The Stolen Heiress Part 13

We die, or are dash'd back again to what we were.

_Enter_ Eugenio _and_ Lucasia.

_Luc._ Faithful _Irus_ how shall I reward thee?

Ha! see where stands _Palante_ and his Friend!

Oh! lead me _Irus_, quickly, lead me back, Else I shall grow a Statue at this Sight: Not all the frightful Noise of Chains we've past, And meagre Looks of Wretches in Despair, Are half so terrible as this.

_Pal._ My _Lucasia_!

Art thou come to take thy last Adieu, and Bless my Eyes before they close for ever?

_Luc._ Oh! _Palante_!

_Pal._ What! no more? Give thy labouring Sorrows vent, That like Convulsions heaves thy snowy b.r.e.a.s.t.s, And struggles for a Pa.s.sage to thy Tongue.

_Luc._ O! I had dy'd e'er seen this fatal Hour; But this good Man pursu'd with Care my Steps, And stop'd my Hand, which else had giv'n the Blow, When first I heard the sad and dreadful News, That thou, _Palante_, wer't condemn'd to die.

_Eug._ Still all I ask is, that you wou'd have Patience; I'll to Court where Lord _Euphenes_ is, Now begging for his Son, in Hope to bring you Happiness.

[_Exit_ Eug.

_Luc._ Fly _Irus_, fly, and bring us instant Word.

Oh! my aking Brain is near Distraction; For much I fear there is no Help for me.

_Pal._ Yet I rejoice in this, I'm found of n.o.ble Birth-- That in succeeding Ages, when this Act, With all its Circ.u.mstances shall be told, No Blot may rest upon thy Virgin Fame; No censuring Tongue reflect upon thy Choice; And say thy Husband was a Wretch unknown, And quite unworthy of _Lucasia_'s Arms.

_Luc._ What Comfort's in this late Discovery found?

Will the Greatness of thy Race protect thee?

Virtue and ev'ry Good was thine before; Yet the cruel Pow'rs are deaf to all my Prayers: Nor will thy Merit plead with angry Heav'n, To ward the Stroke, and save thy precious Life.

Oh Greatness! thou vain and vap'rish Shew, That, like a Mist, dazzles the Eyes of Men, And as the Fogs destroy the Body's Health, That poisons deep, and gangrenes in the Soul; But seldom's found t' a.s.sist the virtuous Man.

Thou wert---- As dear to these desiring Eyes before, And honour'd full as much in this poor Heart.

Oh! I cou'd curse the Separating Cause, And wish _Lucasia_ never had been born.

_Pal._ Be calm, my Love, my everlasting Dear, Cease to lament, and give thy Spirits ease.

Oh! hear me Heav'n, and grant my last Request; May Health, long Life, and ev'ry Bliss beside, Conduce to make _Lucasia_ happy still.

Let nothing fall to interrupt her Joy, But make it lasting as you make it great.

Grant this, and I to rigorous Destiny Submit with Pleasure.

_Luc._ Long Life; no, rather wish me sudden Death, To rid me of my Cares, and that Way give me Ease.

Ha! I'm seiz'd with an unusual Terror, Fear And Horror swim in Shades of Night around, How sad and dreadful are these Prison Walls!

Thy Voice seems hollow too, and Face looks pale.

Oh! my _Palante_, my Heart---- Throbs, as if the Strings of Life were breaking.

[_A Bell tolls within._ Hark! hark! Oh! 'twas this that it foretold.

Ope' Earth, hide me in thy unfathom'd Womb, To drown the Call of Fate----this dismal Bell.

_Cler._ Madam---- Be patient, add not to his Misery; For whilst he sees you thus, his Soul's unfit For aught but Earth; th' Approach of Death is near, A little Time is necessary now, To calm his Mind to suffer like a Man.

_Luc._ Oh! Heav'n help me. [_Faints._

_Pal._ Oh! She's dying; do not thus rend my Soul with Grief.

_Enter an Officer._

_Officer._ Gentlemen, this Bell gives warning, that within Half an Hour you must prepare to die.

