University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Enter Ammon.
Ammon.
The Shades of Night retire, and infant Day
Looks doubtful in the East, the Day which bears
My Happiness, or my Destruction.
And you, infernal Ministers of Wrath,
Ye Furies, who delight in human Ills,
Hear, and attend! to no light Purpose call'd!
This Day shall be the Parent of such Deeds
As well deserve your Aid!—soft;—who comes there?—
Tryphon!

SCENE II.

Enter Tryphon to Ammon.
Tryphon.
The same.

Ammon.
The same I would have met.
But say, sage Prophet, why, e'er well 'tis Day,
Thou'rt searching here alone for Prodigies,
And ominous Portents? thou ne'er art wont
So early to forsake thy easy Down,
And venture on th' inclement Breath of Morn.

Tryphon.
Hallow'd I come, and recent from the Temple;
Big with Prophetic Truth, in mystic Dreams
Reveal'd e'en now before the sacred Altar.
If thou art pure, approach.

Ammon.
Fly from thy self,
If thou dost fear Pollution—I am free!

Tryphon.
Ammon, thou may'st repent this impious Mirth.

Ammon.
'Tis now no Time of Sport.
Canst thou be bold?

Tryphon.
Ay, in a worthy Cause.

Ammon.
Hast thou a free, and enterprizing Spirit,
That for the Sake of doing ought that's Great,
Will do't! and make no cold Reflections?
If so, thou hast a Soul for my Design.

Tryphon.
Why this is strange! Say, is my Aid requir'd
In what concerns thy Peace; or to advance
The gen'ral Growth of Piety, and Truth;
To dry the Widow's Tears; or to relieve
The Orphan's Wants?—If thus I am of use,
In brief propose thy Will: Some previous Rites
To these intended Nuptials call me hence.

Ammon.
I am, thou know'st, an Orphan; nobly born;
And a Dependent still.

Tryphon.
I mourn thy Fate.

Ammon.
The wealthy Zimon has an only Daughter.

Tryphon.
Which Child our gracious Benefactor gives
This Morning to thy Friend.

Ammon.
An Heiress, Tryphon,
Best on a ruin'd Noble is bestow'd,
To mend the Breaches angry Fortune makes,
And cleanse that Blood, Contempt, and Poverty
Have well-nigh tainted.

Tryphon.
Hah!—no more of that!
Is this thy Aim?

Ammon.
My Love, and Int'rest both
Demand the beauteous Treasure. Didst thou not discern
The Joy, I vainly labour'd to subdue,
When Zimon twice, in th' Error of his Zeal,
Defer'd the Rites, protracting so my Hope
To this important Day!—Shall I endure
To see Omphales bear away the Maid?
Can I, as Friends are wont, join in the Mirth?
Mix with the sprightly Dance, and Nuptial Song?
Nay more; when slow, and long expected Night,
When every smiling Planet to their Joy
Shall call the happy Lovers, even then
Shall I, with others of the chearful Throng,
Unto my Rival's Bed, their Scene of Bliss,
Usher the blushing Pair? Not e'en in Thought
Can I support it!

Tryphon.
Fond Presumption!

Ammon.
No! You can construe Omens as you please,
And either way expound the Will of Heav'n,
As Inclination, or as Int'rest leads.
I know thou can'st: 'Tis so thou dost delude
The Superstitious Zimon, practising
Upon his credulous, and easy Nature.

Tryphon.
Unheard-of Insolence! Am I chose out
To aid thee in thy Crimes! Thus dost thou treat
The sacred Seer of Heav'n, whose hallow'd Breast
Th' Immortals deign to visit, and inform?
Away, thou Prophanation! Vex no more
My holy Ears with thy Impieties!

[Going off.
Ammon.
No! Thou shalt hear me on, and aid me too!

[Detaining him.
Tryphon.
Aid thee! To rob thy Patron of his Daughter.
Is Zimon thus repaid? Is this the Meed
Of his Protection, and indulgent Care?
Had he not sav'd thee, Fate had cast thee forth
To all the ling'ring Pains of shameful Want.
But when thy Father fell, this gen'rous Friend
Held thee an helpless Infant in his Arms,
And fondly told thee—Yet thou hast a Father!
So took thee home, and rank'd thee with his fair
Hesione, where, like a tender Plant
Plac'd on the Brink of some refreshing Stream,
You flourish'd rhro' his kindly Influence.
This, Ammon, is the Man thou wou'd'st abuse!

Ammon.
His Gifts are, as a Step-Dame's Largesses,
But cold, and given with a grudging Hand:
No more than to support my Misery,

Tryphon.
Methinks, I see Omphales too inrag'd,
And ready to accuse his perjur'd Friend
On thy own Head be all thy Treachery!

