University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

The SCENE draws, and discovers Leonora sitting on a Couch, her Women weeping round her.
LEONORA.
Why do you weep? why do those Fountains flow?
Whilst I, for whom this mighty Grief is shown,
Have not one Tear to mingle with your Sorrows.
Leave this unprevailing Source of Woe, begone;
Eternally your Mistress bids adieu;
And thou, Verona, Mistress of this Kingdom,
Whose crouded Streets with Acclamations rung,
When e'er I deign'd to grace 'em with my Presence,
Prepare thy sable Weeds to mourn me now;
For the next Sight which draws thy People forth,
Will be the Obsequies of Leonora.

Lady.
Oh! who unmov'd can see your great Distress,
And yet refrain from weeping?

Leon.
Cou'd you, like Niobe, express Concern,
And into weeping Marble be transform'd,
You cou'd not add one Grain of Ease to me.
Go then, and let my Fame be all your Care,
That when this wretched Body is no more,
No Calumny may rest upon my Name.
My Lord Lorenzo, my renowned Husband;
Yes, I'll proclaim in Publick to the World,
That he's my Dear, my faithful wedded Husband;
For his great Soul's adorn'd with Kingly Virtues.
Away, deluded Thoughts of what has been;
For oh! alas! I fear he is no more.
Both Courage, Prudence, Fortitude, and Love,
Center'd in him, and Honour kept the Guard;
And this—deliver to Posterity,
I glory more i'th' Title of his Wife,
Than that of Princess, Daughter to a King;
Nay, more than of that Crown my Father wears.

Enter Page.
Page.
Madam, the Lord Learchus craves Admittance;
He says he brings a Message from the King.

Leon.
Admit him then, what e'er his Business be;
The jarring Passions of my Soul are hush'd,
And ev'ry warring Faculty is calm;
The King and Fate can shock my Peace no more.

Enter Learchus in Mourning, and one following him with a Cup.
Lear.
Before my Tongue disclose the fatal Message,
That will, I fear, unhinge your Reason quite,
Oh! let me kneel, and in this humble Posture,
Obtain your Royal Pardon, for obeying
The fatal Orders of the King your Father.

Leon.
Rise, my Lord, and speak your Message.

Lear.
Oh that it were not to be spoke by me.
Lorenzo is—

Leon.
Dead! There I help'd you forward—Why, 'tis well,
You see I faint not; then proceed, I pray,
Tell me, come tell me how my Husband fell;
For all my Senses are to Hearing turn'd,
And I can listen to the fatal Tale:
But thou'rt his Foe, and will not do him Justice,
Nor speak the mournful Message of his Love.
Thou com'st to triumph o'er my endless Grief,
And satiate thy inveterate Hate on me.

Lear.
This Task, this hateful Task, was not my Choice,
But forc'd upon me by the King my Master:
Yet when I wrong Lorenzo's Memory,
May Truth forsake my Soul, and Speech my Tongue;
The vital Blood that circles in my Veins,
Congeal to Ice, and stop the Springs of Life.
Your Husband fell most resolute and brave,
And your Idea open'd Heav'n before him.
Tell her, said he, I charge her not to grieve,
Since he who falls a Martyr for his Love,
Still sinks with Honour equal to the Field;
And Death for her brings greater Pleasure far,
Than a whole Age of Life without her Love.

Leon.
Oh, matchless Constancy!
You see I do observe his last Request.
Tears are the Tribute which a Girl can pay;
Too poor a Task for Leonora's Eyes.
When she wou'd mourn a faithful Husband's Loss,
Inward, ye Fountains, turn your liquid Springs,
And round my Heart collect your baleful Streams,
Whilst Sighs supprest, augment the swelling Tide,
And raise it up to such Extremity,
'Till one dire Groan the fatal Tempest break,
And Life and Grief at once rush out together;
Then I shall find my dearest Lord again.

Lear.
My Heart, I fear, will fail me in my Purpose;
Oh most lamented Princess!

[aside.
Leon.
Ha! what, another Exclamation?
Then there is something sure remains behind;
Some dreadful, monst'rous, matchless Scene of Woe,
Whose horrid Birth, even thou, Antenor's Son,
Seems fearful and unwilling to disclose.

Lear.
There is indeed; oh! how shall I relate it?
Or where find Words of soft and gentle Sound,
To cloath the fatal Business of my Errand?

