University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

The Great Street of Vienna.
A grand Procession; Flowers are strew'd by the People.—Shouts frequently heard, with ringing of Bells and firing of Cannon. —An Ode of rejoicing—which follows here.

CHORUS.

At the Close of the Procession, enter ALBERTI and CONSTANTIA.
ALBERTI.
Am I once more within Vienna's walls,
The fav'rite scene of all my youthful years?
And what is more, my dear Constantia here?

CONSTANTIA.
Oh, my Alberti, my fond heart is full!
I can't find words—to speak my raptur'd soul!
T'encrease our joy—your faithful friends appear.

Enter EVERARD and FAULKNER.
Alberti.
Now, good Everard, let my arms embrace thee
As suits thy station—and the Count Alberti.
Say, worthy friend! did ever mortal meet
So happy a reverse—from so deplor'd a state?

EVERARD.
Never, indeed! nor ever so deserv'd—

ALBERTI.
Behold that angel to herself restor'd:
Was she an inmate for the Cave of Idra?
Let Europe gaze—let kings fall down before her.
Now, gen'rous Everard, recognize that face!
Revere that form where every virtue dwells:
Let Oral tales—and history be dumb!—
Let blushing time destroy his annals now,
And sum up all his boasted list in her.—

EVERARD.
The kindling ardour of thy raptur'd soul
Has fir'd my breast—I see her all perfection;
I see her reap the harvest of her glory.
A thousand triumphs welcome thee to light,
[To Constantia.
Thou matchless wonder, and thou beauteous saint!
Earth's flow'ry honours strew thy virtuous path,
And shouting thousands welcome thee to life!
To friends, to parents, with thy lov'd Alberti!

CONSTANTIA.
To all my heart shall ever glow with thanks.—
'Tis more than recompence for all my wrongs.—
Who, Sir, wou'd grudge to suffer as we've done,
If sure of meeting with such publick praise?
Thy friendship in my breast, engraven deep,
Kind, worthy Everard, shall ever live!

ALBERTI.
Hast thou yet seen the generous Rodolpho,
Whose worth shall to my soul be always dear.

EVERARD.
I have, and am but parted from him now;
He to the court is gone, to learn what lords
Are to conduct you to th'imperial presence.

ALBERTI.
Oh! inexpressive joy! behold, he's here!
With him Lorenzo and Colredo come!

RODOLPHO.
Oh! my Alberti!

ALBERTI.
Rodolpho! best of men.

LORENZO.
Lo, brother, to compleat our ev'ry joy,
I, and Colredo, by the Emperor sent,
Are now to bring and place you 'fore the throne.

COLREDO.
Illustrious Sir, and you most honour'd Lady,
Permit me, e'er I dare like other friends,
T'embrace, and warm congratulations join,
To clear my name from Seyfert's foul reports.
I ne'er spoke of you but with that respect,
[To Constantia.
Which borders more on a religious worship
Than polish'd courtesy to human race.
[To Alberti.
So far from envying thy happy lot,
This consolation for my loss I bore,
That from the rival crowd of her admirers,
Sh'had chos'n a man much worthier than myself.

ALBERTI.
A soul like yours cou'd ne'er seek such revenge,
My heart absolves—and greets a former friend.

CONSTANTIA.
I always knew Colredo's princely honour,
And ne'er cou'd think he'd stoop to acts of baseness.

RODOLPHO.
Shame endless to the name that spread the doubt.

COLREDO.
That a fell villain shou'd such mischief work!
But he's no more! and my resentment dies!

LORENZO.
Let's think not of it—or th'infernal cause;
Give signal to advance—Heralds lead on.

The Song is renew'd without, till the Procession is quite off the Stage: Two Curassiers remain on, who had followed the Procession.
1st CURASSIER.
How diff'rent this return from the late exit
Which brave Alberti from Vienna made,
And felon-like to Idra's Cave was sent.

2d CURASSIER.
The then proud heart of Seyfert now lies low!—
His deeds posterity will tell with horror!
And pour eternal curses on his name.

1st CURASSIER.
While the long pageant to the palace moves,
Let's to the church, where with religious pomp
For this event, thanksgiving's to be sung.

2d CURASSIER.
A worthier cause than for a battle won.

[Exeunt.