University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE A Forrest.
Enter Gustavus, Erici, Fredage, Laura, two Swedish Gentlemen, and Attendants.
Gust.
That we have 'scap'd so imminent a Danger,
Gain'd with so little loss, tho' close pursu'd,
The favourable Covert of this Forrest,
First let us bow to Heav'n in humble Thanks;
Next, my brave Friends, the worthy Instruments
Of Providence to save us: Be yours the Praise,
And glad Acknowledgment, of every Swede,
Who to your timely Notice of the Archbishop's
Purpose, ows his Life.

Gent.
My Noble Lord,
All who are present know, the Soldiers owe
Their safe Retreat to your sole Valour, each
Aiming only to secure himself;
Whilst you almost almost alone sustain'd the Fury
Of the Enemy: Exposing for,
The fearful Herd, a Life more worth than the whole Flock.

2 Gent.
Yet may we claim the Glory of their Safety,
Since all had been inevitably lost,
Had not our Diligence warn'd and preserv'd
Their valiant General for their Defence.

Erici.
'Twas fortunate, indeed, to have such Friends
So near, and unsuspected, to the Viceroy;
Else, my Lord, your trusty stout Dalecarlians
Wou'd have but ill secur'd you; soon as you left
The Village, when yet you scarce had joyn'd your Men,
Th'Archbishop enter'd it with all his Forces;
And follow'd at our Heels.

Gust.
Confess, Erici,
Since we're now secure, do'st thou not feel
A sullen spightful Joy, for that we've been
Endanger'd, and prov'd thy Fears Prophetick.

Erici.
In truth, my Lord, I shall not much deny it,
Nor you, I hope, that you have in some Moments
Repented of rejecting my Advice.

Gust.
I never shall repent of being Just,
Or judge my Actions by th'uncertain Rule
Of their Event. How is't my lovely Charge?
[To Fredage.
Thou'st been but ill encourag'd to the War,
By this Essay; thy Fear had almost lost thee;
Scarce had it left thee Pow'er t'avoid the Danger
Which had rais'd it.

Fred.
Methought, my Lord, I ran
As valiantly as any of your Heroes,
Who had all the Prudence to retire, not hazarding a Blow.

Enter a Soldier.
Sold.
Collonel de Sassi greets my Lord Gustavus,
And with Twelve hundred Germans, is arriv'd
Within a quarter of an Hours slow March,
From the South entrance of the Forrest.

Gust.
They're welcome;
Wou'd they had been arriv'd some few Hours since,
We had not turn'd our Backs upon the Danes,
But found 'em nobler Work—Nay then 'tis not
Too late, my noble Friend, Count Arwide too,
[Enter Count Arwide.
Without a Warning come t'increase my Joy—By the Surprize.

Arw.
No Messenger so swift,
Whose tardy haste wou'd not have lag'd behind,
And been prevented by my eager Love;
Oh how it joys my Soul, to see you safe
After th'Alarm I have had of your late Danger,
I durst not trust Reports, but left my Forces
'Twixt this and Stockholm, where you order'd me
To joyn you; Yet am I well accompany'd:
Many brave Swedes Alarm'd and Fearing for
Your Safety, met me on the Way, and flock
To your Assistance.

Gust.
They're Friends indeed to seek me in Distress,
In my low Ebb of Fortune; nor shall we want
Employment for their Love: In a most happy
Hour are you come to turn our past Misfortune
To much Advantage, and retaliate double
On the Foe, the Mischief they design'd us.

Arw.
How how my Lord? Command your faithful Soldier,
Who knows but to obey you.

Gust.
We're inform'd
Th'Arch-Bishop purpos'd to return directly
Back to Stockholm. This Gentleman we Credit
On your Intelligence.

Gent.
My Lord I dare
Assure you he's engag'd to bring the Garrison
E'er Night into the City, whether you scap'd
By Flight, or fell into his Pow'r; as with
Proud boasting he promis'd to the Viceroy.

