University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

SCENE the Piazza. Enter Manuel and Mervan.
Manuel.
It is my Heart's first Wish; for if my Son
Return victorious home, beside the Glory
That will accrue to him, and our whole Cause,
'Twill rescue my late Deed from the Reproach
Of hasty Rage, and Frowardness of Will,
And place it to the fair Account of Wisdom!

Mer.
How can we doubt Success, my Lord? You mark'd
With what high Joy the Troops went forth to Battle,
As if their fav'rite Leader had inspir'd them:
And sure no Hero ever better grac'd
The noble Front of War, than brave Sophronius;
I saw him mounted on his snow-white Steed,
That mov'd with Pride beneath the Weight he bore;
His Eye beam'd martial Fire; and while the Voice
Of Thousands heap'd their Blessings on his Head,
A crimson Blush (the Badge of modest Merit)
Ting'd o'er his youthful Cheek, as I have seen
A setting Sun bepaint the western Sky.

Man.
May he exceed our most exalted Hopes,
And silence the proud Spleen of Theodore,
That has misconstru'd to the Emperour
The Scope of all our Councils.

Mer.
O 'twas base.
But hark! a Shout, my Lord;—a! Shout of Gladness!
[Shout within.
There's Triumph in that Sound—and see, here's one
Whose Looks proclaim the happy News he brings.

Enter an Officer.
Offi.
Peace to Aleppo; and to Manuel Joy,
Great as his Soul e'er felt—My Lord, your Son
Returns triumphant home; he hastens hither
Quick as the thronging Love of Multitudes
Will give him Leave, and best himself shall tell
The Manner, and the Progress of the Fight.

Man.
What! have we conquer'd? Am I justified?
Thanks to kind Heav'n; methinks I see this Day
Sacred to future Time; Posterity
Will cite the glorious Actions of my Boy,
And Chiefs, that well have fought their Country's Cause,
Hereafter shall be liken'd to Sophronius.
Enter Eusebia attended by Ladies.
Joy to Eusebia, and her gentle Train;
My Child, thy Brother has full well perform'd
A Son's and Soldier's Part—Prepare fresh Wreaths,
Ye Virgins of Aleppo, for your Champion,
And with immortal Verdure deck his Brow.

Eus.
My Lord, I heard the Peoples Shouts, and came
With eager Steps to hail my Brother's Glory—
But hark! himself and Friends are now approaching.

[Trumpet, &c. sound.
Enter Sophronius, Leon, Izrail, and other Officers.
Man.
Welcome my Son, my Captain, my Deliv'rer,
Mine and my People's Boast: How fares my Boy,
[Meets Sophronius, and embraces him.
And these thy Friends, and mine?—I pr'ythee tell me,
Tell me thyself, Sophronius, for I long
To hear the manly Story of the Battle.

Soph.
Sir, to do Justice to Aleppian Valour,
And to brave Leon's Worth this glorious Day,
Were Argument for Rhet'ric's silver Tongue;
Yet briefly as I can, I will essay it.
Soon as we left our Walls, we found the Foe,
In the mid Plain, rank'd in full Pomp of Fight;
Sometime we fought beneath a Cope of Arrows,
That shadow'd either Host—but when we met
In horrible Conjunction, then commenc'd
The Terrours of the Field; then grim-fac'd War
Began his dreadful Game of purple Slaughter,
And, like a wounded Lion, rous'd his Rage
To Deeds of Desperation—Two long Hours,
With Resolution marvellous, as though
The Lordship of the World had been at Stake,
The Flame of Battle glow'd; while Victory
Stood like a Mistress doubtful where to fix,
When two warm Rivals court her gracious Smile.

Man.
There was a Mistress worth contending for.

Soph.
At length I chanc'd to cross the Line of Battle
Where furious Derar fought—a Name renown'd
In yonder Camp—And, as I meant to greet him
With the full Vigour of a Soldier's Arm,
My heedless Step betray'd me, and I fell;
Ruin hung o'er me—when my Friend, my Leon,
Flew like a winged Angel to my Aid,
And on his Spear caught the fierce Derar's Sword.

Man.
It was a noble Deed—and what Reward
He can with Justice ask he shall command.
Mean while pursue thy Tale.

