University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Scene changes to the Tents of Achilles.
Enter Achilles and Patroclus.
Pat.
Forgive their Ignorance—

Ach.
Their Ignorance was Cowardice, Patroclus.
I'll hear no more.
The faithful Dog, flies at the Robbers throat
That would break in, to force his Master's treasure;
But Dogs are watchful Servants, true to trust,
Men are the first to prey upon their Lords,
In danger they forsake us, shifting still
From side to side, as they can mend their bargains:
Are these, are these those daring Myrmidons
That threaten Hector with their valiant boasts,
And could they stand Spectators of my wrongs?
With Arms a-cross, behold my rifled Tent,
Nor with drawn Swords, and lifted Spears rush in
To kill the Ravishers—

Pat.
What could such a handful—

Ach.
They should have dy'd, if not enough to Conquer,
Each standing in his Rank, with Shield to Shield,
Have made a Wall, and barr'd the Passage up.
Briseis, O Briseis! art thou lost,
And do I live? And art thou ravish'd from me,
And art thou unreveng'd? O had'st thou dy'd!
Had we been sunder'd by the common Course
Of Mortal things, Necessity and Fate
Th'inevitable doom of will-ful Gods,
Had made these Griefs less painful—Had'st thou been false
And left me—Then I had hated—
For Falshood is a Cure for strongest Passions,
Contempt succeeds, and to Contempt, Aversion:
But thou wert true, our Loves were in the Spring,
And yet we part: A humane Pow'r divides us,
A Man less worthy than my self has forc'd thee,
And I must tamely bear it.

Pat.
The Gods are sparing even to those they love,
And stint their Bounties to the Best of Men:
A Man and never cross'd, would be a God.

Ach.
They should have form'd my Nature then to bear,
They should have made me a tame patient Fool,
If they had meant to exercise my Patience:
But they have cast me in a fiery Mould,
Of wrong Impatient, furious for Revenge.
Why should they tempt us, where our Virtue fails?
Why do they give us frailties, yet expect
That we should act, as free from any Weakness?
If Nature must resist to all attacks,
Why is not Nature fortify'd alike
In every part? Why are we fram'd so brittle,
If we must never break? O had they try'd my Courage
Had Jove commanded more than Juno bid
The strong Alcides, he had found me proof:
But Patience is the Virtue of an Ass
That trots beneath his burthen and is quiet:
A Man's above it, and I scorn my Load
Which I'll shake off, or perish.

Pat.
Oh Love! Thou bane of the most generous Souls!
Thou doubtful Pleasure! And thou certain Pain!
What Magick's thine, that melts the hardest Hearts?
That fools the wisest Minds? What Art is this
That on so long Experience of all Ages,
So known, so try'd a Traytor should be trusted.

Ach.
Now by th'Immortal Gods, this Rape has pleas'd her;
She willing went, delighted with the Change:
Oh! She could never from her heart forgive
My Rage at Sack'd Lyrnessus; when mounting up
The mighty Wall, thrô Darts, and Stones, and Spears,
I fill'd the Streets with slaughter of her Friends:
Her seven Brothers, at her feet lay dead,
She only scap'd, her wondrous Beauty sav'd her,
And in the midst of Fury, made me tame.
Sleep, sleep ye Ghosts, lie quiet in your Graves,
Briseis has reveng'd your bloody Deaths,
Oh! She has thrust a Dagger in my Heart,
I feel the pois'ned Point, Here, here it sticks;
It tears, and burns, and I shall sleep no more.

Pat.
Suppose her false: And count this mighty Loss,
A Woman! and a Woman you've enjoy'd!
Compose your self, nor let the Great Achilles
Be thus disturb'd about a Trifle.

Ach.
And art thou False, Briseis; art thou false?
Was then thy tenderness thrô Fear, not Love?
And didst thou, like a Serpent, twine about me
Only to sting? And does this Parting please?
O how she clasps Atrides in her Arms!
So she hugg'd me, and with her darting Kisses
Met me half way, as now she meets his Lips.
How close she clings! and how with rapture melts!
Achilles is forgot—Or if remember'd,
'Tis but to curse me for her slaughter'd Brothers.

Pat.
If she is false, she is not worth this care:
If she is true, her Virtue will secure her.

