L££^ % '. ^W S3g ^mm^mm^l *»m set *®m M ►,S) m a 1 •3? iW MJs '■&* ® &Q ►.< $ : - I ® $3 vk«^ ■~Yv l VJ Cornell University Library PR 4409.C14A4 1886 The amber heart, a poetical fancy in thr 3 1924 013 452 929 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013452929 Ct)e QLtt&tx J^eart* tEfte QLmbtt J^eart THE AMBER HEART (# (J)oeftcaf Jancg IN THREE ACTS BY ALFRED C. CALMOUR Author of " Cupid's Messenger," " Love's Martyrdom," &c. Stand but upon the summit of a cliff And mark what pigmies men and women look Upon the beach a hundred yards beneath ; Then think of Nature's awful majesty, The vastness of her realm, her life eternal, And in that contemplation find humility. About us are a hundred million worlds, All whirling in an endless round of space ; Mighty upheavals daily give sweet life To species still undreamt of here on earth ; And yet the boundless arrogance of man Would claim, by right, for his especial use The sun, the moon, the starry firmament, And all the grandeur of the universe ! Act III. All Rights Reserved — For Private Circulation MDCCCLXXXVI TO R. K. HERVEY AND W. DAVENPORT ADAMS THIS PLAY IS DEDICATED AS A SLIGHT MARK OF GRATITUDE FOR THE SYMPATHY AND INTEREST SHOWN BY THEM IN ITS COMPOSITION December nth 1886 (Cflaractotf Silvio (A Poet and Troubadour) Geoffry (Lord of Stene) Ranulf (Duke of Andradell) Sir Simon Gamber CoRANTO Ellaline (Niece to Ranulf) Mirabelle (His Daughter) Katrona (Attached to the Duke's House) Cesta (Maid to Mirabelle) Scene ^TKe Q^lh of %nulf Period (for Costume) — Sixleenlli {jSftXEJ £0e ($mhv IfymL ACT I. Set Scene. — Room in the Castle. There is a deep window c, opening on to a terrace. This terrace is filled with beautiful plants and flowers, in the midst of which a fountain plays. Distant view of a lake bathed in golden sunset seen through window. There are two arched entrances r and l, covered by tapestry curtains. Cushions lie luxuriously among the flowers on terrace, and everything suggests a poetic feeling. Silvio is discovered reclining on the cushions. He plays a prelude, then sings, accompanying himself on the lute. Song. HP H E wild rose in the hedge is dead, A And haws have turned from green to red ; While squirrels house their Winter store, And redbreasts fearless 'proach the door. For Spring has changed to Summer prime, And Summer passed to Autumn time. And love is in the Autumn wind — Harkj how it whispers to the reeds — As to the willows they unfold Their passion for the marigold. Hark, how it whispers to the reeds. 8 Cfce amfeet $eart Silvio. There is a sympathy in tender song That saddens while it soothes ; as kindly-words Will tearful ease bring to a heart o'ercharged. {Puts down the lute with a sigh.) I strike a joyful note upon the lute, And in a self-created paradise Fancy I live enthroned with my love ; Till ev'ry chord in wailing mournful strain Sweeps down the airy fabric of my dream, And I awake to doubt and misery. Oh, Ellaline, dear life of Beauty born — Sweetest embodiment of sunny Joy, Whose laughter takes grim Sorrow prisoner — Smile on my love, that I may.be inspired To write such truths of thee, and of mankind, That all the world shall wonder at my verse ; And, wondering, worship ! (Enter Sir Simon Gamber.) Gamber. Sir Troubadour, I have been seeking you since early morn. By her I flatter with my love, I swear, Through glade and brake I've footed it so far That many a maid did enviously ask, " What lucky wench does sweet Sir Simon seek, So many miles from wooded Andradell ? " But, by the sex, why do you look so sad ? Has Ellaline been chary of her smiles ? Cfie amber ©cart. Silvio. Sir Simon Gamber. Tut, boy, 'tis all plain to me. I've traded in affection since my nurse Bribed me to love her with such daily gifts As comfits, kisses, and those candied sweets That children most affect. Silvio. I doubt it not. Gamber. To know love's symptoms, suffer love yourself. Be struck by Cupid's nimble shafts of flame, As I am now. Look well upon me, boy, So that your verse may truthfully report What outward workings show when men do love. Mark well the sad distraction in my face ; The eager eye that challenges regard ; My pallid cheek ; this arm that restless seeks To clasp with fond embrace the yielding waist Of spritish Cesta Silvio. In truth, Sir Simon, Saving the wish to girdle Cesta's waist, Which, in a man of nearly threescore years, Sits like blind Folly on a snowy head, These signs speak more of hunger than of love. Gamber. For love I'm famished, truly. Listen, boy. Though gifted with a hundred rare conceits Of phrase and form, I have no power to rhyme. Nay, pause awhile, the sum of all is this : I would indite some verses to my love, Some dainty, tripping, jingling, merry lines, io €&e am&er $eart That should make plain to her my qualities. Silvio. And you would have me fashion out this ode In praise of your most estimable parts ? Gamber. Such, boy, was my intent. For thy reward Silvio. Nay, tempt me not, Sir Simon. My poor muse Could not do justice to so brave a theme. Besides, the way to win a woman's love Gamber. Hold, hold, Sir Poet ! when you were in clouts, For forty years I had been up and down Testing each bait to trap a woman's heart. Topaz and ruby, diamond and pearl, And gifts of gold are fit enough for those That do not boast the graces I possess. But there, enough. For, see, like a young fawn, Decked out by childish hands, comes Ellaline. I will entreat her plead in my behalf. (Goes to door.) Silvio (aside). Oh lovely vision — beauteous bud of Spring — Let my warm passion ope' love's tender flow'r, Which churlish Winter hath kept closed so long ! Gamber (at door). Ah, my sweet mistress, in good time you come To join our plot against that wanton god Who gambols to the music of men's sighs. k (Enter Ellaline with flowers about her.) Ella. Good even, gentlemen. I come in time To find my cousin Mirabelle was right. She said, Sir Simon, you had not gone hence €&e amfjer $eatt " To join my uncle Ranulf in the chase. I've lost my wager, jesses, hawk, and bells. Gamber. Though you have lost, yet I will pay the fine. Ella. Why, Silvio, hark you, here's a gen'rous mood ! Silvio. Sir Simon's gallantry is known to all. Ella. A scarlet hood, and bells with silver tongues — So ran the wager. Gamber. The tongues shall be of gold, If you will use your offices for me, And praise my worth to Mirabelle's fair maid. Ella, (laughing). To giddy Cesta ? Ho, here's merry sport ! I am to catalogue your rarest parts, And, like a crier in the market place, Ding out your praises ? How shall I begin ? Gamber. Begin by praising my most tender heart, Which beats for her alone. Ella. Item, a heart, A tender heart, which beats for her alone. Proceed, Sir Knight. Gamber. Praise, then, my lusty age, And goodly frame — my leg, that might have stood As model for Apollo's, or that Greek's, Who, all unarmed, the lightning once defied. Ella. Item, a leg — 'twere better I said two. Gamber. Two handsome well-matched legs, finely proportioned. Ella. Item, two well-matched legs. Gamber. Finely proportioned. Ella. Then will I touch upon your winning smile, i2 c&e am&er fymt Your disposition, full of boundless mirth, Your courage, wisdom, and your wealth untold. Gamber. The jesses shall be yours, and golden bells. I leave a worthy advocate behind To plead in my_ behalf. Ella. Your cause is dear. Gamber. Now will I go, and find this truant maid. Sir Troubadour, I have no need of thee To put my many graces into verse. An angel pleads for me. (Exit). Silvio (aside). Her voice in praise Would make a hideous satyr seem most fair. Ella, (laughing). There struts the very soul of vanity. Sure such conceit in man was never seen ! Silvio. His foolish wit doth slander sober age. Ella. Nay, 'tis a sprightly wit, and in good truth It likes me to have merry sport with him. Silvio. All things give sport to thee. Ella. Would'st have me sad, And vex the air with groans as sick folk do ? When I was born, the fairy bloom was spread O'er wood and meadow, and the sunny beams Danced in the shadows to the hedge bird's song. I needs must laugh, or sadden, pine, and die ! Silvio. He'd be a churl to grudge the lark its note, Or rail against the scented breath of Spring. If I did chide, 'twas but in envious mood That all alike should share thy beauteous life. €&e amber $eart. 13 Ella. Then chide no more, but take thy sweet-voiced lute, And play such laughing, mirthful, elfish strains As shall make pale-faced Grief forget her woe, And smile upon mankind. Come,, now, begin. Silvio. I have no heart to play upon the lute ; And merriment in me would be ill-tuned. Ella. Now, by the god of music and of song (A fitting oath) , some change hath come o'er thee ! Has't taken sickness from too long a fast ? Coranto says ill humours should be fed, And uncle Ranulf, who, indeed, should know, Hath gravely stated that all manly ills Spring from poor appetite and want of food. You must eat heartily at supper-time. Silvio. If I could physic my distempered mind By feasting on rich meats and ruddy wine, The cure were quickly wrought ; but, Ellaline, My malady is deeply seated here ; {Touches his heart.) And for its ease I must leave Andradell. Ella. Leave Andradell ? Silvio. Aye, such is my intent. To-night I bid farewell unto the Duke ; To-morrow, ere the drowsy swineherd moves Tardy of foot across the glistening meads I shall be gone. Ella. Nay, nay, this is some jest ! Since Eastertide you've charmed us with your rhymes, And made the woodlands musical with song. 14 die am&er $eart Why, all the birds have wondered at your note, Which harsh and tuneless made their sweetest strains ; And even Echo which doth love to mock Hath joyed to listen to your melody. 