University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Antonius discovered on a Couch, Sapritius, Eumillius, and a Physician.
Sap.
So deeply Nature pleads for this rash Boy,
That I would give my All, my self to save him,
And die contented in a wretched State.
Search then, turn o'er the Volumes
Of your mysterious Æsculapian Science,
And try what Physick can for his Recovery.
To give thee Recompence, I would account
The World's vast Mass of Treasure but a Trifle
Unworthy thy Acceptance, as a Reward.

Phys.
Whatever Art can do, my Lord, I promise;
But his Distemper seems so strongly armed
With some pernicious, secret Melancholy,
That I much fear the Grave will mock our Labours.

Eum.
I have been his Keeper since his Illness,
With such a watchful Care, as I have seen
My Mother take over my younger Years;
And from my Observation, sure I find
It is a Woman must be his Physician.

Sap.
A Woman! what occasion for a Woman?
That Sex were never more esteem'd for Physick,
Than they were despis'd for Mischief:
My Son has no occasion for a Midwife,
He is not Pregnant.

Eum.
Stand by his Pillow
Some little while, and in his broken Slumbers
You'll hear him call aloud on Dorothea.
Then passionately spreading ope' his Arms,
He closes 'em, and falls into a Slumber,
Pleas'd with the feign'd Embraces of his Love.
Physicians but torment him his Disease
Laughs at their Attempts to gain him Health:
Let him but hear the Name of Dorothea,
Nay but the Name, he starts from off his Couch,
And his weak Spirits seem to gain new Life.
She, or none, cures him; and how that can be,
The Princess strict Commands to the contrary,
Barring their Personal Speech,
Does seem to me Impossible.

Sap.
Impossible! it cannot, shall not be so:
My self will bring her hither in an Instant.
I had rather cease to live, than lose my Son.
Comfort him yet a while, 'till my return,
Which shall be very soon.
[Exit Sap.

Ant.
O I am Sick to Death; he gripes me hard,
And his cold Hand already seize my Heart.
I can't support my feeble shaken Form
Under this tiresom Load of Pain and Grief.
Farewel to Love, and Life, and Dorothea.

Eum.
She's here; be happy and possess her, Sir.

Ant.
Where, O you Powers, is that Angelick Form?
[Starting.
What, dost thou mock me too? I would have thought
Better of thee, who call'st thy self my Friend.

Eum.
Why should you think that I am not your Friend?

Ant.
Because thou mak'st thy Sport of my Misfortunes.
I see 'tis in thy Nature too, Eumilius,
Like the whole Race of Man, to be perfidious.
Man! that Superior Lord of the Creation,
With such Perfections form'd, and so endow'd
With Knowledge, Reason, Sense, desire of Glory,
So basely is degenerate from his Sire,
That liv'd in Ages past; you scarcely now
Shall find a Man that differs from a Brute,
Only in that Form erect, which he disgraces.
For Avarice, Lust, Perfidiousness, and Pride,
Has so possess'd the World, that he who now
Dares to be honest, shall be pointed at,
And made the Scorn of every Knave and Fool.

Eum.
Yet, my good Lord, some worthy Men there are,
Who you must own to be both brave and virtuous.

Ant.
But they are so few,
That in a thousand you shall scarce find one.
For all Men now are either Fools or Knaves:
Why should I wonder then, henceforth I will not,
Nor trust a Man, tho' he pretends to Friendship.

Phys.
Let me entreat you, Sir, to take your Bed.

Ant.
Can you procure me Rest?
For who would Groan away his Life like me?
What is thy Practice? Physick? Curse upon thee,
Thou art sworn Enemy to Life and Health,
And deal'st in Poison to destroy Mankind.
Why am I plagu'd with this damn'd ill-look Knave;
This meagre, hungry, cheating, silly Rogue;
This Moutebank, who wou'd even shame the Gibbet?
Eumillius, send him hence.

Eum.
Good, my Lord, be your self.

Ant.
How can it be?
Am I not mangled in a thousand pieces?
There moves my Head, my wretched Body's here,
And Dorothea has my Soul with her.

[Lies down.
Eum.
Pray, Sir, retire; you do but discompose him.

Phys.
I shall obey you, Sir.
[Exit Phys.

