University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

a Hall.
LUCIO, an OFFICER.
OFFICER.
Think on the danger.

LUCIO.
Who sees only that,
Will ne'er surmount it. More than life I owe her.
Adversity's hard hand had crush'd my hopes,
Doom'd my sweet wife, and infant family,
To shameful beggary: my affliction reach'd her:
Can I forget her all-dispensing bounty,
That rais'd my soul from comfortless despair,
That bad my cheerful house again receive me,
Bless'd us with plenty?—If I fall, and save her,
'Tis well; I ask no nobler epitaph.

OFFICER.
There's virtue in your motive, and your purpose;
But how effect her rescue?

LUCIO.
Will you join us?

OFFICER.
Or why these questions?

LUCIO.
I dare trust your honour,
The bond of soldiers. Know then, I command
(And sought it with this hope) her prison guard:
I have sounded them, they hate the cruel service.
A little, ere the fatal hour's approach,
We mean to pass their unresisting force,
Throw wide the iron gates, and bear her safe
Beyond the danger of this bloody edict.

OFFICER.
It looks success, may fortune second it!
The throngs assembled to behold the sight,
Will count for idle gazers, and conceal
Your bold design, till 'tis too late to twhart it.
How brooks she her sad plight?

LUCIO.
With fortitude
So sweet, so even-temper'd, that her death
Seems but a phantom, dress'd by Fancy's trick,
To frighten children. All her soul's employ'd
In minist'ring, with softest piety,
To her distracted father.

OFFICER.
There's a spectacle,
Indeed, heart-rending. Cast on the cold ground,
He strews his head with ashes, by the roots
Tears out his silver hair, beats his poor breast;
While the significant dumbness of his gesture,
Beggars all power of words.

LUCIO.
Thou blind mischance,
Stand neuter! we shall cheer him presently.
I'll to my station. Keep thy sword conceal'd,
Nor sheathe it drawn, but in the villain's breast,
That dare oppose us. Be but firm, and fear not.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.

BIRENO,
alone.
By their description, it was Paladore;
The place, the glittering robe, his courage too,
In so assailing them. If their keen daggers
Left her enough of breath to tell the tale,
She has, no doubt, told all, and wing'd him back,
To wreak his vengeance on me; this way only,
Can I be safe; firm as he is, and fearless,
My ambush cuts him off; and, by his death,
The full tide of my prosperous fortune flows,
Never to ebb.

SCENE III.

To BIRENO, ASCANIO.
Well, the great period comes;
No champion meets my challenge?

ASCANIO.
No, not one.
Fear puts the livery of conscience on:
They cannot think one of your nobleness,
Wou'd charge a lady falsely to the death;
And few are the examples of success
Against conviction: “true, 'tis pitiful,
“That one so fair, so young, of royal birth,
“For the meer frailty of impulsive nature,
“Should meet so sad a doom; the law's to blame,
“That bloodily enrolls a venial trespass,
“With those o'ergrown and huge enormities,
“That shake society;” but they can no more,
Than drop a tear or two, and let her die.

BIRENO.
True; she must die; and the heart-wounded king,
Whose age already totters o'er the grave,
Like a crush'd serpent, but a little longer
Will drag his painful being. Yet one fear
Sits, like a boding raven o'er my breast,
And flaps its heavy wing to damp my joy.

ASCANIO.
What fear can reach you now? From Paladore?

