 | The patriot, or the Italian Conspiracy |  |
33
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
A Hall in Castrucio's House.Scene Opens, and Conspirators, as in Consult, Lorenzo, Castrucio, Adimari, Valori, Fryar Stephen, &c.
Lor.
All Hands have here Subscrib'd, and that your Hearts
Prove resolute to what your Hands have written,
Behold the Messenger of Heav'n, this good Priest,
To bind you with most Holy Vows, and Oaths
Not to Disclose, or make least Sign, or Show
Of what you have both Heard, and Seen, and Sworn,
But bear your selves as if it ne'r had been.
Step.
Swear then, by all the Powers Celestial,
Not to reveal, tho' Racks were set before you,
A Syllable of what is past, and done.
All.
We Swear.
Enter Julio.
Jul.
What, hoa! Lorenzo, give me back my Hand,
Good Heav'n awake you to Repentance,
As it has me! Woudst thou believe it Brother?
Since I deliver'd thee that fatal Scroul,
That cursed Writing, my Heart rebell'd
Against it self, my Thoughts were up in Arms,
My Reason, and my Faculties were Wreck'd,
My Body, like the Hull of some lost Vessel,
Beaten and tumbled with my rolling Fears,
Therefore I charge thee give me back my Writing.
Lor.
What means my Brother?
Jul.
May I be doom'd ev'n to the worst of Fates,
If I enjoy'd the Beauties, that I sav'd;
The Horrors of the Treason shock'd my Joys,
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As if I'd drunk the Blood of Elephants,
Drowsy Mandragora, or the Juice of Hemlock.
Step.
I like him not, I think we'd best dispatch him.
Jul.
Nothing but Images of Horror round me,
Florence in Blood, the ravish'd Matrons raving,
Enclosures broke, and all the dismal Havock
Of Towns permitted to the Vengeful Sword.
Therefore, I say, return me my Writing;
For I will have it.
Enter Liberto, and Lando with Guards
Lan.
'Twas here I left them,
And came to you, lest Cosmo should not hear me,
His Sons being with them. See, Here they are.
Uber.
Seize 'em all.
[Guards seize 'em.
Horror upon me, what will this Night bring forth?
Yes, ye immortal Pow'rs, strike, strike Uberto,
Since these are here!—Julio and Lorenzo!
Oh! From this time let me be Blind and Dumb!
But hast there, Odo, fly, call hither Cosmo!
[Exit Odo.
Bid him for ever leave the Down of Rest,
And Sleep no more. If Florence were on Fire,
Rinaldo in the Streets, dealing round Slaughter,
He wou'd less wonder, than at Julio here.
Jul.
Stop there! Oh! Stop that Messenger of Fate,
Here bind, Uberto, bind this Villain's Hands,
Tear off my Robes, and lash me like a Slave,
Or like a Robber, hang me on a Gibbet,
Rack me a Year within some horrid Dungeon;
I do submit this Traytor, this Curs'd Villain,
To all the Stings of most ingenious Tortures,
So thou dispatch me e're my Father comes.
But hark! I hear the Tread of Fatal Cosmo!
I cannot bear his Face, away with me—
Or like a Whirlwind, I'll tear my Way,
I care not whither.
[Is Guarded out.
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Go, my Good Lando, go, and stop the People,
Get 'em together to the Palace Gate;
Where all the Senate, early in the Morning,
Will see strict Justice done upon the Traitors.
For thee the State shall give thee due Rewards,
Great as thy Service.
Lan.
I humbly thank your Lordship.
[Exit.
Enter Cosmo attended.
Cosm.
O my Uberto! Are these Horrors true?
Hast thou this Night embowel'd me?
Ransack'd thy Cosmo's Veins,
And found two Villains lurking in my Blood?
Uber.
The blackest Treason that e'er Darkness bred,
And who to hatch these Horrors for the World,
Who to seduce the Noble Youths of Florence,
To draw 'em to so Damn'd a Conjuration,
And bind 'em too with, Oaths, but this Good Man?
This Messenger from Heaven?
Cos.
Now all the Fiends reward him for it.
Away with them, to the Prison bear 'em.
