University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

SCENE. The General's House.
Enter the King.
King.
Here dwells my stubborn Fair, I'll sooth her Pride,
And lay an humbled Monarch at her Feet.
But let her well consider if she's slow
To welcome Bliss, and dead to Glory's Charms,
Then my Resentment rises in Proportion
To this high Grace extended to my Slave,
And turns the Force of her own Charms against her:
Monarchs may Court, but cannot be Deny'd.
Enter the Queen veiled.
Amelia, dry thy Tears, and lay aside
That melancholly Veil.—Ha, Myris!

Queen.
Myris.
A Name that should like Thunder strike thine Ear,
And make thee tremble in this guilty Place:
But wherefore do'st thou think I meet thee here,
Not with mean Sighs, and deprecating Tears
To humble me before thee, and increase
The Number of thy Slaves, in hope to break
Thy Resolution, and avert thy Crime;
But to denounce, if thou shalt dare persist,
The Vengeance due to injur'd Heav'n, and me;
And by this Warning double thy Offence:
Think, think of Vengeance, 'tis the only Joy
Which thou hast left me; I'm no more thy Wife,
Nor Queen; but know, I am a Woman still.

Enter Auletes.
Aul.
May all the Gods watch o'er your Life and Empire,
And render Omens vain! so fierce the Storm,
Old Memphis from her deep Foundations shakes,
And such unheard-of Prodigies hang o'er us,
As make the Boldest tremble: See the Moon
Robb'd of her Light, discolour'd, without Form,
Appears a bloody Sign, hung out by Jove
To speak Peace broken with the Sons of Men:
The Nile, as frighted, shrinks within its Banks,
And as this Hour I past Great Isis' Temple,
A sudden Flood of Light'ning rush'd upon it,
And laid the Shrine in Ashes.

King.
Oh Mighty Isis!
Why all these Signs in Nature? why this Tumult
To tell me I am guilty? if my Crown
The Fates demand, why let them take it back.
My Crown indeed I may resign; but Oh!
Who can awake the Dead?—
'Tis hence these Spectres shock my midnight Thoughts,
And Nature's Laws are broke to discompose me;
'Tis I that whirl these Hurricanes in Air,
And shake the Earth's Foundations with my Guilt.
Oh Myris, give me back my Innocence!

Queen.
I bought it with an Empire.

King.
Cheaply sold!
Why did'st thou urge my lifted Arm to strike
The pious King, when my own Heart recoil'd?

Queen.
Why did you yield when urg'd, and by a Woman,
You that are vain of your superior Reason,
And swell with the Prerogative of Man?
If you succeed, our Counsel is of nought;
You own it, not accepted, though enjoy'd;
But steal the Glory, and deny the Favour;
Yet if a fatal Consequence attend,
Then we're the Authors, then your treacherous Praise
Allows us Sense enough to be condemn'd.

King.
'Tis prudent to dissemble with her Fury,
And wait a softer Season for my Love.
[Aside.
Bid Isis' Priests attend their King's Devotions,
I'll sooth with Sacrifice the angry Pow'rs;
Swift to my Dungeons, bid their darksome Wombs
Give up the numerous Captives of my Wars,
Ten thousand Lives to Heav'n devoutly pour,
Nor let the sacred Knife grow cool from Blood,
Till seven-fold Nile infected with the Stain,
In all his Streams flows Purple to the Main.
[Exit.

Queen.
Thin Artifice! I know the Sacrifice
You most intend.—But I will dash your Joys;
Thou, Victim, and thy Goddess both shall feel me.

Aul.
Madam, the Prince.

Queen.
And is he still afflicted?

Aul.
It grieves your faithful Servant to relate it;
He struggles manfully; but all in vain;
Sometimes he calls in Musick to his Aid,
He strives with Martial Strains to fire his Blood,
And rouze his Soul to Battle.—
Then he relapses into Love again,
Feeds the Disease, and doats upon his Ruin.

