University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Pallace.
Enter Vice-Roy, and Ricardo.
V. R.
The Mornings chearfull Ray, now guilds the World:
And darts a joyfull Omen to my breast:
The Early Lark, tunes his shrill notes to Hymen,
Whilst every Bird does warble out the Chorus,
And deafen all the Murmurings of my grief.

Ric.
'Tis true, great Sir, but yet this glittering form
May be a painted Cloud that ushers in a Storm.

V. R.
Can you suspect your Masters word Ricardo
That thus you mutter out your brooding fears?
Is that a posture for a happy Bridegroom
Clad in that gloomy Visage, and with eyes
Fixt on the Earth, whilst Mounting to the skies?

Ric.
Has not last Nights uproar, yet reach'd your ears
Which so allarm'd your Loyall Subjects fears?

V. R.
It has not yet.

Ric.
Then I must be the Informer;
(Wou'd Heaven, my duty, wou'd excuse my silence;)
Whether their plots have all turn'd head upon 'em,
And so compell'd 'em to this act, I know not;
But once more they have combin'd Sir, to deceive you,
Hoodwink your reason, and ecclipse your Judgment,
And make your ignorance patronize their Crimes.

V. R.
As how?

Ric.
Just as the Pallace Clock struck one,
I am inform'd there was a busteling noise,
Like the first puffing of an Angry wind,
Which swells and bursts at last into a Storm:
Strait clashing Swords disturb'd the Slumbring night
Which (eccho'd by a dreadfull voice of Murder)
Chas'd Gentle Morpheus from the Princes eyes,
(For by design 'twas done near her Apartment)
She rose, urg'd by her pitty to their danger,
And with a few Attendants, strait descended:
But (heavens!) what was her wonder when she saw
The two disloyal friends engag'd in Fight?

V. R.
Alberto, and Antonio!

Ric.
The same, my Lord.

V. R.
What should the meaning of their quarrell be?

Ric.
You'le please to judge Sir, when you hear the rest:
To Countenance her pitty, Alberto receiv'd a wound,
Which when she mourn'd for and Enquir'd the Cause
He with a whining Scorn accus'd her Cruelty,
And bid her help Antonio, whom she lov'd;
He seem'd amaz'd at the new Jealousy
And ask't the grounds: the Note was then examin'd,
Which he (as well he might) deny'd to be his hand;
Next comes a daubing Scene of flattering Joy,
Alberto kneels, and weeping, begs her pardon
As all had been a Mistery to him:
Nay more (oh heavens what Impudence is this?)
They lay the crime, the spring of all to me,
And have design'd this Morning to accuse me,
When he shall beg Miranda Sir, of you.

V. R.
Beg her of me, sure 'tis Impossible!
That they should dare to look me in the face;
As well they might behold an Angry Jove
When grim revenge sits furrow'd on his brow,
Ready to scatter ruine on th'Assailers,
All Lemnos brandisht in his hands at once.

Ric.
But they've a Mist to lay before your eyes,
Will damp the Force of your avenging Thunder,
And melt your rage, to a refreshing dew.

V. R.
'Tis moulded proof, against their weak attempts;
But to begin, I promis'd you my daughter
And with her take my heart for ever.
[Embraces him.
Go call the Princess here.

[Going out.
Attend.
Great Sir, she has prevented me, she's here.

V. R.
Hell and Confusion! what's this I see
Or my sense fails, or 'tis Alberto with her.
Enter Alberto leading Miranda.
By all my wrongs 'tis he! oh my salt bloud
Burst, burst your Channels, over-flow your Banks,
And let my veins be fill'd with Liquid fire,
Quite to devour this Gorgon, that unmans me,
Thus let all Villains dye.

[offers to kill Alb. Ric. interposes.
Ric.
Hold Sacred Sir.

V. R.
Ricardo off, for 'tis in vain to stop me.

Ric.
My Life Sir be the forfeit for th'offence,
Consider Sir who 'tis, that does oppose you,
'Tis I your Faithfull Slave, who wou'd rather dye
Then see your honour blemish'd by this rashness:
How wou'd the censuring World condemn you Sir,
If in your rage you shou'd Sentence one untry'd,
And be your self the Executioner;
Not but I wish his death, cause he deserves it,
But to dye thus wou'd make him Innocent
And fame secure, he's punisht but by halves.

Alb.
Why this contention for a wretched life?
Villain I know it is the game you hunt for:
[to Ric.
But yet you think 'tis not toil'd enough for death:
You wou'd have me linger out a Hell on Earth
See you possest of all Miranda's Charms:
But Traytor know, I have a Sword can reach thee,
And spite of Loyallty, respect, or Duty,
Rip out the heart that violates my Love
And cool the warmth which nourishes thy flame.

Ric.
He has guest my wishes.

[aside
Mir.
Yes, hellish Monster, know,
There's yet a greater bar to oppose thy way,
A Rock of Adamant, and so Impenetrable
That thou Villain with Legions like thy self,
No, nor the Hell thou carry'st in thy breast,
Can ever melt, or force away.

V. R.
Insolent Pair! but now they've doom'd themselves,
And by my Masters Soul, they both shall dye.

Alb.
Pardon, Great Sir, those unbecoming words
Forc'd by a just resentment of my wrongs;
I mean't not to defend that life which you had proscrib'd,
Thus I Surrender it unto your Justice.

[Kneels & lays his Sword at the V. R. feet
Ric.
We'l take the forfeit Sir, you need not doubt.

