University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

Scene. A Garden.
Lorrain lying on a Bank, the Duke of Britain standing by him.
Brit.
For Honour's sake, shake off this Lethargy,
Exert your self, and rouze your Soul to Glory;
Look on this Disappointment as design'd
To set your thoughts on new, on nobler pursuits.

Lor.
I've done with all, my stock of hopes, and Wishes,
All were in one venture, they're lost,
And I've no more to hazard, 'tis not in nature now
To give me a desire.

Brit.
O you're mistaken,
Desires the very Essence of our Being,
As insufficient to it self, the mark
Of our dependance; and this indifference
To all things else, shews you still dote on Marg'rite.

Lor.
Can you think so low, so poorly of me?
Dote on a Woman in her self so vile,
(rising.
So base to me!

Brit.
Then you have no excuse to loyter here,
Neglecting prostrate Nations, that but ask you
To accept Dominion; not Anthony
Whom you so much condemn'd, so carelessly,
So stupidly, threw fortune from him.

Lor.
No, for what he lost in Empire, was o'er pay'd,
In a long pleas'd possession of that Beauty
He priz'd above the World; Blest Anthony!
Who rightly knew t'enjoy with most advantage
Things so mutable, not let reflections
Of the past, devour the present good;
Mark Anthony perhaps rejoyc'd that she
Who once was Cæsar's, now gave him the preference.

Brit.
So cou'd you, you wait but her Submissions, a few Tears.
Some light Excuse, and Vows of future faith,
Wou'd soften, vanquish you, or rather, shew
How much a Slave you are.

Lor.
To a Strumpet!
I disdain it, scorn her, loath her, Damn her—
She has caught me in the nooze, and thinks me fast,
But 'tis most dangerous being in a chain'd
Lyon's reach, whose fury's urg'd, and doubled
By restraint; she'as bound me to her own
Destruction, shall know I am a Husband
But by my Tyranny.

Brit.
Marry'd! then all's defeated.

Lor.
No Britanie, I'll instantly to Naples,
The air she breaths is loathsome; that I am marry'd
Is my Charter for tormenting her, therefore pleases me.

Brit.
And I've been plotting to prevent, what's past.
O Sluggard mischief, that with all thy wings,
Shou'd lag behind, and let desire out-stript thee!

(aside.
Enter the two Neapolitan Lords. Lorrain walking disorderly
1st. Lord.
We've Orders, Sir, from Naples, to tell your Highness
Your delay t'assist 'em forc'd 'em t'accept
The King's concessions, and having giv'n up
The power they held, 'tis now too late t'attempt their freedom.

Lor.
So, Iv'e only then a Wife to govern,
That's work enough. Tell Ferrand I may visit him
Perhaps, to learn the art of Tyrannizing.

2 Lord.
Sure he's not himself!

Brit.
somewhat disturbs him.

2d Lord
It seems some raging passion.

1st. Lord.
And I fear has long possess'd him, bounded
His aspiring thoughts, whose Soul was form'd
To check th'ambition of usurping Kings,
And keep the World in Balance.

Lor.
She was the same, this very false, polluted
Creature, when first she charm'd me, when ev'ry look,
When every tender word, gave me transporting
Pleasure! Not dreaming they were all dissembled;
O what a happiness have I exchang'd
For a sad knowledge! The Curse of Adam, is
Entail'd on all his Race, and those who know
The most, are the most wretched

Brit.
You see him discompos'd, my Lords, and since
You have no more t'expect, 'twere best to leave him.

1 Lord
We will, tho' griev'd to leave him thus, for much
I honour'd him.

Ex. Lords.
Brit.
I wish, Sir, I had known your Marriage sooner,
Perhaps it had been better—yet you may find—
—O Curst design—but—'tis past—well, she's your Wife
Lorrain—it concerns you now to think the best,
She may be wrong'd—believe it, I advise you,
Restore her to your Love—for your own sake forget,
Or by her future conduct, judge the past.
[Ex. Brit.

