Offenders against human laws alone;

But when Almighty Heaven hath suffer'd wrong
The Church dare show no mercy to the guilty.

[Here one of the Comnenians, having advanced gradually to the front, steps between the Abbot and EUDOCIA. Comnenian. Brother, of this the doctrine thou

deliver'st,

I cannot tell thee less than that 'tis false.
It is a lying doctrine, brother-yea,

A doctrine which the Devil hath inspired
Into thy Synod, and which God abhors.

Abbot. And what art thou that thou shouldst interpose?

Am I not highest of mine order here?

Comnenian. I tell thee that thy words are not of God, Nor shall the touch of secular force pollute

This holiest, as the best inhabited,

Of all God's dwelling-places here on earth.

Abbot. Thou contumacious monk! what right is thine,

To say to me this shall or this shall not be ?

Ho the Varangian Guards! thou shalt see proof
How what I do in this is countenanced.

Dost see this writing? See'st the purple ink?
A warrant in the Emperor's very hand
Doth authorize proceedings to this length.

Comnenian. A stronger warrant in Count Isaac's hand Doth stay them.

[Throws off his disguise and draws his sword. The rest

do the like.

Abbot. Treason! Ho! Varangians! Help!

[Exit.

Comnenus. Let six defend each door. My valiant

sister,

Well met in any hour; and gentle Anna,

We shall find fitter time for gratulation.

Form into line.

[The Comnenians form a line on each side, leaving a passage between them down to the Altar.

My sister, not a man

Thou see'st before thee but in this day's fight
Did champion's service. At the altar thou
Shalt take the safest station with our cousin,
And as you pass extend a hand to each
Of these your soldiers, which, as he receives,
He in his martial heart will pledge his faith,
Long as it beats with life to fight your battles.

Eudocia. My gallant friends, may fairer hands than this

Be your reward when this day's work is wrought. [COMNENUS leads EUDOCIA and ANNA between the lines

down to the altar. The clash of arms is heard without, and the Varangian trumpets. COMNENUS draws aside the curtain of the altar.

Comnenus. My sister, sit ye here. Ha! what be these?

Behold a miracle, my spear and shield!

Now, by the God of battles, this is strange,
Nor less auspicious. To the charge they go.
Guards at the doors. The gates are not of strength;
we cannot keep them.

Comnenus. Back each man to his station. Keep them not.

[Varangians defile through the gates. Horns are heard at a distance.

Captain of the Varangians. Behold the impious heretic himself!

Yield, or thy wretched band is hewn in pieces.
Comnenus. If thou wilt do that office on but one
Of them thou see'st, I pledge my royal word,
When I hang up thy rebel kind to-morrow,
To grant remission of thy forfeit head.
Enough of talking. Hark! Comnenians, hark!
List ye the horns from Ergon. Now, fall on.
Down to the dust, idolaters.

[As the fight begins, a cry of "Comnenus" is heard, and
ALEXIUS enters at the opposite gates with his soldiers.
The Varangians are driven out.

Alexius. Well fought, my friends! the last of this

day's fight.

L

Behold! our flag is flying on Sophia's,

And ye may sheathe your swords; the day is ours. The Comnenians shout. Isaac Comnenus! may he rule us long!

Long may the brave Comnenus wear the crown!
The Common Soldiers are heard crying confusedly.
Proclaim him Emperor. Go, bring the crown.
Where are the purple buskins? Long may he live!
Long live Count Isaac !

Alexius.

And where is Count Isaac ?

Several Soldiers. Where is Comnenus?
A Soldier.

When I saw him last,

He pass'd beside yon image of St. Conon.

Another. Ay, and he struck the image as in sport, And split the marble with his glove of mail.

Alexius. He has left us for the palace. Ah, Eudocia ! A happy meeting this, a happy fortune,

After long years of absence, thus to meet
My sister in the hour of victory.

Eudocia. May like success be ever with your arms! Alexius (to ANNA). My gentle cousin, be this homage thine

From all the Eastern empire. Friends, repair
To the imperial palace; as ye go

Proclaim Count Isaac Emperor through the streets.
Sound the Comnenian March. Now, all set forth.

END OF THE FOURTH ACT.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-An Apartment in the Prisons.

Nicephorus (alone). Morn, let me meet thee face to

face once more.

Thou look'st upon me with an unmoved front;
The pale cold aspect of a wearied friend.

Such are the world's mutations. I had deem'd
The remnant of a life that I have left

Might pass in peace, such as beseems old age;
But oh! the infirmities of age in Kings
Cripple the body politic: first fails

Life's vigour at the heart, a numbness next
Seizes the weak extremities of empire;

Then some old sore breaks out, and all at once
The nice adjustments of the strong-knit frame
Dissolve like rotted ligaments asunder.
There's some one comes;

light

but here's such scanty

Who stands within the Emperor's prison doors?
Comnenus (who has entered). Isaac Comnenus.
Nicephorus.

Thou art welcome, Count;

More welcome to my prison than my palace.

Comnenus. I know it. Never was I welcome there.

Had I been less obnoxious in thy sight,

I had not sought thy fall. Nor seek I now
Thy further fall than what defence demands.
I would give room unto thy shortening days
To gather in the after-math of life.

I wait thy answer.
Nicephorus.

Count, it may seem strange To thee, as sometimes to myself it seems,

That being from my high imperial state
So low deposed, the nearest of my friends
Laid lower still, if lower that state be
Which the grave darkeneth to our repute :
My name that hath had reverence heretofore,
Become a common theme, when common men

Would feed their malice or make known their charity : I say it may seem strange, that being thus

A desolate and disconsolate old man,

Life should to me be acceptable still.

Comnenus. My pledge is given, that life be not denied.

Nicephorus. At threescore years and twelve, the boon of life

Man can impledge to man may well be deem'd
A thing of small account. I take thy gift.

Commenus. Gladly I find there's aught I have to give

Worth thy acceptance. One condition yet
Demands fulfilment that the crown be safe;
For to that end provision must be made
That derogates in some sort from my grant.
Nicephorus. Imprisonment I am content to brook :
It is an ill which age itself brings on,

Barring the wrongs of Fortune.
More meekly may endure it.

Comnenus.

An old man

Somewhat else

Remains for stipulation. While thou hold'st
Thy station in men's minds, as being still
One of an order capable of empire,

Thy friends will breed expectancy of change. Nicephorus. Friends was thy word? in truth an empty fear!

My friends! In thousands yesterday at dawn
Like leaves in summer did they hang on me ;
But ere night fell, as with a winter's blight,
They were abroad upon the several winds.
Now by God's name, it grieves me to the heart
They were not sepultured in yonder trench.