# Dramas (Baillie)/The Bride/Act 1

THE BRIDE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.—Scene, before the Castle of Rasinga.
Enter Ehleypoolie, meeting Mihdoony and two Officers of the Chieftain's household.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
MIHDOONY.
FIRST OFFICER.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
Are not the passing ware of daily traffic,
But such as in each list'ner's fancy wakes
Responding sounds, such as from twisted shell
On sea-beach found, comes to the bended ear
Of wand'ring child; sounds strange and full of omen.
MIHDOONY.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
The ring of scatter'd largess, sweeter far
Than pipe or chord or chant of forest birds:
The sound of mummery and merriment:
The sound——
But wherefore stare ye on me thus?
List: I will tell ye what concerns us all.
MIHDOONY.
To be no more tormented with thy folly.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
With fifty armed followers and their followers,
Shall be in readiness by early dawn,
To march in goodly order to the mountains.
FIRST OFFICER.
SECOND OFFICER.
MIHDOONY.
With bleeding limbs drained by a hundred leeches!
EHLEYPOOLIE.
Which gentle lady, in her palanquin,
Will share with you?
MIHDOONY.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
Has with one wife, for a good term of years,
(Lulled by some charm of sorcery) been satisfied.
It is good time that he, like other chiefs,
Should have a first sultana and a second,
Or any such arrangement as becomes
His age and dignity. So, in gay trim
With our arm'd band, we by to-morrow's dawn
Must be in readiness.—These are your orders,
Sent by our lord through me.
MIHDOONY.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
Whose petty hold was sack'd by daring robbers
Not many weeks gone by. He and his daughter
Were dragged as prisoners from their ruin'd home.
In this sad plight, our chief, with Samarkoon,
The valiant brother of his present wife,
And a good strength of spearmen, met them; charged
The bootied spoilers, conquer'd and released
Their wretched prey.—And ye may well suppose
The lady's veil, amidst the strange confusion,
Could not be clutched so close, but that Rasinga
Might see the lovely face it should have cover'd.
MIHDOONY.
Rasinga had not else brought to his house
Another bride to share it with Artina.
[Samarkoon, who has entered behind them unperceived, and overheard part of the preceding dialogue, now rushes forward indignantly.
SAMARKOON.
What words are these which ye have dared to utter?
EHLEYPOOLIE.
The orders which Rasinga charged me with,
SAMARKOON.
Thou lying knave! Went not thy words thus far?
EHLEYPOOLIE.
What may within a guarded palanquin
Be from the mountains brought, I may but guess.
Perhaps some speaking bird or jabb'ring ape.
SAMARKOON (striking him).
Dar'st thou to answer me with mockery?
[Exit Ehleypoolie sulkily, followed by Mihdoony and Officers.
Manet Samarkoon.
And passing revelry, they would right gladly
See peace and order and domestic bliss
To misery and wild confusion changed.
Hateful suggestions! base and vague conjectures,
Which vulgar minds on slight foundation rear!
All false!———
And yet they are upon my heart
Like the compressure of a coiled boa,
Loathly, but irresistible.
A bride!
It cannot be!—altho' her unveil'd face
Was of surprising beauty—O how lovely!
Yet he bestow'd on her but frigid praise,
And still continued to repress my ardour,
Whene'er I spoke of the fair mountain maid,
With silent stern reserve.—Is this like love?
It is not natural.
Ah! but it is;
It is too natural,—deep subtle nature.
How was my idiot soul so far beguiled
That I ne'er thought of this?
Yes, yes, he loves her!
Loves her whom I so well—so dearly love,
That every female image but her own
Is from my heart effaced, like curling mists
That, rising from the vale, cling for a while
To the tall cliff's brown breast, till the warm sun
Dissolves them utterly.—'T is so; ev'n she
Whom I have thought of, dreamt of, talk'd of,—ay,
And talk'd to, though in absence, as a thing
Present and conscious of my words, and living,
Like the pure air around me, every where.
(After a pause.)
And he must have this creature of perfection!
It shall not be, whatever else may be!
