 | The Governour of Cyprus |  |
9
ACT II.
Scene a Grotto in the Garden.Virotto. IOpano
[a Slave at a distance.
IOp.
Propitious Breezes, and a smiling Sea,
At last, my Friend, have brought us safe to Cyprus:
Oh when my eyes beheld the distant Shore,
How my Heart leapt, and all within was Joy.
Virotto.
In transports IOpano!
IOp.
Coud'st thou but frame some Image to thy self
Of the high Rapture I expect to night,
Didst thou but know my Issamenea's Worth,
Our mutual Faith and unexampl'd Love;
Thy Soul wou'd be enlarg'd like mine, and Thou,
In what rejoices me so much, rejoice;
Oh! She is all that tender Mothers pray
For their First-born when ripen'd into man.
By Heav'n! He sighs, he scarce contains his Tears;
With melancholly Looks receives my Joy,
As if he wisht not IOpano well.
Vir.
By all my future hopes, thy peace of Mind
Is dearer to Virotto than his own.
IOp.
Woud'st Thou, my Friend, my Brother, think it kind
If thou shoud'st see me on thy Bridal Night
VVith Looks dejected? Wou'd it please thee well
To hear me bless the genial Bed with Sighs?
This night my Issamenea is a Bride,
Her Bridegroom I, whom oft she in her dreams
Has gently Claspt, and chid me for my Stay:
I fly, thou Blushing Beauty, to thy arms.
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Vir.
Oh IOpano!
IOp.
Why again that Sigh?
Why dost thou tremble at my Name?
Vir.
I then
Was thinking of the Frailty of our Blisses;
Are they not transitory all and false?
IOp.
They are where Heav'n has not pronounc'd 'em good;
Mine are the Fruit of our connubial Vows,
Sincere and lasting as the Bonds which make
Our Souls, our Bodies, and our Intrests one.
Vir.
But not our Passions; we have heard at least
Of faithless Husbands and inconstant Wives.
Too well I know thy merit, to believe
That 'tis in thee to change.
IOp.
And I too well
My Issamenea's Vertue, to suspect
That ev'n in thought she cou'd abuse my love
Already she has past the fiery Tryal;
When from the Indies we were bound for Spain;
The Turk who took us on the Coast, from whom
(Or still we had been Slaves) thy valour free'd us
In vain, to win her from her Duty, strove.
She scorn'd his Threats, his Promises despis'd;
Chains, Poverty and Death, she chose with me,
Ere all the Pleasures of the East with him.
Oh she is form'd of fine Etherial Mould,
Pure from the Makers hand, and free from Dross.
Vir.
What pity thou shoud'st e'er be undeceiv'd,
Why must I wake thee from this pleasing Dream?
IOp.
What means Virotto?
Vir.
Oh too much, my Brother,
I must, ev'n I, who wou'd, to serve thee, rush
On pointed Swords, and plunge into the Deep;
I, who to make thee happy, wou'd resign
What to my Heart is dearest, I must tell
A Tale which will for ever make thee miserable.
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For 'twill soon break, and thou be lost for ever.
IOp.
Speak quickly, for thy eyes are full of Fate:
Why hast thou brought me to this lonely Walk,
Desert and Wild, the Inmost of the Grove?
Why shun'd the Paths which lead us to the Pallace
Where with impatience we are both expected
Vir.
My Boat, before our Ship had reach'd the Port,
I Order'd privately to land us here,
That unobserv'd I might discharge my Breast,
Unfold a Secret which must save thy Life,
And put a dreadful Vengeance in thy pow'r
E're our Arrival at the Court is known.
For Oh! my IOpano! Thou art wrong'd
IOp.
Wrong'd, ha! by whom, when, where, and how Say on?
And torture not my quick Imagination
Lest Jealousie, the Fury thou hast rais'd,
Should lay the Crime where sure it cannot be.
Vir.
With Patience hear me, or I yet am silent,
Your fruitless Rage will disappoint my hopes,
Bring ruin on thy self and arm thy Foes.
