University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Room in Sifroy's House.
Glanville, Isabella.
Glanville.
What means this diffidence, this idle fear?
Have I not given thee proof my heart is thine?
Proof that I mean to sanctify our joys
By sacred wedlock? Why then doubt my truth?
Why hesitate, why tremble thus to join
In deeds, which justice and my love to thee
Alone inspire? If we are one, our hopes,
Our views, our interests ought to be the same.
And canst thou tamely see this proud Sifroy
Triumphant lord it o'er my baffled rights?
Those late acquir'd demesnes, by partial deed
Convey'd to him, in equity are mine.

Isabella.
The story oft I've heard: yet sure Sifroy
Hath every legal title to that wealth
By will bequeath'd: and childless should he die,
The whole were thine. Wait then till time—

Glanville.
Art thou,
My Isabella, thou an advocate
For him who wrongs thy lover, and witholds
Those treasures which I covet but for thee?
Where is thy plighted love?—thy faith?—thy truth?

Isabella.
Forbear reproach! O Glanville, love to thee
Hath robb'd me of my truth—betray'd me on
From step to step, till virtue quite forsook me.
False if I am, 'tis to myself, not thee;
Thou hast my heart, and thou shalt guide my will,
Obedient to thy bidding.

Glanville.
Hear me then—
This curst Sifroy stands in my fortune's way;
I must remove him.—Well I know his weakness—
His fiery temper favours my design,
And aids the plot that works his own undoing.
His station in the army, there secures him,
As from my reach, so from my vengeance safe.
But this will force him home—I have convey'd,
By Ragozin his servant, whom I sent
On other business, letters which disclose
His wife's amour with Paulet.

Isabella.
Ah! tho' me
Thou hast persuaded to believe her false,
Think'st thou Sifroy will credit the report?
Will not remembrance of her former love,
Her decent modesty, yet tender fondness,
Secure his high opinion of her truth?

Glanville.
I know it ought not. Weak must be the man
Who builds his hopes on such deceitful ground.
Paulet is young, not destitute of passion;
Her husband absent, they are oft together:
Then she hath charms to warm the coldest breast,
Melt the most rigid virtue into love,
And tempt the firmest friendship to be frail.
All this I've urg'd, join'd with such circumstance,
Such strong presumptive proof, as cannot fail
To shake the firm foundations of his trust.
This once accomplish'd, his own violence
And heated rage, will urge him to commit
Some desperate act, and plunge him into ruin.

Isabella.
But grant thou should'st succeed, what will ensue?
Suppose him dead, doth he not leave an heir,
An infant son? He will prevent thy claim—

Glanville.
That bar were easily remov'd.—But soft,
Who's here? 'Tis Ragozin return'd.

[Enter Ragozin.

SCENE II.

Glanville, Isabella, Ragozin.
Glanville.
What news,
Dear Ragozin? How did Sifroy receive
My letters? What was their effect? O speak!
My vast impatience would know all at once—
What said he? What does he intend?

Ragozin.
All you could wish. A whirlwind's rage is weak
To the wild storm that agitates his breast.
At first indeed he doubted—swore 'twas false—
Impossible—But as he read, his looks
Grew fierce; pale horror trembled on his cheek;
And with a faultering voice at length he cry'd,
O she is vile!—It must, it must be so—
Then threw him on the ground, in speechless woe.

Glanville.
Good, very good!—I knew 'twould gall—proceed.

Ragozin.
His smother'd grief at length burst forth in rage.
He started from the floor—he drew his sword—
And fixing it with violence in my grasp—
Plunge this, he cry'd, O plunge it in the heart
Of that vile traitor, Paulet!—Yet forbear—
That exquisite revenge my own right hand
Demands, nor will I give it to another!
This said—push'd on by rage, he to her sire
Dispatch'd a letter, opening to him all
Her crime, and his dishonour. This to you.

[Gives a letter.
Glanville.
How eagerly he runs into the toils,
Which I have planted for his own destruction!
O Ragozin, success shall double all
My promises; and now we are embark'd,
We must proceed, whatever storms arise.

