A Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate The Stronger Passions of the Mind, Volume Three/The Siege Act 3
ACT III.
Scene before the Gate of the Castle. Enter Nina, who crosses the Stage timidly, stopping once or twice,, and then with hesitation giving a gentle knock at the Gate. Enter Porter from the Gate, which he opens.
Porter. (after waiting to hear her speak.)
What do you want, young woman? Did you only knock for amusement?
Nin. No, Sir; Is Count Valdemere in the castle? I would speak with him, if he is at leisure.
Port. He is in the castle; but as to speaking with him, no man of less consequence than his valet can answer that question.
Enter Lorimore, by the opposite side.
Here he is. You come opportunely, Mr. Lorimore; this young person would speak with your master.
Lor. (aside.) O, Nina, I see. (aloud.) How do you do, my pretty Nina? You can't speak with my master, indeed; but you may speak with the next most agreeable personage in these parts, my master's man, as long as you please; and that, be assured, is a far better thing for your purpose, my princess.
Nin. Dare you insult me? You durst not once have done it.—I do not ask then to see him; but give him this letter.
Lor. (taking the letter.) Do you wish this precious piece to be read, child, or to be burnt?
Nin. Why ask that? to be read, certainly.
Lor. I must not give it to the Count, then, but keep it to myself: and if you'll just allow me to make the slight alteration of putting Lorimore the valet for Valdemere the master, as I read, it will be a very pretty, reasonable letter, and one that may advance your honour withal.
Nin. Audacious coxcomb! Give it me again. (Snatches the letter from him , and turns away.)
Lor. She is as proud as that little devil of a page, her brother.
Enter Page behind from the gate.
Page. The more devil he be, the fitter company for you. Whom spoke you to? (seeing Nina) Oh, oh! Is Nina here?Nina, Nina, (Running after her.)
Nin. (returning.) My dear Theodore, is it thee? I did not ask for thee, lest thou should'st chide me for coming to the castle.
Page. I won't chide, but I'm sorry to see thee here. Fie, woman! thou art the daughter of as brave an officer, though a poor one, as any in the service; art thou not ashamed to come, thus meanly, after a lover who despises thee?
Nin. He promised to marry me.
Page. He promised a fiddle-stick! Poor deluded simpleton!
Nin. Ah! dost thou chide me, boy as thou art?
Page. Who is there to chide thee now, when both our parents are dead? But as they would have done, so do I, sister; I chide thee, and love thee too.—Go now; return to the good woman from whose house thou hast stolen away, and I'll buy thee a new gown as soon as my quarter's salary is paid me.
Nin. Silly child, what care I for a new gown? But if thou hast any pity for me, give this letter to thy master.
Page. I will, I will: but go thy ways now; there is a gentleman coming. And do, dear Nina, return no more to the castle till I send thee word. Good be with thee, poor simpleton!
[Exit Nina, and enter Dartz by the opposite side.]
Dart. Is it thy sister thou hast parted from? I met her in the wood this morning! she need not avoid me now.
Page. Let her go, Sir; the farther she is from the castle the better.
Dart. Thou hast a letter in thy hand.
Page. Yes, Sir.
Dart. Which thou art to give to the Count.
Page. No, Sir; I'll see him choked first.
(Tearing the letter.)
Dart. Nay, see what it contains ere thou destroyest it.
Page. (putting it together again and reading it.) Only upbraiding his unkindness, and stuff of that sort, with some nonsense about a dream she has had which makes her afraid she shall never see him again.
Dart. Let me look. (After reading it.) This letter may be useful. Come with me, my little friend; and we'll devise a way of revenging thy sister on her cruel seducer.
Page. Will you? I'll worship you like a saint of the calendar, if you do this.
Dart. (considering.) Is not your master somewhat superstitious?
Page. Marry is he! but mightily afraid to be thought so. He laughed at me,—when the bad fever prevailed,—for wearing a charm on my breast against infection! but the very next night when, he went to bed, what should drop out, think you, as he opened his vest, but the very same charm, which he had procured immediately, and worn with such secrecy, that even valet Lorimore knew nothing of the matter.
Dart. This is good; come with me, and I'll instruct thee what to do with thy letter.[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Valdemere's Dressing-Room: Enter Page treading softly on tiptoe, and looking about the Room.
Page. Aye; the coast is clear, and the door of his chamber is a-jar; now is my time. (Pulling the torn letter from his pocket, and stamping on the floor as he raises his voice.) There, cursed letter, I'll make an and of thee! Give thee to my master, indeed! I'll give thee to the devil first. (pretending to tear the letter, and strew the pieces about, while Valdemere, looking from the door of his chamber, steals behind him, and seizes his hands with the remainder of the letter in them.) Mercy on me! is it you, my Lord?
