University of Virginia Library

SCENE The Palace,
Enter Vice-Roy and Miranda.
V. R.
Slighted again? what do the Slaves conspire
To make a mock of Naples second Monarch?
By all my wrongs I will endur't no longer,
But they shall feel the weight of injur'd greatness:
Where is Antonio? Guards go fetch him strait;
Hurl him through Hells of torture to my hands,
That I may heighten all his Misery,
And double all the wounds which he gives me.

Mir.
O Sir, what villain has inspir'd this rage,
Or is it I that have inflam'd you thus?
Know Royall Sir,
'Twas I that breath'd the calm repentance in him,
And call'd his wandring Love to it's first flame,
Then fix'd his friendship to Alberto's name.

V. R.
Friendship! I'le hew that title from between 'em;
Eternall Mists shall seperate 'em for ever.
Friends; so were bloody Cussins and Brutus,
When they conspir'd great Cæsars overthrow,
And all the world did mourn the fatall blow.
But Traitress thou that durst oppose my will
Shall be immur'd for ever from the day,
In some dark Cloister, sigh thy wearied life out;
There may'st thou tire the Saints with Orisons,
And each return a curse upon thy head.

Mir.
Be deaf ye Powers, and hear not his request:
Till these last words you were an Oracle.
Oh! if Alberto's doom be not revers'd
Let me be the Companion of his death;
Then I'le enjoy him with a purer flame,
Then hand in hand we'le tread the milky way,
Whilst all the Stars shall wonder at our Loves.

V. R.
Whilst all the Stars shall sicken at the fight:
Enjoy him! no, by hell you never shall
I'le summon all that Magick art can do,
To clog the Soul in it's swift flight away
That pois'd equally t'wixt heaven and hell,
Thy body here may rot on earth, thy Soul
Grow to one horrid Mass of black despair,
And hang a threatning Storm amidst the air.
Weep on, weep poyson to infect the world,
And plague mankind, as thou'st tormented me.
[Enter Ricardo.
But here's a friend will countervail my griefs
Here let me ease my Soul into thy breast,
[Embraces him.
Here find a Subject, and a Child in thee:

Ric.
How fares it with my Royal Lord?

V. R.
As with the indigested Embrio of the World,
When infant Nature labour'd with a Chaos,
Wanting as yet the kind Almighty Fiat,
To midwife the rude birth into an order:
My Soul like the Seeds of being in their first mixture
Is grown a peice with grief and madness.

Ric.
Trust me I weep for joy, and grief at once,
I grieve your sorows, and I mourn your wrongs,
But pardon me if that I joy to see you thus,
And find my honest nature constru'd right.
But, ha! the fair Miranda here in tears!

V. R.
Mind 'em not friend, they're all but Bastard-seed,
The muddy offspring of a froward mind.
Begone thou Child of night, but mine no more,
Avaunt I say thou Poyson to my Eyes:
Leave me, for ever leave me; and may thy breast,
Feel torments great as mine, but never rest.

[Exit Miran.
Ric.
But never rest, this to your Daughter, Sir?

V. R.
Be thou my Daughter, and enjoy my heart,
For all run Counter to my will, but Thee:
But speak what fortune has detain'd thee thus?

Ric.
I fear to speak, since it sums up a charge
'Gainst two, whom till this night I most respected:
I fought Alberto in my Masters cause,
Whom he had injur'd by a proud disdain,
When strait some Souldiers seeing us engag'd,
Disarm'd and led us both to Prison: but
My Jaylors kindness free'd me, or his cruelty:
For strait I met Antonio in the dark,
Who with his Rapier made a fruitless pass,
Glancing o're my shoulder: I clos'd with the Assasinate,
And with my dagger wounding him I broke loose.
Thus Sir I purchas'd my escape to you.

V. R.
What, do they mean t'usurp my power then,
By cutting off it's surest prop that's left?
Or do they think I am my Masters Log,
A Passive thing for them to tread upon?

