University of Virginia Library

SCENE XV.

Enter Alcestes.
Alc.
O queen ador'd! no longer I'll believe
That grief destroys us: 'tis deception all,
To say affliction's iron hand cuts short
The lingering hapless hours of painful life.
O! were it true, Alcestes had not liv'd:
But if my woes have purchas'd this reward,
This wish'd-for meeting, happy are my sufferings;
Whate'er I've felt is amply now repaid.

Cleo.
Heart-breaking tenderness!

[aside.
Alc.
If thou art still
To me the same as I am still to thee;
If it indeed be true that I may yet
Hope every thing from Cleonice's goodness;
O! tell me now by what unknown offence
Have I deserv'd such rigour from my queen?

Cleo.
Thou shalt know all, Alcestes; sit, and hear me.

[sits.
Alc.
I shall obey my sovereign.

[sits.
Cleo.
Chilling fear
Benumbs my heart.

[aside.
Alc.
I feel my hopes revive.

[aside.
Cleo.
Alcestes, dost thou love indeed thy queen?
Or art thou but enamour'd of her rank,
Her regal fortune, and illustrious race?

Alc.
And can you think such motives urge Alcestes?
Or, by your doubts, would you reproach my birth,
My low paternal cottage? 'Midst the woods
That gave me life, that nurs'd my early years,
I left such abject thoughts; or rather say
I never knew them—No—In Cleonice
I love the charms, subjected not to change
Of fortune or of age, her noble mind
That in its native virtues bright, reflects
More splendor on the crown and regal sceptre,
Than royal dignity on her bestows.

Cleo.
May I not then from such a generous lover
Expect some glorious proof of fortitude?

Alc.
Speak your command, Alcestes shall obey.

Cleo.
You promise much.

Alc.
And I'll perform it all.
Each danger must be light, when prov'd for thee.
Securely will I dare the tempest's rage;
Or if thou bidst me go, expose my bosom
Unarm'd, defenceless, to th' embattled foes.

Cleo.
I ask much more, Alcestes—thou must leave me.

Alc.
Leave thee!—O Heaven!—what is it thou hast said?

Cleo.
Yes, thou must leave me, must for ever leave me,
And live without me in some distant clime.

Alc.
But who prescribes this cruel doom?

Cleo.
My honour,
The genius of my subjects, justice, duty;
That virtue you admire in Cleonice,
Which gives more brightness to the diadem,
Than royal dignity on her bestows.

Alc.
And can you then, with constancy unmov'd,
Command me to forsake you?

Cleo.
Ah! thou know'st not—

Alc.
I've known enough; I see thou lov'st me not.
[rises.
Appease thy glory, satisfy thy vassals,
And carry to the throne the stain of falsehood;
While wandering through the world I bear in mind
The deep remembrance of thy faith betray'd;
If grief permit Alcestes to survive.

[going.
Cleo.
Leave me not yet.

Alc.
O! I too much respect
Great Cleonice's rank: a base-born shepherd,
By staying longer here, will but debase
Her royal dignity.

Cleo.
Thou dost deride me,
Ungrateful man!

Alc.
And am I then ungrateful?
Have I forsaken thee, and sacrific'd
My faith, my promises, my oaths, my love,
To pomp and state?—Inhuman, perjur'd woman!

Cleo.
Yes, from thy lips I will endure it all:
If thou hast more to utter, give it vent;
But when thou art weary of insulting me,
Let Cleonice in her turn reply.

Alc.
What canst thou say, ingrate, for thy defence?
Dost thou then hope to varnish o'er the guilt
Of falsehood black as thine?

Cleo.
O yet, Alcestes,
Forbear to judge too rashly—sit and hear me.

Alc.
Heavens! in her power how much she still confides!

[aside, sits again.
Cleo.
Alcestes, if thou wilt but recollect
That ten revolving years thou hast been still
The dearest object of my constant wishes,
Thou wilt believe what anguish I must feel
In parting from thee now: but Cleonice,
Before the world constrain'd to choose a king,
No longer can consult her secret heart;
But, such her rigid fate, must sacrifice
Each fond affection to her tyrant glory,
And to the peace of others.

Alc.
Did not then
The council make thee mistress of thy choice?

Cleo.
They did; and I might now abuse my power
And raise thee to the throne: but canst thou think
So many peers, unjustly thus excluded,
Would tamely bear the wrong? Insidious plots,
And open insults, with eternal discord,
Would shake the realm, distract thyself and me.
The weakness of my sex, thy youth, thy birth
Would furnish arms for calumny: our names
Through Asia, in a thousand mouths, would prove
Foul matter for derision. No, Alcestes,
Let envy want its food, and let our virtue
Example be to others: let the world
Behold and wonder at our fortitude;
While pity's eye shall drop a tender tear
To see the fate of two unhappy lovers,
Who thus for glory break the pleasing ties
Of love so just, by length of years confirm'd.

Alc.
Why was I, cruel Gods! a shepherd born!

Cleo.
Go—let us yield to fate—far, far from me
Live and be happy—moderate thy sorrows,
Thou shalt have little cause, my dear Alcestes,
To grieve that I remain unfaithful to thee.
No—from this moment I begin to die:
These tears perhaps the last I shed—farewell!
No longer call me perjur'd and inhuman.

Alc.
O Heaven!—forgive me, thou exalted fair one,
[kneels.
Live still, my queen, preserve thy fame unsullied:
I blush to own my folly—yes, I am happy
If from so dear a teacher I can learn
Such constancy and virtue.

Cleo.
Rise, and leave me,
If it indeed be true thou lov'st my virtue.

Alc.
Here, on this hand that must no more be mine,
At least permit my trembling lips to seal
One parting kiss, ere yet I go—

Both.
Adieu!

Alc.

[Exit.