University of Virginia Library

ACT First.

SCENE First,

a Palace.
Timandra and Draxilla shouts without, Theramnes, Theramnes, Theramnes.
Enter Servant.
Tim.
What mean these shouts?

Serv.
—Oh all your hopes are crost,
The Gallant Alcibiades is lost.

Tim.
Hah!—

Serv.
—When last Night the Youth of Athens late
Rose up the Orgia to Celebrate
The Bacchanals all hot and Drunk with Wine,
He led to the Almighty Thund'rers shrine,
And there his Image seated on a Throne
They violently took and tumbled down:
This opportunity Theramnes got,
To supplant him, and his own ends promote;
For by the Senate he was doom'd to bleed,
And that his Rival shou'd in all succeed;
But he the threat'ning danger to evade,
Is to the Spartan Camp for Refuge fled:
And now by order from the Senate, all
With shouts proclaim Theramnes General.

Tim.
But is he fled? has he so meanly done,
To leave me to be wretched here alone.
Is this thy plighted Faith, is this thy Truth?
Oh too unkind, false and unconstant Youth!

[Exit Serv.
Drax.
Madam, believe not but my Brothers just,
You wrong his honour by this mean distrust;
Think you that distance can his Love rebate.

Tim.
Thy young Experience never felt the weight
Of Lovers fears; if Just, he'l easily
Excuse that Love that breeds this Jealousie.

Drax.
But Madam, for these doubts no grounds you have.

Tim.
Alas! goe ask of Mad-men why they Rave.
What more could Fate do to Augment my Woe?
I Love, am Mad, and know not what I do.
I, who before had nothing in my Eyes,
But Glory and Love growing to delight,
Like Chymists waiting for their labours prize;
My hopes are dash't and ruin'd in their height.

Drax.
Alas, we but with weak intelligence
Read Heaven's decrees, Th'are writ in Mystick sence;
For were they open lay'd to Mortal Eyes,
Men would be Gods, or they no Dieties.
Perhaps the wiser pow'rs thought fit this way
To give your growing happiness allay,
Lest should it in its high perfection come,
Your soul for the Reception might want roome.

Tim.
Thy Reasons kind Draxilla, weakly move,
What Woman e're complain'd of too much Love?
No, had I naked to the World been left,
Of Honour, and its gawdy Plumes bereft:
Yet all these I with gladness could resign,
So Alcibiades had still been mine;
But he remov'd, what can they give alone?
What is the casket when the Jewel's gone?

Drax.
Madam, if he be gone, 'tis to obtain
A nobler lustre, and return again:
Think you his great soul could with patience see,
His rifl'd Honours heap'd on's Enemy;
And not his Rage have grown to that excess,
As must have ruin'd all your happiness.
But he withdrew, and like a Zealous Hermit did forgoe
Those little Toys, to gain a Heav'n in you.

Tim.
That Zeal must needs be very weak and faint,
That lets the Votary forsake his Saint;
No, he is happy in some other flame,
And from his breast has blotted out my name:
So that there nothing more remains for me,
But a kind Death, or a long Misery.
But Death alone's th'unhappy Lovers ease,
That Seals up to us an Eternal Peace;
By that our souls to endless pleasures move,
And we enjoy an Everlasting Love.
Yet e're I dye, as dye I feel I must,
To Alcibiades I would be just;
Fain would I let him know how I resign
All in him, that his past Vows had made mine;
Then to its seat in peace my soul should flye,
And calmly at my Lovers feet I'd dye.
Draxilla, for thy Friend, what couldst thou do?

Drax.
Madam, I could do anything for you;
I know not what you'd ask me I'd deny,
Except that cruel thing, to see you dye.

Tim.
Some safe disguises for us then provide,
From watchful eyes our sudden flight to hide;
Hence to the Spartan Camp I'le forthwith move,
Born on the wings of Jealousy and Love;
For I'm resolv'd to know the worst of Fate;
I wou'd be blest; can be unfortunate;
Since 'tis the only thing of Heav'n I crave,
To meet a faithful Lover, or a Grave.

Theramnes at the Door.
Th.
—Stay kind Polyndus here
Whilst I go pay my just devotion there:
[Steping to Tim.
See fairest Queen of Love and Beauty here,
Your faithfullest & humblest Worshiper.
Who comes to offer up a Sacrifice,
To those Eternal Glorys of your Eyes:
It is a heart as spotless and sincere,
As the chast Vows of holy Vestals are;
Accept Divine one, and pronounce my doom.

Tim.
Are you my Lord to mock my Sorrows come?

Th.
No, (guided by my Love) I humbly came
To pay my duty, and present my flame.

Tim.
What flame or duty can you owe to me?

