University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Porticoes of the palace adjoining to the sea. Ships near the shore.
Ulysses, Achilles in a military dress.
Ulys.
Achilles, I confess the hero now;
I see thee all thyself. O! how the dress
Of female weeds obscur'd thy godlike mien!
Behold the warrior now. The serpent thus
Forth issues to the sun, with youth renew'd,
And as he rides on golden spires, or trails
His lengthen'd curls, rejoices in his strength.

Ach.
To thee, O mighty chief, Achilles owes
A life restor'd: but like a captive scarce
Releas'd from bonds, I doubt my freedom still;
Still seem to view the dungeon's dreary gloom,
And hear the clanking of inglorious chains.

Ulys.
[looking out.]
Why comes not Arcas yet?

[aside.
Ach.
Are these, Ulysses,
Thy ships that sail'd from Greece?

Ulys.
They are: nor less
Will these with pride exult, than Argo once,
To bear their glorious burthen, while Achilles
Can singly weigh against that band of heroes,
And all the treasures brought from Phryxus' shore.

Ach.
Then wherefore this delay?

Ulys.
Ho! mariners,
Approach the land— [aside.]
And yet I see not Arcas.

Ach.
Why are not these Scamander's hostile shores?
There, there it shall be known how soon Achilles
Will cancel every fault, when glorious toils
Of fighting fields shall wash my stains away.
This sword shall plead forgiveness for the hours,
The slothful hours of Scyros: then perhaps
My trophies gain'd may swell the trump of fame,
And leave no time to blaze my follies past.

Ulys.
O! glorious warmth! O! godlike sense of shame!
That well befits Achilles: never, never
Such virtue could be hid from human kind,
And buried in the narrow bounds of Scyros.
Too far, O Thetis! thy maternal fears
Betray'd thy better sense: thou might'st have known
That here to keep conceal'd so fierce a flame,
All arts were vain and every labour fruitless.

Ach.
Behold the vessels now approach the shore:
Ulysses, follow me.

[going towards the sea.

SCENE II.

Enter Arcas in haste.
Ulys.
[aside to Arc.]
Arcas, what means
Thy long delay?

Arc.
Let us with speed embark
Lest aught obstruct our purpose.

Ulys.
Say what mean'st thou?

Arc.
Depart, depart, and thou shall learn it all.

Ulys.
Give me at least some token.

Arc.
Deidamia,
Wild with her love, and blinded with her rage,
Pursues our steps: I could no longer stay her,
And flew before to bear the unwelcome tidings.

Ulys.
This dangerous meeting must not be, my Arcas.

Ach.
[returning impatient.]
Why do we linger thus?

Ulys.
Behold me ready.

Ach.
[to Arc.]
What cause disturbs thee thus? say, Arcas.

Arc.
Nothing.

Ulys.
Let us depart.

Ach.
[to Arc.]
What mean those frequent looks
Cast back with anxious search? What fear'st thou? Speak.

Ulys.
[aside.]
O! mighty Gods!

Arc.
[to Ach.]
My lord, I fear, perhaps—
The king perhaps may hear of our departure,
And seek by force to stay us.

Ach.
Seek by force?
Am I his prisoner then, and would he thus—

Ulys.
No—but 'tis prudent we should fly from all
That might detain us.

Ach.
Shall Achilles fly?

Ulys.
Let us not waste the time in vain delays:
Haste to the sea—the winds and waves invite us.

[takes Achilles by the hand, and goes with him towards the sea-shore.

SCENE III.

Enter Deidamia.
Deid.
Ah! whither, whither goest thou, O! Achilles?
Yet stay and hear me.

[Achilles turns and sees Deidamia: both remain some time silent.
Ulys.
[aside.]
Now indeed I fear.

Arc.
[aside.]
Behold where love and glory both contend.

Deid.
Inhuman man! and is it possible?
Could'st thou then leave me?

Ulys.
[aside to Ach.]
If thou mak'st reply
Thou art vanquish'd.

Ach.
[to Ulys.]
Fear me not; whate'er my feelings,
I'll struggle to suppress them.

Deid.
Such reward,
O cruel! dost thou yield for love like mine?
Could such a form conceal a treacherous heart?
Learn hence, too easy maidens, learn from him
To trust a lover's faith: even now he swore
Eternal constancy, and in a moment
Forgets it all—departs, forsakes me thus,
Without one tender sigh, one last adieu.

Ach.
[aside.]
My breaking heart!

