 | The Fate of Capua |  |
SCENE Virginius's House.
Virginius enters with a Servant.
Vir.
You know the rest, tell her that I am here.
(Exit Servant.
SCENE opens and shews Favonia on the Ground.
Where are you? on the ground! it does become
The present Posture of your fall'n Estate,
Fallen from the highest pitch of Happiness,
Into the lowest depth of Misery.
Yet I will raise you; wou'd I cou'd restore you
To the admir'd height, in which you stood,
Of Fame, and Virtue; but it cannot be.
As well I may refix a new fall'n Star,
In his bright Orb, to light the World agen.
I come to visit you.
Fav.
I thank you, Sir.
Vir.
I durst not trust you in a Father's Hand.
Fav.
I have no Friend.
Vir.
O! that the time shou'd come,
That you shou'd ever say you have no Friend,
When I am near you. Yes, you have a Friend,
A Friend you shou'd not have, no more of that.
I am to tell you what a Friend you've lost:
And then compute your Gains.
Fav.
I have lost all
That ever was of Value to my Peace.
Vir.
You have destroy'd all that was in your Pow'r:
And you well know your Pow'r to ruine me.
You've thrown away a Husband, and his Love,
That follow'd you, as Nature does her Works;
To nurse, and raise you to Perfection.
Had all the good things of this Earth been mine,
And mine the Pow'r to draw their Spirits off,
Into a Quintessence of Happiness,
I had bestow'd the precious Draught on you.
And in return.—
Fav.
O I could make you none,
To your Deserts.
Vir.
In barbarous Return,
You have reach'd out the Gall of Bitterness
To dash my Cup, and poyson all my Joys.
I cou'd have sweetned it with my Revenge,
Which I restrain'd. I held your Father's Hand,
Stretch'd out to take away your guilty Life.
For when I heard he had pronounc'd your Death,
And Sign'd the Execution, tho' I knew
You had deserv'd it of my Wrongs, and Me,
I cou'd not hold, but flew to your Relief.
And why? Is it because my Nature is
Insensible, and cannot feel a Wrong?
Stupid, and deadned to the Sense of Shame?
Or that I'm noted for my Easiness
In finding out Excuses to forgive?
And pardon faster than they injure me?
Is that the Reason that I rescu'd you?
You know me better, no, Favonia, no,
'Twas Pity came into the Place of Rage.
But do not therefore think that I am fit,
For my Disgrace, because I pitty'd you.
Justice her self-Condemns with a Remorse,
And pitty's while she strikes, besides I thought,
That you, and you, who for so many Years
Had liv'd, as Friends, shou'd have a time to part.
Fav.
O Misery! that I must nothing say
In my Defence, to clear my Innocence,
Vir.
Hold, have a care, no more of Innocence,
Or a Defence, if you insist on that,
I shall break thro' the Temper I propos'd,
And then I cannot say where I shall end.
Fav.
Well, I have done.
Vir.
Not but you have an Advocate still here,
Within this Breast, and not to be remov'd,
That in Defiance of a Cause so foul,
So desperate, and so lost, will yet be heard.
But then it does pretend but to advise,
And warn me to be cautious what I do,
Well to consider what I undertake,
Pondring to weigh the heavy Consequence,
And not revenge my self upon my self.
As that's the case, unless I am resolv'd.
Never to want what I wou'd throw away.
And who can know his Resolution?
Who can be sure, that he is well enough
Acquainted with the Temper of his Heart.
To answer for its Proof and Constancy?
To know it's strength sufficient to support
So great a Loss, to bear a Loss, like yours?
The Loss of all, that ever I held dear.
A Loss, to beggar me, and all my Hopes.
These were the Thoughts that flew to your Relief,
And have preserv'd you for this Interview.
Fav.
More terrible than Death it self to me.
Vir.
You cannot think I come to pardon you.
No, all that I endeavour, or can gain
Upon my Wrongs, is to disarm my Rage.
And let it pass among the strange Effects
Of that commanding Pow'r, you always had
Upon my Heart, that you are yet alive.
But I am still contriving my Revenge;
Still meditating how to punish you;
And I am in a way that pleases me:
It satisfies my Justice better too,
Than the Atonement of your spotted Blood.
(Exit.
Fav.
There is no Remedy, no way to save
My Innocence, but by accusing him,
Who always has been dearer than my Life.
It must be he, that cou'd pursue me there.
If he has scap'd with safety, I am pay'd,
Tho' 'tis a heavy loss of Life, and Fame.
Virginius returns with a Child in his Hand.
Vir.
Here is a little Innocent, that comes
To Mourn with you: Soon as she can speak plain,
She'll tell you, 'tis an undone Mothers Loss
Has brought her hither, to be Nurs'd in Tears.
Fav.
O! may she never know her Mothers Fate.
Vir.
