'Tis not in me to master so my Paffions; Without Controul or Curb; nay more, invited Bapt. As no Doubt the will. Math. Thofe Doubts must be made Certainties, By your Affurance, or your boasted Art [Baptifta, Deferves no Admiration. How you trifle And play with my Affliction! I'm on The Rack, till you confirm me. I am no God, nor can I dive into Her hidden Thoughts, or know what her Intents are; E'en from the Devils themfelves: They can but guefs, Math. I defire no more. Bapt. Take then this little Model of Sophia, With more than human Skill limn'd to the Life; Each Line and Lineament of it in the Drawing So punctually obferv'd, that, had it Motion, In fo much 'twere herself. Math. An admirable Piece; but if it have not Some hidden Virtue that I cannot guefs at, Bapt. I'll inftruct you. Carry it ftill about you, and as oft As you defire to know how the's affected, But unattempted; but if once it vary From the true Form, and what's now White and Red She's with all Violence courted, but unconquer'd. Is forc'd, or with her free Confent, surrender'd. Nothing can be more fantaftick, or more in the extravagant Strain of the Italian Novels, than this Fiction: And yet the Play raised on it is extremely beautiful, abounds with affecting Situations, true Character, and a faithful Reprefentation of Nature. The Story, thus opened, proceeds as follows: Mathias departs, accompanied by his Friend, and ferves as a Volunteer in the Hungarian Army against the Turks. A complete Victory being obtained, chiefly by Means of his Valour, he is brought by the General to the Hungarian Court, where he not only receives many Honours from the King, but captivates the Heart of the Queen; whofe Paffion is not fo much excited by his known Valour, or perfonal Attractions, as by his avowed Conftancy to his Wife, and his firm Affurance of her reciprocal Affection and Fidelity to him. Thefe Circumftances touch the Pride, and raise the Envy of the Queen. She refolves therefore to deftroy his conjugal Faith by giving up her own, and determines to make him a VOL. II. desperate T defperate Offer of her Perfon; and, at the fame Time, under Pretence of Notice of Mathias's being detained for a Month at Court, the difpatches two young Noblemen to tempt the Virtue of Sophia. Thefe Incidents occafion feveral affecting Scenes both on the Part of the Hufband and Wife. Mathias (not with an unnatural and untheatrical Stoicifm, but with the livelieft Senfibility) nobly withstands the Temptations of the Queen. Sophia, though moft virtuously attached to her Husband, becomes uneafy at the feigned Stories which the young Lords recount to her of his various Gallantries at Court, and in a Fit of Jealoufy, Rage, and Refentment, makes a momentary Refolution to give up her Honour. While the is fuppofed to be yet under the Dominion of this Refolution, occurs the following Scene between the Husband and his Friend. MATHIAS and BAPTISTA. Nor Hope left to come off, but by your yielding Math. What, my Baptifta? Bapt. We are but dead elfe. Math. Were the Sword now heav'd up, When Innocence is our Guide; yet know, Baptifta, By the Great Judge. To die untainted in 5 Qur < Our Fame and Reputation is the greatest ; [The Picture altered. This is a terrible Vision! I will clear My Eyefight, perhaps Melancholy makes me Bapt. It is too apparent. I grieve to look upon't; befides the Yellow, Math. She is turn'd Whore. Yet as a Friend to Truth, if you will have me Math. Fact! Baptifta? Make not yourself a Pandar to her Loofeness, In labouring to palliate what a Vizard Of Impudence cannot cover. Did e'er Woman In her Will decline from Chastity, but found Means To give her hot Luft full Scope? It is more Poffible in Nature for grofs Bodies Defcending of themfelves, to hang in the Air, A falling Tower; nay, in its violent Course T 2 Hurried Hurried by two Furies, Luft and Faithood, Of this Condition, can it be in Man Bapt. You may yet (And 'tis the beft Foundation) build up Comfort On your own Goodness. Math. No, that hath undone me, For now I hold my Temperance a Sin Worfe than Excefs, and what was Vice a Virtue. [ed (Whofe ravishing Beautics at the firft Sight had tempt- My Death with Torture, fince fhe could inflict Such a Return from Thee? I will not curfe Thee, |