University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene I.

Enter Timoleon, and Pollidamus.
Timol.
Throw down your hissing Bolts, ye angry Powers,
Upon my Head, since 'tis your dreadful Will,
Let fall at once, and dash me to the Earth;
For these dire Plagues, these starts of Indignation,
Are more insufferable—

Pollid.
Perfidious Tyrant!
Tyrant's a Name too mild for such Barbarity,
There should be one in Hell new form'd on purpose;
Curse on my credulous and easy Folly!
Are these the Fruits of all his flattering Smiles?
Only to gain a hellish Opportunity
For more and greater Mischiefs, Robbery, Murder?
Oh, horrid! horrid!

Timol.
Murder—Damnation seize him!
That has been ever known his darling Sin,
His dear Twin-Brother, still incorporated
In his curst Infancy, some Woolf was slain,
From whom his bloody Nurse took the warm Gore,
To smear her Breasts, and make him suck in Cruelty,
With his first Nourishment: Must not then, ye Gods,
Blood be for Blood repaid? Oh, Justice! Justice!

Pollid.
The dreadful Insolence too of frighting Ladies,
Wounding and bruizing Children, butchering Servants,
Then basely plundering all, is past Example.

Timol.
Why Lucifer has drawn him to the Lees
Of Wickedness; the Fiend runs low in Villainy:
From the first rank of Crimes, Murder, Oppression,
Rapes, Incest, and unnumber'd Sacrileges,
He now descends in curst Variety,
To the poor, base, Mechanick Vice of Stealing!
The Ruffian's Trade to satisfy his Riot,
When Want has made him desperate.

Enter Gomond.
Pollid.
Now, good Gomond,
What's farther done? The worst we know already.

Gomon.
A little to allay that worst then, hear
Something of Comfort.

Timol.
The Word sounds as strange
As if it were Arabick.—Well, proceed; what Comfort?
Is my Wife past her Fears and laid in Peace;
Or my poor Boy, my sweet young tender Blossom,
Pluckt up by some rude Gripe?—Oh! execrable Dog!
These are his Comforts.

Gomon.
No, brave Soldier,
Fate has not been so cruel, your Wife and Son
Are safe, tho' yet in some Disorder, being retir'd
To Bacchus Temple, with the rest o'th' Ladies,
T'avoid Imprisonment, threatned by the Tyrant;
Whose Guards have made such an unmanly Havock
'Mongst all that did resist, Story can't parallel.

Pollid.
The helpless Women, stript of their very Ornaments,
Carriages robb'd, and all their hoarded Treasure,
Sav'd up for many Years, 'tis said, amounting
T' a Mass of Wealth—

Gomon.
All which that Devil Damocles
Stood by to see dispos'd to the King's Use;
Besides the common Plunder given the Soldiers
For their good Service.

Timol.
Oh, Devil! Devil! these are his Comforts.

Gomon.
No, great Timoleon,
These now shall feast your Ear; this matchless Villainy
Have the Ætolians so possest with Horror,
Rage and Revenge, that throughout all the Country;
Nay, through the utmost Bounds of wide Achaia
They flock in Shoals to Arms, each Hour brings Numbers;
So that with those good Troops already rais'd,
Which are to watch the Sign from Prince Demetrius,
Within the Walls; we shall, e'er Morn, be ready
To form a powerful Siege.

Pollid.
The News was Yesterday,
The Prince to be proscrib'd at three Days end,
Unless he find out Grimoald.

Gomon.
'Tis most true, the Riddle of himself to be that Traytor,
Being yet unknown, tho' it must make Demetrius
Extremely active to divert his Fate;
Which under Covert of a Search for Grimoald,
Still furthers our Affairs.

Pollid.
The new Ætolian Governour's revolted too,
And has to Day dispatch'd a Letter to him,
T'encourage and assist all Enterprizes.

Gomon.
My Lord, I saw it; every thing besides,
Methinks, looks well and lucky, and to lead us
To certain Victory, dear General,
We only want you there.

