University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

SCENE. The General's House.
Enter the King.
King.
Here dwells my stubborn Fair, I'll sooth her Pride,
And lay an humbled Monarch at her Feet.
But let her well consider if she's slow
To welcome Bliss, and dead to Glory's Charms,
Then my Resentment rises in Proportion
To this high Grace extended to my Slave,
And turns the Force of her own Charms against her:
Monarchs may Court, but cannot be Deny'd.
Enter the Queen veiled.
Amelia, dry thy Tears, and lay aside
That melancholly Veil.—Ha, Myris!

Queen.
Myris.
A Name that should like Thunder strike thine Ear,
And make thee tremble in this guilty Place:
But wherefore do'st thou think I meet thee here,
Not with mean Sighs, and deprecating Tears
To humble me before thee, and increase
The Number of thy Slaves, in hope to break
Thy Resolution, and avert thy Crime;
But to denounce, if thou shalt dare persist,
The Vengeance due to injur'd Heav'n, and me;
And by this Warning double thy Offence:
Think, think of Vengeance, 'tis the only Joy
Which thou hast left me; I'm no more thy Wife,
Nor Queen; but know, I am a Woman still.

Enter Auletes.
Aul.
May all the Gods watch o'er your Life and Empire,
And render Omens vain! so fierce the Storm,
Old Memphis from her deep Foundations shakes,
And such unheard-of Prodigies hang o'er us,
As make the Boldest tremble: See the Moon
Robb'd of her Light, discolour'd, without Form,
Appears a bloody Sign, hung out by Jove
To speak Peace broken with the Sons of Men:
The Nile, as frighted, shrinks within its Banks,
And as this Hour I past Great Isis' Temple,
A sudden Flood of Light'ning rush'd upon it,
And laid the Shrine in Ashes.

King.
Oh Mighty Isis!
Why all these Signs in Nature? why this Tumult
To tell me I am guilty? if my Crown
The Fates demand, why let them take it back.
My Crown indeed I may resign; but Oh!
Who can awake the Dead?—
'Tis hence these Spectres shock my midnight Thoughts,
And Nature's Laws are broke to discompose me;
'Tis I that whirl these Hurricanes in Air,
And shake the Earth's Foundations with my Guilt.
Oh Myris, give me back my Innocence!

Queen.
I bought it with an Empire.

King.
Cheaply sold!
Why did'st thou urge my lifted Arm to strike
The pious King, when my own Heart recoil'd?

Queen.
Why did you yield when urg'd, and by a Woman,
You that are vain of your superior Reason,
And swell with the Prerogative of Man?
If you succeed, our Counsel is of nought;
You own it, not accepted, though enjoy'd;
But steal the Glory, and deny the Favour;
Yet if a fatal Consequence attend,
Then we're the Authors, then your treacherous Praise
Allows us Sense enough to be condemn'd.

King.
'Tis prudent to dissemble with her Fury,
And wait a softer Season for my Love.
[Aside.
Bid Isis' Priests attend their King's Devotions,
I'll sooth with Sacrifice the angry Pow'rs;
Swift to my Dungeons, bid their darksome Wombs
Give up the numerous Captives of my Wars,
Ten thousand Lives to Heav'n devoutly pour,
Nor let the sacred Knife grow cool from Blood,
Till seven-fold Nile infected with the Stain,
In all his Streams flows Purple to the Main.
[Exit.

Queen.
Thin Artifice! I know the Sacrifice
You most intend.—But I will dash your Joys;
Thou, Victim, and thy Goddess both shall feel me.

Aul.
Madam, the Prince.

Queen.
And is he still afflicted?

Aul.
It grieves your faithful Servant to relate it;
He struggles manfully; but all in vain;
Sometimes he calls in Musick to his Aid,
He strives with Martial Strains to fire his Blood,
And rouze his Soul to Battle.—
Then he relapses into Love again,
Feeds the Disease, and doats upon his Ruin.

Queen.
Why seeks he here the Cause of all his Sorrows?

Aul.
He seeks not here Mandane, but her Father;
For Friendship is the Balm of all our Cares,
Melts in the Wound, and softens ev'ry Fate.

