Chapter VI: Act IV: SCENE the Governor's House

The Governor in a Chair reading._

_Gov._ I Have been searching over all our _Sicilian_ Laws, and know they cannot find one Clause to save _Palante_.

_Enter a Servant._

_Serv._ A Lady without, my Lord will not be denied your Presence.

_Gov._ Admit her.

_Enter_ Lucasia.

_Luc._ Pardon me, Sir, for pressing thus rudely
On your Privacy, I know 'tis boldness.
But I hope the Hour's propitious to me,
Finding you alone, and free from Business,
I promise myself I shall be heard with Patience.

_Gov._ Were the Business of the World at stake, such Beauty would claim a Hearing, speak Madam.

_Luc._ Thus low I beg for poor _Palante_'s Life.

_Gov._ Ha!

_Luc._ Oh, Sir.
If ever Pity touch'd your gen'rous Breast,
If ever Virgin's Tears had Power to move,
Or if you ever lov'd and felt the Pangs
That other Lovers do, pity, great Sir,
Pity and pardon two unhappy Lovers.

_Gov._ Your Life is not in Question, Madam.

_Luc._ If _Palante_ dies, I cannot live, for we
Have but one Heart, and can have but one Fate.

_Gov._ What I can do, I will to save him, but Law must have its Course, rise Madam.

_Luc._ Never till----
The gracious Word of Pardon raises me,
There's Pity in your Eye, oh! shew it, Sir!
And say that he shall live, 'tis but a Word,
But oh, as welcome as the Breath of Life,
Why will you part two Hearts that Heav'n has join'd?
He is my Husband, Sir, and I his wedded Wife.

_Gov._ That can plead no Excuse, for 'tis your Crime, but if I shou'd incline to pity you, what wou'd you return? what wou'd you do to purchase the Life of him you hold so dear?

_Luc._ You cannot think the Thing I would not do.
Speak, Sir, and lay it but in my Power,
And even beyond my Power I will attempt.

_Gov._ You wou'd be thankful then shou'd I pardon him?

_Luc._ If I were ever thankful unto Heav'n
For all that I call mine, my Health and Being,
Cou'd I then be unthankful unto you,
For a Gift I value more than those?
Without which all other Blessings will be tasteless.

_Gov._ Those that are thankful study to requite, wou'd you do so?

_Luc._ As far as I am capable I will,
Tho' I can ne'er make ample Satisfaction,
All my Services to you are Duty,
But to those Pow'rs above that can requite
That from their Wasteless Treasure daily heap
Rewards more out of Grace than merit on
Us Mortals;
To those I'll pray that they wou'd give you, Sir,
More Blessings than I have Skill to ask.

_Gov._ There rises one Way and but one to save him.

_Luc._ Oh! name it, Sir, that----
Swift as the Arrow from the Archer's Hand
My trembling Feet may fly to save him,
Oh! you have rais'd me from the Gulph of Grief
To that blest comfortable Region, Hope,
My Senses all dance in the Cirque of Joy.
My ravish'd Heart leaps up to hear your Words,
And seems as 'twou'd come forth to thank you.
Say, how, how shall I save him?

_Gov._ Marry my Nephew _Pirro_ and _Palante_ lives.

_Luc._ Oh! unexpected Turn of rigid Fate,
Cruel, Sir, far more cruel than my Father.
Why did you raise me to a Height of Joy?
To sink me in a Moment down again,
In what a sad Dilemma stands my Choice,
Either to wed the Man my Soul most loaths,
Or see him die for whom alone I live.
To break my sacred Vows to Heav'n and him,
To save a Life which he would scorn to take
On Terms like those, name any Thing but that,
You are more just than to enforce my Will,
Why should I marry one I cannot love,
And sure I am I cannot love Count _Pirro_,
Love him! no, I shou'd detest and loath him.
The Cause that made him mine, wou'd hourly add
Fresh Matter for my Hate.

_Gov._ You have your Choice, I swear by Heaven never to pardon him, but upon these Conditions.

_Luc._ Oh! I am miserable.

_Gov._ 'Tis your own Fault, come consider Madam, _Palante_ will thank you for his Life, and if you let him die, you are the Tyrant.

_Luc._ I shou'd be such if I shou'd save him thus.
Since you have swore not to save him upon
Other Terms, I'll shew a duteous Cruelty
And rather follow him in Death than so
To buy his Life, no, I despise the Price.
Why do I breathe my Woes, or beg for Mercy here;
Or hope to find plain Honesty in Courts?
No, their Ears are always stopp'd against Justice,
Avarice and Pride supplies the Place of Pity.