Leon.
Ha! support me, gracious Heaven.

Lear.
Within this Cup; oh! can I live to speak it!
The King presents you with your Husband's Heart?

Leon.
Ah! (shrieks)
Tyrant, Murderer, most inhuman Father;
Patience! oh Patience! whither art thou fled?
Fury, Distraction, aid my lab'ring Brain;
Start ev'ry Nerve, and burst, ye throbbing Veins,
Diffuse your Blood, to quench his eager Thirst;
Oh barb'rous Rage! oh matchless Cruelty!
Hear me, just Heav'n, and hurl thy Vengeance down
Quick, blast the Authors of this cursed Deed.
Let Earth be barren, and the Sea be dry,
Each Tree consum'd, and ev'ry Herb destroy'd;
Let universal Chaos reign again,
And hide this Object in its sable Womb.
But why waste I my Time in fruitless Wishes?
My Husband chides me for this long Delay;
I come, my Love.

[Snatches at Learchus's Sword.
Lear.
Forbid it, Heav'n, that you shou'd touch your Life.

Leon.
'Tis Hell forbids it; thou, the ruling Fiend;
Thou hast prevented me! Oh gracious Act!
From thee! from thee, who gave Lorenzo Death:
But Grief, like mine, will find a thousand Doors to let in Death.
These Hands shall crush the Organs of my Life,
And stop at once this Breath replete with Misery.

Lear.
Fly, and acquaint the King with her Resolves;
And beg his Presence, to allay the Storm.

[Ex. Attendant.
Leon.
Oh, my Lorenzo!
For thy Death, curss'd be this fruitful Lombardy,
May Rapine wake her Genius from Repose,
And in her Cities place the Seat of Famine;
May Tempests lay her stately Fabricks waste,
And make her Desolation great as mine.

Lear.
Royal Madam.

Leon.
Interrupt me not with that detested Voice;
Give me the precious Relict of my Love;
The noblest Heart that ever Man possess'd;
Nor will I part with it, 'till Life forsake me;
Nor when I die, for here I'll have it plac'd,
[points to her Breast.
A sacred Pledge, and Witness of my Truth;
The surest Token for my Lord to know me,
When in the other World we meet again.

[Exit.
Lear.
Upon your Lives guard her with strictest Care,
And let no Means of Death be near her.

Enter Agonistus.
Ago.
My Lord the King is coming hither.

Lear.
'Tis well; and are my other Orders all obey'd?

Ago.
Exactly; but see, the King appears.

Enter King and Guards.
King.
Hast thou in ev'ry Part perform'd our Will?

Lear.
I have, great Sir.

King.
'Tis well; I've sent Antenor to the City,
To quell the Riots there; and that once past,
I shall again possess my Crown in Peace.
Those Drones, pretending to have Stings, appear,
And in full Body would arraign my Justice.
In vain the Foxes wear the Lyon's Skin,
Without the Lyon's Strength—But say,
How does our Daughter bear her Minion's Death?

Lear.
The Royal Dame, like Roman Matrons, bore,
Unmov'd and calm, the mournful Tale of Death.

King.
Then is half my Vengeance lost.

Lear.
But when I nam'd your Present of his Heart,
Both Majesty and Reason quite forsook her,
And wild Destraction shook her beauteons Fabrick.
She rav'd, and curss'd her self, and all the World;
Then took the Relick of her much-lov'd Lord,
And vow'd to part no more.

King.
Thou dost revive me with this Story.

Lear.
Oh, Royal Sir,
My Heart is swoln with excessive Sadness.
Oh! could my Eyes, instead of Tears, shed Blood,
They could not, sure, express the dreadful Scene,
Which by your fatal Order was display'd.

King.
Art thou so tender in thy Nature!

Lear.
Oh! think upon the mourning Princess, Sir,
That peerless Monument of loyal Truth,
Whose Soul disdains to be out-done in Love,
But vows to die for him, as he for her;
Then ask your Heart, if all's at Peace within?

King.
And art thou grown her Advocate, Learchus?
Antenor will not thank thee for the Office.

