SCENE II.
Yvor, Alan.
Yvor.
Before we talk of Business; if thou lov'st me,
Haste,
Alan, to the Temple:—Say, that
Yvor—
Alan.
[Page 27]
Alas! The Princess—
Yvor.
How!
Alan.
She is a Captive:—
Born off:—A Prisoner, in the
Roman Camp.
Yvor.
A Prisoner; say you?—But it cannot be.—
A Captive?—Speak:—Whence, this Intelligence?
Some idle Rumour!—
Ebranc was her Guard.
Do not dally with my Fondness.
Alan.
Ebranc did all, that Man could do, to save her.
A Band of
Romans, Part (it is suppos'd)
Of the main Body sent, too late, to succour
The
Caledonian Troops; as back they came,
Skirting within the Wood, espied the Princess,
Then returning; and bore away their Prize.
The trusty
Ebranc fell, in her Defence.
A Soldier, scaping; has inform'd the King.
Yvor.
It is enough!
Alan.
Why do you droop? Why, speechless? Why, my Prince,
That sadden'd Brow; that settled Look of Woe?
You must not nourish, thus, a silent Sorrow.—
Never, have I beheld you thus, before!—
This is too much! Oh, speak!—and be reliev'd.—
That Groan exceeds your Silence!
Yvor.
I am wretched.
Alan.
Why will you boad such Ills? Why, quit your Hopes,
To nurse Despair? And, on the first Alarm,
Abandon Reason?
Yvor.
Thou hast quite unman'd me!—
But,
Yvor has no farther Use for Reason:
I give it up; resign each Faculty:
The Power of Recollection is my Torment.
Alas, what Relish can I have for Life?
What Vertue, what Ambition, can awake
My Soul to Action?—I renounce, I curse,
My Victory; my Bane: Pernicious Conquest!
[Page 28] Now, let the
Romans take what I possess:—
The Island let them take!—A little Cave
Suffices me, to grieve!—A while, to grieve;
And, then, to die forgotten!—Or if mention'd,
Known, only, for my most disasterous Love!
Alan.
Your Words afflict me:—Talk not thus, my Prince.
Yvor.
O I must talk!—Do not forbid, but hear, me:—
And, I must talk of
Gwendolen,—And
Yvor!
Names, never to be spoken of, asunder.
The Heart of Man can not conceive the Love,
I bore to
Gwendolen!—I did not know,
Not half, the excessive Measure of my Fondness.
She was,—Alas, what was she not, to Me,
When she was mine!—In Her did I rejoyce;
For Her I liv'd; for Her, alone, I fought.
Alan.
Fight for her, still; and win her from the
Romans.
Yvor.
To Death will I pursue the Ravishers:
Inflict worse Vengeance, than the Scourge of War;
And torture Them,—as they now torture Me!
Though
Vanoc should relent, I never can:
His Injuries are light, compar'd to mine!
My People, sure, will never tamely bear
To see their Prince, a Wretch!—Though I should fall,
They will avenge me.—Thou,
Alan, wilt avenge me.
Alan.
Now, are you Man, again!—I did forbear
To stop your Flow of Grief:—But, will assist
Your Rage.
Yvor.
I feel my Resolution rise.
My Strength returns: It springs!—Through every Nerve,
My Spirits swell!—Single, methinks, I drive
The Foe!—
Alan.
They shall not, long, detain the Princess.
Yvor.
Say that again, my Friend! Accomplish that;
[Page 29] And I am blest!—Give me back
Gwendolen,
And, in the meanest Cottage, I am happy.—
Her Soul is rais'd above the Pride of Life!
But, thou would'st fain beguile my Care: and fain
Would I deceive my self.—Too flattering Hope!—
I never shall behold the Princess more.
Didius will know the Value of his Prize.
He will, himself, be smitten with such Beauty:
Or if, to
Rome, he send the lovely Captive;
What costlier Present can he make to
Claudius?
His wide-spread Empire, the whole World, contains
Nothing, so rare!—She is surpassing Fair!—
The Eye, that does behold; the Ear, that hears her,
The Eye, the Ear, the Soul throughout, is ravish'd!
No,
Alan; I shall never see her more.—
Alan.
These are the Fears of Love.
Yvor.
They are such Fears,
As give my Heart no Respite from Despair.