Enter Sapritius hastning in Dorothea.
Sap.
Follow me, Sorceress;
And let thy Magick now
Rescue thy snaky Locks out of my Hand.

Ant.
Oh!

Sap.
Art thou not sick, my Son?

Ant.
To Death.

Sap.
Wou'dst thou recover?

Ant.
Wou'd I live in Bliss?

Sap.
Why do thy Eyes shoot Daggers at the Man,
That brings thee Health?

Ant.
Health is not in the World.

Sap.
Behold, see here,
The Spoils, thy Spoils, thy Passion hunts for.
I descend to a base Office, and become thy Pander,
In offering to procure thee this for Health;
If she denies, force her; Jove give thee Strength.
Imagine thou assault'st a guarded Town.
Come, come, my Son; how coy this Strumpet looks?
Come this way Sir—

[Retires with Eumillius.
Dor.
What is the horrid Purpose of your Soul?
Yet sure, from you I cannot dread a Danger.

Ant.
Indeed you cannot;
I love too much, ever to injure
So heav'nly a Form.

Sap.
Plague o'your Forms.

[Observing 'em at the Entrance.
Ant.
Alas! I wou'd not for the Roman Empire,
Give the least Wound to thy celestial Virtues;
Yet let me tell thee, 'tis my Father's Will,
That I by Strength shou'd force thee to Compliance
With what thy Soul abhors; but sure I will not;
No; sooner shall the solid Earth we move on
Be crush'd to nothing, shaken into Atoms,
And Nature's self be in wild Chaos lost.

Dor.
Eternally be happy for this Language.

Re-enter Sapritius, and Eumillius.
Sap.
Be happy!
Be a Slave, a blockish Idiot;
But I will teach thee to repent thy Sorcery,
Wou'd I had Strength, my self wou'd force from thee
Those boasted Virtues, which are made the Idols
Of thy accursed Worship.

Eum.
For Heav'n's sake, Sir, disturb him not in Death.

Sap.
Phlegmatick, cold Bastard;
For by my Father's Urn, thou art not my Son.
One Spark of me, when I had Youth as thou hast,
By this had fir'd my Breast: Go, be gone, I say,
I'll find a way to make this Hag repent her.
Be gone, I say; Eumillius, lead him hence,
And let him perish, if he will, I care not.

Ant.
And must we part?
O yet one Moment let my closing Eyes
Behold the Object that my Soul delights in;
But one short Moment, and I go content
In Death to close 'em, and eternal Rest.

Sap.
Urge me no further, on thy Life.

Ant.
Farewel! my Love! my Life—

[Ex. Ant. Eum.
Sap.
Who waits—
Enter Captain of the Guards.
Command a Slave to me.

Cap.
I shall, my Lord—

[Exit.
Sap.
Now I will teach thee
A Trade which thou may'st practise;
A pleasing, easie Trade, fit for thy Witchcrafts.
Enter Captain and a Slave.
O, come Sir, you appear a sturdy Rogue,
Fit for my Purpose, you have a Carcass form'd
With Bones, and nervous Strength enough:
Harkee; What Countryman are you?

Slave.
A Britain.

Sap.
Britain, in the West-Ocean?

Slave.
Yes, an Island.

Sap.
Ay, 'tis the same, I know it.
Of all our Roman Conquests none comes near it,
For Drinking and for Whoring. Sirrah, Fellow,
What wou'd you do to gain your Liberty?

Slave.
I wou'd fight naked with a hungry Lion;
Venture to pluck a Standard from the heart
Of an arm'd Legion; for Liberty I would
Bestride a Rampart, bid Defiance
Even in the Face of Death.
To shake my Chains off,
Which cou'd not be perform'd but by your Death,
Stood you upon this Flat, I on a Rock
Or Mountain's Precipice too high for Sight,
Down wou'd I leap, and Sacrifice my Life,
Or gain my wish'd-for Liberty, with Honour.

Sap.
Well said: but I'll enjoin an easier Task;
Observe me, 'tis a Work that you delight in,
A common thing within your Albion Isle.
Drag from my sight this Hag, and ravish her,
And doing this your Liberty is gain'd.

