University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter the King and Seofrid.
King.
No more of these unnecessary Doubts:
Thy cold, thy cautious Age is vainly anxious,
Thy Fears are unauspicious to my Courage,
And chill the native Ardour of my Soul.
This sullen cloudy Sky that bodes a Storm
Shall clear, and every Danger fleet away;
Our Saxons shall forget the present Discord,
And urge the Britons with united Arms;
Hymen shall be aton'd, shall join two Hearts
Agreeing, kind and fitted for each other,
And Aribert shall be the Pledge of Peace.

Seof.
Propitious God of Love, encline his Heart
To melt before her Eyes, to meet her Wishes,
And yield Submission to the haughty Maid.
Thou that delight'st in cruel Wantonness,
To join unequal Necks beneath thy Yoak,
For once be gentle, and inspire both Hearts
With mutual Flames, that each may burn alike.
Oft hast thou ruin'd Kingdoms, save one now;
And those who curst thee, parsimonious Age
And rigid Wisdom, shall raise Altars to thee.

Enter Aribert.
King.
But see he comes, and brings our Wishes with him.
Oh, Aribert! my Soul has long desir'd thee,
Has waited long for thy Relief, and wanted
To share the Burthen which she bears with thee,
And give thee half her Sorrows.

Ari.
Give me all,
Ev'n all the Pain you feel, and let my Truth
Be greatly try'd, let there be much to suffer,
To prove how much my willing Heart can bear,
To ease my King, my Brother, and my Friend.

King.
I know thee ever gentle in thy Nature,
Yielding and kind, and tender in thy Friendship,
And therefore all my Hope of Peace dwells with thee.
For oh! my Heart has labour'd long with Pain,
I have endur'd the Rage of secret Grief,
A Malady that burns and rankles inward,
And wanted such a Hand as thine to heal me.

Ari.
Speak it, nor wound the Softness of my Soul
With these obscure Complainings; speak, my Lord.

King.
First then, this fatal Marriage is my Curse,
This galling Yoak to which my Neck is doom'd,
This Bride—she is my Plague—she haunts my Dreams,
Invades the softer silent Hour of Rest,
And breaks the balmy Slumber. Night grows tedious,
She seems to lag, and hang her sable Wing;
And yet I dread the Dawning of the Morn,
As if some screaming Sprite had shreik'd, and call'd,
Hengist, arise, to Morrow is thy last.

Ari.
A thousand speaking Griefs are in your Eyes,
To tell the Rack within—I read it plain.
But oh! my King, what Prophet could have dreamt
A Turn like this? that Beauty should destroy,
And Love, which should have blest you, curse you most.

King.
Oh! wherefore nam'st thou Love? Can there be Love,
When Choice, the free, the chearful Voice of Nature,
And Reason's dearest Privilege, is wanting?
What cruel Laws impose a Bride or Bridegroom,
On any Brute but Man? Observe the Beasts,
And mark the feather'd Kind; does not the Turtle,
When Venus and the coming Spring incite him,
Chuse out his Mate himself, and love her most,
Because he likes her best? But Kings must wed,
Curse on the hard Condition of their Royalty!
That sordid Slaves may sweat and eat in Peace.

Ari.
'Tis hard indeed!—Would she had never come,
This—

King.
So would I!—but now—

Ari.
Ay! now what Remedy?
When to refuse the Saxon Offa's Sister,
Shall shake your Throne, and make the Name of Hengist,
The famous, the victorious Name of Hengist,
Grow vile and mean in Britain.

King.
Yes, my Brother,
There is a Remedy, and only one.
This proud imperious Fair, whose haughty Soul
Disdains the humble Monarchs of the Earth,
Who soars elate, affects to tread the Stars,
And scorns to mingle but with those above,
Ev'n she, with all that Majesty and Beauty,
The proudest and the fairest of her Sex,
She has the Passions of a very Woman,
And doats on thee, my Aribert.

Ari.
On me!—
What means my Lord? impossible!

