 | The Viceroy |  |
SCENE IV.
CONSTANTIA, VELORA, MOLINA.MOLINA,
(entering hastily.)
Away! my gentle friends, and let me guide ye
To some securer refuge, at these gates
Dire scenes of fierce contention may ensue!
CONSTANTIA.
Explain thy friendly fears!
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Carasco's slain,
But in base conflict, with a poisoned sword
Has wounded Castro: our unhappy Viceroy,
In keenest torture, hardly now sustains
A life expected every hour to close.
CONSTANTIA.
Mercy! I charge thee to that bed of death
Conduct my steps!—a sacred duty calls me—
MOLINA.
That cannot be: I am myself commanded
To quit the castle; all Sylveyra's friends
Are kept aloof with a suspicious fear:
Alas! unhappy parent! I must tell thee
Tidings yet more afflictive: at this moment
The council, jealous of endangered power,
And eager to revenge the Viceroy's fate
Is met to search, how far Sylveyra's wrongs
Made him the accomplice of this dark assassin:
But we acquainted with his noble nature—
VELORA.
Shame on the base ingratitude, that wounds
His spotless virtue with its vile suspicion!
CONSTANTIA.
O horror! horror! this unhappy father
Will in the blind, convulsive pangs of death
Assassinate his child! and call it justice:
Thou good Molina! think not that affliction
Has driven all sense from this disordered brain,
While I inform thee, that in me thou seest
The wife, the innocent, the injured wife
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Who thinks his poor deserted Isabel
Now mould'ring in her grave, nor yet suspects
That brave Sylveyra is the son he lost.
VELORA.
The son of Castro! thou his injured wife!
MOLINA.
Amazement! art thou that lamented victim
Of cruel jealousy?
CONSTANTIA.
Stay not to question
My wondrous fate! a moment's pause is worse
Than death's worst pang: it may destroy a life
Far dearer than my own: my slandered son!
Fly! fly to save him!
MOLINA.
Would I had heard
This tale, before the terrors of the council
Shut me from out these walls!—'tis now too late.
VELORA.
Too late! O mercy has their coward fear
Condemned his virtue? has the cruel Viceroy
Forced them—
CONSTANTIA.
Distraction! he has killed his child!
I see the father stained with filial blood!
O unexampled crime!
MOLINA.
Maternal love,
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But calm its frantic fears—thy son yet lives:
Yet interposing Heaven—
CONSTANTIA.
May I believe thee?
Save me from madness! swear they have not killed him!
MOLINA.
Be comforted, fond parent! by my life
He lives—yet friendship trembles at his danger:
The timid council, who well know thy son
The army's idol, jealous and alarmed,
By every caution to prevent his rescue,
Exclude us from the castle; if we plead
Thy story for admission, they will call it
A sudden artifice to save thy son—
CONSTANTIA.
O! for a voice of thunder to proclaim
The sacred truth! but let us force our passage
Thro' these inhuman guards! what can they more
Than wound this wretched frame? and let them bathe
Their sabres in my blood, if they but leave
My mangled limbs the power to crawl towards him,
Shrieks of maternal terror shall detain
The parting soul of this unconscious father,
And bid him save his unoffending child.
MOLINA.
One chance remains:—to sue for entrance here
Would be to waste inestimable minutes;
But at the gate, by which I left the castle,
Some sentinels are placed, much bound to me
By various services; perchance their spirit
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Haste we to prove it!
VELORA.
Come! our suppliant tears
Shall melt the sternest—
CONSTANTIA.
Now, relenting Heaven!
Now shew thy mercy to an injured mother!
(Exeunt.
| The Viceroy | |