The Dragon Knight or The Queen of Beauty I. ACT ONE SCENE ONE:   Exterior of the ancient college of Navarre in the City of Paris. Gothic Gateway guarded by Archers. Students of Paris, Artizans, Mob, &c. discovered clamoring for admittance. Music as the Curtain rises. Murmurs of Populace. 1st Scholar.   Down with the Gates! 2nd Scholar.   We will have our privileges! Mob.   Down with the Rector! Place for the schools! [The Gates are thrown open and Captain Larchant and Guard appear at the entrance.] Larchant.   Back! Back messieurs, scholars! Free passage for the Rector and his train! Archers, advance and make clear the way! [The Archers force the Scholars back.] Trumpets sound. A body of Guards enter followed by the Doctors of Canon and Civil Law, Theology and Medicine – Bedels – the Viscomte de Joyeuse, D’Eperon. Then appears the Rector and Crichton of Clunis followed by Divines, Students, &c. Flourish. Shouts. Crichton Bows. Rector.   Messieurs, Scholars of the University of Paris. You have already learned, I doubt not, that your most erudite doctors have this day sustained a defeat. A defeat that while it reflects no disgrace on the conquered, enhances the glory of the victor. In the whole circle of science and learning the noble Crichton hath approved his supremacy, and we willingly surrender to him our laurels. I would tender for his acceptance, as a mark of our esteem, this ring, as a trophy of the conquest he has this day achieved. Crichton. When the phoenix of his age was proffered the honors of the Romanesbook, he declined them, saying that he felt his own unworthiness. In imitation of his illustrious conduct, I would say, Fortune has already favored me beyond my deserts. Grant, however, that I have triumphed – you have bestowed upon me your applause – I am fully requited. Scholars.   (Shouting.) Live, Crichton! Rector.   The gifts of the University of Paris are not wont to be slighted. [Takes ring from his finger, and places it on that of Crichton.] Let this token bespeak our love of modesty and merit. Live, admirable Crichton! [Removes his purse from sash.] This purse is also yours – do with it what you think proper. [Presents purse.] Crichton.   I may not decline your offer further, though I feel how little I merit it. The ring I shall prize, but as to the contents of the purse, you must suffer me to dispose of it as I shall see fitting. [Scatters gold coins among Mob and Scholars. They shout. Chicot, the Jester, enters. He pushes the mob aside, and hastily picks up part of the money.] Chicot.   By your leave, my masters. This is good. I like a fine sight as well as my neighbors. One fool makes many. D’Eperon. Stand aside, Sir Fool! Your folly is mistimed. Chicot.   Why should you stop me? Folly was ever current in the University of Paris! Besides, on this occasion, all my wisdom is needed. Wisdom and Folly are nearer akin than you suppose, gossip! [Takes his arm – Mob laughs.] Genevra, disguised as a Page, advances through the crowd, and kneeling, places a wreath of bay leaves at Crichton’s feet. Genevra.   Disdain not my offering, signor Crichton, simple though it may be. Crichton.   The compliment is too flattering to be declined, and too graceful to be unwelcome. Are you one of these colleges? Chicot. He is one of the Gelosi, signor Crichton – be not deceived by his honest look. Crichton.   One of the Gelosi! Ha! Now I remember thy features. ‘Tis the youth I have seen so oft. Tell me, what may mean that masked figure, whom I have seen forever hovering nigh in thy walks? [Mantua, the Mask, appears at the back.] Is it a device of thine own to attract curiosity, young sir? Chicot.   Ah, is it, young sir? Genevra.   Have you remarked that mask, signor? I have often thought it was a trick of my own imagination that conjured up this phantom. [Turns and sees the Mask near her.] See – see! ‘tis there again! [Covers her eyes. The Mask disappears among the crowd – at the same moment, Cravanga, an Assassin, darts forward from the Crowd on the opposite side and strides at Crichton with his dagger – Genevra throws herself forward and receives the blow on her arm, then staggers into Crichton’s arms – Cravanga escapes rapidly.] Mob.   (Shouting and following Cravanga) Arrest the murderer! Down with the assassin; Crichton is slain! Joyeuse.   By my halidom, the murderer shall not escape! Forward, archers! [Archers, headed by Joyeuse, exit rapidly, leaving Crichton, Genevra and Chicot on the stage. Shouts. Crichton binds Genevra’s arm with his scarf.] Crichton.   (Looking off) They approach the assassin – they seize him! Mort Dieu! They will tear him to pieces! This must be prevented. We must not stand by and see murder like this committed. Look to my precious charge, sir Jester. [Draws his sword.] On, Crichton, to the rescue! [Crichton exits rapidly.] Chicot.   