University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Enter Eva, and Avelina.
Eva.
Could I have wish'd a better Fate then this,
To meet so kind a Partner in my Sorrow;
A Friend, a Prisoner, and a Sister too.

Ave.
Heaven began to pitty our Distress,
And to our broken Hearts o'rewhelm'd with Grief,
Hurryed down this Gleam of Joy upon us;
But oh! my Tyrant Father is revengful,
And whilst that we are laying Schemes for Life,
Perhaps has sign'd the Warrant for their Deaths,
Whose Lives, can only make us wish to Live.

Eva.
My faithful Lover must be lost for ever;
My Father's Palace would be Woe to me.
So far, is your's a different Case to mine,
In losing of my Brother: what you lose,
By Time, and other thoughts, may be forgot.
When I'm torn from my Regan, I must joyn
My Hands with one, who is a Stranger born.
To lose the thing we Love, is Grief enough;
But horror to my Soul! what Grief is that?
To wed the Creature, whom my Country hates.

Ave.
It is indeed a dismal Heap of Woe.
But Prayers and Tears, perhaps may set us free,
And Crown us both with Love and Happiness.

Eva.
Hope is the sickly folly of the Mind;
Flatters, stupifies, and lulls our Thoughts to Sleep,
And when the Danger comes, makes Cowards of us.
The noble Soul disdains to wish and hope;
But ruminates upon the worst Events;
Draw up fierce Resolution to their Aid,
And dares defy, what wordly Woes can bring.

Ave.
Your brave Heroick Soul, enlivens mine,
And Fear and Trembling, Handmaids to our Sex,
Are Strangers to me now, I've thrown them off;
And since I must dye once, I care not when.

Eva.
Wipe off those Tears, and let our Goaler see,
How much we do despise his haughty Threats:
Laugh and redicule his Wracks and Tortures,
Till Gall and vile Revenge, choak up his Throat.

Ave.
Catholicus, the vilest Wretch alive,
Blows up my Fathers Anger to that pitch,
That in his Passion, Right and Wrong are drown'd.
See where the Holy, Pious Outside comes,
Which is a Covering to the worst of Men.

Enter Catholicus.
Catho.
It is not safe to let them be together,
When Malice takes Possession of a Female:
It strongly works, and brings forth dire Effects,
I'le wheedle out the Secrets of their Hearts:
And then, as bound, betray them to the King.
(Aside)
(To them)
Peace wait on you both, if you are not at Prayers,
I fain would hold some short Discourses with you,
Have you Avelina, weighed the good Advice
I cordially, and like a Friend, this Morn
Repeated to you? Are you sensible
How much you have offended Heaven, and
The King your Father? in the Love of one,
That is to the Church and him, an Enemy.

Eva.
Know proud Prelate, when your Lives are opposite
To what you preach and Pray, no one gives Ear
To what you utter: Example leads the Way,
And makes your Proselytes, zealous and Sincere:
But we abhor the Wretch, who in his Heart
Has base Revenge; with Goodness at his Lips,
Hypocrisie and Cant, is rooted in you.

Catho.
From you, my Meekness can bear more than this;
I think I am in Duty bound, to hear
All the Scurrility you have to say:
When you have said your worst, I can revenge
My self, upon your Brother, and your Friend.

Ave.
Have you no bowels of Compassion then?
No tender Spark, about your flinty Heart?

Catho.
Yes, perhaps I have; if I was right attackt:
But do you think that Flesh and Blood can bear,
To hear you talk, and rail, and be your Friend;
I own the Zeal I have to serve your Father,
Has often push'd me on, to do such Deeds,
As I have wept and pray'd and fasted for;
And executed Pennances, that would
Have made your tender Eyes shed tears of Blood.

Ave.
You once I know did say, you were a Friend
To poor Cothurnus, and his mournful Cause;
But you of Late, have pushed him on to Death,
And show'd a horrid aggravating Spirit.

Catho.
I grant you, when he charg'd me of a Crime,
My tender righteous pious Soul abhorr'd,
My Saint-like-ship would sink into a Man,
And think too much of Earth, and so Resent.

