University of Virginia Library

ACT the FOURTH.

Ariadne.
Where, Ariadne, where are now the hours
That wing'd with rapture chas'd each other's flight,
In one gay round of joy? Where now the hopes,
That promis'd years of unextinguish'd love?
'Tis past; the dream is fled; the sun grows dim;
Fair day-light turns to darkness; all within me
Is desolation, horror, and despair.
And are his vows, breath'd in the face of heav'n,
Are all his oaths at once dispers'd in air?
Those eyes, whose glance sent forth the melting soul,
Were they too false? The tears, with which he oft
Bedew'd his bosom, were they taught to feign?
He shuns me still: where does he lurk conceal'd?
In all our haunts, in each frequented grove,
(Ah! groves too conscious of the traitor's vows!)
In vain I've sought him. Does this hated rival,
Has she seduc'd him to her am'rous parley?
Gods! does she see him smile, and hear that voice?
And does he sigh, and languish at her feet,
Enamour'd gaze, and twine those arms around her?
Hold, traitor, hold; the gods forbid your love;
Those looks, those smiles are mine: deluded maid!
Mine are those vows, that fond embrace is mine.
Horror! distraction; still 'tis but surmise
That with these shadowings makes me tremble thus.
I still may wrong him:—Periander's fraud—
'Tis he abuses my too credulous ear.
The tale may be suborn'd:—I'll not believe it.
Lost Ariadne! you believe too much.
Where, where is Phædra? her unwearied friendship
May still avert my ruin: she may find
The barb'rous man, and melt his heart to pity.
And yet she comes not: ha!—Pirithous here!
He knows the worst: he can pronounce my doom.

Pirithous, Ariadne.
Pirithous.
Forgive me, princess, with officious zeal
If I once more intrude. The time no longer
Admits of wav'ring, hesitating doubt.
The king, enfetter'd in the chains of love,
Rejects the claims of Greece. If hence you part,
You must, with Theseus, steer your course for Crete.
His resolution's fix'd

Ariadne.
Does Theseus know
Th' impending danger? have you seen your friend?

Pirithous.
His great heart labours with a war of passions
Too big for utt'rance. In the soldier's eye
The silent tear stood trembling. Strong emotions
Convuls'd his frame. He knows your ev'ry virtue,
And rails in grief, in bitterness of soul,
At his hard fate, and each malignant planet,
That leave him empty praise, and fruitless thanks,
The only sad return he now can make.

Ariadne.
Thanks! unavailing thanks! you need not come
To add to misery this sharpest pang.
Love in this breast is not a vulgar flame,
The mere compliance of a will resign'd;
'Tis gen'rous ecstacy, 'tis boundless ardour.
A heart, that feels like mine, will not be paid
With cold acknowledgments, and fruitless thanks.
Mere gratitude is perfidy in love.

Pirithous.
Your bright perfections were his fav'rite theme.
He sees your days, that shone serenely bright,
Discolour'd now with sorrows not your own.
He sees you following, with unwearied steps,
One on whom fortune has not yet exhausted
Her stores of malice: whom the gods abandon—

Ariadne.
Whom justice, truth, and honour all abandon!

Pirithous.
It grieves him, Ariadne, much it grieves him
To see thee overwhelm'd with his misfortunes:
Condemn'd with him to drain the bitter cup
Of endless woe; and since propitious fortune
With better omens courts you here at Naxos,
'Tis now his wish, that you renounce for ever
A man accurst, sad outcast from his country,
The fatal cause of all your sorrows past.

Ariadne.
The fatal cause of all my woes to come!

Pirithous.
I do not mean to justify his guilt.
Might I advise you, you may still be happy.
A monarch lays his sceptre at your feet.
Your father Minos will approve your choice;
All Naxos will consent; a willing people
With fond acclaim will hail you as their queen,
And Theseus never can betray you more.

Ariadne.
And dost thou think, say does the traitor think
Thus to ensnare me with insidious counsels?
Last night admitted to a private audience,
To Periander he confess'd his guilt.
Another passion rages in his heart.
You know it all: unfold your lurking thoughts,
Reveal the truth; give me the tale of horror,
Own the black treason, and consummate all.

Pirithous.
Would I could hide the failings of my friend.

