University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Enter Duke, Seraphana.
Duke.
Why do you strive t'excuse your self or me?
Did not you make th'Appointment?

Seraph.
Yes, I did.

Duke.
And name the very Apartment, and the Time
We were to meet? with some Commands beside
To be observ'd?

Seraph.
'Tis true, great Sir, I did.

Duke.
Well, granting that you fail'd me, (as you say
You did) Why shou'd you falsely promise that
You meant not to perform?

Seraph.
For a Design that did not take Effect,
Tho', on my Side, religiously intended:
For so may Heav'n deny, or grant me Mercy,
As I have told you Truth. How you cou'd be
Impos'd on so, I tremble to conjecture.
What y'ave declar'd does shew y'are much abus'd,
But upon me, where e'er the Fault does lie,
The Punishment has most severely fallen.
Tho' more than Life, I lov'd the Prince Berino;
I was resolv'd, till I had eas'd my Mind,
And clear'd my self of the Disgrace you had
(I know not how) conceiv'd unjustly of me,
To shun his Bed as I wou'd shun Confusion.
I cou'd not answer it at all to Virtue
To Marry him till you were undeceiv'd.
Relief at length is come; and now our Way
Is smooth, nor shall he till to morrow stay:
'Twill half attone for all his Miseries past,
To find me better than my Word at last.
[Exit Seraph.

Duke.
I am amaz'd! to see her Confidence
Makes me almost believe her, even in spite
Of my own Senses: Falshood has in her
Assum'd the Air of Truth, and charms alike.
'Twas not Imagination, 'twas no Dream,
But real and substantial,
Met with a Warmth as great as that I brought.
Let me consider.—Is it not her Interest
To say all this? It is; her Marriage else
With my fond Uncle falls. 'Tis her own Cause:
She is a partial Witness, and must find
The less Regard; yet 'twas a cunning Way:
But Wickedness does never want Invention.
He must not be abus'd.—O Lust! thou Bane
Of half Mankind, and Tempter to the Rest,
Which ev'n, sometimes, the best but ill resist,
And halting win the Day: Happy are those
Whose Youth does scape thee. Between Love and thee
Vast is the Difference, tho' thy Votaries say
(Who rather wou'd be scorch'd than warm'd) there's none:
For Love's all lambent Brightness, pure and chaste
But thine is a consuming Fire like Hell,
And here does light the Flames it there must feel.

Enter Dutchess.
Dutch.
I parted just now with a strange Petitioner!
Wou'd you not think it odd for one that's Poor,
Yet sees vast Sums of Wealth before his Face,
And has the Liberty to take at Will,
To beg he may have none? Yet such is Agnon!
He dies for Love, yet makes it his Request
He may not have the Fair one he adores,
Tho' he without her never can be Happy:—
I must beg you t'advise him.

Duke.
Agnon is Wise, and therefore has, no doubt,
Reason for his Refusal.—
But, Madam, I am your Petitioner
As well as he. You but just now were pleas'd
To mention Marriage to me; now I own
I've made my Choice; and only your Consent
Is wanting as a License to my Joy.

Dutch.
What Chill is this that do's run shudd'ring thro' me!
[Walking from him.
I feel methinks, a Flatness in my Spirits:
My Blood retires to aid my lab'ring Heart,
And boading Horrors brood upon my Mind,
As Fate were teeming with some dire Event,
Just struggling for the Birth.—What can it mean?
O ye Immortal Pow'rs! you know my Intents
Were just, and that my Virtue was surpriz'd:
I've long repented, and I yet repent:
Accept my Sorrows, and avert my Fears,
Contrition ne' before shed purer Tears!

[Aside.
Duke.
She seems disturb'd—But will not sure deny me.

[Aside.
Dutch.
Yes, Son; I heard y'had made your Choice; but yet
[Turning towards him, and smiling.
Am ignorant of whom; yet I've been thinking,
But know not where to fix. You need not doubt
Of my Consent: She who cou'd gain your Love
Is worthy of a Crown.

