University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

[Scene]

Scene, A Room in the Palace at Arbela.
Enter Artabasus, Dataphernes.
Ar.
Lord Bessus with his Bactrian Horse in Town?

Dat.
Just come, my Lord. Lord Nabarzanes too,
With his bold Scythians are not far behind.

Ar.
This is reviving news—the King has now
Considerable strength—see, my Lord's here.
Enter Bessus, Barzana, Oronte.
Oh! my Lord Bessus, welcome from the Grave
For the devouring Fields you left behind,
Are but one Grave of many miles extent.

Be.
'Tis true; where half the Kingdom lies interr'd.
Where is the King, my Lord?

Ar.
I do not know.
I mean the Glorious King you saw to day,
March to the Field; with pomp that made the day.
It had more light from him, than from the Sun.
Here's a despairing, and deserted Prince,
That came to Town a private Charioteer.
And has not only lost Dominion
Over great Nations, but his Royal Self,
His Passions rule, which they ne'r did before;
And rule so ill, the gallant Enemy
Wou'd (I'm sure) treat him with more gentleness.

Be.
No wonder, he has had a heavy blow.

Ar.
What Lady have you there?

Be.
My Wife, my Lord.

Ar.
Oh! Madam, I'm in doubt, if I may say
I'm glad your life is safe, for I believe
'Tis better to be dead, than as we are.

Be.
Not so, my Lord, we may recover all.
I find great numbers of brave Men in Town.
The King has yet great Provinces entire,
And chiefly Bactria, where I command.
There are a thousand Towns well fortified,
Where the proud Conquerors Fortune may be lost,
As in a Labyrinth with a thousand doors;
And the King scape, and re-ascend his Throne.
Therefore he need not much submit to grief.

Ar.
Alas! He grieves not only for himself,
But all his suffering Friends; for you, and me.
The griefs and losses of his faithful Slaves,
Are all of ours, that he wou'd ever share.
Other Proprieties he'd never touch,
Though he be Lord of all; but wou'd neglect
All Right, but what he has in his Friends tears.
Those he too carefully collects himself.
Now in the midst of his great Monarchy,
He's all alone, as in a Wilderness.
I'le go to him, and when I can have leave
To speak to him, I'le tell him you are come.
'Twill greatly comfort him; he loves you much.

Be.
The Gods preserve him.

Ar.
Madam, your sweet Youth
May live to better days; Heaven grant you may.

(Ex.
Be.
Madam, your Beauty may make better days;
At least with me, let Fortune do her worst,
Wou'd it please you. But Sorrow pleases you,
More than my Love; and ever has done so,
Since first you saw my Face? How? Saw my Face?
I do not know you ever look'd on me.
Your Eyes are turn'd away, or veil'd in tears.
Madam, this cannot easily be born:
I am less safe with you, than among all
The Macedonian Swords, I've scap'd from them,
Yet dye with torments in Barzana's Arms.
I am resolv'd, I will find out the cause.

Ba.
Alas! I fear, he will discover me.— aside,


(One whispers Dat.
Dat.
My Lord, my Lord, I've joyful news for you;
Your belov'd Son, Lord Memnon, is come safe.

(Barzana starts.
Ba.
Lord Memnon! ha! (aside.)
My Lord, I beg your leave
I may retire; I'm weary and not well.

Be.
Madam, I wish you may have more repose,
Than you can find in me.

Ba.
Nay, Why, my Lord,
Will you be cruel to your Self and Me?
I pray, forbear, if you desire my life.

Be.
More than my own; I've done-all health to you.
Ex. Ba. Oron. at one Door. At another, Enter Mem.
Well, I will trace her Sorrows to their Spring.
So! Here's another joy. Welcome, young Man,
Come to my Arms, for you deserve my Love.
Y'ave done me, in the Field, no little Grace,
It wou'd be strange, if thou should'st not be brave,
Thy Mother had more Manhood, than our Men.
Well, thou art come into a ruin'd World,
Where thy great Virtue will have no reward.

