University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Artaban followed by the conspirators, Megabyzus.
Artab.
My son, Arbaces! Whither art thou gone?
He surely hears my voice—Arbaces—Heavens!
Where lurks he? While I seek my son, my friends,
The care be yours to keep this pass secure.

[enters betwixt the scenes, on the right hand.
Mega.
And wherefore do we loiter still?
[to the conspirators.
The time
Now calls us forth—But where is Artaban?
Where is Arbaces? Wherefore this inaction?
In such an enterprize is this a season
For cold neglect?—What ho! Lord Artaban.

[enters betwixt the scenes, on the left hand.
Artab.
Unhappy me!
[coming out a different way.
My son, my son is lost!
A deadly coldness freezes at my heart:
I fear, I doubt—yet there perhaps conceal'd,
I yet may find—Ha! Megabyzus here!

[meets Megabyzus.
Mega.
What Artaban!

Artab.
Say, hast thou found my son?

Mega.
Hast thou not seen him then?

Artab.
O Heaven! my doubts
Still more and more increase.

Mega.
Explain yourself;
What has befallen Arbaces?

Artab.
Who, alas!
Can now inform me of him? I'm distracted
Amidst a thousand cares and dread suspicions.
How many fatal images has fear
Rais'd in my tortur'd breast! Who knows his fate!
Who knows if yet he lives?

Mega.
Too soon you drive
Suspicions to extremes; may not Mandane
Or Artaxerxes, urg'd by love or friendship,
Have set the prisoner free? Behold the way
That to the palace leads.

Artab.
But wherefore yet
From me conceal his flight? Ah! Megabyzus,
Arbaces is no more; I know it well,
And each in pity hides it from his father.

Mega.
Avert the omen, Heaven! Yet recollect
Your troubled thoughts; resume your wonted firmness;
Our enterprize demands it all.

Artab.
Alas!
What enterprize can now engross my mind?
I have no enterprize—my son is lost!

Mega.
What says my lord? And have you then in vain
Seduc'd the royal guards? Have I in vain
Seduc'd the allegiance of the troops?—Resolve:
This moment Artaxerxes goes to swear
Observance to the laws: the sacred cup
By your command already have I ting'd
With deadly juice: and shall we now so poorly
Lose all our cares and toils?

Artab.
For whom, my friend,
Should I still toil, unless I find Arbaces?
My son was all my joy; to make him great
I first became a traitor; for his sake
Was odious to myself; depriv'd of him,
What further hope remains? I lose the fruit
Of all my crimes.

Mega.
Arbaces, dead or living,
Claims at your hands the empire, or revenge.

Artab.
For that alone I live—Yes, Megabyzus,
Lead, lead me where thou wilt; I trust in thee.

Mega.

[Exit.