University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Fourth

opening and discovering Alucius in Prison on the Ground; an Officer speaks to Almeyda entring.
Offi.
This Act is at the Peril of my Life,
And if discover'd, certain Death's my Doom;
But see the Prince, there prostrate on the Ground.
[Exit Officer.

Manet Almeyda.
Alm.
Thus low reduc'd by thy inclement Stars!
Lower thou' can'st not lie, but in the Grave,
Where we shall both be soon, the best Retreat
For Miseries like ours: Oh Alucius!
Oh! my poor mournful Lord! Look up on her
Who was thy dearest, lov'd Almeyda, once!

Alu.
Almeyda? Where? What kind Auspicious Voice,
Eccho'd Almeyda to my dying Soul?

Alm.
Almeyda's self.

Alu.
And is it, is it she?
By all my Hopes of Happiness it is:
[Rising.
Thus let me bound with Rapture to thy Arms;
With equal Joy, as when a trembling Wretch,
Wakes from a frightful Dream, and views the Day.

Alm.
Talk not of Joy, for nought but Horror's here.

Alu.
Horror in what? Thus in beholding thee?
In folding my Almeyda in these Arms?
Oh 'tis all Heav'n!

Alm.
But soon will be no more;
This Meeting is our last:

Alu.
And is it so?
Is Fate so merciless?

Alm.
Inevitably sure;
Alucius and Almeyda both must dye.

Alu.
Alucius dye? Then welcome, welcome Death;
Welcome as Freedom to the groaning Slave,
Or to a harrass'd Country smiling Peace.

Scipio enters unperceiv'd.
Scip.
Almeyda and the Pris'ner! How got she
Admittance to this Tent? Surprising Sight!
Now Scipio; now my Heart resolve, support
This fatal, killing, unexpected Stroke,
And that will be an Action worthy Scipio.

[Aside.
Alm.

Alu.
For mine?

Alm.
For both,
He may be merciful at last.

Alu.
That Mercy
Beg for your self; Alucius cannot stoop
To buy a despicable Life with such
Disgrace; sue to a Conqueror; Oh Honour!
Would it not Blush?

Alm.
But your Almeyda, Love
Oppose this Ill-tim'd Principle of Honour.

Scip.
Nor Art, nor Reason, nor my best Resolves,
Nor all the Roman muster'd in my Soul,
Can more sustain this Tumult of Distress.

[Scipio moves forward.
Scip.
Madam, 'tis well, we see how much you prize
The Freedom, that we grant; 'tis wond'rous well.

Alm.
Oh Scipio! do not look thus sternly on me;
Menace not Death, when you behold me, thus
Strip'd of the Pride of Royalty, reduc'd
To deprecate the Sentence of thy Fury:
[Kneeling.
Assume your wonted Goodness and Redress—

Scip.
In what?

Alm.
Look there and know.

Scip.
That Pris'ner?

Alm.
Yes, that Royal Pris'ner is my—

Scip.
What?

Alm.
My plighted Husband: Now the deadly Secret,
Which lay so long pent in my fearful Breast,
And labour'd for its Birth, at last is out.

Scip.
How Madam? He, that Pris'ner?

Alm.
Yes, my more
Than Husband, if there is a stricter Tie,
Our Loves are wove in that; Oh Pardon him!
For I will still, still Kneel, till thou shalt say,
I Pardon thee, Almeyda hath prevail'd.

Scip.
Yes, he shall live; but let him first recode
From Love, and give me thee.

Alu.
Mercenary Roman;
Propose thy Terms to such as shrink at Death;
To Children, Misers, or luxurious Priests;
But treat not thus with one who is a Man,
And scorns to Barter for a servile Life.
What, to foregoe my Love?

Alm.
That cannot be;
Can Soul and Body parted, each remain
Alive in that unnatural Separation?
When one Twin-Plant is blasted by the Winds,
Will not the other sicken at its Loss,
And in its Partner's Absence soon decay?

Scip.
And what is Scipio? What is he to suffer?
Should he resign the Mistress of his Heart;
Her, that relentless Fair, for whom his Soul
Hath languish'd, pin'd so long, hath felt such Pangs,
Such Agonies, such Tortures, and Despair,
Now tamely give her up; Hah! shun the Thought,
It shall not, cannot, is not to be done:
Surrender up the Woman that I Love!
Gods! how it shocks me.

Alm.
Yet, yet feel Remorse,
Give us some Hopes, e'er all the Means be lost
In Death.

