University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE—The Dungeon.
ELOISA.
The pitying Nun comes not to bless my sight—
My too impatient soul is so disturb'd,
I dare not hope—habitual wretchedness
Has troubled ev'ry sense—Yet I'm a mother!—
And that sweet tie binds me to life anew.
But, ah! what dreadful fate, perhaps, o'erhangs,
My poor Amelia—how the thought distracts me!
O may some angel, with protecting wing,
Shield her from all calamity, and guide
Her steps for ever!—What sound is that?

Enter Isaura.
ISAURA.
Alas!

ELOISA.
Wherefore that sigh? you chill me with affright.
Is my Amelia safe? my darling daughter!

ISAURA.
Fear not for her—

ELOISA.
Proceed—I breathe again.

ISAURA.
Nay, do not yet exult; a threat'ning storm
Seems ready now to burst, and overwhelm us.

ELOISA.
O whence this rising terror?—tell me all.

ISAURA.
The watchful Abbess, from her lattice, mark'd
Amelia's flight—

ELOISA.
Then she has fled?

ISAURA.
She has
Indeed escap'd.

ELOISA.
Blessed be Heav'n!—at length
My woes are past.

ISAURA.
Danger respected her;
A hand invisible sustain'd her steps.
Wildly from thee she rush'd, then cross'd the garden,
Like a young roe, and vaulted o'er the wall.
As traversing the street, her eager voice
Cried, I've receiv'd no harm—hasten, Isaura!
Fly to console my mother.

ELOISA.
O my sweet child!

ISAURA.
But let us now beware of the fell band,
The impious females of this hated place,
Who meditate, with unrelenting rage,
To increase our woe.

ELOISA.
Said'st thou—increase my woe!
Nay, that till now had been impossible—
But now I have a daughter!

ISAURA.
She's in safety;
At least I trust she is.

ELOISA.
Then I defy
Their fury, if it fall alone on me.

ISAURA.
Hark! they are now descending.

ELOISA.
Let them come.

Enter Abbess and Nuns.
ELOISA.
[To the Abbess.
Thou ruthless monster—glut thy cruelty
With gazing on my long-protracted torments;
Slake thy fell thirst with these continual tears,
And glory in my grief.

ABBESS.
Vile woman, peace—
We have discover'd a mysterious crime.—
What do'st thou in this cell, Isaura?

ISAURA.
Madam!—

ABBESS.
You hesitate—I am convinc'd.

ISAURA.
I only—
Came here—to mention—

ABBESS.
The rash girl's departure—
Whom you have lately introduc'd, I find,
To this secluded vault.

ISAURA.
Disastrous day!

ABBESS.
'Tis true what I assert.

ISAURA.
And I avow it:
It was my proper act; and if a fault,
Why punish me.

ABBESS.
Traitress, I shall do so,
And with severity.

ELOISA.
Art thou not weary,
Heav'n! to behold such boundless tyranny?—
She did her duty; for she sav'd my child.

ABBESS.
Your child?

ELOISA.
My own;—
Did I not give her life?

ABBESS.
Who told you this?

ELOISA.
'Twas Nature—and our hearts.

ABBESS.
Blush, if you can;
And may the shame confound you!

ELOISA.
'Tis yourself
Who ought to feel a burning on the cheek;—
Eternal Justice! weigh our separate crimes
In equal scales, and her that may be found
The greater culprit, strike with instant death.—
You shrink from the appeal.

ABBESS.
Do you presume
To justify the criminal, loose love,
Which brought a father's malediction on you?
'Tis penitence alone can obtain mercy;
Of that you've need.

ELOISA.
But how shalt thou escape
Eternal vengeance? thou must answer for
The rending torments I have suffer'd here;
Give a severe account of all my wrongs
By thee inflicted.—If that I have err'd,
My fault was love, but thine was causeless hate.
Mortals were form'd for union and affection;
Dungeons and chains are not the work of Heav'n!

