 | Love's Victim : Or, The Queen of Wales |  |
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ACT II.
SCENE I.
The Grove before the Temple, near the front of the Stage, the Altar or Urn Pluto; on one side enter Dumnacus, Guards and Attendants; conducting in Tyrelius, and Manselia bound, on the other side enter Guinoenda, Voelia, and Attendants.Guino.
speaks Entring.
I've left the Temple, and am in your Pow'r:
With me do what you will, but save their Lives:
To give them second Life, I yield my own.
Oh! my poor Children!
[Embracing them.
Seeing the Children she runs to them, and they to her, and the Girle presses close under her arm.
Guin.
Oh! my cruel Fortune!
Whose sad Contagion spreads to all that's mine!
O! Gods! oh! will you never be appeas'd!
Dum.
Seize and bind her.
As they bind her she speaks to her Children.
Guin.
If you live, my Children,
Remember me, amid'st what Ills I perish!
And when you see your father
Embrace his Neck, and with a Flood of Tears!
Tell him what I have done to ransome you.
Dum.
No more of this, but listen to your Doom.
'Twas but a Bait, to draw you from the Temple,
When we propos'd to save your Childrens Lives;
For by the Root I must cut up this Bramble,
That choaks my Daughters Path to Happiness.
Guin.
Alas! then I'm betray'd! basely betray'd.
Dum.
You are indeed, I own the useful Cheat.
Guin.
But is this just?
Dum.
Revenge of Wrongs is just.
Guin.
Think you there are no Gods to punish you?
Dum.
Let Time prove that, you first at least shall die.
Guin.
But will you murder too these Innocents?
Dum.
Your Fate involves them, 'cause they're yours they die.
Guin.
Oh! my Children! oh! how shall I deplore you?
Yet if the Lust of Mischief blind you not,
Consider for your own, and Daughters sake,
What 'tis you do; the King this hour returns,
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The bloody actors in these horrid Murders.
Dum.
Murder? to offer thee? a slave and guilty?
To the great Gods, in pious Sacrifice?
We offer Thousands better every Day,
Besides in this I serve him;—
Redeem his Fame, rescue him from Infamy.
And when the Witchcraft of thy Charms is gone,
He'll own it, and reward the daring Love,
That boldly snatch'd th'enchanted Cup away.
That wou'd have sunk his Godlike Form to brutal.
Guin.
Let me then die alone; 'tis Wantonness
Of Cruelty, to kill these too?
Dum.
To spare one Foe, that may be slain, is Folly:
For that one spar'd, too late, we may wish dead;
And from a small unheeded Spark may rise
A Fire, that may destroy us All.
Guin.
Oh! Mournful Pomp of Fate! oh! My dear Children!
You soon, within the peaceful Grave, shall lye,
Togather, on your wretched Mother's Bosom.
Tyrel.
Revenge like this is worthy such a King
On helpless Woman, and defenceless Children!
Thy Soul is fal'n even to ev'n lower, than thy Fortune.
Dum.
So hot young Sir, 'tis fit to cool you then.
Guin.
Kneel both, and, as you may, take hold of him;
And press his knees, and force his heart to pitty.
Mans.
O! dear Sir, spare spare my life.
Guin.
Ah! Let my life, my life suffice, 'tis I,
'Tis I, have injur'd you, if any has.
Who rob'd your Daughter of her Husbands Heart?
'Twas I, who then shou'd suffer for it? Only I.
Mans.
Oh! Sir Spare me!
Tyr.
Sister, no more Laments, but for our Mother
Let us both begg, Yes I will begg for her.
[kneels.
Look on me, Sir, I ne'r was taught to sue,
Sprung from a King, and nurst up in Command,
Yet for her sake; for my dear Mothers sake,
Ill begg, and weep—
Or any thing to gain her Life. Ah! spare her!
Spare my Mother! Kneel all, and begg her Life!
[All kneel
Guin.
Begg not for mine but theirs. Ah! Spare my Children!
Tyr.
Ah! Spare my Mother!
Voel.
Ah! spare them all, we all implore your Mercy,
For her, and for her Children t'abstain from Ill,
When in your Power's indeed to be a King.
Dum.
Why do you throw your selves about my feet?
Besige me round, with all your bootless Weepings?
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That blow, and dash in vain against the Rocks,
Unmov'd I stand; and unrelenting fixt,
In what I have resolv'd.
Tyr.
rising
Kill not my Mother if you wou'd spare me;
For this be sure I will revenge her Death.
Guin.
Ah! mind not him, or else, at least forgive
His pious Anger, which you shou'd admire.
I've been a Queen, out-liv'd my Happiness,
And Death to me wou'd be most welcome,
A wretched slave, the object of her hate,
Who sav'd my Life, and what's a greater Evil,
The Object of his Love, whom must I hate,
As the detested Foe to Honour—
Tyr.
You seem a Man make not on Women War,
A tender Woman and a puling Girle.
Are not just Objects of a manly Anger.
If you want vengeance, turn your self to me,
For killing me, you kill a Man, a Foe,
A sure Revenger of his Mothers Wrongs.
