 | Edward and Eleonora |  |
1
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Prince Edward, Theald Archdeacon of Liege, Earl of Gloster.Edward.
I will no longer doubt, 'Tis plain, my Friends,
That with our little Band of English Troops,
By all Allies all western Powers deserted,
All but the noble Knights that guard this Land,
The Flower of Europe and of Christian Valour,
Nought can be done, nought worthy of our Cause,
Worthy of England's Heir, and of the Name
Of Lion-hearted Richard; whose Renown,
After almost a Century elaps'd,
Shakes thro' its wide Extent this Eastern World.
What else could bend the Saracen to Peace,
Who might, with better Policy, refuse
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I will accord the Peace he has demanded:
And tho' my Troops, impatient, wait the Signal
To storm yon Walls, yet will I not expose,
In vain Attempts, Valour that should be sav'd
For better days, and for the public Welfare.
Rash fruitless War, from wanton Glory wag'd,
Is only splendid Murder—What says Theald?
Approves my Reverend Father of my Purpose?
Theald.
Edward, illustrious Heir of England's Crown,
I must indeed be blinded with the Zeal
Of this our holy Cause, to think your Arms,
Thus all-forsaken, thus betray'd, sufficient
To reach the Grandeur of your first Design,
And, from the Yoke of Infidels, to free
The sacred City, Object of our Vows.
Yet this, methinks, this Jaffa might be seiz'd:
That still were something, an auspicious Omen
Of future Conquest—But, unskill'd in War,
To you, my Lord, and Gloster's wise Experience,
I this submit.
Edward.
Speak, Gloster, your Advice,
Before I fix my latest Resolution.
Gloster.
You know, my Lord, I never was a Friend
To this Crusado. My unchang'd Advice
Is strenuous then for Peace. Nor this, alone,
From your deserted Circumstance I urge,
But from the state of our unhappy Country.
Behold her, Edward, with a filial Eye,
And say, is this a time for these Adventures?
Behold Her still with deep Commotion shook,
Beneath a false delusive Face of Quiet:
Behold Her bleeding still from Civil War,
Exhausted, sunk; drain'd by ten thousand Arts
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Ill-manag'd Expeditions, Strangers, Legates,
Italian Leeches, and insatiate Rome;
That never rag'd before with such gross Insult,
With such abandon'd Avarice. Besides,
Who knows what evil Counsellors, again,
Are gather'd round the Throne. In Times like these,
Disturb'd, and lowring with unsettled Freedom,
One step to lawless Power, one old Attempt
Renew'd, the least Infringement of our Charters,
Would hurl the giddy Nation into Tempest.
Return, my Prince. You have already sav'd
Your Father from his Foes, from haughty Leister:
Now save him from his Ministers, from those
Who hold him captive in the worst of Chains—
Edward.
You, Gloster, sav'd us both.
Gloster.
I did my Duty;
Even while I join'd with Leister, did my Duty—
I hope I did—He, who contends for Freedom,
Can ne'er be justly deem'd his Sovereign's Foe:
No, 'tis the Wretch that tempts him to subvert it,
The soothing Slave, the Traitor in the bosom,
Who best deserves that Name; he is the Worm
That eats out all the Happiness of Kingdoms.
Even while I join'd with Leister, did my Duty—
I hope I did—He, who contends for Freedom,
Can ne'er be justly deem'd his Sovereign's Foe:
No, 'tis the Wretch that tempts him to subvert it,
The soothing Slave, the Traitor in the bosom,
Who best deserves that Name; he is the Worm
That eats out all the Happiness of Kingdoms.
Edward, return; lose not a Day, an Hour,
Before this City. Tho' your Cause be holy,
Believe me, 'tis a much more pious Office,
To save your Father's old and broken Years,
His mild and easy Temper, from the Snares
Of low corrupt insinuating Traitors:
A nobler Office far! on the firm Base
Of well-proportion'd Liberty, to build
The common Quiet, Happiness and Glory,
Of King and People, England's rising Grandeur.
To you, my Prince, this Task, of right, belongs.
