University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Long Walk in a Garden.
Enter Irene, Armida, Euphelia.
Ire.
Compress thy Sighs, and Calm thy Grief, Armida,
Thou shalt not be Compell'd to Change thy Love,
Thy Father dazled with a Crown's false Lustre,
To Pomp and Power would Sacrifice thy Quiet,
But I, my Dearest Child, had rather see
Thy Happiness, than Grandeur.

Arm.
Tho' more than Common Duty should be paid,
To such Indulgence, in the best of Mothers,
Forgive me, Madam, If my Love Presume,
Bold Love, who knows no Ties of Blood, or Duty;
To Cross, or Contradict what you ordain,
When poor Armida can her self Command,
You always shall Command Armida.

Ir.
Not that I Disapprove thy noble Flame,
Whose Object Merits all that Man can hope,
But since the King so Passionately Loves,
Whose Power can take what we refuse to give,
You must keep Measures with so great á Rival,
With false Appearances Elude his Hope,
And sooth his Love, 'till Rodomond return:
To fix thy safety by a sure Possession.

Arm.
O I never Could Dissemble.

Ir.
But now Necessity must teach you,
The Princess too must Counterfeit a Passion,
And make the King believe she Loves,
As he directs, and that his Choice is hers,
Or you are lost for ever;
You manage that, and leave the rest to me,
Whose Care shall all the Obstacles Remove,
That Interfere betwixt you and Happiness:
Amuse the King, but Love him not Armida,
Of all Mankind renounce the thoughts of Him.

Arm.
Of all Mankind, I cannot say I hate,
But I am sure, that I could never Love him.

Ir.
The reason you shall know in time, 'tis now
Improper, but see your Father and Roderick
Approach, let us retire.

[Exeunt

SCENE II.

Enter Gonzalvo and Roderick:
Gonz.
You hear the news Roderick?

Rod.
I hear my Lord the Armies are in sight
Of one another.

Gonz.
Yes Roderick, the Silver Po Divides them,
Whose beauteous Face, before the setting Sun,
With purple Streams will be distain'd:
On either Bank an Iron harvest stands
Of shaking Spears, which at each other brandish'd,
Defiance, Horrour, Death, and Ruine Menace,
Till the retreating River in a fright,
Forsake his Bed, to make a Passage
For the furious Combatants.

Rod.
Heaven send us Victory.

Gon.
O fear not that, 'tis Almerich's Sword is Drawn,
And the young Rodomond's Arm that weilds it:

Rod.
But Victory not always is Entaild,
The Wise their Conduct lose, the Strong their Force,
'Tis Heaven alone the fate of Empire weighs,
Whose Power resistless by all Human Force,
Derides our Prudence, and our shallow fore-sight,
By Interposing the minutest Accidents
Unthought of, Unforeseen, by Man's dim Eyes,
Tears from the Victor, what he thought secure,
And turns the Fate of Battle.

Gon.
Thou preachest Roderick, but I'm surpriz'd
To find a Courtier talk of Heaven,
Who all are Atheists by Profession.

Rod.
My Lord Gonzalvo, you have known me, long,
Tho' bred in Courts, I yet stand uninfected,
Nor have their Vices stain'd my spotless Honour,
No Servile flattery can guild my Tongue,
To poyson Princes, Truth I always spoke,
Tho' certain Ruin should attend my Frankness;
Besides I always have maintain'd a Faith
To Rodomond Inviolable.

Gon.
My Friend, I know thee Honest, wondrous Honest,
Which has for thee Inspired peculiar Love,
Thy faith to Rodomond shall be rewarded,
When he shall Mount the Lombard's Glorious Throne,
The Generous Almerick tho' he slew his Father,
In noble Justice to that Prince his Right,
Adopts him for his Son, and Successor;
And for a Pledge, to make that tie the stronger,
Designs his only Child at his return,
The Bright Climene, for his Wife.

Rod.
'Tis true the noble King has wondrous Virtues,
Just, Valiant, Courteous, Merciful and Good,
Now Wise as Man, and then as weak as Woman,
When head-strong Passion gets the reins of Reason,
The force of Nature like too strong a Gale
For want of Ballast over-sets the Vessel.
Then he's Capricious, Humerous as the Wind,
Deaf and Inexorable as a Storm,
But strait he cools, and sinks into a Calm,
As Mild and Humble as a Child Corrected.

Gon.
That momentary Weakness shews him Man,
But soon his Virtue re-inforc'd takes Place,
And like the Sun dispels the Fogs, and Clouds
Which over shadow'd his benighted Reason,
Then strait the God breaks forth again.

Rod.
But yet this great, this mighty Victor, who
With numerous Swarms pour'd from the frozen North,
Like a fierce Torrent, over-flow'd the fair
Italian Plains, and bore down all before him,
Who Conquer'd Gondibert in single Combat,
Then fix'd his Crown on his Victorious Head,
And took Ravenna, tho' by you defended,
This Heroe now in his Declining Age
Turns Foolish boy, and Idly falls in Love
With fair Armida, thy most Beauteous Daughter,
The Helm of Empire gives to Miscreant Hands,
And all Unnerv'd in Lethargies of Love
Sleeps in the Vessel that he ought to Steer.

