University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter Gonz. Arm. Euph.
Gon.
I say you must not, must not, my Armida,
Think more of Rodomond.

Arm.
Who can but think of that Illustrious Prince,
Who thinking not admires, and then
Not turn their Admiration into Love.

Gon.
There are Eternal Bars between you,
You know that he's design'd for bright Cimene,
And with her Love, the Throne.

Arm.
My thoughts, my Lord, are scarce so vain
To hope I shall be happy in my Love,
All that I ask of Heav'n and You,
Is Leave to Love, what I must ne'er possess,
Love him alone, and never hear of others.

Gon.
Not hear of others? O what means thy Folly,
When at thy Feet a dying Monarch lies,
The Glory, and the Terrour of the World,
Armida, change thy inauspicious Love,
And mount the mighty Almerick's Throne.

Arm.
You know, my Lord, the Prince and I
Have underneath one Roof been bred,
That Habit first contracted such a Friend,
As knit by Just Degrees to Love,
That Love, to such a Noble, Ardent Passion
So deeply rooted, and so firm,
It cannot now transplanted be nor touch'd,
Without destroying of the Tree.

Gon.
The Change of Soil may meliorate the Plant,
The King designs to visit you to night,
Receive that Honour with good Grace.

Arm.
What! Change my Love, my Rodomond?
With all the Charms of Majesty, and Youth,
Cover'd with Lawrels, and adorn'd with Fame,
For the Addresses of a Prince, whose Age
May justly bid me call him Father.

Gonz.
By Heav'n thou know'st not what is good, Armida,
The King's not young 'tis true, nor is he old,
Just on the Summit of the Hill of Life,
He sees as much before him, as behind,
An Easie, Gentle, Long Descent of Time,
Where with the Heighth's Advantage he looks round,
While they who climb, can have but half the Prospect,
Yet thou prefer'st the Spring of giddy Youth,
To that Mature, and far more perfect Age,
Fraught with the Noble Harvest of Man's Life,
Experience, Temper, and consummate Wisdom:
Thy Rodomond, 'tis true has all the Charms,
And shining Qualities, of a Glorious Prince,
Virtues, which without Title to a Crown,
Would give a Subject merit to pretend,
But yet believe me, O believe me, Child,
Whose silver Hairs with Ills have dearly bought
A long Experience; The Fire of Youth's too hot,
Too furious to last long, is but a Lamp,
Whose Flame too great, most greedily drinks up
That Unctuous Liquor, which shou'd feed its Being,
Then dies, and vanishes in Smoak,
Such is the Love of Youth.

Arm.
'Tis that bright Fire so warms the Heroe's Blood,
And makes the difference in Men.

Gon.
No, No, too hot, too like the Summer Sun,
When on the Lion's back, with Beams direct
He Burns, and Withers, what he should but Nourish,
But riper Age when grown Sedate,
Like a fine Autumn Day, has every Charm,
Bright without dazling, without Scorching Warm.
Exit Gon.

Arm.
How strange a Fate attends my Love,
What can the Happiest of my Sex desire,
But what I seem to have? I Love, and find
My Love with Interest return'd, the bravest Man
The Spacious Earth sustains, is proud to lay
His Laurels at my Feet
But still the fatal Passion of the King
Obstructs our Wishes, and destroys our hopes.

Eup.
I always thought, Love was the greatest good,
In all the pretty tales I ever read,
Tho' lowring Fortune for a while did frown,
Some kinder Stars at last shin'd out to make
The Lovers happy.

Arm.
O shun that Passion, as thou would'st thy bane,
The deadliest foe to human Happiness,
That Poysons all our Joys, destroys our Quiet.
If thy well guarded Breast has yet secur'd,
Thy tender Heart, Euphelia, from his rage,
Congratulate thy Stars, thrice happy Maid,
And by my Wreck, the fatal Shelf avoid,
Love, Like a Beauteous Field, at first appears,
Whose pleasing Verdure ravishes the Sight,
But all within the hollow, treacherous Ground,
Is nought but Caverns of Perdition.

