ACT TWO SCENE ONE:   The Pavilion, richly ornamented and emblazoned. Armor scattered about Scene. Gilded Couch, and covered Table. Crichton discovered reclining on Couch – Pages attending preparing arms – Sentinel pacing at the back. Crichton.   Let my arms be well furbished for the field. By Saint Andrew, this felon-mask will bite the dust. The wrongs of Genevra will nerve my arm to the deed. [A trumpet sounds.] See who waits. [A Page exits.] Beloved Esclairmonde, why does my rash vow keep me from you? Re-enter Page. Page.   Her Majesty, the Queen Catherine. Flourish. Enter a body of Guards and Ladies, then the regal Catherine de Medicis. Catherine.   [Waving her hand to Attendants.] Leave us! [They retire.] Our presence occasions you suprise, we perceive – nor will it be diminished when you learn the motive that brought us hither. You have nothing to apprehend from us: we pledge our royal word that we come hither to confer in amity. [Crichton bows.] We understand each other. Crichton.   We do, Madame! Catherine.   Why should we not act in unison when our interests require it? Valor, it seems, is your inheritance. We rejoice to learn that you are of regal blood – a descendant of John the Bold of Buchan. Why should you not tread in his steps? Why should not your hand grasp the marshal’s baton? Why should not the hand of a princess – why should not the lovely Esclairmonde, Princess of Condé, be yours? Crichton.   No more I pray thee, Madame – tempt me not! Even in my wildest dreams my aspirations never soared so high! A Marshal of France! Catherine.   Her leader – her legions beneath your command. Crichton.   Her legions? By Saint Andrew, I see them rise round me. I see her fierce and fiery bands pour like a tide upon the plain. I see her Chivalry which the chevalier Bayard led – I hear their battle cry! Catherine. The baton of France, the hand of Esclairmonde, Princess of Condé, for such she really is, are yours on certain conditions. Crichton.   Name them! Name them! Catherine.   Pledge me your knightly word that whether or not you accept the terms we are about to propose, your lips will reveal no syllable we may utter. Have we your word? Crichton.   You have. Your conditions are - Catherine.   The dethronement of Charles, and the placing of his crown on my youngest son, the Duc d’Anjou’s head. Crichton.   Good heaven! Catherine. Anjou is now in Paris – all goes well for us. We have the gold of Spain, the swords of Switzerland and Scotland, for the guards are ours, and but await the signal to declare themselves – that signal will be given to-night. Crichton.   And Charles? What of the King, your son- Catherine.   He must die! The safety of France requires it! He refuses to follow his councils, to acknowledge Queen Catherine’s supremacy. The Valois rule through me – if not through Charles then we must through Anjou! Crichton.   Can a mother say this? Catherine.   Hear me. By midnight all will be in readiness. Ere that hour arrives, the leaders of Anjou’s faction will be in the Louvre, they will deal with Joyeuse, D’Eperon and Saint Luc – the Duc de Nevers is ours already. Charles alone remains and he - Crichton.   Well, Madame! Catherine.   Is reserved for your hand. Crichton.   (Starting) For mine! Catherine.   Cry out: Live Henri, the Third! And strike. We know too well the force of your arm to doubt the fatal issue of the blow. That cry – that deadly stroke, will be the signal to Anjou and our party – Charles’ adherents will be exterminated, and his crown will be his brother’s. Crichton.   Think you I am an assassin? Catherine.   If I propose a dark deed, then I also offer proportionate reward. Here is your appointment, signed by Anjou’s hand. Crichton.   It bears no date. Catherine.   It will be ratified to-night. [Placing it on the table.] Behold the royal signet! Behold your title as Marshal of France! Your answer? Crichton.   Is this. [Cutting it into pieces with his poignard.] Thus I trample on the price of my dishonor! Catherine.   Braggart! You shall learn anon whose wrath you have provoked! Crichton. Threat for threat, Madame: in me you may find a formidable enemy. Catherine.   You dare not betray our confidence. Your knightly word is passed. Crichton.   It is: my lips are sealed. Catherine.   See that you keep your word. Remember I am an inexorable enemy, and as unalterable a friend. A word ere we part. Charles loves Esclairmonde – in him you have a rival, recall? Crichton.   ‘Tis well known to me. Catherine.   To-night she is his, or yours - Crichton.   His she will never be! Catherine.   Then you would be wise to accept my terms. Once more. Your answer. Crichton.   It shall be delivered at the Jousts. Catherine.   