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Raym. Villain, how now!
Bar.

No time is this for wrath!
I am but come to warn you against danger.
Hence with you to your hiding-place! One hour
From now, and you are in a dungeon!
The myrmidons of law have gained access
Within your doors, and now approach your chamber,
Armed with authority: fly, fly hence!
Or, better still, with me-give me your hand;
In wrath we parted, let us meet as friends!

Raym. Begone with you! off with your fawnings
vile;

I loathe them as your counsel → get you hence!
Bar. Even as you list, fair sir; so fare ye well!
[He goes out; a tumult is heard below
Raymond, wrapping himself in a cloak,
goes out by a private door.

SCENE III.

The interior of a gaming house-parties of gentlemen sit drinking wine in various parts of the room, others are playing at dice; Raymond, pale and with a contracted brow, playing with Count Siemar; Bartolin stands apart, as one of the servants of the establishment, observing Raymond, who has played all the evening with ill-luck.

Count S. [taking up money.] Despair not, Sir-
Fortune's a fickle goddess;

The next turn will be yours, "faint heart ne'er won:"
You know what says the proverb, "gold nor ladies."
Bar. [aside.] Most sapient Raymond; bible-read-
ing fool!

Raym. [reads.] "My daughter has consented to be yours; we will expect you at the appointed hour. Raymond is a penniless prodigal. Adieu."

[Turning to the address
"To the most honourable Count Siemar."
And thus writes Madame Vaumar to Count Siemar!
And this is Clara's faith! Oh most accursed-
Oh most unkind, perfidious of deceivers!
Some strange mistake has given to me the billet
Intended for my rival. But 't is well-
The veil at length is torn from my delusion!
I am a penniless prodigal! ha, ha!

A penniless prodigal! and they who robbed me,
Make this the plea for my abandonment!
I am their jest no doubt, their merriment!
A prodigal! Count Siemar is a saint,
And shall this night make elsewhere reckoning-
And Madame Vaumar shall hear news to-night,
Other than of her daughter's marriage-day!

[He wraps his cloak around him, and walks
sullenly away.

SCENE V.

Midnight—a dark and lonely street in the suburbs;
enler COUNT SIEMAR, singing in a low voice.
Come, pledge me in this cup of wine,

And let us have a joyful night,
Thou hast my heart, thy heart is mine -

Why should we part ere morning light!
Come, pledge me in this brimming cup—
Raymond [rushing upon him with his dagger.]
And she consented to be yours to-night!
Yours, traitor! take you this-and this-and this,
[He looks at a small billet. For a bride's portion! [He stabs him many times.]
Count S. [drawing his weapon.] Help! 'gainst a
murderer!

Is this the end of your religious fervour?

Within the dainty folds of this smooth paper
Lie words which, like some cabalistic signs,
Have fear and death in them! Ha, ha! Count Siemar; Ah, villain! is it you?
Thou keepest carelessly a lady's secret,
Else hadst thou never dropped this perfumed paper!

[Raymond again loses the game; he flings
down his last gold, hurls the dice upon
the floor, and starts up with furious
gestures.

Ten thousand curses fall upon all play!
Ten thousand curses on the dupes of it!
I am a ruined man, beyond retrieve-

I am a cursed, ruined, wretched man! [pours out wine.
[Aside.] Let this assist my purpose-fool, fool, fool!
Most senseless fool! But let me drink, and die!

[He drinks-Bartolin goes out; Raymond
throws on his cloak and rushes out also.

SCENE IV.

The porch, leading into the street ; enter Raymond, like one beside himself, with his hand on his dagger. Bartolin. [presenting the billet.] This sir, to yours, but to none other hand;

Thus were my orders, absolute Good night!

Help! help! or 'tis too late! [He falls. Raym. [striking him again.] Ye said I was a proI'll be as prodigal of thrusts as gold! digal! ay, ay -see then

Count S. [faintly.] Oh heavens, I am a murdered man; and none

Are near to help!

For Christ's sake, give me help!

God pardon me! for I have been a sinner! Watchmen. [in the distance.] We hear the cryand help is now at hand!

