University of Virginia Library

The SCENE, The Prison of Orontes, He is discovered lying bound as before.
Oron.
The Gods are deaf, to them I cry, in vain,
Unmov'd, they see, and pitty not our pain:
But since, for all our ills, one Cure they gave,
Why should we ask, what we already have?
Death, to all Troubles, gives a gentle end,
Does Loves, the Worlds, and Natures faults, amend.
The way to Life's but one, not easily found,
To Death, the ways are plain, and do abound,
The Gods, put nothing, in our power more sure,
To shew, it was, for humane ills the Cure.
To thee, blest Cure, I now resolve to fly,
The last, but most assured, Remedy.

Enter Statira and Cleone.
Stat.
Ah Prince! what barbarous Heart, has bound those hands?
And fetter'd them, with such unworthy Bands?
Those hands, which have such glorious Actions done,
Which have so many Laurels nobly, won?
Those hands, which were by Heav'n design'd, to bear
A Scepter, and not slavish Chains, to wear.
Can Love do this? Can Love, in fetters bind?
Can Love, thus cruel be? and thus unkind?

Oron.
Since for your sake, I do these fetters ware,
Than Crowns, or Laurels, they more glorious are:
They're full of glory, and of pleasure too,
Crowns I prize less, than suffering for you.
Love's noble Bond, which binds my Heart, I prize,
And tho your Slave, Roxana's Chains, dispise.

Stat.
Those Chains, Orontes, are more justly mine.
Roxana meant them, for my hands, not thine:
She could no other way, with all her Art,
But by afflicting me, subdue your Heart
She knew, that I could, my own sufferings, bear,
And understood, that yours, touch'd me more near
This visit then, not from her kindness springs,
Her Cruelty, now, us together brings,
That by your suff'rings, I might Torment find,
And by my Torment, she might move your mind.

Oron.
These suff'rings, Madam, I should count but light,
Did they not keep me from your beauteous sight,
Whilst I enjoy, that happiness, I find
No Grief, can touch, the quiet of my Mind,
Your sight, my Sorrows and my Griefs, destroys,
And hides all other Passions, in my Joys:
So the admir'd Elixir does enfold,
Such Virtue, which base Mettals turns, to Gold

Enter Perdicas, Roxana, Hesione, with Guards and four Blacks with Crooked Scymiters by their sides, and strangling Cords in their hands.
Roxa.
Too long, too long, Statira, you have liv'd,
And me, of all my peaceful Joys, depriv'd,
My foolish pitty, has my Torment been,
But now, no more, against my self, I'le sin.
My Actions past, I'le not excuse to you,
Nor Reasons give, for what I, now, shall do,
It is by Pow'r, that Gods, and Kings do Reign,
And by my pow'r, I'le, now, my will obtain.
To these extreams, that Man, has made me fly,
[Pointing to Orontes
'Tis he, has urg'd me, thus to make you dye
For I have vow'd, you shall no longer live,
[pointing to the black mates
From those black hands, you shall your Death, receive
Unless you will Orontes, now resign,
And what is more, perswade him to be mine.

Perd.
And, I, Orontes, must to you declare,
That I have sworn, your Life, I will not spare,
If you will not Statira quit to me,
I now am Master of your Destinie,

Stat.
I do not doubt, Roxana, but you will,
What you'ave design'd, with cruelty, fulfil.
For your black Crimes, to all the World proclame
You have no sence of Honour, or of shame
But end, what you' ave begun—for know that I
Your Pitty scorn, and Cruelty defie.
In vain, you think, to make me quit for fear,
What is, than Life, a thousand times more dear.
To threaten me, with Death, in vain you try,
'Tis more to quit Orontes, than to dye.

Oron.
This base Tyrannick way, you may pursue,
[To Perdicas
Who ne'r yet Honour, or true Valour knew,
By them alone, you should advance your sute,
For her, with blood, and services dispute.
But, like a Robber, you have seiz'd your prey,
Tho a more safe, yet more ignoble way.
In thee, what mark, of Valour can be found,
Who thus dost treat a Prince, who, like a Slave, is bound.

Perd.
Thy Life, Orontes, now, at stake, does lye,
'Tis in her choyce, if you shall live, or dye.
[Pointing to Statira
By thy advice, or of her own accord,
Let her resolve—
If she, Orontes, does thy Life esteem,
She soon, may thee, from Death, and Bonds, redeem.

Roxa.
And if Orontes, does Statira love,
That Death, which threatens her, He may remove.
Determine strait, if Life, to her you'l give,
Few are the moments else, she has to live.

Oron.
Fair Queen, what, is it, you resolve to do?

[To Statira
Stat.
What's just: I have resolv'd, to dye for you.

Oron.
Your Life, fair Queen, is sacred, and divine,
More worth, than are a thousand, such as mine:
It is unjust, that you should dye, for me,
My Death, perhaps, may end your miserie.

Stat.
You are unjust, if you my Death lament,
Or seek to hinder, this my last content.
For this, Orontes, is the only way,
I'ave left, my mighty debt, to you to pay.
Your Life, for me, you often did expose,
From me, your trouble, and your Danger grows,
You' ave made your Love, and Valour nobly known,
Which I till now, ne'r had the pow'r, to own.
But now, Orontes, I some proofs will give,
Since for your sake, I will no longer live.
That my Affection, to that hight is grown,
It cann't, by fear of Death, be overthrown:
My Death, dear Prince, shall seale, my Love to you,
And witness for me, that my Love was true.

Oron.
What happiness is this, you give to me!
Nothing can add, to my Felicity,
Now you, for me, have so great kindness shown,
And, what I ne'r deserv'd, your Love made known:
But, Madam, I request, and humbly sue,
That you will live, and let me die, for you.

