Creüsa, Queen of Athens: A tragedy. As it is acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane by His Majesty's servants. Written by Mr. William Whitehead.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- PROLOGUE.

- Persons Represented.

- [dedication]

- Advertisement.

- ACT I. The Vestibule of the Temple.

- ACT II. The Laurel Grove.

- ACT III. The Vestibule of the Temple.

- ACT IV. The Laurel Grove.

- ACT V. The Laurel Grove.

- EPILOGUE.

- A SECOND EPILOGUE.

CRĖU̇SA, Queen of ATHENS. A TRAGEDY.

CREÜSA, Queen of ATHENS.

A TRAGEDY.

As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury-lane By His MAJESTY's Servants.

WRITTEN BY Mr. WILLIAM WHITEHEAD.

LONDON: Printed for R. and J. DODSLEY in Pall-mall; and Sold by M. COOPER in Peter-noster-Row. 1754.

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by Mr. ROSS.

PROLOGUES of old, the Learn'd in Language say,

Were merely Introductions to the Play,

Spoken by Gods, or Ghosts, or Men who knew

Whate'er was previous to the Scenes in view;

And complaisantly came to lay before ye

The several Heads, and Windings of the Story.

But modern Times and British Rules are such,

Our Bards beforehand must not tell too much;

Nor dare we, like the neighb'ring French, admit

Ev'n Confidantes, who might instruct the Pit,

By asking Questions of the leading Few,

And hearing Secrets, which before they knew.

Yet what we can to help this antique Piece

We will attempt.—Our Scene to-night is Greece.

And, by the Magic of the Poet's Rod,

This Stage the Temple of the Delphic God!

Where Kings, and Chiefs, and Sages came of old,

Like modern Fools, to have their Fortunes told;

And Monarchs were enthron'd, or Nations freed,

As an old Priest, or wither'd Maid decreed.

Yet think not all were equally deceiv'd,

Some knew, more doubted, many more believ'd.

In short, these Oracles, and witching Rhimes

Were but the pious Frauds of ancient Times;

Wisely contriv'd to keep Mankind in awe,

When Faith was Wonder, and Religion Law!

Thus much premis'd, to every feeling Breast

We leave the Scenes themselves to tell the rest.

—Yet something sure was to the Critics said,

Which I forget,—some Invocation made!

Ye Critic Bands, like jealous Guardians, plac'd

To watch th' Encroachments on the Realms of Taste,

From you our Author would two Boons obtain,

Not wholly diffident, nor wholly vain:

Two things he asks; 'tis modest sure, from you

Who can do all things, to request but two:

First to his Scenes a kind Attention pay,

Then judge!—with Candor judge—and we obey.

Persons Represented.

- XUTHUS, King of Athens, Mr. BERRY.

- ILYSSUS, an unknown Youth, Attendant on the Temple at Delphi, Miss MACKLIN.

- ALETES, a Grecian Sage, Mr. GARRICK.

- PHORBAS, an old Athenian, Mr. MOSSOP.

- Priests of Apollo.

- Citizens of Athens.

- CRĖU̇SA, Queen of Athens, Mrs. PRITCHARD.

- PYTHIA, Priestess of Apollo, Miss HAUGHTON.

- LYCEA, and other Women attending on the Queen, Mrs. COWPER, &c.

- Virgins belonging to the Temple.

- Guards, &c.

Scene, the Vestibule of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, and the Laurel Grove adjoining.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE GEORGE BUSSY, Lord Visc. VILLIERS, The following TRAGEDY is inscribed by His Lordship's Most obliged and most affectionate humble Servant,

W. WHITEHEAD.

Advertisement.

THE Subject of the following Scenes is so ancient, so slightly mentioned by Historians, and so fabulously treated by Euripides in his Tragedy of Ion, that the Author thought himself at liberty to make the Story his own. Some glaring Circumstances he was obliged to adhere to, which he has endeavoured to render probable.

ACT I. The Vestibule of the Temple.

ILYSSUS and Virgins.

ILYSSUS.

HASTE, haste, ye Virgins; round the Columns twine

Your flowery Chaplets; and with Streams fresh-drawn

Of Castaly, bedew the sacred Porch

Of the great God of Day. Already see

His orient Beam has reach'd the double Top

Of high Parnassus, and begins to shed

A gleamy Lustre o'er the Laurel Grove!

Haste, haste, ye Virgins. From the Vale beneath

I hear the Noise of Chariots, and of Steeds

Which hither bend their Course, for every Sound

Seems nearer than the former.—And behold

A reverend Stranger, who perhaps proclaims

Th' Approach of some great Monarch, to consult

All-seeing Phoebus, or implore his Aid.

Haste, haste, ye Virgins!

Enter PHORBAS.

PHORBAS.

Tell me, gentle Maids,

And thou, fair Youth, who seem'st to lead the Train,

Is this the Temple of the Delphic God?

ILYSSUS.

It is; and on the middle Point of Earth

Its firm Foundations by immortal Hands

Stand fix'd:—but break we off; the folded Gates

Unbar, and lo! the Priestess' self appears!

The Pythia speaks as she descends from the Temple

PYTHIA.

Hence, ye profane! nor with unhallow'd Step

Pollute the Threshold of the Delian King

Who slew the Python!—Say, from whence thou art,

And what thy Business, Stranger.

PHORBAS.

Sacred Maid!

From Athens am I come, the Harbinger

Of great Creusa, mine and Athens' Queen

PYTHIA.

Comes she on pious Purpose, to adore

The mystic Shrine oracular?

PHORBAS.

She does;

And with her comes the Partner of her Bed,

Aeolian Xuthus: he whose powerful Arm

Sav'd Athens from her Fate, and in return

From good Erectheus' bounteous Hand receiv'd

His Daughter and his Crown.— [†] Would he had found

Some other Recompence!

PYTHIA. Overhearing him.

Would he had found?

Old Age is talkative, and I may learn

Somewhat of moment from him.—Wherefore come they?

Does Famine threaten, or wide-wasting Plague

Infest the Land?

PHORBAS.

Thank Heaven, our crouded Streets

Have felt no dire Disease; and Plenty still

Laughs in our blooming Fields. Alas! I fear

The childless Goddess who presides o'er Athens

Has found a surer Method to declare

How ill she brooks that any Stranger Hand

Should wield th' Athenian Scepter.

PYTHIA.

Does from her

The Vengeance come?

PHORBAS

I know not whence it comes,

But this I know, full fifteen Years have roll'd

Since first their Hands were join'd, and roll'd in vain;

For still the Royal Pair in Silence mourn,

Curs'd with a barren Bed. For this they come,

T'explore the latent Cause, and beg of Heav'n

To grant an Heir, or teach them where to fix,

On what selected Head, th' Athenian Crown.

PYTHIA.

And Heaven, no doubt, will hear and grant their Prayer.

Ilssus, haste, and bid the Priests prepare

For Sacrifice. You, Nysa, and your Sisters,

Amid the Laurel Grove with Speed perform

The Morning's due Lustration.

Then hither all return.—Myself mean while Aside.

Will tempt the Vice of Age, and try to draw Aside.

Some useful Secrets from him. Aside.

The good King

Of whom you spake, Erectheus, did his People

Esteem and love him as they ought? for Fame

Talk'd largely of his Worth. He was a King—

PHORBAS.

He was my good old Master, such a King

As Heaven but rarely sends. Did we esteem

And love him, dost thou ask? O, we ador'd him,

He was our Father, not our King.—These Tears

At least may speak my Heart.—We must not hope

In these degenerate Times to see him equall'd.

He never did an unkind Act, but once,

And then he thought the public Good requir'd it;

Tho' much I fear the Evils we lament

From thence derive their Origin.

PYTHIA.

What Act?

What unkind Act?

PHORBAS.

O Maid, 'twere long to tell

The whole unhappy Story, yet in part

Hear what to me appears too closely join'd

With these our present Ills. There was a Youth

Athenian born, but not of Royal Blood,

His Name Nicander; him unlucky Fate

Had made the Lover of our present Queen

While yet a Maid. What will not Love attempt

In young ambitious Minds? he told his Pain,

And won the Fair in secret to admit,

And to return his Passion. The good King

Was for a Time deceiv'd, but found at last

Th' audacious Fraud, and drove the guilty Youth

To Banishment perpetual. Some say

'Twas by his Means he fell, tho' that my Heart

Consents not to believe. Thus much is sure,

Nicander wander'd forth a wretched Exile,

And ere few Days had past, upon the Road

Were found his well-known Garments stain'd with Blood.

Sure Sign of Murder, and as sure a Sign

No needy Robber was the Instrument.

PYTHIA.

How bore Creusa this?

PHORBAS.

At first her Sorrows

Were loud and frantic. Time at length subdued

Her Rage to silent Grief. The good old King,

To sooth her Woes, consented she should raise

A Tomb to her Nicander; and perform

A Kind of annual Rites to parted Love.

PYTHIA.

But that not long continued, for we find

She married Xuthus.

PHORBAS.

'Twas a Match of State,

He sav'd her Country, and she gave her Hand

Because that Country ask'd it. But her Heart

Is buried with Nicander. Still to him,

And Xuthus' self permits it, she performs

Her yearly Oft'rings, and adorns with Flowers

An empty Tomb.—Would he had liv'd, and reign'd

Her wedded Lord! we had not wanted then

Th' Assistance of a Stranger Arm to guard

Th' Athenian State, nor had we then been driven

To search for Heirs at Delphi.

PYTHIA.

Stop thy Tongue,

Or speak with Rev'rence of the sacred Shrine.

—Thy Words were hasty, but thy Silence now

Makes just Atonement for them.—Then perhaps

Thou think'st this want of Heirs a Curse entail'd

By Heaven on Athens for Nicander's Death

And Xuthus' Reign?

PHORBAS.

I am Athenian born,

Nor love Aeolian Kings, however great

And good they may be.

PYTHIA.

The Imperial Xuthus

Is much renown'd.

PHORBAS.

Is virtuous, brave, and pious;

Perhaps too pious.

PYTHIA.

How!

PHORBAS.

Forgive me, Maid,

I speak my Thoughts with Freedom.

PYTHIA.

What thou speak'st

To me, is sacred. Then perchance thou rank'st

His Journey hither to address the God

Among those Acts which thou would'st call too pious?

PHORBAS.

For me the Gods of Athens would suffice.—

Yet do I pay just Rev'rence, holy Maid,

To thee, and to thy Shrine.

PYTHIA.

Thy Zeal for Athens

Is too intemperate.—But the Train returns

And interrupts our Converse. Say, Ilyssus,

Are they prepar'd?

Enter ILYSSUS and Virgins.

ILYSSUS.

They are, and only wait

Th' approaching Victims.

PYTHIA.

By you Train, the Queen

Is now on her Arrival. Thou, Ilyssus,

Receive her here; while I, as Custom wills,

Deep in the Temple's inmost Gloom retire

And wait th' inspiring God.—Ilyssus, hear;

When thou hast paid due Honours to the Queen,

Haste to Aletes, in the Laurel Grove

Impatient I expect him; tell him, Youth,

Things of uncommon Import do demand

His instant Presence.—But the Croud approaches.

Stranger, farewel.—I feel, I feel within

An Heav'n-born Impulse, and the Seeds of Truth

Are lab'ring in my Breast.—Stranger, farewel.

The Pythia returns to the Temple, and the Gates shut.

Enter CREUSA and Attendants.

CREUSA.

No farther need we Conduct. Bid the Guards

Return, and wait the King.

PHORBAS.

Does ought of Moment

Detain him on the Road?

CREUSA.

He stops a while

〈◊〉 great Trophonius' Cave, that he may leave

〈◊〉 Duty unperform'd. Heaven grant his Zeal

May meet with just Success!

ILYSSUS.

Please you, great Queen,

In yon Pavilion to repose, and taste

Some light Refection.

CREUSA.

Ha!—Lycea,—Phorbas,

What Youth is this? There's something in his Eyes,

His Shape, his Voice.—What may we call thee, Youth?

ILYSSUS.

The Servant of the God, who guards this Fane.

CREUSA.

Bear'st thou no Name?

ILYSSUS.

Ilyssus, gracious Queen,

The Priests and Virgins call me.

CREUSA.

Ha! Ilyssus!

That Name's Athenian. Tell me, gentle Youth,

Art thou of Athens then?

