# A Series of Plays in which it is attempted to delineate The Stronger Passions of the Mind, Volume Three/The Siege Act 4

ACT IV.
SCENE I.—A small Room in Valdemere's Apartments. Baron Baurchel is discovered in the Disguise of a Fortune-teller, with Dartz standing by him, adjusting part of his Dress.
Dart. 'Twill do well enough. Stand majestically by this great chair, with your worsted robe thrown over the arm of it; it will spread out your figure, and make it more imposing.—Bravo! you assume the astrological dignity to admiration; the rolling of your eyes under that black hood almost appals me. Be as good an astrologer as you have been an Armenian Jew, Baron, and we shall be triumphant.
Bar. As good, Dartz! if I am not a dolt, I shall be better; for there is no danger of losing my temper now; and being fairly engaged in it, methinks I could assume as many shapes as Proteus, to be revenged on this false hyena and her detestable cub.
Dart. Aye, that is your true spirit. But I must leave you now, and wait in the anti-room for the Count, who will be here presently. [Exit.
Bar. (after musing some time.) Superlative baseness and ingratitude! That sonnet, of all the sonnets I ever wrote, is the most exquisitely ​feeling and tender. When I read it to her she wept. Were her tears feigned? I can't believe it. Assassins will weep at a high-wrought scene of tragedy, and cut the author's throat when it is over.—Even so: it suited her purposes better to laugh at my verses, than acknowledge their genuine effect; and so, forgetting every kindness she owed me——O, the detestable worldling! I'll—hush, hush, hush! they are coming.
Re-enter Dartz, followed by Valdemere, who walks shrinkingly behind, peeping past his shoulder to the Baron, who slightly inclines his body, putting his hand with great solemnity three times to his forehead.
Dart. (aside to Vald. after a pause.) Faith, Valdemere, I dare scarcely speak to him; 'tis well you are with me; will you speak to him?
Vald. No, 'tis your own affair; stand to it yourself.
Dart. (aloud.) Learned and gifted mortal, we come to thee—
Vald. (aside, jogging his arm.) Don't say we; 'tis your own affair entirely.
Dart. Well, I should say, gifted sage, not we, but I come to thee, to know what fortune is abiding me in this up-and-down world. I am a lover and a soldier, and liable, as both, to great vicissitudes.
Bar. Thou say'st truly, my Son; and who is ​this young man, so much wiser than thyself, who does not desire to look into futurity?
Dart. It is my friend.
Bar. (after examining the faces of both for some time.) Say, more than friend.
Dart. How so?
Bar. (still continuing to gaze alternately at them.) 'Tis very wonderful! in all the years of my occult experience, I never met the like before, but once.
Vald. (aside to Dart.) What does he mean? Ask him, man.
Dart. You never met the like but once! What mean you, Father?
Bar. (answers not, but continues to look at them, while Vald., unable to bear it longer, shrinks again behind Dart.) Shrink not back, young man; my eyes make not the fate they see, and cannot do you harm.—'Tis wonderful! there is not in your two faces one trait of resemblance, yet your fortunes in the self-same mould are cast: ye are in fate twin-brothers.
Dart. Indeed! then my friend need only listen to my fortune, and he'll have his own into the bargain.
Bar. Nay, nay, my Sons, be advised, and enquire not into futurity. They are the happiest men who have fewest dealings with such miserable beings as myself—beings who are compelled to know the impending evils of hapless humanity, without the power of averting them. Be advised, and suppress unprofitable curiosity.
​ Dart. By my fay, sage, I cannot suppress it.
Bar. Then let your friend go. He is wise enough not to wish to know his future fate, and I have already said you are in this twin-brothers.
Dart. Retire then, Valdemere.
Vald. (agitated and irresolute.) I had better, perhaps.—Yet there is within me a strange and perverse craving—I will retire (going to the door, and stopping short.)—Live in fearful ignorance, fancying evils that may never be! 'twere better to know all at once. (Returning.) Is it our general fortunes only, or is there some particular circumstance of our fate, now present to your mind, of which you advise us to be ignorant?
Bar. There is—
Vald. (pulling Dart, by the arm.) Come away, come away; don't hear it.
Dart. I am bound by some spell; I must stay to hear it.
Vald. I am certainly bound also; I know not how it is; I must hear it too.
Bar. Be it as you will, (After writing characters on a table, with other mummeries.) Propose your questions.
Dart. The name, age, and quality of her who is my love! (Bar. writes again.) The initials of her name, I protest; and her age to a day, nineteen years and a half! And her quality, good Father?