Eva.
Is that the Rule of Faith which guides a Prelate?
You for your self can humane Nature plead,
And won't you then allow it to a Soul.
With grief opprest, upon the verge of Life,
Condemn'd to Die, for what they think unjust?
Then Nature makes her Sallys and resents,
Beyond the common Course of base Revenge.

Catho.
I grant you, Life is sweet, and worth our Care
To those who tremble at the Sight of Death,
It is a good and comfortable Cordial:
But we the Clergy, have our Wills resign'd;
And hate so much the Vanities of Life,
That we are wishing, panting after Death,
In hopes to shake of soon this mortal body.

Ave.
Father, methinks in you, it is a sin to die
When here on Earth you may do so much good,
A God-like, meritorious Act 'twould be:
To soften so my Fathers wrathful mind,
That poor Cothurnus and my Eva's Friend:
Might yet have hopes of Life in Spite of Chains,
Oh! how they'd bless, and praise, and thank you for't.

Eva.
Why are the Clergy by our holy Church,
So set apart from other Men, but that
Their Study should be Acts of Charity;
Their Lives a Course of one continued Good.
To make the Laity in love with Joys,
Above their sordid humane Apprehensions;
That when they shall shake off this mortal clay,
They may arrive amongst those solid Joys;
Which all that own our Faith, are panting after.

Catho.
'Tis now you've found the way to touch my Heart,
I weep, and let me tell you 'tis a Sign
Of tender Love, when e're a Prelate weeps.

But see the King appears.
Enter Rotherick.
Rothe.
I'm come Catholicus, to see how well
You use these fair Ones, take heed I've no Complaint.

Catho.
I'm naturally compassionate my Leige:
And much more so, to Beauty in Distress.

Rothe.
Your Ministers of State, who execute
Their Royal Masters will, should be like them:
And I thou knowst, have tender thoughts about me,
And punish but where Injuries are great;
Revenge is then my best Prerogative:
Say Avelina, have you taught the Princess,
To have a better Notion of me now,
Then when we last unhappily did meet?

Ave.
The Princess Sir is sweet, is kind and good;
And sensible of all the power you have;
At first, Captivity she could not Brook,
Which made her vent some Words that you thought harsh;
But well I know—

Eva.
(aside)
Take heed my Fair one, least you say too much.

Ave.
(aside)
His Temper now seems calm, and we perhaps;
May gain some Respite for your Brothers Life:
And if you cannot joyn in all I say;
Let him suppose your Silence gives Consent;
Least he should reassume again the Tyrant.

Rothe.
There is a certain Haughtiness, sits round
Her killing, dreadful, sparkling, pleasing Eye:
A Sort of Majesty, which does foretell
That all who look and gaze, must be her Slaves;
May I believe my Daughter fairest Eva?
When she declares, that your Resentment is
So soften'd, as to think your Rotherick,
Your abject Slave, is not so much a Tyrant
As you in your Anger, have proclaimed him.

Ave.
(aside)
Now dearest Eva, put on all the Woman;
And you and I shall gain his Heart for ever.

Eva.
Rotherick you know, it has been my Fate
Even from my Infancy, to've been Taught
That you were cruel, lawless, and revengfull;
The terrible, and most unhappy War:
Which has continued for so many Years,
Between my Father and yourself, perhaps
Has been a Motive to your Enemies;
To paint you so, as you have not deserved.
But as my Mind's possess'd, you can't remove
The Prepossession, but by acting so,
As may convince me you are good and Just.
The King of Leinster, may have been a Foe
So base, and so ungenerous; as you
Have had a Cause, which would provoke a Saint:
And made your Blood and Slaughter, just and right,
But say my Father, he has been to blame;
Why must the innocence of my Brother,
Be made a Sacrifice, to your Revenge?
I would fain believe, that your Humanity
Should you calmly think would save his Life,
That would be a King-like, God-like Action.

Rothe.
How her words inchant me! I grow Enamour'd,
Am shaking off, that haughty manly Spirit,
That should attend the Heart of Majesty.

