University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Eurytion, with Crites and a Servant, gives a Letter to a Servant, who goes out.
Eury.
These must with Speed and Safety be convey'd.
And, Crites, in these Tablets, you will find
The Method I propose in my Design,
Which you must be instructed in: You'll find
Something concern my Wife; let that be kept
A Treasure in thy Heart: for on that Trust
Depends my All.

Crit.
I'll keep it as my Heart.

Eury.
Things thus dispos'd for our Intelligence,
Nothing that in our Absence passes here,
Can 'scape our quickest Notice.

Crit.
Nothing can:
The distance of Tegæa from this Place,
Favours our Posts, that may be hourly with you.

Eury.
My time grows short: I have a Word or two
For my Thelamia's Ear: A farewell Kiss,
Parting with such a Wife, may be allow'd,
And not disgrace my Duty; that Rite pay'd,
Thither I follow too.

[Going.
Crit.
I know not what,
My staying here behind methinks appears
But an unactive, lasy—

Eury.
Pray, no more!

Crit.
I wou'd do something for him.

Eury.
Your staying here at this time, serves us best.
Besides, Thelamia in my Absence may
Need the Protection of thy friendly Care.

Crit.
Sir, I have done, and the Charge honours me.

Eury.
Pray Crites, tell my Wife—I'll go my self—
But see she meets my way—
The Graces all attending on her Steps—
[Thelamia enters to him.
I stood but now superior, and unmov'd,
Ev'n in this Flesh, and Frailty of a Man,
To all the Storms of this bad Under-world,
But wonder at the Virtue of thy Love;
Which, tho' worse Days were to succeed these bad,
Might entertain me thro' long weary Years
Of wretched Life: deceiving all my Cares
In thy dear Arms; forgetting all for thee.

Thel.
O thou first Fondness of a Virgin Heart!
How shall my untaught Innocence instruct me?
How tell thee what my Heart wou'd have thee know?

Eury.
Thy Eyes inform me, their chaste Beams inspire
And speak in Smiles the Language of thy Heart;
Thy Heart, the Throne of Virtue! where my Peace,
My Happiness, and Life must wait for ever.

Crit.
I may provide her better Company.

[Aside.
Eury.
O let me thus transported, view thee still!
Still thus transported touch thee! and each Touch,
As ravishing, as was that furious First,
That gave me the Possession of thy Love,
And made thee mine for ever.

Crit.
He grows warm
On the Imagination: I may cool you.

[Aside.
Thel.
Cou'd this but last, my Lord.

Eur.
It ever shall.

Thel.
I fear the Gods are envious of our Joys.

Eury.
Thus thou hast often heard me: all my Words
Thus charm'd, and fitted to thy tender Ear:
As when I look upon thee, my fir'd Heart
Must wanton in the Rapture of thy Praise.
Thus thou hast always found me: but till now,
Ne'er came prepar'd to leave thee. I have told thee
The hard Necessity that presses me,
And by my Absence best will be obey'd.

Thel.
Our Marriage sure was ominous: the Storms
That threatned, and the Face of Things
That frown'd upon its Birth, when we were join'd,
Portend succeeding Mischiefs.

Eury.
Not to thee,
My Love? They cannot mean thee any harm:
Safe in thy Innocence, and Sister's Love,
Thy Fears are vain: But I have done those things,
Cleombrotus, tho' I were reconcil'd
To all his Ills, can never pardon me.
Therefore my Safety does advise my Absence now.

Thel.
O take me with you then! This is a World
The Weak will suffer in: and who so weak,
As Woman thus expos'd, thus naked left,
Without the Care—

Eury.
Thou art my dearest Care.

Thel.
Yet I am left behind you—

Eury.
Not expos'd:
O! think not so: my Crites here, my Friend,
Whose Honesty, and faithful Services
Have so renown'd, is thy Security,
Thy Refuge from all Wrongs.

Crit.
Sir, I am bound the Servant of your Fortune.

