University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Gloster.

SCENE II.

Edward, Gloster.
Edward,
advancing from his Couch.

Gloster.
How fares my Lord, the Prince?

Edward.
To Health restor'd.
Only a Kind of Lassitude remains,
A not unpleasing Weakness hangs upon me:
Like the soft Trembling of the settled Deep,
After a Storm.

Gloster.
Father of Health be prais'd!

Edward.

Gloster.
She, my Lord, reposes.

Edward.
Reposes!—No!—It is not likely, Gloster,
That she would yield her weeping Eyes to sleep,
While I lay there in Agonies—Away!
I am too feeble then to know the Truth.
Say, is she well?

Gloster.
Now show thy Courage, Edward—

Edward.
O all my Fears! I shall start out to Madness!
What!—while I slept?

Gloster.
Yes—

Edward.
Misery! Distraction!
My Peace, my Honour is betray'd for ever!
O Love! O Shame! O murder'd Eleonora!

SCENE III.

Gloster.
Unhappy Prince! go find thy Eleonora,
And in heart-easing Grief exhale thy Passion:
All other Comfort, now, were to talk down
The Winds and raging Seas.—But yonder comes
Th'Arabian Princess. From her Tears I learn
The moving Scene within.

SCENE IV.

Gloster, Daraxa, a Messenger from Selim, attending at some distance.
Daraxa.
Oh! 'tis too much!
I can no more support it.

Gloster.
Generous Mourner,
How is it with the Princess Eleonora?

Daraxa.
Struck by the Poison, on her Couch she lies,
A Rose soft-drooping in Sabean Vales,
Beneath the fiery Dog-star's noxious Rage.
O Christian Chief, I never shall forget
The Scene these melting Eyes have just beheld,
With mingled Tears of Tenderness and Wonder.

Gloster.
How was it, Madam?

Daraxa.
When this Pride of Woman,
This best of Wives, which in his radiant Course
The Sun beholds, when first she, sickening, felt
Th'imperious Summons of approaching Fate,
All rob'd in spotless White she sought her Altars;
And, prostrate there, for her departing Soul,
The Prince her Husband, and her Orphan-Children,
Implor'd th'Eternal Mind.—As yet she held
Her swelling Tears, and in her Bosom kept
Her Sighs repress'd: nor did the near Approach
Of the pale King of Terrors dim her Beauty;
No, rather adding to her Charms, it breath'd
A certain mournful Sweetness thro' her Features.
But as th'increasing Bane more desperate grew,
Wild to her Bed she rush'd, and then, indeed,
The lovely Fountains of her Eyes were open'd,
Then flow'd her Tears.—“Connubial Bed, she cry'd,
“Chaste Witness of my Tenderness for him,
“To save whose Life I unrepining die,
“In Bloom of Youth, farewel!—Thou shalt, perhaps,
“Receive a fairer, a more happy Bride;
“But never a more faithful, never one
“Who loves her Husband with a fonder Passion.
Here flow'd her Tears afresh; with burning Lip,
She press'd the humid Couch, and wept again.
At last, while weary Sorrow paus'd, she rose,
And, fearing lest immediate Death might seize Her,
Demanded to be led to see the Prince;
But Fear of chasing from his Eyes, too soon,
The salutary Sleep that heal'd his Pangs,
Restrain'd her trembling Footsteps. On her Couch,
Abandon'd to Despair, she sunk anew,
And for her Children call'd. Her Children came.
A while, supported on her Arm, she ey'd them,
With Tears pursuing Tears a-down her Cheek,
With all the speechless Misery of Woe—
I see her still—O God!—the powerful Image
Dissolves me into Tears!

Gloster.
Madam proceed.
Such Tears are Virtue, and excel the Joys
Of wanton Pride.

Daraxa.
Then starting up, she went
To snatch them to a Mother's last Embrace;
When strait reflecting that the piercing Poison
Might taint their tender Years, she sudden shrunk
With Horror back—“O wretched Eleonora!
“(She weeping cry'd) and must I then not taste
“The poor remaining Comfort of the Dying,
“To see a Husband, clasp my dearest Children,
“And mix my parting Soul with theirs I love?”
Her sad Attendants, that till then had mourn'd
In silent Sorrow, all, at This, gave way
To loud Laments—She rais'd her languid Eye,
And casting on them round a gracious Smile,
To each by Name she call'd, even to the lowest,
To each extended mild her friendly Hand,
Gave, and, by Turns, receiv'd a last Farewel.
Such is the dreadful Scene from which I come.

