University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE, A sea-port.
Enter Cherinthus, Cephisa, and Attendants.
CEPHISA.
What means this sadness, prince? With silent gaze
You look and sigh, and if with friendly speech
I urge your converse, when you seem prepar'd
To tell me much, your fault'ring tongue is mute.
Where is your wonted chearfulness? the grace
That season'd your discourse? Are you in Thrace
The same Cherinthus that I knew in Phrygia?
Or is it thus, with melancholy looks,
You Thracians to her lord conduct a bride?

CHERINTHUS.
If my afflictions bear a sad presage,
On me, fair princess, every evil fall:
My stars can little add to griefs like mine,
Nor breathes a wretch so hopeless as Cherinthus.

CEPHISA.
And claims Cephisa then so little share
In your esteem! The time has been—

CHERINTHUS.
Forgive
This cold reserve—and yet believe me, fair-one,
There is a something here commands my silence.

CEPHISA.
'Tis true, I am a woman, and your secret
Were ill confided to our sex's weakness.
I urge no further—lead me to the palace.

CHERINTHUS.
Yet hear—those eyes like light'ning pierce my soul,
And all my firm resolves are lost before them.
O! turn, Cephisa, and with gentler looks
Unbend those brows, while trembling I confess,
'Tis thou hast robb'd me of my peace—I gaze
With rapture on thy matchless charms; I own
My love is fruitless all, that these fond wishes
Would grasp they know not what: I know that death
Alone can end my pains.

CEPHISA.
What means Cherinthus!

CHERINTHUS.
I knew too well I should offend—And yet
The faults of love—

CEPHISA.
Forbear—I'll hear no more.—
Is this the brother of Timanthes? This
The prince deputed by the Thracian king?
And is it thus Cherinthus thinks to guard
That faith a brother and a father claim?

CHERINTHUS.
I own my crime—I know that every tie
Of son and brother should forbid my passion.
Why was I only singled my Demophoon,
To bring thee to Timanthes? Could I view
Thy charms, and yet resist?—I saw and lov'd.
Each day beheld me near thee, while the name
Of kinsman gave a license to my tongue;
Nor did this name alone deceive the world,
I was deceiv'd myself—that love, which made
Me sigh for ever for Cephisa's presence,
Appear'd but duty, and a thousand times
I thought to paint the affections of a brother,
While my too eager speech betray'd my own.

CEPHISA.
[aside.]
Alas! 'twas not in vain—Cephisa too
Perceiv'd a something she would fain disown.

CHERINTHUS.
And yet sometimes I felt a flattering hope:
Methought I oft observ'd a tender sigh
Steal from thy breast, view'd in thy eyes a softness
That seem'd much more than friendship—

CEPHISA.
Hold, Cherinthus,
Thou dost begin to abuse my easy nature.
It ill befits the daughter of Nicanor,
Affianc'd to Timanthes, heir of Thrace,
To hear with calmness these injurious vows,
At once destructive to her peace and fame.

CHERINTHUS.
Forgive me, princess, and I will obey;
Thou shalt no more reproach my daring love,
Injurious to thy glory—Spite of all
The pangs that rend my heart, conviction's force
Dwells in thy words, and I'll no more offend.
No, I will strive to wear the face of joy,
And kindly bless my happier brother's fate.
Enter Timanthes.
Welcome, Timanthes, to thy native land,
Fame, the loud harbinger of thy approach,
Has rous'd each Thracian son to hail thy presence,
And I but join the common voice.

TIMANTHES.
Receive
In this embrace my thanks—but say, Cherinthus,
Is this the royal fair one who forsakes
Her country's gentle seat to visit Thrace,
And with her beauties gild our rougher clime?

CHERINTHUS.
It is—Behold, while others with applause
Congratulate thy fortune, what a treasure
Thy brother brings, to give thee every blessing
That love and beauty can bestow.—

TIMANTHES.
Her looks
Bespeak perfection—Let Timanthes then,
Imperial virgin, greet thy save arrival
From Phyrgia's happy shore—Vouchsafe awhile,
Cherinthus, to retire apart—my thoughts
Revolve some secret of import, that claims
The princess' ear alone.

CHERINTHUS.
I shall obey.
What can this mean? But wherefore ask, or what
Avails their converse to the lost Cherinthus?

