SCENE I.-The camp.

Enter CRISTIERN, Attendants, &c. TROLLIO meets him.

Troll. ALL hail, most mighty of the thrones of
Europe!

The morn salutes thee with auspicious brightness,
No vapour frowns prophetic on her brow,
But the clear sun, who travels with thy arms,
Still smiles, attendant on thy growing greatness:
His evening eye shall see thee peaceful lord
Of all the north, of utmost Scandinavia;
Whence thou may'st pour thy conquests o'er the
earth,

'Till farther India glows beneath thy empire,
And Lybia knows no regal name but yours.
Crist. Yes, Trollio, I confess the godlike thirst,
Ambition, that would drink a sea of glory.
But what from Dalecarlia?

Troll. Late last night,

I sent a trusty slave to Peterson, And hourly wait some tidings.

Crist. Think you-Sure

The wretches will not dare such quick perdition. Troll. I think they will not-Though of old I know them

All born to broils, the very sons of tumult; Waste is their wealth, and mutiny their birthright,

And this the yearly fever of their blood,
Their holiday of war; a day apart,

Torn out from peace, and sacred to rebellion,
Oft has their battle hung upon the brow
Of yon wild steep, a living cloud of mischiefs,
Pregnant with plagues, and emptied on the heads
Of many a monarch.

Crist. Monarchs they were not,
Pageants of wax, the mouldings of the populace,
Tame paultry idols, sceptred up for shew,
And garnished into royalty-No, Trollio;
Kings should be felt, if they would find obedience;
The beast has sense enough to know his rider;
When the knee trembles, and the hand grows
slack,

He casts for liberty: but bends and turns
For him that leaps with boldness on his back,
And spurs him to the bit.

Enter a Gentleman Usher, and several Peasants,

who kneel and bow at a distance.

Crist. What slaves are those?
Gent. My gracious liege, your subjects.
Crist. Whence?

Gent. Of Sweden.

From Angermannia, from Helsingia some,

Some from the Gemtian and Nerician provinces.

Crist. Their business.

Gent. They come to speak their griefs.

Crist. Their griefs! their insolence!

How poor thy power, how empty is thy happi

ness,

When such a wretch, as I appear to be,
Can ride thy temper, harrow up thy form,
And stretch thy soul upon the rack of passion!
Crist. I'll know thee-I will know thee! Bear
him hence!

Why, what are kings, if slaves can brave us thus? Go, Trollio, hold him to the rack-Tear, search him,

Prove him through every poignance, sting him deep!

[Exit Trollio with Arvida guarded.

Enter a Messenger, as in haste.

Crist. What wouldst thou, fellow?
Mess. O my sovereign lord,

I am come fast and far, from even till morn, Five times I've crossed the shade of sleepless night,

Impatient of thy presence.

Crist. Whence?

Mess. From Denmark;

Commended from the consort of thy throne
To speed and privacy.

Crist. Your words would taste of terror-
Wretch, speak out,

Nor dare to tremble here-For, didst thou bear
Thy tidings from a thousand leagues around,
Unmoved, I move the whole, the cent'ring nave,
Where turns that mighty circle-Speak thy mes-

sage.

Mess. A secret malady, my gracious liege, Some factious vapour, risen from off the skirts Of southmost Norway, has diffused its bane, And rages now within the heart of Denmark. Crist. It must not, cannot, 'tis impossible! What, my own Danes! Nay, then, the world wants weeding,

I will not bear it-Hell! I'd rather see
This earth a desert, desolate and wild,
And, like the lion, stalk my lonely round,
Famished and roaring for my prey-

lio!

-Call Trol

I'll have men studied, deeply read in mischiefs.

Enter a Servant, who kneels and delivers a letter.

Crist. What's to be done? Now, Trollio, now's the time

To subtilize thy soul, sound every depth,
And waken all the wondrous statesman in thee.
For I must tell thee, (spite of pride and royalty,
Of guarding armies, and of circling nations,
That bend beneath my nod) this cursed Gusta-

vus

Invades my sinking spirits, awes my heart,
And sits upon my slumbers-All in vain
Has he been daring, and have I been vigilant;
Spite of himself he still evades the hunter,
And, if there's power in heaven or hell, it guards
him,

When was I vanquished, but when he opposed me? When have I conquered, but when he was absent?

His name's a host, a terror to my legions;
And by my tripled crown, I swear, Gustavus,
I'd rather meet all Europe for my foe,
Than see thy face in arms!

