A Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate The Stronger Passions of the Mind, Volume Three/Orra Act 1
ORRA.
ACT I.
SCENE I.—An open Space before the Walls of a Castle, with wild Mountains beyond it; enter Glottenbal, armed as from the Lists, but bareheaded and in Disorder, and his Arms soiled with Earth or Sand, which an Attendant is now and then brushing off, whilst another follows bearing his Helmet; with him enters Maurice, followed by Rudigere, who is also armed, and keeps by himself, pacing to and fro at the bottom of the Stage, whilst the others come forward.
Glottenbal (speaking as he enters, loud and boastingly.)
Aye, let him triumph in his paltry honours,
Won by mere trick and accident. Good faith!
It were a shame to call it strength or skill.
Were it not, Rudigere?
(Calling to Rudigere, who answers not.)
Maur. His brow is dark, his tongue is lock'd, my Lord;
There come no words from him; he bears it not
So manfully as thou dost, noble Glottenbal.
Glot. Fy on't! I mind it not.
Maur. And wherefore should'st thou? This same Theobald,
Count and co-burgher—mixture most unseemly
Of base and noble,—know we not right well
What powers assist him? Mark'd you not, my Lord,
How he did turn him to the witchy north,
When first he mounted; making his fierce steed,
That paw'd and rear'd and shook its harness'd neck
In generous pride, bend meekly to the earth
Its mained crest, like one who made obeisance?
Glot. Ha! did'st thou really see it?
Maur.Yes, brave Glottenbal,
I did right truly; and besides myself,
Many observ'd it.
Glot. Then 'tis manifest
How all this foil hath been. Who e'er before
Saw one with such advantage of the field,
Lose it so shamefully? By my good fay!
Barring foul play and other dev'lish turns,
I'd keep my courser's back with any Lord,
Or Knight, or Squire that e'er bestrode a steed.
Think'st thou not, honest Maurice, that I could?
Maur. Who doubts it, good my Lord? This Falkenstein
Is but a clown to you.
Glot. Well let him boast.
Boasting I scorn; but I will shortly shew him
What these good arms, with no foul play against
them,
Can honestly atchieve.
Maur. Yes, good my Lord; but chuse you well your day:
A moonless Friday luck did never bring
To honest combatant.
Glot. Ha! blessing on thee! I ne'er thought of this:
Now it is clear how our mischance befell.
Be sure thou tell to every one thou meet'st,
Friday and a dark moon suit Theobald.
Ho there! Sir Rudigere! hear'st thou not this?
Rud. (as he goes off, aside to Maurice)
Flatter the fool a while and let me go,
I cannot join thee now.[Exit.
Glot. (looking after Rudigere)
Is he so crest-fallen?
Maur. He lacks your noble spirit.
Glot. Fy upon't!
I heed it not. Yet, by my sword and spurs!
'Twas a foul turn, that for my rival earn'd
A branch of victory from Orra's hand.
Maur. Aye, foul indeed! My blood boil'd high to see it.
Look where he proudly comes.
Enter Theobald arm'd, with Attendants, having a green sprig stuck in his helmet.
Glot. (going up to Theobald)
Comest thou to face me so? Audacious Burgher!
The Lady Orra's favour suits thee not,
Tho' for a time thou hast upon me gain'd
A seeming 'vantage.
Theo. A seeming 'vantage!—Then it is not true,
That thou, unhors'd, layd'st rolling in the dust,
Asking for quarter?—Let me crave thy pardon;
Some strange delusion hung upon our sight
That we believed it so.
Glot.Off with thy taunts!
And pull that sprig from its audacious perch:
The favour of a Dame too high for thee.
Theo. Too high indeed; and had'st thou also added,
Too good, too fair, I had assented to it.
Yet, be it known unto your courteous worth,
That were this sprig a Queen's gift, or received
From the brown hand of some poor mountain maid;
Yea, or bestow'd upon my rambling head,
As in the hairy sides of brouzing kid
The wild rose sticks a spray, unprized, unbidden,
I would not give it thee.
Glot. Dost thou so face me out? Then I will have it. (Snatching at it with rage.)