Thel.
He indeed is truly honest: and 'tis some Relief
Of my Misfortunes that he stays behind.

Crit.
My Life upon the Trust.

Eury.
I know thy Faith.
And farther, Crites, let Bizanthe know
Her near Relation to my Wife does claim
Her, a Companion of this Solitude, during my Absence.

Thel.
Her kind Company will pass away the melancholy Hours.

Crit.
Madam, my Wife shall constantly attend you.

Eury.
Tho' I am forc'd thus to absent my self
From all I love; I shall contrive some Means,
Some friendly Intervals to visit thee:
But then my Coming must be private, made
A Secret, my own Servants not employ'd.
Crites, who has my Reasons, will inform you,
At better Leisure, why I thus proceed.

Thel.
I have sufficient Reasons in your Will,
A Law to me, and shall be so obey'd.

Eury.
He shall be qualify'd from time to time,
To let you know what happens.

Thel.
I must hear
Hourly of your Health. I know not why,
Altho' I know you safe in Crites' Faith,
Yet still my Heart must tremble in its Fears.

Eury.
Only the Tenderness of parting Love
Banish all Fears.

[Exeunt.
Crit.
Ay, so says Crites too,
Security will serve the Turn as well.
Here he disposes in my Hand the Scheme
Of their Designs—so much for State Affairs—
Then he commits his Wife to the Protection of my Care,
And certain Honesty. Why thus he spares
My Pains, and plays the Game into my Hand.
My Honesty! alas! that has long since
Been brib'd by the Ambition of those Hopes,
Cleombrotus must raise to Growth and Power.
Therefore I am his Slave, and act all Parts,
His Spy in Business, and in Love his—what?
The Word indeed is coarse to dainty Ears.
But he that makes his Fortune in this World,
Must sometimes do what he wou'd blush to name.
I wou'd not be observ'd—the Coast is clear—
[Goes to the Door and returns.
The Commerce of the World will have us save
Th'Appearances, and Dress of Decency:
We must put on those Forms, and Features, which
Resemble, and come nearest our Design.
All are not born with handsome Faces; then
Mend 'em, the Ladies will advise,
Paint to the fair Complexion of the Times,
And hide the natural Deformity.
Whom have we here? I wou'd observe unseen—

Celona, enters with Mandrocles, and Thracion cringing to her.
Celo.
News of a Crown, and Royal Dignity,
Is worth a Welcome sure from any Hand.
But when such Men—

Thra.
The Servants of your Will.

Celo.
Such Friends—

Man.
Your honour'd, faithful Slaves.

Celo.
Such worthy Friends!

Mand.
Our Lives, and Interests
Devoted to your Majesty's Command.

Celo.
When such as you are the kind Messengers,
How can my Gratitude express my Thanks!

Mand.
Madam, the Honour of your Royal Hand—

Thra.
O'erpays our Hopes.

[Offering to kiss her Hand, she puts 'em by.
Cleo.
You Brace of courteous, cringing Sycophants!
You double hearted Slaves, and double tongu'd!
Whose hollow Flatteries wou'd win me to
Your rotten Sides, only to prop your Pride.
Avaunt, be gone: But that I scorn, detest
All the Advantages of Place, or Pow'r,
Such despicable, wretched Instruments
Can raise my Fortune to, you shou'd not scape
The common Hangman's Hands—my Thoughts are bent
On Matters more importing than your Death.
But fly in time, hated, and curs'd be gone:
For if you tempt me longer by your stay,
This Dagger shall reward your Villanies.
[Drives 'em off.
How I abhor the odious sight of 'em!
[Crites comes forward.
But here comes one, an honest hearted Man,
And welcome to my Eyes.

Crit.
Madam, you seem
Disturb'd at something; what can be the Cause?

Celo.
A Trifle, Crites, at the first despis'd,
But now forgot; My Sister is within?
Pray let her know I'm here.

Crit.
I'm proud to serve you.

