 | Boadicea Queen of Britain |  |
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Enter Decius, Camilla.Cam.
Look down, relentless Heav'n! look down, and see
All that is greatly wretched, here in me.
Winds cease to blow, and weeping Clouds to Rain,
And ruffled Seas grow still and smooth again.
Stars take their turns to glitter in the Skies,
The Silver Moon, her Brothers place supplies,
And the descending Sun again will rise.
But an unhappy Virgin, once deflour'd,
Can never have her rifl'd Wealth restor'd:
No Remedy is known, no cure is found,
When our wrong'd Honour has receiv'd a Wound:
For ever lost, if once it suffers Wrack,
Nor Men, nor Gods themselves, can give it back.
Dec.
Not wrack'd, but safe within the Port you ride,
And harbour'd thus, may stem the strongest Tide.
embracing her.
By Heav'n, I love you better than before,
The rich Enjoyment has enflam'd me more.
Nothing my setled Passion can divert;
You Conquer'd, and you keep my Captiv'd Heart:
Devoutly will I still my Bliss pursue,
And fix that happiness I found in you.
Cam.
Oh! what a wretched Creature am I now?
And what a most Inhumane Villain thou?
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Why are no Signs of your Resentment given?
If any longer Vengeance is delay'd,
And you refuse to right an injur'd Maid,
Lewd Poets shall no more be thought prophane,
But all their Scandals will Belief obtain:
How you your selves have often acted Rapes,
Often deceiv'd the Nymphs in sundry Shapes;
Often debauch'd your Heav'n, and fill'd your Skies
With Maiden shrieks, and rifl'd Virgins Cries.
And now grown Conscious of your Crimes, your fear
Keeps you from punishing this Monster here.
Dec.
In vain, you let your fruitless Passion rise,
In vain, you hurl your Anger at the Skyes,
Your unregarded Wrath moves no Replies.
Turn hither, dear mistaken Charmer, turn,
Behold, with what a constant Flame I burn,
And 'till you are forsaken, cease to Mourn.
In me repose your Cares, and do not grieve,
For only I, who wrong'd you, can relieve;
Lull in my Arms, your anxious Thoughts to rest,
And seek to lose them on your Lover's Breast.
Cam.
Love cannot in that barbarous Bosom dwell,
The Brand that fir'd thee, had its Fires from Hell.
Nor is there one of all the Fiends below,
So Monstrous, or so much a Fiend as thou.
How shall I fly from my detested sight?
How, since thou mad'st me loath it, shun the Light?
I'le take no Food, but stop my stifl'd Breath,
And find at last, some Path that leads to Death,
Then, when I reach the dreadful Thund'rer's Throne,
I'll make him hurl his sloathful Vengeance down.
Dec.
Thou shalt not yet go hence, tho' not the Fear
Of either Earth, or Heav'n, detains thee here.
I will not change my Bliss for theirs above,
Yet theirs consists, like mine, in nought but Love.
In making thee, their Art was at a stand,
And if they would, they cannot mend their Hand.
Cam.
Talk this, but talk it to the troubled Sea,
Or Winds that bear it on their Wings away.
25
Shame and Confusion, Rage and Vengeance join'd,
Roll like swol'n Seas in my Tempestuous Mind.
Now Curse upon the Stars that rul'd my Birth,
Curse on all impious Ravishers on Earth;
On all Injurious Power a double Curse,
Men, as they grow the greater, grow the worse.
Curse on my Fate that will not set me free,
Curse on my self, for wasting words with thee.
Dec.
The more Men speak, the more their words are lost,
When most they show their Love, they suffer most.
Nature design'd your Sex to be controll'd,
Proud to the fawning, cringing to the bold.
And since so much my proffer'd Love you slight,
You teach me now to use a Conqu'rour's right.
Love shall no more the sole Dictator be,
But you shall act whatever I decree,
And only live and die, as pleases me.
Cam.