BIRENO.
Perdition seize him! yes. But, my good ruffians,
Ere this, I trust, have sent to his account,
That ill-star'd Briton. Doubly arm'd they wait him—
Close by a brambled cavern he must pass,
Returning hither. Yet, should he escape—
It cannot be—Heart, re-assume thy seat.
But, come, the time draws on—Bear to the lists,
My martial ensigns; I must seem prepar'd
To oppose a danger that will never meet me.
[As he is going, a servant delivers a paper.
The hand of Bernardine, my trusty spy.
[Reads.
Confusion! rescue her! Come back, Ascanio!
Fly to St. Mark's, collect the cohort there;
Go, place them instantly around the prison;
Bid them disarm the guard that holds that place,
And, on their lives, drive back the populace.
I'll to Honorias—These stout veterans
Will sweep the rabble like vile chaff before them.
Away—A moment may be fatal to us.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE IV.

a Prison.
PRINCESS, WOMEN attending.
PRINCESS.
Nay, dry these tears—The aweful eve of death
Is but profan'd by shews of common sorrow.
I have a triple armour round my heart,
'Gainst all the shapes of terror; yet it owns
The soft contagion of affection's drops,
And melts at kindness. Come, this must not be—
You, Laura! must be near me at the block,
And help to disarray me.—What, more tears?
Stop them, for shame; I must have strangers else,
For this last office. When the axe has fallen,
They have no further power—Save from disgrace,
My poor remains, and on your loves, I charge you,
When I am dead, see, that they touch me not.
I have not been unmindful of your service.
It is not much—There were too many poor,
Too many comfortless, to leave me rich:
But you will find a father in the king,
And, for my sake, he will be bounteous to you.
Retire, and weep, I dare not look upon you.
[Takes a picture from her breast.
Thou dear dumb image of a form belov'd!
Soul of my soul, and precious even in death,
A while be sensible! Receive this sigh,
And take my last farewel. When thou shalt know
My truth, and sufferings, let not the sad tale
Blast the fair promise of thy noble youth,
But, with a sweet, a sacred melancholy,
Embalm the soft remembrance of my love.
My father! Oh, angelic host support me,
To bear this parting, and death's pang is past!

SCENE V.

PRINCESS,
KING.
I am indeed subdued—To see thee thus!

KING.
They would not let me die—

PRINCESS.
These few short hours,
Alas, how have they chang'd thee! Murderous sorrow!
Thy furrows sink more deep than age or time.
Your cheek is ashy pale, your eyes quite sunk.
Will you not look upon me?

KING.
Oh, no, no;
I came to give thee comfort, to sustain thee;
But, looking on thee, I shall weep again,
And add my load of misery to thine.
Yet teach me to be patient.

PRINCESS.
View me well;
Nor think these tears fall for my own distress;
The throbbings of my heart are for my father.
'Tis apprehension makes death terrible;
Cowards, from weakness, tremble; guilt, from conscience;
But the firm bosom innocence invests;
Knows it a fix'd inevitable end,
Meets the pale guest, nor startles at the encounter.

KING.
Thou wert my all, a mote that vex'd thy eye,
A thorn that raz'd thy finger, snatch'd my thoughts
From every care but thee. And thus to lose thee!

PRINCESS.
Oh, were our being circumscrib'd by earth,
This end indeed might shake my constancy:
But, faith apart: think what bright evidence
Shines here within of immortality.
Who has not felt the heavenly overflow
Of thought congenial to the eternal mind?
Why are there tears of virtuous sympathy?
Whence that cœlestial fluid of the eye,
That sheds such full, such satisfied delight?
But that the God of all benevolence,
Thus gives a glimpse of blessedness to come,
In joys refin'd from sense, and far transcending?

KING.
What has old age to lose? Is the poor remnant
Of life worn thread-bare, precious for itself?
Can we be fond of pain, and feebleness?
No; but our second spring, our soul's renew'd
In our dear children, there we cling to life:
Mortality! thy last, thy heaviest curse.
Bids us remain the mournful monument,
The living tomb of all our comforts buried,
Telling no more in our sepulchral sorrow,
Than that they were, and are not.

PRINCESS.
You must live
(For sure the hour will come) to see this cloud
Pass from my memory; and the shame he merits,
Fall on my base accuser.