[Exeunt Conspirators Guarded.
Read the Packet ore.
I'll bear it as I'm able, read 'em out.
Uberto
reads.]
The Sum of the Conspiracy—To Rinaldo.
It shall begin with all the Senates Death,
Cosmo, and Uberto too must bleed,
And every Man that stands against the Nobles.
Be ready therefore, Sir, to send your Troops
By Twelve to Morrow Night, and come your self
In Person, if you'd have our Cause succeed.
All, that have Sworn to venture ev'n their Lives
For This Design, subscribe themselves your Servant,
Lorenzo, Adimari, and Valori,
Castrucio, Barbadori, and Bernardo,
Fryer Stephen, Prior of the Cordeliers.
Cos.
Ha! my Uberto! Is not Julio there?
Uber.
He's here my Lord, a Paper by himself.
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Sir, you need only know my Brother's Mind
To Judge of me, who am resolv'd to serve you.
What do you think my Lord?
Cos.
Think, my Uberto;
By my Heart I know not, I'm at a Loss of Thought!
But my Uberto, wonder not at Cosmo,
If thou behold him shed unmanly Tears,
To see his Blood, his Children, his own Bowels,
Conspire the Death of him that gave 'em Being.
Uber.
Oh! no,—I Wonder more You bear it thus,
That your Heart breaks not with th'unusual Sorrow.
Cos.
Not to be mov'd, with such prodigious Suff'rings,
Were not to be a Man, or have his Passions,—
[Pauses.
Yet O Uberto! tho' I own the Man,
M'Ambitious Soul now struggles up to Glory,
Uncommon Glory, and a bright Ambition.
O Brutus! Brutus! thou inspir'st my Soul!
Yes, Since the hard Necessity of State,
And the immortal Pow'rs themselves Decree
There must be Patterns drawn of Noblest Virtue,
Cosmo submits to the eternal Doom.
Uber.
Can I believe there can be such Perfection
Ev'n in an Age so profligate as this?
Cos.
First, As I am their Father, I forgive them,
I pardon, both of them, this black Design;
But, as I am the Father of my Country,
To whom sh' intrusts her Safety, I abhor 'em,
And cast them from my Soul with Detestation,
The nearer to my Blood, the deeper Guilt.
Enter Teraminta.
Nay, I will stand unbowell'd at the Altar!
See something dearer to me, than my Entrails
The Sacrifice to Justice.
Ter.
What Sacrifice? what Victims? Sir, are these?
Which you intend? O ye eternal Pow'rs!
How shall I vent my Sorrows? Oh! my Lord!
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The Death of all that's lovely in the World,
Hear what the Witness of his Soul can say;
The only Evidence, that can, or dare
Appear for your Unhappy, Guiltless Son;
Just Heaven commands you, Virtue, Truth and Justice,
Which you with so much Rigour have ador'd;
Beg you wou'd hear the wretched Teraminta.
Cos.
Cease thy Laments, tho' of Rinaldo's Blood,
Yet more the Wife of my forgotten Son;
Thou shalt be heard.
Ter.
Have you forgot him then?
Have you forgot your self? the Image of you?
The moving Greatness of your Eyes? their Mercy,
Their yielding Goodness! not quite so severe!
Yet still most like, and can you then forget him?
Cos.
Will you proceed?
Ter.
My Lord, I will—know then
After your Son,—your Son, that loves you more,
Than I love him; after our common Julio,
The Wealth o'th' World, unless you rob it of him,
Had long endur'd th'Assaults of the Rebellious,
And still kept fixt to what you had enjoin'd him;
I, as Fate order'd it, was sent back by Rimini,
With my Death menac'd, ev'n before his Eyes,
Doom'd to be Stabb'd, before him, by the Priest,
Unless he yielded not t'oppose the Nobles.
Consider, Sir, Oh! make it your own Case,
Just Wedded, just on th'expected Joys,
So loving too, alas! as we do love,
Granted in haste, in Heat, in Flame of Passion,
He knew not what himself, and so subscrib'd.
Uber.
Go on, now, by my Soul, your Son is Innocent!
Ter.
But now, Sir, now, my Lord, behold a Wonder,
Behold a Miracle to move your Soul!
