 | Siroes |  |
SCENE III.
Enter Emira in a man's habit, under the name of Hydaspes.Em.
Ah! princes, wherefore this unhappy strife?
Forbear such contest as so ill beseems
The name of brethren. On this joyful day
Let not Seleucia view you hateful rivals,
But knit by equal ties of love and honour.
160
I strive to appease my brother's causeless anger,
And bear my wrongs in silence, but in vain.
Sir.
O! well feign'd modesty!
Em.
[to Sir.]
I'm not to learn
The meekness of Medarses.
Sir.
Dear Hydaspes,
It ever was his wont to veil his insults
With dark dissimulation.
Med.
[to Em.]
Mark, my friend,
His flushing face, his eyes' malignant glances,
That speak the hatred rankling in his heart.
Em.
[to Med.]
Depart, incense him not; leave me alone
In converse with him.
Sir.
O! perfidious.
Med.
Heavens!
Without a cause you now insult your brother.
Appease him, dear Hydaspes; say, in him
I venerate our Persia's great support,
And own, in Siroes now my sovereign lord.
Em.
Go, leave us then.
Med.
[aside.]
My triumph is at hand.
[Exit Medarses.
| Siroes | |