So long, no minute lose, but take occasion
Of the fresh flow of sorrow in my child-

When her young heart is softened, and will mould
Itself into his will, who is no more-

To break to her, on this particular head,

My dying testament.

Ulrick. I shall remember.

Duke. So please you, I shall join you with the empress, Liege lady and good cousin to my child,

Executor.

Ulrick. I will discharge the trust.

Duke. My lord, send Huon to me.

Question not,

Advise me not. He marries, or he dies. [Exit Ulrick, L.
- Life spent to waste! My pride becomes my shame!
For this I reared her-reared to tow'ring thoughts.
A gasp of being only left, and that

To sigh that being has been spent in vain
For her, last shoot of an illustrious tree!
I loved my serf, was vain of him, and made
My vanity to smile through his deserts;
And now, their light is cloud to all my hopes.
Through mine own pride my high aspirings fall!
They shall not fall! Good bye to truth! He dares
To love my child-to covet her I grudged
Surrender of to those could boast estate
Equal to mine! Born at my very foot,
How durst he lift his eyes so giddy high!
He comes. I see! The passion, never yet
I dreamed of, stares upon me in his look,
His air, his gait ! 'Tis dead-or he must die!

Huon!

Huon. My lord?

Enter HUON, R.

Duke. I have been thinking of thee.
Huon. My lord is ever good.

Duke. I have a notion

'Twould profit thee to marry.

Huon. Marry!

Duke. Yes.

Huon. I first must love.

Duke. And hast thou never loved?

Why art thou silent? Wherefore holds thy tongne
Its peace, and not thy cheek?
Huon. My cheek?

Duke. It talks!

A flush passed o'er it as I spoke to thee:
And now it talks again-and on the ground
Thou cast'st thine eye.

friend,

"Thou first must love"-My

Thou art in love already. Art thou not?

Art thou not, Huon?-Never mind, but keep

Thy secret. I have fixed that thou shalt marry.
Huon. My lord-

Duke. [Interrupting him.] I know it will advantage thee. And I have looked around my court to find

A partner for thee, and I have lit on one.

Huon. [More earnestly.] My lord

Duke. [Interrupting him again.] She has beauty, Huon, she has wealth;

And what doth qualify her better still-
As of unequal matches discords grow-
She's of thy own class, Huon-she is a serf.
Huon. [Impetuously.] My lord-

Duke. [Interrupting, indignantly.] My serf!-How now! Wouldst thou rebel?

Huon. Rebel, my lord!

Duke. I trust I was deceived:

I did not see defiance in thine eye,

And hear it on thy tongue? Thou wouldst not dare

So much as harbour wish to thwart thy lord,

Much less intent? Thou know'st him! know'st thyself!

Thou may'st have scruples-that thou canst not help;
But thou canst help indulging them in the face

Of thy lord's will. And so, as 'tis my will

Thou marry straight, and I have found thy match,
I'll draw a paper up, where thou shalt make
The proffer of thy hand to Catherine,

And thou shalt sign it, Huon.

Huon. That I were dead!

Oh, what is death, compared to slavery!

[Writes.

"Brutes may bear bondage-they were made for it, "When Heaven set men above them; but no mark, "Definite and indelible, it put

Upon one man to mark him from another,

"That he should live his slave ?" Oh, heavy curse!
To have thought, reason, judgment, feelings, tastes,
Passions, and conscience, like another man,
And not have equal liberty to use them,

But call his mood their master! Why was I born
With passion to be free-with faculties
To use enlargement-with desires that cleave
To high achievements-and with sympathies
Attracting me to objects fair and noble,—
And yet with power over myself as little
As any beast of burden? Why should I live?
There are of brutes themselves that will not tame,
So high in them is nature;-whom the

And lash, instead of curbing, only chafe

spur

Into prouder mettle;-that will let you kill them,
Ere they will suffer you to master them.
I am a man, and live.

Duke. Here, Huon, sign,

And Catherine is your wife.
Huon. I will not sign.

Duke. How now, my serf!

