University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I

A Garden.
Enter Adelaid and Wirtemberg.
Adel.
Why do you thus perplex yourself and me?
Oft has my Tongue declar'd the fix'd Aversion,
Which my Soul bears to Marriage: yet you still
With vain Sollicitations will pursue me.
But it is your Sex's Nature, to return
Love with Disdain, and Hate with Love repay.

Wirtemb.
Do you then hate me? cruel Adelaid!
How hard must be the Ice about your Heart,
If Constancy, like mine, wants Power to thaw it!
Convinc'd already of my passion's Truth,
What other Means is left to win upon you?
No Toils would I refuse, no Dangers shun,
That Adelaid and Honour should present.

Adel.
Oh how ungrateful am I forc'd t'appear.
[Aside.
Your great Deserts, brave Prince! m'admiring Soul
Long since confest; but Love, my Lord! you know,
Is not th'Effect of Reason, or of Will.
Few feel that Passion's Force, because they chuse it,
And fewer yet, when it becomes their Duty.
Condemn not then my want of Sensibility;
Since 'tis resistless Fate that governs all,
And leaves no Power in me.

Wirtemb.
Oh lovely Sophister!
Well have you learn'd the Art, with Speech most soft,
To veil th'inhuman Meaning couch'd within,
This seeming Pity; but it will not do,
Ill treated Love has penetrating Eyes,
And sees thro' all the winding Artifices
Made use on to deceive him.

Adel.
Heaven! I'm betray'd,
My Love, and my Despair laid open to him.
[Aside.
Of what am I accus'd?

Wirtemb.
That Term's too harsh:
And would ill-suit the Mouth of an Adorer.
But think not that I ever can believe
A Soul like yours was form'd a Foe to Love.
No, 'tis impossible that Heaven of Beauty,
Should be created for itself alone,
Some happier, tho' perhaps less faithful Man,
Will one Day reap those Joys which I'm deny'd.

Adel.
How much you wrong me, soon shall my Conduct prove,
For I have sworn, and now again confirm it
By every listning Saint, and guardian Angel,
For ever to forsake this busy World,
And in a Cloyster's silent, safe Recess
Pass the Remainder of my Days, secure
From all the Wiles of false undoing Man:
No more to hear th'Inchantment of their Praises,
No more take Pride in their deceitful Homage,
Paid only to seduce us into Slavery.
But in my solitary Refuge blest,
With Pity think on those, who sell their Peace,
For the vain Triumph of a short-liv'd Passion.

Wirtemb.
Ha, Adelaid! by Heaven the pointed Fires
That sparkle in your Eyes, while even repeating
This strange Resolve, and the unusual Hurry
Which ruffles your whole Form, has rouz'd a Thought
More shocking to me than a thousand Deaths.
Say, can Emotions such as these proceed
From cool Reserve, or meer dislike of Marriage?
Are they not rather Symptoms you have felt,
To your Cost felt, the Passion you condemn?

Adel.
What have I said! [Aside.]
Prince, you presume too far
To censure Thoughts is Heaven's prerogative.
Besides, of this be certain, that whate'er mine are,
They ne'er will turn in favour of the Man,
Whose jealous Curiosity would fathom
What Suits not with my Pleasure to reveal.

[Exit.]
Wirtemb.
How vast a Privilege has Beauty!
They say I'm rash, impatient of Affronts,
And prone to Anger for each petty flight;
Yet here I'm tame as suffering Infancy.

Enter Waldec.
Wald.
I wonder that Ridolpho stays,
I thought to have met him—Ha! Duke Wirtemberg.

Wirtemb.
Yes, what remains of him you call'd your Friend:
For all that made me worthy of that Name,
Or even of Man, I think, is blasted in me.
Either I dreamt, or you encourag'd Hope,
With an Assurance Adelaid was kind,
And would no more reject my Vows of Love.

Wald.
'Tis hard, my Lord! t'account for Women's Humours:
To Day they're this, to morrow the Reverse;
Like the still-veering Wind, in nothing constant
But in Inconstancy. Interest, indeed,
Sometimes confines, and guides th'exterior Part,
But then, the giddy Mind will have its Swing,
And soar beyond all Bounds.

