 | Alcibiades |  |
ACT Third.
Scene First:
The Camp.Tissaphernes.
Tiss.
Curse on my niggard Starrs, they were so poor,
That my Revenge prov'd greater than their pow'r,
My fury had begot so vast a Birth,
Fate wanted strength enough to bring it forth.
Trumpets afar: off sound a Charge.
That sprightly sound darts fiercely through my soul,
Oh that I might one minute fate Controule;
Could but command one happy fatal Dart,
To send it self into the Gen'rals heart.
Enter King and Queen attended.
K.
Thus must proud States submit when Monarchs claim:
They govern in a rude disorder'd frame,
As Stars in a dim Senate rule the Night,
But Vanish at the Suns more Potent light.
Athens now feels the fury of my heat:
A pow'r like theirs, divided, can't be great:
It may tumultuous and num'rous show,
But ne're contract to give a steady blow.
Qu.
In States those monstrous many-headed pow'rs
Of private int'rest publick good devours.
20
They know to use that power, not maintain,
Like Pyrats in a Fleet, a while they may
Seem dreadful; but when by some juster force
Oppos'd—
Each his own safety seeks, and shrinks away.
Tiss.
You Sir have Vanquish'd Emp'rours, Fetter'd Kings:
States are such mean and despicable things,
Compar'd with other glorys y'ave subdu'd,
Their Conquest seems but a soft Interlude.
Trumpets from far sound a Retreat.
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
This minute Sir, your Glorys are compleat,
The routed Enemy makes a faint Retreat:
Victory blushing, they no more could do,
With a full wing directs her flight to You.
K.
Thus Deidamia are our wishes Crown'd,
Love and Renown in the same Sphear go round:
Our lasting Loves draw lasting Victories,
Whilst Courage takes his flame from Beauties eyes.
Enter another Messenger.
2d. Mess.
Thus hourly Sir, fresh glorys you receive,
Athens no more's your Enemy, but Slave
Like the sad Ruins of a Hurricane,
Their totter'd Troops are scatter'd o're the Plain,
And in disorder'd Parties make away.
K.
Relate, how went the bus'ness of the Day?
Mess.
Brave Alcibiades has wonders done.
Ne're greater Courage was in Sparta shown.
Troops were not able to withstand his shock,
Like thunder from a Cloud his fury broke
On all his Enemies, and like that too,
Death and Amazement did attend each blow.
Long doubtful Fortune dally'd on her Wheel,
And neither seem'd to move it, nor stand still,
Till at the last the brave Polyndus fell.
21
That in disorder they began to fly.
Yet brave Theramnes Rally'd in their head,
Though so their fate was but a while delay'd,
For by our Gen'ral he was Captive made.
And which agen they did their flight renew,
With numbers too so totter'd and so few,
It had been Barbarism to pursue.
Then fair Timandra, who from far had been
An anxious looker on this Tragick Scene,
With all the hast Joy could, or love afford,
Flies to congratulate her Conqu'ring Lord;
Now both in solemn Triumph this way move,
To Crown your Glorys as you Crown'd their Love.
Trumpets. Enter Alcibiades, Patroclus, Timandra and Theramnes Prisoner: Alcibiades kneels to the King.
K.
Sir, of your brav'ry I've already heard,
So much above the power of Reward;
It were but just that I should homage do,
And offer up acknowledgments to you.
Rise Sir, and give this Ceremony o're,
The posture ill becomes a Conquerour.
[Alcib. rises.
Alcib.
Conqu'rours that are Triumphant in the Field,
Must at their Monarchs feet their Trophies yield;
For all those glorys which their Conquests claim,
They only have subordinate from them.
Thus, though my Sword this Captive has o'recome,
It is from You he must expect his Doom.
Th.
Yes, and in this you have o'recome him too,
He cannot talk Sir half so fast as you.
Curse, though I am your Prisoner, I hate
To hear your pride upbraid me with my Fate.
Alcib.
Why Sir, was't not my favour that you live?
Th.
No; for I hate that Life your hand did give.
Know, had your Fate been mine—
I should have urg'd kind destiny more home,
And there have Revell'd Rival in your room.
22
Sir, for your Love, you shew but weak pretence,
When all your Arguments is Insolence.
Whence does it spring?
The.
—From whence your bliss you draw,
Love, that ne're clog'd his Proselytes with Law.
I lov'd this fair one first, and you must know
I'l love her still; And what's all that to you?
Alcib.
This Rudeness Sir, my fury can't Engage,
You are ill-manner'd, and beneath my Rage.
The.
But know, I'l follow still my hate to thee;
Nor shall my Chains obstruct thy destiny:
Thou did'st supplant me in Timandra's Love,
For which I gave thy glorys a remove;
And on thy Ruins made my self more great:
But since my wishes Fate would not compleat,
My Fury with my Fortune shan't decrease,
I'l still pursue thy Life and happiness:
By all despaires dark arts thy fall design,
Till in thy blood I write Timandra mine.
