University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Queen's Apartment.
Astarbe.
How expectation can prolong an hour,
And make it seem a day! a tedious day!
What not yet come! the wonted hour is past.
In vain I turn my eye from walk to walk,
Sophernes is not there.—Here, every morn
I watch his pensive steps along the garden,
And gaze and wish till I am lost in love!
What not yet come! But hark! methinks I hear
The sound of feet! How my heart pants and flutters!
No. 'Twas the wind that shook yon cypress boughs.
Where are my views of wealth, of power, of State?
[Rises.
They're blotted from my mind. I've lost ambition.
O love, thou hast me all. My dreams, my thoughts,
My every wish is center'd in Sophernes.
Hence, Shame, thou rigid tyrant of our sex,
I throw thee off—and I'll avow my passion.

Doraspe.
I can bear to think no longer.

[Sits again.

SCENE II.

Doraspe. Astarbe.
Dor.
Why sits the Queen thus overcast with thought?
Is Majesty all plac'd in outward pomp?
Is it a Queen, to have superior cares?
And to excell in sorrows and distresses?
'Tis in your power to have superior pleasures,
And feel your self a Queen.

Ast.
This mighty empire
I know I do command, and him that rules it.
That was a pleasure once, but now 'tis past!
To you alone I have disclos'd my heart.
I know you faithful.

Dor.
What avails my service?
Can I redress you? can I calm your mind?

Ast.
Thou know'st, Doraspe, amidst all this power,
That I'm a slave, the very worst of slaves.
The yoke of bondage, and the dungeon's horrors
Are easy suff'rings, if compar'd with mine.
I am confin'd to dwell with one I hate,
Confin'd for life to suffer nauseous love,
Like a poor mercenary prostitute.
His fondness is my torture.

Dor.
Love is a pleasure for inferior minds.
Your lot is rais'd above that vulgar passion.
Ambition is the pleasure of the great,
That fills the heart, and leaves no room for love.
Think you're a Queen, enjoy your pomp, your power,
Love is the paradise of simple shepherds.
You hold a sceptre.

Ast.
O insipid greatness!
She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
All other views are artificial pleasures
For sluggish minds incapable of love.
My soul is form'd for this sublimer passion:
My heart is temper'd for the real joy;
I sigh, I pant, I burn, I'm sick of love!
Yes, Media, I renounce thy purple honours.
[Rises.
Farewell the pomp, the pageantry of state,
Farewell ambition, and the lust of empire;
I've now no passion, no desire but love.
O may my eyes have power!—I ask no more.
Where stays Sophernes? Were he now before me,
My tongue should own what oft my eyes have spoke,
For love has humbled pride.—Why this intrusion?
Who call'd you here a witness to my frailties?
Away and leave me.

Dor.
I obey my Queen.

Ast.
Doraspe, stay. Excuse this start of passion,
My mind is torn with wishes, doubts and fears;
I had forgot myself.—Should fortune frown,
And tear the diadem from off my brow,
Couldst thou be follower of my adverse fortune?
I think thou couldst.

Dor.
If I might give that proof,
Without your sufferings, I could wish the tryal;
So firm I know my heart.

Ast.
Life, like the seasons,
Is intermix'd with sun-shine days and tempests.
Prosperity has many thousand friends;
They swarm around us in our summer hours,
But vanish in the storm.

Dor.
What means my Queen,
To wound her faithful servant with suspicion?

Ast.
Whene'er my mind is vex'd and torn with troubles,
In thee I always find the balm of counsell:
And can I then mistrust thee? No, Doraspe,
Suspicion ne'er with-held a thought from thee,
Thou know'st the close recesses of my heart:
And now, ev'n now I fly to thee for comfort.

Dor.
How my soul longs to learn the Queen's commands!