Arc.
[aside.]
He melts.

Deid.
What cause could make thee
At once my foe? Alas! what have I done?
What crime of mine can merit thus thy hatred?

Ach.
No, princess, no—

Ulys.
Achilles—

Ach.
[to Ulys.]
But one word:
I ask no more.

Ulys.
[aside.]
Then all is lost.

Ach.
[to Deid.]
No, princess,
Believe me not a traitor or thy foe:
Eternal truth I've sworn and I will keep it.
The rigid laws of honour tear me from thee;
But I'll return more worthy of thy love.
If silent I depart, think not my silence
Was scorn or hatred: O! 'twas fear and pity.
Pity for thee, a prey to tender sorrow,
And fear that constancy in me would prove
Unequal to the task: the first, alas!
I well foresaw, the last I dar'd not trust.
I know thou lov'st me dearer than thy life,
And well I know—

Ulys.
Achilles.

Ach.
See me here
Prepar'd to quit the port.

Arc.
[aside.]
And yet he comes not.

Ach.
[to Deid.]
Still in my breast—

Deid.
No more—'tis now too late—
Forgive my transports to excess of love.
'Tis true, Achilles owes himself to Greece,
To all the world, and to his own renown.
Then go—no longer I oppose thy purpose:
My heart's affection shall attend thee still;
But since I here without thee must remain,
O! be the stroke less dreadful—leave me not
Thus unprepar'd: allow my feeble virtue
Some time for recollection—but one day—
I ask no more—go then, depart in peace.
Such grace is not denied a wretch condemn'd
To meet his death; and can I doubt Achilles
Will now refuse this grant to Deidamia?

Arc.
[aside.]
If she obtain a day she conquers all.

Deid.
Ah! think—Ah! speak—thy downcast eyes are fix'd
In pensive silence still.

Ach.
[to Ulys.]
What says Ulysses?

Ulys.
'Tis at thy choice, Achilles, to depart,
Or here abide: to me is not permitted
A longer tarriance here: resolve to quit
The port, or leave me to embark alone.

Ach.
[aside.]
O! cruel state!

Deid.
Yet answer me, Achilles.

Ach.
Fain would I stay in pity to thy grief,
But heard'st thou not Ulysses?

[points to Ulys.
Ulys.
Well—resolve.

Ach.
[to Ulys.]
I would pursue thy steps, but seest thou not
Who pleads against thee?

[points to Deid.
Deid.
'Tis enough—I see
Thy choice is made and thou prepar'st to leave me.
Go then, ungrateful man! farewell for ever.

[going.
Ach.
Stay, Deidamia.

[follows her.
Ulys.
I perceive, Achilles,
Thy purpose to remain. Irresolute,
Degenerate youth! I leave thee and depart.

[going.
Ach.
Ulysses, stay.

Deid.
[to Ach.]
What would'st thou?

Ulys.
Whither tends
Thy purpose now?

Ach.
I would, my Deidamia,
Indulge thy wish— [aside.]
O Heaven! what means this weakness.
[to Ulys.]
To thee, Ulysses, would I yield my guidance—
[aside.]
But this were surely cruel—If my glory
Exact obedience here, there love denies it.

Arc.
[aside.]
'Tis doubtful which will conquer.

Deid.
Since to grant me
So light a boon excites such painful struggles,
I press no further—yet one grace I ask
More worthy thee: depart, but ere thou goest,
Deep in my bosom plunge thy glorious sword,
This will avail us both: for thou, Achilles,
Wilt thus begin to inure thy soul to slaughter,
And Deidamia shun a lingering death:
So may'st thou gladly go, and go unquestion'd.
I die content, if he, whom still my heart
Must ever love, dear master of my fate,
If he, alas! who has refus'd me life,
At least in pity thus concludes my woes.

[weeps.
Arc.
[aside.]
Were I Achilles I could hold no longer.

Deid.
Thy last best gift—

Ach.
Ah! cease—lament no more:
Ulysses, longer to reject her suit
Were useless cruelty.

Ulys.
So thinks Achilles.

Ach.
She asks but for a day; a single day
May surely be indulg'd me.

Ulys.
Not a day.
I go to tell the assembled Argive chiefs
The glories of Achilles; yes, from me
Each ear may learn what generous toils have cleans'd
His fame; what great amends his sword has made
For all his sloth at Scyros, and by him
What numerous trophies fill the mouth of fame.

