University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A private apartment.
Demophoon, Creusa.
Demo.
Ask what thou wilt, and ask without constraint,
I can this day refuse Creusa nothing.
Yet speak not in behalf of Dirce; no,
Her father shall behold her die: the wretch
Has dar'd to insult the majesty of kings:
Even in my presence, 'midst the vulgar herd,
He sow'd seditious rumours, nay oppos'd
Our high decree, and durst compare himself
To me his sovereign—I'll no longer reign,
If insolence like this must pass unpunish'd.

Creu.
I come not, sir, to plead another's cause;
I know full well your purpose: my demands
Are for myself alone.

Demo.
What would'st thou seek?

Creu.
Let me return to Phrygia: your permission
Is wanting that the ships may quit the port.
Grant my request: you cannot, sure, refuse me;
Unless Creusa comes, as much she fears,
To be a slave, and not partake a throne.

Demo.
What say'st thou, princess? what suspicions fill
Thy breast? what passion dictates to thy tongue?
Wilt thou depart, and leave the prince, forego
The promis'd nuptials?

Creu.
For Timanthes, sir,
Creusa boasts no charms; a mortal beauty
Must never hope to win him—for himself—
But this imports not me—I would be gone—
Have I your leave, my lord?

Demo.
Thou art thyself
The mistress of thy actions: think not, princess,
Unwilling I'd detain thee: yet, permit me,
To say I hop'd far other from Creusa.

Creu.
I know not which most justly may complain:
The prince indeed—no more—to sum up all—
Let me depart—

Demo.
But hast thou seen my son?

Creu.
I have.

Demo.
And did he speak to thee?

Creu.
He did:
Would he had never spoken!

Demo.
Ha! what said he?

Creu.
Excuse me, sir, let this suffice—

Demo.
Creusa,
I understand thee; thou hast found the prince
Rough in address, unskill'd in courtly phrase.
Perchance he gave thee but a cold reception,
I can forgive thy anger. Born in Phrygia,
Nurtur'd in all the softness of thy country,
A Thracian's manners must be harsh to thee:
Wonder not then if such Timanthes seem:
Bred up in arms, the soul's more tender passions
To him are yet unknown: be thine the glory
To instruct him in the mysteries of love.
Thine be the easy task; for, O Creusa!
What power resides not in a face so charming,
And eyes that sparkle with such heavenly fire?
What breast, inspir'd by thee, but soon must learn?

Creu.
Reflect it ill befits with my condition,
To stand expos'd to a refusal.

Demo.
How!
Refusal? wherefore should'st thou fear it, princess?

Creu.
Who knows th'event?

Demo.
This day my son shall give
To thee his hand, if thou wilt deign to accept it.
I plight the faith and honour of a king;
And should he dare to disobey my will—
A father's just resentment—but no more—
It cannot be—I am alarm'd too soon.

Creu.
Yes, let him force Timanthes to consent,
That so I may refuse him. [aside.]
—Well, my lord,
I take your word—be thine the care—but if—

Demo.
Enough; to me securely trust thy honour.

Creu.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Demophoon
alone.
What arrogance is this—as if—but yet
Her rank, her sex, her youth may plead her pardon;
And sure Timanthes has but ill receiv'd her.
I must rebuke him, teach him better thoughts,
To change his coldness and assume the lover.
Go—call Timanthes to me—but he comes.

SCENE III.

Enter Timanthes.
Timan.
My king! my father! pity, grace and pardon!

Demo.
For whom dost thou entreat?

Timan.
The unhappy daughter
Of poor Mathusius.

Demo.
'Tis already done;
Her doom is fix'd; the sentence that has pass'd
A monarch's lips, is not to be revok'd.
Repentance springs from error; but a king
Who errs not, never can repent.

Timan.
On earth
The Gods are worshipp'd, as they bend their ear
To mortal vows: but Fate, the greatest power,
Against whose dread decree no prayers avail,
Finds none to raise an altar or a temple
To his divinity.

Demo.
And know'st thou not
That Fear's the strongest guardian of the throne?

Timan.
Ill to be trusted.

Demo.
Him respect succeeds,
His rightful offspring.

Timan.
Doubtful as the parent.

Demo.
Soon will it grow to love.

Timan.
But love dissembled.

Demo.
Time will instruct thee what thou yet must learn;
But let us change the subject—Tell me, son,
What hast thou done to offend the Phrygian princess,
Whose hand this day should join to thee in marriage?

Timan.
I feel such strong repugnance to the union,
I fear my best resolves can ne'er surmount it.

