University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE, The Inside of the Enchanted Palace.
Enter Phenissa, Nisroe, Rinaldo Sleeping on a Couch.
Phen.
Ssleeps he Secure? And is the Queen Obey'd?
Tho' here's a Magick Symphony might Lull,
The raving Furies into soft Repose,

Nis.
There he lies Buried in eternal Sleep,
Unless my self or some more pow'rful Spirit
Unbind and Rowze him from his Iron Slumber.
Thrice while I mutter'd Mystick Sounds I sprinkled
His Temples with the Drowsie Deadly Dew,
Brush'd by th'Infernal Ravens Baleful Wing
From the Black Poppies which on Lethe grow.
How Fares Armida?

Phen.
She dotes, alas, she dotes on this Rinaldo,
Her Love, and Fear of losing what she Loves
Disquiet her sometimes almost to Madness,
Thow know'st the greatness of her Soul; from whence
Conclude how this Tempestuous Flame must Shake her;
Alas, I pitty her.

Nis.
I cannot blame thee.
Ev'n I, who for these long Six thousand Years
Have never felt one motion like Remorse,
I, were I not a Devil, I should Pitty her;
The Fairest Creature which on this side Heav'n
My Eyes have ere beheld.

Phen.
Say, what Success attends this desperate Love?

Nis.
Alas, I dare not; for Remember Ramiel,
Who but for barely Hinting at her Fate,
Lyes Howling at the Bottom of th'Abyss,
Under the Vengeance of that Dreadful God,
Who makes ev'n Furies tremble;
Scourg'd till at each resounding Stroke
He Bellows to the Blow:
While all around, the poor tormented Ghosts,
Gastfully staring with their Balefull Eyes,
Cease their shrill Cryes, and their lamenting Wails;
All with Amazement hush'd, and as they Listen,
Shuddring with Horrour at his Hideous roar,
Yet what I dare I'll tell thee.
Fame, that with Indefatigable Wings
Born thro' the boundless Regions of the Air,
Incessantly Surveys this Globe of Earth,
Once in the Course of the revolving Year,
Stoops at these Isles of Fortune, the Abodes
Of happy Heroes, separated Souls,
To visit her Adopted Sons, all Demy-Gods,
Who undisturb'd in these Elysian Shades,
Pursue Immortal Pleasures. If he shrinks not
When next the Goddess comes, He's ours for ever.

Phen.
When arrives she?

Nis.
I dare no more, but tis thy part to try
To Cure Armida of this raging Passion.

Phen.
Nay, then thou sayst Enough; Alas I have,
Thou know'st it is my Interest more than Hers;
Rinaldo is a Christian,
And wins each Moment on Armida's Soul,
Who knows how far at last He may prevail?
If he should once Seduce her from her Faith,
What could be so Abandon'd as Phenissa.
It is my daily Study to Reclaim her.
A Thousand times in vain I have attempted it.

Nis.
Once more attempt it, then if thou Succeed'st not,
Lull her with Hope, true Woes are to Succeed,
Let her enjoy false Pleasures while she may.
But she appears, I vanish.

sinks.
Enter Armida.
Arm.
Phenessa, sleeps Rinaldo?

Phen.
He does.
Why were you absent at the Magick Rites?

Arm.
I hate this cursed Art since first it show'd me
That, that to which the hardest things are possible,
Yet wants the pow'r to calm my rageing Grief;
All Nature lies subjected to my Charms,
I give her Rest, and Rowze her with Alarms,
My Arbitrary voice she hears with awe,
And standing fix'd suspends th'eternal Law.
I to the Tempest make the Poles Resound,
And the conflicting Elements Confound;
At my Command
The Thunder rushes out on flaming Wings,
And all the hollow deep of Hell
With hideous Uproar Rings;
Fierce Spirits who great Heaven's command disdain'd,
Submit themselves and are by mine restrain'd.
The Wildest things are by my pow'r Confin'd:
All but my Wild ungovernable Mind.
But I have home-bred Furies which Rebel,
While I subdue the fiercest Pow'rs of Hell.
Oh, my foreboding Soul!

Phen.
Compose your self, Consider you'r a Queen.

Arm,
Consider I'm a Slave, Consider I'm a Lover.