Timol.
Me! Saidst thou me?
In such a Cause can any one be wanting
That has a Soul, and the least Grain of Honour,
Much less Timoleon? Oh! Gomond, thou hast nam'd
A Word indeed so powerful, that Revenge,
Revenge, with its Associate Victory;
That were I dead, and shrouded up to lie
In mouldring Dissolution, a Clod inanimate,
Like Heavens first Fiat, wou'd anew create me;
Dart thro' the porous Marble where I lay,
Like bright Ætherial Lightning force its way,
And faster raise new Life, than could the old decay.

Pollid.
That was spoke like Timoleon.

Timol.
Time, that giv'st Hero's space for mighty Actions,
And hast, I hope, assign'd me these last Minutes
To crown my Days with Glory; shake my Sands,
Oh! shake 'em slowly, that I may have leisure
To finish this great Deed; then willingly
I fall thy Victim, full of Years and Honour.

Gomon.
Ten thousand Soldiers fight in your Resolves, Sir,
'Mongst which we've some of the old hardy Kind,
That trod your former Marches; Sun-burnt Faces,
With valiant Hearts, and sinewy Arms to follow ye;
That when their still lov'd General gave the Word,
Tho' Fate it self stood to oppose, would conquer.

Timol.
Let us go on; Charge, charge then, I am ready;
Within my Banner, by some curious Hand,
The Figure of Clorona shall be painted,
Dress'd in her Virgin white, an Angel Innocence
Gracing her Look; and in her snowy Bosom
A bloody Dagger, stuck by a black Fury,
Grizly and baleful, representing Damocles,
Wave in the Air to animate our Friends.
Then sound the Trumpet, and begin the Sport.
'Tis done, 'tis done, methinks I see the Action;
The Walls are mounted, and the Breach is made:
Oh! fix me there, thou martial Deity,
That lov'st a Soldier; and this Aristander,
Once more within my reach, if then I lose him
May I be lost with Infamy; not Jove's Bolts,
Nor crooked Fulgor, with its darling Flames,
Should guard him from me; Heaven nor Earth should save him;
Not all the Powers Hell sent him for Supply,
Nor all the Thunder bursting from the Sky.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Temple of Bacchus .
Enter Demetrius with a Letter, and Zizimo.
Demet.
Abandon'd as I am, proscrib'd, disgrac'd,
Yet do's this Letter from the Ætolian Governor,
In the Name of them, and all the banish'd Elliens,
Give me some Hopes, tho' with extremest Danger.
Danger! what's Danger, in a Case like mine?
Nothing,—a Word,—no more.

Zizimo.
The Siege is laid, Sir, think on that to comfort ye.

Demet.
He writes me word they're ready for the Attack,
Bids me prepare too, my Friends within here, against five in th'Morning,
To kill all those that guard the Castle Postern,
Where they will entrance wait to seize the Tyrant.

Zizimo.
And rout the Guards.

Demet.
By Heavens! 'tis nobly plotted,
And will, I hope too, be as well perform'd.
Away to your Post then, and remember Silence;
Silence, good Captain.

Zizimo.
Doubt me not, my Lord.

[Exit Zizimo.
Demet.
Oh! thou then, who within this sacred Place
Receiv'st the Prayers of Votary's distrest,
Propitious be, and grant us thy Assistance;
That Corinth may again retrieve her Peace,
And the Traytor, Grimoald, be found her Prince.
But hold,—I fear my Feet intrude too rashly;
This Corner of the sacred Dome is hallow'd,
Where the Illustrious Bones of Kings and Peers,
For many Ages past, mouldring in Rest,
Possess their gloomy Habitations.
'Twas here, ah! some where here, the dear Remains
Of my sweet Virgin Love were rudely cast
By Villains Hands; guide me, some pitying Angel,
To the dear Receptacle, that I may with Reverence,
The truest Reverence, sprung from faithful Love,
Invoke my Angel's Aid for her Demetrius.
Ghost of Clorona ascends.
Oh, ye Immortals, have ye heard me then!
Am I on Earth, may I believe my Eyes?
Oh! take not from me, thou Cælestial Figure,
My Soul, that flutters between Fear and Joy,
'Till thou hast blest me with thy lov'd Commands.
Behold the Creature of thy Will, thy Lover
Charm'd to an Ecstasy at thy blest Sight,
And crawling on the Verge of Life to hear thee.

