 | Neglected Virtue : or, the Vnhappy Conquerour |  |
ACT V.
Scene, A Mad-House.Enter two Keepers.
1st. Keep.
Go, carry mad Bess some Meat; she roars like Thunder;
and d'ye hear, tie the Parson up: The Moon's
in the full, and he has a thousand Pigs in's Brains.
Enter Lycastes.
Lyc.
Save you, Gentlemen; was there not a little Boy brought in
here lately?
1st. Keep.
Yes, Sir, but for what reason Heaven knows; the Boy
seems to me as much in his Wits as I am.
Lyc.
He is so, Sir, but the Child is under the Care of an Unhappy
Father that is stark mad; I have often endeavour'd by force, to bring
him to the Colledge of Lunaticks, but cou'd not; therefore I was forced
to use this Stratagem; for he loves the Boy intirely, and will follow
him any whither.
Well, Sir, what of this?
Lyc.
Why therefore I sent the Boy that we might have an opportunity
of getting him hither in order to secure him.
1st. Keep.
Oh, Sir, let us alone for that.
Lyc.
There is the Child's Brother with him too, Sir, as mad as the
Father; therefore I desire you to take particular care of both, and
there's your Entrance-Money, I'll see the rest paid.
1st.
I'll warrant you, Sir, we have those as mad as he.
Lyc.
One thing I had forgot, Sir, when he finds himself Trapan'd,
he'll almost murder the Child; therefore I desire you'd let me have
him with me.
1st.
With all my heart, Sir; here, bring the Boy that came in last.
Enter one with Amadine.
Serv.
Here's the Boy, Sir.
1st. K.
Here Child, here's a Gentleman come to set you at liberty.
Amad.
As I live Lycastes, O happy Deliverance!
Lyc.
Come my pretty Rogue, your Father's near us; therefore we
had best make hast lest we shou'd be seen.
1st. K.
No, no, Sir, never fear that; here Boy, shew the Gentleman
out at the Back-door.
Lyc.
Your Servant, Sir.
[Ex. Lyc. and Amad.
Enter an English Madman.
1st. K.
Why how now? Who let this English Madman loose? A
Pox on him for coming hither; cou'd he not have kept in his own
Countrey.
E. Mad.
Give me some Drink.
1st. K.
Give you some Halter; there's a great many of your Country-men
I'm sure deserve it.
E. Mad.
Give me a thousand Pots, come down on your Knees you
Rogues and pledge me. One, two three and four, we shall be merry
within this hour.
[Exeunt.
1st. K.
Go, go lock him up: How now, who comes here?
Brett.
Save you, save you, Sir.
1st. K.
And you, Sir; have you any business with me?
Cast.
Yes, Sir, we come to look after a Boy and no Boy; a Wife of
mine that shou'd have been; but as the Stars will have it, I'm like to
find nothing of the matter.
1st. K.
Oh, these I find are the Gentleman told me of: D'ye
hear, go and secure their Swords.
[The Servants snatch their Swords from their Sides.
Brett.
Why how now, what the Devil do you entertain Thieves in
a Mad-House.
1st. K.
Go fetch me a couple of strong Cords—
Cast. Jun.
Cords! What a-Pox, I hope you don't design to Hang
us for your Robbery?
Enter Servants with Cords.
1st. K.
Go, in the first place bind that old Gentleman.
Brett.
How, how bind me? Hark'e, Sirrah, leave prating and
bring me the Boy that was sent in just now.
1st. K.
Poor Gentleman, what pity 'tis a Man of his Years should
fall under such a Misfortune; d'ye hear, Sir, pray make less stir, and
get you to your Chamber.
Brett.
My Chamber! A Pox o'my Chamber; Prithee where's the
Boy?
1st. K.
Hark'e Sir; either go in, and quietly, or we have Whips:
Do you hear, Sir, Whips?
Brett.
Whips?
1st. K.
Ay, Whips.
Cast. Jun.
Oh Lord, O Lord, what a Mad Puppy was I to come
into a Mad-House? 'Tis ten to one but for their diversion they may
whip me too.
