University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

POLIPHONTES, EROX.
EROX.
Ent'ring, I heard her too presumptuous Scorn,
And wonder'd, at your Patience! Waits a King,
For a weak Woman's Wish, to fix his Throne?
Greatly and bravely have you clear'd your Way
To the Hill's Foot: Yet, when it courts your climbing,
Fall back, to sigh; and seek her Hand, to lead you!

POLIPHONTES.
Near, as thou think'st I stand, my warier Eye
Marks, 'twixt the Throne and me, a Precipice,
Where Faith or I fall headlong.—Does not Merope
Know, her Eumenes near?—Shou'd he return,
Th' inconstant People wou'd with Shouts receive him,
And smooth his way to Empire, o'er my Bosom.
—Thou know'st, from Proofs, most timely intercepted,
This new Boy King returns, and hopes Mycene.

EROX.
Trust your high Fortune, and disdain to Doubt.
Foresight and Fierceness are the brave Man's Gods,
And his own Hand supports him.

POLIPHONTES.
My late Order?

EROX.
'Twas, with a silent Firmness, well obey'd.
—From Elis to Mycene, every Road
Is watch'd, by sleepless Warders.—If they come,
Narbas and He, their Gods must march before 'em:
Or not Alcides' Blood could scape the shedding.
Your Soldier's Zeal is warm.

POLIPHONTES.
But is it blind?

EROX.
It is.—None knows his Name, whose Life he waits.
All they have yet been told is, a sad Tale,
Of an old wily Traitor, leading with him,
On murd'rous Purpose, an Assassin Youth,
Urg'd by exacted Oaths, to seek your Death.

POLIPHONTES.
But, what this Rumour, of Misanthus kill'd,
Before Alcides' Temple?—Is that true?

EROX.
Too sure, he fell.—I chose his trusty Arm,
Join'd with his martial Brother's, as most fit,
To guard that likeliest Station; where, should Narbas
Dare, with his Exile, touch Mycene's Border,
First, they wou'd rest, to beg That Godhead's Care,
From whom their Race presumes its proud Descent.

POLIPHONTES.
'Twas Forecast, worthy of a Zeal, like Thine.
Nor cou'd thy Care have chosen an abler Hand,
Or one more try'd in Blood, than That Misanthus.
—'Twas He, thou know'st, that, faithful to my Cause,
On that black Night, attending, near Cresphontes,
Taught the King's Sword, amid the Dusk of Slaughter,
To pierce its Master's Breast.—An Act, so daring,
Deserv'd the Sword, tho' three rich Gems adorn'd it,
He had it: And he wore it, for his Pains.

EROX.
Yet, at Alcides' Temple, drew it rashly,
And lost it, with his Life.

POLIPHONTES.
How scap'd his Brother?

EROX.
Scar'd, out of Mem'ry's Use, All he cou'd tell me
Was, that the God inspir'd some dreadful Form!
Some more than mortal Monster;—And He fled,

POLIPHONTES.
Vile Safety!—left his Brother unreveng'd:
And shun'd a Soldier's Death.—We must be watchful.
Some in-felt Bodings bid me call this Stranger
Eumenes: Or his Friend.

EROX.
That Fear was mine:
Till, on Reflexion that he came, alone,
It look'd unlikely.—Chance it, as it may,
Whene're he this way comes, he comes, to die.

POLIPHONTES.
True.—Yet, I cou'd have wish'd to spare this Crime,
But, one first chosen, the Rest grow necessary:
So falls the Son.—The Mother must not follow.
Her, I have Need of. Marriage mends my Reign.
Her rightful Title consecrates Ambition:
And Usurpation whitens into Law.
—The People love her: I, possessing her,
Hold her Friends too, in Dowry.—Erox!—thou,
Whose Fate grows close to mine, assist my Scheme.
Skill'd how to spread Craft's Nets, allure the People.
Train 'em, by ev'ry Art: poize ev'ry Temper,
Avarice will sell his Soul: Buy That, and mould it.
Weakness will be deluded; there, grow eloquent.
Is there a tott'ring Faith? Grapple it fast
By Flatt'ry: And profusely deal my Favours.
Threaten the Guilty. Entertain the Gay.
Frighten the Rich. Find Wishes, for the Wanton:
And Reverence, for the Godly,—Let none 'scape thee.
Dive into Hearts: Sound every Nature's Biass—
And bribe Men by their Passions.—But, These Arts,
Already Thine, why waste I Time to teach thee!
Vainly, the Sword successful scales a Throne;
Since, Fortune changing, Strength's lost Hope is flown.
But Art, call'd in, attracts reluctant Will:
And, what were lost by Power, is gain'd by Skill.