University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

SCENE, A Room in the Palace of Felix, a Table with Lights.
Felix
Solus.
Eliza , Castor, wounded in the Garden!—
My Daughter there with Albert and the Husband!—
This wears a Face of Treason;—Damn'd, damn'd Guilt!
And I will search it to the bottom.—Hoa!
Who waits there?—Go send my Daughter to me.
[A Servant appears at the Door, and retires.
O fell Suspicion, rack not thus my Mind;
If I am wretched in an only Child,
Too soon Conviction will destroy my Peace;
And make me curse the Hour that gave me Birth;
Or that which crown'd my Hopes in Ariana's.
But see, she comes; and with a Face of Sorrow
That speaks, as one would think, a guiltless Soul.
But Looks are all deceitful; and the Eyes
Oft ill express the Motions of the Heart.

SCENE II.

Felix and Ariana.
Felix.
O Ariana! do I live to see
My Peace thus murder'd, and my Hopes destroy'd
By her I nourish'd as my darling Joy?
On thee my Age with Fondness has reclin'd:
This hoary Head, these feeble Hands, with care
Had rear'd thee up to prop their failing Years:
Thou wert the Hoard of Comforts I had heap'd
In Days of Vigour to refresh Decay:
To lead me chearful thro' the Vale of Tears;
To soften Pain, and smooth the Bed of Death.
And do my aged Eyes, at last, behold thee
Thus fallen off from ev'ry Sense of Duty
Thy gray-hair'd Father, or thy God exacts!
Oh, why am I thus curst, to see my Child,
My only Child a Reprobate to Grace!
To strip my parting Soul of all its Peace,
And send me down with Sorrow to the Grave.

Aria.
What means my Father? Whence this Flood of Anguish?
And wherefore am I thus accus'd of Guilt?
What have I done? Wherein have I offended?

Felix.
Hah! canst thou ask? When Streams of Blood yet run,
And Cries of Murder echo thro' my House!
When Wives are butcher'd, and when Brothers fall,
And rank Adulteries are loud proclaim'd!
Whence is this Scene of horrid Mischief? say;
Whence, but from Crimes thou wert forewarn'd to shun?

Aria.
Here Saints and Angels witness to the Truth,
Who see the secret Workings of the Soul;
Who know our hidden Thoughts, and ev'ry Wish,
Bear witness all, if still my Virgin Heart
From ev'ry foul Pollution's not as free
As when at first it glow'd with vital Heat.

Felix.
Hast thou not broke the Link of filial Duty
By Disobedience to my just Commands?
And can I now rely on ought thou say'st?—
Tho' Oaths and Imprecations join their force,
Thy Words appear no more than idle Tales.
A Father's Hatred and Injunctions fail'd
To awe thy Soul from Rebel Albert's Love:
As well might Conscience and the Grace of Heav'n
Be trampled down in Goatish Godrick's Cause:
O Horror of Conviction to my Soul.—

Aria.
Behold, unchang'd, my Visage bears the Shock
Of Accusations, with so foul a Stain,
As Infamy can hardly go beyond!
Does this express my Guilt or Innocence?
Where is the fault'ring Tongue? the crimson Glow,
And livid Paleness in alternate Rule?
Where is the downcast Eye? unsteady Look?
And all Appearances of conscious Shame?

Felix.
All those are Motions young Practitioners
With Consciences unsear'd, perhaps may feel:
But harden'd Sinners wear a Front of Brass;
And are beyond Confusion, or Surprize:
This serves but to convince a weeping Father,
Thou hast outsoar'd his strongest Fears in Guilt.