Nor the Dishonour of her Father, but
Inheriting her Parents Infamy,
She must grow up with the Disgrace, and Shame.
Look on her well.
Fav.
My Eyes, and Heart are full of her.
Vir.
Look on her as it were to be the last,
The last, last look that you may ever have.
Fav.
This Object I wou'd wish to close my Eyes.
Vir.
You must remember how she has been bred,
The fondled Darling of our rival Loves.
Fav.
Who are to strive in fondness of her now?
Who to supply a tender Mothers Care?
Vir.
O! that the Reason of my Love shou'd prove,
Shou'd ever prove the reason of my Hate!
How have I hung upon the little Lines
Of that dear Face, with a fond Father's Joy,
To find the Mother there in Minature,
By Natures Hand Copy'd in every Look!
I pray'd the God's she might resemble you,
And now abhor the Likeness I desir'd—
I cannot look upon her, but she brings
Her Mothers Crimes into my Memory—
When you are in your Grave, the sight of her
Will raise you from the Dead, to haunt my Peace,
To plague, and punish me, take her away.
I wonnot throw her out to Beggary,
But for your sake will never see her more.
Fav.
O miserable Woman! must I be
The Ruine of my Child!
(She snatches up the Child, the Women come about her to take the Child.
Vir.
Away with her.
Why am I not obey'd? Force her away.
Fav.
O let her stay but for a parting hour—
Vir.
No, not a Minute, not a Moments stay.
Fav.
To take a farewel Kiss.
Vir.
You've seen your last of her.
Now she has wound her self about your Heart,
Now she has hold of all the Strings of Life,
Now tear her thence—that you at last may feel
(Forcing the Child from her she falls on the Floor.
Some of the Tortures you prepar'd for me.
Fav.
The God's must give me Patience to support
What they inflict, this is a thousand Deaths.
Vir.
When I can entertain you at this rate,
I'll visit you agen, in the mean time
You know your Lodging, I must see you in.
You'll have sufficient leisure to reflect
Upon the Follies that have brought you here.
You've made your self unworthy of the World,
And therefore never shall appear agen,
But live forlorn, immur'd within these Walls.
Who's there?
(A Servant enters with a Dagger in one Hand, and a Bowl in t'other, and gives 'em to Virginius, who places 'em on a Table by Favonia.
I have your Father's Present yet to bring.
He sends a Dagger, and a poyson'd Draught,
In your Extremity to comfort you.
When you are weary of this Slavery:
You have that wretched choice to set you free.
(The Scene shuts upon Favonia, he goes off.
Virginius enters with a Servant.
Vir.
You know the rest, tell her that I am here.
(Exit Servant.
SCENE opens and shews Favonia on the Ground.
Where are you? on the ground! it does become
The present Posture of your fall'n Estate,
Fallen from the highest pitch of Happiness,
Into the lowest depth of Misery.
Yet I will raise you; wou'd I cou'd restore you
To the admir'd height, in which you stood,
Of Fame, and Virtue; but it cannot be.
As well I may refix a new fall'n Star,
In his bright Orb, to light the World agen.
I come to visit you.
57
I thank you, Sir.
Vir.
I durst not trust you in a Father's Hand.
Fav.
I have no Friend.
Vir.
O! that the time shou'd come,
That you shou'd ever say you have no Friend,
When I am near you. Yes, you have a Friend,
A Friend you shou'd not have, no more of that.
I am to tell you what a Friend you've lost:
And then compute your Gains.
Fav.
I have lost all
That ever was of Value to my Peace.
Vir.
You have destroy'd all that was in your Pow'r:
And you well know your Pow'r to ruine me.
You've thrown away a Husband, and his Love,
That follow'd you, as Nature does her Works;
To nurse, and raise you to Perfection.
Had all the good things of this Earth been mine,
And mine the Pow'r to draw their Spirits off,
Into a Quintessence of Happiness,
I had bestow'd the precious Draught on you.
And in return.—
Fav.
O I could make you none,
To your Deserts.
Vir.
In barbarous Return,
You have reach'd out the Gall of Bitterness
To dash my Cup, and poyson all my Joys.
I cou'd have sweetned it with my Revenge,
Which I restrain'd. I held your Father's Hand,
Stretch'd out to take away your guilty Life.
For when I heard he had pronounc'd your Death,
And Sign'd the Execution, tho' I knew
You had deserv'd it of my Wrongs, and Me,
I cou'd not hold, but flew to your Relief.
And why? Is it because my Nature is
Insensible, and cannot feel a Wrong?
Stupid, and deadned to the Sense of Shame?
Or that I'm noted for my Easiness
In finding out Excuses to forgive?
58
Is that the Reason that I rescu'd you?
You know me better, no, Favonia, no,
'Twas Pity came into the Place of Rage.
But do not therefore think that I am fit,
For my Disgrace, because I pitty'd you.