Alcib.
Rave on; know of your threats no sence I feel,
I'd laugh at 'em, wer't not to loose a smile.
K.
But I'l take care that he shall better know,
What 'tis a Captive for his life does owe.
How dare you offer here these Injuries?
Know you how much this gallant man I prize?
Guards, to Confinement the Offender bear,
Be his Bounds narrow, and restraint severe,
Since in your breast such a hot frenzy reigns,
We'l try how you can brave it in your Chains.
Th.
So King, as Thou shalt envy what Th'as done,
I have a soul can smile when Thou dost frown.
Whilst I Timandras fair Idea wear,
I can't want freedom, for I'l think of her.
Exit Guarded.
K.
Thus Madam, to your Eyes must Conquest bow,
Who are your Slaves no other Fetters know.
Tim.
If any charms in me there can appear,
They only are confin'd and bounded there:
No greater aymes, nor more Ambition know,
Then how Sir to obliege him that serves you.
23
Your gen'rous pitty to our faithful flames,
That power which it gave 'em justly claimes.
Thus happy by your great indulgence made,
In Joyes so perfect; nothing can Remove,
Your spreading gloryes ne're shall shrink or fade;
Till you forget to aspire, and we to love.
But how dare I Usurp the least pretence,
Who only borrow all my Lawrells hence!
[pointing to Patr.
This is that noble Youth, who, when I stood
Beset on every side with death and blood:
To my relief such gen'rous succour brought,
And things so much above ev'n wonder wrought.
Pat.
You, Sir, that taught me friendship, taught me too,
How much is to that Sacred title due.
No Sir, if your Life at hazard lye,
Though thousand deaths should dare me on I'l fly,
And Conquer all, or bravely with you dye.
Alcib.
In gallantry you are so absolute,
That I grow faint, and flag in the pursuit.
Yet that return accept in silence here,
Which is so great 'twill no expression bear,
[Embraces him.
Tiss.
Hell! Sure my blood is grown degenerate.
Can this my Son Embrace the man I hate?
[Aside.
K.
How Tissaphernes, is thy good age blest
In such a Son, of such a friend possest?
Thus from thy Rev'rend Trunk fresh glories spread,
And with their pious Lawrels shade thy head.
Tiss.
In this warm Comfort patiently I'l sit,
Till Fate shall come and claim her latest debt.
Sometimes my Youths past Triumphs I'l review,
And please my self they were approv'd by you:
Alas I've nothing else left now to do.
[Ironically.
Oh my dear Boy! Sir, be my Joy thus showne,
Possess the Father as you've gain'd the Son.
[Embraces both.
K.
Monarchs thus propt, the shocks of Fate defie,
No bonds so firm as those which Friendship tye.
[Exit King attended; Manent, Alcibiades, Timandra and Draxilla.
24
Now noblest Sister, how shall be repayd
Those large endearments which your love has made.
Our happiness will but Imperfect prove,
If midst the growing pleasures of our love,
We nothing else ingratitude can do,
Then only with a happiness to you.
Deax.
What I have done Sir, never had regard,
To that Sinister thing we call Reward.
Good deeds their worth and value have from hence,
They their own Glory are and Recompence.
Alcib.
But Sister, if I might one Question move;
Drax.
Your pleasure Sir?—
Alcib.
—Could you not Madam—Love?
The Friend in whom I'm happy since I came,
In honour's as renown'd as in his name.
He, when I to him often would Relate
The sad adventures of my love and fate;
So much your gallant Friendship did admire:
That with your Character he grew on fire;
And bears a flame so noble and sublime,
As not to love agen would be a crime.
Drax.
Sir, that's a thing I cannot now discourse;
Love rarely Conquers with a sudden force.
Nor must I that acknowledge as my due,
Which was perhaps a Complement to you:
If any thing in me he can approve,
I may believe it gallantry, not Love.
Alcib.
I shall no more your modesty offend.
Pardon a forward Zeal to serve my Friend.
But if ought add a blessing, 'twill to see
You made as happy as you have made me.
Exeunt.
Enter Tissaphernes and Patroclus.
Tiss.
D'you understand, Patroclus, what y'ave done?
Have you consider'd that you are my Son?
Patr.
Sir, 'tis a title I am proud of.—
Tiss.
How can you then descend to things so base,
That blot my Glory, and my Name deface?
Whilst thus your blinded folly so adores,
The only Traytor that my soul abhorrs?
25
How Sir, I doat upon the man you hate!
No, I had never thoughts so impious yet.
By all my hopes, if any wretch there be
S' unhappy to be held your enemy,
Rather then in my Breast his image bear,
I'd raze it from my heart, or stab it there.