I will – I will – gossip; and, by this good sword, I mean – [Draws sword which is of wood.] – to defend – defend myself as long as I can – with my heels – not with my blade, lest it play me false and break - seeing it is of wood! [Shouts, and clashing of swords without.] Wisdom runs into danger – Folly runs out! [Chicot exits hastily behind the gateway.] Genevra.   (Recovering) His voice whispered words of kindness on mine ears – his looks breathed tenderness, as his eyes bent towards my features. I dare not trust myself to encounter those loved eyes again, lest I betray my sex. Wretched Genevra! Whither shall I bend my steps! Where can the outcast Geloso find refuge? [The Mask has re-entered during this Speech, and approaches her.] Mask.   In my arms! [Seizing her hand.] Genevra.   (Screaming) That voice! It is – it must be he! – [Breaks from him.] Save me, Crichton – save me? [Rushes off.] Mask.   Again eluded me! Curses on my uncertain grasp! [Mask exits hastily after Genevra – a scream heard without.] Genevra.   (Without) Save me! Save me! Crichton enters hastily with his sword drawn – he gazes hurriedly around the Stage. Crichton.   Gone! Where is the Geloso! By my hopes, I would give all the laurels I have this day won to have effected that poor youth’s deliverance from his foes. ‘Tis plain from his cries, and his sudden disappearance, that he is placed in fearful jeopardy. [Shouts without of, “Long live the King!” “Honor to Crichton!”] Curses upon those bawling scholars! ‘Twere vain to pursue the quest amidst such a scene of confusion! [Music. Re-enter Scholars, Citizens, Females with Flowers, Archers of the Guards, Cross-bow Men, Doctors of Law, &c. D’Eperon, Joyeuse, Captain Larchant, Archers, &c. from all the entrances.] Mob.   The honored Crichton! [Flourish] Larchant. Noble Crichton – our King, the good Charles - Chicot.   [Peeping his head through the crowd.] Good for nothing! [Mob laughs.] D’Eperon.   Who spoke! Varlets! Chicot.   Folly – never heed it. Merely a word to the wise. Joyeuse.   Silence, knave! Your idle jesting pleases not me. Chicot.   I wonder what does. If a dish of new milk came within reach of your wise face, your very looks would turn it sour! [Chicot disappears.] Larchant.   His gracious majesty doth command your presence this night in the halls of the Louvre – there, midst the nobles of the land, and high born demoiselles, to do all the honor to the most renowned scholar and valiant knight, Admirable Crichton. [Mob shouts. Procession is formed. Girls strew flowers in Crichton’s path. Renewed shouts. Music. The Scene is closed in, the Mob crying out, “Long live the King, and honor to Crichton!”] SCENE TWO:   A street in Paris. House to the left, distant shouts. Enter Cosmo Ruggeris, the Astrologer, hastily. Ruggeris.   Spirit of Samhelte! Can this be! Cravanga’s dagger hath failed him: my rival in the paths of honor, lives. – [Shouts.] Those unwelcome sounds proclaim his triumph – Can I have been so long in error? Can the heavenly influences have so deceived their votary? The planets menace me with ill on this day – this hour is pregnant with calamity – within my path stands Crichton: he is the foe by who I am threatened. One of us must perish! A thick curtain hangs between me and the event. Curses on my imperfect skill which will enable me to see so far, and no further; yet I may still ward off that stroke. Music. Enter Genevra violently agitated, her hair disheveled – she runs towards Ruggeris. Genevra.   Save me, father, from my destroyer. [Clings to him.] Ruggeris. What mean you, boy? Genevra. I have not time to give utterance to my story – he is on my track. Protect me from his snares! Ruggeris.    Poor youth! Calm your fears! I will – I will! My dwelling will shield you from present danger – take sanctuary there. [Points to his house.] Genevra.   The Saints bless you, father! [Kisses his hand, and exits hurriedly into the house – her cap falls off.] Ruggeris.   (Starting) A woman! The Mask enters rapidly. Mask.   (Aside) The bird is snared! Be not alarmed – I am a friend! Ruggeris.   What assurance have I of that? Your speech, I own is fair – but your guise and deportment are not calculated to inspire confidence. Give me to behold your features, and I will tell you whether or not you are what you represent yourself. Mask.   