University of Virginia Library

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.