University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

The Laurel Grove.
Aletes and Ilyssus.
Aletes.
Seem'd she disturb'd when she beheld thee?

Ilyssus.
Much;
And when I gave her the slight Hints I knew
Relating to my Fortunes, she dissolv'd
In silent Tears: such soft Humanity
Sure never dwelt in any Breast but hers.
Nor did I think till now that I had Cause
Of Discontent; but since she wept my Fate,
I seem to find a Reason in her Grief,
And feel myself unhappy.

Aletes.
Why unhappy?

Ilyssus.
I know not why; and yet to be confin'd
Thus to a single Spot; to draw in Air,
To take in Nourishment, to live, to die,
For this was Man design'd? Ah, good Aletes,
Sure thou hast taught me, Godlike Man was made
For nobler Purposes of general Good;
For Action, not for Rest.—The Queen propos'd
I should attend her to th'Athenian State;
Would'st thou advise it? Do'st thou think, Aletes,
She meant I should attend her?

Aletes.
Doubtless, Youth,
If she propos'd, she meant it.

Ilyssus.
And would'st thou
Advise I should attend her?

Aletes.
Wherefore not?

Ilyssus.
May I desert these Shades? or can I leave
Thee, thee, my good Aletes?

Aletes.
O Ilyssus,
Strive not to hide thy Heart; from me thou can'st not;
I form'd it, and I know it. Delphi's Shades
Have now no Peace for thee, thy Bosom feels
Ambition's active, unrelenting Fires.
Thou wishest, and thou hop'st, thou know'st not what.
'Tis Glory thou would'st have: Go then, brave Youth,
Where Virtue calls thee: be the Means but noble
Thou can'st not soar too high.

Ilyssus.
My more than Father!
Thy Words inspire me, and I feel a Warmth
Unknown before.—But then, my Birth—

Aletes.
Thy Birth?
Did I not early teach thee to despise
A casual Good? Thou art thyself, Ilyssus.
Inform me, Youth, would'st thou be what thou art,
Thus fair, thus brave, thus sensibly alive
To Glory's finest Feel; or give up all,
To be descended from a Line of Kings,
The tenth perhaps from Jove?—I see thy Cheek
Glows a repentant Blush.—Our greatest Heroes,
Those Gods on Earth, those Friends of Human kind,
Whose great Examples I would set before thee,
Were once unknown like thee. And yet, if Birth
Concern thee, know, prophetic is my Speech,
Thy Fate is now at work, and a few Hours
May show thee what thou art.—My Words alarm thee.

Ilyssus.
They do indeed. O tell me—

Aletes.
'Tis in vain
Thou would'st enquire from me, what Heaven conceals
Till its fit Time. Didst thou not say, Ilyssus,
The Pythia would be here?

Ilyssus.
She comes.

Aletes.
Retire
And leave us to ourselves.

Ilyssus.
I will.—And yet
Might I not know—

Aletes.
From me thou can'st know nothing.

Ilyssus.
A few Hours, said you?

Aletes.
Hence, and beg of Heaven
To prosper the Event. Retire and leave us.

[Exit Ilyssus.
Enter Pythia.
Pythia.
Now good Aletes, if thy pregnant Mind,
Deep judging of Events, has ever fram'd
Such artful Truths as won believing Man
To think them born of Heaven, and made my Name
Renown'd in Greece, O now exert thy Power.
No common Cause demands it. Kings and States
Are our Solicitors, and Athens' Fate
Hangs on my Lips.

Aletes.
I know it well. And now
If, as thou say'st, my secret kind Advice,
And worn Experience in the Ways of Men,
Have gain'd thy Altars Credit, and with Gifts
Loaded thy Shrines, now, by one grateful Act
Thou may'st repay me all.

Pythia.
What Act? O speak,
And gladly I obey.

Aletes.
An Act, my Pythia,
Which tho' at first it may seem bold and dangerous,
Shall in the End add Lustre to thy Shades,
And make ev'n Kings Protectors of thy Fane.
—O Pythia, 'twas the Hand of Heaven itself
Which brought these Royal Suppliants to thy Shrine.
I could unfold a Tale.—But let it rest.
Thou shalt ere Night know all, and bless with me
Th'indulgent Powers above. Only in this
Obey me blindly, Pythia.

