University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

A Chamber in the Palace.
Demetrius and Maria meet.
Mar.
Joy to my son! I press you to my heart.

Dem.
Ah, my thrice honoured mother, now, behold,
Justice has laid blind fortune at your feet,
To make atonement for the wrongs she did.
Restored once more to these imperial walls,
Seat of your ancient splendour, I conjure you
Cast off these sable weeds, and reassume
Your dignity and freedom. Time, that's past,
Hath left a long arrear of happiness
To be discharg'd by time, that is to come.

Mar.
That will demand some caution on my part.
Habits and forms when sanction'd by the church,
Must not be rashly thrown aside and chang'd.

Dem.
We will preserve all reverence for the church,
Nor wound your feelings, nor insult its forms;
But shall the mother languish in a cell,
And the son dwell in palaces? I trust
The church will not impose that form on me.
Nature protests against it.

Mar.
Ah! my son,
He that relies on Nature for his guide,
May be betray'd into unwary steps.
Let Nature call experience to her aid;
Hear what the Patriarch counsels.

Dem.
I revere
The Patriarch as a father and a friend,
I honour him as patron of my right.
But will he tell me not to set you free
From a compell'd restraint? I will not hear
The man, that counsels me to be unjust,
I will enjoy that liberty of soul,
Which teaches gratitude, compassion, love,
And the free exercise of those affections
Whence all the human charities derive.
I've spared Suiski: I have left him free.
Shall I be gentle to my enemy,
And harsh to my own parent? Heaven forbid!

Irene enters.
Iren.
Acknowledged monarch of this mighty realm,
I come, as bound in honour, to avow,
That I have forfeited the word I pledg'd,
And you with generous confidence believ'd,
Suiski has deceiv'd me; he has drawn
Your army from their duty, he advances
Upon your capital, and, having sworn
Allegiance to your person, seeks your life.

Dem.
I am not unprepar'd to meet his treason;
But, pondering in my thoughts the dreadful scenes
Which must ensue, if he persist to bring
Your party to an issue against mine,
Though conscious of my right, I hesitate
And pause upon the word, that must decide
Your fate, and that of thousands in your cause.

Iren.
I have conjured Suiski to desist
From stirring up rebellion in my cause,
And to my ruin—Oh! for mercy's sake,
Let not the crime of spilling guiltless blood
Fall on my conscience: save me from that sin;
Rather than that, at peril of my life,
Set me between the armies ere they join,
And let my abdication be proclaim'd,
And heralded aloud to either host:
Then if Suiski will not sheath the sword,
I stamp him traitor to the nation's peace.

Mar.
Princess, and you my long-lamented son,
If to allay this discord of the time
Be, as I'm sure it is, your generous wish,
And both are with like charity inspir'd
To seek the general peace, and in nothing,
Except in virtue, rivals, what remains
To secure this object, but to join your hands,
And, blest yourselves, resolve to bless mankind,
To spare th' effusion of a nation's blood,
And save your else devoted subjects?

Dem.
Ah, my good politic mother, well I know
'Tis so that marriages are made in courts.
But though the joining of our hands wou'd be
The reconcilement of the nation's feuds,
Irene's hand, without Irene's heart,
Though it gave peace to others, cou'd not give it
To me, who wou'd not fetter her free choice
Were it affianc'd, as I fear it is,
To the worst enemy I have on earth.

Iren.
No enemy of yours can be my choice.

Dem.
No friend of mine can be the foe of peace,
And that Suiski is.

Iren.
I do renounce him.

Mar.
What then remains? Why do ye stand and pause,
And let the Heaven-vouchsaf'd occasion pass,
When the next hour may float your streets with blood?

Dem.
Paint not the peril in such threat'ning terms;
But for my claim, the throne unshar'd by me
Had been Irene's—As for Theodore,
Neither endow'd with talents or ambition,
She wou'd have found the path to glory free.
And what gains she by a divided throne,
Or I, who born to disappoint her hopes,
What do I gain by an unwilling hand,
Whilst she withholds her heart? Rather than check
Her freedom in its course, let come what will
I'll meet it as I may—I will not rule
O'er trembling dastard slaves, nor own a wife
Whose spirit is not tow'ring as my own,
Whose choice no policy directs—But hark!
That warning speaks no courteous visitor.