University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Gardens adjoining to several apartments of Demophoon's palace.
Dirce, Mathusius.
Dir.
Believe me, sir, a parent's fond affection
But hurries on that evil which you dread:
Why should you hope to see your daughter's name
Alone exempted from the fatal urn?
You plead the king perhaps—

Mat.
And just the plea:
Am I, because a subject, less a father?
Apollo wills some virgin nobly born
Should stain his altar every year with blood
On this returning day; but yet excludes not
The maids of royal birth. Let him who shews
Such rigid zeal to enforce the laws divine,
Teach others patience by his own example:
Let him recall those daughters kept at distance
With artful policy: let him expose
Their names in yonder urn; and let him feel
What pangs distract a wretched parent's breast,
When his heart trembles as the priest draws near
The dreadful vase, while with a solemn mien
His lips prepare to speak the victim's name.
So may he blush with conscious shame to think
He could till now with cruel pride look on,
The tame spectator of another's woe.

Dir.
Thou know'st the laws are subject to the king.

Mat.
The laws of man, but not the laws of Heaven.

Dir.
Yet these a king explains.

Mat.
Not when the Gods
So fully speak their will.

Dir.
Yet ne'er so fully—

Mat.
Dirce, no more—I am resolv'd.

Dir.
O sir!
Reflect awhile; quick runs the flame of wrath
In mighty men, but slowly is extinguish'd:
'Twere rashness to provoke impending rage
That's arm'd with power. Alas! the king already
Beholds you with an unpropitious eye.
I dread to think, if, now too far provok'd,
He find new matter to augment his hatred,
What mischief may ensue!

Mat.
In vain thou tell'st me
Of wrath or hatred in his breast: while reason
Asserts my cause, and Heaven inspires my thoughts.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter Timanthes.
Dir.
O were my lord less distant!—Heavens! he comes.

Timan.
My dearest wife!

Dir.
Ah! hold, some ear perhaps
May catch the unwary sound. Remember, prince,
A subject whose presumptuous love has dar'd
To match with royal blood, must yield her life
A forfeit for the offence.

Timan.
Fear not, my love!
None hears, nor shall—Timanthes is thy guard.

Dir.
What friendly power restores thee to my arms!

Timan.
My father's mandate brings me from the camp;
The cause to me unknown. But tell me, Dirce,
Dost thou still love me? Art thou still the same,
As when I left thee at the call of honour;
And are thy thoughts still constant to Timanthes?

Dir.
And canst thou ask me? Canst thou doubt my faith?

Timan.
O Heaven! I doubt thee not; I know thy truth:
But yet forgive me, if my too fond heart
Delights to hear the pleasing sound repeated
From those dear lips. How fares my boy Olinthus,
The precious pledge of our connubial joys?
Say, does his beauty with his years increase?
Do his young features speak a father's likeness,
Or bloom they with a mother's softer charms?

Dir.
Already have his tender feet begun
To form uncertain steps: his looks already
Assume the manly sternness, mix'd with grace,
That charm'd me in his sire: but when he smiles
He's all thyself; then fondly gazing on him
Methinks I look on thee: how oft deceiv'd
With the dear thought, I strain him to my bosom,
And in the son embrace the absent father.

Timan.
Where is he now, my Dirce? Lead me to him;
O let me see my boy!

Dir.
Forbear, my lord,
Awhile suppress a parent's tenderness:
He lives conceal'd; but 'midst the observing eyes
That round us watch, to attempt access to him,
At every hour, were dangerous. Oh! what anguish
Attends the mystery of our loves conceal'd!

Timan.
I'm weary of dissembling thus; no more
I'll bear these doubts and fears: this day shall yield
Some blest expedient to relieve our pains.

Dir.
Alas! still greater dangers now impend:
This is the day of annual sacrifice;
And Dirce's name must stand the fatal chance.
Such is the king's command, my anxious father
Has dar'd to oppose it, and from their contention
My fears increase.