1st. K.
Go Lash him soundly.
Brett.
Hold, hold, is the Devil in you? I will go in, Sir, I'll go in
very civilly; but good Sir, let none of your Tormenters come to me;
you have a good-natur'd Face, those Fellows look like Dragons.
Well, Sir, be Civil, and you shall have any thing; but for
these two Days you must Eat nothing, 'twill ease your Fits, Sir.
Brett.
'Twill starve me, Sir, but I must bear it with a Christian Patience.
[They bind him.
1st. K.
Come, Sir, now for you; I'll warrant you'll say you are not
Mad neither; here bring the Whips.
Cast. Jun.
Hold, hold, Sir, you'r mightily mistaken in me; not Mad
Sir, alack a-day I'm very Mad; I was Born Mad: Why you shall
hardly find an English Man madder than I; only there's this difference
between us, I know when I'm well, and that I'm sure they'll never
do.
Enter Lyc. Amadine, Ariena.
Lyc.
Your Servant, Sir, I must intreat you to unbind this Gentlewoman,
and pardon me for making you an Instrument to procure my
Happiness. This Boy (as you think) is that Old Gentleman's Daughter,
whom I have long Loved, and by your industrious Care in detaining
him, have at last Marry'd.
Brett.
How, Marry'd!
Am.
Yes, Sir, and ask your Blessing.
Cast. Jun.
Marry'd! Well, well, I don't care; I'd rather be perswaded
out of my Wife than my Wits: I have been Mad only for a
small time, he that Marries, perhaps may be Mad all days of his Life:
Much good may do you, I say.
Brett.
Nay, I dare not be angry; for it seems I'm bound to my
Good Behaviour: But, Sir, since you are pleased to make bold with
my Daughter against my Will, you won't allow me to be Mad without
my Knowledge: And tho' your bound your self, pray, Sir, be pleased
to free me.
Lyc.
You have your freedom, Sir.
Brett.
And you have my Daughter, Sir.
Lyc.
And that Gentleman has the liberty of choosing where he pleases:
Ha, ha, ha.
Cast. Jun.
What dost Laugh at now, dost know? Why as great a
Fool as I am, I an't Marry'd yet, 'Igad I believe your Money can no
more keep you from being a Cuckold, than mine can me from being a
Fool, as you think me.
Ha, ha, ha.
Cast. Jun.
Ay, ay, Laugh on, Laugh on, some rich Men wear Asses
Ears, and some wear Horns, and 'gad I don't know which is the more
ugly sight o'the two.
Lyc.
Sir, I desire you to accept of this as part of my acknowledgement
for the Service you have done me.
1st. K.
Faith, Sir, I'm very glad 'thas proved to your advantage.
Brett.
'Igad I begin to have a little liking to the business my self too,
for I'm rid of a certain trouble that the Child and that Fool wou'd
have brought upon me.
Cast. Jun.
So, so, I had like to have been made a Madman just now,
but since they failed in that, they're resolved to make a Fool of me.
Ari.
Have you forgot your Niece, Sir, Ariena.
Brett.
Amadine! What I warrant you had a hand in the Plot too.
Ari.
Yes, by my troth.
Brett.
No doubt on't, I always thought you'd make me Mad at
last: But come now let's go, your Servant Landlord that had like to
have been.
Cast. Jun.
And I will never think I have miscarry'd,
As long as I can say I am not Marry'd.
[Exeunt.
SCENE, Flat-Palace.
Enter Thermusa and Eudora.
Ther.
The heartless King's Inexorable grown,
Nor will he alter his Decree: I saw
The dying Ceremonies fixt; the Axe,
The Scaffold, the Procession, Guards, and all
The Curst Attendants of the Train of Death:
Oh my Eudora! Now Night thickens on us;
All its pitchy Clouds, gather apace,
Inveloping my sight, that I scarce see
The fatal Path, I tread, yet I must on,
And whilst Lysander Acts his Part, do ours.
Eudor.
I saw him with your Guards, march toward the Market-Place,
The Season suits with our Designs.