ILYSSUS.

I have no Country,

Nor know I whence I am.

CREUSA.

Who where thy Parents?

Thy Father, Mother?

ILYSSUS.

Ever honor'd Queen,

I never knew a Mother's tender Cares▪

Nor heard th' Instructions of a Father's Tongue.

CREUSA.

How cam'st thou hither?

ILYSSUS.

Eighteen Years are past

Since in the Temple's Portal I was found

A sleeping Infant.

CREUSA.

Eighteen Years! good Heaven!

That fatal Time recalls a Scene of Woe—

Let me not think.—Were there no Marks to shew

From whom or whence thou wert?

ILYSSUS.

I have been told

An Osier Basket such as Shepherds weave,

And a few scatter'd Leaves were all the Bed

And Cradle I could boast.

CREUSA.

Unhappy Child!

But more, O ten times more unhappy they

Who lost perhaps in thee their only Offspring!

What Pangs, what Anguish must the Mother feel,

Compell'd, no doubt, by some disastrous Fate—

—But this is all Conjecture.—

ILYSSUS.

O great Queen,

Had those from whom I sprung been form'd like thee;

Had they e'er felt the secret Pangs of Nature,

They had not left me to the desart World

So totally expos'd. I rather fear

I am the Child of Lowliness and Vice,

And happy only in my Ignorance.

—Why should she weep? O if her Tears can fall

For even a Stranger's but suspected Woes,

How is that People blest where she presides

As Mother, and as Queen!—Please you, retire?

CREUSA.

No, stay. Thy Sentiments at least bespeak

A gen'rous Education. Tell me, Youth,

How has thy Mind been form'd?

ILYSSUS.

In that, great Queen,

I never wanted Parents. The good Priests

And pious Priestess, who with Care sustain'd

My helpless Infancy, left not my Youth

Without Instruction. But O, more than all,

The kindest, best good Man, a neighb'ring Sage

Who has known better Days, tho' now retir'd

To a small Cottage on the Mountain's Brow,

He deals his Blessings to the simple Swains

In Balms and powerful Herbs. He taught me Things

Which my Soul treasures as its dearest Wealth,

And will remember ever. The good Priests,

'Tis true, had taught the same, but not with half

That Force and Energy; Conviction's self

Dwelt on Aletes' Tongue.

CREUSA.

Aletes, said'st thou?

Was that the good Man's Name?

ILYSSUS.

It is, great Queen,

For yet he lives, and guides me by his Counsels.

CREUSA.

What did he teach thee?

ILYSSUS.

To adore high Heaven,

And venerate on Earth Heaven's Image, Truth!

To feel for others Woes, and bear my own

With manly Resignation. — Yet I own

Some things he taught me which but ill agree

With my Condition here.

CREUSA.

What things were those?

ILYSSUS.

They were for Exercise, and to confirm

My growing Strength. And yet I often told him

The Exercise he taught resembled much

What I had heard of War. He was himself

A Warrior once.

CREUSA.

And did those Sports delight thee!

ILYSSUS.

Great Queen, I do confess my Soul mix'd with them.

Whene'er I grasp'd the Osier-platted Shield,

Or sent the mimic Javelin to its Mark,

I felt I know not what of Manhood in me.

But then I knew my Duty, and repress'd

The swelling Ardor. 'Tis to Shades, I cried,

The Servant of the Temple must confine

His less ambitious, not less virtuous Cares.

CREUSA.

Did the good Man observe, and blame thy Ardor?

ILYSSUS.

He only smil'd at my too forward Zeal;

Nay seem'd to think such Sports were necessary

To soften what he call'd more rig'rous Studies.

CREUSA,

—Why should she weep? O if her Tears can fall

For even a Stranger's but suspected Woes,

How is that People blest where she presides

As Mother, and as Queen!—Please you, retire?

CREUSA.

No, stay. Thy Sentiments at least bespeak

A gen'rous Education. Tell me, Youth,

How has thy Mind been form'd?

ILYSSUS.

In that, great Queen,

I never wanted Parents. The good Priests

And pious Priestess, who with Care sustain'd

My helpless Infancy, left not my Youth

Without Instruction. But O, more than all,

The kindest, best good Man, a neighb'ring Sage

Who has known better Days, tho' now retir'd

To a small Cottage on the Mountain's Brow,

He deals his Blessings to the simple Swains

In Balms and powerful Herbs. He taught me Things

Which my Soul treasures as its dearest Wealth,

And will remember ever. The good Priests,

'Tis true, had taught the same, but not with half

That Force and Energy; Conviction's self

Dwelt on Aletes' Tongue.

CREUSA.

Aletes, said'st thou?

Was that the good Man's Name?

ILYSSUS.

It is, great Queen,

For yet he lives, and guides me by his Counsels.

CREUSA.

What did he teach thee?

ILYSSUS.

To adore high Heaven,

And venerate on Earth Heaven's Image, Truth!

To feel for others Woes, and bear my own

With manly Resignation. — Yet I own

Some things he taught me which but ill agree

With my Condition here.

CREUSA.

What things were those?

ILYSSUS.

They were for Exercise, and to confirm

My growing Strength. And yet I often told him

The Exercise he taught resembled much

What I had heard of War. He was himself

A Warrior once.

CREUSA.

And did those Sports delight thee!

ILYSSUS.

Great Queen, I do confess my Soul mix'd with them.

Whene'er I grasp'd the Osier-platted Shield,

Or sent the mimic Javelin to its Mark,

I felt I know not what of Manhood in me.

But then I knew my Duty, and repress'd

The swelling Ardor. 'Tis to Shades, I cried,

The Servant of the Temple must confine

His less ambitious, not less virtuous Cares.

CREUSA.

Did the good Man observe, and blame thy Ardor?

ILYSSUS.

He only smil'd at my too forward Zeal;

Nay seem'd to think such Sports were necessary

To soften what he call'd more rig'rous Studies.

CREUSA.

—Suppose when I return to Athens, Youth,

Thou should'st attend me thither! would'st thou trust

To me thy future Fortunes?

ILYSSUS.

O most gladly!

—But then to leave these Shades where I was nurs'd

The Servant of the God, how might that seem?

And good Aletes too, the kind old Man

Of whom I spake? — But wherefore talk I thus,

You only throw these tempting Lures to try

Th' Ambition of my Youth. — Please you, retire.

CREUSA.

Ilyssus, we will find a time to speak

More largely on this Subject, for the present

Let all withdraw and leave us. Youth, farewel,

I see the Place, and will retire at leisure.

Lycea, Phorbas, stay.

ILYSSUS. Aside.

How my Heart beats!

She must mean something sure. Tho' good Aletes

Has told me polished Courts abound in Falshood.

But I will bear the Priestess' Message to him,

And open all my Doubts.

Exit.

PHORBAS.

Great Queen, why stand'st thou silent? something seems

To labour in thy Breast.

CREUSA.

Alas! good Phorbas,

Didst thou observe that Youth? When first my Eye

Glanc'd on his beauteous Form, methought I saw

The Person of Nicander.

PHORBAS.

Gracious Queen,

Your Heart misleads your Eyes. The Image there

Too deeply six'd makes every pleasing Object

Bear some Resemblance to itself.

CREUSA.

Lycea,

And yet, tho' thou wast there I well believe

Thy Youth can scarce remember how he look'd,

When from the Fight triumphant he return'd

Grac'd with the victor Laurel; such a Wreath

As now Ilyssus wears. Indeed, Lycea,

Thy Mother, had she liv'd, had thought as I do.

Nay when he spake the Voice too was Nicander's.

I know not what to think, perhaps 'twas Fancy,

Perhaps 'twas something more.

PHORBAS.

Illustrious Queen,

You do abuse your noble Mind, and lend

To mere illusions of the Brain, the Force

And Power to make you wretched. Grant there were

Some slight Resemblance of Nicander's Form

In young Ilyssus, tho' my Eyes perceive not

Even the most distant Likeness, grant there were,

Yet wherefore should the Sight so nearly touch thee,

Casual Similitude, we know too well

Nicander left no Heir.

She seems disturbed.

I say not this,

Great Queen, to heighten but relieve your Sorrows,

And banish from your Breast each vain Surmise

Which Fancy might suggest.

CREUSA.

Too well indeed,

O Phorbas, much too well indeed we know

Nicander left no Heir to his Perfections,

No Image of himself.—And yet, good Phorbas,

Blame not my Folly, nor demand a Reason

If I intreat thee to examine strictly

The Fortunes of this young Unknown. The Priests

Or Priestess may know more than they entrust

To his unwary Youth. The Sage he spake of,

Could'st thou not search him out; 'tis somewhere near

He dwells, I think, upon the Mountain's Brow.

Thou wonder'st at me, call it if thou please

A Woman's Weakness; but obey me, Phorbas.

PHORBAS.

You say I wonder, 'tis indeed to see

My honor'd Queen employ her Thoughts thus idly

On Griefs long past; when things of dear Concern

To her and Athens should alarm her nearly.

CREUSA.

What things of near Concern?

PHORBAS.

See'st thou not, Queen,

Thy Crown, Erectheus' Crown, the Crown of Athens,

Wav'ring in Fortune's Power?

CREUSA.

The Gods will fix it.

PHORBAS.

The Gods? Ah, great Creusa, may my Fears

Be vain and groundless; but I fear the Gods

Have left us to ourselves. When we resign'd

Th' Athenian Scepter to a Stranger Hand

We did reject their Guidance. Wherefore come we

To Delphi now, but that th' offended Gods

Have turn'd too long an inattentive Ear

To our ill-judg'd Petitions.

CREUSA.

Why ill-judg'd?

We ask'd for Heirs.

PHORBAS.

We did; for Xuthus' Heirs,

The Race of Aeolus.—I know, great Queen,

They were to spring from thee; but Heaven permits not

The native Pureness of th' Athenian Soil

Should mix with foreign Clay. I wish we find not

More alien Kings at Delphi.

CREUSA.

Think'st thou Xuthus

Deceives us then? His Worth, his Piety,

Forbid the Thought. Besides, the sacred Place

Admits not of Deceit.

PHORBAS.

Credulity

Is not the Vice of Age. Forgive me, Queen,

If I suspect that Piety which brings us

To search for Kings at Delphi. Might not Athens

Have chosen her own Monarch? Her brave Youth,

Her bearded Sages, are they not the Flower

And Pride of Greece? Nay, might'st not thou, Creusa,

With liberal Hand bestow th' Imperial Wreath?

And who has better Right?

CREUSA.

The Gods, who gave it

To me, and my great Ancestors.

PHORBAS.

Whate'er

The Gods bestow can never be resum'd

Tho' we repent. The pious Populace

Will rev'rence Kings from Heaven.

CREUSA.

And wherefore not?

PHORBAS.

O Queen, perhaps my Fears are too officious,

But let thy Servant beg—

CREUSA.

I know thy Zeal

For me, and for thy Country. Rest assur'd,

Creusa never will consent to ought

Which can endanger Athens.

PHORBAS.

My Heart thanks thee!

CREUSA.

Mean while the Youth Ilyssus—

PHORBAS.

Should the King

Confirm'd by Oracles presume to fix

A Stranger on the Throne.—

CREUSA.

He will not do it.

PHORBAS.

I hope he will not, yet—

CREUSA.

The Youth I spake of,

Wilt thou enquire?—

PHORBAS.

Should Xuthus lay aside

His usual Mildness, and assume at once

The Monarch and the Husband, could'st thou then —

CREUSA.

In Athens' Cause I could resist them all.

But cease these vain Suspicions. A few Hours

Will prove thy Fears were groundless. Meanwhile, Phorbas

Thou wilt find Methods to inform thyself

Touching this unknown Youth.

PHORBAS.

By yonder Guards

The King should be at hand.

CREUSA.

I will retire

To the Pavilion, and expect him there.

Yet hear me, Phorbas; let not Xuthus know

Why thou enquir'st.

PHORBAS.

Xuthus has other Cares.

CREUSA.

The Priestess too, I would confer with her.

Tho' that Lycea may perform. Farewel,

And prosper in thy Task. — Alas, Lycea,

Exit Phorbas.

There is a Secret labours in my Breast,

But Fate forbids that I should give it Utterance.

