University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE THIRD.

Polyphontes, Merope, Ægisthus, Polydore, People, Soldiers.
Polyp.
Behold, oh Merope, I now commit
Into thy hands the murderer of thy son.
Let him be manacled with heavy chains;
And instantaneously at thy nod expire.

Me.
Ah miscreant! barbarous and atrocious wretch!
Assassin vile! thou hast imbrued thy hands
In the pure blood of my beloved son!
What now avails it that I spill all thine?
Can all thy blood redeem a drop of his?
I, who already was so much afflicted!
And thou, beyond all women and all mothers,
Hast rendered me incomparably wretched!—
Rivet those iron chains; prepare for him
Horrid and unexampled agonies;
And let his labouring soul toil forth in death
'Mid exquisite and long-protracted torments.
I will behold his bloody tears gush forth:
I will myself inflict on him not one,
But thousand, thousand deaths.—Ah Merope,
Alas! ... Will this restore to thee thy son?

Ægis.
Oh Merope, I yield myself to thee:
Yes, to a mother willingly I yield,
So justly desperate: and if in chains
These had not bound me, thou hadst well sufficed
To wreak on me what torments please thee best.
Just is thy indignation ... Yet thou knowest
That guiltless, and e'en worthy of compassion,
Erewhile I seem'd to thee.

Me.
I? ... felt for thee? ...
Compassion? ... —Yet those accents on my heart,
Whence is their unknown power? ... —Why thus delay? ...
What pity do I feel! ... What words were those? ...
Let us depart, and drag him to that tomb;
The father's shade, and those of his slain sons,
May by his blood be pacified; ... and mine;
For I shall quickly follow them.

Polyp.
One instant
Be pleased yet to suspend.—Soldiers, and you,
Messenians, witnesses I wish you all
Of this just solemn act.—Clandestinely
This angry mother to my detriment
Conceal'd a son: yet not the less I feel
Compassion for her grief; and I attest
The righteous gods, that had she, when alive,
With generous confidence reveal'd him to me,
I had, e'en as he were a son of mine,
Watched his well being, and his tender years
Defended with a fond solicitude.
Dead, 'tis my duty to avenge that son.
Ye hear?—Promptly be Merope obeyed:
To such immeasurable wretchedness
A single victim is inadequate.

Ægis.
Ah! a far different victim is required
To appease Cresphontes' shade.

Me.
What mutterest thou?
Let us depart ...

Pol.
I pray thee, pause a little ...
I would impart to thee ... Ah! hear me ...

Me.
Why
Speakest thou thus in whispers? Thou wert once
Devoted to Cresphontes; of his son
Thou wert the guardian: dost thou now repent
Of thy fidelity? And what, dost thou
Grieve for the murderer? ... Feel'st thou pity for him? ...
And pray'st thou that the blow ...

Pol.
I ... pity? ... no ...
But thou'rt a mother ... Pause ... Now more at length
Thou should'st from him himself hear many things
Of thy lost son.

Polyp.
This youth then knew that son?

Me.
What can I hear?—What dar'st thou to propose?
Hop'st thou to mitigate my rage? Did he
Not slay my son? Didst thou not tell me so?
Did not himself confess it? This his belt,
Reeking with blood, placed in my hands by thee,
Does that not give assurance of the fact?

Ægis.
That belt is mine, I swear to thee. Unclasp'd
I lost it from my side.

Pol.
Perhaps there might be
Another like to this ... that murder'd youth ...
Perhaps he was not thy son ...

Me.
What new fraud
Am I compell'd to hear? ... Ah guilty tyrant!
Then hast thou all corrupted? Even him,
So faithful to us once? As in defiance
Would'st thou the assassin of my son preserve,
And feign'st to wish him slain? and means like these? ...

Polyp.
Oh lady, thou'rt distracted by thy grief.
Who cannot here perceive ...

Me.
If then, in truth,
Thou dost desire his death, there now remains
No more for me to hear. E'en now I hold
My rage restrain'd no longer; all delay
Will turn this tide of passion 'gainst myself.
Wherefore advance we farther? In these thresholds
Where equally my immolated spouse
Is witness to the deed, without delay
Let him be pacified.—To me that sword;
Myself ... with my own arm to strike thee now ...

Ægis.
Bared to thy blow behold my breast. Ah mother! ...

