University of Virginia Library

SCENE, Flat-Palace.
Enter Thermusa and Eudora.
Ther.
The heartless King's Inexorable grown,
Nor will he alter his Decree: I saw
The dying Ceremonies fixt; the Axe,
The Scaffold, the Procession, Guards, and all
The Curst Attendants of the Train of Death:
Oh my Eudora! Now Night thickens on us;
All its pitchy Clouds, gather apace,
Inveloping my sight, that I scarce see
The fatal Path, I tread, yet I must on,
And whilst Lysander Acts his Part, do ours.

Eudor.
I saw him with your Guards, march toward the Market-Place,
The Season suits with our Designs.

Ther.
Let's call the deadly Sisters to our Aid
Hell's rankest Monsters, Envy, and Hate
Be Death itself amongst our Train; Nay, Love,
The worst when anger'd, of the black Retinue,
And then advise who first must feel our rage.

Eudor.
Mercy and Pity banish from your Eyes.

Ther.
Alas! They're gone for want of room, my Breast
Is full of every Manly Vertue now,
And I can strike, where, when, or whom the Fates
Or my own Will, the guide of fate enjoyns.

Eudor.
Then, Madam, 'tis the King must fall, and next
The Princess, by Memnon him, and her by me.

Enter Memnon.
Ther.
Oh thou my best, my Bosom Councellor!
I hold thee near my Heart—And you my Lord
Must share it too; 'tis time the Stroke was made;
Why should we keep our Happiness aloof,
Stand shivering near the brink of flow'ring Joys,
When we may plunge into the Depths at once;
My Sword, my Heart, all that is Memnon's, Madam,
Dispose, and order as you please, I'll fly to obey.

Ther.
This binds me to thy Interest, this alone,
The high'st Token of thy Love, engages more
Than all the formal Oaths, the Tears, the Sighs,
Which Whining poor Romantick Lovers make.

Mem.
You add New Courage to my hands, my hopes
Thus wing'd, can mount me above the reach of fears,
Danger, or Death, or any faint Remorse,
Not an Avenging Angel shou'd do more,
To serve Heaven's Pleasure, than I'll act for you,
The Goddess of my Life, and Heav'n alone to me.

Eudor.
'Tis then this hour, my Lord, may crown you both,
'Tis time to act; occasion hates delay,
Stars may tell Tales, and our Designs betray.

Mem.
Think on the Method, Madam, and 'tis done.

Ther.
That we'll consult within, give me your hand;
Thus shall we shoot the mighty Gulf of Fate,
Escape the Shelves, and weather all the Storms,
The Oceon of our Ends so dangerous made,
In these secure, as on the Continent we stand,
And may behold the battling Billows war;
Their angry Waves in swelling pride arise,
As if our safety they'd a mind to attack,—
Dash at our feet, and break their little spight.

[Exeunt.
Enter King with the Princess at his Knees.
Alien.
Oh my dread Lord! cou'd you but see my heart,
As you might hear its Cries, the mangled Piece
Bleeding, and torn, twou'd fright, if not affect
Your eyes, to some compassion—Oh! relen—

King,
Hold thy hands, trouble me no more,
By all the Gods, I will not hear thee—What?
In my own Court, whence I'd Proscrib'd the Wretch
On Penalty of Life, not only to
Return, but with a Villain's Insolence
T'attempt to Fight, to Murder my best Friend;
Nay, more a Royal Head: By Heav'ns i'll not
Bear this; the Dignity of Monarchs, and the Rules,
The Int'rest of State, will ne'r admit it.
Leave me, I say—

Alien.
O Sir, I cannot:—
About your Knees i'll curle these Armes, my Tears
Shall wash their roots, and I will grow—
For ever here, you shall not stir, or move—
Without their burthen. Oh be patient—
Think what you'r doing, whilst your anger dooms
The best, the bravest of Mankind to Death;
Think of his Services, his Lawrels, Sir,
His Courage, Fortune, Youth, and Vertues prise:
And can you yet be cruel? O no! I see
The Parent in your eyes; Love smiles beneath your Frown:
Send, and recal the fatal Orders.

