 | Artaxerxes |  |
SCENE VI.
An apartment belonging to Mandane.Mandane
alone.
Whether too frequent sorrow dulls the sense
Or that our souls partake some inward light
That glances at futurity, I know not:
I cannot mourn Arbaces as I ought:
Yet surely still he lives, for were he dead,
The tidings must have reach'd me; fame is ever
Industrious to disperse the news of woe.
| Artaxerxes | |