University of Virginia Library

ACT the THIRD.

Ariadne, Theseus.
Ariadne.
Oh! look not thus; those eyes that glare so pale,
Those sighs that heave, as they would burst your heart,
Affright my soul, and kill me with despair.
Oh! banish all thy doubts, and let those eyes
Smile, as when first they beam'd their softness on me.

Theseus.
Alas! I'm doom'd to mourn; my thread of life
Was steep'd in tears, and must for ever run
Black and discolour'd with the worst of woes.

Ariadne.
Can thy great heart thus shrink, appall'd with fear?
Theseus, I never saw thee thus before.

Theseus.
Our days of rapture and of promis'd joy
Far hence are fled.

Ariadne.
No, on their rosy wings
The hours of joy and ever new delight
Come smiling on. Is this a time for fear,
When all is gay serenity around us,
And Fortune opens all her brightest scenes?

Theseus.
Too soon that scene, with low'ring clouds deform'd,
Will shew the sad reverse. You little know
How Periander with resistless fury
Breaks thro' all bounds. His passions scorn restraint,
And what he wills, his vehemence of soul
Pursues with fierce, with unremitting ardour.
To his wild fury all must yield obedience.

Ariadne.
His reign has ever been both mild and just.
Fair virtue, like some god that rules the storm,
Still calms the warring elements within him;
And moderation with her golden curb
Guides all his actions.

Theseus.
Yet there is an impulse,
Which with the whirlwind's unresisted rage,
Roots up each virtue, and lays waste the soul.
Love reigns a lawless tyrant in his heart.
For thee he sighs; and sure that matchless beauty
May well inflame the passions of a prince,
Who with a diadem can deck thy brow.

Ariadne.
Too well he knows the ties that bind us both.
Knows you're all truth, all constancy and love.
He knows the flame my virgin sighs have own'd;
Knows that for thee I left my native land,
Fled from my friends, and from my father's palace,
And gave up all for thee. And thinks he now
His throne, his diadem, his purple pomp,
Have charms of pow'r to lure me from thy arms?
He knows his vows are lost in air: Thy heart
Is Ariadne's throne.

Theseus.
His fiercest passions
Break forth at once, like the deep cavern'd fire,
All ties, all tender motives must give way.
His resolution's fix'd. This very day,
Unless for ever I renounce thy love,
His jealous rage sends me hence bound in chains,
To die a victim on the Cretan shore.

Ariadne.
He will not dare it; no, so black an outrage
His heart will ne'er conceive. Should he persist,
Should malice goad him on, I too can fly
This barb'rous shore; with unextinguish'd love
Thro' ev'ry region, ev'ry clime attend thee;
Follow your fortunes, if the fates ordain it,
Ev'n to my father's court; there prostrate fall,
And clasp his hand, and bathe it with my tears,
Nor cease with vehemence of grief to melt him,
Till he release thee to these circling arms,
Approve my choice, and shew thee to the people,
The adopted heir, the rising sun of Crete.

Theseus.
By yielding me, his rival is destroy'd;
And by that act his proud ambition hopes
To sooth your father's irritated pride,
And mould him to his wish.

Ariadne.
Can Periander
Harbour that black intent? and does he mean
To prove at first a villain and a murderer,
And then aspire to Ariadne's love?
No, Theseus, no: he will not stoop so vilely:
I've heard you oft commend him; oft my sister
Employs whole hours with rapture in his praise.
He is her constant theme. Her partial voice
Ev'n above thine exalts his fav'rite name.
She dwells on each particular; in peace
His milder virtues, his great fame in arms:
How, when he talks, fond admiration listens:
And each bright princess hears him, and adores.

Theseus.
Not envy's self, howe'er his pride inflam'd
May deal with me, can overshade his glory.
Renown in war is his; the softer virtues
Of mild humanity adorn his name.
The polish'd arts of peace, and ev'ry muse
Attune to finer sentiments his soul.
His throne is fix'd upon the firmest basis
Of wisdom, and of justice. There to shine
The partner of his heart, his soft associate
In that bright scene of glory, well may prompt
In ev'ry neighb'ring state the virgin's sigh,
And wake th' ambition of each monarch's daughter.

Ariadne.
The strain, the rapture that to me in secret
My sister Phædra pours the live-long day,
Enamour'd of his name! Perchance you've heard her,
And mark'd the heaving sigh, and seen the blush
That glow'd with conscious crimson on her cheek.
Oh! if she cherishes the tender flame,
With maiden coyness veil'd, and pines in love,
Beauty like her's may fire a monarch's heart,
And Periander, without shame or guilt,
Without a crime, may woe her to his arms.
To see her happy, to behold my Phædra
Crown'd with a monarch's and a people's love,
Would be the pride of Ariadne's heart.

