University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

SCENE continues.
Enter Timoleon.
My Mother's Fate depends on this; she tells me,
That on the Verge of Life she trembling stands,
Ready to plunge into Eternity.
But then my Country! she's a Parent too,
And can I see Destruction preying on her?
See Lust and Rapine wanton in her Ruin?
See it unmov'd!—No, be thy self, my Soul.
Let not the Voice of Nature charm thy Virtue,
But stand up boldly to the Front of Pow'r,
And strike Oppression dead; Corinth demands it.

Enter Orthagoras.
Ort.
Timoleon, rise to save us and thy Country.
Fate is at work, the Tyrant's Friends are busy,
Whispering they meet, and threaten with their Smiles.
They smile but to destroy.

Timol.
We will prevent them.
Timophanes remov'd, we crush the Faction;
The Head once lopt, the Limbs will cease to move.

Enter Æschylus.
Æsc.
Timoleon, rise; assert our Liberty,
That Liberty, which with such ardent Zeal
Our Patriots have maintain'd; for this they fought,
For this they bled, and this we poorly lose;
Gasping it lies, and sues to thee for Life.

Timol.
Sues it to me! I'll save it, tho' I perish.
O Æschylus! Orthagoras! believe me,
My Soul akes for this Brother—he must fall.

Æsc.
Each Moment Fortune shoots her poison'd Shafts,
Points them at thee.—Must I encrease thy Sorrows?

Timol.
What is it? Speak, if it affects my Country,
So much I'm hers, her Sorrows all are mine:
If me alone, why speak, and I will bear it
As a Corinthian, who should only mourn
For Corinth's Miseries, for Corinth's Ruin.

Æsc.
Eunesia!

Timol.
What of her? Speak on, I beg thee,
My Spirits flutter at that dear lov'd Name,
Ready to take their Flight, if she's in Pain.

Æsc.
While soothing with her Smiles her aged Father,
The pious Fair was torn away—

Timol.
By whom?

Æsc.
Lycander.

Timol.
Ha! Lycander! righteous Gods!
But whither? know'st thou?

Æsch.
To the Tyrant's Palace.

Timol.
I'll fly to rescue her. In the mean Time,
Haste hence, my Æschylus, rouze up our Friends,
And animate their Souls with Hopes of Freedom.
Bid them be ready to assert their Laws,
Their Liberty.—Then meet us at the Temple.
Where you, Orthagoras, go, first prepare
A private Sacrifice to Jove supreme.
Let us by Offerings and by Prayers obtain
His Smiles on our Attempt.—'Tis an Attempt
For Life, or Death, for Chains, or Liberty.

SCENE II.

An Apartment in Timophanes's Palace.
Enter Timophanes.
Brav'd by a Boy! but he has met his Fate,
Met the Reward his Arrogance deserv'd.
Thus all, who dare but think to check my Power
Shall bleed for my Revenge—Timoleon too!
His Virtues awe me, but his Friends are strong:
The common Herd too dote upon his Follies.
To take him off, yet free me from the blame!
It must be thought on—Ha! by Heav'n he's here!

Enter Timoleon.
Timol.
Timophanes, not only as a Brother,
But as a Friend I come, an injur'd Friend.

Timop.
A Friend! 'tis true, thou canst profess so much,
Thou common Friend!

Timol.
To Innocence and Virtue
I would be one, and therefore am I come.
Where is Lycander? where that lurking Thief,
That basely robb'd Dinarchus of his Daughter?
That stole the only Jewel you had left him?
Where is Eunesia?

Timop.
Here, within these Walls,
Safe from thy Pow'r, and lodg'd with better Friends.

Timol.
Dar'st thou then own, avow such monstrous Crimes?
Thus triumph in variety of Ill?
And yet not shrink at every Lightning's Flash?

Timop.
I tell thee, I will justify my Deeds:
The Traitress has conspir'd against my Life.

Timol.
She! she conspire against thy Life! O! no,
Thou canst not tell how mild her Nature is.
Tho' thou hast wrong'd her Father, basely wrong'd him,
She only importun'd the Gods for him,
And scarce would curse the Author of his Woes.