Isabella.
But read the letter.
[Glanville opens the letter and reads.

Tho' thou hast stabb'd me to the heart, I cannot but
thank thy goodness for the tender regard thou hast
shown to my honour. The traitor Paulet shall die
by my own hand: that righteous vengeance must
be mine. Mean time, forbid the villain's entrance
to my house. As to her who was once my wife, let
her go to her father's, to whom I have written;
leaving it to him to vindicate her virtue, or conceal
her shame. I am in too much confusion to add more.

SIFROY.

Glanville.
This is enough—by heaven! I sought no more.
It is the point at which my wishes aim'd.
The death of Paulet must include his own;
Justice will take that life my injuries seek,
Nor shall suspicion cast one glance on me.
But does he purpose soon to leave the army,
Or let his vengeance sleep?

Ragozin.
All wild, he raves
That honour should forbid to quit his charge.
Yet what resolves the tumult in his breast
May urge, is hard to say.

Glanville.
We must prepare
For his arrival; well I know his rage
Will burst all bounds of prudence. Thou, my friend,
(For from the hour which shall compleat our business,
Thy servitude shall cease) be diligent
To watch all accidents, and well improve
Whatever may arise.

Ragozin.
Trust to my care.

[Exit.
Glanville.
O Isabella! the important hour
To prove my truth, now rises to my wish.
No longer shalt thou live the humble friend
Of this Cleone, but her equal born,
Shalt rise by me to grace an equal sphere.

Isabella.
Her equal born I am—nor can my heart
A keener pang than base dependence feel.
Yet weak by nature, and in fear for thee,
I tremble for th' event.—O should'st thou fail—

Glanville.
Dear Isabella, trust to me the proof
Of her conceal'd amour. I know full well
Her modesty is mere disguise, assum'd
To cheat the world; but it deceives not me.
I shall unveil her secret wickedness,
And her dark deeds expose to open day.

Isabella.
Scarce can my heart give credit—

Glanville.
Thou, alas,
Art blinded by the semblance she displays
Of truth and innocence; but I see thro'
Her inmost soul, and in her secret thoughts
Read wantonness. Believe me, this gay youth,
Mask'd in the guise of friendship to Sifroy,
Is her vile paramour. But I forget;
Tell Ragozin, my love, to wait without;
This business asks dispatch, and I may want
His useful aid.

Isabella.
I go; but still my heart
Beats anxious lest the truth of thy suspicions
Should fail of proof.

[Exit Isabella.
Glanville.
Fear nothing, I'm secure.
Fond, easy fool! whom for my use alone,
Not pleasure, I've insnar'd; thou little dream'st,
That fir'd with fair Cleone's heaven of charms,
I burn for their enjoyment. There, there too,
Did this Sifroy, this happy hated rival,
Defeat the first warm hopes that fir'd my bosom.
I mark'd her beauties rising in their bloom,
And purpos'd for myself the ripening sweetness;
But ere I could disclose the secret flame,
He stole into her heart. And O would fate
But now permit my wishes to succeed,
Vengeance were satisfy'd. I will attend her,
And urge my suit, tho' oft repuls'd, once more.
If she's obdurate still, my slighted love
Converts to hatred: I will then exert
The power which her deluded lord hath given,
Drive her this instant hence, and in her flight,
To glut my great revenge, she too shall fall.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Changes to another Room.
Cleone and a Servant.
Cleone.
Paulet! my husband's friend? give him admittance;
His friendship sympathizes with my love,
Cheers me by talking of my absent lord,
And sooths my heart with hopes of his return.

[Enter Paulet.
Paulet.
Still do these louring clouds of sorrow shade
Cleone's brow, and sadden all her hours?

Cleone.
Ah Paulet! have I not just cause to mourn?
Three tedious years have past since these sad eyes
Beheld my dear Sifroy: and the stern brow
Of horrid war still frowns upon my hopes.