This boding Heart was early taught to feel

Too sensibly; each distant Doubt alarms it;

It starts at Shadows.—But retire we, Maid,

Grief is th' unhappy Charter of our Sex;

The Gods who gave us readier Tears to shed

Gave us more Cause to shed them.

Exeunt.

The End of the First ACT.

Notes

†
Half aside.
↵

ACT II. The Laurel Grove.

ALETES and ILYSSUS.

ALETES.

SEEM'D she disturb'd when she beheld thee?

ILYSSUS.

Much;

And when I gave her the slight Hints I knew

Relating to my Fortunes, she dissolv'd

In silent Tears: such soft Humanity

Sure never dwelt in any Breast but hers.

Nor did I think till now that I had Cause

Of Discontent; but since she wept my Fate,

I seem to find a Reason in her Grief,

And feel myself unhappy.

ALETES.

Why unhappy?

ILYSSUS.

I know not why; and yet to be confin'd

Thus to a single Spot; to draw in Air,

To take in Nourishment, to live, to die,

For this was Man design'd? Ah, good Aletes,

Sure thou hast taught me, Godlike Man was made

For nobler Purposes of general Good;

For Action, not for Rest.—The Queen propos'd

I should attend her to th' Athenian State;

Would'st thou advise it? Do'st thou think, Aletes,

She meant I should attend her?

ALETES.

Doubtless, Youth,

If she propos'd, she meant it.

ILYSSUS.

And would'st thou

Advise I should attend her?

ALETES.

Wherefore not?

ILYSSUS.

May I desert these Shades? or can I leave

Thee, thee, my good Aletes?

ALETES.

O Ilyssus,

Strive not to hide thy Heart; from me thou can'st not;

I form'd it, and I know it. Delphi's Shades

Have now no Peace for thee, thy Bosom feels

Ambition's active, unrelenting Fires.

Thou wishest, and thou hop'st, thou know'st not what.

'Tis Glory thou would'st have: Go then, brave Youth,

Where Virtue calls thee: be the Means but noble

Thou can'st not soar too high.

ILYSSUS.

My more than Father!

Thy Words inspire me, and I feel a Warmth

Unknown before.—But then, my Birth—

ALETES.

Thy Birth?

Did I not early teach thee to despise

A casual Good? Thou art thyself, Ilyssus.

Inform me, Youth, would'st thou be what thou art,

Thus fair, thus brave, thus sensibly alive

To Glory's finest Feel; or give up all,

To be descended from a Line of Kings,

The tenth perhaps from Jove?—I see thy Cheek

Glows a repentant Blush.—Our greatest Heroes,

Those Gods on Earth, those Friends of Human kind,

Whose great Examples I would set before thee,

Were once unknown like thee. And yet, if Birth

Concern thee, know, prophetic is my Speech,

Thy Fate is now at work, and a few Hours

May show thee what thou art.—My Words alarm thee.

ILYSSUS.

They do indeed. O tell me—

ALETES.

'Tis in vain

Thou would'st enquire from me, what Heaven conceals

Till its fit Time. Didst thou not say, Ilyssus,

Thy Pythia would be here?

ILYSSUS.

She comes.

ALETES.

Retire

And leave us to ourselves.

ILYSSUS.

I will.—And yet

Might I not know—

ALETES.

From me thou can'st know nothing.

ILYSSUS.

A few Hours, said you?

ALETES.

Hence, and beg of Heaven

To prosper the Event. Retire and leave us.

Exit Ilyssus.

Enter PYTHIA.

PYTHIA.

Now good Aletes, if thy pregnant Mind,

Deep judging of Events, has ever fram'd

Such artful Truths as won believing Man

To think them born of Heaven, and made my Name

Renown'd in Greece, O now exert thy Power.

No common Cause demands it. Kings and States

Are our Solicitors, and Athens' Fate

Hangs on my Lips.

ALETES.

I know it well. And now

If, as thou say'st, my secret kind Advice,

And worn Experience in the Ways of Men,

Have gain'd thy Altars Credit, and with Gifts

Loaded thy Shrines, now, by one grateful Act

Thou may'st repay me all.

PYTHIA.

What Act? O speak,

And gladly I obey.

ALETES.

An Act, my PYTHIA,

Which tho' at first it may seem bold and dangerous,

Shall in the End add Lustre to thy Shades,

And make ev'n Kings Protectors of thy Fane.

—O Pythia, 'twas the Hand of Heaven itself

Which brought these Royal Suppliants to thy Shrine.

I could unfold a Tale.—But let it rest.

Thou shalt ere Night know all, and bless with me

Th' indulgent Powers above. Only in this

Obey me blindly, Pythia.

PYTHIA.

Say in what.

ALETES.

Declare Ilyssus Heir to Athens' Crown.

PYTHIA.

Ilyssus Heir? what mean'st thou? 'tis a Fraud

Too palpable.

ALETES.

I knew 'twould startle thee.

But 'tis because thou know'st the Fraud, my Pythia,

That it alarms thee. Didst thou really think

This Youth were Heir to the Athenian Crown,

Would'st thou not seize the happy Gift of Chance

And to the World proclaim it?

PYTHIA.

True, I should;

And bless my Fate that in these sacred Shades

I had nurs'd up unknowingly a King

For my Protector. But what then might seem

The Consequence, now seems the Cause, Aletes;

Will they not say I made the King, to gain

The kind Protector?

ALETES.

So to thee it seems;

But who will say it? the believing many

Will bow with Rev'rence and implicit Faith

To what thy Shrine ordains; and for the few

Who may suspect the Cheat, true Policy

Will keep them silent: should they dare detect

A Fraud like this, and spurn at Right divine,

Where were their Power? The many-headed Beast

Would feel the slacken'd Rein, and from his Back

Shake off the lordly Rider. Nay should Athens

Be blind to her own Good, the States of Greece,

Thou know'st it well, would arm in thy Defence,

And force her to receive the King thou gav'st her.

His Form, his unknown Birth, his winning Softness,

His Education here in Heaven's own Eye,

All plead in his behalf. And, as he tells me,

The Queen already with unusual Marks

Of Favour has beheld him. For the King,

A pious Awe and Rev'rence for the Gods

Is his distinguish'd Attribute. Thou seem'st

To weigh my Words. To clear thy Doubts at once,

Know many Days have past since first I knew

Of their Approach. Thou think'st I should have told thee,

It needed not. I have myself prepar'd

Each previous Circumstance, and found due means

To forward the Event. Thy Part is easy;

Behold the Oracle.

PYTHIA reads.

"A banish'd Youth is Athens' Cause of Woe."

How know'st thou that?

Looking earnestly at him.

ALETES.

Demand not, but read on.

PYTHIA reads.

"For that Youth banish'd, Athens must receive

"Another Youth; and on the young Unknown

"Who 'tends my Shrine, and whom I call my Son,

"Bestow th' Imperial Wreath." The God declare•

"No more."

ALETES.

Thou seem'st amaz'd.

PYTHIA.

I am indeed,

To find thee thus instructed on a Theme

I came prepar'd to mention. The Queen's Passion,

Her Lover banish'd—

ALETES.

What thou seest I know

May tell thee I know more But say, from whence

Thou gained'st thy Intelligence?

PYTHIA.

From one

Whose Zeal may thwart thy Schemes: a warm old Man,

And firm in Athens' Cause, who came to-day

Before the rest, and led by my Enquiries

Gave me those Hints on which I thought to build

Prophetic, doubtful Answers. But I find

My best Instructor here.

ALETES.

Perhaps thou do'st.

Of this rest well assur'd, I ne'er had ask'd

Of Pythia ought but what I knew with Safety

She might comply with.

PYTHIA.

Tell me what thou know'st.

ALETES.

Not yet; 'tis better thou remain in Ignorance

Till all be finish'd. But pronounce the Oracle,

And leave the rest to me. Do'st thou distrust me?

PYTHIA.

I do not.—Yet if on slight Hints alone

Thou form'st this weighty Fraud, consider well

What may or may not follow.—By thy Looks

There should be something hid.—Thy coming hither

Was much upon the Time we found this Child.

And since, with what almost paternal Care

Thou hast instructed him. Tho' that indeed

Might spring from thy Benevolence of Heart,

Which I have known is boundless. Say, Aletes,

What should I think? Thou smil'st.

ALETES.

Wilt thou obey me?

PYTHIA.

I must; and yet if 'tis a Fraud, Aletes,

The warm old Man of whom I spake detests

A Stranger King. Ev'n Xuthus' self, whose Worth

He doth acknowledge great, he views with Pain

Upon th' Athenian Throne.

ALETES.

I know him well;

'Tis Phorbas. Do not wonder at my Words,

But find a Means that I may see the Queen

In secret, unobserv'd by prying Eyes,

And all that old Man's Fears, and Rage shall vanish.

He shall with Joy receive a Stranger King.

Wilt thou devise the Means?

PYTHIA.

I now begin

To hope indeed. There is some Secret hid

Of most important Weight. But does the Queen—

ALETES.

I will not answer thee; my Time's too precious.

Only devise some Means that I may see her

Quite unobserv'd by all.

PYTHIA.

You cannot see her

Till all be past. Will that suffice?

ALETES.

It will.

PYTHIA.

Here in the Laurel Grove.

ALETES.

No Place more fit.

But O be careful, Pythia, that the King

Observe us not; for 'tis of mighty Moment

He should believe this substituted Youth

Of Race Aeolian. To which End, my Pythia,

I have among the Priests these few Days past,

When they suspected not th' Approach of Xuthus,

Dropp'd doubtful Hints as if I had discover'd

Some antique Marks amid the Osier Twigs

Which form'd Ilyssus' Cradle, that denote

He sprang from Aeolus: And at the Cave

Of great Trophonius have I ta'en due Care

Such Answers should be given as would induce

One of less Faith than Xuthus to expect

An Heir of his own Family.

PYTHIA.

The Boy,

Knows he of thy Intentions?

ALETES.

No, nor must

Till ripening Time permit. His Fate depends

Upon his Ignorance.—Soft, who comes here?

PYTHIA.

It is the warm old Man, and, as I think,

Some fair Attendant of the Queen. Retire.

I would know more, but—Wherefore do'st thou gaze

So ardently upon them?

ALETES.

Hence, away,

We must not now be seen.

Exeunt Pythia and Aletes.

Enter LYCEA and PHORBAS.

LYCEA.

This Place seems quite retir'd. Here if thou wait

I will inform the Queen, and her Impatience

Will bring her on the Instant. Surely, Phorbas,

Something mysterious lurks beneath her Tears;

Her strange Anxieties. Since thou wer't absent

This unknown Youth alone has fill'd her Thoughts,

Of him alone she talks, recounts his Words,

Describes his Looks, his Gestures; loves to dwell

On each Particular. Ere thou wer't gone

She wish'd and even expected thy Return;

Dispatch'd me often, tho' she knew 'twas vain,

To watch for thy Arrival. When the King

Approach'd, she smooth'd her Brow, as if to hide

The Strugglings of her Mind; nay seem'd afraid

He should suspect her Sorrows.

PHORBAS.

Then to him

She mention'd not this Youth?

LYCEA.

Her Conduct there

Was most mysterious. With a Voice of Fear,

She slightly dropp'd that she had seen a Youth

Whom she could wish to bear with her to Athens.

The King consented, and with Smiles propos'd

They should adopt him.

PHORBAS.

Ha! adopt him, said'st thou?

LYCEA.

In Sport he spake, but at his Words a Glow

Of sudden Joy spread o'er her Face, her Tongue

Forgot Restraint, and in his Praise grew lavish:

Then stopp'd again, and hesitating strove

To check its Zeal, as fearful to betray

Some hidden Transport.

PHORBAS.

Whatsoe'er it be,

I soon shall damp her Joy. This Youth, Lycea,

Must not to Athens.—But behold, the Queen.

LYCEA.

O how impatient! ere I could return

To tell her thou wer't here, she comes herself,

Eager to learn thy Tidings.

Enter CREUSA.

CREUSA.

Now, my Phorbas,

Say what thou know'st at once. The King already

Consents he should attend us.

PHORBAS.

Never, never

Shall Athens see that Youth.

CREUSA:

What mean'st thou, Phorbas?

PHORBAS.

Too much already of Aeolian Blood

Has hapless Athens known.

CREUSA.

Aeolian Blood!

PHORBAS.

