University of Virginia Library

ACT the SECOND.

Scene, a magnificent Apartment in a Palace.
Enter Periander, with Attendants.
Let all with duty, with observance meet
Wait on the princess: let the virgin train
With songs of rapture, and melodious airs
Try their best art; wake all the magic pow'r
Of harmony, to soothe that tender breast,
And with soft numbers lull each sense of pain.
I have beheld her, gaz'd on ev'ry charm,
And Ariadne triumphs in my heart.

Enter Archon.
A messenger from Athens waits your pleasure.

Periander.
From Athens say'st thou?

Archon.
In the northern bay
His ship is moor'd. Theseus attends the stranger,
And both now crave an audience.

Periander.
In apt time
Their messenger arrives: when war impends,
Tidings from Athens are right welcome to me:
They breathe new vigour. Let the Greek approach.

Enter Theseus, and Pirithous.
Theseus.
Forgive the transports of a heart that swells
Above all bounds, when I behold my friend,
My gallant, gen'rous friend, the brave Pirithous!
It glads my soul, thus to present before you
A chief renown'd in arms, the best of men,
My other self, the partner of my toils,
And my best guide to glory.

Periander.
To the virtues
Of the brave chief my ear is not a stranger.
You come from Athens?

Pirithous.
Scarce two days have pass'd
Since thence I parted. Thro' the realms of Greece
Fame spread at large th' adventures of my friend,
With Ariadne's glory, and the deed,
The gen'rous deed that snatch'd him from destruction.
How she convey'd him to this happy shore,
How he has been receiv'd, and shelter'd here,
The men of Athens, sensibly alive
To each fine motive, each exalted purpose,
Have heard with gratitude. My feeble voice
Would but degrade the sentiments that burn
In ev'ry breast, with joy and rapture fir'd.
Warm with the best sensations of the heart,
They pour their thanks, the tribute of their praise.

Periander.
The praise that's offer'd by the sons of Greece,
By that heroic, that enlighten'd race,
Is the best meed fair virtue can receive.

Pirithous.
That fair reward is yours: your worth demands it.
To my brave friend Athens next points her care.
What crime is his? Did he imbrue his hands
In young Androgeus' blood? Why should he fall
To expiate the death of Minos' son?
Against the innocent who makes reprisals,
And on the blameless head lets fall the sword,
Offers up victims to his fell revenge.
'Tis murder, and not justice.

Periander.
Righteous heav'n
In th' hour of danger has watch'd o'er your friend,
And he has triumph'd o'er their barb'rous rites,
Their savage law, the stain of Minos' reign.

Pirithous.
Athens, exulting, pants for his return.
In crowds her eager citizens go forth,
And on the beach, and on the wave-worn cliff,
O'er all the main rowl their desiring eyes,
And ask of ev'ry ship that ploughs the deep,
News of their hero. A whole people's voice
Chose me their delegate, their faithful officer,
To seek my friend, and bear him hence with speed
Back to his native land.

Periander.
The laws of Naxos
To all are equal. None are here constrain'd,
None forc'd by violence, or lawless pow'r,
To quit this safe, this hospitable shore.
Theseus will use the rights of free-born men.
'Tis his to give the answer.

Theseus.
For this goodness
My heart o'erflows with more than words can speak.

Pirithous.
All Greece will thank you.—Ariadne too—

Periander.
How? Ariadne say'st thou?—

Pirithous.
With delight,
With admiration, with unbounded transport,
Athens has heard her gen'rous exploits;
Has heard, when Theseus on the Cretan shore
Arriv'd to glut their vengeance, how the tear
Bedew'd her cheek. She pitied his misfortunes,
And whom she snatch'd from death, she means to bless
With that rare beauty, and connubial love.

Periander.
Ha! do'st thou come to sink me to a slave?
'Tis pride, 'tis arrogance makes this demand.
Must I obey the proud, imperious mandate?
Bear Ariadne with you!—By yon heav'n,
No pow'r on earth shall force her from the isle.
If thou presum'st again—

Pirithous.
I never have,
I never can presume—

Periander.
'Tis insolence!
Is this the praise? Are these the thanks you bring?
Urge that request no more.—

Pirithous.
If to my words
You'll deign to lend a favourable ear—

Periander.
Say on what law does Athens found a right
To claim an alien princess?

