University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

SCENE, a Room in the Palace of Felix.
ELIZA and ARIANA splendidly attired.
Eliza.
With Rapture let me hail the happy Day,
And Ariana, fairest of her kind,
Who crown the Wishes of our noble House,
Enriching hence our long-illustrious Blood.
Thro' all the verdant Vales of fertile Kent,
Thro' all the Bounds of conquer'd Britain, none
Have boasted Worth beyond my Ancestors,
Save that great Line which Ariana closes;
Whose brave Atchievements, all their blooming Honours,
She gives us, with the Charms of half her Sex.

Aria.

Eliza.

SCENE II.

To them Felix.
Felix.
Good-day, my Child; and fair Eliza hail:
Heav'n's Blessings on you both; and on us all.
Your Charms, my Ariana, all receive
Addition from this Elegance of Dress!
Methinks you're wond'rous fair! and seem at ease!
Why will not Nature let me join my Joys;
But I have none to lend.

[Sighing.
Aria.
What mean you, Sir?
Ah, whence this sudden Change from gay to grave?
But yester-night you wore another look,
And seem'd to feel for my approaching Nuptials,
Almost a Bridegroom's Joy! admitting that
The fond, romantic Poets give their Lovers.

Felix.
Reflexion since, my Child, has dampt the Flame:
I have survey'd, in thought, this World of Pleasure!
And find how near Alliance Rapture bears
To Anguish and Contrition. Earthly Joys
When highest borne, like tuneful Notes,
Are nearest Discord's Verge: So Heav'n ordains,
To temper Pride, and hint to human Hearts
Our Hopes should soar beyond Mortality.

Aria.
This moral Lesson, Sir, you long have taught me:
By yours, my Passions so are regulated
As ne'er to vie with Reason for Enjoyment.
Heav'n knows, with all this gaiety of look,
My Heart's but meerly warm'd to chaste Approval:
Young Edmund meets Esteem, not boiling Blood,
With ardent Hopes to satiate boist'rous Passion.
But should Heav'n think my Wishes stretch too far,
And humble for that high Offence my Soul:
I'd with becoming Duty learn to bear
Its righteous Chastisements, whate'er the Woe.
But Time has been when you have taught your Daughter
To place just Confidence for modest Joys
On gracious Providence. You, Sir, have prov'd
What 'tis to live, to love, and unimbitter'd.

Felix.
I have indeed: with Bounty, Heav'n has dealt
To me calm Joys, and Pleasures unallay'd:
Its Mercies I confess with grateful Soul.
But look around, how few have far'd like me!
See Hymen curs'd with Discord, Jealousy,
And ev'ry Bane to human Happiness.
I know thy Disposition well, my Child;
I know thee humble, grateful, gen'rous, just,
Endow'd with all a Husband's Hopes can reach!
But still—perhaps a Father's Fondness errs,
I own I tremble for this Change of State.
Who knows, my Darling, but I may behold thee
Abus'd, forsaken, all that wretched Women
May dread, and often feel from Tyrant Mates!
I know my kind, and know the force of Passions.

Eliza.
Here let a Sister's Voice, Sir, interpose,
And blast these growing Fears for Edmund's Worth:
I know him of a grateful, gentle Soul,
Compassionate and kind! No boiling Wrath,
Or canker'd Malice e'er deform his Speech,
Disturb his Bosom, or contract his Brow!
No bright Endowment Ariana boasts
Will ever pine unchear'd by his Affection;
His fair Esteem shall nourish ev'ry Virtue,
And bring a Harvest worthy all your Hopes.

Felix.
Forgive these Bodings of a Parent's Heart;
'Tis Nature's Fault that I am guilty thus:
Forgive, Eliza, thou, whose Soul has prov'd
All social Virtue, and all social Bliss!
Fame speaks thy Brother worthy our Esteem,
And more than now thy Sister-Voice asserts;
But Flesh, alas, is frail, and thence proceeds,
Perhaps, this partial Care:—and vain it is!
Our Lot, or good, or bad, 'tis Heav'n appoints,
And Heav'n's Decrees are righteous!—but the best
Will mourn for Misery, if not complain:
Such is the Imperfection of our Nature,
In all Conditions, ever prone to err.
Yes, fair Eliza, should thy Brother's Virtues
Shame all the past, and mount to such a height
As future Emulation ne'er will reach!
Yet this is no Security from Woe:
The Tenure's frail by which we hold our Bliss;
And equal to the Pangs of suff'ring Want
Are surely those that wait Enjoyment's Loss.

