University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Terrace Walk.
Enter Euryalus and Argaleon.
Euryalus.
Look but abroad, 'tis sun-shine all around us;
While our Messene, this abandon'd spot,
Is drench'd in heavy show'rs of human blood;
And all the storm beats here.

Arg.
O thou, who wert
Our guardian once, immortal Hercules!
What fate, injurious to thy fair renown,
Has rais'd a Monster from thy tainted blood?
Ev'n all the Monsters, which thy valour crush'd,
Are now reviv'd in thy descendant Glycon.
Wouldst thou assert thy Deity, and crown
The glorious labours of thy virtue here,
Swift as the bolt that arms thy thund'ring Sire,
Dart this infernal plague to shades below;
And let the Furies, that ev'n now possess him,
That feed his rage, and haunt his guilty dreams,
Torment th'Usurper in their proper mansion.

Eur.
What was my Father's crime? His large Possessions,
His Hospitality, his shining Worth;
Rank treason All! The fears of impious pow'r
Were heighten'd into proofs that turn'd against him
The tyrant's sharpest sword, perverted Law.

Arg.
You know he did but dream my Brother stabb'd him,
And plung'd the visionary criminal
Deep in a dungeon, stripp'd of all his wealth.

Eur.
When 'tis to warrant cruelty and rapine,
The heav'nly Pow'rs, whose Being he denies
In words and actions, are profanely vouch'd,
And idle dreams stil'd Messengers from Jove.

Arg.
From Bacchus rather in luxurious draughts.

Eur.
But are we sunk so womanishly low,
That we can only mourn, and rail, and pray?
The genial heat of heav'n-born liberty
Once ripen'd Patriot spirits into Heroes;
And half the Stars, that shine in yonder sky,
Were Mortals here below, who dy'd, or conquer'd,
To save their country from the fear of chains;
Which We can feel; yet crouch, and lick the dust
Beneath the feet that trample us.

Arg.
The Fear
Might raise our Courage; but the Feeling sinks it.
The pulse beats high and strong in common fevers;
But when 'tis languishing and faint, betrays
The fatal force of those malignant fires
That drink the vital flood.

Eur.
Have comfort yet,
And trust revolving Fortune, infinite
In changes unforeseen. The wayward Goddess
Has rais'd the wretch aloft in fatal sport,
To let him fall with greater force.

Arg.
She has:
Or young Cleander was preserv'd in vain,
When King Cresfontes, his lamented Father,
And both his Brothers, sacrific'd at once
To Glycon's fury, swell'd the hungry grave.

Eur.
Add his concealment in a foreign land,
From all the hundred eyes of jealous pow'r,
Full fifteen years deluded in their search
By his more watchful guard, a Mother's love.

Arg.
An anxious love to Merope; for oh!
What endless doubts and apprehensions haunt her!
Her only comfort is to nourish hope,
By hearing once a year her darling lives.
Arbantes was dispatch'd a while ago
On that dear errand, and returns to-day.
Nay more—be secret and prepar'd.

Eur.
For what?

Arg.
Revenge and Freedom. By the Queen's command
He brings Cleander home.

Eur.
Be thank'd, ye Powers!
Give us but Him to head the glorious cause;
And halting Justice shall resume her sword,
So long athirst in vain for Glycon's blood.

Arg.
No more. But clear your brow; for, see, he comes,
Attended by his Ministers of Death.

Enter Glycon, Nicanor, Adrastus, and Phalantus.
Gly.
Tell me, Nicanor, will these restive slaves
Be never scourg'd into a better mind
By wholsome discipline?

Eur.
I hope they will not.

[Aside.
Nic.
Monarchs, ador'd at first, are hated oft,
As Times, as Interests, or as Humours turn;
But hated once, are seldom lov'd again.

Gly.
The scowl of louring discontent insults me
In ev'ry face I meet: They all look Treason;
And all should perish to secure my peace.

Nic.
The villain vulgar, ever prone to change,
Extol the Prince they have no more: 'Tis death
Endears Cresfontes to their hearts; and now
They long in secret for his heir, whose life
Endangers yours.

Arg.
The life of young Cleander?
You know he lost it in its Infant Dawn,
Snatch'd from his cradle to the grave.

Gly.
No more;
Or vent thy tale henceforth to fools. That One
Of Merope's detested race survives,
Was ever past dispute.

Pha.
Yet all our arts
Have fail'd to trace him out.

Nic.
May I have leave
To offer one Expedient more?

Gly.
You have.

Nic.
'Tis making Merope confess the secret.

Adr.
Confess? Betray a Son she fondly loves?

Nic.
Yet not more fondly than she lov'd her husband;
Nor therefore more than she perhaps may learn
To love my gracious Lord.

Eur.
What would the Villain?

[Aside.
Gly.
I lov'd her once; and love—my Interest still.

Nic.
That Interest points the Marriage out, to gain
The stupid Many by an idle hope,
That She, the Widow of their fav'rite King,
May change you to a peaceful drone like Him.

Gly.
Suppose she should deny?

