University of Virginia Library

SCENE changes to the Palace.
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,
And whom her People with such Joy obey.

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,
With Eyes cast down, he faintly said, I am
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?

Pirot.
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,
If I offer'd to prevent his passage,
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,
The flames of which shall strait consume their Joy;
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