[In his Ecstasy drops the Letter.
Ghost.
Go on, oh Prince, favour'd of Heaven, go on;
Let no Doubt shake thee, nor chill Fear molest;
Thou art selected for the Restauration
Of the Corinthian Liberty.—Tyranny shall wane,
And cruel Aristander shall be no more.
From flow'ry Groves, where Sol's eternal Rays,
With Light perpetual, gilds the Nights and Days:
Where Heaven gives boundless Joys to recompense
Those Virgin Souls that die with Innocence.
I come to tell thee, Prince, th'Almighty Doom
Ordains thy Rise, and the curst Tyrant's Fall
In lowest Diss; where Lucifer in Chains
Shackles the damn'd, that rage and yell in Horror!
Where frozen Isicles dart through the Bowels
Of gnashing Fiends, or Fire alternate melts
The scalding Marrow, is a dreadful Cavern
Replete with Serpents Newts, and odious Vermin:
The spotted Toad here spits his yellow Venom
Against the poys'nous Aspick.—Horrid Spectres
Skimming about with piercing Shrieks and Groans,
Sound o'er the baleful Place.—This dire Abode,
By Fate, is fix'd the Cell of Aristander:
Thus cruel Pride, is by the Gods rewarded.
This gives the curst Blasphemer too a Mirror
Where he may view himself; on then, my Demetrius,
Prepare to strike the Blow, revenge, and prosper:
The Powers Divine assur'd Success will grant,
And wrong'd Clorona prove thy Guardian Saint.

[Descends.
Demet.
And guarded so, who can fail to conquer?
Thou heavenly Messenger, that from the Depth
Of low Despair, hast lifted me to Paradise,
Doubt not but I'll go on; the light foot Roe
Stretches not faster o'er the spacious Lawn
Than I, to meet this joyful Opportunity.
My eager Speed, fledg'd with the Wings of Joy,
As swift shall Post as Time it self can fly.

[Exit.
Enter Amidea Reading.
Amid.
Sacred Devotion, that dost cleanse the Mind
From the vile Dross of worldly Vanity,
Clear our short-sighted Reason, and inspire
The clouded Scene with thy Cælestial Fire,
How excellent to me are all thy Graces?
And, ah! how sweet is innate Satisfaction?
Blest Souls above seraphick Joys may find,
But nought below compares with Peace of Mind.
What's here! Takes up the Letter.
A Letter subscrib'd to Prince Demetrius!
How my Heart pants! this may be worth perusing;
Bu I'll retire and read it, for yonder, 'mongst the
Priestesses, I see my Sister coming, and Heaven help 'em,
The hapless Belizaria; and the rest,
Fled here for Sanctuary. Oh! Aristander,
I wish thou hadst my Heart.

[Exit.
Enter from the inner part of the Temple Belizaria, Clindor, Helmige, and other Ladies, with the Priestesses of Bacchus in their Ornaments, Gilmunda appearing with her Masques on the other side; the chief Priestess coming forward, speaks.
Ch. P.
Ye Gods of Greece, and above all, great Bacchus,
To whom, for many hundred rowling Years,
Our sacred Rites and mystick Ceremonies
Have been address'd, protect, and be propitious
To these thy Suppliants; punish too the impious,
Who dare prophane thy Altar; shower quick Vengeance
Upon their Heads, thy Votary implores thee.

Helm.
The holy Maid blushes with glowing Anger,
The Agitations of her troubled Soul
Blaze in her Eyes and Visage.

Beliz.
Oh! can'st thou blame her?
Seest thou not yonder, where the Royal Insolent
Appears, in Mockery of the solemn Mysteries?

Helm.
Yes, and behold it with confus'd Amazement.
Heavens! Can that Figure of a perfect Angel,
That beauteous Form, whose personal Divinity
Has Charm enough to force Cælestial Favour,
Be yet so black within, to incline, Fiend-like,
To horrid Profanation? It confounds me!
See, she moves this way, and will speak t'ye, Madam.

Beliz.
I am prepar'd.