Theseus.
Oh! it were misery, the worst of woes.

(aside).
Ariadne.
Why do you start? why that averted look?
If you approve their nuptials, freely tell me:
With Periander I can plead her cause,
Paint forth each charm of that accomplish'd mind,
'Till the king glow with rapture at the sound.

Theseus.
Oh! this would plunge me in the worst despair.
(aside)
It must not be.—Has not Pirithous told you—

Ariadne.
Pirithous is your friend.—Perhaps to draw
The tie still closer, you would see him bless'd
In Phædra's arms.—Tell me your inmost thoughts.
If such your will, what will I not attempt
To sooth to dear delight a mind like thine?
Phædra will listen to me; mutual love
Has so endear'd us, from our tend'rest years
Has so encreas'd, and with our growth kept pace,
That we have had one wish, one heart, one mind.
My voice with Phædra will have all the pow'r
Of soft persuasion: her exalted merit
Will bless your friend and brighten all his days.

Theseus.
Oh! the bare image fires my brain to madness.
(aside.)
Alas! this dream of happiness—

Ariadne.
What means
That sudden cloud? and why that lab'ring sigh?
Oh! let my sister to Pirithous' vows
Yield her consent, and bless him with her beauty:
Together we will seek the realms of Greece;
There in sweet union see our growing loves
Spring with new rapture, share each other's bliss,
And by imparting multiply our joys.

Enter Archon.
Archon.
With thee, fair princess, Periander craves
Another interview: He enters now
The palace garden.

Ariadne.
Does he there require
My presence?

Archon.
Where you deign to give him audience,
He will attend you.

Theseus.
It were best go forth.
His virtues claim respect; and oh! remember
My fate, my happiness on thee depend.

Ariadne.
Trust Ariadne, trust your fate with me.

[Exit.
Theseus, Archon.
Archon.
The Cretan princess with resistless passion
Inflames his fierce desires. My boding fears
Foresee some dire event.

Theseus.
A glance from her
Will sooth his rage, and all may still be well.
When love resistless fires the noble mind,
Th' effects, though sudden, from that gen'rous source,
Are oft excus'd; the errors of our nature,
The tender weakness of the human heart.

Archon.
Errors that influence the public weal,
His rank prohibits.—Let his vices be,
(If vices he must have) obscure and private,
Unfelt by men, leaving no trace behind.
It were unjust, that his unbounded fury
Should tear thee from the arms of her you love.

Theseus.
But when a monarch—Ha! Pirithous comes.

Enter Pirithous.
Pirithous.
Theseus, I sought thee.—Archon, does your king
Relent? or must confed'rate Greece send forth
Her fleets and armies to support her rights?

Archon.
The miseries of war my feeble voice
Shall labour to prevent. Theseus, farewell.
Archon is still your friend. With Ariadne,
Ere long, I trust, you may revisit Greece.

[Exit.
Theseus, Pirithous.
Theseus.
With her revisit Greece! Why all this zeal
For Ariadne? Who has tamper'd with him?
Why not convey her to her father's court?
Why not invite her to the throne of Naxos?
Why all this busy, this officious care
To torture me? to foil his sov'reign's love?
To send far hence the idol of his heart,
And blend her fate with mine?

Pirithous.
Her fate with thine
So close is blended, nothing can divide them.
Truth, honour, justice, gratitude combine
Each tender sentiment; they form a chain,
An adamantine chain, indissoluble, firm,
And strong as that which from the throne of Jove
Hangs down to draw to harmony and union
This universal frame.

Theseus.
Is this my friend?

Pirithous.
Your friend, who scorns to flatter;
Who dares avow th' emotions of his heart.
Oh! Theseus, we have long together walk'd
The paths of virtue, upright, firm in honour;
And shall we now decline? and shall we now
With fraud, with perfidy, with blackest perfidy,
For ever damn our names?

Theseus.
This stern reproof
Is not the language the time now demands.
'Tis thine, my friend, to soften my distress;
To pour the balm of comfort o'er my sorrows,
And soothe the anguish of a wounded mind.
Oh! step between me and the keen reproaches
Of injur'd beauty; save me from myself;
From Ariadne save me.

Pirithous.
Is it thus,
Oh! rash deluded man! and is it thus
With high disdain you spurn that rarest beauty,
That fond, believing, unsuspecting fair?

Theseus.
Have you not painted to her dazzled fancy
The splendor of a throne, that here awaits her?

