University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

[Scene]

Scene, The Palace.
Enter Darius, Artabazus, Guards.
Ar.
Oh! Sir! the Men are good and penitent;
And brave as good; and I shall see you yet
As Happy, Great, and Glorious as ever.

Da.
No, Artabazus, no, my Queen is dead.
I never can be happy in this World.
But I wou'd give my Kingdom happiness.
Go, call 'em in—

Enter Bessus and Nabarzanes, who prostrate themselves before the King, and weep.
Be.
Oh! Great and Gracious King
Oh! infinite is our confusion,
We humbly beg you will regard our tears—
We can express our Grief no other way.

Da.
Indeed, I do not know what to regard,
Nor what you are—you seem so strange to me,
I think you are my Subjects, are you not?

Na.
Yes, Sir, and faithful ones, whate're we seem.

Da.
A Subject without terror of his King,
Is an unnatural thing in Persia.
You are portentous Omens of my death.

Be.
Oh! narrow World! a Virtue that exceeds
The common size, appears portentous here.
The World is fallen on your Sacred Head,
And now we cannot stand on forms of State,
But we must get you out what way we can.
And, Sir, indeed we thought this was the best.
But now, because 'twas bold, it appears bad.

Da.
What cou'd befal me worse, than what you sought,
Tamely to yield my Crown, at your demand,
And serve my Slaves? nothing can throw me down,
So low as that, but my own cowardize:
I will not yield the Conqueror my Crown,
I'le rather singly sight with all his Troops;
For by 'em all, I can be kill'd but once.
But yield my Crown I suffer many deaths,
In my own Shame, and my dear Childrens Tears,
Who then, no more are Children of a King.
And wou'd you wish me cowardly, infamous,
And cruel to my Children?—Oh! Is this
Your kindness to me? You ingrateful Men.
Oh! Who wou'd not ha' thought you were my Friends?
Who wou'd ha' thought you cou'd be otherwise?
For I beset you with my Favours so,
No Hearts, but yours, cou'd scape from loving me.
And now for you to hurt your King, and Friend?
And at that time when I am prest to death,
Under a fallen Throne, a ruin'd House,
My Mother, Brother, little only Son,
Both my sweet Daughters in captivity,
And my Queen dead?

Na.
Oh! Sir—No more—no more—

Be.
Yes, Sir, Go on, go on, and break our Hearts.
For we desire to dye, since we grieve you.

Da.
You deserve it for your cruelty.
Had you by private Treasons stollen my life—
You had shewn more Humanity, than now;
For then I had not felt the barb'rous blow;
That had shewn Reverence, call'd me a Dread King;
This calls me Fool and Coward to my Face.
I shew'd no fear o'the brave enemy,
Why shou'd you think I wou'd be seiz'd by you?

Na.
We did not hope to work upon your Fear.
We know you have no Fear, but on your Love.
We know you have a truly Royal Soul,
That love your People with paternal Love,
And we petition'd, Sir, for all our Lives
Which hourly perish by your destiny.

Be.
Yes, Sir, 'tis plain; while you are in the Field
We fall in heaps; you are no sooner gone,
But as your Chariot wheels turn'd Heaven round,
Success is ours, and the whole day is chang'd.
And we wou'd fix our Fortune to your Crown,
Your dangers to our Heads; in off'ring this
We have discharg'd our Duties, and can dye.

Na.
Nay, wish to dye, to ease you of your fears;
Better we dye, than you shou'd want repose:
We pray not for our Lives, Sir, but your Love.

Da.
Oh! now you vanquish me, come to my Arms—

Be.
Oh! excellent King.

Na.
Too Good—too Gracious.

Da.
I will not sacrifice great things to vile
Men, good and gallant to revenge and fear.
No, do your Duty, Sirs, and I'le do mine.
Leave the dispose of Crowns to Kings and Gods.
Preserve your Honours, that's enough for you.
Conquer a Conqueror, not a fallen King.
And your own King, you want no Enemies;
Oh! make not any for your selves by crimes.
The Macedonian King pursues us fast—
And I perhaps shall perish by his Sword,
That you may spare the guilt of murd'ring me.

