University of Virginia Library


30

ACT III.

Thrasimond and Narbal.
Thr.
Am I reserv'd to be th'eternal Mark
Of Heaven's Resentment, and the Slave of Fate?
Tyrannick Sentence! Anguish undeserv'd!
Ha! Narbal, speak: say, did'st thou tell me right?
Or am I only tortur'd by my Fears?
Have I then lov'd so fiercely, and so long,
To find a Rival Brother dash my Hopes?
He quits Sophronia, he forsakes his own,
To prove himself a Villain, me a Wretch:
Why must I suffer from a Brother's Guilt?
Where are his Oaths, that to Eudosia thus
He pays the Tribute of a perjur'd Heart?
Why were Sophronia's Charms too weak to hold him,
Bar his Revolting, and prevent his Crimes?
Or why was my Eudosia form'd so fair?

Nar.
My Lord, he acts not of himself alone,
But counsell'd and supported by your Father.

Thr.
Does he then, partial Parent, barb'rous King!
Act so unworthy both those sacred Names?
I see, great Gods! you are Confederates all,
Join in my Ruin, and conspire to curse me.
But heard you how the Empress did receive
This rash Proposal? for my Princess, she,

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I know, opposes their unjust Designs;
And would they force her to their Tyrant Wills?

Nar.
My Lord, she comes herself, to her I leave you,
To gain a further Knowledge of your Fate.

Enter Eudosia.
Eud.
(After a long Pause.)
Thus strangely fix'd, thus silent to your Friend,
Not speak to your Eudosia? Cruel Fate!
Then I sorefee my Wretchedness indeed.

Thr.
Alas! my Fair, I'm searching in thy Eyes
To teach me what to say.

Eud.
Oh Thrasimond!
Needs then thy Heart an idle Prompter there,
To teach you how to greet the Maid that loves you?
But that, my Lord, I fear, like faithless Friendship,
Unkindly now abandons the Distress'd,
Nor shares Eudosia's Griefs, nor bleeds with mine;
Else sooner had it taught thy frozen Tongue
To make me some amends for all my Pains,
To tell me thou wert true, and felt my Woes.
How art thou chang'd! I see my Ruin plain;
Now welcome Death, thou far more generous Friend
To her that loves, but is belov'd no more.

Thr.
Belov'd no more! retract the Accusation!
Say'st thou I love thee not? Let every Pang
Of Doubt, Confusion, Anguish and Despair,
That shews the present Tumult of my Soul,
In speaking Sadness, and expressive Looks,
Upbraid thy Charge, and witness for my Truth.
No, I would ask Instruction from those Eyes,
How I must now address myself, to whom,
My Sister or my faithful Princess still.


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Eud.
Ha! barb'rous Thrasimond, and can you then
Suspect me yielding to a Crime like that?

Thr.
No, when I do, may I deserve to lose thee;
Then may this Rival, this exulting Brother,
With Heart dilated, Eyes of fiery Transport,
In all the furious Throbs of blending Love,
Snatch thy rich, panting Beauties to himself,
Act all my hop'd-for Pleasures in my stead,
And in the Folds of thy luxuriant Charms
Shew every jealous, envying, wishing God,
A Rebel Mortal happier than themselves:
May I be doom'd to see it, may I serve
To aid his Raptures by my own Disgrace.
But thou art true, and all those Joys are mine;
Eudosia says she loves: repeat it, Winds;
Ye Rocks in Echoes catch the blissful Sound,
And in eternal Harmony relate
How fair, how constant she; how happy I.
To fear, is impious! Hence, vain boding Terrors!
Thus strengthen'd, what are all the mighty Names
Of Brother, Rival, Father, Monarch now?

Eud.
But, Oh alas! my Lord, we have to fear
Much cause indeed, much more than you foresee;
The Brutal Threats and Fury of the King,
These are your Rival Brother's dreadful Arms,
These Honoric's Boasts; and what for my Defence,
But Woman's feeble Refuge, Sighs and Tears?

Thr.
What d'you account th'Assistance of this Arm?

Eud.
What, rais'd against a Brother! No, my Lord,
Were my Resentments doubled with my Wrongs,
I would not covet a Revenge so dear,
To buy it with the Guilt of him I love.


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Thr.
Would you then have me bear with coward Patience
A happy Rival's Insults? No, my Princess,
Your Beauties and your Wrongs shall cancel all
Th'Affinity of Birth, or Ties of Blood:
Should he but dare the Violence you fear,
What Awe, what Duty, should deter this Arm
From vindicating thee with ample Justice?
No, tho' upheld by Genseric, to his Eye
I'd scourge his minion Son, thro' all the Court
Proclaim my Cause, and own no Pow'r but Love.

