University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE the First.

Alucius, Almeyda.
Alu.
Must we be parted by these envious Hours,
That glide in swiftest Motion from our Wishes,
As if with Fortune they conspir'd against us?
Must we be forc'd to be again unhappy,
And quit this sweet Endearment of our Loves?

Alm.
Yes, my Alucius, we must part, indeed
We must, and lose this transitory Joy.
Thy Stay is dang'rous, Scipio may suspect,
And with a Lover's Eyes detect the Fraud,
And then inevitable Death ensues.

Alu.
Confusion! how it racks me! Shall I leave
My Mistress to my Rival and my Foe?
Shame and Dishonour to the Spanish Name!
Fly, that the Roman may address thy Beauties?
Th'Imagination stings me to the Soul.

Alm.
Be calm, Alucius, what Dishonour is't
Timely to flie, when Death is in thy Stay?
Or, what's the Prowess of a single Arm,
Oppos'd and press'd by Multitudes of Foes?
'Tis rash, 'tis blind, 'tis impotent and vain.
Be guided, my Alucius, be advis'd
By her, who may without a Blush confess
She loves thee dearer, better than herself.

Alu.
Shall I prophane that Love, thou beauteous Maid?
Desert thy helpless Innocence so basely,
And leave thee all abandon'd to thy Woes,
Defenceless and alone, amidst a Host
Of Enemies?

Alm.
Almeyda can be safe
Without your Danger, safer if alone;
This Scipio, this Victor is a Man
Mild by his Nature, milder by his Love;
Aw'd by that Passion, he forgets the Style,
The usual Sternness of a Victor's Pride;
Nay, if perchance he but observes me weep,
He sighs himself, and begs me to forbear,
To lay aside my Cares, and bids me hope
For better Days.

Alu.
Did he? for better Days?
What, for himself? 'Tis that Alucius dreads.
This forc'd Respect, and seeming great Observance,
Are only Baits to win you to his Love;
Be on thy Guard, Almeyda; oh! beware.

Alm.
I thought, Alucius, you yourself could witness
How much I priz'd, how dear I ever held
My Virgin Honour, and untainted Mind,
As bravely good, and anxious for their Safety,
As hardy Patriots for the Publick Weal;
And for Alucius to suspect me now,
That only Man I to the World preferr'd,
For Him to cast this Scandal on my Fame,
Ungrateful Prince! severe Return of Love!

Alu.
Is not this Roman swell'd with youthful Blood?
Has he not Eyes to view? A Heart to feel
The strong Impression of thy Heav'nly Charms?
Has he not too (all Hell is in that Thought!)
A Victor's Pow'r to satiate his Desires?

Alm.
And have not I (weak as my Sex is deem'd)
Courage and Virtue to prevent his Will,
And guide a friendly Dagger to my Heart,
Which shall at once secure my trembling Soul,
Both from his Insults and thy groundless Fears?

Alu.
Call them not groundless, but a Lover's Fears;
For, if I love thee, can I see thee his?
Methinks e'en now I see him (curs'd Idea!)
Gaze on thy Charms with languishing Deceit,
Press those rich Worlds, and swear he'll have thee all:
Thee too, (damn'd frightful Image of Despair!)
Mov'd by his Glories, yield to his Embrace,
Pant in his Arms, whilst thy Alucius dies.

Alm.
Is this, base Man, the Language of thy Love?
These vile Suspicions, and abusive Terms?
But from my Thoughts; and know, my Honour yet
Can find Revenge for those who dare traduce it.

Alu.
My Jealousies have carry'd me too far,
I fear I've injur'd the dear virtuous Maid,
And dare not hope Forgiveness, yet I will
Implore it, for she was all Goodness once.
[Aside.
Is there, Almeyda, is there yet a Pardon
Left in thy Stores of Pity, for a Wretch
By Jealousie transported from himself;
Who, conscious of his Crime, at length repents,
And humbled thus, kneels till his Pardon's sign'd?

