The Bride of Messina, Friedrich Schiller [e reader books .txt] 📗

eldest born
Thy master reverence owes.

BOHEMUND.
The world belongs
To him that wins!

CAJETAN.
Unmannered knave, give place!

BOHEMUND.
Our swords be measured first!

CAJETAN.
I find thee ever
A serpent in my path.

BOHEMUND.
Where'er I list
Thus will I meet thee!

CAJETAN.
Say, why cam'st thou hither
To spy? - -

BOHEMUND.
And thou to question and command?

CAJETAN.
To parley I disdain!

BOHEMUND.
Too much I grace thee
By words!

CAJETAN.
Thy hot, impetuous youth should bow
To reverend age.

BOHEMUND.
Older thou art - not braver.

BEATRICE (rushing from her place of concealment).
Alas! What mean these warlike men?

CAJETAN (to BOHEMUND).
I heed not
Thy threats and lofty mien.

BOHEMUND.
I serve a master
Better than thine.

BEATRICE.
Alas! Should he appear!

CAJETAN.
Thou liest! Don Manuel thousandfold excels.

BOHEMUND.
In every strife the wreath of victory decks
Don Caesar's brows!

BEATRICE.
Now he will come! Already
The hour is past!

CAJETAN.
'Tis peace, or thou shouldst know
My vengeance!

BOHEMUND.
Fear, not peace, thy arm refrains.

BEATRICE.
Oh! Were he thousand miles remote!

CAJETAN.
Thy looks
But move my scorn; the compact I obey.

BOHEMUND.
The coward's ready shield!

CAJETAN.
Come on! I follow.

BOHEMUND.
To arms!

BEATRICE (in the greatest agitation).
Their falchions gleam - the strife begins!
Ye heavenly powers, his steps refrain! Some snare
Throw round his feet, that in this hour of dread
He come not: all ye angels, late implored
To give him to my arms, reverse my prayers;
Far, far from hence convey the loved one!

[She runs into the alcove. At the moment when the two
Choruses are about to engage, DON MANUEL appears.

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 sanctity 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 shield 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!

BEATRICE.
Thou art - a shudder creeps through all my frame!

DON MANUEL.
Far other than I seemed; learn at last
To know me, Beatrice. Not the poor knight
Am I, the stranger and unknown, that loving
Taught thee to love; but what I am - my race -
My power - -

BEATRICE.
And art thou not Don Manuel? Speak -
Who art thou?

DON MANUEL.
Chief of all that bear the name,
I am Don Manuel, Prince of Messina!

BEATRICE.
Art thou Don Manuel, Don Caesar's brother?

DON MANUEL.
Don Caesar is my brother.

BEATRICE.
Is thy brother!

DON MANUEL.
What means this terror? Know'st thou, then, Don Caesar?
None other of my race?

BEATRICE.
Art thou Don Manuel,
That with thy brother liv'st in bitter strife
Of long inveterate hate?

DON MANUEL.
This very sun
Smiled on our glad accord! Yes, we are brothers!
Brothers in heart!

BEATRICE.
And reconciled? This day?

DON MANUEL.
What stirs this wild disorder? Hast thou known
Aught but our name? Say, hast thou told me all?
Is there no secret? Hast thou naught concealed?
Nothing disguised?

BEATRICE.
Thy words are dark; explain,
What shall I tell thee?

DON MANUEL.
Of thy mother naught
Hast thou e'er told; who is she? If in words
I paint her, bring her to thy sight - -

BEATRICE.
Thou know'st her!
And thou wert silent!

DON MANUEL.
If I know thy mother,
Horrors betide us both!

BEATRICE.
Oh, she is gracious
As the sun's orient beam! Yes! I behold her;
Fond memory wakes; - and from my bosom's depths
Her godlike presence rises to my view!
I see around her snowy neck descend
The tresses of her raven hair, that shade
The form of sculptured loveliness; I see
The pale, high-thoughted brow; the darkening glance
Of her large lustrous orbs; I hear the tones
Of soul-fraught sweetness!

DON MANUEL.
'Tis herself!

BEATRICE.
This day,
Perchance had give me to her arms, and knit
Our souls in everlasting love; - such bliss
I have renounced, yes! I have lost a mother
For thee!

DON MANUEL.
Console thyself, Messina's princess
Henceforth shall call thee daughter; to her feet
I lead thee; come - she waits. What