Exhausts me.

Here am I arrived: the rest

Must be done for me. Would I could sit here

And let things right themselves, the masque un

masque

-Of the King, crownless, grey hairs and hot blood—
The young King, crowned, but calm before his time,
They say the eager mistress with her taunts-
And the sad earnest wife who motions me
Away-ay, there she knelt to me! E'en yet
I can return and sleep at Chambery

A dream out. Rather shake it off at Turin,
King Victor! Is't to Turin--yes, or no?
'Tis this relentless noonday-lighted chamber,
Lighted like life, but silent as the grave,

That disconcerts me! There the change must strike.
No silence last year! some one flung doors wide
(Those two great doors which scrutinise me now)
And out I went 'mid crowds of men, men talking,
Men watching if my lip fell or brow knit;
Men saw me safe forth, put me on my road :
That makes the misery of this return!
Oh, had a battle done it! Had I dropped,
Haling some battle, three entire days old,
Hither and thither by the forehead-dropped
In Spain, in Austria, best of all, in France,
Spurned on its horns or underneath its hooves,
When the spent monster went upon its knees
To pad and pash the prostrate wretch-I, Victor,
Sole to have stood up against France, beat down
By inches, brayed to pieces finally

By some vast unimaginable charge,

A flying hell of horse and foot and guns
Over me, and all's lost, for ever lost,

There's no more Victor when the world wakes up! Then silence, as of a raw battle-field,

Throughout the world. Then after (as whole days After, you'd catch at intervals faint noise

Through the stiff crust of frozen blood)—there creeps
A rumour forth, so faint, no noise at all,

That a strange old man, with face outworn for wounds,
Is stumbling on from frontier town to town,
Begging a pittance that may help him find
His Turin out; what scorn and laughter follow
The coin you fling into his cap! and last,

Some bright morn, how men crowd about the midst
Of the market-place, where takes the old king breath
Ere with his crutch he strike the palace-gate

Wide ope!

To Turin, yes or no-or no?

Re-enter CHARLES with papers.

Cha. Just as I thought! A miserable falsehood
Of hirelings discontented with their pay
And longing for enfranchisement! The few
Testy expressions of old age that thinks
To keep alive its dignity o'er slaves

By means that suit their natures!

[Tearing them.] Thus they shake

My faith in Victor!

[Turning, he discovers VICTOR.

Vic. [after a pause.] Not at Evian, Charles?

What's this? Why do you run to close the doors? No welcome for your father?

Cha.

Not his voice!

What would I give for one imperious tone

Of the old sort! That's gone for ever.

Vic.

I ask once more...

Cha.

Must

No-I concede it, sir!

You are returned for . . . true, your health declines;
True, Chambery's a bleak unkindly spot;

You'd chose one fitter for your final lodge—
Veneria or Moncaglier-ay, that's close,

And I concede it.

Vic.

I received advices

Of the conclusion of the Spanish matter
Dated from Evian baths. . .

Cha.

To visit me at Evian, satisfied

And you forbore

The work I had to do would fully task

The little wit I have, and that your presence

Would only disconcert me—

Vic.

Cha.

Charles?

-Me-set

For ever in a foreign course to yours,
And...

Sir, this way of wile were good to catch,
But I have not the sleight of it. The truth!
Though I sink under it! What brings you here?
Vic. Not hope of this reception, certainly,
From one who'd scarce assume a stranger mode
Of speech, did I return to bring about
Some awfulest calamity!

Cha.

You mean,

Did you require your crown again! Oh yes,

I should speak otherwise! But turn not that
To jesting. Sir, the truth! Your health declines?
Is aught deficient in your equipage?

Wisely you seek myself to make complaint,

And foil the malice of the world which laughs
At petty discontents; but I shall care

That not a soul knows of this visit.

Speak!

Vic. [Aside.] Here is the grateful, much-professing

son

Prepared to worship me, for whose sole sake

I think to waive my plans of public good! [Aloud.] Nay, Charles, if I did seek to take once

more

My crown, were so disposed to plague myself,
What would be warrant for this bitterness?

I

gave it-grant, I would resume it-well?

Cha. I should say simply, leaving out the why And how, you made me swear to keep that crown : And as you then intended. . .

Vic.

Fool! What way
Could I intend or not intend? As man,
With a man's will, when I say "I intend,"

I can intend up to a certain point,

No farther. I intended to preserve

The Crown of Savoy and Sardinia whole :
And if events arise demonstrating

The way, I hoped should guard it, rather like
To lose it...

Cha.

Keep within your sphere and mine!

It is God's province we usurp on, else.

Here, blindfold through the maze of things we walk
By a slight clue of false, true, right and wrong;
All else is rambling and presumption. I

Have sworn to keep this kingdom: there's my truth.
Vic. Truth, boy, is here—within my breast; and in
Your recognition of it, truth is, too;

And in the effect of all this tortuous dealing
With falsehood, used to carry out the truth,
-In its success, this falsehood turns, again,
Truth for the world! But you are right: these
themes

Are over-subtle.

I should rather say

In such a case, frankly-it fails, my scheme :

I hoped to see you bring about, yourself,

What I must bring about: I interpose

On your behalf, with my son's good in sight,
To hold what he is nearly letting go-
Confirm his title-add a grace, perhaps.
There's Sicily, for instance, granted me
And taken back some years since; till I give
That island with the rest, my work's half done.
For his sake, therefore, as of those he rules ...
Cha. Our sakes are one-and that, you could not

say,

Because my answer would present itself

Forthwith; a year has wrought an age's change:
This people's not the people now, you once
Could benefit; nor is my policy

Your policy.

Vic. [with an outburst.] I know it! You undo All I have done, my life of toil and care!

I left you this the absolutist rule

In Europe; do you think I will sit still

And see you throw all power off to the people—

See my Sardinia, that has stood apart,

Join in the mad and democratic whirl

Whereto I see all Europe haste full-tide?

England casts off her kings; France mimics Eng

land;