To be a tyrant o’er the life you saved?
duke.
Ungrateful woman, thou deservest the name
Of tyrant most, for now I read thy soul,
See through the thin disguise, behold too plainly
My own dishonor, and thy treacherous falsehood:
I know thou lovest another, but whoe’er
He be that thus hath robbed me of thy heart,
Fear thou my love, and tremble at my rage;
For, if he be on earth, I’ll find the traitor,
And tear him from thee: if amidst its horrors
My soul could feel one momentary joy,
’Twould be to make thee wretched.
amelia.
No: my lord,
Indeed it would not; reason will forbid it:
Thy soul’s too noble to oppress with woe
A life which thou hadst saved; but if thy heart
Should ever stoop so low, thy virtues still,
Thy goodness in my memory shall live,
And only thy unkindness be forgotten.
I pity, and forgive thee; thou wilt blush
Hereafter at the thought of injuring me;
Spite of thy threats, my soul is yet unmoved,
Nor dreads thy anger, nor defies thy power.
duke.
Forgive the transports of a mind disturbed,
The rage of love embittered by despair;
Lisois, I find, holds secret conference with you,
Abets you falsehood, and defends your conduct;
Leans to the royal party, and combines
In vain with you to make a convert of me:
It seems I’m to be governed by your will,
And not my own: your converse is the same,
The same your purpose; but why use these arms
Against me? to persuade my easy heart,
Why must Amelia seek a stranger’s aid?
A word will win me, if ’tis spoke by love.
amelia.
My heart, I own, hath opened to thy friend
Its hopes and fears, but he hath done much more
Than he had promised: pity then my tears,
Pity my sorrows, be thyself again;
Subdue a passion which Amelia must not,
Cannot return: accept my gratitude,
’Tis all I have to give thee.
duke.
Lisois, then,
And he alone, enjoys thy confidence,
Thy friendship, more perhaps; I see it now.
amelia.
You may perhaps hereafter, but at present
You have no right, sir, to control my thoughts,
My actions, or my words; no right to blame me,
Or to complain: I sought thy friend’s assistance,
And he has given it me; I wish, my lord,
That you would learn to act and think like him.
SCENE III.
the duke.
[Alone.
’Tis well: this base, ungrateful, perjured woman,
Without a blush, confesses all her falsehood;
The mystery is unfolded now: one friend,
One only friend, I had, and he destroys me.
Friendship! vain phantom, unsubstantial shade,
So often sought for, and so seldom found,
Thou ever hadst some wholesome draught to pour
Into my cup of sorrow; but at last
Thou, too, like love, hast cruelly deceived me!
For the reward of all my errors past
I have but this, that no allurements now,
No flattering pleasures, henceforth shall betray me;
For from this hour I will be fond—of nothing.
But lo! the traitor comes with cruel hand
To tear my wounds, and make them bleed afresh.
SCENE IV.
the duke, lisois.
lisois.
My lord, I come obedient to thy orders:
But why that frown, those eyes of discontent
That scowl upon me? has thy soul, long time
The sport of passion, weighed in reason’s scale
Thy interest, and thy happiness?
duke.
It has.
lisois.
And what was the result?
duke.
My eyes are opened
To falsehood and deceit; I’ve learned to find
A rival and a traitor in my friend.
lisois.
How’s that!
duke.
It is enough.
lisois.
Too much, my lord:
Who is the traitor?
duke.
Canst thou ask me who?
Who but thyself was privy to the wrongs
I have received, who else must answer for them?
I know, Amelia hath conversed with thee
Here, in the palace; when I mentioned thee
She trembled: this affected silence speaks
Your guilt more plainly, and I know not which
Most to abhor, Amelia, or—my friend.
lisois.
Canst thou yet listen to that friend?
duke.
I can.
lisois.
Thinkest thou I still am anxious for my fame?
Dost thou esteem, and canst thou yet believe me?
duke.
I will: for till this hour I thought thee virtuous,
And held thee for my friend.
lisois.
Those noble titles
Have hitherto conducted me through life;
But wherefore justify myself to thee?