 | The Perfidious Brother |  |
ACT II.
Enter Luciana and Selinda.Sel.
Tell me, my dear Luciana, quickly tell me,
What heavy Anguish sits upon thy Soul;
For in thy languid Eyes I read Affliction,
And Care Usurps the Seat where Joy should dwell.
Where is that Strength of Mind, and in-born Courage,
With which thou once wert wont to brave Misfortunes?
Is all thy boasted Resolution shrunk,
Subdued by Frailty, and thy Sex's Weakness?
12
How would'st thou chide Me, could'st thou but suggest
The Cause of this new Gloom, and Woman's Sadness?
But cruel Apprehension, Tyrant-like,
Has seiz'd my Brain, and will not be depos'd:
I shudder at the Thought of fancied Terrors;
And dread the Omen of a frightful Vision.
Sel.
Has then the Mock'ry of a Dream disturb'd you,
The Work of Sickly Spleen, and Indigestion?
The Labour of disturb'd and roving Fancy,
When Reason sleeps, and boiling Humours govern!
The Care of Dreams should vanish with the Night;
And the wak'd Soul, collecting all its Pow'rs,
Stand up, and scorn imaginary Horror.
Luc.
Think not, Selinda, Dreams are all alike
The vain Impertinence of Sportive Fancy:
Indulgent Heav'n may influence our Slumbers,
And a Commission'd Vision have its Weight,
To guide, or warn Us of impending Danger:
I've heard, that secret Crimes have been disclos'd,
Others prevented by this Child of Sleep;
That, from the Nightly Visitation's Dread,
The Murth'rer's steely Breast has been Unlock'd;
Conscience alarm'd, and urg'd to swift Confession.
Sel.
But what might thine import, of dreadful Notice,
To stamp these strong Impressions on thy Soul?
Luc.
I'll tell Thee all the Substance of its Terrors,
Tho' what they may import, foresee I cannot:
Last Night, when, in my lov'd Sebastian's Arms,
The Leaden Hand of Sleep had clos'd my Eyes,
And balmy Rest stole on my well-pleas'd Senses;
Methoughts, with sudden Crash, the Curtains open'd;
And near my Pillow stood, ghastly and pale,
The rev'rend Shade of my Departed Sire:
His Brows were knit with Frowns, his Visage stern,
13
A-while he fix'd their glaring Beams upon Me,
Then, Wretch! said He, in hoarse and hollow Tone,
Think not, tho' I am dead, and laid in Earth,
Thy Guilt shall pass unmark'd, or thou escape
The Vengeance due to Filial Disobedience;
No, from the Grave my Curses shall pursue Thee,
And drive Thee to the very Verge of Fate.
Then did he seem to draw a deadly Dagger,
And told me Blood and Mischief must ensue!
Trembling I turn'd, and sought Sebastian's Bosom;
But found him Cold, and Pale as Winter Moon-light;
But as I rose, methoughts, to know the Cause,
He seem'd no more my Husband, but thy Father,
Gonsalvo kill'd, and welt'ring in his Gore.
Sel.
The Tale has chill'd me, and my curdling Blood
Like Icicles, hangs in my frozen Veins.
Luc.
I cannot count each Incident of Horror;
But something more was done, which scapes Remembrance:
I heard the Voice of Beaufort, loud and raging;
And Rod'rick too, design'd for thy Embrace,
Was busie in the Scene of Dread Confusion.
Sel.
All must be fatal then, if he were present;
Destruction was on Foot, and he employ'd
To do some Act of Hell, and plotted Malice.
Think not I e'er can yield to wed that Rod'rick:
Avert it, Heav'n, that I should be so curs'd
To be the Partner of his hated Bed:
Death, Want, or Tortures would be Blessings to it.
Luc.
Tho' I must own, for Reasons strong and weighty,
(Which yet shall sleep, private and undisclos'd;)
I cannot treat him with a Sister's Love;
Yet much I wonder, whence such earnest Hate,
Such fixt Aversion should possess thy Soul,
That Thou, uninjur'd, do'st detest his Person.
14
I'll tell thee then:—(whate'er thy Reasons be,
Perhaps thou wilt confess my Wrongs are equal.)
Know, e'er I was acquainted with his Passion,
I had retir'd, as oft it was my Custom,
To the lone Grove, which bounds our spacious Garden,
T'avoid the parching of the Noon-tide Sun,
And taste the Pleasures of the fresh'ning Breezes.
There on a Bank reclin'd, my Robes all loose,
While I was lost in Solitude and Thought,
The crafty Rod'rick stole unmark'd upon me,
Threw himself down, and clasp'd me in his Arms,
And almost stifled me with loathsome Kisses.
Luc.
Most Insolent, and Rude!
Sel.