(aside)
Ariadne.
Those broken accents but distract me more.
Let ruin come: I am prepar'd to meet it.
Oh! speak, pronounce my doom: in me you see
A wretched princess, a deluded maid,
Lost to her friends, her country, and her father.
In pity tell me all: with gen'rous frankness
Deal with the wretched: let me know the worst.

Pirithous.
Far be deceit from me: of just resentment
I would light up the flame: my friend is plung'd,
Beyond all depth, in treachery and guilt.
Another love shoots poison to his soul.
At length he owns it. He avows his passion.

Ariadne.
Avows his passion!

Pirithous.
'Tis his fatal crime.

Ariadne.
You hear it, gods! I ask no patience of you;
Lend me no fortitude, no strength to bear
This horrible deception.—If your justice
From your bright mansions views this scene of guilt,
Why sleeps the thunder?—Send me instant madness,
To raze at once all traces from my brain,
All recollection of a world like this,
All busy memory of ungrateful man.

Pirithous.
Assert yourself; revenge your injur'd rights,
And tow'r above the false, the base deserter,
Who breaks all vows, and triumphs in his guilt.

Ariadne.
Can fraud like this engender in the heart?
It cannot be; no, the earth does not groan
With such a monster! you traduce him, Sir.
Who form'd the black design? Who forg'd the tale?
'Tis Periander's art: 'twas he suborn'd you.

Pirithous.
If you will hear me—

Ariadne.
Trouble me no more:
Theseus shall hear how his friend blasts his fame,
And comes from Athens, with his high commission,
To tempt my faith, and work a woman's ruin.

[Exit.
Pirithous
alone.
Too gen'rous princess! my heart inward bleeds
To see the cruel destiny that waits thee.
Ruin, inevitable ruin falls
On her, on Theseus, and his blasted fame.
And yet if Phædra—would some gracious pow'r
Inspire my voice, and give the energy
To wake, to melt, to penetrate the heart—
What if I seek her?—ha!—

Phædra, Pirithous.
Phædra.
Methought the sound
Of Ariadne's voice—

Pirithous.
'Tis as I wish'd:
Her timely presence—

(aside.)
Phædra.
Went my sister hence?

Pirithous.
Yes, hence she went, wild as the tempest's rage,
As if a conflagration of the soul
To madness fir'd her brain. But oh! I fear,
She went to brood in secret o'er her wrongs;
To think, and to be deeper plung'd in woe.

Phædra.
You chill my heart with fear: you have not told her
For whom in secret Theseus breathes his vows;
For whom he cherishes the hidden flame.

Pirithous.
There wants but that, that circumstance of horror,
To desolate her soul with instant madness.

Phædra.
Yet why still obstinate, why thus disdain
A monarch's vows? a mind like hers, elate
With native dignity, and fierce with pride,
May view with scorn the lover who betrays her,
And on th' imperial throne revenge her wrongs.

Pirithous.
Revenge is the delight of vulgar souls,
Unfit to rule the breast of Ariadne.

Phædra.
Your words, your looks alarm me: from your eye
Why shoots that fiery glance? what must we do?

Pirithous.
What must we do? the honest heart will tell thee.
'Tis in your pow'r: renounce your guilty loves;
Do justice to a sister; scorn by fraud,
By treach'rous arts to undermine her peace;
Restore the lover whom you ravish'd from her,
A lover all her own, by ev'ry tie,
By solemn vows her own, nor join in guilt
To wrest him from her, for the selfish pride,
The little triumph o'er a sister's charms.

Phædra.
To Ariadne turn: give her your counsel.
She still, if timely wise, may save herself,
For joy and rapture: she may live and reign.
If I lose Theseus, I can only die.

Pirithous.
Better to die, than live in vile dishonour.
You rush on sure destruction: Awful conscience,
That sits in judgment in each human heart,
And from that dread tribunal speaks within us:
Conscience will tell you, you have broke all faith,
Betray'd all confidence, destroy'd the bonds
Of sacred friendship, and with shame and infamy
Ruin'd a sister, who would die to serve you.

Phædra.
Inhuman that thou art! why wound me thus
With stern reproach? why arm against my peace,
With scorpion whips, these furies of the soul?

Pirithous.
For this wilt thou invade a sister's rights?
For this betray her? to endure for ever
The self-accusing witness in the heart!
Remorse will be your portion: shame and anguish
Will haunt your nights, and render all your days
Unblest and comfortless.

Phædra.
It is too much,
Too much to bear this agony of mind.

