Do I again behold thee! hear my name Uttered by thy sweet voice, whose music dwells Even on my mountain couch with happy dreams. Your cloak is drenched. Has it then rained so hard? ZANTH. You must be cold. HERN. 'Tis nothing. ZANTH. Nay, let me dry thy mantle. Thou'rt cold I'm sure, let me have fire to cheer thee. Here resides a power To mock the elements, or storm for storm Feel this wild pulse. These water-drops refresh me. ZANTH. (taking his cloak) But this encumbers you-and this-(his sword)-I'll take them. HERN. Nay, not my good sword, unless for jealousyOf one more friend, constant and true as thou art A friend well proved and trusty. Your Duke-your LordYour Lord so named abroad by every voice Where is he? ZANTH. Speak not of him now. This hour Belongs to us. HERN. This hour-alas! it may be, This and no more—a bright and starry hour In one long night of darkness-desolation! (X's to L.) HERN. (bitterly) Yet this hour I must enjoy, Be proud to steal one hour of love from him Who robs me of my life to come. ZANTH. Nay, calm thee. Good Josepha, dry his mantle. (Exit JOSEPHA with mantle, R. 2 E. ZANTH. (takes a seat L. of table and beckons HERNANI) Come, come and sit by me. HERN. The Duke is absent then? ZANTH. Nay, think not of him! (rising and coming down c.) HERN. Not think of him! You mook me. Hath he not A burning love for thee? Have I not seen His withered lips imprint on thine a kiss? ZANTH. 'Twas a kinsman's kiss, And such as fathers to their children give. HERN. A kiss thou art unschooled in such a kiss "Twould madden me to think thou could'st requite. I cry you mercy. I offend, perhaps, His blooming bride. You doubtless wed him freely. HERN. Not with thy own good-will? Dost, think the lunatic Will forge thy chains of iron? ZANTH. The King, 'tis said, will have it so. HERN. (surprised and much excited) The King! the King! A heavier, bitterer curse Than all I yet have breathed, now light on him. Condemned by his! Sworn and relentless foes, ZANTH. You terrify me. HERN. Hear me. The man to whom foul tyranny Would link thy youth, is a grandee, rich, powerful. His youth is past-long past. Thy heart's free throb Of honest sympathy can ne'er be his. What then? Thou'lt be a Duchess! move in pageants, Bravely apparell'd as the Queen herself Thy sphere a court-thy home a palace! Am poor, in woods and wilds I dwell, And live as lives the tiger. It may chance I have my blazon of nobility, I Tho' a brave father's blood may somewhat rust it. In the black scaffold-cloth enveloped long, Which this good sword may one day bring to light. ZANTH. I'll follow thee. HERN. Thou wilt? Rash maid! Thou'lt share a lot like mine! For noble as I am by birth-by nature The friend of man, the foe alone of tyrants, I am proclaimed an outlaw. Throughout Spain Of savage rocks, I stood at bay And won her lusty mountaineers in troops To stand by me-This horn now musters them, HERN. The Duke will have thee pillowed On softest down! The Duke lives proud in favour, His name untarnished—his escutcheon bright— ZANTH. (eagerly) I'll follow thee. To-morrow will we fly. I owe my life to thee. I am thine. The spell that won thee Three thousand followers, hath won me too. With thee I'll wander, or with thee abide. To see thee, hear thee, know and share thy fortunes, Is all I ask. Oh! we will never part. When thy last footstep hath escaped my ear HERN. Was I reserved for this! unlooked-for-hour! Such love is only woman's; it hath changed My tyrant heart, abashed by selfish will, And now I shudder at my rash demand— For yet you know not half the history (Here DON CARLOS breaks from the closet, L., with a violent crash. ZANTHE shrieks, and clings to HERNANI.) CARL. Your history's too long. You that are fond Of air, should have more mercy for a man, Stifled as I have been. ZANTH. I know not! Sure some robber. CARL. Softly, Donna My crippled limbs have had such lame amends That who your favoured visitor may be "Twere rash to guess at; yet I scarcely think HERN. (X's to c.) What seek you here? CARL. Nay, every man His turn. I have, with all due courtesy, Allowed you yours, and claim requital, signor. That you should love this lady's bright black eyes I marvel not, for by St. Dominick I love them too; and could not chuse but know The youth who found o’nights such prompt admittance HERN. I'd have your curiosity provoke No further knowledge of him. Hence! Your pardon. Of you I know enough, but for the lady (x's c.) ZANTH. I know you not. How got you here admittance? But not so well disposed of. HERN. Insolent! CARL. If thus you swell, keep clear of yonder closet; You would explode as quickly there HERN. As now My sword would quit its scabbard. (draws) ZANTH. Hernani! hold! For my sake! (throws herself between them.) HERN. (puts her across to his L.) 'Tis an ill-placed quarrel, sir; An honest foe in fitter time will end it. Your name! "Tis a secret Marr'd in its purpose by a rash disclosure, CARL. Brave talking! Your vengeance in contingency is deadly, HERN. No more-defend yourself. (they draw, ZANTHE in despair-loud knocking heard at the D. L. C.) ZANTH. We are surprised-Oh! heavens ; The combatants pause-JOSEPHA enters at the door R. 2 E., in great alarm. HERN. Who knocks so loud? JOSEP. Oh, madam! Fatal chance! It is the Duke returned. ZANTH. The Duke! I'm lost! HERN. This way, we'll fly. (x's to R. C.) JOSEP. 'Tis guarded from without. LEO. (without L. c.) Admit me, Zanthe. HERN. (to JOSEPHA, who is going to the door) Woman, stay. What! two such panting spirits! we should shake And here I stand. HERN. This outrage shall o'ertake you. HERN. Are you then mad? CARL. (more imperatively) Open the door. ZANTH. Mercy! The door, L. C., is opened, and enter DON LEO DE SYLVA, followed by ATTENDANTS with lights; he is dressed in black, and wears the Order of the Golden Fleece. LEO. So, my fair cousin, you've your midnight audience, B |