University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene—The Apartments of Adrastus.
Ada and Aspasia.
(Aspasia enters, after peeping through a secret door in the wall, and calls Ada, who follows.)
Aspasia.
Vacant, and silent all—fearless, advance.

Ada.
I would not here be seen.—Where is Adrastus?

Aspasia.
With the Prince Atys, in the King's apartment,
Earnestly engaged in joyous foretaste
Of the fulfilment of the Oracles,
Which give to Crœsus Asia's inner realms.

Ada.
And where is Aryenis?

Aspasia.
Gone to rest.
You seem but strange to these apartments, Princess,
Nor found with ease the spring that free'd the door.
Was it before unknown to you?

Ada.
This morn,
Atys, unthinkingly, betray'd the secret,
In anxious expectation of his friend,
To whom th' apartments are appointed. Thence
A private gallery leads to our range.
As there we whiled some idle time, the Prince,
In whom impatience overcame all caution,
Touch'd on the spring, and vanish'd thro' the wall:
But soon return'd. Unnoted, I observed
The means he used for his admittance—Hark!

(Goes to the spring door, and examines it.)
Aspasia.
No person comes—we are secure awhile.
Hath Atys bid good night?

Ada.
He comes again:—
But unapprized of what awaits his ear.
And now let 's in—my object is obtain'd
In being mistress of that spring—Yet stay—
See whither leads that open door.

Aspasia.
(Looking in)
—A couch,
Beneath a Tyrian canopy outspread,
Shows it prepared for sleep. A steady lamp
Burns on a golden tripod. On the couch
A handkerchief lies negligently left.

Ada.
A handkerchief! 'Tis an avenging charm!

It was observed by a friend, that the use of a handkerchief by Ada to work upon the feelings of Atys might bring to mind Othello's napkin. If so, I can only say that it was not in mine, and that it does not appear to me to be of importance enough to change it for a less obvious instrument.

The angry gods conspire to make it mine—
This shall its place supply—
(Exposes her handkerchief, goes in, and returns with another.)
Mother of Love!
I thank thee for this gift, the gift of vengeance!
There 's in this 'kerchief more of eloquence
Than any tongue in Attica can boast,
And it will speak most forcibly to Atys.
Away, away, Aspasia.

[Exeunt through the secret door.
Scene—The King's Apartment.
Crœsus, Philon, Atys, Adrastus, Orentes, Rhodius, &c.
Crœsus.
Truly, my friends, most prosperous our affairs!
And whether I the past survey, enjoy
The present, or anticipate the future,
Glad Time presents exuberance of joy,
The public glory, and domestic splendour.
O'er our luxuriant plains and shaded vales
Salubrious Tmolus sheds eternal health;
And our Pactolus rolls his golden grains,
In medicinal waters,

See the first Note.

to our hands.
All, all is health, wealth, victory, and love!
Then, let the snarling man of Athens boast
Athenian Tellus, and the Argive brothers,
Cleobis and Biton,

The names of the persons adduced by Solon, as happy.

happy in death,
While we the happiness of life enjoy,
Nor shrink from Fate, which oft our wisdom rules.

Philon.
Solon, my Liege, was not averse to joy;
Nor held he Crœsus' happiness at nought:
His doubt was of the fickle goddess, Fortune,
Profuse of smiles, but sudden in her frowns.

Crœsus.
Why meet them, Philon? Or why, good Adrastus,
Not combat with her woes, and dash them from us?

Atys.
My friend will combat with them, Sir.—Methinks,
Already they oppress him less. And now
Shall Lydian days, enforced with Beauty's smiles,
Complete the cure, and make him blest as I am.

Adrastus.
Kind Atys!

Crœsus.
Come, Boy, smile—give wing to Hope—
There's nothing you can ask that I'll refuse.

Adrastus.
Benignant Crœsus!—I will do my best.

Crœsus.
But do it soon, and be as Atys blest.
We'll have our fill of sports, and then to war,
To add new triumphs to the Lydian arms,
And make the Asian Continent our own.
To-morrow's chace will be but brief—By noon
The Boar will be through Sardis proudly borne;
And to complete the pleasures of the day,
We'll make libations large to Cybele.
Philon! direct the officer to raise
An altar 'fore the Eastern Portico;
Where, shielded from the ardent beams of Phebus,
Zephyrs shall fan our hunters with their wings.
And let the Corybantes join in dance,
Clashing their cymbals wild, as to the ground
We dash the gen'rous, undiluted wine.

