[]

THE CAPTIVE OF SPILBURG, IN TWO ACTS.

[Price One Shilling and Sixpence.]

[]

THE CAPTIVE OF SPILBURG IN TWO ACTS, AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE, ALTERED FROM THE FAVOURITE FRENCH DRAMA CALLED LE SOUTERRAIN, WITH A PREFACE BY THE TRANSLATOR. The MUSIC by DUSSEK.

INCONCUSSA FIDES.

LONDON: PRINTED FOR MACHELL STACE, PRINCES STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE, AND J. HATCHARD, PICCADILLY. 1799.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

[]
MEN.
  • Korowitz, a Bohemian Nobleman Mr. Barrymore.
  • Canzemar, his Nephew Mr. Kelly.
  • Kourakin, in the ſervice of Korowitz Mr. Banniſter, Jun.
  • Mouſic-Mirhoff, Servant to Canzemar Mr. Suett.
  • Liebſtoff, Servant to Korowitz Mr. Caulfield.
  • Iwan, Son to Korowitz Miſs Benſon.
  • Officers of the Emperor's Guards Mr. Maddocks.
  • Officers of the Emperor's Guards Mr. Trueman.
  • Tachſtein Soldier
  • Kargad Soldier
WOMEN.
  • Eugenia, Wife to Korowitz Mrs. Crouch.
  • Moola, a Peaſant of Spilburg Mrs. Bland.
  • Firſt Bohemian Dancer, Signora Boſſi del Caro.
  • Soldiers, Peaſants, Servants, &c. &c.

SCENE. The Caſtle of Spilburg in Bohemia.

[]

TO THE LORD VISCOUNT NEWARK, BARON PIERREPONT, OF HOLME PIERREPONT, IN THE COUNTY OF NOTTINGHAM: L. L. D. This ſmall Tribute of Respect and Friendship Is offered, and, With His Lordſhip's Permiſſion, Inscribed, By the Translater.

PREFACE.

[]

THOSE who are converſant in the French Drama, will readily perceive that the Captive of Spilburg is little elſe than a tranſlation of Le Souterrain. In adapting it to the Engliſh ſtage, endeavours have been uſed to ſelect the moſt ſtriking and intereſting features of the Original. The principal Alteration conſiſts in the Airs, which, when new Muſic is to be compoſed, it is ſeldom of any advantage to tranſlate.

Much cenſure has of late been caſt on the negligence of thoſe who write words for Muſical Compoſitions. —That ſome remiſsneſs ſhould creep in upon a laborious taſk, where the utmoſt diligence [viii]can attain little praiſe, will be no ſubject of ſurprize to any one accouſtomed to habits of application: but that indulgence may fairly be extended to writers of this deſcription may be inferred from the apology made by the great Dryden for himſelf on this ſubject. In ſpeaking of the difficulties of our language, in muſical compoſition, he ſays ‘it conſiſts too much of monoſyllables, and thoſe too moſt commonly clogg'd with conſonants, for which reaſon, (he adds) I am often forced to coin new words, revive ſome that are antiquated, and botch others, as if I had not ſerved out my time in Poetry, but was bound 'Prentice to ſome Doggrel Rhimer, who makes ſongs to tunes and ſings them for a livelihood. 'Tis true I have not been often put to this drudgery; but, where I have, the words ſufficiently ſhew, that I was then a ſlave to the compoſition, which I will never be again.’ In fact the diligent writer of words to be adapted to Muſic goes to work with fewer materials than any other, with a vocabulary disfurniſhed of at leaſt one third of his language. [ix]All cloſe ſounds, all words ending in mutes, all in which many conſonants are perceptible to the ear; are unfavourable to, and ſome times incompatible with his purpoſe. What embarraſsment this reſtriction produces, and how greatly it impedes the efforts of a writer, Experiment will beſt aſcertain.

Unfortunately for this ſpecies of writing, it is likewiſe liable to cenſure from the errors of others as well as of the writer. The Muſic of every ſucceſsful Dramatic Production is immediately publiſhed, and words are annexed to it, which, from the frequent inaccuracy (in that point) of the Copper Plate Engraver, are very falſely ſaid to be written by the Author of the Piece. But this the judicious obſerver will eaſily diſcriminate.

The Tranſlator of the preſent Drama is as fully aware as the moſt ſplenetic critic can be, that productions of this kind are of no great importance to the retired reader. They are however the food of the Stage; and a really comprehenſive and candid [x]mind will not eſtimate their merits merely by the ſcale of Literature, but will recollect that the Theatre demands action, that the beſt written plays may be the moſt unfit for repreſentation, and that without this conſideration the moſt accurate judge of books will be a very inadequate cenſor of dramatic writings.

THE CAPTIVE OF SPILBURG.

[]

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Landſkip of mountains covered with ſnow; in the front tall firs or pines, and on the ſide the extremity of an ancient caſtle, from the door of which ſteps deſcend to the ſtage; the ſky cloudy and the ſcene dark.
Enter CANZEMAR and MOUSIC.
DUET.
HUSH'D in a ſtilly ſilence round,
All nature breathleſs ſeems to lie;
Save where, athwart the gloom profound,
The flick'ring vapours ſcare the eye.
Can.
[2]
Coragio! Mouſic!—follow!—hark!
I voices hear.
Mou.

Owls in the dark.

Can.

Huſh! liſten! ſome one whiſpers near.

Mou.

A bat; I felt him bruſh my ear.

Can.

Onward, onward—prithee, faſter—

Mou.

Draw your rapier, noble maſter!

Can.

What! when nothing's here to fight?

Mou.
That nothing gives me moſt affright
When 'tis night.
Can.

Whither will this foreſt lead?

Mou.

Maſter, take heed!

Can.

All is ruin'd here, and bare.

Mou.

Maſter beware!

Can.

Something touches at my head—

Mou.

Oh, lud! we're dead.

Canz.
Shades of night, ſo fond to cover
Projects of the vent'rous lover—
Gently courted, now to me,
Shades of night, propitious be!
Mou.
If fairies or goblins ſhould catch us!
Or devils come hither to fetch us!
Mou.
Good maſter, beware! in the deed of the night,
Each nothing I meet puts me all in a fright.
Can.

What's yonder?

Mou.

Oh, comfort! a man with a light.

Both.
Hope; like to yonder ſparkling light,
That cheers the lonely dwelling,
Wakes in my heart her viſions bright,
All anxious fears diſpelling.
[3] CANZEMAR and MOUSIC go up the ſteps into the houſe; the clouds clear away and diſcover the moon at full and reflected in the water.
Enter TACHSTEIN and KARGAD.
K.

How ſay'ſt thou, Tachſtein, is not the night piercing cold?

T.

Aye, marry is it—Where is our Captain?

K.

Studying his occupations yonder.

T.

