University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Cinyras, Pereus.
Pe.
Behold me here, obedient to thy wishes.
I hope, oh king, the hour is not far distant
When with th' endearing epithet of father
I may accost thee ...

Cin.
Listen to me, Pereus.—
If thou well know thyself, thou canst not fail
To be convinced how much a partial father
Must be transported with exceeding joy
In th' expectation that his only daughter
Would find in thee a consort. Without doubt,
Had I myself been destined to select
A spouse for Myrrha, I had chosen thee
Among the many and illustrious rivals
That, with thyself, contended for her hand.
Thence thou thyself may'st judge how doubly dear
Thou wert to me when by herself elected.
Thou, in the judgment of impartial men,
In all pretensions wert unparagon'd;
But, in my judgment, more than for thy blood,
And thy hereditary realm, wert thou
Unparagon'd for other qualities
Intrinsically thine, whence thou must be,
Although a private man, eternally
Greater than any king ...

Pe.
Ah father! ... (I
E'en now exult to call thee by this name)
Father, my greatest, nay, my only value,
Consists in pleasing thee. I have presumed
To interrupt thee; pardon me; but I
Cannot, or ere I merit them, receive
From thee so many praises. To my heart
Thy speech will be a high encouragement
To make me that which thou believ'st me now,
Or wishest me to be. Thy son-in-law,
And Myrrha's consort, largely should I be
With every lofty quality endow'd:
And I accept from thee the augury
Of virtue.

Cin.
Ah, thou speakest as thou art!
And since thou art such, I shall dare to speak
To thee as to a son.—I clearly see
Thou lovest Myrrha with a genuine love;
And I should wrong thee most unworthily
Could I e'en doubt of this. But ... tell me, Pereus, ...
If my request is not too indiscreet,
Art thou as much beloved?

Pe.
... I ought to hide
Nothing from thee.—Ah, Myrrha would, methinks,
Love me again, and yet it seems she cannot.
I cherish'd once a hope of her regard,
And yet I hope t'obtain it; or, at least,
My flattering wishes still prolong the dream.
'Tis true, that, most inexplicably, she
Persists in her reserve. Thou, Cinyras,
Although thou be a father, still retainest
Thy youthful vigour, and rememberest love.
Know then, that evermore with trembling steps,
And as if by compulsion, she accosts me;
A deathly paleness o'er her countenance steals;
And her fine eyes towards me are never turn'd.
A few irresolute and broken words
She faulters out, involved in mortal coldness;
Her eyes, eternally suffused with tears,
She fixes on the ground; in speechless grief
Her soul is buried; a pale sickliness
Dims, not annihilates, her wond'rous charms:—
Behold her state. Yet of connubial rites
She speaks; and now thou would'st pronounce, that she
Desired those rites; now, that, far worse than death,
She dreaded them; now she herself assigns
The day for these, and now she puts it off.
If I enquire the reason of her grief,
Her lip denies it; but her countenance ...
Of agony expressive, and of death,
Proclaims incurable despair.—
Me she assures, and each returning day
Renews the assurance, that I am her choice;
She says not that she loves me; high of heart,
She knows not how to feign. I wish and fear
To hear from her the truth: I check my tears;
I burn, I languish, and I dare not speak.
Now from her faith, reluctantly bestow'd,
Would I myself release her; now again
I fain would die, since to resign her quite
I have no power; yet, unpossess'd her heart,
Her person would I not possess ... Alas! ...
I scarcely know whether I live or die.—
Thus, both oppress'd, and though, with different griefs,
Both with affliction equally weigh'd down,
We to the fatal day at last are come,
Th' irrevocable day which she herself
Hath chosen for our marriage ... Ah, were I
The only victim of so much distress!

Cin.
As much as she, dost thou excite my pity ...
Thy frank and fervid eloquence bespeaks
A soul humane and lofty: such a soul
Did I ascribe to thee: hence to thyself
I will not less ingenuously speak.—
I tremble for my child. I share with thee
A lover's grief; ah, prince! do thou too share
A father's grief with me. Ah, if she were
Unhappy by my means! ... 'Tis true, that none
Constrain'd her ... But yet, if timidity,
Or virgin bashfulness ... If finally
Myrrha should now capriciously repent! ...

Pe.
No more; I understand thee. To a lover,
Who loves as I do, canst thou represent
The beloved object wretched for his sake?
Could I, though innocently, deem myself
The origin of all her wretchedness,
And not expire with grief?—Ah, Myrrha, now
Pronounce on me, and on my destiny,
A final sentence; fearlessly pronounce it,
If Pereus' love be irksome; yet for this
Never shall I regret that I have loved thee.
Oh, could I make her joyful with my tears! ...
To me 'twould be a blessing e'en to die,
So that she might be happy.

Cin.
Pereus, who
Can hear thee without weeping? ... No, a heart
More faithful, more impassion'd than thine own,
There cannot be. Ah! as thou hast to me,
Could'st thou disclose it also to my daughter:
She could not hear thee, and refuse t'unfold
To thee with equal confidence her own.
I do not think that she repents her choice;
(Who, knowing thee, could do this?) but perchance
Thou may'st solicit from her heart the source
Of her conceal'd distress.—Behold, she comes;
I had already summon'd her. With her
I leave thee. To the interview of lovers
Fathers are ever a restraint. Now, prince,
Fully reveal to her thy lofty heart,
A heart by which all others must be sway'd.