Gust.
Triumphing in our Flight, the haughty Prelate
No doubt will March secure and confident
Not fearing any Enemy so near
Who dare encounter him; E'er this he's on
His way, yet may our diligence prevent him.
You, Arwide, by the shortest Passage, haste
To joyn your Troops, they're posted to advantage,
And may with ease retire into the Woods
That lie betwixt the Arch-Bishop and the City,
Who cannot fail to fall into the Ambush;
My self, with the Dalecarlians, and what Supplies
Are newly brought me, will observe his motion,
And follow him at a convenient distance
To fall upon the Rear, and cut off their Retreat.
Our time is precious, hast my gallant Friend.

Arw.
Doubt not, your Orders shall be executed
With utmost expedition, and our next Meeting be
With double Joy of Friends and Conquerors.
Exit Count Arwides

Gust.
Come my brave Countrymen, each to retrieve
This Days disgrace, exert himself—But thou Supream
Disposer of Events, on Thee we must depend,
Confessing Humane Prudence all but vain.
Unblest by thy implor'd o'erruling Pow'r;
Oh aid the juster side that in the happy
Consequence of this Days danger, all
May adore the Wonders of thy Wisdom!

Exeunt omnes; manet Fredage.
Fre.
My trembling Heart forebodes I know not what
of Terror in this hopeful Expedition;
Why do I dread what will enflame
The meanest Soldiers Courage? Are our Souls too
Like their frail Mansions of weaker frame than Mans?
Or can the force of Custom and Opinion
Effect this difference? 'Tis so, the Hero
Who undaunted, faces Death midst Cannons,
Swords and Javelins, sinks under the less
Honourable Dangers of Pain, Disease,
Or Poverty, below a Womans weakness:
And we whom Custom bars this active Valour,
Branding it with Reproach, shrink at th'Alarm
Of War, but where our Honour's plac'd, we oft
Have shewn in its Defence a no less Manly daring.
Yet Death is still the same in every Form,
And every where my Friend, I'll try to Face him in
The dreadfull'st Pomp and Horrors of the Battle.

[Exit.
The Scene changes to the Entrance of a Wood. Enter The Arch-Bishop, Beron, Officers and Soldiers, with Constantia and Maria Prisoners.
Arch.
We, whilst our Infantry advance, will keep
A slower Pace;
These Woods invite us to a short Refreshment
Beneath their pleasing Shades; I think we need
Not fear the irresistable Gustavus
Shou'd disturb us.

Ber.
No, my Lord, unless
He in his fright mistook the way and ran
Into these Woods for shelter.

Arch.
Yes, Beron,
He can run, the desp'rate Youth who for a while
Brav'd my whole Army, thought fit at last to turn
His Back, and fled as nimbly as the rest;
Oh that pernicious Forrest that stop'd my Course
Secur'd him from my Vengeance and his impending Fate!

Beron.
Your Grace has gain'd sufficient Glory from
This Days success, to hearten our disponding
Party, and damp the boldest Rebels hopes;
Their General's flight and the Renown'd Count Arwide's
Beauteous Wife your Pris'ner, are advantages
That bound not in themselves, but guide the view
To a large Prospect of Consequences,
Far beyond, and of most high importance.

Arch.
For this we are indebted to thy Prudence,
So shall the Viceroy know, that by thy happy
Foresight and Advice we seiz'd this noblest Treasure
Left by Gustavus with inadvertant Fear,
In the Deserted Village, an unguarded Prey.

Const.
A worthy boast! That with deep Consultation
Four Thousand Valiant Soldiers have secur'd
A weak defenceless Woman.

Arch.
'Tis Glorious Vengeance!
Already I behold the lost Gustavus,
Sullen, and gnawing on his Discontents;
Then Furious, raging at the curst disgrace,
Thus to be driv'n by his Mortal Foe!
But when forsaken by his dearest Friend,
Count Arwide to preserve this valu'd Hostage
Forc'd to desert his weaken'd Party. How will he then
Exclaim on Fates Injustice! The Treachery of Men,
And Curse his rash attempt.