[Martial Musick.
Enter Myron at a distance.
Queen.
Heav'ns! what a Glory blazes from his Eye?
What Force! what Majesty in every Motion,
As at each Step he trod upon a Foe?

Myr.
O that this Ardor wou'd for ever last!
It shall; nor will I curse my Being more;
Chain'd Kings, and conquer'd Kingdoms are before me;
I'll bend the Bow, and launch the whistling Spear,
Bound o'er the Mountains, plunge into the Stream,
Where thickest Fauchions gleam, and Helmets blaze,
Rush in, and find Amusement from my Pain.
I'll number my own Heart among my Foes,
And Conquer it, or Dye.
[Exit.

Queen.
The Thoughts of War
Will soon dislodge the Fair One from his Breast—
But this has broken in on my Intent—
I wou'd remind thee of my late Commands.

Aul.
Madam, 'tis needless to remind your Slave:
At dead of Night I set the Prisoners free.

Queen.
Yes, set the Prisoners free—'tis great Revenge,
Such as my Soul pants after—It becomes me.
Oh it will gall the Tyrant! Stab him home,
And if one Spark of Gratitude survives,
Soften Syphoces to my fond Desire.
The Tyrant's Torment is my only Joy,
Ye Gods! or let me Perish, or Destroy,
Or rather both; for what has Life to boast
When Vice is tastless grown, and Virtue lost?
Glory and Wealth I call upon in vain,
Nor Wealth, nor Glory can appease my Pain;
My every Joy upbraids me with my Guilt,
And Triumphs tell me sacred Blood is spilt.
[Exit Queen.

Enter Myron.
Myr.
The shining Images of War are fled,
The fainting Trumpets languish in mine Ear,
The Banner's furl'd, and all the sprightly Blaze
Of burnish'd Armour, like the setting Sun,
Insensibly is vanish'd from my Thought:
No Battel, Siege, or Storm sustain my Soul
In wonted Grandeur, and fill out my Breast;
But Softness steals upon me, melting down
My rugged Heart in Languishment and Sighs,
And pours it out at my Mandane's Feet.—
I see her even this Moment stand before me,
Too Fair for Sight, and fatal to behold,
I have her here, I clasp her in my Arms;
And in the Madness of excessive Love
Sigh out my Heart, and bleed with Tenderness.

Aul.
My Lord, too much you cherish this Delusion;
She is another's.

Myr.
Do not tell me so.
Say rather she is dead: Each heav'nly Charm
Turn'd into Horror! Oh the Pain of Pains,
Is when the Fair One, whom our Soul is fond of,
Gives Transport, and receives it from another!—
How does my Soul burn up with strong Desire,
Now shrink into it self! Now blaze again!
I'll tear and rend the Strings that tye me to her:
If I stay longer here I am undone.

As he is going, Enter Nicanor.
Nic.
My Prince, (and since such Honours you vouchsafe)
My Friend, I have presum'd upon your Favour;
This is my Daughter's Birth-day, and this Night
I dedicate to Joys, which ever languish,
If you refuse to crown them with your Presence.

Myr.
Nicanor, I was warm on other Thoughts.—

Nic.
I am still near you in the Day of Danger,
In toilsome Marches, and the bloody Field,
When Nations against Nations clash in Arms,
And half a People in one Groan expire;
Why am I, with your Helmet, thrown aside,
Cast off, and useless in the hour of Peace?

Myr.
Since then you press it, I must be your Guest.—
Methinks I labour as I onward move,
As under Cheque of some controuling Power.
[Aside.
What can this mean? Wine may relieve my Thoughts,
And Mirth and Converse lift my Soul again.