Pirithous.
When her choice,
Her gen'rous choice, the impulse of the heart
Inclines her will, you will not fetter freedom?

Periander.
Her father claims her: dost thou vainly hope,
That Greece can silence his paternal rights?
Is that your errand? Who commission'd thee?
Is Theseus your adviser? and does he
Second this proud attempt?

Theseus.
No, Theseus never
Will plan, or counsel what may stain your honour.

Pirithous.
Nor will he e'er forget,—I know him well—
I know his gratitude, his gen'rous warmth,
His constancy and truth—He'll ne'er forget
His vows of faithful love. The debt he owes
To Ariadne never can be paid.
Athens approves their union: tuneful bards
Prepare the tribute of immortal verse,
And white-rob'd virgins ev'n now are ready,
Where e'er she treads, to scatter at her feet
The blooming spring, and at the sacred altar
To hymn the bridal song.

Theseus.
Unthinking man!
This blind mistaken zeal will ruin all.

(aside.)
Periander.
No more; I'll hear no more; here break we off.
Proud Greek forbear, nor wound again my ear
With terms of vile disgrace. Another word
Of yielding Ariadne, and by Heav'n
The claims of Minos—His ambassador
Is here at hand; once more I'll give him audience.
And if again this outrage to my crown,—
If Theseus is found tamp'ring in your plot,—
If you (to Theseus)
presume by subtlety and fraud
To mock my hopes, and after last night's conference,
Renounce your honour, my resentment rous'd
May do a deed to whelm you all in ruin.
Then, let your friend, when next he dares approach us,
Learn to respect a monarch, who disdains
A proud demand from the vain states of Greece.

[Exit.
Theseus, Pirithous.
Pirithous.
The states of Greece, proud monarch! be assur'd,
Will vindicate their rights. Ha!—why that look
Of wild dismay? that countenance of sorrow?
Explain; what means my friend?

Theseus.
Alas! you know not,
You little know the horror and despair
In which the hand of fate has plung'd my soul.

Pirithous.
And can despair oppress thee? can thy heart
Know that pale inmate? By our dangers past,
By all our wars, spite of this braggart king,
The beauteous Ariadne shall be thine.

Theseus.
No more; no more of that:—I cannot speak—

Pirithous.
Those falt'ring accents, and those lab'ring sighs
Import some strange alarm.

Theseus.
Oh! lead me hence,
To meet the fiercest monsters of the desert,
Rather than bear this conflict of the mind.

Pirithous.
Unfold this mystery:—Those downcast eyes—

Theseus.
You have awaken'd Periander's fury.
Thy words have led me to a precipice,
And I stand trembling on the giddy brink.

Pirithous.
From thence I'll lead thee to the peaceful vale,
To life and happiness.—And can you thus,
When all your country's wishes bless your name,
When Athens to promote your happiness—

Theseus.
They may mis-judge my happiness:—Alas!
I thank them: little do they know of Theseus.

Pirithous.
They know your virtues, your heroic ardour,
Your patriot toil in the great cause of Greece:
They know that honour in your breast has fix'd
His sacred shrine: They know the gen'rous flame
That love has wak'd in Ariadne's breast,
And how, in gratitude, the bright idea
Must fire a soul like thine.

Theseus.
Too deep, too deep
Each accent pierces here.

(aside)
Pirithous.
Those faithful arms
Shall soon receive her.

Theseus.
You should not have claim'd her.

Pirithous.
Not claim that excellence! that rarest beauty—

Theseus.
By that mistaken claim you've rais'd a storm
That soon may burst in ruin on my head.
You've fir'd to madness Periander's soul,
And wounded me, here, in the tend'rest nerve,
That twines about the heart. For Ariadne
Thy suit is vain, 'tis fruitless: urge no more.
Let me embark for Greece; gain my dismission;
But for the princess, name her not: her liberty
The heart of Periander ne'er will grant:
No words, that art e'er form'd, will wring it from him.

Pirithous.
Not grant her freedom! not release her hence!
Should he refuse, all Greece will rise in arms:
One common cause will form the gen'rous league.
Soon Periander shall behold the ocean
White with the foam of twenty-thousand ships;
The Grecian phalanx posted on his hills,
And his defenceless island wrapt in flames.

