Gondibert and Birtha, A Tragedy

Now Terror chills my Blood. I find a Sigh
Unbidden stealing from my inmost Breast,
And agonizing Tremblings shake my Frame:—
Again my Spirits nimbly dance their Rounds,
Warm rolls the purple Tide of Life again,
And all is Peace within. Begone, my Fears,
Nor dare to enter where the charming Youth,
Where Gondibert, without a Rival, reigns
The Object of my Soul.

Thula.
These doubtful Passions
Perplex the Ignorance of wishing Maids,
Who pant for something, yet they know not what,
They long, indeed, but tremble at their Longing,
Lost in a Sweet, uncertain Expectation:
But when the loving Bridegroom fills their Arms,
All Doubts dissolve away, and Joy alone
Possesses every Thought: the flaming Blood
In sallying Tumults revels through the Heart,
A painful Ecstasy oe'rflows their Senses,
And leaves them dying in the Throbs of Love.

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Birtha.
You seem experienc'd in the Bridal-ways—

Thula.
Yes, I have read—

Birtha.
In deed I fear too much.
Such warm Expressions!—Virgin Modesty
Must veil itself in Blushes at thy Talk.

Thula.
Your Gondibert, and Night will hide your Blushes.

Birtha.
Thula, for shame! nor violate my Ears.—
No wanton Wish has ever stain'd my Thoughts
So deep, as call the Blood into my Cheek.
And tho' I love my Gondibert as much,
As tenderly as ever Maiden lov'd—
Yet may I never know the Joys of Marriage
If ought but purest Sanctity, as spotless
As Chastity Herself, inflam'd my Breast.

Thula.
Excuse me, bright Perfection! for I found

365

A Heaviness upon your Heart, and hop'd
To chase the Gloom away with smiling Language.

Birtha.
Ah me!

Thula.
What means that Sigh?

Birtha.
And did I sigh?

Thula.
You did, and you look pale: the Roses languish
That shed a chearful Beauty o'er your Features.
I fear you are not well: dear Madam, tell me:
O tell me: is your Pain about your Heart?
Or where? that I may fly to help my Mistress.

Birtha.
A sudden Damp of Spirits; that was all:
But I am easy now; indeed I am.

Enter Servant.
Servant.
Madam, the King, and with Him Rhodolinda—

366

Birtha.
Oh! Oh!—

[Swoons away.
Thula.
She faints.—Heav'n, take Her to thy Care!
To the Servant.
Here—bend her forward, while I chase her Temples.
O Birtha! O my Mistress!—But again
The fragrant Breath—it hovers o'er her Lips,
Her Eyes lift up their sickly Lids again
And languishingly steal into a Sparkle.
Her Pulses beat; and Beauty's orient Red
Flows to her Cheeks afresh—She lives again.

Birtha.
He will not, sure, forsake me; his poor Birtha.
No: Gondibert is Dovelike in his Nature;
Is made of Truth!—we'll live among the Lillies:
Soft-spicy Gales shall waft us to Elysium,
To Beds of Roses, and to Groves of Myrtle!
No Rhodolinda shall disturb us there.
—Ah, Thula! where? where am I? where is Gondibert?
My Gondibert? methought He lov'd me well,

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And swore He wou'd be true.

Thula.
He will be true:
Compose yourself: all will be well again:
Dear Madam, we'll retire into your Chamber:
All will be well again—He will be true.

University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.