Paulet.
The fate of war, 'tis true, hath long detain'd
My noble friend from your fond arms and mine:
But his redoubted sword by this last stroke
Must soon reduce the foe to sue for peace.
The gallant chief who led the numerous host,
And was himself their soul, is fallen in battle,
Slain by the valiant hand of your Sifroy.

Cleone.
To me, alas, his courage seems no virtue:
Dead to all joy but what his safety gives,
To every hope, but that of his return,
I dread the danger which his valour seeks,
And tremble at his glory. O good Heaven!
Restore him soon to these unhappy arms,
Or much I fear they'll never more enfold him.

Paulet.
What means Cleone? No new danger can
Affright you for my friend. I fear your breast
Beats with the dread of some impending ill,
Threatening yourself. Now, by the love that binds
My heart to your Sifroy, let me intreat,
If my assistance can avail you aught,
That to the utmost hazard of my life
You will command my service.

Cleone.
Kind Heaven, I thank thee! My Sifroy hath yet
One faithful friend. O Paulet—but to thee,
The many virtues that adorn the mind
Of my lov'd lord, and made me once so blest,
'Twere needless to display. In mine alone
His happiness was plac'd; no grief, no care
Came ever near my bosom; not a pain
But what his tenderness partaking, sooth'd.
All day with fondness would he gaze upon me,
And to my listening heart repeat such things,
As only love like his knew how to feel.
O my Sifroy! when, when wilt thou return?
Alas, thou know'st to what bold attempts
Thy unsuspecting virtue has betray'd me!

Paulet.
What danger thus alarms Cleone's fear?

Cleone.
I am asham'd to think, and blush to say,
That in my husband's absence this poor form,
These eyes, or any feature should retain
The power to please—but Glanville well you know—

Paulet.
Sure you suspect not him of base designs!
He wears the semblance of much worth and honour.

Cleone.
So to the eye the speckled serpent wears
A shining, beauteous form; but deep within,
Foul stings and deadly poisons lurk unseen.
O Paulet, this smooth serpent hath so crept
Into the bosom of Sifroy, so wound
Himself about my love's unguarded heart,
That he believes him harmless as the dove.

Paulet.
Good Heaven, if thou abhor'st deceit, why suffer
A villain's face to wear the look of virtue?
Who would have thought his loose desires had flown
So high a pitch! Have you imparted aught
Of his attempts, to Isabella.

Cleone.
No.

Paulet.
I had suspicion his designs were there.

Cleone.
I've thought so too: nay have some cause to fear
That she's his wife. This hath restrain'd my tongue.

Paulet.
I wish she may deserve your tenderness.
But say, Cleone, let me know the means,
Which this most impious man, this trusted friend,
Hath taken to betray—

Cleone.
I hear his voice,
And this way he directs his hated steps.
Retire into that room—seldom he fails
To hint his bold desires. Your self perhaps
May thence detect him, and by open shame
Deter him from persisting.

[Paulet goes into the room.
Glanville enters.

SCENE IV.

Cleone, Glanville.
Glanville.
I greet you, lady, with important news;
The Saracens are beaten—yet Sifroy,
Coldly neglectful of your blooming charms,
Pursues a remnant of the flying foe
To strong Avignon's walls, where shelter'd safe,
The hardy troops may bear a tedious siege.
Why then, Cleone, should you still resist
The soft entreaties of my warm desire?
Methinks the man but ill deserves your truth,
Who leaves the sweet Elysium of your arms
To tread the dangerous fields of horrid war.

Cleone.
And what, O Glanville, what dost thou deserve?
Thou, who with treachery repay'st the trust
Of sacred friendship? Thou, who but to quench
A loose desire, and gain a moment's pleasure,
Would'st banish truth and honour from thy breast?

Glanville.
Honour!—What's honour? A vain phantom rais'd
To fright the weak from tasting those delights,
Which Nature's voice, that surest law, enforces.
Be wise, and laugh at all its idle threats.
Besides, with me your fame would be secure,
Discretion guards my name from Censure's tongue.

