University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Palace of Timophanes.
Enter Cleone.
Where shall I fly? that I cou'd fly my self!
Where find a lonely Gloom to hide my Sorrows,
Dark as the Grave! O were it too as quiet!
What! must I live to be the branded Mark
For Scorn's reproachful Finger! O the Tyrant!—
Gods, let him think like me, and be unhappy!

Enter Olinthus disguis'd.
Olin.
Thus far I've reach'd unseen—now to my Task;
Give me but Vengeance, Jove, I ask no more.

Cleo.
What Noise is that? Each Whisper that I hear
Sounds forth, methinks, my Shame.

Olin.
What's here? a Woman?
With Hair dishevell'd, and a Dress disorder'd?

Cleo.
What Voice is that? Is there another Villain?

Olin.
An Image of Distress she seems. Who art thou?
Turn, speak, I am not a Timophanes.

Cleo.
Oh!

Olin.
Is there ought that can asswage thy Sorrows?
What do I see? Cleone?

Cleo.
Ha!

Olin.
My Sister!
Why dost thou start? why thus avoid my Sight.
I am thy Brother—Come into my Arms.
Why dost thou tremble so? canst thou not speak?
Whisper thy Grief—or is't too great to utter?
Thy streaming Eyes declare too much. Ha! say!
The Tyrant has not dar'd to wound thy Honour!
Thou sink'st into my Arms. Villain! he has!
Blast him, avenging Jove!

Enter Timophanes.
Timop.
So close! 'Tis well.
Madam, I see 'tis not a King can please you.
You have your Slaves.

Olin.
Ha! what! Timophanes!

Cleo.
O hide me from his Sight!

Timop.
Slave! know'st thou not thy King?

Olin.
A King! 'tis true.
And this thy Glory, these thy Triumphs, Tyrant!

Timop.
Who waits there?
[Enter Attendants.
Bear him to Death.

Olin.
No, thus,
Thus do I fly to Death.—Curse on my Fate!
What! dye without Revenge?

Cleo.
O Heav'ns!

Timop.
Away!
Dispatch him hence!

Cleo.
O stay!

Timop.
What! for a Slave?
Shun me for him! my Love has wing'd its flight
At sight of this—and thou art now my Scorn.

Cleo.
O had I ever been so! but, thou Tyrant!
'Tis Heav'n alone can punish Crimes like thine.

Olin.
Why dost thou dally? Death is not so dreadful,
As is thy Sight.

Timop.
Away with him.

Cleo.
Oh! hold!

Olin.
Why dost thou sue, Cleone? Life's a trifle,
I'd sooner quit, than hold a Gift from him.

Timop.
Villains!

Cleo.
My Brother!

Timop.
Thine!

Cleo.
Mine! my Olinthus!

Olin.
And thy sworn Foe.

Timop.
No matter; be my Foe.
Observe, Cleone, what my Love can do.
That Life his Arrogance has forfeited
I give to thee—do thou but smile Forgiveness.

Olin.
Cleone, no! wrong not thy Honour thus!
Make not my Life a Barter for his Pardon:
Hate him to Death as I do, to Destruction!

Timop.
Presumptuous Boy! dare not to urge me.

Olin.
Dare not!
Tho' all thy kindred Furies stood around thee,
And bad me Peace—

Timop.
I charge thee on thy Life!

Olin.
O for a Voice, loud as th'Eternal's Thunder,
To make the World resound, thou art a Tyrant,
A Robber! Homicide!

Timop.
Seize him again!
Such Insolence 'tis Cowardice to brook.

Cleo.
My Fear and Anger combat in my Breast,
For Conquest of me.

Timop.
What says Cleone?
Thy Smile or Frown decides his Life or Death.

Cleo.
What can I say? how form my Speech to beg?
My Passions rise impatient for a vent.

Timop.
Why then away with him.

Cleo.
O spare my Brother!

Timop.
That lovely Look! it melts my Anger down,
And tames me to her Wish; it shall be so.
Remove him hence, secure him 'till the Morn,
And with Respect attend him.

Olin.
Tyrant!

Cleo.
Hush!
Olinthus, Peace! tempt not again his Wrath.
To-morrow may secure thy Life and Vengeance.

Olin.
'Tis true. Be still, my Soul—farewel, Cleone.

Timop.
Now my fair Enemy, can'st thou forgive,
And willing yield to revel in Delight?
But 'till the Morn I leave thee to determine
Thy Brother's Doom, his Happiness and thine.

[Exit.
Cleo.
My Happiness! It must be in the Grave!
Where I may shut out Thought, forget my Reason.
Reason, thou art my Curse—my Choice be Madness.
It fancies Pleasures beyond Reason's reach,
And is insensible of Pain like mine.

[Exit.