University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

The Outward Apartment in the Womens Tent. A Guard of Eunuchs.
Enter Kisler Aga.
K. A.
Tis as I thought: Our Master is betray'd.
Whoever knew a Renegade sincere?
This Dog's a Christian still!

Enter Amasie.
Ama.
The Victim's prepar'd.
If Lust holds on her Course, and revels yet
In the hot Veins of rash, luxurious Youth,
This Christian Heroine, this second Lucrece,
In Mahomet shall find another Tarquin,
As cruel and remorseless as the first.
If I shou'd fail in my Attempt to Night,
And Scanderbeg survive—Althea ravish'd—
He'll wish himself, I had succeeded better.
(Aside.
Dismiss your useless Train of prying Slaves;
I've Business that requires your Ear alone.
(Exeunt Eunuchs.
A Grecian Chief, who owns our Master's Cause,
Must be admitted to the Captive Princess.
'Tis of Importance to the Sultan's Service,
That he shou'd enter and depart unknown:
I'll introduce him, while you watch without
That none approach to give him Interruption.

Aga.
This I conceive; but why he mov'd the Lady
To the remotest Part of the Pavilion
I cannot comprehend.

(Aside.
Ama.
You know your Duty;
Your Life shall answer for the least Neglect.

Aga.
I shall take Care— (Exit Amasie.)
to ruin thee, thou Traytor.

SCENE II.

Another Apartment; Stage darken'd; Table and Lamp.
Althea discovered.
Al.
Is this a Time and Place for virtuous Love?
This is the Wanton's Hour: Now she forsakes
Her Home, and, hid in Darkness, watches for her Prey:
The Soul, whom Heav'n abhors, falls in her Snares;
And pierc'd with Guilt, as with an Arrow dies.
Yon sickly Lamp, that glimmers thro' my Tears,
Faintly contending with prevailing Darkness,
Spreads o'er the Place a melancholy Gloom,
That sooths the joyless Temper of my Mind.
So a pale Meteor's dull and beamless Flame
To the bewilder'd Traveller appears,
And adds new Horrors to the cheerless Night.
—Is Error then the Lot of all Mankind?
It is, it is—for Scanderbeg is fallen.—
O! what cou'd move him to the rash Attempt?
If he shou'd perish, as the Danger's great,
How will th' insulting Infidels rejoice?
How will the Foe, with scornful Triumph, sing,
As a Fool dies, so died this mighty Chief;
His Hands unbound, no Fetters on his Feet,
But as an Ideot by his Folly falls,
So fell the Champion of the Christian Cause.
Enter Mahomet drest like Scanderbeg, fast'ning the door on the Inside.
He's come, and all my Sorrows are compleat.
Are you pursued?—O my prophetick Fears!—
If undiscover'd you have enter'd here,
This Caution's needless; if betray'd, in vain.

Ma.
Of such a Prize who can be too secure?

Al.
'Tis not his Voice—defend me, O defend me,
All gracious Heaven!

Ma.
Dost thou not know me Princess?

Al.
Alas! too well! (Aside.)
Sure you've mistook your way,
Or came perchance to seek some other here;
Howe'er that be, permit me to retire.

Ma.
Mistaken Fair; or is this Ign'rance feign'd?
'Tis you alone I seek. Impetuous Love,
That will not be resisted, brought me here
To lay my Life and Fortune at your Feet.

Al.
Then I'm betray'd, basely betray'd; just Heaven!
Expos'd, perhaps devoted to a Ruin,
From which the Grave itself is no Retreat,
And Time can ne'er repair—Be gracious, Sir,
To an unhappy Maid!—Or I'm deceiv'd,
Or you, my Lord, were pleas'd to mention Love;
Of that, alas! I am forbid to hear;
Compassion better suits my humble State,
That I intreat; have Pity on me, Prince,
Dispel my Fears, and send me from your Presence.

Ma.
Grant what you ask; I need Compassion too:
Your Beauty's necessary to my Peace:
Then yield, in Pity to yourself and me,
What else I'll take by Force: Consent to make me
Happy, and in Return, when Time shall give
The Scepter to my Hand, I'll make thee Queen
Of half the conquer'd Globe.

