 | The Cruel Gift |  |
The SCENE changes to the Princess's Apartment. She is discover'd reading.
Leon.
Here have I met a Tale so mourn'd by Ovid,
So tenderly express'd to move our Pity,
Where Canace, by her Father's dread Command,
Presents the Dagger to her panting Breast.
Ha! why am I alarm'd at this?—Her Guilt
Is what my chaster Bosom never knew;
And yet methinks I feel a Fear upon me.
Enter Lady.
Lady.
Oh! pardon my Intrusion, Royal Madam,
The King denies without to hear us speak;
But with a sullen clouded Brow demands
To see you instantly—
Leon.
He does not use to treat me thus; but go,
Call in my Women, and leave free the Passage.
Enter Ladies, and stand behind her. Then the King and Guards.
King.
Guards, wait without.
Leon.
My Royal Father.
[Rises.
King.
Dismiss your idle Train;
This is a Scene of Life for us alone,
And where you'll find there's no Attendance wanted.
Leon.
Whatever, Sir, you purpose to relate,
Your Daughter yet has never learn'd to fear.
Ladies, withdraw—
[Ex. Ladies.
King.
And art thou then so harden'd in thy Crimes?
Oh! let my Heart forget a Father's Fondness!
Let softer Pity fly to suff'ring Saints,
Nor once invade the Conference we hold.
Leon.
I cannot guess the Tale you mean to tell,
But by your Aspect know it must be dreadful.
Oh! all ye Powers who see, and rule this World,
Give me, in this severe Extremity,
My Father's Soul, to stand my Father's Charge,
My Mother's Purity's already mine!
King.
Ha! dar'st thou name thy Mother, vile Contagion?
She was all Virtue.
Leon.
Oh! do not look so fiercely on your Child,
[kneels.
The only Relict of your once lov'd Queen;
But turn your Eyes, and see mine drown'd in Tears;
Those Eyes which you've so often kiss'd, and swore
They wore the dear Resemblance of my Mother;
Which to preserve from that Destroyer, Grief,
You cou'd forego the gay Delights of Empire.
Oh! with that Temper now, that former Fondness,
Hear, and forgive the Errors of my Youth.
King.
Blast me, ye Powers, if ever I forgive!
No, I will punish thee as thou deserv'st;
Remove the Cause that led thy Soul astray,
And shew thee what it is to love a Slave.
Leon.
Unhappy Leonora!
King.
I'll have, for ev'ry Kiss the Traytor gave thee,
By which he stain'd the Glory of his King,
His Flesh by Morsels torn with Pincers off,
And make a Passage for his lustful Blood,
To wash those Spots away.
Leon.
Avert it, Heav'n! On me wreak all your Vengeance;
On me, on me your Daughter, let it fall:
But spare the Man which I first taught to love;
If not for me, oh! for your own Sake spare him!
Spare your Defender, for your Kingdom's Sake;
Let him not fall (by whom we're all in Safety)
A Victim to a Politician's Malice.
King.
Perish that Kingdom with thy self and me,
Whene'er I save a Traytor from the Stroke.
Leon.
Oh! Royal Sir, revoke those killing Words,
And call his Services to your Rememb'rance;
The glorious Victories which your Arms have won,
Under the Conduct of my Lord Lorenzo:
'Twas he that sav'd your Cities from your Foes,
And made the Laurel flourish on your Brow:
Remember too, how much you lov'd him for't;
Your Praise it was that drew my Eyes that Way,
And your Esteem created one in me.
King.
Away, and loose thy Hold! why dost thou hold me?
Think'st thou to sooth me with thy Eloquence?
Leon.
Oh! 'tis the subtil Malice of Antenor;
He looks with envious Eyes upon him,
Because you plac'd him in his Son's Command,
And dash'd his Hopes, that durst aspire to me.
What Trains of Mischief proud Ambition brings!
Hate, Envy, Jealousy, and Death spring from it.
It breaks all Ties of Blood, all mutual Faith,
And even levels Liberty with Chains.
Oft in the Crimes of one ambitious Man
Have many guiltless Nations been involv'd.
King.
Well hast thou describ'd that curss'd Ambition
Which rais'd the Viper that my Smiles had form'd,
To wanton with the Honour of his King:
But he shall suffer long convulsive Pangs,
And vainly ask us for the Stroke of Grace.
