 | The Imperial Captives |  |
1
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Eudosia and Aspar.Eud.
How long, malicious Instrument of Power,
Say, for thou know'st the Tyrant's Counsels well;
How long will thy insulting Master hold
In Carthaginian Bonds great Cæsar's House?
His impious Fortune's Boast, and Rome's Disgrace!
Unshock'd can he survey a guilty Reign
Blacken'd with Perfidy, and stain'd with Blood?
Can he behold the Empress and myself
2
Nor Honour, nor Humanity upbraid
His treach'rous Arms, and violated Faith?
Say, subtle Minister of that proud Prince,
Say, Aspar, yet does Genseric relent?
What may we hope? or stands he still resolv'd
To wage with Justice, and with Nature War,
And meditating still continu'd Mischiefs,
Add to our Woes, and pride him in his Crimes?
Asp.
To make those Chains sit lighter on your Mind,
Lose the Remembrance of your Birth, and Rome;
Resign with Patience to the Will of Fate,
For fix'd as Fate are Genseric's Decrees:
From Patience, not from him, expect Redress.
Eud.
Patience! the sovereign Balm to lesser Woes,
But useless to Eudosia's! Think, cruel Aspar,
Can I be patient in this abject State,
Nor hope again to see my Native Rome?
Imperial Rome! where my great Ancestors
Have led, to grace their Triumphs, vanquish'd Kings,
Chain'd and attending on their Chariot-Wheels:
Will Heaven consent, within the Walls of Carthage,
That Cæsar's Daughter be confin'd a Slave?
No, tho its Eye seems winking for a while
It can't approve the Guilt that it permits;
Nor longer shall thy Master's faithless Pride
Mock at the tardy Thunder unchastiz'd,
But feel redoubled Vengeance from that Hand,
That Power, his Infidelity despis'd;
For all the Ravage of his barb'rous Arms,
For our harsh Bonds, for Nations Rights infring'd,
Sack'd Cities, and depopulated Lands.
Asp.
Madam, regardless of a Captive's Mein,
The Empress' and your own unbridled Rage
Breaks forth too oft in Language suiting ill—
Eud.
Ha! suiting ill! What suits it ill with these,
These Bonds, to murmur at the Tyrant Hand
3
My Mother will be Cæsar's Widow still,
True to her Blood, and every where herself:
Should Fortune once more change, or Fate relent,
She in her turn may triumph, in her turn
Rise (from Captivity) again to Empire,
And shew thy haughty Lord, and all the World,
What distant Awe Rome's Empress may command.
Is there a Chief renown'd for manly Daring,
So deaf to Glory, or to Woman's Wrongs,
That will not at th'Alarm our Fetters sound,
From shameful Inactivity arise,
To vindicate the Cause of injur'd Majesty?
Asp.
Madam, you rail, but by my Master's Fortune
It seems full plain, that Heaven thinks otherwise
Than your vain Hopes suggest: but henceforth, Madam,
I would advise you to restrain this Phrenzy,
Or you may find more reason to complain.
But here's the Prince; already has he mov'd
The King in your behalf, of him you'll know
His Father's last Resolves, and his Success.
[Exit Aspar.
Enter Thrasimond and Narbal.
Thr.
Oh my Eudosia! Oh my Father!
Eud.
Enough, my Lord, I see what we must hope;
The cruel Genseric is known too well.
Thr.
Why, why, ye Gods! of him must I complain,
My rigid, deaf, inexorable Father!
Believe me, thou much-lov'd, unhappy Maid!
I spoke, I labour'd strongly in your Cause,
Urg'd him with all the Violence of Grief
That Love could utter, or your Wrongs inspire;
Urg'd him by all th'indissoluble Tyes
Of Honour, Force of Vows, and Faith of Kings:
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Your Sex, the due Regard that Sex does claim,
Your House, your Country, ruin'd by his Arms;
Weak Motives all! yet all but that chaste Flame
Which keeps thy Godlike Image ever here,
Did I employ to move the stubborn King.
Eud.
Farewel then every Dawn of future Hope,
Since Thrasimond could plead, but plead in vain.
Oh Son too worthy thy remorsless Sire!
On cruel Maximus to seek Revenge,
Why did the injur'd Empress fondly court
A false Ally in thy more cruel Father?
Or if it was decreed his Hand alone
Should be the Means of our Destruction, why
Has erring Fate made thee the Tyrant's Son?
Thr.
