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1

ACT I.

SCENE, A Chamber of State.
Enter Chamberlain, Bilarmo, Mordivan, Ornuo.
BILARMO.
Bless'd be this great! this kind Auspicious Day
Which lights our Valiant Prince victorious Home!
The Brave! the Just! the Conquering Theodorus!
His Subjects (in whose Hearts he sits enthron'd)
With eager Joy wish for his safe Return,
And think the Sun moves slow.

Cham.
Th'Express inform'd us he'd be here
By Three this Afternoon. The long expected Hour
Is near—I hope the Masque is ready.

Bilar.
I just now saw it practis'd:
Their Habits all are on, they only wait
His Highness's Arrival.


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Mordi.
Cou'd there no nobler Way be found for his Reception?
He who has done such brave Exploits abroad,
And from his Country been with-held so long,
You welcome Home with Musick and a Song.

Cham.
Last Night, soon as we heard the happy News,
Did not the Streets blaze with continual Fires,
And ev'ry Conduit teem with richest Wines?
Did not the shouting People and the Bells
Vie with the deaf'ning Clamour of the Guns,
Which first shou'd tell to Heav'n the gen'ral Joy?
So vast a Confluence are gone forth to meet him,
The Town's almost a Desart.
The Gardens, Fields, and Meadows, are stripp'd bare,
To strew with Flow'rs his bright triumphant Way.
And must the Court alone want Ornament?
Musick's harmonious, sweet, and soft'ning Sound
Revives the weary'd Spirits after Toil,
And breathes a kind of Balm into the Soul.

Mordi.
All that Praise can say is short of his Desert.—
But tell me, Ornuo, how has he 'mploy'd his Time
This tedious Absence? Tho' the Dutchess govern'd
Saint-like and well, why did he stay so long
From Subjects that so oft (but still in vain)
Petition'd his Return?

Ornuo.
To come the better skill'd in ruling Home,
So that Way to reward the Love they bear him.
His Age was, when he took his Leave of Moscow,
Eighteen, or more; and, for his Time, ev'n then
In Wit and Prudence he had scarce an Equal.
Six Years he spent at Elvernoy in Study,
And in those Exercises fit for Princes,
In War to vanquish, and in Peace to govern.
Thence did he travel privately, with some
Few faithful Friends, thro' the European States:
Before 'twas Books, then he read Men and Manners,
In which Employments six Years more were spent.

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About that Time you know (taking th'Advantage
Of his long Absence) this last War broke out
Between us and the Tartars: How he fought
And what he gain'd, not only our own Moscovy,
But Europe knows, and crowns with Praise and Honour.
Six other Years this War detain'd him from you,
For he was still oblig'd to guard the Frontiers,
Our chief Commander, and in seven set Battels
He did at last reduce 'em. Thus you know
His Story, but He's never to be known;
His Courage, Conduct, Justice, Clemency,
Patience and Truth, exceeding all Example.

Bilar.
The War, indeed, we grant he cou'd not leave;
But there, before, were other secret Reasons
That lengthen'd out his Absence to that Time;
He'd else come back long e're the War began.

Ornuo.
'Tis true there were, and tho' by some Men thought
Meer Superstition, as indeed it proves,
Yet it was wond'rous strange.
Something, he knew not what (for he wou'd say
'Twas unaccountable) made him believe
Almost as soon as he first left the Court,
He shou'd be most unhappy, if he e'er
Went back to Moscow while the Dutchess liv'd.
Whenever he prepar'd to take the Journey
(As sometimes our Persuasions wou'd prevail
Above his Fears) in Dreams 'twas threaten'd still
A dreadful Fate attended his Return;
So strong th'Impulses were, he thought at last
He was divinely warn'd, and did resolve
To stay. This made him, when petition'd back,
Still find out new Delays.—But see th'Event,
And what small Heed ought to such Fears be lent;
His Mother still is living, and he's come
With Honour, Safety, Peace and Triumph Home!


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Enter Torza.
Torza.
My Lord, the Dutchess bid me send you to her:
Amidst this gen'ral Joy she's discompos'd,
A gloomy Sadness has o'ercast her Mind,
Which she endeav'ring to conceal
Makes but the more conspicuous.

Cham.
'Tis strange, at such a Time,
Her Son return'd with Victory and Glory:
But I'll attend her.
[Exit Cham.

