or, the
Royal Shepherd.


U4 U4v

Dramatis Perſonæ.


Ariſtomenes, Prince of the Meſſenians and Arcadians.

Ariſtor, Son to Ariſtomenes.

Alcander, a Principal Officer under Ariſtomenes.

Demagetus, Or the Royal Shepherd, Son to the Prince of Rhodes, under the Diſguiſe of a Shepherd call’d Climander.

Arcaſius, An old Lord, under the Habit of a Shepherd, Counſellor to Demagetus.

Anaxander, One of the Kings of Lacedemon (for they had always Two) and Leader of their Forces againſt Ariſtomenes.

Clarinthus, Chief Counſellor to Anaxander, a Lord of Sparta.

Clinias,A Shepherd keeping his Flock on the Plains of Meſſenia, cloſe to the Walls of Phærea, with other Shepherds.


Herminia, Daughter to Ariſtomenes.

Barina,Her Woman and Confident.

Amalintha, Daughter to Anaxander.

Phila, Her Woman and Confident.

Theata, and


Shepherdeſſes on the Plains of Meſſenia.

Soldiers, Officers, Guards, and Attendants, ſeveral Lords of the Spartan Council.

The general scenes are Ariſtomenes’s Camp near the Walls of Phærea; ſometimes the Town of Phærea, and ſometimes the Plains among the Shepherds.

U5r 297


Act I. Scene I.

A pleaſant Plain by a Wood-ſide; beyond it are ſeen, on one ſide, ſome of the Shepherds Hamlets; on the other (at a diſtance) the Walls of Phærea, a Garriſon of the Lacedemonians. Enter Climander meeting Arcaſius; both dreſt like Shepherds.


Haſt thou provided me a Horſe and Arms,

A Sword, Arcaſius, that when Time has freed me

From the ſevere Injunctions of a Father,

May fill my Hand, inſtead of this vile Hook,

And fit it for the Work, a Prince is born to?


Unwillingly, I have obey’d your Orders;

But, ’till to-morrow’s, and the next day’s Sun

Shall light the angry, and contentious World,

Your Promiſe to your Father is in Force;

As well as the Aſſurance, which you gave,

That in my Cuſtody theſe Arms ſhou’d reſt,

Until that fatal Time demands their Uſe.

Clim. U5v 298


Call it not Fatal; Oh! that ’twere arriv’d!

That Ariſtomenes, the Spartan Terrour,

Were leading me, this moment, bravely on

Through Dangers, equal to the Cauſe he fights for,

Preſerving theſe free Plains from foreign Bondage!

Though in the Strife this Body ſtrew’d the Ground,

To Fame, and Publick Good an early Victim.


O wretched Rhodes! Thy Ruin is pronounc’d,

And thou beneath th’impending Plagues may’ſt periſh;

Since He, whom Oracles appoint to Aid thee,

Thus wiſhes with his Own, to ſell Thy Safety,

For the raſh Praiſe of an intruding Warriour.


No more of Oracles!

Which oftner we fulfil by heedleſs Chance,

Than the vain Study to purſue their Meaning;

Which makes me baniſh, from my lab’ring Thoughts,

Thoſe Myſtick Words, which ſerve but to perplex them.


From Mine they will not part, nor ſhou’d from Yours;

Which to prevent, ev’n now I will repeat them:

The Iſle of Rhodes ſhall be of Peace bereft,

Unleſs it by the Heir thereof be left,

And that He wed, ere he returns agen,

The Beauteous Daughter of the Beſt of Men;

Whoſe U6r 299

Whoſe Father’s preſence there ſhall ſave the State,

And ſmooth the threatning Brow of angry Fate.


But, Who this Man, or, Where his Daughter is,

Was left in Darkneſs, to employ our Search:

Yet, in Obedience, Hither did I come

To feed a Flock, and mix with ſimple Swains;

Becauſe the Prieſts, who ſway in Princes Courts,

Declar’d, that perfect Innocence, and Virtue

Was to be found but in their lowly Rank,

And There, the Beſt of Men was to be ſought for.


’Tis True, they did; and therefore urg’d our Prince;

That ſlighting (in a Caſe of ſuch Importance)

The Pride of Titles, and of equal Birth,

You might eſpouſe One of theſe Rural Maids,

Whoſe Parents harmleſs Preſence in our Land

Might bring the Bleſſings of the Gods upon us;

And, leſt the Wards (which ſtill infeſt theſe Countries)

Shou’d tempt you from the Fates, and his Deſign,

How ſtrictly did He Charge it on your Duty,

That, ’till the Time, which now, Two Days muſt end,

You ſhou’d not leave theſe Plains, to ſeek the Camp!


Nor have I done it, as Thyſelf can witneſs;

But here have ſpent the long and lazy Hours,

Careleſly ſtretch’d beneath ſome Sylvan Shade,

And only ſent my Wiſhes to their Tents:

But ere the Battle (which is ſoon intended)

Shall U6v 300

Shall meet in glorious Tryal of their Right,

I will be there, and ſide with the Meſſenians.


Oh! that you wou’d not!

That firſt your Native Country might be ſerv’d,

Think on her Danger, and your Sovereign’s Will:

’Twas to the Reed, and not the wrangling Trumpet

He bid you liſten, to ſecure his Peace;

Nor have you look’d with Love, as he requir’d,

On any Shepherdeſs, tho’ ne’er ſo Fair,

Or born of Parents, harmleſs as their Flocks.

Low on my Knees, my Lord, let me prevail.

He Kneels.

That, when the Time, decreed you, do’s expire,

You will not proſecute this raſh Deſign;

But go with me yet farther on theſe Plains,

And ſeek to pleaſe your Father, and the Gods,

In ſuch ſafe, humble ways, as they direct us.


Nay, prithee, do not kneel; it grates my Nature: Raiſes him.

But truſt me, when we have ſubdued theſe Countries,

When Lacedemon’s Kings ſhall ſue for Peace,

And make great Ariſtomenes Returns

Agreeing to his Merits, and their Wrongs,

And I have gain’d ſuch Honour as becomes me;

Whate’er thou doſt requeſt ſhall be obſerv’d:

And tho’ my Soul finds ſuch vaſt diſproportion

Betwixt the Thoughts, with which ſhe is inſpir’d,

And thoſe, that lodge in theſe poor Country Maids;

Yet U7r 301

Yet ſhall my Duty o’er my Temper riſe,

I’ll truſt (like Others) only to my Eyes,

And think, that Women in Perfection are,

Tho ne’er ſo Ignorant, if Young and Fair,


Ha! [A Noiſe is heard of diſtant Drums.

Sure I hear the diſtant Sound of Drums.


Heav’n grant what I’ve been told, and kept ſo ſecret,

Of a Deſign this Day to end the War,

Be not a Truth too tempting for my Reaſons!

Enter frighted, Theata and Lamia, Shepherdeſſes.


Oh! may we here be ſafe, tell us Climander?

For all the Lawns, that lie beyond the Hill,

Where ſtill our Flocks were us’d to feed in peace,

Are fill’d with War, and dark with flying Arrows:

The Sheep diſperſe, whilſt none regard their Safety,

But call on Pan, to ſhield th’advent’rous Chief,

The noble Ariſtomenes from Danger.


Hear me, Arcaſius, hear and do not thwart me; Aſide to Arc.

Nor tye me to a few remaining Hours:

For, by the horrid Shield, that bears the Gorgon,

I Swear; if thou refuſe to arm me now

With what I ſent thee lately to provide,

Theſe Feet ſhall bear me ſandal’d to the Battle,

This flow’ry Wreath ſhall mix with their ſtern Helmets,

And Death I’ll take, if not impower’d to give it.

Arc. U7v 302


Oh! do not ask my Aid; but in this Tryal,

Call all your fainting Virtue to aſſiſt

And help you keep your Promiſe to your Father.


I did not Promiſe him to be a Coward,

To let the Sound of War thus ſtrike my Senſe,

Yet keep my Heart in a cool, even Temper.

Hark! this way comes the Noiſe, and I will meet it.

As he is going, a confus’d Noiſe and Cry is heard within.


They’re Cries of Grief, and not the Shouts of Battle.

I hope All’s paſt, leſt He and Rhodes ſhou’d periſh.

Enter meeting, Climander, Clinias, and other Shepherds.

1st Shep.

Ruin’d, Undone!

Clinias,[Speaker label not present in original source]

Let every Shepherd weep!

Turn their ſweet Harmony to Sighs and Groans!

To the fierce Wolves deliver up their Flocks,

And leave Meſſenia to the cruel Victor!


The Victor, Clinias! is the Fight then over?


It is, and We again the Slaves of Sparta.


Then Ariſtomenes muſt ſure be breathleſs,

And, if he’s Dead, fall’n in his Country’s Cauſe:

The Gods have giv’n Him Fame, whilſt We are Wretched.


Oh! He’s not Dead, but Living in their Power, Which, U8r 303

Which, ’tis believ’d, they’ll uſe with utmoſt Rigour:

Preſſing too far on the Auxiliary Troops,

The Foe ſurrounding bore him from his Horſe,

Then with the Thongs of their curs’d Cretan Bows

Bound his ſtrong Arms, and lead him off, in Triumph.


Convert, ye Powers, to Blood and Tears that Triumph!

Reſcue from their vile Hands the noble Prey,

And ſend him warmer Friends than Demagetus,


Who, knowing not his Perſon, lov’d his Valour!

O ill-tim’d Duty, how haſt thou betray’d me!

Where is Ariſtor? Where’s the brave Alcander?

To them.


The firſt may ſhare in his great Father’s Fate,

For ought, as yet, the Army can diſcover:

Alcander heads, but cannot lead them on,

And ’tis believ’d they quickly will forſake him;

Such cold Diſmay and Terrour had poſſeſs’d ’em!

Yet ere we part, forever part from hence,

(If ſo the cruel Tyrant ſhou’d Decree)

Let us appoint one ſad and ſolemn Meeting,

Where all the Enſigns of our former Mirth

May be defac’d and offer’d to His Praiſe,

That made our Nights ſecure, and bleſs’d our Days.

1st Shep. U8v 304

1st Shep.

So let it be!

Again, one Ev’ning on theſe Plains we’ll meet,

2d Shep.

But never tread them more with chearful Feet.
Exeunt Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes.


Cruel Arcaſius! How haſt thou undone me,

Charming me, with thy Tears, to this ſoft Circle,

Whilſt the bright Spirit, Honour is gone by,

And borne away on never-turning Pinions!

Why wou’d’ſt thou thus contrive againſt my Fame,

And rob my fiery Youth of this firſt War,

(For which it languiſh’d with a Lover’s Fondneſs)

By ſaying ſtill ’twou’d laſt, ’till Time had freed me?

But I will yet purſue it thro’ Deſpair,

And ſhare their Ruin, tho’ deny’d their Glory.

As he’s going Arc. kneels.


Yet, this laſt time, behold my bended Knees,

Which if you ſlight ſhall of the Gods implore

A haſty Death, to fall on old Arcaſius:

Nor think, this Poſture means to croſs your way;

For, by thoſe Powers I ſwear; if they will Fight

As much, we hear ’tis doubted by the Shepherds,

I will not ſue, to keep you from the Army,

Or bring on me your future Life’s Reproaches.

Let me obtain but This, for all my Service,

To be firſt ſent to ſound their Diſpoſition,

Which I’ll relate with Truth, and help your Purpoſe:

In this Attempt Two Hours will not be loſt;

Oh! give ſo much, to ſave his Life, that loves you.

Clim. X1r 305


Thou haſt obtain’d it, by thy promis’d Aid,

And my long Knowledge of the Truth that guides thee.

About it then, whilſt, in that ſhady Grove,

I with impatience wait for thy Return.


Which ſhall not be prolong’d, my Lord, believe me.
Exeunt ſeverally. Enter ſeveral Soldiers, running over the Stage, and throwing away their Arms.

1st Sold.

Away, away, haſte to the Woods for Shelter.

2d Sold.

Do they begin to ſally from the Town?

3d Sold.

I know not; look behind him, he that will.

Here lies my Way――

They run into the Wood. Enter more, doing as the former.

1st Sold.

Farewell the Wars! Oh! never ſuch a General!

2d Sold.

Never ſuch Sorrow! never ſuch a General!
Enter more.

2d Sold.

What, is the Army all diſpers’d, and broken!
To them.

3d Sold.

No, but the Wiſeſt of them do as We do.

Away, away――

X Enter X1v 306 Enter Alcander meeting them.


Why do ye fly my Friends, and caſt theſe from ye?

For ſhame! like Men, that once have known their Uſe,

Take ’em again, and wait, or ſeek the Foe.

3d Sold.

Seek ’em, for what?

We cannot find our General out amongſt ’em:

’Tis thought they’ve made ſure Work with him already;

And now you’d have us run upon their Swords.

We thank you, Captain. Come away, away!

Exit follow’d by ſome others.


Oh! yet my Fellow-Soldiers, ſtay and hear me;

Can ye ſo ſoon forget your Noble General,

Your Ariſtomenes, whoſe Courage fed ye,

And by whoſe Conduct, ye have ſlept ſecurely

In reach of Foes, that trebled ye in Number!

Can ye forget the Care, that heal’d your Wounds;

The Tongue, that prais’d them; or thoſe Liberal Hands,

That pour’d down Gold, faſter than they your\ Blood!

1st Sold.

No; were he but amongſt us, we’d Dye with him.

2d. Sold.

We are no Cowards, Captain, nor Ungrateful.

But, ſince they ſay, He’s Dead, What can we do?

Alcand. X2r 307


Go back, and keep a little while together;

At leaſt, ’till there are Tydings from the Town:

Then, if he lives, we may attempt his reſcue;

Or, if he’s Dead, in a moſt juſt deſpair

Burn their accurſt Phærea o’er their Heads,

And then diſperſe, when we’re ſo far reveng’d.

Do this my Friends; Come, come, I know you will:

You lov’d the General――

1st Sold.

Curs’d be He, that did not!

2d Sold.

We will go back, but ne’er ſhall ſee him more.

3d Sold.

Then we will Fight no more, that’s ſure enough.

4th Sold.

Howe’er, let’s follow the brave Captain here,

And ſtay, ’till we’re inform’d as he adviſes.


Come, I will march before you.

Take up your Arms and truſt, my Friends, to me:

Your Lives ſhall not be ſet on idle Hazards;

Loſe no more time, but let us join the Army.

They take up their Arms, and Exeunt. Enter Herminia and Barina, Diſguis’d like Shepherdeſſes.


Alas! Barina, whither wilt thou lead me?


To Safety, Madam, poor and humble Safety,

Which in thoſe Hamlets, now within our Sight,

The Shepherds find, with whom we may partake it.

X2 Herm. X2v 308


Thus far indeed thou’ſt brought me on to ſeek it,

Urging the Danger of a Virgin’s Honour,

When left defenceleſs to the Conqueror’s Will:

But doſt thou think, we may not thro’ theſe Woods

Find out ſome gloomy Cave to Men unknown,

And there expiring, ſleep ſecure for ever?


Why ſhou’d we Dye,

Since Ariſtomenes may yet be Living?


