University of Virginia Library

An Anti-Chamber.
Enter Martia and Camilla.
MARTIA.
Oh Love!
How vainly have I struggl'd with thy Power!
Thy Fires are inextinguishable grown,
And now this wayward inauspicious Night,
Confirms that Conquest thou hast long design'd,
Castruchio's Danger rends my Heart asunder,
And thus too late I find I love him more,
Than Duty, Life or Fame; the fatal Guest
For ever robbs my Bosom of its Rest.

CAMILLA.
Madam, dislodge the Enemy!

MARTIA.
—Dislodge him!
Impossible—I tell thee he commands
In chief my Soul, and lords it like a Victor;
And when I beat but an Alarm, all
The gentle Powers of Love desert to him.
Oh Martia! Where is all thy boasted Greatness?
That haughty Spirit, which was wont to bear
Its towering Thoughts to the sublimest Height,
Now humbled by the little Tyrant Love.

CAMILLA.
Yes, Madam, sunk to almost degenerate Passion,
Is't possible that you can love a Parricide?
And can you join against your Father,
And doat upon his Enemy?
For Heaven—for Nature's Sake,
Forget this shameful unbecoming Weakness,
Not worthy of the meanest Subject.

MARTIA.
Silence thy sawcy Counsel,
And streight devise some speedy Remedy,
To interpose and check the growing Danger,
Which threatens like a lowring Tempest both;
My Faculties are all benum'd with Fear,
And want the Power to act.

CAMILLA.
Can I instruct you when your Reason's fled,
Can I divert a Passion so intent
Upon its own Destruction?

MARTIA.
Why dost thou wreck me with thy dull Delay?
Castruchio is this Minute doom'd to Death:
For ought we know then, all our Hopes are gone;
Oh my Camilla! If thou e're didst love,
The wretched Martia, quick contrive some Means
This Horror to prevent.

CAMILLA.
Restore your Reason to its pristine State,
Let that direct you in the darksome Path,
Whither your Soul is fled—

MARTIA.
I love to that Degree,
I know not what it means.
Reason's a feeble, dull, laborious Beast,
That never leaves the Track, nor mends his Pace,
But Love's a Courser fiery and swift, which
No Bitt can manage till h'as gain'd the Goal.
Therefore conclude—

CAMILLA.
On what—

MARTIA.
—On some Relief
For him I love! Oh Castruchio! Thou
Once preserv'd, freed from th'impending Stroke
That threatens thee with Death! what further
Joys might I not hope for? Oh Camilla!
Give me some Comfort!—

CAMILLA.
—Could you procure
Your Father's Royal Signet, and by Stealth,
This Night convey him out of Naples safe.

MARTIA.
Oh lucky Thought! Then let us fly, Camilla,
Swift as Occasion, or a Lover's Wishes,
To save that God-like Man—And oh ye Heaven's prevent,
A Father's hard inexorable Fury.
Let Myriads of Afflictions fall on me,
I'll bear the Weight with Joy, to set him free.

[Exeunt.
Enter Ronveir alone.
RONVEIR.
Was ever such a sudden Turn of Mischief?
Alphonso and those Slaves, by some curs'd Stratagem,
Have by their Jaylor's Death their own prevented,
And scap'd Alberto's Fury—All goes wrong;
Dardania's fatal Beauty rends my Breast,
My Caution to divert the Tyrant's Passion,
Wholly employs my Thoughts, all other Cares
Of State, of Empire, and of Preservation,
Yield to the mightier Call of powerful Love:
Oh! he's a subtle, a fantastick God,
And can to any Form his Likeness change,
My tough old Heart is burnt by her bright Charms,
Again Dardania swells my shrinking Sinews,
And every Fibre beats with thrilling Anguish,
A Curse upon his doating Love-sick Brain,
The King, the furious King she has enflam'd,
Death to my Hopes, that cuts Imagination,
And makes my tortur'd Expectation dread
The wild Excursions of the hot-brain'd Tyrant.
[Enter Dardania.
Now I must counter-work my own Designs.

DARDANIA.
Oh you too rigid Powers! was ever Wretch
Like me the Sport of Chance?

RONVEIR.
—Take Comfort, Madam—
I am your Oracle—your better Genius,
To bring you Bliss, and chase these Tears away.

DARDANIA.
Art thou then there, thou Minister of Darkness,
I know thee, thou art Pluto's Orator,
And comest to lure me onwards to Perdition.

RONVEIR.
Say, Madam, to your Preservation rather.

DARDANIA.
And am I then so curs'd, to owe to thee
A Blessing—

RONVEIR.
Think on the Loss of all that's dear on Earth
Your native Honour and Castruchio's Life.

DARDANIA.
Hence, Flatterer, hence thou detested Pandar.

RONVEIR.
How, Madam?

DARDANIA.
A Midnight Emissary, that broods Despair,
And nurses Ruin to a great Perfection.

RONVEIR.
By Heaven, you wrong me, fair One,
I come to warn you of approaching Ill,
Before three Hours expire, you must indulge
The sensual Joy of the insatiate King.

DARDANIA.
Avert it, Gods—There Fate
Discharg'd its keenest Arrow on my Soul:
What yet untasted Miseries am I doom'd to?
Did the King send you?

RONVEIR.
He did.

DARDANIA.
Then I am lost beyond the Reach of Hope.
Let every Hour of my sad irksome Life
Accumulated Plagues endure—Want, Scorn,
Pride, Sickness, and the Height of Desperation,
Pursue me with alternate Strokes of Justice.
Blast all the Lustre of these Eyes with Blindness,
Furrow the Lines of this ill fated Face,
Till it become as wrinkled and deform'd
As Envy, Age, Despair or Death can make it,
Let me all these, or worse Afflictions bear:
But oh divert, you Gods, the impending Storm,
That threatens Violation of my Honour.