Eup.
'Tis, Madam, time to wait upon the Princess.

Arm.
I goe, Euphelia, to see
The best of Women, and the best of Friends,
Into her gentle Bosom pour my Sighs,
The only Balm to my afflicted Mind,
Her generous Pity softens every Grief,
For all the wretched Love to be condol'd,
Such is the Use, and Noble End of Friendship
To bear a part in every Storm of Fate,
And by Dividing, Lighter make the Weight.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Scene Opens:
Cimene, Rosane.
After the SONG: Enter Arm. Ir. Euph.
Cim.
Armida welcome, I have long'd to see you,
But why those graceful Sorrows on that Brow?
Why frown those Looks by Nature form'd to smile?
Methinks the News of Rodomond's Success,
And quick return, shou'd make your hopes revive.

Arm.
He comes, 'tis true, but never to be mine,
You, happy Princess, have a greater share
In his good Fortune, than the lost Armida.

Cim.
I! Armida?

Arm.
Yes, you Cimene.

Cim.
What means my Friend?

Arm.
My Father has been with me from the King,
And that his Arguments may more prevail,
To dis-engage me from my plighted Faith,
Assures me Rodomond is lost to me,
That now at his return, the King designs
To join your Hands.

Cim.
So soon! O Heav'ns how shall we ward
This cruel Stroak?

Arm.
'Tis not in Fate, and I am lost for ever,
This night, this night, the Glorious Victor comes,
Adorn'd with all the shining Wreaths of Fame,
Cimene must reward the Heroe's toil,
Cimenes soft Caresses must deface
The Memory of Scars, and dire Fatigues,
Of tedious Hours in Winter Camps consum'd;
Oh happy Princess, glorious in my Ruins,
You only can deserve, what 'tis my Fate to lose.

Cim.
I Glorious in thy Ruins?

Arm.
Mine, Mine Cimene.

Cim.
Unjust Armida, you seem with Envy Picqu'd,
To look on me, as if I were your Rival,
You know how my Affection stands engag'd,
You know your Brother has possess'd my Heart,
The Noble Adelan is there too strong,
To be in danger of another's Love,
But this Reflection is unkind,
Unworthy of our Friendship.

Arm.
Forgive me Princess, I am much too blame
My Cruel Fortunes so distract my Mind,
I know not hardly what I say.

Ir.
'Tis now no time, for Childish, Vain Complaints,
The Refuge of the Abject in Distress,
Propose some way, to stop the present ill,
Amuse the King, and Frustrate his Design,
The Danger pressing Calls for Resolution.

Cim.
I see no way, but positive Denial;
Had we more time, there might be some Resource.

Ir.
Such a Refusal, wou'd but Wing your Fate;
The King Enrag'd to find his hopes deceiv'd,
To find a Son, a long Expected Son,
Reject his Daughter, and become his Rival,
Wou'd ruine all who dare his Will oppose.

Cim.
But since or First, or Last we must refuse,
And the impending Storm cannot be shun'd;
Methinks 'tis Nobler for to meet our Fate,
The Danger will be sooner past.

Arm.
I stand prepar'd for ev'ry Shock,
And all the bane, ill-mingled Stars can shed,
Since Rodomond is all the World to me;
And losing him, I must lose all I hope.
Let Fortune Rage, they sure are fond of Life
Who wou'd the World survive.

Cim.
Ah! Wretched Maid, I cou'd thy Fate deplore,
But Pity only from the happy's due.
My Gloomy Stars are Intricate as thine,
I Love like thee, and yet conceal my flame,
Which burns the more, the more it is supprest,
But you perhaps may Wonder at my Prudence.

Arm.
Prudence, Cimene? the more of that,
Just so much less of Love.

Enter Woman.
Wom.
Madam, the King!

Arm.
I fly, Cimene, for I dare not see him,
And yet I must this fatal Night,
Like a poor Criminal Condemn'd, who knows
That he must Dye, yet vainly would Defer
The fatal Minute.

