University of Virginia Library

SCENE. I.

An Apartment of the Palace
Enter Memnon and Magas.
Mem.
Those who are wise in Courts, my holy Sir,
Make Friendships with the Ministers of State,
Nor seek the Ruines of a wretched Exile,
Lest there should be Contagion in Misfortunes,
And make the Alliance fatal.

Mag.
Friends like Memnon
Are worth being sought in Danger; since this Age
Of most flagitious Note, degenerates
From the fam'd Vertue of our Ancestors,
And leaves but few Examples of their Excellence,
Whom should we seek for Friendships but those few,
Those happy few, within whose Breasts alone,
The Footsteps of lost Virtue yet remain?

Mem.
I prithee Peace! for nothing misbecomes
The man that would be thought a friend, like flattery;
Flattery! the meanest kind of base dissembling,
And only us'd to catch the grossest fools:
Besides, it stains the honour of thy function,
Which like the Gods thou serv'st, should be sincere.

Mag.
By that sincerity, by all the service
My friendship can express, I would approve it;
And tho I went not from Persepolis
Companion of your Exile, yet my Heart
Was with you still; and what I could I did,
Beseeching every God for your return;
Nor were those Vows in vain, since once again
'Tis given me to behold my friend, nay more,
Would you agree, to keep you here for ever.

Mem.
The Gods, 'tis true, are just, and have, I hope,
At length decreed an end of my misfortunes,
At least they give me this, to dye with honour,
When Life grows vile or burthensome.

Mag.
By me they offer all that you can ask,
And point an easie way to happiness.
Spare then the wounds our wretched Country fears,
The thousand ills which Civil Discord brings.
Oh still that noise of War, whose dread Alarms
Frightens repose from Country Villages,
And stirs rude tumult up and wild distraction
In all our peaceful Cities.

Mem.
Witness for me,
Ye awful Gods, who view our inmost thoughts!
I took not arms, till urg'd by self defence,
The eldest Law of Nature.
Impute not then those ills which may insue
To me, but those who with incessant hate
Pursue my life; whose malice spreads the flame
To every Part, that my devoted fabrick
May in the universal ruine burn.

Mag.
And yet ev'n there perhaps you judge too rashly;
Impetuous Passion hurries you so fast,
You cannot mark the advantage of your fortune.

Mem.
Has not the Law been urg'd to set a brand
Of foul dishonour on my hoary head?
Ha! am I not Proscrib'd?

Mag.
Forget that thought,
That jarring grates your Soul, and turns the Harmony
Of blessed Peace to curst infernal Discord.
Hate and its fatal Causes all shall cease,
And Memnon's Name be honour'd as of old,
The bravest and the most successful Warrior,
The fortunate Defender of his Country.

Mem.
'Tis true, (nor will it seem a Boast to own)
I have fought well for Persia, and repay'd
The Benefit of Birth with honest Service,
Full fifty Years harnest in rugged Steel,
I have endur'd the biting Winters Blast,
And the severer Heats of parching Summer;
While they who loll'd at home on lazy Couches
Amidst a Crew of Harlots and soft Eunuchs,
Were at my Cost secure in Luxury.
This is a Justice Mirza's self must do me.

Mag.
Even he, tho' fatal Accidents have set
A most unhappy Bar between your Friendship,
Lamenting that there had been Cause of Enmity,
And owning all the Merit of your Vertues,
Will often wish Fate had ordain'd you Friends.

Mem.
Our God the Sun shall sooner change his Course,
And all the Impossibilities, which Poets
Count to extravagance of loose Description,
Shall sooner be.

Mag.
Yet hear me, noble Memnon;
When by the Duty of my Priesthood mov'd,
And in just Detestation of the Mischiefs
Intestine Jars produce, I urg'd wise Mirza,
By his Concurrence, Help, and healing Counsels,
To stop those Wounds at which his Country bleeds;
Griev'd at the Thought, he vow'd, his whole Endeavour
Should be to close those Breaches:
That even Cleander's Death, and all those Quarrels
That long have nourisht Hatred in your Houses,
Should be in Joy of publick Peace forgotten.

Mem.
Oh couldst thou charm the Malice of a Statesman,
And make him quit his Purpose of Revenge,
Thy preaching might reform the guilty World,
And Vice would be no more.

Mag.
Nay, ev'n the Queen
Will bind the Confirmation by her Son,
And asks the fair Amestris for Prince Artaban.

