Scene I.--As before.

The Prince, Marinelli.

MARINELLI.

From this window your Highness may observe him. He is walking to and fro under the arcade. Now he turns this way. He comes; no, he turns again. He has not yet altogether made up his mind; but is much calmer, or at least appears so. To us this is unimportant. He will scarcely dare utter the suspicions which these women have expressed! Battista says that he desired his wife to send the carriage hither as soon as she should reach the town, for he came hither on horseback. Mark my words. When he appears before your Highness, he will humbly return thanks for the gracious protection which you were pleased to afford to his family, will recommend himself and his daughter to your further favour, quietly take her to town, and with perfect submission await the further interest which your Highness may think proper to take in the welfare of his child.

PRINCE.

But should he not be so resigned--and I scarcely think he will, I know him too well to expect it--he may, perhaps, conceal his suspicions, and suppress his indignation; but instead of conducting Emilia to town, he may take her away and keep her with himself, or place her in some cloister beyond my dominions. What then?

MARINELLI.

Love's fears are farsighted. But he will not.

PRINCE.

But, if he were to do it, what would the death of the unfortunate Count avail us?

MARINELLI.

Why this gloomy supposition? "Forward!" shouts the victor, and asks not who falls near him--friend or foe. Yet if the old churl should act as you fear, prince--(After some consideration) I have it. His wish shall prove the end of his success. I'll mar his plan. But we must not lose sight of him. (Walks again to the window.) He had almost surprised us. He comes. Let us withdraw awhile, and in the meanwhile, Prince, you shall hear how we can elude the evil you apprehend.

PRINCE (in a threatening tone).

But, Marinelli----

MARINELLI.

The most innocent thing in the world. (Exeunt.)

Scene II.

ODOARDO.

Still no one here? 'Tis well. They allow me time to get still cooler. A lucky chance. Nothing is more unseemly than a hoary-headed man transported with the rage of youth. So I have often thought, yet I have suffered myself to be aroused----by whom? By a woman whom jealousy had driven to distraction. What has injured virtue to do with the revenge of vice? I have but to save the former. And thy cause, my son--my son----I could never weep, and will not learn the lesson now. There is another, who will avenge thy cause. Sufficient for me that thy murderer shall not enjoy the fruit of his crime. May this torment him more than even the crime itself; and when at length loathsome satiety shall drive him from one excess to another, may the recollection of having failed in this poison the enjoyment of all! In every dream may the bride appear to him, led to his bedside by the murdered bridegroom; and when, in spite of this, he stretches forth his sinful arms to seize the prize, may he suddenly hear the derisive laughter of hell echo in his ears, and so awake.

Scene III.

Marinelli, Odoardo.

MARINELLI.

We have been looking for you, Sir.

ODOARDO.

Has my daughter been here?

MARINELLI.

No; the Prince.

ODOARDO.

I beg his pardon. I have been conducting the Countess to her carriage.

MARINELLI.

Indeed.

ODOARDO.

A good lady!

MARINELLI.

And where is your lady?

ODOARDO.

She accompanied the Countess that she might send my carriage hither. I would request the Prince to let me stay with my daughter till it arrives.

MARINELLI.

Why this ceremony? The Prince would have felt pleasure in conducting your daughter and her mother to town.

ODOARDO.

My daughter at least would have been obliged to decline that honour.

MARINELLI.

Why so?

ODOARDO.

She will not go to Guastalla again.

MARINELLI.

Indeed! Why not?

ODOARDO.

Count Appiani is dead.

MARINELLI.

For that very reason----

ODOARDO.

She must go with me.

MARINELLI.

With you?

ODOARDO.

With me.--I tell you the Count is dead--though she may not know it. What therefore has she to do in Guastalla? She must go with me.

MARINELLI.

The future residence of the lady must certainly depend upon her father--but at present----

ODOARDO.

Well? What?

MARINELLI.

At present, sir, you will, I hope, allow her to be conveyed to Guastalla.

ODOARDO.

My daughter, conveyed to Guastalla? Why so?

