# 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, Methought——But 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.