Lear.
My Father, even in his Height of Hatred,
Would weep to hear the Sorrows which I saw.
Oh, Royal Sir! what must your Subjects do,
When that sad Day to Lombardy arrives,
Wherein your Majesty must yield to Fate?
Who will be worthy found to fill your Throne,
When beauteous Leonora is no more?
The Child unborn will curse that hasty Doom,
By which you have destroy'd the noblest Pair
That ever Hymen join'd in Nuptial Bands.

King.
Name it no more, I do not care to think on't;
I wish thy Father had but half thy Virtues.

Lear.
Lorenzo gave a Packet to my Hands,
Which he receiv'd, he said, from an old Hermit,
With full Instructions for your Majesty.

King.
Where is the Packet?

Lear.
He did intreat I would return it to him;
And I perform'd his last Request with Care.
But the same Hermit waits without, to tell ye,
With heavy Heart, the great important Story.

King.
Admit him strait.
Enter Hermit.
What would you, venerable Sir, with me?

Her.
These twenty Winters I have pass'd in Prayer,
From Noise of Courts, and Bustle of the Great,
Bound by a Vow to expiate my Sins,
And save a Child which thou hast taken from me.
Lorenzo, whom the Lord Alcanor bred,
And still, for weighty Reasons, call'd his own,
Was only Son to me; his Hand I join'd
Where Love, long since, had join'd his tender Heart;
Even to thy Daughter, the Princess Leonora.

King.
Ha! and dar'st thou justify this Treason?
Is the base Offspring of a dreaming Priest
Worthy to rule, and mingle with my Blood?
I know you well; all your Humility
Consists in outward Form, a mere Disguise
To cover Pride and bold Ambition with!
Which still aspires to teach and govern Kings.
But know, that Garb of Sanctity, grave Sir,
Shan't awe my Hand from punishing a Traytor.
Guards, seize him.

Her.
Hold! know'st thou this Face, my Kinsman, tell me?
Or has thy Memory lost the Duke of Milan?

King.
Ha! the Duke of Milan! Oh! my Uncle!
Why would you, Sir, conceal your self thus long,
And draw this Load of Guiltiness upon me?

Her.
When he—
Who now usurps my Dukedom, drove me out,
From Court to Court, I sought in vain Relief.
Your self in War, unable to assist me,
The Tyrant grew in great Alliance strong,
And ev'ry Prince refus'd to shelter me;
One Ev'ning, as I walk'd alone in Venice,
And melancholly musing what to do,
Having receiv'd my Orders to depart,
I met a Hermit, who call'd me by my Name,
And told me all the Failings of my Life;
Then bad me enter holy Orders strait,
And expiate my Sins in fervent Prayer.
Full twenty Years, if this I well perform'd,
My Son, he said, should wear a Regal Crown,
And I should be again restor'd to Milan.
But if before that Term of Years expir'd,
I lagg'd, or once repin'd at what I bore,
My Son and I should perish—Oh fatal Thought!
For now I have found th'ambiguous Prophecy;
The Crown he meant, was Martyrdom for Love.

King.
Oh most unhappy Prince!

Her.
This, when I told that honest Lord Alcanor,
He offer'd to receive my Son for his,
Who then was three Years old, and breed him for me;
Then bound himself by Oath to keep the Secret.
I strait took Orders, and finding him recall'd,
I soon resolv'd to fix my Dwelling here,
And in a lonely Cell, hard by the Bower,
I liv'd unknown to all but Lord Alcanor.
My Friend, upon his Death-bed, charg'd Lorenzo
To pay the Duty of a Son to me;
But told him not how much he ow'd it to me.
The Twenty Years being now expir'd quite,
I purpos'd to discover to your Majesty
The great important Story of my Life;
And, for which Purpose, to my Son I gave
The Packet which this Lord return'd me back.
But Oh! my Soul, when most I hop'd for Comfort,
I am become most miserable!

King.
Cease, cease to raise the Horror of my Guilt,
Except you wish to drive me to Despair;
Apply the Cordial of remaining Hope,
That you and Leonora will forgive me.

Lear.
Help, help the Princess; see, she comes,
Mad with her Woes, and grasping still the Heart.

King.
Open, Earth, and hide me from this Object.