Aria.
To all the wise Decrees of righteous Heav'n,
With humble Duty, I shall e'er submit,
Nor impiously repine.

Felix.
Hah!—so resolv'd!
Howe'er severe! and could'st thou bear its Shocks?
Presumptuous Girl!—Suppose a Bolt descend,
And blast thy now expected Joys?—Suppose
You saw your Bridegroom breathless at your Feet,
And all your Views of Pleasure, Comfort, dead!
Say then how strong would Resignation stand
Against Grief's driving Torrent? Ah, unprov'd,
Thy speculative Virtue there would shrink.

Aria.
Augment the Woes! compleat the dismal Scene!
And to a breathless Bridegroom, add the sight
Of all the Joys I ever yet have known,
A Sacrifice to Death in thee, my Father!
A Sigh might heave, a silent Tear descend,
I might lament, but never would accuse:
Ev'n then should Grief a Victim fall to Hope
For Restoration in another World.

Felix.
My darling Child! Oh, let these Tears express,
And this Embrace, how much my Soul is joy'd
For this Display of Virtue!—Prove it now,
For 'till I'd try'd thy Strength I fear'd to tell,
Indeed a dismal Truth!—thy Edmund's dead!

Aria.
Ah!

[Faints.
Eliza.
O Heav'ns!

[Weeps.
Felix.
Help me, Eliza, help, support my Child:
Grief's sudden Transport has o'ercome her quite,
And nipt her Beauties like a blasted Flower!
So—she revives! how fares it Ariana?

Aria.
I'm wond'rous sick:—but is it Truth you've utter'd?
Or was it, Sir, a fond Device to try
How far my boasted Fortitude was real?

Felix.
Oh, that it was no more!—but rear thy Head,
Recover Breath, and thou shalt hear the Tale.
Here sit thee down: How art thou now, my Child?

Aria.
I'm something better: yet I'm wond'rous faint.

Felix.
It was my Fault: for tho' I came prepar'd
With Art and Caution to unwind the Clue,
And steal a sad Discovery upon thee,
But where our Passions strongly operate,
Our Reason always fails!—Abrupt came out
The Secret, and Surprise alas o'ercame thee.

Aria.
How happen'd, Sir, this sure untimely blast?

Felix.
Untimely blast indeed!—It happen'd thus.
About an Hour ago th'ill-fated Youth,
In all the Splendor of a Bridegroom drest,
Partook a chearful Meal: then, musing, walk'd
Within the Grove, whose Border Medway laves:
There Castor, wand'ring too by Chance, beheld him
In Contemplation lost: Poor, good young Man,
His Mind, perhaps, was running o'er the Scene
Of his expected Joys! unheedful, when
The Ground, unfaithful to his Foot, o'erthrew him,
And plung'd him in the Waves! his Brother thrice
Beheld him struggling rise, as to his Aid
With pious Haste he ran; the bubbling Stream
Betray'd his last Descent, where Castor plung'd,
And dragg'd him from the Bottom: Vain the Toil,
Fraternal Friendship vain, for Life was fled.

Eliza.
O, Edmund, my dear Brother, oh!

[Weeps.
Felix.
'Tis well!—
Those Tears, my Daughter, are a Tribute due
To so much blasted Virtue! Heav'n, that knows
The Weakness of our Natures, will forgive,
Nay must applaud Love's Debt, when decent paid:
Nor can the bravest Mortal blame the Tear
Which glitters on the Bier of fallen Worth.
Some Hours to soothing Sadness here are due,
O'er which paternal Love has sure no right,
And Friendship best can share.—Eliza, thou,
When Anguish for a Brother's Loss gives way,
Exert Affection here: And be you both
Each other's Comfort in your mutual Woe.

SCENE III.

Eliza and Ariana.
Eliza.
Alas, my Consolation will be faint,
Unable to support my own Affliction.
Poor Widow'd-Maid!—What Comfort can I lend,
Who need myself its Aid from friendly Zeal!
But Side by Side we'll sit, and mix our Woes,
A Stream composing worthy Edmund's Fall!—
Sure Heav'n, in grudging, clipt his Thread of Life,
Foreseeing that had made our Bliss compleat!
O partial Distribution!—

Aria.
Eliza, hold:—
Forbear to tax th'eternal Hand of Truth,
Whose Deeds are all-unsearchable to us!
Our finite Knowledge cannot comprehend
The Principles of an unbounded Sway:
Weak and disjointed are our judging Laws,
And therefore vain and impious. Gentle Shade,
Whose timeless Fate we mourn; much happier thou,
Enlarg'd from Clay, perhaps dost now behold
The Springs, the Causes, and the just Effects
Of Nature, working by her gen'ral Rules!
If Spirits such as thee can look on Earth,
And see the Follies of what once you were!
Take these sad Sorrows, now bestow'd in vain,
And may our Loss be thy eternal Gain.

