University of Virginia Library

The Fourth ACT.

The SCENE, The Camp under the Walls of Babylon.
Enter Lysimachus, Ptolomy, Eumenes, and Thalestris.
Ptol.
Now, generous Rival, and my noble Friend,
My Love, no more, on Fortune, shall depend;
She has declar'd, already, on your side,
By Virtue only, shall our Cause, be try'd:
My Love for Parisatis, I'le pursue,
But then, I'le strive, to Merit her, like you.

Lysi.
There's nothing, Ptolomy, I esteem above
Your glorious Friendship, but my greater Love:
In that alone, I must with you Contend,
And strive to Conquer, and subdue, my Friend.

Ptol.
Whilst we thus strive, each other to subdue,
At once continuing Friends, and Rivals too,
Since Friendship losses shares, and parts all gains,
One does not loose, what th'other Friend obtains.

Lysi.
We have, to storm the Town, this Night, agreed,
Now let us shew, our Diligence and Care,
And our whole force, for this assault, prepare.

Ptol.
We need not doubt, all Pow'er to us must yield,
When Love, and Honour, lead us to the Field.

Eume.
Madam, if in th'assault, my Death I find,
May not a gen'rous pity, move your Mind?
If with one Tear, you should my Fall lament,
'Twould ease my Grief, and I should dye Content.

Thal.
If you should fall, whilst Glory you pursue,
I should not pity, but should envy you.
Some great, and brave attempt, may Passion move,
Fortune, and Noble Valour I can love.

Eume.
I will to Dangers, as to Conquest run,
And do such Things, the like were never done.
I wish, the Gods, new dangers would Create,
And not give Conquest, at too cheap a rate.
Where Blood, and horror reigns, I will be there,
And on ten Thousand Swords, rush without fear.
If acts of Valour, your great Mind can move,
You, e're to morrow, shall Eumenes love.

Thal.
If feeble Love, your Courage shall inspire,
You shall, in me, Honours great force admire.
I fear Eumenes, you will blush, for shame,
When you do less for Love, than I for Fame.

Enter Captain with a Letter.
Capt.
Some of my Souldiers, Sir, being nigh the Wall,
Perceiv'd an Arrow, at their Feet, to fall;
Taking it up, to shoot it back, they spy'd
This Letter, fast about the Arrow ty'd;
To me they brought it, and I hither flew,
Perceiving it, directed, Sir, to you.

Delivers the Letter to Lysimachus, who reads it to himself.
Lysi.
Captain, I give you thanks, for your great care,
Let all your men, for the Assault prepare,
Let them be ready, and in Armes attend,
E're night, I will, to you, my orders send.
[Exit Capt.
My Friends, this Letter, from Araxis came,
He is, it seems, got into Babylon.
See what he writes—
[reads a Letter.

I am got into Babylon undiscovered, and by the means of a
Captain of Cassanders, a Friend of mine; will this Night make

you Masters of the Town: He hath lately been disgusted by him,
and I have made him absolutely ours: He has this Night the
Command of Semiramis's Gate. Stir not till you see a Fire on the
old Tower of Ninus, at what time you shall be received in at that
Gate, without opposition. Observe the signe.

Araxis.

The Gods, this moment, are to us grown kind,
And favour, what before we had design'd.

Ptol.
'Tis our just Cause, does them to us incline.

Lysi.
Come Ptolomy, let's watch, the happy signe.
This night, I hope, we shall our Princess see,
And her, from Danger, and from Prison free.

Thal.
Our Danger, now, Eumenes, will be small.

Eume.
I wish, for blest occasions, now, to show,
How much I dare attempt, to merit you.
Since fighting only's pleasing to your Eye,
You should both see me fight, and fighting dye.

[Exeunt.
The Scene. The Palace Royal.
Enter Cassander, Roxana, Hesione.
Roxa.
Can you pretend to Love, yet fear to do
The thing, your Mistress does require of you?

Cass.
I do, with pleasure, your commands obey,
When reason, does o're your fierce passions sway.
But, what you now require—
Will the bright lustre, of your Virtue stain.