Ach.
No—She is true—By all the Gods she loves me:
Her Vows were just, her Tenderness sincere;
There could be no Deceit in such embraces.
The Joys she felt, were mighty as my own,
I saw it in her Eyes, that dy'd away,
I felt it in her Arms, that claspt me close,
And in the eagerness of every Kiss,
Love could not be dissembled in those Moments.
But what's her Love, her Virtue, or her Truth?
The Ravisher has caught her, she must yield:
O how that Image stings! Now, now he drags her!
His Lustful Arm, strong twisted in her Hair,
In his right hand, with his drawn Sword he threatens;
See! She resists—And with her tender Nails
She tears his Cheeks, and struggles out of breath;
On Heaven she calls, on her Achilles calls,
Help, Help, she crys, I can resist no longer,
The Ravisher's too strong, and Innocence
Too weak for Lust—Help, Help, Achilles, help.
Arm, Arm, Patroclus, let our Squadrons move,
Draw every Sword to save my Ravish'd Love;
Nor leave the slaughter, till the Tyrant lies
Struck to the Ground, and cut to pieces dies.

[Exit Achill
Pat.
Love is a Phrensy that the Gods have sent
To punish Sins; for surest Vengeance meant:
To Love, is to be doom'd in Life to feel
What after Death, the tortur'd meet in Hell:
The Vulture, dipping in Prometheus side
His bloody beak, with his torn Liver dy'd.
Is Love—The Stone that labours up the Hill
Mocking the Labourer's toil, returning still:
Is Love—Those streams where Tantalus is curst
To sit, and never drink with endless thirst,
Those loaden Boughs, that with their burthen bend
To court his taste, and yet escape his hand;
All this is Love: That to dissembled Joys
Invites vain Men, with real griefs destroys.

(Exit Patroclus.
The Scene Changes to Agamemnon's Pavillion.
Enter Agamemnon attended. Nestor, Ulysses. Talthybius, whispering the King.
Ag.
'Tis well Talthybius,—be it your care
To see all fitting Honours paid; we would
Seem Just, not Terrible: And thô our Heart
Be shut to any other Love, Respect
Is every Woman's due—Nestor King of Pyle
What says the Holy Man.

(Exit Talthybius.
Nes.
He'll not be mov'd.

Ag.
But did you press him with your utmost art,
With all that force of Famous Eloquence
As I have heard you when the Squadrons fly
Stop Armies in a Rout; make Cowards turn
And run on certain Death.

Nes.
All that was fit, I said.

Ag.
And did you tell him of my wondrous Love,
How much I grieve, but at this name of parting:
That I'd to Argos send her Crown'd my Queen,
That she should Reign in Clytemnestra's stead,
That I would give him all the Wealth of Greece,
Empty my Coffers, ransack Kingdoms for him—

Nes.
aside.)
Half the price might purchase the whole Sex.

Ag.
And did you Weep, my Nestor, could you Weep
For fad Atrides? Down thy Reverend Cheeks
Flow'd the round drops? Did you add Tears to Words?

Nes.
I wept indeed—
aside.)
For a new Hellen born.
That brings more woes to Greece.

Ag.
Inhuman Priest! Why have the Gods such Servants?
The Gods are Merciful—But Priests are Bloody,
Peevish, Hard-Hearted, Positive and Proud;
Curst obstinate Old Man!
(A-part to Ulysses.)
A word Ulysses—Saw you Chruseis?

Uly.
I did as you commanded; and inform'd her
Of this hard decree—I would I had not.

Ag.
Thou art a Judge of Tenderness, Ulysses,
The Fair Penelope, whom thou hast left,
Oft gives thee waking thoughts—Oh! If to part
Thô but to meet again, be such a pain,
What is't to part for ever?
How bore she the surprising Sentence?

Uly.
At first she wept; and as we see the Sun
Shine thrô a shower, so lookt her beauteous Eyes
Casting forth Light and Tears together.

Ag.
You told it not as a thing fixt and certain.

Uly.
Not wholly fixt, but scarce to be avoided.
To Tears succeeded Rage, like claps of Thunder,
And then a Calm—I left her in a Swoon.

Ag.
Oh my torn Heart!