[Raymond sheaths his dagger, and passes

off in an opposite direction. Watchmen. The voice was in this quarter; and see there

Lies the poor murdered-yonder flies the murderer! [Part pursue Raymond; others surround Count Siemar.

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In the meantime give us your name, good sir,
And we will call your friends, or take you to them.
Count S. [very faintly.] I am Count Siemar! all
the city knows me —

My murderer is one Berthier, a base man!

2nd W. What does he say? 1st W.

It is the great Count Siemar!

2nd W. Oh, woful chance! 1st W. The prince will pay us richly For help we give — let's bear him to the palace! [They attempt to raise him. Count S. It is too late-too late! let me die here! [He dies. 1st W. If you have any message for the living, Speak it within my ear, most noble sir.

glen, and sounds of the gathering tem-
pest are heard in all the hollows of the
mountains.

Even like this outward tempest are the pangs
Of merciless remorse; but to the one
Succeeds a calm - no calm succeeds the other!
At nightfall I descried a lonely hut,
Scarcely discernible from rocks and stones,
But for its roof of black and shaggy furze,
And the wind-scattered smoke that showed the eye
"T was human habitation. Here about,
Among these crags, it lay. Another flash
Will show it through the darkness -

Ah, 't is here!

Gloomy and lone, a place of guilt it seems, [He listens for some time. Yet will I enter, for I wildly long He's dead! alas, all's over with him now! To see again a human countenance ! 2nd W. Ah, what a cruel murder— Upon his soul!

God have mercy

Enter 3rd WATCHMAN and DOCTOR. 1st W. He is stone-dead, poor soul! 2nd W. And 't is no other than the great Count Siemar!

Doctor. [after examining the body.] It is too late! there is no life within him

He has had seven wounds; the least were mortal!
Alas poor Count! But call ye the police,
And let the base assassin be pursued!

And this deformed body, carry ye
Unto the palace.

[They raise the body, and all move off.

SCENE VI.

Midnight-savage glen among mountains- thunder and lightning, with furious gusts of wind.

Enter RAYMOND, in a monk's habit.

For these seven days, like an ill-omened thing
Skulking in dens, and lonesome hideous caves,
I have sustained my life with roots and herbs,
And quenched my thirst with water of the rock;
Meet sustenance for a vile murderer!

Thus wandered Cain, through melancholy years,
A fugitive and vagabond! I too,
Thrust out from man, and the kind charities
That humanize, bear with me a black curse
That makes my being an enduring death!

[The lightning strikes a tree before him.
Death is a-nigh me! would that the fierce bolt,
That now has smitten yon branched, vigorous oak
From its rock-fortress, like a slender reed,
Crashing and shivering to the vale below,
Had smitten me in its stead, and in a moment
Ended my woe! The undefined future,
Once so terrific in its mystery,

Hath not more terror now than hath the present,
In its o'ermastering consciousness of guilt!

[The storm rages more fearfully; trees are
torn up, loose crags tumbled into the

[He knocks at the door, which is opened by an Old Man.

Raym. Father, I crave the shelter of your roof From this night's storm! Old Man.

Ay, enter, thou art welcome. [He goes in.

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Rest, if you can!
[The Old Man lights a small lamp, and
places it so as to throw the light on
the countenance of Raymond, and then
sits down beside him.

Raym. Father, I thank thee for thy courtesy;
But thy lamp's light I need not, and I fain
Would slumber unobserved.

Old Man.
A monarch's taste,
Who unobserved would hold his meditations!
Raym. Old man, a mighty sorrow weighs my
soul:
Thou hast not passed thy three-score years and ten,
Without experience of some human pangs
Respect my sorrow then, and give me peace!
Old Man. Sorrow, the wise have said, is born of sin;
And peace lies nowhere but within the grave.
Raym. Alas! thy words are true.
Old Man.

Bar. Thou sought'st thyself the shelter of my roof!
Raym. Lying dissembler, thou hast fooled my soul!
May heaven avenge my blackest sins upon thee,
Thou tempter unto evil!
Death is with me

The dimness of the grave doth seize on me!
[He falls back.
[Aside.] Mine enemy shall not behold the pangs
That rack my feeble being. I will die
In rigid, groanless silence!
Bar.

