University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

SCENE, Godrick's House.
GODRICK and ELIZA.
Godrick.
Yes, my Eliza, I confess 'tis just,
This Grief is just for such a Brother's Loss,
Nipt in the Bloom of Life by sad Mischance.

Eliza.
Had Death attack'd him in his common Forms;
Had ling'ring Sickness warn'd us of his End,
And led us on from Fear to sad Despair,
What I expected I had better borne:
I should have join'd in all the solemn Rites,
And mournful Offices of parting Friends:
I should have watch'd him on his dying Couch,
And help'd to close his Eyes.

[Weeps.
Godr.
Indeed 'twas sad:
Deck'd for his Spousals; all his Friends prepar'd
With Gaiety and Love to hail his Joys!
Just then to find their Expectations dash'd,
And see him dress'd a Sacrifice to Death,
To an untimely Death!—'Twas wond'rous hard.

SCENE II.

To them Castor.
Castor.
Nay, weep, weep on, nor stop the mournful Streams,
I come to aid your trickling Tides of Woe:
Heav'n has revers'd its wrathful Phial o'er us,
And Mischief crouds on Mischief! Edmund's Loss
Is follow'd by a greater!—Oh! Eliza,
Our Mother, Harroana,—is no more.

[Weeps.
Eliza.
Oh! Godrick!—

[Falls in his Arms.
Godr.
Forbid it, Heav'n!—but say—

Castor.
My beating Heart will scarce permit my Tongue
To give the sad Relation of her Death:
But thus it was.—Attending sadly home
Our breathless Brother, borne by weeping Servants,
She met us at the Door: Attentive long,
Without a Tear, she gaz'd upon the Corps,
And seem'd almost as void of Life as Sense!
Then fierce at length, Grief's Flood-gates giving way,
A Gust of Passion master'd all her Soul!
Her Eyes shot Fire; and her Voice, enlarg'd,
Like Thunder roar'd with dreadful Exclamations!
She rav'd at Heav'n, at Providence, at me,
At all the World!—as phrenzy'd People rave.
Thence to her own Apartment, wild, she fled,
Where soon the Storm gave way to melting Grief:
A mournful Scene succeeded: Heav'n can tell
How much my own sad Part dissolv'd my Soul,
And sunk me to the Softness of a Woman:
When, hoping to repair her broken Mind,
No lenient Art I left untry'd, to sink
The Swellings of Despair, or boiling Rage:
Nor seem'd my Labour vain; for o'er its Seat
Long hov'ring Reason hung, and well I hop'd
Would, settling, work her Cure.—(Forgive these Tears!
They fall for what I tremble to relate.)
Rage, on a sudden, then return'd so strong
As Words would fail to paint! It was too much
For Sound to utter, or the Soul support!
Groans only found their way, while, unperceiv'd
By me, she snatch'd a Poniard which by chance
Lay near, and plung'd it in her Bosom!—Lo,
With bubbling Streams, her Soul soon issu'd out,
And left her lifeless Body in my Arms.

Godr.
O miserable fall!

Eliza.
O wretched Mother!

Castor.
This Office to a Brother's Care was due;
Comfort, Eliza, is not mine to lend:
Let one, on whom the Ties are stronger far,
If Nature will permit, afford you that.
To Solitude, which which the sad of Heart,
Some Hours at least I go; 'till Reason brings
Her kind Assistance to asswage my Grief,
As yet no welcome Guest.

SCENE III.

Godrick and Eliza.
Eliza.
Nor, oh! to me:
Not Time nor Thought can e'er abate my Sorrows;
A willing Votary to Anguish now:
A Mother's Care, a Brother's Love to lose
In one unhappy Day!—O heavy Lot.

Godr.
In me you have them all: The Husband hence
Shall stretch Affection to its utmost Bound,
And make those Losses light:—Thus in my Arms,
And ever in my Heart shalt thou remain
My only Blessing, only earthly Joy;
And vast the Treasure is!—Come, let me kiss
These trickling Tears away, that so consume
Thy Mind's dear Peace, as falling Drops do Marble.

