The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 04Dryden, John
General
The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 04
Dryden, John
English literature
_Duke._ O Frederick, you are too much a son, [_Embracing him._
And I too little am a father: you,
And you alone, have merited Lucretia;
'Tis now my only grief,
I can do nothing to requite this virtue:
For to restore her to you,
Is not an act of generosity,
But a scant, niggard justice; yet I love her
So much, that even this little, which I do,
Is like the bounty of an usurer;
High to be priz'd from me,
Because 'tis drawn from such a wretched mind.
_Fred._ You give me now a second, better life; [_Kissing his hand._
But,--that the gift may be more easy to you,--
Consider, sir, Lucretia did not love you,--
I fear to say, ne'er would.
_Duke._ You do well to help me to o'ercome that difficulty:
I'll weigh that, too, hereafter. For a love,
So violent as mine, will ask long time,
And much of reason, to effect the cure.
My present care shall be to make you happy;
For that will make my wish impossible,
And then the remedies will be more easy.
_Enter_ SOPHRONIA, LUCRETIA, VIOLETTA, LAURA, HIPPOLITA.
_Soph._ I have, with joy, o'erheard this happy change,
And come with blessings to applaud your conquest
Over the greatest of mankind, yourself.
_Duke._ I hope 'twill be a full and lasting one.
_Luc._ Thus, let me kneel, and pay my thanks and duty, [_Kneeling._
Both to my prince and father.
_Duke._ Rise, rise, too charming maid, for yet I cannot
Call you my daughter: that first name, Lucretia,
Hangs on my lips, and would be still pronounced.
Look not too kindly on me; one sweet glance,
Perhaps, would ruin both: therefore, I'll go
And try to get new strength to bear your eyes.
'Till then, farewell. Be sure you love my Frederick,
And do not hate his father. [_Exeunt Duke and_ VALERIO.
_Fred._ [_At the door._] Now, friends, you may appear.
_Enter_ AURELIAN, CAMILLO, BENITO.
Your pardon, madam, that we thus intrude
On holy ground: yourself best know it could not
Be avoided, and it shall be my care it be excused.
_Soph._ Though sovereign princes bear a privilege
Of entering when they please within our walls,
In others 'tis a crime past dispensation;
And therefore, to avoid a public scandal,
Be pleased, sir, to retire, and quit this garden.
_Aur._ We shall obey you, madam; but that we may do it with less
regret, we hope you will give these ladies leave to accompany us.
_Soph._ They shall.
And, nieces, for myself, I only ask you
To justify my conduct to the world,
That none may think I have betrayed a trust,
But freed you from a tyranny.
_Lau._ Our duty binds us to acknowledge it.
_Cam._ And our gratitude to witness it.
_Vio._ With a holy and lasting remembrance of your favour.
_Fred._ And it shall be my care, either by reason to bend your uncle's
will, or, by my father's interest, to force your dowry from his hands.
_Ben._ [_To_ AUR.] Pray, sir, let us make haste over these walls
again; these gardens are unlucky to me; I have lost my reputation of
music in one of them, and of wit in the other.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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