University of Virginia Library


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ACT I.

SCENE I.

The Inside of a Magnificent Temple the whole Extent of the Stage: at the farther End of which a stately Altar, on it the Statue of Mercury: beneath that, a Couch. The Curtain rises with terrible Claps of Thunder, and Guinoenda is discover'd sitting in a melancholly Posture, and on each side Priestesses comforting her; on the Front of the Stage Dumnacus, and a Druid.
Dumn.
Come, come, no more I say, it is not fit
That you, whom Learning, Years and Wisdom make
The Deity almost of Bayonne, nay of Gaul,
Shou'd be a Novice still; at the proud Beck
Of others, far less worthy than your self.
Subjection is a Burthen at the best,
Ev'n to one Nobler, Greater, than ones self:
But to the Draff of Men, to doating Folly,
Is what a Man of Spirit ne're will bear.

Druid.
O Dumnacus! O Majesty of Andes!
You know, that our supream Druid
Is Uncle to the King, your Son in Law.

Dumn.
True; and I know farther,
That when they fear'd thy Merit at th'Election,

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Wou'd bear it from all Candidates; they basely
Scatter'd their Bribes, urg'd the King's Will, and so
Depriv'd thee of thy Right, Supream Command
In things Divine; the Empire of our Souls.

Druid.
What can I do, but silently submit
To wrongs, I've not the power to Revenge?

Dum.
Oh! you mistake—you have it in your pow'r;
The King by foolish pride of Empire blind;
First Injures, and then trusts you with the means
To punish his Injustice.

Druid.
Speak the way,
And by yon Altar, nay by its auful God!
I will this moment catch the bright occasion,
And venture all to do it.

Dum.
Spoke like your self;
Thou know'st, O! Druid! that I've been a King!
Oh! Hell! to think I've been, but am no more!
King of the Andes, and the Romans Terrour,
The chosen Head of all confederate Gaul.

Druid.
To me you still shall be a King.

Dum.
Oh! no!
Fortune has chose another Darling now;
For Julius Cæsar drives me from my Throne,
And with unweary'd malice hunts my Life.
Hither I fled to shelter me from Fortune;
For Bayonne, this small petty Kingdom's all,
Of wretched Gaul, that now remains Unconquer'd:
And here I hop'd, because my Daughter's Queen,
I might be safe from all the Bolts of Fortune.
But mark, O Druid! mark th'Ingrateful King;
Who, when he fought beneath my Banner, su'd,
Beg'd, and Implor'd my Daughter for his Wife;
Now slights, contemns, and throws her Beauties from him,
As a loath'd food of which he h'd ta'ne a surfeit.

Druid.
I know the Cause—the Queen of Cambria!
See yonder, where she sits all drown'd in Tears:

Dum.
Oh! that those Tears, were Blood! yes for that Vagrant
That cursed Woman!
The faithless King devotes us all to Ruin!
But yet, my Druid, Fate points out a way
To make us happy; nay to make thee happy.

Dru.
Impossible! for I can ne're be happy
Whilst on another's Brow I See the Wreaths,
The sacred Misletoe, and not on mine.

Dum.
To that I come—our Woes and Happiness
Are closely joyn'd, inseperably close.

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Know then,—the People by Opression rous'd,
And touch'd with mine, and with my Daughter's Sufferings
Arm all this Morning, to depose the King,
Who hastens home from his Victorious Army;
Proud of the trifling Spoils h'has won from Rome,
With a thin Guard, impatient to this Temple,
To see his Minion, fled for Refuge hither.
The Druid too his Uncle, who protects her,
Is now gone out to meet him.

Dru.
I know it well;
For in the dark I left his servile Band
To meet you here, according to your Summons.

Dum.
To you the foolish King confides her Children;
Deliver them to us, and your Reward.
Is the bright Dignity you only merit,
You punish thus the King; oblige the Queen,
Who soon will be Disposer of the Fate
Of Bayonne.

Dru.
Ha! Sir—What? betray my Trust?

Dum.
The foolish Trust of thy inveterate Foe.

Dru.
What in the Sight of Hermes? Gaul's great God?

