S-:l 
 
 tnew ]l?orl! 
 
 •Cbc iknichcrbocher prces 
 
 1903 
 
THE LtB»'*R"< OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two Copies Rec*ive< 
 
 SEP 4 1903 
 
 CLASS ^ XXe. No 
 COPY B. 
 
 70 35 
 
 <'?/^ 
 
 
 Cnl'VKKIHI , 11)03 
 
 i:\ KKAKD ROliKRTS 
 
>/ 
 
 THE DISCONSOLATE MONARCH 
 
 persons represented 
 King. 
 
 Duke of Combra. 
 Fredrico, a suitor. 
 Urbanio, a banished Duke. 
 BoLERio, chamberlain to the King. 
 Fernando, 
 
 ■Tk^,,^..^^^ ( Courtiers 
 
 DOMENICO, 
 
 Merano, a General in the King's army. 
 
 Rinaldo. 
 
 Baseno, a soldier. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 
 Lieutenant, l 
 
 Sergeant, >• Of the King's army. 
 
 corporai,, ) 
 
 Soldier-Phii^osopher. 
 
 A Page. 
 
 A Priest. 
 
 1ST Attendant, ) t ^.u t^- > 
 
 . ' > In the King s service. 
 
 2D Attendant, j ** 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Princess Cari^otta, in love with the Duke of Combra. 
 
 Clarissa, maid in attendance on the Princess. 
 
 Lady of the Court. 
 
 Floretta, ) 
 
 RosETTA, > Village girls. 
 
 Bella, ) 
 
 Ladies of the Court, Soldiers, and Village Girls. 
 
 ITALY, SIXTEENTH CENTURY 
 1 
 
Bet m 
 
THE DISCONSOLATE MONARCH 
 
 Act I. Scene i. 
 
 An apartment in the King^s castle. Enter Fernando and 
 Domenico. 
 
 Fernando. 
 Believe me, sir, till now I heard it not. 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 Not heard it ! Pray, whither have you been ? 
 Or have you slept ? that this sad news, 
 Now common unto all. 
 Hath thus escaped you. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 From far Arezzo I have just returned. 
 Where I a courier from the King was sent. 
 While there was I a witness to a strife 
 So hot, so bloody, so with fury waged. 
 That to my awe-filled mind my ears gave place, 
 
 5 
 
6 ^be Disconsolate /Ibonarcb 
 
 Which else had doubtless heard her going hence. 
 When happened this ? When was the Princess missed ? 
 
 Donienico. 
 
 Her custom ever early to arise, 
 
 And at the appointed hour went her maid 
 
 To give her 'tendance. Vacant her chamber. 
 
 Her maid, with unaroused suspicion, sits 
 
 Her Highness's return. An hour elapses; 
 
 Fears upon her grow, and in their heat 
 
 And fullness she doth make the Princess' absence 
 
 known. 
 The King, thus sudden taken, swoons and mocks. 
 The Court Physician's skill, 
 At length revives, yet scarcely is himself. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 The Queen ? 
 
 Domefiico. 
 
 Calml}^ she bore herself, as one who long had 
 Studied for the part which she therein enacted, 
 As one, indeed, who having lost a daughter 
 Heeded not she had a daughter lost. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Grieves yet the King ? 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 Where love is great, 
 
 Great grief doth ever follow the loss of love. 
 Oh, when or where was daughter so beloved 
 As she of him ! He did adore her, 
 
act H. Scene I 7 
 
 Moulded ever his life to her life's pleasure, 
 And as his grief is, so his rage doth run, 
 O'erpowering opposition. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 What man hath done this ? 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 Villain rather. One of your sweet gallants, 
 A lord, a foreigner, a sneak in velvet, 
 A conjurer, one whose practised art 
 Hath caught her eye in love, 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Think you so ? 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 It must be so. Had she not here a lover. 
 Countenanced, and led by both their Majesties, 
 A lover fervent, one who has assailed for months. 
 With love, love's citadel, and should ere this have 
 Carried it, having the means which he in person has, 
 A form and face to catch and captivate 
 The eyes of all beholders. 
 
 Gentle his disposition. 
 His words, like prayers, so measuredly do flow 
 That all who hear them do upon him look 
 As on some holy man. 
 
 Indeed, were I a woman 
 I could not sleep but I should dream of him. 
 Nor wake but unto him my thoughts compose. 
 Deem it a rapture but to look on him, 
 Each minute lost not in his company spent, 
 My pleasure ever to hear his voice, and hold it, 
 
8 ^bc Disconsolate /Hbonarcb 
 
 To warn with envious eye all others off 
 
 That I alone might have it. 
 
 No woman's cunning to win his favor 
 
 But should be mine. If then his heart respond not, 
 
 Then to die would be to me a pleasure, 
 
 A pleasure equal to the love I bore, 
 
 Yea, even then would bear him. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Mean you Fredrico ? 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 He. Could she have wished a better man 
 To be to her a husband ? 
 
 Fernando. 
 If he have virtues to his graces equal, 
 As you recount them, then is this man a saint. 
 
 Domenico. 
 So shine his virtues 
 That, know the world no ending, 
 It can produce no nobler gentleman. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Tush, tush! 
 
 Do7nenico. 
 Believe it, 
 
 I am in human nature deeply versed, 
 Or have my years unprofitably passed. 
 Or I to dotage. 
 
 Fernando. 
 Suppose him all you speak him, it avails not. 
 lyove not alone on beauty looks, but where he loves, 
 
act ir. Scene I 9 
 
 And deems her beautiful beyond compare 
 Who in all others' eyes is homely called. 
 This is Love's right, Love's sole prerogative. 
 
 Domejiico. 
 
 All this I know. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Opposed, Love's course grows strong, 
 And faster yet it flows. 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 True. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 The King himself did worship at Love's shrine, 
 At Love's dictation married, and o'erbore 
 Parental precept. Therefore, knows he well 
 The fallacy of hope. 
 
 Domenico. 
 The King doth come, let us pass on. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Pardon me, this packet must I straight 
 Deliver him. 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 Now to approach is now to anger him 
 
 Beyond the bounds of anger. Nothing will he speak, 
 
 But of the Princess. Come ! 
 
10 ttbe Digconsolate /Hbonarcb 
 
 Ferna7ido. 
 
 I thank you. 
 
 [Exeunt Fernando and Domenico. 
 Enter King supported, Queen, and Retinue.] 
 
 King. 
 
 Let me go. He is best supported who himself supports. 
 
 Give me my staff. Let me go I say ! 
 
 My wrath shall bear me up though sorrow pluck 
 
 Strength from my aged form. 
 
 What, lives there no man, not one, not even a King, 
 
 From misery exempt. 
 
 Q^leen. 
 
 Take comfort. 
 
 King. 
 
 I am upon the rack, thou torturest me ; 
 Comfort there is none, and cannot be 
 For such as I. Deign not to notice me. 
 These halls shall be my kingdom, and I myself 
 Will King and subject be 
 Unto myself. More I crave not. 
 Unless it be the hollow of a cave, 
 To dwell and die in, 
 Unseen of mortal eye. 
 
 grief excessive, that doth welcome death, 
 Such grief is mine, and I do welcome death. 
 Thou fear-inspiring conqueror, grim and gaunt. 
 Nature's sure agent, death, receive me now; 
 
 1 now am best conditioned, most prepared. 
 To give thee welcome. 
 
^■^^ 
 
act IT. Scene I il 
 
 Unheralded come, even as the shock of her departure, 
 And pass me straight to that oblivious state, 
 Which here no waking knows. 
 
 Quee?i. 
 
 My Lord. 
 
 King. 
 
 Villain thou, not face to face, but coward like, 
 Yea, even from behind, dealt thou 
 Thy murderous blow. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Fill him, kind Heaven, with patience! 
 
 King. 
 
 Fill me, ye demons, full of hellish hate 
 
 Against this precious ruffian. If it in aught abate, 
 
 Scourge me! To madness drive me. 
 
 From me all comfort take, here and hereafter, 
 
 To hell consign me. 
 
 Let me not sleep, nor grave my sorrow keep. 
 
 Till my revenge be full. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 You know not what you speak. 
 
 King. 
 
 I cannot play the hypocrite and smile. 
 Laugh and be merry, when I feel that within 
 Which outward proof bears slight 
 Proportion to. 
 
13 ^be Didconeolate Abonaccb 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Let us within ourselves our sorrows keep, 
 
 Feel, not express them for outer sympathy, 
 
 Which the cold world denies 
 
 And often mocks. 
 
 I have seen a band of romping revellers go by 
 
 To merry music, — on one side they, 
 
 A funeral at the other, each its own way pursuing. 
 
 And when they came together, then, oh, then 
 
 Did they most play, most shout, 
 
 And make most merry. 
 
 King. 
 
 'T is a cold world. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 And when it alter, 
 
 Look thou to see a miracle performed, 
 
 Or look for doomsday. 
 
 King. 
 
 What need you go the round-about of words 
 To tell us this, which is of all men known. 
 
 If you would speak 
 Let it be of things to us unknown. 
 That it, or knowledge or amusement give, 
 Not waste the time with nothing. For we are old, 
 And age alone doth know 
 How swift of foot is time. 
 
 Queeji. 
 These humors are unlike you. Be yourself. 
 
act ir. Scene I 13 
 
 King. 
 
 Who can his nature alter ? 
 Who himself transform from that he is ? 
 Oh, she is fled, and I perforce am fled, 
 Being of her composed. Who comes ? 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Enter Fredrico. '^ 
 
 Fredrico. 
 How fare your gracious Majesties ? 
 King, 
 
 Alas, how fares it with you, 
 
 Whose generous nature, kinsman to mine own, 
 
 Needs feels the loss it suffers ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 All, all is darkness. 
 
 King. 
 
 I pity thee. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Nature in me her functions so poorly holds, 
 
 I do nor sleep nor wake, scarce know what 't is I speak, 
 
 Or what to speak, that can my sympathy and sorrow 
 
 show, 
 On this occasion sad. 
 
 King. 
 
 Bear witness, Heaven, I never gave her cause. 
 But did at all times all my acts conform 
 To her and happiness. 
 
14 Hbe Dieconsolatc Monarch 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Oh, true it is, 
 We in appreciation lack of those rich gifts we have, 
 Until we lose them. 
 
 King. 
 
 What mean you? You loved her much. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 The heart alone, if it could speak. 
 
 Could all love's passion pour, in language adequate, 
 
 Unequalled though I thought it, yet, oh, much more 
 
 Is now my love than e'er it was before. 
 
 Beseech you, pardon me these heavy tears, 
 
 That have since morning flowed. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 (Aside to Pedro.) 
 All is not grief that seems so. 
 
 Pedro. 
 (Aside to Bolerio.) 
 An onion at the eyes will water bring. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 (Aside to Pedro.) 
 I do suspect this lover grievously. 
 
 Ki}ig. 
 
 If tears speak aught they truly speak thy love,— 
 Since thou dost weep, then so again will I, 
 If for no more than for thy company. 
 I have far greater cause than thou to weep 
 
Bet "IT. Scene I 15 
 
 Was she not mine, of my own blood begot, — 
 Kin is no tie against the force of love. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Love is a mystery. 
 
 King. 
 
 Oh, that with tears we could our daughter bring 
 Again to our embrace, then would I weep indeed, 
 Then would these fountains flow, so copious flow, 
 That I with tears would all my sorrow drown 
 And to my bosom clasp my Love again. 
 
 Queen. 
 What need of tears, 
 Have I not said that she will be returned ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Oh, that, your Majesty, is music sweet 
 As ever came to ear. 
 
 King. 
 
 To me, 't is discord, prithee speak no more. 
 Must I with this delusion gorge myself, 
 Build with my life immoderate expectation 
 That, when it fall, falls not itself alone, 
 But life and all. 
 
 Queen. 
 If it prove not true. 
 To farming and to profit turn 
 Our high-priced soldiery. 
 
 Enter a Page, who delivers a letter to the Queen, which she 
 reads. Exit Page.'\ 
 
16 Zbc 2)i6con0olate Aonarcb 
 
 (To Bolerio.) 
 
 My fears, less for Carlotta's safety than our own, 
 
 Grow strong. She cannot long escape us, while we. 
 
 From rebellion's thraldom never may be free. 
 
 What hear you of these miscreants ? What new news 
 
 impart ? 
 Our fears to quell, and comfort give my heart. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 All news first to your Majesty 
 Is at once conveyed. 
 
 Quee7i. 
 
 Fernando, tardy courier, in thee 
 
 Lie all my hopes. What hear you of him ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Madam, nothing. 
 
 Quee?i. 
 Nothing, of course. 
 Come, follow close, 
 I may have need of thee. 
 
 [Exit Queen, followed by Bolerio. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Well, fare you well, 
 I cannot proffer comfort, feeling none, 
 And better 't is I from your presence go. 
 
 King. 
 
 Whither would you ? 
 
act 1. Scene X 17 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Whither my footsteps lead me, I know not whither, 
 
 Or east or west, a wanderer till death. 
 
 My haunts shall be without the sight of man, 
 
 That I alone may with myself commune, 
 
 And tax the world with harshness. 
 
 King. 
 I '11 bear thee company. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Your Majesty ? 
 
 King. 
 
 I, even I, if thou wilt suffer me; 
 
 Better than youth age oft his burden bears. 
 
 If thou hast fear, fear not, I will not trouble thee, 
 
 I '11 bravely on, and my own part sustain, 
 
 Yea, journey unaided on. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Though much I would your Majesty would grace. 
 And ease my steps with loving company, 
 Yet must I such a cruel thought forbear, 
 Viewing thy years and regal quality. 
 
 King. 
 
 Why speak you thus ? Think you I am infirm ? 
 
 Of strength incapable ? One who can endure not 
 
 The vicissitudes of travel ? Dispel thy thoughts, 
 
 And youth in age look on, 
 
 On me, whose vigor does the envy draw 
 
 Of men of middle life. 
 
18 Zbe Dtsconsolate ^onaccb 
 
 True, I am old, but age a blessing is, 
 With health and vigor coupled. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Happy he who at thy age can show 
 So sturdy frame. 
 
 King. 
 
 What wouldst thou do, but I may therein join, 
 And lose no credit by comparison. 
 Wouldst walk? Wouldst run ? 
 
 Wouldst face the winter's storm ? the blast tempestu- 
 ous? 
 Or hatless brave the rays of summer's sun ? 
 Or hunger feel ? or bedless seek thy rest ? 
 The turf thy pillow ? Heaven thy canopy ? 
 Or wouldst thou face a greater peril still, 
 As in some wilderness to luckless roam 
 A prey to beasts and vile necessity ? 
 If thou wouldst these, or any danger dare, 
 Why, so would I, and therein comfort find. 
 Denied me here in this extremity. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Couldst thou all this endure ? 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 
 What can he not endure, 
 
 Who has endured 
 
 The sudden losing of a daughter loved. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 But do not of this matter further think. 
 
act 11. Scene I 19 
 
 Lest further thinking fix it in your mind, 
 
 And firmly root it there. This is thy kingdom 
 
 King. 
 Say rather my kingly care. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 And may your Majesty long live to wear 
 The jewelled emblem of authority. 
 
 King. 
 
 Mean you my crown ? 
 Go fetch it, boy, that we may on it look [Exit Page. 
 And of its worth give true significance. 
 To me it did an heritage descend. 
 Borne on the brows of many monarchs dead. 
 Brief were the reigns of some, of others long. 
 Would some had died, ere they their reigns began. 
 If with our life, our wicked acts could die, 
 And lie disturbed not in the silent tomb, 
 Oppression base, and heart-wrung agony, 
 From the quick gaze and hearing of the world 
 Would then be hid, and they succeeding. 
 All the happier feel. 
 With knowledge only of our better deeds. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Would it were so. 
 
 King. 
 
 The crown I sought not, never did wish it mine, 
 Nor want it now, though I have worn it long ; 
 They most do power wish who most it lack. 
 
20 XLbe Didconeolate Abonaccb 
 
 As 't were, indeed, a virtue Heaven-born. 
 Oh, if it were, would men for power strive, 
 And vex their souls with purpose to attain it. 
 Or would they not, as they most virtues do, 
 Pass it unheeded by ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Most true. 
 Enter Page, bearing crown on a cushion.] 
 
 King. 
 
 What shall it stead me, dead, and passed away, 
 
 To fill a page in kingly history, 
 
 To have it thereon writ that I was bom 
 
 In such or such a day. In such or such a day 
 
 My reign began, and then to chronicle 
 
 My date of death — and this is all — 
 
 Where is my crown that late I bade thee bring ? 
 
 Page. 
 
 'T is here, your Majesty. 
 
 King. 
 
 My crown, God's mercy, here I lay it down, 
 
 I^t him who wants it wear it. (Places crown 
 
 It is but as a flinty, unkept road, on the floor.) 
 
 And I, the wearer, journeying thereon, 
 
 A traveller unshod. 
 
 Enter Queen and Bolerio.'\ 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Take up the crown, and bear it safely hence, 
 Against all further folly. 
 
act H. Scene I 21 
 
 sir, you well acquit yourself. 
 
 Know you not the dignity of royalty demands 
 A more enlarged respect than now you give it ? 
 
 King. 
 
 The dignity of royalty, forsooth, 
 What 's royalty, now every man is royal ? 
 What man so low but he his fellow tops, 
 And of his fellow that observance seeks, 
 Which he to him denies ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Greatness grows cheap 
 When every man grows great. Come good report, 
 
 1 '11 be in person near, to give it greeting; 
 If not, farewell, a final, sad, affectionate 
 Farewell. 
 
 (Embraces the King.) 
 
 King. 
 
 I '11 to my chamber, 
 
 There with myself commune. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 (Aside, near exit.) 
 
 I court thy favors. Fortune, wilt thou come ? 
 If not, I care not, Fortune, I despise thee ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 (To Bolerio.) 
 
 Go, attend the King. 
 
 [Exit Bolerio. 
 
22 Zbe Disconsolate flbonarcb 
 
 So is ill fortune by ill fortune followed, 
 
 That once we meet it, scarce a question 't is, 
 
 It will o'erwhelm or end us. 
 
 The last the worst, a stroke, and more severe, 
 
 Never did fortune to a nation give. 
 
 'T is now rebellion's turn, and now it comes. 
 
 Yea, come it is, with monster head upraised, 
 
 And serpent-like, its fangs outstretching far, 
 
 Its hideous hisses fill the ambient air. 
 
 And fill mine ears, and fill my mind with fear. 
 
 Why should I fear, who never yet did fear 
 
 Or man or woman born ? Yet, yet, I fear. 
 
 This horde rebellious, lacking check, might run 
 
 Our kingdom o'er, and dire destruction bring. 
 
 But where 's Fernando, oh, where is he, 
 
 Who some da3's since we to the army sent ? 
 
 Hath he returned not ? And hath no news come ? 
 
 Domenico. 
 No news, your Majesty. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Ill news flies fast 't is said, which, if it be true, 
 Then, must this tardy messenger bring cheer 
 Our doubts to kill, and banish quite our fear. 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 Now spoke of, now he comes. 
 
 Enter Fernando.'\ 
 
 Queen. 
 What news ? What news, Fernando ? 
 
act If. Scene I 23 
 
 Ferna7ido. 
 The news I bring, herein in full 't is written. 
 Receive, I pray, this packet, which done, 
 Is my commission ended. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Bear it within, that preparation — if preparation must — 
 
 May quickly follow reading. Stay, take it, thou. 
 
 Is it or ill or good news ? Do not speak, 
 
 Or if you speak, say not thy news is ill. 
 
 What foolish questioning it is I have ! 
 
 If ill 't is ill, words cannot alter it. 
 
 Suspected ills our fears do magnify 
 
 To large proportions, baseless oft they are. 
 
 Or at the worst, being known, the worst is o'er. 
 
 Speak! 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Grant me leave my loyalty to show, 
 By kissing first the hand of Majesty. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 This for thyself ; canst thou for others speak 
 So much of fealty, — who should as bulwarks 
 This, our throne, surround, not seek with actions 
 
 riotous 
 To o'erthrow that which was precious to them. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Men's lives to men most precious 
 Are by this rebel horde so lightly held. 
 That they their lives surrender willingly 
 In onslaught fierce against the soldiery. 
 
34 Zbc Disconsolate /Bonaccb 
 
 Queen. 
 Death be the end of all 
 
 Who stake their lives 'gainst that of sovereignty. 
 What, are they all dispersed ? 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 I did but speak to prove their bravery, 
 Which like a wall unflinchingly withstood 
 The bullets showered on them — 
 
 Fast they fell, 
 And strewed the ground with groaning 
 Bodies o'er. 
 
 Queen. 
 Good, good, I say ! What more ? 
 
 Fernando. 
 Undaunted still. 
 
 Still did they close and once again renew 
 Their oft-repulsed attack. 
 O'ercome at last by numbers powerful, 
 Broke we our ranks and ran. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 We! Who? 
 
 Fernando. 
 Unchecked, uncheckable, all arms abandoned. 
 Horse, foot, and all, in one mixed body sped. 
 Nor ceased, till we our safety had secured 
 By distance placed far from the enemy. 
 
 Queen. 
 Speak what thou canst. 
 Thou canst not me amaze, 
 
act -ff. Scene I 25 
 
 More than thou hast already. 
 
 Oh, act of cowardice, 
 
 How basely dost thou in a soldier show, 
 
 When children charged therewith do blush for shame, 
 
 And strongly press denial. 
 
 Oh, who his hearing can so perfect have, 
 
 But he may doubt of it. 
 
 My ears, susceptible to fear, convert 
 
 All they do hear to fear. 
 
 Said you our soldiers ran ? 
 
 Ferna7ido. 
 
 I would I could as truthfully deny 
 What I with truth have spoken. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Some evil spirit doth hover hereabout, 
 
 And vents his venom on us. 
 
 Soldiers and run, whose happy privilege it is to die, 
 
 To die to uphold the glorious name of soldier. 
 
 Pursued these miscreants far ? 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 To Borona, 
 Which must hereafter in our memories live, 
 And the sorrowing minds of those who 
 Dwelt there. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Burnt they the village ? 
 
 Fernando. 
 Churches and all. 
 
26 XLbc Diaconsolate flbonarcb 
 
 Queen. 
 
 God's vengeance be upon them. 
 Whence sprang this turmoil ? 
 Know you yet the cause ? 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 From so sHght cause, till now, rebellion came not. 
 
 Two citizens in altercation meet. 
 
 Whose heated words to heavy blows succumb, 
 
 A common sight, and lightly thought upon. 
 
 The source alone, whence this rebellion sprung, 
 
 Strange it appears, and yet 't is true as strange 
 
 That single combat still itself maintains, 
 
 In this, the present, struggle. Oh, thus it was: 
 
 The friends of each, a numerous throng, appear. 
 
 Hot as their principals, and therein engage. 
 
 Queen. 
 The wise to human brawls are ever blind. 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Not so thought they, those many citizens, 
 
 Who then and there did eagerly attempt 
 
 The maddened mob to quell. 
 
 Vain were their eflforts. Furiously assailed. 
 
 They blow for blow exchange, and soon become 
 
 In the dense mob incorporate. 
 
 A surging mass the street its limit fills 
 
 Of struggling humanity. 
 
 The loud-mouthed bells do now their clamor vent. 
 
 And sleeping citizens in fear awake. 
 
 Possessed with dread, scarce of their clothes possessed, 
 
 Fast to the street they run ; 
 
act H. Scene I 27 
 
 A human current meets them, in which 
 They are themselves dissolved. 
 
 Queen. 
 Came not the officers ? Oh, where were they ? 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Oh, when did justice save on crutches come. 
 The tardy officers at length approach, 
 In numbers strong, with stately mien they come. 
 Their presence known, much wonder they to see 
 The mob defiant still. I will be brief, 
 Success, success attends. Justice is routed, 
 And the masses join the mob victorious. 
 Now more rampant grown. 
 