Why liv'd I not, ye Gods! in such an Age,
When Virtuous Maids endeavouring to escape,
By their vain flight, the lustful Followers Rage,
No longer able to out-run the Rape,
Could, to preserve their Honour, lose their shape?
Fair Daphne thus by youthful Phœbus woo'd,
Whom long she shun'd in an unequal Race,
Finding her self at last too close pursu'd,
Timely Transform'd, beguil'd the God's Embrace,
Who clasp'd a Laurel in the Virgin's place.
But since my harder Fortune could deny
Such wondrous Succour to prevent my shame,
Oh! yet relent, ye Gods! and let me die,
Here let my Sufferings end, 'tis all I claim,
Who cannot be more wretched than I am.
Make me forget this my most mortal wrong,
And that I ne're may wound you with my moan;
Rob me of Thought, deprive me of a Tongue,
Change me to stupid Trees, or senseless Stone,
Contrive my quiet to secure your own.
[Exit.
26
Cask.
Love sits in Triumph on your ravish'd Brow,
And Beauty waits on Fortune's Chariot now.
In your glad Looks, immortal Pleasure's seen,
Dawns at your Eyes, and dances through your Meen.
You took the surest, and the speediest Course,
For Women only wish and wait for Force.
They dare not of themselves resign the Field,
But strorm'd, like Frontier Towns, rejoice to yield.
Dec.
Yes, 'tis my Triumph now; her rifl'd Charms
Are richer Spoils than e're I won in Arms:
By all the Gods, she is beyond compare,
Not of the Mould that other Women are.
Joys after Joys in her possession roll,
And Tides of springing Bliss beat fast upon the Soul.
Heav'n seems to swim before the dazled sight,
And Thought it self lies drown'd in deep delight.
Cask.
Since then you've run the mighty Pleasure o're:
And she can give, and you desire no more;
Since she has nothing new to raise your Flame,
But all her Beauties will be still the same,
Call your forgotten Glory to your aid,
Turn back to War, and send away the Maid.
Dec.
Go, bid some God, lull'd in delight, on high,
Forego his Pleasures, and forsake his Skye;
Bid Jove, whom constant Cups of Nectar feast,
Starve in full Banquets, and forbear to taste;
And if the immortal Powers their Heav'n resign,
Bid me, by their Example, forfeit mine.
Cask.
Yet such a Feast, at last, may dangerous prove,
And you grow surfeited with too much Love.
You've only tasted yet, the Sweets that swim,
Round the deceitful Bowl's delicious brim;
But if yon go too deep, and drink it up,
Some Dreg at last, may poison all the Cup.
Dec.
If fearful Sea-men, when a prosp'rous gale,
And flowing Tide invites them, will not sail;
27
And run to distant Climes for Golden Ore,
They ought to languish in their Wants on Shore.
Cask.
But if rash Mad-men, when a troubled Sky,
And swelling Seas presage a Tempest nigh,
When raging Winds work roaring Ocean's high;
If then they venture o're the tumbling Wave,
And meet at last the Ruin which they brave;
On them, the Justice of the Gods is shown,
The Fault is not their Fortune's, but their own.
Dec.
No more, since only she can make me blest,
Of her I am, and will remain possest;
Let Gods repine, and Fortune do her worst,
I will not be by ought, but Death, divorc't.
From vengeful Foes I can my self defend,
And have a Gift that will secure my Friend.
Venutia to Paulinus I'le resign,
And by Consent preserve Camilla mine.
Both march in Love and War, triumphant home,
And force the vanquish'd Queen to Peace with Rome.
He comes, and in his Looks his Joys appear,
Wild with his haste, to meet his Princess here.
Enter Paulinus.
Paul.
My Decius, my Deliv'rer, oh! my Friend,
Where shall my Praise and Thanks begin, or end?
My Joys would altogether silence break,
But Men speak least, where they have most to speak.
Our Eager Words stand strugling on the Tongue,
And push each other backwards in the Throng.