Th.
Next what the Holy to the Diety,
When they for blessings at the Altars move,
'Tis Adoration Madam, joyn'd with Love.

Tim.
Love! I thought that had been e're this o'reblown;
I'm sure it had small hopes to live upon.

Th.
That Love which only tedious hopes sustain,
Is a dull, easie, and ignoble pain:
Mine's an enliv'ning and transporting fire,
Whose flames encrease, and still are piercing higher.

Tim.
Yes, as from Piles some wilder flames essay,
To mount, but baffled part in fumes away;
So all that love you now so strongly boast,
Sever'd from hope in a weak Vapour's lost;
But you too urgent in your suit appear.

Th.
Oh what too urgent for a joy so dear!

Tim.
Since then you constancy so firmly Vow,
Worthy Theramnes, here I do so too.

[Gives her hand.
The.
Thus when the storms of Love are over-past,
We gain the wisht-for Port of bliss at last.
I ne're could doubt—

[Kisses her hand.
Tim.
—Then know I ne're can cease
From my Vow'd Love to Alcibiades.

Th.
I'm lost, and all those Joys I saw so near,
Vanish, and leave me wandring in despair:
Thus Madam Barb'rous Cruelty y'ave shown,
Raising me up only to throw me down.

Tim.
Not to deceive you, I (Theramnes) know
How much I am oblig'd t'your Love and You.
Since you such ample kindness did express,
In favour of my Alcibiades:
How poorly did you envy the esteem
I for his matchless Vertues had, and Him!
When finding him abandon'd by the State,
You, to advance your int'rest, did create
New feuds;—
As if my Love were ballanc't by his Fate:
No, he had nobler Charms my breast to move,
Unblemish't Honour, and a spotless Love;
Which though perhaps now know another flame,
Yet I have love and passion for their Name.

Th.
Am I then of all hopes of bliss debarr'd?
Oh too soft Charms sway'd by a heart too hard.

Tim.
Y'are somthing discompos'd Sir I perceive,
And 'tis but modesty to take my leave.

Th.
Oh stay and pity a poor Lovers Fate?

Tim.
If pity Sir, is all you ask, take that.

Th.
Heavens, can she at those Chains she gave me scoff!

Tim.
You at your pleasure Sir, may shake 'em off.

[Exeunt Tim. and Drax.
Enter Polyndus.
Pol.
How fares my noblest Friend?

Th.
—As those who are
Tott'ring upon the brinks of dire despair,
Help and retreive me with th'assisting hand,
Love thrusts me forward, and I cannot stand.

Pol.
Then Sir turn back and face your driving Foe.

Th.
Alas! what can a fetter'd Captive do?
The more I strive, the faster I am bound,
As ign'rant swimmers are with struggling drown'd.

Pol.
Timandra, surely can't in honour less,
Then Crown your Love with prosperous success,
When she believes, (as certainly she must)
That Alcibiades is prov'd unjust;

Th.
Alas, she Loves him with much greater flame,
And pays devotion to his very name:
Distance adds to their Loves a Violence;
And their souls hold from far Intelligence.
Thus my mistaking Policy out-run
My Fate; and I'm by my own Plots undone.

Pol.
Why do you let your soul be so opprest?
'Tis Patience best befits a gallant Breast.

Th.
Patience! Whats that? The Mistress of tame Fools,
That can in nothing else employ their souls;
No, since Timandra thou canst disapprove,
My just flame for an absent Rivals Love,
I'l find that Rival out, and snatch his breath,
Though ev'ry step I tread, encounter Death.

Pol.
Now Sir y'are brave—
Already y'ave disarm'd Timandra's charms,
Me-thinks I see you Rev'ling in her Arms;
Let's then o'th'Wings of Love and honour fly
To th'Field, and meet th'insulting Enemy:
Where through the paths of death and blood, we'l go
To meet your Rival, and his Countrys Foe:
There the remembrance of Timandra's charms,
Shall add fresh courage to your Conq'ring Arms.
But if Fate the success so order shall,
That by your Rivals Sword you chance to fall:
I then (as honour justly will command,)
Inspir'd by Friendship and Timandra's Name,
Will bravely stem him, and with this bold hand
Revenge, or fall a Victim to your flame.

Th.
Oh noble generous Youth! whose tender years,
Such gallant courage and such honour wear!
How can my aymes but in my wishes end,
Embraces him.
That have so worthy and so brave a Friend?
Come my Polyndus.—

Pol.
—On my Friend I'le wait,
Through all the Labarinths of Love and Fate.

[Exeunt.
SCENE:
The Tent of a Pavilion Royal; the King and Queen of Sparta Alcibiades, Tissaphernes, Patroclus, Guards, Ladys, &c.
K.
Now must proud Athens lay her Tryumphs down,
And pay her Glorys Tribute to my Crown;
No more shall stupid Greece her Fetters wear,
Nor make disadvantageous peace for fear;
But she her self must in subjectiom come,
And humbly at my feet expect her doom.