King.
'Tis true;
As true, as that my Happiness depends
Upon her Love to thee. My faithful Seofrid
Has pierc'd into her very inmost Heart,
And found thee reigning there.

Ari.
Then all is plain:
My swelling Heart heaves at the Wrong you do me,
And wo'not be represt. Some Fiend from Hell
Has shed his Poison in your Royal Breast,
And stung you with the gnawing Canker, Jealousie.
But wherefore should I seek for Fiends from Hell,
And trace the Malice of the Thought from far,
Since the perfidious Author stands confest?
This Villain has traduc'd me.—

Seof.
By the Soul
Of your victorious Father, Royal Hengist,
My ever gracious, ever honour'd Master,
Much have you wrong'd your faithful Seofrid,
To think that I would kindle Wrath betwixt you,
Or strive to break your holy Bond of Brotherhood.

King.
No, Aribert, accuse him not, nor doubt
His oft, his well-try'd Faith. But cast thy Eyes
Back on thy self, and while I hold the Mirror,
Survey thy self, the certain Cause of Love:
Survey thy youthful Form, by Nature fashion'd
The most unerring Pattern of her Skill;
The Pomp of Loveliness she spreads all o'er thee,
And decks thee lavishly with ev'ry Grace,
That charms in Woman, or commands in Man;
Behold—nor wonder then if Crowns are scorn'd,
And purple Majesty looks vile before thee.

Ari.
Oh! whither, whither would you lead? and why
This Prodigality of ill-tim'd Praise?

Seof.
Were you not all my Royal Master said,
Form'd to enthral the Hearts of the soft Sex,
Yet that she loves is plain, from—

Ari.
Hence, thou Sycophant!

Seof.
Your Pardon, Sir; it has not been my Office
To forge a Tale, or cheat your Ear with Flattery,
Nor have I other Meaning than your Service;
But that the Princess loves you is most true.
Emma, the chief, most favour'd of her Women,
The only Partner of her secret Soul,
To me avow'd her Passion; and howe'er
Her haughty Looks resent the King's Delay,
Yet in her Heart with Pleasure she applauds it,
And would forego, tho' hard to Womankind,
The Pride, high Place and Dignity of Empire,
To share an humbler Fate with princely Aribert.

King.
Why dost thou turn away? wherefore deform
The Grace and Sweetness of thy smiling Youth,
With that ungentle Frown? Art thou not pleas'd
To see the Tyrant Beauty kneel before thee,
Divested of her Pride, and yield to thee
Unask'd a Prize, for which, like Græcian Helen,
The Great Ones of the Earth might strive in Arms,
And Empires well be lost?

Ari.
Are we not Brothers?
We are; and Nature form'd us here alike;
Save that her partial Hand gave all the Majesty
And Greatness to my King, and left me rich
Only in Plainness, Friendship, Truth and Tenderness.
Then wonder not our Passions are the same;
That the same Objects cause our Love and Hate.
You say, you cannot love this beauteous Stranger;
Is not my Heart like yours?

King.
Come near, my Brother;
And while I lean thus fondly on thy Bosom,
I will disclose my inmost Soul to thee,
And shew thee ev'ry secret Sorrow there.
I love, my Aribert; I doat to Death:
The raging Flame has touch'd my Heart, my Brain,
And Madness will ensue.

Ari.
'Tis most unhappy!
But say, what Royal Maid, or Saxon born,
Or in the British Court, what fatal Beauty
Can rival Rodogune's Imperial Charms?

King.
'Tis all a Tale of Wonder, 'tis a Riddle.
High on a Throne, and Royal as I am,
I want a Slave's Consent to make me happy.
Nay more, possess'd of her I love, or Love,
Or some Divinity more strong than Love,
Forbids my Bliss, nor have I yet enjoy'd her.
Tho' I have taught my haughty Heart to bow,
Tho' lowly as she is, of Birth obscure,
And of a Race unknown, I oft have offer'd
To raise her to my Throne, make her my Queen;
Yet still her colder Heart denies my Suit,
And weeping, still she answers, 'Tis in vain.