[walks aside.
TIMANTHES.
How shall Timanthes, beauteous princess, dress
His thoughts in apt expression? I should now
Pour forth the raptures of a heart, decreed
To excellence like yours—but O! there is
Fatality in man, and oft when Heaven
Holds out an unexpected blessing to us,
Some mystery forbids—

CEPHISA.
What would the prince?
Let not Timanthes seek the low disguise
Of art, the refuge of ignoble minds,
But boldly, as he meets his foes in battle,
Speak out his secret soul.

TIMANTHES.
The statesman oft
Joins with the specious plea of public good
Two hearts averse: our parents have decreed
An union to thyself perhaps ungrateful.
Thy virtues might demand the noblest heart;
But fate forbids us ever to unite:
There is a bar which nothing can surmount:
My father knows it not, nor must I speak it;
Refuse, refuse me then, enlarge my faults,
And thus preserve thy fame, my peace and life!

CEPHISA.
'Tis well—my lord—

TIMANTHES.
I see the conscious pride
Of greatness rising on thy cheek—my presence
But adds to your displeasure—my Cherinthus,
The care be thine, with every mark of honour,
Such as may suit her station and desert,
To lead from hence the princess to the palace.

[Exit.
CEPHISA.
What have I heard! Is this the boasted youth
Whom fame extols for gallantry and arms!
And is it thus he treats a virgin, sprung
From Phrygia's scepter'd kings!—neglected! Heavens!
And shall I tamely bear this outrage?

CHERINTHUS.
coming forward.]
Princess,
What indignation rises in your breast?
Your looks are chang'd—has then my brother—

CEPHISA.
Yes,
I see your mutual purpose to betray me:
Was it for this I left my native land,
Left the lov'd arms of an indulgent father,
To meet with insult on this foreign shore!
To bear unmov'd the injury that waits
Cherinthus' passion, and his brother's scorn?
But if Demophoon—

Enter Adrastus.
ADRASTUS.
To the fair Cephisa,
Our sovereign wishes health; the Thracian palace,
Adorn'd with every pomp, expects your presence;
Demophoon now, as annual rites require,
Sequester'd with the priests till morning dawn,
Invokes the powers divine; mean while he sends
By me to pay the tribute of respect
Your rank demands, and to conduct you hence
Where suppliant crowds attend with duteous zeal,
To pay their homage to their future queen.

CEPHISA.
I thank thee, lord—Cephisa hopes no less
From great Demophoon and her father's friend.
Cherinthus, let us hence—but still remember
Thy plighted word; for know, whatever chance
Subjects Cephisa to unlook'd-for insult,
Yet nothing from her mind can e'er erase,
Such thoughts as fit the daughter of a king.

[Exeunt.
SCENE changes to the garden.
Ismena
alone.
What would my fate!—But now Mathusius bade me
Prepare for flight—and whither must I fly?
What region will receive forlorn Ismena
To end her wretched life!—O! my Olinthus,
Must I forsake thy innocence, forsake
My much lov'd lord without one parting look!
I sicken at the thought—

Enter Timanthes.
TIMANTHES.
What new distress
Hangs o'er my love! tho' distant from thy sight
My sympathizing spirit mourn'd with thee,
And whisper'd that thy sorrow claim'd my aid.

ISMENA.
O! no—thy cares are vain—leave, leave me then
Alone to perish—the big tempest swells
That soon must hide me from thy sight for ever.

TIMANTHES.
What means Ismena!

ISMENA.
I must quit Timanthes,
Manthusius warns me hence—but now he left me,
Some dreadful purpose labouring in his breast:
Yet 'ere we part, to thy paternal care
I here commend my child; for me embrace him,
Give him this kiss, and when this ripening age
Can feel compassion, tell him all my story.

TIMANTHES.
It must not be—Timanthes with the wings
Of love shall fly, o'ertake thy fleeting peace
And bring her back to her forsaken home.
Soon as the morning dawns I'll seek the king,
With filial reverence clasp his honour'd knees:
Doubt not, my love, but all shall yet be well!