Gilm.
Is it then possible my Eyes can grant me
So rare a Sight as this? Great Belizaria,
Cry'd up for Patroness of Virtue, Wisdom;
By the Crowd nick-nam'd too, the fam'd Grecian Heroine,
Seeking a Shelter here for base Rebellion,
Amongst a Rout of Enthusiastick Bigots?
Can that great Soul, then, condescend so low
To seek for any Aid but from it self?
This is most wonderful, since I know, Madam,
Do what you please, your Deeds are glorious all,
And wise, as ye held Counsel with the Gods,
And fashion'd their Decrees.

Beliz.
No, not so wise;
Virtue's a thing, indeed, of such plain, simple Nature,
'Tis suited by kind Heaven for all Capacities,
And consequently mine; but sacred Wisdom
Is a much richer Grace, a Gift peculiar;
Which as but few possess, so few deserve.

Gilm.
Oh! you deserve it, without all Dispute;
The Gods, when they contriv'd so rare a Cabinet,
Could not do less than give the richest Jewel
T'enclose therein.

Beliz.
One Jewel, I confess,
There is enclos'd, of an uncommon Value;
Which is, Contempt of vicious Dignity.
I can despise a mighty Man in Office,
Whose Life and Inclinations are deprav'd,
Or acts unjustly.—And if I see a Lady,
Nay, tho' as great as you, out-face her Modesty,
And from the Rules of Virgin Decency
Rove up to Libertine Extravagance,
My Soul can from its little Eminence
Look down, nay and contemn her.

Gilm.
You can, great Heroine?
And from my Eminence of State, and Power too,
I can look down upon your proud Humility;
For there's an Insolence sometimes in Rags
As blameful as in Robes of Gold and Purple.
I've often seen a surly Beggar snarl
Because he thought the Alms was giv'n too mean
For his Desert, tho' in extremest Misery.
This boasted Virtue truly is a Pride
Fashion'd and gilded by Hypocrisy,
Which equals even the worst of vain Extravagance.
I revel and enjoy the World, am great,
Plac'd high, and thus, perhaps, indulge my Flatterers
You're humble, set your Face, give Alms, and pray,
Dissemble—All to gain publick Applause.
What Difference then betwixt my Pride and yours?

Beliz.
The Difference is in th'Actions plain Sincerity:
My Ends are sacred, and the Good I do
Aims not to be rewarded here below,
But in a Place where Pity's remember'd.

Gilm.
And do ye never fear to miss your Aim,
And after your Pains-taking lose your Labour?

Beliz.
Oh! no, the Records are for ever fixt,
Set down by an eternal Register,
Where can be no Neglect.

Gilm.
If the rank Hypocrite,
Who kindles publick Feuds for private Ends;
Or th'stubborn factious Kindler of Rebellion
May live unpunish'd there, and hope Reward,
You may be certain of uncommon Share.

Beliz.
Rather for Loyalty and Love of Honour;
For unless doing Justice deserve Punishment,
I have no Pang of Conscience.

Gilm.
Not ev'n for Treason?
That petty Vice lies sunk in your deep Wisdom.
Here's a rare Proof of Honour, Virtue, Conscience;
A precious Guide for our Corinthian Dames;
[In heat.
Or is your Matronship grown mad o'th' sudden,
Should Rebels have no Punishment?

Beliz.
Rebels, Madam!
The Word do's need such a nice Explanation
'Tis hard to be defin'd; and you, alas,
[Raising her Voice.
That use 'em most by Rote, without true Judgment,
Had better change it for a modish one,
Relating to your Head-dress, or your Body:
Study new Phrases that run glib at Court,
Where Flatt'ry still do's eccho ye, tho' Nonsense:
Where the vile, supple, cringing Parasite
May take 'em like his Gold, all without weighing;
And let no thought of the Rebels strain your Fancy:
But if you needs will descant on the Word,
To do it right, know, Madam, 'twas invented
When Royal Villainy first plagu'd Mankind.
Were there no Tyrants, there had ne'er been Rebels.

Gilm.
Oh! can your Pride mount now o'er your Sincerity?
[Loudly to her.
Calm Virtue, cross'd, I see, can turn to Thunder;
My Breast is all on Fire, by awful Juno,
Her Soul o'er-tops me so, I flag and faulter.
[Fretting about.
And have no Power of answering.—But see my Father,
He'll do me Right I'm sure.

Enter Aristander, Damocles, and Guards.
Arist.
What! are we then besieg'd?