Aria.
O thou chaste Matron! from whose spotless Womb
I sprang to Life in an unhappy Day;
If Souls in Glory can behold the Woes,
Or feel the Joys of those they lov'd on Earth,
With fond, maternal Care assist me now
To purge that Fame which, so unjustly stain'd,
May, by Reflexion, cast a Shade on thine!
Oh! make my Name—

Felix.
Forbear, I cannot hear
So soul a Voice invoke so pure a Soul.
Oh, happy thou, dear Saint, who, now at ease,
Hast 'scap'd those Darts of Anguish, that distract
My aged Heart; and urge these wither'd Hands
To tear the Honours of a hoary Head
I wish, with bitter Tears, was laid in Dust:
Then I should nothing know of all this Guilt,
And all this foul Dishonour to my Name;
Thy Crimes would fail to harrow up my Grave;—
My Ashes would have Peace.—

Aria.
Oh, killing Sounds:
Yet, ere my Sorrows quench this vital Flame,
Oh, give me Heav'n to prove my Innocence:
Racks, Torments let me bear; but not the Taint
Of Infamy, for Crimes my Soul abhors.

Felix.
Tho', as a Miser eyes his plunder'd Hoard,
From my Enjoyment I had seen thee borne
The guiltless Victim of an early Grave;
There to be lost with yet-remember'd Chiefs,
With Maids and Matrons, long the Themes of Praise!
Illustrious Names! whose Virtue you've betray'd,
Whose Glory sully'd, and whose Fame defil'd:—
Oh! had my aged Eyes beheld thee dead:
The tender Tears which down my Cheeks had roll'd,
Would have been Balm to Pangs I now endure!
The Satisfaction then, at least, I'd prov'd,
To see thee sink in honourable Dust,
And end, with Dignity, a noble Line
That had, for Ages, flourish'd with Renown.
The last strong Buttress yielding, so, the Pile,
The venerable Pile o'erspreads the Earth,
Magnificent in Ruins! Grateful, then,
Our noblest Matrons would have deck'd thy Grave!
Our noblest Virgins, chaunted Hymns of Praise!—
I had but liv'd to pay a Parent's Debt
Of decent Grief, and sunk myself to Rest,
To everlasting, honourable Rest.
But what is now my hard, my dreadful Doom!
Thy Guilt deals all these agonizing Throes!
And, torn with Torment, hurls me down to Death.
And there, if Mem'ry of past Wrongs subsists,
'Twill ev'n imbitter all the Joys of Heav'n!
Oh, fatal Fall from Innocence and Duty:
Oh, Fiend! but born to damn a Father's Peace.

Aria.
Support me, Heav'n! support my sinking Soul.

SCENE III.

To them a Servant.
Serv.
Oh, force of Conscience on the guilty Mind!
That wounded Castor, Sir, within, grown wild,
In bitter Ravings, has confest such Crimes
As fill his Hearers Souls with dread Amaze.

Felix.
Hah! Castor raving!—and his Guilt the Cause?—

Serv.
As wild as Winter Winds his Passions rage!
And Horror dwells on ev'ry thing he says.
His Father's, Mother's, Brother's, Sister's Deaths
He has confest the Mischiefs of his Hand.

Felix.
Monstrous Villain! most accomplish'd Fiend!
Oh, how Reflexion now distracts my Soul!
'Twas he that fill'd my Mind with foul Suspicions:—
Forgive, my Child, those Starts of Savage Passion,
Whose Guilt provokes my Tears.—

Aria.
Oh, spare them, Sir!—
Or turn their Streams to murder'd Innocence,
Eliza, Edmund, Harroana, all
The bleeding Victims of a Monster's Rage.

Felix.
Stop, stop, my Thought, from guilty Progress now:
Nor dare accuse eternal Providence,
For suff'ring such a Villain to commit,
With dire Success, these most unheard-of Crimes!
But, lo, at length the tardy Vengeance comes,
And Justice arms the Fury 'gainst himself.
But shew me, lead me to the horrid Sight.
Where Scorpion Conscience holds her dreary Rule
Triumphant o'er her Tyrant Master now!
This is a Time the Wicked all will find,
Who sleep in Guilt, and think they sin secure.

SCENE IV.

Ariana Sola.
Aria.
What can I do? and whither shall I go?
Oh, poor Eliza! Oh, my wounded Heart,
How wilt thou pay the Duties of a Friend.
Oh, Pardon, wretched Woman, that thus long
My own Distress with-held my Tears for thee:
Who now could weep whole Oceans at thy Fate.
But I must go, tho' Heav'n alone can tell
How little fit, to pay the friendly Rites.

SCENE V.

