University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The palace of Xerxes.
Themistocles, Neocles.
Them.
What would'st thou do?

Neoc.
Permit me to chastise
That haughty Persian,—seest thou not, my father,
How little he attends to thy demands?
What further insults must we yet endure?

Them.
Restrain thy ill-tim'd ardour? Thinkst thou still
We tread the soil of Greece; and that thou see'st
Thy father circled with the flattering crowds,
That ever throng to him whom Fortune favours?
All things must change; and, Neocles, the wise
Submit to present evils. See in this
The palace of our foe: no longer now
Am I the hope, the darling pride of Athens;
A poor, a wandering exile, shunn'd of all,
An outcast of mankind, what have I left,
Save this, (the greatest good) I still retain
My constancy unshaken.

Neoc.
Pardon, Sir,
Such constancy I scarce with temper bear.
I see thee driven, excluded from those walls,
Which late thy blood preserv'd; in every part
To find the hatred of thy cruel country
Pursue thee still, and with insidious policy,
Forbid thee an asylum. Malice seems
To grudge thee even a fostering spot of earth,
To feed the wants of nature; yet I hear
No murmurs pass thy lips: I see thy looks
Unmov'd and placid. Is it possible?
How canst thou thus support the unnatural stroke
Of man's ingratitude?

Them.
Alas! my son,
Thou'rt newly enter'd on the path of life,
And all to thee is strange: I blame thee not;
For wonder is the child of ignorance,
And mother still of wisdom. Know the hatred,
Thou see'st in human breasts, is mostly found
The recompense of every good conferr'd;
The ungrateful hate (and many such there are)
The galling weight of benefits in him
From whom they come; while he, from whom they come,
Loves, in the man he serves, the benefits
By him bestow'd; and hence, my son, proceeds
My country's hate to me, my love to her.

Neoc.
Were only men unjust to thee, my father,
I might support the thought; but even the Gods
Seem mindless of thee.

Them.
Mindless?

Neoc.
Can we call
This wretched state, thy virtue's due reward?

Them.
Of good or evil, know'st thou which to name,
Reward or punishment?

Neoc.
What means my father?

Them.
By suffering, virtue is refin'd, but grows
Corrupt by prosperous fortune. Limpid flows
The stream midst broken rocks, but in a pool
Stagnates impure; the weapon, that in war
Resplendent blazes, rusts in lazy peace.

Neoc.
But thus to change from triumphs past to meet
With trials such as these.

Them.
Futurity
Perhaps may envy more my present trials,
Than all my former triumphs.

Neoc.
Be it so:
But say, what cause has brought thee to this place,
In search of other perils? Is the hatred
Of Greece so little? Would'st thou stand expos'd
To Persia's fury? Dost thou not remember
That Athens, when assail'd, led on by thee,
Oppos'd the united force of Asia's arms,
And scoff'd at Xerxes and his idle bridge?
Ah! think not that such transient anger swells
The heart of kings.—Here should'st thou be discover'd
To whom wilt thou recur? In other parts
Thy foes are many, here thy foes are all.
Each, from thy counsels, has in battle lost
A friend, a relative, a son or father.
Ah! let us fly, my lord—in pity—

Them.
Peace:
Some one I see approaching—Leave me; hence
And wait for me apart.

Neoc.
And shall I not
Remain with thee, my father?

Them.
No: I dare not
Confide in thy forbearance; and our state
Requires it much.

Neoc.
And now—

Them.
Obey.

Neoc.
At least,
In such a dreadful tempest, O! take heed
And guard thy safety.

Them.
Hence and hope the best.

Neoc.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Aspasia, Sebastes. Themistocles apart.
Them.
[aside.]
This stranger, by his looks and bearing, seems
Of high concern and manners more refin'd:
Of him I may enquire—but soft, what maid
With him appears; and by her vests a Greek?

Asp.
[to Seb.]
Yet hear me.

Seb.
No; I cannot, fair Aspasia,
Now longer here remain: the king expects me.

[going.
Asp.
Yet one short moment: is it true the king
Has made this cruel edict?

Seb.
'Tis most true:
Whoe'er to Xerxes brings Themistocles,
Alive or dead, shall gain immense reward.

[going.
Asp.
Unhappy father!

[aside.
Them.
[to Seb.]
Tell me, gracious lord,
(If thus far may be known) can all alike
Presume to approach the feet of royal Xerxes,
And when and where such honour is permitted?

Asp.
[aside.]
How shall I warn my father?

Seb.
[to Them. haughtily.]
Hence and learn
From others what thou seek'st.

