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• The Works of Voltaire: the Dramatic Works of Voltaire Vol. Viii— Part I
• MÉrope
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• A Letter to the Marquis Scipio Maffei, Author of the Italian Mérope, and Many Other Celebrated Performances.
• A Letter From M. De La Lindelle to M. De Voltaire.
• The Answer of M. De Voltaire to M. De La Lindelle.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• Olympia
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• The Orphan of China
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• To the Most Noble Duke of Richelieu, Marshal and Peer of France, First Gentleman of the Chamber to His Majesty, Governor of Languedoc, and Member of the Academy of Sciences.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• Brutus
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• The Dramatic Works of Voltaire Vol. Viii— Part Ii
• Mahomet.
• To His Majesty the King of Prussia.
• A Letter From M. De Voltaire to Pope Benedict XIV.
• The Answer of Pope Benedict XIV. To M. De Voltaire. Benedictus P. P. Dilecto Filio Salutem & Apostolicam Benedictionem.
• A Letter of Thanks From M. De Voltaire to the Pope.
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act Ii
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• Amelia
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• Œdipus
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• Mariamne
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• Socrates
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.

THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF VOLTAIRE Vol. VIII—Part II

MAHOMET.

This powerful work was read by Voltaire to Frederick of Prussia in 1740, to the king’s great delight. The following correspondence has peculiar interest. In his “Life of Voltaire” James Parton says: “The great lesson of the play is that the founders of false religions at once despise and practise upon the docile credulity of men. When I remember that this powerful exhibition of executive force triumphing over credulity and weakness was vividly stamped upon the susceptible brain of Frederick by Voltaire’s impassioned declamation, at the very time he was revolving his Silesian project, I am inclined to the conjecture that it may have been the deciding influence upon the king’s mind.” The play was withdrawn after the fourth representation, under pressure of Church authorities who professed to see in it a “bloody satire against the Christian religion.” This letter preserves the original characteristics.

TO HIS MAJESTY

THE KING OF PRUSSIA.

Rotterdam, January 20, 1742.

Sir:

I am at present, like the pilgrims of Mecca, turning their eyes perpetually towards that city after leaving it, as I do mine towards the court of Prussia. My heart, deeply penetrated with the sense of your majesty’s goodness, knows no grief but that which arises from my incapacity of being always with you. I have taken the liberty to send your majesty a fresh copy of “Mahomet,” the sketch of which you have seen some time ago. This is a tribute which I pay to the lover of arts, the sensible critic, and above all, to the philosopher much more than to the sovereign. Your majesty knows by what motive I was inspired in the composition of that work. The love of mankind, and the hatred of fanaticism, two virtues that adorn your throne, guided my pen: I have ever been of opinion, that tragedy should correct, as well as move the heart. Of what consequence or importance to mankind are the passions or misfortunes of any of the heroes of antiquity, if they do not convey some instruction to us? It is universally acknowledged, that the comedy of “Tartuffe,” a piece hitherto unequalled, did a great deal of good in the world, by showing hypocrisy in its proper light; and why therefore should we not endeavor in a tragedy to expose that species of imposture which sets to work the hypocrisy of some, and the madness of others? Why may we not go back to the histories of those ancient ruffians, the illustrious founders of superstition and fanaticism, who first carried the sword to the altar to sacrifice all those who refused to embrace their doctrines?

They who tell us that these days of wickedness are past, that we shall never see any more Barcochebas, Mahomets, Johns of Leyden, etc., and that the flames of religious war are totally extinguished, in my opinion, pay too high a compliment to human nature. The same poison still subsists, though it does not appear so openly—some symptoms of this plague break out from time to time—enough to infect the earth: have not we in our own age seen the prophets of Cévennes killing in the name of God those of their sect, who were not sufficiently pliant to their purposes?

The action I have described is terrible; I do not know whether horror was ever carried farther on any stage. A young man born with virtuous inclinations, seduced by fanaticism, assassinates an old man who loves him; and whilst he imagines he is serving God, is, without knowing it, guilty of parricide: the murder is committed by the order of an impostor, who promises him a reward, which proves to be incest. This, I acknowledge, is full of horror; but your majesty is thoroughly sensible, that tragedy should not consist merely of love, jealousy, and marriage: even our histories abound in actions much more horrible than that which I have invented. Seid does not know that the person whom he assassinates is his father, and when he has committed the crime, feels the deepest remorse for it; but Mézeray tells us, that at Milan a father killed his son with his own hand on account of religion, and was not in the least sorry for it. The story of the two brothers Diaz is well known; one of them was at Rome and the other in Germany, in the beginning of the commotions raised by Luther: Bartholomew Diaz, hearing that his brother embraced the opinion of Luther at Frankfort, left Rome on purpose to assassinate him, and accordingly did so. Herrera, a Spanish author, tells us, that Bartholomew Diaz ran a great hazard in doing this, but nothing intimidates a man of honor guided by honesty. Herrera, we see, brought up in that holy religion which is an enemy to cruelty, a religion which teaches long-suffering and not revenge, was persuaded that honesty might make a man an assassin and a parricide: ought we not to rise up on all sides against such infernal maxims? These put the poniard into the hand of that monster who deprived France of Henry the Great: these placed the picture of James Clement on the altar, and his name amongst the saints: these took away the life of William, prince of Orange, founder of the liberty and prosperity of his country. Salcede shot at and wounded him in the forehead with a pistol; and Strada tells us, that Salcede would not dare to undertake that enterprise till he had purified his soul by confession at the feet of a Dominican, and fortified it by the holy sacrament. Herrera has something more horrible, and more ridiculous concerning it. “He stood firm,” says he, “after the example of our Saviour, Jesus Christ, and His saints.” Balthasar Girard, who afterwards took away the life of that great man, behaved in the same manner as Salcede.

I have remarked, that all those who voluntarily committed such crimes were young men like Seid. Balthasar Girard was about twenty years old, and the four Spaniards who had bound themselves by oath with him to kill the prince, were of the same age. The monster who killed Henry III., was but four-and-twenty, and Poltrot, who assassinated the great Duke of Guise only twenty-five: this is the age of seduction and madness. In England I was once a witness to how far the power of fanaticism could work on a weak and youthful imagination: a boy of sixteen, whose name was Shepherd, engaged to assassinate King George I., your majesty’s grandfather by the mother’s side. What could prompt him to such madness? the only reason to be assigned was, that Shepherd was not of the same religion with the king. They took pity on his youth, offered him his pardon, and for a long time endeavored to bring him to repentance; but he always persisted in saying, it was better to obey God than man; and if they let him go, the first use he made of his liberty should be to kill the king: so that they were obliged at last to execute him as a monster, whom they despaired of bringing to any sense of reason.

I will venture to affirm that all who have seen anything of mankind must have remarked how easily nature is sometimes sacrificed to superstition: how many fathers have detested and disinherited their children! how many brothers have persecuted brothers on this destructive principle! I have myself seen instances of it in more than one family.

If superstition does not always signalize itself in those glaring crimes which history transmits to us, in society it does every day all the mischief it possibly can: disunites friends, separates kindred and relations, destroys the wise and worthy by the hands of fools and enthusiasts: it does not indeed every day poison a Socrates, but it banishes Descartes from a city which ought to be the asylum of liberty, and gives Jurieu, who acted the part of a prophet, credit enough to impoverish the wise philosopher Bayle: it banished the successor of the great Leibnitz, and deprives a noble assembly of young men that crowded to his lectures, of pleasure and improvement: and to re-establish him heaven must raise up amongst us a royal philosopher, that true miracle which is so rarely to be seen. In vain does human reason advance towards perfection, by means of that philosophy which of late has made so great a progress in Europe: in vain do you, most noble prince, both inspire and practise this humane philosophy: whilst in the same age wherein reason raises her throne on one side, the most absurd fanaticism adorns her altars on the other.

It may perhaps be objected to me, that, out of my too abundant zeal, I have made Mahomet in this tragedy guilty of a crime which in reality he was not capable of committing. The count de Boulainvilliers, some time since, wrote the life of this prophet, whom he endeavored to represent as a great man, appointed by Providence to punish the Christian world, and change the face of at least one-half of the globe. Mr. Sale likewise, who has given us an excellent translation of the Koran into English, would persuade us to look upon Mahomet as a Numa or a Theseus. I will readily acknowledge, that we ought to respect him, if born a legitimate prince, or called to government by the voice of the people, he had instituted useful and peaceful laws like Numa, or like Theseus defended his countrymen: but for a driver of camels to stir up a faction in his village; to associate himself with a set of wretched Koreish, and persuade them that he had an interview with the angel Gabriel; to boast that he was carried up to heaven, and there received part of that unintelligible book which contradicts common sense in every page; that in order to procure respect for this ridiculous performance he should carry fire and sword into his country, murder fathers, and ravish their daughters, and after all give those whom he conquered the choice of his religion or death; this is surely what no man will pretend to vindicate, unless he was born a Turk, and superstition had totally extinguished in him the light of nature.

Mahomet, I know, did not actually commit that particular crime which is the subject of this tragedy: history only informs us, that he took away the wife of Seid, one of his followers, and persecuted Abusophan, whom I call Zopir; but what is not that man capable of, who, in the name of God, makes war against his country? It was not my design merely to represent a real fact, but real manners and characters, to make men think as they naturally must in their circumstances; but above all it was my intention to show the horrid schemes which villainy can invent, and fanaticism put in practice. Mahomet is here no more than Tartuffe in arms.

Upon the whole I shall think myself amply rewarded for my labor, if any one of those weak mortals, who are ever ready to receive the impressions of a madness foreign to their nature, should learn from this piece to guard themselves against such fatal delusions; if, after being shocked at the dreadful consequences of Seid’s obedience, he should say to himself, why must I blindly follow the blind who cry out to me, hate, persecute all who are rash enough not to be of the same opinion with ourselves, even in things and matters we do not understand? what infinite service would it be to mankind to eradicate such false sentiments! A spirit of indulgence would make us all brothers; a spirit of persecution can create nothing but monsters. This I know is your majesty’s opinion: to live with such a prince, and such a philosopher, would be my greatest happiness; my sincere attachment can only be equalled by my regret; but if other duties draw me away, they can never blot out the respect I owe to a prince, who talks and thinks like a man, who despises that specious gravity which is always a cover for meanness and ignorance: a prince who converses with freedom, because he is not afraid of being known; who is still eager to be instructed, and at the same time capable himself of instructing the most learned and the most sagacious.

I shall, whilst I have life, remain with the most profound respect, and deepest sense of gratitude, your majesty’s,

Voltaire.

A Letter from M. de Voltaire to Pope Benedict XIV.

Most blessed Father—

Your holiness will pardon the liberty taken by one of the lowest of the faithful, though a zealous admirer of virtue, of submitting to the head of the true religion this performance, written in opposition to the founder of a false and barbarous sect. To whom could I with more propriety inscribe a satire on the cruelty and errors of a false prophet, than to the vicar and representative of a God of truth and mercy? Your holiness will therefore give me leave to lay at your feet both the piece and the author of it, and humbly to request your protection of the one, and your benediction upon the other; in hopes of which, with the profoundest reverence, I kiss your sacred feet.

Paris, August 17, 1745.

Voltaire.

The Answer of Pope Benedict XIV. to M. de Voltaire.

Benedictus P. P. dilecto filio salutem & Apostolicam Benedictionem.

This day sevennight I was favored with your excellent tragedy of Mahomet, which I have read with great pleasure: Cardinal Passionei has likewise presented me with your fine poem of Fontenoy. Signor Leprotti this day repeated to me your distich made on my retreat. Yesterday morning Cardinal Valenti gave me your letter of the 17th of August. Many are the obligations which you have conferred on me, for which I am greatly indebted to you, for all and every one of them; and I assure you that I have the highest esteem for your merit, which is so universally acknowledged.

The distich has been published at Rome, and objected to by one of the literati, who, in a public conversation, affirmed that there was a mistake in it with regard to the word hic, which is made short, whereas it ought to be always long. To which I replied, that it may be either long or short; Virgil having made it short in this verse,

Solus hic inflexit sensus, animumque labantem.

And long in another,

Hic finis Priami fatorum, hic exitus illum.

The answer I think was pretty full and convincing, considering that I have not looked into Virgil these fifty years. The cause, however, is properly yours; to your honor and sincerity, therefore, of which I have the highest opinion, I shall leave it to be defended against your opposers and mine, and here give you my apostolical benediction. Datum Romæ apud sanctam Mariam majorem die 19 Sept. Pontificatus nostri anno sexto.

A Letter of Thanks from M. de Voltaire to the Pope.

The features of your excellency are not better expressed on the medal you were so kind as to send me, than are the features of your mind in the letter which you honored me with: permit me to lay at your feet my sincerest acknowledgments: in points of literature, as well as in matters of more importance, your infallibility is not to be disputed: your excellency is much better versed in the Latin tongue than the Frenchman whom you condescended to correct: I am indeed astonished how you could so readily appeal to Virgil: the popes were always ranked amongst the most learned sovereigns, but amongst them I believe there never was one in whom so much learning and taste united.

Agnosco rerum dominos, gentemque togatam.

If the Frenchman who found fault with the word hic had known as much of Virgil as your excellency, he might have recollected a verse where hic is both long and short.

Hic vir hic est tibi quem promitti sæpius audis.

I cannot help considering this verse as a happy presage of the favors conferred on me by your excellency. Thus might Rome cry out when Benedict XIV. was raised to the papacy: with the utmost respect and gratitude I kiss your sacred feet, etc.

Voltaire.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Mahomet.

Zopir, Sheik of Mecca.

Phanor, Senator of Mecca.

Company of Meccans.

Company of Mussulmans.

Scene, Mecca.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

zopir, phanor.

zopir.

• Thinkest thou thy friend will ever bend the knee
• To this proud hypocrite; shall I fall down
• And worship, I who banished him from Mecca?
• No: punish me, just heaven, as I deserve,
• If e’er this hand, the friend of innocence
• And freedom, stoop to cherish foul rebellion,
• Or aid imposture to deceive mankind!

phanor.

• Thy zeal is noble, and becomes the chief
• Of Ishmael’s sacred senate, but may prove
• Destructive to the cause it means to serve:
• Thy ardor cannot check the rapid power
• Of Mahomet, and but provokes his vengeance:
• There was a time when you might safely draw
• The sword of justice, to defend the rights
• Of Mecca, and prevent the flames of war
• From spreading o’er the land; then Mahomet
• Was but a bold and factious citizen,
• But now he is a conqueror, and a king;
• Mecca’s impostor at Medina shines
• A holy prophet; nations bend before him,
• And learn to worship crimes which we abhor.
• Even here, a band of wild enthusiasts, drunk
• With furious zeal, support his fond delusions,
• His idle tales, and fancied miracles:
• These spread sedition through the gaping throng,
• Invite his forces, and believe a God
• Inspires and renders him invincible.
• The lovers of their country think with you,
• But wisest counsels are not always followed;
• False zeal, and fear, and love of novelty
• Alarm the crowd; already half our city
• Is left unpeopled; Mecca cries aloud
• To thee her father, and demands a peace.

zopir.

• Peace with a traitor! coward nation, what
• Can you expect but slavery from a tyrant!
• Go, bend your supple knees, and prostrate fall
• Before the idol whose oppressive hand
• Shall crush you all: for me, I hate the traitor;
• This heart’s too deeply wounded to forgive:
• The savage murderer robbed me of a wife
• And two dear children: nor is his resentment
• Less fierce than mine; I forced his camp, pursued
• The coward to his tent, and slew his son:
• The torch of hatred is lit up between us,
• And time can never extinguish it.

phanor.

• I hope
• It never will; yet thou shouldst hide the flame,
• And sacrifice thy griefs to public good:
• What if he lay this noble city waste,
• Will that avenge thee, will that serve thy cause?
• Thou hast lost all, son, brother, daughter, wife.
• Mecca alone remains to give thee comfort,
• Do not lose that, do not destroy thy country.

zopir.

• Kingdoms are lost by cowardice alone.

phanor.

• As oft perhaps by obstinate resistance.

zopir.

• Then let us perish, if it be our fate.

phanor.

• When thou art almost in the harbor, thus
• To brave the storm is false and fatal courage:
• Kind heaven, thou seest, points out to thee the means
• To soften this proud tyrant; fair Palmira,
• Thy beautous captive, brought up in the camp
• Of this destructive conqueror, was sent
• By gracious heaven, the messenger of peace,
• Thy guardian angel, to appease the wrath
• Of Mahomet; already by his herald
• He has demanded her.

zopir.

• And wouldst thou have me
• Give up so fair a prize to this barbarian?
• What! whilst the tyrant spreads destruction round him,
• Unpeoples kingdoms, and destroys mankind,
• Shall beauty’s charms be sacrificed to bribe
• A madman’s frenzy? I should envy him
• That lovely fair one more than all his glory;
• Not that I feel the stings of wild desire,
• Or, in the evening of my days, indulge,
• Old as I am, a shameless passion for her;
• But, whether objects born like her to please,
• Spite of ourselves, demand our tenderest pity,
• Or that perhaps a childless father hopes
• To find in her another daughter, why
• I know not, but for that unhappy maid
• Still am I anxious; be it weakness in me,
• Or reason’s powerful voice, I cannot bear
• To see her in the hands of Mahomet;
• Would I could mould her to my wishes, form
• Her willing mind, and make her hate the tyrant
• As I do! She has sent to speak with me
• Here in the sacred porch—and lo! she comes:
• On her fair cheek the blush of modesty
• And candor speaks the virtues of her heart.

SCENE II.

zopir, palmira.

zopir.

• Hail, lovely maid! the chance of cruel war
• Hath made thee Zopir’s captive, but thou art not
• Amongst barbarians; all with me revere
• Palmira’s virtues, and lament her fate,
• Whilst youth with innocence and beauty plead
• Thy cause; whatever thou askest in Zopir’s power,
• Thou shalt not ask in vain: my life declines
• Towards its period, and if my last hours
• Can give Palmira joy, I shall esteem them
• The best, the happiest I have ever known.

palmira.

• These two months past, my lord, your prisoner here,
• Scarce have I felt the yoke of slavery;
• Your generous hand, still raised to soothe affliction,
• Hath wiped the tears of sorrow from my eyes,
• And softened all the rigor of my fate:
• Forgive me, if emboldened by your goodness
• I ask for more, and centre every hope
• Of future happiness on you alone;
• Forgive me, if to Mahomet’s request
• I join Palmira’s, and implore that freedom
• He hath already asked: O listen to him,
• And let me say, that after heaven and him
• I am indebted most to generous Zopir.

zopir.

• Has then oppression such enticing charms
• That thou shouldst wish and beg to be the slave
• Of Mahomet, to hear the clash of arms,
• With him to live in deserts, and in caves,
• And wander o’er his ever shifting country?

palmira.

• Where’er the mind with ease and pleasure dwells,
• There is our home, and there our native country:
• He formed my soul; to Mahomet I owe
• The kind instruction of my earlier years;
• Taught by the happy partners of his bed,
• Who still adoring and adored by him
• Send up their prayers to heaven for his dear safety,
• I lived in peace and joy! for ne’er did woe
• Pollute that seat of bliss till the sad hour
• Of my misfortune, when wide-wasting war
• Rushed in upon us and enslaved Palmira:
• Pity, my lord, a heart oppressed with grief,
• That sighs for objects far, far distant from her.

zopir.

• I understand you, madam; you expect
• The tyrant’s hand, and hope to share his throne.

palmira.

• I honor him, my lord; my trembling soul
• Looks up to Mahomet with holy fear
• As to a god; but never did this heart
• E’er cherish the vain hope that he would deign
• To wed Palmira: No: such splendor ill
• Would suit my humble state.

zopir.

• Whoe’er thou art,
• He was not born, I trust, to be thy husband,
• No, nor thy master; much I err, or thou
• Springest from a race designed by heaven to check
• This haughty Arab, and give laws to him
• Who thus assumes the majesty of kings.

palmira.

• Alas! we know not what it is to boast
• Of birth or fortune; from our infant years
• Without or parents, friends, or country, doomed
• To slavery; here resigned to our hard fate,
• Strangers to all but to that God we serve,
• We live content in humble poverty.

zopir.

• And can ye be content? and are ye strangers,
• Without a father, and without a home?
• I am a childless, poor, forlorn, old man;
• You might have been the comfort of my age:
• To form a plan of future happiness
• For you, had softened my own wretchedness,
• And made me some amends for all my wrongs:
• But you abhor my country and my law.

palmira.

• I am not mistress of myself, and how
• Can I be thine? I pity thy misfortunes,
• And bless thee for thy goodness to Palmira;
• But Mahomet has been a father to me.

zopir.

• A father! ye just gods! the vile impostor!

palmira.

• Can he deserve that name, the holy prophet,
• The great ambassador of heaven, sent down
• To interpret its high will?

zopir.

• Deluded mortals!
• How blind ye are, to follow this proud madman,
• This happy robber, whom my justice spared,
• And raise him from the scaffold to a throne!

palmira.

• My lord, I shudder at your imprecations;
• Though I am bound by honor and the ties
• Of gratitude to love thee for thy bounties,
• This blasphemy against my kind protector
• Cancels the bond, and fills my soul with horror.
• O superstition, how thy savage power
• Deprives at once the best and tenderest hearts
• Of their humanity!

zopir.

• Alas! Palmira,
• Spite of myself, I feel for thy misfortunes,
• Pity thy weakness, and lament thy fate.

palmira.

• You will not grant me then—

zopir.

• I cannot yield thee
• To him who has deceived thy easy heart,
• To a base tyrant; No: thou art a treasure
• Too precious to be parted with, and makest
• This hypocrite but more detested.

SCENE III.

zopir, palmira, phanor.

zopir.

• Phanor,
• What wouldst thou?

phanor.

• At the city gate that leads
• To Moad’s fertile plain, the valiant Omar
• Is just arrived.

zopir.

• Indeed; the tyrant’s friend,
• The fierce, vindictive Omar, his new convert,
• Who had so long opposed him, and still fought
• For us!

phanor.

• Perhaps he yet may serve his country,
• Already he hath offered terms of peace;
• Our chiefs have parleyed with him, he demands
• An hostage, and I hear they’ve granted him
• The noble Seid.

palmira.

• Seid? gracious heaven!

phanor.

• Behold! my lord, he comes.

zopir.

• Ha! Omar here!
• There’s no retreating now, he must be heard;
• Palmira, you may leave us.—O ye gods
• Of my forefathers, you who have protected
• The sons of Ishmael these three thousand years,
• And thou, O Sun, with all those sacred lights
• That glitter round us, witness to my truth,
• Aid and support me in the glorious conflict
• With proud iniquity!

SCENE IV.

zopir, omar, phanor,Attendants.

zopir.

