to the litter. See; see That Constance follows not. Bertone’ll gain Admittance for thee—Go. Exit Renzi. Bertone seek me A supple churchman. ;—Know’st thou any? One Not scrupulous, one, who loves gold, and laughs,; one who loves gold, and laughs At conscience. Bring him to me. I must hasten Silently home. Let not the pPrincess guess That I have left the palace. Bert. No, my lLord. Exeunt severally.
Scene 2d SCENE II The Country, just without the gates of Messina, a hilly back-ground.. A hilly back Ground. Melfi lying on the Stage.Melfi, lying on the Stage, Julian. Julian. He wakes! hHe is not dead! I am not yet A parricide! I dare not look on him,. I dare not look on him; I dare not speak—. Melfi. Water! my throat is scorched. Exit Julian. My tongue cleaves to my mouth. Water!Water! Will none Exit Julian. Will none Go fetch me water? Am I here alone,? Here on the bloody ground, as on that night,— Am I there still? No! I remember now,. Yesterday I was kKing; to-day, I’m nothing; Cast down by my own son! Stabbed in my fame!; stabbed in my fame; Branded, and done to death! An Outlaw; an outlaw where I ruled! He, whom I loved with such a pride, With such a fondness, hath done this, and I; and I, HaveI have not strength to drag me to his presence, That I might rain down curses on his head, Might blast him with a look!. Enter Julian. Julian. Here’s water! d. Drink! Melfi. What voice is that? Why dost thou shroud thy face? Dost shame to shew thyself? Who art thou? Julian. Drink. I pr’ythee,pray thee drink. Melfi. Is’t poison? Julian. ’Tis the pure, And limpid gushing of a natural spring Close by yon olive ground. A little child, Who stood beside the fount, filled for mewatching the bright And many-coloured pebbles, as they seemed To dance in the bubling water, filled for me Her beechen cup, with her small innocent hand, And bade our lady bless the draught.Lady bless the draught! Oh drink! Have faith in such a blessing! Melfi. Thou should’st bring Nothing but poison. Hence, accursed cup! Dashing the cup to the ground I’ll perish in my thirst. I know thee, Sir. Julian. Father! Melfi. I have no Son. I had onceson. I had one once, A gallant gentleman, but he... What,; but he—What, Sir, Did youDidst thou never hear of that Sicilian Prince, Who made the fabulous tale of Greece a truth, And slew his father? The old Laius fellHe stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed. At once, unknowing and unknown; but this New Œdipus, he stabbed and stabbed and stabbed, And the poor wretch cannot die. Julian. I think my heart Is iron, that it breaks not. Melfi. I should curse him— ButAnd yet—Dost thou not know that I’m an outlaw?, Under the ban? They stand in danger, Sir, That talk to me. Julian. I am an outlaw, too.— Thy fate is mine, our. Our sentence is alike. Melfi. What! have they banished thee? Julian. I should have gone, In very truth, I should have gone with thee, Aye, to the end of the world. Melfi. What, banish thee! Oh, foul ingratitude! weak,Weak changeling boy! Julian. He knows it not. Father, this banishment Came as a comfort to me, set me free From warring duties and fatiguing cares, And left me wholly thine. We shall be happy,; For she goes with us, who will prop mythy steps, As once the Mmaid of Thebes, Antigone, In that old tale. Chuse thou whatever land,— All are alike to us—but. But pardon me! Say thou hast pardoned me! Melfi. My virtuous son! Julian. Oh, thanks to thee, and heaven! He sinks! He faints! and Heaven! He sinks; he’s faint; His lips wax pale!. I’ll seek the spring once more: ’Tis thirst. Melfi. What music’s that? Julian. I hear none. Melfi Hark! Julian Thou art weak and dizzy. Melfi Angels of the air, Cherub &and Seraph, sometimes watch around The dying, and the mortal sense, at pause ’Twixt life and death, doth drink in a faint echo Of heavenly harpings? Julian. I have heard so. Melfi. Aye; But they were just men, Julian;—they were holy;! They were holy. They were not traitors. Julian. Strive against these thoughts:— Thou wast a brave man, father! FightFather!