University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

The Scene, the Palace.
Enter Xerxes attended, a Messenger offering him a Letter.
Xer.
Wait on me to morrow!
I'm not at leisure now for Business.

Mess.
To morrow, Sir, may be too late;
They're of importance, and concern
The Safety of your Royal Person.

Xer.
I tell thee, Slave, my Will's my Safety:
When Danger dares to face me,
I'll command it from my Person.

Mess.
But, Sir—

Xer.
No more! My Pleasures wait!
Enter Cleontes.
Now, my Cleontes; What News from Love?
How does Tamira bear her heavy Change of Fortune?

Cleo.
Oh! never, never did the weeping Eyes
Of Pity view a Scene so mournful. When first
We seiz'd, and forc'd her Husband from her Arms,
She wrung her Hands, and shriek'd, and tore her flowing Hair!
Beating her Breasts; and in her wild Despair
She broke through all the Guards, with an amazing Force,
And strain'd her Arms once more around him.
We strove to part him from her Hold; but she
Still clung, and clasp'd with such Convulsive Force,
That from her half-heal'd Wounds the starting Blood
Agen sprung forth—
And sprinkl'd those with Pity that oppos'd her.
Mov'd by that Sight, we stopt a while,
To let her take a short, a last Farewell.
Quite Breathless now, her Head upon his Bosom lean'd;
She wept, and spoke with dying Eyes
The tender Anguish of her Soul.
He press'd her close, and call'd, My Life!
She sigh'd and groan'd, and offer'd and Embrace;
But there, alas! her wasted Spirits sunk,
And left her on the Floor, expiring.

Xer.
Extravagance of Love!
If only to behold her parted from a Husband's Arms
Were such a mournful Sight,
Oh! what a Beauteous Ruin will her Sorrows make
When rifl'd of her dearer Honour!
She weeps and wails; with swoll'n Eyes looks up to Heav'n,
And chides the Neuter-Gods for their Neglect of Innocence!
But say! How have you dispos'd her Husband?

Cleo.
While she lay fainting on the Ground
We hurry'd him to Prison, then us'd all our Care
To bring her back to Life.

Xer.
Is she then recover'd?

Cleo.
To Life she is, but hardly to her Senses.
She speaks to none, nor minds another's Speech:
Pensive she sits, with folded Arms,
Fixing to th'Earth her Blood-shot Eyes, and looks
The piteous Image of true Mourning Misery.

Xer.
How are her Wounds?

Cleo.
By virtue of an Arabian Plant, she has
Already lost the Pain: They were at first
But slight; tho' smarting.

Xer.
Use all the Power of Art to chear her Spirits,
But keep her still within the Palace.
When you perceive she is inclin'd to talk,
Let me hear of her—

Mess.
I beg your Majesty—

Xer.
Agen this Plague! Whence are these Letters?

Mess.
From my Master, Sir, the Governor of your New-erected Fort.

Xer.
(Reads.)
Ha! He tells me here some Rebels are in Arms,
—That you are able to inform me farther!
Say! Who, what are they?

Mess.
Most of 'em are those the Grecians left unslaughter'd.

Xer.
In Arms!

Mess.
Yes, Sir, and in Order too: They have been
Long us'd to War: You taught 'em first the Trade,
And now they say, they'll set up for themselves.

Xer.
So blunt?

Mess.
They talk but little, Sir; they look their Thoughts,
And threaten in their Silence.

Xer.
Aranthes at the Head of 'em?

Mess.
I saw, and spoke with him.

Xer.
What said the Traytor?

Mess.
He bid me tell you, Sir, Unless the General
Were free to morrow, he'd himself find Hands
To force the Prison-Gates.

Xer.
So Resolute? What was their Number?

Mess.
When first I view'd 'em they appear'd
Not above Ten Thousand: But in Four Hours
I perceiv'd 'em doubl'd.

Xer.
Ha! It may be dangerous then too far
T'incense a gathering Power—It must be so!
Here, take the Royal Signet; haste, and stop
The Execution of Artabanus.
[Exit an Attendant.
(Aside.)
Nor is it Fear that makes me do it;
But, on my second Thoughts, it may advance
The glorious Project of my loose Desire:
(For she'll believe, when I protest it so,
That Love of her has made me pitiful.)
Beside, the News will call her Spirits home,
And make her fit so much the sooner for my Arms.
(To Mess.)
Post to thy Master, back: Bid him draw out
Those Forces under his Command, and meet the Rebels.

