Joanna Baillie

“ For the fair mansion of his lordly sire,
Goes to a world unknown.
VALERIA.
⁠Ay, thou would'st cheer me, and I will be cheer'd.
There reigns above who casts his dark shade o'er us,
Mantling us on our way to glorious light.
I have offended, and I should be fearful,
But there is sent in mercy to my heart,
For which I humbly give——O no, I may not!
Death is upon me now.——Ella and Lucia:
Stand closer to me: let me firmly grasp
Something that I have lov'd. ”

“ ZORADA.
I'll rest me in my closet for a while;
I'm wayward grown, and love to be alone.
ROMIERO.
No; say not so; I know thou art not wayward;
It is not in thy nature; but distress,
From filial duty, strain'd, perhaps, too far,
Have made thee so. Remain, my love, with me;
Thou wilt forgive me when thou hast consider'd.
ZORADA.
I cannot now consider, with a heart
Gored to the quick. I pray you, then, my lord,
Permit me to retire.
ROMIERO.
I'll lead thee to thy closet: lean on me.
(She waves him off with her hand.)
Wilt thou not deign to do it? ”

“ Or only to have heard thro' the still air
Thy voice distinctly call me, or the sound
Of thy known steps upon my lonely floor:
And shall I then, holding thy living hand
In love and honour, say, thou art not mine?
Erm. (shaking his head.) This state—this sacred badge!
Aur. O no! that holy cross upon thy breast
Throws such a charm of valorous sanctity
O'er thy lov'd form: my thoughts do forward glance
To deeds of such high fame by thee achiev'd,
That ev'n methinks the bliss of wedded love
Less dear, less noble is, than such strong bonds
As may, without reproach, unite us still. ”

“ MARDONIO.
Hope oft, my son, unbraces the girt mind,
And to the conflict turns it loosely forth,
Weak and divided. I'm disturb'd for thee.
RAYNER.
I thank thee, Father, but the crime of blood
Your governor hath ne'er yet pardon'd; therefore
Be not disturb'd for me; my hopes are small.
MARDONIO.
So much the better. Now to pious thoughts
We will direct—Who comes to interrupt us?
Enter the Turnkey.
RAYNER.
It is the turnkey; a poor man who, tho'
His state in life favours not the kind growth
Of soft affections, has shewn kindness to me. ”

“ Gentle and fair was his form in the tow'rs of the hilly Ithona.
His voice cheer'd the soul of the sad; he would sport with a child in the
hall.
Matchless in the days of their love were Lochallen and the daughter of
Lorma.
But their beauty has ceas'd on Arthula; and the place of their rest is
unknown.
The family of Lorma has fail'd, and strangers rejoice in his hall:
But voices of sorrow are heard when the stillness of midnight is there;
The stranger is wak'd with the sound, and enquires of the race that is
gone.
But wherefore thus doleful and sad, do ye wander alone on Arthula? ”

“ GARCIO.
Ay, were my faith
Strong as my penitence, 't were well indeed.
My scourge and bed of earth would then be temper'd
Almost to happiness.
COUNTESS.
Thy scourge and bed of earth! alas, alas!
And meanest thou then to wreak upon thyself
Such cruel punishment? O no, my Garcio!
God doth accept the sorrow of the heart
Before all studied penance. 'T is not well:
Where'er thou art, live thou with worthy men,
And as becomes thy state.
GARCIO.
No; when from hence a banish'd man I go,
I'll leave behind me all my crime did purchase. ”

“ Marthon, thou once wert wont to speak the truth;
What brought ye hither?
MARTHON.
⁠Most gracious prince, with no repentant mind
We hither came; but one of us, at least,
Shall hence depart with a heart deeply smitten.
CONSTANTINE.
⁠Confess then what new treason ye devised.
ELLA.
⁠No treason; none to thee, most royal Constantine.
For me he came, arm'd with a parent's right,
To bear me to the haughty sultan's camp,
To live in queenly state. But, Oh protect me!
Let me remain and die with those I love
In decent maiden pride. ”

“ Thou knowst me not—I am thy Rosinberg,
Thy dearest, truest friend, thy loving kinsman;
Thou dost not say to me. Why art thou come?
Bas. Shame knows no kindred; I am fall'n, disgrac'd;
My fame is gone, I cannot look upon thee.
Ros. My Basil, noble spirit! talk not thus!
The greatest mind untoward fate may prove:
Thou art our gen'rous, valiant leader still,
Fall'n as thou art—and yet thou art not fall'n;
Who says thou art, must put his hairness on,
And prove his words in blood.
Bas. Ah Rosinberg! this is no time to boast! ”