• At length, it seems,
• Omar returns, after a three years’ absence,
• To visit that loved country which his hand
• So long defended, and his honest heart
• Has now betrayed: deserter of our gods,
• Deserter of our laws, how darest thou thus
• Approach these sacred walls to persecute
• And to oppress; a public robber’s slave;
• What is thy errand? wherefore comest thou hither?

omar.

• To pardon thee: by me our holy prophet,
• In pity to thy age, thy well-known valor,
• And past misfortunes, offers thee his hand:
• Omar is come to bring thee terms of peace.

zopir.

• And shall a factious rebel offer peace
• Who should have sued for pardon? gracious gods!
• Will ye permit him to usurp your power,
• And suffer Mahomet to rule mankind?
• Dost thou not blush, vile minion as thou art,
• To serve a traitor? hast thou not beheld him
• Friendless and poor, an humble citizen,
• And ranking with the meanest of the throng?
• How little then in fortune or in fame!

omar.

• Thus low and grovelling souls like thine pretend
• To judge of merit, whilst in fortune’s scale
• Ye weigh the worth of men: proud, empty being,
• Dost thou not know that the poor worm which crawls
• Low on the earth, and the imperial eagle
• That soars to heaven, in the all-seeing eye
• Of their eternal Maker are the same,
• And shrink to nothing? men are equal all;
• From virtue only true distinction springs,
• And not from birth: there are exalted spirits
• Who claim respect and honor from themselves
• And not their ancestors: these, these, my lord,
• Are heaven’s peculiar care, and such is he
• Whom I obey, and who alone deserves
• To be a master; all mankind like me
• Shall one day fall before the conqueror’s feet,
• And future ages follow my example.

zopir.

• Omar, I know thee well; thy artful hand
• In vain hath drawn the visionary portrait;
• Thou mayest deceive the multitude, but know,
• What Mecca worships Zopir can despise:
• Be honest then, and with the impartial eye
• Of reason look on Mahomet; behold him
• But as a mortal, and consider well
• By what base arts the vile impostor rose,
• A camel-driver, a poor abject slave,
• Who first deceived a fond, believing woman,
• And now supported by an idle dream
• Draws in the weak and credulous multitude:
• Condemned to exile, I chastised the rebel
• Too lightly, and his insolence returns
• With double force to punish my indulgence.
• He fled with Fatima from cave to cave,
• And suffered chains, contempt and banishment;
• Meantime the fury which he called divine
• Spread like a subtle poison through the crowd;
• Medina was infected: Omar then,
• To reason’s voice attentive, would have stopped
• The impetuous torrent; he had courage then
• And virtue to attack the proud usurper,
• Though now he crouches to him like a slave.
• If thy proud master be indeed a prophet,
• How didst thou dare to punish him? or why,
• If an impostor, wilt thou dare to serve him?

omar.

• I punished him because I knew him not;
• But now, the veil of ignorance removed,
• I see him as he is; behold him born
• To change the astonished world, and rule mankind:
• When I beheld him rise in awful pomp,
• Intrepid, eloquent, by all admired,
• By all adored; beheld him speak and act,
• Punish and pardon like a god, I lent
• My little aid, and joined the conqueror.
• Altars, thou knowest, and thrones were our reward;
• Once I was blind, like thee, but, thanks to heaven!
• My eyes are opened now; would, Zopir, thine
• Were open, too! let me entreat thee, change,
• As I have done; no longer boast thy zeal
• And cruel hatred, nor blaspheme our God,
• But fall submissive at the hero’s feet
• Whom thou hast injured; kiss the hand that bears
• The angry lightning, lest it fall upon thee.
• Omar is now the second of mankind;
• A place of honor yet remains for thee,
• If prudent thou wilt yield, and own a master:
• What we have been thou knowest, and what we are:
• The multitude are ever weak and blind,
• Made for our use, born but to serve the great,
• But to admire, believe us, and obey:
• Reign then with us, partake the feast of grandeur,
• No longer deign to imitate the crowd,
• But henceforth make them tremble.

zopir.

• Tremble thou,
• And Mahomet, with all thy hateful train:
• Thinkest thou that Mecca’s faithful chief will fall
• At an impostor’s feet, and crown a rebel?
• I am no stranger to his specious worth;
• His courage and his conduct have my praise;
• Were he but virtuous I like thee should love him;
• But as he is I hate the tyrant: hence,
• Nor talk to me of his deceitful mercy,
• His clemency and goodness; all his aim
• Is cruelty and vengeance: with this hand
• I slew his darling son; I banished him:
• My hatred is inflexible, and so
• Is Mahomet’s resentment: if he e’er
• Re-enters Mecca, he must cut his way
• Through Zopir’s blood, for he is deeply stained
• With crimes that justice never can forgive.

omar.

• To show thee Mahomet is merciful,
• That he can pardon though thou canst not, here
• I offer thee the third of all our spoils
• Which we have taken from tributary kings;
• Name your conditions, and the terms of peace;
• Set your own terms on fair Palmira; take
• Our treasures, and be happy.

zopir.

• Thinkest thou Zopir
• Will basely sell his honor and his country,
• Will blast his name with infamy for wealth,
• The foul reward of guilt, or that Palmira
• Will ever own a tyrant for her master?
• She is too virtuous e’er to be the slave
• Of Mahomet, nor will I suffer her
• To fall a sacrifice to base impostors
• Who would subvert the laws, and undermine
• The safety and the virtue of mankind.

omar.

• Implacably severe; thou talkest to Omar
• As if he were a criminal, and thou
• His judge; but henceforth I would have thee act
• A better part, and treat me as a friend,
• As the ambassador of Mahomet,
• A conqueror and a king.

zopir.

• A king! who made,
• Who crowned him?

omar.

• Victory: respect his glory,
• And tremble at his power: amidst his conquests
• The hero offers peace; our swords are still
• Unsheathed, and woe to this rebellious city
• If she submits not: think what blood must flow,
• The blood of half our fellow-citizens;
• Consider, Zopir, Mahomet is here,
• And even now requests to speak with thee.

zopir.

• Ha! Mahomet!

omar.

• Yes, he conjures thee.

zopir.

• Traitor!
• Were I the sole despotic ruler here
• He should be answered soon—by chastisement.

omar.

• I pity, Zopir, thy pretended virtue;
• But since the senate insolently claim
• Divided empire with thee, to the senate
• Let us begone; Omar will meet thee there.

zopir.

• I’ll follow thee: we then shall see who best
• Can plead his cause: I will defend my gods,
• My country, and her laws; thy impious voice
• Shall bellow for thy vengeful deity,
• Thy persecuting god, and his false prophet.
• [Turning to Phanor.
• Haste, Phanor, and with me repulse the traitor;
• Who spares a villain is a villain:—come,
• Let us, my friend, unite to crush his pride,
• Subvert his wily purposes, destroy him,
• Or perish in the attempt: If Mecca listens
• To Zopir’s councils, I shall free my country
• From a proud tyrant’s power, and save mankind.

End of the First Act.

ACT II

SCENE I.

seid, palmira.

palmira.

• Welcome, my Seid, do I see thee here
• Once more in safety? what propitious god
• Conducted thee? at length Palmira’s woes
• Shall have an end, and we may yet be happy.

seid.

• Thou sweetest charmer, balm of every woe,
• Dear object of my wishes and my tears,
• O since that day of blood when flushed with conquest
• The fierce barbarian snatched thee from my arms,
• When midst a heap of slaughtered friends I lay
• Expiring on the ground, and called on death,
• But called in vain, to end my hated being,
• What have I suffered for my dear Palmira!
• How have I cursed the tardy hours that long
• Withheld my vengeance! my distracted soul’s
• Impatience thirsted for the bloody field,
• That with these hands I might lay waste this seat
• Of slavery, where Palmira mourned so long
• In sad captivity; but thanks to heaven!
• Our holy prophet, whose deep purposes
• Are far beyond the ken of human wisdom,
• Hath hither sent his chosen servant Omar;
• I flew to meet him, they required a hostage;
• I gave my faith, and they received it; firm
• In my resolve to live or die for thee.

palmira.

• Seid, the very moment ere thou camest
• To calm my fears, and save me from despair,
• Was I entreating the proud ravisher;
• Thou knowest, I cried, the only good on earth
• I prized is left behind, restore it to me:
• Then clasped his knees, fell at the tyrant’s feet,
• And bathed them with my tears, but all in vain:
• How his unkind refusal shocked my soul!
• My eyes grew dim, and motionless I stood
• As one deprived of life; no succor nigh,
• No ray of hope was left, when Seid came
• To ease my troubled heart, and bring me comfort.

seid.

• Who could behold unmoved Palmira’s woes?

palmira.

• The cruel Zopir; not insensible
• He seemed to my misfortunes, yet at last
• Unkindly told me, I must never hope
• To leave these walls, for naught should tear me from him.

seid.

• ’Tis false; for Mahomet, my royal master,
• With the victorious Omar, and forgive me,
• If to these noble friends I proudly add
• The name of Seid, these shall set thee free,
• Dry up thy tears, and make Palmira happy:
• The God of Mahomet, our great protector,
• That God whose sacred standard I have borne;
• He who destroyed Medina’s haughty ramparts
• Shall lay rebellious Mecca at our feet;
• Omar is here, and the glad people look
• With eyes of friendship on him; in the name
• Of Mahomet he comes, and meditates
• Some noble purpose.

palmira.

• Mahomet indeed
• Might free us, and unite two hearts long since
• Devoted to his cause; but he, alas!
• Is far removed, and we abandoned captives.

SCENE II.

palmira, seid, omar.

omar.

• Despair not; heaven perhaps may yet reward you,
• For Mahomet and liberty are nigh.

seid.

• Is he then come?

palmira.

• Our friend and father?

omar.

• Yes.
• I met the council, and by Mahomet
• Inspired, addressed them thus: “Within these walls,
• Even here,” I cried, “the favorite of heaven,
• Our holy prophet, first drew breath; the great,
• The mighty conqueror, the support of kings;
• And will ye not permit him but to rank
• As friend and fellow-citizen? he comes not
• To ruin or enslave, but to protect,
• To teach you and to save, to fix his power,
• And hold dominion o’er the conquered heart.”
• I spoke; the hoary sages smiled applause,
• And all inclined to favor us; but Zopir,
• Still resolute and still inflexible,
• Declared, the people should be called together,
• And give their general voice: the people met,
• Again I spoke, addressed the citizens,
• Exhorted, threatened, practised every art
• To win their favor, and at length prevailed;
• The gates are opened to great Mahomet,
• Who after fifteen years of cruel exile
• Returns to bless once more his native land;
• With him the gallant Ali, brave Hercides,
• And Ammon the invincible, besides
• A numerous train of chosen followers:
• The people throng around him; some with looks
• Of hatred, some with smiles of cordial love;
• Some bless the hero, and some curse the tyrant:
• Some threaten and blaspheme, whilst others fall
• Beneath his feet, embrace and worship him;
• Meantime the names of God, of peace, and freedom,
• Are echoed through the all-believing crowd;
• Whilst Zopir’s dying party bellows forth
• In idle threats its impotent revenge:
• Amidst their cries, unruffled and serene,
• In triumph walks the god-like Mahomet,
• Bearing the olive in his hand; already
• Peace is proclaimed, and see! the conqueror comes.

SCENE III.

mahomet, omar, hercides, seid, palmira,Attendants.

mahomet.

• My friends, and fellow-laborers, valiant Ali,
• Morad, and Ammon, and Hercides, hence
• To your great work, and in my name instruct
• The people, lead them to the paths of truth,
• Promise and threaten; let my God alone
• Be worshipped, and let those who will not love
• Be taught to fear him.—Seid, art thou here?

seid.

• My ever-honored father, and my king,
• Led by that power divine who guided thee
• To Mecca’s walls, preventing your commands
• I came, prepared to live or die with thee.

mahomet.

• You should have waited for my orders; he
• Who goes beyond his duty knows it not;
• I am heaven’s minister, and thou art mine;
• Learn then of me to serve and to obey.

palmira.

• Forgive, my lord, a youth’s impatient ardor:
• Brought up together from our infant years,
• The same our fortunes, and our thoughts the same:
• Alas! my life has been a life of sorrow;
• Long have I languished in captivity,
• Far from my friends, from Seid, and from thee;
• And now at last, when I beheld a ray
• Of comfort shining on me, thy unkindness
• Blasts my fair hopes, and darkens all the scene.

mahomet.

• Palmira, ’tis enough: I know thy virtues;
• Let naught disturb thee: spite of all my cares,
• Glory, and empire, and the weight of war,
• I will remember thee; Palmira still
• Lives in my heart, and shares it with mankind:
• Seid shall join our troops; thou, gentle maid,
• Mayest serve thy God in peace: fear naught but Zopir.

SCENE IV.

mahomet, omar.

mahomet.

• Brave Omar, stay, for in thy faithful bosom
• Will I repose the secrets of my soul:
• The lingering progress of a doubtful siege
• May stop our rapid course; we must not give
• These weak deluded mortals too much time
• To pry into our actions; prejudice
• Rules o’er the vulgar with despotic sway.
• Thou knowest there is a tale which I have spread
• And they believe, that universal empire
• Awaits the prophet, who to Mecca’s walls
• Shall lead his conquering bands, and bring her peace.
• ’Tis mine to mark the errors of mankind,
• And to avail me of them; but whilst thus
• I try each art to soothe this fickle people,
• What thinks my friend of Seid and Palmira?

omar.

• I think most nobly of them, that amidst
• Those few staunch followers who own no God,
• No faith but thine, who love thee as their father,
• Their friend, and benefactor, none obey
• Or serve thee with an humbler, better mind;
• They are most faithful.

mahomet.

• Omar, thou art deceived;
• They are my worst of foes, they love each other.

omar.

• And can you blame their tenderness?

mahomet.

• My friend,
• I’ll tell thee all my weakness.

omar.

• How, my lord!

mahomet.

• Thou knowest the reigning passion of my soul;
• Whilst proud ambition and the cares of empire
• Weighed heavy on me, Mahomet’s hard life
• Has been a conflict with opposing Nature,
• Whom I have vanquished by austerity,
• And self-denial; have banished from me
• That baleful poison which unnerves mankind,
• Which only serves to fire them into madness,
• And brutal follies; on the burning sand
• Or desert rocks I brave the inclement sky,
• And bear the seasons’ rough vicissitude:
• Love is my only solace, the dear object
• Of all my toils, the idol I adore,
• The god of Mahomet, the powerful rival
• Of my ambition: know, midst all my queens,
• Palmira reigns sole mistress of my heart:
• Think then what pangs of jealousy thy friend
• Must feel when she expressed her fatal passion
• For Seid.

omar.

• But thou art revenged.

mahomet.

• Judge thou
• If soon I ought not to take vengeance on them:
• That thou mayest hate my rival more, I’ll tell thee
• Who Seid and Palmira are—the children
• Of him whom I abhor, my deadliest foe.

omar.

• Ha! Zopir!

mahomet.

• Is their father: fifteen years
• Are past since brave Hercides to my care
• Gave up their infant years; they know not yet
• Or who or what they are; I brought them up
• Together; I indulged their lawless passion,
• And added fuel to the guilty flame.
• Methinks it is as if the hand of heaven
• Had meant in them to centre every crime.
• But I must—Ha! their father comes this way,
• His eyes are full of bitterness and wrath
• Against me—now be vigilant, my Omar,
• Hercides must be careful to possess
• This most important pass; return, and tell me
• Whether ’tis most expedient to declare
• Against him, or retreat: away.

SCENE V.

zopir, mahomet.

zopir.

• Hard fate!
• Unhappy Zopir! thus compelled to meet
• My worst of foes, the foe of all mankind!

mahomet.

• Since ’tis the will of heaven that Mahomet
• And Zopir should at length unite, approach
• Without a blush, and fearless tell thy tale.

zopir.

• I blush for thee alone, whose baneful arts
• Have drawn thy country to the brink of ruin;
• Who in the bosom of fair peace wouldst wage
• Intestine war, loosen the sacred bonds
• Of friendship, and destroy our happiness;
• Beneath the veil of proffered terms thou meanest
• But to betray, whilst discord stalks before thee:
• Thou vile assemblage of hypocrisy
• And insolence, abhorred tyrant! thus
• Do the chosen ministers of heaven dispense
• Its sacred blessings, and announce their God?

mahomet.

• Wert thou not Zopir, I would answer thee
• As thou deservest, in thunder, by the voice
• Of that offended Being thou deridest:
• Armed with the hallowed Koran I would teach thee
• To tremble and obey in humble silence:
• And with the subject world to kneel before me;
• But I will talk to thee without disguise,
• As man to man should speak, and friend to friend:
• I have ambition, Zopir; where’s the man
• Who has it not? but never citizen,
• Or chief, or priest, or king projected aught
• So noble as the plan of Mahomet;
• In acts or arms hath every nation shone
• Superior in its turn; Arabia now
• Steps forth; that generous people, long unknown
• And unrespected, saw her glories sunk,
• Her honors lost; but, lo! the hour is come
• When she shall rise to victory and renown;
• The world lies desolate from pole to pole;
• India’s slaves, and bleeding Persia mourns
• Her slaughtered sons; whilst Egypt hangs the head
• Dejected; from the walls of Constantine
• Splendor is fled; the Roman Empire torn
• By discord, sees its scattered members spread
• On every side inglorious;—let us raise
• Arabia on the ruins of mankind:
• The blind and tottering universe demands
• Another worship, and another God.
• Crete had her Minos, Egypt her Osiris,
• To Asia Zoroaster gave his laws,
• And Numa was in Italy adored:
• O’er savage nations where nor monarchs ruled
• Nor manners softened, nor religion taught,
• Hath many a sage his fruitless maxims spread;
• Beneath a nobler yoke I mean to bend
• The prostrate world, and change their feeble laws,
• Abolish their false worship, pull down
• Their powerless gods, and on my purer faith
• Found universal empire: say not, Zopir,
• That Mahomet betrays his country, no:
• I mean but to destroy its weak supports,
• And, banishing idolatry, unite it
• Beneath one king, one prophet, and one God;
• I shall subdue it but to make it glorious.

zopir.

• Is this thy purpose then, and darest thou thus
• Avow it? canst thou change the hearts of men,
• And make them think like thee? are war and slaughter
• The harbingers of wisdom and of peace;
• Can he who ravages instruct mankind?
• If in the night of ignorance and error
• We long have wandered, must thy dreadful torch
• Enlighten us? What right hast thou to empire?

mahomet.

• That right which firm, exalted spirits claim
• O’er vulgar minds.

zopir.

• Thus every bold impostor
• May forge new fetters, and enslave mankind:
• He has a right, it seems, to cheat the world
• If he can do it with an air of grandeur.

mahomet.

• I know your people well; I know they want
• A leader; my religion, true or false,
• Is needful to them: what have all your gods
• And all your idols done? what laurels grow
• Beneath their altars? your low, grovelling sect
• Debases man, unnerves his active soul,
• And makes it heavy, phlegmatic, and mean;
• Whilst mine exalts it, gives it strength and courage:
• My law forms heroes.

zopir.

• Rather call them robbers:
• Away; nor bring thy hateful lessons here;
• Go to the school of tyrants, boast thy frauds
• To lost Medina, where thou reignest supreme,
• Where blinded bigots bend beneath thy power,
• And thou beholdest thy equals at thy feet.

mahomet.

• My equals! Mahomet has none; long since
• I passed them all; Medina is my own,
• And Mecca trembles at me; if thou holdest
• Thy safety dear, receive the peace I offer.

zopir.

• Thou talkest of peace, but ’tis not in thy heart;
• I’m not to be deceived.

mahomet.

• I would not have thee;
• The weak deceive, the powerful command:
• To-morrow I shall force thee to submit;
• To-day, observe, I would have been thy friend.

zopir.

• Can we be friends? can Mahomet and Zopir
• E’er be united? say, what god shall work
• A miracle like that?

mahomet.

• I’ll tell thee one,
• A powerful God, one that is always heard,
• By me he speaks to thee.

zopir.

• Who is it? name him.

mahomet.

• Interest, thy own dear interest.

zopir.

• Sooner heaven
• And hell shall be united; interest
• May be the god of Mahomet, but mine
• Is—justice: what shall join them to each other?
• Where is the cement that must bind our friendship?
• Is it that son I slew, or the warm blood
• Of Zopir’s house which thou has shed?

mahomet.

• It is
• Thy blood, thy son’s—for now I will unveil
• A secret to thee, known to none but me:
• Thou weepest thy children dead; they both are—living.

zopir.

• What sayest thou? living? unexpected bliss!
• My children living?

mahomet.

• Yes; and both—my prisoners.

zopir.

• My children slaves to thee? impossible!

mahomet.

• My bounty nourished them.

zopir.

• And couldst thou spare
• A child of Zopir’s?

mahomet.

• For their father’s faults
• I would not punish them.

zopir.

• But tell me, say,
• For what are they reserved?

mahomet.

• Their life or death
• Depend on me: speak but the word, and thou
• Art master of their fate.

zopir.

• O name the price
• And thou shalt have it; must I give my blood,
• Or must I bear their chains, and be the slave
• Of Mahomet?

mahomet.

• I ask not either of thee:
• Lend me thy aid but to subdue the world;
• Surrender Mecca to me, and give up
• Your temple, bid the astonished people read
• My sacred Koran; be thou my vassal,
• And fall before me, then will I restore
• Thy son, perhaps hereafter may reward thee
• With honors, and contract a closer tie
• With Zopir.

zopir.

• Mahomet, thou seest in me
• A tender father: after fifteen years
• Of cruel absence, to behold my children,
• To die in their embraces, were the first
• And fairest blessings that my soul could wish for;
• But if to thee I must betray my country,
• Or sacrifice my children, know, proud tyrant,
• The choice is made already—fare thee well.

mahomet.

• Inexorable dotard! but henceforth
• I will be more implacable, more cruel
• Even than thyself.

SCENE VI.

mahomet, omar.

omar.

• And so indeed thou must be,
• Or all is lost: already I have bought
• Their secret counsels: Mahomet, to-morrow
• The truce expires, and Zopir reassumes
• His power; thy life’s in danger: half the senate
• Are leagued against thee: those who dare not fight
• May hire the dark assassin to destroy thee;
• May screen their guilt beneath the mask of justice,
• And call the murder legal punishment.

mahomet.

• First they shall feel my vengeance: persecution,
• Thou knowest, has ever been my best support.
• Zopir must die.

omar.

• ’Tis well resolved: his fate
• Will teach the rest obedience: lose no time.

mahomet.

• Yet, spite of my resentment, I must hide
• The murderous hand that deals the blow, to ’scape
• Suspicion’s watchful eye, and not incense
• The multitude.

omar.

