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_ Some rape, I guess.

_Cas. _ That's near the true design, and yet mistaken;
'Tis Paris, bearing from your Spartan shore
The beauteous Helen. How do you approve it?

_Cleom. _ Not in the least, for 'tis a scurvy piece.

_Cas. _ And yet 'tis known to be Apelles' hand.
The style is his; you grant he was a master.

_Cleom. _ 'Tis scurvy still, because it represents
A base dishonest act; to violate
All hospitable rites, to force away
His benefactor's wife:--Ungrateful villain!
And so the gods, the avenging gods have judged.

_Cleon. _ Was he a Spartan king that suffered this?
Sure he revenged the rape.

_Cleom. _ He did, my boy,
And slew the ravisher.

_Cas. _ Look better, sir; you'll find it was no rape.
Mark well that Helen in her lover's arms:
Can you not see, she but affects to strive?
She heaves not up her hands to heaven for help,
But hugs the kind companion of her flight.
See how her tender fingers strain his sides!
'Tis an embrace; a grasping of desire;
A very belt of love, that girds his waist.
She looks as if she did not fear to fall,
But only lose her lover, if she fell.
Observe her eyes; how slow they seem to roll
Their wishing looks, and languish on his face!
Observe the whole design, and you would swear,
She ravished Paris, and not Paris her.

_Cleom. _ Sparta has not to boast of such a woman;
Nor Troy to thank her, for her ill-placed love.

_Cas. _ But Paris had. As for the war that followed,
'Twas but a fable of a Grecian wit,
To raise the valour of his countrymen:
For Menelaus was an honest wretch;
A tame good man, that never durst resent;
A mere convenient husband, dull and slavish,
By nature meant the thing, the lovers made him.

_Cleom. _ His goodness aggravates their crime the more.
Had Menelaus used his Helen ill,
Had he been jealous, or distrusted both,
I would allow a grain or two for love,
And plead in their excuse.

_Cas. _ There was their safety, that he was not jealous.
What would you more of him? he was a fool,
And put the happy means into their hands.

_Cleom. _ I cannot much commend my countryman.

_Cas. _ Indeed, my lord, your countryman was dull,
That did not understand so plain a courtship.
Have Spartans eyes for nothing, not to see
So manifest a passion?

_Cleom. _ Yes, too well. -- [_Aside. _
Madam, your goodness interests you too much
In Helen's cause. I have no more to urge,
But that she was a wife: that word, a wife,
In spite of all your eloquence, condemns her.

_Cas. _ You argue justly; therefore 'twas a crime:
But, had she been a mistress, not a wife,
Her love had been a virtue, to forsake
The nauseous bed of a loathed fulsome king,
And fly into a sprightly lover's arms.
Her love had been a merit to her Paris,
To leave her country, and, what's more, her kingdom,
With a poor fugitive prince to sail away,
And bear her wealth along, to make him happy.

_Cleom. _ You put your picture in the fairest light:
But both the lovers broke their plighted vows;
He to Oenone, she to Menelaus.

_Cas. _ The gods, that made two fools, had done more justly,
To have matched Menelaus with Oenone.
Think better of my picture, it deserves
A second thought; it speaks; the Helen speaks.

_Cleon. _ It speaks Egyptian then; a base dishonest tongue.

_Cas. _ You are too young to understand her language. --
[_To_ CLEON.
Do not thank me, [_To_ CLEOM.
Till I have brought your business to perfection.
Doubt not my kindness; nothing shall be wanting
To make your voyage happy.

_Cleom. _ I only fear the excess of your full bounty,
To give me more than what my wants require.
[_Exeunt_ CLEOM. _and_ CLEON.

_Cas. _ Meaning, perhaps, my person and my love:
I would not think it so; and yet I fear,
And while I fear, his voyage shall be hindered.
No breath of wind
Can stir, to waft him hence, unless I please:
I am the goddess that commands the seas.
In vain he vows at any other shrine,
My heart is in his hands, his fate's in mine.
[_Exit_ CASSANDRA.




