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RICHELIEU.

And the silly child

Visits me daily; calls me "Father;" prays
Kind Heaven to bless me; and for all the rest,
As well have placed a doll about the queen!

She does not heed who frowns, who smiles; with whom
The king confers in whispers; notes not when

Men who last week were foes, are found in corners
Mysteriously affectionate; words spoken

Within closed doors she never hears; by chance
Taking the air at keyholes. Senseless puppet!

No ears, nor eyes! and yet she says "She loves me!"
Go on!

JOSEPH.

Your ward has charm'd the king

RICHELIEU.

Out on you!

Have I not, one by one, from such fair shoots
Pluck'd the insidious ivy of his love?

And shall it creep around my blossoming tree,

Where innocent thoughts, like happy birds, make music
That spirits in Heaven might hear? They're sinful too,
Those passionate surfeits of the rampant flesh;
The church condemns them; and to us, my Joseph,
The props and pillars of the church, most hurtful.
The king is weak; whoever the king loves
Must rule the king; the lady loves another,
The other rules the lady; thus we're balked
Of our own proper sway. The king must have
No goddess but the state; the state-that's Richelieu!

JOSEPH.

This not the worst; Louis, in all decorous,
And deeming you her least compliant guardian,
Would veil his suit by marriage with his minion,
Your prosperous foe, Count Baradas!

RICHELIEU.

I have another bride for Baradas.

You, my lord?

JOSEPH.

Ha! ha!

RICHELIEU.

Ay, more faithful than the love
Of fickle woman: when the head lies lowliest,
Clasping him fondest; sorrow never knew
So sure a soother, and her bed is stainless!

JOSEPH (aside).

If of the grave he speaks, I do not wonder
That priests are bachelors!

Enter François.

FRANCOIS.

Mademoiselle de Mortemar.

RICHELIEU.

Most opportune; admit her.

[Exit François.

In my closet

You'll find a rosary, Joseph; ere you tell

Three hundred beads, I'll summon you. Stay, Joseph;

I did omit an ave in my matins,

A grievous fault; atone it for me, Joseph;

There is a scourge within; I am weak, you strong;
It were but charity to take my sin

On such broad shoulders. Exercise is healthful.

JOSEPH.

I! guilty of such criminal presumption

As to mistake myself for you! No, never!

Think it not!

(Aside) Troth, a pleasant invitation!

Enter Julie de Mortemar:

RICHELIEU.

[Exit Joseph.

That's my sweet Julie! why, upon this face

Blushes such daybreak, one might swear the morning Were come to visit Tithon.

JULIE (placing herself at his feet).

May I say "Father?"

Are you gracious?

RICHELIEU.

Now and ever!

JULIE.

A sweet word to an orphan.

RICHELIEU.

Father!

No; not orphan

While Richelieu lives; thy father loved me well;
My friend, ere I had flatterers (now I'm great,
In other phrase, I'm friendless); he died young
In years, not service, and bequeath'd thee to me;
And thou shalt have a dowry, girl, to buy

Thy mate amid the mightiest. Drooping? sighs?
Art thou not happy at the court?

JULIE.

Not often.

RICHELIEU (aside).

Can she love Baradas? Ah! at thy heart
There's what can smile and sigh, blush and grow pale,
All in a breath! Thou art admired, art young;
Does not his majesty commend thy beauty?
Ask thee to sing to him? and swear such sounds
Had smooth'd the brows of Saul?

Our worthy king.

JULIE.

He's very tiresome,

RICHELIEU.

Fy; kings are never tiresome,

Save to their ministers. What courtly gallants

Charm ladies most? De Sourdiac, Longueville, or
The favourite Baradas?

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RICHELIEU.

Right, girl, shun Baradas. Yet of these flowers
Of France, not one in whose more honey'd breath
Thy heart hears summer whisper?

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I mean-I-does your eminence-that is-
Know you Messire de Mauprat?

RICHELIEU.

Well! and you

Has he address'd you often?

JULIE.

Often! No;

Nine times; nay, ten; the last time by the lattice
Of the great staircase. (In a melancholy tone) The court

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RICHELIEU.

So you note his colours, Julie ?

Shame on you, child, look loftier. By the mass,
I have business with this modest gentleman.

JULIE.

You're angry with poor Julie. There's no cause.

RICHELIEU.

No cause; you hate my foes?

JULIE.

I do!

RICHELIEU.

Hate Mauprat?

JULIE.

Not Mauprat. No, not Adrien, father.

RICHELIEU.

Adrien !

Familiar! Go, child; no, not that way; wait
In the tapestry chamber; I will join you; go.

JULIE.

His brows are knit; I dare not call him father!
But I must speak. Your eminence

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Smile on me-one smile more; there, now I'm happy.
Do not rank Mauprat with your foes; he is not,
I know he is not; he loves France too well.

RICHELIEU.

Not rank De Mauprat with my foes? So be it.
I'll blot him from that list.

JULIE.

That's my own father.
[Exit Julie.

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