University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE II.

Philisthenes and Antigone meet.
SCENE the Mouth of a Cave in a Grove.
Ant.
Oh! my Philisthenes, sad news! sad news!
My cruel Fathers Feaver of Revenge
Grows on him every hour, night brings him all
The restless shades of Hell, day all the Flames,
He's ever calling for thy Fathers Blood:
How greedily wou'd he drink thine more sweet?
But do not fear; as soon as Night appears
Away we'll fly from this accursed place,
Devoted by our Fathers to all ill:
By thine to Incest, and by mine to blood.

Phi.
Oh! Gods! what dreadful miseries must befall
Th'unhappy Off-spring of two such bad men?

Ant.
Our Innocence and Love will guard us safe:
I have prepar'd a Chariot for our flight
To the Ægean Sea, and there a Boat
Lies lock'd at Anchor, in a Creek so small,
It seems a little Closet of the Sea,
Where Mayden Calms lye hid from Ruffian Winds:
The Creek appears a wrinkle made with age,
In a high Promontories bending brow.
The little Harbour is o're-look'd by all
But a poor humble Fisherman, whose Hut
Is all the Castle that commands the Port:
There needs no Porter where there is no Door.
Nothing they think can creep out o' that Chink.
The honest Fisherman expects us both
E're Night be old; then let us fearless fly,
We cannot lose our way, for we transport
Our Journeys end along with us, our selves.

Phi.
What Beauty, and Love, do I to Misery lead?
Oh! Love! I lead thee from thy Fathers rage
To a more cruel Tyrant, merciless want!
My Fathers sins have press'd him down so low,
He stoops to eat the Charitable Bread
Of a poor aged Man, Peneus by Name.

Ant.
I knew that man: oh! that's a good old man!

Phi.
Where he conceals my Father, I know not;
He would not trust the secret with my Youth,
For fear I shou'd be cheated by ill men;
But from my Father oft he Presents brings,
Such as his miserable Fortune yields:
Their chiefest value is my Fathers Love.
Now shall I steal thee from thy Fathers Court,
And cannot give thee for it a poor Cave?

Ant.
I foresaw this, and all my Jewels brought:
Those with our Love will make a great Estate.

Phi.
Oh! you kind Gods! which way have I deserv'd
Such wondrous Love, from such a wondrous Maid?

Ant.
What have I done with 'em?—I have 'em not—
I have not lost 'em sure.
I left 'em in my Chamber, I did ill,
For I abhor to thrust my head again
Within that cursed House, which is a Sink
Where Jove throws all the scum of all ill stanes;
And Furies watch'd my absence, I'm afraid,
To set my Jewels in some baleful Charm:
But I'le go fetch 'em; hide! oh! hide, my Dear!
Down to the darkest corner of the Vault.

Phi.
Oh! let me see thee, as long as e're I can.

Ant.
No, no, 'tis dangerous, down, down, my Love!
Oh! Cave, be faithful to thy precious trust,
And all the youthful Lovers in the World,
With flowry Wreaths shall crown thy rocky brow,
Shall make a Temple of thee, and adore
Night's little Picture that adorns thy Walls,
Night Lover's Goddess, and Eternal Friend.
Farewell my Love.

Phi.
Farewell my Dear!—my Eyes
[Ex. Ant.
Are fastned to her steps, and I must look
What-e're it cost me.

Enter a Captain of the Guard with a Guard, and seize Phil.
Capt.
And 'twill cost thee dear.

Phi.
Betray'd? ha! what are you?

Capt.
King Atreus Guard.

Phi.
Oh! I am lost!

Capt.
Indeed young man, thou art
So lost, I pity thee; and wou'd it cost
No life but mine, by Heaven, I'd set thee free.
But were it known, 'twou'd cost a thousand Lives;
My single Life wou'd to the raging King
Be but like a little Pillar to the Sea;
Not stop the Waves, but make 'em foam the more.
And that 'twill be discover'd is as sure
As there are Spies and Villains in a Court.

