University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

SCENE Continues.
Enter Timoclea and Ismene.
Ismene.
And did Adrastus break his vows with case?
Alas! far otherwise Ismene found it.
My virgin heart, so cold to Love, sustain'd
His Mines and Batteries long; but once subdu'd,
Receiv'd a foe, that will not be dislodg'd.

Tim.
Indeed I pity you.

Ism.
My spirits flag,
And leave me void of help; but You might watch
The raving Queen, and comfort her affliction.

Tim.
And have not I my share of sorrow too?
Yes, dear Ismene; my officious haste
To ease her grief, has blasted all at once
My springing hopes, and unawares expos'd
The Guiltless to her rage.

Ism.
The Robber mean you?

Tim.
The Robber is miscall'd; for, dear Ismene,
I saw him while he waited to receive
His sentence from the King: the brave defence
He made (as they inform me who beheld it)
Almost exceeds belief. His single arm
Held all his foes at bay; and, in his face
Inflam'd with rage, and yet so fair and young,
Adonis soften'd Mars.

Ism.
And both combin'd
To charm a Venus.

Tim.
Ha!

Ism.
You colour! well,
The Stranger in his turn was fir'd?

Tim.
He was;
You would have sworn he was, had you beheld
His open look, divided, as it seem'd,
Between his scorn of Death and love of Me:
The love, that fir'd him at first sight, Ismene,
Glow'd in his cheeks, and trembled in his eyes.

Ism.
A soft and secret sympathy inspir'd
This mutual warmth; and love no sooner touch'd
Your tender heart, than his return'd the musick.

Tim.
Well! I am quite o'erwhelm'd with fear and shame
To think what I have own'd. But take it all;
Ev'n my whole Soul; for oh! the pleasing pain
Of a first love, my first and last, has seiz'd it.
Ye gracious Gods! have pity on his youth;
And turn the Tyrant's heart; ye cannot mine.

Enter Adrastus.
Ism.
Then lose no time to warn the Youth you love;
Beset with dangers from the Queen's revenge,
And Tyrant's cruelty.

Adr.
The Youth she loves!

[Aside.
Tim.
What can I do?

Ism.
He is confin'd?

Tim.
He is.

Ism.
You know the prison opens to our garden.
Use but the name of Merope; the Keeper,
Her old domestic, and devoted slave,
Will introduce you by that private way.
But soft! Adrastus! what can bring him hither?

Adr.
The King intends a speedy visit here,
On business of importance. Will Ismene
Inform her Mistress?

Tim.
No, that task is mine.

Ism.
You need not presently return.

[Apart.
Tim.
I will not.
[Exit Timoclea.

Ism.
I took you, Sir, for One you much resemble;
Adrastus—pardon my mistake—had you
Been He, the transports of impatient love
Had wing'd you to me with repeated vows.
You had not shunn'd me then like soul infection;
Nor turn'd all pale, as you had met the ghost
Of some poor wretch your treachery had murder'd.

Adr.
You tax me justly; and behold the slave,
Who would avoid you now.

Ism.
Inhuman!

Adr.
Nature
Form'd us unlike each other—Time does more,
And makes us vary from ourselves as much.
My Vows, when made, were meant to be perform'd.—
I fain would mean so still—but think—oh! think
Ismene's Lover is Nicanor's Son;
And oft has begg'd and importun'd in vain
A cruel Father to approve our loves.
My power was short of what I fancy'd once.
You may have been deceiv'd; but so was I.

Ism.
What! is my ruin then become your sport?
A theme for Sophistry to droll on? Traitor!
To varnish guilt against your soul's persuasion,
And meanly trifle with a bleeding heart!

Adr.
Would Heav'n indulge the longings of my soul,
And fashion to my wish my future life,
(Ay that were life indeed) I then would fly
To those soft snowy arms, and, circled there,
Look down on Sceptres—By those eyes I would,
Thy bright, victorious eyes; thy lips, thy bosom;
By all those charms that I am doom'd to love,
And never to enjoy.

Ism.
Is this the faith?
When trust in after-times shall be betray'd,
Weakness insulted, virtue undermin'd,
The guilt shall all be charg'd on thy example,
The scandal of thy sex, and curse of ours.

Adr.
Be calm, and hear me out.

Ism.
When perjury
Has tir'd comparison for frightful colours,
As perjur'd as Adrastus, shall complete
The black infernal image.

Adr.
Hold.

Ism.
The sting
Of future spite shall dwell in this reproach:
She was no stranger to Ismene's wrongs,
And yet believ'd a man. But know, when death
Has disencumber'd my avenging ghost
From this loath'd prison, it shall surely haunt thee—
Scream thee to madness—push thy treach'rous heart
On thy own sword; and so perform the work
Of that remorse, which men alone can feel;
But Hell-born Monsters, like Adrastus, laugh at.
The news that vengeance has o'ertook thy crimes,
Shall reach the shades below, and comfort Me.
[Pauses, and weeps.
What have I done to be thus strangely wretched?
My unoffending tenderness requir'd
A milder doom—sure none could merit This—
Nor is my nature of a frame to bear it.