Al.
Know, Impious Prince!
If one loose Thought wou'd buy the whole, I'd Scorn
It at that Price.

Ma.
Then rifled and abandon'd,
Live thou the Scorn both of the World and me.
You have you Choice; I came not here to talk.

Al.
O! what were all my former Woes to this?
Under the Pain of Absence, hard Captivity
And my late Fears, Patience and Fortitude
Were my Support; Patience and Fortitude
Are useless now. Shame and Dishonour are
Not to be born. Father! Aranthes! haste,
And like Virginius preserve your Daughter.
Come Castriot, come, Althea calls thee now
To certain Death, to save her from Pollution.

Ma.
Call louder yet; your Idols do not hear.

Al.
Tho' none shou'd hear, yet Sorrow must complain.

Ma.
Your moving softness fans my am'rous Flame—
No Help can reach thee—All thy Friends are absent;
Wisely comply, and make a Friend of me.

Al.
All are not absent; he whose Presence fills
Both Heaven and Earth; he, he is with me still;
Sees my Distress, numbers my flowing Tears,
And understands the Voice of my Complainings,
Tho' Sorrow drowns my Speech.

Ma.
I'll wait no longer;
Nor ask again for that I've Power to take.
Now you may strive, as I have beg'd, in vain.

Al.
O thou, whose Hand sustains the whole Creation;
Who cloth'st the Woods, the Vallies and the Fields;
Who hear'st the hungry Lion, when he roars;
And feed'st the Eagle on the Mountain's Top;
Shut not thine Ear—turn not away thy Face;
Be not as one far off, when Danger's near;
Or like an absent Friend to the distress'd—
Assist me, save me—only thou canst save me—
O let me not invoke thy Aid in vain.

Am.
(Without.)
Force, force an Entrance.

Ma.
Ha! who dares do this?

[The Door burst open.
Enter Amurath, Visier, Kisler Aga and Guards.
Ma.
Sham'd and prevented! O my cursed Fortune!

Al.
My Prayers are hear'd; let Virtue ne'er dispair.

Vis.
Guard well the Passage.

K. Aga.
Who secures his Sword?

Vis.
Scanderbeg yeild! thou can'st not hope t'escape.

Am.
To fall so meanly after all thy Wars—
Well may'st thou hide thy Face.

Vis.
Blinded by Love,
My Lord, he miss'd his Way.

Am.
True, Osmyn, true:
That poor Excuse for Madness, Vice and Folly,
Is all this mighty Hero has to plead.
—A fair Account of Life and Honour lost.
I hoped not Triumph—Prophet, 'tis too much—
I ask'd but Vengeance—Bring him to my Tent.
When Mirth declining calls for something new,
We'll think upon the manner of his Death.

Ma.
Away, you Dogs! Confusion, Death and Hell!

[Exit.
Al.
They stand agast. Deliverance waits the just,
But short's the Triumph of deceitful Men.
Turn'd on themselves, their own Devices cover
Them with Shame. (Aside.)


[Exit.
Vis.
I'm lost in Admiration!
It is the Prince Mahomet.

Am.
Wonder, Rage
And Disappointment drive me to Distraction.
Kisler Aga, expect to answer this.

K. Aga.
Let not my Lord condemn his Slave unheard.
Amasie, whom I ever thought a Villain,
Going this Evening to the captive Princess;
I follow'd unperceiv'd, and so dispos'd me
As to o'er hear him: who with many Oaths,
Assur'd Althea, Scanderbeg was come;
Conceal'd by Night, and in his Faith secure,
Once more to see her and repeat his Vows.
Of this I thought myself in Duty bound
T'inform my Royal Master.

Am.
You are clear.

K. Aga.
The Caution us'd to introduce the Prince,
Seem'd to confirm the Truth of what I heard.

Am.
Leave us—Enough; your Conduct merits Praise.

[Exit K. Aga.
Vis.
Th' affrighted Fair is fled to her Apartment.

Am.
Degenerate Boy? thou art my Witness, Allah,
Not so I spent my Youth, and won his Mother;
Tho' much I lov'd, and long I sigh'd in vain.
'Tis vile and base to do a private Wrong:
When Kings, as Kings, do ill; the Office then
Must justify the Man.

