 | The destruction of Troy |  |
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ACTUS Primus
SCENA Prima.
The Curtain being drawn up, discovers Agamemnon, Achilles, Menelaus, Ulysses, Patroclus, Diomedes, and Ajax, in Council.Aga.
Wise, Noble, Valiant Græcian Princes, all
Deriv'd from Jove, Mars, Hercules, Apollo,
The first of Hero's, second Race of Gods,
That during all this famous Ten Years Siege
Have Thousands of your Mortal Slaves out-liv'd,
And like your Fathers, as Immortal stood.
Death in the Fight still cuts the Vulgar off,
Who fall like Grass before the sharpest Scyth,
Whilst, you like Rocks, have felt, and turn'd its Edge;
That we may plainly see, all are not born
Mark'd out by Heav'n, as are your Mighty Selves;
All are not blest to be the brave Achilles,
Nor wise Ulysses, valiant Diomed;
Nor are there any so inspir'd with Wrong
As Menelaus: Therefore 'tis high time
Some swift Decree should from your Judgments pass,
To put a speedy End to this long War;
Or else, contented with the Fame we've won,
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And once more visit our lov'd Wives and Countries.
We've done already all that Men could do;
If we stay longer, Fate will soon prevent us,
And sink our Hero's with the Weight of Years:
Old Time will laugh to see us like himself;
Age will perform what War cou'd not have done—
What says the Heav'n-born Thetis mighty Son?
[Achilles rises up and speaks.]
Ach.
Well spoken has the Royal Agamemnon!
This Breast of mine, that was not made for words,
Shall utter too its plain and honest meaning—
How long shall we in vain attempt this City?
A Town, for ought we know, built by the Gods,
And by the Gods Immortal Aid defended;
Begirt with many huge and massy Walls,
Stronger than Stone hew'd from their growing Caverns,
More hard and beautiful than Marble fetch'd
From the deep Bosom of the shining Quarry.
Still as we follow'd any fierce Assault,
Still we were more and more repuls'd, and often
Slid from the tops of her bright Magick Tow'rs,
Leaving no more Impression with our Blood,
Than restless Waves that dash against the Rocks,
And pitiless drop into the Sea again:
Or, if by any chance, a Breach we made,
That Blood hath only serv'd our Enemies,
To heal, and to cement their Walls again.—
Of all that know Achilles, none can say,
That thought of danger makes him speak these words.
By Divine Thetis, sitting next to Jove,
Who, when I was an Infant, held me by the heel,
Bath'd my young soft and tender Limbs all o're,
And plung'd me in the Lake of Acheron,
And me Immortal made,—By her I swear,
There's none amongst you all dares think I fear—
Did not the Gods, at her Request, command
Old skilful Vulcan to beat out this Armour,
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And fram'd o'th' same impenetrable stuff,
That the bright Chariot of the Sun is made of,
And Jupiter's almighty Thunderbolts?
Thus guarded, I'm above the reach of Fate,
And were I sure this War wou'd last yet Ten
Years longer, I wou'd formost lead you on,
Secure, and free from the pale hand of Death:
Nay, wou'd my self depopulate this Town,
Were I but sure only to fight with Men;
But to encounter Mountains made of Stone,
That like a Guard defend the mighty City,
As if it were immur'd and fortifi'd
Against the Gods themselves. Such Walls by Mercury fram'd,
With subtil folding Arms, its Waste embracing
Sev'n times, each one defended by the other,
And of so intricate an Art, that none,
But he that has the Skill of Dedalus,
With his Infernal Clew of Thread, can enter.—
[Patroclus rises and speaks.]
Patr.
And what have we done all this for? Wherefore?
Only to vindicate a private Quarrel?
For one Man's Interest to sacrifice
The best and sweetest Strength of all our Days.
And what is Menelaus Wrong, though much,
To countervail so many thousand Lives
That it has cost? And in its fatal Cause
Invellop'd Asia in eternal Ruin:
Nay, made the World distracted with it self,
Made you, that were like Gods before, less happy
Than your base Slaves at home, who now enjoy
Their Masters Vineyards, press the wanton Grapes,
And drink the Fruits of what you toil'd for long,
Smile on your Wives, and tempt your Daughters Loves,
In private act those Wrongs you wou'd revenge
On Troy for the long ravish'd Helena.
