 | The Christian Hero |  |
SCENE II.
Another Apartment; Stage darken'd; Table and Lamp.Althea discovered.
Al.
Is this a Time and Place for virtuous Love?
This is the Wanton's Hour: Now she forsakes
Her Home, and, hid in Darkness, watches for her Prey:
The Soul, whom Heav'n abhors, falls in her Snares;
And pierc'd with Guilt, as with an Arrow dies.
Yon sickly Lamp, that glimmers thro' my Tears,
Faintly contending with prevailing Darkness,
Spreads o'er the Place a melancholy Gloom,
That sooths the joyless Temper of my Mind.
So a pale Meteor's dull and beamless Flame
To the bewilder'd Traveller appears,
And adds new Horrors to the cheerless Night.
—Is Error then the Lot of all Mankind?
It is, it is—for Scanderbeg is fallen.—
O! what cou'd move him to the rash Attempt?
If he shou'd perish, as the Danger's great,
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How will the Foe, with scornful Triumph, sing,
As a Fool dies, so died this mighty Chief;
His Hands unbound, no Fetters on his Feet,
But as an Ideot by his Folly falls,
So fell the Champion of the Christian Cause.
Enter Mahomet drest like Scanderbeg, fast'ning the door on the Inside.
He's come, and all my Sorrows are compleat.
Are you pursued?—O my prophetick Fears!—
If undiscover'd you have enter'd here,
This Caution's needless; if betray'd, in vain.
Ma.
Of such a Prize who can be too secure?
Al.
'Tis not his Voice—defend me, O defend me,
All gracious Heaven!
Ma.
Dost thou not know me Princess?
Al.
Alas! too well! (Aside.)
Sure you've mistook your way,
Or came perchance to seek some other here;
Howe'er that be, permit me to retire.
Ma.
Mistaken Fair; or is this Ign'rance feign'd?
'Tis you alone I seek. Impetuous Love,
That will not be resisted, brought me here
To lay my Life and Fortune at your Feet.
Al.
Then I'm betray'd, basely betray'd; just Heaven!
Expos'd, perhaps devoted to a Ruin,
From which the Grave itself is no Retreat,
And Time can ne'er repair—Be gracious, Sir,
To an unhappy Maid!—Or I'm deceiv'd,
Or you, my Lord, were pleas'd to mention Love;
Of that, alas! I am forbid to hear;
Compassion better suits my humble State,
That I intreat; have Pity on me, Prince,
Dispel my Fears, and send me from your Presence.
Ma.
Grant what you ask; I need Compassion too:
Your Beauty's necessary to my Peace:
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What else I'll take by Force: Consent to make me
Happy, and in Return, when Time shall give
The Scepter to my Hand, I'll make thee Queen
Of half the conquer'd Globe.
Al.
Know, Impious Prince!
If one loose Thought wou'd buy the whole, I'd Scorn
It at that Price.
Ma.
Then rifled and abandon'd,
Live thou the Scorn both of the World and me.
You have you Choice; I came not here to talk.
Al.
O! what were all my former Woes to this?
Under the Pain of Absence, hard Captivity
And my late Fears, Patience and Fortitude
Were my Support; Patience and Fortitude
Are useless now. Shame and Dishonour are
Not to be born. Father! Aranthes! haste,
And like Virginius preserve your Daughter.
Come Castriot, come, Althea calls thee now
To certain Death, to save her from Pollution.
Ma.
Call louder yet; your Idols do not hear.
Al.
Tho' none shou'd hear, yet Sorrow must complain.
Ma.
Your moving softness fans my am'rous Flame—
No Help can reach thee—All thy Friends are absent;
Wisely comply, and make a Friend of me.
Al.
All are not absent; he whose Presence fills
Both Heaven and Earth; he, he is with me still;
Sees my Distress, numbers my flowing Tears,
And understands the Voice of my Complainings,
Tho' Sorrow drowns my Speech.
Ma.
I'll wait no longer;
Nor ask again for that I've Power to take.
Now you may strive, as I have beg'd, in vain.
Al.
O thou, whose Hand sustains the whole Creation;
Who cloth'st the Woods, the Vallies and the Fields;
Who hear'st the hungry Lion, when he roars;
And feed'st the Eagle on the Mountain's Top;
Shut not thine Ear—turn not away thy Face;
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Or like an absent Friend to the distress'd—
Assist me, save me—only thou canst save me—
O let me not invoke thy Aid in vain.
Am.
(Without.)
Force, force an Entrance.
Ma.
Ha! who dares do this?
[The Door burst open.
Enter Amurath, Visier, Kisler Aga and Guards.
Ma.