ACT III.


SCENE I. --_The King's Apartment. _

_A Table set. _ PTOLEMY, SOSIBIUS, CASSANDRA _sitting_: PTOLEMY _at
the upper end_; CASSANDRA _sitting on the one side_, SOSIBIUS _on
the other_.

_Ptol. _ I must confess, 'twas obvious.

_Sosib. _ He said he could command them with his nod:
Can he do this with mercenaries, raised
Not at his charge, but yours? by you maintained?
What could he more, had they been Spartans born?

_Cas. _ What would you hence infer?

_Sosib. _ What you observed:
Some are born kings, and so is Cleomenes.

_Cas. _ A great soul dares not call himself a villain.
He has that interest, and will use it nobly;
To serve, and not to ruin his protector.

_Sosib. _ Is Egypt's safety, and the king's, and your's,
Fit to be trusted on a bare suppose,
That he is honest? Honest, let him be;
But on his own experiment, not ours.
Man is but man; unconstant still, and various;
There's no to-morrow in him, like to-day.
Perhaps the atoms rolling in his brain
Make him think honestly this present hour;
The next, a swarm of base, ungrateful thoughts
May mount aloft; and where's our Egypt then?
Who would trust chance, since all men have the seeds
Of good and ill, which should work upward first?

_Cas. _ All men! then you are one; and by that rule,
Your wicked atoms may be working now
To give bad counsel, that you still may govern.

_Sosib. _ I would the king would govern.

_Cas. _ Because you think I have too much command.

_Ptol. _ Would you would rule me both by turns, in quiet,
And let me take my ease!

_Cas. _ Then my turn's first.

_Sosib. _ Our master's safety, in sound reason, ought
To be preferred to both.

_Ptol. _ So thinks Cassandra too.

_Cas. _ No; court Sosibius, and cast Cassandra off.

_Ptol. _ What have I said, or done,
To merit this unkindness?
Tell me but what you think of Cleomenes,
And be my oracle.

_Cas. _ I know him grateful.

_Sosib. _ To know him grateful, is enough for Jove.

_Cas. _ And therefore not too much for me in Egypt:
I say, I know him honest.

_Ptol. _ Then I know it.
Now may Sosibius speak?

_Cas. _ He may; but not to contradict my knowledge.

_Sosib. _ Then I concur, to let him go for Greece;
And wish our Egypt fairly rid of him.
For, as our Apis, though in temples fed,
And under golden roofs, yet loaths his food,
Because restrained; and longs to roam in meads,
Among the milky-mothers of the herd:
So, Cleomenes, kept by force in Egypt,
Is sullen at our feasts, abhors our dainties,
And longs to change them for his Spartan broth[43].
He may be dangerous here; then send him hence,
With aid enough to conquer all he lost,
And make him formidable to mankind.

_Cas. _ He may be formidable then to us?
That thou wouldst say.

_Sosib. _ No; for you know him grateful.

_Cas. _ Would thou wouldst learn to speak without a double,
Thou Delphian statesman! [_Rises. _

_Sosib. _ Would I could know your wishes, that I might!
I would but smooth their way, and make them easy. [_Bowing. _

_Cas. _ Good old man! [_Smiling. _
A little over zealous, but well-meaning.
My wishes are the honour of my king;
That Ptolemy may keep his royal word,
And I my promise, to procure this aid.
If to be mistress signifies command,
Let this be done; if not, the king may find
Another beauty, worthier of his bed,
And I another lover, less ungrateful.

_Ptol. _ Let Egypt sink before that fatal day!
No, we are one; Cassandra, we are one;
Or I am nothing; thou art Ptolemy.

_Cas. _ Now you deserve to be the first of kings,
Because you rank yourself the first of lovers.
What can I do to show Cassandra grateful?
Nothing but this--
To be so nice in my concerns for you;
To doubt where doubts are not; to be too fearful;
To raise a bug-bear shadow of a danger,
And then be frighted, though it cannot reach you.

