 | Zelmane : Or, the Corinthian Queen |  |
14
ACT. II.
SCENE. A Prison.Amphialus Solus.
Amph.
Again the bold Arcadians gather head,
And with strong Squadrons do molest our Peace.
And I the Queen must instantly obey,
Whose strict Command does send me to the Camp,
Yet e're I go, I must behold my Love,
And take one parting kiss to guard my Life.
Methinks I hover like a frighted Bird,
About the place where she has built her Nest,
When she suspects the danger of her Young.
Oh! all ye Powers that favour constant Love,
With kind auspicious smiles look down and bless
The justest Pair in all the numerous train.
(Knocks.
15
Pirot.
Prince Amphialus! what business brings
Your Highness hither.
Amph.
Thou know'st the Princess is my Prisoner,
To her this visit is intended now
I fain would know how she her Fortune bears
in this strange turn of Fate.
Pirot.
My Lord, it was her Majesties Command,
That none should enter without her Signet.
Amph.
Am not I excepted?
Pirot.
None, my Lord, but Prince Arbaces.
Amph.
Ha! Prince Arbaces! Oh ye too partial Stars,
Why have you mark't that Monster out to pull
Destruction on me.
(aside.
Wilt thou Pirotto be my Friend in this,
Permit me enter, and conceal it from the Queen.
Pirot.
My gracious Lord, my King, I ought to say,
Since Great Zelmone's voice confirmed the Grant,
Pirotto's Interests, Sir, shall still be yours,
Though much I fear the rashness of this act,
And what resentment for't the Queen may shew.
Amph.
She shall not know how kind Pirotto is,
And this great favour binds me ever yours,
'Tis business of importance which I bear
To the Arcadian Princess, nor dare I
To impart it, or thou my Friend should know.
This on my Honour take, 'tis not to wrong
The Queen.
16
I do believe you, Sir, and will comply,
That way to her Apartment leads, your Visit must
Be short, least my breach of Duty be discover'd.
Amph.
Conclude me wholly thine.
(Exit.
Pirot.
Conclude from hence thy Ruin, haughty Prince,
I know he loves this Beautious Captive Maid,
Which Love shall cost him dear, if I can plot.
Oh Father! rest within thy silent Tomb,
Yet think not I forget the wrongs to thee,
Thou once like him wer't Corinth's General held,
Till proud Amphialus out-stript thy Age,
And from thy shaking Hand the staff did wrest,
And tower'd o're thee while but yet a Boy,
The thought of which cut deeper than thy Years,
And spur'd thee forward to thy dark Abode,
For which, and for the Indignities I suffer,
I'll glut me with revenge, Oh sweet revenge!
My Heart as much ambition holds as his,
Yes, and as great a Soul inhabits here,
As Prince Amphialus could ever boast,
I could have fought and conquer'd too like him,
Had I been honour'd with a Generals Name.
Confusion! what am I? a Jaylor, Oh!
But I will stifle all my rage, and listen to their fond Discourse.
I banish hence all thoughts, but such as may
Instruct my labouring Brain the surest way,
To make their Lives my want of Grandeur pay.
17
Enter Amphialus.
Amph.
See where the charming Antimora sits,
Calm and serene as in her better State;
Nor has a Prison power to change her Mind.
Joy to the Crown of all my wisht content,
The kind, the fair, the lovely Antimora.
Ant.
'Tis you must bring it then, for there's no Joy
Beside my dear Amphialus's Faith.
Amph.
'Tis thine, so wholly thine, there's not a Sigh
That heaves my Breast, but whispers Antimora,
M'observant Mind retains no thought but thee,
Thus could I gaze for ever on thy Face,
And mighty reason justify my Eyes,
So fast my Soul is link't by Love to thine,
That I could die for thee without a groan.
Ant.
Can I not boast an equal strength of Love,
Oh sure no Maids did ever equal mine,
For the Arcadia's most delightful Plains
Are quite forgot, and all the pompous Court,
Is nothing in my thoughts compar'd with thee,
These Prison-Walls when thou'rt inclos'd within,
Brings more delight than Liberty and Empire,
'Tis the wide World and all I want is here.
