University of Virginia Library

Scena prima.

The Scene drawn, Otanes, Darius, and Artaban appear bound and Chain'd in a dark Prison.
Otan.
Prexaspes ! Oh, tame easie Faiths, that we
Could trust that salvage Scythian's Loyalty;
A Monster worse than Africk ever bred:
Whose Breast, like Deserts, is inhabited
By nought but Poysons.

Dar.
Your mistake does seem
Rather a gallant Virtue, than a Crime.
For in great Minds this gen'rous instinct Rules:
They by their own Copy all others souls;
Acting like those diseases, where the eye
In its own colours does all objects dye.

Enter Prexaspes.
Prex.
My Lords, the King is gracious, and hath sent
To try how you can brook Imprisonment.

Otan.
Imprisonment we think our greatest bliss:
There we can see neither thy Crimes, nor His.

Prex.
Am I by those that wear my Chains contemn'd?
I thank ye, Sirs, ye have your selves condemn'd.
Guards, there within.

Dar.
—Yes, Traytor, thou shalt see
That we despise our Deaths as much as thee.

Enter Guards, and Executioner.
Otan.
Must we not know the cause for which we fall?

Prex.
The cause! ha ha—Yes, Sir, you shall.
It is Prexaspes's pleasure you should dye.

Dar.
Is this the Justice of your Cruelty?

Prex.
Justice! Justice is but the breath of pow'r,
When ev'ry rising King, and Conquerour
Does make that Justice, which his Pow'r makes Laws:
My Pow'r proclaims the Justice of my Cause.
And in your deaths my pleasure I fulfill;
'Tis just you dye—to satisfie my will.

Otan.
Is then your thirst of blood the onely cause?

Prex.
These idle interruptions make a pause
Onely to give you breath: for dye you must:
And it is just you dye—because 'tis just.

Artab.
And is this all?

Prex.
—I can some reasons show.
You're Traytors to your King and Countrey too.
You, Sir, have twice attempted to set fire
On Susa. You, Darius, did conspire
To seize the Palace and the Treasury.
You, Otanes, have sworn Confed'racy
With Persia's Enemy the Scythian King.
All these, and other Treasons I could bring—
But you shall dye; then to the World they all
Shall publisht be to justifie your fall.

Otan.
Blasphemous Lyar!

Artab.
Is not our Murders which you have decreed
Sufficient, but our honours too must bleed?

Prex.
Your Lives and Honours must no longer shine:
But be extinguisht to make way for mine.
Smerdis must be depos'd by me alone,
And then Prexaspes steps into his Throne.
That my ambition may arrive to this,
First, I'le take off your Heads: then strike at His.

Otan.
Though Smerdis be he whom I most do hate;
Could I but beg one dayes reprieve of Fate,
I'de be the first should thy designs betray.

Prex.
Ay, Sir, so in the other World you may.
These will be pretty stories for the dead:
And for that end you first shall lose your Head.
Strike him.
[The Executioner bows down his Scymitar in sign of denial.
What, disobey'd? Or is it blood you fear?
[To the Executioner.
Since my design wants an Interpreter,
And your tame soul can't construe my intent,
Slave, thou shalt dye, to trye th'experiment.
To you, my Lords, this Honour I'le afford,
To fall by me, and this Almighty Sword.
[Draws his Scymitar.
Stand fair.—Stay, one thing I forgot; I'm told
You leagues of Friendship with Theramnes hold.
[Darius hearing Theramnes's Name, sighs.
A sigh I know to such a Friend is due:
But be not troubled, he shall follow you.
Friends must not part. I'de thoughts t'have had him here,
And for your sakes and mine, I wish he were,
That he might see this Arm.

Advances to strike off Otanes's head, at which the Executioner undisguises himself, and appears to be Theramnes; at which the Guards seize Prexaspes, & disarm him, and unbind Otanes, Darius, and Artaban, and restore their Swords, and bind Prexaspes.
Ther.
Thou hast thy wish.
He sees that Arm, and so shalt thou feel his.

Prex.
Traytors, unhand me; slaves, what, do you know
Who 'tis you should obey?

Ther.
—Yes, Sir, they do.
And so shall you know too.
Your Guards are mine,
And your life, Traytor.

Prex.
Curse on your design.
And curst be all the Stars that rul'd this day;
That could, or durst Prexaspes's life betray.
Am I at once of all my hopes depriv'd?

Ther.
Your greatness grew too fast to be long-liv'd.

Dar.
Theramnes living! and preserv'd to be
The Author of our Lives and Liberty!
What sudden change does all my thoughts surprize?
Or dare I trust the witness of my eyes?
How stiff I am, and undispos'd to move,
These pleasant charms unwilling to disprove.
Like him who Heav'n in a soft dream enjoys:
To stir and wake his Paradise destroys.

