University of Virginia Library

ACT III

SCENE I.

Enter King, Gonz. Arm. Euph.
King.
What can the most ambitious Virgin wish,
But what my power can give? O Cruel Maid!
Obstruct no more thy Glory, and thy Fate,
Receive thy Fortune, which with open Arms
Flies to embrace thee: O relent, relent,
Accept a Monarch, and ascend a Throne.

Arm.
Tho' vain my Youth, tho' vainer is my Sex,
My warmest thoughts durst never yet aspire
To feed the hope of such a glittering Folly;
No, no, my Stars some meaner choice design,
Whose Faith, whose Love and Constancy may Merit
The poor return that I can make.

King.
Merit, Armida?
If none but who deserve you may pretend,
Mankind must yield, and the Dispute is over.
Ev'n I, who Love the best of human race,
Adorn'd with Majesty, and Arm'd with Power,
Cannot pretend to such Exalted Merit,
No, Almerick must despair; and thou Armida, Live
And die a Virgin.

Arm.
When Kings beneath their Majesty Descend,
And take unequal Partners to their Beds,
Experience shews, ill Consequence still
Attend the weakness of their Choice.

King.
What canst thou fear, when mounted on my Throne?
What canst thou hope, my Love will not confirm?

Arm.
Cou'd reason guide us in the paths of Love,
To whom might not great Almenick pretend?
But since by Destiny we Love or Hate,
Since some resistless power unseen debars
The freedom of our Choice, and sways the Will,
Impute not my Misfortune, to a Crime;
I cannot Love the King.

King.
O Armida!
Why wer't thou fram'd so exquisitely Fair,
The Angel stamp'd upon that beautious Face,
Without a Mind proportion'd to thy Form?
Bright as a Star, why wilt thou not pour down
Propitious influence to preserve Mankind?
But like a Comet, with portensous blaze
Of threatning beauty shine, and arm'd with Fate,
Presage Destruction, and the Fall of Kings.

Arm.
What you Demand I want the power to Give;
But with reluctance 'tis that I refuse
To Crown the Merit of that Glorious Prince;
Whom I shall always Honour, and Esteem,
But never Love.—

King.
Never, Armida! O, recall that sound.
That Breath conveys my Fate.
That balmy breath which wou'd the dead revive,
Make the warm'd blood in purple mazes Dance,
And re-assume the interrupted round,
Arm'd with those fatal accents of Despair,
While you relentless, thus pronounce my doom,
Kills like a Basilisk; O, Savage Maid!
Revoke thy hasty Sentence.

Arm.
'Tis fix'd as Fate, and never can be chang'd.

King.
Here will I rooted grow 'till thou relent,
Thou most Inhuman of thy Sex; kneel, kneel,
Gonzalvo, kneel, and keep thy wretched Prince
In Countenance; Invert the Laws of Nature,
And suppliant bow that Venerable Head,
To bend ungrateful Beauty.

[Pulls down Gonz.
Arm.
Whar means the King? what means my Father?
Oh! I shall die with shame; Rise, Rise,
I conjure you, Rise, and leave a wretched Maid
To her ill Fate, who never can Comply:
O Never, Never.

Gonz.
Unworthy Off-spring of a Generous Race,
Thy Mother's Milk ne'r nurs'd that Savage Nature;
How canst thou hear, unmov'd, those melting sighs
Wou'd tame the fierceness of relenting Tygers?
Thus, Thus I tear thee from my bleeding Breast;
Fly from my Sight, remote as from my Heart.

Arm.
Why did you give me Life to make me wretched?
Resume that gift, and I will bless the Blow:
I yield to die; but would not live unhappy.

Gonz.
O Sir, forget her, the Fool cannot deserve
The Honour you design; convert your Love
To noble Scorn and Indignation.

King.
O that I could, Gonzalvo! O that my rage,
Blown to the height, could now repel my Love,
As Storms of Thunder drive against the Wind!
I burn, I burn, and never shall have ease.

Gonz.
Call in your Pride to help your struggling Virtue
To lay this Storm which Tears you by the Roots,
With Patience.—

King.
Patience! the refuge of poor stupid Cowards;
Go, bid some Massy Ponderous falling weight
Fly from it's Center, and remount the Air;
Then, then, I will be patient.

Gonz.
But Sir—

King.
I cou'd swallow Seas,
Pour down the Danube, pour the Volga down,
When melting Snows extend his broken Shores,
When with Impetuous hast his Torrents Rowl:
Not all those congregated flouds can Quench,
The raging Feavour in my Blood.

Gonz.
For Heav'ns sake be Calm; and vex no more
That generous Heart, whose every sigh
Is worth the whole Inchanting Sex.