Pythia.
Say in what.

Aletes.
Declare Ilyssus Heir to Athens' Crown.

Pythia.
Ilyssus Heir? what mean'st thou? 'tis a Fraud
Too palpable.

Aletes.
I knew 'twould startle thee.
But 'tis because thou know'st the Fraud, my Pythia,
That it alarms thee. Didst thou really think
This Youth were Heir to the Athenian Crown,
Would'st thou not seize the happy Gift of Chance
And to the World proclaim it?

Pythia.
True, I should;
And bless my Fate that in these sacred Shades
I had nurs'd up unknowingly a King
For my Protector. But what then might seem
The Consequence, now seems the Cause, Aletes;
Will they not say I made the King, to gain
The kind Protector?

Aletes.
So to thee it seems;
But who will say it? the believing many
Will bow with Rev'rence and implicit Faith
To what thy Shrine ordains; and for the few
Who may suspect the Cheat, true Policy
Will keep them silent: should they dare detect
A Fraud like this, and spurn at Right divine,
Where were their Power? The many-headed Beast
Would feel the slacken'd Rein, and from his Back
Shake off the lordly Rider. Nay should Athens
Be blind to her own Good, the States of Greece,
Thou know'st it well, would arm in thy Defence,
And force her to receive the King thou gav'st her.
His Form, his unknown Birth, his winning Softness,
His Education here in Heaven's own Eye,
All plead in his behalf. And, as he tells me,
The Queen already with unusual Marks
Of Favour has beheld him. For the King,
A pious Awe and Rev'rence for the Gods
Is his distinguish'd Attribute. Thou seem'st
To weigh my Words. To clear thy Doubts at once,
Know many Days have past since first I knew
Of their Approach. Thou think'st I should have told thee,
It needed not. I have myself prepar'd
Each previous Circumstance, and found due means
To forward the Event. Thy Part is easy;
Behold the Oracle.

Pythia
reads.
“A banish'd Youth is Athens' Cause of Woe.”
How know'st thou that?

[Looking earnestly at him.
Aletes.
Demand not, but read on.

Pythia
reads.
“For that Youth banish'd, Athens must receive
“Another Youth; and on the young Unknown
“Who 'tends my Shrine, and whom I call my Son,
“Bestow th'Imperial Wreath.” The God declares
“No more.”

Aletes.
Thou seem'st amaz'd.

Pythia.
I am indeed,
To find thee thus instructed on a Theme
I came prepar'd to mention. The Queen's Passion,
Her Lover banish'd—

Aletes.
What thou seest I know
May tell thee I know more But say, from whence
Thou gained'st thy Intelligence?

Pythia.
From one
Whose Zeal may thwart thy Schemes: a warm old Man,
And firm in Athens' Cause, who came to-day
Before the rest, and led by my Enquiries
Gave me those Hints on which I thought to build
Prophetic, doubtful Answers. But I find
My best Instructor here.

Aletes.
Perhaps thou do'st.
Of this rest well assur'd, I ne'er had ask'd
Of Pythia ought but what I knew with Safety
She might comply with.

Pythia.
Tell me what thou know'st.

Aletes.
Not yet; 'tis better thou remain in Ignorance
Till all be finish'd. But pronounce the Oracle,
And leave the rest to me. Do'st thou distrust me?

Pythia.
I do not.—Yet if on slight Hints alone
Thou form'st this weighty Fraud, consider well
What may or may not follow.—By thy Looks
There should be something hid.—Thy coming hither
Was much upon the Time we found this Child.
And since, with what almost paternal Care
Thou hast instructed him. Tho' that indeed
Might spring from thy Benevolence of Heart,
Which I have known is boundless. Say, Aletes,
What should I think? Thou smil'st.

Aletes.
Wilt thou obey me?

Pythia.
I must; and yet if 'tis a Fraud, Aletes,
The warm old Man of whom I spake detests
A Stranger King. Ev'n Xuthus' self, whose Worth
He doth acknowledge great, he views with Pain
Upon th'Athenian Throne.

