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Nay, some, my gentle ladies, true it is,
The very worst and fellest of the crew,
In fair alluring shape of beauteous dames,
Do such a barrier form to oppose their way
As few men may o'ercome.

Isab. From this last wicked foe should we infer Yourself have suffer'd much?

Albin. No, Isabella, these are common words, To please you with false notions of your power. So all men talk of ladies and of love.

Vict. "Tis even so. If love a tyrant be,
How dare his humble chained votaries

To tell such rude and wicked tales of him?
Bas. Because they most of lover's ills complain
Who but affect it as a courtly grace,
Whilst he who feels is silent.

Bas. (aside, looking after them.) O! what a fool am I! where fled my thoughts?

I might as well as he, now, by her side,
Have held her precious hand enclosed in mine;
As well as he, who cares not for it neither.
O but he does! that were impossible!
Albin. You stay behind, my lord.

Bas. Your pardon, madam; honour me so far-
[EXEUNT, handing out Albini.

SCENE II.-A GALLERY HUNG WITH PICTURES. VICTORIA discovered in conversation with ROSINBERG, BASIL, ALBINI, and ISABELLA.

Vict. (to Ros.) It is indeed a work of wondrous

art.

Ros. But there you wrong me; I have felt it oft. (To Isab.) You call'd Francisco here?

Oft has it made me sigh at ladies' fee

Soft ditties sing, and dismal sonnets scrawl.

Albin. In all its strange effects, most worthy

Rosinberg,

Has it e'er made thee in a corner sit,

Sad, lonely, moping sit, and hold thy tongue?
Ros. No, 'faith, it never has.

Albin. Ha, ha, ha, ha! then thou hast never loved.

Ros. Nay, but I have, and felt love's bondage too. Vict. Fy! it is pedantry to call it bondage! Love-marring wisdom, reason full of bars, Deserve, methinks, that appellation more. Is it not so, my lord?-(To Basil.)

Bas. O surely, madam! That is not bondage which the soul inthrall'd So gladly bears, and quits not but with anguish. Stern honour's laws, the fair report of men, These are the fetters that enchain the mind, But such as must not, cannot be unloosed. Vict. No, not unloosed, but yet one day relax'd, To grant a lady's suit, unused to sue.

Ros. Your highness deals severely with us now, And proves indeed our freedom is but small, Who are constrain'd when such a lady sues, To say, It cannot be.

Vict. It cannot be! Count Basil says not so. Ros. For that I am his friend, to save him pain I take th' ungracious office on myself.

Vict. How ill thy face is suited to thine office! Ros. (smiling.) Would I could suit mine office

to my face,

If that would please your highness.

Vict. No, you are obstinate and perverse all, And would not grant it if you had the power. Albini, I'll retire; come, Isabella.

Isab.

He comes even now.

Enter ATTENDANT.

Vict. (to Ros.) He will conduct you to the northern gallery;

Its striking shades will call upon the eye, To point its place there needs no other guide. [EXEUNT Ros. and Attendant. (To Bas.) Loves not Count Basil too this charming art?

It is in ancient painting much admired.

Bas. Ah! do not banish me these few short mo

ments:

Too soon they will be gone! for ever gone!
Vict. If they are precious to you, say not so,
But add to them another precious day.
A lady asks it.

Bas. Ah, madam! ask the life-blood from my heart!

Ask all but what a soldier may not give.

Vict. "Tis ever thus when favours are denied ; All had been granted but the thing we beg; And still some great unlikely substitute, Your life, your soul, your all of earthly good, Is proffer'd in the room of one small boon. So keep your life-blood, generous, valiant lord, And may it long your noble heart enrich, Until I wish it shed. (Bas. attempts to speak.) Nay frame no new excuse;

I will not hear it.

(She puts out her hand as if she would shut his mouth, but at a distance from it; Bas. runs eagerly up to her, and presses it to his lips.)

Bas. Let this sweet hand indeed its threat perform,

And make it heaven to be for ever dumb!

Bas. (aside to Ros.) Ah, Rosinberg! thou hast (Vict. looks stately and offended.—Basil kneels.)

too far presumed;

She is offended with us.