Duke.
O she's the best
And sweetest of her Sex! Description yet
Could never reach her! never yet in Dreams,
In all the visionary Objects seen,
When op'ning Heaven its Glories does disclose,
Appear'd a purer Form! By this time you
Must needs conceive I mean no other but
Your Favourite, Adorissa.

Dutch.
Horror! Horror!—Oh!—

[Swoons.
Duke.
She sinks! She dies away!—Without there! Help!
Who waits? Berino! Agnon!—Death and Horror!
No Creature within hearing!
Look down ye Pow'rs, see but how frail w' are made,
And pity us! A Flower is longer fading!—
Cruel! cruel!

Dutch.
Oh!

Duke.
How do you, Madam?

Dutch.
Just as Sinners do
That stand upon the very Brink of Hell;
Th'eternal Fire before, and Fiends behind,
Just ready for the Plunge!—O I am all
O'er monstrous! Conscience, whither wilt thou drive me?
I will not, cannot bear it—'tis too Cruel!

[Swoons again.
Duke.
What dreadful thing can thus o'ercome her Spirits!
I'm stiffn'd with the Horror!—No Help yet?—
But she again revives!

Dutch.
The Pow'rs have found me out! I knew a Day
Wou'd come, how e'er the Van of Life did please,
That wou'd bring Vengeance in the Rear: Just Heav'n
Will not forget, tho' it may long delay.

Duke.
What do you mean? I stand confounded at
This wild Behaviour.—Speak, and ease your Soul:
If Kingdoms are the Price, to give you Peace,
You need not doubt the Cure.

Dutch.
Hear me, Theodorus, hear me, wretched Son!
By all th'Immortal Pow'rs, I here adjure you,
If thou hast the least Wish or Hope of Joy
Here, or hereafter, fly from Adorissa:
I charge you think not of her as a Wife!
In other things command me, I'll obey,
And lick the Dust before you: But if thou
In this dost disobey me, all my Blessings
I'll turn to mortal Curses, that shall weigh
Thee down so low, the Hand of Heav'n it self
Will ne'er extend to raise thee!

Duke.
This Violence.—

Dutch.
Is to save thee from Perdition!
What e'er becomes of me, I'd have you Happy.—
Kneel! Kneel!—

Duke.
I will.—Ye Heav'nly Pow'rs restore her!

[Aside.
Dutch.
Now Swear! Swear by that everlasting Faith
That we profess, by every thing that binds
A Christian Oath, Truth, Chastity, and all
That's Pure and Holy, that you'l never touch her
Or take her to thy Bed a Wife, or else;
(For both, O both are damnable alike!)
Swear as you hope Salvation!

Duke.
O Madam, let me beg you to retire,
[Rising.
And talk with your Divines; their Counsel will
Let in the Beams of Comfort on your Soul,
And fix your wayward Reason.
Religion is the Balm to fester'd Minds;
There's none so wretched, none so lost to Hope,
But find it there.—Come Madam, I'll attend you.

Dutch.
No, no, I am not mad—O, that I were!
Madness? It wou'd be Heav'n to what I suffer:
To Knowledge lost, I shou'd be lost to Grief,
No Guilt, or Fear of future Pain wou'd haunt me.
I've told you Truth,—this is the very Crisis
On which your endless Weal or Woe depends.
Be wise and save your self.—But don't propose
Counsel to me; Physician, nor Divine,
No human Means or heav'nly will avail me,
I'm past all Cure!—

Duke.
Horrid Desperation!

[Aside.
Dutch.
But since you are not so,
O Swear! Swear! Swear to what I have enjoyn'd you!

Duke.
What shall I do to save her?
[Aside.
Alas I've sworn the Contrary! I've sworn eternal Love!
I've sworn immediately to marry her!
Think on the Doom that's due to perjur'd Souls,
And you'll not counsel me to break my Vows,
When Heav'n was call'd to vouch 'em.