MARINELLI.

Why! Consider----

ODOARDO (incensed).

Consider! consider! consider that there is nothing to consider. She must and shall go with me.

MARINELLI.

We need have no contention on the subject, sir. I may be mistaken. What I think necessary may not be so. The Prince is the best judge--he, therefore, will decide. I go to bring him to you.

Scene IV.

Odoardo.

ODOARDO.

How? Never! Prescribe to me whether she shall go! Withhold her from me! Who will do this?--Who dares attempt it?--He, who dares here do anything he pleases?----'Tis well, 'tis well. Then shall he see how much I, too, dare, and whether I have not already dared. Short-sighted voluptuary! I defy thee.--He who regards no law is as independent as he who is subject to no law. Knowest thou not this? Come on, come on----But what am I saying? My temper once more overpowers my reason. What do I want? I should first know why I rave. What will not a courtier assert? Better had I allowed him to proceed. I should have heard his pretext for conveying my daughter to Guastalla, and I could have prepared a proper reply. But can I need a reply!--Should one fail me--should----I hear footsteps. I will be calm.

Scene V.

The Prince, Marinelli, Odoardo.

PRINCE.

My dear worthy Galotti.--Was such an accident necessary to bring you to your Prince? Nothing less would have sufficed--but I do not mean to reproach you.

ODOARDO.

Your Highness, I have ever thought it unbecoming to press into the presence of my Prince. He will send for those whom he wants. Even now I ask your pardon----

PRINCE.

Would that many, whom I know, possessed this modest pride!--But to the subject. You are, doubtless, anxious to see your daughter. She is again alarmed on account of her dear mother's sudden departure. And why should she have departed? I only waited till the terrors of the lovely Emilia were completely removed, and then I should have conveyed both the ladies in triumph to town. Your arrival has diminished by half the pleasure of this triumph; but I will not entirely resign it.

ODOARDO.

Your Highness honours me too much. Allow me to spare my unfortunate child the various mortifications, which friendship and enmity, compassion and malicious pleasure, prepare for her in town.

PRINCE.

Of the sweet comforts, which the friendly and compassionate bestow, it would be cruelty to deprive her; but against all the mortifications of enmity and malice, believe me, I will guard her, dear Galotti.

ODOARDO.

Prince, paternal love is jealous of its duties. I think I know what alone suits my daughter in her present situation. Retirement from the world--a cloister as soon as possible.

PRINCE.

A cloister?

ODOARDO.

Till then, let her weep under the protection of her father.

PRINCE.

Shall so much beauty wither in a cloister?----Should one disappointed hope embitter one against the world?--But as you please. No one has a right to dictate to a parent. Take your daughter wherever you think proper, Galotti.

ODOARDO (to Marinelli).

Do you hear, my lord?

MARINELLI.

Nay, if you call upon me to speak----

ODOARDO.

By no means, by no means.

PRINCE.

What has happened between you two?

ODOARDO.

Nothing, your Highness, nothing. We were only settling which of us had been deceived in your Highness.

PRINCE.

How so?--Speak, Marinelli.

MARINELLI.

I am sorry to interfere with the condescension of my Prince, but friendship commands that I should make an appeal to him as judge.

PRINCE.

What friendship?

MARINELLI.

Your Highness knows how sincerely I was attached to Count Appiani--how our souls were interwoven----

ODOARDO.

Does his Highness know that? Then you are indeed the only one who does know it.

MARINELLI.

Appointed his avenger by himself----

ODOARDO.

You?

MARINELLI.

Ask your wife. The name of Marinelli was the last word of the dying Count, and was uttered in such a tone----Oh may that dreadful tone sound in my ears for ever, if I do not strain every nerve to discover and to punish his murderers!

PRINCE.

Rely upon my utmost aid.

ODOARDO.

And upon my most fervent wishes. All this is well. But what further?

PRINCE.

That I, too, want to know, Marinelli.

MARINELLI.

It is suspected that the Count was not attacked by robbers----

ODOARDO (with a sneer).