Philon.
Your Highness' orders all shall be obey'd.

Crœsus.
Who hath e'er been among those Persian tribes,
Which gathering into form acquire dominion?

Rhodius.
So please your Highness! I have been among them;
And know those Persians well. Rough is their life;

The account here given of the Persians in the time of Crœsus, is nearly the words of Sardanis, a Lydian, addressed to Crœsus, versified.

Apparel they have none, save the fur skins
Of which they plunder their poor fellow-brutes:
Their lands but little owe to husbandry;
They feed just as they can, not as they would:
The grape they know not, water is their drink,
Their only drink, and figs, the food of swine,
A dainty held, forbid to vulgar palates.

Atys.
Far, far, ye gods! from Lydia keep these Persians!
Should they once get a taste of Lydian dainties,
By Hercules! they'd swarm the land like locusts:
Dislodge them then who could.—'Twere better, Sir,
Methinks, to leave them to their present diet,
Than raise them such invincible allies
As appetite and ease.—And, after all,
What can we take from those who nothing have?

Crœsus.
Extended empire, Sir—the world, my Son.
But, friends! of this hereafter—Night draws on:
'Tis time our hunters should repair to rest;
And so, good-night!—To-morrow, friends, we meet,
To pour libations, and to quaff the grape.

[Exit with Atys.
All go off severally, except
Adrastus and Orontes.
Orontes.
The King is ever jocund—full of hope,
As he were yet but in the spring of life.

Adrastus.
He hath its renovating source, a mind
Replete with virtue, unassail'd by woe.
Crœsus is great as well as blest, Orontes;
And good as great—And, should the gods e'er try him,
Would dignify adversity.

Which proved to be the case, when a captive to Cyrus.

Orontes.
His heart
Is noble—but it delights me most to see
Its eagerness in your behalf.

Adrastus.
My friend,
'Tis manifest that his benevolence
Would halt at nothing, that could bring me peace:—
The more behoves it me to care for his.

Orontes.
He all but begs you to accept his daughter.

Adrastus.
Oh!

Orontes.
Aryenis—

Adrastus.
Hear me, kind Orontes!
So much virtue with so much beauty join'd
Would renovate, the sickliest heart, and mine
Hath felt, and feels their power—I love—nay more—
I think that love would work the charm you wish,
And bring me by degrees to banish grief.
But I, alas! am doom'd, deliver'd over
To a Fury, and silent I must bear.
I cannot open Atys' eyes—I cannot
Poniard the man I love, whose zealous hand
Is ever pouring balm into my wound.
Ada to him may yet her heart incline;
Me she devotes—one way alone remains
To prop the hope new kindled in my breast:
To-morrow's hunt once o'er, my leave I'll take,
And for awhile to Sardis bid farewel.
I go—

Orontes.
But not to Ephesus, I trust.

Adrastus.
Orontes, no.—To Gordius and Celene—
So love directs—to expiate on the spot,
Inure me to the objects that appal,
Bless my dear father, and receive new life
From him who gave the first—then hither send,
And claim fair Aryenis for my bride—
Shall it be thus?

Orontes.
Oh! joyous, joyous words!
Gordius will then be happy—Adrastus
Will be happy—all Phrygia will be happy!

Adrastus.
And now, let 's in—'tis time for rest—perhaps
I'll hunt with better spirits than I thought—
Yet there is something heavy, heavy here.

[Exeunt.
Scene—Ada's Apartment.
Ada and Aspasia.
Ada.
In vain by pride you combat love, Aspasia!
Vengeance alone the mastery may gain.
Your counsel I respect, admire your virtue,
And would the gods had bless'd me with your calm!
How galls the yoke of disappointed love!
Who that could throw it off would bear its weight?
I know the folly, and despise myself;
Know the best vengeance were to conquer it,
And spurn the base deserter from my mind;
But the malignant god defies contempt.
Conquer I will—conquer I have—but how?
By withering the heart that scathed my own;
Making dishonour eat into its core.