Wirtemb.
Yet Adelaid
Seems different from her Sex, and changes not
From that fix'd Haughtiness, which, but for you,
At first had nipp'd my Wishes in their Bud.
My Soul confesses that you meant me well,
But fatal to my Peace th'Event has prov'd.
Desire, when young, is easily supprest;
But cherish'd by the Sun of warm Encouragement,
Becomes too strong, and potent for Controul:
Nor yields but to Despair, the worst of Passions.

Wald.
May not this Tempest, by an artful Breath,
Be turn'd on him I hate, I'll try at least.
[Aside.
Thus often are our best Endeavours crost,
By some ill-bodeing Star. I fear, my Lord!
The cruel Cause that ruins your Designs,
Is not less baneful to my Sister's Glory.
Somewhat I've lately heard that much disturb me,
Tho' loth I am to speak it.

Wirtemb.
Take heed, I warn thee.
If ought to her Dishonour thou wouldst utter,
'Tis not the Name of Brother should protect thee
From the just Rage of a defending Lover.
Hard-hearted as she is, not Death try'd Spirits
Are more refin'd; nor those Ætherial Beings,
Which, yet unclad in Flesh, ne'er knew to sin,
Boast purer Innocence than Adelaid.

Wald.
He kindles to my wish. [Aside]
I thought so too;
But where's the Virtue, may not be corrupted,
When strong Temptations press? Angels themselves
Have yielded to their Force; then how should Woman,
The frailest of this frail Creation, hope
To stem the dangerous Tide of proffer'd Pleasures?

Wirtemb.
Where is the Villain dare attempt her Honour,
Or even with an unchast Desire prophane
So bright a Character?

Wald.
There lies my Grief
That he's by much too great for Punishment.

Wirtemb.
Give me to know him, and by Heaven I swear,
No Pow'r shall shield him from my just Revenge:
Not even imperial Favour be his Guard;
But in the Emperor's Sight I'd seize the Slave,
And drag him to his Fate.

Wald.
Alass, my Lord!
With how much Ease are the Sincere deceiv'd,
Our good Opinion often dimns our Reason,
And will not let us see the plainest Truths:
Else you might guess, that in so nice a Point,
I from no Subject would have tamely born
The Wrong.

Wirtemb.
Ha Count! what said you? no Subject?
What is't I feel?—But sure it cannot be,
That Frederick can so greatly derogate,
From those strict Rules of Piety and Virtue
He with such warmth professes, and rewards
The Practice of in others. Oh speak again,
And spare my Soul the Guilt of false Surmise.

Wald.
Would th'Undoer of my Sister's Honour
Had any Name but His; 'twould not be Words,
But Deeds should speak the just Resentment here.
You've doubtless heard that e're his Hopes were rais'd
To the Imperial Throne, or richer Offers,
Tempted Ambition in the Saxon Princess,
The Charms of Adelaid engag'd his Heart.

Wirtemb.
Never, by Heaven!

Wald.
It may be possible;
For as he meant not fair, he made no Show
In publick of his Love. Tho' oft they met,
And, as I since have been inform'd, were lavish
Of mutual Vows and solemn Protestations.

Wirtemb.
How brook'd she then his Marriage?

Wald.
As Women do,
Who for such Ills have no Relief but Tears.
Yet did her natural Pride a while support her,
And Grief lay hid beneath the Mask of Hate.
'Twas then I hop'd, your Wishes would succeed
But his Arrival, and renew'd Addresses
Marrs all again; o'erwhelm'd in Tenderness,
No more she views him with resentful Eyes,
No more regrets her Sufferings, or her Wrongs,
But yields her Fame a Prey to his Delusions.

Wirtemb.
Death and Distraction! Does he then see her?

Wald.
So am I told by one who shares her Secrets,
And fears for the Event.