You wrong me by your doubts, father. I repeat I am a friend. That I am well-known to you, you shall ample assurances presently: before we proceed, I pray you accept this purse as an earnest of my sincerity – it will give you a clearer insight into my character than even the display of my physiognomy. [Placing a purse in Ruggeris’ hand.] Ruggeris. You have said well, my son; this is a medium through which I clearly distinguish the false from the true friend. How can I assist you? Mask.   In a word. I love! Ruggeris. Ah! I understand. You love without requital? Mask.   You have said it. Ruggeris. And would subdue the heart of her for whom you sigh. She will be yours – I shall accomplish it. Mask.   Swear to me father, you will do this. Ruggeris.   By Osimanis! Give me the damsel’s name – her dwelling. Mask.   She is here – in your house. Ruggeris.   What! The youth – the - Mask.   Nay, I know all – plead not ignorance. I witnessed the discovery you made. Ruggeris.   And – and you love her? Mask.   Love her! Hear me. You, who are of that fiery land, need not be told with what fierceness we Italians love. With all the ardor of overwhelming passion I pursued this damsel – she was deaf to my prayers, my vows, my entreaties. In vain I used every blandishment, every artifice – all my efforts were ineffectual. For me she had no heart, no smile, no love – she hated me – fled my sight – her disappearance added to my torture – I was frantic! While plunged in despair, I received intelligence that she had flown to Paris – thither I repaired, traced her – saw through her disguise of the vagrant Gelose – haunted her like a shadow in the hope that chance would in the end befriend me. It has befriended me – the moment has arrived – she has fallen into your power: no further obstacle exists. She is mine! Ruggeris.   Take back your purse, signor. I cannot aid you in this matter. Mask. How! Have I not your oath? Ruggeris.   I knew not what I swore. Mask.   ‘Tis binding, nevertheless; that is, if aught be binding on a conscience supple as your own. What interest can you have in this maiden? Ruggeris.   The maiden is naught to me beyond the accidental discovery of her sex, and what you yourself have told me. I am wholly ignorant in all relating to her – but fate has given her my protection; and to violence like yours, I will never betray her. Shame to the gray hairs that deck my brows did I act otherwise! Take back your purse, signor, and trouble me no longer. [Casts the purse at his feet.] Mask.   Hoary hypocrite! Think not to impose upon one who knows thee well as do I, by thy vile pretense. Why should I stoop to solicit when I can command? A word from me – a look, a signal – and thou art plunged within a dungeon, stretched upon a wheel, whence not even Catherine’s mighty arm can accomplish thy deliverance! Ruggeris.   What if I still refuse compliance? Mask.   I denounce you of treasonable practices against the monarch beneath whose rule you live. Ruggeris.   (Starting) There lives but one who could thus accuse me, and – Mask.   Stands by your side! [Raises his mask.] Ruggeris.   The Prince of Mantua! [Bows low.] Command me – my life is at your disposal. Mask.   I need not the sacrifice. Deliver up the maiden – yet stay! I am unattended here. Convey her to a place of refuge. The famed Tower nigh the Hôtel de Soissons, whither alone her majesty Catherine de Medicis and yourself have access. There shall she remained concealed. Ruggeris.   Noble signor, I shall do your bidding. Mask.   See that you fail me not. Of all men living, Ruggeris, thou hast most cause of dread from me. I have most need of thee – therefore, thou art safe – but tremble if thou disobeyest me. [Music. The Mask exits, Ruggeris bows low and enters House.] SCENE THREE:   The spacious Salons of the Louvre. A Magnificent Suite of Apartments decorated for a Night Festival and Bal Masque. Music for opening of Scene. Groups of Dancers and Maskers cross at the upper part of the stage. Esclairmonde crosses, masked. Enter King Charles, Joyeuse, D’Eperon and Chicot. Charles.   (Regarding Esclairmonde) Joyeuse, can’t thou inform me whose lovely face lurks beneath yon violet mask - there, with the train of her majesty, my mother: thou see’st whom I mean? Joyeuse.   I do, sire. I own I am puzzled by this fair incognita. I will ascertain the point. [Esclairmonde disappears at back.] D’Eperon.   You appear elevated, sire. Are we to infer that the damsel may plume herself upon a royal conquest? Chicot.   The damsel hath already made another conquest upon which she has more reason to plume herself. Charles.   Ha! Thou art in the secret, I perceive. Who is the damsel? And which of my gentleman is her admirer? Chicot.   All I know may be told in a breath. Charles.   Her name? Esclairmonde, a Huguenot! [Charles shudders.] Chicot.   The favored attendant of the Queen Mother. Charles.   