We've tarried long your coming, and meanwhile
Have found your proxy in a madman monk,
Whom, for the future, we would pray you spare us.
(Re-enter Gentleman with wine.)

So, so! the draught restores us. Fair La Vallière,
Make not yon holy man your confessor;
You'll find small comfort in his lectures.

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

Sire,

His meaning is more kindly than his manner.
I pray you, pardon him.

LOUIS.

Ay, ay!

No more;

Let's think of him no more. You had, this morn,
A courtlier visitant, methinks-De Lauzun?

Down, my full heart! the Duke declares your wish
Is that-that I should bind this broken heart

And-no! I cannot speak

(With great and sudden energy.)

You wish me wed, Sire?

LOUIS.

'Twere best that you should wed; and yet, De Lauzun Is scarce the happiest choice.-But as thou wilt.

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

'Twere best that I should wed!-thou saidst it, Louis; Say it once more!

LOUIS.

In honesty, I think so.

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

My choice is made, then-I obey the fiat,

And will become a bride!

LOUIS.

The Duke has sped!

I trust he loves thyself, and not thy dower.

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

The Duke! what, hast thou read so ill this soul
That thou couldst deem thus meanly of that book
Whose every page was bared to thee? A bitter
Lot has been mine-and this sums up the measure.
Go, Louis! go!-All glorious as thou art—
Earth's Agamemnon-the great king of men-
Thou wert not worthy of this woman's heart!

LOUIS.

Her passion moves me !-Then your choice has fallen Upon a nobler bridegroom?

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

Sire, it hath!

Nay, sigh not, my sweet Duchess. Speak not so sadly. What, though love hath past Friendship remains; and still my fondest hope Is to behold thee happy. Come !-thy hand; Let us be friends! We are so !

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

Friends!-No more!

So it hath come to this! I am contented!

Yes we are friends!

LOUIS.

And when your choice is made,

You will permit your friend to hail your bridals?

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

Ay, when my choice is made!

Enter the Duchess de La Vallière.

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

Your blessing, father.

BRAGELONE.

Let courts and courtiers bless the favoured Duchess :
Courts bless the proud; God's ministers, the humble.
DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

He taunts me, this poor friar! Well, my father,
I have obeyed your summons. Do you seek
Masses for souls departed ?—or the debt
The wealthy owe the poor ?-say on!

BRAGELONE (aside.)

Her heart

Is not yet hardened! Daughter, such a mission
Were sweeter than the task which urged me hither:
You had a lover once-a plain, bold soldier ;

He loved you well!

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

Ah, Heaven!

BRAGELONE.

And you forsook him.

Your choice was natural-some might call it noble !

And this blunt soldier pardoned the desertion,
But sunk at what his folly termed dishonour.

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

O, Father, spare me !-if dishonour were,

It rested but with me.

BRAGELONE.

So deemed the world,

But not that foolish soldier he had learned

To blend his thoughts, his fame, himself, with thee;
Thou wert a purer, a diviner self;

He loved thee as a warrior worships glory;

He loved thee as a Roman honoured virtue ;
He loved thee as thy sex adore ambition;
And when Pollution breathed upon his idol,
It blasted glory, virtue, and ambition,
Fill'd up each crevice in the world of thought,
And poisoned earth with thy contagious shame!
DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

Spare me! in mercy, spare me !

BRAGELONE.

This poor fool,

This shadow, living only on thy light,

When thou wert darkened, could but choose to die.
He left the wars ;-no fame, since thine was dim:
He left his land ;-what home without Louise?
It booke that stubborn, stern, unbending heart-
It broke and, breaking, its last sigh-forgave thee !
DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

And I live on!

BRAGELONE.

One eve, methinks, he told me,

Thy hand around his hauberk wound scarf;
And thy voice bade him Wear it for the sake
Of one who honoured worth!' Were those the words?

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

They were. Alas! alas!

BRAGELONE.

He wore it, Lady,

Till memory ceased. It was to him the token
Of a sweet dream; and, from his quiet grave,
He sends it now to thee.-Its hues are faded.

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

Give it me!-let me bathe it with my tears!
Memorial of my guilt-

BRAGELONE (in a soft and tender accent.)

And his forgiveness!

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

That tone-ha! while thou speakest, in thy voice,
And in thy presence, there is something kindred
To him we jointly mourn thou art—

Of whom, perchance, in ancient years he told thee;
Who, early wearied of this garish world,
Fled to the convent-shade, and found repose.

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE (approaching.)

Ay, is it so?-thou'rt Bragelone's brother?
Why, then, thou art what he would be, if living→
A friend to one most friendless!

BRAGELONE.

Friendless!-Ay,

Thou hast learnt, betimes, the truth, that man's wild passion
Makes but its sport of virtue, peace, affection;

And breaks the plaything when the game is done!
Friendless!-I pity thee!

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

Oh! holy Father,

Stay with me!-succour me!-reprove, but guide me :
Teach me to wean my thoughts from earth to heaven,
And be what God ordained his chosen priests-
Foes to our sin, but friends to our despair.

BRAGELONE.

Daughter, a heavenly and a welcome duty,
But one most rigid and austere : there is
No composition with our debts of sin.

God claims thy soul; and, lo! his creature there!
Thy choice must be between them—God or man,
Virtue or guilt; a Louis or-

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.

A Louis!

Not mine the poor atonement of the choice;
I am, myself, the Abandoned One!

BRAGELONE.

I know it;

Therefore my mission and my ministry.
When he who loved thee died, he bade me wait
The season when the sicklied blight of change
Creeps o'er the bloom of Passion, when the way
Is half prepared by Sorrow to Repentance,
And seek you then,—he trusted not in vain :
Perchance an idle hope, but it consoled him.

DUCHESS DE LA VALLIÈRE.
No, no!-not idle!-in my happiest hours,
When the world smiled, a void was in this heart
The world could never fill: thy brother knew me !

BRAGELONE.

I do believe thee, daughter. Hear me yet;

My mission is not ended. When thy mother
Lay on the bed of death, (she went before

The sterner heart the same blow broke more slowly,)