--fight against them, As ’gainst the Paynims, thy old foes. He grows Paler and paler. Water from the spring,—; Or generous wine. She will be here anon.;—I saw a cottage near. Rest thee, dear fFather, till I come. Exit Julian. Melfi. Again That music! It is mortal. It; it draws nearer. No!. But if men should pass, must I lie here, Like a crushed adder? Here in the highway Trampled beneath their feet? ?—So! So! I’ll crawl To yonder bank—Oh,. Oh that it were the deck Of some great Admiral, and I alone, Boarding amidst a hundred swords! the breach Of some strong citadel, and I the first To mount in the cannon’s mouth. I was brave once.To mount in the cannon’s mouth! I was brave once. Oh, for the common undistinguished death Of battle, pressed by horse’s heels, or crushed By falling towers! And thing but to lie Here like a leper.! Enter Alfonso, Calvi, & ValoreValore, and Calvi. Alfon. ’Tis the spot where Julian— And yet I see him not—I’ll pause awhile. I’ll pause awhile; ’Tis likely he’ll return. I’ll wait. Whence come those groans? My uncle Stretched on the ground and none to tend thee? Rest Thy head upon my arm. Where’s Julian? Sure I thought to find him with thee. Nay, be still, Strive not to move. Calvi. My liege, You’re sad to day. Alfonso. I have good cause to be so. Valore. Nay, nay, cheer up. Alfonso. Didst thou not tell me, Sir, That my poor Uncle’s banished, outlawed, laid Under the church’s ban? Calvi. He would have slain His Sovereign. Alfonso. I ne’er said it. Yesterday I found you at his feet. Oh, would to Heaven That crown were on his head, and I—What’s that? Valore. The moaning wind. Calvi. He was a traitor, Sire, Alfonso. He was my kinsman still. And Julian! Julian! My Cousin Julian! he who saved my life, Whose only crime it was to be too good, Too great, too well beloved,—to banish him! To tear him from my arms! Calvi. Sire, he confessed— Alfonso. Ye should have questioned me. Sirs, I’m a boy, A powerless, friendless boy, whose name is used To cover foul oppression. If I live To grasp a sword—but ye will break my heart Before that hour. Whence come those groans? Seeing Melfi. My Uncle Stretched on the ground, and none to tend thee! Rest Thy head upon my arm. Where’s Julian? Sure I thought to find him with thee. Nay, be still; Strive not to move. Melfi. I fain would kneel to thee For pardon. Calvi Listen not, my liege. The sStates Sentenced the Duke of Melfi. Thou; thou hast not The power to pardon. Leave him to his fate. Valore. ’Twere best your hHighness came with us. Alfon. Avoid The place! Leave us, cold, courtly lords! Avoid My sight! Leave us, I say. Send instant succour., Food, water, wine, and men with hearts, if courts May breed such. Leave us!. Exeunt Calvi and Valore. Melfi. Gallant boy! Alfon. Alas! I have no power. Melfi. For all I need thou hast. Give me but six feet of Sicilian earth, And thy sweet pardon. Alfon. Talk not thus. I’ll grow At once into a man, into a king, And they shall tremble, and turn pale with fear. Who now have dared— Enter Julian. Julian! Julian. Here’s water. Ha! Alfonso! I thought pity had been dead.Pity had been dead. I craved a little wine, for the dear love Of heaven, for a poor dying man,Heaven, for a poor dying man; and all Turned from my prayer. Drink, father! Alfon. I have sent For succour. Julian. Gentle heart! Melfi. The time is past. Music again!. Alfon. Aye; ’tis a shepherd’s pipe From yonder craggy mountain. How it swings Upon the wind!, now pausing, now renewed, Regular as a bell!. Melf. A passing bell. Alfon. Cast off these heavy thoughts. Melfi. Turn me. Alfon. He bleeds! The blood wells out. Melfi. It eases me. Julian. He sinks! He dies!—Off!