Slave.
And ravish her! no! you mistake me, Sir,
As much as you mistake our British Tempers;
I scorn my Liberty at such a Price.
Command a Roman do it; for us Britains,
Even the meanest Britain of us all,
Regard Humanity and Honour more.
Tho' I'm a Slave, I scorn your Roman Arts,
Contemn you villanous Customs, and despise
The worst of all your Cruelties.

Sap.
Art thou so daring?

Slave.
I am a Britain!

Dor.
Almighty Heav'n reward thy virtuous Soul:

Sap.
Confound you all.
Gods! I cou'd tear my Heart to be thus brav'd;
Hence with him from my sight,
And hang him instantly.

Slave.
Thou art more a Slave, than I.

[Ex. Capt. Slave.
Sap.
Thou Hag, I will torment thee
To that Excess, thou shalt desire to die,
And be deny'd the Grace.
Thou shalt linger out thy hated Days in Torments,
Beyond the Pangs of Death.

Dor.
Poor Man, thou hast my Pity.

Sap.
So will I torture thee,
The damn'd themselves shall start to hear thy Groans.

Dor.
Ha, ha, alas!

Sap.
What, am I scorn'd, and brav'd?
Command ten Indian Slaves, and let 'em satisfie
Their lustful Appetites: Where are you all?
Shall I be disobey'd? O I cou'd tear thee
Into a thousand Pieces, but that my Age
Deprives me of the Strength,
And makes me sink, opprest with many Years.

[Throws himself on the Couch.
Enter Theopilus, and Captain of the Guards.
Theo.
Where's my Lord Governor?
What means all this, thou Devil of thy Sex?
This is thy Witchcrafts.

Dor.
How can I help
His Passion hurrying him beyond his Reason?
He draws Heav'n's Vengeance on his Head himself;
I pity him, wou'd I had Power to help him.

Theo.
Assist me, Sirs,
And let us raise him up.

Sap.
Who art thou?

Theo.
My Lord.

Sap.
Theopilus?

Theo.
How does your Lordship?

Sap.
Blasted! bewitch'd!
Depriv'd of all my Senses
By that accursed Woman; seize her,
And bear her from my Sight to Racks and Tortures,
Pull from her Limbs her Flesh.
Mangle her! burn her! damn her! any thing,
So I am rid of her; bear her away,
Into the River throw her hated Ashes,
That the least Dust of her be seen no more.
Theopilus, see it done. If I have Strength
I'll follow thee my self.

[Exit, led off. Exeunt omn.
SCENE Changes.
Enter Antonius, and Eumillius.
Ant.
Here let me rest, for I can go no farther:
My Pilgrimage of Life is near its End.
On this low Floor, kind Nature's humble Couch,
I'll lay me down. [Lies down.]
Sure here
I am secure from the Insults of Fortune.
O! how happy
Were the first Mortals, who enjoy'd their Loves,
When Culture was the Business of Man's Life;
When burning Jealousie had no Existence,
Nor Avarice, nor Ambition, found a Name!
Their Canopy, a cool and peaceful Shade;
A Mossie Turf their Bed, and for a Pillow
A Tuft of Flowers wixt with matted Grass;
Their Garments were even Innocence it self,
For they had nought to fear, nor knew no Shame.
O my dear Friend, that was a golden Age.

Eum.
Take Comfort, good my Lord,
I will assist you hence.

Ant.
No, here I mean to make my last Aboad,
For thro' this Place the Life of all my Joys,
And Darling of my Soul, my Dorothea,
Must pass to Execution, to confront
The terrifying Visage of pale Death,
And meet his heavy Hand.
O let me then, while yet my Life remains,
Take my last Farewel of the World and Love;
For she being gone, the bright celestial Sun
To me is Comfortless, and dark as Night.

Eum.
Strange Affliction!

Ant.
Nay, weep not Friend.
Tho' Tears of Friendship are a sovereign Balm
Against the Ills of Life, yet upon me
They are ineffectual, and thrown away.
The Angry Fates have finish'd their Decree,
Both I, and Dorothea, must expire
In the same fatal period of Time.

Eum.
I wonder, Sir,
That you who must partake of all her Torments,
Will be a Witness of the dreadful Scene,
That makes your wish'd Recovery more uncertain.

Ant.
Recover! no: expect not that at all;
For 'tis in vain to hope, or to expect it,
Because it cannot be; for I must die.
Perhaps the kind Affection I have shown her,
Will, e'er the fatal Blow shall end her Days,
Enforce her Tongue to give me a kind welcome,
To sleep with her in Death;
For that is now the End of all my Wishes.

