 | The Spartan Dame |  |
28
Act III.
Scene I.
Agesilaus and Crites.Ages.
That Way I have my Wish; but Celona! she
Confounds my Policy: What can she mean?
Crit.
What can she mean? Why she speaks plain enough.
Ages.
I apprehend the fatal Consequence,
Tho' the King won't.
Crit.
Alas, Sir, he's employ'd
In other Fears: Love takes up all his Time:
But the sole Ministry of his Affairs,
The State, you rule.
Ages.
And I had fix'd it sure,
Had not my Ambush for Leonidas been disappointed.
Crit.
I should think, indeed, his Death were well resolv'd.
Ages.
I have advis'd it often, but the King—
Crit.
Dont trouble him.
When 'tis once done, he'll find that 'tis well done.
Ages.
'Tis certainly most necessary.
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If it be necessary, it is just;
And in just Things, sometimes to serve a Prince
Against his Will, is the best Loyalty.
Ages.
Then 'tis our Duty, Crites?
Crit.
Without Doubt;
And more than so, our own Security.
Ages.
What's to be done? There's nothing to be done
Or thought on, where he is—cou'd we decoy
Him here to Sparta—
Crit.
That's impossible.
Ages.
But how? What Means? What Arts?
Crit.
O! there are none.
Ages.
Then think not on't:
He must live on, if tis impossible
To bring him in our Pow'r.
Crit.
Not quite impossible,
But very difficult.
Ages.
Suppose you, you, methinks, might quickly find
Pretences probable in his Affair, to draw him here.
Crit.
What, Sir, if he were here?
Ages.
Here he shou'd stay,
Murder'd as soon as enter'd.
Crit.
Here's a Letter
Will speak what I have thought upon these Things.
Ages.
'Tis to Leonidas.
Crit.
Pray read it.
SIR,
The
Gods declare upon your Side, in their Inspiration
of Celona, whose Virtue, confirm'd by me, has this
Night resolv'd the Murder of the Tyrant. Pray fail
not to head your Friends, who will be ready to serve you.
Crites.
Ages.
This cannot fail:
Her Carriage makes all easy to his Faith:
He will believe, and come.
30
Come! he will come:
Not for those Reasons, which you apprehend,
And might invite another.
Ages.
I cannot guess what you rely on—
Crit.
This. I know the Niceness of his Virtue such,
That when the Letter tells him that his Daughter
Intends her Husband's Murder, he will fly,
To save her from the Sin.
Ages.
He may resolve
To pardon her, and so not make such Haste.
Crit.
O! You are wide of him: Not this Earth's Rule
Cou'd bribe him to consent to such a Crime,
Tho' far remov'd, and distant from his Blood;
But when so near him as a Daughter's Sin,
You need not doubt his Coming.
Ages.
Have you said when he shou'd come?
Crit.
The Postscript says at Twelve.
Ages.
It does, and it appoints your House the Place:
It is the fittest Place.
Crit.
I'm unsuspected:
Give me but your Authority, and some
Convenient Villains, who dare do the Deed,
And he shall fall as soon as enter there.
Ages.
This Letter must be sent.
Crit.
Timæus will convey it speedily—
He waits without—
[Goes to the Door, Timæus takes the Letter.]
Ages.
So, this will make all sure.
Crit.
Fail not upon your Life.
Tim.
My Life upon't.
[Exit.
Crit.
I've order'd him to stay, just 'till he sees
Leonidas set forward, then to come
With his best Speed, and bring me certain Word.
Ages.
You must attend—
Crit.
Only a Love Affair,
Which happens luckily enough, and shall
To-Night employ the King.
31
That will allow
Us Time for our Designs: I'm glad it thrives.
Crit.
O! all goes very well.
Ages.
He's coming forth:
When you're at Leisure, I must speak with you.
[Exit.
Cleombrotus to Crites.
Cleom.
Thou art the Life of Counsel!
It must be just as thou say'st.
Crit.
Indeed, I think it best.
Cleom.