Dutch.
Heav'n will pardon,
Nay Heav'n exacts it from you; we must shun
The great, for lesser Evils. To most Men
The breaking of a Vow, I grant, is Mortal:
But 'tis a Sin for you to keep it, greater
Than Perjury, Blasphemy, Revenge, or Murder,
Or ought we hold most horrid! I'm your Mother,
Think but of that—

Duke.
I do;
But dare not ev'n be Wicked, tho' you'd have me.

Dutch.
O Miserable! Miserable Woman!
See but to what your Disobedience drives me.
[Kneels.
Here, grov'ling, thus, thus in this abject Posture,
I beg you, I beseech you to yield up
That fatal Fair to Agnon, or to any,
No matter whom, so y' are acquitted of her—
Yet hear me! hear me! hear me!

Duke.
Rise! O Rise! or else
By Heav'n I will not answer you a Word.
[She rises.
Were it but Life, how quickly I'd obey?
But she's my Soul! there can be no Division!

Dutch.
There can: there must! there shall!—But
Since my Prayers and Tears are all in vain,
I assume a Mother's Power: Tho' in Office
I am below, in Nature I'm above you,
And do Command you leave her.

Duke.
Let your Commands be possible!

Dutch.
They are!
[Laying hold on him.
Villain, they are!—O I shall be distracted!
He that can let a Mother kneel in vain,
Is an unnatural Villain!—You shall leave her!

Duke.
What will my Fate do with me!—
See, Madam, speak the Word, I'l sheath it deep
[Draws his Sword.
Here in my Breast, to shew there's nothing else
But that you ask I can or will deny you.

Dutch.
By any other Hand thy Death were happy!—
Instruct me, O instruct me, gracious Heav'n,
[Walking from him.
T'escape this Labyrinth! I can see
No Path but Ruin, and unheard of Horrors!
New Worlds of Woe, and Vice beyond Example!
O for a Clue to guide me!

[Studying.
Duke.
I was not warn'd in vain; tho' I delay'd
My coming long, I am return'd too soon.
Something, methinks, prophetical informs me
My Death were now a Blessing!

[Aside.
Dutch.
See, rash young Man, to what your thus persisting
In stubborn Disobedience has reduc'd you:
I wou'd have kept it secret; but 'tis now
What you must know; yet, known, you'll wish you had
Implicitly obey'd and sought no further.

Duke.
What Turn is this? Is there a Shaft behind
That yet can wound me deeper?

Dutch.
This Mistress of your Vows, this Adorissa,
From whom I've been dissuading you; ev'n she
Whose Breast you thought a white expanded Heav'n,
Where Chastity was grav'd to last for Ages,
Is now become a Sheet of Brothel Paper,
To write the Name of Whore on.

Duke.
Ha! whither now?
Where will these Mischiefs find a Termination?

Dutch.
I need not tell you that above my self,
And next to you, I once did love that Lady:
In her dear Bosom, I repos'd my Cares,
And never mist of finding Comfort there.
Now Agnon being as much priz'd by you,
Joyn'd in our Love, I did not think I could
Oblige you more than to joyn both in Marriage.
Accordingly, I've been th'Occasion, oft,
Of Interviews between 'em, and prevail'd
Upon her Mother to promote the Match:
This Day (O fatal Day to all our Quiet!)
I left 'em in my Closet, that the Youth
Might, undisturb'd, pursue her fair Affection:
But some Time after (and it must be Heav'n
That did inspire me) I'd a Mind, methought,
To listen to their Talk. But O! 'Twas such
As told me she must never be your Wife!
Unless you are content to glean for Pleasure
After a Subject who enjoy'd the Harvest
Of all her blushing Honours.

Duke.
O speak no more! It cannot, must not be!
She is too pure to tempt such gross Damnation!