'Twere cruelty to go ! Silvio. 'Twere death to stay. Ella. Are poets more susceptible than maids . To sickness and to pain ? Can they from air Take rank, infection ? Since I was a child, And came with dear Coranto here to live, I've wandered, all uncared, from morn till fall, In cloud and sunlight, and ne'er knew an ache. I know no pain save that which comes unsought To ev'ry man who loves a cherished life, And finds his fevered worship all in vain. This is some sickness that I know not of. Coranto is in medicine well skilled ; He shall thee advise. You do not understand. {playfully). This much, good Silvio, do I understand — • You purpose leaving us to-morrow morn. That must not be ; we cannot lose your songs. If uncle's bounty will not keep you here, I will augment it with a gift of mine. Silvio. To be near thee were rich enough reward, And for a gift had I but thy sweet love Ella. Alas, my Silvio, that I cannot give. Silvio. Then must I go from hence. At Gastrell's court Silvio Ella. Silvio Ella. €$e 9m&et $eart 15 I may forget Ella. We will not let thee go. Here come Lord Geoffry and my wayward coz ! They'll join their prayers with mine to keep thee here. Silvio. 'Twere better for my peace that I depart. The outspread feast hath little joy for him Who, starving, lacks the pittance of a meal. I will come to thee after supper bell, And say farewell. Pray, not a word till then ! Ella. I'll humour thee in this, for it may hap The generous wine will change thy foolish whim. Silvio (passionately) . Thy love would change the current of my life ; Give airy fancy to my grosser thoughts — (Takes her hand.) Ella. This ecstasy doth show a fevered pulse, In sooth Coranto must prescribe for thee, And I will be thy nurse, good Silvio. Silvio {aside). She is incapable of tender love Or she would smile on me ! (Goes off with a sigh.) Ella. Why, what a sigh ! 'Twas like" the wailing of a tree in March When with bare arms it wrestles with the wind. I wonder what can ail — But, as I live, If MiraTaelle's flushed face and Geoffry's mien Do truly speak, here is another storm. (Enter Mirabelle and Geoffry.) Mira. (as she enters). When ice and snow are signs of Summer's heat, And light is darkness, and the day the night, 16 Cfoe am&er J£>eart. Then, without question, will I take thy word ! Geof. You wrong me, Mirabelle, and, for a truth, Your nature is too choleric and hot- Mira. And yours too like a vapour that doth hang About the land in chill November-time ! Ella. Alack-a-day, dear cousin, here are words More suited to the temper of a hind Than one of noble birth — what is amiss ? Geof. I tire of justly weighing every thought, And giving reasons for my words and acts. Mira. You tire of me ? Ella. Nay, nay, I do protest. Geof. I've seen so many fashions that, perchance, I tire of one. Mira. You hear the monster mock ! He hath outworn me. Like a testy child He craves for a new toy ; but I'll not fret — There are a hundred quite as brave as he ! Geof. A thousand — nay, a million, if you will. Mira. I'll not be moved to passion, good my lord. Geof. 'Twere hard to move you to do aught but chide. Ella. I must make peace between you — come, be friends. Geof. If on her disposition you could graft Some of your gentle nature, Ellaline, Or, by example, make her less a shrew, I would bestow on you such precious gifts As queens might envy. But that wish were vain, For wise Coranto hath taught me this saw — €&e amber $eart 17 " Who thinks by precept women folk to rule, Knows not the sex, and proves himself a fool." {Exit.) Mira. Call him back, cousin, I was but in jest. Indeed, I meant to give him no offence ! Ella. Your voice was harsh, and men like not a scold. Mira. Dear Ellaline, speak fair in my behalf ! Ella. You shall sit next him at the supper board, And, in soft tones, confess you were at fault, And I will warrant, ere the meal be o'er, These clouds will melt like mist before the sun. Mira. I will confide my fears to thee, dear coz. Ella. What foolish doubts hang now about your brain ! Hast conjured up a tempest since the morn ? Imagination only should be wooed, When, all bright plumed, it wings its airy flight Through the sweet realms of joyous phantasy. Mira. Nay, listen, Ellaline ; my fears are real. Geoffry, whose heart was mine until to-day, Hath been by reason or some fancied wrong Turned from his loving way. Oh, dearest coz., Go to him straight, and say how my fond heart Yearns for his better thoughts. Ella. Nay, comfort thee. Thy waywardness — let it not hap again — Will surely be forgiven. Mira. Forgiven, aye ; But will his love return ? Oh, Ellaline, Were I to lose that, I, should go distraught ! 1 8 Cfje amber $eark Ella. I do not know this witchery called love, Which runs like a distemper in the blood ; Yet for all harmless life I have regard. Friendship for youth, and reverence for age, And for the sick, a pity far more keen Than many who will answer groan with groan — It must be some disease which I am spared. Mira. Now can I see the cause of your bright life, Which sorrow never dulls. Ella. What is the cause ? I'm eagerness to learn Mira. 'Tis lack of heart, Which, in a maiden, is, indeed, far worse Than any sickness known beneath the sun. Ella. Yet can I feel, within my bosom here, A tuneful throbbing that denies your words. Mira. A heartless woman may still have a heart. Ella. Does heartlessness mean freedom from all pain ? You suffer, sigh and moan ; yet I am blessed With boundless spirits, happiness, and health. Love is a sickness, I am sure of that, A common sickness to folk hereabout ; For vain Sir Simon — our good Silvio too, The giddy Cesta, and austere Katrona, And even Geoffry, have all shown its mark. Mira. (eagerly). Has Geoffry spoken words of love to you ? Ella. Aye, truly, coz., and I did gently bear With what I thought a strange infirmity. €&e Smfjer Jjjeart 19 Mira. (passionately). 'Tis plain you are a roguish hypocrite, And all your ignorance a mock and sham ! Ella. Nay, cousin dear Mira. I will not hear a word ! (Horn heard.) Ella. Ah, here is uncle Ranulf from the chase, He shall be judge between us ! Mira. I'll not stay To have my passion turned into a scoff. Ella. He will condole with thee, as I do now. Mira. Keep your condolence for that troubadour Who draws his inspiration from your smiles ; And, if your heart be capable of pain, I'll wring it ere the moon be at its full. (Exit.) Ella. What a strange fancy hath o'ertaken her. Her fiery spirit ever did rebel 'Gainst gentle words ; but she was never thus. Can these be symptoms of that grievous ill Which hath afflicted her ? (Enter Ranulf.) Ranulf. Sweet Ellaline Ella. Ah, dearest uncle, I'm right glad you're come ! Ranulf (kissing her) . Was not that Mirabelle went hence but now ? Ella. She parted from me but a moment since. Ranulf. She should have tarried till I bid her go. Although I ever treated her most dear, She hath of late been slack in her regard ; 20 c&e amber $eatf. And filial love is Nature's common debt, Which every child should take delight to pay. Ella. Nay, dearest uncle, Mirabelle, I'm sure, Has never wavered in her fond regard. A maiden's life hath numberless demands ; She has been busy with her pensioners. Ranulf. Since you extenuate, I'll say no more. Who could so sweet a sorceress resist ? (Pats her cheek.) Ella. Dear uncle, tell me this Ranulf. ' Well, merry one ? Would'st know what sport we had with bonny Midge ? Ella. You shall recount it all at supper-time. Now, uncle, I am curious to know, What is that sad affection of the heart Whiclv men call love ? Ranulf. You simple little witch, That you will learn before the wrinkles come. Love, that right gaily stirs the feeble pulse, Is like rich ruby wine, juicy and rare, Which leaps along the veins, and, in mad sport, Attacks the very stronghold of the heart, And beats its warder down. But see who comes Ella. Sir Simon, as I live, — and Cesta too. Ranulf. We'll bait him for our pastime — smoke the fox. Ella. I vowed to paint his graces to the girl When wind and tide should serve — I'll do it now. Ranulf. It is an old fox, silvered in the chase. See how he scents the danger from afar. (Calls.) Cfie amfier $eatt 21 What ho, Sir Simon ! Good Sir Simon, ho ! (Enter Sir Simon, followed by Cesta.) Ella, (as he enters) . Prithee, Sir Simon, we attend on thee. Gamber. 