Troll, Be calm, my liege,

And listen to a secret big with consequence,
That gives thee back the second man on earth,
Whose valour could plant fears around thy throne:
Thy prisoner

Crist, What of him?
Troll. The prince Arvida.
Crist. How!

Troll. The same.

Crist. My royal fugitive?
Troll. Most certain.

Crist. Now, then, 'tis plain who sent him hi-
ther.

Troll. Yes.

Doubtful and distant; but a nearer view
Renewed the characters effaced by absence.
Yet, lest he might presume upon a friendship
Of ancient league between us, I dissembled,
Nor seemed to know him-On he proudly strode,
As who should say, back, Fortune, know thy dis-
tance!

Thus steadily he passed, and mocked his fate.
When, lo! the princess to her morning walk
Came forth attended-quick amazement seized
Arvida at the sight; his steps took root,

3 R

A tremor shook him; and his altering cheek
Now sudden flushed, then fled its wonted colour;
While with an eager and intemperate look
He bent his form, and hung upon her beauties.
Crist. Ha! Did our daughter note him?
Troll. No, my lord;

She passed regardless-Strait his pride fell from him,

And at her name he started.

Then heaved a sigh, and cast a look to Heaven,
Of such a mute, yet eloquent emotion,
As seemed to say, Now, Fate, thou hast prevailed,
And found one way to triumph o'er Arvida!
Crist. But whither would this lead?
Troll. List, list, my lord!

While thus his soul's unseated, shook by passion,
Could we engage him to betray Gustavus-

Crist. O empty hope! Impossible, my Trollio. Do I not know him, and the cursed Gustavus? Both fixed in resolution deep as hell, And proud as high Olympus!

Troll. Ah, ny liege,

No mortal footing treads so firm in virtue,
As always to abide the slippery path,

Nor deviate with the bias. Some have few,
But each man has his failing, some defect
Wherein to slide temptation-Leave him to me.
Crist. I know thou hast a serpentizing genius,
Canst wind the subtlest mazes of the soul,
And trace her wanderings to the source of action.
If thou canst bend this proud one to our purpose,
And make the lion crouch, 'tis well-if not,
Away at once, and sweep him from remembrance.
Troll. Then I must promise deep.

Crist. Ay, any thing; out-bid ambition.
Troll. Love?

Crist, Ha! Yes-our daughter too—if she can bribe him;

But then to win him to betray his friend?

Troll. O doubt it not, my lord-for if he loves, As sure he greatly does, I have a stratagem That holds the certainty of fate within it. Love is a passion whose effects are various ; It ever brings some change upon the soul, Some virtue, or some vice, till then unknown; Degrades the hero, and makes cowards valiant. Crist. True, when it pours upon a youthful temper,

Open and apt to take the torrent in;

It owns no limits, no restraint it knows,
But sweeps all down, though Heaven and hell

oppose;

Even virtue rears in vain her sacred mound, Razed in its rage, or in its swellings drowned.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

Opens, and discovers ARVIDA in chains; Guards preparing instruments of death and torture. He advances in confusion.

Arv. Off, off, vain cumbrance, ye conflicting thoughts!

Leave me to Heaven. O peace! It will not be

Just when I rose above mortality,

To pour her wondrous weight of charms upon me!

At such a time, it was, it was too much!
To pluck the soaring pinion of my soul,
While, eagle-eyed, she held her flight to Heaven,
O'er pain and death triumphant! Help, ye saints,
Angelic ministers descend, descend,

And lift me to myself! hold, bind my heart
Firm and unshaken in the approaching ruin,
The wreck of earth-born frailty! and, O Heaven,
For every pang these tortured limbs shall feel,
Descend, in ten-fold blessings, on Gustavus!
Yes, bless him, bless him! Crown his hours with
joy,

His head with glory, and his arms with conquest ;
Set his firm foot upon the neck of tyrants,
And be his name the balm of every lip

That breathes through Sweden! Worthiest to be styled

Their friend, their chief, their father, and their king!

Enter TROLLIO,

Troll. Unbind your prisoner,
Arv. How?

Troll. You have your liberty, And may depart unquestioned.

Arv. Do not mock me.

It is not to be thought, while power remains,
That Cristiern wants a reason to be cruel.
But let him know I would not be obliged.
He, who accepts the favours of a tyrant,
Shares in his guilt; they leave a stain behind
them.

Troll. You wrong the native temper of his
soul;

Cruel of force, but never of election:
Prudence compelled him to a shew of tyranny;
Howe'er, those politics are now no more,
And mercy, in her turn, shall shine on Sweden.
Arv. Indeed! It were a strange, a blessed re-

verse,

Devoutly to be wished! but then the cause, The cause, my lord, must surely be uncommon. May I presume?