Farewell, Sir Scot! After the tourney we shall expect you in the Royal Gallery to hail Anjou as King! Be resolute. Glory and the Queen of Beauty is the prize! [Exits.] Crichton.   Murder her own son! Cruel, unfeeling woman! How shall I counteract her vile plot! Ruggeris, the Astrologer – not a moment is to be lost in idle conjecture. I’ll to the Hôtel de Soissons and pay the Floretine a call. By Saint Andrew, I’ll save King Charles and win his favor or else perish!?center> [Crichton exits rapidly followed by Page – Chicot the Jester slowly raises the cloth on the table and peeps from beneath.] Chicot.   I’m almost tired of listening. Pretty revelations I have heard. A conspiracy! Kill the King will she! Not while I wear a sword. [Draws a wooden one.] It would be a praiseworthy act to put Madame Catherine out of the way. What is to be done? I am sorely perplexed. If I tell my story who will believe my tale? I shall be laughed at, scoffed and cuffed; and perhaps for getting in the way, be put out of the way myself – the common fate of meddlers. I have it. Instead of doing, I’ll do nothing but abide the issue of the tournament, then confer with the Scot, whom heaven send scot free from this she-wolf of France. [Exit.] SCENE TWO:   A Handsome Apartment in the King’s Closet in the Louvre. Door in Flat. A candelabra behind the Door. Music. Enter Joyeuse and D’Eperon, laughing. Joyeuse.   The King is more deeply smitten than ever! He is most constant in his pursuit of the fair Esclairmonde; whilst the poor damsel shrinks from his royal gaze like the stricken deer from the hunter’s barb. D’Eperon.   This new armor usurps even the glories of the coming tourney in Charles’ thoughts. Every moment is devoted to this demoiselle. Joyeuse.   A new toy, my lord – a new toy! Once possessed, it soon becomes worthless.   The Queen Mother awaits us. We must attend her pleasure in the oratory. [Exit.] Chicot peeps on. Chicot.   Nobody here? Or nothing? [Advances on stage.] No! [Gazes about Apartment.] For I am nobody, and nobody’s nothing. What a guardian of public morals I am – the protector of female virtue! I came here to serve the King, but now, by my cap and bells, I’ll serve him out, for his wicked pursuit of the fair Esclairmonde. I saw her endeavoring to escape his attentions as I came hither. She fled towards this closet, which I reached first, by a secret staircase. I know Charles’ superstitious mind. He is credulous as brave, and lives in constant terrors of the powers of darkness. To save the damsel, I’ll conjure up the spirits of the deep – and to save him from, I’ll play the Devil with him! [Conceals himself at Wing.] Music. Esclairmonde enters hurriedly. Esclairmonde.   I have at length eluded the persecuting attentions of the King. Crichton, why does your rash promise leave me thus unprotected? I cannot endure it! I will quit this palace – this city, on the morrow. One tie alone can detain me, if I am free from this baleful bondage, and that is - Enter Charles. Charles.   Why do you ever seek to avoid our presence, ma belle? We ourselves intend to break a lance on your behalf at the tournament, and there appoint you Queen of the Lists – the peerless Queen of Beauty! Yes, we ourselves will enter the barriers, which we will have appointed with more than usual magnificence. Esclairmonde.   Permit me to rejoin the suite of her Majesty, the Queen - Charles.   Nay, fair demoiselle, by our crown, we are peremptory! You must give ear to our humble suit for a time! We take no refusal. I love you – you must remain with me. [He struggles with her – she endeavors to gain the door – as she approaches, Chicot appears and extinguishes the light – the Stage becomes quite dark – she escapes. Chicot comes out, and comes to corner.] Diable! The lights extinguished! She may elude me after all! Chicot.   Where kings play the fool, ‘tis time for fools to play the king. Charles.   The doors are closed! Chicot.   [In a gruff, solemn voice.] Charles de Valois! Charles.   (Trembling violently) Those are not the tones of Esclairmonde! Chicot. You must reform – you are a sinner! Charles.   I was born in sin - Chicot.   I know it – or the memory of Fernelius hath been scandalously calumniated. I am his spirit, sent to torment you. Oh! Charles.   Fernelius! Unhappy being! I will have masses said for thee, so thou wilt no more perplex me. Chicot.   Thou must do more. Charles.   I will do anything. Chicot.   Cherish thy jester, Chicot. Charles.   I will – as my brother! Chicot.   No! Not as they brother – as thyself! [Groans.] Or - Charles.   I will. Chicot.   Deny him nothing- let him have everything he asks for. Charles.   