'Tis I do wait on thee, fair Ellaline. This maid and I have come to — as it were — To parley — Eh, my lord, not supping — Eh ? I smell the roast Ranulf. 'Twere better that you fed That wizzand, hungry, lantern frame of thine, Than play the lover to this comely wench. Cesta. Pleasing your grace, Sir Simon hath to-day, With youthful ardour, offered me his heart. Gamber. And you were cold as rime on Winter morns. Ranulf. Your heat, Sir Simon, should have melted her. Gamber (to Ellaline) . Now, sweetheart, 'tis the very place and hour To plead my cause. Ella. Remember my reward. A scarlet hood and bells with silver tongues^ Gamber. Aye, golden tongues, if you will straightway speak. Ranulf (aside) . What mischief hath the merry jade on foot ? Cesta (to Ranulf). By your good leave I will retire within. (Going.) Ranulf. .What, part without a kiss — a fond embrace ? Marry, Sir Simon, where's thy vaunted warmth ? Gamber. Nay, I will comfort her. (Offers to kiss her.) Cesta. Away — away ; I care not to be scrubbed ! 22 c&e amber JDeatt Ranulf. Her answer, Simon, Is keener than the razor you have used. Gamber. The child is shy — no more. Come, pretty one- Cesta. Away, I say, or I shall spoil thy ruff ! (Ranulf laughs.) Ella. Nay, Cesta, ere you break Sir Simon's heart, That tender heart which beats for you alone Gamber. You hear that, child — " which beats for you alone." Ranulf. Disease and Death are courtly gentlemen, And, for a maid, will surely waive their claim. Cesta.' Would you persuade me, madam, to yield up My freedom and the joy of serving you ! Ella. You should, at least, be fully made aware Of all the graces, and the rarer parts, Sir Simon doth possess. Gamber. Mark, Cesta, mark. Ella. First note his goodly frame and lusty age. Ranulf. A goodly frame, scarce strong enough to bear His weight of ill-spent years. Gamber. Peace, prithee, peace ! (Aside) Descant upon my leg — with maids 'tis all. Ella. Stand back, Sir Simon — now, a pace to right, So I can show thy many graces off. Now, Cesta, note his leg — his left leg, Cesta — Ranulf. Hath he but one to stand on ? Ella. Why, that limb Might for Apollo's well indeed have stood, Or his who dared the lightning to defy. Ranulf. He hath, indeed, a look of Ajax now, €&e arn&et J£>eart. 23 Ella. Sure, Cesta, such a smile would soften rocks. Smile, good Sir Simon — Cesta, mark his smile. Cesta. 'Tis such a smile as painters give to toads, When, open-mouthed, they woo. (All laugh.) Gamber. Where learnt you thus To mock a gentleman, my lady cat ? Ella. Nay, good Sir Simon, smile upon her still. Ranulf. The toad would be an ox. Gamber. You pincushion, I would have lifted you from servitude ! (Bell heard.) Cesta. I much prefer, Sir Simon, to remain In happy service. (Exit, with a curtsey.) Ranulf. Simon, let us in. The bell doth speak of supper, and, in truth, I have an appetite for that same roast Which you did smell but now. Come, take my arm, And let us rail against the faithless sex. Ella. Sir Simon hath a forfeit yet to pay. Gamber. I'll pay thee nought — thou wert as bad as she. A pest upon you all ! I will not trust The best of you again. Ranulf. Come, Simon, come. (Exeunt.) Ella, (laughing). The poor wretch suffers from that malady Which mocks at youth and makes a jest of age. What can this passion be that thus affects The judgment, health, and temper of mankind ? Ah, hither comes Coranto, wise and good ; 24 €&e amfier $eatt I'll ask him to explain the cause of love. Alas ! Katrona hangs upon his words • As if she would her appetite appease, By feasting on his store of precious thoughts^ I'll hide me here till she hath gone to sup. (Retires behind tapestry hangings.) (Enter Coranto and Katrona.) Cor. (as he enters). I do admit, Katrona, the rich fruit, That has outlived the Summer's fiery heat (A period akin to youth in maids),. Is far more toothsome than that unripe plucked. Kat. Yet you are cold and backward in your love. Ella, (aside). They talk of love, I cannot choose but list. Cor. When, good Katrona, did I ever hint, By word or sign, that I did hold thee dear ? Kat. Never by word or sign, for you are wise, * And hide the trap till you have caught the game. Ella, (aside). Methinks the game itself hath set the trap Cor. Listen, Katrona, for I now confess An admiration for your comeliness, And will, indeed, to you so far admit, That, were I free to act as I desire, I would acquire the mellowed rosy fruit That all too tempting hangs within my grasp. Kat. Since the mouth hungers why not gather quick ? Ella, (aside). The fruit will fall ungathered if he wait. Cor. My reason, chuck, is this. Dear Ellaline, The precious charge deposited with me, €&e amfier tytaxt. 25 Claims all my watchful care. Ella, (aside). He speaks of me. Kat. But why should she put gyves upon your choice ? Cor. I was a jester at her mother's court, And ere she died, so great her boundless trust, She bade me watch the growth of her sweet child, And gently train, as gard'ners do a flower (A dainty flower that blossoms all alone), Its budding life. Ella, (aside). That you have done, dear heart. Kat. But Ellaline is now a woman grown, And will take wings and fly from out the nest ; Already loving eyes are on her fixed ; And when she loves Cor. That will she never do. But let us in — the Duke hath ere this sat. Kat. I will not yield thee up so easily. The Autumn still is young and I will wait. Cor. The fruit will wither if it hang too long. Come, let us go within. (Katrona goes off: Coranto is about to follow.) Ella. Coranto. Hist Cor. Who calls on me ? The voice is Ellaline's. Ella, (emerging). And to the voice I have a stronger claim Than any that I know ! Cor. You bonny ghost — Where have you sprung from and what do you here ? Know you the Duke has gone within to sup ? 26 c&e amfier ^eatt Ella. To be absolved, one must confession make. Now, dear Coranto, I will straight confess That I was present at your interview With stern Katrona, that ungathered fruit- Cor. Did'st overhear the subject of our talk ? Ella. I could not help it, for you spoke of me. Cor. (aside). She did not catch the heart of our discourse, Or, hearing, could not understand its drift. Ella. Coranto, I have sought you out to learn, Knowing your wisdom, truth, and honesty, Why I, alone, within these castle walls, Am never troubled with those pains of love Which sore afflicteth all ? Cor. Dear child 'tis known To those who deeply study human kind, That half our woes are seedlings of our will ; Our disposition being so far our own That we, by patience, can o'ermaster it. The daily joy of your sweet, happy life Springs from content. Ella. And can content so charm That it will free us from all grief and pain ? Cor. Aye, dearest child, it can do that and more. Content will set a beggar on a throne, And make him ruler of a treasure land' Far richer than that overswayed by kings ! Ella. What wond'rous power ! Cor. Now listen, Ellaline, C&e 9m6et i£>eart 27 Before I came to dwell at Malrebar, I once was in the service of a lord, Who bade me play the fool before his guests, Dressed in an ass's skin, or else go starve. I bade him wear the ass's skin himself, ■ Fit emblem of the folly stored within. He dr6ve me forth, and I was forced to live On roots and berries till I won for friend Cathaldus — a philosopher and sage. Ella. 'Twas he my dearest mother knew. Cor. The same. Ella. Prithee go on. Cor. Our daily food was bread ; For drink, the running stream. Ella. What beggar's fare ! Cor. Yet with this beggar's fare was I content, Nay, happy, for Cathaldus taught me how To pluck the fruit that countless centuries Had ripened in the minds of wisest men. Ella. Since you, in knowledge, found this happiness, So I would learn, Coranto, for mine ease, More about love, its scope for good and ill. What is this sickness ? Is its power so great That it can put restraint upon the gay, Make slaves of freemen, and demand its due From prince and peasant equally alike ? Cor. You have been dowered with a priceless gift, Yet, like the blessed sunlight to the blind, 28 / c&e amtier $eart. You cannot estimate its precious worth. This love which you would know is deadlier far Than hooded nightshade, or the maddened bite Of a she-wolf that hunger hath assailed. Envy and Hate, and murd'rous Jealousy, Spectral attendants, follow in its course. All other ailments cease when we are dead, But this will quicken in another's breast ; And love, long hid, will blossom forth anew, Its flower, regret ; repentance, its sole fruit. In every heart the poisoned seed is sown Ella. If that be so, how comes it I am free ? I have a heart ; I feel it beating here. Content, I'm sure, is not the only cause Why love hath passed me by. Cor. I will not