Indeed!

MARINELLI.

But that a rival hired assassins to despatch him.

ODOARDO (bitterly).

Indeed! A rival?

MARINELLI.

Exactly.

ODOARDO.

Well then--May damnation overtake the vile assassin!

MARINELLI.

A rival--a favoured rival too.

ODOARDO.

How? Favoured? What say you?

MARINELLI.

Nothing but what fame reports.

ODOARDO.

Favoured? favoured by my daughter?

MARINELLI.

Certainly not. That cannot be. Were you to say it I would contradict it. But, on this account, your Highness, though no prejudice, however well-grounded, can be of any weight in the scale of justice, it will, nevertheless, be absolutely necessary that the unfortunate lady should be examined.

True--undoubtedly.

MARINELLI.

And where can this be done but in Guastalla?

PRINCE.

There you are right, Marinelli, there you are right.--This alters the affair, dear Galotti. Is it not so. You yourself must see----

ODOARDO.

Yes! I see----what I see. O God! O God!

PRINCE.

What now? What is the matter?

ODOARDO.

I am only angry with myself for not having foreseen what I now perceive. Well, then--she shall return to Guastalla. I will take her to her mother, and till she has been acquitted, after the most rigid examination, I myself will not leave Guastalla. For who knows--(with a bitter smile of irony)--who knows whether the court of justice may not think it necessary to examine me?

MARINELLI.

It is very possible. In such cases justice rather does too much than too little. I therefore even fear----

PRINCE.

What? What do you fear?

MARINELLI.

That the mother and daughter will not, at present, be suffered to confer together.

ODOARDO.

Not confer together?

MARINELLI.

It will be necessary to keep mother and daughter apart.

ODOARDO.

To keep mother and daughter apart?

MARINELLI.

The mother, the daughter, and the father. The forms of the court absolutely enjoin this caution; and I assure your Highness that it pains me that I must enforce the necessity of at least placing Emilia in strict security.

ODOARDO.

In strict security!--Oh, Prince, Prince!--Butyes--right!--of course, of course! In strict security! Is it not so, Prince? Oh! justice! oh justice is a fine thing! Excellent! (Hastily puts his hand into the pocket in which he had concealed the dagger.)

PRINCE (in a soothing tone).

Compose yourself, dear Galotti.

ODOARDO (aside, drawing his hand, without the dagger, from his pocket).

There spoke his guardian angel.

PRINCE.

You are mistaken. You do not understand him. You think, perhaps, by security is meant a prison and a dungeon.

ODOARDO.

Let me think so, and I shall be at ease.

PRINCE.

Not a word of imprisonment, Marinelli. The rigour of the law may easily be combined with the respect due to unblemished virtue. If Emilia must be placed in proper custody, I know the most proper situation for her--my chancellor's house. No opposition, Marinelli. Thither I will myself convey her, and place her under the protection of one of the worthiest of ladies, who shall be answerable for her safety. You go too far, Marinelli, you go too far, if you require more. Of course, Galotti, you know my chancellor Grimaldi and his wife?

ODOARDO.

Undoubtedly I do. I also know the amiable daughters of this noble pair. Who does not know them? (To Marinelli).--No, my lord--do not agree to this. If my daughter must be confined, she ought to be confined in the deepest dungeon. Insist upon it, I beseech you. Fool that I was to make any request. Yes, the good Sybil was right. "They, who under certain circumstances, do not lose their intellect, have none to lose."

PRINCE.

I do not understand you. Dear Galotti, what can I do more? Be satisfied, I beseech you. She shall be conveyed to the chancellor's house. I myself will convey her thither; and if she be not there treated with the utmost respect, my word is of no value. But fear nothing; it is settled. You, Galotti, may do as you think proper. You may follow us to Guastalla, or return to Sabionetta, as you please. It would be ridiculous to dictate any conduct to you. And now, farewell for the present, dear Galotti.--Come, Marinelli. It grows late.

ODOARDO (who has been standing in deep meditation).