“ She on her journey kept;
Save often when she 'gan to tire,
She stop'd awhile and wept.
Wild creatures left their caverns drear,
To raise their nightly yell;
But little doth the bosom fear,
Where inward troubles dwell.
No watch-light from the distant spire,
To cheer the gloom so deep,
Nor twinkling star, nor cottage fire
Did thro' the darkness peep.
Yet heedless still she held her way,
Nor fear'd the crag nor dell;
Like ghost that thro' the gloom to stray,
Wakes with the midnight bell.
Now night thro' her dark watches ran,
Which lock the peaceful mind ”

“ CLERMONT.
⁠It is a new and bright fancy of your Ladyship's, and never entered my mundane imagination before.
LADY WORRYMORE.
⁠Has it not? O, I have worshipped Petrarch, dreamt of him, repeated in my sleep all his beautiful conceptions, till I have started from my couch in a paroxysm of delight!
SIR JOHN.
⁠Ah, Lady Worrymore! you should have lived some centuries earlier, and been the Laura of that impassioned poet yourself.
MISS FRANKLAND (aside to Sir John) .
⁠I wish she had, with all my heart.
LADY WORRYMORE.
⁠But I have not yet seen your sweet composition, Mr. Clermont ”

“ RAYNER.
Ay, 'tis the cursed insolence of wealth
That makes the poor man poor. Thou wert unarmed?
COUNT ZATERLOO.
I was; or by this hand, poor as I am,
I should have spent a brace of bullets on him
With much good-will.
RAYNER.
Know'st thou the villain's name?
COUNT ZATERLOO.
Faith, I'm almost asham'd to tell it thee.
Thou know'st him well: he is a rich man now;
His name is Hubert.
RAYNER.
There lives no blacker villain on the earth
Than him who bears it.—But thou know'st it all. ”

“ No, till his corse, bereft of life, is found,
Till this is sworn, and prov'd, and witness'd to me,
Within my breast he shall be living still.
Ter. Wilt thou yet vainly watch night after night,
To guide his bark who never will return?
Aur. Who never will return! And thinkest thou
To bear me down with such presumptuous words?
Heaven makes me strong against thee:
There is a Power above that calms the storm,
Restrains the mighty, gives the dead to life:
I will in humble faith my watch still keep;
Force only shall restrain me.
Gar. Force never shall, thou noble, ardent spirit! ”

“ It is not the light of the morn which thou see'st on the skirts of the
heavens;
It is but a clear shiv'ring brightness, that changes its hue to the night.
I have seen it like a bloody-spread robe when it hung o'er the waves of
the North.
Sad was the fate of his love, but how fell the king of Ithona?
I have heard of the strength of his arm; did he fall in the battle of
heroes?
LATHMOR.
He fell in the strength of his youth, but he fell not in battle, my son.
He knew not the sword of a foe, yet he died not the death of the peaceful. ”

“ I have believed true love
Of such a noble, high, confiding nature,
That neither scandal's breath, nor seeming show
Of fitful change, could shake its gen'rous trust.
'T were agony for me to think thee false;
But till thou front me with a rival—yea,
Till thine own words have own'd that thou art faithless—
I will believe thee true.
ROMIERO.
Believe, believe it! and on these dear hands,
A thousand times caress'd, let me be vow'd
Ne'er to offend again thy noble nature
With ev'n the slightest movement of suspicion.
Dost thou relent, Zorada? Dost thou love me? ”

“ HEUGHO.
Oh, that is Othus; a soft letter'd sage,
Who wears his soldier's garb with its first gloss.
STRANGER.
Constantine comes not yet?
HEUGHO.
No; first of all to his imperial dame,
Who o'er his mind a greater influence has
Than may, perhaps, with graver wisdom suit,
Being a dame of keen and lofty passions
Tho' with fair virtues grac'd, he ever pays
His dear devotions: he will join them shortly.
But softly, here they are.
Enter Justiniani, Rodrigo, Othus, and many others of the Emperor's friends, armed as if returned from the walls.
RODRIGO (to Justiniani) . ”

“ Sel. Indeed, good Ethelbert, thou art too warm:
Thou dealest hardly with him.
Eth. I know, tho' peace dilates the heart of man,
And makes his stores increase, his countenance smile,
He is by nature form'd, like savage beasts,
To take delight in war.
'Tis a strong passion in his bosom lodged,
For ends most wise, curb'd and restrain'd to be:
And they who for their own designs do take
Advantage of his nature, act, in truth,
Like cruel hinds who spirit the poor cock
To rend and tear his fellow. ”

“ Thine aching head, like the poor wand'rer's wife,
Who, on his seat of turf, beneath heaven's roof,
Rests on his way.—The storm beats fiercely on us:
Our nature suits not with these worldly times,
To it most adverse. Fortune loves us not;
She hath for us no good: do we retain
Her fetters only? No, thou shalt not go!
(Twining her arms round him.)
By that which binds the peasant and the prince,
The warrior and the slave, all that do bear
The form and nature of a man, I stay thee!
Thou shalt not go.
CONSTANTINE.
Would'st thou degrade me thus? ”

