The Roman brides revenge a tragedy, as it is acted at the Theatre-Royal, by His Majesty's servants.
Gildon, Charles, 1665-1724.
SCENE II.
A Gallery in the Pallace.
Enter Perennius, and Laetus in a Vestal Virgins Habit.
Peren.
THIS is the place the Empress order'd us
To wait her in: But I must not be seen.
(Is going.
Gods! what sudden Trembling's this, that shakes me?
My Nerves forsake their office, my knees knock;
Faintness and Shiv'ring chills my Heart!
Laet.
'Tis the surprize of near approaching Joy,
That, like a Mid-night 'Larum in a Camp,
Starts all your Faculties into Confusion:
They'll soon into their ancient order fall,
And bear you bravely to the noble Onset.
Per.
I hope they will-Hark! a Noise! 'st 'tis the Door,
I will before, to give you timely Notice,
If ought approach, bring her through the back Court;
'Tis most remote and safe.
Laet.
—Be gon, I will.
[Exit Peren.
The Door opens, the Empress and Portia enter with a Candle, Lae∣tus
goes to 'em.
Empress.
O! Here's the pious Priestess that conducts you,
To her, and to the Gods I must commend you
And if the Wishes of a Wretch, like me,
Will ought avail, may they convey you safe,
To him you love, and make your Exile easie!
Por.
Opinion is the God that makes us happy,
And where my Martian is, I must be so;
Page 28F•r he is Country▪ Friends, and all to me.
Laet.
Madam, this Light m•st out, or back with you.
[To the Empress.
Por.
What in the Dark!
Laet.
The Light will discover•s.
The Moon's kind Beams will do our business best.
Por.
And will you gentle Virgin bring me safe
Laet.
To Vesta's Temple, and from thence to Marti••u!
It is our Duty to assist th' unhappy.
Por.
It were Impiety, indeed, to doubt
The highest Holy Ministers of Heav'n.
Laet.
Nothing but Fear, and Noise, and worse delay
Can disappoint your Happiness!
Emp.
Portia fa•ewel, may Heav'n reward thy Virtue!
Por.
And yours the Emperor
(Exit with Laetus.
Emp.
Oh! that he wou'd!
It is not in Heav'ns Pow'r to bless me more▪
But I'll go seek him out; and with fresh Tears
Melt his hard Heart, dissolve it into Love;
And in the Flames, that all my Bosome Fires
Consume his wandring Wishes and Desires.
(Exit at the Door, and shuts it after her,
Enter Emperor with Attendants and Lights.
Emp
It was not well to leave her in Despair;
I might have giv'n at least some doubtful Hope.
[Pauses.
I swear her tender Love was strongly moving!
And she is fair, by Heav'n! yes, wondrous fair!
And must be lov'd by all the World but me;
But I am doom'd to odd Fantastic Madness;
To doat on Pride, and vain affected Virtue,
That spu•ns me from her, and disdains my Love.
While I avoid the willing Charms that Court me.
But I will shake thy Chains off, cruel Portia,
And in my Empress's downy Arms forget thee.
Why dost thou fix thy beauteous Hand upon me?
Tear out my Heart, yet by the Gods I'll leave thee;
Gentle Vale•ia in her Breast shall shield me
From the imperious fury of thy Eyes.
Oh!
(Groans,
Like a poor Wretch upon his Feavourish Bed,
I toss, and tumble; turn from side to side,
And yet no easie posture can I find,
The raging Calenture still burns within.
(Seems to muse.
Page 29Enter Perennius at a distance.
Por.
Now Curses on ill Luck! the Doors are fast,
Through which we shou'd have made our wish'd escape.
They must come this way back.—Ha! the Emperor.
(Seeing him (Studys.
Hell and Furys all's lost, what must be done?
Emp.
Well, I will to her; dry her falling Tears,
Lock her within my burning Arms, and swear
Never to see her fatal Rival more.
Peren.