Me.
My Lord, I am rewarded in your Love.
Our Honour, and our Friends, is wealth enough.

Be.
'Tis true indeed; there is great wealth in Love.
Oh! Son, I've Married so much Excellence.

Me.
So I am told, my Lord.

Be.
Do not admire,
I never brought thee yet into her sight,
I durst not do it; for to produce thee,
Had been too bold a boast of my past Love
To thy fair Mother, to affront my Wife.
And I wou'd not offend her, for the World.

Me.
My Lord, You need not make excuse for this.
You but observe the custom o'the place.
'Tis thought a horrid profanation
To Persian Beauties, to be visible.
They are conceal'd, like Divine Mysteries.
A Sister does not see a Brother here.

Be.
True; and, I prithee, come not in her sight,
I brought her from the Battle; She's in Town.

Me.
How shall I shun her? For I know her not?

Be.
Do not approach this Palace, here She's lodg'd,
With other Beauties that escap'd the Fight.

Me.
I shall observe your pleasure carefully.

Be.
Now, go thy ways—here is another Friend.

Exit Me. And Enter Nabarzanes.
Na.
Lord Bessus, I am glad to see you safe.

Be.
I doubt we are not safe; the King is strong.

Na.
In what?

Be.
In Persians.

Na.
Strong in Persians?
They can be strong in nothing but Perfumes;
They have no Spirits, but from Essences.

Be.
They'r above thirty thousand.

Na.
Say, they be.

Be.
Danger breeds Valour. They who poorly fell,
Were Embrio's, and miscarriages of War.
But Danger has gone out her time with these.
Then, he has Patron, and four thousand Greeks.

Na.
They, I confess, give the King's Sword an edge.

Be.
And I have scarce four thousand Bactrian Horse.

Na.
True, and my Scythian Archers are no more.

Be.
And then he has a Guard, which all Slaves fear;
Religious awe of Kingly Majesty.

Na.
When other Forces fly, that never stays.
That Kings have the Militia, on Earth,
Is fit; shou'd they have that of Heaven too?
Vain Panique fears, and Superstitions?
I'l suffer none, to List among my Troops.

Be.
He has one Guard, I fear, that's Misery.
It somthing touches me, but that's not all,
I've an insatiable and burning Love
For Glory; and to fall on a fallen King,
Will much deface the Beauty of my Fame.

Na.
We'l serve the King, save him from misery.
Fortune declares her Self his Enemy;
And we will lay him safe out of her way.
He shall enjoy the ease, and pomp of Power,
And we'l endure the danger and the toil.

Be.
Ha! 'tis well thought. The King will yield to this.

Na.
We'l make it our request.

Be.
Do—I agree.

Na.
Where is he now?

Be.
He is shut in with Grief,
And Artabasus, the Old General.

Na.
Let us prepare our Friends, and watch our time;

Be.
Do—'tis a brave design, to save one King
And beat another; save a ruin'd King,
And beat his Conqueror,—then save the World
From both, by Liberty,—it will be great—
—It will be Glorious—we shall be ador'd.

Na.
There will be cause, while Glorious Murderers.
Destroy mankind to form a Tyranny
We'l destroy Tyranny to form Mankind.

Be.
'Tis true; how Cruel is it and unjust,
Whole Nations shou'd in Sorrow Live and Die,
That one great Lyon may his Lust enjoy.

Exeunt.
Sceneis drawn.
Darius is set Musing and Sad, Artabasus attending.
Da.
Oh! Why was Alexander born for me,
To make my Crown a Misery to me;
Which I have made a Happiness to all.
Tyrants, who spar'd not Heaven and Earth, were spar'd:
How can Man find, what way is to walk,
If Fortune will thus blindly plough up all.

Ar.
Come Sir, I pray, do not afflict your self,
You gave your pleasure bounds, limit your grief.
And you, who ne'er broke Law, nor injur'd Man,
Do not break reasons law, in your own wrong.