Timop.
'Tis false. But be it as it may, I stand
Accountable unto my self alone.

Timol.
What! know'st thou not she is Timoleon's Love?
My late-contracted Bride? hast thou not heard
How much my Soul is wrapt up in Eunesia?

Timop.
Yes, well I know, she laughs at all thy Sighs.
True, she dissembles Love, but to secure
Joys more substantial, which Lycander gives.

Timol.
Inglorious Man! O! must I call thee Brother?
Thus to traduce such Innocence, such Truth!
Tho' all the Tongues of Malice join with thee,
They cannot fix one Spot upon her Fame,
Or make me doubt. The Empire of the World
She would despize, if offer'd for her Virtue.

Timop.
Since thou wilt dote on such a Toy as this,
Observe how far a Brother's Love will sway me.
This Instant I will give her to thy Arms,
With all those Joys, with all that Store of Beauty,
Thou fondly think'st she treasures up for thee.

Timol.
Haste then, and once I will confess thee just.

Timop.
But on these Terms; that strait thou own my Pow'r,
And join to strengthen it.

Timol.
What! turn a Traitor!
Basely betray my Country and my Honour!

Timop.
Your Honour! You may live encircl'd with it,
Enjoy your Love, and—

Timol.
Be a Villain! No.
'Tis Infamy to pause one Moment on it.
Tho' my Heart hangs and dotes upon her Beauties,
I would not buy her Life on such Conditions.

Timop.
Then to Lycander I resign her Charms:
Yes, thou shalt see. Lycander revel in 'em,
Shalt see him in her Arms.

Timol.
Distracting Thought!

Timop.
See him transfuse his Soul at every Kiss,
At every Kiss her tender Lips turn pale,
As angry to be prest; then blushing swell,
With eager Wishes to be prest again.
Shalt see him—

Timol.
No: The Gods above have Power,
Will save her Virtue, and avenge such Crimes.

Timop.
Leave her to them then, she will thank thy Care.

Timol.
O my Eunesia! how shall I preserve thee?

Timop.
Ha! Yes, while he is here,—it shall be done.
Where is Lycander? in the Grove, perhaps!
Pheron and he.—True, I will seek him there,
The Time presents it self—I'll seize it then,
And fix my Empire in Timoleon's Death.

[Aside.
[Exit Timophanes.
Timol.
Can I resign thee? yet, 'tis for a Cause
The noblest,—'tis a Cause,—resign thee!—ha!
Eunesia, now, I will secure thy Safety.
But how!—What Shriek is that! it sounded faintly
As in a distant Chamber. I'll fly, and,—Heav'ns! what's here!
[As he is going out, sees a dead Body in the next Room, starts back in surprize.
Distraction to my sight! a Woman! bloody!
Drest like Eunesia! Dead! heart-racking Sight!
My Blood is cold as Death had check'd its Passage.
Another Look will stiffen me to Marble.
Dead, my Eunesia! what can Fate do more!
Again that Shriek! is Murther busy still?
But I will stop its Rage. O my Eunesia!

[Exit.

SCENE III.

The Scene draws and discovers Lycander and Eunesia, who struggles to get from him.
Lyc.
Come, come, this ling'ring but provokes Desire,
And Expectation keeps me on the Rack.

Eun.
O Sir! if Fame has any Charms to please,
If Virtue is not quite effac'd within you,
If e'er your Soul could know what Pity was,
By Pity, Virtue, and by Fame I beg,
Nay, by your Love, if ever yet you lov'd.

Lyc.
If ever yet I lov'd! Yes, yes, Eunesia,
I love to all the extravagance of doting:
I sicken for thy Charms, thy wondrous Charms!
Come then, my Fair,—And thou art fair, by Heav'n!
What Eyes are there?—How pointed is each Glance!
O they are Calls to Love.—Those heaving Breasts,
They beat Alarms to Joy.

Eun.
Detested Wretch!
Are there no pitying Gods will deign to save me!