Undoubtedly the best: And I must own
Myself ith' Wrong, as Passion always is,
So like a mad brain'd Boy, to think of Force.
Crit.
I must confess, a violent Remedy
In some despairing Points does very well;
When nothing else will do, 'tis well apply'd,
And then a Rape is necessary. But
Your Case is far from this: She's in your Pow'r,
And cannot 'scape you: Nay, I say agen,
She shannot, Sir; and when I thus declare,
You shall enjoy her any Way you please,
You wou'd not chuse a Violation.
Cleom.
Thou art my Guide of Love.
Crit.
This Way, that I propose,
Shall introduce you for Eurytion,
Give you a free Admission to her Bed,
Which you may satisfy as well as he.
Cleom.
Then for his Care in coming unattended, in the Dark—
Crit.
Unknown of all but me, his faithful Friend.
Cleom.
Makes still for us.
Crit.
All Things must be remov'd,
And silent to receive you.
Cleom.
If she discover me—
Crit.
Why, if she does—
Cleom.
Wou'd it were come to that.
Crit.
Sir, it shall come.
Cleom.
I am impatient.
32
'Tis too early, yet, and you must wait; there is no Remedy.
Cleom.
Then I must wait.
Crit.
The Hour will soon arrive.
Cleom.
Crites, withdraw with me—We must be nice
In every Circumstance of Place, and Time:
Those we'll agree within—This Service done,
My Thanks in thy Reward shall follow soon.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Bed-chamber.Thelamia and Byzanthe.
Thel.
I pity thee, Byzanthe; thy Gayety
Has caught the Infection of my Company,
And thou art melancholy too.
Byz.
I wish I cou'd divert you, Madam.
Thel.
I thank thy Love, my Friend; 'tis growing late;
Yet, e'er I go to Bed, I'll try to read
An Hour away; it may deceive the Time.
Byz.
Please you, I'll stay and wait.
Thel.
—O! by no means:
I am too troublesome, but thou art kind.
[Exit Byzanthe.
Thelamia sits down at a Table, and opens a Book.
Here I gave o'er—The Story seems distress'd:
How will it end! (Reads)
Tarquinius Sextus then,
Pretending on a Journey, late at Night
Came to Collatia, where Lucrece was;
And breaking thro' all hospitable Laws,
At Midnight ravish'd her—O Villainy!
And most unhappy Lady! Collotine!
Where was her Husband then?—
Reads again—
33
My Author, in his Comment on the Fact,
Says, 'twas her Husband's Absence ruin'd her.
O fearful Apprehension! This is just
The State of my Condition—The sad Tale
May ominously represent my Fate
In wrong'd Lucretia—I am helpless now,
As she was then—My Husband absent too,
As hers then was—nay, he has already dar'd
To force the Modesty of my chaste Ears
With the bold brutal Passion of his Love:
And after that—But I have forgiv'n him that,
And he repents—O! it is false and feign'd,
Dissembled, to betray my Faith and me:
Love never is repented, 'till enjoy'd—
And he, perhaps, this Night, nay, now, resolves.
He may be here already—Hark! Who's there?
I dare not stay alone—Byzanthe! where,
Where are you?
Enter Byzanthe.
Byz.
You're disorder'd much.
Thel.
There's something in my Closet.
[Byzanthe takes a Light, and examines.
Byz.
Nothing here.
Thel.
Pray, look again.
Byz.
Only your Fancy, Madam.
Thel.
I thought I heard a Noise.
Byz.
Nothing has stirr'd,
Within your Hearing, since I left you last.
Thel.
Where is your Husband?
Byz.
Gone in some Affair relating to Eurytion.
Thel.
O! he is a faithful honest Friend, wou'd he were here;
All our good Fortune does depend on him.
Byz.
I think I hear him, Madam—
Thel.
Welcome, welcome.
34
Crit.
What, Madam, you have Leisure for a Book.
Thel.
O! Crites, I have met the saddest Tale,
The Rape of Lucrece there—
Crit.
'Tis famous in
The Roman Story; Tarquin ravish'd her.
Thel.
The Circumstances are so near my Case—
Crit.