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Vict. (pointing to a door leading to other apart-Who has so oft my earnest suit denied
ments, by which she is ready to go out.)
These are apartments strangers love to see:
Some famous paintings do their walls adorn:
They lead you also to the palace court
As quickly as the way by which you came.
[EXIT Vict. led out by Ros. and followed
by Isab.

Bas. By heaven I'll grant it! I'll do any thing:
Say but thou art no more offended with me.
Vict. (raising him.) Well, Basii, this good pro-
mise is thy pardon.

I will not wait your noble friend's return,
Since we shall meet again.—
You will perform your word?

Bas. I will perform it.

Vict. Farewell, my lord.

[EXIT, with her ladies. Bas. (alone.) "Farewell, my lord." O! what delightful sweetness!

The music of that voice dwells on the ear!

Gaur. But does the princess know your secret aim?

Duke. No, that had marr'd the whole; she is a
woman;

Her mind, as suits the sex, too weak and narrow
To relish deep-laid schemes of policy.

"Farewell, my lord!"-Ay, and then look'd she Besides, so far unlike a child of mine,

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The slightest glance of her bewitching eye,
Those dark blue eyes, commands the inmost soul.
Well, there is yet one day of life before me,
And, whatsoe'er betide, I will enjoy it.
Though but a partial sunshine in my lot,
I will converse with her, gaze on her still,
If all behind were pain and misery.
Pain! Were it not the easing of all pain,
E'en in the dismal gloom of after-years,
Such dear remembrance on the mind to wear
Like silvery moonbeams on the 'nighted deep,
When heaven's blest sun is gone?

Kind mercy! how my heart within me beat
When she so sweetly plead the cause of love!
Can she have loved? why shrink I at the thought?
Why should she not! no, no, it cannot be
No man on earth is worthy of her love.
Ah! if she could, how blest a man were he!
Where rove my giddy thoughts? it must not be.
Yet might she well some gentle kindness bear;
Think of him oft, his absent fate inquire,
And, should he fall in battle, mourn his fall.
Yes, she would mourn-such love might she bestow;
And poor of soul the man who would exchange it
For warmest love of the most loving dame!
But here comes Rosinberg-have I done well?
He will not say I have.

Enter ROSINberg.

Ros. Where is the princess?

I'm sorry I return'd not ere she went.

Bas. You'll see her still.
Ros.

What, comes she forth again?

Bas. She does to-morrow.
Ros.

Thou hast yielded then.
Bas. Come, Rosinberg, I'll tell thee as we go ;
It was impossible I should not yield.

Ros. O Basil! thou art weaker than a child.
Bas. Yes, yes, my friend, but 'tis a noble weak-

ness;

A weakness which hath greater things achieved
Than all the firm determined strength of reason.
By heaven! I feel a new-born power within me,
Shall make me twenty-fold the man I've been
Before this fated day.

Ros. Fated, indeed! but an ill-fated day,
That makes thee other than thy former self.
Yet let it work its will; it cannot change thee
To aught I shall not love.

Bas. Thanks, Rosinberg! thou art a noble heart!
I would not be the man thou couldst not love
For an imperial crown.

[EXEUNT.

SCENE III.-A SMALL APARTMENT IN THE PALACE.

Enter DUKE and GAURIECIO.

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The deep and piercing genius of your highness,
So ably served, might e'en achieve the empire.
Duke. No, no, my friend, thou dost o'erprize my
parts;

Yet mighty things might be-deep subtle wits

In truth, are master spirits in the world.
The brave man's courage, and the student's lore,
Are but as tools his secret ends to work,
Who hath the skill to use them.

This brave Count Basil, dost thou know him well?
Much have we gain'd, but for a single day,
At such a time, to hold his troops detain'd;
When, by that secret message of our spy,
The rival powers are on the brink of action:
But might we more effect? Knowest thou this
Basil ?

Might he be tamper'd with?

