 | The Virgin Prophetess : or, The Fate of Troy |  |
ACT. II.
The SCENE a Pallace.Enter Helen and Astianax.
“Hel.
Why, what has Paris don to Thee, Astianax,
“That He so far falls short of Hector's Virtue?
“Ast.
My Father Hector was a Greater Man,
“Elder in Birth, in Courage, and in Virtue.
“Paris may Fight, but cares not what's his Cause.
“Hel.
His Cause and Hector's, Child, were both the same.
“Ast.
No, Madam, you are mistaken there; One was
“The Base Defence of a most impious Rape:
“I mean the Rape of Menelaus, not Helen:
“His Love, his Honour ravish'd, not his Wife.
“She found a way t'avoid that Insolence.
“Men say,
“He used but little Violence on You.
“Hel.
You are are pleasant, my young Lord.
“Ast.
But not pleas'd, Madam,
“I am old enough to know I should be angry.
“I tell ye, Paris had a shameful Cause,
“Base and dishonest, Hector's, Great and Glorious.
“The just Defence of his Insulted King,
“His Country, and his Friend. For Friends in Honour,
“Ne'er ask, what is your Cause, or who's your Foe,
“But where. So Hector Fought, and bravely dyed.
“You were indeed,
“The Cause he dyed, but not the Cause he Fought for.
Hel.
This must be tutour'd all, Cassandra's Lesson.
Ast.
Fair as you are, and form'd t'en flame Desire,
I would not be my Wicked Uncle Paris,
For all the Wealth of Troy, or Charms of Helen,
“Hel.
Your wicked Uncle! Fye! You shou'd not say such things.
“Ast.
You shou'd not do such things.
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Who taught you this!
“Ast.
Why! she that made my Uncle impious, you!
“Who taught me this! A little teaching serves
“To speak a Publick Truth. Who taught me?
“Hel.
Your are too angry Child! too bold.
“Ast.
Were I a Man you'd find me bolder still;
“For then I'de Punish, when I now but Chide.
“Hel.
My little Hero, thou begin'st too Early
“So young an Enemy!
“Ast.
Were I a Prince in Pow'r as well as Birth,
“I'de be your Friend, and shame you into Goodness.
“Hel.
How now!
“Ast.
Nay! Madam keep your angry Looks for those
“Were born your Slaves, vile things that crouch beneath ye;
“Keep 'em for Paris when he checks your Pride.
“I am borne a Prince, the Godlike Hectors Son,
“Heir to his Soul, which never knew to fear
“Or Man or Woman's Frown. He Scorn'd
“Your Sexes shallow Arts, and so dare I.
“Can thus walk by those mighty Killing Eyes
“Regardless of your Frowns, or Smiles.
Enter Cassandra.
Hel.
Cassandra here! Nay then the Riddle's Plain:
'Tis she's the Tu'rtess to this Insolence.
But I will so receive Her.—
Cass.
Why turns the Royal Helen from my Sight.
The lost Cassandra Prophecy's no more.
No more of Ill's foreseen, and hateful to your Ears,
I come to bring you Now—But if your Majesty.—
Hel.
If you thought Majesty my Title, Madam,
You wou'd have bred Your Pupil there to Manners.
The Boy there has been Rude.
Ast.
Boy! still the Boy! I tell thee, gay vain thing,
This Boy whome thy tall Pride disdains, wears a
Superior Soul to thine; and dares be Honest.
Cass.
No more young Prince, thy Passion drives too far;
And I shou'd chide thee now. A more sedate
Behaviour suits a Prince: Do so no more.
“Ast.
I see and do confess my folly now!
“And if I durst wou'd ask her Royal Pardon.
“Another time my Courage may asist me.
[Exit.]
“Hel.
The Meekness of this Boy confounds my Anger,
“And makes me think I have deserv'd the Thoughts
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“Nay she, Cassandra too, with such a Friendly Check
“Reprov'd his Fault, that I have no Gall for her.
Cass.
Oh Helen! yet,
Give me one Moments gracious Hearing.
