University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

The Palace Garden.
Enter King and Tygranes Discoursing.
King.
The Clouds, my Lord, must be discharg'd, before
The joyfull Sun can fairly guild the Sky;
Allow her leave to weep and tell me, Sir,
How she receiv'd your Person.

Tygr.
As I approacht,
Her careless Tresses half dishevel'd hung
Like Sheaves, with which the Wind had been too bold;
Her Head on her bent Arm its burthen le'nt,
Whilst from her Eyes those Diamond quarries run,
The teary Streams that Dew'd her Rosal Cheeks,
Which as they fell bending to kiss her Lips,
Her Sighs drove back, to seek their Grave below.

King.
The Part's too passionate you act, my Lord.

Tygr.
The Queen of Sorrow ne'er was Dress'd like her,
So Beautifull she seem'd, so full of Grace
Amidst her Griefs, she might have charm'd a God.
She dry'd her Eyes, and with a mournfull Look
Beheld me fallen at her Princely Feet.

King.
Cou'd she be Cruel then?

Tygr.
My self, my Heart,
And Empire, were the Off'rings which I made,
But these, alas! too mean for her Acceptance,
She with Scorn deny'd; begg'd me to desist
My tedious Suit, and give her leave to dye.

King.
She's unworthy of you, Sir, but must
With my Commands to so much Vertue yield.

Tygr.
Thus on my Knees I beg you, Sir, to use
Your utmost Kindness: All the Endearments, which
A Father's Breast can to his Child's convey,
To charm her Favours in behalf of me.

King.
Pray doubt it not, nor do I question by degrees
T'effect your Ends. She must have time to wean
This Darling from her Bosome, her Mind will turn;
The Wind that veres to every point of th'Sphere,
Is not more changeable than Womans Will;
Yet when 'tis settl'd in some Corner Rests,
And plays the Sovereign there.

Tygr.
May that blest Season,
Spring of my Hopes, and Summer of my Life,
On Time's soft Wings fly swiftly to my Aid.

[Discover themselves.