The word He spake My Lord! my King! my Christ!

Was my name:

"MARY!"

No language had I then,

No language have I now! only I turned

My quick glance upward; saw Him; knew Him! sprang,
Crying: "Rabboni! Lord! my Lord! dear Lord!"

In this scene, four characters are introduced: Richelieu, the minister of France and cardinal of the church of Rome; Louis, the king; Baradas, the chief conspirator; Julie, Richelieu's ward.

The king and Baradas have planned the assassination of Richelieu. The king has also designed to marry Julie; but in order to prevent this, Richelieu has given her in marriage to Adrien de Mauprat, whom Baradas has induced to become the tool in the assassination of Richelieu.

As De Mauprat enters Richelieu's room to commit the murder, Richelieu, having anticipated him, thwarts him in his purpose, and then explains to him the treachery of Baradas; whereupon De Mauprat becomes concerned for Richelieu's safety, and meeting the conspirators after leaving the house, announces to them that Richelieu is dead.

On the following day, the conspirators, together with De Mauprat, convene at the king's palace. While here, Baradas, who has already imprisoned Huguet, a spy, conspires against De Mauprat, and finally, by gaining the consent of the king, succeeds in having him also imprisoned in the Bastile.

And now as the king and the conspirators are rejoicing over the supposed death of Richelieu, and are discussing plans as to the best disposition of public offices, Richelieu enters and says:

Rich. [fiercely.]

Room, my lords, room. The minister of France can need no intercession with the King. Louis. What means this false report of death, Lord Cardinal? Rich, Are you, then, angered, Sire, that I live still?

Louis. No; but such artifice

Rich. Not mine; look elsewhere, Louis!

My castle swarmed with the assassins.

Bar. [advancing.] We have punished them already. Huguet

My liege! What page, man, in the last court grammar,
Made you a plural? Count, you have seized the hireling;
Sire, shall I name the master?

Rich. Rivals, Sire, in what?

Service to France? I have none. Lives the man
Whom Europe deems rival to

Armand Richelieu?

Louis. What, so haughty!

Remember, he who made, can unmake.

Never!

Rich.
Never! Your anger can recall your trust,
Annul my office, spoil me of my lands,
Rifle my coffers but my name, my deeds
Are loyal in a land beyond your scepter.
Pass sentence on me, if you will; from Kings
Lo! I appeal to time!

Louis [motions to BARADAS and turns haughtily to the Cardinal]. Enough!

Your Eminence must excuse a longer audience.
To your own palace: for our conference, this

Nor place, nor season.

Rich. Good, my liege, for Justice

All place a temple, and all season summer!
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,

Though loathed by Charity, might ask for justice!
Not with the fawning tone and crawling mien
Of some I see around you Counts and Princes

Kneeling for favors; but erect and loud,

As men who ask man's rights! My liege, my Louis,

Do

you refuse me justice — audience even

In the pale presence of the baffled Murder?

Louis. Lord Cardinal, one by one you have severed from me

The bonds of human love; all near and dear
Marked 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.

Enough of plots and treasons for one reign.

Home! home! and sleep away these phantoms.

Rich.

Sire!

I patience, Heaven! Sweet Heaven! Sire, from the foot
Of that Great Throne, these hands have raised aloft.
On an Olympus, looking down on mortals
And worshiped by their awe-before the foot
Of that high throne, spurn you the gray-haired man
Who gave you empire- and now sues for safety?
Louis. No; when we see your Eminence in truth
At the foot of the throne, we 'll listen to you.
[Exit King and train.]

Rich. Goddess of bright dreams,

My country-shalt thou lose me now, when most
Thou need'st thy worshiper? My native land!
Let me but ward this dagger from thy heart,

Julie. Heaven! I thank thee!

It cannot be, or this all-powerful man

Would not stand idly thus.

Rich. Julie de Maupart, what dost thou here? Home!

Julie. Home!-is Adrien there? You're dumb, yet strive For words; I see them trembling on your lips,

But choked by pity. It was truth-all truth!
Seized the Bastile- and in your presence, too!
Cardinal, where is Adrien? Think! he saved
Your life; your name is infamy, if wrong
Should come to his!

Rich. Be soothed, child.

Julie. Child no more!

I love, and I am woman! Hope and suffer:

Love, suffering, hope what else doth make the strength

And majesty of woman?

I ask thee for my home, my fate, my all!
Where is my husband?

Rich.

You are Richelieu's ward,

A soldier's bride; they who insist on truth

Must out-face fear: you ask me for your husband?
There, where the clouds of heaven look darkest o'er
The domes of the Bastile!

Julie.

O, mercy, mercy!

Save him, restore him, father! Art thou not

The Cardinal King? the lord of life and death?
Art thou not Richelieu?

Rich.

Yesterday I was;

To-day, a very weak old man; to-morrow,

I know not what.

[Enter CLERMONT.]

Cler. Madame de Mauprat!

Pardon, your Eminence; even now I seek

This lady's home-commanded by the King
To pray her presence.

Rich.

To those who sent you!

And say you found the virtue they would slay
Here, couched upon this heart, as at an altar,

And sheltered by the wings of sacred Rome!
Be gone!

[Enter BARADAS.]

Bar. My lord, the King cannot believe your Eminence So far forgets your duty, and his greatness,

As to resist his mandate.- Pray you, madame,

Obey the King; no cause for fear.

Ay, is it so?

Rich.
Then wakes the power which in the age of iron
Bursts forth to curb the great, and raise the low.
Mark, where she stands: around her form I draw
The awful circle of our solemn Church!

Set but a foot within that holy ground,

And on thy head yea, though it wore a crown
I launch the curse of Rome!

Bar.

I dare not brave you;

I do but speak the orders of my King:

The Church, your rank, power, very word, my lord,
Suffice you for resistance; blame yourself,

If it should cost your power.

Rich.

That's my stake. Ah!

Dark gamester! what is thine? Look to it well-
Lose not a trick. By this same hour to-morrow
Thou shalt have France, or I thy head!

Bar.

In sooth, my lord,

You do need rest; the burdens of the state
O'ertask your health. [Aside.]

And life are breaking fast.

His mind

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!

-Sir Edward Lytton.

THE UTILITY OF BOOING

This selection is taken from an old English play, "The Man of the World." It was written to satirize a mean old Scotchman who amassed a large fortune by questionable means, and was elevated to the Peerage under the title of the Earl of Eldon. The Earl, who is represented in the play as Sir Pertinax MacSycophant, is giving his son Egerton an account of his successful business ventures.

Sir PERTINAX MACSYCOPHANT and EGERton.

Sir P. Zounds! sir, I will not hear a word aboot it; I insist upon it you are wrong; you should have paid your court till my lord, and not have scrupled swallowing a bumper or twa, or twenty, till oblige him.

Eger. Sir, I did drink his toast in a bumper.

Sir P. Yes, you did; but how, how?- just as a bairn takes. physic with aversions and wry faces, which my lord observed;