_So may just Heav'n when you for Mercy sue,_
_As you have pitied me so pardon you._ [Exeunt severally.

SCENE _Count_ Gravello's _House_.

_Enter_ Larich, Lavinia, Sancho _and_ Tristram.

_San._ Is the Priest ready _Tristram_?

_Trist._ Yes, yes, Sir, a Priest and a Lawyer are always in Readiness, their Tongues are the chief Instrument belonging to their Trade, with which they commonly do more Mischief than all the Surgeons in the Kingdom can heal, he waits in the next Room, Sir, if you can get the Lady in the Mind.

_Lar._ You are witty Sirrah, but no more of your Jests, do ye hear, least I make you experience, there's something else can do Mischief besides their Tongues, come Mistress what you are in the Dumps now, are you? dry up your Eyes and go about it chearfully, or I'll turn you out of Doors, I assure you.

_Lav._ Good, Sir, consider.

_Lar._ Consider! no I won't consider, nor shall you consider upon ought but what I'd have you.

_Lav._ Sir, do you persuade him. [_To Sanch._] think how unhappy I shall make you.

_San._ Make me happy first, and then I'll do any Thing you'd have me.

_Trist._ The wisest Bargain I ever heard my Master make.

_Lav._ What wou'd you do, Sir, with me that cannot love you? Alas I was engaged long before I saw you, you may be happier far elsewhere, go court some Nymph whose Heart's intirely free, such only can be worthy of your Love.

_San._ For my Part I don't know what to say.

_Lar._ 'Zdeath she'll persuade him by and by to quit his Pretences to her----come, come, come Mistress no more of your Cant. [_Pulls her by the Arm._] It shall avail you nothing I'll promise you.

_Lav._ Good, Sir, hold a little, Don _Sancho_ seems disposed to hear Reason.

_San._ Why ay truly, for my Part methinks 'tis a Pity to vex the Lady so.

_Lav._ Besides, Sir, 'tis for his sake I do it, to make him easy, and to prevent his eternal Shame and Torture.

_San._ Poor Fool, how hard it is, ay, ay, I know 'tis for my Sake, pray, Sir, hear her--pray do for my Sake as she says.

_Lar._ Pooh Fool.

_San._ Shall she say more for my Sake, than you'll hear Father that is to be.

_Lar._ Well Huzzy, consider what you say, for if it be'nt to the Purpose, as I'm sure it won't----look to't!

_Lav._ Before your hasty Rashness betrays me to eternal Woe, revoke your harsh Commands.

_Lar._ Ay, I knew that would follow, and this is all you have to say, Mistress, ha? come, come Woe, I'll woe you.

_Lav._ Something I have to speak, but know not in what Words to dress my Thoughts fit for me to speak, or you to hear, oh spare the poor Remains of my already too much violated Modesty,--Heav'n can I do this, but there is no other Way. [_Aside._

_Lar._ How? how? how's that? Modesty! why what a Duce is the Matter with your Modesty, ha?

_Lav._ Oh! Sir, force me not to wrong a Man whose Father I have so often heard you say, you lov'd, think what sure Disgrace will follow, how will it reflect upon your Name and Family, when I shall be found no Virgin.

_Lar._ Ha! no Virgin? take Heed Minion that you stain not the Honour of my House, for if you do, I swear by the best Blood in _Sicily_, my Sword shall do me Justice.

_Lav._ Now help me Courage, and forgive me Heaven my Resolutions, Death or my _Francisco_. [_Aside._

I throw myself beneath your Feet, thus prostrate beg for Mercy, that I have deserved Death my guilty Blushes own, the mighty Secret hangs upon my Tongue, but Shame refuses Utterance to my Words.

_Lar._ I'm all of a cold Sweat, Heav'ns! how I dread the End of her Discourse.

_San._ Pray Father let her rise, or I shall weep too.

_Trist._ Nay, I'll say that for my Master, he's as tractable as a Monkey, and generally does what he sees other People do. [_Aside._

_Lav._ Oh! let it still remain unknown, and rather banish me, confine me to some horrid Desart, there to live on Roots and withered Grass, and with the falling Dew, still quench my Thirst, and lastly to some savage Monster be a Prey, e'er I divulge my Shame.

_San._ I can hold no longer. [_Cries aloud._

_Lar._ On, for I'll hear it all, tho' thou shalt live no longer than thou hast told thy Tale.

_Lav._ Sure ne'er before was Maid thus wretched, Oh _Francisco_! I give thee here the greatest Proof of Love that ever Woman gave----if it must out, then with it take my Life, but Oh! spare the innocent Babe.