Aletes.
I know him well;
'Tis Phorbas. Do not wonder at my Words,
But find a Means that I may see the Queen
In secret, unobserv'd by prying Eyes,
And all that old Man's Fears, and Rage shall vanish.
He shall with Joy receive a Stranger King.
Wilt thou devise the Means?

Pythia.
I now begin
To hope indeed. There is some Secret hid
Of most important Weight. But does the Queen—

Aletes.
I will not answer thee; my Time's too precious.
Only devise some Means that I may see her
Quite unobserv'd by all.

Pythia.
You cannot see her
Till all be past. Will that suffice?

Aletes.
It will.

Pythia.
Here in the Laurel Grove.

Aletes.
No Place more fit.
But O be careful, Pythia, that the King
Observe us not; for 'tis of mighty Moment
He should believe this substituted Youth
Of Race Æolian. To which End, my Pythia,
I have among the Priests these few Days past,
When they suspected not th'Approach of Xuthus,
Dropp'd doubtful Hints as if I had discover'd
Some antique Marks amid the Osier Twigs
Which form'd Ilyssus' Cradle, that denote
He sprang from Æolus: And at the Cave
Of great Trophonius have I ta'en due Care
Such Answers should be given as would induce
One of less Faith than Xuthus to expect
An Heir of his own Family.

Pythia.
The Boy,
Knows he of thy Intentions?

Aletes.
No, nor must
Till ripening Time permit. His Fate depends
Upon his Ignorance.—Soft, who comes here?

Pythia.
It is the warm old Man, and, as I think,
Some fair Attendant of the Queen. Retire.
I would know more, but—Wherefore do'st thou gaze
So ardently upon them?

Aletes.
Hence, away,
We must not now be seen.
[Exeunt Pythia and Aletes.

Enter Lycea and Phorbas.
Lycea.
This Place seems quite retir'd. Here if thou wait
I will inform the Queen, and her Impatience
Will bring her on the Instant. Surely, Phorbas,
Something mysterious lurks beneath her Tears;
Her strange Anxieties. Since thou wer't absent
This unknown Youth alone has fill'd her Thoughts,
Of him alone she talks, recounts his Words,
Describes his Looks, his Gestures; loves to dwell
On each Particular. Ere thou wer't gone
She wish'd and even expected thy Return;
Dispatch'd me often, tho' she knew 'twas vain,
To watch for thy Arrival. When the King
Approach'd, she smooth'd her Brow, as if to hide
The Strugglings of her Mind; nay seem'd afraid
He should suspect her Sorrows.

Phorbas.
Then to him
She mention'd not this Youth?

Lycea.
Her Conduct there
Was most mysterious. With a Voice of Fear,
She slightly dropp'd that she had seen a Youth
Whom she could wish to bear with her to Athens.
The King consented, and with Smiles propos'd
They should adopt him.

Phorbas.
Ha! adopt him, said'st thou?

Lycea.
In Sport he spake, but at his Words a Glow
Of sudden Joy spread o'er her Face, her Tongue
Forgot Restraint, and in his Praise grew lavish:
Then stopp'd again, and hesitating strove
To check its Zeal, as fearful to betray
Some hidden Transport.

Phorbas.
Whatsoe'er it be,
I soon shall damp her Joy. This Youth, Lycea,
Must not to Athens.—But behold, the Queen.

Lycea.
O how impatient! ere I could return
To tell her thou wer't here, she comes herself,
Eager to learn thy Tidings.

Enter Creusa.
Creusa.
Now, my Phorbas,
Say what thou know'st at once. The King already
Consents he should attend us.

Phorbas.
Never, never
Shall Athens see that Youth.

Creusa.
What mean'st thou, Phorbas?

Phorbas.
Too much already of Æolian Blood
Has hapless Athens known.

Creusa.
Æolian Blood!

Phorbas.
The King consents! I doubt not his Consent.
—Yes, 'twas my Word, great Queen, Æolian Blood;
This Youth descends from Æolus.

Creusa.
Be dumb,
Or bring me better Tidings.

Phorbas.
Worse I cannot,
But what I speak is Truth.