--How! May I not even see my daughter, then? May I not even see her here? I submit to everything--I approve of everything. A chancellor's house is, of course, a sanctuary of virtue. Take my daughter thither, I beseech your Highness--nowhere but thither. Yet I would willingly have some previous conversation with her. She is still ignorant of the Count's death, and will be unable to understand why she is separated from her parents. That I may apprise her gently of the one, and console her for this parting----I must see her, Prince, I must see her.

PRINCE.

Come, then, with us.

ODOARDO.

Surely the daughter can come to her father. Let us have a short conversation here, without witnesses. Send her hither, I beg your Highness.

PRINCE.

That, too, shall be done. Oh, Galotti, if you would be my friend, my guide, my father!

(Exeunt Prince and Marinelli).

Scene VI.

Odoardo.

ODOARDO (after a pause, during which his eyes follow the Prince).

Why not? Most willingly. Ha! ha! ha! (Looks wildly around.) Who laughed? By Heaven I believe it was myself. 'Tis well. I will be merry. The game is near an end. Thus must it be, or thus. But--(pauses)--how if she were in league with him? How if this were the usual deception? How if she were not worthy of what I am about to do for her? (Pauses again.) And what am I about to do for her? Have I a heart to name it even to myself? A thought comes to me--a thought which can be but a thought. Horrible!--I will go. I will not wait until she comes. (Raises his eyes towards Heaven.) If she be innocent, let Him who plunged her into this abyss, extricate her from it. He needs not my hand. I will away. (As he is going he espies Emilia.) Ha! 'Tis too late. My hand is required--He requires it.

Scene VII.

Emilia, Odoardo.

Enter Emilia.

EMILIA.

How! Ton here, my father? And you alone--without the Count--without my mother? So uneasy, too, my father?

ODOARDO.

And you so much at ease, my daughter?

EMILIA.

Why should I not be so, my father? Either all is lost, or nothing. To be able to be at ease, and to be obliged to be at ease, do they not come to the same thing!

ODOARDO.

But what do you suppose to be the case?

EMILIA.

That all is lost--therefore that we must be at ease, my father.

ODOARDO.

And you are at ease, because necessity requires it? Who are you? A girl; my daughter? Then should the man and the father be ashamed of you. But let me hear. What mean you when you say that all is lost?--that Count Appiani is dead?

EMILIA.

And why is he dead? Why? Ha! It is, then, true, my father--the horrible tale is true which I read in my mother's tearful and wild looks. Where is my mother? Where has she gone?

ODOARDO.

She is gone before us--if we could but follow her.

EMILIA.

Oh, the sooner the better. For if the Count be dead--if he was doomed to die on that account--Ha! Why do we stay here? Let us fly, my father.

ODOARDO.

Fly! Where is the necessity? You are in the hands of your ravisher, and will there remain.

EMILIA.

I remain in his hands?

ODOARDO.

And alone--without your mother--without me.

EMILIA.

I remain alone in his hands? Never, my father--or you are not my father. I remain alone in his hands? 'Tis well. Leave me, leave me. I will see who can detain me--who can compel me. What human being can compel another?

ODOARDO.

I thought, my child, you were tranquil.

EMILIA.

I am so. But what do you call tranquillity?--To lay my hands in my lap, and patiently bear what cannot be borne, and suffer what should be suffered.

ODOARDO.

Ha! If such be thy thoughts, come to my arms, my daughter. I have ever said, that Nature, when forming woman, wished to form her master-piece. She erred in that the clay she chose was too plastic. In every other respect man is inferior to woman. Ha! If this be thy composure, I recognize my daughter again. Come to my arms. Now, mark me. Under the pretence of legal examination, the Prince--tears thee (the hellish fool's play!) tears thee from our arms, and places thee under the protection of Grimaldi.

EMILIA.

Tears me from your arms? Takes me--would tear me--take me--would--would----As if we ourselves had no will, father.

ODOARDO.

So incensed was I, that I was on the point of drawing forth this dagger (produces it), and plunging it into the hearts of both the villains.

