 | Timanthes |  |
45
ACT IV.
SCENE, The palace.Cherinthus, Cephisa, meeting.
CHERINTHUS.
I've sought, but cannot find him, yet I fear
The worst from his ungovern'd warmth—but say,
Cephisa, hast thou pleaded with the king?
Could he refuse thy suit?
CEPHISA.
Demophoon, fix'd
In his resentment, with averted ear
Rejects the voice of pity—Hark! what noise!—
CHERINTHUS.
A second louder yet—Ha! or I dream,
It thickens from the temple's hallow'd grove;
Adrastus comes disorder'd from the fane:
Gods! what presaging horror chills my soul!
Enter Adrastus.
ADRASTUS.
Where's, where's the king?
CHERINTHUS.
What means Adrastus! whence
Those looks of fear!
ADRASTUS.
The rites were now prepar'd,
And nought was wanting but Demophoon's presence,
When, with a desperate band, the prince Timanthes
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With daring footsteps thro' the sacred dome,
Drove from the altar's foot the affrighted priests,
And seiz'd the victim—then while fell distraction
Storm'd with unlicens'd rage, I left the temple,
And flew to bear the tidings to the king,
Who best may quell this tumult.
[Exit.
CEPHISA.
Wherefore stands
Cherinthus thus, when now his brother's life
Hangs on the brink of fate?
CHERINTHUS.
Alas! Cephisa,
I tremble at the thought—what shall I do?
Instruct me, heaven, I'll to yon scene of terror,
And prove what yet remains to save Timanthes!
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE, outside view of a magnificent temple dedicated to Apollo; a flight of steps ascending to it;—clashing of swords is heard.—Ismena, in the greatest agitation, descends from the temple, and looks up towards Timanthes with the utmost fear and astonishment.
ISMENA.
Where shall I fly!—Night, stretch thy blackest wings
And hide us from mankind!—O! horror, horror!
What demon urg'd this more than frantic deed!
My love—Timanthes—Is there yet in heaven
One pitying God that hears—on me, on me!
Now let your justice fall—but spare Timanthes!
O most unhappy!
TIMANTHES.
Where's my life?—Ismena—
Clasp'd in a husband's arms embrace thy safety.
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Alas! what hast thou done?—
TIMANTHES.
Preserv'd Ismena!
ISMENA.
Preserv'd! but how preserv'd?
TIMANTHES.
Dispel thy fears,
Time presses—let us haste—but, ha! a guard
Advances yonder—where are now my friends?
All moulder'd from me—be it so—this sword
Shall singly force thy way—
[going.
Enter Cherinthus.
Cherinthus here!
Art thou too arm'd against me!
CHERINTHUS.
O! Timanthes!
Know'st thou thy brother thus? Does this bespeak
My enmity? [embrace]
but haste, destruction now
Pursues thee close—I came to warn thee hence—
Demophoon is at hand.
TIMANTHES.
Thou art indeed
My friend, my brother—
CHERINTHUS.
Linger not—away,
While I remain to appease the king's resentment.
Then let us hence—
[going.
Enter on the other side Demophoon, Adrastus, Orcanes, Priests and Guards.
DEMOPHOON.
Timanthes, stay!—
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My father!
DEMOPHOON.
Perfidiuos boy!
[Guards prepare to surround Ismena.
TIMANTHES.
Let none presume to approach,
My life shall guard Ismena.
ISMENA.
Urge not thus
Thy fate, see heaven itself is arm'd against thee,
Then yield, in pity yield, and sheath thy sword.
DEMOPHOON.
Touch him not, guards, but give his madness way,
And let us see how far it can transport him!
Here let thy arm complete the glorious work
Thou hast but now begun, here in this bosom
Plunge deep thy steel—thou canst not tremble, traitor,
To pierce a father with the same right-hand
That in their fanes has dar'd insult the Gods!
TIMANTHES.
Some friendly mountain, with o'erwhelming shade,
Hide me from light and from a father's presence!
DEMOPHOON.
Why dost thou pause! Behold I offer here
Thy greatest foe defenceless to thy sword:
Now glut the secret hatred, that so long
Has rankled in thy breast—let me be punish'd
For giving birth to thee—thou want'st but little
To gain the prize of envy'd wickedness,
The glorious height's in view—it but remains
To plunge thy weapon in a partner's heart,
And give thy bloody hand to her thou lov'st.
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O! hold, my father, hold—those cruel words
More sharp than daggers pierce my inmost soul!
Low at your feet behold this guilty wretch,
Behold this sword, the minister of rage,
Now take it, search this breast, and free your son
From life, but O! in pity speak not thus!
DEMOPHOON.
