University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene. Marg'rite's Apartment.
Enter the King, Mad. de Bourbon, Brisson and Attendants.
Bour.
Yet, Sir, e'er you advance, e'er she appear,
Grant me thus far, not to engage your word;
Think on your Loyal Subjects earnest Prayers,
Think we can have no end in our advice,
But that which shou'd be yours; shall I prevail?

King.
Not give my word, can I be more engag'd?
By many Vows t'assure her I approv'd
My Father's choice, I have confirm'd his promise;
Justly she upbraids me, I'm angry with my self
For once deliberating on an Action,
Which when her Letter did but gently mention,
I cou'd not read without a blush of Shame.

Bour.
Can it be a guilt in you, to grant
The liberty she asks? Are you oblig'd
When she confesses another inclination?

King.
If it be so, I only am to blame;
But that perhaps is hinted but to try me.

Bour.
Then she dissembles with you.

King.
No, I ever found her plain, and artless,
It must be true, some one who more deserv'd her
She has blest; who can have charm'd that heart
Not easily, or violently mov'd;
Scarce did it seem t'ave warmth enough for Love.

Bour.
That which you thought indifference might be then
Some prepossession.

King.
No, you wrong her, Sister,
There was an open frankness in her kindness,
That shew'd it (tho' not passionate) was intire,
So had it ever been had I been just.

Bour.
Suppose it wou'd, can you now condescen'd
To take her Person, whilst her heart's anothers?

King.
I must with assiduity, with truth,
And Love, retrieve it. No more of your perswasions.

Enter Ann of Britain, attended.
Bour.
Most oppertunely Ann of Britannie
Is here—then, Brother, let this Lady plead.

King.
There's Eloquence indeed in Beauteous Eyes;
And her's are wondrous charming! They strike, and move me
With a strange disorder, something I have not felt;
O hide that dangerous Beauty! Which might shake
A Stoicks vertue, or tempt a second Adam
To break his Covenant, and forfeit Paradice,
To find a more delightful one in you!

Ann.
If I had Beauty, Sir, or any Power,
I wou'd employ it in the cause of Vertue,
Not against her; and I rejoice she'as kept
You on her side, as I must hope, finding
You in the Queen's Apartment.

King.
Does that rejoice you? 'Twas cruel to declare it.

Ann.
Is it cruel, Sir, to be Sollicitous
For your Glory? It speaks a value for you,
Else I had seen your Actions with indifference.

King.
Oh Madam, we acquit our selves to honour well,
In sacrificing for it with reluctance
What we value, when with joy we part,
It seems more for aversion, than for vertue.

Ann.
A noble heart dreads nothing more than finding
The choice it made unworthy, and sees with pleasure
It's inclination justify'd by merit,
Tho' to the loss of what was dearest to it.

King.
Durst I apply those tender pleasing Words;
How well wou'd they reward whatever Sacrifice
Were needful to confirm that valuable
Inclination: Let me indulge
The flattering thought those Words were meant to me.

Ann.
my Inclination, Sir, as you're engag'd,
Can be of little consequence to know.

King.
It wrongs not what I owe to any other,
To ask how far it might hav favour'd me, had I been free.

Ann.
Search not with useless curiosity,
What were for both better conceal'd for ever.

King.
You have no thoughts that shou'd be hid, they're Noble all;
And I wou'd Prize my self upon the knowledge;
You e'er bestow'd a favourable one on me.

Ann.
True, I have not a thought can raise a blush,
Why shou'd they shun the Light?
No, I will tell you, whilst your Majesty
Honour'd my Father's Court, something I observ'd
So Noble in your Soul; nay, I confess too,
Somewhat pleasing in your Person, in all your Action,
That cou'd have touch'd my heart, had yours been free,
Nearer than any Prince I ever knew.

King.
Oh, there's a Charm in those soft words that might
Dissolve the strongest Ties, make me forget
All Obligations.
Lost in the pleasure to be lov'd by you,
And unknown Transports of a mutual Flame.