Gon.
And why not, Roderick, why not love Armida?
If Beauty, Virtue, Chastity have Charms,
And Royal Blood from Famous Lombard Kings,
By me transmitted to her Noble Veins,
May make a Virgin worthy of a Crown,
The King Descends not when he Courts Armida;
But yet I apprehend this Fatal Passion,
When Almerick, who cannot Curb his Fury,
Shall know that Rodomond's his Rival;
Avert the Consequences, Heaven.

Rod.
It Cannot Long be secret, but see he Comes
The generous Goth approaches, an awfull Gloom
Spreads o'er his Face, and gnawing Cares of Love.
Indent his furrow'd Brows.

Enter King: Al. Mal. Alb. Mero, &c.
King.
The Armies are Engag'd, Gonzalvo,
The Valiant Rodomond has pass'd the Po.
To Force the Enemy to Battle.

Gon.
Arm'd with your Genius, Sir, and Sword,
He never can miscarry, nor will my Boy,
My Adelan, I hope Degenerate.

King.
O fear not that, thy Blood runs in his Veins,
And that will warm him, I oft have seen
Thy Son and Rodomond, those Twins of Mars,
Run faster to the Fight, than others from a Rout.

Mal.
That Glorious Prince, so Brave, so vers'd in War,
The Peoples Idol, and the Soldiers Darling
Must needs present you, Sir, with Conquest,
The Soldier's Love, is more than half the Battle.

Gonz.
Oh, Sir, observe the Poyson of those Words,
He never flatters, but he means to Stab.
I know thou hat'st Rodomond.

[To Mal.
Mal.
Now, Sir, you see the Malice of my Foes,
My most Sincere, and undesigning Words
Are always wrested by a false Construction.

Kin.
No more Gonzalvo, I will have you Friends,
'Tis not in him to give me wrong Impressions
Of that Brave Prince, whom I so long have Cherish'd.
Thou well remember'st, yet thou must Gonzalvo,
That Glorious Day when fate bequeath'd us Empire,
Then thou, and I were Foes, but since thy Faith
And Matchless Valour made us Friends.

Gonz.
Yes, Sir, I well remember.

King.
When at our Legions Head, the brave Old King,
And I, like Clouds with Thunder Charg'd,
Encountering rush'd together,
Long was the Tug of Fate, and Mutual Wounds
Receiv'd on either Side, at last my Stars
Prevail'd, and Gondibert, o'rethrown by Fate,
Resign'd that Life, he so deserv'd to keep,
Then Rodomond a Youth fought by his side,
Scarce fifteen Summers had pass'd o'er Head,
He saw him fall, and with a Filial Love
Stood o'er the Sacred Body to defend it,
My Arm arrested and Suspended Conquest;
Save, Save, O Save, the gallant Youth I Cry'd,
Whose Early Manhood's worthy of my Arms,
But he resolv'd, not to Survive his Father,
Refus'd all Quarter, and disdain'd our Mercy,
Four Noble Lives it Cost to Disarm him.

[Trumpet without
Mal.
Heark a Trumpet; News from the Army.

Kin.
My Stars exert your Heads, and pour
Your wonted Influence down.
[Enter Tancred with Letters
[Kneels to the King:
Speak Tancred, speak, how goes the Noble Day?
Joy in thy Looks, and Victory in thy Eyes;

Tan.
The Valiant Rodomond—

Kin.
I know what thou would'st say,
That Rodomond's Victorious

Tan.
Then Sir Possess, what your Ambition Grasps,
And all that Fate can give,
Ten thousand Prisoners, and as many Slain
Proclaim your Triumphs, thro' the frighted World.

[King reads
This morning we attaqu'd the Enemy
In their Trenches, and, after a Dispute
Of four hours, intirely routed them;
The Particulars I Leave to Tancred:

Gon.
I hope my Son perform'd his part.

Tan.
My Lord I left him cover'd o'er with Blood,
And Honourable Dust, the Prince and He
Will both be here to Night.
[Exit Tan.

King.
Rise, Rise, my Joys, Let every where be Triumph.
The Wretch who mourns to day shall dye,
Tho' he this Minute lost his Mistress.

Gon.
O how the Noble Story warms my Blood,
Contracts each Nerve my Cruel Age Extended,
And makes me fit to wield a Sword again.

Kin.
Thus fortune with new Triumphs Crowns my Arms,
But what she gives in Fields; resumes at Home.
Noble Ganzalvo, Venerable Old Man,
Who gave a being to my Beauteous Mistress,
How fares Armida? persevers She still
To rack a Miserable Monarch?

Gon.
I hope the Foolish Virgin will repent,
And meet that Honour, which she cannot Merit.