Aspasia.
Both love and pity urge me to restrain
The raging passion that inflames your soul,
Since vengeance must recoil upon yourself.
Oh! yet reflect, or ere you strike the blow.
Already do the world respect his grief—
Your deed once known, they 'll raise a general cry,
Call thee infatuate, and lament his fate.

Ada.
And what imports to me that futile cry,
If satiated hate relieve this breast,
Which, unrevenged, with endless fury burns?
Virtue, or rather character 's his idol:—
To blast that character, to stamp him vile,
Fix him the scorn of Atys and of Crœsus,
Wring growing love from Aryenis' heart,
Make the good shun him, and the world condemn,
Is the fixt purpose of th' insulted Ada.

Aspasia.
How blind is rage!—I hear approaching steps.

Ada.
It is the Prince.—Expect me in my chamber.

[Exit Aspasia.
Enter Atys.
Atys.
Ada! the night is far advanced. Ere now
I had been bound in life-restoring slumbers,
But for the powerful charm that binds me ever,
When Crœsus smiles, and talks of happiness.
What buoyant spirits bless the dear old man!
Oh! may his stream of life flow ever thus!

Ada.
The purest stream may be contaminated,
And even joys become corrupt and choked,
Mingling with muddy currents of the soul.

Atys.
Yes, but with such my father never mingles.

Ada.
Clear-sighted men may sometimes be deceived.

Atys.
Speak not in riddles, Ada, I beseech you:
A soldier's ear loves a straight-forward speech.

Ada.
Be it not lost upon a soldier's ear—
Adrastus—

Atys.
Still Adrastus!

Ada.
Yes, Adrastus—
The muddy, foul, corrupt Adrastus—

Atys.
Ada!
Such words make tumult in a soldier's veins.
Prithee! unsay them, Love! He is my friend.

Ada.
And would be mine.

Atys.
That phrase insinuates still.
I'll take it in its plain and simple sense,
And plainly say, I would that you were his!
And if you love me—

Ada.
Why, let Love submit
To Friendship's higher claims. Be it so, my Lord—
Good night!

Atys.
Not so, Ada.—I'll hear the rest.
But speak direct, and let me know the whole.

Ada.
Direct! what means such insult, Prince? Direct!

Atys.
Be not offended—for you know my love.
By habit frank—but insult is beneath me.
There 's some mistake—Nay, Ada, I am sure—
Give me your hand—Deem better of Adrastus,
And hope to prove him worthy of your friendship.

Ada.
It is for those to deem who do not know;
It is for those to hope who only doubt:
But who can fashion thought in knowledge' spite,
Or dream of hope when once the die is cast?
Atys, you are deceived. Are you so frank
To deem all men, like you, be what they seem?
Have you ne'er met in life with specious villains,
All sanctity without, deceit within?
Who trick out Virtue in her best attire,
The showy means to gain their selfish ends?
Just such a villain is—

Atys.
Hold, Madam, hold!
That epithet must never meet his name.

Ada.
Silenced again! Direct I must not speak—
The whole you would not know—

Atys.
Princess, proceed.

Ada.
Nay, if my duty, Sir, offend, I'm dumb.
Think not I seek protection from my Lord.
Nor will I now proceed, save on condition
You promise to be master of yourself,
And make contempt, not anger, your revenge.

Atys.
Oh! 'tis a promise easy to be given:
Contempt, not anger, were the just revenge.

Ada.
When at my father's Court he whiled his days,
He ev'ry art essay'd to gain my love.
The King encouraged rather than opposed
His suit, leaving me mistress to decide.
No feverish passion biassing my mind,
I sought to know the youth who woo'd my hand:
On which his vanity pronounced success.
I let that pass, and gave him full career;
Till noted he became for low intrigue;
Injustice, falsehood, pride, and meannesses
Innumerable.
When, shock'd, I gently would dismiss his suit,
He seized my hand, and swore 'twas coyness; swore
That I loved him, and should alone be his.

Atys.
The picture 's overwrought—

Ada.
The picture 's just.
Forced he withdrew; but never was convinced,
So deeply rooted is his vanity.
Why shunn'd he, Sir, our nuptials? Grief, you say—
Then grief should teach him to command himself.
Why did he strive to hinder them?—He did?