Be.
Oh! Horror! Do you think we have the thought?

Na.
Oh! you suspect us, that is worse than death.

Da.
No—no—I only counsel you in love—
For you possess my Heart, though I've lost yours.

Be.
Oh! say not so.

Da.
I hope, 'tis otherwise.

Na.
But you believe it not.

Da.
Well, I ha' done.
Be what you seem, and all shall be forgot.
And what we do, lets do like gallant Men.
Who bravely fall have this one happiness,
Above the Conqueror, they share his Fame,
And have more Love, and an unenvied Name.

(Ex. Da Ar. Guards.
Na.
This was the only way to vanquish him.
I found we cou'd not gain the Persians,
I often talked to 'em of Liberty.
Alas! they understood not what I meant,
For in the Persian Tongue is no such word.
They answer'd nothing, but the King, the King;
His Sacred Majesty, long live the King,
That mighty comprehensive word, the King,
Had all the Sense a Persian Thought cou'd hold.
So I thought this our only secure way,
We cou'd not fight the Greeks and Persians.

Be.
Now I cou'd easier have fought 'em both,
Than stoop'd to all this base Hypocrisie,
I think 'tis harder to subdue him now,
Than if he had his Millions at his heels.
For Sovereign Power springs out o' the Sword.
If I had conquer'd him in a fair Fight,
I had both gain'd his Kingdom and his Right.
Now on our Selves, and our brave Friends we fall
And turn 'em into Fools and Villains all.
Glory I court, and I wou'd have my Love
Fair and complete, as She's enjoy'd by Jove.

Na.
And so you will; Jove did for Empire frame
A World of Fools and Knaves, we do the same.
Were there no Knaves, what use of Sovereign sway?
And if there were no Fools, Who wou'd obey?

Ex.

[Scene]

Scene, Another Apartment in the Palace. Enter Bar. and Or.
Ba.
Now I have told the secrets of my Heart,
I have much eas'd my Heart; it is more cool,
My Reason does begin to come in play;
Though I find great misfortune in my Love,
I have this comfort, there is no great guilt.
I lov'd the Son, e're I the Father saw.
It pleas'd the Gods, (I know not for what sin)
In the great Field, at the Cilician Streights,
First to begin the dreadful day on me.
Darted into my Eyes, into my Soul,
The shining, the consounding killing charms
Of the most Noble Youth, they ever form'd.
As the first sight of him my Soul dissolv'd.
It was some time e're I had breath to speak.
At length I hid my Face, and whisp'ring you,
Bid you enquire, who that Commander was.

Or.
You did; I thought 'twas Curiosity,
And gave you information.

Ba.
To my Joy.
He quickly rode away out o' my sight.
But left such strong impressions on my Soul.
Though many thousands fell before my Face,
The day was lost; nay, my own liberty,
I saw it not, Memnon was in my Eye.
But oh! my misery soon waken'd me;
And then I shriek'd, more out of fear,
For Memnon than my Self; for I despair'd
To see him more, except amongst the dead.
As we were led over our slaughter'd Friends,
Envying their gory mangled Carkasses,
The same brave Youth, whom I had in my Heart,
Came shining once again into my Eye,
With new, and brighter splendors than before;
For he brought Honour, Conquest, Liberty.
Dispers'd the Enemy, as Winds do Sand,
And quickly made free passage for my flight.
You must remember it, for you were there
In the same Chariot with me.

Or.
Yes, I was,
And so was he, I think.

Ba.
What do you mean?

Or.
I'm sure his Eye was, and I think, his Heart.

Ba.
Away—but if it was, so much the worse,
For then his misery wou'd be like mine.

Or.
Wou'd it afflict you to be lov'd by him:

Ba.
Yes, to his grief; else 'twou'd extremely please.