As there is blood and manhood in this body,
It shall not be!
And thou, my gentle sister,
Must thy long course of wedded love and honour
Come to such end!—Thy noble heart will break,
When love and friendly confidence are fled.
Thou art not form'd to sit within thy bower
Like a dress'd idol in its carved alcove,
A thing of silk and gems and cold repose:
Thy keen but generous nature——Shall it be?
I 'll sooner to the trampling elephant
The words of that base varlet may be false.
Good Montebesa shall resolve my doubts.
Her son confides to her his secret thoughts:
To her I'll go, and be relieved from torment,
Or know the worst at once.[Exit.
SCENE II.
The Apartment of Montebesa.
Sabawatté is discovered at work and singing.
SONG.
The gliding fish that takes his play
 In shady nook of streamlet cool,
Thinks not how waters pass away,
 And summer dries the pool.
The bird beneath his leafy dome,
 Who trills his carol, loud and clear,
Thinks not how soon his verdant home
 The lightning's breath may sear.
Shall I within my bridegroom's bower,
 With braids of budding roses twined,
Look forward to a coming hour
 When he may prove unkind?
The bee reigns in his waxen cell,
 The chieftain in his stately hold,
To-morrow's earthquake,—who can tell?
 May both in ruin fold.
Enter Montebesa, as the song is concluded.
MONTEBESA.
The song my dear Artina loves to hear?
SABAWATTÉ.
When first I was attendant in her bower;
Ere, at your own desire, and for my honour,
She did resign me to your higher service.
MONTEBESA.
Of its contain'd allusions to a fate
Which now abides herself.
SABAWATTÉ.
She is a happy wife, the only wife
Of brave Rasinga, honour'd and beloved.
MONTEBESA.
SABAWATTÉ.
She will not so continue?
MONTEBESA.
It grieves me much to tell thee what perforce
Must soon be known to all; my son Rasinga
Hath set his heart upon a younger bride,
Perhaps a fairer too.
SABAWATTÉ (eagerly).
I'd peril life and limb upon the bet,
She is not half so fair, nor half so good.
MONTEBESA.
As such a grievous thing? She has already
Enjoyed his undivided love much longer
Than other dames have done with other lords,
And reason teaches she should now give place.
SABAWATTÉ.
A loorie haunting with a spotted pard.
Ah! woe the day! Why have you told me this?
MONTEBESA.
Print traces which may lead our poor Artina
To question thee; and thou, who art her friend,
Canst by degrees, with gentle, wise precaution,
Reveal to her what she must needs be told.
SABAWATTÉ.
I do implore your goodness!—No, I cannot.
MONTEBESA.
But not Rasinga.—It is Samarkoon;
I know his rapid tread.—Be wise; be silent;
For he awhile must live in ignorance.
Enter Samarkoon, and Sabawatté retires to some distance.
A happy morning to you, youthful kinsman!
SAMARKOON.
Oft leads to woeful eve, ay, woeful noon.
MONTEBESA.
Why dost thou look both sorrowful and stern?
SAMARKOON.
Be aught but a malignant, hateful tale,
On mere conjecture founded. Answer me,
If thou know'st nothing of a num'rous train
In preparation, by Rasinga's orders,
To fetch home to his house a fair young bride?
[A pause, he looking inquisitively in her face.]
Thou dost not speak; thou dost not answer me;
There's trouble in thine eye.—A with'ring curse
Light on his heartless heart, if this be true!
MONTEBESA.
To question me of that which well may be
Without my knowledge;—that which, if it be,
Nor thou nor I have any power to alter.
SAMARKOON.
A shameful answer, shunning open words.
Dear, dear Artina! thou hast climb'd already
The sunny side of Doombra's mountain ridge,
And now with one short step must pass the bounds
Dividing ardent heat from chilling clouds
With drenching mist surcharged.
So suddenly
To bring this change upon her! Cruel craft!
He knows that it will break her tender heart,
And serve his fatal purpose.
MONTEBESA.
