upon the ground, and shed
Tears, tears of misery. O, the heavy day!
How shall I bear my life till Albert comes?
Ludolph! Erminia! Proofs! O heavy day!
Bring me some mourning weeds, that I may ‘tire
Myself, as fits one wailing her own death:
Cut off these curls, and brand this lilly hand,
And throw these jewels from my loathing sight,
Fetch me a missal, and a string of beads,
A cup of bitter’d water, and a crust,
I will confess, O holy Abbot How!
What is this? Auranthe! thou fool, dolt,
Whimpering idiot! up! up! act and quell!
I am safe! Coward! why am I in fear?
Albert! he cannot stickle, chew the cud
In such a fine extreme, impossible!
Who knocks? [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
On my poor brain, such cruel cruel sorrow,
That I should claim your pity! Art not well?
Albert.
Yes, lady, well.
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 gulph,
Which you can save me from, and therefore safe,
So trusting in thy love; that should not make
Thee pale, my Albert.
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 vexed 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
Of unachievable tasks; small rivulets
Then seem impassable.
Albert.
Do not cheat yourself
With hope that gloss of words, or suppliant action,
Or tears, or ravings, or self-threaten ‘d death,
Can alter my resolve.
Auranthe.
You make me tremble;
Not so much at your threats, as at your voice.
Untun’d. and harsh, and barren of all love.
Albert.
You suffocate me! Stop this devil’s parley,
And listen to me; know me once for all.
Auranthe.
I thought I did. Alas! I am deceiv’d.
Albert.
No, you are not deceiv’d. You took me for
A man detesting all inhuman crime;
And therefore kept from me your demon’s plot
Against Erminia. Silent? Be so still;
For ever! Speak no more; but hear my words,
Thy fate. Your safety I have bought to-day
By blazoning a lie, which in the dawn
I expiate with truth.
Auranthe.
O cruel traitor!
Albert.
For I would not set eyes upon thy shame;
I would not see thee dragg’d to death by the hair,
Penanc’d, and taunted on a scaffolding!
Tonight, upon the skirts of the blind wood
That blackens northward of these horrid towers,
I wait for you with horses. Choose your fate.
Farewell.
Auranthe.
Albert, you jest; I’m sure you must.
You, an ambitious Soldier! I, a Queen,
One who could say, Here, rule these Provinces!
Take tribute from those cities for thyself!
Empty these armouries, these treasuries,
Muster thy warlike thousands at a nod !
Go! conquer Italy!
Albert.
Auranthe, you have made
The whole world chaff to me. Your doom is fix’d.
Auranthe.
Out, villain! dastard!
Albert.
Look there to the door!
Who is it?
Auranthe.
Conrad, traitor!
Albert.
Let him in.
Enter CONRAD.
Do not affect amazement, hypocrite,
At seeing me in this chamber.
Conrad.
Auranthe?
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 to oppress
An innocent lady, gull an Emperor,
More generous to me than autumn’s sun
To ripening harvests.
Auranthe.
No more insult, sir!
Albert.
Aye, clutch your scabbard; but, for prudence sake,
Draw not the sword; ’twould