Where much is due, still mute returns are shown,
And Words are needless where the Soul is known.
Dec.
If any debt but mutual Friendship's due,
'Tis I, and only I who owe it you:
You set me in the midst of danger free,
And lost your Liberty, relieving me.
Now Fortune, to the full, has Cround our Toils,
And all her Charming Face is drest in Smiles.
28
And both her Beauteous Heiresses are ours.
Paul.
Something unknown, struck with a strange surprise,
And, deaden'd at the News, my flowing Joys;
Doubt's hang upon me still, which won't remove,
But doubts inseparably link'd to Love.
Should my Venutia for her freedom pine,
Can I have any Comfort left in mine?
While but the Name of Captive she retains,
I seem to bend beneath the weight of Chains.
Dec.
Methinks you should not to your Prisoner sue,
Make her by Manly Love submit to you.
Confine the little God in Fetters now,
And let, for once, insulting Beauty bow.
Let o're the strugling fair the Net be thrown,
And seize, and keep the lovely Prize your own.
Paul.
That little God laughs at our feeble Power,
The more withstood, he wounds us still the more.
Men must with humble adoration move,
That only works upon the Powers above,
And that alone secures success in Love.
I know the generous Decius will incline
His Heart to favour the desires of mine.
Their freedom to the Charming Pris'ners grant,
Which, 'till restor'd them, I my self must want.
Dec.
What, will you then draw back, when Fortune stands
Stretching her Blessings out with both her Hands?
She is not often fond, and once refus'd,
She will not be the second time abus'd.
If presently not seiz'd, she does not stay,
But flies, for ever, with disdain away.
Snatch at her Favours while her Front's in view,
If past you once, you will in vain pursue:
Those Minutes she vouchsafes to smile, improve;
She gave you Conquest, and she shows you Love.
Paul.
I'le take the blest occasion, she shall see,
Her kindness shall not be abus'd by me.
I'le go, and to my Love my homage pay,
At her dear Feet her proffer'd Freedom lay,
And show, that she still reigns, and I obey.
29
You still are on your own destruction bent,
But I must stop you in the steep descent.
Our Wars are at a happy period now,
And Britain must to Conqu'ring Cæsar bow:
By their Release, she would again revive,
And their faint hopes would still be kept alive;
The War again begun, will never cease,
And now at pleasure we may make our Peace.
Nor will your Love a better Fortune know,
While they regard you as their mortal Foe,
And the proud Queen rejects and treats you so.
Paul.
Then I have try'd too far, too far, I fear,
The Friendship, which I thought like mine sincere.
Had I been put, by you, to such a Test,
I should not have refus'd the small request.
Dec.
Stretch it to any proof excepting this,
I cannot grant, nor you demand amiss;
In ought besides your boundless Interest use,
This is the only thing I can refuse.
Urge it no more, my Friend.
Paul.
Suppose it done,
This very thing which you except alone,
Suppose your Prisoner's freed.
Dec.
I'le not suppose,
What in a Friend so base, and Monstrous shows,
And know it was not in the power of Foes.
Paul.
'Tis not your Foe has done it, they are free,
And your Consent unquestion'd, freed by me.
This single Tryal will your Truth assure,
And 'tis not much for Friendship to endure.
Dec.
O Gods! should any other Man but he,
Unpunish'd, tempt me to the last degree?
Believe my Friendship now sincere and true,
To show how much it makes me bear from you,
One of the Sisters was my Mistress too.
Paul.
But not the same with mine?
Dec.
No, not the same,
But one I love with as entire a Flame.
Together you, your own, and mine, betray,
And drive what both desire, at once away.
30
They are not gone, not yet, but hither bent,
They come, at my desire, for your Consent.
When you the Charming mournful Beauties see,
And are the Lover you pretend to be,
You will prevent my Wish, and ask Consent of me.
Cask.
Furies and Hell! could ought that's worse befall?
Now the storm rises that will wrack us all.
How fatal may this Ominous meeting prove?