The King consents! I doubt not his Consent.

—Yes, 'twas my Word, great Queen, Aeolian Blood;

This Youth descends from Aeolus.

CREUSA.

Be dumb,

Or bring me better Tidings.

PHORBAS,

Worse I cannot,

But what I speak is Truth.

CREUSA.

Peace, Monster, Peace!

Thou know'st not Truth. 'Tis thy affected Zeal

For Athens, for thy Country, that suggests

This horrid Falshood; 'tis thy Hate of Xuthus.

PHORBAS.

What means my Queen? or how have I deserv'd

Such harsh Expressions? Does my honest Love

For Athens, and Creusa, subject me

To such unkind Suspicions?

CREUSA.

Gracious Gods!

It cannot be.—Alas, forgive me, Phorbas,

I know not what I say, thy Words strike thro' me,

They pierce my very Soul. O I had hop'd—

But tell me all, tho' I believe thee honest,

Thy Zeal for Athens, and for me, may make thee

Too hasty of Belief. Why art thou silent?

PHORBAS.

Amazement stops my Tongue, these Starts of Passion,

This Violence of Grief, must have a Cause.

CREUSA.

Perhaps they have, perhaps to thee, good Phorbas,

This bursting Heart may open all its Sorrows.

But tell me first, what are thy Proofs? from whence

Gain'dst thou this curs'd Intelligence?

PHORBAS.

O Queen,

Thy Looks, thy Words—I know not how to answer.

Yet if there be Offence in what I speak,

My Ignorance offends, not I offend.

Know then, Creusa, from the Priests who 'tend

This Delphic Shrine, by your Command I learnt

My first Intelligence.

CREUSA.

And did they say

This Youth was of Aeolian Race?

PHORBAS.

They did.

At least their Words imported little less.

They judg'd me Xuthus' Friend, not Enemy,

As would thy Rage suggest, and as a Friend

Dropp'd Hints they thought would please me.

CREUSA.

Then, perhaps,

It was not Truth they spake, they but deceiv'd

Thy Ear with well-judg'd Flattery.

PHORBAS.

What follow'd

Confirm'd it Truth. Has the King mention'd to thee

What Promises were given him at the Shrine

Of sage Trophonius?

CREUSA.

General Promises

Of sure Success, no more.

PHORBAS.

Know then, great Queen,

As I return'd from Converse with the Priests,

I met his Friend and Bosom Fav'rite Lycon.

Joy sparkled in his Eyes, and his vain Tongue

O'erflow'd with Transport. I observ'd it well,

And gave the Torrent Passage, nay with Art

Ev'n led it blindly forward. Till at length

He open'd his whole Soul, and under Seal

Of firmest Secrecy told me the King

Would find an Heir at Delphi, such an Heir

As would rejoice the unapparent Shades

Of his great Ancestors. At that I started.

He found his Error then, and told me, glozing,

That great Trophonius had almost proclaim'd,

Tho' not expressly, Xuthus here should find

An Heir of his own Race.

CREUSA.

Of his own Race?

PHORBAS.

So said he; whether great Trophonius spake

This Oracle, I know not; but I know

Too well whose Oracle to me declar'd it.

CREUSA.

Think'st thou this Youth—

PHORBAS.

Grant it were only done

To try my Zeal, why should they try it now,

Unless some close Design requir'd that Trial?

Yes, mighty Queen, I do believe this Youth

Is our intended King. But, by yon Heaven,

If it be he, or any other He

Of Xuthus' Race, he shall not reign in Athens.

This Poinard first shall drink his Blood.

CREUSA.

Forbear!

That Thought distracts me.—Tho' perhaps 'tis just.

—O Phorbas, 'twas my Hope, my Wish, my Prayer

That Youth might reign in Athens. But thy Words

Strike deadly Damps like baleful Aconite,

And poison all within.

PHORBAS.

What means my Queen?

CREUSA.

O Phorbas, O Lycea—but first swear

By Nemesis and the tremendous Powers

Who punish broken Faith, no Word, no Hint

Shall'scape your Lips of all your Queen declares.

BOTH.

We swear!

CREUSA.

Know then, O Pain to Memory!

I had a Son.

PHORBAS.

A Son!

LYCEA.

Good Heaven!

PHORBAS.

A Son!

CREUSA.

O my full Heart! Thy Mother, my Lycea,

Knew all the fatal Process of my Woes,

And was their only Solace. Phorbas, yes,

I had a Son, but witness every God

Whose genial Power presides o'er nuptial Leagues,

Nicander was my wedded Lord. That Night,

That fatal Night which drove him forth from Athens,

Forc'd from my swelling Womb, ere yet mature,

Its precious Burthen. To thy Mother's Cares

I ow'd my Life. In secret she assuag'd

My piercing Pangs, and to Nicander's Arms

In secret she convey'd the wretched Infant.

What follow'd well thou know'st. Nicander fell,

And with him doubtless fell the dear, dear Charge,

Consign'd to his Protection. Yet, good Phorbas,

When I beheld this Youth, his Looks, his Voice,

His Age, his unknown Birth, all, all conspir'd

To cheat me into Hopes. Alas, how fallen!

How blasted all!

PHORBAS.

Great Queen, my Tears confess,

An old Man's Tears, which rarely fall, confess

How much I share your Anguish. Had I known

Nicander was your Lord, by Earth and Heaven,

I would have rais'd all Athens in his Cause,;

Nay, been a Rebel to the best of Masters,

Ere the dear Pledge of your unspotted Loves

Should thus have fallen untimely. Now, alas,

I have not ev'n one flattering Hope to give thee.

Till now I oft have wonder'd why so far

Their Rage pursued Nicander. 'Tis too plain,

They knew the precious Burthen which he bore,

And for the hapless Child the Father died.

CREUSA.

O God! I feel the Truth of what thou utter'st,

And my Heart dies within me. O Lycea,

Who, who would be a Mother!

PHORBAS.

Be a Queen,

And turn thy Grief to Rage. Shall Aliens sport

With thy Misfortunes? Shall insulting Spoilers

Smile o'er the Ruins of thy hapless State,

While all the golden Harvest is their own?

Shall Xuthus triumph? shall his Race succeed?

While thine, I mean not to provoke thy Tears,

Thy tender Blossoms are torn rudely off

Almost or ere they bloom.

CREUSA.

It shall not be,

No, ye immortal Powers!— Yet let us wait

Till the dire Truth glare on us. One short Hour

And Doubt shall be no more. Then, Phorbas, then

Should he presume to place on Athens' Throne

His alien Race, nay tho' this beauteous Youth,

This dear Resemblance of my murder'd Lord,

Should be the fatal Choice, by that dear Shade,

Which perish'd as it reach'd the Gates of Life,

I will, I think I will, assist thy Vengeance.

—Soft, who comes here? 'Tis he! how innocent!

How winning soft he looks! Whate'er it be,

He knows not the Deceit. Look on him, Phorbas;

Nay, thou shalt question him.

PHORBAS.

Not I. Great Queen,

Resume yourself, nor let this fond Persuasion

Betray you to a Weakness you should blush at.

CREUSA.

If possible I will.

Enter ILYSSUS.

ILYSSUS.

Illustrious Queen,

The Altar stands prepar'd, and all Things wait

Your Royal Presence: From the King I come,

His Messenger.

CREUSA.

We will attend his Pleasure.

Be near me, Phorbas; I may want thy Counsel.

ILYSSUS.

She looks not on me sure as she was wont.

I'll speak to her. Permit me, gracious Queen,

To pay my humblest Thanks, for by your means

The King is kind as you are.

CREUSA.

Rise, Ilyssus.

Perhaps you needed there no Advocate.

Phorbas, lead on. My Resolution melts,

And all my Sex returns. One Look from him

Outweighs a thousand Proofs. Phorbas, lead on,

Or I am lost in Weakness.

Exeunt Creusa and Phorbas.

ILYSSUS, stopping Lycea.

Gentle Maid,

Stay yet a Moment. Wherefore does the Queen

Look coldly on me? Know'st thou if in ought

I have offended?

LYCEA.

Things of mightiest Import

At present fill her Mind, nor leave they room

For less Affairs. My Duty calls me hence.

Exit.

ILYSSUS.

I hope it is no more; yet each Appearance

Alarms me now. Aletes, thou hast rais'd

Such Conflicts here, such Hopes, such Fears, such Doubts,

That Apprehension sinks beneath their Weight.

Well might'st thou say these solitary Shades

Have now no Peace for me. Yet once thou taught'st me,

That the pure Mind was its own Source of Peace.

But that Philosophy I find belongs

To private Life, for where Ambition enters

I feel it is not true.

Exit.

The End of the Second ACT.

ACT III. The Vestibule of the Temple.

ALETES alone.

WHY should I doubt? it will, it must succeed.

Yet I could wish that I had seen Creusa

Before 'twas undertaken, for perhaps—

'Tis better as it is. Her Part had then

Been difficult to act; now what she does,

Assisting or opposing the Design,

Will all seem natural.—The Pythia sure

Will act as I directed.—Hark, the Rites

Should be ere this perform'd; why stay they then?

—That Noise proclaims them finish'd, and the Croud

Will soon be here.—They come, I must not yet

Be seen; the Pythia in the Laurel Grove

May tell me what has pass'd.

Exit.

CREUSA descends hastily from the Temple in great Disorder, LYCEA following.

LYCEA.

Stay, mighty Queen,

You know not what you do; your Rage transports you;

You leave the Rites unfinish'd, and the Croud

In wild Amazement gaze on your Departure.

CREUSA.

I will not stay, nor will I tamely bear

My disappointed Hopes. O honest Phorbas,

O good old Man, thy penetrating Mind

Saw early their Designs. 'Tis to supply

Nicander's Loss (O ne'er to be supply'd!)

That we must call in Strangers to the Throne,

And yield our Scepters to Aeolian Hands.

—Yes, ye great Shades of my Progenitors,

I hear ye call, ye shall, ye shall have Vengeance!

LYCEA.

Whatever you design, conceal at least

This Transport of your Rage.

CREUSA.

Why loiters Phorbas?

He saw my Anguish, wherefore comes he not

To its Relief? They fool me past Endurance.

Rely they on the Weakness of my Sex?

Lycea, they shall find this feeble Arm

In such a Cause can lay the Distaff by,

And grasp th' unerring Thunderbolt of Jove.

O Phorbas, art thou come?

Enter PHORBAS from the Temple.

PHORBAS.

Now, mighty Queen,

Are my Suspicions just? is Phorbas honest?

CREUSA.

As Light, as Truth itself. My Counsellor,

My Bosom Friend!

PHORBAS.

Now shall a casual Likeness,

If such there be, a semblant Cast of Features,

The Sport of Nature in a human Form,

Shall Trisles light as these weigh down Conviction?

O Queen, from first to last th' apparent Scheme

Glares on us now. Why were we brought to Delphi,

But that this Youth has long been nurtur'd here

In secret from the World; perhaps the Son

Of Xuthus' self, plac'd here at first to hide

The Guilt and Shame of some dishonest Mother,

Tho' now applied to more pernicious Ends.

CREUSA.

It may be so.

PHORBAS.

And why, say why, to-day,

While Xuthus stays behind for Oracles

He wanted not, is young Ilyssus bid

To meet your Eyes, and win with artful Tales

Your easy Heart?

CREUSA.

Bid! was he bid to do it?

PHORBAS.

I saw the Priestess whisper something to him,

Then loud she bade him wait for thy Approach.

She must, forsooth, retire to sacred Glooms,

And wait for Inspiration. Xuthus' Gold

Was what inspir'd the Traitress. Yet, good Heaven,

When from the Shrine she gave the fraudful Words,

With what strange Art the holy Hypocrite

In mimic Trances died!—"A banish'd Youth

"Is Athens' Cause of Woe." Too truly said,

Tho' for a wicked Purpose, to allure

Thy easy Faith, and lead thee to admit

The Fraud which follow'd.

CREUSA.

Never, never, Phorbas,

Will I that Fraud admit. How readily

Did Xuthus, when my foolish Fondness ask'd it,

Consent to my Request!
To Lycoa.

Thou heard'st him say

We should adopt this Youth; in seeming Sport

He spake it, but ev'n then th' insulting Tyrant

Couch'd fatal Truths beneath th' ambiguous Phrase.

PHORBAS.