Enter Hartman.
Hart. (separating them)
What! Malice! after fighting in the lists
As noble courteous knights !
Glot. (to Hartman) Go, paltry Banneret! Such friends as thou
Become such Lords as he, whose ruined state
Seeks the base fellowship of restless burghers;
Thinking to humble still, with envious spite
The great and noble houses of the land.
I know ye well, and I defy you both,
With all your damned witchery to-boot,
[Exit grumbling, followed by Maurice, &c.
Manent Theobald and Hartman.
Theo. How fierce the creature is, and full of folly!
Like a shent cur to his own door retired,
That bristles up his furious back, and there
Each passenger annoys.—And this is he,
Whom sordid and ambitious Hughobert,
The guardian in the selfish father sunk,
Destines for Orra's husband.—O foul shame!
The carrion-crow and royal eagle join'd,
Make not so cross a match.—But think'st thou, Hartman,
She will submit to it?
Hart. That, may be as thou pleasest, Falkenstein.
Theo. Away with mockery!
Hart.I mock thee not.
Theo. Nay, Banneret, thou dost. Saving this favour,
Which every victor in these listed combats
From Ladies' hands receive, nor then regard
As more than due and stated courtesy,
She ne'er hath honour'd me with word or look
Such hope to warrant.
Hart.Wait not thou for looks.
Theo. Thou would'st not have me to a Dame like this,
With rich domains and titled rights encompass'd,
These simple limbs, girt in their soldier's gear,
My barren hills and ruin'd tower present,
And say, "Accept—these will I nobly give
In fair exchange for thee and all thy wealth."
No, Rudolph, Hartman, woo the maid thyself,
If thou hast courage for it.
Hart. Yes, Theobald of Falkenstein, I will,
And win her too; but all for thy behoof.
And when I do present, as thou hast said,
Those simple limbs, girt in their soldier's geer,
Adding thy barren hills and ruin'd tower,
With some few items more of gen'rous worth
And native sense and manly fortitude,
I'll give her in return for all that she
Or any maid can in such barter yield,
Its fair and ample worth.
Theo. So dost thou reckon.
Hart. And so will Orra. Do not shake thy head.
I know the maid: for still she has received me
As one who knew her noble father well,
And in the bloody field in which he died
Fought by his side with kind familiarity:
And her stern guardian, viewing these grey hairs
And this rough visage with no jealous eye,
Hath still admitted it.I'll woo her for thee.
Theo. I do in truth believe thou mean'st me well.
Hart. And this is all thou say'st? Cold frozen words!
What has bewitch'd thee, man? Is she not fair?
Theo. O fair indeed as woman need be form'd
To please and be belov'd! Tho', to speak honestly,
I've fairer seen; yet such a form as Orra's
For ever in my busy fancy dwells,
Whene'er I think of wiving my lone state.
It is not this; she has too many lures;
Why wilt thou urge me on to meet her scorn?
I am not worthy of her.
Hart. (pushing him away with gentle anger)
Go to! I praised thy modesty short-while,
And now with dull and senseless perseverance,
Thou would'st o'erlay me with it. Go thy ways!
If thro' thy fault, thus shrinking from the onset,
She should with this untoward cub be matched,
'Twill haunt thy conscience like a damning sin,
And may it gnaw thee shrewdly!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A small Apartment in the Castle; enter Rudigere musing gloomily, and muttering to himself some time before he speaks aloud.
Rud. No, no; it is to formless air dissolved,
This cherish'd hope, this vision of my brain!
(Pacing to and fro, and then stopping and musing as before.)
I daily stood contrasted in her sight
With an ungainly fool; and when she smiled,
MethoughtBut wherefore still upon this thought,
Which was perhaps but a delusion then,
Brood I with ceaseless torment? Never, never!
O never more on me, from Orra's eye,
Approving glance shall light, or gentle look!
This day's disgrace mars all my goodly dreams.
My path to greatness is at once shut up.
Still in the dust my grov'ling fortune lies.
(Striking his breast in despair)
Tame thine aspiring spirit, luckless wretch!