Justice her self-Condemns with a Remorse,
And pitty's while she strikes, besides I thought,
That you, and you, who for so many Years
Had liv'd, as Friends, shou'd have a time to part.
Fav.
O Misery! that I must nothing say
In my Defence, to clear my Innocence,
Vir.
Hold, have a care, no more of Innocence,
Or a Defence, if you insist on that,
I shall break thro' the Temper I propos'd,
And then I cannot say where I shall end.
Fav.
Well, I have done.
Vir.
Not but you have an Advocate still here,
Within this Breast, and not to be remov'd,
That in Defiance of a Cause so foul,
So desperate, and so lost, will yet be heard.
But then it does pretend but to advise,
And warn me to be cautious what I do,
Well to consider what I undertake,
Pondring to weigh the heavy Consequence,
And not revenge my self upon my self.
As that's the case, unless I am resolv'd.
Never to want what I wou'd throw away.
And who can know his Resolution?
Who can be sure, that he is well enough
Acquainted with the Temper of his Heart.
To answer for its Proof and Constancy?
To know it's strength sufficient to support
So great a Loss, to bear a Loss, like yours?
The Loss of all, that ever I held dear.
A Loss, to beggar me, and all my Hopes.
These were the Thoughts that flew to your Relief,
And have preserv'd you for this Interview.
59
More terrible than Death it self to me.
Vir.
You cannot think I come to pardon you.
No, all that I endeavour, or can gain
Upon my Wrongs, is to disarm my Rage.
And let it pass among the strange Effects
Of that commanding Pow'r, you always had
Upon my Heart, that you are yet alive.
But I am still contriving my Revenge;
Still meditating how to punish you;
And I am in a way that pleases me:
It satisfies my Justice better too,
Than the Atonement of your spotted Blood.
(Exit.
Fav.
There is no Remedy, no way to save
My Innocence, but by accusing him,
Who always has been dearer than my Life.
It must be he, that cou'd pursue me there.
If he has scap'd with safety, I am pay'd,
Tho' 'tis a heavy loss of Life, and Fame.
Virginius returns with a Child in his Hand.
Vir.
Here is a little Innocent, that comes
To Mourn with you: Soon as she can speak plain,
She'll tell you, 'tis an undone Mothers Loss
Has brought her hither, to be Nurs'd in Tears.
Fav.
O! may she never know her Mothers Fate.
Vir.
Nor the Dishonour of her Father, but
Inheriting her Parents Infamy,
She must grow up with the Disgrace, and Shame.
Look on her well.
Fav.
My Eyes, and Heart are full of her.
Vir.
Look on her as it were to be the last,
The last, last look that you may ever have.
Fav.
This Object I wou'd wish to close my Eyes.
Vir.
You must remember how she has been bred,
The fondled Darling of our rival Loves.
Fav.
Who are to strive in fondness of her now?
Who to supply a tender Mothers Care?
60
O! that the Reason of my Love shou'd prove,
Shou'd ever prove the reason of my Hate!
How have I hung upon the little Lines
Of that dear Face, with a fond Father's Joy,
To find the Mother there in Minature,
By Natures Hand Copy'd in every Look!
I pray'd the God's she might resemble you,
And now abhor the Likeness I desir'd—
I cannot look upon her, but she brings
Her Mothers Crimes into my Memory—
When you are in your Grave, the sight of her
Will raise you from the Dead, to haunt my Peace,
To plague, and punish me, take her away.
I wonnot throw her out to Beggary,
But for your sake will never see her more.
Fav.
O miserable Woman! must I be
The Ruine of my Child!
(She snatches up the Child, the Women come about her to take the Child.
Vir.
Away with her.
Why am I not obey'd? Force her away.
Fav.
O let her stay but for a parting hour—
Vir.
No, not a Minute, not a Moments stay.
Fav.
To take a farewel Kiss.
Vir.
You've seen your last of her.
Now she has wound her self about your Heart,
Now she has hold of all the Strings of Life,
Now tear her thence—that you at last may feel
(Forcing the Child from her she falls on the Floor.
Some of the Tortures you prepar'd for me.
Fav.
The God's must give me Patience to support
What they inflict, this is a thousand Deaths.
Vir.
When I can entertain you at this rate,
I'll visit you agen, in the mean time
You know your Lodging, I must see you in.
You'll have sufficient leisure to reflect
Upon the Follies that have brought you here.
61
And therefore never shall appear agen,
But live forlorn, immur'd within these Walls.
Who's there?
(A Servant enters with a Dagger in one Hand, and a Bowl in t'other, and gives 'em to Virginius, who places 'em on a Table by Favonia.
I have your Father's Present yet to bring.
He sends a Dagger, and a poyson'd Draught,
In your Extremity to comfort you.
When you are weary of this Slavery:
You have that wretched choice to set you free.
(The Scene shuts upon Favonia, he goes off.
| The Fate of Capua | |