University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

An Apartment on the summit of a Tower, commanding a Prospect of the Fields without the Walls. Two Urns on two Pedestals. Enter Cleonice.
Cleonice.
O, Night! that soon wilt stretch oblivion's wing
O'er many a wretch, drive on the lagging shades
And close the day's dire horrors!—though to me
Sleep brings no refuge, yet congenial gloom
Befits my anguish—five revolving years
Thy senseless ashes in their peaceful dwelling
Have every day, Polemon, wak'd remembrance,
And oft receiv'd the tributary tears.
But here's a stroke surpassing all—Arsetes
Shrunk to this narrow space!—at early dawn
He tower'd in arms—a little hour he lay
A breathless corpse, and here his sad remains,
Warm from the funeral flame, are clos'd for ever!
Enter Arsinoe.
If thou bring'st comfort, speak!

Arsi.
Alas! my friend,
I know it not—since from the walls my father
Led forth his followers, to support the attack
Of brave Orontes on the foe, suspense
Has dwelt on all—the citizens affrighted
Hearken to every sound that whispers aught
Of fight or victory—
[Distant alarms.
Heaven, guard my father.

Cleo.
Sure 't is the distant murmur of the fight
That swells upon the wind, and see, Arsinoe,
Ere yet the shade of evening faintly spreads
O'er the dun fields, see through the dusty whirl
The flash of arms—

Arsi.
But hark! some hasty foot
Sounds on the steps that lead to this recess:
O! let me fly, and ease my beating heart
For Teramenes' safety!

[Exit.
Cleo.
Nearer still
I hear the deepening roar—another shout!
There, there perhaps, Pharnaces, hated name!
Sheds wide destruction!—can it be, ye powers!
Can he who stoop'd to murder, rise in aught
That's great or noble? sure, Arsetes' shade
Should hover round, and in the day of battle
Wither his strength!—Some fatal news at hand!
'T is Teramenes—Heavens!—

Enter Teramenes, and Officers.
Tera.
Where, where's the king?
—O, Cleonice—

Cleo.
Speak—

Tera.
Bithynia's lost!—
Our latest hour is come.—

Enter Lycomedes.
Lyc.
What means this tumult?
What from the camp—but now a peal of shouts
Broke on my slumbering sense—how stand our hopes?

Tera.
The foe is in the walls!—our bands repuls'd
By Artabasus and his son, retreated
To gain the gates—with them the conquering troops
Of Pontus enter'd.—

Lyc.
'T is enough—these eyes
Have seen enough of woe!—Where is Orontes?

Tera.
I saw him last, with dauntless courage, brave
The hostile troops, when headed by Pharnaces
They thunder'd through the gates, at which dire moment
He vanish'd from my sight, and O! I fear
He falls a victim to this dreadful day!—
But time forbids our vain laments—this instant
The victor may be here—one way remains
That yet may save my king—the western tower
Is still our own, and may perhaps sustain
The foe's attack, till Arcas shall arrive—
But now, Arsinoe thither with a guard
I sent—retire, my liege, with Cleonice,
In safety there.

Lyc.
No—though this trembling arm
Shrinks from the buckler's weight, I can provoke
The death I wish for from the pitying foe!
Come forth; this sword, that long has idly slept,
Shall once again—

Cleo.
What means my father?—yet
Retract your purpose—think on Cleonice!
Forsaken here—I see, I see the hand
Of ruffian force drag by the silver locks
Thy venerable age—I see those features,
That oft have fondly smil'd on Cleonice,
In agony distorted.—What remains
For me at that curst moment?—wild with horror
To rend my scatter'd hair—against the pavement
Dash these poor limbs—then bare my breast to meet
The steel, yet reeking with a parent's life,
And mingle blood with his that gave me being!—

Lyc.
Distracting image!—O, my child! my child!
And shall I then—this moment I could yield
The last cold drops that linger in these veins—
And bless the hand that struck me—yet when death
Draws his dark veil—to catch a glimpse of life,
But to behold thee die—Haste, let me hence
To lose the dreadful thought—a minute longer
May place us safe beyond the future reach
Of fate, of misery, and Artabasus!

Cleo.
O, hear me still—yet let these filial tears
Prevail.—Death is the last, the sure resource,
And when fate closes every path that leads
To future hope—this arm can then, my father,
Fix one great period to a life of woes.

Tera.
My sovereign, Artabasus and Barzanes
Are near at hand, from hence we may discern
Their bucklers blaze [looking out]
; away, my liege!

Lyc.
O! never!—
They shall be met—these wither'd limbs—look there,
See those sad monuments—
[Points to the Urns.
And shall the hands,
The murderous hands by which they fell, here grasp
The sword in triumph?—No, these trembling feet
Shall meet their fury.

[Going.
Cleo.
Yet—O, yet, my father!
One moment hear—

Tera.
Forgive me, royal sir!
If thus compell'd—Learchus, help—

Lyc.
[Struggling.]
Unhand me—
'T is more than treason—hence!—

[Drops his sword in the struggle.
Cleo.
Lo! there, my father,
Some god descends, and from your nerveless arm
Strikes your resisting weapon.

Lyc.
O, shame! shame!
'T is sure the work of heaven!—then all is past!
I yield—Lead, lead me where thou wilt!

[Shout.
Tera.
Again!
Conduct them safely through the secret gate,
Meantime myself, with some few friends will seek
Orontes, and secure my king's retreat.

[Exit.
Cleo.
O! hear me, Heaven! for Lycomedes hear!
Still save him, sinking in this gulph of ruin!
Or let one moment whelm us both in death,
And end a father's and a daughter's woes!

[Exeunt.