 Qtieen. 
 
 What beast, if capable, would act like man, 
 Proud man, with reason blessed ! 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Oh, more to speak were still in tones unchangeable 
 To speak. To speak success unbroken, 
 Violence committed, Justice herself defied. 
 Dethroned, and trampled on. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 It is enough. 
 Too much could less have done. 
 With death let cowardice like treason meet. 
 For so it shall, while yet we hold our crown 
 And of our realm retain authority. 
 Who of our generals led ? 
 
28 XLbc 2)l9con0Olate /Ibonarcb 
 
 fcrna?ido. 
 The gallant Merano. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Gallant, ungallant, Merano, lead no more, 
 No more of ours be thou an oflScer. 
 Forthwith we will our royal court convene, 
 Whose searching inquiry will doubtless be 
 To thee a coward's doom. 
 
 I^ernando. 
 (Aside.) 
 
 How brief to man is fame, 
 
 Whose giddy height and treacherous footing, fall, 
 
 Its bearer to the ground. 
 
 Oh, so to die, 't is pity. 
 
 He ne'er for valor ever met reproof, 
 
 Till came this late disaster to destroy. 
 
 And all at once, his fair fame's history. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 It steads him not his record past is good, 
 
 For we must to ourselves some mercy show 
 
 And to our subjects all. 
 
 Call you it mercy that does one life spare, 
 
 With peril to the many ? No. 
 
 Mercy best is shown when we with mercy 
 
 Most of good perform unto the many. 
 
 'T is not the past, man's present acts we view 
 
 And thereby judge of man. 
 
 We look not upward for the great who fall, 
 
 But where they fall, and as they fall, 
 
 So we our j udgment form. 
 
 Note you my meaning ? 
 
act IF. Scene I 29 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Right well. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Sweet fruit to sour turned is cast away, 
 Esteemed alone while sweet. 
 Is it yet plain ? 
 
 Fernando. 
 
 Very plain. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Or say I have a statue, whose high art 
 
 All but perfection is. Myself an adept, 
 
 I love, nay, I adore it. It falls, 't is broken, 
 
 What follows then ? I cannot then 
 
 Upon the fragments look — which bear 
 
 No semblance to the form it was — as on the statue. 
 
 In brief, the unrelenting code of war demands 
 
 That he to judgment come. 
 
 Fetnando. 
 
 So please you 
 
 Queen. 
 
 No more. Give order straight our council be convened. 
 And he a prisoner before it brought 
 To instant trial. [Exit Fernando. 
 
 Great men by great occasions are brought forth. 
 Many who to their neighbors scarce were known 
 Have by their force of genius — the occasion favoring — 
 In one full bound fame's highest summit reached. 
 And filled the world with wonder. 
 
30 iLbc Dtsconsolate ^onarcb 
 
 'T is so no more, and man in semblance only 
 Is a man, of what he was. 
 
 I look about me — 
 Here 's a goodly company of glittering incapacity. 
 And even as they are, of such is our realm composed ; 
 By tailors made, they their tailors owe 
 For what they are. 
 
 Till brains be furnished easily as backs 
 I shall in them see no capacity. 
 Enter A''mg Weep, weep, my Lord, 
 
 and Bolerio.'] Now hast thou cause. 
 
 Till now, no cause to weep. 
 
 King. 
 Alas, she 's dead ! 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Dead let her be to grief and memory. 
 She lives. 
 
 King. 
 Then all is well. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 All is not well when grows our kingdom ill. 
 Rebellion's reign threatens our own. 
 'T is like the ungovernable and mighty flood. 
 Which, breaking forth its confines, overwhelms 
 All that before it comes. 
 
 King. 
 
 What, would they all be kings ? 
 
 Who now is satisfied ? Who with his lot content ? 
 
 By nature fitted each his part to play, 
 
act IT. Scene I 31 
 
 Proud man, usurping nature, seeks to fill 
 
 A r6le to him uusuited. 
 
 Some would be kings, the diadem to wear. 
 
 Who to a king as much relation bear 
 
 As I to happiness. 
 
 What slave but in his mind a prince could be, 
 
 Or add new lustre to the name of duke ? 
 
 Thus each and all, of high or low degree, 
 
 By false ambition prompted, onward strive, 
 
 Nor oft attain their object, nor receive 
 
 Whate'er of comfort to their lot belongs. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 (To Queen.) 
 
 'T is even so, your Majesty. 
 
 In life as on the stage. 
 
 If we assume a part to us unsuited, 
 
 We add to our discomfiture, and draw 
 
 The laugh of the world upon us. 
 
 Qiieen. 
 
 This you speak is nothing. 
 
 King. 
 All that is, is nothing. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 I '11 to the council, 
 
 Comfort meanwhile be with you. 
 
 [Exit Queen. 
 Enter ist Attendant.l 
 
 ist Atteyidant. 
 Soldiers just returned 
 Do bring no news. 
 
32 (Tbe Disconsolate Aonarcb 
 
 King, 
 Of what, Sirrah ? 
 
 1st Atteiidant, 
 The Princess, your Majesty. 
 
 King. 
 
 Despatch them hence again in further quest, 
 
 And bother me no more with news of nothing, 
 
 [Exit Attendant. 
 
 Oh, can it be that what we call our pleasures 
 
 Oft are sent to curse and plague us ? 
 
 Wherefore else did Heaven send her me, 
 
 If not to punish me ? 
 
 Let all depart, I fain would be alone. 
 
 Bolerio ? 
 
 [Exeunt Suite. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 Here, my liege. 
 
 King. 
 
 Whither would you ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Did you not bid me even now depart ? 
 
 King. 
 
 Bid thee depart ? 
 No ! Thy comfort and thy counsel, dear, my friend, 
 Have been as balm unto my wounded spirits, 
 Which, else, had doubtless died. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Long live you to receive and I to give. 
 
act IF. Scene I 33 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 Despair my bosom sits. 
 Think you, in truth, our daughter will return ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 Let not fair hope to foul despair give way. 
 
 For hope once lost, nothing is left us here, 
 
 Hope is a friend, long tried, and ever true, 
 
 A bright star fixed, hope guides us dangers through. 
 
 The shipwrecked mariner, of hope deprived. 
 
 Himself would drown ; clinging thereto, survives. 
 
 And sees afar his rescue slow approach. 
 
 King. 
 
 Hope is a staff whereon all fools do lean. 
 
 Even unto the grave, there breaking. 
 
 They both fall in, and both are buried there. 
 
 No, bid me not be of hope, — 
 
 Add woe to woe, for therein comfort is, 
 
 Comfort 's alone in woe. 
 
 Or if thou should, by Heaven and earth I swear, 
 
 I '11 tear my love from out my bosom here, 
 
 And be to thee thenceforth thy deadliest enemy. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 I '11 never bid you be of comfort more. 
 
 King. 
 
 Give me thy hand and pardon ; 
 Passion and grief combining make me blind, 
 Even to the love and duty due my friend, 
 For such thou art, and therefore heed it not, 
 A threat in passion vented 
 
84 Zbe Disconsolate ^onarcb 
 
 Is like hot iron into water plunged, 
 A sound, and then an ending. 
 
 Boierio. 
 Harsh words in friendly ears are heeded not. 
 
 Kiyig. 
 
 A friend may to a friend his anguish speak, 
 Though 't is expressed in anger, and still retain 
 Each unto other a friendship unimpaired. 
 Is it not so ? 
 
 Boierio. 
 It is. 
 
 King. 
 
 In speech alone can I some comfort find. 
 
 Words are the vents, out which much sorrow flows, 
 
 Relieving the o'erburdened heart. 
 
 Bear with me, I am tedious, that I know; 
 
 Old men are tedious, halting many words. 
 
 Reply not you, if silence you prefer, 
 
 Only be you near, 't is something I do know 
 
 That you are near. 
 
 Boierio. 
 Thy words, as no man's else, love I to hear. 
 
 King. 
 A duke saidst thou he is ? 
 
 Boierio. 
 
 'T is so said. 
 
Bet IT. Scene I 35 
 
 King. 
 
 The devil duke him. 
 
 May all the horrible torments of the damned 
 
 Be on him multiplied — 
 
 You know not whence he came ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 No, your Majesty. 
 Enter ist Attendant.'] 
 
 King. 
 
 (Seizing him.) 
 
 Hell's fury on thee, 
 
 Com'st thou again to vex my soul with nothing! 
 
 What wouldst thou, thou trembling 
 
 Mongrel thou ? 
 
 "Another troop has just come in and brings no news." 
 
 I '11 speak it for thee! 
 
 Hence, quit my sight, [Bxit Attendant. 
 
 And get thee to thy kennel back again 
 
 Gave you the order as I directed ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 I did, your Majesty. 
 King. 
 And went they southward too ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Southward and toward the Western forest. 
 
 Kiyig. 
 Let watchers in the tower vigil keep, 
 
36 (Tbe Dtaconeolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 That her perceiving, merrily may ring 
 The castle bell, foretelling her approach. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 'T is ordered done. 
 
 Kiyig, 
 
 Fain would I know her coming ere she do come. 
 But here my Queen comes, looking sternly sad. 
 What bring'st thou of good or ill report ? 
 
 Enter Queen, numerously attended.] 
 
 Queen. 
 Our worst of fears are in their worst confirmed. 
 
 King. 
 I of Carlotta speak. Speak you of her ? 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Of aught but her. 
 
 King. 
 
 What need you voice it with so loud a tongue, 
 I am not deaf. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 To the tower with her. 
 
 King. 
 
 Harsh means make harsh where gentle means prevail. 
 A forced obedience, through fear inspired. 
 Is not obedience, such as I desire 
 Should be my daughter's. 
 
Bet IF. Scene I 37 
 
 Queen. 
 
 To the tower with her still. 
 
 King. 
 
 Filial afiFection will not so far stray, 
 
 Ere it again the path of duty find, 
 
 If Kindness call and Love do lead the way. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Would she were back, and in the tower cast. 
 There to repent at leisure. 
 
 King. 
 
 Look, where like vultures my attendants stand 
 
 And feast their eyes upon me. 
 
 Even so, methinks, the ravenous bird 
 
 Gloats o'er his hapless prey, and awaits 
 
 Its final gasp, to pounce upon and rend it. 
 
 Company let us be unto ourselves. Leave us. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Go not, nor note him. 
 
 His grief and not his nature makes him thus, 
 
 Who, else, had been most kind. 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 
 O Misery of the world, which not endures 
 
 The sight of friendly eye ! [Enter Baseno. 
 
 Thy face thy tale discloses. What dost thou bring ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 A clew, your Majesty, which happily pursued 
 May lead to capture. 
 
38 Zbc Dlscongolatc /iRonarcb 
 
 King, 
 Speak! 
 
 Baseno. 
 An aged villager, ere crow of cock, 
 As was his custom, to the forest went 
 To gather fagots. Thus employed, 
 Two figures passed before him, 
 One in a long cloak arrayed. 
 Nothing they spoke but quickly walked away. 
 As they would not be seen. 
 
 King. 
 
 Saw not he their faces ? 
 
 The moon was up, was it not ? 
 
 Baseyio. 
 
 Affrighted, homeward hastened he his way, 
 Like one pursued. To vouch his story. 
 There his fagots lay, and may of all be seen. 
 
 King. 
 
 This is the brightest news that yet I 've heard. 
 
 All but Bolerio go. 
 
 Spur sides and onward like the furious blast 
 
 Blown by rude Boreas in his maddest hour, 
 
 Go, like demons go, or thieves pursued. [Exeunt. 
 
 Bolerio, my famished hopes centre in you 
 
 For succor and success. No hireling you. 
 
 Whose work 's his pay. Duty in you is love. 
 
 Oh, what you do is with your utmost done 
 
 To please and serve us. 
 
Bet IT. Scene X 30 
 
 Bolerio. 
 What would I not to serve you ! 
 
 King. 
 In this important business, 
 There 's not a man of them whom I could trust, 
 With surety of success. Only to you I look, 
 As one whose face would bear opinion out, 
 And come in triumph home. 
 Start not, nor think I flatter, 
 For what I speak is born of my belief 
 As truly as I speak it. 
 
 Opportunity, which comes but seldom in the life of man, 
 Is yours: Is yours the power to grasp it. 
 Making it the means to thine own honor ? 
 It is the ladder whereupon the great 
 To greatness climb. How say you ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 What I can I will to serve you. 
 
 King. 
 My ring shall warrant you in all you do. 
 Take it, and pursue your journey westward, 
 Even to the forest, where 't is thought 
 Our daughter is concealed. 
 When you shall reach it, of my forces take 
 Supreme command. Dispose them to advantage. 
 The outskirts guard. Soldiers place within 
 At regular intervals. Traverse it, 
 Leave no place unsearched 
 Where mortal foot may rest, 
 
 Then when you come, you may come a man, indeed. 
 And high in honor home. 
 
40 ^be Dtecoiisolate ^onaccb 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 Method shall guide, and fortune favor me, 
 I hope, in this fair undertaking. 
 
 King. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 The Western forest, 't is a tract, indeed, 
 
 Of vast extent, close wooded, mountainous, 
 
 With thickets tangled, deep defiles, and pitfalls; 
 
 Huge oaks, storm-strewn and twisted. 
 
 Intercept the way, and look like giants fallen. 
 
 Birds and beasts of prey therein abound; 
 
 The distant dismal howl of ravenous wolf 
 
 By wolf is answered, and sounds the forest through, 
 
 Making life hideous. 
 
 The night-belated traveller pursues 
 With quickened pace his anxious, weary way. 
 Oft stops and listens, frightened by the sound 
 Of his own steps. Looks while he runs. 
 Like one who fears a ghost, nor deems him safe 
 Until, the limit of the forest passed. 
 He stops for breath. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 'T is a place by night to be avoided — (Bell riugs.) 
 
 The midnight bell the solemn stillness breaks, 
 Giving assurance of the hours gone. 
 Now all again is hushed. 
 Will you to bed, my Lord ? 
 
 King. 
 Will I dance or sing ? I marvel at thy words. 
 
act U. Scene I 41 
 
 Queen. 
 Dark deeds become the dark. 
 The robber now, and those on evil bent, 
 From their concealment steal, and take to the road, 
 To plunder and to prey. 
 
 Besotted creatures, whose tavern 's their delight, 
 The ditch their bed, are at this hour abroad. 
 And staggering homeward. 
 Songs and sounds discordant mark their way, 
 And brawls incessant. 
 
 Loud over all is heard the watch-dog's bark. 
 And now sweet slumbering Innocence awakes, 
 And fears impending danger, buries his head. 
 And loses himself anew. 
 All mortals wise their weary senses rest 
 In healthful slumber, and wake 
 To strength renewed. 
 Shall we this recreative agent still refuse. 
 And longer keep from rest ? 
 Come, my Lord, come! 
 
 King. 
 Whence is that dreadful cry ? 
 
 Qtcecn. 
 It is the screech owl 
 
 Nightly, this fortnight, hath he come and sat 
 Beneath our chamber window, 
 And startled me from sleep. 
 
 King. 
 I heard it not. 
 
 Queen. 
 Soundly you slept and stirred not. 
 
42 
 
 llbe Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 Kmg. 
 Oh, never shall I more such slumber have 
 As then was mine. Never shall have it more. 
 Henceforth I must with cankering sorrow lie 
 The long night thro', count as I lie 
 The slowly moving minutes, and pray for day. 
 Or should I doze, it would but be to dream 
 Of hideous things, to cry aloud, to leap from bed, 
 To clutch at fantasy — 
 Happy he who free from care reclines 
 The downy couch of sweet content, and draws 
 The influence benign of that dear God 
 Who does our slumbers keep. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Come, come! 
 
 [Exeunt hand in hand. 
 
act 1I1I, 
 
 43 
 
Act II. Scene i. 
 
 An apartment in the castle. Several Attendants in earnest 
 conversation. 
 
 ist Attendant. 
 
 Service call you it? Service, indeed, his Majesty's 
 
 service. 
 One may as well think of flying as pleasing him. 
 
 All. 
 We cannot please him. 
 
 ist Attendant. 
 Not Beelzebub himself can approach him in violence. 
 
 All. 
 I si Attendant. 
 
 True, true. 
 
 Oh, my poor back ! Look you, place your hand on 
 my shoulder, there, ay, there; tell me now what dost 
 thou feel there ? 
 
 2d Attendant. 
 
 Why, truly, thy shoulder. 
 
 45 
 
46 Zbe Didconaolate /n^onarcb 
 
 isf Attendant. 
 
 I know that, but tell me, dost thou feel a lump say 
 as large as a hen's egg or larger ? 
 
 2d Attendant. 
 
 Truly I do not. 
 
 ist Attendant. 
 
 'T is within, then, for I feel it. The devil is no 
 match for him as a maker of lumps. 
 Enter Clarissa i\ 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Well, now, what 's the matter now ? 
 
 ist Attendant. 
 
 Matter enough is it, as my poor back can testify to. 
 I would it had a tongue that it might speak for itself. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 A cuff from a King is better than gold from any man. 
 Is it not an honor ? 
 
 ist Atteyidayit. 
 
 Is it? 'T is cheap honor then; it goes a-kicking. 
 
 2d Attc?ida7it. 
 By your leave, lady, I '11 take gold. 
 
 Claj-issa. 
 
 I pity thy narrow judgment. Every man may have 
 gold, — that can get it, — but the disfavor of the King is 
 an honor vouchsafed only to the few. 
 
Bet iril. Scene I 47 
 
 ist Attendant. 
 They are welcome to it. 
 
 AIL 
 Ay, they are welcome to it, 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Is it for the King's ears you keep this clatter up ? 
 If so I pity you. 
 
 I si Attendant. 
 
 Thou shouldst pity my poor back that aches me 
 almost to madness. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Why did you come in his way ? 
 
 ist Attendant. 
 
 Faith, I came not in his way, and there 's the 
 trouble, for says he, " look at that rogue who seeks to 
 avoid me," then dealt he such blows on my back that, 
 
 Lord, I shall never get over them. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Our troubles are even as we ourselves do make 
 them; given not so much of one's mind, they do not 
 seem to be so heavy as they are. 
 
 1st Attendant. 
 
 1 do not well understand that. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I sa}'- give the matter not so much of j'our mind. 
 
48 Zbe disconsolate /Ronarcb 
 
 isi Atte7idant. 
 
 If I give it not my own mind, whose mind shall I 
 give it then ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 No man's, 
 
 ist Attenda7it. 
 
 No man's, in truth, nor woman's either, for they 
 have no minds but for themselves. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Mean you to say there is no sympathy in the world ? 
 
 jst Attendant. 
 
 Sympathy, I warrant you, more oft expressed than 
 felt; but sympathy heals not a bruised back; 't is not 
 so good as liniment, yet, 'tis something, 't is words, 
 and words are something. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Well, let it go at that. 
 
 ist Attendant. 
 
 I would my back would. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 'T is best you go within, lest your absence prove to 
 your disadvantage. 
 
 ist Attendant. 
 What, and be again beaten ! 
 
Hct HU. Scene I 49 
 
 All. 
 
 We will not; we will not. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 As you please, but as you will not to the King, look 
 where the King comes to you. 
 
 Attendants. 
 Save us, save us ! (Running off.) 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Ha, ha, ha ! I did never see such frightened rascals. 
 Name but King to them, and they are off like a pack 
 of hounds at full cry. 
 Enter Baseno.'\ 
 What, you here, Baseno ! 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 To please thee, sweetheart. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 To please thyself. Were you not with the soldiers 
 ordered out in search of the Princess ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 Thou art the only Princess worthy my search. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 If this be known, thou art like to be shot for it. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 Shot! 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Ay, or hanged. 
 
50 ^be Disconsolate ^onarcb 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 Mercy me, how thiuk'st thou I should look on the 
 gallows ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Why, even as they looked who were hanged before 
 thee. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 I think thou lov'st me not, 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Thou canst be sworn to that. 
 
 Baseno. 
 That thou lov'st me not ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Ay. 
 
 Baseno. 
 Have I not proven my love ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Thou hast followed me about the castle 
 Day in and day out, like mine own shadow. 
 If that be love thou art full of it. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 Have I not bent my knee to thee, 
 I know not how oft ? 
 
act HIT. Scene I 51 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Well, what of that? Any fool may do that, that 
 hath knees to bend. 
 
 Base7io. 
 But would any fool do it ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Yes, would he, and wise men too, 
 If I would let them. 
 
 Basetio. 
 
 Not if I should know it. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Why, what wouldst thou do ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 No matter, I am not all fool. 
 I know something. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Thou know' St how to break the King's command- 
 ment and come here in search of me, instead of the 
 Princess, for whose absence the King is grievous ill 
 and out of humor. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 The King is but the King, thou art an angel. 
 Once more I bend the knee, once more protest my 
 heart's true love for thee. 
 
63 ^be disconsolate ^onaccb 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 True love, ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 True love till you get us, and having us, 
 
 Of what quality would be your love then ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 What shall I say to prove my love to thee ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Say nothing, get thee gone ! 
 Thou ne'er shalt have my love. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 Heaven send thee a better lover. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Heaven send thee better sense, Baseno. 
 Come now, if thou lov'st me as thou saidst, 
 What wouldst thou do for me ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 What would I not do for thee. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Let me see. Thou wouldst not die for me ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 In good truth, I would not die for thee. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 And why not ? True lovers ever willing are to die 
 for those they love. 
 
Bet irn. Scene I 53 
 
 Baseno. 
 Why, being dead, thou couldst not have my love. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I will promise to love thee on one condition. 
 
 Baseno. 
 Quickly let me know it. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 It is that thou go, and immediately drown thyself. 
 Ha, ha, ha ! 'T is the only chance thou wilt ever have 
 to make a name for thyself. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 Woman's love may be measured by the gifts 
 
 One give her, the greater the gift, the greater her love. 
 
 Clarissa. (Striking him.) 
 
 That for thy slander — and that — and that — 
 Thou knave detestable. Is it thus you speak ? 
 Think' St thou the heaven-born love of woman 
 May as commodities be bought and sold 
 With paltry presents, and palm-itching pelf ? 
 With thee, and with thy love, I now am done. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 It were all one no matter what I speak, 
 
 For look you, if I make my honest conviction known, 
 
 Therefore am I censured, and if I speak not 
 
 My true mind, I am censured no less — 
 
 Truly, in my case. 
 
54 
 
 Zbc Disconsolate /Dbonarcb 
 
 Censure is a weapon that cuts each way, 
 Wounding both friend and foe. 
 
 C/artssa. 
 
 Heaven restore thee thy wits, for thou art 
 In sore need — thou art the one man deficient — 
 Learn wisdom with thy years, thy love bestow, 
 Where love may be requited. 
 
 Baseno. 
 I will do so — 
 
 I will make love even to a stone 
 Whose heart in feeling warmer is than thine, 
 Ere I again my heart's true love make known 
 To thee, who hast no liking to be loved. 
 
 (Each going off slowly in opposite directions.) 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Baseno, wilt thou kiss me ? 
 
 Baseno. (Running toward her.) 
 Ay, will I. 
 
 Clarissa. (Laughing and running oflF.) 
 Thou art the veriest fool. 
 
Act II. Scene 2. 
 
 A forest. The Duke emerges from the hollow of an old oak. 
 A lapse of three days between this and preceding scene. 
 
 Duke. 
 Thou good old friend, 
 Within thy centre, safe as under ground, 
 Have I concealment found. 
 Hark, what noise was that ! 
 
 I almost fear to breathe lest some accursed soldier, 
 Lurking near, should catch the sound, and draw me 
 
 into combat. 
 Oh, me, most miserable! 
 
 To have all but have had her, and to have lost her thus ! 
 No, no! 
 
 I '11 not bemoan, and call on Fortune to amend my fate, 
 As many another has, but take her cuffs for kindness. 
 There is no situation so severe but man may profit 
 By it, and become a man more wise and happy. 
 So I may out of this some comfort take, 
 Which now I see not. I hear voices. 
 