What, in the alehouſe?

K.

Alehouſe or inn—the village affords no better. Drinking is every where the nobleſt employment of a ſoldier; for what makes a brave ſoldier? contempt of danger. And what inſpires contempt of danger? Why, drinking.

T.

I do not much value the bravery of a man in his cups.

K.

Hold thy peace, Tachſtein, thou art ignorant; thou abuſeſt ſpeech, when thou ſay'ſt a man is in his cups, forſooth, as tho' the wine ſwallowed the man, and not the man the wine. Never ſay a man is in liquor; 'tis a fooliſh phraſe; he is not in the liquor, but the liquor in him. Were ſome men in the liquor they drink, God help us!—they might be drown'd.

T.

If the man be not drown'd in liquor, his underſtanding is.

K.

Nay, how can wine drown the underſtanding, [4]when, it is notorious that wine makes the brain ſwim? I ſay thou art ignorant. But come along, for we may have perilous ſervice to perform to night.

Exit. TACH. and KARG.

SCENE II.

Inſide of the Caſtle; a great Hall.
Enter CANZEMAR, MOUSIC, and KOURAKIN (with a taper in his hand.)
Kou. (With kindneſs)

Loſt your way, you ſay, in returning to Prague, and your horſes unable to proceed! Hem! the ſnow falls apace, and the night is far advanced:

(lifts up the taper and ſurveys them attentively).

You look like an honeſt man

(to Canzemar),

and you

(to Mouſic)

hem?—

(doubting.
Can.

I anſwer for him.

Kou.

Aye? why, then I believe, in ſpite of the ſavage cuſtoms of the houſe, I muſt give you ſhelter.

Mou.
(frightened)

what did you ſay, Sir? the ſavage—

Can.

We have traverſed much ground in this caſtle, it muſt be of immenſe ſize.

Kou.

It was, but one half of it is tumbled down.

Mou.

Aye, but the half that remains—

Kou.
[5]

Promiſes every hour to follow the other half.

Mou.

Pray Sir, what may this place be?

Kou.

It was formerly an old convent, but long ſince deſerted. There is nothing here now but long galleries, huge halls, dreadful ſubterraneous vaults, and—

Mou.

Oh lord! what?

Kou.

You don't mind a ghoſt or two, do you?

Mou.

Ghoſts?

Kou.

Aye, we have them here by dozens; I believe I ſaw one or two here the other night my ſelf.

Mou.
(his teeth chattering with fear)

pray how long have you lived here?

Kou.

To reckon by the almanack, one year— to reckon by my feelings—ten.

Mou.

You are probably the—

Kou.

Gardener I was hired to be, but there being no longer any garden, I was placed within doors to direct the ceremonies of the houſe; but when no ceremony was obſerved here, I was made Steward to take care of the houſehold furniture; but there being little or no furniture, I was made Clerk to inſpect the accoutns; but as there were no accounts to be kept, they made me Bailiff to collect the rents; but as there were no rents to collect—

Mou.

What did you do then?

Kou.
[6]

Then I came down to be Door-porter; but as no one ever comes to the door—

Can.

What is your preſent employment?

Kou.

Making love. I find that makes the time paſs rather quicker.

Can. and Mou.

Love in this place?

Kou.

Juſt the place for it, and, to ſay the truth, it is my way in all places.

AIR.
Kourakin.
I've lov'd ſo many a maiden fair,
Of names that ſo much vary,
I ſcarcely know which caus'd my care,
Or Fanny, Beſs, or Mary;
But happy I! for not a thing
Can meet me ſo contrary,
That will not make me think and ſing
Of Fanny, Beſs, or Mary!
With a heigho! heigho!
I always was, from boy to man,
Well pleas'd to toy with any—
Now if a lady flap her fan,
Why—ſtraight I think on Fanny.
Dear Fanny I remember yet,
No laſs ſo ſmart and pretty—
But if you offer me a bet,
Why—then I think on Betty.
With a heigho! heigho!
[7]
Then Betty ſhe is all my theme,
So round, ſo plump, and jolly;
But if I hear a Parrot ſcream—
It makes me think on Polly.
Thus happy I! while ſcarce a thing
Can meet me ſo contrary,
That will not make me think and ſing
Of Fanny, Beſs, or Mary.
With a heigho! heigho!
Mou.

You ſeem to have a merry heart. Pray will you introduce my maſter to the lord of this caſtle?

Kou.

Impoſſible.

Mou.

Juſt to ſpeak with him.—

Kou.

He never ſpeaks to any body; he has ſpoken to me only once ſince he came here, and that is a week ago.

Can.

Who is he, pray?

Kou.

I never heard.

Mou.

Where does he come from?

Kou.

He never diſcloſed.

Can.

What's his condition?

Kou.

That's a ſecret—

Mou.

What name does he go by?

Kou.

"Your Honour," to his face, and behind his back "the Bear"

Mou.
(pulling CAN. by the ſleeve)

Sir—Sir—

Mou.

What does he do in this lonely place?

Kou.

Frets, and ſighs, ſtalks to and fro, and [8]talks to himſelf. I ſhould be diſcharged if he did but hear that I had let a ſtranger in at the caſtle gate.

Can.

If it had been poſſible to find ſhelter any where elſe, you ſhould not have run that riſk.

Kou.

Did not you ſee the little inn in the foreſt?

Can.

An inn!

Mou.

That wretched hovel, Sir, where we attempted to procure a lodging among thoſe armed men; but

(to KOU.)

it was crammed full of ſuch ill looking—

Kou.

Oh you muſt not truſt to looks here-abouts, the beſt looking here are the worſt at heart.

Mou.

Indeed! to my mind you are the beſt looking man we have ſeen to night: If you ſhould turn out—

Kou.

Huſh! huſh!

Enter LIEBSTOFF.
(Coarſely accoutred, with a rough and fierce aſpect)
Kou.

Ha! Liebſtoff? well! is my maſter come in?

Lie.
(very gruffly)

yes.

Kou.

And where is he?

Lie.

Gone to the grated chamber.

Kou.

Did he ſpeak, when he came in?

Lie.

Yes—

Kou.
[9]

Ah! what did he ſay?

Lie.

Get out. What are you doing here? Begone!

Kou.

Did he ſay all that to you? He muſt be in a remarkable ſweet temper to be ſo converſable. Alone, I ſuppoſe, as uſual?

Lie.

No he brought a child in with him.

Kou.

A child!

Mou.

He is going to eat him, I ſuppoſe

(with fear)
Lie.
(angrily to Mousic)

Pſha! a ſtout man in a black maſk led him hither,

(MOUSIC frightened)

and I heard him ſay to my maſter—Yes, my lord, he is on the road to Prague, —on which my lord—

Mou.

Knock'd him down, I conclude.

Lie.

Peace! my lord ſmiled.

