University of Virginia Library

ACT Second.

Scene First.

A Grove adjoyning to the Spartan Camp.
Timandra and Draxilla.
Tim.
What uncouth Roads Afflicted Lovers pass!
How strange prepost'rous steps their Sorrows trace!
Oh Alcibiades, if thou art just,
Forgive th'excess of Love that bred distrust.
Driven by that, disguis'd I hither came,
Yet here and ev'ry where my grief's the same.
But kind Draxilla's Friendship can dispel,
The thickest Clouds that on sad Bosoms dwell,
That does alleviate my griefs, and give
My wearied soul a soft and kind Reprieve;
Which ever to forget, would be as hard,
And as impossible, as to Reward.

Drax.
The serving you, my happiness secures,
I'm only somthing by my being yours;
Since equally with yours, my hopes were crost,
When in your Lover I a Brother lost;
Then like an Orphan destitute and bare
Of all but Misery and sad despair,
Your Kindness gave my yeelding spirits rest,
And rais'd me to a dwelling in your breast:
Then ought I not in all my soul resign,
To ease her griefs that kindly pitty'd mine?

Tim.
In that I did what honour urg'd me to.

Drax.
And honour tells me Gratitude is due.

Tim.
But how grows Gratitude to that degree,
To be afflicted thus, and weep for me.

Drax.
Alas, that is the least that I could do,
To our worst Enemies our Tears we owe.
Friendship to such a noble height should rise,
As their devotion does in Sacrifice;
Who think they shew a zeal remiss and small,
Except themselves as nobler Victims fall.
With as great courage could I for you dye,
And my Triumphant Soul to Heav'n should fly;
There I again my Friendship would renew,
And lay up chiefest joyes in store for you.

Tim.
What vast and boundless flights does Friendship take!
Beyond what search can see, or fancy track!
'Tis the improvement of the part divine,
When souls in their Seraphick transports joyn;
In souls united, so we friendship see,
As many glorys make a Diety.

Enter Alcibiades from the back part of the Scenes.
Drax.
Madam, yonder he comes who must retrieve
Your drooping hopes, and your faint joyes revive.

Tim.
My Alcibiades! how I begin
To think my misplac't jealousy did sin!
Go meet him, seem all troubled, and in tears,
And with the tale I taught thee wound his ears:
Mean while I will with-draw my self this way,
Nor would my swelling passions let me stay.

Goes to the Door.
Alcib.
What ayrie Visions o're my eyes there move,
Like the good genius of an absent Love.
Where e're I turn me, I me-thinks espy,
Timandra's Image softly gliding by.
Such fond Ambition, Love his Slaves does teach,
To make 'em fancy what they cannot reach.
For oh Divine One!—
How sickly joyes, honour and greatness grant,
When thee the glory of my soul I want!

Drax.
My Lord!—

Alcib.
—Guard me, ye pow'rs Draxilla here,
And weeping too! Oh my Prophetick fear!
What is't your coming here would seem to tell?
Relate, oh quickly, is my Princess well?

Drax.
Oh Sir! In that unhappy fatal Night,
When to the Spartan Camp you took your flight,
When by the cruel Senate you were drove,
Both to forsake your Country and your Love,
Timandra, and my self, and we were sate
In her Apartment, grieving for your fate:
No sooner with sad Jealousies opprest,
Her wearied soul in sleep sought after rest,
But grief new Scenes of misery brought in,
And plaid in Dreams its horrours o're agen:
Sometimes her tender Arms she'd forward stretch,
Then fiercely at the empty ayr would catch:
Wearied with grief, she then would milder be,
And in a hollow sigh send out, Ah Me!
At last she rose, and 'bout the Chamber walkt;
Sometimes she started, then stood still and talkt:
Anon, repeat some short and pithy pray'r;
Agen grow wild, and tear her pretious hair;
Till having so wrought sorrow to that height,
That her soul grew too tender for the weight:
E're I my courage could collect to go,
And give a hindrance to the fatall blow,
She with her Dagger stab'd her self, and said,
Thus dy'd Timandra that unhappy Maid.

Alcib.
Ye Gods! Is't thus your Justice you dispence,
To lay th'reward of Guilt on Innocence?
What though these Sacriledgious hands have thrown
Your Images, those Pageant Glorys down!
Must you revenge on her I lov'd transfer?
You might have damn'd me, so y'ad pitty'd her.
But thus I'le send my soul, where it may tell
She lov'd too rashly, but not lov'd too well;
Oh Sister! do not hinder me my death;
Sighs are the only use I've left of breath:
Offers to fall on his Sword, but is hindred by Draxilla.
One blow will put an end to grief and Me.

Enter Timandra.
Tim.
That Sir you must not do, nor must I see.
Al. starts.
Why fly you back? nay, if you shun me now,
I shall grow apt to think my fears too true.

