University of Virginia Library

ACT the FIFTH.

Scene, a wild Heath, with a Tower in View.
Enter Aletes, followed by an Officer.
Aletes.
Justice prevails, and Theseus is my prisoner;
Yon tow'r immures him close. Seek thou the harbour,
Unmoor the ship; let all things be prepar'd
To give the spreading canvass to the wind.
The day declines, and the moon's silver beam
Plays on the trembling wave. This night 'tis fix'd
Theseus with me shall seek the Cretan shore.

[Exit Officer.
Enter Ariadne.
Ariadne.
Where is your prisoner?

Aletes.
In yon tow'r secur'd.

Ariadne.
Your policy has fail'd; release him straight:
'Tis the king's order; you may read it, sir.

(gives him a paper.)
Aletes.
Your interest has prevail'd, and I obey.

(goes into the tower.)
Ariadne
alone.
Ye fond ideas, ye fierce warring passions,
With what a mingled sway you drive me on!
Grief, rage, and indignation rise by turns;
But love flows in, and resolution dies.
Ha! see he comes—Oh! how this flutt'ring tumult,
With hopes and fears alternate, shakes my frame.

Enter Theseus from the Tower.
Ariadne
(viewing him as he advances.)
Dissimulation fails him, and his looks
No longer hide the characters of guilt.

Theseus.
How shall I pour my thanks? a thousand sentiments
All press at once, and yet deny me utterance.
Words are too poor: expression strives in vain.

Ariadne.
You need no more dissemble. Periander
Has heard the purpose of your soul. Last night,
When sleep seal'd ev'ry eye, in darkness wrapt,
Thro' secret ways, clandestine as your thoughts,
You stole into his presence; there disclos'd
Your hidden flame, your alienated heart.

(turns from him.)
Theseus.
Spare your reproaches, princess; Oh! forbear,
Forbear in pity to afflict a mind
Too deeply wounded! that feels all its errors,
Feels all your virtues, and with keenest sense
Aches at its own reflections.

Ariadne.
Of the pardon
Which Periander to my pray'rs has granted,
You know not the extent. To-morrow's sun
Shall light you to your nuptials; you may then
Shew to the world this unapparent beauty,
And give to her the vows that once were mine.

Theseus.
Oh! Ariadne, spare this keen reproof.
Could you but know the pangs that struggle here—

Ariadne.
Theseus, you weep! you weep o'er my afflictions;
You feel my wrongs, yet barb'rous ev'n in pity,
You fix the shaft of anguish in my heart.

Theseus.
On me, on me the weight of ruin falls;
'Tis I am plung'd in woe; a man condemn'd,
To wander o'er the world. Alas, 'tis fate,
Fate drives me on. If you forget a wretch,
The prey of grief, the sport of fortune's malice;
And if a monarch, to reward your virtues,
Prepares th' imperial wreathe to deck your brow—

Ariadne.
Is that the recompence I wish'd to gain?
Too well you know this heart. Had Periander
A wider empire than e'er monarch rul'd,
And you were helpless, destitute of fortune,
I had been, heav'n can witness! happy with you.
In loving you, I sought yourself alone.

Theseus.
For all this waste of generous affection,
Calamity is all that Theseus brings.

Ariadne.
Come lead me hence to some far distant wild,
Where human footstep never prints a trace;
There bless'd with thee I could for ever dwell,
Thron'd in thy heart, the mistress of thy love.

Theseus.
Here happiness awaits you; here you're destin'd
The mild vicegerent of the gods on earth.
In that bright sphere while you serenely shine,
The pattern of all virtue, temp'ring justice
With mercy, and diffusing blessings round you,
With tears of joy mankind will own your sway.

Ariadne.
Thou vile ingrate!

Theseus.
If you will deign to hear me:
Though great my crimes—

Ariadne.
Thou traitor!—was it thus
You look'd and talk'd, when first I saw and lov'd?
Your doom was fix'd; the officers of vengeance
Remorseless led you forth; my trembling eye
Pursued your steps; tears gush'd; I could not speak.
I fled to your relief, and my undoing:
Then ev'ry god was witness to your vows.
The fond delusion charm'd me. I rebell'd
Against my father; I betray'd his honour;
And all for thee. I fled my native land.
Nor winds, nor waves, nor exile could debar me.
This the return!—have I deserv'd it of you?
Tell me my crime; and, oh! if possible,
Teach me to think 'tis justice that I suffer:
For ev'n in ruin I would not abhor thee.