_Sosib. _ Be pleased to name your apprehensions, madam.

_Cas. _ Plain souls, like mine, judge others by themselves;
Therefore I hold our Cleomenes honest.
But since 'tis possible, though barely so,
That he may prove ungrateful,
I would have pledges given us of his faith;
His wife, his mother, and his son, be left
As hostages in Egypt.

_Sosib. _ Admirable!
Some god inspired you with this prudent counsel.

_Ptol. _ I thought so too, but that I durst not speak.

_Sosib. _ Leave me to manage this.

_Cas. _ My best Sosibius!
But do it surely, by the easiest means;
Infuse it gently; do not pour it down:
Let him not think he stands suspected here;
And, least of all, by me.

_Sosib. _ He shall not, madam. --
Now, sir, the illumination feast attends you;
For Apis has appeared.

_Ptol. _ Why then I must be formal;
Go to the temple. --
Come, my fair Cassandra,
That I may have an object worth my worship. [_Aside. _

_Cas. _ The God that I adore is in my breast;
This is the temple; this the sacrifice.
But to the powers divine we make appeal,
With great devotion, and with little zeal.
[_Exeunt_ PTOL. _and_ CAS.

_Sosib. _ [_Solus. _] Yes, yes, it shall be done; but not her way. --
Call in my son Cleanthes. --This Cassandra
Is our enchanting syren; she that sings
Our Ptolemy into secure destruction.
In vain I counsel him to avoid his ruin:
These women-charmers, oh they have a devil
Too strong to dispossess. --Call in my son.
[_Goes to the door. _

_Enter_ CLEANTHES.

Cleanthes, are you Cleomenes' friend,
Or only seem you such?

_Clean. _ To seem to be, and not be what I seem,
Are things my honest nature understands not.

_Sosib. _ But you must love your king and country more.

_Clean. _ Yes, when I have a king and country,
That can deserve my love.
Egypt, as Egypt is, deserves it not:
A people baser than the beasts they worship;
Below their pot-herb gods, that grow in gardens:
The king--

_Sosib. _ Go to; young man, whate'er he be,
I must not hear my master vilified.

_Clean. _ Why did you name him then? Were I at prayers.
And even for you, whom as my soul I love,
If Ptolemy should come across my thoughts,
A curse would follow, where I meant a blessing.

_Sosib. _ 'Tis well, 'tis well I am so fond a father;
Those words were death in any other mouth.
I know too much of you; you love the Spartan
Beyond your king and country.

_Clean. _ 'Tis a truth
So noble, I would own it to the gods,
And they be proud to hear it.

_Sosib. _ Confess, you love him better than your father.

_Clean. _ No; but I love him equal with my father.

_Sosib. _ Say better, and say true.
If we were opposite, and one must fall,
Whom wouldst thou save?

_Clean. _ Neither; for both would die,
Before I could resolve.

_Sosib. _ If I command thee
To break thy friendship with him, wouldst thou?

_Clean. _ No.

_Sosib. _ Why, then thou hast confessed, thou lovest him more.

_Clean. _ Not so: for, should he bid me disobey,
Or not love you, thus would I answer him,
As I have answered you.

_Sosib. _ Ungrateful boy!

_Clean. _ You bid me tell you true, and this is my reward.

_Sosib. _ Go from my sight!

_Clean. _ I will; but would not go
Without your blessing.

_Sosib. _ O, so well I love thee,
That I could curse thee for not loving me! --
Stay, I would send thee on a message to him,
But that I fear thy faith.

_Clean. _ You wrong my piety.

_Sosib. _ It much concerns my interest, which is thine.
Wouldst thou deliver what I have to say?
Wouldst thou induce his reason to comply?

_Clean. _ Both; granting your proposals honourable:
If not, employ some mercenary tongue,--
The court affords you store,--and spare my virtue.

_Sosib. _ I would have Cleomenes sent away
With royal aid.