“ LADY WORRYMORE.
⁠Clermont! Have I the pleasure of beholding the writer of that beautiful sonnet, which has been mentioned to me with so much praise?
SIR JOHN (presenting Clermont) .
⁠A poet who will think himself honoured indeed by the notice of such a critic as Lady Worrymore.
LADY WORRYMORE.
⁠O no, Sir John! an ardent admirer of the Muses, but no critic.—To what a charming department of poetry, Mr. Clermont, you have devoted your pen! The sonnet!—the refined, the tender, the divine sonnet! O how it purifies and separates the mind from all commonness and meanness of Nature! ”

“ Prison'd or free, where'er he breathes, lives one
Whom Ethwaid fears. Alas! this thing must be,
From th' imaged form of which I still have shrunk,
And started back as from my fancy's fiend.
The dark and silent cope of night is o'er us,
When vision'd horrours, thro' perturbed sleep,
Harden to deeds of blood the dreamer's breast;
When from the nether world fell demons rise
To guide with lurid flames the murd'rer's way:
I'll wake him now; should morning dawn upon me
My soul again might from its purpose swerve.
(in a loud energetic voice.)
Alwy, awake! Sleepest thou? ”

“ RAYNER.
I thank thee for thy wish;
It is a good one, tho' thou canst not speak it,
And it will do me good. But leave me! leave me!
Thou wilt unfit me for a task of strength.
(Elizabeth again attempts to go away, but still returns.)
Ah, wherefore still! wilt thou be cruel to me?
ELIZABETH.
O, no! O, no! I know not what I do:
It is all mist and darkness with me now:
I look upon thee, but I see thee not.
Let me once more but feel thy hand in mine
And send me where ye will: my being then
Is at an end. ”

“ SEBASTIAN.
Rise, dearest, kindest, best, mine own Zorada!
Yes, child; thou shalt be all the world to me;
But it must be a faint, ideal world.
I may in dreams, in thought, in musing fancy
Behold thy face, thy form,—may hear thy voice—
But many a league of ocean and of land
Must lie between us. Ev'n my dying day
Will not be lighten'd with one look of thine.
ZORADA (after weeping on his neck) .
We do not know what Heaven appoints for us.
SEBASTIAN.
Has Don Romiero spoken aught to thee
Respecting my sad fate?
ZORADA.
He has: 'tis true—the horrid tale is true. ”

“ SCENE II. A garden, with a temple seen at some distance, in which are discovered Lady Sarah, Sophia, Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont, and William Beaumont, as if seated after breakfast, whilst Gardener and one or two of the Servants skulk near the front of the stage, behind some hushes, looking at them.
Gar. Bride indeed! she's as unlovely a looking piece of goods as ever I look'd upon. See how she stares at every thing about her, and curls up her nose like a girkin! I'll warrant you she'll be all thro' my kitchen grounds by-and-by, to count over my cabbages. ”

“ ELIZABETH.
O no! as are our hearts, our way is one,
And cannot be divided. Strong affection
Contends with all things, and o'ercometh all things,
I will unto thee cling with strength so terrible,
That human hands the hold will ne'er unlock.
RAYNER.
Alas, my love! these are thy words of woe,
And have no meaning but to speak thy woe:
Dark fate hangs o'er us, and we needs must part.
The strong affection that o'ercometh all things,
Shall fight for us indeed, and shall o'ercome:
But in a better world the vantage lies
Which it shall gain for us ”

“ BEATRICE.
And yet how fair and bright the morning shines,
As if it laugh'd at all the late turmoil.
There's not a cloud in the whole azure sky.
ZORADA.
None, save those little wanderers, pure as snow,
That, like bewilder'd things, are hasting on
Like sea-birds to their rock.—What men are these?
Enter Mariners, &c.
FIRST MARINER.
We are, an' please ye, good and noble lady.
Poor shipwreck'd seamen, cast upon your shore;
Our all is lost; and we are spent and faint
For want of food.
ZORADA.
Ye shall not want it long. ”

“ And now, dear maid, thou pearl and gem of beauty,
The prize for which this bloody fray was fought,
Wilt thou forgive a youthful lover's boldness,
And the rude outrage by his love committed?
Wilt thou not speak to me?
BRIDE.
What can I say?
I was the destined bride of great Rasinga;
My father told me so.
SAMARKOON.
But did thy heart—
Did thine own heart, sweet maid, repeat the tale?
And did it say to thee, "The elder chieftain
Is he whom I approve; his younger rival
Unworthy of my choice?"
BRIDE.
My choice! a modest virgin hath no choice. ”