 (The Duke conceals himself in the hollow of the oak. Enter 
 Sergeant, Corporal, and Soldiers.) 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Said you, you saw him run this way ? 
 
 55 
 
66 Zbc Dtdconeolate Abonaccb 
 
 Corporal. 
 'T was this way, I 'm sure. 
 
 Sergeavt. 
 
 If you meet with him, do him not deadly harm, 
 But take him living. 
 
 Corporal. 
 What if he won't surrender ? 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 If he show fight or seek to run away, 
 Your sword must answer it. 
 Stand there, ho, who comes ? 
 Enter Baseno.'] 
 
 Baseno. 
 'T is I, Baseno. 
 
 Corporal. 
 What luck, Baseno ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 The game, I fear, hath fled. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 I fear so too. 
 'T is something but to know the Princess captured. 
 
 Corporal. 
 So would it be had we have taken her. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 You in her capture, as I hear, took part. 
 
act nil. Scene 2 5? 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 This puncture in my cloak more bravely speaks 
 My part therein than I with words. 
 Briefly thus it was. 
 
 Fruitless our three days' search, 
 Broke we our party up, and each pursued 
 Singly his way, according to his bent. 
 I, then alone, did with Bolerio meet 
 And soldiers two. No soldier he, 
 But only a man and good, and as it chanced, 
 Straight on the Duke he comes, 
 Who with the Princess in the forest walked 
 As villagers disguised. 
 
 Thus attired. 
 He, unsuspected, had unnoticed been. 
 But that with undue haste his sword he draws 
 And drives at Matteo, wounds him. 
 And o'erbears assistance newly come. 
 No demon in his fury e'er so fought 
 'Gainst odds so heavy. 
 
 At length by nightfall aided, turns and runs, 
 Gains on his hot pursuit, and disappears. 
 Then bears Bolerio the Princess off 
 To receive the credit which to us belongs. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 Dumb luck doth win where great skill 
 Often fails. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 'T is now so dark it will avail us nothing 
 To remain longer. Return we to the castle. 
 And when the day break, continue further search. 
 
Act II. Scene 3. 
 
 An apartment in the castle. Enter Kittg and Queen 
 numerously attended. 
 
 King. 
 Console me not. I will not be consoled. 
 What is the hour ? 
 
 Queen. 
 The bell hath struck, my Lord. 
 
 King. 
 
 Qtieen. 
 
 Is it so early ? 
 
 So late, my L,ord. 
 
 King. 
 How grievous heavy hangs the passing time 
 On him who would the time would quickly pass! 
 'T is like a heavy winter garment worn 
 Under the fierce rays of an August sun. 
 Well, get you all to rest. Here Sorrow and I will sit, 
 Sad watchers until morn. 
 Stay, stir not ! I do revoke the order. 
 All return. 
 
 Ye who have oft partaken of my joys, 
 Shall share my sorrows too. 
 
 58 
 
act HH. Scene 3 59 
 
 Doniejiico. 
 
 Gracious, my Liege, as shares a loyal subject 
 
 In the joys his Sovereign feels, so in his griefs 
 
 Is he partaker too. 
 
 The radiant Sun, shining, sheds its rays 
 
 On all alike, and on all alike, being o'er-clouded, 
 
 Do its shadows fall; so we both King and subject — 
 
 A body corporate and inseparable — must needs feel 
 
 What each the other suffers. 
 
 Heaven send you peace, and happy days, 
 
 Still ending them in peace. 
 
 King. 
 
 Who speaks this ? 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 Domenico, so please you. 
 
 King. 
 
 Sirrah, hold your peace. 
 You have no daughter loved, no daughter lost. 
 Let him whose grief doth equal grief of mine 
 Condolement offer. I will list to him. 
 And, if I not accept it, yet will thank him. 
 Your sympathy is puerile, sickly, void of sense. 
 It is unkind of you to proffer it. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Oh, careful should she be — should woman be — 
 Whose every trivial and most innocent act 
 Is by the tongue of scandal taken up 
 And scattered to the winds, 
 As it were something heinous! 
 
60 XLbe Dlsconaolate rtbonarcb 
 
 My mind is on her fixed, not on the deed. 
 
 QMee?i. 
 So we honor keep, let all else go. 
 
 A sin atoned is as no sin committed. 
 Q2fee?i. 
 
 Oh, that that were so! 
 Who can the ladder of reputation climb 
 That once hath fallen it ? 
 What after act of virtue can efface 
 Remembrance of a guilty action done ? None. 
 Repented, pardoned, forgiven, not forgotten, 
 It lives, and, ghost-like, haunts our every view, 
 Avoid it how we may. 
 
 Let the world talk, 
 
 A proneness natural unto the world, 
 
 And draw its slanderous and wagging tongue 
 
 On whom it will, me it affects not. 
 
 Were we to study but to please the world. 
 
 We should but live as fools, and die 
 
 Missing the mark we aimed at. 
 
 But this is from the current of my thoughts; 
 An angel whispers me my end is near, 
 The happy end, when shall my soul 
 Its flight to heaven wing, 
 And live in peace eternal. 
 
Bet 111F. Scene 3 61 
 
 Queen. 
 
 We can more easily a mountain lift 
 
 With corporal strength unaided, 
 
 Than turn our fate; 
 
 And you but injure nature thus to be 
 
 A servitor to sorrow. Let youth and folly mourn, 
 
 Age by experience is better taught, and takes 
 
 The frowns of fortune kindly. 
 
 Call up philosophy, that balm serene 
 
 To care-perturbed minds. 
 
 Thou act' St as thou had'st lost thy kingdom. 
 
 King. 
 
 In all things am I naught but natural — 
 Go, go my kingdom, vanish thou in air, 
 And be a thing that was, what care / for 
 A kingdom think you now ? 
 
 Why should I wear a crown 
 And rule a State, that am not able more 
 To rule myself? Oh, what 's a kingdom 
 To man's peace of mind ! 
 
 Domenico. 
 Take pity on thy years. 
 
 King. 
 The grief that weeps not 
 Breaks the heart that bears it. 
 Let me give vent to grief, lest my sad heart, 
 Too full to hold my grief, break too. 
 
 Queen. 
 Many for greater cause would not grieve thus, 
 Would smile and lighten sorrow. 
 
68 ^bc Dtsconsolate /Ibonarcb 
 
 King. 
 
 Hold, bold for mercy! 
 
 Know 3'ou what you speak ? 
 
 There is no medium to a woman's tongue, 
 
 It does from one extreme to the other go. 
 
 Converts to joy or anger. 
 
 Qicee7i. 
 
 My words and motives both are misconstrued 
 To suit your purpose. 
 
 Ki?ig. 
 
 Your words the whetstone to my anger are, 
 
 And sharpen it past bearing. 
 
 Hear you, just Heaven, 
 
 "Would smile and lighten sorrow." 
 
 Who can, such grief concealing, sweetly smile, 
 
 Must be at heart a villain base, 
 
 Too heinous black for hell. 
 
 Queen. 
 Peace, Peace! 
 
 King. 
 
 To heaven peace, where peace alone doth dwell. 
 Here is no peace, no known tranquillity. 
 Would you have peace, you must above abide, 
 And be a cherub 'mongst the cherubim. 
 I will outroar the tempest, yea, so roar. 
 That all the world, aflfrighted, shall it hear, 
 And deem indeed the day of judgment come. 
 
 Vain boast, alas, 
 I can no more than other wretches can, 
 Nay, not so much, and yet a King — 
 
Bet HH. Scene 3 63 
 
 A King, thou petty thing, caged in life's cage, 
 
 The world, thy burdens o'er, whatever thy ambition. 
 
 Canst thou more than cold distinction have, 
 
 The pomp and pageantry of kingly burial. 
 
 Then, like thy subjects, mingle with the dust, 
 
 Whereof is mortal made ? 
 
 Queen. 
 
 I '11 retire, nor longer be thy auditor. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 
 Doomed let him be ; to feel what I have felt, 
 'T is punishment enough; if he survive, 
 I ne'er shall hope for mercy — 
 Ha, what is this ? — my brain grows dizzy. 
 And mine eyes— God's gift — do lose their 
 Sense of action. Give me a chair. 
 
 Domenico. 
 Help, help, ho, help! 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Enters hastily.] 
 Help, help, help! 
 
 Drink, drink! 
 
 King. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 How feel you now, my Lord ? 
 King. 
 
 Why, even as before; 't is nothing. 
 
 Queen. 
 You lack, of all things, strength-restoring sleep. 
 
64 tlbe Disconsolate ^onarcb 
 
 King. 
 
 Sleep, who speaks of sleep ? 
 
 That precious boon, of sweet contentment born — 
 
 By labor bred — the beggar's helpmate 
 
 And the poor man's friend — 
 
 All, all shall sleep, save I. 
 
 Enter Pedro. "l 
 
 Quee7i. 
 Thy news, haste thee to tell it. 
 
 Pedro. 
 Reports new come. 
 
 Change not the visage and the front of war 
 From what they were, but rather make 
 Them worse. 
 Tampera now has with 
 The rebels joined. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Great wounds grow less when greater wounds do come. 
 Convene at once my council. [Exit Pedro. 
 
 I '11 thither straight. Were I a man, 
 I would myself against these rebels lead, 
 Die, or be rid of them. 
 
 [Exit Queen. 
 King. 
 
 Tell me, and truly, think'st thou, indeed, 
 I shall again our beauteous daughter see. 
 Caress with finger light her tresses fair. 
 Court her sweet smile, listen her voice divine. 
 Enfold once more her precious form to mine, 
 And press her lips, sealing my heart's devotion 
 With a kiss ? 
 
act -ffll. Scene 3 65 
 
 Domenico. 
 Do not doubt it. 
 
 King. 
 
 Give me some wine, 
 
 And let sweet music o'er my senses steal, 
 
 That it may mock me, and 
 
 My greatest of grief, to me, the greater feel. 
 
 (The bell rings ; King throws goblet away.) 
 Do I really hear ? or am I falsely played 
 By these mine ears, which never yet deceived me|? 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 Doubt not your hearing still, which thus transmits 
 The happy, longed-for token. 
 
 King. 
 
 Oh, news too good to be at once believed ! 
 Run some of you and verify the belief 
 That she be truly come. 
 
 Domenico. 
 
 lyook where in haste Rinaldo comes 
 To make it known. 
 Enter Rinaldo. "l 
 
 Rinaldo. 
 
 She comes; the Princess is returned; 
 The lover did escape them. 
 
 King. 
 
 Oh, then I fear our fever is not cured. 
 
 But will again break out. 
 
 Hereafter to annoy us. 
 
 Who of them all did our dear daughter bring ? 
 
60 Zbc Dlgconeolate /Dbonaicb 
 
 Rinaldo. 
 
 Bolerio, so please you. 
 
 King. 
 
 Well paid shall be his efforts. She comes. 
 
 Enter Carlotta, Bolerio, and others. She and the King ad- 
 vance hastily toward each other and embrace.] 
 
 God's blessing and my benison be thine 
 A thousand -fold. Where hast thou from 
 Thy poor old father been ? 
 
 Enter Queen. She advances hastily to Carlotta.'\ 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Thou giddy, mad - brained, and uudaughter-like 
 daughter. 
 
 Who let'st thy folly carry thy sense away to deeds un- 
 heard of, 
 
 Unheard of in a Princess, what wouldst thou do ? 
 
 What wouldst do I say ? Dost scorn my words ? 
 
 Thou turn'st thy face away. 
 
 Carlotia. 
 Shall a Princess ne'er marry ? 
 Quee7i. 
 Marry, marry ! You talk to marry, 
 Who know not yet the meaning of the word ! 
 Hark you. Miss Disobedience, 
 To marr}' is to be, as custom makes it, a slave 
 To him you marry. Oh, most rare innocence. 
 Each man 's a saint, the world a mammoth pleasure. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Aside. ) 
 
 I am right glad my daughters are all sons. 
 
act nil. Scene 3 67 
 
 Carlotta. 
 What is my Love that j'ou should like him not ? 
 What hath he said ? What done ? 
 What know you of his person, his estate, 
 His all, that suits not him to be my husband ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 
 Marriage alone can cure love such as this. 
 
 Kmg. 
 Many and many a night 
 Have I with sleepless eyes my pillow lain, 
 Thinking of thee, and what were good for thee. 
 For I have ever loved thee, and did fear 
 Some illness or some accident might befall thee, 
 Such as to youth oft comes. 
 
 Have ever prayed that thou might' st grow in honor, 
 As in years, to emulous womanhood. 
 Thy youth did promise it, but this thy waywardness 
 Doth task it so, that I am lost in knowing what to think. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Oh, that nature had but seasoned youth 
 
 With some few grains of sense. 
 
 Which lacking, makes him now 
 
 The scorn of age. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 (Aside.) 
 
 As the sapling to the tree. 
 
 So shows the boy the man. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 Love is no sin, or I do much mistake, 
 Or if it be, then I do sin 'gainst 3'ou in loving you. 
 
68 Ubc Dieconsolate /Ibonarcb 
 
 Or better still, in loving Him who made me, 
 Who bade all love all. 
 
 Good words are good, but better good deeds done. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 (Aside.) 
 
 O lyove, O Lunacy! 
 
 Kmg. 
 
 Love born of wealth lives short and dies unhappy. 
 But true love is a rock which ever stands 
 The winds and billows of adversity. 
 Where love is not, no happiness can be. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 My life upon his honesty. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Blush, blush for shame of thy doings, 
 
 For so thou wouldst if thou didst have shame 
 
 In thee. Canst thou but in men's faces beauty see ? 
 
 Hath home no ties to bind thee ? Where am I ? 
 
 A doll methinks would better suit thy years 
 
 Than thoughts of love. Think on what thou art. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 Mean you to say that I should never wed ? 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Mean you to ask if you should wed to misery ? 
 W^hat of Fredrico ? What, I ask, of him ? 
 A suitor royal, yet he suits not thee. 
 
Bet in. Scene 3 
 
 King. 
 
 Be not in marriage hasty, 
 
 Let thy first impressions wear with time. 
 
 Love will not lessen, though love's ardor cool. 
 
 Study thou the disposition well of him thou lov'st, 
 
 That no discordant element exist 
 
 To mar thy future being. 
 
 First love is oft like pictures, which at first 
 
 Do take the eye with rapture. Examined, 
 
 There we see defects so many 
 
 We gladly would destroy them. 
 
 As woman's choice is, so will woman be, 
 
 Happy or miserable her marriage existence through. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 He hath given me assurance of his true love. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Did he protest his love ? I vow he did, 
 
 And call upon the stars to witness it. 
 
 Which, being addressed, turned pale 
 
 And hid their heads, pulling the canopy of heaven 
 
 O'er them, affrighted at so base hypocrisy. 
 
 Oh, you do well. Miss Simple, thus to take 
 
 The false for the true ! 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 
 That which is best, most precious, lies within, 
 
 Hidden, and hard to come at, 
 
 The dross upon the surface. If diamonds 
 
 Were as pebbles, had for stooping. 
 
 They were as little worth. 
 
 True love seeks not with vows 
 
 To prove its love. It is a glow, Heaven enkindled. 
 
70 Cbe Disconsolate /Hbonarcb 
 
 And shines from heart to heart 
 
 With rapturous certainty. 
 
 In love's own language speaks, 
 
 Nor utterance needs to make its presence 
 
 Known. False love doth show, 
 
 As thieves their honesty, cowards their valor prove. 
 
 Carlotta, 
 
 Coupled with vows of love so heavenly sweet 
 Which to have heard were never more to doubt 
 His good intentions — this ring he gave me. 
 
 Queen, 
 (Snatching and throwing ring to the floor.) 
 
 Lie there, thou token of a maiden's folly! 
 
 O Heaven, is it possible 
 
 A maiden from her senses can so stray 
 
 As in the heat and passion of her love 
 
 To forget all else ! 
 
 'T is a mystery past my accounting for. 
 
 We waste in idle words the precious hours, 
 
 Give counsel where good counsel is declined. 
 
 Let it end here,— Carlotta, your sin is great. 
 
 And every one doth know, great sin doth call 
 
 For punishment as great as is the sin. 
 
 King. 
 
 No, no! 
 
 Queen. 
 (To/^ing.) 
 
 Know you not that maladies are met 
 With remedies to cure them 
 Ere they grow chronic ? Recall your reason. 
 
act 111F. Scene 3 71 
 
 (To Carlotta.) 
 
 Had you some spirit of repentance shown, 
 
 Not sought with words most vile to bolster up 
 
 Your viler deed, our hearts had 
 
 Softened toward you. 
 
 King. 
 
 Speak for yourself alone. 
 
 Quee7i. 
 
 Had open armed received you, and forgiven 
 The bitter past. Briefly we decree 
 That you within the tower be imprisoned 
 For two long months. 
 
 King. 
 
 For two long months ! 
 
 Queen. 
 I have said. 
 
 Oh, punishment too brief for so great sin ! 
 Yet, I have said. Thy maid thy company 
 And keeper be, and she alone. 
 Would you were like her, and did hold 
 Our confidence as highly. Daily thou may'st walk 
 Within the garden, for air and exercise, 
 No person present save thou and she, 
 As I shall order give. More I have not to say. 
 
 King. 
 
 I can but say good-night, and kiss thee, sweet, 
 Ere thou depart. Be in the tower happy, 
 And when thou think'st, sometime think of me. 
 I shall not sleep, but I will dream of thee. 
 
73 ^be Dtsconsolate /Ibonarcb 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 (Going oflf with Clarissa.) 
 If fate so fix it that I ne'er shall wed 
 With him I love, I then were better dead. 
 
 King. 
 
 To you, Bolerio, 
 That praise is due, which at more time 
 We will accord you, in other than with 
 Empty, windy words. We '11 prove substantially 
 Our love of you. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 I am repaid, my liege, in serving you. 
 
 Quee7i. 
 Of rest we are in need ; let us to rest. 
 
 King. 
 Oh, yet my mind is with much grief distressed ! 
 
 Queen. 
 To rest, in Heaven's name! 
 
Hct rniir. 
 
 73 
 

Act III. Scene i. 
 
 An apartment in the tower disclosing battlements and a Sen- 
 tinel on duty. Carlotta discovered lying on a couch, 
 Clarissa bending over her. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Sleep on, fair Princess, sweet Carlotta, sleep, 
 And be thy dreams as happy as thy thoughts, 
 When thou dost think on love. 
 
 Carlotta. (Starting up.) 
 
 Save me ! This is not my chamber. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 What evil starts your Highness ? Fear not you. 
 'T is I, Clarissa. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Oh, I have had the brightest, happiest dream 
 That ever came to maid. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 I pray you tell it. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 Within a garden walked my Love and I; 
 Marble were its walls, of man}'^ colors blended, 
 
 75 
 
76 ^be disconsolate flbonarcb 
 
 Sculptured, and o'erhung with vines 
 
 Whose silver}' leaves outshone the sun, and bore. 
 
 Deep-laden, fruits of gold, 
 
 Of divers shapes and sizes; 
 
 Flowers, unknown to nature, profusely lay 
 
 In bed and border. 
 
 The plash of perfumed waters filled the air ; 
 
 Each turn anew some newer beauty brought 
 
 Outvieing far the past: of birds exquisite, 
 
 Whose throats did tune to our approach, 
 
 And warble heavenly music; 
 
 Of statuary, chiselled so to life. 
 
 That I did think it moved ; of rustic bridges, 
 
 Curiously wrought, o'erleaping placid waters, 
 
 Adown whose depths did sportive nymphs appear, 
 
 And come at intervals in joyous throngs 
 
 Unto the surface, to look and smile on us. 
 
 Pursuing still this Eden infinite. 
 Came we at last unto a bower, where. 
 With flowers intertwined, our names appeared, 
 And therein entering, saw a burnished throne, 
 With diamonds and with jewels rare inlaid. 
 Its arms ingeniously like Cupids wrought 
 With arrows drawn and pointed at the sitters. 
 
 Then came at once the birds of the air, 
 The nymphs did leave their element and come. 
 Each animate form which there inhabited 
 Did flock to the bower, 
 And there as one commingle. 
 Oh, then did swell so celestial harmony, 
 Methought heaven itself had opened 
 And sent down its choicest choristers 
 For our entrancement. 
 
act 11llir. Scene I 77 
 
 Then I awoke and found it but a dream, 
 A dream, and I a prisoner confined 
 Within these dreary walls. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Who sins himself must bear the penalty 
 Which doth of sinning come. 
 
 Carlotia. 
 
 Call you it sin to love ? 
 Oh, if it be, then sin I welcome. Yea, will nourish 
 
 thee. 
 Deeming it honor evermore to sin. 
 Let not your courage with your conscience question 
 Against the truth, but truly answer me. 
 Is it not better I my heart bestow 
 Where love to love responds, than, for this Lord, 
 For filial reason show a love I feel not ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Say he did truly love thee. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Then would I pity, though I loved him not. 
 Fire, not water, burns, nor more could he 
 My heart with love enkindle. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Pressed the King his suit ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Why, no, but with such sanction as his presence gave, 
 
 And words of kindly mention. 
 
 Words not alone the mind's desire show. 
 
78 Zbc Disconsolate /iRonarcb 
 
 He knew I loved him not; why speak him then 
 
 On all occasions good, 
 
 And break abruptly other matter off 
 
 To name his praises? This to me, 
 
 Or in my presence ever, that I might hear it. 
 
 Could words directly spoken plainer tell 
 
 His mind's desire ? I do not think so. 
 
 Oh, me most wretched, 
 
 How greater than all miseries it is 
 
 To be of love deprived! Did Clarissa ne'er love ? 
 
 C/arissa. 
 Whom, dear? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 A lover sure. Oh, wherefore do you sigh ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 For sooth I pity thee. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Have I your pity, then you love me too; 
 For where no love is pity seldom comes. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Truly, I do. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 If you do truly love me let it show 
 In more than words. 
 Aid me, I prithee, hence. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 If so I could, 
 
 Fain would I aid thee as none else I would. 
 
act irilll. Scene I 79 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Can you not say, when gone, 
 That I am here ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 And here to find you not, oh, blessed me ! 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 As shows ingratitude in this harsh world, 
 
 So it in you appears. Gratitude, 
 
 There 's no such thing. A generous deed 
 
 Dies when 't is done. Naj-, 
 
 Scarce survives the doing. 
 
 Did I not constantly your bedside sit, 
 
 While you in fever lay, watch o'er you like an angel, 
 
 Doing and anxious still that I might do; 
 
 Soothe, with lotions cool, your heated brow, 
 
 And when you raved, as they in fever will, 
 
 Compose to slumber sweet ; 
 
 Bend oft in silent prayer my suppliant knee 
 
 For your deliverance ? All this a Princess did, 
 
 And I am she. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 All this you did, 
 And this I 'm grateful for. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 The fever past, you convalescent, did I relax attention ? 
 No, but still in various ways with kindness strove 
 To build your health again ; again to place 
 The bloom 3'our cheek upon, taking you oft 
 
80 ^bc Dteconsolatc flbonarcb 
 
 In mine own carriage riding, and when you walked, 
 Attending on you still, and still supporting you. 
 Such is my tender love, and such is yours. 
 That will deny so little comfort now 
 When I do need it most. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 What would you I should do ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Aid me from hence disguised. 
 
 What, turn'st thou away ? Oh, ungrateful thou. 
 
 Is this thy love of which thou spak'st but now ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Tax me not unkindly; 
 
 I must perforce deny that which I would, 
 
 Yet dare not. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Tax you unkindly, ay, I know I do; 
 
 Let me but kiss you for it ; there, no more ; 
 
 We '11 still be friends take fate what turn it may. 
 
 What, in tears ? I would thy parents could but 
 
 See thee now. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 My parents ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Ay. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Alas, what need you name them ! 
 
