Vic. I am then King! As I became a King Despite the nations-kept myself a King—

So I die King, with Kingship dying too

Around me! I have lasted Europe's time!

What wants my story of completion? Where

Must needs the damning break show! Who mistrusts My children here-tell they of any break

'Twixt my day's sunrise and its fiery fall?

And who were by me when I died but they?
Who?-D'Ormea there!

Cha.

What means he?

Ever there!

Vic.

Charles-how to save your story? Mine must go!
Say-say that you refused the crown to me--
Charles, yours shall be my story! You immured
Me, say, at Rivoli. A single year

I spend without a sight of you, then die—
That will serve every purpose-tell that tale

The world!

Cha.

Vic.

Mistrust me? Help!

Past help, past reach

"Tis in the heart—you cannot reach the heart: This broke mine, that I did believe, you, Charles, Would have denied and so disgraced me.

Pol.

Charles

Has never ceased to be your subject, Sire!
He reigned at first through setting up yourself
As pattern: if he e'er seemed harsh to you,

Twas from a too intense appreciation

Of your own character: he acted you—
Ne'er for an instant did I think it real,
Or look for any other than this end.

I hold him worlds the worse on that account;
But so it was.

Cha. [to POLYX.] I love you, now, indeed! [To VICTOR.] You never knew me!

Hardly till this moment

Vic.
When I seem learning many other things,
Because the time for using them is past.
If 'twere to do again! That's idly wished.
Truthfulness might prove policy as good

As guile. Is this my daughter's forehead ?-Yes-
I've made it fitter now to be a Queen's

Than formerly-I've ploughed the deep lines there
Which keep too well a crown from slipping off!
No matter. Guile has made me King again.
Louis-'twas in King Victor's time-long since,
When Louis reign'd—and, also, Victor reign'd―
How the world talks already of us two!

God of eclipse and each discolour'd star,
Why do I linger then?

D'Ormea! Come nearer to your King! Now stand!

[Collecting his strength as D’ORMEA approaches

But you lied, D'Ormea! I do not repent.

[Dies

COLOMBE'S BIRTHDAY.

A Play.

Ivy and violet, what do ye here.

With bossom and shoot in the warm spring-weather,

Hiding the arms of Monchenci and Vere?"

HANMED

Dedication.

NO ONE LOVES AND HONOURS BARRY CORNWALL MORE THAN

ROBERT BROWNING DOES;

WHO, HAVING NOTHING BETTER THAN THIS PLAY TO

GIVE HIM IN PROOF OF T

MUST SAY 80.

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 Gui 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...