 | Themistocles |  |
SCENE II.
Enter Neocles.Neoc.
Once again
Father belov'd, on innocence and virtue
The stars propitious shine: from every danger
We now are freed. When Athens shall receive
These wondrous tidings, how will terror shake
105
Our fortune's happy course: I see it all.
And now, with thee, I seem to reap my part
Of wealth and honours, share with thee the praise
Of palms and triumphs; pass Alcides' bounds,
And conquer kings and give to kingdoms laws.
Them.
Hold, Neocles; and trust not yet too far
Our present state. Thy ardour now exceeds,
As late thy fear? When adverse winds prevail'd,
Thou trembledst near the port; and now they shew
A moment's favouring change, at once, my son,
Thou open'st all thy canvas to the breeze,
Ill tim'd in both. Thy confidence of soul
Is now a fault, but then had been a virtue:
And that distrust, which once so far depress'd thee,
Was then a fault, but would be virtue now.
Neoc.
And what have we to fear?
Them.
In what to trust?
These treasures? These a moment has bestow'd,
A moment may resume them. In the friends
Thou saw'st me late acquire? These are not mine,
They come with Fortune, and with her depart.
Neoc.
But royal Xerxes' favour will suffice
To make our state secure.
Them.
And Xerxes' anger,
Suffice to be our ruin.
Neoc.
No: the king
Is far too wise and just.
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A king so great,
Beholds not all himself, too oft deceiv'd
When wicked men besiege the royal ear;
And wicked men abound in every clime.
Neoc.
Thy virtue still must make thee rise above
The calumny of courts.
Them.
O! no, where each
Attempts o'er all to make his merits shine,
The virtue, most admir'd, is least secure.
Neoc.
What then remains?—
Them.
Depart—The king approaches.
Neoc.
In all thy words what magic seems conceal'd!
But now I thought us bless'd, and now I fear
A thousand perils. In a few short moments,
All, all to me assumes a different form.
But now I thought us bless'd, and now I fear
A thousand perils. In a few short moments,
All, all to me assumes a different form.
Before the pleas'd spectator's eyes
Thus various forms successive rise,
Which oft the mimic stage supplies,
With every art bestow'd.
A prison, dark as dreary night,
Becomes a palace fair and light;
And groves of verdure cheer the sight,
Where late the billows flow'd.
Thus various forms successive rise,
Which oft the mimic stage supplies,
With every art bestow'd.
A prison, dark as dreary night,
Becomes a palace fair and light;
And groves of verdure cheer the sight,
Where late the billows flow'd.
[Exit.
| Themistocles | |