 | Pyrrhus King of Epirus |  |
ACT IV.
Enter Pyrrhus and Dion.[Thunder and Lightning.
Pyrrh.
The Day is fled, and dismal Night descends,
Casting her Sable Arms around the World,
And folding all within her deadly Grasp,
Ghosts are abroad, the Monuments are emptied,
And Heroes, that have slept till now, have left
Their quiet Tombs, and once more walk the Earth.
Dion.
All this is Strange, yet all is as it ought to be.
Methinks, when two such Rival Armies meet,
As Macedons, and ours, the high Concern
Of Heav'n should be no less: methinks the Clouds
Should melt and rain down Blood, and Gods should mourn
In all the Pomp of Grief, their slaughter'd Sons.
Pyrrh.
And yet, my General, all this rack of Heaven,
Those burning Orbs, and the loud Peals of Thunder,
Those starting Stars, and yonder falling Meteors,
Are Common things to us, the usual huddle
Of Jarring Elements: but how, my General,
How do the Souldiers bear them?
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They rear themselves from Earth
Streight as the Spears, and brave as you can wish;
All put their Gauntlets on, and grasp their Armour,
All Eager for the Onset.
Pyrrh.
There's Life in this.
Go, and prepare them for the Noble grapple,
And I will March them on.
[Exit Dion.
Ye Gods? I pay Just Reverence to your Altars;
I bow with awfull Worship to Your shrines,
And more submission than my slaves show me,
But when some Infant Power, some puny Deity,
Some Ape of Jove, that's fond of making mischief,
Asserts your Empire, and your Rule of heav'n,
And with weak hands tosses your fires about,
Forgive me, if I cannot stoop to Fear,
But, spite of Prodigies, pursue the War.
The Ghost of Alexander the Great Rises before him all in Armour.
[Thunder and Lightning.
Ghost.
Well does this Noble Confidence become you,
And Oh! it glads the Soul of the dead Alexander,
To see you thus, behold you thus unmov'd,
Even when the Powers above are at a loss
Which way to turn themselves.
Pyrrh.
Ha! Alexander,
Thou should'st be He, and yet how Chang'd, how alter'd
From what thou wert alive? Oh! for what Cause
Hast thou forsook the Mansions where thy Spirit
Had room to extend it self, and rove at large,
While we walk here, Encomber'd with a Body,
That holds our Souls from mounting to the Skyes,
And barrs all converse with our Kindred Gods?
Ghost.
My Love and Care for thee, the bravest Prince,
I Left to share my Conquests on this Earth,
Has drawn me hither, to impart the News
Of warm Debates betwixt the Courts above,
And those beneath, the Realms of Jove and Fate,
To tell thee, tho thou yet draw'st vital Air,
Canst from thy Tent behold the Marshal'd Squadrons,
And lead the Warlike Phalanx to the Field,
Must shortly leave all this, and be at last,
Just such as I am.
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I see you full of fate, your Eyes confess it,
Yet I Conjure you to deliver all,
For I Dare here the Utmost, Speak, Oh! Speak,
Tell me what means this anger of the heav'ns,
Why did the Eve descend so dismal dark?
Why not one Star, to glimmer through the Skyes?
Why falls those Clouds so thick? why sits the Night,
So heavy on the brows of bended Mountains?
Ghost.
I lookt within the Records of the Fates,
Where the appointed Lives, and Deaths of Heroes,
Are written down by an Unerring hand.
I turn'd to yours, and found it full of Glory:
Still as I search't the farther, every Page,
Still pointed to New Conquests, here was Mark'd
Your Victory over Rome, and here again
Another follow'd, still the Voluminous Leaves
Contain'd no mention, but of your Success:
Here Sicily is subdu'd, here Greece is Conquer'd,
Here Argos Storm'd and Won, but after that,
The fatal History ended most abruptly.
Here Pyrrhus Dyes.
Pyrrh.
What time or date prefix'd.
Ghost.
No Certain one was Fix'd, as I could learn,
But at a Council lately held beneath,
Although the grand Result was hid from me,
One of the Sisters, that had more of honour,
More resolute Fate, and a more settled fury,
In the stern looks, than any of the Rest,
Was heard to Cry, where Daring Pyrrhus' spies
A Bull and Wolf, in Combat there he dies,
Pyrrh.