Eud.
My Lord, restrain your Anger, Gens'ric comes.

Enter Genseric.
Gen.
Madam, I sought you out, to let you know,
What Honours I've design'd your House in you,
To give your Term of lengthen'd Sorrows End,
How far my Pity reaches.

Eud.
Pity, ye Gods!

Thr.
Sad Mockery of Words! Barbarian Pity!

[Aside.
Gen.
Why, Madam, flow these Tears, or whence your Pain?

Eud.
Insulter! do you view me here, and ask,
With feign'd Surprize, the Reason of my Tears?
Am I a Roman? Can I call to mind
Afflictions and Disgraces heap'd upon me;
My self a Captive, and my Country's Pride
Levell'd and Ravag'd by thy guilty Sword,
And wear a Face of Smiles amidst my Ruin?
Or have these Chains sufficient Harmony
To lull and sooth my Bitterness of Soul,
Put Balm into my Wounds, and dry my Tears?

Gen.
Mistaken Princess! why d'you cherish still,
With idle Piety, and guilty Fondness,
The sad Remembrance of a Place so fatal?

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Of Rome, yet reeking with your Father's Blood!
Disclaim th'ungrateful Land, forget your Birth,
Wed Honoric, and Africk be your Country.

Eud.
The Guilt of Italy at length is clear'd,
Its Stains are by its Punishments effac'd;
Its Crimes were great, and infinite its Woes;
Short were the Traitor's Triumphs; certain Death
Soon paid his Treasons their deserv'd Reward.
Should Carthage pay Rome's Price for all its Guilt,
Then I might change my Form, and smile indeed.

Gen.
Madam, my Favours brook not this Return.

Eud.
Resent it as you may, I never can
Nor will forget thy Cruelties.

Gen.
Is this,
This to be cruel? (Give me Patience, Gods!)
To raise thee from a Slave, ungrateful Woman!
And join thee to the Royal Blood of Genseric?
To change thy Bonds for Diadems and Power,
And lay thy Passage open to the Empire?

Eud.
What are to me these vain Temptations? what
The Charms of Empire, Diadems, or Power,
But glitt'ring Bubbles, with a mimick Splendour?
What from the gilded Prospect can I hope,
But added Woes, and multiply'd Distress?
What would it aid my Miseries, to trace
My great Forefathers down from distant Time,
And number all the Kindred Cæsars out,
But make me more unhappy than I am?
Compare my present Fortune with my past!
Shew me the glorious Height from which I fell,
A Princess to a Slave! the racking Thought!
Oh! had I sprung from some less noble Race,
Of humble Parents, in a Peasant Roof,
Then might I suit my Temper to my State!
Then might I learn to brook Captivity,
Own Gens'ric for a Lord, and cringe to thee!

Gen.
This is the haughty Language of the great,

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The noble Sentiments of Royal Pride,
And Minds distinguish'd from Plebeian thinking;
But spite of all thy boasted Pedigree,
Know 'tis my Will, that Honoric espouse thee;
Dispute not my Commands, for by my Crown
I'll use the glorious Privilege of Power,
And shew my self thy Master.

Eud.
Tyrant, well
Boast'st thou the Sway that Fortune gives thee o'er me:
But you deceive your Vanity, to think
That Fortune has the Power to make me less
The Daughter of an Emperor; I know
I am your Captive, but I know withal,
That being so, I am a Princess still.
Indulge the glorious Privilege of Guilt,
What Chance and Infidelity have gain'd thee;
Be cruel to the utmost of thy Power,
My Heart is still my own, and scorns thy Threats.
[Exit Eudosia.

Gen.
Ha! Am I Africk's Lord, and hear I this?
Or but the Shadow of Authority?
What! have I conquer'd to be disobey'd,
Thus brav'd, thus spurn'd, thus slighted by my Slave?
I've been too patient, and debas'd the Monarch,
But will assert him: This imperious Captive
Shall soon be taught to know herself and me.
'Tis not a List of Ancestors shall fright me,
Or authorize her Arrogance.

Thr.
Oh, Sir!
If on my Knees I might be heard, Your Honour—

Gen.
My Honour! 'Tis no longer to be worn,
Than useful to the Int'rest of my Crown:
Wisdom consults the Welfare of the State,
And not the Glory of a barren Virtue.

Thr.
But see them twisted in each other now,
Like kindred Plants, to rise or fall together:
Maintain your Honour, you support your Crown.