SCENE IV.

The House of Harroana.
Harroana sitting in Disorder, Castor standing by her.
Harro.
Fly, Monster, from my Sight, nor tempt my Rage,
Lest I from Justice snatch th'avenging Sword,
And pay thy bloody barb'rous Acts in kind.
My Eyes beheld the Parricide committed!
I from my Window saw the foul Assault
That prov'd thy Brother's Fate!—So Heav'n ordain'd
That I should be its Instrument of Vengeance!
And Racks, and Whips, and Tortures shalt thou prove,
To make thy Death as bitter to thy Soul
As this vile Deed has made a Mother's Life.

Castor.
The Storm must have its way:—Anon, the Wind
Will die into a Calm with gentle Showers.
[Aside.
Ah! Madam, for your own dear Peace of Mind,
Restrain this Gust of Passion.—Hear me speak.—

Harro.
Can all the Eloquence that ever crown'd
The happiest Speaker, and best-tutor'd Mind
Abate the Horror that thy Guilt excites?
Oh, when my Edmund fell, sure Providence
Its Charge neglected, for a Blast like that,
Of Virtue, Nature never felt before.

[Weeps.
Castor.
'Twas Nature's Fault, to that you owe my Crime:
The Whirl of Passion, for a Moment, quell'd
Opposing Reason's Struggles!—Had I thought,
One Minute's Pause had sav'd my Soul this Guilt,
And all my Torment now from sad Remorse.
What will not disappointed Love attempt?
Declare all you who ever felt its Force!
'Twas Ariana's Charms that urg'd my Hand,
'Twas Edmund's flat Repulse to pleaded Passion
Which gave that Hand its Strength!—Oh, had I dy'd,
Pin'd, languish'd Ages in the worst Despair!
I'd do it now, could that recall his Breath.
I ask not yours, and scarcely can I hope
That Heav'n will pardon what myself condemn:
But Years of Penance may perhaps atone.—

Harro.
Not Ages will. There shall the righteous Rod
Be sure to second that of Justice here.
For what unhappy Guilt of mine, ye Pow'rs,
Are all these Loads of Sorrow heap'd upon me?
Devoted to Obedience have I past
Life's tedious Travel, innocent in Will.
Oh! wherefore did I teem with such a Monster?
Whose Spark of Life the fellest Fiend sure struck,
And with the animating Flame infus'd
Its own accursed Nature!—Rive me here
Another everlasting weeping Stone,
(As Poets feign the Grecian Matron turn'd!)
Hence let my Tears an endless Stream supply,
And spread my Sorrows wide as Nature's Bounds,
For gen'ral Horror!—Universal Pity!—
Mine are uncommon Woes!—

[Weeps.
Castor.
Hold yet, my Heart,
And ere you burst, oh! let a Mother know
How ample is thy Flame of filial Love!
Of Social!—What an honest Anguish now
Dissolves thee, for one Act of conscious Guilt!
Tho' sad my Crime, a Parent's Tears shall fall
In pity to my Fate!—And own, how far,
To what a wond'rous Length, by sad Surprize,
A Passion may betray the gentlest Nature.

Harro.
My Edmund had a Soul replete with all
The softest, kindest of his Sex could boast!
With glad Obedience would he ready wait,
And oft' forestall an anxious Parent's Will!
No Wish of mine could hardly gain a Birth,
Before his Duty made Fruition sure!
His Piety abated all my Griefs,
And all my Joys it doubled.—Adeldred!
My widow'd Tears were wip'd away for thee!
His filial Love made ev'n thy Loss be born.
And where's my Comfort now?

[Weeps.
Castor.
Here turn your Eyes,
And see a Son to Duty so devoted!—

Harro.
No, thou wert always wicked and perverse,
No kind of Good was ever found about thee.
O! Adeldred, thy Soul prophetic prov'd,
When, with Paternal Anguish, you pronounc'd
Woes from his unauspicious Dawn of Life.
From Crime to Crime he has succeeded on,
To dire Fraternal Slaughter!—One black Guilt
Remains, thou fiend-like Wretch, for Execution,
To make thee challenge Hell's severest Flame;
And that's to murder me!—Come, draw thy Sword,
And leave no Crime unprov'd that can enhance
Thy Claim to sure Damnation!—Nero yet,
The Roman Monster, has in Guilt outstript thee,
He murder'd Agrippina!—

Castor.
In pity cease,
Or I shall soon believe myself the Wretch
Your fierce Resentment paints me.