It must be so—this Laetus is unlucky;
His Head designs well, but he has no Fortune,
And I still loose by vent'ring on his Bottom.
This Dagger, as he enters, shall secure me,
For yet this Secret is between us two:
And see they come.
Enter Laetus and Portia.
Laet.
D•spond not, Madam, all will yet be well.
Per.
Ay, when this Dagger has transfixt thy Heart.
Stabs him.
Laet.
As he falls.
Ha! slain by thee! Villain, Dog! but I deserve it.(Dyes.
Per.
(Aside.)
Dye quickly then, or else 'twill do no good.Hold Madam, hold, I must secure you,
For the Emper•r. Lights there Portia, Treason!
Portia is flying.
(Aloud to Portia, who shrieks at Laetus's
fall, and is running back
Emp.
Ha! what say'st thou,
That Sound has ruin•d all my best Resolves!
(Runs to her.
Whither is she Flying! whither, and with whom?
Per.
That Sir, I can't yet tell, but this will shew me.
(Takes a Light
and looks at Laetus.
Emp.
Go instantly and seize the heedless Guards,
Per.
O ye good Gods, Sir, if it ben't Religion
That has conspir'd against your Happiness!
(Seems to look mo•e earnestly at Laetus with
the Light, kneeling down to the Body.
Emp.
Throw her vile Body to the hungry Dogs.
Per.
Ha! what is't I see! sure my Eyes must Err!
It is impossible! it cannot be!
What Laetus! my Friend! Death to my Repose!
The honest Laetus slain by this curs'd Hand!
Was this the kind return of all thy Friendship?
This the best Gift Perennius cou'd bestow?
Emp.
How's this! bemoan the Traytor in my hearing?
Per.
Pardon me Emperor, if I pay these Tears,
Page 30To one that lov'd me better than himself:
He was my Friend, my faithful honest Friend,
At least, I thought him so; the best good Man,
The plainest open Virtue, I e'er met with.
That, and his zealous Love for you, my Lord,
Won my Heart, for I've heard him swear,
He'd dye a thousand Deaths for your least Pleasure,
But oh! I find (alas! that he shou'd prove it)
The fairest Tongues oft hide the foulest Hearts,
And noisie Zeal conceals the Traytors ends.
Yet, if he did dissemble—
Emp.
If he did?
Why, is't not plain, art not thou witness of it?
Per.
'Tis true, my Sov'raign, and the Avenger too,
He from my Hand deserv'd to meet his Fate,
That durst impose upon my honest Nature,
And wrong the best of Masters, and his Friend.
Per.
Bless me, S•r, a Man! what is't a Man?
Emp.
A Man, Madam, yes, a young handsom Man!
I find your boasted Virtue's of a piece,
With that of all the rest of your frail Sex;
A cunning Blind, to put off them you like not,
And to secure your sport with those you fancy.
Yet tell me, foolish Fair, how coud'st thou choose
This groveling Vassal, and refuse his Lord?
Per.
O! base Valeria! coud'st thou fall so low,
From all thy shining Virtue, to Revenge
So mean, and so ungenerous as this!
Emp.
Ha, Valeria, didst thou say the Empress?
Didst thou not name Va•eria? speak.
Per.
Yes, and though I disdain thy poor Reflections,
Yet since my Honour claims the Truth, I'll speak.
It was the Empress that betray'd me to him,
With the false Hopes of flying to my Love.
I knew no other, than his Habit promis'd.
Through a blind Door she led me to this place,
And with dissembl'd Pity took her leave.
Per.
O! horrid Treachery, that she cou'd do so!
Emp.
Valeria, this low sordid Deed has stifl'd
All kind Designs of growing pity for thee.
And Portia's mightier Beauties now resume,
And fix their Empire in my Heart for ever.
Per.
O, Sir, relaps not from such just Designs.
Howe'er the Empress meant to ruin me,
'Twas but the bad effect of too much Love.