Kou.

Smiled? ſomething ſtrange is going to happen.

Lie.

You wait here for him, do you?

Kou.

I'm ready whenever the great gong ſtrikes, as uſual.

Lie.
(taking Kou. aſide)

Who are theſe men?

Kou.

They are two of my couſins, come to my wedding.

Lie.

Well thought of; the wedding is to be to morrow, is not it? You are welcome, gentlemen: i'll juſt carry my maſter his poniard and piſtols [10]and then for a dance! Kourakin, we'll be mortal merry.

(Exit LIEBSTOFF
Mou.

Pray who is that mortal merry gentleman?

Kou.

That is the upper footman.

Mou.

A pretty figure for his place! and pray is that the livery of the caſtle?

Kou.

Why, as beauty's no recommendation here, and your rueful viſages are moſt in requeſt, their clothes are made to ſet them off to advantage, as you ſee.

Mou.

Yes, I perceive it.

Kou.

If my maſter ſhould chance to ſpy you, don't forget that you are my couſins, and to morrow at break of day,—Huſh! I thought I heard— No it is only my little bride Moolina coming this way. You'll ſee what a nice, pretty, little—

Enter MOOLA.

Moola, I have ſomething particular to ſay to you. You muſt know that—

(the gong ſtrikes, and KOURAKIN runs off)
Mou.

So; he is the running Footman, I ſuppoſe. What is the meaning of that noiſe?—

Mool.

Tis the gong. I'll tell you what it means.

[11] TRIO. Canzemar, Mouſic and Moola.
Moo.
Of the gong, of the gong ſirs, I'll tell you the meaning,
Its meaning by day, and its meaning by night,
But if it call me, ſirs, while I am explaining,
Away, in an inſtant, I go like a ſprite.
In the morn, when my maſter firſt ſtrikes on the gong,
One—bome—its for ſilence, we all think that wrong.
Mou.

What! ſilence the women?

Moo.
We all think it wrong.
When his dinner is ſerv'd, a loud thundering blow
Sends every one out of his ſight in a minute,
And at night, when to bed he commands us to go,
Dingy dongy, ding dongy—
Mou.
(yawns)

There is conjuring in it.

Moo.
From the gong thus we learn all our maſter's beheſts,
To wake, or to ſleep—
Mou.
(aſide)

Or to murder the gueſts!

(gong)
Moo.

Hark! hark! there's good tidings;

Mou.

Pray what may they be?

Moo.

His ſupper's now ready, and after ſup we.

Mou.
(aſide)

For the laſt time in this world!

Moo.

How pleaſant we'll be!

(gong)

Hark!—good b'ye.

Can. and Mou.

Whither now?

Moo.

I muſt go, no delaying—

Can. and Mou.

Nay, a moment—

Moo.

I dare not—

Mou.

Go on, you were ſaying—

(gong)
Moo. Can. and Mou.
[12]
  • No, no, you
  • Aye, aye, we
hear the wrong ſounds,
Moo.
I dare not freak or tarry;
'Tis fortunate no gong ſounds,
When we're inclined to marry.
MOOL. runs out.
(a ſhort ſilence)
Mou.

Pray, Sir, give me leave to aſk you a queſtion.

Can.

What is it, Mouſic?

Mou.

Don't you think this is a horrible ugly place?

Can.

Yes truely, ugly enough.

Mou.

A deviliſh cut-throat place?

Can.

Certainly it has the air of one.

Mou.

Upon my word you're very comforting, Sir; what do you propoſe to do till day break?

Can.

Read, to divert my thoughts. let me ſee that book.

(MOUSIC brings a book which lay on a table. CANZEMAR opens it.)
Reads "Thoughts on death."
Mou.

Oh lord! they mean to prepare us for it: yes, yes, we ſhall be puniſhed now for all your mad pranks, for your running away with that beautiful lady, whoſe liſe you ſaved from the robbers, [13] [...] thought you was carrying her [...] Do you forget that, Sir?

Can

Would I could forget it!

Mou.

B [...]des that, you have murder on your head.

Can.

Murder?

Mou.

Yes, did not you ſhoot one of the ruffians?

Can.

No, you killed him, Mouſic.

Mou.

Oh lord! lord! It muſt have been a very random ſhot, for you know as well as I, that I run away as faſt as my legs could carry me.

Can.

And is this all my crime?

Mou.

No no, there's worſe than that, did not the poor lady tell you ſhe was married (though in private and bound not to diſcloſe her huſband's name), and did not you nevertheleſs conſine her for ſeveral days in your houſe, till you found you could not prevail on her to be be your miſtreſs?

Can.

And then did not I carry her back to Prague, Sirrah?

Mou.

Where you ſet her adrift without knowing whither ſhe was going.

Can.

Thoſe were terms of her own making, to which I acceded on condition of her never revealing to any mortal what had paſs'd.

Mou.

Aye, I remember you made her take a terrible ſolemn oath about it. That was a [14]proof there was no good in what you had done, or you would not have been ſo afraid of owning it.

Can.

My vanity was mortified at her reſiſtance, and ſuggeſted to me that method of concealing a folly, which now cauſes the remorſe of my life.

Mou.

Oh! does it ſo? then this is the moment for repentance; for my part it has quite reformed me. I'll never ſpeak to a woman again as long as I live. Oh lord!—what did I ſee there? ſomething all in white.—

Can.

Why, 'tis Moolina coming back to us.

Mou.

Aye! I thought 'twas a ghoſt at leaſt, a nice, little, lively—eh! hiſt! Moolina! Moolina!

Can.

What! you won't ſpeak to a woman! you are reformed!

Mou.

To a ſtrange woman, I mean, Sir. I have ſeen Moolina, you know, before; beſides, in good reſolutions one ſhould not be too haſty.

Enter MOOLINA.
Moo.

Kourakin has ſent me to you, to beg that you will not grow impatient: he'll come back to you preſently.

Mou.

Don't let him trouble himſelf about that, pretty Moolina. If you will ſtay with us, we don't want Kourakin to come back at all. So [15]you're going to be married to him, are you, pretty Moolina?

Moo.

Oh dear! the wedding was to have been a week ago, but my maſter came home unexpectedly, and we were forced to ſtay till he gave conſent.

Mou.

Your maſter!—a nice little bride, is not ſhe, Sir? and what did your maſter ſay?

Moo.

Say! ha! ha! ha! he never ſays any thing; he only made a ſign.

Mou.

What; do you never get a word from him?

Moo.

Never; its always either

(nods)

or

(ſhakes her head)

or

(makes a ſign with her hand as ordering any one to go away)
Mou.

And ſo, which of all theſe ſigns did he make to you about your wedding?

Moo.
(nods)
Mou.

Oh that happy dog Kourakin! But are not you afraid, Moolina, to venture on a maſter for life?