I am not wont to be alarm'd.—What, then,
Must
Gwendolen have suffer'd, from her Fears,
When I was absent, in the midst of Dangers!
Alan.
In either Sex, true Love is truly anxious.
Yvor.
In all my Heart, I do not find one Hope▪
That is not kill'd with Fear.
Alan.
But, see the King:—
His Spirit never faints.
Yvor.
He is no Lover.
SCENE VIII.
Vanoc, Alan, Valens.
Vanoc.
Now Tribune:—
Val.
Health to
Vanoc.
Van.
Speak your Business.
Val.
I come not as an Herald, but a Friend:
And I rejoice, that
Didius chose out me,
To greet a Prince, in my Esteem, the foremost.
Van.
So much for Words.—Now, to your Purpose, Tribune.
Val.
Sent by our new Lieutenant, who in
Rome,
And since from me, has heard of your Renown;
I come to offer Peace: To reconcile
Past Enmities; to strike perpetual Leagues
With
Vanoc: Whom our Emperor invites
[Page 34] To Terms of Friendship; strictest Bonds of Union.
Van.
We must not hold a Friendship with the
Romans.
Val.
Why must you not?
Van.
Vertue forbids it.
Val.
Once,
You thought, our Friendship was your greatest Glory.
Van.
I thought you honest.—I have been deceiv'd.—
Would you deceive me twice? No, Tribune; no!
You sought for War:—Maintain it as you may.
Val.
Believe me, Prince; your Vehemence of Spirit,
Prone ever to Extremes, betrays your Judgment.
Would you once cooly reason on our Conduct,—
Van.
Oh, I have scann'd it thorough!—Night and Day
I think it over: And I think it base;
Most infamous!—Let who will judge;—but
Romans!
Did not my Wife, did not my menial Servant,
Seducing each the other, both conspire
Against my Crown, against my Fame, against my Life?
Did they not levy War, and wage Rebellion?
And when I would assert my Right and Power,
As King and Husband; when I would chastise
Two most abandon'd Wretches: Who, but
Romans,
Oppos'd my Justice, and maintain'd their Crimes?
Do I not reason cooly on your Conduct?—
You have the Art, to gloss the foulest Cause:
I shew it undisguis'd.—For
Cartismand,
The
Romans stood: The
Britons, and the Gods,
Declar'd for
Vanoc.—Do I argue fairly?
Val.
At first, the
Romans did not interpose;
But griev'd to see their best Allies at Variance.
Indeed, when you turn'd Justice into Rigor,
And even that Rigor was pursued with Fury;
[Page 35] We undertook to mediate for the Queen;
And hoped to moderate—
Van.
To moderate!—
What would you moderate? My Indignation?
The just Resentment of a vertuous Mind?
To mediate for the Queen!—You undertook!—
Wherein concern'd it You? But as you love
To exercise your Insolence!—Are you
To arbitrate my Wrongs?—Must I ask leave;
Must I be taught, to govern o'er my Houshold?
Am I, then, void of Reason, and of Justice?
When, in my Family, Offences rise;
Shall Strangers, saucy Intermeddlers, say,
Thus far, and thus, are you allow'd to punish?
When I submit to such Indignities;
When I am tamed to that Degree of Slavery:—
Make me a Citizen, a Senator of
Rome;
To watch, to live upon the Smiles of
Claudius:
To give my Wife, my Children, to his Pleasures;
And sell my Countrey with my Voice for Bread.
Val.
Prince, you insult, upon this Day's Success.
You may provoke too far.—But I am cool.—
I give your Anger scope.
Van.
Who shall confine it?—
The
Romans!—Let them rule their Slaves.— I blush,
That dazzled in my Youth with Ostentation,
The Trappings of the Men seduced my Vertue.
Val.
Blush rather, that you are a Slave to Passion;
Subservient to the Wildness of your Will;
Which, like a Whirlwind, tears up all your Vertues;
And gives you not the Leisure to consider.
Did not the
Romans civilize you?
Van.
No!—
They brought new Customs, and new Vices over;
Taught us more Arts, than honest Men require;
And gave us Wants, that Nature never gave.
Val.
We found you naked:—
Van.
[Page 36]
And you found us free!—
Now, on my Soul, the Mountain Stag, that springs
From Height to Height, and bounds along the Plains,
Nor has a Master to restrain his Course;
That Mountain Stag would
Vanoc rather be,
Than be a Slave!—Much less, the Slave of Slaves!