Let's call the deadly Sisters to our Aid
Hell's rankest Monsters, Envy, and Hate
Be Death itself amongst our Train; Nay, Love,
The worst when anger'd, of the black Retinue,
And then advise who first must feel our rage.
Eudor.
Mercy and Pity banish from your Eyes.
Ther.
Alas! They're gone for want of room, my Breast
Is full of every Manly Vertue now,
And I can strike, where, when, or whom the Fates
Or my own Will, the guide of fate enjoyns.
Eudor.
Then, Madam, 'tis the King must fall, and next
The Princess, by Memnon him, and her by me.
Enter Memnon.
Ther.
Oh thou my best, my Bosom Councellor!
I hold thee near my Heart—And you my Lord
Must share it too; 'tis time the Stroke was made;
Why should we keep our Happiness aloof,
Stand shivering near the brink of flow'ring Joys,
When we may plunge into the Depths at once;
My Sword, my Heart, all that is Memnon's, Madam,
Dispose, and order as you please, I'll fly to obey.
Ther.
This binds me to thy Interest, this alone,
The high'st Token of thy Love, engages more
Than all the formal Oaths, the Tears, the Sighs,
Which Whining poor Romantick Lovers make.
Mem.
You add New Courage to my hands, my hopes
Thus wing'd, can mount me above the reach of fears,
Danger, or Death, or any faint Remorse,
Not an Avenging Angel shou'd do more,
To serve Heaven's Pleasure, than I'll act for you,
The Goddess of my Life, and Heav'n alone to me.
Eudor.
'Tis then this hour, my Lord, may crown you both,
'Tis time to act; occasion hates delay,
Stars may tell Tales, and our Designs betray.
Mem.
Think on the Method, Madam, and 'tis done.
That we'll consult within, give me your hand;
Thus shall we shoot the mighty Gulf of Fate,
Escape the Shelves, and weather all the Storms,
The Oceon of our Ends so dangerous made,
In these secure, as on the Continent we stand,
And may behold the battling Billows war;
Their angry Waves in swelling pride arise,
As if our safety they'd a mind to attack,—
Dash at our feet, and break their little spight.
[Exeunt.
Enter King with the Princess at his Knees.
Alien.
Oh my dread Lord! cou'd you but see my heart,
As you might hear its Cries, the mangled Piece
Bleeding, and torn, twou'd fright, if not affect
Your eyes, to some compassion—Oh! relen—
King,
Hold thy hands, trouble me no more,
By all the Gods, I will not hear thee—What?
In my own Court, whence I'd Proscrib'd the Wretch
On Penalty of Life, not only to
Return, but with a Villain's Insolence
T'attempt to Fight, to Murder my best Friend;
Nay, more a Royal Head: By Heav'ns i'll not
Bear this; the Dignity of Monarchs, and the Rules,
The Int'rest of State, will ne'r admit it.
Leave me, I say—
Alien.
O Sir, I cannot:—
About your Knees i'll curle these Armes, my Tears
Shall wash their roots, and I will grow—
For ever here, you shall not stir, or move—
Without their burthen. Oh be patient—
Think what you'r doing, whilst your anger dooms
The best, the bravest of Mankind to Death;
Think of his Services, his Lawrels, Sir,
His Courage, Fortune, Youth, and Vertues prise:
And can you yet be cruel? O no! I see
The Parent in your eyes; Love smiles beneath your Frown:
Send, and recal the fatal Orders.
Again—A way—I am resolved—
Alin.
Oh let it be to think—
That if you thus persist, What will become—
Of your unhappy Daughter? You've oft said,
Nay, swore you loved her, Sir: And can you see
Her plunged in so much sorrow, welt'ring in pains
Worse then the flames of Sulpher can inflict?
Oh Gods! my Father can't be such a Rock.
King,
Unhand me, I grow unweildy with thy weight;
And shall with fury throw thee hence; can'st thou
Take part with any Enemy of mine?