ABBESS.
Cease, cease this most abhorred blasphemy;—
Do you not tremble at my pow'r?

ELOISA.
I scorn it.

ABBESS.
Your scorn will not avail; here I command.

ELOISA.
Perhaps your tyranny is near its end.

ABBESS.
What is this expectation?—pray, instruct me.

ELOISA.
Amelia shall deliver—

ABBESS.
Shall be punish'd—
She is retaken.

ELOISA.
Do I live to hear it?

ABBESS.
She will be instantly brought back, to learn
How a rebellious spirit may be tam'd.

ELOISA.
Nay, murder me at once, but save my child.
Good lady! pardon her.

ABBESS.
What! you can bend
Your stubborn nature now to supplicate?—
Can moderate your anger—

ELOISA.
Let the excess of my calamity
Plead for my rash reproaches: O! remember,
They lov'd, who gave you being; you lov'd them:—
Then, by the recollection of those ties;
By the maternal breast on which you hung;
By the benign religion you profess;
By Him who made us all; I do implore you
To heap fresh torments on my hated head,
So you but spare Amelia.—On my knees—

Amelia
[without].
My mother—Eloisa!

ELOISA.
'Tis her voice!

ABBESS.
They lead her hither, that her crime may meet
Its proper chastisement.—

ELOISA.
O pardon, pardon, pardon!—

ABBESS.
No pow'r on earth shall move me.

Enter Amelia, Fenelon, Priests, Nuns, and Attendants.
FENELON.
Peace to this sad abode.

AMELIA.
My mother

ELOISA.
My Amelia!

AMELIA.
We come to set you free, to bring you joy.

FENELON.
O superstition! O inhuman fury!

AMELIA.
Behold the virtuous Fenelon!

ELOISA.
Permit me
To embrace your sacred knees, most holy prelate!—
Now, as I live, you weep!

FENELON.
Arise, poor lady!
What have ye done, barbarians as ye are?—

[To the Abbess, and Nuns.
ABBESS.
Heav'n has decreed for base, rebellious spirits
A heavy punishment.

FENELON.
Heav'n pardons all—
But inhumanity.

ABBESS.
'Twas lawful rigour.

FENELON.
No more—you cannot palliate your crime;
Heav'n's will is mercy, and its promise, peace:
Where does it authorise such cruelty?
The sacred writings teach us tolerance,
Not persecution.—O! 'twas vilely done,
Thus to pervert a doctrine mild, sublime!
Fair sufferer, be consol'd; your ills are over,
[To Eloisa.
And happiness awaits you.

ELOISA.
Man divine!
Thou art a true celestial comforter!

ABBESS.
Her father, made indignant by her love,
Ill-plac'd and criminal, gave us the right
To hold her in this just captivity,
And force her to repentance.

FENELON.
How! the right?
To see her hourly dying, and derive
A savage pleasure from her bitter groans?
It is a hangman's claim; no longer urge it.

ELOISA.
What soothing accents, what a godlike mind!
Shall I again behold the cheerful sun
Embellish nature with its bounteous beams?
Yes, Fenelon shall bid it shine on me.

FENELON.
Come hither, Eloisa—do not tremble.

ELOISA.
I tremble from respect and gratitude.

FENELON.
I yet may further serve thee.

ELOISA.
Thou art indeed the friend of wretchedness.

FENELON.
Tell all your mind.

ABBESS.
My lord! her reason is disturb'd, I fear;
And her discourse deserves no heed.

ELOISA.
Perchance
You are no stranger to my name, my rank,
The place of my nativity, the ties
Which bind me to a husband!

ABBESS.
Husband! said she?
Then I have been too rash.

ELOISA.
Could you inform me of his destiny,
It would relieve the horrors of suspense,
Which nature scarce can bear. My heart is his,
Faithful as ever, and as tender too.—
My father also, know you of his fate?

FENELON.
Your father is no more—he dy'd repentant.