Val.
Would you be temperate once, and hear me out!—
Van.
Speak Things▪ that honest Men may hear with Temper!
Speak the plain Truth; and varnish not your Crimes!
Say, that you once were vertuous:—Long ago!
A frugal, hardy People;—like the
Britons:
Before you grew thus elegant in Vice,
And gave your Luxuries the Name of Vertues.
The Civilizers!—The Disturbers, say;—
The Robbers, the Corrupters of Mankind!
Proud Vagabonds! who make the World your Home;
And lord it, where you have no Right.
Val.
You wrong
Your Friends, your Benefactors, your Instructors!
Since you will have the Truth, I speak it out.
Who, but the
Romans, fashion'd your rude Natures?
Smooth'd your rough Tempers? Changed you into Men,
From wild
Barbarians, Savages in Woods?
Van.
You changed us into Beasts, most servile Beasts!
To bear your Impositions; your Dominion:
Taught us, indeed, to cloath, to dwell in Houses,
To feast, to sleep on Down, to be profuse:
A fine Exchange for Liberty!—What Vertue
Have you taught?
Val.
Humanity.
Van.
Oh, Patience!—
Val.
Can you disown a Truth, confess'd by All?
A Praise, a Glory, known in barbarous Climes?
Far as our Legions march, they carry Knowledge;
The Arts, the Laws, the Discipline of Life.
[Page 37] Our Conquests are Indulgencies; and We,
Not Masters, but Protectours of Mankind.
Van.
Prevaricating, false,—most courteous Tyrants;—
Romans!—Rare Patterns of Humanity!
Came you, then, here, thus far, through Waves, to conquer,
To waste, to plunder; out of mere Compassion?
Is it Humanity that prompts you on
To ravage the whole Earth: To burn, destroy?
To raise the Cries of Widows, and of Orphans?
To lead in Bonds, the generous, free-born Princes,
Who spurn, who fight against your Tyranny?
Happy for us,—and happy for you, Spoilers,
Had your Humanity ne'er reach'd our World!—
It is a Vertue,—(so it seems you call it)
A
Roman Vertue! that has cost you dear:—
And dearer shall it cost, if
Vanoc lives.—
Or if we die, we shall leave those behind us,
Who know the Worth of
British Liberty.
Val.
I mean not to reproach your Ancestors;
Untaught, uncultivated, as they were:
Inhospitable, full of Ferocity;
Lions in Spirit; cruel beyond Men:
Your Altars reeking oft with human Blood.
Nor will I urge you farther on our Merits.
I come instructed, Sir, to offer Peace:
The Peace, that
Didius offers,
Valens sues for.
Propose your Terms; and you will find me forward
To win the General to a Compliance;
And to deserve, once more, the Name of Friend.
Van.
Deliver up the Queen; send back my Daughter:
This done; we may be brought to treat of Peace.
Val.
Therein the Dignity, the Faith of
Claudius,
Would highly suffer.
Van.
Is, then, the Dignity,
The Faith of
Claudius, founded on Injustice?
[Page 38] Is it his Glory to protect a Traiteress;
A base, a profligate adulterous Woman?
Fit Emperour, indeed, to govern
Romans!—
But,
Valens, let me tell you, the free
Britons
Would not endure his Sway.—They must have Justice;
And from their Prince, do they require it most!—
Nay, they demand it.—
Were I a Villager, the meanest Freeman
In all your State; and
Claudius should presume,—
Or any
Caesar,—to abuse his Power,
And authorize enormous Crimes; I would not,—
No!—were his Anger Death,—I could not bear it!
But would oppose him, to my stretch of Power.
Val.
In blaming us; in making your Demands,
You do not recollect the Services,
The Debt, we owe to
Cartismand.
Van.
The Services; the Debt!—Notorious Deed!—
Her earliest Infamy; your worst Disgrace!
Not recollect! O
Caradoc!—Thy Prowess,
Not thy Credulity, be my Example!
Not know your Shame!—Yes, every
Briton knows it.
You triumph'd by a Woman's Perfidy!
Ostorius bought the Foe, he could not conquer;
Who, else, had conquer'd him, and freed this Island.
Val.
Impetuous
Briton! Partial in your Rage!
Van.