Gloster.
How heighten'd now with Edward's mingled Woes!
Why were my lingering Years reserv'd for this?

Daraxa.
Come nearer, you, the Messenger of Selim,
And bear him back this Answer—His chief Aim,
He says, in stooping to sollicite Peace,
Was from the Chains of Infidels to save me.
What! was it then to rescue me he sent,
Beneath an all-rever'd and sacred Name,
Beneath the Shelter of his Hand and Seal,
A murdering Wretch, a sacrilegious Bigot,
To stab at once the gallant Prince of England,
And Mousol Faith? nay, with a poison'd Dagger
(Such his inhuman Cowardice) to stab him?
So well, 'tis true, he judg'd, the Christian Prince
Had now been mingled with the harmless Dead;
If his bright Princess, glorious Eleonora,
Had not redeem'd his dearer Life with hers.
You heard in what Extremity she lies.
Go, tell the Tyrant then—O Heaven and Earth!
O Vanity of Virtue! that Daraxa
Should e'er to Selim send so fell a Message—
I will suppress its Bitterness—Yet tell him,
This Crime has plac'd eternal Bars betwixt us.
See my last Tear to Love—Arabian Wilds
Shall bury 'midst their Rocks the lost Daraxa.
Away!

Gloster.
Behold they bear this way the Princess,
Once more to taste the Sweetness of the Sun,
Ere yet to mortal Light she bid farewel.

SCENE V.

Gloster, Daraxa, Theald, Edward, Eleonora born in by her Attendants on a Couch.
Eleonora,
entering.

Edward.
That Sun is Witness of our matchless Woes,
Is Witness of our Innocence—Alas!
What have we done to merit this Disaster?

Eleonora.
O Earth! O genial Roofs! O the dear Coast
Of Albion's Isle! which I no more shall see!—

Edward.
Nay, yield not to thy Weakness, Eleonora!
Sustain thyself a little, nor desert me!
Th'all-ruling Goodness may relieve us still.

Eleonora.
Edward! I tremble! Terror seizes on me!
Thro' the rent Veil of this surrounding Sky,
I had a Glimpse, I saw th'eternal! World.
They call, they urge me hence—Yes, I obey.
But O forgive me, Heaven! if 'tis with Pain,
With Agonies, I tear my Soul from His!

Edward.
Heavens! what I suffer!—How thy plaintive Voice
Shoots Anguish thro' my Soul!

Eleonora.
Some Power unseen—
Thy Hand, my Edward—some dark Power unseen
Is dragging me away—O yet a little,
Stern Tyrant, spare me!—Ah! how shall I leave
My weeping Friends, my Husband and my Children?

Edward.
Unhappy Friends! O greatly wretched Husband!
And O poor careless Orphans, who not feel
The Depth of your Misfortune!

Eleonora.
Lay me down;
Soft, lay me down—my Powers are all dissolv'd—
A little forward bend me—Oh!

Edward.
O God!
How that soft Frame is torn with cruel Pangs!
Pangs robb'd from me!

Eleonora.
'Tis thence they borrow Ease—
My Children! O my Children! you no more
Have now a Mother; now, alas! no more
You have a Mother, O my hapless Children!

Edward.
What do I hear! What desolating Words
Are these? more bitter than a thousand Deaths!
Death to my Soul! Call up thy failing Spirit,
And leave me not to Misery and Ruin!

Eleonora.
Edward, I feel an Interval of Ease;
And, ere I die, have something to impart
That will relieve my Sufferings.

Edward.
Speak, my Soul!
Speak thy Desire: I live but to fulfil it.