 I saw them not to know them, nor they me long. 
 
act 1I1I1F. Scene I 81 
 
 For I an infant at the castle gates 
 Was placed and found. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Oft I have heard it, and have wondered oft 
 
 Whom might your parents be, 
 
 What circumstance of fortune, or strange freak, 
 
 Should cause them part you thus. 
 
 Believe me, I believe you gentle born. 
 
 Clarissa, 
 
 It is a theme delights me most to dwell on. 
 
 I have myself long thought so, have often dreamed it; 
 
 Nothing I could wish but that it prove so. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 As stars and moon the night, the sun the day, 
 So, face, form, action, utterance, all, 
 Denote you what I say. 
 Tell me, Clarissa, could you wish to be 
 A maid forlorn as I, confined as I, 
 One who knows no sense of liberty, 
 Deprived as I the presence of your I^ove, 
 And all for title ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Oh, yes, anything for title. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 The measured pace of royalty, to me, is irksome. 
 I would, forsooth, I had been humble born, 
 As free as air, to laugh and merry be. 
 To take unbonneted the noonday sun, 
 
 6 
 
83 ^be H)t9Consolate /Dbonarcb 
 
 The wild flowers to pluck, with ungloved hand, 
 
 And into garlands weave the gathered treasure 
 
 For him I love; 
 
 To chase, with laughter loud, the fluttering butterfly 
 
 The bright green fields across; 
 
 To watch the humming-bird, if it alight, 
 
 Whose hues the heaven-arched rainbow rival. 
 
 To go the sheep among, 
 
 And with that type of innocence to play, 
 
 The gentle lamb; 
 
 And when the merry harvest time be come, 
 
 To spread the new-mown hay, and bind in sheaves 
 
 The golden low-laid grain ; 
 
 To catch the silvery rays of Cynthia fair, 
 
 As in some grove sequestered, 
 
 Hand in hand fair lovers walking go. 
 
 This I am denied 
 
 And all for that I am a Princess born. 
 
 The humblest maid who roves the fields among 
 
 Is Princess more than I. 
 
 The toil-tired laborer, whose scanty pay 
 
 Doth him and his a bare subsistence give. 
 
 Finds in his pay and labor more pleasure far 
 
 Than wealth and leisure bring. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 To bear your title, I would bear your ills, 
 And deem them pleasures. 
 
 Carloita. 
 
 Why, so you may. 
 And I will be no less than you are now. 
 
V 
 
 act miir. scene I 83 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I am all eagerness to learn the way. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Why, see you not how easily 't is done ? 
 We but exchange our dress, the title follows 
 And I repentant, you, as me, go free. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Your fertile brain alone could germinate 
 
 So shrivelled seed; we '11 nourish, water. 
 
 And dig it round, so it may live and flourish. 
 
 I a Princess! 
 
 I '11 give it no more thought, lest thinking more 
 
 Undo it; 't is done. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Your face for penance veiled will bear you out, 
 And seem, unseen, the brighter. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 'T is done, 't is done. 
 
 I '11 to the King at once; 
 
 An eager auditor to welcome tale, 
 
 What will not he, when he the news shall learn 
 
 Of thy repentance! 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Stay, thou dost forget 
 I must convey — by means to be provided — 
 To the Duke his manner of approach. 
 Know you a man whom you can trust ? 
 
84 Zbe Didconeolate ^onarcb 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 One. 
 
 Bid him for mercy to the forest go, 
 
 And when he shall unto that old oak come, 
 
 Which I did show you once. 
 There let him pause, and looking he will find 
 Two hearts deep graven in its mossy side; 
 From thence to happiness — a woodman's hut — 
 Is fifty paces off. Nestled it is within a thicket dense, 
 And hard to find — oh, I could find it dreaming — 
 There he will find my Love, and there unfold 
 How he may come to me. 
 This my jewel take, to vouch his story, 
 Not credited without it. 
 But how to introduce him to the tower ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 To-night at midnight will Baseno come. 
 To pace with easy steps these outer walls 
 Till daybreak, for 't is his duty. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 But what of him ? 
 
 Why, know you not, he leans in love toward me. 
 
 So strongly that though I do but turn from him in jest 
 
 He weeps his eyes out worse than any child. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 And he a soldier. 
 
act Hilir. Scene I 85 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 And a brave and true one. 
 Love is a weapon keener than the sword, 
 And with it I '11 assail him — 
 What love demands, love never did deny. 
 Nor will he me, being with me in love. 
 Said I in love ? 't is adoration great 
 As man on woman ever did bestow; 
 But it avails him not to bend his knee 
 And vow I am of beauty, beauty's queen, 
 Nor ever shall, till love my eyes transform 
 And place him there, an object beautiful. 
 Until in winter summer's heat shall be, 
 I shall for him ne'er feel love's ecstasy. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 (Aside.) 
 She talks of love who never felt its pangs. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Yet, though I love him not, his love I '11 use 
 And bend him to my purpose thoroughly. 
 If he refuse, for him I '11 simulate 
 A love I feel not. Thus draw him on 
 This business to do, which done, will prove, 
 If not for him, for us, an act of love. 
 Leave all to me. 
 
 • Carlotta. 
 
 To thee, as to none other, leave I all. 
 Haste, good Clarissa, nor this truth forget. 
 
86 Cbc Disconsolate /Ebonarcb 
 
 Time tarries long when sweethearts, lovers, wait. 
 
 [Exit Clarissa. 
 So wise, so weak, I can but pity her, 
 
 And yet for mine own ends, am pleased to pity her. 
 
 Thus is the world with glittering gewgaws caught; 
 
 Most craves it that which would itself most harm. 
 
 Oh, title, word unmeaning, as oft on fools 
 
 As on the wise bestowed. 
 
 Money sometimes it brings, but money not wisdom 
 
 buys. 
 
 And oft begets a world of misery, 
 
 More than the want of money. 
 
 Knough contentment brings, 
 
 Or rather keeps man from the door, 
 
 The harsh, cold door of charity, and takes not 
 
 His better virtues from him. 
 
 Enter four Ladies of the Court.'] 
 
 Lady. 
 
 Your Highness, we have come, 
 
 Sent by the King, your father, to beguile 
 
 Your sadness. 
 
 Carlo tt a. 
 
 Ladies, I give 5'ou welcome to this place, 
 A wretched place, — I would on your 
 Account that it were better. 
 
 Lady. 
 We would it were, your Highness, for your sake. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 I am content since she hath willed it so. 
 
act nmr. scene I 87 
 
 Lady. 
 
 Against her will, your Highness, as you know. 
 
 Carlo tt a. 
 
 What is your duty from the King to me ? 
 
 Lady. 
 
 To sing, your Highness. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Will it be a love song, something sweet ? 
 
 If not, I would you would not sing to me at all. 
 
 Lady. 
 
 Sad is the song we sing; 
 
 'T is like the robin's when her mate is stolen 
 
 By the rude hand of youth. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Sad song ne'er lessened sadness. 
 
 You from my mother, not my father, come, 
 
 If I mistake not. It is no matter; 
 
 I prithee, sing it, be it ne'er so sad. 
 
 Ladies. 
 
 (Singing.) 
 A maiden fair. 
 With flowing hair, 
 
 Awaiteth her lover to see; 
 The time is past, 
 He will come at last. 
 
 And she scanneth eagerly. 
 
88 ^be Discongolate /IBonarcb 
 
 Choriis. 
 
 Sing heigh, sing ho, 
 Of the maiden, oh, 
 
 The maiden who doth pine, 
 With a heart forlorn, 
 Of her lover shorn, 
 
 And the fear he may never be mine. 
 
 The winds do blow. 
 Fast falls the snow. 
 
 And the maid doth yet abide 
 In that casement high, 
 With each thought and each sigh 
 
 For him, and on what hath betide. 
 
 O maiden fair, 
 Of hope despair; 
 
 Thou waiteth in vain to see; 
 With another this night 
 His love he did plight, — 
 
 And such is man's constancy. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 'T is a sweet, sad song, well sung, and I thank you; 
 Commend me to my mother; say you saw me, 
 Sang to me, to me her daughter, her daughter 
 To her duty full restored, for such indeed I am. 
 I am no more the Princess, but her daughter. 
 Pardon these broken words, my grief is great, 
 And I can speak but as you hear me, 
 Disconnectedly. 
 
 Lady. 
 All will yet be well. 
 
act 1I1Iir. Scene I 89 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Heaven grant it may. My maid has gone before; 
 Avouch her story. Report me as you find me, 
 Wet with weeping, at thought of my great wrong. 
 
 Lady. 
 
 We will do so, and gladly. 
 
 [Exeunt Ladies. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Was woman by woman ever so deceived ? 
 Enter Clarissa.'\ 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Now come I back with news indeed. 
 
 Carlotta, 
 Speak; if 't is good news, then 't is news, indeed. 
 
 Clarissa, 
 If man was ever mad the King is mad. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Mad? 
 Clarissa. 
 
 With joy of your return. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 But sent you to my Love, and when will 
 He be here ? Bandy not words, but prithee. 
 Tell me. 
 
90 Cbc Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 I did the trusty messenger seek out 
 
 Of whom I spoke, to do this errand ; 
 
 You know him well, Rinaldo, a foolish fellow, 
 
 Who will for profit any service take 
 
 And reckon not the risk. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 But is Rinaldo trusty ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Trusty as foolish, and brave as both. 
 
 To honor your return the King will give. 
 
 To-morrow night, an entertainment. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 It is for you, not me, that this is done. 
 You are the Princess, I am her no more; 
 When I return 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 But list, I pray you, hither comes the guard, 
 And we must wisely from the chamber go, 
 Lest watching breed suspicion. 
 
 {Clarissa puts down the light, and with Carlotta retires to an 
 inner chamber, the castle bell rings, the Captain of the 
 Guard and Soldiers appear on the battlements, and exch ange 
 sentries, Baseno being left on duty ; Clarissa re-enters.) 
 
 The guard has gone, and all alone 
 
 Baseno keeps the passage to the tower. 
 
 He shall be soon disposed of; 
 
 Here is a powder whose potency 
 
 WilUput him slumbering who but tastes of it. 
 
 Baseno, Baseno, I say — 
 
Hct IFIFII. Scene I 91 
 
 Baseno. 
 Stand there, ho ! who calls ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Hush, 't is I, Clarissa. 
 
 Baseno. 
 Clarissa, as I live. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Make no noise. 
 
 Baseno. 
 I would I might come in to thee. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Thou may' St. 
 
 Baseno, 
 Well, this is luck. 
 Enters.] 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Softly and low; in yonder chamber sleeps 
 The Princess. 
 
 BaseJio. 
 
 Thou only art my princess. 
 
 Phew, how the wind howls! 
 
 I were well rid of this night's duty. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 A storm approaches. (Hands him drink.) 
 
 Here is that will please thee. 
 
93 Zbc Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 Bascno. 
 
 Thou art the sweetest of the angels. 
 Here 's to thee, sweetheart. 
 May I kiss thee for it ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 You may, upon the forehead. 
 
 Base?io, 
 Or lips or nothing. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Do it quickly, then; time goes, and so must thou. 
 
 Basejto. 
 
 (Kisses her.) 
 St. Michael, what a clap of thunder was that ! 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 'T will be a rough night. Here, drink of that 
 And be silent. 
 
 (Thunder and lightning.) 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 This is the best wine I 've yet tasted. 
 It takes hold at once. 
 
 (Singing.) 
 
 There 's nothing so good as good wine. 
 
 To cheer up the heart, 
 
 Bid all sorrow depart, 
 
 Give me a good glass of good wine. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Peace, fool, 
 
 Would you awake the Princess ? 
 
act imn. Scene I 93 
 
 Baseyio. 
 
 What fool, forsooth, did ever hold his peace ? 
 
 (Thunder.) 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Between thee and the thunder, here 's a pretty clatter. 
 Have you lost your wits ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 In wine, methinks, my wits are almost drowned. 
 
 (Sings.) 
 There 's nothing in life 
 Half so good as a wife 
 Along with a glass of good wine. 
 
 (Speaks.) 
 Who drinks not wine, life's pleasures 
 Ne'er enjoys. 
 
 {Carlotta from time to time looks out upon them. Baseno 
 follows Clarissa around a table to catch her.) 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Come, sit thee down like the good fellow 
 Thou art, and enjoy thyself. 
 
 Base7io. 
 
 I was now but a fool, and now am I a good fellow in 
 thy esteem. Truly, thou blow'st hot and cold in one 
 breath. Not so, neither, for your good fellow doth oft 
 realize he is but a good fool. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Let me entreat thee sit. 
 
94 (Tbc HXsconeolate /IRonaccb 
 
 Baseno. 
 I will catch and kiss thee 
 Whir St legs and lips last. 
 
 (Falls prostrate over a chair.) 
 
 Clarissa. 
 (Assisting him to rise and sit.) 
 Now art thou fallen, indeed. 
 
 Baseiio. 
 
 To fall is easy, but to rise again argues some ability 
 in him who succeeds in doing so. 
 
 (Singing.) 
 lyife is but a breathing spell 
 
 Herein to sweat and fret us; 
 To-day we 're here, but who can tell 
 Where may to-morrow fetch us ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Good Baseno, sweet Baseno, be silent 
 In Heaven's name, I beseech thee. 
 
 Base7io. 
 
 You think of Heaven only in distress. 
 More wine I say, or over goes your bar. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Bar, what bar ? Take you me for a barmaid ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 Barmaids have pretty been, and married well. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 So will not she who weds herself with thee, 
 Thou noisemonger thou; 
 Thou art composed all of wine. 
 
act I1 11 IF. Scene I 95 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 (Sings.) 
 
 We live but a day 
 
 So drink while we may, 
 
 Drink, drink, drink; 
 
 Or as the song goes, — know you how the song goes ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 No, what song ? You were best cease your cater- 
 wauling. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 Caterwauling. I will sing thee or any woman in 
 Italy for a flagon. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 (Aside.) 
 
 It is the wine and not the powder works; 
 I '11 make it stronger, so must it put him 
 Sleeping. 
 
 (Hands wine, and is held round the waist by Baseno.) 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 Come, charmer sweet, and sit thee on my knee, 
 And wine we '11 drink, and love tales 
 Sweetly tell. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 (Breaking away from him.) 
 Out, thou detestable of all ruffians, 
 I will not talk with thee ! 
 
 Baseno. 
 Or talk or not, wine shall my company be. 
 
 (Sings.) 
 
96 Zbc Disconeolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 A lass 
 
 And a glass 
 
 A night with to pass, 
 
 And get thee to bed in the morning. 
 
 I did never drink heavier wine. 
 
 Heigho, how stupid I feel ! I will crawl 
 
 Under this table and sleep if I 'm shot for it. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Come, lady, come! 
 Enter Carlotta.l 
 
 Our noisy sentinel to bed is gone. 
 Leaving his duty and ourselves alone. 
 L,ook where he lies oblivious of fear. 
 
 Carlo tta. 
 Sound be thy sleep, nor harm environ thee, — 
 It is upon the time he should approach. 
 Look from the casement; dost thou nothing see ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Nothing I see. 
 
 Carlo tta. 
 Nothing ? 
 
 Clarissa, 
 No star appears to shed its feeble rays 
 Upon the world beneath. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 What hear you ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 The cheery chirp of cricket, and the bark 
 Of distant dog, are all I hear. 
 
act imiF. Scene 1 97 
 
 Carlotta . 
 
 Please you, give way ; 
 Love's eyes are keen and can the darkness pierce. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 If he should fail you now. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Love knows no barrier. 
 Even now my heart unto his steps responsive throbs, 
 Foretelling his approach; 
 Lo, where the sun its radiance unfolds. 
 And makes of darkness day. 
 
 Enter Duke.'] 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Truly, 't is he. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 Oh, joy of joys again to be with thee! 
 
 Duke. 
 How dost thou, sweet ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Oh, now most happy ! 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Heaven preserve thee ever ! 
 
 Canst thou in place so wretched still be happy ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 I could be happy in a churchyard if thou wert company. 
 
 7 
 
98 »Ibe Disconsolate ^onarcb 
 
 Duke. 
 Thanks to thy maid, here am I with thee. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 You do me honor, my Lord. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Honor is well enough, yet not enough, 
 
 Save unto him who hath the means withal 
 
 To cope ill fortune with. 
 
 Oh, who can wear this feather in his cap 
 
 While sharp-toothed hunger at his stomach gnaws 
 
 And feel content ? 
 
 No, you shall have that which more in need will stand 
 
 you 
 Than all the empty honor heaped on man since Caesar; 
 Something more solid; that which may be grasped 
 When placed in the hand; 't is gold, 't is thine, 
 'T is thy deserving; give me no thanks. 
 And when I prosper in my fortune so 
 That I may call my Love my wife indeed 
 Then I '11 reward thee further. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 (Looking from casement.) 
 Happy augury, the storm doth clear, 
 And yon bright twinkling star 
 Makes toward the horizon. 
 So must we too, for safety, soon pursue 
 Our happy way. Come, good Clarissa, 
 We '11 to the next chamber for interchange of raiment, 
 Needs must I leave you, Love, a while alone. 
 
act IFUf. Scene I 99 
 
 Duke. 
 
 This, till thou return. (They kiss.) 
 
 {Carlotta and Clarissa go out and exchange apparel.) 
 
 She 's gone, and I within the tower am alone, 
 
 A prey to thought. Most wretched place herein to 
 
 cage a man, 
 Say naught of woman. Methinks already I do feel 
 A dampness to enter into me which, with my blood 
 
 commingling. 
 Courses ray system through, 
 
 And drives me from myself. (Takes glass of wine.) 
 
 Come, thou sweet spirit of wine, 
 Man's friend or enemy as he will have thee, 
 Come, let me taste thee; 
 
 Let me invoke thine aid to drive these vapors from me, 
 To cheer and to warm me, as thou hast often done, 
 As when on field of battle, breathless and faint. 
 Friend nor assistance near, all hope abandoned. 
 Thou then didst bear me with thy succor oflf, 
 Who else had died so. No, 
 
 Let man revile thee. Let him storm against thee 
 Who doth abuse thee, for he hath cause to hate thee. 
 Not hell itself I fear as thou mine enemy. 
 
 (Knocking.) 
 One knocks. What to do I know not. 
 Here is no concealment. Reply to it, — no. 
 That were certain capture, perchance death. 
 
 (Knocking.) 
 I can admit and from behind despatch him. 
 Who the wiser ? 
 
 Oh, such an act might well become a villain. 
 And make blush the veriest coward. 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
100 Zbc Dleconsolatc ^onarcb 
 
 Restrain me, Heaven, 
 
 Let me not stain my hand with deed so foul. 
 
 Murder, O merciful powers! 
 
 The thought itself strikes terror to my soul. 
 
 How then the deed when done! (Knocking.) 
 
 If this should rouse the guard, then, what then, — 
 
 Some deeds themselves excuse, and this is one; 
 
 'T is settled, die he must. (Knocking.) 
 
 Grim conscience like a demon stands before me 
 
 And bars my passage farther. (Knocking.) 
 
 Shall I endure this longer? Conscience, begone! 
 
 Now, ruffian, meet thy doom. 
 
 C/ar?'ssa. 
 Entering hastily dressed as Carloita.'\ 
 
 My Lord, my Lord, 
 This person, by the knocking, should be Rinaldo, 
 The messenger whom I did send to thee 
 In the forest. Listen ! Who knocks ? 
 Enter Carlotta dressed as Clarissa.'^ 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 'T is I, Pedro. 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Is this a time of night to come knocking 
 At a lady's chamber ? 
 
 Pedro. 
 I come from the King. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 His pleasure ? 
 Pedro. 
 That the Princess come before him, and presently. 
 
Bet imil. Scene I lOi 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I will tell her so. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 He would her Highness come with me. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Wait her in the lower chamber; 
 She will not keep thee long. 
 Enter Rinaldo hastily.] 
 
 Diike. 
 
 What is amiss that hastily you come, 
 And spent for breath ? 
 
 Rinaldo. 
 
 Hence, hence for safety. 
 The Captain of the Guard, filled with suspicion, 
 Chased me at the heels, and even now 's upon you. 
 
 [Exit Rinaldo. 
 Carlotla. 
 Oh, chance unlucky ! 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Thus are our plans frustrated, we divided, 
 
 One kiss, — the woodman's hut, canst find it in the dark? 
 
 Carlotla. 
 
 Thy love my light, look thou to see me there. 
 
 {Carlotta escapes by way of the battlements. Clarissa retires 
 into inner chamber. Enter hastily Captain of the Guard.) 
 
 Captain of the Gicard. 
 Yield thee, rufl&an ! 
 
103 Cbe Disconsolate /iBonarcb 
 
 Duke. 
 What fellow art thou ? 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 Fellow in thy teeth. A soldier I. Yield thee, I say! 
 
 Duke. 
 I know thee not. 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 
 I have no words for villain such as thou. 
 Yield thee, or die ! 
 
 (They fight. Baseno issues from beneath table.) 
 
 Against fate, not man, I fight. Help, help, Baseno, 
 Cut the demon down! Ring the alarm bell; 
 The furies catch him. I am o'erpowered. 
 Haste, Baseno, haste! 
 
 (The bell is rung. Baseno rushes between and receives the 
 
 thrust intended for the Duke, who escapes. Baseno 
 
 falls. Soldiers rush in.) 
 
 The Princess ! haste, haste ! 
 
 {Clarissa, disguised as the Princess and veiled, appears at the 
 door.) 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 I am here. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Captaiit of the Guard. 
 
 (To Baseno.) 
 
 Being unarmed, why did you come between ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 Oh, I die of pain ! 
 
Hct flIFir. Scene I 
 
 Captain of the Gttard. 
 Are you much hurt ? 
 
 103 
 
 Baseno. 
 More than much, my mortal wound. 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 
 Lift him with care, 
 
 And let a surgeon to his wound attend; 
 
 His folly, not his duty, ends his life. 
 
 
Bet W. 
 
 105 
 
Act IV. Scene i. 
 
 A corridor in the King''s castle. Enter Merano in chains. 
 A Priest, Captain of the Guard, and Soldiers. 
 
 Merano. 
 Be merciful. Here let me stand and rest. 
 
 Priest. 
 His chains bear heavy on him; give him leave. 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 
 Merano. 
 
 Be it so. 
 
 And must I die ? 
 
 ' T is so decreed. 
 
 Priest. 
 
 Be comforted. 
 
 Merano. 
 
 And in such manner ? 
 
 Priest. 
 107 
 
108 Zbe Dtsconsolatc flbonarcb 
 
 Merano. 
 
 To die were nothing, — but so to die! 
 
 To leave in infamy a name behind 
 
 Whose every thought and effort of my life 
 
 It were to build, and must it now 
 
 Upon so slight a cause come tumbling down, 
 
 That of the noble structure which I reared 
 
 Nothing doth now remain, — and all for what ? 
 
 For that I cannot alter the decree 
 
 Of fate. I am but human. Can man more 
 
 Than do the best he can ? Am I a coward ? 
 
 Who 's he dare but suggest it ? Place me before him 
 
 And I with sword will thrust the slander down 
 
 His lying throat. 
 
 Priest. 
 
 This must not be, these words 
 
 Merano. 
 
 "Must not be." Beside the block I 'd say it. 
 And back my words with deed. 
 
 Priest. 
 Peace. Peace be thine. 
 Look upward. Of things worldly 
 You now are done. Here, slander can harm 
 No more. Giv^e thought to Heaven — 
 To Him whose Son, our blessed Saviour, came, 
 And for our redemption suffered. 
 That we might live in glory evermore. 
 
 Merano. 
 
 Why, so I do, and have, and ever shall 
 While yet I live. 
 
act HD. Scene I 109 
 
 Priest. 
 A dual worship, 
 Of heaven aud the world, 
 Is good as none. 
 
