EPILOGUE,

Sosib.And what have you determined?Cas.He shall die.Sosib.A wholesome resolution. Have you fixedThe time?Cas.He daily dies, by hours and moments;All vital nourishment but air is wanting.Three rising days and two descending nightsHave changed the face of heaven by turns,But brought no kind vicissitude to him;His state is still the same, with hunger pinched,Waiting the slow approaches of his death;Which, halting onwards, as his life goes back,Still gains upon his ground.Sosib.But ere fate reach him,The mercy of the king may interpose.You have the signet?Cas.Yes, in your despite.Sosib.Be not displeased,—suppose he should escape?Cas.Suppose he should have wings: impossible!Sosib.Yet, keepers have been bribed. To whom can PtolemyImpute that crime, but you?Cas.He may; but let him if he dares.—Come, statesman, do not shuffle in your pace;You would expose me to the people's hatred,By hurrying on this act of violence:You know a little thing provokes the crowdAgainst a mistress; she's the public mark:Therefore content yourself; I will be safe,Nor shall the prisoner die a speedier death,Than what my doom decreed; unless the kingReverse his orders, by my messenger.Sosib.May I presume to ask you, whom you sent?Cas.Thy son, unknown to thee; for so I charged him;And this the promised hour of his return.—Nay, wonder not;I chose him with design, that, whatsoe'erThe king ordains, you both should share the event,And stand or fall with me. Ponder on that, and leave me!Sosib.[Aside.]What can she mean? She neither kills, nor saves.[ExitSosibius.Cas.Now tell me, heart, now answer for thyself!What wilt thou do, and what dost thou desire?—His life? No, he's ungrateful; or, his death?I tremble at that word.—What then? His love!—His love! my heart. What! by restraint and famine?Are these the means to compass thy design?—Revenge! My hand's so soft, his heart so hard,The blow recoils, and hurts me while I strike.Like the mad viper, scourged into a rage,I shoot into myself my fatal sting.Enter Mariner.Mar.The ship is ready, when you please to sail,And waits but your command: The wind stands fair.Cas.Be secret, and attend my farther pleasure.—[Gives him a Purse, and exit Mariner.So; this was time well managed: In three daysTo hire a vessel, put my wealth on board,Send off the observing son, and fool the father.—See him I will, to sound his last resolves,If love can soften him, or fear can bow.If both should fail, the ungrateful wretch shall findRage has no bounds in slighted womankind.[Exit.

Sosib.And what have you determined?

Cas.He shall die.

Sosib.A wholesome resolution. Have you fixedThe time?

Sosib.A wholesome resolution. Have you fixed

The time?

Cas.He daily dies, by hours and moments;All vital nourishment but air is wanting.Three rising days and two descending nightsHave changed the face of heaven by turns,But brought no kind vicissitude to him;His state is still the same, with hunger pinched,Waiting the slow approaches of his death;Which, halting onwards, as his life goes back,Still gains upon his ground.

Cas.He daily dies, by hours and moments;

All vital nourishment but air is wanting.

Three rising days and two descending nights

Have changed the face of heaven by turns,

But brought no kind vicissitude to him;

His state is still the same, with hunger pinched,

Waiting the slow approaches of his death;

Which, halting onwards, as his life goes back,

Still gains upon his ground.

Sosib.But ere fate reach him,The mercy of the king may interpose.You have the signet?

Sosib.But ere fate reach him,

The mercy of the king may interpose.

You have the signet?

Cas.Yes, in your despite.

Sosib.Be not displeased,—suppose he should escape?

Cas.Suppose he should have wings: impossible!

Sosib.Yet, keepers have been bribed. To whom can PtolemyImpute that crime, but you?

Sosib.Yet, keepers have been bribed. To whom can Ptolemy

Impute that crime, but you?

Cas.He may; but let him if he dares.—Come, statesman, do not shuffle in your pace;You would expose me to the people's hatred,By hurrying on this act of violence:You know a little thing provokes the crowdAgainst a mistress; she's the public mark:Therefore content yourself; I will be safe,Nor shall the prisoner die a speedier death,Than what my doom decreed; unless the kingReverse his orders, by my messenger.

Cas.He may; but let him if he dares.—

Come, statesman, do not shuffle in your pace;

You would expose me to the people's hatred,

By hurrying on this act of violence:

You know a little thing provokes the crowd

Against a mistress; she's the public mark:

Therefore content yourself; I will be safe,

Nor shall the prisoner die a speedier death,

Than what my doom decreed; unless the king

Reverse his orders, by my messenger.

Sosib.May I presume to ask you, whom you sent?

Cas.Thy son, unknown to thee; for so I charged him;And this the promised hour of his return.—Nay, wonder not;I chose him with design, that, whatsoe'erThe king ordains, you both should share the event,And stand or fall with me. Ponder on that, and leave me!

Cas.Thy son, unknown to thee; for so I charged him;

And this the promised hour of his return.—Nay, wonder not;

I chose him with design, that, whatsoe'er

The king ordains, you both should share the event,

And stand or fall with me. Ponder on that, and leave me!

Sosib.[Aside.]What can she mean? She neither kills, nor saves.[ExitSosibius.

Sosib.[Aside.]What can she mean? She neither kills, nor saves.

[ExitSosibius.

Cas.Now tell me, heart, now answer for thyself!What wilt thou do, and what dost thou desire?—His life? No, he's ungrateful; or, his death?I tremble at that word.—What then? His love!—His love! my heart. What! by restraint and famine?Are these the means to compass thy design?—Revenge! My hand's so soft, his heart so hard,The blow recoils, and hurts me while I strike.Like the mad viper, scourged into a rage,I shoot into myself my fatal sting.

Cas.Now tell me, heart, now answer for thyself!

What wilt thou do, and what dost thou desire?—

His life? No, he's ungrateful; or, his death?

I tremble at that word.—What then? His love!—

His love! my heart. What! by restraint and famine?

Are these the means to compass thy design?—

Revenge! My hand's so soft, his heart so hard,

The blow recoils, and hurts me while I strike.

Like the mad viper, scourged into a rage,

I shoot into myself my fatal sting.

Enter Mariner.

Mar.The ship is ready, when you please to sail,And waits but your command: The wind stands fair.

Mar.The ship is ready, when you please to sail,

And waits but your command: The wind stands fair.

Cas.Be secret, and attend my farther pleasure.—[Gives him a Purse, and exit Mariner.So; this was time well managed: In three daysTo hire a vessel, put my wealth on board,Send off the observing son, and fool the father.—See him I will, to sound his last resolves,If love can soften him, or fear can bow.If both should fail, the ungrateful wretch shall findRage has no bounds in slighted womankind.[Exit.

Cas.Be secret, and attend my farther pleasure.—

[Gives him a Purse, and exit Mariner.

So; this was time well managed: In three days

To hire a vessel, put my wealth on board,

Send off the observing son, and fool the father.—

See him I will, to sound his last resolves,

If love can soften him, or fear can bow.

If both should fail, the ungrateful wretch shall find

Rage has no bounds in slighted womankind.[Exit.

EnterCleomenes.