Moo.

So I tell the men, but I have no deſign to be taken at my word—

AIR.
Moola.
When the ſhepherds aſk my hand, Sir,
Little heed I of their pain;
With a curtſey I make anſwer—
Thank'ye, Sir—but call again—
[16] For I have vow'd to wear the willow,
Willow, willow;
Thank'ye Sir, I'll wear the willow,
Willow, willow.
But when feigning's o'er, believe me,
Hand and heart I'll give my ſwain;
And, if falſe he ſhould deceive me,
Try my Fortune o'er again:
I have no heart to wear the willow,
Willow, willow;
Thank'ye Sir, I'll wear no willow
Willow, willow.
Enter KOURAKIN (haſtily)
Kou.

Get away, get away! my maſter has made ſigns that he's coming. What ſhall we do with our ſtrangers? we muſt hide them. Stand you before them, Moolina, oh! I wiſh you were a little taller; there! there! huſh! huſh! that way!

(they all paſs through a ſmall door that ſtands open and KOURAKIN remains on the watch)
Enter KOROWITZ, his hair in diſorder, with a diſturbed aſpect. Three ſervants, uncouthly dreſt, carry an arm chair, a writing deſk and a chandelier with ſeveral lights. During the whole of this action a ſymphony is play'd.
Kou.

What, the devil! is he coming to ſettle [17]here? if he ſees me, and orders me out, we are all diſcover'd.

Symphony continued. KOROWITZ makes ſigns to the Servants to quit the room. The muſick as much as poſſible repreſents his agitated ſtate of mind; he opens the deſk, begins to write a letter, tears it and riſes.

No, I cannot bear to look upon a name ſo fatal to my repoſe

(takes a miniature from his boſom, looks at it, preſſes it to his heart)

Eugenia! the conflict overpowers me!

Exit.
KOURAKIN, MOOLA, CANZEMAR and MOUSIC return on tiptoe.
Mou.

If that is the longeſt ſpeech he ever makes, I don't wonder you cannot tell us any more about him.

Can.

Well! and where is he going now?

Kou.

It is believ'd he goes into the apartment of a young woman confined in this caſtle, whom nobody ever ſaw, and who died in conſequence of ill treatment from a certain ſteward.

Mou.

And what is become of that ſteward?

Kou.

He alſo died about a week ago, and that is the reaſon my maſter came hither.

Mou.
(alarmed)

Does every body die then, that comes into the caſtle?

Kou.
[18]

Generally ſpeaking?

Can.

Have you never had the curioſity to follow him?

Kou.

No; he makes uſe of a trifling precaution to prevent me.

Mou.

What's that?

Kou.

A brace of loaded piſtols, which he carries about him to anſwer impertinent questions.

Moo.

Come, away! Where are you going to carry the gentlemen, Kourakin?

Kou.

There is no other hiding place than that little paſſage under the ſtair caſe, level with the court yard.

Mou.

Aye in the court yard, I ſuppoſe.

Kou.

Why, I confeſs 'tis not much out of it, but it will keep you in a dry ſkin, and I will come and fetch you as ſoon as our little dance begins

(gong ſounds)
Moo. and Kou.

Away! away!

Can.

He has not ſeen us, and—

Kou.

He is a madman, Sir, don't expoſe your life. If he ſees you, 'tis not your being my couſins can keep you here. There

(leads CANZEMAR and MOUSIC to a door on the other ſide of the ſcene)

go down thoſe ſteps—a little lower—that's right.

CANZEMAR and MOUSIC go in at the door. KOURAKIN and MOOLA run off.
[19] KOROWITZ returns. (The ſymphony is repeated.)

Will then my boſom ſtill pant, when I approach this place! underneath this ſpot breathes the wretched Eugenia—myſelf only conſcious of the ſecret. Guilty, yet moſt adored of women, how il! haſt thou repaid my affection! from thy lowly ſtation I lifted thee to my own, I loved thee with tenderneſs unequalled, unabating. Could'ſt thou be faithleſs to me!

(pauſe)

Yet do I pity thee, unhappy victim! ſhut from the light of heaven! dead to thy friends, to every joy of life! and yet living! Alas! thou little think'ſt thy wretched huſbands is now ſo near thee, or how gladly, even at the price of his own blood, he would purchaſe the belief of thy innocence! I ſhudder to open this ſecret entrance, by my contrivance concealed from every eye

(opens a ſpring door, and diſcovers behind it, a dark ſtaircaſe leading down to a dungeon)

Barbarian that I am! have I doomed her to this horrid dungeon! Yes; 'twas my voice pronounced the cruel ſentence:

(appears to be going down but turns back ſuddenly)

'Twas to offended honor that I ſacrificed her. No, I'll not go down, leſt, ſoſten'd by the fight of her miſery, my heart betray me to a weakneſs.

AIR. EUGENIA (from the dungeon) KOROWITZ liſtens with great emotion.
Oh, cheering hope! Oh, faithful guide!
Thou too art gone, the captive cried,
Then fainting ſtoop'd to earth, and died.
Kor.
[20]

That voice diſarms me. Shall I then venture to look on her? no! let me not forget that ſhe refuſes to ſpeak the name of him who bore her from my cowardly ſervants in triumph, who detained her thee long weeks, and extorted from her, as ſhe ſays, an oath never to reveal his name. She loves him—Hell is in that thought; ſhe ſhall ſpeak his name or never more behold the light. At midnight her ſon ſhall deſcend with me. If that fail, I muſt ſeek a new guardian of this dungeon. I am inclined to truſt Kourakin, but I muſt be wary.

(knocking without)

Who preſumes to knock

(aloud and ſternly)

who knocks?

Kou.

'Tis me, Sir, ſaving your preſnce, and with all poſſible ſubmiſſion, and not deſiring to come in if your Honor does not pleaſe to chooſe it.

Kor. (much agitated ſhuts the ſpring which diſcloſed the entrance of the dungeon and opens the door of the room)

come in—

Enter KOURAKIN.
Kou.

What the devil can he be doing here ſo long? Surely this cannot be the room that—

(looks anxiouſly round)
Kor.
(ſternly)

Kourakin.

Kou.
(frightened)

you honour!

Kor.

No! I'll firſt make proof of her affection [21]to her child

(makes a ſign to Kourakin to leave the room)
Kou.

I aſk pardon, your honour, I have a ſlight favour to beg of your honour.

Kor.

What is it?

Kou.

Your honour knows, I am to be married to morrow.

Kor.

What then?

(impatiently)
Kou.

You were ſo good to give Moolina and me leave to keep our wedding in the caſtle.

Kor.

Well!

Kou.

Well, your honor, and ſo I came to tell you that this hall being the moſt diſtant from your apartment, we had made choice of it for our little hop, that we might not diſturb you.

Kor.