• They are not worth our care.

mahomet.

• And yet they must be pleased: I want an arm
• That will strike boldly.

omar.

• Seid is the man;
• I’ll answer for him.

mahomet.

• Seid?

omar.

• Ay: the best,
• The fittest instrument to serve our purpose:
• As Zopir’s hostage he may find occasion
• To speak with him, and soon avenge his master.
• Thy other favorites are too wise, too prudent
• For such a dangerous enterprise; old age
• Takes off the bandage of credulity
• From mortal eyes; but the young, simple heart,
• The willing slave to its own fond opinions,
• And void of guile, will act as we direct it:
• Youth is the proper period for delusion.
• Seid, thou knowest, is superstitious, bold,
• And violent, but easy to be led;
• Like a tame lion, to his keeper’s voice
• Obedient.

mahomet.

• What! the brother of Palmira?

omar.

• Ay; Seid, the fierce son of thy proud foe,
• The incestuous rival of great Mahomet,
• His master’s rival.

mahomet.

• I detest him, Omar,
• Abhor his very name; my murdered son
• Cries out for vengeance on him; but thou knowest
• The object of my love, and whence she sprung:
• Thou seest I am oppressed on every side;
• I would have altars, victims, and a throne;
• I would have Zopir’s blood, and Seid’s too:
• I must consult my interest, my revenge,
• My honor, and my love, that fatal passion,
• Which, spite of my resentment, holds this heart
• In shameful chains: I must consult religion,
• All powerful motive, and necessity
• That throws a veil o’er every crime: away.

End of the Second Act.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

seid, palmira.

palmira.

• O Seid, keep me not in dread suspense,
• What is this secret sacrifice? what blood
• Hath heaven demanded?

seid.

• The eternal power
• Deigns to accept my service, calls on me
• To execute its purposes divine;
• To him this heart’s devoted, and for him
• This arm shall rise in vengeance; I am bound
• To Omar and to Mahomet, have sworn
• To perish in the glorious cause of heaven:
• My next and dearest care shall be Palmira.

palmira.

• Why was not I a witness to thy oath?
• Had I been with thee, I had been less wretched;
• But doubts distract me: Omar talks of treason,
• Of blood that soon must flow; the senate’s rage,
• And Zopir’s dark intrigues: the flames of war
• Once more are kindled, and the sword is drawn
• Heaven only knows when to be sheathed again:
• So says our prophet, he who cannot lie,
• Cannot deceive us: O I fear for Seid,
• Fear all from Zopir.

seid.

• Can he have a heart
• So base and so perfidious? but this morning,
• When as a hostage I appeared before him,
• I thought him noble, generous, and humane;
• Some power invincible in secret worked,
• And won me to him; whether the respect
• Due to his name, or specious form external
• Concealed the blackness of his heart I know not;
• Whether thy presence filled my raptured soul
• With joy that drove out every painful sense,
• And would not let me think of aught but thee:
• Whate’er the cause, methought I was most happy
• When nearest him: that he should thus seduce
• My easy heart makes me detest him more;
• And yet how hard it is to look on those
• With eyes of hatred whom we wish to love!

palmira.

• By every bond hath heaven united us,
• And Seid and Palmira are the same:
• Were I not bound to thee, and to that faith
• Which Mahomet inspires, I too had pleaded
• The cause of Zopir; but religion, love,
• And nature, all forbid it.

seid.

• Think no more
• Of vain remorse, but listen to the voice
• Of heaven, the God we serve will be propitious:
• Our holy prophet who protects his children
• Will bless our faithful love: for thy dear sake
• I hazard all. Farewell.

SCENE II.

palmira.

• [Alone.
• Some dark presage
• Of future misery hangs o’er me still:
• That love which made my happiness, this day,
• So often wished for, is a day of horror:
• What is this dreadful oath, this solemn compact
• Which Seid talks of? I’ve a thousand fears
• Upon me when I think of Zopir: oft
• As I invoke great Mahomet, I feel
• A secret dread, and tremble as I worship:
• O save me, heaven! fearful I obey,
• And blind I follow: O direct my steps
• Aright, and deign to wash my tears away!

SCENE III.

mahomet, palmira.

palmira.

• Propitious heaven hath heard my prayers; he comes,
• The prophet comes. O gracious Mahomet,
• My Seid—

mahomet.

• What of him? thou seemest disturbed;
• What should Palmira fear when I am with her!

palmira.

• Have I not cause when Mahomet himself
• Seems touched with grief?

mahomet.

• Perhaps it is for thee:
• Darest thou, imprudent maid, avow a passion
• Ere I approved it: is the heart I formed
• Turned rebel to its master, to my laws
• Unfaithful? O ingratitude!

palmira.

• My lord,
• Behold me at your feet, and pity me:
• Didst thou not once propitious smile upon us,
• And give thy sanction to our growing love?
• Thou knowest the virtuous passion that unites us
• Is but a chain that binds us more to thee.

mahomet.

• The bonds that folly and imprudence knit
• Are dangerous; guilt doth sometimes follow close
• The steps of innocence: our hearts deceive us,
• And love, with all his store of dear delights,
• May cost us tears, and dip his shafts in blood.

palmira.

• Nor would I murmur if it flowed for Seid.

mahomet.

• Are you indeed so fond?

palmira.

• E’er since the day
• When good Hercides to thy sacred power
• Consigned us both, unconquerable instinct,
• Still growing with our years, united us
• In tender friendship; ’twas the work of heaven
• That guides our every action, and o’errules
• The fate of mortals; so thy doctrines teach:
• God cannot change, nor gracious heaven condemn
• That love itself inspired: what once was right
• Is always so; canst thou then blame Palmira?

mahomet.

• I can, and must; nay, thou wilt tremble more
• When I reveal the horrid secret to thee.
• Attend, rash maid, and let me teach thy soul
• What to avoid, and what to follow: listen
• To me alone.

palmira.

• To thee alone Palmira
• Will listen ever, the obedient slave
• Of Mahomet; this heart can never lose
• Its veneration for thy sacred name.

mahomet.

• That veneration in excess may lead
• To foul ingratitude.

palmira.

• When I forget
• Thy goodness, then may Seid punish me!

mahomet.

• Seid!

palmira.

• O why, my lord, that cruel frown,
• And look severe?

mahomet.

• Be not alarmed; I meant
• But to explore the secrets of thy heart,
• And try if thou wert worthy to be saved:
• Be confident, and rest on my protection;
• On your obedience will depend your fate;
• If ye expect a blessing at my hands,
• Be careful to deserve it, and whate’er
• The will of heaven determines touching Seid,
• Be thou his guide, direct him in the paths
• Of duty, and religion; let him keep
• His promise, and be worthy of Palmira.

palmira.

• O he will keep it; doubt him not, my lord,
• I’ll answer for his heart as for my own;
• Seid adores thee, worships Mahomet
• More than he loves Palmira; thou art all
• To him, his friend, his father, and his king:
• I’ll fly, and urge him to his duty.

SCENE IV.

mahomet.

[Alone.

• Well:
• Spite of myself I must, it seems, be made
• A confidant; the simple girl betrayed
• Her guilty flame, and innocently plunged
• The dagger in my heart: unhappy race!
• Father and children, all my foes, all doomed
• To make me wretched! but ye soon shall prove
• That dreadful is my hatred—and my love.

SCENE V.

mahomet, omar.

omar.

• At length the hour is come, to seize Palmira,
• To conquer Mecca, and to punish Zopir;
• His death alone can prop our feeble cause,
• And humble these proud citizens: brave Seid
• Can best avenge thee; he has free access
• To Zopir: yonder gloomy passage leads
• To his abode; there the rebellious chief
• His idle vows and flattering incense pours
• Before his fancied deities; there Seid,
• Full of the law divine by thee inspired,
• Shall sacrifice the traitor to the God
• Of Mahomet.

mahomet.

• He shall: that youth was born
• For crimes of deepest dye: he shall be first
• My useful slave, my instrument, and then
• The victim of my rage; it must be so:
• My safety, my resentment, and my love,
• My holy faith, and the decrees of fate
• Irrevocable, all require it of me:
• But thinkest thou, Omar, he hath all the warmth
• Of wild fanaticism?

omar.

• I know he has,
• And suits our purpose well; Palmira, too,
• Will urge him on; religion, love, resentment
• Will blind his headstrong youth, and hurry him
• To madness.

mahomet.

• Hast thou bound him by an oath?

omar.

• O yes; in all the gloomy pomp of rites
• Nocturnal, oaths, and altars, we have fixed
• His superstitious soul, placed in his hand
• The sacred sword, and fired him with the rage
• Of fierce enthusiasm—but behold him.

SCENE VI.

mahomet, omar, seid.

mahomet.

• Child
• Of heaven, decreed to execute the laws
• Of an offended God, now hear by me
• His sacred will: thou must avenge his cause.

seid.

• O thou, to whom my soul devoted bends
• In humblest adoration, king, and prophet,
• Sovereign, acknowledged by the voice of heaven,
• O’er prostrate nations—I am wholly thine:
• But O enlighten my dark mind! O say,
• How can weak man avenge his God?

mahomet.

• Oft-times
• Doth he make use of feeble hands like thine
• To punish impious mortals, and assert
• His power divine.

seid.

• Will he, whose perfect image
• Is seen in Mahomet, thus condescend
• To honor Seid?

mahomet.

• Do as he ordains;
• That is the highest honor man can boast,
• Blindly to execute his great decree:
• Be thankful for the choice, and strike the blow:
• The angel of destruction shall assist,
• The God of armies shall protect thee.

seid.

• Speak;
• What tyrant must be slain? what blood must flow?

mahomet.

• The murderer’s blood whom Mahomet abhors,
• Who persecutes our faith, and spurns our God,
• Who slew my son; the worst of all my foes,
• The cruel Zopir.

seid.

• Ha! must Zopir fall?

mahomet.

• And dost thou pause? presumptuous youth! ’tis impious
• But to deliberate: far from Mahomet
• Be all who for themselves shall dare to judge
• Audacious; those who reason are not oft
• Prone to believe; thy part is to obey.
• Have I not told thee what the will of heaven
• Determines? if it be decreed that Mecca,
• Spite of her crimes and base idolatry,
• Shall be the promised temple, the chosen seat
• Of empire, where I am appointed king,
• And pontiff, knowest thou why our Mecca boasts
• These honors? knowest thou holy Abram here
• Was born, that here his sacred ashes rest?
• He who, obedient to the voice of God,
• Stifled the cries of nature, and gave up
• His darling child: the same all-powerful Being
• Requires of thee a sacrifice; to thee
• He calls for blood; and darest thou hesitate
• When God commands? hence, vile idolater,
• Unworthy Mussulman, away, and seek
• Another master; go, and love Palmira;
• But thou despisest her, and bravest the wrath
• Of angry heaven; away, forsake thy lord,
• And serve his deadliest foes.

seid.

• It is the voice
• Of God that speaks in Mahomet:—command,
• And I obey.

mahomet.

• Strike, then, and by the blood
• Of Zopir merit life eternal.—Omar,
• Attend and watch him well.

SCENE VII.

seid.

• [Alone.
• To sacrifice
• A poor, defenceless, weak old man!—no matter:
• How many victims at the altar fall
• As helpless! yet their blood in grateful streams
• Rises to heaven: God hath appointed me;
• Seid hath sworn, and Seid shall perform
• His sacred promise:—O assist me now,
• Illustrious spirits, you who have destroyed
• The tyrants of the earth, O join your rage
• To mine, O guide this trembling hand, and thou
• Exterminating angel who defendest
• The cause of Mahomet, inspire this heart
• With all thy fierceness!—ha! what do I see?

SCENE VIII.

zopir, seid.

zopir.

• Seid, thou seemest disturbed; unhappy youth!
• Why art thou ranked amongst my foes? my heart
• Feels for thy woes, and trembles at thy danger;
• Horrors on horrors crowd on every side;
• My house may be a shelter from the storm.
• Accept it, thou art welcome, for thy life
• Is dear to Zopir.

seid.

• Gracious heaven! wilt thou
• Protect me thus? will Zopir guard his foe?
• What do I hear! O duty, conscience, virtue!
• O Mahomet, this rives my heart.

zopir.

• Perhaps
• Thou art surprised to find that I can pity
• An enemy, and wish for Seid’s welfare;
• I am a man like thee; that tie alone
• Demands at least a sympathetic tear
• For innocence afflicted: gracious gods,
• Drive from this earth those base and savage men,
• Who shed with joy their fellow-creatures’ blood.

seid.

• O glorious sentiments! and can there be
• Such virtue in an infidel?

zopir.

• Thou knowest
• But little of that virtue, thus to stand
• Astonished at it! O mistaken youth,
• In what a maze of errors art thou lost!
• Bound by a tyrant’s savage laws, thou thinkest
• Virtue resides in Mussulmans alone;
• Thy master rules thee with a rod of iron,
• And shackles thy free soul in shameful bonds;
• Zopir thou hatest, alas! thou knowest him not:
• I pardon thee because thou art the slave
• Of Mahomet; but how canst thou believe
• A God who teaches hatred, and delights
• In discord?

seid.

• O I never can obey him!
• I know, and feel I cannot hate thee, Zopir.

zopir.

• Alas! the more I talk to him, the more
• He gains upon me; his ingenuous look,
• His youth, his candor, all conspire to charm me;
• How could a follower of this vile impostor
• Thus win my heart! who gave thee birth? what art thou?

seid.

• A wretched orphan; all I have on earth
• Is a kind master, whom I never yet
• Have disobeyed; howe’er my love for thee
• May tempt me to betray him.

zopir.

• Knowest thou not
• Thy parents then?

seid.

• His camp was the first object
• My eyes beheld; his temple is my country;
• I know no other; and amidst the crowd
• Of yearly tributes to our holy prophet,
• None e’er was treated with more tenderness
• Than Seid was.

zopir.

• I love his gratitude:
• Thy kind return for benefits received
• Merits my praise:—O why did heaven employ
• The hand of Mahomet in such an office?
• He was thy father, and Palmira’s, too;
• Why dost thou sigh? why dost thou tremble thus?
• Why turn thee from me? sure some dreadful thought
• Hangs on thy mind.

seid.

• It must be so: the times
• Are full of terror.

zopir.

• If thou feelest remorse
• Thy heart is guiltless; murder is abroad,
• Let me preserve thy life.

seid.

• O gracious heaven!
• And can I have a thought of taking thine?
• Palmira! O my oath! O God of vengeance!

zopir.

• For the last time remember I entreat thee
• To follow me; away, thy fate depends
• Upon this moment.

SCENE IX.

zopir, seid, omar.

omar.

• [Entering hastily.
• Traitor, Mahomet
• Expects thee.

seid.

• O I know not where or what
• I am; destruction, ruin and despair
• On every side await me: whither now
• Shall wretched Seid fly?

omar.

• To him whom God
• Hath chosen, thy injured king, and master.

seid.

• Yes:
• And there abjure the dreadful oath I made.

SCENE X.

zopir.

• [Alone.
• The desperate youth is gone—I know not why,
• But my heart beats for his distress; his looks,
• His pity, his remorse, his every action
• Affect me deeply: I must follow him.

SCENE XI.

zopir, phanor.

phanor.

• This letter, sir, was by an Arab given
• In secret to me.

zopir.

• From Hercides! gods,
• What do I read? will heaven in tenderest pity
• At length repay me for a life of sorrows?
• Hercides begs to see me—he who snatched
• From this fond bosom my two helpless children;
• They yet are living, so this paper tells me,
• Slaves to the tyrant—Seid and Palmira
• Are orphans both, and know not whence they sprang,
• Perhaps my children—O delusive hope,
• Why wilt thou flatter me? it cannot be;
• Fain would I credit thee, thou sweet deceiver:
• I fly to meet and to embrace my children;
• Yes; I will see Hercides: let him come
• At midnight to me, to this holy altar,
• Where I so often have invoked the gods,
• At last, perhaps, propitious to my vows:
• O ye immortal powers, restore my children,
• Give back to virtue’s paths two generous hearts
• Corrupted by an impious, vile usurper!
• If Seid and Palmira are not mine,
• If such is my hard fate, I will adopt
• The noble pair, and be their father still.

End of the Third Act.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

mahomet, omar.

omar.

• My lord, our secret is discovered; Seid
• Has told Hercides; we are on the verge
• Of ruin, yet I know he will obey.

mahomet.

• Revealed it, sayest thou?

omar.

• Yes: Hercides loves him
• With tenderness.

mahomet.

• Indeed! What said he to it?

omar.

• He stood aghast and seemed to pity Zopir.

mahomet.

• He’s weak, and therefore not to be entrusted;
• Fools ever will be traitors; but no matter,
• Let him take heed; a method may be found
• To rid us of such dangerous witnesses:
• Say, Omar, have my orders been obeyed?

omar.

• They have, my lord.

mahomet.

• ’Tis well: remember, Omar,
• In one important hour or Mahomet
• Or Zopir is no more; if Zopir dies,
• The credulous people will adore that God
• Who thus declared for me, and saved his prophet:
• Be this our first great object; that once done,
• Take care of Seid; art thou sure the poison
• Will do its office?

omar.

• Fear it not, my lord.

mahomet.

• O we must work in secret, the dark shades
• Of death must hide our purpose—while we shed
• Old Zopir’s blood, be sure you keep Palmira
• In deepest ignorance; she must not know
• The secret of her birth: her bliss and mine
• Depend upon it; well thou knowest, my triumphs
• From error’s fruitful source incessant flow:
• The ties of blood, and all their boasted power
• Are mere delusions: what are nature’s bonds?
• Nothing but habit, the mere force of custom:
• Palmira knows no duty but obedience
• To me; I am her lord, her king, her father,
• Perhaps may add the name of husband to them:
• Her little heart will beat with proud ambition
• To captivate her master—but the hour
• Approaches that must rid me of my foe,
• The hated Zopir: Seid is prepared—
• And see, he comes: let us retire.

omar.

• Observe
• His wild demeanor; rage and fierce resentment
• Possess his soul.

SCENE II.

mahomet, omar,retired to one side of the stage;seidat the farther end.

seid.

• This dreadful duty then
• Must be fulfilled.

mahomet.

[To Omar.

• Let us begone, in search
• Of other means to make our power secure.
• [Exit with Omar.

seid.

[Alone.

• I could not answer: one reproachful word
• From Mahomet sufficed: I stood abashed,
• But not convinced: if heaven requires it of me,
• I must obey; but it will cost me dear.

SCENE III.

seid, palmira.

seid.

• Palmira, art thou here? what fatal cause
• Hath led thee to this seat of horror?

palmira.

• Fear
• And love directed me to find thee, Seid,
• To ask thee what dread sacrifice thou meanest
• To offer here; do heaven and Mahomet
• Demand it of thee, must it be? O speak.

seid.

• Palmira, thou commandest my every thought
• And every action; all depend on thee:
• Direct them as thou wilt, inform my soul,
• And guide my hand: be thou my guardian god,
• Explain the will of heaven which yet I know not;
• Why am I chosen to be its instrument
• Of vengeance? are the prophet’s dread commands
• Irrevocable?

palmira.

• Seid, we must yield in silence,
• Nor dare to question his decrees; he hears
• Our secret sighs, nor are our sorrows hid
• From Mahomet’s all-seeing eye: to doubt
• Is profanation of the deity.
• His God is God alone; he could not else
• Be thus victorious, thus invincible.

seid.

• He must be Seid’s God who is Palmira’s:
• Yet cannot my astonished soul conceive
• A being, tender, merciful, and kind,
• Commanding murder; then again I think
• To doubt is guilt: the priest without remorse
• Destroys the victim: by the voice of heaven
• I know that Zopir was condemned, I know
• That Seid was predestined to support
• The law divine: so Mahomet ordained,
• And I obey him; fired with holy zeal
• I go to slay the enemy of God;
• And yet methinks another deity
• Draws back my arm, and bids me spare the victim:
• Religion lost her power when I beheld
• The wretched Zopir; duty urged in vain
• Her cruel plea, exhorting me to murder;
• With joy I listened to the plaintive voice
• Of soft humanity: but Mahomet—
• How awful! how majestic! who can bear
• His wrath? his frowns reproached my shameful weakness;
• Religion is a dreadful power: alas!
• Palmira, I am lost in doubts and fears,
• Discordant passions tear this feeble heart:
• I must be impious, must desert my faith,
• Or be a murderer: Seid was not formed
• For an assassin; but ’tis heaven’s command,
• And I have promised to avenge its cause:
• The tears of grief and rage united flow,
• Contending duties raise a storm within,
• And thou alone, Palmira, must appease it;
• Fix my uncertain heart, and give it peace:
• Alas! without this dreadful sacrifice,
• The tie that binds us is forever broke;
• This only can secure thee.

palmira.

• Am I then
• The price of blood, of Zopir’s blood?

seid.

• So heaven
• And Mahomet decree.

palmira.

• Love ne’er was meant
• To make us cruel, barbarous, and inhuman.

seid.

• To Zopir’s murderer, and to him alone,
• Palmira must be given.

palmira.

• O hard condition!

seid.

• But ’tis the will of Mahomet and heaven.

palmira.

• Alas!

seid.

• Thou knowest the dreadful curse that waits
• On disobedience—everlasting pain.

palmira.

• If thou must be the instrument of vengeance,
• If at thy hands the blood which thou hast promised
• Shall be required—

seid.

• What’s to be done?

palmira.

• I tremble
• To think of it—yet—

seid.

• It must be so then: thou
• Hast fixed his doom; Palmira has consented.

palmira.

• Did I consent?

seid.

• Thou didst.

palmira.

• Detested thought!
• What have I said?

seid.

• By thee the voice of heaven
• Speaks its last dread command, and I obey:
• Yon fatal altar is the chosen seat
• Of Zopir’s worship, there he bends the knee
• To his false gods; retire, my sweet Palmira.

palmira.

• I cannot leave thee.

seid.

• Thou must not be witness
• To such a deed of horror: these, Palmira,
• Are dreadful moments: fly to yonder grove,
• Thou wilt be near the prophet there: away.

palmira.

• Zopir must die then?

seid.

• Yes: this fatal hand
• Must drag him to the earth, there murder him,
• And bathe yon ruined altar in his blood.

palmira.

• Die by thy hand! I shudder at the thought:
• But see! he comes; just heaven!
• [The farther part of the stage opens, and discovers an altar.

SCENE IV.

seid, palmira,on one side;zopir,standing near the altar.

zopir.

• Ye guardian gods
• Of Mecca, threatened by an impious sect
• Of vile impostors, now assert your power,
• And let your Zopir’s prayers, perhaps the last
• He e’er shall make, be heard! the feeble bonds
• Of our short peace are broken, and fierce war
• Vindictive rages; O if ye support
• The cause of this usurper—

seid.