Huon. My lord, I am a man :

And as a man, owe duty higher far

Than that I owe to thee, which Heaven expects
That I discharge. Didst thou command me murder,

Steal, commit perjury, or even lie,

-

Should I do it, though thy serf? No! To espouse her, Not loving her, were murder of her peace.

I will not sign for that! With like default

To compass mastery of her effects,

Were robbery. I will not sign for that!

To swear what I must swear to make her mine,
Were perjury at the very altar! Therefore
I will not sign! To put forth plea of love,
Which not a touch of love bears witness to,
Were uttering a lie. And so, my lord,
I will not sign at all!

Duke. How, slave!

Huon. Oh, good my liege,

My lord, my master, ask me not to sign!

[Crosses, B.

My sweat, my blood, use without sparing; but

Coerce me not in that,

Leave me my heart-a miserable one

Although it be!

To make me do the thing my heart abhors!
I beg no more!

The Duke draws his sword, and resolutely approaches
Huon. At the same minute the Countess enters, un-
perceived, and stops short, R.

Duke. Huon, I love thee,

And would not do thee harm, unless compelled.
Thou shouldst not play with me, and shalt not.
Therefore, thy choice-death, or the paper.

Take,

Huon. Death! [Falls on his knees, opens his vest, takes the point of the Duke's sword and places it opposite his heart.

Set here thy point:

'Tis right against my heart! The more, the kinder!

Press firm and straight;

Duke. As thou wishest death,

I will not kill thee for thy disobedience.
An hour I grant for calm reflection :—use it.
If, on the lapse of that brief space, 1 find
The page without addition, thou may'st learn
That even slavery hath its degrees,
Which makes it sometimes sweet.

[A pause.

Our felons throng

The galleys: but 'tis hard, or we shall find
A bench and oar for thee.

Huon. My lord, come back!

Exit, L.

My lord! What now's my mind, be sure 'twill be
At the end of the hour! of the day! of my life!-My

lord!

He does not hear, or will not.

Of most insufferable misery,

Most sweet cause

Would'st thou not weep at this? Couldst thou look on, And keep pride sitting in thy woman's eye

The proper throne of pity-which for me,

The melting queen has yet refused to fill,

But to a stern usurper all abandoned!

Wouldst thou not weep? "Or would my name alone

66

My sole condition set 'gainst all myself;

"The vivid thoughts, the feelings sensitive,

"The quick affections, passions of a man,

Despite his misery of birthright; flesh,

"Warm, warm; of as high vitality as though
"His lot had been an heirdom to a throne-
"Would that, prevailing 'gainst such odds as these,
"Prevent thee?" Yes! Thou wouldst not weep
for me.
Oh, knew I what would make thee! Would my corpse
Then to my father! own my passion for thee,
Tell him his serf aspires to love his daughter,
Boasts of it, though he sends him to the galleys,
Will glory in it, chained beside the felon,
Ay, with the tasker's whip whirling above him,
Reiterate it, when he threatens me,

And when again he threatens, justify it,
On the broad rights of common human nature,
Till with his own hand he transfixes me!

[Following the Duke, L. Countess. [Interposing.] Stop, Huon!-What's the mat

ter?

Huon. Huon-Huon!

Didst thou say Huon-and with gentleness?

Madam-my mistress-I am your slave !—I am nothing But the poor serf!

Coun. See if that door is free

From list'ners.

Huon. [Goes to the door, L., and returns.] There is no one here.

Coun. Now, what's the matter

With my father and you?

Huon. He bade me sign that paper,

And I refused.

Coun. What is it? Let me see it.

Huom. [Hands the paper and watches the Countess while she reads.] How her eye fastens on the writing

seems

To grasp it, as her hand the paper!

What!

Did she start? She did! Oh, wherefore ?—What is

this?

Her sweet face that just now was all a calm,

Show signs of brooding tempest! Yes, 'tis on-
Lowers on her brow, and flashes on her cheek,

Like cloud and lightning. How her bosom heaves ! What makes it heave? [She drops the paper.] She has let the paper drop,