Ann.
Oh, Sir, let not what I have express'd seduce
Your Vertue, cou'd you be tempted from your Faith
To Heav'n and Marg'rite, not all the shining Glories
Of your Crown, nor soft Insinuations
Of your Love, shou'd bribe me from my just Disdain,
Of a dishonourable and impious
Alliance, and undeserving my Esteem;
Were my Affection rooted with Life inseparable,
I'd tear 'em up together.

King.
There is a greatness
In your Nature that delights and fires me
With emulation, sure our Souls have been
Acquainted, or were created for each other:
How fond I am of regulating mine
By such a glorious Model. Yes, Madam,
To preserve your heart I will for ever lose you.
Hast Brisson, inform the Queen I'm here
[Exit Brisson.
To wait on her hasten; hasten her to th'assistance
Of my Vertue, for mine is yet but struggling
To that height above the reach of Storms,
Where unmolested by tempestuous Passions
You are sedately fix'd.

Ann.
Now you maintain
Your highest Character, the awful Image
Of a Divine Original
Which we Obey and Reverence in Kings,
And as you prize the Sacred Stamp be constant
To your Self.

Bour.
Was ever so fantastick
An Agreement against their mutual Wishes,
There can be now no hopes.

[Enter Marg'rite.
King.
That you had cause to reproach me I confess,
For 'twas a Crime to waver in my Choice;
But if a free Acknowledgment, and firm Repentance,
Stands with Heav'n instead of Innocence,
I have that Title to obtain your Pardon.

Mar.
(Aside.)
'Tis as I fear'd.

King.
You turn away in silence:
Is my Offence too great to be forgiv'n?
I have appeal'd yet only to your Goodness,
And wou'd not plead t'excuse what I have done,
Else I might urge a Nation's good,
Of weight sufficient to suspend my thoughts;
And if thus far I have let my self be govern'd
By those who're watchful for my Interest, no sooner
I resume my self than I return
To Honour, and to you.

Mar.
Sir, since your Subjects have so far prevail'd,
I now intreat you'l not consider me
In prejudice of them, or your own Inclination,
Freely I release you.

King.
Then I'm indeed unhappy,
The just Reproaches that I dreaded from you,
Wou'd not have been so cruel as this Coldness.

Mar.
The sense your Majesty seems touch'd with of my Wrongs,
Obliges me in honour not to deceive you;
I sincerely own your past Behaviour
Has quite estrang'd you to my affection.

King.
I know I've ever had but little interest in it,
As in my happiest days I had cause to fear,
Which this confirms, you cou'd not else so easily
Withdraw it.

Mar.
I had kindness for you once
Sufficient to make my Duty easy; enough
You fill'd my heart t'exclude all others thence
Which now I dare not promise.

King.
O Madam, I cou'd never boast that power,
Which you insinuate some other has,
Whatever place you allow'd me in your heart,
You kept your self the absolute Command;
How must it grieve me then to find,
You could submit it to such a ruling Passion,
That now you dare not promise for it's Conduct.

Mar.
You'l find a Sovereign Cordial for your grief,
In that fair Princes; nay, blush not, Sir, nor be confus'd,
You may with reason glory in the change,
And all Mankind approve your nobler choice

King.
The slight disorder you with cause remark'd,
Was, I confess, rais'd by a conscious thought,
Of an Emotion sudden and unusual,
I found in meeting first this Lady here;
But Oh, the anxious pains I feel, to think
You love another shews me you're dearer to me
Than my felf Imagin'd.

Mar.
Th'Effect of Pride,
Disdaining what we once possest tho' in it self
Not valu'd, shou'd be forc'd from us it seems
T'upbraid our weakness with a stronger power,
Or want of merit by the preference:
But, Sir, our Loves are by caprice, or fate,
And ours 'tis plain directed from each other.

King.
Yet once you say your heart was mine intirely,
And what I only lost by my neglect,
I'll not despair my future Services,
My truth, and perseverance, may regain.
Can Musick charm, and soften your resentment?
Let it begin—
Musick can all the Passions calm, or raise,
And whilst it melts, and kindles you to love,
I'll watch your Eyes, and the soft Flame improve.
They sit, Musick then all rise.
After the Musick.
I'll not abuse your generous confidence,
But nobly will dispute you with Lorrain,
Let him who loves you best the Prize obtain;
Mean time that to your Honour you'll be just,
And to my generous Advocate, I trust.