Thou art unjust, ungenerous, unwise;
For should Rasinga—no uncommon act,
Take to his princely bower a second bride,
Would not Artina still be held in honour,
Her children cherish'd and their rank secured?
SAMARKOON.
To fall'n deserted merit, she will have;
And such security as should-be heirs, Who stand i' the way of younger, petted minions,
Find in the house of an estranged sire,
Her children will receive.—Alas, alas!
The very bonds of soul-devoted love,
That did so long entwine a husband's heart,
For her own life the cord of execution
Will surely prove.—Detested cruelty!
But is it so? My head is all confusion,
My heart all fire;—I know not what thou said'st.
MONTEBESA.
To hold discourse on such a wayward subject.
She whom thou lov'st so dearly as a brother,
I as a mother do most truly love.
Let this suffice thee, and retire awhile,
For I expect Artina, and 't is meet
She be not now overwhelm'd with thy distress.
Ha! she is here already; tripping lightly
With sparkling eyes, like any happy child,
Who bears away the new-robb'd rock-bird's spoil.
Enter Artina, gayly, with an embroidered scarf of many colours in her hand, and running up to Montebesa.
ARTINA.
The spirits of the Peak have done this work;
Not hands of flesh and blood.—Nay, look more closely.
And thou too, Samarkoon. How cam'st thou here?
I pray you both admire the beauteous gift—
Rasinga's gift—which I have just received.
SAMARKOON (eagerly).
ARTINA.
He sent it to me, the capricious man!
Ay, and another present, some days since,
Was also sent.—Ay, so it was, indeed.
SAMARKOON.
ARTINA.
This most important question!—Never mind:
I can devise a means to be revenged
For all this seeming lack of courtesy.
MONTEBESA.
ARTINA.
With robe and veil and pall majestical,
And she shall thank him in a tiresome speech,
(He hates her formal prosing)—that I trow,
Will cure him of such princely modes of sending
His gifts to me.—But ye are wondrous grave.
What ails thee, brother? Speak, good Montebesa;
I fear he is not well.
MONTEBESA.
ARTINA (taking his hand affectionately).
SAMARKOON (turning away his face).
But mind it not, Artina.
ARTINA.
And I have learnt this morning cheering news,—
Good news for thee and all sick folk beside.
MONTEBESA.
ARTINA.
Did cure Rasinga of his fearful malady,
When at the point of death, is just arrived.
Where he hath been these two long year and more
There's not a creature knows. Perhaps i' the moon,
If magic knows the way to climb so high.
MONTEBESA.
ARTINA.
And well worth visiting, which sends forth men
So gifted and so good.
SAMARKOON.
Hath it e'er sent another like to him?
Yet wherefore came he to these happier regions
With such a wicked crew?
ARTINA.
His fate hath been disastrous and sad,
As I have heard him say; and, woe is me!
Misfortune is not dainty in associates.
SAMARKOON.
Where locusts, ants, and lizards poorly thrive,—
On the bare summit of a rugged peak,
Where birds of prey in dusky circles wing
The troubled air with loud and clam'rous din,
Were to an honest heart endurable,
Rather than such associates.
ARTINA.
I'll send for him, and he will make thee well.
SAMARKOON.
ARTINA.
Being so loving and so well beloved.
SAMARKOON.
Both thee and thine, and so shall ever be,
Whilst life gives motion to thy brother's heart.
ARTINA.
A meaning and a mystery in this.
Tears, too, are on my hand, dropt from thine eyes;—
O, speak, and tell the worst!
SAMARKOON.
I pray thee, let me go; I cannot speak.
[Breaks from her and exit. Then Sabawatté comes forward and takes hold of her robe with an action of soothing tenderness.]
ARTINA (to Sabawatte).
I charge thee speak, and tell the fearful cause,
Since no one else will do it.
MONTEBESA.
Which can no longer be concealed; but listen,
Listen with patience to the previous story,
And thou wilt see how fated, strange events
Have caused within Rasinga's noble heart,
Ev'n he who has so long and dearly loved thee,
A growing possibility of change.
ARTINA.