Oh! that thou had’ſt not nam’d him! ’Till we were lodg’d, where Grief She ſtarts and weeps.

Might have its Courſe; for now ’twill flow

And ſtop our farther Paſſage, barring the Sight

Which ſhou’d conduct our Steps.


It muſt not Madam, nor muſt you indulge it,

But put on chearful Looks to ſuit this Habit,

And make the World believe you what you ſeem.


I cannot do it. In the midſt of Sports

I ſhou’d forget the gay, fantaſtick Scene,

And drop theſe Tears, when Smiles were moſt expected.


Then ’tis in vain farther to ſeek for Shelter:

Let us return and wait in your Pavilion,

Till Anaxander ſhall command you thence

To ſerve the baſe Delight of ſome proud Spartan.


Oh! yet avert that Fate, ye angry Powers!

I yield, Barina; make me what thou wilt:

See, I no more am Sad, look on this Brow;

Canſt X3r 309

Canſt thou read there that I have loſt a Father,

The beſt, the fondeſt, and the deareſt Father?

Forgive the tender Thought, that breeds this Change;

I’ll weep it off, and ſmile again to pleaſe thee.


No; I’ll weep too, for his, that’s paſt,

And your approaching Ruin.


Alas! I had forgot, but now am Calm:

What muſt I do? indeed I will obſerve thee.


Then not far hence, conceal’d within this Grove

Wait my Return, who muſt go find the Shepherds,

And frame ſome Story; that when you appear,

Thro’ no Enquiries we become ſuſpected:

And in my abſence, be your Thoughts employ’d

To bend your Mind to what the Times require.


To Fate and thy Advice I will ſubmit,

Suit to my alter’d State my low Deſire;

My Fare be plain, and homely my Attire,

My Treſſes with a ſimple Fillet bind,

Face the hot Sun, and wither in the Wind;

In my parch’d Hand a rural Crook be found,

The Trees my Curtains, and my Bed the Ground:

That Fortune (who at Greatneſs aims her Blow)

When thus diſguis’d may not a Princeſs know.

Exeunt. X3
The X3v 310 The Scene changes to a Street in the Town of Phærea (the Lacedemonian Garriſon) a Rabble and many common Soldiers in the Street.

1ſt Sold.

All’s done, all’s done my Fellows.

We may now go home to our Wives, and our Shops.

1ſt Rabble.

Ay, that we may; we have caught him at laſt

That has been our Back-friend ſo long,

As one may ſay――

2d Sold.

Nay, I’ll be ſworn,

Thou ne’er look’d’ſt him in the Face:

But we ſhall have the toſſing, and the tumbling of him

Aſſoon as ever the ſowre-fac’d Senators

Have diſmiſs’d their Judgments upon him.

3d Rabble.

Ay, I’ll warrant ye, ſhall we;

Here, here he comes; bear back, bear back.

Ariſtomenes bound and guarded is conducted over the Stage, the Rabble crouding and following him with confus’d Cries and Shouts, Exeunt.
The Scene changed, diſcovers a Council-Chamber in Anaxander’s Palace: Anaxander, Clarinthus, and ſeveral Lords of Sparta.


Moſt happily, my Lords, we now are met,

To ſee thoſe Hands in ſervile Fetters ty’d

Which X4r 311

Which broke the Bondage of the proud Meſſenians,

Whom Sparta long had held in hard Subjection.

Ere yet their Captive General do’s appear,

Be it amongſt your ſelves, My Lords, reſolved

What Courſe will anſwer beſt our Ends upon them.

Speak you, Clarinthus, for’moſt of the Aſſembly;

And then, let ev’ry one add what he pleaſes.


Short be my Speech, and plain, as is the way

Which muſt ſecure what Lacedemon toils for:

Let him reſign that Country, kept by him

From the entire Subjection, to our Yoke;

Or let his ſpeedy Death deliver to Us

What his too active Life has long kept back.


What ſay the reſt?――

All the Sen.

All, all agree to this.


No middle Courſe can be of uſe to Sparta.


It is enough; Call for the Priſoner there.

A Lord.

Bring in the Pris’ner; ’tis the King’s Command.
Ariſtomenes is brought in by the Guard. Ariſtor in a Spartan Dreſs preſſes in amongſt the Croud, whilſt Phila appears at the Door.


At laſt, we ſee the Hero can be Conquer’d.
To Clar.


Not in his Looks; for they are haughty ſtill,

And ſo his Mind will prove, if I miſtake not.


That you, our Pris’ner now, of late our Foe, X4 Have X4v 312

Have urg’d that Country, where you rule in Chief,

To break our Yoke, and make Incurſions on us,

Since known to all, will juſtify our Sentence

Which is; That you ſhall meet the Death deſerv’d,

Unleſs to keep our Quiet for the future,

You bring again Meſſenia to our Sway,

Paying ſuch Tribute, as ſhall be impos’d

By Us, the Lords of that offenſive State.

This is the Choice, we kindly ſet before you,

And wiſh, that you wou’d take the ſafeſt Part.


Enſlave my Country, to ſecure my Life!

That Pow’r forbid it, under whoſe Protection

I’ve often fought her Battles with Succeſs,

And drove th’ ill-grounded War home to your Sparta!


He braves us in his Bond: then you wou’d Dye.


I do not ſay, I wou’d;

I am a Man, and Nature bars that ſaying:

Yet I dare Dye; no Spartan here, but knows it.

But ſince the Fates (whoſe Wills we beſt can read,

When thus unfolded in their dire Events)

Tell me by theſe vile Bonds I muſt ſubmit;

Propoſe the gentleſt Bargain you can make,

And if I find my Life bears equal Weight,

I am content to take it, elſe ’tis Yours.


’Tis not for Us to wave, or change our Terms,

Miſtaken Men, who think not of our Power,

And that we may command what we propoſe:

Since the firſt Sally, now, muſt take Poſſeſſion

Of X5r 313

Of what your frighted Rout will ſoon abandon.


My frighted Rout!

Ye baſely wrong with foul reproachful Names

Thoſe valiant Troops, which yet ye cannot Conquer:

For know, thou proud inſulting Anaxander,

There’s at their Head a reſolute young Man,

That will not ’bate thee in his ſtrict Account

One Sigh or Groan, thy Tortures or thy Dungeons

Shall wreſt in Dying from his Father’s Boſom.

Anaxander and the Senate talk among themſelves, whilſt Ariſtor comes forward upon the Stage.

But there he ſtands!

Aſide ſeeing Ariſtor.

Ariſtor thro’ that Spartan Dreſs I view,

And ne’er, till now, wiſh’d not to ſee my Son.

Protect him from their Knowledge, ſome kind Pow’r,

If Youth, or Virtue e’er engag’d your Pity!


Let it be ſo, and ſpeedily perform’d, Aloud.

For He’ll ne’er yield to what has been demanded.


You nam’d the Dungeon, with a Threaten too

Of ſwift Revenge, thinking to fright our Juſtice:

But we’ll take care, firſt, to perform our Part,

Then, venture what your daring Son can offer.

The Dungeon is his Sentence, thither bear him.


Not till this Hand has done a ſwifter Juſtice.
Draws and runs at Anax.


Ha! what means this, my Guards!
He avoids the thruſt: Phila runs in. Phila. X5v 314


Help, Soldiers, help; ſeize that diſtracted Spartan,

Who now has got a Sword; Diſarm, and take him.

They diſarm him.


’Tis falſe; ſtand off, ye Slaves, and know I am――


Oh! ſtop his Mouth; for if he raves, he Dyes.
They ſtop his Mouth with a Handkerchief.


As ſure as now he Lives, had he ſpoke more Aſide.

Therefore be bleſt the Stratagem that ſtopt him!


What means this, Phila; ſpeak, Who is this Madman?


One by a Friend entruſted to my Care,

Sent from the Country here to find a Cure;

But hearing, as the Croud paſs’d by his Lodgings,

That Ariſtomenes wou’d ſoon be Sentenc’d,

He broke his Ward, and fancy’d He muſt ſave him.

I have purſu’d him, ’till I’m faint with Crying,

And am confounded at his frantick Paſſion.

Oh! Royal Sir, forgive it――


We do, and pity him: remove him hence,

Then, to thy Miſtreſs, my dear Daughter, Go

And ſay we now again ſhall ſoon ſee Sparta.


I ſhall, my Lord!

Now follow me, I’ll lead ye to his Lodgings.

[To the Guards. Exit Phila with the Guards bearing off Ariſtor. Ariſtom. X6r 315


Whoe’er ſhe be,

May Heaven reward her, if ſhe means his Safety.


Now I can meditate on my own Fortunes,

And ſlight the worſt can reach me.


He’s deep in Thought, which may produce a Change.

Again I’ll try him――

To Clar.

Now, Ariſtomenes, that this wild Chance

Has given you time to think upon our Sentence,

Have you enough conſider’d of it’s Horror,

To bend your ſtubborn Will to our Demands?


Yes, Anaxander, I have weigh’d it well:

That active Faculty, which we call Phancy,

Soon as you ſpoke, dragg’d me thus bound by Slaves

Thro’ the throng’d Streets, exciting ſeveral Paſſions;

The Barb’rous Croud ſhouted their clamorous Joy,

Becauſe unpuniſh’d they might ſport with Blood;

Old Men and Matrons, deſtin’d long for Death,

With envious Pleaſure ſaw me forc’d before them

To tread that Path, in ſpight of vigorous Nature,

Whilſt tender Virgins turn’d aſide their Heads,

And dropt, in Silence, the ſoft Tears of Pity:

But, Oh! the Soldiers; from the Soldier’s hands

Methoughts I ſaw their Swords neglected thrown,

When Fortune ſhew’d they cou’d not ſave the Braveſt

(If once ſhe frown’d) from ſuch a Fate as mine.


He’ll move the Croud; urge him to ſpeak directly.
Anax. X6v 316


All this is from the purpoſe; plainly tell

Whether you’ll meet our Mercy, or the Dungeon.


My Train of Thoughts to that dark Cave had led me;

I ſtood reclin’d upon the horrid Brim,

And gaz’d into it, ’till my baffl’d Sight

Piercing beyond the many jetting Rocks

That help to break by turns the falling Body,

Was loſt in Shades, where it muſt reſt for-ever:

And ready now to be puſh’d rudely off,

This was my laſt, and beſt Reflection on it,

That there dwelt Peace, which is not to be found

In his dark Boſom, that has ſold his Country.


Away with him to inſtant Tryal of it:

See this obey’d, and plunge him headlong down;

There, he’ll have Time, if Life, for ſuch fine Thoughts.

Away, and bring me word it is perform’d.

Exeunt Anax. and Lords. Ariſtomenes born off.

Rabble and Sold.

Away, away; the Dungeon, the Dungeon.

Peace and Proſperity to Lacedemon!

Exeunt. Act
X7r 317

Act II. Scene I.

A Room in the Palace. Ariſtor alone.


I’ve torn with Cries the Roof of this vile Manſion,

And from that Window, barr’d too cloſely up

To give me leave to leap upon their Heads,

Have curs’d the Croud, and told ’em whoſe I am:

At which they laugh, and cry ’tis Phila’s Madman.

He attempts but cannot force the Door.

Confuſion! that ſhe dares confine me thus!

Whilſt my free Thoughts, unfollow’d by my Hand,

Muſt ſee that curſed Deed, they can’t prevent.

Oh! Ariſtomenes, my noble Father!

Hear me, ye Fates, and let me but Revenge him;

Give me Revenge; and now, methinks, I graſp it,

Broke thro’ his Guards, I ſeize upon the Tyrant,

And ſtab him thus, and thus――

He acts all this.

Then bear him to the Ground, thus falling on him,

And to his Heart thus tearing my wide way.

Oh! O’,O’,O’,――

Throws himſelf upon the Ground. Enter Amalintha, the Door by one without immediately lock’d after her.


Where is this wretched Mourner?

Oh! let me find him, tho’ to raiſe his Sorrows

With X7v 318

With the ſad Sound of my repeated Groans.

Ha! on the Ground! then be it too my Seat!

Sits on the Ground by him.

For I will ſhare in this Exceſs of Grief,

As well as in the Days of milder Fortune,

I bore a part in Love, that knew no Meaſure.

O Ariſtomenes! oh! my Ariſtor!

She puts her Handkerchief before her Eyes weeping.


Whoe’er thou art, repeat again that Sound:

Such Groans ſhall hourly iſſue from his Dungeon,

And fright the bloody Spartans into Madneſs.

He looks up.

Ha! ſure I ſhou’d know that Form, that Shape, thoſe Limbs,

That lab’ring Boſom, and thoſe Locks diſhevel’d:

But take not from thy Face that friendly Cloud;

Do not expoſe it, leſt thro’ all it’s Charms

My deep Revenge find out whoſe Stamp it bears,

And urge me on to ſomething Dark and Fatal.


This from Ariſtor! this to Amalintha!
She riſes and ſhews her Face.


Why wou’d’ſt thou tempt me thus advent’rous Maid,

And bring the Blood of Anaxander near me?

Coming up fiercely to her.

Canſt thou too fondly think, that Love’s ſoft Bands,

His gentle Cords of Hyacinths and Roſes,

Wove in the dewy Spring, when Storms are ſilent,

Can tye theſe Hands, provok’d by horrid Murther!

Oh X8r 319
Oh! do not truſt it――

But fly this Ground, while I have Power to bid thee.


Ariſtor, no; my Flight ſhall not preſerve me:

The Life, I’ve kept but to indulge your Love,

Now to this loud, miſtaken Rage I offer.

Take it, Oh! take it; Means cannot be wanting,

Altho’ no Inſtrument of Death be near you:

This Hair, theſe flatter’d Locks, theſe once-lov’d Treſſes

Round my ſad Neck thus knit will ſoon perform it;

Or, on theſe trembling Lips your Hand but preſt

Will ſend the riſing Breath down to my Heart,

And break it, telling who deny’d it Paſſage.


Tryal beyond the Strength of Man and Lover!


Or, if you wou’d be quicker in Diſpatch,

Speak but a few ſuch Words, as now you utter’d,

And my poor hov’ring Soul will fly before ’em.

Farewel Ariſtor, ſee! the Work is done:

I did but think I heard their killing Sound,

And the bare Fancy ſaves you farther Study.

She faints, he catches her in his Arms.


Oh! ſtop the glorious Fugitive a moment;

And I will whiſper to it ſuch Repentance,

Such Love, ſuch Fondneſs, ſuch unheard-of Paſſion,

As ſhall confine it to it’s beauteous Manſion.

Thus let me hug, and preſs thee into Life,

And lend thee Motion from my beating Heart,

To X8v 320

To ſet again the Springs of thine in working.


I hear your Summons, and my Life returns:

But tell me, ere again ſo firm ’tis fixt

That it muſt coſt an Agony like this,

To let it out to Liberty and Eaſe,

Will you not hate me for my Father’s Guilt?