Ir.
Compliance feign, and so procure delay.

Enter King, Gonz. Roder, Alb. Mer. &c.
King.
Prepare, Cimene, to Adorn this Night;
Prepare the God-like Victor to receive,
By great Atchievments worthy of thy Love.
'Tis you alone who can repay the Debt
We owe to such Illustrious Merit.

Cim.
You Injure, Sir, the Glory of the Prince,
To rate his mighty Services to Love,
As to be recompenc'd by me.

King,
Cimene and a Crown! What more
Can his Ambition, tho' 'twere boundless, hope?
What more can I repay?

Cim.
Not, that I would so despicable seem,
But that a Monarch may be justly proud
To yield his Heart to Charms as weak as mine.
But—

King.
No more Excuses: What I Command,
Without reserve, a Daughter must obey:
My Prudence this Alliance has design'd;
And 'tis your Duty to approve my Choice.

Cim.
Tho' none more filial, Piety shall obey,
Tho' none, shall more Implicitly receive,
As Sacred, all your Pleasure shall Command;
In this one point permit me a Reserve,
Where all the happiness of Life's concern'd.
Let your indulgence, Sir, divide your Power;
The Father soften, what the King Commands.

King.
I'll hear no more, resolve to acquiesce,
And make my Will thy Choice: Thou know'st not sure
The value of the gift I offer.

Cim.
If that were all to hinder my assent,
It wou'd be height of Madness to refuse,
Or Blindness not to see the Prince's Merit.
But, Sir, suppose he sees not with your Eyes,
And disapproves the Choice you make for him;
He never yet to me confest a flame.
Or what is worse, may be indifferent.

King.
Thou know'st not sure thy Charms, Cimene,
Thus to distrust their Power.

[Shouts at distance
Enter Malespine.
Mal.
The Prince is at the Gates.

King.
Is all prepar'd to grace the Noble Triumph?

Mal.
Your Orders are obey'd: In Purple Robes,
With Solemn State, the Magistrates proceed;
The Streets adorn'd, the Doors with Statues grac'd,
Vast Thronging Crouds retar'd the great Procession,
Whose loud repeated Shouts divide the Air.
While fluttering Birds their empty Pinions Shake,
With Garlands crown'd the Virgins strow the ways,
And in glad Hymns repeated his Glorious Name,
While joyful Mothers to their Wondring Babes
Point out the Heroe, as he drives along.

Gon.
aside]
See, Roderick, see, this Villain now designs
To stir up the Kings Envy.

King.
Can this be heard, and thou not melt Cimene?
Go, go, my Child; but leave these Frowns behind,
Adorn thy self, as for my Nuptial Day.
With all the Charm, and splended Pomp of Beauty;
With all the Graces, that your Sex assume
When they design a Conquest.

Cim.
For Women, Sir, to offer Love is far below
The Dignity of the Sex;
Our Fond Advances make the Men more vain,
Whose wandring Flames are like that Treacherous Fire
In marshy Fenns, from Exhalations bred;
Which when pursu'd before us runs.
And follows when we Fly:
We Covet still, what we acquire with Pain,
For Love, like Eastern Majesty conceal'd;
Is more ador'd, the less he is reveal'd.

[Ex. Cum. Roz.
King.
She bears a Spirit worthy of her Blood;
Worthy the Heroe for her Bed design'd,
Whose Merrit Claims the Mistress of the World:
There was a time, this Arm perform'd like him.

Gonz.
Noble Examples Noble Deeds exites.
The Prince with generous Emulation fir'd,
Treads in your steps, and that bright tract pursues.

Mal.
But undiscerning Men forget the Past;
The present still adore.

King.
No more of that, those thoughts be gone;
'Tis base to Envy what we shou'd Admire.

Enter Tanored.
Tan.
Prince approaches.

[Trumpets and Shouts within.
Enter Rodomond in Triumph, Adelan, Officers, &c.
King.
Welcome as Life, as Victory, and Fame,
As hope to Lovers, or the Tortur'd Wretch
Cessasion of his Pain. O, Rodomond!
[Embraces.
How shall my Gratitude return the vast,
The boundless Sum I owe?