Lor.
Forget! Restore her to my heart! Guilty,
And shameless, to triumph in her treachery,
Allur'd to prostitute embraces, the relicks
Of another's satiated Lust;
O vile immagination!—.
And this they durst design t'impose upon me,
The King, and his cast—confound 'em!
Was I sought out, as fit for such a purpose!
With Slavish appetite, to take contentedly
The scraps he had thrown from him! By all my wrongs,
They shall not find me form'd of such tame Stuff—
—Yes Viper you have Stung me,
[Ent. Mar. and Ann.
But yet the Poison has not reach'd my heart,
It but enflames my Blood—Ha here—Yes, you have rouz'd me
To punish both, both partners in so foul, so base an injury!

Mar.
O, my Lord, upon my Knees I beg you but to hear me.

Lor.
No, receive it as a grace that I refuse you,
That I avoid the place where e'er you are,
To spare your shame in looking on the Man
You have abus'd—'tis the last time—O Marg'rite!

[Exit.
Mar.
I came to look my last, and never wou'd
Have troubled you again, nor will pursue him farther;
Here will I cling about my Parent Earth,
Till her kind bosom open to receive,
And free from all woes the most unhappy Child she ever bore.

Ann.
Alass, it is not now
A time for Counsel, or to offer Comfort.

Enter King, Bourbon, and Attendants.
Bour.
What strange Chimera in the form of Honour,
Incites you to oppose your own desires,
To make another wretched? What Paradox
Of resolution! To which both seem averse,
Yet unconstrain'd persue.

King.
Neither I hope averse.

Bour.
Behold her then, whence such depressing grief?
What means that posture of despair?

King.
Weeping, and on the ground? I wou'd not so afflict her
Nor meant to force, but win her inclinations.
Madam, if ought I've done, has caus'd this sorrow,
Believe I hop'd a gratefuller effect;
And will no more oppose Lorrain's Pretensions,
Since I perceive mine give you such disorder.

Mar.
Tyrant you've done what is not in your power to retrieve.

King.
It is, it shall be, I renounce my words,
Resign my Right, and to have no pretence
Of future Claim, transfer it to this Princess,
Who, if She condescend to share with me
The dignity of Sovereign, I give the Power entire.

Ann.
Both I disdain.
What you can give, or be a Partner in,
Must be unworthy me; think not I less
Resent her injuries, than she her self,
Who Sinks beneath their weight;
Or knowing thy vile falsehoods fram'd against her,
Can less abhor th'alliance.

King.
Vile falsehoods! speak Madam, have I done ought,
Not to be justifiy'd to Truth, and Honour?

(to Mar.
Mar.
To Truth! dare you look on me, and affirm it!
(rising.
O, I appeal to Heav'n, and your own Concience,
If you can tax my Honour, with an action,
That I need blush at, tho' Mankind were Witness.

King.
Not tax your Honour, what mean you Madam?

Mar:
Amazing confidence!

Ann.
He that durst do it in the face of Heav'n,
Will not be aw'd by helpless innocence;
But think not your barbarity can fright me
From her Vindication, or publishing thy Infamy.

King.
What Infamy? Wherefore these warm reproaches?
Madam, what e'er your Accusation is,
By all that's great, I am not conscious
To have wrong'd the Princess.

Mar.
O, wherefore this!
What wou'd you more? You've parted me for ever
From Lorrain, and yet have found I priz'd
His Life above my Honour, I've Sacrifis'd it
To your wicked purpose; Is it too little?
Must you insult me in the shame and misery
You have brought on me!

King.
More unintelligible!
What strange delusion has possess'd you both!
How have I prejudic'd your Honour? Or what
Design'd against Lorrain? Who has accus'd me?

Ann.
Think not my Father will conceal your Crimes,
Tho' accessary, to prevent your blacker
Vow'd design; from him I know
Your cruel imposition on the Princess.
Who tho' her value for the life you threatned,
Aw'd her to silence whilst Lorrain was with you—

King.
Still more obscure! what Threats? What Imposition?
How—when Lorrain with me? I have not seen
Lorrain since my return.