If, as thou say'st, that thou dost live by him,
Then when he ceases to diffuse his Warmth,
Thou, like some puny Insect, must expire,
And, dying, curse the Author of thy Shame.
Leon.
Oh, do not think my Fault exceeds Forgiveness!
My Soul's not conscious of a Crime 'gainst Virtue;
I challenge Envy for a seeming Cause,
That my fair Innocence would blush to own.
King.
Audacious Wretch! have I not seen thee wanton?
Loll on his Bosom, and devour his Kisses?
Confusion! dar'st thou to talk of Virtue?
Leon.
Alas! the only Place of Rest for Leonora,
Is in her faithful Husbands Arms.
King.
Ha! what say'st thou?
Leon.
He is my Husband; yes, my wedded Husband;
Remember, Sir, you left me free to chuse;
Then, what I chuse, do not unkindly kill.
King.
Patience, good Heav'n, or I shall kill her too;
I would not spare him now, to save my Crown;
No, this Confession does but wing his Fate;
Off, or I'll spurn thee from me.
Leon.
Go on, go on, and satisfy your Rage;
[rises.
Try all the Racks Antenor can invent,
And all that Majesty incens'd can form,
And see with what a Constancy of Mind
I am prepar'd to meet your Indignation.
I feel my Spirits gather to my Heart,
And man it out with Courage for the Tryal.
The Ardour of my Flame can ne'er abate,
'Tis chaste and holy as the Vestal Rites;
And if you'll rip this Breast that heaves with Love,
You'll find his Image sit triumphant there.
King.
So, brave! but wherefore does my Vengeance loyter?
Soon shall thy loasted Constancy be try'd.
Yes, Trayt'ress! I will teach thy Disobedience
What 'tis to wound the Fondness of a Father,
And make the Heart drop Blood, that doated on thee.
Leon.
Kill me this Moment.
King.
I disdain the Proxy;
He, he, for whom thou hast abandon'd Duty,
Betray'd a Parent, and disgrac'd a Throne;
He shall return the fatal Stroke upon thee.
Hug his Idea, dwell upon his Memory;
For dearly hast thou bought him—at the Price
Of Honour—of thy Father—and a Crown.
[Exit.
Leon.
Oh dreadful Resolution!
Hear me, Father! oh, hear me but one Word!
He's gone, he's gone, and with him all my Hopes.
Now, ye malicious Stars, your worst prepare,
Unite your pois'nous Force, and fix it here.
Let Want of Thought my too much Thought destroy,
Let me for Refuge into Madness fly,
At once unknowing both of Pain and Joy.
But oh! I rave and waste my idle Breath;
Fain I'd preserve him from inglorious Death.
To save my Husband, I will hazard all,
Or bravely perish with him in his Fall.
Exit.
Enter Antimora and Learchus.
Anti.
Stay, my Learchus, I was looking for thee.
Can'st thou forget the Transports of my Grief,
And all that it produc'd, when last I saw thee?
Lear.
Ask thy own Heart, my Love, when thou wouldst know
The most important secret Thought of mine;
For there I treasure all my Good or Ill.
Anti.
I'm calm and gentle now, as heretofore;
No Fire my Eyes, nor Rage my Heart contains;
My Tongue no Curses vent against thy Father:
Nay, if thou wilt but answer my Request,
I can forgive the Jnjury.
Lear.
What can the Ruler of my Fate intend!
Anti.
Oh! if thy Love but equals half my Woe,
Thou wilt be kind, and ease my aching Bosom.
Lear.
Is it in me to give thy Sorrows Ease?
And do'st thou, can'st thou doubt of my Compliance?
My Heart springs forth to be instructed how
That I may leave ev'n Thought behind to serve thee.
Anti.
Thus then, my Brother, by the King condemn'd
To suffer in Extremity of Torments,
Th'Idea wounds my Heart beyond Expression,
And only thou can'st save me from Despair.
Wilt thou! Oh! wilt thou promise me Relief,
Now when I beg it in extreamest Need?
[kneels.
Remember once thou wast a Suppliant too,
Low at my Feet, as I am now at thine;
I pity'd thee, and wip'd thy Tears away.
