University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

The Vestibule of the Temple.
Aletes
alone.
Why should I doubt? it will, it must succeed.
Yet I could wish that I had seen Creusa
Before 'twas undertaken, for perhaps—
'Tis better as it is. Her Part had then
Been difficult to act; now what she does,
Assisting or opposing the Design,
Will all seem natural.—The Pythia sure
Will act as I directed.—Hark, the Rites
Should be ere this perform'd; why stay they then?
—That Noise proclaims them finish'd, and the Croud
Will soon be here.—They come, I must not yet
Be seen; the Pythia in the Laurel Grove
May tell me what has pass'd.

[Exit.
Creusa descends hastily from the Temple in great Disorder, Lycea following.
Lycea.
Stay, mighty Queen,
You know not what you do; your Rage transports you;
You leave the Rites unfinish'd, and the Croud
In wild Amazement gaze on your Departure.

Creusa.
I will not stay, nor will I tamely bear
My disappointed Hopes. O honest Phorbas,
O good old Man, thy penetrating Mind
Saw early their Designs. 'Tis to supply
Nicander's Loss (O ne'er to be supply'd!)
That we must call in Strangers to the Throne,
And yield our Scepters to Æolian Hands.
—Yes, ye great Shades of my Progenitors,
I hear ye call, ye shall, ye shall have Vengeance!

Lycea.
Whatever you design, conceal at least
This Transport of your Rage.

Creusa.
Why loiters Phorbas?
He saw my Anguish, wherefore comes he not
To its Relief? They fool me past Endurance.
Rely they on the Weakness of my Sex?
Lycea, they shall find this feeble Arm
In such a Cause can lay the Distaff by,
And grasp th'unerring Thunderbolt of Jove.
O Phorbas, art thou come?

Enter Phorbas from the Temple.
Phorbas.
Now, mighty Queen,
Are my Suspicions just? is Phorbas honest?

Creusa.
As Light, as Truth itself. My Counsellor,
My Bosom Friend!

Phorbas.
Now shall a casual Likeness,
If such there be, a semblant Cast of Features,
The Sport of Nature in a human Form,
Shall Trifles light as these weigh down Conviction?
O Queen, from first to last th'apparent Scheme
Glares on us now. Why were we brought to Delphi,
But that this Youth has long been nurtur'd here
In secret from the World; perhaps the Son
Of Xuthus' self, plac'd here at first to hide
The Guilt and Shame of some dishonest Mother,
Tho' now applied to more pernicious Ends.

Creusa.
It may be so.

Phorbas.
And why, say why, to-day,
While Xuthus stays behind for Oracles
He wanted not, is young Ilyssus bid
To meet your Eyes, and win with artful Tales
Your easy Heart?

Creusa.
Bid! was he bid to do it?

Phorbas.
I saw the Priestess whisper something to him,
Then loud she bade him wait for thy Approach.
She must, forsooth, retire to sacred Glooms,
And wait for Inspiration. Xuthus' Gold
Was what inspir'd the Traitress. Yet, good Heaven,
When from the Shrine she gave the fraudful Words,
With what strange Art the holy Hypocrite
In mimic Trances died!—“A banish'd Youth
“Is Athens' Cause of Woe.” Too truly said,
Tho' for a wicked Purpose, to allure
Thy easy Faith, and lead thee to admit
The Fraud which follow'd.

Creusa.
Never, never, Phorbas,
Will I that Fraud admit. How readily
Did Xuthus, when my foolish Fondness ask'd it,
Consent to my Request! [To Lycea.
Thou heard'st him say
We should adopt this Youth; in seeming Sport
He spake it, but ev'n then th'insulting Tyrant
Couch'd fatal Truths beneath th'ambiguous Phrase.

Phorbas.
Why should a Youth design'd for Solitude
Be taught the Arts of War? He saw himself
The Impropriety. Who is this Sage
That has instructed him? And why should Lycon
O'erflow with sudden Joy, but that he found,
From thy apparent Fondness for the Boy,
Their Schemes grew practicable, Nay, to-day,
When to the Priestess' self my honest Love
For Athens, and Dislike of Stranger Kings,
Burst freely forth, she chid my hasty Zeal,
Commended Xuthus, talk'd of Piety
And Rev'rence to the Gods: 'Twas to their Priests
She meant, their meddling Priests, who dare presume
To sport with Thrones, to sell their Gods for Gold,
And stamp rank Falshoods with the Seal of Heaven.