Whilst you, ingrateful for the Gifts of Heav'n,
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That to stay longer for your great Success,
And wait Troy's mighty and uncertain Ruin,
You wou'd bring pale and Ghost-like Bodies home,
(At your return, in stead of heav'nly Forms)
To fright your Children, and dismay your Wives.—
Think then of this, wise Princes, and think also,
Troy has a Prophecy secures its Fate,
That whilst the great Palladium she keeps safe,
The Gods will all defend it; and wise Pallas,
The Owner of that strange and awful Image,
Has, by her sacred Proxy dropt from Heav'n,
Espous'd her dear beloved Troy to her.
Aga.
Now, Brother Menelaus, speak your Censure.
Men.
'Tis not for me, wise Princes, to be seen
To contradict what y'ave been pleas'd to say:
To plead my own Cause were an arrogance,
And a presumption high in Menelaus;
I who have been the sad Implorer of this War;
How bad, how unsuccessful it has prov'd,
Ye all have known, yet all are satisfi'd
Heav'n found out no Injustice in the Cause.
At the first Motion of my Wrongs, ye all were pleas'd
Friendly t'espouse my Quarrel as your own,
And took the Rape of Helena so near you,
As if you all had suffer'd, all had shar'd
In my unhappy Fate, and all had Wives,
And chast young Daughters torn from your Thresholds,
And by their lustful Victors dragg'd to Troy.
If you repent it now, I wish the Gods,
To expiate the Shame of ravish'd Greece,
And wash the Stain away, had done it only
With Menelaus Blood—I'le say no more,
But will submit in all things to the Votes
Of this Great Council.
[Ulysses rises, and speaks.]
Ulyss.
With low submission, great and valiant Hero's,
Let me presume to shew my weak Defence
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Of this most noble, and illustrious Council,
With all respect to Agamemnon's place,
And due regard to the most brave Achilles,
Whom we must justly own, always to be
The great and mighty Genius of the War.—
Let's search the rise of this vain-glorious Troy;
We know from whence it came, from Dardanus,
Jove's Son, and first it did receive it's Name
From him, and then it pleas'd the Gods she lost
That Title, and Ilium was from Ilus call'd,
Then Troy from Troas, Ilus Son, of no
Immortal Honour she can boast her self;
Twice has she lost her Name, and after this,
If you'l believe her cheating Prophesies,
It shall for ever bear the Name of Troy,
Which is, that it shall last to her Destruction,
Which the just Gods 'till now have stay'd to do
By Agamemnon, and Divine Achilles.—
What though the Walls run seav'n times round the Town,
And with such awful strength, and beauty strike you,
Yet were they built by Men, and when at last
Their Men decay, and are too weak, or few
To hold, and to maintain 'em, they'l soon prove
Your Steps to take the Town the nearest way.—
Yes Valiant Hero's, do, and have it said,
That such wise, noble Princes, as you are,
Did undertake a War, for Virtue, Property,
For Credit, Fame, and not to be
Accounted ridiculous, and patient Asses;
That you, I say, shou'd after ten years fighting
Like valiant Men, disheartned now at last,
Talk of retreating home (just Gods forbid!)
And forfeit your renown with all the World.
Well might ye say your Wives, and Children will
Not know you; if they did, I'm sure they wou'd not
But hate you, hate you for the worst of Cowards,
And rather wou'd embrace your Slaves than you.—
I dare be plain, when all of you have prov'd
The things that I have done with a consult applause.