The Fate of
Caradoc, and Shame of
Cartismand,
Will ever be remembred through the Land.
Did she not promise Aids? Invite him to her?
Receive him with adulterated Smiles?
Then bind the brave, believing Man in Chains;
And barter with you for the Boast of
Britain?
Yet this, your Emperour vainly call'd a Triumph:
And made a Spectacle of Vertue, thus betray'd!
Val.
You need not thus, employ your Eloquence:
We know it all.
Van.
[Page 39]
Yet let me recollect.
Through the wide crowded Streets of
Rome, behold
The Warriour walk, Majestick in his Bonds!—
In the full Senate, now, he stands undaunted;
An aged, awful, a triumphant Captive!
His Looks, his Words, appall the robed Assembly;
And shake vain-glorious
Claudius on his Throne.
Val.
Claudius took off his Chains.—Remember that!
Van.
Then did your Nobles see a Man; a
Briton!
The Admiration; the Terrour of the
Romans.
This is the mighty Debt you owe that Woman.
Val.
Yet, after this, you married
Cartismand!
Van.
I was ambitious.—That I learn'd from You.
That I did wed with Treachery, and was a Friend
To
Romans, is the whole Reproach of
Vanoc.
But they and she, combin'd, have clear'd my Honour!
And, when I stain it, by forgiving Either;
Let my own Subjects brand me for a Coward.
Val.
Talk not of Honour, Prince!—An empty Sound;
The Vaunting of a
Briton in his Choler!—
To me, at least, you should have spar'd the Boast.
You can renounce your Word, we know, at Pleasure;
Forget past Services, worn Marks of Kindness:
Then quarrel with your Friends, to free the Debt;
And sacrifice all Faith to your Resentments.
Van.
This Accusation I can hear unmov'd:
It sullies not my Soul, nor taints my Fame.
It is a Slander; I expect no better.
Val
Do I calumniate then?—Ungrateful
Vanoc!—
Perfidious Prince!—Is it a Calumny
To say, that
Gwendolen, betroth'd to
Yvor,
Was, by her Father, first assur'd to
Valens?
By solemn Promises you made her mine;
And I, by faithful Services deserv'd her.
What have I done, to merit this Injustice?
Van.
Then
Valens was our Friend.
Val.
[Page 40]
I never was
Your Foe.—Urge not that weak Defense.—You know,
How much my Heart approv'd your Cause in secret;
How I remonstrated against the War;
How I abhorr'd the Conduct of the Queen!
What did I not for you?—Through my Persuasion,
How often did
Ostorius proffer Peace?
Van.
When I had worsted him, and kept the Field;
Which still I keep, Thanks to the valiant
Yvor.
Val.
I once did think the Word of
Vanoc sacred.—
You may confirm it still.
Van.
Where it is due,
It shall not fail.—You never were my Foe:—
Those are your Words.—Yet when
Ostorius died,
And the Command devolv'd on you alone;
You fought for
Cartismand.—My Daughter!—No!—
Were it to save her Life, she should not wed
A
Roman.
Val.
Then hear me,—proud
Cornavian!—
Unthinking Prince; I take you at your Word:
Nor shall you forfeit it a second Time.
She shall not wed; she shall not be a Wife:
But she shall be a Slave;—And to a
Roman!
The wretched Mother shall she be of Slaves;
And live to curse her Offspring, and her Father!
I will not ask your Leave, to use my Captive,
As I please:—She is my Right, my Property.
We thank you, that there needs no farther Courtship.
I can command her; and she must comply.
Fortune is just:—What you refuse, she gives;
And
Vanoc suffers, for his Breach of Promise.
Van.
Hence Menacer!—Nor tempt me into Rage.—
This Roof protects thy Rashness.—But be gone!—
I cannot answer for mine Indignation.
If thou should'st dare to violate my Child;
Or but pollute her Cheek, with one rude Kiss:
What heavy Vengeance shall I not require!—
[Page 41] Nor Man, nor Woman, nor the new born Infant,
Nor any Thing, that's
Roman, will I spare;
But in the Bitterness of Wrath destroy.
And for thy Iewd, ill-manner'd Threats, remember,
That I, henceforward, do abjure all Peace:
Nor shall you buy my Friendship with your Empire.
Away!—
Alan, conduct the Tribune forth:—
And let him pass unquestion'd.