 | Timoleon |  |
12
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A Chamber in the House of Dinarchus.Enter Eunesia.
Glide on, ye Hours, 'till my Timoleon comes,
Glide swiftly on, as useless all to me.
'Till he arrives, Joy has no Business here;
With him it flew, and waits for his Return.
Enter Servant.
Serv.
A Stranger begs Admittance to your Presence.
Eun.
Conduct him in.—Who can this be? Timoleon!
Grant but that, Heav'n—and I have all I wish.
It must be he!
Enter Timoleon.
Timoleon! Yes! My Soul!
Timol.
Eunesia!
[Embrace.
'Tis come; at length the happy Hour is come,
That gives Eunesia to my longing Arms;
'Tis come with gay Delights, with smiling Pleasures,
With ev'ry Bliss that crowns successful Love.
Delightful Fair!—Eternal Spring of Sweets!
O thou art dear!—I cannot say as what;
Nothing is sure so dear as my Eunesia.
Eun.
O my Timoleon! do not talk thus to me.
So great the Pleasure, 'tis a Pain to bear;
Yet do, talk on, for if I sink beneath it,
'Twill be for thee, and in thy dear lov'd Arms.
Timol.
How shall I tell my fond, fond Passion to thee?
By tender Vows? by Looks? or by my Sighs?
But tender Vows, nor Looks, nor all my Sighs
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O! it is like thy Charms, beyond Description.
Eun.
Speak on, speak on; I cou'd for ever hear,
I cou'd for ever listen to thy Vows,
That breathe such Transports to my ravish'd Soul,
So soft the Melody—so softly Sweet,
It wakens ev'ry sleeping Joy to Life,
And steals away each Passion—but my Love.
Timol.
Yes, I cou'd talk on those lov'd Charms of thine,
'Till ev'ry Echo shou'd repeat Eunesia,
As if it doated on the Name, like me.
O thou engaging Softness!
Eun.
Yes, Timoleon,
Here all my Fears I lose; not ev'n the Tyrant
Has Power to hurt me here.
Timol.
Fears! and a Tyrant!
What dost thou talk on? What hast thou to fear?
Eun.
O my Timoleon! summon all thy Reason,
Thy usual Strength of Mind, to hear a Story
That at each Word will wound thee to the Soul.
Timol.
Thou then must tell it me.—So sweet thy Voice,
The Tale will lose its Horror in the Musick.
Eun.
Take it at once.—O must I be the first
To grieve thee thus?
Timol.
I'm on the Rack to hear it.
Eun.
Had not thy Duty call'd thee hence, what Woes
Might'st thou have sav'd thy Country?
Timol.
Ha! my Country!
Eun.
She is a Slave.
Timol.
Say'st thou? a Slave, Eunesia?
Eun.
No Tongue her Desolation can describe;
No Pen can paint the Grief she cannot hide,
Yet fears to show.—She's fallen from that Height
Where late she fate, the Arbitress of Greece.
Prostrate, beneath Tyrannick Pow'r she lies,
While Rapine, Lust, and Death, range thro' her Streets,
And revel uncontroul'd.
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Is't possible?
Eun.
Cover'd with Heaps of slaughter'd Citizens,
She looks one general Grave.
Timol.
Immortal Gods!
Eun.
Each Patriot falls beneath some Ruffian's Sword;
The frighted Matron sees her Lord expire,
And shudders for his Offspring in her Arms;
While this, with broken Cries, or silent Tears,
For Pity begs—in vain—the reeking Poniard
Strikes home, and mingles in one common Stream
The Parent's, and the Infant's Blood.—Olinthus!
How will his Passions burst into a Blaze!
When he shall hear—his Father—
Timol.
Ha! Philistus!
Eun.
Is murder'd.
Timol.
What! Philistus murder'd too!
Who is the Tyrant? Point him out, ye Gods!
For Vengeance equal to his monstrous Crimes!
But say, Eunesia, speak the impious Man.
Eun.
There, my Timoleon, deeper will it wound thee.
Timol.
No; I this Moment cast him from my Love;
I have no Friend that is my Country's Foe.
Eun.
Suppose Timophanes?
Timol.
What! my Eunesia?
Eun.
Timophanes.
Timol.
But say not that 'tis he.
Eun.
It is, Timoleon.
Timol.
Then I'm indeed unhappy!
This Blow I was not arm'd to bear.—My Brother!
Can it be he? My Brother, did'st thou say?
Eun.
Timoleon, yes; he has abus'd that Power
His Country gave him; he has turn'd those Arms
She took in to preserve her, on her self.
Timol.
Fatal Ambition! how dost thou mis-lead us?
Wretch that I am! I am the Cause of this;
I, who have labour'd so to veil his Follies,
And set his Virtues in the fairest Light.
Eun.