His hair is white;
The furrows of old age are on his cheeks,
And yet his years are few-oh, sin and sorrow,
What foes are ye to manly strength and beauty!-
See, his clenched hands—his rigid, stone-like brow-
His grinding jaws, and those thick-starting dews,
Like water-drops; these are the outward signs

Can'st not repent?— Of the great mortal struggle !

This is another way of getting peace,
And he who asketh shall receive, 't is said.
Raym. Some sins there are, repentance cannot cure!
Old Man. Yet they are few-'t is a long catalogue
Of pardonable sins. The dire offences

Raym. [Opening his eyes, which have a glazed, wild
look, and speaking like one in a dream.]

I hear their mournful voices! my heart faints
Alas, alas, I am undone- undone !
Darkness is with me, but mine ears are open!

Scarce number seven-thus the sin 'gainst know- Oh, was a human soul of so great worth

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'Gainst parents disobedience, which shall bring
Their grey hairs to the grave with bitter sorrow; —
Luring the innocent to black perdition; ·
Denying God, whether by word or deed ;-
And lastly, doing murder-these are deadly.
But who of them is guiltless, need not fear-
And these, my son, thou can'st not have committed-
Thou art too young for such black sins as these!

Raym. God knows my sin-I do confess to none.
Old Man. Thou dost belie thy habit-for ye teach
That a great virtue lieth in confession.

Raym. Cease, cease to trouble me-leave me alone!
Old Man. From me far be it to disturb thy soul,
I will withdraw.

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[He takes a small phial from his bosom.
Misery did arm me thus against myself –
I drink to death. Death, be a gracious friend
Unto a wretched soul that flies to thee!

[He drinks.
Soul, gird thyself, a journey lies before thee,
From which no human voice can call thee back!

[He lies down, closes his eyes, and remains
for some minutes motionless. Meantime
the Old Man comes forth as Bartolin,
and stands beside him.

Raym. Oh, hast thou found me here, mine enemy!

That angels mourn for it? My God, my God!
Hark once again-there is a wail in heaven!.
[The tempest without gains strength, and
low wailing sounds are heard, as of
spiritual voices.

Mourn, mourn celestial spirits,
Angels of God who have your thrones on high!
O cease your triumph, bright-eyed cherubim ;
Sons of the morning, let your light be dim;
And let there go through heaven a wailing cry!
One that was meant of your bright host to be,
Hath fallen, fallen!

A human soul hath lost its heavenward-way,
The cruel tempter hath received his prey!
O wretched soul, new-born to misery,
How art thou fallen!

Alas, how art thou fallen!

[The countenance of Raymond becomes more
ghastly, the convulsions of death succeed,
and he expires with a deep groan. Bar-
tolin walks out in silence; and, after a
pause, the hut is filled with a strain of sad
and low music, as if accompanied by the
following words:

A song of mourning let each one take up!
Take up a song of woe-

The spirit is gone forth to the unknown,
Yet mightier pangs to know!
Oh thou, that wast so beautiful in youth,
How is thy beauty dimmed!

We that in gladness hymned
The kindness of thy early love and truth,
Shall we not mourn for thee,

Lost from our company,

Oh erring human soul!

Take up a song of woe,

A song of mourning let each one begin!
The spirit is gone forth,

Stained with mortal sin!
Oh star, shorn of thy beams,
How is thy glory gone,
Since from the living streams
Thou burst, a shining one!
Oh star, shorn of thy beams

In blackness of thick darkness wandering now,
Through night that has no day,
Through pain that has no stay;
O'er seas that have no shore,
Wandering for evermore.

Lost, lost, art thou!

Oh spirit, vext with fears, by tempests tost,
Oh new-born heir of unthought misery!
Long shall we mourn for thee,
From our bright company,
For ever, ever lost!

THE cruel nature of Achzib was unmoved by the moral ruin before him; in him was neither pity nor

remorse.