Eliza is discover'd sitting in a Chair, bloody and disorder'd, Women attending. Godrick and Albert standing by.
Eliza.
Alas, my Virgins, all your Care's in vain;
Have not the Artists each pronounc'd me lost?
And fainting Nature warns me of my End:
Ev'n Rage, the Tyrant Passion, now gives way;
And Pity, and Forgiveness steal upon me.
Godrick, come near, and take my Pardon thou,
Ev'n for thy last, and sure thy worst Offence.
Nay, hold my Tears!—But, lo, they will have way!—
And Female Softness urges my Complaint.
How, Godrick, could you wrong so kind a Heart?
And doubly wound me in a guilty Friend?—
With her; with Ariana to be base!
And even recent from my just Complaints!—
Thou saw'st with what Distress my Soul was wrung!—
But virtuous Woe is Sport to guilty Souls.

Godr.
Hah! I remember well your fond Complaint!
As causeless then, as you accuse me now:
Alas, my Life, your Ariana's just:
Her Virtue fair as is her Angel Form!
Nor has my Heart e'er wander'd ev'n in Thought,
But, chastely just, been faithful to thy Love.
Ah,—have thy Fears for me destroy'd thy Life?—

Eliza.
Oh, Godrick, hold; nor brave eternal Wrath;
A Time will come, to give severe Account
For all the Guilt and Folly of our Lives:
Upon the Verge of Life, as now I stand,
I fear for Crimes ev'n of the slightest Dye:
You, once will think as I do; when the Soul
Begins to shake away this cumb'rous Dust,
And makes Eternity her dreadful View!—
Then double not thy Guilt by vain Excuse;
You have my Pardon;—now, no more can wrong me;
And Heav'n be kind as I.—

Godr.
My dying Love,
Oh, leave me not perplext, and mad with Doubt;—
Oh, do not go, and think I could be false:
By that eternal Throne which soon you'll see!
By all the Saints our Advocates around it!
By all my Hopes of everlasting Bliss!
I never broke my Marriage Bond of Truth.

Eliza.
Oh! do not, do not torture thus my Soul;
Already on the wing from Earth and thee.
Repent, repent my Husband, and be safe.
And here, to stop thy course to farther Guilt,
And flash Conviction on thy Heart at once,
Know that my Eyes, my Ears have prov'd thee false.
I saw your Gloatings, heard your am'rous Parle,
Th'Appointment, and your punctual Meeting to't;
Witness this Slaughter, where I meant thy own.
Castor, the first Revealer of your Crimes,
Receiv'd a bad Return for Love to me.

[Weeps.
Godr.
Amazement racks me, Albert, witness here,
Thou Cause, tho' innocent of this Mishap,
If all my Court to wretched Ariana
Was not for thee, and at thy fond Request?
The Meeting thine?—Oh, miserable me!
Thy Brother's Suit to that afflicted Maid
Was all the Cause that kept this Bus'ness from thee:
And he, foul Fiend, had dasht us all on Fate.

Eliza.
Hah, have I causeless been that jealous Fury!

Albert.
Am I the Spring of all these poignant Woes?
Oh murder'd Innocence, can Life atone
For my destructive Passion, which betray'd
Thy gentle Heart to Misery, to Death.

Eliza.
Cease, Albert, to lament a Wretch, whose Crimes
Have justly drawn this Vengeance from above.
Oh, Godrick, trace the Hand of Mercy here!
How has my Dagger paid the Debt of Guilt!
How sav'd from Violence thy spotless Life!
And me from Nature's blackest, foulest Crime!
Wretch that I am!—Oh, fall upon your Knees,
And pray Forgiveness to your wicked Wife.
And see another injur'd Creature comes,
To claim Remorse and Horror from my Heart.

SCENE VI.

To them Ariana.
Aria.
My dearest Friend.

Eliza.
Ah, Ariana, come,
Pronounce my Pardon while I've Life to take it.
How have I wrong'd thy Truth in guilty Thought!
But Heav'n will pay thee in a better Love.

Aria.
My Soul dissolves for thy unhappy Fate.
Matilda has inform'd me of the Tale
Thy wicked Brother's Ravings have reveal'd!

