The Mysterious Mother/Act 3 Scene 1
ACT the THIRD.
SCENE I.
A small Garden within the Castle, terminated by a long Cloyster, beyond which appear some Towers.
COUNTESS, alone.
The monument destroy'd !—Well! what of that!
Were ev'ry thunderbolt address'd to me,
Not one would miss me. Fate's unerring hand
Darts not at random. Nor, as fractious children
Are chid by proxy, does it deal its wrath
On stocks and stones to frighten, not chastise us.
Omens and prodigies are but begotten
By guilt on pride. We know the doom we merit;
And self-importance makes us think all nature
Busied to warn us when that doom approaches.
Fie! fie! I blush to recollect my weakness.
My Edmund may be dead: the house of Narbonne
May perish from this earth: poor Adeliza
May taste the cup of woe that I have drug'd:
But light'nings play not to announce our sate:
No whirlwinds rise to prophecy to mites:
Nor, like inquisitors, does heav'n dress up
In flames the victims it intends to punish;
Making a holiday for greater sinners.
—Greater! oh! impious! Were the faggots plac'd
Around me, and the fatal torch applied,
What wretch could view the dreadful apparatus,
And be a blacker criminal than I am?
—Perhaps my virtues but enhance my guilt.
Penance attracts respect, and not reproach.
How dare I be esteem'd? Be known my crimes!
Let shame anticipate the woes to come!
—Hah! monster! wouldst disclose the frightful scene?
Wouldst teach the vicious world unheard-of sins,
And be a new apostle of perdition?
—My Edmund too! has not a mother's hand
Afflicted him enough? Shall this curs'd tongue
Brand him with shame indelible, and sting
His honest bosom with his mother's scorpions
Shall Adeliza hear the last of horrors,
E'er her pure breast, that sighs for sins it knows not,
Has learn'd the rudiments of human frailty?
No, hapless maid—
The monument destroy'd !—Well! what of that!
Were ev'ry thunderbolt address'd to me,
Not one would miss me. Fate's unerring hand
Darts not at random. Nor, as fractious children
Are chid by proxy, does it deal its wrath
On stocks and stones to frighten, not chastise us.
Omens and prodigies are but begotten
By guilt on pride. We know the doom we merit;
And self-importance makes us think all nature
Busied to warn us when that doom approaches.
Fie! fie! I blush to recollect my weakness.
My Edmund may be dead: the house of Narbonne
May perish from this earth: poor Adeliza
May taste the cup of woe that I have drug'd:
But light'nings play not to announce our sate:
No whirlwinds rise to prophecy to mites:
Nor, like inquisitors, does heav'n dress up
In flames the victims it intends to punish;
Making a holiday for greater sinners.
—Greater! oh! impious! Were the faggots plac'd
Around me, and the fatal torch applied,
What wretch could view the dreadful apparatus,
And be a blacker criminal than I am?
—Perhaps my virtues but enhance my guilt.
Penance attracts respect, and not reproach.
How dare I be esteem'd? Be known my crimes!
Let shame anticipate the woes to come!
—Hah! monster! wouldst disclose the frightful scene?
Wouldst teach the vicious world unheard-of sins,
And be a new apostle of perdition?
—My Edmund too! has not a mother's hand
Afflicted him enough? Shall this curs'd tongue
Brand him with shame indelible, and sting
His honest bosom with his mother's scorpions
Shall Adeliza hear the last of horrors,
E'er her pure breast, that sighs for sins it knows not,
Has learn'd the rudiments of human frailty?
No, hapless maid—
Enter a Servant.
Madam, young Adeliza
Intreats to speak with you. The lady abbess
Sickens to death.
Madam, young Adeliza
Intreats to speak with you. The lady abbess
Sickens to death.
COUNTESS.
Admit her. Now, my soul,
[Ex. Servant.
Recall thy calm; support alone thy torments;
And envy not the peace thou ne'er must know.
Admit her. Now, my soul,
[Ex. Servant.
Recall thy calm; support alone thy torments;
And envy not the peace thou ne'er must know.