--He’s my father! Off! he’s my father. Rest on me. Melfi. Bless thee!. Julian No!Oh, no! no! no! I cannot bear Thy blessing! Twice to stab! and twice forgiven!. Twice to stab, and twice forgiven— Oh! curse me, curse me rather! Melfi. Bless ye both! Dies. Alfon. He’s dead;, And surely he died penitent. That thought Hath in it a deep comfort. The freed spirit Gushed out in a full tide of pardoning love. He blest us both, my Julian—; even me As I had been his son. We’ll pray for him Together, and thy Annabel shall join Her purest orisons. I left her stretched In a deep slumber. All night long she watched And wept for him and thee; but now she sleeps. Shall I go fetch her? She, better than I, Would soothe thee. Dost thou hear? He writhes as though The struggling grief would choke him. Rouse thee, Julian!. Julian, Calm thee! Thou frighten’st me!. Thou frighten’st me. Julian. Am I not calm? There is my sword—. Go. Alfon. I’ll not leave thee. Julian. King! Dost thou not see we’ve killed him? Thou had’st cause,; But I, that was his son—Son.—Home to thy pPalace! Home! Alfon. Let me stay beside thee.; I’ll not speak, Nor look, nor move. Let me but sit, and drop Tear for tear with thee. Julian. Go. Alfon. My cCousin Julian— Julian. Madden me not. I’m excommunicate, An exile, and an outlaw, but a man!. Grant me the human privilege to weep Alone o’er my dead father. King, I saved Thy life, repay. Repay me now a thousand fold.thousand-fold,— Go!. Alfon. Yes, for a sweet Comforter.Aye; for a sweet comforter. Enter Paolo. Paolo. My liege, The Lady Annabel.—lady Annabel— Julian. What! Is? is she dead? Have I killed her? Alfon. Speak, Paolo. In thy charge I left her. Julian. Is she dead? Paolo. No. Heaven forefend! But she hath left the pPalace. Julian. ’Tis the curse Of blood that’s on my head, on all I love!; on all I love. She’s lost!. Alfon. Did she go forth alone? Paolo. My liege, Prince Julian’s aged hHuntsman, Renzi, came, Sent, as he said, by thee, to bear her where Her lLord was sheltered. Julian. Hoary traitor! Paolo. She She followed him, nothing fearing; and I tooFollowed him, nothing fearing; and I too Had gone, but D’Alba’s servants closed the gates, And, then, then my heart misgave me. Julian. Where’s my sword? I’ll rescue her! I’ll save her! Alfon. Hast thou traced Thy honoured lady? Paolo. No; butNo, my liege. But much I fear— Certain, a closed and guarded litter took The way to the western suburb. Julian. There, where lies The palace of Count D’Alba. Stained! defiled!! Stained—defiled— He hashath thee now, my lovely one! There’s still A way—Let me but reach thee! One Asylum!asylum— One bridal bed! one resting place!--—One resting place. All griefs Are lost in this! Oh!. Oh would I lay as thou, my father! Leave him not in the highway,My Father! Leave him not in the high-way For dogs to mangle!. He was once a pPrince.— Farewell! Alfon. Let me go with thee. Julian. No. This deed Is mine. Exit Julian. Alfon. Paolo, stay by the corse. I’ll after., He shall not on this desperate quest alone. Paolo. Rather, my liege, seek D’Alba. As:— I deem He still is at thy palace. So may the sweet ladyPalace. Watch him well. Stay by him closely. So may the sweet lady Be rescued, and Prince Julian saved. Alf. Thou’rt right. Exeunt.
SceneScene III A Gothic Apartment. A recess in which is a niche window closed, but so constructed, as light may be thrown in. Near the recess, a small arched door, thro’ which is seen an inner chamber.— An Apartment in an old Tower; a rich Gothic Window, closed, but so constructed as that the Light may be thrown in, near it a small arched Door, beyond which is seen an Inner Chamber, with an open Casement.—Annabel is borne in by D’Alba and Guards, through a strong Iron Door in the side Scene. Annabel is brought in by Servants, and follow’d by Count D’Alba. D’Alba, Annabel, Guards. D’Alba. Leave her with me. Guard well the gate; and watch That none approach the tower. Exeunt Servants.Exeunt Guards. Fair Annabel! Annab. Who is it calls? Where am I? Who art thou? Why am I here? Now, heaven preserve me!, D’Alba! Where’s Julian? Where’s pPrince Julian? Where’s my husband? Renzi, who lured me from the palace, swore It was to meet my husband. D’Alba. Many an oath, First sworn in falsehood, turns to truth. He’s here. Calm thee, sweet lady. Annab. Where? I see him not. Julian! D’Alba. Another husband. Annab. Then he’s dead! He’s dead! D’Alba. He lives. Annab. Heard I aright? Again! There is a deafening murmur in mine ears, Like the moaning sound that dwells in the sea-shell;—sea shell, So that I hear nought plainly. Say’t again. D’Alba. He lives!. Annab. Now, thanks to heaven! Take me to him!Heaven! Take me to him. Where am I? D’Alba. In an old, and lonely tower At the end of my poor orchard. Annab. Take me home. D’Alba. Thou hast no home. Annab. No home! His arms! his heart! Take me to him!. D’Alba. Sweet Annabel, be still. Conquer this woman’s vain impatiency, And listen.