University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE the TEMPLE.
Enter Lycormas.
Lyc.
Oh, horrid Deed! what have my Eyes beheld?
Deceiv'd Eurydamas, and Villain Murrus!
Oh! I could tear my Flesh, and curse my Folly,
Thus to be ruin'd by a lustful Boy:
Capricious State of all Conspiracies!
Where build we e'er so wisely or so strong,
Founded on Reason, rais'd with utmost Caution;
Some unthought Accident, and least suspected,
Throws to the Ground the goodly rising Fabrick.
What's to be done? Can I approach the Tyrian,
And hope his Favour for a ravish'd Mistress?
Not this I promis'd, nor will he reward.
Enter Eurydamas unseen.
Shall it avail me to declare the Truth?
Will it not more inflame his Rage against me?
False both to him and her, a double Traitor.

Eur.
These Looks disorder'd, and uneasy Gestures,
Sufficiently declare his secret Anguish;
The Disappointment that now tears his Heart.

Lyc.
The more I think, the more I'm lost: Eurydamas!
How dearly thy too subtle Schemes shall cost us?

Eur.
Thy self I hope, not me; mistaken Priest!
But let me now resume the Hypocrite,
And stand aghast at Mischiefs I contriv'd.
[Shews himself.
I come not now, Lycormas, to relate
The bloody Deeds that in an Hour have past;
Suffice it, both Sides are with Loss retir'd;
But, as the Gloom of Night comes on, would warn thee
To hasten thy Departure to their Camp.

Lyc.
But tell me first, how fares our new Associate,
The late admitted, but well-trusted Murrus?

Eur.
How little does he think, he ne'er was trusted?
[Aside.
The Youth is dead; but wherefore these thy Titles?

Lyc.
Yet more, how fell he?

Eur.
—By the Tyrian's Arm.

Lyc.
Oh, Heav'n! how just, how righteous are thy Dooms!

Eur.
What mean thy Words? in what has Heav'n been just?

Lyc.
Alas! Eurydamas, we are undone!
Our Hopes all ruin'd by one Act of Murrus.
When, as abrupt with striding Hast he left
The Temple, flush'd and ruffled much he seem'd,
Which I misconstrued, from his well known Warmth,
The quick Resentment of a cold Reception:
But how was I deceiv'd? for as I walk'd,
Musing how best to her I might excuse
An honest Fraud, that tended but to save
A gallant Man, and give him to the Side
Of Carthage, in her future Wars a Heroe:
Thro' the long Isle came wafted to my Ear
A hollow Murmur, and imperfect Sound;
Which, drawing nearer, I perceiv'd were Groans,
Mingled with Plaints, and issuing from the Cell,
Which I had nam'd their fatal Place of meeting.

Eur.
Thy Tale's Beginning bodes disastrous End.

Lyc.
I entred softly; when, Oh piteous Sight!
With Hair dishevel'd, prostrate on the Pavement
Lay the sad Queen; I gently would have rais'd her,
When she with Looks, that spoke at once Disdain,
Despair and Anguish, Indignation, Shame,
And art thou come, Perfidious! to insult me?
And does thy sacred Robe conceal a Pander?
Pander to Rape, and horrid Violation!
'Tis well thou seest me destitute of Weapon;
Well for the Ravisher I was disarm'd;
But fly, be gone, and leave me to Despair:
Struck mute with Horror, I obey'd and left her.

Eur.
Dreadful, indeed, seems the Catastrophe
Of this thy Story, which I well perceive
Has made too deep Impression on thy Soul,
Nor is our State so desp'rate as thou think'st.

Lyc.
Explain thy self, expound the dark Enigma.

Eur.
These are not Hours for Pity and Remorse;
To make This safe, we must do greater Ills:
Now hear what I unfold, and know 'twas I
Put Murrus on the Deed, thou call'st our Ruin.

Lyc.
Impossible! certain, my Ears abuse me.