Alcib.
Ye Gods! does then my dear Timandra live!
The Joy's too mighty for me to receive;
This was the greatest bliss Heav'n had to give.
How rashly did my impious rage prophane
Your Goodness! oh but wash away that stain,
Then I with Victims will your Altars load,
And have a Sacrifice for ev'ry God.
Till by those holy fires, this black offence
Be purg'd and purify'd to Innocence.
But dearest, how could you so cruel be,
To let such bliss be drest in misery?
To tell me you were dead!
How could you think but th'horror of that breath,
Must damp my Soul, and chill me into death.

Tim.
Alas, my fears could find out no relief,
But thus t'assault you in the garb of grief;
This tryal of your Faith my Joy secures,
As Thunders usher in refreshing show'rs.

Alcib.
Let us no longer then to doubts give way,
But hast to th'Consummation of our Joy,
So with our bright united flames, dispell
Those anxious mists that on our bosoms dwell,
Being of no other Jealousie possest,
But which shall kindest prove, and love the best.

Tim.
And when our faithful happy hearts shall be
Nearer united by that sacred tye,
How in an endless Road of bliss we'l move,
Steering our motions by our perfect Love!
There we with pleasure will recount each woe
Which we have pass't, and others undergoe.
There we'll reflect o'th'various hopes and fears,
The mournful sighs and the impatient tears
Of distrest Lovers, whilst we'll kindly thence,
Through a strange mystical Intelligence,
Give 'em Redresses by our influence:
Till so by ours,—
Their full-grown Joyes receive a happy birth,
As Planets in their kind Conjunctions bless the Earth.

Alcib.
Then my Timandra to our Bliss let's fly,
There's but one minute more to Extasy.

[Exeunt.
Enter Queen and Ardella.
Queen.
Oh my Ardella, whither shall I turn?
I'm all o're flame, in ev'ry part I burn.

Ar.
Your Majesty—

Queen.
—Fool, Majesty! what's that?
Th'Ill-natur'd pageant mockery of fate,
When her ungrateful sportive pow'r she'd show,
Raising us high—
To barr us of the benefits below.
But I'le her servile Policy despise,
And make her stoop to Loves great Victories.
Th'Almighty Pow'r of Heav'n came down from thence,
To tast the sweets of Am'rous Excellence:
Why then should Princes that are Gods below,
Think that a sin which Heav'n is proud to do?

Ard.
But Madam, is it not a cruel thing,
T'abuse a Loving Husband and kind King?

Qu.
Dull Girle, thou knowst not what a Husband is.
Alas, they never reach the height of bliss,
But ignorantly with Loves Magick play,
Till they raise Spirits they want pow'r to lay.
In that brave Alcibiades there swarm,
So many graces, he's all over charm;
Such killing Ayres in each part of him move,
His Brow darts Majesty, and his Eye Love:
Oh my Ardella, I am lost in thought!
I fain wou'd have thee—yet 'tis false, I'd not.

Ard.
Madam, your Royal pleasure but relate,
I'le be as faithful, and as firm as Fate.

Qu.
Art thou then skilful in Loves subtle arts,
Cunningly to lay Ambuscades for hearts?
Canst thou express a melting kind desire,
And give a feeling draught of Loves soft fire?

Ard.
Madam, so subt'ly I'le his heart betray,
As one, who by some great Magicians pow'r,
Is hurry'd through the Regions in an hour,
And for return again, can find no way.

Qu.
My better Angel! fly then swift as time,
Or thought; thou 'gainst a Queen in gaining him,
But use such secresy as stoln Loves should have,
Be dark as the hush't silence of the Grave.

Ard.
Madam, distrust not but that I shall do,
Both what is to your Love and Honour due.

Qu.
Honour! a very word; an empty name:
How dully wretched is the Slave to Fame!
Give me the Soul that's large and unconfin'd;
Free as the Ayr, and boundless as the Wind:
Nature was then in her first excellence,
When undisturb'd with puny Conscience,
Mans Sacrifice was pleasure, his God, sence.

Enter Tessaphernes.
Tiss.
Madam by th'Kings command I'm to you sent,
Wh' attends your Royal presence in his Tent.

Qu.
I go.—

Exeunt. Qu, and Ardella.
Tiss.
—Now all is Ripe, me-thinks I see
Treason walk hand in hand with Destiny,
And both in a kind Aspect smile on me.
Now the whole Court proceeds to solemnize
The Nuptials of proud, Alcibiades.
Where ev'ry thing does as I'd wish combine,
To give a happy end to my designe.
It is our custom at a Marriage Feast,
The Bridegroom—
With a full Bowl presents his chiefest guest.
The Cup's by my great secresy and care,
With strongest potion all infected are:
Which when our Alcibiades shall bring,
And offer as his duty to the King,
The Poyson and his sudden death will seem,
Fully a Trayterous design in him.
Then must the Crown descend on me, and so
I feast my Rage, and my Ambition too.
Let Cowards spirits start at Crueltie,
Remorse has still a stranger been to me.
I can look on their pains with the same eyes,
As Priests behold the falling Sacrifice.
Whilst they yell out the horrour of their moans,
My heart shall dance to th'Musick of their groanes.

