 | Liberty Asserted |  |
SCENE I.
Sakia, Ulamar.Sak.
Why hast thou staid so long ungrateful Ulamer?
I sent thee word that thy late dreadful Tale,
Had rais'd such various furies in my Soul,
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And snatch'd me so entirely from my self,
That the important business was unmention'd,
For which that conference was first design'd.
Thou hast often said, my Son, that thou desirest
To know thy Father.
Ul.
Yet you unkindly kept him still conceal'd.
Sak.
Believe it Son, there was a wondrous cause:
But wherefore would'st thou know him?
Ul.
That if he leads the Hurons out to fight,
I might in Battle shun him.
Sak.
Is that the only cause of thy desire?
Know that in Battle, shoud'st thou meet thy Father,
Great Nature whispring with her Voice Divine,
Would make thee stop thy eager murdring Hand,
In spight of all thy sacred Thirst of Blood;
Or else some Genius with no mortal tone,
Would thunder in thy ears, forbear, 'tis He.
And would'st thou only know him to avoid Him?
Is that the only cause of thy desire?
Thou should'st desire to know him to Embrace him;
And to revere the Fountain of thy life;
From which the Graces of thy manly form,
And all thy boasted excellences flow.
Ul.
Then name him.
Sak.
The naming him on thee, my Son, depends.
Yet thus far thou shal'st know thy noble Father;
The best and bravest of Mankind is he;
And, oh, he loves thee Son, he loves the more
Than his own lovely Eyes, He lives for thee;
And me he loves with such an Air and Meen,
As if some God came down to adore his Creature:
Oh none can love but he! Oh none can show
Such Majesty with so much sweetness joyn'd,
Such tenderness with fury reconcil'd,
So firm a constancy with so much flame,
Such rapture with inimitable Grace;
And then a Wisdom, and a Tongue might charm
The ears of listening Angels: Know my Son
Thou wilt be fond, be proud of such a Father.
Ul.
Madam, his name?
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Once more the naming him, on thee depends:
Before thou hear'st his name, thou must conclude
This profer'd Peace; and must renounce for ever—
Ul.
Whom?
Sak.
The Daughter of Zepharia.
Ul.
Irene?
Sak.
What; do'st thou start?
Yes disobedient Boy, thou must renounce Her.
Ul.
My Wife?
Sak.
Thy Wife? Impossible!
Ul.
This hour our Hands were joyn'd; this very hour
With solemn Invocation I implor'd
The eternal Mind, and every Power to witness
That nought but death should part my Love and me.
Sak.
To thee thy Father then for ever's lost.
Ul.
Wherefore.
Sak.
He bears to every Angian mortal Hate.
Ul.
Let him but look on her, that Hate will cease.
Sak.
He oft indulging his fond tender thoughts,
He oft would please himself with thoughts of thee,
And of thy Fortune, and thy future deeds,
And of the Wife design'd for thee; a Wife
Of quite a different Stamp, than thou hast chose.
Ul.
One who has greater Beauty than Irene?
Sak.
No, to confess a truth, that cannot be.
Ul.
Of greater Interest then, perhaps than she?
Sak.
Of greater interest say'st thou?
Ah no! His generous Soul disdains the thought,
The Wife that He design'd for thee, was one
Whom Education should with nature Joyn,
To form her an Associate worthy thee!
One fit t' assist thee in the ways of Virtue,
And help to raise thy Soul, to glorious Acts.
Ul.
What he design'd then, Providence has done,
And Joyn'd me to the very Lovely she,
Whom had my Father known, he wou'd have chose.
Sak.
Ha!
Ul.
And has not Beaufort told you what Irene
Did at that Conference, that made her mine?
Sak.
He told me that, but kept the Match conceal'd.
Ul.
Was ever any thing so Great, so Noble?
Sak.
I must confess, it was no common Act.
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Was ever so much Greatness seen before?
My Father will be pleas'd, will be Transported,
To be allied to such Transcendent Virtue.
Ev'n Europeans Amorous of themselves,
And their own ways exalt it to the Skies,
And generous Beaufort freely has declar'd
He never heard of any thing so great,
Among their Godlike Romans.
Sak.
Is't possible?
Ul.
My Father when he sees her will be charm'd,
My Father loudly will approve my Choice.
Sak.
O all ye Immortal Pow'rs, I am convinc'd;
Remove one hindrance, which thou can'st remove,
And thy poor Mother may be happy still.
Ul.
Name it.
Sak.
This Marriage ties thee, to a hateful Interest,
Repugnant to thy Father's: But the French
Now proffer Peace, that Peace is in thy Pow'r;
Conclude it, and your Interests will be one.
Ul.
But that on me depends not.
Sak.
That on thee!
On thee alone, assure thy self, depends
The Angians have instated thee and Beaufort,
And thy new Father with unbounded Pow'r
To make firm Peace, or to continue War.
And two of you decide th' Important Business,
Zephario strongly is inclin'd to thee;
And the English Interest is so clearly known,
As may make Beaufort easily suspected.