All is comprised in this. (With actions of despair.)
MONTEBESA.
Sit on this seat and call up strength to hear me.
Thou giv'st no heed to me; thou dost not hear.
ARTINA (in a low voice, after a pause).
MONTEBESA.
A mountain chief and his fair daughter rescue
From ruffian robbers. In its youthful charms
He saw the virgin's unveil'd face. Alas!
A sight so rare he could not see unmoved.
Restless and troubled, like a stricken wretch
Whom sorcery possesses, for a while
He strove against his passion, but at length
Nature gave way; and thou may'st guess what follows.
ARTINA.
MONTEBESA.
And thou, dear daughter, must prepare thyself
To bear some natural change.
[Artina faints away in the arms of Sabawatté.]
SABAWATTÉ.
These cruel words have dealt the fatal blow.
MONTEBESA.
Which, though it seems appalling, brings relief,
Ev'n like Niwané, when the virtuous soul
Hath run, through many a change, its troubled course.
Let us remove her gently to my couch.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Apartments of Rasinga.
He enters, followed by Ehleypoolie and Mihdoony, and is speaking as he enters.
RASINGA (to Ehleypoolie).
EHLEYPOOLIE.
Yet I must say all things are so arranged,
That never bride's array, on such short notice,
Was better order'd, or for gallant show,
Or for security.
RASINGA.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
Will shine above the guard's encircling heads,
Like any crested mancka, proudly perch'd
Upon the summit of her bushy knoll.
RASINGA.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
Make room as quickly as the supple trunk
Of a wild elephant; whilst forest birds,
From their rent haunts dislodged, fly up and wheel
In mazy circles, raising clam'rous cries,
And casting noon-day shadows, like a cloud,
On the green woods beneath.
MIHDOONY.
He is not given to boasting.
RASINGA (smiling).
As meek and modest as a Padur's child.
And having done so much for show and speed,
Good Ehleypoolie, I will take for granted
The chiefest point of all, security,
Has not been overlook'd; for mountain robbers
May yet be lurking near some narrow pass.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
'T will be as though a troop of mowing monkeys,
With antic mimic motions of defiance,
Should front the brinded tiger and his brood.
Full soon, I trow, their hinder parts they turn,
Lank and unseemly, to the enemy,
In scamp'ring haste, to gain the nearest shelter.
It were good sport if they should dare to stand.
MIHDOONY.
RASINGA.
Brave Ehleypoolie.
EHLEYPOOLIE.
The pipes and doulas* which have hung so long
In the recess of Dame Artina's garden?
Of all your instruments there are not any
That sound so loud and clear.
RASINGA (sternly).
Let nothing there be changed. Thy witless words
Have struck upon my heart a dismal note,
Depressing all its life and buoyancy.
Alas! my joy is like the shimm'ring brightness
Of moving waves, touch'd by the half-risen moon,
Tracing her narrow pathway on the deep :
Between each brighten'd ridge black darkness lies,
Whilst far on either side, the wat'ry waste
Spreads dim, and vague, and cheerless.
MIHDOONY.
RASINGA.
Ay, and though cross'd with darkness black as midnight,
I will enjoy this momentary radiance.
Enter a Slave, in haste.
What brings thee here with such a staring face?
SLAVE.
RASINGA.
SLAVE.
RASINGA (much disturbed).
Is Montebesa with her?
SLAVE.
She has her children with her.
RASINGA.
The sight of them will change my strength to cowardice:
What shall I do?
EHLEYPOOLIE.
And cannot see her.
RASINGA (pulling Ehleypoolie back as he is about to go out.)
Shall she be so debarr'd from entrance here,
Whose presence was a blessing and a grace!
Enter Artina, leading her youngest Child, and followed by Samar, leading his little sister. Rasinga hastens to meet her, and leads her in silence to the principal seat, at the same time motioning to Ehleypoolie and Mihdoony to withdraw, who immediately leave the apartment.
Here, take this seat, Artina.
ARTINA.
