University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE, the Bower.
Enter ROSAMOND and ETHELINDA.
ROSAMOND.
Is it the vain Suggestion of my Fears,
Or do unwonted Sounds, and buzzing Murmurs,
Ride in each Breeze?

ETHELINDA.
'Tis Fancy's Coinage all;
Your Mind, alarm'd lest any thwart Event
Should interrupt this Night's important Business,
Creates false Terrors.

ROSAMOND.
Twice within this Hour
Hath it presented to my tortur'd Sight
My Father in the Agonies of Death,
Gasping and pale, and stretching forth his Hands
To me for Aid and Pity.

ETHELINDA.
When Suspense
And Expectation hold Dominion o'er
The agitated Bosom, these Illusions
Are busy to torment us.

ROSAMOND.
Angels speed him
In Safety to me! and console my Henry,
When he shall seek his Rosamond in vain
Around this once-lov'd Bower! When thou behold'st him,
(O! can it be a Crime to leave a Sigh,
One soft Adieu for him, who was so dear?)
Say, Ethelinda, that I left these Walls
Not with a harden'd, but a tutor'd Mind,
Not desp'rate, but resolv'd; arm'd with that due,
That holy Resolution, which becomes
My State and Purpose; and when busy Memory
Recalls the sad Idea of our Loves,
(Too oft alas! I fear 'twill press my Mind!)
I'll pour my fervent Pray'rs, that Bliss and Honour
May crown the Hero's Days!

ETHELINDA.
I will do all
My Mistress bids; but must I stay behind?
Must I renounce the sweet Companionship,
Her Gentleness and soft Humanity
Have taught me to esteem my highest Bliss?

ROSAMOND.
This once, obey—this Night's great Business done,
I claim no Duty more; but when the Storm
Shall be o'er-blown, and all be calm again,
If aught of Good befall my after-Hours,
Thou, Ethelinda, shall partake it with me.
Go now, collect together those dear Pledges,
The only Treasure I shall carry hence,
My Henry's Letters; my o'er-harrass'd Spirits
Would sink beneath the Task.
[Exit Ethel.
Ill-boading Fears
Possess me still; such as I oft have heard
Haunt the sick Couch, Death's fable Harbingers.

Enter QUEEN with a Bowl and Dagger.
QUEEN.
Ay, there the Trait'ress sits. Who could surmize
Guilt kept abode in such an Angel-Form?
Approach, thou beauteous Fiend! Well mayst thou start,
'Tis Eleanor that calls; she comes to wake thee
From the vain Dream, which thou hast long enjoy'd,
To Justice and Atonement.

ROSAMOND.
Shield me, Powers,
From that wrong'd Form! My Fears are all explain'd!

QUEEN.
No Pow'r can shield thee now—Thy Pray'rs are fruitless;
Now cry in vain to him who hath undone thee,
Who robb'd thee of thy Innocence of Heart,
And taught thee to be Rival to a Queen.

ROSAMOND.
Most injur'd Majesty, thus to the Earth
I bow myself before thee. I confess
My heinous Crimes; I sink beneath their Weight:
Yet Oh! take Pity on a hapless Creature
Misled by fatal Love, immers'd in Guilt,
And blinded to the Evils that ensued!

QUEEN.
And plead'st thou that in thy Defence, fond Wretch,
Which loudest cries against thee? Knew'st thou not
Who Henry was, what were his noble Ties?
How did thy Passion dare aspire so high?
Thou should'st have sought within thine own Degree
Mates for thy wanton Hours; then hadst thou not
Debas'd a Monarch in his People's Eyes,
Nor wak'd the Vengeance of an injur'd Queen.

ROSAMOND.
Alas, thou look'st on me as on a Wretch
Familiar with Pollution, reconcil'd
To harden'd Guilt, and all its shameless Arts;
I am not such. Night's holy Lamps can witness
What painful Sighs my sad afflicted Heart
Hath heav'd, what streaming Tears my Eyes have pour'd,
To be releas'd from the pernicious Snare
Wherein I was involv'd!

QUEEN.
Those Sighs and Tears,
Had true Contrition been their holy Source,
Should have inspir'd thy Heart to break the Snare,
And set itself at Freedom.