Bar. Only daughter and heiress of an eminent Dutch butter-dealer.
​ Dart. Nay, you are scarcely right there, sage; you might at least have called him Burgo-master; but let it pass. She loves me, I hope? (Bar. nods.) I knew it. And now let me know if she shall ever be my wife, and how many children we shall have?
Vald. (aside to Dart.) Deuce take wife and children too! what is all this drivelling for?
Dart. (aside to him.) I thought you were in love as well as myself.
Vald. So I am, but be satisfied that she loves you, and pass on to things of deeper import.
Dart. (aside.) Can any thing be of deeper import? (Aloud.) I should like very well, gifted Father, to have two or three black-haired burly knaves, and a little fair damsel, to play with.
Vald. (aside to Dart.) Would they were all drowned in a horse-pond! Look how ruefully the sage shakes his head at thee: wife or children thou wilt never have.
Dart. Shall I never be married, Father? what shall prevent it?
Bar. Death.
Dart. Shall I lose her? (Turning to Vald.) Do you not tremble for Livia?
Vald. Is it her death? did he say so? Ask him.
Bar. Death will prevent it. Let me leave you.
Vald. (seizing the Baron's robe.) Whose death? whose death? is it only the lady's?
Bar. Nay, do not detain me. There, is a deep depression on my mind. Good night to ​you! I'll tell you the remainder when you are better prepared to hear it.
Dart. No, no! the present time is the best.
Vald. (in a feeble voice.) You had better let him go.
Dart. (catching hold of the Bar.) You must not leave us in this tremendous uncertainty. Whose death shall prevent my marriage?
Bar. Let me examine, then. Stretch out your hand. (Dartz holds out his hand, and Vald. involuntarily does the same, but draws it back again as Bar. begins to inspect it.) Nay, don't draw back your hand: I must examine both palms to see if the line of death be there.
Dart. The line of death must be on every man's hand.
Bar. But if it be early or impending death, the waving of the shroud will lie across it. (Vald. shudders and turns away his head, and the Bar., after looking at both their hands, starts back from them, and shakes his head piteously.)
Dart. What is the matter. Father? What is the matter?
Bar. Ask not; I will not tell what I know; nothing shall compel me. [Exit hastily.
Vald. (turning round.) Is he gone? Went he by the door?
Dart. What way he went I know not. He has vanished I believe: did you hear his steps on the floor?
Vald. I heard nothing.
​ Dart. (after a short pause.) How do you feel. Count?
Vaid. Ha! do you feel it too?
Dart. Feel what?
Vald. As if a cold shroud were drawn over you.
Dart. Aye, so I think I do.—But never mind it: we may still have some good months or weeks before us; let us go to the banquet and put a merry face upon it: a cup of wine will warm us again. What, though my grandam dreamt at my birth that I should be slain in a breach, and the weird witch of Croningberg confirmed it; I'll live and be merry while I may.
Vald. Ha! and thy grandam had such a dream!
Dart. Never mind it: a cup of wine will soon cheer us again.
Vald. Would to God I had one now!
Dart. You have no time to take wine at present: I hear a bustle below: they are going to the grotto already.—Who's at the door? (Opens the door.) Your valet with your new suit for the banquet. I'll leave you then. (Exit Dartz, and enter Lorimore with a suit of cloaths over his arm, followed by Page.)
Lor. I have waited this half hour, my Lord, to hear your bell, and the ladies are waiting for you to go to the grotto. Look at this coat, my Lord: the fashion of it is exquisite, and it has such an air with it; there is not, besides ​yourself, a man in the empire that would know how to wear it.
Page. His consummate valet excepted.
Lor. Hold your peace, Sirrah.—Look here, my Lord; if I had not myself given the tailor a few hints, he could never have had genius enough to finish it in this style. I'd give a ducat that the Marquis De Florimel's valet could see it. He pretends—But you don't look at it, my Lord: what is the matter with you?
Vald. (eagerly.) Is any thing the matter?
Lor. Nothing, my Lord; but the ladies are waiting for you to go with them to the grotto: won't you be pleased to put on your new coat?
Vald. Put it on then. (Stretching out his arms to put on the coat.)
Lor. But we must first take off the old coat.
Vald. I forgot that. (Trying to pull off his coat.) It sticks strangely to me: doff it if thou can'st.
Lor. (after pulling off his coat.) Now, my Lord, thrust your arm into this beautiful sleeve; the whole beau monde of Paris can't shew you its fellow.—That is the wrong arm, my Lord.