Vis.
A Believing Monarch,
Obedient to the Messenger of Heaven,
Can never err.

Am.
Our Prophet, by the Sword,
First taught the stubborn Arabs to believe,
And writ his Laws in Blood.

Vis.
He knew Mankind.
Nay, yet the Priests of all Religions teach,
Whate'er is done to propagate the Faith,
Must from its End, be good.

Am.
Thus do I stand
Acquitted to myself; and Scanderbeg,
Tho' by Assassination, justly falls.
To Morrow's Sun shall shine for me alone.
Yet, O! my faithful Osmin, all's not well:
I know not how, my Spirits kindle not
As they were wont, when Glory was in View.
True, I rejoice; and yet, methinks, my Joy
Is like the Mirth wrung from a Man in Pain.

Vis.
Guard, righteous Heaven, thy great Vicegerent's Health.

Am.
The Body simpathizes with the Mind;
As that with what we love. My Languor may
Be the Effect of my Hellena's Grief;
I live in her. My Pleasures are improv'd,
My Pains forgot, when I behold her Face;
The tend'rest, fondest, most belov'd of Children.

Vis.
O! what has happen'd, Sir?

Am.
This Evening, Osmin,
When I commanded her to love Amasie;
And look upon him, as her future Lord,
An ashy Paleness spread o'er all her Face,
And gushing Tears bespoke her strong Aversion:
But when t'inhance his Merit I disclosed
The purpos'd Murther of his native Prince;
Had I pronounc'd the Sentence of her Death,
Sure less had been her Terror and Surprize.
Kneeling, she call'd on Heav'n and Earth to witness
Her utter Detestation of the Fact,
And everlasting Hatred of Amasie,
His Person and Design.

Vis.
Unhappy Princess!
To be compell'd to marry where she hates.

Am.
O! she abhors him, loaths his very Name;
Yet still her filial Piety prevail'd;
She hung upon my Neck; pray'd for my Life,
My Honour, my Success; and took her leave
In such endearing Strains, as if she never
Had been to fee me more. Her moving Softness
Melted my old tough Heart—I kiss'd her—sigh'd,
And wept as fast as she. Our mingled Tears
Together flow'd down my shrunk wither'd Cheeks,
And trickled from my Beard—O! shou'd my Thirst
Of Vengeance kill my Child; shou'd she t'avoid
Amasie, fly to Death—what cou'd support me?

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Wood, thro' which is seen the Christian Camp.
Enter Hellena and Cleora in Mens Apparel.
Cle.
Where are we Princess! whither will you wander?

Hel.
We've gain'd the utmost Summit of the Mountain.
I hear the neigh of Horses—See'st thou not
Those Lights that glimmer thro' the Trees, Cleora?
The Christain Camp's before us.

Cle.
Righteous Allah! the Christian Camp!—

Hel.
'Tis thither I am bound.

Cle.
Distraction!

Hel.
I am determined.

Cle.
Hear me, Princess!
Once take the Counsel of your faithful Slave,
And yet return before our Flight be known.

Hel.
O! no, Cleora! I must ne'er return.

Cle.
Then in your Father's Empire let us seek
Some far remote and unfrequented Village;
Where thus disguis'd, you may remain unknown
To all, but me; 'till Death shall end your Sorrows.
Why are you come to find new Dangers here?
Alas! I thought you only fled Amasie.

Hel.
Why shou'd I fly from him? in his Despite
I cou'd have died, ev'n in my Father's Arms.
Death, ever at my Call, had been a sure
Defence from his more loath'd Embraces. Gentle Maid,
Think it not hard, that I've conceal'd from thee
My real Intention, 'till 'twas past thy Power,
Had'st thou the Inclination to prevent it.

Cle.
Break, break my Heart, for I've liv'd too long,
Since I'm suspected by my Royal Mistress.

Hel.
I fear'd thy fond Affection wou'd have weigh'd
Each Danger with too scrupulous a Hand.
I know 'twill strike thee with the last Amazement
To hear I've left the Bosom of a Father,
How e'er severe to others kind to me,
To seek his mortal Foe.

Cle.
Your Reason's lost.