_Lar._ Ha! the Babe?

_Lav._ Oh! I am with Child.

_Lar._ Then die both, and both be damn'd.
[_Offers to stab her, but is prevented by_ Sancho _and_ Tristram.

_Sanc._ Oh, Lord, Sir, for Heavens Sake, Sir, are you mad, help _Tristram_.

_Lar._ 'Zdeath a Whore! Oh thou Scandal of my Blood.

_San._ Egad I'm resolv'd to own the Child, and bully this old Fellow a little now----a Whore, Sir! who dares call my Wife a Whore? the Child is mine, Sir, let me see who has any Thing to say to't.

_Lar._ Away, don't trifle with me, I shall not give you Credit.

_San._ What care I whether you do or no, I say again the Child is mine, Madam, dry your Eyes, I like you ne'er the worse, and the World will like me the better for't, it will bring me into Reputation.

_Lav._ Oh Heavens! what will come on me now, Oh! fly me, Sir, as you wou'd shun Contagion, cou'd you receive into your Arms a Wretch polluted by another.

_San._ Pish, shaw, pish, shaw, 'tis the least Thing in a thousand, thou said thou didst it for my Sake just now, and sure I shou'd return the Kindness, Ingratitude is worse than the Sin of Witchcraft.

_Lar._ Oh! the audacious Strumpet, give me Way, that I may punish the Offence as it deserves. [Francisco _within._

_Fran._ Slaves give me Way, he dies that bars my Entrance.

_Lav._ Ha! 'tis my _Francisco_'s Voice--Oh! blest Minute.

_Lar._ Ha! what Noise is that? [_Help, Murder cry'd within._

_San._ How Murder within and Murder without too, this is a barbarous House, I wish I was safe out on't. _Tristram_ stand by thy Master.

_Tristr._ Oh, Sir, I had rather run with you, for I hate Murder in cool Blood.

_Enter_ Francisco _with his Sword drawn_.

_Lar._ Help within there, murder, you won't murder me Sirrah, ha? [_Enter three or four Servants._] run for the Corregidore, I shall be murder'd in my own House.

_Fran._ No, Sir, this Sword can never hurt the Father of _Lavinia_, nor will my Arm guide it to any Act unjust, nor is it drawn for aught but to defend my Wife.

_Lar._ Impudent Rascal, can'st thou look me in the Face, and know how thou hast injur'd me, thou hast dishonour'd my Daughter.

_San._ Sir, I say no man has dishonour'd her but myself, and I wonder you shou'd tax this honest Gentleman with it.

_Fran._ Ha, Villain! re-call what you have said, or by Heaven 'tis thy last, 'tis safer playing with a Lion, than with Lavinia's Fame. [_Holding his Sword at his Teeth._

_San. Lavinia_'s Fame, what Fame, what makes you so choleric, I thought I shou'd do the Lady a Kindness in it.

_Trist._ Many a Man wou'd have been glad to have got rid of it so.

_Lav._ Humour my Father in what he says, for 'twas my last Stratagem to defer my Marriage. [_Aside to_ Francisco.

_Lar. Lavinia_'s Fame! No Monster, thou hast robb'd, robb'd her of her Fame.

_Fran._ The Wrong my Love has done your fair Daughter, 'tis now too late to wish undone again, but if you please it may be clos'd up yet without Dishonour, I will marry her.

_Lar._ Marry her? she'll have a mighty Bargain of that, marry a Beggar, what Jointure canst thou make her?

_Fran._ I am poor, I must confess, in regard of your large Wealth, but I swear by all Things that can bind, 'twas not your Wealth was the Foundation of true-built Love, it was her single uncompounded self, her self without Addition that I lov'd, which shall ever in my Heart out-weigh all other Womens Fortunes with themselves, and were I great, great as I cou'd wish myself for her Advancement, no such Bar as Fortune's Inequality shou'd stand betwixt our Loves.

_Lar._ Say you so, Sir, why then take her----there hang, drown'd or
starve together, I care not which, but never come within my Doors more.
[_Throws her to him._
[_Exit_ Larich.

_San._ Hey day, what have I lost my Mistress then, why what must I say to my Father, _Tristram_, who'll run stark mad without Hopes of a Grandson?

_Tristr._ Oh, Sir, if this Gentleman had not put in his Claim, here had been one ready to his Hands.

