COLOMBE'S BIRTHDAY.

PERSONS.

COLOMBE OF RAVESTEIN, Duchess of Juliers and Cleves.

VALENCE, Advocate of Cleves.

PRINCE BERTHOLD, Claimant of the Duchy.

MELCHIOR, his Confidant.

PLACE, The Palace at Juliers.

TIME, 16—.

ACT I.

Morning. SCENE.-A corridor leading to the Audience-Chamber. GAUCELME, CLUGNET, MAUFROY, and other Courtiers round Gur BERT, who is silently reading a paper: as he drops it at the end

Gui. That this should be her birthday; and the day

We all invested her, twelve months ago,

As the late Duke's true heiress and our liege;

And that this also must become the day ...
Oh, miserable lady!

1st Court. Ay, indeed?

2d Court. Well, Guibert?

3d Court. But your news, my friend, your news!

The sooner, friend, one learns Prince Berthold's pleasure, The better for us all: how writes the Prince?

Give me I'll read it for the common good

Gui. In time, sir-but, till time comes, pardon me ! Our old Duke just disclosed his child's retreat, Declared her true succession to his rule, And died this birthday was the day, last year, We convoyed her from Castle Ravestein

That sleeps out trustfully its extreme age

On the Meuse's quiet bank, where she lived queen
Over the water-buds,-to Juliers' Court

With joy and bustle: here again we stand;

Sir Gaucelme's buckle's constant to his cap

To-day's much such another sunny day!

Gau. Come, Guibert-this outgrows a jest, I think!

You're hardly such a novice as to need

The lesson, you pretend.

Gui.

What lesson, sir?

That everybody, if he'd thrive at court,

Should, first and last of all, look to himself?

Why, no and therefore, with your good example, (-Ho, Master Adolf!)—to myself I'll look.

Enter ADOLlf.

Gui. The Prince's letter; why, of all men else,

Comes it to me?

Adolf.

By virtue of your place,

Sir Guibert! 'Twas the Prince's express charge,

His envoy told us, that the missive there

Should only reach our lady by the hand

Of whosoever held your place.

Gui.

Enough! [ADOLF retires.

Then, gentles, who'll accept a certain poor

Indifferently honourable place,

My friends, I make no doubt, have gnashed their teeth

At leisure minutes these half-dozen years,

To find me never in the mood to quit?

Who asks may have it, with my blessing, and—
This to present our lady. Who'll accept?

You, you, you? There it lies, and may, for me!
Mau. [a youth picking up the paper, reads aloud.]
"Prince Berthold, proved by titles following
"Undoubted Lord of Juliers, comes this day
"To claim his own, with license from the Pope,
"The Emperor, the kings of Spain and France"
Gau. Sufficient "titles following," I judge!
Don't read another! Well,-"to claim his own?

Mau. "And take possession of the Duchy held "Since twelve months, to the true heir's prejudice, "By"... Colombe, Juliers' Mistress, so she thinks, And Ravestein's mere lady, as we find!

Who wants the place and paper? Guibert's right!
I hope to climb a little in the world,—
I'd push my fortunes,-but, no more than he,
Could tell her on this happy day of days,

That, save the nosegay in her hand, perhaps,
There's nothing left to call her own! Sir Clugnet,
You famish for promotion; what say you?

Clug. [an old man.] To give this letter were a sort, I

take it,

Of service: services ask recompense :

What kind of corner may be Ravestein?

Gui. The castle ?—Oh, you'd share her fortunes?
Good!

Three walls stand upright, full as good as four,

With no such bad remainder of a roof.

Clug. Oh, but the Town?

Gui.

Five houses, fifteen huts;

A church whereto was once a spire, 'tis judged;

And half a dyke, except in time of thaw.

Clug. Still, there's some revenue?
Gui.

Else Heaven forefend!

You hang a beacon out, should fogs increase;
So when the autumn floats of pine-wood steer
Safe 'mid the white confusion, thanks to you,
Their grateful raftsman flings a guilder in;
That's if he means to pass your way next time.
Clug. If not?

Gui.

Hang, guilders, then-he blesses you! Clug. What man do you suppose me? Keep your paper! And let me say, it shows no handsome spirit

To dally with misfortune: keep your place!
Gau. Some one must tell her.

Gui.

Some one may you may!

Gau. Sir Guibert, 'tis no trifle turns me sick
Of court-hypocrisy at years like mine,

But this goes near it. Where's there news at all?
Who'll have the face, for instance, to affirm

He never heard, e'en while we crown the girl,
That Juliers' tenure was by Salic law;

That one, confessed her father's cousin's child,
And, she away, indisputable heir,

Against our choice protesting and the Duke's,
Claimed Juliers ?-nor, as he preferred his claim,
That first this, then another potentate,

Inclined to its allowance ?-I, or you,

Or any one except the lady's self?

Oh, it had been the direst cruelty

To break the business to her! Things might change

At all events, we'd see next masque at end,
Next mummery over first and so the edge
Was taken off sharp tidings as they came,
Till here's the Prince upon us, and there's she
-Wreathing her hair, a song between her lips,
With just the faintest notion possible

That some such claimant earns a livelihood

About the world, by feigning grievances
Few pay the story of, but grudge its price,

And fewer listen to, a second time.

Your method proves a failure; now try mine

And, since this must be carried . . .

Gui. [snatching the paper from him.] By your leave Your zeal transports you! 'Twill not serve the Prince