University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A gallery.
Alcestes, Olinthus.
Alc.
And wherefore dost thou now oppose my passage?
I haste to the apartment of the queen.

Olin.
Thou must not enter there, the queen forbids thee:
Olinthus says it.

Alc.
Here at least I'll wait
Till I'm again permitted to behold her.

Olin.
My word may sure suffice: thou must not now
Attempt to appear in Cleonice's presence:
She has forbidden thee to be admitted,
Nor e'er will see thee more.—Yet dost thou hear me?

Alc.
See me no more?—O Heaven!

Olin.
I see, Alcestes,
Thou art struck at this command.

Alc.
Olinthus, no.
Forgive me, but I cannot yet believe thee:
To me my queen can ne'er be so unjust.
O! wherefore should she doom to such affliction
The man whose faith to her has prov'd unshaken?
Olinthus, either thou deceiv'st thyself,
Or me thou would'st deceive.

Olin.
And dar'st thou then
Still doubt my truth?

Alc.
If I have dar'd too far,
I shall know all from her.

[going.
Olin.
Yet stay.

SCENE II.

Enter Mithranes.
Mith.
Alcestes,
Say, whither would'st thou go?

Alc.
Detain me not;
I fly to Cleonice.

Mith.
O! my friend,
Thou art denied admittance to her sight.

Alc.
Is it then true that I'm forbid—

Mith.
Too true.

Alc.
For pity's sake, Mithranes, plead my cause;
Return, and tell her that this cruel stroke
Is more than all my firmness can support:
Tell her some envious tongue has wrong'd my fame,
That still I'm true, that should she think me guilty,
I at her feet can clear my sullied honour.

Mith.
I dare not now obey you; for the queen
Has given us charge to speak of you no more,
And makes it criminal to name Alcestes.

Alc.
But say the cause.

Mith.
From me she keeps it secret.

Alc.
Alas! I am betray'd: some impious wretch
Belies me to her: but whoe'er thou art
Tremble, thou traitor; think not thou shalt long
Be hid from my resentment: in the temple
I'll pierce thy heart, nor shall the sacred altar
Preserve thee from my rage.

Olin.
These threats, Alcestes,
Are spent in vain.

Alc.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Olinthus, Mithranes.
Olin.
At length 'tis done—the ruin of Alcestes
Secures to me the empire—Yes, Mithranes,
Already hope anticipates my joy.

Mith.
The wise rely not easily on hope.
A happiness, in confidence expected,
When 'tis withheld, afflicts us like a loss:
Thou art deceiv'd, if thus thy hopes allure thee.
It were a happiness indeed to reign,
If headstrong passions would respect the throne:
If nothing more remain'd for him to wish,
Who once had worn the vest of royalty;
But one desire extinct, another springs,
The object chang'd it loses not its strength.
If now thou find'st not peace within thyself,
Learn thou wilt still be wretched in the state
Of wish'd-for empire.

Olin.
Think'st thou not the pleasure
Is mighty, to command?

Mith.
The good we seek
By custom grows familiar; every joy
Is more in expectation than possession.
Thou canst not tell the burden of a crown,
Nor what it costs to attain the arts of sway.

Olin.
By reigning, 'tis we learn to rule.

Mith.
'Tis true:
But he, who learns by ruling, oft must err,
And every little error in a king,
Is criminal esteem'd.

Olin.
Of this, Mithranes,
I cannot speak; for taught alone to wield
The sword and spear, 'tis not for me to fathom
The passions of mankind: such deep researches
Demand maturer years, and frequent converse
In Egypt's temples, or the Athenian porch.

Mith.
There needs not sure the wisdom taught at Athens
Or Egypt, to preserve our faith unbroken?
Hast thou not lov'd Barsene till this hour?

Olin.
And still I love her.

Mith.
Canst thou, loving her,
Desire a throne that certain makes her loss.

Olin.
And wilt thou, with a kingdom gain'd, compare
The losing of a heart?

Mith.
By proofs like these
Fidelity is known.

Olin.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Mithranes
alone.
The lightest breath of Fortune's doubtful gale
Can elevate his thoughtless youth: already
Olinthus seems to grasp the regal sceptre;
Already sees himself on Syria's throne;
How weak is man when passion blinds the soul!