Eur.
Again I say, 'twas I; and these my Reasons.
When first I tamper'd with the haughty Youth,
Stern and averse to our Design I found him;
At length o'ercome by subtle Arguments,
Urg'd with Success, and tedious now to mention,
On one Condition he vouchsaf'd his Friendship:
And what was that, forsooth, but sole Dominion,
The Government entire without an Equal?
And this too by the Tyrian must be promis'd;
If not, he strait accus'd us to his Father:
Thus plung'd, I seem'd to yield; then wrought him up,
By Tales replete of jealous Circumstance,
To act a Crime I knew must be his Ruin.

Lyc.
How frail are all Confed'racies in Vice!
Where each at Heart has but his proper Good;
This granted, still the Priesthood had been mine.
[Aside.
Yet wherefore went he to the Field? when there,
Why did he not, like thee, keep free of Danger?

Eur.
The Question puzzles me:—yet now I have it.
[Aside.
The first was unavoidable, the last
Occasion'd by the stinging Taunts of Fabius;
Who loudly calling to keep Pace with him,
The fiery Youth sprung thoughtless on his Fate.
But to our Purpose; from dead Murrus' Lips
Comes no Discov'ry; and it will beseem
Thy Care, to see her Tongue may tell no Tales.

Lyc.
Shall she conceal th'Abettor of her Rape?
For such, besure, she thinks me.

Eur.
—See'st thou this?

(Offers him a Dagger.
Lyc.
'Tis Theron's Dagger.—

Eur.
—In the Field he dropt it;
Take, plunge it in her Heart, then cast it by her;
At his Proposal was she hither brought;
That Circumstance with this, as I'll improve it,
Shall make the Deed seem his; there's home Revenge:
This done, securely thou may'st greet the Tyrian;
To whom, whene'er I please, I can unriddle.

[Aside.
Lyc.
Oh! horrid, monstrous Villany! my Soul
Shrinks inward at the complicated Crimes:
But can'st thou think, I will commit this Murder?

Eur.
I leave it to thyself, I am untouch'd
In this Affair, she cannot me accuse.

Lyc.
By Hercules, she shall; have I been made
Thy Property, the Tool of thy Ambition?
Remorse and Vengeance both have seiz'd my Soul:
I will this Moment to the Governor,
To him declare the utmost that I know,
And by my Penitence deserve my Pardon.

Eur.
Thou canst not mean it?

Lyc.
—That thou shalt soon perceive.

Eur.
Curse on the puny Traitor, half-strain'd Villain!
[Aside.
Wilt thou, in Rashness, thus at once destroy
What we've with Care and immense Hazard brought
Just to a Crisis, and mature for Birth?

Lyc.
Thou talk'st to Stones; I am determin'd, see.

[Going.
Eur.
Yet let me stay thee.

(holding him.)
Lyc.
—'Tis in vain; what, Ho!—
My Brethren, Brethren, Murder!

Eur.
—Thou do'st well,
Thus to instruct me; take with thee that and that,—
(Stabs him.
This too were right.

(As he goes to stab himself, enter Priests, who seize and prevent him.
Lyc.
Secure the horrid Villain;
Secure him from himself; that Death's too light
For Crimes like his: Convey me to my Cell;
Fly Some with your best Speed, and find out Theron;
To him, if my Breath lasts, I will unfold
A Tale that shall inflame and freeze his Blood.

[Exit, carry'd by Priests.
SCENE changes to the Governor's Palace.
Enter Sicoris and Timandra.
Sic.
Vain our Endeavours, vain is all Defence,
'Tis Opposition to the Will of Heav'n;
The partial Fates have doom'd Saguntum's Walls,
And Hercules himself cannot protect
His City; down then level with the Earth,
Sink, noble Piles, so that in Fame you rise
More great by Fall, ennobled by your Ruin:
But, Oh, my Child! when I behold thy Tears,
The Liv'ry of thy softer Sex's Nature,
My Soul too softens, and I catch thy Fears.

Tim.
Alas! my Father, for myself alone
Flow not the first, nor do the latter chill
My Heart; while I behold you safe, I fear,
I tremble for my Brother; and whom more,
Forgive me Modesty, I love, for Fabius:
If Murrus fall, I should bewail his Fate;
If Fabius, I shall be his Murderer.