Da.
I'd know my Crimes, that have deserv'd all this.

Ar.
I know of none.

Da.
Nay, prithee, flatter not.

Ar.
Oh! Sir, was ever I a Flatterer?

Da.
Never, till now.

Ar.
And this is an ill time,
In your Calamity, and my great Age.
For what can you bestow, or I receive?
I've reach'd a Hundred years, now wanting Five.
My Love to Honour, Conscience and my King,
Are all the Appetites, I have to please.

Da.
Oh! Why have I all sorts of Miseries?

Ar.
Those happen to you, as you are a Man.
For what is a Man? A Congregation
Of disagreeing things; His place of Birth,
A confus'd crowd of fighting Elements,
To nothing fixt, but to Eternal change;
They wou'd all lose their Natures, shou'd they fix.

Da.
Why, say they did, were they not better lost
Than kept at such Expence; what does poor Man
Pay for vain Life?

Ar.
What's matter what he pays;
Gods did not make this World only for Man.
He's but a parcel o' the Universe;
A fellow Servant with the meanest thing,
To carry on the Service o' the whole,
And pleasure o' the Gods, the Lords of all.

Da.
Can human Sorrows be delights to Gods;

Ar.
Our Sorrows are not, but our Troubles may,
A Great Man, vanquishing his destiny,
Is a great Spectacle worthy of Gods.

Da.
Give me thy Hand; years have not gone by thee,
Like empty idle Vagrants, but like Kings,
And given thee Riches to relieve a King.

Enter an Eunuch.
Eu.
Lord Bessus, Nabarzanes—

Da.
Are they here.

Eu.
They have been waiting for access some time,
Lord Memnon, Patron too—

Da.
Bring 'em all in.

Enter Bessus, Nabarzanes, Memnon, Patron, Dataphernes, several Bactrians.
Da.
Oh! Welcome, my brave Friends, come to my Arms,
I'm joy'd to see your safety and your Love;
Follow me now? You are true Friends indeed.
I will complain of Misery no more;
For I perceive it is the great Art of Heaven,
To give us better taste of what we have:
A Friend was ne'r so sweet to me before.
'Tis hard in prosp'rous Fortune to know Friends:
Now I am certain you attend on me,
This is to me my first apparent Court.
Though I've not fought, I've lov'd with great success.
There is no State, in which the bounteous Gods
Have not plac'd Joy, if Men wou'd seek it out;
Well, Sirs, What news? How many have we lost?

Be.
Above four hundred thousand, Sir, 'tis said.

Da.
Oh! my amazing merciless destiny.

Be.
'Twas not a Battle, but a Massacre.

Na.
Oh! Sir, I wish your Sorrows might end here.
But though they'r heavy, as the heart of Man
Has strength to bear, I must enlarge 'em yet.
Your great Lievtenants, Sir, and Governors,
Have flung up all their Towns and Provinces.
Mithrenes has resign'd Armenia,
False Mazeus, the once Glorious Babylon.
The Governor of Damas with the Town.
Betray'd the Kingdom—For, Sir, in that Town
You had lodg'd Wealth enough, to regain all.

Da.
Two hundred thousand Talents in coin'd Gold.
In Silver twice the sum; with Diamonds
And Jewels, of inestimable price.

Be.
Alas! This was not all the Riches, Sir.
Your Princes, and great Lords, had (as they thought)
There secur'd all the Beauty o' the East,
I mean their lovely Wives, and Daughters, Sir.
And this inhuman Coward betraid 'em all.
That Wives of Princes serv'd the Lusts of Slaves,
And poorest wretches shone in Robes of Kings;
Such Scorn did Fortune throw on this World's Pride.

Da.
Oh! my immense boundless Calamities.
Though Iv'e so many thousands lost in Fight,
I must lament that I have lost no more,
Better my Cities mount to Heaven in Fire
Than sink by Cowardly villany to Hell.
And they'r preferr'd who meet with Noble Death,
Above the Villains, who by Treason Reign.