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Have you forgot the Time, this stubborn Land
Disputed ev'ry Step by which you rose,
And made your doubtful Claim of Conquest shake?
What could your Armies to secure Possession?
What but the promis'd Marriage of my Brother
With young Sophronia, could appease their Clamours,
And fix you on the Throne? You gave your Oath.
Tho' till her riper Years defer'd so long,
Should not the Nuptials be concluded now,
What may we not foresee? I dread to think!

Gen.
The Gods that disapprov'd th'imprudent Oath,
Have given me Power to disengage me now,
And have absolv'd me from each slavish Tie:
Yet for a Colour, in some neighb'ring Prince
I will provide a Husband for the Maid;
To that she shall consent.

Thr.
By such a Step,
Africk is given up to endless Woes;
Divisions growl afresh, new Factions rage:
You sully all the Fame you have atchiev'd,
In well-fought Battles, and successful Councils:
You leave a Name to late Posterity,
Odious, and mark'd for violated Oaths.

Gen.
Ha! wherefore dar'st thou thus rebellious Boy!
Whence does thy Vanity derive Pretence
To awe my Actions, or reform my Conduct?
Owe I to thee the Glories of my Reign?
To thee the great Success of all my Toils,
Th'Exploits that lift me up above the soar
Of common Kings, and fix me with the Gods?
Is't from your Valour, or your Prudence, ha?
That tributary Worlds revere my Name,
And shudder at the Thunder of my Arms?
Where is the Homage, the Respect, you owe
Ungrateful! to a Father and a King?

Thr.
Yes, Sir, I am your Son; nor have so soon
Forgot the Duty that I owe a Parent:

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Nor does that pious Rev'rence less appear,
In this Concern, this Boldness that inspires me,
To save the Glory you so rashly hazard.
Sophronia has a deep ingrafted Sway;
The Mistress of the adoring Peoples Hearts;
Who weds her, makes a dangerous Advantage.

Gen.
'Tis well: She must be married then in Carthage.

Thr.
She'll ne'er consent a Subject should enjoy,
The Charms she hoarded for a Prince's Bed.

Gen.
I do believe it.

Thr.
Who shall wed her?

Gen.
You.

Thr.
Forbid it, righteous Gods! I wed Sophronia!
What have you said?

Gen.
Is she unworthy of you?
Is Africk's Heiress one to be despis'd?
Can you be more, more happy than in her?

Thr.
Shall I espouse my Brother's plighted Bride?
Sophronia ever claim'd my just Esteem;
I view'd her as a Sister; gaz'd upon her,
But with the Chastness of a Brother's Love.
Could I exceed those Bounds, and not incur
That Guilt recoiling Nature most abhors?
Would you not chuse to hate me do not make
My Disobedience rise from your Constraint.

Gen.
Impertinent Excuse! But hear, base Boy,
Nor dare the Fury of an anger'd Monarch,
Whose Pride is to be absolute, as those
Who thought me fit to reign, my Partner Gods,
Whose Will is Wisdom, and whose Word is Fate,
Jealous of Pow'r, impatient of Controul:
Know, Rebel, this is Genseric's Decree,
To Morrow, when the Nuptial Forms have made
Your Brother Honoric, and Eudosia One,
The Priest shall join Sophronia and thy self.
Forfeit thy Duty; dare dispute my Doom!


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Thr.
My Duty and my Reason, both direct
A ready blind Obedience to your Will;
But Love, sole Lord and Monarch o'er it self,
Allows no Ties, no Dictates but its own.
To that mysterious arbitrary Power,
Reason points out, and Duty pleads in vain.

Gen.
Aspar, to you I leave it to provide
The necessary Ceremonies strait:
I'll not be trifled with; who disobey,
Their Life shall pay the Forfeit. Think on that.
I leave you, Prince, but torture not thy self,
To study more Evasions to delay me;
For, by the Gods, I'll not be satisfied
With less than a Compliance, by to Morrow
Receive thy Bride, or Gens'ric may throw off
The Father, and exert the King indeed.

[Exeunt Gen. Asp.
Thr.
Gods! how I labour with this civil War,
Of Duty and of Love! ill-fated Prince!
On what canst thou resolve? weigh justly what
Thou ow'st the Names of Father, and of King:
Much to them both, I owe; but much, much more,
To the deserving Object of my Vows.
To her my conquer'd Inclination bends,
And each subsiding Duty yields to Love.
Then let us fly th'inhospitable Realm;
Fly with Eudosia from my Father's Rage:
Oh where, but Dangers will pursue me still?
Where, but to change one Mis'ry for a worse,
And tempt a thousand Rivals, flying one?
Her undesigning Beauty will undo us.
She is so fair, that each enamour'd Prince,
Will envy me the Blessing he protects.
Ha! is not Honoric the cruel Source
Of my severe inextricable Woes?
I'll tear him from my Breast, no more my Brother:
I'll chase him as an Alien, and a Foe.