RONVEIR.
Compose your self, bright Excellence, there's yet
A way to save you from the Tyrant's Lust.

DARDANIA.
—Speak, my good Genius;
Go on; I do conjure thee, say the Means,
And I'll forget thy former Treachery;
Pardon thy Crimes and Insolencies past,
Give the calumniating World the Lie,
And for this one good Deed I'll swear thee honest.

RONVEIR.
—I will preserve you, save you still from Fate,
To bless me for your kind Deliverer.

DARDANIA.
Say how?
Repeat the only Virtue that thy Soul
Could ever boast, speak it aloud, Ronveir,
Till Heaven and Earth with the glad Accents ring,
And ye resounding Orbs in Consort join
To praise thee for this wondrous Act of Goodness.

RONVEIR.
—No more Encomiums, Madam,
Virtue's its own Reward—And that be mine;
You stand upon a Mountain's giddy Ridge,
If either way you leap, 'tis certain Ruin:
Then let not your ungenerous Distrust
Refuse that Hand wou'd guide you into Safety.
Let some remote Part of the Royal Palace
Be for a while your Prison, there conceal'd
You may avoid Alberto's fatal Love;
I will amuse the King, tell him you're fled,
Or rescu'd from my Care by Violence,
Then wait a grateful Opportunity,
To free your Lord, and give you to his Arms.

DARDANIA.
—That Thought
Has damp'd the Risings of my unfledg'd Joy,
Coud'st thou preserve, my Lord, thy Glory then
Wou'd in bright Wreaths of Virtue reach the Skys,
And like Cœcilia's powerful Harmony,
Draw Angels from their high Cœlestial Thrones,
To deck thy Brows with Immortality.

Ronveir leads Dardania in, and returns.
RONVEIR.
solus.
'Tis done, I have her now securely mine,
Her Charms I feel, as early Flowers the Sun
Invigorate and thaw my Icy Veins.
The flowing Blood warms with young Fires my Heart,
And reassumes its long forsaken Seat.
This is a beauteous an immortal Feast,
Jove might transform himself once more to tast,
Neglected, leave his Heaven again, to prove
The more extatick Joy of mortal Love.
[Exit Ronveir.

Enter Martia and Camilla.
MARTIA.
Whither will Love lead my misguided Heart;
How rashly I embarck in a Design
For which the Gods and all good Men will blame me.
Where will this end?—free him I must, and will,
And have procur'd the Means.
'Tis insupportable to fear his Death,
How then would the inhuman Deed distract me?
But shall I save Castruchio for my Rival?
I know he loves her with unbounded Passion,
Regardless of my Pains, he'll find some way
(Perhaps by the Destruction of my Father)
To shield that hated Fair from Violation,
Then turn me off to Infamy and Scorn,
While all their future Hours securely wast,
Bless'd in the Benefit of Martia's Crime.

CAMILLA.
—Unhappy Princess!

MARTIA.
Invention's on the Rack, and must remain
For ever so, or think on some Contrivance,
To make this Robber of my Quiet mine.
Vain are my Hopes, all my Endeavours vain,
I cannot form a Thought to comfort me
With the least flattering Prospect of Success,
Oh my distracted Soul! Aid me, Camilla,
Sooth me with some kind Probability
Of brighter View, or I'm undone for ever.

CAMILLA.
—Since 'tis impossible—

MARTIA.
Impossible indeed to live without him,
If ever I deserv'd thy Care, Camilla,
If thou regard'st thy Mistress's Pray'rs and Tears,
And woud'st preserve her from the lowest Misery
That ever Wretch, curs'd by ill Stars, was doom'd to,
Tell me which Way, what Arts are to be us'd
To make me happy—

CAMILLA.
If you wou'd moderate this Excess of Passion,
And calmly listen to your faithful Servant,
Some Hopes there are—

MARTIA.
—My better Angel, thou
That chearest me with the sweetest Melody
That ever charm'd a dying Love-sick Maid;
Go on—

CAMILLA.
—Some Hopes I say there are, but they depend
On Fortunes wav'ring Smiles, Fortune must crown 'em.
You know Dardania fires your Father's Soul,
Who languishes and dies for her Embraces;
His furious Temper wo'not long endure
The restless Pain of a despairing Passion,
But urge him in few Days to seize by Force
What she denies to supplicating Love.
Her Death may be the fatal Consequence,
Or if she lives, her violated Beauty,
Unworthy of Castruchio's Arms, must cause
A lasting Separation—One thing more remains,
You must deceive Castruchio
With a feign'd Story of her Rape or Death,
And as a Recompense of Liberty,
Which you bestow (then urging high your Love)
Propose to join his Hand in sacred Wedlock,
Eager for Freedom, which alone can give
Means to revenge his Wrongs upon the King,
And press'd by Gratitude, 'tis probable
He may compleat your Wish—I dread th'Event.
But there's no other way, and Heaven befriend it.

MARTIA.
Oh! my Camilla! had I but the Power
To thank thee as I ought, what Eloquence
Wou'd flow from my inimitable Tongue:
Or were I to reward thee to thy Merits,
I must be more than mortal; all the Blessings
That ever Fortune's Favourites receiv'd,
Be doubled on thee, for this grateful Thought.
On then, my Soul!
Let the Prophetic Counsel of Camilla
Arm and inspire thee with a daring Courage,
Of thy ill boading Fears, the Memory loose,
And break thro' all the Dangers that oppose.

[Exeunt.