[Aside to Palmira.

• Hear, Palmira,
• How he blasphemes!

zopir.

• May death be Zopir’s lot!
• I wish for naught on earth but to behold,
• In my last hour, and to embrace my children,
• To die in their loved arms, if yet they live,
• If they are here, for something whispers me
• That I shall see them still.

palmira.

[Aside to Seid.

• His children, said he?

zopir.

• O I should die with pleasure at the sight:
• Watch over and protect them, ye kind gods,
• O let them think like me, but not like me
• Be wretched!

seid.

• See! he prays to his false gods:
• This is the time to end him.
• [Draws his sword.

palmira.

• Do not, Seid.

seid.

• To serve my God, to please and merit thee,
• This sword, devoted to the cause of heaven,
• Is drawn, and shall destroy its deadliest foe:
• Yon dreary walk invites me to the deed,
• Methinks the path is bloody, wandering ghosts
• Glide through the shade, and beckon me away.

palmira.

• What sayest thou, Seid?

seid.

• Ministers of death,
• I follow you; conduct me to the altar,
• And guide my trembling hand!

palmira.

• It must not be;
• ’Tis horrible: O stop, my Seid.

seid.

• No:
• The hour is come, and see! the altar shakes.

palmira.

• ’Tis heaven’s assent, and we must doubt no more.

seid.

• Means it to urge me on, or to restrain?
• Our prophet will reproach me for this weakness:
• Palmira!

palmira.

• Well!

seid.

• Address thyself to heaven:
• I go to do the deed.
• [He goes behind the altar where Zopir is retired.

palmira.

[Alone.

• O dreadful moment!
• What do I feel within! my blood runs cold:
• And yet if heaven demands the sacrifice,
• Am I to judge, to ask, or to complain?
• Where is the heart that knows itself, that knows
• Its innocence or guilt? We must obey:
• But hark! methought I heard the plaintive voice
• Of death; the deed is done—alas! my Seid.

seid.

[Returns looking wildly around.

• What voice was that? where am I? where’s Palmira?
• I cannot see Palmira; O she’s gone,
• She’s lost forever.

palmira.

• Art thou blind to her
• Who only lives for thee?

seid.

• Where are we?

palmira.

• Speak,
• My Seid, is the dreadful sacrifice
• Performed, and thy sad promise all fulfilled?

seid.

• What sayest thou?

palmira.

• Zopir? is he dead?

seid.

• Who? Zopir?

palmira.

• Good heaven, preserve his senses!—come, my Seid,
• Let us be gone.

seid.

• How will these tottering limbs
• Support me!—I recover—is it you,
• Palmira?

palmira.

• Yes: what hast thou done?

seid.

• Obeyed
• The voice of heaven, seized with this desperate hand
• His silver hairs, and dragged him to the earth:
• ’Twas thy command: O God! thou couldst not bid me
• Commit a crime! trembling and pale a while
• I stood aghast, then drew this sacred sword,
• And plunged it in his bosom: what a look
• Of tenderness and love the poor old man
• Cast on his murderer! a scene so mournful
• Ne’er did these eyes behold: my heart retains
• And will forever keep the sad idea:
• Would I were dead like him!

palmira.

• Let us repair
• To Mahomet, the prophet will protect us;
• Here you’re in danger; follow me.

seid.

• I cannot:
• Palmira, pity me.

palmira.

• What mournful thought
• Can thus depress thee?

seid.

• O if thou hadst seen
• His tender looks, when from his bleeding side
• He drew the fatal weapon forth, and cried:
• “Dear Seid, poor unhappy Seid!” Oh,
• That voice, those looks, and Zopir at my feet
• Weltering in blood, are still before my eyes:
• What have we done?

palmira.

• I tremble for thy life:
• O in the name of all the sacred ties
• That bind us, fly, and save thyself.

seid.

• Away,
• And leave me: why did thy ill-fated love
• Command this dreadful sacrifice, Palmira?
• Without thy cruel order heaven itself
• Had never been obeyed.

palmira.

• Unkind reproach!
• Couldst thou but know what thy Palmira suffers
• How wouldst thou pity her!

seid.

• What dreadful object
• Is that before us?
• [Zopir rises up slowly from behind the altar, and leans upon it.

palmira.

• ’Tis the murdered Zopir;
• Bloody and pale he drags his mangled limbs
• Towards us.

seid.

• Wilt thou go to him?

palmira.

• I must;
• For pity and remorse distract my soul,
• And draw me to him.

zopir.

[Comes forward leaning on Palmira.

• Gentle maid, support me!
• [He sits down.
• Ungrateful Seid, thou hast slain me; now
• Thou weepest; alas! too late.

SCENE V.

zopir, seid, palmira, phanor.

phanor.

• O dreadful sight!
• What’s here?

zopir.

• I wish I could have seen my friend
• Hercides—Phanor, art thou there?—behold
• My murderer.
• [Points to Seid.

phanor.

• O guilt! accursed deed!
• Unhappy Seid, look upon—thy father.

seid.

• Who?

palmira.

• He?

seid.

• My father?

zopir.

• Gracious heaven!

phanor.

• Hercides
• In his last moments took me in his arms,
• And weeping cried: “If there be time, O haste
• Prevent a parricide, and stop the arm
• Of Seid;” in my breast the tyrant lodged
• The dreadful secret; now I suffer for it,
• And die by Mahomet’s detested hand:
• Haste, Phanor, fly, inform the hapless Zopir,
• That Seid and Palmira are—his children.

seid.

• Palmira!

palmira.

• Thou my brother?

zopir.

• O ye gods!
• O nature, thou hast not deceived me then,
• When thou didst plead for them! unhappy Seid,
• What could have urged thee to so foul a deed?

seid.

• [Kneeling.
• My gratitude, my duty, my religion,
• All that mankind hold sacred, urged me on
• To do the worst of actions:—give me back
• That fatal weapon.

palmira.

• [Laying hold of Seid’s arm.
• Plunge it in my breast;
• I was the cause of my dear father’s murder;
• And incest is the price of parricide:

seid.

• Strike both: heaven hath not punishment enough
• For crimes like ours.

zopir.

• [Embracing them.
• Let me embrace my children:
• The gods have poured into my cup of sorrow
• A draught of sweetest happiness: I die,
• Contented, and resign me to my fate:
• But you must live, my children; you, my Seid,
• And you, Palmira, by the sacred name
• Of nature, by thy dying father’s blood,
• Fast flowing from the wound which thou hast made,
• Let me entreat you, live; revenge yourselves,
• Avenge the injured Zopir, but preserve
• Your gracious lives; the great, the important hour
• Approaches, that must change the mournful scene:
• The offended people, ere to-morrow’s dawn,
• Will rise in arms and punish the usurper;
• My blood will add fresh fuel to their rage;
• Let us await the issue.

seid.

• O I fly
• To sacrifice the monster, to take vengeance
• For a dear father’s life, or lose my own.

SCENE VI.

zopir, seid, palmira, omar,Attendants.

omar.

• Guards, seize the murderer; Mahomet is come
• To punish guilt, and execute the laws.

zopir.

• What do I hear?

seid.

• Did Mahomet command thee
• To punish Seid?

palmira.

• Execrable tyrant!
• Was not the murder done by thy command?

omar.

• ’Twas not commanded.

seid.

• Well have I deserved
• This just reward of my credulity.

omar.

• Soldiers, obey.

palmira.

• O stop, ye shall not—

omar.

• Madam,
• If Seid’s life is dear to you, submit
• With patience, lest the prophet’s anger fall
• Like thunder on your head; if you obey,
• Great Mahomet is able to protect you:
• Guards, lead her to the king.

palmira.

• O take me, death,
• From this sad scene of never-ending woe!
• [Seid and Palmira are carried off.

zopir.

• [To Phanor.
• They’re gone, they’re lost: O most unhappy father,
• The wound which Seid gave is not so deep,
• So painful as this parting.

phanor.

• See, my lord,
• The day appears, and the armed multitudes
• Press onward to defend the cause of Zopir.

zopir.

• Support me, Phanor: yet thy friend may live
• To punish this vile hypocrite; at least
• In death may serve my dear—my cruel—children.

End of the Fourth Act.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

mahomet, omar,Guards at a distance.

omar.

• Zopir’s approaching death alarms the people,
• We have endeavored to appease their clamors,
• And disavowed all knowledge of the deed;
• To some, we called it the avenging hand
• Of heaven that favors thus its prophet’s cause:
• With others, we lament his fall, and boast
• Thy awful justice that will soon avenge it.
• The crowd attentive listen to thy praise,
• And all the danger of the storm is o’er;
• If aught remains of busy faction’s rage
• It is but as the tossing of the waves
• After the tempest, when the vault of heaven
• Is placid and serene.

mahomet.

• Be it our care
• To keep it so: where are my valiant bands?

omar.

• All ready; Osman in the dead of night
• By secret paths conducted them to Mecca.

mahomet.

• ’Tis strange that men must either be deceived
• Or forced into obedience: Seid knows not
• It is a father’s blood that he has shed?

omar.

• Who could inform him of it? he alone
• Who knew the secret is no more; Hercides
• Is gone, and Seid soon shall follow him;
• For know, he has already drunk the poison;
• His crime was punished ere it was committed:
• Even whilst he dragged his father to the altar
• Death lurked within his veins; he cannot live:
• Palmira, too, is safe; she may be useful:
• I’ve given her hopes of Seid’s pardon: that
• May win her to our cause; she dare not murmur,
• Besides, her heart is flexible and soft,
• Formed to obey, to worship Mahomet,
• And make him soon the happiest of mankind:
• Trembling and pale, behold! they bring her to thee.

mahomet.

• Collect my forces, Omar, and return.

SCENE II.

mahomet, palmira,Guards.

palmira.

• O heaven! where am I? gracious God!

mahomet.

• Palmira,
• Be not alarmed; already I have fixed
• Thy fate and Mecca’s: know, the great event
• That fills thy soul with horror is a mystery
• ’Twixt heaven and me that’s not to be revealed:
• But thou art free, and happy: think no more
• Of Seid, nor lament him; leave to me
• The fate of men; be thankful for thy own:
• Thou knowest that Mahomet hath loved thee long,
• That I have ever been a father to thee;
• Perhaps a nobler fate, and fairer title
• May grace thee still, if thou deservest it; therefore
• Blot from thy memory the name of Seid,
• And let thy soul aspire to greater blessings
• Than it could dare to hope for; let thy heart
• Be my last noblest victory, and join
• The conquered world to own me for its master.

palmira.

• What joys, what blessings, or what happiness
• Can I expect from thee, thou vile impostor?
• Thou bloody savage! This alone was wanting,
• This cruel insult to complete my woes:
• Eternal Father, look upon this king,
• This holy prophet, this all-powerful god
• Whom I adored: thou monster, to betray
• Two guiltless hearts into the crying sin
• Of parricide; thou infamous seducer
• Of my unguarded youth, how darest thou think,
• Stained as thou art with my dear father’s blood,
• To gain Palmira’s heart? but know, proud tyrant,
• Thou art not yet invincible: the veil
• Is off that hid thee, and the hand of vengeance
• Upraised to scourge thy guilt: dost thou not hear
• The maddening multitude already armed
• In the defence of injured innocence?
• From death’s dark shades my murdered father comes
• To lead them on: O that these feeble hands
• Could tear thee piece-meal, thee and all thy train!
• Would I could see them weltering in their blood;
• See Mecca, and Medina, Asia, all
• Combined against thee! that the credulous world
• Would shake off thy vile chains, and thy religion
• Become the jest and scorn of all mankind
• To after ages! may that hell, whose threats
• Thou hast so often denounced ’gainst all who dared
• To doubt thy false divinity, now open
• Her fiery gates, and be thy just reward!
• These are the thanks I owe thee for thy bounties,
• And these the prayers I made for Mahomet.

mahomet.

• I see I am betrayed; but be it so:
• Whoe’er thou art, learn henceforth to obey;
• For know, my heart—

SCENE III.

mahomet, palmira, omar, ali,Attendants.

omar.

• The secret is revealed;
• Hercides told it in his dying moments:
• The people all enraged have forced the prison:
• They’re up in arms, and bearing on their shoulders
• The bloody corpse of their unhappy chief,
• Lament his fate, and cry aloud for vengeance:
• All is confusion: Seid at their head
• Excites them to rebellion, and cries out,
• “I am a parricide;” with rage and grief
• He seems distracted; with one voice the crowd
• Unite to curse the prophet and his God:
• Even those who promised to admit our forces
• Within the walls of Mecca, have conspired
• With them to raise their desperate arms against thee;
• And naught is heard but cries of death and vengeance.

palmira.

• Just heaven pursue him, and defend the cause
• Of innocence!

mahomet.

• [To Omar.
• Well, what have we to fear?

omar.

• Omar, my lord, with your few faithful friends,
• Despising danger, are prepared to brave
• The furious storm, and perish at your feet.

mahomet.

• Alone I will defend you all; come near:
• Behold, and say I act like Mahomet.

SCENE IV.

mahomet, omar,and his Party one side,seid,and the People on the other.palmirain the middle.

seid.

• Avenge my father, seize the traitor.

mahomet.

• People,
• Born to obey me, listen to your master.

seid.

• Hear not the monster; follow me:
• [He comes forward a little, and then staggers.
• O heaven!
• What sudden darkness spreads o’er my dim eyes?
• Now strike, my friends—O I am dying.

mahomet.

• Ha!
• Then all is well.

palmira.

• My brother, canst thou shed
• No blood but Zopir’s?

seid.

• Yes: come on—I cannot;
• Some god unnerves me.
• [He faints.

mahomet.

• Hence let every foe
• Of Mahomet be taught to fear and tremble:
• Know, ye proud infidels, this hand alone
• Hath power to crush you all, to me the God
• Of nature delegates his sovereign power:
• Acknowledge then his prophet, and his laws,
• ’Twixt Mahomet and Seid let that God
• Decide the contest, which of us forever
• Is guilty, now, this moment let him perish!

palmira.

• My brother—Seid—can this monster boast
• Such power? the people stand astonished at him,
• And tremble at his voice; and wilt thou yield
• To Mahomet?

seid.

• [Supported by his attendants.
• Alas! the hand of heaven
• Is on me, and the involuntary crime
• Is too severely punished: O Palmira,
• In vain was Seid virtuous: O if heaven
• Chastises thus our errors, what must crimes
• Like thine expect, detested Mahomet?
• What cause hast thou to tremble—O I die;
• Receive me, gracious heaven, and spare Palmira.
• [Dics.

palmira.

• ’Tis not, ye people, ’tis not angry heaven
• Pursues my Seid. No: he’s poisoned—

mahomet.

[Interrupting her, and addressing himself to the people.

• Learn
• From Seid’s fate, ye unbelievers, how
• To reverence Mahomet whom heaven defends;
• Nature and death, ye see, have heard my voice,
• And this pale corpse hath witnessed their obedience;
• The sword of fate hangs o’er your heads, beware
• It fall not on you: thus will I reward
• All impious rebels, all vile infidels,
• And punish every word and thought against me.
• If I withhold my rage, and let you live,
• Remember, traitors, that you owe your beings
• To my indulgence; hasten to the temple.
• Prostrate yourselves before the throne of grace,
• And deprecate the wrath of Mahomet.
• [The people retire.

palmira.

• O stay, and hear me, people—the barbarian
• Poisoned my brother—monster, raised by crimes
• To empire thus, and deified by guilt,
• Thou murderer of Palmira’s hapless race,
• Complete thy work, and take my wretched life:
• O my dear brother, let me follow thee!
• [She seizes her brother’s sword and stabs herself.

mahomet.

• Seize, and prevent her—

palmira.

• ’Tis too late; I die:
• And dying hope a God more just than thine
• Has yet in store a state of happiness
• For injured innocence: let Mahomet
• Reign here in peace: this world was made for tyrants.
• [Dies.

mahomet.

• She’s gone; she’s lost; the only dear reward
• I wished to keep of all my crimes: in vain
• I fought, and conquered; Mahomet is wretched
• Without Palmira: Conscience, now I feel thee,
• And feel that thou canst rive the guilty heart.
• O thou eternal God, whom I have made
• The instrument of ill, whom I have wronged,
• Braved, and blasphemed; O thou whom yet I fear,
• Behold me self-condemned, behold me wretched,
• Even whilst the world adores me: vain was all
• My boasted power: I have deceived mankind;
• But how shall I impose on my own heart?
• A murdered father, and two guiltless children
• Must be avenged: come, ye unhappy victims,
• And end me quickly!—Omar, we must strive
• To hide this shameful weakness, save my glory,
• And let me reign o’er a deluded world:
• For Mahomet depends on fraud alone,
• And to be worshipped never must be known.

End of the Fifth and Last Act.

AMELIA

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

The Duke of Foix.

Amelia.

Vamir, Brother to the Duke of Foix.

Lisois.

Thais, Confidante of Amelia.

Emar, Friend of Vamir.

SCENE, the Palace of the Duke of Foix.

This tragedy is founded on historical truth. A duke of Brittany, in the year 1387, commanded the lord of Bavalan to assassinate the constable of Clisson: Bavalan, the day after, told the duke it was done: the duke becoming sensible of the horror of his crime, and apprehensive of the fatal consequences of it, abandoned himself to the most violent despair: Bavalan, after giving him time to repent, at length told him that he had loved him well enough to disobey his orders, etc.

The action is transported to another age and country for particular reasons.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

amelia, lisois.

lisois.

• Permit a soldier, in this seat of war,
• To steal a moment from the battle’s rage,
• And greet the fair Amelia; to the king
• Thy noble heart is bound, I know, by ties
• Of dearest friendship; long and faithfully
• Hath Lisois served the valiant duke of Foix
• Who holds thee here a prisoner: well I know
• The violence of his passion for Amelia,
• Foresee the dreadful consequence, and come,
• With all the warmth of friendship, to advise
• And to consult, to lay my heart before thee
• Perhaps ’tis not unworthy of thy notice.

amelia.

• The seal of truth is ever on thy lips,
• I know thy firm integrity; whate’er
• Thou sayest, I shall believe.

lisois.

• Know then, though long
• I’ve served the duke with most unwearied zeal,
• Through years of peril, and unnumbered toils,
• Yet could I ne’er approve the fatal league
• That bound him to the Moor, and took from France
• The noblest of her princes; in these days
• Of public discord, I have ranged myself
• Beneath no banners but what honor raised,
• And followed but the dictates of my heart:
• Not that, the slave of prejudice, my soul
• Is blind to all the errors of a friend;
• With grief I see the duke’s impatient warmth,
• The impetuous ardor of his boiling youth,
• I cannot shut my eyes against his follies:
• Ofttimes the torrent which I strive to stop
• Mocks my weak power, and throws down all before it;
• But he has virtues that will recompense
• His worst of faults: if we must follow none
• But perfect princes, whose unbiassed hearts
• Are free from every vice, and every weakness,
• Whom shall we serve? I love the duke; and yet
• ’Tis with regret I draw the hostile sword
• ’Gainst France: I wish he could be reconciled.

amelia.

• If that could e’er be done, thy influence best
• Might reunite them: if he loves his glory,
• Sure this misguided prince will listen to thee.
• How fatal has his error been!

lisois.

• In vain
• I’ve tried to bend his haughty spirit; oft
• Have I with harsh unwelcome truths attacked him,
• And sorely pierced his heart: but thou alone
• Canst bring him to his duty, and his king:
• That was my errand here: there was a time
• When on the fair Amelia I had placed
• My hopes of bliss; without abasement then
• I thought you might have listened to my vows;
• But heaven reserved thee for a nobler fate.
• Whilst I was absent, by the cruel Moors
• Thou wert enslaved; the happy conqueror came,
• The gallant Foix, and saved thee from their rage;
• His was the glory, his be the reward:
• His claims are strong, his youth, his rank, and power,
• His fame, and services, all plead for him;
• Amelia’s justice and her gratitude
• Must bind her to him: I have no pretence,
• And therefore I am silent; but if merit
• Could make thee mine, I would dispute the prize
• Even with the sons of kings, nor yield Amelia
• To any but to him: he is my master,
• My leader, and my friend; he loves me well:
• I am not a half proud, half virtuous lover,
• But what I still would litigate with power,
• I give to friendship; nay, I can do more,
• I can subdue the weakness of my heart,
• And plead a rival’s cause; point out the path
• Of glory to thee, show thee what is due
• To that illustrious hero who preserved thee,
• By whom thou livest: I can behold unmoved,
• And with unenvying eye, thy charms bestowed
• On him who best deserves them: take my heart
• Between you, and accept my honest service,
• This arm shall fight for both; I sacrifice
• My passions to your interest: friendship bids me,
• And I obey; my country too commands:
• Remember, if the prince is yours, he soon
• Will be the king’s.

amelia.

• Thy virtues, noble youth,
• Astonish me; thou givest the admiring world
• A rare example; canst thou be sincere?
• And sure thou art so, thus to conquer love,
• And give up all to friendship! all who know
• Must wonder at thee: thou hast served thy master.
• And canst not be an enemy to mine:
• A heart so generous sure must think with me:
• ’Tis not in souls like thine to hate their king.
• Shall I then ask one favor at thy hands?

lisois.

• Amelia’s orders shall be ever sacred:
• Command, and I obey.

amelia.

• Thy generous counsel
• Hath urged me to accept a noble rank
• I looked not for, and offered by a prince:
• The choice, I own, does honor to Amelia,
• When I reflect, that, long before he told
• His love, he saved my liberty and life;
• Foe to his sovereign, though the rebel Moor
• Hath drawn him from his duty and allegiance,
• Yet he has poured so many favors on me,
• I cannot bear to hurt him, though, in spite
• Of all his goodness, and my gratitude,
• I must refuse him: his unhappy passion
• Afflicts me; ’tis distressful to my heart,
• For all his kindness thus to make him wretched.
• Fain would I spare myself the ungrateful task
• Of saying that I must not hear his vows:
• It is not for my feeble voice to tell
• A prince his duty; ’twere a dangerous power,
• And I am far from wishing to enjoy it;
• Who can direct him better than thyself?
• Alas! my lord, ’tis not a time for love;
• The royal army at our gates, and naught
• But war and slaughter all around us: blood
• On every side! himself against my master,
• Against his brother, now in arms; all these
• Are powerful reasons: O my lord, in you
• Is all my hope; forgive me; O complete
• The generous work, restore me to my king;
• Let him do that, ’tis all I ask; but add
• This effort more to what thou’st done already:
• Thou hast the strongest influence o’er his heart,
• A firm and manly soul, a friend like thee,
• Respected and beloved, will make the voice
• Of duty heard, his counsels will be laws.

lisois.