Ast.
When conquest over-power'd my father's legions,
We were made captives of the war together;
Phraortes saw me, rais'd me to his throne,
Heav'n knows with what reluctance I consented!
For my heart loath'd him. But O curs'd ambition!
I gave my self a victim to his love,
To be a Queen, the outside of a Queen.
I then was, what I'm now, a wretch at heart!
Whene'er I was condemn'd to hours of dalliance,
All Media's gems lay glitt'ring at my feet,
To buy a smile, and bribe me to compliance.
But what's ambition, glory, riches, empire?
The wish of misers, and old doating courtiers;
My heart is fill'd with love.—Go, my Doraspe,
Enquire the cause that has detain'd Sophernes
From his accustom'd walk.—I'm fix'd, determin'd,
To give up all for love.—A life of love.
With what impatience shall I wait thy coming!

Dor.
Happy Sophernes!

Ast.
If you chance to meet him,
Talk of me to him, watch his words, his eyes;
Let all you say be turn'd to wake desire;
Prepare him for the happy interview,
For my heart bursts, and I must tell it all.
To what an abject state am I reduc'd?
To proffer love! Was beauty given for this?
Yes. 'Tis more gen'rous; and I'll freely give
What kneeling monarchs had implor'd in vain.

Dor.
This well rewards him for an empire lost.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

Astarbe.
Have I not caught the eyes of wondring nations,
While warm desire has glow'd on ev'ry cheek,
Ev'n when I wore the pride of majesty?
When opportunity awakes desire,
Can he then gaze, insensible of beauty?
When ardent wishes speak in ev'ry glance,
When love and shame by turns in their full force,
Now pale, now red, possess my guilty cheek,
When heaving breasts, and sighs, and kindling blushes
Give the most strong assurance of consent
In the convincing eloquence of love;
Will he then want a proof that's less sincere?
And must I speak?—O love, direct my lips,
And give me courage in that hour of shame!

SCENE IV.

Astarbe. Doraspe.
Dor.
May the Queen never know a moment's sorrow,
Nor let my words offend!—the Prince Sophernes,
Leagu'd with a crew of daring desperate men,
Had meditated to destroy Phraortes,
And let loose war and rapine o'er the land.
But Heav'n has made their machinations vain;
And they now groan in dungeons.

Ast.
Then I'm wretched,
And ev'ry pleasing view of life is lost.
Was it confirm'd? or was it only rumour?

Dor.
Araxes said Sophernes was his prisoner.
My haste would not allow me further question:
And this is all I learnt.

Ast.
Have I not power?
I have. Why then, I'll give Sophernes freedom,
I'll give him life.—I think you nam'd Araxes;
That man to me owes all his growth of fortune;
And if I judge him right, he's very grateful.
Tell him the Queen admits him to her presence.
[Ex. Dor.
O Heaven! I thank thee for this blest occasion.
Did ever proof of fondness equal mine?
And so sure so strong a proof must find return.
With what excess of transport shall I go
To lead him forth from heavy chains and darkness
To liberty and love!—But see, Araxes.

SCENE V.

Astarbe. Doraspe. Araxes.
Ara.
All health attend the mighty Queen of Media.

Ast.
I'm told, Araxes, that the Persian Prince
Hath join'd in horrid league, and hath conspir'd
The murther of my lord and king Phraortes.
Speak forth; say, what thou know'st.

Ara.
The hand of heaven
Protects the King; and all the black design
Is shown in open daylight. The foul traitor
Is taken in the snares of death he laid.
Sophernes is my charge. O base ingratitude,
That he, whom the King honour'd next himself,
That he, whom the King's mercy spar'd in battle,
Should mix with vile assassins! Justice longs
To punish the vast crime.

Ast.
Owns he the guilt?

Ara.
No. With the calmest face of innocence,
With looks known only to hypocrisy,
He solemnly deny'd it.

Ast.
Is he confin'd?

Ara.
Yes, with the strictest guard and heaviest irons.
The prison joining to the Queen's apartment
Lodges the horrid crew in sep'rate dungeons.
To-day the King will mount the judgment-seat,
And death shall be their portion.

Ast.
Is Sophernes
Stubborn and sullen? made he no confession?
I often have convers'd with that vile man,
That hypocrite, whose talk was always honest.
How have I been deceiv'd!—Yet, ere his sentence,
With secresy I fain once more would see him.