Pol.
Pause ...

Me.
Let him die.

Pol.
Ah! pause ...

Polyp.
Thus darest thou? ...

Me.
Perfidious wretch! ... What now? ... Thou weepest, tremblest,
And I, I cannot smite him! ...

Polyp.
What means this?
There is some mystery here! Speak, old man, speak.

Pol.
For pity's sake ...

Polyp.
Speak.

Me.
Let me smite him now.

Pol.
He is ...

Me.
Who, who?

Polyp.
Quick ... Speak ...

Pol.
He is my son.

Me.
Ah? how?

Polyp.
This youth thy son?

Ægis.
He was my father.

Me.
He lies.—But if he were, he slew my son.
Thus, die.

Pol.
Ah! pause ... He is thy son.

Ægis.
Oh mother ...

Me.
Oh heavens!

Polyp.
Her son? ...

Pol.
Thou art a mother; save him.

Me.
My son! ...

Polyp.
What plot is this? Quick, guards, advance ...

Me.
I am thy shield, oh son ... Ah, yes, of this
My heart assures me: I am yet a mother ...

Polyp.
Soldiers ...

Me.
No sword that has not first pierced me
Shall touch his form ...

Ægis.
I clasp thee in my arms,
Oh mother! ...

Polyp.
Now, what lies dost thou bring here,
Thou prating evidence of worn-out fables?
An infamous assassin; one that too
Denies not that he is such? ... He thy son? ...
Shall I believe it? Guards, dispatch him quickly.

Me.
Infamous thou ... But while I breathe, my son
Is safe.

Pol.
I call the heavens to witness it,
He is Cresphontes. That belt is his own:
From this alone the error sprung. To you,
Messenians, I am known; I am not perjured ...

Ægis.
Do none among you recognize my face?
Of your illustrious monarch I am now
The only representative. Alas!
Is there not one that fought beneath his banners
In all this multitude?

Polyp.
He lies. Dispatch him ...

Me.
Me first ... No, never ...

Ægis.
Ah! release my arm;
Give me a sword, a sword: by my exploits
I shall be quickly recognized.

Me.
What words!
Oh real offspring of the great Alcides!
By his deportment, by his lofty speech,
Do not ye all now recognize him? Thou,
Dost thou not recognize him by thy fear,
Oh Polyphontes? Tremble now ... Ah no!
'Tis I that tremble; to the earth I bend
My suppliant knees. Ah! do thou yield to pity!
This realm of mine, which thou would'st share with me,
(At least it seem'd so,) keep exclusively;
Let it be always thine. The throne usurp'd,
My slaughter'd consort and my sons, all, all
I freely pardon thee: except this son,
Nothing remains to me in all the world;
I ask no other boon; spare him to me ...

Pol.
Reflect, that in thy unestablish'd realm
Thou still hast many foes; that thou canst not,
Without a mighty risk, destroy he son.
If I deceive thee, take my life. Erewhile
Thou didst prepare thyself with so much pomp
To avenge her for her son, hoping him dead;
He lives, and thou would'st have him slain?

Polyp.
This youth
I might with justice, whosoe'er he be,
Sentence to death. But yet, still more and more,
Lady, before the eyes of all Messene,
I would convict thee of unworthy fraud.
He is no son of thine; for thou thyself
Sawest thine own son all perish in the flames;
And all Messene often from thy mouth
Has heard the narrative: all here, with me,
Esteem the assertion of this one old man,
A renegade, and doubtless bribed by thee,
In so important an affair, a proof
Ridiculous and vain: yet, while I wait
For other more conclusive arguments,
I will suppose it true.—Release him, guards.—
Uninjured I restore him to thy arms;
Hence to the marriage rites proposed by me
I hope to make thee yield ...

Ægis.
Oh infamy!
Shalt thou contaminate that father's bed
Of whom thou hast deprived me? Rather now
Slay me upon the spot; 'twere a less evil ...

Me.
Ah! son; cease now to irritate him more.
Who knows what cruel projects he revolves? ...
Ah! Polyphontes ...

Polyp.
Clear this vestibule
Of thy auxiliary troops, Adrastes;
Let the accustomed guards alone remain,
And let the people for a while give way; ...
It shall return ... Heardest thou what I said? ...