ROSAMOND.
O! 'tis true
They should; but in my rebel Breast they found
Too strong Resistance. Love hath been my Fault,
My Bane, my Ruin; long he held entranc'd
My fascinated Sense—
O let this very Weakness plead my Cause
Within your royal Breast; revolve, great Queen,
How you have lov'd, and let those tender Feelings
Win you to pity me!

QUEEN,
Aside.
What Witchery
Of Language hangs upon this Circe's Tongue?
Why droops my Resolution? rouse thee, Eleanor,
Remember the great Cause that brought thee hither,
Nor let a Harlot's Sigh, or treach'rous Tear,
Relax thy Fortitude.

ROSAMOND.
What shall I do
To humble me yet lower in thy Sight?
What Form of Language shall my Lips adopt
To move thy Mercy? I confess my Crimes,
Confess their Heinousness, and sue for Pardon:
Can I do more? Ev'n Heav'n is won by Tears,
By contrite Heart, and fervent Supplication;
Shalt thou be harder to appease—O hear!
A Woman's Weakness claims a Woman's Pity.
Exert that Dignity of Soul that rises
Above Resentment to a pleaded Wrong,
And teach me how to make Atonement.

QUEEN.
Hence!
[Aside.
Encroaching Weakness! coward Heart, abjure it—
Think on thy mighty Wrongs—Arm thee to meet
My Words with noble Firmness! Death alone,
Appeases Eleanor's insulted Love.

ROSAMOND.
Death, saidst thou?—Death!—O yet—

QUEEN.
Behold, Deluder!
I will not stain me in thy Blood; this Cup
Contains thy Doom.

ROSAMOND.
Oh! do not bid me die,
Steep'd as I am in Guilt; clos'd in a Convent,
Where Heav'n's clear Air and animating Light
Ne'er fond an Entrance, let me be condemn'd
To all the Hardships ever yet devis'd;
Or banish me to roam far-distant Realms,
Unfriendly Climates, and unsocial Wastes,
So thou afford me some remaining Hours
To reconcile my Soul to that great Summons,
When Heav'n shall to deign to call.

QUEEN.
Prophane no more
The Name of Heav'n with thy polluted Breath,
Thou who hast spurn'd its Laws! Justice demands
Thy forfeit Life. Thou shalt no more mislead
A Monarch's noble Mind, no more devise
Insiduous Arts, to work a Queen's Disgrace:
Thou shalt not live to rob her of her Rights,
Her Lord's Affection, and imperial Pride,
That thou mayst seize the abdicated Seat,
And Triumph in her Fall.

ROSAMOND.
By Heav'n's pure Grace,
My Mind ne'er harbour'd such an impious Thought!

QUEEN.
Heap not fresh Crimes, thou hast enough already.

ROSAMOND.
Have I no Evidence on this side Heaven?
And must I fall alone, unjustified?
Where is the holy Abbot? Where my Henry?

QUEEN.
Thy Henry! thine!—That Word hath fir'd anew
My failing Spirit. Drink!

ROSAMOND.
Yet, yet, relent—

QUEEN.
Drink! or this Poniard searches ev'ry Vein—

ROSAMOND.
Is there no Pity? None?—This awful Silence
Hath answer'd me, and I entreat no more.
Some greater Pow'r than thine demands my Life;
Fate summons me; I hear, and I obey—
O, Heav'n! if Crimes like mine may hope Forgiveness,
Accept a contrite Heart!

[Drinks.
QUEEN,
O, beauteous Witch!
Hadst thou been less alluring, or had I
Forgot to Love, thou hadst not met this Fate.

[Aside.
ROSAMOND.
Thou art obey'd—Once more I bend before thee—
Nay harden not thy Heart to the last Accents
Of a poor Wretch, that hurries to her Grave.
Look, look upon me; I behold thee not
With unforgiving and resentful Eyes;
I deem thee but the destin'd Instrument
Of righteous Heav'n, to punish my Misdeeds.

QUEEN.
A Flood of Agony o'erwhelms my Soul,
And all my Pride and Rage is wash'd away

[Aside.
ROSAMOND.
Now cast an Eye of Pity on my Tears,
Now, in these awful, these tremendous Moments,
Thou canst not doubt my Truth. By my warm Hopes
Of Mercy at that Throne where all must bow,
My only Crime was Love. No Pow'r on Earth
Could have impell'd me to a further Wrong
Against thy State or Peace.