Lycea.
Forbear, you are too loud so near the Temple;
Xuthus himself will hear.

Creusa.
We would be heard.
Instruct me, Phorbas, by what means to crush
This impious Combination.

Phorbas.
Athens yet
Has honest Hearts. Yes, Phorbas yet has Friends
Who dare be Patriots, and prefer their Country
To Xuthus' kindest Smile. Some such are here
Ev'n now at Delphi. But, illustrious Queen,
We must with Caution act. The Name of Heaven,
Howe'er usurp'd, adds Vigour to their Cause,
And weakens ours. We might in secret find
A sure Revenge.

Creusa.
What?

Phorbas.
Death.

Creusa.
Of Xuthus?

Phorbas.
His
Might follow, but the more immediate Cause
Should earliest be remov'd, the Boy.

Creusa.
The Boy!
Why should he die? Believe me, honest Phorbas,
He knows not of the Fraud. His every Look
Proclaims his Innocence. If impious Men
Make him their Instrument of evil Deeds,
Can he be blam'd? Bred up in Shades, poor Youth,
He never knew the Arts of base Mankind,
Nor should he share their Punishment.

Phorbas.
O Queen,
They have too well succeeded. This fond Passion,
Which their insidious Cunning first inspir'd,
Clings close about your Heart, and may at last
Undo us all.—But hark, that Noise declares
The finish'd Rites. Retire we to the Grove,
And there will I enforce—

Creusa.
No, let us stay.
I will confront this artful Politician,
And shew him I am yet a Queen.

Phorbas.
Perhaps
'Twere better to retire till our full Scheme
Were ripe for Vengeance.— Aside.
Yet if we remain,
High Words must rise, which will alarm her Pride
And fit her for my Purpose.
Enter Xuthus, Ilyssus, Priests, Virgins, Guards, &c. from the Temple.
Xuthus, (coming up to Creusa)
Thy Looks, Creusa, thy abrupt Departure
Affronting to the God himself, and these
His sacred Ministers, too plainly shew
Irreverent Rage, resisting Heaven's high Will.
Nor do'st thou want I see, unthinking Woman,
Inflamers of thy Folly.—But of this
Enough; behold the Youth whom Heaven designs
Thy Heir, and mine.

Creusa.
My Heir!

Xuthus.
Thy Heir, Creusa.
What means that haughty Look? Why with Contempt
Do'st thou behold him? Is he chang'd, Creusa?
Have a few Hours so totally transform'd him?
Is all that winning Grace of which thou spak'st
Almost with Rapture, is that native Charm
Of Innocence all vanish'd? Hear him speak,
Hear if he talks less sensibly than when
Thy pleas'd Attention hung upon his Words,
And lent each Syllable an added Grace.
What hast thou found, or thy grave Monitor
What has he found, which can so suddenly
Have wrought this wond'rous Change? Is it because
The Gods have thought with thee that he deserves
A Crown? or is it that my Will consents?
And therefore thine, proud Queen, perversely strives
To combat thy Affections?

Creusa.
We methinks
Have chang'd Affections. The calm, steady Xuthus,
Whose equal Mind ne'er knew the stormy Gusts
Of discomposing Passion, now can feel
Indecent Warmth when touch'd by pious Zeal.
Nay he, to whom the tend'rer Sentiments
Seem'd but the Weakness of the human Frame,
Now wakes inspir'd with some unusual Softness.
Have Oracles the Power to raise at once
The kind Affections? or did he conceal
The smother'd Flame, 'till authoris'd by Heaven
It might burst out unquestion'd?