I will! Chicot.   And more, if he wants it! Give up the virtuous Esclairmonde, or – [Groans.] Charles.   Never! Sooner that, I will incur – [Chicot coughs and laughs] Ha! Diable! A ghost indulge in merriment? This is some trick? Chicot.   (Aside) I know it! [Crouches in one corner of Stage, covering himself with a cloak – one leg left exposed.] Charles.   Who is it? Speak, I charge you! Ha – have we traitors here? This is no ghost – no Fernelius! What ho – lights, lights! Joyeuse, D’Eperon and Attendants rush on. Joyeuse.   Your Majesty - Charles.   We have been duped – deceived! Some cozening knave hath dared to affright our ears, and put our courage in grievous jeopardy. D’Eperon.   No one could have passed the closet – the doors are fast. Joyeuse.   [Dragging forth Chicot by the leg.] Here, Sire – here he is. Chicot.   Doctor Fernelius – pardon, pardon! Charles.   Thou, Fernelius? Chicot.   The same. You promised the worthy doctor to cherish me as yourself. Charles.   We are half disposed to send thee to keep Fernelius company. D’Eperon, bid the Chevalier Crichton attend our pleasure in the royal cabinet. [Aside.] We shall have no opportunity of encountering Esclairmonde. We would confer of the coming tourney. Chicot.   Crichton, gossip, hath quitted his pavilion and is by this time studying the stars with that professor, Ruggeris. There’ll be rare work, and he be not interrupted. Charles.   Joyeuse, go with thy followers to the Hôtel de Soissons, and if thou encounterest this wayward Crichton or his antagonist, our sable Mask, within its walls place both under arrest till after the tourney. Should they meet, this mad brained Scot will spoil all by his impetuosity. Chicot.   True – and there’ll be throat cutting before the time. Charles.   To horse! Lose not a moment on the way. [Music. All exit but Charles and Chicot, who are following.] Chicot.   Your gracious Majesty - Charles.   Well, coquin? Chicot.   Don’t forget – [in a grave tone] – the doctor! [Exit after Charles, laughing.] SCENE THREE:   The Hôtel de Soissons. Enter the Prince of Mantua and Andreani. Mantua.   See that my armor (pacing the Stage rapidly) be prepared for the lists – my Milan corslet and cosque, and bring me a bowl of wine. Would that this Scot, this Crichton’s life, was at my disposal – I would stab him to the heart, for ‘tis too evident that Genevra loves him. Where is the girl? Andreani.   In the Turret chamber, my lord – she sleeps soundly. I took this poignard from her bosom: the bee is now without its sting. [Shews a small poignard.] Mantua.   Await my return within this chamber, and on your life let none approach, more especially this Ruggeris, whom I am now expecting. [Exit, Andreani bars the door on Stage.] Andreani.   (Coming forward.) I have done good service to the noble, and may count on rich reward. Love is ever the key to the rich man’s purse. [A knock.] Ruggeris.   (Without) I would see the Prince Mantua! Andreani.   Diavolo! The old astrologer. [Opens door, Ruggeris enters hastily.] Ruggeris.   Where is the Prince? Is he not here? Conduct me to him – my errand is of life and death, and will not brook delay! Andreani.   His Highness cannot be spoken with this moment. Ruggeris.   And wherefore not? Andreani.   Because he is – [Genevra screams without.] Ruggeris.   That cry! Andreani.   (Smiling) Is the Gelose. Ruggeris.   Death! Dishonor! Why conceal this from me? I might have lent her aid! Andreani.   You? Ruggeris.   Yes, I – her father. She is my long lost child – this precious token, [Shews a small miniature] left in my dwelling, reveals the secret of her birth. I entreat you, lead me to her. Andreani.   It is too late. Ruggeris.   Not to avenge her. [Rushing to the door.] My child! My child! I am near thee. I will help – avenge thee! [Endeavors to reach door.] Andreani   [Placing himself before the door and drawing his sword.] Back – back, old man! You must not enter here! Ruggeris.   Can you, will you keep a father from his child, and that chills in a libertine’s power? Let me pass. Andreani.   Never! I must perform my duty. Ruggeris.   Man, man, what is your duty to heaven? I will have my child! Music – he rushes towards Andreani, who throws him off and raises to strike him as he falls – Crichton rushes in and receives the blade on his sword. Crichton.   Shame, shame! Would you strike gray hairs? [Andreani rushes off.] By Saint Andrew this is fortunate I came to seek for you. Up and attend me to the Louvre. Ruggeris.   I will readily attend you, even to the stake, if you will first aid me to deliver the hapless maiden who saved your life, from worse than death: dishonor! Crichton.   