lie. At first I thought to hide the simple truth, And let you live in blissful ignorance By making sweet content the amulet Which kept your heart from pain. Ella. Then 'tis not so ! Cor. The time, dear child, hath come when you should learn The cause of your bright, happy, joyous life, So that you set a value on the charm Which else might seem a toy devoid of worth. Ella, (laughing). Bear I, like fairies, then, a charmed life ? Cor. Listen, fond one. A few words will suffice To tell you the plain truth. €&e amber $eart. 29 Ella, (with joyous action). A spright, an elf; Yet am I bound to earth ! Prithee, go on. Cor. Some women, when they love, yield up their lives Unto a slave, who wearies in a year. So with your mother ; ere she had been wed A score of months, her treacherous lord had fled From Malrebar. This blow struck at her heart, And she was like to die, aye, would have died, Had not Cathaldus, whose advice I sought, Entrusted to my care an amulet, Which had the power to banish from her heart The pangs of love, and, from her life, all grief, Making the past but as a troubled dream. Ella. And this hath kept me with a merry heart, Making my life a dream of happiness ! Cor. Aye, dearest Ellaline, indeed 'tis so. Ella. What is the charm that holds such wond'rous power ? Is it my ebon casket ; or, maybe, The golden shield, all richly overlaid With pearls and rubies, sways my destiny ? Cor. Nay, 'tis the little heart about your neck. Ella. This heart of amber ; what, this worthless toy Which I have only worn to cast reproach On Mirabelle for wearing such rich gawds ? {Laughing) Is this the wond'rous charm that keeps me free From all those pains which other women feel ? Cor. Aye, Ellaline, its power is masterful. Ella. And were I to destroy or cast it off, 3° Cfoe amber &eart Should I then love as men and women do ? Cor. In good sooth, aye. Ella. And cousin Mirabelle Could not then say I was without a heart, Or chide me for my want of sympathy ? Cor. Has she done this ? Ella. Yes, and good Silvio too. , But they shall chide no more. \ Cor. What would you do ? Ella. Challenge the merit of this wond'rous heart, And see if, in its cloudy shape, there be A charm at all. Cor. Nay, nay, I do entreat ! Ella, (with a laugh as she goes to the window). You said, the daily joy of my sweet life Sprang from content. I have my doubts of thee ! Cor. Hold, hold your hand ! (Tries to prevent her throwing out heart.) Ella, (laughing as she throws it out of the window'). 'Tis gone into the lake : See how the water moves in fairy rings ! Cor. My child, you've lost the dearest thing in life, Unless a miracle can bring it back ! (Exit.) Ella. With what a tone of gravity he spoke. Can it be true that I have cast away The precious guardian of my happiness ? If it be so, I shall awake betimes To find I am as other women are. C&e 2Lmbet ^eart. 31 (Enter Silvio.) Silvio (aside). She's here alone. Now will I say farewell. Ella. Silvio. Ella. Silvio Ella. Silvio Ella. Silvio Ella. Silvio Ella. Good Silvio, art sent to seek me out ? I've played the truant from the supper board. The time hath come, sweet, gentle Ellaline, When I must say farewell. Farewell ! Nay, nay, You do not mean it ! This is but a test, To try what store I put upon your verse. Ere night's closed lids have ope'd on grey-eyed dawn I shall have bid adieu to Andradell For evermore. The time was, Silvio, When you would save from pain the meanest thing : Now you are cruel to those who should be dear. There is no dearer thing on earth than thou ! Empty and poor all other beauties are Beside thy loveliness. Art speaking truly ? Yes, on my soul, which I would freely give For thy fond love ! Is it so precious, then, This love of mine ? Aye, dearest Ellaline, More precious than the light which gives glad life To tender flowers ; for, were I stricken blind, With thee I should be in a paradise ! (tenderly). Then go not from me, Silvio. 32 Cfje ambet &eatt Silvio. You love me ? (Takes her hand. Music is heard within, and the moonlight creeps in.) Ella. I know not ; but I feel within my heart A sweet joy hitherto unknown to me. I seem to have awakened from a dream - To a new life of speechless happiness. I know I'm Ellaline — this is my hand, Yet did I never tremble so before, Or feel such wild delicious ecstasy. Silvio. These are the symptoms, dearest one, of love. And, as the sun pales all before its fire, So love makes faint the sweetest rhapsody. Entwine your arms about me, Ellaline, That I may know this is not all a dream. (Takes her in his arms.) What joy to hold you close within To hear your heart with rapture sing aloud, [mine arms, " I love you, love you, love you, Silvio ! " Ella. ' If it be love never to wish to part From him who raises in my panting breast Such fond delight, then do I love thee well. (He kisses her.) The world has passed away and, in its place, I see a fairy realm, all rainbow hued ; And we are there together, dearest one. Nay, do not speak, I know it is a dream, Let me dream on. (She folds her arms round Silvio, resting her head on his shoulder, as enter Coranto.) Cor. (aside). Too late ; I come too late. (Slow curtain.) €&e am&er $eart 33 ACT 11. A Month After. Set Scene — A beautiful Garden near the Castle. Coranto and Katrona discovered. Kat. What says the song, Coranto ? Why in truth, , " My lord and lady, maid and hind, And ev'ry bird, and beast of kind, Will turn to love, should they be wooed When Cupid's in an am'rous mood." Cor. There's reason in the rhyme, but yet, dear soul, No word of wedlock caught my watchful ear. Sweet love is universal. See yon fly, That sports in giddy circles round and round Its fairy kin ; now hither, thither now, Kissing everywhere. Such is insect love. In yonder woods are herds of dappled deer ; They love, and are most faithful to their choice. The snowy-breasted bird, that restless flits Upon the bosom of the lake, loves too, And for a season will devote its life Unto the partner of its sedgy nest. Kat. And I was once beloved by thee, Coranto. 34 Cbe am&er fyttLtt Cor. I have a fond regard, Katrona; still For that inviting buxom comely form. But then to wed — that were to forge a chain Which could not be so lightly shaken off As drops of water from the swallow's wing. Kat. 'Tis scarce a month since you confessed to me An admiration warmer than regard ; A month since Ellaline, the only bar To my advance, Coranto, in your love, Gave her young heart unto the troubadour, And you have tired. Cor. Not so, my sweetest one, My love is evergreen. Kat. Nay, you have tired ; You do not fondle as, indeed, you used, Nor pat my cheek ; nor call me your own child. Cor. (patting her cheek). There, rest content, I'll father you at once. If like a timorous steed I shy somewhat At the sunk fence of wedlock ; still, in time Kat. If wedlock be a sunken fence to you, Then why not boldly take it at a leap ? Cor. I have my fears Kat. Coranto, so I thought. Cor. Nay, not of thee, but of that troubadour, Whose constancy to Ellaline I doubt. Kat. Ah ! there, dear heart, I, too, have had my fears. Yet he hath won the Duke's consent, and sure €&e am&er $>eart 35 In four short weeks he cannot so have cooled That all his fire is quenched. Cor. He is a poet, Full selfish in his verse, and fanciful As women when they bear unto their lords An image of themselves. I've watched him close, And noted, to my grief, that he hath fed Upon her beauty till the joy hath palled. Kat. Then, dear Coranto, is the proverb true, " A poet's love will scarce outlive a day." Cor. Of late I've met him in the cedar woods With Mirabelle, in closest conference ; And, as they passed, methought she wore a smile ; A mocking smile — such as you women wear When you are crudest to your enemies. Kat. Nay, nay, Coranto, we are never cruel, Unless in our affections we are crossed. Cor. What motive can she have to rudely wake Sweet Ellaline from out her dream of love ? The child hath ever been to her most fond. Kat. Your poet is to blame. Cor. Upon her face Hath lately sat a wistful tenderness, As if her spirit wrestled with her fears. If he be false 'twill break her gentle heart. Kat. We women are alike — foolish and fond, So have a care, Coranto ! Have a care — Cor. Sir Simon has returned. See, by his side, 36 Cfje amber J£eart. How Cesta tosses up her pretty head. Kat. The flaunting hussy hath no sense of shame, Or she would not go gadding all alone In open day. Cor. 