Them.
If I perhaps
Have err'd unweeting, courteous deign to instruct me;
A stranger am I; and to me unknown
The country's customs here.

Seb.
Farewell, Aspasia.

[Exit, without attending to Them.
Them.
What senseless pride!

SCENE III.

Themistocles, Aspasia.
Asp.
[to herself.]
Conduct not, mighty Gods!
My father to these shores!

Them.
[aside.]
Then let me seek
Some better knowledge from this Grecian dame.
[to her.]
Fair virgin, if the Heavens—Almighty Powers!
What features do I see!

Asp.
Eternal Gods!
'Tis sure my father, or some form like his!

Them.
O! say—

Asp.
Themistocles!

Them.
Aspasia!

Asp.
Father!

Them.
My daughter!

[embrace.
Asp.
Fly, O! fly—

Them.
And dost thou live?

Asp.
Ah! fly, my dearest father.—O! what star
In evil hour has brought you to this palace?
Ah! Xerxes seeks your life, and vast rewards
Are promis'd him who brings you to his sight—
Alas! delay not—some one may discover—

Them.
Thou wilt thyself discover me, Aspasia,
With this excess of fear.—Say, when to Argos
I sent thee for a shelter from the dangers
Of war and tumult, was not then thy ship
Engulph'd in roaring waves?

Asp.
It was; and none,
Save I alone, surviv'd the cruel wreck;
By wondrous chance escap'd from stormy seas
To pay with liberty my ransom'd life.

Them.
Say how was this?

Asp.
A vessel from the waves—
(O Heaven! I freeze with terror!) from the waves
A hostile vessel took me, scarce alive,
And bore me prisoner to this fated land.

Them.
Is here thy birth disclos'd?

Asp.
No.—Xerxes gave me
(My race unknown) a present to the princess,
The fair Roxana.—How I oft invok'd
A father's name! How oft I wearied Heaven
With vows to see him! But I little thought
To find my vows so fatally fulfill'd.

Them.
Compose thyself, my daughter; joy and grief
Are plac'd with bounds so near to each, the passage
Is but a moment's work. This day our fortune
May take a different aspect; finding thee,
Already do I feel my sufferings less.

Asp.
But how! how have you found me here? A wretch,
In servile bonds! And how are you arriv'd?
A fugitive proscrib'd! A lonely exile!
Alas! my father, where is now the splendor
That once encircled you? The pomp, the menials,
The wealth, the friends?—O! Deities unjust!
O! most ungrateful Athens! and does earth
Support thee still? And still the thunder sleep
In Jove's eternal hand?

Them.
Forbear, Aspasia!
And learn, more wise, to keep thy grief in bounds;
Know, she, who calls for vengeance on her country,
Can ne'er be daughter to Themistocles;
Nor will I bear thou should'st one moment harbour
Such impious thoughts.

Asp.
When you defend her cause,
Your country's guilt is doubled.

Them.
Hold! no more.

Asp.
Yet, let me beg you fly!—Ah! quit this land.

Them.
Whence is thy dread, if there to all unknown—

Asp.
To all unknown? And where! ah! where, is then
Themistocles unknown? The character
Of majesty impress'd upon his brow,
That speaks his soul, suffices to betray him.
This day the peril threatens more: from Athens
At Sufa an ambassador arrives:
From him and from his followers, who shall now
Conceal—

Them.
—But tell me, know'st thou yet his business,
And what his name?

Asp.
I know not; but the king
Will give him speedy audience.—See already
Where yonder throng the impatient populace
To reach the destin'd place.

Them.
May each that wills it
Be present at the meeting?

Asp.
Doubtless each.

Them.
Remain thou here: I haste to satisfy
A wish I long have cherish'd in my breast,
Thus face to face to meet my ancient foe.

Asp.
Forbear—Unhappy me! What would you do?
You kill me with affright! O! if you love me,
Forego the thought—By this unconquer'd hand,
On which, a trembling and a suppliant daughter,
I now impress the kiss of filial duty;
Even by that country, which, to you a foe,
You still have reverenc'd; which you have defended,
Howe'er to you ungrateful.

Them.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Enter Roxana.
Asp.
[to herself.]
Alas! through all my trembling breast I feel
Each fibre shake with fear!

Rox.
Permit me now,
Aspasia, to complain; and why conceal
Thy happy fortune thus? Though not a friend,
I hop'd at least to find thee more sincere.

Asp.
[aside.]
Alas! she knows it all. Themistocles
Too surely is discover'd.

