University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Dukes of Vendosme and Boüillon, meeting each other.
Vend.
Encountred well, and happily, my Friend,
Mine by the strongest Ties of Manly Love,
Union of Hearts, and Harmony of Souls;
A League contracted in the beardless State
Of undesigning Innocence and Youth,
Still growing strong and stronger by degrees,
As we advanc'd in Years, and reach'd to Manhood:
Earnest I sought thee out, to pay in full
Boüillon's lawful Claim to Vendosme's Thoughts,
And in revealing give thee half my Joys.

Boüill.
Oh lavish Frankness of an honest Mind!
Such ever be the Greetings when we meet,
Such the Endearments of our social Hearts,
Musick the Sound, and Happiness the Theme.

Vend.
Musick more rich, more ravishing than all
That Voice yet echo'd, or the Artist's Touch
Call'd forth melodious from the sounding Strings,
Has charm'd thy Vendosme's Ears: Loüisa's kind,
And Love's my Friend; the beauteous grateful Maid
Receives my captive Heart, and hears my Vows;
In every Part I read my destin'd Bliss,
Hope in her Eyes, and in her Words Success.

Boüill.
Loüisa, said he? Heaven! could there be found
Another Bolt of Thunder fierce as this,
To tear my cracking Heart-strings thro and thro,
To stagger Honour's unsuspecting Faith,
And shake the Fortress of the best-arm'd Virtue?
Lovisa—

Vend.
Why, Boüillon, why, my Friend,
This sudden Change of Body, Form, and Mind,
These furious Starts and Sallies of the Soul,
That thro thy Eyes disclose the War within?
Why gloom'st thou downward thus with Look malign?
Or meet my Tidings with a Face of Joy,
With equal feeling Warmth, and friendly Raptures,
Or I may else take in the Traytor Thought,
Wrong thy just Heart, and judge thy Silence Envy.

Boüill.
Down, swelling Anguish of a jealous Mind:
Howe'er they rage, I must, I must suppress
These Throws, these Strivings, and these gnawing Pangs,
That like reluctant subterraneous Fires,
Working for Birth, and struggling to be loose,
Disdainful of their Check, shoot all around
The dreadful Foamings of imprison'd Fury.

[Aside.
Vend.
Now, on my Soul, this Usage is unkind,
As much unworthy Vendosme to receive,
As still to shew, ungenerous in thy self.

Boüill.
Furies and Hell! Be still, this Mutiny!
What shall Invention form, or Thought reply?
I love, but now to own would be too late,
And but add Pain to Pain, Loüisa too:
Vendosme forgive this Negligence of Friendship,
A Heart surpriz'd, and wandring from itself.
Death! how shall I go on? Dissembling ill
Suits the resenting Heats of Rival Love.

Vend.
Sure these imperfect Breaks, these Starts and Pauses,
Speak some uncommon Cause.

Boüill.
Loüisa, said you?
Does she (O fatal Generosity!)
[Aside.
With kind believing Pity hear thy Vows,
Approve thy well-paid Sighs, and warm thy Hopes?
Does she incline to love? then art thou bless'd
Beyond the Miser counting o'er his Bags,
Beyond the Raptures of the cloyster'd Maid,
When in the fervent Zeal of midnight Prayer,
She soars to Realms of Bliss, and talks with Angels;
Such Blessings hast thou found, as only Love
Successful as thy own, can picture true,
Or Lovers blending in the Act of Transport.

Vend.
Boüillon, now thou mak'st a full Amends
For all the silent Coldness of Delay:
Such was thy Vendosme's Bliss, when last I saw her,
And such again attends my quick Return;
To talk and vow, and sigh away our Souls:
Believe me, Friend, and judge from thence my Faith,
E'en now I put a Force upon my Passions,
From all the Fondness of a mutual Flame,
I stole away, to share it with my Friend:
But Absence now seems long, Love checks my Stay,
I must take leave, its Summons to obey,
To meet the kind inviting Maid again;
Lovers count Time by Wishes, Joy, or Pain.

[Vend. Exit.
Boüillon solus.
Boüill.
Now take thy loose my Soul, shoot forth thy Burthen,
And pour out thy Variety of Horrors:
Why did I curb this inward Shock so long?
Why with this coward Silence did I brook
Loüisa's yielding, and a Rival's Joy,
And not avow the Birthright of my Flame,
And fierce discharge my Tortures half on him,
The curs'd, the happy Vendosme? Ill-plac'd Rage!
Vendosme is blameless and Loüisa too;
My self the only Wretch: with open Heart
His undesigning Virtue told me all,
And call'd me in a Partner to his Pleasures;
Thus in this Mist of Thought, of Doubt and Woe,
I know not what to wish or to resolve,
Still to pursue this Passion wrongs my Friend,
And to suppress it, more than damns my self;
Here ever grows the Shelve, where Friendship splits.
Mysterious Passion, potent to create
The fiercest Torment, or the fiercest Joy!

[Exit.