[Ric. takes it up.
Alb.
But to dye silent were a guilt too great,
To leave you in a wilde of treachery
Lost to your honour, govern'd by an abject Slave,
And fair Miranda Subject to his treason:
That I confess does make my tongue unruly,
Oh Sir, forgive that beauteous Innocence,
And leave her will as heaven has made it, free:
And here I swear by yon bright Sun that Shines,
And by th'Eternal Mover of the Spheres,
To hush this rising tempest in my Breast,
And fall a willing Victim to her peace;

Mir.
Oh my Alberto, your zeal is too unkinde,
Think not your Death can give Miranda ease,
For here I swear, by all the Powers above,
Your life and mine shall have an equall date.

V. R.
Damn his hypocrisy, and thy foolish fondness,
by heaven the Spaniard is not in thee Girl,
But I delay: Guards seize that Impious Traitor.

[Guards seize Alerbto
Alb.
Yet hear me Sir, before you throw away
That precious Gem upon a thing so vile,
And smear that Diamonds lustre with so foul a soil.

V. R.
Silence that croaking voice, Perfidious Monster!
He is my Son, and each affront is mine:
But to inhance thy mighty sum of woes
Live to behold thy Juno snatch'd away
Thy Soul rack'd in a Dungeon by delay,
A Cloud of darkness for the Suns bright Ray.
But yet in pitty, she shall stay a while
And all thy sorrows with her tears beguile.
Pitty? Yes Italian pitty! may her eyes
Each attome of thee, make their Sacrifice,
Be, like two Basilisks, which may devour
At each remembrance of their cruell Power,
Then flash thee dead, and kill thee every hour.

[Exit with Attendants.
Ric.
Why this is generous to spare his life:
Nay, let him talk long as he might be heard,
It is not I'me unjust then, but his fate.
[Manent Guards.
Well, I'le away to young Antonio,
Tell him—what?—let me see!—his Mistriss's dead,
Slain by Alberto:—this will work him up,
And of his friendship, make an useless Cypher,
Which I'le fill up with horrid black revenge.
Then in compassion, I'le release Alberto
(Whom I'le infect with some new found Chymæra)
And grant 'em both an enterview;
By this I make sure my game on either hand,
For both will seek to excuse me to the Vice-Roy:
Thus like the hidden hand of fate I work,
Kill and destroy whilst none can see the blow,
And friend and Mistriss be each others foe.

[Exit.
Alb.
Oh my Miranda, 'twas a harsh decree
That I must never, never see thee more
Ne're (blest with Love, and surfeiting with joy)
Lean on the rising pillows of thy breast,
And there in gentler raptures dream the rest:
Credit me Madam, but 'tis wondrous sad.

Mir.
Do not despair Alberto, my best, and only Love,
For Fortunes Cruelty, is as inconstant as her favour.
But let her vent her malice, still there's hope;
Time's but a rowling tide, which flows a while,
Stays not, but strait with murmuring joy does ebb,
Into the Ocean of Eternity:
Thither we'le launch; there Landed on the shore
Above the reach of Fate, or cruell Fathers,
We'le spend an Immortality of Love.

Alb.
Oh my Soul! my blest Angell speak again,
Thy charming words and sight can cure despair,
They lull my griefs asleep, and make me tame
And I am all joy, all extasy again.
But oh, I never must behold thee more
An angry Demon hurries me away
And drags me from the Heaven I now possess;
That thought renews my grief, and galls my heart;
There I confess my Courage shrinks and dyes,
More than when death was in my view in War,
My crowded breast teem'd with a thousand joys,
Which in an Instant are all made abortive,
But yet a single plague's too small for me,
For heaven has doom'd Miranda to a Villain.
That beauteous Casket to be rifl'd by a Slave.

Mir.
Can you then still suspect my Faith Alberto?
But since (oh torture!) 'tis the last proof which I can give,
Hear me ye Powers, and you Alberto hear me,
If ever I consent to be Ricardo's
Tho' all the Tortures hell can e're invent
Combine to force my will, oh may I never—

Alb.
Forbear, oh forbear that Cruel Sentence on thy self,
I have been impious, but forgive me heaven;
And oh Miranda live, altho' Ricardo's;
What hast thou done, that heaven shou'd punish thee?
Or how hast thou deserv'd to share my griefs?

Mir.
Can Love then be so bad a Councellour,
Or can Alberto wish me so unhappy?
Perhaps you doubt the frailty of my Sex,
And think that death can shake my Female valour;
But know, when danger runs in a Carreer;
Love takes the wing, and soars above all fear.

Alb.
By heaven I doubt thee not; but do not rob
The world, by taking all that's good away:

Mir.
When you are gone, what's left that's worth my stay?

Attend.
My Lord, your time is past, you must to Prison:

Alb.
I will; but one look more and then I've done:
Here must I take a long farewell to Love.
[kisses her hand.
Oh my Miranda, when the Fates allow,
That false Ricardo must possess thy heart,
When he shall reap the harvest of my joys,
Give but one sigh, one tear, to poor departed me,
And it will crown my wandring shade with peace.

Mir.
Think not of dying.

Alb.
Yes, I must Miranda;
For Death's the only blessing I have left:
Yet must I blame the malice of my Stars.
Then when I'de wandred thro' the Coasts of night,
To seek some comfortable streak of Light;
Then when my eye had Paradice in view,
Thus to Ecclipse my rising Sun anew:
Or as a Vulture when he flies the round,
To seize some spotless Dove, which having found,
With greedy joy he mounts up to the skies,
Whilst he does Revell on his lovely prize,
And with a scornfull Glance the World despise;
When strait some well-arm'd Eagle stops his Flight,
Forces the trembling Quarry from his sight,
And hurles him head-long to the shades of Night.
So, when I had reach'd thee thro' a dreadful maze,
And after all my doubts, my Soul found ease;
Midst of my Triumphs for my glorious prey,
The Tyrant Power does snatch thee quite away.

[Exeunt severally