Phen.
No Common Queen, they Rule but Common Slaves;
You Govern with a Nod all Asia's Monarchs.

Arm.
Effeminate, Slothful, Lukewarm Creatures all,
Whose Souls were but half kindled by their Maker.

Phen.
Then what they want from Heav'n they have from you;
Your Eyes have Blown those Souls into a Flame.

Arm.
Those Kings I scorn'd before, I knew my Heroe;
What are those Royal Pageants? Thou hast seen them,
And what is my Rinaldo? Thou hast gaz'd on him.

Phen.
The greatest of Mankind, since to this Height
The great Armida by her Favours Rais'd him;
Before, the last of the Italian Princes.

Arm.
But the first of Conquerours.

Phen.
A private Man, without Command in th'Army.

Arm.
Fortune, and Fame, and Victory obey'd him,
Him, the Sole pow'r of that Victorious Army.
Who was the Terrour of the East, but He!
This private Man made all your Monarchs Tremble,
Ev'n in the midst of their own shivering Slaves,
To whom they ow'd their Pow'r and their Security.
His Pow'r was in himself, His dauntless Soul,
And his unconquered own Right Hand his Safety.
What? tho' he Rules no Empire, he deserves One,
And has both Conquered and Rejected Crowns:
He in his Inborn Worth is more Exalted.
No drowsie Monarch by a Dull Descent,
But for his High Desert preferr'd by Heav'n,
And singled from the rest of Human kind,
To Execute the vast Designs of Fate.

Phen.
The Theme transports you.

Arm.
Tis my Love Transports me.

Phen,
Tis frankly own'd,
For such a Proud, Severe, disdainful Beauty.

Arm.
Yes, I am Proud that I my self have Excellence,
To Know and Love such Merit; Surely Love
In this Excess has something that's Divine;
Women who Dote on Monsters ev'n to Madness,
Are proud of their own Fury. What must I be,
When the consenting World admires my Choice!
Thou, whose cold Mass runs Curdling thro thy Veins,
Thou gazest on Rinaldo with Desire;
Yet thou hast only seen the God of Love,
In the fresh Beauries of my Blooming Heroe:
Oh, even in thee, what Raptures had he Raised!
Hadst thou once seen him like the God of War,
While Grizly Terrour perch'd upon his plume;
Severely shining in his dreadful Helmet,
And Thundring through the Tempest of the Field.

Phen.
Well! tho you Love with fury, you possess;
Since then the God of Love has made you Blest,
Why should you toil to make your self unhappy?

Arm.
Once more, I tell thee, Love has taught me fear.

Phen.
Fear! Fear of what?

Arm.
The Torments which the Souls in Hell endure;
Nay worse, those Suols have only miss'd of Heaven,
But to have lost it, that's the Plague of Divels.

Phen.
You seek those groundless fears.

Arm.
Ah no!
Hell threatned me with fate by Ramiel's voice,
And Heaven by these Foreboding thoughts fortells it;
And, what is more than Heav'n or Hell to me,
Rinaldo has confirm'd it.

Phen.
'Tis but an Hour since he declared He Lov'd you.

Arm.
But with such Accents and such Eyes declar'd it,
His very Anger had been less provoking;
Can one who Loves with such a Soul as mine,
Be Tortur'd worse than with endearing Words,
Spoke with the Coldness of that cruel Air?

Phen.
But how should Nature bear perpetual Rapture,
When she quite sinks in Momentary transports?
Sometimes He meets your Love with equal Fury.

Arm.
If he did not, he would be less then Man,
This Desart Isle divides us from the World,
Where He, and I, and Thou, are Human kind:
He lov'd me not in Palestine, where I
Seduc'd the very Flower of Godfrey's Army,
Subdued their inmost Souls by my soft Arts;
And led them from the Army thro the East
In Amorous Pomp, the common Foes of Asia,
And Victims to my Unkles great Revenge,
Only Rinaldo's Soul remain'd Impregnable;
A fiercer Flame than that of Love had seis'd it,
And his Eyes sparkled with severer fires;
The Love of Glory reign'd sole Tyrant there,
Which in great Souls still rages to a fault,
The Crime of Angels, and of Men like Angels;
Who conscious to their own surpassing Excellence,
Would by great Actions force the Envious World
T'acknowledge their Transcendency of Nature.