Lyc.
The Gods may envy, not prevent my Joys.
In vain you plead, your Anger has its Charms,
Fires me a-new, and urges on to Conquest.
Comply then.

Eun.
No: To Death I will resist.
And welcome Death, that frees me from your Power.

Lyc.
Death! yes; but thou shalt dye within these Arms,
Shalt dye away in Raptures.

Eun.
Hence, thou Monster!
What can I say? my Soul is all Distraction,
Lost in the Whirlwind of my Fears. Ye Gods!
Look down, avenge me on this brutal Ruffian:
Seize him, ye Fiends, and bear him hence to Torments
Hot as his Soul.

Lyc.
And dost thou curse me then?

Eun.
Curse you! may all—

Lyc.
'Tis well.

Eun.
O no, forgive,
Forgive this frantick Rage; forget, disdain,
Abandon, hate, do any thing but love.

Lyc.
Hate thee! impossible! I feel thee here,
Pant in my Heart, and revel thro' my Veins.
Hate thee!

Eun.
I beg, O! on my Knees, I beg,
Forbear a Violence, that sinks me down
Below the meanest Wretch. O spurn me, kill me,
But do not kill my Fame.

Lyc.
O, rise! 'tis I, 'tis I alone must kneel:
In softest Accents whisper your Consent,
O breathe it gently as a Western Breeze,
To allay the Fury of a Noonday's Sun.

Eun.
No, Monster; here for ever will I lye,
Nor shall you drag me hence.

Lyc.
Nay, then I must.
By Pow'r I'll bear you to your Happiness,
By Force—

Eun.
Distraction! Heav'n! help me, some God!

[Just as he has drag'd her towards the Door,
Enter Timoleon.
Timol.
Ha! Villian! impious Ruffian! loose your Hold.
[They Fight. Eunesia rises and stands trembling. Lycander falls.
Perish, thou Villain! and thy Name for ever!
Eunesia!—My Soul!

Eun.
My Love!

Timol.
How my Heart bounds with Joys before unknown,
To find thee safe, and think that I have sav'd thee!

Eun.
O my Timoleon! yet I tremble still,
With Fear I view the Storm I have escap'd,
And scarce can think I'm safe.

Timol.
Yes, my Delight!
Here in these Arms thou shalt be ever safe;
Shalt ever find a Refuge from thy Cares.

Eun.
Will not this justify my Passion for thee?
It will; and I will love thee to that height,
That the most tender of my Sex shall wonder,
And think my Love romantick.—Were Mankind,
Were they like thee, how happy were our Sex!
Each She, delighted with her generous Lord,
Would quit her Vanity, her Pride, her Folly,
And fix her every Joy in him alone.

Timol.
Thou Flatterer!—but hold! is this a Place,
A Time for Love?—No,—my Eunesia, no,
This Softness must not steal me from the Care
Of Liberty and Corinth.

Eun.
O Timoleon!
What Dangers are you meditating now!
May I not know it? what is thy Design?

Timol.
'Tis a Design thy Virtue will approve.

Eun.
My Father!

Timol.
'Tis for him and Liberty.

Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Fly hence, my Lord; fly with the fair Eunesia.

Timol.
Ha! Who art thou?

Serv.
A Servant of the King's:
Not of his Cruelty.

Timol.
Ægon!

Serv.
The same, my Lord.

Timol.
My Father's trusty Ægon.
I thought thee honest.

Serv.
So will I prove my self.
I came resolv'd to free the fair Eunesia,
Or fall in the Attempt. Olinthus—

Timol.
Well.

Ser.
Is dead, my Lord.

Timol.
Dead!

Serv.
Yes, kill'd by the King.

Timol.
Thou brave, thou virtuous Youth! Dead, my Olinthus!
Thy Fate requires more Tears than Time allows.

Serv.
Struck with Amaze and Horror at his Death,
The lovely, fair Cleone—

Timol.
Ha! Go on.

Serv.
Plunging a Poniard in her lovely Breast,
Cry'd out, My Brother!—Yes, to Death I follow.
Now, Tyrant, sate thy Thirst of Blood with mine.