Ari.
Mysterious all, and dark! Yet such is Love,
And such the Laws of his fantastick Empire.
The wanton Boy delights to bend the Mighty,
And scoffs at the vain Wisdom of the Wise.

King.
Here in my Palace, in this next Apartment,
Unknown to all but this my faithful Seofrid,
The Charmer of my Eyes, my Heart's dear Hope
Remains, at once my Captive and my Queen.

Ari.
Ha! in your Palace! here!—

King.
Ev'n here, my Brother.
But thou, thou shalt behold her, for to thee,
As to my other self, I trust. The Cares
Of Courts, and Tyrant Business draw me hence,
But Seofrid shall stay, and to thy Eyes
[The King signs to Seofrid, who goes out.
Disclose the secret Treasure! Oh, my Aribert,
Thou wo't not wonder what distracts my Peace,
When thou beholdst those Eyes. Pity thy Brother,
And from the Beach lend him thy friendly Hand,
Lest while conflicting with a Sea of Sorrows,
The proud Waves over-bear him, and he perish.

Ari.
Judge me, just Heav'n, and you, my Royal Brother,
If my own Life be dear to me as yours.
All that my scanty Pow'r can give is yours.
If I am circumscrib'd by Fate, oh! pity me,
That I can do no more; for oh, my King,
I would be worthy of a Brother's Name,
Would keep up all my Int'rest in your Heart,
That when I kneel before you (as it soon
May happen that I shall) when I fall prostrate,
And doubtfully and trembling ask a Boon,
The greatest you can give, or I can ask,
I may find Favour in that Day before you,
And bless a Brother's Love, that bids me live.

King.
Talk not of asking, but command my Pow'r.
By Thor, the greatest of our Saxon Gods,
I swear, the Day that sees thee join'd to Rodogune,
Shall see thee crown'd, and Partner of my Throne.
Whate'er our Arms shall conquer more in Britain,
Thine be the Pow'r, and mine but half the Name.
With Joy to thee, my Aribert, I yield
The Wreaths and Trophies of the dusty Field;
To thee I leave this noblest Isle to sway,
And teach the stubborn Britains to obey;
While from my Cares to Beauty I retreat,
Drink deep the luscious Banquet, and forget
That Crowns are glorious, or that Kings are great.
[Exit King.

Manet Aribert.
Ari.
Oh fatal Love!—curst unauspicious Flame!
Thy baleful Fires blaze o'er us like a Comet,
And threaten Discord, Desolation, Rage,
And most malignant Mischief.—Lov'd by Rodogune!
What I!—must I wed Rodogune!—Oh Misery!—
Fantastick Cruelty of Hoodwink'd Chance!
There is no end of Thought—the Labyrinth winds,
And I am lost for ever.—Oh! where now,
Where is my Ethelinda now!—that dear one,
That gently us'd to breath the Sounds of Peace,
Gently as Dews descend, or Slumbers creep;
That us'd to brood o'er my tempestuous Soul,
And hush me to a Calm.

Enter Seofrid and Ethelinda.
Seof.
Thus still to weep,
Is to accuse my Royal Master's Truth.
He loves you with the best, the noblest Meaning;
With Honour—

Ethel.
Keep, oh keep him in that Thought,
And save me from Pollution. Let me know
All Miseries beside, each kind of Sorrow,
And prove me with variety of Pains,
Whips, Racks and Flames: For I was born to suffer;
And when the Measure of my Woes is full,
That Pow'r in whom I trust will set me free.

Ari.
It cannot be—No, 'tis Illusion all.
[Seeing her.
Some mimick Fantom wears the lovely Form,
Has learnt the Musick of her Voice, to mock me,
To strike me dead with Wonder and with Fear.

Ethel.
And do I see thee then! my Lord! my Aribert!
What! once more hold thee in my trembling Arms!
Here let my Days, and here my Sorrows end,
I have enough of Life.