King.
I will be Calm, Gonzalvo, yes, I'll Fly
Back to the Frozen North, from whence I came,
To the remotest Worlds extended Coast;
Where all things end, and Nature is no more.
T'listring Savages impart my Moan,
And curse the Beauteous Author of my Woes.

Gonz.
O Royal Almenick, thy grief distracts me!

King.
There in some lonely Cave rettir'd
Revolve the Tails which Priests and Poets feign
To paint the Sex so Cruel.
The Bard who charm'd the shades made furies weep,
And lull'd the Damn'd amidst their pains to sleep;
Who Panthers cou'd reclaim, or Beasts more fell,
Cou'd not the rage of furious Woman Quell;
Her wilder Heart no power of sound cou'd tame,
While the Creation melted with my Flame

[Exit King, Gonz.
Manent Arm. Euph.
Arm.
Was ever such a wretch Euphelia?
Debar'd the Man, whom I was Born to Love;
Pursu'd by him whom I was born to Hate:
The Kings Addresses fright my trembling Soul,
Curdle the flowing Blood, and Nature starts
I know not why.

Euph.
Despond not, Madam, sure the powers above
Such Innnocence and Virtue will relieve!
But see Prince Rodomond approaches.

Enter Rodomond.
Rodo.
Tho' Surges beat, and boystrous Winds repel,
Through Seas and Tempests I have made my way,
Like young Leander to the Sestian Maid.
Do I behold those Eyes again Armida?

Arm.
My Rodomond, if I may call you mine,
Whom destiny for ever will divide;
These flowing Eyes, these sighs but ill become
A glorious Victor's Triumph and return.

Rodo.
O dry those Tears, those Drops of Liquid Pearl,
More precious far than Aromatick Gums,
Or fragrant Balm, which Eastern Groves Distil.

Arm.
You opportunely to my rescue come,
The furious King abandon'd to his passion,
Has now pursued me with his fatal Love,
With Threats, and Promises, and every Art,
To make me violate my Faith to you,
That Faith and Constancy, which much I fear
Thou, Rodomond, deserv'st not.

Rodo.
Who can deserve Armida? But if

Arm.
Dissemble not, Excuses will be vain,
And only serve to aggravate thy Crime;
Too well I know thy false perfidious Vows,
Thy broaken Oaths are driven by the Winds.
How cou'dst thou treat me so ungentle, Rodomond?

Rod.
Whoever told Armida such a falshood,
Cou'd I th'officious Villain know—
I—

Arm.
There is no need of any other proof,
'Tis I my self am witness of thy Crime;
Had I not seen, I never cou'd believe.

Rod.
Unjust Armida, how wou'd you wrong my Honour?
But 'tis the trade of your deceiving Sex:
You weary grown, wou'd break the ties between us,
And your own falshood thus impute to me.

Arm.
Unheard of insolence! Fly from my sight
Ungreatful Prince.

Rod.
Is this Armida? the Gentle, Kind Armida!
Soft as the breezes of a Vernal Morn,
And mild as Infants newly Rock'd to sleep;
Such, such I left her: Oh, but now how chang'd!
I seem some poor Knight errant in Romance,
Who Battles Won, and Monstrous Gyants Slain,
Returns to lay his Trophies at her Feet,
Whose Smiles can only recompence his Toil;
When vile Inchanters the bright Virgin steal,
And in her stead, some Fairy Elf convey.

Arm.
Fly from my sight, how cou'd I Love
So false a Man! Be baser if thou canst
And Cure my Passion.

Enter Roderick.
Rodom.
Speak Roderick, speak, I see
Disaster in thy looks, thou ne'r cou'dst take
A better time to tell the worst of news.

Roder.
O, Sir, forgive me.

Rodo.
I tell thee Fate can now not cast me Lower,
My Ruin's Finish'd, all that thou canst say
With present Woes compar'd, will be a Scene of Joy;
A Conquerours transport in the Field of Battle.

Roder.
The King Enrag'd—

Rodom.
Speak on, I am prepar'd.

Roder.
The King enrag'd at his rejected Love,
Met treacherous Malespine, as he left Armida;
He has the secret of your Love betraid;
At which, not able to contain his Fury,
The King declaims you faln from your Command,
Your Posts, and Honours, and threatens Vengeance
On your Head.

Rodo.
I'm not surpriz'd; I did expect this Blow!
But see Armida how you wrong my Love,
My Honour, and my Faith; this base, this false
Perfidious Man, however shall obey you,
Yes, I will go;
As Seamen wrack'd on some inhuman Coast
For safety make the Land, and then are lost,
Thus I pursu'd by fate,
When to those Arms, my only port I hast,
Where all my hopes of happiness were plac'd,
By the fierce Savage from the Shore am Chas'd.