Nic.
A groundless doubt.
Secure the first impression, Sir, and then
Your work is half perform'd.

Pha.
When once she yields,
Howe'er reluctant, to become your Wife,
Your well-tim'd Flatt'ries then, and kind Caresses,
The Racks of Love, may force discovery from her,
And drag her Son to light.

Gly.
But you misjudge,
My Friends, of Merope's unshaken spirit.
Her Sex's frailty is no standard there.

Nic.
Admit the worst; that Artifice should fail
To bend her pride and obstinancy; then
You must resort to menaces and force.

Adr.
A finish'd Policitian! Well! if conscience
Comes by descent, my Mother gave me mine.

[Aside.
Nic.
Resolve, whate'er it cost, to make her yours;
And grace the Nuptials with Imperial pomp;
That all may understand the compliment
You make your People in the choice of Her,
The Widow of a Prince they lov'd so well.

Gly.
Nicanor, you have argu'd right; and soon
We'll make the trial.

Eur.
This the Queen should know.

Arg.
But how to break it to her is a point
Not to be here debated. [Apart.


[Exeunt Arg. and Eur.
Nic.
Look, my Lord!
For Merope, your future Bride, approaches.

Gly.
We must avoid her, till maturer thought
Has well digested this important Scheme.

Adr.
Ismene with the Queen! but I shall watch
My opportunity to disengage her. [Aside.]


[Exeunt.
Enter Merope, Timoclea, and Ismene.
Mer.
Be this my anchor then—the Gods are righteous;
And, in proportion to my suff'rings here,
My credit rises on Futurity
For ampler recompence. A filial trust
In Heav'n all-good, to those who think aright
Endears affliction; and extends their view
Beyond the narrow Scene of human woe,
To bright reversions of unfading bliss,
Where my Cresfontes dwells.

Tim.
Be comforted,
My Royal Mistress; for my heart abounds
With gay, presaging warmth, the harbinger
Of happier fortune. A long absent Son
Shall bless your eyes, while mine with rival joy
Salute a Father whom they never saw.

Mer.
'Tis true: When faithful Polydorus bore
My child in secret, hence; your birth, Timoclea,
Expected long in vain, had just rejoic'd
His then declining age—your Mother wept;
Embrac'd him o'er and o'er with boding fondness,
And took her last Adieu—Oh! happy She,
Who dying left the Partner of her bed,
And You, their only pledge of love, behind!
But I have liv'd to see my Husband slain—
The daggers, reeking in my Childrens blood,
Were brandish'd in my eyes by Ruffian hands—
Still one remaining Son supported me—
For Children—Husband—all surviv'd in him—
And now, if my divining fears are true,
Ev'n He, my last reserve of hope and comfort—
I cannot speak the rest.

Ism.
Unfold, I beg you,
The cruel cause of this distress.

Mer.
My Dream
Of yesternight sits heavy here. I saw,
Just as he look'd when in the pangs of death,
My murder'd Lord—Tears streaming from his eyes;
Blood from his wounds—a purple shroud he wore;
And held in either hand a bleeding son;
Each pointing to his mangled breast.

Tim.
Ye Powers!
What could the dire distracting vision mean?

Mer.
Imagine, if you can, my wild amaze,
My horror, and my agonizing pain.
I would have found it but a dream, and strove
To break the tyrant chain of sleep, but could not:
Till in a falt'ring tone, at length I ask'd him
Of our surviving Son—He shook his head,
And groan'd without reply—I shriek'd aloud;
Leap'd from my trembling bed; and wak'd in tears.

Ism.
Alas! I shudder at the bare relation
Of what you underwent. But we expect
Arbantes ev'ry hour; I hope with tidings
To ease your fears—And oh, my Queen! behold
The man I nam'd, as fate just now had sent him.

Enter Arbantes.
Arb.
[Kneeling.]
My Royal Mistress!

Mer.
Is my Son alive?

Arb.
He is; and Polydorus too.

Tim.
The gods
Be prais'd!

Mer.
And thanks to thee, Arbantes. Welcome now:
For welcome was a word my tongue refus'd,
Before you told me I was still a Mother.

Arb.
A day or two ere I arriv'd, he went
To visit Sparta: But a messenger
Was instantly dispatch'd by Polydorus,
With proper orders to direct him hither.

Tim.
And Polydorus—

Arb.
Will arrive ere long.
At once we started; but by diff'rent ways:
For such was Your command.

[To Merope.
Mer.
A happy thought.
Had Glycon's spies encounter'd you together,
I tremble but to think on what had follow'd.

Arb.
Your son is single too; but then, unknown
For what he is, and ignorant himself
Of his high birth, he travels unsuspected;
And, but from common accidents, secure.

Mer.
O could you but have seen him, to resolve
A thousand questions I should then have ask'd you.
And now a miser's thirst inflames my soul
To view my long-hid treasure, and recall
His Father's image; for there was a promise
Of likeness dawning in his infant face.

Arb.
Excuse my weakness, that declines a theme
Beyond the reach of words. The Prince's worth
(If he who knows it best, deserves belief)
Can only speak itself.