Rodo.
Your glorious service is its own reward;
For Almerick I fought; like Almerick o'ercame.

[King and Rod. seem talking.
Gon.
My Noble Son, as welcome to
These Arms:
[Embraces.
Thou Prop and comfort of my useless Age,
Thy early Glories in the Chace of Fame,
Reflect new Lustre, and our House confirm.

Ad.
I shou'd degenerate my Lord,
At humble distance, shou'd I not pursue
Your glorious Steps, and shew from whence I came:
'Tis Natures most Inviolable Law,
To make each Species propogate its kind;
The generous Off-spring from the generous Stock,
Derive the Virtues, and confess the Sire.

King and Rod. Advance.
Rod.
Impute, Great King, no more to my desert,
What Fortune, or your Genious gave.

King.
O Rodomond, there is but one return
My Pow'r can make: Thou know'st I have design'd
My only Daughter for your Bed and Throne;
It were unjust, now longer to defer
Your Mutual Bliss, to Morrows Sun
Shall grace your happy Nuptials.

Ro.
Starts aside.]
The Thunder breaks, I must dissemble.
Ha! Thou seem'st surpriz'd! what wants Cimene,
Virtue, Charms, or Blood?

Rod.
Far from my Soul, be such an impious Thought;
The Princess stands of every Grace possess'd,
Of every Charm that bounteous Nature gives,
Or Women think they have.

King.
Why seem you doubtful to accept my gift?

Rod.
Her Sanction can only confirm the Grant;
I have not yet deserv'd so great a Blessing.
Tho' you have power to give Cimenes hand
[Arm. appears in the Balcony.
'Tis the Owner should dispose her Heart;
Cimene first must give me leave to Love,
While I endeavour to deserve that Honour.

Ar.
Above.]
He yields, he yields, O false Perfidious Prince!

[Exit.
King.
She has no Choice, no Interest, or Will,
Her Hopes, her Thoughts must Center all in mine:
By my Command, she now expects your coming.

Rod.
You may Command; a Lover first shou'd Wooe.

King.
Go Wooe her then, and all thy Stars attend:
Conduct him, Roderick, to the Princess.
O happy Youth, thou need'st but ask,
And all that Fate can give, is in thy reach,
While my successless Love invokes the Wind.
Lead on Gonzalvo, to Armida.

[Ex. King Gonz. &c.
Manent Rod. Roder, &c.
Rod.
Lead on Gonzalvo to Armida! Oh! that sound,
Those fatal accents pierce my trembling Soul;
I hop'd repulses wou'd have cur'd his Love,
But still I find he perseveres. O Roderick!
My faithful Friend, in every Scene of Life,
Maintains the bright Armida still the Field?
Resists she still the Kings repeated Storms?

Roder.
Not Rooted Oaks the force of raging Winds,
Nor Natures Barrs, on their Strong Basis fixt,
Repel the fury of Insulting Waves
With greater firmness, than resolv'd Armida
Defies the Charms of Majesty and Power.
But, O, desist, this Love can ne'r succeed.

Ad.
O Rodomond, what strange malignant Stars
Thus blast our Loves! and Nip our hopes of Joy!
We both aspire with the most Glorious flames,
And yet are forc'd our Passions to disguise!
There very mention carries Fate.

Rod.
'Tis great to suffer for so brave a Cause,
Which will the firmness of our Courage try,
We must, my Friend, Resolve to bear the Storm,
First to our beautious Mistresses repair,
With them Consult what measures to pursue,
Support their Virtue, and their Love confirm.
As for my self, I'll shew the wondering World
The Noblest Sacrifice, Love ever made;
Make all confess, how far a generous flame
Transcends Ambition, and the hope of Crowns;
In any other Cause it wou'd be wrong
The Glittering Charms of Scepters to despise:
But bright Armida is the Nobler Prize,
And boundless Empire triumphs in her Eyes.

Exeunt Omnes.