Vaid. It will do; it will do.
Lor. Pardon me, my Lord; your left arm won't do for the right sleeve of the coat.
Vald. (holding out his other arm and stumbling some time.) There is no hole at all to put my arm into.
​ Lor. Nay, you push your hand past it; here, here.
Vald. Where sayest thou? 'Tis mightily perplexed.
Page. (aside to himself.) Either the coat or the coat's master is perplexed enough. (Aloud, offering him his hat.) You won't go, my Lord, without your new hat and plume.
Vald. Plume?
Page. Yes, my Lord, and it will wave so handsomely too, for the company walk by torchlight in procession.
Vald. Let them move on, and I'll follow.
Page. No, they can't go without you, my Lord.
Vald. How is it? Am I one of the pall-bearers?
Page. It is not a funeral, my Lord.
Vald. I forgot; the chillness of the night has bewildered me.
Lor. You are not well, my Lord; what is the matter with you?
Vald. Nothing, leave me alone for a little.
Lor. Will you not join the company? The procession is prepared to set out.
Vald. Aye, very true; tell me when they move the body, and I'll follow it.
Page. He, he, he! a funeral again.
Lor. Unmannerly imp; what art thou snickering at? (To Vald. in a loud distinct voice.) It is not a funeral, my Lord. The Lady Livia, and ​the Countess your mother, are going to the grotto, and are waiting impatiently below till you join them.
Vald. (rubbing his forehead.) It is so: how went it out of my head? That wine after dinner must have fuddled me. I'll join them immediately.
Lor. Lean on me, my Lord; you are not well, I fear.
Vald. No, no; the fumes of that diabolical champaign have left my head now.
Lor. It must have been mixed with some black drug, I think, to produce such a sombre intoxication.
Page. It may rest in the cellar long enough for me; I'll none on't.
Lor. Peace, young Sir; and go before with one of these lights. [Exeunt, Page lighting them.
SCENE II.
An arched Grotto, the Roof and Sides of which are crusted over with Shells and Corals, &c.; a Banquet set out, ornamented with Lamps and Festoons of Flowers. Enter Countess, led in by Dartz, and Livia by Valdemere, two other Ladies by the Baron and Walter Baurchel, Page and Attendants following.
Liv. Welcome all to my sea-nymph's hall; and do me the honour to place yourselves at ​table, as best pleases your fancy, without ceremony. If you hear any sound without, 'tis but the rolling of forty fathom water over-head; and nothing can intrude on our merriment, but a whale, or a mermaid, or a dolphin.
Walt. This same sea-nymph must have an ingenious art of cultivating roses in the bottom of the ocean.
Liv. It must be a perfect contrivance indeed that escapes the correct taste of Mr. Walter Baurchel. Fruit and ices perhaps may likewise be an incongruity: shall I order them away, and feast you on salt water and limpits?
Bar. Aye, pickle him up with brine in a corner by himself, for he has a secret sympathy with every thing uncherishing and pungent.
Liv. Do me the honour to take your places. I can pretty well divine which of the ladies will be your charge, gentle Baron.—But how is this? The Countess and you exchange strange looks, methinks, as if you did not know one another.
Bar. Some people exchange strange looks, fair Livia, from the opposite cause.
Liv. I don't comprehend you: should you have preferred being in masks? That indeed would have been a less common amusement.
Bar. By no means, Madam; the Countess and I meeting one another unmasked is a very uncommon one.
Countess. You know best, Baron, as far as you ​are yourself concerned: you always appeared to me a good and amiable man, and a most tender and elegant poet.
Bar. Of which. Madam, you always took great care to inform me, as a sincere and disinterested friend.
Liv. Ha! what is all this? Poo, poo, take your places together as usual: a love-quarrel never mars merry-making.
Walt. Yes, tender doves! let them smooth down their ruffled feathers by one another as sweetly as they can. Why should you, Madam, give yourself any uneasiness about it?—But the Count, methinks, is less sprightly than usual: there are no more love-quarrels, I hope, in the party.
Liv. (looking at Vald.) Indeed you are very silent: I have been too much occupied to observe it before. You don't like my grotto, I fear.
Vald. Pardon me; I like it very well; I like it very much.
Liv. But this is not your usual manner of expressing approbation.
Vald. Is it not? you do me honour to remember it. (Speaking confusedly as the company sit down to table.) My spirits are very—that is to say, not altogether, but considerably—
Dart. Low, Valdemere?
