University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Queen and Zenomira.
Q.
Be dumb, vain, busy wretch: Because thou'rt trusted,
Dost thou presume to offer thy advice?
Wou'd'st thou be hated too?

Zen.
Think, royal Madam,
To whom I, undeserving, owe my fortune.
My gratitude—

Q.
A servant's gratitude!—
Consider well your interest and your safety.
Remember I, who made you what you are,
Can make you more, or speak you into nothing.
If Elmerick return the love I proffer,
I shall employ you often: Shou'd he not,
(Do not my eyes dart ruin while I speak it)
My first command in this shall be my last.
Seek him now,
And bring him hither.—No, I see my brother:
Wait in the anti-chamber 'till he's gone,
Then do as I directed.

[Exit Zenomira.
Enter Conrade.
Conr.
Curst be the hour,
When, sated with delight, I quitted Olmutz,
Where all my vows were heard with extasy,
And beauty took its value from my breath,
To meet contempt, despair and death at Buda.
Ismena at this instant leaves the court:
No hope is left, no patience—I'm distracted.
The subtle tyrant Love, who led me long
Through flow'ry paths, and spread elysium round me;
Whose fires, 'till now, serv'd but to heighten pleasure,
And quicken it to transport; has betray'd me
To plagues and torments not to be supported.
Ismena is essential to my being. O Matilda!
Assist me with your counsel, or I'm lost.

Q.
Alas! he knows not it too much imports me.
[Aside.
Do not abandon hope, but leave despair
To fools and cowards. Know, exalted souls
Have passions in proportion violent,
Resistless, and tormenting: They're a tax
Imposed by nature on preheminence,
And fortitude, and wisdom must support them.

Conr.
Who but Matilda e'er cou'd flatter misery,
And prove superior merit from our weakness?
At thy awak'ning voice my hope revives.
Coud'st thou but stop Ismena's purpos'd flight
(And nothing is too hard for wit like thine)
I yet may triumph o'er her pride and virtue.

Q.
By stratagem to keep Ismena here
Can serve no end: When she perceives the fraud,
She'll fly more irritated than before.

Conr.
But I shall see her first.

Q.
What can you hope
From such an interview? while Elmerick
Continues kind, he'll prove too strong a rival.
Her pride and virtue are meet accidents:
She chanc'd to marry where she chanc'd to like;
But should he, touch'd with some new flame, neglect her,
As time is fruitful of more strange events,
Her pride wou'd make her hate him.—You must wait.

Conr.
You talk of ease whole ages hence to one
Stretch'd on the rack of violent desire.
By Heav'n I will pursue to her retreat,
And bear her thence in spite of Father, Husband,
And every sword that dares oppose my purpose.
She shall return to court, she shall behold
And hear my raging love, she shall be mine.

Q.
Forbear such wild and unbecoming thoughts:
The Palatine is Regent, you a stranger,
And I, perhaps, have reasons of my own
To keep his good opinion. If to see her
Within this Palace, with the due respect
You owe her birth and rank, may satisfy
For once your present ardour, I'll assist you.
Love may perhaps inspire your soothing tongue
With eloquence to soften, and persuade
The melting Fair to break her resolution,
And hear at least, if not return your Love:
The firmest purpose of a Woman's heart
To well-tim'd, artful flattery may yield.

Conr.
And shall I see again my lov'd Ismena?
Oh say what pow'r, what art can bring her hither?

Q.
Belus, chief secretary to the Regent,
Shall be, unknowingly, a proper agent:
He has been Zenomira's lover long—
But see she comes, she must not see you now:
Trust in a sister's love, and wait th'event.

[Exit Conrade.
Enter Zenomira.
Zen.
Madam, my Lord the Regent will attend you.

Q.
Is Belus still thy lover, Zenomira?

Zen.
So he professes, Madam.

Q.
Then shou'd you feign a message from his Lord,
He'd not distrust you?

Zen.
His believing passion
Ne'er yet has seem'd to doubt whate'er I utter'd.
What must I say?

Q.
Say that her Lord intreats
Ismena, some time hence, to meet him here.
I think she has conceiv'd some slight disgust
Which I wou'd fain remove. This artifice
I shall so well account for when I see her,
You and your lover shall incur no blame.

Zen.
What dangers wou'd I meet, cou'd I improve
Your friendship for that Lady! May I hope
Your thoughts of Elmerick are chang'd already?

Q.
[Exit Zenomira.
Enter Elmerick.

Elm.
I serve the King,
I serve the publick, Madam, serving you:
My pride and joy is to attend your person.

Q.
And are you pleas'd, most noble Elmerick,
To hear a woman's talk, and sooth my cares?
But you are wond'rous good: And let me boast
That I've a heart susceptible of kindness,
In all its various forms, ev'n to a fault.