[Exit.
Celo.
Oh! that I cou'd recall the Innocence
Of yesterday: then there were Halcyon Calms!
What a Tranquility, and Peace of Mind,
Employ'd the Hours in Comforts on my Days!
My full Content sate smiling on my Brow,
And laughing in my Heart: now fled far off.

Eurytion with Thelamia and Crites
Eury.
Once more farewell, 'tis hard to part with thee,
But part we must: now, Crites, I am gone.

[Exit with Crites.
Celo.
I did not think, Thelamia, that your Husband
Cou'd pass thus coldly by: methought his Eyes
Were cautious of me, and at distance held,
Glanc'd on me the Suspicion of his Fears.

Thel.
Oh! do not blame Eurytion, tax not him
Of any Fault, but charge it where it is.

Celo.
I bring along with me a Sister's Love;
Wou'd have it so believ'd, and so return'd:
No Spy upon his Actions.

Thel.
You are rais'd
A Partner of that Power he has oppos'd.
From that Reflection, Sister, you must find
My Lord's Excuse; who, banish'd from himself,
And driven from the Temper of his Soul,
The natural Disposition of his Love,
Compell'd and forc'd, appears thus chang'd and cold.

Celo.
Oh Sister! can a Lady show herself
To more Advantage, than in pleading thus
A Husband's Cause? Yet that I am deny'd.
O! 'tis a Theme for the Athenian Song;
And fits the Virtue of a Spartan Wife.

Cleombrotus with Agesilaus to 'em.
Thel.
Here comes the King.

Celo.
Are you turn'd Courtier too?

Ages.
He must have chang'd his Purpose, else he had
Faln into their Ambush.

Cleom.
I am pleas'd
His Flight has scap'd 'em: to Tegæa I know he's gone,
Some two Hours hence I shall have Business ripe
For your Advice.

Ages.
My Duty shall attend your Majesty.

[Exit.
Thel.
'Tis fit I leave you.

Celo.
I wou'd have you stay.

Cleom.
Oh, Madam, are you found? This is a Place
I'm pleas'd to find you in.

Celo.
I'm glad you're pleas'd.

Cleom.
I come, Thelamia, as a Brother ought to visit you.

Thel.
That Title of your Love makes all my Happiness.

Cleom.
I know your Heart is full of Fears, that your soft, gentle Sex,
The Disposition of your Natures takes
More dangerous Impressions of your Fears,
Than Bodies stronger form'd; therefore I come—

Celo.
Like a kind Brother—

Thel.
Heaven grant he prove no more!

Cleom.
I know, in the Obligation of your Blood,
And as becomes the Office of your Love,
You have already told her—

Celo.
Told her, Sir!

Cleom.
Ay, given her all those kind Assurances—

Celo.
Of what, my Lord?

Cleom.
Of me and of my Fortune:
Which, as my Friends shall still command she may
Expect an ample Share in.

Celo.
That Subject, Sir, you best can speak upon.

Cleom.
You shou'd have done it.

Celo.
What Power had I?

Cleom.
You know my Power is yours:
Besides, it must have been a grateful Theme.

Celo.
I thought not so.

Cleom.
How! 'twou'd have pleas'd you sure?

Celo.
Far otherwise.

Cleom.
I thought it might have pleas'd you.

Celo.
No, I do not understand it.

Cleom.
That is strange.

Celo.
Nor care to be instructed.

Cleom.
This proceeds from some more subtle Cause.

Celo.
From a plain Truth:
Nor do I understand how I can give
Her more Assurances, than I myself
Can take from your new Fortune.

Cleom.
That indeed
You cannot well; She has a Sister's Claim,
But you're the Mistress of it, and my Queen.
Come, come, no more of this Indifference,
This Coldness misbecomes your present State,
It looks like Envy of your Happiness,
Which only Fools inflict upon themselves.