Hel.
No; I remember well the Terrors past,
And count on those to come; both worse than Death.
Conscious of my weak Sex, with all its Fears,
To pass by Night thro' Camps of hostile Men,
And urge the Presence of that awful Prince,
My Soul in secret has so long ador'd—
When I shall see him, shou'd his piercing Eye
Trace me thro' my Disguise!—O my Cleora!
Will not my falt'ring Tongue, my crimson Cheeks,
My panting Heart and trembling Limbs betray me?
What think'st thou? Say; shall I not die with Shame
When I wou'd speak, and leave my Tale untold.

Cle.
These and a Thousand Difficulties more
Oppose your Purpose; then in Time retire.

Hel.
No more; away; my Resolutions fixt.
The Glory and the Danger's both before me,
And both are mine—you were necessary
To my Escape—That's past—'Tis true indeed,
Your Service has by far excell'd my Bounty:
Here take these Jewels, and go seek thy Safety;
I can pursue my Purpose by myself.

Enter Paulinus, with a Guard; who come from the farther Part of the Stage to the Front and stand listening for some Time;
Cle.
O how have I deserv'd this cruel Usage?
If I've discover'd any Signs of Fear,
'Twas never for myself—Go where you please,
I'll follow you to Death.

Hei.
Kind, faithful Maid—
Wherefore shou'd I involve thee in my Ruin?

Cle.
'Tis Ruin to forsake you.

Hel.
Mine is certain;
Thou may'st have many happy Years to come.

Pau.
Stand, there.—Who are you?—Answer to the Guard.

Hel.
Fatal Surprize! what must we answer?

Cle.
Friends.

Pau.
Make it appear—this Instant—Give the Word.
—Silent—Some Spies sent from the Sultan's Camp.
Lest favour'd by the Darkness of the Night,
The Traytors shou'd Escape guard ev'ry Passage.

Hel.
Scanderbeg must die.

(Guards surround them)
Off.
Not by the Hand
If mine can aim aright, thou bloody Villain!

[Wounds Hellena. She falls.
Hel.
Untimely Fate!

Cle.
Where are you?

Hel.
Here on the Earth.

Cle.
You're wounded then?

Hel.
Alas! to Death, Cleora.

Cle.
Prophet, I do not charge you with Injustice;
But I must grieve, and wonder Things are thus.

Hel.
Too hasty Death, cou'dst thou not stay a little,
Little longer; the Business of my Life
Had soon been done, and I had come to thee.

Pau.
Moving Sounds! I fear you've been too rash.
Ill fated Youths, who are you, and from whence?
What dire Misfortune brought you to this Place?

Hel.
It matters not, who, or from whence we are;
But as you prize pour Royal Master's Life,
Conduct me to him strait: mine ebbs apace,
Yet on its short Duration his depends.

Pau.
Your Adjuration is of such a Force,
His own Commands wou'd scarce oblige me more.
Sir, I'll attend you.

Hel.
All you fleeting Powers,
Sight, Speech and Motion; O! forsake me not
So near my Journey's End; assist me to
Perform this only Task, and take your flight for ever.

SCENE IV.

Scanderbeg's Tent.
Scan.
Degenerate Rome! by godlike Brutus freed
From Cæsar and his temporary Chain
Your own Ingratitude renew'd those Bonds,
Beneath whose galling Weight you justly perish'd.
If Freedom be Heaven's universal Gift,
Th' unalienable Right of Humankind,
Were all Men vertuous, there would be no Slaves.
Despotick Power, that Root of Bitterness,
That Tree of Death, that spreads its baleful Arms
Almost from Pole to Pole; beneath whose cursed Shade,
No good Thing thrives, and ev'ry ill finds Shelter;
Had found no Time for its detested Growth,
But for the Follies and the Crimes of Men.
In ev'ry Climate, and in ev'ry Age,
Where Arts and Arms and publick Virtue flourish'd,
Ambition, dangerous only to itself,
Crush'd in its Infancy, still found a Grave
Where it attempted to erect a Throne.

Enter Hellena, supported by Paulinus and Cleora; Guards following.
Hel.
My Blood flows faster, and my throbbing Heart
Beats with redoubled force, now I behold him;
O take me to thy Arms—I die Cleora! (Swoons)


Pau.
He faints; support him, while we search his Wound.