SCENE V.

Mithranes, Cleonice.
Cleo.
Who waits there? I would write.
[speaks to a page as entering.
Depart, Mithranes.

Mith.
I shall obey you.

[going.
Cleo.
Hear me—Has Alcestes
Again enquir'd of me?

Mith.
He has, O queen!
No other care—but still the unhappy youth—

Cleo.
Depart—enough—yet hear, what could he say?

Mith.
He vows that still he's true to love,
That treacherous arts your bosom move,
That ne'er your heart could cruel prove,
Where goodness once was wont to rest.
He dies to see your anger past,
Before your feet to breathe his last,
The victim of his love distrest.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

Enter Barsene.
Bar.
All is prepar'd, my queen: here in this paper
You to Alcestes may reveal your purpose.

Cleo.
And shall I not in this be most inhuman
To him and to myself? Yet would I fain
Subdue my heart, would fain estrange him from me:
For this the realm expects, my glory prompts,
Heaven wills, and Cleonice must obey.
But from my lips at least he may be told it;
'Tis tyranny by letter to convey
Such cruel tidings to him—No, my friend,
What other consolation can remain
For two unhappy lovers, doom'd to part,
Than to complain at least with mutual sorrow,
To dwell on all their former tenderness,
And mourn together in their last adieu?

Bar.
Is this a consolation then?—O no,
A wish to see Alcestes has betray'd you.
Trust not yourself again to such a trial:
Resisting once you have enough perform'd,
You lose the fruit of your first victory
Should you attempt a second—Well I know
One interview would weaken your resolves,
And stronger make the foe. Complete, my queen,
The generous work: in you your subjects hope:
Reflect that on your constancy to bear
This cruel stroke, that fills your soul with anguish,
Must now depend your glory.

Cleo.
Tyrant glory!
And must I die to keep my fame unsullied?
Or, while I live, for ever mourn the loss
Of all I hold most dear?—Inhuman duty!
Thou shalt be satisfied—yes, I will write.

Bar.
My fate begins to smile; I still have hopes
Alcestes may be mine.

[aside.
Cleo.
“Belov'd Alcestes,”—

[writing.
Bar.
Yes, I may boast of happiness indeed,
If 'midst th' emotions of her troubled mind,
For some few moments glory keeps her seat.

[aside.
Cleo.
“Our fate permits us not to live in peace.”—

[writing.
Bar.
My hopes increase—O Heaven! she now withdraws
Her trembling hand, and leans her pensive cheek:
Alas! her first affections are return'd!

[aside.
Cleo.
My poor undone Alcestes!

[speaks, then writes again.
Bar.
How I tremble
Lest she repent: yet were I Cleonice
I know not how my heart could bear the conflict.

[aside.
Cleo.
[writing.]
“Still live, my best belov'd, but not for me.”—
'Tis done, Barsene.

[rising.
Bar.
We have reach'd the port.
[aside.
Yes, justly Heaven has destin'd for the throne
A mind like yours exalted.

Cleo.
Take this paper:
The care be thine—

[about to give her the paper.

SCENE VII.

Enter Phenicius.
Phen.
Have pity, gracious queen!

Cleo.
For whom dost thou implore it?

Phen.
For Alcestes.
But now I met him pale, and scarce alive,
Half frantic with his grief: the harsh decree
That dooms him never to behold you more,
Is such a stroke as stabs him to the heart.
By turns he sighs, he raves, he prays, he threatens,
But 'midst his rage and grief remembers you,
And you alone; each moment he repeats
Your much lov'd name, that even obdurate rocks
Might pity his distress.

Cleo.
Unjust Phenicius,
From thee my staggering virtue hop'd to find
A kind support, but ne'er from thee expected
A motive to betray it. Why, ah! why
Dost thou return, with barbarous cruelty,
To search the wound still bleeding in my breast?

Phen.
Forgive the warmth of fond paternal love,
That prompts me thus: Alcestes is my son,
Son of my choice, son of my dearest cares,
The happy plant which I have foster'd long,
That flourish'd in the beams of princely favour,
Beneath your royal eye; the kingdom's hope;
The hope and stay of my declining age.