So near your Case!
Thel.
In all but the sad End.
Crit.
What can she mean!
[Aside.
Thel.
Her Husband was from Home,
As mine is now, the wretched Cause of all.
Crit.
Sure she suspects my Purpose.
[Aside.
Thel.
When I think upon that Midnight Ravisher, I reflect
Upon our Sex's Weakness, thus expos'd,
How easily we are betray'd, or sold, by any one in Trust.
Crit.
There cannot be such Villainy in Men.
Thel.
There shou'd not, sure: Indeed, I was afraid;
But now I think myself securely safe
In thy kind Care.
Crit.
I'm glad you think you are.
Byz.
Have you no News for us?
Crit.
Faith, I have been
In such a Conversation, scarce will please
In Repetition—Marriage was the Theme,
And my Companions its worst Enemies;
They forc'd me to my Heels.
Thel.
What cou'd they say?
Byz.
No Matter what they say.
Crit.
By your good Leave,
These Men will be our Judges—We must stand
The Inquisition of their Raillery
On our Condition—As, to speak the Truth,
Nothing can 'scape their Jest: The Gods and Kings,
35
Must stand, or fall, just as they relish 'em.
We must not think it hard.
Thel.
What do they say?
Byz.
We need not doubt but Marriage has its Load
Of Scandal in the Lewdness of their Mirth.
Crit.
Why, first, they swear the Institution
Was never made in Heav'n
Thel.
That strikes Home.
Crit.
That the malicious Roguery of Age,
Impos'd it first, a Penance on the Pride
Of lusty Youth, to keep their Bodies low,
Dull, constant Slaves to one tir'd fulsom Bed.
Byz.
A Penance do they call it?
Thel.
Pray, Sir, on.
Crit.
That Love was ne'er consulted in the Law;
But that it stands enacted, and ordain'd
To these our Days, that only Interest
Of Fortune, or of Friends, should join our Hands,
No matter for our Hearts.
Thel.
Wicked and Base!
Crit.
Nay, when they once set out, they will go on.
Byz.
They have gone far enough.
Thel.
I'll hear no more.
Crit.
Faith, Madam, you may hear a little more,
And not repent your Pains.
Thel.
How is the Night?
Crit.
Why there's a Question now that brings me Home
Just to my Story's End.
Thel.
That Question! Why?
Crit.
'Tis just about the Time.
Thel.
What Time?
Perhaps you have some Tidings of my Lord.
Crit.
I have indeed.
Thel.
When will he come: I languish in the Thought
Of his Approach: O! Why art thou so long
In News so welcome? Prithee, tell me all;
36
Say that he comes.
Crit.
If you would let me speak.
Thel.
'Tis that I would entreat.
Crit.
Then he will come
In half an Hour, so he sends me Word.
You know his Pleasure is, his Coming shou'd
Be private, his own Servants not employ'd.
Thel.
O! I obey in all. But how cou'dst thou
So long delay the Comfort of thy News?
But I forgive thee.
Crit.
Madam, I must wait
Upon his Coming; you prepare for him,
And I'll convey him to you
[Exit.
Thel.
Byzanthe, I must require your Friendship: Pray dispose
The Business of the Family, as you please,
Out of the Way; I wou'd have all remov'd;
He will observe our Care.
Byz.
Leave that to me.
Thel.
Whilst I prepare to entertain this Guest,
Lodge him in his own Mansion of my Breast,
And make him happy, as he makes me blest.
[Exeunt.
Scene changes to a Street. Crites alone.
Crit.
Thus far with Wind and Tide! Things are dispos'd
Just to my Wish to carry on the Cheat.
Where is my Lover now? 'Tis just his Time—
He can't be far—I had forgot the Sign—
Not answer me? Nay, then he is not come—
Well, our Employment must have Patience.
Enter Eurytion.
Eury.
What Sign was that?
Crit.
O! You are punctual, Sir.
37
Rather before my Time.
Crit.
Eurytion here!
[Aside.
Indeed, my Lord, something before your Time:
I did not look for you.
Eury.