Cle.
Away; and touch him not—O gracious Prince!
If ever pity moved your Royal Breast,
Let all depart except yourself and us.

Scan.
Let all withdraw.
(Exit Paulinus, &c.
Now, gentle Youth, inform me,
Why you oppose th' assistance of your Friend?

Cle.
She's gone, She's gone: O Heavens! She's past Assistance.

Scan.
Think what you say, and recollect your Reason.

Cle.
O mighty Prince! we are not what we seem,
But hapless Women.

Scan.
Ha!

Cle.
Women; and sure
The most distress'd, and wretched of our Sex.
T'increase your Admiration, view this Face.

Scan.
Sure I have known these lovely Features well;
But when, or where, my Recollection fails me.

Cle.
And well it may. O! who cou'd know thee now;
Never enough deplor'd, unhappy Princess.

Scan.
Fearful Suggestion! Sure my Eyes deceive me!
Forbid it Heaven, that this shou'd be Hellena.

Hel.
Who was it call'd upon the lost Hellena?

Scan.
Ha! she revives; fly instantly for Aid.

Hel.
It was his Voice—false Maid, thou hast betray'd me.
Stay—whether woud'st thou go? I'm past all Aid:
The friendly Hand of Death will quickly close
These ever streaming Eyes, and end my Shame.
O Prince! the most distinguish'd and belov'd
By righteous Allah, of his Works below;
You see the Daughter of relentless Amurath,
Sunk with her Father's Crimes, o'erwhelm'd with Shame,
Expiring at your Feet. My Weakness stands
Confess'd, but be it so I will no more
Lament my painfull, hopeless, fatal Flame,
Since Heaven ordain'd it for your Preservation.

Scan.
When will my Wonder and my Anguish cease?

Hel.
I'm come to save you, Prince, from falling by
A vile Assassin's Arm; the false Amasie,
Has deeply sworn your Death; ev'n now he comes
To plunge his bloody Poniard in your Breast.

Scan.
Fatal Mistake! what base Detractor has
Traduc'd my Friend; and wrought thee, gen'rous Princess
To thy Ruin?

Hel.
Doth not the Traytor come
Here by Appointment?

Scan.
Ha!

Hel.
Whence learnt I that?
Be not deceiv'd, but guard your precious Life;
Or I shall die in vain. For me this bloody
Enterprize was form'd; my feeble Charms,
That wound but where I hate, the Motive to
This Crime.

Scan.
Just Heav'n! that I cou'd longer doubt it!

Cle.
Alas! she's going raise her, gently raise her.

Hel.
My Head grows dizzy.

Scan.
Lean it on my Breast.

Hel.
This is indeed no Time to stand on Forms.

Scan.
The Pains, the Agonies of Death are on her;
And yet she suffers less, much less, than I.
What generous Heart can bear it?

Hel.
Do not grieve:
And yet methinks your Pity sooths my Pain.

Scan.
Why wou'dst thou give thy Life to Ransom mine?
Wou'd I had died, or yet cou'd die, to save thee.

Hel.
I'd not exchange my Death, lamented thus
And in your Arms, for any other's Life—
Unless Althea's.

Scan.
Were Althea here
She wou'd forget her own severe Distress,
And only weep for yours.

Hel.
May she be happy!
Yet had you never seen her, who can tell,
You sometimes might, perhaps, have thought on me.

Scan.
He in my Place who cou'd refrain from Tears,
Unenvied let him boast of his Brutality.
I'm not asham'd to own myself a Man.

Hel.
Farewel, Cleora!—weep not, gentle Maid;
I recommend her, Sir, to your Protection.
And, O victorious Prince; if e'er hereafter
Conquest shou'd give my Father to your Sword
—Then think on me—suspend your lifted Arm,
And spare—O spare his Life—forget your Wrongs;
Or think them punished in his Daughter's Loss.

(Dies.
Scan.
Her gentle Soul is fled; she rests in peace;
While we, methinks, like Gratitude and Grief,
Form'd by the Sculpture's Art to grace her Urn;
Moving, tho' lifeless; eloquent, tho' dumb;
Excite incurious Mortals to explore,
Virtues so rare, and trace the shining Store,
That cou'd a Life so short so well supply;
Yet mourn with us such Excellence shou'd die.