Enter Mathusius.
MATHUSIUS.
My daughter, let us haste—art thou Timanthes,
Son of Demophoon? Let me gaze awhile;
These features once bespoke thee kind and brave,
Till now I ever held thee such—but say,
Is not injustice stamp'd upon thy nature,
And all thy father in thy heart—O! no,
Thou'rt still the same—yes, I had sought thee, prince,
Thy old Mathusius, once rever'd, in thee
Had vested every hope—but now 'tis past—

ISMENA.
Alas! my father, must Ismena then
For ever load a parent's breast with anguish?
Am I th'unhappy cause—

MATHUSIUS.
Now hear, Timanthes,
And if thou ever held'st Mathusius dear,
Thy generous breast will feel a father's pangs,
A father, whom the rage of tyrant power
Pursues to ruin—O! my child, my child!

TIMANTHES.
Mathusius, speak—Has then Ismena's name
Been drawn to-morrow's victim?

MATHUSIUS.
No—Demophoon
Has doom'd her life a guiltless sacrifice
Without the sentence of the fatal urn.

TIMANTHES.
Condemn'd to die, the lots of death undrawn,
All-powerful Gods!—

ISMENA.
O sir! weep not for me,
I merit not the tears that stain those cheeks,
Too deep they enter here—no, let me bear
Affliction's pressure, till the fainting sense
Sink with its anguish, so I may, retir'd
From mortal eyes, indulge my griefs alone,
Nor bend that hoary head to earth with sorrow.

TIMANTHES.
It cannot be—Mathusius, thou'rt deceiv'd—
How couldst thou kindle thus the king's resentment
Against her helpless life?

MATHUSIUS.
Because I sought
To exclude Ismena from the lots of fate,
Because I durst produce his own example:
But now I met him near the temple's porch,
Encompass'd by the priests; with all the warmth
Of a fond father trembling for his child,
I urg'd, entreated—but in vain—the king
Beheld me with an haughty eye; enrag'd
My tongue reproach'd the monarch's partial voice
That to his subjects, prodigal of death,
Gave to the bloody knife our Thracian virgins,
While kept at distance from the suffering land,
His own Arsene shunn'd the fatal stroke.

ISMENA.
I tremble for th'event—not for myself,
But thee, Ismena fears—Ah! wherefore, sir,
Would you for me rashly incense a power
Which sovereigns, ever jealous, still defend?
What answer made the king?

MATHUSIUS.
His indignation
Repress'd within himself, found little vent
In words—at length—“presumptuous man, (he cry'd)
“Soon shalt thou feel that still Demophoon knows
“How to avenge affronted majesty.”
Then turning from me swift, the temple gates
Receiv'd and shut him from my sight—since when
I've heard that secret orders have been given
To seize Ismena.

TIMANTHES.
Ha!—direct me Heaven,
What now befits Timanthes—

[Aside.
ISMENA.
Yes, it dawns!
The work of fate now opens to my view,
And all must be reveal'd—be firm, my soul,
And nobly meet the trial.

[Aside.
TIMANTHES.
Is it possible!
In this extreme what course remains?

MATHUSIUS.
Beside
The clifted rock, mann'd with a chosen few
And trusty servants, rides a bark prepar'd
With secret care, that will convey us hence,
To some far distant hospitable clime,
Where 'tis not criminal to be a father.

TIMANTHES.
It must not be—O sir!—

MATHUSIUS.
What means Timanthes?

TIMANTHES.
Ismena must not quit the Thracian shore—

MATHUSIUS.
Not quit the Thracian shore!—now by yon' powers
That sit in judgment o'er a father's wrongs,
No human breath shall stay us—haste, my daughter,
Prepare this instant to depart—

TIMANTHES.
Distraction!
And shall I then permit—Mathusius, hear,
Urge not my temper further—well thou know'st
My soul has ever held thee as her best,
Her earliest guide—if I oppose thee now—

MATHUSIUS.
Is this thy love? Would'st thou forbid a father
To save his only child from cruel death?

TIMANTHES.
O no!—thou canst not tell how dear I prize
Her safety here—come danger in her worst,
Her ugliest form, this breast shall meet the dart
That threats Ismena.

MATHUSIUS.
We but waste the time
That, with destruction wing'd, unheeded flies:
Away, my daughter—

TIMANTHES.
Not th'united force
Of earth shall bear her hence—

MATHUSIUS.
Nay then, the sword
Shall vindicate the rights a father claims.