How am I punctual then?
Crit.
Punctual, my Lord?
Eury.
Did you expect another?
Crit.
Yes, indeed, I did expect another, a good Friend,
Not such a Friend: I have my Scouts abroad,
And must be ready for 'em; yet you come
As I cou'd wish, to warn you: Dangers, Sir,
Are every where: This is no Place, retire,
You may be seen.
Eury.
I'll follow thy Advice.
Crit.
Go not in there.
Eury.
My Safety must be here.
[Exit.
Crit.
What shall I do? Death! Something must be done.
[Exit.
Cleombrotus enters.
Cleom.
The Servants still are stirring in the House;
I heard 'em talk: I'll take another Turn.
[Exit.
Crites returns with Eurytion.
Crit.
This House, you may be sure, Sir, wonnot 'scape
The strictest Search—
Eury.
Not if so general.
Crit.
Nor will be less suspected, being Yours.
Eury.
Much more suspected.
Crites.
But that Sign!
What cou'd it mean? So late about my Doors,
Just as I came to thee?
Crit.
I heard it too. Wou'd you were Safe.
Eury.
Well, Crites, I am gone.
Crit.
The King will soon be there.
38
You'll follow me.
[Exit.
Crit.
When I've secur'd all here—
Unseasonable Husband! Fare thee well.
Why! what a 'Scape was this? At the same Time,
The very Place, so unexpectedly,
And just upon my Summons of another!
But he's remov'd—if he had seen his Wife,
'T had been impossible. That lucky Lye
Has sent him to my House, to wait the King
Leonidas—at Twelve I may expect him:
'Tis near Eleven now. Cleombrotus
Won'not delay me long: For when he comes,
My Office only guides him to the Door,
And then to make all sure; I have prepar'd
A hearty Welcome for the good old King.
Enter Timæus.
Tim.
The good old King!
Crit.
Timæus, by thy Voice. Thou'rt come before thy Time.
Tim.
I come by your Command.
Crit.
I said at Twelve.
Tim.
You said that I should stay till he set forward.
Crit.
Is he coming then?
Tim.
I saw him mounted.
Crit.
How attended?
Tim.
Almost, Sir, alone.
Crit.
He must be near.
Tim.
He cannot be far off.
Eurytion, Sir, already is arriv'd.
Crit.
Wait for me at my House. I'll follow thee.
[Timæus Exit.
This is unlucky—there's no pausing now.
Thinking but loses Time: I must be gone.
Love must attend the Leisure of the State:
A single Fortune, this a Nation's Fate.
[Going out, meets Cleombrotus.
39
Who's this.
Crit.
Cleombrotus!
Cleom.
Crites, I think.
Crit.
Still worse and worse
[Aside.
Cleom.
Thou wert in Haste.
Crit.
Imagine, Sir, the Cause.
[Going.
Cleom.
I know the Cause: I staid beyond my Time, and thou wert going
To find me out, but I have spar'd thy Pains.
This is the Door: Now, my Thelamia! What!
Thou art uneasy still.
Crit.
I beg you wou'd
Believe, that nothing, but a Certainty
Of my best Service to you, cou'd perswade me
To leave you now.
Cleom.
How? Crites! At this Time! and call it Service?
Crit.
Nay, my Duty, Sir.
Cleom.
No going, Man; thy Duty now lies here.
Crit.
To Morrow will convince you.
Cleom.
Thou art mad.
Am I not at the Entrance of my Joys?
Invited by thy own Appointment too?
Crit.
But Accidents—
Cleom.
There are in Fortune none:
I conquer her in my Thelamia.
Crit.
To Morrow she shall be with Safety Yours.
Cleom.
I wonnot trust to Morrow: Now is mine.
Crit.
This will undo us all.
[Aside.
Cleom.
No Words, but on.
Crit.
Let me but speak—
Cleom.
I will have no Excuse; show me the Way.
Crit.
Hear but my Reasons first—
Cleom.
Forward I say:
Consider who I am.
Crit.
My royal Master.
Cleom.
Then thy King commands.