Const.
The Sacred Pow'r forbid
That my poor Country be for my Redemption,
Depriv'd of the least Aid against our Tyrants.
Oh rather let me fall a Sacrifice
To their Inhuman Vengeance!

Arch.
To our Justice,
For 'tis of Right to punish lawless Rebels
In their Alliance and curst Progeny.
But Interest of State, may bate of right,
And grant your Life to awe a powerful Rebel.

Const.
Wisely that branded Name has been apply'd,
For a pretence to such Barbarities,
As else must have bare Fac'd confess'd themselves,
In their most horrid Form.
Is it Rebellion for a wretched People
Oppress'd and Ruin'd, by that Power they gave
For their Defence, the safety of their Rights,
To seek Redress? When Kings who are in Trust
The Guardians of the Laws, the publick Peace and Welfare,
Confess no Law but Arbitrary Will,
Or know no use of Pow'r but to Oppress,
And Injure, with Impunity, themselves
Disown their Office, tacitly acquit
The People, of whose due Obedience, just
Protection, is the Natural and Essential Condition.

Arch.
Excellent Maxims, to perpetuate Confusion!
Pernicious Principles! Which ev'n those
Whose turn they serve against the Reigning Prince,
Gladly disclaim when their own Pow'rs establish'd,
Then wou'd they be obey'd as Heav'ns Vicegerents,
Accountable to none but him they represent.

Const.
Wou'd Princes govern as if they themselves
Believ'd they were accountable to Heav'n,
There had been no occasion to contest
Whether their Pow'r be of Divine, or Humane
Institution; But when such impious Cruelties
Are practis'd, as our Sweden long has been
The Scene of (under this too justly stil'd
The Northern Nero) strong necessity,
Becomes the Peoples Casuist, proves that Piety
And Justice must allow that self-defence, to which
Nature so universally incites.

Arch.
Nature indeed, for Mutiny, a Love
Of Novelty, and Spirit of Rebellion,
Are Nature in the giddy Multitude;
Humour and headstrong Will their Casuist,
Unknowing of that specious Sophistry,
With which their Factious Leaders gild their Cause.
Not the Kings Cruelty, but too Imprudent
Partial Clemency, gave Rise to this Revolt;
Had he not spar'd the Sons of those his Justice doom'd,
Had Young Gustavus, when his Pris'ner, shar'd
His Fathers Fate, the King had Reign'd securely,
And Sweden been in Peace.

Const.
Most true, My Lord,
The Tyrant shou'd have spar'd no generous Swede,
Whom breach of publick Faith, the Law of Nations,
And Murther of so many Innocents,
Cou'd prompt; or to Redress, or to Avenge
Their Countries Wrongs.—But can you thus insulting,
Or without Terror, name those noble Victims
Whose Blood still cries for Vengeance! They, My Lord,
Were sure no Rebels, relying on the Faith
Of Treaties; Solemn Oaths, and the smooth Face of Peace,
Secure they went as to a Friendly Feast,
The Band of Union; but with barbarous Treachery,
Themselves were made th'inhumane Banquet,
To glut the Luxury of sanctify'd Revenge,
And Cruelty.

Arch.
No, Rebels! Dare you vindicate those Wretches
Accurst, with sacred, solemn Excommunication.
Was not the Cause of Piety concern'd,
The Int'rest of our Holy Faith engag'd,
T'expel such Poys'nous Vipers from the Earth?

Const.
The Cause of Piety! Can that Religion
Of which the Spirit, and distinctive Character
Is Mercy; forgiving Injuries and Universal Love,
Can it e'er authorize Revenge? Incite
To Persecution, and Bloody Massacres?
Well may Infidels be scandaliz'd
At our most Holy Faith, when its Professors
Themselves impute to it the most unnatural
Impieties? VVell may Religions sacred Name
Be fall'n to Contempt, when thus abus'd,
To serve the vilest, the most impious Ends!