Demo.
And yet thou must—

Timan.
Of this we'll speak hereafter.
For Dirce now behold me at your feet;
[kneels.
O! grant, my lord, grant to your son's request
Her guiltless life!

Demo.
Dost thou presume again
To name her? If thou valuest aught my love,
Forego this enterprise.

Timan.
My dearest father!
I cannot now obey you—O! if ever
I have deserv'd a parent's tenderness:
If with a bosom mark'd with honest wounds,
I have return'd a conqueror to your arms:
If e'er my triumphs in the glorious field,
The timely fruits of your august example,
Have drawn the tear of pleasure from your eyes;
Reverse the doom of Dirce: lost, unhappy,
She has no friend but me to plead her cause;
Cast off by all, her hope's in me alone!
O Heaven! 'twere most inhuman to behold her,
In early bloom of years, who never knew
The name of guilt, stretch'd on the fatal altar
In agonizing suffering, to behold
The life-warm blood gush from her tender breast;
To hear the last sad accents from her lips;
To mark her dying eyes—but, thou art pale!
Why look'st thou thus upon me?—O my father!
I know, I know the gracious signs of pity:
Do not repent, my lord, indulge it still;
For never will I quit these sacred feet,
[kneels.
'Till thou hast given the word to pardon Dirce.

Demo.
Rise, prince!—Almighty powers! What must I think
That with such tenderness thou dwell'st upon her?
What mean these starts of some mysterious passion!
And can it be thou lov'st her?

Timan.
'Tis in vain
I seek to hide it longer.

Demo.
Now full well
I see what caus'd thy coldness to Creusa:
And what would'st thou intend? For canst thou hope
I'll e'er consent to join thee to a subject?
Reflect that secret nuptials—O! if once
I could suspect it—

Timan.
What mistrust is this?
I swear to all the Gods I'll ne'er espouse her:
I do not ask it: give her but to live.
But if your will is fix'd, and she must die,
Believe me, sir, your son will perish too.

Demo.
To gain our purpose let us yield a little—
[aside.
Well then, since thou wilt have it so, thy favourite
Shall live, my son, I give her to thy prayers.

Timan.
My dearest father!

[attempts to kiss his hand.
Demo.
Hold—a parent's goodness
Sure merits some return.

Timan.
My life itself—

Demo.
No, my dear son, I ask far less from thee:
Learn to respect my choice in fair Creusa,
And be no more averse to wed the princess.

Timan.
O Heaven!

Demo.
I see it pains thee; but the struggle
Thy heart endures, adds merit to obedience.
Have I not felt compassion for thy weakness?
Do thou preserve my honour: think, Timanthes,
How will the breath of fame traduce thy father,
If through thy fault his sacred faith is forfeit.
Thou canst not harbour such ingratitude;
I know it well—come; let us to the temple,
Thither conduct thy bride, and there before
The attesting Gods, at once my son fulfil
What justice now demands from thee and me.

Timan.
My lord—I cannot—

Demo.
Prince! thou yet hast heard
The father only; force me not to employ
The king's authority.

Timan.
Sacred alike
I hold the dictates of the king and father:
But well thou know'st, love cannot be compell'd.

Demo.
Love rules the nuptials of the subject only,
A greater power must join the hands of princes:
Their choice is guided by the public good.

Timan.
If such a price must buy the good of others—

Demo.
No more—I am weary, prince, of fruitless talk;
This reason may suffice—'tis my command.

Timan.
And I can never—

Demo.
Ha! what means this boldness?
Dost thou not know—

Timan.
I know thou wilt chastise me.

Demo.
Yes, thou shalt feel thy punishment begin
In her thou lov'st, thy Dirce.

Timan.
O for pity!

Demo.
Away.

Timan.
Yet hear—

Demo.
I have heard enough, and Dirce
Shall die; her doom is seal'd.

Timan.
And if she dies—

Demo.
Art thou not gone yet?

Timan.
Yes! I will depart—
But if th'event should prove—

Demo.
Presumptuous boy!
Gods! dost thou threat?

Timan.
I know not when I speak
In prayers or threats, reason by slow degrees
Forsakes her seat—O force me not, my father,
To passion's wild extremes—I here protest—
I'll do—what may I not!—

Demo.
Speak out, ingrate!
What wilt thou do?

Timan.
All that despair can prompt.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

Demophoon
alone.
Must all insult me thus? yon' haughty princess,
My daring subject, and rebellious son?
'Tis time to vindicate my slighted power.
Guards, see that Dirce be without delay
Led to the sacrifice: from her proceed
My son's presumption, and her father's guilt:
But were she innocent, she must not live;
The kingdom's weal requires Creusa's nuptials;
And these Timanthes never will complete
Till death remove his Dirce. When the state
May be preserv'd, 'tis just to sacrifice
One life, tho' guiltless, for the general good.