Cleone.
And dost thou call hypocrisy, discretion?
Say'st thou that vice is wisdom? Glanville, hear me.
With thee, thou say'st, my fame would be secure;
Unsully'd by the world. It might. Yet know,
Tho' hid beneath the center of the earth,
Remov'd from Envy's eye, and Slander's tongue,
Nay from the view of Heaven itself conceal'd,
Still would I shun the very thought of guilt,
Nor wound my secret conscience with reproach.

Glanville.
Romantic all! Come, come, why is your form
So exquisite, so tempting for delight;
With eyes that languish, limbs that move with grace—
Why were these beauties given you, but to soothe
The strong, the sweet sensations they excite?
Why were you made so beauteous, yet so coy?

[Offers to embrace her, she puts him by with disdain.
Cleone.
Base hypocrite! why rather wer't thou suffer'd
Beneath fair Virtue's mien to hide a heart
So vile? why this, good Heaven! But dost thou think
Thy foul devices shall be still conceal'd?
Sifroy shall know thee; thy detested crime
At last shall be laid open to his view.

Glanville.
Is love a crime? O ask your feeling heart—

[Paulet bursts from the room.

SCENE V.

Cleone, Glanville, Paulet.
Paulet.
Villain, desist!

Glanville.
Ha! Paulet here!—'Tis well:
He is her minion then! 'tis as I guess'd;
My letters to Sifroy traduc'd them not.

[Aside.
Paulet.
Vile hypocrite!—what, lurk such warm desires
Beneath that sober mark of sanctity?
Is this the firm undoubted honesty,
In which Sifroy believes himself so safe?

Glanville.
And is it fit that thou should'st lecture vice?
Thou, who ev'n here, this moment wert conceal'd,
The favorite object of lewd privacy?
Should'st thou declaim against the rich repast,
Thy gluttonous appetite alone enjoys
To all the heights of luxury?—Sweet lady!
Who now shall be laid open to Sifroy?
But I have long, long known your intercourse,
And wanted not this proof to make it clear.

[Going.
Cleone.
O heaven and earth!

Paulet.
Stay, monster! By high heaven,
Thy life shall answer the vile calumny.

Glanville.
Dream not I fear!—thy threatenings I despise.
Soon I'll return, to thine and her confusion.

[Exit Glanville.

SCENE VI.

Cleone, Paulet.
Cleone.
What have I done? unhappy, rash imprudence!
Hath he not seeming cause for foul suspicion?

Paulet.
He dares not wrong you with the least surmise,
The slightest imputation on your fame!
Nor would the world believe him. Your fair deeds,
The constant tenor of your virtuous life,
Would triumph o'er th' audacious tale.

Cleone.
Ah Paulet!
The sting of Slander strikes her venom deep.
The envious world with joy devours the tale,
That stains with infamy a spotless name.
Yet what's the vain opinion of the world!
To keep one voice, one single heart's esteem,
Is all my wish. If my Sifroy but think—

Paulet.
Wound not your peace with vain ungrounded fears:
My friend is noble, knows your virtues well;
Nor will he suffer jealousy to shake
His generous mind with doubt. And for that wretch,
This arm shall give him chastisement.

Cleone.
Ah! no;
I fear the chastisement of Glanville's guilt
May loose the tongue of Censure on my innocence.
And can I bear, now, in my husband's absence,
The whisper'd malice of a dubious tale
On his Cleone's truth?
O rather leave his punishment to Heaven!
At least defer it till my lord's return.

Paulet.
And shall the man I love return, and find
A villain unchastis'd, who in my sight
Audaciously presum'd to wound his honour?
Forbid it friendship!

[Re-enter Glanville with Ragozin.

SCENE VII.

Cleone, Paulet, Glanville, Ragozin.
Glanville.
Sir, be pleas'd to know,
'Tis with authority that I forbid
Your entrance in this house. Sifroy, convinc'd
Of all your secret crimes with that vile wanton,
Spurns from his door the falshood he disdains.