Arch.
Is it for you
To judge of your Superiors, t'instruct your Guide?
When Women preach, 'twill be with Luther's Aid;
A blessed Reformation.

Const.
Not to instruct, my Lord, but to awake;
You've shut your Eyes against our present Miseries
And future Dangers, else wou'd you not oppose
Your Countries Liberty, or give pretext
To Luther's growing Schism, which (with its fatal
Consequences) will all be set to the Account
of those Ambitious Church-Men, who've turn'd
The Spiritual Pow'r, to Secular Tyrannical
Dominion, and giv'n Libertines occasion
In detecting the Usurp'd, to throw off
Undistinguish'd, the just Authority.

Arch.
Insolent Assertions!
Such are th'Insinuations which support
Your Party—But we shall quell these impious
Reformers—Beron, lead on your Pris'ner,
We shall try if Sweden's great Deliverer
Can save himself.

[Going, a Soldier enters hastily.
Sold.
O haste, my Lord! Your Grace's presence
Is necessary to re-assure your Men,
Who in dismay.

Arch.
What! Do the Cowards fear
A flying Enemy?

Sold.
An Ambush from
The farther Woods, broke suddenly upon
Our Infantry, shouting Count Arwide's Name;
All struck with Terror, in disorder fly,
Or fall without resistance.

Const.
My Lord arriv'd?

Arch.
In an unlucky Hour!
Curse, Curse on Fortune, that with a random Throw,
A Hit of Chance, defeats the wisest Purpose!
Oh Confusion—You Beron, stay with these
To guard Constantia; observe whilst we engage
The Enemy, which way you, without Opposition,
May gain the City; But on your Life secure her.

Going, a Soldier enters at another Door.
2d Sold.
My Lord, we are pursu'd, Gustavus with
A num'rous Army, has set upon our Rear.

Arch.
Screech-Owl! Gustavus! this is then my way.

Enter a third Soldier.
3d Sold.
Where, where's his Grace?
We're all lost Men, my Lord, your Army is surrounded,
No possibility to 'scape is left us.

Arch.
Nay then their Victory will cost 'em dear,
Valour exasperated by Despair, may prove.
More fatal to the Victor, than the Vanquish'd.
[Ex. Archb.

Const.
'Tis Just, 'tis Just, to humble this proud Prelate;
Can such Events as this be accidental,
A Hit of blind unaiming Chance? Or is,
What Men call Chance, the Hand of secret Providence,
Guided by Springs unseen, to a determin'd End?
It must be so, 'tis that o'er-ruling Wisdom
Detain'd my Lord just to this pointed Hour,
By ways so seeming opposite to compass
The Tyrant's destin'd Ruin.

Beron in dumb shew sends two Soldiers several ways.
Enter Christina and Laura.
Laur.
This place is safe, the Entrance well defended
By that close Covert we have pass'd, secures us.

Chris.
Art sure we're not pursu'd?

Laur.
Hark, a Noise, no,
Wou'd we were farther from the reach of Danger.

Chris.
Our Fears wou'd still pursue us—Thou may'st be
Allow'd to fear Death might cut off thy Youth
From many Blessings; But wherefore do I fly
The sole Reliever of my Miseries?
My Reason has adjudg'd Death eligible,
Yet I fear him—
What is it thus divides us from our selves?
What Composition this, that can desire
What it most disapproves, and dread what it esteems?

Ber.
Ha! What are those? Be on your Guard,
They must be Enemies. Two Youths unfollow'd,
Seize 'em, we'll know, or disappoint their Purpose.

Guards lay hold on Chris. and Laura.
Chris.
Ha! Whether are we fall'n? What means this Violence?

Ber.
What brings you hither from the general Battle?