Ara.
I'm happy to obey my Queen's commands,
His prison lies so close to these apartments,
That unobserv'd I can conduct him hither.

Ast.
I know thee faithfull, and such ready zeal
Shall always find reward.

Ara.
The Queen is gracious.

SCENE VI.

Astarbe. Doraspe.
Ast.
Now my design is ripe for execution.
Then let Doraspe well consult her heart,
If she will share with me all change of fortune.

Dor.
Doubt not your faithfull servant. I'm prepar'd.
I know, however heinous is his crime,
Your intercession always must prevail.
His gratitude will kindle into love,
And in possession every wish be lost.

Ast.
How little thou hast div'd into my thoughts!
My purposes are otherways determin'd.
I'll shake off bondage, and abandon empire;
For him disrobe my self of majesty;
Then to my native Parthia will I fly
With all my soul holds dear—my guide Sophernes.

Dor.
Let me not find my gracious Queen's displeasure
If I dissent, and offer other counsel.
Why will you quit your crown? why fly from Media?
Does jealousy restrain your liberty?
Your love, your empire, both are in your power.

Ast.
Mine's not the common passion of our sex,
Which ev'ry day we can command at pleasure,
And shift and vary as occasion offers.
My love is real and unchangeable,
Controuls my heart, and governs absolute.
My eyes, words, actions, are no more my own:
My ev'ry thought's Sophernes.—Other women,
Who have the power to practise little arts
To cheat a husband, and delude his fondness,
Ne'er knew the burning passion that I feel.
Those are the trifling wanton airs of women,
All vanity, and only love in name.
No. She who loves, must give up all her self;
She ne'er can be content with a stol'n minute,
Then pass whole days and nights with him she hates.
Advise no further—for I am determin'd.

Dor.
Araxes, with the Persian Prince!

Ast.
Retire.

SCENE VII.

Astarbe
. Araxes. Sophernes.
[Ara. takes off the Chains.

SCENE VIII.

Astarbe
. Sophernes.
Be not surpriz'd that I have call'd you hither,
Most noble Prince, in this your hour of trouble;
For I ev'n bear a part in your misfortunes.
Who's your accuser?—whence those shameful chains?

Soph.
I'm charg'd with crimes of the most heinous nature.
If 'tis Heav'n's will to try me with afflictions,
I will not, like a dastard, sink beneath them,
But resolutely strive to stem the torrent.
Not the dark dungeon, nor the sharpest torture
Can ruffle the sweet calm of innocence.
My chains are grievous, but my conscience free.

Ast.
I long have mark'd your virtues and admir'd them.
Against a resolute and steady mind
The tempest of affliction beats in vain.
When we behold the hero's manly patience
We feel his suff'rings, and my tears have own'd
That what you bore with courage touch'd my heart.
And when compassion once has reach'd the mind,
It spurs us on to charity and kindness.
Instruct me then which way to cure your sorrows.

Soph.
The Queen is gracious and delights in mercy.

Ast.
I speak with the sincerity of friendship.
Friendship is free and open, and requires not
Such distant homage and respectful duty.
Forget that I'm a Queen: I have forgot it;
And all my thoughts are fixt on thy relief.
Draw near me then, and as from friend to friend,
Let us discharge our hearts of all their cares.

Soph.
How beautiful a virtue is compassion!
It gives new grace to every charm of woman!
When lovely features hide a tender soul,
She looks, she speaks, all harmony divine.

Ast.
Tell me, Sophernes, does not slav'ry's yoke
Gall more and more through ev'ry pace of life?
I am a slave, like you. And though a Queen
Possest of all the richest gems of Media,
I know no pleasure; this distasteful thought
Imbitters all my hours; the royal bed
Is loathsome, and a stranger to delight.
I'm made the drudge to serve another's pleasure.
O when shall I be free! take, take your empire,
And give me peace and liberty again.

Soph.
The strokes of fortune must be born with patience.

