 | The Parricide : Or, Innocence in Distress |  |
SCENE II.
To them Felix.Felix.
Good-day, my Child; and fair Eliza hail:
Heav'n's Blessings on you both; and on us all.
Your Charms, my Ariana, all receive
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Methinks you're wond'rous fair! and seem at ease!
Why will not Nature let me join my Joys;
But I have none to lend.
[Sighing.
Aria.
What mean you, Sir?
Ah, whence this sudden Change from gay to grave?
But yester-night you wore another look,
And seem'd to feel for my approaching Nuptials,
Almost a Bridegroom's Joy! admitting that
The fond, romantic Poets give their Lovers.
Felix.
Reflexion since, my Child, has dampt the Flame:
I have survey'd, in thought, this World of Pleasure!
And find how near Alliance Rapture bears
To Anguish and Contrition. Earthly Joys
When highest borne, like tuneful Notes,
Are nearest Discord's Verge: So Heav'n ordains,
To temper Pride, and hint to human Hearts
Our Hopes should soar beyond Mortality.
Aria.
This moral Lesson, Sir, you long have taught me:
By yours, my Passions so are regulated
As ne'er to vie with Reason for Enjoyment.
Heav'n knows, with all this gaiety of look,
My Heart's but meerly warm'd to chaste Approval:
Young Edmund meets Esteem, not boiling Blood,
With ardent Hopes to satiate boist'rous Passion.
But should Heav'n think my Wishes stretch too far,
And humble for that high Offence my Soul:
I'd with becoming Duty learn to bear
Its righteous Chastisements, whate'er the Woe.
But Time has been when you have taught your Daughter
To place just Confidence for modest Joys
On gracious Providence. You, Sir, have prov'd
What 'tis to live, to love, and unimbitter'd.
Felix.
I have indeed: with Bounty, Heav'n has dealt
To me calm Joys, and Pleasures unallay'd:
Its Mercies I confess with grateful Soul.
But look around, how few have far'd like me!
See Hymen curs'd with Discord, Jealousy,
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I know thy Disposition well, my Child;
I know thee humble, grateful, gen'rous, just,
Endow'd with all a Husband's Hopes can reach!
But still—perhaps a Father's Fondness errs,
I own I tremble for this Change of State.
Who knows, my Darling, but I may behold thee
Abus'd, forsaken, all that wretched Women
May dread, and often feel from Tyrant Mates!
I know my kind, and know the force of Passions.
Eliza.
Here let a Sister's Voice, Sir, interpose,
And blast these growing Fears for Edmund's Worth:
I know him of a grateful, gentle Soul,
Compassionate and kind! No boiling Wrath,
Or canker'd Malice e'er deform his Speech,
Disturb his Bosom, or contract his Brow!
No bright Endowment Ariana boasts
Will ever pine unchear'd by his Affection;
His fair Esteem shall nourish ev'ry Virtue,
And bring a Harvest worthy all your Hopes.
Felix.
Forgive these Bodings of a Parent's Heart;
'Tis Nature's Fault that I am guilty thus:
Forgive, Eliza, thou, whose Soul has prov'd
All social Virtue, and all social Bliss!
Fame speaks thy Brother worthy our Esteem,
And more than now thy Sister-Voice asserts;
But Flesh, alas, is frail, and thence proceeds,
Perhaps, this partial Care:—and vain it is!
Our Lot, or good, or bad, 'tis Heav'n appoints,
And Heav'n's Decrees are righteous!—but the best
Will mourn for Misery, if not complain:
Such is the Imperfection of our Nature,
In all Conditions, ever prone to err.
Yes, fair Eliza, should thy Brother's Virtues
Shame all the past, and mount to such a height
As future Emulation ne'er will reach!
Yet this is no Security from Woe:
The Tenure's frail by which we hold our Bliss;
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Are surely those that wait Enjoyment's Loss.
Aria.
To all the wise Decrees of righteous Heav'n,
With humble Duty, I shall e'er submit,
Nor impiously repine.
Felix.
Hah!—so resolv'd!
Howe'er severe! and could'st thou bear its Shocks?
Presumptuous Girl!—Suppose a Bolt descend,
And blast thy now expected Joys?—Suppose
You saw your Bridegroom breathless at your Feet,
And all your Views of Pleasure, Comfort, dead!
Say then how strong would Resignation stand
Against Grief's driving Torrent? Ah, unprov'd,
Thy speculative Virtue there would shrink.
Aria.
Augment the Woes! compleat the dismal Scene!
And to a breathless Bridegroom, add the sight
Of all the Joys I ever yet have known,
A Sacrifice to Death in thee, my Father!
A Sigh might heave, a silent Tear descend,
I might lament, but never would accuse:
Ev'n then should Grief a Victim fall to Hope
For Restoration in another World.
Felix.
My darling Child! Oh, let these Tears express,
And this Embrace, how much my Soul is joy'd
For this Display of Virtue!—Prove it now,
For 'till I'd try'd thy Strength I fear'd to tell,
Indeed a dismal Truth!—thy Edmund's dead!
Aria.
Ah!
[Faints.
Eliza.
O Heav'ns!
[Weeps.
Felix.
Help me, Eliza, help, support my Child:
Grief's sudden Transport has o'ercome her quite,
And nipt her Beauties like a blasted Flower!
So—she revives! how fares it Ariana?
Aria.
I'm wond'rous sick:—but is it Truth you've utter'd?
Or was it, Sir, a fond Device to try
How far my boasted Fortitude was real?
Felix.
Oh, that it was no more!—but rear thy Head,
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Here sit thee down: How art thou now, my Child?
Aria.
I'm something better: yet I'm wond'rous faint.
Felix.
It was my Fault: for tho' I came prepar'd
With Art and Caution to unwind the Clue,
And steal a sad Discovery upon thee,
But where our Passions strongly operate,
Our Reason always fails!—Abrupt came out
The Secret, and Surprise alas o'ercame thee.
Aria.
How happen'd, Sir, this sure untimely blast?
Felix.
Untimely blast indeed!—It happen'd thus.
About an Hour ago th'ill-fated Youth,
In all the Splendor of a Bridegroom drest,
Partook a chearful Meal: then, musing, walk'd
Within the Grove, whose Border Medway laves:
There Castor, wand'ring too by Chance, beheld him
In Contemplation lost: Poor, good young Man,
His Mind, perhaps, was running o'er the Scene
Of his expected Joys! unheedful, when
The Ground, unfaithful to his Foot, o'erthrew him,
And plung'd him in the Waves! his Brother thrice
Beheld him struggling rise, as to his Aid
With pious Haste he ran; the bubbling Stream
Betray'd his last Descent, where Castor plung'd,
And dragg'd him from the Bottom: Vain the Toil,
Fraternal Friendship vain, for Life was fled.
Eliza.
O, Edmund, my dear Brother, oh!
[Weeps.
Felix.
'Tis well!—
Those Tears, my Daughter, are a Tribute due
To so much blasted Virtue! Heav'n, that knows
The Weakness of our Natures, will forgive,
Nay must applaud Love's Debt, when decent paid:
Nor can the bravest Mortal blame the Tear
Which glitters on the Bier of fallen Worth.
Some Hours to soothing Sadness here are due,
O'er which paternal Love has sure no right,
And Friendship best can share.—Eliza, thou,
When Anguish for a Brother's Loss gives way,
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Each other's Comfort in your mutual Woe.
| The Parricide : Or, Innocence in Distress | |