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Автор: Вольтер
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Her son is slain.

      narbas.

       Her son! Ægisthus! gods!

       And is Ægisthus dead?

      ismenia.

       All know it here

       Too well

      narbas.

       Her son?

      ismenia.

       A barbarous assassin

       Did slay him at Messene’s gates.

      narbas.

       O death,

       I did foretell thee: horror and despair!

       Is the queen sure, and art thou not deceived?

      ismenia.

       O ’tis too plain; we have undoubted proofs;

       It must be so: he is no more.

      narbas.

       Is this

       The fruit of all my care?

      ismenia.

       The wretched queen,

       Abandoned to despair, will scarce survive him:

       She lived but for her child, and now the ties

       Are loosed that bound her to this hated life:

       But, ere she dies, with her own hand she waits

       To pierce the murderer’s heart, and be revenged;

       Ev’n at Cresphontes’ tomb his blood shall flow.

       Soon will the victim, by the king’s permission,

       Be hither brought, to perish at her feet:

       But Mérope is lost in grief, and therefore

       Would wish to be alone: you must retire.

      narbas.

       If it be so, why should I seek the queen?

       I will but visit yonder tomb, and die.

      SCENE III.

       Table of Contents

      ismenia.

       [Alone.

       This old man seems most worthy: how he wept!

       Whilst the unfeeling slaves around us seem,

       Like their proud master, but to mock our sorrows:

       What interest could he have? yet tranquil pity

       Doth seldom shed so many tears; methought

       He mourned the lost Ægisthus like a father:

       He must be sought—but here’s a dreadful sight.

      SCENE IV.

       Table of Contents

      mérope, ismenia, euricles, ægisthus in chains, Guards, Sacrificers.

      mérope.

       [Near the tomb.

       Bring forth that horrid victim to my sight;

       I must invent some new unheard of torment,

       That may be equal to his crime; alas!

       Not to my grief, that were impossible.

      ægisthus.

       Dear have I bought thy momentary kindness,

       Guardians of innocence, protect me now!

      euricles.

       Before the traitor suffers, let him name

       His vile accomplices.

      mérope.

       [Coming forward.

       He must; he shall:

       Say, monster, what induced thee to a crime

       So horrible to nature! How had I

       E’er injured thee?

      ægisthus.

       Now bear me witness, gods,

       You who avenge the perjuries of men,

       If e’er my lips knew fraud or base imposture;

       I told thee naught but simple truth: thy heart,

       Fierce as it was, relented at my tale,

       And you stretched forth a kind, protecting hand;

       So soon is justice weary of her talk?

       Unwitting I have shed some precious blood:

       Whose was it, tell me, what new interest sways thee?

      mérope.

       What interest? barbarian!

      ægisthus.

       O’er her cheek

       A deadly paleness spreads: it wounds my soul

       To see her thus. O I would spill my blood

       A thousand times to save her.

      mérope.

       Subtle villain!

       How artfully dissembled is that grief!

       He kills me, and yet seems to weep my fate.

       [She falls back into the arms of Ismenia.

      euricles.

       Madam, avenge yourself, avenge the laws,

       The cause of nature, and the blood of kings.

      ægisthus.

       Is this the royal justice of a court?

       Ye praise and flatter first, and then condemn me.

       Why did I leave my peaceful solitude!

       O good old man, what will thy sorrows be,

       And thou, unhappy mother, whose dear voice

       So oft foretold—

      mérope.

       Barbarian, and hast thou

       A mother? I had been a mother yet

       But for thy rage, thou hast destroyed my son.

      ægisthus.

       If I am thus unhappy, if he was

       Indeed thy son, I ought to suffer for it;

       But though my hand was guilty, yet my heart

       Was innocent: heaven knows I would have given

       This day my life to save or his or thine.

      mérope.

       Didst thou take this armor from him?

      ægisthus.

       No:

       It is my own.

      mérope.

       What sayest thou?

      ægisthus.

       Yes; I swear

       By thee, by him, by all thy ancestors,

       My father gave to me that precious gift.

      mérope.

       Thy father! where? in Elis: how he moves me!

       What was his name? speak, answer.

      ægisthus.

       Polycletes:

       I’ve told thee so already.

      mérope.

       O thou rivest

       My heart: what foolish pity stopped my