Mess.
The Rebels, Sir, are more than thrice his Number.

Xer.
No more! But let him do't, or die!

Mess.
I am gone, Sir. And if he takes my Counsel,
His few shall make their Number greater.

[Aside.
Xer.
I'll think no more, nor shock my Ease,
To entertain a Thought of Toilsome Arms!
But yet, I am not safe till these are quell'd—
Let Hood-wink'd Fortune use her Sensless Will!
Man sees in vain, and does in vain oppose her:
Fight, or neglect 'em, still my Fate's decree'd;
Nor is't in me to shun a future Ill,
Unless, with Pow'r to act, Heav'n gives me Will.
Yet thus to live in Doubt a Torment is!
Then Magick Art shall set my Mind at Peace:
I'll to the Magi's Cave, whose Charms shall prove
What Fate's design'd my Empire, and my Love.

[Exit.
The SCENE changes to the Magician's Cave.
Re-enter Xerxes alone.
Xer.
Come forth, ye Pow'rs on Futurity:
You, that with Pow'rful Charms unlock
The Cabinets of Heav'n, and steal from thence
The hidden Fates of Kings and Empires,
Haste from your gloomy Cell, and summon all
The Magi appear.
Your Art to wait a Monarch's Pleasure.

Mag.
Command us, and our Art obeys.

Xer.
Tell me what End my Empire is decreed,
If I by Foes, or Foes by me shall bleed.
Tell me what Pleasure Lin Love shall know;
If Love, or Force, shall make the Fair One bow.
Exert your Art, and prove what Spells can do.

Mag.
Prepare the Charm: The Charm must be
To Sophiel, who delights in Harmony.

1st Mag.
sings.
Sophiel! Old Sire of Early Fate,
Who seest before the Gods debate;
That know'st of yet Unbeing Things,
The Fates of Uncreated Kings,
Of Men, of Empires, and the Doom
Of Thousand Thousand Years to come:
1st Mag. Appear! 2d. Appear! 3d. Appear!

1st Mag.
Sophiel!
By the Moon's pale Beam,
That faintly glimmers o'er the Stygian Stream,
Appear, &c.

2d Mag.
Sophiel!
By the Ocean's Ebb and Flow,
Whose Hidden Cause we ne'er cou'd know,
Appear, &c.

3d Mag.
Sophiel!
By the Subterraneous Winds, that make
The trembling Earth and Centre shake,
Chorus.
Appear! Thrice! Thrice! invok'd, appear;
Whether in Air thy Form does stray,
Or under Earth by Charms is bound,
Swift! swift as Light'ning, dart away;
Or fierce as Thunder, tear the Ground.

Sophiel arises in the Form of an Old Man all in White, and speaks.
Soph.
Too curious Man! Why dost thou seek to know
Events, which, good or ill, fore-known, are Woe?
Th'All-seeing Pow'r, that made the Mortal, gave
Thee every thing a Mortal State should have.
Fore-Knowledge only is enjoy'd by Heav'n,
And, for his Peace of Mind to Man forbidden.
Wretched were Life, if he fore-knew his Doom;
Ev'n Joys fore-seen give pleasing Hope no Room,
And Griefs assur'd are felt before they come.
Yet loose the Charm, be wise! O send me back;
And what's decreed by Fate, with Patience take.

Mag.
Thou beg'st in vain to cross our Monarch's Will:
What he commands, Spirit, I charge thee Fell,
Speak, or I'll bind thee in an Everlasting Spell.

Soph.
O! spare me, and I speak; nor blame my Care:
I thought, in Kindness, I might say, Beware.
Know then, rash Man, thou'st lost the happy Hour
Which fav'ring Fate once gave within thy Pow'r.
While thus thou liv'st in Thoughtless Luxury,
Slighted of Friends, of Foes despis'd, thou'lt die;
In Madness only fam'd to late Posterity.
But thou in Love a stranger Fate shalt know;
The Fair One shall, but shall to Vertue bow,
With humble Love pursue, and thou shalt find
Thou art deceiv'd, Alas! in Woman-kind.