Tiss.
Yes Sir; all Glorys must when Yours break forth,
Go out, and lose their Beauty, and their Worth;
And like false Angels Vanish and be gone,
Dreading those shapes they durst before put on.

Pat.
Athens, the Worlds great Mistress will not be
Courted with low and vulgar Gallantry.
Her Glory aymes at higher Characters,
Then heavy Gown-men clad in formal Furrs:
Who wins her deeds 'bove common Fate must do,
And so she's only Mistress fit for You.

K.
Yes, and I only will enjoy her too.
But noble generous Youth, thou has alone
Things Worthy the Athenian honour done:
To Alcibiades.
Thou like a tow'ring Eagle soard'st above
That lower Orb in which they faintly move;
A flight too high for their dull souls to use,
Which prompted 'em that honour to abuse:
Thinking their baseness they might palliate,
With the dark Cloud of Policy and State.
But let them that black mistery pursue,
By worth and honour Empires greatest grow;
Which when abus'd, their glory does suppress,
As revers'd prospects make the object less.

Alcib.
Yours Sir, like Heav'ns great soul is General;
Dispensing its kind influence on all.
This makes success and Victory repair,
To move with you as in their proper Sphear;
As fragrant dews leave the corrupter earth,
Exhal'd by th'Sun from whom they had their Birth.

K.
The truth of that we by your Lawrels know,
Conquest your Arms, Triumph still waits your brow;
By your success th'Athenian greatness rose,
Your courage scatter'd their insulting Foes;
And from that height to which by you th'are grown,
'Tis your success alone must throw 'em down.
Thus have we made you Gen'ral of our Force;
And all those honours you were rob'd off there,
We'll make our study to redouble here.

Tiss.
Aside.
And I, (if that my Malice tell me true,)
As diligently shall his Plagues pursue.

Alcib.
Of all my Courage or my Sword shall do,
I the success must to your influence owe:
The honour and the justice of your cause,
So glorious are, Fate must from them take Laws:
So You o're Athens this advantage have,
You Fortune rule, to whom she's but a Slave.

K.
Enjoy my Tissaphernes now thy ease,
And plant fresh Lawrels in the shades of Peace.
The glorys thou hast won, so num'rous are,
They seem as many as thy age can bear.
But if thy spacious soul thou canst confine,
Within this narrow Mansion of mine:
Be this the utmost of thy wishes bound,
Possess his grateful heart, whose head th'ast Crown'd.

Tiss.
Heav'n knows my Age does feel no sharper sting,
Then to want pow'r to serve so good a King.
But since time tells me that my glass is run,
Setting me backward where I first begun;
Since no way else they can their duty show,
I'le only employ my hands to Heav'n for you:
And what my Sword can't, may devotion do.

K.
How truly he a glorious Monarch is
That's Crown'd with blessings so sublime as these!
How can I but in all things happy be,
Propt by such Courage and such Piety?
To me with Gods similitude is giv'n:
'Tis pow'r and vertue that supports their Heav'n.
Our Royal Standard to the City bear,
T'Alarm it to Obedience, or to War;
To Morrow must decide th'Athenian Fate,
This day to joy and ease we'l Consecrate.

Exeunt Om. Præt. Tiss.
Tiss.
Ungrateful King! thy shallow aymes pursue,
But my brisk Up-start Fav'rite, have at you.
Was it for this my active Youth I spent
In War? and knew no dwelling but a Tent!
Have I for this through Invious Mountains pass't?
Demolish't Cities, and lay'd Kingdoms wast?
Still in his Cause unwearied courage shown?
And almost hid his head in Crowns I won!
Upon my Breast receiv'd so many Scarrs,
They seem a War describ'd in Characters!
And must the harvest of my toyle and blood,
Upon a fawning Rebel be bestow'd?
Who having false to his own Country been,
Comes here to play his Treasons o're agen?
Must he at last tumble my Trophies down,
And Revel in the Glorys I have won?
Whilst from my Honours, they me disengage
With a dull Complement to feeble Age.
What ayles this hardy hand, that yet it shou'd
Tremble at death, or start at reeking blood?
Me-thinks this Dagger I as firmly hold,
[Draws a Dagger.
And with a strength as resolute and bold,
As he who kindly would its point impart,
A present to an envy'd Fav'rites heart;
And I fond Youth will try to work thy fall,
Though with my own I Crown thy Funeral.
Envy and Malice from your Mansions flie,
Resign your horrour and your Snakes to me;
For I'le act mischiefs yet to you unknown;
Nay, you shall all be Saints when I come down.