Phi.
What have I done, the King shou'd seek my Life?

Capt.
Thy Father sinn'd both for himself and thee.

Phi.
I from my Father receive no Estate,
'Tis hard I shou'd inherit all his Faults.

Capt.
May the King use thee as thou dost deserve.

Phi.
Since you have so much pity, I dare beg
For my Dear Love; (whom I must see no more!)
I know you over-heard our talk!

Capt.
We did.

Phi.
Oh! spare her Life; and do not tell the King
She loves unhappy me.

Capt.
No, no, dear Youth,
For our own sakes we'll hide it from the King:
Small trust he'd put in us, if he shou'd find
His daughter false.

Phi.
She is not false; but Fate
Deals ill with her, to cast her Love on me.

Capt.
Ah! cruel Chance, that brought me to this Cave,
To ruine this unhappy lovely pair.

Phi.
Ah! poor Antigone! ah! wretched me!—

Ex. Phi. with the Guard. At another Door enter Antigone.
Ant.
Methought complaining sounds came from the Cave;
The sounds of differing Voices were compos'd;
I'm in a horrid Agony with fear!
I cannot stay, yet forward dare not go.
Forward I must; how deadly cold I am,
As if death stood between the Cave and me?
If I meet not my Love, I shall with Death:
He is not in the Cave; where is he wander'd?—
My Love! Philisthenes—my Love, my Love!
Where art thou hid? Come hither, I am here,
Antigone is here!—my Love—my Love.
Oh! nothing answers, he is seiz'd!—he's lost!—

She falls in a Swoun. Enter Peneus.
Pen.
Ha! what is she, that sleeps in open Air?
Indeed the place is far from any path,
But what Conducts to melancholly thoughts;
But those are beaten Roads about this Court.
Her Habit calls her, noble Grecian Maid;
But her sleep says she is a Stranger here.
All Birds of Night build in this Court, but Sleep;
And sleep is here made wild with loud Complaints,
And flies away from all; I wonder how
This Maid has brought it to her lure so tame.

Ant.
Oh! my Philisthenes!

Pen.
She wakes to moan;
Ay! that's the proper Language of this place!

Ant.
My Dear! my poor Philisthenes is seiz'd!
I know 'tis so! oh! Horrour! Death! Hell!—oh!

Pen.
I know her now, 'tis fair Antigone!
The Daughter and the Darling of the King,
This is the Lot of all this Family.
Beautious Antigone! thou know'st me well;
I am old Peneus, one who threescore years
Has lov'd and serv'd thy wretched Family,
Impart thy sorrows to me, I perhaps
In my wide Circle of Experience,
May find some Counsel that may do me good.

Ant.
Oh! good old man! how long have you been here?

Pen.
I came but now.

Ant.
Oh! did you see this way
Poor young Philisthenes? you know him well.

Pen.
Thy Uncles Son? Thyestes eldest Son?

Ant.
The same! the same!

Pen.
No, all the Gods forbid
I shou'd meet him so near thy Fathers Court.

Ant.
Oh! he was here, one cursed minute past.

Pen.
What brought him hither?

Ant.
Love to wretched me.
Our warring Fathers never ventur'd more
For bitter hate, than we for innocent Love.
Here, but a minute past, the dear youth lay;
Here in this brambly Cave lay in my Arms;
And now he's seiz'd! oh! miserable me!

[She tears her Hair.
Pen.
Why dost thou rend that Beautious Ornament?
In what has it offended? hold thy hands.

Ant.
Oh! Father! go and plead for the poor Youth!
No one dares speak to the fierce King but you.

Pen.
And no one near speaks more in vain than I;
He spurns me from his presence like a Dog.

Ant.
Oh! then—

Pen.
She Faints! She Swouns!—I frightned her!—
Oh! I spoke indiscreetly!—Daughter! Child!
Antigone! I'le go!—indeed—I'le go!—

Ant.
There is no help for me in Heaven or Earth.