Theseus.
Let Greece forget me, nor in such a cause
Unchain the fury of wide-wasting war.
Oh! not for me such slaughter.

Pirithous.
Think'st thou Greece
Will see thee torn from Ariadne's arms?
From her, who sacrific'd her all for thee?
From her, whose courage has brav'd ev'ry danger;
Fled from her country, from her father's court,
To save her hero's life? From her, whose beauty
Already is the praise of wond'ring Greece,
Surpassing all that lavish fancy forms.
I know the princess; the revolving year
Has not yet clos'd its round, since I beheld her
The pride, the glory of the Cretan dames.
That harmony of shape, that winning grace;
And when she moves, that dignity of mien!
Those eyes, whose quick and inexpressive glance
Brightens each feature, while it speaks the soul.

Theseus.
Thou need'st not, oh! my friend, thou need'st not point
Her beauties to my heart.—Each charm is her's,
Softness and dignity in union sweet,
And each exalted virtue. Nature form'd her
The hero's wonder, and the poet's theme.

Pirithous.
You shall not lose her, by yon Heav'n you shall not.
I'll seek the king; apprise him of his danger;
Unmoor my ship, remeasure back the deep,
And bring the fleets of Athens to his harbour.

Theseus.
It must not be; no, Periander's soul
Is firm, heroic, unsubdu'd by danger.
His sudden rage, his irritated pride
Will seal my doom: The deputies from Crete
Are here to claim their victim: Periander sees
Each charm, each grace of Ariadne's form,
And sends his rival hence to instant death.

Pirithous.
I can prevent him; can elude his malice.
This very night, when all is wrapt in darkness,
Embark with me. The partner of your heart
Shall be our lovely freight. I'll bear her hence
Far from the tyrant's pow'r. I'll lead you both
To Athen's happy realm, the growing school
Of laurell'd science, and each lib'ral art,
Of laws, and polish'd life, where both may shine
The pride, the lustre of a wond'ring world,
Dear to each other, and to after-times
The pattern of all truth and faithful love.

Theseus.
Wretch that I am!—his ev'ry word presents
My inward self, the horrors of my guilt.

(aside.)
Pirithous.
Theseus,—that alter'd look,—those sighs renew'd!
Some hoarded grief,—

Theseus.
Enquire no more, but leave me.

Pirithous.
I cannot, will not leave thee: tell me all.
Some load of secret grief weighs on thy spirit.

Theseus.
There let it lodge, there swell, and burst my heart.

Pirithous.
You terrify your friend: Why heaves that groan?
Why those round drops, just starting from thy eye,
Which manhood combating forbids to fall?

Theseus.
I see my guilt.

Pirithous.
Your guilt?

Theseus.
I feel it all.

Pirithous.
If there is ought that labours in thy breast—

Theseus.
Here, here it lies.

Pirithous.
To me unbosom all.

Theseus.
Pirithous, wouldst thou think it?—Oh! my friend,
I owe to Ariadne more,—alas! much more
Than a whole life of gratitude can pay.
And yet—

Pirithous
Go on: unload thy inmost thoughts;
A friend may heal the wound.

Theseus.
Oh! no; thou'lt scorn me,
Abjure, detest, abhor me.—Wilt thou pardon
The frailties of a heart, that drives me on,
Endears the crime, and yet upbraids me still?
In me thou see'st—who can controul his love?
In me thou seest—

Pirithous.
Speak; what?

Theseus.
A perjur'd villain!
The veriest traitor, that e'er yet deceiv'd
A kind, a generous, a deluded maid,
And for his life preserv'd, for boundless love,
Can only answer with dissembling looks,
With counterfeited smiles, with fruitless thanks;
While with resistless charms another beauty—

Pirithous.
Another!—gracious pow'rs!

Theseus.
She kindles all
The passions of my soul; charms ev'ry sense,
And Phædra reigns the sov'reign of my heart.

Pirithous.
Her sister Phædra!—and does she aspire
To guilty joys? Does she admit your love?
Does she too join you in the impious league?
Will she thus wound a sister, and receive
A traitor, a deserter to her arms?

Theseus.
On me, on me let fall thy bitt'rest censure,
But blame her not.

Pirithous.
Not blame her!—Who can hear
A tale like this, and not condemn you both?
Th' ungen'rous act will tarnish all your fame.

