Thee to melt in the visionary air, Ere, by one grasp, this common hand is made When I have wept for sorrow; but methinks [Goes to the door, listens, and opens it. Enter ALBERT. Albert, I have been waiting for you here With such an aching heart, such swooning throbs Auranthe. You look not so, alas! But pale, as if you brought some heavy news. Albert. You know full well what makes me look so pale. Auranthe. No! Do I? Surely I am still to learn Some horror; all I know, this present, is I am near hustled to a dangerous gulf, Which you can save me from,-and therefore safe, Albert. It doth make me freeze. Auranthe. Why should it, love? Albert. You should not ask me that, But make your own heart monitor, and save Me the great pain of telling. You must know. Auranthe. Something has vext you, Albert. There are times When simplest things put on a sombre cast; A melancholy mood will haunt a man, Until most easy matters take the shape Albert. Do not cheat yourself With hope that gloss of words, or suppliant action, Can alter my resolve. Auranthe. You make me tremble; Not so much at your threats, as at your voice, Albert. You suffocate me! Stop this devil's parley, Auranthe. I thought I did. Alas! I am deceived. And therefore kept from me your demon's plot For ever! Speak no more; but hear my words, By blazoning a lie, which in the dawn I'll expiate with truth. Albert. For I would not set eyes upon thy shame; I would not see thee dragg'd to death by the hair, Penanced, and taunted on a scaffolding! To-night, upon the skirts of the blind wood That blackens northward of these horrid towers, Auranthe. Albert, you jest; I'm sure you must. One who could say,-here, rule these Provinces ! Albert. Auranthe, you have made The whole world chaff to me. You doom is fix'd. Auranthe. Out, villain! dastard ! Albert. Talk not with eyes, but speak your curses out Against me, who would sooner crush and grind A brace of toads, than league with them t' oppress More generous to me than autumn-sun Albert. Ay, clutch your scabbard; but, for prudence sake, Draw not the sword; 'twould make an uproar, Duke, You would not hear the end of. At nightfall Your lady sister, if I guess aright, Will leave this busy castle. You had best Take farewell too of worldly vanities. Auranthe (as he goes). Remorseless Albert! Cruel, cruel wretch ! Conrad. So, we must lick the dust? [She lets him out. I follow him. Conrad. How? Where? The plan of your escape ? Conrad. Be speedy, darkness! Till that comes, Fiends keep you company! [Exit. Auranthe. And you! And you! And all men! Vanish! [Retires to an inner apartment. SCENE II.-An Apartment in the Castle. Enter LUDOLPH and a Page. Page. Still very sick, my lord; but now I went, And there her women, in a mournful throng, Stood in the passage whispering; if any Moved, 'twas with careful steps, and hush'd as death: They bade me stop. Ludolph. Good fellow, once again Make soft inquiry; pr'ythee, be not stay'd By any hindrance, but with gentlest force Break through her weeping servants, till thou com'st If with thy mother's milk thou hast suck'd in Any divine eloquence-woo her ears With plaints for me, more tender than the voice To know thee sad thus, will unloose my tongue In mournful syllables. Let but my words reach Ludolph (solus). Auranthe! My life! Long have I loved thee, yet till now not loved : A substance or a shadow, wheresoe'er [Exit Page. Were clogg'd in some thick cloud? O, changeful Love, [Enter GERSA and Courtiers. [Exeunt Courtiers. Ludolph. It seems then, sir, you have found out the man You would confer with ;-me? |