Enter Leonora, held by her Women.
Leon.
Off! off, Tormentors; off, and give me Way;
Am I a Princess, and dare you detain me?
Ha! the King! Oh! let me kneel before you,
For all the Storms of Life will soon be over.
Permit me to believe, that once I was
The only darling Pleasure of your Soul;
Commanded Slaves, who at my Nod still fled,
And were the very Creatures of my Will:
Inform me then how I have lost this Power,
That those who should obey, dare to controul me.
All that I ask, is to be rid of them;
I want no Daggers, Asps, nor Poisons now;
All several Blessings for a speedy Death;
But only Leave to lay a Father's Present
Next my poor Heart, and sleep my Cares away.

King.
Look up, my Child; behold thy Father mourns
Thy too unhappy worthy Husband's Fall.
Oh! let my Penitence atone my Crime;
See, Leonora, Nature is revers'd;
A weeping Father kneeling to his Child.
Oh! promise me, that thou wilt live my Daughter,
And we will all revere thy Husband's Mem'ry:
For him a Monument shall strait be rais'd;
The Parian Marble, and Corinthian Brass,
And Gold from India, shall the Pile adorn;
And yearly all his Soldiers gather round,
To hear Orations in his Praise for ever,
Whilst I resign my Crown and Rule to thee.

Leon.
Oh, poor Temptation to a wretched Life!
What is a Crown, compar'd with what I feel?
Can Crowns allay Extremity of Woe?
Oh, no! your Offers want that healing Power;
And if your Sorrow's real, or only feign'd,
It matters not, since my Lorenzo's gone.
Since you have murder'd him by whom I liv'd,
Here, by this precious Relick of my Love,
Which you have in the purest Metal plac'd,
I swear, and witness, all ye sacred Powers,
That guide our Lives, and pre-ordain our Fates,
Hear, and confirm my stedfast Vow.

[kneels.
King.
O hold, my Child!

Leon.
No Sleep shall ever close these Eyes again,
Nor Food sustain this hated Life I wear,
Nor ought profane the Kiss upon my Lips,
Which from my Husband I receiv'd at Parting,
'Till from these Multitude of Woes reliev'd,
I re-enjoy my Love.

[rises.
Lear.
Oh, Madam!
Why will you punish all the World for one;
For one rash Act committed by a Father?

King.
Oh! that my Crown could raise him from the Grave!
With eager Transport I would lay it down.
With more Content, with more substantial Joy,
Could I behold you in each other's Arms,
Than e'er the Scepter gave me.

Her.
I wish thy Soul had been thus touch'd before;
Then my Lorenzo, then my Son had liv'd.

Leon.
These are your Wishes, when Relief is past;
Why will you cruelly interrupt the Dying?

King.
Why wilt thou wound me with thy Unbelief,
And rack me worse than e'er thy Husband was?
What Proof of my Repentance shall I give thee?
By all the Fruits of Earth and Lights of Heaven;
By that superior Light, the glorious Sun,
From which for ever let my Eyes be shut,
If they could e'er behold a Sight more pleasing.

Lear.
Now is my Time.

[Exit.
Leon.
In vain, in vain you use these Imprecations,
Since in my Breast they cannot make Impression;
For he, alas! is gone for ever from me.

King.
Oh, my Child! why dost thou turn thy Eyes away?
And is thy Father then so hateful grown,
Thou canst not bear to look upon him?

Enter Learchus and Lorenzo at the upper End of the Stage
Leon.
Ha! see, see, ye Murderers, who comes here!
It is the lifeless Shadow of my Husband;
He's sent by Heaven to warn your guilty Souls,
Of endless Torture, for your barbarous Crimes.
See here my Love! I grasp the Substance still;
A tender Father's Present to thy Wife;
The best and richest Gift, when thou wert gone;
Oh! it has told me all! and bid me haste
To fly Oppression, and enjoy thy Presence.
And now I feel the happy Moment on me;
Life gives Way, and I am coming to thee.

[faints.
King.
Support our Daughter.

Lor.
Hold off; let me embrace the beauteous Mourner;
Oh! speak to me, my Dear; my Leonora speak:
Thy Soul is summon'd by thy Husband back.
Oh! leave me not to perish in Despair.

King.
Ha! what do I see! Lorenzo living!

Her.
My Son alive! I thank thee gracious Heaven,
And all that has been instrumental to it.

Lor.
Oh, Leonora! Oh, my beauteous Wife!
Dash not my rising Joy at once, my Love;
Look up, my Fair, 'tis thy Lorenzo calls.

