1st. Gen. [singing: Down, down with the sorrows And troubles of earth! For what is our life made, Laugh and be gay; Love's a deceiver, He'll cheat if he can; Sweet innocent woman Is wiser than man! Trust her not, trust her not, Who wins her may gather "Give back," she cried, "mine only one, Have not sorrowed sore!" But the depths of hell made answer low, "He's our's for evermore!" Raym. Sir, you have cast a gloom upon our mirth. 3d Gen. [flourishing his glass and singing: Love himself would die without thee! Sweet Nerisse! thou art so fair; Art so dowered with queenly graces, Enter SERVANT-to Raymond. There is a lady, sir, doth crave admittance. Raym. Dost know her? If she be the dancing girl Who was here yesternight, let her come in. Serv. I do not know her, sir. She is close veiled. Gen. Let her come in, Nerisse wore a veil! [Enter Madame Berthier, throwing back her veil. Mad. B. Peace with your idle jests!-I am not one Come to partake your sinful revelries! Raym. [endeavouring to put her back.] Shame on you, Madame Berthier, - 't is unseemly! Mad. B. I will not be thrust back! What are these men Ungracious son, is this thy love and duty! [Weeps. Raym. Myself behind stern silence for repose? Mad. B. Raymond, thou wast my son-my only My life's life, and the glory of my age Unjust unto thy mother! Raym. Thou 'rt unjust Mad. B. Alas, my son, Thou dost deceive thyself. This is not joy, Raym. Alas, my mother, I have done thee wrong; Mad. B. My son, my dear, dear son, thou wilt re turn Thou wilt make glad once more thy father's place- [She embraces him and weeps. Raym. Now mother rest awhile, thou need'st repose; These rooms are still, and I will send attendants Mad. B. I go not back without thee! I will not leave thee in the cruel power Of him that has no mercy - that vile man, thou must not! I will hence; Bleeds with a cureless sorrow. Raym. Mother, thou shalt not leave me thus! Remain thou here with me, an honoured guest. Come, I will lead thee to a fitter chamber, Where thou shalt calm thy soul and rest thy frame. SCENE IV. [They go out. Several months afterwards— evening — pleasure gar- Raym. This is a fairy place! none are seen here Clara. They are delicious gardens! but most fair Mad. B. Thy friend! call him thy foe, thy cruel Nor the dark trees, nor any thing but you! foe! Raym. My mother, let our parting be in peace— Now fare thee well! Raym. Sweet Clara, love makes up the beautiful whole Of thy delightful being! thou hast never Known what it is to carry a sad heart Clara. Can you have known it? you, the rich, the witty You, that they ever call the fortunate! SCENE V. An alcove in a sequestered part of the garden. Enter RAYMOND, and the PASTOR. Raym. I have, my fair one! But come, sing to me; I am like Saul, the spirit of woe is on me, And thou must charm it hence with thy sweet songs. Clara. Oh that I were a Muse, that I could put The very soul of music into words! Raym. Thou art a woman -thou art mine own Bearing back with me a most sad conviction, love, My glorious Clara, brighter than a Muse! There's a cloud on thy brow, love, Oh smile it away! Smile, dearest and brightest! This aspect of care? Thou hast sworn that my love If it blessed thee before, They tell me thou art not And that I must wake From my beautiful dream: But thy goodness they know not Thou art faithful to me! Raym. Well, sir? Past. And having seen, I do depart, That thou art in the way that leads to death! Raym. The privilege of an old friend allows You to speak thus nothing beside would give it! Past. I should regard it as the sacred duty Of my high office, to warn any man Of his soul's danger; and think not that thou, Shalt pass unwarned! No, Raymond, I conjure thee I charge thee not with sin,-be thine own conscience In nought have I offended? Past. None, my son! All, all have sinned-all, all have fallen short Of the full measure of their righteousness! But this cannot avail thee couldst thou plead Thus in the awful day, before thy judge? Thou must abjure all sin - must cleanse thy heart And make thy life pure, ere thou canst look up With any hope that there is pardon for thee! More joy is there in heaven when one poor sinner Returns to God, than over many just, Raym. [starting up.] "Tis he! 't is he! I know Who do not need forgiveness! Oh, come back, him now indeed! Clara. Who, Raymond? speak! and why art thou so pale? Raym. Dost see him, Clara! him in the black cloak, That solemn-looking man? Clara. "Tis but a pastor; I saw him, when we entered, gaze on usBut there is nothing strange in such a thing. Though they look grave, they are most pleasant men. They laugh and sing; they are but stern outside We know a many very worthy pastors. Raym. This is not such a one — thou know'st him not! Hither he has not come for revelry Come back, poor prodigal, to thy father's arms! Raym. My more than father! there is one fair creature, I know him well; for he was my youth's guardian! Still unpolluted by all baser worship— Clara. You need not fear him, he is not so now! Raym. Thus dost thou speak, after the mighty woe That I have heaped upon thee! Is this love, Or is it some deep curse, disguised as love? Past. My Raymond, it is thus a Christian man Forgives his erring brother. And thou, thou Wast as a first-born child unto my soul! Raym. Let me begone! I am so bowed with shameSo utterly unworthy - let me go! Past. Yes, let us go; this gaudy place of sin Say that I am engaged, and cannot see him— Serv. I told him this, but it would not suffice him; He will not leave the house unless he sees you. Mad. V. Go then and tell him, I'll be down anon. [Servant goes out. These usurers will sure dictate the terms Clara. He has had patience, mother, wondrous patience! Mad. V. Pshaw, silly girl, he 'll make us pay for it! Clara. And yet we go on, ever spending more — Far better were it to have paid this Jew, Than to have spent a thousand crowns, my mother, For one night's masquerade! Mad, V. You simple child, That never had the commonest worldly wisdom It is but wasting words to talk with you! Clara. Well, mother dear, you have enough for both! [Madame Vaumar goes out. [After a pause, Clara rises and adjusts her hair before a mirror, singing the while. Thy love may be rich and great, Mine is more to me! Gold it is gives love its weight Unto one like thee. My love, riding to the fight, By his side looks dim. My love in the minstrel's song Has won golden fame And you do look so stern —so darkly stern! Raym. Not stern, but sad, and sorrowfully earnest. Heaven is my witness, sinner as I am, With what sincere conviction I conjure thee To flee from folly, wherein lieth death! Thou tender heart, let not the curse come down On both of us :- for me there is no hope; Yet, though so black with guilt, I still revere The virtuous--I still reverence purityAnd, for the unstained goodness of thy soul, Love thee far better than thy outward charms; And were I but a worthy, guiltless man, How would I take thee to my bounding heart, And bless my God for so great happiness! But thy fate shall not be allied to mine I will not drag thee with me to the pit! I thought I had been judged -Oh, what a sum Raym. I will, I will, and thou shalt comfort her! Wailing was there, and gnashing of the teeth, And every outward sign that tokeneth woe. "Abide thou here!" said one, whose word seemed fate, Abide thou here with her whom thou hast drawn From the high beauty of her innocence!" Clara. Ah, gracious God! 't is like a frightful warning. Raym. This was my dream. Not indistinct and vague Like common dreams, but bearing the impress And yet, dear Raymond, it was but a dream! Raym. Thus do we ever strive to put back truth: 'T was but a dream, we say I tell thee, Clara, It was a dream that doth foreshow my doom! Enter MADAME VAUMAR, in great agitation. Mad. V. Give me your diamonds, Clara, they must go Clara. If thou must perish, I will perish with To satisfy this avaricious Jew: thee Clara. My diamonds! those that Raymond gave unto me! |