Atys.
I own I thought him strenuous on that point:
But no such motive ever ruled his soul.
I've listen'd, Ada, to your angry tale,
And see the painful bias of your mind
Against my friend. With beauty such as yours
Virtue and gentleness should ever dwell,
As ornaments essential to its charm.
Yet, if offended Beauty stoop to rail,
'Tis privileged with lively rhetoric;
And I'll excuse it in my lovely wife.
Come, Ada, come! Adrastus has offended—
Pardon the past—he'll not offend again—
I hope to see him Aryenis' lord—

Ada.
Villain!

Atys.
By heaven! 'tis false—I think you crazed to say it:
Honour ne'er brighter shone than in his breast.

Ada.
Never lived greater villain—Now, Sir, know,
Save for your sister, here my lips were closed—
Beware!—'Tis not for her he'll loiter here.
Teach her to guard her heart, lest she repent—
Your unsuspecting nature is abused.
To-morrow's sport enjoyed, I prithee bear
This kerchief to your honourable friend.

Atys.
What may it mean?

Ada.
Dishonour.

Atys.
Where was 't found?

Ada.
No farther, Sir, than on this bosom press'd,
With hand more rude than ever honour used.

Atys.
Adrastus!

Ada.
He urged, my heart could never change, and tore
In sport a kerchief from my struggling grasp,
As a new pledge of future love.

Atys.
Adrastus!

Ada.
That pledge no doubt you will redeem.

Atys.
I will.

Ada.
Why stand you amazed? Why look as if—

Atys.
I will—

Ada.
What?

Atys.
Confound dishonour.

Ada.
But calm, and with no clash of words or arms—
I claim your promise to despise the man.

Atys.
Never, never, never—And so good night!

[Exit.
Ada.
What means he? Atys, return—My Lord! my Lord!
Hah! and is it thus? Is this the bridal power?
The sway of beauty, and the reign of love?
On thee shall vengeance turn. Once more I'll try
To win Adrastus to a Lover's flight:
Failing, to Crœsus I'll appeal—At least,
I'll blast the happiness I cannot share.

[Exit.
Scene—The Apartments of Adrastus.
Adrastus alone.
Adrastus.
Immortal gods! how dark are your decrees,
Where good and ill confusedly unite!
Which render justice seemingly a chance,
And virtue often but a sterile name!
Celestial Virtue! who pursue thy steps
Must look for rugged paths in this sad world;
Must weep and bleed, be tortured and endure:
Yet oft thy glowing rays thro' evils pierce,
Soften misfortune and sustain the soul:
Without thee, who could bear the stings of life?
In Fortune's beams foul Crime may rear his head,
But thou alone canst cheer the drooping breast.
Sole moderator of the power of Fate!
Oh! aid me, in my sad career, to bear,
And stifle feelings that would wound my friend!
Atys! (with surprise.)

Enter Atys.
I did not think to meet again,
Till roused by echo, eager for the chace.

Atys.
Nor I, my friend; but so some god decreed.
I could not sleep 'till I restored your kerchief—
I ask not where you left it, for I know.

Adrastus.
But I do not—'tis odd—yet matters not—
Except that you should bring it hither, Atys.

Atys.
I could not trust the message to another:
And scarce can utter it myself, Adrastus—
I have a wife whom much I wish to love—

Adrastus.
Whom much you love—

Atys.
I know not that.

Adrastus.
Not know?

Atys.
I did some minutes since; but am not sure
If all my love hath not been sponged away
By that same handkerchief.

Adrastus.
Oh! Atys! Atys!

Atys.
Tell me, Adrastus, have you one of Ada's?

Adrastus.
Can Atys ask that question of Adrastus?

Atys.
Ada has charms—Oh! start not, dear Adrastus,
Nor think those sounds impute disloyalty
To thee—
Tmolus shall, melting, sink into a lake,
Pactolus pile his limpid waters high,
And stand a liquid Caucasus, or ere
Atys degrade his soul to doubt Adrastus.
(Embrace.)
Ada has charms for me, my friend, and I,
Crœsus' own son, am willing to be happy—
But happy, how?—Not with disgrace—Ah! no.
Beauty and wit awhile intoxicate,
But constancy must give the zest to love.
I'm full of doubt—the feeling's new and painful—
I wake as from a sleep, and wondering trace,
In my brief wedlock, striking absences
Of Ada's mind—My friend!—she loves me not.