18
Oh Words as soft as is the down of Swans,
And Voice more sweet than are their dying Notes,
Ant.
My Unkle now that fills Arcadia's Throne
Whose loss of Victory I should more lament,
Had he not conquer'd been by thee, but now
I scarce can pay the Duty which I ought,
Because he is declar'd thy mortal Foe.
Oh Amphialus! if those Vows can bind,
That Hymen crown'd when I became thy Slave,
I beg—
Amph.
Ha! say'st thou!—stop that hated Word—my Wife.
(embraces.
Ant.
That thou Ambition wouldst no more pursue,
But give up all to Love.
Amph.
I would—be witness every Star that shines.
But 'tis not in my power—nor must I tell the Queen,
That Antimora's mine, by Marriage mine,
Oh the transporting Joys that fill that thought
Is far above a Mortal to describe.
Ant.
Will then the Queen Zelmane prove unkind,
Thou saidst my Ransom should thy Service pay;
Is it denied, or wilt thou never ask it?
Amph.
I dare not let the weighty secret go,
Least the sad tale destroy her peaceful Hours.
(aside
That yet I've not requested of the Queen,
The Liberty I promis'd to restore,
Is that her half Brother Prince Arbaces
Got the start, and begg'd he might address you,
I know th'attempt could bring no ill effect,
Tho' leave was given him, thou wert left to chuse.
Ant.
Oh name him not, my Soul abhors his sight.
I've oft been treated with his nauseous Love,
I long for freedom to avoid that suit,
Tho' Love's the same in every Humane Breast,
19
Tho' each may charm some tender Maid to pity,
What wins the one, the other cannot move,
And so it is with me, Amphialus,
When first I saw thee in my Fathers Court,
I felt a gentle beating at my Heart
,
And e're thou spok'st, I lov'd thee.
Amph.
Oh Sympathy! thou dear revealer of our Souls,
At that instant that my Eyes beheld thee,
That Dart rebounded from my Breast to thine.
Oh I could talk whole Ages of our Love,
And yet untir'd tell the Tale again.
Ant.
And I like Eccho could repeat the sound,
And wish for nought but Liberty and thee,
What Musick flows from those dear Lips of thine,
What soft what sweet inchanting strains I hear,
No tempting Syren ever charm'd like thee.
Oh Love!
What vast addition does thy Words receive,
When utter'd by Amphialus; and Oh!
What do they suffer when another speaks them.
Amph.
Oh Antimora! cease, cease thy transports,
Or I forgetful of my Queens Commands,
Shall stay for ever here.
Ant.
Oh my boding Soul! what does she Command?
Amph.
I'll tell thee sweet, but do not be dismaid,
This Morning from the Camp Express arriv'd
That some few Squadrons of the Enemy,
Had burnt some Towns on our Corinthian Coast;
And I have Orders to draw out my Men,
And send Dispatches to the place distrest.
Methinks my Courage is but half awake,
Cause 'tis against thy Subjects I must fight.
20
Oh how I dread the approaching Scene of Fate,
Not for my Country, but for thy dear Life;
My Heart with violence beats against my Breast,
And makes my poor Bosome sore with striking.
Yet go,
For painful are the Hours we pass in doubt,
But Oh! be careful of thy precious Life,
Press not too far for Antimora's sake;
Make hast, my Love, be swift in thy return,
Then ask my freedom and declare our Marriage.
Amph.
Thou choicest Blessing that the World e're knew,
I will with utmost diligence thy Laws obey.
But I conjure thee by our holy Fires,
Let not the secret of our Marriage scape,
Till I my self reveal it.
Ant.
It never shall be told by me, till you
Permit, by our chast Loves I swear, an Oath
I would not violate for Corinth's Crown:
No Matter what your reasons are for that,
Amphialus can never break his Faith.
Amph.
When I to Antimora prove untrue,
May I be branded with a Cowards Name,
And lose the Honour I have gained in War;
Nay more, may you despise and scorn me too.
(embraces
Ant.