Leon.
Ha! 'tis he, the very He! Oh Transport!
'Tis my real, my dear, my faithful Husband.
Say how, oh! how hast thou retriev'd thy Heart!
Or art thou by some Miracle supported?
Thus will I hold thee fast within my Arms,
From whence no Mortal Strength shall wrest thee forth,
Without the Life of Leonora with thee.

Lor.
Oh, thou Excellence! thou wond'rous Woman!
How shall I requite thee?

King.
Proclaim it to the World, Lorenzo lives;
No more the Son of old Alcanor now,
But Heir apparent to the Crown of Milan.

Lor.
What do I hear?

King.
Yes, thou'rt of noble Blood; see there thy Father.
Kneel to him.

Lor.
Am I then, Sir, your Son? Oh, pardon me,
If I enquire why you have thus conceal'd me
So long unknowing of my Duty?

Her.
Rise, my Son; another Time I'll tell thee all;
May Heav'n shower its Blessings on you both.

Leon.
Oh Extasy! thy Father living still,
Mine reconcil'd, and thy dear Life restor'd!
The Joy's too great for Mortal Sense to bear;
'Tis sure the Epitome of that above,
Which Angels, in their sep'rate State, enjoy.
There wants but Antimora and thy Friend,
To make thee happy too.

King.
If thou hast been so very good, Learchus,
To preserve them too, thy King will thank thee.
Embrace this Man, Lorenzo, for he sav'd thee;
And here the Hatred of your Houses ends.

Lor.
I'm all Confusion! Was I sav'd by thee?
Oh spare my Words, and read 'em in my Eyes!

Lear.
I ask no Thanks; the King has over-paid me;
Since he forgives this only Breach of Duty.
Come forth, my Antimora, now no more
Bound by the Duty of a Sister's Love;
[Enter Antimora.
And oh! I wish I cou'd produce Cardono!
I did my best to save him, tho' my Rival;
But notwithstanding all the Care I us'd,
He expir'd of his Wounds.

Lor.
Alas! my Friend.

Anti.
Your Pardon, Royal Sir.

[kneels.
King.
Rise, fair Antimora; I forgive thee.

Anti.
Oh my ravish'd Senses! tho' I no more
Must call you Brother, yet methinks I feel
The same transporting Joy for your Deliverance,
As if you truly were my Brother.

Lor.
Thou still shalt be my Sister, lovely Maid;
And the same fond tender Care I'll pay thee;
And wish I really were thy Brother now,
To shew how much I prize this worthy Man;
Yet take her from my Hand, Learchus, and,
With her, take the Heart which thou didst kindly save.

Lear.
The two great Blessings Heav'n or Earth can give me.

[they embrace.
King.
Now thou hast made me more than King, Learchus;
And my Rewards shall sound thy Praises forth,
And to the World proclaim thy matchless Virtue.

Lear.
If my Delay of Duty had displeas'd,
I would have offer'd up my self, great Sir,
And dy'd, to expiate my honest Fault.
Your Pardon, Royal Madam's what I want,
For all the Grief which I have caus'd in you.
I had no gentler Means to save Lorenzo,
But by appearing to obey the King.
I us'd the Heart of him Cardono stabb'd,
To work my End, and raise a Father's Pity,
Hoping your real Distress might move the King,
And wake Repentance in his Royal Soul.
My Plot succeeded, and I'm happy in it.

Leon.
Let tender Maids, that feel the Force of Love,
For ever bless, and ever praise thy Name.
May'st thou n'er ask of Heaven or Man a Boon,
But may it be with double Portion granted.
Come to my Breast, thou Partner in my Grief,
And witness, sacred Truth, how dear I hold thee.

Enter Captain.
Capt.
The Citizens hearing Lorenzo lives,
Laid down their Arms, and bless'd your Majesty;
But Lord Antenor was in the Bustle slain.

Lear.
Alas! my Father!

King.
Let this fair Virgin recompence thy Loss,
While all thy Father's Honours live again;
And with a better Grace adorn thy Brow.
But oh! be warn'd by his unhappy Fate,
What Dangers on the doubling Statesman wait!
Had he preferr'd his King's and Country's Good,
This publick Vengeance had not sought his Blood;
But while the secret Paths of Guilt he treads,
Where Lust of Power, Revenge, or Envy leads,
While to Ambition's lawless Height he flies,
Hated he lives, and unlamented dies.