Roxa.
I find, your passion for me, is but small,
Love without Limits, or love not at all;
Were your Love great, your Reason would submit,
And you would think, that just, which I thought fit.
If you lov'd as you ought, and I were she,
Your Love would have no bounds, no shores but me.

Cass.
My Love, no other Bound, than you does know,
I have no will, but what from yours does flow,
But if our Hearts, and Wills, but one are found,
Yet honour, is to both, the equal Bound,
How do I then, your will, and pleasure shun,
When I do all, in Honour, may be done?

Roxa.
That empty Name, Cassander, you may prize,
Since I am less, than shaddows in your Eyes,
But on their Deaths, whom you so well defend,
My life, my peace, my happiness depend.
'Tis by their Deaths, and by their Deaths alone,
I must preserve my life, and fix my Throne.
Do you in Honour, my desires refuse,
Whilst I through it, my life, and Empire loose.

Cass.
Ah! Madam, that which makes you thus severe,
Is rather the effect of Hate, than fear.
You hate Statira, and would her remove,
Because she is a Rival, in your love:
She dead, your dying hopes, would then revive,
But that destroys my hopes, which makes yours thrive.
Should I do all you ask, I soon shall see,
Orontes have, what should be giv'n to me.

Roxa.
'Tis true, Orontes once my heart possest,
But hatred, now has driv'n him from my Breast.
Of late, Cassander, I your Image find,
Making too deep impressions, on my mind,
Your constant Love, and Services, I weigh,
And will, at last, my obligations pay.
This last effect then of your Duty show,
And for Reward, I'le give my self to you:
When you, for me, have this great Service done,
Take then your Mistress, and with her a Throne.

Cass.
There's nothing in this World, like you I prize,
Love ranks you equal with the Deities:
The great Roxana's pow'er, who can withstand?
Mortals dispute not, what the Gods command.
I do submit, and will your Will obey,
And soon will snatch your Rival's Life away.
When your bright God, sleeps in the Western Wave,
And will not look on those, he cannot save:
When horrid Night, arises from the deep,
And o're the World, deep Silence shedds, and sleep,
Then I, about this dreadful work, will hast,
And those you doom to dye, shall sleep their last.

Roxa.
Go my Cassander, it is you alone
Must fix Roxana, on the Persian Throne:
No bold attempt, from danger, can be free,
'Tis still well done, if it Successful be:
What you intend, you by surprize must doe;
But, I shall leave the Management to you.
Let not in vain, the pretious Minutes hast,
Dispatch, that you, a Lover's Bliss may taste,
Think on our Joys, and our Felicitie,
The Prize, a Crown, and what is greater, Me.

[Exit with Hesione.
Cass.
It must be done, such is Roxana's Hate,
Her Rival's Death, can only it abate:
And such is my great Passion, I must be
The Instrument, of all her Crueltie.
I see the Danger, which I cannot shun,
And to the Precipice, run headlong on:
Great is the Prize, Roxana, and a Throne.
Enter a Black Mute.
To day, this Mute, was giv'en me, by a Friend.
Oxas come near—I will to you impart,
The most important secrets of my heart.
I do repose in you, no Common trust,
You can be secret, but can you be just?
[Black bows.
Can you obey all that I shall Command?
[Bows again.
And do what e're I bid?—you understand?
[Black bows.
Without Remorse, can you obey my Will?
[Bows again.
Can you unmov'd, the Blood of Women spill?
Thou instantly two Princesses must Kill.
[Black starts.
Hah! does the name of Princess, make you start?
Hast thou a tender place about thy heart?
The Black bows, and puts his hand to his Sword, making signes it shall be done.
Tis well—anon I will Instruct you more.

[Exeunt.
The SCENE, The Palace of Perdicas within Babylon.
Enter Perdicas, Statira, Cleone.
Perd.
Madam you're safe, and now may banish fear,
Whilst I give Orders, to secure you here;
Roxana is unbounded in her Hate,
Cruel, and to be mov'd, no more, than Fate.
Her bloody, and her barbarous intent,
I must with strong, and double Guards prevent.
Madam, you will not long, be here alone,
My Guard's already for the Princess gone.