Creusa.
Peace, Monster, Peace!
Thou know'st not Truth. 'Tis thy affected Zeal
For Athens, for thy Country, that suggests
This horrid Falshood; 'tis thy Hate of Xuthus.

Phorbas.
What means my Queen? or how have I deserv'd
Such harsh Expressions? Does my honest Love
For Athens, and Creusa, subject me
To such unkind Suspicions?

Creusa.
Gracious Gods!
It cannot be.—Alas, forgive me, Phorbas,
I know not what I say, thy Words strike thro' me,
They pierce my very Soul. O I had hop'd—
But tell me all, tho' I believe thee honest,
Thy Zeal for Athens, and for me, may make thee
Too hasty of Belief. Why art thou silent?

Phorbas.
Amazement stops my Tongue, these Starts of Passion,
This Violence of Grief, must have a Cause.

Creusa.
Perhaps they have, perhaps to thee, good Phorbas,
This bursting Heart may open all its Sorrows.
But tell me first, what are thy Proofs? from whence
Gain'dst thou this curs'd Intelligence?

Phorbas.
O Queen,
Thy Looks, thy Words—I know not how to answer.
Yet if there be Offence in what I speak,
My Ignorance offends, not I offend.
Know then, Creusa, from the Priests who 'tend
This Delphic Shrine, by your Command I learnt
My first Intelligence.

Creusa.
And did they say
This Youth was of Æolian Race?

Phorbas.
They did.
At least their Words imported little less.
They judg'd me Xuthus' Friend, not Enemy,
As would thy Rage suggest, and as a Friend
Dropp'd Hints they thought would please me.

Creusa.
Then, perhaps,
It was not Truth they spake, they but deceiv'd
Thy Ear with well-judg'd Flattery.

Phorbas.
What follow'd
Confirm'd it Truth. Has the King mention'd to thee
What Promises were given him at the Shrine
Of sage Trophonius?

Creusa.
General Promises
Of sure Success, no more.

Phorbas.
Know then, great Queen,
As I return'd from Converse with the Priests,
I met his Friend and Bosom Fav'rite Lycon.
Joy sparkled in his Eyes, and his vain Tongue
O'erflow'd with Transport. I observ'd it well,
And gave the Torrent Passage, nay with Art
Ev'n led it blindly forward. Till at length
He open'd his whole Soul, and under Seal
Of firmest Secrecy told me the King
Would find an Heir at Delphi, such an Heir
As would rejoice the unapparent Shades
Of his great Ancestors. At that I started.
He found his Error then, and told me, glozing,
That great Trophonius had almost proclaim'd,
Tho' not expressly, Xuthus here should find
An Heir of his own Race.

Creusa.
Of his own Race?

Phorbas.
So said he; whether great Trophonius spake
This Oracle, I know not; but I know
Too well whose Oracle to me declar'd it.

Creusa.
Think'st thou this Youth—

Phorbas.
Grant it were only done
To try my Zeal, why should they try it now,
Unless some close Design requir'd that Trial?
Yes, mighty Queen, I do believe this Youth
Is our intended King. But, by yon Heaven,
If it be he, or any other He
Of Xuthus' Race, he shall not reign in Athens.
This Poinard first shall drink his Blood.

Creusa.
Forbear!
That Thought distracts me.—Tho' perhaps 'tis just.
—O Phorbas, 'twas my Hope, my Wish, my Prayer
That Youth might reign in Athens. But thy Words
Strike deadly Damps like baleful Aconite,
And poison all within.

Phorbas.
What means my Queen?

Creusa.
O Phorbas, O Lycea—but first swear
By Nemesis and the tremendous Powers
Who punish broken Faith, no Word, no Hint
Shall 'scape your Lips of all your Queen declares.

Both.
We swear!

Creusa.
Know then, O Pain to Memory!
I had a Son.

Phorbas.
A Son!

Lycea.
Good Heaven!

Phorbas.
A Son!