EMILIA.

Heaven forbid it! my father. This life is all the wicked can enjoy. Give me, give me the dagger.

ODOARDO.

Child, it is no bodkin.

EMILIA.

If it were, it would serve as a dagger. 'Twere the same.

ODOARDO.

What! Is it come to that? Not yet, not yet. Reflect. You have but one life to lose, Emilia.

EMILIA.

And but one innocence.

ODOARDO.

Which is proof against all force.

EMILIA.

But not against all seduction. Force! Force! What is that? Who may not defy force? What you call force is nothing. Seduction is the only real force. I have blood, my father, as youthful and as warm as that of others. I have senses too. I cannot pledge myself: I guarantee nothing. I know the house of Grimaldi. It is a house of revelry--a single hour spent in that society, under the protection of my mother, created such a tumult in my soul, that all the rigid exercises of religion could scarcely quell it in whole weeks. Religion! And what religion? To avoid no worse snares thousands have leapt into the waves, and now are saints. Give me the dagger, then, my father, give it to me.

ODOARDO.

And didst thou but know who armed me with this dagger----

EMILIA.

That matters not. An unknown friend is not the less a friend. Give me the dagger, father, I beseech you.

ODOARDO.

And if I were to give it you?--what then? There! (He presents it)

EMILIA.

And there! (She seizes it with ardour, and is about to stab herself when Odoardo wrests it from her.)

ODOARDO.

See how rash----No; it is not for thy hand.

EMILIA.

Tis true; then with this bodkin will I! (she searches for one in her hair, and feels the rose in her head). Art thou still there? Down, down! thou shouldst not deck the head of one, such as my father wishes me to be!

ODOARDO.

Oh! my daughter!

EMILIA.

Oh, my father! if I understand you. But no, you will not do it, or why so long delayed. (In a bitter tone, while she plucks the leaves of the rose.) In former days there was a father, who, to save his daughter from disgrace plunged the first deadly weapon which he saw, into his daughter's heart--and thereby gave her life, a second time. But those were deeds of ancient times. Such fathers exist not now.

ODOARDO.

They do, they do, my daughter (stabs her). God of heaven! What have I done? (supports her in his arms as she sinks.)

EMILIA.

Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom. Oh, let me kiss this kind parental hand.

Scene VIII.

The Prince, Marinelli, Odoardo, Emilia.

PRINCE (entering).

What means this? Is Emilia not well?

ODOARDO.

Very well, very well.

PRINCE (approaching her.)

What do I see? Oh, horror!

MARINELLI.

I am lost!

PRINCE.

Cruel father, what hast thou done.

ODOARDO.

Broken a rose before the storm had robbed it of its bloom. Said you not so, my daughter?

EMILIA.

Not you, my father. I, I myself----

ODOARDO.

Not thou my daughter--not thou! Quit not this world with falsehood on thy lips. Not thou, my daughter--thy father, thy unfortunate father.

EMILIA.

Ah!--My father----(Dies in his arms. He lays her gently on the floor.)

ODOARDO.

Ascend on high! There, Prince! Does she still charm you? Does she still rouse your appetites?--here, weltering in her blood--which cries for vengeance against you. (After a pause.) Doubtless you wait to see the end of this. You expect, perhaps, that I shall turn the steel against myself, and finish the deed like some wretched tragedy. You are mistaken. There! (Throws the dagger at his feet.) There lies the blood-stained witness of my crime. I go to deliver myself into the hands of justice. I go to meet you as my judge: then I shall meet you in another world, before the Judge of all. (Exit.)

PRINCE (after a pause, during which he surveys the body with a look of horror and despair, turns to Marinelli).

Here! Raise her. How! Dost thou hesitate? Wretch! Villain! (Tears the dagger from his grasp.) No. Thy blood shall not be mixed with such as this. Go: hide thyself for ever. Begone, I say. Oh God! Oh God! Is it not enough for the misery of many that monarchs are men? Must devils in disguise become their friends?

NATHAN THE WISE.