ELOISA.
May Heav'n forgive him!—Daughter of Delmance, come,
My own Amelia, let us join in pray'r
For our departed parent.

FENELON.
Nay, mourn not thus—
But let us hope that Delmance is not dead.

ELOISA.
I dare not look to such felicity.—
But say, my lord! does there remain a chance
That he may still exist?

FENELON.
Should he be found
Hereafter—have you fortitude to bear
The shock of transport?

ELOISA.
Sure, in that demand,
There breathes a prophecy of joy—Indeed
I could encounter, with a steady mind,
The blissful tidings.

FENELON.
Know, then, Delmance lives.

ELOISA.
Then am I blest at last:
Nor will I ask if still he think on me.
He deem'd me dead—the dead are soon forgotten—
And should he have renew'd the nuptial tie,
I never will disturb him—all my hope
Is once more to behold him, to embrace him,
Give him his child, and die within his arms.

FENELON.
Delmance could ne'er forget the wife he lov'd;
His heart entire is your's.

ELOISA.
Is't long since you have seen him?

FENELON.
No—this day
I spoke with him in Cambray.

ELOISA.
Am I alive?

FENELON.
He's here—O give him welcome!

Enter Delmance, and runs to Eloisa.
DELMANCE.
Eloisa!

ELOISA.
It is himself, I feel him at my heart.

DELMANCE.
Rapture unspeakable!

AMELIA.
He is my father!

ELOISA.
My faithful husband! this, this is your daughter;
She has sav'd your Eloisa; love her well.

DELMANCE.
Sweet maid! receive my blessing.
Dear pledge of true affection, thou shalt prove
Henceforth the comforts of parental care.

AMELIA.
My future life shall be devoted to you.

DELMANCE.
How dare you, baleful woman! wear that garb
[To the Abbess.
Of sanctity?—Detested hypocrite!
I will have ample vengeance.

ABBESS.
I've but obey'd the mandates of our order,
And scorn your menace.

DELMANCE.
Gaze on Eloisa,
Think on her suff'rings!

ELOISA.
I have nothing suffer'd,
For Delmance loves me still—nor speak of vengeance;
We now should only live for tenderness.

FENELON.
Illustrious victim! quit this horrid cave.

AMELIA
(pointing to ISAURA).
My lord! here is another claims your mercy.

ELOISA.
'Twas kind Isaura's care cherish'd my life—

AMELIA.
And sav'd my helpless infancy—

DELMANCE.
O! tell me how I can reward such merit?

FENELON.
Isaura, speak your wishes.

ISAURA.
I request,
If it be not improper, the permission
To leave this wretched cloister, and attend
These friends through ev'ry circumstance of life.

AMELIA.
Death shall alone divide us, dear Isaura!

FENELON.
Your just demand shall be accorded.

ISAURA.
Then
I'm truly happy.—

ABBESS.
Would you, my lord, pretend
To loose the sacred bonds which hold her here?

FENELON.
I do—

ISAURA.
In truth they were th'unrighteous bonds
Of hard compulsion.

FENELON.
Abbess, you have heard
Her sentiments avow'd;—she shall be free;
The vows of rude constraint are never binding.

ABBESS.
'Tis I must answer.

FENELON.
I am responsible.

ABBESS.
Reflect on what you do!

FENELON.
I will inform
The Sovereign Pontiff.

ABBESS.
Will he then absolve
Her solemn contract?

FENELON.
Nature has absolv'd it.

DELMANCE.
O bliss beyond compare—my wife, my daughter!

ABBESS.
Her oath was at the altar.—

FENELON.
Mine, to Heav'n!
I've sworn to comfort the unfortunate,
And raise the fallen.—Eloisa, Delmance,
Amelia, and Isaura, now embrace,
And look to years of fair prosperity.—
For you, my lady Abbess! be assur'd
A signal justice waits your cruelty.
Thus patient Virtue triumphs over vice;
And, in the end, benignant Providence
Exalts the humble, and confounds the base.