Seof.
Ha! What is this!
But mark a little further.

[Aside.
Ethel.
Keep me here,
Oh bind me to thy Breast, and hold me fast;
For if we part once more, 'twill be for ever.
It is not to be told what Ruin follows.
'Tis more than Death, 'tis all that we can fear,
And we shall never, never meet again.

Ari.
Then here, thus folded in each others Arms,
Here, let us here resolve to die together;
Defie the Malice of our cruel Fate,
And thus preserve the sacred Bond inviolable,
Which Heav'n and Love ordain'd to last for ever.
But 'tis in vain, 'tis torn, 'tis broke already;
And envious Hell, with its more potent Malice,
Has ruin'd and deform'd the beauteous Work of Heav'n:
Else, wherefore art thou here! Tell me at once,
And strike me to the Heart—But 'tis too plain:
I read thy Wrongs—I read the horrid Incest—

Seof.
Ha! Incest, said he, Incest!—

[Aside.
Ethel.
Oh! forbear
The dreadful impious Sound; I shake with Horror
To hear it nam'd. Guard me, thou gracious Heav'n,
Thou that hast been my sure Defence 'till now,
Guard me from Hell, and that its blackest Crime.

Ari.
Yes, ye Celestial Host, ye Saints and Angels,
She is your Care, you Ministers of Goodness.
For this bad World is leagu'd with Hell against her,
And only you can save her.—I my self,
[To Ethel.
Ev'n I am sworn thy Foe, I have undone thee,
My Fondness now betrays thee to Destruction.

Ethel.
Then all is bad indeed.

Ari.
Thou seest it not.
My heedless Tongue has talk'd away thy Life:
And mark the Minister of both our Fates,
[Pointing to Seofrid.
Mark with what Joy he hugs the dear Discovery,
And thanks my Folly for the fatal Secret:
Mark how already in his working Brain,
He forms the well concerted Scheme of Mischief:
'Tis fix'd, 'tis done, and both are doom'd to Death—
And yet there is a Pause—If Graves are silent,
And the Dead wake not to molest the Living,
Be Death thy Portion—die, and with thee die
The Knowledge of our Loves.—

[Aribert catches hold of Seofrid with one Hand, with the other draws his Sword, and holds it to his Breast.
Seof.
What means my Lord?—

Ethel.
Oh hold! for Mercy's sake restrain thy Hand,
[Holding his Hand.
Blot not thy Innocence with guiltless Blood.
What would thy rash, thy frantick Rage intend?

Ari.
Thy Safety, and my own—

Ethel.
Trust 'em to Heav'n.

Seof.
Has then my hoary Head deserv'd no better,
Than to behold my Royal Master's Son
Lift up his armed Hand against my Life?
Oh Prince, oh wherefore burn your Eyes, and why,
Why is your sweetest Temper turn'd to Fury?

Ari.
Oh thou hast seen, and heard, and known too much;
Hast pry'd into the Secret of my Heart,
And found the certain Means of my undoing.

Seof.
Where is the Merit of my former Life,
The try'd Experience of my faithful Years!
Are they forgot, and can I be that Villain!

Ari.
Thou wert my Father's old, his faithful Servant.

Seof.
Now by thy Life, our Empire's other Hope,
O Royal Youth, I swear my Heart bleeds for thee;
Nor can this Object of thy fond Desire,
This lovely weeping Fair, be dearer to thee,
Than thou art to thy faithful Seofrid.
I saw thy Love, I heard thy tender Sorrows,
With somewhat like an anxious Father's Pity,
With Cares, and with a thousand Fears for thee.

Ari.
What! is it possible!

Seof.
Of all the Names
Religion knows, point the most sacred out,
And let me swear by that.

Ari.
I would believe thee.
Forgive the Madness of my first Despair,
[Letting fall his Sword.
And if thou hast Compassion, shew it now;
Be now that Friend, be now that Father to me,
Be now that Guardian Angel which I want,
Have Pity on my Youth, and save my Love.