Our mother hath not used us well in neglecting to present the damsel to us. I have yet another question – have a care that thou answerest it not lightly. My rival’s name? [Advancing to Chicot.] Chicot.   [In a loud whisper.] Crichton de Clunis! Charles.   Crichton de Clunis! The peerless – the admirable! He were indeed a rival to be feared. Joyeuse, say to the Queen, our mother, that we would confer an instant with her, and add our request that her majesty will at the same time take an opportunity of presenting the demoiselle Esclairmonde. [Joyeuse bows and exits.] In affairs of gallantry we shall see whether even Crichton de Clunis can cope with Charles de Valois. Chicot.   The King’s resolved to change places with me, and make a fool of himself. [Aside.] Re-enter Joyeuse. Joyeuse.   Her majesty, Queen Catherine de Medicis and the demoiselle Esclairmonde! Music. Enter Catherine, Esclairmonde and Ladies of the Court. The King bows to Catherine and approaches Esclairmonde – Catherine joins the Courtiers, who are slowly retiring. Charles.   By Cupidon! Belle Esclairmonde. [Taking her hand.] We are half disposed to charge our mother with lege majeste, in having so long denied us the gratification we now experience in welcoming to our court the loveliest of guests. Esclairmonde. Your Majesty attaches more importance to the circumstance than it merits. Charles.   In faith, not so, fair demoiselle; beauty ever has a claim upon our attention. You will not refuse me your hand at the banquet? Esclairmonde.   Sire, my hand is at your disposal. Charles.   But not your heart? Chicot.   [Aside.] I hope not, poor maid! [Retires to back.] Esclairmonde.   My heart is not my own – it is devoted to another. Charles.   Mort Dieu! You avow it – you love? Esclairmonde.   I said not so, Sire. My destiny is a cloister! Charles.   (Smiling) Is that all? A cloister! No, no, this must never be! Esclairmonde.   Your Majesty will not oppose heaven’s inclinations. Charles.   I will not oppose my own. No monastery shall control so fair a Saint as thou while I can hinder it. When your path is strewn with flowers, and when all the chivalry of France with their monarch at their head, are eager to contend for your smiles. Esclairmonde.   My life, my destiny, is at your disposal: but seek not my heart, Sire, which is neither mine to bestow nor yours to solicit. Charles.   If not your own, to whose keeping have you entrusted the precious prize – nay, you need not answer – I will reply for you. Crichton de Clunis! Are we wrong? Esclairmonde.   Sire! (Trembling) Charles.   Nay, tremble not, child – I betray no confidence – but beware our lady sister – she loves Crichton, too. Marguerite de Valois, la belle Margot, will never brook a rival; and can you suffer him you love to be the slave, the minion of another? Esclairmonde.   I knew it not. And does he – does signor Crichton aspire to her affections? Charles.   He has deceived you! Revenge is in your power – the game is in your hands: play off a king against his queen! Love me! Esclairmonde.   Your Majesty will excuse my answering that question. Charles. (Haughtily) As you please. This is neither time nor place to enforce a reply. Now, mark me – as yet I have approached you as a humble suitor, desirous, in that capacity, to win your regard. I now resume the king, and will remind you that you are my subject – that your life, your liberty, your person are at my disposal. If my measures appear harsh, you must thank your own perversity. Obedience is all I require. On the one hand you will weigh my favor, my protection, my love – on the other, Crichton, infidelity, a cloister, perchance a darker doom. Make your own election. After the banquet I shall expect your answer. Resume your mask, and maintain your composure. Not a word of our converse to Crichton, when he appears at our revels. [Esclairmonde resumes her mask. Chicot re-enters, approaches the King and whispers to him.] Chicot.   News – rare news, gossip! Chicot.   That which you own little of – honesty, and a love of truth. News – rare news! Charles.   Good or bad? Chicot.   Bad to you – good to your partner. Charles.   Bah! This jesting is ill-timed. Chicot.   Then it is in keeping with your Majesty’s love making - Charles.   Be silent, sirrah! Or say what brings you hither. Chicot.   The Scot has arrived – Crichton the Admirable. I took the precaution to warn your Majesty of his approach, as I would a friend of a jealous husband’s return. Esclairmonde.   (Aside) He is here! May I crave your permission to retire, Sire? Charles.   