Theseus.
Forbear, my friend; the god of love inspir'd—

Pirithous.
Some fiend, a foe to ev'ry gen'rous instinct,
A foe to all that's fair, or great in man,
Infus'd the baleful poison through your soul.

Theseus.
The guilt is mine: But spare, oh! spare my Phædra.
A single glance from those love-beaming eyes
Inflames each thought, and hurries me to madness.
Hark! (soft musick is heard)
Ariadne comes!—this way, my friend;
Thou still canst serve me. With a lover's ardour
The king beholds her, and with earnest suit
He woes her to his throne. Let us retire;
Thou still canst guide me through the maze of fate.

[Exeunt.
The back Scene opens, and soft Musick is heard.
Enter Ariadne, with a train of Virgins.
First Virgin.
Now, Ariadne, now, my royal mistress,
Propitious fortune smiles, and from this day
The gods prepare a smiling train of years.

Ariadne.
I thank you, Virgins; this kind sympathy
Shews you have hearts that feel another's bliss.
Oh! much I thank you, virgins; yes this day
Dispels the clouds, that hover'd o'er my head.
Thou source of life, thou bright, thou radiant god,
Who through creation pour'st thy flood of glory,
All hail thy golden orb! Thou com'st to quell
The howling blast, to bid the tempest ceafe,
And after all the horrors of the night,
To cheer the face of nature!—Oh! to me
Thou com'st propitious, in thy bright career
Leading thy festive train. The circling hours
That smile with happier omens, as they pass
Shedding down blessings from their balmy wings,
Prepare thy way rejoicing: with thee come
Bright Hope, and rose-lip'd Health, and pure delight,
And love and joy, the sunshine of the soul.

First Virgin.
Be all your hours like this: may no misfortune
O'ercloud the scene; and may you ne'er have cause
To dim the lustre of those eyes in tears.

Ariadne.
No, from this day, from this auspicious day,
Theseus is mine; the godlike hero's mine,
With ev'ry grace, with ev'ry laurel crown'd,
The lover's softness, and the warrior's fire.
A monarch now protects him; he has pledg'd
His royal word.—But wherefore tarries Theseus?
Swift as some god, that mounts the viewless winds,
And cleaves the liquid air, he should have flown
To tell me all, to bless me with his presence,
And bid the news more joyful touch my ear,
Rais'd and endear'd by that enchanting tongue.
Why does he loiter thus?

First Virgin.
His friends from Greece
Perhaps detain him.

Ariadne.
Oh! it must be so,
And without cause I chide his ling'ring stay.
A ship from Greece to claim us! mighty gods!
When your displeasure smote me, when your wrath,
Severely just, gave to my trembling lip
The cup of bitterness, to your high will
I bow'd in reverence down; I bore it all,
For Theseus' sake, I bore it all with patience;
And 'midst our sorrows, with a dawn of gladness
I sooth'd his wounded spirit; teach me now,
Oh! teach me how to bear this tide of joy,
Nor with excess of bounty try too much
A heart that melts, that languishes with love.

Enter Phædra.
Ariadne.
Oh! Phædra, why this long, unkind delay?
The gods restore my Theseus to my arms.

Phædra.
If the protecting gods from Theseus' head
Ward off th' impending blow, none more than Phædra
Will feel the gen'ral joy. But still my fears—

Ariadne.
Suppress them all. Theseus has nought to fear.
But where, where is he? whither has he wander'd?
Say, tell me all, and speak to me of Theseus?
In vain I ask it. Though his name delight
My list'ning ear, yet you will never charm me
With the lov'd praises of the godlike man.
On Periander's name you often dwell,
In strains, that in a heart not touch'd like mine,
Might stir affection.—Not a word of Theseus.
Why silent thus?—it is unkind reserve.
Alas, my sister, thy unruffled temper
Knows not the tender luxury of love,
That joys to hear the object it adores
Approv'd, admir'd of all: when ev'ry tongue
Grows lavish in his praise, then, then, with ecstacy
The heart runs over, and with pride we listen.

Phædra.
I have been just to Theseus; never wrong'd him.
His fame in arms has fill'd the nations round;
And purple victory in fields of death
For him has often turn'd the doubtful scale.