Or.
I know not if he loves, this I am sure,
He was your Guard, your Beauty was his Guide.
For all the way he by your Chariot rode
His Eye did never fail to follow yours,
His Tongue said little, but his Looks said much.
Indeed that was no time or place for talk.
Our Ears were with a thousand noises fill'd,
Ay, and our Hearts too with a thousand fears.
Alas! This short success was only lent,
Fortune did soon demand her Favours back:
The Enemy pursued; the gallant Youth
Was forc'd to turn on them, and you to fly.

Ba.
Oh! I fled slowly, with a heavy Heart.
A thousand times did I turn back my Eye,
Ay, and I think as oft my Chariot,
Wishing to see him come a Conqueror.
But 'twas in vain to stay, the night came on,
So I went forwards, and let Fortune drive;
Who led me to Eternal Misery,
In the first ylace, where I my safety sought.
There with the King, Lord Bessus lay conceal'd,
Who at first sight o' me, flam'd out with Love,
And begg'd in me his ruine o' the King.

Or.
Why did you not inform the King your love?

Ba.
I did, in what I cou'd, blushes and tears.
But the word Love I had not power to speak.

Or.
Oh! fatal Modesty! But see; my Lord.

Ba.
Oh! my disorders will discover me.
What can I say, why I as yet a Bride,
Have all the Sorrow of a captive Slave?

Enter Bessus.
Be.
Madam, may I approach?

Ba.
My Lord, you know
You are a Sovereign here.

Be.
I have some right.
But Grief usurps my room; I cann't bear
A Rival in my Bed.

Ba.
Rival, my Lord?—

Be.
That is my Rival sure that shares with me,
And I methinks have the least part in you.
What Favours I receive, you rather give
To Marriage Vows than Me. Those Cherubims
Are not for Idols, but for Ornaments:
To grace Love's Altars, not to be ador'd.
Madam, you may believe it troubled me,
To be excluded thus my Joy and Right.
I wou'd not very tamely yield it up.
I have been searching for my Enemy,
And I believe I have th'Offender found.

Ba.
What does he say—

(aside.
Be.
Madam, I call to mind
When we last parted, news was brought to me,
My Son was come; his Name disorder'd you.

Ba.
Undone!—Undone!—I am betraid—

(aside.
Be.
'Tis so.
My Son! My Son.

Ba.
Your Son? What of your Son?

Be.
Undoes me; your confusion shews it plain.

Ba.
In what confusion am I?

Be.
All your Face
Flames with a blush; your breath goes thick and short.
Your Speech wou'd scarcely falter more in death.

Ba.
Fetch me a Dagger.

(aside.
Be.
I'le remove this Grief.
I'le send for him, and stab him in your fight.

Ba.
Oh! Horror! Horror! Hold! You shall know all.

Be.
Oh! I know all, and will remove it all.
Madam, you very highly injure me.

Ba.
I do not—do not.

Be.
Oh! you do.

Ba.
In what?

Be.
I here invoke the Gods.

Ba.
And so do I.

Be.
Tear out my Heart, if it be false to you?

Ba.
Have you suspicion, I am false to you?

Be.
No Madam, no, but you have entertain'd
Causeless suspicion of my Truth to you.
Not that my humble Heart is worth your Care,
But your own Merit is; you are enrag'd,
Your Royal Birth, and Divine Excellence,
Which may deserve to have more Heavens than one,
Gain not the entire Heart of one poor Slave.
But you are triumph'd over by the Queen.
Because I shew some fondness of her Son.

Ba.
Oh! I am scap'd! Shame and Death threatned me—
(aside.
And then rode by far far out of their way.
He thinks my Grief is jealousie of him.