Scip.
I would, (bear witness for me Heav'n)
I would, thou barb'rous, charming, cruel Woman,
Assent to thy Desires; but there's a War,
A Combat in my Breast; my wav'ring Thoughts,
Are sway'd each Moment by th'alternate Force
Of diff'rent Passions; Hah! what would Scipio?
What wouldst thou yield thy Mistress to the Arms
Of one who hates thee on a double Score,
Rival in Love, and in thy Conquests too?

Alm.
His Love preceded thine.

Scip.
Grant that it did,
I challenge him to Love thee more than I,
To boast a Flame more pure, or Heart sincere.

Alm.
Yet—

Scip.
Yet I must Love thee; how can I forbear?
Wherefore did Nature form thee so Divine,
On those bright Features lavish all her Skill,
But to be Lov'd, be Worship'd and Ador'd?
Heav'n's! How she looks? What infinite variety
Of undiscover'd Beauties still conspire
To dart new dawning Glories! On my Soul,
This Posture serves but to enhance her Charms.
Is she so fair, and shall she not be mine?

Alm.
Nay, now you are Tyrannical.

Scip.
Your self
That Tyrant are, which you would throw on me,
Was I not humbled as the lowest Slave,
Imploring what I might by Pow'r command?
But for your Minion you disdain'd my Suit:
Who is the Tyrant then?

Alm.
You are a Roman,
Now prove the boasted Virtue of that Name,
And act like Scipio.

Scip.
She brings to my Remembrance
My sullied Glory, and my conscious Shame.

[Aside
[He pause
Alm.
See, see, he melts, his Resolution shakes,
I read it in his Looks; he will relent.

Scip.
It shall be so, spite of these stubborn Pangs,
These strong opposing Passions, yet it shall:
[Aside.
Yes, ye deserving Lovers, I consent,
And thus decree your Happiness: Live free:
My Love no longer shall molest your Joys,
But by your Freedom I'll regain my own,
Or else my faithful Sword shall do an Act
Of Justice on its Coward Master's Breast.
Almeyda, rise—Here, Spaniard, I resign,
[Raising her.
Receive her Hand from Scipio and thy Foe.

Alu.
Curs'd be that Villain, who maintains the Name
Of Foe against such Goodness! then shall I
Be guilty of Ingratitude so base?
How, how shall I repay thee for this Gift,
So exquisite, more welcome than my Life,
The Gift of Heaven?

Scip.
Far be't from Scipio's Thoughts
To make Advantage of thy private Friendship,
But for the Publick, be a Friend to Rome,
I ask no more.

Alu.
Excellent, Godlike Roman!
In ev'ry Virtue, as in War, Supreme!
My Sword, and all the Country I possess,
Shall be employ'd as Scipio shall command.

Alm.
Your Pardon, Gen'rous Conqu'ror, that my Tongue
'Midst these fierce Transports lost, forgets to speak
The Gratitude that rises in my Heart.

Enter Trebellius.
Treb.
Thus far, my Gen'ral, have I trac'd your Steps,
Thus do I press to importune a Favour,
So great, that Death must follow its Denial;
Freed by my Judges, still I am in Bonds,
Instant Release from which depends alone
On Scipio's Clemency.

Scip.
I know thy Wish,
But 'tis not Scipio can confirm it to thee;
The injur'd fair Semanthe is no more,
This Night th'unhappy Beauty breath'd her last.

Treb.
Sharp, stabbing Sentence! my Semanthe dead?
What farther Bus'ness hath Trebellius then
For Life, to breath in this unwholsome Air,
Depriv'd of his Semanthe?

Scip.
Chear, my Soldier,
And imitate the Pattern of thy Gen'ral:
Scipio hath lov'd like thee, like thee endur'd
Its bitter Wounds, and its heart-breaking Pangs,
But is at length the Master of himself.
Come, come, my Warriour, rouze thee up to Arms
Shake off th'inglorious Flame, and follow Scipio.
Now we're our selves, and will again to War,
Again our Eagles shall adorn the Air.
With dire Alarms we'll chase the shatter'd Foe,
Pursue the Terror, and conclude the Blow.
But learn, ye Laurel'd Chiefs, whatever Spoils
Crown your vast Actions, and reward your Toils,
Your Fame's precarious, your Atchievements vain,
Till o'er your selves you can a Conquest gain.

[Exeunt omnes.