You have no cause of anger at her Fault,
Since 'twas for you, only for you, she did it.
Per.
What have I done, now Curses on my Tongue!
'Twas forg'd, and false, on purpose to abuse you!
Emp.
That cannot be, you knew not this by Door.
Come plead not for her, nor against my Passion.
For I'm all Fire, all Wild, and furious Love.
And by a Witchery most strange, and odd,
I love, and burn for, what obstructs my Hopes.
Perennius take my Portia to thy charge;
The Morning's Dawn shall make her Beauties mine.
Mean while, I will divorce me from Valeria,
And drive her out of the Imperial Pallace.
Per.
O hear me Sir, I beg you, on my Knees.
(Kneels.
Emp.
I will not hear one word upon that Subject,
But fly to punish thy ignoble Wrongs.
(Exit.
Per.
Punish 'em on thy self then brutal Tyrant!
I have no Enemies, no Wrongs, but thee,
Thou art the hatred Source of all my Wrongs.
O! ye great Gods, we're taught that you are just,
Why sleeps your Thunder then? why are your Bolts
Spent upon Trees, Mountains, and idle Deserts,
And never reach this Butcher of Mankind?
This old Oppressor of Innocence and Virtue!
Let 'em reach him, or me, I care not which,
Per.
Go fetch a Gaurd.
(To the Servant left with him.
Por.
But Heav'n is deaf as him to all my Prayers.
I will not bear't, O! but for Poysons, Daggers,
Any kind ready way to fly to Death!
Per.
Madam, you spend your balmy Breath in vain,
He hears you not, or if he did can't pity,
That wou'd destroy the Fund of all his Hopes.
I own, I pity you, and if I durst.—
Por.
What wou'dst thou do? for 'tis impossible
A Minister of his shou'd e're do good.
Per.
You're too severe, to censure all for him.
'Tis true, my Fortune tyes me to him fast,
Nay, I in Gratitude must own do love him.
Yet, I approve not all his cruel Deeds.
No, by the Gods, my Soul is made so tender,
Each mournful Object melts it ev'n to Tears.
What Pains, Diseases, Racks cou'd ne'er wrest from me,
Behold your Suff'rinngs, Madam, now extort!
(Seems to weep.
Por.
'Tis wondrous strange—how cou'dst thou ever please him.
Por.
And canst thou pity, and not resolve Redress?
Per.
Were I a God, for this I'd prize my Godhead,
That I cou'd help the Wretched without Danger;
But as • am a Man, the Emp•ror's Slave,
I forfeit Wealth, and Life, by such a Deed.
Por.
Can generous pity dwell within your Breast,
And yet not dare to do a dangerous Good?
O! if you e're have felt the Pangs of Love,
And all the Longings of oppos'd Desire,
I do conjure you by your Hopes to free me.
Per.
That Conjuration qu•te disarms my Fears,
And fills my Heart with a most noble Daring.
For I do love, and in that very manner.
Enter Guards.
But see the Guards, I now must say no more.
Here, conduct her to m' Appartment—
(They carry her off.
This was a dexterous turn of my Wit,
That like the friendly Hand of some kind God,
Snatch'd me from off the very brink of Ruin,
And here has thrown the Prize into my Bosom!
Fortune has yet but blest my Hopes by halves;
Held out the glittering Cup of Joys brim full,
Then dash'd it on the Ground, ev'n at my Lips.
But now I'll hold the fickle Goddess fast;
Grasp bright Occasion by the formost lock,
And use the lucky hours she hast lent me.
Portia shall win me to her hop'd escape.
Till I have train'd her to the lonely Grotto,
That will drown all her Crys, and Woman's Skreams.
And when I have reveng'd me on her Beauties,
With my best Jewels, I will fly from Rome.
'Tis but the Scene of Pleasure to remove,
No Exile can be worse than hopeless Love.
(Exit.
The End of the Third ACT.