King,
Again—A way—I am resolved—

Alin.
Oh let it be to think—
That if you thus persist, What will become—
Of your unhappy Daughter? You've oft said,
Nay, swore you loved her, Sir: And can you see
Her plunged in so much sorrow, welt'ring in pains
Worse then the flames of Sulpher can inflict?
Oh Gods! my Father can't be such a Rock.

King,
Unhand me, I grow unweildy with thy weight;
And shall with fury throw thee hence; can'st thou
Take part with any Enemy of mine?
By Heav'ns you'd make a Woman of me,
Bring down my Purposes t'obey your Will,
My Interest, turn and vere, as you shall sigh:
Nay, all my Reason in your Tears immerge;
By all my Pow'r you shall not; I'll by Phraates still,
Lord of myself, and your pitie shall ne'r
Stagger my mind, my soul's above its cry,
'Tis Justice moves me, and the Slave shall die.

[Exit the King, leaves Alind. on the ground.
Alind.
Oh, help me Gods!
I cry, yet 'tis in vain, your ears, your eyes
Are deaf, and blind, to poor Alinda's prayers:
Oh barbarous Father, cruel King; curst Stars,
That influence thus my Fate.—
O passion! tame thy follies, bate thy tears,
Why are these needless Off'rings made?
To woes like thine, thy Life can only be
Their proper Sacrifice — then die Alinda, die—
[Rises.
[The Drums beat a dead March; and Trumpets sound without.]
Oh Gods! what is't I hear? Death's dismal sound;
The fatal March that leads my Artaban away,
To take his last farewel of Earth, and me:
Oh! Horror and Distraction to my ears;
My Artaban, my Artaban, my Lord
[Raving.
O mount not yet,—
That fiery Chariot, e're you seat me there,
Placed by your side, we'll travel o're yon Roads,
Those azure Mountains touch, bate with the Stars,
Contemn the despicable World beneath,
And in the silver beams of chaste Latona's night,
We'll find a bed to crown our Nuptial-joys;
But oh! where am I?—
My Senses start; This Cordial-drop which my long jealous fears
Prepar'd for hopeless Love, this healing Balm
Shall be my sovereign Cure. T'out-live my Artaban,
Is more then all my Woman's strength can bear:
I must make haste, I dare no longer stay;
Love calls, and the great Summons I obey.

[Exit.
Town, a Scaffold behind the Flat-Palace. The Scene opens, and discovers Artaban led away by a Procession of Guards, bound to a Scaffold, as he is going,—
Art.
And must I still be bound, cruel Phraates?
Amidst thy Guards, do'st thou yet fear my Arms,
These naked Arms shou'd pull thee from thy Throne?
No.—Sit thee there, I envy not thy Place,
Nor wou'd I choose to Live, alas! in Death
What is it makes Men tremble so? to me
'Tis welcome as the Harbour to the Seamen,
When Beat and ev'n drove a Wreck to the Shore;
I see no Horror in it, but a calm Recess
From the loud Clamorous Billows which disturb
The flow's and ebbs of Life, sure 'tis the Form,
The Manner makes them shake; to me 'tis nothing,
I've seen it in as diffrent Shapes, as e're
The Eye of Man beheld, nay, this the worst
I fearl'sly can view, with the premis'd
Formalities, the Mockeries, the Pomp,
The pageant Infamy of my Fate,
And thus to fall is not my Grief; oh Gods!
You bear me Witness that I speak a truth;
Lead on!—
This is the Pedestal by which I mount
[As he ascends the Scaffold.
To yond'r Throne of Brightness, this the Car
In which as Conquer'rs, to Triumph ride—
I go to meet a Palace in the Stars—
I'm ready to obey your Warrant, Sir.

[To the Captain.
Capt.
What sounds are these?

[The Trumpets sound as from without; enter Lysander and mounts the Stage; the People shout a Pardon.
Art.
Who is't I see, Lysander?
What's the Message?

Lys.
'Tis from the Queen, with which she bids you clear
Your passage to Alinda's arms.—

Art.
Ha! Alinda, saidst thou?
Yes, I will live to see her—

Capt.
Hold your Orders, Sir.