There is no hope for thee!
And shall I tame it! No, by saints and devils!
The laws have cast me off from every claim
Of house and kindred, and within my veins
Turn'd noble blood to baseness and reproach:
I'll cast them off: why should they be to me
A bar, and no protection?
(Pacing again to and fro, and muttering low for some time before he speaks aloud)
This is the secret weakness of her mind
On which I'll clutch my hold.
Enter Cathrina behind him, laying her hand upon him.
Cath.Ha! speak'st thou to thyself?
Rud. (starting) I did not speak.
Cath. Thou did'st; thy busy mind gave sound to thoughts
Which thou didst utter with a thick harsh voice,
Like one who speaks in sleep. Tell me their meaning.
Rud. And dost thou so presume? Be wise; be humble.
(After a pause)
Has Orra oft of late requested thee
To tell her stories of the restless dead?
Of spectres rising at the midnight watch
By the lone trav'ller's bed?
Cath. Wherefore of late dost thou so oft enquire
Of what she says and does?
Rud. Be wise, and answer what I ask of thee;
This is thy duty now.
Cath. Alas, alas! I know that one false step
Has o'er me set a stern and ruthless master.
Rud. No, madam; 'tis thy grave and virtuous seeming;
Thy saint-like carriage, rigid and demure,
On which thy high repute so long has stood,
Endowing thee with right of censorship
O'er every simple maid, whose cheerful youth
Wears not so thick a mask, that o'er thee sets
This ruthless master. Hereon rests my power:
I might expose, and therefore I command thee.
Cath. Hush, hush! approaching steps!
They'll find me here!
I'll do whate'er thou wilt.
Rud. It is but Maurice: hie thee to thy closet,
Where I will shortly come to thee. Be thou
My faithful agent in a weighty matter,
On which I now am bent, and I will prove
Thy stay and shelter from the world's contempt.
Cath. Maurice to find me here! Where shall I hide me?
Rud. No where, but boldly pass him as be enters.
I'll find some good excuse; he will be silent:
He is my agent also.
Cath. Dost thou trust him?
Rud. Avarice his master is, as shame is thine:
Therefore I trust to deal with both.—Away!
Enter Maurice, passing Cathrina as she goes out.
Maur. What, doth the grave and virtuous Cathrina,
Vouchsafe to give thee of her company?
Rud. Yes, rigid saint! she has bestowed upon me
Some grave advice to bear with pious meekness
My late discomfiture.
Maur. Aye, and she call'd it,
I could be sworn! heaven's judgment on thy pride.
Rud. E'en so: thou'st guessed it.—Shall we to the ramparts
And meet the western breeze?
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A spacious Apartment; enter Hughobert and Urston.
Hugh. (speaking with angry gesticulation as he enters)
I feed and clothe these drones, and in return
They cheat, deceive, abuse me; nay, belike
Laugh in their sleeve the while. By their advice
This cursed tourney I proclaim'd; for still
They puffed me up with praises of my son—
His grace, his skill in arms, his horsemanship—
Count Falkenstein to him was but a clown—
And so, in Orra's eyes to give him honour,
Full surely did I think—I'll hang them all!
I'll starve them in a dungeon shut from light:
I'll heap my boards no more with dainty fare
To feed false flatterers.
Urst.That indeed were wise:
But art thou sure, when men shall speak the truth,
That thou wilt feed them for it? I but hinted
In gentle words to thee, that Glottenbal
Was praised with partial or affected zeal,
And thou receiv'dst it angrily.
Hugh. Aye, true indeed: but thou did'st speak of him
As one bereft of all capacity.
Now tho', God wot! I look on his defects
With no blind love, and even in my ire
Will sometimes call him fool; yet, ne'ertheless,
He still has parts and talents, tho' obscured
By some untoward failings.—Heaven be praised!
He wants not strength at least and well turn'd limbs,
Had they but taught him how to use them. Knaves!
They have neglected him.
(Enter Glottenbal, who draws back on seeing his Father.)
That thus thou shrinkest like a sculking thief
To make disgrace the more apparent on thee?
