University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Siffredi. Osmond.
Osmond.
Ha! arrogant Pretensions! Heaven and Earth!
What! arrogant Pretensions to my Wife?
My wedded Wife! Where are we? In a Land
Of Civil Rule, of Liberty and Laws?—
Not on my Life pursue them?—Giddy Prince!
My Life disdains thy Nod. It is the Gift
Of parent Heaven, who gave me too an Arm,
A Spirit to defend it against Tyrants.
The Norman Race, the Sons of mighty Rollo,
Who rushing in a Tempest from the North,
Great Nurse of generous Freemen! bravely won
With their own Swords their Seats, and still possess them
By the same noble Tenure, are not us'd
To hear such Language—If I now desist,
Then brand me for a Coward! deem me Villain!
A Traitor to the Publick! By this Conduct
Deceiv'd, betray'd, insulted, tyranniz'd.
Mine is a common Cause. My Arm shall guard,
Mix'd with my own, the Rights of each Sicilian,
Of social Life, and of Mankind in general.
Ere to thy Tyrant Rage they fall a Prey,
I shall find Means to shake thy tottering Throne,
Which this illegal this perfidious Usage
Forfeits at once, and crush thee in the Ruins!—
Constantia is my Queen!

Siffredi.
Lord Constable,
Let us be stedfast in the Right; but let us
Act with cool Prudence, and with manly Temper,
As well as manly Firmness. True, I own,
Th' Indignities you suffer are so high,
As might even justify what now you threaten.
But if, my Lord, we can prevent the Woes
The cruel Horrors of intestine War,
Yet hold untouch'd our Liberties and Laws;
O let us, rais'd above the turbid Sphere
Of little selfish Passions, nobly do it!
Nor to our hot intemperate Pride pour out
A dire Libation of Sicilian Blood.
'Tis Godlike Magnanimity, to keep,
When most provok'd, our Reason calm and clear,
And execute her Will, from a strong Sense
Of what is right, without the vulgar Aid
Of Heat and Passion, which, tho' honest, bear us
Often too far. Remember that my House
Protects my Daughter still; and ere I saw her
Thus ravish'd from us, by the Arm of Power,
This Hand should act the Roman Father's Part.
Fear not; be temperate; all will yet be well.
I know the King. At first his Passions burst
Quick as the Lightning's Flash: but in his Breast
Honour and Justice dwell—Trust me, to Reason
He will return.

Osmond.
He will!—By Heavens, he shall!—
You know the King—I wish, my Lord Siffredi,
That you had deign'd to tell me all you knew—
And would you have me wait, with duteous Patience,
Till he return to Reason? Ye just Powers!
When he has planted on our Necks his Foot,
And trod us into Slaves; when his vain Pride
Is cloy'd with our Submission; if, at last,
He finds his Arm too weak, to shake the Frame
Of wide-establish'd Order out of Joint,
And overturn all Justice; then, perchance,
He, in a Fit of sickly kind Repentance,
May make a Merit to return to Reason.
No, no, my Lord!—There is a nobler Way
To teach the blind oppressive Fury Reason:
Oft has the Lustre of avenging Steel
Unseal'd her stupid Eyes—The Sword is Reason!