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Nar.
But not attempt his Life?

Thr.
Thus low reduc'd,
Push'd to the Terrors of extream Despair,
By an inhuman Father's partial Hate:
What may not Wretchedness like mine attempt?
What can I hope, but Death and my Revenge?
Is't not enough, I'm tortur'd to behold
My Princess drag her ignominious Chains?
Is't not enough that I receiv'd my Life
From him, that King, that Foe, that has betray'd her?
Is't not enough, that I am still repuls'd,
When at his Feet I bend for her Release?
Is't not enough the Tyrant gives her from me?
T'enrich my rival Brother, ruins me!
But must he shew me yet a fiercer Proof
Of his unnatural Hatred, force my Hand
To act so adverse to my bleeding Heart,
And wed the wrong'd Sophronia? Oh, ye Gods!
Does Perjury to him appear no Crime?
Or seems no Crime unlawful, that affords
The pleasing, cruel Means to injure me?

Enter Sophronia.
Soph.
I come, my Lord—but find you much surpriz'd!
Say, may I credit what the King has told me?

Thr.
To your Misfortune, 'tis a Truth too fatal.
The King is too sincere, he cancels all
The Ties that bound my Brother and your self;
And chuses out a Husband in his stead,
Whose Heart's unworthy of you.

Soph.
Ha! unworthy of me!
I was in hopes, my Lord, since he design'd
To break the destin'd Match with Honoric,
He would have kindly given me to a Prince,
Who from admiring Infancy has reign'd

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The constant Object of my wishing Soul:
Whom Love has made the Ruin of my Peace:
The Master of such Virtues, and such Charms,
As justify that Love, excuse my Fondness,
And draw in ev'ry captivated Heart.

Thr.
I thought my Brother had Success enough,
To have secur'd that Heart, and fix'd it his.

Soph.
Did you but think, my Lord, how much I strove,
To force it to my Duty; did you know
The hard, vain Strugglings of a love-sick Maid,
In this desponding agonizing Conflict;
By all my present Pangs, you'd not condemn me.
Oh! what's Resistance, when the Foe is Love?
But since a happier Fate has set me free,
And Honoric's call'd away by other Ties,
Why must I find my Bliss oppos'd by You?
'Tis You that have the Pow'r o'er him I love;
From You I wait my Destiny.

Thr.
From me?

Soph.
From You, my Lord. Need I discover more?
Is not my Meaning plain? You hold my Fate.
How slow you are to save a Virgin's Blushes!
But oh! be kind; prevent th'unequal Match,
To which you say the cruel King condemns me.
Yet (strange Effect of ever-wishing Love!)
So much the Image of that Godlike Youth
Fills my adoring Thoughts, and reigns in all my Hopes,
That tho' you kindly undeceive me now,
Some Throbs auspicious in my flutt'ring Heart,
Insinuate, that 'twas him your Father nam'd:
Resolve these Doubts, and tell me who he is,
This Undeserver; arm me to reject him,
And to repay the falseness of his Vows,
With Scorn, with Indignation and Disdain.


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Thr.
His greatest Fault, alas! is want of Love;
No other way unworthy to espouse you:
He has some Merit, and a Royal Birth,
But wears a Heart that never can be yours.
He wooes another, for another burns,
And with a Flame so constant and so fierce,
That to remove its stubborn settled Sway,
My Father threats, your own bright Beauties shine,
And Death, in all its Horrors, frowns in vain;
Behold the Husband.

Soph.
Hell! do I hear all this,
Yet trifle in the height of my Destruction!
My Lord, I know the Husband is design'd me,
And longer to disguise my self is vain.

[Ex. Soph.
Nar.
Her Eyes, at parting, shot a dreadful Gleam
Of Indignation, Passion, and Revenge.

Thr.
Ha! can I answer for the Turns of Fate?
Sophronia now believes—unthought of Horror!
How one Misfortune rises on another!
One dismal lengthen'd Scene of endless Woe!
Oh! my Eudosia! there's my deepest Wound!
My Brother haunts thee with malignant Love,
With savage Lust he marks thee for his Prey.
Sophronia's ill-tim'd frantick Passion makes
My Torments more inextricable still.
Since th'angry Gods thus meditate my Ruin,
Wound by so many Foes my injur'd Hopes,
And aim a separate Bolt at ev'ry part;
On me alone the Burthen shall not fall,
I'll spread their Horrors, and involve us all.