I tremble at this new alliance: Spain
Before you stands a terrible example:
These savage plunderers, these new tyrants dig
Our graves with our own hands. ’Twere better far
To yield with prudence.
duke.
What, fall down and sue
For mercy!
lisois.
Your true interest long forgotten—
duke.
Revenge is my first interest.
lisois.
Love and anger
Too long have ruled the bosom of my friend.
duke.
I know they have, but cannot conquer nature.
lisois.
You may, you ought; nay, I’ll not flatter you,
But even though I condemn, I’ll follow thee;
’Tis a friend’s duty to point out the faults
Of him he loves; to counsel, to exhort,
To save him from the dangerous precipice:
This I have done for thee, but thou wilt fall,
And I must perish with thee.
duke.
O my friend,
What hast thou said?
lisois.
But what I ought to say:
And would to heaven that thou hadst listened to me!
What dost thou purpose?
duke.
When my ardent hopes
Shall be fulfilled, when the ungrateful maid
Shall give sweet peace to my distracted mind,
Then will I hear the counsels of my friend.
What can I purpose now, or what design,
Till I have seen the tyrant who must guide
My future fate? let her determine for me,
Let her save me, and I will save my country.
End of the First Act.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
the duke of foix.
[Alone.
She cannot sure again refuse to see me,
And urge me to despair! she dare not do it:
Fool that I am to give her thus the power;
How weak is my proud heart to yield itself
A voluntary slave! go, throw thyself,
Mean as thou art, beneath the tyrant’s feet;
Go, make thy life dependent on a word,
A look, a smile, from proud Amelia; pass
From love to fury, and from tears to rage;
’Tis the last time I e’er will speak to her.
I go—
SCENE II.
the duke, amelia and thais advancing from the upper end of the stage.
amelia.
There’s hope, my Thais; yet I tremble.
Would Vamir hazard this bold enterprise?
’Tis full of danger; ha! what do I see?
[Advancing towards the Duke.
duke.
Amelia, what hath this way led thy steps
I know not, but thy eyes too plainly tell me
That I was not the object of their search:
What! still turn from me, still insult the heart
That dotes upon thee! cruel tyrant, thus
To blast the laurels planted on my brow:
O if Amelia’s hand had placed them there
They might have flourished, but she has forgot
Her plighted faith, and broke her flattering promise.
amelia.
Thou never hadst my faith, I never gave
Thee promise, gratitude is all I owe thee.
duke.
Did I not offer thee my hand?
amelia.
Thou didst:
It was an honor which I could not merit,
And which I never sought, but I received it
With due respect; you thought, no doubt, a rank
So glorious must have dazzled poor Amelia.
At length, my lord, ’tis time to undeceive you;
I do it with regret, because I know
It will offend you, but I must be plain:
In short, my lord, I love my king too well
To think of wedding with his foe: thy blood,
I know, is noble; mine is spotless yet,
Nor will be stained with foul disloyalty,
And I inherit from my ancestors
The fixed abhorrence of my country’s foes:
Nor will I e’er acknowledge for a master
The friend of tyrants, be he e’er so great:
Such is my firm resolve; perhaps, my lord,
It may seem harsh, but you obliged me to it.
duke.
This is a language, madam, which I own
I looked not for; I never could have thought
That angry heaven, to make me doubly wretched,
Would choose Amelia for its instrument
Of vengeance: you have studied long in secret
The arts of black ingratitude, of scorn
And insult, and now open all your heart.
I was a stranger to this patriot zeal,
This most heroic ardor for thy country,
This fetch of policy; but tell me, madam,
Whom have you here but this insulted lover,
The injured Foix, to succor and support you?
Thou hast reproached me with my new alliance,
Those faithful friends on whom I here rely
For all my safety, and for all my power:
Without their aid thou hadst been still a captive;
To them you owed your liberty and life,
And am I thus rewarded?
amelia.
You prolonged
My wretched days; but are they therefore yours,
And may I not dispose them as