Queen.
Why seeks he here the Cause of all his Sorrows?

Aul.
He seeks not here Mandane, but her Father;
For Friendship is the Balm of all our Cares,
Melts in the Wound, and softens ev'ry Fate.

[Martial Musick.
Enter Myron at a distance.
Queen.
Heav'ns! what a Glory blazes from his Eye?
What Force! what Majesty in every Motion,
As at each Step he trod upon a Foe?

Myr.
O that this Ardor wou'd for ever last!
It shall; nor will I curse my Being more;
Chain'd Kings, and conquer'd Kingdoms are before me;
I'll bend the Bow, and launch the whistling Spear,
Bound o'er the Mountains, plunge into the Stream,
Where thickest Fauchions gleam, and Helmets blaze,
Rush in, and find Amusement from my Pain.
I'll number my own Heart among my Foes,
And Conquer it, or Dye.
[Exit.

Queen.
The Thoughts of War
Will soon dislodge the Fair One from his Breast—
But this has broken in on my Intent—
I wou'd remind thee of my late Commands.

Aul.
Madam, 'tis needless to remind your Slave:
At dead of Night I set the Prisoners free.

Queen.
Yes, set the Prisoners free—'tis great Revenge,
Such as my Soul pants after—It becomes me.
Oh it will gall the Tyrant! Stab him home,
And if one Spark of Gratitude survives,
Soften Syphoces to my fond Desire.
The Tyrant's Torment is my only Joy,
Ye Gods! or let me Perish, or Destroy,
Or rather both; for what has Life to boast
When Vice is tastless grown, and Virtue lost?
Glory and Wealth I call upon in vain,
Nor Wealth, nor Glory can appease my Pain;
My every Joy upbraids me with my Guilt,
And Triumphs tell me sacred Blood is spilt.
[Exit Queen.

Enter Myron.
Myr.
The shining Images of War are fled,
The fainting Trumpets languish in mine Ear,
The Banner's furl'd, and all the sprightly Blaze
Of burnish'd Armour, like the setting Sun,
Insensibly is vanish'd from my Thought:
No Battel, Siege, or Storm sustain my Soul
In wonted Grandeur, and fill out my Breast;
But Softness steals upon me, melting down
My rugged Heart in Languishment and Sighs,
And pours it out at my Mandane's Feet.—
I see her even this Moment stand before me,
Too Fair for Sight, and fatal to behold,
I have her here, I clasp her in my Arms;
And in the Madness of excessive Love
Sigh out my Heart, and bleed with Tenderness.

Aul.
My Lord, too much you cherish this Delusion;
She is another's.

Myr.
Do not tell me so.
Say rather she is dead: Each heav'nly Charm
Turn'd into Horror! Oh the Pain of Pains,
Is when the Fair One, whom our Soul is fond of,
Gives Transport, and receives it from another!—
How does my Soul burn up with strong Desire,
Now shrink into it self! Now blaze again!
I'll tear and rend the Strings that tye me to her:
If I stay longer here I am undone.

As he is going, Enter Nicanor.
Nic.
My Prince, (and since such Honours you vouchsafe)
My Friend, I have presum'd upon your Favour;
This is my Daughter's Birth-day, and this Night
I dedicate to Joys, which ever languish,
If you refuse to crown them with your Presence.

Myr.
Nicanor, I was warm on other Thoughts.—

Nic.
I am still near you in the Day of Danger,
In toilsome Marches, and the bloody Field,
When Nations against Nations clash in Arms,
And half a People in one Groan expire;
Why am I, with your Helmet, thrown aside,
Cast off, and useless in the hour of Peace?

Myr.
Since then you press it, I must be your Guest.—
Methinks I labour as I onward move,
As under Cheque of some controuling Power.
[Aside.
What can this mean? Wine may relieve my Thoughts,
And Mirth and Converse lift my Soul again.

[Exeunt.