Eum.
See, she comes in dreadful Pomp;
Death seems her Wish, a joyful Smile
On her gay Virgin Cheeks confirms my Thought.

Enter Theopilus. Captain of the Guards, Dorothea to Execution, Executioners with Axes, Cords, &c.
Ant.
How sweetly calm does Innocence appear?
How happy is the virtuous Soul in Death!
O you just Powers, how like to Heav'n it self!
By all my sacred Hopes of Joys hereafter,
It makes me doubtful of the Pagan Faith:
For what just Gods can take delight to see
An Offering, or a Sacrifice like this?
Thus to deface the beauteous Work of Nature,
Which their dull Forms i'th'Capitol come short of.
O thou sharp Power to which her Soul ascends,
Forgive my Crimes to thee, and take me with her.

Cap.
The merciful Artimia,
Pitying the Weakness of her Sex, commands
Her Torments go no farther than Beheading.

Theo.
You are to blame, Eumillius
At this time to permit your Friend's Appearance,
To see what still must add to his Distemper,
And make it still more dangerous.

Ant.
I hope your Lordship will not be offended.
'Tis the last Favour I shall ever ask you;
And 'tis this Sight alone must work my Cure.
I feel Life now even at its lowest Ebb,
And very shortly I shall cease to be,
Or shall be happy: Tho' adverse Fate
Deny'd us here the Enjoyment of our Loves,
Yet 'tis beyond its Power to prevent
Our happy Souls uniting after Death;
Or if, as some believe, the Grave contains
All that Exists beyond the Verge of Life,
There in soft Slumbers and eternal Rest,
Secure from proud Oppression, we shall sleep.

Theo.
His Frenzy rages.
Come on, thou proud Contemner
Of us, and of our Gods; tremble to think
That 'tis not in that Power thou serv'st to save thee.
Not all the Riches of the Earth and Sea,
The unsearch'd Mines, Pluto's unknown Exchequer,
Should have the Force with me, to save thy Life;
Cou'dst thou procure it to become the Purchase.
Think then, with Horror think, what 'tis to die,
Even in the bloom of Youth, e'er Life was tasted,
To be condemn'd to Hell's tremendous Gloom,
And everlasting Horror; remember too,
Hadst thou not turn'd Apostate to our Gods,
What Joys thou might'st have tasted,
Those which now
For thy Prophaneness thou hast lost for ever.

Ant.
She smiles, and is unmov'd at all his Threats;
With what exalted Constancy of Mind
She bears that terrible Approach of Death,
That makes the bravest of us all to tremble!

Dor.
I can regardless hear your Menaces.

Theo.
Am I derided! made her Scorn! Away,
Hence and dispatch her strait, I'll wait no longer.

Dor.
Vain Man,
Thou glory'st now in having Power,
To ravish from me what's become my loathing.
Life is a Trifle I am weary of; dispose it as you please,
I pay it for a better, and your Malice
Serves as the Means to bring my Soul to Bliss:
From whence on thee, and these, and this base World,
Incircled with Felicity and Pleasure,
I shall with Scorn, and Pity, look beneath me.
'Twill be my everlasting Joy and Comfort,
To think at what an easie Price I purchas'd
Those Joys beyond the reach of Death or Time.
There's a perpetual Spring, perpetual Youth,
No Joint-benumbing Cold, nor scorching Heat,
Nor Age, nor Famine, have remembrance there.
Forget for Shame your feign'd Hesperian Orchard;
Your fair Arabia, your Elisian Shades,
And all the rest of your Poetick Fictions.

Enter Sapritius, leaning on a Servant.
Sap.
Support me,
I would see the last of her.

Theo.
My Lord Sapritius, welcome:
Hangman, go on, and do your Office.

Dor.
Come, Sirs, you seem afraid; banish your Fear:
You but retard the Enjoyment of my Bliss.
I would have given something for your Care,
To do your Work at once, but now I cannot;
Since powerful Malice, and oppressive Tyranny,
Has robb'd me of the Means. Come on, Sirs,
And satiate with my Blood, those that desire my Death.