"As the tree falleth," said he, “so it lieth; and there is no repentance in the grave!" While he thus spoke, the Pastor entered. “Grant me the shelter of thy roof," said he, "for one hour; and when the storm hath abated, I will pursue my journey."

"Whither dost thou journey?" inquired Achzib. "I seek a lost sheep of my Father's fold," replied the old man sorrowfully.

yet have found pardon with heaven."-And again the aged man covered his face and wept.

"I will leave thee to thy meditations," said Achzib, and went out. The Pastor combated his emotion, and approached the dead; he lifted the already whitened locks from the young man's forehead. "Oh my son, my son!" exclaimed he, in the words of the royal mourner, "would God, I had died for thee! Father, which art in heaven,'" said the old man, falling on his knees, "prayer availeth not for the dead; thy justice hath determined what is meet: but oh, by the tears our Lord shed for Lazarus; by the bloody sweat, the trembling spirit, and the mortal agony, I pray thee, if it be possible, pity and forgive! Oh, let the blood shed on Mount Calvary avail somewhat-let the prayer for the murderers avail-Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!

"If there was good in him, though less than an atom, remember it-I know thou wilt, for thou art merciful; and even in the midst of despair, I bless thee. I bless thee, for the remorse which lived in the heart of this sinner-I bless thee, for the suffering he endured-the poverty, the shame, the hunger, the nakedness, which would not let him forget thee!— I bless thee, that thou didst not leave his sin unpunished in this world! These grey hairs, this defaced youth; pain of body and anguish of mind, these, oh Father! I will accept as tokens of mercy. Thou knowest the strength of temptation, thou knowest the weakness of human nature. Oh, pity and forgive!"

"Behold!" said Achzib, lifting the cloak from the The Pastor rose from his knees; the cold grey face of the dead, "him whom thou seekest- Ray-light of the morning struggled faintly through the mond-who hath even now committed self-murder!" "My son! my son!" exclaimed the pastor falling upon his knees beside the body. "Alas, my son, hast thou gone forth to the eternal judgment with this mortal sin upon thy soul!" and he buried his face in his hands, and wept like a woman.

small window; but Achzib had not yet returned. Without waiting for his coming, the Pastor composed as well as he might, the rigidly convulsed limbs, and prepared the body for interment. Near the hut he found a hollow in the bosom of the mountain, scoped by nature as if for a grave; and made strong by "This man must have been dear unto thee!" said Christian love, thither he bore the dead. No man Achzib, interrupting the Pastor's sorrow. witnessed the deed: and the departing Pastor exclaimed, “I leave thee to man's oblivion, and God's mercy."

"Oh!" replied he, rising, “the human soul is very precious; and this man was dear to me, even as a

son!"

"He hath confessed to me much and grievous sin," said Achzib.

“Alas, he was a sinner, but I had hoped the day of grace was not over;" replied the Pastor," he was a great sinner, yet was not his nature evil; remorse followed crime, and heart-stinging repentance. God had not wholly abandoned him, and he who knows how we are tempted, knows also how to forgive!"

"Methinks," said Achzib, “thou would'st excuse the sinner; thou would'st destroy the distinction between virtue and vice."

"Nay, nay," replied the Pastor, "I know we are all sinners, and this young man the chiefest of them; but I dare not limit the mercy of God. I remember the thief on the cross; the publicans and sinners of the Gospel; and I hoped, that though he should not have found pardon from the justice of man, he might

Achzib was once more among men, looking for a victim. He heard of wars, and rumours of wars. He heard of a tyrannous ruler, and an oppressed people, and he said, "I will go there."

PHILIP OF MAINE.

PERSONS.

PHILIP OF MAINE.

THE LORD OF MAINE, HIS FATHER.
ACHZIB, A STRANGER; AFTERWARDS GASTON,
THE PATRIOT.

THE LORD OF KRONBERG.

IDA KRONBERG, HIS DAUGHTER.

BERTHA, HER COUSIN.

ARNOLD, HENRY, CONRAD, AND ROLAND, LEAD

ERS OF THE PEOPLE.

Lord of K. What! dost thou ask my daughter as the payment

Of such poor service, as a peasant lad

MOTHER SCHWARTZ, THE FORGE-WOMAN; JAN, Had done for half a guilder!