Dutch.
The Fault is mine, and I the less can blame her:
I gave the Opportunity, which still
Is half of the Temptation. Now I knew
To find at once your Friend and Mistress false,
Would give Birth to a Train of Miseries
Dreadful to think on: Therefore, to prevent
Your Knowledge of their Treach'ry, made me feign
So strange a Height of Passion, which I thought
Wou'd work on you to leave her.
But since, unless you had been undeceiv'd,
You wou'd have marry'd her, I've told you all,
And hope you'll not condemn me for my Zeal,
(Howe'er it might appear uncouth and strange)
To save you from Dishonour.

Duke.
You've told me nothing if you tell no more!
What were the Words you over-heard? O speak!
Tho' it be Death to hear 'em!

Dutch.
Weep not, my Love, said he,
Our stol'n Pleasures none can ever know
Your Marriage being so near. Then why these Fears?
O dry thy Eyes, or yet thou dost not love me!

Duke.
A long Adieu to Friendship, Love, and Honour!
They're in this Couple all extinct for ever.—
If there's yet more, go on—Tho' I'm almost
Past hearing any further.

Dutch.
Not Love, said she, judge that by what is past,
The Proof but now I gave you needs no second:
For if I marry'd you 'twou'd ruin both.
Besides, our Treachery would then appear
In its black Form, and leave us no Excuse:
Now we in secret to our Joys may move;
He shall but have the Look, and you the Love.

Duke.
She's gone! for ever gone!
And all the Sweetness lost that charm'd my Soul!
She's gone, and drags my Heart-strings after her!
O sharp convulsive Agony of Love!
The Soul and Body sev'ring on the Rack,
Endure not half my Torture! But they once
Will meet again, and reunite for ever:
In our sad Parting Soul is torn from Soul,
To join no more! No Resurrection e'er
Will call the Parts into their ancient Order.
O long Divorce! O final Separation!
Where is that Subject now in all my Empire
So wretched?—
And yet, O Heav'n, to think how oft she has sworn
She wou'd be true; with how much Earnestness
She sigh'd her Vows!—Confusion! Pain and Torture!
Why shou'd I so fondly give it Credit?
Patience, when so much Sanctity's traduc'd,
Were Tameness not a Virtue!

Dutch.
How, Theodorus?—

Duke.
You but just now seem'd lost in Guilt and Horror:
How cou'd her Falshood so far influence you
To swoon, and rave, and talk so of Despair?
If that was feign'd, how can I think this real?
Ev'n in your present Blushes I can see
Something you've yet not told me.

Dutch.
I've told, I find, too much already, since
You make no better Use on't;
And if I blush 'tis at your want of Duty.—
But disbelieve me, if you please, and marry her:
I have discharg'd my Conscience.

[Going.
Duke.
O stay! It was an impious Thought to doubt you!
Yet had I heard the News from any other,
I'd thought it false as Hell! and I must yet
Desire ev'n you to bind it with an Oath,
Some Imprecation that may leave behind
No Room for Disbelief.

Dutch.
Then hear me Heav'n, and so in Death reward me
As I have told you Truth.

Duke.
Enough, no more, you've struck my Shackles off.
Her Smiles, in all Eyes else begetting Love,
Shall lose on me their Force and quick'ning Pow'r,
As the Sun hardens Clay, and makes it steril.
My Soul is now at Ease: A Lightness dwells
About my Heart, like Men from Danger freed,
The Pleasure greater for their former Fear,
And tells me I without her shall be happy.
Farewel all fond inordinate Desires,
That still misguide us with your wand'ring Fires.
No more I'll think of Friendship, or of Love,
But fix my Hopes and my Desires above:
There no false Oath, or treach'rous Look beguiles,
But Truth abounds, and Peace for ever smiles.