• Alas! those counsels will have little weight
• Against the passions that possess his soul;
• His fiery temper gives me too much cause
• To fear him: he’s inclined to jealousy,
• And if he hears I had a thought of thee,
• ’Twill drive his soul to madness, and perhaps
• Undo us all: he must be soothed by art;
• Leave him to me, and try to reconcile
• Your jarring interests; weigh his offers well.
• Henceforth I’ll think no more of love and thee,
• But get me to the field, the soldier’s duty
• Shall there engross me: if thou lovest thy country,
• If France be dear to thee, restore her hero,
• And she will bless thee for the deed: farewell.

SCENE II.

amelia, thais.

amelia.

• Restore him, said he? what! at the dear price
• Of all my happiness! it cannot be;
• ’Twere infamous and base, the worst of crimes.

thais.

• But wherefore is the prince thus hateful to you?
• Why in these days of discord, war, and tumult,
• Whilst faction reigns, and of our royal race
• Brother ’gainst brother arms, and every hour
• Brings new afflictions, wherefore should Amelia,
• Whose gentler stars for other purposes
• Had formed her soul, to love and to be loved,
• Why should Amelia, with such sentiments
• Of scorn and hatred, meet a hero’s vows
• Who had avenged her cause? The prince, thou knowest,
• Amongst his ancestors can boast the blood
• Of our first kings, and is himself a lord
• Of rich domains, and wide-extended power.
• He loves you, offers you his hand: can rank
• And title, objects that are envied still
• By all mankind, pursued with eagerness,
• And gained with rapture, can these only fill
• Thy heart with sorrow, and thy eyes with tears?

amelia.

• Because he saved me once, has he a right
• Now to oppress me? Must Amelia fall
• A victim to his fatal aid? I know
• I’m much indebted to him, would I were not!

thais.

• Nay, that’s ungrateful.

amelia.

• Thou shalt know my heart,
• My miseries, my duty, and my fate:
• I will no longer keep the secret from thee,
• ’Twere cruel to distrust thee; when thou knowest
• My story, thou mayst justify thy friend.
• I must not listen to the prince’s vows,
• For know, my heart is given to his brother.

thais.

• Ha! to the noble Vamir!

amelia.

• Yes, my friend:
• With mutual oaths we sealed our mutual faith,
• And at Leucate I expected him,
• There to confirm it at the holy altar,
• When by the cruel Moors that rushed upon us
• I was surprised, and made a captive; then
• The prince, to these unconquered savages
• In firm alliance bound, appeared, and saved me;
• There’s my distress: the life another saved
• Must be devoted to the faithful Vamir.

thais.

• But why then thus conceal thy passion? why
• Nourish a hopeless flame thou shouldst extinguish?
• He would respect this sacred tie, and check
• His fruitless passion.

amelia.

• O I must not tell him:
• The brothers, to complete my sorrows, armed
• Against each other, have taken different parties
• In this destructive war; the faithful Vamir
• Fights for his king. Thou knowest the violence
• Of his proud rival: all I can oppose
• To his fierce rage is melancholy silence;
• Even yet he knows not that in happier times
• The gallant Vamir had engaged my heart:
• To tell it him would fire his jealous soul,
• And only make Amelia more unhappy.
• ’Tis time to quit this fatal place, the king
• With pleasure will receive me: let us hence.
• The prisoners, Thais, from these walls even now
• Are breaking forth, and meditate their flight:
• They will conduct us: I defy all danger,
• Will hazard all for freedom and repose.

thais.

• Behold the duke.

amelia.

• I cannot speak to him,
• The starting tear would soon betray me: what
• Would I not give forever to avoid him!

SCENE III.

duke of foix, lisois, thais.

duke.

• [To Thais.
• Avoid me! fly me! Thais, stay: thou knowest
• My sorrows, knowest I love her to distraction;
• My life depends on her: but let her not
• Abuse her power, and drive me to despair:
• I hate her cold respect, her poor return
• Of gratitude to all my warmth of passion:
• Delay is cruel, ’tis the worst refusal;
• ’Tis an affront my heart will ne’er forgive:
• In vain she boasts to me her loyal zeal,
• Her fond attachment to her royal master,
• ’Tis time that all should yield to love and me:
• Here let her find her country and her king;
• To me she owes her honor, and her life;
• And I owe all to her, I owe my love:
• United as we are by every claim,
• We must not part, the altar is prepared,
• She shall be mine; go, tell her all is ready.

SCENE IV.

the duke, lisois.

lisois.

• My lord, remember that our kingdom’s safety
• Depends on this decisive day.

duke.

• I know it
• And am resolved to conquer or to die
• Amelia’s husband.

lisois.

• But the foe advances,
• And soon will be upon us.

duke.

• Let him come,
• I mean to fight him; thinkest thou I’m a coward?
• Thinkest thou the tyrant love shall e’er extinguish
• My noble thirst of glory? though she hates,
• She shall admire me still: she boasts indeed
• Her sovereign empire o’er my captive heart,
• But shall not blast my virtue and my fame.
• No: thy reproaches are unjust; my friend
• Was too severe; condemn me not unjustly,
• Love ne’er unnerves the gallant sons of France:
• Even from the bosom of success and joy,
• Fearless they fly to arms, and rush on death:
• And I too will die worthy of Amelia.

lisois.

• Say rather, worthy of thyself: I think
• To-day of nothing but the public welfare;
• I talk of battles, and thou speakest of love.
• My lord, I’ve seen the army of the foe:
• Vamir, so fame reports, is armed against us:
• From us, I know, he hath long since withdrawn
• His valiant troops. I know him not, but hear
• He’s of a noble nature: if his soul,
• Inspired by duty, and by glory warmed,
• Still feels the tender tie that linked your hearts
• In earlier years, he may assist us now,
• And be the means of making wished-for peace.
• My cares—

duke.

• Away: I would not be obliged
• Thus to a brother: shall I sue for peace,
• And ask forgiveness? yet it hurts my soul
• To think that Vamir is my foe: I still
• Remember our past friendship, and the love
• I bore him once; but since he will oppose me,
• Since he’s no longer ours, why let him go,
• And serve his king.

lisois.

• Thy fiery temper braves
• Too far the patience of an easy monarch.

duke.

• A monarch! the mere phantom of a king,
• Unworthy of his race, a royal slave,
• In golden chains, and seated on a throne
• Subjected to a petty officer:
• I’m not afraid of Pepin, their arch-tyrant;
• I hate a subject that would frighten me,
• And I despise a king who can’t command:
• If he permits a rebel to usurp
• The sovereign power, I’ll still support my own:
• This heart’s too proud to bend beneath the laws
• Of these new upstarts who oppress their king:
• Clovis, my royal ancestor, ne’er taught
• His sons to cringe beneath a haughty master.
• At least these faithful Arabs will avenge me;
• If I must feel a tyrant, let him be
• A stranger.

lisois.

• You detest these governors,
• But they have saved our empire, which your friends,
• The Arabs, but for them had overthrown:
• I tremble at this new alliance: Spain
• Before you stands a terrible example:
• These savage plunderers, these new tyrants dig
• Our graves with our own hands. ’Twere better far
• To yield with prudence.

duke.

• What, fall down and sue
• For mercy!

lisois.

• Your true interest long forgotten—

duke.

• Revenge is my first interest.

lisois.

• Love and anger
• Too long have ruled the bosom of my friend.

duke.

• I know they have, but cannot conquer nature.

lisois.

• You may, you ought; nay, I’ll not flatter you,
• But even though I condemn, I’ll follow thee;
• ’Tis a friend’s duty to point out the faults
• Of him he loves; to counsel, to exhort,
• To save him from the dangerous precipice:
• This I have done for thee, but thou wilt fall,
• And I must perish with thee.

duke.

• O my friend,
• What hast thou said?

lisois.

• But what I ought to say:
• And would to heaven that thou hadst listened to me!
• What dost thou purpose?

duke.

• When my ardent hopes
• Shall be fulfilled, when the ungrateful maid
• Shall give sweet peace to my distracted mind,
• Then will I hear the counsels of my friend.
• What can I purpose now, or what design,
• Till I have seen the tyrant who must guide
• My future fate? let her determine for me,
• Let her save me, and I will save my country.

End of the First Act.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

the duke of foix.

• [Alone.
• She cannot sure again refuse to see me,
• And urge me to despair! she dare not do it:
• Fool that I am to give her thus the power;
• How weak is my proud heart to yield itself
• A voluntary slave! go, throw thyself,
• Mean as thou art, beneath the tyrant’s feet;
• Go, make thy life dependent on a word,
• A look, a smile, from proud Amelia; pass
• From love to fury, and from tears to rage;
• ’Tis the last time I e’er will speak to her.
• I go—

SCENE II.

the duke, amelia and thaisadvancing from the upper end of the stage.

amelia.

• There’s hope, my Thais; yet I tremble.
• Would Vamir hazard this bold enterprise?
• ’Tis full of danger; ha! what do I see?
• [Advancing towards the Duke.

duke.

• Amelia, what hath this way led thy steps
• I know not, but thy eyes too plainly tell me
• That I was not the object of their search:
• What! still turn from me, still insult the heart
• That dotes upon thee! cruel tyrant, thus
• To blast the laurels planted on my brow:
• O if Amelia’s hand had placed them there
• They might have flourished, but she has forgot
• Her plighted faith, and broke her flattering promise.

amelia.

• Thou never hadst my faith, I never gave
• Thee promise, gratitude is all I owe thee.

duke.

• Did I not offer thee my hand?

amelia.

• Thou didst:
• It was an honor which I could not merit,
• And which I never sought, but I received it
• With due respect; you thought, no doubt, a rank
• So glorious must have dazzled poor Amelia.
• At length, my lord, ’tis time to undeceive you;
• I do it with regret, because I know
• It will offend you, but I must be plain:
• In short, my lord, I love my king too well
• To think of wedding with his foe: thy blood,
• I know, is noble; mine is spotless yet,
• Nor will be stained with foul disloyalty,
• And I inherit from my ancestors
• The fixed abhorrence of my country’s foes:
• Nor will I e’er acknowledge for a master
• The friend of tyrants, be he e’er so great:
• Such is my firm resolve; perhaps, my lord,
• It may seem harsh, but you obliged me to it.

duke.

• This is a language, madam, which I own
• I looked not for; I never could have thought
• That angry heaven, to make me doubly wretched,
• Would choose Amelia for its instrument
• Of vengeance: you have studied long in secret
• The arts of black ingratitude, of scorn
• And insult, and now open all your heart.
• I was a stranger to this patriot zeal,
• This most heroic ardor for thy country,
• This fetch of policy; but tell me, madam,
• Whom have you here but this insulted lover,
• The injured Foix, to succor and support you?
• Thou hast reproached me with my new alliance,
• Those faithful friends on whom I here rely
• For all my safety, and for all my power:
• Without their aid thou hadst been still a captive;
• To them you owed your liberty and life,
• And am I thus rewarded?

amelia.

• You prolonged
• My wretched days; but are they therefore yours,
• And may I not dispose them as I please?
• Did you preserve me but to make me wretched,
• To be a tyrant o’er the life you saved?

duke.

• Ungrateful woman, thou deservest the name
• Of tyrant most, for now I read thy soul,
• See through the thin disguise, behold too plainly
• My own dishonor, and thy treacherous falsehood:
• I know thou lovest another, but whoe’er
• He be that thus hath robbed me of thy heart,
• Fear thou my love, and tremble at my rage;
• For, if he be on earth, I’ll find the traitor,
• And tear him from thee: if amidst its horrors
• My soul could feel one momentary joy,
• ’Twould be to make thee wretched.

amelia.

• No: my lord,
• Indeed it would not; reason will forbid it:
• Thy soul’s too noble to oppress with woe
• A life which thou hadst saved; but if thy heart
• Should ever stoop so low, thy virtues still,
• Thy goodness in my memory shall live,
• And only thy unkindness be forgotten.
• I pity, and forgive thee; thou wilt blush
• Hereafter at the thought of injuring me;
• Spite of thy threats, my soul is yet unmoved,
• Nor dreads thy anger, nor defies thy power.

duke.

• Forgive the transports of a mind disturbed,
• The rage of love embittered by despair;
• Lisois, I find, holds secret conference with you,
• Abets you falsehood, and defends your conduct;
• Leans to the royal party, and combines
• In vain with you to make a convert of me:
• It seems I’m to be governed by your will,
• And not my own: your converse is the same,
• The same your purpose; but why use these arms
• Against me? to persuade my easy heart,
• Why must Amelia seek a stranger’s aid?
• A word will win me, if ’tis spoke by love.

amelia.

• My heart, I own, hath opened to thy friend
• Its hopes and fears, but he hath done much more
• Than he had promised: pity then my tears,
• Pity my sorrows, be thyself again;
• Subdue a passion which Amelia must not,
• Cannot return: accept my gratitude,
• ’Tis all I have to give thee.

duke.

• Lisois, then,
• And he alone, enjoys thy confidence,
• Thy friendship, more perhaps; I see it now.

amelia.

• You may perhaps hereafter, but at present
• You have no right, sir, to control my thoughts,
• My actions, or my words; no right to blame me,
• Or to complain: I sought thy friend’s assistance,
• And he has given it me; I wish, my lord,
• That you would learn to act and think like him.

SCENE III.

the duke.

• [Alone.
• ’Tis well: this base, ungrateful, perjured woman,
• Without a blush, confesses all her falsehood;
• The mystery is unfolded now: one friend,
• One only friend, I had, and he destroys me.
• Friendship! vain phantom, unsubstantial shade,
• So often sought for, and so seldom found,
• Thou ever hadst some wholesome draught to pour
• Into my cup of sorrow; but at last
• Thou, too, like love, hast cruelly deceived me!
• For the reward of all my errors past
• I have but this, that no allurements now,
• No flattering pleasures, henceforth shall betray me;
• For from this hour I will be fond—of nothing.
• But lo! the traitor comes with cruel hand
• To tear my wounds, and make them bleed afresh.

SCENE IV.

the duke, lisois.

lisois.

• My lord, I come obedient to thy orders:
• But why that frown, those eyes of discontent
• That scowl upon me? has thy soul, long time
• The sport of passion, weighed in reason’s scale
• Thy interest, and thy happiness?

duke.

• It has.

lisois.

• And what was the result?

duke.

• My eyes are opened
• To falsehood and deceit; I’ve learned to find
• A rival and a traitor in my friend.

lisois.

• How’s that!

duke.

• It is enough.

lisois.

• Too much, my lord:
• Who is the traitor?

duke.

• Canst thou ask me who?
• Who but thyself was privy to the wrongs
• I have received, who else must answer for them?
• I know, Amelia hath conversed with thee
• Here, in the palace; when I mentioned thee
• She trembled: this affected silence speaks
• Your guilt more plainly, and I know not which
• Most to abhor, Amelia, or—my friend.

lisois.

• Canst thou yet listen to that friend?

duke.

• I can.

lisois.

• Thinkest thou I still am anxious for my fame?
• Dost thou esteem, and canst thou yet believe me?

duke.

• I will: for till this hour I thought thee virtuous,
• And held thee for my friend.

lisois.

• Those noble titles
• Have hitherto conducted me through life;
• But wherefore justify myself to thee?
• Thou’st not deserved it: know, Amelia’s charms
• Long since had touched my heart, before thy hand
• Had set her free, and saved her precious life,
• But by the ties of gratitude she’s thine;
• Thou hast deserved her by thy services:
• For me, I’m more the soldier than the soft
• And tender lover; I despise the art
• Of base seduction, fit for courts alone,
• And flattery’s smooth perfidiousness; my soul
• Is made of firmer stuff: I talked indeed
• Of marriage to her; and that sacred tie,
• Knit by esteem and fair equality
• Of fortune and condition, might have made her
• More happy far than rank and titles could,
• That stand upon a dangerous precipice:
• But yesternight, you know, I visited
• Your ramparts, when your jealous soul alarmed
• Discovered all its passion; I observed it:
• To-day I saw the object of your grief,
• Your loved Amelia, and beheld her charms
• With eyes of cold indifference: o’er myself
• I gained an easy conquest: I did more,
• Pleaded for thee, for an ungrateful friend,
• And urged a passion which I can’t approve;
• Recalled the memory of thy bounties past,
• Thy glory and thy rank, acknowledged faults
• I knew you had, and numbered all your virtues;
• All this against myself I did for thee;
• For my friend’s happiness gave up my own:
• And if the sacrifice is still imperfect,
• Show me the rival that still dares to oppose thee,
• And I will stake my life to do thee justice.

duke.

• My friend, thou soarest above me; I am fallen,
• Abashed, confounded: who could see Amelia
• And not adore her? but to conquer thus
• Thy passion! O thou never couldst have loved her.

lisois.

• I did: but love, like other passions, acts
• With different force on different minds.

duke.

• I love
• Too well, my friend, and cannot imitate
• The virtue I admire: my foolish heart—

lisois.

• I ask not for thy praises, but thy love;
• And if thou thinkest that I have merited
• Aught at thy hands, O do but serve thyself,
• Thy happiness is Lisois’ best reward.
• Thou seest with what determined hate thy brother
• Pursues the Moor, I dread the consequence:
• The people groan beneath this foreign yoke,
• Soon, I foresee, the empire will unite
• Their scattered powers, new enemies still rise
• Against us, the pure blood of Clovis still
• Is worshipped by the crowd, and soon or late
• The branches of this sacred tree, that long
• Have bent beneath the storm, again shall rise,
• Spring with fresh verdure, and overshade the land.
• Placed by thy rank and fortunes near the throne,
• Long time thou wert thy king and country’s friend;
• But in the days of public discord, fate
• Attached thee to another cause; perhaps
• New interests now may call for new connections,
• And what united may dissolve the tie;
• The power of these despotic governors
• May be restrained, and weakened by thy hand—

duke.

• I wish it were so; thinkest thou then Amelia
• Would listen to me? if I should embrace
• The royal party, might she still be mine?

lisois.

• I am a stranger to Amelia’s heart;
• But what are her designs, her views to thee?
• Must love alone decide the nation’s fate?
• In Touraine’s field, when gallant Clovis fought,
• And, o’er the haughty conquerors of Rome
• Victorious, stopped the bloody Arian’s hand,
• That dealt destruction round us, did he save
• His country, thinkest thou, but to please a mistress?
• This arm against a rival is prepared
• To serve my friend, but I would serve him more,
• Would cure him of this fond, destructive passion;
• This love deceives us, we’re too fearful of him;
• We wound ourselves, and lay the blame on him;
• The coward’s tyrant, and the hero’s slave;
• He may be conquered; Lisois has subdued him,
• And shall he triumph o’er the blood of kings
• Who never yet submitted to a foe?
• Awake, my friend, and be our great example
• In every virtue.

duke.

• Yes, I will do all,
• All for Amelia; she must yield at last.
• Her laws, her king, her master, shall be mine:
• I have no will but her, and in her eyes
• Will read my duty, and my fate: possessed
• Of the dear treasure, will be reconciled
• To every foe. O how my heart enjoys
• The pleasing hope! I had no cause to fear,
• I have no rival; if thou art not loved,
• I can have none: who in this court would dare
• To cast one look towards Amelia? now
• Her vain pretexts are vanished; reason, glory,
• My interest, and my birth, the sacred right
• Of my great ancestors, all, all unite
• To bind the nuptial chain, and make me happy.
• Henceforth I am the king’s, and will support him
• So virtue bids, and beauty has commanded.
• On this blest day will I confirm the oaths
• I made to love: away, my friend, I leave
• My interest and my fortunes to thy care.

lisois.

• Permit me, then, my lord, to seek the king:
• I could have wished that this important change
• Were to the hero, not the lover due;
• But be it as it may, the effect’s too glorious
• To blame the cause: I triumph in thy weakness,
• And bless for once the lucky power of love.

SCENE V.

the duke, lisois, an officer.

officer.

• My lord, the foe advances; we expect
• A fierce assault, and wait your orders; time
• Is precious.

duke.

• Cruel fate! to counteract
• My noble purpose! then farewell to peace,
• And welcome, victory! I’ll deserve Amelia:
• I heed not these rash fools: of all the foes
• I have to conquer, there’s but one to fear,
• And that’s—Amelia.

End of the Second Act.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

duke of foix, lisois.

duke.

• The day is ours; thanks to thy friendly hand
• That guided my rash youth; thy noble soul,
• In peace or war, is my best counsellor.

lisois.

• The glorious fire that animates thy heart
• Must always conquer, when ’tis checked by prudence,
• As here it was: preserve this happy virtue,
• ’Twill make thee happy, and ’twill make thee great;
• The coward is restless, but the hero calm.

duke.

• How is the lover? can he ever taste
• Of sweet tranquillity? But say, my friend,
• This unknown chief, that mounted on our ramparts,
• And with his single arm so long suspended
• The doubtful victory: I grow jealous of him:
• Where is he? what became of him?

lisois.

• Surrounded
• By slaughtered friends, alone long time he stood,
• And braved opposing legions; but what most
• Surprised us, when at length he had escaped
• From every danger, wondrous to relate!
• He yielded up himself a prisoner to us;
• Conceals his rank and name, accuses heaven,
• And begs for instant death. One friend alone
• Attends him, and partakes his sorrows.

duke.

• Lisois,
• Who can this bold, this fearless soldier be?
• He wore his beaver down: some secret charm
• O’erpowered my trembling soul when I opposed him.
• Whether this fatal passion that enslaves me
• Hath spread its weakness o’er each faculty,
• And left the soft impression on my soul,
• Or that my bleeding country’s voice alarmed
• This conscious heart, and silently reproached me.

lisois.

• As for the weakness of thy soul, advice
• I know were vain, but sure thy country’s voice
• May still be heard; now is the time to show
• The greatness of thy soul, and give us peace.
• Fortune, that smiled on us to-day, perhaps
• May frown to-morrow, and thy pride be forced
• To sue for pardon to a haughty foe.
• Since thou art happy, and Amelia’s thine,
• Now rest thy glory on the common cause,
• This brave unknown may forward our designs;
• Let us improve the lucky moment.

duke.

• Yes,
• My friend, I will do all to serve Amelia,
• Her cause is mine: I must prepare the minds
• Of my brave followers for the change; to thee,
• And to thy happy counsels, every bliss,
• Glory and peace, and hymeneal joys,
• To thee I owe, to friendship and to love.

SCENE II.

lisois, vamir and emarat the farther end of the stage.

lisois.

• It is the noble prisoner, and his friend,
• If I mistake not: this way they advance;
• He seems o’erwhelmed with deep despair.

vamir.

• O heaven!
• Where am I? whither dost thou lead me?

lisois.

