Prin.
No, no, my Charlot! I disdain the Motive;
Love is a Flame, too bright, too clear, to burn

As Interests bids it;—What imports it me,
That coward France can shake at sudden Danger!
What are my Father's Fears to my Affections?
Shall I, because this hotbrain'd King of England
Sweeps o'er our Land with War, and Devastation,
Shall I, for That, grow fond of the Destroyer?
Smile at the Waste of his unpunish'd Insolence,
Throw myself Headlong into hostile Arms,
And sell my Peace of Mind, to save my Country?
Rather shall Death possess me, than this Harry.

Char.
O! who can blame you for so just an Anger!
How could your Royal Father think such Ruin?
Such Blasts to nip your Joy?—what! cross the Ocean,
To waste your lovely Youth in a cold Island,
Cloudy, and dull! cut off from all Mankind,
Stormy, and various, as the People's Temper!
While the wide Continent is fill'd with Kings,
Who court your Beauty, and wou'd die to please you.

Prin.
Am I, because they call my Father Sovereign,
To be the Slave, the Property, of France?
Can nothing buy their Peace, but my Undoing?
How nobler were it to quell Rage with Fury!
In Arms to check the bold Invader's Pride,
Meet Storm with Storm, and buckle in a Whirlwind?
Then, if the dire Event swept me away,
My Ruin, tho' 'twere dreadful, would be glorious:
But to hold out a Proffer of my Person,
Poorly, and at a Distance! Hang me out,
Like a shook Flagg of Truce!—oh! 'tis a Meanness,
That shames Ambition, and makes Pride look pale!
Where is the boasted Strength of Manhood, now?
Sooner than stoop to This, were mine the Scepter,
I wou'd turn Amazon;—My Softness hid
In glittering Steel, and my plum'd Helmet nodding
With terrible Adornment, I wou'd meet
This Henry with a Flame more fierce than Love:

Enter Dauphin and Harriet.

Dau.
How's this, my Sister? Fir'd with Rage, and Menace?
What hapless Object has inspir'd this Transport?

Prin.
The Kingdom, Brother; Is it then a wonder,
That I, with due Disdain, receive the News,
That I am doom'd your Victim?

Dau.
You have Reason,
'Tis on that Subject, I would gladly speak,
And wish your private Ear. [Exit Charlot.

Dau.
This gentle Youth,
Th' experienc'd Friend of France, brings some Discovery,
Which nearly touching your lov'd Interest, moves me
To hear th' important Message in your Presence.

Har.
Oh! matchless Pattern of imperial Beauty!
That Heaven, that gave you Charms, protects 'em strongly:
Your Royal Father, the known Friend of Peace,
Still nobly anxious for his Country's Safety,
Sent a late Embassy, and offer'd You:
You, fam'd for Beauty! You, much more a Princess
By your distinguish'd Charms, than by your Birth.

Prin.
'Tis well, young Orator! Flattery, I find,
Is of your Island's Growth; so warm a Vice
Cou'd not, I thought, have brook'd so raw a Climate.

Dau.
On with thy Tale;—If Flattery is a Sin,
Her Mercy has been taught to give it Pardon.

Har.
I need not tell you, how our stubborn Monarch,
Safe in blind Distance, and a Stranger yet
To those all-conquering Eyes, refus'd the Offer;
Refus'd a Gem, whose countless Value, known,
Will make Refusal its own Punishment:
Yet 'twas refus'd.—But when th' Ambassadors
Were, with severe Defiance, sent away,
Henry a sudden Council call'd together;
In which, forgetful of his boasted Plainness,
That open, honest, Heart, he would lay Claim to:

He told his Lords, and gain'd their joint Concurrence,
That, when advanc'd still farther into France,
When Fire, and Sword shou'd spread his Fame before Him,
Means wou'd be found to close with courted Peace,
And wed the Princess with improv'd Conditions;
'Tis true, he cry'd, I hate Her, for her Race,
But what has Love to do in Prince's Weddings?
The Match will serve to lull their Arms asleep;
And, when that fair Occasion smiles upon me,
I'll seize th' unguarded Kingdom—

Dau.
Why, 'tis well!
Forewarn'd by this Intelligence, we'll match Him
With Treasons, which become a Man's Designing:
He weaves the Web too course; not every Will
Is fram'd for Mischief—Policy requires
Spirit, and Thought! mere Blood and Bone can't reach it.

Prin.
You, Brother, may content yourself with That;
But I not brook so well the Shame design'd me;
I am, on Both Sides, then, the Toy of State!
One King's Condition, and the other's Engine!
The Tool, which Harry's Treason is to work with!
Whence shall I borrow Rage to speak my Anger?
O! aid me, all ye Stings of Indignation!
Lend me thy Gall, thou bitter-hearted Jealousy!
And every Fury, that can lash, assist me!
What will my Peacefull Father say to this?
Yes! He has chosen nobly for his Daughter!
Charles has a generous Son-in-Law in Harry:
O France! What lazy Frost has chill'd your Blood?
Where is that Pride of Arms, that boasted Courage,
Which your vain Tongues are swell'd with?—Where's the Soul,
That, in the warlike Gauls, your glorious Ancestors!
Shook the proud World, and sham'd the Roman Cæsars?

If there remains the Shadow of past Glory,
If any Spark yet glimmers in your Breasts,
Of your once furious Fire, Go, down upon Him;
Scatter his Army, like the Wind-driven Sands,
Seize him alive, and bring him me a Prisoner.