—Why,. Why she trembles as I were Some bravo! Oh,. Oh that man’s free heart should bow To a fair cowardice! Listen. Thou know’st The sentence of the Melfi? Annab. Aye, the unjust And wicked doom, that ranked the innocent With the guilty. But I murmur not. I love To suffer with him. D’Alba. He is banished,; outlawed, Cut off from every human tie.;— Annab. Not all. I am his wife. D’Alba. Under the church’s ban!Church’s ban. I tell thee, Annabel, that learned pPriest, The sage Anselmo, deems thou art released From thy unhappy vows,; and will to-nightto night— Annab. Stop!. I was wedded in the light of day, In the great church at Naples. Blessed day! I am his wife,; bound to him ever more In sickness, penury, disgrace. Count D’Alba, Thou dost misprize the world, but thou must know That woman’s heart is faithful, and clings closest In misery. D’Alba. If the cChurch proclaim thee free,— Annab. Sir, I will not be free. And if I were,; and if I were I’d give myself to Julian o’er again,— Only to Julian.! Trifle thus no longer. Lead me to him. Release me. D’Alba. Now, by heaven, I’ll bend this glorious constancy. I’ve known thee, Even from a little child, and I have seen Thy stubborn spirit broken:;That stubborn spirit broken: not by fear, That thou can’st quell, nor interest, nor ambition,; nor interest; nor ambition; But love! love! love! I tell thee, Annabel, One, whom thou lo’st, stands in danger. Wed me,One whom thou lov’st, stands in my danger. Wed me This very night.—I will procure a priest, And dispensations, there shall nothing lack Of nuptial form,—Wed me, or look t to hear Of bloody justice. Annab. My poor father, Melfi! D’Alba. The Regent!? He is dead. Annab. HeavenGod hath been merciful. D’Alba. Is there no other name? no dearer? Annab. Ha! D’Alba. Had’st thou such tender love for this highproud father, Who little recked of thee, or thy fair looks,;— Is all beside forgotten? Annab. Speak.! D’Alba. Why, Julian! Julian, I say! Annab. He is beyond thy power. Thanks, thanks, great heav’nGod! He’s ruined, exiled, stripped Of name, and land, and titles. He’s as dead. Thou hast no power to harm him. He can fall No deeper. Earth hath not a lowlier state Than princely Julian fills. D’Alba. The grave! The graveDoth not the grave Lies deeper!Lie deeper? Annab. What? But thou hast not the power! Hast thou? Thou can’st not! Oh,canst not. Oh be pitiful! Speak.—, I conjure thee, speak! D’Alba. Didst thou not hear That he was exiled, outlawed, banished far From the Sicilian Isles, on pain of death,. If, after noon to-day, he e’er were seen In Sicily? The allotted bark awaits; The hour is past,; and he is here. Annab. Now, heaven, Have mercy on us! D’Alba, at thy feet, Upon my bended knees—Oh pity! pity! Pity and pardon! I’ll not rise. I cannot. I cannot stand more than a creeping worm, Whilst Julian’s in thy danger. Pardon him! Thou wast not cruel once. I’ve seen thee turn Thy step from off the path, to spare an insect; I’ve marked thee shudder, when my falcon struck A panting bird;—though thou hast tried to sneer At thy own sympathy. D’Alba, thy heart Is kinder than thou knowest.—. Save him, D’Alba! Save him! D’Alba. Be mine. Annab. Am I not his? D’Alba. Be mine,; And he shall live to the whole age of man Unharmed. Annab. I’m his.—Oh, spare him! only—Oh spare him!--Only his. D’Alba. Then, it is thou, that dost enforce the law On Julian—Thou; thou, his loving wife, that guid’st The Oofficer to seize him, where he lies Upon his father’s corse.