Vald. What art thou doing? What scares thee so? What letter is this? Let me see it.
Page. O no, my Lord! I beseech you, for your own sake, don't read it.
Vald. Why should not I read it, boy?
Page. Lud, I don't know! you may not mind it, perhaps; but were any body to send such a letter to me, I should be mainly terrified. To be sure, death comes, as they say, at his own time, and we can't keep him away, though we should hang ourselves; but one don't like to be told before-hand the very year or day we are to die, neither.
Vald. The year and day! give me the letter: give it me immediately. (Snatching the fragments of the letter from him, and picking up a piece or two from the floor, which he puts together hastily on a table near the front of the stage.) I can't make it piece any way.
Page. So much the better, my Lord: don't try to do it.
Vald. It is Nina's hand, I see, but I can make no sense of it;—Aye, now it will do, (reading ) "I have been terrified with a dream, and fear I shall see you no more." But where is the dream; it is torn off; give it me.
Page. I have it not.
Vald. Thou liest! give it me, I say.
Page. Lud have mercy! as I tore it off just now, your black spaniel ran away it.
Vald. No, varlet! that is a sham; go find it; thou knowest where it is well enough.
Page. Indeed, my Lord, if it is not in the black spaniel's custody, it is no where else that I know of.
Vald. (reading again.) I fear I shall see you no more! But it may be her own death as well as mine, that her dream has foretold; and therefore she may see me no more.
Page. Very true, you had better think so; though it does not often happen that a woman is killed at a siege.
Vald. At a siege!
Page. Pest take this hasty tongue of mine; I could bite it off for the tricks it plays me.
Vald. At a siege!
Page. O, never mind it. Sir. It may be some lie after all: some wicked invention to make you afraid.
Vald. (sternly.) What sayest thou?
Page. O no, I don't mean afraid; only uneasy as it were:—no, no! not uneasy neither; only somewhat as you feel at present, my Lord; you know best what to call it.
Vald. At a siege!
Page. Dear my Lord, those words are glued to your tongue.
Vald. (not heeding him.) My grandfather perished at a siege, and his grandfather also: is this fate decreed in our family for alternate generations? (Sinks into a chair by the table, and Page, seeing him so much absorbed, comes close to him, staring curiously in his face.)
Vald. Take thy varlet's face out of my sight; why art thou so near me? Leave the room, I say.[Exit Page.
(Rising, and pacing to and fro as he speaks to himself.)
Enter Dartz, looking at Vald. some time before he speaks.
Dart. (aside.) This will do; it is working with him. (Aloud, advancing.) My dear Count—but don't start, I bring no bad tidings; I come to beg a favour of you.
Vald. (recovering himself.) Say you are come to oblige me.
Dart. I thank you, Valdemere; but faith I'm ashamed to mention it; you will laugh at me for being so superstitious.
Vald. Ha! somebody has been dreaming about you too.
Dart. Should you deem me very credulous if a thing of this nature had power to disturb me?
Vald. 'Tis even so; they have been dreaming all over the house. Ha, ha, ha! And thou art really uneasy about.such flummery as this: ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! this is admirable! delightful!—ha, ha, ha, ha!
Dart. Be more moderate with your merriment: your tears and your laughter come so strangely together, one would take you for an hysterical girl.
Vald. I can't, chuse but laugh at your dreamers; ha, ha, ha!
Dart. Don't laugh at me then; for I am neither a dreamer, nor believer in dreams.
Vald. (becoming serious at once.) No! what is it then?
Dart. I'm almost ashamed to tell you, yet I'll throw myself on your mercy and do it. I am in love then, and fearful of the fortunes of war; for you know we must expect sharp fighting this ensuing campaign.
Vald. (ruefully.) You think so?
Dart. I am certain of it. Now, though I have no faith in dreams, I must own I have some in fortune-tellers; and there is a famous one just come to the castle, whom I would gladly consult. Will you permit me to bring him to your inner apartment there, that he may tell me of my future destiny whatever his art may reveal to him? Laugh as you please, but refuse me not this favour, for there is no other room in the castle where I can meet him secure from interruption.
Vald. (smiling affectedly.) And thou art really in earnest with this folly?
Dart. When you have heard the wonderful things this wizard has foretold, you will not call it folly.
Vald. Can'st thou tell me any of them?
Dart. Take a turn with me on the terrace, and thou shalt hear things that will astonish thee.
Vald. Ha, ha! it is whimsical to see thee so serious. Such stories are pleasant amusement: I'll attend thee most willingly.
[Exeunt.