Dauph.
Prithee, no more of this vain, Woman's, Raving;
What we can do, we will:—But, for the Marriage;
Spite of this new-given Argument, I fear,
My Father's Love of Peace will force it forward.

Prin.
Sooner shall the two Kingdoms join their Cliffs,
And, rushing with a sudden Bound, together,
Dash the dividing Sea, to wash the Clouds.

Har.
What I have said, Your Highnesses will hold
As a fair Proof, however else unwelcome,
That you have watchful Agents;—well they know
The faithless Henry's Love of Change, and Roving;
And, when they thought, with Pity, on the Crowds,
The countless Crowds, of Beautys, He has ruin'd,
Then scorn'd, and left, for new ones, they grew sad,
And, sighing, told each other, 'twere a Shame,
The lovely Princess shou'd be match'd so ill! Enter Duke of Bourbon.

Bour.
Prince Dauphin! our Designs miscarry widely;
Your needful Presence, only, can support us:
The King, hem'd in with cringing Parasites,
Debates, what Answer shou'd be sent to Henry:
And seems determin'd to propose an Interview
With England's King, a shameful Interview!
To urge this Match!

Har.
O, Madam, strive to cross it;
Or you are lost for ever!—Henry's Eye,
Shou'd he once see You, will reform his Will,
And he'll forego the Crown, to conquer You

Dauph.
Tarry, till I return, with swift Instruction,
What Answer you shall bear our English Friends. [Exeunt Dauphin and Bourbon.

Prin.
—What! and no more, than so? gone thus, and left me
Distracted, unassur'd, and torn with Terrors?
O! perish all the wily Aims of Policy!
These Statesmen's Craft confounds the tortur'd World:
And Truth, and Innocence, are hunted by them.
O! hard Condition ours! twin-born with Greatness!
What infinite Heart's Ease does high Birth lose,
That the low World enjoys!—and what boast we,
Save Ceremony, which low Life has not too?
And, what art Thou? thou, Idol Ceremony?
What else, but Place? Degree? and empty Form?
What drink'st thou of, instead of Homage sweet,
But poison'd Flattery?—O! be sick, vain Greatness,
And bid thy Ceremony give thee Cure?
Canst thou, when thou command'st the Beggar's Knee,
Command the Health of it?—No, thou proud Dream!
Laid in thy high-rais'd, and majestick Bed,
Thou sleep'st less soundly, than the wretched Slave;
Who, with full Body, and a vacant Mind,
Gets him to Rest, cram'd with distressful Bread,
Never sees horrid Night, that Child of Hell!
But sweats in the Sun's Eye, from Rise to Set,
And follows so the ever-rolling Year,
With profitable Labour to his Grave!
And, but for Ceremony, such a Wretch,
Winding up Days with Toil, and Nights with Sleep,
Has greatly the Advantage of a King!
But I neglect the Stranger—Gentle Youth!
Forgive me, that my Sorrows, breaking o'er me,
Half drown'd Remembrance of the Thanks, I owe You;
Why look you sad?—does any Grief oppress you?

Har.
Alas! great Princess! Grief, and I, have, long,
Too long! been join'd—Perhaps, twou'd tire your Ear,
To amuse you with a Tale of private Woe;
Else, I cou'd melt your Pity into Tears,

And force some Sighs, to honour my Distresses:
I have a Sister—Ah! no—I had a Sister!
Whom flattering Lovers call'd her Sex's Wonder!
Deceitfull Henry saw, and, seeing, lov'd Her:
He knelt—he swore—he pray'd—he sigh'd—he threatned—
Like Heaven, he promis'd Joys, beyond expressing:
My Sister, long resisting, felt, at last,
The rising Passion swell her struggling Soul;
The kindled Fire grew stronger by Resistance,
And warm'd her slow Desire to yielding Ruin:
There broke the Charm—the fancied Treasure vanish'd,
And bitter Penitence, and conscious Guilt,
Became the gnawing Vultures of her Bosom;
The treacherous Prince no longer vow'd a Passion,
But basely shun'd the Wretchedness, he caus'd.

Prin.
See if the tender Creature does not weep!
Alas! thy mournful Story fills my Heart,
With Grief, almost as powerfull as thy own;
Trust me, 'twas base in Henry, thus to leave Her.

Har.
O, Princess! He's a general, known, Deceiver!
Far may your Fate divide you from his Wiles!
I cou'd swell Time, and wear away the Sun,
In dismal Stories of his perjur'd Loves. Re-enter the Dauphin.

Dau.
Curses unnumber'd blast the cank'ry Breath
Of yon vile Sycophants!—I came too late;
The mean Resolve was past;—My Arts prevail'd not:
The two Kings meet, and all my Hopes are Air.

Har.
Something must be resolv'd, that may prevent
This dangerous Treaty, or you're lost for ever.

Dau.
Fear not, I'll manage All to our Advantage;
But let us waste no Moments;—Here, within,
I will instruct you further in my Purpose.

  Now Fortune aid me, and inspire my Soul
With Force, these peaceful Counsels to controul;
Meekness, tho' wise, sits, tottering, on a Throne,
And suffering Kingdoms King's false Steps attone;
In me let France her ancient Fire resume,
Or crush me nobly in my Country's Doom. End of the Second Act.

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