• Stranger,
• Whoe’er thou art, be comforted; thy fate
• Hath thrown thee into noble hands: thou’lt find
• A generous master, who can see desert
• Even in a foe: may I not ask thy name?

vamir.

• I am a poor abandoned wretch, the sport
• Of fortune, one whose least affliction is
• To be a captive, and from every eye
• Would wish to hide the story of my fate:
• It is enough to be supremely wretched,
• Without this cruel witness of my woe:
• Too soon my name and sorrows will be known.

lisois.

• Respect is due to misery like thine;
• I will not urge thee further, but retire:
• Perhaps even here thy soul may find relief
• In generous treatment, and a milder fate.

SCENE III.

vamir, emar.

vamir.

• A milder fate! I must not hope for it:
• O I have lived too long.

emar.

• Thank heaven, my lord,
• That we are fallen amongst such noble foes,
• And shall not groan beneath a stranger’s power.

vamir.

• No yoke sometimes so galling as a brother’s.

emar.

• But you were bred together, and the ties
• Of tenderest friendship linked your hearts.

vamir.

• They did:
• But O the friendship of our early years
• Soon takes its flight: he loved me once, and still
• This heart retains a brother’s kindness for him:
• I cannot hate him, though he conquered me.

emar.

• He knows not yet how great a captive comes
• To grace his triumph; knows not that a brother
• Is in his power, whom vengeance had inspired.

vamir.

• No: Emar, never did a thought of vengeance
• Enter my heart; a different passion swayed
• The soul of Vamir: can it be, just heaven!
• Or is it but the lying voice of fame,
• That my Amelia’s false, that she has broke
• Her solemn vows? for whom, too? added guilt
• To her, and double sorrow to thy friend!
• The sacred laws of nature, and the ties
• Of tender love, all broken, all betrayed!
• Unjust, inhuman brother!

emar.

• Knows he then
• How dear a treasure he hath robbed thee of
• In thy Amelia? did not Vamir say
• That he was still a stranger to thy love?

vamir.

• But she is not: she knows what solemn ties,
• What strict engagements, bound us to each other:
• That at the altar, ere we had confirmed
• Our mutual vows, the barbarous Moor rushed in,
• And tore her from me; the base ravishers
• Escaped my vengeance, and my happier brother
• Enjoys the precious treasure Vamir lost
• Ungrateful woman! came I here, my friend,
• But to reproach her? what will it avail?
• She will not listen to my fond complaint:
• But to my royal master I have lived
• A faithful servant, and to false Amelia,
• And faithful will I die: when she shall know
• How well I loved her, she may shed a tear,
• And in a brother’s arms lament my fate.

emar.

• Repress thy sorrows; see, the duke approaches.

vamir.

• Be still, my heart.

SCENE IV.

duke of foix, vamir, emar.

duke.

• This mystery alarms me:
• But I must see this noble captive: ha!
• He turns aside with horror.

vamir.

• Hateful life!
• Must I support thee still? must I again
• Behold the faithless wretch?

duke.

• What do I hear?

vamir.

• Dost thou not know me?

duke.

• Ha! my brother! Vamir!

vamir.

• Alas! too sure I am that wretched brother,
• Thy vanquished foe, a poor abandoned captive.

duke.

• Thou art my brother still, and I forgive thee;
• But ’tis most strange, and most unnatural:
• Could the king find no instrument but thee
• To execute his vengeance on my head?
• What had I done to Vamir?

vamir.

• Made his life
• Unhappy: would that thou hadst taken it from me!

duke.

• Dreadful effects of civil strife!

vamir.

• More dreadful
• Are the deep wounds that pierce the heart of Vamir.

duke.

• Against another foe I might have shown
• A soldier’s courage, but I pity thee.

vamir.

• Pity thyself, the wretch who has betrayed
• His country, and deceived the king that loved him;
• A traitor, and unworthy of thy race.

duke.

• Brand me not, Vamir, with opprobrious name
• Of traitor, lest I should forget myself,
• And spurn thee for the insult: no, my brother,
• I’m not that base, ungrateful wretch thou thinkest me;
• Thou seest me ready to restore fair peace,
• And heal the wounds of my divided country.

vamir.

• Thou heal our wounds! thou—

duke.

• Yes: the day that seemed
• So fatal to thy peace shall quench the flames
• Of public discord, and unite us all.

vamir.

• O ’tis a day of sorrow.

duke.

• Of delight
• And joy, the day that crowns my wishes—

vamir.

• How!

duke.

• Yes, Vamir, all is changed, and I am happy.

vamir.

• It may be so: I heard indeed thy heart
• These three months past has been the slave of love;
• And if report say true, most violent
• And fierce thy passion.

duke.

• Thou hast heard aright;
• I love her even to madness: thou art come
• In happy hour to make our bliss complete.
• Yes: I will lay my friends, my foes, my every claim,
• Revenge and glory, all beneath her feet.
• Go, tell her two unhappy brothers, long
• [To his attendants.
• By adverse fate to different interests bound,
• Wait but a look from her to be united.
• [To Vamir.
• Blame not my passion, Vamir, when thou seest
• The lovely object, soon thou wilt approve it.

vamir.

• [Aside.
• And does she love thee? cruel thought!

duke.

• At least
• She ought: one obstacle alone remained,
• And that shall be removed.

vamir.

• [Aside.
• Inhuman brother!
• Knowest thou what led me to this fatal place,
• And meanest thou to insult me?

duke.

• Let us bury
• In deep oblivion every thought of discord;
• Behold, the fair Amelia comes.

SCENE V.

duke of foix, vamir, amelia.

amelia.

• O heaven!
• What do I see? I die.

duke.

• Amelia, listen,
• And mark how happiness ariseth oft
• From our misfortunes; this day I have conquered,
• And this day found a brother; thou, my Vamir,
• Shalt be a witness to the power of love.
• What nor Amelia’s prayers, nor her reproaches,
• My generous friend, my country, and my king,
• Long time in vain solicited, her charms
• At length have won: to them I yield submissive.
• Amelia, whilst I was thy sovereign’s foe,
• Thou wouldst not listen to my vows: henceforth
• I have no laws, no friends, no king, but thine:
• So love commands, and love shall be obeyed.
• Vamir, thou’rt free: be thou the messenger
• Of welcome tidings to the court: away,
• And tell the king I hasten to present
• His fair ally, the conqueror who subdued
• A rebel’s heart, and of a dangerous foe
• Hath made a faithful subject; changed by her,
• And her alone.

vamir.

• [Aside.
• ’Tis as I wished: my fate
• Will soon be known: speak, and pronounce our doom.

duke.

• Amelia, speak, art thou not satisfied
• With my submission? Is it not enough
• To see a conqueror thus humbly kneel
• Before thee? Can my life alone content
• Thy cruel heart? take it, ungrateful woman!
• I wished but to preserve it for thy sake;
• For thee alone I lived, for thee will die.

amelia.

• I am astonished, and my faltering voice
• Will scarce give utterance to my words—my lord,
• If thy great soul laments thy country’s fate,
• And feels for her distress, thy generous care
• Must spring from nobler motives than the wish
• To serve Amelia; thou hast heard the voice
• Of powerful nature: what hath love to do
• Where only honor hath a right to dictate?

duke.

• ’Tis thy own work, Amelia, all thy own:
• O’er every interest, every passion, love
• Superior reigns; reproach me, cover me
• With shame, no matter: I must force thy heart;
• Come to the altar.

vamir.

• Darest thou—

amelia.

• No, my lord;
• I’d sooner die: my life’s at thy command,
• But not my heart: there is a fatal bar
• Between us, and I never can be thine.

duke.

• ’Tis well, ungrateful—dost thou hear her, Vamir?
• But I’ll be calm: I’ll not complain of thee,
• I see thee now: the soft persuasive arts
• That call our passions forth, the flattering hope
• That’s given but to betray, the subtle poison
• Spread o’er our hearts, deceitful all and vain,
• No longer shall seduce my easy faith,
• The eye of reason hath detected them,
• And the same art that bound hath set me free:
• I will not blush before thee, Vamir: no,
• I will not be despised: but let me see
• This hidden rival, bring him here before me,
• And I will yield him up the worthless prize;
• For know, I have contempt enough for both
• To wish you were united; that alone
• Should be your punishment.

amelia.

• Perhaps, my lord,
• ’Twere fittest for Amelia to retire
• In silence, but I hold my honor dear,
• And must defend it: I have been accused
• Before thy brother, and must answer thee.
• Know, then, I’m destined to another’s arms;
• I own my love, my tender passion for him;
• Amelia were unworthy of his heart,
• Had she e’er given a distant hope to thee:
• But thou wouldst seize my faith and liberty,
• As if they were by right of conquest thine.
• I owed thee much, but injuries like these,
• My lord, discharge the debt of gratitude,
• And cancel all: I saw, and pitied long
• The violence of thy fruitless passion for me;
• Do not then make me hate thee: I rejected
• Thy proffered vows, but never scorned thy love:
• I wished for thy esteem, and gave thee mine.

duke.

• Perfidious woman! naught hast thou deserved
• But my resentment, which thou soon shalt know
• Is equal to my love: thou waitedst then
• For Vamir to be witness of my shame!
• I should have thought he was himself the traitor,
• If—but he ne’er beheld thy fatal charms,
• My happier brother never knew Amelia.
• Who is this rival? let me know his name,
• But think not I will tamely yield to him.
• No: I deceived thee there, but cannot long
• Dissemble; I will drag thee to the altar,
• There, as he dies in torment, shall he see
• Our hands united; I will dip in blood
• The torch of Hymen: well I know that princes
• Have been despised for mean and vulgar slaves,
• But I shall find him.

vamir.

• Why shouldst thou suppose
• This rival so contemptible?

duke.

• And why
• Shouldst thou excuse him? Didst thou never know her?
• ’Tis dreadful to conceive it. If thou didst,
• Now, traitor, tremble.

vamir.

• Vamir tremble? No:
• Too long already I have borne in silence
• Thy cruel insults; know me now, barbarian,
• Know a despair that’s equal to thy own:
• Strike here; behold thy brother, and thy rival.

duke.

• Thou, Vamir, thou?

vamir.

• Yes: for these two years past
• We’ve been united in the strictest bonds
• Of tender love; the only good on earth
• I wished to keep, thy cruel hand hath strove
• To ravish from me, made my life unhappy:
• Judge of my miseries by thy own: we both
• Are jealous, both were born the slaves of passion:
• Hatred and love, resentment, and despair,
• Possess our souls, and all in the extreme:
• Thou wert my rival, therefore I opposed thee:
• Furious and blind, I ran, I flew to save
• The object of my love; not all thy power
• Restrained me, nor my weakness, time nor place,
• Not even thy noble courage; love prevailed
• O’er friendship, and the ties of blood: be thou
• Cruel like me, like me unnatural.
• Whilst I have life, thou never canst enjoy
• Thy conquest, never canst possess Amelia:
• Strike, then, and punish, shed thy brother’s blood;
• But when thou draggest her with thee to the altar,
• Remember, she’s thy sister, and my wife.

duke.

• Guards, seize the traitor, take him from my sight.

amelia.

• Stay, cruel prince; art thou inflexible,
• Deaf to the voice of nature? O, my lord!

vamir.

• Sue not for me, Amelia, Vamir’s fate
• Is to be envied: he most claims your pity
• Who hath betrayed his king, and injured thee:
• I am revenged, the victory is mine;
• For thou art hated here, and I’m beloved.

amelia.

• [Kneeling to the Duke.
• O dearest prince, my lord, see at your feet—

duke.

• Away with him: rise, madam, for thy tears
• And fruitless prayers to save a traitor’s life
• But pour fresh poison o’er my wounded heart
• That bleeds for thee; but I will die, Amelia,
• Not unrevenged: when thou shalt feel my rage
• Accuse thyself; the work is all thy own.

amelia.

• I cannot leave thee: O my lord, yet hear—

duke.

• If I must hear thee, speak, go on.

SCENE VI.

the duke, vamir, amelia, lisois.

lisois.

• My lord,
• The people are in arms; at Vamir’s name
• They rose tumultuous, and on every side
• Disorder reigns; the affrighted soldiers leave
• Their colors, and in wild confusion fly:
• Meantime the foe unites his scattered powers,
• And rushes on us.

duke.

• Go, ungrateful woman!
• Thou hast not long to glory in thy crimes;
• Follow her—
• [To one of her attendants.
• I must to the factious crowd
• And show myself: thou, Lisois, guard this traitor.

SCENE VII.

vamir, lisois.

lisois.

• Art thou a traitor? couldst thou thus disgrace
• Thy noble blood, to violate the laws
• Of nature? could a prince so far forget
• His duty and himself?

vamir.

• I never did:
• The people’s just: my brother is a rebel,
• And has betrayed his master.

lisois.

• Hear me, Vamir;
• My soul desires no greater happiness
• Than to unite you: long have I beheld
• With deep regret my bleeding country’s woes,
• Our fields laid waste, and nature sacrificed
• To discord and revenge; the haughty Moor,
• Raised on our ruins, menacing the state,
• Which we have weakened by our own divisions.
• O if thou bearest a heart that’s truly noble,
• And worthy of thy race, now save thy country;
• Exert thy power to reconcile the king,
• Soften thy brother, and put out the flames
• Of civil war.

vamir.

• Impossible! thy cares
• Are fruitless all and vain: if naught but discord,
• Revenge and hatred, led me to the field,
• Had glory and ambition fired my breast,
• Thou mightest have hoped indeed to reunite us;
• But there’s a bar more fatal still behind.

lisois.

• What could it be! O tell me, Vamir.

vamir.

• Love:
• Love that has filled this breast with savage fury,
• And made my brother cruel and inhuman.

lisois.

• Good heaven! that vain caprice should thus destroy
• The noblest purposes! Almighty love,
• Canst thou reverse the laws of nature, fill
• With unrelenting hate the jealous hearts
• Of fondest brothers, and in every clime
• By private passions work the public ruin?
• Vamir, I feel for both, but long have served
• Thy brother; I must hence, and second him
• Against thy factious friends: the strife is dreadful,
• And much I fear will have a bloody end;
• But I must fly to succor him: farewell;
• Thou art my prisoner, but I leave thee here;
• Give me thy word, that shall suffice.

vamir.

• I do.

lisois.

• Would I could knit you in the bonds of peace!
• But much more to be feared than all thy foes
• And far more fatal, is the tyrant, love.

End of the Third Act.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

vamir, amelia, emar.

amelia.

• O Vamir, how the hand of heaven hath marked
• My life with sad variety of woe!
• The chance of war, that tore me from thy arms.
• Once more hath joined us; but, alas! we meet
• On mournful terms, meet but to part; my Vamir,
• Didst thou not say it must be so?

vamir.

• It must:
• Thou seest me chained by honor’s laws beneath
• A rival’s power: my sacred word is given:
• Vamir may die, but must not follow thee.

amelia.

• Thou who hast dared to fight, art thou afraid
• To flee from him?

vamir.

• I am: my honor binds me:
• Take thou advantage of the general tumult,
• Which favors thy retreat: a guard attends
• To aid thy flight; heaven will protect thy virtues;
• Hope for the best.

amelia.

• What can Amelia hope,
• When thou art from her?

vamir.

• ’Tis but for a day.

amelia.

• O but that day will be an age to me.
• Grant, heaven! my tears and terrors may be vain.
• The Moor, I know, thirsts for my Vamir’s blood;
• Thinkest thou thy brother will not give it him?
• He loves with fury, and he hates with rancor;
• His hatred, like his love, is in extreme:
• He is thy rival, and the Moor’s ally.
• I tremble for thee.

vamir.

• He would never dare—

amelia.

• O his impetuous passion knows no bounds!

vamir.

• He must be taught to know them soon; the king
• Comes to avenge us; half his force already
• Throngs to the royal standard; if thou lovest me,
• Fly, my Amelia, from the impending storm,
• From dreadful slaughter, and the din of arms,
• And all the terrors of a bloody field;
• But, above all, avoid my furious rival,
• Whose jealous love despised, will turn to rage;
• Avoid an insult Vamir must avenge,
• Or perish in the attempt: my dear Amelia,
• Hope of my life, the only good on earth
• I have to boast, do not expose thyself
• To needless dangers, but retire in safety.

amelia.

• Why wilt thou hazard then thy precious life,
• And stay without Amelia?

vamir.

• When thou art safe,
• I shall not fear my brother; soon perhaps
• Vamir may prove his best support: to-day
• I am his prisoner, but perchance to-morrow
• May be his patron, and persuade the king
• To spare a rebel: to protect my rival
• Were noble triumph. Haste, Amelia, leave
• This seat of danger.

amelia.

• Wheresoever fate
• Shall cast my hapless lot, I’ll carry with me
• My hatred and my love; ’midst every danger,
• In the wild desert, or the gloomy dungeon,
• In exile, or in chains, in death itself,
• Still shall I think of, still adore my Vamir:
• But O I cannot bear to live without thee!

vamir.

• It is too much: thy griefs unman my soul.
• What noise was that? O thou hast staid too long!

SCENE II.

amelia, vamir, duke of foix,Guards.

duke.

• I hear his voice; ’tis he: stay, villain, thou
• Who hast betrayed me.

vamir.

• I betrayed thee not.
• Now satiate thy revenge, and take my life;
• Lose not a moment, for the hand of heaven
• Is raised against thee: tremble, slave, thy king
• Approaches: thou hast conquered none but Vamir:
• Thy master comes, take heed.

duke.

• He may avenge,
• But cannot save thee; for thy blood—

amelia.

• O no,
• Amelia’s guilty: let Amelia die,
• And not my Vamir: I deceived thy guards,
• And bartered with them to assist my flight
• From hated slavery, and a tyrant’s power:
• Punish my crimes, but, O respect a brother,
• Respect thyself, thy own unblemished fame!
• He ne’er betrayed, but loves and would have served thee,
• Even when thy rage had doomed him to destruction.
• What crime has he committed? none, my lord,
• None but the crime of loving his Amelia.

duke.

• The more thou pleadest for him, the more his guilt:
• Thou art his murderer: thou, whose fatal charms
• Have poisoned all our happiness, and armed
• Our hands against each other, may the blood
• Of both fall on thee! now thou weepest; thy tears
• No longer shall deceive me: I must die,
• But Vamir first shall perish. Yet I love thee,
• Even yet thou mayest escape the fatal blow:
• Accept my hand, attend me to the altar,
• And seal his pardon there.

amelia.

• Who, I, my lord?

duke.

• It is enough.

amelia.

• Shall I be false to Vamir?

duke.

• Stop—answer me.

amelia.

• I cannot.

duke.

• Let him die.

vamir.

• Amelia, never let his threats o’ercome
• Thy noble faith, but love me well enough
• To see me perish: leave me to my fate;
• Now I shall fall triumphant: shouldst thou yield,
• Vamir must die by his Amelia’s hand.

duke.

• Guards, drag the traitor to the tower: away.

SCENE III.

duke, amelia.

amelia.

• And wilt thou make this horrid sacrifice?
• Pollute thee with the blood of innocence?
• Thou wilt not!

duke.

• Yes: to hate thee, and to die,
• Is all I wish; to see thee more unhappy,
• More wretched than myself, to shed the blood
• That’s dearest to thee, and to make thy days
• As full of woe as was that fatal hour
• Which hath destroyed us all. Away, and leave me;
• The sight of thee distracts me.

SCENE IV.

duke, amelia, lisois.

amelia.

• From thy justice,
• And, that alone, I can expect relief.
• Help me to soften this obdurate heart:
• Assist me, Lisois.

duke.

• If thou listenest to her,
• Thou art not my friend.

amelia.

• I call just heaven to witness.

duke.

• Hence from my sight: I loathe thee.

amelia.

• Tyrant, go,
• For I abhor thee; spite of all thy rage,
• I thought a woman might at least command
• Some cold respect: but love, that softens all,
• Hath lost its tender influence o’er thy heart:
• I leave thee to thy rage; go, sacrifice
• Thy victims, amidst thy crimes be sure thou count
• Amelia’s death, and with it count thy own,
• For vengeance comes, and in thy punishment
• Unites us all; inglorious shalt thou perish,
• And unlamented. Die, inhuman savage;
• And may that hatred, that contempt of thee,
• Which now I feel, pursue thy memory,
• And after ages execrate thy name!

SCENE V.

duke of foix, lisois.

duke.

• Yes, cruel prophet, I expect the doom
• Pronounced by thee, that discord’s fatal hand
• Shall seize on all, and join us in the tomb.

lisois.

• Rage has o’erpowered him, and his senses fail.

duke.

• What says my friend? am I to suffer shame
• And insult thus; and shall my haughty rival
• Bear off the false, perfidious, dear Amelia?
• Wilt thou bear this, or waitest thou till the traitor
• Shall raise a powerful faction to enslave me?

lisois.

• Too well I see, my lord, the royal party
• Hath spread sedition through the multitude,
• And shook their faith.

duke.

• Vamir lights up the flame:
• He has betrayed us all.

lisois.

• I never meant
• To palliate Vamir’s crimes, for much I dread
• The fatal consequence; already France
• Is armed against us. If the people seek
• Their safety in rebellion, all is lost,
• Danger’s on every side.

duke.

• What’s to be done?

lisois.

• Prevent it; rage and love must be subdued;
• Then may we conquer all. We must be firm
• And resolute; avoid, or brave the storm,
• Do as thou wilt, my hand is ready still
• To aid my friend. This morning thou hadst thoughts
• Of treating with the king: if thou commandest,
• I’ll go, my lord, even now, and sue for peace;
• Or if we try the fortune of the day,
• The faithful Lisois shall attend thee still:
• There, if thou fallest, thy friend shall not survive thee.

duke.

• Alone I will descend into the grave:
• Live thou, to serve my cause, and to avenge me.
• My hour is come, I must fulfil my fate:
• Who wishes but for death, is sure to find it;
• But mine should come with all his terrors round him;
• I must have vengeance; and whene’er I fall,
• Will drag my rival with me to the tomb.

lisois.

• What horrid thoughts are these!

duke.

• In yonder tower
• He is confined: ’tis under thy command,
• And thou didst promise, that whene’er—

lisois.

• Of whom
• Speakest thou, my lord? a brother?

duke.

• No: a traitor,
• My worst of foes, a rival who abhors me;
• One who has robbed me of my dearest treasure:
• The Moor demands his head, and I have promised
• To give it him.

lisois.

• Ha! promised to shake off
• The bonds of nature and humanity!

duke.

• Long since they had proscribed him.

lisois.

• And to them,
• Thou yieldest his life?

duke.

• Not to their vengeance only,
• But to my own, which shall be satisfied.
• What is the Moor to me, or what my country?

lisois.

• To love then you would make the sacrifice,
• And I must be the executioner.

duke.