Mer.
My best Arbantes!
Thy tidings, welcome as refreshing dew,
Distil serenely on my wither'd heart,
That deeply drinks the blessing, and revives
In all the bloom of hope. My fancy's eye
Already figures my young fiery warrior
Redeeming at a blow his lost Messene:
The grim Usurper's gushing blood appears
To paint his face, and add to glowing youth
A purple more divine.

Arb.
Reserve your transports,
Illustrious Queen, to entertain your Son.

Mer.
My Transports then will rise too high for language:
Then for the fix'd regard! the close embrace!
The silent ecstacy! Nay, wonder not
At what you hear: For oh let These declare,
If I have pass'd a day in their remembrance,
Excepting this, which they would wish to see me
Live o'er again.

Tim., Ism.
O never.

Mer.
Pardon then
The wild excesses of a change like this:
Joy has a stranger's privilege with me;
And claims th'abundance of my soul to treat it.

Tim.
But, Madam; you forget the hour is come
To offer holy vows to chaste Lucina,
For this auspicious day, that witness'd first
Your darling infant's cries, and now restores him.

Mer.
O Goddess! thou, whose sacred aid reliev'd
The pangs that gave Cleander to the light,
Protect him now; guide all his steps; and let
Messene, rescu'd by his arm, proclaim
His second happier birth to empire, and to fame.

[Exeunt.
Enter Adrastus, and stops Ismene.
Adr.
The Queen may spare you for a while, Ismene;
She must, in pity to a lover's pain.

Ism.
Away, my Lord; you mock my easy faith.
But 'tis no wonder that Nicanor's Son
Can play the Statesman too, and learn deceit,
The constant curse of fond believing love.

Adr.
Deceit in love! be that suspicion far
From this soft breast, the mansion and reward
Of endless truth; sweet as the spring's first odours,
And kind as fancy warm with young desire.
Thus let me clasp my dear Ismene—thus—
[Embracing her.
And melt her fears away.

Ism.
Forbear, Adrastus.

Adr.
O why that cruel frown? The bliss deny'd
Is punishment enough. When mortals pray,
(For want will pray, where merit cannot claim)
The Gods are often deaf, but never angry.

Ism.
They must forget their nature, to be angry
With pious suppliants. Is that title yours?
Perhaps the vows of your distemper'd heart
Are breath'd in secret, and avoid the light
Of Hymen's holy torch.

Adr.
Why name you Hymen?
A peevish Father, yours or mine, may bar
The door against him, and plant Duty there,
With Int'rest, or the noisy phantom, Honour,
To guard the passage.

Ism.
But when time has laid
Those sentinels asleep—

Adr.
Alas, my Fair,
Then love, neglected long, may slumber too.
With rev'rence treat the beck'ning God, who comes not,
Nor stays, at our command. He now invites us:
And, dear Ismene, Now alone is ours.

Ism.
O Chastity! inviolable Goddess
Of well-descended minds! thou friend confess'd
To sylvan pastimes and to rural toil!
If I have lodg'd thee here, with youth and pomp,
Beneath a gilded roof, on beds of down;
And made thee triumph o'er the wanton song,
The costly banquet, and the midnight dance,
Safe in the last recesses of my soul;
Why hast thou suffer'd such unhallow'd sounds
To taint his lips, and wound Ismene's ear?

[Weeps.
Adr.
What means my Love?

Ism.
What means Adrastus, rather,
Who won my heart by honourable vows?
For such I thought them once. O why so long
Chose you to counterfeit? Had you begun
To tempt me thus, I had disdain'd you then;
And should disdain you now.

Adr.
Forgive the starts
Of ardent love, or say (and kill me quite)
You never felt its pow'r.

Ism.
I urg'd at first
The disproportion of my humble fortune;
Begg'd you would cease to undermine my soul
With flatt'ring hopes, and own'd you stoop'd too low.

Adr.
Who would not stoop to crop so fair a flow'r?

Ism.
To taste its sweets, and then to throw it by?
Is it not so?

Adr.
To wear it here for ever.

Ism.
What envious pow'r, to innocence a foe,
Made you disturb the calm I once enjoy'd,
But ne'er shall find again?

Adr.
A calm well chang'd
For gentle quarrels, such as ours has been,
That stir the soul, not ruffle it. Believe me,
These tender jealousies, and kind disquiets,
Do but awake desire, and then are hush'd;
Soft as Etesian gales, that cease at night.

Ism.
Be still, my heart, and trust him; tho' in love,
As in an untry'd voyage, images
Of danger and distress will still alarm
The Sailor, launching on a boundless sea,
Howe'er the sky may smile. But once again
To try that interest your heart allows me,
I must sollicit it for dear Timoclea.
She has a suit to Glycon: Will you promise
To be her advocate?

Adr.
To your commands
With joy I dedicate my faithful service;
A grateful convert to the pow'r divine
Of Virtue, glowing in Ismene's cheeks;
That, blushing like the morn, restor'd the day,
When my benighted soul began to stray;
And chas'd the Fiend, licentious Love, away.

[Exeunt.