English

ACT II. Scene I.

The Queen's Apartment.

H OW 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.

SCENE VII.

Ara. I've done my duty, and I've done no more.
Why wear you that concern upon your brow?
It misbecomes you in this time of joy.
Strait let us to the King, and learn his pleasure.
Justice is ours, but mercy 's lodg'd in him.
Orba. I never can believe the Prince so vile
To mix with common murderers and assassins.
I think him virtuous, and I share his suff'rings.
All generous souls must strong reluctance find,
In heaping sorrows on th'afflicted mind.

SCENE VI.

Arax . Behold your leader. Where are now your hopes
Of murd'ring Kings and over-turning nations?
See with what stedfast eyes they gaze upon him,
As thinking him the man that has betray'd them.
Angry Suspicion frowns on ev'ry brow,
They know their guilt, and each mistrusts the other.
We seiz'd them in th'attempt to make escape,
All arm'd, all desperate, all of them unknown,
And ev'ry one is obstinately dumb.
I charge you, speak. Know you that prisoner there?

SCENE V.

Orba. Keep off a while, and leave us to ourselves.
I own, I think this rash suspicion wrongs you;
For murder is the mean revenge of cowards,
And you are brave.
Soph. By whom am I accus'd?
Let him stand forth. Of murder, murder say you?
Bear I the marks of an abandon'd wretch?
How little man can search the heart of man!
Orba. Our Priests are train'd up spies by education;
They pry into the secrets of the state,

SCENE IV.

Ara. Behold, Orbasius ; have I wrong'd your friend?
Behold a slave oblig'd by gratitude
To wear his chains with patience! This is he
Phraortes honours with his royal favours!
This is the man that I accus'd unjustly!
Soldiers. Advance, and bring the prisoner near us.
Soph. Why am I thus insulted? why this force?
If 'tis a crime to be unfortunate,
I well deserve this usage.
Ara. 'Tis our duty.

SCENE III.

Hyd. Let's quit the palace while retreat is safe.
The deed must be deferr'd. Revenge, be calm.
This day is his, to-morrow shall be ours.
Orba. See that each centinel is on strict watch.
Let all the Guards be doubled; bar the gates,
That not a man pass forth without observance.
Go you; and with the utmost vigilance
Scarch ev'ry room; for treason lyes in wait.
Ara. Divide yourselves this instant o'er the palace.

SCENE II.

Ara. Whence come ye, rev'rend Fathers; why these looks
Of terror and amaze? why gaze ye back
As if the strides of Death stalk'd close behind you?
1st Mag. The King ev'n at this solemn hour of Night
Sent privately to call us to his presence.
Ye Gods preserve him!
Ara. Why this wild confusion?
In ev'ry passing face I read suspicion,
And haggard fear. Has sickness seiz'd the King,

ACT I. Scene I.

The PALACE .

Hydarnes. Conspirators.

1st Consp. Is night near spent?
2d Consp. 'Tis yet the dead of night;
And not a glimm'ring ray behind yon hills
Fore-runs the morning's dawn.
1st Consp. Thus far w'are safe.
2d Consp. Silence and Sleep throughout the Palace reign.
1st Consp. Success is now secure.

Spoken by Mr. WILKS .

I Wish some author, careless of renown,
Would without format prologue risque the town.
For what is told you by this useless ditty?
Only that tragedy should move your pity:
That when you see theatric heroes shown,
Their virtues you should strive to make your own.
What gain we by this solemn way of teaching?
Our precepts mend your lives no more than preaching.
Since then our Bard declines this beaten path;
What if we lash'd the criticks into wrath?

SCENE the last .

LYCIDAS. PARTHENIA. LAURA.

LAURA.

— — — Alexis slain!

LYCIDAS.

Yes. 'Twas I did it. See this crimson stain!
My hands with blood of innocence are dy'd.
O may the Moon her silver beauty hide
In rolling clouds! my soul abhors the light;
Shade, shade the murd'rer in eternal night!

LAURA.

No rival shepherd is before thee laid;
There bled the chastest, the sincerest maid
That ever sigh'd for love. On her pale face,