(To Damocles.
Damo.
Yes, Sir, in Jest;
Three or four Thousand hot brain'd Ideots,
Led by Pollidamus and craz'd Timoleon,
Bloated with their long Ease and Idleness,
Are got before the Walls. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Arist.
I'll send my Guards anon to whip 'em home;
Their hoary Ring-leaders too shall upon Mules,
Their Faces to their Tails, ride thro' the City,
To divert those within.—
Now, my Gilmunda, what antick Forms are these?
[Pointing to the Priestesses.
What's all this Pageantry?
Hah! I gave Order that [Seeing Beliz. and the rest.
those saucy Women should be
Imprison'd, how comes this Neglect?

Damo.
In the great Hurry, Sir, they 'scap'd the Guards,
And fled for Shelter hither.

Gilm.
These here, the Priestesses,
The impertinent Teazers of our Rosie Deity,
Are going to entertain ye with their Ceremonies.
Please your Majesty to sit a while you'll be diverted.

Arist.

It shall be so, I'll borrow so much time from the
Besiegers.

Gilm.
How, Sir, besieg'd, is't then so hot?

Arist.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.—Come, let us see these Ceremonies.

Here follows the Entertainment of Singing and Dancing, which done, enter Cilon hastily.
Arist.
Extremely pleasant: Oh, the crack-brain'd Anticks,
What Whimsies craze their Brains?—How now, what bring'st thou?

Cilon.

Sir, your Majesty, if you're at Leisure, shall hear a
pretty Business. Hee, hee, hee, hee; the Besiegers, it seems,
are now about ten thousand; hee, hee, hee. The new Ætolian
Governor, I hear, heads 'em, and joins with old Timoleon,
hee, hee, hee, hee. Fools, Rogues.

Arist.
Confusion seize him! he makes Head against me.
He, by my Bounty rais'd. Come hither, Damocles.

[Whisper.
Gilm.
If my Eyes guide me right, I think I see
My Sister yonder, in that part o'th' Temple,
Alone and musing, a Paper in her Hand too:
Now we're besieg'd—perhaps 'tis some Intelligence;
I'm resolv'd to know,—it may do Service.

[Exit.
Arist.
Ten thousand wilful Villains are too many,
[To Damocles.
And tho' I fear 'em not, 'tis good Policy
To be secure: Hire then some trusty Agent,
With promise of a Bounty large and gracious,
In a Disguise to steal out of the Town
At the dead of Night, and post to King Craterus,
Our Ally and Neighbour; write our Case,
And require Succours.

Damo.
Sir, it shall be done,
And Goddess Fortune, if thou'lt be ador'd,
Retrieve thy Scandal, be no more inconstant.

[Exit.
Arist.
Enquire you for Demetrius, let him be watch'd,
[To Cilon.
His dated time comes on; and take those Tatlers
[To Officer.
And stow 'em up in Prison, for their great Heroes
That are besieging us, thence to relieve 'em.

Beliz.
Death is a Hero, whose Relief is sure;
He's ours, and we will thank him with a Smile.
Actions, like this, blest Innocence can do,
When thou shalt start, and tremble at his View.

Artist.
Furies and Hell! away with that curst Adder,
She stings thus far off. How now? what new Frenzy?
What would your Ceremonial Holiness?

[Chief Priestess approaches Aristander.
Chief P.
By sacred Bacchus, mystick Cybele,
Apollo, Delia, the August Divinities,
Each Morn ador'd within this holy Temple,
I do conjure you cease this Cruelty,
And give these pious Votaries their Freedom.

Arist.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, what said the Antick?

[Fleering.
Chief P.
Be cautious, Aristander, how with Deeds,
Impious like these, thou dost offend the Deities;
Free 'em, in the Name of all the Gods, I charge thee.

Arist.
Hence, preaching Ideot, or I'll spurn thee from me;
Away, I say. [Ladies carry'd off.
Now, by my sacred self,
Not all the Gods, did they stand by, should free 'em.

Chief P.
Then take the Curse which I by them pronounce,
Thy Ruin, impious Prince, is near at hand,
Thy Crown and Empire lost.