Timan.
And does Mathusius know
Our hands are join'd in Hymen's sacred ties?

Dir.
Forbid it, Heaven! for Dirce then were lost.

Timan.
Yet hear me; let us now persuade the king
To seek the Oracle again; by this
At least we gain more time for further thought.

Dir.
Already this is done.

Timan.
And what success?

Dir.
Short was the answer, and in terms obscure.
“Beneath the wrath of Heaven your land must groan,
“'Till time disclose the secret cause to light;
“'Till to himself reveal'd the offender's known,
“Who guiltless now usurps a prince's right.”

Timan.
Darkness and clouds!

Dir.
And should my lot be drawn
For this day's sacrifice, what hopes remain?
I fear not death; no, for her country's sake,
Most gladly Dirce would submit to fate:
But Phœbus' words demand a virgin's blood.
Shall I, a wife and mother, dare approach
His sacred altars, an unhallow'd victim?
Thus if I speak or not, I still am guilty;
My silence Heaven, my speech offends the king.

Timan.
In desperate dangers desperate means are needful:
The king must know the story of our nuptials.

Dir.
But how to evade the sentence of the law
Impending o'er my head?

Timan.
A monarch made,
A monarch can revoke the stern decree.
Demophoon, though severe, is yet a father,
And I a son: full well, my love, we know
By fond experience what those names import;
Nor do I now obscurely come before him:
I bring all Scythia vanquish'd, Phasis quell'd,
To welcome my return: my father sure
May yield me some reward for kingdoms conquer'd.
If these suffice not, tears at least shall move him;
I'll kneel a suppliant at his awful throne,
Embrace his knees, and melt him to compassion.

Dir.
Alas!—I doubt.

Timan.
My Dirce, doubt no more;
Commit thy future destiny to me:
Go then, but let this fix'd assurance still
Dwell in thy mind, and calm thy troubled thoughts;
Timanthes will be ever watchful o'er thee,
And hold thy peace far dearer than his own.

Dir.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Timanthes
alone.
O Fortune! wherefore did thy lavish hand
Bestow on Dirce every female charm;
Beauty unmatch'd, and virtue scarcely human,
Yet blindly place her in a subject's rank?
But be it so—it rests on me to amend
The partial error: Thrace, some future day,
With joy shall view her partner of my throne.
But see, my father comes; no longer let me
Conceal the secret from him.

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.
'Tis thine to merit, to reward is mine:
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.
Demo.
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
A kingdom's dowery with her love, herself
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—

SCENE V.

Enter Adrastus.
Adras.
The Phrygian ships, my lord, have gain'd the port.

Demo.
Then go, Timanthes, haste to meet thy bride.

Timan.
Who, I, my lord?

Demo.
Yes, thou, my son; myself
Would with thee thither, but the mournful rites
Of sacrifice demand me at the temple.

Timan.
Yet stay and hear me, sir—

Demo.
What would'st thou? Speak.

Timan.
Hear me confess—but whither am I driven?
Yet let me ask you—O my tortur'd soul!
O sir! the sacrifice!—the law—my wife!
O direful law! O most unhappy bride!
O cruel sacrifice and fatal chance.

Demo.
No more—I cannot now prolong the time.
The terms are settled, prince, my promise given:
A monarch's word is sacred, he who rules
Must guard his faith unstain'd; and oft we find
Virtue the offspring of necessity.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

Timanthes
alone.
What guilt has Dirce known, malignant stars!
That thus you join to heap afflictions on her?
You, who were present at the blameless union,
Ye powers! protect the love yourselves inspir'd.
This stroke has chill'd my heart, and all in vain
I strive to call my wandering spirits home.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

A sea port finely decorated for the arrival of the princess of Phrygia. A view of several ships, from the most magnificent of which Creusa and Cherinthus, accompanied by a numerous train, disembark to the sound of various barbarous instruments.
Creusa, Cherinthus.
Creu.
What means this sadness, prince, that hangs upon you?
Why are you pensive thus? with silent gaze
You look and sigh; and if with friendly speech
I urge your converse, when you seem prepar'd
To tell me much, your faltering tongue is mute.
Where is your wonted cheerfulness, the grace
That season'd your discourse? Are you in Thrace
The same Cherinthus that I knew in Phrygia?
Or is it thus, with melancholy looks,
You Thracians to her lord conduct a bride?
Is this the omen of my future nuptials?

