University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE SEVENTH.

Cecris, Myrrha.
My.
Is my father gone? ...
He then, he will not kill me? Ah, do thou
In pity, mother, give to me a sword;
Ah yes, if there indeed remains in thee
The shadow of regard for me, a sword,
Give me thyself without delay. I am
In full possession of my faculties;
And well I know the mighty consequence
Of this my fervent prayer: ah trust for once
My judgment; trust it while there yet is time:
Thou wilt repent hereafter, but in vain,
If thou to-day grantest me not a sword.

Ce.
Beloved child, ... oh heaven! ... assuredly
From grief thou ravest.—From thy mother thou
Would'st never ask a sword ...—Now, let us speak
No more of nuptial rites: a strength of mind
Not to be parallel'd, hath led thee on
To accomplish what thou promisedst; but, ah!
Stronger than thou was nature: fervently
For this I thank the gods. Thou e'er shalt be
Clasp'd in the arms of thy indulgent mother:
And if to eternal tears thou'rt self-condemn'd,
I will weep also evermore with thee,
Nor ever, even for an instant, leave thee:
We will be one in all things; e'en thy grief,
Since it will not abandon thee, will I
Appropriate to myself. And thou shalt find
In me a sister, rather than a mother ...
But what, oh heaven, is this? ... Beloved child, ...
Art thou incensed 'gainst me? ... repellest me? ...
Refusest to embrace me? ... and dost dart
Indignant and exasperated looks ...
Alas! ... oh daughter, ... e'en towards thy mother? ...

My.
Ah! too much it increases my despair,
Even the seeing thee: thou, more and more,
Rendest my heart when thou embracest me ...
Alas! ... what do I say? ... Beloved mother! ...
A vile, flagitious, and unworthy daughter
Am I, who love deserve not. Leave thou me
To my dire destiny; or if thou feel
For me true pity, I repeat it to thee,
Kill me.—

Ce.
Ah, rather I should kill myself,
If I were doom'd to lose thee: cruel daughter!
Canst thou speak to me, and repeat to me
So horrible a wish?—Rather, will I
From this hour forth perpetually watch
Over thy life.

My.
Thou, thou o'er my life watch?
Must I, at every instant, I, behold thee?
Thou evermore before my eyes? Ah first,
I will that these same eyes of mine be closed
In everlasting darkness: I myself
With these my very hands would pluck them first
From my own forehead ...

Ce.
What say'st thou? ... oh heaven! ...
Thou mak'st me shudder. Then thou hatest me? ...

My.
Thou first, thou sole, fatal, eternal cause
Of all my wretchedness ...

Ce.
What words are these? ...
Oh daughter! ... I the cause? ... But see thy tears
Gush forth in torrents ...

My.
Pardon, pardon me! ...
It is not I that speak; an unknown power
Rules my distemper'd organs ... Dearest mother!
Too much thou lovest me; and I ...

Ce.
Dost thou
Deem me the cause?

My.
Yes, thou, alas! hast been
In giving life to such an impious wretch
The cause of all my woes; and art so still,
If thou refusest now to take it from me;
Now that I importune thee for this deed
So fervently. There yet is time for this;
Yet I am innocent ... almost ...—But oh!
Against such agonies ... my languid frame ...
No more bears up ...—My strength, ... my senses fail ...

Ce.
To thy apartments suffer me to lead thee.
Thou need'st some cordial to restore thy strength.
This transient frenzy, trust me, hath arisen
From too long fasting. Ah, come thou; in me
Fully confide; I, I alone will serve thee.