Chris.
My Husband! Speak, speak to him, I dare not.

Ber.
Say, What are ye?

Lau.
Men of Peace, who not intending
Hurt to either Party, withdraw from the
Engagement: We're no Objects of your Enmity.

Ber.
That in plain Terms wou'd be, We're arrant Cowards,
Howe'er ye seem of Note; And in Exchange,
One Prisoner of Rank, will be accounted
For many braver Men.

Chris.
Inevitably lost!

Ber.
Thou'rt soon return'd, What Tidings dost thou bring?

Lau.
Oh cruel Destiny!

Chris.
Oh that I'd perish'd
One of the Guards sent by Ber. out, returns, they talk apart.
In the Battle! My treacherous Fears have led me
To a Fate, far, far more Terrible
Than that from which they sav'd me! Now I cou'd
Brave those Dangers, encounter any Enemy,
But an incens'd, relentless, barbarous Husband.

Ber.
Desp'rate, say'st thou?

Sold.
Some few, encourag'd by his Grace, do yet
Maintain a vigorous Defence against
Gustavus, not in hope of Victory,
They only sell their Lives at dearer Rates
Than those who fell before 'em.

Const.
What of Count Arwide,
Know'st thou ought of him?

Sold.
I mark'd him not,
But just in entring the Wood, methought
I heard confus'dly, the Soldiers shout his Name.

Const.
Alas I know not what their Shouts import,
Perhaps his loss.

Beron's 2d Messenger enters at another Door.
Ber.
Is thy Success no better?
Or have we any Hope?

Sold.
Sir, you with ease
May gain the City, there's not an Enemy
This way t'oppose you.

Ber.
How! Is the Fortune of the Battle turn'd?

Sold.
All's lost, our Infantry intirely routed,
Almost all cut off; some few who fled
Towards Stockholm, Count Arwide suffer'd to escape,
Hasting from their Pursuit to join Gustavus.

Const.
He yet is safe, Oh guard him, guard him ever.

Ber.
How may we pass unnotic'd?

Sold.
This side is clear,
Nought to oppose your passage but heaps of Dead,
We may securely bear our Pris'ners off.

Ber.
With Expedition then—be thou our Guide,
You follow with the Youths, this Lady is my Charge.
Let Arwide now account his Gains, with what
He has lost, and yield our Prize th'Advantage.

Const.
You may be forc'd to quit your boasted Prize,
Unless in mad Revenge you'll perish with it;
Yes treacherous Swede, mark that I have foretold thee,
Whate'er my Lord may suffer in Constantia,
All that the Tyrant can on me impose,
Will prove at last most fatal to our Foes.

[Ex. led by Beron.
Chris.
Is there no Remedy? No Tygers to devour,
No Earthquake, to involve me in undistinguish'd
Ruins! No gentler Fate to save me from
A Tyrant Husband's insulting Rage and Vengeance!

Sold.
Come, come along.

Laur.
Be moderate I conjure you,
Your Passion will betray you.

Chris.
Oh 'tis impossible
To be conceal'd from Beron, or to endure
A Fate so strange as this with Moderation!
I'll work it up to Madness, forgetting where,
Or whose, or what I am, rush on insensible
To all his Rigors, and disappoint the Triumph
Of his Vengeance.

[Exeunt omnes.
Enter Gustavus and Arwide severally.
Arw.
The Victory's compleat,
Not one of the fierce Danes who stood the Battle,
But left his Life the Trophy of his Valour,
And now our glorious Work is near accomplish'd,
Through both the Gothlands all have yielded to us,
All have confess'd the Justice of our Cause.

Gust.
The Progress of my gallant Friend's Success,
Has been too swift for Fame.

Arw.
I've profited, my Lord, by your known Maxim,
A Conqueror cannot buy the time he saves too dear.

Gust.
I'm yet to learn many Particulars
Of your late Conquests, but too far have trespass'd
After a tedious March, to have engag'd you
On the most hard Fatigue of this days Action,
And must oblige you now to your Repose.