Eliza.
My Life, my Lord, my only Comfort now;
Source of my Joys, and Easer of my Woes;
On whom my All of Expectation rests:
Beyond my Merit thou wert always kind,
And ever will be found my bright Example
In just Promotion of connubial Bliss!
If 'tis Invasion on a Husband's Right,
O Pardon me this Debt of Duty, paid
A Mother, and a Brother now no more:
Snatch'd from my fond Enjoyment thus by Fate!
The Circumstances of their Deaths so horrid!—

[Weeps.
Godr.
My dear Eliza, I applaud thy Grief:
And, Heav'n can tell, I take a tender Part
In all the Piety or Nature claims.
But guard for me against a sad Excess:
Thou art my Hoard of Comforts; all my Hopes
Are lodg'd in thee, for Peace or Pleasure here:
Then do not kill thy Quiet.—

Eliza.
For thy sake
I'll struggle with the Softness of my Soul,
And conquer in thy Cause: My Godrick, yes,
Thou shalt engross the Care of thy Eliza,
For thou art all to me!—the World is nothing.
But I'll retire:—For lo, where Albert comes,
To give the kind Condolence of a Friend:
Do thou sustain the melancholy Office,
While I avoid Grief's dismal Renovation.

Godr.
My Love, I'll not be long detain'd away;
Oh, think on me; endeavour to be kind.

SCENE IV.

Godrick and Albert.
Godr.
Come, Albert, I have need of Friendship now;
In mine and soft Eliza's Anguish share,
And prove thyself her Partner in my Heart:
A Right, to which with kind Delight she yields,
And makes thee doubly dear in my Esteem.

Albert.
Tho' Edmund's Life had ever made me wretched,
By blasting all my Hopes in Ariana;
Believe me honest, Godrick, when I say,
Sincerely that I mourn his timeless Fate:
A Youth, by Nature's Hand so form'd to please,
And blest with ev'ry Ornament of Mind,
Might well out-bid my best Pretence to Love.
This Praise a Rival yields thee, gentle Shade,
Whose Friendship once I held my proudest Boast,
Till Beauty interpos'd and tore the Band!—
But, oh! my Friend, for Harroana's Fate
The Sluices of my Heart should feed my Eyes!
I could lament her Death in Tears of Blood.

Godr.
Thy honest Grief declares a noble Soul,
And I am proud to read thy perfect Heart,
Then wonder, and applaud such manly Virtues!
Oh, let me take thee more into my Breast
[Embracing.
A fonder Friend to Faith, to Truth and Glory!
Oh, how I love thee, Albert, for this Praise,
And gen'rous Pity o'er a Rival's Corps,
Whose Fall alone could light thy Dawn of Bliss.

Albert.
If ruin'd, Godrick, 'twas superior Worth,
Had been my Fate,—the only Guilt in Edmund.—
Discerning Felix, read in Human Kind,
Had found his Heart possess'd of ev'ry Good,
To answer all his Hopes for Ariana.
'Tis true, the partial Maid had heard my Vows,
And sigh'd with Ardour to my pleaded Passion:
In her I had been blest, if more Desert
In Edmund, and a Family Disgust
(Of long Subsistance from the Broils of State,)
Had spar'd to sway a Father's potent Voice.
But had she blest his Bed, I swear, my Friend,
Tho' pining Anguish would have been my Lot,
And sunk me blooming to the silent Grave,
No Murmur should have past my suff'ring Lips:
They should have breath'd eternal Pray'rs to Heav'n,
To bless those Loves that dealt to me my Fate.

Godr.
Tho', Albert, next my dear Eliza, thou,
Of ev'ry earthly Joy, I prize the most!
With all this mighty Love, I could not wish
To see thee blest, at such a sad Expence
As that of Edmund's Fall! But since the Hand
Of righteous Providence revers'd his Urn,
And finish'd with his Life thy sad Despair,
Let us salute the rising Prospect now!—
Than thou, none worthier Ariana's Love,
And may she crown thy Hopes.

Albert.
So Heav'n ordain,
And Life will be too short to bless its Bounty.

Godr.
Since Hatred to thy Father makes thy Sight
Ungrateful to the Eyes of hoary Felix;
'Till Justice to thy Virtues bends his Heart
To gentle Liking, as it surely must,
Myself will plead thy Cause to Ariana:
And, if my Int'rest can so far prevail,
I'll urge her to a hearing of your Vows:
And may they prove successful.

Albert.
Ever kind!
How,—how shall I repay this gen'rous Care!
Already bankrupt to thy friendly Love.
Oh, Godrick! Words will faintly represent
To what Extravagance I fondly doat!
Exert for me thy most engaging Arts,
You cannot wrong my Passion by Excess.
Tell her my Fate depends upon her Breath,
Life waits Approval, a Repulse is Death.

SCENE V.

The Palace of Felix.
Felix and Castor
Castor.
I hop'd this Day with Gratulations, Sir,
To hail you, not Condolence.—A mutual Loss
We weep in Edmund, but my mournful Cup
Is doubly bitter'd by a Mother's Fate.

