'Tis but the mournful breeze that passes by? (Pauses again, and gazes at the window, till the SCENE II.-A WOOD, WILD AND SAVAGE; AN ENTRY light disappears.) 'Tis gone, 'tis gone! these eyes have seen their last! The last impression of her heavenly form: Enter GEOFFRY from behind a tomb. Geof. O stay, my general! Art thou from the grave? Geof. O my brave general! do you know me not? I am old Geoffry, the old maim'd soldier, Bas. Then go thy way, for thou art honourable: Thou hast no shame, thou need'st not seek the dark Like fall'n, fameless men. I pray thee go! Geof. Nay, speak not thus, my noble general! Ah! speak not thus! thou'rt brave, thou'rt honour'd still. Thy soldier's fame is far too surely raised To be o'erthrown with one unhappy chance. Bas. Forbear, forbear! thy words but wring my soul. Geof. O pardon me! I am old maim'd Geoffry. O! do not go ! I've but one hand to hold thee. (Laying hold of Basil as he attempts to go away. Basil stops, and looks around upon him with softness.) Bas. Two would not hold so well, old honour'd veteran ! What wouldst thou have me do? Geof. Return, my lord; for love of blessed heaven, Seek not such desperate ways! where would you go? Bas. Does Geoffry ask where should a soldier go To hide disgrace? there is no place but one. (Struggling to get free.) Let go thy foolish hold, and force me not To do some violence to thy hoary headWhat, wilt thou not? nay, then it must be so. (Breaks violently from him, and EXIT.) Geof. Cursed feeble hand! he's gone to seek perdition! I cannot run. Where is that stupid hind? TO A CAVE, VERY MUCH TANGLED WITH BRUSH WOOD, IS SEEN IN THE BACKGROUND. THE TIME REPRESENTS THE DAWN OF MORNING. BASIL IS DISCOVERED STANDING NEAR THE FRONT OF THE STAGE, IN A THOUGHTFUL POSTURE, WITH A COUPLE OF PISTOLS LAID BY HIM ON A PIECE OF PROJECTING ROCK; HE PAUSES FOR SOME TIME. Bas. (alone.) What shall I be some few short moments hence? Why ask I now? who from the dead will rise Or some dread thing, man's wildest range of thought Be toss'd aloft through tracks of endless void, Will the great God of mercy, mercy have Will he not punish with a pitying hand (Pauses.) O horrid baseness! what, what shall I do? I'll think no more-it turns my dizzy brainIt is too late to think-what must be, must beI cannot live, therefore I needs must die. (Takes up the pistols, and walks up and down, looking wildly around him, then discovering the cave's mouth,) Here is an entry to some darksome cave, Where an uncoffin'd corse may rest in peace, I'll do it here. (Enters the cave and ExIT; a deep silence; then the report of a pistol is heard from the cave, and soon after, Enter Rosinberg, Valtomer, two Officers and Soldiers, almost at the same moment by different sides of the stage.) Ros. This way the sound did come. Valt. How came ye, soldiers? heard ye that report? 1st Sol. We heard it, and it seem'd to come from hence, Which made us this way hie. Ros. A horrid fancy darts across my mind. (A groan heard from the cave.) (To Valt.) Ha! heard'st thou that? Valt. Methinks it is the groan of one in pain. (A second groan.) Ros. Ha! there again! SCENE III.-THE INSIDE OF THE CAVE. BASIL discovered lying on the ground, with his head raised a little upon a few stones and earth, the pistols lying beside him, and blood upon his breast. Enter ROSINBERG, VALTOMER, and OFFICERS. Rosinberg, upon seeing Basil, stops short with horror, and remains motionless for some time. Valt. Great God of heaven! what a sight is this! (Rosinberg runs to Basil, and stoops down by his side.) Ros. (making a sign for the Officers to retire.) 'Tis but a sentry, to prevent intrusion. Bas. Thou know'st this desperate deed from Hath shut me out: I am unbless'd of men, Ros. O Basil! O my friend! what hast thou May not some heavenly mercy still be found? done? Bas. (covering his face with his hand.) Why art thou come? I thought to die in peace. Ros. Thou know'st me not-I am thy Rosinberg, Thy dearest, truest friend, thy loving kinsman ! Thou dost not say to me, Why art thou come? Bas. Shame knows no kindred: I am fall'n, disgraced; My fame is gone, I cannot look upon thee. Ros. My Basil, noble spirit! talk not thus ! Bas. Ah Rosinberg! this is no time to boast! For that I now remember how oft-times Ros. (taking Basil's hand, and pressing it to his I knew thou wert superior to myself, Bas. It was delusion, all delusion, Rosinberg' Bas. It doubles unto me the stroke of death Thou wilt not then my dying wish fulfil ? Ros. I will! I will! what wouldst thou have me Bas. See her when I am gone; be gentle with her; Ros. I'll do what thou desirest. Bas. I thank thee, Rosinberg; my time draws near. Ros. Thou wilt find mercy-my beloved Basil- Enter VALTOMER. Valt. (to Ros) My lord, the soldiers all insist to enter. What shall I do? they will not be denied: Bas. Ah, my brave fellows! do they call me so ? Enter SOLDIERS, who gather round BASIL, and look mournfully upon him; he holds out his hand to them with a faint smile. Bas. My generous soldiers, this is kindly meant. I'm low in the dust; God bless you all, brave hearts! 1st Sol. And God bless you, my noble, noble general! We'll never follow such a leader more. 2d Sol. Ah! had you stayed with us, my noble general, We would have died for you. (3d Soldier endeavours next to speak, but cannot ; Bas. (in a very faint broken voice.) Where art Ros. Is there aught thou wouldst desire? 1st Sol. That motion was his last. 1st Sol. Alas! no trumpet e'er shall rouse him (Raising his head a little, and perceiving Of Until the dreadful blast that wakes the dead. ficers.) Is there not some one here? are we alone? 