Has not the Royal Heir a juster Claim
To share his Father's inmost Heart and Counsels,
Than Aliens to his Int'rest, those, who make
A Property, a Market of his Honour?
Before this City. Tho' your Cause be holy,
Believe me, 'tis a much more pious Office,
To save your Father's old and broken Years,
His mild and easy Temper, from the Snares
Of low corrupt insinuating Traitors:
A nobler Office far! on the firm Base
Of well-proportion'd Liberty, to build
The common Quiet, Happiness and Glory,
Of King and People, England's rising Grandeur.
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Has not the Royal Heir a juster Claim
To share his Father's inmost Heart and Counsels,
Than Aliens to his Int'rest, those, who make
A Property, a Market of his Honour?
One Reason more allow me to suggest
For Peace, immediate Peace—should blind Misfortune,
In this far-distant hostile Land, oppress us;
A Chance to which our Weakness stands expos'd:
What, Edward, of thy Princess would become,
Thy Eleonora; she, whose tender Love
Thro' stormy Seas, and in fierce Camps, attends thee?
What of thy blooming Offspring? charg'd with these,
To give our Courage scope were cruel Rashness.
For Peace, immediate Peace—should blind Misfortune,
In this far-distant hostile Land, oppress us;
A Chance to which our Weakness stands expos'd:
What, Edward, of thy Princess would become,
Thy Eleonora; she, whose tender Love
Thro' stormy Seas, and in fierce Camps, attends thee?
What of thy blooming Offspring? charg'd with these,
To give our Courage scope were cruel Rashness.
Edward.
Enough, my Lord, I stand resolv'd on Peace;
And will to England strait—But where, alas,
Where shall we cover our inglorious Heads;
When gay with Hope the People round us press,
To hear by what Exploits we have sustain'd
The Fame of Richard, and of English Valour?
Shall I, my generous Country, I be rank'd
With those weak Princes, who consume thy Wealth,
And sink thy Name in idle Expeditions?—
Perfidious France! Be this the ruling Point
Of my whole Life, the Passion of my Soul,
To humble thee, proud Nation!—Meantime, Gloster,
See that the captive Princess be restor'd,
Daraxa to the Sultan of this City,
Whose Bride she is—We wage not war with Women.
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SCENE II.
Edward, Theald, Gloster, An Officer belonging to the Prince.Officer.
One from the Prince of Jaffa, Sir, demands
Your secret Ear on some important Message.
Edward.
Conduct him to my Tent—
[Officer goes out.
He brings, I judge,
The Sultan's last Instructions for this Peace.
Here wait: I may your faithful Counsel want.
SCENE III.
Theald, Gloster.Theald.
Whatever Woes, of late, have clouded England;
Yet must I, Gloster, call that Nation happy,
On whose Horizon smiles a dawning Prince
Of Edward's Worth and Virtues.
Gloster.
True, my Friend;
Edward has great, has amiable Virtues,
That Virtue chiefly which befits a Prince:
He loves the People he must one day rule;
With Fondness loves them, with a noble Pride;
Esteems their Good, esteems their Glory his.
One Instance it becomes me to recount,
That shows the genuine Greatness of his Soul.
Tho' I have met him in the bloody Field,
He fighting for his Father, I for Freedom;
Yet bears his Bosom no remaining Grudge
Of those distracted Times: to me his Heart
Is greatly reconcil'd—Virtue! beyond
The little unforgiving Soul of Tyrants!
Edward has great, has amiable Virtues,
That Virtue chiefly which befits a Prince:
He loves the People he must one day rule;
With Fondness loves them, with a noble Pride;
Esteems their Good, esteems their Glory his.
One Instance it becomes me to recount,
That shows the genuine Greatness of his Soul.
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He fighting for his Father, I for Freedom;
Yet bears his Bosom no remaining Grudge
Of those distracted Times: to me his Heart
Is greatly reconcil'd—Virtue! beyond
The little unforgiving Soul of Tyrants!
Now will I tell thee, Theald, whence I stoop
To wear the gaudy Chains of Court-Attendance,
At these grey Years; that should in calm Retirement
Pass the soft Evening of a bustling Life,
And plume my parting Soul for better Worlds.