Gaur.
That were most dangerous.-
He is a man, whose sense of right and wrong
To such a high romantic pitch is wound,
And all so hot and fiery is his nature,
The slightest hint, as though you did suppose
Baseness and treachery in him, so he'll deem it,
Would be to rouse a flame that might destroy.
Duke. But interest, interest; man's all-ruling

power,

Will tame the hottest spirit to your service,
And skilfully applied, mean service too;
E'en as there is an element in nature
Which, when subdued, will on your hearth fulfil
The lowest uses of domestic wants.

Gaur. Earth-kindled fire, which from a little
spark,

On hidden fuel feeds his growing strength,
Till o'er the lofty fabric it inspires
And rages out its power, may be subdued,
And in your base domestic service bound;
But who would madly in its wild career
The fire of heaven arrest to boil his pot?
No, Basil will not serve your secret schemes,
Though you had all to give ambition strives for
We must beware of him.

Duke. His father was my friend,-I wish'd to
gain him:

But since fantastic fancies bind him thus,
The sin be on his head; I stand acquitted,
And must receive him, even to his ruin.

Gaur. I have prepared Bernardo for your service;
To-night he will depart for th' Austrian camp,

Duke. The point is gain'd; my daughter is And should he find them on the eve of battle,

successful;

And Basil is detain'd another day.

I've bid him wait the issue of the field.
If that our secret friends victorious prove,

With th' arrow's speed he will return again;
But should fair fortune crown Piscaro's arms,
Then shall your soothing message greet his ears;
For till our friends some sound advantage gain,
Our actions still must wear an Austrian face.

Duke. Well hast thou school'd him. Didst thou
add withal,

That 'tis my will he garnish well his speech,
With boney'd words of the most dear regard,
And friendly love I bear him? This is needful;
And lest my slowness in the promised aid
Awake suspicion, bid him e'en rehearse
The many favours on my house bestow'd
By his imperial master as a theme
On which my gratitude delights to dwell.
Gaur. I have, an' please your highness.
Duke.

Then 'tis well.
Gaur. But for the yielding up that little fort
There could be no suspicion.

Duke. My governor I have severely punish'd,
As a most daring traitor to my orders.
He cannot from his darksome dungeon tell;
Why then should they suspect?

And to encourage well their infant trade,
Quarter'd your troops upon them.-Please your
grace,

All this they do most readily allow.

Duke. They do allow it then, ungrateful varlets!
What would they have? what would they have,
Gauriecio!

Gaur. Some mitigation of their grievous burdens,
Which, like an iron weight around their necks,
Do bend their care-worn faces to the earth,
Like creatures form'd upon its soil to creep,
Not stand erect, and view the sun of heaven.

Duke. But they beyond their proper sphere would
rise;

Let them their lot fulfil as we do ours.

Society of various parts is form'd;

They are its grounds, its mud, its sediment,

And we the mantling top which crowns the whole.
Calm, steady labour is their greatest bliss ;
To aim at higher things beseems them not.
To let them work in peace my care shall be ;
To slacken labour is to nourish pride.
Methinks thou art a pleader for these fools:

Gaur. He must not live should Charles prove What may this mean, Gauriecio?

victorious.

Duke. He's done me service: say not so, Gau

riecio.

Gaur. They were resolved to lay their cause before you,

And would have found some other advocate

Gaur. A traitor's name he will not calmly bear; Less pleasing to your grace had I refused. He'll tell his tale aloud-he must not live.

Duke. Well, if it must-we'll talk of this again.
Gaur. But while with anxious care and crafty
wiles,

You would enlarge the limits of your state,
Your highness must beware lest inward broils
Bring danger near at hand: your northern subjects
E'en now are discontented and unquiet.

Duke. Well, let them know, some more conve-
nient season

I'll think of this, and do for them as much
As suits the honour of my princely state.
Their prince's honour should be ever dear
To worthy subjects as their precious lives.