KING.
[Kneeling.]
Hear me, Heaven?
On the devoted murderer of my child,
With tenfold visitation pour my sorrow!
Let fear, mistrust, and horror ever haunt him!
Slumber forsake his couch, and joy his table!
If he must reign, Oh, line his crown with thorns!
Turn reverence to contempt, the friend he trusts,
Meet him for smiles with daggers: war abroad,
Treason at home, pursue, and harrass him!
And may the steam, that mounts from innocent blood,
Make heavier the dire thunderbolt,
Lanc'd from thy red right arm, at last to crush him!

PRINCESS.
Spirit of peace! on his distemper'd rage,
Oh, shed thy healing balm!
[A noise without.
What mean these shouts?
This wild tumultuous noise?

To them an ATTENDANT.
ATTENDANT.
Our prayers are heard:
The guard gives way, the massy bars are forc'd;
And, like delivering angels, the rous'd people,
Burst in to lead you from this den of horror.

KING.
Oh, joy unhop'd! Millions of blessings crown them!

ATTENDANT.
Led by the gallant Lucio, they advance.

KING.
The tiger then may seek his prey in vain;
My brave, my generous people! Hark! they come.

[More noise.
PRINCESS.
Ah, Sir! retire—Your heart must thank their purpose;
Yet sure 'twere most unmeet for royalty.
Whose sway, and throne, are hallow'd in obedience,
To countenance this outrage. Pray, retire.

KING.
Yes, I will go; but, Oh, be swift, my child!
Nor dally with this blessed chance to save thee.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

To her, LUCIO, his sword drawn.
PRINCESS.
[Advancing.]
Your purpose, quickly?

LUCIO.
[Kneeling.]
Your deliverance, lady!
I owe a debt of boundless gratitude,
And thus in part wou'd pay it. Madam, fly!
The people all are yours, a chosen band,
Faithful, and brave, wait to conduct you hence:
This smiling moment seiz'd, may place you safe,
Beyond the dreadful fate that threatens you.

PRINCESS.
But not beyond the reach of foul disgrace,
The noble mind's worst fate—I know thee, Lucio!
And thank thy kind intention. Cou'd my flight
Restore my name to its original whiteness,
Make palpable his lie who slanders me,
I'd think thee thus commission'd from above,
And welcome life with transport.

LUCIO.
Do I wake!
When your good angel thus by me invites you,
Is this a time to doubt? Can you devote
That rosy youth, that all commanding beauty,
To voluntary death?

PRINCESS.
Were it a pain,
Worse than the fear of cowards can conceive,
I wou'd abide it. Have I not endur'd
A greater horror, heard myself proclaim'd,
The thing I scorn to utter? Shall I live,
To bear about a disputable fame,
Scattering the eternal seeds of strife and war,
Over my country, for the privilege
To draw a little transitory breath,
And be consign'd to infamy, or honour,
But as the sword of conquest arbitrates?

LUCIO.
These are suggestions of your generous anger,
And not your reason—Oh, most honour'd lady!
Again behold me prostrate at your feet:
Thus, thus, by me the people supplicate.
[Kneels.
We have but one short moment left to save you;
Seize it, and live, live to be still rever'd
Your country's pride, her boast, her ornament.

PRINCESS.
I am not to be chang'd. But, Oh, my father!
The good old king, he wants a friend like thee.

ASCANIO.
[Without.]
Force down the bridge. Kill all who dare oppose.
They fly; stand fast—

PRINCESS.
He cuts my purpose short.

SCENE VII.

ASCANIO, with Soldiers to them.
LUCIO.
Oh, death to all our hopes! 'tis now too late.
I cast thee from my hand, vile instrument!
Since she disdains thy service.

[Throws down his sword.
ASCANIO.
Seize that traitor—
Quick, bear him hence—Madam, I grieve to speak it,
The herald, to the temple porch, has issued
For final proclamation.

PRINCESS.
Spare your sorrow—
A shameful world, disgrac'd by souls like, thine,
Turns grief to joy, when noble natures leave it.
[Exit Princess guarded.

SCENE VIII.

