 | Gustavus Vasa, The Deliverer of his Country |  |
SCENE III.
Enter Arvida guarded, and a Gentleman.Arv.
Now Fate I'm caught, and what remains is obvious.
Gent.
A Prisoner, good my Lord.
Crist.
When taken?
Gent.
Now, ev'n here, before your Tent;
I mark'd his careless Action, but his Eye
Of studied Observation—then his Port
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But found he was a Stranger.
Crist.
Ha! observe.
(Damn'd Affectation) what a sullen Scorn
Knits up his Brow, and frowns upon our Presence.
What—ay—thou wou'dst be thought a Mystery,
Some Greatness in Eclipse—Whence art thou, Slave?
Silent! Nay, then—Bring forth the Torture there—
A Smile! Damnation!—How the Wretch assumes
The Wreck of State, the suff'ring Soul of Majesty.
What have we no Pre-eminence, no Claim?
Dost thou not know thy Life is in our Pow'r?
Arv.
'Tis therefore I despise it.
Crist.
Matchless Insolence!
What art thou? Speak!
Arv.
Be sure no Friend to thee;
For I'm a Foe to Tyrants.
Crist.
Fiends and Fire!—
A Whirlwind tear thee most audacious Traitor.
Arv.
Do, rage and chafe, thy Wrath's beneath me, Cristiern.
How poor thy Pow'r, how empty is thy Happiness,
When such a Wretch, as I appear to be,
Can ride thy Temper, harrow up thy Form,
And stretch thy Soul upon the Rack of Passion.
Crist.
I'll know thee—I will know thee! Bear him hence!
Why, what are Kings, if Slaves can brave us thus?
Go, Trollio, hold him to the Rack—Tear, search him,
Prove him thro' ev'ry Poignance, sting him deep.
[Exit Trollio with Arvida guarded.
| Gustavus Vasa, The Deliverer of his Country | |