[Kneeling.
Alm.
Rise, rise, Alucius, for thou know'st my Soul,
How prone to Love, how willing to forgive:
Yet if that Love prevail'd not o'er my Wrongs,
And pleaded strongly for thee in my Heart,
Ought I not then for ever to resent
This barb'rous Usage, and forget thee quite?
But thou art my Alucius, and I can,
I must forgive thee, for I love thee still.

[Sinking into his Arms.
Alu.
And will thy injur'd Goodness then forgive?

Alm.
It will, it does; and to confirm thee more,
And cure thy jealous Doubts, again I swear,
My Virgin Breast's a Stranger to his Love,
Nor ever felt an Influence but from thee.

Alu.
No more, Almeyda; may my Soul ne'er reach
The happy Mansions of th'Elysian Shades,
Ne'er taste those promis'd Beauties it adores,
But lose them both, if it distrusts thee more.
And when Alucius shall forget to love,
To meet thy Virtues, and requite thy Truth,
May all the Plagues that ever injur'd Heav'n
Pour'd down to execute his sacred Wrath
On humane Crimes, be doubly heap'd on him.

Alm.
Now let us part, nor farther tempt our Fate.
Hah! ev'ry Minute I'm alarm'd with Fears
Lest Scipio should approach, and see thee here,
And then I tremble at the sad Event.
Haste, haste, Alucius, instantly away,
Our All depends upon thy wing'd Escape,
Fly for thy self and me.

Alu.
Since we must part,
Then let us part at least as Lovers ought,
And seal that Faith we've sworn with an Embrace,
A Parting Kiss—Farewel, my Life, my Soul!
A short Farewel, for shortly I'll return,
And with thy Ransom bring thee Liberty—
Farewel once more—Oh, how my tortur'd Soul
Shakes in its Frame when I pronounce Farewel!
But 'tmust be so. Remember my last Words,
Or Death for me, or Freedom for my Love.

Alm.
Farewel—
[Exit Alucius.
May ev'ry God vouchsafe to be thy Guard.
[Exit Almeyda.

SCENE the Second.

Scipio, Lelius.
Lel.
Methinks, my Lord, this Lethargy of Love
Has crept through all the Camp, th'Infection sits
On ev'ry Brow; the Warriour minds no more
The grateful Clangor of the Martial Trumpet;
Glories no longer in his well-try'd Arms,
Or burnish'd Helmet; but in wanton Mood
Sits down, and revels on the Eyes of Women:
[A Sound of Musical Instruments.
Hark, their loud Mirth.

Scip.
Enter Trebellius, with Alucius Prisoner.

Tre.
This rash Spaniard thus
Disguis'd in Roman Habit, with Design
T'attempt some dang'rous Enterprize, found means
Of Entrance to our Camp; but as returning,
Examin'd by Chrysantus Captain of the Guard,
And being stopp'd his Passage, he refus'd
An Answer, but that Instant drew his Sword,
And offer'd at Chrysantus, who when stabb'd
Alarm'd the Soldiers with his dying Groans,
By whom this Pris'ner was pursu'd and ta'en.

Scip.
What urg'd thee, Spaniard, to so rash a Deed,
So base to us, so dang'rous to thy self?
Speak, by Confession mitigate thy Crime.

Alu.
'Twas Rashness, I confess; but where's the Guilt,
The Baseness, to commit an hostile Act
Upon a Foe, and such is Rome to Spain?
'Tis true, you are successful, and your Arms
Fam'd for a Conquest purchas'd by Surprize:
Yet, would our Country but again assume
Its pristine Valour, and inspire her Sons
With the Immortal Sound of Liberty,
List the firm Patriots in the Godlike Cause,
Your now victorious Bands in Death should feel
How much we dare, and can to set her free.

Scip.
So haughty and so proud, so brave in Bonds?

Alu.
A gen'rous Soul can never be subdu'd,
You may confine the Body in a Dungeon,
With Iron Fetters manacle each Limb,
But yet his Soul dares, is, and will be free,
And scorn his Victor, though he feel his Chains.