[He descends.
Xer.
Spirit, thou ly'st; I ne'er despis'd shall die:
I'll change my Death, to prove that Fate can lye.
Shou'd Fortune threaten what thy Words declare,
I'd free my Soul, to be reveng'd on her.
And for my Love, I will the Raptures know;
She shall to Love or Force, not Vertue, bow.
Vertue may please, and give dull Souls a Feast;
But Ravishment's a Joy for Gods to taste.

[Exit.
The SCENE changes to a private Room in the Palace.
Enter Cleontes and an Officer, and Servants setting out a Banquet.
Cleo.
Dispatch, dispatch! the King approaches.

Off.
I guess the meaning of this Preparation!
But is the Lady in a Condition, think you,
To be entertain'd?

Cleo.
Her Husband's Liberty and Pardon have re-call'd her Spirits.

Off.
Has she seen him then?

Cleo.
She has: I saw there first Meeting here, i'th' Palace.

Off.
Sure 'twas a joyful one.

Cleo.
It was, indeed! Joyful, even to a Face of Sorrow:
So movingly she wept her Griefs away,
'Twere hard to judge which seem'd the greater Pain,
The Terrour of his Death, or the distracting Joy
Of his Return to Life: For ev'n there she fainted.

Off.
Where is her Husband now?

Cleo.
After the Hurry of their Joy was over,
He beg'd her Leave to visit brave Mardonius;
She, loth to part, but more unwilling to deny,
Dismiss'd him on his Promise of a quick Return.
That Visit was the only thing cou'd part 'em,
And now the King's secure of Opportunity:
If in the Interim her Husband should return,
Your Orders are, to give him no Admittance.
See all the Anti-Chambers clear'd! Away! she's here!

[Exeunt.
Enter Tamira alone.
Tam.
How tedious are the absent Hours of Love!
Life's an unpleasing Dream when he's not with me;
'Tis worse! 'tis Death, and wishing to be born agen!
I am impatient of my State!—When! when, my Love!
Sure Time stands still, to fly the faster at our Meeting!
Our Hours in Love have Wings; in Absence, Crutches.
What can this Musick mean?—Address'd to me?
[Soft Musick
Good Heav'n! the King! and yet I read no Terrour
In his Looks!—Innocence should never know
Enter Xerxes, bowing at a distance.
The Guilt of Fear: I'm yet—
To thank him for my Husband's Life!
[To Xerxes.]
When bounteous Heav'n gives a surprizing Joy,
We bend our grateful Knees to thank the Gods:
[She kneels.
Kings are their Images: Such Thanks as Heav'n
Accepts, (the humble All that Man can pay,)
Receive, O sacred Prince, from me; who, like a God,
Have giv'n me Life restor'd, and more than Life,—my Husband!
Nor wou'd I have you think that any Power on Earth
But a resistless Love, cou'd e'er have forc'd
My honest Heart to brave my Prince's Anger!

Xer.
Ay! there, indeed, thou'st nam'd a Motive
That might excuse the foulest Crime,
And wash it fair as Innocence!
Unconquerable Love! Oh, who can brave his Power?
A Power! that braves the eldest Law of Nature:
Ev'n Self-defence is lost, where he exerts his Sway:
For, who'd not rather die in Proof of Love,
Than suffer Life, untasting of his Joys?
When Jove created Love!
He made a greater God than Jove!
Hadst thou design'd the Ruine of my Empire
At Love's Command, 'twere Treason not t'obey
From him alone our Hells or Heav'n we prove:
He bids the Damn'd despair!—the Happy, love!

Tam.
Defend me, Heav'n! Whither wou'd he drive!

[Aside.
Xer.
Riches, Ambition, Glory, Pride, may boast
Their several Charms to raise our Souls aloft;
Yet from the Height of all their towring Thoughts,
When on the eager Stretch to kiss the Skies,
Thus do we see 'em lur'd to Earth, like me,
And rest their weary'd Wings upon the Hand of Love!
[takes her Hand.
Why dost thou turn away? Is it such Pain
To be belov'd! to be ador'd!
[Kneels.
Can Penitence and humble Tears offend thee?
The Gods are not averse to those. We kneel
To Heav'n, and taste of Mercy!
O why! why! didst thou take an Angel's Form,
Without the Softness of an Angel's Mind?
Canst thou not pity me?

Tam.
Alas! it is not in my power:
Still as my Thoughts grow soft, my Husband steals 'em from me!
And he's so greedy of the Joy, he strips my Soul,
And leaves me cruel to the World beside.