Sic.
Should Fate determine thus, yet were their Wounds
Glorious; in such a Cause well would they die;
Thus, had their Years been mine, would I have fall'n;
Nor, like a doddard Oak with sapless Arms
Expos'd to Winds, have waited the slow Ax.
Then dry thy Tears, and imitate thy Mother,
A Heroine, she still arm'd me for the Fight.

Tim.
But had my Mother by Love's pow'rful Ties
Won you to arm, and urg'd you to the Field;
What would have been (had she, what I have, seen)
Her Dread of Soul, and agonizing Fears?
But she's at Peace, and hapless I survive
To know the Loss of Lover, Father, Country.

Sic.
Prepare thy Breast then to sustain the Shock
For see! the Messenger of Fate approaches.
Enter Theron.
Thy Looks do more than speak;—my Son is dead.
Oh, pow'rful Nature! Manhood, by thy Leave:
While to his Shade I pay this small Oblation.

[Weeps.
Ther.
His Foes already have perform'd that Office,
And from their mangled Limbs wept purple Streams.
Sent to the gloomy Fields of Stygian Jove,
They grin, and flit before his dreaded Shade.

Tim.
And art thou fall'n, dear Youth? and am I left,
The last short Comfort of my Father's Age?
Poor, good old Man! how are thy pious Cares,
That form'd in Virtue's School two noble Sons,
To full Maturity of Worth and Honour,
Thus disappointed by the cruel War?
Who shall supply their Offices of Duty?
Who from the Foe guard thy defenceless Years?
There is but One;—perhaps, that One is not;
I dread, and yet must know: resolve me, Theron;
Speak, for thou know'st, that which I dare not ask.

Ther.
I understand thy Meaning; Fabius lives.

Tim.
Now Blessings on thy Tongue! but say, where is he?
Why comes he not?

Ther.
—Too soon he will be here,
A Sight of Horror to thy wounded Eyes;
Yet such was his Desire, that on thy Bosom
He might pour out his Soul, and sink to Rest.

Tim.
Cover me, Hills! ye Mountains, with your Groves,
Come, pitying, shadow me with sudden Night!
Oh! hide me from his Sight; deep at your Roots
Beneath the dusky Gloom o'erwhelm Timandra.
In the dark Caverns let me yell my Griefs,
Nor with my Shrieks disturb his parting Soul.

Sic.
I feel new Grief; another Son I mourn.

Ther.
Thy Son, indeed, I think; and sure he fought,
As if to Murrus he was more than Brother;
Nor was the Youth in Bravery behind him,
Or Race of Glory e'er more nobly run.

Tim.
Oh, pompous Circumstance of fatal Woe!

Sic.
Ah, happy Youths, how glorious are ye fall'n!

Ther.
As when two able Mowers ready stand
Both at the Ends of their appointed Furrows,
With Emulation fir'd, each lusty Swain
Advances on his Side; in Heaps the Corn
Falls from the sweeping Scythes, and spreads the Land.
So fell the Tyrians, so with equal Steps
Did they push on, and gain upon their Foes;
At length, with horrid Strides, Marmarick Othrys,
Of Size enormous, and Gigantick Limbs,
Stalk'd forth their Ranks, and with his thund'ring Arm
Fell'd on his Knees thy Son; the Monster stoop'd
To pierce his Breast, when with a noble Blow
The Roman sever'd from the Trunk his Head.

Sic.
It was a Godlike Deed, and well became
The brave Descendant of great Hercules.

Ther.
It now was Murrus' Turn; when fierce Acerras,
Leader of their unbridled Horse, came on,
And, wheeling round with oblique Force, at once
O'er-run the Roman with his furious Steed;
Full at the Courser's Temples Murrus threw
A whirling Lance, that pierc'd through either Ear;
Mad with the Pain, in Air aloft he rear'd,
Then, floundring back, crush'd with his Weight the Rider.

