Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine

Gentle as her I lost.

Then for his sake I'll willingly endure
The present misery. O my Romiero!
Wilt thou not trust my conduct for a day?-
Absent all night! To what a state of passion
His brooding fancy must have work'd his mind!
Alas, alas! 'tis his infirmity.

While Zorada is in this pitying and
forgiving mood, Romiero enters her
apartment, and craves pardon on
his knees. She wonders to hear him
speak of "fears" and "discoveries;"
and is at first alarmed lest he may
have found out Sebastian. But when
he alludes, in unintelligible terms, to
the concerted elopement of Maurice
and Beatrice, she is utterly lost in
amazement, and says,

"Thy words are wild, I do not comprehend them."

Thrown off his guard, he narrates the story, and tells her how glad a sight it was to him to find it was butBeatrice.

ro.

Zorada is indignant, but grants pardon, and the Nurse re-enters, busily arranging her basket, and then looking up, starts on seeing RomieHe puts his hand into the basket, and is puzzled and perplexed to find it full of delicate viandsand, concealed beneath leaves-a picture of Zorada. The Nurse prevaricates-and Romiero's madness comes back on him in fearful force-and he now knows that Zorada is criminal. Soon after he says to Guzman,

"I'll tell thee more When I have breath to speak. My dame, my wife, she whom I made

my wife,

Hath secret mysteries-hath a beldame

nurse

Hath one concealed to whom she sends-
O shame!—

Outrageous, frontless shame! the very
picture

Which I have gazed upon a thousand times,

Tears in my eyes, and blessings on my lips.

How little thought I once-vain, vain remembrance!

It is a thing most strange if she be honest!"

With the assistance of his everready friend, Guzman, Romiero, in his uttermost abasement, resolves

to bring out the secret from the Nurse-and the worthy old woman, doing her best to baffle all enquiries, happens to allude to a son of hers who, when an infant," with fair Zorada played like a brother."

Rom. (looking upon her).

Vile wretch, thou liest; but thou shalt tell the truth.

I'll press the breath from out thy cursed
body,

Unless thou tell me where thy son is hid!
Nurse. My son, my lord!

Rom. Ay, witch; I say thy son;
The ugliest hound the sun e'er looked

upon.

Tell me, and instantly, if thou wouldst breathe

Another moment. Tell me instantly."

Here he shakes her violently, while Guzman interposes, and Romiero struggling with him, falls to the ground, and Nurse escapes off the stage. On the ground he lies, cursing the Nurse's son

"This hateful, vulgar, shapeless creature―
Fy-Fy!”

whom he believes in his insanity to
be the paramour of Zorada!
"Not please her! Every thing will
please a woman

Who is bereft of virtue, gross, debased.
Yea, black deformity will be to her
A new and zestful object."

It was here intended to picture
the meanest, most abject, unnatural,
and worse than brutish, state of the
passion, and it is done; but is the
Does it come
object legitimate?
within the limits of tragedy, wide
as they are in nature and in Shak-
speare? Zorada enters—says a few
words-is accused of shameless sin

and wringing her hands, disappears from the presence of her infuriated husband.

But poor Zorada's visits to the Abbey have raised suspicions of her virtue, even in the minds of her faithful domestics. And here comes the catastrophe :

SCENE III.

An old Gothic Chapel: SEBASTIAN and ZORADA are discovered in earnest conversation.

Seb. And wilt thou bear these lessons in thy mind?

Zor. I shall forget to say my daily prayers

When I forget to think of thee, dear father!

And when I think of thee, thy words of kindness,

And words of counsel too, shall be remember'd.

Seb. Sweet child! stand back and let me look upon thee.

Ay; so she look'd.

O! it is sweet in thee

To look so like thy mother, when mine eyes
Must take their last impression, as a treasure
Here (his hand on his heart) to be cell'd for ever.
Thy varying face was wont to wear, yet never,
But in some sad or pensive mood, assumed
The likeness of that countenance ;-to me
Thy loveliest look; though, to all other eyes,
Thy mother's beauty never equall'd thine.

Zor. I still remember her; the sweetest face
That e'er I look'd upon. I oft recall it,
And strive to trace the features more distinctly.

Seb. Be good as she was; and when I am gone,
Never again let myst'ry and concealment,
Tempting the weakness of thy husband's nature,
Which but for this were noble, break the peace
And harmony of marriage.-For this oath-
This fatal oath-he was constrain'd to take it.
Then so consider it, nor let it rankle
Within thy gentle breast: that were perverse.
When I am gone, all will again be well,
And I will write to thee and comfort thee.

Our minds shall still hold intercourse, dear Zada,
And that should satisfy.

Zor.

Alas! alas!