Crit.
I must be heard, and then—
40
Is this a Time,
Thou sawcy Trifler, for Argument?
[The two following Speeches are spoke together.
Crit.
This is the Time, or I must never speak—
I wou'd conceal it from you, but there is
Now a Necessity of telling you,—
Your Life, your Crown; your Empire are at Stake:
Leonidas, the banish'd King is now
Within your Pow'r—If you wou'd save us all,
This is your Time; an Opportunity
Like this—you cannot hope—
Cleom.
When Expectation rages in my Blood,
And shoots a thousand Fevers thro' my Veins?—
Is this a Time, thou Prater!—hence, be gone;—
Still he goes on, and louder in his Words!—
Not let me speak! This is an Insolence,
That never yet was offer'd to a King,
And shou'd be answer'd by a Dagger, thus.
[As Cleombrotus offers to stab him, Crites stops, and bows
Cleom.
Impudent Slave! Open thy Lips again
Upon this Subject, this shall lock 'em fast,
As close and silent as the Jaws of Death.
Forward, and introduce me to her Arms,
And on thy Life stir not till my Return.
[Exeunt.
Scene changes to Celona's Apartment.
Celona, Servant, and Leonidas.
Celo.
One in Disguise! Some from Leonidas.
Admit him: Leave the Room—'tis he himself!
Thus on my Knees, thus let me thank the Gods,
Who let me see you once again in Sparta.
Leon.
Celona, rise; the Posture is too humble,
And misbecomes that haughty Excellence,
Which knows to form new Virtue, and wou'd shine
A Pattern to the uninstructed World.
41
Indeed my Fate with intricate Misfortune
Has compass'd round my Virtue. Wife and Daughter!
Each different Duty shows a Precipice,
Where-e'er I turn my Eyes: But yet my Honour,
That steddily wou'd tread the narrow Path,
Looks with Contempt upon the pageant Greatness,
And most inclines where there is most Misfortune.
Leon.
It may incline too much.
Celo.
Too much it cannot.
You seem'd, and yet I wou'd not think you did,
You seem'd to tax the Conduct of my Virtue.
But yet that Power, who places such as me
In labouring Mazes of an anxious Fate,
Who damps the Joys of all our present Hours,
And pays us with the Promise of a Name,
Shall see that I submit to his Decrees,
(If I am mark'd for glorious Wretchedness)
To shine the Pattern of a Spartan Daughter.
Leon.
That Fame's too narrow for a Spartan Princess,
Celona too shou'd be a Spartan Wife.
Celo.
Have I offended then?
Leon.
Offended! O!
Thou in a Moment wou'dst deface those Trophies,
Which my laborious Ancestors, thro' Ages,
Toyling for Fame, had pil'd up, Legacies
To their succeeding Sons.
Celo.
High let 'em stand,
Admir'd Examples to less generous Man,
'Till I by any Act disclaim their Blood.
Leon.
When Guilt is in its Blush of Infancy,
It trembles in a Tenderness of Shame,
And the first Eye that pierces thro' the Veil,
That hides the Secret, brings it to the Face:
But thine amazes me, and seems confirm'd,
Beyond Confusion bold, and dares the Light,
And the reproaching Horror of thy Father.
42
Cleombrotus would speak more tenderly,
And treat my Virtue, tho' his Enemy,
In a more gentle Way.
Leon.
O! all you Ghosts!
You injur'd Spirits of my Ancestors!
Forbear a while to fire your tortur'd Son.
By all your Acts, which form'd my Youth to Honour,
You trust your Glory safely in my Hands;
Nor shall my Loyns defile your sacred Blood:
Give me but so much Respite in my Fury,
To justify the Rage of my Revenge,
To the Remains of Father in my Heart.
First, she shall triumph in her Crime, and show
A harden'd Soul, beyond forgiving damn'd,
And take her then, she falls your Sacrifice.
Celo.
What dismal Resolution shakes you thus?
When I believe I understand your Words,
Some sudden Start, that contradicts my Thoughts,
Throws me in wild Amazement.
Leon.