Gaur. I fear, unless you give some special
promise,

Duke. What, dare the ungrateful miscreants thus They will be violent still

return

The many favours of my princely grace?
"Tis ever thus indulgence spoils the base;
Raising up pride, and lawless turbulence,
Like noxious vapours from the fulsome marsh
When morning shines upon it.—

Did I not lately with parental care,
When dire invaders their destruction threaten'd,
Provide them all with means of their defence ?
Did I not, as a mark of gracious trust,
A body of their vagrant youth select
To guard my sacred person? till that day
An honour never yet allowed their race.
Did I not suffer them, upon their suit,
T'establish manufactures in their towns?
And after all some chosen soldiers spare
To guard the blessings of interior peace?

Duke. Then do it, if the wretches are so bold :
We can retract it when the times allow ;
'Tis of small consequence. Go see Bernardo,
And come to me again.

[EXIT.

Gaur. (solus) O happy people! whose indulgent

lord

From every care, with which increasing wealth,
With all its hopes and fears, doth ever move
The human breast, most graciously would free
And kindly leave you naught to do but toil!
This creature now, with all his reptile cunning,
Writhing and turning through a maze of wiles,
Believes his genius form'd to rule mankind;
And calls his sordid wish for territory
That noblest passion of the soul, ambition.
Born had he been to follow some low trade,
A petty tradesman still he had remain❜d,

Gaur. Nay, please your highness, they do well And used the art with which he rules a state

allow,

That when your enemies in fell revenge
Your former inroads threaten'd to repay,
Their ancient arms you did to them restore,
With kind permission to defend themselves:
That so far have they felt your princely grace,
In drafting from their fields their goodliest youth
To be your servants: That you did vouchsafe,
On paying of a large and heavy fine,
Leave to apply the labour of their hands
As best might profit to the country's weal:

To circumvent his brothers of the craft,
Or cheat the buyers of his paltry ware.
And yet he thinks,-ha, ha, ha, ha!-he thinks

I am the tool and servant of his will.

Well, let it be; through all the maze of trouble
His plots and base oppression must create,
I'll shape myself a way to higher things:
And who will say 'tis wrong?

A sordid being, who expects no faith

But as self-interest binds; who would not trust
The strongest ties of nature on the soul,

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Deserves no faithful service. Perverse fate!
Were I like him, I would despise this dealing;
But being as I am, born low in fortune,
Yet with a mind aspiring to be great,

I must not scorn the steps which lead to it:
And if they are not right, no saint am I;
I follow nature's passion in my breast,
Which urges me to rise in spite of fortune.

[EXIT.

SCENE IV. AN APARTMENT IN THE PALACE.
VICTORIA and ISABELLA are discovered playing at chess;
the Countess ALBINI sitting by them reading to herself.
Vict. Away with it, I will not play again.
May men no more be foolish in my presence
If thou art not a cheat, an arrant cheat!

Isab. To swear that I am false by such an oath,
Should prove me honest, since its forfeiture
Would bring your highness gain.

Vict. Am I ungenerous then?
Alb.

Yes, most ungenerous:

Who, for the pleasure of a little power,
Would give most unavailing pain to those,
Whose love you ne'er can recompense again.
E'en now, to-day, O! was it not ungenerous
To fetter Basil with a foolish tie,
Against his will, perhaps against his duty?

Vict. What, dost thou think against his will, my
friend?

Alb. Full sure I am against his reason's will.
Vict. Ah! but indeed thou must excuse me here;
For duller than a shelled crab was she,

Who could suspect her power in such a mind,
And calmly leave it doubtful and unproved.
But wherefore dost thou look so gravely on me?
Ah! well I read those looks! methinks they say,
"Your mother did not so."

Alb. Your highness reads them true, she did not so.

Vict. Thou'rt wrong, my Isabella, simple maid; If foolish vanity e'er soil'd her thoughts,
For in the very forfeit of this oath,

There's death to all the dearest pride of women.
May man no more be foolish in my presence!
Isab. And does your grace, hail'd by applauding
crowds,

In all the graceful eloquence address'd
Of most accomplish'd, noble, courtly youths,
Praised in the songs of heaven-inspired bards,
Those awkward proofs of admiration prize,
Which rustic swains their village fair ones pay!
Vict. O, love will master all the power of art!
Ay, all! and she who never has beheld
The polish'd courtier, or the tuneful sage,
Before the glances of her conquering eye
A very native simple swain become,
Has only vulgar charms.