To ASCANIO, BIRENO.
BIRENO.
Oh, let me clasp thee! This was worthy service.
But for thy zeal, the high-rais'd edifice
So near complete, had tumbled to the earth,
And crush'd me in its fall.

ASCANIO.
Haste to the lists;
A moment more consummates our design,
And Fate itself may strive in vain to shake us.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX.

The Lists in the middle of the stage. A scaffold, guard, and executioner at the bottom. Many spectators, officers, and senators, preceding the Princess, supported by women. Bireno with Ascanio, who bears his shield and sword. Heralds, with trumpets, on the sides.
OFFICER.
Make room. Fall back. Let the procession pass.

BIRENO.
'Tis known why I stand here; yet once again,
And for the last time, herald, sound my challenge.
Proceed, none answer.

[Bireno's Trumpet sounds.
PRINCESS.
I wou'd have it so.
You generous people, who behold with horror
These gloomy preparations, do not deem me
Cold, and unthankful, for my offer'd safety,
Tho' I prefer'd this dire alternative.
Before the tongue of slander struck my fame,
The rude hand of affliction never touch'd me;
Life had a thousand bonds to tie me to it,
Young spirits, royal birth, fortune, and greatness:
But honour was the prop, round which, like stalks
Tender and weak, these accessaries twin'd.
When Calumny's sharp edge cut down that trunk,
Then these poor tendrils lost their hue, and wither'd.
With that great ruin fell my happiness.
I now stand on eternity's dark verge,
Nor dare I to the God, and Judge of Truth,
Bring lips with falsehood sullied. Of the offence
Cast on me by vile malice, I am free,
Even to abhorrence; this to Heaven is known,
My own heart, and my accuser: therefore boldly,
And for your sakes, will I arraign the law,
Which thus has pass'd upon me.

FIRST SENATOR.
Gracious lady!
If in this censure we too stand accus'd,
Think we pronounc'd, but did not make the law.
And let my bleeding heart bear witness for me,
I wou'd lay down the dearest thing I own,
To save you from the forfeit.

PRINCESS.
Good, my Lord!
All forms of justice have been well observ'd;
My blame lights on the law, not on your office,
Which you with truth and mercy minister.
But let these mute spectators mark my counsel:
Fall at the king's feet, clasp the senate's knees,
And pray them, they wipe out clear from their rolls,
This more than cruel edict; else, be sure
From every roof there hangs a dangerous sword,
(Hangs by a thread) which each dark hand may drop
To pierce and sever nature's dearest ties.
She who profanes her honor's sanctity,
Upbraided by her heart, by her own sex
Shun'd or neglected, nay, held cheap, and vile,
Even to the loathing of the lover's sense,
Who wrought her easy nature to transgress;
These are sharp penalties: but added death
Turns the clear stream of justice into blood,
And makes such law more curs'd than anarchy.
Forget not my example; let me perish:
But if you pluck your safety from my ruin,
I shall not die in vain. Farewel—Lead on—

[Princess goes toward the Scaffold, a Trumpet sounds.
FIRST SENATOR.
Hold, on your lives.

BIRENO.
What means that trumpet's voice?
It sounds a shrill alarm.

SCENE X.

To them a SQUIRE.
SQUIRE.
Arrest your sentence.
I come in the name of one, who hears with horror
This barbarous process, to proclaim the accuser
Of that most innocent and royal lady,
A slanderer and villain; who accepts
Her just defence, and by the law of arms
Throws down this gage, and claims the combat for her.

BIRENO.
Take it, Ascanio. Bid your knight appear,
(If such his order) for to none beneath
Am I thus bound to answer. Speak his titles.

SQUIRE.
He wills not I reveal him; but suffice it,
He has a name in arms that will not shame
The noble cause he fights for.

BIRENO.
Bid him enter.
My shield and sword. Say, I am deck'd to meet him.
[Exit Squire.
Some rash adventurer, prodigal of life,
Brib'd by her father's gold to grace her fall,
And add an easy trophy to my banners.—
Confusion! Paladore!