[Exit.

SCENE V.

Porticoes.
Mathusius, Timanthes.
Mat.
Our only refuge then—

Timan.
Yes, dearest friend,
Our only refuge is in flight: the king,
So far from yielding to my earnest prayers,
Grew more incens'd: fly then, and fly this instant.
Provide a speedy bark, therein secure
Whate'er thou hast of choice and valued treasure:
And where amid the rocks the sea breaks in,
Right of the port, conceal'd expect me: there
I'll join thee soon with Dirce.

Mat.
But her guards—

Timan.
The care be mine to elude their vigilance;
I know a secret path that to her prison
Can lead my steps: O haste! for time neglected
Will punish those who slight occasion offer'd.

Mat.
Some friendly power its aid extends,
Some power that innocence befriends,
Has on thy soul these thoughts imprest:
Th'example of thy cruel sire
Could soft compassion ne'er inspire,
To influence thus thy generous breast.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

Timanthes
alone.
Vast is the sacrifice I make to love:
To fly to poverty, to sink myself
Even to the humble state of private life:
To lose the crown and my paternal wealth:
But dearer are my wife and son than all.
Each other good has no intrinsic worth,
Opinion makes it great. The tender feelings
Of father, husband, have their sacred spring
In nature's self: these are not bred by custom,
Or early thoughts instill'd from infant years:
The seeds are in ourselves, are with us born.
Fly then—delay no more—but who comes here?
Perchance the king—behold the guards approach!
O no!—and yet I see the holy priests,
And with them one in snowy vesture clad.
But, ha! what do I see!—Almighty powers!
It is my wife!

SCENE VII.

Enter Dirce, in white vestments, crowned with flowers, Priests and Guards.
Timan.
O stay! my Dirce! speak,
What can this mean?

Dir.
At length my hour is come;
These eyes must never, never see thee more!
O prince! how cruel is this separation!

Timan.
And does my father—

Dir.
'Tis his will that I
This instant suffer.

Timan.
Never whilst I live—

[going to draw.
Dir.
What would'st thou do, my lord! against such numbers
Thou seek'st in vain to save me, but must rush
Thyself on certain ruin.

Timan.
True, my love,
I'll seek some better way.

[going.
Dir.
But whither go'st thou?

Timan.
To draw together all the friends I have;
Go thou in peace; I'll reach the fane before thee.

Dir.
Yet think—O Heaven!—

Timan.
There is no room for thought:
My pity's turn'd to fury: tremble all
That dare oppose me: should my father's self—
My frenzy knows no bounds—let sword and flames
Destroy the palace, temple, priests and Gods!

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

Dirce, Priests, Guards.
Dir.
O stay!—he hears me not—Eternal powers!
Preserve his life—for, ah! should he be lost,
What friendly care shall guard our orphan son!
The pangs of terror for a husband's danger
Were only wanting to complete my woes:
Did I but know of whom to implore relief!

SCENE IX.

Enter Creusa.
Dir.
Ah! princess! ah! Creusa! grant me pity.
Thou canst not sure refuse a dying wretch,
Who, 'midst the bitterest grief, essays to move
Thy gentle heart, no stranger to compassion.

Creu.
Who art thou? Say, what would'st thou?

Dir.
Sure my fate
Too well is known by thee: my name is Dirce;
I go to die, yet guiltless of a crime:
I ask no pity for myself, Creusa;
But save, defend the poor distress'd Timanthes:
To guard my life, he courts his own destruction.
If e'er th'entreaties of the dying move,
O! let him find in you a kind protectress!
Appease his rage, or, O! procure his pardon
For all the frantic deeds of rash despair.

Creu.
And can it be, that on the verge of death,
Thou feel'st so deeply for another's welfare.

Dir.
Enquire no further—fate decrees him thine.

[Exit with the priests and guards to the temple.

SCENE X.

Creusa
alone.
How strong a power has beauty! If the charms
Of this afflicted thus can touch my heart,
Well may Timanthes stand excus'd, who loves her.
I scarce can hold from tears: this hapless pair
With faithful passion love, and I'm the cause
Of their misfortunes—no—forbid it, Heaven!
Some means shall yet be found—

SCENE XI.

Enter Cherinthus.
Creu.
Thou com'st, Cherinthus,
In happy time to assist me.

Cher.
Dost thou, princess,
Still seek my brother's blood?