Bar.
O ill-tim'd zeal!

[aside.
Phen.
And must I now behold
My expectations in a moment blasted?
Ah! queen, I cannot boast such strength in age
As will enable me a single day
To outlive this fatal shock.

Cleo.
What can I do?
What would Alcestes? Say, what consolation
Does he from me require to ease his sufferings?

Phen.
To view you once again and die.

Cleo.
O Heaven!

Phen.
Fairest of queens! I see your heart is mov'd:
Have pity on Alcestes, on Phenicius;
Think on these silver hairs, these years of service;
My well-tried faith sure merits some indulgence.

Cleo.
Who longer could resist?—Go, bid him enter.

[tears the paper, and rises.
Bar.
Behold my kindling hopes again extinguish'd.

[aside.
Phen.
It is enough—let her but see Alcestes,
Alcestes will o'ercome.

[going, meets Olinthus.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Olinthus.
Olin.
My queen, my father,
Alcestes is no longer in Seleucia;
By my device already he's departed.

Cleo.
What say'st thou?

Phen.
Wherefore?

Olin.
With ungovern'd warmth
Importunate he sought once more to see you;
Hence, in your name, I gave him strict command
Instant to quit the realm.

Cleo.
And when from me
Didst thou receive such orders?—Guards! O Heaven!
[Guards enter.
Haste, be Alcestes found and brought before us.

[Guards go out.
Phen.
Unhappy me!

[aside.
Cleo.
But should their search be vain,
Tremble, rash youth, 'tis thou shalt pay the forfeit
Of thy presumption.

Olin.
I but hop'd to serve you,
Removing thus a dangerous obstacle,
That might obstruct your glory.

Cleo.

[Exit.

SCENE IX.

Barsene, Phenicius, Olinthus.
Olin.
Tell me, my lord, when have you known a mind
Changeful like Cleonice's? At one instant
She loves, and hates; now asks to see Alcestes,
And now forbids his presence; while on others
She lays the blame of her still wavering purpose.

Phen.
Rash boy! and dost thou thus respect thy sovereign?
At least for once be taught to curb thy speech.
O! I despair to amend him!

[to Barsene.
Bar.
Ripening days
Will bring maturer thought: as yet Olinthus
Is but in life's first spring.

Phen.
I too, Barsene,
Have known the spring of life: these locks that now
Are thinn'd and white with time, were beauteous once;
Then, happy times! 'twas not with such contempt
Youth heard the wholesome counsels of the wise:
But now the world declines, and growing old
Degenerates from its virtue.

[Exit.

SCENE X.

Barsene, Olinthus.
Olin.
To content
The austerity of age, we must begin
To act the hero from our infant years;
But, ah! Barsene, different is the plan
Of sprightly youth. Say, does Olinthus still
Share in thy tenderness?

Bar.

[Exit.

SCENE XI.

Olinthus
alone.

[Exit.

SCENE XII.

A room with seats.
Cleonice
alone.
Now, Cleonice, now, thy trial comes:
To see thy lov'd Alcestes once again,
And see him for the last! and hast thou courage
To speak thyself the fatal sentence to him?
To bid him leave thee, drive thee from his thoughts?
Far better had it been to let him go.

SCENE XIII.

Enter Mithranes.
Mith.
My gracious queen, Alcestes is at hand,
After such pangs restor'd again to life,
He waits once more impatient to behold you.

Cleo.
How my heart throbs!

[aside.
Mith.
Phenicius saw and cheer'd him,
Told him the power he still had in your breast,
At this recovering, like a tender flower
That rises to the sun, surcharg'd with dew,
He clear'd his brow, again the colour flush'd
His glowing cheek, and every look was chang'd;
While fill'd with hope and unexpected joy,
Love mix'd with transport brighten'd in his face.

Cleo.
And must I lose him then?
[aside.
Depart, Mithranes,
Bid him approach, I here expect his coming.

Mith.
O fortunate Alcestes!

[Exit.

SCENE XIV.