What will you call it,
When you have heard the Sequel of his Baseness?
I struggled to get loose, but all in vain;
For he, outmast'ring my too feeble Force,
Held me, regardless of my Frowns and Out-cries,
And told me 'twas the prosp'rous Hour of Love.
Fir'd by the kind Occasion, and my Youth,
Then he with brutal Violence attempted
To force me to Dishonour:—
Luc.
Ha!—the Villain!—
Sel.
But Heav'n, that still befriends our Innocence,
Ev'n while the Means of Rescue seem most distant,
Arm'd me for my Defence: His unsheath'd Dagger,
Did in the Struggle fall within my reach:
Seizing it, with an Arm uplift for Vengeance,
I vow'd to Heav'n, unless he strait releas'd me,
To strike the Ponyard to his treach'rous Heart:
When aw'd with Guilt, and my resenting Fury,
He loos'd me, and I fled the threatned Danger.
Luc.
Now I no longer wonder at thy Hate,
The Traytor merits all thy Scorn and Anger,
And I will join with Thee to curse his Baseness.
15
Methinks I meet my Fate at his Approach;
And when he fawns, and sues to do a Service,
It is a Bait to catch the Soul which trusts him:
Whene'er he Smiles, his Heart is forming Ills;
And when he proffers Love, he means Destruction.
Sel.
Let's dwell no longer on this hated Subject;
O my Luciana, were he but as near
In Honour, as in Blood, to thy Sebastian,
How would it joy my Soul to call thee Sister.
But see, thy Husband's Friend, the gallant Stranger,
Beaufort approaches; mark, with what a Grace,
And awful Mein he treads!—
Luc.
Take heed, Selinda,
Least the pleas'd Eye betray the cred'lous Heart:
Men are by Nature false, and prone to Change,
And tho' with streaming Eyes, and bended Knees,
They swear, intreat, and flatter for our Love,
Possession palls 'em strait, and we're neglected.
Sel.
Too many merit the Reproach of Falshood,
But till I find you've cause to tax Sebastian,
I'll hold my fair Opinion of the Sex.
Enter Beaufort.
Beau.
So early up!—Sure, Ladies, you design'd
T'out-vie the Sun in all his Morning-Glories;
Or copy Beauties from Aurora's Blushes.
Sel.
It seems more strange You should so soon be stirring,
Since Nature wearied asks for more Refreshment,
And makes our Slumbers trespass on the Morning.
Beau.
A Soldier's Life enures us much to Toil,
With painful Marches, and continued Watchings.
We are but scanty Borrowers from Repose;
The whistling Winds rock us to Sleep awhile,
16
But say, how fares my Friend, my best Sebastian?
Luc.
Thanks to the gracious Pow'rs, most well, and chearful!
But Two Years Absence makes our little Home
New to his Eye, and ev'ry Object pleases:
Already is he gone to view the Garden,
(Pray Heav'n the chilling Dews hurt not his Health!)
He charg'd me, when you rose, to give him Notice;
I know he will be glad thus to be summon'd.
[Exit Luciana.
Selinda offering to go, Beaufort stops her.
Beau.
Stay, cruel Fair One, grudge me not the Joy
Of gazing on those lovely, killing Beauties.
By Heav'n, and all my Hopes of Bliss hereafter,
Never till now did I behold such Charms.
With cold Indiff'rence have I view'd your Sex,
And still been arm'd against Desire and Love.
But you have caught my Soul; the more I look,
The stronger is your Pow'r; my vanquish'd Heart
Submits to be enslav'd, and owns your Triumphs.
Sel.
Such Language from a Stranger would surprize me,
But that I know Courtships are built on Custom:
The Gallantry o'th' Age prescribes you Flatt'ry,
And Protestations are the Phrase in Fashion.
Beau.
Think not so meanly of my gen'rous Love;
Now, by the Honour of a Soldier's Calling,
I scorn the little Artifice of Custom.
The Curse of Infamy fall on my Head,
If, better than my Life, I do not love Thee:
If my fond Heart holds Thee not all Perfection:
If I'd not brave all Dangers Fate could urge,
Or leap a dreadful Precipice to gain Thee!
Sel.
Hold, Sir, you must desist, or I must leave you:
17
Am I commanded to receive a Husband;
And, tho' I freely own I dread his Choice,
My Virtue and Obedience both forbid me
To lend an Ear to any Talk of Love,
Which thwarts the Purpose of his steady Will:
If then you would not have me shun your Presence,
You must be silent on that Theme for ever.
Beau.
Be silent!—O recall that hasty Sentence;
For whilst I've Life I must adore your Beauties,
And still pursue you with unwearied Passion:
O! can you be so fatally Observant,
In blind Obedience to a harsh Decree,
Form'd by the stubborn Will of Testy Age,
To plunge your self in Woe, and wed the Man
You own you dread, because he says you must?