Genevra – what of her? Wretch, hast thou betrayed her to infamy? Where is she? Ruggeris.   In that chamber. Crichton.   Ha! Follow me! Ruggeris.   The doors are firmly barred! Crichton.   Each moment is fraught with danger! [A scream is heard without.] Assist me! [Batters at door.] I cannot burst it, the door is of iron strength. Give me thy poignard – quick, quick! Music – Crichton wrenches the door open with the poignard – Genevra rushes out – her dress disordered – hair disheveled. Genevra.   Save me! Save me! [Rushes to Crichton and falls on his neck.] Crichton.   Fear nothing, Genevra, I am by your side. Ruggeris.   You are in safety, my child – no further ill can befall you. [Genevra shudders ad looks wildly around.] Speak to me! Alas! Her senses are gone! Genevra.   No, no, I am not mad – would I were so: misery like mine finds no refuge in madness. I know thee well, you promised to protect me, and cruelly gave me up to the ruthless Mantua. Ruggeris.   I am thy father, Genevra! Genevra.   Thou? Then have you brought me to shame. No, no, you are not my father – it cannot be! Ruggeris.   My child! My child! Genevra.   If you are my father, set me free. Stab me, Crichton – I loved thee without hope – now, ‘tis bliss to die in thy arms! Crichton.   Sweet girl, in me you will ever find a brother. Genevra.   (Wildly.) Let us go – let us quit this place. Ruggeris.   Whither would’st thou go? Thou hast no friends on Earth save thy father. Genevra.   (Faintly.) ‘Tis false! I have one here, here – he will not abandon me. You are leagued with that remorseless prince. [To Crichton.] Do not abandon me again. Crichton.   Genevra, Mantua shall bitterly atone to me for your injuries – his blood shall wash out the wrong he hath done you: this good sword will redress you. Ruggeris.   And I shall to the Louvre – to the King! I shall reveal all to him, and make such revelations as will assure the downfall of Catherine, and this accursed wretch! Doubt me not, seigneur. I have my child to avenge. I will terribly avenge her! Andreani rushes on with guards. Andreani.   Ha! Chevalier advance! I demand the restitution of that maiden! Crichton.   Ha! I charge you, men, in the King’s name, to lay down your arms. Andreani.   In Queen Catherine’s name, stand firm! Music – momentary scuffle – Genevra is stabbed accidentally by Andreani, and falls – instantaneous pause. Genevra.   Crichton! [Dies while breathing his name.] Crichton.   She is dead! Back, murderous dogs! Aid me, Ruggeris! [Rushing towards Andreani.] Ruggeris.   It is I vain – I have lost my child, yet I shall help you to vengeance. To the Louvre! To the Louvre! [As he is rushing off, the Scene closes on the picture.] SCENE FOUR:   The Cabinet of the King. Enter Catherine and Mantua, Armed for the Lists, in conversation. Catherine.   And he dared to use threats towards us, my lord? Mantua.   Even so, your Majesty. Ruggeris fled from the hôtel, seeking Crichton’s presence in the Louvre, and breathing vengeance. I came hither with lightning’s speed to warn you. Catherine.   This meeting must be prevented, lest the fool’s babbling spoil our plan. Difficulties already rise to stay its fulfillment, without this dog’s interference. Anjou relents and has quitted the palace without striking a blow. Apprehensive of discovery, he fled. Mantua.   Then, is our plot defeated? Catherine.   Not utterly. What Anjou dared not do, I shall execute, alone. Mantua.   You, Madame? Catherine.   Yes, failing in my attempts upon the honesty of our incorruptible Scot, I have found a hand as sure as his, and less reluctant: your attendant, Andreani. Hold your partisans in readiness. Crichton dies within this very hour. Mantua.   And the signal? Catherine.   When I quit this chamber, Andreani will strike. Crichton approaches, we must separate – be vigilant. Mantua exits as Crichton enters. Charles.   We cry your mercy, mother, for this intrusion, but why does our cousin of Mantua avoid our presence? We would speak to him of his captive, the Geloso. Catherine.   He is busied in preparations for the joust, son. How is it you have withdrawn from the chivalrous spectacle to which you looked forward with so much pleasure? Charles.   Par la mort Dieu, Madame! The tiltyard is not the theatre for our display. The lists are unlucky to our race: we remember our father’s fate, and shall in future avoid the lance. Catherine.   (Aside) Has the Scot dared betray us? We will await your majesty’s presence in the hall of arms. [As she exits, she exchanges signals with Andreani, who partially emerges from his concealment, muffed in a large mantle.] Charles.   