—Thou,; thou that dost lead Thy husband to the scaffold—Thou, his wife!;—thou his wife, His loving wife! Thou yet may’st rescue him. Annab. Now, heav’nGod forgive thee, man! Thou torturest me Worse than a thousand racks. But thou art not So devilish, D’Alba!. Thou hast talked of love;— Would’st see me die here at thy feet? Have mercy! D’Alba. Mercy! Aye, such as thou hast shewn to me Through weeks, and months, and years. I was born strong In scorn, the wise man’s passion. I had lived Aloof from the juggling world, and with a string shrugstring Watched the poor puppets ape their several parts,; Fool, knave, or madman; till thy fatal charms, Beautiful mischief, made me knave and fool, And madman; brought Revenge, and Love, and Haterevenge and love and hate Into my soul. I love, and hate thee, lady, And doubly hate myself for loving thee. But, by this teeming earth, this glorious heaven,starry Heaven, And by thyself, the fairest, stubbornst thing, stubbornest thing The fair stars shine upon, I swear to-night— Thou shalt be mine. If willingly, I’ll save Prince Julian. But;—but still mine. Speak. Shall he live? Can’st thou not speak? Wilt thou not save him? Annab. No. D’Alba. Did she die with the word! Did’stDost hear me, lady? I asked thee, would’st thou save thy husband? Annab. No. Not so! not so! Not so! Not so! D’Alba. ’Tis well!. Exit Count D’Alba.Exit D’Alba. Annab. Stay! Stay! He’s gone. Count D’Alba! sSave him! Save him! D’Alba’s gone!, And I have sentenc’d him!sentenced him. After a pause. He would have chosen so., Would rather have died a thousand deaths, than to than so Have lived. Oh,! Oh who will succour me, shut up In this lone tower! none but those horrid guards, (There’s treachery in their face) know where the poorAnd yonder hoary traitor, know where the poor, Poor Annabel is hidden. No; no man cares How she may perish.—Only one, —only one—and he— Preserve my wits! I’ll count my beads. It will calm me—; ’twill calm me: What, if I hang my rosary from the casement? There is a brightness in the gorgeous Jewelsjewel To catch men’s eyes, and, haply, some may pass That are not mercilesspitiless. This window’s closed; But in yon Cchamber—Ah, ’tis open! There I’ll hang the holy gem, a guiding star, A visible prayer to man and god. Oh,God. Oh save me From sin and shame! Save him! I’ll hang it there. Exit. End of the Fourth Act
Act 5th ACT V.
Scene 1stSCENE. Same as the last.—The small door nearly closed.—A light from the setting sun thro’ the window The same as the last; the arched Door nearly closed. Annabel (alone)Annabel. Annabel. I cannot rest, I wander to & fro’. I wander to and fro Within my dreary prison, as to seek For comfort, and find none. Each hour hath killed A hope that seemed the last. The shadows point Upward—The Sun is sinking. Guard me, Heaven,. The sun is sinking. Guard me, heaven, Thro’Through this dread night! Gun heard.A gun is heard without. What evil sounds? sound—All sounds Are evil here!--! Is there some murder doing? Or wantonly, in sport—. Enter Julian Thro’ the small door.through the arched Door. Julian. Annabel! Anna. Julian! Julian. My wife! aArt thou still mine? Anna. Thine own!. Julian. She smiles! She clings to me! Her eyes are fixed on memine With the old love, the old divinest look Of innocence! It is yet time. She’s pure,! She’s undefiled.—Speak to me, Annabel!!--Speak to me, Annabel. Tremble not so!. Anna. ’Tis joy.—Oh,. Oh I have been So wretched! And to see thee when I thought We ne’er should meet again!--How did’st! How didst thou find me? Julian. The Rrosary! the blessed rosary Shone in the Sunbeam like a beacon fire;sun-beam, like a beacon fire, A guiding star.—Thrice holy was the! Thrice holy was its light That led me here to save— Anna. Oh! blessings on thee! How? Where? what way? the iron door is barred.The iron door is barred! Where did’st thou enter, Julian?didst thou enter Julian! Julian. Thro’ the CasementThrough the casement Of yonder chamber. Anna. What, that grim ascent?? that grim ascent! That aweful depth? Did’stawful depth! Didst thou dare this for me? And must I—? But?