Not the bright Christal Mirrour that reflects,
The Early Roses of your Morning Smiles,
Your Glass shall look you fairer then I'll speak you.
Hel.
You may be heard Cassandra.
Cass.
Fair I confess you to Divine Perfection.
At your Creation sure no less then all
Th'Immortal Consult sate.
Hel.
Nay now thou play'st the Flatterer.
Cass.
No, Madam,
How can I flatter when I only speak
That Truth a whole Contesting World has prov'd?
Helen the loveliest Flow'r in Natures Garden,
Cropt from her Native Bed, at no less Price
Than ten Years War, and Thousand Thousand Lives.
Such th'high-priz'd Jem the Mourning Grecian lost,
His own just Right, as fast as holy Vows,
And plighted Souls could bind.—
No vile State-Interest, no Tyranick Pow'r
Of Prince or Parents tyed that sacred Knot:
No blind Boys random Shot of loose Desire;
Here Love had Eyes, and weigh'd the Worth he chose.
Before th'attesting God's
The sacred solemn Vows were register'd in Heav'n.
Hel.
Oh whither wou'd she drive!
Cass.
You lov'd and were belov'd: not His alone,
But your own Joys you Crown'd. Your Days, your Nights,
Your every hour of chaste and lawful Love,
Ran all with Sands of Gold. Your mingling Wishes fill'd,
The Measure up till Love cou'd heap no more.
Hel.
Oh Peace of Mind too well remember'd!
Cass.
This was a Life indeed! Think, Beauteous Helen,
Had'st thou then laid those lovely Sweets in Dust,
Died in the Bloom of Innocency and Beauty,
How had thy fragrant Memory built o'er
Thy chaste mourn'd Ashes such a Monument
Where kneeling Virgins wou'd have wept and pray'd,
Offer'd their Garlands and their Vows of Love:
The pious Matrons too, with thankful Praise
Had bless'd the Gods for their fair Sexes Glory.
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Mankind had rais'd to such Immortal Virtue!
Hel.
Oh my sick Heart!
Cass.
All this, alas! far short of what remains,
The popular the empty Praise of Virtue:
But oh the bright Reward, the solid Bliss
The evercircling Joys above, that had
In Truths fair Race adorn'd thy radiant Brows!
Not Cassiopæa's Chair nor Ariadnes Crown
Had matcht the Beauteous Helen's starry Diadem.
How had'st thou shin'd in Heav'n! Oh Virtue, Virtue!
The Lights that Spangle o'er yon' Milky Way
Are all but Jems for thy Immortal Crowns.
Hel.
Where will this end?
Cass.
May some kind Guardian Pow'r in whispers tell thee,
Had this fair Masterpiece of their Creation
A Soul but half as Beauteous as her Eyes,
How had'st thou Reign'd above!
But, (oh fair falling Star!) is it not pity
That th'all-commanding loveliest Form on Earth
Shou'd want a Throne in Heav'n!
Hel.
Hold, Charming Tyrant,
Stab my soft Peace no more; for, oh, I feel
The Coward in my Heart, and Woman in my Eyes!
Cass.
She Weeps! Bless'd Heav'n, she Weeps! Oh the rich Worth
Of that soft falling Dew! There's not a Pearl,
Drops from those Eyes in this relenting Cause,
But bears a Price might Bribe th'Eternal Throne.
Cherish this melting Thought. Oh shake of all
Thy Earthly Load, and wing thy Beautious Soul
To bright Immortal Joys.
Enter Paris.
Par.
What do I see!
My Weeping Love, my Clouded Heav'n in Tears!
What Impious Insolence, what profane Breath—
Hel.
Alas! my Paris I have heard—
Par.
That Schrech-Owle—
Yes, thou accurst Tormentor,
I read th'illnatur'd Triumph in thy Face.—
But, oh, my Mourning Fair—
Cass.
Oh Helen! If the Voice of Truth has open'd
Thy Darken'd Eyes to the Fair Light of Heav'n,
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Lull thee to thy fond sleep of Death no more.
Guard thy Immortal Treasure! Fly! Oh fly
That dangerous Thief would Rob thee of a Soul,
And steal thy Blest Eternity away.