Seof.
First then, to stay these sudden Gusts of Passion
That hurry you from Reason, rest assur'd
The Secret of your Love lives with me only.
The Dangers are not small that seem to threaten you;
Yet, would you trust you to your old Man's Care,
I durst be bold to warrant yet your Safety.

Ari.
Perhaps the ruling Hand of Heav'n is in it;
And working thus unseen by second Causes,
Ordains thee for its Instrument of good,
To me, and to my Love. Then be it so,
I trust thee with my Life; but oh! yet more,
I trust thee with a Treasure that transcends
To infinite Degrees the Life of Aribert;
I trust thee with the Partner of my Soul,
My Wife, the kindest, dearest, and the truest,
That ever wore the Name.

Seof.
Now Blessings on you—
May Peace of Mind and mutual Joys attend
To crown your fair Affections. May the Sorrows,
That now sit heavy on you, pass away,
And a long Train of smiling Years succeed,
To pay you for the past.

Ari.
It was my Chance,
On that distinguish'd Day when valiant Flavian,
A Name renown'd among the British Chiefs,
Fell by the Swords of our victorious Saxons,
To rescue this his Daughter from the Violence
Of the fierce Soldiers Rage. Nor need I tell thee,
For thou thy self behold'st her, that I lov'd her,
Lov'd her and was belov'd; our meeting Hearts
Consented soon, and Marriage made us one.
Her holy Faith and Christian Cross, oppos'd
Against the Saxon Gods, join'd with the Memory
Of the dread King my Father's fierce Command,
Urg'd me to seek my Ethelinda's Safety,
And hide her from the World. Just to my Wish,
Beneath the friendly Covert of a Wood,
Close by whose Side the silver Medway ran,
I found a little pleasant, lonely Cottage,
A Mansion fit for Innocence and Love,
Had but a Guard of Angels dwelt around it
To keep off Violence—But forc'd from thence—
By whom betray'd—Why I behold her here—
There I am lost—

Ethel.
There my sad Part begins.
It was the second Morn since thou hadst left me,
When through the Wood I took my usual Way,
To seek the Coolness of the well-spead Shade
That overlooks the Flood. On a sear Branch,
Low bending to the Bank, I sate me down,
Musing and still; my Hand sustain'd my Head,
My Eyes were fix'd upon the passing Stream,
And all my Thoughts were bent on Heav'n and thee.
When sudden through the Woods a bounding Stag
Rush'd headlong down, and plung'd amidst the River.
Nor far behind, upon a foaming Horse,
There follow'd hard a Man of Royal Port.
I rose, and would have sought the thicker Wood;
But while I hurry'd on my hasty Flight,
My heedless Feet deceiv'd me, and I fell.
Strait leaping from his Horse, he rais'd me up.
Surpriz'd and troubl'd at the sudden Chance,
I begg'd he would permit me to retire;
But he, with furious, wild, disorder'd Looks,
His Eyes and glowing Visage flashing Flame,
Swore 'twas impossible; he never would,
He could not leave me; with ten thousand Ravings,
The Dictates of his looser Rage. At length
He seiz'd my trembling Hand; I shriek'd, and call'd
To Heav'n for Aid, when in a luckless Hour,
Your faithful Servants, Adelmar and Kenwald,
Came up, and lost their Lives in my Defence.

Ari.
Where will the Horror of thy Tale have End?

Ethel.
The furious King (for such I found he was)
By three Attendants join'd, bore me away,
Resistless, dying, senseless with my Fears.
Since then, a wretched Captive, I deplore
Our Common Woes; for mine, I know, are thine.

Ari.
Witness the Sorrows of the present Hour,
The Fears that rend ev'n now my lab'ring Heart,
For thee, and for my self. And yet, alas!
What are the present Ills, compar'd to those
That yet remain behind, for both to suffer?
Think where thy helpless Innocence is lodg'd;
The Rage of lawless Pow'r, and burning Lust,
Are bent on thee; 'tis Hell's important Cause,
And all its blackest Fiends are arm'd against thee.

