Unnoted by that ruling Providence That guides the universe, yet stoops to clothe Oh, then, while grass and sand and leaf are cared for, Then break not, heart! the will of Heaven be thine! To escape the Marriage proposed by her Father, BLANCHE seeks the protection of the King, who recognizes her. He places her under the care of the DUCHESS DE ROHAN, hoping in time to wield her to his purpose. A sumptuous Apartment in the Chateau of the DUKE De ROHAN.—Enter BLANCHE, splendidly attired, followed by JAQUELINE. Jaq. Dear Mam'selle Blanche, to think that I should have found you at last, and through that beautiful little page! Blan. But, Armand! O my best Jaqueline, my friend! Thou hast seen Armand-and he knows I live He spoke of me as in our early days— Jaq. Ay, that he did, Mam'selle, and I am sure he loves you as much as ever. Blan. Bless thee, Jaqueline! [Embracing her fervently.] Oh, how one hour of joy Can brighten a whole age of agony ! The weary years that sundered us so long Have vanished; every pang that wrung my soul Is one of sunbeam only, and the future Blan. They said the king would visit me to-day, And to receive him decked me in these robes. Jaq. Would you not like me to seek Monsieur Armand ? Mam'selle Blanche? Blan. Do, if thou canst, my kind Jaqueline! Jaq. Oh, I'll find him if he's within the walls of Paris, be sure of that. I do so like to bring lovers together! [Exit. Blan. What thronging thoughts in quick succession chase Each other through my brain! I pace these halls As one who walks them in a dream; and Fear Enter the King. King. My Blanche! [Pauses and looks at her.] Why, this is well this rich attire Befits thy beauty royally-the emblem Of greater change that waits thee! Blan. 'Twas the duchess That willed it, and not I, my liege. King. Thy tone, Fair Blanche, is grave, yet should no sadness mar Its music. Now thy life shall be one pageant Of long delight! thine every hour a joy Blan. Sire, I have but one: restore Me to my childhood's home-to him, without King. A fate more bright awaits thee: hast thou not Divined it? Knowest thou not thou art beloved? Blan. I do, my liege. King. And by thy king? Blan. O Heaven! King. Fair Blanche, look not like the startled fawn By friendly echoes frighted. Listen, love: A splendid fate its golden page unrolls Before thee. In our court the proudest place Is thine. The queen shall yield thee her protection; All men shall bow to her whom Louis loves. Blan. Just Heaven! can such things be? or doth some demon Whisper these horrors in my dreaming ear? King. Sweet Blanche, the splendours that I proffer- Thou king, by passions vile unkinged! Thy words A kingly deed to snare a being helpless To rob her of the brightest diadem King. Nay, Blanche, Mar not thy beauty with this frigid bearing; Thy timid nature. Blan. Not weak, Weak thou art My liege, when roused by insult and by wrong! I tell thee, haughty king, presumptuous man! Becomes at once her glory and her might! King. Ah, Blanche! and is there no excuse for love? Blan. Thy love is but self-love! that first and worst Of passions-poisoned spring of every crimeWhich hath no attribute of perfect love. King. This to thy king? Blan. Art kingly in thy deeds? The star that shines so brightly on thy breast Is worthless if it shed no light within. The throne that lifts thee o'er thy fellow-men Should teach the virtues which alone can raise King. At thy feet let me implore Blan. Stand off! approach me not! King. Thou fearest me, then? Blan. Fear thee? Danger should be where fear is—I See none. [her. King. Woman! thou shalt not brave me thus! [Seizes. No human power can save thee-thou art mine! What are thy feeble struggles in my grasp? [me! Blan. [Sinking on her knees.] Spare me, my liege, spare King. It is thy turn To sue, and all in vain! Thou hast forgot That I am king, and thou hast no protector! Blan. [Starting up.] I have! I have !—One who for sakes me not One whom thou darest not brave! Unloose thy hold, [The King, awed by her manner, releases her. Thou art my sovereign; I a friendless subject— A claim thou hast rejected. Hast thou done right? Man, was it well to use Me thus?—that Virtue which no weapon needs She speaks I'm hushed; she spurns me, and I cower; ARMAND, having learned that BLANCHE lives, and discovering her retreat, here enters. A violent scene ensues between him and the King, which ends in his arrest. The King afterward relents, and ARMAND and BLANCHE are restored to each other. THE George H. Boker. BETROTHAL: A PLAY. The MARQUIS DI TIBURZZI, a decayed Nobleman, is deeply indebted to the rich Merchant MARSIO. To release himself from this indebtedness, and to restore his fallen fortunes, he is urged to give his Daughter Costanza in marriage to MARSIO, who seeks her hand. MARQUIS and MARCHIONESS DI TIBURZZI. Marquis. Why urge forever Marsio's rich estate? Wealth is not sovereign. Should his money sprout, And yield a thousand-fold, it could not change |