[Aside.
But, what could ever better come of Love?
Plague seize 'em, choak them Pestilential Air;
Hell swallow them, let them make mischief there.
Had he took my Advice to let them go,
All had been well; let Heav'n look to it now.
Dec.
Run, stop them, Caska,—stop them quick—but stay,
I'le haste, and send them with dispatch away.
Their Liberty you need no longer fear,
[Going out.
They're free to go, come any where—but here.
Paul.
Hold, neither of you stirs; for I must see
strugling with both.
Venutia, e're my self will set her free.
Dec.
I'le send your Mistress to you; Love is grown
So strong in me, so high the Flame is blown,
gets loose, and is going out.
It makes me fearful to behold my own.
Paul.
See! they are here already; at the view
Of mine, methinks that I grow fearful too,
Whom Custom should embolden more than you.
Enter Boadicea, Camilla, Venutia, Fabian.
Bo.
Have our remorseless Fates, in all their Store,
More Mischiefs still? or can we suffer more?
Why come we hither? do your Hearts relent?
Or can a Roman of his Crimes Repent?
Rather, insultingly you go to tread
On the sad Ruins which your selves have made.
To spurn your wretched Prey, already torn,
First show your Cruelty, and then your Scorn.
Paul.
Oh! stop not, why? speak, why are we accus'd?
How have we guilty been, or you abus'd?
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Something fore-boding some unheard of ill.
Your Sighs have shook my Heart, the drops that roll
Down your swollen Breast, distill upon my Soul.
Oh! stop not; once again unlock your Tongue,
Produce the Villain, and proclaim your wrong.
Why Reigns that Royal Sorrow on your Brow?
Why do those Tears so prodigally flow?
What is the cause of this so solemn Woe?
Bo.
Are our Inhuman Wrongs unknown to you?
But sure they are, since you are injur'd too.
We have no Wrongs, no Sufferings to deplore,
But you, unhappy you, alone, have more;
Your sharing in our Woes, your Fame secures,
For all our Miseries are doubly yours.
Paul.
Oh, all ye Gods! rack me not thus with doubt,
Let, quickly let the fatal Secret out.
What impious Villain durst your Wrongs design?
And how? Oh! tell me, are your Sufferings mine?
Speak but his Name, pronounce it in a word,
And you shall be reveng'd with Fire and Sword.
Bo.
Hear then; to raise your Fury far above
All vulgar Rage; hear of your Ravish'd Love.
Already Fir'd? Stay 'till my story end;
Pointing to Decius.
Stay 'till you know her Ravish'd by your Friend;
There stands the Fiend, there let your Rage descend.
Paul.
My Mistress?
[Drawing.
Bo.
Yes, your Mistress.
Paul.
And by this?
Ravish'd by this Friend here?
Bo.
Yes, Roman, yes.
Her whom he late demanded in thy Name,
Her has he forc'd to quench his impious Flame,
And drown'd her Honour in eternal Shame.
Dec.
You are not wrong'd, hold yet, and hear me speak,
She raves, and I must clear her mad mistake.
Caska enters with Souldiers, who thrust between them.
Paul.
Off, Slaves; you'l safer seize the Thund'rer's Hand,
Advancing to discharge the flaming Brand.
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Go, somewhere else, your sawcy aid afford,
Think you that I can fear a single Sword?
From you, because you were my Friend, I'le bear
This rude Assault; dispel your jealous fear,
And drive away your doubts, if you will hear.
Paul.
Doubts? by the Gods despair, distraction, Death,
Hell's kindled in me, and my pois'nous Breath,
Shall blast and send thee to the Shades beneath.
Ven.
Hold, my lov'd Roman, if I've yet a part,
[Thrusting between them.
Or any power o're that disloyal Heart.
Hold, I conjure you, my Paulinus, hold,
And wait but 'till our Tragick Scene unfold.
Paul.
If you have any part? why don't you see,
That all this Rage and Vengeance is for thee?
