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PROLOGUE to the FATAL EFFECTS of SEDUCTION.
TO tender sympathy t' awake the soul,
To raise the genius and the will controul;
To shew the tendency of guilty love
And from the face of vice the mask remove;
To guide the steps of youth in virtue's way
And bar the paths in which they're apt to stray;
For this, when poets exercise the pen,
They claim the plaudits of the best of men.
Virtue resplendent, sheds her brilliant rays.
And vice, her hedious native form displays.
Long has the stage, in regal pomp array'd,
Grand scenes of suffering majesty display'd:
The deep distress of royalty made known,
Which scarcely bear the likeness of our own;
The gazing crowd with admiration view
The gaudy trapings of the pompous shew:
While scarce a sentiment the scenes impart
To raise the genius or amend the heart.
Our poet of to-night presents a play,
Form'd on the occurrence of a recent day;
A scene of sorrow acted in our land,
Which scarce a child can fail to understand:
He brings the troubles of a youthful maid,
Her virtue lost; Her innocence betray'd:
A scene ye fair, which for your use is pen'd,
By a (perhaps too bold, but) real friend:
Whose only aim was simply to pourtray,
The sad effects, when artful men betray;
To shew whereto such guilty pleasures lead,
How strict a guard the inclinations need,
And what sad scenes from rashness may proceed.
[Page iv]Critics be dumb; be wishes not applause.
He wrote but to subserve fair virtues cause;
But should you snarl, he hopes the fair will
[...],
To grace with pearly drops the magic scene.
[...] they must form his shield to
[...]ight
By virtue's power impress;
And bid the
[...]
On poor
Sophia's
[...].
[Page]
THE FATAL EFFECTS OF SEDUCTION.
Scene Sophia
's Chamber, Severus
's House, in BOSTON.
SOPHIA sitting in a melancholly posture, a book in her hand. After a solemn pause she rises and speaks.
WHAT is this world and all its fleeting joys,—
To me the lustre of its charms are fled▪
And nought remains but sorrow and repentance:
My father, rash
Severus, has determin'd
To call me to a strict account to-morrow,
For all the sorrow bro't upon his house,
All the dishonor cast upon his name,
By my accurst seduction.
"Where is to-morrow? In another world!
"To many this is certain: The reverse is
"Sure to none."
To me, alas! to-morrow seems to open,
On that tremendous scene eternity!
But oh! the sad necessity, that urges
My trembling hand to cut the thread of life,
And put a period to mine own existence.
Dishonored, hasty father, didst thou know,
The dread of heaping sorrow upon sorrow,
Or adding blackness to the infamy
That stains the sullied honor of thy name,
[Page 6]And robs thee of thy peace:
Oh! didst thou know, that this, and this alone,
Urg'd thine unhappy daughter, to conceal
The name and character of her seducer,
Thou wouldst not rashly urge her to a deed,
Vile as she is, must wring thine aching heart,
And drive her aged mother near distraction.
Her sister too, her lovely injured sister.
But hark! Methinks I hear
Lysander's step.
He comes this way: Oh! that we both had died,
E'er guilty love had cover'd us with shame.
Enter Lysander.
Lysan.
When I behold thy weeping eyes,
Sophia,
I sink with shame, I feel the pungent grief,
That wrings thy tender heart almost to bursting.
But well indeed might I thy sorrows feel,
Since mine own wickedness and indiscretion,
Is the accursed source from whence they sprung.
Yet curse me not, I am too curst already!
I feel the hand of Heaven bear heavy on me,
And trembling own my punishment is just.
Yet dear
Sophia, if it be possible,
Avoid the task of publishing our guilt:
In pity to thy sister,—mother,—father,—
Conceal the name of thine accurst seducer.
Sophia.
Oh!
Lysander, hadst thou been form'd
With all the softness of a fickle woman,
Hadst thou been form'd a woman, and a man,
Lovely, intrigueing, artful as thy self,
Had led thy youth astray; despoil'd thy virtue;
Had plung'd thee in the gulph of infamy,
And then requested thee to hide his shame;
While a stern father offered his protection,
Upon no terms but naming thy seducer,
Threat'ned to disinherit and abandon
Thee and thy guiltless child to misery
[Page 7]In case thou didst conceal it;
How wouldst thou then conduct?