Ay, my Child! I will amaze thee, when I let thee know
The tenderest Instance of a Father's Love:
For I have sav'd thy generous Hand the Blow,
A dangerous Task, and done the Work alone.
Celo.
Alas! What Work! What Blow!
Leon.
The giddy World,
Unequal Judges of exalted Honour,
Perhaps had blam'd thy Zeal: But now 'tis past:
Nor shall thy Fame be trusted to the Crowd:
Yet thou shalt triumph too: Thine was the Act,
My Arm inspir'd by thee.
Celo.
What can you mean?
Leon.
Canst thou not guess?
Celo.
You more amaze me, Sir.
Leon.
I tell thee then, my Heroine! This Night,
Pretending Secrets, and Intelligence,
I gain'd Admission to Cleombrotus;
Alone I found him, you may think the News—
43
Wou'd I were past all Thought.
[Aside.
Leon.
I sent this Steel with Tidings to his Heart.
Nor parted thence, 'till with repeated Woulds
I left the unpanting Villain on the Earth.
Celo.
And this must be my Triumph! Heav'n and Hell
Are reconcil'd, and join contending Pow'rs
To make my Ruin infamously sure.
I strove to aid my King, and save my Lord,
Yet now am call'd his Murderer, you Gods!
And bid to triumph in my Husband's Blood.
Leon.
You seem disturb'd.
Celo.
Was it for this, you Pow'rs!
I strove to keep the temperate Balance just,
Between my different Duties? 'Twas too much:
And you reserve those Heights of Excellence
To your unrival'd Heaven: I shou'd have been
Only a Wife, or Daughter: For you dash,
With Jealousy, attempting Virtue down,
That dares beyond your Limits to their Flesh.
Leon.
I thought you would have prais'd me.
Celo.
O, my Lord, I must not curse you.
Leon.
What! For an Act you wou'd have done yourself?
Celo.
I wou'd have done! Murder my Husband, Sir?
Leon.
This very Night you had design'd his Death: I know it all.
Celo.
And I too much: But cou'd you think me such:
A Monster, Sir? But, Oh! I find you do.
Leon.
Why! Did he not deserve his Fate?
Celo.
O, Sir! I grant he has deserv'd from Heav'n, and you,
And all good Men, worse than you can inflict:
I have arraign'd and sentenc'd his Deserts:
And I must think the Gods but justify'd,
You honourably reveng'd, and good Mens Pray'rs
But justly answer'd in a Tyrant's Fall:
All this I think with you, and you were wrong'd:
But how was I? How has he injur'd me,
44
Barbarous, and yet without a Name in Hell,
As you imagine, Sir, I had design'd?
Is't not enough that I abhor his Crimes,
But I must be his Murderer? If the Gods,
And you, to clear my Fame, will have it so.
If I must strike at him, it must be here—
[Offers to stab herself.
Leon.
O Virtue! never to be found again!
Thy Husband lives.
Cleombrotus still lives.
Forbear a Violence, that in thy Breast
Wou'd wound me deeper than thy Ponyard there.
I did but try thee: And in these Extreams
I find thee still sincere to all my Hopes,
Fixt to thy Virtue and thy Country's Fame,
Thy Sexes Glory, and my Daughter still,
A Spartan Daughter, and a Spartan Wife.
Celo.
Those Titles raise me.
Leon.
I have been abus'd,
And thou art innocent: This Letter read
At Leisure: Crites knows what it designs,
He sent it, and I must suspect it now.
O guard, you Gods of Greece! my faithful Friends
From the destroying Arm of Treachery:
Blunt the sharp Arrows which in Darkness fly:
Disclose the Midnight Arts, and break the Snares
Which fair fac'd Villany's false Heart prepares.
If in the Courts above it be decreed
A Sacrifice to Sparta's Peace should bleed,
On me, great Jupiter, on me alone
Hurl the collected Storm of Thunder down.
Bur in your Anger, from your threatning Sky
Regard me, cloath'd in decent Majesty,
Submissive to your Will, and resolute to die.
[Exeunt.
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