By Heav'ns you'd make a Woman of me,
Bring down my Purposes t'obey your Will,
My Interest, turn and vere, as you shall sigh:
Nay, all my Reason in your Tears immerge;
By all my Pow'r you shall not; I'll by Phraates still,
Lord of myself, and your pitie shall ne'r
Stagger my mind, my soul's above its cry,
'Tis Justice moves me, and the Slave shall die.
[Exit the King, leaves Alind. on the ground.
Alind.
Oh, help me Gods!
I cry, yet 'tis in vain, your ears, your eyes
Are deaf, and blind, to poor Alinda's prayers:
Oh barbarous Father, cruel King; curst Stars,
That influence thus my Fate.—
O passion! tame thy follies, bate thy tears,
Why are these needless Off'rings made?
To woes like thine, thy Life can only be
Their proper Sacrifice — then die Alinda, die—
[Rises.
[The Drums beat a dead March; and Trumpets sound without.]
Oh Gods! what is't I hear? Death's dismal sound;
The fatal March that leads my Artaban away,
To take his last farewel of Earth, and me:
Oh! Horror and Distraction to my ears;
My Artaban, my Artaban, my Lord
[Raving.
O mount not yet,—
That fiery Chariot, e're you seat me there,
Placed by your side, we'll travel o're yon Roads,
Those azure Mountains touch, bate with the Stars,
And in the silver beams of chaste Latona's night,
We'll find a bed to crown our Nuptial-joys;
But oh! where am I?—
My Senses start; This Cordial-drop which my long jealous fears
Prepar'd for hopeless Love, this healing Balm
Shall be my sovereign Cure. T'out-live my Artaban,
Is more then all my Woman's strength can bear:
I must make haste, I dare no longer stay;
Love calls, and the great Summons I obey.
[Exit.
Town, a Scaffold behind the Flat-Palace. The Scene opens, and discovers Artaban led away by a Procession of Guards, bound to a Scaffold, as he is going,—
Art.
And must I still be bound, cruel Phraates?
Amidst thy Guards, do'st thou yet fear my Arms,
These naked Arms shou'd pull thee from thy Throne?
No.—Sit thee there, I envy not thy Place,
Nor wou'd I choose to Live, alas! in Death
What is it makes Men tremble so? to me
'Tis welcome as the Harbour to the Seamen,
When Beat and ev'n drove a Wreck to the Shore;
I see no Horror in it, but a calm Recess
From the loud Clamorous Billows which disturb
The flow's and ebbs of Life, sure 'tis the Form,
The Manner makes them shake; to me 'tis nothing,
I've seen it in as diffrent Shapes, as e're
The Eye of Man beheld, nay, this the worst
I fearl'sly can view, with the premis'd
Formalities, the Mockeries, the Pomp,
The pageant Infamy of my Fate,
And thus to fall is not my Grief; oh Gods!
You bear me Witness that I speak a truth;
Lead on!—
This is the Pedestal by which I mount
[As he ascends the Scaffold.
To yond'r Throne of Brightness, this the Car
In which as Conquer'rs, to Triumph ride—
I'm ready to obey your Warrant, Sir.
[To the Captain.
Capt.
What sounds are these?
[The Trumpets sound as from without; enter Lysander and mounts the Stage; the People shout a Pardon.
Art.
Who is't I see, Lysander?
What's the Message?
Lys.
'Tis from the Queen, with which she bids you clear
Your passage to Alinda's arms.—
Art.
Ha! Alinda, saidst thou?
Yes, I will live to see her—
Capt.
Hold your Orders, Sir.
[The Capt. opposes him; Art. fights clears the Stage, and drives the Guards before him.
Art.
I bear them in my hand—
The Scene changes, the King's Apartment.
Enter the King, solus.
King,
Oh Heavens! what mean these Ghostly Fear
Why do I stiffen, as if my Destiny
Was drawing on!—I beg for ease, and yet
Your loads oppress; nay, tho I strive to shake
You hence, your Darts still goad me;
My pains increase; But where's the hidden Wound?