Why should a Youth design'd for Solitude

Be taught the Arts of War? He saw himself

The Impropriety. Who is this Sage

That has instructed him? And why should Lycon

O'erflow with sudden Joy, but that he found,

From thy apparent Fondness for the Boy,

Their Schemes grew practicable. Nay, to-day,

When to the Priestess' self my honest Love

For Athens, and Dislike of Stranger Kings,

Burst freely forth, she chid my hasty Zeal,

Commended Xuthus, talk'd of Piety

And Rev'rence to the Gods: 'Twas to their Priests

She meant, their meddling Priests, who dare presume

To sport with Thrones, to sell their Gods for Gold,

And stamp rank Falshoods with the Seal of Heaven.

LYCEA.

Forbear, you are too loud so near the Temple;

Xuthus himself will hear.

CREUSA.

We would be heard.

Instruct me, Phorbas, by what means to crush

This impious Combination.

PHORBAS.

Athens yet

Has honest Hearts. Yes, Phorbas yet has Friends

Who dare be Patriots, and prefer their Country

To Xuthus' kindest Smile. Some such are here

Ev'n now at Delphi. But, illustrious Queen,

We must with Caution act. The Name of Heaven,

Howe'er usurp'd, adds Vigour to their Cause,

And weakens ours. We might in secret find

A sure Revenge.

CREUSA.

What?

PHORBAS.

Death.

CREUSA.

Of Xuthus?

PHORBAS.

His

Might follow, but the more immediate Cause

Should earliest be remov'd, the Boy.

CREUSA.

The Boy!

Why should he die? Believe me, honest Phorbas,

He knows not of the Fraud. His every Look

Proclaims his Innocence. If impious Men

Make him their Instrument of evil Deeds,

Can he be blam'd? Bred up in Shades, poor Youth,

He never knew the Arts of base Mankind,

Nor should he share their Punishment.

PHORBAS.

O Queen,

They have too well succeeded. This fond Passion,

Which their insidious Cunning first inspir'd,

Clings close about your Heart, and may at last

Undo us all.—But hark, that Noise declares

The finish'd Rites. Retire we to the Grove,

And there will I enforce—

CREUSA.

No, let us stay.

I will confront this artful Politician,

And shew him I am yet a Queen.

PHORBAS.

Perhaps

'Twere better to retire till our full Scheme

Were ripe for Vengeance.— * Aside. Yet if we remain,

High Words must rise, which will alarm her Pride

And fit her for my Purpose.

Enter XUTHUS, ILYSSUS, Priests, Virgins, Guards, &c. from the Temple.

XUTHUS, (coming up to Creusa)

Thy Looks, Creusa, thy abrupt Departure

Affronting to the God himself, and these

His sacred Ministers, too plainly shew

Irreverent Rage, resisting Heaven's high Will.

Nor do'st thou want I see, unthinking Woman,

Inflamers of thy Folly.—But of this

Enough; behold the Youth whom Heaven designs

Thy Heir, and mine.

CREUSA.

My Heir!

XUTHUS.

Thy Heir, Creusa.

What means that haughty Look? Why with Contempt

Do'st thou behold him? Is he chang'd, Creusa?

Have a few Hours so totally transform'd him?

Is all that winning Grace of which thou spak'st

Almost with Rapture, is that native Charm

Of Innocence all vanish'd? Hear him speak,

Hear if he talks less sensibly than when

Thy pleas'd Attention hung upon his Words,

And lent each Syllable an added Grace.

What hast thou found, or thy grave Monitor

What has he found, which can so suddenly

Have wrought this wond'rous Change? Is it because

The Gods have thought with thee that he deserves

A Crown? or is it that my Will consents?

And therefore thine, proud Queen, perversely strives

To combat thy Affections?

CREUSA.

We methinks

Have chang'd Affections. The calm, steady Xuthus,

Whose equal Mind ne'er knew the stormy Gusts

Of discomposing Passion, now can feel

Indecent Warmth when touch'd by pious Zeal.

Nay he, to whom the tend'rer Sentiments

Seem'd but the Weakness of the human Frame,

Now wakes inspir'd with some unusual Softness.

Have Oracles the Power to raise at once

The kind Affections? or did he conceal

The smother'd Flame, 'till authoris'd by Heaven

It might burst out unquestion'd?

XUTHUS.

Haughty Queen,

I understand thee well; thou think'st this Youth

A Substitute of mine, and dar'st affront

Yon awful Shrine, the Fountain of pure Truth.

But by that God who bears the vengeful Bow,

And whose large Eye—Yet wherefore should I strive

By Oaths to undeceive thee; Breasts like mine

Can scorn th' imputed Falshood they detest.

Nor am I now to learn from what vile Source

Thy vain Suspicions rise. But know, proud Queen,

This Youth shall reign in Athens; and yet more

To punish thy vain Pride, since thou provok'st it,

I do believe him of Aeolian Race.

CREUSA.

Thou do'st?

XUTHUS.

I do. A Race as glorious, Queen,

As Cecrops' boasted lineage. For the Youth,

Were I to beg the choicest Boon of Heaven

From my own Loins to rise, I could not hope

A nobler Offspring.

PHORBAS. Aside to Creusa.

Hear'st thou that?

CREUSA.

I do,

And will revenge the Insult.

ILYSSUS. Kneeling.

Gracious Queen!

What have I done which should estrange thee to me?

Am I the unhappy Cause of these Dissentions?

CREUSA.

Kneel not to me, Ilyssus.

XUTHUS.

Kneel not to her;

'Tis I am thy Protector, and thy Friend,

Nay now thy Father.

ILYSSUS.

Yet, O mighty King,

Permit me at her Royal Feet to pay

My humblest Duty. If I call thee Father,

She sure must be a Mother.

She turns away disorder'd.

XUTHUS.

Rise, Ilyssus,

Thou seest she stands unmov'd.

ILYSSUS.

No, now she softens,

I see it in her Eyes.

CREUSA.

I will, I will

Be Mistress of my Soul.—Why kneel'st thou, Youth,

I blame not thee.

XUTHUS.

Men then thou blam'st, Creusa.

I am the Object of thy Rage. 'Tis Xuthus

Thou think'st unworthy of th' Athenian Throne.

CREUSA.

Athens might well have spar'd a foreign Lustre,

Secure of Fame, had Xuthus ne'er been born.

XUTHUS.

Ungrateful Queen, had Xuthus ne'er been born

What now had Athens been?

CREUSA.

Perhaps in Ruins,

And better so than to become the Prey

Of needy wand'ring Strangers.

XUTHUS.

Earth, and Heaven!

This the Return?—I knew thou never loved'st me,

Yet, witness Heav'n, I ravish'd not thy Hand,

Thou gav'dst it sullenly, but yet thou gav'dst it;

And I well hop'd thy Female Sense of Honour,

Of Duty to thy Lord, might have secur'd

At least my future Peace. Thy tend'rer Thoughts,

The Wife's best Ornament, I knew were buried

In a Plebeian Grave.

CREUSA.

Plebeian Grave?

XUTHUS.

Fool that I was, I flatter'd thy vain Sorrows,

Indulg'd their weak Excess, and rais'd, I find,

Imaginary Rivals in the Tomb.

But never more, Creusa, never more

Shalt thou affront my ill-requited Fondness.

I will destroy that Pageant of thy Passion,

Tear from that Idol Shrine th'insulting Wreaths,

And cancel thy mock Worship.

ILYSSUS.

Gracious Queen,

Retire a while.

CREUSA.

Be gone.—Insulting Tyrant,

Touch but a Wreath that's sacred to Nicander,

And by pale Hecate's awful Rites I swear

Thy Life shall pay the Forfeit; nay the Lives

Of thy whole dastard Race.—Plebeian Grave!

Had that Plebeian liv'd, Imperial Xuthus

Had crouch'd beneath his Feet.

XUTHUS.

O would to Heaven

This scepter'd Arm could raise him from the Earth,

That thou might'st see how infamous a Slave

Thou dar'st prefer to Xuthus.—Come, Ilyssus,

We leave her to her Follies. Look not on her,

She merits not thy Tenderness. Away.

If Reason should again resume its Seat

We may expect her at the Banquet. Come,

All here must be our Guests.

Exeunt Xuthus, Ilyssus, &c.

Creusa, Phorbas, and Lycea stay.

PHORBAS.

Curb not thy Passion, give it Vent, great Queen,

And let it burst in Thunder on thy Foes.

CREUSA.

It shall, by Heaven it shall.—I thought till now

My Griefs were sacred, but this Monster dares

Insult even Misery itself.—O Phorbas,

Forgive me if my Tears will force a Passage.—

Now, they are gone, and I will weep no more.

Come, faithful Counsellor of Vengeance, come,

Instruct me how to act, steel all my Soul;

Let not Remorse or Pity's Coward Voice,

The Bane of noble Deeds, intrude to cross us.

Nicander's injur'd Ghost shall aid our Counsels.

Say, shall he die?

PHORBAS.

Not yet, first be his Schemes

Abortive all, his politic Designs,

Then let him die despis'd.

CREUSA.

Agreed; but how?

PHORBAS.

Now at the Banquet may we crush at once

His full blown hopes. The fatal Cause remov'd,

Th' Effect of course must cease.

CREUSA.

What Cause?

PHORBAS.

The Boy.

I see thou shudder'st at it: but, great Queen,

Hear but the cogent Reasons I shall offer

And thou wilt think as I do. For the Boy

Heav'n knows I wish to spare him, but no Means

No earthly Means but this can curse compleatly

This politic Designer. Doubtless long

This fav'rite Scheme to place on Athens' Throne

His hated Race, has labour'd in his Breast,

And all his Hours employ'd. On this alone

He builds the firm Foundation of his Peace,

His Happiness to come. His Death were nothing,

He knows his Friends, the Minions of his Fortune,

He knows all Greece, such is their Dread and Awe

Of Delphi's Shrine, will join in the Support

Of this deceitful Claim; and that firm Hope

Will make him triumph ev'n in Death, and laugh

At our too shallow Vengeance.

CREUSA.

Laugh he shall not.

No, I will punish home.

PHORBAS.

You cannot punish

By any Means but this. And know, great Queen,

I have a Poison of such subtile Force,

(Why do'st thou start?) of such amazing Strength,

Yet so peculiar in its Operation,

That it shall seem the Surfeit of the Feast,

Not we have done the Deed. At least shall seem so

To all but Xuthus' self; for he methinks

Should know the Truth, at least suspect it strongly,

And yet not dare Revenge.

CREUSA.

I cannot bear it;

Howe'er we fail in our Revenge; my Phorbas,

The Boy must live.

PHORBAS.

Good Heav'n! is this Creusa?

Is this the vengeful Queen who would not hear

Remorse or Pity's Voice?—Farewel then Athens;

Yes, my poor Country, thou must sink enslav'd

To foreign Tyrants. She who should defend

Thy Rights, thy Liberties, stands tamely by

And sees the Yoke impos'd, nay smiles to see it:

Thy Queen, the last of her illustrious Line,

Consents to thy Destruction.

CREUSA.

Never, Phorbas.

Do what thou wilt. With this last parting Pang

I give him to thy Rage.—Yet oh, beware

I see him not again. One Look from him

Would baffle all thy Schemes.

PHORBAS.

Now at the Banquet

Will we infuse the Draught, ev'n in the Cup

Which the King's self presents to his young Heir

In Token of Election.

CREUSA.

Stay, good Phorbas.

PHORBAS.

Already have I for the just Design

Suborn'd a faithful Slave. Nay, should it fail,

I have a trusty Band, a chosen few,

Athenian Souls who scorn to bow the Knee

To any foreign Lord; these will I place

At the Pavilion Doors, if need require,

To second our Attempt.

CREUSA.

Yet stay, good Pherbas.

How kindly did he seem to sympathize

With my Distress! nay almost chid the King,

When his loud Rage—

PHORBAS.

He had been taught his Lesson.

'Twas all Design, all Artifice to work

Upon a Woman's Weakness.

CREUSA.

Think'st thou so?

PHORBAS.

I do. But, O my Queen, be more than Woman,

Conquer this Foible of thy Sex.

CREUSA.

Heav'n knows

How much it costs to do it.—Go then, Phorbas,

I cannot bid thee prosper.

Exit Phorbas.