[Exeunt.
The back Scene draws and shows a Banquet. Enter Mandane richly dress'd.
Mand.
It was this Day that gave me Life, this Day
Shou'd give much more, shou'd give me Memnon too;
But I am Rival'd by his Chains, they clasp
The Heroe round, (a cold, unkind Embrace!)
And but an Earnest of far worse to come.
While he, my Soul, in Dungeon Darkness clos'd,
Breaths damp unwholsome Steams, and lives on Poison;
I am compell'd to suffer Ornaments,
To wear the Rainbow, and to blaze in Gems.
To put on all the shining Guilt of Dress,
When 'tis almost a Crime that I still live:
These Eyes, which can't dissemble, pouring forth
The dreadful Truth, are honest to my Heart.
These Robes, O Memnon! are Mandane's Chains,
And load, and gall, and wring her bleeding Heart.
[Exit Mandane.

Enter Myron, Nicanor, Auletes, &c. They take their Places.
Nic.
Sound louder, sound, and waft my Wish to Heav'n.
Hear me, ye righteous Gods, and grant my Prayer,
For ever shine propitious on my Daughter,
Protect her, prosper her, and when I'm Dead,
Still bless me in Mandane's Happiness—
[The Bowl goes round. Musick.
Haste, call my Daughter; none can taste of Joy
Till she, the Mistress of the Feast, is with us.
A Servant brings Nicanor a Letter, he reads it.
The King's Commands at any Hour are welcome.

Myr.
Not leave us, General?

Nic.
Ha! The King here writes me,
The discontented Populace that held
O'er Midnight Bowls their desperate Cabals,
Are now in bold Defiance to his Power.
Amid the Terrors of this Stormy Night,
Even now they Deluge all yon Western Vale,
And form a War, impatient for the Day.
The spreading Poyson too has caught his Troops,
And the Revolting Soldiers stand in Arms
Mix'd with Seditious Citizens.

Myr.
Your Call is great.

Enter Mandane. Myron starts from his Seat in Disorder
Mand.
Oh Memnon! How shall I become a Banquet
Suppress my Sorrow, and comply with Joy?
Severest Fate! Am I denied to grieve?

[Aside
Nic.
Be comforted, my Child, I'll soon return.
Why dost thou make me blush? I feel my Tears
Run trickling down my Cheek.

Myr.
I must away:
Her Smiles were dreadful, but her Tears are Death.
I can no more: I sink beneath her Charms,
And feel a deadly Sickness at my Heart.

[Aside to Auletes.
Nic.
Your Cheek is pale, I dare not let you part,
You are not well.—

Myr.
A small Indisposition,
I soon shall throw it from me: Farewell, General;
Conquest attend your Arms.

Nic.
You shall not leave
Your Servant's Roof, 'tis an unwholesome Air,
And my Apartment wants a Guest.

Myr.
Nicanor,
If Health returns, I shall not press my Couch,
And hear of distant Conquests; but o'ertake thee;
And add new Terrors to the Front of War.

Nic.
Mean time, You are a Guardian to my Child,
Let her not miss a Father in my Absence,
She's all my Soul holds dear.

Both.
Farewell. Farewell.
[Embrace.

[Nicanor waits on Myron off the Stage, and returns.
Nic.
My Child, I feel a Tenderness at Heart
I never felt before; come near, Mandane,
Let me gaze on thee, and indulge the Father.—
Thy dying Mother with her Clay-cold Hand
Press'd mine, then turning on thee her faint Eye,
Let fall a Tear of Fondness, and expir'd.—
I cannot love thee well enough, her Grace
Softens thy Cheek, and lives within thine Eye,
Let me embrace you Both.—My Heart o'erflows.—
If I should fall.—Thy Mother's Monument.—
But I shall kill thy Tenderness.—No more,
Nay, do not weep, I shall return again,
And with my dearest Child sit down in Peace,
And long enjoy her Goodness.

Mand.
If the Gods
Regard your Daughter's fervent Vows, you will.

Nic.
Farewell my only Care, my Soul is with thee,
Regard your self, and you remember me.
[Exit.

Enter Myron and Auletes.
Myr.
No Place can give me Ease, my restless Thought,
Like working Billows in a troubled Sea,
Tosses me to and fro, nor know I whither.
What am I, who, or where? Ha! where indeed!
But let me pause, and ask my self again
If I am well awake.—Impetuous Bliss!—
My Heart leaps up, my mounting Spirits blaze;
My Soul is in a Tempest of Delight!

