University of Virginia Library

SCENE, An Apartment in Fabio's House.
SERAPHINA and FABIO.
SERAPHINA.
Assure him also,
That this his most indulgent tenderness
Has charm'd me much, and in my true regard,
Gives him most potently pre-eminence.

FABIO.
Then for your thought use such appliances
As may engender strong affection tow'rds him:
What boots it that a tenant of the tomb
Should occupy your heart?—

SERAPHINA.
Speak not, my father! with this levity,
Of such as moulder in the grave! there are,
Who tho' they never more can love the living,
May yet adore the dead.—

FABIO.
The fleetest mules await to bear you hence,
And lend your chariot speed to match your wishes.
Soon will I visit your lone habitation,
In trust to find these wrong designs subdu'd.

SERAPHINA.
Most willingly I leave the splendid nothings
Of life's exaltment: what is busy greatness,
The pageantry of pride, or wild ambition?
They are the airy offspring of deceit!
But 'tis the faithful interest of the bosom,
The dear attachment, the transcendent fondness,
Which raise us far above each selfish meaning,
And make existence rapture.—Oh! from me
All prospect of delight is gone for ever—
In the abode I seek, my mind shall settle
To the composure of consistent grief;
And when, each day, with duteous reverence,
I shall have paid my vows to heav'n for Alba,
I'll steal one secret moment, to deplore
The youth I've lost, and weep for my Lorenzo.
Farewel, commend me to the Duke, Farewel.

FABIO.
My proper wishes bless you!—
[Exit Seraphina.
Her presence only tends to irritate
The haughty Guzman, and induce his hate
Of me, and of herself, but this division
Will, by an efficacious prudence, lead
To more content hereafter.—

Enter Servant.
SERVANT.
My lord! there is a stranger asks admission.

FABIO.
Bid him enter—

[Exit Servant.
Enter Garcias.
GARCIAS.
The nobleman I seek is called Don Fabio.

FABIO.
You see him here, Sir!—

GARCIAS.
My lord! I proffer tidings, which shall yield you
A lasting joy (or much my mind deludes me);
And which, perhaps, will render him who speaks them
Welcome, however otherwise unworthy.

FABIO.
This introduction truly seems to flatter
My list'ning sense, I pray you then proceed.

GARCIAS.
From fierce assailments in the proof of honor,
And num'rous perils of the grappling galley,
From sea disasters, the imperious taunts
Of petty despots, and abhorred chanis,
Return'd in safety, Count Lorenzo greets you,
By me his messenger.—

FABIO.
Ha! The Count Lorenzo! said you, return'd?
Here to Madrid? it cannot be, how has he
Escap'd from slavery?—

GARCIAS.
Were you inform'd then of his wretched fate?

FABIO.
O no! I varied many pow'rful means
To gain intelligence, convers'd with travellers,
Promoted wide enquiry, saw such merchants
As had an intercourse with distant states,
But all in vain.—Yet once I heard it mention'd
That he was dead, which sunk me deep in sorrow.
And now with unfeign'd grief I execrate
(Aside.
His too assur'd existence.—

GARCIAS.
Methinks you seem to be much agitated
By my disclosure, as tho' th' event had brought
No exquisite delight.—

FABIO.
You do my nature wrong; but the first news
With so precipitate a pleasure met me,
That it overcame my reason, and my tongue
Wander'd without its guide. O blissful hearing!
O joy unparallel'd! I shall behold
Again the valued youth, the Lord Lorenzo!

GARCIAS.
If I possess discernment, this Don Fabio
Is but a hollow, and a base dissembler.

(Aside.
FABIO.
Where may I find him soonest, for my soul
With true affection longs to welcome him?
And I have many stories of import
To vent upon his ear. O wond'rous rapture!
That he should still be living!—

GARCIAS.
To the much honour'd lady, Zoriana,
He now pours forth his thanks, for she it was
Who trac'd his destiny, and then releas'd him
By quick-remitted ransom; hence, 'tis plain
In all Madrid she was his truest friend.
If you shou'd wish to hold discourse with him,
Present occasion offers at her palace;
But having claimed too much of your attention,
I take my leave:—Detested hypocrite!
(Aside.)
Exit Garcias.

FABIO.
May pestilence assail him, and despair
For ever be his miserable portion!—
Yet words are the fit solace of an ideot;
Wise men should plan and execute.—I'll seek him,
And by impressions apposite, controul
His mind's misgivings should they work against me
Yes, I'll exhibit some well colour'd tale
That shall deceive his vision, for too far
Am I advanc'd in action to retreat;
Then shall assiduous cunning and exploit,
Allure him to my toils, and there confound.
Exit Fabio.