Cher.
If my afflictions bear a sad presage,
On me, fair princess, every evil fall:
My stars can little add to griefs like mine;
Nor breathes a wretch so hopeless as Cherinthus!

Creu.
Am I unworthy to be told your sorrows,
That thus you slight my counsel and assistance?

Cher.
Must I then speak? I will, I will obey you:
From the first moment—from that fatal day—
Alas! I dare no more—forgive my silence:
My speech I fear would but incite your anger.

Creu.
Your diffidence already has deserv'd it;
'Tis true I am a woman, and your secret
Were ill confided to a female breast:
I urge no further—lead me to the palace.

Cher.
O Heavens! yet stay:—be calm and I will speak:
'Tis thou alone hast robb'd me of my peace:
I gaze with rapture on thy matchless charms;
I know my love is vain, and know that death
Alone can fix a period to my sufferings:
Princess, behold the cause—

Creu.
What means this boldness?

Cher.
I knew too well I should offend—

Creu.
Cherinthus;
From thee at least I hop'd for more respect.

Cher.
The faults of love—

Creu.
Forbear; I'll hear no more.

[going.
Cher.
Since you've compell'd me to reveal my crime,
Vouchsafe to hear th'excuse.

Creu.
What canst thou say?

Cher.
That though I love thee, I deserve thy pity:
If there's a crime, Demophoon is the guilty.
My father should have found some other hand
To bring thee to Timanthes: shall he wonder,
Who thoughtless ventures fuel near the fire,
If flames are kindled? Thou hast charms, and I
Have eyes to view: I saw, admir'd and lov'd:
Each day beheld me near thee, while the name
Of kinsman gave a license to my tongue.
Nor did this name alone deceive the world,
I was deceiv'd myself: that love which made
Me sigh for ever for Creusa's presence,
Appear'd but duty: and a thousand times
I thought to paint the affections of a brother,
While my too eager speech betray'd my own.

Creu.
Alas! too plain I saw it all— [aside.]
Such boldness,
So unexpected, strikes me dumb with wonder.

Cher.
And yet sometimes I felt a flattering hope
That secret sympathy inspir'd our souls.
Methought I oft observ'd a tender sigh
Steal from thy breast, view'd in thy eyes a softness
That seem'd much more than friendship—

Creu.
Hold, Cherinthus:
Thou dost begin to abuse my easy nature:
But let me hear thee speak no more of love.

Cher.
What can this mean?

Creu.
Attend, and mark me well:
If from this hour thou dost not learn a converse
More suited to our state, no longer dare
Appear before me—now, thou know'st my meaning.

Cher.

[going.
Creu.
But whither go'st thou?—stay.

Cher.
Forbear—my presence
Too much offends you.

Creu.
Hear me.

Cher.
By my stay
I should insult your patience.

Creu.
Say, Cherinthus,
At whose command dost thou depart?

Cher.
Too well
I understand thee, though thou speak'st it not.

Creu.
Ah! prince! how ill thou know'st me; from that hour—
O Heavens!

Cher.
Go on—

Creu.
From that ill-fated hour—
What am I saying!—leave me if thou wilt.

Cher.
Inhuman princess! yes, I will depart;
And yet perhaps—But see, my brother comes!

SCENE VIII.

Enter Timanthes in haste.
Timan.
Cherinthus, say, is this the Phrygian princess?

Cher.
It is.

Timan.
I would converse in private with her;
Vouchsafe a moment to retire apart.

Cher.
I shall obey—O torture!

[aside, retires.
Creu.
Sir! my lord!