Rox.
Thou art pale!
Thou answer'st not? And have I truly heard,
And have I near me then my deadliest foe.

Asp.
Ah! princess!—

Rox.
Peace, ingrate, to thee I told
My secret soul, to thee intrusted all,
And thou, mean time, hast us'd each art to win
From me the heart of Xerxes.

Asp.
[aside.]
What I fear'd
Employs not now her thoughts.

Rox.
Is this, Aspasia,
The recompense for all my friendship shewn?

Asp.
Such taunts and insults ill become Roxana.
Possess, without a fear, the heart of Xerxes,
I never shall dispute it—no!—too well
I know myself; think not Aspasia's hopes
(Beyond her rank) aspire to mount the throne.

Rox.
Dissimulation all! A thousand thoughts
Confirm my fears, since Xerxes first beheld thee,
I find a daily change, while cold indifference
Succeeds declining love. I mark his looks,
Intent on thee; I hear his converse dwell
Too oft on thee; and when I speak of love,
He seems confus'd; then seeking an excuse
To veil his luke-warm passion, lays the blame
On all those cares that vex a monarch's peace.

Asp.
Not love, but generous pity warms his breast,
For poor Aspasia's fortune.

Rox.
Pity oft
Is but a specious name.

Asp.
Reflect, Roxana,
How great the distance twixt myself and Xerxes.

Rox.
Love equals those more distant.

Asp.
But a stranger?—

Rox.
'Tis that I fear. Sometimes the fancied value
Outweighs the true; those gems are little worth
Where Nature heaps them with a lavish hand,
But from their scarceness oft are treasures deem'd.

Asp.
For pity's sake, Roxana, be not thus
Ingenious to your pain? You wrong Aspasia,
You wrong yourself and Xerxes: if the cares
Of love can find admission in this breast,
('Midst all the sufferings of my present state)
Not Xerxes is their object. In this heart
Another form is grav'd; and learn, Aspasia
Has not a heart that knows how love can change.

Rox.
And wilt thou then—

SCENE V.

Enter Sebastes.
Seb.
[to Rox.]
If, princess, you would see
The Athenian envoy, he prepares to take
His audience of the king.

Rox.
I come, Sebastes.

Asp.
Hear—know'st thou yet his name?

Seb.
Lysimachus.

Asp.
[aside.]
Eternal Powers! 'tis he, my heart's dear lord!
But wherefore comes he?

[to Seb.
Seb.
As I learn, he comes
To seek Themistocles.

Asp.
[aside.]
And is HE then,
Is then my lover too my father's foe?
All, all the earth conspire in waging war
With one unhappy exile!

Rox.
Go, Sebastes,
Before me to the king—farewell Aspasia.
[to Asp.]
Betray me not.

[Exit Sebastes.
Asp.
Ah! banish from your mind
These jealous doubts?—Ah! how can thoughts like these
E'er find admittance in a noble breast?

Rox.
A lover I! too well I know;
From jealousy what torments flow,
The bane that heightens every woe,
And poisons every joy.
The monster with an hundred eyes,
Creates the bad, the good belies,
And every cruel pang supplies,
To work the soul's annoy.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

Aspasia
alone.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

A magnificent place for public audience. A throne on one side. View of the city at a distance.
Themistocles, Neocles.
Neoc.
My father, whither goest thou? Still in vain
I would divine thy purpose; while I mark
Each look with fear, and think that every eye
Is fix'd alone on thee. Behold the guards!
The king is near at hand; let us depart.

Them.
Here, mingled with the crowd, we may remain.

Neoc.
Think of the danger, sir.

Them.
No more!—be silent.

Neoc.
[aside.]
I tremble for th' event,

[they retire to one side.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Xerxes and Sebastes with a numerous attendance.
Xer.
Go, call before us
The ambassador from Greece; he shall be heard.
[a guard goes out.
Sebastes, tell me, does Themistocles
Still hide him from my vengeance? Have I then
In vain held forth such hope of high reward?

Seb.
He cannot long be hid: too many snares
Are laid for him to escape them.

Xer.
While he lives
I cannot rest,—say, has he not beheld
The flight of Xerxes? Midst the unnumber'd ships,
With which oppress'd th' Ægean billows groan'd,
He knows, that chac'd by him, (O! shame to think!)
My life was trusted to a single bark,
Poor and defenceless; that, by thirst constrain'd,
I drank the scanty water, foul and putrid;
And prais'd with eager lips, the savoury draught:
And shall he live, who lives to boast of this?
O! no!—it ne'er shall be, and in my heart
The thought alone is madness.