'Twere better.day than night ! For night air is infectious to young maids, And, mushroom like, may ripen in their hearts Most dangerous desires. (Enter Cesta and Gamber.) Gamber (as he enters) . Say I am wrong, And sweet, it shall be so. Cesta. In sooth 'tis so, Sir Simon Gamber. Nay, call me Simon, sweetheart, Your doting Simon. Cor. (aside to Katrona) . A doting dotard sure. (Aloud) Well, now Sir Simon, what is this dispute ? Gamber. Coranto, you shall be our arbiter. Cesta. I say my lady was not habited In hat and plume, when she a-hawking went. Gamber. But different sport must needs, my bonny sweet, Be differently attired. When I go hunting I don my russet cloak ; but when with thee I wear my crimson hose and pointed shoes. Cor. Sir Simon's right ; all seasons bring their change. The clucking goose at yuletide wears the buff , In honour of the time and company. Kat. A goose is still a goose, whate'er it wear. Gamber. Ah ! madam, you aire wise, and can at once C&e am&er l£>eart 37 Convince this wayward maid that Mirabelle Was so attired when she with Silvio left. Cor. With Silvio ! Was he her escort, then ? ' Cesta. In that we are agreed. Gamber {to Coranto). Where's Ellaline ? If she be still within, all doubts must cease. Coranto, what say you ? Cor. She is within. Gamber. What said I, Cesta ? Sweet, confess you're wrong. Cesta. Nay, right or wrong, Sir Simon, you're at fault. Cor. {aside to Katrona). Again with Mirabelle ; this but confirms What I have noted with a trembling fear. Kat. {aside). Alas, Coranto, men are changeful things. Gamber. Ah, hither comes Lord Geoffry. Cesta, mark How I his slumb'ring jealousy will rouse. Cesta. Best have a care. Gamber. There's famous sport toward. {Enter Geoffry.) Geof. Coranto, I am glad to find you here. I should have sought you Cor. Then are we well met. Gamber. I had a hope, my lord, your search was made For Mirabelle, that dainty peerless queen ; Then might my services have been of use. Geof. I thank you, sir, for your most kind intent. Gamber. Nay, thou art welcome ; and, by the god of love, 38 €be am&er ^eart. I thought at first 'twas thee I did espy So close engaged with her in Birdell woods, Pulling the oxslip from its ferny bed. Cor. Sir Simon suffers from a mocking eye, That, will-o'wisp-like, leads him all astray. Gamber. Nay, I can see as far through a yew hedge As any man or woman hereabout. It was young Silvio — I am sure of that. Sweet Cesta saw him too. Cesta. Nay, I saw naught. Geof. Now, by my soul, what is this all to me ! If Orpheus teach Eurydice to sin I am untouched ! Kat. (to Cesta). Come, Cesta, let us in. Gamber. Of course — I meant not that. Geof. Then what did'st mean ! Wert not so old I'd pluck thy waspish sting, And see what poison's hid ! Cor. Nay, my lord, nay. Sir Simon loves a jest. Geof. ' Then for his life Let him not jest with me ! Gamber (aside). I will within, Now I have set the spark in a full blaze. (Aloud.) My lord, I will not notice your rough words. When men are angered, then their passion speaks And not their hearts. My love is still with you, And with you all. (Exit.) €&e amber ^eatt 39 Kat. Come, Cesta. Coranto, We'll on the subject of our last discourse Have further talk. Cor. Whene'er the time shall serve. Kat. Come, Cesta, come ! Cesta. Madam, I wait on thee. (Exeunt.) Cor. You've sought me out Geof. No need for me to tell Why I, Coranto, your good counsel sought ; , This aged prattler hath to all the world Made known my fears. Cor. ■ 'Tis then as I suspect. Geof. Dost think, Coranto — look up, man, and say — Dost think this singer, poet, troubadour, What e'er you will, hath cozened Mirabelle ? Cor. I'm thinking of a flower but half unclosed, Whose tender life will wither on its stem Long ere its heart has opened to the sun. Geof. You mean poor Ellaline. Cor. She fills my thoughts. I love her as a father loves that child Whose angel face brings back to his fond gaze The cherished helpmate of a troubled life, Who has gone on a little way before To greet his coming. Geof. If he play her false I'll make her quarrel and mine own as one. Cor. You must not act alone upon your fears. 4° €&e 9m6et $eart Geof. Till I'm assured, assure yourself of this, My sword will sleep uneasy in its sheath. When once I have confirmed what I suspect, I promise you the reckoning shall be -short. Cor. Then be advised ; till that be done, my lord, Let not false rumours move you to rash deeds ! For 'tis well known — would it were heeded more — When truth and falsehood in the scale are weighed The lightest breath of slander will bear down The even balance — make it kick the beam. A particle, not larger than the mote That on a sunbeam pendulously swings, Will the bare eye of judgment so distort That truth shall seem as falsehood — falsehood, truth. Geof. Falsehood or truth may point me out the way Which, heart and soul, I'm eagerness to tread. Cor. No more, I pray, for here comes Ellaline ; I would not, good my lord, that she should think We did discourse of her. Geof. I will be gone When I have greeted her. Another's grief Will, in a measure, soothe more than kind words. (Enter Ellaline. She is somewhat changed in appearance since last Act..) Ella, (with a smile). Why, my Lord Geoffry, not a-hawking gone ? The day is fair, and Queen and Prince would joy To sail in hot pursuit before the wind ; €&e am&er i^eart 41 Braving the cloudy squadrons in their flight. Thou'rt not a laggard, sure ! Geof. Nay, Ellaline. I have been busy hunting to and fro, Hoping to find (Aside) Her name sticks in my throat. Ella, (aside) . Hunting for her who wanders with my love. Cor. (aside) . They pause in fear, as if their thoughts were one. Geof. Ah, yonder walks the Duke. My search is o'er. My loving duty to you, Ellaline. Ella. And mine to you. (Exit Geoffry.) (Aside) 'Twas Mirabelle he sought, Yet he refrained from speaking out her name, As if he would my spirit save from grief. Can he have marked beneath my words and smiles The sadness at my heart ? Cor. Quite lost in thought ? Ella. A silly mood, Coranto, which forgive. Cor. May I ne'er know forgiveness for my sins, If I do not from this unhappy state Win you, dear Ellaline, to mirth and song ! Ella. Nay, good Coranto, you mistake me quite ; I am as happy as I e'er can hope To be, where all is pain. Cor. We'll have no pain ! The day shall pass in merriment and joy, For we will plot together 'gainst the time, And make each hour so envious of the last - That night shall be long coming ; and the dawn, 42 €&e amtier $eatt. All eager to begin the round of sport, Shall lightly tread upon the heels of night To warn it of the day. Ella. And shall my love, Dear Silvio, join in our gladsome games ? I could not leave him sadly all alone To speed the time. He must be chief in this, Or he would think I had in my regard Grown cold and careless — maybe, tired of him, And he might slacken in his love for me, And that would break — : — (Shows signs of emotion.) Cor. (aside). I will not note her grief. (Aloud) He shall join too. Nay, dear one, do not doubt. Ella. Dost think I doubt, then, dearest Silvio ? To doubt were just to die — and I am gay And feverish to live my life in full. Nay, do not look so sadly. I can laugh As loud as any maiden loved as I. (Gives a sob.) Cor. And thou art loved right well. Ella, (eagerly). Dost think so truly ? Nay, nay ! I meant not that. Cor. I did not heed. My thoughts were framing endless joys for thee. We'll take long walks through fields of twinkling corn, And watch the poppies nod themselves to sleep ; We'll hunt, we'll hawk, and fish upon the lake ; And snare wild fowl upon the rushy land Beyond the wood, which we have passed so oft. €&e am&er $eart. 43 To-morrow we'll begin, and live again The life we used. Ella, (with a sigh). Ah, that can never be. But do not think I would, e'en if I could. To be beloved is a far sweeter joy Than all beside, and I am loved right well. You said so, dear ; those were your very words, And it is true, for you would not speak false. Cor. Remember, sweet, to-morrow we must rise To welcome in the sun as he upclimbs The boundless arch of blue ; and, Ellaline, Long ere the myriad flowers have drunk their fill, We will take boat and row upon the lake. Ella. Upon the lake, where lies the little heart That I flung idly from me. It may hap, Coranto, if I gaze into the depths, I shall espy it in its weedy bed ; And, though I would not have it for my own, Yet to look on it once might comfort me. Cor. To-morrow, then, we'll start at early morn With dispositions joyful as the day. Ella. And Silvio will come with us, I'm sure. He knows the ferny pathways through the wood, And he will love to come. Cor. {going). To-morrow, then. Ella. I shall not soundly sleep, lest I be late, For I do long, Coranto, to be gone. Cor. To-day, dear Ellaline, will soon have sped. 44 €&e amfier }£>eart At dawn I'll knock three times upon your door. Ella. Knock till I answer, then I will arise For fear I sleep again. Cor. I'll not forget. (Aside) Her heart yearns for the charm. I'd give my life To place it once again around her neck, So that she ne'er might know the misery Of fondly loving, when no more beloved. (Exit.) Ella, (musing). How oft I've walked at sunset, all alone, Where the tall rushes dip into the lake ; And, then, methought, they murmured as I passed, " The little heart is ours, and you have grief, Come, Ellaline, and sleep beside