Forbid it Heav'n! O gen'rous lovely Maid,
E'er Fate has put that dreadful Bar between us,
While yet there's Hope, permit me thus to kneel
And plead the Cause of faithful Love.
Enter a Servant.
Sel.
No more:—
Serv.
Madam, your Father waits impatient for you.
[Exit Servant.
Sel.
I come:—But oh! my Heart! with how much Dread:
Perhaps, he means to press the fatal Nuptials;
But be it as it will, I must obey him.
Farewel:—
Beau.
Nay, do not shake me off so soon,
Let me pursue Thee to the Chamber Door;
For, like a Wretch condemn'd to instant Death,
I'd hedge a Moment in of Life and Joy,
And put the dreadful Separation off.
[Exeunt.
18
Rod.
Tis wond'rous well; so hasty, my young Soldier,
T'invade my Right, and work thy close Intreagues
Against the hospitable House which holds Thee?
I mark'd Her too, and tho' her Tongue forbad him,
Her Looks implied her Heart approv'd his Courtship.
But 'tis no matter, I can brook a Rival,
Who, tho' she love him, cannot hurt my Claim.
Sebastian,—and alone—Then flourish Mischief!
I know him hot, and violent of Temper;
Excess of Love, and Fear of being injur'd,
Will make him Jealous on the least Suspicion.
I'll pour the Venom deep, and let it scatter:
But he approaches: Poor, unhappy Brother!
Enter Sebastian.
Foully thou'rt wrong'd, but little think'st her false:
Her Acts impose upon thy gen'rous Nature.
Tho' long I have surmis'd her loose of Carriage;
Till now I never knew she was so base.
Seb.
What means this? Rod'rick,—
Rod.
Ha! My Brother's Voice?
I fear, I was o'er-heard:—Good Morning, Sir;
How have you rested?
Seb.
Rod'rick, where's my Wife?
Rod.
Brother, you seem to wear a Discomposure,
And question me, as tho' I were her Guard.
Did not Luciana lie the happy Night
Claspt in your warm Embrace?
Seb.
Well, and what then?—
Rod.
Then I presume, she may not be displeas'd
To take th'Advantage of the Morning's Slumber.
19
Ha! Wherefore do'st thou trifle with me thus,
And mock me into Rage? Did I not hear Thee
Compassionate the monstrous Wrongs I suffer'd,
And mention Falshood, which thou wert appris'd of?
By Heav'n, thou'st rais'd a Tempest in my Bosom
Which only Thou canst calm; let not my Soul
Be tortur'd on the Rack of hideous Doubts;
But ease it quickly; tell me, what could make Thee
Hold such Suspicious Converse with thy self,
And pity Wrongs which are to me unknown?
Rod.
Since you o'er-heard, Equivocation's vain;
But do not urge me to disclose a Trifle,
Which known, may rob your Soul of Rest for ever.
Perhaps, my jealous Spirit may be deceiv'd;
And my too partial Love for You induce me
To censure Her too rashly; and misconstrue
Th'allow'd, and common Gallantries of Nature
For crimeful Levity:—Besides, 'twere better
To rest in doubt, than be resolv'd of Ill.
Seb.
No, better know the worst of all my Fortunes,
And sink beneath th'oppressing Load at once;
Than linger out a wretched Life in Doubt,
And be the Slave of Fear!—Let me conjure thee,
As thou did'st ever hold Sebastian dear,
Strait to disclose the Scope of all thy Knowledge.
For could'st thou form a Tale of so much Horror,
Would make the Damn'd to shudder in their Pains,
Thou could'st not wound my Ears with half that Force,
With which Imagination stabs my Soul.
Rod.
Since you will have it then,—tho, with Reluctance,
I own you wring the Matter from my Breast;
I've Reasons to believe your Wife disloyal,
And that sh'as wrong'd your Bed:
Seb.
Enough!—No more:—
She's foul, and tainted as the swarthy Æthiop;
20
Yet tell me, thou can'st go beyond Belief;
Then lead me from this Maze of dark Surmises;
Teach bold Suspicion how to talk from Knowledge,
From Consequence, and Certainty of Falshood.
Rod.
I cannot from direct Assertion tax her,
But may with Circumstances aid Conjecture:
During your Absence, I have noted oft
The young Bellario has been private with her.
I've seen him gaze on her, (for I have watch'd 'em,
Secret, and unsuspected;) till Desire
Glow'd on his Cheek, and sparkled in his Eyes.
Then has he rush'd, and caught her in his Arms,
And on her melting Lips printed hot Kisses.
Call'd her his Life, wish'd her to let him take
A full Possession of her darling Beauties,
And lie transported on her snowy Bosom.