—But I fear not. I’ll go with thee. I’m safe of foot, and light—. I’ll go. Julian. Thou can’st not. Anna. Then go thyself, or he will find thee here, He, and his ruffian band— and his ruffian band. Let us part now. Kiss me again!--. Fly, fly from Sicily!— That fearful man! But he is all one lie,—but he is all one lie— Told me thy life was forfeited. Julian. He told thee A truth. Anna. Oh! fly, fly, fly!Oh fly! fly! fly; Julian. My Annabel, The bloodhounds that he laid upon the scent Have tracked me hither.—Did’st. Didst thou hear a gun? For once the ball passed harmless. Anna. Art thou hurt? Art sure thou art not? Julian. Yes, but. But they who aimed That death, are on the watch—. Their quarry’s lodged. We can escape them—one way—only one way.one! Anna. How? What way? Julian. Ask not. Anna. Whither? Julian. To To—my father. Anna. Then he’s alive!--Oh,—Oh happiness! They told me That he was dead.—. Why do we loiter here? Let’s join him now. Julian. Not yet. Anna. Now,! now! Thou know’st not How horribly these walls do picture to me The several agonies whereof my soul Hath drunk to-day.—Ito day. I have been tempted, Julian, By one—a fiend!—Tempted ’till tempted till I almost thought Heaven had forsaken me.—But thou art here,God had forsaken me. But thou art here To save me, and my pulse beats high again With love &and hope. I am light-hearted now, And could laugh, like a child—only these walls Do crowd around me with a visible weight, Of a palpableThe blotted word is most likely “palpable,” aligning with the 1823 publication. We can see a descender likely for the letter “p” amd neighboring ascenders likely for the letters “b” and “l” followed by a short letter, almost certainly an “e." pressure,A palpable pressure; giving back the forms Of wildest thoughts,Of wildest thoughts that wandered through my brain, Bright chattering madness, and sedate despair,Bright chattering Madness, and sedate Despair, And Two words in this line and the next are completely illegible under the blot in the manuscript photofacsimile. great unrealAnd fear the Great Unreal!—Take me hence! Take From the context of the lines and the 1823 text, the two words hidden by the blot damage are almost certainly “me away."Take me away with thee! Julian. Not The large blot on the manuscript image most likely covers the words “yet, not” as given in the 1823 publication. A descender that would match the letter “y” is just visible. yet,Not yet, not yet. Thou sweetest wretch! I cannot.—Dotard! Fool! I must—not yet, not yet.. Not yet! not yet!—Talk to me, Annabel; This is the hour when thou wast wont to make Earth, Heaven with lovely words; the sunset hourEarth Heaven with lovely words; the sun-set hour, That woke thy spirit into joy.—. Once more Talk to me, Annabel!. Anna. Aye, all day long, When we are free. Thy voice is choaked,choked; thy looks Are not on me; thy hand doth catch and twitch And grasp mine painfully,—that gentle hand! Julian. Oh! Heaven! Oh Heaven? That right hand.—Kiss it not! O God! O God! that right hand!--kiss it not! Take thy lips from it! Anna. Can’st thou save me, Julian? Thou always dost speak truth.—Can’st save thyself?The first three letters are visible as “thy,” but the rest is obscured under the blot. We supply “thyself?” from comparison with the 1823 edition.. Canst save thyself? Shall we go hence together? Julian. Aye—one fate,Aye, one fate— One home!. Anna. Why that is bliss!--We shall be free. We shall be poor— Shall we not, Julian? I shall have a joy I never looked for,; I shall work for thee, Shall tend thee, be thy page, thy all!Page, thy ’Squire, thy all,— Shall I not, Julian?. Julian. Annabel, look forth Upon this glorious world! Look once again On our fair Sicily, lit by that sun, Whose level beams do cast a golden shine On sea, and shore, and city, on the pride Of bowery groves, on Etna’s smouldering top!; on Etna’s smouldering top;— Oh, bright and glorious world! Aand thou of all Created things most glorious, tricked in light, As the stars that live in Heaven! Anna. Why dost thou gaze So sadly on me?. Julian. The bright stars, how oft They fall, or seem to fall!