Theseus.
You wrong me much: By yon bright stars I swear,
I never meant by base ingratitude
To fix affliction in that bosom-softness.
Thy name, thy merit, and thy wond'rous goodness,
While life informs this frame, shall ever live
Esteem'd and honour'd, treasur'd in my heart.

Ariadne.
Esteem'd and honour'd! 'twas your love you promis'd.
A monarch, saidst thou, woos me to his arms!
What truth, what fair return have I to give him?
Give me, barbarian! give me back my heart,
The heart you robb'd me off: Give back my vows,
My artless vows, my pure unpledg'd affections,
With equal warmth that I may meet his love;
And not like thee, with treach'rous bland allurements,
Court his embrace, and charm him to betray.

Theseus.
Then if you will, wreak your worst vengeance on me.
Ascend the throne; back to the Cretan shore
Convey me hence to glut your father's rage:
I there can die content. Or if your mercy
Permit me once again to visit Greece,
Oft I shall hear of Ariadne's name;
Well pleas'd at distance, in the humble vale
Of private life, or in the tented field,
To view the radiant glory that surrounds you,
And thank the gods for shedding blessings down
On thee and all thy race.

Ariadne.
Go, visit Greece;
Display to Athens all your brave exploits,
Your battles won, the nations you have conquer'd.
And let your banners, waving high in air,
Hold forth the bright inscription to men's eyes,
“Lo! this is he, who triumph'd o'er a woman.”
My death will blazon forth the fame of him,
Who freed the world from monsters of the desert,
Who slew the Minotaur, but could not quell
Ingratitude, that monster of the soul.

Theseus.
You need not, Ariadne, oh! you need not
Thus tear me piece-meal. My distracted heart
Feels in each nerve, and bleeds at ev'ry vein.

Ariadne.
Unbidden tears, why will you fool me thus?
These tears that fall, that thus gush out perforce,
Are not the tears of supplicating love.
They are the tears of burning indignation,
Of shame, and rage, and pride, and conscious virtue;
Virtue that feels, feels at the very heart
Each stab inhuman treachery has giv'n,
Yet sees that calm tranquillity in guilt.

Enter Phædra.
Phædra.
Once more restor'd to liberty, and life.

[to Theseus.
Theseus.
Oh! death were happiness to what I feel.

Ariadne.
See me no more; to-morrow spread your sails;
Take in your train the partner of your heart.
She shall not go: once more I'll see the king,
And dare not on thy life convey her hence.

Phædra.
What meddling fiend inflames you thus to madness?
Hear, Ariadne, hear.

Ariadne.
Go, sail for Athens, (to Theseus.)

Alone, heart-broken, comfortless; like me
Plung'd in despair; like me depriv'd of all
Your heart held dear.

Phædra.
Let me appease your wrath.

Ariadne.
I will descend to pray'rs and tears no more.
Farewell for ever; oh! ungrateful man!

[Exit.
Theseus, Phædra.
Theseus.
Distraction! madness! oh! she has destroy'd
My peace of mind for ever.

Phædra.
Theseus, no;
My lenient care shall mitigate your grief.

Theseus.
For thee, my Phædra, I bear all for thee.
Since liberty is mine, let me employ it
To serve our mutual bliss. The time admits
No dull delay. This moment I must leave thee.

Phædra.
Ah! whither do you go?

Theseus.
Observe me well.
That path, that winds along the barren heath,
Leads to the mountain's ridge: There down the steep
A soft declivity will guide your steps
To Neptune's temple, shelter'd in the grove.
There I expect you.

Phædra.
Wherefore? what intent?
Unfold the dark design; my fears alarm me.

Theseus.
No more; the sun descends, and sable night
Draws o'er the face of things her dusky veil.
With cautious step proceed; but ere you go,
Watch Ariadne: here beguile her stay.
If she pursues me, all is lost for ever.
Farewell, farewell, I trust my fate with thee.

[Exit.
Phædra
alone.
Oh! how my bosom pants with doubt and fear!
What may this mean? some dread event impends.
He will not, no, preserve him gracious pow'rs!
Let him not, prompted by despair, attempt
Beyond his strength, and rush on sure destruction.

Ariadne, Phædra.
Ariadne.
Where, Phædra, whither is the traitor fled?

Phædra.
Oh! you have been to blame: with haggard eyes
Upturn'd to heav'n, he paus'd, and heav'd a sigh,
As if his lab'ring heart would burst his frame,
And leave him here, a pale, a breathless corse.
At length with haste, with fury in his look,
But blessing still your name, he rush'd along,
And vanish'd from my sight.