Arw.
So near to my Constantia, can I find
Repose elsewhere, or wish it but with her!
Forgive your Soldier this confess'd Impatience,
Not as a Woman, as a worthy Friend
I seek Constantia, who with temperate Vertue,
And unbyass'd Reason, confirms my Soul,
Enforces my Esteem, and justifies
My tenderest Affection.

Gust.
Fear not, my Friend, that I shall tax with Weakness
Your Love for such an Object, who constrains
The general Admiration,
In all her Actions, all her Purposes,
Appears a bent to Goodness, greatness of Mind,
And a commanding Virtue; yet seems she not
Insensible of the most tender Passions.

Arw.
Oh! she has all that Softness which endears
And melts the Soul to transport: But superior
Reason holds the Reins, guides and restrains
Her most impetuous Wishes, nor suffers 'em
To bound her to any indirect, unequal Path,
From her determin'd Course.

Gust.
Such is her Excellence, it shames our Praise,
Which has too long detain'd you from a Blessing
Words cannot reach; nor is it less Injustice
To Constantia, I then was with her when
Th'Alarm was brought me, of th'Archbishop's Purpose
To surprize us; and left her in the Village,
Less anxious for her own than for our Safety;
'Twere cruel, longer to deprive her of
Her share in Joy, for this days happy Fortune;
Hast, my Friend, Constantia'll meet the News
From you with double Welcome.

Arw.
Oh you are kind, thus to indulge my Fondness,
Inciting me to what my Soul most eagerly
Desires. Farewel, no other cause cou'd give me Joy,
In parting with Gustavus.

As Arw. is going, an Officer enters from the other side.
Officer.
A Trumpet from the Viceroy demands Admittance
To the Lord Gustavus, and Count Arwide.

Arw.
To me?

Gust.
Conduct him in—'Tis fit you stay,
My Lord, to know the Purport of this Message.

Enter Messenger.
Mess.
Thus to you both, victorious Lords, the Viceroy sends,
'Tis now his turn to take th'Advantage of
His Fortune, since the same Chance of War which gave
So many Danish Lives to yours, has put
Into his Pow'r Constantia, Arwide's Lady.

Arw.
Ha! What say'st thou?

Mess.
She is, my Lord, a Pris'ner
Now in Stockholm; her Liberty on this
Condition offer'd, that you lay down your Arms,
And give your self a Pris'ner in her stead;
No other Ransom will the Viceroy take,
Which if refus'd, her Death is doom'd to morrow.

Arw.
Inhumane Tyranny!

Gust.
Then thus return
Our Answer to the Viceroy—If he dares
Execute his threatned barbarous Sentence,
We vow Revenge by the immediate Death
Of all the Danes who now are in our Pow'r;
Nor think himself secure, e'er long we may
Be Masters of his Fate; and be assur'd,
Whate'er Constantia suffers, his Doom's the same,
And all th'Adherents to his Party.

Arw.
Oh! What Attonement, what Satisfaction were
The Lives of Thousands? We must not hazard thus—

Gust.
Forbear, my Friend, by shewing your Concern,
To give your Enemies yet more Advantage,
'Twill only urge their Cruelty, enhance
The Ransom of their Prize, and more assure
The Fate you fear.

Arw.
I must my self prevent it,
Oh think not I can trust—

Gust.
By all our Friendship
I conjure you, restrain your Passion but
A Moment; leave to my cooler Judgment,
How to work on the mean-spirited
Tim'rous Viceroy; nor interpose, I beg you:
You know our Purpose, so bear it to your Master;
Say I have vow'd, and at his Peril bid him
Tempt our Vengeance.

