University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

An Apartment.
Enters Violante alone.
Viol.
Whom shall I look upon without a Blush?
There's not a Maid, whose Eye with Virgin Gaze
Pierces not to my Guilt. What will't avail me,
To say I was not willing;
Nothing; but that I publish my Dishonour,
And wound my Fame anew.—O Misery,
To seem to all one's Neighbours rich, yet know
One's Self necessitous and wretched.

Enter Maid, and afterwards Gerald with a Letter.
Maid.
Madam, here's Gerald, Lord Henriquez' Servant;
He brings a Letter to you.

Viol.
A Letter to me! How I tremble now!
Your Lord's for Court, good Gerald, is he not?

Ger.
Not so, Lady.

Viol.
O my presaging Heart! When goes he then?

Ger.
His Business now steers him some other Course.

Viol.
Whither, I pray you?—How my Fears torment me!

Ger.
Some two Months Progress.

Viol.
—Whither, whither, Sir,
I do beseech you? Good Heav'ns, I lose all Patience.
Did he deliberate this? or was the Business
But then conceiv'd, when it was born?

Ger.

Lady, I know not That; nor is it in the Command
I have to wait your Answer. For the perusing
the Letter I commend you to your Leisure.

[Exit Gerald.

Viol.
To Hearts like mine Suspence is Misery.
Wax, render up thy Trust: Be the Contents
Prosp'rous, or fatal, they are all my Due.
Reads.]

Our Prudence should now teach us to forget,
what our Indiscretion has committed. I
have already made one Step towards this
Wisdom, by prevailing on Myself to bid you
Farewell.

O, Wretched and betray'd! Lost Violante!
Heart-wounded with a thousand perjur'd Vows,
Poison'd with studied Language, and bequeath'd
To Desperation. I am now become
The Tomb of my own Honour: a dark Mansion,
For Death alone to dwell in. I invite thee,
Consuming Desolation, to this Temple,
Now fit to be thy Spoil: the ruin'd Fabrick,
Which cannot be repair'd, at once o'er-throw.
What must I do?—But That's not worth my Thought:
I will commend to Hazard all the Time
That I shall spend hereafter: Farewel, my Father,
Whom I'll no more offend: and Men, adieu,
Whom I'll no more believe: and Maids, adieu,
Whom I'll no longer shame. The Way I go,
As yet I know not.—Sorrow be my Guide.
[Exit Violante.