 Merano. 
 
 Oh, who that lives but feels 
 So great a wrong ! 
 
 Priest. 
 
 The greater wrong, the greater peace be thine 
 In heaven. 
 
 Merano. 
 Such is the world, 
 And such the reward oft comes 
 Of honest eflFort, while he, less able, 
 But by fortune favored, reaches his goal, 
 And is of all acclaimed. 
 
 Priest. 
 
 Life's trials and its crosses 
 Are but as steps that lead the way to heaven ; 
 And blessed he who doth make use of them, 
 To his eternal peace. 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 Are you yet done ? 
 
 Priest. 
 As you hope for mercy, 
 Give us leave. 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 
 To it then, and have ov^er; 
 I know mv dutv. 
 
110 Q:bc Disconsolate flbonarcb 
 
 Priest. 
 Would all men did. 
 
 Merano. 
 
 Alas! poor world. When Fortune smiled, 
 This churlish fellow, spaniel-like, did fawn; 
 But being down, and out of Fortune's favor, 
 Deigns not to know me more. 
 
 Hark you, sirrah, 
 In whom no feeling of compassion is, 
 Know this of me. Were I in hell, and thou 
 In heaven blessed, I still would be thy better. 
 
 Priest. 
 
 Forbear, forbear ! Such thoughts 
 Are not for thee. Let me adjure thee. 
 Leave thinking of the world, and think on Him 
 To whom thou goest. Wouldst thou impenitent 
 Thy Maker meet, thy sins upon thy soul ? 
 Thy time is brief. Even now thou stand' st 
 Upon the verge, the awful brink of all eternity. 
 Think, oh, think on that! 
 
 Merano. 
 
 And when must go ? 
 
 Priest. 
 
 Within these six hours 
 Art thou doomed to die. 
 
 Merano. 
 Heaven rest my soul ! 
 
 (Kissing crucifix.) 
 
Bet irit). Scene 1 ill 
 
 Priest. 
 Amen, with all my soul. 
 
 Merano. 
 
 New light breaks in upon me — 
 
 The light of Heaven — and fills me with His love ; 
 
 Lifts me above the world, 
 
 Which now I view but as a place despised. 
 
 Oh, that man might feel 
 
 The hope and comfort of a faith reposed 
 
 Implicitly in God ! What were life 
 
 If with our struggle here our life were done, 
 
 But rancor, envy, never-ceasing strife, 
 
 Hope unfulfilled, despair, and death ! 
 
 Priest. 
 Speaks thy conscience this ? 
 
 Merano. 
 
 As Heaven witnesseth. 
 
 Priest. 
 Peace be thine. 
 And thine a lasting glory. 
 Within the castle's sanctuary 
 We '11 further grace thee with our holy oflSce, 
 And prepare thee for His presence. Come. 
 
 Merano. 
 
 And none too soon. Father, I thank thee; 
 Push on. Yonder 's the way. 
 The way to heaven. 
 
Act IV. Scene 2. 
 
 A wood bordering an open country. Enter the Duke 
 and Carlotta, hand in hand. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Night's reign is o'er; the sun the sceptre sways, and 
 
 comes, 
 New-risen, ruddy-faced, and bright, to deck the form 
 
 of Nature. 
 How cahu doth all appear! 
 The air with gentle zephyrs scarce is moved ; 
 The feathered songsters early are astir, 
 And wake the woods with gladness. 
 
 Distant is heard the lowing of the herd 
 To early pasture driven ; 
 The shepherd's call catches upon the ear. 
 And now the plough-boy, whistling his way along, 
 To healthful labor goes. 
 
 Does not this brook more tuneful music make 
 Than that in palace played ? 
 
 O sweet serenity of nature, who would miss thee ? 
 Who exchange thy quiet for the scenes 
 In pompous city acted ? 
 
 Carloita. 
 
 Such a life to me were ecstasy. 
 
 112 
 

 -^ f: ^ « 
 
 '%,>-«;/- 
 
 ^--K 
 
 ^■::^:a 1 
 
 
act IID. Scene 2 113 
 
 Duke. 
 
 The dew yet glistens on yon flower}^ bank, 
 Else would I ask thee sit ; but stay, my love, 
 My cloak o'erspread, from dampness shall protect. 
 And needful rest secure thee. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Fatigue and I are enemies for-sworn 
 When thou art company. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 I will a nosegay cull, 
 And in thy hair entwine these woodland flowers; 
 Simple they are, but pretty, exceeding far 
 Those which in gardens grow. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Think you so ? 
 Duke. 
 
 I do, in that they are the work of Nature's self, 
 
 No hand of man assisting; so, too, association lends 
 
 them grace, 
 And makes them doubly charming. 
 The cultured flower ever did to me a prisoner seem, 
 Like some fair lady in a palace pent. 
 And in her sorrow lovely. 
 
 Tj^pe of thyself, till now unseen, 
 The modest violet blooms, half hidden in the verdure. 
 There, now look you like a queen. 
 Fair nature's queen, Flora herself excelling. 
 
 Cai'lotta. 
 
 Accept, I pray, for these expressions sweet 
 My bounteous thanks. Flowers for love were made, 
 
 8 
 
114 Zbe DiBconeoIate Aonarcb 
 
 And thou shalt be no less adorned than I. 
 
 Thy hat around place I this wreath. Around thy neck 
 
 This garland. This double flower next thy heart shall 
 
 stand 
 For both our loves. 
 
 Duke. 
 I shall in flowers smother. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Indeed you shall, nor shall you see for them, 
 But must by me be led. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Oh, happy thought, to be by Venus led 
 In chains of flowers! 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 The birds, mistaking thee for some fair bower, 
 Will thereupon surround thee, and give out 
 Their choicest melody. 
 
 Diike. 
 Thy voice no music ever can excel. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 And none with thine compare. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 The sun the heavens climbs. Oh, let us on, 
 Still hand in hand, unto some country house. 
 Wherein we '11 find both food and rest. 
 
act HD. Scene 2 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 I have partaken all the way along 
 Of thy sweet voice. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 I would I could my heart's dear rapture pour 
 Unto thine ear, in words of burning love. 
 Let me upon thy lips love's token press. 
 
 115 
 
 Love's token ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 'T is a kiss. 
 Now we will on ; each step we take 
 Doth bring us one step nearer heaven's gate. 
 
Act IV. Scene 3. 
 
 Throne room in King's castle. King and Queen numerously 
 attended. 
 
 Queen. 
 Hath pardon issued to Merano ? 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 
 It has; he now is free. 
 
 And apprehended, and in chains, are those 
 
 Whose perjured oaths did doom him to the block. 
 
 For 't is past doubt revealed 
 
 The ambitious Licencio (in whose way he stood) — 
 
 With other of our Council by him suborned— 
 
 Did heinously conspire, and fix upon 
 
 His ignominious death. 
 
 Queejt. 
 I know not what to think. 
 
 Kl7lg. 
 
 L,et but occasion come, and seeming virtue 
 To hideous vice transforms. 
 
 116 
 
act nit). Scene 3 in 
 
 Queen. 
 
 'T is true. 
 Virtue is oft a cloak vice to conceal, 
 Revealed when occasion come. 
 
 King, 
 
 All men are honest where nothing is to steal — 
 But of Carlotta. 
 
 I had not thought so soon to be transformed 
 From that I was. 
 
 Qiieeti. 
 
 You had no need so soon to note the event 
 With this festivity — this night indeed, to-morrow night, 
 Had been a night too soon. The night succeeding 
 Would find you rested, and with sleep restored. 
 To grace the occasion better. 
 
 King. 
 
 How could I sleep for joy, or say I slept ? 
 Could sleep such comfort and contentment give 
 As now are mine ? Do not believe it. 
 
 Come, be thou cheerful, 
 And wear upon thy countenance the smile 
 Which should of all be thine. 
 As we, thou know'st so our guests will be, 
 Whose feelings and whose actions but reflect 
 The image of our own. 
 Yea, bid J03' be welcome, for heaven knows 
 So little comfort doth this world bestow 
 That when it offer, it would folly seem 
 In us to accept it not. 
 But tell me, 
 Hath she not quickly altered in her mind ? 
 
118 Zbe Disconsolate /ftonarcb 
 
 Queen. 
 
 She has. 
 ICing. 
 'T is like she loved him not so much for all. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 A love professed, not felt, 
 The offspring of a giddy, girlish brain. 
 
 But wherefore comes she not ? — 't is very strange. 
 Henceforth let mirth and frolic hold the sway 
 Till lately held by gloom. 
 
 Away all care 
 Which until now played havoc with my brain. 
 In honor of our daughter, we devote 
 To each and all this evening's entertainment. 
 Cast ye aside all courtly graces, 
 And be yourselves alike in mind and manners. 
 Nor king nor kingdom for the nonce I '11 know, 
 But be in mirth as ye. Prithee let 's be seated. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Now, good Bolerio, being prepared, prithee 
 Make beginning. 
 
 Let us Carlotta wait. 
 
 Queefi. 
 'T is strange she comes not. 
 
 An hour now is past since last I sent. 
 
act ITD. Scene 3 119 
 
 Queen. 
 She will come anon. 
 
 Kmg. 
 
 Go you, Rinaldo, and request her hither. 
 
 [Exit Rinaldo. 
 Bolerio, that we did love, cherish, and enfold you, 
 As is a brother firmly to our heart, 
 Needs not the proof of words. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Have I in aught offended ? 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 No, only we could wish 
 
 That as our love was, and is, it may continue long 
 To blossom and to bless you. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 Be assured, no act of mine shall mar it, 
 Nor make it less. 
 
 {King and Queen descend throne.) 
 
 King. 
 
 We owe thee much, so much. 
 
 That we do think it ne'er can be repaid 
 
 With any simple service we may do thee. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 I have done but duty. 
 
 King. 
 
 Thou hast exceeded all duty; 
 
 Thou hast shown such acts 
 
 As love and friendliness alone can urge to. 
 
120 ^be Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 Bolerio. 
 To be thus commended 
 Is to have reached the height of my ambition. 
 
 Queen. 
 Thy words do with thine actions well conjoin. 
 King. 
 
 And we no less are honored, honoring thee, 
 
 Which now our purpose is. 
 
 (To Page.) 
 
 Bring me my sword. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 What would your gracious Majesties? 
 
 King. 
 With title honor thee. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 I am most happy being that I am. 
 
 And what I am I would for life remain. 
 
 'T is twice ten years and five since you to me 
 
 My present office gave. Therein yo\x honored me, 
 
 And I its duties faithfully to fill 
 
 Have ever tried. That I have pleased — 
 
 I seek no praise — my present having proves; 
 
 For had I not, had I been negligent, indifferent, 
 
 Or shown m5'^self incapable, you would in 
 
 Common justice to yourself, 
 
 Howe'er you liked my person. 
 
 Have displaced me. 
 
 I now am old, and age his habits 
 Cannot safely change from what they are, 
 
act nit). Scene 3 121 
 
 As younger persons can ; but still must bend 
 His footsteps, still pursue his way accustomed, 
 Or yield himself as lost. 
 
 Queen, 
 Speak on, Bolerio, if more you have to speak. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 Oh, believe me, 
 
 I rather would my present oflBce hold 
 
 Unto the end than to exchange it for a dukedom 
 
 And exchange the life whereto I 'm wedded; 
 
 Thus kneeling, I entreat you. 
 
 Enter Page bearing sword on a cushion.] 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Most men advancement seek, 
 You decline it offered. 
 
 King. 
 
 Thou man of sweet content, 
 
 I would not from thy pleasure take one jot 
 
 For all the world. 
 
 Hold thou thy office still, and still receive 
 
 Thy merited advancement. 
 
 (Knights him. A flourish of trumpets.) 
 Arise thee now a Knight of Alcanez, 
 For such thou art, and second unto none 
 In all our realm. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 Since you this honor have conferred upon me, 
 Be mine the care to guard it zealously. 
 
122 XLbe Disconsolate Monarch 
 
 lyong live you to enjoy it! 
 
 How say you to it, all ? 
 
 A/L 
 Long may Bolerio in honor live ! 
 
 Carlotta yet is absent. Go thou, good Pedro, 
 
 And bring us word wherefore she 
 
 Comes not. 
 
 [Exit Pedro. 
 Enter Captain of the Guard.'] 
 
 Welcome, yea, nor thou alone ; 
 The commonest soldier, he who stands 
 In rank the lowest, is in our presence welcome; 
 All this night are welcome. 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 
 I would I could thy happy welcome greet 
 With news as truly happy. 
 
 Qjieen. 
 News ? What news ? 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 
 What 's the matter, pray ? 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 
 Let me depart unspoken. 
 
 Nor vex this glad occasion with the words 
 
 Which I must, speaking, utter. 
 
Hct W. Scene 3 123 
 
 Hence foul suspicion ; 
 
 Let the worst be known that it may cure the worst. 
 
 Hold we our daughter still ? 
 
 Captahi of the Gtiard. 
 
 Deeply repentant does the Princess come, 
 And will anon be with you. 
 
 King. 
 
 Why then the worst of news which thou canst speak 
 Shall be as no word spoken. 
 
 Captat?i of the Guard. 
 
 The villainous Duke, if Duke he be, 
 
 With courage matchless to the tower came 
 
 King. 
 
 Stay, stay thy tongue. 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 'T is true I found him there. 
 
 Quee7i, 
 
 Within the tower ? 
 
 King. 
 Past sentinels and all ? 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 
 Howe'er it chanced, my liege, I found him there 
 And with this sword engaged him. 
 
 Quee7i. 
 
 Without connivance this had never been. 
 
134 Zbe Disconsolate /llbonarcb 
 
 I am amazed. 
 
 Audacity hath crept from far and near 
 
 And in this ruffian centres. 
 
 I must henceforth my chamber strongly guard, 
 
 I^est I in bed be bearded. 
 
 Q7iee?i. 
 Yea, even now may he be company, and smiling 
 Mock our wonder. 
 
 Captain of the Guard. 
 So great his haste, I think he yet doth run. 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 The Princess saw him not, no ? 
 
 Captam of the Guai'd. 
 
 Not as I think. 
 King. 
 Be it a secret kept, 
 
 Lest it in her love's passion re-arouse, 
 And sweet repentance mar; and till she come. 
 We will in full this serious matter hear 
 To learn where blame should fall. 
 No more. She comes. 
 
 Enter Clarissa, disguised as the Princess, veiled. She is em- 
 braced by the Kittg,"] 
 
 Ctarissa. 
 
 (Kneeling before Queen.) 
 Most humbly I implore forgiveness. 
 
 King. 
 Most freely we forgive thee. 
 
act IllD. Scene 3 125 
 
 Clarissa . 
 
 That I have beeu a wayward, foolish girl, 
 More capable of evil than of good, 
 Caring but too little for thy good direction. 
 Though be it to ray everlasting shame, 
 I do most humbly acknowledge it. 
 
 King. 
 
 Most freely we forgive thee, and wipe out 
 All trace of thy past conduct. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 My every future act shall be 
 An atonement for past folly. 
 
 Qtieen. 
 But wherefore goest thou veiled ? 
 
 Claiissa. 
 
 I would you should not look upon that shame 
 Which lies so heavy on me. 
 
 King. 
 
 Do not speak of that. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Let me for penance of my sin go veiled 
 For two brief months; these away, 
 You then shall see your daughter as she was, 
 And not the maid I am. 
 
 King. 
 
 No! No! 
 
126 Zbe Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 C/arissa. 
 I am resolved, if you will have it so. 
 
 Queen. 
 Then be it so. 
 We will till then this merriment postpone. 
 
 Oh, for a dozen daughters such as she ! 
 Once more I thee embrace. 
 
 
 
act ID. 
 
 127 
 
Act V. Scene i. 
 
 An apartment in the King's castle. Clarissa (unveiled) seated, 
 her face buried in her arms on a table. She rises. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 A crown immortal had not been so clutched 
 
 As I at this; I who well knew 
 
 That title in itself no pleasure brings 
 
 Even to him entitled, and must have known 
 
 I could not long this borrowed plumage wear 
 
 With pleasure to myself. 
 
 Oh, worse it seems than murder 'gainst self committed; 
 
 That were indeed an ending; an end all here. 
 
 (Draws dagger.) 
 The means is at command. If that were all, 
 How easy, now and here, to end it all. 
 
 (Throws away dagger.) 
 Go, go thou instrument of blood and death. 
 And be no more about me, lest I grow bold, 
 Or in a fit of weakness undertake 
 That which I should not; 
 I dare not trust myself. 
 
 9 129 
 
180 Zbc disconsolate ^onarcb 
 
 I have fed my vanity so far, 
 That it hath like a far-stretched bladder burst, 
 And overwhelmed me. 
 Enter Pedro.] 
 
 What news ? 
 
 Pedro. 
 None. 
 
 C/arzssa. 
 
 Hear you naught ? 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 Nothing. 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Would the worst were known, 
 
 Lest apprehension, deadlier oft than proof, 
 
 My ending make. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 You are looking ill. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Remorse is mine, 
 And where remorse is, health can never come. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 The end, be it what it may. 
 
 Will be the same, though you do note it lightly. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 'T is easier ever good advice to give 
 Than to follow the advice that 's given. 
 Tell me not what to do, unless you tell 
 
 How I may do it. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 Occasion had you none 
 To do this deed. 
 
Hct ID. Scene I 131 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Occasion to evnl-doers ever comes ; 
 
 To me it came, and I embraced it. 
 
 But now I find — too late, indeed, we find — 
 
 How easier 't is an evil deed to do, 
 
 Than to repair an ill deed done. 
 
 Pedro. 
 All will yet be well. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 If I do innocently harm a friend, 
 
 Though blameless held, scarce less the hurt I feel 
 
 Than he who did receive it. 
 
 Yet, I have wilfully my best friends harmed. 
 
 The King and Queen, whose high esteem thus losing, 
 
 Lose I all, their high esteem and them. 
 
 A life of happiness and ease assured, 
 
 Is by this wicked deed forever lost, 
 
 And I an object hateful to myself 
 
 Must henceforth live. To die 
 
 Were better far than thus to live 
 
 And be by conscience goaded ; 
 
 To carry ever sad reflection's cup. 
 
 Whose bitter contents I myself did fill. 
 
 And I alone must sip. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 Hang not thy head ; look up. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 What wonder is it I do hang my head. 
 
 My face to hide for base ingratitude ? 
 
 I marvel much that mortals are such fools, 
 
132 Zbe 5)t0con6Olate /Bonarcb 
 
 To yield the good, and baser motives choose. 
 I dreamt last night. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 Dreamed ? 
 
 C/arissa. 
 
 A hateful dream, which bodes me, I am sure, 
 Some present ill. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 What dreamed you ? 
 
 C/arissa. 
 
 Methought the Queen beside the bed did come 
 Where I lay sleeping. Smiling, she stooped and 
 
 stroked me, 
 Placed oft in loving contact lip to lip. 
 On me bestowed a mother's fond affection. 
 Which even then, though dreaming, did appear 
 A circumstance most strange, 
 And filled my mind with fancy ; 
 Many and happy were the terms, and sweet. 
 Which she did shower on me, speaking oft: 
 "Only a maid, thou but a maid, come thou with me, 
 Who can so gracefully bedeck a throne." 
 
 Hand in hand she led me, 
 Even to the throne, thereon seated me, 
 And with her royal hands did crown me ; 
 The sceptre next within my grasp she placed. 
 And then, low kneeling, termed me " Majesty," 
 And wished my reign a long and prosperous one. 
 Then I, with power vested, laughed for joy. 
 Ere I, myself commanding, could assume 
 
act It). Scene I 133 
 
 The sober form and face of Majesty. 
 
 " Now, Madam, get you gone!" I cried, 
 
 With all the dignity I could command; 
 
 " Get 3^ou without my Court, and quickly too! " 
 
 At this she jested; wherefore I did rebuke her, 
 
 And spake thus: 
 
 " He farthest falls, who, standing highest, falls; 
 
 And you who have so fallen ne'er can rise, 
 
 Ne'er can regain the power late was yours, 
 
 Which when it was, then had you wisely done 
 
 To use that power, power still to have. 
 
 What have you now that you may call your own ? 
 
 Even so a fool would all his substance spend. 
 
 And live thenceforth, a wandering mendicant. 
 
 Go you and likewise live, and end your days 
 
 With what of comfort folly's act affords." 
 
 Pedro. 
 What spoke the Queen to this ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 With weeping eyes, upon her knees she fell, 
 And in a voice of pity did beseech 
 That she might be my servant, only this. 
 Whose duties she would faithfully perform. 
 And would not ask the sceptre back again. 
 
 Brief to speak, 
 Her present banishment I did decree, 
 When lo, the King, till then a stranger, came 
 And, hastily advancing to the throne. 
 Threw me thence headlong down. 
 Unto a dungeon was I then consigned; 
 Fettered I was and fastened to the ground. 
 
134 Cbe Disconsolate /Ronarcb 
 
 The slimy ground, whereon did serpents crawl, 
 
 The vile companions of my solitude; 
 
 Bats and birds uncanny filled the air, 
 
 And oft their wings the dreaded stillness broke. 
 
 Whereat the owl from slumber being disturbed 
 
 Did issue loud his hideous doleful cry. 
 
 Forms strange and monster-like, 
 With eyes aglow, did pierce the darkness, 
 Yea, did look as they would there devour me ; 
 Which time, loud noises were, and fearful cries, 
 Of clanking chains, and torture-sufifering souls, 
 And at brief intervals did silence reign. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 How could you, in the darkness, see all this ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 So in my dream it was, 't is all I know; 
 
 And thus I dreamt I passed my length of years. 
 
 And was at last to execution led. 
 
 Oh, torture terrible! 
 
 My severed head, falling face upward turned, 
 
 And, all its sense retaining, viewed the body. 
 
 Whose crimson, as in scorn, it spurted on it, 
 
 And covered quite the face; 
 
 Then, oh! then did I in terror waking leap from bed, 
 
 And " Murder! " cry, and Heaven's mercy beg; 
 
 My hands instinctively did clutch my head 
 
 To learn for truth if it were mine or no, 
 
 So hideous real did seem this mockery ! 
 
 Heaven its mercy lend, 
 
 I would not dream another such a dream 
 
 To be the ruler of one half the world 
 
 And reign in peace perpetual. 
 
Bet ID. Scene I 135 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 Dreams are but dreams, 
 The offspring, as you know, of minds disturbed. 
 
 Clarissa, 
 
 Evil of evil, joys from good acts spring. 
 
 Would I had been born a fool. 
 For to be wise is often to be wicked, knowing, 
 Not avoiding, the peril of our lives; 
 The fool doth sail upon a tranquil sea, 
 Fearing no trouble. 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 I am commanded to search you out. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Who hath commanded this ? 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 The Queen. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 And when upon this errand set you out ? 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 To-morrow. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Give me thy hand. Farewell, 
 
 And if I no more meet thee, still be happy. 
 
 Pedro. 
 Hope for the best. 
 
 [Exit Pedro. 
 
136 Cbe 2)l6Con60late /Ibonarcb 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 I never more will cherish any wish, 
 
 But take events as time shall force them on me. 
 
 Oh, that my vanity had overcome me not ! 
 
 I could be merry now. 
 
 Give me my gown again, and take your title. 
 
 Since titles ever coupled are with care. 
 
 They say it is ambition doth urge us on. 
 
 But I do think the devil drives us on. 
 
 A fool is he who for renown 
 
 Would yield contentment, even for a crown. 
 
 My soldier-lover comes who weeps me lost. 
 
 (Veils her face.) 
 Enter Baseno.'] 
 
 What, still in tears, Baseno ? Fie, for shame ! 
 Tears more a woman than a man become, 
 Think of your soldiership. 
 
 Base7io. 
 I can think only of her. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 But she, you say, is gone. 
 