Mar.
So obstinate in malice! O too often,
And too fatally you've seen him, had you not boasted
To himself, he cou'd not have beleiv'd
On less authority, such shame of me,
With which you only know how falsely you asperse me.

King.
And this the Duke of Brittannie affirms?

Mar.
Lorrain affirms it, too nearly struck
In my dishonour, to bear it Silently,
Urg'd with contempt, and rage, declar'd you Author.

King.
'Tis false as Hell, a base invention, fram'd
To justify his change, the Coward's Honour,
And the Villain's vertue, fearing t'avow
Their nature's smallest frailty, dare to disguise it
By the blackest crimes, an impious Courage!

Ann.
Such is thine,
That guilty first of the most hellish Actions,
Dar'st throw the infamy on those thou'st injur'd.

King.
Madam, again I assert my innocence,
More is not to be said when Ladies rail;
Lorrain I know to answer, confront me with him,
By Royalty, by my more Sacred Honour,
Which he had dar'd prophane he shall confess it;
Search, search him instantly, summon him here
To face an injur'd King—No, warn'd he may fly
In dread of my just Vengeance; my self will trace him,
Through all the Pallace, resound the hateful Name,
Lorrain false, treacherous Lorrain, Lorrain.

(going.
Enter Lorrain.
Lor.
Sure the King's voice—and darest thou call Lorrain!
Whose sight to thy confusion, must upbraid thee
With his Wrongs, less insupportable
In what unjustly thou detain'st of mine,
Than what to free thy self, thou woud'st impose on me
But tho' I've thrown the vile dishonour off,
The base design, shall not be unaveng'd.

King.
I dare defie thee, back'd with all the power
Of thy Confederate Friends, who help'd thy malice
In this black Contrivance, and gives thee now
A rash, infernal daring to persist in falsehood
To me, thus boldly, who must know it false,
As surely as thou know'st me innocent,
Of thy invented Scandal on the Princess.

Ann.
Your Justice cannot now Lorrain, give credit
To a Man you've heard deny, what first
He to your self affirm'd, that shews him false,
And when you know how he persu'd his treachery against the Princess—

Lor.
Madam, her Injuries concern me not,
How I have been abus'd, I know from him.

King.
From me! Unworthy Prince! Dar'st thou in arms
Defend thy Accusation? Thou can'st not be
So desperate, t'expose thy Life, in such
A wicked cause; therefore recant, or doubt not
In thy Blood, my Honour shall be clear'd.

Lor.
I accept thy Challenge, be the injur'd Victor.

King.
The guilty, in this Infamy be punish'd,
Discover'd to his never dying shame, and all Mankinds contempt.

Lor.
Then to the World
Proclaim it, witness thy self against the guilty,
And thy own words be prooff.

[Giving him the Letter.
King.
My hand it is.
[Reads it to himself.
What it contains is a base Lye, and this
A Forgery, more plausibly to throw the villany on me.

Lor.
Oh 'tis too late, she has her self confess'd it.

King.
Confess'd!

Ann.
Thou know'st she durst not otherwise,
to Lor.
fearing your Life, which if she justify'd her self, he vow'd to take.

King.
Distraction! When? To whom?

Ann.
The Duke of Britannie, who saw you in his power,
(to Lor.
And had he warn'd had giv'n you certain death:
Forced (to prevent it) on that fatal Message,
But just declar'd that moment when the Tyrant
Met with you and Austria.

Lor.
Your Story's ill concerted, till now I have not met him.

