University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

ALBERTI'S House.
CONSTANTIA and LAURA.
LAURA.
Madam, for Heav'n sake moderate your grief!
Nor let fierce anger prey upon your mind!
With patience wait; a retributive hour
Will amply pay the agonies you feel.

CONSTANTIA.
Preach patience to the winds—to roaring seas,
But not to me!—Comfort I ne'er shall know;
Its healing balm disclaims a wretch like me:
A wretch who caus'd the noblest hero's fall
That e'er with bold atchievements grac'd the field;
For me he's lost, my honour to assert!
Oh! there's distraction in the horrid thought!
It kindles a new Etna in my bosom,
And drives me mad! a prey to wild despair!

LAURA.
Good angels calm the tempest in her heart!

CONSTANTIA.
How!—be refus'd a common suppliant's right!
Admittance, and a hearing from my prince!
In the behalf of his most gallant chief!
To be debarr'd from bidding him adieu!
And taking a last farewel kind embrace!
This to the wives of criminals they grant:
Why am I singled out for such disgrace!
Th'affront is meant to me—thro' Seyfert's malice:
He may afflict—but ne'er shall bend my soul!—

Enter SERVANT,
SERVANT.
Madam, this paper's from Lord Seyfert brought.

CONSTANTIA,
“To Lady Constantia.”
“It is commanded by th'imperial will,
“That in her house Constantia be confin'd,
“And dare not zealous application make
“In vain behalf of the condemn'd Alberti.
“Shou'd she repugnant prove to this decree,
“The Emperor commands without appeal,
“She forthwith to a convent be convey'd,
“In its sequester'd gloom to end her days.”

LEOPOLD.

SEYFERT.

Vain threats to one who's fix'd, resolv'd, already;
[Throws down the paper—Laura takes it up.
I'll fly this town where tyranny resides,
To find a speedy death, or my Alberti—
Relentless holder of an iron sceptre,
In the last moments of thy cruel life,
May th'ear of Heav'n prove deaf as thine to pity—
And barr'd against you be the door of mercy!
But in this world to punish lawless pow'r,
May ceaseless thunder bellow round your walls;
May the keen light'nings shoot in vollies down,
And of your city make one gen'ral blaze!
At which my soul will feel luxurious joy—
When all Vienna is reduc'd to ashes,
Rise! swell! O Danube from thy lowest bed,
And with a foamy torrent sweep away,
That not a relique of its pride remain
To tell posterity that such things were.

LAURA.
Alas! her reason's gone, and madness now prevails!

CONSTANTIA.
Come! let us hasten from these hated walls,
And e'er their ranc'rous hate prevent my flight,
I'll mounted on a whirlwind's friendly wing
O'ertake Alberti, who's the world to me.

[Exeunt.