University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

RHODOLINDA, LAURA.
Rhodolinda.
Am I despis'd for Birtha then, for Birtha?
Patience, I give Thee to the Fiends—Confusion.

Laura.
This very Hour my Husband gain'd the Secret
From Ulfinore, who dies himself for Birtha.

Rhodolinda.
Hah! am I Rhodolinda, am I Daughter
To Aribert and Heiress of the Crown
Of Lombardy and scorn'd? How am I fall'n!
Perdition seise her Beauties, Lightnings blast Them—
A Princess I, and She—My Soul's on Fire,
Nought but her Blood shall quench it: come, Revenge,
From thy black Cave; I feel thy Serpents here,
They Hiss me into Madness. Live? She shall not,
Not breath another Hour, by Hell She shall not,
Tho' Nature sunk in Ruins at her Fall.
For Gondibert, I scorn Him and myself
I scorn, for losing but one Thought upon Him.
O Pusillanimous! O abject Slave!
Slave to a Girl, a Village Girl! By Heav'n
I triumph in the meanness of thy Spirit.
Go, wed Her, She alone is worthy of Thee—
But yet the Sorceress, the smiling Sorceress,
Shall She escape?—I'll stab Her in his Arms.

Laura.
Madam compose Yourself, this Storm of Passion
Shakes every Nerve, and ruffles all your Form.
Acquaint your Father.

Rhodolinda.
Yes, the King shall know it,
Shall know his Baseness: His paternal Care—
—Yet shou'd the Weakness of old Age betray Him
To pity Them and pardon—If He shou'd,
Still there are Daggers, Poison—Hence away;
I know the sage Urganda will assist me:
This Moment seek her Cave, and fetch her Poisons,
That Fate may be secure—This Moment, Laura.—
Destruction, lead me on; I'll follow Thee.
The Furies shall their Nuptial Torches bear,
And big with fell Revenge I'll meet Them there.