Pen.
There is, there is, despair not sorrowful Maid,
All will be well—I'm going to the King,
And will with powerful reasons bind his hands;
And something in me says I shall prevail;
But to whose care shall I leave thee mean while?
For, oh! I dare not trust thee to thy grief.

Ant.
I'le be dispos'd of, Father, as you please,
Till I receive the blest or dreadful doom.

Pen.
Then come, dear Daughter, lean upon my arm,
Which old and weak is stronger yet than thine,
Thy Youth has known more sorrow than my age.
I never hear of grief, but when I'm here:
But one days diet here of Sighs and Tears,
Returns me elder home by many years.

[Ex. Pen. Ant.

[Scene]

SCENE the Court.
Enter Atreus, Captain of the Guard.
Atr.
Thyestes eldest Son fallen in my Hands?
I find the Gods are tyr'd with holding up
The ponderous Villain, long above my Sword,
And mean to let him fall, in the mean while
They fling his Race like Vipers from their hands.
Bring in the Youth—
Enter Guard with Philisthenes.
How now Boy? what Affair?
What vast Affair; in value worth a Life,
Made thee adventure to this dangerous place?

Phi.
Love to my native soyl; I came to see
The Court and Kingdom of my Ancestors;
And this great Palace where I had my birth:
For I was told King Atreus was so good,
He pardon'd and forgot his Brothers faults?

Atr.
How bold and ready art thou in a lye?
Who cou'd inform thee I had pardon'd faults
Which cannot be forgiven by Men or Gods?
To what strange thing didst thou believe me turn'd
To a tame Beast? no Beast but loves Revenge:
To a mild God? He cannot be a God
That wants Revenge. 'Tis a Gods chief delight,
They mark it for their own: what then, a Tree?
Alas! why did not thy good Father come
And whore my Wife under my Bawdy Shade?
So dumb a Husband need not have been fear'd,
Nor such a piece of Lumber of a King.
And thou didst come to cut me down, in hopes
My Subjects were as weary of my Life,
As thy lewd horrid Father has made me.

Phi.
I scorn an act so Villanous and base.

Atr.
What crowd is this assembled in my Breast?
My Soul's a Theatre with Furies fill'd.
[Aside.
The Ghastly throng fling all their eager looks
Upon a Table spread with mangled Limbs,
And smoking bowls ore-gorg'd with reeking blood;
Their Eyes grow larger with the pleasing sight;
And the deluded Guest, who eats his Son,
Stamps all their Cheeks with a malicious smile.
The Vision takes! the Story's great and brave,
I'le give it my Revenge to Copy out.
Now with my Daughter I'le entice this Youth
To cheat his Father with a proffer'd Crown.
To meet a Crown, he'd rush on thundring Jove,
Plunge in the Sea when Winds and Billows fight,
Or on deep quicksands, that wou'd swallow hills;
Nay, worse than all these joyn'd,—he wou'd meet me—
Yes, and he shall— (Aside.)
Philisthenes, bold Youth;
Something in thee has made Friends in my heart,
Who by plain force have master'd my Revenge,
After a long and fierce and dubious fight,
And make it bow to offer thee thy Life.
What sayst thou, Youth? hast thou a mind to live?

Phi.
Let Nature answer for me.

Atr.
But to live
On the ill terms of being Friends to me?

Phi.
What God puts those good thoughts into your Soul?

Atr.
Thy own desert; I love thee, noble Youth.

Phi.
Oh! I am overwhelm'd?

[Weeps and falls at the Kings Feet.
Atr.
The sweet Youth weeps,
And prostrates at my Feet; this must not be:
Rise, rise, my own best blood, my own best self,
The Hope and Pillar of our falling House:
What wilt thou disobey my first command?

Phi.
Which of the best of Gods have done this good?

Atr.
Come to me, near my Heart, within my Heart.
As soon as ever I beheld thy Eyes,
Something flew from 'em, like a Charming God,
And bid the Furies leave my troubled Breast;
They strugled hard, but now they are all gone;
And now my heart is free for all my Friends.
Oh! that I had thy Father in my Arms;
In what perfection wou'd be my full joy?

