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Merope

This day, to-morrow, yesterday, alike
I am, I shall be, have been, in my mind
Tow’rd thee; toward thy silence as thy speech.
Speak, therefore, or keep silence, which thou wilt.

Polyphontes

Hear me, then, speak; and let this mournful day,
The twentieth anniversary of strife,
Henceforth be honour’d as the date of peace.
Yes, twenty years ago this day beheld
The king Cresphontes, thy great husband, fall;
It needs no yearly offerings at his tomb
To keep alive that memory in my heart–
It lives, and, while I see the light, will live.
For we were kinsmen–more than kinsmen–friends;
Together we had grown, together lived;
Together to this isle of Pelops came
To take the inheritance of Heracles,
Together won this fair Messenian land–
Alas, that, how to rule it, was our broil!
He had his counsel, party, friends–I mine;
He stood by what he wish’d for–I the same;
I smote him, when our wishes clash’d in arms–
He had smit me, had he been swift as I.
But while I smote him, Queen, I honour’d him;
Me, too, had he prevail’d, he had not scorn’d.
Enough of this! Since that, I have maintain’d
The sceptre–not remissly let it fall–
And I am seated on a prosperous throne;
Yet still, for I conceal it not, ferments
In the Messenian people what remains
Of thy dead husband’s faction–vigorous once,
Now crush’d but not quite lifeless by his fall.
And these men look to thee, and from thy grief–
Something too studiously, forgive me, shown–
Infer thee their accomplice; and they say
That thou in secret nurturest up thy son,
Him whom thou hiddest when thy husband fell,
To avenge that fall, and bring them back to power.
Such are their hopes–I ask not if by thee
Willingly fed or no–their most vain hopes;
For I have kept conspiracy fast-chain’d
Till now, and I have strength to chain it still.
But, Merope, the years advance;–I stand
Upon the threshold of old age, alone,
Always in arms, always in face of foes.
The long repressive attitude of rule
Leaves me austerer, sterner, than I would;
Old age is more suspicious than the free
And valiant heart of youth, or manhood’s firm
Unclouded reason; I would not decline
Into a jealous tyrant, scourged with fears,
Closing in blood and gloom his sullen reign.
The cares which might in me with time, I feel,
Beget a cruel temper, help me quell!
The breach between our parties help me close!
Assist me to rule mildly; let us join
Our hands in solemn union, making friends
Our factions with the friendship of their chiefs.
Let us in marriage, King and Queen, unite
Claims ever hostile else, and set thy son–
No more an exile fed on empty hopes,
And to an unsubstantial title heir,
But prince adopted by the will of power,
And future king–before this people’s eyes.
Consider him! consider not old hates!
Consider, too, this people, who were dear
To their dead king, thy husband–yea, too dear,
For that destroy’d him. Give them peace! thou can’st.
O Merope, how many noble thoughts,
How many precious feelings of man’s heart,
How many loves, how many gratitudes,
Do twenty years wear out, and see expire!
Shall they not wear one hatred out as well?

Merope

Thou hast forgot, then, who I am who hear,
And who thou art who speakest to me? I
Am Merope, thy murder’d master’s wife;
And thou art Polyphontes, first his friend,
And then … his murderer. These offending tears
That murder moves; this breach that thou would’st close
Was by that murder open’d; that one child
(If still, indeed, he lives) whom thou would’st seat
Upon a throne not thine to give, is heir,
Because thou slew’st his brothers with their father.
Who can patch union here? What can there be
But everlasting horror ‘twixt us two,
Gulfs of estranging blood? Across that chasm
Who can extend their hands?… Maidens, take back
These offerings home! our rites are spoil’d to-day.