Stat.
That is an Obligation, I must own.

Perd.
I might at last, hope a more gentle Fate,
If Services, could overcome your Hate.

Stat.
My Friendship, if you please, you may obtain.

Perd.
'Tis Love, the Soul of Friendship, I would gain.

Stat.
Love is a Thing, I have no Pow'er to give.

Perd.
Nor is it in my Power, without that Love, to Live.
But, Madam, this your Hatred may remove,
Knowing, all my Offences, spring from Love.
Love is not Love, if's Empire once decays,
Or if Love's Power, Reason's dull Law obeys.

[Exit.
Stat.
On Love tho he, both pure and sacred be,
Men without shame, fling their own Infamie.
And when they long, in wicked ways have trod,
All their vile Faults and Crimes lay on the God.
But Love, thy Nature, is divine, and pure,
Thou canst no spots, nor blemishes indure.
Tho all things, do thy Mighty Pow'er obey,
Honour, and Reason, still with thee bear sway.

Enter Parisatis.
Pari.
Have the Kind Gods, a longer Life assign'd?

Embracing.
Stat.
If granting life be Kindness, they are kind.
Our Tragic-Scene, you see, is not yet past.
Death will conclude, our Play of Life, at last;
In the mean time each here must act his part,
Mov'd by those Powers above, which rule the Heart.

Pari.
The Gods, when we're prest down, yield some relief,
And sprinkle short-liv'd Joys, among our Grief:
The life, of every one, is checquer'd still.
(Tho mixt unequally) with good, and ill,
Which set each other off, like Black, and White,
This, makes that seem more dark; that, this more bright:
So late despairing any more to meet,
Has made the Joys, of this Embrace, thus sweet.

Stat.
Our Joys soon vanish, like a Winters day,
Sorrows like long, and tedious Nights, do stay.
The Gods dispose our Lots, as they think fit,
We mortals cannot Choose, but must Submit.
Bid Charmion sing—
In her sweet Voice, I oft have pleasure found,
Musick like Balm, eases grief's smarting wound.
[They sit.
A SONG.

Pari.
The Night grows old, 'tis time to go to rest,
Sleep calms the passions of a troubled breast.

Stat.
Sleep which to others a soft pleasure seems,
To me, of late, new troubles brings in Dreams,
My labouring Fancy, there, Affliction finds,
Not that repose, sleep gives, to other minds.

Pari.
Those Images, which in our Dreams abound,
Do, but with gentle strokes, our Fancy wound:
But Balmy sleep, gives, for a while, relief,
Allays the smart, and Cures the sting of grief.

Stat.
With wakeful thoughts, my Soul's so much opprest,
My Eyes, no sleep can find, my Mind no rest,
I know that Death, or some great danger's nigh,
I'm much afflicted, yet I know not why:
The knowing Soul, approaching ills discerns,
And then the Body, by some signes, forewarnes,
When to the Stars, she is about to go,
She suddenly grows light, and strangely things does know.

Pari.
The Gods divert, those evill's, which you fear,
Or give us strength, the ills they send, to bear.

Enter a Souldier of Perdicas's Guard.
Sold.
Madam, we by Cassander are surpriz'd,
And all your Guards, are by his Soldiers seiz'd:
Some fled, but most, did in your service dye.
Fly, Madam, if it be not yet too late,
Whilst I in your defence, go meet my Fate.

[Exit.
Clashing of Swords within.
Stat.
'Tis vain to fly, it will but argue fear,
Since we must dye, let's stay, and meet Death here.

Enter Cassander with Mute, with drawn Swords. Cassander turns about speaking to the Soldiers who were about to Enter.
Cass.
Soldiers retire—
Defend the passage, let none enter here.
Turning to the Princesses the Women running about them shreeking.
In vain you'l strive, your destiny to shun,
From the long reach of Fate, you cannot run:
And since you know, there's no avoyding it,
Be wise, and to necessity submit,

Stat.
I can submit, to what the Gods decree.
But that, Cassander's, yet unknown to thee.