Amidst his many Virtues, youthful Edward
Is lofty, warm, and absolute of Temper:
I therefore seek to moderate his Heat,
To guide his fiery Virtues, that, misled,
By dazling Power and flattering Sycophants,
Might finish what his Father's weaker Measures
Have try'd in vain. And hence I here attend him,
In Expeditions which I ne'er approv'd,
In holy Wars—your Pardon, Reverend Father—
I must declare I think such Wars the Fruit
Of idle Courage or mistaken Zeal,
Sometimes of Rapine and religious Rage,
To every Mischief prompt.
To wear the gaudy Chains of Court-Attendance,
At these grey Years; that should in calm Retirement
Pass the soft Evening of a bustling Life,
And plume my parting Soul for better Worlds.
Amidst his many Virtues, youthful Edward
Is lofty, warm, and absolute of Temper:
I therefore seek to moderate his Heat,
To guide his fiery Virtues, that, misled,
By dazling Power and flattering Sycophants,
Might finish what his Father's weaker Measures
Have try'd in vain. And hence I here attend him,
In Expeditions which I ne'er approv'd,
In holy Wars—your Pardon, Reverend Father—
I must declare I think such Wars the Fruit
Of idle Courage or mistaken Zeal,
Sometimes of Rapine and religious Rage,
To every Mischief prompt.
Theald.
You wrong, my Lord,
You wrong them much. To set this Matter only
Upon a Civil Footing: say, what Right
Had Robbers rushing from Arabian Desarts,
Fierce as the Suns that kindled up their Rage,
Thus, in a barbarous Torrent, to bear down
All Asia, Africk, and profane their Altars?
And to repel brute Force by Force is just.
Nay, does not even our Duty, Int'rest, Glory,
The common Honour of the Christian Name,
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That labours westward still, and threatens Europe?
Gloster.
Yes, when they burst their Limits, let us check them:
And with a firmer hand than those loose Christians,
The most corrupt and abject of Mankind,
Slaves, doubly Slaves, who suffer'd these Arabians,
In Virtue their Superiors as in Valour,
To measure Conquest with a Traveller's Speed.
By Rage and Zeal, 'tis true, their Empire rose:
But now some settled Ages of Possession
Create a Right, than which, I fear, few Nations
Can shew a better. Sure I am 'tis Madness,
Inhuman Madness, thus, from half the World,
To drain our Blood and Treasure, to neglect
Each Art of Peace, to set Mankind adrift:
And all for what? By spreading Desolation,
Rapine and Slaughter o'er the other half,
To gain a Conquest we can never hold.
And with a firmer hand than those loose Christians,
The most corrupt and abject of Mankind,
Slaves, doubly Slaves, who suffer'd these Arabians,
In Virtue their Superiors as in Valour,
To measure Conquest with a Traveller's Speed.
By Rage and Zeal, 'tis true, their Empire rose:
But now some settled Ages of Possession
Create a Right, than which, I fear, few Nations
Can shew a better. Sure I am 'tis Madness,
Inhuman Madness, thus, from half the World,
To drain our Blood and Treasure, to neglect
Each Art of Peace, to set Mankind adrift:
And all for what? By spreading Desolation,
Rapine and Slaughter o'er the other half,
To gain a Conquest we can never hold.
I venerate this Land. Its sacred Hills,
Its Vales, its Cities, trod by Saints and Prophets,
By God himself, the Scenes of heavenly Wonders,
Inspire me with a certain awful Joy.
But the same God, my Friend, pervades, sustains,
Surrounds and fills this universal Frame;
And every Land where spreads his vital Presence,
His all-enlivening Breath, to me is holy.
Its Vales, its Cities, trod by Saints and Prophets,
By God himself, the Scenes of heavenly Wonders,
Inspire me with a certain awful Joy.
But the same God, my Friend, pervades, sustains,
Surrounds and fills this universal Frame;
And every Land where spreads his vital Presence,
His all-enlivening Breath, to me is holy.