Me.
A little Joy were seasonable now.
And I've a little for you, Sir.

Da.
Ha! Joy?

Me.
The Coward of Damas, fled to Babylon.
And with his Brother Villain Mazeus went
To meet the Enemy, with triumphant pomp.
As if the conquest of their Honesties,
Had been most Honourable Victories.
I heard it wou'd be so, took some brave friends,
And slew 'em both before the Conqueror's Face.
Then brought their Heads away, and there they are.

Da.
Oh! brave young Man!—Now I'm subdued by thee;
I've nothing to reward thy Gallantry,
So thou hast made a Vassal of thy King.
I'm overcome by Enemies and Friends.
Good Gods, for all my Losses, Suff'rings, Wrongs,
Favour my gallant Friends, I'll ask no more.

Ar.
Oh! exc'llent Prince! Will the Gods leave a Prince,
To whom they give such pledges of their Love,
I mean such God-like Virtue's and brave Friends?

Da.
'Tis true; Can I despair, and have such Friends?
By you, I'm still a Great and Glorious King,
Able to fight with Alexander yet.
And by the Gods, I'le do't, I thought on flight,
The vile Decree with horror I revoke.
Shall I fear any thing while I have you?
And I am sure, there is not in the World,
A danger you wou'd shun like shameful flight.
And shall I lead you on to Infamy?
No, I will shew, I deserve Men so brave,
I will march back, and fight the Enemy.
One blow may scatter all his Victories.
They'r lumber pil'd disorderly in haste.

Pa.
Oh! Fortune in this Monarch see thy faults,
(aside.
And frailties; he'l be great in spite o'thee.

Da.
What means this silence in you all, my Lords?
If you have fear, I'm sure it is for me.

Be.
Ay, so it is, Great Sir.

Da.
So I believe.
But is there anything to fear, like Shame?
And shall I shamefully desert my Self?
In my own Empire, be a banish'd Man?
Or, like my Traitors to the Conqueror creep,
To be a petty Lord of some poor Town,
And there in safty lock my little Heart?
I charge you, kill me, when I e're devise
Such infamous destruction for your King.
No, I will be a King, or not at all.
My Life and Reign shall have one period.
But if your Resolutions be, like mine,
We will yet give our Sorrows a brave end.
Justice is for us, so may Fortune be.
I'm a bright proof of her inconstancy.
But if no God will lend us any aid,
Let us be Gods, and Fortune to our Selves.
And signalize our Selves by such a Fight,
May shew, at least, we deserve better fates.
—All silent still?—

Ar.
Sir, you exceed us all,
As much in Spirit, as in Dignity.
What Soul but yours is not with horror seiz'd,
Viewing the danger that approaches us?
Sir, you deserve the Empire o'the World.
And we'l endeavour, Sir, to deserve you.
Great Sir, go on, and we will follow you.
You have prepar'd us all with Glorious Arms,
With hopes of Victory, and scorn of Death.

Pa.
Sir, We are strangers, owe our Birth to Greece.
So are free Troops, and may march where we please.
But yet to shew, we fight for Fame, not Pay;
And did not serve your Money, but your Self,
We are all ready to lay down our Lives,
And on our Sepulchres, erect your Throne.
For what a Glory will it be to us,
To make the Persian King our Monument?

Da.
I look'd, brave Patron, for no less from thee.
Now it will be a shame if Persian Lords
Let a poor stranger in their King's own Court,
Outshine 'em all, in Love and Loyalty.

Me.
The Gods forbid.—Lead on, most Royal Sir,
I have some wounds require my present care,
But, Sir, they will not indispose me long.

Ex.
Be.
Now speak our Thoughts to him, we are prepar'd.