Pirithous.
'Tis virtue speaks; it warns you: hear it's voice,
And ere too deeply you are plung'd in guilt,
Return with honour, and regain the shore.

Phædra.
No more; it is too much: I cannot bear it.

Pirithous.
Greece honours Ariadne: think when Theseus
Returns with glory stain'd, with foul dishonour,
Think of the black reverse. Will men receive
With songs of triumph, and with shouts of joy,
Him, and his fugitive?—I see you're mov'd:
Those tears are symptoms of returning virtue.

Phædra.
You've turn'd my eyes with horror on myself.
Oh! thou hast conquer'd: Ariadne, take,
Take back your lover; I resign him to you.
No, Phædra will not live the slave of vice;
I will not bear this torture of the mind,
Goaded by guilt, pale, trembling at itself.

Pirithous.
There spoke the gen'rous soul: to those emotions
May the gods give the energy of virtue.

Phædra.
Go, say to Theseus, for his love I thank him;
Bid him renounce, forget me—Can he do it?
Bid him preserve his honour, and his life.
You need not counsel him—he will not fall
A willing victim for a wretch like me.
Yet, if his heart consents, let him forget
His vows, his plighted faith; and as he once
With unfelt ardour could delude my sister,
Bid him once more dissemble, and betray.

Pirithous.
Oh! blest event! all danger will retreat.
I leave you now, while nature stirs within you,
I leave you to th' emotions of your heart.

[Exit.
Phædra
alone.
Oh! what a depth of sorrow and remorse,
Of shame and infamy have I escap'd!
Just gods! to you I bend: your warning voice
Has taught me to renounce all guilty joys,
And dwell, fair virtue! dwell with peace and thee.

Theseus, and Phædra.
Theseus.
Phædra, what mean those tears? upon the wing
Of strong impatience I have sought your presence.
What new alarm—

Phædra.
My soul is full of horror.
Renounce my love; forget me; think no more
Of rashly plighted vows.

Theseus.
Renounce thee, Phædra?

Phædra.
Fly my disastrous love: disgrace and ruin
Are all the portion Phædra has to give.

Theseus.
Is that my Phædra's voice? Can she talk thus?
The tyrant fair, who first inspir'd my heart
With love unfelt before? I struggled long
To stifle in my breast the hidden flame;
I fled your presence; wheresoe'er I fled
Your image follow'd, and I still lov'd on.
In vain I struggled: your discerning eye
What could escape? you fann'd the rising flame,
And soon my flutt'ring heart was wholly thine.

Phædra.
Call not to memory the fond delight.
My guilt stands forth to view; I own it all.

Theseus.
And were the graces of each winning smile
Meant only to deceive me? Were those eyes
Instructed how to roll the bidden glance,
To fool me with a mockery of hope,
Then spurn me from your arms a wretch despis'd?

Phædra.
I must not, will not hear; the gods forbid it.
I see my sister pale, deform'd with murder,
And hear the curses of mankind condemn me.
Your friend has told me all.

Theseus.
Pirithous?

Phædra.
He.

Theseus.
Is he too join'd? is he too leagu'd against me?

Phædra.
It was his friendship spoke.

Theseus.
Then send me hence
A victim to appease your father's rage,
To be a spectacle for public view,
And meet at length an ignominious death.

Phædra.
Heart-breaking sounds!

(aside.)
Theseus.
Or if, ungen'rous fair,
If you will have it so, command me hence
Once more to sigh at Ariadne's feet,
And to that beauty—Phædra have a care:
That lovely form the wond'ring eyes of men
Adore, and even envy must admire.
Beauty like her's may twine about my heart,
And gain, though much I've struggled to resist her,
And gain at length my fond consent to wed her.

Phædra.
Consent to wed her! death is in the thought!
Perfidious traitor! practis'd in deceit!
And can another, after all your oaths,
Oh! light inconstant man! ah! can a rival
Blot out all fond remembrance of your love,
And twine her fatal charms about your heart?
Consent to wed her! go,—abandon Phædra;
Seek Ariadne; to her matchless beauty
Breathe all your vows—those you can well dissemble;
Go, melt in tears—those too you well can feign;
Revel in joys your heart will never taste,
And see me laid a victim at your feet?

Theseus.
Restrain this frantic rage, does this become
The tender moment, when the faithful Theseus
With all a lover's ardour comes to greet thee?