Ach.
But valour loses not—

Ulys.
Talk not of valour.
Strip off those arms, a useless load for Pyrrha.
What ho! bring forth the hero's silken robes,
And let him rest awhile: his fainting brows
Enough have felt the helmet's massy weight.

Arc.
[aside.]
How well Ulysses proves his every art
To rouse the latent hero.

Ach.
[to Ulys.]
Am I Pyrrha?
To me the silken robes?

Ulys.
O! no—thou giv'st
Great proofs of manly mind: thou canst not conquer
One weak, one poor affection.

Ach.
[firmly.]
Better learn
To know Achilles—let us go.

Deid.
Achilles:
And wilt thou leave me?

Ach.
Strong necessity
Compels me.

Deid.
Say'st thou?

Ach.
Longer to remain
Were fatal to my honour—Deidamia,
Farewell!

[goes resolutely to the ship; is about to ascend the deck, then stops. Ulysses and Arcas follow. Deidamia continues some time immoveable.
Arc.
[aside.]
Ulysses' taunts at length have rous'd
His sleeping honour.

Ulys.
[aside.]
Yet we are not secure.

Deid.
Barbarian! traitor! wilt thou then be gone?
Is this a lover's parting?—Tyranny
Beyond example!—Hence thou fly'st from me,
But shalt not fly from Heaven—If Gods are just,
And pity human sufferings, all will join
To punish thy misdeeds: my injur'd ghost
Shall haunt thy sight and witness my revenge.
Already now my soul enjoys the thought!—
I see the lightnings flash—O! no, forbear,
Vindictive powers!—if one must pay the forfeit,
O! spare that breast belov'd and strike at mine.
If cruel he has chang'd his former self,
Yet Deidamia's heart is still the same:
For him I liv'd, for him I now will die.

[faints.
Ach.
Ah! let me fly—

[to Ulys.
Ulys.
And whither would Achilles?

Ach.
To save my Deidamia.

Ulys.
Then no longer—

Ach.
And canst thou hope that I will leave her thus?

Ulys.
Are these thy proofs of valour?

Ach.
[in anger.]
Thou would'st ask
For proofs of valour, proofs of cruelty.
—Ulysses, give me way.

[breaks from him and runs to Deidamia.
Arc.
[aside.]
Then Love has conquer'd.

Ach.
My life! my princess! hear me—mighty Gods!
She answers not—lift up those lovely eyes,
Behold, behold thy own Achilles here.

Ulys.
I fear, my Arcas, 'tis not now a time
To hope for victory: we must resign
The palm, and seek the field with other arms.

[Exit with Arcas, unseen by Achilles.

SCENE IV.

Deidamia, Achilles.
Deid.
Ah! me.

[recovering.
Ach.
The Gods be prais'd! she breathes again.
—O! no, my hope, Achilles will not leave thee.

Deid.
Art thou indeed Achilles? Sure I dream—
What would'st thou now?

Ach.
All peace to thee, my love.

Deid.
Could'st thou, unkind, refuse a single day?
And now thou com'st—

Ach.
It was not I oppos'd
Thy gentle wish—behold thy foe—but, ha!
What can this mean? Ulysses is not here:
He leaves me then.

SCENE V.

Enter Nearchus.
Near.
If you would find Ulysses,
He seeks the king, and with his sanction means
To bear you, thus discover'd, to his ships.

Deid.
This only wanted to complete my sufferings:
All must be then reveal'd to Lycomedes.

Near.
Believe not now your secret first disclos'd.
Theagenes, alarm'd at your distraction,
Soon found the cause, and hasted to the king,
Who holds him now in converse.

Deid.
O! ye Powers!
Unhappy Deidamia! what has fate
In store? If you, Achilles, should forsake me,
Where shall I fly for pity?

Ach.
I forsake thee
In such a trial!—no—my first exploit
Would then be impious treason: calm thy fears,
And trust to me thy fortune and my own.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

Deidamia, Nearchus.
Deid.
Support me, O! Nearchus, give me comfort.

Near.
Alas! what comfort can I give, oppress'd
With doubts and terrors that exceed thy own?

Deid.
Ye pitying Gods! if my affections ever
Were innocent and pure, do you protect me:
Dispel the cloud that wraps me thus in darkness.
If love's a crime, I must confess I err'd;
If love like mine be guilt—I lov'd Achilles.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

Nearchus
alone.
Go, go, Nearchus, now, and proudly triumph
In all thy prosperous cares: to Thetis tell
How arts, like thine, could tame the fierce Achilles.
Boast every studied speech of fawning flattery,
And all thy soothing phrase of timid counsels.
Lo! how thy hopes are crush'd: Ulysses singly
Has baffled every plan.—What stars averse
Could send this crafty Greek to Scyros' shore?