O Lycea,

Thou know'st not what I feel.—Haste, call him back.—

No, stay—I think the Bitterness is past,

And I can bear it now. Lend me thy Arm,

I would retire, Lycea.—Yet from what

Should I retire? I cannot from myself!—

O Boy, thou art reveng'd; whate'er thou suffer'st

Is light, to what thy Murd'ress feels!

Exeunt.

The End of the Third ACT.

ACT IV. The Laurel Grove.

PHORBAS and Athenians.

PHORBAS.

THIS Way, my Friends; at the Pavilion Doors

Stand ready arm'd, that if we need your Aid

You may observe the Sign, and crush at once

These vile Usurpers on the Rights of Athens.

I hope we want ye not.—I must be hid

A while, lest Xuthus should suspect my Presence.

The Queen too may repent, I'll therefore shun her Aside.

Till the Deed's done, irrevocably done. Aside.

—But stir not till I come.—What Noise is that?

Retire, my Friends, the Temple's Postern Door

Grates on its Hinge.—Be secret, and we prosper.

Exeunt severally.

Enter ALETES and PYTHIA.

ALETES.

This Quarrel was unlucky. A slight Breach

Had lent my Purpose Strength; but wrought thus high

It may defeat our Hopes. She cannot now

With Ease recede from her too rash Resolves,

At least not unsuspected. Did she, say'st thou,

Reject thy Message?

PYTHIA.

Scarcely did she pay

The decent Dues my sacred Office claims.

And when I prest her more, with sullen Pride

She silently withdrew.

ALETES.

See her I must.

Where went she?

PYTHIA.

To the Shades which over-hang

Th' Aonian Fount.

ALETES.

I will pursue her thither.

PYTHIA.

It may not be, for now I know thy Secret

'Tis my turn to be prudent, Know'st thou not

Thou should'st be cautious, nor expose thyself

To prying Eyes? I heard her, as she pass'd,

In broken Whispers bid Lycea haste

To Phorbas, and inform that trusty Friend

That she would wait him in the Laurel Grove.

Here then thou may'st surprise them both, and crown

At once thy whole Design.

ALETES.

Thou counsell'st well,

And I will guide me by thy kind Advice.

O Pythia, how did every thing conspire

To give me hopes that I should place the Boy

Secure on Athens' Throne, unknown to all

But those whom Fate had made his firmest Friends.

The very Means I us'd to make it sure

Have been most adverse to the Cause I labour'd.

Had I relied on Xuthus' Piety,

Nor mention'd Aeolus, Success were mine.

And let me hope it still. What most I fear

Is the Queen's Warmth of Passion. To which end

I must proceed with Tenderness, and hide

For some short time Ilyssus from her Knowledge.

I have unnumber'd Cautions to premise

Which her o'erflowing Joy may haply ruin.

The Banquet, is it ready?

PYTHIA.

It has long

In vain expected its illustrious Guests.

The King already has forgot his Rage,

And hopes returning Thought may move the Queen

To equal Amity: He therefore finds

Continual Causes to delay the Feast.

ALETES.

Retire. Perhaps 'tis she; I hear the Steps

Of some who move this way.

Exit Pythia.

What means he here?

Why art thou absent from the Banquet, Youth?

Enter ILYSSUS.

ILYSSUS.

It has no Joys for me. I fear, Aletes,

Thou and the Pythia have most foully play'd

For my Advancement.

ALETES.

Ha!

ILYSSUS.

Where are the Parents

Whom thou didst promise to my Hopes? Alas

I find no Parents here, no kind Regards,

No inexpressive Fondness. Stern Debate,

And foul Dissention kindle here their Torch

To usher in my Greatness. Ev'n Creusa,

Whose Tenderness I know not how alarm'd

My throbbing Heart with Hopes, and Doubts, and Fears,

Unfelt before, ev'n she has taught her Eyes

To look with Strangeness on me. The good King,

Who yet withdraws not his Protection from me,

Seems lost in anxious Thought.—Unkind Aletes,

Art thou the Cause of this? Say, am I sprung

Of Race Aeolian? For by Heaven I swear,

By that pure Fountain of immortal Truth;

I will not brook Deceit. I will again,

Howe'er the glitt'ring Mischief tempt my Youth,

Become that humble unknown Thing I was,

Rather than wear a Crown by Falshood gain'd.

Speak then, and give me Ease.

ALETES.

My dearest Boy—

His Virtue charms me, tho' it may prevent Aside.

His own Success. O happy, happy Athens, Aside.

To gain a King like him, whose honest Soul Aside.

Starts at imagin'd Fraud! Aside.

ILYSSUS.

Speak on, Aletes,

And do not by that Look of Tenderness,

And murm'ring to thyself, alarm me more.

ALETES.

What should I speak? This very Morn, Ilyssus,

This very Morn I told thee a few Hours

Would shew thee what thou wert; but thy Impatience

Brooks not that short Delay. It seems Aletes

Has lost his usual Credit with Ilyssus,

Ev'n with the Youth his anxious Care has form'd.

Think'st thou the Man who taught thy feeling Heart

To start at Falshood, would himself commit

The Fraud thou shudder'st at? What have I done,

Which should induce thee to a Thought so base?

Did e'er my Precepts contradict my Heart?

Did I e'er teach a Virtue I not practis'd?

—I see thou art confounded. Know then, Youth,

I blame not thy Impatience, nay I praise

That Modesty which can so soon resume

Its Seat, when all things round are big with Wonder.

Ere Night thou shalt know all; till then, Ilyssus,

Behave as Athens' King.

ILYSSUS.

O good Aletes,

Forgive my Rashness. Yes, I know thee honest

As Truth itself, and know the wond'rous Debt

I owe thy Goodness. Yet, if thou confess

That I have Reason for these anxious Cares,

Thou wilt permit me still to question thee.

Nay look upon me whilst I speak to thee.

Perhaps thou hast some secret Cause, Aletes,

For all that kind Attention thou hast shewn me,

From Infancy till now? Why do'st thou turn

Thy Eyes to Earth? 'Tis plain thou hast a Cause:

Thou know'st from whom I spring; how can'st thou else

With Confidence assert, that yet ere Night

I shall know all?—Say this at least, Aletes,

Shall the Queen's Anger cease?

ALETES.

It shall, Ilyssus.

Ev'n now I wait her here; on what Design

I must not yet inform thee. The next Time

Thou shalt behold her thou wilt find a Change

Incredible indeed, from Rage to Fondness,

From cold Reserve to Tears of bursting Joy.

Ilyssus is going to speak eagerly.

—Ask me no more.—Yet something didst thou say

Relating to the Cause which fix'd me here

Thy Guardian, thy Instructor, and—the Time

Will come, when thou shalt know it all, Ilyssus,

And bless my Memory.

ILYSSUS.

Thou weep'st, Aletes.

My Tears will mingle too.

ALETES.

Forbear, and leave me.

Yet stay a while, for now perhaps we part

To meet no more.

ILYSSUS.

No more! Thou wilt not leave me

When most I want thy Care! 'Twas my first Thought,

'Twas the first Boon I ask'd of the good King,

That thou might'st be my kind Instructor still.

He prais'd my Gratitude, and I had promis'd

To bring him to thy Cottage. He himself

Shall be a Suitor to thee.

ALETES.

Thou hast ask'd

Thou know'st not what: It cannot be, Ilyssus,

That Xuthus and Aletes e'er should meet

On terms of Amity. The Smiles of Greatness

To me have lost their Value. For thy Love

I could do much, and to be sever'd from thee

Pulls at my Heart-strings. But resistless Fate

Has fix'd its Seal, and we must part for ever,

How hard soe'er it seem. Thy Youth will soon,

Amidst the busy Scenes of active Greatness,

Forget its Monitor: But I must bear

In hopeless Solitude the Pangs of Absence

Till Thought shall be no more.

ILYSSUS.

O heav'nly Powers

Then there is something dreadful yet conceal'd.

I cannot part from thee in Ignorance.

Tell me, Aletes.

ALETES.

Would I could! But now

It must not be.—Haste to the Banquet, Youth,

Thy Duty calls thee thither.

ILYSSUS.

Go I cannot,

Till thou assur'st me we shall meet again.

ALETES.

If possible we will. If not, remember,

When thou shalt know thyself, that on thyself

Thy Fate depends; that Virtue, Glory, Happiness,

Are close connected, and their sad Reverse

Is Vice, is Pain, is Infamy.—Alas!

These were the Lessons of thy private Life,

This I have told thee oft, but my fond Tongue

Runs o'er its former Precepts, and forgets

Thou now must mount a Throne; a larger Scene

Of Duty opens.

ILYSSUS.

Yet the tender Friend,

Who should direct me, leaves me to myself.

Can'st thou abandon me?

ALETES.

Would Fate permit

I would attend thee still. But oh, Ilyssus,

Whate'er becomes of me, when thou shall reach

That envied Pinacle of earthly Greatness,

Where faithful Monitors but rarely follow,

Ev'n there, amidst the kindest Smiles of Fortune,

Forget not thou wert once distress'd and friendless.

Be strictly just; but yet, like Heaven, with Mercy

Temper thy Justice. From thy purged Ear

Banish base Flattery, and spurn the Wretch

Who would persuade thee thou art more than Man;

Weak, erring, selfish Man, endued with Power

To be the Minister of public Good.

If Conquest charm thee, and the Pride of War

Blaze on thy Sight, remember thou art placed

The Guardian of Mankind, nor build thy Fame

On Rapines, and on Murders. Should soft Peace

Invite to Luxury, the pleasing Bane

Of happy Kingdoms, know from thy Example

The Bliss or Woe of nameless Millions springs,

Their Virtue, or their Vice. Nor think by Laws

To curb licentious Man; those Laws alone

Can bend the headstrong Many to their Yoke,

Which make it present Int'rest to obey them.

O Boy!—

Enter PYTHIA hastily.

PYTHIA.

Ilyssus! wherefore art thou here?

The King expects thee, and the Banquet waits.

ILYSSUS.

I cannot go.

ALETES.

Thou must; thy Fate depends

Upon thy Absence now. The Queen approaches.

After the Banquet I again will see thee,

And thou shalt know the whole. I will by Heaven.

Exit Ilyssus.

Pythia away, and wait me in the Temple.

Exit Pythia.

She saw them not; on her contracted Brow

Sits brooding Care. She speaks! My Heart beats thick,

And my Tongue trembles to perform its Office.

Now Fate attend, and perfect thine own Work!

Enter CREUSA.

CREUSA.

To what have I consented!—Ha! who art thou

That thus intrud'st on sacred Privacy,

When the o'erburthen'd Mind unloads its Griefs,

Its hoarded Miseries.

ALETES.

Thy better Genius!

CREUSA.

That Voice is sure familiar to my Ear!

Who art thou, speak.

ALETES.

One whom Adversity

Has taught to know himself. I bring thee tidings

Of an unhappy Man who wrong'd thee much,

But much repented of the Wrongs he did thee;

Of thy Nicander, Queen.

CREUSA.

Nicander, say'st thou?

O then thou art indeed my better Genius.

ALETES.

Now, arm thy Soul for Wonders yet to come!

Perhaps he lives.

CREUSA.

He lives?

Looking on him with Amazement.

ALETES. After great Irresolution and Struggles with himself.

Behold him here!

She faints.

—What has my Rashness done?—The Blush of Life

Has left her Cheek, the Pulse forgets to move.

Where shall I turn? I cannot call for Aid,

Nor can I leave her thus.—She breathes, she stirs!

—Yes, yes, Creusa, thy Nicander lives,

And he will catch at least this dear Embrace

Tho' now thou art another's.

CREUSA.

Gracious Gods!

It is, it is Nicander, 'tis my Lord!

O I am only thine, no Power on Earth

Shall e'er divide us more.

—It cannot be, my Senses all deceive me—

And yet it is.—O let me gaze upon thee,

Recall each Trace which marks thee for my own,

And gives me back the Image of my Heart.

How Time and Grief have chang'd thee! But my Love

Can know no Change. My Lord, my Life, my Husband!

Where hast thou wander'd? how hast thou been hid

From Love's all-piercing Sight? the bloody Ruffians,

How didst thou 'scape their Rage? or did they wreak

Upon the helpless Innocent alone

Their impious Vengeance?

NICANDER.

Nor on me, nor him

Did Vengeance fall.

