University of Virginia Library

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.