Lysan.
Tis difficult to answer thee
Sophia;
Were I alone to suffer in this case,
Were it not deeply to affect thy parents,
Thy steady friend my much dishonored wife,
And give a licence to malignant breath,
To blast their reputation with my own;
I would advise thee, frankly to confess
The author of thy shame before the world▪
Yes, tho' black infamy and foul dishonor
Should blast my reputation; tho' the world
Should hoot me from their converse; as a wretch
Too vile to taint with my polluted breath
The common air; and spurn me as a ruffian;
I think, without repining, I'd endure
This heavy curse to mitigate thy sorrows.
But when I think upon the shame awaits
The circle of our friends, should the sad story
Of our incestuous, unexampled crimes,
Be blazon'd to a rude, unfeeling world;
When I conceive the trembling horror of a
Virtuous wife; too innocent and lovely to endure
So rude a shock of sorrow for my guilt:
A sudden terror seizes on my soul;
Affrighted fancy represents to view,
My dear
Rosanna sinking to the grave,
That grave the untimely product of my guilt:
My tender offspring too—our lovely children,
Unconscious of the nature of their woe,
Raise their swoln eyes toward all-righteous heaven,
And plead for vengeance on the guilty cause:
That cause their wretched father!
Oh Gracious God! oh virtue! virtue! virtue!
What are all earthly joys compar'd to thee!
[Page 8]Possest of thee the soul can find a palace
In a dungeon. When thou art fled,
And leav'st the active conscience
Not callous to contempt and infamy,
How vain are all the baubles of this world
To bouy the mind or keep the heart from sinking.
The soul has lost its ballance, and the wretch,
Deprest with trouble, sorrow, and repentance,
Is curst e'en midst the splendors of a palace.
Soph.
Oh!
Lysander, the picture you have drawn
Is fraught too deep with woe to bear endurance;
Its horror chills my blood, it sinks with weight
E'en to the very centre of my soul,
And fixes my resolve. But hark! my father comes.
Lysan.
Be firm
Sophia: May heaven in mercy deign
To recompence thy firmness by forgiveness.
O may its dreadful anger be appeas'd
By our unfeigned sorrow and repentance:
And may the temporal punishment, decreed
As chastisement for our detested crimes,
Escape thy head, and fail on thy seducer.
Enter Severus.
Sev.
Lysander, though I have ever wish'd
To bid you welcome to my house; and ever
Found your welfare pleasing to my heart;
Yet, for the present, I sincerely wish,
You, and all other of my friends, to leave
This foul polluter of her father's blood
To solitude and her own meditations.
Perhaps some spark of virtue may lie dormant
In her polluted breast—That spark enkindled,
May light her steps to tread the paths of duty;
Force her to yield obedience to a father,
And let him know the author of his shame.
A few short hours alone can intervene,
[Page 9]Between the present instant, and the time
When she must quit her father's house forever;
Unless this just command's complied with.
Lysan.
Forgive me, oh! my father,
While I dare, in very bitterness of soul, remonstrate,
Against this seeming rash determination.
In the events of life, ofttimes it happens,
The greatest sages labour under error;
Perhaps the penetration of my father,
In wisdom more than years, by far, superior
To him who dares call his resolve in question,
May labor under error in this case.
Should you proceed with less precipitation
Some happier hour may lead her to comply
And make the author of her ruin known.
Or time may show it was not stubbornness
Or disaffection, but pity to yourself,
Your family, and dearest friends,
Occasioned this reserve.
Sev.
No more, no more,
Lysander,
Another sentence uttered in excuse
Of this unwarrantable disobedience
Would sink Lysander too in my esteem,
And make my daughter's husband seem a foe.
I've fix'd, establish'd my determination,
The wretch shall be exposed; I'll follow him
Even to earth's remotest bounds; to avenge
The sullied honor of my name; and heap
The vengeance of a father on his head.
Lysan.
O pardon me my father.
Sev.
Away, no more! away!
Lysan.
In duty I withdraw,
Oh!
[...] heaven!
[...] i
[...]e how just
How
[...]!
Exit
Lysander.