Cleom.No food, and this the third arising sun!But what have I to do with telling suns,And measuring time, that runs no more for me?Yet sure the gods are good: I would think so,If they would give me leave;But virtue in distress, and vice in triumph,Make atheists of mankind.—EnterCratesiclea.What comfort, mother?Crat.A soul, not conscious to itself of ill,Undaunted courage, and a master mind;No comfort else but death,Who, like a lazy master, stands aloof,And leaves his work to the slow hands of famine.Cleom.All I would ask of heaven,Is, but to die alone, a single ruin;But to die o'er and o'er, in each of you,With my own hunger pinched, but pierced with yours!Crat.Grieve not for me.Cleom.What! not for you, my mother?I'm strangely tempted to blaspheme the gods,For giving me so good, so kind a parent;And this is my return, to cause her death.Crat.Peace! your misfortunes cause it, not your fault.EnterCleora.Cleom.What! my Cleora?I stretched my bounds as far as I could go,To shun the sight of what I cannot help;A flower withering on the stalk, for wantOf nourishment from earth, and showers from heaven,All I can give thee is but rain of eyes.[Wiping his Eyes.Cleor.Alas! I have not wherewithal to weep;My eyes grow dim, and, stiffened up with drought,Can hardly roll, and walk their feeble round.Indeed I am faint.Crat.And so am I, heaven knows! However,[Aside.In pity of them both, I keep it secret;Nor shall he see me fall.[ExitCrat.Cleom.How does your helpless infant?Cleor.It wants the breast, its kindly nourishment;And I have none to give from these dry cisterns,Which, unsupplied themselves, can yield no more.It pulled, and pulled but now, but nothing came:At last it drew so hard, that the blood followed;And that red milk I found upon its lips,Which made me swoon with fear.Cleom.Go in and rest thee,And hush the child asleep.—[ExitCleora.Look down, ye gods!Look, Hercules, thou author of my race,And jog thy father, Jove, that he may lookOn his neglected work of humankind!Tell him, I do not curse him; but devotionWill cool in after-times, if none but good men suffer.—What! another increase of grief?EnterCleonidas.Cleon.O father!Cleom.Why dost thou call me by so kind a name?A father! that implies presiding care;Cheerful to give; willing himself to wantWhate'er thy needs require.Cleon.A little food!Have you none, father? One poor hungry morsel;Or give me leave to die, as I desired;For, without your consent, heaven knows, I dare not.Cleom.I pr'ythee stay a little:—I am lothTo say hard things of heaven!Cleon.But what if heavenWill do hard things, must not hard things be said?You've often told me, that the souls of kingsAre made above the rest of human race;Have they not fortunes fitted for those souls?Did ever king die starved?Cleom.I know not that;Yet still be firm in this,—The gods are good,Though thou and I may perish.Cleon.Indeed, I know not,That ever I offended heaven in thought;I always said my prayers.Cleom.Thou didst thy duty.Cleon.And yet you lost the battle, when I prayed.Cleom.'Twas in the Fates I should: but hold thee there;The rest is all unfathomable depth.This we well know, that, if there be a blissBeyond this present life, 'tis purchased here,And virtue is its price.Cleon.But are you sureOur souls shall be immortal?Cleom.Why that question?Cleon.Because I find, that, now my body starves,My soul decays. I think not as I did;My head goes round; and now you swim before me.Methinks my soul is like a flame unfedWith oil, that dances up and down the lamp,But must expire ere long.Cleom.I pr'ythee try to hold it, while thou canst.Cleon.I would obey you,As I have always done, but I am faint;And when you please to let me die, I'll thank you.Cleom.Thou shall have food; I promise thee, thou shalt.Cleon.Then you shall promise to have food for yourself too;For, if you have it not, I would refuse to eat;Nay, I would chuse to die, that you might feed on me.Cleom.Mark, heaven, his filial love!And if a family of such as theseMust perish thus, your model is destroyed,By which you made good men.EnterPantheus,hastily.Panth.Be cheerful, sir, the gods have sent us food.Cleom.They tried me of the longest; but by whom?Panth.Go in and see.Cleon.Good father, do not stay to ask, but go.Cleom.Go thou; thy youth calls fiercer than my age.Cleon.But then make haste, and come to take your part:Hunger may make me impious, to eat all,And leave you last to starve.[ExitCleonidas.Panth.Sir, will you go?Cleom.I know not; I am half seas o'er to death;And, since I must die once, I would be lothTo make a double work of what's half finished;Unless I could be sure the gods would stillRenew these miracles.[44]—Who brought this food?Panth.He's here that can resolve you.[ExitPantheus.EnterCleanthes,with a Sword in his Hand.Cleom.How darest thou come again within my sight?Thou art,—but 'tis no matter what thou art.I'll not consider thee so far to thinkThee worth reproach.—Away, away, Egyptian!That's all the name that's left thee.Clean.Such I appear indeed.Cleom.Why then for once, that which thou seem'st, thou art.—Begone!Clean.Oh I have been too long away!Cleom.Too soon thou art returned,To triumph o'er my fate.Clean.Forgive me, that I seemed your foe.Cleom.Forgive me, heaven, for thinking thee my friend.—No more; 'tis loss of time to talk.Clean.Indeed it is,When hunger calls so loud for sustenance.But whether friend or foe, 'tis food I bring.Cleom.'Tis poison; and my mother, and my wife,And my poor famished boy, are eating death.Thou would'st not have me think, that thou repent'st?Clean.Heaven knows, I do not!Cleom.Well said, man! Go on; and be not bashful,To own the merits of thy wickedness.Clean.What need has innocence of a repentance?Cleom.Shuffling again! Pr'ythee, be of a piece.A little steadiness becomes a villain.Clean.Oh, friend!—for yet I dare to call you so;Which, if I were a villain, sure I durst not,—Hear me, or kill me!Cleom.So, by heaven, I would,For thy profaning friendship's holy name;But, for thou see'st no justice hanging here,On this bare side, thou talk'st secure of vengeance.Clean.Then, if you had a sword, my death's resolved?Cleom.Thy conscience answers thee.Clean.Without more evidence than bare surmise;At most, appearance of a crime unproved;And, while unproved, uncertain.Cleom.Traitor, no more! 'tis fulsome.Clean.Take the sword.[Throws it to him.Cleom.I thank thee; draw thy own.[Takes it up.Clean.No; take that too.[Draws his, and offers it.Cleom.Fool! would'st thou die without defence?Clean.I would not:But you forbade me to defend myself,Then, when you would not hear me.Cleom.Can falsehood have a better argument,Than force for its defence? Trust to that topic,And bear thee like a man.Clean.I think, I do.Cleom.What kind of man is that, who dares not fight?Clean.The man, who dares not when his honour calls,Is what you mean, but what I never was;For honour never summons without reason.Force is the law of brutes: the dumb creation,Where words and reason want, appeal to might.I thought a king, and, what you boast, a Spartan,Might have known this, without the Egyptian's telling.Cleom.Come, come; thou dar'st not fight.Clean.By heaven, I dare!But first my honour must be justified,If you dare be my judge;For, in this crude and indigested quarrel,If I should fall unheard, you kill your friend,The man, who loved you best, and holds you dearest;And should you perish in the unjust attempt,The sword, that slew you, should revenge your death;For I should soon o'ertake you in the way,To quit myself before you reached the shades,And told your tale to Minos.Cleom.Then I must hear; but swear, swear first, I charge thee,That, when I have pronounced, thou wilt no moreProlong thy prattle with some new excuse;And pr'ythee cut it short, because I faint,And long to kill thee first—Oh, I am going!A rising vapour rumbles in my brains,I hear my words far off:—stand, stand, thou traitor,And swim not thus before me;—'tis too late;[Puts the Point upon the Ground, once or twice; leans on it, and staggers.And I fall unrevenged.—[Offers to run at him, and is falling.Clean.What ho, Pantheus![Runs to him, and takes him in his arms.The best of men is dying in my arms,And I want power to save him.EnterPantheus.Panth.O heavens! what means this direful object?Clean.Ask not, with unassisting pity; bow him forward.Rub his numbed temples, while I wipe the sweatFrom his cold clammy face.Panth.His mounting heartBounces against my hands, as if it wouldThrust off his manly soul.Clean.Wrench ope his mouth,While I infuse these sovereign drops, whose powerWill soon recall his wandered sense—[He instills somewhat out of a Vial into his Mouth.He stirs,And stretches now, and seems to essay his limbs.Cleom.Where am I?[Standing a while; they support him.Clean.In his arms, who died with you,And, now you live, revives.Cleom.Art thou Pantheus?Panth.Believe your eyes, I am.Cleom.Speak then, and truly, (for I trust not him,)Who brought me back to life?Panth.Who, but he, who was left single with you,Who caught you, falling, in his faithful arms;And, not alone sufficient to restore you,Called loud for my assistance.I found him, propping you with trembling hands;His eyes so hagard, I could scarce distinguishWho was the living friend, and who the dead.Cleom.All this, Cleanthes! This, what this Cleanthes?Panth.Yes, your Cleanthes.Clean.Your suspected friend,Much wronged, but ever faithful.Cleom.Art thou sureI live? Or am I in the regions of the dead,And hear the fables there, myself a fable?Panth.Go in, and see your chearful familyEating his bread, brought in their last distress;And, with a good mistaking piety,First blessing him, then heaven.Cleom.When I hear this, I have no need of food;I am restored without it.Clean.Then, now hear me;How I was forced into this seeming falsehood,To save myself, the only means remainingTo save the man I love beyond myself,And gain a needful credit with Cassandra:And yet even then deceived, and sent far offFor three long days, unknowing of your wants,Not thinking she, who loved, could use you thus.By famishment to——Cleom.O, no more! no more!For now I understand, ere thou canst speak it half:To thee I owed the seizing of my sword,Lest I should fall by odds; my wife's return,All, all to thee; and thou art more than all.Canst thou forgive me? Canst thou, my Cleanthes?Can I deserve thus to grow here once more?[Embracing him.Let me embrace myself quite into thee.Clean.Come, come as fiercely as thou wilt, I meet thee;[EmbracesCleom.I close within thee, and am thou again.Panth.Why, this is as it should be.Cleom.I could not thus have taken to the deathAnother's falsehood, but thine, only thine;For infinitely, infinitely loving,'Twas a wide gap thou mad'st within my bosom,And as my soul rent from me.Clean.But thy hunger!This violent transport of my reconcilementMakes me forget thy wants; when I embraced thee,Thy spungy body dwindled in my arms,And, like a ghost, fled from me.Cleom.I could eat—[Going in.Now my first appetite of love is served;And that was much the keenest: Let us in,For life looks lovely now, and worth preserving.Clean.Not that way, friend;It leads you to the women, and the boy.Cleom.And why must I avoid those tender blessings?Clean.Even such because they are, you must avoid them.For I must tell you, friend, you have but timeTo snatch a hasty morsel, and away:Nothing of manhood must be clogged, or softened,With womanish sighs and tears, and kind adieus,And those ill-timed remorses of good nature,When your whole soul is needful.Panth.You tell us wonders!Clean.At the king's return,Which daily we expect, your death's resolved.This hour's your own; take it, and tempt your fortuneSome few brave friends I hope to add;If not, all Egypt's numbered in myself.Cleom.I'm all on fire.—Now for a lucky pullAt fate's last lottery!I long to see the colour, white or black:That's the gods' work; and if I fall their shame,Let them ne'er think of making heroes more,If cowards must prevail.Panth.The fewer hands,The fewer partners in the share of honour.Cleom.Come, my Pantheus;—lead, my best Cleanthes!We three to all the world.Clean.Magas, and liberty, let be the word:Magas is loved, and liberty desired.A short refection waits at the lieutenant's,That honest friend, who sent you back your wife.We'll drink a bowl of wine, and pour the rest,Not to the dog Anubis, but to Jove,The freer and avenger.[Exeunt.EnterCratesiclea,Cleora,Cleonidas.Cleor.Gone, and without taking leave!Crat.The better.He bated me the forms, and you the fondness.Cleon.Pantheus, too, and he, who brought the food,The brave Egyptian, vanished altogether.Cleor.Oh, my foreboding soul! he's gone to death!And that Cleanthes, whom thou call'st the brave,Has basely trained him to his destruction!Crat.Suspect him not; when fate was in his power,And by a method so secure as famine,To save us then, shows he had little needTo trick my son to death.I have a better prospect of the event.Cleor.Dear mother! comfort me, and tell your thoughts;For I see nothing but a gathering tempest,Horror on horror, to the end of heaven!Crat.No, no; you are not of a soul to bearThe mighty good and ill, that meet midway,As from two goals; and which comes first upon us,Fate only knows.Cleon.Then speak to me, for I can stand the shock;Like a young plant, that fastens in a storm,And deeper drives the root.Crat.Thy soul's too strong; thy body yet too weak,To bear the crush. Be still, and wait thy doom.[A cry within:Liberty, liberty! Magas, Magas!To arms for Magas, and for liberty!Cleon.What noble sound was that, so smart and vigorous,A soul in every word?Crat.Why, that was it,I thought was doing; but I durst not tell,Till now it shows itself.The work's begun, my boy; the work's begun;There was thy father in that warlike shout,Stemming the tide of Egypt.Cleor.O comfort me, my husband's mother! say,My lord may live and conquer!Crat.Possibly;But still make sure of death; trust we to that,As to our last reserve.Cleor.Alas! I dare not die.Crat.Come, come, you dare:Do not belye your courage.Cleor.Heaven help me, I have none.Crat.Then dare you be a slave to base Egyptians?For that must be, if you outlive your husband.Cleor.I think, I durst, to save myself from death.Crat.Then, as a slave, you durst be ravished too?Cleor.The Gods forbid!Crat.The Gods cannot forbid itBy any way but death.Cleor.Then I dare die.Crat.I told you so; you did not know your virtue.Poor trembling thing, I'll warm thee in my bosom,And make thee take death kindly.[Another Shout within—Liberty and Magas!Cleon.What must become of me?Crat.More trouble yet about this paltry being?For shame, no more such qualms!Cleon.No more such vile mistakes! I would die warm,And not in women's company, but men's.Whether some god inspires me to this act,Or fate inevitably calls me on,I will not, cannot stay:But, as a generous, unfleshed hound, that hearsFrom far the hunters' horn and chearful cry,So will I haste; and, by the music led,Come up with death or honour.[Exit.Cleor.Stop him, dear mother; he may comfort us,But cannot help his father.Crat.The hero's blood is not to be controuled;Even in a child 'tis madly masterful.But wait we patient with our petty stakes,Which on those greater gamesters must depend;For, as they throw, our little lots must follow,Like sweepings of their heap.[Crat.andCleorago in. Trumpets; a Shout within—Liberty, Liberty, and Magas!EnterCleomenes,Cleanthes,Pantheus,followed by some few Egyptians.Cleom.What, is this populous city turned a desert?The cry of "Liberty" runs on before us,And yet none appears!By Hercules, we drive them through their town:They dare not stay to welcome their deliverers.Clean.The cowards are afraid of what they wish;And, could they be their own, they would be ours.Cleom.They're gone; we talk to houses and to walls.Panth.Not so; I see some peeping from their doors.—What are you? friends, or foes?Four Egyptians appear, peeping from the opposite Entrances of the Stage.1 Egypt.Friends, friends; all honest men,And hearty to the cause.Clean.Explain what cause; and give the general cry.1 and 2 Egypt.Liberty and Magas.Cleom.[In their Tone.]Liberty and Magas!The cowards whisper liberty so softly,As if they were afraid the gods would hear it,And take them at their word.1 Egypt.No, friend: We vulgar never fear thegods; but we whisper, for fear our o'erthwartneighbours should hear us cry, Liberty, and betrayus to the government.Clean.Of what side are you there?[To the opposite Egyptian.3 Egypt.That's according as you succeed: of your side hitherto.Panth.If you are men, come join with us.4 Egypt.You are too few for us to join with you; but get the greater party of your side, and we'll be sure to help the common cry.Cleom.Dare you do nothing to assert your freedom?3 Egypt.Yes,—we'll pray devoutly for you.Clean.The brave pray with their swords; that's a man's part.4 Egypt.Praying with our swords, the law calls fighting; and fighting is bloodshed; and bloodshed is hanging; and hanging is the part of a dog, and not of a man, in my opinion.1 Egypt.Every one for himself.[Egyptian Trumpets within.The government is a coming.[They shrink back in a Fright, and clap the Doors.Clean.Run! couch, you cowards, to your tyrant lords.A dog you worship, and partake his nature;A race of speaking spaniels.Panth.Let them go; we'll do our work without them.Clean.The comfort is, our foes are like our friends;Holiday heroes, drawn out once a month,At public charge, to eat, and to be drunk;Mere mouths of war.EnterSosibiusandCœnus,at the Head of many Egyptians: They, who spoke before, bolt out of their Doors, and join with them.Sosib.'Twas what I always feared,—even when I saved thee,—To find thee thus engaged among my foes:But yet, submit; and I can yet forgive thee.Consider,—for 'tis all I've time to say,—Thou fight'st against thy father.Clean.Against my father's cause, but not my father:If you would needs become yourself a slave,And get me such, I must redeem us both,And will, or perish in the brave attempt.Sosib.Withdraw thyself from ruin, I command thee.Clean.Command I cannot; but I beg you, sir,Engage not for an arbitrary power,That odious weight upon a free-born soul.Sosib.This is too much.—Fall on, but spare my son.EnterCassandra,attended.Cas.Sosibius, hold! Withdraw your men to distance.You know this signet: Obey your king in me.[Shews the Signet.Sosib.Never more gladly; though my son's a rebel,Yet nature works to save him.Cas.Then rather than he should untimely fall,[Cœnusdraws offSosibius'sMen.I would forgive the rest, and offer lifeEven to that fugitive, if he please to treat.Cleom.Be short; and, if you can, for once, sincere.Cas.What can you hope from this unequal fight,Where numbers rise from every foe you kill,And grow from their defeat?Cleom.We come resolved;And to die killing, is a kind of conquest.Cas.But are not life and freedom worth accepting,When offered; and, with such conditions too,As make them both more pleasing? Your friend's safety,Your son, your mother, and that only sheWho loves you best, for your companion home:—You know what she I mean.[Aside to him.Cleom.No private parley;[Stepping back.Spartans do all in public.Clean.We know your reasons for these secret whispers;And to your infamy—Cleom.[Aside to him.]Peace, peace, my friend.No injuries from women can provokeA man of honour to expose their fame.—Madam, we understand each other well:My son, my mother, and my wife restored,'Tis peace; if not, 'tis war.Sosib.A fair proposal: Be it peace.Cas.No, fool! 'tis war.—Know, heavy hero, know,I gained this time for my secure revenge;To seize thy wife and mother: and, to stab theeOn both sides of thy heart, they're gone to die,To make thy death more painful. Farewell, traitor!And thank thyself, not me.[Ex.Cas.andSosib.Cleom.Revenge, revenge,And speedy death, or conquest!—Hold, Cleanthes!EnterCleonicas.Poor boy!By heaven, I'm pleased to see thee safe this moment,Though I expect the next to lose thee.—Guard him,Cleanthes: Set him safe behind the front.Clean.Come, sir, you are now my charge.Cleon.The gods forbidThat I should seek this danger, and not share it.—[ToCleon.]Forgive me, sir, that once I disobey you,To prove myself your son; living, or dying,I'll not be less than man.Cleom.Oh! I could chide thee;But there's no time for love and anger both.Fight by my side; and heaven protect thy courage.[Cleomenes,Cleanthes,Cleonidas,and their Party go off the Stage, to fight the Egyptians. Trumpets, Drums, Shouts, and Clashings within.Re-enter both Parties; the Egyptians first, driven byCleomenes;Pantheusready to killSosibius,as having him down:Cleanthesruns to him and interposes.Clean.Pantheus, hold; or turn thy sword on me.Panth.[ToSosib.]Rise, sir; and thank your son.Clean.[ToPanth.]Pursue the foes: I have no joy of conquest,Till I have set my father safe.Sosib.The gods reward thy pious care.[Cleanthesleads off his Father; whilePantheusfollowsCleomenes:The Egyptians are driven to the bottom of the Stage: They make a wheeling Fight; still retiring beforethe Spartans:Cleomenesadvances eagerly after the Egyptians, and, withPantheus,drives them off:Cleonidasis left behind: So isCœnus,who had skulked.Cœnus.This was well watched: The boy is left unguarded.[Thrusts atCleon.behind.Cleon.Oh! I am slain by treason!Revenge me, royal father.Re-enterCleomenes.Cleom.'Twas sure his voice:—[Sees him on the ground.Too sure!—Pity and rageDistract my soul: But rage will first be served.[Runs atCœnus,and kills him.There's justice for myself, and for my son!—Look up, sweet boy,And tell me that thou livest.Cleon.Fain I would live,To comfort you! I bleed, and am ashamedTo say I faint, and call myself your son.—O traitor Cœnus! What's become of him?Cleom.Look, there he lies.Cleon.I am glad on't:—Forgive me, heaven: I hope 'tis no offenceTo say I am glad, because he killed me basely.—Still I grow fainter: Hold me, hold me, father.Cleom.Chear up, and thou shalt live.Cleon.No; I am just dying.Cleom.What shall I lose?Cleon.A boy; that's all. I might have lived to manhood;But once I must have died.Cleom.But not before thy father.Cleon.Nay, then you envy me, that I'm first happy.I go; and, when you come, pray find me out,And own me for your son![Dies.Cleom.There went his soul!—Fate, thou hast done thy worst,And all thou canst henceforth is but mean slaughter,The gleanings of this harvest.EnterPantheus.Panth.Sir, you're well found. Our enemies are fled:I left our men pursuing, and made hasteTo bring this joyful news.Cleom.Look there, and, if thou darest, now give me joy.Panth.Enough: you've stopped my mouth.—What? Cœnus killed?I ask no questions then of who killed who;The bodies tell their story as they lie.Haste, and revenge!Cleom.Where are our enemies?Panth.Sculking, dispersed in garrets, and in cellars.EnterCleanthes.Cleom.Not worth the seeking. Are these fit to atoneFor Cleomenes' mother, son, and wife?But what the gods have left us, we must take.Clean.'Tis all in vain: we have no further work.The people will not be dragged out to freedom;They bar their doors against it. Nay, the prisonersEven guard their chains, as their inheritance,And man their very dungeons for their masters,Lest godlike liberty, the common foe,Should enter in, and they be judged hereafterAccomplices of freedom.Panth.Then we may sheath our swords.Clean.We may, Pantheus;But, as brave men should, each in his bosom;That only way is left us to die free.Cleom.All's lost for which I once desired to live.Panth.Come to our business then. Be speedy, sir,And give the word; I'll be the first, to chargeThe grim foe, death.Cleom.Fortune, thou hast reduced me very low,To do the drudgery of fate myself.What! not one brave Egyptian! not one worthyTo do me manly right in single combat!To fall beneath my fury?—for that's justice:But then to drag me after:—for, to die,And yet in death to conquer, is my wish.Clean.Then have your wish: The gods at last are kind,And have provided you a sword that's worthyTo match your own: 'Tis an Egyptian's too.Cleom.Is there that hidden treasure in thy country?The gods be praised, for such a foe I want.Clean.Not such a foe, but such a friend am I.I would fall first, for fear I should survive you,And pull you after to make sure in death,To be your undivided friend for ever.Cleom.Then enter we into each other's breasts,'Tis a sharp passage, yet a kind one too.But, to prevent the blind mistake of swords,Lest one drop first, and leave his friend behind,Both thrust at once, and home, and at our hearts:Let neither stand on guard, but let our bosomsLie open to each other in our death,As in our life they were.[Kiss and embrace.Clean.I seal it thus.Panth.And where's my part? You shut me out, like churls,While you devour the feast of death betwixt you.Cleom.Cheer up thy soul, and thou shalt die, Pantheus,But in thy turn; there's death enough for all.But, as I am thy master, wait my leisure,And honestly compose my limbs to rest,Then serve thyself.—Now, are you ready, friend?Clean.I am.Cleom.Then this to our next happy meeting.[They both push together, then stagger backwards, and fall together in each other's Arms.Clean.Speak, have I served you to your wish, my friend?Cleom.Yes, friend——thou hast——I have thee in my heart——Say——art thou sped?Clean.I am,—'tis my last breath.Cleom.And mine——then both are happy.[Both die.Panth.So, this was well performed, and soon dispatched;Both sound asleep already,[Trumpets sound Victory within.And farewell both for one short moment.Those are the foes; our little band is lostFor want of these defenders. I must hasten,Lest I be forced to live, and led in triumph,Defrauded of my fate. I've earned it well,And finished all my task: This is my place,Just at my master's feet.—Guard him, ye gods,And save his sacred corpse from public shame.[He falls on his Sword, and lies at the foot ofCleomenes.—Dies.EnterSosibius,Cassandra,and Egyptians.Sosib.'Twas what my heart foreboded: There he lies,Extended by the man whom best he loved!A better friend than son.Cas.What's he, or thou? or Ptolemy? or Egypt?Or all the world, to Cleomenes lost?Sosib.Then I suspected right. If my revengeCan ease my sorrow, this the king shall know,That thou may'st reap the due reward of treason,And violated love.Cas.Thy worst, old dotard.I wish to die; but if my mind should change,So well I know my power, that thou art lost.Sosib.The king's arrival shall decide our fate.—Mean time, to show how much I honour virtue,Take up that hero's body, bear it high,Like the procession of a deity:Let his armed figure on his tomb be set,And we, like slaves, lie grovelling at his feet,Whose glories growing till his latest breath,Excelled all others, and his own in death.[Exeunt.EPILOGUE,SPOKEN BY MRS BRACEGIRDLE.This day, the Poet, bloodily inclined,Has made me die, full sore against my mind!Some of you naughty men, I fear, will cry,Poor rogue! would I might teach thee how to die!Thanks for your love; but I sincerely say,I never mean to die, your wicked way.Well, since it is decreed all flesh must go,(And I am flesh,—at least for aught you know)I first declare, I die with pious mind,In perfect charity with all mankind.Next for my will:——I have, in my dispose,Some certain moveables would please you beaux;As, first, my youth; for, as I have been told,Some of you modish sparks are devilish old.My chastity I need not leave among ye;For, to suspect old fops, were much to wrong ye.You swear you're sinners; but for all your haste,Your misses shake their heads, and find you chaste.I give my courage to those bold commanders,Who stay with us, and dare not go for Flanders.I leave my truth (to make his plot more clear)To Mr Fuller, when he next shall swear[45].I give my judgment, craving all your mercies,To those that leave good plays, for damned dull farces.My small devotion let the gallants share,That come to ogle us at evening prayer.I give my person——let me well consider,——Faith e'en to him that is the fairest bidder;To some rich hunks, if any be so boldTo say those dreadful words,To have and hold.But stay—to give, and be bequeathing still,When I'm so poor, is just like Wickham's will:Like that notorious cheat, vast sums I give,Only that you may keep me while I live[46].Buy a good bargain, gallants, while you may;I'll cost you but your half-a-crown a day.LOVE TRIUMPHANT:ORNATURE WILL PREVAIL.ATRAGI-COMEDY.——Quod optanti Divûm promittere nemoAuderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultrò.Virg.LOVE TRIUMPHANT.This piece, which concluded our author's labours as a dramatic poet, was unsuccessful when represented, and affords very little pleasure when perused. If we except "Amboyna," our author never produced a play, where the tragic part had less interest, or the comic less humour. For the faults of "Amboyna," Dryden pleaded the barren nature of the subject, chosen not with a view to dramatic effect, but to attain a political purpose, and the hurry of writing upon a temporary theme. But that he should have failed, in a play avowedly intended to crown his dramatic labours, where the story was of his own device, and the composition at his own leisure, can only be imputed to that occasional flatness, or cessation of the divine influence, as an ancient would have expressed it, from which men of the highest poetic genius are not exempted. In despite of all cold reasoning upon this subject, the fact is irresistible, that our capacity of exerting mental talents, is not more absolute than that which we possess over our bodily powers. We are in each case limited by a thousand external and internal circumstances, which occasion the greatest and most involuntary inequalities, between our happier and our inferior efforts, of mental abilities or of corporeal strength. It can only be to the temporary failure of the poetic inspiration, which, like the wind of heaven, bloweth where it listeth, and neither to want of labour, nor to impaired talents, that we are to attribute the inferiority of "Love Triumphant," to almost all Dryden's other compositions.The plot is unhappily chosen. For, as we have had already occasion to notice, stories turning, or appearing to turn, upon incestuous passion, have seldom been successful upon the modern stage[47]. Davies, in his "Dramatic Miscellanies," attributes Garrick's renouncing his intentionof reviving the admirable old play of "King and no King," to the ardent passion which Arbaces conceives for his supposed sister; and which that excellent judge suspected would not be tolerated in our age. "Phædra and Hippolitus," though most powerfully supported, both by actors and admirers, failed for the same reason; and, according to Davies, even the various excellencies of "Don Sebastian" were unable to expiate the disgust, excited by the unpleasing discovery of his relation to Almeyda. While "Love Triumphant" labours under this capital and disagreeable defect, little ingenuity can be discovered in the story, abstracted from that consideration. The king of Castile suffers his sole and only offspring to remain in the court of a rival and hostile monarch, and even to head armies against him, supposing himself the son of his enemy. The virtuous Queen of Arragon cultivates and encourages a passion, having all the moral guilt of an incestuous attachment, between her own daughter and her supposed son. The tyrant Veramond is the only person who acts upon rational principles through the piece. He refuses the liberty of a rival king to the petulant demand of Alphonso; and not very unreasonably proposes to separate his son and daughter, before worse consequences arose from their infamous and impudently avowed passion. But by this very natural conduct, he gains the hatred of his wife, his children, and his subjects:Miranda canit, sed non credenda, poeta.After so many and such violent stretches of probability, the author does not deign to wind up the plot, otherwise than by a sudden change in the temper and resolutions of Veramond, a conclusion which he himself admits in general to be grossly inartificial, and which in the present case is peculiarly infelicitous. The ruling passion of Veramond seems to be a hatred of his rival Ramirez, and a sort of instinctive antipathy to Alphonso, even when he believes him to be his own son, just arrived from conquest in his behalf. This hatred and aversion was not likely to be abated, by the objects of them turning out to be father and son; nor much soothed, by the circumstance of their making him prisoner in his own metropolis. Yet, in this situation, moved by a few soft speeches from Celidea, who had taken a fancy to the intended husband of her sister, the tyrant of Arragon alters his whole family arrangements, and habits of mind; and takes his hated foes into his family and bosom, merely that the play may be concluded. The author of these inconsistencies can hardly escape the censure of Aristotle, against which he has pleaded in the preface.With regard to the poetry of "Love Triumphant," it is somewhat remarkable, that, in the most laboured scenes of this last effortof his tragic muse, Dryden has had recourse to his discarded mistress, Rhyme. As this could hardly arise from an alteration of his final opinion, it may have been owing to a consciousness, that there was some deficiency in the piece, which the harmony of numbers might veil, though it could not supply. The turn of the dialogue, also, is quite in our poet's early manner. The lovers, in the first scene of the second act, burning with a horrible passion, which they felt it death to conceal, and infamy and mortal sin to avow, communicate their feelings to each other in alternate couplets, like two contending Arcadians. Their horror evaporates in antithesis, and their passion in quaint prettinesses. Witness the speech of Alphonso:Alph.Oh raging, impious, and yet hopeless fire!Not daring to possess what I desire;Condemn'd to suffer what I cannot bear;Tortur'd with love, and furious with despair.Of all the pains which wretched mortals prove,The fewest remedies belong to love:But ours has none; for if we should enjoy,Our fatal cure must both of us destroy.Oh dear Victoria, cause of all my pain!Oh dear Victoria, whom I would not gain!Victoria, for whose sake I would survive:Victoria, for whose sake I dare not live.If the tragic part of "Love Triumphant" have little merit, the comic has even less. The absurdity of the two gallants disguising themselves, in hopes to pass for the deceased Conde upon a mistress, who had borne him two children, is too gross for a puppet-show, or pantomime; and there is nothing in the dialogue to attone for the flatness, and extravagance of the plot. It may, however, be remarked, that Sancho, a tawdry and conceited coxcomb, the son of a Jewish usurer, and favoured by the father of his mistress, only for his wealth, has some resemblance in manners and genealogy to a much more pleasant character, that of Isaac in the "Duenna."It is impossible to dismiss a performance of Dryden, without some tribute of praise. The verse, where it is employed, possesses, as usual, all the dignity which numbers can give to language; and the Song upon Jealousy, as well as that in the character of a Girl, have superior merit.The play was received as ill as might be; so at least we are informed by a curious letter, preserved by Mr Malone, dated 22d March 1693-4, in which the writer, after chuckling over the failure of the "Double Dealer," and the absolute damnation of "Love Triumphant," concludes, that the success of Southerne's "Fatal Marriage" will encourage the minor poets, "and vex huffingDryden, and Congreve, to madness[48]." Dryden himself, it may be noticed, says nothing in the preface concerning the reception of the piece: all authorities, however, state it to have been unfavourable; and thus, as Dr Johnson has remarked, this great poet opened and closed his theatrical career with bad success; a fact, which may secure the inexperienced author from despondence, and teach him who has gained reputation, how little he ought to presume on its stability."Love Triumphant" was first acted and published in 1693-4.TOTHE RIGHT HONOURABLEJAMESEARL OF SALISBURY, &c.[49],MY LORD,Thispoem, being the last which I intend for the theatre, ought to have the same provision made for it, which old men make for their youngest child, which is commonly a favourite. They, who were born before it, carry away the patrimony by right of eldership; this is to make its fortune in the world, and since I can do little for it, natural affection calls upon me to put it out, at least, into the best service which I can procure for it; and, as it is the usual practice of our decayed gentry to look about them for some illustrious family, and theirendeavour to fix their young darling, where he may be both well educated and supported;[50]I have herein also followed the custom of the world, and am satisfied in my judgment, that I could not havemade a more worthy choice. It is true, I am not vain enough to think that anything of mine can in any measure be worthy of your lordship's patronage; and yet I should be ashamed to leave the stage, without some acknowledgment of your former favours, which I have more than once experienced. Besides the honour of my wife's relation to your noble house,[51]to which my sons may plead some title, though I cannot; you have been pleased to take a particular notice of me, even in this lowness of my fortunes, to which I have voluntarily reduced myself; and of which I have no reason to be ashamed. This condescension, my lord, is not only becoming of your antient family, but of your personal character in the world; and, if I value myself the more for your indulgence to me, and your opinion of me, it is because any thing which you like, ought to be considered as something in itself;and therefore I must not undervalue my present labours, because I have presumed to make you my patron. A man may be just to himself, though he ought not to be partial; and I dare affirm, that the several manners which I have given to the persons of this drama, are truly drawn from nature, all perfectly distinguished from each other; that the fable is not injudiciously contrived; that the turns of fortune are not managed unartfully; and that the last revolution is happily enough invented. Aristotle, I acknowledge, has declared, that the catastrophe which is made from the change of will, is not of the first order of beauty; but it may reasonably be alledged, in defence of this play, as well as of the "Cinna," (which I take to be the very best of Corneille's,) that the philosopher, who made the rule, copied all the laws, which he gave for the theatre, from the authorities and examples of the Greek poets, which he had read; and from their poverty of invention, he could get nothing but mean conclusions of wretched tales: where the mind of the chief actor was, for the most part, changed without art or preparation; only because the poet could not otherwise end his play. Had it been possible for Aristotle to have seen the "Cinna," I am confident he would have altered his opinion; and concluded, that a simple change of will might be managed with so much judgment, as to render it the most agreeable, as well as the most surprising part of the whole fable; let Dacier, and all the rest of the modern critics, who are too much bigotted to the ancients, contend ever so much to the contrary. I was afraid that I had been the inventor of a new sort of designing, when, in my third act, I make a discovery of my Alphonso's true parentage. If it were so, what wonder had it been, that dramatic poetry, though a limited art, yet might be capableof receiving some innovations for the better? But afterwards I casually found, that Menander and Terence, in the "Heautontimoroumenos," had been before me; and made the same kind of discovery in the same act. As for the mechanic unities;—that of time is much within the compass of an astrological day, which begins at twelve, and ends at the same hour the day following: that of place is not observed so justly by me, as by the ancients; for their scene was always one, and almost constantly in some public place. Some of the late French poets, and, amongst the English, my most ingenious friend, Mr Congreve, have observed this rule strictly; though the place was not altogether so public as a street. I have followed the example of Corneille, and stretched the latitude to a street and palace, not far distant from each other in the same city. They, who will not allow this liberty to a poet, make it a very ridiculous thing for an audience to suppose themselves, sometimes to be in a field, sometimes in a garden, and at other times in a chamber. There are not, indeed, so many absurdities in their supposition, as in ours; but it is an original absurdity for the audience to suppose themselves to be in any other place, than in the very theatre in which they sit; which is neither chamber, nor garden, nor yet a public place of any business, but that of the representation. For my action it is evidently double; and in that I have the most of the ancients for my examples. Yet I dare not defend this way by reason, much less by their authority; for their actions, though double, were of the same species; that is to say, in their comedies, two amours; and their persons were better linked in interests than mine. Yet even this is a fault which I should often practise, if I were to write again, because it is agreeable to the English genius.We love variety more than any other nation; and so long as the audience will not be pleased without it, the poet is obliged to humour them. On condition they were cured of this public vice, I could be content to change my method, and gladly give them a more reasonable pleasure. This digression, my lord, is not altogether the purpose of an epistle dedicatory; yet it is expected, that somewhat should be said, even here, in relation to criticism; at least in vindication of my address, that you may not be desired to patronize a poem, which is wholly unworthy of your protection. Though, after all, I doubt not but some will liken me to the lover in a modern comedy, who was combing his peruke,[52]and setting his cravat before his mistress; and being asked by her, when he intended to begin his court, replied, "He had been doing it all this while." Yet thus it happens, my lord, that self will come into all addresses of this nature, though it is the most unmannerly word of the world in civil conversation, and the most ungrateful to all hearers. For which reason, I, who have nothing to boast of, but my misfortunes, ought to be the first to banish it; especially since I have so largea field before me, as your inborn goodness, your evenness of temper, your humility in so ample a share of fortune as you possess, your humanity to all men, and your kindness to your friends; besides your natural and acquired endowments, and your brotherly love to your relations.Notus in fratres animo paterno, was the great commendation which Horace gave to one of his patrons; and it is that praise which particularly crowns your other virtues. But here, my lord, I am obliged, in common prudence to stop short, and to cast under a veil some other of your praises, as the chemists use to shadow the secret of their great elixir, lest, if it were made public, the world should make a bad use of it.[53]To enjoy our own quiet, without disturbing that of others, is the practice of every moral man; and, for the rest, to live chearfully and splendidly, as it is becoming your illustrious birth, so it is likewise to thank God for his benefits in the best manner. It is unnecessary to wish you more worldly happiness or content of mind, than you enjoy; but the continuance of both to yourself, and your posterity, is earnestly desired by all who have the honour to be known to you, and more particularly by,My Lord,Your lordship'smost obedient andmost humbly devoted servant,John Dryden.