Enter Chruseis.
Chru.
And must we part? Atrides must we part?
And do you say it? Has your Tongue pronounc'd
The Sentence of my Death? Have you consented?
Oh Agamemnon! All my Fears were true,
My hopes were false, built on your faithless Vows;
'Tis scarce an hour, since with your Lips to mine,
Pressing my Body in your eager Arms,
You Swore, and call'd down every God to witness
That nothing ever should divide our Loves,
And the next News is, that we part for ever.

Ag.
What will the Fates do with me!

Chru.
The Greeks, the Greeks will have it; Chalchas has dreamt,
Nestor has made a Speech, Achilles Frownd,
And Mighty Agamemnon must obey!
Has then this Leader of the World in Arms
No will, no reason of his own? Must he
Who Governs all, by every one be Govern'd?
Had Paris thus, Paris, who was no King,
No General, of no Authority,
Had he for a few threats, resign'd his Hellen,
Troy had been free'd from danger: Priam wept,
Cassander Prophesied, and Hector rag'd:
The People cry'd aloud to give her back,
The furious Greeks with Fire and Sword demand her.
Burn, burn, said he, Proud City, Illium fall,
Father, Brothers, Country, perish all,
But still be Hellen mine; My Love be mine.
Has Paris then, more Love than Agamemnon,
More Courage, to look danger in the Face,
Or I less Charms, to make my Lover bold?

Agamemnon stands silent seeming in great distraction of Thought, and looking sometimes steadfastly upon her.
Nest.
Were Agamemnon but a private Man
So might he love; and to a Woman's arms
Resign all other care: Thô that be Weakness.
But for a King, who has the charge of Nations,
Entrusted with the glory of his People,
Of many Kings, confederates in his quarrel,
The Vengeance of the Gods—

Chru.
Why should the Gods be angry at our Loves?
I leave no Husband, no Pollution bring,
I am no Hellen.

Uly.
The Gods are absolute; whate'er they will
Must be obey'd? Nor ought we ask the Cause.
See how he stands distracted with his Thoughts,
This way, and that way, moving in his mind;
Oh! Let him take the Path that honour leads,
And veil those Eyes, that break his heart with doubts.

Chru.
My Glory is offended at his doubts,
Nor shall the Man who had my leave to love
Forsake me till I please. Try all your Arts,
Plot, Plot, Ulysses, and thou, Nestor, tempt him
With all the strength of pow'rful Eloquence,
Join Greeks and Heaven; Ambition, Piety,
Like Gods tugging at the Chain of Jove,
I will oppose my Eyes, and bring him back.

Ag.
Oh Chruseis!

Uly.
Had Iphigenia been thus obstinate,
Our Fleet at Aulis might have anchor'd still.
But she came forth a Victim to the Gods
And chearfully obey'd their cruel call:
Th'assembly wept; She only, she, look'd glad,
And offer'd to the Knife her willing Throat
To save her Father—Can a Mistress be
Less kind and tender than a Daughter?

Chru.
O that the Gods commanded but my death,
How gladly would I die! To Die and Part
Is a less Evil—But to Part and Live
There, there's the Torment—Change, ye Gods, my doom;
Take, take my Life t'attone your bloody wrath;
Come lead me to the Altar, let me bleed;
Is there a single drop within these Veins,
Is there a Limb, that I would leave unmangled,
To give my dearest Agamemnon Joy.

[Agamemnon takes her in his Arms.
Ag.
Live, Live, Chruseis—Live Immortal—Thus
And thus Embrac'd, and be of Life as sure
As it is sure that we will never part.

Nest.
apart to Ulysses.
This Hellen in our Camp
Is worse then her at Troy—O why have Women Beauty,
But as the Syrens Voice? To ruine
All they meet.

Uly.
to Nestor.
Let 'em alone to please themselves a while,
I have a Plot, shall sunder 'em, when most
They think themselves secure.

Chru.
My dear Atrides, may I trust your Love?
Tell me, my King, whilst thus around thy Neck
I throw my Arms, and press thee to my Bosom,
Will you forsake me?