Ave.
Cothurnus, once 'twas thought, had gained your Heart,
We know King Dermond, by his Breach of Treaties
Has plainly shown, he does disown his Son;
Or sure the Care of him, might have restrain'd
His Troops from further Acts of hostile War:
Be you to him a Father Sir, and show by
Your Mildness, the King of Leinster's Cruelty.

Eva.
And give the World a handle to believe,
That you have acted on a Principle of Good,
A View of Happiness to all Mankind.
Then you are truly Heavens Vicegerent here,
When your Subjects are your Care; each neighbouring King
Your Friend, and ev'ry Action of your Life
A publick Blessing, and a publick Good.

Rothe.
Catholicus, with Speed go free Cothurnus.

Catho.
I shall my Leige, that's from his Chains you mean;
Not give him Liberty to go abroad.

Rothe.
Prelate, how dare you thus explain my Will,
And handle it as if it were a Text?
Giving it your vile Interpretation;
Fly dull Priest with Speed, free him, fetch him here;
If you expostulate, put on his Chains,
Prepare to Die, and wait my Orders for't.

Catho.
I fly my Leige, (aside)
curse on their female Tongues,
The Storm at last, is like to fall on me.
(Exit)

Eva.
You now appear, what Majesty should be;
Great and Noble, yet kind and merciful
Whilst this Divinity is hovering round you;
It Emboldens me, to be asking still.

Rothe.
The more you ask, the more you still will please me.

Eva.
There was a faithful Servant taken with me,
Who shares Cothurnus Fate, and lyes in Chains:
If it so please your Majesty, I beg
Regan may be released, and share your Favour.

Rothe.
Fly Avelina, overtake the Priest:
Tell him 'tis my Will, that he brings Regan too;
So I think my Royal Princess call'd him.

Ave.
With hasty Wings of Love and Joy I go.
(Exit.

Rothe.
You see fair Angel, I am not that thing:
Your Father and his Ministers, have painted me;
I love my Country, and scorn that Prince,
Whom small Revenge for Injuries received,
Can draw to act a Deed, which all good Men
Abhor. The selling of his Country
To the vilest Vagabonds and Strangers,
Forgive me Charmer, when my Zeal displays
The horrid traiterous Folly of your Father.

Eva.
I can't defend my poor unhappy Sire
For that Act of his, for which I've oft shed Tears:
I have a Soul, that would not sell
The barren part of all my Land, to be
Revenged of Millions of my Enemies:
Bring in Strangers, to cut the Throats of those
Who are my Friends, my Children and my Subjects:
Oh! you Saints, you Martyrs, and you holy Tribe,
Who watch our Actions, and set down our Sins:
Blot off this horrid Fault from out your Books,
And give my Father a repenting Heart.

Rothe.
Thus in my Arms, let me for ever hold thee;
Thou Excellent, thou best, thou more than Woman:
Oh! how the Touch of her inflames my Soul,
Boils up my Blood, and sets my Heart a trembling.

Eva.
Hold Sir let me go, you now grow troublesome.

Rothe.
To my self I'm sure, perphaps I'm so to you;
She pants, she heaves her Breast, ay now's the Time;
The critical the happy Moment's come:
We're all alone, and I must now enjoy her,
May all her Sexes frailty's possess her,
And all my Sexes strength and Charms attend me:

Eva.
For Heaven's sake let go my Hand, what mean you?
Oh how I tremble! would I were gone from hence,
My sinking Spirits, bodes no good to me.

Rothe.
Know Eva, I admire and adore you:
And must enjoy, or die in the Attempt.

Eva.
Ha, what says the Monster? am I left alone
With such a wretch as would attempt my Honour?

Rothe.
Take care of what you say; you've raised
Me to a pitch of Love, and Madness—Madness may
So get the better of my Love, that you
May 'curse the Day, on which you did refuse me.

Eva.
Refuse thee what! thou horrid Monster?
Oh Saints! into what wretch'd Hands I'm fall'n.