Excuse me, Theald, if I go too far:
I meant alone to say, I think these Wars
A kind of Persecution. And when that,
That most absurd and cruel of all Vices,
Is once begun, where shall it find an end?
Each, in his turn, or has or claims a Right
To wield its Dagger, to return its Furies;
And, first or last, they fall upon our selves.
I meant alone to say, I think these Wars
A kind of Persecution. And when that,
That most absurd and cruel of all Vices,
Is once begun, where shall it find an end?
Each, in his turn, or has or claims a Right
To wield its Dagger, to return its Furies;
And, first or last, they fall upon our selves.
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behind the Scenes.
Inhuman Villain! is thy Message Murder!
Theald.
Ha! heard you not the Prince exclaiming Murder?
Gloster.
Should this Barbarian Messenger—
[Moving towards the Noise.
'Tis so!
SCENE IV.
Theald, Gloster; to them Prince Edward wounded in the Arm, and dragging in the Assassin.Edward.
Detested Wretch! And does the Prince of Jaffa
Send base Assassins to transact his Treaties?
There—take thy Answer, Ruffian!
[Stabs him with the Dagger he had wrested from him.
Blow too hasty!
I should have sav'd thee for a fitter Death.
Assassin.
I would have triumph'd, Christian, in thy worst.
For know, thou vile Destroyer of the Faithful!
That tho' my erring Dagger miss'd thy Heart,
Yet has it fir'd thy Veins with mortal Poison,
Whose very touch is Death—Allah be prais'd!
O glorious Fate! Prophet, receive my Soul!
[Dies.
Edward,
after a short Pause.
Why stare you pale Amazement on each other?
Are we not Men, to whom the various Chance
Of Life is known?
Gloster.
Ha! Poison! did he say?
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O fatal Wound to England!
Theald.
Quick, my Lord,
Retire, and have it drest, without delay;
Ere the fell Poison can diffuse its Rage,
And deeply taint your Blood.
Edward.
The Princess comes!
O save me from her Tenderness!
SCENE V.
Edward, Theald, Gloster; to them the Princess Eleonora.Eleonora.
My Edward!
Support me!—Oh!
Edward.
She faints—My Eleonora!
Look up, and bless me with thy gentle Eyes!—
The Colour comes, her Cheeks resume their Beauty,
And all her Charms revive—Hence, spurn that Carcass:
A Sight too shocking for my Eleonora.
Eleonora.
And lives my Edward, lives my dearest Lord.
From this Assassin sav'd?—Alas! you bleed!
Edward.
'Tis nought, my lovely Princess!—A slight Wound—
Eleonora.
But ah! methought, I entering heard of Poison,
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Ha! silent all? will none relieve my Fears?—
Gloster.
Madam, restrain your Tenderness a moment—
The Prince delays too long—Let him retire.
Meanwhile, the troubled Camp shall be my Care;
Lest the base Foe should make a sudden Sally,
While yet our Troops are stun'd with this Disaster.
Edward.
I thank thee, noble Gloster. Nor, alone,
Support my Troops; go, rouse them to Revenge;
Tell them their injur'd Prince will try their Love,
Their Valour soon—And you, my Friend, good Theald,
Attend the Princess—Chear thee, Eleonora!
I cannot, will not, leave thee long, to vex
Thy tender Soul with aggravated Fears.
Theald.
Behold Daraxa, the false Sultan's Bride.
SCENE VI.
Eleonora, Theald, Daraxa.Daraxa.
Princess of England, let me share thy Grief.
Whence flow these Tears? and what this wild Alarm,
This Noise of Murder and Assassination?
Eleonora.
Alas! the Prince is wounded by a Ruffian;
And with a poison'd Dagger, as I fear.
Yet none will ease me of this racking Thought—
Nay, tell me, Theald, since to know the worst
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What has befal'n the Prince? For this slight Wound
Could never thus o'ercast the Brave with Terror.
Theald.
I dare not, Princess, dally with your Fate.