Cleone.
Let me not hear it!—I! am I a wanton?
Does my dear lord think his Cleone vile?

Glanville.
He knows it well.

Paulet.
Villain, 'tis false! He scorns
So mean a thought.

Glanville.
To silence every doubt,
See his own hand.
Paulet, shewing the letter to Ragozin.
Say, whence is this? who brought it?

Ragozin.
I brought it from my master.

Glanville.
Look upon it.

[Cleone and Paulet look over it.
Cleone.
Am I then banish'd from my husband's house?
Branded with infamy?—was once his wife!
Unkind Sifroy! am I not still thy wife?
Indeed thy faithful wife! and when thou know'st,
As know thou wilt, how falsely I'm accus'd,
This cruel sentence sure will pierce thy heart.

Paulet.
Amazement strikes me dumb!—This impious scroll
Is forg'd. Sifroy, tho' rash, is noble, just,
And good. Too good, too noble to permit
So mean a thought to harbour in his breast.

Cleone.
No: 'tis his hand—his seal. And can I bear
Suspicion! O Sifroy, didst thou not know
My heart incapable—

Paulet.
Audacious wretch!
At what fell mischief has thy malice aim'd?

Glanville.
At thine and her detection: which at length
I have accomplish'd.

Paulet.
Impudent and vain!
Think'st thou Cleone's virtue, her fair truth,
Can suffer taint from thy unhallow'd breath?
Were they not proof but now against thy arts?

Glanville.
Mistaken man! To gain one personal proof
Of her incontinence, that feign'd attempt
Was made; all other proof I had before,
And why I fail'd thou know'st;
Who in her private chamber close conceal'd,
Mad'st it imprudent she should then comply.

Cleone.
Detested slanderer! I despise thy baseness;
Disdain reply; and trust in Heaven's high hand
To dash thy bold designs.

[Exit Cleone.
Paulet,
whispering.
Observe me, Sir—
This insult on the honour of my friend
Must be chastis'd. At morning's earliest dawn,
In the close vale, behind the castle's wall,
Prepare to meet me arm'd.

Glanville.
Be well assur'd
I will not fail.
[Exit Paulet.
Yet stay—let Prudence guide me—
Courage, what is't?—'tis folly's boisterous rashness,
And draws its owner into hourly dangers.
I hold it safer he were met to-night.
[Aside.
Thou see'st, my Ragozin, we are embark'd
Upon a troubled sea: our safeties now
Depend on boldly steming every wave,
That might o'erwhelm our hopes. Paulet must die—
He's dangerous, and not only may defeat
Our enterprize, but bring our lives in hazard.

Ragozin.
Shall we not frustrate thus your first design,
To make the law subservient to your aims
Against the life and fortunes of Sifroy?

Glanville.
Leave that to me. Sifroy, full well I know,
Will soon arrive. Thou, when the gloom of night
Shall cast a veil upon the deeds of men,
Trace Paulet's steps, and in his bosom plunge
Thy dagger's point: thus shall thy care prevent
His future babbling; and to prove the deed
Upon Sifroy, be mine.

Ragozin.
He dies this night.

Glanville.
Let thy first blow make sure his death,
So shall no noise detect thee. Hither strait
Convey his corpse, which secretly inter'd
Within the garden's bound, prevents discovery,
Till I shall spring the mine of their destruction.

Ragozin.
He shall not live an hour.

[Exit Ragozin.
Glanville.
Hence, hence Remorse!
I must not, will not feel thy scorpion sting.
Yet hell is in my breast, and all its fiends
Distract my resolutions.—I am plung'd
In blood, and must wade thro': no safety now
But on the farther shore. Come then, Revenge,
Ambition come, and disappointed Love;
Be you my dread companions: steel, O steel
My heart with triple firmness, nerve my arm
With tenfold strength, and guide it to atchieve
The deeds of Terror which your selves inspir'd.