it here, Where all is endless happiness and peace — " And I have wept aloud, not knowing why ; And now I hear, although I try to smile, The murmur of the rush repeating' still, " The little heart is ours, and you have grief" ; But I'll not heed it, for within a month My love could not so change. Mine is the fault If he hath lately drawn himself apart. I should have traced the course of every wish, And met it midway. If he no longer Kiss me at morn or dewy eventide, It is because he's busy in his verse. Not that he loves me less. I hear his step. (Listens.) Yes, he is coming — but I will not show A sign of pain. I'll smiling greet him fair, €&e amber fymt. 45 And I will twine my arms about his neck, And tell him of my love. He's not alone. (Looks oft.) Again with her. My heart sinks in my breast. (Enter Silvio and Mirabelle.) Mira. (to Silvio, as she enters). Then meet me presently. Silvio. I shall not fail. Ella. My latest thoughts, dear Silvio, were of thee. I am right glad you're come. Silvio. And 'tis well said. A frosty welcome on a summer's day Is out of season, sure. Mira. Then, Ellaline, I doubt not you would wish to be alone With Silvio. Silvio. Nay, Mirabelle, there's nought Between us that you cannot hear. Mira. The child Hath got some fairy tale to tell — some dream Which she would wish to pour into thine ear. Is it not so, my sweet ? Ella. I have no wish, Save that to please in word, and thought, and act, The one I love the best. Mira. And that, dear coz., Is Silvio. (To Silvio.) Why, you should bend the knee, And make a fair reply. Sir Poet, come 46 C&e amber ^eart Flourish your hand, and place it on your heart, And swear eternal constancy and love. The child is pining for some sugared speech. Ella. Beneath the sugar poison often lurks ; Sweet words may be a mantle, Mirabelle, To cloak a treacherous act. Silvio. Coranto's thought. The fellow is a monument of wit. Mira. Say rather folly. Silvio. That I'll not admit. Ella. Coranto's wisdom is as infinite As his unselfish love and charity. He does not fawn and, dog-like, lick the hand, Or say soft things with hatred at his heart ; His nature is too open, brave, and true. Were all men such as he, a woman's life Would ne'er know grief or pain. Mira. Do you know grief? But then, dear Ellaline, that cannot be, For you do lack a heart — nay, do not storm, Or fly into a rage of angry words, Your pretty face should always know repose. Ella, (aside). ' Her cruel words stab, but I'll not let her see The anguish that I feel. Mira. Now I'll away, And leave you two alone. Silvio. Be not gone long. Mira. Good Silvio, list patiently I beg, fabz amber $>eart. 47 And comfort her fond heart, which only beats To please in word, and thought, and ev'ry act, The one she loves the best. (Exit with a light laugh.) Ella, (aside). I'll speak out now. Silvio. I prithee, Ellaline, take not to heart What Mirabelle hath said. She meant no harm ; Her mood was merry ; that is all, I vow. Ella. Her words, dear love, fell idly on mine ear, I have forgot the import of her speech ; My thoughts are all of thee, my Silvio. Silvio. Hast aught to say to me, before I go To doff my hawking suit ? Ella. Wilt tarry here ? (He sits with a sigh of impatience.) Nay, not so far away — sit by my side — For I have much to tell you, dearest heart, And much to question. Sooth, you must not frown ; I want to see a smile. Give me your hand ; I shall take courage to speak all my thoughts If it be clasped in mine. (Takes his hand.) Silvio. The time is short Before I must away, so dally not. What is it you would say ? Ella « My heart is full. Before you came — I said it to myself A score of times, and I felt such reproach— , Smile on me, dear, and I shall courage take ; I know I'm foolish, but I love you well, And if I have not shown my fond regard, 4 8 €&e am&er J^eart Or gladdened you as, dearest, you deserve, The fault was all my own ; and now I want You just to bear with me. I've been remiss, And did not watch your comfort as I ought. Silvio. Nay, nay, you did right well. Ella. I will do, love ; I'll try to serve you like a faithful hound, And learn to be your hand, and eye, and ear, So that your thoughts may all be in your verse ; And we will walk together as we used, Among the heather. Dost remember, love, How we would sit for hours beside the lake ; And you would sing to me, or read your rhymes, While I, all filled with wonderment and joy, Would list in dreamful silence ? Silvio. You listen well. That quality you have. Still, one soon tires Of approbation silently expressed. Coranto, too, hath often proved to me, A still tongue masks more ignorance than wit. Ella. I will not so offend you, dearest one, When you recount the work that now is ripe ; I will applaud right heartily and well. But when shall we go forth as we were wont ? To-morrow, dear ? I shall be up betimes ; At break of day Coranto will arise, And he hath promised to awaken me. Wilt join us then ? — Nay, turn not from me, love- C&e amfiet J£>eart 49 The next day we will tread the ferny paths, Or the day after, dearest — when you will, So it be soon. Silvio. 'Twere useless, Ellaline,, To pledge my word, when in my heart I know I should but hold it light. There was a time — In truth you have recalled it, Ellaline — When I did joy to walk with thee alone. Well, let that pass. Wilt come with me within ? Ella. There is a strange fear growing in my heart, Which I would not believe. Silvio. Gome, let's within. Ella. I will not doubt you, dearest, though each sign Were ten times plainer to my sight and sense Than it is now. I would not wrong you so, Believing you have cooled in your regard. s I know I have not loved you as I should, But — why dost turn away, afid hang your head ? My fears cannot be true ! Silvio. Nay, nay, be calm. Ella. Speak all that's next your heart. I will be calm, Whate'er you say ; I will not chide or frown. Silvio. I dare not try to justify my act ; I would not if I could. Look not so cold And proud. Ella. Go on. I wait. Go on. Silvio. Unbend, And be yourself, I pray. 50 Cfoe amfcer l£>eart. Ella. I listen still For -words that do not come. Go on, I beg. Silvio. When first mine eyes took light and love from thine, I worship'd thee as man ne'er worship'd saint. Mine was a passion that consumed my soul — I would have gladly parted with my life To pleasure thee ! But you turned not to love, And all my verse was empty, lifeless, poor ; But when I felt your arms about my neck, And knew your heart responded throb for throb, I bent my soul to work, and half achieved That which was dearer unto me than all ! Out of your love my inspiration grew, Until Ella. Nay, say no more, the rest is clear. Silvio. I cannot bid my heart beat fast at will Whenever you draw near. Love comes and goes, And man is not its master but its slave. I tried to love thee faithfully and well Ella. I do not chide, or utter one reproach, Yet do I understand thee all too well. Your love has gone out unto Mirabelle. Silvio. I said not that — — Ella. She now inspires your verse, And by her sympathy and kindly words, Helps to build up your monument to fame. I pray, and ever will, that she succeed Where I have only tried. Cfre am&et JJ>eart 51 Silvio. Come, EUaline. Ella. Nay, leave me here, I fain would be alone. She will be waiting for thee — keep her not. I prithee leave me now. I am right glad That thou art happy, dear. I, too, am joyed, And my fond heart is full, too full for words. Silvio. Then you forgive ? Ella. There's nought, dear, to forgive. Now go to her, for I would be alone. Yet, ere you go, I would you kissed me once. Silvio. With all my heart. Ella. Just once upon the brow. Silvio (kissing her) . 'Tis icy cold. Ella. Now get thee quick within, And tell her I am happy she is loved. Silvio. Come thou. Ella. I will sit here awhile and think. Do not heed me. I'm happy. Get thee in. Silvio (aside) . Her smile is far more piteous than tears. Were not my verse my life, I would forswear All that I now have said to win her back To peaceful happiness ! (Exit.) Ella, (as if dazed) . Methought it said, " The little heart is ours, and you have grief; And you have grief." But it was false — all false I'm very happy, for I told him so ; And yet the tears will come. Am I awake, 52 €&e amber i£>eart . Or is this all a dream ? Come, Ellaline, Bestir yourself; get up. My voice is strange. I know not who I am. I seem to be Some poor heartbroken wretch whom I have met In sleep. If I look round I may awake. {Looks round.) This is the garden that I know so well ; The old dial where I've daily marked the hour When he, my love, would come ; my love, whose love— Oh, misery, the truth breaks in on me, I am no more beloved by Silvio ! He was beside me here, and coldly said — The words ring in mine ears — " Love comes and goes, And man is not its master but its slave ; " And then he spoke of Mirabelle, and I — Oh, mother, mother, I am punished now, For casting your sweet gift into the lake ! My heart is broken, and I never more Shall know the joy of peacefulness again. (Sobs.) (Enter Mirabelle.) Mira. Was Silvio unkind ? Poor chick, take heart. Ella, (rising, and with passion). False-hearted woman, dare you mock and gibe, When all my grief springs from your perfidy ! Mira. Nay, sweet, what have I done to anger thee ? Ella. The tiger-cat is not more merciless ! The pois'nous rattle-snake is kinder far, For that gives out a warning ere it strikes ; €&e am&er fymt. 53 But you mask close behind a smiling face The deadly hate you bear ! Mira. I bear no hate. You are excited, child. What have I done ? Ella. You've snatched from me the one I loved most dear. Like a base thief you've stolen his regard, When it was all my own ! Mira. A month ago You dallied with my love. Ella. 