_Clean. _ You promised him he should.

_Sosib. _ And would have thee persuade him to this voyage.

_Clean. _ A welcome errand: Oh my dear, dear father!

_Sosib. _ But on my terms, mark that; my terms, Cleanthes.

_Clean. _ I feared the statesman in you.

_Sosib. _ I would have Egypt safe; that's all my interest:
And therefore he must leave behind, for pawns,
His mother, wife, and son.

_Clean. _ 'Tis clogging of a gift; 'tis base, mean counsel.
I hope you gave it not.

_Sosib. _ No, 'twas Cassandra:
But she would have that odium cast on me;
I am her beast of burden, and must bear it.

_Clean. _ I never can bely so good a father;
But this I'll do:
The message shall be faithfully delivered,
And all the strumpet stand exposed to shame.

_Sosib. _ Thou hitst my meaning; but he must be secret,
Must seem to take the favour as from her,
And lay the hardship of the terms on me.

_Clean. _ He shall.

_Sosib. _ And thou wilt gild this bitter pill;
For there's no other way to go from hence,
But leaving these behind.

_Clean. _ A beam of thought comes glancing on my soul. --
[_Aside. _
I'll undertake it,
The pledges shall be left.

_Sosib. _ My best Cleanthes! [_Embraces him. _
But haste, and lose no time.

_Clean. _ I'm all on fire to serve my friend and father.
[_Exit_ CLEANTHES.

_Sosib. _ [_Alone. _] This Cleomenes ought to be dispatched;
Dispatched the safest way: he ought to die.
Not that I hate his virtue; but I fear it.
The mistress drives my counsels to the leeward.
Now I must edge upon a point, of wind;
And make slow way, recovering more and more,
Till I can bring my vessel safe ashore. [_Exit_ SOSIB.


SCENE II. --_Of a Temple with Illuminations. An Altar_, APIS
_painted above; Priests and Choristers_.

PTOLEMY, CASSANDRA, _Courtiers, men and women, all decently
placed. Musick, Instrumental and Vocal. Then_ PTOLEMY, _taking_
CASSANDRA _by the hand, advances to the Altar of_ APIS, _bowing
thrice, and gives the High Priest a purse. Soft Musick all the
while_ PTOLEMY _and_ CASSANDRA _are adoring and speaking_.

_Ptol. _ Soul of the universe, and source of life,
Immortal Apis, thou thrice holy fire,
Hear Egypt's vows and mine! If, as we dream,
Egyptian earth, impregnated with flame,
Sprung the first man,
Preserve thy primitive plantation here!
Then, for myself, thy type, and thy vicegerent,
Roll from my loins a long descent of kings,
Mixed of Cassandra's kindly blood and mine.
Mine be she only, and I only hers!
And when I shall resolve again to thee,
May she survive me, and be queen of Egypt:
Hear this, and firm it with some happy omen!
[_An Augury portending good success arises from the Altar. _

_Omnes. _ Apis be praised for this auspicious omen!
[PTOLEMY _bowing retires, and seems pleased_.

_Cas. _ [_Kneels. _] Great power of Love! who spread'st thy gentle fire
Through human hearts, art every where adored;
Accept these vows, in show to Apis paid,
And make his altar thine! hear not that wretch,
Because his prayers were not addressed to thee;
Or only hear his last, that I may reign!
Make Cleomenes mine, and mine alone.
Give us a flight secure, a safe arrival,
And crown our wishes in each others arms.
Hear this, and firm it with some happy omen!
[_A bad omen arises from the flames of the Altar. _

_Omnes. _ Avert this omen, Apis!