Na.
You shew a Courage, Sir, that shames your Fate,
Which gives your Crown from your Descent and Right.
But what has made Heaven blush, shall make you bleed.
Fate plots your ruine by your Gallantry.
Alas! we are not now, as we have been,
A Sea of Men, that delug'd the whole Earth,
Swallowed the Rivers, devour'd Nature's Store,
Emptied the spacious vessel o' the World.
More than the grasp o'Providence cou'd hold;
That down we fell in heaps, now 'tis not so.
We may be numbred now; all we can do
Is but to gain some pity for our selves,
And Honourably throw away our King.
Brave Men scorn Death, but yet they value Life;
Because their Lives are useful to the World.
It is enough—too much,—Danger and Death
Follow us fast, let us not follow them.
Sir, I most humbly move (Heaven knows my Soul,
In tenderness to you, not to our selves;)
Retreat with us, to neighb'ring Bactria.
Sir, there are endless Forests of brave Youth,
Whence in few days we will have rods enow,
To scourge the Macedonian pride to death.
But then we beg you'l make one more retreat.

Da.
Whither?

Na.
Sir, out of the Dominion
Of your ill Planets.—

Da.
Ha!—What dost thou mean?

Na.
Sir, we dare fight with Men, but not with Heaven:
And all the Gods appear your Enemies.
What if you hid in privacy and ease?
It wou'd be pious reverence to Heaven,
And a brave conquest over your own Mind.
Let none subdue Darius but himself.
Fling up awhile to th'importuning storm,
Some of your Dignity to save the rest.
And make your Court to Heaven, and all brave Men,
By honouring the favourite of both,
Lord Bessus, with the Sovereign power.

Da.
How now?—

Na.
Nay, Sir, but for a while, till he has lur'd
Gods, and revolting Nations to your aid.
He is ador'd by Men, obey'd by Gods.
They all observe his Will, they'l not deny
Your Crown to him, and when 'tis in his hand,
He'l faithfully return it to your Self.

Da.
Oh! Villain! most amazing, impudent,
And cowardly Villain! hast thou watch'd thy time,
When Treason may be insolent and safe?
And to my Face abuse me, unchastis'd?—
No, Traytor.—

Da. Draws—Bessus and his Men interpose, and hold the King.
Be.
Hold, Sir, do not hurt your Self.

Da.
Ha! I am seiz'd and threatned—Are you all
In this conspiracy?

Pa.
No, I am not—
Pa. and the Greeks draw.

Be.
Hold, Patron, hold—hold all, that love the King.
He will receive no hurt, except from you;
Our Blood is his, perhaps his vital Blood.
In me you'l cut whole Nations from his aid.

Na.
Before we spoke, we did consider well
The strength, both of our Reason, and our Swords.

Ex. Be. Na.
Da.
Ha! Was this Bessus?

Pa.
Sir, Will you bear this?
By Heavens, I wou'd rather endure the Swords
Of these bold Villains, than their impudence.

Da.
It stunn'd me, but I now recover Sense.
Brave Patron, follow me; follow me all.
Though my hard Fortune will not suffer me
To conquer Kings, I'll be more like a God.
I will defend all Kings, even those unborn.
By the reward these Villains shall receive,
Their dire confusion shall be the defence
Of Kings and Kingdoms, forty Ages hence.

Ar.
Oh! he is running to his certain death.
Oh! Sir.—

(Ar. falls at the King's Feet.
Da.
What dost thou mean?

Ar.
Pity your Self—
Your Friends, your Children; you will ruin all.

Da.
Will none stand by me then?

Pa.
Yes, Sir; we will.

Da.
De'e see? Oh! Shame! More Love, more Loyalty,
In this brave Stranger, than in all my Friends;
Whom I have made more rich, than all his Greece?
Come, Patron, bring thy Greeks, they'r strength enough.

Ar.
Oh! If you'l go to ruin, pass through me,
My life has long been useless to myself.
I shall abhor it, when 'tis so to you,
And, nor my Sword, nor Counsel can prevail.

Da.
Oh! How am I beset? the Enemy
Is at my Back, my Friends fly in my Face?