Ast.
But I have lost all patience.—Give me counsel,
Give me thy friendship, and assist a wretch
Who thirsts and pants for freedom.

Soph.
Who seeks succour
From one whose hands are bound in double irons?
I am a slave, and captive of the war,
Accus'd of treason and ingratitude,
And must from hence go back to chains and darkness,
But had I power, such beauty might command it.

Ast.
But I have power, and all my power is thine,
If I had arm'd my self with resolution
To quit the pompous load of majesty,
To fly far off from this detested empire,
To seek repose within my native land,
Wouldst thou then be companion of my flight,
And share in my distresses and my fortune?

Soph.
The Queen intends to try a wretched man
Whether he'd break all hospitable laws,
The strictest oaths and tyes of gratitude,
To sacrifice his honour to such beauty
That can command all hearts.

Ast.
Tell me directly,
Wouldst thou accept of freedom on these terms?

Soph.
How shall I answer?

Ast.
Is thy heart of ice?
Or are my features so contemptible
That thou disdain'st to fix thy eyes upon me?
Can you receive this offer with such coldness?
I make it from my heart; my warm heart speaks:
Distrust me not. What, not a word! no answer!

Soph.
O may the Queen excuse her prostrate servant,
And urge no more a tryal too severe.

Ast.
What means Sophernes? Why this abject posture?
'Tis I should kneel; 'tis I that want compassion.
[Gives him her hand.
Thou art unpractis'd in the ways of women,
To judge that I could trifle on this subject.
Think how severe a conflict I have conquer'd,
To over-rule ev'n nature and my sex,
Think what confusion rises in my face
To ask what (to be ask'd) would kindle blushes
In ev'ry modest cheek!—where's shame? where's pride?
Sophernes has subdu'd them. Women, I own,
Are vers'd in little frauds, and sly dissemblings:
But can we rule the motions of the blood?
These eyes,—this pulse—these tremblings—this confusion
Make truth conspicuous, and disclose the soul.
Think not I fly with man for his protection;
For only you I could renounce a kingdom,
For you, ev'n in the wild and barren desart
Forget I was a Queen; ev'n then more happy
Than seated on a throne. Say, wilt thou chuse
Or liberty, and life, and poor Astarbe,
Or dungeons, chains, and ignominious death!

Soph.
O how I struggle in the snares of beauty!
Those eyes could warm pale elders to desire,
I feel them at my heart; the feaver rages,
And if I gaze again—how shall I answer!

Ast.
How is my pride brought low! how vilely treated!
The worst of scorn is cold deliberation.

Soph.
Cylene may be found. What, take me from her!
How can I go and leave my hopes for ever?
Can I renounce my love, my faith, my all?
Who can resist those eyes?—I go—I'm lost!
Cylene holds me back, and curbs desire.

[Aside.
Ast.
Resolve and answer me. For soon as night
Favours our flight I'll gather up my treasures.
Prepare thee then, lest death should intercept thee,
And murder all my quiet.

Soph.
If in her sight
I've favour found, the Queen will hear me speak.
How can my heart refuse her? how obey her?
Can I deny such generous clemency?
Join'd with all beauties ever found in woman?
Yet think on my unhappy circumstance.
I've giv'n my word, the strictest tye of honour,
Never to pass beyond my bounds prescrib'd;
And shall I break my faith? Who holds society
With one who's branded with that infamy?
Did not Phraortes in the heat of battle
Stay the keen sword that o'er me menac'd death?
Do not I share his palace, and his friendship?
Does he not strive by daily curtesies
To banish all the bitter cares of bondage?
And shall I seise and tear his tendrest heart-string?
Shall I conspire to rob him of all peace?
For on the Queen hangs ev'ry earthly joy,
His ev'ry pleasure is compriz'd in you!
What virtue can resist such strong temptation?
O raise not thus a tempest in my bosom!
What shall I do?—my soul abhors ingratitude.
Should I consent, you must detest and loath me,
And I should well deserve those chains and death.