SCENE XI.

To them PALADORE.
PRINCESS.
'Tis he, 'tis he!—
Then, life, thou art welcome.—

[A loud Murmur among the People.
BIRENO.
Marshal, do your office!
Furies and hell!—Keep order in the lists!—
Silence that uproar—

PALADORE.
Yes, behold me, villain!
I have thee in the toils; thou can'st not scape me.—
But Oh! most wrong'd, and heavenly excellence!
[To the Princess.
How shall I plead for pardon?—Can the abuse
Of his deep craft, and devilish artifice,
Fooling my nature's plainness, blanch my cheek
From the deep shame that my too easy faith
Combin'd with hell against thee?

PRINCESS.
Rise, my soldier!
Though yet I know not by what subtle practice
Thy nobleness was wrought on, nor the means
That since reveal'd his fraud, praise be to Heaven!
Thy presence plucks my honour from the grave;
Thou liv'st, thou know'st my truth, thou wilt avenge me.

PALADORE.
Avenge thee!—Yes—Did his right-hand grasp thunder,
Did yelling furies combat on his side,
(Pal'd in with circling fires) I wou'd assail him,
Nor cast a look to Fortune for the event.

BIRENO.
Presumptuous Briton! Think not that bold mien,
A wanton's favour, or thy threats, have power
To shrink the sinews of a soldier's arm.

PALADORE.
A soldier's arm! Thou double murderer!
Assassin in thy intention, and in act.
But ere my falchion cleave thy treacherous breast
I will divulge thee.—Bring that ruffian forth.—
[One of Alinda's murderers is brought out.
Two hell-hounds, such as this, he set upon me;
One fell beneath my sword; that wretch I spar'd,
Kneeling for mercy: let your justice doom him.
Look you amaz'd! Peruse that paper, Lords,
His compact for the blood of a fair minion,
He taught to sin, and made her wages death.—
Ha! Does it shake thee? See Alinda's form,
Thy panting image mangled in her side,
Stalks from her sanguine bed, and ghastly smiles,
To aid the prowess of this dauntless soldier.

BIRENO.
[Aside.]
Destruction! All's reveal'd!—

ASCANIO
to BIRENO.
What, turn'd to stone!
Droop not, for shame.—Be quick, retort the charge.

BIRENO.
All false as hell! And thou—Defend thyself;
Nor blast me thus with thy detested presence.—
This to thy heart.

[Fight. Bireno falls.
PALADORE.
Oh, impotence of guilt!
An infant's lath had fell'd him. Villain, die!
And know thy shame, and the deep wound that wriths thee,
Are but a feeble earnest of the pangs
Reserv'd beneath for giant crimes like thine.

PRINCESS.
Haste to the King, proclaim this bless'd event!

BIRENO.
Perfidious chance! Caught in my own device!—
Accursed!—Ha! they drag me, tear me!—Oh!—

[Dies.
PRINCESS.
I have a thousand things to ask, to hear:
But, Oh! the joy to see thee thus again,
To owe my life, my honour, to thy love—
These tears, these rapturous tears, let them speak for me.

PALADORE.
I cou'd endure the malice of my fate:
But this full tide of such excessive bliss,
Sure 'tis illusion all! It quite transports me.
When I have borne thee from this scene of horror,
Perhaps I may grow calm, and talk with reason.

SCENE XII.

and last.
To them, KING, LUCIO, &c.
KING.
Where is she? Let me strain her to my heart.—
They cannot part us now, my joy! my comfort!—
Thou generous youth! How can my o'erflowing soul
Find words to thank thee?—Words! Poor recompense!
Here I invest thee with the forfeit lands,
The wealth and honours of that prostrate traitor.
This too is little—then receive her hand,
Due to thy love, thy courage, and thy virtue,
And joys unutterable crown your union.