Ariadne.
The barb'rous man!
Did he deny his falsehood? Did one tear
Speak his compunction? Did he once relent?
In guilt obdurate! did you mark his mien,
The pride, the scorn that darted from his eye?

Phædra.
What choice was left him, when with fierce disdain
You spurn'd him from you?

Ariadne.
Therefore did he shun me?
Ungen'rous man! he saw I lov'd him most,
Then when enrag'd I pour'd my curses on him:
My heartstrings ev'n then were twin'd about him.
Once more I'll see him: should he sail for Athens,
'Tis fix'd to follow him. He will not then
Dare to avow a treachery like this.
His glory is at stake: with one accord
All hearts declare for me. The sons of Greece,
For all my sorrows, all my sufferings past,
Wish to reward me in their hero's arms.

Phædra.
And does Pirithous join you? does he mean
To waft you o'er the deep?

Ariadne.
His ship already
From last night's storm refitted, courts the breeze,
And even now prepares to plough the deep.

Phædra.
Theseus, the while, in pining discontent,
Forlorn and wretched on the blasted heath,
Sighs to the winds, and drinks his falling tears.

Ariadne.
Oh! fly, pursue him, calm his troubled spirit.
Still, traitor as he is, he may relent.
For oh! too well I know his godlike nature;
Know the mild virtues, that adorn his mind,
And more than speak in each enchanting look.
Go, seek him Phædra: tell him all my woes,
And reconcile his heart to love and me.
But hark! some step this way—

Phædra.
Pirithous comes!

Ariadne.
Haste, fly, pursue him, find the barb'rous man.

Phædra.
I leave you now.

Ariadne.
Farewell.

Phædra.
Where shall we meet?

Ariadne.
In yonder palace.

Phædra.
There you may expect me.

[Exit.
Ariadne.
Oh! grant her pow'r to touch, to melt his heart.

Pirithous, Ariadne.
Pirithous.
I bring you tidings may revive your hopes.
Theseus may still be thine.

Ariadne.
May still be mine?

Pirithous.
Yes; Periander, should he still persist
To hold you here a captive, sees his danger.
Crete arms against him: Athens too will claim you,
And let destruction loose. To cope with both,
Not ev'n the soul of Periander dares.
He must release you: then you sail for Greece.
Theseus will there be yours: his solemn vows,
And the vast debt of gratitude he owes,
Join'd by the public voice, will bind him to you.

Ariadne.
But if constraint alone—Ah! can you think
That his relenting heart will feel remorse?

Pirithous.
The indignation of mankind will warn him.
Returning virtue then—

Ariadne.
If aught can waken
A spark of love in that obdurate breast;
A look, a sigh impassion'd from the heart,
Will heal my sorrows, and with tears of joy
Make me forgive him all. I burn once more
To wander with him o'er the roaring deep.
And has the king consented?

Pirithous
Ev'n now I left him
In close debate, and onward to this spot
Bending his eager step. With friendly counsels
Archon attends, and seconds all I wish.
Lo! where he comes this way. Retire awhile:
Yon grove will give you shelter: there remain.
A single glance from those persuasive eyes
May once again inflame his fierce desires,
And reason then will plead your cause in vain.

Ariadne.
May all your words sink melting to his soul.

[Exit.
Pirithous.
Now, gods, assist me: if I now succeed,
My fears subside, and danger is no more.

Periander, and Pirithous.
Periander.
Pirithous, hear: this hour ends all debate.
My resolution's fix'd: then urge no more
Your haughty claim: 'tis torture to my heart.

Pirithous.
A heart like thine will generously love.
You will not force the princess to your arms,
Nor light with Hymen's torch the flames of war.

Periander.
Ha! dost thou deem me of so fierce a spirit,
To tyrannize the fears of Ariadne?
No, her own lip, the musick of that voice,
To my delighted ear shall breathe the promise,
The soft avowal of her mutual flame.

Pirithous.
She doats on Theseus: the wide world has heard
The story of her love. And can you hope
To turn awry the current of affection
From him, who first awak'd her young desires,
Still fans the flame, and lords it o'er her soul?

Periander.
Let him depart: I have releas'd him to you.
Then Ariadne will resent her wrongs,
Incline her heart, and listen to my vows.
Bear your friend hence: my orders shall be issued.
For Ariadne trouble me no more.

[Exit.
Pirithous,
alone.
Proud monarch go! This night shall mar your hopes:
This very night, while sleep lulls all your guards,
She shall embark. When lawless pow'r prevails,
The noble end must justify the means.