Tiss.
Stay least you should pronounce too rash a doom:
Believe it is a blow will wound you home.
But I will try—
What gen'rous resolution you express,
Know then you must hate Alcibiades.
Patr.
Protect me heav'n! can you command that
Should break that knot you did so lately tye!
Was't not your love that did our friendship joyn?
Did not your kind imbraces second mine?
Tiss.
Embraces! Love! and kindness! what are these?
The outward varnish that our hearts disguise.
Hast thou so long with Courts conversant been,
The various turns of power and greatness seen,
And hast thou not this mistery yet found,
Always to smile in's face we mean to wound?
Come you must hate him, nay and kill him too.
Patr.
Oh let me rather beg my death from you.
Can you command me Sir to wound a heart,
Whereof I do profess so great a part?
In that I should prove a self-murderer:
Peircing his Breast I stab m' own image there.
Tiss.
Come lay these idle boyish scruples down,
Do as becomes your Vertue and my Son.
Can you behold him rev'ling in my place,
And turning all my honours to disgrace.
And can you of so little value prize
The honour of your blood, not to shed his?
Patr.
Oh Sir, no farther urge this horrid Theam,
'Twill blast your gloryes and your wreathes defame.
26
See if it ben't as spotless and serene
As that which in their heav'n blest Saints enjoy,
Pure and untouch't but with a thought of sin.
By all th'endearments of a filial love,
[kneels.
And if that charm cannot your pitty move,
By my dear Mothers ghost, whose dying pray'r
Bequeath'd me her chief treasure to your care,
This unjust cruel enmity lay down,
And do not in his friend destroy your Son.
On the past brav'ry of your youth look back.
There the bright paths of all your Triumphs track:
Think what 'twill be those gloryes to exchange,
For a base brutal infamous revenge.
Oh Sir recal, recal the dire decree,
Tis such a deed as fate will shrink to see.
Tiss.
Then 'tis the fitter to be done by me.
Give this unmanly Childish pitty o're,
Or ne're presume to call me Father more.
Patr.
Then see how I resigne that int'rest here:
[rises.
Thus all the bonds of duty cancel'd are.
Whilst such black horrours in your soul I see,
Y'are not my Father, but my enemy.
Now against me let all your vengeance come,
Thus thus my breast for your revenge has room.
Brave Alcibiades.—
No, since such barbarous mischiefs you dare do,
I'l dye for him, but scorn to live for you.
Why don't you strike Sir? is your rage grown faint?
Tiss.
I fear I've too much trifl'd with this boy;
Curse on his honour, 'twill my hopes destroy.
But I'l smooth all in time. Oh my dear Son,
Now art thou worthy to be cal'd my own.
None but a heart that's truly noble cou'd
Ever deserve a Title to my blood.
27
As truly happy, as I am in thee.
That's curst.—
[aside
Patr.
Is then my father kind? can he approve
Our friendship? does he once more crown our love?
Oh Sir, let thus m' acknowledgment be giv'n,
As we for blessings offer thanks to heav'n.
[kneels.
Tiss.
Rise, rise thou comfort of my Age, I now
Have understood all I could wish to know.
Alas, in this disguise I did but try
The strength and vertue of thy constancy.
'Tis a refreshment to this hoary head,
To prove that vertue which my self have bred.
Thus blest in peace I'l to my Grave descend.
As the declining Sun goes down at night,
Pleas'd with the rising of an off-spring light.
Patr.
Such mystick wayes fate does our loves confirm,
As rooted Trees stand faster by a storm.
After this shock our friendship's more secure,
As Gold try'd in the fire comes forth more pure.
[Exit.
Tiss.
There's some foundation yet for my design;
The Captiv's brave, I'l try to make him mine.
Unwearied I will let my fury range,
And leave no heart unsearcht to find revenge.
[Exit.
SCENE a dark Tent.
Theramnes in Chains.
The.
How sweet a quietude's in fetters found!
That it seems almost freedom to be bound.
Though thus confin'd, my agile thoughts may fly
Through all the Region of variety.
Here in a trice I can the World run o're,
And finish whole years labours in an hour.
28
That is the only bitterness I taste.
This outward fetter but my Body chains,
But that the freedom of my Soul detains.
Why by my Rivals Sword did I not fall;
So bravely have embrac'd one death for all?
Yet why should I court such an abject fate?
Courage is the supporter of the great.
Methinks I've something yet to do, might prove
Becoming both my glory and my love.
I'l—hah this does my busie thoughts prevent.
[Enter Tiss.
Is that old feind for a Tormenter sent?
Good Sir, upon what message are you come?
Am I then destin'd to some harder doom?
Tiss.