Had I not proofs so glaring of his perfidy
He would seduce me—but I'll hear no more;
Yield, impious, yield, submit thy rebel hands
To slavish manacles.
TIMANTHES.
[giving up his sword]
Where, where, my friends,
Where are your chains? behold these ready hands,
For never shall the son refuse to obey
The mandates of a just, offended father.
DEMOPHOON.
Lead back the victim to the insulted God,
Ye holy priests, and slay her in my presence.
[guards prepare to seize her, Timanthes snatches a sword from one of them.]
TIMANTHES.
He dies that touches her—off, off, ye slaves!—
DEMOPHOON.
Disarm him, guards!
[Timanthes is disarmed.
TIMANTHES.
[To Ismena.]
I can no more defend thee!
My king! my father!
DEMOPHOON.
Leave me!
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Yet Demophoon,
Thou may'st, without resentment, hear the suit
Ismena makes, who fearless thus steps forth
To welcome death—but O! forgive the prince,
Whose partial warmth to assist a wretch's cause,
The glorious weakness of heroic minds,
Impell'd him to this fatal deed—behold
What deep contrition now o'erspreads his soul;
Hear then my last, my only prayer; complete
The unfinish'd rites—lead me to sacrifice,
And bless me with oblivion!
DEMOPHOON.
I must praise
Thy generous fortitude—yes, hapless maid,
Did not the powers profan'd demand atonement
My pity yet might save—but duty here,
And fame forbid—conduct her to the temple.
TIMANTHES.
Shall it be said I saw Ismena slain!
At least defer her fate—hear, reverend priests,
My father, hear—Ismena cannot be
The victim now required—the sacrifice
Would prove a profanation.
DEMOPHOON.
Ha! what mean'st thou!
TIMANTHES.
What does the god demand?
DEMOPHOON.
A virgin's blood.
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Ismena must not then be led to death,
She's wedded—she's a mother—she's my wife!
DEMOPHOON.
What do I hear!—suspend the rites, are these
The hopes I vainly form'd, perfidious son!
Respect'st thou thus divine and human laws,
And dost thou comfort thus thy father's age?
ISMENA.
O mighty king! before your sacred feet
Behold the cause of all—then from Timanthes
Avert your wrath, and let Ismena bear
The punishment; 'tis I, and I alone
Am guilty—think that I, with artful wiles,
Seduc'd him first to love, that I enforc'd him
With frequent tears to these forbidden nuptials.
TIMANTHES.
Believe it not—she did not—no, by heaven,
The deed was mine alone—with all the warmth
Of unremitted love I still pursu'd her:
A thousand times she banish'd me her sight,
As often I return'd—I vow'd, intreated,
But all in vain, till frantic with despair
I menach'd with a desperate hand my life.
CHERINTHUS.
O! sir, if e'er you held Cherinthus dear,
Let me now plead, nor plead in vain his pardon:
Extend your royal grace, and O! restore
To me a brother, to yourself a son.
DEMOPHOON.
What means this softness that unmans me thus?
Away—
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Yet hear, my lord—methinks I see
Compassion dawning O! look there, shall he,
Who once was all your joy, now fail to move
A father's pity?—Is he not your son?
Were not his infant years your darling hope?
Oft have I heard that, when in arms array'd,
You sought the foe, you press'd his lips to yours,
And, when you came victorious from the field,
His tender kiss first welcom'd your return.
DEMOPHOON.
No more—I feel the mingled agony
Of struggling passions labouring in my breast!
But oh! Demophoon—think thou art a king,
And let that thought confirm thee—yes, my soul,
Be greatly wretched, but be greatly just!—
Orcanes, see that these be kept apart—
Cherinthus, let us hence, while to the temple
These ministers of heaven retire to appease
The angry pow'rs!—
[Exeunt, on one side, Demophoon, Cherinthus, Adrastus, and part of the guards, while the priests ascend the steps, and enter the temple.]
Manent Timanthes, Ismena, Orcanes, Guards.
ISMENA.
And must Ismena prove
The bane of him whom more than life she loves?
Is wretchedness the dowry which she brings?
TIMANTHES.
What shall I answer thee?—I cannot speak!
These matchless proofs of unexampled love
But fix new scorpions here!—have I not murder'd
Thy peace, thy all—heap'd anguish and disgrace
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Good old Mathusius!—
ISMENA.
There indeed I feel
Distress anew—my father!—
TIMANTHES.
Now elate
With hope, he waits your coming, but in vain
The ready bark expects its lovely freight,
Which, but for me, had hence been borne in safety.
'Twas I oppos'd your flight—I fondly thought
That even the stern Demophoon must behold
My lov'd Ismena with a husband's eyes.
ISMENA.
