University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Enter Tibalt and Guards.
Gondibert.
What mean these Guards, and Tibalt in Disorder?
You seem to labour with some mighty Message
That's big with Fate: whate're it be declare it.

Tibalt.
Unwilling we approach with bleeding Hearts
And faultering Tongues, but Orders from the King—

Gondibert.
Tibalt, speak out, what Orders from my Sov'reign?

Tibalt.
Forgive Us, noble Sir, the King commands
That we confine you till his farther Pleasure.

Gondibert.
I know Submission, as I knew to conquer.
I fought his Battles, and He thus rewards me.
But be it so; for Kings must be obey'd.
The delegated Majesty of Heav'n,
The radiant Image which improv'd Creation
Is stamp'd upon Them, and their Laws enforces
With sacred Characters. The Deity
Lets down Himself into the Rays of Kings,
And throws a reverential Glory round Them
Inviolable, as a Guard celestial
And Panoply divine. I know my Duty.
Ev'n tho' They err—And Man is prone to Errors;
Altho' protected with that high Commission,
His Passions may betray Him or his Weakness—
Yet still we must forget Him as a Man,
Confess the Tye betwixt the Gods and Him,
Like Jupiter's betwixt his Throne and Earth,
And glory, while we suffer, in Obedience.
—I follow You—lead on.—Alas, my Birtha,
Thy Sorrows, not the royal Menace, wound me;
No sooner Heav'n bestow'd its choicest Blessing,
In giving Thee, but—

Birtha.
Oh, my Heart, my Heart!
The Pangs of Seperation are upon Thee.
And is our Love thus blasted in its Spring,
Now, when the Buds of Hope were sweetly-swelling
And promising a bounteous Crop of Joy?

Enter Messinger.
Messinger.
Your Stay is dangerous: This Moment part Them,
Or Punishment awaits your Disobedience,
The Princess self commanded me to tell you,
And threaten'd Vengeance in her Words and Eyes.

Gondibert.
The Princess—ha!—The King may be impos'd on;
Perhaps his Tenderness for Rhodolinda,
Perhaps the sudden Transport of his Passion
Inflam'd with her pernicious Rage might drive Him
Impetuous on, which Reason yet may cool;
Perhaps—we still may Hope—

[Aside.
Tibalt.
It grieves us, Sir,
But pardon us—our Lives are else in Danger—

Birtha.
Nought but the cruel Hand of Death shall part us.
No:—I will be Companion of your Woes,
Your faithful dear associate in Confinement,
Try every gentle Art and winning Charm,
To woo you from Affliction and beguile
Approaching Pangs from hatching in your Bosom.
I'll teach your Chains to sit more easy on you,
And by the powerful Chemistry of Love
Their Iron soften or convert to Gold.
When the raw Dungeon-Damps pollute your Senses,
I'll breath a warm and fragrant Gale of Sighs,
To sweeten Misery; my Breast, your Pillow,
Shall heave you to repose, my faithful Arms,
A kinder Prison, fold you into Rest,
And my Lips chastly kiss away your Sorrows.

Gondibert.
The Gods will bless Thee, Birtha, and protect Thee,
And for thy Sake may kindly look on Me.

Enter another Messinger.
Tibalt.
My Lord!

Gondibert.
'Tis well: one dear Embrace, my Birtha.
The Rest I leave to Heav'n; for Heav'n is just.
Adieu—be comforted—we must obey—
Adieu!

1. Guard.
We little thought to lead our General
To Prison thus—

2. Guard.
But if the Camp shou'd hear it,
He's so deservedly belov'd, They'd All—

Tibalt.
What are you muttering there?—Sir, We attend you.

[Exeunt.