University of Virginia Library

SCENE, A Grove.
Enter Clarence, and Malavill.
Clar.
With much a-do, I've broke from faithful Warwick,
Who prest me hard to know my fatal sorrows.
This the hour, and this the place,
In which I met my Heavenly Isabella:
Let my ambitious Brothers waste their time,
In climbing up the Royal precipice;
Let Casuists argue the injustice of the War,
Whilst I retiring from the bustling Crowd,
Find my sure bliss in Isabella's eyes;
See! where the brightness darts thro' yonder shades;
So Cynthia lookt, when in Lathmo's Cave
She nightly met Endymion. Oh no! My
Isabella's Beauty will surmount all poets Rapture.
Enter Isabella and her Woman.
O thou balm of Comfort! Soul of sweetness!
Look on me, shoot thy Beams into my bosom,
Talk to me, Charm me into Ecstasie, for
Heaven is my Witness, I never think of Joys
But in thy Presence?

Isa.
O Clarence! the gloomy Stars that rule our fates
Were never sure for Conjunction made;
Distant, alas! and wide they dart their angry Rays;
And seem to threaten everlasting separation.

Clar.
At such a thought I'd curse them from their Spheres.
They now are kind, Oh! may my fair one prove so too.
Then this very night they light me on
To endless Worlds of bliss.

Isa.
What means my Lord?

Clar.
Have I been only flatter'd with what alone
My youth has gloried in; or may I trust
The trembling tender accents, that have whisper'd
Thy heart, thy precious heart was mine?

Isa.
When first the Queen bid me look on you
As my destin'd Lord, I thought 'twas duty
Made me regard you, more than all mankind.
But ah! too soon I found that Godlike form,
And the respect you paid; which love alone produces,
Had gain'd the ascendant o'er my Virgin wishes.
If since my eyes have stray'd, or any object
Brought to my thoughts, that offer'd to rebel
Against the awfull power already there
May Heaven, which knows the secrets of my Soul,
Punish me with loss of you and Fame.

Clar.
Bend, ye Celestial Quire; bend down with me,
And bless the Angel you have lent, for breathing
Words like these, that tune and charm my Soul.
By my hopes, were all the merits of our Race,
Cramn'd into one, he durst not plead desert,
A Beam of mercy, the least regard of pity,
Pays an Age of Services. Oh! how wretched am I?

Isa.
Why, my dear Clarence! why does thy bosom heave
With sighs, as the great heart within were rending?
If I have any Charms, if I can please,
Is not all the kindness of my eyes addrest to thee?

Clar.
Therefore, and only therefore do I curse
My Fate, that being blest beyond what
The most Ambitious cou'd have hop'd for,
I yet have more, much more to ask.
E'er my Request is told! Oh Isabella,
Guess what's the Consequence; how it imports
My Life, these Agonies will sure express.
I who have stood pitch'd Battles without one
Shock of Nature, now feel Convulsive tremblings
Seize on every Nerve; nay, thus unmann'd,
Behold me weeping at your feet.

Isa.
What can you who have so much Honour
Fear to ask; or I, who have so much Love,
Refuse to grant? My Lord, as your partial kindness
Has set me nearer to your heart, than all the fairest
Of your Sex, so wou'd I approve my faith
Above the common rate,
To justifie your choice; speak thou Conqueror,
Propose the way, be it to strip me of these shining
Ornaments, the Pride of Courts, and fly with thee
To Caves, to Huts, and unfrequented shades,
Most readily I will obey.

Clar.
Ha! didst thou say fly with me! By Heaven.
'Tis on that the weight of my Petition hangs.
Can you, dare you, will you be so good,
To trust this tender work of Heaven, this
Matchless softness, never expos'd to ought less gentle,
Than the breeze from flowers? Dare you with me,
Venture tempestuous blasts, regardless Seas,
And all the hazards of Incommodious flight?