HER SON, AND HANS CLEF, LEADERS OF THE
RABBLE.

Phil. of M.

Good, my lord,

If you forget the service, so do ICOUNTS NICHOLAS, SEGBERT, AND FABIAN, AD- But not that we are foes!

HERENTS OF LORD KRONBERG.

TERS.

Lord of K.

Audacious rebel, SOLDIERS, AND OTHER SUBORDINATE CHARAC- Wouldst beard me to my face! I tell thee, traitor, I have mine eyes upon thee, and thy father — I know wherefore ye harbour in your walls The disaffected rabble-why thon comest To ask alliance with me, then to beard me! Phil. of M. My lord, this quarrel was not of my seeking.

ACT L-SCENE I.

A magnificent room in the Castle of Kronberg. Enter the LORD OF KRONBERG, and PHILIP OF MAINE.

Lord of Kronberg. Good, good! you seek alliance with my house!

Philip of Maine. I do, my lord.

Lord of K.

Phil. of M.

Lord of K. Too long I have forborne! I know
your views-

I know what your ambition lusteth after:
Words you can give, where words weigh more than
gold;

What next, fair sir! Can stir up the fierce spirit of the people;
The honour
Call them oppressed, poor, wronged, and injured peo-

Of your fair daughter's hand I ask, nought more.
Lord of K. Nought to maintain her on! no mar-
riage dower-

No broad lands, as a daughter's appanage?

ple!

Phil. of M. I came not now as pleader of their

cause,

Or, to your face, I'd tell you, you're a tyrant!

Phil. of M. I asked her, for herself! Broad lands Think but of those poor workers in the loom,

and dower

Came not within my count.

Lord of K.
True, true, most true!
The heir of Maine doth count so little gold,
He wots not of its worth! A wife, young man,
Would add some items to your yearly charges!
Phil. of M. Too well I know the fortunes of our
house

Are not, what once they were-scoff not, my lord,
An emperor's daughter has allied with us;
And 't is an ancient, honourable house:
I will retrieve its fortunes! good my lord,
My youth is in its prime the wars are open-
"I was by the strong right hand, we won our honours!
Lord of K. Wouldst be a wooer, ay? wouldst
woo my daughter?

All dying in your streets, who might have earned
A decent maintenance, save for your edict―
Listen to their demands, they are but just !
Lord of K. Wouldst thou dictate this, that, and

the other to me?—

Demand my daughter first, then rule the state?
Phil. of M. Who're they that cry for bread morn-

ing and night,

Whom you refuse a morsel? Your poor burghers, Whose fathers fought for you! They are not stones, That they should not complain! Lord of K. "Tis such as you, With busy meddling, that disturb their souls! But get thee hence! and let me counsel thee— Go marry thee, to some poor plodder's daughter Will keep your house in order, mend thy hose, Art worth a sword? canst draw one? canst thou And patch the old man's doublet! ride? Canst hunt? canst hold a hawk? canst read? canst That noble, good old lord, or by the gods, write?

I wot not of a roof to your old house,

Phil. of M.

I shall forget myself!
Lord of K.

Name him not;

Hence with thee, prating fool!

And yet thou'dst woo— - wouldst take a wife, for- Hence with thee, ere I summon one, whose trade

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Is to chastise young insolence like thine!

Phil. of M. A day may come, when we will count
for this!
[He goes out.
Lord of K. And this is he, to whom the people look
As to a new Messiah! Heaven and earth!
Am I to stand girt round with armed men,
And thus be threatened? What are dungeons for,
But to confine such rebels! Out upon me,
To let such meddlers loose! Marry my daughter!
Nor have I asked By Jove, I'll marry him to the strongest chains
Within my deepest dungeon!

Upstart fool! Wouldst match thyself with me!

Phil. of M.

This honour uninvited! Your own mouth
Swore to vouchsafe whate'er my tongue should crave,
For certain trivial service, at my rating;
At yours,- for loyalty beyond all price!

Those old dues, Which as my vassals they have long withstood, I will demand, and lay strong hold on them

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