Glot. Yes, call it then disgrace, or what you please;
Had not my lance's point somewhat awry
Glanced on his shield{bar|2}}
Hugh.E'en so; I doubt it not;
Thy lance's point, and every thing about thee
Hath glanced awry. Go, rid my house, I say,
Of all those feasting flatterers that deceive thee;
They harbour here no more: dismiss them quickly.
Glot. Do it yourself, my Lord; you are, I trow,
Angry enough to do it sharply.
Hugh.(turning to Urston) Faith!
He gibes me fairly here; there's reason in't;
Fools speak not thus. (to Glottenbal) Go to! if I am angry,
Thou art a graceless son to tell me so.
Glot. Have you not bid me still to speak the truth?
Hugh. (to Urston) Again thou hear'st he makes an apt reply.
Urst. He wants not words.
Hugh.Nor meaning neither, Father.
(Enter Eleonora.)
El. I came from Orra.
Hugh. Hast thou been pleading in our son's excuse?
And how did she receive it?
El. I tried to do it, but her present humour
Is jest and merriment. She is behind me,
Stopping to stroke a hound, that in the corridor
Came to her fawningly to be carest.
Glot. (listening) Aye, she is coming; light and quick her steps;
So sound they, when her spirits are unruly;
But I am bold; she shall not mock me now.
(Enter Orra, tripping gaily, and playing with the folds of her scarf.)
Or. Does it offend you, noble Knight.
Glot. Go to!
I know your meaning. Wherefore smile you so?
Or. Because, good sooth! with tired and aching sides
I have not power to laugh.
Glot. Full well I know why thou so merry art.
Thou think'st of him to whom thou gav'st that sprig
Of hopeful green, his rusty casque to grace,
Whilst at thy feet his honour'd glave he laid.
Or. Nay, rather say, of him, who at my feet,
From his proud courser's back, more gallantly
Laid his most precious self; then stole away,
Thro' modesty, unthank'd, nor left behind
Of all his geer that flutter'd in the dust,
Or glove or band, or fragment of torn hose,
For dear remembrance-sake, that in my sleeve
I might have stuck it. O! thou wrong'st me much
To think my merriment a reference hath
To any one but him. (Laughing.)
El. Nay, Orra; these wild fits of uncurb'd laughter,
Athwart the gloomy tenor of your mind,
As it has low'r'd of late, so keenly cast,
Unsuited seem and strange.
Or. O nothing strange, my gentle Eleonora!
Did'st thou ne'er see the swallow's veering breast,
Winging the air beneath some murky cloud
In the sunn'd glimpses of a stormy day,
Shiver in silv'ry brightness?
Or boatman's oar, as vivid lightning flash
In the faint gleam, that like a spirit's path
Tracks the still waters of some sullen lake?
Or lonely Tower, from its brown mass of woods,
Give to the parting of a wintry sun
One hasty glance in mockery of the night
Closing in darkness round it?—Gentle Friend!
Chide not her mirth, who was sad yesterday,
And may be so to-morrow.
Glot. And wherefore art thou sad, unless it is
From thine own wayward humour? Other Dames,
Were they so courted, would be gay and happy.
Or. Wayward it needs must be, since I am sad
When such perfection woos me.
Pray good Glottenbal,
How dids't thou learn with such a wond'rous grace
So high in air to toss thine armed heels,
And clutch with outspread hands the slipp'ry sand?
I was the more amaz'd at thy dexterity,
As this, of all thy many gallant feats
Before-hand promised, most modestly
Thou did'st forbear to mention.
Glot.Gibe away!
I care not for thy gibing. With fair lists,
And no black arts against me—
Hugh. (advancing angrily from the bottom of the stage to Glottenbal.)
Hold thy peace!
(To Orra.) And, Madam, be at least somewhat restrained
In your unruly humour.
Or. Pardon, my Lord: I knew not you were near me.
My humour is unruly: with your leave,
I will retire till I have curb'd it better.
(To Eleanora.) I would not lose your company, sweet Countess.
El. We'll go together, then.
[Exeunt Orra and Eleanora.