Mordi.
Nor must I be wanting—
But see! sad Seraphana does appear,
The virtuous, but the melancholy Fair.
For many Years sh' has stood a Prince's Suit,
Strange! Love in so much Time shou'd bear no Fruit!
What End is there of the true Lovers Cares?
Or what Reward?—She loves, yet he despairs.

[Exit Bil. Mor. Orn.]
[As they go off,]
Enter, on the other Side, Seraphana.
Seraph.
He comes! O Torza! how shall I receive him?
Shame and Confusion seizes me all o'er!
Yet why, since I am guiltless, shou'd I fear?
Curse on the Time I first disclos'd the Secret:
Had I kept close his wild Solicitations,
I'd been, long since, possess'd of all my Wishes.
Methinks, tho' 'tis so many Years ago,
I have his Words as fresh in my Remembrance
As they were spoke to Day.—O Seraphana!
Adieu, he cry'd, thou softest of thy Sex!
What wou'd I give for such another Moment!
Last Night! O Rapture not to be exprest!

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'Twas well thou didst not speak! thy charming Voice,
Thy Language, join'd with the impetuous Joy,
Had over-power'd my Soul! Then press'd my Hand,
And whisper'd in my Ear—I shall return!
'Till then I'll wear thy Mem'ry in my Soul,
And, for thy Sake, more than for Pow'r or Empire,
Pray to come back in Safety.
I all the while astonish'd, sham'd, perplex'd,
Stood, like a Statue, motionless and mute;
I strove to speak, but Fate had ty'd my Tongue,
In which Surprize, fearing to be observ'd,
He left me.

Torza.
And you never since heard from him?

Seraph.
No,
Nor durst I trust the Secret to a Letter.

Torza.
The Time is come, perhaps this very Day,
That may resolve the Riddle.
But shou'd the Fault lye there where you imagine,
'Twere dreadful.

Seraph.
No, it can't be that Way neither;
Yet I've been tempted oft to give it Credit:
For when I saw her next, a conscious Red
Stain'd all her Face, nor wou'd she speak a Word,
But left me much disturb'd and discompos'd.

Torza.
Did you not wait in the next Room?

Seraph.
I did,
But heard no Syllable of what was threatn'd;
All was still, hush, and silent. But what most
Surpriz'd me, was, to find the Duke, next Morning,
Taking his Leave of me with so much Rapture.

Torza.
'Twas strange indeed!
But since you know y' are innocent of all
That the mistaken Duke suggested to you,
Why has the Prince Berino's Happiness
And yours been thus delay'd?

Seraph.
How can I dare to take him to my Arms
Before the Duke his Nephew's undeceiv'd?

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At his Return, what wou'd he think to see
Her made his Aunt whom he believes he has
Himself enjoy'd?—No, I'll my Truth approve,
Tho', ev'n at best, unworthy of Berino's Love.

Torza.
No more, he's here.

Enter Berino.
Beri.
Still Seraphana, still I follow thee,
Just as we do our Shadows;
At the same Distance you flit on before me,
And like that, too, are ne'er to be o'ertaken.
Is the long Day at last arriv'd, to give
Hope or Despair? Say, must I die or live?

Seraph.
O my lov'd Lord! my first and only Hope!
Thou kindest, best—

Beri.
This is thy Language still,
The Siren's Song that leads me heedless on,
And makes Destruction pleasing!
Suppose, thou kindly cruel—
Suppose a Soul shou'd be took up to Heav'n
To see and hear, but hopeless e'er to enter,
The Favour wou'd but double his Despair.
Thus hast thou fed me with delicious Sounds,
While I am still but where I was at first,
And lost my Youth in idle Expectation.

Seraph.
I've lost mine too:
I shall come to thy Arms lean, wither'd, wan,
The Ghost of what I was when first I knew you.

Beri.
Well, granting that (tho' yet, I must confess, y'are soft and fair,
So diff'rent from thy early fading Sex
Ev'n thy Decline exceeds their Spring of Beauty.)
But granting what you say is true, it proves your Love
Is false; while thus the Sweets of Youth you waste.

Seraph.
O no, my Lord, you shall hereafter find—

Beri.
That Charm is at an End, no more Hereafters:

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By Heav'n I now will know the very Hour.
Lean, wan and wither'd once may be thy Doom,
But I'll enjoy thee e're the Tyrant's come.

Seraph.
Be not impatient: You shall soon (if I
Can make you so) be happy.