Oh all ye Guardian Stars protect my Love,
My Lord, my Life, my Husband, I charge ye,
Permit no insiduous Slave to hurt him,
But shield him from the fury of the War.
When thou art gone, what can my Eyes delight,
Thou art my Sun, and when we part 'tis Night.
No dawn of Comfort will my Sorrows know,
But sad and dismal as the Shades below,
Where poys'nous damps and sickly vapours grow.
21
Till thy return 'twill all be darkness here.
Amph.
So Merchants beaten by tempestuous Winds,
Unlade their Wealth and leave it all behind,
Though much of toil it cost to gain the store,
They're forc'd to part from what their Souls adore;
So I by Duty and by Honour drove,
Am torn away from that bright Saint I love.
(Exeunt severally.
The Prison shuts.
Pirotto solus.
Pirot.
Thou for thy Love, fond Prince, shalt dearly pay,
If this projecting Brain deceive me not,
I've laid a Scheem with Machiavilian Art,
Beyond the power of Magick to undo,
Oh for the Prince of Scythia now to aid,
And help my lab'ring Soul in this design,
He comes as if infernal Furies meant,
To lend an Arm to push the mischief on.
Enter Albaces.
My Lord, I have surprising News to tell,
That will your noblest Faculties inflame.
Arb.
Say's my Friend, dost thou then bring me comfort,
Or must I ever languish in despair.
22
If to know your Mistress hates and loaths you,
More than Insects of a poys'nous kind,
Or to inform you that her Heart's bestow'd;
Or if to tell you that these Eyes have seen,
Transports as great as ever Lover gave,
Can bring you comfort, then you have it, Sir.
Arb.
Thou wouldst inform me of a Rival sure,
Yes, that silent Bow declares it. Name the Wretch,
And let my fury loose—Who is the curst, the happy he?
Pirot.
Who but Amphialus durst presume so high,
To stamp his Image on Arbaces Coin.
Arb.
Amphialus! Oh all ye Powers I thank ye.
How know you this?
Pirot.
I overheard their whole Discourse.
Arb.
My Soul a double portion of revenge takes in,
I feel the addition of this last discovery,
My Heart with malice swells to such a pitch,
As makes my Breast too narrow for its room.
Oh Pirotto! if e're I favour'd thee,
In ought thy Soul most wish'd for here on Earth,
Assist me now to blast this spreading Cedar,
To lop his choicest strongest Branches off,
And leave his Trunk unguarded to the Wind,
Whose blasts shall shake and tear him from the Earth.
Pirot.
Be calm—
And give your anger scope another way,
The Captive Princess you have leave to visit,
Who now y'are certain never will be yours,
I have contriv'd and smooth'd a ready way,
To satisfie your Love and your Revenge,
And wound Amphialus in the tend'rest part.
Arb.
I understand thee, and my Veins beat high,
And all my Sences seem to dance with Joy.
Yes, Antimora, yes, thou scornful fair,
23
Rifle thy Secrets with such profuse excess,
That in an instant shall a surfeit bring,
Then to my hated Rival leave thee.
Pirot.
Then throw the Guilt on him,
Arb.
Excellent; and so to Scythia take our way,
Where I, my Friend, will make thee Great.
Pirot.
I'll to the Queen, where I such things will tell,
As shall confound her Reason, and destroy her Love.
This for my proof—
(Stabs his Arm.
Arb.
What mean'st thou?
Pirot.
Within I'll tell you all my fix'd design,
Be yours the pleasure, and the Plot be mine.
Arb.
Let me embrace thee, thou Genius to Arbaces,
Thy Plots like Hydra's Heads succeed so fast,
They out-strip the Tongue and leave even thought behind.
Fly to the Queen and rouze the Woman in her,
Urge all that malice can invent or form,
To blast this curst Usurper of my right;
Whilst I such mighty draughts of bliss receive,
As strong desire could wish or mighty Beauty give.
(Exeunt together.
24
Enter Queen and Geronta.
Queen.
Geronta, faithful Courtier, tell me why,
Thou Phænix of thy kind, dost thou pursue,
The Steps of thy unheeding Queen so close,
That lead both her and thee she knows not where.
