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Ros. No, not for all beneath the vaulted sky!
But to be plain, thus warmly from your lips,
Her praise displeases me. To men like you,
If love should come, he proves no easy guest.

Bas. What, dost thou think I am beside myself,
And cannot view the fairness of perfection
With that delight which lovely beauty gives,
Without tormenting me with fruitless wishes,
Like the poor child who sees its brighten'd face,
And whimpers for the moon? Thou art not serious.
From early youth, war has my mistress been,
And though a rugged one, I'll constant prove,
And not forsake her now. There may be joys
Which, to the strange o'erwhelming of the soul,
Visit the lover's breast beyond all others;
E'en now, how dearly do I feel there may !
But what of them? they are not made for me—
The hasty flashes of contending steel
Must serve instead of glances from my love,
And for soft breathing sighs the cannon's roar.
Ros. (taking his hand.) Now I am satisfied.
Forgive me, Basil.

Bas. I'm glad thou art; we'll talk of her no

more;

Why should I vex my friend?

Ros. Thou hast not issued orders for the march. Bas. I'll do it soon; thou need'st not be afraid, To morrow's sun shall bear us far from hence, Never perhaps to pass these gates again.

Ros. With last night's close, did you not curse this town

That would one single day your troops retard?
And now, methinks, you talk of leaving it,
As though it were the place that gave you birth;
As though you had around these strangers' walls
Your infant gambols play'd.

For me there is but one of all the sex,
Who still shall hold her station in my breast,
Midst all the changes of inconstant fortune;
Because I'm passing sure she loves me well,
And for my sake a sleepless pillow finds
When rumour tells bad tidings of the war;
Because I know her love will never change,
Nor make me prove uneasy jealousy.

Bas. Happy art thou! who is this wondrous woman?

Ros. It is mine own good mother, faith and truth!

Bas. (smiling.) Give me thy hand; I love her dearly too.

Rivals we are not, though our love is one.

Ros. And yet I might be jealous of her love, For she bestows too much of it on thee, Who hast no claim but to a nephew's share. Bas. (going.) I'll meet thee some time hence. I must to court.

Ros. A private conference will not stay thee long. I'll wait thy coming near the palace gate.

Bas. 'Tis to the public court I mean to go.
Ros. I thought you had determined otherwise.
Bas. Yes, but on farther thought it did appear
As though it would be failing in respect
At such a time-That look doth wrong me, Rosin-
berg!

For on my life, I had determined thus,
Ere I beheld-before we enter'd Mantua.
But wilt thou change that soldier's dusty garb,
And go with me thyself?

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Bas. The sight of what may be but little prized, Which first thou gavest me—I shall ne'er forget it!

Doth cause a solemn sadness in the mind,
When view'd as that we ne'er shall see again.

Ros. No, not a whit to wandering men like us.
No, not a whit! What custom hath endear'd
We part with sadly, though we prize it not:
But what is new some powerful charm must own,
Thus to affect the mind.

'Twas at Vienna, on a public day;

Thou but a youth, I then a man full form'd;
Thy stripling's brow graced with its first cockade,
Thy mighty bosom swell'd with mighty thoughts.
"Thou'rt for the court, dear Rosinberg," quoth

thou!

"Now pray thee be not caught with some gay dame.

Bas. (hastily.) We'll let it pass-It hath no To laugh and ogle, and befool thyself:

consequence :

Thou art impatient.

Ros. I'm not impatient. 'Faith, I only wish Some other route our destined march had been, That still thou mightst thy glorious course pursue With an untroubled mind.

Bas. O wish it, wish it not! bless'd be that route !

What we have seen to-day, I must remember-
I should be brutish if I could forget it.
Oft in the watchful post, or weary march,

Oft in the nightly silence of my tent,
My fixed mind shall gaze upon it still;
But it will pass before my fancy's eye,
Like some delightful vision of the soul,
To soothe, not trouble it.

Ros. What! midst the dangers of eventful war,
Still let thy mind be haunted by a woman?
Who would, perhaps, hear of thy fall in battle,
As Dutchmen read of earthquakes in Calabria,
And never stop to cry alack-a-day!'

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Note. My first idea, when I wrote this play, was to represent Basil as having seen Victoria for the first time in the procession, that I might show more perfectly the passion from its first beginning, and also its sudden power over the mind; but I was induced from the criticism of one, whose judgment I very much respect, to alter it, and represent him as having formerly seen and loved her. The first review that took notice of this work objected to Basil's having seen her before as a defect; and, as we are all easily determined to follow our own opinion, I have,

upon after-consideration, given the play in this edition, [third,] as far as this is concerned, exactly in its original state. Strong internal evidence of this will be discovered by any one, who will take the trouble of reading attentively the second scene of the first and second acts in the present and former editions of this book. Had Basil seen and loved Victoria before, his first speech, in which he describes her to Rosinberg as walking in the procession, would not be natural; and there are, I think, other little things besides, which will show that the circumstance of his former meeting with her is an interpolation.