Lear.
Oh! rise, my Love, and rack my Soul no longer,
But tell me quickly what this Boon can be,
That thou do'st ask at such a Distance of me;
This Ceremony, and this Expectation
Makes it painful to me.
Anti.
Thou, only thou, can'st ease thy self and me,
Then mark me well, my Brother is thy Pris'ner,
Let him escape, and I'm for ever thine.
Lear.
Oh, Antimora! how thou shock'st my Duty!
But have a Care, make not a Villain of me;
Do not thou press me to betray my Trust;
Who forfeits Honour, will be false to Love;
And well I know thou ne'er would'st Love me after,
Tho', hurry'd now with Fondness for thy Brother,
Thoud'st have me do what thou thy self would'st blame,
And hate me, ev'n whilst thou thank'd'st me for't;
There is but this one Thing I cou'd refuse thee.
Anti.
Wilt thou deny my first Request, Learchus?
And wil't thou dare to mention Love hereafter?
Lear.
Send me to Lyons raging in their Den,
Long Time pent up, and rav'nous for their Prey;
Command me to encounter Hosts of Foes,
Tho' certain Death attends on ev'ry Side,
And see how readily I will obey thee;
But what concerns my Country or my King,
Love even wants Temptation to betray.
Anti.
Under this feign'd Allegiance thou would'st hide
Thy ancient Hatred to my Brother's Name;
But I have found thee out thro' all thy Turnings,
And here I cancel all our former Vows;
Be every Thought of thee torn from my Breast,
And Enmity eternal grow between us;
This Hand, on which thou ha'st so often swore,
And kiss'd, and breath'd thy false pretended Flame,
I'll give to him that sets my Brother free,
And rack my self, to be reveng'd on thee.
[Exit.
Lear.
Was e'er Condition so forlorn as mine?
At once fond Love and Duty tear my Bosom.
Love bids my Heart obey without Controul,
But Duty checks my Love, and awes my Soul:
Of these two great Extreams which shall I take,
Shall I my Mistress or my King forsake?
To both I would be faithful, did I know
What Method I could take to make me so.
Direct me, Heav'n, amidst these Doubts that rise,
Which to preserve, and which to sacrifice.
[Exit.
Leon.
Here have I met a Tale so mourn'd by Ovid,
So tenderly express'd to move our Pity,
Where Canace, by her Father's dread Command,
Presents the Dagger to her panting Breast.
Ha! why am I alarm'd at this?—Her Guilt
Is what my chaster Bosom never knew;
And yet methinks I feel a Fear upon me.
Enter Lady.
Lady.
Oh! pardon my Intrusion, Royal Madam,
The King denies without to hear us speak;
But with a sullen clouded Brow demands
To see you instantly—
Leon.
He does not use to treat me thus; but go,
Call in my Women, and leave free the Passage.
33
King.
Guards, wait without.
Leon.
My Royal Father.
[Rises.
King.
Dismiss your idle Train;
This is a Scene of Life for us alone,
And where you'll find there's no Attendance wanted.
Leon.
Whatever, Sir, you purpose to relate,
Your Daughter yet has never learn'd to fear.
Ladies, withdraw—
[Ex. Ladies.
King.
And art thou then so harden'd in thy Crimes?
Oh! let my Heart forget a Father's Fondness!
Let softer Pity fly to suff'ring Saints,
Nor once invade the Conference we hold.
Leon.
I cannot guess the Tale you mean to tell,
But by your Aspect know it must be dreadful.
Oh! all ye Powers who see, and rule this World,
Give me, in this severe Extremity,
My Father's Soul, to stand my Father's Charge,
My Mother's Purity's already mine!
King.
Ha! dar'st thou name thy Mother, vile Contagion?
She was all Virtue.
Leon.
Oh! do not look so fiercely on your Child,
[kneels.
The only Relict of your once lov'd Queen;
But turn your Eyes, and see mine drown'd in Tears;
Those Eyes which you've so often kiss'd, and swore
They wore the dear Resemblance of my Mother;
Which to preserve from that Destroyer, Grief,
You cou'd forego the gay Delights of Empire.
Oh! with that Temper now, that former Fondness,
Hear, and forgive the Errors of my Youth.