Adr.
Her sorrows wound my soul.

[Aside.
Ism.
Ah! tell me why;
Why was I singled out to be destroy'd?
If oaths in love are wind, my Sex abounds
In false ones, ready as your self to break 'em.
O! had you not resolv'd on my undoing,
I then had 'scap'd: but you pursu'd it long—
Alas! too long I was not lightly won;
And spread no snares to captivate your heart;
For Innocence is none—No, That, I find,
Is made to be ensnar'd.

Adr.
To be ador'd.

Ism.
When, cruel man, your sighs, your tears, your oaths,
Prevail'd at length (your titles never could);
Say, did I warp the least from plighted faith?
Ah! no—'twas past my pow'r—when I was conquer'd,
'Twas not by halves—for I could love but One—
And oh! that One was You.

Adr.
But now you hate me—
Do—for I hate myself.

Ism.
I own, Timoclea
Excells in Beauty to excuse your change:
But then remember, that unless she proves
As false as You, she never can be yours.

Adr.
Not by consent. But oh, the King, Ismene,
(And Kings will be obey'd) resolves to join us;
To join our hands—he never can our hearts—
'Tis true without an oath—for what are oaths
And imprecations now? I cannot wish
So great a curse as that of losing you;
And that, Ismene, is already mine—
Would it were mine alone—oh! dry these tears—
You may be happy in another love—
Adrastus never can.

Ism.
Away, Impostor.

Adr.
Believe me an Impostor—Traitor—Monster—
If that unkind belief can give you ease,
If it can make you but forget Adrastus:
To your repose I'll sacrifice my honour;
And all the tortures that attend our Parting,
Enhanc'd by Infamy, shall doubly rack me.

Ism.
'Tis well—I've heard enough—if ever foes
Are mov'd by pity, let Ismene beg it
Of you her greatest enemy—remember
You had another name. By all the vows
That I thought binding—by our loves that should
Have dy'd together—cease, O cease, to mock me
Thus with a feign'd regret—I cannot bear it
From him who once was kinder—you have leave
To trample on my grave—for there Ismene
Shall sleep, as unconcern'd for all her wrongs,
As her Adrastus now. Farewel for ever!
[Exit Ismene.

Adr.
Ah! dear unhappy Maid! Farewel for ever!
Those were her words—how mournfully they sound!
But what a wretch am I, who dare be false,
Yet lose my falshood's hire! She says Timoclea
Will ne'er be mine—it may be so—the Robber
Has lur'd her from me—Thanks for that discov'ry
To Chance—The garden is the private way
That leads her to the Youth she loves, in prison.
What if I met her there?

Enter Phalantus.
Pha.
The King approaches.

Adr.
Give notice then to Merope.

[Exit Phalantus.
Re-enter Phalantus with Merope; at the other door Glycon.
Gly.
Withdraw.
[To Adrastus and Phalantus, who go out.
All joy to Merope—the House of Mourning
Shall change its chear; for I, the messenger
And author of your happiness—

Mer.
Of mine?

Gly.
Pronounce you once again Messene's Queen;
Choice of my heart, and partner of my pow'r.
My vow of Sacrifice on this occasion
Made to the genial powers, is just perform'd;
And now—

Mer.
Another sacrifice remains;
And must, ere we can wed, be made by Me.

Gly.
Name it.

Mer.
My truth—my everlasting love
Due to the Manes of my murder'd Lord—
A Hecatomb of vows, whose breach would sink me
To Hell and Thee—my yet unblemish'd honour—
My shame, and my revenge—I would have added
My peace of mind; but That, long since destroy'd
With my Cresfontes, is not mine to offer:
None but the wretched peace which mourners find;
The doleful privilege to vent my sorrows.

Gly.
Behold the frantic pleasure of a woman,
Divorc'd from comfort, and indulging pain!

Mer.
Behold the monument of wrath divine,
A lightning-blasted cedar! and regard
An awful ruin fenc'd from violation.

Gly.
Is grief a treasure, that you fix your eye
On dark tempestuous years? Look forward now;
And teach me how to please. I am not often
So graciously dispos'd.

Mer.
Recall the time
When joy and I were one—that interval
Mark'd by Cresfontes, and my kinder fate.

Gly.
The past, whate'er it is, since past so long,
Is best forgotten: For the hours of joy,
And years of sorrow, give distaste alike
To distant memory. Our nearer view
Is entertain'd, or shock'd, as it encounters
The beauteous palace, or the shapeless heap:
As we retire, the pleasure and disgust
Sink by degrees; till in one gloomy mist
Distinction disappears.