Soph.
The Saracen
Retir'd; but e'er he could regain his Tribe,
A Party of Aleppian Horse inclos'd him,
And, in mad Rage, impatient of Restraint,
Quench'd his high Valour in a glorious Death.
Then first the foremost Ranks gave Way, and soon,
As Fear is most infectious, total Rout
Encumber'd all their Bands—The Word was, Havock,
And thirsty Vengeance caught it—e'er they reach'd
The Camp, the Field was loaded with the Slain.

Man.
O well-fought Day—win such another Conquest,
And these Barbarians shall remove their War.

Eus.
Though thou wast ever dear to me, Sophronius,
Trust me, I love thee now from nobler Motives;
Thy Sister joys the more in thy Deliv'rance,
Because her Country's Safety leans on thine.

Soph.
The best of us are Instruments, Eusebia,
Mov'd by unseen Direction to fulfil
The Purposes of Heav'n—there yield thy Praise—
My honour'd Father, say this Day's Success
Shall sink the Rate of Theodore's high Worth
In his own Estimation—I could wish
To see him Manuel's Friend.

Man.
O he'll not stoop
To due Subjection; yet in Proof, my Son,
That I but hold his Insolence my Foe,
Let his proud Soul descend to such Submission,
As Honour, not the Pride of State demands,
My Hand and Heart again are open to him.

Mer.
So, we may fall in our own Snare, Romanus.

[Aside.
Soph.
Sir, it was greatly said: Early To-morrow
He shall be told the Tenor of this Grace;
Let him divide the Post of Honour with me,
My future Equal, but my Chief no more;
For could we see that Violence of Spirit
Temper'd by Councils less impetuous, Envy
Might witness to the World, the best of Causes
Needs not a better Leader.

Man.
Be it so;
Yet hast thou prov'd this happy Day, Sophronius,
That we can fight, and conquer too without him.
But Son, thy brave Fatigues demand Refreshment:
You and your Friends retire—I'll follow you.
[Exeunt Sophronius, Leon, Izrail, &c. Manent Manuel, Eusebia, and her Attendants.
Come near, Eusebia—I observ'd but now
Thine Eye took sudden Fire at Sight of Leon,
And conscious Blushes kindled on thy Cheek:
Hast thou not smother'd yet thy foolish Flame?
Did I not bid thee shut him from thy Heart?

Eus.
Speak not thus harshly to me, lest I stand
A sad Exception to the gen'ral Joy:
Woman at best is weak—but when she loves—
Sir, you have seen how poorly I disguis'd
My artless Passion, and O look with Pity
Upon my Nature's Fault, nor think it mine.

Man.
So apt, young Mistress? You have learnt, it seems,
The common Plea, the Subterfuge of Folly:
But I well know a Father's Duty, Girl,
Nor will indulge my Child to certain Ruin.

Eus.
My Lord, I live a Debtor to your Care—
Yet now must humbly think no Danger nigh,
But in the Fancy of my Father's Fear.

Man.
The fond Presumption of a doating Maid!
This needy Wooer has beguil'd thy Heart,
And holds thee in the Bands of silken Slav'ry,
Enamour'd not of thee, but of thy Wealth.
Fie on't, it hurts my Thought.

Eus.
Your Pardon, Sir—
But oh! I cannot judge thus hardly of him.
Can there be Falshood in those Heart-fetch'd Sighs,
Those tender Pangs, and that Excess of Passion,
Which I, and all the Host of Heav'n have seen?
O then Sincerity has lost her Proofs,
And Love the Vouchers of his Purity.
Besides his virtuous Life—

Man.
I'll hear no more—
These Striplings cringe, and whine, and sigh by Rule,
And Woman flatter'd knows not Art from Virtue.
Why do I loiter here? Eusebia, yet
Thou art my Daughter—let not thy Perverseness
Soil all the Blessings of this glorious Day—

Eus.
Thus weeping, trembling, riveted to Earth,
O let me ask my ever-honour'd Father
When he was disobey'd?

Man.
When did I ask
To be obey'd till now? What! thou wouldst plead
The slender Service of thy former Years,
Which Ignorance and Youth, not Duty paid.
Dost thou call this Obedience to a Father?
Away, and mark me, I desire Compliance
In Instances of greater Weight, or none,

Eus.
This Resolution may undo me, Sir,
But shall not shake my Duty—I submit—
And yet I could have hop'd the hapless Youth
That sav'd your Son, and sav'd us all in him,
At length might boast Pretension to your Favour.