Can you your self your barbarous Wrongs forgive?
Can you desire your Ravisher should live?
Ven.
I suffer'd not the Rape, your much lov'd Life,
Was my sole fear in this unequal strife.
Cam.
But I—unhappy I—Confusion—Shame,
Suppress my Words, and choak me at the Name.
[Swoons.
Paul.
Look to the Princess there? Oh! barbarous Man,
What can repair thy Crimes? sure nothing can.
What shall I call thee now? Oh! what can be
A Title base, or foul enough for thee?
Thou Fiend!
Ven.
Thou Monster
Cam.
[recovering]
Ravisher.
Paul.
Barbarian.
Bo.
Roman.
Paul.
Survey your Ravish'd Love, and ruin'd Friend,
And think, Oh! think, where can our Miseries end?
Rome's glory now, no longer seems divine,
And thou, to further this, this damn'd Design,
Hast took no Name, oh! Gods no Name—but mine.
Oh! this abhorr'd, this execrable deed,
Will make our wounded Fame for ever Bleed;
In all our Annals, thou shalt stand accurst,
A second Tarquin, blacker than the first.
33
Mention'd with Curses, and with Horror read.
Dec.
I thank you; once my soft'ning Soul begun
To melt, and ready Tears prepar'd to run:
But thy Reproaches fire me with Disdain,
And Indignation sets me right again.
Because I wrong'd thee First, I First forgive,
And since thou wert my Friend, I let thee live.
Let when you will the Captive Women go,
I have no farther Business with them now.
Again I'll hunt them o'er the dusty Plain,
And make them when I please my own again.
Bo.
Away, my wretched Daughters, let's away.
[Exit. cum suis.
My sickning Soul abhors a longer stay,
Where the curst Scene of all our Sorrows lay.
Paul.
Yet 'ere, you go, the doubtful War suspend,
Let the dire Hate of Rome and Britain end.
I'll march the small Remainder of my Powers,
And muster up my Troops to joyn with yours,
Together, we may make the Villain bow,
Who is too Strong, alas! for Justice now.
With force united, crush and dash him Dead,
And shoot at once our Vengeance on his Head.
Bo.
After our Sufferings Peace? No Roman, no;
'Till Stars forbear to shine, and Seas to flow,
'Till Billows cease to toss, when Tempest blow.
'Till Fire, and Water, Heaven, and Hell unite,
And Day is swallowed in Eternal Night;
Till all Things to their Dissolutions come;
Britain, shall know no Peace with barbarous Rome,
Oh! see us Heav'n! with mortal sufferings spent,
(Kneeling)
And let at last, your angry Powers relent.
Behold us Earth, and say you never bore,
Three Wretches, so Forlorn and lost before.
Sure, when our Story in an After-Age
Is represented on the Tragick Stage,
No Savage Eyes their struggling Tears shall keep;
But for our Woes the whole sad Audience weep.
[Exit. cum suis.
Paul.
Hither I came with a transported Heart,
Now, with a Soul quite sunk with Grief, depart.
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With a sad Load of deadly Sorrow prest,
Never, oh! never must admit of Rest.
My future Life, not the least Bliss shall boast,
But mourn a luckless Love for ever lost.
I thought to've found her full of laughing Joys,
A Thousand Cupids dancing in her Eyes;
But, oh! ye Gods! to my amazing Fears,
I found those Eyes drown'd in a Flood of Tears;
I thought but now, my Love might best be shown,
Making her Liberty again her own.
But this unthought of Chance, this, Headlong Fall
Has worse, far worse than ever, ruin'd all.
Thus, the wrack'd Mariner a while will strive,
With all his Skill in swimming to survive:
In hopes, like mine, of better Fate in store,
Who, when he just has reach'd the wish'd for Shore,
Stretching his Arms to fasten on the Coast,
Is by some suddain Wave, dash'd back and lost.
[Exit.
The End of the Third Act.
| Boadicea Queen of Britain | |