[Exit.

SCENE VIII.

The Palace.
Lycomedes, Achilles, Theagenes, attendants.
Ach.
And does not Lycomedes deign to answer
When thus Achilles sues?

Theag.
Great king, what means
This doubtful silence? Yield, O! yield at length
To my request, and to Achilles' wishes.
Why do you pause? Perhaps your mind revolves
The promise given to me: but think not, sir,
Theagenes so weighs his little merits
Against such nuptials. Well I know from these
What earth and heaven expect. The Gods themselves
Have fram'd this union: Fate could never weave
Such strange events but for mysterious ends.
Does love offend you? In a virtuous bosom
Can love be guilt? Perhaps your mind revolts
From such a fraud; but Thetis here is guilty,
And Thetis now is punish'd. Thus attir'd,
She hop'd from every eye to hide her son,
And made him known to all. These spousal rites
Will glad the exulting earth, that ne'er till now
Beheld such valour, worth and beauty join'd.
On these what favouring grace will Heaven bestow,
Both sprung from heavenly seed! What sons from these
Our hopes may form, when, Lycomedes, you,
And you, Achilles, boast for ancestry
A countless line of heroes?

Ach.
[aside.]
Could I ever
Have hop'd Theagenes to plead my cause?

Lyc.
Achilles, yes, a name so great as thine
Engrosses all my thoughts. What can I answer
To nuptials so desir'd? Theagenes
With generous zeal approves, and Heaven commands them.
Thou ask'st her hand, Achilles, and a father
Confirms the grant. With wonder I contemplate
Such strange adventures, and in these, respectful
Adore the wisdom of the immortal powers.

Ach.
Ah! Lycomedes, ah! Theagenes—
O! fly and hasten hither to my sight
My love, my plighted bride.
[to the attendants.
[to Theag.]
Ah! prince, to thee
What does Achilles owe? My lord, my father,
How shall my soul with gratitude repay
This precious gift?

[to Lyc.
Lyc.
Enough for Lycomedes
To be the father of a son like thee.

SCENE IX.

Enter Ulysses.
Ach.
O! come, Ulysses, thou perhaps hast heard
Achilles' happiness.

Ulys.
Far other cares
Have brought me hither. [to Lyc.]
Mighty king, it now
Imports that all disguise be cast aside:
I must at length declare the will of Greece:
Know then—

Lyc.
Already is it known, Ulysses,
And every part shall meet a fair reply.

SCENE LAST.
Enter Deidamia attended.
Ach.
[meeting Deid.]
O! dearest, best belov'd! and art thou come
To bless these eyes? Did I not tell thee, sweet,
That still for us propitious fate would smile?

Deid.
[kneels to Lyc.]
My king, my father, prostrate at your feet—

Lyc.
Rise, Deidamia, 'twere superfluous now
To hear thee further. I already know
The high decrees of Heaven. With me it rests
To end a mighty contest. Hear, my daughter;
Glory and Love with rival power contend
To usurp their empire o'er Achilles' heart.
This seeks to make it but the gentle seat
Of soft affections: THAT would banish all
But martial ardors: both alike unjust
In either claim. Declare, even thou, Ulysses,
What were our hero's praise, to breathe alone
Fury and wrath? And say, my Deidamia,
What were Achilles should he languish ever
In love's enfeebling cares? No, let him go
To where the trumpet's noble call invites him,
But let him go thy husband: to thy arms
Again returning grac'd with glorious wreaths;
Repose shall thus relieve the toils of honour,
The toils of honour dignify repose.

Ach.
What says my Deidamia? Speak. What says
The sage Ulysses?

Deid.
When a father wills,
No voice has Deidamia.

Ulys.
Greece, O! king,
Shall hear and shall applaud your wise decree.

Ach.
Then nothing more remains to crown our bliss.

Lyc.
Let now the bands, by either long desir'd,
Unite the illustrious pair, while Love and Glory
Henceforth are one, and join in lasting peace.

Chorus.
Behold, behold, ye happy pair!
Descending soft through yielding air,
Where Hymen shews his torch from far,
His purple veil expands.
Behold the God with smiles sustain
The links that frame the marriage chain,
For you, on Heaven's ethereal plain,
Prepar'd by heavenly hands.