[The Capt. opposes him; Art. fights clears the Stage, and drives the Guards before him.
Art.
I bear them in my hand—

The Scene changes, the King's Apartment.
Enter the King, solus.
King,
Oh Heavens! what mean these Ghostly Fear
Why do I stiffen, as if my Destiny
Was drawing on!—I beg for ease, and yet
Your loads oppress; nay, tho I strive to shake
You hence, your Darts still goad me;
My pains increase; But where's the hidden Wound?
Oh! that's within, a throbbing conscious Guilt
That spight of all Resolves upbraids me, with
A Life ill-spent, discovers to my veiw,
The History of past, and present Crimes;
Tells me of Death, of large Accounts to come,
And Punishments unknown: What makes you thus
Disturb me? Why at present, when i'm well?
I have not leisure to contemplate now;
My veins are full of youth, my hands are vigorous,
The sounding voice of War delights my ears,
Bea'ties bright Charms, yet appetites my eyes,
Avaunt, and when the reverend Marks of Age
My Winter'd Head shall snow, the Crutch support
My falling steps, I call you to my thoughts,
Sum up my Farwel-Exit to the World,
And sink into a Grave of Peace: Oh Gods!
Are you still here? Sure there's something else
Than barely Apprehension's force in this:
My Soul, by its eternal Beams, sees more,
Than to the Elements of Sense she speaks at large,
Pointing the Effects, but never marks the Cause.
If I must die, Oh all the Powers above!
Pronounce my Doom, 'twill be some ease to know
The utmost Malice of my boding Stars.

Enter Thermusa as the King speaks.
Ther.
Why is my Lord disturbed?—

King.
I'm feeling for the cause,
As Men at Midnight when they've lost their way.

Ther.
'Tis strange you shou'd not know it, Sir, and yet
Let Rebel Fancy so usurp your sence.

King.
'Tis true, I don't
Only a mist of things sits hovering here,
Sad melancholy Thoughts, faint Chymera's,
Such as disturb our Careful Nights, and creep
In Slumbers to our Brains, flashes of Light,
Which soon in smoaky Shades evaporate,
And nothing leave but sulphurous shine behind.

Ther.
'Tis much beneath you, Sir, to give them head.

King.
Thou dost not know, Thermusa, what a weight
A tainted Conscience bears; thou'rt Innocent,
Thy Hand unspotted; Nay, thy Heart is free,
Mine both are deeply plunged in Murtherous Gore.

Ther.
Granting they have been so; Whence do they now
So terrible appear?—

King.
There I'm to seek—
But yet as Clouds before a Showers approach,
Ruffle, and Croud thick in a Grove of dark,
These do so too, which makes my trembling Heart
Presage impending dangers near my Head.

Ther.
Your vanquish'd Spirits like a Coward rout,
Fly, e're they know for what, till tired they'll stand
And miss the cause, they rally then again.

King.
Oh Empire! had I felt thy weight before,
Ambition to my Arms the burthen bore;
Not all thy glittering Robes, Scepter, or Fame,
Thy boasted Grandeur, and Eternal Name,
Shou'd e're my Soul in such a Scarlet dy'd,
To glut the hunger of thy tow'ring Pride.
Oh! What can wash it white? Rivers and Seas,
Are all too shallow for such Blots as these.
The Watry Element hath not a Flood,
To cleanse the Stain of Paricidial Blood.
[Enter Memnon behind and stabs him, he falls.
Oh, I faint—
Upon thy Bosom let me lean a while;
Oh my profetick fears!
Must all my Glories hence their period date?
Are there no bars to stop prevailing fate?
Then down vast Pile, sink to thy funeral Dust,
Your Ruin speaks, th'Almighty Gods are Just.

[Dies.
Mem.
My ready Hands have your Commands perform'd,
And thus I run to clasp my bliss—

Ther.
Hold off—

Mem.
How, Madam! Have not my Actions purchas'd yet
Your favours?

Ther.
They have, and I'll reward them,
[Falls on the Dead Body, as the Guards enter.
Guards, seize the Traytor.
Oh my dear Murther'd Lord—

Mem.
Am I betray'd? Then Love I blow thee hence;
Spirit of Hate drawn from the Lees of Nature,
Assist me now, whilst thus I act Revenge—

[Stabs the Queen, Guards seize him.
Ther.
Curst Villain!
But thus thou shalt not brag thy Treachery,
Bear him away, and let the Murderer taste
The subtil'st Pains e're tortur'd Wretch yet felt,
Worse than the Damn'd partake, or Devils invent.