Ex. cum suis Manent, Mar. and Ann.
Mar.
All leave the Room— (To her Woman.

O Madam, what have you done! How miserable
Have you made me!

Ann.
Cou'd you have justify'd
Your Marriage to your own thoughts, knowing
Your Contract with the King is still in force?

Mar.
The King was false, is false, and this is but a plot
In him, in you, and all Mankind, to plague,
And force the guilt on me.

Ann.
Madam, I wish'd
The King wou'd have consented to release you,
That both might so acquit your selves with honour;
But scorn the baseness of the thought you mention,
You know not how to prize a real Friend.

Mar.
Cruel Friend!
Will you deny me this poor priviledge,
To rail, to rave, to grieve, when I am wretched!

Ann.
Forgive me, you indeed have greatly cause,
Just in the view of happiness, to lose it!

Mar.
Ay, there's the aggravation! But oh, not only
To be snatch'd from bliss, but then condemn'd
To endless torments, another's loath'd embraces!
'Tis too much for mortal bearing! Whirlwinds
Rather drive me hence—
Or blast me with some horrible infection,
To make me hateful to his Eyes, as he's to mine;
Come any horror, any Curse, but Marriage.

Ann.
Have patience, time may work some happy Change,
The King may be prevail'd on to desist,
Or you to love since he was once so bless'd.

Mar.
O never, never, Lorrain has been too long
A tender dear Companion to my heart,
To leave it the least relish for another,
To let it know a Joy or peace without him:
O tell me how to shun this misery,
I cannot bear it, not support the thought;
I cannot live, and fear it.

Ann.
Indeed 'tis sad yet better to be born,
Than the reproaches of all the Just and Vertuous
Of Mankind, or what's more terrible,
The Stings of sharp remors for violated Vows
Cou'd you bear that, Consider—

Mar.
I will consider;
But let me first vent my extravangance,
Veiw my unhappiness in all its forms,
And feel for each anticipated Torture,
Then if they do not make me mad, or break my heart,
I will consider.

Ann.
Alass, I pity you,
And half repent the counsel that occasion'd
Your Misfortune; do you forgive it me.

Mar.
You did the duty of a Friend, I know you did;
But leave me for a while to my destraction,
I wou'd alone indulge it to the height,
Then 'twill abate, and brooding o'er my grief,
You'l find me calm and gentle as a Dove
That only in soft murmurs, moans it's dear lost Mate.

Ann.
May Heav'n compose and guide your thoughts, Farewel.
[Exit Ann.

Mar.
Was e'er a fate like mine, sure the first Wretch
That by her Lover's truth has been undone,
Many complain of their perfidiousness,
A common Vice, and natural to the Sex!
But nature must be chang'd to ruin me,
A Man cou'd not continue false to leave me happy,
Had he been always true, or still been false,
But Contradictions reconcile to make me wretched,
What hope t'avoid a fate that miracles
Are wrought t'accomplish—
And nothing less than Miracle can make me live and bear it.
There's all my hope that it may wound to Death,
Or turn me wild to frightful Savage fury,
Or Stupify me till I'm grown insensible
Of my Misfortunes, Alass, I rave,
When calm Deliberation's necessary,
Lorrain will soon be here in height of expectation,
And impatience of our Wishes and I
Must disappoint 'em, Fate is not that sufficient
T'acquit me of the guilt of Perjury,
But I must be anothers, spare me that part of misery
And let the Sacrifice I make attone,
When I refuse to be my self the Victim;
He's come, how shall I tell him our sad Doom!

[Enter Lorrain
Lor.
Now, now, my Princess, we've secur'd our happiness
Out of the reach of Fate; let's fly my Love,
In this propitious minute to our Bliss.