Creu.
No; rage inspir'd
That thought, and with my rage the thought is lost:
I seek his preservation. Dirce now
Goes to be sacrific'd, Timanthes raves
In wild despair: haste thou to calm his fury,
While I, on his behalf, entreat the king.

Cher.
O goodness worthy of a princely mind!
And who would not adore thee, fair Creusa?
Ah! wert thou not so cruel to Cherinthus!

Creu.
How hast thou found Creusa cruel to thee?
This heart is different far from what thou think'st—
Perhaps—but go—thou would'st enquire too much.

Cher.

[Exit.

SCENE XII.

Creusa
alone.
Could'st thou, my dear Cherinthus, know what pain
This rigour, that offends thee, gives Creusa,
I should not seem the tyrant thou hast thought me.
'Tis true I have not yet espous'd Timanthes:
The change is easy; on myself alone
Depends the choice—but let me think—I came
To wed the kingdom's heir; and shall I yield
To live a subject where I thought to reign?
No, virtue, glory, pride forbid such weakness.

[Exit.

SCENE XIII.

The temple of Apollo. A magnificent flight of steps ascending to the temple, the inside of which is discovered to the spectators betwixt the pillars that support the building. The altars are seen thrown down, the fire extinguished, the sacred vessels overturned, the garlands, axes and other implements of sacrifice scattered upon the ground; the Priests flying, the royal Guards pursued by the friends of Timanthes, and tumult and confusion in every part.
Timanthes appears driving some of the Guards down the steps, then is lost behind the scenes. Dirce from the top of the steps calls to him with the utmost terror. A slight skirmish ensues, in which the friends of Timanthes have the advantage. The combatants being gone off, Dirce, seeing Timanthes again, runs down from the temple to stop him.
Dir.
O! all ye sacred powers of Heaven! defend him!
Hear me, Timanthes, O! in pity hear me—

Timan.
Come, come, my love, thou art safe.

Dir.
Ah me! Timanthes,
What hast thou done?

Timan.
I've done but as I ought.

Dir.
Unhappy me!—Alas! my lord, thou art wounded,
O Gods! thou art all o'er blood.

Timan.
Be not dismay'd;
The blood thou see'st ne'er issued from these veins,
'Tis what my rage from other breasts has drawn.

Dir.
Yet look!

[looking out.
Timan.
No more, my life! compose thyself,
Let us be gone.

[takes her hand.
Dir.
And leave our son Olinthus?
Where must he stay? Shall we depart without him?

Timan.
I will return for him when thou art in safety.

Dir.
Yet stay—for yonder I behold approaching
The royal guards.

Timan.
'Tis true: then let us fly
A different way—that passage too is barr'd,
Another troop draws near.

Dir.
Unhappy Dirce!

Timan.
Do all my friends forsake me?

[looking round.
Dir.
Cruel fate!
What can we more?

Timan.
This sword shall hew thy passage:
Follow me!—

[going, meets Demo.

SCENE XIV.

Enter Demophoon, his sword drawn, Guards.
Demo.
Fly not—Stay, unworthy son!

Timan.
My father! are you here against me too!

Demo.
Perfidious boy!

Timan.
Let none approach the victim.

Dir.
Yield, prince, think of thy safety.

[aside to him.
Demo.
No—forbear;
Touch him not, guards, but give his madness way,
And let us see how far it can transport him:
Complete thy glorious deeds, here in this breast
Plunge deep thy sword; thou canst not tremble, traitor,
To pierce a father, when thy impious rage
Has, in their temples, dar'd to insult the Gods!

Timan.
O Heaven!

Demo.
What is't withholds thee? Dost thou pause
To see this weapon?—Thus I cast it from me.
What would'st thou more? Behold I offer here
Thy greatest foe defenceless to thy rage.
Now glut thy secret hate, let me be punish'd
For giving birth to thee. Thou want'st but little
To be supreme in wickedness; already
Thou art travell'd far: it but remains to steep
Thy daring weapon in a parent's blood,
And give thy reeking hand to her thou lov'st.

Timan.
Enough, enough, my father! O forbear;
These keen reproaches stab me to the soul.
Behold this guilty weapon at your feet,
Behold your son offending kneels before you.
Take from him, if you will, this wretched life,
But speak not thus. I know I have transgress'd,
My fault's so great I dare not sue for pardon:
Yet sure the bitter scourge of your resentment
Is more than wretchedness like mine can bear.

Dir.
Ill-fated prince! What dost thou feel for me?

[aside.
Demo.
Had I not proofs so glaring of his perfidy,
He would seduce me—but I'll hear no more.
Yield, rebel! yield—submit thy impious hands
To slavish manacles.