'Tis false ! 'Tis false ! Mira. I vowed if your heart could feel aught of pain, I'd wring it ere the moon was at its full. You Geoffry took, and I, to win him back, Played with this troubadour ; took walks and rides. 'Twas life for life ; my love for yours. Ella. Take him, And 'joy your triumph, if your venomed heart Can find delight in misery and grief ! I yield him all to you ; wear him at will ; But if you suffer not as do the dead When they in life have outraged ev'ry law, Then there is neither justice for the wronged, Nor punishment for crime ! Mira. Art crazy turned ? Ella, (with a wild laugh). Aye, aye, I'm mad, but all my woes are gone ; I see a way to endless rest and peace ; I'll lay me down beside the precious heart 54 Cfje am&et ^eatfc -^ That I have lost. The rushes call on me. I come — I come ! My grief will soon be o'er. Tell him I've gone to pray for his success. They call on me again. Farewell, farewell, I must not stay. I come, sweetheart, I come ! (Laughs hysterically, and, as she is running off, Curtain.) €&e amber fytm. 55 ACT III. The Dawn of the next Day. Scene as in Act I. — Faint moonlight breaks in. Enter Ranulf, Sir Simon Gamber and Lord Geoffry. Ranulf (as he enters). Through her closed lattice shone no beacon To greet us with the tidings, she hath come [light From her long pilgrimage. Geof. Poor Ellaline ! Gamber. The child was merry, and I loved her well. Ranulf. She was beloved by ev'ry living thing ! Aye, ev'ry hedge and copse and blade of grass Was smiling fond, and seemed to know her step. The cedars in the wood, where I searched long For the dear one, seemed to bewail her loss, And, as I passed beneath, the big drops fell, As if they wept. Geof. > And well indeed they might ; For at her birth all Nature took delight, And beauteous lives in emulation tried To give her each perfection of its kind. Gamber. And by the woman I do love most'dear, I'll search until I find her— live or dead. 56 €&e amber ^eart. Ranulf. Death would not dare to grip her loving heart With his cold fleshless hand. She shall be found. Geof. Since yestere'en Coranto hath been out, And still he searcheth up and down the lake. Ranulf. And we'll renew tmr search when the pale sun Hath in his travel clambered o'er the hill. I will go see fresh horses are led out, So that we start with all the speed we may. (Exit.) Gamber. A ride at sunrise o'er the dewy grass Produceth ague, and though lusty framed, Yet must I have a care. Geof. Stay then at home. Gamber. What ! Stay within, while manhood calls aloud, " Get thee out, Simon — Simon, lead the way ! " Nay, I would swim a league upon the lake, Braving its weedy dangers, if I thought To find dear Ellaline. A pest, I say, Upon the troubadour ! Methinks that he, Good Geoffry, is the cause of this turmoil. Geof. By Heaven, I wait but to encounter him To make him answer for his treachery ! IJ11 give him scope to prove if he, in fence, Is half as skilful as he 'pears to be In winning maidens' hearts. Gamber. Were I not loved With such devotion, by my very soul, He would have tempted Cesta from my side, Had he done so, I would have spitted him €&e am&er $eart 57 * ' With less remorse than a plucked Guinea-hen. Geof. I'll not waste words when we are face to face, My sword shall straightway speak with fiery tongue ! (Enter Cesta followed by Katrona.) Gamber (to Cesta) Ah, sweetest one, art come to welcome us ? Kat. My lord, hath aught been seen of our dear child ? Cesta. Has she been found, Sir Simon ? Quickly speak. Gamber. Your Simon hath encountered dangers, sweet Kat. Where is Coranto, hath he not come too ? Geof. He seeketh still, like one indeed distraught. We have but now returned. Kat. And she is yet Unfound ? Gamber. We speed again upon our search As soon as we have changed our weary steeds. Come, Cesta, comfort me, e're I again Upon this expedition start. Come kiss Cesta (aside). Nay, not before Lord Geoffry ! Gamber. Art ashamed To own it pleasures thee to kiss me, sweet ? Of all the ailments women suffer from, The worst is coyness, sure. Kat. Dear Mirabelle Hath wept the whole night through, and says, indeed, She is alone to blame for all this woe. And, good my lord, had she not been restrained, She would, upon herself, have rashly done 58 €&e amber J£>eart. Such bitter deeds as we must all have mourned. Geof. Had aught befallen Ranulf 's only child, A double grief must needs upon us all Have straight been cast. Kat. And trebly so twi-thee, For she, my lord, hath tearfully confessed She ever loved but one. Geof. Well, let us in Gamber. Where is young Silvio, doth he weep too ? Cesta. 'Tis left for maids to weep. He stalks about, And says " cruel Fate doth dominate our lives, And we are what we are." Gamber. 'Tis so with men. We vow to live a sainted, holy life, When Fate, in guise of a fair shapely maid, With a trim ancle and a slender waist, Comes to beguile us to some pleasant sin ; And, in the twinkle of a wicked eye, Our resolution's nought. Cesta. Sir Simon, fie ! Kat. Wilt not go comfort Mirabelle, my lord ? Geof. She were best left alone. I'll join the Duke. Gamber. And I will lay me down. Cesta. Not sure to sleep ? Gamber. Nay, I will lie awake and ruminate On wedded joys. Kat. I'll to my lady straight, And say you have returned. Cesta. I will come too. (Exeunt.) €&e amfcer l^eatt 59 Gamber. How weary am I. Yet within the hour We must take horse and scour the country round. Geof. We'll find the child, if we've to search till fall ! Come, let us to the Duke. {Goes to door.) Gamber. I follow thee. (Exeunt.) (Enter Ellaline, looking pale and weary.) Ella. The dawn is past, and ere morn I must lie Beside the little heart. (Listens.) They have returned. I heard them searching for me in the wood, But, like a timid hare, I trembling hid Beneath the fern till. they had gone away. I could not die till I had bid farewell To the fond home I've grown so much to love. (Looks round.) Dear room, where I have passed so many All filled with girlish happiness and mirth, [hours, Farewell ! I will not weep, for I am glad That all my trouble now will soon be o'er. (Starts back with a cry, as she catches sight of herself in the mirror.) How like a ghost I look in the pale light. I should not know myself, so weary, wan. (Goes to window.) Within this window often have I sat Beside my love. 'Twas here he kissed me first And bade me twine mine arms about his neck Now, I am loved no more. But I am glad And will not weep, and, if the tears do come, I'll say it is for joy, and not from grief. 6o €&e 3m6er $eart. (To flowers) Sweet flow'rs, that I have cherished lovingly Until each bud seemed like a baby life, Farewell ! (Kisses them.) Some other hand will tend your When I am gone. I hope they will be kind, [wants For your sake and for mine. Hush ! someone comes. I'll softly steal along the corridor, And so to where .my mother's picture hangs, For I must look once more upon her face Before I lay me down. Her gentle smile Will give me strength to plunge into the lake. (Exit.) (Enter, at other side, Coranto.) Cor. Back to the castle ; but without a hope Of ever seeing Ellaline again. Oh, heartless Fate, to take her gentle life When the rough wind and waves, all angry white, Conjoined, as by a blessdd miracle, To yield me up the charm — the precious heart — That, like a spectral pearl, shone luminous In the pale crescent moon. Here is the power To give her back the joys of sweet content And happiness unbounded. Yet she's gone, And I shall never hear her merry laugh, Or look upon her smiling face again. (Enter Katrona.) Kat. Welcome, Coranto ; hast seen aught of her ? Cor. The child is dead Kat. Nay, dear one, say not so I Tell me, I prithee all that hath befall'n. Cor. My heart is sick, and I would be alone To nurse my grief. Kat. Come, let me comfort thee. Look up and smile. Cor. I ne'er shall smile again. Kat. Think she will yet return ; let your grief melt. The morning light will surely bring her back. _ Cor. I'll search from morn till e'en, and then again Till morn, and night shall find me still Upon my search. I will be satisfied That she's alive or dead, my sweetest child. Kat. Rest thee assured she lives, and will return Ere old hath grown the day ; but who comes here ? Cor. The cause of all our woe ! Get thee within ; I may not choose my words when he is by. Kat. Do nothing rash, I beg. Cor. Words cannot, kill, Or would he long have gone to his account. Get thee within. Kat. I'll wait on Mirabelle. (Enter Silvio.) ' (Aside, looking at Silvio.) There is a look of sorrow on his Yet he doth surely lack all sense of grief. (Exit.) [face, Silvio. Hath aught been seen, Coranto " ' fr Cor. Get thee hence ! Her coming or her going's nought to thee. 62 €&e amtier J^eart Silvio. You wrong me, by my soul. I deeply grieve That aught should have befallen Ellaline ! Cor. Your grief sits like a mask upon the face Of some poor player who has not learnt the art To simulate that which he fain would feel. Your love for Ellaline was so, no more. Silvio. By heav'n, you wrong me still, for I have loved Fair Ellaline with feverish passion ! Cor. Your feverish passion was a foul disease, A sad corruption, breeding pain and death ! Silvio. 