_Pal._ 'Tis very well, we shall be ready.

Canst thou conduct this Lady to her Father's House?

_Luc._ Stand off, and touch me not: No, I will stay with thee.

Do not push me from thee, my dear _Palante_; For I shall die apace, and go before.

_Officers._ The Officers all wait to conduct ye to the Place of Execution.

_Cler._ We come now, Friend, when shall we meet again.

_Pal._ The bless'd Pow'rs can tell, in Heav'n sure.

Luc. _Oh! all ye Maids that now are crown'd above;_ _Did any feel, like me, the Wrecks of Love?_ _By Tempests torn from my dear Husband's Side,_ _And made a Widow, when I'm scarce a Bride._

SCENE _the Governor's House_.

_Enter Governor and Count_ Pirro, _and Lord_ Gravello.

_Govern._ This is strange _Palante_ should be found The Lord _Euphene_'s Son; but fear not Nephew, the Law has pa.s.s'd, and he shall suffer.

_Pirro._ I urge still, my Lord, she was my promised Wife; Her Father so design'd her, had he then been known Euphene's Son. I urge that, speak my good Father.

_Grav._ My Lord, I had; yet let me own, I rather wish the unknown _Palante_ had suffer'd for my Daughter, than the Son of one, who tho' my Foe, I must acknowledge great and brave.

_Govern._ So wou'd I my Lord, but there's no Fence for Accidents; I do expect to be beset with Prayers and Tears, but all in vain; see where he comes.

_Enter_ Euphenes _and_ Alphonso.

_Euph._ Behold! Lord Governor, my aged Knees, are bent to thee, 'Tis in thy Power to wrest this heavy Judgment of the Law; Suspend it at least, till the King shall hear the Cause, And save my Son.

_Gover._ Rise _Euphenes_, your Speech carries a double Meaning, you pray and threaten with the same Breath, we are not to be frighted Lord; the Laws of _Sicily_ have had their Course, your Son falls by them.

_Euph._ Oh! mistake me not, I am as humble as your Pride can wish me; but give me Leave to speak, tho' 'tis my hard Fortune to offend; let me the Anguish of my Soul deliver to that injurious Lord, the Father of _Lysander_'s, or by the more known Name, _Palante_'s Wife; hard-hearted Man! had'st thou no other Way to wreck thy canker'd and long foster'd Hate upon my Head, but this? Thus cruelly, by my Son's Suffering, and for such a Fault as thou shou'dst Love him, rather? Is thy Daughter injur'd by this Marriage? Is his Blood base? Or can his now rising Fortunes know an Ebb? This Law was made to restrain the Vile from wronging n.o.ble Persons, by Attempts of such a kind; but where Equality meets in the Match, there is no Crime! or if there is, forgive his Youth, and have Pity on him.

_Gover. Euphenes_, you wrong your Virtue when you'd save a Criminal, the Law condemns; tho' the righteous Judgment falls upon your Son, and your Appeal shall come too late.

_Euph._ Then you have set a Period to a loyal House and Family that have been Props of the _Sicilian_ Crown and with their Blood in Wars, won many an honour'd Field. I can spend no more in Tears, I'll spend the sad Remnant of my childless Age, and only wish to rest i'th' Grave together.

_Alph._ Hear me thou Governor, not kneeling, but erect as old Age and Slavery has left me: This n.o.ble _Sicilian_ Youth was lost in defending _Sicily_ from the fam'd Fortress, which beat back a thousand Times, invading Foes, and sunk 'em in the working Seas, from thence the Child was ta'en, and must he 'scape the Hazards of the rowling Waves, Rocks, Tempests, Pirates, and ignominious Fate, to perish in his native Isle: Oh, barbarous Usage, stop yet at least his Judgment, and let this poor old Man see once again, his dear _Palante_; for that I'll bow my stubborn Knees, and ask the Blessings as I importune Heaven.

_Euph._ Oh! my Lord, let my unhappy Son appear before ye, e'er the cruel Sentence comes to Execution.

_Grav._ If you deny them this, it may be ill represented to the King.