--The Sun—Look, look,seem to fall! The Sun—look! look! He sinks, he sets in glory.—Blessed orb Blessed orb, Like thee,—like thee. Dost—like thee—Dost thou remember once We sat by the Sea-shore,sate by the sea shore when all the Heaven And all the Oocean seemed one glow of fire?— Red, purple, saffron, melted into one Intense and ardent flame, the doubtful line Where sea and sky should meet was lost in that Continuous brightness; there we sate and talkedThere we sate, and talked, Of the mysterious union that blessed orb Wrought between earth and heaven, of life and death— High mysteries!--and thou didst wish thyselfAnd thou didst wish thyself A spirit sailing in that flood of light Straight to the Eternal Gates, did’t pray to pass Away in such a glory.—Annabel,. Annabel! Look out upon the burning sky, the Seasea One lucid ruby—’Tis’tis the very hour! Thou’lt be a Seraph at the fount of light before—Fount of Light Before— Anna. What, must I die? And wilt thou kill me? Can’st thou? Thou cam’st to save— Julian. To save thy honor.honour! I shall die with thee. Anna. Oh, no! no! Live! Live!live! live! If I must die—Oh, it is sweet to live, To breathe, to move, to feel the throbbing blood, Beat in the veins, ,—to look on such an earth, On such a Heaven, ,—to look on thee! Young life Is very dear!. Julian. Would’st live for D’Alba? Anna. No.! I had forgot.—I’ll die.—Quick! quick!. I’ll die. Quick! Quick! Julian. One kiss! Angel, dost thou forgive me? Anna. Yes. Julian. My sword,!— I cannot draw it. Anna. Now!--I’m ready!! I’m ready. Enter Bertone and 2 others armed. Enter Bertone, and two Murderers. Bert. Seize him! Yield thee, Prince Julian!--Yield thee! Seize the lady!! Yield thee! Seize the lady. Julian. Oh, fatal, fond delay!--Dare! Dare not come near us.! Stand off! I’ll guard thee, sweet. But, but when I fall Let him not triumph. Bertone. Yield thee! Strike him down! Now!. The two men have now advanced close to Julian, and one of them strikes at him with his Sword. Annabel rushes before Julian, receives the wound aimed at him, & falls dead at his feet. Jul. Thou canst die then, my fairest. The two murderers have now advanced close to Julian. Bertone. Now! One of the murderers strikes at Julian with his sword; Annabel rushes before him, receives the wound aimed at him, and falls at his feet. Anna. (before she is wounded). For thee! Then after. For thee. ’Tis sweet! dies. Anna. Rushing forward. For thee! after she is wounded For thee! ’Tis sweet! Dies. Julian. Fiend! hast, hast thou slain her? Die! die! die! Kills him. Come on. fights and kills him. Bertone. Call instant help.! Hasten the Count! Exit the other bravo Exit the other murderer. Julian & Bertone fight, &and Julian kills him. Julian. My Wifewife! My murdered Wifewife! Doth she not breathe? I thought— My sight is dim—Oh, ho! no! she’s pale, she’s cold,she’s pale! she’s cold! She’s still!--If she were living, she would speak To comfort me.—She’s mute, she’s stiff, she’s dead! She’s mute! she’s stiff! she’s—dead! Why do I shiver at the word? I, that am Death’s factor? Peopler of unhallowed graves?, peopler of unhallowed graves, Slayer of all my race? Not! not thee! not thee! Heaven, in itsGod, in his mercy, guided the keen sword To thy white bosom.—I could not.—Lie there! Lie there. I’ll shroud thee in my mantle.—The rude earthI’ll shroud thee in my mantle. covering her with it. The rude earth Will veil thy beauty next.—One kiss! She died One kiss!--She died To save me!--One kiss, Annabel!To save me!--One kiss, Annabel! I slew But the fiend—the cause—The slave that killed thee,—but the fiend—the cause— Is he not coming?—I will chain in life Till I’ve avenged thee!--; I could slay an army Now, in my strong despair.—But that were mercy.—. But that were mercy. He must wear daggers in his heart—. He loved her;— I’ll feed his hopes, and then—Aye, ha, ha, ha!—ha! ha! ha! That will be a revenge to make the fiends Laugh—ha, ha, ha!--ha! ha! ha! I’ll wrap me in this cloak, taking one belonging to the dead bravo. And in the twilight—So!—He will not know My voice—Itit frightens me!