Rothe.
Come be not Coy, I want no Stratagem
To heighten up my Love, I'm all Extasie,
Therefore struggle not; but give up thy self
To an amorous Monarch who adores thee.

Eva.
Unhappy Virgin, where will my Sorrow end?
Let go my hands, thou base detested Villain,
Help help, is no one near to give me help.

Rothe.
Forbear my dear, do not exalt your Voice;
There's none that hear you, dare approach my Presence,
I am the Mighty Lord o're all my Slaves:
When I command, no one must disobey;
Be not foolish then, push not on thy Ruin,
But live the favourite Mistress of a King,
Who would do any thing, to gain thy Love.

Eva.
The Powers above, affist and witness for me;
That I detest, abhor, and hate thee so:
That all the punishment thou canst inflict,
And such a Tyrant; does not want Invention,
Would be Charms and extasie, compared to thee,
And I can love, and hug, and worship Hell
E're I could design, to have one thought of thee:
So thus I quit thee; and will seek out Death.
(She struggles and gets from him.)

Rothe.
And when thou'rt dying, then I will enjoy thee;
As you're expiring, make you wish to live.

Eva.
Thou Fiend of Hell, thou Tyrant; I believe thee,
I tremble not, for what thy Tongue can utter:
Go vent thy Malice on my sordid Clay,
My innocent and Righteous Soul, flys up
Above, beyond the reach of thee, and Hell.

Rothe.
Curse on my Folly, how I loyter here;
About the silly trifling Thing a Woman,
I will rush on, and take thee to my Arms,
In spite of all the World, hell and Seas.

He runs towards her, she pulls out a Dagger and wounds him, he struggles with her and gets the Dagger from her.
Eva.
Villian have at thy Heart, thou hast it there.

Rothe.
Thanks to my Arm, no doubt you meant it well:
Thou stumblest at the petty sin of Love;
But yet with lifted Eyes, can murther Kings,
A meek, and innocent, and harmless Maid.
Curse on thy haughty insolence and Pride,
To humble thee, I'll send and Contradict
The Orders that I gave Catholicus:
Will study Cruel new invented Deaths,
To give Cothurnus, and the slave his Friend.

Eva.
No good Angel sure, could guard thee from the blow;
My zealous pious Hand design'd to give thee,
It would have been a meritorious Deed:
Lasting honour's, would have Crown'd my Memory,
I won't repine at what the Fates decree,
Perhaps a Thunderbolt, a flash of Lightning,
Or a trembling Earth, are kept in store for thee.

Rothe.
Rail on, provoke me till I hate thee so,
That I may take a pleasure in your Death;
If I can't raise your blood, I'll let it out.

Catches hold of her and points the Dagger at her.
Eva.
Strike home, my panting Heart is waiting for thee;
Do not miss the Blow, I'll point thee to it.

Rothe.
Thus I'd revenge my self on all thy Race.
Take thy Deaths wound, your Gods I cannot do it!
Yet she must die, but I'll enjoy her first;
See yonder is a Couch, I'll drag her thither.

(She struggles with him.)
Eva.
Kill me, hack me, tear me, and destroy me,
But do not seek to wrong my Innocence;
What have you no Remorse, no thoughts of Heaven?

Rothe.
Thou art the Heaven which I think of now,
Come on, or I will tear thee Limb from Limb:
Ha, I faint, my Blood gushes out apace;
Perhaps the wound you gave, will be my Death,
But I will be reveng'd; Gaurds, Treason; Murder:
Enter Guards
Fly you, call my Chirurgeons and Physitians;
Seize me that Traitoress, force her to yon Chamber,
And lead me to her, where if Life is left;
I will in Spite of all her Cries and Tears,
Rush into her Arms, surfeit in Delight,
And die away with Extasie. But oh!
I faint, a Dizziness o'rewhelms my Eyes;
Make haste, and lay me gently on my Couch.
(they carry him off.

Eva.
Help Murder, oh ye Saints and Angels, try
To save my Innocence, or let me die.
(they hurry her off opposite to him