Eudora A Tragedy |
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SCENE I.
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 | Eudora |  |
SCENE I.
MAJONE, SICARDI.MAJONE.
Thanks, thou excelling minister of vengeance!
How was the happy fraud at first received?
How did they credit him, who dared accuse
Their new raised idol, Raymond?
SICARDI.
O my Lord,
Our sanctified Uberto has the power
To work still greater wonders—as I live,
I think he holds the popular opinion
But as his puppet; for unseen he guides it,
And to his purpose gives it voice and action.
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He is a creature of most deep devices,
And exquisite hypocrisy: but wanting
Thy heart, Sicardi, he excites my doubts:
I wish we could have spared his services,
Important as they are.
SICARDI.
Impossible,
My noble Lord—consider but his office!
He as the Prince's confessor must watch
His closing life, and—
MAJONE.
I know it—this associate
Was needful to us—he is firmly ours;
And yet my heart forebodes some evil from him.
SICARDI.
Dismiss your fears, since all his hopes of fortune
Must rise and fall with your prosperity!
Remember too, how far we stand indebted
To his rare chymic skill! his hand prepared
The drug of subtlest potency, that ended
Your enemy's existence.
MAJONE.
You beheld
Its forceful agency!
SICARDI.
My lord, I did;
And finding its effect most rapid, flew
To bring you the great tidings, while Uberto
Exerts his priestly arts to make the people
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MAJONE.
'Tis well Sicardi; but we must not trust
That shifting sand, the popular opinion;
While yet our story holds in wild amaze
The gaping vulgar, we must try, my friend,
To make suspicion wear the face of proof.
I and Verino have this morn exchanged
Mutual professions of sincerest friendship.
SICARDI.
Will not Verino, or his wary son
Suspect a rival's friendship?
MAJONE.
'Tis the curse
Of fools to hold suspicion a dishonor.
I will persuade him, that some unknown foe
Misguides the afflicted King, who threatens Raymond
With all, that vengeance can inflict upon him.
Verino's pride will kindle at the thought,
And madly drive him to some desperate deed,
Which, having sunk then in the King's esteem,
O'erwhelms at once the father and the son.
SICARDI.
Your soul, my Lord, was surely form'd for empire,
And smiling fortune leads you to that grandeur,
Which nature seemed to claim for you, in framing
Your princely faculties.
MAJONE.
At length, my friend
My happier genius has begun to triumph—
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When abject passion, when a foolish girl,
Engross'd my every thought, and held my mind
Enslaved, enervated. Thanks to her folly!
Eudora soon dipell'd the weak illusion.
My soul awaking from that idle dream,
Rose, with new vigor, to the warm pursuit
Of sovereign greatness.
SICARDI.
The Sicilian sceptre,
Now sinking from the palsied hand of age,
Shall soon be given to thy superior guidance.
MAJONE.
Yes my Sicardi, by the prince's fall,
The paths of empire open to my view,
Clear of obstruction—but the sweets of vengeance,
Vengeance alone demands our present care:
Thou shalt repent thee of thy simple choice,
Ill-judging girl! O how my heart will swell
With the proud triumph of revenge—to see thee
Weep o'er the fallen minion of thy wishes,
And curse thy abject fate! but hence, Sicardi,
I must with keen attendance watch the King,
Work to a storm his undecided passions
And teach the bursting tempest where to fall!
(Exit Sicardi.
Now fair deceit
Inspire my tongue, and let my clamorous sorrow
Assume the semblance of a generous zeal!
| Eudora | |