Rodo.
Stay Rodomond, stay, 'tis I Commanded you stay.

[going out.
Rodo.
That Voice wou'd raise me from the Grave.

Roder.
Hold, hold, my Lord, you die if you return.
That Syren Voice recals you to your Fate;
To that inevitable sinking Sand
On which you split before.

Rodo.
Away, and let me hug my ruine.

[Pushes him away, Embraces her.
Arm.
Were you a Lover, you wou'd surely bear
The weakness of your Mistress's Passion:
First know the cause re' you Condemn
My kind obliging Jealousie.

Roder.
He's lost again, for ever lost!
I cannot stay to see his ruin.

Exit.
Arm.
Led by my Love, I unobserv'd o'erheard
Your Conversation with the King;
And when I thought you yielded to his Will,
I entertain'd this just Suspicion.

Rodo.
By Heav'n I only did Dissemble.

Arm.
Whoe'r, Rodomond, like me can Love!
Like me, cannot Dissemble!
But why shou'd I complain, if you forsake
That wretch, whose fatal Love has thus undone thee?
O fly, with Tears I beg thee shun my Love,
There is Contagion in my Fate.

Rodo.
He is not ruin'd, who wou'd not be sav'd;
Tho' Tumbl'd headlong from my shining Sphear,
Thy Gentle Bosom breaks the mighty fall,
Be thou but constant, and I ask no more;
Fortune can nothing give, and nothing take.

Arm.
Bear record Heav'n, and all the conscious Stars,
Who doom our Loves to this Disastrous Fate;
Tho' Almerick;
Like thee, were Lovely, Beautiful and Young;
Tho' to his Empire the rich East were joyn'd,
And his Dominions boundless as his Love;
Tho' he wou'd make me Mistress of Mankind,
With Noble Scorn I wou'd Insult his flame,
Reject the Monarch, and a Crown disdain.

Rodo.
Hear, in return, Armida, what I Swear,
Tho' Fair Cimene all her Sex out Shin'd;
Tho' he who mounts her Bed, ascends a Throne;
Tho' Empire, Power, Glory, Riches, all
That wretched Mortals, Happiness, Misname,
Attend her Love, and the Refusal, Death;
Fix'd as the Pole, I never will comply;
But with Armida Live, or for Armida Dye.

[Exunt.

SCENE II.

A Long Garden.
Enter Mal. Alb. Mero.
Mal.
'Tis done, 'tis done, Albaza.
Prince Rodomond's ruine is Compleat,
Above the very prospect of my hopes;
Iv'e blown the King to such a height of rage,
As will his Rival Crush to pieces.

Alb.
You mind the minute, and your Fortune caught,
Or else this glazing Meteor had Eclips'd
Your fading Lustre, and destroy'd your Power:
All Eyes were fix'd on him, and every Voice
Proclam'd his Triumphs, magnified by Fame;
While you, who in his absence rul'd the Day,
Seem'd but a Shadow when you shin'd before.

Mal.
What you observe, Albazer, is too true;
When I with all the Courtiers Little Arts,
And deep dissimulation humbly bowd
To welcome his return, he cast a Glance,
A haughty Glance, which seem'd to speak contempt,
And scarse vouchsaf'd a supercilious Nod.

Alb.
Thus far, my Lord, you with the current Sail;
You've thrown the Rival of your Power down,
But if at last, through force, he shou'd comply,
And be restor'd to Favour and Command,
He'll rise the higher, and revenge his fall:
The dead can only do no harm.—

Mal.
Yes, he shall Dye; but we that point must manage,
And wisely throw the Odium on the King,
He must perform, what we our selves desire
Meroan.

Mero.
My Lord.

Mal.
Have you the Largess to the Soldiers given?

Mer.
I have my Lord.

Mal.
And how did they receive it?

Mer.
With all the sense of Gratitude;
They Vow their Lives and Honour
Devoted to your Service.

Mal.
All things Concur, my Friend, to raise our hopes;
The Prince remov'd, the King defenceless stands,
Beset with Foes, and destitute of Friends:
On Rodomonds Virtue all his Power is built;
That Basis sap'd, the tott'ring fabrick falls.

Alb.
The Legions here in Town are ours;
And if the Army, who the Prince Adore,
Shou'd meditate Revenge, a Sum of Gold
Dispers'd among them will their Fury cool:
That Mercenary wretch who Fights for Gold,
With Gold will be Corrupted.
But see the King! you must contrive
To feed his Fury with new fuel.