Cleom.No food, and this the third arising sun!

But what have I to do with telling suns,

And measuring time, that runs no more for me?

Yet sure the gods are good: I would think so,

If they would give me leave;

But virtue in distress, and vice in triumph,

Make atheists of mankind.—

EnterCratesiclea.

What comfort, mother?

Crat.A soul, not conscious to itself of ill,Undaunted courage, and a master mind;No comfort else but death,Who, like a lazy master, stands aloof,And leaves his work to the slow hands of famine.

Crat.A soul, not conscious to itself of ill,

Undaunted courage, and a master mind;

No comfort else but death,

Who, like a lazy master, stands aloof,

And leaves his work to the slow hands of famine.

Cleom.All I would ask of heaven,Is, but to die alone, a single ruin;But to die o'er and o'er, in each of you,With my own hunger pinched, but pierced with yours!

Cleom.All I would ask of heaven,

Is, but to die alone, a single ruin;

But to die o'er and o'er, in each of you,

With my own hunger pinched, but pierced with yours!

Crat.Grieve not for me.

Cleom.What! not for you, my mother?I'm strangely tempted to blaspheme the gods,For giving me so good, so kind a parent;And this is my return, to cause her death.

Cleom.What! not for you, my mother?

I'm strangely tempted to blaspheme the gods,

For giving me so good, so kind a parent;

And this is my return, to cause her death.

Crat.Peace! your misfortunes cause it, not your fault.