QUEEN.
I must believe thee—
What then remains for me? O rise, and wreak
Thy Vengeance on my now-relenting Rage.
Behold these Tears—My Wrongs are all forgot—
Excess of Passion, Love, that knew no Bounds,
Drove me, with execrable Haste, to act—
What now I would resign all earthly Bliss
To have undone again.

KING,
within.
Seize all that haunt
These winding Avenues—let none escape.

ROSAMOND.
Ah me! that Voice!

QUEEN.
'Tis Henry's—let him come,
And take his Share of Mis'ry.

Enter the KING, ETHELINDA, and Attendants.
KING.
Where, where is she?—
O fell, vindictive Fiend, what horrid Act
Hath thy dark Rage been dealing?

QUEEN.
Mad Revenge!

ETHELINDA.
Lo! the dread Means! all this my Mind foretold,
When the Queen's Train first met my startled Eye.

ROSAMOND.
Ev'n now my flitting Spirit is on the Wing;
The deadly Draught runs thro' my scorching Blood,
I feel it at my Heart—O! Henry—Henry!—

KING.
Malicious Rage, thou rid'st the Lightning's Flash
To execute thy Vengeance! Ethelinda,
Thy Zeal was cool, thy Expedition slow,
Compar'd to that fell Tyrant's rapid Heat.
Lift up thine Eyes—O! do not leave me yet—
Why melts Compassion in thy languid Look?
The Flames of Fury should be kindled there,
'Gainst him, who left thee to invading Fate,
Who saw not thy Distress, heard not thy Cries,
When black Revenge was pouring Torments on thee!—
O cruel Woman, unrelenting Fiend!—

ROSAMOND.
Calm, calm thy Mind; vent not thy Fury there,
Her Wrongs cried loud, and her great Heart is wrapt
In Sorrow for the Deed.

KING.
What now avails it?
Compunction should have sprang when she beheld
The streaming Tears course one another down
Thy beauteous Cheek, and read the speechless Grief
Of thy imploring Eyes.—O! was it thus
I thought to see my Rosamond again!—
Hath Fury, like an Eastern-Blast, destroy'd
The sweetest, loveliest Flow'r that ever bloom'd?
But I will die beside thee; never more
Revisit chearful Day, nor dream of Comfort,
When thou art parted from me.

ROSAMOND.
Cease, O! cease
These useless Plainings; consecrate to Peace
The few remaining Moments—nor let Rage
Impel thy Soul to meditate Revenge
For a poor Wretch, who justly thus atones
Her numerous Crimes. O, royal Eleanor!
Hear these last Accents—Howsoe'er I lov'd,
However guilty I have seem'd to you,
This very Night I had resolv'd to leave
These fatal Walls, and, by my Father's Guidance,
Devote my future Days to Penitence.

KING.
Doth not thy Blood, like mine, halt in thy Veins,
And chill the Seat of Life?

ROSAMOND.
Extend thy Pity,
(I cannot wrong thee further) grant me now
One Moment to indulge the tender Feelings
Of hapless Love, and breathe a fond Adieu,
Ere this poor harrass'd Spirit quit my Breast.

KING.
Why this Compassion to the wretched Cause
Of all thy Miseries! I am the Source
Of ev'ry Pang, that feeds on thy lov'd Heart—
Of this thy fatal End.—Reproach, revile me—
Do any thing but look thus kindly on me,
And I will struggle with my mighty Woes,
Taught by thy great Example.

ROSAMOND.
O, my Henry!
Let not the sad Remembrance of my Fate
Sit on thy Heart, nor call my present State
A Misery; I wish'd some sure Retreat
From Grief and Shame, and Heav'n hath heard my Prayer.

QUEEN.
Unhappy Victim of my blinded Fury,
I almost envy thee thy present State;
Thou soon wilt be at Ease; while I must live
To all the Torments which a guilty Mind
Inflicts upon itself.

KING.
Canst thou feel thus,
Yet couldst remain obdurate to her Tears,
And deaf to her Intreaties?