Ar.
Oh! Sir, I speak my Loyal Care of you,
The Enemy is near, your Army small;
The Macedonian was too great a weight
For us to bear, when we had Millions.
Alas, What shall this little Body do?
When you have maim'd it too? and have cut off
Its strongest limbs? for so these Great Men are,

Da.
They are cut off from all their love to me.

Ar.
Indeed, Sir, I believe, their meaning good.
They have stood bravely by you, Sir, till now;
Stood stronger than the Walls of Babylon:
For they are fallen in shame by base revolt.
If they meant well, pardon their erring love.
Do not destroy 'em for some kind mistakes.
If they be bad, Mercy may change their Hearts.

Da.
Do what you will; for all must Reign but I.
Oh! My misfortunes.

Ar.
Pray, Sir, do not grieve.

Da.
Nay, prithee, if I may not be a King,
Yet let me be the Mourner of a King,
I am all the Mourners that my death shall have.

Ar.
Then am I false?

Da.
No—pardon me, good Man.

Pa.
Who can pretend to Honor, or a Soul,
And not be touch'd with such a Princes wrong?

Ar.
'Tis true, then can the Men, he has oblig'd
Conspire to wrong him? if they had the Thought,
I doubt not but they will abhor themselves;
And I shall fling 'em at his Feet in tears.

Pa.
Or, by the Gods, I'l fling 'em there in Blood.

Da.
Oh! how shall I reward thee, noble Greek?
Well, it is possible they may mean well.
Then, on submission I will pardon 'em,
And take 'em to my Favour yet; for I
Fear more to do injustice than to dye,

(Ex.
Pa.
Come, my brave Countrymen, stand to your Arms;
And let us shew what a true Soldier is:
He's no Mechanique Slave, that sells his breath,
But a just generous Lord, of life and death.
Not a wild Beast, that knows no Law, but Lust;
He destroys beastial Men, or makes 'em just.
The Cut-throat does a Soldiers name prophane,
Pretending to be more, he's less a Man;
The worse for Reason, by that Artful tool,
More hurtful than a Beast, he kills by Rule.
But the true Soldier does Mankind create,
By forcing Reason on a brutal State.
When Oaths are Wind, and Laws but childish Rods,
The Soldier comes, like Thunder, from the Gods.

(Ex.

[Scene]

Scene, A Room in the Palace, Barzana sate melancholy, attending to a Song. Somtimes weeping,—Oronte waits.
Ba.
Oh miserable me!

Or.
Astonishment in everlasting Sighs, Complaints, and Tears?
This must not be, it leads her from her Sense
Madam—! She minds me not—Madam—I beg?—
You will not always listen to your Griefs,
But to your Friends somtimes.

Ba.
Trouble me not.

Or.
Madam, you are a trouble to your self.

Ba.
Be gone, I'de be alone.

Or.
I wou'd you were.
But you associate with a cruel Grief,
That does return your kindness very ill.
You grace a Melancholy that devours
The Beauties, whence it has its wondrous Grace.
Nay, Madam, it is dangerous to your life.
You neither eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
You go to Bed for liberty to weep;
And the Night leaves you, as she found you, in tears,
Day dries not up that Dew, you only breath
To sigh, and not to live. Your Reason wasts,
You see not, hear not, mind not any thing.
Somtimes your Fancy hunts a thousand things,
But e're they'r found, alas your Fancy's lost.

Ba.
Thou wilt be troublesome, but thou mean'st well,
Therefore I pardon thee; How tyr'd am I
With sitting, and till now, I knew it not?
Come, let us walk?

Or.
Where will you please to walk?

Ba.
I know not where.

Or.
Abroad in the fresh Air?

Ba.
No, I shall be disturb'd with company.

Or.
Then in the Gallery?

Ba.
No, it wants Air.

Or.
Then in the Grove?

Ba.
I will not walk at all.
Fetch me a Book, I'le read—let it alone—
Go call the Musique back again—no, stay—
It was too noisy; a soft gentle Lute
Wou'd please me better.—But another time—
How ill you dress me, Sir?

Or.
Dear Madam, Why?