Dum.
That God to whom Chief Druid thou shalt be,
As he's the Chief of all the Gods to Gaul.

Dru.
Does not this horrid Night forbid this Guilt?

Dum.
Art thou, whose Function consecrates the Night
To Vows, and Sacrifice, affraid of Darkness?

Dru.
The Terrors of this Night make Nature start
As 'twere a Warning to its Dissolution.
A Fiery Deluge over-flows the Skie,
And every Horrid Burst of Thunder shakes
The firm Foundation of this sacred Dome.
A Pile erected by the Gods themselves,
And Hermes trembles at the dreadful Shock.
The holy Tapers wink, while Floods of Fire
Roll thro the Ples a rapid, blasting Light:
Then, in a dusky Gloom, all's lost again.

Dum.
A Common fit of Sickness in the Elements,
Natural, as Snow, or Frosts in Winter seasons.

Druid.
Oh! as I coasted the insulted shoar,
A thousand hideous Portents cross'd the road.
Fantastic Armies here, as routed fled,
And from the beetling Cliffs plung'd in the Flood;
There rising Billows overlook'd the Shoar,
And held th'impending Deluge in the Air,
'Till, with a dismal Roar they bounded back,
As 'twere to take a yet more fierce Career,
Yet still unable to o'releap the Fence,

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Foaming, and furious at the fatal Check,
They dash'd a Ship to pieces on the Rocks;
I heard the horrid Crash, and then the Cries,
And lamentable Groans of drowning Men.

Dum.
Dreams, Dreams, of Fear, come come, they kill your hopes
The King comes home, on all the Wings of Love,
And then takes from you the dear Means of Vengeance
And of thy Purple Grandeur.

Dru.
Ha! That thought still fires, and alarms my Soul!
Come with me strait; they're yours,
Since ther's no other Way to all my Hopes!
Yet I cou'd wish th'Hibernian King, whose Love
Surpriz'd, and forc'd her from the Cambrian Coast
Had bore her far from hence, for then
I had been wretched, but I'd not been guilty.

[Exeunt ambo.
Guinoenda rises and comes forward.
1. Priest.
Learn, learn the Lot of mortal State, Misfortunes,
In fatal Circles, roll about the World;
Now fall on these, then bound to other Heads,
Encompass'd with the gaudy Round of Pow'r,
And dash their brittle Happiness to pieces.

Guin.
I, I, alas! am a sad Proof of that!
O! Guinoenda! Wretched without equal!
Alas! you know not what it is I've lost!
I've lost!—Ah! what indeed have I not lost!
My, Crown, my Country, Children, and my King.

2. Priest.
Let not your present Fortune thus oppress you.

Guin.
Lately, how lately! all Men, hail'd me Happy!
Queen of the noblest Nation of the World;
Wife to the greatest Hero of that Nation;
And Mother to a Race of Demi-Gods!
O! Cambria! Cambria! wou'd you see your Queen?
O! Rhesus! Rhesus! wou'd you see your Wife?
Behold her now a wretched Slave in Bayonne!
Her Happiness, all vanish'd like a Dream!
Behold her now, to whom no Wretch e're sought
For help in vain, seeking in vain Relief
Against th'Assaults of Hate, and lawless Love!
Behold her now alas! no more a Queen!
But a depending Prey to hopes, and Fears!
Ah! no—to wild Despair, for hopes I've none!

1. Priest.
Be comforted—nor throw off friendly Hope,
Since from the greatest Woe, the greatest Joy may rise;

Guin.
There is no Joy, no Joy alas! for me!
The King, when present haunts me with his Love,

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His odious Love. And in his absence the mistaken Queen
Pursues we with her Hate.
This is my sad variety of Woe!
Now he returns, with Conquest o'r his Foes.
That Fear remov'd, he Impiously may slight
The holy Terrors of this Sanctuary.

2. Priest.
Your Fears still form your Dangers much to great.

Guin.
Oh! that I'd perish'd in that dismal Storm,
That drove me Shipwrack'd on this fatal Coast!
Why was I sav'd to ruin my Preserver!
The Queen, that took me, with m'expiring Children,
From out the Waves, by me alas! is ruin'd!
O! racking thought! ev'n but to seem ingrateful!
Oh! Agony of Soul!