Sophia.
[Page 10]
Oh Sir! oh Father! if a dishonored girl
May dare to call thee by that tender name
Sev.
Be dutiful; proclaim before the world
The name of thy seducer, or I disclaim,
The title of a father; I'll banish from my mind,
Parental love, and pity for thy sorrows▪
Root thee from my remembrance, and esteem thee
A base, deceiving, loose, abandoned prostitute.
Sophia.
Fall'n as I am, in your esteem,
Did any but my father use this language,
I'd scorn his words and him. No, no; my father,
I am not formed to brook such epithets,
Though death and horror stare me in the face.
This unexpected stroke, oh! righteous heaven,
Inflicted by my father! has removed
The clouds of doubt that hovered round my soul.
Perhaps, when death has seal'd mine eyes,
The grave untimely entered, may convince,
Even you, my father, I had not wholly lost
Those sentiments, you fondly used to say
Form'd the best ornament of your
Sophia.
Sev.
'Tis cozening all— 'tis dam'd dissimulation
The blandishment and witchcraft of your sex.
I ask but what is reasonable; vile wanton,
And I will be obeyed.
Exit
Severus.
Sophia.
My fate is then decreed,
The scene tremendous now opens to my view,
But by what means;
Peace, peace, thou coward conscience,
And thou base palpitating heart lye still.
Ye had not courage jointly to withstand
The wicked arts, or the alluring charms,
Or the too lovely, ever lov'd
Lysander.
Why then, when death's become a virtue
When existence is every hour embittered by
[Page 11]Reflection, why should you now unite your force
To shake the stedfast resolution of my soul?
Your strugglings now are vain,
As then they fail'd.
END of the first ACT.
ACT II. Scene I.
A Room in SEVERUS's
House, the Family, except SOPHIA
present.
SEVERUS.
STILL am doom'd to wretchedness and sorrow
On the account of this abandoned girl.
Matilda.
Lysander has informed me, he incurred
Your anger, by his conduct yesterday,
In interceding with you for
Sophia.
I ever have been urgent as yourself,
To find the base seducer of our daughter,
But, while I yield to your superior judgment,
My mind misgives me, that there must be reasons
And very cogent reasons for her conduct.
Severus.
Reasons! what reasons can she have?
Ought I to treat her like a daughter,
Whilst she holds a villain's character
A base seducer's, more sacred than the honour
Of her father? No, my
Matilda.
The traitor shall be published to the world,
No name, no place; no title shall secure him.
I will pursue him and avenge upon him
The slur he's cast on us.
Rosanna
Much honored father bear with me a moment,
[Page 12]Impute it not to disrespect, that I,
Sharing the griefs of my unhappy sister;
Presume to plead in her behalf, and urge,
The dreadful consequences which I fear
May flow from your displeasure.
Sophia is a girl of resolution,
When but a child the firmness of her conduct,
Has cast the maidens of her age at distance:
Yet while her firmness was remarkable,
She lent a most attentive ear to reason,
And ever strove to found her resolutions
On the firm base of equity and virtue.
But when they were establish'd
No power appear'd sufficient to disturb them.
Virtue has many a labyrinth my father,
Whose windings are impervious to the view;
And even in this her seeming obstinacy,
There may be unadulterated virtue:
Bear with her then; spare her a little longer;
Indulge her oh! my father! in this one point,
Nor drive her on to acts of desperation.
Remember, sir, you oftentimes have told us,
The first offence may spring from indiscretion,
Those that come after are the fruit of guilt.
Lysander.
O sir, I feel as if the voice of Heaven,
Join'd in the pray'r—O mitigate your anger,—
Mercy becomes the office of a father;
The eternal father—infinite in mercy,
Holds out his loving kindness to transgressors,
And with long suffering bears the most obdurate.
Matil.
Suppose,
Severus, since our children pray;
Children, who from their dutiful behaviour
Have an undoubted right to expect indulgence
As far as parents ought to condescend)
[...] we banish our offending child
[Page 13]To some obscure retreat, there to remain
In solitude, and suffer our displeasure,
Till sense of duty prompts her to obedience.
Lys.