Otan.
As Ship-wrackt men who on some shoar are cast,
Look back upon the dangers they have past.
Their horror so much of the wrack retains,
They scarcely know their safety, nor the means.
This miracle of Honour done by you,
Kind Sir, obliges, and confounds us too.
The explication we from you must know.

Ther.
To Love and Friendship you your safeties owe.
Theramnes could not see him fall—nor I
[Points to Darius.
Could live to see Orinda's Father dye.
Hearing that you in Prison were detain'd,
By my Usurper, by Prexaspes's Hand:
His black intentions rouz'd my soul, alarm'd
My sleeping spirits, and my courage arm'd.
I was resolv'd in spight of Fortunes hate,
Either to follow, or prevent your Fate.
But being from all other means debarr'd,
My onely means was left to win the Guard.
Which their old General with ease did sway:
They had not quite forgot whom to obey.
'Twas by their help I am so happy grown,
To save your Lives, on which depends my own.

Dar.
The greatest wrack my wond'ring soul endures,
Is how you have preserv'd your Life, not ours.

Ther.
Know then, when you did of my Life despair,
And left me to brave Megabyses's care;
That fam'd Physitian, whose great skill can prop
Mens sinking Frames, and Humane ruines stop;
His Art the pow'r of Destiny controuls,
Gives Laws to Nature, and Reprieves to souls.
When he had by his subtle knowledge found,
My parting Life still struggled in my wound:
Then what strange skill, what unknown Arts he us'd,
What pow'rful balms he to my wounds infus'd;
(Great Miracles are still great Mysteries)
That were too hard to tell; let it suffice,
He forc'd my flying soul to a retreat:
And re-inforc'd my senses in their seat.
But then hearing your dangers, I prevail'd,
T'have my death publisht, and my Cure conceal'd.
Till in your Service I a proof could give,
I had done something to deserve to live.

Dar.
You do too much my burden'd soul o'recharge,
For to bear this I must my soul enlarge.
My joys are but too weighty for my heart.

Artab.
To make 'em lighter let us bear a part.

Dar.
No, Sir, this is so great a happiness,
Dividing of it cannot make it less.
Brave Friend.

[Embraces Theramnes.
Otan.
But now I have a cause affords
A Nobler Subject for all Loyal Swords.

Ther.
Name it; for what cannot Theramnes do,
When he's imploy'd for Loyalty, and You?

Otan.
'Tis, the deposing Smerdis.

Ther.
—How, betray
Him who the Scepter, and my Sword does sway!

Otan.
What, an Impostor?

Ther.
—Hold, this must not be,
Can you forget what's due to Majesty.
Were't not from you—Do not abuse your Friend:
He is my King, and him I must defend.

Dar.
He whom you serve that borrow'd Title wears,
Shame to a Throne and to the Name he bears.
Alas, that Traytor the true Smerdis slew.

[Points to Prex.
Prex.
Ay, and intended the same Fate for you.

Ther.
And, what is an Impostor then maintain'd
To wear a Crown, and by my guilty hand?
A base low Traytor too: and could my Sword
A Sanctuary to his Crimes afford?
But, Sir, can you forgive me this offence?

Otan.
Your Sword can your Sword's errours recompense.

Ther.
Once more the Executioner's my part:
My Sword shall now do Justice on his heart.
To right my wrongs I in your cause will joyn.

Otan.
We cannot fail in such a brave design.

Dar.
But for this Action we must be prepar'd
To strike like Thunder, e're the blow be heard.

Otan.
But e're I go, I must his sentence give:
Traytor, thy punishment shall be to live.
[To Prex.
Thou in this Prison, and these Chains shalt lye;
I love you not so well, to let you dye.

[Exeunt all but Prexaspes.
Prex.
Curses pursue Theramnes. All is gone.
I'm faln into a Prison from a Throne.
And, what's the worst of miseries, I still
Keep the desire, though not the pow'r to kill.
I should not wish my ruine to recall,
Had I but sunk an Empire in my fall:
And made all Persia in my ruine share:
That when Posterity my deeds should hear,
It should such horror from my name contract,
Trembling to hear what I made sport to Act.
But now must calmly dye. Had I but first
Like Earthquakes through the trembling World disperst,
Shook Natures frames, and all Mankind o'rethrown,
I then could dye—not to survive alone.
But now must tamely perish.—Well, I see
The gods themselves act by State-policy.
They therefore spightfully my Fate decreed:
'Cause if my rising glories did proceed,
They knew my pow'r to that vast height would sway,
Prexaspes would have grown more fear'd, than they.

[The Scene shuts upon him.