James. Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base, as soon as I. [Roderic waves his hand, and the soldier retire.] Rod. Fear not, nay that I need not say, But doubt not aught from mine array. Thou art my guest, I pledged my word So move we on; I only meant To show the reed on which Will lead thee safe through watch and ward, When foeman bade me draw my blade; Rod. No, stranger, none ! James. Nay, first to James at Stirling go. Or if the king shall not agree Rod. Thy rash presumption now shall rue Who ill deserved my courteous care, [Pointing to a braid on James's breast.] James. I thank thee, Roderic, for the word; It nerves my heart, it steels my sword. By thee dishonored and betrayed; XXXIV. FROM RIENZI.-Mitford. ANGELO-RIENZI. Angelo. Tribune,-I said Tribune;—but Thou wavest away the word with such a scorn As I poured poison in thine ear. Already Dost weary of the title? Rienzi. Wherefore should I? Ang. Thou art ambitious. Rie. There thou mistakest. A king! fair son! Tribune! the Gracchi Were called so. Tribune! I will make that name A word of fear to kings. Ang. Rienzi! Tribune! Hast thou forgotten, on this very spot, How thou didst shake the slumbering soul of Rome And from her giant limbs the shackles dropped, History had crowned thee with a glorious title— Rie. Well! When now thou fallest, as fall thou must, 'twill be Princes cast down, that thy obscurer house Rie. Hast thou ended? I fain would have mistaken thee-hast done? Ang. No-for, despite thy smothered wrath, the voice Of warning truth shall reach thee. Thou, to-day, Hast, by thy frantic sacrilege, drawn on thee The thunders of the church, the mortal feud Of either emperor. Here, at home, the barons Hate, and the people shun thee. Seest thou not, Even in this noon of pride, thy waning power Fade, flicker, and wax dim? Thou art as one Perched on some lofty steeple's dizzy height, Dazzled by the sun, inebriate by long draughts Of thinner air; too giddy to look down Where all his safety lies; too proud to dare The long descent to the low depth from whence The desperate climber rose. Rie. Ay, there's the sting That I, an insect of to-day, outsoar With my poor parentage? Wouldst shame me Sir. I'm the son Of him who kept a sordid hostelry In the Jew's quarter; my good mother cleansed Rie. Add, that my boasted school-craft Was gained from such base toil, gained with such pain That the nice nurture of the mind was oft Stolen at the body's cost. I have gone dinnerless And supperless, the scoff of our poor street, For tattered vestments and lean hungry looks, Το pay the pedagogue. Add what thou wilt The roots delve deepest. Yes, I've trod thy halls, I seemed I was a base, ignoble slave. Ang. In an evil hour Rie. Darest thou Say that? An evil hour for thee, my Claudia! The gallant bearing, the feigned tale of love All false, all outward, simulated all. Ang. But that I loved her, but that I do love her Than thy ambition-hardened heart e'er dreamed of, Rie. Go to, lord Angelo; Thou lovest her not. Men taunt not, nor defy Keep that brave for thy comrades. I'll not fight thee. [Going.] For her dear sake-come, to thy bride! home! home! XXXV.-MAURICE, THE WOODCUTTER.-Somerset. PRINCE LEOPOLD-BARON LEIBHEIM-COUNT HARTENSTEINMAURICE HANS, HIS FRIEND-DOMINIE STARRKOPH-GLAN DOFF, FRIEND OF THE COUNT-CAPTAIN MANHOOF-RIEGEL, PRISON-KEEPER-BOLTZEN, HIS TURNKEY-FRITZ, SON OF MAURICE-MARIE, WIFE OF MAURICE-LOTTA, THEIR DAUGH TER-OFFICERS-PEASANTS. Scene 1.-A pleasant Village.-A post from which a bell is suspended. [Enter groups of peasantry, in holiday suits, preceded by music. Enter Dominie Starrkoph, with a large paper.] Dominie Ah-good morrow to ye, my merry men, all! |