Eun.
Is she dead too?

Serv.
Too fatal was the Stroke.
In yond' Apartment lies the bleeding Victim.

Timol.
I thought 'twas thee, my Love; distrustful Thought!
To think that any Power on Earth can hurt,
When Heav'n has made thee its distinguish'd Care.

Eun.
My Heart sinks down, spite of my boasted Courage,
And tells me, where Timoleon's Life's concern'd,
I am a Woman still.—The Gods preserve thee!
Heaven, for its Votary, will surely rise,
For the World's Sake, preserve its noblest Prize:
First, in the Patriot's List, thy Name shall shine.
The Gain be Corinth's, and the Glory thine!

[Exeunt.
Enter Timophanes, with Attendants.
Timop.
What, no where to be found! Where then is Pheron?
Go, seek him out; be gone. Ha! Who is this?
The Garment of Lycander! Yes, 'tis he.
Why have the envious Gods thus torn thee from me?
My Life's Companion! and my Throne's Support!
Ill can I spare thee now.—Within our Chamber!
Dare Treason enter there? Damnation! Pheron!
Enter Pheron.
Behold, your Friend lies welt'ring in his Blood!
Who was the Cause of this?

Phe.
My Lord, I know not.

Timop.
Find out the Murd'rer.—By my Crown I swear,
With Racks, with Tortures, I'll repay his Death!

Phe.
Unless Timoleon—

Timop.
Ha!

Phe.
Timoleon, Sir.

Timop.
Say'st thou?—Furies and Plagues! it must be he.

Phe.
This Instant, as I enter'd here, I met him
Conducting out a Woman veil'd.

Timop.
Eunesia!

Phe.
So I believe, my Lord.

Timop.
Retire, and leave us.
[Exeunt Attendants.
What would'st thou, Pheron, to avenge thy Friend?

Phe.
I'd stab your Brother; at the Altar, stab him,
Before his Gods.

Timop.
'Tis just; nor shall they save him.

Phe.
This Morn, I hear, he offers Sacrifice,
In private too.

Timop.
Fly to the Temple then;
From Danger, in Timoleon, free thy King,
And thou shalt be my Counsellor, my Friend
I soon will follow to support thee. [Ex. Phe.]
So.
If Pheron kills him, 'twill be thought Revenge,
Revenge for his Friend's Death. I can disclaim it,
Nay, punish Pheron, to appease the People.
Then, in Security I'll fix my Throne,
And still the little Tempest, by a Frown.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

A Temple, with an Altar. Orthagoras, and other Priests, stand by it.
A Solemn Service of Musick.
Ort.
Almighty Sire! Parent of Gods and Men!
Attend propitious to thy Servants Prayers!

Enter Timoleon.
Timol.
Almighty Sire! Parent of Gods and Men!
Jove Eleutherius! Liberty's Assertor!
Attend, propitious to thy Servant's Prayers!
Accept these Offerings for my Country's Freedom.

[Goes up to the Altar, and makes his Offering.
Ort.
That pious Youth! Ages unborn shall wonder,
When they shall read upon Record his Name,
Who, in his Bloom, scarce ripen'd into Man,
Can thus neglect his Love, contemn his Ease,
And make the Interest of Mankind his own.

Enter Pheron.
Phe.
Revenge, I now will make thee sure; he kneels.

Timol.
[After Offering, kneels, with one Hand on the Altar.]
O thou supreme Disposer of our Fates!
In thee I trust; O, guide me by thy Light!
That I may merit thy Protection here,
By giving Peace and Liberty to Corinth.

[As Pheron's Hand is advanc'd to stab Timoleon, he is kill'd by Dinarchus in Disguise, who enters at that Minute.
Phe.
This for my Friend Lycander.

Din.
No, thou Villain;
Here end thy Murthers, and thy Life together.

Timol.
[Starting up.]
What Noise is this? What means this Outrage? Ha!
Will Murder enter here? Who, who art thou?
That thus hast dar'd to stain this Place with Blood?
Yet stand'st thus calm, and unappall'd? Who art thou?