By the ſoft Fires of Love, that fill my Breaſt,

And dart through all the Horrors of my Soul,

Like Heaven’s bright Flaſhes in a Night of Shadows,

I will not hate, or e’er reproach thee more:

Yet let me breathe ſo gently one Complaint,

So gently, that it may not break thy Peace,

Tho’ it for ever has diſcarded mine,

And ask, why you thus cruelly wou’d uſe me,

Why, have me ſeiz’d, and bound with frantick Fetters,

Snatch’d from my Duty by a Woman’s wile,

And here confin’d, whilſt my great Father periſh’d?


’Twas none of mine, by your dear ſelf I ſwear;

It was the Fates deſign and Phila’s action:

She ſaw you thus diſguis’d amongſt the Croud,

And, ere ſhe would acquaint me with your Danger,

Follow’d to watch the means how to prevent it.


I will believe you to my Heart’s relief,

Which muſt have broke, had your Conſent been with her.

But, Y1r 321

But, Amalintha, now my Rage is gone,

And Love thro’ this miſtake has forc’d his way,

It ſpreads before my Thoughts the gaudy Scene

Of thoſe Delights, which have been once allow’d it;

Brings to my Phancy in their ſofteſt Dreſs

The gentle Hours, that told our Private Meetings;

Shews me the Grove, where, by the Moon’s pale Light

We’ve breathd out tender Sighs, ’till coming Day

Has drawn them deeper, warning us to part,

Which ne’er we did, ’till ſome new Time was ſet

For the return of thoſe tranſporting Pleaſures.


And ſo again, Ariſtor, we’ll contrive,

And ſo again, we’ll meet, and ſigh, and love.


Oh! O’,O’,――Amalintha!


Oh! why that Groan, that deep, that deathlike Groan!


When Soul and Body part, it can’t be ſofter;

And I muſt leave thee, Soul to ſad Ariſtor,

With all thoſe Pleaſures which I but repeated,

As Dying Friends will catch one laſt Embrace

Of what they know, they muſt forego forever.


Indeed, you’ve call’d my wand’ring Fancy back

From thoſe Delights, where ’twou’d have endleſs ſtray’d:

But, my Aristor! (for I’ll call you mine,

Though all the Stars combine againſt my Title,

And bar fulfilling of the Vows they’ve witneſs’d)

Y Tell Y1v 322

Tell me, tho’ we muſt ne’er in Nuptials join,

May we not meet, and at this diſtance ſigh?

And when I’ve hoarded up a Stock of Tears,

Which in the Spartan’s fight I dare not laviſh,

Oh! tell me, if I may not ſeek you out,

And in large Showers thus pour them down before you?

She weeps.


Ceaſe to oppreſs me more; thou weeping Beauty,

And think with what vaſt Storms my Soul is toſs’d!

Comes up to hear earnestly.

Think too, that but to gaze upon thee thus,

To ſtand in reach of thy Ambroſial Breath,

And hear thy Voice, ſweet as the Ev’ning Notes,

When in ſtill Shades the Shepherds ſooth their Loves,

I wou’d not mind an Army in my way,

Or ſtop at raging Seas, or brazen Towers.

Yet, Amalintha, tho’ I Dye to ſpeak it,

Yet, we muſt part, we muſt, my Amalintha!


Never to meet agen? Tell me but that.


Alas! not I, the Fates can only tell it:

Let them make even one Account betwixt us,

And we’ll in ſpight of vengeful Thunder join,

If then, thy Heart be as reſolv’d as mine.


No: on thoſe Terms you mean, we muſt not meet:

But ſince thoſe Fates deny it to your Power,

The Y2r 323

The Will I to your mighty Wrongs forgive,

From without the Door.


Madam, you’ll be ſurpriz’d; haſte to return:

Your Father’s now juſt going to your Lodgings.


All Plagues and Curſes meet him!


Oh! then I muſt be gone.

A little time will call the State to Council;

And when the Croud by that is thither drawn,

One I will ſend to wait on your Eſcape:

And if you tempt new Dangers, know Aristor

That Amalintha too will periſh in them.


Fear not, my Love.


Haſte, Madam, haſte, or we are all Undone.
From without.


So from his few ſhort Moments calls away

A gaſping Wretch, the cruel Bird of Prey;

Bids him make haſte th’ Eternal Shades to find,

And leave like me, all that is Dear behind.


Whilſt, like the Friend that’s ſadly weeping by,

I ſee the much lov’d Spirit from me fly;

And with vain Cries purſue it to that Coaſt,

Where it muſt land, and my weak Hopes be loſt.

He leads her to the Door, and returns ſpeaking as he’s going out at the Other.

Now, let Revenge awhile ſuſtain my Heart,

And Fate yet cloſe my Life with ſome exalted Part!

Exit. Y2 The Y2v 324
The Stage darken’d repreſents the Inſide of a Dungeon, Ariſtomenes lying down in it, and ſtruggling as coming out of a Swoon.


At laſt ’tis vanquiſh’d; and my ſoaring Spirits

Diſpel the gloomy Vapours, that oppreſs’d them,

And cloath’d my Dreams with more than mortal Horrour.

So low in my deep Phancy was I plung’d,

That o’er my Head impetuous Rivers ruſh’d,

And Mountains grew betwixt our World and me:

Hungry and Cold, methought I wander’d on

Thro’ fruitleſs Plains, that Food nor Comfort nouriſh’d,

’Till hideous Serpents twiſted me about,

And drew me to their Den all foul and loathſome;

But I will quit the Bed, that breeds ſuch Viſions,

And ſummon all my Officers to Council;

For with to-morrow’s Dawn we’ll ſtorm Phærea.

He walks about feeling for the Door.

Ha! where’s the Door, my Tent is ſure transform’d,

And all I touch is Rock that ſtreams with Dew.

Oh! that I’d ſlept, that I had ſlept for ever!

He ſtarts.

Yes, Anaxander, yes! thou worſt of Furies!

I know thy Dungeon now, and my dark Ruin:

Yet why, ye Fates, ſince fall’n below your Succour,

Wou’d Y3r 325

Wou’d ye thus cruelly reſtore my Senſes,

To make me count my Woes by tedious Moments,

Dye o’er again, choak’d by unwholſome Damps,

Parch’d up with Thirſt, or clung with pining Hunger,

Borne piecemeal to the Holes of lurking Adders,

Or mould’ring to this Earth, where thus I caſt me?

Throws himſelf on the Ground. Muſick is heard without the Scene, after it has play’d awhile and ceaſes, He ſpeaks.

How, Harmony! nay then the Fiends deride me:

For who, but they, can ſtrike Earth’s ſounding Entrails,

Or with low Winds thus fill her tuneful Pores?

Oh! that ſome Words of horrid Senſe wou’d join it,

To tell me where I might conclude my Sorrows!

A Voice within Sings.

1st Voice.

Fallen Wretch! make haſte, and Dye!

To that laſt Aſylum fly,

Where no anxious Drops of Care,

Where no ſighing Sorrows are,

Friends or Fortune none deplore,

None are Rich, and none are Poor,

Nor can Fate oppreſs them more.

To this laſt Aſylum fly,

Fallen Wretch! make haſte and Dye!

The Voice ceaſes. Y3 Ariſtom. Y3v 326


Thou counſell’ſt rightly; ſhow me but the way,

And with the Speed thou urgeſt I’ll obey thee.

He riſes. The Voice Sings again.

1st Voice.

A pointed Rock with little pains

Will ſplit the Circle of thy Brains.

To thy Freedom I perſuade thee,

To a wat’ry Pit will lead thee,

Which has no glorious Sun-beam ſeen,

No Footſteep known, or bord’ring Green,

For thouſand rolling Ages paſt.

Fallen Wretch! to this make haſte,

To this laſt Aſylum fly.

Fallen Wretch! make haſte and Dye!


I come, thou kind Provoker of Deſpair,

Which ſtill is neareſt Cure, when at the Higheſt.

I come, I come――

Going towards the Voice, another Sings at the other ſide, upon which He ſtops and liſtens.

2d Voice.

Stay, oh! ſtay; ’tis all Deluſion,

And wou’d breed thee more Confuſion.

I, thy better Genius, move thee,

I, that guard, and I, that love thee;

I, who in thy rocky way,

Cloth’d in Eagles Feathers lay,

And in ſafety brought thee down,

Where none living e’er was known.

Chearful Hope I bring thee now,

Chearful Hope the Gods allow.

Mortal Y4r 327

Mortal, on their Pleaſures wait,

Nor ruſh into the Arms of Fate.

The Voice ceaſes.


To hope, is ſtill the Temper of the Brave:

And tho’ a juſt Deſpair had diſpoſſeſs’d it,

Yet, thus encourag’d, will I truſt the Gods

With thoſe few Moments, Nature has to ſpare me;

Nor follow thee, thou bad perſuading Spirit.

Yet tell me, who thou art, and why thou tempt’ſt me?

1ſt Voice.

I thy evil Genius am,

To Phærea with thee came;

Hung o’er thee in the murd’ring Croud,

And clapp’d my dusky Wings aloud;

Now endeavour’d to deceive thee,

And will never, never, leave thee.

2d Voice.

I’ll protect him from thy Pow’r.

1ſt Voice.

I ſhall find a careleſs Hour.

2d Voice.

Laurels He again ſhall wear,

War and Honour’s Trumpet hear.

1ſt Voice.

For one fatal, famous Day,

He his deareſt Blood ſhall pay.

Hear it ye repeating Stones,

And confirm it by your Groans!

A diſmal Groan is heard round the Dungeon.


What all this Bellowing for a Conqueror’s Death! Y4 The Y4v 328

The Field of Honour is his Bed of Eaſe;

He toils for’t all the Day of his hard Life,

And lays him there at Night, renown’d and happy:

Therefore this Threat was vain malicious Fury.

1ſt Voice.

Now away, away I fly;

For hated Good is ruſhing by.

Here the Voice ceaſes quite. A machine, like a Fox, runs about the Dungeon ſmelling, and ruſhes againſt Ariſtomenes, who taking it for his evil Genius, catches at it, and ſpeaks.


What! haſt thou Subſtance too, and dar’ſt aſſault me!

Nay then, thou ſhalt not ’ſcape; I’ll ſeize and grapple with thee,

And by my conqu’ring Arm o’ercome thy Influence.

Fool that I was! to think, it cou’d be vanquiſht.

This is ſome rav’ning Beaſt; the Fur betrays it;

A Fox, I think, teach me to be as ſubtle,

Extremity, thou Mother of Invention!

He catches it.

I have it now; and where it leads, will follow.

My better Genius do’s this Hour preſide:

Be ſtrong that Influence, and thou my Guide.

Exit. led out by the Fox.
The Scene changes to the Plains by the Woodſide. Enter from the Wood Herminia alone and faint.


Here ’twas ſhe left me; but ſo far I’ve ſtray’d,

Unheeding every thing, but my ſad Thoughts,

That Y5r 329

That my faint Limbs no longer can ſupport me.

Oh! let me reſt; and if ’tis Death I feel,

A Gueſt more welcome none yet entertain’d.

She ſits down, leaning againſt a Tree. Enter Climander looking towards the Camp, as expecting the return of Arcaſius.


He has exceeded much the time prefixt;

And yet, I wou’d not doubt him:

I’ve climb’d the Hill, better to view the Camp;

And all are fixt, and motionleſs as Death.

Therefore awhile I will command my Patience:

He cannot now be long―― He turns and ſees Herm. and gazes earneſtly on her. ――Ha! Who lies there?

A lovely Shepherdeſs; but faint ſhe ſeems.

Say, beauteous Maid, if ſo much Strength is left,

How beſt a Stranger, may aſſiſt, or ſerve you!

He kneels down by her.

She do’s not ſpeak; but looks into my Heart,

And melts it to the ſoftneſs of her Eyes.

Hard by, a Spring clear as the Tears ſhe drops,

Runs bubbling under a delicious Shade:

Water, thence fetch’d in a Pomegranate’s rind,

May call her fainting Spirits to their office.

He goes out.


He’s gone, but quickly will return again;

Yet he’s ſo gentle ſure I need not fear him:

Tho’ at his firſt approach my Heart beat high,

’Till Halcyon ſounds, and words of Pity calm’d it;

Nay, ſomething courtly in them was imply’d:

And if the Swains are poliſh’d, all like him,

Their humble Sheds may ſcorn our ruder Greatneſs.

Enter Y5v 330 Enter again Climander with Water in a Pomegranate- Shell.


Pan! if thou e’er did’ſt hear a Shepherd’s Prayer,

Endue this Water, ſacred to thy Name,

With all the Vertues, needful to reſtore her.

She drinks.


Your Pray’r is heard; kind Shepherd take my Thanks,

And He, whom you invok’d, reward you largely!


Oh! You may far outdo all He can grant,

In but declaring where you feed your Flocks,

And to what Shade, when Phœbus hotteſt ſhines,

You lead thoſe happy Sheep, to ’ſcape his Fury;

That I, expoſing mine to the wide Plains,

May ſeek you out, and ſigh till Night before you.


Alas! I have no Flocks, or Skill to guide them;

No leafy Hamlet, ſtrew’d with painted Flowers;

Or moſſy Pillow, to repoſe my Head:

But wander from a diſtant, fatal Place,

Where I have loſt my Parents, and my Succour,

And now, in ſuch a Habit as becomes it,

Seek the low Plains, to learn the Art you practiſe.


She may be Noble then; and for her Form,

’Tis ſure the faireſt that my Eyes e’er fix’d on.


Who were your Parents, gentle Maid, declare?


They were not mean, and yet I muſt conceal them:

My Mother early Dy’d; but Fame has told me,

She’d Y6r 331

She’d all Perfections, which make other Proud,

Yet wore them, as ſhe knew not they adorn’d her.

And be, in this, my Father’s Praiſe expreſt:

That by an Oracle He was confeſt

Of all the Race of Men to be the Beſt.


The Beſt of Men! and you the Faireſt Woman!

And in a Moment I the greateſt Lover!

He ſpeaks this tranſportedly and ſeizes her Hand, which he kiſſes.

Whilſt to complete my Bliſs, by Heav’ns decree

Theſe Beauties all are mine, and thus I claim them.


Protect me all ye Powers, that wait on Virtue,

From the dark Ends of ſuch unruly Tranſports!

She takes her Hand away haſtily and riſes.

Nor dare, preſumptuous Swain, once to renew them,

Or tempt more Dangers than a Crook can anſwer!


A Man there lives not, ſhou’d have urg’d that to me,

Built round with Steel, or plung’d all o’er in Styx.

Then, let your Beauty’s Triumphs be complete,

Which, after ſuch a Threat, can bend my Knee,

And make me ſue for Pardon, as for Life.


I can forgive, whilſt I forbid ſuch Language;

Since She, who yields to have her Beauty worſhipp’d,

Muſt pay too much to him, that brings the Incenſe.


To Me you cannot, ’tis a Debt to Fate.

Your Heart is mine; the amorous Stars ordain it,

Which ſmiling, hung o’er my auſpicious Birth,

And Y6v 332

And not an angry Planet croſs’d their Influence:

They bid me Love, and the Harmonious God

When askt, what Path ſhou’d lead me on to Glory,

Sent forth a Sound, that charm’d the hoary Prieſt,

And ſaid, a Paſſion, ſoft as that, muſt bleſs me.