 Base?io. 
 Gone, but not I hope forever. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 What if it prove so ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 That she no more return ? 
 
act V, Scene I 137 
 
 C/an'ssa. 
 Ay. 
 Baseno. 
 Then I am desperately resolved. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 To what intent ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 I cannot live without her. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Foolish fellow, you would not harm yourself ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 Alas, I know not what I might do ! 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Was it not by her means you received your wound, 
 And the King's reprimand, and barely escaped 
 A dungeon ? 
 
 Baseno. 
 'T was not her fault. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Whose, then ? 
 
 Baseiio. 
 The drink did it. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 And she gave it thee. 
 
 Baseiio. 
 I took it of my own wish ; I blame not her. 
 
138 dbe Dtsconsolatc /Obonarcb 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 I see thou art obstinately in love, 
 And there is no help for thee. 
 What have you there, a picture ? 
 
 Basetio. 
 
 Her picture; would it were herself. 
 Look, what an eye she hath. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Here, kiss my hand, and think 't is Clarissa. 
 
 Baseno. 
 Your Highness, I fear, makes light of my grief. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Do not believe it ; and furthermore, if you make 
 Not a child of yourself, it may be that I 
 Will marry thee. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 Your Highness marry with me ! 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 With thee. 
 
 Baseno. 
 
 I must beg your Highness' permission to pass along. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Do as you will, but do yourself no wrong. 
 The maid you love, her you again shall see. 
 But ask me not when, nor where. 
 For truth receive it, and till then be happy. 
 
 [Exeunt separately. 
 
Act V. Scene 2. 
 
 An apartment in the King's castle. Queen, Bolerio, Fernando, 
 Pedro, and a Lady of the Court present. 
 
 Ouee7i. 
 
 (Handing letters to Fernando and Pedro.) 
 Deliver each these letters, 
 And speed attend you both. 
 
 Fernando. 
 Madam, it shall. 
 
 [Exeunt Fernando and Pedro. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 (Coming forward.) 
 Would I could foresee 
 
 The end of this foul business, whose every thought, 
 Like lead, does weigh me down and drives 
 All but itself away ! 
 
 Rebellion ! Cursed monster ! 
 Wherefore art thou come to this, our kingdom ? 
 Where, not we alone, but Peace and Plenty reigned, 
 Where every man did verify content 
 In word and action — 
 Hell-born thou art, and bred, 
 
 139 
 
140 XLbe SXsconsolatc /B^onarcb 
 
 Thy legions, and thy abhorred agents all 
 
 On thee attend, to do thy bidding, 
 
 To overthrow all order, and to convert 
 
 Peace, gentle Peace, from her gentility 
 
 To hellish wreck and ruin. 
 
 On Death thou smilest 
 
 And thine arms extend, blood-smeared, 
 
 To him in greeting; 
 
 The widow and the orphan thou dost make 
 
 Thy jest, and from the breast 
 
 The innocent babe thou pluck'st. 
 
 Which thou dost, smiling, kill. 
 
 Oh, demon hideous! 
 Thy maw is limitless. 
 Is it not enough 
 
 That desolation like a spectre stalks 
 O'er all the land which thou hast visited, 
 But thou must howl for more ? 
 Thou hast so well performed, so hellish well, 
 That Pluto himself applauds 
 Thy work, and the winged host, appalled, 
 Their faces hide, and cry : 
 
 "No more! No more! Hell hath itself outdone." — 
 What is the hour ? 
 
 Lady of the Court. 
 'T is nine and past, your Majesty. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 I thought 't was later. 
 
 Mine eyes grow weary. 
 
 And dull and heavy slumber steals upon me, 
 
 Which I cannot resist. Let it have way — 
 
act D. Scene 2 i4i 
 
 Arrange my chair, beseech you, 
 
 Face it toward the north, my custom ever, 
 
 So I may better sleep. 
 
 Lady of the Court, 
 
 Madam, we shall. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 'T is good; darken the lights; 
 
 Here will I rest a while 
 
 (Sits and falls asleep. Soft music.) 
 
 Bolerio. 
 She sleeps. 
 
 Lady of the Court. 
 
 Ay, but rests not. 
 
 (Curtain in rear opens, disclosing rebels and soldiery in conflict.) 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Look, she starts as she had something seen. 
 
 Lady of the Court. 
 Softly. Speak low. L,et her sleep on. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 Again she starts, and hides her ej'es 
 
 As from some horrid scene. 
 
 (Curtain closes.) 
 
 Lady of the Court. 
 
 Such sleep more harms 
 
 Than need of sleep not taken. 
 
 Madam, awake. 
 
 {Queen starts and arises.) 
 
143 ^be Dtsconeolate /Bbonaccb 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Have done — have done — 
 
 Sleeping or waking, evermore pursued. 
 
 Enter King, attended,] 
 
 Why are you come, my Lord ? 
 
 I thought you now abed. 
 
 King. 
 
 Letter on letter crowding, all confirm 
 'T is he, the Duke of Combra. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 I had suspected any other man. 
 
 King. 
 
 His name and reputation spoke him good, 
 
 So good, that I did place him in the highest niche, 
 
 In my esteem. 
 
 Oiceen. 
 
 Some demon sure possessed him that he took 
 So foul a means to stain so fair a fame. 
 
 King. 
 But of Clarissa ; she, you say, is missing. 
 
 Queen. 
 Since Monday last. 
 
 King. 
 
 I cannot now remember 
 Any act of mine should drive her hence. 
 
 Qtieen. 
 
 Nor I of mine. 
 
act V, Scene 2 143 
 
 Perchance she hath to the city gone. 
 
 Queen. 
 For what purpose, pray ? 
 
 King. 
 She, too, may have a lover. 
 
 Qzieen. 
 
 Were ever mortals so perplexed as we ? 
 Our very household does our presence fly 
 To seek the embrace of Cupid ; 
 
 Carlotta did the example set 
 
 Enter Clarissa, as the Princess, veiled.] 
 
 KiJig. 
 
 She comes. Let me thy form embrace. 
 
 Tell me, my sweet one, draws the time not near 
 
 When we shall see thee as thou shouldst appear ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 In seven weeks more this veil I cast. 
 
 Kifig. 
 Time will but go on crutches until then. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I would not break my part-performed resolve. 
 
 Queen. 
 Resolves once made should carry to the end. 
 
144 Zbe Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 So shall she hers, since she hath so resolved. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I am in this most happy. 
 
 Thy penance o'er, we will in jollity and feasting spend 
 A like expanse of time. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 So long ? 
 
 J^zng. 
 One day of joy for each day's penance done. 
 
 Q2ieen. 
 
 Continued pleasures, pleasures cease to be, 
 Most we enjoy whereof we least possess. 
 
 King. 
 Attends Bolerio in person here ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 He does, my liege. 
 
 King. 
 
 Draw near. Canst thou prepare a feast ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 I think I can. 
 
 King. 
 
 A goodly one, such as will tickle palates overcloyed 
 And make men eat despite their wish to do so ? 
 
Hct V). Scene 2 145 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 Such a feast will I prepare 
 That age no less than youth shall smack his lips 
 And sigh, being full, for more. 
 
 Kmg. 
 
 The occasion calls for it, — 
 On that same night our daughter's penance ends. 
 Let it then be done, with such additions, 
 Revelries, and sports, as thou canst best devise. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 My ingenuity to its uttermost tax 
 Shall answer it. 
 
 Queen. 
 And now, I pray you, leave us, leave us all, 
 
 And unto all, good-night. 
 
 [Exeunt Suite. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Would you that I retire ? 
 
 King. 
 Would we that you retire ? 
 Thou all in all to us, beloved one, no; 
 Pleased am I most when thou art company. 
 Why have you lately held yourself reserved 
 From us, who love thee, and would do for thee 
 What best is for thy good ? 
 Love from love not runs, as thou from us. 
 When we do oft approach. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 The more thy love, the greater shame is mine, 
 That I so sinned 'gainst love. 
 
146 Zbe Disconsolate flbonarcb 
 
 Let thy shame be light, as is in us remembrance 
 Of the deed of which thou art ashamed. 
 
 Clafissa. 
 I would fain go pray. 
 
 King. 
 
 Was ever man with so good daughter blessed ? 
 Would all were like thee. 
 
 Clarissa, now of all time, best could serve thee. 
 Best aid and comfort thee. You miss her much ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Very much. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Did you by act or otherwise divine 
 Her going hence ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 I did not. 
 
 Qiieen. 
 
 Seemed she not happy ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Very happy, and so expressed herself. 
 
 King . 
 
 The wonder is that one confessedly happy 
 Should surreptitiously herself convey 
 From those who made her happy ; 
 
act D. Scene 2 147 
 
 But we will take it as a strangeness in her, 
 A strangeness not unnatural to woman, 
 And so dismiss it. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 I fear I weary and hold you from 
 
 What most you do require, refreshing slumber. 
 
 Kmg. 
 
 Thou art in regard of us a thoughtful girl ; 
 We will anon to bed, and claim of morning 
 What the night shall borrow, so make us 
 Even with it. 
 
 And now, I pray you, listen, 
 Give good ear to what I now would speak, 
 For it concerns thee. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Me? 
 
 King. 
 
 Thee, child. 
 As should a wife unto her husband yield 
 In all things just, so hast thy loving mother 
 Unto me in this, that I would now the happy 
 Subject broach of marriage. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Of marriage ? 
 
 Ki7ig. 
 Of marriage, daughter. 
 
 Barring thy penance, the present ever is the better 
 time; 
 
148 Zbe ©isconeolate /Ibonarcb 
 
 For we do deem it wise to do at once 
 
 What we have once resolved. 
 
 " Barring thy penance," thus it was I spoke; 
 
 Now it may be, and very properly, 
 
 Thy judgment is with thy contrition bettered. 
 
 Sobered, and set down to level of itself. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I am not what I was. 
 
 Thus conditioned, thou may'st haply see 
 
 Things as they are. 
 
 How long is it, think you. 
 
 Since first your sometime suitor did essay 
 
 To win your love ? 
 
 C/arissa. 
 
 I hold it not in memory; 
 Some sixteen months or longer; 
 I cannot tell. 
 
 And hath he not in all that lapse of time 
 The tender passion moved ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 He hath not. 
 Which he perceiving, 
 His ruder spirit calling into play, 
 He sought, and very oft, to force consent. 
 
 How say you, — force consent ? 
 
act ID. Scene 2 149 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Very oft. 
 King. 
 
 Oh, wherefore mentioned you not this before ? 
 His face and gentleness did point him out 
 A gentleman true born. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 The face no more is index to the mind, 
 
 And man must be by his own actions judged; 
 
 No standard else. 
 
 Khig. 
 
 Few men there are but they some virtue have, 
 Some tender chord within their bosoms placed, 
 Which, when 't is touched upon, sends forth, indeed, 
 A most melodious music. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 In him no virtue is, him to redeem. 
 
 I marvel much what peril doth in honesty abide 
 
 That man so shuns it. 
 
 King. 
 
 This with the letter makes the proof as strong 
 As we could wish. 
 
 All is confirmed. 
 
 Queefi. 
 
 King. 
 
 Carlotta, here in the corridor lately has been found 
 An unsealed letter, by this same suitor writ 
 Unto a kinsman. Therein makes he known — 
 
150 Cbc Disconsolate /ftonarcb 
 
 I blush to say it — that he did never love thee, 
 His purpose being — he himself avows — 
 To obtain the emoluments and the princely name 
 Which would with thee belong. 
 
 Queen. 
 A most audacious rufl&an. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 I am glad you discovered this. 
 
 King. 
 
 A late discovery better is than none ; 
 But we will of this matter nothing speak ; 
 Let him sue on, nor deem his little scheme 
 Of such importance as to wish it done. 
 It will not be for long. 
 Oh, that we only had the power to see 
 Man as he is, not as he often seems; 
 To scan with equal ease the inner man 
 As is the outer seen ; 
 To know the mind's deep working, 
 And to know what damned villainies 
 Therein do lie, concealed with smiles 
 And base hypocrisy. 
 
 Queen. 
 This villain then had been a villain known. 
 
 King. 
 How stands the Duke of Combra in thy love ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 As ever, 
 
 With such addition as the passing time 
 To true love gives. 
 
act D. Scene 2 151 
 
 King. 
 Had he but made his amorous passion known, 
 What peril to himself, what grief and care, 
 Had he not spared us all ! 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 He thought, my L,ord, as I did, 
 
 That you your mind had on Fredrico fixed 
 
 Immovably. Love is a quality indefinable, 
 
 By no law governed, not accountable, being opposed, 
 
 For what it doeth. 
 
 King. 
 
 I know not whether that be so or no. 
 
 But we will send to him, 
 
 And thy penance o'er. 
 
 Prepare thou then to wed ; and may your lives 
 
 Both bright and prosperous be as have your 
 
 Loves been strong. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 What would I not speak. 
 But that great joy prevents it! 
 
 King. 
 \^Fredrico enters, and having crossed 
 rear of apartment passes out. 
 
 He comes whom now we spoke of. 
 His eyes upon the floor in eager search. 
 He hath no doubt his ill-writ letter missed. 
 He sees us not. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 How like a hypocrite he looks 
 Now that we know him one: 
 
152 Zbc Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 Even such a look the villainous lago wore, 
 When he the soul of Desdemona's Moor 
 Did harrow up to torturing jealousy. 
 
 Such as he, with ej'es uplift, 
 A prayer book in his hand, chanting an orison, 
 Would filch the vestments and the sacred relics 
 Within a Sanctuary. 
 
 {Fredrico re-enters.) 
 Now comes he back again. 
 
 Frednco. 
 
 I crave j'our pardons, 
 A letter lost did keep my eyes away 
 From those they most should look on. 
 How fare your Majesties in health to-night ? 
 
 Well. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 And you, fair Princess? Nay, I know you 're well; 
 The damask on thy cheek would it denote 
 But that thy veil conceals it, 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 I thank you, well. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Heaven be praised therefor; for, indeed. 
 
 If we have health. 
 
 We have much more than can the world bestow, 
 
 With all its riches. 
 
act D. Scene 2 153 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Are you not well ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Well, but worried, a trifle worried, 
 About a letter, foolishly mislaid, 
 Or lost it may be. 
 
 King. 
 
 Where ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 In the castle here — or here or elsewhere; — 
 Certain 't is, 't is gone; but where, I know not. 
 
 Quee7i. 
 Have you your person searched ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 I have it not about me, that I know, 
 For I have searched. 
 
 King. 
 
 Where you have dropped it, 
 There it yet may lie. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Indeed, I hope so, and that I may find it. 
 
 It were a dreadful matter, so it were, 
 
 To have one's lines by common people scanned. 
 
 King. 
 Was it for us intended ? 
 
154 ^be Disconsolate :flbonarcb 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 No, no, your Majesty, although, indeed, 
 
 I would that you had seen it. A poem it was, 
 
 In very truth, a poem. 
 
 From first to last a poem, writ in prose, 
 
 And it the Princess's virtues did recount, 
 
 And my dear love for her. 
 
 But this my modesty had fain withheld, 
 
 Had circumstance not forced it. 
 
 Queen. 
 (Aside.) 
 
 How easy 't is to lie and wear the mask 
 
 Of sober honesty! 
 
 lyet no man hence be trusted. 
 
 King. 
 
 Your modesty, no less your honesty, are virtues, sir. 
 You should indeed be proud of. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Why, so I am, as who should not 
 That have them ? 
 
 King. 
 
 With us, 't is bedtime. 
 
 Lovers are best alone, and it may be 
 
 You have a word to say. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 A word, ay, two or three. 
 
 King. 
 
 As you love her, make your parting brief; 
 Late is the hour, and she hath need of rest. 
 
Set V, Scene 2 155 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Angels guard your Majesties. 
 
 [Exeunt King and Queen. 
 
 Have you, Carlotta, my proposal pondered, 
 
 At our last meeting made, as then you promised ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I have considered it. 
 
 {King and Queen appear in background, 
 looking from behind curtains.) 
 
 Fredrico, 
 How say you ? 
 
 Can you with answer favorable make glad 
 A heart to you devoted ? 
 Or must it still in doubt and darkness throb, 
 A slave to fear and dread uncertainty ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Scarce dare we trust our own hearts; 
 How much less, then, the hearts of others. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 The King, thy father, even now did say that I am 
 
 honest ; 
 And when I say I love thee, being honest, 
 What shouldst thou believe but that I love thee ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 My heart responds not. 
 Hold not me to blame ; I cannot love you. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 By Heaven, you shall, though it be but assumed. 
 And of a kind by woman often used 
 
156 Zbc Dtsconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 To guile man into marriage. 
 
 lyook j'ou, 
 
 If they who lack it will protest their love, 
 
 What shall I believe but that thou hast it 
 
 Who protest it not ? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 That implies possession, which I lack, 
 As truly as I speak it. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 That I by nature favored should so sue, 
 
 And not be loved, outruns the stretch of reason. 
 
 I '11 not believe it. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 If you will teach me how you may believe 
 Against the use of reason, I praj^ 3'ou do so. 
 Have you your sight and hearing ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Woman ever is but what she seems. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Therein most shamefully you do abuse 
 The noble name of woman. 
 Have you a mother ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 She died. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 So, I doubt not, has her memory 
 In j'ou who should respect it. 
 
Bet V, Scene 2 157 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Say that you love me, and no more I '11 rail, 
 No more abuse the noble name of woman, 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Where my love is, 
 There my love I '11 show. 
 And so I leave you. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 You stir not 
 Till I have forced from out your secret soul 
 I am of you beloved. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 What would you ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Force you to that you would not ; 
 Avow your passion, make it this night known; 
 Or that or not, I care not, so you but say 
 You will alone be mine. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Unhand me. 
 Fredrico. 
 Futile thy efforts when opposed 
 Against my strength and will. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I will draw 
 The anger of the Court upon you. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Come Hell and all its legionary imps, I care not; 
 Methinks 't were easy as to wink, to kill. 
 
158 XLbe Disconsolate /IRonarcb 
 
 This night, one hundred men. 
 
 Consent with me to wed, 
 
 Or be a witness to a deed of blood 
 
 Which I have sworn to do. (Draws dagger.) 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Wilt thou murder me ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 No, myself rather. Thus I set thee free, 
 While I am bound in fetters stronger far 
 Than ever felon stayed. You hesitate, nor answer. 
 Then fix thine eyes upon me, and live free 
 From cankering remorse, if so thou canst. 
 I murder not myself; thou murder' st me 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Stay, stay thy hand ; 
 
 My doubts are all dispelled; thine act doth show, 
 More than mere words, thy love's true quality. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Oh, say you so? 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I now do make avowal of my love, 
 Which, doubting thine, till now I did withhold 
 To make avowal. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Henceforth thy slave, 
 Command me what thou wilt. 
 
 {King and Queen withdraw.) 
 
 Clarissa. 
 I do command you forthwith to arise; 
 I would myself unto no husband kneel, 
 
act X>. Scene 2 159 
 
 Nor brook it in my husband. 
 
 Man and wife should be 
 
 In all things equal, yielding, 
 
 Nor view austerely, each the other's faults, 
 
 As they were sins indeed — 
 
 Small faults, being dwelt on, 
 
 Very oft do grow to large proportions, 
 
 Oft end in misery and woe. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Each day shall pattern that it follows; 
 Each and all a copy to the world 
 Of wedded bliss immutable. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Will you by me be willed ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 In all things. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Nor question reason for it ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Never. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Then must you forthwith from the castle go, 
 Nor come again till I do send for you ; 
 Then will our nuptials be, and then I '11 reasons give 
 
 you. 
 Which, to hear, shall satisfy you fully. 
 
 The King and Queen 
 Will of your absence nothing curious seem. 
 It shall appear, so will I make it known. 
 
160 Zbe Disconsolate ^onarcb 
 
 You were upon some sudden business called, 
 And could stay not the courtesy of leaving. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 This I '11 do, or this or anything 
 You do command. 
 
 Clai'issa. 
 Therein you please me. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Take thou my ring, love's holy token take; 
 It is with diamonds set and jewels rare; 
 An antique ring, and sweet in memory 
 Of one dear soul departed. 
 I would not part it, but to give it thee, 
 For all the world ; therefore'may you know 
 How dear I hold it, and thy love also. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Wear mine for me, 
 
 A plain gold ring, with no bright diamond set, 
 Nor jewel rare, nor cluster round it 
 Hallowed memories; yet I prize it much. 
 And give it thee to prove my love is such. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 I '11 wear it ever, ever think of thee. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 So will I thine, 
 
 And in thy absence, wishing thou wert near, 
 I '11 kiss it often, ever hold it dear. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 And must I, sweet one, from thy presence go, 
 Nor more behold thee, for so long a time ? 
 
act D. Scene 2 
 
 161 
 
 Clarissa. 
 It will not be for long. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Where love is strong, 
 Love from love parted makes the minutes long 
 As hours in sickness spent. 
 I shall be ill till we again do meet. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Brief parting often friendship re-creates 
 And makes it stronger. 
 
 Fredj'ico. 
 But love is of a different quality ; 
 Love is love's nourishment, thereon alone it thrives, 
 And knows no surfeit. Of this food deprived, 
 Then grows it ill, and very often dies. 
 Well, I will go, and only say, good-night, 
 Good-night, my Sweet. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Good-night, my Lord, 
 
 My Lord, my Love, good-night. [Exit Fredrico. 
 
 Well rid of. He thinks me but a fool; 
 Himself, King Solomon. I '11 teach this knave 
 He yet might go to school 
 With profit to himself. 
 
Act V. Scene 3. 
 
 A landscape, to one side tents and Soldiers. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 How comes it, Sergeant, 
 
 That this our third week out 
 
 Hath brought us not so many men by half 
 
 As did our former expeditions in one third the time ? 
 
 Sergeant. 
 War is a thing the people tire of. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 It must be so; 
 
 Here we have drummed and drummed, 
 And poured our music and our efforts out 
 To no success. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 At first, as if to enter upon a dance, 
 They took to it with much spirit. 
 But now, like dance-wearied souls. 
 They care no more for it. They are satisfied. 
 That which to us is music at the first 
 Grows by its constant hearing to be discord. 
 
 162 
 
act D. Scene 3 163 
 
 CorporaL 
 They like it not as formerlj'. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 But here comes our Lieutenant ; 
 
 Strike up the drums again, that he may know 
 
 We are at least awake. 
 
 Enter Lieutenant.'] 
 
 Lieutenant. 
 Good-evening, Sergeant, 
 
 Sergeant. 
 The like to you, sir. 
 
 Lieutenant. 
 How look the people on the kingdom's cause ? 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Poorly as yet. This our fourth day here 
 Has brought his Majesty but three recruits. 
 
 Lieutenant, 
 
 Count them as none; 
 The enemy o'erbears our firmest stand and holds 
 The advantage gained. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 What says the King to this ? 
 
 Lieutenant. 
 
 So is his mind upon the Princess fixed, 
 That he will brook no other subject talked, 
 Save what to her relates. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 Hath he lost his wits ? 
 
164 Zbc Disconsolate /Ronarcb 
 
 Lieutenant. 
 The Queen, with judgment keen 
 To our necessity, makes good his lack. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 An impressment, as I take it. 
 
 Lieitte7tant. 
 Here are your orders: up tents and onward. 
 Let the dawn not break ere you set out. 
 I am on duty ordered. Fare you well. 
 
 [Exit Lieutenant. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 What news, think' st thou ? 
 
 Corporal. 
 Hath the enemy been taken ? 
 
 Sergeant. 
 Conscription is now the word. 
 To-morrow must we off to fright the minds 
 Of yon villagers. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 Worse than a nightmare will our visit seem 
 
 To them, who dream not of it. 
 
 And what preposterous pretexts will they make 
 
 To claim exemption ! 
 
 Many, with aches rheumatic, will limp along. 
 
 Seeking of passer-by assistance on. 
 
 Who ne'er felt pain till now, and might as models 
 
 stand 
 For Hercules. 
 