[Exit.
Enter Captain of the Guards.
Cap.
Look that your care and diligence be great,
See the Guards doubled, and each Cent'nal set.

[Exit.
The Scene drawn, discovers the Tent of a Pavilion; in it an Altar, behind which are seated the King and Queen attended by Tissaphernes, Patroclus, and the rest of the Camp; about the Altar stand several Priests of Hymen.
K.
Each day brings some surprize of pleasure, here
Love vyes his Tryumphs with the God of War.

Six Priests of Hymen Dance. The Dance ended, Enter chief Priest and Priestess of Hymen; Priest leading Timandra, and the Priestess Alcibiades.
Priest
Sings.
Distracting Jealousies and fears,
Heart-breaking sobs and restless tears
Fly to the breasts that are
Wrack't with despair
In this,

Preist.
Or this.

Cho.
No tears but those of Joy, no paintings but of bliss.

Priesless.
Yes, yes, by Love alone we see
On Earth the glorys of a Diety:
For 'tis the greatest work above,
To be innocent and Love.
Those then that flame so nobly here,
What Ravishing delights must they have there!

Cho.
Who on Earth to their honour are just, and their Love
Must reap the chief blessings above.

Priest.
Let's then proceed, and Hymens aid implore,
To joyn those hands whose hearts were link't before.

Priesless.
Agreed.

Prest.
Agreed.

Priesl.
Agreed.

Prest.
Agreed.

Cho.
Hymen, Oh Hymen, come away,
Crown the wishes of this day.
See, see these pure refin'd desires,
Wait at thy Torch, wait at thy Torch to improve their fires.

Whilst this Chorus is singing, Hymen enters with his Torch, and joyns their hands with a Wreath of Roses, which the Priestess strikes with her Spear and breaks, then they offer both parts upon the Altar.
This Ceremony ended, a Dance is perform'd by four Priests and Priestesses of Hymen, all carrying in their hands short Spears muffl'd with flowers and boughs of fruit, after which a Bowl is brought in, and presented to Alcibiades, who immediately upon the receipt bows to the King, who descends with the Queen, and receives the Bowl of him, then speaks.
K.
To shew how strict a Reverence I have
Drawing near to Tissaphernes.
For ev'ry thing that Loyal is, and brave,
This signal honour only due to me,
Thus Tissaphernes I confer on thee.
[Presents him the Bowl.
Thus Tissaphernes, I confer on thee.

[Presents him the Bowl
Tiss.
Confusion! what means this?

K.
—Nay, do not start,
It is the offering of a grateful heart:
Come drink to such a depth as may express
Thy wishes for their Joy, and Sparta's happiness.

Tiss.
I must obey your Majesty—

Proffering to drink, lets fall the Bowl, and seems to Swoun back.
Pat.
Alas my Father!

K.
—How fares our worthy Friend?
Hence quickly for our chief Physitians fend.
So much this Aged Hero I esteem,
I rather could part with my Crown than him.

Tiss.
My health Sir needs no other help than this,
[faintly.
That you will pardon its Infirmities.
The Wine was of so strong an Excellence,
Its Spirits prov'd too mighty for my sence.

Alarum without. Enter Officer.
Off.
Dread Sir, your Camp th'Athenian Force Alarm's:
Without the City Gates th'appear in Arms.
And with a numerous and Warlike train,
Begin their March upon the Neighb'ring Plain.
Their bloody Ensignes all display'd appear,
And hold an am'rous Combat with the Ayre:
Loosly they flye, and with a Wanton play,
Seem to salute the Sun-beams in their way:
Whilst their shrill Trumpets rattle in the skye,
As if with Musick they'd charm Victory.
And this Triumphant Pride does higher grow,
That they may make a Conquest fit for You.

K.
'Tis well, ev'ry Battalia Re-inforce
With my late fresh supplyes of Persian Horse:
Their Fate no longer will delay endure;
Prepare to fight 'em in this very hour.
I'd have this day hereafter famous be,
For the Renown of Love and Victory.

Shouts from afar. Enter another Officer.
2d. Off.
The Enemy Sir does on the Plain appear,
And with Re-ecchoing shoutings pierce the Ayr.

K.
So Beasts decreed for slaughter e're they fall,
With their own Bell'wings ring their Funeral.