Timan.
Imperial virgin! we are both in danger:
And thou alone canst, if thou wilt, preserve
Creusa's glory and Timanthes' life.

Creu.
What has befallen?

Timan.
Our parents have decreed
An union to thyself perhaps ungrateful,
By me unsought: thy regal virtues, princess,
Deserve a God far rather than Timanthes.
But Fate forbids me to become thy husband;
There is a bar which nothing can surmount;
My father knows it not, nor can I speak it:
'Tis yours to avert the shame of a refusal:
Prevent—refuse me first—say, I'm displeasing—
Enlarge my faults, say all thou wilt, despise me;
And by this only means our fate has left us,
At once preserve thy fame, my peace and life.

Creu.
Indeed!—

Timan.
I can no longer stay: my brother,
Do thou conduct the princess to the palace.

Creu.
Tell me at least—

Timan.
Already have I told
Whate'er my breast conceal'd—reflect—farewell!

[Exit.

SCENE IX.

Cherinthus, Creusa.
Creu.
Gods! to Creusa, to the royal heir
Of Phrygia's sceptre this affront!—Cherinthus,
Hast thou a heart?

Cher.
I had; but thou, fair princess,
Hast now depriv'd me of it.

Creu.
If thou lov'st me,
Avenge my injur'd honour: all I have,
My heart, my hand, my bed, my throne are thine:
I shall not set a bound to my reward.

Cher.
What canst thou ask?

Creu.
The blood of bold Timanthes.

Cher.
My brother!—

Creu.
Art thou pale? Go, coward wretch!
I'll find some other will deserve my love.

Cher.
Yet hear me, princess!

Creu.
Peace; I'll hear no more:
I see your mutual purpose to betray me.

Cher.
Canst thou so far distrust my faithful passion?

Creu.
I scorn thy passion whether false or true.

[Exit.

SCENE X.

Cherinthus
alone.
Ye powers! what means this storm! How could Timanthes
Excite her anger thus?—To bid me steep
This hand in brother's blood! the thought alone
Chills me with horror!—with what fix'd resentment,
And pride she spoke! yet even her rage can please;
I find still something claim my admiration,
And soften every passion into love.

[Exit.

SCENE XI.

Mathusius in haste, with Dirce by the hand.
Dir.
Ah! whither, whither must I go, my lord?

Mat.
Far hence, remote to Lybia's inmost deserts,
To wild Hircania's woods, or Scythia's rocks;
Or to some land unknown, by distant seas
Divided from the abodes of human kind.

Dir.
Ah me!

Mat.
Why, fathers, for your children's sake,
Exert your anxious care? Behold the fruits;
See what respect the laws of nature find.

Dir.
Alas! he surely knows the fatal secret;
Our marriage is discover'd: heavenly powers!
[aside.
Pity me, sir!

Mat.
There is no pity left,
Nor faith; all, all is lost!

Dir.
See at your feet—

Mat.
What wouldst thou?

Dir.
Here I'll weep such floods of tears—

Mat.
Thy fortune calls for something more than tears.

Dir.
Then learn—

Mat.
Await me here; I fly with speed
To seek some vessel to transport us hence.

[Exit.

SCENE XII.

Dirce
alone.
Ah! to what region must I now be led
To end my wretched life! my child! my child!
Poor innocent! and you, my much-lov'd lord,
O Gods! what torture to forsake you thus
Without one parting look!

SCENE XIII.

Enter Timanthes.
Timan.
My life! my Dirce!
And have I found thee then?

Dir.
My dearest lord!
Farewell, farewell for ever! to thy care
I here commend my child; for me embrace him,
Give him this kiss, and when his ripening age
Can feel compassion, tell him all my sufferings.

Timan.
What says my love? Thou mak'st my blood run cold—

Dir.
Alas! our union is no more a secret;
My father knows it all, and wild with rage
Will bear me distant hence; I know him well,
There is no hope remains.

