Presume audaciously to proffer love
To Alexander’s daughter, and to mine.
cassander.
Still with more rigor I condemn myself;
But then I love, to frantic love give way.
Olympia’s mine; who was her sire I know;
Like him I am a king, I have the right,
I have the power, in fine, Olympia’s mine.
Her fate and mine are not to be disjoined.
Neither her fears nor you, the gods, my crimes,
Nor aught shall break a tie so sanctified;
The gods did not my penitence reject.
When they united us they pardoned all.
But if you’d rob me of my charming bride,
Whose hand I have received and plighted faith,
This blood you first must shed, pluck out this heart
Which beats for her alone, which you detest.
No privilege your altars shall protect,
Who murdered now shall sacrilege commit.
I’ll from this temple, from your very arms,
From the unpitying gods bear off my wife.
I seek for death, ’tis my desire, my wish.
But I’ll the husband of Olympia die.
In spite of you I’ll carry to the grave
The tenderest love, and most illustrious name,
And grief for an involuntary crime,
Which will the manes of her sire appease.
[Exit Cassander with Sosthenes.
SCENE IV.
statira, olympia.
statira.
What horrid blasphemies have reached my ear?
Daughter, how dearly for thy life I pay!
The horrors which I feel you suffer, too,
My grief I in your eyes conspicuous read;
Our hearts still sympathize. Your kind embraces
And deep-fetched sighs console my wounded soul;
Because you share my griefs, I feel them less;
In you I find a shelter from the storm.
I brave my fate since you possess a heart
Worthy of Alexander and of me.
olympia.
Heaven knows my heart was ne’er by nature formed
To copy after yours, to be inspired
By such high sentiments, such swelling virtues.
O widow of famed Alexander, sprung
From famed Darius, wherefore being torn
From thy maternal arms, was I brought up
By this Cassander, thy most mortal foe?
Why on Olympia did your assassin
Unasked new favors every day confer?
Why did he not with cruel hand oppress me?
Too dangerous favors! why was I beloved?
Heavens, who do I behold in this retreat!
[Antigones advances.
SCENE V.
statira, olympia, antigones.
antigones.
—Retire not queen.
You see a king by Alexander taught.
His widow I respect and will defend.
You from that altar’s foot again might rise
To the high rank which you possessed before;
Replace your daughter there, and vengeance take
Of that proud ravisher who injures both.
Your story’s known, and every heart is yours;
All men are weary of those tyrants’ yoke,
Who at your husband’s death the empire seized.
Your name this revolution will support;
As your defender will you own me here?
statira.
Yes, if ’tis pity that directs your heart,
And if this friendly offer is sincere.
antigones.
I will not suffer an audacious youth
To gain a double right to Cyrus’ throne,
When of your virtuous daughter’s hand possessed.
He is unworthy, and I cannot doubt
But you will never grant him your consent.
I have not to the priest explained myself:
Though I came hither as a worshipper,
Who to the gods for clemency applies,
I come before you with fierce vengeance armed.
The widow of the conqueror may forget
Her greatness, but the honor of her race
She never can forget or overlook.
statira.
I’m weary both of life and of the throne;
One’s taken from me, the other near an end.
If from an impious ravisher you snatch
The only comfort heaven has left my woe:
If you protect her and avenge her sire,
I’ll own you as my tutelary god.
Oh! sir, whilst on life’s utmost verge I stand,
Preserve my daughter from the dangerous crime
Of marrying him whose bloody malice strove
Her hapless mother to deprive of life.
antigones.
Say worthy offspring of the conqueror,
Dost thou accept the offer which I make?
olympia.
Cassander I should hate.—
antigones.
—You then must grant
The prize, the noble prize I come to ask.
Against my all I will assert your cause,
Since I deserve you be my recompense.
’Tis this I ask, all other prize I scorn,
Such worth should never be Cassander’s lot;
Speak: the unequalled glory I will owe
To this right arm, the queen, and to yourself.
statira.
Decide.—
olympia.
—My scattered spirits let me first
Awhile recover. Scarce my eyes are opened,
Trembling and terrified from slavery,