Harro.
Urge I ought
That shames a Mother's Voice?—Truth cannot sure.
What kind of Guilt art thou a Stranger to?
Thy First was Disobedience! then Injustice:
Thy brutal Lust next led thee to abuse
An honest Neighbour's Bed: Thy Father's Grief,
For that foul Action, was I fear his Fate.—
O Heav'ns! Remembrance now distracts my Soul
With Terror for my Husband's sudden Death!
That Day, when honest Rage provok'd his Vows
To leave thee to the World as bare of Wealth
As is thy Soul of Virtue! then, that Night,
As by my Side he lay, he breath'd his last,
Unconscious I of Danger! nought appear'd,
No Sign of Treachery: But, oh!—alas!
Who knows what Spells, what Charms, what Drugs might do,
With such an Instrument as thou to urge them!
I feel Conviction flashing on my Mind
That you destroy'd your Father.—

Castor.
Sudden Death's not strange—
My Father fell—Life is a frail Possession!
Many more—all die not of a Fever.—

Harro.
Thy fault'ring Tongue betrays thy guilty Soul!
By Heav'n, I've stumbled on too sad a Truth,
And caught thee unprepar'd for Art's Evasion!
'Tis well:—My Rage were vain, and Tears may fall
For lighter Woes, and Scenes of common Horror;
I am above them now: Collected thus,
I'll see the Sword of Justice take its course,
And then, perhaps, may find myself again
Resolve into a weeping Wife and Mother.
Thence, what few Days my weight of Woes afford
I'll spend, with Heav'n's Permission, to atone
For giving birth to so accurs'd a Monster.

Castor.
'Tis true indeed; she took me unawares!
And Guilt's so sudden Flash o'erset my Reason:
But I must strive to bend her Heart by Pity,
For Vows of Innocence I fear are vain.
[Aside.
I need not ask what now you meditate,
[To her.
It is a Mother's Vengeance on her Son!
Those tender Names should have a softer Link
Than that of Death or Ruin.—'Tis in vain,
I know, to plead my Innocence from Guilt,
Whose very mention quite depriv'd my Soul
Of all its Faculties, and left me mute
In my Defence! So dreadful is the Thought
Of such a Crime to Nature.—Oh! if one
Black Deed has stain'd my Life, am I so lost
To all a Mother's Hopes, that she can think
No Crime too odious to infect my Heart!
Consider, Madam, what you have resolv'd:
My Life is in your Hands for Edmund's Death:
But future Duty will, I hope, dissolve
This Grief for him, and settled Hate to me!
And Comfort then—

Harro.
From thee!—O! name it not,
For thou wert born to give me endless Woe:
But shall—

Castor.
Yet hear—

Harro.
I am not to be mov'd.

Castor.
Behold with me a noble Line extinct!
And shall a Race of Heroes, that so long
Have serv'd their Country with Renown, in me
At last, with so much Infamy expire?
Oh! think you see their Shades all suppliant stand,
And beg their Glories in their Blood may stream,
The Pride and Praise of long succeeding Times.

Harro.
Thro' thee? thro' thee must all those Honours flow?
Thou Complication of all Villanies!
Thou base. Deserter of that noble Track
Your great, and long-renown'd Fore-fathers trod!
Can'st thou ingender ought but Infamy?
Or propagate a Race beyond thyself?
Unless in Guilt!—If Guilt can higher soar.
No; rather let me think that I behold
That venerable Tribe requesting now
I'd nip Dishonour in the first base Shoot
From their illustrious Stem!—And die thou shalt.

SCENE V.

Castor
solus.
So resolute!—Will nothing move thee then!
And must I fall the Victim of your Fury?—
What she accus'd me of indeed was true:
My Father threaten'd, for a youthful Folly,
To rob me of my Right: 'Twas Self-defence
That drove me to a Sage, whose Art supply'd
A deadly Drop, which with his Drink I mingled,
And well it wrought a Cure of all my Fears:
By soft degrees it foil'd the Strength of Nature,
And work'd too quiet to provoke Distrust.
Then shall that Heart, or this performing Hand,
Which dealt a Father's and a Brother's Fate,
Now fail me, when my Safety is at stake?—
No Call, no Tye my Progress must oppose,
I know no Kindred where it marks me Foes.