The Virgins Cries, the dying Groans he hears
Exulting, and directs the Soldiers Rage.
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And riots in the Ruin which he makes.
Timol.
Can there be such Impiety in Man?
Inglorious Brother! thus to abuse thy Fame,
Thy Country!—Well, if one must fall a Victim,
Corinth, or He, there is no room to doubt.
Corinth, I here devote me to thy Call.
O, if my Death can close the Scene of Blood,
And Freedom, from my Ashes, rise to Life,
At me, Timophanes, thy Fury aim;
Let all the future Wounds thou giv'st, be mine!
Eun.
O my Timoleon! what have I not fear'd,
Not dreaded from Lycander's impious Love?
The vile Companion of the Tyrant's Riots!
Lust is their Deity, their Sport is Murder.
Where then can Virtue for a Refuge fly?
Timol.
Think not but thine is dearer than my Life;
I'll guard it safe.—Yet Heav'n will guard it too.
Lycander! Durst he? But, my dear Eunesia,
Forgive me, O my Soul! if for a while,
I chase each tender Passion from my Heart,
Fly from thy Arms, and ev'n thy Love forget.
Eun.
With Pleasure I resign thee to my Country.
Be all the Passions of our Souls alike!
My Heart has caught the Fire within thy Breast,
And with a Love of Virtue glows like thine.
Go on, thy Fondness for Eunesia lose,
'Till thou hast freed thy Country. Then, Timoleon,
With Joy I will receive thee to my Arms,
And pay thy Labours with an Age of Love.
Timol.
Thou Excellence! I'll study to deserve thee.
Thou can'st the rugged Paths of Honour smooth,
And lessen all its Toils.—But I must leave thee.
Corinth demands each Moment of my Time,
And cuts off all the Tenderness of Parting.
The glorious Work of Liberty compleat,
'Twill heighten all the Transports of our Love,
Raise ev'n thy Charms, and add new Lustre to thee.
[Exit.
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How will my Heart exult to see my Hero!
While blooming thus, while ev'ry Virgin's Wish,
Rising at once the Father of his Country!
But, ha! his Life—O be propitious, Heav'n!
Appoint some watchful Genius for his Guard.
'Tis not one Life alone in his you spare,
But, saving him, you make Mankind your Care.
[Exit.
Dinarchus discover'd on a Couch; to him, Æschylus.
Æsc.
How gentle is his Sleep!—Such always is
The Sleep of Innocence, in Youth or Age.
What Noise is that?
Din.
Help, help, Eunesia.
Æsc.
Ha! how he starts and trembles! I'll awake him.
Din.
Tear, tear the Villain off—O Æschylus!
Æsc.
My Lord!
Din.
What! who are you?
[Starts up.
Æsc.
Your Friend.
Din.
Æschylus!
I had thee in my Sleep.—But art thou he?
Æsc.
I am.
Din.
O Æschylus! I've seen such Horrors,
I shudder at 'em yet.—Such, such a Dream!
Another such wou'd plunge me into Madness.
I thought—
Æsc.
'Tis past—then think of it no more.
Din.
I thought my Daughter and my Self were seated,
Where the glad Brook plays winding thro' the Grove;
The Sun-beams cours'd each other o'er the Stream,
Gentle the Stream, scarce ruffled by the Wind;
The Wind in Whispers breath'd; the joyous Birds
Rais'd their wild Notes to emulate her Song.
When strait a Ruffian rush'd from out the Grove;
He gaz'd with eager Wonder on my Daughter;
He seiz'd her; then I saw the little Trembler
With Hair dishevell'd, and with panting Breasts,
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The lustful Satyr star'd his monst'rous Purpose.
I wou'd have help'd her—but, alas! I cou'd not.
I strove to rise, but something chain'd me down.
I call'd for Help—Timoleon's Aid implor'd;
Thee too I call'd—and found—'twas but a Dream.
Æsc.
No more.
Din.
I tremble yet.
Æsc.
'Twill soon be over.
The Waves, enrag'd by a tempestuous Wind,
Play for a while, ev'n when the Storm's at rest;
Then, by degrees, they sink into a Calm.
Din.
But hush! be still! Hark, hark! What Voice is that?
I thought I heard a Voice like my Eunesia's,
(But faint, as is the distant, dying Echo;)
Cry out—My Father—Why this Mockery?
Why this Abuse on one so old as I am?
Fye, fye! it is not well.—Hark, hark again!
Again it calls.—'Tis my Eunesia's Voice.
Æsc.
Indeed there's none; your Soul's the Sport of Fear;
These are the wild, disjointed Images
Of a desponding, a distemper'd Mind.
At such a time, broke loose from Reason's Ties,
The Fancy roves thro' various Scenes of Horror,
And sees in ev'ry Needle's Point, a Dagger.
Din.
Death is too proud an Enemy, I find,
And scorns to meet an unresisting Foe.