Man.
How! wilt thou teach me to reward my Soldiers?
But I perceive thy Stubbornness of Folly:
Thy blind Affection cleaves to Leon still:
And therefore hear a Father's fixt Resolve;
Give me a Proof before To-morrow's Noon,
Leon no more is Master of thy Heart,
Or quit my Roof, repair thee to a Convent,
And dedicate thy remnant Days to Heav'n.
So shall it sooth my Soul, when I reflect
Thou art not mine, to know, thou art not his.
Farewel, and think on this.
[Exit Manuel.

Eus.
Tell me, my Virgins,
In all the Volumes of recorded Love,
Have you e'er read a Destiny like mine?
What's to be done?—Can I conceal my Passion?
Ah! 'twill betray itself a thousand Ways.
But to renounce my Heart's best Joy for ever—
My Soul recoils with Horrour at the Thought—
Support me, Friends, and with your kindest Counsels,
Oh! save a wretched Maid from double Ruin.

[Ex.

SCENE II.

Enter Romanus.
Rom.
Eusebia, and in Tears! What may this mean?
It matters not—they drop Delight to me,
As Tokens of more Woe—Let Mischief flourish—
I was to meet dull Mervan here—I want
To fool him further to my Bent—till when
My Purpose halts, and thou art safe, Aleppo—
Enter Mervan.
But lo! he comes—Welcome, my worthy Friend;
I need thy Counsel much this fatal Hour;
My Soul is full—But why that downcast Look?
Things wear a better Face since last we parted.

Mer.
They ne'er look'd worse, Romanus.

Rom.
How! my Mervan,
Hast thou not seen the Man thou hatest most
Thrown from his Orb like Lucifer?—'Tis Joy,
Worth the young Bridegroom's Transport, thus to stand
Safe on the Shore, and view this Wreck of Greatness.

Mer.
Who falls may rise—The Sun that's now descended,
To-morrow will resume his fiery Function.

Rom.
Why this School Simile?—What mean thy Fears?

Mer.
I fear not Shadows—Terms of Amity
Will be propos'd to Theodore.

Rom.
Say'st so?
Now Heav'n or Hell forbid.

Mer.
Nay hear my Tale.
Sophronius, still self-diffident, although
His Worth mounts daily in the Scale of Glory,
With Modesty I ne'er might blame before,
Propos'd this fatal Ev'ning to his Father,
To share the chief Command with Theodore,
Provided small Acknowledgment were paid,
As is most due, to Manuel's injur'd Honour.
I am content, cries our old Governour,
And strait commissions him to make the Treaty.
Early To-morrow Morn they will confer;
If so, trust me, I doubt our Counsel leaks.
For while thou weavest thy Design, Romanus,
Fine as the Spider's Web, there's but a Breath
'Twixt that and Dissolution.

Rom.
My good Mervan,
This must not be—I have a Story too
Will shake thy honest Heart—Hah! Theodore
Directs his Steps this Way—I must dissemble;
But you, my Friend, insult his fallen Pride—
'Tis a Debt due to Spleen—You shall hear more
Anon—My Fortune may assist me now.

[Aside.
Enter Theodore.
The.
Romanus, I was seeking thee—What means
Thy loit'ring here?

Rom.
We have a trifling Bus'ness
That had been soon adjusted—but I'm ready
To hear my Lord's Commands.

Mer.
Indeed, and should;
The General cannot wait his Soldier's Leisure.

Rom.
For Shame' sake, Peace.

The.
What does the Abject prate?
Reptile, my Soul ne'er look'd so low as thee.

Mer.
Better you had—'tis said your airy Gazers
Stand on a tott'ring Base—a Fall may hurt—

The.
What does my Virtue come within the Taunt
Of musty common-place Morality,
Cull'd from an old Wife's Ev'ning Dialogue?
Peace, good Philosophy, I wage not War
With Saws, and Ends of Reas'ning—pr'ythee Peace—

Mer.
I have not learnt what Deference is due
To a disbanded Soldier.

The.
Hah! thou Slave,
There's that perhaps may teach thee better Manners.

[Strikes him.
Mer.
Seize me eternal Pungency of Pain,
But I will be reveng'd, thou brutal Smiter.