I come not here to sit; I come to kneel,
As now beseems a scorn'd forsaken wife,
Who pleads with strong affection for her children:
Who pleads in painful memory of love
Which thou for many years hast lavish'd on her,
Till, in the gladness of a foolish heart,
She did believe that she was worthy of it.
RASINGA.
Thou wert, and art, and shalt be loved and honour'd
While there is life within Rasinga's bosom.
Why didst thou think it could be otherwise,
Although another mate within my house
May take her place, to be with thee associated,
As younger sister with an elder born?
Such union is in many houses found.
ARTINA.
How others live I little care to know:
But this I feel, there is no life for me,
No love, no honour, if thy alter'd heart
Hath put me from it for another mate.
Oh, woe is me! these children on thy knees,
That were so oft caress'd, so dearly cherish'd,
Must then divide thy love with younger fav'rites,
Of younger mother born? Alas! alas!
Small will the portion be that falls to them.
RASINGA.
ARTINA.
That thou wilt love them still; but ah ! too soon
They'll be as things who do but haunt thy house,
Lacking another home, uncheer'd, uncared for.
And who will heed their wants, will sooth their sorrow,
When their poor mother moulders in the grave,
And her vex'd spirit, in some other form,
Is on its way to gain the dreamless sleep?
Kneel, Samar, kneel! thy father loved thee first,
In our first happy days.—Wilt thou not, boy?
Why dost thou stand so sullen and so still?
SAMAR.
ARTINA.
Down on thy knees! up with thy clasped hands!
Rasinga, O Rasinga! did I think
So to implore thy pity—me and mine
So to implore thy pity, and in vain!
(Sinks on the ground exhausted with agitation.)
RASINGA (raising her gently in his arms).
Thy passionate affections waste thy strength;
Let me support thee to another chamber,
More fitting for retirement and for rest.
Come also, children—Come, my little playmates!
SAMAR.
RASINGA.
SAMAR.
As thou were wont: we're not thy playmates now.
RASINGA.
[Exeunt Artina, leaning on her husband, and the children following.]
SCENE IV.
A retired Grove near the Castle of Rasinga.   Enter Samarkoon and a Forest Freebooter.
SAMARKOON.
We may with freedom commune on the purpose
For which I would engage thy speedy aid.
Thou knowest who I am; and dost remember
Where, how, and when I last encounter'd thee?
FREEBOOTER.
Alone and slightly arm'd, be well assured
I will defend my life and liberty,
SAMARKOON.
Which makes me now, all robber as thou art,
And lurking here disguised, as well I guess,
For no good end,—to seek thy amity.
FREEBOOTER.
A chief of rank, and brother of Rasinga!
SAMARKOON.
Is not a scrup'lous chooser of its means.
How many of these armed desperadoes,
From whose fell hands we did so lately rescue
That petty chieftain and his child, could'st thou
Within short time assemble?
FREEBOOTER.
Of those who once, at call of my shrill horn,
With spear and bow in hand, and quiver'd back
The deadly arrows bearing, issued forth
From cave or woody jungle, fierce but stealthy,
Like glaring, tawny pards,—few, few remain.
SAMARKOON.
FREEBOOTER.
SAMARKOON.
FREEBOOTER.
With man or tiger grappled.
SAMARKOON.
And near the narrow pass where ye sustain'd
The onset of Rasinga, wait my coming
With all the armed mates thou canst assemble;
And there I'll join thee with a trusty band.
Do this, and thou shalt be rewarded richly.
FREEBOOTER.
From such a noble chief will be most bountiful.
SAMARKOON.
I need not say. So let us separate,
Nor stay for further parley; time is precious.
FREEBOOTER.
At the Wiharé yonder; then with speed
Wend to our woods.—But wherefore smilest thou?
SAMARKOON.
FREEBOOTER.
Who has more need of favour from the gods
Than he who leads a life of lawless peril?
[Exit.
SAMARKOON (exultingly).
While poor Artina sighs and weeps unheeded,
In gallant order for thy fair new bride!
Another bridegroom and another chamber
Abide her which thou little thinkest of.
[Exit.