My Father meant, that I shou'd be a Soldier,
And from the Cradle train'd me up to Glory.
Young as I am, I've seen a thousand die.
'Tis but a strugling Gasp, and all is quiet,
And can I then fear Death, in such a Cause?
Guin.
O! Dumnacus! cannot such virtue move thee?
Tyr.
Oh! that I now were free from these vile Bands!
But you did well to bind me thus;—
For thou wou'dst tremble, were my Hands but free,
Nor dare let fall our Doom, from thy base faultring Tongue
For sure the Guilty must be always Cowards!
Mansel.
Ah! Brother dont provoke him! Oh! Sir!
Tyr.
Sue not to him; why shou'd the Blood of Rhesus
Sue to a banish'd wretch, to be rejected!
Let me provoke thee Traytor—
I scorn thy Pitty, and contemn thy Mercy!
All Obligations to the base are odious,
But to owe Life to one so base, as thee
My soul disdains; no give me speedy Death,
There's an Antipathy betwixt us two,
So great, I start at farther Converse with thee.
Guin.
Ah! speak him fair, my Boy, he may relent,
He h's known Distress, shou'd therefore know Compassion.
Tyr.
Madam believe it not, base Minds, like his,
Ne're feel Compassion; the brave alone feel that.
Butcher dispatch, I'm weary of this waiting,
For Life's offensive, while it shews me thee.
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Dispatch him first; the Boy's in hast it seems
This froathy Buble shall be quickly broken.
Guin.
Oh! spare my Son! spare my dear darling Boy!
His Fathers Image both in Form and Virtue!
And for his sake, for his dear Life preserv'd
Rhesus if yet he live, will give you Ransom:
An ample Ransom; perhaps, forgive my Death.
Dum.
Woman, no more; I have delay'd too long,
Amus'd by your curs'd Arts. Dispatch 'em strait.
I else may loose my Prey.—dispatch I say—
Death! how slowly do the Villans move?
What have you all forgotten to obey?
Or has this Woman brib'd you to her Rescue?
Guin.
rising.
O! ye false Gauls ye Enemies to all men!
Deceitful, crafty, cunning—little Arts
Mean Counsels are your Study—
Open fair dealing, as a Crime, ye abhor,
But serpentine in kind, your false Designs
You roll, in subtle Volumes from our Eyes.
By Perjury you thrive, by Treachery grow.
Oh! may you perish all, ye guilty Nation!
Yes Rome will soon revenge me, and sweep you
From off the Earth, ye Rubbish of the World!
Dum.
No more—your Rage is vainer, than your Pray'rs.
I say dispatch 'em slaves! or I shall drive you.
As they lead them to the Altar of Pluto the chief Druid of Mercury enters attended by a Troop of Druids in their habits, with holy Banners flying, and Trophies.
Chief Druid
speak entring.
Hold! I command you hold!—flie you before—
My aged Limbs too slowly bear me on
To their Relief. Now by the sacred Powers,
What means this face of Murder? What these Bands?
Who has prophan'd the Sanctuary of Hermes?
And forc'd her from the awful God I serve,
Whom he vouchsaf'd to shelter? tell me, that,
As our blest Gallic Laws decree, I may
Pronounce him curs'd; cut off from all the Rights
Of humane-kind, and Commerce with the Gods.
Shew me I say the giulty Wretch.—
Guin.
O reverend Druid! welcome to th'unhappy,
As the kind God whose Minister you are!
Like him you come to succour the distress'd!
You come to her who had no hope on Earth.
They dragg me, as you see, with my poor Children,
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Not for Devotion to th'infernal God
But to revenge imaginary Wrongs
They make m'unhappyness, alas! my Crime,
And wou'd destroy us all, because I'm wretched!
[Weeps.
Druid.
What fraud, or Force has drawn you from the Temple?
Guin.
The Force they us'd was only on the Mind,
Yet such as no fond Mother cou'd resist.
To save my Children I my self surrender'd,
But oh! in vain! for now they kill us all.
O! Venerable Sir, behold I kneel
I wou'd extend my hands, t'implore your Aid,
But those alas! are bound! help or we perish!
Basely for you, but wretchedly for us.
Druid.
Hast, and unbind them.
Dum.
Touch 'em not, they're mine,
By Right are mine.
Druid.
By Right? what Right? unbind 'em
Dum.
Forbear—
They are my Daughters—for, a worthless Wreck
From gloomy Dis she snatch'd them, but will now
Restore his ravish'd Victims.
Druid.
Prophane Impostor!
To make Religion Pandar to thy Vengeance
But all's the Kings, as his I will preserve them.
Dum.
If they are his they're mine, as mine are his
All things are common, Sir, betwixt true Friends.
Druid.
T'assist, but not destroy.
Dum.
You sha'not bear 'em off.
Druid.
Forbear to touch 'em, as you love your Life.
Dum.
No more, no more Old Man; I shall be angry.
Druid.
Angry!—now, by the Temples injur'd Honour.
What boots thy Anger? what shou'd make Me fear it?