Eliza.
Hah!—

Aria.
Where Murders, Parricides so foul appear!
Thy Slaughter seems almost the least, as last:
But must by me with bitter Tears be mourn'd,
In that, his most unhappy Instrument.

[Weeps.
Eliza.
Behold, Eliza, how thy Fall is wept!
Was ever Woman curst before like me,
To wrong so kind a Husband! just a Friend!—
Oh, Ariana, warn our weaker Sex
Against the Venom of a jealous Heart:
Let Wives beware of foul Suspicion's Taint;
It is a coward Serpent, which, immur'd,
Preys on its Breeder in a deathless Pain:
Then, teach the Fair, in Friendship's sacred Bands
To follow thee, and be securely blest.

SCENE the Last.

Godrick, Albert, Eliza, Ariana and Felix.
Felix.
Heav'n shield us from the Arts of wicked Men,
And guard all Consciences from gauling Guilt:
Expiring yonder, has that Parricide
Discover'd Crimes would ev'n startle Fiends!
And show'd such dreadful, agonizing Pangs,
As sure would fright the hardest Soul from Sin.
Dying, he bellow'd out his dread Remorse,
And wreath'd with seeming Anguish of the Soul
'Till Breath had quite forsook him.

Eliza.
Then he's gone!
Poor, guilty Wretch, he's gone to his Account;
And I am warn'd to mine.

Godr.
Oh, let me print this kiss upon thy Lips,
And send my Soul associate hence with yours.

Eliza.
Forbear this Tenderness my better self,
And let me hope Forgiveness of my Wrongs
To you, to Ariana, and to all.—

Aria.
Thus fondly folded in my eager Arms,
Receive a thousand Blessings to thy Soul,
My dearest, dying Friend.

[Weeps.
Eliza.
A long adieu!
[Kisses her.
Now Godrick, now for thee! I'm going now.

Godr.
Eternal Blessings wait thee!—Oh, my Love.

[Falls in her Arms.
Eliz.
Now I am blest indeed! to hold thee thus!
I hope no greater Joy.

[Dies.
Godr.
Dead! breathless! dead!
But here, thus bending o'er thy lifeless Clay,
I'll mourn away my miserable Being.

Albert.
And wilt thou go, devoted to the Grave?
Has gentle Friendship no inviting Joys?
Yes, thou shalt live to share in many Days
Of social Comforts, and of pleasing Cares.

Godr.
Forbear, my Friend, do thou remain at rest,
And crown'd with lovely Ariana live.
Oh, venerable Felix, hear me plead
This fond, this last Request I e'er shall urge:
Make Albert happy in your Daughter's love.
An honest, equal Friend to both asserts,
No Virtues ever made a fairer Claim
To Greatness, Honour and the World's Esteem,
Than those that have engag'd this Virgins Heart:
No longer then delay their Bliss and thine,
But all be happy as a Friend can hope.
While, near this Place, upon the Sea-beat Shore,
Within a solemn Mansion, sacred made
To holy Raptures, and to Rules austere,
I'll spend my Days among religious Men,
And think no more of Pleasure and the World.

Felix.
I will forbear to struggle on with Fate,
Heav'n has decreed their Loves, and I submit:
With this Embrace then, Albert, take thy Wish,
No longer now my Enemy but Son:
Oh, be you blest in one anothers Arms,
Reflecting Peace and Comfort to my Age.
And thou, sad Exile from the World and Sin,
Enjoy in Bliss thy Days of Life to come.
Oh, when my hoary Head is laid in Earth,
And sunk again to its Primæval State,
As very shortly now, I trust 'twill be;
Preserve, my Children, ever in your Minds,
This sad Example of our frail Dependence!
That no bright Virtue can insure a Bliss,
No Godrick challenge here a lasting Joy.
Then point your Views beyond, to Realms of Light,
Where Love's eternal Spring can feel no Blight:
Where no base Castor can his Arts employ:
Where round in Circles runs immortal Joy!
There fix your Eyes, make there Possession sure;
Whence Hope alone all mortal Griefs can cure.