 | Demetrius |  |
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
354
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.
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“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.
| Demetrius | |