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Not I? I who reclaim'd him from the Distaff,
When Thetis by fond superstition was
Forewarn'd, that if her Son went forth to Troy,
He should be kill'd, him therefore she did cloath
In soft array, and his young Warlike Body
Bedeck'd with Womens Peticoats, and Bracelets,
Sending him so attir'd to Lycomedes Daughters,
Which I found out by my successful pains,
And hither, hither, to the joy of all
Brought this fam'd Hero to obey the Oracle,
That said, We ne're shou'd conquer Troy without him;
And who discover'd Palamedes Treason,
But my self only? Which I'le urge no more,
And hope you need not many words t'inspire you
With the bold sence of your delighted honours.—
Ajax and Diomedes are to speak.
Ajax.
By the Divinity that guards this mighty presence,
I swear Ulysses has said well, so well,
That I who'd rather do than speak my mind,
Am proud to be the first of his opinion.
Ajax has vow'd ne're to return to Greece,
Till Troy, and her great Champion Hector are
No more, or else with Age, or mortal Wounds
Lie Bury'd by the Walls—With such a zeal,
I did promote our quarrel at the first.
Had I been less than Ajax, I had gone
Proud of the meanest Service of the War,
Under the standard of so just a cause,
Where the immortal credit of all Greece
Is so concern'd—Now talk you of retreating!
When y'ave few Enemies, or none to fear,
And all their great Confed'rates are cut off?
Have they not long since given over rallying,
And fighting in pitch'd Battels? very rarely
Issue beyond their Gates to make a Skirmish,
And when they do, are we not still the stronger?
Have we not Famin fights for us within,
And all the World to range, and at command
Without? and they at best but their own Pris'ners?
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The tir'd Beasts for refuge to their Dens?
Where let 'em roar, and lash themselves, till they are weary:
For all the damage they can do us now,
Is to despair, and with their last revenge,
Reward us with their sudden ruine.—
Is not their dear Palladium now, and Hector
All their poor hopes defence?—Palladium,
Whose Priests are all grown hoarse, and weary,
With utt'ring vain, and fruitless Prophesies;
And Hector once the Man cry'd up of all
The World, What Captain is there here among you,
That wou'd refuse to fight him after Ajax?
I grapled with this Monster, found him to his shame
A meer weak Man, and boldly in the sight
Of both the Armies, gave him such a blow,
As made him stagger, and forsake the Field.
Dio.
The Gods inspire us, most Heroick Princes,
With better hopes of all our aged pains,
Then to desert the War, and think that Heav'n
Has e're design'd us less than our revenge,
For all our wrongs, and Iphygenia's Blood,
When in a Storm to save our beaten Vessels
From Shipwrack, nothing wou'd appease their wrath,
No Sacrifice less costly wou'd be admitted,
That we shou'd offer for the safety of the Fleet,
And be the Victim for the Ghost of Troy,
Than Agamemnon's dear, and only Daughter.—
What though the time be long that we have stay'd?
Yet know, the Gods, when they wou'd make Examples
O'th' worst of Crimes, they punish by degrees.
What had it been for Troy to have at first
Been taken or destroy'd, a punishment
For vulgar Crimes? when now to be o'recome
Is just, and like the Gods our great Protectors,
Who made our Enemies to linger long,
And in suspence, and Tortures to endure
The Ten Years Miseries of War.—'Tis not
In Menelaus cause alone we fight,
That once espous'd, 'tis ev'ry ones become:
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When once begun, 'tis virtue to go through it.
Now to desist, were to record our Names
With Infamy to everlasting Ages;
But when we'ave triumph'd o're the Fate of Troy,
And punish'd this Deflow'rer of our Name,
Grateful Posterity will then adore us;
And when we are descended to our Graves,
We shall rest there both happy and admir'd,
And emulating us, succeeding times
Will strive to make our Urns immortal Fabricks,
And bravest Princes take their rules from us,
And by our actions; make illustrious Patterns
To guide the World with: but I'le make an end,
And must refer my self to your wise Censures.
Aga.
It is enough—O spare the dear debate:
Who can withstand such Reasons so Divine?
We were all dull, all mortal 'till this time.
Thou art condemn'd ô Troy,—
And all thy Power, and Greatness is decreed
To Ruine, at the Bar of this great Council.