Timan.
Where, where, my friends,
[to the guards.
Where are your chains? Behold these ready hands,
For never shall the son refuse to obey
The mandates of a just, offended father.

Dir.
Alas! my fears predicted but too true!

[aside.
Demo.
Lead back the victim to the insulted God,
Ye holy priests, and slay her in my presence.

Timan.
Alas! my life, I cannot now defend thee.

[to Dirce.
Dir.
How many deaths this day must I endure

Timan.
My king! my father!

Demo.
Leave me!

Timan.
Yet have pity!

Demo.
Thou ask'st in vain.

Timan.
It never shall be said
I suffer'd Dirce to be slain before me;
At least defer the stroke: hear, reverend priests!
My father hear! know Dirce ne'er can be
The victim Heaven requires—the sacrifice
Would prove a profanation.

Demo.
Speak, what mean'st thou?

Timan.
What does the God demand?

Demo.
A virgin's blood.

Timan.
Then Dirce must not here be led to death,
She's wedded—she's a mother—she's my wife.

Demo.
Ha!

Dir.
How I tremble for him!

[aside.
Demo.
Mighty Gods!
What do I hear! ye priests, suspend the rites,
Some other victim must be found. Are these
The hopes I fondly cherish'd? Impious son!
Respect'st thou thus divine and human laws?
And dost thou comfort thus thy father's age?

Dir.
Let not your wrath, my lord, be turn'd on him:
'Tis I am guilty: these unhappy charms
Caus'd all this wretchedness: 'twas I who studied
Too much to please him; I, with female wiles,
Seduc'd him first to love: 'twas I enforc'd him,
With frequent tears, to these forbidden nuptials.

Timan.
Believe it not, my lord—it is not so:
That she consented was my fault alone;
By me was every artifice employ'd:
A thousand times she banish'd me her sight,
As often I return'd: I vow'd, entreated,
Nay threaten'd, but in vain: at length she saw me
Reduc'd to all the madness of despair;
'Till in her presence, with a desperate hand,
My sword I drew, and menac'd even my life:
Then pity forc'd her to consent.

Dir.
And yet—

Demo.
Be silent both—I find an unknown something
Creep through my heart, that 'midst my just resentment,
Would soften me to tenderness and pity:
But, O! it must not be, their guilt's too great;
'Tis mine to give the world a bright example
Of steady virtue and impartial justice.
[aside.
What, ho!—let these be kept apart in prison
'Till we decree their fate.

Timan.
At least together—

Dir.
At least together in our utmost sufferings—

Demo.
Yes, yes, ingrates! one fortune shall be yours.

[Exit.

SCENE XV.

Dirce, Timanthes, Guards.
Dir.
My lord!

Timan.
My wife!

Dir.
For me must thou be lost!

Timan.
And must thou die for me!

Dir.
Ah! who henceforth
Will guard our child Olinthus!

Timan.
Cruel moment!

Dir.
Ah! then—but what avails it, prince, to sink
In unbecoming weakness! Let our grief
Be worthy of us; one short effort cuts
This cruel knot; then let us part with firmness,
Without complaining.

Timan.
Yes, bright excellence!
I praise the generous thought: let not a sigh
Escape us more.

Dir.
Now I am prepar'd—

Timan.
And I
Have steel'd my bosom.

Dir.
O! be strong my heart!

Timan.
Farewell, my Dirce!

[they part with resolution, but at the entrance of the scene turn again to look at each other.
Dir.
Prince, farewell!

Timan.
My wife!

Dir.
Timanthes!

Both.
O ye powers!

Dir.
Why go'st thou not?

Timan.
Why dost thou turn again to gaze upon me?

Dir.
Fain would I see how thou canst bear thy pains.

Timan.
But yet thou weep'st—

Dir.
And thou too sigh'st, Timanthes.

Timan.
O Heaven! how easy do we form resolves
Before the trial comes!

Dir.
Alas! how well
I thought my resolution fix'd: yet let me
At least conceal my weakness from thy sight.

Timan.
Ah! stay, my life! hear me.

Dir.
What would'st thou say?

Timan.
Thou dearst object of my care,
Instruct me how these woes to bear:
Ah! reach thy hand at least to prove
The last dear pledge of truth and love!

Dir.
This hand when fondly join'd to thine,
Was once of happiness the sign:
But now, those fleeting moments o'er,
The sign of happiness no more!

Both.
Farewell thou treasure of my heart!
Relentless fate, that bids us part,
That dooms us ne'er to meet again!
Can e'er malignant planets shed
Worse evils on the guilty head,
Than faithful love must now sustain?

[Exeunt separately.