Cass.
Fate's Book is open, and we now may read,
What the great Gods (before time was) decreed.
'Tis there I read, your Fatal destiny,
The Gods have will'd your Death, and you must dye.

Stat.
Our death, is by Roxana will'd, and you,
And we must yield, if the Gods will it too.
We can resign to them, the life they lent.

Pari.
But must you be, the hateful Instrument?

Stat.
When's cruel Hand, our Innocent Blood has spilt,
He'll find a just reward, for all his guilt.

Cass.
I come not here, with Women to dispute,
Oxas, you know my pleasure—

The Mute kneels, shewing them a Strangling string, and making signes to them to submit.
Pari.
Sister, I beg it, with my latest breath,
Let me first try, th'untrodden pathes of Death.
I will descend before, and strew the way
With Flowers, that leads, to the Eternal day.

Stat.
First, from the close, dark Prisons, of the Womb,
I to the trouble, of short life, did come,
And first, I in the pathes of Death, will tread,
Which to the joys, of our bright God, do lead.
Raise not my tender passions, with your Tears,
[Pari. weeps.
Like a soft smiling Hebe, Death appears.
I have no thoughts, which do disturb me now,
But what proceed, from my great care of you.
When through the straight of Death, my way I've made,
And my just debt, to Mother Nature paid,
When my freed Soul, shall find a larger Room,
And I all Light, and Spirit shall become,
On Flowry Banks, where happy shaddows stray,
For thy dear Soul, I will expecting, stay.
Remember Sir, the blood, from whence we spring,
[To Cass.
That I was Wife, to the Worlds greatest King,
Your Master too—Now condescend to crave,
That I may dye untouch'd, by any slave.
Let my own Women, your commands obey,
That's all, Cassander, I have now to say.

Cass.
Be speedy then—
Oxas—go in, stand a Spectator by,
Touch not their Persons, only see them dye.

Stat.
Give me that String—
Takes the strangling string from the Mute.
—This Sister is the Friend,
That soon will give, to all our troubles, End.
Come banish fear, 'tis but a little breath,
We loose—'Tis guilt, that Terror gives, to Death.

Exeunt with Women weeping and Mute following.
Cass.
She's gone,—and strait, will be for ever gone,
Alas! what Beauty, Love has overthrown!
Tyrannic Love, which forces me to do
A thing, 'gainst Virtue, and my conscience too.
I feel a soft, and tender passion rise,
And from my Breast, to flow into my Eyes.
Assist me Love—I fear I shall relent:
Pity, would make me cowardly Repent,
If her bright Image, I so much adore,
Did not by force, attract my Passions more.

[Exit.
Enter Roxana, Hesione.
Roxa.
Their words, and actions, must Mysterious be,
Who think to gain a Crown, by Pollicy:
Who can't dissemble well, can never rule,
And a plain dealer, is esteem'd a Fool.
Let not Cassander blame me,—He deceives
And cheats himself, when he my words believes.
Love has put out, his mindes discerning Eyes,
Yet the same passion, makes me quick, and wise.
He vainly Hopes, to gain a Crown, and me,
With an Eternal blot of Infamie,
But he will only that, and danger gain,
Whilst I the profit, and the fruit obtain:
I shall stand safe, and shelter'd, from all harm,
Whilst he endures, the fury of the storm.
Close at his Heels, the Tempest will pursue,
And soon o'retake, I hope, o'rewhelm him too.
Thus Princes, do of ills, themselves acquit,
And favourites dye for Crimes, their Kings commit
Enter Cassander.
Cassander here—I must dissemble now,
And a new face will to my Lover show.