By no means. We would not deprive you of the pleasure of witnessing our interview with this phoenix of school men. Admit him to our presence. [Exit Chicot.] Messeigneurs, approach! [All the Courtiers advance – Catherine and her Ladies come forward.] The victor of the school is at hand. Joyeuse, bid her Majesty of Navarre attend upon us. [Exit Joyeuse.] We would welcome the Admirable Crichton as a king should welcome him! [Seats himself on throne.] Flourish. Crichton appears at the back – Chicot following. Marguerite appears immediately after. Crichton bows low to the King. Charles.   Welcome, seigneur Crichton, to the halls of the Louvre. It is not often it falls to a king’s lot to number a scholar amongst his courtiers. By our Lady! We are envious of your high merit, and must dub thee our true knight. Crichton.   Sire, your favor overwhelms - Charles.   Tut! Our conduct after all may not be so disinterested as at first sight it would appear. We may require a service at your hands. Crichton.   You have but to name it, Sire, and I swear by St. Andrew, it is yours! Charles.   We may ask too much Crichton.   Ask my life – ‘tis yours, Sire. Charles.   We may ask more. Chicot. That’s modest! Crichton.   Your Majesty can ask nothing that I will not attempt. Charles.   Nothing you will refuse? Crichton.   Nothing, by my sword. Chicot.   Bid him swallow it, Sire. Ha! Charles.   Enough. We are content. We will no longer detain our guests. This audience must be dull work to them. [Music. Maskers, Lords, Ladies, Charles, Crichton, Esclairmonde and all promenade and then exit at different entrances except Chicot. Catherine de Medicis, with Ruggeris, enters at the back and comes forward.] Chicot.   (Perceiving their approach) There’s mischief hatching – a woman and a conjuror – they only want the Devil to make the thing complete. I’ll play the eavesdropper – Folly ever loves mischief. [Conceals himself to listen.] Catherine.   And this Venetian beggar-girl – this Gelose, is in your custody – close prisoner in the tower? ‘Tis well – keep her there; her captivity may serve us with the haughty Mantua, and bind him more firmly to us. Knows the Scot aught of her concealment? Ruggeris.   No, your Majesty. Chicot.   [Aside and peeping.] But he soon shall your Majesty. Ruggeris.   Or of her true sex? He still believes his deliverer from the assassin’s hand, a boy? Chicot.   Does he? Then he sha’n’t think so long, Master Greybeard. Catherine. Should he discover it, and seek by his presumption to thwart our measures, we must find means to remove him. Chicot.   To the grave! A dagger or a rope! Catherine.   We will be prepared for every mischance. Gives me the phial thou hast ever with thee. Chicot.   (Aside.) Poison – ugh! [Shudders.] Ruggeris.   This would speedily quiet him! [Gives the phial.] Chicot.   I would think it would. Catherine.   Now, give me the key of thy inner chamber in the Turret. I must see the Mask tonight, and instruct him how to come hither unperceived by the subterranean passage from the Hôtel de Soissons. Ruggeris.   The key is here. [Gives key.] Your Highness’ commands shall be obeyed. [Catherine beckons Ruggeris and they exit at back in conference.] Chicot.    Advancing) And your devilish schemes circumvented! Now to apprise Crichton of his danger. And the boy’s a girl. Oh, why didn’t I find it out before? Fool! Fool! [Exit at the back.] Re-enter Charles and Esclairmonde, hastily. Charles.   Nay, demoiselle – I will not have thee quit my sight. Crichton is approaching and see who accompanies the scholar – Margot! You shall now be satisfied of your lover’s perfidy! [Leads her behind a screen.] Escape is now impossible! [Conceals himelf and Esclairmonde.] Enter Crichton and Margot at the back in converse; they come forward. Margot.   Crichton! Mon beau chevalier! Why are you silent? Here alone together, away from the prying assemblage – this reserve is needless. Crichton.   How can I repay this devotion? I am unworthy of this solitude. Charles. [Aside to Esclairmonde.] Do you note their looks? Esclairmonde.   I do, I do! Margot.   You no longer love. Do I have a rival, Crichton? Oh, if I have, let her avoid my presence. Crichton.   Calm yourself – banish these idle fantasies. Margot.   Are they fancies – are they idle? Call to mind your attentions to the demoiselle Esclairmonde. She is at the fête to-night. Crichton.   I did not observe her. Margot.   She was at no great distance from you. Crichton.   With the Queen, your mother? Margot.   No, with the King, my brother. Crichton.   With him – the violet mask! Margot.   You have guessed shrewdly. Crichton.   And she remained with the King when he quitted the Grand Salon? Margot. She did remain with him; since she tendered her hand to the King, he has never quitted it. He has already made no inconsiderable progress in her affection. Charles loves her! Crichton.   