Felix.
Most sad indeed. To thine, my Loss is light;
Tho' I am robb'd of much fore-fancy'd Bliss.
Through what variety of pleasing Views,
Had that projected Match conducted Thought!
'Tis true indeed,—As Mortals e'er will prove,—
Our hopeful Plans are all but waking Dreams!
I stand corrected for too daring Schemes
For Satisfactions to my waning Life:
The Father's Fondness, and the Pride of Blood
Have led me to usurp my Maker's Rights,
And snatch at Joys 'tis only his to give:
But Heav'n asserts its Sway! and those fond Steps
On which ambitious Hope presum'd to mount,
Have tumbled me and all my Toils to Earth,
To fear, and grovel in my native Dust.

Castor.
Descant in softer Terms on real Worth;
Your're too severe a Censor on yourself.—
Heav'n sure confers its Blessings for our Joy,
And must, of course, approve our Wish to keep them.
The Honours of a Name 'tis just to guard:
They are a Trust but lent us, which we take,
And should, in Rev'rence to the Donor's Fame,
With Care transmit them down to other Hands.
The Parent's partial Fondness for a Child,
An only Child, can surely be no Crime!
'Twere breaking all the tender Strings of Nature
Which tune our Souls to Harmony and Love!
'Twere bidding us to act against ourselves,
To disregard our Childrens Safety here!
No: Care's a Father's Right;—a pleasing Right,
In which he labours with a home-felt Joy!—
Oh, think not Heav'n condemns a Duty paid,
But still exert your love.

Felix.
Too prone we are
To stifle Reason at a Passion's Call,
And lend a willing Ear to Words that sooth
Our darling Errors: Oh, frail Nature, thou!
To point us out the Goal of Truth, of Bliss!
Yet turn us from its course for ev'ry Bait
Of tinsel Happiness, of gaudy Hope!
Where's now my Stoic Principle of Peace?
Where's now my Christian Fortitude of Mind?
Where's now my Resignation to Heav'n's Will?
Oh, all you Heroes, whose proud Blood I feel!
Oh, Edmund, on whose Worth I built my Hopes!
Oh, Ariana, Object of my Care!
Yes, yes, you have me all: I am a Man;
A vain, frail, tender, foolish, wretched Man.

Castor.
Had Heav'n been pleas'd to spare my Brother's Life,
Your Love, your Honour had been safe in him;
And I had been a sad, but silent Mourner
At his deserv'd Success. But still, howe'er
Below his proud Deserts my humble Merit stands!
My Love for Ariana soars as high
As ever Edmund's could. Those potent Charms,
And all those Virtues that a World admires!
I do not want the Worth to wish my own.
Perhaps this Courtship on a Brother's Grave,
And to his Mistress, Sir, may look unseemly!—
But what, alas, is empty Mode and Form?—
He's now at Peace, and safe from farther Claim:
And sure it cannot be a Guilt in me,
Tho' Tears are trickling o'er a Mother's Coarse,
Whose recent Wound yet stains the pliant Clay,
To point one Look, whence only I can hope
To beam with Comfort this imbitter'd Life!
Who blames the Merchant that secures his Wealth,
While Nature's Ties exact his kind Concern?—
Here, Sir, you see the last surviving Shoot
From that fam'd Trunk, on which you chose to hang
The relique Honours of your noble House:
Nor shall for me the Father's Fondness suffer;
I love your Ariana, doat to Death:
My Joys on Earth, if not my Peace hereafter,
Depend upon her Smiles: Without her Love,
Life will be worse than Death! and Earth an Hell.

Felix,
'Twere, Castor, too severe, to blame in you
A human Frailty, while I mourn my own:
To plead your Passion take a Father's leave,
And rest assur'd my Voice shall second thine
In all your fond Requests. To Edmund's Love,
Sure none more worthy to succeed than you:
And better Fate attend you.

Castor.
Heav'n repay
This gen'rous Kindness, Sir, with Years of Joy:
And hence be sure, in Castor's faithful Heart,
That next my Care for Ariana's Bliss,
Shall ever rise my Gratitude to you.
I go, my Lord, to ponder on this Theme,
And study to deserve your Daughter's Love!
If Opportunity should time the Task
Vouchsafe, a Father's Int'rest in my Favour:
Let Ariana know how just my Suit,
How strong my Wishes, and how fierce my Flame!
So shall the gentle Maid, if e'er she deigns
To crown my Ardours and compleat my Hopes,
Bless that good Providence which turn'd your Thoughts
To favour One, whose only good is hers:
Who lives but to promote her Weal on Earth,
To court her Smiles, and blessing to be blest.

SCENE VI.