IOp.
Didst thou not tell me I was wrong'd, Virotto?
Oh how it stings, I cannot bear my Fears.
Revenge, Revenge.—
Vir.
We will be both reveng'd.
But Patience, or you frustrate all my Councels,
Which aim at Vengeance signal as thy Wrongs:
Like thy brave self, the worst of Fortune bear.
IOp.
Yet still I am a Man.—
Vir.
And be so still.
This by the Ship that met us in our Voyage
Was brought me, which I durst not shew thee then,
Least in the violence of thy despair,
Thou hadst attempted on thy life: Enough
Of day remains to light thy wretched Eyes.
To read in this how ill thou hast been us'd.
12
[Reads)
My Wife dying presently after you left us, the Passion
I felt for Issamenea, has forc'd me to marry her.
Hell and Confusion.
I therefore desire you to dispose of her Husband,
which you may easily do at Sea, in your return; this
Service will oblige me to be eternally yours, and make
you as welcome to me as you will be to your Mistress.
Your real Friend,
Phorsano.
Ha! I shall grow a Traitor to my self
And tamely yield her to the Monsters arms.
Let me be basely hooted thro' the World,
The Scorn of Fools, and every Villains jest,
If I refuse not either Food or Sleep,
Till I have brought 'em from their height of Pleasure,
Low as the Earth, and dasht 'em thus to pieces.
Vir.
Hold! you forget; this Fury will destroy thee;
Allarm the Tyrant, and secure his Conquest:
Didst thou not promise me thou woud'st be patient?
IOp.
Say to the Ocean, when it boils, be Calm;
Bid the four Winds that with his Billows War,
Be husht, and when they hear thee, I'll obey:
Oh for unheard of Tortures, Plagues and Racks
To tear their wanton Limbs, and wound their Souls,
That living they may feel the Paines of Hell,
And I be made Immortal by revenge.
Vir.
Remember to be just, as thou'rt severe;
Let not the guiltless with the guilty bleed,
Phorsano by thy death might hope to gain
What else he never cou'd pretend to win;
This mischief, tho' conceiv'd, perhaps is yet
Unborn, and Issamenea innocent.
IOp.
Say, is it possible she may be true?
Say it again, 'tis musick to my Ear;
And every thought that tends to this, is Heav'n.
But if I find her false, by all the pow'rs
13
And they shall swim in Blood as well as Joy.
Vir.
Allay this heat, or we shall Act in vain.
A Slave attends me with a Moors Disguise,
In this I'll introduce thee to the Governour,
As one who slew his Rival, and expects,
Rewards from him which I before engag'd.
Thus undiscover'd you'l with safety know
Who most has injur'd you, and who must Dye.
IOp.
Be quick, for every Minute of delay
Kills me with Apprehension of my shame:
Lead me, Virroto, to this Lustful Tyrant,
Proud of his Sin, and in his Guards secure:
Shew me this Hero, who too soon shall prove
No Foe's so terrible as injur'd Love.
[Exit.
Scene An Antichamber, Phorsano met by Issamenea.
Phors.
Is this the Haughty Beauty, this the Goddess?
Whose Eyes she lately thought might awe the World,
So Jealous of her Empire grown, she fears
The least Invader whom of late she scorn'd.
How poor a Passion this, which makes us seem
Less to our selves, than those whom we despise;
Hence with these vain suspicions; you're the same,
Still Fair and Lovely, as I first beheld you:
Be Conscious, of your Charms, nor dread a Rival;
For that which made, will keep me still your Slave.
Issa.
How mean thou look'st, to flatter what thou hat'st!
In this more despicable than thy Falshood,
But why should I complain of this to thee,
Since Treason is the Glory of thy Life
What Women thou hast wrong'd, what Maids undone!
Where now are all thy Vows of constant Love,
Where now my IOpano? who would ne'er
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Of my Souls Quiet, and I fear it's Joy;
You watch'd my Vertue when my Guard was gone,
And falsely as you won, you basely left me.
