 | Liberty Asserted |  |
SCENE IV.
Ulamar, Irene.Iren.
Was not that Beaufort? why does he avoid us?
What makes him look so sad?
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By Heav'n she seems concern'd for him.
[Apart.
Thrice happy Beaufort!
Whose Sorrow ev'n in absence has the force,
To move your Soul, while I before your Eyes
Unpitied can despair.
Iren.
Ah you mistake me, Ulamar!
Oh that I had the Pow'r as I have the Will
To bring soft Peace to ev'ry troubled Breast!
Ulam.
And 'tis that Virtue that undoes me more,
'Tis not that Angel's Face, nor Angel's Form,
That Form surpassing all your lovely Sex;
'Tis not that winning Pomp of outward Graces
Which upon you, as on their Queen attend;
But 'tis your mind that Captivates my Soul,
Your Mind in Youth's first Bloom with ev'ry Grace,
And ev'ry Virtue fraught, as if that Heav'n
And Nature's self took pleasure to instruct you.
Before I beheld thee my restless Soul,
To something high, to something great aspir'd;
But what I ne'er could tell, till seeing thee
And knowing thee inform'd and fix'd my ravish'd Soul,
And shew'd it what with blind and restless search
Before it sought in vain; yes, shew'd it Virtue:
Virtue it self that by great Heav'ns Command,
Assumes that lovely Form t'attract Mankind,
And draw them to it self.
But while you captivate the gazing World
You still remain serene, as if that Heav'n
Design'd you not to love but be ador'd,
Appearing not to know how very warm
How sharply pointed are those fatal Eyes;
Smiling, you kill and know not that you strike,
And we with Pleasure die.
Iren.
Oh fond mistaken Ulamar! oh never more deceiv'd!
Know all the Extremities of Love I feel.
Ulam.
You love?
Iren.
I am all Love, I burn, I die with Love.
Ulam.
'Tis sure for some immortal Being then,
For mortal Man could ne'er conceal his Joy.
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Alas he knows it not no more than Ulamar.
Ulam.
Let him be told it e'er it be too late;
Is it for Beaufort? I'll resign to Beaufort,
For tho' I love thee more than Life it self,
Tho' 'tis impossible to live without thee;
To shew thee how much I prefer thy Happiness
Before my own, I will to make thee happy,
I will leave thee the loveliest thing in Nature,
For Death the most detestable.
Iren.
Beaufort, assure thy self has all my esteem,
But 'tis another that has all my Heart.
Ulam.
O Man whose Happiness, ev'n Gods might envy!
My Friend and I, for I for him dare answer,
Will no advantage take of what the Council,
And wise Zephario shall anon determine;
But both, oh Gods, to him resign our Claim!
Iren.
[Aside.]
O matchless Love! O proof of Godlike Virtue!
While he speaks this behold with what Convulsions
His struggling Passion shakes his generous Frame,
With whose excess he trembles and he dies.
Ulam.
But oh! if ever thou could'st be too blame,
Thou would'st be so in this, for why? oh why
Hast thou so long conceal'd the fatal Secret?
Iren.
Because I never could 'till now declare it
Without exposing too much shameful Weakness;
Therefore my raging Passion I confin'd,
Which burning inward prey'd upon my Life;
But from the Man I lov'd I hid it most.
In this alas I sympathize with you;
'Tis not my Lover's Form ensnares my Heart,
Tho' his our Angian Virgins all adore;
But when I saw a Youth in his first Bloom
Lead our brave Iroquois with more success
Than our most ancient and experienc'd Warriors,
Perform such Wonders for his Countrey's Safety,
And for the Libertys of Humankind;
To which he sacrifices his Repose,
And ev'n his Life, and Hazards the enjoyment
Of what he loves much dearer ev'n than Life.
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Oh Gods! O Transport! whither is she going?
Iren.
When I beheld all this you may be sure,
Th'Almighty Mind has giv'n to me a Soul,
That could not see a Lover with these Virtues;
These Godlike Virtues, and remain insensible,
The Joy that lightens from thy humid Eyes
Informs me that thou understand'st me, Ulamar,
And I design'd thou should'st; but then be sure
Thy godlike Virtue which inflam'd my Heart
Has in my Breast produc'd the noble Pride
Of imitating so much Excellence.
As thou hast sacrifiz'd Repose and Life,
And hazarded th'enjoyment ev'n of me,
Whom thou lov'st more than Life, for thy dear Countrey,
I tho' a Woman nobly will attempt
To emulate thy singular Example.
And tho' I love, nay doat, to Madness doat,
Tho' my Heart feels what never Tongue can utter,
Yet if my Countrey once decrees me Beauforts,
For Beaufort I'll retrieve my Heart,
And never see thee more.
Ulam.
Oh too accomplish'd Beaufort! Oh my Friend!
What have I lost by thy transcendent Virtue?
| Liberty Asserted | |