Isa.
Yes! my dear Clarence; Love wou'd make me bold,
Fill all my thoughts with thee, and dangers quite forgot,
When thou art ne'er me; But oh! I have another tie,
Duty, Friendship, Gratitude plants me here.
The mourning Queen, whose adversity has shook off
Fawning crowds, must not be left by Isabella.

Clar.
I'll not complain; or urge an Argument
Against that good and all-deserving Queen.
'Tis true, big with my hopes, for what won't Love
Prompt blooming youth to hope, I had prepar'd
A Vessel for our Transportation into France;
You, as a Branch of Burgundy, must needs
Have found a noble welcome in that Court;
And I, as Brother to great England's King
Cou'd have made my own Conditions.

Isa.
England's King, my Lord, is not your Brother.

Clar.
Yes, faithfull charming Maid, he is,
The People's hearts are his, the sickly Forces
Of falling Henry, to morrows setting Sun
In tombs: yet I wou'd fly from these flowing honours,
Which must adorn our Family, and gazing
Upon thee forget Ambition.

Isa.
What do you ask? to what do I incline?
These may not be faithfull, the way, the method,
All like Palaces in Fairy Land,
Impracticable, and only built on fancy.

Clar.
If Love's your guide, the way is very easie,
The secret door, you now have passed, you may
As well command at twelve; there I will wait,
Like the far travell'd Pilgrim, who knows no Peace
Of mind, till the opening Temple shows the Saint,
To whom his vows and oraisons are paid.

Isa.
Alas! I dare not tread those lonely paths,
Thro' hollow Vaults and most horrid Windings,
And at that dreadfull hour of Midnight;

Clar.
Give Malavill the outer Key, and we
Will meet you in the upper Court, nay, fear
Not, dearest, I know him well, born and bred
Amongst us, try'd and faithful as a Brother.

Isa.
Yet Brothers may be false! O my divided Soul,
Can I leave the dear indulgent Queen;
O draw me, Heaven, thro' this Labyrinth!
For Love and Friendship pull me several ways,
Like Cords upon the Rack; which ever way I yield,
No ease is granted to my troubled mind.

Clar.
Return! my soft beloved, Oh return!
Hush thy anxious thoughts a sleep, and think
Of me no more? Edward is indeed inveterate;
And which way ever Victory inclines, we meet no more.
Lead me, O Malavill! Lead me to the Battle.
Fix me in the front, against the ablest Archers fix me;
And let a thousand, thousand darts at once
Pierce this fond heart, which pants in vain for Isabella.

[Sinks on Malavill.
Isa.
Oh! my dear Lord! I'm not worthy half this passion,
My Fear is vanish'd, and my Love is strong.
Command me any thing, I will not raise
Another doubt.

Clar.
Oh! thou all goodness! dearest, sweetest Creature!
Once does wretched Clarence hold thee fast.

Isa.
Say, direct me how I shall proceed, for I will come.

Clar.
Wou't thou indeed?
O! Charming Excellence; oh! all perfection,
The blood that guards my heart leaps to my cheeks,
Fires my eyes, which almost start with passion;
And each crowding word to express my Joys,
Grows thick upon my Tongue.

Isa.
Talk not so wildly, but instruct me in my flight?

Clar.
My life; give to Malavill the Key of that door, thro' which you past.

Isa.
I cannot yet, for that way Tudor enters to the Queen,
Let him two hours hence beneath yon Eastern Tower
Wait, and I will give it him: what ails me
Clarence? Why do I tremble so?

Clar.
Oh! 'tis thy tender gentle nature, which frights
Thy little frame, and makes thee shrink at what
Thy love has promis'd; yet Isabella,
By all my hopes, by the blest Saints,
If Clarence lives, you shan't repent your kindness.
Blast me with Lightning from yon Azure roof,
Rivet me with sure fulfilling bolts, if time
In all its Course
Past or to Come, can ought more faithfull see.

Isa.
Or any Maid, who loves, and dares, like me.

[Exeunt severally.