Cleonice
alone.
Where, ah! where
Are now the boasted thoughts of fame and empire?
Ah! what has driven you hence? To guard my soul
In this dire trial, this approaching conflict,
I seek you in my breast but cannot find you;
This is the dreadful moment—Can I place
My hopes in you, when at the name alone
Of him I love, you thus at once forsake me?
Return, O Heaven! return: assemble all,
Confirm my weak resolves, and teach my heart
To bear unmov'd the last assaults of love.

SCENE XV.

Enter Alcestes.
Alc.
O queen ador'd! no longer I'll believe
That grief destroys us: 'tis deception all,
To say affliction's iron hand cuts short
The lingering hapless hours of painful life.
O! were it true, Alcestes had not liv'd:
But if my woes have purchas'd this reward,
This wish'd-for meeting, happy are my sufferings;
Whate'er I've felt is amply now repaid.

Cleo.
Heart-breaking tenderness!

[aside.
Alc.
If thou art still
To me the same as I am still to thee;
If it indeed be true that I may yet
Hope every thing from Cleonice's goodness;
O! tell me now by what unknown offence
Have I deserv'd such rigour from my queen?

Cleo.
Thou shalt know all, Alcestes; sit, and hear me.

[sits.
Alc.
I shall obey my sovereign.

[sits.
Cleo.
Chilling fear
Benumbs my heart.

[aside.
Alc.
I feel my hopes revive.

[aside.
Cleo.
Alcestes, dost thou love indeed thy queen?
Or art thou but enamour'd of her rank,
Her regal fortune, and illustrious race?

Alc.
And can you think such motives urge Alcestes?
Or, by your doubts, would you reproach my birth,
My low paternal cottage? 'Midst the woods
That gave me life, that nurs'd my early years,
I left such abject thoughts; or rather say
I never knew them—No—In Cleonice
I love the charms, subjected not to change
Of fortune or of age, her noble mind
That in its native virtues bright, reflects
More splendor on the crown and regal sceptre,
Than royal dignity on her bestows.

Cleo.
May I not then from such a generous lover
Expect some glorious proof of fortitude?

Alc.
Speak your command, Alcestes shall obey.

Cleo.
You promise much.

Alc.
And I'll perform it all.
Each danger must be light, when prov'd for thee.
Securely will I dare the tempest's rage;
Or if thou bidst me go, expose my bosom
Unarm'd, defenceless, to th' embattled foes.

Cleo.
I ask much more, Alcestes—thou must leave me.

Alc.
Leave thee!—O Heaven!—what is it thou hast said?

Cleo.
Yes, thou must leave me, must for ever leave me,
And live without me in some distant clime.

Alc.
But who prescribes this cruel doom?

Cleo.
My honour,
The genius of my subjects, justice, duty;
That virtue you admire in Cleonice,
Which gives more brightness to the diadem,
Than royal dignity on her bestows.

Alc.
And can you then, with constancy unmov'd,
Command me to forsake you?

Cleo.
Ah! thou know'st not—

Alc.
I've known enough; I see thou lov'st me not.
[rises.
Appease thy glory, satisfy thy vassals,
And carry to the throne the stain of falsehood;
While wandering through the world I bear in mind
The deep remembrance of thy faith betray'd;
If grief permit Alcestes to survive.

[going.
Cleo.
Leave me not yet.

Alc.
O! I too much respect
Great Cleonice's rank: a base-born shepherd,
By staying longer here, will but debase
Her royal dignity.

Cleo.
Thou dost deride me,
Ungrateful man!

Alc.
And am I then ungrateful?
Have I forsaken thee, and sacrific'd
My faith, my promises, my oaths, my love,
To pomp and state?—Inhuman, perjur'd woman!

Cleo.
Yes, from thy lips I will endure it all:
If thou hast more to utter, give it vent;
But when thou art weary of insulting me,
Let Cleonice in her turn reply.

Alc.
What canst thou say, ingrate, for thy defence?
Dost thou then hope to varnish o'er the guilt
Of falsehood black as thine?

Cleo.
O yet, Alcestes,
Forbear to judge too rashly—sit and hear me.

Alc.
Heavens! in her power how much she still confides!