I thank thee, madam, from my soul I thank thee,
Oh! my dear Father, you are, as Heaven's vice-gerent,
Set to guard the family intrusted to your care,
Guard them from vice, and shew the paths of honor.
This most important task, far as a man
Of strict integrity and unstain'd virtue
Could execute, you've piously discharged.
'Till late your children, form'd by your example,
Virtue for virtue showed and grace for grace;
And in no case appear'd beneath their father,
Save in maturity and strength of judgment:
Even the offending. miserable
Sophia,
For purity of thought and virtuous manners,
For solid judgment and high sense of duty
Appear'd to soar above her sex—and seem'd
As ready to receive the least impression
And in all cases mould her will to thine,
As is the unsullied mirror to reflect
The object plac'd before it.
She never, sir, could lose her filial love
And banish duty from her breast at once.
There is, there must be, some peculiar cause,
Some wretched scene of misery and shame
Induces her to hide this fatal secret.
Heaven sheds its mercy on repenting sinners,
And grants a gracious season for repentance:
As heaven's vice gerent, oh! my father, deign,
Oh! deign to spare your child a little longer,
And save her from distraction.
Severus.
What is it thus unreasonably alarms
[Page 14]Am I a ruffian void of sense and reason,
Am I a fool that ye address me thus?
Is it so hard a thing that I request,
As gives ye fear she cannot live to do it?
Is it not reasonable and right,
That she who has brought dishonor on my name,
Should let me know my foe, That I may shun
Him and his race, or get due satisfaction
For my wrong? It is the height of reason,
And this day, this very hour I'll know
The villain's name. I am resolved
And I will be satisfied. In half an hour
Prepare to meet me in the parlour, where
A number of our friends await our coming,
To hear the scandal publish'd.
Lysander.
Permit me, oh! my father,
On my bended knees, on knees that never bent
To man before, to supplicate your favor,
Let me but see my sister for a moment,
And here I pledge my life, my sacred honor,
She shall reveal the name of her seducer,
To thee, alone, within a single hour.
Sev.
I will not hear the secret by myself:
My shame is public, and my friends shall hear
The villain's name exposed
Lysander.
For heaven's sake consider—
Fathers have been too rash, and have repented
In tears of blood their hasty resolutions:
You Sir, I fear, rush on to needless sorrow
And severe repentance.—But if you still
Are bent on this proceedure, if you will not
Recede in any manner from your purpose,
Oh! let me ward the torrent from my sister;
Let all your wrath henceforth devolve on me,
I ask no grace—Pursue me e'en to death,
[Page 15]Spare but Sophia, and my expiring breath
Shall bless thee—My blood shall wash away
The stain—I dare to say no more.
Severus.
This conduct is misterious and perplexing—
Why should you suffer for another's guilt?
Or will the nature of her crime admit
The mode of satisfaction you prescribe?
Do you not promise what you can't perform?
Can you command her where her father fails?
If so she estimates your good esteem
Beyond my love, and forfeits my regard.
I shall not change my mind. My friends are met
Attend me to the parlour.
Exit all but Lysander.
LYSANDER, solus.
Rash, rash, unhappy man!
Abandon'd, curst seducer! Ruthless villain!
See here the full extent of human guilt!
A father frantic; an aged tender mother
Verging with grief to an untimely grave,
And an unhappy maid forever ruin'd,
Depriv'd of virtue, rob'd of balmy peace,
Of friends and love parental—and this sorrow,
This dreadful scene of agonizing sorrow,
The product of thy hell deserving lust,
The purchase of a moment. Oh!
Sophia!
To reinstate thee in thy parents love,
To wash away the memory of thy guilt,
And calm thy torturing sorrows into peace;
How freely would I yield my guilty frame,
To endure the rudest shock of human torture.
—What can be done—Yes. yes, it shall be so,
I'll take a dagger with me—If I fail,
To bring
Severus to more easy terms,
[Page 16]Then, as the last resource—to save
Sophia,
I'll publicly avow my brutal guilt,
And plunge it in my breast.
End of the Second Act.
ACT III.
Scene Sophia
's chamber. A bowl of poison on the table before her.
Solemn Music and a Song sung by Sophia.
WHEN
the arts of insidious love.