Ant.
O take me with thee;
And let our Souls, winged with Cœlestial Glory,
Together reach the Mansions of the Blest.

Sap.
My Son! ungracious Boy! with my own Hands
I'll Strangle thee, and on a Dunghill shall
Thy Carcass rot, if thou darest utter
A Syllable that has a Sound like this.

Theo.
O by all means, my Lord:
You could advise me thus in the same Case;
And when my Daughters err'd, I took your Counsel;
So let him wait upon his Saint in Death.
Thou Strumpet, come more near me, and observe.
Perhaps you'll meet those Things I once call'd Daughters,
Whom I have sent as Harbingers before thee;
And if there be a Truth in your Religion,
[Which I have little Reason to believe]
Prithee return and give me notice of it,
And how to find that Paradice you boast of.

Sap.
Ay, it may be worth your Journey back again.

Dor.
Know thou Tyrant,
Th'allotted Time of Death for thee is near;
And that thou can'st not merit it by Death;
Nor hast not Faith to gain it by Repentance;
But in the latest Moments of my Life,
I'll pray for all of these.

Ant.
I feel, Eumillius,
A sudden Transport animates my Soul,
And adds new Life and Strength.

[Goes towards Dor.
Sap.
Villain, desist. Keep from th'enchanting Witch,
Or, by th'Immortal Guardian of my House,
I'll lay aside all my Paternal Care,
And crush thee into Earth.

Ant.
Why are you angry, Sir?
Since hopes of Life are vain,
Surely I may Embrace this once, in Death,
The only Thing for which I'd wish to Live.

[Embrace.
Theo.
I shall soon make a Separation.

Dor.
You have, young Lord, been Virtuous in your Life,
And lov'd me with a chaste and honest Love;
The which my Heart most gladly had accepted,
But for the Difference our Religion made,
Which has deny'd what both of us desired:
But the Decrees of Providence are just,
Though our weak Apprehensions cannot fathom,
Nor form a Judgment of 'em as we ought;
Yet though we were not Partners in Life,
In Death we both shall meet, and both be happy.

Ant.
Then I am blest indeed, beyond my Hopes;
Joy grows as burthensome as Grief before,
And equally destroys this weaker Body.

Theo.
Hast thou ought else to say?

Dor.
Only to blame thy slowness.
And retaining me so long.
Farewel, Antonius, 'till we meet again,
In the Enjoyment of Angelick Love,
Love in its purest Essence, and Eternal.
Now lead me on; and once again, Farewel.
Hereafter, when our Story shall be told,
Or be by Truth, and an impartial Hand,
Carried to future Times, the Hearers shall
Of Dorothea say, with wat'ry Eyes,
She lived a Virgin, and a Martyr dies.

Ant.
O, my sad Heart is shiver'd with that Sound.

Dor.
Come on, Sirs, been't Dismay'd, but lead the Way;
You injure me to make the least Delay:
And now a certain last farewel, my Love,
Till we again shall meet
In yon bright Realms above.

[Exit Dorothea to Execution, &c.
Manent Antonius, Eumillius, and Sapritius.
Sap.
Thou art an ungracious Boy,
I could even curse thee for this Disobedience.
Eumillius, help him hence.
[Exit Sap.

Ant.
My Friend, come nearer. O, I'm very weary.
Was it not kind of Dorothea, tell me,
Thus to Invite me with her?

Eum.
Indeed, my Lord, it was.

Ant.
O, follow her, and see the fatal Stroke;
See it; and then, as soon as it is given,
Fly with the Wings of Expedition to me,
And bring the sad Relation to my Ears.

Eum.
My Lord, I fear the Message will be fatal;
But I will go and follow your Directions.
Will you expect me here?

Ant.
I will—
[Exit Eumillius.
I must, for I can go no farther;
Here ends my Pilgrimage of Life in Death.
It shall be finished soon. I'll lay me down,
Thus low, thus very low, upon the Earth,
The Bosom of our common Parent, Earth,
And smile at Death, at the ambitious Crowd,
That toil and bustle for a little Honour,
Only to gild a vain and empty Pride;
For let 'em mount to the severest Top
Of human Grandeur, let the World admire 'em,
And all the Pomp of Courts attend their Smiles,
With Cringing, Fawning, Dissembling, and fulsom Flattery,
The Practice of all Courts; yet must they know,
That tho' they tread till Death those dangerous Heights,
Yet then, their Honour vanish like a Cloud,
And Oh! Thus low they fall, to rise no more;
To be no more remember'd, but enclos'd
Within the silent Tomb of dark Oblivion.