Sic.
It joys my Soul, to hear my Son repaid
The Debt of Honour.

Tim.
—But, alas! in vain.

Ther.
The Gods would have it so; their Fate was nigh,
For Hannibal, enrag'd, himself advanc'd
On Murrus, whom with his protended Spear
He struck to Earth, never again to rise.
This Fabius saw, and with indignant Rage
Cry'd, For Reward take this, curst Carthaginian;
With Might collected toss'd he then his Lance;
It flew, it reach'd his Thigh, and, quiv'ring there,
Drank deep the Blood; his Squadrons straight pour'd in,
When Fabius soon appear'd all o'er one Wound;
Curtius and I rush'd forward to his Rescue,
Which, obstinate to win, or die, we forc'd;
Then, whilst we made a slow retreating Fight,
Our Men bore from the Field the dying Hero.
Enter a Priest, and whispers Theron.
How! in the Temple stab'd? I follow thee.
[Exit Priest.
Enter Curtius, Fabius brought in by Soldiers.
But, lo! what of itself might drive me hence.

[Exit.
[Timandra runs towards Fabius, but stops short.
Tim.
Oh, Fabius! oh, my Love! oh Horror! Horror!
Oh, Gorgon Sight, that turns me to a Stone!
My Blood congeals, and ev'ry stiff'ning Joint
Loses its Sense, and ministerial Function;
Fix'd to the Earth, like Niobe, I stand
A Monument of Woe, a breathing Statue.

Fab.
Once more, Timandra, am I blest to see thee,
To take a sad Farewell, and breath my last.

Tim.
Oh, how shall I approach thee, Fabius! how,
Behold thy swimming Eyes that roll in Death!
Do not thy discontinuous Wounds reproach,
And keep at awful Distance, lost Timandra?
Else would I clasp thee bleeding as thou art,
And give a Loose to Love, and wild Despair.

Fab.
Lost be that Thought! thou wer't but Fate's kind Agent
To clear my Fame, and wake my nodding Virtue;
And Heav'n can witness, I alone in Death
Regret, that for thy Safety I'm no more.

Tim.
Forbear this Tenderness; oh, cease to be
Thus wondrous kind, thus exquisitely good!
Thy Generosity but more distracts me,
And sinks me lower with oppressive Grief.
Shall then my Safety be thy latest Care?
Oh, spare thee that Concern! 'tis needless all.
When thou art gone, Despair will soon point out
The Means of Safety, and a Place of Rest.

Fal.
Expect, I charge thee, Heav'n's appointed Time;
And sure, I think, thou hast not long to wait;
Then shall thy Soul unspotted reach the Plains,
Where the blest Shades enjoy their well-earn'd Bliss;
There on the Borders will I wait thy Coming,
And hail thee first from Charon's sluggish Boat;
Thence lead to secret Groves, where faithful Lovers
Meet their Reward in never-ending Joys.
Draw near, old Man, I would have call'd thee Father;
Yet, e'er I die, receive me as thy Son.
[To Sicoris.
Curtius, I go, now take me to thy Arms;
For mine, alas! cannot infold my Friend:
Remember well thy Promise, 'tis to live,
And, while the Fates permit, defend Timandra.
To you, oh Gods! that from my Country's Name
This foul Dishonour may be wash'd away,
Is Fabius's last Pray'r.

[Dies.
Tim.
Alas! he's gone!
His Heart forgets to beat, his Eyes to move,
While mine are dry with Grief and stupid Sorrow;
Burst, burst, my Heart! 'tis that alone can ease thee.

[Swoons, and is carry'd off.
Sic.
To her Apartment bear the mourning Maid.

Cur.
He had my Promise, Sicoris, which I'll keep:
For, but to guard thy Daughter, Curtius lives.

Sic.
Short then shall be thy Care, and Stay behind him;
For know, this Night, the People are determin'd,
Firing the Town, to lay themselves in Ashes;
To-morrow's rising Sun shall see the Tow'rs,
He us'd to gild, lie smoaking on the Ground.

Cur.
Amazing, but most glorious Resolution!