Cass.
Roxana here!—she does my steps pursue,
[aside.
She doubts I can't be cruel, or not true:
A Rival dead sh'accounts an happy sight,
And comes to glut, her bloody Appetite.
To th'other World, your Rival now is gone,
And you, great Queen, Command this World alone.
The furious Perdicas, I've Pris'ner made,
By Gold, and his corrupted Guards betray'd.
Sometimes in Fury, the whole World he threats,
Anon, more mild, as humbly he intreats,
Now deep Revenge, by all the Gods, he swears;
Then courts his Guards, then curses, and dispa'res,
And calling on the Queen, bursts into Tears.

Roxa.
What! have you then the great Statira slain?

Cass.
Yes—she is dead, that you alone might Reign.

Roxa.
O Gods! It cannot be—

Cass.
Not be?—when you
Did pray, desire, intreat, command it too?
I am amaz'd—

Roxa.
Ah! I did soon Repent,
Those harsh commands, from my strong passion sent,
You saw the flames, of the then raging fire,
And should have quencht, my Exorbitant desire.
You those Commands, might very well distrust,
Which bid you, to be cruel, and unjust.

Cass.
Madam, your vain Repentance, comes too late,
No Humane pow'r, can now recall their Fate.
Enter Mute.
What! is Statira, and her Sister dead?
Mute makes signes they are Dead.
By this, the greatness, of my Love, you see,
And what Commanding pow'r, you'ave over me.
Great Queen, you shall the whole Worlds Scepter sway,
Whilst at your feet, its Kings their Crowns shall lay,
And your Cassander kneel, more great than they.

Roxa.
O cruel Man! whom some fell Tygress bore,
Could not that move you, which the Gods adore?
Beauty, so Sacred, and Divine, a good,
Which safe, 'midst bloody Arms, unguarded stood,
Could that no fear, nor reverence, move in thee?
Had'st thou no awe, of its Divinity?
Tyrants who durst, Priests, Altars, Gods, invade,
Have still to Beauty awful Reverence paid.
Could not her Sex, her Blood, her Dignity,
Give some stop to thy Monstrous cruelty?

Cass.
'Tis well dissembled—but your heart I see,
You may deceive the World, but cannot me.

Roxa.
Dissemble! Oh my Heart, swells in my Breast,
And with such loads, of sorrow, is deprest,
I never shall again, with joys, be blest.
[weeps.
Shew me this dismal sight?—

Cass.
False Woman, you shall see that welcome sight,
Won't move your sorrow, but your Eyes delight.
They go towards the further part of the Stage, the Scene opens and discovers Statira and Parisatis lying as dead on two Couches their faces Veil'd, Cleone and other Women sitting by them on the Ground weeping.
See there they lye, hid in Deaths gloomy Night.

Roxa.
There lye the marks, of thy Barbarity;
Which I with trembling, and with Horror see.
In silence, I a Sisters Death will mourn,
My Soul, for my weak Limbs, too heavie's grown.

Returns leaning on Hesione.
Cass.
She feignes so well, and so much Art, does shew,
I doubt I shall anon, believe her too.
The Scene Closes.
Would I had pow'er, to give them Life again,
That you, Roxana, might not weep in vain!
'Tis now your dear Dead Sister, but if she
Could Live, she'd then your hated Rival be;
And I, who am, so barbarous a Man,
Should Courted be, to Murther her agen.
Great Jove, who all the lesser Fates controules,
Send from above, from thy great stock of Souls,
Two new immortal sparkes, or th'old return,
That griev'd Roxana, may no longer mourn.

Roxa.
Leave your vain wishes—Let the Gods alone,
There's business, of more moment, to be done.
When the Sea's calm, the Air Serene, and clear,
The Ship before the Wind, each Buoy can steer.
But when the Winds, roar in their shatter'd shroudes,
When Heaven's bright face, grows terrible, with cloudes
And angry Seas, to moving Mountaines grow,
The Pilot then his skill, and Art does show.
'Tis now, Cassander, you must show your skill,
And try, if you can save, as well as kill.
Now you must show, your courage, and your care,
To every Guard, and every Watch repare:
Statira was belov'd, and you will see
Th' enraged Babylonians Mutiny:
They will revenge her Death, on you, and me.
If us, from threatning stormes, you now can save,
You shall enjoy, the Fortune, of the Brave.