King.
Blast me, ye Powers, if ever I forgive!
No, I will punish thee as thou deserv'st;
Remove the Cause that led thy Soul astray,
And shew thee what it is to love a Slave.
Leon.
Unhappy Leonora!
34
I'll have, for ev'ry Kiss the Traytor gave thee,
By which he stain'd the Glory of his King,
His Flesh by Morsels torn with Pincers off,
And make a Passage for his lustful Blood,
To wash those Spots away.
Leon.
Avert it, Heav'n! On me wreak all your Vengeance;
On me, on me your Daughter, let it fall:
But spare the Man which I first taught to love;
If not for me, oh! for your own Sake spare him!
Spare your Defender, for your Kingdom's Sake;
Let him not fall (by whom we're all in Safety)
A Victim to a Politician's Malice.
King.
Perish that Kingdom with thy self and me,
Whene'er I save a Traytor from the Stroke.
Leon.
Oh! Royal Sir, revoke those killing Words,
And call his Services to your Rememb'rance;
The glorious Victories which your Arms have won,
Under the Conduct of my Lord Lorenzo:
'Twas he that sav'd your Cities from your Foes,
And made the Laurel flourish on your Brow:
Remember too, how much you lov'd him for't;
Your Praise it was that drew my Eyes that Way,
And your Esteem created one in me.
King.
Away, and loose thy Hold! why dost thou hold me?
Think'st thou to sooth me with thy Eloquence?
Leon.
Oh! 'tis the subtil Malice of Antenor;
He looks with envious Eyes upon him,
Because you plac'd him in his Son's Command,
And dash'd his Hopes, that durst aspire to me.
What Trains of Mischief proud Ambition brings!
Hate, Envy, Jealousy, and Death spring from it.
It breaks all Ties of Blood, all mutual Faith,
And even levels Liberty with Chains.
Oft in the Crimes of one ambitious Man
Have many guiltless Nations been involv'd.
King.
Well hast thou describ'd that curss'd Ambition
Which rais'd the Viper that my Smiles had form'd,
To wanton with the Honour of his King:
But he shall suffer long convulsive Pangs,
35
If, as thou say'st, that thou dost live by him,
Then when he ceases to diffuse his Warmth,
Thou, like some puny Insect, must expire,
And, dying, curse the Author of thy Shame.
Leon.
Oh, do not think my Fault exceeds Forgiveness!
My Soul's not conscious of a Crime 'gainst Virtue;
I challenge Envy for a seeming Cause,
That my fair Innocence would blush to own.
King.
Audacious Wretch! have I not seen thee wanton?
Loll on his Bosom, and devour his Kisses?
Confusion! dar'st thou to talk of Virtue?
Leon.
Alas! the only Place of Rest for Leonora,
Is in her faithful Husbands Arms.
King.
Ha! what say'st thou?
Leon.
He is my Husband; yes, my wedded Husband;
Remember, Sir, you left me free to chuse;
Then, what I chuse, do not unkindly kill.
King.
Patience, good Heav'n, or I shall kill her too;
I would not spare him now, to save my Crown;
No, this Confession does but wing his Fate;
Off, or I'll spurn thee from me.
Leon.
Go on, go on, and satisfy your Rage;
[rises.
Try all the Racks Antenor can invent,
And all that Majesty incens'd can form,
And see with what a Constancy of Mind
I am prepar'd to meet your Indignation.
I feel my Spirits gather to my Heart,
And man it out with Courage for the Tryal.
The Ardour of my Flame can ne'er abate,
'Tis chaste and holy as the Vestal Rites;
And if you'll rip this Breast that heaves with Love,
You'll find his Image sit triumphant there.
King.
So, brave! but wherefore does my Vengeance loyter?
Soon shall thy loasted Constancy be try'd.
Yes, Trayt'ress! I will teach thy Disobedience
36
And make the Heart drop Blood, that doated on thee.
Leon.
Kill me this Moment.
King.
I disdain the Proxy;
He, he, for whom thou hast abandon'd Duty,
Betray'd a Parent, and disgrac'd a Throne;
He shall return the fatal Stroke upon thee.
Hug his Idea, dwell upon his Memory;
For dearly hast thou bought him—at the Price
Of Honour—of thy Father—and a Crown.
