University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Enter Artaban behind, with his sword drawn and bloody.
Arb.
[to himself.]
O hard command! O fatal separation!
O cruel moment that must thus divide me
From her for whom I breathe, while still I am left
To drag this wretched life.

Artab.
[coming forward.]
My son—Arbaces.

Arb.
My lord!

Artab.
Give me thy sword.

Arb.
'Tis here, my lord.

Artab.
There—take thou mine: fly; hide from every eye
That crimson steel.

Arb.
O Gods! what hapless breast
Pour'd forth this blood?

Artab.
Enquire not now, be gone;
All shall be soon reveal'd.

Arb.
O sir! your looks,
All pale and wild, have fill'd me with affright:
I freeze with horror whilst I hear your lips
Give painful utterance to your words—O speak!
Tell me, what can this mean?

Artab.
Thou art reveng'd;
Xerxes is dead, and by this hand.

Arb.
What say'st thou!—
What do I hear?—What is it thou hast done?

Artab.
My dearest son, thy injuries were mine—
For thee I am guilty.

Arb.
Ha! for me you are guilty!
There wanted only this to increase my woes.
And what are now your hopes?

Artab.
My mind revolves
A great design; thou may'st perhaps assume
The reins of sovereignty—depart—my purpose
Demands that I remain.

Arb.
My soul's distracted
In this dread interval!

Artab.
Still dost thou linger?

Arb.
O Heaven!

Artab.
Depart—no more—leave me in peace.

Arb.

[Exit.