Enter Eumillius.
Eum.
My Lord.

Ant.
So soon return'd, my Friend?
Speak, O deliver, what thou hast to say.

Eum.
I went, and saw the dreadful Scene of Death;
She kneel'd before the Block, her Arms extended,
And Eyes erect to Heaven, devoutly Praying
For all Mankind, for those that sought her Death,
With so sedate a Constancy of Mind,
That it drew Tears from every Eye that saw her;
Then rising, took her Leave of all about her;
Said, she forgave 'em all.
Then with a Veil covering her beauteous Face,
She kneel'd again.
In a short Prayer to Heaven her Soul commended,
And gave the Executioner the Sign,
Who at one Blow—

Ant.
Oh! You have said enough,
There needs no more to finish my Discharge.
I would have given thee Counsel, thou art Young,
And want'st it from some wise experienced Friend.
I am not Old my self, but yet Experience
And Observations I have made, have taught me.
Surely I find, thy Virtues will advance thee;
But shun the Court, that dangerous Magick Circle,
Which borders on the Precipice of Fate.
I never knew a wise and honest Man,
But he was justled out, betray'd, and ruin'd,
By some designing, flattering, cozening Knave,
Which every Court abound with.
Avoid the busie, medling, factious Fool,
That's Malecontent, uneasy, and ambitious,
To have his Hands employ'd in doing Mischief.
Trust not the smooth-tongu'd Flatterer, he's a Rogue,
That speaks thee fair, when he would Murder thee.
Let thy Companion be a Man that's Brave,
Discreet and Virtuous; and do thou be so.
For that will bring to thee Content at last,
And make thee die in Peace. Oh! I want Strength.
What I have said, remember;
And for the rest, Let thy Discretion guide thee.
Forget my wretched End, and be thou Happy,
If it be possible for Life to grant it.
I cannot hold Discourse with thee of this;
But here must finish what I'd scarce begun.
O, let me lean upon thy Friendly Bosom,
And in thy Arms breathe my last farewel
To the World; I come, my Love; And Oh—
Farewel, my Friend—I can no more—But: Oh—

[Dies.
Eum.
O! Rest in Peace, my Friend:
Remember thee! ay, surely, that I will,
And banish from my Thoughts all other Things
But what thou hast planted there.
My Lord, in an unhappy Time you come.
Enter Sapritius Theopilus, and the rest.
See what remains of that brave generous Youth,
That call'd himself your Son, and me his Friend.

Sap.
My Son! Gods! I am fallen indeed;
Some Mountain cover this sad wretched Head,
Or hide me in the bottom of the Deep,
Where Light or Man may never find me more.

Theo.
This is prodigious!
And though familiar I have been with Death,
Seen him in several Forms and dreadful Shapes,
Yet does this startle me beyond 'em all.

Sap.
Some Whirlwind snatch me from this cursed Place;
Death tortures me with an uncommon Pain.
But—I will help him forward in his Work.
[Stabs himself.
Theopilus, when thou observ'st me Cold,
Bear hence the Bodies of my Son and me;
Inclose our Ashes in one Urn together.
Destroy the Christians, all, without Distinction,
And be more Cruel than my Wit could teach thee.
Something I would have told thee, but—want Breath,
And find I am going to the Shades of Death.

[Dies.
Theo.
Gods! What a Sight is this!
What desperate Havock does this Love create?
O Woman, Woman! who would look upon you,
When such Destruction dwells amidst your Charms;
When 'tis even dangerous grown, for Man to see you;
Though it proceeds no farther? Eumillius,
Remove the Bodies hence, and let your Care
Be of their Funerals; but for that fell Hag,
Her Carcass shall be expos'd to gorge the Vultures;
And thus Die all of this accursed Sect.
I Triumph in their Deaths, and will raise up
A Monumental Pile of their dead Bodies,
That shall o'er-top old Pelion, mount my Name
On lofty Pyramids of endless Fame,
That down to late Posterity shall stand,
Secure of Fate and Time's destroying Hand.

[Ex.