Is this, ungenerous Princess! this Eudosia,
That once indulgent, tender-hearted Maid?
Roll back, ye Hours, that saw our early Loves,
And witness'd to our Vows, when first I came
Hostage of Peace, from Genseric to Rome;
Tell my forgetful Fair she is unkind,
My Father's Treatment to resent on me.
Could not a Lover's tributary Heart,
Hard Lot! atone the Error of my Birth?
But why do I dispute with Fate, or Thee,
When such a Train of Circumstances join
To bar my Wishes, and oppose my Joy?
Eud.
Alas! what threatning Cloud of farther Ills
Can this sad Mystery of Grief portend?
Tell me, my Lord, can I have more to fear?
Thr.
Why dost thou ask? Thy Bonds, thy Mother's Bonds,
Are both the Foes to Thrasimond, and Love.
The Captive Empress! thence is my Despair,
Can she look back upon the black Account
Of one continued Scene of adverse Fate,
Of Wrongs on Wrongs, and complicated Woes,
5
Alliance with the Son? No, there I'm lost.
Eud.
Ill do you judge; my Mother is a Roman,
Too noble to be blind to Worth like thine;
Wrong'd as she is, she weighs with Justice still,
As well thy Virtues, as thy Father's Crimes:
Nay, in her utmost Bitterness of Soul,
When her revolving Sorrows bear upon her,
Rise fresh to Thought, with aggravated Horror,
When she complains of Genseric and Fate,
With Joy have I observ'd her Griefs forbear
To rank the Son of Genseric with her Foes.
Thr.
And how could I deserve this wond'rous Goodness?
Eud.
Is there not cause? When thy insidious Father
Reeking with Guilt, and hot with human Gore,
Spread Devastation thro the Streets of Rome,
By Fire and Sword made Conquests terrible,
Then did she see my Thrasimond stand forth
To curb th'unruly Insolence of Victory,
And pitying that Imperial City's Fate,
Grant an Asylum to its guiltless Sons.
Thr.
But what does this avail my hopeless Love?
Eud.
These Benefits she knows, to these she adds
A nearer, nobler Goodness than them all:
Since Captives here, with what industrious Pity
You labour'd with your Father for our Freedom.
(Mercy, tho fruitless, valuable still!)
Propose, deserving Prince, your own Reward.
Thr.
Tempt me not, Princess, what I now must ask,
To claim profanely as my Merit's Due,
'Tis Height of Sin, Impiety in Love:
To Beauty, as to Heaven, its Votaries dare
No farther than in modest Hopes aspire.
Eud.
Then, Thrasimond, hope on, and be as blest,
As, witness for me Heaven, Eudosia wishes
In happier Times, she may have power to make thee.
6
Well, well, dost thou reprove my sluggard Genius,
So slow to teach my willing Heart the Means
T'assure thy Liberty, and fix thee mine.
By all the Gods of Glory and of Love,
I will engage my Faith, you shall be free;
Yes, yes, my suff'ring Fair, I've yet a Thought
May aid our Hopes, and gain the wish'd Success:
Sophronia to my Brother's Bed betroth'd,
Whom I have ever mark'd with wondring Eyes,
A ready, faithful, tho uncourted Friend,
Shall yield us now a seasonable Service,
And move my Brother Honoric, who stands.
No less the Son, than Fav'rite of the King,
To use his Interest, where my own has fail'd.
Eud.
'Tis generously thought, my Thrasimond;
But take not an Advantage of my Weakness,
Yourself the only Witness of my Love.
Go on and prosper in the friendly Office,
Eudosia's the Reward: But oh! beware,
Trust not too far that fierce, that haughty Fair-One;
(Forgive these jealous Fears) for much I doubt
Or her Sincerity, or our Success.
[Exit Eudosia.
Thr.
Causeless are all thy Doubts, too fearful Princess:
Why, let her know the Secret of our Loves,
'Tis safe repos'd, Sophronia has a Soul,
Fierce as it is, too noble to betray us.
Nar.
My Lord, might Narbal speak his humble Thoughts,
The Princess' Fears are not without a Cause:
Sophronia views you with a Lover's Eye,
Your Presence gives new Lustre to her Charms,
And heightens every Beauty in her Face;
She wears this Shew of Friendship, to conceal
The struggling Efforts of a stronger Flame.
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Narbal, forbear, and check that impious Thought,
Which moves thy Tongue to this unlicens'd Freedom;
Her Faith's already given to Honoric:
If she regards me with peculiar Friendship,
'Tis as a Sister to a Brother's Claim.