Phædra.
The thought of losing thee turns wild my brain.
Oh! love resumes his empire o'er my soul,
And all inferior motives yield at once.
These tears can witness—

Theseus.
'Tis no time for tears.
Go seek your sister: your soft pray'rs and tears
May still prevail. If not, to-morrow's dawn,
Tell her, shall end her doubts: ere that I've plann'd
Measures, that may make sure our mutual bliss.
To Periander I must now repair.
His messengers have sought me. Oh! remember
My life, my hope of bliss, must spring from thee.

[Exit.
Phædra
alone.
And on his fate my happiness is grafted.
Ha! Ariadne comes!—Oh! love, what virtues
You force me to betray!—That haggard mien,
Those looks proclaim the tumult of her soul.

Ariadne, Phædra.
Ariadne.
In vain I struggle to deceive myself.
I am betray'd, abandon'd, lost for ever.

[not perceiving Phædra.
Phædra.
How her fierce rage shoots lightning from her eyes.

(aside.)
Ariadne.
Oh! while his accents charm'd my list'ning ear,
While each fond look ensnar'd my captive heart,
Ev'n then another lur'd the wand'rer from me;
Another's beauty taught those eyes to languish;
Another's beauty tun'd his voice to love.

Phædra.
Appease her anger, gods, and grant her patience.

(aside.)
Ariadne.
And must I live to see her haughty triumph?
To bear her scorn? to bear th' insulting pity
Of Cretan dames! all pleas'd with my undoing?
To die at length in misery of heart,
And leave to after-times a theme of woe,
A tragic story for the bards of Greece?

Phædra.
How my heart shrinks! I dread the interview.

(aside.)
Ariadne.
Let lightning blast me first; let whirlwinds seize me,
To atoms dash me on the craggy cliff,
Or blow me hence upon the warring winds
To climes unknown, beyond the verge of nature,
To the remotest planet in the void;
That never, never can approach this world;
But rolling onward, farther, farther still
Holds in the wilds of space it's fated round;
Where I may rave; and to the list'ning waste
Pour forth my sorrows; think till reason leaves me;
And tell to other stars, and other suns
A tale to hold them in their course suspended,
And turn them pale with horror at the sound.
There let me dwell; grow savage with my wrongs,
And never hear from this vile globe again.

Phædra.
Yet be of comfort.

Ariadne.
There's no comfort for me.
Whence is that voice? Oh! Phædra, Oh! my sister,
Assist me, help me; I am sick at heart.

Phædra.
Recall your reason, summon all your strength,
Nor thus afflict yourself.

Ariadne.
Have I not cause?
The barbarous man! he flies me; he abjures me;
Breaks all the fervent vows, which each day's sun,
Which ev'ry conscious planet of the night,
Which ev'ry god bent down from heav'n to hear.

Phædra.
And yet if calmly you will hear a sister—

Ariadne.
Could you suspect that perfidy like this
Can lie close ambush'd in the heart of man?

Phædra.
But still, if Theseus harass'd out with woes,
Pursued by fate, and bending to misfortune—

Ariadne.
I gave up all for him.

Phædra.
Were you but calm—

Ariadne.
Can the wretch tortur'd on the rack be calm?
Ingratitude! thou source of evil deeds!
Foe to the world's repose! thou canst with fair,
With specious words, with treacherous disguise,
Deceive the friend, and thrive upon his smiles;
By servile arts enrich thee with his spoils,
Till pamper'd to the full, with favours bloated,
Thy hour is come to shew thy native hue,
And carry pain, and anguish to the breast,
That warm'd and cherish'd thee. Detested fiend!
By thee truth fades ev'n from the noblest mind;
Of fair, and good, and just no trace remains;
Honour expires, the gen'rous purpose dies,
And ev'ry virtue withers in the soul.

Phædra.
Yet be advis'd, and you may still be happy.
A youthful monarch woos you to his throne.
The gods have sent relief—

Ariadne.
Oh! Phædra, oh! my sister,
As yet a stranger to man's wily arts,
You keep the even tenour of your mind:
You know not what it is to love like me.

Phædra.
Oh! conscious, conscious guilt.

(aside.)
Ariadne.
I see you pity me.
It grieves me to afflict your tender nature.
In all his hours of tenderness and love,
Oh! charming hours, that must return no more!
I never deem'd it was illusion all,
Never suspected a more happy rival,
Saw not her image lurking in his heart.
Tell me her name: Who is she? Let me see
The fatal fair, that poisons all my joys.
Your own heart, Phædra, must condemn the deed.