Ba.
I'm cumber'd with a thousand needless things.
Art need not study vanity for us;
We have too much from Nature.

Or.
Will you please
To change your dress?

Ba.
Then you will be a toil.
Wou'd I cou'd change myself
For any thing besides.

Or.
She weeps again.

Ba.
I'le to my Closet—no, I will abroad.
Release me quickly from the slavery
Of all this formal, and superfluous dress.
The World's in War—I'le be an Amazon—
Tye back my Hair, but not with any Art—
Come—a short Robe—lay naked my right Arm.
A Javelin there shou'd be the only grace.
My Horse!—my Horse!—Oh! I am prest to death—
Under your earthy sloth. Oh! you good Gods!
That I were now among the Warriors,
Gaining Eternal Honors to myself.
Eternal Honors?—No—Eternal Shame,—
Shewing my Follies, as I madly do.
—Oh! I am curs'd—curs'd—by some angry Power,
That makes a foolish and vile thing o'me,
And then exposes that to shame for me.
Gods, if you'l take my Reason, take my Life,
Leave me not Sense, only to feel my Grief.

Or.
Oh! Madam, Madam, in all reverence
To your Command and Will, I've born your Griefs
Till they have torn your Reason, and my Heart.
I must assault 'em now.—And on my knees
I humbly beg you will discover 'em.

Ba.
Away, away.

Or.
No, Madam, pardon me
I will pay all obedience to your self.
But, oh! no more to your distractions.

Ba.
Be gone, I say.

Or.
I will not, cannot, go.

Ba.
Thou dost not know, how troublesome thou art,
And to what little purpose, shou'd I tell
My griefs to thee, it wou'd increase 'em more;

Or.
You know not that, you have a noble Mind.
But at the present 'tis not in your power.
My little Counsels now may aid you more.
Be not so faithful to your Misery;
Betray it to me.

Ba.
'Tis impossible.
Oh! I cou'd easier rip my Bosom up,
And shew the Sun my naked Heart, than thee.

Or.
I do not think the dangers o' your Lord—

Ba.
Ay, there it is—

Or.
No, you are cold to him.
Oh! there is somthing more, and I must know.

Ba.
Well, I will tell thee.

Or.
Do.—

Ba.
Another time.

Or.
When 'tis too late—consider what you do.
I know y'have so much kindness for your Lord,
You wou'd be loth wholly to lose his Heart;
And there's a beauteous Amazonian Queen
By whom Lord Bessus has a Noble Son.—

Ba.
Undone! Undone! Thou hast discover'd me.

Or.
Discover'd what?

Ba.
As if you did not find.

Or.
Madam, I swear I know not what you mean.

Ba.
You know too much. Had I a Dagger here,
I'de lock thy Bosom to Eternity.

Or.
I wish you had, and it were in my Breast,
If any ill has hapned to your Self.

Ba.
She takes a pleasure to repeat my Shame.

Or.
Your Shame?—Your Shame, de'e say?

Ba.
My Hell—nay, worse—
Shame is a torment which the damn'd know not.
The damn'd have darkness to conceal their Shame.
But mine will suddenly break out to light,
I cannot bear the torment of my Love.

Or.
Oh! now your Sorrows shew their mournful Face.
You love—your Husband's Son.

Ba.
No more—no more,
I tremble at the thought—I'm sick to death,
If the word Love but touch my Tongue, or Ear.
'Tis Sin to talk of Sin.

Or.
Your Love's no Sin.
It is your Glory, now you vanquish it.

Ba.
I do not, do not, cannot vanquish it.
I dare not trust myself, with Love or Life.
I'le seek out death by all the ways I can.

Or.
Hold, Madam, hold—

Ba.
Why? Am I fit to live?

Or.
If you be not, you are less fit to dye.

Ba.
Death ends my Sin.

Or.
Murther increases it.

Ba.
It will be Justice on an impious wretch.
I'le thrust all Hell into one painful hour.
And then, good Heaven (I hope) will claim no more.

(Exit