This hall!

(with agitation)
Kou.
(frightened)

Why, as your honour knows, the caſtle is not in the beſt repair all over. This room ſeems the moſt ſecure, and the beſt for our hop, becauſe they ſay there are vaults under it. Is it true, Sir?

(KOROWITZ ſtarts)

So, Sir, with your leave, it ſhall be here.

(KOROWITZ appears thoughtful, and affected; during his ſilence KOURAKIN ſeeing his countenance more mild, ventures nearer to him)

Won't my maſter be pleaſed to honor with his preſence the happieſt day of Kourakin's life? I am ſure your honor has a good heart at bottom; I know, though you ſeem ſo ſtern, you do not mean to be ill-natured [22]to any one, and if, to divert your melancholy, you were to take a pretty little wife too, ſuch an one as—

Kor.
(with a half ſtifled voice)

a wife!

Kou.

Such an one as I could recommend, your honour, might be as happy as I am—

Kor.
(unable to reſtrain his emotion)

Happy! oh!

Exit haſtily.
Kou.
(looking after him with ſurprize)

well ſaid, Bear! What an incomprehenſible animal it is! the firſt civil word he hears, he takes fright and runs away.

Enter MOOLINA.
Kou.

Well, Moolina, I have obtained by maſter's leave for a dance, but it muſt not be here. Oh; if you had ſeen his face when I mentioned it!

(imitates the geſtures and countenance of KOROWITZ)

ſo we will now return to our friends, and be as merry as merry hearts can make us.

DUET. KOURAKIN and MOOLA.
Moo.
When you and I, love, married are,
And hearts and hands entwine;
Kou.
Oh, how we'll make the neighbours ſtare,
So ſmart! ſo gay! ſo fine!
Moo.
[23]
When ſong and carol ſweetly found,
We'll bear away the bell:
Kou.
And when we dance a merry round,
There's none ſhall dance ſo well.
Both.

When you and I, love, married are, &c.

Moo.
The lads are always teazing me,
And ſtrive my heart to win;
Kou.
Let other girls their ſweethearts be,
And thine be Kourakin!
Moo.
The lasses all, whene'er you call,
Look round with ſmiling eyne;
Kou.
But marry they with whom they may,
Moulina ſhall be mine.
Both.

When you and I, love, &c.

Exit KOU. and MOOLA.
Scene changes to another part of the caſtle, where the peaſants of the village are aſſembled in honor of Kourakin's intended wedding.
DANCE OF PEASANTS.
CHORUS.
Come, neighbours, to the hall!
Come, come, come, come along!
'Tis the bridegroom doth call,
Strike up the cheerful ſong!
Tripping, tripping o'er the ground,
Lightly, neatly,
Gaily, featly,
Dance a merry, merry round!
[24] Bring along the flowing bowl,
And right jolly we will be;
Let us welcome mirth and glee,
And our catches blithely troll!
Tripping, tripping o'er the ground,
Lightly, neatly,
Gaily, fealty,
Dance a merry, merry round!
Kourakin, Moola and Mouſic enter, and take their places at a table prepared for them, during the continuance of the Feſtival, which conſiſts of various Dances, &c. &c.
END OF ACT I.

*ACT II.

[]

SCENE I.

Apartment in the Caſtle dimly lighted.
Enter CANZEMAR and MOUSIC. Mouſic has a Portmanteau in his hands, and keeps always cloſe to Canzemar thro' exceſs of fear.
Can.

To ſleep, is impoſſible in the place they aſſign'd us.

Mou.
[26]

Oh!—ſuch a wind! ſuch beds! and thoſe curſed doors at my back and ſhoulders!

Can.

Look if there be not ſome way out at the end of the gallery.

Mou.

No, Sir, there is none.

Can.

How do you know? go and ſee—Why don't you go?

Mou.

Dear Sir, you don't conſider; I—

Can.

Do as I order you.

Mou.

Don't preſs me ſo much, pray don't; If any harm ſhould befal you, while I am gone, I never could forgive myſelf.

Can.
(laughing).

Shall we ſtay here then?

Mou.

Yes, let us ſtay here.

Can.

Fetch me that arm chair.

Mou.

A—an—arm chair;

(not daring to move, or to look round)

. I don't ſee any, Sir.

Can.

There, down yonder—

Mou.
(going a ſtep or two, returns)

If you would but be ſo good, Sir, juſt to ſhew it me.

Can.

I perceive I muſt fetch it myſelf;

(brings [27]forward a chair, and ſits down)

. I ſhall ſeat myſelf here, and try to ſleep.

Mou.

And I, here,

(places himſelf on the ground cloſe to his maſter, making a pillow of the portmanteau).
Can.

Silence then—

Mou.

I'll be as ſtill as a mouſe.

(Mouſic lies down on the portmanteau, to ſleep. A noiſe in the gallery. He puts his ear to the ground to liſten, then ſtarts up in a fright).

Sir! Sir! I am certain of it; I heard it.—

Can.

What an inſufferable coward!

(riſing)

Heard, what?

Mou.

There, below, a great way off. It is one, Sir; it is a ghoſt, an apparition! The ſteward or the young lady!—Don't you ſee a dark lanthorn, and a man with two piſtols? they are coming to murder us!

Can.

My ſword! quick; fetch it.

Mon.

I ſhall never be able to find it. I ſee two men now coming with two dark—

Can.

Pſha! fool! It is Kourakin.

Mou.

My fear makes me ſee double—Don't they—I mean, does not be beckon to us?

Can.

To you I think he beckons—he has perhaps a better bed to ſhew us.

Mou.

Then, if you pleaſe, I'll go to him.

Can.
[28]

Do ſo—but be ſure you are ready for departure in the morning.

Mou.

Oh, never fear—the thoughts of ghoſts will keep me on the watch.

Exit. MOUSIC.
Can.

Kourakin will be happy with the object of his wiſhes!—a bleſſing, to which my heart muſt be a ſtranger.

AIR.
CANZEMAR.
Oh, cruel Fortune! buſy thou
To mock the conſtant heart;
To bind the cold, the joyleſs vow,
And plighted love to part!
Exit CANZEMAR.

SCENE II.

The Hall in the Caſtle, with the concealed door of the Souterrain.
Enter KOROWITZ—(a brace of piſtols in his belt)— leading in IWAN, whoſe eyes are bandaged.
Iwan.

Where are we going, Father?

Kor.

Are you frighten'd?

Iwan.

I ſhould be, if I was not with you— but I am not afraid now, becauſe I know you are here too.

Kor.
[29]

Your courage pleaſes me—but you muſt be ſomething more than brave—

Iwan.

What muſt I be, Father?

Kor.

Diſcreet beyond thy years.

Iwan.

I'll do all I can to pleaſe you.

Kor.

And ſecret as the grave.—I muſt diſcloſe to you a circumſtance, on which a father's happineſs, nay, a father's life depends.

Iwan.

And did you think I would ever tell that again, Pappa?—Oh fie!

Kor.

The boy reproves me—You are very young—

Iwan.

Not too young to love you dearly—

KOR. touches the ſpring of the concealed door, which opens and diſcovers the iron grate of the Dungeon. He raiſes the grate, then leads the boy towards it, and unites the bandage of his eyes.
Kor.

Go down thoſe ſteps, and bring me a baſket which you will find there.—

IWAN goes down a few ſteps of the Dungeon, and returns with a baſket.
Kor.
(taking up the baſket, ſtarts)

How! the baſket of yeſterday's proviſions untouch'd!

(IWAN goes down again unperceived by [30]KOROWITZ)

Hapleſs woman! can ſhe deſign to terminate life by theſe means! the idea chills my blood—If I thought a ray of hope might contribute to—

Iwan.
(returns)

Oh Father, What do you think I have ſeen?

Kor.

Speak—quickly—

Iwan.

A poor woman, down in that dark place—

Kor.
(affected)

Boy, it is thy mother.

Iwan.

My mother! you told me ſome time ago that ſhe was dead—

Kor.

To the world perhaps ſhe is.

Iwan.

Will you kill her then?

Kor.
(with great emotion of tenderneſs)

Kill her! She is the very idol of my ſoul. Did ſhe perceive thee juſt now?

Iwan.

No, I am ſure, not—for ſhe was faſt aſleep on the ground.

Kor.

Aſleep! aſleep!

(ſhudders)

It muſt be as I ſuſpect—Her blood lie on my head!

Iwan.
(frightened)

What did you ſay, Father?

Kor.
(angrily)

Begone—here—remain here till I come to you—

(leads the child to an inner door, and ſhuts him within it).

If ſhe be dead, I will have no witneſs of the fatal end of my ſeverity—

(he approaches the ſteps)

Eugenia!

(louder)

[31]Eugenia!—

(liſtens anxiouſly—a pauſe—during which be expreſſes great agitation)

Eugenia!

Eug.
(from the Dungeon)

Who calls Eugenia?

Kor.

She lives! Aſcend.

(Eugenia aſcends the ſteps of the Dungeon, and comes out: She appears pale and faint)
Eug.

Korowitz!—I had loſt the hope ever to look on you again. Comes my huſband hither as my deliverer or my judge?

Kor.

Perhaps as both—if you are prepared to confeſs your crime—

Eug.

Theſe caverns are the witneſs of my ſuſfering—Heaven of my innocence.

Kor.

Thy innocence! Thou art reſolved then—to the ſafety of a paramour thou wilt ſacrifice thy huſband and thy ſon

Eug.

My ſon!

(violently agitated)

Since I have been buried here, I have never heard him named by any voice but mine—Oh tell me, Korowitz, for pity tell me if he lives and proſpers—

Kor.

He lives and weeps for thee—When I firſt brought thee hither, I cauſed a report to be ſpread of thy death—

Eug.
(ſtarts)

And ſhall I never ſee my boy again! Cruel Korowitz! Haſt thou ſeparated us for ever!

Kor.

Hear me, Eugenia! this is the laſt hour— mark me, the laſt—which muſt irrevocably decide [32]my will: If thou wouldſt wiſh to ſee thy ſon again—

Eug.

Oh ſpare me! If thou bid me hope to ſee my boy again, be careful thou doſt not deceive me!

Kor.

I do not deceive thee, but remember the confeſſion, which muſt, if you wiſh me to bring him to thee.——

Eug.

Bring him to me—If I wiſh it!—Oh, canſt thou aſk that queſtion of a mother?

Kor.

Beware, Eugenia! Remember the conditions.

Eug.

Let me look upon my ſon!

Kor.

This is to promiſe compliance.

(KOROWITZ goes to the door and leads out IWAN, EUGENIA runs eagerly to him)
Eug.

My boy! my boy! my long loſt boy!

(embraces him).
(KOROWITZ advances, takes IWAN'S hand, and turns to EUGENIA).
Kor.

Eugenia!

(looking at her with ſeverity)
Eug.

I underſtand you—Yet, ere I looſe the bond of an oath regiſtered in heaven, pledge me thy word, that my confeſſion ſhall not involve—

Kor.
[33]

I make no terms—confeſs inſtantly, or you loſe your ſon again—

(A great noiſe heard without)
(CANZEMAR without) KOROWITZ!
(KOROWITZ and EUGENIA both ſtart)
Kor.

Whoſe voice was that?

Lie.
(without)

Sir, Sir,—here are armed men at the gate.

Kor.

Withdraw, or death awaits thee.—

(obſerving Eugenia advancing, ſtops her)

At thy peril raiſe thy voice—

Lie.
(without)

They have orders from the Emperor, and inſiſt on admittance—

Kor.

Arm all my people—I come—Eugenia, return to the cavern—Iwan follow me.

Eug.
(claſping her child)

We will not part a ſecond time.

Kor.

'Twill be for ever.

(KOROWITZ ſtoops to ſeize the boy's hand, who clings to EUGENIA).
Iwan.

Oh, let me go! I will ſtay with my mother.

Lie.
[34]
(without)

My lord! my lord! open the door—

Kor.

Be it ſo then.

(to Iwan)

go down with her—

(Eugenia and Iwan go to the ſteps)

— but tremble, leſt this grate ſhould never open on ye more.

(they go down; Korowitz cloſes the iron grate, replaces the ſpring, and haſtens to open the other door, at which enter Canzemar, Liebſtoff, &c. &c.
Can.

Korowitz! my honour'd uncle! is it thus we meet again!

Kor.

Canzemar! What is this diſturbance? how came you into this caſtle?

Can.

Travelling to—but this is no time for explanation— you are accuſed of crimes—there are orders for your arreſt—if you are guilty, ſly inſtantly—

(Korowitz diſturbed)

If you are innocent, appear and vindicate yourſelf.—

Kor.

Vindicate myſelf!

Can.

They talk of ſome ſecret marriage—a lady of the name of Eugenia—

Kor.

Go on—of what am I accuſed?

Can.

Her ſudden death is imputed to you— within theſe few days her child too is miſſing— her family have brought their accuſation before the Emperor, who commands you immediately to appear—Come to Prague—three days will ſuffice—

Kor.
[35]
(with evident anxiety)

Three days! and no creature—miſerable, hopeleſs ſufferers! Canzemar, obſerve me well: 'tis in your power to render me the moſt ſignal ſervice.

Can.

Command me in what you pleaſe, but quickly—the Emperor's officers—

Kor.

True;—know then, that, in a Souterrain of this Caſtle, I devote to my juſt reſentment a victim—

Can.

A victim! can it be ſhe, who—

Kor.