Mer.
No more—tormentor.

Gly.
Dash not the present good by peevish visions
Of past offence: He ne'er will slake his thirst,
Who fondly tarries till the flood runs pure—
Approach it as it is; and wisely drink
Of royal love and bounty.

Mer.
Lead me first
Where I may drink of Lethe's stream, in deep
Oblivion of my wrongs, a draught as large
As thou hast quaff'd of blood, thy kindred-blood,
Drawn from my husband's and my childrens veins.

Gly.
Why dwell you on remembrances like these,
Forgetful of the clemency, by which
You live to taunt me thus?

Mer.
Behold, ye Gods!
Behold and wonder at a tyrant's bounty!
Not giving death, with him, is giving life.

Gly.
Think on your third, and still surviving, son,
Sav'd by my—

Mer.
Hold—I beg thee hold—O spare me
That thought, or madness will pursue it.

Gly.
Why?

Mer.
No questions—name him not.

Gly.
Whate'er was done,
My tempter, Greatness, justifies it all.
Useful and lawful, heavily distinguish'd
By pedant moralists, are still the same.
For if it were unjust to reign, and shake
Dependence off, the yoke of hero souls;
If wit and valour were deny'd by Jove
On these occasions to exert their force,
In vain he would bestow these gifts upon us.

Mer.
Barbarian sentiments! but we appeal;
My husband's Ghost appeals aloud, from Jove
By second causes governing below,
To Jove in his superior court above,
And his assessor Truth.

Gly.
Your loss I mourn;
And offer to repair; a husband now;
In time a father, to secure succession,
And prop my drooping age.

Mer.
An aged tyrant!
Who e'er beheld the prodigy? Display
The rack and wheel before my eyes—let tortures
Wear me to death; and Merope shall smile.
But thy detested interest, misnam'd
Thy love, has forg'd an image to distract me
With trembling horror—What? partake the stain
That sticks upon thy blood-polluted hand,
By joining it with mine? Shall I embrace
My husband's murd'rer—shall this bosom warm
The serpent, whose infernal sting destroy'd
My helpless infants, as they begg'd in vain
For life with lifted hands, and suppliant eyes?
The thought—the mention, like an ague, shakes
My shudd'ring frame, and chills my inmost soul.

Gly.
Resume your reason, Merope, and with it
Messene's Crown.

Mer.
A bribe not worth my answer.
But could you stretch your universal sway
Wide as your infamy—were crowns as plenteous,
As curses on your head, I might vouchsafe
To tell you then, that all the sun surveys,
Weigh'd with the plague of being yours, would prove
A dowry far too poor.
[Exit Merope.

Gly.
How dares the Traitress
Dispute my pleasure? She may find too soon,
That, scorning mine, she makes the grave her bed.

[Exit.
SCENE changes to a Prison.
Egistus sitting, and leaning on a Table.
Egis.
Is this my lodging then, a dungeon damp
[Rising
With chilling vapours? And this floor my bed?
O! how unlike my pastoral retreat
In Tempe's shady vale, beneath a sky
Serene and bright! where nature's various hand
Arrays the mead; and vernal gales, that breathe
The virgin odours of the Year, combine
In balmy whispers with the murmuring stream,
And feather'd choir, to lull the soul to rest.
But oh, the heavenly maid I saw to day,
Would She return to charm my longing eyes,
This gloomy prison would outshine the morn
Enrich'd with purple light—the birds of spring
Would lose their music, and the flow'rs their sweets.
Ye Gods! that form, still present to my mind,
Deludes my eyes, or they behold her now.

Enter Timoclea, and Keeper.
Keep.
This is the room; but do not stay too long
For fear of accidents. I take my leave.
[Exit Keeper.

Tim.
'Tis He. Assist me, sex, this once to sound
[Aside.
His inclinations, and conceal my own,
How fares it, stranger? I bewail your lot.
Yours are not limbs for fetters to embrace.
What pity is it so severe a blast
Should nip so fair a bloom!

Egis.
The words you utter,
Sweet as the balm upon the lips that breathe 'em,
Have power to reconcile me to my chains:
And fortune's anger, more than half appeas'd,
Has dropp'd its terrors in a lover's frown.

Tim.
But if the consequence of this restraint
(As much I fear) should reach your forfeit life,
How would the tidings of a loss so dear
Shock your surviving friends! your mother's cries
Ring in my ears—your father's silent anguish
Pains me yet more—but, what alarms me most,
The mistress of your vows will wring her hands,
And tear her locks, and curse perhaps herself,
Who threw the veil of coldness or disdain
Before a love she then may own too late.
In vain her eyes may flow when yours are clos'd;
In vain her shrill, repeated shrieks may pierce
The hardest hearts, when yours shall beat no more.