--I have not hidden Thee quite, my Annabel—! There is one tress Floating in springy grace,—as if—she’s dead! She’s dead!--! I must not gaze, for then my heart Will break before it’sits time.—He comes!-- He comes. The stairs Groan at his pressure. Enter D’Alba, speaking to an Attendant.Enter D’Alba. D’Alba. entering to an Attendant Stop, and watch the gate.Back, and watch the gate!-- All’s tranquil. Where’s the traitor? Julian. Dead!. D’Alba. Who slew him? Julian. I. D’Alba. And the Ladylady,—where is she? Julian. At rest. D’Alba. Fair gentlenessGentleness! After this perilous storm She needs must lack repose.—I’ll wait her here. Friend,! thou hast done good service to the state, And me—We’re; we’re not ungrateful—. Julian’s sword Fails him not often,; and the slave who fled Proclaimed him Victor. Julian. He slew two. D’Alba. And thou Slew’st him? Aye, there he lies in the ermined cloak Of royalty, his haughty shroud.Of royalty, his haughty shroud! Six ells Of rude uncostly linen serves to wrap Your common corse; but this man was born swathed In regal purple; lived so; and so died. So be he buried. Let not mine enemyLet not mine enemy Call me ungenerous.—. Roll him in his ermine, And dig a hole without the city gate For him and the great Regent.—Quick! I’ll haveproud Regent. Quick! I’d have The funeral speedy.—Ah,. Ah! the slaughtering sword Lies by him, brown with clotted gore.—Hence! Hence! Hence! hence! And drag the Carrion with thee!carrion with thee. Julian. Wilt thou not Look on the Corsecorse? D’Alba. I cannot wait her waking. I must go feast my eyes on her fair looks— Divinest Annabel!—my widowed bride! My widowed bride!-- Where is she? Julian. uncovering the body There!. Now gaze thyself to Hell! Gloat with hot love upon that beauteous dust!— She’s safe! She’s dead! D’Alba. Julian! Julian. But touch her not! She’s mine. D’Alba. Oh, perfectest and loveliest thing! Eternal curses rest upon his head Who murdered thee! Julian. Off! off! pPollute her not! She’s white! she’s pure!--Curses! Pour curse for curseShe’s pure!--Curses! Now curse for curse On the foul murderer, on! On him who turned The sweet soul from her home, who slew her father, Hunted her husband as a beast of prey, Pursued, imprisoned, lusted, left no gate Open, save that to Heaven!—Off! gaze not on her! Thy look is profanation! Throwing himself on the body. Enter Alfonso, Leanti, Valore & Guards.Valore, &c. Alfon. Entering. Now, Leanti,Here, Leanti! This way!—Oh, Oh sight of horror! Julian! Julian! Valore. The Princess dead!—Why, Why D’Alba— Leanti. Seize him, guards;. Lead him before the States.—. This bloody scene Calls for deep vengeance!. D’Alba. If I were not weary OfOf a world that sweats under a load of fools,— Old creaking vanes, that turn as the wind changes,— Lords, I’d defy ye! I’d live on for ever! And I defy ye now.—. For she is gone— The glorious vision!--Aand the Patriarch’s years Were valueless.—. Do with me as ye will;— Ye cannot call back her. Leanti. Off with him! Exit D’Alba guarded. Alfon. Julian! Wilt thou not speak? Wilt thou not speak? Julian. I have been thanking Hheaven That she is dead. Valore. His wits are gone. Alfon. My Julian, Look on me.—. Dost thou know me? I’m thy Cousin, Thy comforter!. Julian. She was my cComforter! And now—but I do know thee, thou’rt the King,But I do know thee; thou’rt the King; The pretty boy I loved.—She loved thee too.——She loved thee too! I’m glad thou’rt come to close my eyes.—Draw nearer, Draw nearer That I may see thy face.—. Where art thou? Alfon. Here! Julian. Poor child, he weeps! Send for the honoredhonoured dead Beside the city gate,—he pardoned me! Bury us in one grave,—all in one grave! I did not kill her—Strew her with white flowers, For she was innocent!. Leanti. Cheer thee! Take hope! Valore. Raise up his head!. Alfon. My Julian! Julian. He forgave me,— Thou know’st he did.—White flowers—nothing but white.! Nothing but white! Dies. Leanti. He isHe’s gone! Alfon. And I am left in the wide world Alone.—. My Julian! End of the Play. THE END.