How shall I shun the Omen! rather say,
How Can I meet it? Beasts distinct in Nature.
A Bull, and Wolfe, how they should Come to Fight,
That never Herd together? perfect Riddles,
Which Fate that makes them only Can unfold.
I'le wait till that Explains them.
Ghost.
Let them unravel their own webb themselves,
Which they Spin out into as many tangles,
As Gordius ty'd his Knot. Cut, cut them through,
The Sword alone can do it. Dare all that is possible,
And may be Heaven may yield, and Fate be aw'd.
Pyrrh.
Vain is the talk of Destiny and Fate,
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I'll fall their Envy, if they Doom my fall,
Heav'n shall receive me, You shall point me out,
Faint with my Wounds, and sporting as I pass,
The Milkey way all Red with streaks of Blood,
To Demi-gods that stand around, and tell them,
This was a worthy Successor of Alexander,
Worthy the Son of Ammon.
Ghost.
O! Only like my self, I swear I will,
I'll meet you on the Utmost verge of heav'n,
Reaching a hand to lift you to the Skies,
And plant you next my Father and my Self,
Pyrrh.
Sound all the Trumpets there, to Arms, to Arms,
Mix your loud Clangors, with those peals from heav'n,
Beat the big Drum, speak Every Voice of War,
I long methinks to mingle with the Gods.
Ghost.
It is now past midnight, and I dare not stay,
The meagre Troops of Ghosts are all Returning,
And wait me to conduct their wandring steps;
Go to the Battel, Doubt not your Success,
You cannot be overcome, who cannot fear:
If you survive, you Reign a Monarch still,
And if you fall, it's but to mount a God.
[Ghost sinks.
Pyrrh.
Am I a Coward? sure I do not fear,
And yet I feel what I ne'er felt before,
If this be fear, Death, and the worst of Ills,
And Easier to be born. Hence from my heart.
Intruder, hence; go choose some other Soul,
Where you may Tyrannize without controul,
Of mine you cannot, shall not stand possest,
Yet you may boast, that once you touch'd my breast.
Enter Æmylius. Dion.
Æmil.
I Come to ask that Convoy from Your Majesty,
Which usually is given to attend on such
As are Employ'd on Embassies.
Pyrrh.
Welcome most Noble Roman to my Arms,
More welcom if you'd stay.
Æmyl.
I dare not Sir.
Pyrrh.
I hope you have thought on it better.
Æmyl.
Sir I have not.
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Pyrrh.
Then you refuse my Friendship.
Æmyl.
No I beg it,
As I would beg Blessing from the Gods,
If I could make you first the friend of Rome,
Then you might make me yours; till then in Vain
Are all the Royal Offers that you made
To heap Preferments on me in your Court,
To give me the Command of all your Armies,
The Gallantest indeed, I e'er beheld,
Excepting Rome's. I heard you with the Attention
Due to a King, but did no more than hear;
It went not to my Soul, in vain you sent
Those Presents of Inestimable Value,
That yet remain untouch'd. I am but Poor,
I have no Wealth, and yet I would have none,
I would not be a Traytor to be Rich,
Or infamously great. My only treasure
Lies in my truth; and if that once were lost,
What has Æmylius left, to make him worthy
To be a Son of Rome, or Friend of Pyrrhus?
Pyrrh.
This matchless faith makes me but prize you more,
Since your fidelity to Rome is such,
Who acts as if she knew not how to value it
What would it be to me, who know the worth
Of Constancy like thine?
Æmyl.
Suspect me rather
If once I forfeited my faith to Rome,
When any new Occasion should present,
I might be false to you. I love you, Sir,
As I love all brave men, and you of all
The very bravest; I have seen you fight,
Where other Gallant Cheifs have stood at distance,
As if there Business were to look on you;
And they had no employment in the Field.
I have seen you break the battle of the Romans,
And pierce resistless through those Marshal'd ranks,
Where never any Enter'd, till your self;
Success still hung upon your Conqu'ring Sword,
And Fate descended with it, where it fell.
I have envy'd, and admir'd you, both at once,
And as my Eyes still followed you in Fight,
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I have often wish'd my self Epiran born,
But oftner you a Roman.
Blush not to hear these Praises from a mouth,
That wou'd not give them if they were not due,
For Flattery is a thing as base as Treason.
Dion.