_San._ Ah Pox on't, 'tis damn'd unlucky, but come let's to the Tavern and drink away Sorrow. [_Exeunt._

_Fran._ Come my fair _Lavinia_, and find a Father in thy Husband's Arms, oh thou charming Excellence, thou something better sure than ever Woman was, the matchless Proof that thou hast given of thy Love shall be recorded to Posterity----

_Lav._ It is a matchless one indeed, and I struggled long e'er I cou'd bring myself to own a Deed so distant from my Heart, but it has serv'd my Purpose, and I glory in it now, but my Father's last Words methinks chills my Blood, how shall you like the Yoke without lining think you ha!

_Fran._ Don't wrong my Love _Lavinia_, or think that I can want any
Thing when possest of thee.
_Love shall make up what Fortune does deny,_
_And Love alone shall all our Wants supply._ [Exeunt.

_The_ SCENE _changes to the Street,

Count_ Pirro _and Lord_ Gravello.

_Grav._ Now my Lord she's your's again, _Palante_ dies.

_Pirro._ So noble were the Carriage of the Youths that I could almost pity their hard Sentence.

_Grav._ I admire _Palante_'s Constancy, he seem'd regardless when the Jury pronounc'd his Sentence, as if he feared not Death, but when his Friends came on, I observed the Tears to fall.

_Pirro._ He begg'd very hard to save his Friend.----

_Grav._ And his Friend as eagerly to die with him, truly I think _Clerimont_'s Crime did not deserve Death, but our _Sicilian_ Laws doom all to Death that have but the least Hand in stealing of an Heiress, but see the Lord _Euphenes_, he sticking hard to save his Foster Son, let's avoid him, for I know he'll rail. [_Exit._

_Enter Lord_ Euphenes.

_Euph._ Unhappy poor _Palante_, the Law has cast thee in Spite of all that I could do to save thee, I'd give my whole Estate to rescue thee from Death: In thee methought my lost _Lysander_ liv'd, and in losing thee I'm childless now indeed. I lov'd thee like my own Son, I rescu'd thee from Pyrates, by which my Child was lost.

_Enter_ Alphonso.

_Alphon._ Thus once again from twenty Years Exile.
(Tost by the Storms of Fortune to and fro)
Has gracious Heav'n giv'n me Leave to tread
My native Earth of _Sicily_, and draw
That Air that fed me in my Infancy.

_Euph._ Ha! either my Eyes deceive me or 'tis my good old Friend _Alphonso_.

_Alph._ My Lord _Euphenes_?

_Euph. Alphonso_, welcome to _Sicily_, I thought thee dead with my unhappy Son, or what was worse, in Slavery, where no Intelligence cou'd find thee, for I have us'd my utmost Diligence.

_Alph._ In part you have guess'd aright, for I have been twenty tedious Years in gauling Slavery, for when the _Argives_ surprized the Fort they hurried me on board, and because I made a brave Resistance, they ne'er wou'd give me Leave to offer at my Ransom, so violent was their Hate, but now worn out with Age, unfitting for their Labour, they turn'd me Home, an useless Drone, your Son they put on board another Ship, and by some I heard it rumoured, he being wondrous fair, that they design'd to breed him for the Sultan's Use, but some Years after I heard he was retaken on this Coast.

_Euph._ Ha!

_Alph._ I conceal'd his Name, least the many Conquests you have gain'd against them shou'd have wing'd their Revenge, and made 'em kill the lovely Child, I call'd him _Palante_, have you ever heard of such a one?

_Euph._ Oh all ye immortal Powers, the very same, I took, and is _Palante_ then _Lysander_, and have I found thee once to lose thee ever?

_Alph._ Ha! what means all this?

_Euph._ 'Twas Nature then that worked my Soul, and I by Instinct lov'd him. Oh my _Alphonso_, this Discovery comes too late, and instead of bringing Comfort to my Age, thou hast plung'd me down in deep Despair.

_Alph._ Alas, my Lord, how have I err'd? pray explain yourself.

_Euph._ Oh _Alphonso_! the Youth thou speak'st of I retook from _Argive_ Pirates, I bred him, and tho' not sensible who he was, I lov'd him tenderly: He is this very Day condemn'd for stealing of an Heiress, now judge if my Grief falls not with Weight upon me.

_Alph._ Unfortunate Mischance, is there no Way to save him?

_Euph._ None I fear, but yet I'll try all Means, if my long Service to my Country, my Winter Camps, and Summer Heats, and all my stormy Fate at Sea can plead, I will expand my Deeds as _Rome_'s Consuls did of old, make bare my Breast, and shew my scar'd Bosom to move and raise their Pity.

_I that ne'er mention'd aught my Arm has done,_
_Will now urge all to save my darling Son._ [Exeunt.