There only rests Achilles, your free Vote,
Then like a Prophet from the sacred Altar
Of this orac'lous Table, inspir'd by you,
I shall with joy pronounce in your behalfs
A War again, and to adorn your Heads,
Crowns, and immortal Wreaths of Victory.
Ach.
Ye'ave all said well, I cannot contradict;
You know I hate to talk, but yet, however
Y'ave work'd upon the the freedom of my Nature—
Let it be then, as ye have all persuaded,
A War for ever, an Eternal War;
Achilles and Patroclus ne're shall be
Upbraided singular—I am your Slave,
Your Messenger of Wings, or any thing
You'l put upon me—Since we are resolv'd,
Why talk we? why do we not straight go out,
Rushing on all together; cry Revenge
For ravish'd Chastity, and bear the Fate
Of Greece high o're the proudest Towers of Troy,
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To dust, and turn her guilded Spires to Atoms,
Whose scatter'd multitudes shall choak the Sun—
I'le lead you to the panting Helena,
In Paris Arms hugg'd, as a Lion does his Prey;
Where with this hand I'le strike the Villain Dead,
And with the other give her back to Menelaus—
Quick—Let us debate no longer.
Omnes.
Divine Achilles lead us on.
[They all rise from their Seats]
Aga.
Spoke like your selves, most high, inspir'd Confed'rates!
Your voices are the Gods—Let me embrace
You all, all in these proud, and happy Arms,
The Great, the Wise, the Mighty, and the Valiant—
Our Soules have room enough; let us live all
In one, as all your Faiths, and Memories
Shall to Eternity take up my Breast.
Omnes.
We all are Agamemnons.
Aga.
I am the least, th'unworthy'st Man amongst you.
You brave Achilles, are our Hercules,
The Pillar and the Structure of our Fate;
You wise Ulysses, are our great Apollo;
Patroclus the brave inciting Musick,
That calls us on to Fight, beyond the Sound
Of Trumpets; Menelaus, is the Standard;
And Telamon, and Diomedes, are
The Light'ning, and the Thunder of the War.
Ulyss.
Draw ev'ry Man his Sword, lest any more
Such Scruples shou'd infect our Resolutions.
[They all draw their Swords.]
Let's take an Oath, by all the Gods, our Lives,
Our Faith, Religion, and our Honours,
Ne're to forsake these cursed Walls of Troy,
'Till we have bury'd them deep in the Earth,
As they are now above the Face of it.
Ach.
And dragg'd the beaten Carkass of their Hector
Through ev'ry street that late proclaim'd his praise,
Whilst Matrons, and pale Virgins, howl from tops of houses,
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And bid 'em further search the utmost progress
Of this strange passage under ground.
Enter to them Two Soldiers.
1. Sold.
We bring you, Sir, glad News of our discovery.
Ulyss.
Declare't with speed in Diomedes hearing.
1. Sold.
My fellow here, and I, enter'd the Vault
With Lights, and for the space of three large Furlongs.
We found an easie passage, both might go a breast,
'Till we arriv'd where we cou'd go no further,
Which cannot be the end of this dark Cloyster:
For that which parted us did seem to be
A weak mud Wall, through which we plainly heard,
Though not distinguish'd, Voices of Men,
And trampling of their Feet,
Jingling of Bells, and howling out of Pray'rs,
And sometimes Pallas, Pallas did resound 't our Ears.
Dio.
Ye Gods! This must miraculously be
Beneath the Temple, and some private place
To which the Priests retire to make Orazins.
Ulyss.
Blest News!
The Oracle of Greece hangs on those Lips.—
Hast, and prepare such Engins, and Materials,
That can break through the Wall, and many Lights,
To make the Dungeon brighter, than the day.
Exeunt Soldiers.
Brave Diomedes come along with me;—
This Night we'l sup together, and be merry,
Er'e we approach the Region of the Dead;
Palladium shall be ours before to morrow;
If we both fail, or in the Danger die,
The vast Design shall crown our Memory;
If we prevail, as great will be the Joy
To win the fam'd Palladium, as to conquer Troy.
Exeunt Omnes.
Finis Actus Primi.
| The destruction of Troy | |