University of Virginia Library

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.