Kin.
This Night I do design to see her,
But first, my Friend, go thou prepare the way,
Say every thing, that Friendship can inspire,
Say all, that Almerick would say for thee,
Use all thy Power, But yet forget the Father,
Let no Command o'er-awe her native Sweetness,
And if all fail, for me, my Friend, turn Lover,
Weep, Sigh, and Beg, Use every moving Word,
And make my Love Successful as my Sword.

Exit Gon.
[The King returns from the Door and walks Pensive over the Stage with Arms folded!
Rod.
Shake off, great Sir, this Weight of killing Grief,
Which thus depresses all your rising Joys,
For this great Day, the Gods have given.

King.
The Joys which Conquest brings, are but a Flash,
A Momentary Flash, then disappear,
When fiercer Love succeeds with endless Pain,
O Roderick, did'st thou never love? Yes sure,
For Love's the Passion of a generous Mind,
Thou know'st the Dart that has transfix'd my Soul,
Whose bearded Point can never be drawn out.
But I am torn to pieces: The raging Fire,
Like Life and Soul, is spread thro' ev'ry Part,
Each melting Nerve is all on flame,
And every Fibre burns.

Rod.
Recal your Glorious Triumphs to your Mind,
See there that Image of the God of War,
Drive on to Conquest thro' the dusty Field,
But now so chang'd you seem no more the same,
Than on some guilded Mountain's Top, the faint
Reflection of the Sun is Day,
When he is set.

Kin.
No more my Friend, good Roderick, no more,
Of foolish Honour, Triumphs and Renown,
I now grow weary of that Savage Trade,
Methinks by far 'tis better to preserve,
Than to destroy; Love's gentle Fire,
Has melted all the Brutal Hero down,
While the more Noble Passions like pure Gold
Sink in a Lump, abstracted from their Dross;
'Tis you, O Malespine, and such as you
Unhappy Ministers to cheated Princes,
Who make new Quarrels, new Pretences find,
To please us Wretches, who destroy Mankind.

[Ex. Kin. Gon.
Manent Alb. Mal. Mer.
Mal.
Yes, yes, Prince Rodomond hates me,
Most mortally, Albazar, he knows
That I betray'd his Father, which he
Severely will revenge, when ever on the Throne.

Alb.
We therefore must prevent it.

Mal.
Prevent it, yes, but how Albazar?
I've try'd a thousand ways to work his Ruine with the King
But still in vain, he's Deaf to all my Arts,
So Down-right, Generous, Frank, and open
He thinks Mankind as Honest as himself,
He means no Ill, and consequently fears none.

Alb.
The Goth's not yet worn off, Italian Air,
In time will make him wiser.

Mal.
My Friend, in this Emergency assist,
Thou had'st a Soul once form'd for Glorious Mischief,
The Rival Prince returns with Lawrels Crown'd,
To wed Climene, and destroy my Hopes.

Alb.
There yet is one Resource.

Mal.
O speak my better Angel.

Alb.
The Spies which I by your Command employ,
Inform me that there is a mighty Love
'Twixt Rodomond, and Armida.

Mal.
Confirm it Heav'n: Can this be true?

Alb.
As true as 'tis a mighty Secret.

Mal.
Rise, rise, my Genius then the worst is done,
Here's Glorious Matter for a Scene of Mischief,
Tho' unsusceptible his heedless Soul
Of Jealousie, where Empire is concern'd,
His stronger Passion will admit no Rival,
His Love cut down all that shall grow before it,
Cramm'd to the Throat with Sulphur he'll take Fire
To burn himself, and Rodomond.

Alb.
So far 'tis well, but you my Lord this while
Forget your Love, Cimene is forgot.

Mal.
Poor weak Albazar, Can'st thou think I love?
A Statesman Love Albazar? No, no,
Whose Soul is with Ambition Fir'd,
Can have no room for any other Passion,
The poys'nous Shade of that destructive Plant,
Will suffer nothing to grow near it,
Or like the Plague in Epidemick Years,
Turns all the Less Distempers to it's self,

Alb.
But sure there may be Intervals for Love.

Mal.
So far from Love, or any Generous flame,
That he, like me, who would be great, Albazar,
Must Conscience drown as Harlots Choak their Infants,
Must Stifle all the Sentiments of Nature,
Break thro' the Ties of Honour and of Blood,
Of Friendship, Common Faith, and Gratitude,
Dissolve the Bands, that first linkt Men together,
When mutual wants, from Nature's Common call'd,
The happier Savage into fatal Cities,
All this I've done to Gondibert already,
And must repeat to Almerick.

Alb.
But since her Title will Confirm your Claim
Methinks 'tis better to have her Consent.

Mal.
That is all one, when I have Power,
When I am Master of the Father's Throne,
With Ease I shall possess the Daughter.
Let other Lovers Languish, sigh and Whine
And meanly stoop, to Court Imperious Beauty,
Like Foolish Chymists Sweat and Toyl in vain
To find Elixirs only in the Brain.
Youth, Wealth, and Time, in the pursuit all spent,
When they would prove the Dear Experiment;
The Golden Joys, the Lover's Hope to find,
In Fumes are flown, and onely Dross behind.

[Exeunt