Abbot. Oh thou! who know'st my undivulged thoughts! who know'st how long and fervently I've prayed to root from memory all suffering past, and dwell with gratitude on present blessings, let me but practise what I daily preach, thy brightest attribute forgiveness, and wrong'd Bellarmin shall convince the world, that though their censure stung him to the heart, he feels their kindness with redoubled warmth! He does! the gnawing viper is, at last, extinct! and this auspicious day is herald of his future calm repose!
St. Clair. Now, now, Bernardo, where's the discontent? (advancing towards the abbot.) My lord, well met! and whilst all bless the hour the emperor ratified our choice, we much rejoice your honours cease not with your late election—Today installs you in your envied seat; tomorrow shall behold you still more grac'd; for the free knights shall then elect you to the highest rank in their exalted council!
Bern. Ay; in that sacred council which our holy brotherhood so reverence, and so dread.
Abbot. 'Tis well—'tis well—thus chosen abbot of your own free will, not by my seeking, as ye all can witness; for this, and greater favours past, I'm bound forever to obey, and serve ye! Today, I'll welcome these, our sacred rites; tomorrow, far more awful ceremony! I will descend to the mysterious knights, and prove to those, who vest me with authority, no selfish passion lurks within my breast! 'Tis past! it is subdued! and whilst life lasts, I will devote that life to ever crushing my own narrowed wishes, and courting the superior joy of aiding and promoting general welfare.
Voice (without.) Help! for mercy! help!
Abbot. The voice of one distressed! Unbar the gates—give them free entrance.
[St. Clair opens the gate—Agnes rushes in.
Agnes (falling at the abbot's feet.) Protect me! save me! I'm pursued, o'ertaken;
Bern. (suddenly.) Pursued!—
Ag. No—not pursued—I scarce know what I utter—my friend, my kind protecting friend! who was conducting me through yonder forest, compell'd to leave me by strong urgent circumstance, bade me seek shelter in this holy pile, till one he named could hasten to my relief—and you'll consent! You pious men must feel, that virtue never seems more lovely, than when her arm is stretched to raise the helpless and unfortunate.