Ariadne.
Unkind, ungen'rous praise! Has no one told you
His brave exploits? the number of his battles?
But who can count them? Fame exalts her trump,
Delighted with his name to swell the note;
And Victory exulting claps her wings,
Still proud to follow, where he leads the way.

Phædra.
So fame reports.—With what unbounded rage
Her passions kindle.—She alarms my fears.

(aside.)
Ariadne.
Why that averted look? Of late, my sister,
Of late I've mark'd thee with dejected mien,
Pensive and sad.—If aught of discontent
Weighs on thy heart, disclose it all to me.
In ev'ry state of life, in all conditions,
With thee I have unloaded ev'ry secret,
Fled to your arms, and sigh'd forth all my care.

Phædra.
Does Ariadne think my love abated?

Ariadne.
No, Phædra, no; I harbour no mistrust.
I know thy virtues:—We grew up together,
Knit in the bands of love. No op'ning grace
That sparkled in thy eye, or dawn'd in mine,
Could prompt the little passions of our sex.
We heard each other's praise, and envy slept.
And sure had Theseus, though with boundless ardour
I now must love him, to districtaon love him,
Yet if my Theseus had first fix'd on thee,
I could (I think I could) have seen you happy
In his loved arms, and hero as he is
I had resign'd him to you.—Why that sigh,
Phædra?—why fall those tears?

Phædra.
Forgive your sister,
If still she fears for thee—Her ev'ry look,
Each word she utters pierces to my heart.

(aside.)
Ariadne.
Speak, tell me why is this? why thus alarm me?
I never had a thought conceal'd from thee.

Enter Theseus, and Pirithous.
Ariadne.
Oh! Theseus, in thy absence ev'ry moment
Was counted with a sigh. Support me, help me;
For I am faint with bliss.

Theseus.
Revive, revive;
Recall thy fleeting strength. Your counsels, Phædra,
Will best assist her; your persuasive voice
Will charm her sense, and banish all her cares.

Phædra.
At his lov'd sight, what new emotions rise!

(aside.)
Theseus.
My friend Pirithous from the realms of Greece—

Ariadne.
Pirithous here! the messenger from Athens!
When last you sojourn'd at my father's court;
(The sun has circled since his annual round)
I well remember you admir'd of all.
Men heard and praised the wonder of your friendship
For Theseus, then a stranger to these eyes,
But since beheld, and ah! beheld to charm
The heart of Ariadne!—you come now
To succour our distress.

Pirithous.
In evil hour
I sail'd from Greece. Would I had ne'er embark'd.

Ariadne.
My heart dies in me.—Say what new event—
Theseus explain, and tell me, tell me all.

Theseus.
Oh! I was born to be th' unceasing curse
Of Ariadne's life; still, still indebted,
Unable to repay.

Ariadne.
Thou generous man!
To hear those sounds, and view thee thus before me,
Oe'r pays me now for all my sufferings past.

Enter Archon.
Archon.
Theseus, on matters of some new concern,
To me unknown, your presence is required.
'Tis Periander's order.

Theseus.
I obey.

Ariadne.
What may this mean? yet, Theseus, ere you go—

Theseus.
My friend will tell each circumstance; from him
You'll calmly hear it all. And may his voice,
Soft as the breeze that pants in eastern groves,
Approach your ear, and sooth your thoughts to peace.

[Exit with Archon.
Ariadne.
The gods will watch thy ways, and Periander
Has promis'd still to shield thy suffering virtue.

Phædra.
I dread some mischief: Ariadne, here
Wait my return: I'll follow to the palace,
And bring the earliest tidings of his fate.

[Exit.
Ariadne, Pirithous.
Ariadne.
My heart is chill'd with fear. What dark event—
Can Periander—no; dishonour never
Will stain his name.—And yet that awful pause!
Those looks with grief o'erwhelm'd!—

Pirithous.
Yes, grief indeed
Sits heavy at my heart.—

Ariadne.
Reveal the cause;
Give me to know the worst. This dread suspence—

Pirithous.
Oh! that in silence I could ever hide
From you, from all, and in oblivion bury
What here is lodg'd, and shakes my soul with horror!

Ariadne.
With horror! wherefore? is not Theseus safe?
Does not his country claim him? Does not Greece
With open arms expect him? Does not Athens
Send you with orders to demand us both?