EnterCleora.Cleom.What! my Cleora?I stretched my bounds as far as I could go,To shun the sight of what I cannot help;A flower withering on the stalk, for wantOf nourishment from earth, and showers from heaven,All I can give thee is but rain of eyes.[Wiping his Eyes.Cleor.Alas! I have not wherewithal to weep;My eyes grow dim, and, stiffened up with drought,Can hardly roll, and walk their feeble round.Indeed I am faint.Crat.And so am I, heaven knows! However,[Aside.In pity of them both, I keep it secret;Nor shall he see me fall.[ExitCrat.Cleom.How does your helpless infant?Cleor.It wants the breast, its kindly nourishment;And I have none to give from these dry cisterns,Which, unsupplied themselves, can yield no more.It pulled, and pulled but now, but nothing came:At last it drew so hard, that the blood followed;And that red milk I found upon its lips,Which made me swoon with fear.Cleom.Go in and rest thee,And hush the child asleep.—[ExitCleora.Look down, ye gods!Look, Hercules, thou author of my race,And jog thy father, Jove, that he may lookOn his neglected work of humankind!Tell him, I do not curse him; but devotionWill cool in after-times, if none but good men suffer.—What! another increase of grief?EnterCleonidas.Cleon.O father!Cleom.Why dost thou call me by so kind a name?A father! that implies presiding care;Cheerful to give; willing himself to wantWhate'er thy needs require.Cleon.A little food!Have you none, father? One poor hungry morsel;Or give me leave to die, as I desired;For, without your consent, heaven knows, I dare not.Cleom.I pr'ythee stay a little:—I am lothTo say hard things of heaven!Cleon.But what if heavenWill do hard things, must not hard things be said?You've often told me, that the souls of kingsAre made above the rest of human race;Have they not fortunes fitted for those souls?Did ever king die starved?Cleom.I know not that;Yet still be firm in this,—The gods are good,Though thou and I may perish.Cleon.Indeed, I know not,That ever I offended heaven in thought;I always said my prayers.Cleom.Thou didst thy duty.Cleon.And yet you lost the battle, when I prayed.Cleom.'Twas in the Fates I should: but hold thee there;The rest is all unfathomable depth.This we well know, that, if there be a blissBeyond this present life, 'tis purchased here,And virtue is its price.Cleon.But are you sureOur souls shall be immortal?Cleom.Why that question?Cleon.Because I find, that, now my body starves,My soul decays. I think not as I did;My head goes round; and now you swim before me.Methinks my soul is like a flame unfedWith oil, that dances up and down the lamp,But must expire ere long.Cleom.I pr'ythee try to hold it, while thou canst.Cleon.I would obey you,As I have always done, but I am faint;And when you please to let me die, I'll thank you.Cleom.Thou shall have food; I promise thee, thou shalt.Cleon.Then you shall promise to have food for yourself too;For, if you have it not, I would refuse to eat;Nay, I would chuse to die, that you might feed on me.Cleom.Mark, heaven, his filial love!And if a family of such as theseMust perish thus, your model is destroyed,By which you made good men.EnterPantheus,hastily.Panth.Be cheerful, sir, the gods have sent us food.Cleom.They tried me of the longest; but by whom?Panth.Go in and see.Cleon.Good father, do not stay to ask, but go.Cleom.Go thou; thy youth calls fiercer than my age.Cleon.But then make haste, and come to take your part:Hunger may make me impious, to eat all,And leave you last to starve.[ExitCleonidas.Panth.Sir, will you go?Cleom.I know not; I am half seas o'er to death;And, since I must die once, I would be lothTo make a double work of what's half finished;Unless I could be sure the gods would stillRenew these miracles.[44]—Who brought this food?Panth.He's here that can resolve you.[ExitPantheus.EnterCleanthes,with a Sword in his Hand.Cleom.How darest thou come again within my sight?Thou art,—but 'tis no matter what thou art.I'll not consider thee so far to thinkThee worth reproach.—Away, away, Egyptian!That's all the name that's left thee.Clean.Such I appear indeed.Cleom.Why then for once, that which thou seem'st, thou art.—Begone!Clean.Oh I have been too long away!Cleom.Too soon thou art returned,To triumph o'er my fate.Clean.Forgive me, that I seemed your foe.Cleom.Forgive me, heaven, for thinking thee my friend.—No more; 'tis loss of time to talk.Clean.Indeed it is,When hunger calls so loud for sustenance.But whether friend or foe, 'tis food I bring.Cleom.'Tis poison; and my mother, and my wife,And my poor famished boy, are eating death.Thou would'st not have me think, that thou repent'st?Clean.Heaven knows, I do not!Cleom.Well said, man! Go on; and be not bashful,To own the merits of thy wickedness.Clean.What need has innocence of a repentance?Cleom.Shuffling again! Pr'ythee, be of a piece.A little steadiness becomes a villain.Clean.Oh, friend!—for yet I dare to call you so;Which, if I were a villain, sure I durst not,—Hear me, or kill me!Cleom.So, by heaven, I would,For thy profaning friendship's holy name;But, for thou see'st no justice hanging here,On this bare side, thou talk'st secure of vengeance.Clean.Then, if you had a sword, my death's resolved?Cleom.Thy conscience answers thee.Clean.Without more evidence than bare surmise;At most, appearance of a crime unproved;And, while unproved, uncertain.Cleom.Traitor, no more! 'tis fulsome.Clean.Take the sword.[Throws it to him.Cleom.I thank thee; draw thy own.[Takes it up.Clean.No; take that too.[Draws his, and offers it.Cleom.Fool! would'st thou die without defence?Clean.I would not:But you forbade me to defend myself,Then, when you would not hear me.Cleom.Can falsehood have a better argument,Than force for its defence? Trust to that topic,And bear thee like a man.Clean.I think, I do.Cleom.What kind of man is that, who dares not fight?Clean.The man, who dares not when his honour calls,Is what you mean, but what I never was;For honour never summons without reason.Force is the law of brutes: the dumb creation,Where words and reason want, appeal to might.I thought a king, and, what you boast, a Spartan,Might have known this, without the Egyptian's telling.Cleom.Come, come; thou dar'st not fight.Clean.By heaven, I dare!But first my honour must be justified,If you dare be my judge;For, in this crude and indigested quarrel,If I should fall unheard, you kill your friend,The man, who loved you best, and holds you dearest;And should you perish in the unjust attempt,The sword, that slew you, should revenge your death;For I should soon o'ertake you in the way,To quit myself before you reached the shades,And told your tale to Minos.Cleom.Then I must hear; but swear, swear first, I charge thee,That, when I have pronounced, thou wilt no moreProlong thy prattle with some new excuse;And pr'ythee cut it short, because I faint,And long to kill thee first—Oh, I am going!A rising vapour rumbles in my brains,I hear my words far off:—stand, stand, thou traitor,And swim not thus before me;—'tis too late;[Puts the Point upon the Ground, once or twice; leans on it, and staggers.And I fall unrevenged.—[Offers to run at him, and is falling.Clean.What ho, Pantheus![Runs to him, and takes him in his arms.The best of men is dying in my arms,And I want power to save him.EnterPantheus.Panth.O heavens! what means this direful object?Clean.Ask not, with unassisting pity; bow him forward.Rub his numbed temples, while I wipe the sweatFrom his cold clammy face.Panth.His mounting heartBounces against my hands, as if it wouldThrust off his manly soul.Clean.Wrench ope his mouth,While I infuse these sovereign drops, whose powerWill soon recall his wandered sense—[He instills somewhat out of a Vial into his Mouth.He stirs,And stretches now, and seems to essay his limbs.Cleom.Where am I?[Standing a while; they support him.Clean.In his arms, who died with you,And, now you live, revives.Cleom.Art thou Pantheus?Panth.Believe your eyes, I am.Cleom.Speak then, and truly, (for I trust not him,)Who brought me back to life?Panth.Who, but he, who was left single with you,Who caught you, falling, in his faithful arms;And, not alone sufficient to restore you,Called loud for my assistance.I found him, propping you with trembling hands;His eyes so hagard, I could scarce distinguishWho was the living friend, and who the dead.Cleom.All this, Cleanthes! This, what this Cleanthes?Panth.Yes, your Cleanthes.Clean.Your suspected friend,Much wronged, but ever faithful.Cleom.Art thou sureI live? Or am I in the regions of the dead,And hear the fables there, myself a fable?Panth.Go in, and see your chearful familyEating his bread, brought in their last distress;And, with a good mistaking piety,First blessing him, then heaven.Cleom.When I hear this, I have no need of food;I am restored without it.Clean.Then, now hear me;How I was forced into this seeming falsehood,To save myself, the only means remainingTo save the man I love beyond myself,And gain a needful credit with Cassandra:And yet even then deceived, and sent far offFor three long days, unknowing of your wants,Not thinking she, who loved, could use you thus.By famishment to——Cleom.O, no more! no more!For now I understand, ere thou canst speak it half:To thee I owed the seizing of my sword,Lest I should fall by odds; my wife's return,All, all to thee; and thou art more than all.Canst thou forgive me? Canst thou, my Cleanthes?Can I deserve thus to grow here once more?[Embracing him.Let me embrace myself quite into thee.Clean.Come, come as fiercely as thou wilt, I meet thee;[EmbracesCleom.I close within thee, and am thou again.Panth.Why, this is as it should be.Cleom.I could not thus have taken to the deathAnother's falsehood, but thine, only thine;For infinitely, infinitely loving,'Twas a wide gap thou mad'st within my bosom,And as my soul rent from me.Clean.But thy hunger!This violent transport of my reconcilementMakes me forget thy wants; when I embraced thee,Thy spungy body dwindled in my arms,And, like a ghost, fled from me.Cleom.I could eat—[Going in.Now my first appetite of love is served;And that was much the keenest: Let us in,For life looks lovely now, and worth preserving.Clean.Not that way, friend;It leads you to the women, and the boy.Cleom.And why must I avoid those tender blessings?Clean.Even such because they are, you must avoid them.For I must tell you, friend, you have but timeTo snatch a hasty morsel, and away:Nothing of manhood must be clogged, or softened,With womanish sighs and tears, and kind adieus,And those ill-timed remorses of good nature,When your whole soul is needful.Panth.You tell us wonders!Clean.At the king's return,Which daily we expect, your death's resolved.This hour's your own; take it, and tempt your fortuneSome few brave friends I hope to add;If not, all Egypt's numbered in myself.Cleom.I'm all on fire.—Now for a lucky pullAt fate's last lottery!I long to see the colour, white or black:That's the gods' work; and if I fall their shame,Let them ne'er think of making heroes more,If cowards must prevail.Panth.The fewer hands,The fewer partners in the share of honour.Cleom.Come, my Pantheus;—lead, my best Cleanthes!We three to all the world.Clean.Magas, and liberty, let be the word:Magas is loved, and liberty desired.A short refection waits at the lieutenant's,That honest friend, who sent you back your wife.We'll drink a bowl of wine, and pour the rest,Not to the dog Anubis, but to Jove,The freer and avenger.[Exeunt.EnterCratesiclea,Cleora,Cleonidas.Cleor.Gone, and without taking leave!Crat.The better.He bated me the forms, and you the fondness.Cleon.Pantheus, too, and he, who brought the food,The brave Egyptian, vanished altogether.Cleor.Oh, my foreboding soul! he's gone to death!And that Cleanthes, whom thou call'st the brave,Has basely trained him to his destruction!Crat.Suspect him not; when fate was in his power,And by a method so secure as famine,To save us then, shows he had little needTo trick my son to death.I have a better prospect of the event.Cleor.Dear mother! comfort me, and tell your thoughts;For I see nothing but a gathering tempest,Horror on horror, to the end of heaven!Crat.No, no; you are not of a soul to bearThe mighty good and ill, that meet midway,As from two goals; and which comes first upon us,Fate only knows.Cleon.Then speak to me, for I can stand the shock;Like a young plant, that fastens in a storm,And deeper drives the root.Crat.Thy soul's too strong; thy body yet too weak,To bear the crush. Be still, and wait thy doom.[A cry within:Liberty, liberty! Magas, Magas!To arms for Magas, and for liberty!Cleon.What noble sound was that, so smart and vigorous,A soul in every word?Crat.Why, that was it,I thought was doing; but I durst not tell,Till now it shows itself.The work's begun, my boy; the work's begun;There was thy father in that warlike shout,Stemming the tide of Egypt.Cleor.O comfort me, my husband's mother! say,My lord may live and conquer!Crat.Possibly;But still make sure of death; trust we to that,As to our last reserve.Cleor.Alas! I dare not die.Crat.Come, come, you dare:Do not belye your courage.Cleor.Heaven help me, I have none.Crat.Then dare you be a slave to base Egyptians?For that must be, if you outlive your husband.Cleor.I think, I durst, to save myself from death.Crat.Then, as a slave, you durst be ravished too?Cleor.The Gods forbid!Crat.The Gods cannot forbid itBy any way but death.Cleor.Then I dare die.Crat.I told you so; you did not know your virtue.Poor trembling thing, I'll warm thee in my bosom,And make thee take death kindly.[Another Shout within—Liberty and Magas!Cleon.What must become of me?Crat.More trouble yet about this paltry being?For shame, no more such qualms!Cleon.No more such vile mistakes! I would die warm,And not in women's company, but men's.Whether some god inspires me to this act,Or fate inevitably calls me on,I will not, cannot stay:But, as a generous, unfleshed hound, that hearsFrom far the hunters' horn and chearful cry,So will I haste; and, by the music led,Come up with death or honour.[Exit.Cleor.Stop him, dear mother; he may comfort us,But cannot help his father.Crat.The hero's blood is not to be controuled;Even in a child 'tis madly masterful.But wait we patient with our petty stakes,Which on those greater gamesters must depend;For, as they throw, our little lots must follow,Like sweepings of their heap.[Crat.andCleorago in. Trumpets; a Shout within—Liberty, Liberty, and Magas!EnterCleomenes,Cleanthes,Pantheus,followed by some few Egyptians.Cleom.What, is this populous city turned a desert?The cry of "Liberty" runs on before us,And yet none appears!By Hercules, we drive them through their town:They dare not stay to welcome their deliverers.Clean.The cowards are afraid of what they wish;And, could they be their own, they would be ours.Cleom.They're gone; we talk to houses and to walls.Panth.Not so; I see some peeping from their doors.—What are you? friends, or foes?Four Egyptians appear, peeping from the opposite Entrances of the Stage.1 Egypt.Friends, friends; all honest men,And hearty to the cause.Clean.Explain what cause; and give the general cry.1 and 2 Egypt.Liberty and Magas.Cleom.[In their Tone.]Liberty and Magas!The cowards whisper liberty so softly,As if they were afraid the gods would hear it,And take them at their word.1 Egypt.No, friend: We vulgar never fear thegods; but we whisper, for fear our o'erthwartneighbours should hear us cry, Liberty, and betrayus to the government.Clean.Of what side are you there?[To the opposite Egyptian.

EnterCleora.

Cleom.What! my Cleora?I stretched my bounds as far as I could go,To shun the sight of what I cannot help;A flower withering on the stalk, for wantOf nourishment from earth, and showers from heaven,All I can give thee is but rain of eyes.[Wiping his Eyes.

Cleom.What! my Cleora?

I stretched my bounds as far as I could go,

To shun the sight of what I cannot help;

A flower withering on the stalk, for want

Of nourishment from earth, and showers from heaven,

All I can give thee is but rain of eyes.[Wiping his Eyes.

Cleor.Alas! I have not wherewithal to weep;My eyes grow dim, and, stiffened up with drought,Can hardly roll, and walk their feeble round.Indeed I am faint.

Cleor.Alas! I have not wherewithal to weep;

My eyes grow dim, and, stiffened up with drought,

Can hardly roll, and walk their feeble round.

Indeed I am faint.

Crat.And so am I, heaven knows! However,[Aside.In pity of them both, I keep it secret;Nor shall he see me fall.[ExitCrat.

Crat.And so am I, heaven knows! However,[Aside.

In pity of them both, I keep it secret;

Nor shall he see me fall.[ExitCrat.

Cleom.How does your helpless infant?

Cleor.It wants the breast, its kindly nourishment;And I have none to give from these dry cisterns,Which, unsupplied themselves, can yield no more.It pulled, and pulled but now, but nothing came:At last it drew so hard, that the blood followed;And that red milk I found upon its lips,Which made me swoon with fear.

Cleor.It wants the breast, its kindly nourishment;

And I have none to give from these dry cisterns,

Which, unsupplied themselves, can yield no more.

It pulled, and pulled but now, but nothing came:

At last it drew so hard, that the blood followed;

And that red milk I found upon its lips,

Which made me swoon with fear.

Cleom.Go in and rest thee,And hush the child asleep.—[ExitCleora.Look down, ye gods!Look, Hercules, thou author of my race,And jog thy father, Jove, that he may lookOn his neglected work of humankind!Tell him, I do not curse him; but devotionWill cool in after-times, if none but good men suffer.—What! another increase of grief?

Cleom.Go in and rest thee,

And hush the child asleep.—[ExitCleora.

Look down, ye gods!

Look, Hercules, thou author of my race,

And jog thy father, Jove, that he may look

On his neglected work of humankind!

Tell him, I do not curse him; but devotion

Will cool in after-times, if none but good men suffer.—

What! another increase of grief?

EnterCleonidas.

Cleon.O father!

Cleom.Why dost thou call me by so kind a name?A father! that implies presiding care;Cheerful to give; willing himself to wantWhate'er thy needs require.

Cleom.Why dost thou call me by so kind a name?

A father! that implies presiding care;

Cheerful to give; willing himself to want

Whate'er thy needs require.

Cleon.A little food!Have you none, father? One poor hungry morsel;Or give me leave to die, as I desired;For, without your consent, heaven knows, I dare not.

Cleon.A little food!

Have you none, father? One poor hungry morsel;

Or give me leave to die, as I desired;

For, without your consent, heaven knows, I dare not.

Cleom.I pr'ythee stay a little:—I am lothTo say hard things of heaven!

Cleom.I pr'ythee stay a little:—I am loth

To say hard things of heaven!

Cleon.But what if heavenWill do hard things, must not hard things be said?You've often told me, that the souls of kingsAre made above the rest of human race;Have they not fortunes fitted for those souls?Did ever king die starved?

Cleon.But what if heaven

Will do hard things, must not hard things be said?

You've often told me, that the souls of kings

Are made above the rest of human race;

Have they not fortunes fitted for those souls?

Did ever king die starved?

Cleom.I know not that;Yet still be firm in this,—The gods are good,Though thou and I may perish.

Cleom.I know not that;

Yet still be firm in this,—The gods are good,

Though thou and I may perish.

Cleon.Indeed, I know not,That ever I offended heaven in thought;I always said my prayers.

Cleon.Indeed, I know not,

That ever I offended heaven in thought;

I always said my prayers.

Cleom.Thou didst thy duty.

Cleon.And yet you lost the battle, when I prayed.

Cleom.'Twas in the Fates I should: but hold thee there;The rest is all unfathomable depth.This we well know, that, if there be a blissBeyond this present life, 'tis purchased here,And virtue is its price.

Cleom.'Twas in the Fates I should: but hold thee there;

The rest is all unfathomable depth.

This we well know, that, if there be a bliss

Beyond this present life, 'tis purchased here,

And virtue is its price.

Cleon.But are you sureOur souls shall be immortal?

Cleon.But are you sure

Our souls shall be immortal?

Cleom.Why that question?

Cleon.Because I find, that, now my body starves,My soul decays. I think not as I did;My head goes round; and now you swim before me.Methinks my soul is like a flame unfedWith oil, that dances up and down the lamp,But must expire ere long.

Cleon.Because I find, that, now my body starves,

My soul decays. I think not as I did;

My head goes round; and now you swim before me.

Methinks my soul is like a flame unfed

With oil, that dances up and down the lamp,

But must expire ere long.

Cleom.I pr'ythee try to hold it, while thou canst.

Cleon.I would obey you,As I have always done, but I am faint;And when you please to let me die, I'll thank you.

Cleon.I would obey you,

As I have always done, but I am faint;

And when you please to let me die, I'll thank you.

Cleom.Thou shall have food; I promise thee, thou shalt.

Cleon.Then you shall promise to have food for yourself too;For, if you have it not, I would refuse to eat;Nay, I would chuse to die, that you might feed on me.

Cleon.Then you shall promise to have food for yourself too;

For, if you have it not, I would refuse to eat;

Nay, I would chuse to die, that you might feed on me.

Cleom.Mark, heaven, his filial love!And if a family of such as theseMust perish thus, your model is destroyed,By which you made good men.

Cleom.Mark, heaven, his filial love!

And if a family of such as these

Must perish thus, your model is destroyed,

By which you made good men.

EnterPantheus,hastily.

Panth.Be cheerful, sir, the gods have sent us food.

Cleom.They tried me of the longest; but by whom?

Panth.Go in and see.

Cleon.Good father, do not stay to ask, but go.

Cleom.Go thou; thy youth calls fiercer than my age.

Cleon.But then make haste, and come to take your part:Hunger may make me impious, to eat all,And leave you last to starve.[ExitCleonidas.

Cleon.But then make haste, and come to take your part:

Hunger may make me impious, to eat all,

And leave you last to starve.[ExitCleonidas.

Panth.Sir, will you go?

Cleom.I know not; I am half seas o'er to death;And, since I must die once, I would be lothTo make a double work of what's half finished;Unless I could be sure the gods would stillRenew these miracles.[44]—Who brought this food?

Cleom.I know not; I am half seas o'er to death;

And, since I must die once, I would be loth

To make a double work of what's half finished;

Unless I could be sure the gods would still

Renew these miracles.[44]—Who brought this food?

Panth.He's here that can resolve you.[ExitPantheus.

EnterCleanthes,with a Sword in his Hand.

Cleom.How darest thou come again within my sight?Thou art,—but 'tis no matter what thou art.I'll not consider thee so far to thinkThee worth reproach.—Away, away, Egyptian!That's all the name that's left thee.

Cleom.How darest thou come again within my sight?

Thou art,—but 'tis no matter what thou art.

I'll not consider thee so far to think

Thee worth reproach.—Away, away, Egyptian!

That's all the name that's left thee.

Clean.Such I appear indeed.

Cleom.Why then for once, that which thou seem'st, thou art.—Begone!

Cleom.Why then for once, that which thou seem'st, thou art.—

Begone!

Clean.Oh I have been too long away!

Cleom.Too soon thou art returned,To triumph o'er my fate.

Cleom.Too soon thou art returned,

To triumph o'er my fate.

Clean.Forgive me, that I seemed your foe.

Cleom.Forgive me, heaven, for thinking thee my friend.—No more; 'tis loss of time to talk.

Cleom.Forgive me, heaven, for thinking thee my friend.—

No more; 'tis loss of time to talk.

Clean.Indeed it is,When hunger calls so loud for sustenance.But whether friend or foe, 'tis food I bring.

Clean.Indeed it is,

When hunger calls so loud for sustenance.

But whether friend or foe, 'tis food I bring.

Cleom.'Tis poison; and my mother, and my wife,And my poor famished boy, are eating death.Thou would'st not have me think, that thou repent'st?

Cleom.'Tis poison; and my mother, and my wife,

And my poor famished boy, are eating death.

Thou would'st not have me think, that thou repent'st?

Clean.Heaven knows, I do not!

Cleom.Well said, man! Go on; and be not bashful,To own the merits of thy wickedness.

Cleom.Well said, man! Go on; and be not bashful,

To own the merits of thy wickedness.

Clean.What need has innocence of a repentance?

Cleom.Shuffling again! Pr'ythee, be of a piece.A little steadiness becomes a villain.

Cleom.Shuffling again! Pr'ythee, be of a piece.

A little steadiness becomes a villain.

Clean.Oh, friend!—for yet I dare to call you so;Which, if I were a villain, sure I durst not,—Hear me, or kill me!

Clean.Oh, friend!—for yet I dare to call you so;

Which, if I were a villain, sure I durst not,—

Hear me, or kill me!

Cleom.So, by heaven, I would,For thy profaning friendship's holy name;But, for thou see'st no justice hanging here,On this bare side, thou talk'st secure of vengeance.

Cleom.So, by heaven, I would,

For thy profaning friendship's holy name;

But, for thou see'st no justice hanging here,

On this bare side, thou talk'st secure of vengeance.

Clean.Then, if you had a sword, my death's resolved?

Cleom.Thy conscience answers thee.

Clean.Without more evidence than bare surmise;At most, appearance of a crime unproved;And, while unproved, uncertain.

Clean.Without more evidence than bare surmise;

At most, appearance of a crime unproved;

And, while unproved, uncertain.

Cleom.Traitor, no more! 'tis fulsome.

Clean.Take the sword.[Throws it to him.

Cleom.I thank thee; draw thy own.[Takes it up.

Clean.No; take that too.[Draws his, and offers it.

Cleom.Fool! would'st thou die without defence?