[ascends the throne.
Neoc.
[aside to Them.]
Hear you this?

Them.
I do!

Neoc.
Then let us fly.

Them.
Peace, Neocles.

SCENE IX.

Enter Lysimachus with a train of Greeks.
Lys.
Great king! in whom, though in a foe to Greece,
Athens not only pays the honours due
To regal majesty, but, from thy virtue
(Unbounded as thy empire) now expects
A gift beyond the noblest.

Xer.
Let it not
Be peace thou seek'st:—then sit and freely speak.

Neoc.
[to Them.]
Is that Lysimachus?

[Lys. sits.
Them.
It is?

Neoc.
The friendship
Of one so dear, may stand you so much in stead.

Them.
[to Neoc.]
Be silent or depart.

Lys.
[to Xer.]
To sweep from earth
A rash disturber of the public peace
One common interest claims from all that rule;
Even foes should here concur: the single state
That shelters one proscrib'd, must injure all;
For hope of an asylum ever tempts
The mind to each excess. Themistocles,
(Forgive me, hapless friend!) is now the criminal
That Athens seeks. Within these palace walls
'Tis thought he dwells; she could of right demand him,
But rather asks him as a gift from Xerxes.

Neoc.
[aside.]
O! cruel embassy? O! faithless friend!

Them.
[aside.]
O! loyal citizen!

Xer.
We shall not now,
Ambassador, explore the secret purpose
That hither turn'd thy steps, nor what our trust
Due to the Grecian faith; but this I know,
Not all thy studied artifice of speech
Can hide the boldness of a claim like this.
Say, what imports to me the peace of Athens?
Must I be made the power subservient here
To do your bidding? Who shall thus presume
To frame new leagues to bind contending foes?
And com'st thou now to give me laws or counsel?
The last I little trust, the first I spurn.
Let not a single victory swell you thus
With transient pride; for know, the fate of Greece
Is little yet secur'd; and know, to Athens
The way lies open still for Xerxes' arms.

Lys.
But what imports to you Themistocles?

Xer.
Learn that, when Xerxes finds him in his power—

Lys.
And dwells he not in Susa?

Xer.
Were it so,
Of him I hold no conference with thee.

Lys.
My lord, your hatred of the Grecian name
Blinds you too far, and if I now begin
On peaceful terms—

Xer.
No more: I have forbid thee
To speak of peace.

Lys.
'Tis true; but yet—

Xer.
Enough:
I know what thou would'st say, and have reveal'd
To thee my thoughts at full—thou may'st depart.

Lys.

[Exit with train.

SCENE X.

Xerxes, Sebastes. Themistocles and Neocles apart. Attendants.
Xer.
The Greeks, Sebastes, think Themistocles
Is now in Persia—Lose not then a moment
To explore the truth, and ease thy anxious master.
This victim can alone appease the hatred
That preys upon me and consumes my peace.

Neoc.
[aside.]
And yet my father flies not.

Them.
Now's the time
To make the trial.

[making his way through the guards.
Neoc.
[aside to him.]
Hear me, O! my father.

Them.
[before the throne.]
Great king.

Seb.
What means this frenzy? Madman, hence!
Guards, take him from the presence.

Them.
Human prayers
Offend not even the Gods.

Seb.
Away!

Xer.
Not so:
He shall be heard.—What would'st thou, stranger? Speak.

Them.
I seek a shelter here from adverse Fortune,
And only Jove or Xerxes can protect me.

Xer.
Who art thou? Say.

Them.
At Athens was I born.

Xer.
And dar'st thou then, a Greek, appear before me?

Them.
Yes, Xerxes, though full well I know that name
Is here a crime; but now a mighty service
Absolves in me that crime.—Themistocles
Thou seek'st, and him I here conduct before thee.

Xer.
Themistocles? Can this be true?

Them.
With kings
What lips shall utter falsehood?

Xer.
Such high service
No recompense can answer.—Where, O! where
Is this long-sought-for object of my hatred?

Them.
He stands before your sight.

Xer.
Where is he?

Them.
I—
I am Themistocles.

Xer.
Thou!

Them.
I am he.

Neoc.
[aside.]
Where shall I hide me?

