by John Dryden
Is our enchanting siren; she that sings
Our Ptolemy into secure destruction.
In vain I counsel him to avoid his ruin:
These women-charmers, oh! they have a devil
Too strong to dispossess. — Call in my son.
[Goes to the door.
Enter CLEANTHES.
Cleanthes, are you Cleomenes’ friend,
Or only seem you such?
Clean. To seem to be, and not be what I seem,
Are things my honest nature understands not
Sosib. But you must love your king and country more.
Clean. Yes, when I have a king and country
That can deserve my love.
Egypt, as Egypt is, deserves it not:
A people, baser than the beasts they worship;
Below their pot-herb gods, that grow in gardens:
The king —
Sosib. Go to, young man; whate’er he be,
I must not hear my master vilified.
Clean. Why did you name him then? Were
I at prayers,
And even for you, whom as my soul I love,
If Ptolemy should come across my thoughts,
A curse would follow, where I meant a blessing.
Sosib. ’Tis well, ’tis well I am so fond a father;
Those words were death in any other mouth.
I know too much of you; you love the Spartan
Beyond your king and country.
Clean. ’Tis a truth
So noble, I would own it to the gods,
And they be proud to hear it.
Sosib. Confess, you love him better than your father.
Clean. No; but I love him equal with my father.
Sosib. Say better, and say true.
If we were opposite, and one must fall,
Whom wouldst thou save?
Clean. Neither; for both would die,
Before I could resolve.
Sosib. If I command thee
To break thy friendship with him, wouldst thou?
Clean. No.
Sosib. Why, then thou hast confessed, thou lovest him more.
Clean. Not so: for, should he bid me disobey,
Or not love you, thus would I answer him,
As I have answered you.
Sosib. Ungrateful boy!
Clean. You bid me tell you true, and this is my reward.
Sosib. Go from my sight!
Clean. I will; but would not go
Without your blessing.
Sosib. Oh, so well I love thee,
That I could curse thee for not loving me! —
Stay, I would send thee on a message to him,
But that I fear thy faith.
Clean. You wrong my piety.
Sosib. It much concerns my interest, which is thine.
Wouldst thou deliver what I have to say?
Wouldst thou induce his reason to comply?
Clean. Both; granting your proposals honourable:
If not, employ some mercenary tongue, —
The court affords you store, — and spare my virtue.
Sosib. I would have Cleomenes sent away
With royal aid.
Clean. You promised him he should.
Sosib. And would have thee persuade him to this voyage.
Clean. A welcome errand: O my dear, dear father!
Sosib. But on my terms, mark that; my terms, Cleanthes.
Clean. I feared the statesman in you.
Sosib. I would have Egypt safe; that’s all my interest:
And therefore he must leave behind, for pawns,
His mother, wife, and son.
Clean. ’Tis clogging of a gift; ’tis base, mean counsel.
I hope you gave it not.
Sosib. No, ’twas Cassandra:
But she would have that odium cast on me;
I am her beast of burden, and must bear it.
Clean. I never can belie so good a father;
But this I’ll do:
The message shall be faithfully delivered,
And all the strumpet stand exposed to shame.
Sosib. Thou hitt’st my meaning; but he must be secret,
Must seem to take the favour as from her,
And lay the hardship of the terms on me.
Clean. He shall.
Sosib. And thou wilt gild this bitter pill;
For there’s no other way to go from hence,
But leaving these behind.
Clean. A beam of thought
Comes glancing on my soul. — I’ll undertake it,
[Aside.
The pledges shall be left.
Sosib. My best Cleanthes! [EMBRACES HIM.
But haste, and lose no time.
Clean. I’m all on fire to serve my friend and father. — [EXIT Cleanthes.
Sosib. [ALONE.] This Cleomenes ought to be despatched;
Despatched the safest way: he ought to die.
Not that I hate his virtue; but I fear it.
The mistress drives my counsel to the leeward.
Now I must edge upon a point of wind;
And make slow way, recovering more and more,
Till I can bring my vessel safe ashore.
[Exit SOSIBIUS.
SCENE II. — Of a Temple with Illuminations.
An Altar, Apis painted above; Priests and
Choristers. Ptolemy, Cassandra, Courtiers, men and women, all decently placed.
Music, instrumental and vocal. Then
Ptolemy, taking Cassandra by the hand, advances to the Altar of Apis, bowing thrice, and gives the High Priest a purse.
Soft music all the while Ptolemy and
Cassandra are adoring and speaking.
Ptol. Soul of the universe, and source of life,
Immortal Apis, thou thrice-holy fire,
Hear Egypt’s vows and mine! If, as we dream,
Egyptian earth, impregnated with flame,
Sprung the first man,
Preserve thy primitive plantation here!
Then for myself, thy type, and thy vicegerent,
Roll from my loins a long descent of kings,
Mixed of Cassandra’s kindly blood and mine.
Mine be she only, and I only hers!