[Going off.
Ammon.
I have a Lure shall bring thee back again!
Tryphon, behold! this Gem contains the Sum
Of all my present Fortunes.

[Discovers a Jewel, while Try. turns and pauses.
Tryphon.
Be it so;—
Thou dar'st not bribe me sure?

[Approaching.
Ammon.
Impossible!

Tryphon.
I think, thou dar'st not!—'Tis, in Size and Lustre,
Second to none my Eyes have yet beheld—
[Observing the Jewel.
Woud'st thou to any of the heavenly Pow'rs
Present, and dedicate this precious Treasure,
I'll recommend it with my warmest Pray'rs.

Ammon.
I now conceive thee—here!—may Paphian Venus
Accept this Gem as Ammon's Offering!

[Gives him the Jewel
Tryphon.
I take it, as 'tis meant!

Ammon.
I trust you do.

Tryphon.
A Sacred Off'ring to the Queen of Love,
I've no sinister Ends! I take no Bribes!

Ammon.
To thee no Bribe; but to the Paphian Goddess!
Venus, in Pity to her Votary's Pain,
May blast these Lovers hopes, turn all their Signs
Of Peace, and Joy to ominous, and bad,
Inspiring thy Prophetic Tongue to prove,
That I alone was born to bless the Maid.

Tryphon.
The Deities delight in Offsprings!
Venus is present, and accepts thy Gift.
—A num'rous Offspring, and a constant Love
Shall bless thy future Days!—but this not yet!
Nor is Hesione the promis'd Fair!
Not Jove himself can alter Fate's Decrees!

[Spoken as tho' he then laboured with the Deity.
Ammon.
Practise thy Arts on Fools!

[Endeavouring to recover the Gem.
Tryphon.
O Sacrilege!—
Dar'st thou retake what to th' Immortal Powers
Thou'st offer'd up, and sanctify'd to Heav'n?—
I tremble for thee!

[Going off.
Ammon.
Stir! by this good Sword,
Thy Fate pursues!

Tryphon.
Fond Man! I'm arm'd from Heav'n!

Ammon.
Hold!—I have yet a stronger Argument!

[Recollecting.
Tryphon.
No more? it is not in the Pow'r of Man
To tempt me!

Ammon.
No? nor Woman, Dotard?

Tryphon.
Hah!—

[Discovering Signs of Surprise.
Ammon.
The kind, young Slave, the beauteous African,
Swears thou'rt a very Paris in thy Courtship!
—Is it not Death for any of thy Tribe
To break his solemn Oath of Chastity?
[In a threatning Tone.
—Nay, blush not, nor deny it, holy Seer!
You but prepar'd her for more youthful Arms!
She told me all your Love, e'en from the time
When you pursu'd her faultring, to the Grove,
And mutter'd Curses on your aged Limbs.
'Twas then, that, lavish of your Sighs and Pray'rs,
You pour'd out all your tender Artifice!
Why all this Fear you cry'd, this coy Disdain!
Can chirping Birds reveal? can Winds complain?
Will yon, foft, murm'ring Brook our Loves upraid?
Or Myrtles tell what's done beneath their Shade?
The stoln Delight with me you safely prove;
For who suspects the sacred Seer of Love?
—Thus eloquent thou wast! then, to confirm
The wav'ring Maid, thou needs must make it clear,
That Vice, and Virtue are Opinions!
That the Discovery only is the Crime!
Till she—nay, frown not! it avails thee nought!

Tryphon.
[After a Pause.
Ammon, thou know'st me well:
and I know thee.
The Masks are off, and we convicted stand
To one another.

Ammon.
Then our wisest Course
Is to secure each other's Interest.

Tryphon.
Grant me but one thing more, I'll follow thine
Thro' all the Labyrinths of close Deceit.
Thou art not now to learn our Patron's Fortunes,
His endless Treasure, his unnumber'd Stores,
The Gifts of Athens, and the Spoils of War;
Enough to weary the most lavish Hand,
And even make a Virtue of Profuseness.
Nor need I tell thee, by th' Athenian Law
'Tis all Hesione's Inheritance.

Ammon.
Enough! I can imagine thy Request.
—Now, by the equal Powers who preside
O'er mortal Contracts and revenge their Fraud,
I swear! and thus confirm the Oath! —succeed,
The Fourth of all her dowry shall be thine.

Tryphon.
No more! I'll call up all my Artifice!
—Behold! the Morning gilds th' Athenian Towers.
Zimon will soon awake, and bless the Day.
Then will I fill his Superstitious Mind
With holy Scruples, and religious Fears;
Invent new Prophecies; confound the old;
Be wond'rous dark and doubtful—

Ammon.
And in haste:
Matters of this Consistence must not hang.

Tryphon.
The very Banquet, If I aim aright,
[After a Pause.
Made for thy Rival's Nuptials, graces thine.