Egis.
You start a thought of exquisite distress.
O never let the fair my soul adores,
Become so wretched as to curse herself!
A tear from each of those subduing eyes
Exceeds my hope, and would o'er-pay my death.

Tim.
To shun a fate so hard, and live for her,
Try to escape. 'Tis death to stay.

Egis.
No matter;
Since You, my better genius, have assum'd
The most inchanting form on earth to warn me;
You that can banish fear, and soften pain,
All but the pain you give. You mention'd death:
Where is it, heav'nly excellence? The tyrant,
Though still indulgent to his thirst of blood,
Begins (I hear) to cool, and means to spare me.

Tim.
Alas! you know not of a blacker storm
That threatens hourly from another point.

Egis.
From whence? O tell me.

Tim.
Will you then be secret?

Egis.
Secret as nature in the kindly birth
Of passion stealing on my heedless heart;
When, wond'ring why it ak'd, and whence it heav'd
With unaccustom'd sighs, I look'd within,
And found your image there.

Tim.
Is then my pity
Misconstrued love, that your presuming passion,
Forgetful of your poverty and chains,
Affronts Timoclea's ear?

Egis.
I own the justice,
That gives me death in that resenting frown!
But oh! you wrong yourself and me, to think
A vain belief of winning You disclos'd
My too aspiring love. Let vulgar charms
Allure us to Desire where hope supports it:
Your eyes have lightning to transfix the soul,
Though we can only gaze, and he'er must reach
The Heav'n from whence it broke.

Tim.
Methinks your flame,
Unfed by hope, had been more wisely smother'd.

Egis.
'Tis base to harbour thoughts we dare not own

Tim.
Alas! my thoughts deserve a worse reproach:
I dare not own them, and I cannot hide.

[Aside.
Egis.
You warn'd me of a storm: 'Tis welcome now;
Prepar'd by your disdain: Ay, that's the sting
Of death, already fix'd and tort'ring here.
But by the cruel joys, denied to Me,
That wait to crown your more auspicious love,
O pardon mine—pardon the dear offenc
Which I must still repeat—it is become
Part of my being now—the vestal fire,
Nurs'd by chaste breath, and kindled from above,
Can only burn as pure, and last as long.

Enter Adrastus, with Guards.
Adr.
I little thought to meet a rival here.
Confine him closer.

[To the Guards.
Egis.
Villains, off. I follow;
Indiff'rent where I go. Debarr'd the light
Of those fair eyes, I were a captive still;
A dungeon slave, though plac'd on Glycon's throne.
[Exit Egistus guarded.

Adr.
Forgive my duty to the state, that thus
Has interrupted the devotion paid you
By your Adonis, that illustrious youth
Of high descent, your favourite adorer.

Tim.
'Tis well when favourites are known, that others
May stand aloof, and give their betters way.

Adr.
Right! I'll attend him to Timoclea's door
At shame-fac'd distance; bow, and take my leave.

Tim.
Now you are kind: I know you will not fail me:
Adrastus never breaks his word with women.

Adr.
You bear it bravely. Can you fly from Me
To beggary and shame? A son of earth?
A vagrant outcast of no note, besides
The double brand of robbery and murder?

Tim.
Your malice might with equal truth have added
Your own dear features, perjur'd and ingrate,
To make the picture you have drawn complete.

Adr.
The baseness of your choice will quickly sour me
To hatred and disdain.

Tim.
I am in both
Beforehand with you. No—you hate me now
Implacably—'tis natural—I know you
For what you are: And therefore you must hate me.

Adr.
Has what I am a name?

Tim.
It has; a foul one:
I leave Ismene to bestow it on you.

Adr.
If she was slighted for the sake of you,
Thank me for asking, where I might compel you,
Back'd as I am by sov'reign power.

Tim.
Compel me!

Adr.
No; I am not so desperately fond,
Howe'er I flatter'd once. Adieu—your scoffs
Return'd in vengeance on your minion's head—

Tim.
Whatever fate attends the stranger, mark me,
The same shall soon be mine: For know, Timoclea
Can die for Him, and will not live for You.

Adr.
Revenge! I laugh at female threats! Revenge!
[Exit Adrastus.

Tim.
What can be done to save him now, unwarn'd
Of the first danger, and expos'd to new
From rival rage? but oh the Pow'rs, propitious
To chaste Desire and Innocence, defend
That precious life. Yet, come the worst that can,
His heart is mine—Hope dawns in that reflection,
And healing joy. As when the traveller,
Who prints with weary feet the burning sands
Of parch'd Arabia, halts a while, and turns
His panting bosom to its fragrant gales;
Their spicy breath his harrass'd limbs renews;
And, Nature thus refresh'd, the chearless road pursues.

[Exit.