Dutch.
Ay, now you make the right Use of Affliction;
So Crosses shou'd be borne.
Pardon me Heav'n;
[Aside, as she goes off.
I've done a little ill t'avoid a greater.
Some Mischief on poor Agnon's Head will fall,
But my Son's Marriage had undone us all!
[Exit Dutch.

Enter on the other Side Adorissa.
Duke.
See where she comes! Ye Pow'rs! and beauteous still!
The Red and White the same,
The right ætherial Hue and Bloom of Heav'n!
I cannot look on her and not admire—
O I must shun her, or I'm lost again!

[Aside, going.
Ador.
Come join with me, my Lord,
[Pulls him back by the Sleeve.
T'adore the Pow'rs that smile upon our Love;
Turn not away: I'll charm you more than ever!
I have disclos'd my Passion to my Mother,
And your Design of Marriage: She, at first,
Wou'd scarce believe you'd condescend to make
So low a Choice. At last, she, smiling, gave
Me her Consent; and said she'd be a Means
That we shou'd meet and marry privately,
Without your Mother's Knowledge.

Duke.
O frail and faithless Beauty! You mistake:
'Twas her Consent for Agnon—
How have I been deceiv'd! Who will hereafter,
That sees my Wreck, e'er trust in Man or Woman?
Rocks on both Sides! The Streights must fatal prove
When Scylla's Friendship, and Charybdis Love.

Ador.
What means, my Lord, this sudden Alteration?
Your Words imply some fatal Discontent!
O look more pleas'd! Your Aspect else will kill me,
And save your Tongue the Guilt!

Duke.
Tell me (O Adorissa) and as truly
As you in Prayer confess your Faults to Heav'n;
What think you of my Mother?

Ador.
That she is
The chastest and the holiest of her Sex:
Thrice ev'ry Day she, on her Knees, sollicits
The Pow'rs divine for Pardon for Offences:
As oft returns 'em Praises for their Blessings.
The foremost Saint in the most Christian Times
Breath'd not more pure Devotion.—Why the Question?

Duke.
Can you believe she wou'd be guilty of
So black a Crime as Perjury?

Ador.
O No!
There is no Pardon for the Wretch that says it.

Duke.
Then hear me, Heav'n! If she's not false and perjur'd,
Thou art the most unrighteous Creature that
Did ever tempt Damnation! Not a Fiend
But is more white, and has more Hope of Mercy!

Ador.
Are you awake! Or am I in a Dream!
I hope your Words are distant from your Meaning!
This Language is too dismal to be real!

Duke.
Dismal, indeed, but true!
O thou hast stabb'd me in the mortal Part!
Invulnerable to all Miseries else.
Great but for thee, I only courted Fame
To make me worthy of you: Now a Grave,
Since thou art false, is all my whole Ambition.

Ador.
Amazement gets the better of my Grief!
My very Wonder does devour my Sorrow,
Which else wou'd sink me to the Grave you speak of!
Who is it that's so daring to accuse
My Looks of the least Breach of Modesty?
My Love with the least Proneness to a Change
Or any Action of my Life with Falshood?

Duke.
One that's a Witness to the Breach of all.
O Adorissa! 'twas unkind! unkind!
'Twas in thy Heart I treasur'd all my Riches,
My present Joys, and half my Hopes of future;
They're gone! 'tis only Agnon now that charms,
And all my Wealth lies clasp'd within his Arms.

Ador.
Be you my Witness that my Fears were just.
I see my Ruin! And if you are pleas'd,
I'll not complain: I only liv'd for you,
And I can die to serve you. Yet, methinks,
You might have found a nobler Way of parting,
Than t'have accus'd me falsly, and make that
The poor Pretence to leave me.
I always thought my self unworthy of you,
And do so now, and therefore will not blame you.
Be pleas'd I may return from whence I came,
There graving on my Heart the faithless Name
Of perjur'd Man, consume my self with Sorrow.

Duke.
Pray tell me, was you not alone to Day,
Shut up with Agnon in my Mother's Closet?