Ammon.
My Soul will labour for the wish'd Event!

Tryphon.
Fear not! the Man we purpose to deceive,
Thou know'st by Nature moulded to our Use.
Hast thou forgot what in the Front of War
Th' Enthusiast did, when either Host prepar'd,
In dreadful Silence stood; 'twixt Foe, and Foe
A narrow, but an horrid Interval!
While Ruin in a thousand threatning Shapes
Ruin oppos'd; and grinning Death o'er all
Shook his dire Shaft, impatient for th' Alarm,
To let loose all his Furies, and commence
The wild Destruction? it was at that time
That Victim after Victim madly fell
By his own Hand; for still in vain they bled,
Nor promis'd to his Arms the wish'd Success:
When suddenly, behold! th' impatient Foe
Rain on our Host a Storm of missive War.
Yet wou'd he sacrifice? None daret'advance,
He cry'd, till Heav'n commands! our Ranks grew thin;
Reluctant, unreveng'd th' Athenians fell.
At length the Omens of Success were found,
Then strong with double Fury, on he led
His conquering Army! his devouring Sword,
Thus licens'd from above, and edg'd with Zeal,
Fell keen, and heavy on the Persian Pride!

Ammon.
Such is the Force of superstitious Fire!

Tryphon.
But why to thee need I unfold the Man?
'Tis Time I practis'd on th' Enthusiast.
Farewel; thy Rival comes!

Ammon.
Smiling in Hope!

Tryphon.
Why smile thou on him too: meet Smile with Smile,
And safely in the Form of Truth deceive.

[Exit Tryphon

SCENE III.

Enter Omphales to Ammon.
Ammon.
Welcome from Athens! this good Morning's Hopes
Have brought you early to your Happiness.
[Embracing him.
No longer be the promis'd Bliss delay'd!
May every Omen now propitious prove,
And every Joy that Hymen can bestow
Reward Omphales Truth!

Omphales.
Thou'rt ever kind!

Ammon.
So be the Fair you love!

Omphales.
Possess'd of her.
Not Jealousy it self might doubt my Bliss.
O Ammon, she was made without Allay!
Perfection's fairest Pattern!

Ammon.
So compleat,
That you alone are worthy of the Maid.
All Greece shall joy to see Omphales blest:
Unenvy'd you shall call that Beauty yours,
Her Wealth, this happy Mansion too, your own,
This lov'd Retreat, which proudly from its Height
Looks down on Athens as it wou'd contemn
The busy Croud, and frown on the vain World:
Is, and is not of Athens.

Omphales.
O, my Friend!
Name not those Trifles with Hesione!
From Beggary, and Want! e'en from the Chains
Of Slav'ry I had ta'en her to my Arms,
And glory'd in her Smiles! when thou art told,
I doat with Fondness never known before;
Am dead to all Delights but those she gives,
Her Arms my World, Her Bosom my Retreat;
Yet think me Just! it shall be strange, indeed,
When thou'rt forgot! were Fortune in my Pow'r,
Thou shoud'st outshine thy glorious Ancestors.
Had'st thou Ambition, it might serve thee now:
War threatens us; (but thou'rt a Slave to Ease)
War is at hand, and calls our Youth to Glory.

Ammon.
I thought the World at Peace: th' Athenian Arms
Hang idly up, and rust within our Temples.
Whence is this Storm?

Omphales.
It blows from Persia.
Th' Invaders, like a Deluge, come upon us,
Exulting in their Barb'rous Multitude,
And pompous War. It is not yet abroad:
This Morning will unsold it to the State.

Ammon.
Zimon will head our Pow'rs.

Omphales.
Most certainly:
His Name's a Terror to the Persian.
Thrice has the daring Chief o'erthrown the Foe.
O, cou'd he but as well himself subdue;
His only Error! turn but from that Side,
And thou may'st look with Wonder at the Man!
By Heav'ns, it galls my Heart, when I behold
These Prophets lord it o'er a gen'rous Spirit!
I tremble at their Pow'r! our common Cause,
The Fate of Greece it self is in their Hands!
Under their Omens we go forth to War,
And with their Omens sheath the Sword in Peace;
For them we conquer; for the holy Drones
Batten upon the Harvest of our Toil,
And laugh to see our Labour!—fain I'd learn,
Which was their Hour of Danger; or the Time
When to themselves they prophesy'd of Ill!
But this is not enough! they now become
Our private Guides, and rule our inmost Souls!
Influence every Circumstance of Life!
Our Reason; nay, our very Passions too
They wou'd inslave! and we must love, and hate
At their Direction!—Insolence, and Craft!

Ammon.
Delays have vext thee! I'll engage, at least,
For Tryphon's Faith!

Omphales.

[Exeunt.