Be angry at Rome; angry at thy self,
That did so ill defend thy native Kingdom
Aginst her Force. Think who, and where you are:
The wandring Reliques of a beaten Prince;
And in an others Court, not in your own,
That Lord it thus o're us, and all our Laws.
We're not the Andes, nor art thou King,
Who basely woud'st pollute with horrid Murders
Th'Asylum, that protects thee from Destruction;
That guards thy destin'd and inglorious Head.
Dum.
Dotard no more—thou feeble Railer peace.
Thy Age protects thee from my Rage; no more
Least I unman my self to punish thee.
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Nay threat not me,
Can'st thou rage here, who live but by our folly?
Else we shou'd soon give up thy hunted Life
To Cæsar, that demands it. For thou it was,
Engag'd the Gauls first to fall out with Rome;
Rang'd her confederate Pow'rs beneath thy Banner
And then fled from 'em—taught them all to flie;
And sunk the Pow'r, and Liberty of Gaul,
Oh! that we still shou'd for so vile a Cause
Thus sacrifice our lives and fortunes!
Who for that War thy own Ambition rais'd
Alone without one Wound, or Scratch art come.
Dum.
Trust not too much to that thy awful Robe,
Or thy securer Age; those pompous Ramparts
My Fury will o'er-bear—away I say—
Druid.
Thy Threats I smile at—thus you shou'd have threatned
When Cauinius aw'd thee, with his harrass'd Army;
Or when Duracius, coop'd up in a Town,
Despis'd thy Fury, laugh'd thee from his Walls.
Death! why were not you angry too, when Fabius
With a small Party made thee fly before him?
Then with a Handful drove thee from the Field.
Oh! Scandal to the Gallic Name, and Glory!
Thy Anger's safer here against a Woman,
And two small Children. They're more worthy Dumnacus!
Dum.
Oh! foolish Pow'r giv'n by th'unthinking People
To the imposing Priest-hood!
That consecrates Abuse, forbids Revenge,
For contumelious Wrongs, like these!—no more—
I shall forget the formal Duties paid thee,
Rush on thy sapless wither'd Trunk, and crush thee.
Druid.
Ha! vile Blasphemer! dare but to approach me,
And thou shalt find this sapless Trunk has Force
Enough to quel th'impious—
I'll be a Roman to thee.
Dum.
Gods! must I tamely bear these proud Insults
puts his hand to his Sword.
Capt. of the Guards
interposing
My Lord.
Let not your Anger drive you to your Ruin;
You know his Person sacred, by his Function:
Religion binds us all to rescue him.
Druid.
Oh! let him come—give his Fury way—
'Tis harmless all—
The Gods beheld thy impious thoughts of them,
And therefore took again the Crown, they gave thee.
Begon I say, ye sacrilegious Race.
Begon from Bayonne; with thy Daughter go—
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In thy own Ignominious Quarrel—
Not while my King, and Nephew, thy Defender
Is for thy Safty combating with Rome,
Disturb his house, and murder those he loves.
Ingratitude makes up thy Guilt—begone—
I shut thee from the Gods, for thy Impieties.
Thou worst of Men, and wicked, as thou'rt wretched.
Capt.
He's old, my Lord, and Age has Priveledge
Of Anger; you'd better, Sir, withdraw.
Dum.
Well I'll be calm; he shannot now provoke me.
By Blood allied, you shou'd have join'd my Cause
And freed your house, from this prevailing Mischief,
But since you have no thought at all of that,
I shall acquaint the Queen, my Daughter, who
It is, resists her Orders.
Druid.
Do; and tell her this—
I will do Justice; and protect th'oppress'd
Defend the Rights of the affronted Gods
Against both Queen and King, if they assault them.
Why else am I invested with this Pow'r?
With this most holy Robe, and sacred Office?
Which I by slavish Flat'ry won't betray,
Unbind 'em strait, or I'll exclude you all
From the Communion of our Sacrifices.—
Stand off; I will my self unbind the Queen.
Ha! did you think you'd bound an Ox, or Lion?
Or didst thou fear she'd grasp a Sword, and kill thee?
Thou'st bound her, as if she were a Roman!
Dum.
Oh! Patience! Patience, that the Bigotry
Of a blind People to their haughty Priests
Shou'd wrest my Vengance from me—
[Exit cum suis.
Guin.
O! Venerable Druid! may the Gods
Reward your Piety, and Goodness—
Protect us still from the too furious Queen.
Druid.
Be not affraid, but boldly to the Temple
The King by this must be arriv'd, but fear not
All will assist, when my just Right's invaded.
And I my self will head the pious Band
I'm not so old but I can still command
Courage, and Heav'n no Rebel dare withstand.
Tyr.
Madam, no Danger fear, now I am free,
I'll get a Sword, and then your Guard I'll be;
For to reach you, they first shall pass thro' me.
Let not my Youth your Confidence destroy
The Gauls must find a Terror, in a British Boy.
[Exeunt Omnes.
The End of the Second Act.
| Love's Victim : Or, The Queen of Wales | |