University of Virginia Library

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.