Din.
Heav'n's Instrument, to punish base Assassins.

Timol.
Assassins!

Din.
Yes; such is the Wretch lies there.

Timol.
Pheron!

Din.
The same. Up-lifted was his Arm,
Ready to plunge that Poniard in thy Breast;
But Heav'n, Timoleon, watchful for thy Welfare,
Sent me to save thee; and in thee, my Country.

Ort.
But who art thou? Thy Country's Thanks are thine,

Din.
View me, and know me for—

Timol.
Dinarchus! Ha!
Is't possible? My Friend! My Father too!

Din.
Eunesia then is safe?

Timol.
Yes, Sir, she is.
Much she has suffer'd, but the Tale's too long.
For O! my Soul works busily within
To know what Pow'r your Freedom has procur'd.

Din.
My Jaylor, of a Temper mild and good,
(Who, as a Man, can pity what Men feel,
And scorns to trade in the Afflicted's Tears)
Was mov'd by my Distress, and on a Promise,
Soon to return, and keep my self disguis'd,
Permitted my Escape.—Strait to the Tyrant's
I bent my Steps, resolv'd to see my Daughter;
When passing by the Temple, I perceiv'd
That base, that bloody Pheron ent'ring in.
Wild at the Sight, with animated Rage
I follow'd him.—The Rest his Death declares.

Tim.
Thine is the Work, O Jove! be thine the Praise!

[Coming to the Altar.
Enter Æschylus.
Æsc.
The Time, Timoleon, calls for our Dispatch.
Our Friends are up, impatient for their Freedom,
Panting for Liberty. Some I have posted
To keep a watch upon the Tyrant's Creatures,
Others are waiting at convenient distance,
In little Parties, to prevent Suspicions,
And ready for the Word.

Tim.
Strait will I head them,
And lead them on to Liberty or Death,
For what is Life without it? Liberty!
My Soul burns in me at the glorious Call.

Æsc.
A Spy I have within the Tyrant's Palace,
Who brings me Word he's coming to the Temple,
With Rage indignant for some late Affront,
He threats Destruction at each Look around.

Din.
Here is he coming! unattended too!
Here let us slay him then.

Tim.
What! here, Dinarchus!
Shall we defile this holy Fane with Blood!
More Blood? and bring Pollution to the Altar?
Let us love Corinth, yet revere the Gods.
Let us not tempt the wrathful Bolts of Jove,
By turning to a Slaughter-house his Temple.

Ort.
Timoleon, no: Heav'n will approve the Deed.
What can we offer to the Gods, more pleasing
Than base Usurpers, Foes to them and Virtue?
What can we sacrifice to Jove more proper,
Than Lust, Injustice, Cruelty, and Rapine?
One Tyrant's Blood is a more grateful Off'ring
Than thousand Hecatombs.—And hark! the Thunder
[It Thunders.
Rowls from the Right, auspicious is the Omen,
Jove we accept it, Jove confirms my Words.

Tim.
But yet, my Friends, let me in this prevail;
Yet try with me the power of soft Perswasion.
If he is deaf to this, I give him up;
Strike then for Liberty, not for Revenge.
Think he's a Tyrant, but remember too,
He is Timoleon's Brother.—See, he comes.

Enter Timophanes.
Timop.
Ha! is he living: Pheron, thou art false.

Timol.
I hope, Timophanes, thou com'st prepar'd
To expiate thy Offences by Contrition.
Suppliant to beg Forgiveness of the Gods,
For all the Wrongs, thy injur'd Country suffers.

Timop.
Thou Talker! hence, and mingle with thy Priests!
Thou art a Tool, fit for their mean Designs,
Unworthy of Ambition's nobler Views.

Timol.
If nothing but Command will gratify thee,
Command thy Country's Armies—not her Laws.
Art thou so fond of Triumph? Triumph then
Over her Foes, not o'er her Liberties.

Timop.
Thou Preacher! go—practise thy Eloquence
On Fools; they will admiring listen to thee,
And give thee the Applause thou want'st.