Phen.
But still the Ambitious love, as well as others;
Nature makes use of Love in Mighty Minds,
Who else would be aspiring to be Gods,
To shew them they are Men.

Arm.
Yes, they can Love, but think that Love their Frailty,
And not their Virtue;
And when that Love comes once t'obstruct Ambition,
With all their might they make a vast Effort,
And tear it from their Souls.

Phen.
The knowing this,
One would have thought, might have secur'd your Heart.

Arm.
This made me Doat on him, and as he slept
Transport him on a Storm's sonorous Wings,
Far from the War, and the shrill Trumpet's sound,
To this sweet Place design'd for Love and Joy.
Yet ev'n here, where Earth and Heav'n, nay Hell
Conspires t'Indulge the sweetest of all Passions;
Where ev'n I, for whom a Thousand Lovers
Have sigh'd, and sigh'd in vain, with all that's soft
And delicate in Love descend t'incite Him,
Ev'n here he has but Intervals of Passion;
'Tis true those Intervals are Furious All,
For He in ev'ry thing is more than Mortal:
But then anon, ev'n in my very Arms,
My Eager Arms, he languishes for Glory:
He meditates profound, and fetches sighs,
Which, while He vainly struggles to repress,
With terrible Revulsions shake his Soul:
With Eyes upon me fix'd He sees me not,
And gazing upon his, I find him absent.
Oft in his Sleep he takes Convulsive Starts,
And cryes, to Arms, Hark, Hark, the Trumpet sounds,
And Glory calls to Arms; I come, I fly,
Thou Darling of my Soul, thou Mistress ev'n of Gods!
Then with the fury of the Transport Waking,
He fetches sighs that shake his Inmost Soul.

Phen.
Well, since Ambition Rules in all great Souls,
Shake off this softer Rage.

Arm.
I want the very Will to shake it off,
Ambition rules in Men, but Love prevails in Women;
Had Heav'n, that gave us such attractive Grace,
Not Temper'd our unruly Souls with Love,
We had been more dangerous to Men than Devils:
Phenissa, I am a Woman.

Phen.
But no Vulgar Woman.

Arm.
No, nor is mine a Vulgar Passion,
I bear a Mind no Stranger to Ambition,
But still my Love prevails above my Pride.
Oh, let me never know Indifference more;
I never can, nor will be calm again;
For who could live indifferent as to Heav'n,
That had but known the vast delight of Gods,
And had a taste of Immortality?

Phen.
'Tis the meer Feaver of your mind that talks thus,
For Love is nothing else.

Arm.
Thou rail'st at Love as Fiends blaspheme their God,
Because He has abandon'd thee for ever.

Phen.
My Years will bring my Sentiments to you.

Arm.
Oh never, never let me see those years,
The Soul, that sparkle of Celestial Fire,
The longer it has lain immerst in Matter
The colder feels its sense of Heav'n and Love,
The great Originals from which it sprung.

Phen.
Reason requires that you should rule this Passion.

Arm.
Talk not of Reason, what, but Love, is Reason?
For, what, but Love, is Happiness?
Love first appears with Reason in the Soul,
And by degrees with Reason it decays.
But cease, forbear thy foolish ill-tim'd Counsel,
With silent awe attend my Potent Charm.
And thou, O Air, that murmur'st on the Mountain,
Be hush'd at my Command, Silence ye Winds,
That make outrageous War upon the Ocean;
And thou, old Ocean, lull thy wond'ring Waves;
Ye Warring Elements be hush'd as Death,
While I impose my Dread Commands on Hell;
And thou profoundest Hell, whose dreadful sway
Is given to me, by Fate and Demogorgon,
Hear, hear, my powerful Voice thro all thy Regions!
By Demogorgon, I Command thee, Hear!
And from thy gloomy Caverns thunder thy Reply.
Subterranean Thunder.
I am obey'd—
Now send up Dreams that may be fittest found
T'impose upon Rinaldo's slumbring thoughts,
And to enslave his Soul.