Ast.
Is this thy best return for proffer'd love?
Such coldness, such indifference, such contempt!
Rise, all ye Furies, from th'infernal regions,
And prompt me to some great, some glorious vengeance!
Vengeance is in my power, and I'll enjoy it.
But majesty perhaps might awe his passion,
And fear forbid him to reveal his wishes.
That could not be. I heard, I saw him scorn me;
All his disdainful words his eyes confirm'd.
Ungrateful man! Hence, traytor, from my sight.
Revenge be ready. Slighted love invokes thee.
Of all the injuries that rack the soul,
Mine is most exquisite! Hence, to thy dungeon.
Araxes!

SCENE VIII.

Astarbe
. Sophernes. Araxes.
[Ara. puts on his Irons.

SCENE IX.

Astarbe. Doraspe.
Dor.
What's the Queen's pleasure? See your servant ready.
Why are your eyes thus fixt upon the ground?
Why that deep sigh? and why these trembling lips?
This sudden paleness, and these starts of frenzy?
You're sick at heart.

Ast.
Yes; I will be reveng'd.

Dor.
Lift up your eyes, and know me. 'Tis Doraspe.

Ast.
Look on me, tell me, is my beauty blighted?
And shrunk at once into deformity?
Slighted! despis'd! my charms all set at nought!
Yes. I will be reveng'd.—O my Doraspe,
I've met with foul contempt, and cold disdain:
And shall the wretch who gave me guilt and shame,
The wretch who's conscious of my infamy,
Out-live that crime? he must not, nay, he shall not.

Dor.
Let reason mitigate and quell this feaver;
The safest, surest, is the cool revenge.
Rash anger, like the hasty scorpion's fury,
Torments and wounds it self.

Ast.
It is in vain.
The torrent rushes on; it swells, ferments,
And strongly bears away all opposition.
What means that hurry in the antichamber?
What are those crowds?

Dor.
The King intends to mount the judgment-seat,
And the conspirators now wait their sentence.

Ast.
Go tell Araxes (if with privacy
He could conduct him) I would see their chief;
The desp'rate instrument of this bold scheme;
This instant; ere he stands before the Presence.

SCENE X.

Astarbe.
Revenge, I thank thee for this ready thought
Death now shall reach Sophernes, shamefull death;
Thus will I satiate love. His death alone
Can raze him from my heart, and give me peace.

SCENE XI.

Araxes conducts in Hydarnes, and retires.
Astarbe
. Hydarnes.
The King is gracious, and delights in mercy;
And know that free confession merits life:
I'll intercede. Know you the Prince Sophernes?
You are unhappy men betray'd to ruin:
And will ye suffer for another's crime?
Speak of him, as ye ought; 'twas he betray'd you.

Hyd.
If racks and tortures cannot tear confession
From innocence, shall woman's flattery do it?
No; my heart's firm, and I can smile on death.

Ast.
Think not to hide what is already known.
'Tis to Sophernes that you owe those chains,
We've fathom'd his designs, they're all laid open;
We know him turbulent and enterprizing.
By the foul murder of my lord the King,
He meant to set his captive nation free.
Unfold this truth, and I'll insure thy pardon.

Hyd.
What! lead a hateful life of ignominy!
And live the bane of all society!
Shun'd like a pestilence, a curst informer;
Yet since the fate of kingdoms may depend
On what I speak; truth shall direct my lips.
The Queen has offer'd grace. I know the terms.

Ast.
By the King's life, I swear.

SCENE XII.

Astarbe. Hydarnes. Araxes.
Ara.
Excuse this entrance,
The pris'ner must attend.

Ast.
I'm satisfy'd.
This man seems open, and may be of service.

SCENE XIII.

Astarbe.
How my heart bleeds thus to pursue revenge
Against the man I love! But me he scorns;
And from my beauty turns his head away
With saucy arrogance and proud contempt.
I could forgive him ev'ry other crime,
Ev'n the base murder of my dearest friend;
But slighted love no woman can forgive.
For thro' our life we feel the bitter smart,
And guilt and shame lye festring at the heart.