The blame ofthis, however, I take entirely upon myself: the critice, whose opinion I have mentioned, judged of the piece entirely as an unconnected play, and knew nothing of the general plan of this work, which ought to have been communicated to him. Had it been, indeed, an unconnected play, and had I put this additional circumstance to it with proper judgment and skill, I am inclined to think it would have been an improvement.

ACT II.

SCENE I-A ROOM OF STATE.

Your third day's march will to his presence bring
Your valiant troops: said you not so, my lord?

Enter VICTORIA, the COUNTESS of ALBINI, ISABELLA, and

Ladies.

Bas. (who changes countenance upon seeing
them.)

Yes, I believe-I think-I know not well-
Yes, please your grace, we march by break of day.
Duke. Nay, that I know. I ask'd you, noble
count,

When you expect th' imperial force to join.
Bas. When it shall please your grace-I crave
your pardon-

I somewhat have mistaken of your words.
Duke. You are not well: your colour changes,
What is the matter?

Bas. A dizzy mist that swims before my sight-
A ringing in my ears-'tis strange enough-
'Tis slight-'tis nothing worth-'tis gone already.
Duke. I'm glad it is. Look to your friend, Count
Rosinberg,

The DUKE of MANTUA, BASIL, ROSINBERG, and a number It may return again.-(To Rosinberg, who stands at of Courtiers, Attendants, &c. The DUKE and BASIL appear talking together on the front of the stage.

Duke. But our opinions differ widely there;
From the position of the rival armies,
I cannot think they'll join in battle soon.
Bas. I am indeed beholden to your highness,
But though unwillingly, we must depart.
The foes are near, the time is critical;

A soldier's reputation is too fine

To be exposed e'en to the smallest cloud.

a little distance, looking earnestly at Basil. Duke leaves them, and joins Victoria's party.)

Ros. Good heavens, Basil, is it thus with thee!
Thy hand shakes too: (taking his hand.)

Would we were far from hence!
Bas. I'm well again, thou need'st not be afraid.
"Tis like enough my frame is indisposed
With some slight weakness from our weary march.
Nay, look not on me thus, it is unkindly-

Duke. An untried soldier's is; but yours, my I cannot bear thine eyes.

lord,

The DUKE, with VICTORIA and her Ladies, advance to the front of the stage to BASIL.

Nursed with the bloody showers of many a field,
And brightest sunshine of successful fortune,
A plant of such a hardy stem hath grown,
E'en envy's sharpest blasts assail it not.
Yet after all, by the bless'd holy cross!
I feel too warm an interest in the cause
To stay your progress here a single hour,
Did I not know your soldiers are fatigued,
And two days' rest would much recruit their I shall not be offended when I see

Duke. Victoria, welcome here the brave Count
Basil.

strength.

Bas. Your highness will be pleased to pardon me;
My troops are not o'ermarch'd, and one day's rest
Is all our needs require.

Duke.
Ah! hadst thou come
Unfetter'd with the duties of command,
I then had well retained thee for my guest,
With claims too strong, too sacred for denial.
Thy noble sire my fellow soldier was;
Together many a rough campaign we served;
I loved him well, and much it pleases me
A son of his beneath my roof to see.

Bas. Were I indeed free master of myself,
Strong inclination would detain me here;
No other tie were wanting.

These gracious tokens of your princely favour
I'll treasure with my best remembrances;
For he who shows them for my father's sake,
Does something sacred in his kindness bear,
As though he shed a blessing on my head.

His kinsman too, the gallant Rosinberg.
May you, and these fair ladies so prevail,
Such gentle suitors cannot plead in vain,
To make them grace my court another day.

Your power surpasses mine.

Vict. Our feeble efforts will presumptuous seem
Attempting that in which your highness fails.
Duke. There's honour in th' attempt; success
attend ye. (Duke retires and mixes with
the Courtiers at the bottom of the stage.)
Vict. I fear we incommoded you, my lord,
With the slow tedious length of our procession.
E'en as I pass'd, against my heart it went
To stop so long upon their weary way
Your tired troops.-

Bas.
Ah! madam, all too short!
Time never bears such moments on his wing,
But when he flies too swiftly to be mark'd.
Vict. Ah! surely then you make too good amends
By marking now his after-progress well.
To-day must seem a weary length to him
Who is so eager to be gone to-morrow.

Ros. They must not linger who would quit these
walls;

Duke. Well, bear my greetings to the brave Pis- For if they do, a thousand masked foes;

caro,

And say how warmly I embrace the cause.

Some under show of rich luxurious feasts,
Gay, sprightly pastime, and high-zested game ;-

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.)

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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?

She holds its subtle arts in high derision,
And will not serve us but with bandaged eyes.
Gauriecio, could I trusty servants find,
Experienced, crafty, close, and unrestrain'd
By silly, superstitious, child-learnt fears,
What might I not effect?

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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.

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; Might he be tamper'd with?
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.

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?

Enter ROSINBERG.

Ros. Where is the princess?

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

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 honey'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?

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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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