Mess.
I shall, my Lord, and you will find the Viceroy
Dares your utmost, expect that your next Tidings be,
Constantia's dead.
[Exit Messenger

Arw.
Oh fatal Sound!
My Wife, my only Joy, in whom I'd fix'd
The Recompence of all my Toils; And must
I lose her thus? What's all my Fortune, all
My Glory now?—It cannot, shall not be,
Whilst I have pow'r to save her.

Gust.
Fear not, my Friend,
This Menace only shews the Viceroy wou'd
Secure a Man he dreads: For his own Int'rest
He'll preserve Constantia, whose Death wou'd but
Deprive him of an Hostage, that will for ever
Awe so dangerous an Enemy as Arwide.

Arw.
Oh we have long experienc'd the Danish Cruelty,
Has the Ascendant of their Politicks,
In every Instance of that Tyranny,
By which they have provok'd their own Destruction;
I dare not hazard on any Possibility,
So dear, so irretrievable a Loss;
Nor, if you wou'd not see your Arwide wretched,
Disswade me from preserving her, whom,
If I cou'd out-live; 'twere but to linger out
A miserable Being, unbless'd with any
Sense, or hope of Joy.

Gust.
These are the Sallies
Of unbridled Passion; But recollect
Your Vertue, remember you're devoted to
The Publick, think on your glorious Cause,
On what you owe your Country: Had I deserted it
On Christiern's Summons, Had I laid down my Arms
To save a Mother and a Sister's Life,
How wou'd you have condemn'd me of Weakness and Injustice?

Arw.
You, who are the Head, the Soul of our
Great Enterprize, shou'd own no private Tyes;
I'm not of such Importance, nor can my
Country exact more from me than I pay;
I have not left her Service but with Life,
Nor Life, 'till it was one with Misery,
'Till I no longer cou'd support it.

Gust.
What Privilege have you to be exempted
From suffering your share o'th'common Miseries?
Is't only in the Smiles of Fortunes, encourag'd
With Success, and flush'd with Happiness,
We owe our Country Service? What Traytor
Wou'd not be a Patriot on such Terms?
But if you truly prize your Countries Interest,
Give not our Enemies an Hostage that more
Effectually will bound my Pow'r, than all
Their Opposition.

Arw.
Oh, I conjure you, consider not your Friend
In any Competition with your Country;
Have no regard for me, that may obstruct
Your glorious Enterprize—I know you will not.
But is there room for a Deliberation,
If I shou'd let Constantia perish, to live
A miserable Wretch without her? Or,
Only parting with an equal Blessing
To lose with it, the Sense that I have lost it?
My beating Heart alarms me to Constantia.
One more Embrace.

Gust.
Oh Arwide, must I lose thee! Must the Tyrant
Thus triumph o'er Gustavus?

Arw.
Oh Gustavus!
Spare me th'Addition of thy racking Griefs;
I cannot bear this Struggling in my Soul,
I dare not listen to thee longer: And oh,
Too long has my divided Tenderness
Detain'd me, already may the murd'rous Steel
Be pointed to her Breast—Yet a few Minutes
Heaven restrain their Cruelty! I fly
To save my Love—Then turn thy Care of me
To Blessings on Gustavus—I have no more to ask,
But that my Death may be Constantia's Safety;
And the last Instance the Danes may e'er have Pow'r
To give my Country of their Tyranny.
[Exit Arwide.

Gust.
They cannot give another so afflicting
To me, or to thy Country! All my Success,
The near Accomplishment of my best Hopes,
Cannot bear up my Soul, o'erwhelm'd with Sadness
At this fatal Loss: Alas, my Arwide,
Our promis'd Aid from Lubeck, will, I fear,
Arrive too late for thy Relief, On me
The Tyrant will at last revenge his Ruin.
Oh, cou'd the Pageantry of Pomp and Grandure,
Exempt us from the Sense of private Ills,
'Twere worth the coveting;—But no, my Soul,
Thy utmost Expectation now must be,
To see thy self a glorious Wretch, the certain Fate
Of all, who're destin'd to support the publick Weight.

[Exeunt omnes.