Felix
Solus.
How sudden do our Prospects vary here!
And how uncertain ev'ry Good we boast!—
Hope oft deceives us; and our very Joys
Shrink with Fruition;—pall, and rust away.
How wise are we in Thought!—how weak in Practice!
Our very Virtue, like our Will, is—nothing.
Frail Nature, take thy course! 'tis almost vain
To struggle and oppose thee:—What is Life?
What all its Comforts, but delusive Dreams,
That play on Fancy with a Meteor Flame
Of empty, airy Good!—I could almost
Resolve to lose myself in stupid Ease,
And dull Insensibility to Thought:
Give up this Reason, ev'ry wretched Good,
And to its Merits treat a loathsom Being!—
Hah!—whence this impious Turn?—rouze, Virtue, up;
And let me, like a Man, resolve to bear
Misfortune, Disappointment, Change and Chance.
Is Edmund dead?—I'll look yet farther on:
Yes, Castor shall fill up Succession's Gap,
And heir my Wealth and Honours:—Dullness, off;—
Life's Burthen hitherto I've patient borne;
And now, so near my Journey's end, to flinch!—
I will, with Patience, bear this dim Decline,
And spread, tho' faint, a Glory to the last!
I'll set in Honour! have no vulgar Grave.

SCENE VII.

Felix and Ariana.
Felix.
Come, Ariana, and relieve my Mind;
Thou only Darling of a Father's Hopes,
And pleasing Source of all my tender Cares:
For thee, my Child, my anxious Heart is torn;
I fear to leave the World, with thee expos'd
To Fraud, to Malice, all the Ills that wait
The Charms of Beauty, and the Pomp of Wealth:
Oh, who'll protect thee, innocent and weak,
Against the Cunning of designing Men!
In Edmund's love I hop'd thy Safety sure,—
Now all those Hopes are lost.

Ariana.
My dearest Father,
Still may you live my best and safest Guard;
Beneath whose Shelter long I hope to thrive;
Till, by your Precepts firmly fortify'd,
I dare to brave the World and all its Arts.
But, oh, on Heav'n rely, whose tender Care
Will still assist the well-inclin'd of Heart;
Whose holy Angels, Guardians of the Just,
Shall hover round me, and direct my Course.

Felix.
I would, my Child, from Danger safe behold thee,
Lodg'd in the Arms of some deserving Man:
Your Edmund has a Brother yet survives,
Who with his Honours too may heir his Virtues;
To him my Ariana,—

Ariana.
Hah!—Pardon, Sir,
However worthy of his Birth and Fortune,
If Castor is a Man I cannot love.
Perhaps it is my Nature's Fault; but still
Whene'er his Image rises in my Mind,
I feel a shudd'ring Horror seize my Soul!
And still his Sight produces gloomy Thoughts.

Felix.
'Tis sickly Fancy all: A Female Weakness!—
Perhaps the Bodings of a Virgin Heart.—
Sometimes a Passion seems to operate
Almost in Contradiction to itself;
As oft it brings its Opposite in play
To strive, and bear full hard upon its Rule.
Fear runs abreast with Hope! and love, we know,
Is ever follow'd close by Jealousy;
And only changes to the fellest Hate!
A trembling Apprehension always waits
Our highest Joys! Observe the raptur'd Bride,
And you will find she glows, she scarce knows why!
Interpret then these Motions kindly, Child,
They may but prove the Preludes to thy Bliss.

Ariana.
All those Affections, Sir, are pleasing Pains;
A kind of murm'ring Joys, that gently trill
Along the Veins, and beat upon the Heart!
But what I feel, is of a Nature wide
From Friendly-boding, 'tis a fixt Disgust,
A fell Antipathy, that seems to rise
From dread, discordant Souls.

Felix.
Time may alter
The Streams of Passion, as it often does;
And Disposition makes a strong Advance,
My Ariana, in all worldly Bliss.
And let me hope no Passion will prevail
On thee to taint, by an unworthy Match,
The greatness of our Blood. A Briton born,
My Ariana, is a glorious Name!
My Country's Honour glows in ev'ry Vein,
And Fame and Greatness point my present Choice:
An Ancestry of Heroes Castor boasts,
Fair Freedom's Champions, and the Friends of Truth!
Unlike the sordid Tribe, whose slavish Necks
Are basely bow'd to Tyranny and Shame.
Oh, tender Object of this soft Concern,
I have no other Business now with Life
Than to resign thee to a juster Care:
When that is done, I'll fold my Glories up,
And sink with pleasure to the silent Grave.—
Then think, my Child, a Parent's Peace depends
On thy Resolves: Reflect what Care you owe
The watchful Guardian of your tender Youth,
And pay that Kindness in Obedience now.

SCENE VIII.

Ariana
Sola.