We shall attend shortly. Had we entertained doubts as to the origin of the fair princess of Condé, la belle Esclairmonde, the spirit she thus evinced in rejecting our advances would convince us of the Bourbon blood current in her veins. [During Charles’s speech, Andreani slowly advances towards him with a drawn dagger; he raises his arm to strike Charles.] Andreani.   This to thy heart, tyrant! [Crichton rushes on, seizes Andreani’s hand, and wrests te poignard from him. Charles draws his sword.] Crichton.   Help! Help! The King’s life is in danger! Dog, this sword will reward your treason. [Joyeuse, D’Eperon, Larchant and Archers enter rapidly at back, with drawn swords.] All.   Stay him, cut him down. [They rush towards Andreani.] Charles.   Hold! I am unhurt, messieurs. We would question this knave. Speak, dog: who prompted you to seek my life? Andreani.   The Prince Mantua, and her Majesty, your mother. [Gloomily.] Charles.   By St. Denis, we owe our thanks to our loving mother, and will seek to repay her kindness. The rack will speak our gratitude to the noble prince. Larchant, see that this varlet be securely guarded. We shall examine him in council. Remove him from our sight. [Larchant and Archers remove Andreani. Tumpets sound without.] Enter Chicot. Chicot.   The tourney awaits your Majesty. The lances are in rest, the swords sharpened, horses anxious, and knights eager for head-breaking. Charles.   We come. (To attendants) Not a word of this attempt, my lords. Crichton, we owe you much – the Queen of Beauty will speak our thanks. On to the lists. [Charles exits hastily with Crichton and the nobles.] Chicot.   Huzza! For honor and glory! Cracked heads and broken crowns. SCENE FIVE: The Lists and Barriers of the Louvre, prepared for a grand passage of Arms and Tournament, richly decorated with Trophies, Armorial Bearings, Gilded Pavilions, occupying the whole of the Stage. A Flourish of Trumpets, shouts of the Populace. The Procession enters from a raised platform, they march around the Stage, and then form on each side. The Ladies of the Court, after having gone round in procession, retire to the back and seat themselves in a gallery prepared for them. The Knights in Armor stand on the steps leading to the same. Crichton.   By Saint Andrew! (To Mantua) I will approve with my body against your body – the justice of my quarrel: the murdered Genevra cries to me vengeance. Mantua.   Enough! By Saint Peter, I charge you look to yourself. [They cross their swords – trumpets sound.] Charles.   Hold! Chevalier Crichton, we owe too much you to suffer your life thus rashly to be exposed. Count Joyeuse, arrest Mantua, our cousin of the mask, whom we accuse of treason, and an attempt to subvert our throne. [Joyeuse and Guards seize Mantua.] Madame, our royal mother, you will also answer to us on the same charge. Catherine.   At once, and boldly, my son! (Advancing) You are deceived. The sole traitor stands by your side. I will prove Crichton guilty of the crimes you have imputed to me. Charles.   Shall we summon your bravo, Andreani, to support your words – we know you, Madame. Let Cosmo Ruggeris stand forth. [Ruggeris enters the lists, guarded.] Catherine.   (Starting) What hast thou to advance against me? Ruggeris.   That you conspired against the life of the King, your son, and against his crown; and that Mantua is your accomplice. Regard this scroll, your Majesty. [Gives scroll.] Charles.   (Reading scroll) This is thine own condemnation! Ruggeris, thou art deeply implicated in this conspiracy against me. Ruggeris.   I deny it not. Let equal Justice be dealt upon all who have betrayed you. Charles.   Your doom will be the galleys. For you, Madame, we give you leave of absence from the Court – go to Chaumont and await our pleasure. Prince of Mantua, your head will pay the forfeit of your cimes! Ruggeris.   Be the task mine – the felon shall fall by my hands! [Breaks suddenly from Guards and stabs Mantua, who falls.] Genevra, my sweet child, thou art avenged! [Guards seize Ruggeris.] Charles.   Away with him. Chevalier Crichton, you are my preserver, and henceforth my brother. Crichton.   Sire! [kissing his hand.] Charles.   I have played the tyrant and the libertine long enough. I will now endeavor to assume the part of a generous monarch. The hand of Esclairmonde, is yours – the lovely Queen of Beauty a befitting reward for Crichton the Admirable, the Mirror of Chivalry! Charles IX joins the hands of Esclairmonde and Crichton – grand flourish – Curtain. THE END Should any group or organization wish to stage this production, the play is in the public domain - we'd just like to hear about your rave reviews!    Text Copyright © 1999 - 2005 cybersybils.com All rights reserved.