Creusa.
O my full Heart! Thy Mother, my Lycea,
Knew all the fatal Process of my Woes,
And was their only Solace. Phorbas, yes,
I had a Son, but witness every God
Whose genial Power presides o'er nuptial Leagues,
Nicander was my wedded Lord. That Night,
That fatal Night which drove him forth from Athens,
Forc'd from my swelling Womb, ere yet mature,
Its precious Burthen. To thy Mother's Cares
I ow'd my Life. In secret she assuag'd
My piercing Pangs, and to Nicander's Arms
In secret she convey'd the wretched Infant.
What follow'd well thou know'st. Nicander fell,
And with him doubtless fell the dear, dear Charge,
Consign'd to his Protection. Yet, good Phorbas,
When I beheld this Youth, his Looks, his Voice,
His Age, his unknown Birth, all, all conspir'd
To cheat me into Hopes. Alas, how fallen!
How blasted all!

Phorbas.
Great Queen, my Tears confess,
An old Man's Tears, which rarely fall, confess
How much I share your Anguish. Had I known
Nicander was your Lord, by Earth and Heaven,
I would have rais'd all Athens in his Cause;
Nay, been a Rebel to the best of Masters,
Ere the dear Pledge of your unspotted Loves
Should thus have fallen untimely. Now, alas,
I have not ev'n one flattering Hope to give thee.
Till now I oft have wonder'd why so far
Their Rage pursued Nicander. 'Tis too plain,
They knew the precious Burthen which he bore,
And for the hapless Child the Father died.

Creusa.
O God! I feel the Truth of what thou utter'st,
And my Heart dies within me. O Lycea,
Who, who would be a Mother!

Phorbas.
Be a Queen,
And turn thy Grief to Rage. Shall Aliens sport
With thy Misfortunes? Shall insulting Spoilers
Smile o'er the Ruins of thy hapless State,
While all the golden Harvest is their own?
Shall Xuthus triumph? shall his Race succeed?
While thine, I mean not to provoke thy Tears,
Thy tender Blossoms are torn rudely off
Almost or ere they bloom.

Creusa.
It shall not be,
No, ye immortal Powers!—Yet let us wait
Till the dire Truth glare on us. One short Hour
And Doubt shall be no more. Then, Phorbas, then
Should he presume to place on Athens' Throne
His alien Race, nay tho' this beauteous Youth,
This dear Resemblance of my murder'd Lord,
Should be the fatal Choice, by that dear Shade,
Which perish'd, as it reach'd the Gates of Life,
I will, I think I will, assist thy Vengeance.
—Soft, who comes here? 'Tis he! how innocent!
How winning soft he looks! Whate'er it be,
He knows not the Deceit. Look on him, Phorbas;
Nay, thou shalt question him.

Phorbas.
Not I. Great Queen,
Resume yourself, nor let this fond Persuasion
Betray you to a Weakness you should blush at.

Creusa.
If possible I will.

Enter Ilyssus.
Ilyssus.
Illustrious Queen,
The Altar stands prepar'd, and all Things wait
Your Royal Presence: From the King I come,
His Messenger.

Creusa.
We will attend his Pleasure.
Be near me, Phorbas; I may want thy Counsel.

Ilyssus.
She looks not on me sure as she was wont.
I'll speak to her. Permit me, gracious Queen,
To pay my humblest Thanks, for by your means
The King is kind as you are.

Creusa.
Rise, Ilyssus.
Perhaps you needed there no Advocate.
Phorbas, lead on. My Resolution melts,
And all my Sex returns. One Look from him
Outweighs a thousand Proofs. Phorbas, lead on,
Or I am lost in Weakness.
[Exeunt Creusa and Phorbas.

Ilyssus
, stopping Lycea.
Gentle Maid,
Stay yet a Moment. Wherefore does the Queen
Look coldly on me? Know'st thou if in ought
I have offended?

Lycea.
Things of mightiest Import
At present fill her Mind, nor leave they room
For less Affairs. My Duty calls me hence.

[Exit.
Ilyssus.
I hope it is no more; yet each Appearance
Alarms me now. Aletes, thou hast rais'd
Such Conflicts here, such Hopes, such Fears, such Doubts,
That Apprehension sinks beneath their Weight.
Well might'st thou say these solitary Shades
Have now no Peace for me. Yet once thou taught'st me,
That the pure Mind was its own Source of Peace.
But that Philosophy I find belongs
To private Life, for where Ambition enters
I feel it is not true.

[Exit.