Pirithous.
So gen'rous, so unbounded is her love,
She seeks but thee, thee only. Pomp and splendor
Are toys that sink, and fade away before her.

Theseus.
Then tell her all the truth: tell her at once,
Another flame is kindled in my heart,
And fate ordains she never can be mine.

Pirithous.
Will that become Pirithous? that the task
Thy friendship would impose? Must I proclaim
To th' astonish'd world, my friend's dishonour?
Must I with cruelty, with felon purpose,
Approach that excellence, that beauteous form,
And for her gen'rous love, for all her virtue,
Fix in her tender breast the sharpest pang,
With which ingratitude can stab the heart?

Theseus.
Why wilt thou goad me thus? 'tis cruelty;
'Tis malice in disguise.—Forbear, forbear;
Assist your friend in the soft cause of love,
Involuntary love, that hold's enslav'd
The fetter'd will.

Pirithous.
Involuntary love!
Beware, beware of the deceitful garb
That vice too oft assumes.—There's not a purpose
Prompting to evil deeds, that dares appear
In it's own native form. The first approach
With bland allurements, with insidious mien,
Wears the delusive semblance of some virtue.
The Siren spreads her charms, and Fancy lends
Her thousand hues to deck the lurking crime.
Opinion changes; 'tis no longer guilt;
'Tis amiable weakness, gen'rous frailty,
Involuntary error. On we rush
By fatal error led, and thus the language,
The sophistry of vice deludes us all.

Theseus.
Pirithous, 'tis in vain: in vain you strive,
By subtle maxims, and by pedant reas'ning
To talk down love, and mould it to your will.
It rages here like a close pent-up fire.
And think'st thou tame advice can check its course,
And soothe to rest the fever of the soul?

Pirithous.
And wilt thou thus, by one ungen'rous deed,
Blast all your laurels, and give up at once
To shame and infamy thy honour'd name?

Theseus.
Wouldst thou destroy my peace of mind for ever?

Pirithous.
I would preserve it. Wouldst thou still enjoy
Th' attesting suffrage of the conscious heart?
The road is plain and level: live with honour.
Be all your deeds, such as become a man.
'Tis that alone can give th' unclouded spirit,
The pure serenity of inward peace.
All else is noisy fame; the giddy shout
Of gazing multitudes, that soon expires,
And leaves our laurels, and our martial glory
To wither and decay. By after times
The roar of fond applause no more is heard.
The triumph ceases, and the hero then
Fades to the eye: the faithless man remains.

Theseus.
Was it for this you spread your sails from Greece?
To aggravate my sorrows?—If a monarch
Woos Ariadne to his throne and bed;
If I resign her to imperial splendor,
Where is my guilt? Why will she not accept
The bright reward, that waits to crown her virtues?

Pirithous.
Because, like thee, she is not prone to change.

Theseus.
Why, cruel, why thus pierce my very soul?

Pirithous.
Because, like thee, she knows not to betray.

Theseus.
Disastrous fate. And wouldst thou have me fly
From Phædra's arms? By every solemn vow,
By every sacred tie, by love itself,
My heart is her's. She is my only source
Of present bliss, my best, my only earnest
Of future joy; the idol of my soul.
Should I desert her, can invention find,
'Midst all her stores, a tint of specious colouring
To varnish the deceit?

Pirithous.
It wants no varnish,
No specious colouring. Plain honest truth
Will justify the deed. With open firmness
Go, talk with Phædra: tell her with remorse
Conscience has shewn the horrors of your guilt.
Tell her the vows, you breathed to Ariadne,
Were heard above, recorded by the gods.
Tell her, if still she spreads her fatal lure,
She takes a perjur'd traitor to her arms,
Practis'd in fraud, who may again deceive.
Tell her, with equal guilt, nor less abhor'd,
She joins to rob a sister of her rights.
Tell her that Greece—

Theseus.
No more; I'll hear no more.
Assist my love; 'tis there I ask your aid.
Forget my fame; it is not worth my care.

Pirithous.
Then, go, rush on, devoted to destruction.
Let Hymen kindle his unhallow'd torch,
Clasp'd in each others arms enjoy your guilt.
Renounce all sacred honour; add your name
To the bright list of those illustrious worthies,
Who have seduc'd, by vile insidious arts,
The fond affections of the gen'rous fair;
And in return for all her wond'rous goodness,
Left the fair mourner to deplore her fate;
To pine in solitude, and die at length
Of the slow pangs that rend the broken heart.

Theseus.
Oh! fortune, fortune!—wherefore was I born
With a great heart, that loves, that honours virtue,
And yet thus fated to be passion's slave?

