Of your own character: he acted you—
Ne'er for an instant did I think it real,
Or look for any other than this end.

I hold him worlds the worse on that account;
But so it was.

Cha. [to POLYX.] I love you, now, indeed! [To VICTOR.] You never knew me!

Hardly till this moment,

Vic.
When I seem learning many other things,
Because the time for using them is past.
If 'twere to do again! That's idly wished.
Truthfulness might prove policy as good

As guile. Is this my daughter's forehead ?-Yes-
I've made it fitter now to be a Queen's

Than formerly-I've ploughed the deep lines there
Which keep too well a crown from slipping off!
No matter. Guile has made me King again.
Louis 'twas in King Victor's time-long since,
When Louis reign'd-and, also, Victor reign'd-
How the world talks already of us two!
God of eclipse and each discolour'd star,
Why do I linger then?

Ha! Where lurks he?

D'Ormea! Come nearer to your King! Now stand!

[Collecting his strength as D'ORMEA approaches.

But you lied, D'Ormea! I do not repent.

[Dies

COLOMBE'S BIRTHDAY.

A Play.

"Ivy and violet, what do ye here,

"With blossom and shoot in the warm spring-weather,

"Hiding the arms of Monchenci and Vere?""

HANMER.

Dedication,

NO ONE LOVES AND HONOURS BARRY CORNWALL MORE THAN ROBERT BROWNING DOES;

WHO, HAVING NOTHING BETTER THAN THIS PLAY TO

GIVE HIM IN PROOF OF IT,

MUST SAY SO.

VALENCE, Advocate of Cleves.

PRINCE BERTHOLD, Claimant of the Duchy.

MELCHIOR, his Confidant.

PLACE, The Palace at Juliers.

TIME, 16

АСТ І.

Morning. SCENE.-A corridor leading to the Audience-Chamber. GAUCELME, CLUGNET, MAUFROY, and other Courtiers round GUI. BERT, who is silently reading a paper: as he drops it at the endGui. That this should be her birthday; and the day We all invested her, twelve months ago,

As the late Duke's true heiress and our liege;

And that this also must become the day...
Oh, miserable lady!

1st Court. Ay, indeed?

2d Court. Well, Guibert?

3d Court. But your news, my friend, your news!

The sooner, friend, one learns Prince Berthold's pleasure, The better for us all: how writes the Prince?

Give me I'll read it for the common good

Gui. In time, sir-but, till time comes, pardon me! Our old Duke just disclosed his child's retreat, Declared her true succession to his rule,

And died this birthday was the day, last year,
We convoyed her from Castle Ravestein-

That sleeps out trustfully its extreme age

On the Meuse's quiet bank, where she lived queen
Over the water-buds,-to Juliers' Court

With joy and bustle: here again we stand;
Sir Gaucelme's buckle's constant to his cap-
To-day's much such another sunny day!

Gau. Come, Guibert-this outgrows a jest, I think! You're hardly such a novice as to need

The lesson, you pretend.

Gui.

What lesson, sir?

That everybody, if he'd thrive at court,

Should, first and last of all, look to himself?

Why, no and therefore, with your good example,
-Ho, Master Adolf!)-to myself I'll look.

Enter ADOLF.

Gui. The Prince's letter; why, of all men else,

Comes it to me?