University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—Another Street.
Enter Damon and Lucullus.
Luc.
O my dear lord, my master, and my friend,
The sight of you thus safe—

Damon.
Safe!

Luc.
For at least
A respite, my kind lord.

Damon.
No more, Lucullus.
Is my horse ready?

Luc.
Yes, the gallant grey
Of Anaxagoras you lately purchased.

Enter Calanthe.
Cal.
Hold sir!—Is what they tell me true?

Damon.
Calanthe,
At any time save this, thy voice would have
The power to stay me—Pr'ythee, let me pass—
Nor yet abridge me of that fleeting space
Given to my heart.

Cal.
Speak! have they said the truth?
Have you consented to put in the pledge
Of Pythias' life for your return?

Damon.
'Tis better
That I should say to her,—‘Hermion, I die!’
Than that another should hereafter tell
‘Damon is dead!’

Cal.
No! you would say to her,
‘Pythias has died for me’—even now the citizens
Cried in mine ear, ‘Calanthe, look to it!’

Damon.
And do you think I would betray him?

Cal.
Think of it?—
I give no thought upon it—Possibility,
Though it should weigh but the least part of a chance,
Is quite enough—Damon may let him die—
Ay, meanly live himself, and let him die!

Damon.
Calanthe, I'll not swear—When men lift up
Their hands unto the gods, it is to give
Assurance to a doubt: But to confirm
By any attestation the return
Of Damon unto Pythias, would profane
The sanctity of friendship.—Fare thee well—
Nay, cling not to me.

Cal.
So will Hermion cling—
But Damon will not so reject her.—
She will implore thee back to life again,
And her loud cries will pierce thy inmost breast,
And Pythias will be murder'd.

Damon.
I must unloose thy grasping.

Cal.
Mercy, Damon!

Damon.
Unwillingly I stay thy struggling hands—
Forgive me for't.

Cal.
Damon, have mercy on me!

Damon.
May the gods bless thee!

[Exeunt Damon and Lucullus.
Cal.
Damon, mercy, Damon!
He flies!—and there's a voice that from my heart,
As from the grave, cries out, that never more
He will return to Pythias.—Hermion—his child—
And his own selfish instinct—or some accident
May fall, and stay him back, and that will be
The axe to Pythias!—O, I will follow him—
I'll tell him that, and, like a drowning wretch,
Fasten about his neck, and cling to him!
But, ah!—he flies—his steed is on the wind!
My evil demon wings him, and he tramps
Already the wide distance!—Pythias,
The flowers in bridal mockery on my brow
Thus I rend off, and keep them for the grave!

Enter Dionysius disguised.
Dion.
Thy name's Calanthe, and thou art the bride
Of Pythias—is't not thus?

Cal.
What dost thou come
To say to me of Pythias?

Dion.
Art thou not
His bride?

Cal.
The marriage-temple was prepar'd,
The virgin's voices were sent up to Heaven,
When death did all at once
Rise up, and all that pomp did disappear,
And for the altar, I behold the tomb!—
He never will return.

Dion.
He will not.

Cal.
Ha!
Dost thou confirm my apprehensions?
They were black enough already—and thy smile—
It is the gloss upon the raven's plumes—
Thy smile is horrible!

Dion.
Calanthe, hear me.
The tyrant, Dionysius, has resolved
To intercept this Damon, and prevent
His coming back to Syracuse.

Cal.
O, gods!

Dion.
I am an inmate in the tyrant's house,
And learn'd his fell decree!

Cal.
Then, speed thee hence:
Mount thou the fleetest steed in Syracuse—
Pursue the unhappy Damon—tell him this;
I know he has a brave and generous nature,
Will not betray his friend! Go after him
And save my husband!

Dion.
I have found a way
To rescue him already: thou and Pythias
Shall fly from Syracuse.

Cal.
What! shall he 'scape
The tyrant's fangs?

Dion.
For ever!—But thou must
Follow my precept.

Cal.
I will obey you, sir,
And bless you!

Dion.
Then to Pythias come with me.

[Exeunt.