Sic.
Convey thou to the Temple thy dead Friend;
There I and Theron, with our chief Saguntines,
Beneath the sacred Roof design to fall.

Cur.
Take up the ill-star'd Hero; greatly now
Shall his illustrious Shade descend, while Fame rewards
His ev'ry noble Action, martial Toil:
And a whole City is his Fun'ral Pile.

[Exit with the Body.
Sic.
Now to my Child; yet oh! how shall I break
To such a tender Heart our dreadful Purpose?
But Fate, I hope, has arm'd her for the Blow.

As he goes out, enter a Priest to him.
Priest.
Theron requires thy Presence at the Temple,
And bids me say, Treason thy Sentence waits.

Sic.
How, Treason, say'st thou! sure that comes too late!
But my own Cares must to the publick yield.

[Exit with the Priest.
SCENE changes to the Forum.
Enter an Under-Priest and Saguntines.
Prie.
Hither I've call'd you to see Justice done;
He, who before abus'd your credulous Ears,
Would, on this Night, have giv'n you up to Ruin.

1st Sag.
Oh, Crime unparallel'd!

2d Sag.
—Oh, horrid Monster!

3d Sag.
We'll rend him Limb from Limb, and each Saguntine
In his torn Carcass glut their great Revenge.

Enter Curtius with the Body of Fabius.
Cur.
See there, Saguntines! see the Traitor Fabius,
Him, whom your mean Suspicions basely wrong'd:
Behold his num'rous Wounds, and then, perforce,
You must confess there was One noble Roman.

1st Sag.
Asham'd, we own his Worth, thine too we know.

2d Sag.
Oh, had thy Country lent us but her Aid!

3d Sag.
And sure we well deserv'd it at her Hands!

Cur.
Their brave Reproaches sting me to the Soul.

[Aside.
Enter from the Temple Sicoris with Eurydamas bound.
Sic.
Oh thou, for whom my Tongue can find no Name!
Say, what could move thee to such monstrous Crimes?
To wanton Villanies, luxuriant Evils!
Was not thy Country's Ruin ample Mischief?
But that with cursed Arts thou shouldst seduce
Thy near related Friend, train'd up in Virtue,
To perpetrate a Deed, must shock his Nature.

Eur.
For That, perhaps, I had a secret Reason;
But trouble me no more with idle Questions;
I'm in thy Pow'r, and I expect my Fate:
Yet there, at least, my Plots have answer'd well.

[pointing to the Body.
Cur.
Oh, execrable Villain! dost thou boast
A Plot too in his Death! Oh, set him free,
Saguntines! Sicoris, give him to my Sword.

Sic.
Suppress thy Rage; that were to make his Death
Noble, not ignominious as he merits.
Hence, drag him to the Tow'r o'erlooks the Gate,
Which his perfidious Hands should have unbarr'd;
There give th'appointed Signal, and when they,
Elate with Hope, and eager Expectation
Of well-concerted Fraud, and Tyrian Guile,
Approach our Walls, and think the City theirs,
Hurl him precipitated on their Heads;
Now let them learn Saguntum's steady Justice,
Her Patience, Fortitude, and unexampled Bravery,
Her more than human Constancy to Friends:
For us, my Countrymen, we may with Pride exult,
(The Partner of his Crime, tho' late, repenting,)
One single Traitor did these Walls contain,
And him our just Revenge has found; nor shall
His caitiff Dust, in the last glorious Scene,
Which, big with Horror, Fate now opens on us,
Mingling with ours, pollute the honest Heap.

Eur.
How I contemn the Death, to which I go!
Thy little Malice, and this wise Harangue!
A single Traitor, saidst thou! single Patriot!
Who would from Ruin have preserv'd his Country.
Farewel, ye virtuous Ideots! in Reward
Of all your Suff'rings, let the Romans say,
The faithful Fools deserv'd a better Fate.

[is carry'd off.
Sic.
To his own Home, now ev'ry one repair,
Take from his Family a last Embrace,
Invoke the Gods, then set it in a Blaze.