Here may he come, secure of no Repulse;
Each Fort surrend'ring, ev'ry Strength worn out;
And ev'n the Heart, the Cittadel of Life,
Tir'd of the factious Passions that distress it,
Opening with Joy to let the Victor in.
Enter Servant, with a Letter.
For me! ha! let me see: Just Gods! what's here?
Æsc.
O Heav'n, assist his Years to stand this Shock!
Din.
How's this? Confin'd! Imprison'd! all my Effects,
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What, made a Prey to Violence and Rapine?
Despoil'd of all? ha! Stay! why be it so!
Why shou'd I wish to 'scape alone unhurt?
Secure alone, when all is wreckt around me?
Æsc.
It pleases me to see you bear it thus.
Din.
Bear it! why Æschylus, when Virtue suffers,
Who wou'd not suffer too?
Æsc.
'Tis rightly judg'd.
Din.
I, and my Child, will go—Ha! what! my Child!
Must she too suffer with me? Must my Daughter!
My Heart's Delight! its Darling! my Eunesia!
Enter Eunesia.
Eun.
My Father! was it not your Voice I heard?
Mournful it seem'd, my Heart confest it yours.
It started at the Sound, like Men from Sleep,
Surpriz'd with an Alarm of Midnight Thieves,
And trembles 'till it knows that all is safe.
Din.
My lovely Girl! must thou be ruin'd too?
Eun.
Ruin'd! O no! I never can be ruin'd,
While I have you to bless me.
Din.
O my Heart!
Eun.
I shall be happy; we will both be happy:
New ways I'll study to divert your Cares,
To sooth your Grief, and calm your rising Sorrows.
When you are weary, and retire to Sleep,
I'll sit beside my dearest Father's Couch,
Talk to, and lull his troubled Soul to rest.
Din.
Wo't thou? oh!
Æsc.
Do not stifle in your Grief.
Speak! give your Passion vent.
Eun.
What is the Cause
Of this? will you not speak to me, my Father?
Din.
My Child! my Child!
Eun.
O speak to me!
Din.
I cannot.
My Passion boils, and bubbles in my Throat,
Choaks up, and stops the Passage of my Words.
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Misfortunes are from Heav'n. We must be patient.
Din.
Patient!—My Child, I am—yes, very patient.
Ha! am I not? I think I am—another
Wou'd have been distracted—O! So am I.
When will this lab'ring Heart lye down to rest?
Eun.
Regard your precious Health, think not of me.
Din.
Not think of thee! why thou art all my Care!
By Heav'n, had I been chain'd to a bleak Mountain,
Turn'd out a Wanderer, in a barren Desert;
Old as I am, I think I cou'd have born it,
'Till Death, the only Friend to Misery,
Had kindly set me Free:—But this—but this—
Eun.
But why is this? May I not know the Cause?
Din.
The Cause! ha! see it here.
Enter Officer and Guard.
Offi.
My Lord Dinarchus,
My Orders are to seize, and see you safe
Convey'd to Prison.
Eun.
Ha! to Prison! Wherefore?
Offi.
It is the King's Command.
Eun.
The King's? the Tyrant's.
Din.
We must submit.—Come, lead me to my Dungeon,
Shackle me down; yet ye shall find a Heart
Will rise disdainful of the Tyrant's Malice.
Mistaken Men! Betrayers of your Country!
By serving him, you make his Crimes your own.
Eun.
My Father! must you go?
Din.
Inhuman Tyrant!
To tear me thus from all my Soul delights in.
Offi.
My Orders are express—I've staid too long.
Din.
Be speedy then to execute your Charge;
A Moment's Stay will fix me here for ever.
Farewel, my Child; we must part, Eunesia.
Thy Piety will merit Heav'n's Defence.
To Heav'n and Æschylus I leave thee then.
Æsc.
I'll tend her with a Friend's, a Parent's Care.
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My Lord—
Din.
I go.—My Child—I cannot speak to thee.
Eun.
My Father!
Din.
Away—I follow thee.
[Exeunt.
SCENE draws and discovers the Senate.
Pry.
'Tis time, my Lords, to check the Rage of Slaughter.
This we can only by Submission do.
Enter Timoleon.
Timol.
May Corinth and her Senate live for ever.
Pry.
Timoleon, for thy Service with the Argians,
Thanks we decree thee.—Now, my noble Lords,
The Senate is assembl'd to confirm
The Sovereign Empire in Timophanes.
Lyc.
By this you claim, and merit his Protection;
And who so proper to protect you, Lords,
As he, whose Valour oft has sav'd your State?
Has he not fought your Foreign Wars with Glory?
Has he not often brought you Conquest home,
And kept Destruction at a distance from you?
Pry.
Be it decreed then to confirm him King!
Timol.