Persuade the unwarry to stray,
What penance the guilt can remove,
Or wash the dishonor away.
The lovely are loath'd and contem'd—
Melancholy usurps her domain,
The fair one by all is condemn'd—
What cure can she find for her pain.
The only alternative left,
When her virtue and honor's no more,
When of pity and friends she's bereft,
Te the valley of Death to explore:
There at rest with the peaceable dead,
When her friends the sad hillock pass by,
Sweet pity its tribute shall shed,
And the tear shall embellish the eye.
SOPHIA.
[Page 17]
"Music has charms to sooth the savage breast▪
"To soften rocks, and bend the knotted oak."
Thus says the Poet—Oh! delusive theme!
How vain are all the charms of music,
To calm the sullen sorrows of the soul,
Or cleanse the bosom of that perilous stuff,
That preys upon the heart.
—Is this my dying hour,?—Well be it so—
My soul, my honor, Has been long since dead.
And this poor miserable carcase is so worn
With sorrow, that its final dissolution,
Is but a trifling pitiful affair.
To die! What is it but to ease the heart ache—
To erase the deep wrote troubles of the mind,
And let the soul free from a loathsome clog.
The brave despise its terrors—paltry cowards
Opprest by phantoms
[...]
Die many times —the brave see death but once,
And then, so slight is their acquaintance,
They scarce recognize him as King of Terrors.
—Let me a moment reckon my account
And see how matters stand between me and the world.
Sealing a letter.
—This is a solemn farewell to my mother,
O heaven support her—give her strength
To bear so rude a shock of adverse fortune:
The sluices of mine heart are open for her,
They pour embittered streams—
My tears would flow, in pity of her woes,
But the sad fountain of mine eyes are dry.
This to my sister—my dear, much injured,
Highly valued sister—Oh! may she see,
Whole years of joy for every hour of grief;
[Page 18]And to complete her bliss▪ may my seducer,
Remain forever hid; May true repentance,
Restore his joys, and gain him peace with Heaven,
And may my sufferings expiate the crime.
These debts of friendship cancell'd, my account,
Is clos'd with this vain world.
My friends, no doubt, will mourn my hapless fate,
When I am past the reach of their condolence.
My father too, the dreadful instrument,
Just heaven has chosen to enforce this draught,
I fondly hope, when death has seal'd mine eyes,
Will sometimes soften into pity for me,
And when he views the trifling things I leave,
Will say with tears of sweet compassion,
This or the other was my poor
Sophia's.
Then oh! my GOD, may guardian angels pour
The balm of peace upon his wounded heart,
[...] traces from his brain.
Come welcome poison more pleasing to my taste,
Than the cool fountain to the thirsty swain,
Sweet antidote to all my worldly cares.
She takes the bowl.
Vain world farewell▪—May my untimely end,
Prove serviceable to my sex.
Drinks the poison.
Scene changes to a room in the house, the family and a circle of friends present.
SEVERUS.
MY friends upon a sorrowful occasion
Have I requested your attendance,
At this time—You doubtless all have heard
[Page 19]Of the misconduct of my youngest daughter;
A crime augmented by undutiful behaviour,
In wickedly persisting to conceal
The name of her seducer, For this crime
I have threaten'd to abandon her forever,
And am resolved to execute my threats,
In ease she obstinately should refuse
To name the author of her shame,
Before the present circle.
Rosanna.
Once more, permit me sir, to intercede,
And plead the cause of my unhappy sister:
A chilling terror runs thro' every vein,
When I reflect upon the events I dread.
Indulge me with your patience, to relate,
A scene of dreadful misery and horror
That lately past in my imagination.
'Twas at the dark and solemn hour of midnight,
When my sad eyes had ceased to pour their streams
To the remembrance of my sister's woes;
Metho't a circle of your friends were met
To hear the author of her sorrows named:
You gave the dreadful mandate for her coming,
When lo, my husband standing from his chair,
Exclaim'd it is too much — I die to save
Sophia,
Then fell upon his sword—The gushing blood,
O'erspread the floor, but seem'd to centre,
Where you my father sat—My aged mother
Distracted ran to call the sad
Sophia,
To explain the mystery of
Lysander's words,
But soon a dreadful shriek made manifest
Sophia was no more—She to avoid a scene,
By far more dreadful to her mind than death
Had ended her existence—the purple current
Gush'd from her wounds, dropt on thy head,
Then mingled with
Lysander's.
