University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

OLYMPIA, VICTORIA.
VICTORIA.
Come, cousin, you may breathe here freely; come,
There floats no fulsome incense here. You need
Fresh air; a tempest were almost too little
To fan this musky cloud of flattery off.
Foh! Such a stench of perfume suffocates worse
Than a volcano's mouth. Heaven! what a tongue!
I do believe the Devil inspires him. Bless me!
With what a face of plain sincerity,
With what a serious confidence, he throws out
The most extravagant flatteries! How they work
On your hard heart I know not: but for me,
I feel so tickled with my share, God knows,
I shall not sleep these three nights.

OLYMPIA.
Ah VICTORIA!
Was ever one so wretched?

VICTORIA.
To be teized thus
Indeed is most vexatious. But an hour,
'Tis hardly more, since from the middle gloom of
A long tempestuous night, a sudden blaze
Like noon burst out, almost with shocking brightness.
It smiled a while, enchantingly it smiled,
And promised balmy climes and happy shores:
Then, like a dream of th' air, this gaudy meteor,
This phantom of a sun, dissolved itself
Into the waste of darkness.

OLYMPIA.
Ah me! VICTORIA!
What shall I do?

VICTORIA.
Be firm, and never yield.
You're in the right, and cannot be too obstinate,
Be constant still; a little struggling more
Will end this strife.

OLYMPIA.
Alas! alas! all's over.

VICTORIA.
All's over! How my dear? I say keep firm.
Why this despondence? recollect yourself.
Have you, good Heaven! forgot your father's promise,
So lately made? his unexpected promise,
So voluntarily made? Insist on that.
Never forsake yourself, my dear OLYMPIA.
Abide inflexibly by that.

OLYMPIA.
Alas!
You come not near my grief.

VICTORIA.
I guess it. But
There's something yet more shocking than the loss of
A faithless lover. What you may avoid;
And will I hope.

OLYMPIA.
Sure you have never loved.

VICTORIA.
My dear OLYMPIA, would you have me whine?
And with an ill-timed sympathy indulge
A mind already too much softened, when
Th' occasion calls for fortitude and spirit?
One effort more—fear nothing—the steady mind
O'er-matches fate itself.—

OLYMPIA.
My fate approaches.
Ah my VICTORIA!—You heard the news?

VICTORIA.
I did.

OLYMPIA.
Do you believe it? May it not be false still?
Tell me sincerely what you think.

VICTORIA.
'Tis hard
To judge; a little time will shew it.

OLYMPIA.
But
May it not possibly enough be false?
It comes from a suspicious hand. A falsehood
Believ'd for e'er so short a time may speed
A wicked purpose; and this art they say
The cunning often practise.—Besides, this messenger
Appears not yet; 'tis noon too.—Ah VICTORIA!
Is there not room to hope still?

VICTORIA.
Dear OLYMPIA!
I would suppose the worst in doubtful cases.
For better mortify a little needlesly,
Than meet misfortune unprepared.

OLYMPIA.
Alas!
I am my own impostor. Strange, that misery
Should flatter thus itself! Why dare I not
Resolve at once to look upon my fate?

A SERVANT.
Madam, a Gentleman, one Signor STURIO,
Begs at your leisure to attend you.

OLYMPIA.
STURIO!—
Well shew him in—STURIO you said? Good Heaven!
What shall I do, VICTORIA!—Stay—I'm busy.
Excuse me to him.—Tell him—by and by
I shall be glad to see him. When I ring
You may conduct him hither.
Ah VICTORIA!
[Sitting down hastily.]
What shall I do?
I cannot see this man:
[Rising.]
This beating at the heart makes it impossible—
I pant for breath—I shall not have the power
To speak one word.—Ah me!

VICTORIA.
Dearest OLYMPIA!
Yield not to this alarm. Recover yourself.
This flutter cannot last.

OLYMPIA.
Must I be seen
In this confusion? It must not be—I will not.
It is not fit I should.—Pray might not you
Receive this visit for me? Do, dear cousin.
Say I am sick, or whimsical, or mad;
Say any thing, and let me hide myself.

VICTORIA.
Stay, dear OLYMPIA. Come: it cannot be.
You cannot now with honour to yourself
Avoid this interview. Come, come, be firm.
'Twill soon be over. Were the case my own,
I think I should with most contemptuous coolness
Receive the last leave of a faithless man.
What should you fear who know the worst already?
Let indignation shake this tim'rous fit off;
And shew yourself superior to the loss
Of one not worth the keeping. Come, you can;
I know, I'm sure, you can.

OLYMPIA.
I am ashamed
Of this base weakness.—Well, what must be must be.
[Rings.]
Now, Heaven support me!

VICTORIA.
Never fear. The fit
Goes off: and what alarms you now, my dearest,
You will hereafter laugh at.—Shall I leave you?

OLYMPIA.
No, stay.—He comes.—Ah!

VICTORIA.
Let him. He's more afraid
Than you.