Celo.
All Arguments are unavailing now,
Tedious and from the Purpose, and to ask
Why you have thus proceeded, cannot change
The Nature of the Action, or undo
What is already done.

Cleom.
Grant that, and then
We must look forward, where the opening Scene
Discloses Nature, elegantly dress'd,
To welcome us in her inviting Arms:
We have that glorious Prospect now in view.
To turn and wonder at the slippery Paths,
The heavy Steps, the difficult Degrees,
By which we rose, were to deny ourselves
Those Pleasures, which invited first our Hopes,
And wou'd reward our Pains No, Madam, no—

Celo.
Oh! Sister, witness to my Virtue now,
Which tempted thus, thus courted to a Throne,
And by the Man, who has all Charms for me,
Stands yet resolv'd.

Thel.
Of what?

Cleom.
Resolv'd!

Celo.
Oh Sir, were it a Task for every common Strength
To undertake, it were no Part for me:
But loving as I do, and so belov'd!
Prosperity inviting every Sense,
With various Arts, to unprovide my Mind!
What but a Spartan Spirit can sustain
The Shock of such Temptations; thus resolve
To leave the Comforts of your Bed and Throne,
And live a Mourner for a Husband's Crimes?

Cleom.
How! How! Celona! wou'd Thelamia e'er
Have us'd Eurytion thus?

Celo:
He never wou'd
Have given her this Cause: my Life, my Love,
My Fortune, my Obedience, all are yours;
But of my eternal Part, my death less Fame,
I am the Mistress, and must here command.
True Sorrow only lives within the Heart,
And in our Actions best is understood.
Therefore my Virtue will allow no Mean—
I must renounce your Power, or share your Crimes.

Cleom.
This Virtue which you senslesly affect,
Is a Plebeian. Weakness in your Soul.
A poor degenerate Fear of what may be,
Which nobler Minds can never apprehend.

Celo.
My Lord! my Lord! I was not born to fear;
My Country places me above my Sex:
I am a Spartan born, can know no Fears
But of Dishonour, and I wou'd be still
A Coward in these Fears.

Thel.
Where will this end?

Celo.
But you are pleas'd to tax me, in your Phrase,
Of a Plebeian Weakness: Sir, I scorn
A groveling Soul; I have a Mind as high,
As generously inspir'd with Royal Thoughts,
As enterprizing, great, and glorious,
As e'er Ambition prompted to a Crown.

Cleom.
Give me but a Proof of this.

Celo.
I will.

Cleom.
I ask no more.

Celo.
The highest Proof. Oh! were what you posses,
A Fortune nobly rais'd in the Defence
Of Rites insulted, or invaded Laws!
Your Crown, the Thanks of a free'd Peoples Love!
The Gift of vindicated Liberty!
A Wreath of Triumph over Tyranny!
The glorious Spoil of Arbitrary Power,
Wrested and torn from an Oppressor's Hand!
Oh! were it so deserv'd, and so bestow'd,
How could I dress that Brow, and deck my own!
What Plots, what Factions, what Conspiracies,
What impudent Rebellion should oppose
Your Title then! I have a Royal Soul
Wou'd throw me on my Fate, never to rest,
Till I were in the Grave, or on the Throne.

Cleom.
Exert that Royal Soul, let it still reign.

