University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Zaphna and Palmyra on one side, and Sopheian slowly on the other.
Zaph.
Joy to our generous host—peace and her train,
I trust, are near!—Ha, if I judge aright,
Joy hath no dwelling here—they are the characters
Of grief and deep dismay, that may be read
Throughout that reverend form!—Say, royal sir,
Have you not met?

Soph.
Yes, Zaphna.

Zaph.
Treated?

Soph.
Yes.

Zaph.
And how?

Soph.
What boots the tale?—

Zaph.
I doubt, my lord—
Pray pardon,—that your port hath haply seem'd
Too much aloft, unbending to our Prophet;
For I did hear him, with an ample heart,
Speak of dear terms, and purposed good toward you.

Soph.
I did descend beneath a low man's level;
Besought, with tears besought him, for my children,
Even at his knee.

Pal.
O grace!—and what hath chanced?

Soph.
Perhaps even now my son is on the pale;
And the chaste honours of my dearer daughter,
Thrown to the public camp.

Pal.
And did you then,
Forget Palmyra—when the chains of one
Might ransom both your children?

Soph.
I did add
Even all my treasures in exchange.

Pal.
Ah, Heaven!—
I have then no father—Zaphna, thou art all,
The only friend that's left!

Zaph.
Royal Sopheian—
I am your hostage; and, where I'm known, my honour
Unquestion'd as the light. I am more than hostage,
Bound from my soul to your best vantage ever—
I have served our Prophet from the earliest hour,
That arms e'er cloath'd an infant; a slight boast,
To say he's yet my debtor. I will seek him,
I will invest me with your suit—meanwhile
My faith remains your surety.

Soph.
Generous youth!
Go—and the blessings of a forlorn father
Still wait on thee my son.

Zaph.
Peace be your guest!
A quick return shall meet your amplest wishes.

[Exit Zaphna.
Pal.
Alas! my lord, and hath my once fond father
Cast off his child? could a short absence thus
Efface great nature's impress?

Soph.
Though I menaced—
Heaven knows how distant from my heart!—to use thee
Below thy least deservings.—

Pal.
Could I think it?—
When memory goes back to its first stage,
It meets his kindness there, which thence came onward,
Encreasing as my days. My prate alone
Could cast his care, new form his face to smiles;
I seem'd his little mint for daily pleasures,
Lived at his knee, and grew but in his eye.
Can I forget with what continued rapture,
He since hath caught and held me to his bosom,
As from his being I were once again
To take new root?

Soph.
He knew, he knew, Palmyra!
Nature, tho' turn'd to savage, could not hurt thee:
Thence grew his confidence—And yet, sweet maid,
Would I might wean thee to my own affection!
For much I fear thy father—much I fear,
No child of mine shall close my eyes in death,
Twice born, and now twice buried.

Pal.
O, my master!
Should a hair fall that hangs upon your peace,
On his own daughter, even upon myself,
I'll do you vengeance.

Soph.
Generous, gentle heart!—
Come, my best child, and while our Zaphna's absent,
Let's wear the hour, and mingle hope with tears;
Weep where we must, but smile whene'er we can,
Since woeful is the state ordain'd for man.

[Exeunt.