Æsc.
Will nothing,
Nothing then sooth the Fierceness of thy Mind?
Nothing prevail on thee to close the Wounds
Of thy poor bleeding Country? will not Virtue?—

Timol.
Will not the Voice of Nature? will not Honour?
Will not the Prayer of Man?

Ort.
Nor fear of Heaven?

Timop.
Ha! what, another? am I to be baited?—
But ye shall find a Lion in the Toils.

Ort.
Full of thy Fate, Timophanes, I speak,
Hear the Decree of Heav'n.

Timoph.
Away, thou Dreamer!
Hence with thy idle Prophecies! Nor thou,
Nor all thy Gods, shall make me change my Purpose.
In vain your Omens, vain are all your Threats,
Their Pow'r is lost on me! Still I'm my self,
Timophanes, your Lord.

Ort.
I tell thee yet,
The Gods uplifted Vengeance hangs impending,
Ready to fall, and crush thee into Ruin.
O! think what certain Woes will be thy Doom,
When waiting Furies and surrounding Fiends
Shall heighten all the Horrors of thy Mind.

Timop.
Since thou hast found thy talking was in vain,
Bring'st thou thy Friends to preach me from my Power,
My Royalty!

Timol.
Thy ill-got Royalty,
Thy Power assum'd, not giv'n; thy Usurpation:
Think of the dreadful Cares in which it lives.

Æsc.
Think to what Fears, what Dangers 'tis expos'd.

Ort.
Think of the Infamy it leaves behind.

Timol.
What are its Pleasures? They are Cankers all.

Æsc.
What are its Trophies, but the Tears of Virtue?

Din.
What are its Titles? Parricide, and Tyrant!

Timop.
Ha! who art thou? But I will bend ye all,
Will make ye know, and own me for your King.

Ort.
Thou see'st 'tis all in vain.

[Aside to Timoleon.
Timol.
A Minute longer.
Yet see, Timophanes, behold these Tears,
They fall for thee.

Timop.
Thou Woman! I despise them,
As I do thee.

Timol.
I beg thee, I conjure thee,
Make some Atonement to thy suffering Country,
Yet do it while 'tis in our Power to save thee.

Timop.
Your Power to save me! By my Majesty,
The Wrongs you offer it you shall repent,
Shall all repent. Rouze up then, my Revenge.

Timol.
I beg thee, by a Brother's Love.

Timop.
Away,
Thou servile Fawner! hang not on my Robe.
Think'st thou I'm to be soften'd like a Girl,
By Tears, by Prayers? Timophanes, at these,
As well as Dangers, stands alike unmov'd.

Timol.
By Friendship!

Timop.
Hence!

Timol.
By Glory!

Æsc.
By Virtue!

Timol.
By thy Country!

Ort.
By the Gods!

Timol.
We do conjure thee, save thy self and Corinth.

Timop.
Be gone, or by the Fire within my Breast
'Twill rage to your undoing. Hence! or else
This Instant is your Death.

Ort.
Can nothing move thee?

Æsc.
Is all in vain?

Timol.
I give thee to thy Fate.
Liberty! Freedom!—O Timophanes!

[Here Timoleon throws his Mantle over his Face, while the others dispatch Timophanes.
Din.
Liberty!

Æsc.
Freedom!

Ort.
Corinth now is free.

Din.
Tyranny bleeds, Oppression is no more.
Such ever be the Fate of lawless Power!
Such be the Fate of Violence and Rapine!

Ort.
Such ever be the Fate of bold Usurpers!

Æsc.
Such be the Fate of Parricides and Tyrants!

Ort.
Ambition, thou art fallen. Remove the Body.
His Crimes and Corinth's Woes be bury'd with him.
Support Timoleon. View that Godlike Youth,
Who weeps the Brother, tho' he slew the Tyrant.
See what he bears for Virtue and his Country!
O let us emulate his great Example!
May we like him all Self-Affection scorn,
Think we are only for our Country born!
When Freedom calls, forget the Ties of Blood,
And fix our Interest in the public Good.

[Exeunt Omnes.