Ariadne, Pirithous.
Ariadne.
Thou gen'rous man! have you regain'd my freedom?

Pirithous.
This very night we quit the hated shore.
Enquire no more: you must embark with me.
For Theseus, he will gladly join our flight.

Ariadne.
All things invite us: from the sky bursts forth
A stream of radiance, and the level main
Presents a wide expanse of quiv'ring light.
Where is my sister?

Pirithous.
She must here remain.

Ariadne.
No, it were perfidy, a breach of friendship.
She fled with me: our hearts were ever join'd
By the sweet ties of friendship and of love.

Pirithous.
Here she must stay; your happiness requires it.

Ariadne.
What is her crime? Ah! why should we desert her?

Pirithous.
Seek not to know too much.

Ariadne.
No, Phædra, no;
I cannot leave thee here.

Enter Archon.
Archon.
This very moment
A soldier from the harbour brings this letter.
To you it is address'd.

(gives it to Pirithous.)
Pirithous.
And comes from Theseus.

Ariadne.
From Theseus!—wherefore?—whence?—what new event?—

Pirithous
reads.
“My heart's too full to vent itself in words.
“I know my conduct will be blam'd by all.
“I will not varnish it by vain excuse.
“I seiz'd your ship: we have already pass'd
“The head-land of the harbour.
Oh! this consummates all.

Ariadne.
Why dost thou pause?
Proceed; go on; let me be full of horror.
(taking the letter.)
She reads.
“We have already pass'd
“The head-land of the harbour: sunk in grief,
“Distracted with her fears, in wild amaze,
“Phædra has join'd my flight.—
Is Phædra with him?

Archon.
They embark'd together.

Ariadne
reads.
“To Ariadne
“Be ev'ry duty paid, each tender care.
“Assuage her sorrows: Periander's love
“Will charm each sense, and teach her to forget;
“Perhaps in time, when ev'ry bliss attends her,
“To pardon Phædra, and the wretched Theseus.”
All just and righteous—

(she falls on the ground.)
Pirithous.
Ah! she faints! she faints:
Bring instant help; assist her, lend your aid.
(Enter attendant Virgins.)
Oh! wretched princess! would the gods allow you
To breathe your last, and never wake again
To this bad world, 'twere happiness indeed.
She stirs, she moves; the blood returns again,
But oh! to make her feel the weight of woe,
And see the desolation that surrounds her.

Ariadne.
Where have my senses wander'd? Why around me
Are you all fix'd, the statues of despair?
Oh! I remember—Open earth, and hide me:
In your cold caves you never yet receiv'd
A wretch betray'd, undone, and lost as I am.

Pirithous.
Afflicted mourner, raise thee from the earth.
Thy woes indeed are great.

Ariadne.
Could you expect it?
(as she rises.)
Phædra has join'd his flight; she too betrays me.
She was my other self; for ever dear;
Dear as the drops that circled in my veins,
But now, ah! now, to warm this heart no more.
Perhaps ev'n now she gazes on his charms,
Hangs on each accent, catches from those eyes
The sweet enchantment; knows I shed these tears;
Knows that I beat this breast, and rend this hair,
And tell my sorrows to these craggy cliffs,
And rave and shriek, in madness and despair.
Haste, fly, pursue them, launch into the main,
Arm all your ships, bring swords, bring liquid fire,
Fly, overtake them, whelm them in the deep.

[Exit.
Pirithous.
Attend her, virgins, with your tend'rest duty.

[Exeunt attendants.
Archon.
If this be thy contrivance—

Pirithous.
Charge me not
With a black deed that has undone my friend,
And to the latest time must brand his name.
I feel for him; I feel for Ariadne.
She now demands our sympathy and care.

[Exeunt.
The Back Scene opens; the Harbour and the Sea in view.
Ariadne, with attendants.
Ariadne.
Behold, look there, see where the vessel bounds.
Oh! horror, horror! how the rapid prow
Glides through the waves! will none pursue the traitor?

First Virgin.
Alas, my royal mistress, 'tis in vain.

Ariadne.
Turn, Theseus, turn; 'tis Ariadne calls.
Return barbarian! whither do you fly?
This way direct your course; stay, Phædra, stay.
See how they bound along the level main,
And cleave their way; and catch each gale that blows.
Inhuman treachery!

(leans on her attendants.)
First Virgin.
Her grief exhausts her strength, but soon again
Despair will rouze her with redoubled force.