Ric.
Now all my Plots are ripe; my golden hopes
[aside.
Are ready for projection.—Perhaps my Lord
Miranda was the occasion of this mallice.

V. R.
What sayst thou?

Ric.
Alas! what have I said indeed?
Perhaps— [what shall I say?]
—Miranda Sir—

V. R.
Miranda Sir, why sticks your story there,
As if it ended in Miranda's name?

Ric.
Nothing, but Sir, another thought disturb'd me.

V. R.
Another? no Sir, 'tis that thought disturbs you;
You eccho'd to Miranda with a sigh:
I'le have it out, be quick and do not urge me.

Ric.
Oh do not force me Sir to such a Crime!

V. R.
A Crime! I'me amaz'd.

Ric.
You will be Sir amaz'd when I shall tell it;
But spare my life, and grant me a reprieve.

V. R.
Your life Ricardo!

Ric.
Yes Sir my life, which if I speak is forfeited,
And I must disobey if silent:
Yet 'tis resolv'd, I'le dye a thousand deaths,
Rather then brand my Loyalty; but oh!
My words will strike it dead, and silence blasts it,
They blow away my fame so dearly priz'd,
And all for one rash error of my tongue.

V. R.
I'me all dissolv'd in wonder!

Ric.
Yet I will speak you've forc'd it from my breast,
And pull'd my heart-strings with it— [kneels]
Sir—I love her.
Now tread th'aspiring worm to its Element,
Now gather in your breath, rally the wand'ring attoms
To curse this proud Ambitious Traytor dead:
Yet why am I thus my own Accuser,
When I shou'd blame my fate, and not my will?
Forgive my heedless Stars forgetfullness,
And O permit the monster to retire
To the Chaos whence it sprung, and where it ever
Had buried laid, and in perpetuall darkness,
But that you Sir, by a Diviner influence,
With one Command like a prevailing Charm
Struck life into the confused heap of matter,
And usher'd to the light the unwilling birth.

V. R.
Ricardo rise—I find my Spirits sink,
Trembling to mix my Nobler blood with his;
Yet thus I'de cut Alberto to the heart—
Tying this knot, I untwine his thread of life,
And cheaply gain to rule his fate and him:
'Tis done, my anger has ore'come my pride;
And rage has conquer'd, what Desert cou'd never.
Ricardo.—

Ric.
My Royall Lord.

V. R.
Have you consider'd what you've said,
Or has my goodness thus embolden'd you?

Ric.
I've weigh'd (Great Sir) your goodness, and your high descent;
On the other side, my weak and empty merits:
Your favour was the Air, in which I breath'd,
But soon as Justice had near gain'd the Cause,
Love, Tyrant Love, that Arbitrary Boy
Kick't up the ballance, broke the Sacred Scales;
And like Divinity without respect
Is equally obey'd by King and Peasant.

V. R.
Ricardo, Justice has obtain'd the Cause:
[Embraces.]
My Son—but take that title without her;
For when I think of her, the thought's a Curse.

Ric.
Ha! do I dream, or did you say, my Son!
Let me for ever thus embrace your knees,
For words wou'd be allay unto my gratitude.

V. R.
Rise my best friend; and since it must be so,
To morrow she is yours

Ric.
But Sir—

V. R.
Yes, Spite of her resistance my Ricardo,
She's yours, or heavens. But now no more:
Th'approaching midnight warns us unto rest,
Sleep but this night my Son, secure from harms,
The next you Anchor in Miranda's arms.

[Exit.
Ric.
Thus like an Eagle, when the Soars above,
And cuts the yielding Air to seize his quarry,
Basks in the Clouds, and glances tow'rds the earth,
Then seems to drive his flight another way,
But all is to delude his easy prey:
So I, like the new Marriners o'th Court
By different points steer to my wish't for Port;
By being Ganimede, I cozen Jove,
But since I'me favour'd by the Powers above;
Be still the rest, and be Triumphant Love;

[Exit.