University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

MEROPE. ISMENE. EURICLES, with a Sword.
EURICLES.
Sorrow on Sorrows bear down Hope's last Prop.
Now, be a Queen, indeed!—arm your great Heart,
With Preparation, to its utmost Stretch:
—For, if it stands this Shock, its Power's immortal.

MEROPE.
No—I am sinking, from all Sense of Pain:
And shall grow safe, by Want of Strength to suffer.
Speak—there is now but one sad Truth to dread:
And my Soul waits it heard;—then, rests, for ever.

EURICLES.
It has pleas'd Heaven—this Sword! this fatal Sword!

MEROPE.
I understand thee; thou woud'st say, he's dead.

EURICLES.
Oh! 'tis too surely so: th' atrocious Crime
At last, succeeded—and all Care is vain.

MEROPE.
Gods! Gods!—'tis done.—now all your Bolts have struck me.

ISMENE.
Guard her distracted Brain!

EURICLES.
Save her, kind Heaven!

MEROPE.
What have I done? Where have I been?

EURICLES.
Alas! where Grief, too oft,
Has left, th' Unhappy—recollect.

MEROPE.
Oh! Euricles: I recollect, too much.
Trust my sustaining Heart, it breaks not, yet.
Comfort's brief Clouds, methought, came shadowing, o'er me.
But I am found, again: a Wretch, so friendless,
That Madness will not lend Relief: but shuns me.

EURICLES.
Perish, That young, that impious Hypocrite!
That ill-admir'd Attracter of your Pity:
Whom your Protection spar'd—for fancied Virtue!

MEROPE.
Who?—What?—

ISMENE.
Not Dorilas?

EURICLES.
Him, Him,—That Dorilas.

MEROPE.
Monster! beyond all Credit of Deceit!

ISMENE:
He!—'tis impossible.

EURICLES.
He was the Murderer.
I bring too clear a Proof. Passing, but now,
I found him waiting: freed him from his Chains;
And, to re-arm him, for the Cause he chose:
Call'd for his Sword—Which, as he stretch'd his Hand
To take, I mark'd, and trembled at the View,
These once-known Gems—too well remember'd, here!

MEROPE
—taking the Sword.
Oh, All ye sleeping Gods! 'twas my Cresphontes
'Twas the King's Sword. Narbas, beyond all Doubting,
Sav'd it, that dreadful Night, for my Eumenes.
Oh! what a false vile Tale this Flatterer form'd,
To cheat us into Pardon!
Take the dumb dreadful Witness from my Sight.
[giving Euricles the Sword.
Yet, stay—return it me.—
[resumes the Sword—and kneels.
—I thank ye—Gods!
Thank your inspiring Justice: and accept it.
Live, but to thank you,—for this dire, due, Sacrifice;
Which, from the childless Mother's widow'd Hand,
Your Heav'n-directed Vengeance well demands.
[she rises.
Yes. I will sheathe it, on my Husband's Tomb,
Deep, in the bleeding Murd'rer's panting Heart;
Then, scorning Poliphontes, pierce my own;
So, die, reveng'd, and safe,—absolving Heaven.
—Go, Euricles.—

EURICLES.
Not so.—Yet bear his Sight:
That, from his own dire Mouth, we may compel
Discovery, of his Guilt's commission'd Cause:
And, to the Bottom, search this fatal Tale.
[Exit Euricles.

ISMENE.
Erox!—the Tyrant's Minister of Death.