Beri.
Witness ye holy Pow'rs! Impatient, say you?
That have so long been waiting for the Blessing?
Others by Weeks and Days recount their Cares;
I am the first that ever lov'd by Years.

Seraph.
I never knew him yet so very earnest.

[Aside to Torza.
Torza.
You must not trifle; your Design is ripe,
And you may fix the Time.

Beri.
—Name, name the Hour!

Seraph.
To Morrow then—if then you think me worthy.

Beri.
Then and for ever!—O thou beauteous Mine
Of everlasting Sweetness! grow! grow here
Thou Perfume of Arabia! near my Heart!
As rich a Vein of Truth, as thine's of Virtue!
O cou'd I think (tho' Musick in thy Voice
Does dwell) that e'er the Sound of Words,
Cou'd charm so much? To Morrow! O to Morrow!

Seraph.
His Transport fires me too! I feel the Warmth
Run shooting thro' my Veins!—
[Aside.
O Prince! here on your Breast I hide my Blushes.

Torza.
The Dutchess, Madam.

Seraph.
Ha!

Beri.
Unkindly done
To interrupt this Parley of our Souls.
Who are those Strangers with her?

Torza.
The wealthy Mirabella and her Daughter,
An Heiress that's but lately come to Court,
Admir'd for Beauty, but more fam'd for Virtue;
The Dutchess does design her for Lord Agnon,
Who brought the first News of the Duke's Arrival,
And is most honour'd by him.


8

Beri.
I've heard of her.

Torza.
You, Madam, must resign your Place: She now
Is Favourite in chief: The Dutchess
Loves her beyond all Expression!

Enter Dutchess, Mirabella, Adorissa, Agnon, Chamberlain, Mordivan, Bilarmo, Courtiers, Attendants.
Dutch.
Then all's prepar'd?

Cham.
Just as your Highness order'd.
The Court, like Paradise, is all in Smiles,
The Blessing not more gen'ral than the Joy.

[Shouting within.
Dutch.
These Shouts proclaim him near. Go you, my Lord,
And from the Palace-Gate conduct him on,
For I'll receive him here.
[Exit Cham.
Be still my Soul!
[Aside.
O turn the Prospective, and shew my Crimes
In a less frightful Form!
Is there no Way for Minds diseas'd, to learn
The Myst'ry of forgetting?
O for a Draught of Lethe, a deep Draught,
That all the swarming Images of Thought
May quit my Brain! and soft Oblivion's Hand
Annihilate my Sorrow! 'Twill not be:
[Aside.
There is a Fury here,
That gnaws on my Remembrance, poisons Joy,
And makes my present Woe almost as bad
As that I fear hereafter.

Ador.
Your Grace is thoughtful.

Dutch.
I am, my Love, my darling Adorissa.
Pleasure does more than Grief oppress the Spirits;
But when I've seen my Son, I shall recover.
Now I'm borne upon a Spring-Tide of Joy,
But soon 'twill sink, and keep within its Channel.

[Trumpets.

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Mira.
The Trumpets sound: He's ent'ring.

Dutch.
Bear up my stagg'ring Spirits.—Adorissa,
[Aside.
Do you retire; and you, too, Madam, with her,
Go to my Closet, and I'll streight be with you.

Ador.
Ha! 'tis as I cou'd wish—yet my Heart heaves,
And yearns to have a View!—
I'll take my Time to see him, when alone,
Here my fond Eyes wou'd make the Secret known.

[Aside.
[Exit Mira. Ador. following.
Dutch.
Agnon, you follow, say 'twas I that sent you;
And make your Court to the young beauteous Lady.
I have propos'd the Match to Mirabella,
And she so readily gave her Consent,
You need not fear her Daughter's.

Agnon.
I humbly thank your Highness.
The chiefest Study of my Life shall be
How to deserve this Honour.
[Exit Agnon.

Dutch.
He comes! he's here!
The Joy, and Oh! the Anguish of my Soul.
Enter Duke, Chamberlain, Ornuo, Officers, Guards, Attendants.
My Son! my dear Theodorus! welcome! welcome!

Duke.
I am rewarded now for all my Toils,
[Kneels.
Heats, Colds, Distresses, Absence, Travel, War,
Only by kneeling here to beg your Blessing.

Dutch.
My Pray'rs are heard, you are return'd in Safety!
[Raising him.
I have a thousand Things to say, and each
Wou'd be the first, abortive in their Haste,
They all are lost in Wonder and in Joy!