Elm.
How infinitely bountiful is Nature?
Giving such softness to the pleasing sex,
As well rewards the toils she lays on ours.
If we excel, 'tis when the glorious hopes
Of serving or delighting you inspire us;
And to obtain your smiles is to be happy.

Q.
If happiness be in our pow'r to give,
'Tis hard to want the blessings we bestow:
To love and to be lov'd is to be happy.

Elm.
Your sex by nature form'd to merit love,
Can rarely want it.

Q.
Possibly the brave,
Who hate ingratitude, wou'd not despise
A lady who renounced her native pride,
The painful'st proof our sex can give of love.

Elm.
A generous man must think it double grace,
When love and virtue condescend to chuse him.

Q.
My Lord, shou'd fate reduce some hapless woman,
Trembling and almost dying with confusion,
To make an offer of her love to you;
And such a love as instant death or madness
Were certain to ensue, shou'd you refuse it;
How wou'd you act? How treat a suppliant heart,
Whose weakness you had caus'd?

Elm.
Your pardon, Madam;
'Tis what I can't suppose, and asks no answer.

Q.
Why not suppose? Is it impossible?
Say—I—shou'd love; and trusting to your honour,
Have laid this fair occasion in your way
To break my fall, and spare me half my shame.

Elm.
What vanity
Have I betray'd, what baseness, what presumption,
To need so strange a trial? If you doubt
My loyalty, and think I entertain
Designs injurious to my Sov'reign's honour,
And your fair virtue—

Q.
'Tis too much, my Lord,
This diffidence, this cold reserve—You urge me
To what I wou'd avoid, beyond the bounds
I had prescrib'd myself: Yes, I cou'd die
Ere speak more plain; but must not have you think
I wou'd betray you. Heavens! what feign a passion
My soul ne'er knew! No, rather let me bear
Your utmost cruelty, your scorn and hatred,
For what I am, a lost unhappy Queen,
Than once be thought so mean and so perfidious.

Elm.
Confounded and amaz'd, my fault'ring tongue
Scarce does its office.—Whither wou'd you urge me?
'Tis too severe a proof!—As you are fair;
As charms like yours, may warm the coldest heart,
And shake the most resolv'd; what if my senses
Should mutiny against my weaker reason,
And tempt me to betray you,—horrid thought!—
To sure and endless ruin!

Q.
What do you see
That looks like ruin here?

Elm.
Guilt:—That is ruin.

Q.
Why be it so, your love shall make it glorious.

Elm.
No, shame and just remorse must still pursue
Foul, trust-betraying love. And shou'd I say
Ev'n that were in my power, I must deceive you.
Shou'd wild desire, in an unguarded moment,
Rifle your charms, and lay your virtue waste;
The first return of thought wou'd bear me back
To her, who claims me by the dearest ties
Of virtuous, grateful love. Oh then return,
With recollected powers o'ercome this weakness,
And rise more glorious from this short decline.

Q.
This short decline!—No, let victorious love
Here end a Queen's confusion, or your scorn
Sink my despairing and indignant soul
Where calm repose and hope shall never find it,
And your repentance come too late to save me.

Elm.
I must assert your honour and my own.
Remember who I am, my trust, and office—
Almighty power! Shall I who bear the sword
To punish bold offenders, break the laws
Your providence has call'd me to defend?
Doth the least subject look to me for justice,
And shall my King, my ever-gracious master,
In recompence for his unbounded favour,
Receive the highest, most opprobrious wrong
A King or man can suffer?

Q.
Shame and ruin!

Elm.
Not to deceive you, Madam, not to flatter
Views so unworthy of yourself and me;
I must avow the ample power I hold,
Each thought, each toil, my life, devoted all
To gratitude and justice.

Q.
Enough my Lord—your gratitude has charm'd me—
Who shall oppose your justice? Here display it:
Rise by my ruin to the height of glory,
And let fame deaffen the astonish'd world
With your triumphant virtue.

Elm.
I wou'd triumph
But o'er your weakness, not your peace and fame:
So may you triumph too.—Oh hear me, Queen—

Q.
I have heard too much,
I've heard my love refused.—Death! horror!—shame
And burning indignation!—Pierce my heart,
Dispatch me, give me death. Is that too much?—
Is pity to the wretched, is compassion
Of every kind among the hateful crimes
The gen'rous, valiant Elmerick abhors?—
Then give me this, afford the means of death,
And leave me to apply them.

[Going to seize his sword.
Elm.
Heavens! what frenzy
Possesses you!—Yet hear me—

Q.
Off, be gone,
And let me die!

Elm.
Safe as my soul the secret
Shall be preserv'd.