When I shall read thy letters, my poor heart

Will but the more yearn after thee, dear father!
And pine to see thee. Suffer me to hope
That we shall meet again.-Call it not vain,
But suffer me to think-

Many looks

But spare my life.

Re-enter SEBASTIAN, while ROMIERO has, in his rage, strode to the front of the stage. ZORADA, uttering a shriek, runs to her father, and throws her veil over his face, endeavouring to push him back.

Seb. What! fly and leave thee in a madman's power?

I heard his stormy voice, and could not leave thee.

(ROMIERO turns round, and, running furiously at them, stabs ZORADA in aiming at SEBASTIAN, GUZMAN, who enters in alarm, followed by MAURICE and BEATRICE, endeavouring, in vain, to prevent him).

Guz. Hold! hold! thou wilt not strike a covered foe!

Zor. (still clinging round her father). Strike me again; I will not quit my hold. I'll cling to him; within my dying grasp

I'll hold him safe: thou wilt not kill him there.

(Sinking to the ground, while the veil drops from the face of SEBASTIAN.) Rom. Her father!

(Endeavouring to kneel, but prevented and supported by Nurse and BEATRICE.)
Nurse. Do not, dear murder'd child!

Bea. My dear, dear friend, forbear. He heeds thee not.
Guz. Romiero, dost thou hear her sad request?
Rom. I hear your voices murm'ring in mine ear
Confused and dismal. Words I comprehend not.
What have I done? Some dreadful thing, I fear.
It is delusion this! she is not slain :

Some horrible delusion.

Zor. (aside to SEBASTIAN). Fly, fly, dear father, while he is so wild,
He will not know and will not follow thee.

Seb. No, dearest child! let death come when it will,

I'll now receive it thankfully.

Romiero,

Thou wretched murd'rer of thy spotless wife

Romiero de Cardona!

Rom. Who is it calls me with that bitter voice?

(Gazing on him; and then with a violent gesture of despair).

I know thee;-yes, I know what I have done.

Guz. Forbear such wild and frantic sorrow now,

And speak to her while she is sensible,

And can receive thy words.

And looks imploringly.

She looks on thee,

Rom. Zorada, my Zorada! spotless saint!
I loved thee far beyond all earthly things,
But demons have been dealing with my soul,
And I have been thy tyrant and thy butcher,

A wretch bereft of reason.

Bea. She makes a sign as if she fain would speak,
But her parch'd tongue refuses. (TO MAURICE).
To moisten those dear lips and cool that brow.

She strives again to speak.

Fetch some water

[Exit MAURICE.

Rom. (stooping over her). What wouldst thou say? What means that gentle

motion ?

Zor. Come close to me; thou'rt pardon'd, Love, thou'rt pardon'd.

Rom. No, say that I am blasted, ruin'd, cursed, Hateful to God and man.

Re-enter MAURICE with water, which she tastes. Zor. Thou art not cursed; O no! then be more calm.

Look here he is my father: think of that.
Thou'rt pardon'd, Love; thou'rt pardon'd.

(Endeavouring to raise herself up).

[Dies.

Rom. She call'd me Love. Did she not call me so?

Guz. Yes, most endearingly.

Rom. And she is gone, and I have murder'd her!

(Throws himself on the body, and moaning piteously, then starts up in despair,

and looks furiously at SEBASTIAN.)

Thou restless, selfish, proud, rebellious spirit!
Thy pride has work'd our ruin, been our bane;

The bane of love so bless'd! Draw, wretched man,

I've sworn an oath, which I will sacred hold,
That when Sebastian and myself should meet,
He should to royal justice be deliver'd,

Or, failing that, one of the twain should die.

(Drawing his sword fiercely upon him).

Guz. (holding him back). Hold, madman, hold! thy rage is cruel, monstrous, Outraging holy nature.

Rom. (breaking from him). Off! think'st thou to restrain or bind despair With petty strength like thine ?-Proud rebel, draw.

I am thy daughter's murderer, and thou

Destroyer of us both.

Seb. Yes, Don Romiero, we are match'd in ruin,

And we will fight for that which cures despair.

He who shall gain it is the conqueror.

(They fight, each exposing himself rather than attacking his adversary.) Rom. No; to't in earnest, if thou would'st not have me

Deliver thee a felon to the law.

Defend thine honour, though thou scorn thy life.

(They fight again, and ROMIERO falls.)

I thank thee, brave Sebastian: O forgive
Harsh words that were but meant to urge contention.
Thou'rt brave and noble; so my heart still deem'd thee,
Though, by hard fate, compell'd to be thy foe.-
Come hither, Guzman: thou hast sworn no oath.
Give me thy hand; preserve Sebastian's life,
And lay me in the grave with my Zorada.

[The Curtain drops.

Printed by Ballantyne and Company, Paul's Work, Edinburgh.