Phædra.
Her words too deeply pierce; they rend my soul.

(aside.)
Ariadne.
You can detect the traitress; guide me to her.
If on this isle—ha!—why that sudden pause?
That downcast eye? why does your colour change?
Oh! now I see you know her: in your looks
I read it all.

Phædra.
Confusion, shame, distraction!
(aside.)
If this wild fury, that deforms your reason—

Ariadne.
Phædra, beware: if you deceive your sister,
If you conceal this rival, 'twere a deed
To shock all nature; to make heav'n and earth,
And men and gods abhor thee.

Phædra.
Since unjustly
You thus suspect me—have I giv'n you cause?

Ariadne.
Disclose it all, and league not with my foes.

Phædra.
I see my fault: with too officious care
I came to heal your sorrows.—I forbear:
I've been to blame; but now, farewell, farewell.

Ariadne.
Stay, Phædra, stay; you shall not leave me thus.
In all afflictions you are still my comfort.

Phædra.
Then check this fury; it is phrenzy all.
Where is the pride becoming Minos' daughter?
Disdain the traitor; drive him from your thoughts.
Turn where the gods invite you: Periander
Wishes to lay his sceptre at your feet.
Your sway shall bless the land, and humbled Theseus
Will be reduc'd to sue to you for mercy.
The pow'r will then be yours, the envied pow'r
Of Godlike clemency: 'twill then be yours
To shew thee worthy of imperial sway,
To shelter still the man you once could love;
Know him insensible to worth like thine,
To honour lost, and yet forgive him all.

Ariadne.
Must I transfer th' affections of my soul,
To justify his perfidy? must I
Bargain away my heart, to save a traitor?
For the fair Greek to save him? Mighty gods!
He shall not wed her: give her to my rage.
I'll follow to the altar; there my vengeance—
How my heart shrinks—no, strike—my blood recoils—
Assist me, Phædra, give the means of death.
She shall not live to revel in his arms.
Then Theseus shall behold her faded form,
And ev'ry drop the traitor then lets fall
Shall pay me for the tears, the galling tears,
His perfidy has cost me: then he'll know
The agony of soul, the mortal pang,
When we are robb'd of all the heart adores.

Phædra.
Ha! will you sister stain your hand with blood?

Ariadne.
Then Theseus too—He clings about my heart;—
No, let him sail for Crete; my father's justice
Will claim atonement for a daughter's wrongs,
Doom him a sacrifice for broken vows,
A dreadful warning to ungrateful man.

Enter Pirithous.
Pirithous.
Your woes encrease each hour. A guard ev'n now
Leads Theseus forth, by Periander's order,
To yonder tow'r, that overhangs the bay.
From thence, ere morn, he must depart for Crete.

Phædra.
Ah! there to perish—Ariadne, haste,
Seek Periander, fly, prevent the stroke.

Ariadne.
He can no more deceive me.

Phædra.
Will you, then,
Ah! will you, cruel, see him doom'd to die?
I'll seek the king, and bathe his feet with tears,
And rave, and shriek, till he release him to me.

[Exit.
Pirithous.
If he must fall, 'tis you have fix'd his doom.
You still can save him. At one glance from you
The king will feel his resolution melt.

Ariadne.
I sav'd him once, and he requites me for it.
No more of tenderness. The gen'rous deed
But gives to fell ingratitude the pow'r
With scorpion stings to pierce you to the heart.

Pirithous.
Yet, Ariadne, think—

Ariadne.
No more, but leave me.

[Exit Pirithous.
Ariadne
alone.
Yes, yet let the traitor die:—If he must die,
In some dark cave I can deplore his fate,
Hid from the world, forgetting all but him,
Till the kind hand of death shall lay me stretch'd,
In cold oblivion on the flinty ground,
Pale, wan, and senseless as the marble form
That lies in sorrow on some virgin's tomb.
He will not see my tears: the barb'rous man
Will be no more ungrateful.—Mighty gods!
I lov'd, I am betray'd, yet love him still.
Quick let me hence:—one gen'rous effort more
May still—fond wishes how you rush upon me!
Should he relent,—Oh! should returning love
Once more—vain hope! yet the delusion charms me:
One gen'rous effort more may make him mine.