University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Enter Cherinthus.
Cher.
My dearest prince!
Come to my breast.

[embraces him.
Timan.
What mean those looks compos'd,
When thus you press me with a last embrace?
Are these the tears due to a brother's death?

Cher.
What last embrace, what tears, what death, my brother?
Thou art now the happiest of mankind: our father
Forgets his indignation: all is past:
He gives thee back his former tenderness,
Thy spouse, thy son, thy liberty and life.

Timan.
O! hold, Cherinthus, even in pity hold;
Such mighty raptures flow too fast upon me:
Could I believe thee, sure my soul would faint
With vast excess of pleasure!

Cher.
Doubt it not;
My words are truth, Timanthes.

Timan.
Can it be!
What friendly power could change my father's anger,
When, parting from the temple, he resolv'd
On mine and Dirce's death?

Cher.
Such was his purpose;
And sure th'event had answer'd his resolve,
Since all but prov'd in vain to appease his wrath:
Even I, O prince! despair'd of safety for thee,
When to thy aid Creusa came—

Timan.
Creusa!
Creusa to my aid! she whom so late
My scorn offended?

Cher.
Yes, the same Creusa:
Thou dost not know, my brother, all the virtues
Of that exalted fair: what said she not,
What did she not to save thee! Thy deserts
How did she raise! How did she speak to excuse
Thy guilty rashness! Every means she tried
To waken nature in a parent's heart:
She made compassion, justice, public good,
And glory plead for thee: for his example
She shew'd herself offended yet forgiving,
And touch'd his breast with shame. Soon as I saw
The father's feelings warm'd by slow degrees,
I flew (so Heaven inspir'd) to seek thy Dirce.
I found her with Olinthus: instant both
I hurried thence; and set before the king
The mother and the son. This sight secur'd
Our victory: for whether age subsided,
Or that the affections of a parent now
Exerted all their power, the king forgot
His anger, rais'd his daughter from the ground,
Then strain'd the guiltless infant in his arms,
And mingled with the rest his pitying tears.

Timan.
O my lov'd brother! O my dearest father!
Cherinthus, let us fly with speed to seek him.

Cher.
Not so—he longs himself to bring thee first
The grateful tidings; 'twill offend him much
To see his fond design by me prevented.

Timan.
And has he then such kindness for a son
Who yet so little has deserv'd his love?
O how his goodness aggravates my crime!
With shame I own it now: could I at least
Discharge his promise to the Phrygian king:
But thou, Cherinthus, may'st—Then save his honour,
Give, in my stead, thy hand to fair Creusa,
And calm to peace a parent's sinking age.

Cher.
What say'st thou, prince?—yes, let me now confess it—
Creusa is the mistress of my fate,
I love her with the truest, tenderest passion—
But yet—

Timan.
But what!

Cher.
I ne'er must hope Creusa
Will deign to accept my hand: thou know'st she came
To espouse the kingdom's heir—but I am none.

Timan.
Is this the only bar?

Cher.
What needs there more
To oppose my happiness?

Timan.
Then go, Cherinthus,
Preserve my father's faith—thou art the heir.

Cher.
Who, I, my brother?

Timan.
Yes; thou would'st have been,
Had not thy virtue snatch'd me from destruction:
In yielding up my title to the throne,
I give thee back but part of what thou gav'st.

Cher.
Our father then—

Timan.
At least he shall not blush
To find his plighted faith to breach expos'd:
And can I less for such a father's peace?
What is a throne, compar'd with all the bliss
His goodness heaps upon me?

Cher.
Yet his loss
Is great who quits a crown.

Timan.
No, he who quits
A crown, has something left he prizes more.

Cher.
How glorious in thy gift I find,
The godlike virtues of thy mind!
I envy not the regal state,
But envy thee a soul so great.
Thou bid'st a thousand passions rise;
A thousand thoughts my heart surprise.
At once I joy and wonder prove,
And tender shame, and grateful love.

[Exit.