ISMENA.
Hold, sir, and hear Ismena—O! Mathusius,
Dost thou not see some secret labouring here
Too big for speech—thou claim'st a father's right,
And sacred is that claim, but yet beware,
Nor let the hasty sword, with thoughtless rage,
Invade a right more sacred than your own.
The prince—how shall I speak?

MATHUSIUS.
What new alarm
Runs thro' my soul!—Is't possible!

TIMANTHES.
My father,
For such thou art—think not thy breast can feel
Severer anguish for Ismena's danger
Than what a husband feels—

MATHUSIUS.
Her husband!

TIMANTHES.
Yes,
She is, she is my wife—then judge, Mathusius,
If I could bear, without the sharpest pang,
To see her torn for ever from my sight.

MATHUSIUS.
Ah! prince, what hast thou done! thy cruel love
Has fill'd the measure of Mathusius' woes.
Thou most unkind! Is this the recompense,
Awaits my suffering age?—Unhappy girl!
To tye the fatal knot that ends in death!

ISMENA.
Here prostrate at your feet, permit me now
To own the fault excess of love inspir'd:
And yet you can forgive; for if I read
Those looks aright, resentment dwells not there:
Nor will I plead the virtues of the prince,
Tho' these, my lord, were oft your lip's fond theme,
While under covert of yon' arching shade,
I drank, with greedy ears, his grateful praise.

MATHUSIUS.
No more, my child—O! I forgive thee all—
But dangers thicken round, these nuptials known,
The rigid law shall seal thee for destruction,
And mock a father's sorrows.

TIMANTHES.
No, Mathusius,
By every future hour of hop'd-for peace,
My life shall be her safe-guard.

Enter Officer and Guard.
Officer.
Pardon, sir,
If, with reluctance, I obey the charge
My sovereign gives—Guards, bear Ismena hence.

MATHUSIUS.
What means this violence?

ISMENA.
The lost is cast;
Come every spirit that has fir'd my sex,
Thro' the long records of succeeding time,
To dare, beyond the softness of our kind,
Now steel my thoughts—my fortune claims it all!
So may'st thou own, my father, though one fond
Unguarded hour betray'd my yielding soul,
Yet shall the sufferings of this awful day,
The little span of life that fate allows,
Atone for every error.

TIMANTHES.
Death to hear!
Unhand her, slaves!

MATHUSIUS.
Age has not yet unnerv'd
This arm so far—

Officer.
Forbear—If either moves
To give her aid, this dagger drinks her blood—

TIMANTHES.
Inhuman villian! hold—

Officer.
The royal mandate
Shall justify my deeds—Away.

ISMENA.
Yet stay,
A moment's pause—still, still, the woman here
Is struggling in my breast—my father—Oh—
I dare no further—

[looking at Timanthes.
MATHUSIUS.
Speak—

ISMENA.
Think not, Mathusius,
Though black adversity now folds me round,
That aught of anguish for myself can shake
Thy daughter's mind—No! I could bear it all!
But when we view the pangs of those we love,
The firmest temper shrinks, and even the tear
Of weakness then is virtue—Gracious heaven!
Protect, defend—I would, but must not speak—
Ye powers! who read my thoughts, supply the prayer
I cannot utter, and, whate'er her doom,
At least, in those she loves, preserve Ismena!

[Exit guarded.
Timanthes, Mathusius.
TIMANTHES.
O! give me patience, Gods!

MATHUSIUS.
Earth opens not,
Nor light'nings fly to punish such injustice!
And shall we say Jove watches o'er mankind!
Timanthes, speak—for we are now united
In bands of wretchedness.

TIMANTHES.
Go, good Mathusius,
And learn the place to which they bear Ismena,
For should I strive in vain to appease my father,
Yet love shall point the way—

MATHUSIUS.
No—every hope
Is now extinct, and black despair shuts up
The gloomy prospect.

TIMANTHES.
Can the son in vain
Plead with a father for his life, his all!
O! 'tis a cause will call down every soft
Propitious power that feels for human sufferings,
To heal the anguish of a parent's breast,
To calm a lover's and a husband's pains,
To arrest the hand of fate, and save Ismena!