Make no enquiries: accept the ſacred truſt; let food,—conveyed by none but yourſelf, be conſtantly ſupplied, ſufficient to ſupport an unhappy woman, and a ſtill more helpleſs being, dear to my heart—underneath this hall—an iron grating—Heavens! they come!

[Guards enter as he is ſpeaking, and drive back the ſervants who oppoſed them. An officer advances to KOROWITZ, and delivers to him the orders for his arreſt.]
March of Soldiers.
CHORUS. Officer, KOROWITZ, CANZEMAR, Soldiers, &c.
Chorus.
Where wrongs oppreſs, or helpleſs ſorrows cry,
Imperial Juſtice darts her ſleepleſs eye;
And, 'midſt the murky ſhades of low'ring night,
Tracks, undeceiv'd, the murd'rers ſecret flight.
Off.
[36]

Order! Arms!

Canz.
Ring out th' alarm!
Bid ev'ry faithful vaſſal arm!
(KOROWITZ ſhews the orders of arreſt to CANZEMAR)
(Canz. reads)
Our Sov'reign's mandate at your hands
The Baron Korowitz demands.
Kor.

Behold him!

Chorus.

Hence with us away!

Kor.

I yield!

Chorus.

He yields, and all obey.

Canz.

Yet grant a few moments! Oh, grant to

(to Off.)

my pray'r, At parting, one friendly farewell!

(to Kor.)

Now ſpeak, what your pleaſure—

(to Off.)

to yield we prepare;

(to Kor.)

Your purpoſe theſe moments may tell.

Chorus.

Away with this triſting! our orders are clear:

Canz.

Yet ſpeak!

(to Kor. Korowitz appears violently agitated, but refuſes to ſpeak to Canzemar.)
Off.

Come away! we are loiterers here.

Canz.
How wildly in his mien confeſt,
The ſtormy paſſions tear his breaſt!
Kor.

Away! this inſtant! hence, away!

All.
He yields—he yields—and all obey—
Away, this inſtant! hence, away!
(KOROWITZ is led off guarded by the ſoldiers— CANZEMAR &c. go out on the other ſide.

SCENE III.

[37]
A ruinous part of the Caſtle.
* Enter KOURAKIN with a candle in his hand, and MOUSIC with a bottle—both drunk.
Kou.

Come, comrade—now we have taken a ſober glaſs together, we'll go back to my bride—a pretty, elegant—genteel girl—juſt— juſt—

Mou.

Juſt fit for you—

Kou.

That's the very thing I was juſt going to ſay—here—do you take the candle, and I'll take your arm

(leaning on him)

and ſhow you the way.

(gives Mouſic the candle)
Mou.

Kourakin, do you think this road ſafe?

Kou.

Safe! what the devil ails it? is it not the road from the cellar to the hall? I warrant me, I travel to the cellar often enough in the day to judge whether the road be ſafe or not—

Mou.

Aye, but—look up at that roof—

(liſts the candle towards the roof)
Kou.

Why, what is the matter with the roof?

Mou.

It rocks ſo—backward and forward—

Kou.
[38]

Poh,—pho!—rocks indeed! faith, I think it does rock a little—but you ſaid it rocks backward and forward—now I think it rocks ſideways.

Mou.

You know you told us this evening that the other half was tumbling.—

(he drops the bottle)

oh lord! there is ſome of it dropt now at my foot.

Kou.
(looking firſt with fear, but, ſeeing the bottle, laughs)

Ha! ha! why, Mouſic—in ſober ſadneſs, I believe you have a drop in your head— that's the bottle, fool—it's a mercy you did not break it and ſpill the liquor.

Mou.

No fear of that—we ſaw the liquor clear out, before we left the cellar—

(Stoops to pick up the bottle and lets the candle fall—it goes out)
Mou.
(trembling)

Kourakin!

Kou.

What's the matter?

Mou.

The candle's gone out—if there ſhould be robbers here! I'm horribly afraid—

Kou.

Never mind the robbers—the only thing I am afraid of, is—that you are tipſy.

Mou.
(angrily)

No ſuch thing—I'm as ſober as you are—hey day! what's all this?

Enter CANZEMAR and OTHERS with lights.
Can.

What are you doing here, Sirrah!

(to Mouſic)
Mou.
[39]

Sir—I—honeſt Kourakin and I—

Can.

Are both drunk, I ſee.

Mou.

No Sir, only a little overcome with fear, that's all.

Can.

Anſwer me, Kourakin; what knowledge have you of vaults under theſe apartments, where a woman and child are inhumanly buried?

Kou.

A woman and child buried!—I know of only one vault under theſe rooms, and there's neither woman or child buried in that.—to be ſure, Mouſic and I have juſt left a few dead men there—

Can.

How!

Kou.

All — all natural ſubjects of Bohemia.

Can.

Blockhead!—we'll dig up the whole caſtle rather than forego our ſearch.

Kou.

With all my heart—the ſooner it tumbles the better—only keep clear of the wine-cellar—don't let the air in there to ſpoil the wine.

Can.

Follow us, ſirrah!

(Exit CANZEMAR, &c.)
Kou.

Come—come, Mouſic—we'll follow together, and you ſhall go firſt—I don't know how it is to-day—every thing in my head goes round like a catharine-wheel.

(Exeunt MOUSIC and KOURAKIN arm in arm)

SCENE IV.

[40]
A Foreſt.
Enter KOROWITZ, his ſword drawn, and as if flying from purſuit.
Kor.

This way alone remained—I have eſcaped my guards, and will return to preſerve the life of Eugenia.

(looks out at the ſide)

Yonder they come—they track me—if they ſeize me once again—

(runs out)

SCENE the laſt.

The upper part of the ſtage repreſents ruins of the caſtle and open ground covered with ſnow;—the ſnow continues to fall. The lower part exhibits the inſide of the Souterrain, in which EUGENIA and IWAN are confined. In the vault of the dungeon appears the iron grating, from which ſteps deſcend into the cavern —a lamp hangs from the roof.
EUGENIA is diſcovered within the dungeon ſeated by IWAN, who lies on a mean couch aſleep.
Eug.
(riſes)

The laſt threat of Korowitz will be accompliſh'd—the accuſtom'd hour is paſt, and no one opens the dungeon to convey my ſcanty food— [41]

(liſtens)

ſurely thoſe were diſtant voices—

(attempts to croſs to the place whence ſhe thought the ſound came, but is too faint—liſtens again)

—my exhauſted ſtrength prevented me from calling for aid—I hear them no more—

(looks with tenderneſs at her child)

Heaven will not abandon that little innocent—he was not reſtored to me only to die in my arms.—

AIR.
Dwell, gentle ſleep, on Iwan's eyes,
That witneſs not a mother's woes:
Nor let him mark my heaving ſighs,
Nor view my grief, that ſilent flows!
I'll not bedew that glowing cheek
With tears, that fall, dear boy, for thee,
Left, falling, they thy ſlumbers break,
And teach thee how to weep for me.
(IWAN wakes and riſes from the couch)
Iwan.