Mem.
Were that the only Terms, it were impossible.

Mag.
You would not shun the Alliance of a Prince?

Mem.
No; for it is the Glory of my Fate,
That Artaxerxes is design'd my Son,
With every Grace and Royal Vertue crown'd;
Great, just and merciful, such as Mankind,
(When, in the Infant World, first Governments
Began by chance) would have design'd a King.

Mag.
Unbounded Power, and height of Greatness, give
To Kings that Lustre, which we think divine;
The Wise who know 'em, know they are but Men,
Nay, sometimes weak ones too; the Crowd indeed,
Who kneel before the Image, not the God,
Worship the Deity their Hands have made.
The Name of Artaban will be as great
As that of Cyrus, when he shall possess
(As sure he shall) his Throne.

Mem.
Ha! What means he!
This Villain Priest! but hold my Rage a little,
And learn Dissimulation; I'll try him farther.
[Aside.
You talk in Riddles, when you name a Throne,
And Artaban; the Gods, who portion out
The Lots of Princes as of private Men,
Have put a Bar between his Hopes and Empire.

Mag.
What Bar?

Mem.
The best, an Elder Brother's Claim.

Mag.
That's easily remov'd, the King their Father
On just and weighty Reasons has decreed
His Scepter to the younger; add to this,
The joint Concurrence of our Persian Lords,
Who only want your Voice to make it firm.

Mem.
Can I? Can they? Can any honest Hand,
Join in an Act like this? Is not the Elder
By Nature pointed out for Preference?
Is not his Right inroll'd amongst those Laws
Which keep the World's vast Frame in beauteous Order?
Ask those thou namest but now, what made them Lords?
What Titles had they had, if Merit only
Could have conferr'd a Right? if Nature had not
Strove hard to thrust the worst deserving first,
And stampt the noble Mark of Eldership
Upon their baser Mettal?

Mag.
Sure there may be
Reasons, of so much Power and cogent Force,
As may even set aside this Right of Birth;
If Sons have Rights, yet Fathers have 'em too.
'Twere an invidious Task to enter into
The Insolence, and other Faults, which mov'd.
Royal Arsaces, to a just Displeasure
Against his Eldest Son Prince Artaxerxes.

Mem.
Ha! dare not for thy Life, I charge thee dare not
To brand the spotless Virtue of my Prince
With falshoods of most base and damn'd contrivance.
I tell thee, envious Priest, should the just Gods
Require severe Account of thy past Life,
And charge remembrance to dispose thy Crimes,
In rank and hideous Order to thy View,
Horror and Guilt of Soul would make thee mad.

Mag.
You take the matter farther than I meant it;
My Friendship only aims at your Advantage,
Would point you out a way to Peace and Honour,
And in return of this, your Rage unkindly
Loads me with Injuries.

Mem.
Away! I cannot bear thy base dissembling,
My honest Soul disdains thee and thy Friendship.
How hast thou dar'd to think so vilely of me;
That I would condescend to thy mean Arts,
And traffick with thee for a Princes Ruin;
A Prince! the Joy and Honour of Mankind,
As much superiour to the rest of Kings,
As they themselves are above common Men,
And is the very Image of the Gods,
Wer't thou not priviledg'd, like Age and Women,
My Sword should reach thee, and revenge the Wrong
Thy Tongue has done his Fame.

Mag.
Ungrateful Lord!
Would'st thou invade my Life, as a return
For proffer'd Love? But let th'event declare
How great a good by me sincerely offer'd,
Thy dull Romantick Honour has refus'd.
And since I have discharg'd the Debt I ow'd
To former Friendship, if the Gods hereafter
Send Ruin down, and plague thee with Confusion,
Remember me in vain, and curse thy Folly.

[Ex. Mag.
Mem.
No, my Remembrance treasures honest Thoughts,
And holds not things like thee; I scorn thy Friendship;
And would not owe my Life to such a Villain;
But thou art hardly Saint enough to prophecy.
Were all thy Tribe like thee, it might well startle
Our Lay unlearned Faith, when thro'such Hands
The Knowledge of the Gods is reach'd to Man.
But thus those Gods instruct us, that not all
(Who like Intruders thrust into their Service,
And turn the Holy Office to a Trade,)
Participate their sacred Influence.
This then is your own Cause, ye awful Powers,
Revenge your selves, your violated Altars,
That those who with unhallow'd Hands approach,
May tremble at your Justice.

[Ex. Memnon.