Adrastus.
(Aside.)
Oh! what a moment! (To him)
Prithee! think not so—
Lose not conviction of the love you prize—
Oh hold it fast, and Time may teem with proofs.

Atys.
You have no handkerchief of hers, you say?

Adrastus.
None, Atys, none—Shall I invoke the gods?

Atys.
For friendship's truth?

Adrastus.
Alas!

Atys.
But that, Adrastus,
How came it into Ada's room, my friend?

Adrastus.
'Tis hard to answer—Nay, I cannot answer—
And vain the effort to dissemble, Atys,
That well I know the Princess broods displeasure,
And holds me for her foe. This seems to prove,
She means to overwhelm me in her wrath.
How she obtain'd it is unknown to me,
Or where I left it—Stay—Is 't possible?
Methinks I left it on my bed—a moment—
These apartments may have been visited—

(Goes into the chamber.)
Atys.
Dear, dear Adrastus! noble-minded youth!

Adrastus
(within.)
Oh!
Re-enter Adrastus.
I cannot lie—I found it on my bed.

(Presenting Ada's handkerchief.)
Atys.
Sink not—nor add to my calamity
A proof that you can wrong your friend in thought,
By fearing I should doubt Adrastus' honour.

Adrastus.
My godlike Atys! Oh! this heart will burst!
'Tis swoln too full, and can expand no more.

Atys.
But be composed—bear up,—rest, rest upon me.
(Adrastus leans, weeping, on Atys.)
Art a soldier?

Adrastus.
(Recovering.)
'Tis not a soldier's wound—
Your generous friendship overcame me, Atys.
Let us not yield, my friend, to circumstances,
Nor sacrifice to passion better hopes—
For I had learn'd to hope, and was prepared
To talk of happiness, which now depends
On your concurrence in my heart's design.

Atys.
Say on—I'll hear—Clear, if you can, our way:
Make but my wife as lovely as I thought her,
And I shall owe my happiness to you.

Adrastus.
Consent to let me bear the blame of this,
As it is best I should.—A little time
Spent with yourself and Crœsus shall effect
All that your mind can wish, or love require.

Atys.
What could she mean? What cause for such revenge?
Or how explain the changes of these things?
How came this handkerchief disposed within?

Adrastus.
Explain I cannot—but I can account
For her resentment, and this dire revenge.
She thought her beauty slighted, and she knew
I had opposed her marriage with my friend:
Either enough to fire an ardent dame.
Ardour is not a fault, if under rule:
But rule the Princess never had been taught;
And therefore 'twas that I opposed your union:
Virtues she has, and you shall draw them forth.

Atys.
Beauty she has—we 'll think about her virtues.—
Now, of yourself—for, if she e'er redeem
This night's forfeit, 'twill be when you are happy—
The very thought has predisposed my mind.

Adrastus.
My heart still bleeds;—but, Atys, I do own
Your sister's charms have wrought some change, and if—

Atys.
Talk not of ifs—the lovely maid is yours—
'Tis Crœsus' wish; the gods themselves have will'd it;
Nor can you doubt that Aryenis loves you.

Adrastus.
My friend!

Atys.
My brother!—Now let 's think of rest,
For we have toils to undergo to—morrow.

Adrastus.
One favour yet remains.—As things now stand,
I would absent myself awhile from Sardis:
And 'tis but just I share my better state
With a kind father, who has shared my worse.—
After to-morrow's hunt I'm for Celene:
Retard me not, and gain the leave of Crœsus.

Atys.
Your very errand shall preclude delay:
And in your absence we will strive to impress
The rule of happiness, that wisest rule,
Upon poor Ada's mind. Good night!

[Exit.
Adrastus.
Good night!—
Oh! sacred friendship! powerful charm!
In thy pure stream corruption cannot flow,
And often evil is transform'd to good.
(Sighs, and muses.)
When uncheck'd passions sway the female breast,
On what enormities do women rush!
To what low means debase their troubled souls!—
But these are rare—The greater part are honest,
And blessings to the partners of their lot.
Many excel—and some are paragons!
Creatures almost divine! in whom unite
Softness of symmetry with strength of mind,
Alluring beauty with assuring truth,
All-cheering speech, and never cloying love—
And such a creature's image lies e'en here,
And combats with the form of Agathon
For full possession. Oh! my Agathon!
Not e'en her smiles can generate a charm
'Gainst that red cloud which o'er my memory hangs.
I'll now to bed.—

(As he turns to go into his chamber, Ada, who has entered by the secret door, appears before him.)
Adrastus and Ada.
Adrastus.
Heavens!