An impious Villain, from the Sultan Selim,
Pretended to the Prince a secret Message,
About the Peace in Treaty. Dreading nought,
He left us here, and to his Tent retir'd,
There to receive this execrable Envoy.
Strait with the Prince alone, the fierce Assassin
Attempted on his Life; but, in his Arm,
He took, it seems, the Blow, and from the Villain
Wresting the Dagger, plung'd it to his Heart.
This last we saw, and heard th'inhuman Bigot,
Who deem'd himself a Martyr in their Cause,
Boast, as he dy'd, the Prince's Wound was poison'd—
Eleonora.
Then all I fear'd is true! then am I wretched,
Beyond even Hope!
Daraxa.
A Villain from the Sultan!—
Eleonora.
Ah the distracting Thought! And is my Life!
My Love! my Edward! on the brink of Fate!
Of Fate that may this moment snatch him from me!
Daraxa.
What! Selim send Assassins? and beneath
A Name so sacred? Selim, whose Renown
Is Incense breathing o'er the sweeten'd East;
For each humane each generous Virtue fam'd;
Selim! the Rock of Faith! and Sun of Honour!
Eleonora.
O complicated Woe! The Christian Cause
Has now no more a Patron, and Restorer;
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Her Glory, her Delight, her only Hope;
These desolated Troops no more a Chief;
No more a Husband, a Protector, I,
A Friend, a Lover! and my helpless Children
No more a Father!
Daraxa.
Pardon, gentle Princess,
If in this Whirlwind of revolving Passions,
That snatch my Soul by turns, I have forgot
To pay the Tribute which I owe thy Sorrows—
But I my self, alas! am more unhappy!
Eleonora.
What Woes can equal mine? who lose, thus vilely,
The Best! the Bravest! Loveliest of Mankind!—
Daraxa.
You lose the Lover, I must learn to hate him,
To scorn what once was all my Pride and Transport!
Should Edward die by this accursed Crime,
(Which Heaven forbid) he dies admir'd, belov'd,
In the full Bloom of Fame and spotless Honour.
To you, the Daughter of illustrious Grief,
Your Tears remain, and sadly-sweet Reflection;
You with his Image, with his Virtues, still,
Amidst the pensive Gloom, may Converse hold:
While I—Ah! nothing meets my blasted Sight
But a black View of Infamy and Horror!
What is the Loss of Life to Loss of Virtue!—
And yet how can this heavenly Spark be lost?
No! Virtue burns with an immortal Flame.
He is bely'd—some Villain has abus'd him.
Theald.
I honour, Madam, this your virtuous Grief:
But that the Sultan did employ th'Assassin
Is past all doubt—Behold the false Instructions,
By which he gain'd Admittance.
[Giving her the Letter the Prince had dropt.
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Ha!—'Tis so!
His Hand! his Seal!—From my detesting Heart,
I tear him thus for ever!—Perish, Selim!
Perish the feeble Wretch, who more bewails him!
That were to share his Guilt!—Unhappy Princess!
Now let me turn my Soul to thy Assistance—
There is a Cure, 'tis true—
Eleonora.
A Cure, Daraxa!
O say, what Cure?
Daraxa.
No; it avails not, Madam;
None can be found to risque it.
Eleonora.
None to risque it?
Quick tell me what it is, my dear Daraxa!
Daraxa.
To find some Person, that, with friendly Lip,
May draw the Poison forth; at least, its Rage
And mortal Spirit. This will bring the Wound
Within the Power of Art: but certain Death
Attends the generous Deed.
Eleonora,
kneeling.
Then hear me, Heaven!
Prime Source of Love! Ye Saints and Angels, hear me!
I here devote me for the best of Men,
Of Princes and of Husbands. On this Cross
I seal the cordial Vow: confirm it Heaven!
And grant me Courage in the Hour of Trial!
Theald.
O Tenderness unequal'd!
Daraxa.
Glorious Princess!
Eleonora.
Go, Theald, quickly find the Earl of Gloster,
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As for the Person, leave that Task to me.
I with Daraxa will your Call attend;
O all ye Powers of Love, your Influence lend.
End of the First ACT.
| Edward and Eleonora | |