University of Virginia Library

SCENE VI.

Enter Trollio.
Crist.
Come near, my Trollio.
We've heard ill News from Denmark—that's a Trifle—
But here's to blast thy Eyes—Read—

Troll.
Ha! Gustavus!
So near us, and in Arms!

Crist.
What's to be done? Now, Trollio, now's the Time
To subtilize thy Soul, sound every Depth,
And waken all the wond'rous Statesman in thee.
For I must tell thee (spite of Pride and Royalty,
Of guarding Armies, and of circling Nations
That bend beneath my Nod) this curs'd Gustavus
Invades my shrinking Spirits, awes my Heart,
And sits upon my Slumbers—All in vain
Has he been daring, and have I been vigilant;
Spite of himself he still evades the Hunter,
And if there's Pow'r in Heav'n or Hell it guards him.
When was I vanquish'd, but when he oppos'd me?
When have I conquer'd, but when he was absent?
His Name's a Host, a Terror to my Legions.
And by my tripled Crown, I swear, Gustavus,
I'd rather meet all Europe for my Foe,
Than see thy Face in Arms!

Troll.
Be calm, my Liege;
And listen to a Secret big with Consequence,
That gives thee back the second Man on Earth
Whose Valour cou'd plant Fears around thy Throne:
Thy Pris'ner—

Crist.
What of him?

Troll.
The Prince Arvida.

Crist.
How!

Troll.
The same.

Crist.
My royal Fugitive?

Troll.
Most certain.

Crist.
Now then 'tis plain who sent him hither.

Troll.
Yes.
Pray give me Leave, my Lord—a Thought comes cross me—
If so he must be ours—
[Pauses.
Your Pardon for a Question—Has Arvida
E'er seen your beauteous Daughter, your Cristina?

Crist.
Never—yes—possibly he might, that Day
When the proud Pair, Gustavus and Arvida,
Thro' Copenhagen drew a Length of Chain,
And grac'd my Chariot Wheels—but why the Question?

Troll.
I'll tell you—while e'en now he stood before us
I mark'd his high Demeanour, and my Eye
Claim'd some Remembrance of him, tho' in Clouds
Doubtful and distant, but a nearer View
Renew'd the Characters effac'd by Absence.
Yet, lest he might presume upon a Friendship
Of ancient League between us, I dissembled,
Nor seem'd to know him—On he proudly strode,
As who should say, back Fortune, know thy Distance!
Thus steddily he pass'd, and mock'd his Fate.
When, lo! the Princess to her Morning Walk
Came forth attended—quick Amazement seiz'd
Arvida at the Sight; his Steps took Root,
A Tremor shook him; and his alt'ring Cheek
Now sudden flush'd, then fled its wonted Colour;
While with an eager and intemp'rate Look
He bent his Form, and hung upon her Beauties.

Crist.
Ha! Did our Daughter note him?

Troll.
No, my Lord;
She pass'd regardless—Strait his Pride fell from him,
And at her Name he started.
Then heav'd a Sigh, and cast a Look to Heav'n,
Of such a mute, yet eloquent Emotion,
As seem'd to say, now Fate thou hast prevail'd,
And found one Way to triumph o'er Arvida!

Crist.
But whither wou'd this lead?

Troll.
List, list, my Lord!
While thus his Soul's unseated, shook by Passion,
Cou'd we engage him to betray Gustavus—

Crist.
O empty Hope! Impossible, my Trollio,
Do I not know him, and the curs'd Gustavus?
Both fix'd in Resolution deep as Hell,
And proud as high Olympus!

Troll.
Ah, my Liege,
No mortal Footing treads so firm in Virtue,
As always to abide the slipp'ry Path,
Nor deviate with the Biass—Some have few,
But each Man has his Failing, some Defect
Wherein to slide Temptation—Leave him to me.

Crist.
I know thou hast a serpentizing Genius,
Can'st wind the subtlest Mazes of the Soul,
And trace her Wand'rings to the Source of Action.
If thou canst bend this proud one to our Purpose,
And make the Lion crouch, 'tis well—if not,
Away at once, and sweep him from Remembrance.

Troll.
Then I must promise deep.

Crist.
Ay, any thing; out-bid Ambition.

Troll.
Love?

Crist.
Ha! Yes—our Daughter too—if she can bribe him:
But then to win him to betray his Friend?

Troll.
O doubt it not, my Lord—for if he loves,
As sure he greatly does, I have a Stratagem
That holds the Certainty of Fate within it.
Love is a Passion whose Effects are various,
It ever brings some Change upon the Soul,
Some Virtue, or some Vice, 'till then unknown,
Degrades the Hero, and makes Cowards valiant.

Crist.
True, when it pours upon a youthful Temper,
Open and apt to take the Torrent in;
It owns no Limits, no Restraint it knows,
But sweeps all down tho' Heav'n and Hell oppose;
Ev'n Virtue rears in vain her sacred Mound,
Raz'd in its Rage, or in its Swellings drown'd.

[Exeunt.