Mem.
They're Merciful to thee, nor shall I find,
In Hell a Fury worse than Womankind.

[Carry'd off by the Guards.
Enter Artaban, Lysander and Guards.
Art.
What is the meaning of this Scene of Horrour.

Queen.
Oh Artaban! E're to the Shades of everlasting Night
My Soul its Journey makes. Hear me,
I must be short my Summons calls me hence;
Love was the cause of this, and Love to thee,
Thou best, thou most deserving of Mankind;
For thee, Great Phraates fell by my Command;
For thee, I met my Fate by Memnon's hand;
Alinda was the next that must have fell;
Forgive me, and my Death will prove a Blessing.

[Dies.
Art.
Alinda! Was she meant a Sacrifice?
What barbarous hand wou'd crop so sweet a Flower?
But Oh, her very Name has chill'd my Blood:
Lysander, my kind dearest best of Friends,
If thou woud'st have me Live, Conduct me to her.

Enter Emillia.
Emill.
Oh, Sir, this Scene of horrour you behold,
Comes short of what must follow your poor Alinda.

Art.
Ha! my heart bodes horrour.

Em.
Deny'd your Life by her remorseless Father,
In wild Despair she took a fatal Draught,
That will with racking Torments end her Life.

Art.
Oh Gods! my fears prove true.

Enter Alinda led by two Women.
Alin.
I burn, I burn, I'm all one Funeral Pile;
A flaming Bolt shoots thro' my hissing Veins;
Not as young Phaeton's Wheels that drove the
Sun and set the World on Fire.

Art.
Why was I born
To see this Day! What will the Gods do with me.

Alin.
Oh for a Rock of Ice, a Bed of Snow
To lull my pains, and hush my sleeping Feaver:
Here, take me quick, throw me into the Sea,
Pour Oceans o're me, Plunge me, Sink me, Drown me,
If all the Waters of the Deep can quench
My blazing Mines of Fire.

Art.
No pittying God!
No aiding Power to drop these lovely Ruines.

Alin.
Stand off, and let me go, I'll mount the Pole,
Drive round the Northern Wain, and freeze to a Star.
Oh 'tis a Glorious Chariot, ha, ha, ha.
Sherumna, Phraates, Artaban, look there,
Yonders my Love, Oh 'tis a fine old Gentleman.
See how the Grizly Frost, and Reverend Isicles
Hang on his hoary Beard a front of Snow,
Soft as the Down of Doves, and Cool as Charity.

Art.
Answer my aking Heart, speak Life my Fairest.

Alin.
Nay, I have choice of Lovers, if that old dull
Winter Fool don't like me, he has a Rival
Will be more kind, kind Death: Yes, he'll be
Kind indeed; no angry Kings will hinder me
From his Embracing Arms; he has a Nuptial-Bed
Prepar'd for poor Alinda.

Art.
Sweetest Innocence
Yet speak to thy mourning Artaban.

Alin.
Ha, my dear Artaban, and art thou come,
To hand thy poor Alinda to her Grave!
'Tis kind, 'tis wondrous kind; but how more kindly
Had our Stars smil'd, might I have Liv'd, my
Artaban! What a long thousand thousand Years of Love
Which those dear Arms had given me, have I lost!
But I am not so poor; what Earth has robb'd me off,
The Gods will give me back: There we shall meet
No Rival Queens, nor Tyrant Fathers part us,
There I shall mount to everlasting Joys,
To Love Heaven and Artaban.

[Dies.
Art.
She's Dead, she's Dead, that Soveraign of my Soul
Has left the World and me; and dares this Traytor,
This Rebel heart out-live the fatal Blow?
No; Love's fair Martyr, thou hast reacht Heaven before me;
But thus I'll post to follow thee.
[Falls on his Sword.
The Eternal Gordian's ty'd; so now no Tyrant's Sword
Shall cut these Bonds of Love: Ah my Alinda,
I'll find the out in the blest Walk above:
In that last Path my Love can never stray,
Thy own bright Beams, fair Saint, shall light thy way.

Cast. Sen.
Farewel, young Hero: Was ever Faithful Pair like this?
When these
Last Wounds the Seals of Truth and Love they give,
How have they Dy'd, to shew us how to Live.