Then, do not ſtrive to diſappoint their Purpoſe,

Or quench Celeſtial Flames with Scorn or Coldneſs.

Oh! that a Smile might tell me, that you wou’d not,

A gentle Word, a Look, a Sigh confirm it,

Or any ſign, that bears the ſtamp of Love!

But ’tis in vain, and ſome more happy Youth

Has drawn my Lot, and mock’d foretelling Phœbus.


I muſt not leave you with a Thought that wrongs me:

For know, no Paſſion e’er poſſeſs’d this Breaſt,

Nor will the mighty Griefs, that now have ſeiz’d it,

E’er yield to give a ſofter Gueſt admittance.

But my Companion comes; Shepherd farewell!

When next we meet, if Heav’n that Moment ſends,

For your Aſſiſtance lent, we may be Friends.


Heav’n can’t be true, if it no more affords,

Nor Oracles explain themſelves by Words.

Let talking Age the Joys of Friendſhip prove,

Beauty for Youth was made, and Youth alone for Love.

Exeunt ſeverally.
Act. Y7r 333

Act III. Scene I.

A Myrtle-Grove with a Fountain belonging to Anaxander’s Palace. Enter Amalintha and Phila.


Why had not I a barb’rous Spartan Soul,

Unapt for Love, and harſh, as our rude Cuſtoms!

Or why, ye cruel Fates! did you deny

My Birth to be among the neighb’ring Swains,

Where, on the flow’ry Banks of ſmooth Paniſus

I might have ſat, and heard the gentle Vows

Of ſome proteſting Shepherd, uncontroul’d!


’Twas on thoſe fatal Plains, I well remember,

That firſt your Eyes encounter’d with Ariſtor’s.


Yes, in a Chace we met, when Truce allow’d it,

Where the young Prince, whom I too much had mark’d

Thro’ all the graceful Toils of that bleſt Day,

Redeem’d my Life, with Hazard of his own,

From the chaſ’d Boar, that now had almoſt ſeiz’d me.


When I arriv’d the firſt of all your Train,

I heard you thank him for the gen’rous Reſcue.


I did; yes Phila, with my Heart I thank’d him,

And paid if down a Ranſom for my Life:

Since Y7v 334

Since when, how often in this Place we’ve met,

And with what Pleaſure, thou alone can’ſt tell,

The only Friend, and witneſs of our Paſſion.

But, prithee go, and keep off all Intruders,

Exit Phila..

Whilſt with my Sorrows now I tread this Grove,

Which ſhou’d not thrive, when all our Hopes are blaſted.

She walks into the Grove. From the other Door, the Fox runs over the Stage, follow’d ſoon after by Ariſtomenes, his Hands foul with Earth.


Farewell my wild Companion, and my Leader! Pointing to the Fox.

Henceforth thy figure, in my Enſigns borne,

Shall tell the World (if e’er I ’ſcape theſe Walls)

That ’twas thy Conduct drew me from my Bondage.

How fair this Grove appears to my loath’d Dungeon!

He ſees the Fountain.

Oh! welcome to my Sight, thou gentle Spring!

Ne’er did’ſt thou cool a Thirſt, that rag’d like mine.

I bow my Knees upon thy moſſy Brim,

He kneels and lays his Mouth to the Stream.

And, as they drank, ere Art had worſted Nature,

Draw thy refreſhing Stream to my ſcorch’d Entrails.

Drinks agen.

Again, O Nectar, moſt delicious!

This favour more, and then I quit thy Borders.

Waſhes the Earth off his Hands, and riſes. Re-enter Amalintha.


Oh! ’tis all diſmal, now that Love is abſent,

Faded the Flow’rs, and with’ring ev’ry Branch:

Whilſt Y8r 335

Whilſt thro’ the Leaves the ſad, and ſighing Winds,

Methinks, all ſay, the Hours of Bliſs are paſt;

And here, we ne’er ſhall meet each other more.

Ariſtom. comes towards her.

Ha! what Intruder do my Eyes behold?

A Stranger, and invade my private Walks,

The Doors too all ſecur’d! Tell how you came.


As comes the Mole, by painful working upwards,

Till the ſweet Air beat on my clammy Brows.


There’s ſomething myſtical in what you utter;

Which (tho’ offended with your Preſence here)

I wou’d be glad farther to have Unriddl’d.

Draws her Dagger.

This be my Guard; and now you may proceed,

And, if you dare, diſcover who you are.


I’d not deny my Name, to ’ſcape that Dungeon, Pointing behind the Scenes.

From whence theſe Hands have dug my way to Light.

’Tis Ariſtomenes that ſtands before you.


O bleſt and ſtrange Surprize!


Now, if you have a Soul for noble Deeds,

As ’tis reported of you Spartan Ladies,

By my Eſcape your Fame ſhall riſe ſo high,

That ne’er an ancient Heroes ſhall outſoar it:

If not, I know the Place from whence I came,

And ’twill be told with more uncommon Things,

Which ſhall make up the Story of my Fortunes,

That I alone liv’d to be there twice Bury’d.

She looks about. Nay, Y8v 336

Nay, look not round; for if you fear you wrong me,

I wou’d not injure you, to gain my Safety.


Nor wou’d I fail to help you to ſecure it,

For all that Lacedemon holds moſt Precious.

I gaz’d about, leſt any were in ſight,

That might prevent my dear Deſign to ſave you.

Support me, as I walk, like one that ſerv’d me,

And when they have unlock’d that Poſtern-door,

I’ll give you ſome Command before the Guard,

Which to perform they ſhall admit your Paſſage:

Or this muſt force it, if your evil Stars

Gives him her Dagger.

Have plac’d ſuch there, as know and wou’d detain you.


As long as Life, I’ll proudly wear this Favour.


Oh! haſte, my Lord, loſe not this precious moment.


No, ſtay; and ere I take one ſtep tow’rds Freedom,

Let me be told, to whoſe bleſt Aid I owe it;

And how I may diſcharge ſo vaſt a Debt:

Tho’ I, and all that’s dear to me ſhou’d periſh,

I wou’d not ſtir, ’till ſatisfy’d in this.


Know then, my Lord――

Tho’ whilſt I ſpeak, I tremble for your Danger,

That to declare my Name, might work my Ruin:

But ſince ſuch Gratitude crowns your great Virtues,

I have a Bleſſing to implore from you,

When the full Time ſhall ripen and reveal it;

Harder, I fear, to grant, and much more dear

Than Z1r 337

Than what I now aſſiſt you to preſerve.


By Liberty, which none like me can value,

By new-recovered Light, and what it ſhews me,

Your brighter Form, with yet a fairer Mind,

By all the ties of Honour, here I ſwear;

Be that untouch’d, and your Requeſt is granted.


Of you, my Lord, and of the liſt’ning Gods

I ask no more――but, that you haſte to ’ſcape:

Without that Camp the open Champain lies.

May Fortune, which the hardeſt Part has done,

Crown her great Work, and lead you ſafely on!

Exit Ariſtom. leading her. Enter Phila weeping.


What ſhall I ſay, or how reveal this to her?

Is’t not enough, ye Gods, we bear our own,

That thus you ſuffer the vain trifler Love

To bring the Griefs of others too upon us!

Amalintha returns.


Oh! Phila, I ſuch Tydings have to tell thee,

But thou haſt chill’d them in a Moments ſpace

With that cold dew that trickles from thine Eyes.

Is not Ariſtor ſafe?――

Thou ſay’ſt he is not, in that weeping ſilence:

But lives he yet? if this thou do’ſt not anſwer,

My Death ſhall free thee from all farther Queſtions.

Z Phila. Z1v 338


Yet he do’s live:

But oh! that ſome free Tongue, that lov’d you leſs,

Cou’d tell how little time that Life muſt laſt

To you ſo precious, and I fear ſo fatal!


Go on; and if thou kill’ſt me with the Story,

Believe thou’ſt crown’d the Kindneſs of thy Life,

By giving endleſs Reſt to her that wants it.


I cannot ſpeak――


Then one, that can, I inſtantly muſt ſeek for.
Going out.


Publick Enquiry pulls his Ruin on her.

Stay, Madam, ſtay, and ſince it muſt be told,

Know that Ariſtor, ſoon as free to do it,

Again into your Father’s preſence ruſh’d,

And makes a new attempt upon his Perſon,

But miſs’d his Blow, was ſeiz’d, and in Confinement

Now waits but the aſſembling of the Council,

Throughly to be examin’d, and diſcover’d.


Darkneſs, and Night ſurround me.

With this Relief to my ſad Bed I go,

Siezes Phila’s Dagger.

There wrapt in horrid Shades will lay me down,

And, when thou com’ſt charg’d with the heavy News,

Beware, no tedious Circumſtance detain,

No fruitleſs Pray’r, or word of Comfort ’ſcape thee;

But with a Voice, ſuch as the Dying uſe,

Bid me expire―― ――Then to my Father go,

And Z2r 339

And ſay, he kill’d his Daughter in his Foe;

Who knowing, ſhe his Temper cou’d not move,

Th’exceſs of Hate paid with th’exceſs of Love.

Exit weeping and leaning on Phila.
The Scene changes to the Plains. Enter Climander.


All Patience this wou’d tire――

I will not wait the Trifler’s ſlow return,

But go my ſelf (tho’ thus unarm’d) amongſt them.

He is going and meets Arcaſius.

Art thou at length come back!

If ’twou’d not waſte more time to blame thy ſtay,

Old loit’ring Man! I ſhou’d reprove thee for it.


’Twas vain to move, ’till I had ſeen the utmoſt,


The utmoſt! What was that, will they not Fight?

Not Dye for ſuch a General!


My Lord, they will not――

Tho’ brave Alcander tries to urge their Fury,

And waſtes his own, to put new Life into them:

Sometimes he weeps, and throws his Helmet from him,

Kneels to his Troops, and wooes them to Compaſſion,

Which draws a gen’ral ſympathizing Show’r,

And makes him think, he has obtain’d his Purpoſe:

Then on his fiery Steed in haſte he leaps,

And cries, Come on; but not an Enſign waves,

Or any Motion ſeconds the Deſign.

Z2 The Z2v 340

The Meaner ſort cry out aloud for Pay,

And mutiny to be diſcharg’d the Service.


Baſe, mercenary Slaves! Yet theſe I’ll uſe:

The Gold and Jewels which my Father gave,

Will fire their Souls, inſenſible of Duty;

And by it’s aid, I’ll gain what moſt I thirſt for.

A King his Claim but to one Kingdom lays,

Wide as the Univerſe is boundleſs Praiſe.

This ſhining Maſs ſhall buy a glorious Name,

They purchaſe all the World, who purchaſe Fame.

He is going.


Since you’re determin’d to attempt theſe Dangers,

Let me declare the Time to be expir’d,

Which bound you in your Promiſe to your Father:

By Artifice I wrought you to believe

Thoſe Days remain’d, which are indeed run out.

Your Soul may now be free, and Heaven protect you!


For this diſcov’ry I’ll return another

Worthy thy knowledge, when we meet again:

But now make haſte, and from its deep concealment,

In the low Earth, fetch me the Wealth I mention’d.

About theſe Woods thy quick Return ſhall find me.

Exeunt. Enter Herminia and Barina.


See we are come to ſoon; I ſaid ’twou’d prove ſo.
Herm. Z3r 341


It is no matter, long we ſhall not wait. Bar. looks out for the Shepherds.

I dare not tell her, that I like this Shepherd,

Nor yet indeed ſcarce own it to my ſelf.

’Tis ſtrange, my Mind ſhou’d ſink thus with my Fortunes;

Yet he did talk above their humble ſtrain,

And, as he knew that Nature had ſupply’d

What Fortune had deny’d him for Attraction,

Claim’d my weak Heart, and ſaid he muſt poſſeſs it.


Sure, they’ve put off this melancholy Meeting

Deſign’d in Honour of their loſt Protector,

In which our ſhare (tho’ ſecret) muſt be greateſt.

I ſee none move, nor hear their mournful Notes.


Be not impatient: Where can we be better?

Have I not heard thee ſay ſometimes, Barina,

That in a Dream, form’d by the Day’s diſcourſe

Of the ſweet Life, that here they led in ſafety,

My Mother ſaw me wed one of theſe Swains,

And ſmil’d, tho’ I had made a Choice below me?


She did; and therefore never wou’d conſent

That you, like others, ſhou’d behold their Revels:

Nor have I, ſince her Death left you my Charge,

Allow’d it, till worſe Dangers forc’d us hither;

Tho’ of my ſelf, I ne’er obſerve ſuch Trifles,


D’ye call thoſe nightly Viſions then but Trifles?


No doubt our Dreams are ſo; the work of Phancy,

Where things of Yeſterday are odly piec’d

Z3 With Z3v 342

With what had paſs’d ſome twenty Years before,

Knit in a weak and diſproportion’d Chain,

Which cannot hold to lead us to the Future.

Whate’er I’ve ſaid, I wiſh this had no meaning,


And that ſome other Place cou’d give us ſhelter.


We’ll walk a while――

Great Ariſtomenes, now cou’d I meet thee!

But that’s a Bleſſing which I muſt not know,


’Till where thine is, my Spirit too ſhall go.

Oh! that my Grief wou’d force it to retire,

And Tears for him quench this new-kindl’d Fire!

They go off the Stage. Enter at the other Door Climander.


Either my Eyes, indulgent to my Love,

Deceive my Hopes; or now, within their reach

That unknown Beauty moves, which lately charm’d them.

’Tis ſhe! and with the ſpeed that ſuits my Paſſion,

I will o’ertake, and farther urge it to her.

Exit. Re-enter Herminia.


She fears my Fate, and fain wou’d have me go,

Before th’ aſſembling Shepherds are arriv’d;

And having met one that can give her tydings,

Is buſy to enquire about their coming.

Untimely Z4r 343

Untimely Caution!―― ――’Tis too late to move,

When once o’ertaken by the wings of Love.

Enter Climander behind her.


From thoſe fair Lips no ſooner fell that word,

But all the neighb’ring Ecchoes caught the Sound,

And ſent it doubl’d to Climander’s Boſom:

The am’rous Streams have borne it down their Banks,

And the glad Plains breathe nothing, ſince, but Love.

Oh! ſpeak it one again, and the fond Vine

Shall with a ſtricter graſp embrace the Elm,

Whilſt joyful Birds ſhall hail it from the Branches.


No; I have ſpoke too much――

Since on theſe Plains no ſyllable is ſecret,

Hereafter my cloſe Thoughts ſhall be confin’d,

And in this Breaſt lock’d up from all Men’s Knowledge.


Oh! not if Love be there; it cannot be:

Silence can ne’er laſt long, nor yet conceal it,

A thouſand ways ’twill ſpeak without a Voice,

And, whilſt it ſtruggles to obtain that Freedom,

Betraying Sighs will ’ſcape, and more declare it;

’Twill ſpeak in liſt’ning to the Lover’s Tale,

And ſay, ’tis Sympathy that makes it pleaſant.


He ſhakes my Soul, whilſt thus he do’s deſcribe it:

For all he ſpeaks I feel, and he muſt find.

Aſide. Z4 Oh! Z4v 344

Oh! yet, let me reflect upon my Birth,

And quit, in time, the Ground I can’t maintain!