My honour'd Lords! what! shall we court the Yoke?
Sue to be Slaves? and bargain for our Bondage?
Is Life of such a Value? what! shall we,
The Guardians of our Liberties, betray 'em?
If you wou'd see your Country lye the Scene
Of Horror and Confusion; if the Cries
Of unoffending Misery delight you,
Tye your own Bonds, and league it with Oppression.
But I offend, my Lords.
1 Sen.
Go on, Timoleon.
Timol.
Have we forgot the Virtues of our Country?
Have we forgot her Glory, her Renown,
In rescuing Nations from oppressive Pow'r?
And shall we change for Infamy our Honour?
Our Liberty for Chains? Inglorious Choice!
The meanest Man who's Free, shou'd look with Pity
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Lyc.
Why wou'd Timoleon tear up thus again
His Country's Wounds?
Timol.
No, I wou'd heal 'em all,
Dry up each Tear, and soften ev'ry Sorrow.
Lyc.
Your Judgment, noble Lords, at once determines
Your Danger, or your Safety.
Timol.
Shame, or Honour.
Lyc.
Our Magistrates, some have already fallen,
While Vengeance hangs impending o'er the rest.
Timol.
And shou'd we fear to dye then? no, my Lords,
Life is an Infamy when Freedom's gone,
And Death becomes the Object of our Choice.
Lyc.
The Question is not for our Lives or Death,
But for our Country's Happiness or Ruin.
Resistance but provokes the Rage of Fate.
Prudence requires us then to own his Pow'r.
Who can withstand it? 'tis confirm'd so strong,
It looks with Scorn on all Attempts to shake it.
Timol.
Looks it with Scorn? Yet there are Gods above,
And while there are, let not our Doubts provoke 'em.
Vengeance is theirs, and Virtue is their Care.
Lyc.
The Sword unsheath'd in Wrath, no difference knows,
But preys alike on all.—Think on your Children,
Think with Compassion on 'em.
Timol.
Yes, my Lords.
Let them not blush at our ignoble Deeds,
And brand us as the Authors of their Woes.
Let not our Names in future Times be read
The common Curse, and Shame—let 'em not say
That Corinth fell by a Corinthian Senate.
Lyc.
This Zeal, which, tho' misguided, much I honour,
The World will think but Envy in Timoleon.
Timol.
Let it—While yet my conscious Soul acquits me;
22
How still I love him.—But, Timoleon's Voice
Shall never give a Sanction to his Crimes.
Lyc.
Is this a Brother's Part?
Timol.
'Tis a Corinthian's.
Lyc.
What! to oppose the Senate's general Vote?
Timol.
The World's, in such a Cause; the Cause of Freedom.
Lyc.
How ill Ambition brooks superior Pow'r!
Timol.
By all the Gods, and by this awful Senate,
If I once knew this Heart contain'd a Wish,
To reign an unconfin'd, a lawless Monarch,
I'd rip it up, to clear it from the Stain.
1 Sen.
Timoleon, thou alone deserv'st Command.
Timol.
Timoleon rather would be lov'd than fear'd.
Lyc.
Thus then, shall we decree? to vest the Crown
First in Timophanes, then to descend
Where Merit next demands it—to Timoleon.
Timol.
An Empire on the Fall of Virtue rais'd
Can have no Charms for me. What is the Treasure
Our Fathers toil'd to leave us? Liberty!
And shall we squander it away like Triflers?
Freedom! It is the richest Gift of Heav'n,
And shall we spurn it thus?
1 Sen.
Thou Glorious Youth!
Virtue revives in thee, and makes grey Hairs
Attentive to thy Wisdom.
Lyc.
Noble Lords—
1 Sen.
Lycander—
Lyc.
I am husht—I must submit.
With Grief I see the Senate blindly run
Thus to their Ruin—May the Gods avert it!
With your Permission, Lords, I wou'd retire.
[Exit.
Timol.
Let not a servile Fear unbend your Minds.
I will stand up betwixt you and Destruction,
The Torrent stem, or sink beneath its Fury.
I hold my Life but at my Country's Call.
1 Sen.
Thy Counsel, noble Youth, shall guide our Senate.
O thou hast sav'd us from eternal Shame.
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Let's rise, my Lords.
1 Sen.
Yes, rise with this Resolve:
To stand unshaken in our Love for Corinth,
Live with our Laws, or with our Laws expire.
[Exeunt Senators.
Timol.
Ye honour'd Shades, whose Names are Corinth's Boast!
Heroes and Patriots, the Renown of Greece!
Who liv'd with Glory, and for Freedom dy'd;
Attend, inspire, and fortify my Soul,
That I may keep your Actions still in View,
And steadily your shining Path pursue.
Each selfish Passion in my Breast dethrone,
And make the Cause of Liberty my own.
The End of the Second Act.
| Timoleon | |