Xuthus.
Haughty Queen,
I understand thee well; thou think'st this Youth
A Substitute of mine, and dar'st affront
Yon awful Shrine, the Fountain of pure Truth.
But by that God who bears the vengeful Bow,
And whose large Eye—Yet wherefore should I strive
By Oaths to undeceive thee; Breasts like mine
Can scorn th'imputed Falshood they detest.
Nor am I now to learn from what vile Source
Thy vain Suspicions rise. But know, proud Queen,
This Youth shall reign in Athens; and yet more
To punish thy vain Pride, since thou provok'st it,
I do believe him of Æolian Race.

Creusa.
Thou do'st?

Xuthus.
I do. A Race as glorious, Queen,
As Cecrops' boasted lineage. For the Youth,
Were I to beg the choicest Boon of Heaven
From my own Loins to rise, I could not hope
A nobler Offspring.

Phorbas.
[Aside to Creusa.
Hear'st thou that?

Creusa.
I do,
And will revenge the Insult.

Ilyssus.
[Kneeling.
Gracious Queen!
What have I done which should estrange thee to me?
Am I the unhappy Cause of these Dissentions?

Creusa.
Kneel not to me, Ilyssus.

Xuthus.
Kneel not to her;
'Tis I am thy Protector, and thy Friend,
Nay now thy Father.

Ilyssus.
Yet, O mighty King,
Permit me at her Royal Feet to pay
My humblest Duty. If I call thee Father,
She sure must be a Mother.

[She turns away disorder'd.
Xuthus.
Rise, Ilyssus,
Thou seest she stands unmov'd.

Ilyssus.
No, now she softens,
I see it in her Eyes.

Creusa.
I will, I will
Be Mistress of my Soul.—Why kneel'st thou, Youth,
I blame not thee.

Xuthus.
Me then thou blam'st, Creusa.
I am the Object of thy Rage. 'Tis Xuthus
Thou think'st unworthy of th'Athenian Throne.

Creusa.
Athens might well have spar'd a foreign Lustre,
Secure of Fame, had Xuthus ne'er been born.

Xuthus.
Ungrateful Queen, had Xuthus ne'er been born
What now had Athens been?

Creusa.
Perhaps in Ruins,
And better so than to become the Prey
Of needy wand'ring Strangers.

Xuthus.
Earth, and Heaven!
This the Return?—I knew thou never loved'st me,
Yet, witness Heav'n, I ravish'd not thy Hand,
Thou gav'dst it sullenly, but yet thou gav'dst it;
And I well hop'd thy Female Sense of Honour,
Of Duty to thy Lord, might have secur'd
At least my future Peace. Thy tend'rer Thoughts,
The Wife's best Ornament, I knew were buried
In a Plebeian Grave.

Creusa.
Plebeian Grave?

Xuthus.
Fool that I was, I flatter'd thy vain Sorrows,
Indulg'd their weak Excess, and rais'd, I find,
Imaginary Rivals in the Tomb.
But never more, Creusa, never more
Shalt thou affront my ill-requited Fondness.
I will destroy that Pageant of thy Passion,
Tear from that Idol Shrine th'insulting Wreaths,
And cancel thy mock Worship.

Ilyssus.
Gracious Queen,
Retire a while.

Creusa.
Be gone.—Insulting Tyrant,
Touch but a Wreath that's sacred to Nicander,
And by pale Hecate's awful Rites I swear
Thy Life shall pay the Forfeit; nay the Lives
Of thy whole dastard Race.—Plebeian Grave!
Had that Plebeian liv'd, Imperial Xuthus
Had crouch'd beneath his Feet.

Xuthus.
O would to Heaven
This scepter'd Arm could raise him from the Earth,
That thou might'st see how infamous a Slave
Thou dar'st prefer to Xuthus.—Come, Ilyssus,
We leave her to her Follies. Look not on her,
She merits not thy Tenderness. Away.
If Reason should again resume its Seat
We may expect her at the Banquet. Come,
All here must be our Guests.
[Exeunt Xuthus, Ilyssus, &c.

[Creusa, Phorbas, and Lycea stay.
Phorbas.
Curb not thy Passion, give it Vent, great Queen,
And let it burst in Thunder on thy Foes.

