SCENE III. THE INSIDE OF THE CAVE. BASIL discovered lying on the ground, with his head raised a little upon a few stones and earth, the pistols lying beside him, and blood upon his breast. Enter ROSINBERG, VALTOMER, and OFFICERS. Rosinberg, upon seeing Basil, stops short with horror, and remains motionless for some time. Valt. Great God of heaven! what a sight is this! (Rosinberg runs to Basil, and stoops down by his side.) Ros. (making a sign for the Officers to retire.) 'Tis but a sentry, to prevent intrusion. Bas. Thou know'st this desperate deed from sacred rites Hath shut me out: I am unbless'd of men, Ros. O Basil! O my friend! what hast thou May not some heavenly mercy still be found? done? Bas. (covering his face with his hand.) Why art thou come? I thought to die in peace. Ros. Thou know'st 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, disgraced; 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 generous, valiant leader still, Fall'n as thou art-and yet thou art not fall'n; Who says thou art, must put his harness on, And prove his words in blood. Bas. Ah Rosinberg! this is no time to boast! For that I now remember how oft-times Ros. (taking Basil's hand, and pressing it to his breast.) Rend not my heart in twain! O talk not thus ! I knew thou wert superior to myself, Bas. It was delusion, all delusion, Rosinberg' Bas. It doubles unto me the stroke of death To hear thee name her thus. O curse her not! The fault is mine; she's gentle, good and blameless. Thou wilt not then my dying wish fulfil ? Ros. I will! I will! what wouldst thou have me do? Bas. See her when I am gone; be gentle with her; Ros. I'll do what thou desirest. near. Ros. Thou wilt find mercy-my beloved Basil→ It cannot be that thou shouldst be rejected. I will with bended knee-I will imploreIt choaks mine utterance-I will pray for theeBas. This comforts me-thou art a loving friend. (A noise without.) Ros. (to Off. without.) What noise is that? Enter VALTOMER. Valt. (to Ros) My lord, the soldiers all insist to enter. What shall I do? they will not be denied: Enter SOLDIERS, who gather round BASIL, and look mournfully upon him; he holds out his hand to them with a faint smile. Bas. My generous soldiers, this is kindly meant. I'm low in the dust; God bless you all, brave hearts! 1st Sol. And God bless you, my noble, noble general! We'll never follow such a leader more. 2d Sol. Ah! had you stayed with us, my noble general, We would have died for you. (3d Soldier endeavours next to speak, but cannot ; and kneeling down by Basil, covers his face with his cloak. Rosinberg turns his face to the wall and weeps.) Bas. (in a very faint broken voice.) Where art thou? do not leave me, Rosinberg Come near to me-these fellows make me weep: Ros. Is there aught thou wouldst desire? Bas. Naught but a little earth to cover me, And lay the smooth sod even with the groundLet no stone mark the spot-give no offence. I fain would say—what can I say to thee? (A deep pause; after a feeble struggle, Basil expires.) 1st Sol. That motion was his last. 2d Sol. His spirit's fled. 1st Sol. God grant it peace! it was a noble spirit! 4th Sol. The trumpet's sound did never rouse a braver. 1st Sol. Alas! no trumpet e'er shall rouse him more, (Raising his head a little, and perceiving Of Until the dreadful blast that wakes the dead. ficers.) Is there not some one here? are we alone? 2d Sol. And when that sounds it will not wake a braver. 3d Sol. How pleasantly he shared our hardest toil! Our coarsest food the daintiest fare he made. 4th Sol. Ay, many a time, i' the cold damp plain has he With cheerful countenance cried, "Good rest, my Then wrapp'd him in his cloak, and laid him down (Rosinberg all this time continues hanging over Valt. This is too sad, my lord. Vict. (recovering.) Unloose thy hold, and let me O! horrid, horrid sight! my ruin'd Basil! (Kneels down by the body and bends over it.) Ros. There, seest thou how he lies? so fix'd, so And dost not hear my call.- Ah! what an end is this! thus lost! thus fall'n! Ros. He was the younger brother of my soul. Ros. He was-O! he was like no other man! Ros. Shall we not remove him hence? He would not give offence. 1st Sol. What shall our general, like a very Be laid unhonour'd in the common ground? No warlike honours paid? it shall not be. 2d Sol. Laid thus? no, by the blessed light of heaven! In the most holy spot in Mantua's walls He shall be laid: in face of day be laid; Ros. No, madam; now your pity comes too late. it! Ros. No, madam, no, I will not now upbraid: Vict. No, never, never! thus it shall not be. I'm fretted, gall'd, all things are hateful to me. (Victoria goes to throw herself upon the body but Vict. O force me not away! by his cold corse, And though black priests should curse us in the If there is any holy kindness in you, teeth, We will fire o'er him whilst our hands have power Tear me not hence. Several Soldiers. Let those who dare forbid it! For see a mournful visiter appears, Enter VICTORIA and ISABELLA. Vict. I thought to find him here, where has he fled? (Rosinberg points to the body without speaking. Victoria shrieks out and falls into the arms of Isabella.) (to Isab. and Valt.) For he loved me in thoughtless folly lost, Near his lone tomb I'll spend my wretched days It doth subdue the sternness of my grief Isab. Alas! my gentle mistress, this will kill Whose crooked policy has wrought this wreck! thee. Isab. If he has done it, you, are well revenged, Ros. Give