Clean.I would not:But you forbade me to defend myself,Then, when you would not hear me.

Clean.I would not:

But you forbade me to defend myself,

Then, when you would not hear me.

Cleom.Can falsehood have a better argument,Than force for its defence? Trust to that topic,And bear thee like a man.

Cleom.Can falsehood have a better argument,

Than force for its defence? Trust to that topic,

And bear thee like a man.

Clean.I think, I do.

Cleom.What kind of man is that, who dares not fight?

Clean.The man, who dares not when his honour calls,Is what you mean, but what I never was;For honour never summons without reason.Force is the law of brutes: the dumb creation,Where words and reason want, appeal to might.I thought a king, and, what you boast, a Spartan,Might have known this, without the Egyptian's telling.

Clean.The man, who dares not when his honour calls,

Is what you mean, but what I never was;

For honour never summons without reason.

Force is the law of brutes: the dumb creation,

Where words and reason want, appeal to might.

I thought a king, and, what you boast, a Spartan,

Might have known this, without the Egyptian's telling.

Cleom.Come, come; thou dar'st not fight.

Clean.By heaven, I dare!But first my honour must be justified,If you dare be my judge;For, in this crude and indigested quarrel,If I should fall unheard, you kill your friend,The man, who loved you best, and holds you dearest;And should you perish in the unjust attempt,The sword, that slew you, should revenge your death;For I should soon o'ertake you in the way,To quit myself before you reached the shades,And told your tale to Minos.

Clean.By heaven, I dare!

But first my honour must be justified,

If you dare be my judge;

For, in this crude and indigested quarrel,

If I should fall unheard, you kill your friend,

The man, who loved you best, and holds you dearest;

And should you perish in the unjust attempt,

The sword, that slew you, should revenge your death;

For I should soon o'ertake you in the way,

To quit myself before you reached the shades,

And told your tale to Minos.

Cleom.Then I must hear; but swear, swear first, I charge thee,That, when I have pronounced, thou wilt no moreProlong thy prattle with some new excuse;And pr'ythee cut it short, because I faint,And long to kill thee first—Oh, I am going!A rising vapour rumbles in my brains,I hear my words far off:—stand, stand, thou traitor,And swim not thus before me;—'tis too late;

Cleom.Then I must hear; but swear, swear first, I charge thee,

That, when I have pronounced, thou wilt no more

Prolong thy prattle with some new excuse;

And pr'ythee cut it short, because I faint,

And long to kill thee first—Oh, I am going!

A rising vapour rumbles in my brains,

I hear my words far off:—stand, stand, thou traitor,

And swim not thus before me;—'tis too late;

[Puts the Point upon the Ground, once or twice; leans on it, and staggers.

And I fall unrevenged.—[Offers to run at him, and is falling.

Clean.What ho, Pantheus![Runs to him, and takes him in his arms.The best of men is dying in my arms,And I want power to save him.

Clean.What ho, Pantheus![Runs to him, and takes him in his arms.

The best of men is dying in my arms,

And I want power to save him.

EnterPantheus.

Panth.O heavens! what means this direful object?

Clean.Ask not, with unassisting pity; bow him forward.Rub his numbed temples, while I wipe the sweatFrom his cold clammy face.

Clean.Ask not, with unassisting pity; bow him forward.

Rub his numbed temples, while I wipe the sweat

From his cold clammy face.

Panth.His mounting heartBounces against my hands, as if it wouldThrust off his manly soul.

Panth.His mounting heart

Bounces against my hands, as if it would

Thrust off his manly soul.

Clean.Wrench ope his mouth,While I infuse these sovereign drops, whose powerWill soon recall his wandered sense—[He instills somewhat out of a Vial into his Mouth.

Clean.Wrench ope his mouth,

While I infuse these sovereign drops, whose power

Will soon recall his wandered sense—

[He instills somewhat out of a Vial into his Mouth.

He stirs,And stretches now, and seems to essay his limbs.

He stirs,

And stretches now, and seems to essay his limbs.

Cleom.Where am I?[Standing a while; they support him.

Clean.In his arms, who died with you,And, now you live, revives.

Clean.In his arms, who died with you,

And, now you live, revives.

Cleom.Art thou Pantheus?

Panth.Believe your eyes, I am.

Cleom.Speak then, and truly, (for I trust not him,)Who brought me back to life?

Cleom.Speak then, and truly, (for I trust not him,)

Who brought me back to life?

Panth.Who, but he, who was left single with you,Who caught you, falling, in his faithful arms;And, not alone sufficient to restore you,Called loud for my assistance.I found him, propping you with trembling hands;His eyes so hagard, I could scarce distinguishWho was the living friend, and who the dead.

Panth.Who, but he, who was left single with you,

Who caught you, falling, in his faithful arms;

And, not alone sufficient to restore you,

Called loud for my assistance.

I found him, propping you with trembling hands;

His eyes so hagard, I could scarce distinguish

Who was the living friend, and who the dead.

Cleom.All this, Cleanthes! This, what this Cleanthes?

Panth.Yes, your Cleanthes.

Clean.Your suspected friend,Much wronged, but ever faithful.

Clean.Your suspected friend,

Much wronged, but ever faithful.

Cleom.Art thou sureI live? Or am I in the regions of the dead,And hear the fables there, myself a fable?

Cleom.Art thou sure

I live? Or am I in the regions of the dead,

And hear the fables there, myself a fable?

Panth.Go in, and see your chearful familyEating his bread, brought in their last distress;And, with a good mistaking piety,First blessing him, then heaven.

Panth.Go in, and see your chearful family

Eating his bread, brought in their last distress;

And, with a good mistaking piety,

First blessing him, then heaven.

Cleom.When I hear this, I have no need of food;I am restored without it.

Cleom.When I hear this, I have no need of food;

I am restored without it.

Clean.Then, now hear me;How I was forced into this seeming falsehood,To save myself, the only means remainingTo save the man I love beyond myself,And gain a needful credit with Cassandra:And yet even then deceived, and sent far offFor three long days, unknowing of your wants,Not thinking she, who loved, could use you thus.By famishment to——

Clean.Then, now hear me;

How I was forced into this seeming falsehood,

To save myself, the only means remaining

To save the man I love beyond myself,

And gain a needful credit with Cassandra:

And yet even then deceived, and sent far off

For three long days, unknowing of your wants,

Not thinking she, who loved, could use you thus.

By famishment to——

Cleom.O, no more! no more!For now I understand, ere thou canst speak it half:To thee I owed the seizing of my sword,Lest I should fall by odds; my wife's return,All, all to thee; and thou art more than all.Canst thou forgive me? Canst thou, my Cleanthes?Can I deserve thus to grow here once more?[Embracing him.Let me embrace myself quite into thee.

Cleom.O, no more! no more!

For now I understand, ere thou canst speak it half:

To thee I owed the seizing of my sword,

Lest I should fall by odds; my wife's return,

All, all to thee; and thou art more than all.

Canst thou forgive me? Canst thou, my Cleanthes?

Can I deserve thus to grow here once more?[Embracing him.

Let me embrace myself quite into thee.

Clean.Come, come as fiercely as thou wilt, I meet thee;[EmbracesCleom.I close within thee, and am thou again.

Clean.Come, come as fiercely as thou wilt, I meet thee;[EmbracesCleom.

I close within thee, and am thou again.

Panth.Why, this is as it should be.

Cleom.I could not thus have taken to the deathAnother's falsehood, but thine, only thine;For infinitely, infinitely loving,'Twas a wide gap thou mad'st within my bosom,And as my soul rent from me.

Cleom.I could not thus have taken to the death

Another's falsehood, but thine, only thine;

For infinitely, infinitely loving,

'Twas a wide gap thou mad'st within my bosom,

And as my soul rent from me.

Clean.But thy hunger!This violent transport of my reconcilementMakes me forget thy wants; when I embraced thee,Thy spungy body dwindled in my arms,And, like a ghost, fled from me.

Clean.But thy hunger!

This violent transport of my reconcilement

Makes me forget thy wants; when I embraced thee,

Thy spungy body dwindled in my arms,

And, like a ghost, fled from me.

Cleom.I could eat—[Going in.

Now my first appetite of love is served;And that was much the keenest: Let us in,For life looks lovely now, and worth preserving.

Now my first appetite of love is served;

And that was much the keenest: Let us in,

For life looks lovely now, and worth preserving.

Clean.Not that way, friend;It leads you to the women, and the boy.

Clean.Not that way, friend;

It leads you to the women, and the boy.

Cleom.And why must I avoid those tender blessings?

Clean.Even such because they are, you must avoid them.For I must tell you, friend, you have but timeTo snatch a hasty morsel, and away:Nothing of manhood must be clogged, or softened,With womanish sighs and tears, and kind adieus,And those ill-timed remorses of good nature,When your whole soul is needful.

Clean.Even such because they are, you must avoid them.

For I must tell you, friend, you have but time

To snatch a hasty morsel, and away:

Nothing of manhood must be clogged, or softened,

With womanish sighs and tears, and kind adieus,

And those ill-timed remorses of good nature,

When your whole soul is needful.

Panth.You tell us wonders!

Clean.At the king's return,Which daily we expect, your death's resolved.This hour's your own; take it, and tempt your fortuneSome few brave friends I hope to add;If not, all Egypt's numbered in myself.

Clean.At the king's return,

Which daily we expect, your death's resolved.

This hour's your own; take it, and tempt your fortune

Some few brave friends I hope to add;

If not, all Egypt's numbered in myself.

Cleom.I'm all on fire.—Now for a lucky pullAt fate's last lottery!I long to see the colour, white or black:That's the gods' work; and if I fall their shame,Let them ne'er think of making heroes more,If cowards must prevail.

Cleom.I'm all on fire.—Now for a lucky pull

At fate's last lottery!

I long to see the colour, white or black:

That's the gods' work; and if I fall their shame,

Let them ne'er think of making heroes more,

If cowards must prevail.

Panth.The fewer hands,The fewer partners in the share of honour.

Panth.The fewer hands,

The fewer partners in the share of honour.

Cleom.Come, my Pantheus;—lead, my best Cleanthes!We three to all the world.

Cleom.Come, my Pantheus;—lead, my best Cleanthes!

We three to all the world.

Clean.Magas, and liberty, let be the word:Magas is loved, and liberty desired.A short refection waits at the lieutenant's,That honest friend, who sent you back your wife.We'll drink a bowl of wine, and pour the rest,Not to the dog Anubis, but to Jove,The freer and avenger.[Exeunt.

Clean.Magas, and liberty, let be the word:

Magas is loved, and liberty desired.

A short refection waits at the lieutenant's,

That honest friend, who sent you back your wife.

We'll drink a bowl of wine, and pour the rest,

Not to the dog Anubis, but to Jove,

The freer and avenger.[Exeunt.

EnterCratesiclea,Cleora,Cleonidas.

Cleor.Gone, and without taking leave!

Crat.The better.He bated me the forms, and you the fondness.

Crat.The better.

He bated me the forms, and you the fondness.

Cleon.Pantheus, too, and he, who brought the food,The brave Egyptian, vanished altogether.

Cleon.Pantheus, too, and he, who brought the food,

The brave Egyptian, vanished altogether.

Cleor.Oh, my foreboding soul! he's gone to death!And that Cleanthes, whom thou call'st the brave,Has basely trained him to his destruction!

Cleor.Oh, my foreboding soul! he's gone to death!

And that Cleanthes, whom thou call'st the brave,

Has basely trained him to his destruction!

Crat.Suspect him not; when fate was in his power,And by a method so secure as famine,To save us then, shows he had little needTo trick my son to death.I have a better prospect of the event.

Crat.Suspect him not; when fate was in his power,

And by a method so secure as famine,

To save us then, shows he had little need

To trick my son to death.

I have a better prospect of the event.

Cleor.Dear mother! comfort me, and tell your thoughts;For I see nothing but a gathering tempest,Horror on horror, to the end of heaven!

Cleor.Dear mother! comfort me, and tell your thoughts;

For I see nothing but a gathering tempest,

Horror on horror, to the end of heaven!

Crat.No, no; you are not of a soul to bearThe mighty good and ill, that meet midway,As from two goals; and which comes first upon us,Fate only knows.

Crat.No, no; you are not of a soul to bear

The mighty good and ill, that meet midway,

As from two goals; and which comes first upon us,

Fate only knows.

Cleon.Then speak to me, for I can stand the shock;Like a young plant, that fastens in a storm,And deeper drives the root.

Cleon.Then speak to me, for I can stand the shock;

Like a young plant, that fastens in a storm,

And deeper drives the root.

Crat.Thy soul's too strong; thy body yet too weak,To bear the crush. Be still, and wait thy doom.[A cry within:Liberty, liberty! Magas, Magas!To arms for Magas, and for liberty!

Crat.Thy soul's too strong; thy body yet too weak,

To bear the crush. Be still, and wait thy doom.

[A cry within:Liberty, liberty! Magas, Magas!

To arms for Magas, and for liberty!

Cleon.What noble sound was that, so smart and vigorous,A soul in every word?

Cleon.What noble sound was that, so smart and vigorous,

A soul in every word?

Crat.Why, that was it,I thought was doing; but I durst not tell,Till now it shows itself.The work's begun, my boy; the work's begun;There was thy father in that warlike shout,Stemming the tide of Egypt.

Crat.Why, that was it,

I thought was doing; but I durst not tell,

Till now it shows itself.

The work's begun, my boy; the work's begun;

There was thy father in that warlike shout,

Stemming the tide of Egypt.

Cleor.O comfort me, my husband's mother! say,My lord may live and conquer!

Cleor.O comfort me, my husband's mother! say,

My lord may live and conquer!

Crat.Possibly;But still make sure of death; trust we to that,As to our last reserve.

Crat.Possibly;

But still make sure of death; trust we to that,

As to our last reserve.

Cleor.Alas! I dare not die.

Crat.Come, come, you dare:Do not belye your courage.

Crat.Come, come, you dare:

Do not belye your courage.

Cleor.Heaven help me, I have none.

Crat.Then dare you be a slave to base Egyptians?For that must be, if you outlive your husband.

Crat.Then dare you be a slave to base Egyptians?

For that must be, if you outlive your husband.

Cleor.I think, I durst, to save myself from death.

Crat.Then, as a slave, you durst be ravished too?

Cleor.The Gods forbid!

Crat.The Gods cannot forbid itBy any way but death.

Crat.The Gods cannot forbid it

By any way but death.

Cleor.Then I dare die.

Crat.I told you so; you did not know your virtue.Poor trembling thing, I'll warm thee in my bosom,And make thee take death kindly.[Another Shout within—Liberty and Magas!

Crat.I told you so; you did not know your virtue.

Poor trembling thing, I'll warm thee in my bosom,

And make thee take death kindly.

[Another Shout within—Liberty and Magas!

Cleon.What must become of me?

Crat.More trouble yet about this paltry being?For shame, no more such qualms!

Crat.More trouble yet about this paltry being?

For shame, no more such qualms!

Cleon.No more such vile mistakes! I would die warm,And not in women's company, but men's.Whether some god inspires me to this act,Or fate inevitably calls me on,I will not, cannot stay:But, as a generous, unfleshed hound, that hearsFrom far the hunters' horn and chearful cry,So will I haste; and, by the music led,Come up with death or honour.[Exit.

Cleon.No more such vile mistakes! I would die warm,

And not in women's company, but men's.

Whether some god inspires me to this act,

Or fate inevitably calls me on,

I will not, cannot stay:

But, as a generous, unfleshed hound, that hears

From far the hunters' horn and chearful cry,

So will I haste; and, by the music led,

Come up with death or honour.[Exit.

Cleor.Stop him, dear mother; he may comfort us,But cannot help his father.

Cleor.Stop him, dear mother; he may comfort us,

But cannot help his father.

Crat.The hero's blood is not to be controuled;Even in a child 'tis madly masterful.But wait we patient with our petty stakes,Which on those greater gamesters must depend;For, as they throw, our little lots must follow,Like sweepings of their heap.[Crat.andCleorago in. Trumpets; a Shout within—Liberty, Liberty, and Magas!

Crat.The hero's blood is not to be controuled;

Even in a child 'tis madly masterful.

But wait we patient with our petty stakes,

Which on those greater gamesters must depend;

For, as they throw, our little lots must follow,

Like sweepings of their heap.

[Crat.andCleorago in. Trumpets; a Shout within—Liberty, Liberty, and Magas!

EnterCleomenes,Cleanthes,Pantheus,followed by some few Egyptians.

Cleom.What, is this populous city turned a desert?The cry of "Liberty" runs on before us,And yet none appears!By Hercules, we drive them through their town:They dare not stay to welcome their deliverers.

Cleom.What, is this populous city turned a desert?

The cry of "Liberty" runs on before us,

And yet none appears!

By Hercules, we drive them through their town:

They dare not stay to welcome their deliverers.

Clean.The cowards are afraid of what they wish;And, could they be their own, they would be ours.

Clean.The cowards are afraid of what they wish;

And, could they be their own, they would be ours.

Cleom.They're gone; we talk to houses and to walls.

Panth.Not so; I see some peeping from their doors.—What are you? friends, or foes?

Panth.Not so; I see some peeping from their doors.—

What are you? friends, or foes?

Four Egyptians appear, peeping from the opposite Entrances of the Stage.

1 Egypt.Friends, friends; all honest men,And hearty to the cause.

1 Egypt.Friends, friends; all honest men,

And hearty to the cause.

Clean.Explain what cause; and give the general cry.

1 and 2 Egypt.Liberty and Magas.

Cleom.[In their Tone.]Liberty and Magas!The cowards whisper liberty so softly,As if they were afraid the gods would hear it,And take them at their word.

Cleom.[In their Tone.]Liberty and Magas!

The cowards whisper liberty so softly,

As if they were afraid the gods would hear it,

And take them at their word.

1 Egypt.No, friend: We vulgar never fear thegods; but we whisper, for fear our o'erthwartneighbours should hear us cry, Liberty, and betrayus to the government.

1 Egypt.No, friend: We vulgar never fear the

gods; but we whisper, for fear our o'erthwart

neighbours should hear us cry, Liberty, and betray

us to the government.

Clean.Of what side are you there?[To the opposite Egyptian.