Phi.
And can you be so excellent to forgive
My Father too?

Atr.
Ay! sooner than my self.
My barb'rous Rage I never shall forgive.

Phi.
How good are you? For you had been most kind,
When you most heavily was wrong'd.

Atr.
No more;
Dear Youth, let all thy Fathers Errors dye;
My mortal spite shall only be at them,
And his too lasting hatred. Wou'd I knew
Where my poor wandring exil'd Brother rov'd,
That I might send, or rather go my self
To Court him to my Arms, and to a Crown,
To be my Friend, and be my King, his turn.

Phi.
And do you mean it, Sir?

Atr.
That is unkind!
Dost thou suspect my Truth?

Phi.
I do not, Sir;
But I am so transported with my Joy,
I know not what I think, or what I say.

Atr.
Then know'st thou where thy Father is, dear Youth?

Phi.
I do not, Sir; but good old Peneus does.

Atr.
Does he indeed?

Phi.
Yes, my poor Father, Sir,
Has all his bread from him.

Atr.
Oh! false old Rogue!—
[Aside.
Alas! poor Brother, art thou fall'n so low,
To live upon old Servants broken Meat?
But, good old Peneus, thou giv'st what thou hast,
By all the Gods thou shalt have thy reward.
See, here he comes! come hither pious man.

Enter Peneus.
Pen.
What means this change?—

[Aside.
Atr.
I am to give thee thanks
For my own innocence, my Brothers Life;
It seems, 'tis thou, that hid him from my Rage,
And given him Bread, and starv'd my fierce revenge.

Pen.
Who told you this?

Atr.
Nay, be not startled, Man;
No other hurt is meant thee, than my Love;
But I'm so bad a Man, men shun my Love,
And think the Gods curse all whom I embrace.

Pen.
I'm sure you once were good, but potent wrongs
To flaming vengeance grappled you so fast,
I thought no Art or Strength cou'd set you free.

Atr.
A thousand things conspir'd thy strong advice:
The tempting sight of this most noble Youth;
And last my Nature tyr'd with standing bent
Always to ill, bowed down by force of wrongs,
Starts up for ease, to its own posture, Love;
Love of my Bother, this dear Youth his Son;
And of my Sov'reign happiness, my Wife:
What think you, Sirs, did I not love my Wife?

Pen.
Your passion for her hatred shew'd your Love;
Though some believe she's wrong'd as much as you.

Atr.
Faulty or not, so powerful was my Love,
My wounded dying Love, had greater strength
Than all my rage in its most vigorous Youth,
And held me from her Life, that still she lives.
'Tis true, in heavy sorrow, so she ought
If she offended, as I fear she has,
Her hardships though she owes to her own choice.
I've often offer'd her my useless Couch;
For what is it to me? I never sleep.
But for her Bed, she chuses the hard floor.
My Table is spread for her; I never eat:
And she'll take nothing but what feeds her grief.
Hair-cloth and Chains she wears, but by that means
She makes me wear 'em, 'cause I feel her pains.

Phi.
Oh! how Report has wrong'd this excellent King?

Atr.
But now I've hopes to see my Brother's Face:
My spacious Arms extend to Heaven and Hell;
And I've the choice of both, which is soon made.
Oh! Peneus! bring my Brother to my Arms,
And greater joy shall lift the down-cast head
Of Pelop's House, than ever it beheld.
I'le give my Daughter to my Brother's Son,
And then our joys are fastned at the root.

Phi.
I shall run mad with Joy.—

[Aside.
Pen.
Is not this Art?
[Aside.
Methinks on this so fine Carv'd Pedestal,
An Image with two Faces I discern.

Atr.
Dear Peneus, hasten on thy Embassy.

Pen.
An Embassy that's worthy of a God;
And wou'd I were a God, that I might find
The wandring Prince, and finish this blest work.

Atr.
Know'st thou not where he is then?

Phi.
Oh! yes, Sir!
Ah! Peneus, why do you distrust the King?