Wirtemb.
Name it no more.
A thousand Furies are at at work within me,
Prompting to Mischiefs, would amaze the World.
Down, Devil, down!—Oh let me not forget
That Frederick's my Emperor; and but for this,
Perhaps unvoluntary Crime, the best,
And bravest that e'er grac'd th'Imperial Throne.
Curse on the Thought! would he were otherwise,
That by no Precepts aw'd, I might revenge
My injur'd Love, and pierce a Tyrant's Heart.

[Ex.
Wald.
What Slaves are they whose free-born Souls are fetter'd
With that Thing call'd Conscience!—Well Frederick!
By this Contrivance, I trust, thou hast, however,
One Friend the less to aid or to revenge thee.
The Odium cast upon my Sister's Fame
May easily be wip'd off, when thou'rt no more,
And all succeed according to my Wish.
But he appears, and fawning Anhalt with him;
Earnest they seem in Talk, I'll leave the Place.

Fred.
Is not that Waldec?

[As he is going out, Enter Frederick and Anhalt.
Anh.
The same, my gracious Lord!

Fred.
Stay, Count! Saw you of late Duke Wirtemberg?

Wald.
He parted hence, great Sir, even now.

Fred.
We met him too, and on his lowring Brow
Reads Marks of Discontent which much surprize us.
Know you the Cause?

Wald.
Not I, Imperial Sir!
Tho' I discern'd strange Marks of Grief about him,
And from long Intimacy took the Freedom,
To ask the Motive, I no sooner urg'd
The Question to him, than he shot away
As if disdaining Converse.

Fred.
I should lament
His Troubles greatly, if on Reason founded;
But infinitely more so brave a Spirit,
Should yield himself a Prey to meer Ideas,
And unsubstantial Woes.

Enter Anspach and Baden.
Ansp.
Oh Horror! Horror!

Bad.
Monstrous Cruelty!

Fred.
The meaning, Princes,
Of these Exclamations?

Ansp.
Unhappy Ermand.

Bad.
In yonder Grove, breathless and pale he lies,
A cruel Dagger in his Bosom plung'd:
Two twining Serpents on the Hast engrav'd,
Ridolpho's Crest declare the Murderer plain.

Wald.
Ha!

Fred.
Kill'd by Ridolpho!

Ansp.
Dread Sir, this Moment:
For yet the panting Heart throws from its Sluice
The unconcealing Blood in reeking Streams
Still bubbling as they flow.

Fred.
Spoke he not to you?

Ansp.
E'er we approach'd, the Soul had taken Wing,
And left the Reasons of his Fate untold.

Fred.
To what a Height Impiety arrives,
When Man his Maker's Image dares efface,
Stamp'd on his Fellow Creature. War, indeed,
When for the Sake of Justice wag'd, absolves
The Crime, which else is most unnatural.
Yet do the Brave regret the dire Compulsion,
That stains their Hands with Blood.

Wald.
My Royal Lord!
As far as Man can of Man's Heart be Judge,
I dare avouch Ridolpho's innocent,
And if (which yet cannot be plainly prov'd)
Ermand by him met this untimely Fate.
Some sudden Fury must have seiz'd his Senses
In which the purer Mind had nought to do.

Fred.
Waldec, he is your Uncle's Deputy,
And we excuse your Zeal in his Behalf;
But from himself must have some better Reasons,
E'er he'll be justify'd in our Opinion.
Let him be found, and brought into our Presence.

Bad.
My Lord! He's here.

Enter Ridolpho.
Fred.
How happens it, Ridolpho,
A Man so fam'd for Skill in Politicks,
Thus far forgets the Character he bears,
To fall to that of Murderer and Assassin?
Within our Hearing, almost within our Sight,
T'assault and rob of Life our menial Servant.

Rid.
Ermand, you mean, I not deny the Deed,
But tho' a Subject born of Mentz, I cannot
By any other Pow'r be try'd; such Reverence
I bear to your high Station, that uncompell'd,
I ask Forgiveness for th'unmeant Affront,
Which only the most stinging Provocations
Had urg'd me to commit.