2d Sol. And when that sounds it will not wake a braver. 3d Sol. How pleasantly he shared our hardest toil! Our coarsest food the daintiest fare he made. 4th Sol. Ay, many a time, i' the cold damp plain has he With cheerful countenance cried, "Good rest, my Then wrapp'd him in his cloak, and laid him down Vict. (recovering.) Unloose thy hold, and let me O! horrid, horrid sight! my ruin'd Basil! (Kneels down by the body and bends over it.) These wasted streams of life! this bloody wound! (Laying her hand upon his heart.) Is there no breathing here? all still! all cold. (Rosinberg all this time continues hanging over Open thine eyes, speak, be thyself again, the body, and gazing upon it. endeavours to draw him away.) Valt. This is too sad, my lord. Valtomer now And I will love thee, serve thee, follow thee, Ros. There, seest thou how he lies? so fix'd, so And dost not hear my call. pale ? Ah! what an end is this! thus lost! thus fall'n! here. Ros. He was the younger brother of my soul. Valt. Indeed, my lord, it is too sad a sight Time calls us, let the body be removed. Ros. He was-O! he was like no other man! Ros. Shall we not remove him hence? He would not give offence. 1st Sol. What shall our general, like a very wretch, Be laid unhonour'd in the common ground? No last salute to bid his soul farewell? No warlike honours paid? it shall not be. 2d Sol. Laid thus? no, by the blessed light of heaven! In the most holy spot in Mantua's walls He shall be laid: in face of day be laid; Ros. No, madam; now your pity comes too late. it! Ros. No, madam, no, I will not now upbraid: Vict. No, never, never! thus it shall not be. I'm fretted, gall'd, all things are hateful to me. (Victoria goes to throw herself upon the body but Vict. O force me not away! by his cold corse, And though black priests should curse us in the If there is any holy kindness in you, We will fire o'er him whilst our hands have power Tear me not hence. grasp a musket. Το Several Soldiers. Let those who dare forbid it! now, For see a mournful visiter appears, Enter VICTORIA and ISABELLA. Vict. I thought to find him here, where has he fled? (to Isab. and Valt.) For he loved me in thoughtless folly lost, (Rosinberg points to the body without speaking. It doth subdue the sternness of my grief thee. .t should be so! How like a hateful ape To close the oppressive splendour of his day, I cannot tell thee; Man. Ah! but he is not now the man he was. Liberal he'll be. God grant he may be quiet. Jer. What has befall'n him? Man. But faith, there is no living with him now. Jer. And yet methinks, if I remember well, You were about to quit his service, Manuel, When last he left this house. You grumbled then. Man. I've been upon the eve of leaving him These ten long years; for many times is he So difficult, capricious, and distrustful, He galls my nature-yet, I know not how, A secret kindness binds me to him still. Jer. Some, who offend from a suspicious nature, Will afterward such fair confession make As turns e'en th' offence into a favour. Man. Yes, some indeed do so: so will not he: He'd rather die than such confession make. Jer. Ay, thou art right; for now I call to mind That once he wrong'd me with unjust suspicion, When first he came to lodge beneath my roof And when it so fell out that I was proved Most guiltless of the fault, I truly thought He would have made profession of regret. But silent, haughty, and ungraciously He bore himself as one offended still. Yet shortly after, when unwittingly I did him some slight service, o' the sudden He overpower'd me with his grateful thanks, And would not be restrain'd from pressing on me His o'erstrain'd gratitude and bounty well, I would have left him many years ago, Man. No, he departed all unknown to her, Jer. All this is strange-something disturbs his mind Belike he is in love. No, Jerome, no. Man. (Listening.) He is arrived-stay thou-I had forgot- [EXIT hastily. (A great bustle without. ExIT Manuel with lights, and returns again, lighting in DE MONFORT, as if just alighted from his journey.) Jer. Here is a little of the favourite wine That you were wont to praise. Pray honour me. (Fills a glass.) De Mon. (after drinking.) I thank you, Jerome, Jer. Ay, my dear wife did ever make it so. Alas, my lord! she's dead. Jer. Wo's me! I thought you would have She was a kindly soul! Before she died, And but the morning ere she breathed her last, Man. Your ancient host, my lord, receives you Indeed I fear I have distress'd you, sir; De Mon. Move what thou wilt, and trouble me To make this cursed noise? (To Manuel.) Go to no more. (Manuel, with the assistance of other Servants. sets about putting the things in order, and De Monfort remains sitting in a thoughtful posture.) the gate. [EXIT Manuel. All sober citizens are gone to bed; Jer. I hear unusual voices-here they come. Enter JEROME, bearing wine, &c. on a salver. As he Re-enter MANUEL, showing in Count FREBERG and his approaches DE MONFORT, MANUEL pulls him by the sleeve. Man. (aside to Jerome.) No, do not now; he will not be disturb'd. LADY, with a mask in her hand. Freb. (running to embrace De Mon.) My dearest Monfort! most unlook'd for pleasure! Do I indeed embrace thee here again? Jer. What, not to bid him welcome to my house, I saw thy servant standing by the gate, And offer some refreshment? Man. No, good Jerome. Softly a little while: I prithee do. Je (aside to Manuel.) Ah, Manuel, what an His face recall'd, and learnt the joyful tidings. De Mon. I thank thee, Freberg, for this friendly His eyes are hollow, and his cheeks are pale- |