University of Virginia Library

SCENE the First.

Scipio, Almeyda.
Scip.
To tell you that I love you, that my Soul
Allows your high Dominion, and with Joy
Accepts its Chains, wou'd be a needless Tale;
Your self are conscious of the Pow'r you bear.
These Eyes have seen Maids of the noblest Bloom,
The foremost both in Beauty and in Blood;
Them with a cool Indiff'rence have I view'd,
No Love, no Philtre trickling through my Veins;
Dauntless, and unacquainted with the Force
Of Beauty; Battles were my sole Delight;
War was the darling Mistress of my Heart;
There did it range at large, 'till you o'ertook,
And by superior Charms confin'd it here.

Alm.
Forbear to mention that which I must doubt,
Or granting true, I never can return.

Scip.
What never, Madam?

Alm.
No, I never can.
But why should Scipio thus demean his Soul,
Ignobly stoop to her who is his Slave?
Or can Almeyda dare believe that Man,
Who conquer'd, and retains her in his Bonds?
For you 'tis too inglorious, and for me
Too great.

Scip.
These Obstacles are soon remov'd;
True Love is never limited, confin'd
To trifling Customs, or the senseless Rules
Of Birth, or dull Distinction, the Debates
Of cool deliberating Lovers, that
As much the fiercer, is the nobler Flame:
But where is this inglorious Meanness? Where
That mighty jarring Difference, when I bow
A Suiter for the fair Almeyda's Love?
Are you not equal to my self in Blood?
And tho' distress'd, as much to be esteem'd,
And worshipp'd as if circled with a Crown?
'Tis a base Passion that admires a Form,
When tempting Wealth unites its dazzling Lustre
To add new Beauties, and improve the Fair;
But when those guilded Trifles are no more,
Soon vanishes away.

Alm.
Be cautious, Scipio, nor
Too heedless tempt your Ruin.

Scip.
Cautious, say you?
Can Scipio from himself fear ought? If he must fall,
It will be only by Almeyda's Charms.

Alm.
Why there's the Danger, there's the fatal Rock
Which I advise you timely to beware:
Be not profuse, or lavish in the Praise
Of Beauties which you never can enjoy:
Do not too rashly thus indulge your Love
To a resistless and unbounded Height,
When all the Prospect of Success is lost.

Scip.
And can there, cruel Charmer, can the same
Fierce Tyranny prevail within thy Heart,
As Triumphs in thy Eyes, to name Despair
To one that's gasping in the Pangs of Death?
Look on him gently, and reverse his Doom,
Afford one Promise, one kind Gleam of Hope.

Alm.
Instruct me, Gracious Heaven! inspire my Tongue
In this disorder'd Tumult of my Soul:
If I reveal our Loves, Alucius dies,
By Silence I provoke a Victor's Wrath.

[Aside.
Scipio.
Why will you rack me thus with doubtful Fear?
Reflect but on the Tortures I endure,
The dreadful Anguish of my lab'ring Breast;
You cannot but compassionate my Pains.

Alm.
Compassionate! I do; observe my Heart,
See how it pants, and can you then upbraid me?

Scip.
If rising Pity pleads in my behalf,
Obey, obey that Pity, and consent.

Alm.
It is not in my Pow'r, indeed it is not.

Scip.
But wherefore not? What mighty secret Bar
Forbids my Joys, and envies my Repose?

Alm.
A thousand Reasons start into my Mind,
And warn me to be cautious; which to speak
Is only to inhance our Miseries,
And plunge us in a deeper Flood of Woes.

Scip.
Disastrous State of Love for ever puzzled,
Plagu'd with Objections, and chain'd down to Hardships!
To say that you compassionate, yet give
No Cure, distracts the wretched Lover most,
It aggravates the Pains he felt before.

Alm.
To bid you hope in this unhappy State,
Whilst I am thus bewildred and forlorn,
Is to be impious both to Heav'n and you:
Those Pow'rs indeed may more propitious smile,
And bless Almeyda with an happier Hour;
'Till then her Confidence is plac'd above,
Her Wishes all to their Decrees resign'd.

Scip.
Then Scipio hope, Almeyda bids thee hope,
Hope, and expect that white propitious Hour,
When Heav'n shall bless thee with Almeyda's Love;
For in a Lover's Hopes dwell coming Joys,
As budding Flow'rs fore-run the blooming Year:
Let me retire, indulge my promis'd Bliss;
Remember, Madam, that you bad me hope.
[Exit Scipio.

Alm.
Yes, I remember my own wretched State,
That I'm belov'd, where 'tis not in my Pow'r
To love again; Alucius I am thine:
But hush my Cares, a Beam of Joy breaks in
Upon my Soul, and whispers he'll be here;
He will! What to receive his fatal Doom?
To die? No, Heav'n forefend! Ye sacred Pow'rs
Protect his Person, ward each threatning Blow!
On him my diff'rent Fates Dependant move,
My Life, my Death, my Liberty, and Love.
[Exit Almeyda.