Siroes | ||
SCENE VII.
Laodicealone.
And shall I then endure such cruel scorn?
Oh! no, Laodice; affront like this
Must be reveng'd. Shall that ungrateful boast
His triumph in my shame? A thousand foes
Will, at my bidding, rise at once against him.
It shall be so—his father must believe
The son his rival, both in love and empire;
And by my arts impell'd, shall now my brother
Araxes, offer to Medarses' aid
The troops in arms; and if I meet not all
My wish, at least I will not sigh alone.
Siroes | ||