Go on, most noble Roman, all is truth,
And, by the Gods, I thank you that you speak it.
He would not suffer me to praise him thus.
Æm.
'Twas there, my Lord, there in the Bloody Field,
Your Godlike Prowess won an Enemies Soul,
That Treasures cannot tempt, nor Power betray,
But open'd to receive the love of Vertue,
And give it full Possession, I tell you nothing,
But what I'have dared to tell the Roman Senate,
As they have sate assembled in the Capitol.
I beg you, Royal Sir, to seek no more:
Be satisfi'd, I have a Just Esteem,
For such transcendent worth as dwells in you.
Oh! seek not to Corrupt a poor old Man:
My Honesty is all the Wealth I have,
But that's my own, not subject to the Chance
That waits on other Fortunes; that alone
I can Call Mine; that lies within my Power.
Should all the Princes of the Earth conspire,
I may, and will, preserve my Faith intire.
Pyrrh.
Say, have I many Enemies like you?
Æm.
If all the World, Dread Sir, were such as I am,
You would not have an Enemy; if you mean,
Whether the numerous Sons of Rome are such,
They are, my Lord, braver by far than me,
And all I hope as faithful.
Pyrrh.
Then their Conquest
Will be an Enterprize beyond my Powers,
Impossible for humane Arms to Atchieve.
Æm.
Believe me, it will be no bloodless Victory,
When ever it is obtained.
Pyrrh.
Though it seems dangerous
To Arm a foe, so terrible as you,
Yet I' have a Present to bestow upon you,
Which you may take without a Breach of Faith:
Receive this Sword, it has been u'sd to Conquer,
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In Roman hands.
Æm.
I take it on my Knees,
As given by the dreadful God of War:
Fear not, its Vertues shall be kept Entire,
Unless it grows ungrateful to its Lord,
And turns against the Godlike Prince that gave it,
Where every Sword must fail.
Pyrrh.
Prepare a Convoy,
To wait the good Æmylius to the Confines.
See all the great Battalions rang'd in Order,
To Shout his farewel, as he passes by.
Once more, my gallant Warriour, to my Soul,
Where thy Idea deeply is impress'd,
Farewel with all the Friendship and Esteem,
That mutually should dwell in Noble Minds,
Thou wondrous Man, of wondrous Faith, farewell.
Æm.
Yet ere I go, hear me, Illustrious Prince,
I give my thanks to you, my Prayers to Heaven,
That you may still be prosperous your royal Carriage;
Has wrought this Just resentment in my Soul:
Still may you Triumph, your Success be Ever
Such as your matchless Worth may justly Claim,
Distant your end of Life, no end of Fame:
May you Reign long, for numerous Years to come,
And your Arms flourish against all but Rome.
[Exit.
Enter Lanassa.
Lan.
Oh! my lov'd Lord, Lanassa was afraid
You'd have been hurri'd to the dreadful Battle,
Without the giving her one last Farewell.
She heard the Trumpets call you, thought you listn'd
To them alone, and no soft gentle Whisper
Of Love could reach your Soul. She saw your Ranks
Of Souldiers, glittering in their gilded Arms,
Spite of the horrid Darkness, so she hastned
Ere yet you march'd them to the Walls of Argos,
Once more to gaze upon you, once more see you,
Print on your Lips one last dear Kiss at parting,
And if I then can speak it, bid Farewell.
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Leave but your Fears behind, and then, my Love,
We may despise whatever Fate can do;
And bear our parting brave, as Princes should,
With all the Greatness of Heroick Minds;
Yet tenderly withall.
Lan.
Alas, my Pyrrhus,
Deny me not the Privilege of my Sex;
Women, that always start and shrink at Dangers;
Women, whose Courage is not less than Mens,
Only their Love is more: My Lord, I come not
To beg you to defer the dreadful Battle;
For, though a Thousand ominous Signs forewarn me,
The sudden Doom of Pyrrhus now is fix'd;
Yet his Resolves are firmer fix'd than Fates:
I only come to offer up my Prayers
In thy lov'd Presence, though I fear the Gods
Will be as deaf to them as you have been.
Pyrrh.
Such were your Fears this Morning, Love; and now,
How vain and needless do they seem to have been?
Unhurt, unwounded from the Field I came,
And bought a Conquest at an easie Rate;
Now I shall only march against a Foe
Already half o'ercome.