Scip.
Presumptuous Youth, cease thy ill-manner'd Boasts,
This Carriage suits not with thy present State;
If thou can'st hope for Mercy, plainly tell
What Motive brought thee here, and who thou art.

Alu.
Make thy Demands elsewhere, my busie Soul,
In weightier Tasks employ'd, disdains to hold
A Parley.

Scip.
Fond Youth, spite of my Nature,
Thou wilt draw down my Anger on thy Head:
Speak, I adjure thee, on the Pain of Death,
Speak to the Purpose.

Alu.
Me wouldst thou frighten
With the harsh Sound of Death? 'Tis what I court,
The greatest Mercy that my Foe can grant.
Yet to acquit my Honour, not comply
With thy severe Commands, I ll boldly tell
What mov'd a Prince t'assume a mean Disguise;
'Twas Love—Love, that transform'd the Thund'rer himself,
And chang'd him to a Mortal from a God.

Scip.
Love, Sir! for whom? What Mistress canst thou find
Within our Camp, whose Beauty can deserve
This Peril of thy Life?

Alu.
Yes, there is one
For whom I'd hazard Life a thousand times,
A thousand more, if 'twas as oft renew'd.

Scip.
Sure she's some wond'rous, more than common Fair,
That pushes on, and animates thy Soul
To this extravagant unbounded Daring.
Her Name?

Alu.
Hold, thou imperious Roman!
Insulting Conqueror! think not these Chains,
These shameful Bonds deprive me of the Sense
That's deeply grafted in the gen'rous Minds
Of Princes, such am I, great as thy self,
Sprung from the purest Blood that Spain can boast.
Damnation! I've already been too mean,
Too lavish in my Tongue to own my Love;
But may it rot, or be for ever dumb,
If I inform thee further—Come wreck your Malice,
Doom me to Tortures, Dungeons, and Despair,
There let me give a Loose to all my Rage,
Curse my Ill Stars, my Fortune, and my self,
My Conq'rors and the World, then like a Man
And like a Prince expire.

Scip.
Trebellius, bear him hence,
Confine him strictly, but with a Respect
Suiting the Greatness of his Character.

[Exeunt Treb. and Alu. guarded.
Scip.
A Spanish Prince (for so he stiles himself)
Siez'd in our Camp for Murder?—And in Love?
In Love! with whom? Nay, that's a Myst'ry still.
It cannot be Almeyda that he loves—
Why not? Almeyda is endu'd with Charms
To wound the Noblest Breast—A Spaniard too?
Nay then the Doubt is clear'd, it must be she;
Yet let not Jealousie prevail too far,
Examine ev'ry Point, be well inform'd,
Urge not the hov'ring Tempest down too soon,
Which, whensoe'er it falls, will crush us all.

[Exeunt Scip. Lel.

SCENE the Third.

Lucilius
solus.
It must be so, since Scipio has refus'd
Semanthe to my Arms, and she herself
Hath with the proud Trebellius plighted Faith;
My injur'd Honour and my Love require
A speedy Remedy and just Revenge.
Well, thus it is resolv'd, I'll try once more
What soft and mild Persuasions can avail;
But if she still persists, Force then must be
My next and surest Refuge—See, she comes.
Enter Semanthe starting back.
Why, Madam, should you shun me with Disdain,
As if my Aspect spoke some ill Intent,
Some purpos'd Mischief brooding in my Heart,
That drives you from my Sight? Why are your Looks
Chang'd to that Frown? Your Brow thus sternly bent,
The Marks of Indignation aim'd to me?
Nor aim'd in vain, they pierce through ev'ry Part.
Would you but prove propitious to my Love?

Sem.
Urge not a thing so hateful to my Thoughts,
A Subject which I dare not understand.
Can you suppose my Female Mind so weak?
My Resolution wavering so soon,
So easily, since last you were refus'd?

Luc.
Since last I was refus'd? Can I suppose
Or term th'Effect of Modesty a Proof,
A binding, certain Resolution?—No.
Why should your Beauties, like the blooming Rose,
Decay unpluck'd, and wither on the Stalk?