Nar.
If my suspicious Eyes inform me wrong,
Or you, my Lord, yourself are most deceiv'd,
A little Time will shew—But see, she comes!
Enter Sophronia and Justina.
Thr.
Welcome, Sophronia, doubly welcome now,
Thou Pride, thou Lustre of our Africk Courts;
Deign, like the great enlivening God of Day,
T'extend thy healing Influence to a Wretch
O'erwhelm'd with heaviest Woe, and chain'd in Doubt:
Ha! said I, Doubt? forgive the rash Complaint;
What should I doubt thy Goodness, or my Cure,
When you, and only you, can yield the Means?
Soph.
My Lord, yourself prolong your own Despair;
If 'tis Sophronia's Hand must reach you Aid,
Why thus do your ambiguous Words amuse
The readiest of your Friends? Demand that Aid.
Thr.
No longer can my burning Heart support
This furious Anarchy of warring Passions;
Like some poor Wretch turn'd loose to Fortune's Frowns,
To clam'rous Foes, and vile deserting Friends,
The Curse of Thought, Reflection, and Despair,
Too much I doubt each Remedy I wish;
And yet I must, I will reveal my Pain:
But let me first adjure you, summon up
Each Faculty of Goodness in your Soul;
By your great Self, and by your Sex I beg you,
By all the softning Force of Sighs and Tears,
With Pity hear, with gen'rous Speed redress
A Prince, the Heir of Africk, and a Lover.
8
Pleasing Surprize! he loves; o'erwhelming Rapture!
[Aside.
What means, my Lord, this frantick Dress of Words?
Thr.
It means the sharpest Sorrow Man can feel,
The bitt'rest Pangs desponding Love can mourn.
Soph.
Love, Prince! and is it possible that you,
Whose Infant Soul was practis'd in the School
Of hardy Toils, and the rough Trade of War,
Can own a Woman's Conquest, and resign
Your Martial Fires to Love's enfeebling Flame.
Thr.
'Tis Beauty, Madam, animates the Warriour,
And Love that spurs him to the Tracts of Glory:
Lay the World's several Empires in his Grasp,
The Conquest would be judg'd a trivial Purchase,
If Love, as well as Fame, were not to crown
The Victor's Brow, and heighten his Reward.
Soph.
When Princes form'd like Thrasimond shall love,
Their Passion may command their own Reward.
Let Fear, Contempt, Distrustings, and Disdain,
Be the due Portion of th'inferiour World,
Dull, vulgar Courtship, and mechanick Love,
Tortures unworthy you, young valiant Prince,
The Fav'rite Son of Empire and of Glory:
What Beauty worth your Passion, but with Pride
Will meet the Proffer, and compleat your Hopes?
Thr.
Those Hopes must still rest uncompleated all,
If you withhold your Aid; I would request it,
But yet I fear: (curs'd Diffidence of Love!)
Soph.
Fear nought, but let me know, I'll soon convince you,
How much you injure both yourself and me.
Thr.
Then at your Feet, thus humble'd I implore.
[Kneeling.
Soph.
Nay, rise, my Lord, I must not see you thus,
This Posture shames the Friend you may command.
Did you but weigh this Torment of Suspense,
9
Will know in labouring for your Ease, you would not,
You could not thus delay, be thus unkind.
Thr.
Bless'd be the Tongue that utters so much Goodness,
Gives such Presages of my future Bliss.
Soph.
Bless'd be the happy Hour Sophronia hears it.
[Aside.
Come, Prince, impatient I attend the Means,
That, prosp'ring your Desires, may crown my own.
Thr.
Thus hear my Woes, and thence resolve my Fate:
My Brother, Madam, is contracted yours,
Both by my Father's, and the People's Voice.
Soph.
And what of that? Tho Honoric's your Foe,
Sophronia may deserve a kinder Name.
Thr.
To you then I appeal for instant Justice:
Or by your Goodness let this Anguish die,
Or shall this Sword, the Soldier's brave Companion,
Which has so oft in the red Sweat of War
Made fierce Opposers fly their certain Fate,
And bore the glorious Triumph of the Day,
Now to a nobler Triumph turn its Point,
And set its suff'ring Master free at once
From his worst Foes, his Misery and his Life?
You, Madam, have the Sway o'er Honoric's Heart,
And may employ your Int'rest to procure
(For he can have at will my Father's Ear)
Th'unhappy Captive Princesses their Freedom.