_Cas. _ [_Rises. _] Accursed be thou, grass-eating foddered god!
Accursed thy temple! more accursed thy priests!
The gods are theirs, not ours; and when we pray
For happy omens, we their price must pay.
In vain at shrines the ungiving suppliant stands;
This 'tis to make a vow with empty hands:
Fat offerings are the priesthood's only care;
They take the money, and heaven hears the prayer.
Without a bribe their oracles are mute;
And their instructed gods refuse the suit.
[_Exit_ CASSANDRA _in a fury, King and Attendants
follow. Scene closes. _


SCENE III. --_The Port of Alexandria. _

_Enter_ CLEOMENES, _and_ CLEANTHES.

_Cleom. _ The propositions are unjust and hard;
And if I swallow them, 'tis as we take
The wrath of heaven.
We must have patience, for they will be gods,
And give us no account of what we suffer.

_Clean. _ My father much abhors this middle way,
Betwixt a gift and sale of courtesy.
But 'tis the mistress; she that seemed so kind,
'Tis she, that bears so hard a hand upon you;
She that would half oblige, and half affront.

_Cleom. _ Let her be what she is: that's curse enough.
But such a wife, a mother, and a son!
Oh sure, ye gods! when ye made this vile Egypt,
Ye little thought, they should be mortgaged here!
My only comfort
Is, that I trust these precious pawns with thee;
For thou art so religiously a friend,
That I would sooner leave them in thy hands,
Than if I had security from heaven,
And all the gods to answer for their safety.

_Clean. _ Yes, yes; they shall be safe;
And thou shall have a pledge,
As strong as friendship can make over to thee.
Deny me not, for I must go with thee,
And share what fate allots for thee in Greece.
[CLEOMENES _looks discontentedly_.

Nay, cast not on me that forbidding frown;
But let me be their pawn, as they are thine:
So I shall have thee wholly to myself,
And be thy wife, thy mother, and thy son,
As thou art all to me.

_Cleom. _ Oh friend! [_Sighs, and wipes his eyes. _

_Clean. _ What wouldst thou say, my better part?

_Cleom. _ No more, but this, that thou art too unkind,
When even in kindness thou wouldst overcome.

_Clean. _ Let me be proud; and pardon thou my pride.
Base, worthless Egypt has no other pawn,
To counter-balance these, but only me.
'Twas on such terms alone I durst propose it.
Shalt thou leave these,
And I not leave a father, whom I love?
Come, come, it must be so.
We'll give each other all we have besides;
And then we shall be even. --Here they are!
I leave thee. Break those tender ties of nature,
As gently as thou canst; they must be broken.
[_Going, returns. _
But, when thou seest Cassandra, curb thy spleen;
Seem to receive the kindness as from her;
And, if thou think'st I love thee, for my sake,
Remembering me, strive to forget my father. [_Exit_ CLEAN.

_Enter_ CLEORA, CRATESICLEA, _and_ CLEONIDAS.

_Cleom. _ But how can I sustain to tell them this,
[_Walking from them. _
Even in the gentlest terms!
There are not words in any tongue so soft
As I would use: the gods must have a new one,
If they would have me speak.

_Crat. _ How, king of Sparta! When your fortune smiles,
A glorious sunshine, and a gloomy soul?
The gods love chearfulness, when they are kind;
They think their gifts despised, and thrown away
On sullen thankless hearts.

_Cleor. _ I hear, my dearest lord, that we shall go.

_Cleom. _ Go!

_Cleon. _ What a mournful echo makes my father!
By Mars, he stifles _go_ upon his tongue,
And kills the joyful sound; he speaks so low,
That heaven must listen, if it hear his thanks.

_Cleom. _ Yes, I shall go; but how?

_Cleor. _ With Egypt's aid.

_Cleon. _ With his own soul and sword, a thousand strong;
And worth ten Egypts, and their ten thousand gods.

_Crat. _ There's something more in this, than what we guess;
Some secret anguish rolls within his breast,
That shakes him like an earthquake, which he presses,
And will not give it vent: I know him well.
He blushes, and would speak, and wants a voice;
And stares and gapes like a forbidden ghost,
Till he be spoke to first. --Tell me, my son!

_Cleom. _ Mother, I will. --And yet I cannot neither. [_Aside. _
Mother!