 | Mithridates, King of Pontus |  |
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The Field.Enter Ziphares bloody, with Souldiers.
Ziph.
Are these, are these the Masters of the World?
O my brave Friends, how have you fought to day!
You fought, as if you all had Mistresses,
Who from some Battlement beheld your Valour,
And from your Arms expected all their Fortune:
Oh, had you heard 'em clap their tender hands,
Beat their white Breasts, and rend the wond'ring Heav'ns
With their shrill cryes, you cou'd not have done more;
Your looks were Basilisks to Roman Blood,
Your very Breath was as the furious North,
And drove the Legions, like the Chaff, before you.
Nor was I idle; witness the wounds I feel,
Tho Glabrio, at distance, shun'd the force
Of my far-darted Javelin, yet it struck
A Tribune down, and did not useless fall.
What more remains, but that we haste to meet
Victorious Archelaus, plunder their Tents,
And loaded with the Laurel we have won,
March to Synope, shouting all the way,
Long live the King of Kings, great Mithridates?
Enter Archelaus, attended.
Arch.
O Prince! thou Life, thou Soul of all the Army,
To whose dear hand thrice I did owe my life,
When thrice this day my Horse was kill'd beneath me;
O Renown'd day! this one day of thy Valour
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Like Time it self thy Glory shall run on,
While mine, my fifty Iron-years of battel,
Lies smeer'd in dust, and moulder into Ashes.
Ziph.
Yes, Father, now I cou'd grow proud of Conquest,
Since it must give your Daughter to my Arms.
Methought to day, when I had given the word,
Semandra, Victory declar'd her self
E're yet a Death by any hand was given:
Ev'n now my blood more heats my youthful veins,
My Cheeks grow redder, with the expectation
Of Love's dear promis'd joys, than when I strove
In flame of fight, with all my toil upon me,
To cut my way, and win the famous Field.
Arch.
Grant me, you Gods, before the hand of Death
Comes, like Eternal Night with-her dark Wing,
To bar the comfortable light for ever
From these my aged eyes; O let me see
A Grandchild of my Princes Sacred Blood,
To call him mine, to feel him in my Arms,
To hear his innocent talk, and see him smile,
While I tell Stories of his Fathers Valour,
Which he in time must learn to imitate:
Grant me but this, you Gods, and make an end,
Soon as you please, of this old happy man.
Ziph.
I feel a gladness lightning in my breast,
The kindled joy disperses quickly through me,
And says, E're yet the setting-Sun has quench'd
His Love in his cold Mistress Bed,
Semandra shall be mine; ev'n all Semandra:
The thought is Extasie! these Arms shall hold her
Fast to my throbbing Breast; these ravish'd eyes
Gaze till they're blind, with looking on her Blushes;
These stifling Lips shall smother all her Smiles,
And follow her with such pursuit of Kisses,
That ev'n our Souls shall lose themselves in pleasure.
Arch.
First, send a Flying Messenger, with news
Of our great Victory.
Ziph.
Ziphares self
Must be the Harbinger of his own joy:
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While you behind conduct, on easie March,
The weari'd Army. Once more let me lock
My Father thus.
Arch.
My heart bodes happiness.
Ziph.
'Twere sin to doubt, since Fortune had no hand
In what our Swords by dint of Valour won:
She to the Brave was ever a curst Foe;
But I at last have bound her to my Chariot,
By Conquering Virtue to be drag'd along;
And while her broken VVheel is proudly born,
She shall be forc'd our Triumph to adorn.
Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.
The Palace-Garden.Enter Pharnaces and Andravar.
Andr.
Then there is hope, my Lord, th' unsetled King
May yet relapse, and fall to Love again?
Phar.
'Tis certain that the end will Crown our wishes.
Late, as I pry'd about Semandra's Gardens,
Mad that our Plot a-ground, so plough'd to bear,
Shou'd yield no Fruit, still thoughtful how to work him,
And watching for some accident, to fit
Our purpose, and redeem the last design,
I chanc'd to spy the fair Semandra sleeping;
But, in that posture, she appear'd so lovely,
Bold as I am, she Charm'd me into wonder:
But strait thy General came to rescue me,
VVho took the hint immediately, and went
To see the King.
Andr.
I guess the good design,
To draw him on to see our beauteous Foe.
Phar.
You have it; and 'tis more than half effected.
