 | Ximenes |  |
SCENE II.
Let me, once more, enfold thee in these arms!
Thy visit to me, here, pains, yet transports me!
For in the worst calamity, the sight
Of those we love, revives the drooping soul!
We cling to them, with hope, and fondly fancy,
That there's some mighty magick in affection,
Which can elude the grasp of tyrant power!
But how hast thou obtained admittance hither?
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By all-persuasive gold;—but in the state,
Or rather, tumult of my present being,
What rude obstruction could have checked my progress?
For I'm resolved to live, or die with Zaigri!
Oh! thy impending fate distracts my brain!
Do I transgress our feminine reserve?
Yet I feel no reproach, no sting, from conscience:
Why should I blush to be in love with virtue?
Zaigri.
Were I not, now, desirous to allay
My strong, and pungent feelings, I should yield
Or to despondency, or wilder passion.
Act thou like Leonora; let those truths,
That still have modelled, still adorned thy life,
Resume their influence, and ensure thy welfare
Against the whirls of fortune.
Leonora.
Gracious Heaven!
And canst thou reason; canst thou be composed?
For me, I'm horrour, all; I'm, all, confusion;
Zaigri, I am resolved not to survive thee.
I've brought a faithful servant to this dungeon,
[She shows a dagger.
On whom I can rely:—if thou must suffer,
This shall let out my soul!—'Twill follow thee;
'Twill flee away from pain, and be at rest!
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My resolution cannot stand this proof.
When thy o'erwhelming violence of grief
With horrour strikes my sight, pervades my fancy,
Of manly action all my practice fails;
And all it's theory dissolves in air.
Why wilt thou make a coward of thy Zaigri?
The taunts, and insults, of the human vulgar,
I could with patience bear: I would not suffer,
Even Penury's chill gripe to freeze my soul.
Perhaps, on the fell rack, or at the stake,
I might prove emulous of some great minds;
And like a hero, tolerate my pain.
But to know thee, who should'st repose, for ever,
On conscious innocence, and deeds benign,
A victim to excruciating woe,
Would give the sharpest instruments of death,
Points of invenomed fire; hurl, from her summit,
Proud reason down; with desolating fury,
Convulse the fixed foundations of existence;
And wrenching nature from her last recesses,
Would drive her round in frenzy! Wilt thou treat me
With more barbarity than Torquemada!
Leonora.
Oh! I did wrong, to aggravate the weight
Of thy calamity!—But I'll be calm.—
Zaigri.
Then wilt thou grant one boon that I shall ask?
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Whatever Zaigri shall request, I'll grant.
Zaigri.
Give me that dagger, gentle Leonora;
It suits but ill thy tender, female arm.
Leonora.
Take it, from my regard for truth, and thee;
But be assured, I give it with reluctance:
For shouldst thou, cruelly, be wrested from me,
It would have proved my best, my only friend.
Zaigri.
My Leonora, from the changeful scenes
That ever pass before us, let us learn
Mild resignation to the will of Heaven.
Why should the darkness of the present hour
Affect the colour of our future days?
That Providence which of vouchsafes to man
Illustrious proofs of it's paternal love,
Can yet, with ease, disperse this thickening gloom;
Restore me to the golden light of freedom;
Bid us live long, and through long life, be happy.
Leonora.
Oh! thou appeaser of my fears, my sorrows,
The tempest of my soul; thy soft persuasion
Soothes me to peace, as Zephyr breathes on ocean,
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I'll moderate my woe; watch o'er myself;
And expiate, to offended Heaven, and thee!
But even this painful interview we're envied;
Unwelcome messengers, I fear, approach us.
[Enter Torquemada, and two Servants of the Inquisition, armed.
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