Q.
What! be oblig'd to you!—
Owe my precarious honour to your silence!—
But keep your sword, I shall not want even that—

Elm.
She is not to be trusted with her life—
Royal, unhappy Fair, what can I say
To calm this raging tempest in your bosom?
For though I dare not be, what you must hate,
False to my trust and Sov'reign; I wou'd die
To save your life and honour, to restore
Your peace of mind, and raise declining virtue—
Enter Conrade.
Shame and confusion!—Madam, see, the Prince—

Conr.
Well may'st thou start, proud Lord: The Queen's disorder,
And your confusion, must import some rudeness.

Q.
Rudeness!—that word suggests an happy thought—
Yes, let despair and shame give way to vengeance.
[Aside.
O brother! if I dare to call you brother
After the vile indignity I've suffer'd;
That wretch, presuming on his boundless power,
Has talk'd to me of love.

Elm.
What can I answer?
When accidents concur with calumny,
Her pois'nous breath obscures the brightest fame,
And conscious virtue only can support us.

Conr.
I saw and heard too much. The traitor's life
Is a mean sacrifice.

Elm.
To plead my cause
Before a judge like thee, were mean and vain;
Yet be advis'd, young Prince, nor rashly draw
A sword that can't avail you.

Q.
Will you hear him?
Think on the affront done to our royal house:—
Remember who he is, think on Ismena:
Who, if he 'scapes your sword, is lost for ever.

[To Conrade.
Conr.
Then love inspire me.

[They fight.
Q.
Ah! my brother!—
Elmerick has th'advantage.

[Conrade disarm'd.
Elm.
Take your life,
Young Prince. The false appearance that misled you,
Withholds my hand from punishing your rashness;
But as the King's authority lives in me,
It may be fatal to repeat these insults,
Which nor my spirit, nor my place will bear.
Remember you are warn'd. For you, proud Queen,
I pity and forgive your groundless hatred,
And still have that attention to your happiness,
To wish, even from my soul, you wou'd review,
With an impartial eye, our different conduct.
Wou'd you atone for error, make it short;
Reproach yourself, and use this as a motive,
That he, whom you have wrong'd, scorns to reproach you.
[Exit Elmerick.

Q.
Most exquisite! Legions of plagues and curses!
Has Heaven nor Hell no vengeance in reserve,
No bolts to strike, no light'ning to consume
This overbearing traitor; who has dar'd
To talk of wrongs, reproach, and teach us fear!

Conr.
Vain of th'advantage fortune gave him o'er me,
He us'd me with the last indignity,
Gave me my life in scorn, check'd, rated, threaten'd.—
But may my sword ne'er do me right in battle,
May I be blasted with a coward's name,
If I forget to pay him this foul outrage
With double weight of vengeance.

Enter Zenomira.
Zen.
Madam, Ismena—

Q.
Ha!—Ismena, say'st thou!—
Say, Zenomira, that her Lord expects her.

[Exit Zenomira.
Conr.
Ismena in my power! O Fortune, Fortune!
From this blest hour I'll worship none but thee.
I might have rack'd my thoughts in vain for ages,
And ne'er have found the thousandth, thousandth part
Of this complete, this most luxurious vengeance.

Q.
Revenge, thou com'st too sudden;
And risest to my view in such a form,
So shocking, so tremendous, that my soul
Shrinks back with horror now I shou'd embrace thee.—
I justify thy scorn, proud Elmerick,
By this degenerate pity.—Let it be—
The haughty Regent's heart shall know such anguish,
That his complaints shall move ev'n Fiends to pity,
And vengeance to repent.—Retire, my Conrade,
And watch till I have sent Ismena hence.
[Conrade retires.
I am so lost, that only horror, ruin,
Can cover my disgrace.

Enter Ismena looking round.
Ism.
Lord Elmerick not here!—
Have my unheeded steps mistook their way?—
The Queen!—and deep in thought!

Q.
She has not wrong'd me—
But misery is cruel and remorseless.

Ism.
Forgive me, gracious Queen, if I am rude,
In vent'ring thus to press on your retirement;
I was inform'd Lord Elmerick was here.

Q.
Yes,—no,—he was—Good Heavens! how shall I frame
My tongue to this vile office.

[Aside.
Ism.
Are you well?—
Pray, Heaven preserve the Queen!—You're strangely alter'd
—The blood forsakes your cheeks—you start, and tremble.

Q.
You'd see your Lord, seek him in those apartments.

Ism.
For that I came; but dare not leave you thus.

Q.
It was a short disorder, and 'tis past—
Go, you're expected—
[Exit Ismena.
She is gone, and ruin,
Inevitable ruin meets her there.
The mean, perfidious, barb'rous task is done.
My heart is adamant, or Heaven-born pity
Had melted my resentments. Poor Ismena!
To be so plac'd by fate, that love or vengeance
Cou'd find no passage to the stubborn breast
Of Elmerick, but through thy breaking heart.