Celo.
I will, and as I wou'd all Dangers undertake,
To share the Godlike Power of doing Good;
So from that sacred Right of Sovereignty,
I scorn the Privilege of doing Ill.
No generous Motive from the Publick Cause,
But an Impulse of impotent Desire,
The wandring Lust of a licentious Will,
Has hurry'd you, to violate all Laws,
Which stood between you and your impious Ends,
'Tis therefore I abhor your Tyranny,
That base-born Issue of unlawful Might!
Begot upon the Fears of bad Mens Crimes,
Or prostituted slavish Principles;
Cradled in Infamy, and rear'd in Vice,
Fatted with Feasts of undeserved Praise!
Blown up with Flattery to a Giant Size
Of Rapine, and oppressive Insolence,
To trample down the Bounds of Property,
And seize the common Birth-right, Liberty.
This is the Monster Idol you set up,
Which, in the Pride of Virtue, I despise,
And in that Pride I go—But do not think
You can be safe, you and your dark Designs
Long cannot prosper; nay, by Hercules,
The Father of our Empire, I hope they wo'not long:
Nay, I myself will head my Country's Cause
Against your Crimes—But Oh! the Conflict here!
You judging Gods! whose Sentence has assign'd
To wretched Mortals our proportion'd Share
Of Labour, and our Recompence of Fame
For Virtuous Actions, look in Pity on me:
Compose this tost, this tempest-beaten Breast,
With different Tides of swelling Woe oppress'd;
By turns sustain the Daughter and the Wife,
Or sink Celona in the glorious Strife.

[Exit.
Cleom.
You wo' not leave me too?

Thel.
I'll follow her, and bring her back.

Cleom.
O! you may spare your pains.
Her Fury must have way; shes best alone,
And we as well without her.

Thel.
How, my Lord!
You do not speak your Thoughts, you cannot mean—

Cleom.
I can mean only thee! All that thy Pray'rs
Can ask of Heav'n, all that the Gods can grant
In answer of thy Wishes, all be thine
Eternal Youth, an Ever-rising Spring
Of smiling Beauty, in its blushing Bloom,
Make thee the Pride and Wish of Hearts and Eyes:
All Joys, all Blessings, which long happy Years
Of Empire can bestow, I mean to thee.

Thel.
Where wou'd this lead me?

Cleom.
O! thou canst not be
So dull, Thelamia, not to apprehend
What this intends: I wou'd prepare thee thus
By soft degrees, gently engage thy Ear,
In favour of a Cause, which I must plead,
And thou must judge.

Thel.
My Sentence will be mild.

Cleom.
Indeed thy Looks are wondrous pitiful:
Thy Heart's a-kin to 'em.

Thel.
I mean, my Lord,
I may prove partial, and pronounce for you,
As you're my King, and Brother.

Cleom.
O that Word!
Wou'd I were more than that, or not so much.
That Brother is too cold: canst thou not find
A nearer Name? one nearer to thy Love,
That better can bespeak thee.

Thel.
There is none;
No Name, in the Relation of our Blood,
Kindred, or Family, nearer ally'd
To our Affections, than a Brother is;
Husband is only more,

Cleom.
And yet you see
I am forsaken: nay, Thelamia, you
Ev'n you're abandon'd by a Husband too.
Good Gods! what is this Marriage? that so soon
Depraves our Appetites, that thus prefers
Vile Things to pretious? It comes like Frost
Upon a forward Spring: the Flower of Youth,
Wanton in gay Desires, here nipt, shrinks in
With all its Sweets, drooping the tender Head
Upon its Stalk, no worthier than a Weed.

Thel.
You're merry, Sir, with our Condition.

Cleom.
Who but a Husband ever cou'd persuade
His Heart to leave the Bosom of thy Love,
For any phlegmatick Design of State,
Of Life, or Fortune? But he's satisfied,
And I shou'd not complain: his Absence makes
Me room for my Desires—

Thel.
Desires, my Lord!

Cleom.
We are forsaken, but not quite forlorn;
Not destitute of Comfort: there remains
A Recompence—

Thel.
A Recompence!

Cleom.
Rich as my Hopes—

Thel.
What Hopes?

Cleom.
That seems intended by our very Fates,
Designingly removing every Bar,
To make our way to one another's Arms.
Why do you fly me?

Thel.
O! I now perceive my Ruin plain.

Cleom.
What can you fear in me?

Thel.
I am most miserable.

Cleom.
How?

Thel.
No more;
I've heard too much: it was too great a Wrong
Ev'n to suspect my Virtue; but to explain
Your guilty Thoughts, is such a Privilege
Your high Place only gives you: and from this
I fear a future Tyranny.