Mar.
I cannot speak it,

[aside.
Lor.
O do not dash my joy with shy reluctance;
Love can dispel the coyest Virgin-fears.
Your Brother with a Priest is waiting in the Grove,
And my desires too eager for delay.

Mar.
O Lorrain, do not rely too far
On promis'd happiness least unforeseen
Our flatt'ring fate betray us, think when our joys
Are highest we then are most in fortunes power,
And most shou'd fear some sudden turn t'allay
Or quite destroy 'em, there can be here no full
And yet continu'd Bliss.

Lor.
Fortune may gratify
Her lov'd Inconstancy on all my other
Expectations, and checker Life with various
Disappointments, yet I shall find in you
An over-plus of good to rest my Soul on,
That will compensate all secure of that
I can bear all her mischiefs.

Mar.
Is that secure.

Lor.
We may this moment make it so; this moment
Is our own

Mar.
O no, have you no apprehensions,
Yet but this Morning you were full of fears;
The King might claim his Contract.

Lor.
And you dispel'd 'em?
My confidence is firmly founded now
Upon your Love and Truth.

Mar.
O did your happiness
Depend on that Lorrain, how blest were both,
But I in vain have tenderness and truth
If fate conspires against us.

Lor.
Why do you alarm my Soul with causeless Terrors,
It needs not to endear you in possession,
Have I had any care, or fears, or hopes,
Or aim but center'd there, what need of this
To heighten my desire.

Mar.
Or had I e're such Arts, wou'd it were artful all,
But there's, alass, a cause too great too real;
The King has just been with me, exacts my Promise,
And renews his Vows obstinately,
Refusing to release me.

Lor.
I thought that ne'er
Cou'd be an Obstacle, when Austria had declar'd
Not his Repentance shou'd obtain you of him,
But find your Love's weaker than his resentment,
That I confess I had not arm'd against.

Mar.
O that you cou'd justly tax my want of Love,
That it had not the power thus to divide me
From my self; cou'd raise no tumults in my Breast,
But leave me without Struggling to my Duty,
I were not then thus wretched.

Lor.
Love in full vigour feels no opposition,
Like Life at it's last ebb the very pangs
It gives shews it expiring, Madam, be comforted,
The pain's soon past, and a new Life succeeds
Of greater pleasures, you'll in the King no doubt
Find happiness.

Mar.
Eternal misery,
Add not to my Affliction by this unjust reproach;
I fear my Love's too strong that against Honour,
Gratitude, all Obligations—
O, I feel it ever will contest
To make my grief still fresh to give me ever
This distracting Sense of what I've parted with,
Which nothing nothing else cou'd forc'd me to,
But fear to draw upon my self, and what
Much more I dread, t'involve you in the guilt
And punishment of breaking Sacred Vows.

Lor.
To day you thought 'em cancel'd, but 'tis your Sexes art
To charge th'effects of your inconstancy,
On Conscience when e're your fancy's Sated.
Conscience is sure t'upbraid, and never fails
To find a Plea for the new Inclination;
Passion is all your Principle of Conscience,
And Interest and Ambition of your Passions.

Mar.
This from you, Lorrain.

Lor.
Did I act thus,
When Glory courted me, and offer'd Crowns,
I slighted both, fool that I was—more fool
To think a Woman cou'd resist such Baits,
Not to perceive I only was accepted
On the King's neglecting you, and your pretended
Love for me, but a despair of his.

Mar.
I thank you, what Honour, Duty,
All the King's submissions, or his merit,
Cou'd not effect this Insolence has done;
And if I can't receive his Love with pleasure
I shall be eas'd of mine; no more regret
But proud I'm freed from what I now despise;
You've shown your self, nor cou'd have pictur'd me
So vilely, had you not copy'd your own Soul:
My heart disdains to harbour one that durst
Admit thoughts so unworthy of it from thence,
As from my sight I banish you for ever.

Lor.
What have I done? O stay—
When Mad-men loose their fury on themselves,
And hurt what's dearest to 'em, we are not angry,
But we pity 'em; inhuman Marg'rite,
You torture me till I'm depriv'd of reason,
And then condemn for what my madness utters.