Xer.
Be cruel still, yet will I still love on: I have
Consider'd all the vain Impossibles of Despair,
Yet have resolv'd to use no other Help but Love!
But such a Love! fed with so soft a Flame!
So fond of Misery! so impotent of Hope!
It must be inoffensive to the chastest Ears!

Tam.
Why do you hold me like a frighted Dove,
That trembles in your Hand, and murmurs for its Mate?
'Tis most Inhumane to be cruel 'cause you may.
'Tis true, I am your Slave, and in your Power.

Xer.
Behold, I throw it off! Be free: I scorn
All Power but humble Passion,
Which thus disrobes the Purple King,
And strips him to the starving Lover.
—But shall I, must I starve before so fair a Banquet?

Tam.
I have no Room
To entertain another Guest. You may
Disturb my Love; but never can be welcome to't.

Xer.
I'll bring with me a tender sighing Heart;
A Lover's Heart, that bleeds, that languishes,
And dies, to make me welcome.

Tam.
Give it to those that starve; on me 'tis lost;
I, in a faithful Husband, have Eternal Plenty.

Xer.
Husband's the grossest Food of Love;
The Ignorant and Vulgar have their Share of him:
The poor contented Drudge of idle Nature;
Cheated of Bliss, to be the Tool of Propagation.
But didst thou know the Joys a Lover brings,
Thus wouldst thou clasp me in thy willing Arms.
[Embracing her.
And, mad with wild Desire, confess
Thou hast been fed, but never knew'st to taste before.

Tam.
Strike! strike me deaf, ye Gods! O Violence!
To the Ears of Vertue!

Xer.
Vertue's the Bane of Bliss, and while it checks
The Husband's Love, Love leaves the Lover free.
The Miser Husband starves a generous Flame;
He thinks you lavish, when you most are kind;
And even fears to ask—
What with a Loose the happy Lover takes.
He's still impatient of unknown Delight;
Begs with unsated Longings to improve the Bliss;
And adds, by asking, to the Store of Love.
By Heav'n, she must be mine! my Soul's on fire!
And while I grasp her thus, she must dissolve, or burn!
She melts! she pants! her Conscious Eyes confess the Joy,
And sparkle from her Flames within!
The God of Love lays prostrate all her Charms,
And thus I seize her, yielding to my Arms.

[Eagerly embracing her.
Tam.
Tyrant! 'tis false I either melt, or burn:
Exerting thus the Strength of Innocence,
I dash thee from thy Lustful Hopes for ever!
[Breaking from him.
Stand off! approach me not! for if thou dost
By all the Wrongs of my undaunted Love,
These Hands, resolv'd with horrid Force,
Shall tear my guilty Eyes away, and pash
The reeking Balls upon the Ground before thee.

Xer.
Why then the Spirit ly'd
That said, I was deceiv'd in Woman-kind.
I knew my Hopes to conquer thee were vain:
I now despair, and that secures my Pleasure!
Women that yield to Love, or vile Reward,
Are Things below the Passion of a Monarch's Soul:
But she that can, like thee, be deaft to Power,
To conquering Love, yet bear the Rack for Love,
She is, indeed, a Banquet for the Gods!
I'll be their Taster now—
And serve up in Ravishment to them.
Hadst thou submitted to my eager Love,
Perhaps in Heat of Blood I had enjoy'd thee,
And after left thee like a common Thing,
Despis'd and hated for thy easie giving.

Tam.
O happy Thought! he teaches me to 'scape him!
Forgive me, Love, if now I seem the Thing
That Love should most abhor.

[Aside.
Xer.
Now, where's that Hand will hurt those Beauteous Eyes?
Srive not! nor think thy Cries can move! yet do!
[Seizing her Hands.
Resist me still! still Curse my hated Flame!
'Twil burn the fiercer when oppos'd:
Methinks thou art not cold, as I could wish.
By Heav'n, I'll grind thy sullen Hate to Love,
And glut my Vengeance with abhorr'd Possession.