I saw 'em walk: Pelopidas, by his action,
I know did kindle him with wondrous praise,
But once to view the bright Semandra sleeping;
But the King stopt, as if he fear'd to go;
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Rubbing his hand upon his Face, to hide
The rising Blushes: but, behold 'em here!
Enter Mithridates, Pelopidas.
Mith.
What are her Charms to me?
Pelop.
'Tis true, they are not;
And yet, methinks, the sight might draw down Jove—
Yet, I'de not ask you, for the World, to see her;
But that I think you 're Master of your promise:
I thought your God-like frame, your strength of mind
Not to be shook, therefore I woo'd you, Sir,
In Curiosity, to see a Wonder;
But, if you doubt your self.
Mith.
I think I need not:
I think my Vertue is resolv'd; but yet,
I fear, and therefore I will go no farther.
Pelop.
'Tis well resolv'd; and yet, methinks, 'twou'd raise
Your pity, more than love, to see the tears
Force through her snowy lids their melting course,
To lodge themselves on her red murm'ring lips
That talk such mournful things; when strait, a gale
Of starting sighs carries those Pearls away,
As Dews, by Winds, are wafted from the Flowers.
Mith.
'Tis wondrous pitiful; by Heav'n, it is!
I feel her sorrow working here; it calls
Fire to my breast, and water to my eyes,
And, if I durst.
Pelop.
If you the least suspect
Your temper, if the smallest Breath of Love
But stir your heart; let me Conjure you, Sir,
Not to go on: the dazling manner will
Disturb your quiet, and confound your Reason.
Mith.
'Twill be as well, tho I believe no Power
Can change my Virtue, yet 'twill be as well
If you relate exactly what you saw.
Pelop.
Behold her then upon a Flowry Bank,
With her soft sorrows lull'd into a slumber,
The Summers heat had, to her natural blush,
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The Beauties of her Neck and naked Breasts,
Lifted by inward starts, did rise and fall
With motion that might put a Soul in Statues:
The matchless whiteness of her foulded Arms,
That seem'd t' imbrace the Body whence they grew,
Fix'd me to gaze o're all that Field of Love;
While to my ravish'd eyes officious winds,
Waving her Robes, display'd such handsom Limbs,
As Artists wou'd in Polish'd Marble give
The Wanton Goddess, when supinely laid
She Charms her Gallant God to new enjoyment.
Mith.
Something there is stirs mightily my Breast;
'Tis Pity, sure, it can be only Pity:
Who knows, but that her multiplying fears,
And cruel griefs, in time, may give her death?
'Twere most Inhumane therefore not to go,
And comfort her, with praises of Ziphares:
I'll tell her how he Conquers, how he comes
Triumphant from the Consul's overthrow,
To take the Noble Wreaths he has deserv'd,
Embraces from her Arms; Circles more rich
Than all the Crowns my fruitless Valour won.
Yet, stay; I will not speak of him: 'twere rude
To break her rest; I'll see her, when she wakes.
Pelop.
Then you dare trust your heart?
Mith.
'Tis sure I dare:
By Heav'n, my Friends, I dare: I feel such strong
Collected Manly Virtue, that I'll on.
Pelop.
Oh, sacred Sir, turn back: if, Conquer'd by
Her Beauties, you shou'd love again, I know
Pelopidas must bear the blame of all;
Therefore, my Lord.
Mith.
Away; by Heav'n, I'll go.
Pelop.
Oh, 'tis impossible, if once you lov'd
But you must certainly relapse:
Therefore your fearful Servant kneels and begs
You wou'd turn back: Alas, he's conscious now
What a gross fault his foolish tongue committed,
By tempting unawares your Reason forth.
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I'll see her; yes, it is resolv'd, I'll see her,
With all that World of Charms thou hast describ'd;
Therefore arise, and lead the way.
Pelop.
Alas,
My Lord, I fear you; but it is your pleasure,
And I'm your Slave.
Mith.
Reply not; but obey.
[Exeunt Mith. Pelop.
Phar.
I feel a pleasant expectation breeding;
His starts, his stops: by Mars, he loves her still:
Joyn then the much prevailing circumstance,
Of Time, and Place; the absence of my Brother,
To make Guilt bold; the loneness of her Mansion:
Both strong Incentives to a violent Lover.
Andr.
Then Love has blest you on the other hand,
Since, by our subtil practices, we brought
Monima to disgrace; with whom you may
Divert, till we have gain'd our full Revenge.
I have the guard of her.
