The Bride of Messina, and On the Use of the Chorus in Tragedy - LightNovelsOnl.com
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DON MANUEL, the Chorus.
DON MANUEL.
What do I see!
First Chorus to the Second (CAJETAN, BERENGAR, MANFRED).
Come on! Come on!
Second Chorus (BOHEMUND, ROGER, HIPPOLYTE).
Down with them!
DON MANUEL (stepping between them with drawn sword).
Hold!
CAJETAN.
'Tis the prince!
BOHEMUND.
Be still!
DON MANUEL.
I stretch him dead Upon this verdant turf that with one glance Of scorn prolongs the strife, or threats his foe!
Why rage ye thus? What maddening fiend impels To blow the flames of ancient hate anew, Forever reconciled? Say, who began The conflict? Speak----
First Chorus (CAJETAN, BERENGAR).
My prince, we stood----
Second Chorus (ROGER, BOHEMUND) interrupting them.
They came
DON MANUEL (to the First Chorus).
Speak thou!
First Chorus (CAJETAN).
With wreaths adorned, in festal train, We bore the bridal gifts; no thought of ill Disturbed our peaceful way; composed forever With holy pledge of love we deemed your strife, And trusting came; when here in rude array Of arms encamped they stood, and loud defied us!
DON MANUEL.
Slave! Is no refuge safe? Shall discord thus Profane the bower of virgin innocence, The home of sanct.i.ty and peace?
[To the Second Chorus.
Retire-- Your warlike presence ill beseems; away!
I would be private.
[They hesitate.
In your master's name I give command; our souls are one, our lips Declare each other's thoughts; begone!
[To the First Chorus.
Remain!
And guard the entrance.
BOHEMUND.
So! What next? Our masters Are reconciled; that's plain; and less he wins Of thanks than peril, that with busy zeal In princely quarrel stirs; for when of strife His mightiness aweary feels, of guilt He throws the red-dyed mantle unconcerned On his poor follower's luckless head, and stands Arrayed in virtue's robes! So let them end E'en as they will their brawls, I hold it best That we obey.
[Exit Second Chorus. The first withdraws to the back of the stage; at the same moment BEATRICE rushes forward, and throws herself into DON MANUEL'S arms.
BEATRICE.
'Tis thou! Ah! cruel one, Again I see thee--clasp thee--long appalled, To thousand ills a prey, trembling I languish For thy return: no more--in thy loved arms I am at peace, nor think of dangers past, Thy breast my s.h.i.+eld from every threatening harm.
Quick! Let us fly! they see us not!--away!
Nor lose the moment.
Ha! Thy looks affright me!
Thy sullen, cold reserve! Thou tear'st thyself Impatient from my circling arms, I know thee No more! Is this Don Manuel? My beloved?
My husband?
DON MANUEL.
Beatrice!
BEATRICE.
No words! The moment Is precious! Haste.
DON MANUEL.
Yet tell me----
BEATRICE.
Quick! Away!
Ere those fierce men return.
DON MANUEL.
Be calm, for naught Shall trouble thee of ill.
BEATRICE.
Oh, fly! alas, Thou know'st them not!
DON MANUEL.
Protected by this arm Canst thou fear aught?
BEATRICE.
Oh, trust me; mighty men Are here!
DON MANUEL.
Beloved! mightier none than I!
BEATRICE.
And wouldst thou brave this warlike host alone?
DON MANUEL.
Alone! the men thou fear'st----
BEATRICE.
Thou know'st them not, Nor whom they serve.
DON MANUEL.
Myself! I am their lord!