(Manet Hughobert; who paces angrily about the stage, while Glottenbal stands on the front, thumping his legs with his sheathed rapier.)
Nor pushing on a fool. My harassed life
Day after day more irksome grows. Curs'd bane!
I'll toil no more for this untoward match.
(Enter Rudigere, stealing behind, and listening.)
Rud. You are disturb'd, my Lord.
Hugh. What, is it thou? I am disturb'd in sooth.
Rud. Aye, Orra has been here; and some light words
Of girlish levity have mov'd you. How!
Toil for this match no more! What else remains,
If this should be abandoned, noble Aldenberg,
That can be worth your toil?
Hugh. I'll match the cub elsewhere.
Rud. What call ye matching?
Hugh. Surely for him some other virtuous maid
Of high descent, tho' not so richly dowried,
May be obtain'd.
Rud.Within your walls, perhaps,
Some waiting gentlewoman, who perchance
May be some fifty generations back
Descended from a king, he will himself
Ere long obtain, without your aid, my Lord.
Hugh. Thou mak'st me mad! the dolt! the senseless dolt!
What can I do for him? I cannot force
A noble maid entrusted to my care:
I, the sole guardian of her helpless youth!
Rud. That were indeed unfit; but there are means
To make her yield consent.
Hugh. Then by my faith, good friend, I'll call thee wizard,
If thou can'st find them out. What means already,
Short of compulsion, have we left untried?
And now the term of my authority
Wears to its close.
Rud. I know it well; and therefore powerful means,
And of quick operation, must be sought.
Hugh. Speak plainly to me.
Rud.I have watch'd her long.
I've seen her cheek, flush'd with the rosy glow
Of jocund spirits, deadly pale become
At tale of nightly sprite or apparition,
Such as all hear, 'tis true, with greedy ears,
Saying, "Saints, save us!" but forget as quickly.
I've mark'd her long: she has, with all her shrewdness
And playful merriment, a gloomy fancy,
That broods within itself on fearful things.
Hugh. And what doth this avail us?
Rud.Hear me out.
Your ancient castle in the Suabian forest
Hath, as too well you know, belonging to it,
Or false or true, frightful reports. There hold her
Strictly confin'd in sombre banishment;
And doubt not but she will, ere long, full gladly
Her freedom purchase at the price you name.
Hugh. On what pretence can I confine her there?
It were most odious.
Rud. Can pretence be wanting?
Has she not favour shewn to Theobald,
Who in your neighbourhood, with his sworn friend
The Banneret of Basle, suspiciously
Prolongs his stay? A poor and paltry Count,
Unmeet to match with her. And want ye then
A reason for removing her with speed
To some remoter quarter? Out upon it!
You are too scrupulous.
Hugh. Thy scheme is good, but cruel.
(Glottenbal—who has been drawing nearer to them, and attending to the last part of their discourse.)
Glot. O much I like it, dearly wicked Rudigere!
She then will turn her mind to other thoughts
Than scornful gibes at me.
Hugh. I to her father swore I would protect her:
I must fulfil his will.
Rud. And, in that will, her father did desire
She might be match'd with this your only son;
Therefore you're firmly bound all means to use
That may the end attain.
Hugh. Walk forth with me, we'll talk of this at large.[Exeunt Hugh, and Rud.
(Manet Glottenbal, who comes forward from the bottom of the stage, with the action of a knight advancing to the charge.)
Glot. Yes, thus it is: I have the slight o't now:
And were the combat yet to come, I'd shew them
I'm not a whit behind the bravest knight,
Cross luck excepted.
Enter Maurice.
Maur. My Lord, indulge us of your courtesy.
Glot. In what, I pray?
Maur.Did not Fernando tell you?
We are all met within our social bower;
And I have wager'd on your head, that none
But you alone, within the Count's domains,
Can to the bottom drain the chased horn.
Come, do not linger here when glory calls you.
Glot. Think'st thou that Theobald could drink so stoutly?
Maur. He, paltry chief! he herds with sober burghers;
A goblet, half its size, would conquer him.
[Exeunt.