[Page 20]I scream'd with horror, shield me oh! my God!
My husband and my sister both are slain,
And my too hasty father is the cause.
Lysander,
Caught me in his trembling arms— I awoke,
Thrice happy to perceive was all a dream.
Yet such a dream it was, as to this hour,
Has left a deep impression on my mind,
And fills my heart with dreadful apprehensions.
Sev.
Rosanna, when a dream, an idle phantom,
The offspring of disturb'd imagination,
Can shake the resolution of thy father
After mature deliberation form'd
Then may'st thou deem him a poor simple fool▪
Come my friends, attend us to the parlour.
Matilda, bid
Sophia leave her chamber,
And yield me due obedience.
Exit Severus.
Scene Sophia's
chamber. Sophia
in the agonies of death.
SOPHIA.
NOW, now—the fever rages,
The soul disorder'd flies from vein to vein,
To escape the earthly clog. Oh! pain,
Pain, pain! Oh! torture inexpressible!
My veins are dry — mine eye balls
Cease to move—Oh! gracious Heaven!
Receive an over burthern'd, hasty sinner!
Comfort, support my parents. Oh!
My mother! Pray, pray for me!—
Heaven comfort and support thee.
Farewell! farewell! forever. Oh! oh!
Dies.
Enter Matilda.
Matilda.
Help! help! for God's sake help!
[Page]Oh! my
Sophia! oh fatal, fatal poison!
Oh
Severus! Rash, rash unhappy father,
Oh!
Matilda swoons.
Enter Severus,
and Company.
Severus.
Just heaven!—I give my resolution up!
Oh! 'tis too late! My wife—my daughter!
Oh! heaven forbid! alas it is too late!
Pale, pale and lifeless—oh! gone, gone, gone,
Forever gone—And I the fatal cause:
Can heaven have comfort in reserve for me!
Its darling attribute is mercy—and I,
Oh torturing thought! I spurn'd it from my breast;
And for the first offence have slain my child.
Sophia, oh
Sophia! Would, would to God
That I had died for thee!
Enter Lysander
distractedly.
Lysander.
Abandon wretch! Curst paracide!
This is the fruit of thine attrocious guilt!
Poison! oh welcome!
Lysander takes the bowl▪
What not a single drop!
dashes the bowl from him.
This then shall do thee justice!
Lysander
seizes his dagger and attempt to
[...] himself. Rosanna
and attendants seize and disarm him.
Rosanna.
What means
Lysander!
What mean you, oh my husband!
Oh heavens my friends disarm him!
Lysander.
Off! Let me go!
What! would you spare a paricide!
Are ye all enemies to common justice?
Give me my dagger—I'll avenge
Sophia,
I'll do her justice on a dam'd assassin,
And let
Severus glut his vengeful soul!
Exeunt Omnes.
[Page]
EPILOGUE.
LADIES and Gentlemen, with leave, I'd say,
A word or two, to Epilogue the play.
Our Poet, (I beseech his worship's grace,
Perhaps I'm blaming him before his face):
But to my youthful fancy it appears,
Tho' his sad scenes may leave the house in tears.
He in the plot, or execution, errs.
For instance, does a single scene disclose
The stratagems produc'd
Sophia's woes?
Or does the Poet paint
Lysander's wiles,
By which, at length, her virtue be beguiles;
Or show the noble struglings of her soul,
While gentle virtue bore supreme controul,
Ere vice had cast its shade upon the whole?
Had he done this, it might have taught the fair
Of projects similar to have been aware:
And when, in future, artful men had strove
To urge them on to scenes of lawless love,
Forewarn'd, they likewise might have been forearm'd,
Vice dropt its mask, and virtue stood alarm'd.
But, stop—methinks I hear the scribler say—
Softly young miss,—let reason have fair play,
I've shown
Lysander was a man of parts,
Form'd, (if inclin'd) to endanger female hearts:
Handsome, engaging, artful, debonaire,
The very thing the incautious to ensnare;