She’s going.


Nay, do not fly me, and I will be Speechleſs:

For if I ſpeak, whilſt on your Eyes I gaze,

It muſt be all of Love, and that offends you;

Yet ſince, perhaps, I ne’er may meet you more,

I wou’d have told the Story of my Heart,

And e’er it breaks, have mov’d you to compaſſion.


Meet him no more! then, what can Crowns afford me,

Amidſt the noiſie Pomp, that waits their Luſtre?

Still ſhou’d I vainly liſten for the Sound


Of ſuch ſoft Words which charm my Sorrows from me.

Oh! that our Births were equal, as our Thoughts!

Yet I will pity him, and Fate be guilty.

She ſtops and turns towards him.


Bleſt be the Thought, that thus retards your ſteps,

And turns again thoſe gentle Lights upon me!

If Pity ’twas; Oh! yet indulge that warmth,

And Love ’twill ſoon produce, to meet my Wiſhes.

She looks kindly on him.

’Tis done, ’tis done! be witneſs ye ſtill Skies,

That all her Looks are calm, and ſmooth as yours,

And not one Frown forbids my forward Hopes:

Let this fair Hand be added to confirm them,

And eaſe the mighty longings of my Paſſion.

Kneels and kiſſes her Hand. Herm. Z5r 345


Take, freely take this firſt and laſt of Favours.

Now, Shepherd riſe, and hear what I’ve to ſay;

And if a Sigh mix with the fatal Sentence,

Believe, ’tis from the Grief, with which I give it.

You muſt not love me――

She ſighs.


I muſt not love you, tho’ you Sigh to ſpeak it!

Shou’d Pan pronounce it, in a Voice ſo loud

’Twou’d rive the knotty Oaks, that ſhade his Altars,

I wou’d to Syrinxes oppoſe your Beauties,

And ask the Gods, whoſe Loves had beſt Foundation?


Thoſe Gods, who made our Births ſo diſproportion’d,

Wou’d ſay, they ne’er deſign’d our Hands ſhou’d join.

But ſee! the Swains are gath’ring tow’rds this Place:

Yet, Shepherd, know, that if a Prince wou’d Love,

’Tis in your Form he muſt ſucceſsful prove.

Enter Arcaſius with a Casket.


Then in this happy Form, ſince you approve it,


She interrupts him.


No more! as you wou’d keep th’ Eſteem I’ve ſhown you.


Another time muſt tell this Secret to her.

Th’ Ambition of her Mind charms like her Perſon,

Aſide. Nor Z5v 346

Nor can the Blood, that bleeds ſuch Thoughts be abject .

But welcome good Arcaſius with that Bait,

Which ſhall be ſoon diſpers’d among the Soldiers:

And if it win them to my great Deſign,

’Tis worth the Kingdoms which its Price might ranſom.

Exeunt with the Casket follow’d by Arcaſius. Enter Theata and Lamia.


The Dews are falling, and the Sun declin’d,

Whilſt from this neighb’ring Grove are heard the Notes

Of that ſweet Bird, that warbles to the Night,

Now telling us her Shadows are approaching:

And yet the tardy Shepherds are not come.


When all our Hours were gay, it was not thus:

But who can haſte to break his chearful Pipe,

Tear the ſweet Garland, made by her he ſighs for,

And ſing of Death, when Love is all his Paſſion?


Now thou doſt talk of Love, yet ere we part,

Or fall into our melancholy Strains,

Lend to that Eccho, greedy of thy Voice,

Some moving Words, upon ſo ſoft a ſubject.


Rather that Song I’d chuſe, which do’s prefer

To all things elſe the Joys of theſe ſweet Plains;

Since, now perhaps, we muſt too ſoon forſake them.

Lamia. Z6r 347


A better can’t be choſe; haſte to perform it,

Leſt the ſad Ceremony break our purpoſe.

Theata,[Speaker label not present in original source]



She Sings.
A young Shepherd his Life

In ſoft Pleaſure ſtill leads,

Tunes his Voice to his Reed,

And makes Love in the Shades.

To be Great, to be Wiſe,

To be Rich, to be Proud,

To be loaded with Bus’neſs

Or loſt in a Croud,

He ne’er ſeeks, or deſires:

Let but Silvia be won,

He is Great, he is Rich,

And his Bus’neſs is done.


Whilſt their Nymphs are as happy,

As Happy as Fair;

For who has moſt Beauty,

Has of Lovers moſt ſhare.

Some will ſtay, ſome will fly,

Some be falſe, ſome be true:

For the Loſt we ne’er grieve,

But ſtill cheriſh the New.


’Tis vain of their Frailties,

Or Falſhoods to mind ’em:

Mankind we muſt take,

We muſt take, as we find ’em.

Thealta. Z6v 348


What Shouts are theſe!


They’re loud, and ſpeak ſome Joy; and ſtill repeated.
Enter Herminia and Barina.


Fair Stranger, know you whence theſe Shouts proceed?


I do not; but theſe coming, ſure, can tell us.
Enter with great Signs of Joy Clinias with other Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes, &c.


Swell, ſwell, Paniſus, o’er thy ſpacious Bounds,

Flow like our Joy, and chear the Meads about thee.

Pan, take in thankful Sacrifice; our Flocks,

And ev’ry rural Swain proclaim his Praiſes!


Such Sounds, as theſe, meet with a gen’ral welcome:

But yet, the Cauſe we wiſh to hear explain’d.

Good Clinias, tell the Cauſe――


He is return’d, and ſtands, like Fate, amongſt ’em,

The Plain’s Protector, and the Army’s Genius,

The Virgin’s Refuge, when the Town’s in Flames,

And Shield to thoſe whom Fortune makes his Vaſſals.


’Tis Ariſtomenes thou haſt deſcrib’d:

No other e’er cou’d fill a Praiſe like this.


’Tis He indeed, next to the Gods, our Succour.


Tranſporting News! how did the Army meet him?
Clin. Z7r 349


Juſt as a long ſtopt Current meets the Sea,

And ruſhes on, when once ’t has forc’d a Paſſage.

2d Shep.

Heav’n has their Plumes; for high as that they toſs ’em:

And not a duſty Soldier in the Hoſt,

That has not hugg’d him to his ſwarthy Boſom.


No Voice is what it was an Hour ago;

And their hoarſe Joy ſounds like their diſtant Drums:

His Hands, as if the Cretan Thongs ſtill held them,

Are uſeleſs made, and fetter’d now with Kiſſes;

Whilſt neighing Steeds think that the War ſurrounds them,

And prance in Air light as their Maſter’s Minds.

2d Shep.

How he eſcap’d, all ask in ſuch Confuſion,

That their loud Queſtions drive his Anſwers back,

And will not let them reach the neareſt to him.


It is enough, ye Powers that guard Meſſenia!

We now muſt change our Habits, and return.

Aſide to Bar.

What did I ſay, return! O yes! I muſt,

And never hope to ſee Climander more:

To herſelf.

Yet will I give my Heart this laſt Relief

(Since Fate will have it bear th’unequal Paſſion)

To let him know my Love, and endleſs Flight,

And live on the dear Thought that he laments it.

Exit with Bar.


Where is Ariſtor? Is he too return’d?


That queſtion did the Gen’ral ask aloud;

And ’twas the only one that cou’d be heard:

But Z7v 350

But no reply was made; I think he is not.


Then we’re but half reſtor’d――

For he ſo heavily will take that Loſs,

Our Joys will not be long, nor he amongſt us.


Fear not the worſt――

2d. Shep.

I met a rumour of a ſtranger Prince,

That with large Sums new fir’d the trembling Hoſt,

And from the Camp had led on ſome Deſign

A Party, that for Wealth wou’d riſque their Lives,

Tho’ cold and dull to Thoughts of gen’rous Duty.


’Tis true; of Rhodes they ſay,

And ſome I heard that call’d him Demagetus.

Thick flew his Gold, as ſwarms of Summer-Bees,

And ’twas to ſuccour or revenge the Gen’ral.

He ask’d their Aid――

But whither he has led them, none can tell.

Ere Ariſtomenes return’d, he went

And is not heard of ſince.

2nd Shep.

The Gen’ral’s ſafe, and that’s enough for us:

Now therefore Clinias, you that guide our Sports,

Tell us what we’re to do to ſhew our Joy.


To Laugh, to Sing, to Dance, to Play,

To riſe with new appearing Day;

And ere the Sun has kiſs’d ’em dry,

With various Rubans Noſegays tye.

Deckt with Flow’rs, and cloath’d in Green,

Ev’ry Shepherdeſs be ſeen:

Ev’ry Swain with Heart and Voice

Meet him, meet him, and rejoice:

With Z8r 351

With redoubl’d Pæans ſing him,

To the Plains, in Triumph bring him:

And let Pan and Mars agree,

That none’s ſo kind and brave as He.


Act IV. Scene I.

The General’s Pavilion. Enter Dreſt in the Habit of an Officer Demagetus with Arcaſius.


Sh’ has left the Plains, and is not to be found.

How cou’d’ſt thou bring this cruel Story to me,

Ere thou had’ſt ſearch’d Meſſenia’s utmoſt Bound,

And travell’d o’er the ſpacious World of Shepherds?

She muſt be yet amongſt their Shades conceal’d;

And thro’ them will I pierce, like prying Phœbus,

To find my Love, or loſe myſelf for ever.


You will not hear (ſo much your Paſſion ſways)

The Reaſons, why I choſe to ſee you firſt,

Ere I proceeded to purſue her Paths.


Thereſpoke the ſixty Winters, that have froze thee,

And turn’d ſwift eager Love to Icy Reaſons.

I muſt be Cold as thou art, if I hear thee,

Or loſe one moment more in doating Queſtions.

He’s going. Arca. Z8v 352


Behold theſe Tokens, and let them retard you.


Tokens of Love, ſent to the fond Climander.

Oh! thou haſt found a way indeed to ſtay me.


Take that, to you directed; A Letter.

And ’twas my Hopes from thence of ſome Diſcovery,

That kept me here ’till you had broke and read it.


Then thou ſhalt hear it. Reads the Direction.

This to Climander from the Nymph that leaves him

To everlaſting Grief, ſhou’d have been added:

For ſo ’twill prove, if no more Comfort’s here.

He reads it.

To love, yet from the Object fly,

Harder is, than ’tis to Dye:

Yet, for ever I remove,

Yet, for ever will I love.

Shepherd, ſeek no more to find;

Fate, not I, has been Unkind.

We pluck on Fate, by ſtriving to avoid it.

To ſhun the low Addreſſes of a Swain,

For ever has ſhe left a Prince deſpairing.

Why didſt thou not, as I at parting bid thee,

Find out, and let her know my fair Intentions,

And that my Birth was Noble as her Wiſhes?


I was not negligent, nor wou’d be thought ſo:

But full of Tranſports when I heard your Story,

Thinking the Fates wou’d now fulfill their Promiſe

Thro’ her the Daughter to the beſt of Men,

Fled Aa1r 353

Fled to diſcover what you gave in Charge,

Travers’d the Plains in a long fruitleſs Search,

But cou’d not find that Beauty born to Bleſs us.


I ſhew’d thee, as we paſs’d, her new rais’d Hamlet.


Thither at laſt I went, but Oh! too late:

For ere I reach’d it, the fair Gueſt was vaniſh’d;

Upon the Floor lay her neglected Hook,

And o’er the Door hung Boughs of fading Willow,

To ſhew, as Shepherds uſe, the Place forſaken.

That Paper there I found, and near it lay

This precious Gemm, that bears a well-cut Signet,

Shews him a Ring.

By chance ſure dropt, yet may aſſiſt your Purpoſe.


Give me that Emblem of my fatal Paſſion:

For without End is that, as is this Circle.

Oh! that my way to Bliſs ſhou’d ſeem ſo plain,

Yet in a moment thus be loſt and wilder’d!

Now in the midſt of Crouds and loud Applauſes,

That greet me for reſtoring them Ariſtor,

Muſt wretched Demagetus ſigh for Love,

And hang his drooping Head, tho’ wreath’d with Laurels.

A ſound of Drums and Trumpets.

But hark! the Gen’ral comes――

To him the Oracle I have reveal’d,

And all the Story of my rural Life.

I’ll tell him too the Cauſe of my new Grief,

Which to relieve, I inſtantly muſt leave him.

Aa A Aa1v 354 A Flourish. Enter Ariſtomenes, Ariſtor, Alcander, and other Attendants.


Why, Demagetus, art thou from my Sight,

From theſe fond Arms, that ever thus wou’d hold thee!

Embracing him.

Thou kind Reſtorer of my lov’d Ariſtor.

Come to the Camp, and hear them ſhout thy Name,

Whilſt I declare thee equal in Command

With him, who owes his Life to thy young Valour.


Alas! my Lord――


A Soldier ſigh, when courting Fame attends him!

I know you Love, by your own kind Confeſſion:

But that too muſt ſucceed, ſince now your Birth

Is known to anſwer all the great Deſires,

Which, to my Wonder, did poſſeſs the Breaſt

Of that fair rural Maid, whoſe Beauty charm’d you.

We’ll ſend, and with the Pomp that ſuits a Princeſs,

(Since ſuch your gen’rous Paſſion means to make her)

Have her conducted to a rich Pavilion,

And join your Hands, as Heav’n has join’d your Hearts.

This, my Ariſtor, be your pleaſing Task.

Enter Aa2r 355 Enter an Attendant to Ariſtomenes.


The Princeſs is without, and waits your Pleaſure.


Conduct her in――

I ſent for her, to ſee the generous Stranger.

To Alcander. Enter behind the Company Herminia and Barina.


My Lord, what you command, I take in charge. To Ariſtomenes.

Tell me, my beſt of Friends, the way to ſerve you.

To Demagetus.


I know it not my ſelf, and that’s the Torture.

Hear me, my Lord, nor think my Sorrows light:

To Ariſtomenes.

For Love, the only Comfort of fond Youth,

Is loſt for ever to the poor Climander.


Climander―― To Barina.

That Name and Voice bears down my fainting Spirits.

I ſhall be known, yet have not Strength to fly:

Where will this end, and where’s Herminia’s Honour!

To herſelf.


So ſad a Pauſe ſtill keeps us in Suſpence:

Proceed, and if there’s help on Earth, we’ll find it.


At my return, made joyful by Succeſs,

With haſty Steps, and in my Heart ſoft Wiſhes,

Love, and a thouſand flatt’ring Expectations,

I fled the clam’rous Praiſe prepar’d to meet me,

And ſought the Path that led to my Deſires:

Aa2 But Aa2v 356

But ere I was advanc’d beyond the Camp,

The Voice of this Old Man

Croſs’d my ſad way, and cry’d, She’s gone for ever.


Perhaps ’tis ſome Miſtake,

If other Proofs are wanting to confirm it.


Oh! far too many for Climander’s Peace.

She own’d her Love, and with this Signet bound it,

And in the Folds of this dear Paper left

At once the Tokens of my Joy and Ruin.

Gives the Letter and Ring to Ariſtomenes.


The Character and Signet will betray me;

And now Neceſſity muſt make me Bold.