 The deaf and dumb, a numerous throng, appear, 
 Each in his part rehearsed. Some will since yesterday 
 
Bet V, Scene 3 165 
 
 Have gone in years a good half-score, 
 
 And be by age exempt ; 
 
 And those who, when no war was, did proclaim 
 
 Their loj^alty aloud now no allegiance owe. 
 
 The Quakers' creed forbids the use of arms; 
 
 Many will needs be Quakers. 
 
 Serg'eani. 
 Ay, quake, lest they be doubted Quakers. 
 Corporal. 
 
 Alas! how many will have suddenly become 
 
 In their best sense affected, and grope. 
 
 With baize o'er-covered vision, with aid of staff, 
 
 Their devious waj'^s along. 
 
 'T is even said men from their hands 
 
 Have their base fingers cut 
 
 Ere they would risk them on the tented field, 
 
 They did so hate to serve their country. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 Would the power were mine 
 To place such cowards in the foremost ranks, 
 Where, to the liveliest music of the foe, 
 They should be danced to the death. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 But look where come the right sort of conscripts; 
 Greet them, Sergeant, greet them. 
 Let 's have sport. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 I will pay them soldierly respect; 
 I will salute them. 
 Enter Rosetta and Flore tta.'] 
 Good-evening, fair ones. 
 
166 {Ebe Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 Floretta. 
 Sirs, the same to you. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 'T is a fine day, what 's left of it. 
 Rosetta. 
 Indeed, sir, 't is very fine. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 Is it far you travel ? 
 Rosetta, 
 To the village yonder. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 How fai is it thither, pray ? 
 
 Floretta. 
 But two short miles. 
 
 Corporal. 
 Are there short and long miles, then ? 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 That mile is short, when goes your mind along; 
 A mind unwilling makes a long mile. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 The night comes rapidly on, 
 And will, I fear, o'ertake you. 
 
 Floretta. 
 
 We have an early moon will see us on ; 
 Besides, there are of us a dozen in our rear. 
 We shall not lack for company. 
 
act It). Scene 3 167 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 Oh, ho, the advance guard only. 
 Fear you not to travel by night ? 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 Alas, no! 
 
 What should we fear, being but homely 
 
 Lassies, and possessed of nothing I 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Oh, what a mine of unknown wealth is here ! 
 You are more rich than now you will confess. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 What call you rich ? 
 Of money I have none; and if I had, 
 I still would think me poor, deeming 
 Him rich alone who title bears. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Beauty is a more valuable acquisition 
 To woman than title, for does not title stoop 
 To beauty, be it of origin ever so humble ? 
 And in beauty, my lassie, thou art a very peer. 
 
 (The Corporal and Floretta go apart.) 
 
 Rosetta. 
 How you flatter! 
 
 Sergeant. 
 Not I, indeed. 
 
 Who knows a soldier flatterer, knows him 
 I never heard of. It lies not in our art to flatter. 
 Unless to flatter be to tickle men 
 With bayonet double-edged, with sharpened sword, 
 With ball, with bullet, and like pleasing things. 
 
168 ^be Disconsolate /Ibonarcb 
 
 To cause them cry you mercy, aud to make 
 Death and destruction on their faces sit. 
 This I have done, seen done, must do. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 That is a duty, sir. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 But look you, how the Corporal seems overcome. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 In thee Dame Nature bountifully shows. 
 Believe me, sweet, thou art her favorite, 
 Chosen to express her deftest skill 
 And outqueen fairest beauty. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 Did you hear that ? 
 Look how she yields to his soft words 
 
 Her lips. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 What say you now of your soldier flatterer ? 
 
 Sergeaiit. 
 He 's no soldier, only a Corporal. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 A Corporal no soldier! Ha, ha, ha! but listen. 
 
 Corporal. 
 Oft we speak, oft wish our words unspoken ; 
 So do I mine. Those lips divine 
 Are none of Nature's moulding. No, 
 Thou art of Heaven descended 
 To thrill man's heart, and by comparison with mortal 
 
 show 
 The homeliness of woman. 
 
act ID. Scene 3 169 
 
 Sergeant. 
 Heaven so keep my tongue 
 That flattery come not near it, 
 
 Floretta. 
 Speak you this in truth ? 
 
 Corporal. 
 As I am a soldier. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 To flattery prone, this maid henceforth 
 Will with the angels soar; 
 Too heavenly good for earth. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 Here come the others. Now must we along. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 You are in good time. 
 Enter numerous Village Girls. The moon rises.] 
 
 Come hither, Chick. 
 
 Bella. 
 
 Chick, call' St thou me Chick ? 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Child, Love, to please thee. 
 
 Bella. 
 Child ? 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 I did forget 
 Maids would be women called. 
 What is thy name ? 
 
 Bella. 
 Bella. 
 
170 zbc Disconsolate ^onarcb 
 
 Sergeanl. 
 A pretty name. Is there no more of it ? 
 
 Bella. 
 More would spoil it. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 So, indeed, it would. Come, look up cheerily. 
 Art thou not happy ? 
 
 Bella. 
 
 Very unhappy. 
 Sergeant. 
 So young and yet unhappy ! What lack'st thou ? 
 
 Bella. 
 A husband. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 A husband, thou talk'st of a husband! 
 Thou art not yet fifteen, nor yet from school. 
 
 Bella. 
 
 There art thou wrong. I am this day from school ; 
 And as for age, come Christmas, I shall be 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Prithee, how old ? 
 
 Bella. 
 
 Sir, seventeen years. 
 Sergeant. 
 
 So old, and still unmarried ? 
 
 Nay, then, I wonder not that you are sad. 
 
 Let me advise you. Stand not on choice ; 
 
act D. Scene 3 171 
 
 Ask the first lad you will. If be consent, marry him. 
 In four years more, when hath your mind matured, 
 You might not care to marry. There 's danger in 
 
 delay. 
 Of course, 't is better you should marry now, 
 And repent later, than to wait long. 
 And perchance ne'er marry, of course. 
 
 Delia. 
 
 Of course 't is. I thank you; 
 
 The advice is good and I will act on it. 
 
 Floretta . 
 Come, girls! 
 
 Our expectations in yonder village lie, 
 And we must hence, or lose them. 
 
 Soldier-Philosopher . 
 
 Is expectation ever realized ? 
 
 True pleasure but in the anticipation lies; 
 
 The act itself doth rarely furnish it. 
 
 The boy, unhappy with the restraints of youth, 
 
 For manhood sighs, and the coming time, 
 
 Thence to escape the fear-inspiring gaze 
 
 Of the birch-uplifting Pedant, spectacled. 
 
 Manhood thinks pleasure dwells in youth alone, 
 
 And fain would live his boyhood o'er again. 
 
 The bachelor and the benedict, each alike 
 
 His unhappy fate bemoans. 
 
 On sea, the sailor thinks alone of land, 
 
 And being on shore, sighs for the sea again. 
 
 The poor for riches, the rich more riches crave. 
 
 Hoping therewith true pleasure still to find, 
 
 Which now they have not. 
 
172 zbe Dfsconeolate flbonarcb 
 
 Thus, phantom-like, true pleasure is pursued, 
 And never captured. And thus it will be 
 Till Angel Gabriel shall his trumpet sound 
 The doom of all things earthly. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 Who is this man ? 
 
 Sergeatit. 
 This is our Soldier-Philosopher. 
 A soldier who never yet saw battle, 
 And would swoon at sight of blood. 
 
 Floretta. 
 
 How strange, philosophy and warfare! 
 Two opposites. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 But listen, he 's full of it. 
 Ladies, will you be seated ? 
 
 Rosetta. 
 How comes it you 're a soldier ? 
 
 Soldier- Philosopher. 
 Nay, who knows; I myself know not. 
 What we are, we are not oft from choice. 
 But as we are led. Puppets, in the hand of fate, 
 We move as we are moved. 
 
 Floretta. 
 Ambition led him to it. 
 
 Soldier-Ph ilosoph er. 
 So high ambition soars 
 We strain ourselves with reaching ; 
 Oft from reaching, fall. 
 And no more rise. 
 
Hct It). Scene 3 173 
 
 Village Girls. 
 
 Good, good! Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 Thou art already famous. 
 
 Soldier- Philosopher. 
 
 What 's fame, unless it be a name for good 
 Deeds done — but breath — a grave; 
 Perchance, a monument; — a monument, 
 A mockery, what more, to teach man 
 What he is, not what he was. 
 The peasant's happy lot by king is envied; 
 His jewelled crown is oft a jewelled care, 
 And weighs with sorrow down. 
 
 Village Girls. 
 
 Excellent! Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Floretta . 
 
 Are 3'^ou not happy, are you not content ? 
 
 Soldier- Philosopher . 
 
 Time, place, nor circumstance contentment brings. 
 It is within us always, only we deny it to ourselves. 
 
 {Village Girls laugh in ridicule.) 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 Be advised in time. Consult a doctor; 
 Untimely taken, maladies become 
 To the best skill unmanageable. 
 
 Soldier- Philosopher. 
 Have at me, girls. Let me be food for fun. 
 
174 Jlbc Disconsolate /BbOHarcb 
 
 Floretta. 
 
 Indeed, 't is true, sir. Our ailments let run 
 Grow worse and worse. Do not the doctor shun. 
 
 (All laugh.) 
 
 Soldier- Ph ilosopher. 
 
 Will you have more ? 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 More you have not to give. 
 
 Floretta. 
 
 You are already empty ; 
 
 Empty as bottle in a toper's hand, top down. 
 
 Soldier- Ph ilosoph er. 
 Let me think. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 Give him leave to think. 
 
 Floretta. 
 
 He has our leave ; 
 
 As well our leave to leave us. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 Heaven look kindly on us, 
 
 Cut short his thoughts, and bring him 
 
 To the ending suddenly. 
 
 Soldier-Philosopher. 
 I have it. 
 
 Village Girls. 
 
 Hear, hear! 
 
Bet D. Scene 3 175 
 
 Soldier- Ph ilosopher. 
 
 Shall man of Heaven, for heavenly deeds created, 
 
 No more perform, than must the brute, 
 
 That eats and breathes by nature. 
 
 And be content ? 
 
 Ye powers above, who all serenely in the heavens sit. 
 
 And note our doings here, give, oh, give it 
 
 Unto man to do some noble deed for man, 
 
 That it may in the eye of Heaven live 
 
 And bear him grace hereafter. 
 
 ( Village Girls all laugh aloud.) 
 
 Floretta. 
 
 If this your mood is, faith, I pity you. 
 Soldiers, fare you well. Come, girls. 
 
 Soldier- Philosopher. 
 
 Here 's entertainment good, and good enough; 
 
 And better 't is that we should this enjoy 
 
 Than in expectancy to further seek, 
 
 And so, perchance, lose all. 
 
 The poor keep poor by passing trifles by 
 
 Whereon the wise grow rich. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 Our partners even now await us 
 For the dance. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 A dance ? 
 
 How say you to a little practice here ? 
 
 Rosetta. 
 I care not if we do. 
 
176 XLbe Disconsolate flbonarcb 
 
 Floretta. 
 Nor I. Are you all agreed ? 
 
 Village Girls. 
 We are, we are. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 First a song, and afterward a dance. 
 
 Rosetta. 
 
 Who shall sing it ? 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 That will I. 
 
 I will rhyme you on the words " folly " and "jolly," 
 
 With variations, the night long. 
 
 Bella. 
 Is it extempore ? 
 
 Floretta. 
 
 What 's that ? 
 
 Bella. 
 Why, sung o£E-hand. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Of course 't is; all songs and speeches 
 Are extempore that are claimed to be so. 
 
 Bella. 
 Well, begin. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 (Sings.) 
 
 Come, lads and lassies, partners choose, 
 
 And for the nonce be jolly; 
 The saddest hearts shall sadness lose ; 
 
 We '11 dance away such folly. 
 
Bet ID. Scene 3 177 
 
 {C/iorus.) 
 
 All 's folly, naught but folly, 
 Save what we do to make us jolly. 
 
 {Chorus repeated by all.) 
 
 The King did grieve his daughter gone, 
 
 He wept who once was jolly; 
 If he would turn to sunshine, storm, 
 
 He 'd dance away such folly. 
 
 (Chorus as before.) 
 
 The would-be wise, so much they know, 
 
 Look grave and melancholy; 
 But they could best their wisdom show 
 
 To dance awaj' their folly. 
 
 {Chorus as before.) 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 Now let us take advantage of brief time 
 And foot it nimbly. 
 
 Floretta. 
 Our thanks are yours. 
 Good sirs. Good-night. 
 
 (A dance.) 
 
 [Exeunt Village Girls, 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Good-night — Now all to tents 
 And get you what sleep you may. 
 To-morrow will be to us a busy day. 
 
 Enter the Duke and Carlotta lovingly.] 
 Carlo tta. 
 
 If joy there be in heaven passing mine, 
 Then— 
 
178 XLbe Disconsolate /Ibonarcb 
 
 Duke. 
 What, sweet one, then ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 I ne'er would wish for heaven. 
 
 Duke. 
 And wherefore not ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 I, then, would die of joy. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Think you there doth in heaven dwell 
 An angel sweet as thee ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Now thou gett'st above my sphere, 
 
 Besides, I like not to praise myself; 
 
 And to dispraise one's self were to solicit praise. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 The wise are modest and themselves not praise. 
 
 Modesty is the bloom 
 
 Which to the cheek of beauty 
 
 Gives perfection. 
 
 It well becomes thee, 
 
 And I would all women had been born like thee, 
 
 Then long ago had died immodesty. 
 
 I would not with an immodest woman wed, 
 
 Though she should outqueen beauty, and possess 
 
 The wealth of the world. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Whither go we now ? 
 
Bet D. Scene 3 179 
 
 Duke. 
 An hour's walk will bring us to the house 
 Wherein does dwell the sealer of our joy; 
 'T is yonder, and now I look with a more careful eye 
 I do observe it. See you those chimneys that appear 
 Above the head of yonder darkened mass ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 I do see something. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 And note you, too, the spire of the church 
 Just to the left ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Right well. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 It seems to beckon us unto that joy 
 Which there awaits us. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Heaven itself doth seem to wish us well. 
 
 For see you how benignlj'^ smiles the moon upon us. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 (Aside.) 
 
 He '11 make as good a soldier as we have; 
 
 Let 's seize him! 
 
 Sergeant. 
 Hold ! Be not too hasty. 
 
 Duke. 
 Think you will Clarissa carry well her part ? 
 
180 ^be Disconsolate /Dbonarcb 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 She is by nature fully made up for such work. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 What think you when of this their Majesties 
 Make discovery ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 What becomes it us to froth and fume, 
 When for a deed there is no remedy, 
 Except in that we give vent to a spleen 
 Which, held, were hurtful to us ? 
 
 Duke. 
 What are these, till now unnoticed ? 
 
 Carlotta. 
 These are soldiers of the King, my father's army. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Yonder 's a bank; do thou upon it sit, 
 
 While I inquire of them the nearest way. 
 
 [Exit Princess. 
 So please you, gentlemen, 
 
 Which of these two roads will sooner 
 
 Take me to the village yonder ? 
 
 Sergea7it. 
 
 (Seizing him.) 
 
 Short road nor long take you to-night. 
 
 Duke. 
 Unhand me! 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 Unhand thee, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Thou mak'st us laugh. 
 
 From this time forth thy service is the King's. 
 
Bet D. Scene 3 181 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Nay, thou had'st best be quiet, 
 
 We carry swords. 
 
 Duke, 
 
 (Breaking away.) 
 
 And so have I a sword, ye worse than cowards. 
 Corporal. 
 
 By all that 's earthly, the vagabond hath a sword, 
 And weareth, too, the habit of a lord. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 He but usurps some high authority, — follow me. 
 
 Duke. 
 And find your way to instant thirsty hell, 
 For thither will I send ye. 
 Ye base degraders of the name of soldier. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 Threats are cowards' deeds: 
 Valor unboasting strikes. 
 
 Corporal. 
 Down with him ! 
 
 Duke. 
 I do more fear a dozen cats than ye. 
 
 Corporal. 
 
 Shall we submit to this, and ne'er stir ? 
 Come on, I say! 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Have at thee, rufl&an, whosoe'er thou art. 
 
 (They fight. Soldiers issue from tents and 
 surround the Duke. Carlotta rushes in.) 
 
182 
 
 Zbc Didconeolate ^onarcb 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Have you no pity? you yourselves have loved. 
 Feel then for me who deeply am in love. 
 
 Who art thou ? 
 
 Sergeant, 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Alas, a poor unlucky wretch am I 
 Crossed in the very tide of joy ! 
 
 Thrust her off. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 Stones may have pity, but no pity, man. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 On with him ! 
 
 Princess. 
 
 Now Heaven help me, lost am I indeed ! 
 
 (The Duke is forced struggling into a tent. The 
 Princess falls fainting to the ground.) 
 
Bet m. 
 
 183 
 

 Act VI. Scene i. 
 
 The throne room in the King^s castle. Suite in attendance. 
 The King and Quee7i, crowned, standing together well for- 
 ward. A period of seven weeks is supposed to have elapsed 
 between this and preceding act. 
 
 Quee7i. 
 Once more we live, once again breathe 
 An atmosphere from foul contagion free, 
 And all the clouds that lately o'er us hung 
 Are by the glorious sun dispelled and gone; 
 Beaten, the rebels, as I hear, are fled. 
 
 King. 
 So rumor hath it, 
 
 But we the truth shall very shortly hear ; 
 Look, he comes who can relieve our fear. 
 Enter Rinaldo.l 
 
 Rinaldo. 
 All is confirmed ; 
 
 Rebellion's head is severed, and its body. 
 Reminder merely of the thing it was. 
 Lies bleaching on the plain. 
 
 Queen. 
 There let it lie for birds of prey to pick. 
 
 185 
 
186 Jibe H)i0con0olate /Ibonarcb 
 
 Rinaldo. 
 Letters, your Majesty. ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^ 
 
 The Duke himself, his business done, 
 Will presently be with you. 
 
 Quee7i. 
 Leave us. 
 
 [Exit Rinaldo. 
 (The King and Queen read and exchange letters.) 
 
 'T is brief, and writ in confirmation. 
 With such additions as, indeed, do make 
 The victory complete. 
 
 King. 
 'T is modesty itself; 
 Not to himself he takes the credit due. 
 But places it on others. 
 Modesty and brief speaking, 
 Twin virtues, to this world but little known, 
 And seldom practised; 
 Enter Bolerio.'] 
 Haply come, Rebellion's day is done. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Long may you reign in peace ! 
 
 King. 
 
 Let us the story hear, when, where, and how 
 The Duke of Combra, no allegiance owing. 
 No application making, entered the army, 
 And in one full bound the highest honors reached. 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 Bending his thoughts on love, 
 
 The Duke, disguised, was by the soldiers seized, 
 
act D1F. Scene I 187 
 
 And sent hurriedly to the front. 
 
 In brief time, — 
 
 In him perceiving a marked ability, — 
 
 Advancement followed. 
 
 At length, next to the head he stood. 
 
 And second on the list ; 
 
 The opportunity at last arrived; the General fell; 
 
 The Duke, now in command, with tactics new 
 
 And artful strategy the enemy o'erwhelmed. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Would we had daughters three, 
 
 All should be his. Who shall now assert 
 
 Fair Fortune is not with us ! 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Not one. 
 
 King. 
 
 O Fortune 's a giddy goddess, 
 
 Inconstant as the wind, or maid's affections, 
 
 Changeable as snow, which melts while it doth'Jall; 
 
 She leads us but to leave us, oft most bountiful 
 
 When least she promises. 
 
 How like is she to those delusive hopes 
 
 Which hourly centre in the hearts of man. 
 
 And come to nothing ! 
 
 Some from the cradle she accompanies 
 
 To the cold grave, wherein, all tenderly, she lays them 
 
 down 
 To their last sleep. 
 These are the few, the chosen few. 
 Who seldom feel her thorns, but scent alone 
 The perfume of her rose — her queenly favors. 
 
188 ^be BlBconeolate /Dbonaccb 
 
 Wealth to wealth she adds, 
 
 Then oft with envy frowning, takes it all, 
 
 And leaves her victim poorer than the poor. 
 
 With knowledge of the loss of what he had. 
 
 O Fortune! 
 
 Wherefore dost thou upon the poor. 
 
 The suffering poor, that most deserve of thee, 
 
 Thy coldest shoulder turn. 
 
 And modest merit all unnoticed leave. 
 
 To struggle on unknown ? 
 
 Enough of this. 
 
 The joy I feel till now hath been not, 
 
 Nor will come again. 
 
 Let us be seated, and the time beguile 
 
 With music and with dance. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 How long is it to wait ? 
 
 King. 
 
 Within the hour comes the joyous time 
 
 By her appointed, when she shall show her face. 
 
 Queen. 
 Punctilious daughter who on trifles sticks ! 
 
 King. 
 Let 's be seated. 
 Enter Clarissa.'] 
 
 Clarissa. (Disguised as Carlotla.) 
 (Aside.) 
 
 She should be here 
 
 In keeping with the note which she did send; 
 
 But yet I see her not. Oh, much I fear 
 
 What 's past is naught to that which draweth near. 
 
act D1F. Scene I 189 
 
 King. 
 Sweet, sit thee here. 
 (To Bolerio.) 
 Begin. 
 
 (Clarissa sits at foot of throne. A dance, upon ter- 
 mination of which the castle bell rings. King 
 and Queen descend throne. Clarissa arises.) 
 
 King. 
 
 The time is come, 
 
 Shine forth thy beauteous self. 
 
 (Clarissa unveils and kneels before them.) 
 By heaven, what 's this I see! Clarissa! 
 
 Queen. 
 Treachery, treachery! 
 
 King. 
 
 Where can our daughter be ? 
 Enter Carlotta.'] 
 
 Carlo tta. 
 
 Deeply repentant, here Carlotta see. 
 
 (Rushes forward and is caught in arras of the 
 King. The Queen comes forward and paces 
 angrily. Carlotta embraces Clarissa.) 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Why, what a piece of villainy is here ! 
 
 Maid and daughter both — for two long months 
 
 To be thus played upon — 
 
 Why, then my crown 's as well beneath my feet, 
 
 Since 't is become the jest of waiting-maids. 
 
 For here it serves me nothing. 
 
 (Queen continues to pace, King following.) 
 
190 ;rbe Disconeolatc ^onarcb 
 
 King. 
 
 Let us look lightly on this offence. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Hast thou all manhood lost, 
 
 That thou canst suffer this so dastard act 
 
 Against our precious persons 
 
 And ne'er wince! 
 
 King. 
 Be yourself. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Am I a Queen, or do I dream me one! 
 Farewell all quality, for I have lived 
 To be the cuffed of my messengers. 
 
 King. 
 Reason with yourself. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Oh, I could lose my blood for very rage, 
 And laugh, as from my purple veins 
 It leaves me ! 
 
 King. 
 
 What need you make yourself a laughing-stock, 
 A jester to your own Court! 
 
 Queen. 
 (To Clarissa.) 
 
 Thou scurvy trickster, base ingrate, wretch, 
 Thou bear' St the form of woman, yet art not. 
 Is this thy gratitude, this thy thanks, 
 Who, when thou wast left an infant at our gates. 
 We out of very pity took thee in, and clothed and fed 
 thee. 
 
Bet D1F. Scene 1 191 
 
 Taught thee, and did shower on thee our 
 
 Gracious favors, 
 
 As thou had' St been our daughter! 
 
 Clarissa. 
 Beseech you hear me. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Than thou, I had the devil rather hear, 
 Who knows no seeming. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 On me, your daughter, your displeasure fall; 
 
 I am alone at fault, and being alone, 
 
 Let me alone be censured. 
 
 The heaviest punishment thou canst devise 
 
 Shall be with pleasure by thy daughter borne, 
 
 So she, my maid, do suffer not for me. 
 