me thy hand, I'm glad on't, O! I'm glad on't! It should be so! How like a hateful ape To close the oppressive splendour of his day, I cannot tell thee; Man. Ah! but he is not now the man he was. Liberal he'll be. God grant he may be quiet. Jer. What has befall'n him? Man. But faith, there is no living with him now. Jer. And yet methinks, if I remember well, You were about to quit his service, Manuel, When last he left this house. You grumbled then. Man. I've been upon the eve of leaving him These ten long years; for many times is he So difficult, capricious, and distrustful, He galls my nature-yet, I know not how, A secret kindness binds me to him still. Jer. Some, who offend from a suspicious nature, Will afterward such fair confession make As turns e'en th' offence into a favour. Man. Yes, some indeed do so: so will not he: He'd rather die than such confession make. Jer. Ay, thou art right; for now I call to mind That once he wrong'd me with unjust suspicion, When first he came to lodge beneath my roof And when it so fell out that I was proved Most guiltless of the fault, I truly thought He would have made profession of regret. But silent, haughty, and ungraciously He bore himself as one offended still. Yet shortly after, when unwittingly I did him some slight service, o' the sudden He overpower'd me with his grateful thanks, And would not be restrain'd from pressing on me A noble recompense. I understood His o'erstrain'd gratitude and bounty well, I would have left him many years ago, Man. No, he departed all unknown to her, Jer. All this is strange-something disturbs his mind Belike he is in love. No, Jerome, no. Man. Jer. Hear I not horses trampling at the gate? (Listening.) He is arrived-stay thou-I had forgot- [EXIT hastily. (A great bustle without. Exrr Manuel with lights, and returns again, lighting in DE MONFORT, as if just alighted from his journey.) Jer. Here is a little of the favourite wine That you were wont to praise. Pray honour me. (Fills a glass.) De Mon. (after drinking.) I thank you, Jerome, Jer. Ay, my dear wife did ever make it so. Alas, my lord! she's dead. De Mon. Well, then she is at rest. Jer. Wo's me! I thought you would have She was a kindly soul! Before she died, And but the morning ere she breathed her last, Man. Your ancient host, my lord, receives you❘ Indeed I fear I have distress'd you, sir; De Mon. Move what thou wilt, and trouble me To make this cursed noise? (To Manuel.) Go to no more. (Manuel, with the assistance of other Servants, sets about putting the things in order, and De Monfort remains sitting in a thoughtful posture.) the gate. It is some drunkards on their nightly rounds, Jer. I hear unusual voices-here they come. Enter JEROME, bearing wine, &c. on a salver. As he Re-enter MANUEL, showing in Count FREBERG and his approaches DE MONFORT, MANUEL pulls him by the sleeve. Man. (aside to Jerome.) No, do not now; he will not be disturb'd. LADY, with a mask in her hand. Freb. (running to embrace De Mon.) My dearest Monfort! most unlook'd for pleasure! Do I indeed embrace thee here again? Jer. What, not to bid him welcome to my house, I saw thy servant standing by the gate, And offer some refreshment? Softly a little while: I prithee do. Jer. (aside to Manuel.) Ah, Manuel, what an His face recall'd, and learnt the joyful tidings. De Mon. I thank thee, Freberg, for this friendly (Bowing to the lady.) Lady, I fear, my lord, We do intrude at an untimely hour: But now, returning from a midnight mask, My husband did insist that we should enter. Freb. No, say not so; no hour untimely call, Which doth together bring long absent friends. 'Tis your old landlord, sir. Dear Monfort, why hast thou so slyly play'd, Jer. I joy to see you here-I crave your pardon-To come upon us thus so suddenly? His eyes are hollow, and his cheeks are pale- De Mon. O! many varied thoughts do cross our brain, Which touch the will, but leave the memory trackless ; Lady. (turning from him displeased to Mon.) You And meets not this man's love.-Friends! rarest are fatigued, my lord; you want repose; Say, should we not retire? Ha! is it so? Freb. My friend, your face is pale, have you been ill? De Mon. No, Freberg, no; I think I have been well. Freb. (shaking his head.) I fear thou hast not, We'll re-establish thee: we'll banish pain. friends! Rather than share his undiscerning praise With every table wit, and bookform'd sage, And paltry poet puling to the moon, I'd court from him proscription, yea, abuse, And think it proud distinction. [EXIT. JEROME'S HOUSE; A TABLE AND BREAKFAST SET OUT. Enter De MONFORT, followed by MANUEL, and sets himself down by the table, with a cheerful face. De Mon. Manuel, this morning's sun shines pleasantly: These old apartments too are light and cheerful. De Mon. Thus, it is true, from the sad years of He serves as though he loved me. This pure air Freb. Judge for thyself: in truth I do not There are no serpents in our pleasant fields. De Mon. Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world But those who slide along the grassy sod, Do bask their spotted skins in fortune's sun, Man. Heaven guard your honour from such horrid scath! They are but rare, I hope ? De Mon. (shaking his head.) We mark the hollow eye, the wasted frame, The gait disturb'd of wealthy honour'd men, But do not know the cause. Man. 'Tis very true. God keep you well, my lord! De Mon. I thank thee, Manuel, I am very well. I shall be gay too, by the setting sun. |