Cass.
T'obtaine your Love, your Foes I have withstood,
Imprison'd Friends, and dipt my Hands in Blood,
Your Int'rests, and your Factions mine have made,
But I with scorn, and with neglect, am paid.
Let the storm rise, I long enough have strove,
To shew my obedience, and my matchless Love.
I like a God, will now withdraw my Guard,
And let Ruine loose, till you my Love reward.

Roxa.
Let Ruine come, Cassander, you will learn.
It does not me, so much as you, concern.
Were you a God, and had the power of Jove,
You never should compel me, Sir, to Love:
I know your merits, and your passion see,—
Go to your charge—leave the reward to me.

Cass.
By what strong Charm, am I compell' to Love!
I must, and will, this wicked Charm remove.
Think not, that you with Tears, can me beguile,
False as the Hyena, or the Crocadile,
Weep o're your prey, when in your Heart you smile,
I'll humbly seek, no more, for Love my due,
But try by force, and Armes to compass you:
My Hands once more in Blood, I will embrew,
And change your false, and feigned Tears, to true.

Exit, Mute following him.
Roxa.
When Love, and high Ambition do possess
To Hesi. smiling.
Thy Soul, thou mayst at my great pleasure Ghess.
The dead Statira, was a happy sight,
Oh! how my Heart, was fill'd with the delight!
Nothing can now, my happiness remove,
I have no Rival, in my Throne, nor Love:
The way to Empire, and to Love is plain,
He whom I love is safe, she I did hate is slain.

Hesi.
I saw dark Clouds, in your fierce Lovers Eyes,
I fear some storm, will suddenly arise,
His Soul, is full of Jealousie, and spight,
I wonder, you so much his anger slight.

Roxa.
Let him rage on, he will grow tame, at last;
Men play with Fishes, when they'ave hook'd them fast
'Tis sport to hear, and to behold a while,
A Lyon roar, and strugling in the toyl.
I can with ease, the furious Beast beguile,
Awe him with frownes, and chear him with a smile,
Now I must build, and now destroy his peace,
Sometimes his hopes, sometimes his fears increase,
And so, in equal ballance, keep them still;
Thus I subject, this Lyon, to my will.
Enter Mute, hastily makes signes, and pulling Roxana by the Sleeve to follow him.
What means this Mute? what is it he would have?

Hesi.
Madam, he your assistance seems to crave.
Some business of importance, brings him here.

Roxa.
He seems both full of hast, and full of fear.
Alas! I can't divine, what this should be.
I'll know, what his dumb signes, do signifie.

Exeunt, hastily following the Mute
The SCENE, The Prison of Orontes.
Enter Cassander.
Cass.
I bow'd my Neck indeed, to mighty Love,
When I would scorn, to be a slave to Jove,
His chains I did admit, and never strove:
They look'd so fair, so easie seem'd, and light,
They shone so glorious, and appear'd so bright,
I took pride in my Bonds, and wore them with delight.
But now they're heavy, and uneasie grown,
They sit too close, and off they must be thrown.
But ah! I fear 'tis past my pow'r, and skill,
My Rebel Heart, will not obey my will.
It loves the great, and proud Roxana still,
I'll Love, but Court her, at another Rate,
My Love, shall now appear, to her, like Hate,
I am resolv'd, I will turn Rebel strait.
Her hopes, which on Orontes life, depend
Drawes his Sword.
Shall, with his life, have instantly an End.

Goes towards the further part of the Stage, the Scene opens and discovers Orontes leaning on a Couch.
Oron.
Soft sleep, o're half the World, his Wings does spread,
And does on weary Eyes, his Poppies shed;
Nature her self, in silence, seems to nod,
And all things rest, full of the drousie God,
Yet I, whom wakeful thoughts, and cares infest,
Nor for my Soul, nor for my Eyes, find rest.
What vision's this, appears before my sight,
Sees Cass. with a drawn sword.
So fierce, and dreadful, in the dead of Night?