 Who, but for me, had never sin committed. 
 
 Quee7i. 
 
 Why, what a thing art thou in form of maid. 
 
 Who think' st to heat and cool me at thy will. 
 
 (To Clarissa.) 
 
 This thine act — said I an act ? — 
 
 Oh, villainy! — oh, villainous act! — but let me 
 
 Not wag my tongue in uselessness; 
 
 From this time forth 
 
 Thou art banished our kingdom. 
 
 King. 
 Thou art too severe. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 Good mother 
 
192 tlbe Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Attempt no more 
 
 With sweet and cunning terms to win me back, 
 For you shall find me as the granite is, 
 Yea, firm as steel. 
 
 {Carlotta and Clarissa walk toward exit.) 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Farewell forever, then, all worldly joy, 
 
 For what is banishment but living death. 
 
 To live restrained from where we most would live. 
 
 Where live our hearts, our hopes, our every thought, 
 
 Oh, torture most complete ! 
 
 Who would not rather meet the dread hereafter, 
 
 Braving the chances of those ills to come. 
 
 Than here to dwell in lifelong misery ! 
 
 Ca7'lotta. 
 
 Fear not you; when she shall cool, 
 Then will I ply her for thy reinstatement. 
 
 [They embrace. Exit Clarissa. 
 
 King. 
 
 The entertainment waits. 
 
 Come, let us unto our guests our promise keep. 
 
 Who now look wondering on. 
 
 „„ ., , ,, ,. , ^ (A7«p- and <2«<?^« ascend throne.) 
 
 What's next on the hst? ^ * ^ 
 
 Bolerio. 
 
 A dance, your Majesty. 
 
 King. 
 
 A dance or what you will. 
 
 (A dance is given.) 
 
Bet IDIT. Scene I 193 
 
 Queeti. 
 Music more sweet or more inspiriting 
 I did never hear. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 (Aside.) 
 
 The time is opportune, and now I '11 speak. 
 
 (To the Queen.) 
 
 Mother, that love most cheers 
 
 Which, being most needed, speaks to eager ears ; 
 
 So would thy love to mine. This expressed. 
 
 My happiness were crowned. 
 
 Queen. 
 Briefly speak your mind. 
 
 What would you 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 'T is of Clarissa. 
 
 Fain would I have her still my maid. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 I am not angry now, and do not speak 
 
 As one in passion, who, when she hath cooled, 
 
 Recalls what she hath said ; 
 
 Therefore take note, 
 
 That never more to me she ope her lips 
 
 In way of speech, never do look on me. 
 
 When she sees me, let her see me not, 
 
 As I shall see her not. 
 
 So help me Heaven. 
 
 [Exit Carlotta, 
 Enter Pedro.'\ 
 
 Pedro. 
 
 An old, poor man, 
 
 Infirm and weather-stained, 
 
194 Zbe Disconsolate flionarcb 
 
 As one who had travelled far, 
 Begs audience. 
 
 King. 
 
 Age and infirmity, 
 
 His poverty no less, shall give him entrance. 
 
 Treat him with kindness, sir, 
 
 We will ourselves extend a welcome hand. 
 
 Exit Pedro who re-enters with Urbanio.'\ 
 
 Urhanio. 
 My blessing on you both. 
 
 King. 
 
 And ours on you. 
 
 Pray you, be seated. Com'st thou afar ? 
 
 Some wine, Rinaldo. Prithee, sir, partake. 
 
 Urhanio. 
 
 I will and thankfully, for I have need. 
 
 I did think 
 
 The poor alone did charity dispense. 
 
 According to his means, and alone gave 
 
 A heartfelt welcome. 
 
 Exit/'<?rfro.] 
 
 King. 
 
 Who art thou ? 
 
 Urbaiiio. 
 A tool in Fortune's hand, to cut and carve with. 
 I have lived, mankind avoiding, these eighteen years. 
 In parts remote — no friend seeing, 
 Nothing hearing, of countrj'^ or of home. 
 Home, I have no home ! 
 Banished and bereft of all things dear. 
 
Bet WIT. Scene I 195 
 
 With treason charged, on accusation false, 
 Against the King — the King — ye gods, 
 Whom I did better than Urbanio love! 
 
 King. 
 
 Art thou Urbanio ? 
 Thou the banished Duke ? 
 
 Urbanio. 
 A shred of him. At further time 
 I might some trouble have to know myself. 
 
 King. 
 
 Timely come; vainly we have sought thee 
 For many years, to set thee right 
 In fortune and in name. Thine accuser. 
 Conscience-stricken, himself did kill. 
 
 Urbanio. 
 
 Fortune, good and bad, doth ever come 
 In groups and galloping. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 The injury we have done thee 
 
 We will at once repair; thy title and estates, 
 
 And all thereto belonging, 
 
 Are again thine. 
 
 Urbanio. 
 Heaven bless thee ! 
 My wife, at thought of banishment, 
 Sickened and died, and left 
 An infant, whose tender years 
 Did fit it not for travel. It was placed 
 At the palace gates. 
 
196 a;bc Disconsolate ^onarcb 
 
 King. 
 A daughter ? 
 Urbanio. 
 All that was left to me in the world. 
 With her was placed a paper, thereon writ; 
 "Blessed be 
 
 They who receive and care for me, 
 I am of gentle birth," 
 Enter Carlotta and Clarissa, each dressed in her proper raiment.] 
 
 King. 
 
 The very same, thy daughter lives, 
 
 And 3^onder comes. Clarissa, 
 
 This is thy father. He will tell thee all. 
 
 {Urbanio and Clarissa embrace.) 
 
 Urbanio. 
 If now to die 
 
 Were now to be absolved of all my sin, 
 Now could I wish to die. 
 Now to pass hence to immortality. 
 {Urbanio and Clarissa come forward and converse. 
 
 A flourish of trumpets without. Enter Pedro ^ 
 
 Pedro. 
 The Duke of Combra. 
 Enter the Duke, who is met by Carlotta, whom he embraces.] 
 
 King. 
 A thousand welcomes, my Lord. 
 
 Queen. 
 We give you hearty greeting, 
 And are much bound in love and gratitude; 
 Our hearts, henceforth, are yours. 
 
act 1D1T. Scene I 197 
 
 Duke. 
 Speak not of that. 
 
 King. 
 
 All that we have, or shall possess, 
 Equally with ourselves you shall enjoy, 
 As it alone were yours. 
 
 Diike. 
 
 Our hearts as one, consent our hands to join, 
 That I in gratitude may you outweigh, 
 And still remain your debtor. 
 
 King. 
 
 Heaven give you joy of her! 
 
 Ere you did come, my Lord, of you did come 
 
 Many a good report, of you, your lineage, and 'true 
 
 descent. 
 But this were needless ; 
 
 You might yourself have borne the good report 
 In your own person hither, 
 For who can look thy face and form upon, 
 And not in very verity proclaim 
 Thee nobly born ? 
 
 Duke. 
 Most royal sir. 
 
 King. 
 
 The mood is now upon me, let me speak. 
 Thy father was a man of noble mien, 
 So kingly, yet so kind, even to the humblest; 
 Beloved of all his people, who, when he went 
 Among them, did disdain not to take each 
 Proffered hand 
 
198 XLbc Disconsolate /nbonarcb 
 
 As it had been his equal. 
 
 The sick he cared for, and in person sought 
 
 Where good might most be done. 
 
 In thee I see his cop)^ whose remembrance 
 
 Gives thee a heartier welcome. 
 
 Duke. 
 What shall I say in thanks ? 
 
 King. 
 My Lord Fredrico hearing of your coming, 
 Hath importuned me to request of you 
 A friendly contest with him at fence, 
 Wherein he credits to himself much skill, 
 And, as he hears, you are yourself well versed 
 In like regard. I make this known 
 In keeping only of a promise made. 
 
 Duke. 
 To what end is this ? 
 Suggests he no reason for it ? 
 
 King. 
 
 To season with variety, and add 
 A spice to the coming festivities. 
 
 Queen. 
 So he says, my Lord. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 'T is reason good enough. 
 
 King. 
 
 That is his plea, 
 
 His purpose only he himself doth know, 
 
 And no man else. 
 
act Dir. Scene I 199 
 
 Queen. 
 What hidden motive, born of jealousy, 
 May underlie his wish, we cannot now divine. 
 But at your sword's length keep him; 
 Hold him ofiF, and watch him with a very wary eye. 
 
 Duke, 
 
 Was not he the one-time suitor 
 For the hand of the Princess ? 
 
 King. 
 The same. 
 
 He yet doth think his chances therein good ; 
 Let it appear so to the end, whose suddenness 
 Shall all the more affect him ; for reasons 
 Which I hereafter will relate, 
 I more and more detest him. 
 
 Duke. 
 I like it well and am ready, 
 Even upon the instant, 
 To make trial of it. 
 
 King. 
 But where is my Lord, 
 The suitor to the hand of our fair daughter ? 
 
 Bolerio. 
 Not yet come. 
 
 King. 
 
 Then love goes limping, and is colder grown 
 Than was his wont. 
 
 Why, I remember, when myself a youth, 
 A stripling then, ay, scarcely in my teens. 
 The thought of love did so inspire my blood 
 
200 XLbe Dlsconeolatc /Bbonarcb 
 
 That like a mighty river, bursting bounds, 
 
 'T would rush my veins thro', 
 
 Making my heart to throb, my head to turn, 
 
 Myself to lose myself. But let it pass. 
 
 We who are old shall feel the spark no more, 
 
 And yield unwillingly our places up 
 
 To nimbler spirits, who in turn, like we. 
 
 Must yield them too, to those who after come. 
 
 (The Duke and Carlotta come forward and 
 
 converse. Enter Fredrico.) 
 
 Welcome, my Lord. 
 
 You have o'erstayed the time, but what of that? 
 
 Our daughter is not gone in years so far 
 
 That an odd hour or two can make her 
 
 The worse for it. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Necessity 
 
 King. 
 
 Necessity is father to us all 
 
 And will command us, whether we will or no, 
 
 In all save love affairs. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Your Majesty is merry. 
 
 King. 
 
 So should he be who comes to win 
 The hand of so fair maid. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Who is he, your Majesty, 
 Whispering the Princess ? 
 
Bet 1311. Scene I 201 
 
 King. 
 
 One, sir, who seeing Father Time 
 Ahead of him, o'ertook him, outran him, 
 And has come before hira. 
 My Lord of Combra. 
 
 Duke. 
 Your pardons all — 
 
 With such attraction, King Solomon himself 
 Had lost his wisdom. Sir, your hand; 
 I wish you well, although to do so 
 Were to wish, indeed, some evil 'gainst myself. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 How may that be, my Lord ? 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Why, we are two, and one of us, but one, 
 Can hope to win it. 
 
 Fredrico, 
 Speak you of the bout ? 
 
 Duke. 
 Ay, the bout. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 I shall do my best to win it 
 For her sweet sake. 
 
 Duke. 
 I blame you not ; 
 
 A fairer, worthier lady never lived 
 Since first in Eden's Garden Eve did come 
 To breed contention in the envious eye 
 Of woman-loving man. 
 
303 Zbc Disconsolate /Ibonaccb 
 
 Fredrico. 
 But come, 
 
 No lover true did ever wait on time. 
 
 Duke. 
 At your service, sir. 
 
 {King and Queen seated on the throne. Carlotta at foot of 
 throne. Duke and Fredrico salute throne and commence.) 
 
 Fredrico. 
 How like you my quality ? 
 
 Duke. 
 It tastes well. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 A bitter taste, methinks. 
 
 Duke, 
 Something that way. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 I am he will wind you, my Lord. 
 
 Duke. 
 Think you so? What, so soon! 
 Where is your mettle now ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 I am still for you. 
 
 (Fredrico is disarmed ; a flourish of trumpets. Duke and Car- 
 lotta embrace. King descends throne.) 
 
 Queen. 
 Well done, well won ! 
 
 King. 
 
 As freely she, as freely we 
 
 Do give her hand to thee. 
 
 And may you ever live as you have loved. 
 
 Inseparably. 
 
Bet Dir. Scene I 303 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Hold! hold! 
 
 King. 
 What 's the matter ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 To hell with jugglery 
 
 That one day gives: and takes it away the next, 
 
 Plays shuttlecock with hope 
 
 And man's afifection, and makes 
 
 Angel or devil of him ! 
 
 Am I an ass ? Must I endure all this, 
 
 And bray not ? No protest make ? 
 
 Submit submissively unto a wrong 
 
 Which cries aloud for vengeance ? 
 
 King. 
 Vengeance! 
 
 Queen. 
 
 You go beyond the limit ; 
 Restrain your tongue; 
 Your words comport not with 
 Our presence, sir. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Have I not cause, good Madam ? 
 
 What of my claim, what, I pray, of that ? 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Make good your claim. 
 If any claim you have. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Did I not have your voices her to woo ? 
 Did I not have your voices her to win ? 
 
304 CTbe Disconsolate /Hbonarcb 
 
 Win her I did, by her own voice declared, 
 And having won her, mine 's the right to wed. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Consent of mine, my lyord, you never had. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Why, you yourself did give your heart to me. 
 And with this ring did seal it. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 That ring, my Lord, did ne'er belong to me. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 L/Ord ! O Heaven ! Do I stand here ? 
 Or do I dream ? Veiled, 
 
 You gave it me, and vowed 
 You would alone be mine. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 Let 's see the ring; 't was mine; 
 
 1 gave it thee, and this was yours. 
 Which you did give to me. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Thee! 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 The story 's good, we '11 tell it thee anon. 
 Will you wed with me, my Lord ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Any woman else. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 As you like, my Lord. 
 
act lD1f. Scene I 205 
 
 Fredrico. 
 (Throwing ring to floor.) 
 Here, take your ring : the devil and you go with it. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 (Throwing ring to floor.) 
 
 And here is yours, the self-same way delivered. 
 Run you, and find it, 
 "It is with diamonds set, and jewels rare. 
 An antique ring, and sweet in memory 
 Of one dear soul departed." 
 Do not lose it, my Lord. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 I would not wed with you 
 Were you of womankind 
 The very last. 
 
 Clarissa. 
 
 One alone makes not a match, my lord. 
 
 {Fredrico comes well forward.) 
 
 Fredrico. 
 (Aside.) 
 
 Shall I submit to this, meekly 
 
 And bend low in servile attitude 
 
 The suppliant knee, or be the man I am ? 
 
 Let him who favors seek, let him do that; 
 
 With me, all now is done, and I am left 
 
 But my revenge to get. Revenge which 
 
 Sweeter is than all things else in the world. 
 
 He fences well, and killed the chance to wing him, 
 
 As 't were by accident, which I had sought. 
 
 I '11 play the coward then, 
 
 Prick him from behind, and send him 
 
306 XLbc Disconsolate /Bbonarcb 
 
 To his accounting suddenly. 
 
 About it then, while yet my purpose hold, 
 
 And hell be mine if I, in this, grow cold. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 He broods some mischief. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 Do not fear. Who mischief means 
 Forewarns not him 't is meant for. 
 
 {Fredrico goes to rear.) 
 Queen. 
 
 I long to hear, so do we all, 
 
 From thine own lips, in detail, all that may relate, 
 
 Or touch upon, thy doings 'gainst the enemy 
 
 Since you the army entered — which time, disguised, 
 
 Carlotta with the holy friars stayed 
 
 And watched events, listening no reverent teaching 
 
 As I fear, but deep immured in love. 
 
 Carlotta. 
 
 Prithee, tellit; 
 That do I long to hear. 
 
 Duke. 
 
 To Heaven, not to us, belongs the victory; 
 We but the instruments here to fulfill 
 His will divine. Thus, then, begins my story. 
 Thus must it end, in praises unto God. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Henceforth, my duty first shall be 
 To heaven. 
 
Bet D1[. Scene I 207 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Happy as a boy at Christmastide, 
 
 Or from his books, 
 
 Will I as freely mingle in the joy 
 
 Which all here feel to-night. 
 
 To each and all, 
 
 Their heart's content of pleasure — 
 
 (To Queen.) 
 
 So will I turn the point of envy from me, 
 
 Which, were I now to leave, it would be said 
 
 That I was filled withal. Envy ! 
 
 Which now before heaven, I do disavow 
 
 As any part of me. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Stay you our feast, Fredrico, 
 
 How much I like you, you will ere long know 
 
 Beside, I have a speech — 
 
 Which must be spoken ere you do depart — 
 
 Will send you smiling home. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 I shall be pleased to hear. 
 
 (To the Duke.) 
 
 To you, my lord, 
 
 And to my lady, here, I do extend 
 
 The hand of fellowship. Thus ends all strife. 
 
 I, my lord, have lost; you, won a noble wife. 
 
 Heaven give you joy. 
 
 Duke. 
 My heartiest thanks. 
 
208 Zbe Disconsolate /Dbonarcb 
 
 A month ago or more, you were much concerned 
 About a letter which you then had lost 
 And could not find. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 A poem you said it was, writ in prose. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 I do remember. 
 
 King. 
 
 Indited to our daughter, was it not ? 
 And your dear love for her ? 
 I think you said so. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 A bootless effort now that she is lost. 
 
 King. 
 
 And you did never find it ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Never. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Look upon it now, unsealed as found — 
 
 Now look upon yourself — within yourself 
 
 Go gaze in yonder glass, that you may know 
 
 A villain when you see one, 
 
 A worthless picture, framed around with gold 
 
 A bed of violets, you the snake beneath 
 
 Bring Time forth whom he may 
 
 He can but hope to match, not exceed you 
 
 In parts most vile, which lacking, 
 
Hct DH. Scene I 209 
 
 Most do make the perfect man 
 What answer make you this ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 I am as heaven made me, 
 Let heaven answer it. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 So will it, and in such a kind, 
 It shall go hard with you. 
 
 King. 
 
 It is the way of the world evermore to place 
 
 The blame on others, which to ourselves belong 
 
 For evil actions done, 
 
 And when we can no refutation make. 
 
 We heinously assign the offence to heaven 
 
 Thus adding sin to sin. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 So please you, I humbly take my leave. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 The play is but begun ; I pray you, stay 
 The final scene; therein shall you see 
 Knavery o'ermastered, and the Knave 
 Silenced and fallen in his misery. 
 It were a sight, believe me, worth the waiting. 
 Come, being honest, you shall sleep the better. 
 Seeing it. 
 
310 ^be Disconsolate /iRonarcb 
 
 Fredrico. 
 I am not well, good Madam, give me leave. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Well then, to the business at once, 
 
 So shall you sooner go. Knew you Bertuccio ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 Bertuccio, Madam ? 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Bertuccio, happily now dead. 
 
 The cause and the continuance of the strife 
 
 Which late our realm did shake. 
 
 Knew not you him ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 But as a traitor. Madam, one who well deserved 
 The fate he met. 
 
 King. 
 
 And you did never speak with, 
 Nor did write him ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Were he alive, and now in presence. 
 
 By heaven, I swear, I would not know the man, 
 
 From previous knowledge or acquaintance with him. 
 
 King. 
 
 'T is put upon us, and with much show of reason — 
 On information even but now received. 
 
act vs. Scene I 211 
 
 Or you had ere this heard it — that you, Fredrico, 
 
 Your allegiance scorning, and with no thought 
 
 Of that dear love we bore you, 
 
 Did wilfully and wickedly conspire. 
 
 Against our peace, our Kingdom, and our crown. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 False to my allegiance ? False to you ? 
 
 Queen. 
 Can you deny it ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 I do deny, and will with sword maintain it, 
 
 'Gainst any man that lives. That I have enemies — 
 
 As all men have — I do well believe, 
 
 Yet, who of all of them, but only he, 
 
 Bertuccio, now dead, were he my enemy 
 
 Would, living, charge me false. 
 
 Bertuccio is dead. 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Heaven so wills, the sense of safety oft the wicked feel, 
 Is oft the means whereby themselves they doom, 
 And are drawn to their own ends. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 
 Where ? When ? With whom did I conspire ? 
 
 Oh tell me that ! 
 
 That I may from your minds the suspicion cast 
 
 Which now weighs heavy there. My L,iege and 
 
 Madam, 
 What I am, I am, but that, I am not. 
 
312 XLbe Disconsolate flbonarcb 
 
 /Czng. 
 
 That you are what you are, it is our special wonder, 
 For never monarch for a subject showed 
 A like regard. Even as a brother we did plant you 
 Within our bosom's bosom, where love did cherish 
 
 hope 
 That you might grow and blossom forth 
 To manhood's perfect flower. 
 I shall not build again on any man. 
 Since you have failed us so. 
 
 Quee?i. 
 
 Know you this letter to Bertuccio writ ? 
 And on his person found ? 
 
 Fredrico. 
 (Aside.) 
 
 Death and damnation ! 
 
 Queen. 
 
 Is it not your hand? your seal? 
 
 Can you now deny. 
 
 The aid and comfort covertly conveyed 
 
 Which here you name ? 
 
 Look, Sirrah, on these lines, Look, Look, I say, 
 
 " Destroy at once this letter," and " Heaven prosper 
 
 you." 
 Is it not well said ? O heaven ! 
 Had you the semblance of a conscience left 
 'T would sting you to the grave, and hide you there, 
 A thing unfit for eyes to look upon. 
 
act \Dir. Scene t 213 
 
 King. 
 
 Bertuccio was a man. Open and honest, 
 What fancied wrong he had, alas! I know not, 
 Only this I know, that you had none, but only love. 
 Which should have rather held you still our friend. 
 And firmly kept you so. 
 
 Queen, 
 
 Three days wp grant you ; 
 If any time thereafter you are found 
 Within our Kingdom, your life is forfeit, 
 Your title and estates we do bestow 
 Upon the Duke of Combra, and our Son. 
 
 Fredrico. 
 (Aside.) 
 
 Or now or never, 
 
 Weapon do thy worst. 
 
 {Fredrico makes a thrust at the Duke from behind, but is inter- 
 cepted by Bolerio, who strikes down his sword. Fredrico 
 receives the thrust of the Duke, and falling, is caught and 
 upheld in the arms of a Courtier.) 
 
 Curses upon you all — I 'm done for — 
 Not so — my sword — strength have I yet — 
 What mockery 's this — hence — hence I say — 
 Water — clutch me not at the throat — water — 
 Let go I say — I die — die — Hell 
 
 Duke. 
 
 He is rightly served 
 Who meets the death 
 By him for others fixed. 
 
214 XLbc Disconsolate /Dbonarcb 
 
 Queen. 
 
 O Retribution, thou art swift afoot, 
 And follow' St fast the deed. 
 
 ' Would this had not have been — 
 
 It ill beseems, with this, a scene of death, 
 
 To mingle merriment. A marriage feast 
 
 Should nothing have of strife, and Heaven fore-fend 
 
 It presage not some evil yet at hand. 
 
 Our passions we 
 'Gainst our own good oppose, and so did he; 
 And here he lies — what he was we know, 
 But know not what it was that made him so. 
 Heaven be his judge. 
 
 Qtieen. 
 
 Heaven made us, we ourselves do mar. 
 Remove the body to the inner chamber; 
 His death 's upon himself. 
 At other time, with all due form, 
 According to our church's ritual, 
 This match we '11 solemnize. 
 
 King. 
 
 Come, to the banquet hall ; 
 There awaits us a feast you dream not of. 
 We will of music have a merry strain, 
 Such as from men their angry natures turn 
 To mirth. 
 
Bet IDA. Scene I 
 
 215 
 
 Go you without, and to my subjects say 
 
 The King proclaims a general holiday. 
 
 Sweet, lead the way. 
 
 Ourselves will follow fast ; 
 
 Carlotta and the Duke are one at last. 
 
 End. 
 
 (Music.) 
 
THE DISCONSOLATE MONARCH 
 
 By 
 
 EVERARD ROBERTS 
 
 Ipnvatcl? ipiintcti, mc»v lljoih, 1003 
 
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