Spirits or Dreams arise in the shapes of Bertoldo and Sophia, Parents to Rinaldo; and of some that Rinaldo had slain in Battel.
Bert.
Rinaldo!

Soph.
Rinaldo!

Bert.
Look up, Behold the Mournfull Shade
Of him who gave thee Breath,
Who steps to see thee, while thou'rt laid
Upon the Confines here of Death;
T'inform thee of thy future State,
And, e're yet it be too late,
To prevent thy wretched Fate.

Soph.
Look up my Son, Look up on me,
In me th'Aflicted Sophia see.
Ah Son! not all the grinding throws,
With which, when thou wert born,
My Tortur'd Nerves were torn,
Equall'd half the wracking woes,
Which now thy Mother undergoes,
Thou Darling of my Soul, for thee.

Bert.
Last night I cast a Look
Upon Fates dreadful Book,
And read a Lesson which no Brain
That is Mortal can Sustain,
While all my Soul with Horrour shook.

Soph.
Oh! the distraction of the sight
And Oh! the Torments of the fright
I never, never shall forget that Night.

Bert.
Rowze all thy Faculties my Son,
And to my Fatal words give ear,
For know that they concern thee near;
No longer let thy Fancy run
After that Aiery Fantom Fame;
But Love Armida with a constant Flame:
Or Destiny decrees,
Thou shalt feel woes, which but to hear
Would distract thy Soul with fear,
And all thy Blood with Horrour freeze,

Soph.
Ah! see around the Raving Hosts
Of purple Ghosts;
Whose Blood thou hast in Battle spilt,
With fearful Guilt.
Who, unless aw'd by her Commanding Pow'r,
Would, ah, this Moment, tear thee and devour!

Bert.
How they advance with whirling Brands,
Dance begins.
All flaming in their threatning Hands!
And as they go their dreadful Round,
Revenge, Revenge Resound!

Chorus of Spirits.
For Revenge, for Revenge, to Armida we call,
That we terribly may on our Murderer fall;
That as now we with Sulphurous Torches surround him,
We with our Screams and our Scorpions may wound him;
And with astonishing Horrors confound him.

During the Chorus a Dance of Spirits.
Armida.
By Heav'n Rinaldo smiles at all their Threats,
And slumb'ring scorns this terrible appearance.
Confusion and Amazement! What do I hear?
Fame's Trumpet.
What Trumpets, this whose great and Martial sound
Makes the World Eccho to its Musick?
Ha! Disappear'd! All vanish'd on the sudden!
Spirits vanish.
Gone undismiss'd! The Charm not yet unbound!
Ho! Arice! Hear, and know my awful Voice,
At my Command appear again I Charge thee,
Or else be Banish'd from my sight for ever.
Arice half rising.
O Queen, to whom thy Excellence of Nature,
And thy Transcendent Beauty gives Command
O're all th'Infernal Powers, for in thy Brightness
We see what once we were in our High Stations,
And some Reflected Beams enjoy
Of that supreamly Blissful Vision,
From whose Enjoyment our aspiring Minds
Have banish'd us for ever.
Excuse thy Slaves unable to obey thee,
For know a greater Power now drives us hence,
One of the Brightest of th'Empyreal Mansions
Expels us with a Stream of Light
That sets this Atmosphere on fire,
And with its Blaze insufferably Bright
Confounds Hell's Gloomy Powers;
Summmon th'Aerial Spirits to thy Aid,
For they who pois'd upon expanded Wings,
Like Basking in the Sun's Meridian Glory,
Are fitter to sustain Heav'ns flaming Ministers
Than we who sojourn in the Dusky Deep;
And they, perhaps too, with Enchanting Voices,
To Pleasure may seduce Rinaldo's Soul.
Pleasure thou know'st can tame that Dauntless Soul,
Which thou no more by Terrours can'st subdue,
Than fright the Dreadful God who darts the Thunder.
But, Oh, dismiss me, for I can no more,
A Deluge of Empyreal Light o'rewhelms me.

Arm.
Begone then, and for Ease to Hell repair.
Vanishes.
But see Rinaldo wakens, Oh! Astonishment,
How ev'ry thing I see and hear confounds me,
And shews a Power above my own controuls me,
Let us retire, and then unseen observe him,
I from himself my Destiny would learn.