[Exit.
Xer.
Dost thou fear so little
To meet my just resentment? Dar'st thou thus—

Them.
Hear me, and then determine.—See before thee
Capricious Fortune's sport.—In me, O! king,
Behold that same Themistocles who shook
So late thy throne, who now resorts to thee
For succour and support.—He knows thee mighty,
Nor is he yet to learn a foe's resentment
Enkindled long against him; yet the hope
To find in thee a guardian and protector
Conducts him hither.—In thy virtue, king,
He thus confides.—Behold me in thy hand,
'Tis thine to save me, or 'tis thine to take
A wish'd revenge.—If love of noble fame
Glows in thy breast, behold an ample field
For virtue worthy thee: subdue thyself,
And stretch thy hand to raise a prostrate foe.
If hatred sway thee, pause a moment yet:
What praise to conquer unresisting weakness?
How useful to acquire a faithful friend.
Think that thou art a king, and think that here
Thou see'st an exile who confides in thee,
And came a willing victim to this land;
Reflect, and calmly then decide my fate.

Xer.
[aside.]
Ye righteous Gods! was ever known a soul
More firm and more unshaken! What intrepid,
What unexampled virtue! Thus alone,
Disarm'd, an enemy, to stand before
The face of Xerxes! Thus in confidence—
O! 'tis too much— [to Them.]
Tell me, Themistocles,
What would'st thou? With my hatred make my glory
Dispute the victory?—O! now at least
Thou shalt not conquer.—Let me clasp thee then
Close to my breast: whate'er thou hop'st is thine;
Take what thou wilt.—My treasures shall be open'd
[descends from his throne and embraces Them.
To give thee aid; my kingdom shall be arm'd
For thy defence; and from this happy hour
Themistocles and Xerxes are the same.

Them.
O king! but now my hopes appear'd excess,
And yet thy generous heart out-goes them all:
What can I offer then? My toils, my blood,
My life? For such transcendent grace bestow'd,
My life, my blood, my toils were worthless all.

Xer.

[Exit attended.

SCENE XI.

Themistocles
alone.

[Exit.

SCENE XII.

Aspasia
alone.
Where am I? Who will now, ah! hapless maid,
Shew me my father? Here in vain I seek him,
Yet self-discover'd here but now he stood
Before the king—so Neocles declar'd:
He could not be deceiv'd.

SCENE XIII.

Enter Roxana.
[Asp.]
Ah! princess, hear,
In pity hear me, and protect my father
From angry Xerxes' vengeance.

Rox.
Say'st thou?—Father?

Asp.
O! yes—behold in me, immortal powers!
The wretched daughter of Themistocles.

Rox.
In thee? Can this be possible?

Asp.
No more
It aught avails to keep my birth conceal'd.

Rox.
[aside.]
Alas! my rival now has stronger charms.

Asp.
Go, generous princess, plead, implore his pardon.

Rox.
Pardon for him? Then sure thou know'st not all.

Asp.
I know my father here to angry Xerxes
Disclos'd himself: my brother, who in vain
Oppos'd his purpose, fled in terror hence.
He saw me since, and from his trembling lips
I heard the fatal truth.

Rox.
Now learn the rest:
Know then—

SCENE XIV.

Enter Sebastes.
Seb.
Aspasia, hasten; Xerxes now
Requires your presence; for Themistocles
Has own'd you for his daughter: never yet
The king appear'd to hear more grateful tidings.

Rox.
[aside.]
Death to my hopes!

Asp.
[aside.]
O Heaven!—Is then his hatred
Rooted so deep in Xerxes?

Seb.
Hatred? No:
Themistocles is now his only joy.

Asp.
What do I hear, Sebastes! 'Twas but now
He sought his death.

Seb.
And now, with all the warmth
A friend can feel, he clasps him to his breast;
Calls him his life; directs all eyes to him,
And only speaks of his Themistocles.

Asp.

[Exit.

SCENE XV.

Roxana, Sebastes.
Seb.
[aside.]
Take courage, heart, and hope, since jealousy
Has touch'd Roxana's breast.

Rox.
What means, Sebastes,
The impatience shewn by Xerxes now to seek
The converse of Aspasia?

Seb.
What suspicion
His thoughts suggest, Sebastes fears to speak.

Rox.
And wherefore? Freely speak.

Seb.
To me it seems
That Xerxes loves her: when he heard her birth,
A sudden pleasure brighten'd in his features,
And told the secret workings of his heart.

Rox.
O! no—it cannot be—'tis but a dream
Thy fancy shapes.

Seb.
Heaven grant it prove no other!
But yet 'tis ever well to fear the worst.

Rox.
Ye powers! Should this be true what course befits
Roxana then?

Seb.
What course? To seek revenge.
What may not beauty such as yours achieve?
'Tis joy to punish a perfidious lover.

Rox.

[Exit.

SCENE XVI.

Sebastes
alone.

[Exit.