Soph.
Ha!
Thr.
This is the Boon that Thrasimond petitions,
This must resolve your Friendship, or my Doom.
Soph.
Perdition! Daggers! Hell! I die, Justina.
[Aside.
Thr.
Nay, start not, Madam; but consider well
What you've engag'd, what Thrasimond requests:
Eudosia, she the fair Imperial Captive,
Is mine by every Tye of mutual Love,
10
'Tis you that hold their Fates within your power,
And 'tis of you that I demand their Liberty.
Soph.
Amazement! Horror! Now support me all
Our Sex's Arts, their Pride, and their Dissemblings,
Disguis'd Resentments, and suspended Rage,
Nor let me shew myself the Wretch I am.
Thr.
Madam!
Soph.
My Lord, I'll make your Interest mine,
You have Sophronia's Word, on that confide;
But name th'unhappy Princesses no more.
You love Eudosia, she returns the Flame;
I have the Trust, depend upon Success,
I will exceed my Promise in your favour.
Thr.
Then, Thrasimond, again hope, live, and love,
Sophronia and the Gods declare thee happy.
So when amidst the warring Surges Foam,
The trembling Sailor sees his threaten'd Doom,
When scatt'ring Billows o'er the Vessel lave,
And Death's grim Terrors frown in every Wave;
He to the pitying Gods commends his Prayer,
They still the Storm, and save him from Despair.
[Exit Thrasimond.
Soph.
He's gone!
Now burst forth all the Rage, the smother'd Rage
Of injur'd, thwarted, disappointed Woman,
And let this Fury have its Loose of Raving:
On this ungrateful, blind, deceiving Man,
Let my full Bosom level all its Vengeance,
Let me forget his Charms, and curse my own,
My own too weak, too impotent Allurements.
He loves! for ever let me curse the Sound,
Since not the kind, the languishing Sophronia.
What Guilt so heinous has my Soul conceiv'd,
That could call down a Punishment so great,
Successless Burnings, and a Man's Disdain!
Alas! Justina, did I hear him right?
11
By all my Wrongs I must, I will have Vengeance;
But where, on whom, or how shall I direct it?
Just.
Madam, have happier Thoughts.
Soph.
Peace! poor Adviser.
Eudosia, she the fair Imperial Captive,
Is mine by every Tye of mutual Love!
These were the direful, killing, damning Words.
Eudosia! which? the Empress or her Daughter?
'Tis both their Names, and both are but too fair.
Let me disown my Nature and my Sex,
If ever I forget this worst of Wrongs,
My slighted Beauty and neglected Charms:
By Heaven I'll wreak my Vengeance on them both,
Then this curs'd, happy Rival can't escape it;
I'm justify'd by Love, 'tis his Revenge.
Just.
This Transport of your Passion runs too far;
What has the Empress, or her Daughter done,
To kindle up such Wrath?
Soph.
Done, done, Justina!
They've ravish'd from me all, my Life, my Soul,
The brightest Object of the fiercest Love,
My Prince, my darling Hope, my Thrasimond.
Just.
Till now then was the Prince's Heart your own?
Soph.
Nor mine, nor any other's, till the Time,
(Curse on the late Success of Gens'ric's Arms,
That brought her first to Carthage to undo me!)
When this detested Rival made it hers.
Am I the first in Africk Courts for Beauty?
And can I bear with Patience, think, Justina,
That Curse of Curses to a Woman's Soul,
To see myself out-worship'd and out-shone;
That Youth my burning Wishes sought so long,
Possess'd and panting in another's Arms?
Just.
Madam, if Reason—
12
What of Reason? ha!
Let Reason travel hence to distant Climes,
To dastard Souls that court its feeble Aid;
Love, Love, and dire Revenge have all my Heart.
Just.
If that the Prince had been unfaithful, then—
Soph.
Ah! if he were, I then might be belov'd.
Nay, for another had he quitted me,
So full, so just a Cause for my Complaints,
Had made my Anguish less: but he is faithful,
So faithful, that his Virtue is my Ruin;
And faithful might his Soul have been to me,
If I had dar'd to put it in his power,
Nor kept this fatal Flame so long disguis'd.
Why blame I him? my Miseries to myself
Are owing all: Could Thrasimond divine
But Honoric alone possess'd my Heart?
Just.
And is not Honoric destin'd for your Lord?
Can you break thro th'Engagements bind you to him?
Or unresenting would he bear the Wrong?