Ag.
Empire and Victory, be all forsaken,
All but Chruseis—Yes, ye partial Powers!
To Plagues add Poverty, Disgrace, and Shame;
Strip me of all my Dignities and Crowns,
Not one of all your Curses will be felt
Whilst I can keep this Blessing. Take, Oh! take
Your Scepters back, and give 'em to my Foes;
Give me but Life, and Love, and my Chruseis,
'Tis all I ask of Heaven.

Nest.
Think of your Oath, Atrides, how you swore—

Chru.
Yes, he has sworn; Be witness Heaven and Earth,
Be witness Sun and Moon, and every Star,
Be witness all ye Gods, that he has sworn:
Is there an hour, either of Night or Day
Free from some Oath, of Everlasting Love:
Think, think on that Atrides.

Ag.
Since perjur'd either way, I'l chuse the best;
Be broke all Oaths, but what I made to thee.

Nest.
Then farewell Troy—'Tis better sailing back
Than stay consuming here with Plagues.

Ag.
And so we will; to Night we will Embark:
Draw-in your Anchors, hoise-up every Sail:
What is this Town, that I should lose one Hour
Of smiling Love to win it? O Chruseis!
Thy tender truth, has mov'd my Soul so much,
I will be deaf, to every call but thine.
Be it your care, Ulysses, to dispose
Our Troops to march.

Uly.
I'll carry no such orders.
Nor would they pay Obedience if I should,
They love your Honour better.

Ag.
Our cause of War, is Scandalous and Mean,
The quarrel of a Bully, for a Jilt.
So many valiant Trojans, as have dy'd
These fertile Fields, for nine Years space with slaughter,
And made the swift Scamander run with blood,
And Menelaus, who in single fight
Struck to the ground, this Ravisher for dead,
Has satisfy'd our Vengeance, and our Honour.

Chru.
Atrides, no. Your Glory must be mine,
Nor can you thus retreat without disgrace.
Believe me, Prince, who lightly weigh their Fame
Make but ill Lovers: Honour's the strongest Ty,
That Chain once broke, there's nothing left to bind.
It is my Pride, that the first Man on Earth
Loves me: Oh Agamemnon keep that Name,
Be glorious still—Send for my Cruel Father,
Thy Love may teach thee Eloquence to move him.
Remember that Chruseis is at stake,
Nor think it mean, to Kneel, to Beg, to Weep;
This be your present Task: I leave you to it,
Adding no more but thus, and note it well.
Be constant in this Tryal of thy Love,
Mine may be next: Fate in each other's hand
Has plac'd a mighty Trust: Be true to thine,
Thy care be Love: And Glory shall be mine.
Exit Chruseis.

Ag.
By Mars, her Father's Spirit mov'd her Tongue,
And his Prophetick Fury shook her Soul.

Nest.
Right Woman still—
Then Foulest, when most Niceness they pretend;
They'l talk of Honour, whilst they'r acting Shame.

Uly.
She brought these Plagues, yet Counsels you to stay;
Can this be Love?

Ag.
Now by the Gods she loves me; Peace, Blasphemers.
Conceptions may like Oracles be dark
To humane search, till by Events explain'd.
Oh! I have faith, for every word she speaks,
And when I leave her, may the Furies seize me.

Enter Chalcas.
Chal.
Hear Agamemnon, all ye Princes hear.
Thus to the Gods, in sacred Synod met
Has Jove pronounc'd—Let not one God be seen
Henceforth to help the Greeks: Our self to day
Will lead the Trojans on, to vengeful Fight:
Mars whets his Sword, and Phœbus keens his Darts,
And the broad Cyclops, forge unerring Bolts;
Juno and Pallas, and the Friends of Greece
In vain implore: But Chidden stand aloof,
Nor dare reply. Yet e'er the Doom be Seal'd,
Or writ by Fate irrevocable down,
If possible, attone this Wrath of Heaven,
Appease the Gods, and send Chruseis back,
The Cause, the cursed Cause of all our Plagues.

Ag.
Prophet, be dumb.
I read thy purpose, and I know thee well,
Thy fatal Voice, ne'er boded good to me:
Brib'd by Achilles still with popular lies,
Devising Prophecies to cross my Will.
Think not that I forget, Seditious Priest,
'Twas thy curst Tongue, pronounc'd my Daughter's Death:
The Gods are Just, and Merciful, and Mild,
Nor made such harsh Demands. 'Twas Priest-craft all.