Beri.
Welcome, my Royal Nephew,
Welcome as the Peace you've brought to Moscovy.

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The Father of your Country! you have rais'd
A sinking State to Plenty, Wealth, and Empire.

Duke.
I take your Welcome, but return the Praise
To you, who more deserve it: You have purchas'd
A lasting Name in War;
Yet I must blame you, Uncle, for your Absence
The last Campaign; at that decisive Blow
Your Conduct had done Wonders.

Beri.
'Tis only Love, that is too hard for Duty,
And slacks the Nerves of Honour.
This cruel Fair laid her Injunctions on me,
And, before her, I'm sure you'll take th'Excuse.
To-morrow she resigns the Reins of Pow'r
Into my Hands, and makes me chief Commander.
Your Highness haply comes to grace the Nuptials.

Duke.
Ha! Seraphana! What is't makes me tremble?
A sudden Horror strikes upon my Soul!
Lovely as ever! all things else are chang'd;
Her Face is still the same! Time has gone on,
And left no print behind!—But 'twas a Fault;
And tho' my Youth might half excuse the Error,
Witness ye Pow'rs, I from my Soul repent,
And here implore your Pardon.

[Aside.
Dutch.
Ornuo.

Ornuo.
Madam.

[They discourse apart.
Duke.
I must break off this Match; it shall not be:
'Twill be like Incest, if 'tis not the same;
The worst of Crimes, and farthest mov'd from Mercy.
[Aside.
Then you have nam'd To-morrow?

Beri.
She has! and O ye kindly Hours be swift!
Once the Sun stood, and once he gallop'd back;
Now let the Miracle contract the Time,
And the Degrees go forward.

Duke.
He is fix'd;
And 'tis not now a time to mention more:
Say, that I marry'd her my self, and let

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Him know the Truth; I that way shou'd repair
Her violated Honour.—But can that
Be answer'd to Discretion?—Very meanly.
Beside, the Vows made to the beauteous Lady
I lately saw at Edrimont forbid me:
She governs, nay she tyranizes here—
Yet I shou'd speak to this forsaken Fair.

[Aside.
Seraph.
He moves this Way; and now, methinks, my Fears
Are lesser than they were.

[Aside.
Duke.
You are all Silence, Madam; every Tongue,
But yours, has bid me welcome.

Seraph.
Yet none has greater Cause than mine to do so;
For only your Return cou'd make me happy:
As when I've opportunity, Great Sir,
I'll more at large inform you.

Duke.
Ha! she advances fast, I must retire.
If what is past, ye Powers, meet your Forgiveness,
Henceforth I'll better please you.

[Aside.
Seraph.
So cold! thus had it been, had I consented.

[Aside.
Dutch.
Ornuo, you tell me News; In Love, d'ye say?
And is the Lady nameless?

Ornuo.
Yes, to me;
I never saw her, Madam.

Dutch.
In all his Letters, and, they were not few,
He never spoke one Word of it to me:
But now I'll sound him:—This Discourse, Theodorus,
Puts me in mind of you. What are your Thoughts
Of the late Match the Council and my self
Propos'd to you? (the Princess of Moldavia.)

Duke.
My Pray'rs have been that I may ne'er offend you.
But since there's no Necessity of State,
(Our Allies firm, and Enemies reduc'd)
That I shou'd marry her, I beg of you,

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That I may chuse where Inclination bids me.

Beri.
But, my Lord,
Where the Prince takes a Subject, the advancing
A private Family to sovereign Pow'r
Breeds ill Blood in the rest o'th'Nobles, and
Ambition in all those, who, thus ally'd,
Dream only of a Crown. That Civil War
Has been the Consequence of such rash Marriages,
Some neighbouring States can witness. To be plain,
What Fortune is there to match yours at home?
A Princess oft has Kingdoms for her Dowry.

Duke.
Let her's that I shall marry, be her Virtue.
When that time comes, (and it perhaps is near)
I'll give such Reasons for't, as, nor the Council,
Madam, nor you, shall disapprove.

Dutch.
'Tis well.
Let all be as you please.—Come, Son, a Banquet
Waits you within; and after that, the Court shall
Shew how we rejoyce in your Arrival.

Duke.
Lead on.—Tho' long you did my Absence mourn,
I'll make you full amends by my Return.
For Property shall smile, and Trade increase;
Religion flourish, and Dissension cease;
And all my Life be spent in the soft Arts of Peace.

[Exeunt.
The End of the First ACT.