3 Egypt.That's according as you succeed: of your side hitherto.Panth.If you are men, come join with us.4 Egypt.You are too few for us to join with you; but get the greater party of your side, and we'll be sure to help the common cry.Cleom.Dare you do nothing to assert your freedom?3 Egypt.Yes,—we'll pray devoutly for you.Clean.The brave pray with their swords; that's a man's part.4 Egypt.Praying with our swords, the law calls fighting; and fighting is bloodshed; and bloodshed is hanging; and hanging is the part of a dog, and not of a man, in my opinion.1 Egypt.Every one for himself.[Egyptian Trumpets within.

3 Egypt.That's according as you succeed: of your side hitherto.

Panth.If you are men, come join with us.

4 Egypt.You are too few for us to join with you; but get the greater party of your side, and we'll be sure to help the common cry.

Cleom.Dare you do nothing to assert your freedom?

3 Egypt.Yes,—we'll pray devoutly for you.

Clean.The brave pray with their swords; that's a man's part.

4 Egypt.Praying with our swords, the law calls fighting; and fighting is bloodshed; and bloodshed is hanging; and hanging is the part of a dog, and not of a man, in my opinion.

1 Egypt.Every one for himself.[Egyptian Trumpets within.

The government is a coming.[They shrink back in a Fright, and clap the Doors.Clean.Run! couch, you cowards, to your tyrant lords.A dog you worship, and partake his nature;A race of speaking spaniels.Panth.Let them go; we'll do our work without them.Clean.The comfort is, our foes are like our friends;Holiday heroes, drawn out once a month,At public charge, to eat, and to be drunk;Mere mouths of war.

The government is a coming.[They shrink back in a Fright, and clap the Doors.

Clean.Run! couch, you cowards, to your tyrant lords.A dog you worship, and partake his nature;A race of speaking spaniels.

Clean.Run! couch, you cowards, to your tyrant lords.

A dog you worship, and partake his nature;

A race of speaking spaniels.

Panth.Let them go; we'll do our work without them.

Clean.The comfort is, our foes are like our friends;Holiday heroes, drawn out once a month,At public charge, to eat, and to be drunk;Mere mouths of war.

Clean.The comfort is, our foes are like our friends;

Holiday heroes, drawn out once a month,

At public charge, to eat, and to be drunk;

Mere mouths of war.

EnterSosibiusandCœnus,at the Head of many Egyptians: They, who spoke before, bolt out of their Doors, and join with them.

Sosib.'Twas what I always feared,—even when I saved thee,—To find thee thus engaged among my foes:But yet, submit; and I can yet forgive thee.Consider,—for 'tis all I've time to say,—Thou fight'st against thy father.Clean.Against my father's cause, but not my father:If you would needs become yourself a slave,And get me such, I must redeem us both,And will, or perish in the brave attempt.Sosib.Withdraw thyself from ruin, I command thee.Clean.Command I cannot; but I beg you, sir,Engage not for an arbitrary power,That odious weight upon a free-born soul.Sosib.This is too much.—Fall on, but spare my son.EnterCassandra,attended.Cas.Sosibius, hold! Withdraw your men to distance.You know this signet: Obey your king in me.[Shews the Signet.Sosib.Never more gladly; though my son's a rebel,Yet nature works to save him.Cas.Then rather than he should untimely fall,[Cœnusdraws offSosibius'sMen.I would forgive the rest, and offer lifeEven to that fugitive, if he please to treat.Cleom.Be short; and, if you can, for once, sincere.Cas.What can you hope from this unequal fight,Where numbers rise from every foe you kill,And grow from their defeat?Cleom.We come resolved;And to die killing, is a kind of conquest.Cas.But are not life and freedom worth accepting,When offered; and, with such conditions too,As make them both more pleasing? Your friend's safety,Your son, your mother, and that only sheWho loves you best, for your companion home:—You know what she I mean.[Aside to him.Cleom.No private parley;[Stepping back.Spartans do all in public.Clean.We know your reasons for these secret whispers;And to your infamy—Cleom.[Aside to him.]Peace, peace, my friend.No injuries from women can provokeA man of honour to expose their fame.—Madam, we understand each other well:My son, my mother, and my wife restored,'Tis peace; if not, 'tis war.Sosib.A fair proposal: Be it peace.Cas.No, fool! 'tis war.—Know, heavy hero, know,I gained this time for my secure revenge;To seize thy wife and mother: and, to stab theeOn both sides of thy heart, they're gone to die,To make thy death more painful. Farewell, traitor!And thank thyself, not me.[Ex.Cas.andSosib.Cleom.Revenge, revenge,And speedy death, or conquest!—Hold, Cleanthes!EnterCleonicas.Poor boy!By heaven, I'm pleased to see thee safe this moment,Though I expect the next to lose thee.—Guard him,Cleanthes: Set him safe behind the front.Clean.Come, sir, you are now my charge.Cleon.The gods forbidThat I should seek this danger, and not share it.—[ToCleon.]Forgive me, sir, that once I disobey you,To prove myself your son; living, or dying,I'll not be less than man.Cleom.Oh! I could chide thee;But there's no time for love and anger both.Fight by my side; and heaven protect thy courage.

Sosib.'Twas what I always feared,—even when I saved thee,—

To find thee thus engaged among my foes:

But yet, submit; and I can yet forgive thee.

Consider,—for 'tis all I've time to say,—

Thou fight'st against thy father.

Clean.Against my father's cause, but not my father:If you would needs become yourself a slave,And get me such, I must redeem us both,And will, or perish in the brave attempt.

Clean.Against my father's cause, but not my father:

If you would needs become yourself a slave,

And get me such, I must redeem us both,

And will, or perish in the brave attempt.

Sosib.Withdraw thyself from ruin, I command thee.

Clean.Command I cannot; but I beg you, sir,Engage not for an arbitrary power,That odious weight upon a free-born soul.

Clean.Command I cannot; but I beg you, sir,

Engage not for an arbitrary power,

That odious weight upon a free-born soul.

Sosib.This is too much.—Fall on, but spare my son.

EnterCassandra,attended.

Cas.Sosibius, hold! Withdraw your men to distance.You know this signet: Obey your king in me.[Shews the Signet.

Cas.Sosibius, hold! Withdraw your men to distance.

You know this signet: Obey your king in me.[Shews the Signet.

Sosib.Never more gladly; though my son's a rebel,Yet nature works to save him.

Sosib.Never more gladly; though my son's a rebel,

Yet nature works to save him.

Cas.Then rather than he should untimely fall,[Cœnusdraws offSosibius'sMen.I would forgive the rest, and offer lifeEven to that fugitive, if he please to treat.

Cas.Then rather than he should untimely fall,

[Cœnusdraws offSosibius'sMen.

I would forgive the rest, and offer life

Even to that fugitive, if he please to treat.

Cleom.Be short; and, if you can, for once, sincere.

Cas.What can you hope from this unequal fight,Where numbers rise from every foe you kill,And grow from their defeat?

Cas.What can you hope from this unequal fight,

Where numbers rise from every foe you kill,

And grow from their defeat?

Cleom.We come resolved;And to die killing, is a kind of conquest.

Cleom.We come resolved;

And to die killing, is a kind of conquest.

Cas.But are not life and freedom worth accepting,When offered; and, with such conditions too,As make them both more pleasing? Your friend's safety,Your son, your mother, and that only sheWho loves you best, for your companion home:—You know what she I mean.[Aside to him.

Cas.But are not life and freedom worth accepting,

When offered; and, with such conditions too,

As make them both more pleasing? Your friend's safety,

Your son, your mother, and that only she

Who loves you best, for your companion home:—

You know what she I mean.[Aside to him.

Cleom.No private parley;[Stepping back.Spartans do all in public.

Cleom.No private parley;[Stepping back.

Spartans do all in public.

Clean.We know your reasons for these secret whispers;And to your infamy—

Clean.We know your reasons for these secret whispers;

And to your infamy—

Cleom.[Aside to him.]Peace, peace, my friend.No injuries from women can provokeA man of honour to expose their fame.—Madam, we understand each other well:My son, my mother, and my wife restored,'Tis peace; if not, 'tis war.

Cleom.[Aside to him.]Peace, peace, my friend.

No injuries from women can provoke

A man of honour to expose their fame.—

Madam, we understand each other well:

My son, my mother, and my wife restored,

'Tis peace; if not, 'tis war.

Sosib.A fair proposal: Be it peace.

Cas.No, fool! 'tis war.—Know, heavy hero, know,I gained this time for my secure revenge;To seize thy wife and mother: and, to stab theeOn both sides of thy heart, they're gone to die,To make thy death more painful. Farewell, traitor!And thank thyself, not me.[Ex.Cas.andSosib.

Cas.No, fool! 'tis war.—Know, heavy hero, know,

I gained this time for my secure revenge;

To seize thy wife and mother: and, to stab thee

On both sides of thy heart, they're gone to die,

To make thy death more painful. Farewell, traitor!

And thank thyself, not me.[Ex.Cas.andSosib.

Cleom.Revenge, revenge,And speedy death, or conquest!—Hold, Cleanthes!

Cleom.Revenge, revenge,

And speedy death, or conquest!—Hold, Cleanthes!

EnterCleonicas.

Poor boy!By heaven, I'm pleased to see thee safe this moment,Though I expect the next to lose thee.—Guard him,Cleanthes: Set him safe behind the front.

Poor boy!

By heaven, I'm pleased to see thee safe this moment,

Though I expect the next to lose thee.—Guard him,

Cleanthes: Set him safe behind the front.

Clean.Come, sir, you are now my charge.

Cleon.The gods forbidThat I should seek this danger, and not share it.—[ToCleon.]Forgive me, sir, that once I disobey you,To prove myself your son; living, or dying,I'll not be less than man.

Cleon.The gods forbid

That I should seek this danger, and not share it.—

[ToCleon.]Forgive me, sir, that once I disobey you,

To prove myself your son; living, or dying,

I'll not be less than man.

Cleom.Oh! I could chide thee;But there's no time for love and anger both.Fight by my side; and heaven protect thy courage.

Cleom.Oh! I could chide thee;

But there's no time for love and anger both.

Fight by my side; and heaven protect thy courage.

[Cleomenes,Cleanthes,Cleonidas,and their Party go off the Stage, to fight the Egyptians. Trumpets, Drums, Shouts, and Clashings within.Re-enter both Parties; the Egyptians first, driven byCleomenes;Pantheusready to killSosibius,as having him down:Cleanthesruns to him and interposes.Clean.Pantheus, hold; or turn thy sword on me.Panth.[ToSosib.]Rise, sir; and thank your son.Clean.[ToPanth.]Pursue the foes: I have no joy of conquest,Till I have set my father safe.Sosib.The gods reward thy pious care.[Cleanthesleads off his Father; whilePantheusfollowsCleomenes:The Egyptians are driven to the bottom of the Stage: They make a wheeling Fight; still retiring beforethe Spartans:Cleomenesadvances eagerly after the Egyptians, and, withPantheus,drives them off:Cleonidasis left behind: So isCœnus,who had skulked.

[Cleomenes,Cleanthes,Cleonidas,and their Party go off the Stage, to fight the Egyptians. Trumpets, Drums, Shouts, and Clashings within.

Re-enter both Parties; the Egyptians first, driven byCleomenes;Pantheusready to killSosibius,as having him down:Cleanthesruns to him and interposes.

Clean.Pantheus, hold; or turn thy sword on me.

Panth.[ToSosib.]Rise, sir; and thank your son.

Clean.[ToPanth.]Pursue the foes: I have no joy of conquest,Till I have set my father safe.

Sosib.The gods reward thy pious care.

[Cleanthesleads off his Father; whilePantheusfollowsCleomenes:The Egyptians are driven to the bottom of the Stage: They make a wheeling Fight; still retiring beforethe Spartans:Cleomenesadvances eagerly after the Egyptians, and, withPantheus,drives them off:Cleonidasis left behind: So isCœnus,who had skulked.