King.
Thou speak'st a truth, tho' to abuse it, serving
Thy falsehood with it; what depths of impious cunning!
This was contriv'd to be secure from Austria's vengeance,
Mine thou shalt not escape, prepare for thy defence
Against my single Sword, me thou hast injur'd,
And 'tis not just Nations shou'd be engag'd for private wrongs,

Lor.
I thank thee, as the most equal,
'Tis the speediest way, and suits with my impatience;
Did not the presence of two noble Princesses
Make the place sacred, here I wou'd engage thee;
Marg'rite has forfeited all the respect
Due to her Birth, and it wou'd please my justice,
In her sight to punish the Accomplice
Of her shame, her treachery, for that's
The vilest part, the mean deceit to me;
With what engaging Arts, what shew of tenderness!
O 'twas deceitful all—but how transporting!
Wou'd thou cou'd'st perswade—what wou'd my easy heart!
It softens, seems to shake my Resolution,
And I grow tame in gazing—Thou shalt not triumph—
I disdain—my Soul resumes her self—
She shall not—

Mar.
If e'er Lorrain—

Lor:
Do not talk—
I must not stay to hear thee—think not—never—
I will not see thee more—We, Sir, shall meet.

(going
Enter Duke of Austria.
Aus.
Stay, Brother, all is well, we've been abus'd,
And wrong'd my Sister, she's innocent Lorrain.

Lor.
Blest Voice! oh, my eas'd heart 'twas just screw'd up
To such a height, it must have been relax'd,
Or break; Oh how shall we attone? How be forgiv'n?

Aus.
You know not yet how I have learn'd the truth.

Lor.
No matter, you have said she's innocent,
I'd not enquire farther, least it shou'd raise a doubt,
But here you swear, and gaze, and swear it too;
She is, I see it in her eyes, I know it
By my heart, I cannot bear the pleasure
That it feels—a change to such extreams!
The sudden transport kills! Oh, tis too much!

Aus.
This will remove all doubts, and fully clear her.

(gives a Letter.
Lor.
What? From whence?—'Tis needless—but it speaks
Of Margarite, and Innocence, and I will read it.

Aus.
The Duke of Brittanie has secretly
Withdrawn from Paris, and left this Letter
To be giv'n me, and do my Sister justice.

Mar.
A faithful Friend. Now Tyrant all thy malice will appear.

Aus.
The King is innocent of this deceit,
And Brittanie the sole Contriver.

Ann.
How!

Aus.
Madam, your pardon, on his own authority
I may presume to speak it.

Ann.
Let truth be known, who ever it condemn.

Aus.
A raging, hopeless,
Love for Margarite, he says, inspir'd this desperate
Contrivance, to prevent her Marriage with Lorrain;
But hearing it already was perform'd,
Repenting of successless mischief, this confession
Is all the satisfaction he can make.

Lor.
Gladly, I forgive thee.

King.
The Princess Margarite already marry'd!

Aus.
Yes, Sir, by my consent, scorning she shou'd
Attend, till you thought fit to cast her off,
I gave her to a Prince deserves her better.

King.
Austria, you judg'd my words with too much heat,
I wou'd have kept my faith with Margarite,
And offer'd her the Crown, as she in justice
To me, must confess.

Mar.
I must indeed—a truth that has undone me!

(aside.
King.
This I declare to court a reconcilement, not asham'd
To own I had rather have a Gallant Man
My Friend, than Enemy.

Aus.
I am no Enemy but to Injustice,
To Honour, in whom ever found a Friend,
By that you now engage me.

King.
Since Margarite has acquitted me, may I presume
Most noble Princess, you are not displeas'd
To find my Honour clear'd.

(to Ann.
Ann.
Judge by my past behaviour, in this case
The means by which you're justify'd, makes silence best become me.

Aus.
Are you convinc'd Lorrain?

Lor.
Convinc'd! struck dumb with shame, and conscious guilt.
I dare not speak to her.

Aus.
She is all mildness? not a spark of my too fiery temper,
Calm, and forgiving, with the same tenderness
Will now receive you, as you had never wrong'd her.

Lor.
I do not ask it, here devest my self
Of the authority a Husband claims,
And new begin my Suit; look on me, Madam,
As an humble, guilty Suppliant,
Who will submit to any sufferings
That may prevail upon your pity, and readmit
Him to your favour.