Enter King, Gonz. Roder, &c.
King.
He dies, by Heav'n he dies, Gonzalvo;
Ungrateful Rodomond shall die:
And could he Hidra like receive again,
Each several day, a several Fate should give.

Gonz.
O, Sir, let not your Fury thus transport
That Godlike Mind to Violent Extreams;
Our Passions always fatal Council give;
Through their fallacious Glass our Wrongs appear
Still greater than they are.

King.
Reject my Daughter, and Invade my Love!
What can he add to such a wrong? My Love
Is sacred as my Crown; and he who dares
To Rival me in one, will make no scruple
To Invade the other.

Gonz.
His Soul abhors the Thoughts of such a Crime.
Remember, Sir, his Virtue and your Love,
That fond Paternal Love you always shew'd,
Which he with Filial Piety return'd;
Shou'd now your Rage this hasty Sentence give,
You wou'd repent th'irrevocable blow.

Mal.
Besides, the Loss which wou'd his Death attend:
His recent Triumphs on the Banks of Po
Have so indear'd him to the Soldiers Hearts,
Seditious Spirits may their Rage incite
To Mutiny and Revenge.

King.
'Tis fitter for that Reason he shou'd die,
Thou mak'st my Justice necessary, Malespine;
He who by Dying can disturb my Peace,
May, Living, shake my Throne: But I
Contemn those little Fears. O Gonzalvo,
Thou know'st I Lov'd, and fain wou'd Love him still,
'Tis Rodomond only, Rodomond can save,
Go thou Gonzalvo, and use all thy Art
To bring his Passion down to Reason's Lure;
If thou succeed not, I will try my self
For once, I'll strive to bend this stubborn Man
Let him resign Armida, and he Lives:
Accept Cimene, and he Reigns. O Malespine!
[Exit Gonz.
How vain is Empire, and how useless Power,
Which cannot purchase one poor Virgins Heart?

Mal.
'Tis not your want of Power, but of Will:
Exert the King, and who'll resist the Lover?
Tho' seeming Coy, few women will complain
Of grateful Force, that lifts them to a Throne.

King.
I wou'd not Plunder, Malespine, but Conquer;
The Rape destroys the pleasure of Fruition;
I wou'd be Happy, or I wou'd be Cur'd:
They say, that Musick has resistless Charms,
To Quell the Tumults of an Anxious Breast.
If Sounds can heal the poysonous Insects Bite,
Why not the Sting of Love? For Love is sure
One kind of Poyson: Sound, Sound all
Our Instruments of War, with Vocal Air
Sonorous Mettal fill, whose sprightly breath
New Life imparts and warms the Cowards Blood.
Martial Loud Musick Plays, the King Listens.
Higher, yet higher; raise th'Extatick Sound,
With all, the Symphony of Martial Notes,
Such, such as in the Field of Battle
Proclaim'd our Triumphs when the Lombard fell.
Martial Musick still Plays, the King stands List'ning.
It works! it works! the Dancing Spirits rise,
Soft Love retires, and Furies seize my Breast;
Bring forth the Warlike Steed, my shining Arms,
I will revenge my Quarrel on Mankind,
And Nations Drown'd in Seas of Blood,
Armida's Cruelty shall Rue.
Arm. and Cim. appears at the other end of the Garden, Crossing the Stage.
See there she goes, how weak is human force,
In Competition with her Eyes? Cease, Cease
Those Harsh, and Ill Concording Sounds, which Arm
With Steel the Heart, and make us Deaf to Nature,
Sink, sink to gentle and melodious strains,
Soft as the Passions of my melting soul,
And warm as new desire.
[Soft Musick Plays, the King listens.
I will pursue her.

Roder.
Stay Royal Almenick, stay, or you are lost;
Wou'd you be safe, fly from the Victors Eyes:
When with our Passions we make Noble War,
'Tis Glorious to Retreat, and Victory to Fly.

King.
I wou'd be sav'd; but by Armida's Smiles.
The Merchant Stranded, and his Fortune's Lost,
Fix'd on the Floating Mast each God implores,
With longing Eyes the distant Mountains views,
And Vows he'll never trust the Ocean more:
But when escap'd, all his Resolves are vain.
Thus I, relapsing, re-assume my Chain,
Forget my Danger, and Renew the Pain.

[Exit.
Manent Mal. Alb. Mer.
Mal.
That Qualm of Virtue frightned me, Albazar,
But see, he swallows all the Bait again,
And Running to his Fate prevents my Guilt:
Thus Men are always ruin'd by themselves,
And falsly call the Stars, or Heav'n unkind,
When all Contribute to the Ills they find.

[Exeunt omnes.