Ul.
But Madam.
Sak.
Hear me yet my Son a while,
If with the French and Hurons, thou conclud'st,
A solid Peace: Survey the vast Advantages
Which will from thence Accrue, to thee and thine,
For let th' Exchange of Captives be one clause,
And then that Peace restores thee to thy Father.
Ul.
How are you sure he Lives?
Sak.
He Lives, he Lives, the Darling Care of Heav'n!
This I'm assur'd, by one, who in the Fight,
Both saw and felt, and wonder'd at his Valour:
And thee he says, he say so very near,
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Thou narrowly, Oh! narrowly did'st miss,
The Murder of thy Father.
Ul.
Oh Heav'n! I'm seiz'd with Horrour when I hear it.
Sak.
Prevent it for the future,
Dread what may happen, and conclude a Peace;
And as that Peace restores thee to thy Father,
So it secures thy Fair, thy lov'd Irene,
For she may else while thou mak'st distant War,
Be torn from thee, as I was from thy Father.
Ul.
Ay that wou'd make a Wretch of me indeed?
Sak.
All my own Interest, I pass in Silence,
And all my Griefs, for I'm too well convinc'd,
That thou can'st look insensibly on both.
Ul.
Madam you wrong me.
Sak.
No, thou hat'st thy Mother.
Ul.
Hate you?
Sak.
And yet bear Witness Heav'n and Earth, bear witness
My cruel'st Foes, with what a Tender care,
With what an ardent Love, I've cherish'd thee,
Oh Ulamer, my Life is not so Dear to me,
For I have Liv'd for thee alone, Just Heav'n
For Twenty years I've plac'd my sole felicity,
Nay all my Wishes, all my Hopes of Happiness,
On two dear objects, on a Son and Husband:
From thy dear Father I have long been torn,
And kept a mournful Widow and a Slave
In insupportable Captivity,
Disconsolate, forlorn, and desolate
Among my Barbarous and Insulting Foes;
And have been forc'd to bear their Bloody taunts,
And all the malice of their murdering Eyes:
Yet thou for whom I have endur'd all this,
For whom I groan away my wretched hours:
Thou hast refus'd to dry thy Mother's Eyes,
But prov'st a cruel and a bitter Child to me,
Untouch'd by all my Grief, unmov'd by all my Love.
Ul.
Once more you wrong me Madam;
I always have profest exact obedience to you,
Beyond the custom of our Indian Sons;
For such obedience my best friend has taught me,
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Yes!
Witness the Battle Fought this Bloody morn.
And the Clandestine Match this Evening made.
Ul.
I thought you had been satisfy'd in both.
Sab.
Why do'st thou not Obey me, now Ingrate!
When thy Obedience is most necessary.
Thou know'st the sinking pressure under which
I for Twelve years have bow'd my wretched Head
Have pass'd my tedious days in Tears, and Wails:
My Nights in fearful Dreams and broken Slumbers,
Thou seest my faded Cheek, my Languid Eye,
And hear'st me breath the Rueful voice of Sorrow,
Thou know'st this Peace wou'd end my killing Care,
And drive all sadness from my Eyes for ever.
For the bare thought of seeing thy Dear Father,
Makes Joy like lightning dart along my Soul;
And raises every Sense to Native vigour.
Oh yet thy Mother might be blest to envy?
But her lov'd Son will have her wretched still;
Thou know'st this Peace is only in thy pow'r;
Yet knowing this, hast thou vouchsaf'd to give
One word of comfort to revive my Soul?
Yes, cruel, hast thou once vouchsaf'd t' assure me
That thou determin'st to conclude this Treaty?
Hast thou not stood Insensible and Dumb?
Ul.
But first 'tis requisite to hear the French;
And then in what I can you shall be obey'd:
Sak.
In what thou can'st; in what thou wilt, thou mean'st:
Yes, yes, my Son, thou shalt be soon discharg'd
Of all the Duty which thou ow'st to me,
But yet a while, and thou wilt have no Mother,
And then too late thou may'st vouchsafe a Sigh
For all the Misery I've undergone,
For all the Woe I yet must undergo,
In that strange Region of Departed Souls,
Where I must Languish out my Woful hours
In Expectation of my Dearest Husband;
And of my Cruel, but my much lov'd Son.
Ul.
Can'st thou hear this my Soul, and not be mov'd?
Sak.
I never in this World shall see thee more,
And here. thou never wilt thy Father know,
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I leave thee, O my Son: Bless, bless him Heav'n;
I have born Wretchedness enough for both;
I leave him to thy care. Adieu my Son!
A long Adieu in this Embrace receive.
Ul.
Madam, by all that's Sacred I adjure you
Not to commit a rash and cursed deed;
Wait the result, at least of this Debate.
Sak.
And do'st thou give me hope then?
Ul.
I do.
Sak.
Well then! Since thou wilt have it so, I'll wait,
But know on that result depends my Fate.
| Liberty Asserted | |