Mar.
Assist me Heaven!

Ann.
Now my poor Friend, does not your melting heart
Repent your Vow?

Mar.
But shall not break it tho' 'tis a cruel tryal!

Lor.
You will not deign an Answer, I deserve none
But to reproach me; in this submissive posture,
(kneels
That speaks my heart, and my dejected state, insult me then.

Mar.
O Lorrain, wou'd you have heard me speak
In my defence, all might have yet been well.

Lor.
'Tis not to be excus'd, nor can I hope
You shou'd be less obdurate to my prayers,
Or blame you tho' you never do forgive, or hear or see me more,

Mar.
Rise, my dear Lord, I from my Soul forgive you.

Lor.
You call'd me dear, O can you love me still.

Mar.
More than my Life,—yet we must part for ever.

Lor.
Is that forgiving! What can your hate do worse?

Mar.
In vain we oppose our Destiny, which first
Reviv'd the King's Affection, to disjoin us;
Yet still we strove with fate, broke to each other
Through all Obligations, Conscience, and Honour;
What Judgment next was sent to part, and shew us
Heav'n was displeas'd—

Lor.
But now is reconcil'd, cou'd you be so.

Mar.
A Solemn, and irrevocable Vow,
Now serves the Will of Heav'n; by so immediate
Punishment, so plainly pointed at my guilt,
Made conscious of it, I vow'd if Heav'n wou'd clear
My Fame, for ever to deprive my self
Of the dear Cause both of my Sin, and Sufferings;
My Prayers granted, shews the Sacrifice accepted.

Lor.
'Tis, Madam, you have now full power
To gratifie your hatred, and disdain.

Mar.
Alass, Lorrain, can we contend with Heav'n?

Aus.
'Twas rashly made, and not obligatory,
Null'd by your Marriage-Vow.

Mar.
That was it self null'd by my former Contract.
Yet cou'd the King's consent now justify it,
'Tis cancell'd by a greater, allow'd you know
Of force to breake it, wedding us to Heav'n.

Aus.
I wish indeed it never had been made.

Lor.
Do you confirm it? What authority,
What Law—but 'tis in vain, no Casuists,
No Canons, can convince like inclination,
You wou'd have it so,—
Go, Madam, and be satisfy'd you shall
Have full revenge, if when you have left me
I e'er forgive my self, or tast a joy,
Or end my Miseries but with my Death,
May they be doubled on me after Death.

Mar.
Must I give such affliction! My poor Lorrain,
Your Sufferings are the saddest part of mine!

Lor.
All will be well, I have not long to suffer.

Mar.
This is the fatal grief, that seeks no vent,
But inward works, and preys upon the Vitals;
his Eyes are fix'd, despair seems to have chill'd his Blood,
and stupify'd his Sence! I cannot see him thus!
My Lord, my Love, what must I—
O Madam, now assist, take, force me from him.
Or I shall yield, forget my Vow, fly perjur'd
To his Arms, and bring a heavier Curse
On this dear Prince, than that he now laments.

Lor.
Be not concern'd for me, I can submit
Without repining, to your Will; may I not take
One parting Kiss? I shall no more disturb you.

Mar.
Oh my heart!

Lor.
She pants, and trembles in my Arms!
O can you love me thus, and leave me! No,
You will not, cannot! Say, can you tear your self
From my fond clinging Arms? Now whilst I hold you
To my panting heart, now pluck it from my breast,
Now say you'll leave me, will you Marg'rite?

Mar.
Never, never, I'm rooted here,
What is there in our Loves to displease Heav'n?

Lor.
Nothing, we're join'd by Heav'n, and all these joys,
These raptures, are divine!

Ann.
She's lost! What resolution can be trusted!

Mar.
Grudge me not one moments bliss,
Since 'tis my last.

Lor.
Ages are yet to come.

Mar.
No more, I dare not trust my self again
In those bewitching arms; O, do not tempt me
To our mutual ruin.