CREUSA.

Does he too live?

NICANDER.

He does.

CREUSA. Aside.

O honest Phorbas! Murder now is Virtue.

NICANDER.

The fabled Murder was all Stratagem

Contriv'd for thy dear sake; no impious Ruffians

Pursued our Steps, I found that I had wrong'd thee

Beyond redress, nor knew another means

But by my Death to save thee from Dishonor.

Despair I thought might conquer Love, and thou

Once more be Athens' Pride. The precious Charge

Forbad a real Death, I therefore stain'd

With Blood my well-known Garments, which produc'd.—

CREUSA.

A curst'd Effect.—But I have nearer Fears.

How cam'st thou hither? wherefore to these Shades?

The Boy, where is he?

NICANDER.

Far from hence—

CREUSA.

Thank Heaven!

NICANDER.

He lives in Peace and Safety.—What disturbs thee?

CREUSA.

Nothing—I dare not tell him what I feared,

His honest Breast might shudder at the Guilt,

Tho' now it be more needful. — The dear Boy,

Say, is he brave?

NICANDER.

As Woman could desire.

CREUSA.

And form'd like thee?

NICANDER.

His Person far exceeds

What my most vig'rous Youth could boast, Creusa.

And his firm Mind is Wisdom's aged Strength

With all Youth's Graces soften'd.

CREUSA.

'Tis too much.

O happy Mother! Call'st thou him Nicander?

NICANDER.

No, Ion, 'twas the Name the Matron chose,

Who gave him to my Care.

CREUSA.

Then Ion be it.

Ion shall reign in Athens. Know'st thou, Love,

The curs'd Design which this Aeolian here,

And the vile Maid —

NICANDER.

The Priestess, it should seem,

With Xuthus has conspir'd to fix his Race

On Athens' Throne.

CREUSA.

But never shall his Race

That Scepter wield.

NICANDER.

It never shall, Creusa.

I have a Means —

CREUSA. Aside.

My Means, thank Heaven, is surer.

NICANDER.

But I will tell thee all from first to last.

Hear then and weigh my Words, for Fate is in them.

Xuthus, th' Athenian King—

CREUSA.

I think not of him.

NICANDER.

Beware of that. Whate'er thou think'st, Creusa,

Xuthus must still reign on, thy Lord and Husband.

CREUSA.

Xuthus my Lord! then what art thou, Nicander?

Do'st thou despise me for a Crime thyself

Hast forc'd me to commit? My Soul was thine

Ev'n when I gave my Hand, and still remains

Untainted, undefil'd.

NICANDER.

I know it well,

Thou dearest, best of Women.—My torn Heart

Drops Blood while I propose it, yet we must,

We must for ever part.—Forbear, Creusa,

That killing Look strikes thro' me.—Think, O think,

What in this Age of Absence I have borne,

How combated each tender Thought, and liv'd

For thy dear Sake a Victim to Despair.

But now if thou consent'st, all, all is mine,

And I forgive my Fate.—The dear, dear Boy,

I have a Means to place him on the Throne

Secure as we could wish.

CREUSA.

Secure he shall be,

I will proclaim him to the World as mine,

And Athens shall with Joy receive its Sov'reign;

The Tyrant Xuthus shall be taught to fear

A Master's Frown.

NICANDER.

Thy Rashness, my Creusa,

May ruin all.

CREUSA.

I will be rash, if this

Be Rashness, to declare to Earth, to Heav'n,

A Mother's Heart-felt Joy, whose only Child

Snatch'd from the Grave unhop'd for comes to claim,

With every Grace and every Virtue crown'd,

Th' Imperial Seat of his great Ancestors.

And shall we wait a Means?

NICANDER.

We need not wait;

For by my Care th' important Means is found

Already, and no human Power but thine

Can hinder our Success. I would have hid

The Secret from thee till thy wish'd Consent

Had giv'n my Purpose Strength, but thou defeat'st

My utmost Caution, and wilt force me tell thee,

Ilyssus is young Ion!—Ha! Creusa!

Thou art not mad! Good Heaven! how her Eye fixes!

What have I done? what said, which could attack

The Seats of Sense with this amazing Force?

My Wife, my Queen, O speak?—

CREUSA.

Off, touch me not,

Thou can'st not bring Relief.—O I am curs'd

Beyond all Power of Aid. Thou too art curs'd

And know'st it not.—He dies, he dies, Nicander!

NICANDER.

Amazement! who?

CREUSA.

O had he not been mine,

His Youth, his Softness, each attracting Grace—

I should have staid whole Ages ere in Thought

I had consented to so damn'd a Deed.

Tears, Tears, why burst ye not?—But what have I

To do with Tears? those are for tender Mothers.

The Tigress weeps not o'er her mangled Prey.—

He dies, he dies, Nicander.

NICANDER.

Who? Ilyssus?

Speak, speak, Creusa.

CREUSA.

Phorbas urg'd the Deed,

And I consented; at the Feast he dies

By Poison.—O my Soul!

NICANDER.

Fly then, this Instant

Perhaps thou may'st prevent it, as thou cam'st

He parted hence.—I knew not to his Death!

CREUSA.

I go, I fly.

NICANDER.

Yet stay, thy Rashness there,

If Fate has sav'd him, may undo us yet.

—The Pythia! true, the Pythia shall rush in

To stop the fatal Banquet, and declare

The Feast unhallow'd; at this lucky Moment

She waits me in the Temple.—Stay, Creusa.

Exit Nicander.

CREUSA.

The Pythia, no; I will myself outstrip

The Lightning's Speed. Whatever be th' Event,

'Tis not too late to die.

Exit.

The End of the Fourth ACT.

ACT V. The Laurel Grove.

PHORBAS and LYCEA.

LYCEA.

O Earth! O Heaven! O wretched, wretched Athens!

PHORBAS.

Speak on, Lycea; wherefore art thou silent?

Why do'st thou lead me to this secret Shade?

What mean thy flowing Tears?

LYCEA.

The Queen, the Queen!

PHORBAS.

Say, what of her?

LYCEA.

I know not, all to me

Is Terror and Confusion.

PHORBAS.

What thou know'st

Relate.

LYCEA.

She sent me forth to seek thee, Phorbas;

I found thee not, but met at my Return

Creusa's self. Despair was in her Eyes,

With hasty Steps she shot impatie•• by me,

Nor listen'd when I spake. I follow'd wond'ring,

And enter'd the Pavilion.

PHORBAS.

The Pavilion?

Why, went she to the Banquet?

LYCEA.

Eager went,

Despair and Anguish mixing on her Look.

But, O good Heaven, how chang'd was that Despair

To inexpressive Joy, when from the Croud

She learnt Ilyssus had delay'd the Feast,

And won the King once more to ask her Presence,

"Where is he? let me clasp him to my Breast,"

She cried; "I now no longer will resist

"Heaven's high command." Imperial Xuthus rose

With Transport to receive her, and loud Shouts

Proclaim'd the People's Joy. When, Death to Sight!

Eternal Pain to Memory! the Slave

Presents the Goblets; Fill, she cried, a third,

I too will hail Ilyssus King of Athens.

But first all swear, swear by immortal Jove,

By the far-darting God who here presides,

And the chaste Guardian of our native Fanes,

Swear here, swear all, and binding be the Oath,

Ilyssus only shall be Athens' King.

PHORBAS.

What could she mean?

LYCEA.

Attentive Xuthus caught

With Joy the happy Omen, and all swore

Ilyssus only should be Athens' King.

This done, I saw her from Ilyssus' Hand

Snatch the dire Goblet, and to him resign

Her own untouch'd. The Slave who mix'd the Draught

Turn'd oale and trembled, I with eager Zeal

Press'd forward, but in vain; she firmly grasp'd

The Bowl, and smiling drank it to the Dregs.

PHORBAS.

The Poison, ha?—I knew her foolish Fondness

Would start at Murder's Name. But wherefore die?

Why turn upon herself her impious Rage?

'Twas Madness all; or else some new Contrivance,

Some fresh Aeolian Fraud.—I care not what.

I yet will blast their Schemes.—Yes, let her die,

By her own Folly perish. Athens still

Survives, and shall survive.—I must be sudden.

She doubtless will betray me to the King,

And cut off ev'n this last Resource. Lycea,

Be secret, and thy Country shall be free.

LYCEA.

Were it not better, Phorbas, first to see her.

Perhaps some Secret unreveal'd may lurk

Beneath this Show of unexampled Rashness.

She left the Banquet soon, and with the Pythia

Enter'd the Temple.

PHORBAS.

With the Pythia, say'st thou?

Then there is Mischief toward.

LYCEA.

Yet now alone

We may surprize her, for I saw the Maid

Quick from the Fane return with hasty Steps

As if dispatch'd on some important Message,

Perhaps to find thee out. Sure thou should'st see her.

PHORBAS.

And perish, ha?—No, no, my sacred Country,

Too much already have I been deceiv'd;

I will not leave thee in a Woman's Power.

—Yet hold, Lycea may inform her of them

And my Designs prove yet abortive. Maid,

Thy Presence may be needful.

LYCEA.

Mine? Good Heaven,

In what? Creusa will require my Aid;

At least my Tears are due to my poor Queen

In her last Moments.

PHORBAS.

Stay, she wants them not;

I know the Poison's Force too well, Lycea,

To fear a Death so sudden. This Way, Maid;

Nay, thou must go; I shall have Business for thee,

Some secret Message to the Queen, Lycea,

Which thou alone can'st bear.

Exeunt.

Enter PYTHIA and NICANDER.

PYTHIA.

'Twas he, I saw him and Lycea with him.

Sure he should be inform'd?—Thou hear'st me not.

NICANDER.

This Action of the Queen sits near my Heart.

PYTHIA.

She bade me tell thee.—But why waste we Time,

Thou now may'st enter at the Postern Gate

Unseen by all.

NICANDER.

Why did'st thou not rush in, and stop the Feast?

Thy speedy Presence there had sav'd us all.

PYTHIA.

What could I do? The Queen was there already

And all seem'd Peace and Joy; could I suspect

That Poison lurk'd beneath so fair a seeming?

NICANDER.

She breaks thro' my Designs.—Unhappy Woman!

My Soul bleeds for her, and Confusion hangs

On every rising Thought.—The dear, dear Boy!—

Where is he, at the Banquet still?

PYTHIA.

He is.

NICANDER.

And where Creusa?

PYTHIA.

I already told thee,

But thou regard'st not, in the Temple's Gloom

Retir'd she sits, expecting thy Approach.

We there may settle all.

NICANDER.

I fear her much.

Thou seest her Passions are too near concern'd

To be of use to us; thy cooler Sense

Must here direct us. Does the Poison's Power

Affect her yet?

PYTHIA.

Not yet; I would have tried

Some powerful Antidote to quell its Force;

But she refuses Life, and only begs

To see her Son and thee.

NICANDER.

I will attend

Upon the Instant. But first hear me, Pythia;

Thou seest on what a Precipice we stand,

It were in vain to hope we could conceal

The Truth from Xuthus, from the rest we may;

'Tis thy task therefore—

PYTHIAS.

What? to own the Fraud,

And publish to the King that Delphi's Shrine

Is not oracular. Ha!

NICANDER.

To the King

'Twere better sure to publish the Deceit

Than to the World; and where's the Means but this

To hide it? By Creusa's Art thou say'st

He is already bound in solemn Oaths

To leave Ilyssus Heir to Athens' Throne.

Can'st thou not add still stronger Oaths, or ere

Thou do'st reveal the Secret of our Fate?

Then who shall dare to break them? shall the King?

Thou know'st his scrup'lous Piety extends

Almost to Weakness. What should tempt him to it?

Creusa dead can frame no Schemes against him;

The Boy to him alone must owe his Greatness;

And for Nicander, never more shall Greece

Hear his forgotten Name.

PYTHIA.

It must be so;

And yet—

NICANDER.

What yet? to Phorbas thou with ease

May'st own the Truth; he will not start at Fraud

In sacred things.—But see, the Queen approaches

Impatient of our Stay. She changes not!

The Bloom of Health is still upon her Cheek!

Fain would I hope—But Hopes, alas, are vain.—

What hast thou done, Creusa?

CREUSA entering.

Sav'd Ilyssus!

NICANDER.

Thou might'st have liv'd with Honor.

CREUSA.