Tho' in my Arms, her Arms so much he doated on,
His noble Heart struck with the Love of Cosmo,
Of what he promis'd you, 'till then forgot,
Leapt in his Breast, and dash'd him from his Joys.
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What have I done?
No, Teraminta, let us rather perish,
Divide for ever, with whole Seas betwixt us,
Rather, than Sin against so good a Father!
Tho' he before condition'd for your Life,
Yet would not trust the Traitors with the Safety
Of him he call'd the Image of High Heav'n.
Uber.
Oh! Saint-like Virtue of a Wife.
Now all the Arts of Women's Tongues inspire thee,
Inspire thy soft, and tender Soul to move him!
Ter.
On this he rose, Swore by the Pow'rs Divine
He wou'd fetch back the Paper, that he gave,
Or leave his Life among them. Kept his Word,
And came to challenge it—but Oh! too late!
For in the midst of all his Piety,
His strong Perswasions to a swift Repentance,
Lando approach'd, who had before alarm'd
The Wise Uberto, who with all the Guards
Found Julio here, believ'd him like the rest,
And seiz'd him too as Guilty.
Uber.
But by my Hopes, my Soul acquits him now!
Blest be thy Tongue, and blest th'auspicious Pow'rs
That sent thee, O true Pattern of Perfection,
To plead his bleeding Cause! There needs no more!
I see his Father's mov'd!—Behold a Joy,
A watry Comfort rising in his Eyes!
That says, 'tis more than half a Heav'n to hear thee.
Cos.
Haste O Uberto, haste, and send for Julio!
[Exit Uberto.
Ter.
For Julio! Oh! That is a Word too distant!
Say for your Son, for your beloved Son;
The Darling of the World, the Joy of Heav'n,
The Hope of Ages past, and Bliss of those to come,
Your Soul's best Wish, and comfort of your Age.
Enter Uberto and Julio.
Jul.
Oh! Whither shall I run to hide me?
Where shall I lower fall? How shall I lie
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Yet 'tis some Comfort to my wild Despair,
Some Joy in Death, that I may kiss your Feet,
And swear upon them by these streaming Tears;
Black as I am, with all my Guilt upon me,
I never harbour ought against your Person,
Ev'n in the height of my Distraction.
Your Life, my Lord was Sacred, ever Dear,
And ever precious to unhappy Julio.
Cos.
Rise Julio! rise my Son!
Jul.
Alas! I dare not!
I have not Strength enough to see the Majesty,
That I have brav'd. If thus far I aspire,
If on your Knees I hang, and vent my Groans,
It is too much, too much for thousand Lives.
Cos.
I pity thee, my Son, and I forgive thee,
And that thou mayst believe my Mercy true;
I take thee to my Arms.
Jul.
Oh! All you heav'nly Powers!
Ter.
Ah! See, Sir, see against his Will! Behold
He does Obey, tho' he wou'd chuse to kneel!
Now by my hopes of Mercy, he's so lost,
His Heart's so full, brimful of Tenderness,
The Sense of what you've done, has struck him Speechless.
Nor can he thank you now but with his Tears.
Cos.
My dear Uberto, let me now intreat thee,
Withdraw a while with gentle Teraminta,
And leave us to our selves,
Ter.
Ah! Sir, I fear you now!
Nor can I leave you, with the humble Julio;
Unless you promise me you will not chide,
Nor fall again to Anger; Do not, Sir,
Do not upbraid his Soft and Melting Temper
With what is past. Behold he Sighs again!
My Heart forebodes a Storm, I know not why:
But say, my Lord, give me your Godlike Word:
You'll not be cruel, I'll not trust my Heart;
Howe'er it leaps, and fills me with new Horror.
Cos.
I promise thee.
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I thank you, Sir;
Ev'n from my Soul, I thank you for this Goodness,
The great, good, gracious Pow'rs reward, and bless you!
Ah! Julio! Ah! my Soul's perpetual Pleasure!
I fear I leave thee with too hard a Usurer;—
But I perforce must trust him.—O Farewel!
[Exit with Uberto.
Cos.
Well, Julio, Speak,—How is it with thee now?
