soul is unconquered; and if I reply at all to your reproaches, I will reply like a free man. Alex. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take the advantage of my power, to silence those with whom I deign to converse! Rob. I must, then, answer your question by another. How have you passed your life? Alex. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell you. Among the brave, I have been the bravest; among sovereigns, the noblest; among conquerors, the mightiest. Rob. And does not Fame speak of me, too? Was there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band? Was there everbut I scorn to boast. You yourself know that I have not been easily subdued. Alex. Still, what are you, but a robber—a base, dishonest robber? Rob. And what is a conqueror? Have not you, too, gone about the earth like an evil genius, blasting the fair fruits of peace and industry; plundering, ravaging, killing without law, without justice, merely to gratify an insatiable lust for dominion? All that I have done to a single district, with a hundred followers, you have done to whole nations, with a hundred thousand. If I have stripped individuals, you have ruined kings and princes. If I have burned a few hamlets, you have desolated the most flourishing kingdoms and cities of the earth. What is then the difference, but that as you were born a king, and I a private man, you have been able to become a mightier robber than I? Alex. But if I have taken like a king, I have given like a king. If I have subverted empires, I have founded greater. I have cherished arts, commerce, and philosophy. Rob. I, too, have freely given to the poor, what I took from the rich. I have established order and discipline among the most ferocious of mankind; and have stretched out my protecting arm over the oppressed. I know, indeed, little of the philosophy you talk of; but I believe neither you nor I shall ever atone to the world for the mischief we have done it. Alex. Leave me. - Take off his chains; and use him well. Are we, then, so much alike? Alexander to a robber?- Let me reflect. DR. AIKEN THE CONSTABLE DE BOURBON. BOURBON GONZALES. Bour. How now? A priest! what means this most unwelcome visit? Bour. Ay, what, indeed! Unless you come to soften down these stones Gon. Oh! sinful man! and is thy heart so hard, That I might easier move thy prison stones! Know, then, my mission death is near at hand! Bour. Go to go to! I have fought battles, father, Where death and I have met in full close contact, And parted, knowing we should meet again; Go prate to others about skulls and graves; Thou never didst in heat of combat stand, Or know what good acquaintance soldiers have With the pale scarecrow death! Gon. (Aside.) Ah! thinkest thou so? Hear me, thou hard of heart! They who go forth to battles, are led on With sprightly trumpets and shrill clamorous clarions ; And seems unto the conqueror's eager ear, And the infuriate populace shall clamor To heaven for lightnings on thy rebel head! Bour. Monks love not bells, which call them up to prayers E'en if the ugliest sound I e'er did hear— Thy raven voice-croak curses o'er my grave. Gon. What! death and shame! alike you heed them not! Then, mercy! use thy soft, persuasive arts, And melt this stubborn spirit! Be it known To you, my lord, the queen hath sent me hither. Bour. Then get thee hence again, foul, pandering priest! By heaven! I knew that cowl did cover o'er Some filthy secret, that the day dared not To pry into-out, thou unholy thing! Gon. Hold, madman! If for thy fame, if for thy warm heart's blood Thou wilt not hear me, listen in the name of France, tl ↑ country! I am a traitor, cast from out the arms Gon. You beat the air with idle words; no man Of twenty of Spain's lances, and your sword Bour. Ay, priest, it shall eternal heaven, it shall! Ere I have wreaked my fell desire, and made That on the day that Spain o'erflows its bounds, -on Gon. Now sword! That day is come, ay, and that very hour; That guards thy land are forty thousand men That bars their further course: they wait for thee: For thee, whose blood it pays with shameful chains, More shameful death; for thee, whom Charles of Spain 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, That men shall say De Bourbon is turned driveler, And rides to war in company with monks? 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. (Enter Jailer.) What ho! within. Behold this signet-ring! Strike off those chains, and get thee gone. And now follow. Bour. Ay, (Exit Jailer.) How 's this dost doubt me, Bourbon? First for thy habit's sake; and next, because Tarriest in danger in a foreign court, Than seekest that danger in thy country's wars. Gon. Thou art unarmed: there is my dagger; 't is The only weapon that I bear, lest fate 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, His sire whose name is wormwood to my mouth - No matter-get thee gone-I tarry here? That ever graced a beldam's midnight legend, And my revenge! now, Bourbon, heaven speed thee! KEMBLE |