University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Boüillon
solus.
It is decided, Friendship's brittle Tie
No longer shall amuse me on the Rack,
With the vain Comfort of an honest Wretch:
Let Virtue dictate to the Stoick Mind
Self-strivings, Patience, Abstinence, and Pain,
I cannot brook the tasteless starving Precept;
I burn, and must allay the raging Flame:
Let Sin be fatal, and be Love a Sin,
It is a glorious Way of Sinning sure,
So strong, so rich the Motive and Reward.
Let Vendosme have her Heart, I'll heave him thence,
Supplant his hoping unsuspecting Blindness,
And take his place myself:—Sweet impious Thought!
But see she comes, the damning Fair-one comes,
With pointed Eyes, and Arbitrary Charms,
To prompt, to edge, and justify my Guilt:
I will attack her Soul on every side,
I'll pour out all my Pains, and by the Heat
Of furious Pleadings force her to be kind.

Enter Loüisa.
Loüisa.
On what a troubled Main do we embark,
When first we enter on the State of Love?
One constant Series of unconstant Tides,
Mixtures of Doubt and Hope attend us all:
Th'Unhappy live in one continual Curse
Of ever-craving, never-quench'd Desire;
The Happy, (if we such may happy call,
Whom Fortune flatters with her Syren Tongue)
Find every fickle Hour their Tortures too,
Their Fears, their Griefs, their Jealousies, and Wants.
No more myself, I wander up and down
In search of something, but I know not what,
And yet methinks 'tis Vendosme that I seek.
Hah! here's the Duke Boüillon! I'll of him
(Oh fond Impertinence of Woman's Love!)
Inquire the Health and Welfare of his Friend.

Boüill.
Happy the Subject, were the Subject Love,
That does so well employ Loüisa's Thought;
Happy the Lover that so well succeeds,
To gain his prosp'rous Suit admittance there.

Loüisa.
Flattery, my Lord, becomes a Courtier's Tongue,
And you, no doubt, have learn'd the modish Vice.

Boüill.
Loüisa, now you do a willing Wrong
Both to yourself and me, to think that Love
(For who can gaze on thee, and not adore?)
Can speak a Language foreign to its Nature,
Or Beauty like your own wants power to awe
The wily Courtier's Heart, and fix it true.

Loüisa.
Alas! my Lord, I came not now to hear
The Praise of Beauty, or the Sighs of Love,
All distant from my Thoughts, I would enquire
Of you his Bosom-Partner and his Friend,
When you had seen the Duke of Vendosme.

Boüill.
Hell!
Does she come here to sport upon my Pains,
And to upbraid me with the guilty Thought
Of broken Faith and violated Friendship?
The Duke of Vendosme, Madam!

Loüisa.
Yes, my Lord,
I nam'd the Duke of Vendosme.

Boüill.
Then, Loüisa,
The Duke of Vendosme's here.

Loüisa.
My Lord Boüillon,
I do not understand your dark Reply,
Unless you mean by Friendship's sacred Union,
Yourself a second Vendosme.

Boüill.
Oh Damnation!
Still will she strike on that ungrateful String,
And make me by severe Reflection see
A Figure I abhor, my self a Villain.
But I will now go thro: Yes, fair Loüisa,
To thee, to thee I'll be the Duke of Vendosme,
At least with Vendosme's Eyes I'll view thy Beauties,
And pay 'em (Heaven and Earth attest my Vows!)
A Heart, a Soul as full of Love as his.

Loüisa.
Is this the Duke Boüillon, Vendosme's Friend?

Boüill.
No, I disclaim the Alliance, cancel all
The Vows, the slight Engagements that oppose
Love's nobler Passion, and deny me thee:
Let this, thou charming Cause of all my Guilt,
This sacrificing all the World holds dear,
This Wreck of Virtue, Friendship, Faith and Fame,
Convince thy Pity, argue on my side,
To what a fierce Extravagance I love.

Loüisa.
Why do I thus by hearing share thy Guilt?
Are these the noblest Trophies you can boast,
A perjur'd Honour, and a Traytor Heart?
What then must Love on Friendship's Ruins thrive?
No, false Boüillon, no, the Man who dares
(So near the kindred Passions are ally'd)
When trusted and believ'd, betray the one,
Throws himself out unworthy of the other.

[Exit Loüisa.
Boüill.