'Twas life to me to be beloved by her ! If I have ceased to feel my pulses throb At her approach or music of her voice, The fault is in my blood, which will not stir At my command. Cor. You never loved the child ! Silvio. All beauteous things I cannot choose but love. Cor. Aye, for a day, a week, a month, no more ! Silvio. To wear her image for a single hour Is to live on in dreamful ecstasy, For years, in passioned poesy. The joyous time I've passed with Ellaline, Amid the leafy splendours of the woods, Have been recorded in such tuneful rhyme That lovers, yet unborn, will learn to plead In the soft language we have used, And, heart to heart, pour out their full of love ! Cor. So you would justify a theft of life, C&e 9m6er ^eart. 63 And hopeless bankrupt make a woman's heart, With its rich treasury of love and trust, To purchase empty fame ! Silvio. I am a poet, And look on Nature, animate and dead, As means to one great end. Cor. What is that end ? Silvio. To teach mankind a knowledge of itself ! I'd bare each passion, analyse each sense, Weigh ev'ry heartbeat in the panting breast Of her who suffered most for love of me, To make my name immortal among men And in their memory live eternally ! Cor. There are no bounds to your presumption. You talk of man as if he were a god, And could outlive a petty sum of years. Stand but upon the summit of a cliff And mark what pigmies men and women look Upon the beach a hundred yards beneath ; Then think of Nature's awful majesty, The vastness of her realm, her life eternal, And in that contemplation find humility. About us are a hundred million worlds, All whirling in an endless round of space ; Mighty upheavals daily give sweet life To species still undreamt of here on earth ; And yet the boundless arrogance of man Would claim, by right, for his especial use 64 Cfce amber ^eari The sun, the moon, the starry firmament, And all the grandeur of the universe ! Silvio. I'm humbled. Yet 'tis the fault of Nature We are thus, or, thus Cor. (at windbw). That figure yonder, Speeding towards the lake, s 'Tis Ellaline ! Merciful powers, she's going to her death ! Unbend, stern Fate, and let her life be spared ; Let not the water enviously clasp Her in its cold embrace. (Exit.) Silvio (after a slight pause). I too should fly ! Why do I tarry here ? Irresolution, Cursed be thy name, if any ill befall This gentle maid ! I'll follow him (About to go off, when he is confronted by Geoffry and Gamber.) Geof. Nay, stay. Gamber. Sir Troubadour, we have been seeking thee. Silvio. What would you with me — pray, some other time. Geof. (drawing his sword) Now, by my honour, you shall not go Till you have answered for your treachery [hence To Ellaline ! Draw and defend yourself, Or by my soul, I'll kill you where you stand ! Gamber. A dead man's neither fish, nor flesh, nor fowl ; Why, an old rooster is indeed more prized. Silvio. If Mirabelle hath cooled in her regard Geof. My tongue is in my sword ! (Prepares to fight.) Silvio. Then let it speak ! €&e amber J£>eart. 65 (Draws sword) I am so buffetted and low at heart, I care not what may hap. Gamber. A proper spirit, Which ev'ry courtly gentleman should show Before King Death. (They fight.) Gamber. Well parried, boy ! Again. Here are two masters. 'Tis a grand display Of tierce and carte. (They are fighting as enter Mirabeixe followed by Katrona and Cesta.) Mira. Hold, hold, I pray you both ! Kat. Here is foul murder tow'rd ! Cesta. Where is the Duke ? Mira. Stay your hand, Geoffry Geof. Fear you for his life ? Mira. I fear for thine. Silvio. Come, sir, and do your spite. Gamber. This is no sport for ladies. Get thee in. Geof. Enough of parley Mira. Nay, thou shalt not fight ! I know I am the cause ; but, Geoffry dear, My love was ever thine. If I did walk With Silvio — to my deep shame I own — 'Twas but to rouse thee to thy former state, When thou did'st love me well. Geof. It may be so. Mira. Your words of doubt are justly my reward For all the grief I've brought on Ellaline ! 66 e&e am&er ^eart. Geof. I fight for her, sq back, I prithee, back. Kat. Blood will be shed Cesta. Unless the Duke come quick ! Mira. You shall not fight, or if that be your bent, Kill me, for I indeed am all to blame ! Silvio. Nay, I alone am culpable in that. Geof. And so we fight — Come to't without delay. (Enter Ranulf.) Ranulf. Who talks of fighting ? What, my lord of Stene And Silvio displaying skill at fence ? Put up your blades. Nay, weep not, Mirabelle ; This is an idle brawl Geof. But, my good lord Ranulf. I have no wish to hear who is at fault. Be friends, as you were wont ; it is my will ! Geof. But he hath ta'en Mira. Dear love, the fault was mine. Ranulf. This is no time for words. Put't up, I say ! The sun hath topped the hills, and we should be Searching, through wood and vale, for Ellaline. Silvio. Coranto saw her but a moment since Speeding towards the lake Kat. Towards the lake ! Cesta. Oh, if aught should befall ! Geof. (putting up his sword). Then let us haste And bring her safely back ! Silvio. My life for her§ Would I most freely give ! €&e 9m&er ^eatt. 67 Ranulf. The horses wait. Mira. Listen ! What noise is that ? (They listen.) Tis Ellaline. Kat. I hear Coranto's voice. Cesta. She hath returned. Silvio {aside). I almost fear to look upon her face. Geof. Yes, 'tis her gentle voice Ranulf. The gods be praised ! {Enter Ellaline and Coranto. Sunlight bursts in.) Ella, (to Coranto as she enters). I will not part with it again, Coranto. Cor. Then will you never know the pangs of love Or grief, and all the past will 'pear a dream. Ella. It was a dream, but now I. have awaked. Mira. Dear Ellaline, forgive me for the woe I brought upon your life. Ella. Kiss me, dear coz. (Kisses her.) Look up and smile — and uncle — Silvio, Be merry all. The time, in sooth, is past For pain and sadness — Do not speak, I pray — Coranto hath made known the cause of grief. I have been ill and feverish with dreams. Silvio. With dreams. Cor. (aside). Love was no more to her. Ella. Now, mark, And I'll recount what troubled phantasies Passed through my aching brain. Ranulf. Prithee go on. (Aside) Her grief hath surely gone. Ella. Methought — 'twas strange — 68 Cfce amber l^eart Methought that I had Silvio grown to love, And he to me did give his plighted troth. What foolish thoughts come to us all in dreams, For then, it seemed to me, he grew less fond, And turned to Mirabelle, who dearly loved Him in return. , Mira. (to Geoffry). I never loved but thee ! Coranto (aside). Nay, do not heed. Ella. I said it was a dream. Gamber. Aye, in good truth you did. Kat. A feverish dream. Ella. But now, fond coz., to prove that all was false, Take Geoffry by the hand. Cor. (aside). Do as she bids. Geof. With all my heart, I take her by the hand. (Does so.) Ella. And, Silvio, to add unto our mirth (For we must merry be), take thou thy lute And play some fancy, gentle as the wind, When it, breathes kisses on the buds of' Spring. Silvio (aside). There is some charm-* — Cor. (aside). The charm is Innocence, Her happiness, Content. Ella. Come Silvio, come, We wait for thy sweet strains. Coranto, thou Shalt sit by me, the rest somewhat away, For I have much to say to thee alone. (They sit.) Now, Silvio, begin, and let your song Be soft and low, for yet 'tis early morn, &&e amfier fyttot. 69 And it may hap that all the sleeping flow'rs And nestling birds will, from your melody, Take joyous dreams ; and, if mine eyelids droop And I should sleep, do not take lightest heed ; Dreams bring dear happiness as well as pain ; And grief my heart will never know again. (Kisses the amulet.) (Silvio plays prelude to song, as in Act I., as Curtain slowly falls.) Printed by VEALE, CHIFFERIEL & CO. 31 to 37 Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane, London, E.C.