Vald. (snatching up a glass, and filling a bumper of wine, which he swallows hastily.) No, Dartz; light as a feather. My tongue was so ​confoundedly parched: this wine is excellent (drinking another bumper.) There is more beauty in these decorations than I was aware of; the effect, the taste is incomparable. (Drinks again.) It is truly exquisite.
Walt. The champaign you mean. Count? I should have guessed as much.
Vald. No, no; the decorations,—Is it champaign? Let me judge of its flavour more considerately (drinks again): upon honour it is fit for the table of a god. But our hostess is a divinity, and 'tis nectar we quaff at her board,—Wine! common earthly wine! I'll thrust any man thro' with my rapier that says it is but wine.
Bar. Keep your courage for a better cause, Count. Report says the enemy are near us, and you may soon have the honour to exert it in defence of your divinity.
Walt. Which will be a sacred war, you know, and will entitle you perhaps to the glory of martyrdom.
Vaid. The enemy?
Walt. Aye, report says they are near us.
Vald. Be it so: I shall be prepared for them (drinks again).
Dart. (aside to Walt.) By my faith, he will be prepared for them, for he'll fill himself mortal drunk, and frustrate our project entirely. (Aside to Page.) Go, boy, and bid them make haste: thou understandest me?
Page. (aside.) Trust me for that: the Philistines shall be upon him immediately.
​ Countess. Valdemere is immeasurably fond of war and of military glory, which the tenderness of a too fearful mother has hitherto with difficulty restrained; and in your cause, charming Livia, he will be enthusiastically devoted.
Liv. I claim him then as my Knight, whene'er I stand in need of his valorous arms; though it may, perhaps, prove but a troublesome honour.
Vald. It is an honour I would purchase—aye, purchase with a thousand lives——I say it, divine Livia, with a thousand lives.——Life!—life!—What is it but the breath of a moment: I scorn it. (Getting up from table, and reeling about.) The enemy, did they say? Let an host of them come: this sword shall devour every mother's son of them.—I'm prepared for them all.
Bar. (aside to Dart.) He is too well prepared; we were foolish to let him drink so much.
Countess. (aside to Vald.) Be seated again, you disturb the company.
Vald. (still reeling about.) Aye, divine Livia; but the breath of a moment; I scorn it.
(An alarm without: re-enter Page, as if much frightened.)
Page. O my Lady Livia! O my master! O gentles all! a party of the enemy is coming to attack the castle, and they'll murder every soul of us.
Vald. Speak plainer, wretch; what said'st thou?
​Page. (speaking loud in his ear.) The enemy are coming to attack the castle.
Vald. Thou liest.
Page. I wish I did; but he will confirm my words.
(Pointing to a Servant, who now enters in alarm.)
Ser. (to Vald.) He speaks truth, my Lord! they are approaching in great strength.
Vald. Approaching! are they near us then?
Page. Aye, marry! too near. They beat no drum, as you may guess; but the heavy sound of their march strikes from the hollow ground most fearfully.
(Valdemere becoming perfectly sober, stands confounded.)
Liv. (and the Ladies, much alarmed.) What shall we do? What will become of us?
Dart. Have courage, Madam; have courage, Ladies; the valiant Valdemere is your defender; you have nothing to fear.
Liv. (and Ladies, crowding close to Vald.) Aye, dear Count; our safety depends on you. Save us! Save us! We have no refuge but you. (All clamouring at once.)
Vald. Hush, hush, hush! They'll hear you. (In a low choked voice.)
Dart. Nay, don't whisper, Valdemere; they are not so near us yet.
Bar. Rouse ye, Count, and give your orders for the defence of the castle immediately.
Dart. We are ready to execute them, be they ever so daring.
​ Walt. There is no time to be lost; your orders, Count: do you comprehend us?
Vald. My orders!
Dart. Your orders quickly.
Vald. I am thinking———I was thinking———
Page. (aside.) How to save yourself, I believe.
Bar. Well, noble Count, what are your thoughts.
Vald. I—I—I am considering——
Walt. Thought and consideration become a good Commander, with some spice of activity into the bargain.
Dart. There is no time to deliberate; issue your orders immediately. Under such an able commander we may stand a siege of some days.
Vald. A siege!—Aye, the very thing—and so suddenly!
Page. You tremble, my Lord; shall I bring you drops?
Countess. Thou liest, Boy; get thee gone! (Aside to Vald.) Are you beside yourself? Tell them what to do; they wait for your orders.