Eleonora.
Thou seest in what a hopeless State I lie,
I who this Morning rose in Height of Youth,
High-blooming, promis'd many happy Years.
I die for Thee, I self-devoted die.
Think not, from This, that I repent my Vow;
Or that, with little Vanity, I boast it:
No; what I did from unrepenting Love
I chearful did, from Love that knows no Fear,
No Pain, no weak Remission of its Ardor.
And what, alas! what was it but the Dictate
Of Honour and of Duty: nay, 'twas selfish,
To save me from unsufferable Pain,
From dragging here a wretched Life without Thee.
Two Fears yet stand betwixt my Soul and Peace.
One is for Thee, lest thou disturb my Grave
With Tears of wild Despair. Grieve not like Those
Who have no Hope. We yet shall meet again;
We still are in a kind Creator's Hand;
Eternal Goodness reigns. Besides, this Parting,
This Parting, Edward, must have come at last,
When Years of Friendship had, perhaps, exalted
Our Love, if That can be, to keener Anguish.
Think what thy Station, what thy Fame demand;
Nor yield thy Virtue even to worthy Passions.
My other Care—my other Care is idle—
From That thy equal Tenderness with mine,
Thy Love and Generosity secure me.
Our Children—

Edward.
Yes, I penetrate thy Fear.
But hear me, dying Sweetness! On this Hand,
This cold pale Hand I vow, our Children never,
Shall never call another by the Name
Sacred to Thee; my Eleonora's Children
Shall never feel the hateful Power thou fear'st.
As one in Life, so Death cannot divide us.
Nor high Descent, nor Beauty, nought that Woman,
In her unbounded Vanity of Heart,
Can wish, shall ever tempt my Faith from Thee.
Shall ever, said I? Piteous Boast indeed!
O nothing can!—I should be gross of Heart,
Tasteless and dull as Earth, to think with Patience,
Without Abhorrence, of a second Hymen.
Where can I find such Beauty? Where such Grace,
The Soul of Beauty? where such winning Charms?
Where such a soft Divinity of Goodness?
Such Faith? such Love? such Tenderness unequal'd?
Such all that Heaven could give—to make me wretched!
Talk not of Comfort—Into what a Gulph
A lone Abyss of Misery I fall,
The Moment that I lose Thee—Oh! I know not!
I dare not think!—But these unhappy Orphans—
Ah the dire Cause that makes it double Duty—
Shall now be doubly mine to shelter them,
These Pledges of our Love, I will attempt
To brave the Horrors of loath'd Life without Thee.

Eleonora.
Enough! it is enough! On this Condition
Receive them from my Hands.

Edward.
Dear Hands! dear Gift!
Dear, precious, dying, miserable Gift!
With Transport once receiv'd, but now with Anguish!

Eleonora.
I yet should live, my Children—and I die.

Edward.
How truly lost! what shall I be without Thee!

Eleonora.
All-soft'ning Time will heal thy Woes. The Dead
Soon leave the Passions of the Living free.

Edward.
Detested Life!—O take me, take me with Thee!

Eleonora.
My single Death, O Grave, may well suffice.

Edward.
Severe mysterious Heaven! that This should be!

Eleonora.
What darksome Ways I tread!—O Sun!—O Earth!

Edward.
Stay, cruel, stay!—Thou leav'st me, Eleonora!

Eleonora.
Ah! the strong Hand of Iron Fate compels me!

Edward.
Raise raise, my Eleonora, thy sweet Eyes,
Nor quit thy Children!

Eleonora.
With what Pain I quit them!
Well then—receive my last Adieu—

Edward.
Again,
O yet again behold them!

Eleonora.
Oh!—'Tis Darkness—
A deadly Weight—

Edward.
Thou leav'st me then for ever!—

Eleonora.
Where am I?—Ah!—a Tenant still to Pain.
The quivering Flame of Life leaps up a little.
Meantime, my Edward, 'tis my last Request,
That Thou wouldst leave me, while I yet enjoy
A parting Gleam of Thought—Leave me to Heaven!—
Gloster—farewel—Be careful of the Prince—
Attend him hence—and double now thy Friendship!

Edward.
Barbarian! off!—Ah! whither would'st thou drag me!

Gloster.
My Lord, in Pity to the Princess—

Edward.
Oh!

Eleonora.
Farewel! farewel!—What must be—must be, Edward!

Edward.
O Word of Horror!—Can I?—No! I cannot!
There, take me, lead me, hurl me to Perdition!—

SCENE VI.

Eleonora, Daraxa, Theald, Attendants.
Eleonora.

Daraxa.

Eleonora.
The Guilt of Selim cannot stain thy Virtues:
It rather lends them Lustre—Bear me back,
My dear Attendants: and, good Theald, come,
Come, aid my mounting Soul to spring away,
From the lov'd Fetters of this kindred Clay.