Cœnus.This was well watched: The boy is left unguarded.[Thrusts atCleon.behind.Cleon.Oh! I am slain by treason!Revenge me, royal father.Re-enterCleomenes.Cleom.'Twas sure his voice:—[Sees him on the ground.Too sure!—Pity and rageDistract my soul: But rage will first be served.[Runs atCœnus,and kills him.There's justice for myself, and for my son!—Look up, sweet boy,And tell me that thou livest.Cleon.Fain I would live,To comfort you! I bleed, and am ashamedTo say I faint, and call myself your son.—O traitor Cœnus! What's become of him?Cleom.Look, there he lies.Cleon.I am glad on't:—Forgive me, heaven: I hope 'tis no offenceTo say I am glad, because he killed me basely.—Still I grow fainter: Hold me, hold me, father.Cleom.Chear up, and thou shalt live.Cleon.No; I am just dying.Cleom.What shall I lose?Cleon.A boy; that's all. I might have lived to manhood;But once I must have died.Cleom.But not before thy father.Cleon.Nay, then you envy me, that I'm first happy.I go; and, when you come, pray find me out,And own me for your son![Dies.Cleom.There went his soul!—Fate, thou hast done thy worst,And all thou canst henceforth is but mean slaughter,The gleanings of this harvest.EnterPantheus.Panth.Sir, you're well found. Our enemies are fled:I left our men pursuing, and made hasteTo bring this joyful news.Cleom.Look there, and, if thou darest, now give me joy.Panth.Enough: you've stopped my mouth.—What? Cœnus killed?I ask no questions then of who killed who;The bodies tell their story as they lie.Haste, and revenge!Cleom.Where are our enemies?Panth.Sculking, dispersed in garrets, and in cellars.EnterCleanthes.Cleom.Not worth the seeking. Are these fit to atoneFor Cleomenes' mother, son, and wife?But what the gods have left us, we must take.Clean.'Tis all in vain: we have no further work.The people will not be dragged out to freedom;They bar their doors against it. Nay, the prisonersEven guard their chains, as their inheritance,And man their very dungeons for their masters,Lest godlike liberty, the common foe,Should enter in, and they be judged hereafterAccomplices of freedom.Panth.Then we may sheath our swords.Clean.We may, Pantheus;But, as brave men should, each in his bosom;That only way is left us to die free.Cleom.All's lost for which I once desired to live.Panth.Come to our business then. Be speedy, sir,And give the word; I'll be the first, to chargeThe grim foe, death.Cleom.Fortune, thou hast reduced me very low,To do the drudgery of fate myself.What! not one brave Egyptian! not one worthyTo do me manly right in single combat!To fall beneath my fury?—for that's justice:But then to drag me after:—for, to die,And yet in death to conquer, is my wish.Clean.Then have your wish: The gods at last are kind,And have provided you a sword that's worthyTo match your own: 'Tis an Egyptian's too.Cleom.Is there that hidden treasure in thy country?The gods be praised, for such a foe I want.Clean.Not such a foe, but such a friend am I.I would fall first, for fear I should survive you,And pull you after to make sure in death,To be your undivided friend for ever.Cleom.Then enter we into each other's breasts,'Tis a sharp passage, yet a kind one too.But, to prevent the blind mistake of swords,Lest one drop first, and leave his friend behind,Both thrust at once, and home, and at our hearts:Let neither stand on guard, but let our bosomsLie open to each other in our death,As in our life they were.[Kiss and embrace.Clean.I seal it thus.Panth.And where's my part? You shut me out, like churls,While you devour the feast of death betwixt you.Cleom.Cheer up thy soul, and thou shalt die, Pantheus,But in thy turn; there's death enough for all.But, as I am thy master, wait my leisure,And honestly compose my limbs to rest,Then serve thyself.—Now, are you ready, friend?Clean.I am.Cleom.Then this to our next happy meeting.[They both push together, then stagger backwards, and fall together in each other's Arms.Clean.Speak, have I served you to your wish, my friend?Cleom.Yes, friend——thou hast——I have thee in my heart——Say——art thou sped?Clean.I am,—'tis my last breath.Cleom.And mine——then both are happy.[Both die.Panth.So, this was well performed, and soon dispatched;Both sound asleep already,[Trumpets sound Victory within.And farewell both for one short moment.Those are the foes; our little band is lostFor want of these defenders. I must hasten,Lest I be forced to live, and led in triumph,Defrauded of my fate. I've earned it well,And finished all my task: This is my place,Just at my master's feet.—Guard him, ye gods,And save his sacred corpse from public shame.[He falls on his Sword, and lies at the foot ofCleomenes.—Dies.EnterSosibius,Cassandra,and Egyptians.Sosib.'Twas what my heart foreboded: There he lies,Extended by the man whom best he loved!A better friend than son.Cas.What's he, or thou? or Ptolemy? or Egypt?Or all the world, to Cleomenes lost?Sosib.Then I suspected right. If my revengeCan ease my sorrow, this the king shall know,That thou may'st reap the due reward of treason,And violated love.Cas.Thy worst, old dotard.I wish to die; but if my mind should change,So well I know my power, that thou art lost.Sosib.The king's arrival shall decide our fate.—Mean time, to show how much I honour virtue,Take up that hero's body, bear it high,Like the procession of a deity:Let his armed figure on his tomb be set,And we, like slaves, lie grovelling at his feet,Whose glories growing till his latest breath,Excelled all others, and his own in death.[Exeunt.EPILOGUE,SPOKEN BY MRS BRACEGIRDLE.This day, the Poet, bloodily inclined,Has made me die, full sore against my mind!Some of you naughty men, I fear, will cry,Poor rogue! would I might teach thee how to die!Thanks for your love; but I sincerely say,I never mean to die, your wicked way.Well, since it is decreed all flesh must go,(And I am flesh,—at least for aught you know)I first declare, I die with pious mind,In perfect charity with all mankind.Next for my will:——I have, in my dispose,Some certain moveables would please you beaux;As, first, my youth; for, as I have been told,Some of you modish sparks are devilish old.My chastity I need not leave among ye;For, to suspect old fops, were much to wrong ye.You swear you're sinners; but for all your haste,Your misses shake their heads, and find you chaste.I give my courage to those bold commanders,Who stay with us, and dare not go for Flanders.I leave my truth (to make his plot more clear)To Mr Fuller, when he next shall swear[45].I give my judgment, craving all your mercies,To those that leave good plays, for damned dull farces.My small devotion let the gallants share,That come to ogle us at evening prayer.I give my person——let me well consider,——Faith e'en to him that is the fairest bidder;To some rich hunks, if any be so boldTo say those dreadful words,To have and hold.But stay—to give, and be bequeathing still,When I'm so poor, is just like Wickham's will:Like that notorious cheat, vast sums I give,Only that you may keep me while I live[46].Buy a good bargain, gallants, while you may;I'll cost you but your half-a-crown a day.LOVE TRIUMPHANT:ORNATURE WILL PREVAIL.ATRAGI-COMEDY.——Quod optanti Divûm promittere nemoAuderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultrò.Virg.LOVE TRIUMPHANT.This piece, which concluded our author's labours as a dramatic poet, was unsuccessful when represented, and affords very little pleasure when perused. If we except "Amboyna," our author never produced a play, where the tragic part had less interest, or the comic less humour. For the faults of "Amboyna," Dryden pleaded the barren nature of the subject, chosen not with a view to dramatic effect, but to attain a political purpose, and the hurry of writing upon a temporary theme. But that he should have failed, in a play avowedly intended to crown his dramatic labours, where the story was of his own device, and the composition at his own leisure, can only be imputed to that occasional flatness, or cessation of the divine influence, as an ancient would have expressed it, from which men of the highest poetic genius are not exempted. In despite of all cold reasoning upon this subject, the fact is irresistible, that our capacity of exerting mental talents, is not more absolute than that which we possess over our bodily powers. We are in each case limited by a thousand external and internal circumstances, which occasion the greatest and most involuntary inequalities, between our happier and our inferior efforts, of mental abilities or of corporeal strength. It can only be to the temporary failure of the poetic inspiration, which, like the wind of heaven, bloweth where it listeth, and neither to want of labour, nor to impaired talents, that we are to attribute the inferiority of "Love Triumphant," to almost all Dryden's other compositions.The plot is unhappily chosen. For, as we have had already occasion to notice, stories turning, or appearing to turn, upon incestuous passion, have seldom been successful upon the modern stage[47]. Davies, in his "Dramatic Miscellanies," attributes Garrick's renouncing his intentionof reviving the admirable old play of "King and no King," to the ardent passion which Arbaces conceives for his supposed sister; and which that excellent judge suspected would not be tolerated in our age. "Phædra and Hippolitus," though most powerfully supported, both by actors and admirers, failed for the same reason; and, according to Davies, even the various excellencies of "Don Sebastian" were unable to expiate the disgust, excited by the unpleasing discovery of his relation to Almeyda. While "Love Triumphant" labours under this capital and disagreeable defect, little ingenuity can be discovered in the story, abstracted from that consideration. The king of Castile suffers his sole and only offspring to remain in the court of a rival and hostile monarch, and even to head armies against him, supposing himself the son of his enemy. The virtuous Queen of Arragon cultivates and encourages a passion, having all the moral guilt of an incestuous attachment, between her own daughter and her supposed son. The tyrant Veramond is the only person who acts upon rational principles through the piece. He refuses the liberty of a rival king to the petulant demand of Alphonso; and not very unreasonably proposes to separate his son and daughter, before worse consequences arose from their infamous and impudently avowed passion. But by this very natural conduct, he gains the hatred of his wife, his children, and his subjects:Miranda canit, sed non credenda, poeta.After so many and such violent stretches of probability, the author does not deign to wind up the plot, otherwise than by a sudden change in the temper and resolutions of Veramond, a conclusion which he himself admits in general to be grossly inartificial, and which in the present case is peculiarly infelicitous. The ruling passion of Veramond seems to be a hatred of his rival Ramirez, and a sort of instinctive antipathy to Alphonso, even when he believes him to be his own son, just arrived from conquest in his behalf. This hatred and aversion was not likely to be abated, by the objects of them turning out to be father and son; nor much soothed, by the circumstance of their making him prisoner in his own metropolis. Yet, in this situation, moved by a few soft speeches from Celidea, who had taken a fancy to the intended husband of her sister, the tyrant of Arragon alters his whole family arrangements, and habits of mind; and takes his hated foes into his family and bosom, merely that the play may be concluded. The author of these inconsistencies can hardly escape the censure of Aristotle, against which he has pleaded in the preface.With regard to the poetry of "Love Triumphant," it is somewhat remarkable, that, in the most laboured scenes of this last effortof his tragic muse, Dryden has had recourse to his discarded mistress, Rhyme. As this could hardly arise from an alteration of his final opinion, it may have been owing to a consciousness, that there was some deficiency in the piece, which the harmony of numbers might veil, though it could not supply. The turn of the dialogue, also, is quite in our poet's early manner. The lovers, in the first scene of the second act, burning with a horrible passion, which they felt it death to conceal, and infamy and mortal sin to avow, communicate their feelings to each other in alternate couplets, like two contending Arcadians. Their horror evaporates in antithesis, and their passion in quaint prettinesses. Witness the speech of Alphonso:Alph.Oh raging, impious, and yet hopeless fire!Not daring to possess what I desire;Condemn'd to suffer what I cannot bear;Tortur'd with love, and furious with despair.Of all the pains which wretched mortals prove,The fewest remedies belong to love:But ours has none; for if we should enjoy,Our fatal cure must both of us destroy.Oh dear Victoria, cause of all my pain!Oh dear Victoria, whom I would not gain!Victoria, for whose sake I would survive:Victoria, for whose sake I dare not live.If the tragic part of "Love Triumphant" have little merit, the comic has even less. The absurdity of the two gallants disguising themselves, in hopes to pass for the deceased Conde upon a mistress, who had borne him two children, is too gross for a puppet-show, or pantomime; and there is nothing in the dialogue to attone for the flatness, and extravagance of the plot. It may, however, be remarked, that Sancho, a tawdry and conceited coxcomb, the son of a Jewish usurer, and favoured by the father of his mistress, only for his wealth, has some resemblance in manners and genealogy to a much more pleasant character, that of Isaac in the "Duenna."It is impossible to dismiss a performance of Dryden, without some tribute of praise. The verse, where it is employed, possesses, as usual, all the dignity which numbers can give to language; and the Song upon Jealousy, as well as that in the character of a Girl, have superior merit.The play was received as ill as might be; so at least we are informed by a curious letter, preserved by Mr Malone, dated 22d March 1693-4, in which the writer, after chuckling over the failure of the "Double Dealer," and the absolute damnation of "Love Triumphant," concludes, that the success of Southerne's "Fatal Marriage" will encourage the minor poets, "and vex huffingDryden, and Congreve, to madness[48]." Dryden himself, it may be noticed, says nothing in the preface concerning the reception of the piece: all authorities, however, state it to have been unfavourable; and thus, as Dr Johnson has remarked, this great poet opened and closed his theatrical career with bad success; a fact, which may secure the inexperienced author from despondence, and teach him who has gained reputation, how little he ought to presume on its stability."Love Triumphant" was first acted and published in 1693-4.

Cœnus.This was well watched: The boy is left unguarded.[Thrusts atCleon.behind.

Cœnus.This was well watched: The boy is left unguarded.

[Thrusts atCleon.behind.

Cleon.Oh! I am slain by treason!Revenge me, royal father.

Cleon.Oh! I am slain by treason!

Revenge me, royal father.

Re-enterCleomenes.

Cleom.'Twas sure his voice:—[Sees him on the ground.Too sure!—Pity and rageDistract my soul: But rage will first be served.[Runs atCœnus,and kills him.There's justice for myself, and for my son!—Look up, sweet boy,And tell me that thou livest.

Cleom.'Twas sure his voice:—[Sees him on the ground.

Too sure!—Pity and rage

Distract my soul: But rage will first be served.[Runs atCœnus,and kills him.

There's justice for myself, and for my son!—

Look up, sweet boy,

And tell me that thou livest.

Cleon.Fain I would live,To comfort you! I bleed, and am ashamedTo say I faint, and call myself your son.—O traitor Cœnus! What's become of him?

Cleon.Fain I would live,

To comfort you! I bleed, and am ashamed

To say I faint, and call myself your son.—

O traitor Cœnus! What's become of him?

Cleom.Look, there he lies.

Cleon.I am glad on't:—Forgive me, heaven: I hope 'tis no offenceTo say I am glad, because he killed me basely.—Still I grow fainter: Hold me, hold me, father.

Cleon.I am glad on't:—

Forgive me, heaven: I hope 'tis no offence

To say I am glad, because he killed me basely.—

Still I grow fainter: Hold me, hold me, father.

Cleom.Chear up, and thou shalt live.

Cleon.No; I am just dying.

Cleom.What shall I lose?

Cleon.A boy; that's all. I might have lived to manhood;But once I must have died.

Cleon.A boy; that's all. I might have lived to manhood;

But once I must have died.

Cleom.But not before thy father.

Cleon.Nay, then you envy me, that I'm first happy.I go; and, when you come, pray find me out,And own me for your son![Dies.

Cleon.Nay, then you envy me, that I'm first happy.

I go; and, when you come, pray find me out,

And own me for your son![Dies.

Cleom.There went his soul!—Fate, thou hast done thy worst,And all thou canst henceforth is but mean slaughter,The gleanings of this harvest.

Cleom.There went his soul!—Fate, thou hast done thy worst,

And all thou canst henceforth is but mean slaughter,

The gleanings of this harvest.

EnterPantheus.

Panth.Sir, you're well found. Our enemies are fled:I left our men pursuing, and made hasteTo bring this joyful news.

Panth.Sir, you're well found. Our enemies are fled:

I left our men pursuing, and made haste

To bring this joyful news.

Cleom.Look there, and, if thou darest, now give me joy.

Panth.Enough: you've stopped my mouth.—What? Cœnus killed?I ask no questions then of who killed who;The bodies tell their story as they lie.Haste, and revenge!

Panth.Enough: you've stopped my mouth.—What? Cœnus killed?

I ask no questions then of who killed who;

The bodies tell their story as they lie.

Haste, and revenge!

Cleom.Where are our enemies?

Panth.Sculking, dispersed in garrets, and in cellars.

EnterCleanthes.Cleom.Not worth the seeking. Are these fit to atoneFor Cleomenes' mother, son, and wife?But what the gods have left us, we must take.Clean.'Tis all in vain: we have no further work.The people will not be dragged out to freedom;They bar their doors against it. Nay, the prisonersEven guard their chains, as their inheritance,And man their very dungeons for their masters,Lest godlike liberty, the common foe,Should enter in, and they be judged hereafterAccomplices of freedom.Panth.Then we may sheath our swords.Clean.We may, Pantheus;But, as brave men should, each in his bosom;That only way is left us to die free.Cleom.All's lost for which I once desired to live.Panth.Come to our business then. Be speedy, sir,And give the word; I'll be the first, to chargeThe grim foe, death.Cleom.Fortune, thou hast reduced me very low,To do the drudgery of fate myself.What! not one brave Egyptian! not one worthyTo do me manly right in single combat!To fall beneath my fury?—for that's justice:But then to drag me after:—for, to die,And yet in death to conquer, is my wish.Clean.Then have your wish: The gods at last are kind,And have provided you a sword that's worthyTo match your own: 'Tis an Egyptian's too.Cleom.Is there that hidden treasure in thy country?The gods be praised, for such a foe I want.Clean.Not such a foe, but such a friend am I.I would fall first, for fear I should survive you,And pull you after to make sure in death,To be your undivided friend for ever.Cleom.Then enter we into each other's breasts,'Tis a sharp passage, yet a kind one too.But, to prevent the blind mistake of swords,Lest one drop first, and leave his friend behind,Both thrust at once, and home, and at our hearts:Let neither stand on guard, but let our bosomsLie open to each other in our death,As in our life they were.[Kiss and embrace.Clean.I seal it thus.Panth.And where's my part? You shut me out, like churls,While you devour the feast of death betwixt you.Cleom.Cheer up thy soul, and thou shalt die, Pantheus,But in thy turn; there's death enough for all.But, as I am thy master, wait my leisure,And honestly compose my limbs to rest,Then serve thyself.—Now, are you ready, friend?Clean.I am.Cleom.Then this to our next happy meeting.[They both push together, then stagger backwards, and fall together in each other's Arms.Clean.Speak, have I served you to your wish, my friend?Cleom.Yes, friend——thou hast——I have thee in my heart——Say——art thou sped?Clean.I am,—'tis my last breath.Cleom.And mine——then both are happy.[Both die.Panth.So, this was well performed, and soon dispatched;Both sound asleep already,[Trumpets sound Victory within.And farewell both for one short moment.Those are the foes; our little band is lostFor want of these defenders. I must hasten,Lest I be forced to live, and led in triumph,Defrauded of my fate. I've earned it well,And finished all my task: This is my place,Just at my master's feet.—Guard him, ye gods,And save his sacred corpse from public shame.[He falls on his Sword, and lies at the foot ofCleomenes.—Dies.EnterSosibius,Cassandra,and Egyptians.Sosib.'Twas what my heart foreboded: There he lies,Extended by the man whom best he loved!A better friend than son.Cas.What's he, or thou? or Ptolemy? or Egypt?Or all the world, to Cleomenes lost?Sosib.Then I suspected right. If my revengeCan ease my sorrow, this the king shall know,That thou may'st reap the due reward of treason,And violated love.Cas.Thy worst, old dotard.I wish to die; but if my mind should change,So well I know my power, that thou art lost.Sosib.The king's arrival shall decide our fate.—Mean time, to show how much I honour virtue,Take up that hero's body, bear it high,Like the procession of a deity:Let his armed figure on his tomb be set,And we, like slaves, lie grovelling at his feet,Whose glories growing till his latest breath,Excelled all others, and his own in death.[Exeunt.

EnterCleanthes.

Cleom.Not worth the seeking. Are these fit to atoneFor Cleomenes' mother, son, and wife?But what the gods have left us, we must take.

Cleom.Not worth the seeking. Are these fit to atone

For Cleomenes' mother, son, and wife?

But what the gods have left us, we must take.

Clean.'Tis all in vain: we have no further work.The people will not be dragged out to freedom;They bar their doors against it. Nay, the prisonersEven guard their chains, as their inheritance,And man their very dungeons for their masters,Lest godlike liberty, the common foe,Should enter in, and they be judged hereafterAccomplices of freedom.

Clean.'Tis all in vain: we have no further work.

The people will not be dragged out to freedom;

They bar their doors against it. Nay, the prisoners

Even guard their chains, as their inheritance,

And man their very dungeons for their masters,

Lest godlike liberty, the common foe,

Should enter in, and they be judged hereafter

Accomplices of freedom.

Panth.Then we may sheath our swords.

Clean.We may, Pantheus;But, as brave men should, each in his bosom;That only way is left us to die free.

Clean.We may, Pantheus;

But, as brave men should, each in his bosom;

That only way is left us to die free.

Cleom.All's lost for which I once desired to live.

Panth.Come to our business then. Be speedy, sir,And give the word; I'll be the first, to chargeThe grim foe, death.

Panth.Come to our business then. Be speedy, sir,

And give the word; I'll be the first, to charge

The grim foe, death.

Cleom.Fortune, thou hast reduced me very low,To do the drudgery of fate myself.What! not one brave Egyptian! not one worthyTo do me manly right in single combat!To fall beneath my fury?—for that's justice:But then to drag me after:—for, to die,And yet in death to conquer, is my wish.

Cleom.Fortune, thou hast reduced me very low,

To do the drudgery of fate myself.

What! not one brave Egyptian! not one worthy

To do me manly right in single combat!

To fall beneath my fury?—for that's justice:

But then to drag me after:—for, to die,

And yet in death to conquer, is my wish.

Clean.Then have your wish: The gods at last are kind,And have provided you a sword that's worthyTo match your own: 'Tis an Egyptian's too.

Clean.Then have your wish: The gods at last are kind,

And have provided you a sword that's worthy

To match your own: 'Tis an Egyptian's too.

Cleom.Is there that hidden treasure in thy country?The gods be praised, for such a foe I want.

Cleom.Is there that hidden treasure in thy country?

The gods be praised, for such a foe I want.

Clean.Not such a foe, but such a friend am I.I would fall first, for fear I should survive you,And pull you after to make sure in death,To be your undivided friend for ever.

Clean.Not such a foe, but such a friend am I.

I would fall first, for fear I should survive you,

And pull you after to make sure in death,

To be your undivided friend for ever.

Cleom.Then enter we into each other's breasts,'Tis a sharp passage, yet a kind one too.But, to prevent the blind mistake of swords,Lest one drop first, and leave his friend behind,Both thrust at once, and home, and at our hearts:Let neither stand on guard, but let our bosomsLie open to each other in our death,As in our life they were.

Cleom.Then enter we into each other's breasts,

'Tis a sharp passage, yet a kind one too.

But, to prevent the blind mistake of swords,

Lest one drop first, and leave his friend behind,

Both thrust at once, and home, and at our hearts:

Let neither stand on guard, but let our bosoms

Lie open to each other in our death,

As in our life they were.

[Kiss and embrace.Clean.I seal it thus.

Clean.I seal it thus.

Panth.And where's my part? You shut me out, like churls,While you devour the feast of death betwixt you.

Panth.And where's my part? You shut me out, like churls,

While you devour the feast of death betwixt you.

Cleom.Cheer up thy soul, and thou shalt die, Pantheus,But in thy turn; there's death enough for all.But, as I am thy master, wait my leisure,And honestly compose my limbs to rest,Then serve thyself.—Now, are you ready, friend?

Cleom.Cheer up thy soul, and thou shalt die, Pantheus,

But in thy turn; there's death enough for all.

But, as I am thy master, wait my leisure,

And honestly compose my limbs to rest,

Then serve thyself.—Now, are you ready, friend?

Clean.I am.

Cleom.Then this to our next happy meeting.

[They both push together, then stagger backwards, and fall together in each other's Arms.

Clean.Speak, have I served you to your wish, my friend?

Cleom.Yes, friend——thou hast——I have thee in my heart——Say——art thou sped?

Cleom.Yes, friend——thou hast——I have thee in my heart——

Say——art thou sped?

Clean.I am,—'tis my last breath.

Cleom.And mine——then both are happy.[Both die.

