CARLOS.

The night broods heavily, as though Gaunt mischief were abroad, and its dun cloak Would hide some horror, the yet timid eye Shrinks to behold. An hour--a minuted age, Ere the appointed moment can break in Upon its tedious march. Hark! footsteps.

I must conceal----this friendly----Ah, Hermione!

Thus anxious for the meeting?

[_Steps behind a pillar._

_Enter HERMIONE, with a light; she sets it down at the entrance, and walks across the Terrace._

HERMIONE.

Roll on, thou terrible storm,-- On thy dark brow, the lightnings, as they play, Reveal thy rapid march!-- Spirit of air, that on the untamed winds Dost walk, or, on the rushing elements Upborne, thy chariot cleaves the groaning sky,-- Whether to me thou speakest with rude voice Of unstill'd tempest, or in whispering breath From morn's flower-fragrant breeze,--I hail thy presence.

Bear in thine hand hot thunder-bolts, The whirlwind on thy wing, the cloud-swoln cataract Burst on the reeking earth,--dauntless I'll make Terror my pastime, sport in their turmoil, And with the storm-careering demon's shriek My bitter laugh shall mingle. These are but The harmless play of innocent childhood,-- So fierce the storm that desolates my soul!

[_CARLOS comes from behind the pillar, and hesitatingly approaches._ Soft--Who approaches?--How!--Don Carlos!

Whence this intrusion?--Speak not, but begone!

I hear thee not. Touch but my garment, Shuddering, I'll shake thee off, as some vile reptile My senses loathe. Hence, ere I spurn thee!

_Enter the DUKE hastily, his sword drawn._

DUKE.

Draw, villain!--guard thine hated carca.s.s!

Unsheath, bewildered fool, lest I should spike thee On this good weapon! [_They engage._

HERMIONE.

Help!--How fierce they fight!--Lights!

Ho!--within!-- [_CARLOS falls._

CARLOS.

Oh, I'm wounded!-- There, may thy paramour complete thy work, Unblushing traitress!--Home to my heart-- Strike deep! thou canst not give so keen a thrust As her rude tongue!--Haste, ere thy weapon cool;-- Yet, ere I die, Hermione--I loved thee once, Now--from my heart I proudly tear thine image, Blotting it out for ever, as the memory Of some loathed wanton!--Hence!--haunt not my sight, Fell murderess!--Now unbar my prison, death!--

DUKE.

Nay,--I'll not haste thee to thy last acquittance, Ill-fated wretch!--I do repent mine haste.

_Enter BERTRAND._

BERTRAND.

Foul deeds betray ye, sirs!--Carlos!

Wounded!--Unhand him, villain!--'tis to thee He owes this bitter thrust. If thou art aught But what I deem thee, by the earliest dawn Again we meet. The outskirts of yon wood, Nigh to the city, with thy weapon, there Uphold thee for this most unjust a.s.sault.

An innocent man, if yet protection be Upon the stranger in proud Mantua, I bear to his abode; but on thy head His blood doth rest, a dastard's recreant crow Down drawing Heaven's hot vengeance!

_Enter RIDOLFI, LAURA, and Attendants, with lights._

LAURA.

Oh! they have slain him! Help! Who dealt this blow?

Sweetheart, for love thou diest, and for love, Malicious fate! thy maiden too must die.

[_BERTRAND bears off CARLOS._ Yet stay, Carlos! I follow thee.

RIDOLFI.

Nay, maid, content thee; Thou followest not this stranger.

LAURA.

Oh, he was mine!

But they have ta'en him.

RIDOLFI.

Thine! Some demon sure Makes ye his sport. My Lord--the Duke--I dream-- This night, methinks, the storm doth send confusion To men's calm thoughts, o'ermaster'd with its frenzy.

On they would rush, malign, to the fulfilment Of some sure, unscaped doom.

HERMIONE.

I know not whence These changes come,--inexplicable, dark As lies my fate,--the abyss to which I hasten!

My lord, can you unriddle these events?

Your presence would denote, at least to me, Some knowledge of their bearing.

DUKE.

A pleasant jest, from me to ask the key!

It hangs in thy bosom, lady. Friends, farewell!

I hasten hence ere this unpitying tempest Its fiercest burst, its gathering deluge pour; Cataracts of forked fire, commingled torrents, From the wide womb of the vexed elements.

HERMIONE.

Farewell, my lord! some other time we meet.

DUKE.

Farewell, my friends! another hour must tell My purpose here this night. [_Exeunt._

ACT III.--SCENE I.

_A Chamber in the Palace._

_The DUKE at a table, surveying his sword._

DUKE.

Mischievous weapon!

I would forswear thy company: but now We cannot part. Blameless,--inanimate,-- The heart alone makes thee its pa.s.sive tool To work the several ills its thought conceives!

What art thou, senseless steel? cold, motionless, Incapable of ought, or fraud or injury,-- No dire intent there broods, no pa.s.sionate flame Mix'd with thy temper, flashes o'er the obscure, The restless gulf within, troubling the spirit; A fitful gleam, on the dark surges wreathing Forms of unutterable horror,--wide Disclosing from the womb--the fathomless womb Of that abyss!--Would the events, The brief record of time, the narrow s.p.a.ce By yesternight enclosed, were blotted out, Effaced for ever. I must meet thee, stranger,-- Thou may'st avenge thy friend.--Hermione!-- Why should I start?--a sound--a bursting bubble Moves me. Hermione!--Again!--This heart Not so hath leapt in the loud roar of battle!

'Tis folly--madness,--yet she marks me out-- Gazes so strangely,--'twere an idle thought, But from her soul, methinks, such pulses come Of wild, unworded pa.s.sion, as they'd mingle, Perforce, with every faculty, desire, And through each avenue rush, thralling the will Unto its influence. Those basilisk eyes Are on me ever! Asleep, awake, they change not.

'Tis fascination! If such spell there be, Hermione doth use it! Yet enchains she not Others unto the like. I've watch'd her thus, How angrily,--as the quick lightning sped, The night uncovering from her form,--I saw Her eagle-glance the timorous love-sick wretch Strike helpless at her feet. It is not love,-- A spell earth owns not hangs upon my heart!-- I love Beatrice; yet more tenderly Unto her bosom mine affections cling, The more this parasite, this foul excrescence Preys on my vitals, wastes mine healthful spirit, Poisoning life's current even at its source.

I'll shake me from these toils: I knew not when The cunning net was thrown, so light the texture; And warily I wot the snare was laid, Or I had 'scaped it.

This unwelcome dawn Comes dimly on the cas.e.m.e.nt;--heavily The day's dull beam seems labouring up the sky,-- Low hang the clouds, huge relics of the storm, Like dark reflections brooding o'er the mind When pa.s.sion's rudest burst hath pa.s.s'd, and reason, As yon pale gleam, thus struggling forth its way Through adverse clouds, visits again the soul-- 'Tis then the mind, shuddering, at once recoils From the dire consequence, and conjures up A thousand possibilities to scare The resolute purpose. I linger at the threshold Of this proceeding. I will not fight thee, stranger; I've wrong'd thy friend. His death, yet unappeased, Clings to my burden'd spirit: I'll atone If yet there be of reparation aught This hand can give. Sylvio!

_Enter SYLVIO._

Attend me with the weapons. [_Exeunt._

SCENE II.

_An unfrequented Place, on the Outskirts of a Wood, without the Walls._

_Enter BERTRAND and two Attendants._

BERTRAND.