[Exit.
Leon.
Oh dreadful Resolution!
Hear me, Father! oh, hear me but one Word!
He's gone, he's gone, and with him all my Hopes.
Now, ye malicious Stars, your worst prepare,
Unite your pois'nous Force, and fix it here.
Let Want of Thought my too much Thought destroy,
Let me for Refuge into Madness fly,
At once unknowing both of Pain and Joy.
But oh! I rave and waste my idle Breath;
Fain I'd preserve him from inglorious Death.
To save my Husband, I will hazard all,
Or bravely perish with him in his Fall.
Exit.
Enter Antimora and Learchus.
Anti.
Stay, my Learchus, I was looking for thee.
Can'st thou forget the Transports of my Grief,
And all that it produc'd, when last I saw thee?
Lear.
Ask thy own Heart, my Love, when thou wouldst know
The most important secret Thought of mine;
For there I treasure all my Good or Ill.
Anti.
I'm calm and gentle now, as heretofore;
No Fire my Eyes, nor Rage my Heart contains;
My Tongue no Curses vent against thy Father:
Nay, if thou wilt but answer my Request,
I can forgive the Jnjury.
Lear.
What can the Ruler of my Fate intend!
37
Oh! if thy Love but equals half my Woe,
Thou wilt be kind, and ease my aching Bosom.
Lear.
Is it in me to give thy Sorrows Ease?
And do'st thou, can'st thou doubt of my Compliance?
My Heart springs forth to be instructed how
That I may leave ev'n Thought behind to serve thee.
Anti.
Thus then, my Brother, by the King condemn'd
To suffer in Extremity of Torments,
Th'Idea wounds my Heart beyond Expression,
And only thou can'st save me from Despair.
Wilt thou! Oh! wilt thou promise me Relief,
Now when I beg it in extreamest Need?
[kneels.
Remember once thou wast a Suppliant too,
Low at my Feet, as I am now at thine;
I pity'd thee, and wip'd thy Tears away.
Lear.
Oh! rise, my Love, and rack my Soul no longer,
But tell me quickly what this Boon can be,
That thou do'st ask at such a Distance of me;
This Ceremony, and this Expectation
Makes it painful to me.
Anti.
Thou, only thou, can'st ease thy self and me,
Then mark me well, my Brother is thy Pris'ner,
Let him escape, and I'm for ever thine.
Lear.
Oh, Antimora! how thou shock'st my Duty!
But have a Care, make not a Villain of me;
Do not thou press me to betray my Trust;
Who forfeits Honour, will be false to Love;
And well I know thou ne'er would'st Love me after,
Tho', hurry'd now with Fondness for thy Brother,
Thoud'st have me do what thou thy self would'st blame,
And hate me, ev'n whilst thou thank'd'st me for't;
There is but this one Thing I cou'd refuse thee.
Anti.
Wilt thou deny my first Request, Learchus?
And wil't thou dare to mention Love hereafter?
Lear.
Send me to Lyons raging in their Den,
Long Time pent up, and rav'nous for their Prey;
Command me to encounter Hosts of Foes,
Tho' certain Death attends on ev'ry Side,
And see how readily I will obey thee;
But what concerns my Country or my King,
38
Anti.
Under this feign'd Allegiance thou would'st hide
Thy ancient Hatred to my Brother's Name;
But I have found thee out thro' all thy Turnings,
And here I cancel all our former Vows;
Be every Thought of thee torn from my Breast,
And Enmity eternal grow between us;
This Hand, on which thou ha'st so often swore,
And kiss'd, and breath'd thy false pretended Flame,
I'll give to him that sets my Brother free,
And rack my self, to be reveng'd on thee.
[Exit.
Lear.
Was e'er Condition so forlorn as mine?
At once fond Love and Duty tear my Bosom.
Love bids my Heart obey without Controul,
But Duty checks my Love, and awes my Soul:
Of these two great Extreams which shall I take,
Shall I my Mistress or my King forsake?
To both I would be faithful, did I know
What Method I could take to make me so.
Direct me, Heav'n, amidst these Doubts that rise,
Which to preserve, and which to sacrifice.
[Exit.
| The Cruel Gift | |