person, that consolation of which you stand in need. PRINCE HENRY. Has any thing prevented him from executing this indulgent design? ARCHBISHOP. His faithful ministers, solicitous for the preservation of a king so deservedly dear to his people, remonstrated against his exposing himself to the dangers of so long a journey; representing to him that he owed the care of his person to the welfare of his subjects. PRINCE HENRY. And has he entirely relinquished his intention? Alas! I fear that he suspected treachery, and was apprehensive of trusting himself in my power. How justly have I incurred this want of confidence; and especially from him, who had always the most undoubted claim to my fidelity and allegiance. Unhappy that I am! I shall never behold him more! His refusal overwhelms me with shame and despair. What assurance can I give him of my change of heart? He puts no dependance on my promises, so often broken. Could he but wit ness my tears, my sorrow, my unfeigned repentance, my resolutions for the future, (should Heaven listen to my prayers for a few years of life, to make reparation for those I have so shamefully misused,) he would lay aside all suspicion, and look upon me once more as his son: he would forgive me; he would come and receive my penitential submission. ARCHBISHOP. He wanted no motives to urge him to hasten his journey; the difficulty was to restrain him. A king is not at liberty to follow the impulse of his private feelings as a man, but is obliged to sacrifice them to his public duty. His heart glowed with the affection of a father; he thought of nothing but how to assure you of his sympathy and love. Does your Highness recollect this ring? PRINCE HENRY. My father's ring! Give it me, as a sacred pledge of his returning favour. Oh, precious testimony of pardon, let me press thee to my lips! [Kisses the ring. ARCHBISHOP. He took it from his finger and sent it to you, as a token of his entire reconciliation, and at the same time bestowed his paternal blessing upon you, recommending you to compose your troubled spirits, and aspire after patience, and resignation to the dispensations of unerring Wisdom. PRINCE HENRY. I perceive plainly that I shall never have the satisfaction of seeing him again; but I accept his forgiveness with a grateful heart, and shall resign my breath with the consolatory reflection, that he has received me again as his son. May my example have a proper influence upon the mind of my brother. When I shall be no more, if you have any friendship for me, hasten to him, paint my remorse and despair in the strongest colours, and assure him, upon the faith of a dying man, that there is no peace for those who rebel against their parents. Tell him, that it is my last request that he will humble himself and seek to be reconciled to his father, before the season of health is past; lest, like me, he should not have time to give continued proofs of his sincerity, by a long course of affection and obedience, for successive years. Should he hesitate compliance, let him remember the death-bed of his brother, and beware of deserving such a fate. THE SORROWS OF REPENTANCE SUCCEED THE melancholy effects of passion and prejudice, occur frequently in every scene of life. Anger, when unrestrained, reduces the wise man and the fool to the same level; nay more, the intoxication of passion has in a moment overturned the best resolutions of the virtuous, and, forgetful of those principles by which his conduct has generally been guided, he has been precipitated into actions characteristic only of the most abandoned. Not history alone, but the ordinary transactions of private families, are full of incidents that prove the truth of this position, and the necessity of checking the earliest propensity to sudden anger and hastiness of temper. Those who are addicted to this vice, often console themselves with remarking, that it is but the involuntary fever of a moment; that, although they are hasty, they are superior to the feelings of resentment, or the suggestion of malice; without reflecting, that in the space of that momentary heat, they may unfortunately lay the foundation of bitter repentance for the remainder of their lives. Intent on gratifying the present desire of satiating their displeasure, the tormenting accusations of conscience are concealed from their view, till it is too late to recall the consequences of their imprudent fervour. The still small voice of that inward monitor, is seldom heard amidst the turbulence of conflicting passions; but when they have subsided, and time affords opportunity for cool reflection, she reassumes her empire, and inflicts those penalties that are annexed to guilt, with the most unerring certainty, as the sure price of deviating from the path of rectitude. The occurrence that forms the subject of the subsequent dialogue, will illustrate the folly and wickedness of yielding to the impulse of anger, and the |