He who so often murmurs at his Fate,
Nor brooks, but with Repinings and Disdain,
An Elder Brother's Right in Thrasimond,
Could he behold the Center of his Wishes
Snatch'd from him by the Object of his Hate,
Nor hurried by his proud Ambition, vow
His too successful Brother's instant Ruin?
Soph.
Thou art a Stranger here, nor know'st, Justina,
With what indifferent Eyes, what cold Regard
This Promise of a future Husband views me:
No, Honoric's Heart is sensless of these Charms,
His Love nought more than Policy of State.
When to suppress the Insults on our Realm,
My Father call'd in Genseric to his Aid,
To engage him firmer, offer'd for Reward
The Dividend of all his rescu'd Regions;
Tempted by such a Prospect of Advantage,
13
The Enterprize, and with a thousand Vessels
Darken'd the Shores of Africk, rais'd afresh
Each drooping Heart, and chas'd away the Foe
But, (faithless, false Appearance of Relief!)
He sav'd us from one Enemy, to prove
A greater, more encroaching Foe himself:
Puff'd up with Conquest, and but ill content
With the due Limits of my Father's Promise,
This false confederate Friend, this Tyrant Victor,
As fortunate in Arms, grew great in Guilt,
Broke Oath on Oath, usurp'd the whole Dominion,
Forc'd him to fly his now subjected Country,
And end his miserable Days an Exile.
Just.
Disastrous Turn of Fortune! sad Relation!
Soph.
Yet Conquest gain'd not Love; the People still,
True to my Father and his Injur'd House,
Restless in Bondage, rose in my behalf,
Revolting daily from th'Usurper's Side:
Then Genseric, too subtle Politician,
T'unite the jarring Int'rests of our Houses,
Appease the People, and secure himself,
Propos'd this Son, this Honoric for my Husband;
Then scarcely six Years old; alas! too young
To know the Imposition on my Fate:
Since when I've liv'd as Honoric's Wife. But oh!
Too oft, to my Destruction and Despair,
With full desiring Eyes, and bleeding Heart,
With anxious Joy, fierce Doubts, and fiercer Hopes,
(The dang'rous Warfare of imperious Love!)
I saw the elder Sunshine of the Court,
The lovely Thrasimond; the rest you know.
Just.
I do, and share with you in all your Griefs.
Soph.
I thank thy Pity, Grief and Pity's all
That Friendship can expect, or Friendship pay.
But thy unhappy Mistress must do more,
14
Thoughts equal to her Miseries and herself:
Justice and Vengeance!
Just.
How to compass them?
Sop.
That Thought's already mine; the cunning Aspar,
The first in Trust, and second in the Empire,
Owes to the Bounty of my Father's Hand
His present Greatness and exalted Power,
He'll scorn to prove ungrateful to the Daughter:
And him will I employ, my glorious Engine
To push my Wrath, and model my Resentments
Through all the Windings of a Statesman's Brain,
To dart their meditated Fury home
On this disdainful, charming, hated Prince;
To ruin Thrasimond, and break the more
Detested Nuptials with his Brother off.
Go, go, Justina, find the Statesman out,
Tell him within an hour Sophronia waits him
At private in her Closet; tell him all
Her Fears, Despondings, Agonies and Wrongs
Tell him the Source of all, and let him know
How much I need his Friendship and his Aid.
Just.
And have you weigh'd with Caution the Result,
These jarring Thoughts and puzzl'd Resolutions?
You would break thro th'Engagements of a Match
That thwarts your Inclination, and yet him
For whom you break it, Thrasimond, you doom
To an eternal Wretchedness: First think,
And will you love him less?
Soph.
What, love him still!
Witness ye Powers, and punish or approve
As I pursue my Purpose, or desert it.
What, languish for the Cause of all my Ruin!
Then by severest Justice let me perish,
15
Let suffocating Earth devour my Guilt,
If I forget implacably to pay
With bitt'rest Malice and eternal Hate
This unregarding Insult to my Love;
Or, what is worse, let me again be scorn'd,
And live to feel my present Pangs for ever.
Just.
And yet I fear—
Soph.
Fear nothing for Sophronia:
As on the Racks of jealous Love I die,
With equal Fury shall my Justice fly;
Unaw'd by Fear, by Danger, or by Shame,
I'll brave my Ruin to avenge my Flame,
Throw off my Sex e'er I'll my Rage abate,
And be a Woman only in my Hate.
| The Imperial Captives | |