Liv'd! good Heaven!

I start, I tremble at the Thoughts of Life.

Can'st thou reflect on what I had design'd,

On what I am, on what, alas, I have been,

And not perceive Death was my only Refuge?

—Am I not Xuthus' Wife, and what art thou?

O had'st thou seen the Torments of my Soul,

When in one hasty Moment it ran o'er

The Business of an Age, weigh'd all Events,

Saw Xuthus, Thee, Ilyssus, Athens bleed

In one promiscuous Carnage!—Light at length

Burst thro' the Gloom, and Heaven's own Voice proclaim'd

One Victim might suffice.—

For Xuthus Honor strove, and mightier Love

Assum'd Nicander's Cause. Who then could fall?

Could Xuthus? could Nicander?—no; Creusa.

NICANDER.

Would thou had'st been less kind!—But, O my Queen,

To blame thee now were vain.—

CREUSA.

To blame? 'tis Praise,

'Tis Triumph I demand. He lives! he reigns!

Young Ion lives! young Ion reigns in Athens!

O bring him, Pythia, bring him to my Arms;

Let me but pour a last sad Blessing o'er him,

And Death has lost its Terrors.

How now, Lycea?

Enter LYCEA hastily.

LYCEA.

Mighty Queen, I know not

If thy Command would authorize th' Attempt,

But Phorbas with an arm'd Athenian Band

Now enters the Pavilion to destroy

The King and young Ilyssus.

NICANDER.

Earth and Heaven!

What say'st thou, Maid?

CREUSA.

O let me fly to save him,

Here shall their Poinards—

NICANDER.

Rest thou there, Creusa,

Thy Embaffies to-day have prov'd too fatal.

My Life for his I save him from the Stroke,

And on the Instant send him to thy Arms.

Now, Fate, be doubly mine!

Exit.

CREUSA.

Off, let me go, I will not be restrain'd.

They tear him piecemeal!

PYTHIA.

Patience, mighty Queen!

What Man can do Nicander will perform.

CREUSA.

He is a Father only to my Child,

He cannot tell them what a Mother feels.

—Phorbas was born the Curse of me and mine.

I might have known to what his impious Rage

Would urge him on, and should have first inform'd him.

—Gods! must I never know sweet Peace again,

Not even in Death have Rest!

PYTHIA.

Behold who comes

To bless thee ere thou diest, and cease to murmur

At Heaven's high Will.

Enter ILYSSUS.

CREUSA.

It is, it is Ilyssus—

My Son, my Son!

ILYSSUS.

Good Heavens! and do I live

To see a Parent melt in Fondness o'er me!

—Aletes saved me from the Soldiers' Arms,

And bade me fly to find a Mother here.

Art thou indeed that Mother, mighty Queen!

And may I call thee so? Thou art, thy Looks

Thy Tears, thy kind Embrace, all, all proclaim

The Truth—O let me thus, thus on my Knees—

CREUSA.

Rise, rise, my Child; I am, I am thy Mother.

ILYSSUS.

O sacred Sound, Ilyssus is no more

That outcast Youth. A Mother, and a Queen

He finds at once.

CREUSA.

But art thou safe, my Child?

Hast thou no Wound?

ILYSSUS.

The old grey-headed Man,

Who brought this Morn the News of thy Arrival,

Had rais'd against my Breast his eager Sword,

Defenceless I; when good Aletes came

And snatch'd me from the Stroke. I would have staid,

Unarm'd with him have staid, but his Command

Was absolute, that I should fly to find,

What I have found, a Mother!

Embracing her.

Yet, O Queen,

Why am I thus encompass'd round with Wonder?

May I not know this Riddle of my Fate?

Why first condemn'd to pass my Infant Days

In this obscure Retreat? If I am thine,

Thy Son, illustrious Queen, sure I was born

To Thrones, and Empires?

CREUSA.

Thou art born to Thrones,

And shalt in Athens reign.

ILYSSUS.

As Xuthus' Heir.

Is Xuthus then my Sire? Forgive me, Queen,

I have a thousand, and a thousand Doubts.

Can Xuthus be my Sire?

PYTHIA. Forbear, Ilyssus,

Nor press thy Fate too far. When Time permits

Thou shalt know all.

CREUSA.

Shalt know it now, Ilyssus.

Not Xuthus is thy Sire, but that brave Man

Who but this Instant snatch'd thee from thy Fate,

And by that Act proclaim'd himself a Father.

ILYSSUS.

Aletes?

CREUSA.

Not Aletes, but Nicander,

My wedded Lord, thy Sire!—And see, he comes

To bless thee, and confirm the sacred Truth.

—Good Heaven, he bleeds!

Enter NICANDER.

NICANDER.

To Death, to Death, Creusa.

Amid the Fray I met the Fate I sought for.

All else is safe, and Xuthus now pursues

A scatter'd Few, who fall beneath his Sword.

—Where is my Boy?—Ye Guards of Innocence!

How has he been beset, and how escap'd!

—Where is my Boy, for I may own him now,

And clasp him to my Breast, no more Aletes,

The sage Instructor of a Youth unknown,

But the dear Father weeping o'er his Child.

ILYSSUS.

O Sir, what Gratitude before inspir'd

Let Duty pay.

NICANDER.

I have no Time to waste

In Fondness now. Hear my last Words, Ilyssus,

And bind them to thy heart. Thou still must live

The Son of Xuthus. The good Pythia here

Will tell thee all the Story of thy Fate:

And may'st thou prosper as thou do'st obey

Her sacred Counsel. Xuthus too must know

The fatal Tale; but to the World beside

It must be hid in Darkness.

PYTHIA. Phorbas sure

Should be inform'd.

NICANDER.

Phorbas has breath'd his last;

And the brib'd Slave who mix'd the poisonous Draught

Fell by this Hand.—Ilyssus, O farewel.

I will not bid Adieu to thee, Creusa,

Thy Colour changes, and the Lamp of Life

Fades in thy Eye; we soon shall meet again. —

Ilyssus, Oh!—

ILYSSUS.

How hard he grasps my Hand!

My Lord, my Father! Have I learn'd so late,

To call thee by that Name, and must I lose,

For ever lose?—Good Heaven, she grasps me too!

What means it, Pythia? the cold Damps of Death

Are on her.

CREUSA.

O my Child, enquire no farther;

'Tis fitting we should part. Lycea, Pythia,

Intreat of Xuthus—yet I need not fear

His Goodness, tho' I wrong'd him, foully wrong'd him,

He yet will prove a Father to my Child,

And from the World conceal the fatal Truth.

O I am cold—what Bolts of Ice shoot thro' me!

How my Limbs shiver!—Nearer yet, my Child,

My Sight grows dim, and I could wish to gaze

For ever on thee.—Oh, it will not be—

Ev'n thou art lost, Ilyssus.—Oh—Farewel.

Dies.

ILYSSUS.

She dies, she dies. Was I then only mock'd

With a vain Dream of Bliss to be plung'd back

In deeper Misery? Did I but hear

The tender Name of Child breath'd fondly o'er me

To make me feel what 'tis to lose that Name?

O I am ten times more an Orphan now,

Than when I knew no Parents.

Enter XUTHUS, &c.

XUTHUS.

Where is this Murd'ress, who with vile Deceit

Seem'd to consent to ours, and Heaven's Designs,

Only to make us a more easy Prey

To her Assassins?—Ha, Creusa dead?

And the brave Stranger who preserv'd us all?

Is he too dead?—The Boy—

PYTHIA. Ilyssus lives.

And thou hast sworn, great King, that he shall reign

Supreme in Athens. Say, do'st thou confirm

That Oath?

XUTHUS.

I do, by Heaven!

PYTHIA.

Ask here no more.

The fatal Tale is for thy private Ear.

Retire, and learn it all. For poor Creusa,

She wrong'd not thee, upon herself alone

She drew Heaven's Vengeance. And too surely proves

That Murder but intentional, not wrought

To horrid Act, before th' eternal Throne

Stands forth the first of Crimes. Who dare assume,

Unwarranted, Heaven's high Prerogative

Oe'r Life and Death, with double Force shall find

Turn'd on themselves the Mischiefs they design'd.

The End of the Fifth ACT.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Miss HAUGHTON, who acted the PYTHIA.

AT length I'm freed from Tragical Parade,

No more a Pythian Priestess,—tho' a Maid;

At once resigning, with my sacred Dwelling,

My Wreaths, my Wand, my Arts of Fortune-telling.

Yet superstitious Folks, no doubt, are here,

Who still regard me with a kind of Fear,

Lest to their secret Thoughts these prying Eyes

Should boldly pass, and take them by Surprize.

Nay, tho' I disavow the whole Deceit,

And fairly own my Science all a Cheat,

Should I declare, in spite of Ears and Eyes,

The Beaus were handsome, or the Critics wise,

They'd all believe it, and with dear Delight

Say to themselves at least,

"The Girl has Taste;" "the Woman's in the right."

Or, should I tell the Ladies, so dispos'd,

They'd get good Matches, ere the Season clos'd,

They'd smile, perhaps, with seeming Discontent,

And, sneering, wonder what the Creature meant;

But whisper to their Friends, with beating Heart.

"Suppose there should be something in her Art"

Grave Statesmen too would chuckle, should I say,

On such a Motion, and by such a Day,

They would be summon'd from their own Affairs

To 'tend the Nation's more important Cares;

"Well, if I must—howe'er I dread the Load,

"I'll undergo it—for my Country's Good.

All Men are Bubbles, in a skilful Hand,

The ruling Passion is the Conjurer's Wand.

Whether we praise, foretell, persuade, advise,

'Tis that alone confirms us Fools or Wise.

The Devil without may spread the tempting Sin,

But the sure Conqueror is—the Devil within.

A SECOND EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. PRITCHARD.

STAY, Ladies—Tho' I'am almost tir'd to Death

With this long Part—and am so out of Breath—

Yet such a lucky Thought kind Heaven has sent,

That if I die for't, I must give it Vent.

The Men you know are gone. And now, suppose,

Before our Lords and Masters are rechose,

We take th' Advantage of an empty Town,

And chuse a House of Commons of our own.

What think ye, cannot we make Laws?—and then

Cannot we too unmake them, like the Men?

O place us once in good St. Stephen's Pews,

We'll shew them Women have their public Use.

Imprimis they shall marry; not a Man

Past twenty-five, but what shall wear the Chain.

Next, we'll in earnest set about Reclaming,

For, by my Life and Soul, we'll put down Gaming.

We'll spoil their deep destructive Midnight Play;

The Laws we make, we'll force them to obey;

Unless we let them, when their Spirits flag,

Piddle with us, ye know, at Quinze and Brag.

"I hope, my Dearest," says some well-bred Spouse,

"When such a Bill shall come before your House,

"That you'll consider Men are Men—at least

"That you'll not Speak, my Dear."—Not speak?—The Beast!

What, would you wound my Honour?—Wrongs like these—

For this, Sir, I shall bring you on your Knees.

—Or, if we're quite good-natur'd, tell the Man

We'll do him all the Service that we can.

Then for ourselves, what Projects, what Designs?

We'll tax, and double tax their nasty Wines;

But Duty-free import our Blonds and Laces,

French Hoops, French Silks, French Cambricks, and—French Faces.

In short, my Scheme is not compleated quite,

But I may tell ye more another Night.

So come again, come all, and let us raise

Such glorious Trophies to our Country's Praise,

That all true Britons shall with one Consent

Cry out, "Long live the Female Parliament!

THE END.

Information about this book

Title statement

Creüsa, Queen of Athens: A tragedy. As it is acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane by His Majesty's servants. Written by Mr. William Whitehead.

Whitehead, William, 1715-1785.

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University of Oxford Text Archive
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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3583

ID [isbn10]

1106005821

ID [isbn13]

9781106005823

ID [TCP]

K020910.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3310244664

ID [ECLL]

0152601100

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Source

— Creüsa, Queen of Athens: A tragedy. As it is acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury-Lane by His Majesty's servants. Written by Mr. William Whitehead., Whitehead, William, 1715-1785.. [8],77,[3]p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for R. and J. Dodsley; and sold by M. Cooper,. 1754.. [A reissue of the 1754 edition with the titlepage corrected.] [Based on Euripides' 'Ion'.] [Final leaf of epilogue.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT1555.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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