1 Sag.
We are prepar'd.

Omn.
—Oh, Governor, farewel.

[Exeunt Sag.
Sic.
Now, Hercules, look down, and own a People,
That, in their noble Deaths, have thee in View.

Enter Theron, leading Candace.
Exchange Forgiveness with me, injur'd Queen;
Fatal t'each other have our Houses prov'd:
Pity a Father, that's oblig'd to mourn
A Son's most horrid Action, not his Death:
What only Reparation I can offer,
Is Liberty; this Moment thou art free;
Without our Walls thou shalt be safe conducted.

Can.
My Soul disdains it: Shall the stain'd Candace
Bear Violation to her Friends, and o'er
Her warlike Maids reign their polluted Queen?
Forbid it, Modesty! forbid it, Jove,
My glorious Ancestor! That, too, forbids,
[pointing to the Body.
That dismal Spectacle: Oh, cruel Youth!
How wan! how cold! still wer't thou so to me:
This shall be kinder than its Master was,
And give me Peace. Now, gracious Ammon, take
Thy injur'd Daughter, and avenge her Wrongs.

[Snatches the Sword of Fabius, stabs herself, and falls.
Curt.
There fled her furious Soul.

Ther.
It was well aim'd,
Home to the Heart, a sure, and speeding Blow.

Sic.
Take up the Bodies, bear them to the Temple.

[They are carry'd off.
Enter an Attendant of Timandra.
Attend.
Ah! Sir, your Daughter, seiz'd by sudden Madness,
Broke from the Arms of her attending Virgins,
And rushing from the Palace, as she past,
From a Saguntine Hand, prepar'd for Ruin,
She snatch'd a flaming Torch, and hither bends.

Enter Timandra distracted, with a Torch in her Hand.
Tim.
Where, where's the Bridegroom? where is the dear Man?
Speak, thou his Friend, for I am come to claim him.
My Father here! O sacred Sir! your Blessing;
These are my Nuptials, This the Torch of Hymen.
The Temple open! then he waits me there.

Cur.
He does, indeed!—but dead.

Tim.
Why then I'll fire
The lofty Pile, and make it his vast Urn;
So gently creeping steal me to his Side,
And mount together in the glorious Flames.

[Exit running into the Temple.
Sic.
Alas! poor Girl! the Gods I think inspire,
In soft Compassion to thee, this kind Frenzy.
Now, Theron, let's embrace; thy Arm too, Roman;
[to Curt.
Once more: 'tis well; proceed we to the Temple.

Ther.
Yet hold!—what's This that starts and bounds within me?
That tears, and struggling thus dilates my Breast?
'Tis Inspiration! 'tis our glorious God!
That deigns this Honour to his dying Servant;
Who, with my Bosom, has enlarg'd my Mind,
And gives me now to see into hereafter:
And thus the Prospect stands;—Behold! Behold!
From these sad Ruins, flaming to the Skies,
A new Saguntum, Phœnix like, arise;
Her Sons, like us, shall Liberty maintain,
And in their Faith inviolate Remain:
But when as circling Years have roll'd their Round,
O'er various Realms shall Tyranny abound;
A mighty Nation then shall Heav'n ordain
To curb th'Oppressor, and to break his Chain;
A gen'rous People, that delight to save,
Pleas'd from the Tyrant to set free the Slave,
Polite as Romans, and as Romans brave.
Hail, glorious Warriours! wellcome to our Shore;
With Joy I hear your future Engines roar;
With these combin'd shall mighty Deeds be done,
I see Iberia's Empire soon o'errun:
But, ah! what Star malign would shew its Face?
Shall the same Fortune still attend our Race?
'Tis past: a sickning Cloud obscures the Rest,
And the relenting God forsakes my tortur'd Breast.

Sic.
Whate'er it be thy mystick Words imply,
If plung'd by Fate these sad Extremes we try,
And constant in our Leagues, and Liberty we die;
Saguntum's gen'rous Fires shall blaze with Fame,
And late Posterity record her Name.

Curtain falls.