Par.
Oh! thou Eternal Bar to all my Joys!
Do not provoke my too unmanly Vengeance:
Take thy Face hence, and thank thy Sex thou livest.
Cas.
Bane to thy Country's Peace, adultrous Boy;
Stain to thy Blood; from thee, thou Fate of Troy,
Curs'd by thy very Mother ev'n Unborn,
When from her Womb she Dreamt the Firebrand torn,
Thy Blushing Sister takes her weeping Eyes;
Not from thy Threats, but from thy Shame she Flyes.
Hel.
Oh Paris! Why is Love the Joy of Life,
Yet not the Child of Peace!
Par.
The Great Immortals
Made Love and it's Best Joys
Of their own Heav'ns a Copy drawn so Fair,
That th'envying World renews the Gyant's War.
At its bright Throne their level'd Fury flyes:
Thy Jove my fair, their feeble Rage defyes.
Down on thy scatter'd Foes my Vengeance hurld,
Arm'd in thy Cause, I'll stand the Rebel World.
[Exeunt.
The Temple of Diana.
Within a Large Dome, are Erected five Pyramids, planted in a Cemicircle, each Pyramide Twenty two Foot high; at the Bottom of each Pyramide is a Pedestal five Foot and a half High; on each Pedestal stands a Figure (being so many young Women about 13 or 14 years of Age) drest in Cloth of Gold, representing Diana, Juno, Pallas, Ceres, and Thetis; Diana as being the Goddess of the Temple, being the Front and Central Figure of the five. These figures (supposed Statues of Gold) are each of 'em drest properly, with their several Regalia of each Goddess, as Diana with a Bow in one hand and a Quiver in the other. Juno a Crown and Scepter. Pallas a Lance and Gorgonshield. Thetis a Trident and Anchor. Ceres a Sickle and Cornucopia. The Enrichments of each Pedestal and Pyramide being also composed of the Trophies, &c. of the respective Goddesses.
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Cass.
I tell ye, Priests, the Gods are not appeas'd:
In vain you come to pay your solemn Vows
At Great Diana's Shrine for Troy redeem'd.
How can th'Avenging Sword of Heav'n be sheath'd,
When th'Impious Cause that pull'd the Vengeance down,
Still unrepented Reigns?
Priest.
We must not hear the Bounteous Gods profan'd:
If your relenting Heart can joyn our Sacrifice
T'were well; if not you must retire.
The Vocal Musick.
Thou Goddess all celestial bright,
Diana, Heav'ns fair Virgin Light.
Of all the Heav'nly Beauties, thine
The clearest Beams, the purest shine:
For, Oh, thou Chastity Divine,
There's spots in every Star but thine.
Thou Heav'n born Maid, yet greater still,
Who singly thy bright Orb to fill,
No sharer in thy Throne,
True Monarch reign'st alone.
See, round our Walls
What Tryumph calls?
Our Foes they fly;
Our Fears they die.
The kindest Powers
Of Heav'n, are ours,
Thou Guardian of the Trojan Tow'rs.
To thee these solemn Rites we pay,
The Laughing Joys of this great Day,
In Smiles we thank, when 'tis in Tears we pray.
“Cass.
Now hear my Vows, and let Heav'n judge between us.
“Thou Great Diana whose pale borrow'd Beams,
“In absense of the Glorious Sun, afford,
“A Lesser Day till Day himself return;
“Oh now! so Guide us in this dark Condition,
“Inform our weak short-sighted Thoughts, if yet
“This doubtful Dawn of Peace suppos'd, be Peace
“Indeed: Or is it Night with Troy for ever!
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“Let me be Dumb, and Prophecy no more.
“But if the Will of Heav'n it's Doom decree,
“And Heav'n has spoke that Will resolv'd by Me.
“Let now some sudden Portent from above
“Cassandra's Frenzy or your Vengeance prove.
Here it Thunders, and immediately in a Moment, all the Golden Statues of the Goddesses are chang'd from Head to Foot into Black.
Cass.