QUEEN.
A Deed like this
Was foreign to my Heart, had not the Fraud
Been pour'd into my Ears, that I was meant
To be divorc'd for ever from thine Arms,
Be made an Outcast from thy Bed and Throne,
That she might rise my Substitute in all.

KING.
What black-soul'd Dæmon could possess thy Mind
With such a hellish Falshood?

QUEEN.
He—that Fiend!

CLIFFORD brought on in his Disguise.
KING.
Wretch, take thy Death.

ROSAMOND.
Forbear!

[Faints.
CLIFFORD.
Strike, Henry, strike!
Why start'st thou back? I shrink not from the Blow;
New Woes assail me at that sinking Object,
And all thy Sword can do is Mercy now.

KING.
Thou, Night, in tenfold Darkness close me round,
From that much-injur'd Form!

CLIFFORD.
My Child, my Child,
Awake, and let me once more hear thy Voice.
Speak, speak, my Rosamond; tell my sad Heart
What further Woe awaits it. Hath Affliction
Robb'd me of Sense, or do I see the Pangs
Of ruthless Death within thy struggling Eye?

ROSAMOND.
Thou dost, my Father; let me bless thy Goodness,
Ere Speech forsake me; thou art come to execute
Thy pious Promise—Fate prevents thy Care,
And I submit. My penitential Tears,
My Hopes of heav'nly Mercy, and thy Pardon,
Alleviate Death's sharp Terrors.

CLIFFORD.
O! what Hand
Hath robb'd me of the latest Ray of Hope,
That trembling glitter'd on my Eve of Life?

QUEEN.
In me behold the Murderer of thy Peace!
Vent thy Reproaches, load me with thy Curses,
I'll bear them all; high as I am in Rank,
And proud in Heart, I bend to make Atonement.
My Rage unsex'd me; and the dire Remembrance
Will ever haunt my Mind.

KING.
It will have Vent.
Lo, injur'd Clifford, Henry kneels before thee!
Henry, who spurn'd the holy Ties of Friendship,
The kindly Brotherhood of human Nature,
And robb'd thee of thy Child; yet let me mingle
My penitential with thy pious Tears
O'er this lov'd Form, for whom my Heart weeps Blood.

ROSAMOND.
Peace, Peace, a Moment! let my parting Spirit
Glide gently hence; Death hurries on apace.
O! welcome! hide me in thy peaceful Breast
From the dread Horrors that surround me here.—
Confusion, Shame, oppress my languid Thoughts
In this dread Moment.—Ye, much-injur'd, pour
Compassion on me now! Thou, royal Eleanor—
Thou best of Fathers—O forgive!—And thou,
Beloved Henry!—Oh!—

[Dies.
KING.
Art thou then gone?—
And did thy dying Looks and Words speak Pardon
To thy Destroyer? In that parting Sigh,
The meekest, kindest Spirit took its Flight
That ever held Abode in human Breast.
O, sorrowing Clifford! how shall I atone
Thy bleeding Injuries?

CLIFFORD.
It needs not, Henry;
My Child lies dead before me—'Tis enough—
One Grave will hold us both—My failing Heart
Had but few Drops of Life's warm Stream remaining,
Grief soon will drink them all—

KING.
What now can Fate do more?
Rain, Eyes, rain everlasting Floods of Tears
O'er this sad Monument of lawless Love.

QUEEN.
If thy torn Heart can spare from its own Anguish
A Moment's Respite, hear! Thou know'st me, Henry;
Was Cruelty an Inmate of this Breast,
When thou wert kind and constant? Think what Pangs
I must have felt, ere wrought to this black Deed;
Let that Reflection win one pitying Tear
For all my Suff'rings, and I ask no more.

KING.
It shall be so; and we will reign together
In solemn, sad, uncomfortable Woe.

QUEEN.
No, Henry, no; the Hand that's foul with Murder,
(Bear Witness, Heav'n!) shall ne'er be clos'd in thine.
To the sad Cloister and repentant Prayer
I give my future Life. Hail, gloomy Shades!
Ye best befit the execrable Wretch,
Who, daring to assume the Bolts of Vengeance,
Dealt Desolation with unbounded Fury,
And shew'd the Faults she meant to punish slight,
Compar'd to her, and her atrocious Crimes.
[Exit Queen.

KING.