Be.
Come, Madam, throw the Queen out of your Thoughts,
For I'le assure you she is far from mine.
I never lov'd her in her softest Youth.
Nature indeed had given her charms for Love;
But the embraces of the wanton Wind,
And Suns hot Kisses had debauch'd 'em all.
And they were all the Kisses She endur'd.
She must perform the Office of her Sex,
Or have no Heirs to her Renown and Throne.
So our embrace was but a Bed Cabal.
More for a State, than amorous intrigue.
Love did but little in the whole Affair,
The Gods did all; therefore the gallant Youth
Is like a God, and therefore lov'd by me.
I know you'd love him, if you saw him once,
Which you shall do, and let him kiss your hands.
Run for my Son—

(to Oronte.
Ba.
I will not see his Face.
He's setting his own House all in a flame—
(aside.
When it already burns in smothering fire.

Be.
Oh How disturb'd She is? cou'd I believe
A trouble to thy Hear shou'd delight mine?
This is a mark of love, but th'only one
I do not wish to have.—lay it aside.
And let all three love. I must confess
My Son is a record of my past Love,
But he's so fair a one—
I'm very sure if you beheld him once
You wou'd be loth he shou'd be blotted out.

Ba.
With what a pleasing Dream he is deceiv'd?
'Tis cruelty to waken a sick Friend,
[Aside.
Whose Sleep is all his ease, let him dream on
Nay, I am told your Son, your Son's a gallant Man.
And I am troubled that I cannot give
His Merit, the reception it deserves.

Be.
Why not, my Love? you may, if I consent.

Ba.
I'le not consent to an undecent thing,
And so it is t'encourage vicious Love.
Such was your kindess for the Amazon Queen.

Be.
Thy Virtue is too nice.

Ba.
Nay, I'm content
You love and favour him.

Be.
A thousand Thanks

Ba.
But do not let him come into my sight.

Be.
Well, dearest, you shall see, the Diviue power
You have o'r me, that the least sigh of yours
Can shake the Universe from under me.
My Memnon is to me, a World of Joy,
He offends you, and vanishes for ever.

Ba.
Oh! now I grieve?—

(aside.
Be.
What say you, do you grieve?

Ba.
O'r-heard?—

(aside.
Be.
Oh! this is kind, now he shall go.

Enter Memnon.
Ba.
I see him, Oh? I tremble, burn and faint,
I cannot stay, or go—

(aside.
Be.
See see, I swear.
The very sight of him distempers her.
You shall not see him, love, away, away,
A thousand Thanks for all this tender love.
(Ex. Ba. Or.
Come hither, Memnon, thou wert once my All,
And still thou art a most dear part o' me.
I tell thee this, 'cause I'm to lose thee soon.
And I wou'd make our parting soft to thee
What e're it is to me. I am compell'd
To banish thee for ever from my sight.

Me.
Compell'd to banish me?—Alas, my Lord,
I fear my Loyalty displeases you.
I have heard dreadful news about the King.
Oh! I have wept, and rav'd, and torn my Hair,
And curs'd my Birth, now doubly infamous,
First, by my Mothers sin, and now by yours.

Be.
You know not what you say, I had great aims.
I saw the Kingdom fall.

Me.
Had Heaven fallen,
And you had done your Duty, you had stood.

Be.
'Tis true, I sallied out beyond my bounds
But 'twas to serve the King.

Me.
He serves him best
Who keeps his Post Obedience was yours

Be.
No more o'this; if the King pardons me,
Sure you may do't.

Me.
Oh! is the King so good?
And after that, can you forgive your self?

Be.
Had done!

Me.
I shall—but let me do you first
What Services I can; and set you free
From all Temptations you may have from me.
Perhaps you think a Crown may delight me.
Oh! I wou'd rather have my Head be cleft
In my King's Service, than by Treason Crown'd.
Let but my Sword command the spots of Earth,
On which I fight to Guard his Crown and Life,
And Nobler Fortune I will ne're desire.
The Gods be prais'd, there I have Lordships yet.
And let us all preserve our Loyalty,
Then our true Glory lives, though our Pomp dies,
For that is Vanity; now I have done.
I'le make but one Request, then take my leave.

Be.
What's that?

Me.
To chuse the place of my Exile.

Be.
Where's that?

Me.
In the Fair Arms of one I Love.