• No: I expect not so much justice from thee;
• I am a wretch, abandoned and forlorn,
• Betrayed by love, deserted by my friend;
• But there are those who yet will keep their promise;
• Others, perhaps, may serve me, nor allege
• Such poor excuses for ingratitude.

lisois.

• [After a long silence.
• I am resolved; and be it guilt or justice,
• Ne’er shalt thou say that Lisois hath betrayed thee:
• Thou art unhappy: Vamir is a traitor.
• It is enough; I love thee, and consent:
• There is a time for desperate extremes,
• When duties the most sacred must give way
• To hard necessity: at such an hour
• I cannot suffer thee to try the faith
• Of any heart but mine: success alone
• Must prove my friendship: soon shalt thou determine
• Whether thy Lisois loved thee, and was faithful.

duke.

• Once more in sorrow I behold a friend;
• Deserted by the world, in thee I find
• My only refuge: thou wilt not permit
• A haughty rival to insult my rage,
• To trample on my ashes, and enjoy
• My kingdom in the arms of my Amelia.

lisois.

• I will not; but in recompense for this,
• I must demand another sacrifice.

duke.

• What is it? speak.

lisois.

• I cannot bear the Moor,
• Our insolent protector; cannot bear
• To see him lord it o’er thy noble subjects.
• I would not serve a tyrant, nor submit
• To shameful slavery for a poor support
• We do not want; ’tis in our power at least
• To die without him: leave to me, my lord,
• The conduct of this day, perhaps my service
• May claim it of thee: Lisois and the Moor
• Would ne’er agree: I must command alone,
• To the last hour.

duke.

• Thou shalt: I’ll give thee all
• Thou canst desire, let but Amelia feel
• Despair like mine, and weep in tears of blood
• Her treacherous lover: let me hear her groans
• In my last moments to delight my soul;
• And for the rest, ’tis equal all: to thee
• I trust my glory; go, dispose, command,
• Prepare thee for the field. I hope not now
• For victory, nor for honorable death;
• For what is honor to a heart like mine,
• Sunk in despair! O be the sad remembrance
• Of a false mistress, and a cruel rival,
• Buried with me in everlasting silence!

lisois.

• Eternal night, if possible, should hide
• Such dreadful deeds: would death had closed our eyes
• Before this day of horrors; but I go
• To keep my word, and save my friend. Farewell.

End of the Fourth Act.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

duke of foix, an officer.

duke.

• Perpetual misery! am I doomed to see
• Nothing but faction, treason, and revolt?
• Where are the rebels, do they mutiny?

officer.

• At sight of you, my lord, the crowd dispersed.

duke.

• On every side I am oppressed by Vamir;
• All hearts are his; my miseries are complete;
• But what hath Lisois done?

officer.

• His watchful courage
• Defends our ramparts ’gainst the foe.

duke.

• That soldier
• You brought to me in secret, has he done
• What I commanded?

officer.

• Yes, my lord: ere now
• He’s at the tower.

duke.

• ’Tis well: a common arm
• Will do it best, and execute my vengeance
• Without remorse: Lisois’ uncertain heart
• Was not to be depended on; methought
• He looked with too much coolness on my rage;
• We seldom try to mitigate a grief,
• Which we contemn: to other hands I’ll trust
• My great revenge.—Go thou, and fetch my standard,
• Let it be brought upon the ramparts to me:
• New dangers press, and for the field again
• We must prepare: let the same zeal inspire thee,
• And the same courage, imitate thy master,
• And learn of him—to die,
• [Exit Officer.
• Ere this ’tis done.
• A base, ungrateful woman dips my hands
• In brother’s blood, and leads me to the tomb:
• A guilty murderer, ha! what means my heart?
• I’ve nourished vengeance long; and shall I not
• Enjoy it now? I tremble: and a voice,
• Solemn and sad, cries from my inmost soul,
• Stop, Foix, he is thy brother, hapless prince,
• Call back the murderer: Vamir was thy friend.
• O sweet remembrance of our infant years,
• When in the days of innocence our hearts
• Spoke nature’s language, and imparted free
• Our mutual wishes! O how oft has Vamir
• Partook my griefs, and with a brother’s hand,
• Wiped off the falling tears! and shall I now
• Destroy him? O thou fatal passion, where,
• Where hast thou led me? sure I was not born
• This savage, this barbarian: Vamir yet
• Was guilty; Vamir robbed me of my life,
• In my Amelia: still I am unjust;
• He loved; was that a crime to merit death?
• Alas! nor time, nor war, nor absence, cooled
• Their faithful passion; still their guiltless flame
• In purest lustre shone, before my heart
• Was poisoned by the cruel draught of love:
• But Vamir braves my wrath, and is my foe;
• Deceives me, hates me; yet he is my brother.
• He should have lived, he was beloved, and happy,
• And only I should perish: I will die
• But as I lived, with honor. Pity melts me,
• Nature determines, and I will forgive him.
• ’Tis time—

SCENE II.

duke of foix, an officer.

duke.

• Prevent a parricide: away,
• Haste to the tower, reverse my orders: go.
• And let my brother—

officer.

• O my lord—

duke.

• What sayest thou!
• Run, fly, obey me.

officer.

• Near the gate this moment
• I saw a body covered o’er with blood,
• Carried in secret forth by Lisois’ orders,
• And much I fear—

duke.

• O heaven! my brother’s dead
• And I yet live: earth hath not swallowed me,
• Nor lightning blasted: a base murderer,
• Foe to his country, an unnatural brother,
• How love has changed me! what a load of guilt
• Have I to answer for! the veil’s removed;
• And now, alas! I know myself too well;
• I cannot be more guilty: O my brother!
• I feel I loved thee, yet I slew thee, Vamir.

officer.

• Amelia comes, my lord, and begs to speak
• In private with you.

duke.

• O I must not see her!
• Not for the world: I cannot bear it: no,
• She will avenge the murder in my blood:
• But let her come: I tremble to behold her.

SCENE III.

duke of foix, amelia, thais.

amelia.

• My lord, you have prevailed: and since that hatred
• (How can I call it by another name?)
• Which hath so long pursued me, now requires
• A brother’s blood, or his Amelia’s hand,
• Take it: the choice is made, and I am thine:
• Remember, I’m the purchase of thy guilt:
• Loosen his chains, and set my Vamir free,
• That I no more may tremble for his life,
• And I will give thee all, yield up my hopes
• Of happiness with him, and follow thee,
• Even to the altar; there the hand that gives
• My faith away shall punish all my weakness.
• Know, at the temple, where thy bridal vows—
• But thou desirest my hand, and that alone
• I have to give thee: ha! thou art silent: say,
• Is Vamir, is thy brother freed already?

duke.

• My brother!

amelia.

• Gracious heaven!—remove my fears,
• Thy eyes are bathed in tears.

duke.

• Thou askest his life

amelia.

• What do I hear? didst thou not promise me—

duke.

• It is too late.

amelia.

• Too late! O Vamir!

duke.

• Yes,
• It is indeed; would it were not, Amelia;
• The cruel Lisois has obeyed my orders
• Too faithfully: O live, to punish me;
• Pierce this inhuman, this unnatural heart,
• That loved thee but too well: I killed my brother,
• But for thy sake: revenge on me the crimes
• Which but for thee I never had committed.

amelia.

• [Falling into the arms of Thais.
• Vamir is dead, barbarian!

duke.

• And thy hand
• Shall shed the murderer’s blood.

amelia.

• [Fainting.
• And is he gone?
• My Vamir—

duke.

• Thy reproaches—

amelia.

• Spare me, spare me,
• I’ll not reproach thee; take thy sorrows hence,
• And thy repentance: let me but embrace him,
• And die.

duke.

• Amelia, thou hast too much cause
• To grieve, but O for pity take this life
• That’s hateful to me; but I’ve not deserved
• To perish by thy hand; but thou shalt guide—

SCENE IV.

duke, amelia, lisois.

lisois.

• What would thy rashness do?

duke.

• [They disarm him.
• An act of justice:
• Punish myself.

amelia.

• Wert thou his vile accomplice?

duke.

• Thou minister of guilt, thou hast obeyed me.

lisois.

• I promised you, my lord, and I have done
• But what I ought.

duke.

• Thy stubborn virtue oft
• Hath checked my follies, and opposed my weakness;
• But when I bade thee be a murderer,
• And kill my brother, then thou wert obedient.

lisois.

• When I refused but now to execute
• The bloody office, didst thou not employ
• Another hand?

duke.

• Love, powerful love, that chained
• My reason down, and swayed my foolish heart,
• Love pleads for me; but thou whose wisdom calms
• Each rising passion, whose unaltered soul,
• Firm and unshaken, I so oft have feared,
• So oft respected, that thou, thus unmoved,
• Shouldst suffer such a deed of horror; O
• ’Tis terrible!

lisois.

• Since sorrow and repentance,
• Virtue’s best monitors, have pierced thy soul
• With just remorse: since, spite of all thy rashness,
• To save a brother’s blood thou gladly now
• Wouldst give thy own; ye both shall find a friend.
• Keep thou thy penitence.
• [To the Duke.
• Dry up thy tears.
• [To Amelia.
• This is a day of triumph. Prince, come forth:
• Embrace thy brother.
• [The Scene opens, and discovers Vamir.

amelia.

• O my Vamir!

duke.

• Ha!
• My brother!

amelia.

• Gracious heaven!

duke.

• Can it be?
• vamir,advancing to the front.
• Again I see, again embrace my brother.

duke.

• O thy forgiveness makes my crime still greater.

amelia.

• O noble Lisois, thou hast given me life.

duke.

• Life to us all.

lisois.

• A base assassin raised
• His arm against Vamir, but I felled the traitor,
• And laid him breathless at my feet, then feigned
• That I had shed thy brother’s blood: I knew
• Thou wouldst repent, and wish the deed undone.

duke.

• This was a service I can ne’er reward
• But by endeavoring to be worthy of it:
• My crime sits heavy on me, and my eyes,
• Fixed on the earth, dare not look up to Vamir,
• And to the wronged Amelia.

vamir.

• We would both
• Have served thee with our royal master; both
• Are still devoted to thee. What, my brother,
• Is thy design? O speak!

duke.

• To do you justice:
• To expiate, by the greatest punishment,
• The greatest crime that love and fierce resentment
• Could e’er commit: long I adored Amelia;
• Even when I gave her Vamir up to death,
• I loved Amelia: I adore her still,
• Nay, more than ever, yet I yield her to thee,
• And sacrifice my heart to make you blest.
• Take her, be happy, and forgive thy brother.

vamir.

• Behold me at thy feet, with gratitude
• Warm as thy bounty, as thy love sincere.

amelia.

• Permit me to embrace thy knees with Vamir,
• Accept our tenderest friendship, for thy goodness
• Has amply paid for all my sufferings past.

duke.

• No more of this, it doubles my misfortunes,
• And shows me but what happiness I’ve lost:
• But I will learn from you to follow virtue,
• My heart is yours: I’m now indeed thy brother,
• By thy example I will love my country.
• Let us away, and to the king relate
• My crimes, my sorrows, and thy happiness:
• Let Vamir’s zeal and Vamir’s truth be mine,
• Faithful to France, to friendship, and to thee;
• Foix shall deserve your pardon and your praise;
• Ye shall forget his follies and his crimes,
• And henceforth know him only by his virtues.

End of the Fifth and Last Act.

ŒDIPUS

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Œdipus, King of Thebes.

Jocaste, Queen of Thebes.

Philoctetes, Prince of Eubæa.

High Priest.

Araspes, Confidant of Œdipus.

Ægina, Confidante of Jocaste.

Dimas, Friend of Philoctetes.

Phorbas, an old Man of Thebes.

Icarus, an old Man of Corinth.

Chorus of Thebans.

SCENE Thebes.

[Œdipus was written when M. de Voltaire was but nineteen years of age. It was played for the first time in 1718, and ran five-and-forty nights. Du Frêsne, a celebrated actor, and of the same age with the author, played the part of Œdipus; and Madame Desmarêts, a famous actress, did Jocaste, and soon after quitted the stage. In this edition, the part of Philoctetes is restored, and stands exactly as it was in the first representation.]

ACT I.

SCENE I.

philoctetes, dimas.

dimas.

• Is it my friend, my Philoctetes? Whence
• And wherefore comest thou to distempered Thebes
• In search of death, to brave the wrath of heaven?
• For, know, the gods on this devoted land
• Wreak their full vengeance: mortals dare not tread
• The guilty soil, to death and horror long
• Consigned, and from the living world cut off:
• Away, begone!

philoctetes.

• It suits a wretch like me:
• Leave me, my friend, to my unhappy fate;
• And only tell me, if the wrath divine
• Hath, in its rapid progress, spared the queen.

dimas.

• Jocaste lives; but round her throne still spreads
• The dire contagion; every fatal moment
• Deprives her of some faithful subject: death
• Steals closer by degrees, and seems to threat
• Her sacred life. But heaven, we trust, will soon
• Withdraw its vengeful arm: such scenes of blood
• Will sure appease its rage.

philoctetes.

• What horrid crime
• Could bring down so severe a punishment?

dimas.

• Since the king’s death—

philoctetes.

• The king! ha! Laius—

dimas.

• Died
• Some four years since.

philoctetes.

• Ha! Laius dead! indeed!
• What sweet seducing hope awakes my soul?
• Jocaste! will the gods at length be kind?
• May Philoctetes still be thine? But say,
• Dimas, how fell the king?

dimas.

• ’Tis four years since
• For the last time towards Bœotia, led
• By fate, you came; scarce had you bent your way
• To Asia, e’er the unhappy Laius fell
• By some base hand.

philoctetes.

• Assassinated, sayest thou?

dimas.

• This was the cause, the source of all our ills,
• The ruin of this wretched country: shocked
• At the sad stroke, we wept the general loss,
• When lo! the minister of wrath divine,
• (Fatal to innocence, and favoring long
• Unpunished guilt) a dreadful monster came,
• (O Philoctetes, would thou hadst been here!)
• And ravaged all our borders, horrid form!
• Made for destruction by avenging heaven,
• With human voice, an eagle, woman, lion,
• Unnatural mixture! rage with cunning joined
• United to destroy us: naught remained
• To save but this alone; in phrase obscure
• The monster had proposed to affrighted Thebes
• A strange enigma, which who could unfold
• Should save his country; if he failed, must die.
• Reluctant we obeyed the hard decree.
• Instant the general voice aloud proclaimed
• The kingdom his reward, who, by the gods
• Inspired, should first unveil the mystery.
• The aged and the wise, by hope misled,
• With fruitless science braved the monster’s rage;
• Vain knowledge all! all tried and trying fell,
• Till Œdipus, the heir to Corinth’s throne,
• Endowed with wisdom far above his years,
• Fearless, and led by fortune, came, beheld,
• Unfolded all, and took the great reward;
• Lives still, and reigns o’er Thebes; but reigns, alas!
• O’er dying subjects, and a desert land.
• Vainly we hoped to see the wayward fates
• Chained to his throne, and yielding to the hand
• Of Œdipus, our great deliverer.
• A little time the gods propitious smiled,
• And blessed us with a gleam of transient peace;
• But barrenness and famine soon destroyed
• Our airy hopes: ills heaped on ills succeed,
• A dreadful plague unpeoples half the realms
• Of sickly Thebes, snatching the poor remains
• Just escaped from famine and the grave: high heaven
• Hath thus ordained, and such our hapless fate.
• But say, illustrious hero, whom the gods
• Have long approved, say, wherefore hast thou left
• The paths of glory, and the smiles of fortune,
• To seek the regions of affliction here?

philoctetes.

• I come to join my sorrows and my tears,
• For know the world with me hath lost its best
• And noblest friend: ne’er shall these eyes behold
• The offspring of the gods, like them unconquered,
• Earth’s best support, the guardian deity
• Of innocence oppressed: I mourn a friend,
• The world a father.

dimas.

• Is Alcides dead?

philoctetes.

• These hands performed the melancholy office,
• Laid on his funeral pile the first of men;
• The all-conquering arrows, those dear dreadful gifts
• The son of Jove bequeathed me, have I brought,
• With his cold ashes, here, where I will raise
• A tomb and altars to my valued friend.
• O! had he lived! had but indulgent heaven,
• In pity to mankind, prolonged his days,
• Far from Jocaste I had still remained;
• And, though I might have cherished still my vain
• And hopeless passion, had not wandered here,
• Or left Alcides for a woman’s love.

dimas.

• Oft have I pitied thy unhappy flame,
• Caught in thy earliest youth, increasing still
• And growing with thy growth: Jocaste, forced
• By a hard father to a hateful bed,
• Unwillingly partook the throne of Laius.
• Alas! what tears those fatal nuptials cost,
• What sorrows have they brought on wretched Thebes!
• How have I oft admired thy noble soul,
• Worthy of empire! conqueror o’er thyself:
• There first the hero shone, repressed his passion,
• And the first tyrant he subdued was love.

philoctetes.

• There we must fly to conquer; I confess it:
• Long time I strove, I felt my weakness long;
• At length resolved to shun the fatal place,
• I took a last farewell of my Jocaste.
• The world then trembled at Alcides’ name,
• And on his valor did suspend their fate;
• I joined the god-like man, partook his toils,
• Marched by his side, and twined his laurel wreath
• Round my own brows: then my enlightened soul
• Against the passions armed, and rose superior.
• A great man’s friendship is the gift of heaven.
• In him I read my duty and my fate;
• I bound myself to virtue and to him:
• My valor strengthened, and my heart improved,
• Not hardened, I became like my Alcides.
• What had I been without him! a king’s son,
• A common prince, the slave of every passion,
• Which Hercules hath taught me to subdue.

dimas.

• Now then unmoved thou canst behold Jocaste,
• And her new husband.

philoctetes.

• Ha! another husband!
• Saidst thou, another?

dimas.

• Œdipus hath joined
• To hers his future fate

philoctetes.

• He is too happy;
• But he is worthy: he who saved a kingdom
• Alone can merit her, and heaven is just.

dimas.

• He comes, and with him his assembled people;
• Lo! the high-priest attends: this way they bend,
• To deprecate the wrath of angry heaven.

philoctetes.

• It melts my soul; I weep for their misfortunes.
• O Hercules, from thy eternal seat
• Look down on thy afflicted country! hear
• Thy fellow citizens! O hear thy friend,
• Who joins his prayers, and be their guardian god!

SCENE II.

high priest, chorus.

first person of the chorus.

• Ye blasting powers, who waste this wretched empire,
• And breathe contagion, death, and horrors round us,
• O quicken your slow wrath, be kind at last,
• And urge our lingering fate.

second person of the chorus.

• Strike, strike, ye gods,
• Your victims are prepared; ye mountains, fall!
• Crush us, ye heavens! O death, deliver us,
• And we shall thank you for the boon.

high priest.

• No more:
• Cease your loud plaints, the wretch’s poor resource;
• Yield to the power supreme, who means to try
• His people by affliction; with a word
• He can destroy, and with a word can save:
• He knows that death is here; the cries of Thebes
• Have reached his throne. Behold! the king approaches,
• And heaven by me declares its will divine;
• The fates will soon to Œdipus unveil
• Their mysteries all, and happier days succeed.

SCENE III.

œdipus, jocaste, high priest, ægina, dimas, araspes, chorus.

œdipus.

• O ye, who to this hallowed temple bring
• The mournful offering of your tears: O what,
• What shall I say to my afflicted people?
• Would I could turn the wrath of angry heaven
• Against myself, and quench the deadly flame?
• But O! in universal ills like these,
• Kings are but men, and only can partake
• The common danger. Say, thou minister
• Of the just gods, say, do they still refuse
• To hear the voice of misery; still relentless
• Will they behold us perish, are they deaf
• And silent still?

high priest.

• King, people, listen all:
• This night did I behold the flame of heaven
• Descending on our altars; to my eyes
• The ghastly shade of Laius then appeared,
• Indignant frowned upon me, and thus spoke
• In fearful accents, terrible to hear:
• “The death of Laius is still unrevenged,
• The murderer lives in Thebes, and doth infect
• The wholesome air with his malignant breath;
• He must be known, he must be punished,
• And on his fate depends the people’s safety.”

œdipus.

• Justly ye suffer, Thebans, for this crime;
• Laius was once your loved and honored king,
• And your neglect hath from his manes drawn
• This vengeance on you. Such is oft the fate
• Of the best sovereigns; whilst they live, respect
• Waits on their laws, their justice is admired,
• And they like gods are served, like gods adored;
• But after death they sink into oblivion.
• No longer then your flattering incense burns:
• The servile mind of wretched man still bends
• To interest; and when virtue is departed,
• ’Tis soon forgotten: therefore doth the blood
• Of murdered Laius now cry out against you,
• And sues for vengeance to offended heaven.
• To sprinkle on his tomb the murderer’s blood
• Will better far than slaughtered hecatombs
• Appease his spirit: be it all our care
• To seek the guilty wretch. Can none remember
• Aught touching this sad deed? Amidst your signs
• And wonders, could no footsteps e’er be traced
• Of this unpunished crime? They always told me
• It was a Theban, who against his prince
• Uplifted his rebellious hand. For me [To Jocaste.
• Who from thy hands received the crown, two years
• After the death of Laius did I mount
• The throne of Thebes, and never since that hour
• Would I recall the subject of thy tears,
• But in respectful silence waited still;
• Still have thy dangers busied all my soul,
• Nor left me time to think on aught but thee.

jocaste.

• When fate, which had reserved me for thy arms,
• Deprived me of my late unhappy lord,
• Who, journeying o’er his kingdom’s frontiers, fell
• By base assassins, Phorbas then alone
• Attended him, his loved and valued friend;
• To whom the king, relying on his wisdom,
• Entrusted half his power: he brought to Thebes
• The mangled corpse: himself half dead with wounds,
• And bathed in blood, fell at Jocaste’s feet;
• “Villains unknown,” he cried, “have slain the king;
• These eyes beheld it: I was dying too,
• But heaven hath restored me to prolong
• A wretched life.” He said no more. My soul
• Distracted saw the melancholy truth
• Was still concealed; and therefore heaven perhaps
• Concealed the murderer too; perhaps accomplished
• Its own eternal will, and made us guilty,
• That it might punish. Soon the sphinx appeared,
• And laid our country waste: then hapless Thebes,
• Attentive to her safety, could not think
• On Laius’ fate, whilst trembling for her own.

œdipus.

• Where is that faithful Phorbas? lives he still?

jocaste.

• Alas! his zeal and service ill repaid,
• Too powerful to be loved, the jealous state
• His secret foe, nobles and people joined
• To punish him for past felicity.
• The multitude accused him, even demanded
• Of me his death: sore pressed on every side,
• I knew not how to pardon or condemn,
• But to a neighboring castle I conveyed him,
• And hid the guiltless victim from their rage.
• There four long winters hath the poor old man,
• To future favorites a sad example,
• Without a murmur or complaint remained,
• And hopes from innocence alone release.