Aul.
My Lord, you tremble, and your Eyes betray
Strange Tumults in your Breast.

Myr.
What Hour of Night?

Aul.
My Lord, the Night's far spent.

Myr.
The Gates are barr'd,
And all the Houshold is compos'd to Rest?

Aul.
All: And the great Nicanor's own Apartment,
Proud to receive a Royal Guest, expects you.

Myr.
Perdition on thy Soul for naming him.
Nicanor! Oh I never shall sleep more!
Defend me! Whether wander'd by bold Thoughts!
Broke loose from Reason, how did they run mad!
And now they are come home, all arm'd with Stings,
And pierce my bleeding Heart.—
I beg the Gods to disappoint my Crime,
Yet almost wish them deaf to my Desire;
I long, repent; repent, and long again,
And every Moment differs from the last.
I must no longer parley with Destruction.
Auletes, seize me, force me to my Chamber,
There chain me down, and guard me from my self,
Hell rises in each Thought, 'tis time to fly.

[Exeunt.
Enter Mandane and Rameses.
Ram.
I hope your Fears have given a false Alarm.

Mand.
You've heard my frequent Visions of the Night,
You know my Father's Absence, Myron's Passion;
Just now I met him, at my Sight he started,
Then with such ardent Eyes he wander'd o'er me,
And gaz'd with such Malignity of Love,
Sending his Soul out to me in a Look
So fiercely kind, I trembled, and retired.

Ram.
No more; my Friends (which as I have inform'd you,
The Queen to gall the Tyrant has set free)
Are lodg'd within your Call, the appointed Signal,
If Danger threatens, brings them to your Rescue.

Mand.
Where are they?

Ram.
In the Hall beneath your Chamber.
Memnon alone is wanting; He's providing
For your Escape before the Morning Dawn:
The rest in Vizors, fearing to be known,
Have ventur'd thro' the Streets for your Protection.

Mand.
Auspicious Turn! then I again am happy.

Ram.
Auspicious Turn indeed! and what compleats
The Happiness, the base Man that betray'd us,
This Arm laid low: I watch'd him from the King,
I took him warm, while he with lifted Brow
Confess'd high Thought, and triumph'd in his Mein,
I thank'd him with my Dagger in his Heart.
'Tis late, refresh your self with Sleep, Mandane.
[Exit Mandane.
So, 'tis resolv'd, if Myron dares attempt
So black a Crime, it justifies the Blow;
He dyes, and my poor Brother's Ghost shall smile.
This Way he bends his Steps, I hate his Sight,
And shall, till Death has made it lovely to me.
[Exit.

Enter Myron and Auletes.
Myr.
Oh how this Passion like a Whirlpool drives me,
With giddy, rapid Motion round and round,
I know not where, and draws in all my Soul!
I reason much; but Reason about her,
And where she is, all Reason dyes before her;
And Arguments but tell me I am conquer'd.—
So black the Night, as if no Star e'er shone
In all the wide Expanse, the Light'ning's Flash
But shews the Darkness, and the bursting Clouds
With Peals of Thunder seem to rock the Land:
Not Beasts of Prey dare now from Shelter roam,
But howl in Dens, and make the Forrest groan,
What then am I? a Monster yet more fell,
Than haunts the Wilds?—I am, and threaten more:
My Breast is darker than this dreadful Night,
And feels a fiercer Tempest rage within.—
I must—I will—this leads me to her Chamber—
Did not the Raven croak?
[Starting.

Aul.
I hear her not.

Myr.
By Heav'n, methinks Earth trembles under me.—
Awake, ye Furies, you are wanting to me,
O finish me in Ill, O take me whole;
Or Gods confirm me good, without Allay,
Nor leave me thus at Variance with my self;
Let me not thus be dash'd from side to side.—
The old Man wept at parting, kneel'd before me,
Confided in me, gave her to my Care,
Nor long since sav'd my Life—and doubt I still?
I'm guilty of the Fact, here let me lye,
And rather groan for ever in the Dust
And float the Marble Pavement with my Tears,
Than rise into a Monster.