Ger.
Your pardon, Madam, and I'll tell the cause
Why I presume so far.
(kneels.
Queen.
Rise and speak.
Ger.
I saw a Cloud hang on that Royal Brow,
And marks of sorrow in your lovely Eyes,
Down your rosie Cheeks trac'd pearly Showers,
Which spoke the discontent that lodg'd within,
And if it may'nt be boldness thought I would
Enquire the cause that thus destroys your Beauty.
Queen.
Away, my Charms are dead and useless now,
And pale as the Image of approaching Fate.
Ger.
What means my Queen, why do you talk of Fate,
Are you not drest with every Princely good,
Your magnanimous Soul does nothing want,
That Man can boast or Art could ever teach;
What Subject e're complain'd in vain to you,
No, Justice is the Clew that guides your Life,
And Charity the practice of your Mind,
Mercy the sweet Companions of your Days,
And your matchless Piety crowns 'em all.
What ean she dread whose Vertues shine so bright,
25
Queen.
Oh Geronta! this Queen thou praisest so,
Is slighted, scorn'd, despis'd and worthless grown,
Where most she wish'd to reign.—Oh torture!
Ger.
What Traytor dares offend the Queen?
Queen.
Amphialus, yet do not call him Traytor,
It is a Name too harsh—Oh Geronta!
He grasps my Heart, nor can I loose his hold;
My Father heard the early praise I gave,
Still as his Actions sounded were by Fame,
He saw my growing Love, and thought he blest
Us both.
Ger.
Permit that I in his behalf may plead,
And tell your Majesty my humble thoughts:
So unexpected came the Glorious Gift,
It struck with admiration all his Sence,
And turn'd his transports to amazing silence.
Queen.
Oh! no, my Friend, for I will tell thee all,
When he receiv'd my Orders for his March,
He bow'd, and thank'd me for the trust impos'd,
But with a Look so cold, it froze my Heart,
And chill'd my thrilling Blood to Balls of Ice,
Least the attending Crowd might cause that awe,
I bid 'em all retire, then blest him with a smile,
And wish'd his quick return to Corinth:
My Eyes, had he observ'd 'em, spoke so plain,
He might have read the secrets of my Soul.
Ger,
Then flew he not with eager Lovers haste,
To embrace the condescention of a Queen.
Queen.
Oh! no,
With such oppression did he seem to breath,
As spoke intollerable pain of Mind,
He sigh'd so deep, as if the threads of Life
Were to their utmost limits stretch'd by Fate,
26
Not worthy of your gracious Favours.
Ger.
This spoke his Modesty, and in my Sence, his Love.
Queen.
Wou'd I cou'd think so too, but 'tis impossible.
Without regard to Greatness or my Sex,
I advanc'd and reach'd my Hand out to him,
He trembling kneel'd and breath'd upon't a Kiss,
Colder than Ice, cold as the damp of Death,
And then abruptly left me.
Ger.
Profound respect must be the cause of this,
For yet I cannot think Amphialus,
Whose innate Vertue shines so clear in all
The great unspotted Actions of his Life,
Can want a Soul susceptible of Love,
When Zelmane is the Beauteous Object.
Queen.
Oh! cease to salve what does too plain appear,
He cannot Love me, that's what he would say,
But shame has bound his guilty Tongue from speech.
Why was I made a Queen? or, rather why,
Died I not when first my Eyes saw light,
Then had my Infant Soul from cares been free,
From Clay dislodg'd swam in Ætherial Air,
Unknowing of the jealous pangs of Love,
But I by Fate for greater Woes design'd,
Endure the lingring tortures of the Mind,
Of all the ills the Gods did e'er bestow,
A more acute one ne'er did Nature know.
Enter Pirotto, his Arm bound up.
Ger.
Ha! Pirotto! why that confused look,
And whence those bloody Marks upon thy Arm?
27
I know not what to say, but wish I could
Conceal the Author without breach of Faith,
But when the safety of my Queen's concern'd,
I must betray him, though 'twill wound her too.
Queen.