Pirithous.
'Tis but one effort, and you tow'r above
The little frailties that debase your nature.
That were true victory, worth all your conquests.
You triumph o'er yourself. And lo! behold
Th' occasion offers.—Ariadne comes!

Theseus.
I must not see her now.

Pirithous.
By heav'n, you shall.

Theseus.
Off, loose your hold. Confusion, shame, and horror,
Rage and despair, distract and rend my soul.
'Tis you have fix'd these scorpions in my breast.

Pirithous.
And yet—

(holding him.)
Theseus.
No more; let midnight darkness hide me
In some deep cave, where I may dwell with madness,
Far from the world, far from a friend like thee.

[Exit.
Pirithous.
Misguided man! my friendship still shall save him.

Ariadne, Pirithous.
Ariadne.
Stay, Theseus, stay: does he avoid my presence?
Why with that haste, that wild disorder'd look—

Pirithous.
'Tis now the moment of suspended fate:
The gods assembled hold th' uplifted balance,
And my friend's peace, all that is dear, or sacred,
His fame, and honour tremble in the scale.

Ariadne.
The gods protect him still: you need not fear.
All danger flies before him.

Pirithous.
While the king
Detains him here, he knows to what excess
A monarch's love—

Ariadne.
Does that alarm his fear?
And does he therefore fly?—Ungen'rous Theseus!
And is it thus you judge of Ariadne?
And yet, Pirithous, I will not upbraid him.
His tender sensibility of heart
Too quickly takes th' alarm: yet that alarm
Shews with what strong solicitude he loves;
My tears prevail, and he may sail for Greece.
This very moment Periander granted—
See, where he comes: he will confirm it all.

Pirithous.
It were not fit he should behold me here.
When apt occasion serves, we'll meet again.
A heart like yours, with every virtue fraught,
Should be no more deceiv'd. I now withdraw.

[Exit.
Ariadne.
Go, tell my Theseus all his fears are vain.
In love, as well as war, he still must triumph.

Periander, Ariadne.
Periander.
If once again I trouble your retreat,
Deem me not, princess, too importunate,
Nor with indignant scorn reject a heart,
That throbs in every vein for thee alone.

Ariadne.
Scorn in your presence, Sir, no mind can feel.
Far other sentiments your martial glory,
And the mild feelings of your gen'rous nature,
Excite in every breast. The crown you wear,
From virtue's purest ray derives it's lustre.
Your subjects own a father in their king.
Beneath your sway the wretched ever find
A sure retreat. At Periander's court
All hearts rejoice: here mis'ry dries her tear.
To me your kind humanity has giv'n
It's best protection. For the gen'rous act
My heart o'erflows: these tears attest my thanks.
To you each day beholds me bow with praise,
Respect, and gratitude.

Periander.
And must respect,
Fruitless respect, and distant cold regard,
Be all my lot? Has heav'n no other bliss
In store for me? unhappy royalty!
Condemn'd to shine in solitary state,
With no fond tenderness of mutual hope,
To soothe the heart, and sweeten all its cares;
Without the soft society of love.

Ariadne.
For thee the gods reserve sublimer joys,
The happiness supreme of serving millions.
'Tis your's, in war to guard a people's rights;
In peace, to spread one common bliss to all,
And feel the raptures of that best ambition.
Mankind demand you: glory is your call.

Periander.
Ambition is the phrenzy of the soul;
The fierce insatiate avarice of glory,
That wades through blood, and marks it's way with ruin:
And when it's toils are o'er, what then remains,
But to look back through wide dispeopled realms?
Where nature mourns o'er all the dreary waste,
And hears the widows', and the orphans' shrieks,
And sees each laurel wither at the groans,
And the deep curses of a ruin'd people.
Vain efforts all! vain the pursuit of glory,
Unless bright beauty arm us for the field,
Hail our return, enhance the victor's prize,
And love reward what love itself inspir'd.

Ariadne.
The vast renown, that spreads such lustre round you,
Like the bright sun, that dims all meaner rays,
And makes a desert in the blue expanse,
Will never want uplifted wond'ring eyes
To gaze upon it. From the neighb'ring states
Some blooming virgin, some illustrious princess
Will yield with rapture to a monarch's love,
Proud of a throne, which virtue has adorn'd.

Periander.
That pow'r is your's: one kind indulgent glance,
One smile, the harbinger of soft consent,
Has bliss in store beyond the reach of fortune,
Beyond ambition's wish.