1. Priest.
Why shou'd you thus against your self make War?
For what you did not, what you cannot help?
The King 'tis true pursues you with his Love,
And for your sake deserts the hapless Queen;
You sooth not his Desires: Nor can You help it.

2. Priest.
Why are you here? within these sacred Walls?
But to avoid his Love? Why have you chose
That bleak hard Lodging ne're the Holy Altar?
But that you might not by the lawless King
Be forc'd to injure her, that once preserv'd you?
What can you more to satisfie your Virtue?
Or to prevent th'unhappy Queens Misfortune?

Guin.
Yet she pursues mine, and my Childrens Lives:
And has this Night, with furious Threats, twice summon'd
Me to leave this Temple.

1. Priest.
Let her rage on, she cannot reach you here;
And hence our Druid charges, that you stir not
'Till he arrive: and he will soon be here.

Guin.
That is some Comfort: for I fain wou'd Live
To see the dear Remains of all my little Tribe
Safe in their Fathers Arms; in his protecting Arms.
Yes I wou'd fain,—but oh! that wo'not be!—
The cruel fates deny me that, fain I wou'd
Behold my Rhesus e're I die.

[She weeps.
1. Priest.
Talk not dying; the Gods will only trie you.

Guin.
Yes, yes ye Matrons I must die; I feel
A sad foreboding in my Soul, that says
Thy fate O! Guinoenda! now approaches!
I feel, I feel the angry hand of Heav'n!
My guilty Fathers Punishments reach me!
They shake with horror all my trembling Frame.

1. Priest.
What fears tormented fancy can awake!


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Guin.
O! Princes! learn to be your Peoples Fathers!
Let not Ambition make you slight the Laws!
For such the Gods pursue with large Destruction;
Sweep from the Earth their whole unhappy Race!
The guiltless, with the guilty fall, in one sad Ruin.

2. Priest.
Whither her fears, and Miseries transport her?

Guin.
Yet O! ye Gods! if I must share the Fate
[kneels.
Of my unhappy house,
If my Innocence and virtue can't appease you,
Nor all the mighty Woes I've suffer'd!
For all the Vows, and Pray'rs I've sent up to you
If I must die, Oh! let me first behold
My Rhesus, my dear Husband! that his hands
May close my Eyes, which last of all on him
May press their sickly Beams behold his Tears,
A flood of Tears flow from his melting eyes;
And feel their pleasing Fall upon my Face.
For he wou'd weep to see me die; wou'd feel
Each Pang of mine, wou'd suffer all my Pains;
Be tortur'd with my Agonys, and die
Almost with me! for tho' in Battle fierce
And dauntless as the God of War in danger;
Yet is he soft, and tender in his Love,
As Woman, in her first, and Virgin fires.
Full of compassion, and unweary'd Truth;
The best of Husbands, Friends, of Kings, and Fathers.
O! sad Remembrance of what once I had,
But ne'r must have again! O fate! O fortune!

2. Priest.
Madam the Queen.

1. Priest.
Be mistress of your temper.

Guin.
Alas! I pitty her! yes from my Soul,
I pitty her!
'Tis sad enough to see her Father driv'n
To a dependance on the man, that slights her,
But then to love, and loose the Man she loves,
By his unkindness loose him, Oh! 'tis a Torture,
That none but those, that love like us can tell.

Enter Queen attended.
Messenger
to the Queen, as she enters.
Madam King Dumnacus your royal father,
Sends me to let you know he now has got
The British Children; and he bids you hast,
Since both the King, and Druid will be here,
Within an hour, or two, his Spys assure him.

Queen.
Enough—return with speed, and tell my Father

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He may proceed with them, as he design'd;
Their Mother soon I shall prepare to meet them.
[Exit.
The Queen goes up to Guinoenda.
How long must I command my Slave in vain?
What you disdain Obedience to Me now.—
Since the curs'd Dotage of my faithless King
You proudly swell above your humble Lot,
But we shall see thy fond Ambition burst thee,
While it contends with Majesty like mine.

