 | Zenobia |  |
SCENE V.
Zopyrusand followers.
Zenobia, Heavens! and Tiridates here!
Zenobia lives again? And wherefore thus
Depart from him in tears? It must be so—
She loves him still—But no; the rigid fair,
Virtuous Zenobia, wife to Rhadamistus—
—Yet, what can rigour or can virtue aught
Avail to rule the bosom's tenderest passion?
What cruel, what unheard-of jealousy
Is this I feel? To find some happier lover
Dispute her heart, yet know not who's my rival.
Zenobia lives again? And wherefore thus
Depart from him in tears? It must be so—
She loves him still—But no; the rigid fair,
Virtuous Zenobia, wife to Rhadamistus—
—Yet, what can rigour or can virtue aught
Avail to rule the bosom's tenderest passion?
What cruel, what unheard-of jealousy
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Dispute her heart, yet know not who's my rival.
With doubtful jealousy that glows
Within my tortur'd breast, nor knows
What secret rival to oppose,
A thousand racking pangs I prove.
At once I love, at once I hate,
And such the tenour of my fate,
I dare not hope revenge or love.
[as he is going he sees Rhad. and stops.
Within my tortur'd breast, nor knows
What secret rival to oppose,
A thousand racking pangs I prove.
At once I love, at once I hate,
And such the tenour of my fate,
I dare not hope revenge or love.
But see from far where Rhadamistus comes,
And comes this way. My followers are at hand;
Delay not then his death. Perhaps already
He may suspect me: where we parted last,
He stay'd not my return.—But if Zenobia
Is Tiridates' lover, by his death
I shall but from a powerful foe deliver
A favour'd rival.—Could I find the means
To kindle strife between them; make them fall
By mutual slaughter, and myself from both
Usurp that fruit the victor should have gain'd—
This were a master-piece of policy.
It must be duly weigh'd.— [to his followers.]
Amidst these trees
Be now, my friends, conceal'd.— [they retire.]
Behold him here:
Now to my work—But with him comes a nymph.
I'll wait till she retires, and he alone
Remains for my design.
And comes this way. My followers are at hand;
Delay not then his death. Perhaps already
He may suspect me: where we parted last,
He stay'd not my return.—But if Zenobia
Is Tiridates' lover, by his death
I shall but from a powerful foe deliver
A favour'd rival.—Could I find the means
To kindle strife between them; make them fall
By mutual slaughter, and myself from both
Usurp that fruit the victor should have gain'd—
This were a master-piece of policy.
It must be duly weigh'd.— [to his followers.]
Amidst these trees
Be now, my friends, conceal'd.— [they retire.]
Behold him here:
Now to my work—But with him comes a nymph.
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Remains for my design.
[conceals himself.
| Zenobia | |