Oh! yet, ere you proceed to view that Paper,

She throws her ſelf at Ariſtomenes Feet.

(Wrapt in Confuſion) hear your Daughter ſpeak,

As he is opening the Letter.

And pity in her Fate all Women’s Frailty.


Ha! Thou doſt much ſurprize me; but go on,

And, ’till ſhe has finiſh’d, let no Word be utter’d.


By all my fleeting Sorrows ’tis my Love:

Nor cou’d I, but to hear her ſpeak, be Silent.



Proceed, and ’bate thoſe Tears, that ſtay thy Speech.


That I have ſtoop’d below the Blood you gave me,

And caſt my doating Love upon that Shepherd,

(For ſuch he is, altho’ a Plume adorns him)

My Aa3r 357

My wretched Hand, and now my Tongue confeſſes:

For by that Paper, indiſcreetly penn’d,

The Secret wou’d be told, ſhou’d I conceal it.

But Oh! my Lord, ſince you can ne’er forgive me;

A ſad Recluſe for ever let me live,

Or Dye for Love, to do my Birth more Juſtice.


Be comforted, and farther yet unfold

How firſt you came acquainted with this Shepherd.


To ’ſcape the Fury of prevailing Foes,

Diſguis’d, I in your abſence ſought the Plains,

And in that Habit heard the pow’rful Sighs

Of one that knew not then his own Preſumption.


Where he a Prince, and ſtill wou’d urge his Suit

Wou’d’ſt thou receive’t, and bleſs the Pow’rs that ſent him?


I ſhou’d not hide my Thoughts, or bluſh to own them.

Yes, I cou’d bleſs thoſe Pow’rs which now undo me.

Demagetus comes forward.


I cannot wait theſe Forms; Love plead my Pardon,

When, Sir, I diſobey your order’d Silence,

And haſte to tell her ’tis a Prince adores her,

That wou’d have ſought her on the lowly Plains,

And for her Favour quitted all Dominion.


Then take her, thou moſt worthy Prince of Rhodes! Giving her to him.

And know, Herminia, to encreaſe thy Paſſion,

Thou hold’ſt that noble Hand, that ſav’d thy Brother,

Aa3 And Aa3v 358

And gives thy Father, in this new Alliance,

More Joy, than when he firſt receiv’d and bleſs’d thee.


Let all the Joys of Earth give place to mine,

Whilſt in deep, ſilent Raptures I poſſeſs them:

Taking her from Ariſtomenes.

For Demagetus is above Diſcourſe,

And will not wrong his Love with faint Expreſſions.


So let mine flow, and O Barina, ſee

I ſmiling give my Hand now to a Shepherd,

Yet fear not to offend my Mother’s Ghoſt.


No; that ſmiles too, and all that love and ſerve you.


The Fate of Rhodes is clear and chearful now;

And old Arcaſius has outliv’d his Cares.


Now as a Brother, take this new Embrace; To Demagetus.

Tho’ all the Love, it ſhews, you had before.


Conduct her, Demagetus, to her Tent:

I’ll ſoon be there, and ſee thoſe Rites perform’d,

That ſhall confirm her Yours; be Kind and Happy.

Exeunt Herminia and Demagetus leading her follow’d by Arcaſius, Barina and others. Ariſtor is going too but is call’d back by his Father.

Come back Ariſtor, and the reſt withdraw:

For ſomething I wou’d ſay to you in private.

The Attendants go off.

Free from the Croud, and unobſerv’d my Tranſports,

I wou’d embrace, and welcome thee to Life,

And Aa4r 359

And with a loud repeated Bleſſing pay

The pious Care, that brought it to ſuch Dangers.

Oh! that the Love of Women ſhou’d be thought

To paſs the Fondneſs which a Father feels,

When thus he graſps a Son of thy Perfections,

Embracing him.

My Dear, my Lov’d Ariſtor!


My Prince, my Gen’ral, and the Beſt of Fathers!


Thy Heart ſpeaks loud, and knocking at my Breaſt

Seems as ’twou’d cloſe in conference with mine.


It wou’d, my Lord, and ſtrives to force its Paſſage.
Ariſtomenes looſes his Arms from embracing him.


Oh, no my Son! for now I muſt be plain,

And tell thee, thou doſt lock ſome Secret there

Which all my depth of Kindneſs ne’er cou’d fathom:

I ſee it in the Cloud, that ſhades thy Brow.

And ſtill thy penſive Eyes are downwards caſt,

As thou wou’d’ſt ſeek the Grave, or ſomething lower:

Long have I this obſerv’d――

And thought whole Nights away, to find the Cauſe,

Which now, my Son, I urge thee to reveal:

And think that He who beſt can love thee asks it.


Oh! that you did not love, or wou’d not ask it!

I cannot ſpeak, for ſpeaking muſt offend:

Yet ſhou’d my Silence grieve ſuch mighty Goodneſs,

Aa4 ’Twou’d Aa4v 360

’Twou’d break that Heart, which thus you ſeek to ſuccour.

Upon my Knees a ſtrange Requeſt I make,

Offering to Kneel but his Father takes him up.

That you wou’d quite forget, and think me Dead;

Which the approaching Battle ſhou’d confirm,

And leave you to poſſeſs your other Comforts.


My other Comforts! All are light to Thee:

And when I wou’d have ſhar’d amongſt my Race

Impartial Kindneſs, as their Birthrights claim’d,

Still to my Heart Ariſtor wou’d be neareſt,

Still, with a Merit not to be withſtood,

Wou’d preſs beyond my cool and equal Purpoſe,

And ſeize a double Portion of my Love:

And wilt thou loſe it now, to keep thy Silence?


My Life I rather wou’d; but Oh! my Lord! [Sighs.


Another Sigh, another yet, my Son!

And then, let Words relieve this mighty Paſſion:

They will, they will; the Sweetneſs of thy Temper

Will melt before a juſt and warm Perſuaſion.

Now, let me know it――


Believe that if ’twere fit, it ſhou’d be told:

But Oh! my Lord, ’tis what you muſt not know.


Not I, Ariſtor! if thy Soul were bare

As is thy faded Cheek now to thy Father,

It were moſt fit――

Oh! think, my Son, who ’twas that made it Noble,

And train’d it in the Paths of Truth and Honour:

Elſe, what had hinder’d, but thou might’ſt have been

(In Aa5r 361

(In ſpite of all the Virtues with thee born,

For Education is the ſtronger Nature)

A bragging Coward, or a baſe Detractor,

A Slave to Wealth, or falſe to Faith or Friendſhip,

Lull’d in the common Arms of ſome Seducer,

And loſt to all the Joys of Virtuous Love.


Ha! Virtuous Love!


What, doſt thou ſtart? why, ſo I meant thou ſhou’d’ſt.

When haſtily I preſs’d that Word upon thee,

To catch that fluſhing Witneſs in thy Face,

Was all this Bait contriv’d; no more, my Son,

No more diſſembling of a Truth ſo plain:

I ſee ’tis Love, the beſt of all our Paſſions,

And fram’d like Thee; ſure none cou’d e’er Deſpair,

Nor can I fear thou’d’ſt make a vulgar Choice.


On Ida’s Top not Paris made a nobler,

When of three Goddeſſes he choſe the Faireſt.


Will ſhe not hear thy Love?


Oh yes! with all the ſoftneſs of her Sex,

And anſwers it with Vows, more ſtrong than Ours.


If thus it be, what haſt thou then to fear?


A Father’s Wrath, more dreadful to Ariſtor

Than is the frown of Jove, that ſhakes the Poles,

And makes the Gods forget they are Immortal.


Thou wrong’ſt my Love in that miſtaken Terror.

By all thoſe Powers I ſwear, I will not croſs thee;

Be ſhe a Spartan Dame, ’bate me but One,

And Aa5v 362

And tho’ a Foe, I yield thou ſhou’d’ſt poſſeſs her.


I dare not ask; my trembling Love forbids it.

Who is that One, ſo fatally excepted?


Then, I’ll by telling thee prevent that Trouble.

It is the Tyrant Anaxander’s Daughter,

Whom, tho’ I ne’er beheld, I muſt abhor,

As borrowing her Blood from ſuch a Fountain.


Take mine, my Lord, then to waſh out that Stain Offers his Breaſt.

You’ll think it has contracted by her Love:

For ’tis that Tyrant’s Daughter I adore,

And ne’er, while Life is here, will change my Purpoſe.


Confuſion ſeize thoſe Words, and Her that caus’d ’em!

Not Groans of Earthquakes, or the Burſt of Thunder,

The Voice of Storms urging the dang’rous Billows,

E’er ſtruck the Senſe with ſounds of ſo much Horror.

It muſt not, Oh! it muſt not, ſhall not be:

Sooner this Dagger, tho’ my Soul lives in thee,

Drawing Amalintha’s Dagger.

Shou’d let out thine with this prepoſt’rous Paſſion,

Than I wou’d yield, it e’er ſhou’d meet Succeſs.


Of all the Inſtruments by Vulcan form’d,

That Poinard beſt is fitted to my Heart,

Since Her’s it was, whoſe Eyes have deeper pierc’d it:

Quickly, my Lord, let me receive it here,

And Aa6r 363

And ſee me proud in Death to wear that Favour.

Ariſtomenes amaz’d looks on the Dagger, and ſpeaks to himſelf.


This Dagger Her’s, this Anaxander’s Daughter’s!

Fate then is practiſing upon my Soul

What ſudden Turns, and Tryals man can bear.


Oh! do not pauſe――

Leſt fainting with the Weight of what I feel,

I poorly fall, unlike your Son or Soldier.


If this were Her’s, Her’s were the grateful Vows,

With which I raſhly charg’d the Life ſhe gave me.

Still to himſelf.


Ha! not a Look, not one ſad parting Word!

Then my own Hand thus ſets me free for ever.

Offers to Stab himſelf, but is ſtay’d by Ariſtomenes.


Hold! by Love and Duty yet a moment hold!


My Life they’ve ſwayed, and muſt command a Moment

But let it not exceed, leſt both I cancel,

And only liſten to my wild Deſpair.


Shall I perform them? ſhall I hear her plead?

And to a Woman’s Claim reſign my Vengeance?

No; let my Ear ſtill fly the fatal Suit,

And from her Tears be turn’d my harden’d Face.

What did I ſay! a haſty Bluſh has ſeiz’d it,

For but imagining a Thing ſo vile.

Turn Aa6v 364

Turn back my Face from Her that ſhunn’d not mine,

When it was Death to know, and to preſerve me!

No; let the Fiends be obſtinate in Ill,

Revenge be their’s, while Godlike Man is grateful.

Enter an Attendant.


Pardon, my gracious Lord, this bold Intruſion.

Two Ladies veil’d, eſcaping from Phærea,

Ask with ſuch earneſtneſs for Prince Ariſtor,

That, ſure, their Bus’neſs is of mighty Moment.

From one this Ring at her entreaty, Sir, I muſt deliver.

Gives it to Ariſtor and Exit.


Retire, and if not call’d, return no more.


’Tis Amalintha’s Ring, my Amalintha’s:

She’s come in time, to ſee me fall her Victim.


No; to receive her from my Hand, my Son;

Since ’twas from her’s, I took this healing Weapon,

That has cut off the Hate in which I held her.

’Twas ſhe that met me riſing from my Grave,

And fearleſs freed the Foe to her and Sparta:

Then in a grateful Promiſe was I bound

Not to deny whate’er ſhe ſhou’d requeſt;

And ſure thy Love, before the Pomp of Crowns,

Is what a Maid muſt ask, that knows its Value.


The Tranſports of my Soul be thus expreſt;

Then let me Dye, for having griev’d ſuch Goodneſs.

Embracing his Father’s Knees.
Aristom. Aa7r 365


No; riſe my Son, go meet and chear thy Love,

And to this Tent conduct the Royal Maid,

Whilſt in that inner Part I ſtand conceal’d,

And hear her tell, why thus ſhe comes to ſeek us:

Thence will I iſſue, as occaſion calls,

And giving thee, give all I hold moſt precious.

He goes into the inner Tent. Ariſtor goes out at the other Door and re-enters immediately leading Amalintha veil’d follow’d by Phila.


Diſmiſs that Cloud, and with it all your Fears,

Safe in this Camp, and in Aristor’s Love,

Which ne’er was truly bleſs’d, ’till this glad Moment.

Now Amalintha, let my Joys o’erflow;

And ere I ask what brought thee to my ſight,

Let it be fill’d with thy amazing Beauties,

And with this Hand my longing Lips be clos’d.

Kiſſes her Hand.


Thus, after each ſhort abſence, may we meet,

Thus pleas’d, thus wrapt in Love, thus dying fond.

But oh Ariſtor! ſince I laſt beheld you,

So has this Life been threaten’d by the Fates,

That to your Arms ’tis forc’d for Peace and Safety.


Still may they prove a Haven for my Love,

Too ſtrong for all the Shocks of rig’rous Fortune.

But what beneath thy Father’s Roof cou’d fright thee?

Or Aa7v 366

Or what bold Danger break thro’ his Protection?


’Twas from Himſelf, and all the Lords of Sparta.

When Aristomenes they found eſcap’d,

High was their Rage as Billows in a Tempeſt;

And all the Arts of State were put in uſe

To find who had aſſiſted in his Flight:

But ſtill in vain, ’till ſubtle, vile Clarinthus――


That Villain will be firſt in Blood and Miſchief.

But cou’d he pry into thy generous Heart,

And find it there, that you had nobly done it?

And are not ſecret Thoughts ſecure againſt him?


I did believe them ſo, ’till he diſprov’d it:

For ’twas his Counſel, when all others fail’d,

To know by ſpeaking Gods the deep Contrivance;

And from the Oracle, in ſome few Moments,

The full Diſcov’ry will have reach’d Phærea,

Which ere it does, I was advis’d to leave,

By one that heard the horrid Voice accuſe me,

And with a Speed unmark’d outflew the reſt.


As ſwiftly may the bounteous Gods reward him.


This, my Aristor, brings me to your Tents,

But not to ſave my Life, or ’ſcape their Fury:

For ſhou’d your Heart, which boldly I will claim,

Be yet deny’d me by your injur’d Father,

Not all his Army ſhou’d retard my Steps

From leading to the Town, and certain Ruin:

For they have ſworn it (with this Imprecation,

That ’till ’tis done, no Victory may bleſs them)

To ſacrifice the Soul that ſav’d the Gen’ral.

Enter Aa8r 367 Enter Ariſtomenes from the inward Tent.


That Army you have nam’d, ſhall firſt in Flames

Conſume the utmoſt Town of Lacedemon.

Take your Security, and ſofteſt Wiſhes,

Your dear Aristor take, and if ought more

The fair Preſerver of his Father claims,

Be it but nam’d, and at that inſtant granted.


Beyond Aristor’s Heart there’s no Requeſt,

No longing Thought, no Hope for Amalintha:

For ſtill his Love preſcrib’d their tender Limits.


Oh! let it not be thought irrev’rent Paſſion,

If in the awful Preſence of a Father

I run upon my Joys, and graſp ’em thus.

Embraces her.


Thou well doſt intimate I ſhou’d retire;

For Privacy is only fit for Lovers.