Phar.
I'm glad thou hast.
Then, to compleat the ruine of Ziphares,
I hear his Mother, fearful of th' Event
Of this long War, and loving him as life,
With Pompey holds private Intelligence,
And has, to Rome, giv'n all those Castles up,
Which she had charge of, to preserve her Son.
Andr.
This, when occasion calls, I'll aggravate,
To mad your Father more. But see, the General!
Enter Pelopidas.
Pelop.
He's gone; he's ruin'd; quite transported with
The Extasie of Love: I left him kneeling
Close to her side, winding about his Heart
Such Nets of Beauty, as must hold him fast;
Therefore, when he approaches us for comfort,
Showing his griefs, and seeking shroud for guilt,
Let us in courage, to our utmost power,
What e're his Violent Love dares put in act.
33
Mith.
Torment of heart! Oh, feeble Virtue! hence,
I blow thee from the Palace, to the Cottage;
To build in Hearts of Hinds, bless their rude hands
VVith thy lean recompence of endless labour:
For me, since I have burst th' ungrateful Chain
That held me to thee like a shackled Slave,
I will enjoy what e're the Gods have given,
And surfeit on the Beauties of Semandra.
Oh, my dear Son, my best, my own Pharnaces;
By Heav'n, thou never did'st oppose my pleasure,
As does Ziphares: but I'll cast him out,
That Bosom-Wolf, who laps my dearest blood,
And lodg thee there; thou wilt not rack me thus.
Phar.
The Gods forbid. But why, Sir, will you bear it?
Pelop.
I cou'd not think you lov'd her at this rate;
Therefore I hope forgotten Virtue yielded
To bolder pleasures, and you quench'd your fires.
Mith.
Drawn by resistless Love, I put one knee
To Earth, and gently bowing down my head,
First took at distance the sweet-wafted breath;
Which blew my flames to such a raging heighth,
That streight I fell upon her Balmy Lips,
And glew'd my own so fiercely, that she wak'd:
And, starting up, soon vanish'd from my sight,
Leaving me dumb, pale, languishing, and dying,
Rent with her Charms, distracted with the rage
Of my desires, and torn with cruel Love.
Pelop.
Why stopt you there? I wou'd have follow'd her
Into her inmost Closet; pardon me,
If I prove passionate to see you thus:
Better a million of such slight-soul'd things
Were ravish'd, massacred, than Mithridates
Suffer one moments care.
Phar.
I have no patience.
By, your great Glory, 'twas not Nobly done:
I'th' midst of groans, and cryes, and gushing tears,
I wou'd have ravish'd her;—your Royal Hand,
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Who knows, but opposition mounts the joy?
Like that Athenian Tyrant, who ne're took
His Barge for pleasure, but in highest Storms;
Then wou'd he stand like Neptune on his Deck,
And laugh to see the Dolphins back the billows.
Andr.
Say but the word, I'll fetch her from the Altar
To your imbraces: never did I see
So strange an alteration; your fierce eye,
Which, like the Sun at Noon, none cou'd behold
But with a snatch of light, and then be dazled:
Now, like a cold and drouzy Winter-star,
Bears a bleak brightness. O decay of lustre!
Mith.
I am not as I was.—Ha! whence this noise?
[Shout within.
Ex. Pelop. and Andra.
Phar.
My Lord, this Passion has unman'd you quite:
Forgetful of the glorious Fields you won,
You lose your dear bought Honours in a day,
And sell your Fame to your ambitious Son.
The Coward Glabrio, whom by flying Agents
I hear, in divers Skirmishes he vanquish'd,
Has swell'd him so, and blown him to that heighth,
He rides upon the shoulders of his Army:
They heave him, as he were a God, in Air,
And dance before him, shouting in their Songs,
You are their Saturn, but the Prince their Jove,
All that their waning Faith can give Ambition;
And he too laughs, to hear the thundring Titles.
Mith.
And, for a recompence, shall I bestow
Upon this Traytor, all I love on Earth?
No, my Pharnaces, I have mark'd him dead,
If that Semandra's loss can bring his ruine:
Not but the thought I go with shows me just
To what she shall appear: the Noble wile
Kills by her seeming Infidelity.
Monima too must perish for dishonour;
But rather to make way for my new Love,
And fix the giddy People on my side.
[Shouts again.
Again these shouts?
Phar.
I guess Ziphares comes.
35
Down, strugling Nature;
Die, die, thou Ravisher of my Repose;
Be strangled in me all remorse, all thoughts
Of pity; yet I will be calmly cruel,
Nor shall he find the depth of my Revenge.
Enter Andravar.
Andr.
Your Son has Conquer'd, mightiest of Kings;
But by a way so infamously base,
I fear my doom will scarce be less than death
For the relation.
Mith.
Monstrous may it be;
For I so hate him now, I wish for Crimes
Of deepest grain, for colour to his Fate.
Andr.
His Royal Mother, the False Stratonice,
To whom you gave in Custody Inora,
The strongest, richest Fort of all the East,
E're he with Glabrio joyn'd, to Rome did yield
That wondrous mass of treasure, with her Honour.
Mith.
Curst State of Monarchs! Let the judging World
Now weigh our pleasures, with our mightier troubles,
And find us happier than the rest of men!
False Beauty, thou shalt die, thou bane of greatness;
Or, if I cannot reach thy fickle being,
I'll punish thee by ruining Ziphares.
Andr.
This have I learnt by frequent Messengers,
Who warrant with their lives, how by consent
Glabrio but skirmish'd with the Prince your Son,
And was by Stratonice brib'd before.
Mith.
Plots, Treasons, horrid black Conspiracies?
Mother and Son, Oh Parricides! combine;
But if you scape me, may I sleep my Reign out.
Enter Pelopidas.
What says Pelopidas? What of Ziphares?
Bring'st thou more matter for my Curses? Speak.
Pelop.
He comes, my Lord, and with a Port so proud,
As if he had subdu'd the spacious World,
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A glut of People, you wou'd think some God
Had conquer'd in their Cause, and they thus rank'd
That he might make his entrance on their heads:
While from the Scaffolds, Windows, tops of Houses,
Are cast such gaudy show'rs of Garlands down,
That ev'n the Croud appear like Conquerors,
And the whole City seems like one vast Meadow,
Set all with Flowers, as a clear Heav'n with Stars.
Mith.
Ungrateful Slaves! by Mars, when I return'd,
Worn with the hardship of a ten-years War,
My Army's heavy-gaited, bruis'd and hack'd,
With cutting Roman lives;
They ne're receiv'd me with a pomp like this.
Pelop.
Nay, as I heard, e're he the City enter'd,
Your Subjects lin'd the ways for many furlongs;
The very Trees bore men: and, as our God,
When from the Portal of the East he dawns,
Beholds a thousand Birds upon the boughs,
To welcom him with all their warbling throats,
And prune their feathers in his Golden Beams;
So did your Subjects, in their gaudy'st trim,
Upon the pendant branches, speak his praise.
Mothers, who cover'd all the banks beneath,
Did rob their crying Infants of the breast,
Pointing Ziphares out to make 'em smile;
And climbing Boys stood on their Father's shoulders,
Answering their shouting Sires with tender cryes,
To make the Consort up of general joy.
Mith.
What, will you bear your part too? Oh the Gods!
He is transported with the ample Theam,
And plays the Orator! Plagues rot thy Tongue,
And blasted be the Lungs that breath'd his welcom,
Perish the Bodies that went forth to meet him,
A prey for Worms, to stink in hollow ground.
O, Viper! Villain! not content to take
My Love, but Life! wilt thou unthrone me too?
Shall Mithridates live to be depos'd;
A Stale, the Image of what once he was,
The very Ghost of his departed Greatness;
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To gape, to nod, and sleep in my scorn'd face?
Awake, awake, thou sluggard Majesty,
Rouze thee to Act; tho all the Elements,
Tho Heav'n and Hell, Subjects and Sons conspire,
With Fate thy Empires fall; oppose their will:
Dare to the last, and be a Monarch still.
[Exit.
Pelop.
What think you now?
Phar.
I think, for my Revenge,
For any act that witty horrour asks,
Thou art an Instrument so black and fit,
The Furies joyn'd in Council cou'd not match thee.
But see, Ziphares comes: with what a Train
Of Priests! nay, then the God must be Adored.
The Scene being drawn, represents Ziphares's Triumph, which is a Street full of Pageants, crouded with People, who from the Windows fling down Garlands: other's dance before him, while the Priests sing, Ziphares resting under a Canopy of State.
Ziph.
Enough, my Friends, my Noble Countrymen,
I am indebted to your Bounties ever;
But let me now Conjure you, cease the noise
Of your loud thanks, lest we disturb the King:
We're near the Palace, and my boding heart
Says he interprets rudely this our Triumph
Which you, against my will, have forc'd upon me;
Therefore Ziphares begs you to retire:
By the small Victories my Arms have gain'd,
If you have any Love, as much you show,
Let me intreat you all, by that affection,
Ev'n now, upon this instant, to disband.
All.
Long live our King, and Noble Prince Ziphares.
[Exeunt shouting.
Phar.
Welcom, Ziphares, welcom to Synope;
Still, when Fate calls thee forth, may'st thou return,
Thus swell'd, thus Lord Triumphant o're the Romans.
Ziph.
Had I subdu'd the World, I shou'd detest
The Title of Triumpher, and scarce think
38
Pelop.
Had not the Monster multitude receiv'd you Sir,
With such a monstrous State, methinks,
Like Hercules, you shou'd have slain the Hydra.
Andr.
Heard you but Sir, how, with hundred mouths,
It worship'd, as you were already Crown'd:
Long live our King, the Noble Prince Ziphares?
Ziph.
What, Villains! Ha! Gods, have I flesh and bear it?
Pharnaces, off; by my just wrath they die.
[Exeunt Pel. and Andr.
Phar.
The King! remember how this Rage will sound.
Ziph.
O the curst Traytors! Brother, beware of 'em:
How e're they crouch at present to your Fortune,
For I perceive your favour warm'd the Snakes
To stir, they have no sense of gratitude:
I found 'em base, and therefore did discard 'em;
For which, the Slaves have sworn me mortal hate;
But if I live I'll crush 'em.
Phar.
You'l to the King?
Ziph.
I will. Methinks this meeting was unlucky;
My heart misgives me more, and higher beats
With this last heat, than all the toil of War:
Perhaps, they move the King; but sure not much:
Or if they do, tho our great Father frowns,
One smile, one tear of joy from my Semandra
Will wash the anger of the Gods away.
[Exit.
Phar.
Go, and the welcome that I wish attend thee.
Of all my Elder Brothers, he remains
To cross my hopes, and bar me from the Crown:
Whom yet I doubt not, by my Engins help,
To burst in sunder, and then gild my Brows.
Methinks I shou'd become the Golden-Hoop
That circles in one quarter of the Globe:
I have it just; my Scepter waving thus,
The starting Princes run to clear my way.
Enter Mithridates, Semandra, Pelopidas, Andravar, Guards.
But hold, my Father comes, with sad Semandra!
Weep on; while I go laugh my cares away
With Monima, who must or yield or die.
[Exit.
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Has not the Traytor won my Subjects hearts?
Has not his Mother basely too, betray'd me?
Has he not dar'd to Triumph without leave?
Which, when my faithful'st worthi'st Councellors
Rebuk'd him for, with mild and gentle Language,
He redned with proud anger, drew his Sword;
Then, like a monstrous Parricide, came on
Here, to my Palace, Heading the wild Croud,
So through the Bodies of my Friends to pass,
Till with his barbarous hand he reach'd my Bosom.
Sem.
'Tis false; 'tis all most horrid Perjury;
And the curs'd spotted Souls of these vile Traytors
Shall burn for this beneath: I know they hare
The Gallant Prince, and now conspire against him;
With words, made up with all the blasts of Hell
They strike your sacred Ears, bewitch your Senses,
And with those Spells that foulest Treason hatcht,
Stagger your Royal Reason. O yet hear me!
Mith.
From what I have decreed, no Charm, no Pow'r,
No Eloquence; not Mercy's self, adorn'd
In all Semandra's Beauties, in her tears,
Prostrate upon the Earth, and hanging on
My knees, nay dying with her grief, shall move me.
Sem.
I now believe you are not to be mov'd;
Therefore with my undaunted Innocence,
I stand to hear the Doom you have decreed.
Mith.
If when Ziphares, at your first appearance,
Runs to your Arms, fir'd with expected joys,
You thrust him not away, and slight him strangely,
With all the marks of the most proud disdain,
That a most faithless and ambitious Woman
Cou'd show to gain the Empire of the World;
He shall be stab'd, be murder'd by my Guards,
Before your eyes.
Sem.
O, 'tis not possible,
That you can mean the dreadful things you speak:
You speak it but to try the poor Semandra.
Mith.
Mark me most heedfully, for 'tis most true,
And sooner shall a dooming God recal
His Stygian Oath, than I renounce my Vow:
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With all the coldness of a fair Apostate,
Whose Chastity the poyson of sweet Power
Had brought to ruine, whose protested Faith
The Charms of Empire had quite turn'd to Air.
Sem.
Gods, do you hear the Tyrant?
Mith.
Do you hear me?
If to your words, which must make plain your falshood,
Your looks shou'd give the Lye, by amorous glances,
And languishings, for Lovers eyes will talk;
Or, as you speak your hate, mixt sighs arise,
Or faultring speech, or any other mark,
To show that you are forc'd to what you say;
Then, from the place where I shall stand conceal'd,
I'll give the Signal to my waiting Guards,
Who in a moment shall destroy your Lover,
When all your tears and sighs shall not recal him.
Sem.
I'll die, I'll die, ten thousands deaths I'll die,
Rather than meet him thus: what, after all
The dreadful Imprecations that I made him,
And swore upon my Fathers Sword, a Faith,
A spotless Love, for ever to endure;
Shall I abjure my Oaths, and to his face
Protest a falshood, and belye my heart?
Miih.
Take your own course; I have sworn.
Sem.
O Tyranny!
What, shall I meet him after all his hardships,
After the heats and colds, and smarting wounds,
VVhich for my sake he patiently endur'd,
Still chearing up himself, that after all
The blood he lost, he shou'd enjoy Semandra,
His gentle Mistress one day shou'd reward him,
For the long mischiefs of a cruel VVar?
Mith.
I have not leisure now to hear complaints:
Either resolve t' obey, and speedily,
Or you and I must never see him more.
Sem.
Stay, Royal Sir, come back: ne're see him more!
And if I die, rather than see him thus,
VVill you not save his life?
Mith.
Your death; Semandra!
41
Sem.
Alas, alas! I fear, if I but look
As if I knew him not, or had forgot him,
So nice and tender is his love,
So soft his disposition, 'twill be fatal.
Mith.
Then, you resolve his death?
Sem.
It cannot be.
No, I will see him, tho I must be cruel;
But bate a little of your Imposition:
An unkind word will kill the poor Ziphares,
As sure as all the hate which you injoyn me.
Enter Ismenes.
Isme.
The Prince Ziphares begs admittance of
Your Majesty.
Mith.
You must retire, Semandra.
Sem.
O Torment! O the Racks of Love distrest
Like mine! of Passion at a loss like mine!
Help me, you Gods, or I shall faint with bearing.
[Exit.
Mith.
Call in the Prince.—What, Nature yet again?
I charge thee trouble my repose no more.
Enter Ziphares.
Ziph.
'Tis well, you Powers that pry into our hearts,
Well have I lost my dearest blood in battel,
Since once again I see my Royal Father.
Mith.
Ziphares, rise; I hear you have fought well,
Too well perhaps for Mithridates peace:
You Triumph'd too, I hear.
Ziph.
Alas, my Lord,
I fear Pelopidas and Andravar
Have been too busie with your Ear.
By my best hopes, by your most Sacred Life,
I wou'd not Triumph till your Orders came;
At least, they told me, that they came from you:
If they were false,—
Mith.
They were your Friends who brought
Those Orders; therefore you are not in fault:
42
Ziph.
Of Stratonice! Ah, what has she done?
Ah, Sir, what Villain has traduc'd my Mother?
Give me to know—
Mith.
Perhaps you 're ignorant:
Wou'd I had been so too; but to the purpose.
I promis'd, when the Consul was o'recome,
To give Semandra to you:—Seem not sad,
You love your Father well; but, Prince, I know
Your Passion for Semandra is the highest:
I'll send her to you, if you please retain her.
[Exit.
Ziph.
Is this then thy reward, unnecessary Virtue?
Why do we wear thee thus, to our undoing?
O, inauspicious Stars! thy Father hates thee,
Because thou art too good! went it not so?
I fought too well! His eye disdain'd me too,
And held my High Desert at hateful distance:
But, let it be, there's satisfaction still
In Innocence: and conscious Glory tells me,
My Griefs shall fly, like Clouds, before Semandra.
Enter Semandra.
But see, the Sun that drives 'em! O my Star!
Thou Day, that gild'st my little World of comfort,
Give me thy warmth; let me, upon thy Bosom,
Breath all my Victories. Alas, the King,
My cruel Father,—Ha! what now, Semandra?
Not fly into my arms! O all you Pow'rs
That Nurs'd our tender Loves, she turns away!
Hast thou too caught the coldness of my Father?
Clear me, you Gods, and fix my Understanding
To this one view, lest I mistake all measure,
And run to madness. What, not look upon me?
By Heav'n, if thus, if thus I shou'd behold thee,
Tho in a Dream, 'twou'd make me wish to sleep for ever.
O my dear Life! thou shalt not hide thy kindness;
But to dissemble thus a moment longer,
Wou'd quite destroy the Passionate Ziphares.
I'll force thy hand, thus, to my trembling lips.
43
The kiss you ravish, Prince, is dangerous;
And let me now Conjure you, by your Love,
If you can love after what I injoyn you,
Upon your life, offer the like no more.
O Man me, Reason, with thy utmost force;
Or Passion, with the dreadful starts it makes,
Will soon Divorce my Soul from this weak Body.
What hast thou said? and, Ah! what have I heard?
Fair cruel faithless, for the blood I lost,
Dost thou thus meet me? Raise thy eyes from Earth,
And tell me, Have I, Ah, have I deserv'd
This usage from my dear ador'd Semandra?
Sem.
You deserve all things; but you must not ask
My Love, unless you wish me most unhappy.
Ziph.
O, you good Gods! is it then come to this?
Shall I, shall I—but speak it once again,
Unhappy! did'st thou, cou'dst thou say unhappy?
Sem.
I'de have you strive, my Lord, to love me less.
Ziph.
If you wou'd have it so, be witness, Heav'n,
If for your quiet you injoyn me this,
I'll strive; but (oh!) 'tis most impossible:
Ah, may I not presume to ask, if this
The reason be why I shou'd love you less,
That the too happy King may love you more?—
—Your silence does confirm Ziphares lost:
And all that I cou'd fear is come upon me.
Ah, Barbarous King! I'll bear thy Bonds no longer;
But cast off Duty, as thou hast all Love,
Thou bloody Author of this wretched Being.
Tyrant—
Sem.
Take heed, Ziphares, how you wrong your Father:
I've heard you give another Character,
So diff'rent from this last, of Mithridates,
Methinks you scarce appear the same Ziphares
Whom once I knew.
Ziph.
It is most sure I do not;
But, to convince me more, quite to compleat
The cruel sum of all my desp'rate woes,
And sink me ever; what, Madam, have you heard
Me say? or, rather, what is't you wou'd say
44
Sem.
Have I not heard you speak the tender'st things,
How, but for some few faults, so small, that scarce
The Eye of Envy or of Hate cou'd find 'em,
He wou'd be perfect as the Gods themselves;
A King so awful, that the Romans fear'd him,
A King so merciful, Barbarians lov'd him?
A King—
Ziph.
No more; I am confirm'd: she's lost:
The King! she's gone; the Beauty of the Earth,
All that in Woman cou'd be Virtue call'd
Is lost.
Corrupted are her Noble Faculties,
The temper of her Soul is quite infected:
Inconstancy, the Plague that first or last
Taints the whole Sex, the catching Court-disease,
Has spotted all her white, her Virgin Beauties.
Sem.
You think me false—Ah, 'tis but just you shou'd!
But, Prince, I swear, I am not what you think me;
Yet never can be yours.
Ziph.
O confusion!
Never! O horror? never can be yours!
Thou tear'st my heart! call back those dreadful words;
Tho thou art going, yet thou art not gone:
Ah, e're it be too late, behold me gasping.
Come to my Arms; Oh, leave me not for ever:
Fall on my Bosom, I'll forget thy weakness;
Try to deceive my self with specious Reasons,
Never upbraid thee that thou once wert false,
But with my tears wash all thy stains away.
Sem.
Since tears (O help me Heav'n!) are vain, take, take my Counsel,
Chear your sad heart, and grieve, Oh grieve no more!
Ziph.
Then thou art lost? resolv'd upon my ruine?
Sem.
Your life's too precious: I resolve against it!
Not for ten thousand Worlds—What was I saying?
[Aside.
What shall I say? Live, live, thou lost Ziphares.
Ziph.
No, thou perfidious Maid, thou wretched Beauty,
Ziphares loves thee still; so well he loves thee,
That he will die, to rid thee of a torment.
Where are thy Vows? O think upon thy Father,
45
And break his aged heart: or, e're he dies,
Think, if his kindled rage shou'd execute
What he has sworn, to hack thy beauteous Limbs,
Tear thy false flesh into a thousand pieces.