Do you never ſee the day light here?

Eug.
—(ſighs)

Never—

Iwan.

But I don't wiſh to ſee it without you— you ſaid they ſometimes brought you food at theſe ſteps—

Eng.

None has been brought to-night.

(alarm'd)

didſt thou complain my child?

Iwan.
(apparently faint and ill)

No, mother— Iam very well—quite well—indeed—

Eug.
[42]

Thou flattereſt me—thy icy hands— deareſt child, the want of air, of nouriſhment—

Iwan.
(running into her arms)

You do not ſuſfer leſs than I do: why ſhould I not be as patient as you are?

Eug.

I am inured to the dampneſs of this cavern, but thy tender age—

(lifting her hands to to heaven)

Oh heaven!

(tries to warm his hards by breathing on them)
Iwan.
(in a weak voice)

I am ſtrong enough yet—I can yet—

(his voice entirely fails)
Eug.

He faints! and no help! my ſon! Iwan!

(ſhe tries to recover him)

(expreſſes joy)

he claſps my hand—oh no, he is dying!—I now feel I am a mother, and repent.

(a flaſh of light appears amongſt the rocks)

what glimmering light is that? nothing ſo bright has ever viſited theſe caves—

(the light of torches is diſcovered poſſing near the ſummit of the Souterain)

My child! look up! they are coming hither to preſerve us—you ſhall not die—here is food—

(IWAN lifts up his head, but is unable to ſupport himſelf)

all, all is over—

(the lamp goes out)

the light extinguiſhed too!—Korowitz—Help! Help!—alas no help is near—no hope remains—embrace me, my ſweet child! preſs me in thy arms—we will die thus together—

(they remain folded in each other's arms)
[43] SYMPHONY. Men with torches and pickaxes are ſeen above the Souterrain, digging and breaking up the vault: large ſtones fall and at length—the opening of the Souterrain falls in. Eugenia is frightened, ſhrieks, but thinks only of ſaving her boy from danger: the workmen above, ſatisfied with their ſucceſs, proceed no farther amongst the ruins.—CANZEMAR leaps down and runs to EUCENIA—EUGENIA faints on the body of her child—CANZEMAR expreſſes mixed concern and ſurprize at ſeeing her.
During the action above deſcribed, is ſung the following
AIR AND CHORUS.
Eng.
What ſounds are thoſe? above, around,
Increaſing niurmurs ſhake the ground.
Chorus.
(without and at a diſtance)

Eugenia!

Eug.
Liſten! Whence that ſound?
— 'Twas but the ſhrill reſounding ſhore,
Or haply, but the ſullen roar
Of hollow wintry wind.
Chorus.
(more diſtinctly heard)

Eugenia!

Eng.
Liſten, Iwan! hear!
Was't not a voice that met my ear,
Sweet voice of human kind?
[44] —'Twas but ſome houſeleſs bird, that flies,
Amid the menace of the ſkies,
To ſeek theſe caverns drear;—
'Twas but the lightning, flaſhing bright
Athwart the lonely gloom of night;—
No human aid is near!
Chorus.
(aloud and in ſight)

Eugenia!

Eug.

Here!

Chorus.
She's found! She's found!
Our labours with ſucceſs are crown'd!
Canz.
Eugenia! lift thy heart to joy!
Safety's at hand.
Eug.
Oh! ſave my boy!
(ſhe kneels)
Oh, pow'r ſupreme, my child deſend!
Oh! hear a mother's pray'r!
Let him to light, to life aſcend,
Beneath thy guardian care!
Canz. and Chor.
She's found!—She's found! Our ſorrow ends!
Eugenia, lift thy heart to joy!
Behold! around thee all are friends,
Who guard thy life; who ſave thy boy!
KOROWITZ appears on the upper part of the ruins, as flying from the guard (who purſue him) and defending himſelf with his ſword againſt them—
Kor.

Away—Away! tho' guilty, her life ſhall be preſerv'd—

(he leaps down into the cavern and runs to EUGENIA, who, ſtill fainting, is now ſupported [45]by CANZEMAR).

Heavens! what do I ſee!

Can.

The innocent victim of thy ſeverity. In me behold the unhappy cauſe of thy ſuſpicions—

(KOROWITZ turns towards CANZEMAR in great rage)

The ſecrecy of thy union may beſt plead in excuſe of my offence—thy wife was ſpotleſs as the ſnow of heaven! but ſee! ſhe revives!

Kor.
(kneels and claſps EUCENIA in his arms)

Eugenia! look up, thou injur'd ſufferer!

Eug.
(lifting her eyes and hands towards him)

My huſband!

(KOROWITZ raiſes EUGENIA from the ground, while others appear to adminiſter relief to IWAN, who is afterwards embraced tenderly by his parents.)
FINAL CHORUS.
Hope, thy genia! ray we feel,
Charming ev'ry care to reſt:
Lo! returning pleaſures ſteal
Gently o'er her heaving breaſt!
Loudly now let tranſport ſwell!
Notes of joy our rapture tell!
While the vaulted caves around
Echo back the welcome ſound.
Eug.
[47]
Bright thoſe eyes with mercy beam!
Once again I claſp my boy!
Ceaſe, my ſoul, thy ſe rſul dream;
Waken to the voice of joy!
Chorus
While the vaulted caves around
Echo back the welcome ſound!
The curtain falls.
Notes
*
A ſhort ſcene was added in repreſentation at the opening of the 2d act, for the purpoſe of introducing an air ſung by Mrs. Bland. The air only is here printed. AIR.
MOOLA.
IN poor ones ne'er let envy riſe,
Or love of wealth allure,
Since wealth can cloſe no wakeful eyes,
No wounds of ſorrow cure.
A conſcience pure ſtill let me keep,
To make my ſlumbers light,
And when I lay me down to ſleep,
Bid ev'ry care good night!
Contentment, like the tranquil dove,
Reſts on my couch at eve.
Nor ſhall, when near me ſleeps my love,
My humble pillow leave:
For there we'll let no diſcord creep,
To break our ſlumbers light,
But, when we lay us down to ſleep,
Wiſh from the heart good night.
*
Objections having been made to parts of this ſcene, the whole was omitted on the 2nd night of performance.—As much as is here printed, is retained, not in vain deſiance of criticiſm, but on account of its obvious tendency, in the latter part, to explain the progreſs of the Drama.
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Citation Suggestion for this Object
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3815 The captive of Spilburg in two acts as performed at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane altered from the favourite French drama called Le souterrain with a preface by the translator The music by Dussek. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5986-9