University of Virginia Library

SCENE LAST.
Gernando, Constantia, Henriques, Sylvia.
Ger.
Here, in these faithful arms,
Receive the bliss thou seek'st.

Cons.
And can it be?

Ger.
Do I not dream?

Cons.
Do I then hold Gernando?

Ger.
Do I embrace my wife, my dear Constantia?

Hen.
These tears, caresses, and imperfect accents
Dissolve my soul in tender sympathy.

Syl.
[goes to Hen.]
Tell me, Henriques, wherefore are you thoughtful?
Gernando sure is kinder far than you:
Mark how with gentle speech he sooths Constantia,
While you, in sullen silence seem to stand,
Without one word for Sylvia.

Hen.
Could I hope
That I were dear to thee—

Syl.
If dear to me?
Yes, dearer than my fawn.

[joyful and tenderly.
Hen.
Then give me, fair one,
Thy plighted hand and be Henriques' wife.

Syl.
Your wife! O no, that were indeed a folly:
So might I, left on some far-distant isle,
Drag on my days in mournful solitude.

Cons.
No, Sylvia, my Gernando left me not;
Thou shalt know all. Men are not, as I said,
Faithless and cruel.

Syl.
When I knew Henriques,
I thought not so.

Cons.
Unjustly I accus'd them,
But now, convinc'd, retract my former error.

Syl.
And I retract whate'er I said before.

[gives her hand to Hen.
Chorus.
When lowering clouds the skies o'er-spread,
Let Hope exalt her cheerful head,
And all the threats of Fate despise.
Fortune shall give her malice o'er,
And Constancy's triumphant power
At length above her sufferings rise.