Lan.
Supposing then
Argos were yours, the Crown upon your Head,
And you upon the Throne: Suppose the War
Were finish'd as I wish, which I dare scarce
Suppose it will be; will your toils end there?
Or, what will next be done?
Pyrrh.
The Romans yet
Remain Unconquer'd, they again shall try
My Forces in Arms, and my Victorious Squadrons,
Fighting with better Fortune than at first,
May hurl their soaring Eagles to the Earth.
Lan.
If Rome were won, and that triumphant City,
That never yet obey'd a foreign Lord,
Submitted to your Sway, their Senate broke,
And you their Royal Master in their stead;
Where march you then?
Pyrrh.
Sicily is at hand,
And I may pour my Armies on their Coasts,
Destroying all the Isle with Sword, and Fire
Hotter than that of Ætna.
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Suppose that Sicily
Shar'd the same Fate with Rome.
Pyrrh.
Then Sun-burnt Africk
Shall groan beneath the weight of Castl'd Elephants,
And its own Brood be turn'd against it self.
Lan.
Granting that you had Conquer'd Africk too,
What Enterprize is next?
Pyrrh.
The search of Glory and of Fame is endless;
New Countries will afford new Conquests still.
Lan.
If all were won, all the wide World were yours,
What Fruit, my Pyrrhus, would you reap from all?
Pyrrh.
When War is to be had no more, my Love,
We will sit down upon the conquer'd Globe,
Enjoy our selves in Peace, and laugh at Fate.
Lan.
And why, my Lord, why can't we do so now?
Cannot one Kingdom furnish full Enjoyment?
What has the World in store? what Pomp, what Pleasures?
What can the lavish hands of Nature give,
That Epirus has not yielded to her Lord?
But oh! my Love, Kings are like other Misers,
Greedy of more; they use not what they have
As Merchants, venturing on the faithless Seas
For needless Wealth, are driv'n by sudden Storms
On Banks of Sands, or dash'd against the Rocks,
And all they have is sunk, and lost at once.
Kings rush to Wars, more faithless than the Seas,
Where more inconstant Fortune waits their Arms;
Where in a Minute one unhappy Blow
Ruins the Progress of an Age before:
Delay not your Enjoyment, till you've all;
O! do it, while you've any, while you may;
While yet the gath'ring Storm wants wings to reach you.
Pyrrh.
Did you Plead thus in any other Cause,
You could not be deny'd; but rigid Honour
Has arm'd my Heart against the grant of this.
Retire, my Love; for loe, the Night grows darker,
The Voice of Heav'n more loud, and the big Winds
More forcibly have shook the nodding Tents;
The drouzy Souldier, waken'd by the Tempest,
Starts from the Earth, and crys, away to Battle:
Retire, my lov'd Lanassa.
Lan.
Oh! my Lord,
When shall we meet again?
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Heav'n knows, my Love;
But I too know that we shall meet in Heav'n,
Where everlasting Joys shall Crown our Loves,
And never more be sunder'd.
Lan.
Oh! were that true, wretch that I am to doubt it;
For sure there is a Place reserv'd for thee;
A Throne prepar'd for Pyrrhus, my Love, my Lord:
The noblest Demi-god of all the Skies,
And foremost Heroe in the Host of Heav'n.
Pyrrh.
No more: one last Embrace, and now no more,
For the Adieus of Lovers never end:
I wish that we were gone our several ways,
And yet I cannot be the first to go.
Lan.
Then how should I, a weak fond helpless Woman!
Oh! Stay, my Lord; since we must part at last,
Say but farewell, for your Lanassa cannot.
Pyrrh.
Farewell, with all the force of Love, farewell.
Lan.
Oh! Pyrrhus! Pyrrhus! whither go you now,
To the dire War? where partial Death resides;
Death, that was ever wont to lop the Noble
And spare the Vulgar; Oh! turn back a little;
Stay till I fall thus prostrate to the Earth,
Torn by my Passion, till I beg the Gods
In thy behalf: Oh! save him all ye Powers;
Make him the whole Concern of all your Skies;
Oh! let this humble Adoration move,
Be good, ye gracious Gods, and save my Love.
Preserve him Heav'n from all the Rage of War,
Divert the threatning Point of every Spear,
Shield him some God, and let no shaft come near.
| Pyrrhus King of Epirus | |