Perhaps a secret.

Troll. No or if it were,

The boldness of thy spirit claims respect,
And should be answered. Know, the only man,
In whom our monarch ever knew repulse,
Is now our friend; that terror of the field,
The invincible Gustavus.

Aro. Ha! Friend to Cristiern? Guard thyself, my heart!

[Aside. Nor seem to take alarm-Why, good my lord, What terror is there in a wretch proscribed, Naked of means, and distant as Gustavus?

Troll. There you mistake-Nor knew we till this hour

The danger was so near- -From yonder hill
He sends proposals, backed with all the powers
Of Dalecarlia, those licentious resolutes,
Who, having nought to hazard in the wreck,
Are ever foremost to foment a storm.

Arv. I were too bold to question on the terms.
Troll. No-trust me, valiant man, whoe'er
thou art,

I would do much to win a worth like thine,
By any act of service, or of confidence.
The terms Gustavus claims, indeed, are haughty;
The freedom of his mother and his sister,
His forfeit province, Gothland, and the isles,
Submitted to his sceptre- -But the league,
The bond of amity, and lasting friendship,
Is, that he claims Cristina for his bride.
You start, and seem surprised.

Arv. A sudden pain

Just struck athwart my breast- -But say, my

lord,

I thought you named Cristina.

Troll. Yes.

Arv. O torture!

What of her, my good lord?

[Aside.

Troll. I said, Gustavus claimed her for his bride. Arv. His bride! his wife!

You did not mean his wife! Do fiends feel thus? [Aside. Down, heart, nor tell thy anguish! Pray excuse me; Did you not say, the princess was his wife?

Whose wife, my lord?

Troll. I did not say what was, but what must be.

Arv. Touching Gustavus, was it not?

Troll. The same.

Arv. His bride!

Troll. I say his bride, his wife; his loved
Cristina!

Cristina, fancied in the very prime
And youthful smile of nature; formed for joys
Unknown to mortals. You seem indisposed.
Aro. The crime of constitution-Oh Gustavus!
[Aside.
This is too much!-And think you then, my
lord-

What, will the royal Cristiern e'er consent
To match his daughter with his deadliest foe?

Troll. What should he do? War else must be eternal.

Besides, some rumours from his Danish realms Make peace essential here.

-all

Arv. Yes, peace has sweets, That Hybla never knew; it sleeps on down, Culled gently from beneath the cherub's wing; No bed for mortals- -man is warfareA hurricane within; yet friendship stoops, And gilds the gloom with falsehood, smiles, and varnish!

For still the storm grows high, and then no shore!

No rock to split on! 'Twere a kind perdition
To sink ten thousand fathom át a plunge,
And fasten on oblivion-there we hold,

Aro. Yes, that accomplished traitor, that
Gustavus,

While he sat planning private scenes of happiness,
O well dissembled! He, he sent me hither;
My friendly, unsuspecting heart a sacrifice,
To make death sure, and rid him of a rival.
Troll. A rival! Do you then love Cristiern's
daughter?

Arv. Name her not, Trollio; since she can't
be mine:

Gustavus! how, ah! how hast thou deceived me! Who could have looked for falsehood from thy brow,

Whose heavenly arch was as the throne of virtue!
Thy eye appeared a sun to cheer the world,
Thy bosom truth's fair palace, and thy arms,
Benevolent, the harbour for mankind.

Troll. What's to be done? Believe me, valiant
prince,

I know not which most sways me to thy interests, My love to thee, or hatred to Gustavus.

Arv. Would you then save me? Think, contrive it quickly!

Lend me your troops-by all the powers of rengeance,

Myself will face this terror of the north,
This son of fame-this-O Gustavus-What?
Where had I wandered?-Stab my bleeding coun-
try!

Save, shield me from that thought.
Troll. Retire, my lord;
For see, the princess comes.

Arv. Where, Trollio, where?

Ha! Yes, she comes indeed! her beauties drive Time, place, and truth, and circumstance before them!

Perdition pleases there-pull-tear me from her!
Yet must I gaze-but one-but one look more,
And I were lost for ever.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter CRISTINA, MARIANA, and attendants. Cristina. Forbid it, shame! Forbid it, virgin modesty!

No, no, my friend, Gustavus ne'er shall know it.
OI am over-paid with conscious pleasure;
The sense but to have saved that wondrous man,