[Flings himself down.
Mandane passing at a Distance, speaks to a Servant.
Mand.
Well observe me.
Before the rising Sun my Lord arrives,
To seal our Vows the Holy Priest is with him;
Watch to receive them at the Western Gate,
And privately conduct them to my Chamber.

[Exit.
Myr.
starting up.]
Oh Torment! Racks! and Flames! then she expects him!
With open Arms! Am I cast out for ever,
For ever must despair, unless I snatch
The present Moment? She is all prepar'd,
Her Wishes waking, and her Heart on Fire!
That pow'rful Thought sweeps Heav'n and Hell before it,
And lays all open to the Prince of Egypt;
Born to enjoy whatever he desires,
And fling Fear, Anguish, and Remorse behind him.
I see her midnight Dress, her flowing Hair,
Her slacken'd Bosom, her relenting Mien;
All the forbidding Forms of Day flung off
For yielding Softness—Oh I'm all Confusion!
I shiver in each Joint!—Ah! she was made
To justifie the blackest Crimes, and gild
Ruin and Death with her destructive Charms.

Aul.
You'll force her then.

Myr.
Thou Villain but to think it.
No, I'll sollicit her with all my Pow'r,
Conquest and Crowns shall sparkle in her Sight.
If she consent, thy Prince is bless'd indeed,
Takes Wing, and Tow'rs above Mortality:
If she resist, I put an End to Pain,
And lay my breathless Body at her Feet.

Mandane passing at a distance to her Chamber, Myron meets her.
Mand.
Is this well done, my Lord?

Myr.
Condemn me not
Before you hear me; let this Posture tell you,
I'm not so Guilty as perhaps your Fears,
Your commendable, modest Fears suspect:
Nay, do not go, you know not what you do;
I wou'd receive a Favour, not constrain it;
Return, or good Nicanor, best of Fathers,
Shall charge you with the Murder of his Friend.

Mand.
And dare you then pronounce that sacred Name,
And yet persist! Were you his mortal Foe
What cou'd your Malice more?

Myr.
Oh Fair Mandane?
I know my Fault, I know your Virtue too,
But such the Violence of my Disorder,
That I dare tempt even you: Methinks that Guilt
Has something lovely which proclaims your Power—
But touch me with your Hand, I dye with Bliss.
Why swells your Eye? By Heav'n I'd rather see
All Nature mourn, than you let fall a Tear.
I own I'm mad, but I am mad of Love:
You can't condemn me more, than I my self,
In that we are agreed, agree in all.
Condemn, but pity me; resent, but yield;
For oh, I burn, I rave, I dye with Love!

Mand.
Oh Sir!—

Myr.
Nay, do not weep so, it will kill me;
This Moment, while I speak, my Eyes are darken'd,
I cannot see thee, and my trembling Limbs
Refuse to bear their Weight; all left of Life
Is that I Love, if Love was in our Power
The fault were mine, since not, you must comply.
How God-like to bestow more heav'nly Joys
Than you can think, and I support, and live?

Mand.
Oh, how can you abuse your sacred Reason,
That Particle of Heav'n, that Soul of Jove,
To varnish o'er and paint so black a Crime!—
Oh Prince!—

Myr.
What says Mandane?

Mand.
Sir, observe me,
My bursting Sighs, and ever streaming Tears;
Your noble Nature has with Pity seen;
But wou'd they not work deeper in your Soul,
Were you convinc'd my Sorrows flow for you;
For you, my Lord, they flow, for I am safe,
(I know you are surpriz'd) they flow for you.
Myron, my Father's Friend, my Prince, my Guest—
Myron, my Guardian God, attempts my Peace,
And need I further Reason for these Tears?
Nature affords no Object of Concern
So great, as to behold a generous Mind,
Driven by a sudden Gust, and dash'd on Guilt—
'Tis base, you ought not; 'tis impracticable;
You cannot—Make Necessity your Choice;
Nor let one Moment of defeated Guilt,
Of fruitless Baseness, overthrow the Glory
Your whole Illustrious Life has dearly bought
In toilsome Marches, and in Fields of Blood.