Pen.
Ah! poor deluded Youth—

[Aside.
Atr.
He fears I'm false;
I blame him not, for I am a bad man:
I deserve all the wrongs I have indur'd;
All I desire is leave to pardon wrongs.

Phi.
Oh! Father of my Father, thou whose great
And pious Charity preserv'd his Life,
Do not destroy us all by needless doubts.

Pen.
Gods! guide me in this doubtful Labyrinth.
[Aside.
Let me not be misguided by vain doubt,
To be the death of seeming new-born joy:
But if the King dissembles, (oh good Gods!)
Let not my age, and this unknowing Youth,
Be worse misguided both, to be the death
Of his dear Father he, I of my Friend.

Atr.
The wary wise old man distrusts me still.
Oh! Brother, thou hast Friends, but I have none.

Pen.
Yes, I am, Sir, your Friend, as much as his
But more to Faith and Honesty than both.

Atr.
Well, I will put my Kingdom in thy hands.
Behind the Palace, in a sacred Field,
Secur'd by twenty Walls, and watch'd by Guards,
Rests all the Fortune of our Royal House.
A shining Ram whose yellow Fleece is Gold;
The Sands of Tagus are not half so rich;
Whoever has possession of this Beast,
Has all the Fortune of our House in pawn,
An Hostage all our Gods cannot redeem,
They are in perfect Friendship with that Prince
To whom they send this Wealthy Minister;

Pen.
By long Experience, Sir, I know all this.

Atr.
Ho! there! go catch and bind the Sacred Ram.
A Field discover'd; a Golden Ram seen in the Head of a Flock of Sheep; a Guard round the Field; they bring the Ram to the King.
Peneus, this present to my Brother bear,
As a rich Pledge of my Eternal Love.
Give it to him, on no Condition,
But that he come and take his turn to Reign.

Phi.
Oh! good Gods!

Atr.
Still dost thou harbour doubt?

Pen.
Whether I Dream or no.

Phi.
Oh! on my knees,
I beg with Tears suspect the King no more;
I've had no joy in all my Youth till now,
And now good Fortune, like a Noon-day Sun,
Breaks out upon me, if with Cloudy doubts
You darken all again, I shall run mad.

Atr.
I'le say no more; be witnesses ye Gods,
If never Joy come more under this Roof,
If it be any, any fault of mine.

Phi.
Sir, I will bear you witness the short while
My poor life last; which lies in Peneus's hands.
If he will still keep up this wall of doubt
'Tween joy and me; I'm at my Journeys end.
Resolve me, Peneus, will you let me dye?

Pen.
No: but I quickly shall, my feeble age
Can never climb up this high hill of joy,
But I shall faint before I reach the top;
Howe're I'le go as far as e're I can:
I'le send, for bring is too much joy for me
(Most excellent King) your Brother to your Arms.
But I go hence so surfeited with joy
I shall not live to see you any more.

Atr.
Oh! stay, thou richest blessing of our House;
The dear Philisthenes shall go alone.

Pen.
He is to his Father wonderfully dear;
But he is young, his Father may distrust
The weakness of his soft and easie youth.
My wary faithful age he will not doubt;
That I must go my self; farewell, good King.

Atr.
Farewell, thou pious, sacred, blest old man.
Farewell sweet Youth, henceforwards my dear Son.

Phi.
Sir, I wou'd call you,—cou'd I speak for Tears,
Father,—and giver of my best new life.

Atr.
My Dear Antigone shall know thy Love;
I'le tell such Stories of thee, thou shalt find
At thy return her Love exceeding thine.

Phi.
Peneus thy hand! I am so stun'd with joy,
I cannot see my way.

Atr.
My Chariot there!
And Guards attend 'em—Farewell to you both,
[Ex. Pen. Phi.
I think I've counterfeited rarely well.
He who wou'd rule so damn'd a World as this,
Where so many dissembling Villains dwell,
Must cheat the Devil, and out-dissemble Hell.

[Ex.