I wou'd attend; a while, this mighty Motion,
Wait till the Tempest is quite over-blown,
That I might take thee in the Calm of Nature,
Thy Agony of Soul quite hush'd, and still.
Speak then, and tell me, Oh! my best belov'd!
My Son, my Julio, Is all well again?
Jul.
So well, that I cou'd wish to die this Moment;
For that I must, my Virtue, and my Reason
At once assure me.
That were, indeed, to make you Reparation,
And in Your Justice, blot out my Disgrace;
And that for Julio too wou'd be most Happy.
Cos.
How's that, my Son, wou'd Death for thee be Happy?
Jul.
Most certainly, for in my Grave, I 'scape
All those Affronts, which I in Life must look for,
All those Reproaches, which the Eyes, and Fingers,
And Tongues of Florence daily will cast on me.
From whom, to a Soul so sensible as mine
Each single Scorn wou'd be far worse, than Death.
To hear the pointing People mark me out:
That, that is he, that with the Sons of Riot,
Conspir'd against his Father and his Country!
Oh! Heaven! I cannot bear th'opprobrious Thought!
Here, here, my Lord, here sheath your Vengeful Dagger!
Oh! By a speedy Death from your dear Hand,
Preserve your Son, preserve the wretched Julio!
From Stings of Conscience; from Racks of Infamy,
That must for ever Torture my Remembrance;
By day pursue me, haunt me in the Night,
Casting my blotted Honour in my Way,
Where-e'er my Melancholy Thoughts shall guide me.
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But is not Death a very dreadful thing?
Jul.
Not to a Mind resolv'd; to me, Sir,
It seems as Natural, as to be Born.
Yes, Sir, I call th'offended Powers to Witness,
Julio dares die, if you have so decreed,
To make your Justice famous through the World.
Cos.
Alas! my Julio! fain I would preserve thee,
The Glory, and the Comfort of my Age!
Jul.
Impossible! Oh! Sir, it is impossible!
Not but your Pow'r perhaps might set me free;
But then both You and all the Medici
Must fall a Sacrifice to Changing Florence,
Florence, instable as the Wind, and Seas!
And only to be fixt by Cosmo's Virtue.
Cos.
Oh! Julio! Thou absolute Young Man!
Thou flattering Mirror of thy Fathers Image,
Where I behold my self to such Advantage!
Thou perfect Glory of the Medici,
Let me endear thee once more to my Bosome.
Here press thee Close, close to my sad Heart,
Groan an eternal Farwel to thy Soul;
Instead of Tears, weep Blood if possible,
Blood! the Heart Blood of Cosmo on his Child!
For thou must die, my Julio, die my Son!
I swear that Fate has doom'd thee to the Grave.
The violated Genius of thy Country,
Rears his sad Head, and passes Sentence on thee.
This Morning Sun, that lights my Sorrows on
To the Tribunal of this horrid Vengeance,
Shall never see thee more.
Jul.
Alas! my Lord!
Why are you mov'd thus? Why am I worth your Sorrows?
Why should the godlike Cosmo shake to doom me?
Why all these Trappings to a Traitor's Hearse?
The Fates will have it so.
Cos.
They will my Julio!—
Nay Heav'n and Earth combine to have it so.
Yes, Julio, mark me,—the deeper that I search,
My harrass'd Soul returns the more confirm'd.
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Than her Divisions, and domestic Jarrs,
That hitherto have circumscrib'd her Glory,
And cramp'd it up into a narrow Compass,
Those, by Proscriptions Sprung from private Hate,
Have robb'd her of Ten thousands of her Children,
And Scatter'd them abroad thro' all the World,
Teaching our Foes our Virtues.
The Factions of the Nobles, and Plebeians,
Alternately Victorious, have made pale Florence
For rolling Ages look like Sylla's days,
She hourly views the Slaughter of her Sons
To stop this Ruin, and my Country save.
Methinks I see the very Hand of Heav'n
Like a Machine now hurle me to thy Death.
It seems as if that Fate had pre-ordain'd it,
To fix the reeling Spirits of this People,
By giving both my Sons up to the Ax.
Jul.