Fred.
The Guilty never want
Excuses to alleviate their Misdeeds:
But Heaven, to whose all piercing Eyes lie open
The most obscure Recesses of the Heart,
Is not to be deceiv'd by specious Shews,
And ne'er forgets the Murderer in its wrath;
Tho' ill would it become thy Master's Function,
If Crimes, like this, escape his partial Justice.

Rid.
Yet Mercy is Heaven's darling Attribute,
And chiefly ought by him to be remember'd,
Who is both Priest and Prince, But to his Sentence,
Howe'er severe, I shall submit myself.

Fred.
Haste to receive it!—From my sight, away!
Who sins, presuming pardon, doubly sins,
And scarce leaves room for future Penitence.
No farther Business claims your presence here:
This Night depart our Court, and be assur'd
That, but no Motive can prevail upon me
T'infringe another's Right, thou should'st not thus
Unpunish'd pass. Warn'd too by this Example,
Mentz may expect, that the same strict Observance
Will be from him exacted. Hide thy Hands,
Yet red with Guilt of unoffending Blood,
And trembling think the ever-ruling Power
Shall mark thee out for terrible Revenge;
While awful Heaven defers the Stroke of Fate,
The Villain sins secure, with Pride elate,
And with false Bravery mocks a future State;
At length, when Justice can forbear no more,
When Light'nings flash, and vengeful Thunders roar,
The self-convicted, guilt-astonish'd Slave,
By Fear prevents the Blow, and shrinks into the Grave.

[Exeunt all but Rid. and Wald.
Wald.
Mark'd you that Menace?

Rid.
Yes, and believe it too,
The Death of Ermand gives a fair pretence
To break in open War upon your Uncle,
If he not buys his Peace with Restitution
Of all those Territories he receiv'd,
From the late Emperors, Charles and Wenceslaus.

Wald.
Yet you did well to stop the Babler's Mouth:
Had he accus'd us all had still been worse.

Rid.
I found his Soul unfit to comprehend
The Reasons I alledg'd, and doubting much,
If he'd conceal what he refus'd to act,
Just as I took my Leave, pretending Friendship,
One Arm I threw about his Neck; mean Time,
The other struck my Dagger through his Heart,
And lock'd it to eternal Secresy.
Go, Wretch! said I, and in the other World
Receive thy Virtue's triumph, or missing it,
Mourn what thou hast lost on Earth.

Wald.
'Twas nobly thought.
But to what Stratagem have we now Recourse?
A few Hours space takes you from Laenstine,
And Frederick with to Morrow's Dawn sets out
For Frankfort: Say, how shall we now proceed?
Or what remains to stop his farther Progress?

Rid.
Why, nothing; every Star is bent against us
Fortune and Fame are proud to wait the Nod
Of this exalted Man; 'tis vain to strive
When Destiny opposes: Nor can Mentz
Expect more from us than our Power can reach.

Wald.
Yet for one Disappointment ought we not
Poorly to yield our Hopes and our Endeavours.
All have not Souls like Ermand's, and who knows,
But even among his Guards we might find some
Not proof to Bribes.

Rid.
'Tis most impossible.
Are they not Natives all of Lunenburgh,
Of Zell or Brunswick! in whom the Love of Frederick
So far prevails, they would all lose their Blood
To save one drop of his.

Wald.
Yet let us think:
Something within me seems to speak Success.
This Brain has not been idle, tho' as yet
No more than half-form'd Schemes it has produc'd,
Which Time and your Advice can only ripen.
But I'd forgot to tell you how I wrought
The jealous Wirtemberg's impatient Temper
To Rage; which, at this Juncture, may contribute
Perhaps, more than we are yet aware of,
To our purpose. Within I will inform you.
Let us not then, brave Friend, ignobly quit,
What we at first so boldly undertook,
Nor in the Cause with slow Indifference move,
Efforts pursu'd, alone a Genius prove.
Cæsar, when big with hopes of Regal Sway,
Thro' Toils and Disappointments forc'd his Way:
He won and lost, resolv'd, and won again;
'Twas Strength of Resolution made him reign.