To make the cunning artless, tame the rude,
Subdue the haughty, shake th' undaunted soul;
Yea, put a bridle in the lion's mouth,
And lead him forth as a domestic cur,
These are the triumphs of all-powerful beauty!
Did naught but flattering words and tuneful praise,
Sighs, tender glances, and obsequious service,
Attend her presence, it were nothing worth:
I'd put a white coif o'er my braided locks,
And be a plain, good, simple, fireside dame.

Alb. (raisig her head from her book.) And is,
indeed, a plain domestic dame,

Who fills the duties of a useful state,

A being of less dignity than she,
Who vainly on her transient beauty builds
A little poor ideal tyranny?

Isab. Ideal too!
Alb.
Yes, most unreal power;
For she who only finds her self-esteem
In others' admiration, begs an alms;
Depends on others for her daily food,
And is the very servant of her slaves;
Though oftentimes, in a fantastic hour,
O'er men she may a childish power exert,
Which not ennobles, but degrades her state.
Vict. You are severe, Albini, most severe !
Were human passions placed within the breast
But to be curb'd, subdued, pluck'd by the roots!
All heaven's gifts to some good end were given.
Alb. Yes, for a noble, for a generous end.

She kept it low, withheld its aliment;
Not pamper'd it with every motley food,
From the fond tribute of a noble heart
To the lisp'd flattery of a cunning child.
Vict. Nay, speak not thus,-Albini, speak not
thus

Of little blue-eyed, sweet, fair-hair'd Mirando.
He is the orphan of a hapless pair;
A loving, beautiful, but hapless pair,
Whose story is so pleasing, and so sad,
The swains have turn'd it to a plaintive lay,
And sing it as they tend their mountain sheep.
Besides, (to Isab.) I am the guardian of his choice.
When first I saw him-dost thou not remember?
Isab. 'Twas in the public garden.
Vict.
Even so;
Perch'd in his nurse's arms, a roughsome quean,
Ill suited to the lovely charge she bore.
How steadfastly he fixed his looks upon me,
His dark eyes shining through forgotten tears,
Then stretch'd his little arms and call'd me mother!
What could I do? I took the bantling home-
I could not tell the imp he had no mother.

Alb. Ah! there, my child, thou hast indeed no
blame.

Vict. Now this is kindly said: thanks, sweet

Albini!

Still call me child, and chide me as thou wilt.
O! would that I were such as thou couldst love!
Couldst dearly love, as thou didst love my mother!
Alb. (pressing her to her breast.) And do I not?
all perfect as she was,

I know not that she went so near my heart
As thou with all thy faults.

Vict. And say'st thou so? would I had sooner
known!

I had done any thing to give thee pleasure.
Alb. Then do so now, and put thy faults away.
Vict. No, say not faults; the freaks of thought-

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Alb. I must be gone: thou hast o'ercome me now:
Another time I will not yield it so.
[EXIT.
Isab. The countess is severe; she's too severe :
She once was young, though now advanced in years.
Vict. No, I deserve it all; she is most worthy.
Unlike those faded beauties of the court,
But now the wither'd stems of former flowers,
With all their blossoms shed, her nobler mind
Procures to her the privilege of man,
Ne'er to be old till nature's strength decays.
Some few years hence, if I should live so long,
I'd be Albini rather than myself.

Isab. Here comes your little favourite.
Vict. I am not in the humour for him now.
Enter MIRANDO, running up to VICTORIA, and taking
hold of her gown, while she takes no notice of him, as
he holds up his mouth to be kissed.

Then she look'd so, and smiled to him again.
(Throwing down his eyes affectedly.)
Isab. Thou art a little knave, and must be whipp'd.
[EXEUNT. Mirando leading out Victoria
affectedly.

ACT III.

SCENE I. AN OPEN STREET, OR SQUARE.
Enter ROSINBERG and FREDERICK, by opposite sides of
the stage.

