University of Virginia Library

[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.