Rom.
Well struck—and well resented—for my Purpose.
[Aside.
Nay but be pacified—

[To Mervan.
The.
How the Cur foams?
Revenge! Why that's the Virtue of great Souls
That struggle with the Pangs of injur'd Honour—
It is a tender Plant, that flourishes
But in a warm well-cultivated Soil,
Not seen to thrive in cold and barren Ground.
Dost thou, thou Lump of earthly Element,
With no more Fire in thy dull Blood than serves
Mere Motion, and not Heat—dost thou presume
To vent Impatience in exalted Terms,
Out of your Sphere of Mutt'ring? Thou revenge!
Go, Fool, to Bed—Romanus, I would see thee
Within an Hour—till then farewel.
[Exit Theodore.

Rom.
O Mervan,
My ever honour'd, and much injur'd Friend,
But that the Matter asks maturer Thought,
My Poniard should have reach'd the Villain's Heart.

Mer.
Confusion, and Despair!

Rom.
Nay, no Despair;
For that defeats your Wisdom's Resolution:
We'll have Revenge—the Public shall have Justice—
The Public, Friend,—thou know'st not yet how much
Aleppo's Cause, and thine are interwoven—

Mer.
What would Romanus say?

Rom.
That which might chill
The Heart of Stoutness—oh! suppose this Night,
It could be said, Aleppo is no more!

Mer.
Thou hast a horrid Look—I pray explain it—

Rom.
Observe me then with Heed.

Mer.
Religiously.

Rom.
Soon as hot Theodore had left the Council,
I hied me to his House; and as I knew him
Apt of Conception desp'rate, tried to sound
The Fathom of his Thought—I found him, Mervan,
Churning the Froth of Fury—I suggested
(Putting the Semblance of fair Friendship on)
Topicks of Vengeance to him, nor in vain;
He was soon tractable to Works of Darkness—
I urg'd him to betray this hated City,
And shew'd apparent Means of Execution—
He prest me to his Bosom, hug'd my Zeal,
And swore it was Revenge full adequate
To his vile Wrongs—I will to Night, he cried,
Hear more of this—You heard him chide my Stay—

Mer.
I did—the Villain—Heav'n! was this the Man
Whom good Sophronius would restore to Honour?
How has thy honest Fraud detected him?
But I will hence, and startle Manuel's Ear
With this Report—It must be done to Night—

Rom.
Hold—ponder well the Issue with the Deed—
You would charge Theodore with Treason?

Mer.
Ay—

Rom.
And I am ready to support the Charge,
But say, with what? what Colour? what Pretence?
My Word will weigh no more than Theodore's,
And haply less when he disowns the Crime
With Protestations back'd by horrid Oath.
My single Voice is Slander, and not Proof—

Mer.
Nay, spur thy Wit—Aleppo must be sav'd,
And I must have Revenge.

Rom.
Why, let me see—
It is the surest Way—suppose this Night
My Dagger drinks his Blood—the Dead, thou know'st,
Are no Gainsayers.

Mer.
Right—proceed—I hear thee
With most charm'd Organs—

Rom.
To the Governour
The Rashness of the Blow shall be excus'd
By some well-fram'd, and joint Apology.
The Prejudice of Manuel, and the Place
You hold in his Opinion sets all right,
And everlasting Peace succeeds—

Mer.
Well said, my Oracle!

Rom.
Yet still one Doubt, good Mervan,
Draws back my Resolution.

Mer.
Speak it, Friend.

Rom.
What if the Villain's Groans, or Marks of Blood
Betray me to his Houshold? They may wait not
Calmly to weigh the Motives to this Deed,
But wreak a sudden Vengeance on my Life—
Now could I shew by some plain, pregnant Token,
That I therein proceeded by Commission—

Mer.
Hah! To effect that Point is mine, Romanus,
Behold Lord Manuel's Signet.

[Shewing it.
Rom.
Give me that
And I've a Passport sure.

Mer.
Take it, 'tis thine—
[Gives it him.
And now pursue thy Purpose—let me hear
Before To-morrow's Sun, Aleppo's Foe
And Mervan's Bane is levell'd with the Dust.

Rom.
You shall—good Night.

Mer.
Farewel—
[Exit Mervan.

Rom.

[Exit.