Pirithous.
From thence your dangers rise: the sons of Athens,
A quick, inconstant, fluctuating race—

Ariadne.
Yet ever wise, heroic, gen'rous, brave,
All soul, all energy. Do they oppose
Our nuptial union? Do they still maintain
Their old hostility? Do they exclude
An alien princess from the throne of Athens?
If such their will, take, take the sov'reign sway,
Th' imperial diadem, the pomp of state:
Let Theseus to his father's rights succeed,
And reign alone; make me his wedded wife;
'Tis all I ask; the gods can grant no more.
Thrones, sceptres, grandeur! love can scorn you all.

Pirithous.
Unhappy Theseus! by disastrous fate
Doom'd to betray such excellence; to see
The fairest gift of Heav'n, and spurn it from him.

(aside.)
Ariadne.
You answer not: speak and resolve my doubts.
Pity a heart, too tenderly alive,
And wild with fear, that throbs, that aches like mine.
Thy pure, exalted mind will tow'r above
The arts of mean equivocating phrase.
You'll not deceive a fond, a faithful woman.

Pirithous.
None should deceive you; none. You will forgive
My hesitating fears. I would not wound
That tender frame with aught that may alarm you.
For thee my mind misgives: the fear that awes me
Pays homage to your virtue.

Ariadne.
And does Greece
Reject the love I proffer?

Pirithous.
No, all Greece
Reveres your honour'd name: Th' Athenian state
By me demands your liberty. In terms
Of earnest import I have urg'd their claim;
But Periander,—to his ardent spirit
You are no stranger.—He no sooner heard
The name of Ariadne, than with fiercest rage—
Perhaps you know the cause—with high disdain
He spurn'd at the demand. Some hidden motive—
'Tis love perhaps—you will forgive my boldness—
'Tis love, perhaps, that prompts the stern reply.
Should I presume once more to urge the claim,
Theseus that moment must embark for Crete.
So says the king: he will not brook a rival.
You'll see your lover torn by ruffians from you;
You'll see the ship bound swiftly o'er the waves;
In vain you'll shriek; in vain extend your arms,
And call on Theseus lost!

Ariadne.
That savage purpose
The soul of Periander will disdain.

Pirithous.
What will not love persuade? love made you fly
Your father's court; and love may teach a monarch
To break all bonds, and tow'r above the laws.

Ariadne.
If this be what alarms you—

Pirithous.
Theseus' life
Once more depends on thee.—

Ariadne.
To save that life
Is there an enterprize, a scene of danger,
That Ariadne will not dare to meet?

Pirithous.
Your wond'rous daring on the wings of fame
Has reach'd the nations round. But now, alas!
One only way is left.

Ariadne.
Direct me to it.

Pirithous.
To Periander lend a gracious ear.
For thee he sighs; for thee his vows ascend.
His throne awaits thee; the imperial crown—

Ariadne.
Sir, do you know me?

Pirithous.
Princess, here to reign
In this fair island—

Ariadne.
Do you know the spirit
That rules this breast, and o'er informs my soul?

Pirithous.
Forgive the zeal that prompts me to this office.
The king intensely loves; and in a base,
Degen'rate world, from which all truth is fled,
He still may faithful prove to worth like thine.
Consult with Theseus: he can best advise you.

Ariadne.
Consult with Theseus! ask his kind consent
That I may prove a traitress to my vows!
Sir, for this counsel, for this gen'rous care,
Accept my thanks.—You are too much alarm'd.
Resign my Theseus! Oh! the gods have form'd him
With ev'ry virtue that adorn's the hero;
With valour, to incite the soldiers' wonder;
With ev'ry grace to charm the heart of woman.
Oh! none will rival him. 'Twill be the pride
Of Periander, 'tis his highest glory,
That Theseus fled for shelter to his throne,
And met protection here.

Pirithous.
I've been to blame.
Perhaps I urge too far: Princess, farewell!
May the benignant gods watch all your ways.

[Exit.
Ariadne.
Your fears are vain; each gloomy cloud shall vanish,
Or, ting'd with orient beams of smiling fortune,
With added lustre gild our various day;
While o'er our heads Hymen shall wave his torch,
Sooth all our cares, and brighten ev'ry joy.