Phors.
Ask your Ambition, Madam, who deceiv'd you:
The Court Magnificence, our Royal Grandeur
Our Wealth, which scarce your Indian Mines can purchase;
These were the Charms, and these you fear to lose.
Issa.
Didst thou not Sigh and Languish at my Feet?
Swear that thou lov'dst me more than fame or pow'r,
Than Riches, Health, or what in Life is sweet,
And yet, ingrate, before a Month is past,
'Tis all forgot, as if it ne're had been.
Phors.
No, I remember well your Artful wiles,
Your soft bewitching Airs, you Sung, you Play'd,
You look'd, you drest, and deckt your self for conquest;
You met my wishes, flatter'd my desires,
And with the cunning of your Sex enslav'd me.
In War and Love, what er'e by Art is got,
Is sooner lost, than what is won by Arms.
Issa.
Didst thou not point thy Dagger to my Breast;
And with the view of sudden Death surprise me?
Say, did thy Flattery, or Threats prevail?
Say have I since I joyn'd my Fate with thine,
Discover'd by a tender Word or Smile
The least content, or that I lik'd thy Love?
Phors.
You shew your liking when you dread a Change
Issa.
No Tyrant, if thy Life, thy all's too little
To Answer my desert from thee, I well
May rave to think that I'm repay'd with scorn.
Tis just, ye pow'rs! Ev'n this from him is just;
These Tears to IOpano's Death are due.
I who no sooner heard he was no more,
But took a Monster to his Bed; I see
My ruin is as plain as thou art false.
15
Fall on the Traytor who Debauch'd my Vertue.
Phors.
What's Vertue in a Woman but her Pride,
Which gives her an excuse to be Imperious?
Self Love and open Affectation all,
As troublesom to others as your selves:
When Pomp and Adoration are in view,
The Phantom to her Native Air returns.
Issa.
Judge not of other Women, by thy Wife;
As I in pitty to Mankind am loth
To think 'em all such Wretches as thy self.
Hard Fate, that I shou'd meet with thee the worst!
Who once was happy in the best of Men.
Phors.
This worst of Men, this Traytor yet is he
Who rais'd you from a Wand'rer to a Station
Which Queens might Envy, by your Faithful Lord
Forsaken, I lookt kindly on your wants;
Receiv'd you to my Arms, and whom at first
My Charity maintain'd, my Love enrich'd;
And thus you thank me: How could I expect
A Sense of Gratitude in thee?
Whose Jealousy abus'd the best of Sisters,
Discreet and Vertuous as she's Young and Fair,
Her Virgin Soul as Beauteous as her Form,
And both by thine Unequal'd.
Issa.
Yes! I in her shall soonest reach thy Heart:
Thy Malice I despise and hate thee more
For thinking me a Fool, than for betraying me.
If thy False Tongue cou'd charm me, have I lost
My Sight, and must not what I see believe?
To Madness may'st thou Love her; and may she
Like thee be Faithless; may I loath thee more
Than Heav'n does Hypocrites, or Hell the Just:
May Food be Poison to me, Light a Plague;
May Sleep be banisht from these Orbs, may Pain,
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May Want, and Universal scorn attend me,
If as thy Wife, thou dost again possess me.
Love both of you, Love on; but think and tremble
What I have done to please thee; what my rage
May do to be reveng'd.
Phors.
And if I e'er desire to see thee more,
May Noise and Jealousie, Domestick rage
And all the Civil Furies of a Wife
For ever be my Portion. Oh Lucinda!
Tis thou hast rais'd the Dang'rous War within:
My Honour Combates with the Tyrant Love,
But Fights as if he wisht not to o'ercome:
Shall I be daunted by a Womans threats,
Or melted with a Maids affected Tears?
No, by my Wishes I'll prevent thy Malice;
Secure her in my Arms, and rapt with Joy
Will all her Fears, and all my own Destroy.
The End of the Second Act.
| The Governour of Cyprus | |