No, I am come to give your sorrows ease:
I know you hate Sir Alcibiades:
Nay and I know you love Timandra too.
The.
Well Sir, all this I know as well as you.
Tiss.
Come if you dare be brave, be't on this theam:
Dare you Sir ravish her and murder him?
The.
For what dark ends do you this question bring?
Dare! 'sdeath, old Sir, I dare do any thing.
Tiss.
That word then all my former doubts secures,
Be only res'lute, and Timandra's yours.
My stratagems so subtly I will lay,
That to your arms your Mistress I'l betray.
Thus then, as the first step to our design,
Your guards I'l with adulterated wine
Secure; so they Charm'd in a Lethargy,
I'l from your bonds and prison set you free.
Then when some happy moment shall present
Timandra left ungarded in her tent,
Both of us thither in disguise will move,
To end your rival and compleat your love.
For when your fill of bliss you have enjoy'd,
And your full pleasures with themselves are cloy'd:
29
Where by both Swords he shall be sure to dye.
And the next night (the watch-word given by me)
You may, scape through the Guards to liberty.
The.
Revenge! my love enjoy'd, and freedom too!
Then in the name of Pluto be it so.
What stupid ignorance the World possest,
That only fury plac't i'th'youthful breast!
No 'tis in age alone great Spirits are young:
The Soul's but infant when the Body's strong.
These hoary heads like grisly Comets are,
Which always threaten ruin death and war.
Tiss.
Alas such tame Souls know but half a growth,
I'l make my age a step to a new youth:
Such murders and such cruelties maintain,
I'l from the blood I shed grow young again.
The.
Let's in the name of horrour then go on;
Methinks I long to have the bus'ness done:
Something like Conscience else may all defeat,
You know Sir I'm but a raw villain yet.
Tiss.
Conscience! a trick of State, found out by those
That wanted power to support their Laws;
A bug-bear name to startle fools, but we
That know the weakness of the fallacie,
Know better how to use what nature gave.
That Soul's no Soul which to it self's a slave.
Who any thing for Conscience sake deny,
[Exeunt.
Do nothing else but give themselves the lye.
SCENE the Camp.
Enter Patroclus and Draxilla.
Patr.
Why Madam do you fly a lovers pray'r?
Is cruelty the priviledge o'th'fair?
30
You cannot Sir i'th'Camp be beauties slave,
Where honour's th'only. Mistress of the brave.
Patr.
But 'tis a rugged honour got in Arms,
When not made soft by beauties sweeter charms.
That melts our rage into a kind desire,
Whilst love refines it in his purer fire.
Drax.
Lovers whose flights so sublime pitches choose,
Oft soar too high, and so their quarry loose.
But you Sir know to moderate your height,
Missing your game can eas'ly slack the flight.
Patr.
Such faint essays may fit a common flame,
But my desires have a far nobler Aime,
Religious honour, and a zeal that's true,
Rais'd by that Deity to which I sue.
Drax.
Those who to deities their offerings pay,
Make their addresses in an humbler way.
Not in a confidence of what they give,
But modest hopes of what they shall receive.
Patr.
I in my offerings no assurance have,
Though an ambition to become your slave.
Drax.
Yes, but when once admitted to that place,
You'l still be looking for some acts of grace.
Patr.
Some little favours pitty can't deny,
You are too noble to use cruelty.
Drax.
See Sir the Queen, I beg you Sir forbear.
[Exeunt.
Patr.
Madam this way—
Enter Queen and Ardella.
Qu.
Did he then suffer no surprize? no shew
Of alteration? let's the progress know.
Ard.
In order Madam t'your command I went,
And met him coming from the Royal Tent:
Where after th'usual Ceremonies past,
E're I would feast I gave him first a taste,
Told him how much his courage you approv'd,
That he in no mean path of glory mov'd,
31
T'engage a Monarch and oblige a Queen.
Then nearer came, and whisper'd something more,
Began to intimate loves mighty pow'r.
He briskly took the hint, and readily
Began to urge some pretty things to me.
By which encourag'd I to th'bus'ness drew,
Told him in fine it only was his due
To be admir'd by all, and lov'd by you.
Qu.
And did not then his alter'd looks betray
Some extasie? some marks of lively joy?
Ard.
No Madam, he knew better policy,
Talk't of your honour, and his loyalty,
Fine smoothing terms to cloak a passion in.
But if your Majesty—
Qu.
—What?—
Ard.
—Had but seen
How much his carriage did his words deceive,
When with a gentle sigh he took his leave,
As if he languish'd till the minute came.
Qu.
Dost thou then think he entertains my flame?
Lets to my Tent and wait his coming there,
Such swarms of love within my Breast there are,
The heat's too furious for my Soul to bear.
What would I give but for a taste of bliss!
Oh the choice sweets of a stol'n happiness?
| Alcibiades | |