Fred. So Basil, from the pressing calls of war,
Another day to rest and pastime gives.
How is it now? methinks thou art not pleased.
Ros. It matters little if I am or not.

Fred. Now pray thee do confess thou art ashamed:
Thou, who art wisely wont to set at naught

Isab. (to Mir.) Thou seest the princess can't be The noble fire of individual courage,

troubled with thee.

Mir. O but she will! I'll scramble up her robe, As naughty boys do when they climb for apples. Isah. Come here, sweet child; I'll kiss thee in her stead.

Mir. Nay, but I will not have a kiss of thee.
Would I were tall! O were I but so tall!

Isab. And how tall wouldst thou be?
Mir.

And call calm prudence the superior virtue,
What say'st thou now, my candid Rosinberg,
When thy great captain, in a time like this,
Denies his weary troops one day of rest
Before th' exertions of approaching battle,
Yet grants it to a pretty lady's suit?

Ros. Who told thee this? it was no friendly tale;.
And no one else, besides a trusty friend,

Thou dost not know? Could know his motives. Then thou wrong'st me

Just tall enough to reach Victoria's lips.

too;

Vict. (embracing him.) O! I must bend to this, For I admire, as much as thou dost, Frederick,

thou little urchin.

Who taught thee all this wit, this childish wit?
Whom does Mirando love? (embraces him again.)
He loves Victoria.

Mir.

Vict. And wherefore loves he her?
Mir.

Because she's pretty. Isab. Hast thou no little prate to-day, Mirando? No tale to earn a sugar-plum withal?

The fire of valour, e'en rash, heedless valour;
But not like thee do I depreciate

That far superior, yea, that godlike talent,
Which doth direct that fire, because indeed
It is a talent nature has denied me.

Fred. Well, well, and greatly he may boast his
virtue,

Who risks perhaps th' imperial army's fate,

Mir. Ay, that I have: I know who loves her To please a lady's freaks

grace.

Ros.

Go, go, thou'rt prejudiced:

Vict. Who is it, pray? thou shalt have comfits A passion, which I do not choose to name, for it.

Mir. (looking slyly at her.) It is-it is-it is

the Count of Maldo.

Vict. Away, thou little chit! that tale is old,
And was not worth a sugar-plum when new.
Mir. Well then, I know who loves her highness
well.

Vict. Who is it, then?
Isab.
Who is it, naughty boy?
Mir. It is the handsome Marquis of Carlatzi.
Vict. No, no, Mirando, thou art naughty still:
Twice have I paid thee for that tale already.
Mir. Well then, indeed-I know who loves
Victoria.

Vict. And who is he?
Mir.
It is Mirando's self.
Vict. Thou little imp! this story is not new,
But thou shalt have thy hire. Come, let us go.
Go, run before us, boy.

Has warp'd thy judgment.

Fred. No, by heaven thou wrong'st me!
I do, with most enthusiastic warmth,
True valour love: wherever he is found,
I love the hero too; but hate to see
The praises due to him so cheaply earn'd.

Ros. Then mayst thou now these generous feel-
ings prove.

Behold that man, whose short and grizzly hair
In clustering locks his dark brown face o'ershades;
Where now the scars of former sabre wounds,
In honourable companionship are seen
With the deep lines of age; whose piercing eye
Beneath its shading eyebrow keenly darts
Its yet unquenched beams, as though in age
Its youthful fire had been again renew'd,
To be the guardian of its darken'd mate:
See with what vigorous steps his upright form
He onward bears; nay, e'en that vacant sleeve
Which droops so sadly by his better side,
Suits not ungracefully the veteran's mien.
This is the man, whose glorious acts in battle
We heard to-day related o'er our wine.
I go to tell the general he is come:
Enjoy the generous feelings of thy breast,
(ogling with his eyes affectedly.) | And make an old man happy.

[look'd, Mir. Nay, but I'll show you how Count Wolvar When he conducted Isabel from court.

Vict. How did he look?

Mir. Give me your hand: he held his body thus; (putting himself in a ridiculous bowing posture.) And then he whisper'd softly; then look'd so;

(EXIT.

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