University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Felix and Ariana.
Felix.
O Ariana! do I live to see
My Peace thus murder'd, and my Hopes destroy'd
By her I nourish'd as my darling Joy?
On thee my Age with Fondness has reclin'd:
This hoary Head, these feeble Hands, with care
Had rear'd thee up to prop their failing Years:
Thou wert the Hoard of Comforts I had heap'd
In Days of Vigour to refresh Decay:
To lead me chearful thro' the Vale of Tears;
To soften Pain, and smooth the Bed of Death.
And do my aged Eyes, at last, behold thee
Thus fallen off from ev'ry Sense of Duty
Thy gray-hair'd Father, or thy God exacts!
Oh, why am I thus curst, to see my Child,
My only Child a Reprobate to Grace!
To strip my parting Soul of all its Peace,
And send me down with Sorrow to the Grave.

Aria.
What means my Father? Whence this Flood of Anguish?
And wherefore am I thus accus'd of Guilt?
What have I done? Wherein have I offended?

Felix.
Hah! canst thou ask? When Streams of Blood yet run,
And Cries of Murder echo thro' my House!
When Wives are butcher'd, and when Brothers fall,
And rank Adulteries are loud proclaim'd!
Whence is this Scene of horrid Mischief? say;
Whence, but from Crimes thou wert forewarn'd to shun?

Aria.
Here Saints and Angels witness to the Truth,
Who see the secret Workings of the Soul;
Who know our hidden Thoughts, and ev'ry Wish,
Bear witness all, if still my Virgin Heart
From ev'ry foul Pollution's not as free
As when at first it glow'd with vital Heat.

Felix.
Hast thou not broke the Link of filial Duty
By Disobedience to my just Commands?
And can I now rely on ought thou say'st?—
Tho' Oaths and Imprecations join their force,
Thy Words appear no more than idle Tales.
A Father's Hatred and Injunctions fail'd
To awe thy Soul from Rebel Albert's Love:
As well might Conscience and the Grace of Heav'n
Be trampled down in Goatish Godrick's Cause:
O Horror of Conviction to my Soul.—

Aria.
Behold, unchang'd, my Visage bears the Shock
Of Accusations, with so foul a Stain,
As Infamy can hardly go beyond!
Does this express my Guilt or Innocence?
Where is the fault'ring Tongue? the crimson Glow,
And livid Paleness in alternate Rule?
Where is the downcast Eye? unsteady Look?
And all Appearances of conscious Shame?

Felix.
All those are Motions young Practitioners
With Consciences unsear'd, perhaps may feel:
But harden'd Sinners wear a Front of Brass;
And are beyond Confusion, or Surprize:
This serves but to convince a weeping Father,
Thou hast outsoar'd his strongest Fears in Guilt.

Aria.
O thou chaste Matron! from whose spotless Womb
I sprang to Life in an unhappy Day;
If Souls in Glory can behold the Woes,
Or feel the Joys of those they lov'd on Earth,
With fond, maternal Care assist me now
To purge that Fame which, so unjustly stain'd,
May, by Reflexion, cast a Shade on thine!
Oh! make my Name—

Felix.
Forbear, I cannot hear
So soul a Voice invoke so pure a Soul.
Oh, happy thou, dear Saint, who, now at ease,
Hast 'scap'd those Darts of Anguish, that distract
My aged Heart; and urge these wither'd Hands
To tear the Honours of a hoary Head
I wish, with bitter Tears, was laid in Dust:
Then I should nothing know of all this Guilt,
And all this foul Dishonour to my Name;
Thy Crimes would fail to harrow up my Grave;—
My Ashes would have Peace.—

Aria.
Oh, killing Sounds:
Yet, ere my Sorrows quench this vital Flame,
Oh, give me Heav'n to prove my Innocence:
Racks, Torments let me bear; but not the Taint
Of Infamy, for Crimes my Soul abhors.

Felix.
Tho', as a Miser eyes his plunder'd Hoard,
From my Enjoyment I had seen thee borne
The guiltless Victim of an early Grave;
There to be lost with yet-remember'd Chiefs,
With Maids and Matrons, long the Themes of Praise!
Illustrious Names! whose Virtue you've betray'd,
Whose Glory sully'd, and whose Fame defil'd:—
Oh! had my aged Eyes beheld thee dead:
The tender Tears which down my Cheeks had roll'd,
Would have been Balm to Pangs I now endure!
The Satisfaction then, at least, I'd prov'd,
To see thee sink in honourable Dust,
And end, with Dignity, a noble Line
That had, for Ages, flourish'd with Renown.
The last strong Buttress yielding, so, the Pile,
The venerable Pile o'erspreads the Earth,
Magnificent in Ruins! Grateful, then,
Our noblest Matrons would have deck'd thy Grave!
Our noblest Virgins, chaunted Hymns of Praise!—
I had but liv'd to pay a Parent's Debt
Of decent Grief, and sunk myself to Rest,
To everlasting, honourable Rest.
But what is now my hard, my dreadful Doom!
Thy Guilt deals all these agonizing Throes!
And, torn with Torment, hurls me down to Death.
And there, if Mem'ry of past Wrongs subsists,
'Twill ev'n imbitter all the Joys of Heav'n!
Oh, fatal Fall from Innocence and Duty:
Oh, Fiend! but born to damn a Father's Peace.

Aria.
Support me, Heav'n! support my sinking Soul.