Ariadne.
Your pardon, Sir.
I must not hear you sigh, and sigh in vain.
Look round your isle, where in it's fairest forms,
In all it's winning graces, beauty decks
Your splendid court. Amidst the radiant train,
If none has touch'd your heart, may I presume—
Perhaps you'll think mine a too partial voice—
If none attract you, see where Phædra shines
In every grace, in each attractive charm
Of outward form, and dignity of mind.
Her rare perfections, her unequall'd virtue,
The mild affections of her gen'rous heart,
Her friendship firm, in ev'ry instance tried,
Transcend all praise. In her pure virgin breast
Love never kindled yet his secret flame.
Your voice may wake desires unfelt before:
With pride she'll listen, and may crown your vows
With all th' endearments of a love sincere,
And with her softer lustre grace your throne.

Periander.
Why, cruel, torture me with cold disdain?
With thee to reign were Periander's glory.

Ariadne.
Oh! not for me that glory: well you know
This heart already is another's right.

Periander.
There lies the precipice on which you tread.
By your own hand 'tis cover'd o'er with flowr's:
Your fall will first discover it.

Ariadne.
Those words
Dark and mysterious—

Periander.
It were not fit
That fond credulity should lead you on
In gay delusion, and in errors maze.
The base deceiver—

Ariadne.
Who?—what dost thou mean?

Periander.
I mean to save you from his treach'rous arts;
To place you on a throne, beyond his reach,
Where foul ingratitude will see her shafts
Fall pow'rless at your feet.

Ariadne.
Cold tremors shoot,—
I know not why,—through all my trembling frame—

Periander.
Tender, sincere, and generous yourself,
You little know the arts of faithless man.

Ariadne.
Explain; unfold; you freeze my soul with horror.

Periander.
Beware of Theseus!

Ariadne.
How! of Theseus saidst thou?

Periander.
Were I this day to send him hence a victim,
(And you alone, your tears suspend my purpose)
'Twere vengeance due to perfidy like his.

Ariadne.
The viper-tongue of slander wrongs him much.
Too well I know his worth: my heart's at peace.

Periander.
With fond enchantment the gay Siren hope
Has lur'd you, on a calm unruffled sea,
To trust a smiling sky, and flatt'ring gales.
Too soon you'll see that sky deform'd with clouds;
Too soon you'll wonder at the gath'ring storm,
And look aghast at the deep lurking ruin,
Where all your hopes must perish.

Ariadne.
Still each word
Is wrapt in darkness: end this dread suspense,
Or else my flutt'ring soul will soon forsake me,
And leave me at your feet a breathless corse.

Periander.
A former flame—restrain that wild surprize;
Summon your strength:—I speak his very words:
A former flame, kindled long since in Greece,
Preys on his heart with slow consuming fires.

Ariadne.
Does this become a monarch? Can your pride
Thus lowly stoop, thus with a tale suborn'd
To tempt the honour of this faithful breast?

Periander.
By ev'ry pow'r that views the heart of man,
And watches mortal thoughts, tis truth I utter.
Last night admitted to a private audience,
He own'd it all; renounc'd your love for ever;
Gave up his fair pretensions.—Ariadne,
Your colour changes, and the gushing tear
Starts from your trembling eye.—

Ariadne.
The very thought—
Though sure it cannot be,—the very thought
Strikes to my heart like the cold hand of death.

Periander.
If still you doubt, go charge him with his guilt:
He will avow it all.

Ariadne.
And if he does,
Oh! what a change in one disastrous day!

Periander.
Your fate now calls for firm, decisive measures.
I will no longer urge th' ungrateful subject.
I leave you to collect your flutt'ring spirits.
I would not see your gen'rous heart deceiv'd.
His guilt should rouze your noblest indignation.
Now you may prove the greatness of your soul.

[Exit.
Ariadne
alone.
If this be so, if Theseus can be false,
Is there on earth a wretch so curs'd as I am!
A former flame—ha! think no more—that thought,
With ruin big, shoots horror to my brain.
A former flame still rages in his soul!
So said the king: Who is the fatal fair?
Where, in what region does she hide her charms?
Was it for her I sav'd him from destruction?
For her rebell'd against my father's pow'r?
To give to her all that my heart adores?
Can Theseus thus—no, yonder sun will sooner
Start from his orbit.—Yet, why shun my presence?
Why all this day that stern, averted look?
I'm torn, distracted, tortur'd with these doubts;
And where, oh! where to fix! I think him still
All truth, all honour, tenderness and love.
And yet Pirithous—it is all too plain;
All things conspire; all things inform against him.
He will avow it!—Let me seek him straight,
Unload my breast, and charge him with my wrongs;
With indignation harrow up his soul;
Tell all I've heard, all that distracts my brain;
Pour forth my rage, pour forth my fondness too,
And perhaps prove him innocent at last.