Tam.
And why Abhorr'd?
[Smiling.
Can there be Horror in so sweet a Pleasure?
Can Force be needful to the yielding Fair?
I find, you think me, what I seem'd, all Ice!
Ah! little! little do you know of Womankind!
Our Lives! Our Thoughts! Our very Souls are Love.
Our Tears are Softness, and our Coyness Fear;
Our Frowns Affected, and our Smiles decoying;
Our Hearts are Tender, and our Tongues belye 'em;
Our Wishes secret, and our Eyes betray 'em:
We must be Cruel, e're we can be kind;
And use Resistance to be more Desir'd:
But when our Cruelty has done its Part,
And kindly prov'd how Ill the Wretch can bear,
Then! Then! Our Joy's secure—A look can cure Dispair!

Looks wantonly on him.
Xer.
Amazement!

Tam.
You thought perhaps, because I bore the Rack,
That I could only bear an Husbands Love?
Alas! I suffer'd that in spite to you,
Not love to him: For you were then my Foe!
My Interest Brib'd me there to suffer:
My stollen Pleasures now are all secure,
The Rack has fix'd my Reputation fair,
It now shines out with such a glaring Light,
It blinds the Eyes of Jealousy.
By Heav'n I know, were you unkind, or base,
And should divulge the Joys, I now resolve to give,
(So fair my Honour stands) it wou'd not be believ'd.

Xer.
Nay, then the Spirit did not lye: For I
Confess, I'm now deceiv'd in Womankind.

Tam.
And why deceiv'd?
Cou'd you believe these Eyes, the Stars of Love
Were fixt? Not Planets wandring round the World
To search and tast of sweet Variety?
A Husband's Love! perish the stupid Wretch,
Whose Heart once fir'd, seeks not to burn for ever,
And has an Husbands Fuel to Maintain the Flame?
I ne're could find it so: For me! I own?
An Hundred Eager Lovers have supply'd his room,
Youth's form'd to melt, and Charm a Womans Heart,
While he abroad has fought his Country's Dause,
I've still been raising Love Recruits at home.

Xer.
By all my Hopes a Strumpet!

Tam.
But all the Conquests, that my Eyes have won,
Are Poor and Low, Compar'd to you: To make
The Monarch of the World Dispair, and Weep!
Is something sure beyond the Power of Love:
It Prides my Soul, to think my Frowns have force,
And charms me now, to dress my Heart in Smiles.

Xer.
Thy Frowns were Smiles to me: Thy Smiles are common:
A Monarch cannot Feed, on what has pall'd his Slaves.

Tam.
You seem uneasy, Sir, permit me touch your Hand,
To tast your Kisses! Now you're grown so cold.

Xer.
Gods! That a Strumpet cou'd appear so Chast!
Why did I form such Monstrous hopes, to tast
A Woman's Virtue—'Tis Notion all!
Lewdness and Life, are what they take together:

Tam.
And why! Is that a Name to Fright you?
Why did you woo, unless to win my Love?
How cou'd I yield, unless I turn'd a wanton?

Xer.
But thou'rt so Foul, I loath thee:
With looser Beauties to delight my Blood;
Such as will sell their Honour for a Price,
I'm hourly serv'd, and pall'd! 'Tis Vulgar! No!
My Hope was here—
To tast thy Beauty, and thy Virtue too:
But know, that Royal Appetite's above
The Handled Offals of a Common Love;
Thy Virtue Tainted, thou hast lost thy Charms;
I now condemn thee to thy Husband's Arms:
But since thy Lust my Furious Love has tam'd,
As a Reward, take all my Guards inflam'd:
Or if they fail to slake thy loose desire,
So I am free, set all the World on fire.
[Exit Xer.

Tam.
Gods! can it be? Is then the Face of Vice,
So loathsome ev'n to the Vicious?
Triumph you Guardian Powers of Virtue!
And let your Case of Innocence this Day,
To your Eternal Glory be Recorded;
For this Escape shall tell the World a Tale,
To make your Precepts more ador'd, than ever.
The looser Beauties now shall blush to hear,
In what disgrace their lewd Embraces are.
A Tyrant Lustful, and Debauch'd with Power;
In search of Bliss, and Humble Passion wore,
Conceal'd his Lust, his slighted Crown threw by,
And only hop'd from Loves Authority:
But when he found his subtlest Art was Vain,
Unveil'd his Soul, and shew'd the Brute again.
The Trembling Nymph Inspir'd, for succor flies
To loose Desire, safe in that foul Disguise,
She Palls his Flame, he starts, and dooms her Back
To all, that Life can give, or happy Lovers take.

[Exit. At another Door.