Be.
And who is she?

Me.
I know not, wou'd I did.
It was my Fate at the Cilician Streights,
To give her Liberty, and lose my own.

Be.
Didst thou make no enquiry of her Name?

Me.
I found her grac'd with all perfections,
And these I think are Names enow for one.
They took up all my thoughts, and all my time;
Which was not much, for soon we were pursu'd,
I was compell'd to face the Enemy,
I had the honour of the Victory,
But lost the best Reward, the sight of her;
For she was sled away; and from that hour
I saw her not till now.

Be.
Where saw you her?

Me.
Here in this Palace.

Be.
Here? my Wife lives here—
[Aside.
When did you see her?

Me.
Not a minute past.

Be.
Oh! how I tremble? this must be my wife.
[Aside.
Was no one with her?

Me.
Yes, your self, my Lord.

Be.
Infernal horrours!

[Aside.
Me.
Ha! he is disturb'd—

Be.
Oh! he has stab'd me, sleeping in my Bed,
And waken'd me in Hell. Past all dispute
Her secret sorrow is a Love for him.
I've been solliciting for my own shame.
'Tis so!—'tis so!—my Son has whor'd my Wife,
H'as whor'd her in her Soul, and that's enough.
I'le rip him up, and carry her his Heart.
Hold! he is Innocent, and she may be.
Shall I skin o're my Wound, with that may be?
And probe no farther? no 'twill fester then.
Oh! better see her once in the foul Act,
And so conclude my Torment, and her Sin,
Than see her hourly sinning in my thoughts.

Me.
My Lord, I fear, I love not as I shou'd.
For I perceive it discomposes you,
Though you in tenderness conceal my fault.
Pray let me know it, I will freely part
With all the Joys I have, to pleasure you.

Be.
Oh! noble Youth! sure I am safe from him,
[Aside.
But not from my own thoughts; I cannot bear
Thorns in my Bed, if I have torment there
Where shall I rest? no, I must search it well.
No, Son, I only doubt your good success.
Had you any Encouragement?

Me.
I thought I had.

Be.
'Tis done!—th'Adultery's finish'd o' her part.
[Aside.
So is her Life—Memnon—you have my leave
To make this Beauty yours be who she will.

Me.
My Lord, I never can requite this Love,
Because you fight against your self for me,
For I see great contention in your thoughts.

Be.
'Tis over now; go in, you'l find her there.
[Ex. Me.
Oh! Memnon! now I wish thy Vertue strong.
For if you mingle Smiles, you mingle Blood.

As Bessus is stealing after Memnon, Nabarzanes enters.
Na.
My Lord—my Lord—

Be.
Whose that? I'm employ'd.

Na.
I've Business for you that concerns your Life.

Be.
I'm busied in concerns above my Life.

Na.
Well let 'em be of more Concern than Heaven,
You shall abandon 'em, and go with me.
Patron the Greek, has been among our Troops,
Discover'd our designs, and told the King.

Be.
Wou'd Patron were in Hell.

Na.
He shall be worse.
For, head your Troops, he shall be in our Power.

Be.
I'le come immediately.

Na.
Immediately?
What Business have you here, but with your Wife?
Do you prefer a Kiss above a Crown,
And all the Lives and Fortunes of your Freinds?
Then I believe Patron had this from you,
And you have sold us all.

Be.
Who, I?

Na.
Yes, you.
Your Wife, and You, the Cause and the World Sink,
I'le save my self; Farewel.

Be.
Hold—hold—I go—
Oh! you have wrong'd me.

Na.
Shew it in the Field.

Be.
I will, but I shall perish—go or stay.
Stay, and the Hangman's Sword falls on my head.
Go, my Wife's Whor'd—aside—oh! cursed troubled World,
Where nothing without Sorrow can be had,
And 'tis not easy to be Good or Bad.
For Horrour attends Evil—Sorrow Good,
Vice Plagues the Mind, and Vertue Flesh and Blood.

[Ex.