Creusa.
It shall, by Heaven it shall.—I thought till now
My Griefs were sacred, but this Monster dares
Insult even Misery itself.—O Phorbas,
Forgive me if my Tears will force a Passage.—
Now, they are gone, and I will weep no more.
Come, faithful Counsellor of Vengeance, come,
Instruct me how to act, steel all my Soul;
Let not Remorse or Pity's Coward Voice,
The Bane of noble Deeds, intrude to cross us.
Nicander's injur'd Ghost shall aid our Counsels.
Say, shall he die?

Phorbas.
Not yet, first be his Schemes
Abortive all, his politic Designs,
Then let him die despis'd.

Creusa.
Agreed; but how?

Phorbas.
Now at the Banquet may we crush at once
His full blown hopes. The fatal Cause remov'd,
Th'Effect of course must cease.

Creusa.
What Cause?

Phorbas.
The Boy.
I see thou shudder'st at it: but, great Queen,
Hear but the cogent Reasons I shall offer
And thou wilt think as I do. For the Boy
Heav'n knows I wish to spare him, but no Means
No earthly Means but this can curse compleatly
This politic Designer. Doubtless long
This fav'rite Scheme to place on Athens' Throne
His hated Race, has labour'd in his Breast,
And all his Hours employ'd. On this alone
He builds the firm Foundation of his Peace,
His Happiness to come. His Death were nothing,
He knows his Friends, the Minions of his Fortune,
He knows all Greece, such is their Dread and Awe
Of Delphi's Shrine, will join in the Support
Of this deceitful Claim; and that firm Hope
Will make him triumph ev'n in Death, and laugh
At our too shallow Vengeance.

Creusa.
Laugh he shall not.
No, I will punish home.

Phorbas.
You cannot punish
By any Means but this. And know, great Queen,
I have a Poison of such subtile Force,
(Why do'st thou start?) of such amazing Strength,
Yet so peculiar in its Operation,
That it shall seem the Surfeit of the Feast,
Not we have done the Deed. At least shall seem so
To all but Xuthus' self; for he methinks
Should know the Truth, at least suspect it strongly,
And yet not dare Revenge.

Creusa.
I cannot bear it;
Howe'er we fail in our Revenge; my Phorbas,
The Boy must live.

Phorbas.
Good Heav'n! is this Creusa?
Is this the vengeful Queen who would not hear
Remorse or Pity's Voice?—Farewel then Athens;
Yes, my poor Country, thou must sink enslav'd
To foreign Tyrants. She who should defend
Thy Rights, thy Liberties, stands tamely by
And sees the Yoke impos'd, nay smiles to see it:
Thy Queen, the last of her illustrious Line,
Consents to thy Destruction.

Creusa.
Never, Phorbas.
Do what thou wilt. With this last parting Pang
I give him to thy Rage.—Yet oh, beware
I see him not again. One Look from him
Would baffle all thy Schemes.

Phorbas.
Now at the Banquet
Will we infuse the Draught, ev'n in the Cup
Which the King's self presents to his young Heir
In Token of Election.

Creusa.
Stay, good Phorbas.

Phorbas.
Already have I for the just Design
Suborn'd a faithful Slave. Nay, should it fail,
I have a trusty Band, a chosen few,
Athenian Souls who scorn to bow the Knee
To any foreign Lord; these will I place
At the Pavilion Doors, if need require,
To second our Attempt.

Creusa.
Yet stay, good Phorbas.
How kindly did he seem to sympathize
With my Distress! nay almost chid the King,
When his loud Rage—

Phorbas.
He had been taught his Lesson.
'Twas all Design, all Artifice to work
Upon a Woman's Weakness.

Creusa.
Think'st thou so?

Phorbas.
I do. But, O my Queen, be more than Woman,
Conquer this Foible of thy Sex.

Creusa.
Heav'n knows
How much it costs to do it.—Go then, Phorbas,
I cannot bid thee prosper.
[Exit Phorbas.
O Lycea,
Thou know'st not what I feel.—Haste, call him back.—
No, stay—I think the Bitterness is past,
And I can bear it now. Lend me thy Arm,
I would retire, Lycea.—Yet from what
Should I retire? I cannot from myself!—
O Boy, thou art reveng'd; whate'er thou suffer'st
Is light, to what thy Murd'ress feels!

[Exeunt.