University of Virginia Library

Scene.—The Castle.
Enter Magdeline and Constance.
Con.
Think better of your lot, my dearest Lady.

Mag.
Oh! Constance! I've already overleap'd
The frightful precipice of Misery:
And all day long have felt increasing swiftness,
Doubling each instant, speed me to the bottom,
Where must be dash'd my ev'ry hope of comfort.

Con.
'Tis now too late.

Mag.
Alas! it is, it is.

Con.
Then make the best of the necessity.

Mag.
Oh! what a comfort that! so Dev'ls themselves
May make the best of their damnation too.

Con.
I fain would comfort if I could, but fear
The evil is by much too deeply rooted.
Is such reluctance to apparent good
Th' effect alone of virgin modesty?
Ah! Magdeline! I dread some prior love
Hath ta'en possession of your tender heart.

Mag.
True Constance, true! I'll tell thee whom I love.

Con.
Nay do not tell—I dread the confidence—
For should Orlando ever know—

Mag.
The love
That Magdeline confesses now, good Constance!
Will neither make her blush, nor bring thee danger.—
Oh Mark! oh Beatrice! why have ye left me?
Why have ye now forsaken me? at last
Giv'n me to Sorrow's chain, when ye so long
Had fed my hopes ye never would consent?
'Twas ye possess'd the love of Magdeline.
Yes Constance! 'twas my father and my mother—
And they have giv'n me up—thyself my Constance
The dreadful sentence brought, the joyless letter,
That robb'd their daughter of her mortal peace:—
And then to urge it in their absence too.

Con.
'Tis hard indeed! but trust me had you seen
The piteous manner of the aged pair,
Your heart had melted in their gratitude.

Mag.
Yet, oh! it shudders at its gloomy prospect:
I never, never can approve Orlando;
For he's so boist'rous, and so little lov'd
Of any, and so little amiable:—
His very kindness seems to me all rage.

Con.
'Tis youth and inexperience that talk thus:
Orlando hath a comeliness and beauty,
That surely might awake within your breast
The riper feelings of impassion'd love.

Mag.
Impassion'd love! alas! I know not passion—
My blood is icicled to all mankind;
And all the love I know is calm and pure.

Con.
Come, come, my Lady! I too am a woman—
You may, demurely if you will, deny
The genial feelings Nature's self matures,
But I know well there's none exempt her law.

Mag.
Now then, Constance! by all the Saints I swear
I know not what thou mean'st.

Con.
Nay, do not swear.—
Why after all then did you give consent?

Mag.
That, that indeed is Nature's work: I own
The influence. All Nature cries, return!
Give good for evil is a law divine;
But good for good's a law e'en mortal Nature
Could suggest, and Dev'ls alone deny.—
Constance! I owe Orlando much; a debt
I must repay, e'en though I lose myself.
Yes, I will strive to conquer misery,
Catch at each twig to flatter me with bliss,
And try at least to hide my pangs from him.

(Exeunt.
Enter Orlando.
Now, by my stars! such formal friendship tires:
I thought they never would have left the Castle.—
Ere this my ruffians have dispos'd their prey—
Murder my wife! why will the thought intrude?
Rebellious thought! that will not yield obedience
To any sway.—I'll think of Magdeline,
Who now prepares with panting expectation—
Panting her last breath—while Hugo's dagger
Reeks with the parting life—Ah bloody villain!
Another purse would point the weapon here.—
Oh! coward, coward heart!—what! shall I ne'er
Shake off these fev'rish apprehensions?
Dwelling on horrid phantasies, though vain,
Till my disorder'd frame is all on motion,
And my soul harrow'd by ideal forms.
Avaunt ye idle dreams! my Magdeline
Henceforth shall banish ev'ry thought but Love.

(Exit.