Mar.
Your words, tho' far from truth, seem'd not so wild,
As study'd thoughtful malice.

Lor.
O had I thought
The things I said, I had parted from you without
Reproaching you as one not worthy my resentment;
But to know you as you are divinely perfect,
T'have rais'd my hopes to certainty of Bliss,
And then to lose you might tempt a Soul less fondly
Passionate to prophane like me, and rail
At things most sacred; forgive th'extravagance
Of an impetuous despair.

Mar.
Do not ask it.

Lor.
Is that too much, must I be loaded too
With your disdain; alass, my Miseries
Were before too heavy to support:
Is't not enough to see you torn for ever
From me, the All of good I'ad fix'd my Soul on;
But must you hate the Wretch you have undone.

Mar.
O talk not thus, suspect, despise me, rail again,
'Tis easier so to part; but can I see you
With all this moving grief, and melting softness,
And Ever think of parting: O if the apprehension
Be thus tormenting whilst you still are with me,
What will it be when we'ere for ever parted.

Lor.
You have forgiv'n me then, and do not hate me,
But time and absence will set me distant to your thoughts,
And Duty reconcile you to the King's affection,
Which once was not displeasing:
Whilst every sad reflection will aggravate my Grief,
His happiness doubles my misery,
To think him in possession of what I'm curst
To live without, blest with your soft Society,
Transported in your fond Embraces, every hour
Of Day and Night charm'd with some new endearing
Tenderness. O the distracting Vision!
How will it torture all my Senses, gnaw
On my bleeding heart, to add such wounding stings
To my despair.

Mar.
If thus for you to imagine,
How much more terrible for me to bear:
But let not that disturb you.

Lor.
Indeed I ought not
To disturb you with it, but from your sight
Remove the Image I am now of wretchedness,
And giving up my self in silence to my Fate,
Let desperation work I feel 'twill soon
Be its own remedy, Madam, farewel
Inquire not, I conjure you, what becomes
Of lost Lorrain, least it afflict you in in the hearing;
Be blest as Love and Empire join'd can make you.

Mar.
O stay Lorrain, I cannot let you leave me
In the thought I e're can be anothers;
I may be forc'd from all that's dear to me,
But Fate it self has not the power against
My will to give me, on that rely, and judge it
By my Love.

Lor.
Sooth not my pain with vain
Delusive hopes, 'twill make it but more sensible,
By a new Disappointment.

Mar.
'Tis no vain promise,
But fix'd resolution; nor If I wou'd,
Cou'd I meet his Adresses, but with such loathing
As must dash his hopes, and cool the fiercest flame,
[illeg.]o no, Lorrain, when we'er for ever parted
On that reflection bound thy Sorrows think
I past all my dismal hours lamenting,
What I've lost, have nothing else in life
To do, or suffer, and that's, alass, too much;
O more than I can bear.

Lor.
I ne'er can be secure you'll not be his,
Whilst there's a possibility you may;
'Twill tear my heart with agitating fears,
Worse than the certainty of what I fear;
But if you're truly thus resolv'd against him.
Why may you not be mine?
'Tis a nice scruple, of no solid weight,
What Injury to him, that I possess
What he can ne'er enjoy;

Mar.
You need not Arguments, one tender look,
One soft request, is more perswasive reason!
They tell me we had never doted thus,
Had Destiny not meant us for each other.

Lor.
Then when it gave your heart, Fate Seal'd you mine,
For Love's a power uncontroulable,
And will dispose you all, your heart is mine,
Your lovely Eyes consent, your Tongue no more denies,
Your fainting Body can resist no longer;
O if these pleasing signs of yielding, shou'd
Be false, how cou'd I bear the sudden fall,
From such a height of unexpected joy!
You cannot use such cruelty,
When you have power to bless the Man you love!
I tremble with my fears, and fierce desire;
Speak, can you yet refuse?

Mar.
I have not power.

Lor.
You must not, the Priest without is ready,
Love impatient.

Mar.
And not to be withstood! I feel its force;
We to be safe, the first Assault must fly,
For who cou'd thus be tempted, and deny!

[Exeunt.