Marguerite, I implore of you to return to the banquet. Margot.   (Angrily) Crichton, you love this girl. Crichton.   I would save her from dishonor – have pity on her youth, her innocence – she is unfriended – alone! Be to her a preserver! You know what Charles’s love is – that he spares naught to gratify his desires. Save her – save her! [Esclairmonde screams and rushes forward to Crichton, followed by Charles.] Esclairmonde.   To your protection I commit myself. I am yours forever! I tremble no longer to avow my love! Crichton.   And with my life I defend you! [Clasping her to his heart.] Charles.   Chevalier Crichton, we thank you for your good opinion of ourselves. We thank you also for your kind intentions in respect to Esclairmonde, the which she holds entirely needless. Need we remind you of your voluntary proffer of obedience to our wishes. You’ve sworn upon your sword to refuse us nothing. Crichton.   What; what do you demand, Sire? Charles.   Possession of this damsel. Esclairmonde.   No, no – kill me rather than yield me to him. Charles.   (Coldly) I have his word. Crichton.   He has – he has? Take back your honors, Sire, if they are to be bought by this sacrifice! Take my life, but do not extort the fulfillment of a rash promise. Esclairmonde.   Your word is past – you cannot protect me. Crichton.   My arm is paralyzed! Charles.   (Crosses to Esclairmonde and goes up center with her.) Chevalier Crichton, we are really sorry for your disappointment – your situation is mortifying; but give yourself no further uneasiness. We will answer for the lady’s safety. Crichton.   Will you answer for her honor, Sire? Charles.   (Coughs) Hem! [Turns away with Esclairmonde and Marguerite – he sits on throne – Esclairmonde and Marguerite sit on each side of him.] Chicot.   I see it has turned out precisely as I anticipated. No good ever comes of making love to two women at the same time. [Approaches Crichton and whispers.] Listen, take a fool’s advice. [Chicot and Crichton whisper apart.] Re-enter Catherine with Ruggeris and all the Courtiers – Catherine and Ruggeris come forward. Catherine.   Daughter, we have sought you throughout the Grand Salon. Why do we find you here, and thus attended? [To Ruggeris.] You have our leave to depart. [Ruggeris bows, and is leaving, when Crichton stands forward.] Crichton.   Hold! Before you quit his Majesty’s presence, I proclaim you traitor and base betrayer of female innocence! Charles   What mean you? Crichton   I have certain information that he has cruelly betrayed a helpless maiden – who in boy’s attire this day saved my life – into the power of her enemy. Nay, frown not, Madame – she is now his prisoner in the Turret Tower. I demand her at his hands. [Touches his sword.] Catherine.   Now, by our Lady, this insolence passeth all endurance! Ruggeris is innocent of this charge. Ruggeris.   Give me time and I will satisfy your Majesty. Crichton.   Would I could confront you with the same mask – he that aided you in this treachery. Would he were here. The Mask at this moment enters at back. Mask.   He is here! Charles. As we live, our mask in person. Chicot.   (Aside) Talk of the Devil, and - Mask.   The charge you have brought against Ruggeris is false, unfounded and malicious: and on avowing it to be such, I here defy you. [Casting down his gauntlet.] King of France. [Kneeling.] I beseech you to grant me the right of combat as Ruggeris’ voluntary champion against this Scot. Catherine.   You cannot refuse the appeal. Crichton.   I accept your challenge; and I counsel you, sir, not to throw aside your mask when you draw your blade in a cause so infamous. [Casts down his glove.] Charles.   Bravely spoken! Let the combat take place in two days from this, at noon, within the Hall of Arms, where ourselves and our immediate followers will attend. And now, seigneur, suffer me to say – [Turning to the Mask] – Mort Dieu! Vanished! [The Mask has disappeared.] Bend thy knee, chevalier. [To Crichton] You shall wear your spurs ‘ere you enter the lists. From our hands receive the honor of knighthood. [Aside to him.] This will atone to thee for the loss of thy mistress. [Aloud.] In the name of our lord and patron Saint Denis, we create thee Crichton, Knight Commander of the Ancient Order of Saint Esprit! [Crichton kneels – Charles places a collar of jewels on his neck, which he removes from his own, and strikes him with his sword twice on the shoulder. Grand Flourish.] Charles.   And now to our revels. [The Cotillion is performed by the Characters, at the end of which the Act Drop descends.] END OF ACT ONE.    Text Copyright © 1999 - 2005 cybersybils.com All rights reserved.