The Mirror of Taste, and Dramatic Censor Part 18

you despaired of succour; you doubted the goodness of Providence; and at that very moment heaven had commissioned me to comfort and preserve you.

_Venoni._ What are you? what mean you? speak, oh, speak!

_Lod._ Like yourself, I am the object of Clestino's hatred; like yourself was I condemned to descend alive into the tomb. Mark me, young man. I knew well, that between these vaults and those belonging to the adjoining convent there existed various private communications-- the faint hope of discovering one of them formed the only amus.e.m.e.nt of my solitary hours: I sought it-- I persevered-- youth, I have found it--

_Venoni._ Have found it? go on, for heaven's sake.

_Lod._ Have found it here; found it, where its existence is probably unknown even to the prior, since he selected this dungeon for your confinement-- observe this private door-- (_opening it_) this pa.s.sage leads to a closed portal; its fastnings are ma.s.sy-- I endeavoured but in vain to force them; that bar, which I wrenched from my dungeon door--

_Venoni._ That bar? tis mine! I have it! come father, come! to the portal!

_Lod._ Alas, my son! the ponderous fastenings-- the bolts-- the bars will resist!

_Venoni._ Oh, talk not to me of resistance! what force can oppose the efforts of a lover, a frantic desperate lover! father, there was a maiden-- how fair she was, nothing but thought can imagine-- how I adored her, nothing but this heart can feel! father, this maiden-- they tore her from me, they murdered her-- murdered her barbarously-- tis for her sake that I wish for liberty! tis to avenge her murder that I go to labour; and can you doubt my success? no, no! that thought will turn my blood into consuming fire, will harden every nerve into iron, will endow every limb, every joint, every muscle with vigour and strength and powers herculean-- come, father, come.

_Lod._ Oh! that I could! but age-- but infirmity-- go, go, my son, I will remain, and pray for you.

_Venoni._ What? go, and leave you still in the power of your foe! never, never!

_Lod._ Dear generous youth, you must! I should but impede your flight; I should but mar your exertions. Away then! effect your own escape-- then return, and rescue me, if possible-- but should you find me dead, oh! believe, that it will have sweetened the bitter hour to think, that my existence lasted long enough to preserve yours.

_Venoni._ Thou good old man--

_Lod._ Yet one word! should you force the portal, and reach the interior of the Ursuline convent in safety, shape your course towards the garden: the wall is low-- to scale it is easy and--

_Venoni._ Enough! and now-- (_going_)

_Lod._ And when you are free-- when smiling, friends surround you-- when all for you is liberty, and peace and happiness, do not-- oh! do not quite forget, that a poor captive, languis.h.i.+ng in his solitary cell--

_Venoni._ Forget you? never! by that life which you now give me, never; I swear it! once at liberty, my first care shall be to effect your rescue, my second to secure your happiness. Oh! surely if aught in life is sweet it is when the heart overflows with grat.i.tude, and the hand has the power to perform what that grateful heart dictates and desires: oh!

surely if there is aught which gives mortals a foretaste of the bliss of angels, it is when affection brings a smile upon the furrowed cheeks of those to whom we are indebted for our existence. Tis to you that I owe that gift; and while I have life, never will I forget that it is to you I owe it. Now then away! one embrace: one blessing: then pray for me, father, pray for me, and farewell!

[Exit with the lamp.

_Lod._ (_alone_) Spirits who favour virtue oh! strengthen his arms! aid him! support him! hark he is at the door! I hear him! again, and again!

repeat the blow! hark, hark, it breaks, it s.h.i.+vers! and see--

_Venoni_, appearing above with the lamp.

_Venoni._ Freedom, freedom, freedom, friend, farewell! I speed to rescue you.

[Exit.

_Lod._ Fly, fly! you bear with you my blessing! (_kneeling_) Heaven, I adore and thank you! I have preserved a fellow creature's life.

[The scene closes.

SCENE II-- _an anti-chamber in the viceroy's palace._

Enter _Benedetto_, _Carlo_, _Pietro_, &c.

_Ben._ Here, Pietro! Carlo! where are you all? they call for more iced water! the supper-room is not half lighted-- and Carlo, Carlo, bless my heart! I had almost forgotten! Carlo, take three of your fellows, and help to bring out the fat countess of Calpi, who has just fainted away in the ball room.

[Exeunt servants.

What heat! what a crowd! nay, for that matter the fat countess of Calpi is a crowd of herself, and though it were the depth of winter, her presence would raise the thermometer to "boiling water." Well! I must say, it's mighty inconsiderate in corpulent people to come abroad in sultry weather; and if I were a senator, I'd make it high treason for persons above a certain weight to squeeze themselves into public places after the first of May.

Enter _Teresa_.

So, Teresa! gay doings! lord bless their elbows, how the fiddlers are shaking them away in the ball room.

_Te._ Gay in truth. But good-lack! it only serves to make me melancholy by reminding me, how the dear lady Josepha would have ornamented such an entertainment! I see the marchioness is here: well! how she can find spirits to enter scenes of gayety--

_Ben._ Nay, nay, Teresa, the viceroy insisted on her coming; but though the scene around her is gay, that her heart is sad is but too evident.

_Te._ Ah! and well it may be sad-- after shutting her daughter up in the convent where she caught that fatal malady--

_Ben._ Could she foresee that? and why lay all the blame upon the marchioness? surely the marquis is almost as culpable for consenting that--

_Te._ By no means, Benedetto, by no means; the marquis only did what every sensible man ought to do; he obeyed his wife-- but as for the marchioness-- oh! I have no patience with her!

_Ben._ So it appears, Teresa; and shall I tell you why? because the marchioness is a woman, and you are a woman too: now I've always observed that when a female has done wrong, she ever meets with least indulgence from persons of her own s.e.x; and whenever I want to hear the foibles of one woman properly cut up, I never fail to ask another woman what she thinks of them.

_Ser._ (_without_) Benedetto, Benedetto!

_Ben._ Coming, coming! [Exit.

_Te._ Well, there is one thing that seems to me very strange; Benedetto has certainly an excellent understanding-- and yet he isn't always of my opinion-- now that appears to me quite unaccountable. (_going_)

Father _Michael_ rushes in out of breath.

_Mi._ Heaven be praised! then I am arrived at last.

_Te._ A friar! your business, father?

_Mi._ Tis with the viceroy; good daughter, lead me to him this instant.

_Te._ This instant? oh, mercy on me, you can't see him tonight, if you'd give your eyes.

_Mi._ I must, I tell you! I must! my business is of such importance, that--

Enter _Benedetto_.

_Ben._ Why, Teresa! dawdling here, while the maids--

[Exit Teresa.

_Mi._ Tis the same! how fortunate!-- worthy old man--