Ador.
I was indeed: But—

Duke.
Hold—
Confirm'd from her own Mouth! there needs no more!
There 'twas my Mother over-heard your Loves:
You're conscious to your self what pass'd between you:
And 'tis, indeed, too black for Repetition.
Do not go on in Sin by a Denial;
Or if you do 'twill be but lost on me;
I'm rooted and confirm'd in this Belief,
That you're all Falshood: So farewel for ever.

[Going.
Ador.
Stay, Sir! O stay! yet hear me e're you go!
My last Request, and I'll not long detain you!
Remember when you first came from the Camp,
From which my Mother's House was not far distant,
A lonely Seat, in which you much delighted:
You found me there all Innocence, unskill'd
In courtly Arts, pleas'd with my single State,
Which I had strong Suggestions ne'er to alter.
You oft wou'd honour me to talk of Love;
I heard you, and confess the pleasing Sounds
Sunk to my Soul, and made you Lord of all.
My Mother then was absent, and I ne'er
Disclos'd your Passion to her, nor my own;
Fearing th'Event wou'd be as now it proves,
I thought it best conceal'd.
How often did we pass the live-long Night
In Stories of our Love? And been surpriz'd
To see the rising Morn, when we believ'd
The Ev'ning but begun? O blissful State!
No earthly Joy; it was a Glimpse of Heav'n!
Sometimes I wept because I fear'd your Faith,
But then you'd swear again you wou'd be true,
And keep me at the Price of all your Crowns.

Duke.
O 'tis all true! and 'twas a heav'nly Time!

Ador.
Remember then I told you (when you made
Me promise you to meet you here at Mosco)
That when the shining Beauties of the Court
Inclos'd you round, and hung upon your Eyes
To catch a Glance; you wou'd forget that e'er
There was so mean a Wretch as Adorissa.
Prophetick in my Fears, they're come to pass,
You've left me the first Day of your Arrival.
Yet I'll be bold to say you've lost in me
What you'll scarce find at Court—
For if I am not innocent of all
You charge me with, may I ne'er know what Joys
Heav'n has in Store for Virtue.—But farewel!
O! can I, without breaking of my Heart,
Pronounce that dreadful Word!—But let it break,
Since you will have it so.—A long Adieu!
I go to please you. When you hear I'm true,
Pray shed one Tear,—for I weep Blood for you!

[Going.
Duke.
Hold! one Word more!
Thou hast a Tongue that makes all Musick vain,
Ev'n in thy Falshood charming.
My Soul stands list'ning to the pleasing Sound,
Stoops to the Lure, delighted with the Call,
And courts its own Destruction.—
It must not be, 'tis fatal to believe thee!
Reason and Honour have resum'd the Rein,
And govern with an undisputed Sway:
Love wou'd revolt, but with monarchal Pride
They interpose, and sever us for ever.
Adieu! and with thee all the Thoughts of Woman—
Thou hast undone me! but I'm not alone!
Your Sex's Arts thro' all Degrees are known;
You ruin from the Cottage to the Throne!
We're Suff'rers all; with Adam, Eve began,
And ev'ry Woman since has damn'd her Man.
[Exit Duke.

Ador.
Why did I think of e'er returning Home?
My Journey ends ev'n here.
Adieu all Thoughts of Pleasure, Love, and Empire:
'Twas but a gaudy Scene of painted Glory,
That now is clos'd for ever!
So the poor Wretch that in a Vision sees
Vast Sums of Wealth, and thinks it all is his,
With Pleasure views it, turns it o'er and o'er,
And quite forgets how mean he was before:
Forms in his Mind vast Schemes of various Things,
Is great in Courts, and intimate with Kings.
But the unruly Joy, too strong to keep
Confin'd, at last does burst the Bonds of Sleep:
Waking, he finds the rich Delusion gone,
And with sad Sighs renews his former Moan.
[Exit Adorissa.