Rinaldo rises from the Couch, Armida and Phenissa retire to the side of the Stage.
Rin.
Me-thought the Trumpet's noble Sound
Alarm'd me to the Combat,
Was it Illusion that, or was it real?
Let it be what it will, it gives thee Cause
To ask thy self this Question, what thou wert,
And what thou art at Present? O Rinaldo,
Heav'n gave thee Reason for thy Guide of action,
But that's a Lamp set up in ev'ry Breast.
Heav'n gave thee yet a more exalted Spirit
Which reach'd above the frail Efforts of Reason;
For Reason only teaches Man his Duty:
That raised thy free-born Soul to nobler Heights,
To things Superlatively Great and Good,
Beyond what Reason or what Heav'n Requir'd.
But wher's that Spirit now? That Towring Faculty,
Which mounting Soar'd above Humanity?
Tis now half Quencht by an Ignobler Fire.
Oh base Desertion from my self and glory.

Arm.
Hear this Phenissa, now are my Fears groundless?

Rin.,
Nay thou hast stifled too the very Dictates
Of Common Reason which Mankind Obeys,
And while Ten thousand Slaves before Jerusalem,
Urg'd by their Duty in this very Moment,
To Danger and to Death bid loud Defiance,
Thou Loyter'st here in soft Inglorious Ease.
Perhaps the Fable of the Army, Ha!
Canst thou bear that? Canst thou so much as Think
That thou deserv'st to be Contemn'd and Live?

Arm.
Oh, I am lost, beyond all Hope, Undone?

Rin.
Nay, canst thou bear ev'n this? That thou no more
Deserv'st to be preferr'd above the Rest,
Above the Rest, admir'd? That in this Moment
The Brave Tancredi like Celestial Jove
With Thunder in his Hand distributes Fate,
While Thou—By Heav'n I'd rather be a Dog,
And lead a Brutal Life, without Reflection
Than to be stung with the tormenting Thought
That one who is my fellow Creature
Merits to Command me.
Oh, what's what's become of that aspiring-greatness
That once disdain'd to yield to less then Infinite!
Tis lost, tis to a Womans will Abandon'd.

Phen.
Madam contain your self.

Rin.
Tis true thou lov'st her with that height of Fury,
Which none but her Inimitable Beauties
Cold ever have Inspir'd.

Phen.
Observe him now.

Rin.
But what? The Vulgar can Command small Passions;
Tis for Rinaldo to Controul the Fiercest.
VVhy art thou by Fames Hundred Tongues extoll'd?
Why by her Golden Trump proclaim'd a Heroe,
If thou hast only Brutal force to boast of?
Tis chiefly force of Mind that makes a Heroe.
Then, O thou loveliest of thy Sex, Armida,
Thou only one of all created Beings,
That ere had pow'r to Fire Rinaldo's Heart
Be satisfied with this, that only thou
Had'st pow'r to move his Soul, which for a time
Admir'd thee Equal to eternal Glory.

Fame's Trumpet and Voices.
Rinaldo, in the Enchanted Grove
Prepare to meet immortal Love;
Straight to the Bow'r of Bliss repair,
Fortune nd Fame attend thee there.

Rin.
Again that noble Clangor, and with Voices!
Nay then tis Evident 'tis no Illusion.
Who ere thou art that with those God-like Sounds
Thus raisest all that's pow'rful in my Nature,
This moment in th'enchanted Grove Ile meet thee.
But O Rinaldo whither wert thou fal'n?
Who want'st a call to rouze thee from thy Lethargy,
That might Awake the Dead and make them Start
From their Eternal Slumbers

[Exit.
Arm.
Patience ye Heav'ns, or thou Hell Revenge!
But let us to th'Enchanted Grove Repair,
And thither call the Powr's that Rule the Air;
Yet least the Charms of Pleasure too, should fail,
Hell, let thy gloomy gods their last Efforts prepare,
If Destiny Decrees that after all,
I needs must perish, like my self Ile fall;
I'le fall like one whose Arbitrary Sway,
Th'Aerial and th'Infernal gods obey;
With me the Traytor shall not only Die,
But groaning Nature in Convulsions lie.

Exeunt.