Richelieu: Or, The Conspiracy. A Play, in Five Acts

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John M. Kingdom
R.M. De Witt, 1874 - 61 pages

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Page 51 - O'ertask your health ! Rich, [to JOSEPH]. I'm patient, see! Bar. [aside]. His mind And life are breaking fast! Rich, [overhearing him]. Irreverent ribald! If so, beware the falling ruins ! Hark ! I tell thee, scorner of these whitening hairs, When this snow melteth there shall come a flood ! Avaunt ! my name is Richelieu — I defy thee ! Walk blindfold on ; behind thee stalks the headsman. Ha ! ha ! — how pale he is ! Heaven save my country ! [Falls back in JOSEPH'S arms.
Page 48 - Do you deny me justice ? — Saints of heaven ! He turns from me ! — Do you deny, me justice? For fifteen years, while in these hands dwelt empire, The humblest craftsman, the obscurest vassal, The very leper shrinking from the sun...
Page 35 - Like some huge monster, dim-seen through the surf, Waits him who drops ; ye safe and formal men. Who write the deeds, and with unfeverish hand Weigh in nice scales the motives of the Great, Ye cannot know what ye have never tried.
Page 24 - You owe eight thousand pistoles, Minus one crown, two liards ! De Mau.
Page 48 - Mark'd out for vengeance — exile or the scaffold. You find me now amidst my trustiest friends, My closest kindred ; — you would tear them from me ; They murder you forsooth, since me they love ! Eno' of plots and treasons for one reign ! Home ! — Home ! and sleep away these phantoms ! Rich.
Page 33 - In the lexicon of youth, which Fate reserves For a bright manhood, there is no such word As — -fail!
Page 27 - Rise, my children, For ye are mine — mine both ; — and in your sweet And young delight — your love (life's first-born glory) — My own lost youth breathes musical ! De Mau.
Page 47 - Never ! Your anger can recall your trust, Annul my office, spoil me of my lands, Rifle my coffers, — but my name — my deeds, Are royal in a land beyond your sceptre ! Pass sentence on me, if you will ; from Kings, Lo, I appeal to Time...
Page 61 - See, my liege — see thro' plots and counterplots — Thro' gain and loss — thro' glory and disgrace — Along the plains, where passionate Discord rears Eternal Babel — still the holy stream Of human happiness glides on! Louis. And must we Thank for that also — our prime Minister?
Page 24 - I found France rent asunder, — The rich men despots, and the poor banditti; — Sloth in the mart, and schism within the temple; Brawls festering to rebellion; and weak laws Rotting away with rust in antique sheaths. I have re-created France; and, from the ashes Of the old feudal and decrepit carcase, Civilization on her luminous wings Soars, phoenix-like, to Jove!

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