œdipus.

• It is enough, Jocaste. Fly, begone,
• [To his servants.
• Open the prison, bring him hither straight,
• We will examine him before you all;
• Laius and Thebes shall be avenged together:
• Yes, we will hear and judge, will sound the depth
• Of this strange mystery. Ye gods of Thebes,
• Who hear our prayers, and know the murderer, now
• Reveal, and punish; and thou, Sun, withhold
• From his dark eyes thy blessed light! proscribed,
• Abandoned, let him wander o’er the earth
• A wretched miscreant, by his sons abhorred,
• And to his mother horrible! deprived
• Of burial, let his body be the prey
• Of hungry vultures!

high priest.

• In these execrations
• We all unite.

œdipus.

• Gods! let the guilty suffer,
• And they alone! or if the high decrees
• Of your eternal justice leave to me
• His punishment, at least indulgent grant,
• Where you command, the power to obey;
• If you pursue the guilty, O complete
• The glorious work, and make the victim known!
• [To the people.
• Return, my people, to the temple; there
• Once more entreat the gods: perhaps your prayers
• May from their heavenly mansions draw them down
• To dwell among us: if they loved the king,
• They will avenge his death, and kind to him
• Who errs unknowing, will direct this arm
• For justice raised, and teach me where to strike.

The End of the First Act.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

jocaste, ægina, araspes, chorus.

araspes.

• Believe me, ’tis too true, my royal mistress,
• Your dying people, with one common voice,
• Accuse the hapless Philoctetes: fate
• Hath sent him back to save this wretched kingdom.

jocaste.

• What do I hear, ye powers?

ægina.

• ’Tis wonderful.

jocaste.

• Who? Philoctetes?

araspes.

• Yes, it must be he:
• To whom can we impute it but to him?
• When last at Thebes, he seemed to meditate
• A deed like this; for much he hated Laius:
• From Œdipus his traitorous purpose scarce
• Could he conceal; for soon unwary youth
• Betrays itself: soon through the thin disguise
• Of ill dissembled loyalty, we saw
• The rancor of his heart. I know not what
• Provoked him, but too warm and open, ever
• The slave of passion, he would kindle oft
• At the king’s name, and often pour forth threats
• Of vengeance: for some time he left the kingdom,
• But fate soon brought the restless wanderer back;
• And at that fatal time, which heaven distinguished
• By the detested shocking parricide,
• He was at Thebes: e’er since that dreadful hour,
• Suspicion justly falls on Philoctetes:
• But the high name which he had gained in war,
• His boasted title of earth’s great avenger,
• And his heroic deeds, have stopped the tongue
• Of clamor, and suspended yet the stroke
• Of our resentment. Now the time is come
• When Thebes shall think no more of vain respect;
• His glory and his conquests plead no more;
• The hearts of an oppressed people groan;
• The gods require his blood, and must be heard.

chorus.

• O queen! have pity on a wretched people,
• Who love and honor thee, revere the gods,
• And follow their example; yield up to us
• Their victim, and present our vows to heaven;
• For heaven will hear them, if they come from thee.

jocaste.

• O! if my life can mitigate its wrath,
• I give it freely; take the sacrifice;
• Accept my blood; but O! demand no more.
• Thebans, be gone.

SCENE II.

jocaste, ægina.

ægina.

• How I lament thy fate!

jocaste.

• Alas! I envy those whom death has freed
• From all their cares: but what remains for me,
• What pain and torment to a virtuous heart!

ægina.

• ’Tis terrible indeed: the clamorous people,
• Warmed with false zeal, will cry aloud for vengeance,
• And soon demand their victim. I forbear
• To accuse him; but if he at last should prove
• The murderer of thy unhappy lord,
• How it must shock thy soul!

jocaste.

• Impossible!
• Such guilt and baseness never dwelt in him.
• O my Ægina! since our bonds of love
• Were disunited, naught has pierced my heart
• Like this suspicion: this alone was wanting
• To make Jocaste most completely wretched:
• But I’ll not bear to hear him thus accused;
• I loved him, and he must be innocent.

ægina.

• That constant love—

jocaste.

• Nay, think not that my heart
• Still nourishes a guilty passion for him;
• I conquered that long since; yet, dear Ægina,
• Howe’er the soul may act which virtue guides,
• Its secret motions, nature’s children, still
• Must force their way: they will not be subdued,
• But in the folds and windings of the heart,
• Lurk still, and rush upon us; hid in fires
• We thought extinguished, from their ashes rise:
• In the hard conflict, rigid virtue may
• Resist the passions, but can ne’er destroy them.

ægina.

• How just, and yet how noble is thy grief!
• Such sentiments!—

jocaste.

• Jocaste is most wretched;
• Thou knowest my miseries, and thou knowest my heart,
• Ægina: twice hath Hymen lit his torch
• For me, and twice hath changed my slavery,
• For such it was; the only man I loved,
• Torn from my arms. Forgive me, ye just gods,
• The sad remembrance of a conquered passion.
• Ægina, thou wert witness of our loves,
• Those ties, alas! dissolved as soon as made:
• Then Œdipus, my sovereign, sought and gained me,
• Spite of myself. I took the diadem,
• Begirt with sorrows. To forget the past
• Became my duty then; and I obeyed.
• Thou knowest I stifled every tender thought
• Of my first love, disguised an aching heart,
• Drank up my tears, and even from myself
• Strove to conceal my griefs.

ægina.

• How could you venture
• The dangerous trial of a second marriage?

jocaste.

• Alas!

ægina.

• Will you forgive me? shall I speak?

jocaste.

• Thou mayest.

ægina.

• The king, the conqueror subdued thee:
• You gave your hand as a reward to him
• Who saved your country.

jocaste.

• Gracious gods!

ægina.

• Was he
• Happier than Laius? Was your Philoctetes
• Forgotten then, or did they share your heart?

jocaste.

• Thebes, by a cruel monster then laid waste,
• Had promised its deliverer my hand;
• The conqueror of the sphinx was worthy of me.

ægina.

• You loved him then?

jocaste.

• I felt some tenderness
• For Œdipus; but O! ’twas far from love:
• ’Twas not, Ægina, that tumultuous passion,
• The impetuous offspring of my ravished senses,
• Not the fierce flame that burned for Philoctetes;
• Who, by his fatal charms, subdued my reason,
• And poured love’s sweetest poison o’er my heart:
• Friendship sincere was all I could bestow
• On Œdipus, for much I prized his virtue;
• And pleased, beheld him mount the throne of Thebes
• Which he had saved; but, whilst I followed him,
• Even at the altar, my affrighted soul,
• Wherefore I knew not, was most strangely moved,
• And I retired with horror to his arms.
• To this a dreadful omen did succeed:
• Methought, Ægina, in the dead of night,
• I saw the gulf of hell yawn wide before me;
• When lo! the spirit of my murdered lord,
• Bloody and pale, with threatening aspect stood,
• And pointed to my son; that son, Ægina,
• Which I to Laius bore, and to the gods
• Offered, a cruel pious sacrifice.
• They beckoned me to follow them, and seemed
• To drag me with them to the horrid gloom
• Of Tartarus: my troubled soul long kept
• The sad idea, and must keep it ever.
• Now Philoctetes doubles every woe.

ægina.

• I heard a noise that way, and, see he comes.

jocaste.

• ’Tis he; I tremble: but I will avoid him.

SCENE III.

jocaste, philoctetes.

philoctetes.

• Do not avoid me, do not fly, Jocaste.
• From Philoctetes; turn, and look upon me:
• O speak to me, nor fear my jealous tears
• Should interrupt the new-born happiness
• Of thy late nuptials: think not that I came
• To cast reproaches on thee, or with sighs
• To win thy lost affection; vulgar arts,
• Unworthy of us both! the heart, Jocaste,
• That burned for thee, and if I may recall
• Thy plighted faith, was once not hateful to thee,
• Has learned, from thy example, not to feel
• Weakness like that.

jocaste.

• I must approve thy conduct,
• And ’tis but fit I vindicate my own:
• I loved thee, Philoctetes; but my fate
• Tore me from thee, and gave me to another.
• Thou knowest what woes the horrid sphinx, by heaven
• Appointed to afflict us, brought on Thebes:
• Too well thou knowest that Œdipus—

philoctetes.

• Is thine;
• I know it, and is worthy of the blessing:
• Young as he was, his wisdom saved thy country;
• His virtues, his fair deeds, and what still more
• Exalted him, Jocaste’s love, have ranked
• Thy Œdipus among the first of men.
• Wherefore did cruel fortune, still resolved
• To punish Philoctetes, drive me hence,
• To seek vain trophies in a distant land?
• O! if the conqueror of the sphinx was doomed
• To conquer thee, why was not I at Thebes?
• I’d not have labored in the fruitless search
• Of idle mysteries, wrapped in words of darkness;
• This arm, to conquest long beneath thy smiles
• Accustomed, should have drawn the vengeful sword,
• And laid the howling monster at thy feet.
• But O! a happier arm has wrested from me
• That noblest triumph, and deserved Jocaste.

jocaste.

• Alas! thou knowest not yet what ills await thee.

philoctetes.

• Thee and Alcides I have lost already:
• Is there aught more to fear?

jocaste.

• Thou dwellest at Thebes;
• The detestation of avenging gods;
• The baneful pestilence stalks forth amongst us;
• The blood of Laius cries aloud, and heaven
• Pursues us still: the murderer must bleed;
• He has been sought for; some have dared to say
• That he is found, and call him Philoctetes.

philoctetes.

• Astonishment! the base suspicion shocks
• My soul, and bids my tongue be silent ever
• On the opprobrious theme: accused of murder!
• Murdering thy husband! thou canst never believe it.

jocaste.

• O! never! ’twere injurious to thy honor
• To combat such imposture, or refute
• The vile aspersion; no, thou knowest my heart,
• Thou hadst my love, and couldst not do a deed
• Unworthy of it. Let them perish all,
• These worthless Thebans, who deserve their fate
• For thus suspecting thee: but, hence! begone!
• Our vows are fruitless: heaven reserves for thee
• Superior blessings. Thou wert born to serve
• The gods, whose wisdom would not bury here
• Virtues like thine, or suffer love to rule
• A heart designed for universal sway,
• And courage fit to save and bless mankind.
• Ill would it suit the follower of Alcides
• To lose his moments in the fond concerns,
• The little cares of love. Thy hours are due
• To the unhappy and the injured: they
• Will all thy time and all thy virtue claim.
• Already tyrants throng on every side;
• Alcides dead, new monsters rise; go, thou,
• And give the world another Hercules.
• Œdipus comes; permit me to retire;
• Not that I fear the weakness of my heart,
• But as Jocaste loved thee once, and he
• Is now my husband, I should blush before you.

SCENE IV.

œdipus, philoctetes, araspes.

œdipus.

• Sayst thou, Araspes, is he here, the prince,
• The noble Philoctetes?

philoctetes.

• Yes; ’tis he;
• Led by blind fortune to this hapless clime,
• Where angry heaven hath made me suffer wrongs
• I am not used to bear. I know the crimes
• Laid to my charge; but think not that I mean
• To justify myself: too well I know thee
• To think that Œdipus would ever stoop
• To such low mean suspicions: no! thy fame
• Is mixed with mine; in the same steps of honor
• We trod together. Theseus, Hercules,
• And Philoctetes, pointed out to thee
• The paths of glory; do not then disgrace
• Their names, and taint thy own, by calumny,
• But keep their bright examples still before thee.

œdipus.

• All that I wish is but to save my country,
• And if I can be useful to mankind,
• This is the ambition I would satisfy,
• And this the lesson which those heroes taught,
• Whom thou hast followed, and whom I admire.
• I meant not to accuse thee: had I chose
• The people’s victim, it had been myself.
• I think it but the duty of a king
• To perish for his country: ’tis an honor
• Too great for common men. Then had I saved
• Once more my Thebans, yielded up my life,
• And sheltered thine: but ’twas not in my power.
• The blood of guilt must flow, thou standest accused.
• Defend thyself: if thou art innocent,
• None shall rejoice so much as Œdipus;
• Nor as a criminal shall then receive thee,
• But as my noble friend, as Philoctetes.

philoctetes.

• I thought myself, indeed, above suspicion:
• From many a base assassin has this arm,
• While Jove’s dread thunder slept, relieved mankind
• Whom we chastise, we seldom imitate.

œdipus.

• I do not think thou wouldst disgrace thy name,
• And thy fair martial deeds, by such a crime.
• If Laius fell by thee, he fell with honor,
• I doubt it not, for I must do thee justice.

philoctetes.

• If I had slain him, I had only gained
• One added triumph. Kings, indeed, are gods
• To their own subjects, but to Hercules,
• Or me, they were no more than common men.
• I have avenged the wrongs of mighty princes;
• And, therefore, little, thou mayest think, should fear
• To attack the bravest.

œdipus.

• Heroes, like thyself,
• Are equal even to kings, I know they are:
• But still remember, prince, whoe’er slew Laius,
• His head must answer for the woes of Thebes;
• And thou—

philoctetes.

• I slew him not; let that suffice.
• If I had done the deed, I would have owned,
• Nay boasted of it. Hear me, Œdipus,
• Though vulgar souls, by vulgar methods, deign
• To vindicate their injured honor; kings
• And heroes, when they speak, expect, no doubt,
• To be believed: perhaps thou dost suspect
• I murdered Laius. It becomes not thee,
• Of all men, to accuse me: to thy hand
• Devolved his sceptre and his queen. Who reaped
• The fruits of Laius’s death, but Œdipus?
• Who took the spoils? Who filled his throne? Not I.
• That object never tempted Philoctetes:
• Alcides never would accept a crown:
• We knew no master, and desired no subjects:
• I have made kings, but never wished to be one.
• But ’tis beneath me to refute the falsehood,
• For innocence is lessened by defence.

œdipus.

• Thy pride offends me, whilst thy virtue charms.
• If thou art guiltless, thou hast naught to fear
• From justice and the laws; thy innocence
• Will shine with double splendor: dwell with us,
• And wait the event.

philoctetes.

• My honor is concerned,
• And therefore I shall stay; nor hence depart
• Till I have ample vengeance for the wrongs
• Thy base suspicions cast on Philoctetes.

SCENE V.

œdipus, araspes.

œdipus.

• Araspes, I can never think him guilty:
• A heart like his, intrepid, brave, and fearless,
• Could never stoop to mean disguise; nor thoughts
• So noble e’er inspire the timid breast
• Of falsehood: no! such baseness is far from him:
• I even blushed to accuse him, and condemned
• My own injustice: hard and cruel fate
• Of royalty! alas! kings cannot read
• The hearts of men, and oft on innocence,
• Spite of ourselves unjust, inflict the pains
• Due to the guilty. How this Phorbas lingers!
• In him alone are all my hopes: the gods
• Refuse to hear or answer to our vows;
• Their silence shows how much they are offended.

araspes.

• Rely then on thyself: the gods, whose aid
• This priest hath promised, do not always dwell
• Within their temples; tripods, caves, and cells,
• The brazen mouths that pour forth oracles,
• Which men had framed, by men may be inspired;
• We must not rest our faith on priests alone;
• Even in the sanctuary traitors oft
• May lurk unseen, exert their pious arts
• To enslave mankind, and bid the destinies
• Speak or be silent just as they command them.
• Search then, and find the truth, examine all;
• Phorbas, and Philoctetes, and Jocaste.
• Trust to yourself; let our own eyes determine;
• Be they our tripods, oracles, and gods.

œdipus.

• Within the temple, thinkest thou, perfidy
• Like this can dwell: but if just heaven at last
• Should fix our fate, and Œdipus be called
• To execute its will, he will receive
• The precious trust, the safety of his country,
• Nor act unworthy of it. To the gods
• Once more I go, and with incessant prayer
• Will try to soothe their anger: thou, meantime,
• If thou wouldst wish to serve me, hasten onward
• The lingering Phorbas; in our hapless state,
• I must enquire the truth of gods and men.

The End of the Second Act.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

jocaste, ægina.

jocaste.

• Yes, my Ægina, I expect him here;
• ’Tis the last time these eyes shall e’er behold
• The wretched Philoctetes.

ægina.

• Thou hast heard,
• My royal mistress, to what desperate height
• The clamorous people carry their resentment;
• Our dying Thebans from his punishment
• Expect their safety. Old men, women, children,
• United by misfortunes, breathe forth vengeance;
• Pronounce him guilty, and cry out that heaven
• Demands his blood: canst thou resist the torrent,
• Defend, or save him?

jocaste.

• Yes: I will defend him;
• Even though Thebes should lift the murderous hand
• Against her queen, beneath her smoking walls
• To crush Jocaste, ne’er would I betray
• Such injured innocence; but still I fear
• The tongue of slander: well thou knowest my heart
• Once sighed for Philoctetes; now, Ægina,
• Will they not say I sacrifice to him
• My fame, my gods, my country, and my husband?
• Will they not say Jocaste loves him still?

ægina.

• Calm thy vain fears; thy passion had no witness
• But me, and never—

jocaste.

• Thinkest thou that a princess
• Can e’er conceal her hatred or her love?
• O no! on every side the eager eyes
• Of courtiers look upon us: through the veil
• Of feigned respect, with subtle treachery
• They search our hearts, and trace out every weakness.
• Naught can escape their sharp malignant sight;
• A little word, a sigh, or glance betrays us;
• Our very silence shall be made to speak
• Our thoughts; and when their busy artifice,
• Spite of ourselves, hath drawn the secret from us,
• Then their loud censures cast invidious light
• O’er all our actions, and the instructed world
• Is quickly taught to echo every weakness.

ægina.

• But what hast thou to fear from calumny?
• What piercing eye can wound Jocaste’s fame?
• Who knows thy love, will know thy conquest o’er it;
• Will know thy virtue still supported thee.

jocaste.

• It is that virtue which distresses me;
• I look, perhaps, with too severe an eye
• On my own weakness, and accuse myself
• Unjustly; but the image still remains
• Of Philoctetes, engraved within my heart
• Too deep for time or virtue to efface it;
• And much I doubt, if when I strive to save him.
• I act not less from justice than from love:
• My pity hath too much of tenderness;
• I tremble oft, and oft reproach myself
• For my fond care; I could be more his friend,
• If he had been less dear to me.

ægina.

• But say,
• Is it your will that he depart?

jocaste.

• It is:
• And O! if he would listen to Jocaste,
• Never return, never behold me more;
• Fly from this fatal, this distressful scene,
• And save my life and fame. But what detains him?
• Why hastes he not? Ægina, fly—

SCENE II.

philoctetes, ægina, jocaste.

jocaste.

• He’s here.
• O prince, my soul is on the rack; I blush
• To see the man whom duty bids me shun,
• Which says I should forget and not betray thee.
• Doubtless thou knowest the dreadful fate that hangs
• O’er thy devoted head.

philoctetes.

• The clamorous people
• Demand my life; but they have suffered much,
• And therefore, though unjust, I pity them.

jocaste.

• Yield not thyself a victim to their rage:
• Away, begone; as yet thou art thyself
• The master of thy fate; but this perhaps
• Is the last minute that can give me power
• To save thee: far, O fly far from Jocaste;
• And, in return for added life, I beg thee
• But to forget ’twas I who thus preserved it.

philoctetes.

• I could have wished, Jocaste, thou hadst shown
• More strength of mind, and less compassion for me;
• Preferred with me my honor to my life,
• And rather bade me die than meanly quit
• My station here: I yet am innocent,
• But in obeying thee I should be guilty.
• Of all the blessings heaven bestowed upon me,
• My honor and my fame alone remain
• Untouched. O! do not rob me of a treasure
• So precious to me; do not make me thus
• Unworthy of Jocaste. I have lived,
• Lived to fulfil the fate allotted to me;
• Have passed my sacred word to Œdipus,
• And whatsoever suspicions he may cherish,
• I am a stranger to the breach of honor.

jocaste.

• O Philoctetes, let me here entreat thee,
• By the just gods, by that ill-fated passion,
• Which once inspired thy breast, if aught remains
• Of tender friendship, if thou still rememberest
• How much my happiness on thine depended,
• Deign to prolong a glorious life, and days
• That should have been united with Jocaste.

philoctetes.

• To thee devoted I would have them still
• In equal tenor flow, and worthy of thee;
• I’ve lived far from thee, and shall die content,
• If thy regard attends me to the tomb
• Who knows but heaven may yet refuse to see
• This bloody sacrifice; perhaps, in mercy
• It guided me to Thebes to save Jocaste;
• Shortened my days, perhaps, to lengthen thine.
• Happy event! the blood of innocence
• May be accepted; mine is not unworthy.

SCENE III.

œdipus, jocaste, philoctetes, ægina, araspes,with Attendants.

œdipus.

• Fear not the clamors of an idle crowd,
• That rage tumultuous, and demand thy death:
• Know, Philoctetes, I have calmed their rage
• And will myself, if needful, be thy guard.
• I judge not with the hasty multitude,
• But wish to see thy innocence appear:
• My doubtful mind, uncertain where to fix,
• Nor dares or to condemn, or to acquit thee:
• Heaven can alone determine all, which hears
• My ardent prayer; at length it seems appeased,
• And by its priest shall soon point out the victim.
• The gods shall soon decide ’twixt Thebes and thee.

philoctetes.

• Great is thy love of truth, O king, but know
• Justice extreme is height of injury;
• We must not always hearken to the voice
• Of rigor: honor is the first of laws,
• Let us observe it. But thou seest me sunk
• Beneath myself, answering the slandrous tongues
• Of base defamers, whom I should despise.
• O let not Œdipus unite with such
• To ruin my fair fame! it is enough
• That I deny it; ’tis enough to call
• My life before thee. Let Alcides come,
• And bring with him the monsters I destroyed,
• The tyrants I subdued; let these stand forth
• My witnesses, and let my enemies confute them.
• But ask your priest whether his gods condemn me;
• I’ll wait their sentence; not because I fear it,
• But to preserve thy persecuted people.

SCENE IV.

œdipus, jocaste, high priest, araspes, philoctetes, ægina,Attendants,chorus.

œdipus.

• Will heaven at last indulgent to our prayers
• Withdraw its vengeance? By what murderous hand
• Was it offended?

philoctetes.

• Speak, whose blood must flow
• For expiation?

high priest.

• Fatal gift of heaven!
• Unhappy knowledge! to what dangers oft
• Dost thou betray the heart of curious man!
• O would that fate, thus open to my view,
• Had o’er its secrets drawn the eternal veil
• To hide them from my sight!

philoctetes.