Cass.
I am thy evil Genius, and am come,
With this, Orontes, to pronounce thy doom.
By mighty Jove, and all the Gods, you shall
To Love, and Anger, now a Victim fall.

Oron.
Tho I from hated life, would gladly fly,
I will not, at your pleasure, tamely dye.

Rises and comes forth.
Cass.
You must Orontes—
Roxana is not here, to help you now,
You stand between, my happiness, and me.

[advances to kill Orontes
Enter Roxana and Hesione.
Roxa.
O Gods! what spectacle is this I see!
[To Hesi.
Run—Call my Guards—
[Exit Hesione.
Traytor be gone—

Roxana runs betwixt Cassander and Orontes.
Cass.
When I have kill'd Orontes, I will go.

Roxa.
You first shall kill, your Queen, and Mistress too.

Cass.
I'ave vow'd his Death, and will my vow perform.

Roxa.
I'ave vow'd his safety—He shall take no harm.
Is this the way, you your great passion prove?

Cass.
I now a Rebel am to Love.

Strives to come at Orontes. Roxana to hinder him.
Roxa.
And like a Rebel, I will use you now.
Enter Guards—seize Cassander and dis-arm him.
Traytor, you shall at last, my power know.
Bear hence this rageing Beast—
[To the Guards.
In Chains, and a close Prison, keep him safe,
Till he grows tame again—

Cass.
Ungrateful Queen—
I have too long your slave, and lover been:
But I, in spite, of your bewitching Charmes,
Will Live, to kill, your Gallant in your Armes.

Roxa.
Guards have him hence—
Exeunt Guards with Cassander.
Can my Orontes, still inhumane be?
Have you no Love, nor pity left for me?
Did'st thou the Milk, of some fierce Tygress Suck?
Or was thy Heart, cut from a Scythian Rock?
That thou can'st see a Queen, whom Kings adore,
Fall at thy Feet, and Love, with Tears, implore.
[Kneels.
Can you so tender, to Statira be,
And a cold Marble Statue, still to me?

Oron.
Roxana rise—
[takes her up.
A noble Soul, to Love, was ne'r compell'd,
Bright virtue only, makes brave Souls to yield:
But your blind passion, bears such evil sway,
That leads you far, from virtues paths, astray.
You ask'd a Heart, that was bestow'd before
On Queen Statira—

Roxa.
In vain you do on her your Love bestow,
Unless you'l Court her, in the shades below.

Oron.
How! Is Statira dead!—
Ah! cruel Tygress! have you slain the Queen?
Of all that's fair, and good, have you the Murthress been?

Roxa.
I try'd that way, your Rocky Heart to move,
And see, how soon, it can be touch'd, by Love.
Statira Lives—

Oron.
Lives!—Where?—into her Armes I'll sly,
Or—tell me, is she dead? that I may dye.
Without her, to the Gods, I would not go,
Nor tread, the blest Elysian Fields below:
Without Statira, I no bliss can know.
But if she's dead, I'll fly away
From life, and here, not one short minute stay,
Speak—is she dead?—you rack me with delay.

Roxa.
This tender passion, for my Rival shown,
My Loving Heart too, on the Rack has thrown.
But I will be reveng'd, and you shall dwell
In anxious doubt, and tortur'd in that Hell.

Oron.
Stay—do not thus, in cruelty delight:
Let me not linger here—Kill me out-right:
Tell me sh's dead, and kill me with that word,
Or say she lives, and a reprieve afford.
Free me from pain, or send my Soul from hence.

Roxa.
Thy Soul, shall feel, the torture, of suspence,
I will torment thee yet—thou shalt not know,
Whether Statira, is alive, or no.

[Exit with Hesione.
Oron.
What shall I do? 'tis pain, and Death, to Live,
Each Minute, does ten Thousand tortures give,
And yet in Death, I dare not seek my bliss,
Lest, in that unknown Region, I should miss
The happiness I seek,—
And lose my Queen, in that World, and in this.
O Gods! What pains do you for Souls prepaire,
Who dare not hope, yet know not to dispa're.

Goes in, the SCENE Closes.