Chal.
From Heaven these warning come—O hear me, King!
Be yet advis'd—

Ag.
Not Fate's more fixt: Whate'er the Gods have purpos'd,
My Purpose is immutable as theirs.
Nor think me rash, or obstinate in this;
Debated and Deliberate's my resolve,
Whatever Eloquence can urge or frame
I have fore-thought: And shall I part with love
More precious than my Life, to save my Life?
What Fool would barter Blessings for a Curse?
And Life without Chruseis, is the worst
That Fate can find.

Chal.
But Millions are concern'd.

Ag.
And can they better die than for Chruseis?
The World's a worthless Sacrifice for her
More worth than thousand Worlds. Let Chaos come,
Confusion seize on all, whene'er we part;
Intr'est, Ambition, Piety, Renown,
Pity, and Reason, I have weigh'd 'em all,
But O how light! When Love is in the Scale.

Chal.
If Love with every breath can drive it thus
No more let Glory lodge in Humane breast.

Ag.
The Gods that with unnumber'd Eyes look down
From their high Firmament, all stuck with Lights,
See nothing half so Glorious or so Bright.
Glory, that common Mistress of Mankind,
Courted by all, but by so few possess'd,
For which so many Rivals hourly fall,
Early I saw, was tempted, and enjoy'd.
But Love has led me to new Realms of Bliss,
Where Pleasures blossom with Eternal spring,
Enjoyment's made immortal by desire,
And Joys flow-in on Joys, and Rapture streams:
All other sweets are visionary bliss,
Nothing but Love substantial extasie.

Nest.
Oh! That a Face should thus confound our Reason!
This is meer Wildness, Phrenzie, Raving,—
Lunaticks talk better Sense—If this be Love,
Why then, to Love, is to be Mad, stark Mad.

Chal.
Not for thy self, for thou seem'st pleas'd with ruine:
But for the Lives and Honours of all Greece
Do I emplore—Nestor, Ulysses, join,
Entreat him all.—
Weep Princes for your Glories are at stake,
Weep all ye Soldiers for your Lives condemn'd,
Melt, melt this stubborn King—Oh Agamemnon!
To thee I kneel, thus hanging on thy Robe,
Who never wept or knelt but to the Gods;
Let Pity and let Piety prevail:
Behold in me, their Representative,
The Gods of Greece all prostrate at thy Feet,
To save their Altars that e're Night are doom'd
A prey to Trojan rage.

Uly.
Not for my self, or that I fear to die,
Would I avert these Fates—

Ag.
Gods, 'tis too much! why am I hunted thus?
Let loose my Robe—
O Love! How hard a Fate is thine,
Obtain'd with Trouble, and with Pain preserv'd,
Never at rest.
Re-enter Chruseis.
Haste to my Rescue, my Chruseis come,
O hide me from these Tyrants, in thy Arms,
Thou only bring'st me Peace.

Chal.
She only brings you Ruine.

Nest.
Infamy.

Uly.
Inevitable Fate.

Chru.
I fear'd th'advantage that my absence gave,
Forgive my doubts that bring me back again.
By Gods abandon'd, and Mankind pursu'd;
All, all are Foes to your Chruseis now,
Nothing but Love pleads for me.

Ag.
And Love's enough: What argument so strong?
Absent and Present, thou art still the same,
My Faith's the same—What thô the Hunter flies,
The strucken Stag bleeds on.
Th'impression that thou leav'st upon my Soul
Lies there so deep, so lively, and so full,
That Memory recalls no other Thought
But only Love: And only Love of thee.

Chal.
Chryses will have a better answer—

Ag.
No other will I give—So tell him, Prophet:
O there is wondrous Eloquence in Eyes!
Let him complain, and arm all Heaven against me:
Yet stay—Our self will hear what he demands.
Fain would I reconcile my Love and Fame;
Judge me, ye Powers! I would be justifi'd
In all I do—But come what will—
Gods ye may make us Perish; but not Part.
Give me thy hand.
Thô the Winds beat, and loud the Billows roar,
Firm stands the Rock, Unshaken from the Shoar:
Against my Love, thô Heaven and Earth combine,
So will I cleave to Thee, for Ever thine.