University of Virginia Library

SCENE IX.

Tancred. Rodolpho.
Rodolpho.
What can incense my Prince so highly
Against his Friend Siffredi?

Tancred.
Friend! Rodolpho?
When I have told thee what this Friend has done,
How play'd me like a Boy, a base-born Wretch,
Who had nor Heart nor Spirit! thou wilt stand
Amaz'd, and wonder at my stupid Patience.

Rodolpho.
I heard, with mixt Astonishment and Grief,
The King's unjust dishonourable Will,
Void in itself—I saw you stung with Rage,
And writhing in the Snare; just as I went,
At your Command, to wait you here—But That
Was the King's Deed, not his.

Tancred.
O He advis'd it!
These many Years he has in secret hatch'd
This black Contrivance, glories in the Scheme,
And proudly plumes him with his traiterous Virtue.
But that was nought, Rodolpho, nothing, nothing!
O that was gentle, blameless to what follow'd!
I had, my Friend, to Sigismunda given,
To hush her Fears, in the full Gush of Fondness,
A Blank sign'd by my Hand—and he—O Heavens!
Was ever such a wild Attempt!—he wrote
Beneath my Name an absolute Compliance
To this detested Will; nay, dar'd to read it
Before my self, on my insulted Throne
His idle Pageant plac'd—Oh! Words are weak,
To paint the Pangs, the Rage, the Indignation;
That whirl'd from Thought to Thought my Soul in Tempest,
Now on the Point to burst, and now by Shame
Repress'd—But in the Face of Sicily,
All mad with Acclamation, what, Rodolpho,
What could I do? The sole Relief that rose
To my distracted Mind, was to adjourn
Th' Assembly till To-morrow—But To-morrow
What can be done?—O it avails not what!
I care not what is done—My only Care
Is how to clear my Faith to Sigismunda.
She thinks me false! She cast a Look that kill'd me!
O I am base in Sigismunda's Eye!
The lowest of Mankind, the most perfidious!

Rodolpho.
This was a Strain of Insolence indeed,
A daring Outrage of so strange a Nature,
As stuns me quite—

Tancred.
Curs'd be my timid Prudence!
That dash'd not back, that Moment, in his Face,
The bold presumptuous Lye—and curs'd this Hand!
That from a Start of poor Dissimulation,
Led off my Sigismunda's hated Rival.
Ah then! what, poison'd by the false Appearance,
What, Sigismunda, were thy Thoughts of me!
How, in the silent Bitterness of Soul,
How didst thou scorn me! hate Mankind, thy self,
For trusting to the Vows of faithless Tancred!
For such I seem'd—I was!—The Thought distracts me!
I should have cast a flattering World aside,
Rush'd from my Throne, before them all avow'd Her,
The Choice, the Glory of my free-born Heart,
And spurn'd the shameful Fetters thrown upon it—
Instead of that—Confusion!—what I did
Has clinch'd the Chain, confirm'd Siffredi's Crime,
And fix'd me down to Infamy!

Rodolpho.
My Lord,
Blame not the Conduct, which your Situation
Tore from your tortur'd Heart—What could you do?
Had you so circumstanc'd, in open Senate,
Before th' astonish'd Publick, with no Friends
Prepar'd, no Party form'd, affronted thus
The haughty Princess and her powerful Faction,
Supported by this Will, the sudden Stroke,
Abrupt and premature, might have recoil'd
Upon your self, even your own Friends revolted,
And turn'd at once the publick Scale against you.
Besides, consider, had you then detected,
In its fresh Guilt this Action of Siffredi,
You must with signal Vengeance have chastis'd
The treasonable Deed—Nothing so mean
As weak insulted Power that dares not punish.
And how would that have suited with your Love?
His Daughter present too? Trust me, your Conduct,
Howe'er abhorrent to a Heart like yours,
Was fortunate and wise—Not that I mean
E'er to advise Submission—

Tancred.