Vald. I order them all to the walls. Haste, haste, (pushing off the Ladies who stand next him.) and man them as well as you can.
Bar. Woman them, you mean, Valdemere; these are Ladies you push.
Countess. Nay; you crowd upon him too much—you confuse him: he is as brave as his sword, if you would leave off confounding him so.
​ Liv. Dear Valdemere! What is the matter? Rouse yourself, rouse yourself! (A great alarm without.) Hear that sound: they are at hand; what shall we do? There is a vault by the side of this grotto, where we poor miserable women may be concealed, but——
Vald. (eagerly.) Where is it? My duty is to take care of you, dear Livia: come, come with me, and I'll place you in security. (Catches hold of the Page in his hurry, and runs off with him.)
Countess. Stop, stop! That is the Page you have got. Will you leave me behind you?
(As Vald. is about to drag the Page into a recess at the side of the stage , the Boy laughs outright, and he discovers his mistake.)
Vald. Off, Wretch! Where is Livia; come, come, my Life! where are you? (Stretching out one hand to her, while his body bends eagerly the other way.)
Liv. No, Count; I will not go. Alarm overcame me for the moment; but now I will enter the castle; and if the enemy should take it, they shall find me there in a situation becoming its mistress.
Omnes. Bravely said, Lady! Let us all to the castle.
Dart. With or without a commander, we'll defend it to the last extremity.
Countess. (going to Vald. and speaking in his ear, while she pulls him along with her.) Come ​with the rest, or be disgraced for ever. Did I put a sword by your side, a cockade in your hat, for this?
(A still louder alarm without, and exeunt in great hurry and confusion.)
SCENE III.
A Grove by the Castle; the Scene darkened, and moving Lights seen through the Trees from the Castle, sometimes gleaming from the Battlements, and sometimes from the Windows: Enter Nina, with a Peasant's Surtout over her Dress.
Nin. O, if in this disguise I could but enter the castle! Alas! the company are gone in, and the gate is now shut. I'll wait here till daybreak.—Woe is me! He past by me quickly, and heard me not when I spoke to him.——O mercy! Soldiers coming here! (Hides herself amongst some bushes.)
Enter Bounce, followed by Soldiers.
Bounce. Come, let us hector it here awhile; I'll warrant ye we make a noise that might do for the siege of Troy.
1st Soldier. Aye, you're a book-learned man, Corporal: you're always talking of that there siege. Could they throw a bomb in those days, or fire off an eighteen-pounder any better than ourselves?(Firing heard without.)
​ Bounce. Hark! Our comrades are at it on the other side: let us to it here at the same time. I'll warrant ye we'll make the fair Lady within, and my Lady's fair gentlewomen, and the village Cure himself, should he be of the party, cast up their eyes.like boiled fish, and say ten pater-nosters in a breath. (Voices without.) Hallo! hallo! comrades!
Who goes there?
Enter 2d Soldier and others.
2d Sold. What makes you so quiet, an' be hanged to you! An old woman with her spinning-wheel might be stationed here to as much purpose. I could not tell where to find you.
Bounce. By my faith, 'tis the first time Corporal Bounce was ever accused of not making noise enough. Come; we'll give you a round shall make the whole principality tremble. (They prepare to fire, when 3d Soldier enters in haste.)
3d Sold. Hold, there! Spare your powder for better purpose: an advanced corps of the enemy is coming in good earnest, and marching in haste to the castle.
Bounce. So, we're to have real fighting then! Faith, comrade, valiant as I am, a little sham thunder, and a good supper after it, would have pleased my humour full as well at this present time. Best take it! They must open the gates ​and let us in. What gentlemen are in the castle? We have no officer to command us.
2d Sold. The Chevalier Dartz is there, and Count Valdemere.
Bounce. Ah! he's but a craven-bird, that same Count: a kind of Free-mason-soldier, for parades and processions, and the like. If the young Baron de Bertrand were there, we should be nobly commanded.
3d Sold. Don't stand prating here; let us give the alarm to the rest of our comrades, and get into the castle ere the enemy come up with us.
Bounce. Come, then! But what moves amongst the bushes? (Pulling out Nina.) A girl, i'faith, disguised in a countryman's surtout.
Nin. O dear—O mercy! Don't be angry with me: I'm a poor harmless creature.
Bounce. Blessings on thee, pretty one! thou'rt harmless enough: don't think we're afraid of thee. Come away with us: we'll lodge thee safely in the castle. [Exeunt.