[aside, sits again.
Cleo.
Alcestes, if thou wilt but recollect
That ten revolving years thou hast been still
The dearest object of my constant wishes,
Thou wilt believe what anguish I must feel
In parting from thee now: but Cleonice,
Before the world constrain'd to choose a king,
No longer can consult her secret heart;
But, such her rigid fate, must sacrifice
Each fond affection to her tyrant glory,
And to the peace of others.

Alc.
Did not then
The council make thee mistress of thy choice?

Cleo.
They did; and I might now abuse my power
And raise thee to the throne: but canst thou think
So many peers, unjustly thus excluded,
Would tamely bear the wrong? Insidious plots,
And open insults, with eternal discord,
Would shake the realm, distract thyself and me.
The weakness of my sex, thy youth, thy birth
Would furnish arms for calumny: our names
Through Asia, in a thousand mouths, would prove
Foul matter for derision. No, Alcestes,
Let envy want its food, and let our virtue
Example be to others: let the world
Behold and wonder at our fortitude;
While pity's eye shall drop a tender tear
To see the fate of two unhappy lovers,
Who thus for glory break the pleasing ties
Of love so just, by length of years confirm'd.

Alc.
Why was I, cruel Gods! a shepherd born!

Cleo.
Go—let us yield to fate—far, far from me
Live and be happy—moderate thy sorrows,
Thou shalt have little cause, my dear Alcestes,
To grieve that I remain unfaithful to thee.
No—from this moment I begin to die:
These tears perhaps the last I shed—farewell!
No longer call me perjur'd and inhuman.

Alc.
O Heaven!—forgive me, thou exalted fair one,
[kneels.
Live still, my queen, preserve thy fame unsullied:
I blush to own my folly—yes, I am happy
If from so dear a teacher I can learn
Such constancy and virtue.

Cleo.
Rise, and leave me,
If it indeed be true thou lov'st my virtue.

Alc.
Here, on this hand that must no more be mine,
At least permit my trembling lips to seal
One parting kiss, ere yet I go—

Both.
Adieu!

Alc.

[Exit.

SCENE XVI.

Cleonice
alone.
At length ambitious views be satisfied:
See me forsaken, see me now depriv'd
Of all I priz'd!—what unpropitious power
Implanted in mankind this thirst of honour?
What to the world avails this tyrant glory,
If purchas'd with such pain? If we to live
For that, must die to every bliss beside?

SCENE XVII.

Enter Barsene and Phenicius.
Bar.
Is it then true, my queen, that you have gain'd
So great a triumph o'er your fond affection,
Even in the presence of the man you love?

Phen.
And is it true that Cleonice proves
So barbarous to herself and to Alcestes?

Cleo.
'Tis all too true.

Phen.
I thought such cruelty
Ne'er harbour'd in your breast.

Bar.
I hop'd no less
From constancy like yours.

Phen.
The inhuman deed
All will detest who feel a touch of pity.

Bar.
Each generous mind that owns the force of virtue,
Must praise the glorious action.

Phen.
By your rigour
What have you lost?

Bar.
What lasting honour won?

Phen.
Ah! yet revoke—

Bar.
Still persevere—

Cleo.
O Heaven!
Be silent; wherefore would you thus distress me?
What would you more?

Phen.
I would, while yet 'tis time,
Free you from this delusion.

Bar.
I would still
Preserve the triumph of your constancy.

Cleo.

[Exit.

SCENE XVIII.

Phenicius, Barsene.
Phen.
I cannot tell, Barsene, what to think
Of this excess of zeal: thy watchful care
To guard her glory carries thee too far.
It cannot be that maxims so severe
Inspire thy gentle sex: thou dost conceal
Some private interest in thy breast, beneath
These specious shows of honour—Thou art silent—
A blush o'erspreads thy cheek—speak—can it be?
Art thou the rival then of Cleonice?
Even now I saw thee on Alcestes turn
Thy looks by stealth, nor did thy sighs escape me.
But no, thou canst not thus ungrateful prove;
Thy sovereign then with justice might reproach thee.

Bar.

[Exit.

SCENE XIX.

Phenicius
alone.

[Exit.