 | Zenobia |  |
SCENE LAST.
Enter Rhadamistus.Rhad.
Ah! Tiridates—
Tir.
Come, my lord, O! come:
Behold Zenobia here, thy long-sought wife,
I thus restore her to thee.
Rhad.
[to Zen.]
O! forgive,
Forgive your Rhadamistus.
Zen.
What offence
Awaits my pardon?
Rhad.
Heavens!—my jealous rage.
Zen.
Your jealous rage was kindled in your breast
From love's excess.—The cause I ever cherish,
Th' effect I have forgotten.
[embrace.
Tir.
Heavenly goodness!
72
[to Tir.]
To me, O! prince, the Gods restore a sister,
To whom I owe my life, and fain would shew
The gratitude she merits.—Well I know
She loves thee, Tiridates: let that hand,
Devoted once for mine, be given at least
At my request—bestow it on Arsinöe.
Tir.
Receive it, princess— [gives his hand.]
What thou bid'st, Zenobia,
To me is ever sacred.
Ægl.
Happy hour!
Rhad.
O! faithful spouse!
Zen.
O! generous Tiridates!
Chorus.
'Tis false that Love, with tyrant sway
Bids every will his rule obey,
And o'er our freedom reigns.
But lovers thus, while each pursues
His wayward course, would faults excuse
Which Fate in them ordains.
| Zenobia | |