Pardon my Tranſport, Sir, nor thus miſtake it.


No more, my Son! but when the Trumpet calls,

Which muſt be ſoon, remember thou’rt a Soldier,

And that the Battle, we ſhall lead to morrow,

Will ask for our beſt of Care and Preparation.


Never was I yet wanting to my Charge.

But give me leave here to attend that Summons.

Exit Ariſtomenes.

For Oh! my Amalintha, ſince thou’rt mine,

Since I can tell my Heart that darling Truth;

The Moments that muſt take me from thy ſight,

Will paſs for loſt, and uſeleſs to Aristor.

And Aa8v 368

And this War done, which now we ſoon ſhall finiſh

(For You not there, what God will fight for Sparta?)

I’ll ſwear the Sun and radiant Light ſhall part,

Ere I will once be found from this lov’d Preſence.


Confirm it, all ye ſoft and gentle Pow’rs!

And let the pattern of a Love ſo perfect

Reform Mankind, and bleſs believing Women.

But can I think it is Aristor ſpeaks?

That I behold, and hear you ſafe from Danger,

Whom late I ſaw aſſaulted ſo with Death,

When from the Guard a Weapon you had ſnatch’d,

And but that brave Swords length cou’d keep him from you?

Hope and fond Expectation all had left me:

Arm’d with this Dagger full I ſtood in vain,

And from my Window watch’d the fatal Stroke,

Which ſoon was to be copy’d on my Heart;

Then, had I meant to own your noble Love,

And told mine Dying, whilſt the Croud had trembl’d.


I ſaw your dire Intent, and that preſerv’d me:

For ’twas to ſtop your Arm, that mine perform’d

What elſe had been above the Force of Nature;

And when the Drums of Demagetus thunder’d,

As thro’ the ſhiver’d Gates he ruſh’d to ſave me,

You may remember, that I wou’d not meet him,

Till I had told my Love what meant the Tumult,

Which ſince has given me Fears, cold as pale Death,

Leſt ſome Obſerver might have charg’d it on you.

Trumpets ſound. Amal. Bb1r 369


No; for too much their own Concern engag’d them.

But Oh! already hark! the Trumpet calls,

And jealous Fame no longer lets me keep you.

Muſt you be gone, muſt you obey this Summons?


Oh! yes, I muſt; it is the Voice of Honour.

Yet, do not weep――

Be this Embrace the Earneſt of a Thouſand.

Now let me lead you to Herminia’s Tent:

Then think, I go more to ſecure your Charms,

And fight to reſt with Peace in theſe fair Arms.

He leads her off.

Act V. Scene I.

The Scene is the Camp. A Noiſe of Drums and Trumpets. Enter Ariſtomenes, Ariſtor, Demagetus, Alcander, ſeveral Officers and Soldiers. Enter an Officer from the other Door, and ſpeaks to the General.


My Lord! I’m from Alcander bid to ſay,

The Battle he has marſhall’d as you order’d;

And that your Preſence now is only wanted.


Tell him we come; and let the Drums beat higher. Bb Now, Bb1v 370

Now, my brave Followers, be your ſelves to Day,

And more I need not ask, that know your Valour;

Who’ve ſeen you at the backs of Spartans ride,

Till their long Flight, and not your Conquest, tir’d you.

The Soldiers ſhout.

And Oh! my Sons, ſince they who bravely ſeek it,

May meet with Death, when all his Darts are flying,

Let me Embrace, and breathe my Bleſſings on ye.

Embraces Demagetus.

Yet, Demagetus, if I ’ſcape him now,

And Victory attends my great Endeavour,

Thou ſhalt Thriumphant lead me into Rhodes,

Where we’ll obey the Gods, and ſave thy Country.


Still you’re the Beſt of Men, as they declar’d you.


Now let me fold thee thus, my Life’s beſt Treaſure! He Embraces Ariſtor, but ſeems diſorder’d, and not to feel him in his Arms, which he often claſps about him.

Thou doſt not fill my Arms, ’tis Air I graſp:

Nor do my Eyes behold thee――

Where is my Son, ha! where is my Ariſtor?


Here my dear Lord, here preſſing to your Boſom.
His Voice ſeems to Ariſtomenes to be low and different from what it was uſually.


From what far diſtant Valley comes thy Voice? It Bb2r 371

It ſounds ſo hollow, ſcarce my Ear receives it.


What means my noble Father!


Till now, my faithful Senſes never fail’d me.

They talk of Omens, ha! I muſt not think on’t;

Such chilling Damps wou’d blaſt a Day of Battle:


Yet let my evil Genius but be true,

And a fam’d End is all it can portend me.


You reaſon with your ſelf, and turn from others.

May we not know what thus diſturbs your Thoughts?


Nothing――a Vapour croſs’d me, but ’tis gone:

And now the Field, the duſty Field, my Sons,

Muſt be the Scene, where we ſhall nobly act

What our great Spirits, and our Country urges.

The Trumpet calls, with the impatient Drum;

And He that loves his Honour, let him come.

He draws his Sword and goes off follow’d by the reſt with their Swords drawn, Drums and Shouts of Battle immediately ſucceed.
The Noiſe continues, the Scene changes to a fine Tent. Enter Amalintha follow’d by Phila.


Not yet enough! when will this Diſcord ceaſe!

Is there no happy Land,

Where only Love, and its kind Laws prevail?

Bb2 Where Bb2v 372

Where the falſe Trumpet flatters not to Death,

Nor the more noiſy Drum outcries the Dying?

Oh! Phila, why ſhou’d Men with Hearts unmov’d

Seek the bold War, and leave ours trembling for them?

Now whilſt I ſpeak, a chilling Fear ſurrounds me;

And ev’ry Tread I hear, is haſt’ning on,

Methinks, to tell me, all my Hopes are periſh’d.


Why ſhou’d you, Madam, who have paſs’d already,

Unhurt by Fortune, thro’ more threat’ning Dangers,

Now faint, when Reaſon bids you think the beſt?

The Sound goes from us, and the lucky War

(Since you’ve the Promiſe of your Father’s Life)

Proceeds, as we cou’d wiſh, for the Meſſenians.


So do’s it ſeem; but yet my failing Spirits

Sink to my Heart, and bid it think of Ruin.

Laſt Night my Dreams ſhew’d me Ariſtor bleeding;

And o’er my Head a ſcreaming Voice proclaim’d

That Amalintha’s haſty Fate had kill’d him:

I clos’d my Eyes to catch another Viſion,

That might interpret, or prevent the firſt;

But all in vain, no Help or Comfort found me,

And wrapt in Fears, I wak’d and ſtill continue

For what’s foretold ſo fatal to my Love.


Your Fate work his? it rather will protect him.

But here come Tydings, and the Bearer ſmiles;

Good let them be, and theſe vain Fears will vaniſh.

Enter Bb3r 373 Enter an Officer.


From Prince Ariſtor? Do’s he live, and ſend you?


Madam he does――

And bids me ſay, what I my ſelf can witneſs,

That Lacedemon’s Battle breaks to pieces,

And ſoon will give him leave to find you here.


Take this, and wear it, Soldier, for your News; Gives him a Jewel.

And may your Honours ſtill outſhine its Luſtre.

Stay here, whilſt I report this to Herminia,

If Demagetus too be yet in ſafety.


He is; and near Aristor did I leave him.


Come with me, Phila; yet my Heart is heavy,

And wou’d be forcing Tears to my ſad Eyes:

But I’ll repel them with this welcome Meſſage,

And put on all the ſmiles of Love to meet him.

Exit with Phila into the Tent.


The Centinels have all forſook the Tents,

In hopes to ſhare the Plunder of the Foe,

Finding by their retiring we prevail:

But I’ll report it loudly to the General.

Oh! here are ſome returning; are they Meſſenians?

They wear the Habit, yet no Face I know;

Their Haſte and Looks do ſeem to point at Miſchief:

I will conceal my ſelf, and watch their Purpoſe.

He conceals himſelf. Bb3 Enter Bb3v 374 Enter Clarinthus with others diſguis’d like Meſſenian Soldiers.


You heard the King, and the chief Lords of Sparta

Wiſh, that no Victory might bleſs our Arms,

Till we had ſacrific’d the Traytor’s Life,

That freed this Lyon, which devours us all.


We did, we did――


You’ve alſo heard, ’twas Amalintha’s Action.


Yes, and the King then ſaid, his Vow ſhou’d ſtand:

And ſhe had Dy’d, I think, had ſhe not fled for’t.


’Tis true; therefore when I reflected on our Curſe,

And ſaw that Conqueſt wou’d no more attend us

Till we perform’d what to the Gods we ſwore,

I mov’d the King――

To let me with your Aid attempt the Camp,

Which if I found unguarded,

I wou’d to Sparta ſoon convey the Traytreſs,

Where ſhe ſhou’d meet the Rigour of the Law.

Theſe are the Royal Tents, where ſhe muſt be;

Therefore no more remains, but to ſecure her.

They follow him into the inner Tent and the conceal’d Officer comes out.


Curſt Conſpiration, not to be prevented

With but my ſingle Arm againſt their Numbers!

But to the Battle, and Ariſtor’s Ear I’ll fly for Help;

That Bb4r 375

That may o’ertake, and croſs the bloody Purpoſe.

Exit. The Women ſhriek in the inner Tent, and Re-enter Clarintha, &c. leading in Amalintha and Phila.


Meſſenians are ye, and yet treat me thus!

Reſtrain thoſe Hands, that gave your Gen’ral to you.

Let me but hear you ſpeak, and name the Cauſe;

Which, if a juſt one, I’ll ſubmit to Fortune.


’Tis but too juſt, and do’s not ask explaining.


Oh! now Clarinthus in your Voice I read

The cruel Sentence of an angry Father.

Turn not away that Face, but hear your Princeſs;

I can’t reſiſt, no Force, no Help is near me:

Therefore command, that but my Arms be freed,

And let me not be dragg’d, where I muſt follow.


Will you, relying then on me for Safety,

Forbear to cry for Help, as we conduct you?


By Caſtor’s Soul I ſwear it.


Then taking firſt her Dagger, free her Arms.

Give me your Hand, and now perform your Promiſe,

To follow where I’ll lead you――

Juſt as Clarinthus is offering to take her Hand, ſhe ſnatches Phila’s Dagger, and then anſwers Clarinthus.


No, ſtay Clarinthus; that I did not Promiſe.

My Voice, and not my Feet, my Word engag’d;

Bb4 And Bb4v 376

And whilſt my Hand holds this, I will not follow.


So ſwift and ſubtle? yet diſarm and take her.


Hear me but ſpeak, Clarinthus:

My Father’s Life already I’ve ſecur’d;

And if you yet will quit this dang’rous Purpoſe,

Yours with Rewards, as great as your Deſires,

Shall too be given you, and all Wrongs lie bury’d.


More than I love Rewards, I hate Meſſenia;

Therefore alive or dead will bear you from ’em.

He offers to ſeize her, ſhe keeping him off with her Dagger kneels.


Oh! Pity yet my Youth, and wretched Fortunes;

A Princeſs at your Feet behold in Tears,

And ſpare my Blood, the Royal Blood of Sparta.


Yes, and be loſt our ſelves to ſave a Trayt’reſs?

For, ſuch you’ve been to that high Blood you’ve boaſted.

I will not ſpare nor pity, but thus ſeize you.

He wreſts the Dagger from her, ſhe riſes haſtily and follow’d by Phila eſcapes into the Tent, Clarinthus purſues her, and immediately the Cries of Women are heard. Enter at the other Door Ariſtor and Soldiers.


Oh! we are come in time. Deteſted Villains,

Your Deaths are all that you ſhall meet with here.

They fight. Re-enter Bb5r 377 Re-enter Clarinthus.


The Victim’s ſtruck which could not be borne off. Aſide.

Now my next Task

Muſt be to reſcue thoſe, who ſhar’d the Danger.

He runs at Ariſtor who kills him, he ſpeaks falling.

Thou’ſt kill’d Clarinthus; And

The Fiends reward thee.


Dye; and thoſe Fiends thou call’ſt on, meet thy Spirit.

I askt but that, to crown the War we’ve ended.

He and his Men fall on the reſt, fighting off the Stage. Enter Amalintha wounded and ſupported by Phila.


Phila thy Hand; help me to reach that Couch,

The dying Bed of wretched Amalintha!

Nay, do not weep, ſince ’tis the Fate’s Decree,

Who let one luckleſs Moment interpoſe

Betwixt Aristor’s coming, and my Ruin.

Here, ſet me down; and let this laſt Embrace

Sits down.

Reward the Cares and Fears, my Life has coſt thee.

Now leave me, Phila, to perform a Part,

Which muſt not be prevented by thy Tears.


Thus pale, thus faint, and dying muſt I leave you!


Yes; if thou wilt obey, thou muſt retire:

But be not far, and when thou ſeeſt me fall’n

Dead Bb5v 378

Dead in Ariſtor’s Arms, who’ll ſoon return,

Come forth, and tell him ’twas my laſt Requeſt

(By all our Love, by all our Sighs and Sorrows,

By our new Vows, and ſwiftly faded Joys)

That He wou’d yet ſurvive his Amalintha;

Nor let the fatal Viſion prove a Truth,

That ’twas my Fate, my haſty Fate that kill’d him.


Let me but ſtay, at leaſt ’till he’s arriv’d.


’Twou’d croſs my Purpoſe, hark! I hear him coming.

Quickly retire, and let me hide this Stream,

Leſt he ſhou’d ſwell it with a Flood of Tears,

And waſte in Grief my ſmall remaining Life,

Which I deſign to laviſh out in Love.

Phila goes off. Amalintha pulls her Garment over her Wound.

About him let my dying Arms be thrown,

Whilſt I deny my parting Life one Groan.

My failing Breath ſhall in ſoft Sighs expire,

And tender Words ſpend my laſt vital Fire;

That of my Death Men this Account may give,

She ceas’d to Love, as others ceaſe to Live.

Enter Ariſtor haſtily, and ſits down by her.


How fares my Love? ſink not beneath your Fears,

When this moſt lucky Hand has made them groundleſs,

Securing to my Life its greatest Bleſſing,

Your matchleſs Love, and all its dying Tranſports.

Amal. Bb6r 379


Its dying Tranſports, did you ſay Aristor?

I wou’d be glad to know, that Death has Tranſports.

But are there none, none that do Live and Love?

That early meet, and in the Spring of Youth,

Not croſs’d, or troubl’d in the ſoft Deſign,

Set ſweetly out, and travel on to Age

In mutual Joys, that with themſelves expire?


Indeed, there are but few, that are thus Happy.

But ſince our Lot it is, t’encreaſe the number,

Let us not loſe a Thought on other’s Fortunes,

But keep them ſtill employ’d upon our own;

For in no Hearts, ſure, Love e’er wrought more Wonders.


Oh! no, to mine I gladly did admit it

Thro’ the ſtern hazards of a Father’s Wrath,

And all the Hate of Sparta and Meſſenia.

If e’er I wept, ’twas Love that forc’d the Dew,

And not my Country, or my colder Friendſhips;

And on my Face (when Lacedemon mourn’d)

Suſpected Smiles were ſeen to mock her Loſſes;

Becauſe that Love was on the adverſe Party.