Ariadne.
Heart-piercing sight! and see the traitor still
Pursues his course. Yon glitt'ring host of stars
Lend all their rays; the elements combine!
Ye winds, ye waves, you too are leagu'd against me;
You join with guilt, accomplices in fraud!
All false as Theseus; all as Phædra false;
Officious all to end this wretch'd being.
Your victory will soon be gained: That pang,
Oh! this cold tremor—'tis the hand of death,
I hope it is; my grave is all I ask.

(sits down on the point of a rock.)
Enter Periander, Pirithous, Archon.
Periander.
Oh! dire event!

Pirithous.
See where the beauteous mourner
Grows to the rock, and thinks herself to stone.

Periander.
Rise, princess, rise, and let us bear you hence
To your own palace, where the storm of grief
Will soon subside, and peace, and love, and joy
Revisit your sad heart.

(they lead her forward.)
Ariadne.
No, never, never;
My easy heart will be deceiv'd no more.

Periander.
For thee love still has new delights in store,
Whole years of bliss.—

Ariadne.
Why do you smile upon me?
I never serv'd you; never sav'd your life;
Made you no promise: why should you deceive me?

Periander.
May sweet oblivion of her past afflictions
Steal gently o'er her soul. Restore her, heav'n!

Ariadne.
Have you a sister? She will break your heart.

Periander.
I come to calm your griefs, and crown your days
With love sincere, and everlasting truth.

Ariadne.
All truth is fled; long since she fled the earth,
Tir'd of her pilgrimage. Why, holy pow'rs!
Why leave poor mortals crawling here below,
Where there's no confidence, no trust, no faith!
All nature moves by your eternal law;
Truth is the law of man, and yet she's fled.
I see her there, there near the throne of Jove,
Her garment white as her own candid mind;
She looks with pity on this vale of error,
And drops a tear: while falsehood in disguise,
With specious seeming, walks her deadly round,
And mask'd in friendship, where she smiles, destroys.

Periander.
Let me conduct you: trust your friends.

Ariadne.
You look
As if I might believe you: so did Theseus.
But where, where is he now?—“To Ariadne
“Be ev'ry duty paid, each tender care!”
Oh! artful man!—Look there! I see him still;
I see the ship; it lessens to my view,
It lessens still! and now, just now it fades!
It fades away, it melts into the clouds!
Scarce, scarce perceiv'd! tis gone, tis lost,
For ever, ever lost! is that the last,
The last sad glimpse? and must I linger here?
Die, Ariadne, die, and end your woes.

(stabs herself.)
Periander.
Oh! fatal rashness! quick, bring ev'ry help.

Pirithous.
Deep in her veins the poniard drinks her blood.

Ariadne.
'Twas Theseus' gift: his best, his kindest present;
As such I sheath'd it in my very heart.

Periander.
Her flutt'ring soul is on the wing to leave her.

Ariadne.
Elysium is before me; let not Theseus
Pursue me thither; in those realms of bliss
Let my departed spirit know some rest.
Oh! let me feel ingratitude no more.
Keep Theseus here in this abode of guilt;
This world is his; let him remain with Phædra;
Let him be happy; no, the fates forbid it:
They will deceive each other.

Periander.
Ah! that wound
Pours fast the stream of life.

Ariadne.
It gives no pain.
It is the stab fell perfidy has given,
That rankles here. Oh! raise me, raise me up.
No, let me see the light of heav'n no more.
Pirithous, you behold your friend's exploit!
I thank you Periander; you have been
Kind, good, and tender. May some worthier bride,
Adorn'd with all that virtue adds to beauty,
Endear the joys of life.—Alas, I die.
No mother here with pious hand to close
My faded eyes; no father o'er my urn
To drop a tear, and soothe my pensive shade.
No; I deserve it; I betray'd them both.
The barb'rous man!—He stabb'd me to the heart.
And yet ev'n then I knew but half my wrongs.
And you too Phædra! Oh!

(dies.)
Periander.
She's gone, and with her what a noble mind,
What gen'rous virtues are there laid in ruin!

Pirithous.
Thou injur'd innocence! oppress'd with wrongs,
And sore-beset, there rests her languish'd head.
Oh! when the gods bestow on mortal man
That bloom of beauty, those exalted charms,
By virtue dignified, they give the best,
The noblest gift their bounty has in store:
A gift to be esteem'd, ador'd by all;
To be protected by the soldier's valour,
Not thus betray'd, abandon'd to despair,
And the keen pangs of ill requited love.