Ada.
Start not, Adrastus!
Once more to thee my agitated soul
Sues for release from ever-racking torture.

Adrastus.
Princess!

Ada.
First hear—my brain 's on fire, Adrastus,
And cannot long sustain this cruel flame.
I own I've done a wrong in plighting vows
Where my heart felt it never could be true.
The heart can love but once; all other loves,
However named, are slight and playful fires,
A sigh may kindle and a frown may quench:
But that which only once the breast may know
While life remains can never be extinguish'd.
Thou know'st my heart was yielded first to thee.
What tho' no tongue-tipp'd vows proclaim'd you mine!
Love look'd it from your eye, and smiled it from your lip.
Those looks, those smiles, were they not vows, Adrastus?
Why raise an inextinguishable flame,
And leave it to consume me? Still it burns:
And mad revenge, despair's alternative,
Is weak, compared, and vanishes before it.—
Come, banish grief, forego all other passions,
And fly with me—The deed is well exampled.
My father 's old;—in Caria we may reign:
Or, lead me to some desert isle, far off;
Where, of thy heart secure, I'll glorious live,
Nor change it for the empire of the world,
Supreme in bliss to see and love thee there.
Soon will resentment for the past expire—
Say but the word and I forget it all.
E'en now I am not angry—speak, Adrastus.

Adrastus.
Oh! thou hast blasted all remaining hope!
Yet will I not, with harsh reproach, provoke
New anger in thy agitated breast,
Since I, however undesign'd, am still
The unhappy cause of all your woe.
Nor will I now attempt, with argument,
To stem the torrent of delirious fancy;
But only pray you to take time—

Ada.
To take time
Were to lose time—Adrastus, no—this night
Our fate must be decided.—Ay, this night
Or hope must be new lighted in my soul,
Or my resolve be executed.—Say!
Canst thou on Ada yet bestow thy heart?

Adrastus.
Wretch that I am! I've none I can bestow.

Ada.
You own you love another, then?

Adrastus.
Oh! Princess!

Ada.
Well!—I consent—but first I stipulate,
You do relieve this tortured heart—Behold!
Stand off—

(Shows a dagger.)
Adrastus.
On my knees—

Ada.
Rise! approach, and take it—
Stop there—You 'll quickly plunge it in this breast?

Adrastus.
But give it me—

Ada.
You 'll do 't?

Adrastus.
Trust me—

Ada.
Swear!
Not swear? Have you no oath that you can break?
Not swear!—I know thee better than to trust thee—
Nor is it meet that I should die alone—
We die together—

(Attempts to stab him, he secures the dagger.)
Adrastus.
Madness! Madness! Oh!

Ada.
Scorner! give me the dagger—

Adrastus.
Ada!

Ada.
Ay—Ada is my name.

(Wildly.)
Adrastus.
This agony—hear—
Oh hear—resume your mind—be noble, Ada!
These pangs—hear me, I pray—awake a sense—
Believe me, it is full of tenderness—

Ada.
Sir! You may keep the steel—I scorn to die—
Love and self-murder is a tale for children.
There is a loftier passion of the soul,
Now hungering for a godlike feast—Revenge!
Revenge more dainty than a foolish murder.
You think me mad—not I—a heated brain
Subjects our nerves to foolish pranks, but madness
Knows not the thing it does—I am not mad.

Adrastus.
Oh! Ada! Spare me—spare yourself—

Ada.
Speak out!
Spare Aryenis—spare my love.—Ay, Sir!
We 'll spare our loves another day—and then—
(A slight wild laugh.)
Why then—Good night, said Atys—and Good night,
Say I.—To-morrow, Sir, will tell you more.

(Exit haughtily and wildly.)
(Adrastus follows her to the secret door, returns musing, and sighs, looking at the dagger as he goes into his chamber.)
Adrastus.
Oh!