Stat.
Alas! in Life, in Liberty, or a Throne,
What pleasure can there be, when you are gone?
All our Felicities below, we find,
Are currant made, and measur'd by the mind:
From me, all joys, all pleasures, soon will fly,
And torments seize me, when my Prince shall dye
I'de have you live, Orontes—but live mine,
You to Roxana, I can ne'r resign.
My Life, I can resign, and Empire too,
Those I can give her, but not give her you.

Oron.
No, Madam, no, I here my promise give,
I will not, for the proud Roxana, live:
A thousand Deaths, I for your sake prefer,
To Life, and th' Empire of the World, with her.
Live then fair Queen—tho from you I depart,
My Image, still shall live, within your Heart:
And, Perdicas, since you to Love pretend,
[To Perd.
Her, from Roxana's Cruelties, defend:
Keep her Life safe—I make it my last prayer,
My fair Queens safety, now is all my Care.
Assure, me, that she shall, in safety be,
And I'le forgive, what e're thou dost to me.

Stat.
In Perdicas's pow'r, that does not lie,
For if you live not, I resolve to die.
And if I am not, by Roxana, slain,
By my own hand, that Freedom, I'le obtain.

Perd.
Ah! Madam, do you thus resolve, at last?
Will you repay thus, all my kindness past?
If for your sake, have spar'd my greatest foe,
Shall my Indulgence, be rewarded so?

Stat.
Yes, Sir, this firm Resolve, which now I make,
Not all your Threatnings, shall have power to shake.
There is no other way, to separate
Us two, but by my Death, for which I wait,

Perd.
No 'tis by his—And by the Heavens, I vow,
Not all the world shall save him from it now.
Dye—dye Barbarian—with thy Blood repay,
Draws his sword to run Oront. thorow
That Peace, which thou from me hast tane away

Roxa.
Hold Perdicas—if you Orontes hurt,
I'le strike this Javelin th'row Statira's Heart,

[Roxana snatches a Javelin from one of her Guard, and presents it to Statira's Breast.
Oron.
Ah Perdicas! run—save the Queen—
From fierce Roxana's power, set her free,
And then you, safely, may give Death to me.

Stat.
Here, here, Roxana, plunge thy cruel Spear:
shews her Breast.
The child of great Darius, cannot fear.
Strike th'row this Heart—strike boldly, do not spare,
And pierce his Image, who disdains thee, there.

Perdicas casts himself before Roxana's Javelen, and Roxana places her self between him and Orontes.
Roxa.
Ingrateful as thou art, thou shalt not dye
[To Oront.
Thy Life is safe enough, whilst I am by;
For with my own, I will thy Life defend,
And though thou hatest me, shew my self thy Friend.

Oron.
Since to Statira, you'ave such malice shown,
You are to me most black, and odious grown:
Ev'n Perdicas, I love much more, than thee,
And pardon, all his cruelties, to me,
Because his care, and tenderness I'ave seen,
In snatching, from thy Murth'rous hands, my Queen,
When you, with so much wrath, and Rudeness prest,
That dreadful Javelin, 'gainst her tender Breast.

Perd.
For you fair Queen, I all my Blood, will spend,
[To Stat.
Your pretious Life, I'le with my own defend:
But I entreat you, to return with me,
T' avoid Roxana's further crueltie.

Stat.
I pardon all, what she to me did do,
To me, she was less cruel far, than you;
But one Death she had given, and Eas'd my pain,
You many Deaths, had you Orontes slain.

Perd.
Madam, your self did first Orontes slay,
When you took from me, all my Hopes away:
A Rival, in Despair, you should not blame.

Stat.
Despair should quench, and not increase Loves flame.

Perd.
We must not here dispute—Madam let's go,
I will secure you, from this Cruel Foe.

Stat.
I Sir your pris'ner am, and know it well
Pray'ers are Commands, with those who can Compel.
Orontes Live, and I will live, for you,
[To Oront.
And, if you're forc'd to dye, I will dye too.

Oron.
Live still, fair Queen, my Heart, to you I give,
I will be yours, whether I dye, or live.

Roxa.
Have you forgot, to what we did agree?
To Perd. going off.
Remember Sir, you first broke Faith, with me,
Lost your Respect, and now not only jarr,
But have denounc'd against me, open War.
Tyrant, thou would'st have slain, what I above
Mankind, the World, or Life, or Empire, love.
Assure thy self, I won't my Rival spare,
I'le seek her, in thine Arms, and Kill her there.
Perdicas, I'le doe't—'tis not thy Art, or power,
Shall thee, or her, from my Revenge secure.

Perd.
Madam, the Gods protect the Innocent.

Exeunt Perd. Stat. Cleone, with their Guards.
Roxa.
Whilst I have pow'er, declare for me they must,
Or I will fling, their Temples in the Dust,
O'rethrow their Altars, all their Flammins slay,
And take from them, their Deities away.
Tell me no more of Gods, my pow'er shall be
My greatest, and my only Deitie.
'Tis that th'whole World adores—'Tis pow'er alone,
Which must maintain me, in my Husband's Throne.
Guards,—Keep this pris'ner safe—but let him be
To her Guards.
From those base, and unworthy Chains, set free.
What Pow'er is this, which does my Heart subdue,
[The Guards bow.
That would at once oblige, and punish too?

[Exit with Guard and Blacks.
Oron.
My Life depends, yet on a slender thred,
For whilst Statira lives, I must live too,
With faint, and empty hopes, I still am fed,
And wait to see, what the just Gods will doe.
But if my fair Queen dyes, from hence I'le go,
To seek her in the blessed shades, below:
For, Loves strong bonds, so fast, our Souls have ty'd,
That Fate it self, cannot us two, divide.

[Goes in, the Scene Closes.