Cleom.
Away!
My Thoughts, my every Word, my Actions,
Are Slaves to the Obedience of thy Will,
Nor can assume a Privilege from Pow'r
Of violating thee: but Want will speak,
And all my Want is Love.

Thel.
Call it not Love;
Coming from you, it has another Name,
Too horrid for the Ear. Were I that Wretch;
Were ev'ry Light extinguish'd in the Mind,
Which brightens Virtue, and shews Vice most foul;
Were I forsaken of all Sense of Good,
Abandon'd, and led captive to all Ill:
One, whose experienc'd Wickedness cou'd prove
Adultery no Sin: yet, ev'n there,
Among the common Rout, you cou'd not hope:
Tho' I were fear'd against all other Sins,
Incest wou'd make me tremble: Sure it is
On this Side Hell known only in the Name:
A Reprobate so lost; there cannot be
So damn'd a Reprobate to act it, sure!

Cleom.
Why, Madam, do you think I cou'd proceed
Thus far, upon this Subject, without Thought,
A serious judging Sense of Good and Ill?
I have a Soul like you, a Conscience too,
That apprehends the Terror of such Guilt;
With Fears as nice as yours; and, but I know
My loving you cannot be any Crime.—

Thel.
I have a Refuge yet, a Dagger here.

[Aside.
Cleom.
Brother, and Sister, are but Terms of Art,
Occasionally fashion'd to the Ends
Of Government; as Marriage is no more
Than a mere human Obligation;
Of no more Force than is ordain'd by Pow'r;
Which, as it ties the Knot, unties it too:
And I ordain it shall no longer bind.

Thel.
O! Sir, consider.—

Cleom.
All that you can say,
I have consider'd. I have curs'd my Fate,
But how does that avail me? Curs'd my self,
And the repented Rashness of my Youth,
Whose unadvising Folly gave me to
Your Sister's Bed, now surfeited and loath'd.

Thel.
Can you repent your Marriage?

Cleom.
Curses can't mend my Condition; yet I must curse
Eurytion, all the World, that comes between
Me and my Joys in thee. But this is wild,
Quite from my Purpose, idly losing Time,
Whose precious Minutes, as they pass along,
May bring me Comforts: O! there can be none,
But in thy Arms; there I must find my Joys,
Or never find 'em.—

[He pressing her, she draws a Dagger.
Thel.
Find 'em in the Grave.

Cleom.
A Dagger! arm'd against me!

Thel.
Stir not a Step: I wear it for my self,
If you attempt me farther.

Cleom.
Have a Care; You wonnot wound yourself?

Thel.
A Thousand Wounds
This, as the Guard of Virtue, shall bestow,
Rather than leave me to your brutal Will,
The Murder of my Fame.

Cleom.
This wonnot do:
I must try other Means.

[Aside.
Thel.
I know I'm within your Pow'r, expos'd to your wild Rage:
But Death's a Sanctuary from all Wrongs,
And that I can command.

Cleom.
O! only die
The guilty Memory of what is past,
My Sin, and now my Shame.

Thel.
Can you say so, and not repent?

Cleom.
But you cannot forgive:
I can't forgive myself: I've done those Things
Which Pardon cannot reach.

Thel.
If this be true—

Cleom.
I cannot look upon that injur'd Face—
Now to dissemble well—without a Guilt,
That quite confounds me.

Thel.
May the Gods, whom you
Have injur'd most, forgive you.

Cleom.
I have wrong'd you.

Thel.
I freely pardon you.

Cleom.
How have I slept! your Virtue only cou'd
Restore me to myself: I tremble, now,
At the Apprehension of my Wickedness,
Of monst'rous Size, and fearful to conceive.
But my Repentance sets all right again.
Sister, Farewel—this Victory is yours.
[Leads her to the Door
The next be mine, these Measures but begin,
What Love by Stratagem, or Force, must win.

[Exit