That day is come, ay, and that very hour; Now shout your war-cry, now unsheath your sword! That guards thy land are forty thousand men― That bars their further course: they wait for thee: To conquest and to glory! Bour. To revenge! Why, how we dream! why look, Garcia; canst thou That Charles may learn what guerdon valor wins Gon. It shall not need What ho! but hold-together with this garb, Bour. What! (Resumes the monk's cowl.) Wilt thou to Spain with me in frock and cowl, Gon. Listen, the queen for her own purposes Confided to my hand her signet-ring, Bidding me strike your fetters off, and lead you But being free, so use thy freedom, that Before the morning's dawn all search be fruitless. What ho! within. (Enter Jailer.) Behold this signet-ring! Strike off those chains, and get thee gone. (Exit Jailer.) And now follow.-How's this-dost doubt me, Bourbon? Bour. Ay, First for thy habit's sake; and next, because Than seekest that danger in thy country's wars. Gon. Thou art unarmed: there is my dagger; 'tis Should play me false; take it, and use it, too, Bour. What! Lautrec's loving friend, Now bound for Italy, along with him? Gon. Then the foul fiend hath mingled in my plot, And marred it too! my life's sole aim and purpose! Didst thou but know what damned injuries, What foul unknightly shame and obloquy, His sire-whose name is wormwood to my mouth— That ever graced a beldam's midnight legend, SELECTION XXVIII. COL. WALSINGHAM-BARON HOHENDAHL-ALASCO.- -Shee. Walsingham. Nay! my good lord! you carry this too far: Alasco leader of a band of rebels! Impossible! Hohendahl. I have it here in proof; In mimicry of war. Wal. It cannot be ! By heaven it cannot be !—your spies deceive you. And when the fit is on, like other fools, Wal. Yes, it does, indeed! His father was my friend and fellow-soldier; Upon his country's altar. At my side He fell his wife and son, with his last breath, Of half its duties speedily curtailed; My wishes scarce kept pace with his advancement. Alasco. A subject, sir, unworthy of discussion, Wal. Slander, Alasco! Alas. Ay, sir, slander's abroad, And busy; few escape her-she can take All shapes and sometimes, from the blistered lips Of galled authority, will pour her slime On all who dare dispute the claims of pride, Or question the high privilege of oppression. Hoh. Your words seem pointed, sir; and splenetic. Alas. They are honest, my lord, and you well understand Wal. them. What means this heat, Alasco? Innocence Can fear no slander, and suspects no foe Alas. He's on his guard who knows his enemy, And innocence may safely trust her shield Against an open foe; but who's so mailed That slander shall not reach him?-coward calumny Wal. Alasco!-Count Alasco! Alas. (Returning.) Sir, your pleasure? Wal. "Tis now, methinks, some twenty years, or more, Since that brave man, your father, and my friend, While life scarce fluttered on his quivering lips, Consigned your youthful fortunes to my care. Alas. And nobly, sir, your generous spirit stands Acquitted of that trust. Wal. "Tis well!-perhaps I may assume I've been Alasco's friend. Alas. My friend !—my father!—say, my more than father! And let me still, with love and reverence, pay The duty of a son. Wal. A son of mine Must be the soul of loyalty and honor: Alas. Is this to me!-has slander gone so far, Wal. How suits it with the honor of Alasco, Alas. Have I done this? Wal. How must it soothe thy father's hovering shade, To hear his name, so long to glory dear, Profaned and sullied in sedition's mouth, The countersign of turbulence and treason? Alas. The proud repulse that suits a charge like this, Preferred by lips less reverenced, I forbear. Wal. Are you not stained With foul disloyalty—a blot indelible? Have you not practised on the senseless rabble, Fill disaffection breeds in every breast, And spawns rebellion? Alas. No! by heaven, not so! With most unworthy patience have I borne My country's ruin-seen an ancient state And to his interference owe our safety. Alas. Tyrants, proud lord, are never safe, nor should be; The ground is mined beneath them as they tread; Haunted by plots, cabals, conspiracies, Their lives are long convulsions, and they shake, Surrounded by their guards and garrisons. Hoh. Your patriot care, sir, would redress all wrongs That spring from harsh restraints of law and justice. Your virtue prompts you to make war on tyrants, And like another Brutus free your country. Alas. Why, if there were some slanderous tool of state— Some taunting, dull, unmannered deputy— Some district despot prompt to play the Tarquin, By heaven! I well could act the Roman part, And strike the brutal tyrant to the earth, Although he wore the mask of Hohendahl. Hoh. Ha! darest thou thus provoke me, insolent! (Draws.) Wal. (Advancing between them.) Rash boy, forbear! My lord, you are too hasty. Alas. This roof is your protection from my arm. Wal. Methinks, young man, a friend of mine might claim More reverence at your hands. Alas. Thy friend! by heaven! That sacred title might command my worship; Alas. Authority! |