By meanest instruments. Perhaps my soul
Is too much moved; pity a woman’s weakness,
Pity a mother, who has all to fear,
And nothing to neglect: let him appear;
I’ll see, and question him.
euricles.
Your orders, madam,
Shall be obeyed.
[To Ismenia.
Tell them to bring him here,
Before the queen.
mérope.
I know my cares are vain;
But grief overpowers, and hurries me to act
Perhaps imprudent; but you know I’ve cause
For my despair; they have dethroned my son,
And would insult the mother: Poliphontes
Hath taken advantage of my helpless state,
And dared to offer me his hand.
euricles.
Thy woes
Are greater even than thou thinkest they are.
I know this marriage would debase thy honor,
And yet I see it must be so; thy fate
Hath bound thee to it by the cruel tie
Of dire necessity: I know it wears
A dreadful aspect, yet perchance may prove
The only means of placing on the throne
Its rightful master, so the assembled chiefs
And soldiers think; they with—
mérope.
My son would ne’er
Consent to that: no: poverty and exile,
With all their pains, were far less dreadful to him
Than these base nuptials.
euricles.
If to assert his rights
Alone sufficed to seat him on the throne,
Doubtless his pride would spurn the shameful bond:
But if his soul is by misfortune taught
To know itself, if prudence guides his steps,
If his own interest, if his friends’ advice,
And above all, necessity, the first
Of human laws, have any influence o’er him,
He would perceive, that his unhappy mother
Could not bestow on him a dearer mark
Of her affection.
mérope.
Ha! what sayest thou?
euricles.
Truth,
Unwelcome truth, which nothing but my zeal,
And your misfortunes, should have wrested from me.
mérope.
Wouldst thou persuade me then, that interest e’er
Can get the better of my fixed aversion
For Poliphontes, you who painted him
In blackest colors to me?
euricles.
I described him
Even as he is, most dangerous and bold;
I know his rashness, and I know his power;
Naught can resist him, he’s without an heir.
Remember that: you say, you love Ægisthus.
mérope.
I do; and ’tis that love which makes the tyrant
Still more detested: wherefore talkest thou thus
Of marriage and of empire? speak to me
Of my dear son; and tell me if he lives;
Inform me, Euricles.
euricles.
Behold the stranger
Whom you desired to question; see, he comes.
SCENE II.
mérope, euricles, ægisthus in chains, ismenia, Guards.
ægisthus.
[At the bottom of the stage. To Ismenia.
Is that the great unfortunate, the queen,
Whose glory and whose sorrows reached even me
Amidst the desert wild where I was hid?
ismenia.
’Tis she.
ægisthus.
Thou great creator of mankind!
Thou, who didst form those matchless charms, look down
And guard thy image: virtue on a throne
Is sure the first and fairest work of heaven.
mérope.
Is that the murderer? Can such features hide
A cruel heart? Come near, unhappy youth,
Be not alarmed, but answer me; whose blood
Is on thy hands?
ægisthus.
O, queen, forgive me; fear,
Respect, and grief, bind up my trembling lips.
[Turning to Euricles.
I cannot speak; her presence shakes my soul
With terror and amazement.
mérope.
Tell me whom
Thy arm has slain.
ægisthus.
Some bold presumptuous youth,
Whom fate condemned to fall the wretched victim
Of his own rashness.
mérope.
Ha! a youth! my blood
Runs cold within me: didst thou know him?
ægisthus.
No:
Messene’s walls, her fields, and citizens,
Are new to me.
mérope.
And did this unknown youth
Attack thee then? ’twas in thy own defence?
ægisthus.
Heaven is my witness, I am innocent.
Just on the borders of Pamisus, where
A temple stands, sacred to Hercules,
Thy great progenitor, I offered up
To the avenger of wronged innocence
My humble prayers for thee; I had no victims,
No precious gifts to lay before him; all
I had to give him, was a spotless heart,
And simple vows, the poor man’s hecatomb:
It seemed as if the god received my homage
With kind affection, for I felt my heart
By more than common resolution fired: