University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Mithridates
incompass'd with the Ghosts of his Sons, who set Daggers to his Breast, and vanish.
What Hoa! Pelopidas! why, Andravar!
Haste to my help.

Enter Pelopidas, Andravar.
Pelop.
What wou'd your Majesty?

Mith.
I wou'd, what I must ne're expect on Earth,
The Peace I had. Come nearer. Oh, my Friends!
If Fate did e're foreshow a Doom in sleep,
Mine is at hand. Last night, you well remember,
I bore Semandra from the Thund'ring Gods,
Who shook the deep Foudations of the Temple,
With the reports of Wrath Divine; yet I,
This desperate wretch, through streets of fire, did bear her
Back, in a Swoon, to my most inward Closet:
But there you left me; left me to the rage
Of monstrous Love, which, in the midst of faintings,
With Transports yet unheard-of, forc'd a Joy
Whose momentary pleasures will heap on me
Whole Worlds of Furies, Hells of endless horrour.

Pelop.
But, Sir, the Dream; that may divert your cares.

Mith.
Divert 'em! rather let me gather all my courage
To Bulwark in my Soul. O plant me round
With your kind Bodies; blunt, if possible,
Heav'ns whetted vengeance, while I tell the Vision.
After the dreadful Extasie was over,
The Ravish'd Maid, half-dead with shrieking pray'rs,
Burst, at the last, from my relenting Arms,
Ran to my Sword, of which when I disarm'd her,
She fled the Room, with cries like one distracted.
Prest with Remorse, I rested on my Couch,
And slept; but oh, a Dream so full of terrour,
The pale, the trembling midnight Ravisher
Ne're saw, when cold Lucretia's Mourning-Shadow
His Curtains drew, and lash'd him in the eyes
With her bright Tresses, dabbled in her blood.

Pelop.
I have heard of Dreams that have prov'd Ominous;
But I cou'd never fix my Faith on Fancies.

Mith.
Methought, by Heav'nly Order I was doom'd
To seek my Fate alive in th' other World:
Streight, like a Feather, I was borne by Winds,
To a steep Promontory's top, from whence
I saw the very Mouth of Op'ning Hell;
Shooting so fast through the void Caves of night,
I had not time to ponder of my passage.
I shot the Lake of Oaths, where Fleeting Ghosts,
Whose Bodies were unbury'd, beg'd for waftage:
Then was I thrown down the Infernal Courts,
Infinite fathom, till I soar'd again
To the bright Heav'nly Plains, the happy Fields.

Andr.
I wonder, that the brittle thred of thought
Shou'd hold in such a maze!

Mith.
Oh, now it comes.
After that Heav'nly Sounds had Charm'd my Ears,
Methought I saw the Spirits of my Sons,
Slain by my jealousie of their Ambition,
Who shriek'd, He's come! our cruel Father's come!
Arm, arm, they cry'd, through all th' enamell'd Grove:
Streight had their cries alarm'd the wounded Host
Of all those Romans, massacred in Asia:
I heard the empty clank of their thin Arms,
And tender voices cry'd, Lead, Pompey, lead.
Streight they came on, with Chariots, Horse and Foot.
When I had leisure to discern their Chief,
Methought that Pompey was my Son Ziphares;
Who cast his dreadful Pile, and pierc'd my heart:
Then such a din of Death, Swords, Spears and Javelins,
Clatter'd about me, that I wak'd with terrour,
And found my self extended on the Floor.

Enter Pharnaces.
Phar.
Arm, arm, Great Mithridates, the big War
Comes with vast leaps, bounding o're all the East,
Which crouches to the Torrent: Pompey comes;
Pompey the Great, saluted Emperour,
And, for some years, destin'd to govern all
Th' Italian Armies, with such full Commission,
As yet was never granted to a Roman.
Pompey, so young, so soft, in shining Courts,
That all the Roman Ladies languish for him:
Pompey, so fierce in Camps, so brave in Fields,
The very Boys, like Cupids, drest in Arms,
Clap their young harness'd thighs, and strut to Battel:
Pompey, Rome's Darling, and Fame's Eldest Son,
Proclaims with Mithridates mortal War.

Mith.
Were all well here, what force, what Roman Arms,
What General, marching at the Head of Millions,
Cou'd daunt the bold, the forward Mithridates?
But here, Pharnaces, in my guilty Bosom,
The fatal Foe does undermine my quiet;
Black Legions, are my thoughts; not Pompey, but
Ziphares comes, with all his wrongs, for Arms,
Like the Lieutenant of the Gods, against me:
Semandra too, like bleeding Victory,
Stands on his side, and cries out, Kill, kill, kill
That cursed Parricide, that Ravisher.
Oh Heav'n, sustain me, or I shall go mad.
My ugly guilt lies in my conscious face,
And I am vanquish'd, slain with Bosom-war.

Phar.
'Tis much beneath your Majesty, to alarm
Your self with fears.

Mith.
Pharnaces, thou'rt ignorant!
I tell thee, Boy, remorse and upstart fear
Oppresses me, in spight of all my knowledge:
Tho none of those that boast Philosophy
Has made a deeper search in Nature's Womb
Than I; (the mid-night Moon has seen my watchings)
I tell thee, none can name her infinite seeds
Like me; nor better knows her sparks of light,
Those Gems that shine in the blew-Ring of Heav'n;
None knows more Reasons for, or against yon' first
Bright Cause, can talk of accidents
Above me: yet I tell thee, once again,
There is a Thorn, call'd Conscience, makes its way
Through all the Fence of Pleasure, fortifi'd
With reasons, that this ill seem'd good to me,
And stings thy guilty Father to the Soul.

Pelop.
After the fierceness of uncommon pleasure,
A sudden heaviness is natural.

Andr.
Not but the fading Spirits will revive.

Mith.
Never, oh never: nor did I enjoy
Expected pleasure, tho these hands did hold,
All night, her panting Beauties to my breast;
But, oh! what joy, what pleasure, what content,
Cou'd my griev'd-heart receive in ravish'd kindness!
Her lips, which if Ziphares had been there,
Wou'd sure have shot their gleamy warmth at distance,
Were cold to me, as Odours are in Frost:
Her face, like weeping Marble, damp'd my flames;
And, as I drew her trembling to my Arms,
She fainted still, and woo'd me with such wailings,
Such languishings, and broken sighs, to leave her;
That, had not more than monstrous appetite
Transported me, the Rose had been unblasted.

Phar.
You think of her too much: the Sex of Women,
The ravish'd Beauties of the Earth together,
Deserve not half the grief that clouds your Brow.

Pelop.
Your Subjects want you, to defend their lives;
Each Citizen, in Armour clad, defends
His Houshold-Gods, standing to guard his door,
And cries, a Leader, let us to the Wars.

Mith.
The Thunderbolt of Mithridates battel,
That tore the Roman Banners, now is lost:
My arm, my arm, ev'n my right arm is lost.
Nor will my Trumpets sound, without Ziphares:
His Breath was as the Air, to all the Army;
His Face was as the Sun, in depth of Winter;
And made cold Cowards blush away their fears;
But he is set, for ever set in sorrow.

Andr.
Your Majesty is, of your self, sufficient
To Head your eager Troops; or brave Pharnaces
Stands forth, to fill Ziphares empty place.

Pelop.
Ziphares still your Royal Favour had,
To improve himself in Arms, against the Romans;
While, in inglorious Fields, Pharnaces strove
Amongst Barbarians, to get a Name:
And tho, perhaps, he greater pains imploy'd,
In rooting up such Rubbish of the Earth,
Than th' other did in felling the tall Trees;
Yet this was pay'd with Labour, that with Praise.

Mith.
Peace, Villains; peace, conspiring Sycophants:
Now, by the Gods, my eyes are half unseal'd;
But, if the thought that kindles in my breast
Finds proper fuel to increase my fire,
It shall consume you, Traytors; if I find
(Which I begin to do) that you have play'd
The Villain, Andravar, or thou Pelopidas,
And laid Semandra's Beauty as a snare
To catch Ziphares life, (Oh, all the Gods!)
And ruine me, by placing of the Bait:
Mark me, if ought of this, if any shadow
Appear, that you conspir'd to betray me;
I'll heap such horrours on your frighted Souls,
That you shall call your Brother-Devils up,
To snatch you hence, rather than stand my fury.

Pelop.
Why shou'd your Majesty suspect your Servants?

Mith.
Because thou did'st foment my fatal passion;
And, when I view thee well, my Genius bids
Beware of thee: tho thy most subtil Devil
Has wrought me still to listen to thy lies;
Thou art, methinks, maliciously contriv'd,
And hast, if ever yet a Villain had,
The Face of a most subtil working Slave.

Andr.
We have done nought, but what your Royal Word
Did Warrant: if you lov'd, shou'd we rebuke it?
Or durst we think to quench a fire, which you
Resolv'd shou'd burn?

Mith.
Yes, Traytors, yes; you ought,
When you had seen me going, to have stopt me:
My strugling Virtue might, with some assistance,
Have cast the Venom of my Passion up;
But, with your poysonous breath, you made it rage,
Till I was fit to ruine poor Semandra.
Enter Semandra.
But, oh! behold the Innocence I wrong'd!

Sem.
What, dost thou start? Oh Heav'ns! Semandra frights him!
Why, what a Monster then must I appear,
Whose Form can shake the bloody Mithridates!
'Tis sure, thou hast undone this helpless Creature,
[Weeping.
And turn'd to mortal paleness all her Beauties;
Thou hast made her hate the Day which once adorn'd
Her op'ning Sweets: how wretched hast thou made me!
Yet, Oh my Soul, thou inward knowledge, speak,
How much I hate this violated Shrine.

Mith.
Wretched Semandra!

Sem.
Dost thou pity me?
Is the long Line of my Eternal grief
Of such a Charming force, that it can fetch
Tears from that Rock? Ah, most unheard-of sorrow!
Dost thou repent? or are they but feign'd tears?
What-e're they are, thou should'st have thought before,
The cruel consequence of this dark deed;
VVhen I was heav'd in Air, and with my cries
Pierc'd the deaf Heav'ns, and call'd to thee for mercy,
Then had'st thou thus dissolv'd, I shou'd have blest thee:
But now, thy black Repentance comes too late.
What, Ah! what satisfaction canst thou make?

Mith.
Instruct me.

Sem.
No: there is in Nature none;
Since I can never be Ziphares Bride.
For if thou shou'dst consent to make us one,
And Heav'n shou'd Warrant it; nay, tho Ziphares
Extravagantly shou'd consent to take me,
Ah, cou'd I meet those dear, those faithful arms,
Which yet, in sleep, ne're touch'd a breast but mine,
Thus wrong'd, and thus defil'd, thus nothing left,
Of his Semandra, but her spotless mind!
This is too much to think. Ah, cruel King!
Now I cou'd curse, now I cou'd tear my self,
Now I cou'd weep, as if 'twere possible
To wash my stains out. Tell me, O you Pow'rs,
For I'll be calm, was I not worth your care?
And why, you Gods, was Virtue made to suffer?
Unless this World be but as fire, to purge
Her dross, that she may mount, and be a Star.
Were this but certain; Ah, there's nothing sure,
But my irrevocable Fate: undone Semandra!—
This, this is certain, Death with loss of Honour.

[Exit.
Mith.
Farewel, Semandra, thou most wrong'd of Women.
But I'll this instant go to Monima,
And if I find what I suspect; Pharnaces,
I'll cut thee off, as an infectious limb:
And, for those Villains, I shall quickly know
The wrong she has had; whose accus'd Innocence
If your foul words have sully'd with black slander,
Think not to scape, for shou'd you ride on Charms,
Take Winds to bear you, or the Lightning's speed,
With panting horrour to the brink of Hell,
I'de sweep you from the Verge to flames beneath,
And sink your Villanies with weighty death.

[Exit.
Phar.
First, sink your self, your Crown and Love together.
Pelopidas, this comes of your cool counsel:
Had I been heard, Monima had been gone
By this; enjoy'd, and Crown'd my Royal Bride,
And we receiv'd, as Conquerors, by the Romans.
Hast thou not heard how when Tygranes came,
And cast his Diadem at Pompey's feet,
He call'd him King, and rais'd him by that Name
To sit as Equal to the Roman Consul?
By all the Gods, I will not stay a moment,
But take immediately my flight; except
You swear to side with Rome; call Pompey hither,
And haste with all the Forces we can make,
To joyn his Army, and betray my Father.

Pelop.
A sudden thought of lucky mischief comes;
Old Archelaus is arriv'd, but left
The labour'd Army some few furlongs hence;
You know the violent love the Souldiers bear
The Prince your Brother; and we know too well,
And so do all the murmuring Citizens,
How cruelly your Father lately us'd him:
But that great Mole, the Multitude, ne're sees
Who works their Prince, but still take all on trust;
Therefore I instantly will spread amongst 'em,
How Archelaus was Conspirator
Against the Prince, and finding more advantage
To have the King his Son-in-law, by Letters
Basely compell'd his Daughter to the Marriage.

Phar.
Millions to one but this will set 'em on
To tear curst Archelaus, like mad Dogs.
Besides, I find, by frequent murmures, how
His Subjects are quite tir'd with length of War;
And, but last night, I know no less than twelve,
All Captains, who conspir'd to take the part
Of Pompey, and intreated me to Head 'em.

Andr.
Pursue the Treason, and be sure it cool not;
While I, with Tryphon, hasten to the Army:
A Priest will colour well our enterprise.
There will we give out all that Treachery
Can raise to fire 'em; how the King has doom'd
The Prince to death, having first ravish'd from him
The Fair Semandra, for whose sake he dies.

Phar.
While I immediately to Pompey send,
Who comes, I hear, on hasty march, to fight
Our Army, and besiege us in our Walls.

Pelop.
Thus shall the Prince and I rule all within;
And you, with the High-Priest my Brother, play
Your Parts without.

Phar.
I long to be in action:
And sure Rome must, for the great overthrow,
Give me my Father's Crowns; which gratitude
Shall distribute to both your utmost wishes.

Pelop.
We must not doubt your bounty.—But, away;
Enter Ziphares; with Ismenes, at distance.
Your melancholy Brother may o're-hear us.

Ex. Phar. Pelop. Andr.
Ziph.
Oh, my hard Fate! why did I trust her ever?
What Story is not full of Womans falshood!
The Sex is all a Sea of wide destruction:
We are the vent'rous Barks that leave our home,
For those sure dangers which their smiles conceal:
At first, they draw us in with flatt'ring looks
Of Summer-Calms, and a soft gale of Sighs:
Sometimes, like Syrens, Charm us with their Songs,
Dance on the Waves, and show their Golden Locks:
But, when the Tempest comes, then, then they leave us,
Or rather, help the new Calamity,
And the whole Storm is one injurious Woman.
The Lightning follow'd with a Thunder-bolt
Is Marble-hearted Woman: all the Shelves
The faithless Winds, blind Rocks, and sinking Sands,
Are Women all; the wracks of wretched men.
Prithee, Ismenes, while I lay me here,
Charm me with some sad Song into a slumber.

SONG; by Sir Car Scroop.

Enter Archelaus.
Arch.
How now, Ismenes? Prithee, gentle Boy,
Instruct me where to find thy Royal Master.
VVhat, dost thou weep? I charge thee bring me to him.

Isme.
See there, my Lord.

Arch.
Bless me, you Heav'nly Pow'rs,
Upon the Earth! It cannot be thy Master.
Is that a posture for a Conqueror?
He who so bravely beat the Romans back?
A General, and Triumpher? Haste, and show me.

Isme.
By Heav'n, it's true, my Lord; there lies the Prince.

Arch.
Something my heart presag'd, when, having left
The Army, I came posting to the Court,
And scarce receiv'd a welcom from my Friends:
They said the Prince had Triumph'd, but I saw
Not the least track of such a Glory left,
No glimmering twilight of so full an Honour.
There has been foul play, and I'll find it out.

Ziph.
Away, Semandra; cruel VVoman, leave me.

Arch.
Ha! goes it there? Ziphares, Prince, arise.

Ziph.
Ha! who is there? old Archelaus?

Arch.
VVhy
Do I not see you in a Chariot,
VVith all the Pride of Asia's brightest Gems?
VVhy mount you not the Throne which you deserve,
The Lords of Colchis waiting as your Slaves?
Give me some reason why I see you thus.

Ziph.
Alas, he had no hand in her revolt,
Nor knows not yet, perhaps, how she has us'd me:
VVhy do I seem thus strange then?—Oh, Archelaus,
(For I must never call thee Father more)
Pardon my faulty carriage.

Arch.
Forbear these strict imbraces,
Your tears, your hanging on my Bosom thus;
Your sighs reduce my Age to sobbing Childhood,
And make an Infant of your poor Old Man.

Ziph.
Did I not say I never more must call
Thee Father?

Arch.
Yes, you did.

Ziph.
Fond, foolish sorrow!
Thou art, thou shalt, thou must be still my Father,
My Brother, Sister, Mistress, all, my Friend;
For all but thou have left me: no kind eye
Pities the suff'rings of abus'd Ziphares;
They fly, all fly from my infectious Fortune.

Arch.
Nay, good dear Prince, stand up; you smother all
Your words with groans: dry up this womanish grief,
And speak, dear Sir, declare the cursed cause,
The baleful Spring, the Source of all this mischief.

Ziph.
VVou'd you believe it? scarce can I my self,
Oh Heav'ns, and oh you ever-burning Lights,
Who have beheld at midnight from your Orbs
Our flames, that kindled bright and chaste as yours,
Which of you all, which most malignant Star,
Show me that envious Fire that crost our loves,
That I may curse him from his fatal Sphere.

Arch.
Name it, I say, the ground of all this trouble;
I feel a warm revenge run through my blood,
As if I had put off some forty year:
Methinks I stand as fit to fight the Cause
Of Friendship now, as then I cou'd my Love's.
But speak.

Ziph.
Thy Daughter.

Arch.
Well, I guess'd Fate wounded there.

Ziph.
Semandra, my most fair, dear, gentle Mistress.

Arch.
If she be false, she is no longer fair.

Ziph.
That sweet protesting Creature, that pure whiteness,
Where I so deep had writ my Vows in blood,
Is taken from me.

Arch.
By her own consent?

Ziph.
Most certain. That Eternal Bond of Oaths,
Committed to her keeping, now is Cancell'd:
Ev'n her fair Hand, the Seal of all my Love,
Her Hand has given her faithless Heart away.

Arch.
Then, she is false? you know her to be so?

Ziph.
False, false, as waters, winds, or wand'ring fires:
She is more false than Woman can believe.

Arch.
The opening of her treachery, come, how was't?
Particular revenge wou'd know particulars.
At first, I guess'd she did receive you kindly.

Ziph.
Quite contrary, as if she ne're had seen me;
Quite alter'd, quite estrang'd, reserv'd and cold,
With all the coyness of a base-born Beauty,
Made proud with Pow'r: not one tender look;
The very Accent of her Voice was chang'd,
Nor was she to be known, but by her Beauty,
Nought else cou'd speak her to my Sense the same,
O nothing but the Face of my Semandra.

Arch.
When my keen Sword shall glitter in her eyes,
Doubt not, but I shall make her know you well;
And, tho you never grace her with your favour,
For she is now unworthy your imbraces,
Yet I will bring the Traytress to your knees.

Ziph.
Can it be
Thou shou'dst be ignorant, she's past the giving?

Arch.
I have not met the news, which your swoln eyes
Appear so big with.

Ziph.
Here I am lost again;
Here all my courage, which has born the blow
Of sternest War, shrinks like a beaten Coward:
Here, I confess, my Piety gives way,
I cou'd fall out with the forgetful Gods,
And curse the cruel Author of my Being.
No, Tyrant, no, thou bloody Parent, think not
That I will bear it longer; I'll forget,
Like thee, all nature, all remorse, all pity,
And snatch her from thee, wedded as you are.

Arch.
What, Wedded! Marri'd!

Ziph.
Wedded, Marri'd, Bedded;
He has enjoy'd her, rifled that fair Casket
Where all the riches of my life were laid:
Yes, yes, you Gods, I saw 'em pass along,
Pass to the Temple, through the crouded Streets,
Saw 'em come back, darted my wishing eyes
At her false Face, with such accusing glances,
She fainted in the Chariot; yes, I saw her
Sink pale, and dying down; but there I lost her,
And left her to the Revels of the Night,
To be enjoy'd, ev'n this last night enjoy'd.

Arch.
By all the Honours which she has dishonour'd,
She shall not live another.

Ziph.
Oh my Father!
Cou'd you but guess the pains that I endur'd,
Oh all the subtillest fits of sharpest sickness,
Were nothing to the torments which I bore:
I tim'd ev'n their disrobing kisses, smiles,
The first imbraces, and the racking joy;
But there methought Fancy it self was stopt,
It cou'd no more. The limit of my life
Was found, the end of all my joys on Earth.

Arch.
She dies; nor Destiny shall save her from me:
As she has sworn, and as she has forsworn,
I'll draw my Sword, bath'd in her dearest blood,
From forth her Heart-strings, while the rank red VVeeds
Cling to my reeking Blade: or wou'd you more?
I am grown up to your anger.

Ziph.
General, hold:
I have been Impious in my vented rage;
For which, oh pardon me, my Royal Father,
And you most injur'd Pow'rs, whom I offended:
And, oh, what-ever shall become of me,
Forgive the fair, the false, the lov'd Semandra.
If while I live thou mark her gentle Limbs
With the least wound, it ends Ziphares life:
Or if thou hurt her after I am dead,
Thou'lt raise my Ashes up in Arms against thee.

Isme.
My Lord, the Queen Semandra's coming hither.

Ziph.
Say'st thou?

Isme.
The Queen—But see, she enters.

Ziph,
Ha!

Enter Semandra.
Sem.
Oh Ziphares! Oh Prince! Oh thou most wrong'd!

Ziph.
How can this be? Madam, you ought at least
To have sent me word; for now, instead of Songs,
I can present you nothing but my tears,
A beating heart, and groans that will not suit
VVith your most happy state, your blest condition.

Sem.
Ah, did you rightly understand my suff'rings,
You wou'd not wound a bleeding, dying Creature:
But I'll endure yet more. VVhen I am dead,
And 'tis too late, you'l murmure to your self,
At least I might have heard what the poor VVretch
Cou'd say.

Arch.
Oh Syren! but I will be hush'd.

[Aside.
Ziph.
VVhat canst thou say, if I resolve to hear thee?
Thou wilt but tear the wounds which thou hast made.
This Visit was most cruel: why com'st thou then;
For fear I shou'd forget thee? Merciless VVoman!

Arch.
Yet let us hear her, Prince; let's hear the Sorceress;
That when sure Vengeance overtakes her Crimes,
She may have nought to answer.

Sem.
The good Gods
Reward that Voice of Mercy, First then, my Lord.

Ziph.
No; I'll be gone: Fly, Archelaus, fly,
She has a Tongue that can undo the VVorld.
She eyes me, just as when she first inflam'd me,
Such were her looks, so melting was her language,
Such false soft sighs, and such deluding tears,
VVhen from her lips I took the luscious poyson,
VVhen with that pleasing perjur'd breath avowing,
Her whispers trembl'd through these credulous ears,
And told the story of my utter ruine.

Arch.
Nay, 'tis impossible to clear her self;
And it was Impudence to offer at it:
Therefore, thou shameless Off-spring of my Blood,
I'll cut thee from me; thus, with all thy Crimes,
Die, as thou did'st desire.

Half-drawing: stopt by Ziph.
Ziph.
Hold thy hand;
I charge thee touch her not.

Arch.
By Heav'n, she dies:
I may dispose my own; she shall not live.

Ziph.
By all the Gods, she shall, while I have breath:
And, if thou draw'st, I'll guard her life with mine.
I shou'd be loth to lift my Arm 'gainst thee
Of all Mankind; but, were my Father here
Resolv'd to give her Death, I wou'd oppose him.

Sem.
Draw then, and sheath your weapons in my breast,
In curst Semandra's Heart; but for the VVorld,
Oh Father, do not wound the Prince Ziphares:
And, oh Ziphares, do not hurt my Father!
Upon my knees, I beg you to be calm,
And hear me thus.

Ziph.
Oh rise! false, as thou art,
Thou once wert Empress of my Soul, and I
Still drag thy Chains: Speak then, Semandra, speak;
For I'm so doz'd, so weary with complaining,
That I cou'd stand and listen to the VVinds,
And think that VVomen talk'd: observe the Rain,
And think that VVomen wept; or in the Clouds
Behold Semandra's Form, still fleeting from me.
But, speak: I lose my Senses with my Woes.

Arch.
He has sav'd thy life; come, make a handsom lye
In recompence.

Sem.
I will be short, as true.
When you were gone to Wars, the King relaps'd;
How prompted, Heav'n best knows: and when with Conquest
You came from Battel, he with dreadful threats
Compell'd me to receive you in that manner.

Ziph.
Ah, cruel Creature! what, what Menaces,
What fear of death, cou'd so have made Ziphares
Receive Semandra?

Sem.
Not Racks, nor all the Tortures
Which Hell combin'd cou'd put into the hearts
Of bloodiest Tyrant, shou'd have forc'd me to't,
But, oh! your life, which he with deepest Oaths
Had sworn to take, unless I seem'd to scorn you;
That dash'd my Spirits, bafled all the daring
Of my defenceless heart: there I confess
The Woman work'd; I trembled and agreed
To see you so, rather than lose you ever.

Arch.
Now, by my Arms, she has come off with wonder!

Sem.
And think, my Lord, reflect upon your self;
I dare believe so dearly once you lov'd me,
That were you certain I shou'd lose my life,
Unless you us'd me in that very manner,
I know you wou'd constrain your flame awhile,
And seem as cold, and as reserv'd as I.

Ziph.
Oh heart! oh bleeding Love! but speak, Semandra,
For there is wondrous Reason, mighty Sense
In what you say: and I cou'd hear you ever.

Sem.
When you were gone, the cruel King came in,
And, without stop, propos'd the fatal Marriage,
Which being deny'd, he forc'd me to the Temple.
Yet, at the Altar, I deni'd my hand,
Invok'd the Gods with the most violent sorrow,
Tears, sighs, and swoonings; curst the frighted Priests,
Struck down the Censors, and like one distracted
I mangled my own flesh; but all in vain:
I was suppos'd his Queen, and so enjoy'd.

Ziph.
Then still thy heart, thy heart was mine, Semandra?

Sem.
It was, it is, for ever shall be yours.

Ziph.
Oh, at thy feet, let me for ever lye,
Thus hang upon thy knees with dying grasps,
Thou most wrong'd Innocence, abus'd Semandra.

Sem.
Oh, my dear Lord, you shall not kneel without me.

Ziph.
Thou art not false then!

Sem.
Cou'd you think me so?
False to my Life, my Soul, my All I have!

Ziph.
I did; I thought thee false, and I deserve
To die, for wronging thy most matchless Faith:
For thou art true, constant as pining Turtles,
Constant, as Courage to the Brave in Battel,
Constant as Martyrs, burning for the Gods.

Arch.
What Changes drive bus'ness of the World!
Come, no more weeping: rise,
Think on the King, if he shou'd take you thus.

Ziph.
Oh rise, Semandra; what, what are we doing?
Why, Archelaus, why did'st thou cut me off
The moments pleasure which my thoughts were forming?
Thy cruel breath quite broke the brittle Glass
Of my short life, and stopt the running Sand.
What shall we do, Semandra?

Sem.
Part, and die.

Ziph.
Die, 'tis resolv'd; but how? that, that must be
My future care: and with that thought I leave thee.
Go then, thou Setting-star; take from these eyes,
(These eyes, that if they see thee, will be wishing)
O take those languishing pale fires away,
And leave me to the wide, dark Den of Death!

Sem.
Something within me sobs to my boding heart,
Semandra ne're shall see Ziphares more.

Ziph.
Away then; part, for ever part, Semandra:
Let me alone sustain those rav'nous Fates,
Which, like two famish'd Tygers, are gone out,
And have us in the Wind. Death come upon me;
Night, and the bloodi'st deed of darkness, end me.
But, oh, for thee, for thee, if thou must die,
I beg of Heav'n this last, this only favour,
To give thy life a painless dissolution:
Oh, may those ravish'd Beauties fall to Earth
Gently, as wither'd Roses leave their Stalks:
May Death be mild to thee, as Love was cruel;
Calm, as the Spirits in a Trance decay:
And soft, as those who sleep their Souls away.

[Exeunt.