The Ax! Oh! Heav'n! Then must I fall so basely?
What, shall I perish by the common Hang-man?
Cos.
If thou deny me this, thou giv'st me nothing.
Yes, Julio, since the Heav'ns have so decreed
That I must lose thee;—I will take th'Advantage
Of thy important Fate; cement our Flaws,
And heal our wounded Freedom with thy Blood.
I will ascend my self the sad Tribunal,
And sit upon my Sons; on thee my Julio.
Behold thee suffer all the Shame of Death;
The Hang-man's Lashes, Bleed before the People,
Then in the midst of this bright dawn of Youth,
See thy Head sever'd by the Common Ax,
Without a Groan, without a pitying Tear;
Yes if my Virtue hold me to my Purpose,
Jul.
Scourg'd like a Vulgar, Rascal Criminal!
But I deserve all!—yet here I fail!
The Image of this Suffering quite Unmans me,
Nor can I longer stop the gushing Tears.
Oh! Sir! Oh! Cosmo! Must I call you Father,
Yet have no Token of your Tenderness?
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Can you resolve?—Oh! all the Extremity,
Of Cruel Rigour!—to behold me too!—
Ah! Sir! Why shou'd you make my Heart suspect,
That all your late Compassion was dissembl'd?
How can I think that you did ever love me?
Cos.
Why Felons every Day die unconcern'd;
It is thy Shame, thy publick Infamy,
Thy most peculiar Punishment must fix
My Justice, and in that this State, and People,
Aw'd by this Terror from their veering Temper.
Yet think I love thee, by my present Passion,
By these unmanly Tears; these Earthquakes here;
These Sighs, that twitch the very Strings of Life!—
Think that no other Cause on Earth cou'd move me
To Tremble thus, to Sob to shed a Tear.
Nor shake my solid Virtue from its Point,
But Julio's Death!—Julio the Joy of Cosmo,
His Soul, and dearer far, than Life it self,
By the just Pow'rs, I feel thy Pangs, and Throbs,
Thy Pains of Body, Agonies of Soul,
In a most exquisite Degree, Oh!—
[Pauses.
I own thy Suff'rings ought to unman me thus,
To make me throw my Body on the Ground,
To tear my Hair, and curse the Cruel Fates
That force a Father thus to dragg his Bowels.
Jul.
Oh! Rise thou violated Majesty,
Rise from the Earth, or I shall begg those Fates,
Which you wou'd Curse, to bolt me to the Centre.
I now submit to all your threatn'd Vengeance,
And own the sad Necessity, compells it,
Come forth ye Executioners of Justice,
Come all ye Slaves, ye common Hang-men come,
Come strip me bare, unrobe me in his Sight,
And lash me till I bleed; whip me like Furies,
And when you've Scourg'd me till I Foam, and Fall,
For want of Spirits groveling in the Dust,
Then take my Head, and give it his Revenge;
By the just Pow'rs, I greedily resign it.
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No more—but think when next we meet
At a more awful Distance, think, my Son,
The Pangs thou giv'st thy wretched Father's Soul,
Are greater far to hide my raging Pain,
Than if I cou'd have Vent in raving Cries,
And fall upon thy Neck, and curse my Fortune.
Jul.
No more, my Lord, your Julio is prepar'd,
Ready to give his Life up to your Justice.
Cos.
Why then no more, my Son.—but—Oh—Farewel!
Eternally Farewel!
Th'immortal Pow'rs will sure preserve a Room,
A Throne for thee above,—one last Embrace.—
What is it makes thy Eyes thus Swim again?
Jul.
I had forgot,—be good to Teraminta,
When I am Ashes.—
Cos.
Leave her to my Care.
See her thou must not, for thou canst not bear it.
Oh! for one more! this pull, this Tug of Heartstrings!
Farewel for ever.
Jul.
O! Cosmo! Oh! my Father!
Cos.
Canst thou not say Farewel?
Jul.
Farewel for ever!
Cos.
For ever then.—But Oh my Tears run ore!
Groans choak my Words, and I can Speak no more!
[Exeunt.
The End of the Fourth Act.
| The patriot, or the Italian Conspiracy | |