Enter Auletes and Servants.
Aul.
My Lord, your Life's beset; the Room beneath
Is throng'd with Ruffians, which but wait the Signal
To rush, and sheath their Daggers in your Heart.

Myr.
Betray'd, curst Sorceress, it was a Plot
Concerted by them all to take my Life,
And this the Bait to tempt me to the Foil.
She dies—

Aul.
No, first Enjoy, then Murther her—
Trust to my Conduct, and you still are safe.
They all are Mask'd, I have my Vizor too,
But Time is short; for once confide in me.
You, Sir, for Safety, fly to your Apartment;
[To the Prince.
You bear Mandane to her Closet—You
[To Servants.
Speed to the Southern Gate, and burst it open.

[As the Servants seize Mandane, she gives the Signal. She is born off.
Enter Ramases and Conspirators Mask'd.
Ram.
The Villain fled? Perdition intercept him!
Disperse, fly several ways, let each Man bear
A steady Point well levell'd at his Heart;
If he escapes us now, Success attend him,
May he for ever Triumph!

As they pass the Stage in Confusion, Auletes enters Mask'd among them.
Aul.
Ha! Why halt you!
Pursue, pursue, e'en now I saw the Monster,
The Villain Myron, with these Eyes I saw him
Bearing his Prize swift to the Western Gate:
There, there it burst.

A Noise without.
All.
Away, pursue.

Aul.
'Tis done
[Without.
Advance the Massey Bar, and all is safe;
Stand here, and with your Lives defend the Pass.

Enter Myron.
Myr.
I shall at least have time for Vengeance on her,
And then I care not if I die. Barbarians!
Their Swords are pointed at my Life! 'Tis well
But I will give them an Excuse for Murder,
Such, such a Cause—Off Love, and soft Compassion;
Harden each Sinew of my Heart to Steel.
I'll do, what done will shock my self, and those,
Whom Time sets farthest from their dreadful Hour.

Enter Mandane forc'd in by Auletes.
Mand.
By all the Pow'rs that can revenge a Falshoood,
I'm innocent from any Thoughts of Blood.

Myr.
Why then your Champions here in Arms? 'Tis false.

Mand.
Ah let my Life suffice you for the Wrong
You Charge upon me! Oh my Royal Master!
My Safety from all Ill! My great Defender!
Or did my Father but insult my Tears,
And give me to your Care to suffer Wrong;
Kill me, but not your Friend, but not my Father;
He loves us both, and my severe Distress
Will scarce more deeply Wound him than your Guilt.

[Myron walks passionately at a distance.
Myr.
Slaves, are you sworn against me? Stop her Voice,
And bear her to my Chamber.

Mand.
Oh Sir! Oh Myron!
Behold my Tears—here I will fix for ever—
I'll clasp your Feet—and grow into the Earth
Oh cut me, hue me,—give to every Limb
A separate Death—but spare my spotless Virtue,—
But spare my Fame—You wound to distant Ages—
And thro' all Time my Memory will bleed.

Myr.
Distraction! all the Pains of Hell are on me!

[As Servants force in Mandane,
Mand.
Oh Memnon!—Oh my Lord!—my Life!—where art Thou?
[She is born off.

[Myron expresses sudden Passion and Surprize, stands awhile fixed in Astonishment, then speaks.
Myr.
As many Accidents concur to work
My Passions up to this unheard-of Crime,
As if the Gods design'd it—be it then
Their Fault, not Mine—Memnon! said she not Memnon?
My Heart began to stagger, but 'tis over—
Heav'n blast me if thought it possible
I could be still more curst—That hated Dog
Her Lord, her Life!—I thank her for my Cure
Of all Remorse, and Pity; This has left me
Without a Check, and thrown the loosen'd Reins
On my wild Passion to rush headlong on;
And in her Ruin quench a double Fire,
The blended Rage of Vengeance and of Love.
Destruction full of Transport! lo I come
Swift on the Wing, to meet my certain Doom:
I know the Danger, and I know the Shame;
But like our Phœnix, in so rich a Flame
I plunge Triumphant my devoted Head,
And doat on Death in that Luxurious Bed.