Timan.
Be comforted,
Compose thy troubled breast, my love, my wife,
Thou hast thy husband with thee.

SCENE XIV.

Enter Mathusius in haste.
Mat.
Dirce, fly,
Let us be gone.

Timan.
Dirce must not depart.

Mat.
And who forbids it?

Timan.
That shall I.

Mat.
Indeed!

Dir.
O Heaven!

Mat.
This sword shall guard a father's right.

[draws.
Timan.
And this shall vindicate the rights I claim.

[draws.
Dir.
Ah! prince! what would'st thou do?—O hold, my father!

Mat.
Impious! to oppose me when I seek to save
A guiltless maid from cruel sacrifice.

Dir.
O Gods!

Timan.
But thus—

Dir.
O peace: I was deceiv'd;
All yet is secret—

[aside to Timanthes.
Mat.
Canst thou then desire
To see her perish?

Dir.
My unguarded terror
Had near betray'd me.

[aside.
Timan.
Pardon, sir, this rashness;
Appearance has misled me; I beheld
Thy angry gestures, saw her streaming tears,
I had no time for thought, but deem'd it piety
To save her from thy rage.

Mat.
Obstruct not therefore
Our purpos'd flight: if longer Dirce stays,
She must be made the victim.

Dir.
Heavenly powers!

Timan.
Has then her name been drawn?

Mat.
No, but thy father
Has most unjustly doom'd her guiltless life,
Without the sentence of the fatal urn.

Timan.
Why should his anger kindle thus against thee?

Mat.
To punish me because I durst attempt
To exclude my daughter from the lots of death:
Because I durst produce his own example;
Because the struggles of a father's fears
Made me forget the subject.

Dir.
Mighty powers!
All has conspir'd to hasten my destruction.

Timan.
Doubt not, Mathusius: nor believe the king
Can prove so cruel; though his rage at first
Bears all before it, cooler reason soon
Succeeds and softens all.

SCENE XV.

Enter Adrastus with Guards.
Adras.
Guards! seize on Dirce.

[guards surround her.
Mat.
Did I not tell thee, prince?

Timan.
What means this violence?

Dir.
O me unhappy!

Timan.
For what cause is Dirce
Secur'd a prisoner?

Adras.
'Tis the king's command;
Conduct her hence.

Dir.
Ah! whither?

Adras.
Hapless maid,
Soon shalt thou know.

Dir.
O prince!—my father, help—
Have pity on me.

Timan.
No; it ne'er shall be—

[draws.
Mat.
Shall I permit—

[draws.
Adras.
If either dare approach,
Behold I plunge this poniard in her breast.

Timan.
Impious!

Mat.
Unfeeling wretch!

Adras.
The royal mandate
Shall justify my deeds.

Dir.
Ah then—

Adras.
Dispatch;
For, Dirce, all thy fond complaints are vain.

Dir.
I come.

[going.
Timan., Mat.
Barbarian!

[going to attack Adrastus.
Adras.
Hold.

[about to strike.
Timan., Mat.
O stay, inhuman!

Dir.
Forgive—my father—O my heart!
Remember, prince!—thus, thus to part!
Since I must die, 'twere some relief,
In words at least to vent my grief:
Why should I now such woe sustain,
Yet Fate forbid me to complain?
O say, ye powers! what crime unknown,
Has drawn on me your vengeance down?

[Exit with Adrastus, guarded.

SCENE XVI.

Timanthes, Mathusius.
Timan.
O give me counsel, Gods!

Mat.
Earth opens not,
Nor lightnings fly to punish such injustice;
And shall we say Jove watches o'er mankind?

Timan.
Let us not waste, my friend, these precious moments;
Go and observe where Dirce is conducted,
Myself, meantime, will haste to appease my father.

Mat.
I have no comfort left.

Timan.
O Heavens! delay not,
For should the king's resentment still continue,
Some other means shall save her.

Mat.
Generous prince!
Thy virtues might deserve a better father.

[embraces him.—Exit.
Timan.

[Exit.