Sham'd and prevented! O my cursed Fortune!
Al.
My Prayers are hear'd; let Virtue ne'er dispair.
Vis.
Guard well the Passage.
K. Aga.
Who secures his Sword?
Vis.
Scanderbeg yeild! thou can'st not hope t'escape.
Am.
To fall so meanly after all thy Wars—
Well may'st thou hide thy Face.
Vis.
Blinded by Love,
My Lord, he miss'd his Way.
Am.
True, Osmyn, true:
That poor Excuse for Madness, Vice and Folly,
Is all this mighty Hero has to plead.
—A fair Account of Life and Honour lost.
I hoped not Triumph—Prophet, 'tis too much—
I ask'd but Vengeance—Bring him to my Tent.
When Mirth declining calls for something new,
We'll think upon the manner of his Death.
Ma.
Away, you Dogs! Confusion, Death and Hell!
[Exit.
Al.
They stand agast. Deliverance waits the just,
But short's the Triumph of deceitful Men.
Turn'd on themselves, their own Devices cover
Them with Shame. (Aside.)
[Exit.
Vis.
I'm lost in Admiration!
It is the Prince Mahomet.
Am.
Wonder, Rage
And Disappointment drive me to Distraction.
Kisler Aga, expect to answer this.
K. Aga.
Let not my Lord condemn his Slave unheard.
Amasie, whom I ever thought a Villain,
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I follow'd unperceiv'd, and so dispos'd me
As to o'er hear him: who with many Oaths,
Assur'd Althea, Scanderbeg was come;
Conceal'd by Night, and in his Faith secure,
Once more to see her and repeat his Vows.
Of this I thought myself in Duty bound
T'inform my Royal Master.
Am.
You are clear.
K. Aga.
The Caution us'd to introduce the Prince,
Seem'd to confirm the Truth of what I heard.
Am.
Leave us—Enough; your Conduct merits Praise.
[Exit K. Aga.
Vis.
Th' affrighted Fair is fled to her Apartment.
Am.
Degenerate Boy? thou art my Witness, Allah,
Not so I spent my Youth, and won his Mother;
Tho' much I lov'd, and long I sigh'd in vain.
'Tis vile and base to do a private Wrong:
When Kings, as Kings, do ill; the Office then
Must justify the Man.
Vis.
A Believing Monarch,
Obedient to the Messenger of Heaven,
Can never err.
Am.
Our Prophet, by the Sword,
First taught the stubborn Arabs to believe,
And writ his Laws in Blood.
Vis.
He knew Mankind.
Nay, yet the Priests of all Religions teach,
Whate'er is done to propagate the Faith,
Must from its End, be good.
Am.
Thus do I stand
Acquitted to myself; and Scanderbeg,
Tho' by Assassination, justly falls.
To Morrow's Sun shall shine for me alone.
Yet, O! my faithful Osmin, all's not well:
I know not how, my Spirits kindle not
As they were wont, when Glory was in View.
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Is like the Mirth wrung from a Man in Pain.
Vis.
Guard, righteous Heaven, thy great Vicegerent's Health.
Am.
The Body simpathizes with the Mind;
As that with what we love. My Languor may
Be the Effect of my Hellena's Grief;
I live in her. My Pleasures are improv'd,
My Pains forgot, when I behold her Face;
The tend'rest, fondest, most belov'd of Children.
Vis.
O! what has happen'd, Sir?
Am.
This Evening, Osmin,
When I commanded her to love Amasie;
And look upon him, as her future Lord,
An ashy Paleness spread o'er all her Face,
And gushing Tears bespoke her strong Aversion:
But when t'inhance his Merit I disclosed
The purpos'd Murther of his native Prince;
Had I pronounc'd the Sentence of her Death,
Sure less had been her Terror and Surprize.
Kneeling, she call'd on Heav'n and Earth to witness
Her utter Detestation of the Fact,
And everlasting Hatred of Amasie,
His Person and Design.
Vis.
Unhappy Princess!
To be compell'd to marry where she hates.
Am.
O! she abhors him, loaths his very Name;
Yet still her filial Piety prevail'd;
She hung upon my Neck; pray'd for my Life,
My Honour, my Success; and took her leave
In such endearing Strains, as if she never
Had been to fee me more. Her moving Softness
Melted my old tough Heart—I kiss'd her—sigh'd,
And wept as fast as she. Our mingled Tears
Together flow'd down my shrunk wither'd Cheeks,
And trickled from my Beard—O! shou'd my Thirst
Of Vengeance kill my Child; shou'd she t'avoid
Amasie, fly to Death—what cou'd support me?
[Exeunt.
| The Christian Hero | |