Arist.
Witch! impudent Traytress!
[Drags her by the Hair.
I'll spoil your prophesying; drag 'em hence,
And give 'em each an hundred Blows with Staves;
Then let 'em try agen to be prophetick.
[Guards beat the Priestesses.
The Fury lurks within 'em will be rouz'd,
Inveteracy its high flown Rage extend,
Curst Female Mischief adding to the Fiend.

[Exit.
Re-enter Gilmunda with the Letter, and Amidea.
Gilm.
And did you find it here?

Amid.
Here in the Temple,
[Amidea weeping.
Open as now, subscrib'd too to Demetrius;
But oh! consider, when I had perus'd
The curst Contents, how then I was surpriz'd!

Gilm.
Surpriz'd! she talks as if some petty News had reach'd us,
Whilst I, convulsive, tremble at the Terrors
Are here enclos'd.—A Plot to kill the King,
And let in the Besiegers to destroy
The Guards, my self, and all of us; Oh horrid!
And you to find this,—that wants Confirmation;
You have been thought, long since, to favour th'Elliens,
And own this suppos'd Prince, and now, perhaps,
Some Fret of your Despair makes you betray him.

Amid.
Oh! wrest not impiously my loyal Meaning
Such an unnatural way; reluctant Conscience
Infus'd into my Soul a Father's Danger;
And the strange Means, Heaven sent me to prevent it.
Thus a strict Bond of Duty principally,
As well as to preserve the rest of the Court,
Divulg'd the Secret, else you ne'er had known it.

Gilm.
Rather a Fit of Enthusiastick Zeal
Has forc'd it from ye; you would fain be sainted,
And this you think will do't, else why was I
To be an Ignorant; was a Sister's Safety
So slightly to be valu'd?

Amid.
Honour and Conscience
Engaging me an equal Friend to both,
Produc'd the great Discovery; else such a Sister,
Who calls the Good we do, the Acts of Phrenzy;
And when her certain Ruin is contriv'd,
Says her Reliever do's it from Despair,
Little deserves the Grace of such a Secret
That must destroy a Lover.

Gilm.
Destroy a Lover!

Amid.
That, amongst the rest;
Secrets are Trifles in such times of Danger;
Yes, I avow, forgive me, Modesty,
If at this Juncture I transgress thy Laws,
And blushing, own Demetrius for my Lover;
Whose Life not all the Wealth of Earth or Sea,
The Sweets of Empire, or the Rage of Power,
Should have compell'd me thus to have expos'd
But th'Safety of a Father.

Gilm.
Double Traytor!
And since I find him so, my Rage is doubled;
Which shall, e'er Morn, have ample Satisfaction:
My Father's twine of Life so slightly hangs,
That even methinks grim Atropos is ready;
I'll haste, then and prevent her, and in stead
Make her an Offering of his Enemy;
For now Love to rankest Hate is grown,
Much, for my Father's sake, but more my own.

[Exit.
Amid.
Oh wretched Maid! how dreadful is thy Case,
When thou art even oblig'd to curse thy Piety?
[Weeps.
Nor could it be a blest, but some ill Genius
That working his dire Ends, prophan'd the Temple,
And led me to the Secret. What have I done?
Why sav'd a Father's Life, and sure that's good?
What else? Why then I have to do this Good,
Murder'd the Man I lov'd!—Oh Horror! Horror!
Can all the Joys that bless my filial Piety
O'ercome the Woes my Soul must bear for this?
Ah, no! Love has a nearer Tie than Nature,
And pulls the Heart Strings stronger.—Yet 'twas my Father!
To see the Author of my Life extended
Upon the Floor! a Dagger in his Heart,
Which I consented to!—Impious and hateful!
A Sin unpardonable!—But then, Demetrius!
Whose graceful Charms first caus'd my Virgin Heart
To have a Sense of Love; who, by his Influence,
Forming the Atoms that lay all confus'd
And wild, first made me know I had a Soul
To be, by my Discovery, dragg'd to Ruin;
The Rack, the Sword, Impaling, or the Gaunches
Tearing his Limbs to pieces! And I, oh killing Terror!
The fatal Cause of all! [Weeping.
Assist, ye Gods,
Keep firm my Brain, and prop my staggering Reason;
Let Amidea now be worth your Care,
For nothing else can save me from Despair.

[Exit.