Say'st thou, am I in danger, quickly speak,
Who gave the Wound?
Pirot.
Amphialus was the Man.
Queen.
Ha! the reason.
Pirot.
Cause I obey'd your Majesties Command,
And did refuse to let him see the Princess;
At first he said, he by your Order came,
But when I ask'd him for your Royal Signet,
He drew his Ponyard forth, and cry'd, 'tis there,
Then fix'd it in my Arm.—
Queen.
Oh unparalell'd presumption!
Ger.
Let not rage transport your Royel temper,
He could not, did not say these Words, no thou
Dost bely him, thy canker'd Soul has form'd
This Plot to work the Generals ruin;
I know thou look'st with envious Eyes upon him,
Because the goodness of the Queen has plac'd him high.
Pirot.
My Soul disdains such base perfidious treachery,
Nor can you love the General more than I,
My Tears will flow in spight of all my wrongs,
To think I should accuse the brave Amphialus.
Queen.
No, by th'all seeing Sun he does not wrong him,
Yes, now I know for whom I am despis'd,
Confusion!
Am I a Queen, or have I lost my Pride.
Say, what pass'd there more between you,
I charge you, omit not the smallest circumstance.
Pirot.
He swore by all his Love for Antimora,
Such was the Imprecation he did make,
28
He'd sheath the Dagger in my Hearts warm Blood,
Death in that Moment so unlook'd for came,
That it surpriz'd my Courage and my Sence,
And quite depriv'd me of the means of succour,
My Arm disabl'd and my Thoughts confus'd,
He drove me Headlong where the Princess sate,
And forc't me stay till he had ta'en his leave.
Queen.
Keep back ye signs of Woman in my Eyes,
And let the fierce and scorching Fire of Rage,
Dry up the moisture of my Love-sick Brain.
Pirot.
Swift as desire he leapt into her Arms,
And kiss'd and prest her blushing Face to his,
And in a transport cry'd, my Life, my Dear.
Queen.
Disappointment blast their eager Joys,
As thou hast ruin'd mine.
Ger.
If Madam—
Queen.
Away, and plead not for the Monster,
I'll only hear Pirotto speak, go on,
Go on thou Screetch-Owl, breath the voice of Fate,
It is thy Queen that listens to thy tale.
Pirot.
They kneel'd, and oft repeated mutual Vows
Of kind, of tender everlasting Love,
And said, his constant Heart could know no change,
Then wisht her Queen of Corinth.
Queen.
Hear you that, my Lord,—Oh my malignant Stars,
I shall be murder'd by this very Rebel.
Ger.
Oh! all the Powers forbid that anxious thought:
Dispatch a Messenger and bring him back,
And let him answer to this bold Accuser.
Queen.
He cannot, his guilty Soul durst not behold my Face.
Pirot.
Her faultring Tongue with Lovers wishes deckt,
Oft blest her Hero, and in Tears retir'd.
Queen.
My jealous Pride takes Fire at thy Description,
29
Yes, by my unequall'd wrongs, the Princess dies.
Ger.
Oh banish such a thought from out your Royal Breast,
That would violate the Law of Nations,
Who ever treat their Pris'ners tane in War
With due respect to all their Qualities.
Queen.
But when their Captives do conspire their ruin,
'Tis policy of State to let 'em die.
Rouze, rouze my Soul, shake off these Chains of Love,
Expunge his Image from thy lab'ring Mind,
And break the secret Cords that hold thy Heart,
Let base Pleibeians groan beneath the curse,
A Queen should never stoop to be refus'd.
Pirot.
How I applaud my self for this brave deed.
(aside.
Queen.
Yes, Traytor, yes Ingrate, thou soon shalt find,
What 'tis to abuse and to reject a Queen.
The bloody Sisters pains, Ixion's Wheel,
Shall pleasures be to what this Wretch shall feel;
Great as my wrongs shall his dire suff'rings prove,
And none is greater sure than slighted Love,
'Tis that for which Souls sigh for bliss in vain,
And Hells worst torture is this wracking pain.
(Exeunt
| Zelmane : Or, the Corinthian Queen | |