Now unbeleiving Trojans since your Ears
Have been so deaf to all my Cries from Heav'n;
Beleive the Gods themselves. Will their own Voice
Of Thunder, and these dreadful Sights convince ye?
Priest.
What Sights!
Cass.
Their very Statues all Transform'd
In dismal Sable shrow'd their glorious Heads,
And seem to Mourn the headlong Fate of Troy.
Priest.
Madam, 'twould ill become our Holy Function
T'insult what is not Yours, but Nature's Fault;
This Profanation else wou'd be enough
To make those very Images, if possible,
Blush thro' their burnisht Gold. In pity therefore
To your unhappy Frenzy we retire.
[Exeunt Priest.
Cass.
Nay! now 'tis plain;
The louring Destinies and angry Gods
Are only visible to these poor Eyes,
And walk in Clouds to all the World beside.
Why was I born to bear this painful Load,
To know, foresee and speak your dreadful Will,
With this hard Curse, onely to Preach your Oracles.
To an unlist'ning World, Oh strike me ever Dumb?
Or lend that World an Ear. And why, Oh why!
For one Offenders Guilt, my impious Brothers Crimes,
Must all Troy perish! I have an Aged Father,
His hoary Head white as the Mountain Snow.
I have fifty Brothers too, the numerous Off spring
Of a blest genial Bed, all my own Veins;
Part of my Life, and dearer then my own.
Must they all Dye! Is there no Expiation!
Has the whole ransack't World not one rich Sacrifice
To Court your Heav'n, and Seal the Peace of Troy?
'Tis don'! my Prayers are hear'd! my Heart's inspired,
And dances with unusual Bounds of Joy. 'Tis so!
My Brain divines; the Goddess comes, and see
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Dart through the Roof of the illumin'd Dome;
The lanquid Tapers lose their sacred Light,
The Jems, the Riches, of the holy Shrine
All lost in a superiour Lustre. Ha! 'tis she.
The fair chaste Deity her self; the Immortal Presense
Strikes my weak sense, and bends me to the Earth.
Diana descends in a Chariot.
Diana.
Look up Cassandra,
A Virgin's Prayer can call down Heav'n to hear her.
Thy heavy Plaints have mov'd the pitying Gods
To moderate, tho' not revoke thy Sentence.
My Brothers Doom against thee stands irrevocable,
Thou must speak Truth, but never be believ'd.
Though yet in Fate remains one only way
To save the destin'd Troy from Flames and Ruin:
Of which in Pity to thy Labouring Pangs,
Diana warns thee now. There's yet one Expiation,
One Sacrifice will yet atone the Gods.
Cas.
Oh speak Celestial maid! Name, name the Victim,
And Crown it with a Thousand floury Garlands.
Diana.
Hear then what's fixt in Fate, and ask no more.
If a fair Virgin born of Royal Race
Shall like a second Iphigenia yeild
Her pious Breast up to the Grecian swords,
And falls their Bleeding Victim, then that single
Atonement shall appease the Wrath of Heav'n,
Reverse the Doom of Troy. But if refused
Troy's Doom is seal'd for ever.
[The Goddess reascends.
Cass.
Then bright Mercy.
[Rising from her Knees.
Thus I rise up from my low Bed of Tears,
And with a Face all blooming o'er with Joy
Stand the erected Pillar of my Country,
And thus look up to thank the Generous Gods.
Yes my dear Troy, and dearer Father, Brothers, Sisters,
And all Troy's thousand Lives, there is one Sacrifice,
A Virgins Breast—Oh 'tis a Glorious Victim!
Timbrels and Flutes, and all the Ayrs of Joy;
A hundred Io Pæans sing before me!
Nor the pleas'd World alone—If your Bright Heav'ns
Have Musick in their Spheres, tune, tune 'em now!
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The blest Cassandra shall her Country save.
But where's my Robes of Glory! Where's the Virgins
To dress me gay in all my Nuptial Pride.
For Oh, I go, oh the Immortal Joy!
A Smiling Bride to Wed the Peace of Troy.
[Exit.
| The Virgin Prophetess : or, The Fate of Troy | |