Guin.
Far be Contention, Madam, between us!
Our common Sorrows, shou'd alas! unite us.
I doubly feel the Pain, for which you grieve,
Both from my Gratitude, and the sad Cause
Of all your Woe.

Queen.
Yes, yes, thou hast rewarded,
My foolish Pity, thou hast well rewarded,
That took (Oh! Curses on the hour I did it!)
That took thee, Ship-wreck'd, up with thy two Children,
Half drown'd, half dead; comforted, warm'd, reviv'd you;
Cherish'd you in my Bosom, as my own.
When like th'ingrateful Serpent, brought to Life,
Thou fly'st at thy Preserver; pois'ns her Peace,
And spreads thy subtle venome o're her Joys.—
By Witcheries, and black, sinister Arts,
Thou did'st seduce my faithless Husbands Heart,
For by nought else cou'dst thou delude him from me,
From Eyes more bright, and powerful, than thine;
From the illustrious Bed of Andes Daughter,
To the inglorious feet of a poor Vagabond.
But with a just Revenge I come to punish
Ingratitude of such a Monstrous Growth,
Nor shall this Temple, or its God protect thee.

Guin.
That God be Witness, how your suffrings pain me!
How much unhappy your Misfortunes make me!
Oh! as I merit not this unjust Rage,
So is it needless to compleat my Woe,
For without that, I am entirely wretched!
I wou'd be silent therefore, if I durst;
But that my silence wou'd confess a Guilt
From which I'm free, for well your self you know,
That on the Kings first falshood, I fled hither:
Here have remaind e'r since, in hopes of Succour
From the great Gods, if Man deny'd me help.


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Queen.
Yes, yes, I know you fled
But Fear of me, not of his Love,
Compell'd thy guilty flight into this Temple.
But I will drive thee hence—I will—nor think
With fawning speeches to appease my Rage,
Those take with vulgar Minds, but with a Soul,
Like mine sublime, they but provoke.
Tune then no more thy Syrens Voice to sooth me,
With soft'ning Words, while yet I feel thy Deeds
Thy hellish Sorceries, and my King enstrang'd.

Guin.
Condemn'd thus blindly, by your partial hate.
I must acquit my self, and boldly tell you,
'Tis to your self you owe your loss, not me.
The Insolence of your uneasie Pride,
Your dayly Boasts of your paternal Grandeur,
With your Contempt of his; your hourly Contests
Have made his heart grow weary of your Sway.
And catch the least Appearance of more ease.
If you'd regain it, you must teach your Tongue
The humble Arts of a fond, tender Wife;
Banish your Pride, assume a pleasing Temper,
These are the Philtres to preserve a Heart;
When froward Beauty but disgusts the wise,
Not Form, but Virtue makes a lasting Love.

Qu.
Am I then guilty, and you innocent?

Guin.
Who persecute the Innocent, are guilty.

Qu.
Who will be guilty by their own Confession?
But you grow Insolent in bold Replies,
My Justice soon shall cool you.

Guin.
Too much, too much you threaten.

Qu.
You threaten not, but act.

Guin.
I act by Reason, Justice, and Religion.

Qu.
Your Cambrian Notions are no Rules to us.

Guin.
Base things, in every Climate are the same.

Qu.
You may talk on, but you shall surely Die.

Guin.
See you not Hermes my Protector yonder?

Qu.
I come to make you quit his stoln Protection.

Guin.
You never shall.

Qu.
Believe not that, thy Death
Is sixt, as fate, before the King's Return.

Guin.
I will not quit this holy Temple.

Qu.
With Flames I'll then surround thy cursed Body.

Guin.
Light thou the impious flame, the God's my safe-guard.

Qu.
Ten thousand Wounds shall pierce thy guilty Heart.

Guin.
Here kill me then, that the polluted Temple
Provoke the Vengeance of the God's upon thee.


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Qu.
Injurious Pow'rs to guard the guilty thus!

Guin.
Accuse not them, they guard, in me, thy Safety.