Whilst she, resisting just enough to raise
His Ardor more, would blush, and answer coldly,
O no! I cannot, dare not break the Vow
Which once I made Sebastian at the Altar.
Seb.
Most Infamous and Lewd!—But tell me, Rod'rick,
Was't more than once, and did she still continue
T'admit his Visits after this Presumption?
Rod.
Seldom a Day but they would be together.
Seb.
Perdition! Scorpions sting her guilty Breast,
And double all my Tortures on the Traytress!
Yet can it be?—Unpresidented Baseness!
If this be true, by righteous Heav'n I swear,
By Heav'n, the just Avenger of her Guilt,
She's foul, and black as Hell:—
Rod.
You doubt me then?
Why did you wish t'extort th'Impeachment from me,
If, when disclos'd, you meant not to believe it?
So help me Justice, were you not my Brother,
21
Your Infamy should arm you like Actæon,
For ev'ry gigling Fool to gaze and point at,
E'er I would meddle in the Cause of Shame,
Or turn Informer of a Woman's Freedoms.—
Seb.
O that thou did'st belie her!—but forgive me;
I know the Brand of Cuckold sticks upon me:
And yet, so dearly have I lov'd the false One,
That had I Gems, which would out-buy the World,
I'd give 'em all, be stript of Fortune's Favours,
And stand the sharp Severities of Fate;
Could I by such a Bribe translate her Soul
To it's first Whiteness:—But it cannot be:—
She is recorded Treach'rous, and Disloyal;
And Infamy is ne'er to be eras'd:
O Rod'rick, there is Poyson in thy Story;
The working Venom spreads thro' all my Pow'rs:
And chases Ease, and Comfort from my Soul.
I feel th'imprison'd Passions all unchain'd,
Rebellious to the gentle Sway of Reason;
Fury, and Love, Revenge, and bitt'rest Hate,
Possess my Bosom with alternate Discord,
And with Vicissitude of Tortures shake me.
Rod.
No more of this: Why should you thus be mov'd
For a vile Woman who deserves it not?
You've us'd her with that nobleness of Temper,
That exquisite Degree of tender Passion,
As shou'd have forc'd the best Returns of Love,
From Souls where Gratitude and Virtue dwelt.
Consider then how heinous is her Guilt:—
These Pangs arise from the Remains of Love,
Tho' strongly shock'd, he still would keep Possession.
But if you mean to reassume Content,
Call up your Indignation to your Rescue:
22
Cast her for ever from you.
Seb.
Yes, I will;
I must: Tho' Pity pleads the Cause of Love,
Staggers my stern Resolves, and softens Fury.
Rod.
Hold, not to aggravate her certain Falshood,
Let her not know that you suspect her Faith,
But have a wary Eye on her, and Beaufort:
There's something, I've observ'd, has pass'd between 'em
Savours not much of Honour.
Seb.
Flames, and Sulphur!—
'Tis all Illusion: Beaufort turn a Fiend!
Break thro' the sacred Bonds of Trust and Friendship,
And dare sollicite, on so short a Knowledge,
My faithless Wife to lewd adulterous Pleasure!
Rod.
I did but counsel you to mark his Carriage;
Perhaps he may recant, and act with Honour.
Seb.
Have Sense, and Reason juggled to betray me?
Beaufort has, in a Thousand dang'rous Trials,
Approv'd his Friendship of no common Mould:
And can he now be false?—Unsteady Virtue!
How frail thy Dictates, when a Woman's Eyes,
Can draw thy Foll'wers off, and urge Pollution!
I thank my Fortune yet, that will not let me
Drag out an anxious Life in changing Tortures;
But crushes me at once with weighty Sorrow.
Rod.
Come, let your Griefs inspire your Rage: Remember
You're doubly wrong'd; and that his Breach of Friendship,
And your polluted Bed call loud for Vengeance.
Seb.
Well urg'd! I'll shake off this lethargick Fondness;
Rage and Revenge shall take up all my Soul.
I'll meditate some yet unheard of Tortures:
Yes, Roderick, thou shalt find I will resent,
And study Vengeance equal to their Baseness.
Exit Sebastian.
23
So, now the Storm is up, blow strongly Winds;
For ev'ry Blast will help to work my Fortunes.
O what a Joy 'twill be to see them bulge,
And strike on hidden Rocks of sure Destruction!
I question not but your religious Dotards,
Who mortify, and feed on barren Virtue,
Were they to know these Deeds, would call me Villain.
But let 'em rail, and pride themselves in Conscience,
Whilst I each Bliss within my grasp Surprize,
I'll leave to them Reversions in the Skies.
Exit Rod'rick.
The End of the Second Act.
| The Perfidious Brother | |