University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Mirza's Palace.
Enter Cleone in Man's Habit, with a dark Lanthorn, Beliza following.
Cleo.
Ye gentler Powers who View our Cares with Pity,
Lend your Compassion to the poor Amestris;
Oh my Beliza, was not thy Soul wounded,
To hear, (when now we past by her Apartment)
The piercing Accents of her loud Complainings?
By Heaven my aching Heart bleeds for her Sufferings.

Bel.
'Tis sure she feels the bittererest Pangs of Woe,
And were not all my Thoughts to you devoted,
Her Grief would deeply sink into my Soul;
Why will you tempt alone Ten thousand Dangers?
Your Father's and the furious Queen's Resentments?
The Cruel Guards? And all those fatal Accidents,
Which in the Horror of this Dreadful Night
Might shake the Resolution of a Man?

Cleo.
Prithee no more; thou know'st I am resolv'd,
And all thy kind Advice is urg'd in vain.
Thy fond mistaking Fears present the Danger
More dreadful than it is; this Master-key
Admits me thro' that Passage to the Temple,
By which the Guards who seiz'd the unhappy Prince
This Morning enter'd; that of all the rest
Is only left unguarded, and from thence
Assisted by the friendly Vail of Night,
We may Conduct him thro' my Father's Palace
In safety to the Street; there undistinguish'd
Amongst the busy discontented Croud,
That swarm in murmuring Heaps he may retire;
Nor shall my Father or the Queen e're know
The Pious Fraud my Love was guilty of.

Bel.
Yet still I fear—

Cleo.
No more! Retire and leave me,
My drooping Heart sits lighter than it's wont,
And chearfully presages good Success.

Bel.
Where shall I wait you?

Cleo.
At my own Apartment.

Bel.
The Mighty Gods Protect you.

Cleo.
Softly! Retire;
[Exit Beliza.
What Noise was that?—The Creature of my Fears.
In vain, fond Maid, would'st thou bely thy Sex,
Thy Coward Soul confesses thee a Woman,
A foolish, rash, fond Woman. Where am I going?
To save my Godlike Hero! Oh my Heart!
It pants and trembles; sure 'tis Joy not Fear;
The Thought has given me Courage; I shall save him,
That Darling of my Eyes. What if I fail?
Then Death is in my Reach and ends my Sorrows.
[Shewing a Dagger.
Why do'st thou shake, my Hand? And fear to grasp
This Instrument of Fate? If I succeed,
Yet Artaxerxes will not live for me;
And my Despair will want thy friendly Aid.
Death ev'ry way shuts up my gloomy Prospect.
If then there be that Lethe and Elisium
Which Priests and Poets tell, to that dark Stream
My Soul of Life impatient shall make hast.
One healing Draught my Quiet shall Restore,
And Love forgotten ne're disturb me more.

[Ex. Cleone.