Qu.
No, no, the King at Distance views thee now;
Else he wou'd throw thee from him, like a Weed,
That his mistaking Eye had made him crop,
Gay to the sight, but to the Smell most loathsome,
Yet least thy cunning Arts still keep him off
From that Discovery, 'till I am ruin'd,
I now will root thee up my self.

Guin.
Never, never.

Queen.
Is then my Pow'r contemn'd? sit basely here,
And let thy Children, suffer in thy Place,

Guin.
My Children!

Queen.
Yes, stay here, and let them die.

Guin.
O! Queen! how have they injur'd you?

Queen.
In thee!

Guin.
Is there no medium betwixt these sad Extreams?

Queen.
None.

Guin.
What is my Guilt?

Queen.
Wronging me.

Guin.
Oh! that's my Fortunes Guilt, and none of mine.

Queen.
Thy fortune I cannot punish; I can thee.
I owe my Miseries to thee alone;
And thou alone canst end my Miseries.
My Father, watchful for his Daughters Safety
At length, has got thy hateful Off-spring;
And will by them remove the fatal Cause
Of both our growing Woes.

Guin.
Have I not sent
To Britain the sad story of my Fortune?
If Rhesus live, he'l soon flie to my Rescue.
(Good God's Preserve him from this dreadful Storm!)
If he be dead, I die without your Crime.

Queen.
No more of thy vain Boasts, that trick is old,
Nor trust to thy imaginary Pow'r.
I can believe no more, Oh! that I never had!
I heard thy Story, thought the fiction real:
Thought thee a Queen, torn from thy King, and Country
By a base Ravisher, this I believ'd;
And pittied thy sad Case.
I knew what 'twas to wear a Crown, and saw
What 'twas to loose it, in my Father.
But thy Ingratitude has wak'd me now
From these vain Day-dreams.
Therefore no more; Or quit this awful Temple,
Or stay, and let thy Children suffering Racks;

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Expire in Tortures, for thy Crimes, not theirs.

Guin.
Wait but one Day.

Queen.
What you wou'd have me wait
The swift return of my injurious Husband.
You in his coming place your surest hope!
But I'll prevent that, and this Minute go.—

Guin.
Oh! stay! stay but one hour; I do conjure you,
kneels & takes hold of her.
By all your hopes! by your Desires! who knows
What strange Events one hour may produce.

Queen.
No more, in vain, in vain you strive to move me.

Guin.
Stay but One Moment, that I may but think.

Queen.
Away, and touch me not, least I profane
The Temple, and ev'n here transfix thy heart.
The Gods thy Guard.—Yet shou'd he fence thee round
With sulph'rous flames, and Moats of boyling Lead;
I'll send a summons, e're the King return,
As near as thy vain hopes believe him, shall
Make thee with rapid fury fly thro' All,
Fly this Protection, and my Victim fall.

[breaks from her and exits.
Guin.
O! Queen! Oh! hear me! hear me speak!
Ha! she is gone to murder my poor Children!
Oh! let me fly with speed to save their Lives!

Enter Voelia.
Voel.
O! Madam! Oh! most sad, most dismal Sight!
I scarce can speak it, or believe my Eyes.

Guin.
Ha! speak quickly, least my fears destroy me.

Voel.
The barbarous Dumnacus, has got your Children,
Has bound them, and has vow'd their Death,
Immediate Death, if not by you prevented.

Guin.
Oh! bear me swiftly to him least my fears
For their dear lives, shou'd rob them of their Ransom.

1. Priest.
Trust not his Word; he may when you have left
This Place of safety, kill both you, and them.

Guin.
If they must die, oh! let not me survive them!
What have I left in Life, when they are gone,
My utmost Hope! to justifie my living:
No I were poor of Soul indeed, to buy
A loathsom Life with their inhumane Suff'rings.
What let the poor dear Innocents, for me,
Endure the Rack! for me in Torture, die!
Stand off—away—methinks I hear em cry!
Oh! to their Rescue let me swiftly fly
For in their Fate ten thousand Deaths I die.

The End of the first Act.