 | Demophoon |  |
SCENE IV.
Enter Demophoon attended.Demo.
Prince!—my son!
Timan.
My lord! my father!
[kneels and kisses his hand.
Demo.
Rise.
Timan.
Behold me here,
Obedient to your royal will.
Demo.
I know
Thy warlike genius brooks not peaceful courts;
And thou, perchance, reluctant hast receiv'd
My orders that recall'd thee from the field.
Thy triumphs, prince, are mine: my soul exults
In every deed, and conquers by thy sword:
I know the worth of all thy arms have won,
But thou art dearer to my heart than all.
Thy toils demand refreshment: valour gains
New vigour from repose; for ever bent,
The bow at length will lose the elastic force.
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If then the prince and son have done their part,
The king and father must accomplish their's.
Timan.
'Tis now the wish'd-for time—be bold and speak!
[aside.
So well I know the goodness of my father,
I dare presume—
Demo.
O no! thou canst not tell,
How dear I hold thee: little thinks my son
How much his peace employs my careful hours.
I read thy thoughts this instant: even thy silence
I construe for thee: all thy soul desires,
Is to behold thy consort by thy side,
And see all Thrace spectators of thy love.
Is it not so?
Timan.
What means he! sure my father
Has heard the secret story of our nuptials.
[aside.
Demo.
Thou dar'st not speak, and this respectful silence
Persuades me to fulfill thy utmost wishes.
I own at first I doubted on the choice,
Nay felt reluctance to consent to ties
My nature seem'd to abhor; the father's enmity
Rose in my mind, and made me hate the daughter.
At length my sole desire to see thee happy
Prevail'd o'er all.
Timan.
I can no longer doubt.
[aside.
88
What passions, my Timanthes, can control
A father's fondness pleading for his son?
Timan.
O royal sir! you give me life unhop'd;
This goodness melts me—let me seek my bride
And bring her to your presence.
Demo.
Stay—Cherinthus,
Thy younger brother, shall conduct her to me.
Timan.
Heavens! what unlook'd-for happiness is this!
[aside.
Demo.
A messenger, dispatch'd by my command,
Waits her arrival at the port—
Timan.
The port!
Demo.
Who when th'expected ship appears in sight,
Will give us tidings strait.
Timan.
What ship, my lord?
Demo.
The ship that from the shores of Phrygia brings
The fair Creusa to thy nuptial bed.
Timan.
O Gods!
[aside.
Demo.
I know thou think'st it strange, Timanthes:
The hate, devolving from the sire to son,
Between our race, might seem to exclude the hope
Of such alliance: but the princess brings
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The only offspring of an aged king.
Timan.
My lord—I hop'd—O fatal, fatal error!
[aside.
Demo.
There is no other partner for thy bed,
Unless a subject born—
Timan.
And what imports it,
A subject or a princess?
Demo.
No, my son,
The shades of our great ancestors would blush
To see their race demean'd; from them we hold
The statute, that condemns to death the maid,
Who, born a subject, dares to join in marriage
With one of royal blood; and while I reign,
I'm guardian of the law, and will inforce it
Even with severest rigour.
Timan.
Sacred sir—
| Demophoon | |