Lor.
What means my Love! Was all this kindness then
But feign'd, to torture me more exquisitely!
When my desire enflam'd, flush'd with my hopes,
In reach of all my joys to snatch 'em from me!

Mar.
I wish I better cou'd command my self,
For both our quiets; but yet my heart, acquainted
As it is with grief, cannot in sight
Of my Lorrain, be quite insensible of joy,
For 'tis a blessing but to look on thee;
Must I lose that too, never see thee more!
If Life's a good, why is it not ta'en from me,
When I'm depriv'd of every other good?
But then 'tis misery, and therefore left me,
O Tyranny of Fate!

Lor.
If this concern is real, can'st thou leave me?
Or can I see thee thus, and part with thee!

Mar.
Think it dissembled, if 'twill be for your quiet;
Think any thing to make your loss the lighter.

Lor.
No, I know thou Lov'st me, I know thou canst not
See thy poor Lorrain, thus trembling, weeping,
Fainting at thy Feet, and not relent;
(kneells
Thou know'st I never can have ease without thee,
And will't thou make me wretched? Will you not look on me?

Mar.
I dare not, O Madam, Brother.

Ann.
We'll attend you.

Mar.
No, I conjure you stay to comfort him,
You ne'er can give me any, but to hear
Lorrain's at peace, if I sought comfort wou'd,
I go from him!

Lor.
Stay Marg'rite, thus prostrate I intreat thee,
I will not ask thee not to leave me, but will't thou
Leave me thus?—Sure we shou'd part like Lovers,
Take a thousand sad Adieus, one last
Embrace, can'st thou deny me that? Remember
'Tis my last request, and the last blessing
Thou will't ever give me—she turns, I cannot
Rise to meet thee; O hasten to my Arms
Whilst they have strength to clasp thee,
Or my faint life will fail me e'er you reach 'em.

Mar.
I am half vanquish'd, but in looking on thee!
I must not—yet I wou'd take—O 'twill undoe us—
Can I refuse—O Lorrain, what do I suffer
When languishing to meet thy expecting Arms,
I tear my self for ever, ever, from thee!

(Ex. led by Women.
Aus.
She faints, support, lead her away—Lorrain,
Bear your self like a Man, my friend, you've lost
Nothing essential to your happiness,
Was Marg'rite wanting to it, e'er you knew her?
Your state is now the same; our false immaginations
Gives us necessities, that nature wou'd not feel.
Can make our peace depend on every thing
It represents a good, tho' the most forreign to it!
Think your self now, as if you ne'er had known my Sister.

Lor.
Preach to a Wretch that's tortur'd on the rack,
Bid him imagine he's at ease—do I not feel?
Is it not real misery to lose
The only thing I love? Cou'd I have lov'd
If I had never known her? Sophistick nonsence!
Here, here, are these pangs nothing?—Why did you
(rising
Let her go?—Think you I'll live without her?

Aus.
Be Calm, we must submit.

Lor.
I will not,
She's my Wife; I'll claim her from the Priests,
From Heav'n, I'll claim her at the Altar, rage,
Curse, invoke—something I will do there,
Or dye, or force her thence—I will not bear.
(Ex. Lor.

Ann.
Unhappy Pair! let us correct our selves
By these Examples, seeing how vainly
They sought happiness, in following
Unruly passion, that blind, as rash, ever
With inconsiderate hast, obstructs it's own designs.

Aus.
'Tis a blind guide indeed, yet with well meaning zeal
But leads us from our way; base treachery
Taking by Paths, through dark and muddy ways,
Sinks us in filth, which tho' we gain our end,
Exposes us to shame, Discovering
The vile Steps we trod.

King.
But we who sacrifis'd to Vertue, our desires,
Have in submissively resigning,
Obtain'd our utmost Wishes; th'event of things
Wise Providence directs, leaves nothing to our care,
Or charge, but our own actions;
Yet with Preposterous idle diligence,
We to dispose of Destiny project,
And the small Provence in our power neglect.