VOLTAIRE: 60+ Works in One Volume - Philosophical Writings, Novels, Historical Works, Poetry, Plays & Letters. Вольтер. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Вольтер
Издательство: Bookwire
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9788075835987
Скачать книгу
I saw him glorying in his crimes;

       Saw him admit the foe, and through the palace

       Spread fire and slaughter; yet appeared to those

       Who knew him not, the avenger of that king

       Whom he had slain: I pierced the savage crowd,

       And in my feeble arms upraised your son,

       And bore him thence; the pitying gods protected

       His helpless innocence: these fifteen years,

       From place to place I led him, changed my name

       To Polycletes, hid him from the foe,

       And now at last it seems have brought him hither,

       To see a tyrant on Messene’s throne,

       And Mérope the wife of Poliphontes.

      mérope.

       Thy tale has harrowed up my soul.

      euricles.

       He comes:

       ’Tis Poliphontes.

      mérope.

       Is it possible?

       Away, good Narbas, hide thee from his rage.

      narbas.

       Now, if Ægisthus e’er was dear to thee,

       Dissemble with the tyrant.

      euricles.

       We must hide

       This secret in the bottom of our hearts,

       A word may ruin all.

      mérope.

       [To Euricles.

       Go thou and guard

       That precious treasure well.

      euricles.

       O doubt it not.

      mérope.

       My hopes depend on thee: he is my son

       Remember, and thy king.—The monster comes.

      SCENE VI.

       Table of Contents

      mérope, poliphontes, erox, ismenia, Attendants.

      poliphontes.

       The altar is prepared, the throne awaits you,

       Our interests soon will with our hearts be joined:

       As king, and husband, ’tis my duty now

       Both to defend and to avenge you, madam:

       Two of the traitors I have seized already,

       Who shall repay the murder with their blood:

       But, spite of all my care, the tardy vengeance

       Hath seconded but ill my purposes:

       You told me you would wish yourself to slay

       The murderer, and I gave him to your justice.

      mérope.

       O that I might be my own great avenger!

      poliphontes.

       ’Tis a king’s duty, and shall be my care.

      mérope.

       Thine, saidst thou?

      poliphontes.

       Wherefore is the sacrifice

       Delayed? dost thou no longer love thy son?

      mérope.

       May all his foes meet with their due reward!

       But if this murderer has accomplices,

       By him perhaps I may hereafter learn

       Who killed my dear Cresphontes: they who slew

       The father would forever persecute

       The mother and the son: O if I e’er—

      poliphontes.

       I too could wish to be informed of that,

       And therefore I have taken him to my care.

      mérope.

       To thine?

      poliphontes.

       Yes, madam, and I hope to draw

       The secret from him.

      mérope.

       But you must not keep

       This murderer: I must have him; nay, you promised,

       You know you did—

       [Aside.

       O cruel fate! my son!

       What art thou doomed to?

       [To Poliphontes.

       Pity me, my lord!

      poliphontes.

       Whence is this sudden transport? he shall die.

      mérope.

       Who? he?

      poliphontes.

       His death shall satisfy thy soul.

      mérope.

       Ay: but I want to see, to speak to him.

      poliphontes.

       These starts of passion, and these sudden transports

       Of rage and tenderness, that face of horror,

       Might give me cause perhaps of just suspicion;

       And, to be plain with you, some strange disgust,

       Some groundless fears, some new alarm, hath raised

       This tempest in your soul; what have you heard

       From that old man who went so lately hence?

       Why doth he shun me? what am I to think?

       Who is he?

      mérope.

       O my lord! so lately crowned

       Do fears and jealousies already wait

       Around your throne?

      poliphontes.

       Why wilt not thou partake it?

       Then should I bid adieu to all my fears:

       The altar waits, prepared for Mérope

       And Poliphontes.

      mérope.

       Thou hast gained the throne,

       The gods have given it thee, and now thou wantest

       Cresphontes’ wife to make his kingdom sure.

       This crime alone—

      ismenia.

       O stop—

      mérope.

       My lord, forgive me;

       I am a wretched mother; I have lost

       My all; the gods, the cruel gods have robbed me

       Of every bliss: O give me, give me back

       The murderer of my son!

      poliphontes.

       This hand shall shed

       The traitor’s blood: come, madam, follow me.

      mérope.

       O gracious heaven! in pity to my woes,

       Preserve a mother, and conceal her weakness!

       End of the Third Act.

      ACT IV.

      SCENE