And when I shall resolve again to thee,
May she survive me, and be Queen of Egypt:
Hear this, and firm it with some happy omen!
[an augury portending good success arises from the altar.
Omnes. Apis be praised for this auspicious omen!
[Ptolemy bowing retires, and seems pleased.
Cas. [kneels.] Great power of Love! who spread’st thy gentle fire
Through human hearts, art everywhere adored;
Accept these vows, in show to Apis paid,
And make his altar thine! hear not that wretch,
Because his prayers were not addressed to thee;
Or only hear his last, that I may reign!
Make Cleomenes mine, and mine alone.
Give us a flight secure, a safe arrival,
And crown our wishes in each other’s arms.
Hear this, and firm it with some happy omen!
[A bad omen arises from the flames of the
Altar.
Omnes. Avert this omen, Apis!
Cas. [RISES.] Accursed be thou, grass-eating foddered god!
Accursed thy temple! more accursed thy priests!
The gods are theirs, not ours; and when we pray
For happy omens, we their price must pay.
In vain at shrines the ungiving suppliant stands;
This ’tis to make a vow with empty hands:
Fat offerings are the priesthood’s only care;
They take the money, and heaven hears the prayer.
Without a bribe their oracles are mute;
And their instructed gods refuse the suit.
[Exit Cassandra in a fury; King and
Attendants follow. Scene closes.
SCENE III. — The Port of Alexandria.
Enter Cleomenes, and Cleanthes.
Cleom. The propositions are unjust and hard;
And if I swallow them, ’tis as we take
The wrath of heaven.
We must have patience, for they will be gods,
And give us no account of what we suffer.
Clean. My father much abhors this middle way.
Betwixt a gift and sale of courtesy.
But ’tis the mistress; she that seemed so kind,
’Tis she, that bears so hard a hand upon you;
She that would half oblige, and half affront.
Cleom. Let her be what she is: that’s curse enough.
But such a wife, a mother, and a son!
Oh, sure, ye gods! when ye made this vile Egypt,
Ye little thought, they should be mortgaged here!
My only comfort
Is, that I trust these precious pawns with thee;
For thou art so religiously a friend,
That I would sooner leave them in thy hands,
Than if I had security from heaven,
And all the gods to answer for their safety.
Clean. Yes, yes; they shall be safe;
And thou shalt have a pledge,
As strong as friendship can make over to thee.
Deny me not, for I must go with thee,
And share what fate allots for thee in Greece.
[Cleomenes looks discontentedly.
Nay, cast not on me that forbidding frown;
But let me be their pawn, as they are thine:
So I shall have thee wholly to myself,
And be thy wife, thy mother, and thy son,
As thou art all to me.
Cleom. O friend! [sighs, and wipes his eyes.
Clean. What wouldst thou say, my better part?
Cleom. No more, but this, that thou art too unkind,
When even in kindness thou wouldst overcome.
Clean. Let me be proud; and pardon thou my pride.
Base, worthless Egypt has no other pawn,
To counterbalance these, but only me.
’Twas on such terms alone I durst propose it.
Shalt thou leave these,
And I not leave a father whom I love?
Come, come, it must be so.
We’ll give each other all we have besides;
And then we shall be even. — Here they are!
I leave thee. Break those tender ties of nature
As gently as thou canst; they must be broken.
[Going, returns.
But, when thou seest Cassandra, curb thy spleen;
Seem to receive the kindness as from her;
And, if thou think’st I love thee, for my sake,
Remembering me, strive to forget my father.
[Exit CLEANTHES.
Enter CLEORA, CRATESICLEA, and CLEONIDAS.
Cleom. But how can I sustain to tell them this,
[Walking from them.
Even in the gentlest terms!
There are not words in any tongue so soft
As I would use: the gods must have a new one,
If they would have me speak.
Crat. How, King of Sparta! When your fortune smiles,
A glorious sunshine and a gloomy soul?
The gods love cheerfulness when they are kind;
They think their gifts despised, and thrown away
On sullen, thankless hearts.
Cleor. I hear, my dearest lord, that we shall go.
Cleom. Go!
Cleon. What a mournful echo makes my father!
By Mars, he stifles go upon his tongue,
And kills the joyful sound; he speaks so low,
That heaven must listen, if it hear his thanks.
Cleom. Yes, I shall go; but how?
Cleor. With Egypt’s aid.
Cleon. With his own soul and sword, a thousand strong;
And worth ten Egypts, and their ten thousand gods.
Crat. There’s something more in this than what we guess;
Some secret anguish rolls within his breast,
That shakes him like an earthquake, which he presses,
And will not give it vent: I know him well.
He blushes, and would speak, and wants a voice;
And stares and gapes like a forbidden ghost,
Till he be spoke to first. — Tell me, my son!
Cleom. Mother, I will. — And yet I cannot neither. — [Aside.
Mother! that word has struck me dumb again:
For, how can I say Mother, and propound
To leave her here behind who gave me life?
Mother! and wife! and son! the names that nature
Most loves to speak, are banished from my mouth.
Cleor. Tell us, my love, the king has changed his mind,
And has refused us leave; for we can bear it:
Egypt is Greece to me, while you are here.
Cleom. Oh, I would speak! But, oh! you speak so kindly,
That you forbid my speech: You call me love.
Cleor. Was that too kind a word?
Cleom. It was to me: I am a mere barbarian,
A brute, a stock, for I have no relations,
Or shortly shall have none.
Cleor. Then we must die!
Cleon. We must; and welcome death.
Crat. To save his life.
Cleom. The gods forbid that you should die for me!
No, you may live; but I must die thrice over,
For I must leave you here, or must not go:
These are the hard conditions offered me.
Crat. Then Egypt would have pledges: Is this all?
Cleom. Yes, and a mighty all:’Tis all I have.
But I propose it not; remember that.
Crat. I do; and therefore I propose it first,
To save this virtuous shame, this good confusion,
That would not let you speak.
Cleom. Oh! I could almost think you love me not,
You granted me so quick, so willingly,
What I, — bear witness, heaven, — was slow to ask,
And would be loath to have.
Cleor. I cannot leave you.
Cleom. I was but wishing thou wouldst draw me back,
And now, I cannot go.
Crat. Are you turned woman?
No more of this fond stuff.
Cleon. Shall I be left to gather rust in Egypt?
A glue of sloth to stick to my young pinions,
And mar their flight; habitual cowardice?
No; I must learn my stubborn trade of war
From you alone, and envy you betimes.
Cleom. But the conditions! Oh, these hard conditions!
That such a spirit must be left behind,
Untaught, unfashioned by a father’s hands!
A spirit fit to start into an empire,
And look the world to law.
Crat. No more debating, for I see the pinch.
He must be left, and so must she and I,
For we are but your softnesses, my son;
The encumbrances and luggage of the war.
Fight for us, and redeem us, if you please;
For there we are your clogs of virtue; here,
The spurs of your return.
Cleom. I thank you, mother;
Once more you have erected me to man,
And set me upright, with my face to heaven.
The woman and the boy be yours a while:
The war be mine alone!
Crat. There spoke the Spartan king: Think not on us.
Cleom. I wonnot.
Cleor. Not in prayers!
Cleon. In prayers! That’s poor,
As if the gods were thoughtless in their work,
Think on us, when you fight; and when you make
A lusty stroke, cry out, — That’s for my boy.
Crat. Dispose this mouldering carcass as you please,
Unprofitable then for Sparta’s good.
Be cheerful, fight it well, and all the rest
Leave to the gods and fortune.
Cleom. If they fail me,
Theirs be the fault, for fate is theirs alone:
My virtue, fame, and honour are my own.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I. — An Antechamber of Cassandra’s
Lodging.
Enter PTOLEMY, SOSIBIUS, CŒNUS, and
CASSANDRA.
Sosib. So, so, — it works; now, mistress, sit you fast. — [Aside.
Ptol. Humph, whores and catamites!
Were those his words?
Cœn. Upon my life they were.
Ptol. Whom should he mean by those unmannered terms?
Cassandra, can you guess?
Cas. ’Twas kindly asked.
Ptol. A foul-mouthed villain.
Sosib. So I should have thought,
But that this lady knows him good and grateful.
Cœn. Madam, I stand suspected without cause;
And, but I fear revenge from this great man,
I could say more.
Cas. I thought he was concerned.
Sosib. Who, I?
Cas. Speak boldly, Grecian, I protect thee.
Cœn. Cleanthes then was present, and he added —
Enter CLEANTHES.
But he appears in time to hear his charge.
Sosib. My dear, dear son! — [Aside.
I fear thy lavish tongue has ruined thee;
What can I do to save thee?
Cas. Well, proceed.
Cœn. Can you deny, my lord, that you were present,
When Cleomenes taxed the court, and king,
With brutal vices?
Clean. I remember somewhat
Of certain horses which he could not buy,
And saw thee go away dissatisfied;
Which to prevent, I meant to purchase them:
The rest I heard not, nor believe he spoke.
Cas. Cleanthes added further; that thou saidst —
Ptol. And we would know, ere tortures force it from thee.
Sosib. Now comes the fatal stroke. [Aside.
Cœn. He added further —
Clean. No, thou addest it all;
And I demand the combat.
Ptol. Let him speak.
Sosib. Think first, Cleanthes! Think before you hazard
Your life and honour in this bold appeal:
Somewhat you might have said, nay more, you ought,
Since I commanded you to be a spy
On Cleomenes’ acts and close designs.
Clean. The good old liar would preserve my life,
And I must steer his course. — [Aside.
I think — I further added — [To the King.
Ptol. ’Tis forgiven;
So wholly pardoned, that I will not hear it;
Good spies are useful, and must be encouraged.