Forbear to chide thyself—and heaven forbid
My thoughts should e'er reproach thee with the sufferings
That fate decrees us—yet thy words have rais'd
New scenes of tenderness—methinks I see
Mathusius, with a trembling heart, cast round
His longing looks, while as the wasting hour
Declines, his fears increase, till his poor bosom
Throbs with an anxious father's sharpest pangs.
TIMANTHES.
Think not I can forget his suffering age—
Some messenger shall to his ear convey
This day's events—Timanthes still has friends
That love their prince, and feel for his misfortunes.
ORCANES.
My lord, Arsetes with dispatch shall bear
Your tidings to Mathusius, this the king
Forbids not, and whate'er Orcanes can,
Which duty may, permit, attends your will.
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I thank thee, good Orcanes—lead me now
To obey the king's command—farewell, Ismena,
And every guardian power descend to save us!
ISMENA.
Still, still I fear, but stand prepar'd for all—
Yet one reflection sheds a healing balm
On my torn mind, to think I may again
Hang on his reverend neck—O! thou whose goodness
Shall bear Timanthes' greeting to Manthusius,
Hear now a daughter's voice—tell him, Ismena
Waits with a fond impatience to behold
His venerable face, while join'd to mine
His cheeks shall mingle sorrows, as his lips
Pronounce my blessing, and confirm my pardon,
For every anguish that his age endures.
TIMANTHES.
Thou brightest excellence—and shall not heaven
Protect that virtue it inspir'd—my soul
Revives with hope—we yet may meet again—
Mathusius shall return; who knows what here
His presence may avail—all, all shall join
To win Demophoon's grace—once more, farewell
My life—Ismena—
[embrace.
ISMENA.
Words are poor to speak
The tumult struggling here—let this speak for me
And sum up all in silence.
[embrace.
[Exit Timanthes guarded.
Ismena,
Guards.
Yes—he's gone!
And at his parting resolution now
Ebbs out apace, and in its stead a crowd
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Olinthus—O! that lov'd idea still
Clings round my heart—but look Cephisa comes
Once more to share in sufferings not her own!
Enter Cephisa.
CEPHISA.
Art thou Ismena, she for whom so late
My bosom bled? And may I now believe
The mouth of fame that speaks thee yet more wretched
Than when I saw thee led to death, that speaks
Of secret nuptials, of a broken union,
And all the woes that wait thy hapless love?
ISMENA.
Alas! Cephisa, I am one whom fortune
Has singled for her frowns, one whom in vain
The hand of goodness would preserve from ruin;
Whom even Cephisa's pity cannot save—
And yet too generous princess—
CEPHISA.
No, Ismena,
As yet perhaps all is not lost—the power
That watches o'er the unhappy still may hear thee:
Demophoon has confess'd that nature's plea
Is strongly for Timanthes, that his soul
Is rent with passions, while by turns the judge,
By turns the father sways: the public eye
Confirm'd the wavering king; but now retir'd
Within himself, the parent must prevail.
Then speak, O speak, and case thy swelling heart,
Methinks I see distraction labouring there!
And as but now thy eyes encounter'd mine,
The tear, that stood till then supprest, gush'd forth.
Give words to all the pangs a wife can feel,
To all a mother's anguish.
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Thou hast touch'd me,
Too nearly there—I am indeed a mother,
Here, here his image dwells—and O! Cephisa,
Could I but hope, and yet I wrong thy virtues,
We have a son, the dear, the only offspring
Of our ill-omen'd loves—his innocence
Alas! is guiltless of his parent's deeds—
Could I but once more clasp him to my breast—
Thy goodness might intreat the king—
CEPHISA.
And will
Ismena—yes, by all the virtuous grief
Of sympathy, when for another's woe,
The generous bosom feels, I'll seek Demophoon,
And urge thy suit with friendship's kindest warmth.
Perhaps yet more—but rest assur'd, Ismena,
Thus much at least Cephisa can obtain
To give thy little fondling to thy arms,
To shed soft comfort on thy lonely hours,
To calm thy troubled breast and sooth thy cares!
[Exit.
Ismena,
Guards.
Conduct me now, where I may patient wait
What yet remains to suffer, while I count
Each tardy moment till Olinthus comes!
And he will come—Cephisa has pronounc'd it—
My heart already meets him—lead me, friends,
To prison!—no—the mind, still uncontroul'd,
Knows no confinement—to a place of sorrow!
O! no—that cannot be, when my Olinthus,
Love's dearest pledge, shall smile away distress
Even in the dungeon's gloom—the thought alone
Wings my rapt soul, and lightens every pain!
[Exit guarded.
End of the Fourth Act.
| Timanthes | |