This realm I hoped was safe! Yet here I talk, But bidding plagues, which follow sons like you, [Recollecting himself.] Surely I could say this, if minded so, my son? Cha. You could not! Bitterer curses than your curse Have I long since denounced upon myself If I misused my power. In fear of these By them so, I should say, Count Tende . . . No! But no! But if, my Charles, your-more than old- And then confessed them futile, but said plainly Cha. My father! Vic. Stay yet-and if he said he could not die Deprived of baubles he had put aside, He deemed, for ever-of the crown that binds Your brain up, whole, sound and impregnable, Creating kingliness-the sceptre, too, Whose mere wind, should you wave it, back would beat Invaders and the golden ball which throbs As if you grasped the palpitating heart Indeed o' the realm, to mould as you may choose! -If I must totter up and down the streets Stay, Charles-I see you letting me pretend So sedulously guard from all rough truths Enter D'ORMEA, leading in POLYXENA. Pol. [advancing and withdrawing CHARLES-to In this conjuncture, even, he would say— A great man from himself, nor see him fling So absolute: no enemy shall learn He thrust his child 'twixt danger and himself, -Body, that's much,-and soul, that's more-and realm, That's most of all! No enemy shall say... D'O. Do you repent, sir? Vic. [resuming himself.] D'Ormea! This is well! Worthily done, King Charles, craftily done! Judiciously you post these, to o'erhear The little your importunate father thrusts You showed in answering his peevish suit : Bravely, D'Ormea, but for you, The old Count might have drawn some few more livres To swell his income! Had you, Lady, missed The moment, a permission had been granted To build afresh my ruinous old pile ! Next time to slight such mediators! Nay- I might have had a chamber in Moncaglier Cha. You were mistaken, Marquis, as you hear! 'Twas for another purpose the Count came. The Count desires Moncaglier. Give the order! D'O. [leisurely.] Your minister has lost your confidence, Asserting late, for his own purposes, Count Tende would... Cha. [flinging his badge back.] Be still, the minis ter ! And give a loose to your insulting joy It irks me more thus stifled than expressed. D'O. There's none to loose, alas !-I see I never am to die a martyr. Pol. Charles! Cha. No praise, at least, Polyxena-no praise! FROM THE RETURN OF THE DRUSES. IN AN ISLAND COLONIZED BY THE DRUSES, AND GARRISONED BY THE KNIGHTS-HOSPITALLERS, DJABAL HAS ANNOUNCED HIMSELF AS THE EXPECTED HAKEEM AND DELIVERER OF HIS PEOPLE. ANAEL, HIS LOVE, HAVING, IN ATTESTATION OF HER FAITH IN THIS, SLAIN THE PREFECT, THEIR OPPRESSOR, RECEIVES THE AVOWAL OF HER LOVER'S IMPOSTURE, AND DECLARES IT TO THE NUNCIO SUCCEEDING TO THE TYRANNY OF HIS PREDECESSOR, JUST AS THE VENETIAN SUCCOURS, INVITED BY DJABAL, ARE ABOUT TO ARRIVE. LOYS DE DREUX, A YOUNG KNIGHT, FRIENDLY TO DJABAL, LOVES ANAEL ALSO. ACT V. The Uninitiated Druses, covering the stage tumultuously, and speaking together. Lo, Hakeem Here flock we, obeying the summons. hath appeared, and the Prefect is dead, and we return to Lebanon! My manufacture of goats' fleece must, I doubt, soon fall away there. Come, old Nasif—link thine arm in mine—we fight, if needs be. Come, what is a great fight-word? "Lebanon?" (My daughtermy daughter!)-But is Khalil to have the office of Hamza?-Nay, rather, if he be wise, the monopoly of henna and cloves. Where is Hakeem ?-The only prophet I ever saw, prophesied at Cairo once, in my youth-a little black Copht, dressed all in black too, with a great stripe of yellow cloth flapping down behind him like the back-fin of a water-serpent. Is this he? Biamrallah! Biamreh! HAKEEM ! |