Thus fond, thus doating have I paſs’d my Hours,

And with their dear remembrance will I cloſe

My Life’s laſt Scene, and graſp you thus in Dying.

She embraces him.


Far be that Hour; but Oh! my Amalintha,

Proceed thus to deſcribe thy tender Soul,

And charm me with thy mighty Senſe of Paſſion:

For Bb6v 380

For know, ’twas that which fix’d me ever thine,

When with a Pleaſure, not to be expreſs’d,

I found no Language of my Love eſcap’d thee,

Tho’ wrapt in Myſt’ry to delude the Croud;

When ev’ry longing Look cou’d raiſe a Bluſh,

And every Sigh I breath’d, heave this lov’d Boſom,

Which held ſuch ſoft Intelligence with mine,

And now o’erflows with a like Tide of Pleaſure.


Oh! yes, it do’s; it meets the vaſt Delight,

And takes the Thoughts ev’n of Elyſium from me.

Nor will I, as ſome peeviſh Beauty might,

Take light offence, that mine you did not mention;

Since ’tis my equalling Ariſtor’s Love

Is all the Charm, I wou’d be proud to boaſt of.


Believe not, that I ſlighted ſuch Perfections.

I ſaw you Fair, beyond the Fame of Helen;

But Beauty’s vain, and fond of new Applauſe,

Leaving the laſt Adorer in Deſpair

At his approach, who can but praiſe it better:

Whilſt Love, Narciſſus-like, courts his Reflection,

And ſeeks itſelf, gazing on other’s Eyes.

When this I found in yours, it bred that Paſſion,

Which Time, nor Age, nor Death, ſhall e’er diminiſh.


For Time, or Age, I think not of their Power.

But, after Death, Ariſtor, cou’d you love me,

Still call to me your Thoughts, when ſo far abſent,

And Bb7r 381

And mourn me ſleeping in that Rival’s Arms?


Yes; if I cou’d outlive my Amalintha,

Still ſhou’d I turn my Eyes to thy cold Grave,

Still love thee there, and wiſh to lie as low.

But why do’s ev’ry Period of thy Speech

Thus ſadly cloſe with that too mournful Subject?

Why, now I preſs this Queſtion, doſt thou weep,

Yet in my Boſom ſtrive to hide thy Tears?

Paleneſs is on thy Cheek, and thy damp Brow

Strikes to my Heart ſuch ſympathizing Cold,

As quenches all its Fire, but that of Love.

Oh! ſpeak my Life, my Soul, my Amalintha;

Speak, and prevent the boding Fears that tell me

Eternal Separation is at hand,

And after this, I ne’er ſhall claſp thee more.

Embraces her, and ſhe ſtarts and groans.


Oh! O’, O’, O’.


Nay, if the gentle foldings of my Love,

The tender circling of theſe Arms can wound,

’Tis ſure ſome inward Anguiſh do’s oppreſs thee,

Which too unkindly thou wilt ſtill keep ſecret.


Secret it ſhou’d have been, ’till Death had ſeal’d it;

Had not that Groan, and my Weak Tears betray’d me:

Speaks faintly.

For Death, which from Clarinthus I receiv’d,

Is come to ſnatch my Soul from theſe Embraces.


Oh fatal ſound! but let me not ſuppoſe it,

Till Art is weary’d for thy Preſervation.

Haſte to procure it Phila: all that hear me

Fly to her Aid; or you more ſpeedy Gods

The Bb7v 382

The Cure be yours, and Hecatombs attend you.

But none approach: then let me haſte to bring it,

Tho’ thus to leave her is an equal Danger.

Endeavours to go.


Ariſtor ſtay; nor let my cloſing Eyes

One Moment loſe the Sight that ever charm’d them.

No Art can bring relief; and melting Life

But lingers till my Soul receives th’Impreſſion

Of that lov’d Form, which ever ſhall be laſting,

Tho’ in new Worlds, new Objects wou’d efface it.


No, Amalintha; if it muſt be ſo,

Together we’ll expire, and trace thoſe Worlds,

As fond, and as united as before:

For know, my Love, the Sword of War has reach’d me;

Opening his Boſom.

And none wou’d I permit to bind this Wound,

Till to thy gentle Hand I cou’d reveal it.

The Blood uncheck’d ſhall now profuſely flow,

And Art be ſcorn’d, that cou’d but half reſtore me.


Oh! let me plead in Death againſt that Purpoſe,

Employ my Hand, yet warm, to cloſe the Wound,

And with my ſuppling Tears diſperſe the Anguiſh.

Your Country asks your ſtay, and more your Father:

This Blood is his, ally’d to all his Virtues,

By him more priz’d, than what ſupports his Frame,

Nor ſhou’d be laviſh’d thus without his Licence.

Oh! Ariſtomenes haſte to preſerve it,

Since Life from me departs, and Love is uſeleſs


She Dies. Aristor. Bb8r 383


Her fleeting Breath has borne far hence my Name:

But ſoon my following Spirit ſhall o’ertake her.

My Godlike Father gave her to my Arms,

And then reſign’d to her more powerful Claim

This purple Stream, which wafts me to poſſeſs her.

May every Power, that ſhields paternal Goodneſs,

Enfold his Perſon, and ſupport his Sway:

His dear remembrance take theſe parting Tears,

He weeps.

And then be free, my Soul, for ties more laſting,

Eternal Love, the faithful Lovers due,

In thoſe bleſt Fields, which ſtand diſplay’d before me.

My Amalintha――

He takes her in his Arms and dies. Enter Phila.


I ſhou’d have come, and urg’d his Preſervation,

If when I ſaw her fall my Strength had ſerved me:

But all my Cares departed with her Life,

And mine I hope is now for ever going.

She falls in a Swoon at Amalintha’s Feet. Shouts of Victory. Enter Demagetus, Arcaſius, Alcander, and ſeveral Officers, their Swords drawn as coming from Battle.


A glorious Day, and warmly was it fought:

Nor ever did a Victory more complete

Stoop Bb8v 384

Stoop to the General’s Valour――

Some Troops are order’d to ſecure Phærea;

And with to-morrow’s Sun he enters there

To take the Homage of the conquer’d Spartans.


They ſay, that Anaxander he has freed

As generouſly, as he’d ne’er known the Dungeon.


He did, at Prince Ariſtor’s kind Requeſt;

And now, with the high Marks of Conqueſt crown’d,

Is coming to declare to Amalintha

That all her Wiſhes, and her Fears are ended.

Turning to go into the Tent, he ſees the Bodies.

They are indeed; for ever, ever ended.

Oh! turn and ſee where that pale Beauty lies,

And faithful, dead Aristor, bleeding by her!


O ſudden Horror! where’s our Conqueſt now,

Our lofty Boaſts, and brave expected Triumphs?

Lie there, my Sword, beneath my Leader’s Feet;

Lays his Sword at Ariſtor’s Feet.

For under him I fought, and now weep for him.


We’ll all join to encreaſe the mournful Shower.

A Soldier for a Soldier’s Fall may weep,

And ſhed theſe Drops without unmanly Weakneſs.

A Sound of Trumpets.

But hark! the Gen’ral, how ſhall we receive him?

A while we’ll with our Bodies ſhade this Proſpect,

And tell him by our Looks, ſome Grief attends him;

Leſt all his Fortitude ſhou’d not ſupport

A Cc1r 385

A Change ſo ſudden in his wretched Fortune.

Nor can we learn from whence this Loſs proceeds.


Yes, that you may from me: Life yet remains,

And will admit of the too dire Relation.


Then gently bear her hence, and hear it from her; They lead off Phila.

That when the Sorrow, which at firſt muſt bar

All cold Enquiries, ſhall awhile be paſt,

The Gen’ral may be told to what he owes it.

But ſee! he enters; be we Sad and Silent:

For Oh! too ſoon this fading Joy muſt vaniſh.

They ſtand together before the Bodies. A Flourish of Drums and Trumpets, with Shouts of Joy. Enter ſeveral Officers and Soldiers, the Shepherds and Shepherdeſſes ſtrewing Flowers, follow’d by Ariſtomenes, his Sword drawn in his Hand, and a Wreath of Victory on his Head.


Enough my Friends! enough my Fellow-Soldiers!

And you kind Shepherds, and your gentle Nymphs,

Receive my Thanks for the Perfumes you ſcatter,

Which yet ſhall flouriſh under our Protection.

Shepherds, &c.

Great Ariſtomenes! Live long and happy!
Cc Others. Cc1v 386


Live long and happy, Father of Meſſenia!


Now to fair Amalintha wou’d I ſpeak

The joyful Tydings of this Day’s Atchievements:

Therefore let her be told, we wiſh her Preſence.

Seeing none move.

Ha! what none ſtir! perhaps Ariſtor’s with her:

Why let him tell it; from a Lover’s mouth,

’Twill bear a Sound more welcome and harmonious.

And ſure in Love and Battle none exceeds him,

The laſt you all can witneſs; you ſaw him Fight,

Saw the young Warrior with his Beaver up

Dart like the Bolt of Jove amongſt their Ranks,

And ſcatter ’em like an Oak’s far-ſhooting Splinters.

Will none confirm it? this is envious Silence.

Walks up and down.

Thou Demagetus, ha! thou’rt all in Tears,

And ſo are theſe that make a Wall about thee:

The Cauſe deliver, Oh! declare it quickly.


Enquire it not, my Lord; too ſoon ’twill find you.


I muſt prevent it by my haſty Search.

Reveal it you, or you, ſince all partake it:

To Alcander, &c.

What ſilent ſtill!――

If yet ye do not ſpeak, ye do not love me;

I find ye do not, ſince ye all are Speechleſs.

Ariſtor wou’d have ſpoke, had he been here.


Ariſtor’s here, but Oh! he cannot ſpeak. You Cc2r 387

You have it now, my Lord, and muſt weep with us.


Thy Tongue has warn’d my Eyes to ſeek the Centre: Looks down.

For round this Place I dare not let them ſtray,

Leſt they explain, too ſoon, thy fatal meaning.

Oh! Anaxander, had ſuch Trembling ſeiz’d me,

When at the Army’s Head I met thy Fury;

The pooreſt of thy Troops had cry’d me Coward.

Why ſo we’re all, there’s not a Man that is not;

We all dread ſomething, and can ſhrink with Terror:

Yet he that comes a Conqu’ror from the Field,

Shall find a vain Applauſe to crown his Valour,

Tho’ fainting thus, and ſweating cold with Fear.

Pauſes and leans on an Officer.

But didſt thou ſay, Ariſtor cou’d not ſpeak?

Oh! that I live to ask it! not anſwer to his Father!


Oh! never more!


The Sun will keep his Pace, and Time revolve,

Rough Winters paſs, and Springs come ſmiling on;

But Thou doſt talk of Never, Demagetus:

Yet ere Deſpair prevails, retract that Word

Whoſe cloudy diſtance bars the reach of Thought,

Nor lets one Ray of Hope e’er dawn beyond it.

Never, Oh never!


This Paſſion muſt riſe higher, ere it falls.

Divide, and let him know the worſt.

To the Officers.
Cc2 Ariſtom. Cc2v 388


Where is my Son? my Grief has paſs’d all Bounds,

All dallying Circumſtance, and vain Deluſion,

And will be told directly where to find him.


Oh! then behold him there!
They divide. He ſeeing the Bodies ſtands awhile amaz’d and ſpeechleſs, drops his Sword, then ſpeaks.


So look’d the World to Pyrrha, and her Mate;

So gloomy, waſte, ſo deſtitute of Comfort,

When all Mankind beſides lay drown’d in Ruin.

Oh! thou wert well inform’d, my evil Genius;

And the complaining Rocks mourn’d not in vain:

For here my Blood, my deareſt Blood I pay

For this poor Wreath, and Fame that withers like it;

Tears the Wreath, and throws himſelf upon his Son.

The Ground, that bore it, take the ſlighted Toy,

Whilſt thus I throw me on his breathleſs Body,

And groan away my Life on theſe pale Lips.

Oh! O’, O’, O’,――

Thus did I claſp him, ere the Battle join’d,

When Fate, which then had Doom’d him, mock’d my Arms,

Nor in their folds wou’d let me feel my Son.

Oh! that his Voice (tho’ low as then it ſeem’d)

Cou’d reach me now!――But the fond Wiſh is vain,

And all but this too weak to eaſe my Pain.

He takes the Sword that lay at Ariſtor’s Feet, and goes to fall upon it, Demagetus takes hold of it. Demag. Cc3r 389


Oh! hold, my Lord; nor ſtab at once your Army.
All the Officers and Soldiers kneel, Alcander ſpeaks.


We’re all your Sons; and if you ſtrike, my Lord,

The Spartans may come back, and take our Bodies;

For when yours goes, our Spirits ſhall attend it.

They all prepare to fall on their Swords.


Wou’d you then have me live, when thus unbowell’d,

Without the Charms of my Ariſtor’s preſence,

Without his Arm to ſecond me in Fight,

And in ſtill Peace his Voice to make it perfect?

He riſes in a Paſſion and comes forward on the Stage.

Yes, I will live, ye Sov’reign Pow’rs, I will:

You’ve put my Virtue to its utmoſt Proof;

Yet thus chaſtis’d, I own ſuperiour Natures,

And all your fixt Decrees this Sword ſhall further,

’Till Rhodes is reſcu’d, and my Task completed.

Who knows, but that the Way to your Elyſium

Is Fortitude in Ills, and brave Submiſſion;

Since Heroes whom your Oracles diſtinguiſh,

Are often here amidſt their Greatneſs wretched?

But yet my Heart! my lov’d, my loſt Ariſtor!


Let me ſucceed him in his active Duty,

And join with all the Earth to bring you Comfort.


Comfort on Earth! Oh! ’tis not to be found.

My Demagetus, thou haſt far to travel;

The Cc3v 390

The Bloom of Youth ſits graceful on thy Brow,

And bids thee look for Days of mighty Pleaſures,

For proſp’rous Wars, and the ſoft Smiles of Beauty,

For generous Sons, that my reflect thy Form,

And give thee Hopes, as I had, of their ſuccour.


With theſe indeed my Thoughts have ſtill been flatter’d.


Then let me draw this flatt’ring Veil aſide,

And bid thee here, here in this Face behold

How biting Cares have done the work of Age,

And in my beſt of Strength mark’d me a Dotard.

Defeated Armies, ſlaughter’d Friends are here;

Diſgraceful Bonds, and Cities laid in Aſhes:

And if thou find’ſt, that Life will yet endure it,

Since what I here have loſt――

So bow’d, ſo waining ſhalt thou ſee this Carcaſs,

That ſcarce thou wilt recall what once it was.

Then be inſtructed Thou, and All that hear me,

Not to expect the compaſs of ſoft Wiſhes,

Or conſtant Joys, which fly the fond Poſſeſſor.

Since Man, by ſwift returns of Good and Ill,

In all the Courſe of Life’s uncertain ſtill;

By Fortune favour’d now, and now oppreſt,

And not, ’till Death, ſecure of Fame, or Reſt.