Oh! that's within, a throbbing conscious Guilt
That spight of all Resolves upbraids me, with
A Life ill-spent, discovers to my veiw,
The History of past, and present Crimes;
Tells me of Death, of large Accounts to come,
And Punishments unknown: What makes you thus
Disturb me? Why at present, when i'm well?
I have not leisure to contemplate now;
My veins are full of youth, my hands are vigorous,
The sounding voice of War delights my ears,
Bea'ties bright Charms, yet appetites my eyes,
Avaunt, and when the reverend Marks of Age
My Winter'd Head shall snow, the Crutch support
My falling steps, I call you to my thoughts,
Sum up my Farwel-Exit to the World,
And sink into a Grave of Peace: Oh Gods!
Than barely Apprehension's force in this:
My Soul, by its eternal Beams, sees more,
Than to the Elements of Sense she speaks at large,
Pointing the Effects, but never marks the Cause.
If I must die, Oh all the Powers above!
Pronounce my Doom, 'twill be some ease to know
The utmost Malice of my boding Stars.
Enter Thermusa as the King speaks.
Ther.
Why is my Lord disturbed?—
King.
I'm feeling for the cause,
As Men at Midnight when they've lost their way.
Ther.
'Tis strange you shou'd not know it, Sir, and yet
Let Rebel Fancy so usurp your sence.
King.
'Tis true, I don't
Only a mist of things sits hovering here,
Sad melancholy Thoughts, faint Chymera's,
Such as disturb our Careful Nights, and creep
In Slumbers to our Brains, flashes of Light,
Which soon in smoaky Shades evaporate,
And nothing leave but sulphurous shine behind.
Ther.
'Tis much beneath you, Sir, to give them head.
King.
Thou dost not know, Thermusa, what a weight
A tainted Conscience bears; thou'rt Innocent,
Thy Hand unspotted; Nay, thy Heart is free,
Mine both are deeply plunged in Murtherous Gore.
Ther.
Granting they have been so; Whence do they now
So terrible appear?—
King.
There I'm to seek—
But yet as Clouds before a Showers approach,
Ruffle, and Croud thick in a Grove of dark,
These do so too, which makes my trembling Heart
Presage impending dangers near my Head.
Ther.
Your vanquish'd Spirits like a Coward rout,
Fly, e're they know for what, till tired they'll stand
And miss the cause, they rally then again.
King.
Oh Empire! had I felt thy weight before,
Ambition to my Arms the burthen bore;
Thy boasted Grandeur, and Eternal Name,
Shou'd e're my Soul in such a Scarlet dy'd,
To glut the hunger of thy tow'ring Pride.
Oh! What can wash it white? Rivers and Seas,
Are all too shallow for such Blots as these.
The Watry Element hath not a Flood,
To cleanse the Stain of Paricidial Blood.
[Enter Memnon behind and stabs him, he falls.
Oh, I faint—
Upon thy Bosom let me lean a while;
Oh my profetick fears!
Must all my Glories hence their period date?
Are there no bars to stop prevailing fate?
Then down vast Pile, sink to thy funeral Dust,
Your Ruin speaks, th'Almighty Gods are Just.
[Dies.
Mem.
My ready Hands have your Commands perform'd,
And thus I run to clasp my bliss—
Ther.
Hold off—
Mem.
How, Madam! Have not my Actions purchas'd yet
Your favours?
Ther.
They have, and I'll reward them,
[Falls on the Dead Body, as the Guards enter.
Guards, seize the Traytor.
Oh my dear Murther'd Lord—
Mem.
Am I betray'd? Then Love I blow thee hence;
Spirit of Hate drawn from the Lees of Nature,
Assist me now, whilst thus I act Revenge—
[Stabs the Queen, Guards seize him.
Ther.
Curst Villain!
But thus thou shalt not brag thy Treachery,
Bear him away, and let the Murderer taste
The subtil'st Pains e're tortur'd Wretch yet felt,
Worse than the Damn'd partake, or Devils invent.
Mem.
They're Merciful to thee, nor shall I find,
In Hell a Fury worse than Womankind.
[Carry'd off by the Guards.
