 | Lucretia |  |
Scene.—An Apartment of the Castle.
Enter Orlando, with three Ruffians.
Orlando.
Nearer—Ye say ye've wrought your minds to this?
1st Ruf.
We have, my Lord! and are not us'd to flinch.
Orl.
Then look for larger payment as ye thrive.—
Some five miles hence, within the forest precinct,
She must be still upon the broadest path;
And quick dipatch will bring you with her there:
Old Mark, who came to tell of her arrival,
Is gone to meet her; but before he makes
The shorter path to join the greater road,
Ye may o'ertake her long; for fleeter Barbs
Are not on English ground, than are the three
That only wait your mounting,
2d Ruf.
Let's away.
Orl.
Here, Hugo! With her is a youth unarm'd;
Her Paramour; I saw them close embrac'd—
Dispatch him too.
3d Ruf.
My Lord, he shan't escape.
(Exeunt Ruffians.
Orlando
alone.
So much for that—Why let them call it murder.
When noble souls goaded by great Ambition,
Perceive the path that leads the tow'ring wish
Cross'd by some futile life, superfluous air,
They give the bubble vent, and pass along.
Yet what's Ambition to the goad I feel!
This step secures my bliss:—Yet should they fail,
I'll bring religion to my aid—the Church—
For Popes and Monks can sanctify each act,
And mar the possibility of guilt.
Enter Magdeline.
Mag.
What is't disturbs your breast? Is ought amiss?
Orl.
Oh woman! what a source of joy art thou!
The heav'nly refuge from all mortal care!
Delicious antidote of venom'd thought!
Syren! that draws us headlong into bliss.
Mag.
I hope, my Lord, you think no evil of me:
I would not for my life so bear myself,
As to be charg'd with semblance of a Syren.
My Lord! you're ill; and gaze most wildly on me:
Indeed, indeed, you fright me very much.
Orl.
Gaze on thee! I could gaze for ever—
Thus Appius gaz'd upon the Roman maid,
And struck at Justice for the bliss he hop'd—
Thus gaz'd young Tarquin on the Roman dame,
And lost his kingdom for the pleasing transport—
Thus gaz'd Atrides on the Trojan slave,
And with Achilles' wrath prolong'd the war—
Thus ever gaz'd the God of Love, and thus—
Mag.
My Lord! I do not comprehend your words,
I scarce can stand, and my heart palpitates.
Orl.
Thy heart now pants with overwhelming Love.
Mag.
It pants with fear to see you thus, my Lord!
Whither, oh! whither are my parents fled?
Oh send me, send me to their rev'rend arms;
Where I could live most humble and content.
For Love is not a stranger to my heart:
I know it well, and cannot yield, Orlando!
To be deceiv'd, and call a demon Love.
For Love is calm, is joy, is brightness all;
Attends the wishes of the object lov'd,
And swiftly flies to execute the wish;
Then sits repos'd, and meditating good;
But never looks as ready to destroy.
Orl.
Perverse fatality! this very pureness
But heaps the fuel on, and fires me more.
Mag.
My Lord! how very strange it doth appear
To leave our friends, and now the hour of parting;
I came to urge you back.
Orl.
Lead, lead the way:
If Love be such, Nature is then a Demon.
(Exeunt.
Enter Orlando, with three Ruffians.
Orlando.
Nearer—Ye say ye've wrought your minds to this?
1st Ruf.
We have, my Lord! and are not us'd to flinch.
Orl.
Then look for larger payment as ye thrive.—
Some five miles hence, within the forest precinct,
She must be still upon the broadest path;
And quick dipatch will bring you with her there:
Old Mark, who came to tell of her arrival,
Is gone to meet her; but before he makes
The shorter path to join the greater road,
Ye may o'ertake her long; for fleeter Barbs
Are not on English ground, than are the three
That only wait your mounting,
2d Ruf.
Let's away.
Orl.
Here, Hugo! With her is a youth unarm'd;
Her Paramour; I saw them close embrac'd—
Dispatch him too.
150
My Lord, he shan't escape.
(Exeunt Ruffians.
Orlando
alone.
So much for that—Why let them call it murder.
When noble souls goaded by great Ambition,
Perceive the path that leads the tow'ring wish
Cross'd by some futile life, superfluous air,
They give the bubble vent, and pass along.
Yet what's Ambition to the goad I feel!
This step secures my bliss:—Yet should they fail,
I'll bring religion to my aid—the Church—
For Popes and Monks can sanctify each act,
And mar the possibility of guilt.
Enter Magdeline.
Mag.
What is't disturbs your breast? Is ought amiss?
Orl.
Oh woman! what a source of joy art thou!
The heav'nly refuge from all mortal care!
Delicious antidote of venom'd thought!
Syren! that draws us headlong into bliss.
151
I hope, my Lord, you think no evil of me:
I would not for my life so bear myself,
As to be charg'd with semblance of a Syren.
My Lord! you're ill; and gaze most wildly on me:
Indeed, indeed, you fright me very much.
Orl.
Gaze on thee! I could gaze for ever—
Thus Appius gaz'd upon the Roman maid,
And struck at Justice for the bliss he hop'd—
Thus gaz'd young Tarquin on the Roman dame,
And lost his kingdom for the pleasing transport—
Thus gaz'd Atrides on the Trojan slave,
And with Achilles' wrath prolong'd the war—
Thus ever gaz'd the God of Love, and thus—
Mag.
My Lord! I do not comprehend your words,
I scarce can stand, and my heart palpitates.
Orl.
Thy heart now pants with overwhelming Love.
Mag.
It pants with fear to see you thus, my Lord!
Whither, oh! whither are my parents fled?
Oh send me, send me to their rev'rend arms;
Where I could live most humble and content.
152
I know it well, and cannot yield, Orlando!
To be deceiv'd, and call a demon Love.
For Love is calm, is joy, is brightness all;
Attends the wishes of the object lov'd,
And swiftly flies to execute the wish;
Then sits repos'd, and meditating good;
But never looks as ready to destroy.
Orl.
Perverse fatality! this very pureness
But heaps the fuel on, and fires me more.
Mag.
My Lord! how very strange it doth appear
To leave our friends, and now the hour of parting;
I came to urge you back.
Orl.
Lead, lead the way:
If Love be such, Nature is then a Demon.
(Exeunt.
| Lucretia | |