Sem.
If that were all my fear!—
Ziph.
What, hardned! Oh my Stars!
So quickly perfect in the cursed Trade?
I shall go mad with the Imagination.
O heart! tho Heav'n had op'd the pregnant Clouds,
And teem'd, with all the never-erring Gods,
To swear on Earth Semandra had been false,
Semandra had been false to her Ziphares,
I wou'd not have believ'd.
Sem.
(Aside.)
I cannot hear this grief, nor must I cure it.
Farewel—O Prince—Instruct me, Heav'n to save him.
Ziph.
Stay thee; there's something, e're we part for ever,
That I wou'd speak: if I cou'd make it way.
Sem.
Speak then, and speak the mournful'st things you can,
To break both hearts.
Ziph.
Thou hast undone me; like a Silver-Frost,
Thou com'st upon the Flower of all my Youth,
To nip the tender Bud, and blast my Glory:
Yet I will live, Semandra, I will live,
To save thee from thy Father's cruel rage;
For, wicked as thou art, with grief, I feel
My Soul looks after thee, and seeks thy safety.
Sem.
(Aside.)
I shall not hold; I feel the climbing grief:
My eyes grow full, and I shall give him Death.
Ziph.
Farewel. Thus, kneeling at thy feet, I pour
These parting tears; and sure, the happy King,
In pity will allow this dying Kiss,
Which my cold lips print on thy faithless hand.
Oh, all my Vows, for ever here I leave you;
And, since we never, never must behold
Each other more, I'll breath 'em once again:
Farewel, Semandra. O, thou'lt never find,
In all thy search of Love, a heart like mine.
Once more, Farewel for ever, false Semandra.
46
Sound nothing but Semandra? Oh, Semandra!
Exit.
Enter Mithridates, with Priests.
Sem.
The cruel Task is done; and I can hold
No longer!—
Come back Semandra, Empire, Empire calls thee,
Op'n thy eyes to meet thy coming glory!
O barb'rous Prince, may I not die in quiet?
Mith.
Talk not of dying,
See this Holy Man—
Sem.
Holy, Profane,
All things are now alike to my distraction.
Mith.
He instantly shall joyn your hand with mine.
Sem.
What means the Tyrant?
Mith.
You are now our Queen.
Sem.
First let me seek a Dragon in his Den;
Imbrace an Aspic, curl with Basilisks,
E're I give up this Body, this poor Beauty
To any but my Lord, the wrong'd Ziphares.
Mith.
I guess you wou'd not, by your free consent;
But I shall force, if you refuse to yield:
This moment I will take you in my Chariot,
Streight to the Temple, and in publick Wed you;
Tho you refuse to joyn in Ceremony,
Instead of sacred words venting loud Curses,
'T will not avail; for when the Mystery's done,
I'll bear you back, and as my Queen enjoy you.
Sem.
I will be drag'd; die stifled, with my grief.
Mith.
You have the Will, but not the Power to die.
Sem.
None! is there none? no pitying God awake?
And are your Priests Confederate in my ruine?
They sure will tell you of your Tyranny,
And fear too much the anger of the Heav'ns,
To force a helpless Virgin: they will speak
Your Crimes abroad; will you not, Holy Men?
Mith.
Let me but hear the Holiest of 'em cross me,
By Heav'n, he shall go Sacrifice beneath:
Therefore away, Priest, forward to the Temple.
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Help, help, you Gods.
Mith.
All thought of help is vain.
Give me your beauteous hand, and willingly,
Or here are arms to bear you.
Sem.
Let 'em be;
Call all your Armies hither to your aid,
I will not stir, nor give this trembling hand
To gain an Empire: thus, to th' Earth, I'll grow
One piece. O, root me here, some pitying God,
And let me lose my being, to escape him.
Mith.
Andravar, raise her gently from the ground:
[They take her in their arms.
Take help, and bring her softly to my Chariot.
Sem.
Stay, Mithridates; hear me but one word;
One moments stay: ev'n Malefactors are
Allow'd to speak before their Execution;
And shall not I? I, who am Innocent?
'Tis not to thee, but to the Gods, I bow:
Behold;—but see, from you, from you they take me:
O save me thus by cruel men betray'd;
Revenge your selves, and right a Ravish'd Maid.
| Mithridates, King of Pontus | |