Enter Artaban, Lysander and Guards.
Art.
What is the meaning of this Scene of Horrour.
Queen.
Oh Artaban! E're to the Shades of everlasting Night
My Soul its Journey makes. Hear me,
I must be short my Summons calls me hence;
Love was the cause of this, and Love to thee,
For thee, Great Phraates fell by my Command;
For thee, I met my Fate by Memnon's hand;
Alinda was the next that must have fell;
Forgive me, and my Death will prove a Blessing.
[Dies.
Art.
Alinda! Was she meant a Sacrifice?
What barbarous hand wou'd crop so sweet a Flower?
But Oh, her very Name has chill'd my Blood:
Lysander, my kind dearest best of Friends,
If thou woud'st have me Live, Conduct me to her.
Enter Emillia.
Emill.
Oh, Sir, this Scene of horrour you behold,
Comes short of what must follow your poor Alinda.
Art.
Ha! my heart bodes horrour.
Em.
Deny'd your Life by her remorseless Father,
In wild Despair she took a fatal Draught,
That will with racking Torments end her Life.
Art.
Oh Gods! my fears prove true.
Enter Alinda led by two Women.
Alin.
I burn, I burn, I'm all one Funeral Pile;
A flaming Bolt shoots thro' my hissing Veins;
Not as young Phaeton's Wheels that drove the
Sun and set the World on Fire.
Art.
Why was I born
To see this Day! What will the Gods do with me.
Alin.
Oh for a Rock of Ice, a Bed of Snow
To lull my pains, and hush my sleeping Feaver:
Here, take me quick, throw me into the Sea,
Pour Oceans o're me, Plunge me, Sink me, Drown me,
If all the Waters of the Deep can quench
My blazing Mines of Fire.
Art.
No pittying God!
No aiding Power to drop these lovely Ruines.
Alin.
Stand off, and let me go, I'll mount the Pole,
Drive round the Northern Wain, and freeze to a Star.
Oh 'tis a Glorious Chariot, ha, ha, ha.
Sherumna, Phraates, Artaban, look there,
Yonders my Love, Oh 'tis a fine old Gentleman.
Hang on his hoary Beard a front of Snow,
Soft as the Down of Doves, and Cool as Charity.
Art.
Answer my aking Heart, speak Life my Fairest.
Alin.
Nay, I have choice of Lovers, if that old dull
Winter Fool don't like me, he has a Rival
Will be more kind, kind Death: Yes, he'll be
Kind indeed; no angry Kings will hinder me
From his Embracing Arms; he has a Nuptial-Bed
Prepar'd for poor Alinda.
Art.
Sweetest Innocence
Yet speak to thy mourning Artaban.
Alin.
Ha, my dear Artaban, and art thou come,
To hand thy poor Alinda to her Grave!
'Tis kind, 'tis wondrous kind; but how more kindly
Had our Stars smil'd, might I have Liv'd, my
Artaban! What a long thousand thousand Years of Love
Which those dear Arms had given me, have I lost!
But I am not so poor; what Earth has robb'd me off,
The Gods will give me back: There we shall meet
No Rival Queens, nor Tyrant Fathers part us,
There I shall mount to everlasting Joys,
To Love Heaven and Artaban.
[Dies.
Art.
She's Dead, she's Dead, that Soveraign of my Soul
Has left the World and me; and dares this Traytor,
This Rebel heart out-live the fatal Blow?
No; Love's fair Martyr, thou hast reacht Heaven before me;
But thus I'll post to follow thee.
[Falls on his Sword.
The Eternal Gordian's ty'd; so now no Tyrant's Sword
Shall cut these Bonds of Love: Ah my Alinda,
I'll find the out in the blest Walk above:
In that last Path my Love can never stray,
Thy own bright Beams, fair Saint, shall light thy way.
Cast. Sen.
Farewel, young Hero: Was ever Faithful Pair like this?
When these
Last Wounds the Seals of Truth and Love they give,
How have they Dy'd, to shew us how to Live.
| Neglected Virtue : or, the Vnhappy Conquerour | |