Ethel.
'Tis terrible! my Fears are mighty on me,
And all the Coward Woman trembles in me.
But oh! when Hope and never failing Faith
Revive my fainting Soul, and lift my Thoughts
Up to yon azure Sky, and burning Lights above,
Methinks I read my Safety written there;
Methinks I see the Warlike Host of Heav'n
Radiant in glittering Arms, and beamy Gold,
The great Angelick Pow'rs go forth by Bands,
To succour Truth and Innocence below.
Hell trembles at the Sight, and hides its Head
In utmost Darkness, while on Earth each Heart,
Like mine, is fill'd with Peace and Joy unutterable.

Seof.
Whatever Gods there be, their Care you are.
Nor let your gentle Breast harbour one Thought
Of Outrage from the King: His Noble Nature,
Tho' warm, tho' fierce, and prone to sudden Passions,
Is just and gentle, when the torrent Rage
Ebbs out, and cooler Reason comes again.
Should he (which all ye holy Pow'rs avert)
Urg'd by his Love, rush on to impious Force,
If that should happen, in that last Extream,
On Peril of my Life I will assist you,
And you shall find your Safety in your Flight.

Ari.
Oh guard her Innocence, let all thy Care
Be watchful, to preserve her from Dishonour.

Seof.
Rest on my Diligence and Caution safe.
E'er twice the Ruler of the Day return,
To gild the chalky Cliffs on Britain's Shoar,
Some favourable Moment shall be found,
To move the King, your Royal Brother's Heart,
With the sad tender Story of your Loves.
'Till then be chear'd, and hide your inward Sorrows
With well-dissembled necessary Smiles;
Let the King read Compliance in your Looks,
A free and ready yielding to his Wishes.
At present, to prevent his Doubts, 'twere fit
That you should take a hasty Leave, and part.

Ethel.
What! must we part?

Seof.
But for a few short Hours,
That you may meet in Joy, and part no more.

Ari.
Oh fatal Sound! oh Grief unknown 'till now!
While thou art present my sad Heart seems lighter;
I gaze, and gather Comfort from thy Beauty;
Thy gentle Eyes send forth a quick'ning Spirit,
And feed the dying Lamp of Life within me;
But oh! when thou art gone, and my fond Eyes
Shall seek thee all around, but seek in vain,
What Pow'r, what Angel shall supply thy Place,
Shall help me to support my Sorrows then,
And save my Soul from Death?

Ethel.
My Life! my Lord!
What would my Heart say to thee!—but no more—
Oh lift thy Eyes up to that Holy Pow'r,
Whose wondrous Truths, and Majesty Divine,
Thy Ethelinda taught thee first to know;
There fix thy Faith, and triumph o'er the World:
For who can help, or who can save besides?
Does not the Deep grow calm, and the rude North
Be hush'd at his Command? thro' all his Works,
Does not his Servant Nature hear his Voice?
Hear and Obey? Then what is impious Man
That we should fear him, when Heav'n owns our Cause?
That Heav'n shall make my Aribert its Care,
Shall to thy Groans and Sighings lend an Ear,
And save thee in the moment of Despair.

Ari.
Oh! thou hast touch'd me with the sacred Theme,
And my cold Heart is kindled at thy Flame;
An active Hope grows busie in my Breast,
And something tells me we shall both be blest.
Like thine, my Eyes the Starry Thrones pursue,
And Heav'n disclos'd stands open to my View;
And see the Guardian Angels of the Good,
Reclining soft on many a Golden Cloud,
To Earth they seem their gentle Heads to bow,
And pity what we suffer here below:
But oh! to thee, thee most they seem to turn,
Joy in thy Joys, and for thy Sorrows mourn:
Thee, oh my Love, their common Care they make.
Me to their kind Protection too they take,
And save me for my Ethelinda's sake.

[Exeunt Seofrid and Ethelinda at one Door, Aribert at the other.