Panth.So, this was well performed, and soon dispatched;Both sound asleep already,[Trumpets sound Victory within.And farewell both for one short moment.Those are the foes; our little band is lostFor want of these defenders. I must hasten,Lest I be forced to live, and led in triumph,Defrauded of my fate. I've earned it well,And finished all my task: This is my place,Just at my master's feet.—Guard him, ye gods,And save his sacred corpse from public shame.[He falls on his Sword, and lies at the foot ofCleomenes.—Dies.

Panth.So, this was well performed, and soon dispatched;

Both sound asleep already,

And farewell both for one short moment.

Those are the foes; our little band is lost

For want of these defenders. I must hasten,

Lest I be forced to live, and led in triumph,

Defrauded of my fate. I've earned it well,

And finished all my task: This is my place,

Just at my master's feet.—Guard him, ye gods,

And save his sacred corpse from public shame.

[He falls on his Sword, and lies at the foot ofCleomenes.—Dies.

EnterSosibius,Cassandra,and Egyptians.

Sosib.'Twas what my heart foreboded: There he lies,Extended by the man whom best he loved!A better friend than son.

Sosib.'Twas what my heart foreboded: There he lies,

Extended by the man whom best he loved!

A better friend than son.

Cas.What's he, or thou? or Ptolemy? or Egypt?Or all the world, to Cleomenes lost?

Cas.What's he, or thou? or Ptolemy? or Egypt?

Or all the world, to Cleomenes lost?

Sosib.Then I suspected right. If my revengeCan ease my sorrow, this the king shall know,That thou may'st reap the due reward of treason,And violated love.

Sosib.Then I suspected right. If my revenge

Can ease my sorrow, this the king shall know,

That thou may'st reap the due reward of treason,

And violated love.

Cas.Thy worst, old dotard.I wish to die; but if my mind should change,So well I know my power, that thou art lost.

Cas.Thy worst, old dotard.

I wish to die; but if my mind should change,

So well I know my power, that thou art lost.

Sosib.The king's arrival shall decide our fate.—Mean time, to show how much I honour virtue,Take up that hero's body, bear it high,Like the procession of a deity:Let his armed figure on his tomb be set,And we, like slaves, lie grovelling at his feet,Whose glories growing till his latest breath,Excelled all others, and his own in death.[Exeunt.

Sosib.The king's arrival shall decide our fate.—

Mean time, to show how much I honour virtue,

Take up that hero's body, bear it high,

Like the procession of a deity:

Let his armed figure on his tomb be set,

And we, like slaves, lie grovelling at his feet,

Whose glories growing till his latest breath,

Excelled all others, and his own in death.[Exeunt.

SPOKEN BY MRS BRACEGIRDLE.

This day, the Poet, bloodily inclined,Has made me die, full sore against my mind!Some of you naughty men, I fear, will cry,Poor rogue! would I might teach thee how to die!Thanks for your love; but I sincerely say,I never mean to die, your wicked way.Well, since it is decreed all flesh must go,(And I am flesh,—at least for aught you know)I first declare, I die with pious mind,In perfect charity with all mankind.Next for my will:——I have, in my dispose,Some certain moveables would please you beaux;As, first, my youth; for, as I have been told,Some of you modish sparks are devilish old.My chastity I need not leave among ye;For, to suspect old fops, were much to wrong ye.You swear you're sinners; but for all your haste,Your misses shake their heads, and find you chaste.I give my courage to those bold commanders,Who stay with us, and dare not go for Flanders.I leave my truth (to make his plot more clear)To Mr Fuller, when he next shall swear[45].I give my judgment, craving all your mercies,To those that leave good plays, for damned dull farces.My small devotion let the gallants share,That come to ogle us at evening prayer.I give my person——let me well consider,——Faith e'en to him that is the fairest bidder;To some rich hunks, if any be so boldTo say those dreadful words,To have and hold.But stay—to give, and be bequeathing still,When I'm so poor, is just like Wickham's will:Like that notorious cheat, vast sums I give,Only that you may keep me while I live[46].Buy a good bargain, gallants, while you may;I'll cost you but your half-a-crown a day.

This day, the Poet, bloodily inclined,

Has made me die, full sore against my mind!

Some of you naughty men, I fear, will cry,

Poor rogue! would I might teach thee how to die!

Thanks for your love; but I sincerely say,

I never mean to die, your wicked way.

Well, since it is decreed all flesh must go,

(And I am flesh,—at least for aught you know)

I first declare, I die with pious mind,

In perfect charity with all mankind.

Next for my will:——I have, in my dispose,

Some certain moveables would please you beaux;

As, first, my youth; for, as I have been told,

Some of you modish sparks are devilish old.

My chastity I need not leave among ye;

For, to suspect old fops, were much to wrong ye.

You swear you're sinners; but for all your haste,

Your misses shake their heads, and find you chaste.

I give my courage to those bold commanders,

Who stay with us, and dare not go for Flanders.

I leave my truth (to make his plot more clear)

To Mr Fuller, when he next shall swear[45].

I give my judgment, craving all your mercies,

To those that leave good plays, for damned dull farces.

My small devotion let the gallants share,

That come to ogle us at evening prayer.

I give my person——let me well consider,——

Faith e'en to him that is the fairest bidder;

To some rich hunks, if any be so bold

To say those dreadful words,To have and hold.

But stay—to give, and be bequeathing still,

When I'm so poor, is just like Wickham's will:

Like that notorious cheat, vast sums I give,

Only that you may keep me while I live[46].

Buy a good bargain, gallants, while you may;

I'll cost you but your half-a-crown a day.

NATURE WILL PREVAIL.

TRAGI-COMEDY.

——Quod optanti Divûm promittere nemoAuderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultrò.Virg.

——Quod optanti Divûm promittere nemo

Auderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultrò.Virg.

This piece, which concluded our author's labours as a dramatic poet, was unsuccessful when represented, and affords very little pleasure when perused. If we except "Amboyna," our author never produced a play, where the tragic part had less interest, or the comic less humour. For the faults of "Amboyna," Dryden pleaded the barren nature of the subject, chosen not with a view to dramatic effect, but to attain a political purpose, and the hurry of writing upon a temporary theme. But that he should have failed, in a play avowedly intended to crown his dramatic labours, where the story was of his own device, and the composition at his own leisure, can only be imputed to that occasional flatness, or cessation of the divine influence, as an ancient would have expressed it, from which men of the highest poetic genius are not exempted. In despite of all cold reasoning upon this subject, the fact is irresistible, that our capacity of exerting mental talents, is not more absolute than that which we possess over our bodily powers. We are in each case limited by a thousand external and internal circumstances, which occasion the greatest and most involuntary inequalities, between our happier and our inferior efforts, of mental abilities or of corporeal strength. It can only be to the temporary failure of the poetic inspiration, which, like the wind of heaven, bloweth where it listeth, and neither to want of labour, nor to impaired talents, that we are to attribute the inferiority of "Love Triumphant," to almost all Dryden's other compositions.

The plot is unhappily chosen. For, as we have had already occasion to notice, stories turning, or appearing to turn, upon incestuous passion, have seldom been successful upon the modern stage[47]. Davies, in his "Dramatic Miscellanies," attributes Garrick's renouncing his intentionof reviving the admirable old play of "King and no King," to the ardent passion which Arbaces conceives for his supposed sister; and which that excellent judge suspected would not be tolerated in our age. "Phædra and Hippolitus," though most powerfully supported, both by actors and admirers, failed for the same reason; and, according to Davies, even the various excellencies of "Don Sebastian" were unable to expiate the disgust, excited by the unpleasing discovery of his relation to Almeyda. While "Love Triumphant" labours under this capital and disagreeable defect, little ingenuity can be discovered in the story, abstracted from that consideration. The king of Castile suffers his sole and only offspring to remain in the court of a rival and hostile monarch, and even to head armies against him, supposing himself the son of his enemy. The virtuous Queen of Arragon cultivates and encourages a passion, having all the moral guilt of an incestuous attachment, between her own daughter and her supposed son. The tyrant Veramond is the only person who acts upon rational principles through the piece. He refuses the liberty of a rival king to the petulant demand of Alphonso; and not very unreasonably proposes to separate his son and daughter, before worse consequences arose from their infamous and impudently avowed passion. But by this very natural conduct, he gains the hatred of his wife, his children, and his subjects:

Miranda canit, sed non credenda, poeta.

After so many and such violent stretches of probability, the author does not deign to wind up the plot, otherwise than by a sudden change in the temper and resolutions of Veramond, a conclusion which he himself admits in general to be grossly inartificial, and which in the present case is peculiarly infelicitous. The ruling passion of Veramond seems to be a hatred of his rival Ramirez, and a sort of instinctive antipathy to Alphonso, even when he believes him to be his own son, just arrived from conquest in his behalf. This hatred and aversion was not likely to be abated, by the objects of them turning out to be father and son; nor much soothed, by the circumstance of their making him prisoner in his own metropolis. Yet, in this situation, moved by a few soft speeches from Celidea, who had taken a fancy to the intended husband of her sister, the tyrant of Arragon alters his whole family arrangements, and habits of mind; and takes his hated foes into his family and bosom, merely that the play may be concluded. The author of these inconsistencies can hardly escape the censure of Aristotle, against which he has pleaded in the preface.

With regard to the poetry of "Love Triumphant," it is somewhat remarkable, that, in the most laboured scenes of this last effortof his tragic muse, Dryden has had recourse to his discarded mistress, Rhyme. As this could hardly arise from an alteration of his final opinion, it may have been owing to a consciousness, that there was some deficiency in the piece, which the harmony of numbers might veil, though it could not supply. The turn of the dialogue, also, is quite in our poet's early manner. The lovers, in the first scene of the second act, burning with a horrible passion, which they felt it death to conceal, and infamy and mortal sin to avow, communicate their feelings to each other in alternate couplets, like two contending Arcadians. Their horror evaporates in antithesis, and their passion in quaint prettinesses. Witness the speech of Alphonso:

Alph.Oh raging, impious, and yet hopeless fire!Not daring to possess what I desire;Condemn'd to suffer what I cannot bear;Tortur'd with love, and furious with despair.Of all the pains which wretched mortals prove,The fewest remedies belong to love:But ours has none; for if we should enjoy,Our fatal cure must both of us destroy.Oh dear Victoria, cause of all my pain!Oh dear Victoria, whom I would not gain!Victoria, for whose sake I would survive:Victoria, for whose sake I dare not live.

Alph.Oh raging, impious, and yet hopeless fire!

Not daring to possess what I desire;

Condemn'd to suffer what I cannot bear;

Tortur'd with love, and furious with despair.

Of all the pains which wretched mortals prove,

The fewest remedies belong to love:

But ours has none; for if we should enjoy,

Our fatal cure must both of us destroy.

Oh dear Victoria, cause of all my pain!

Oh dear Victoria, whom I would not gain!

Victoria, for whose sake I would survive:

Victoria, for whose sake I dare not live.

If the tragic part of "Love Triumphant" have little merit, the comic has even less. The absurdity of the two gallants disguising themselves, in hopes to pass for the deceased Conde upon a mistress, who had borne him two children, is too gross for a puppet-show, or pantomime; and there is nothing in the dialogue to attone for the flatness, and extravagance of the plot. It may, however, be remarked, that Sancho, a tawdry and conceited coxcomb, the son of a Jewish usurer, and favoured by the father of his mistress, only for his wealth, has some resemblance in manners and genealogy to a much more pleasant character, that of Isaac in the "Duenna."

It is impossible to dismiss a performance of Dryden, without some tribute of praise. The verse, where it is employed, possesses, as usual, all the dignity which numbers can give to language; and the Song upon Jealousy, as well as that in the character of a Girl, have superior merit.

The play was received as ill as might be; so at least we are informed by a curious letter, preserved by Mr Malone, dated 22d March 1693-4, in which the writer, after chuckling over the failure of the "Double Dealer," and the absolute damnation of "Love Triumphant," concludes, that the success of Southerne's "Fatal Marriage" will encourage the minor poets, "and vex huffingDryden, and Congreve, to madness[48]." Dryden himself, it may be noticed, says nothing in the preface concerning the reception of the piece: all authorities, however, state it to have been unfavourable; and thus, as Dr Johnson has remarked, this great poet opened and closed his theatrical career with bad success; a fact, which may secure the inexperienced author from despondence, and teach him who has gained reputation, how little he ought to presume on its stability.

"Love Triumphant" was first acted and published in 1693-4.

MY LORD,

Thispoem, being the last which I intend for the theatre, ought to have the same provision made for it, which old men make for their youngest child, which is commonly a favourite. They, who were born before it, carry away the patrimony by right of eldership; this is to make its fortune in the world, and since I can do little for it, natural affection calls upon me to put it out, at least, into the best service which I can procure for it; and, as it is the usual practice of our decayed gentry to look about them for some illustrious family, and theirendeavour to fix their young darling, where he may be both well educated and supported;[50]I have herein also followed the custom of the world, and am satisfied in my judgment, that I could not havemade a more worthy choice. It is true, I am not vain enough to think that anything of mine can in any measure be worthy of your lordship's patronage; and yet I should be ashamed to leave the stage, without some acknowledgment of your former favours, which I have more than once experienced. Besides the honour of my wife's relation to your noble house,[51]to which my sons may plead some title, though I cannot; you have been pleased to take a particular notice of me, even in this lowness of my fortunes, to which I have voluntarily reduced myself; and of which I have no reason to be ashamed. This condescension, my lord, is not only becoming of your antient family, but of your personal character in the world; and, if I value myself the more for your indulgence to me, and your opinion of me, it is because any thing which you like, ought to be considered as something in itself;and therefore I must not undervalue my present labours, because I have presumed to make you my patron. A man may be just to himself, though he ought not to be partial; and I dare affirm, that the several manners which I have given to the persons of this drama, are truly drawn from nature, all perfectly distinguished from each other; that the fable is not injudiciously contrived; that the turns of fortune are not managed unartfully; and that the last revolution is happily enough invented. Aristotle, I acknowledge, has declared, that the catastrophe which is made from the change of will, is not of the first order of beauty; but it may reasonably be alledged, in defence of this play, as well as of the "Cinna," (which I take to be the very best of Corneille's,) that the philosopher, who made the rule, copied all the laws, which he gave for the theatre, from the authorities and examples of the Greek poets, which he had read; and from their poverty of invention, he could get nothing but mean conclusions of wretched tales: where the mind of the chief actor was, for the most part, changed without art or preparation; only because the poet could not otherwise end his play. Had it been possible for Aristotle to have seen the "Cinna," I am confident he would have altered his opinion; and concluded, that a simple change of will might be managed with so much judgment, as to render it the most agreeable, as well as the most surprising part of the whole fable; let Dacier, and all the rest of the modern critics, who are too much bigotted to the ancients, contend ever so much to the contrary. I was afraid that I had been the inventor of a new sort of designing, when, in my third act, I make a discovery of my Alphonso's true parentage. If it were so, what wonder had it been, that dramatic poetry, though a limited art, yet might be capableof receiving some innovations for the better? But afterwards I casually found, that Menander and Terence, in the "Heautontimoroumenos," had been before me; and made the same kind of discovery in the same act. As for the mechanic unities;—that of time is much within the compass of an astrological day, which begins at twelve, and ends at the same hour the day following: that of place is not observed so justly by me, as by the ancients; for their scene was always one, and almost constantly in some public place. Some of the late French poets, and, amongst the English, my most ingenious friend, Mr Congreve, have observed this rule strictly; though the place was not altogether so public as a street. I have followed the example of Corneille, and stretched the latitude to a street and palace, not far distant from each other in the same city. They, who will not allow this liberty to a poet, make it a very ridiculous thing for an audience to suppose themselves, sometimes to be in a field, sometimes in a garden, and at other times in a chamber. There are not, indeed, so many absurdities in their supposition, as in ours; but it is an original absurdity for the audience to suppose themselves to be in any other place, than in the very theatre in which they sit; which is neither chamber, nor garden, nor yet a public place of any business, but that of the representation. For my action it is evidently double; and in that I have the most of the ancients for my examples. Yet I dare not defend this way by reason, much less by their authority; for their actions, though double, were of the same species; that is to say, in their comedies, two amours; and their persons were better linked in interests than mine. Yet even this is a fault which I should often practise, if I were to write again, because it is agreeable to the English genius.We love variety more than any other nation; and so long as the audience will not be pleased without it, the poet is obliged to humour them. On condition they were cured of this public vice, I could be content to change my method, and gladly give them a more reasonable pleasure. This digression, my lord, is not altogether the purpose of an epistle dedicatory; yet it is expected, that somewhat should be said, even here, in relation to criticism; at least in vindication of my address, that you may not be desired to patronize a poem, which is wholly unworthy of your protection. Though, after all, I doubt not but some will liken me to the lover in a modern comedy, who was combing his peruke,[52]and setting his cravat before his mistress; and being asked by her, when he intended to begin his court, replied, "He had been doing it all this while." Yet thus it happens, my lord, that self will come into all addresses of this nature, though it is the most unmannerly word of the world in civil conversation, and the most ungrateful to all hearers. For which reason, I, who have nothing to boast of, but my misfortunes, ought to be the first to banish it; especially since I have so largea field before me, as your inborn goodness, your evenness of temper, your humility in so ample a share of fortune as you possess, your humanity to all men, and your kindness to your friends; besides your natural and acquired endowments, and your brotherly love to your relations.Notus in fratres animo paterno, was the great commendation which Horace gave to one of his patrons; and it is that praise which particularly crowns your other virtues. But here, my lord, I am obliged, in common prudence to stop short, and to cast under a veil some other of your praises, as the chemists use to shadow the secret of their great elixir, lest, if it were made public, the world should make a bad use of it.[53]To enjoy our own quiet, without disturbing that of others, is the practice of every moral man; and, for the rest, to live chearfully and splendidly, as it is becoming your illustrious birth, so it is likewise to thank God for his benefits in the best manner. It is unnecessary to wish you more worldly happiness or content of mind, than you enjoy; but the continuance of both to yourself, and your posterity, is earnestly desired by all who have the honour to be known to you, and more particularly by,

My Lord,Your lordship'smost obedient andmost humbly devoted servant,John Dryden.

My Lord,

Your lordship's

most obedient and

most humbly devoted servant,

John Dryden.

Back to Index Next