Sem.
'Tis needless to employ these idle Words,
To tempt a Virgin fix'd in her Resolves.
Perhaps, from my Captivity you claim
A Priviledge and Title to my Love—
I grant I am a Captive to your Arms;
But must my Love be guided by the Fate
Of War, a Bribe for a precarious Life?
My Person is your Pris'ner, but my Heart
Is free, and wo' not be constrain'd .

Luc.
Nor need.
What Force have I exerted yet, to cause
This Accusation?

Sem.
I accuse you not,
But beg you to desist from naming Love,
So odious in its Sound.

Luc.
From me it may,
But from Trebellius 'tis as soft and sweet,
As welcome as the Lark's delightful Tune
At the bright Dawn of Day.

Sem.
Trebellius, Sir?

Luc.
Yes he, your lov'd Trebellius is the Man;
But long he shall not glory in his Prize,
Or yield to Love, or by yon' Heaven I swear—

Sem.
What, to destroy thy Friend, and vilely wrong
A Woman's Weakness? Could'st thou so debase
Thy Soul with such a foul ungen'rous Act?

Luc.
Perdition seize that Friend, rather that Foe,
Who drives me thus by Force to right my self!
But you by your Consent may yet restrain
My purpos'd Vengeance.

Sem.
Oh impossible!
Shall I prove faithless to Trebellius? No.

Luc.
Then you're resolv'd—

Sem.
Yes, to be bravely true,
And just to him I love—

Luc.
Yet think again.

Sem.
What would you, Sir? your fiery Eye-balls shoot
Forth Lightning with your Words: Alas—

Luc.
I mean
To make my Rival and your self repent
The Injuries you've offered to a Roman,
Unus'd to brook the slightest of Affronts
Without Revenge; and thus like angry Jove
I'll seize my Prey—
[Seizes her, she cries out.
These Outcries are in vain,
Your Lover absent and the Guards secur'd.

[Carries her off by Violence.

SCENE the Fourth.

Almeyda, Phænissa.
Alm.
Phænissa, speak no more; this fatal News
Deprives my Soul of ev'ry Thought but Horror.
Scarce two short Hours since we were wrapt in Joys,
And nought but Praises to the bounteous Gods
Were issued from our Lips, in Gratitude
For their past Favours: But this last Relapse
Of Fate, this Renovation of Distress—

Phæ.
Tho' I can scarcely answer for my Tears,
(The Sympathy of Sorrow catch'd from you)
Yet would I save Almeyda from Despair,
And tune my Words with comfortable Hope.

Alm.
Canst thou be touch'd thus sensibly with Grief?
Weep and bewail Afflictions not thy own?
Judge from that Grief Almeyda's greater Cause.

Phæ.
Yet hope—

Alm.
Propose that Hope to those who never knew
The Pangs of Love thus sever'd and distress'd.
Perhaps this Instant my Alucius dies,
Is basely murder'd—Can Almeyda hope?
Or, if she must, 'tis only for a Grave,
A Dagger, or some Poison to dispatch
A hateful, tiresome Life

Phæ.
Have Patience, Madam;
Let not this Phrenzy Rage to such Extreams.

Alm.
Preach Patience to the loud and whistling Winds,
Bid Ocean, when his swelling Surges rise,
Forego his Rage, and in a Moment calm.
Patience! Oh ye Powers! can I be patient
Under such Tortures?—Oh release me, Death!

Phæ.
For Heav'n's Sake!

Alm.
Heav'n (alas!) has cast me off,
And turn'd me out a Wand'rer and forlorn:
Destitute of Help both Humane and Divine,
A Prostitute to Mis'ry and Despair:
What Hopes, or what Dependance can I place
On Heav'n? Oh Alucius! Oh Almeyda!
Methinks I hear the Raven's croaking Note,
Alucius' Death is sounded in that Voice:
He shall not die alone, my self will haste
And fold his dying Body, till one Fate
Shall ease us both, both share the dreadful Blow,
And to the Gloom of Death together go.

[Exit disorder'd.