Give me a dungeon, give me chains and darkness; Nor courts, nor fragrant bowers, nor air, nor day-light Give me one glimpse of joy-O loft Cylene!
Orba. Misfortunes are the common lot of man,
And each man has his fhare of diff'rent kinds :
He who has learnt to bear them best is happiest.
But fee, Araxes comes with guards and prifoners.
Enter Araxes, Hydarnes, Confpirators, with guards.
Arax. Behold your leader. Where are now your hopes
[To the Confpirators.
Of murd'ring kings and over-turning nations?
See with what ftedfaft eyes they gaze upon him,
As thinking him the man that has betray'd them.
Angry fufpicion frowns on ev'ry brow;
They know their guilt, and each miftrufts the other.
We feiz'd them in th' attempt to make escape,
All arm'd, all defperate, all of them unknown,
And ev'ry one is obftinately dumb.
[To Orba. I charge you, fpeak. Know you that prifoner there? Ay, view him well. Confefs, and merit grace. What, not a word! Will you accept of life? [To Hyd. Speak, and 'tis granted. Tortures fhall compel you. Will you, or you, or you, or any of you? What, all refolv'd on death! Bring forth the chains. [Exit foldier. ́Orba. Be not too rafh, nor treat the prince too roughly.
He may be innocent.
Arax. You are too partial.
I know my duty. Juftice treats alike
Those who alike offend, without regard
To dignity or office. Bring the chains.
[Enter foldiers with chains.
Orba. This over zeal perhaps may give offence,
The prince is treated like no common flave.
Phraortes ftrives to leffen his affliction,
Nor would he add a figh to his diftreffes :
Aftarbe too will talk to him whole hours,
With all the tender manners of her fex,
To fhorten the long tedious days of bondage,
I'll be his guard. My life fhall answer for him.
Ara. My life must answer for him. He's my charge, And this is not a time for courtesy.
Are you ftill refolute and bent on death?
[To the Confpirators. Once more I offer mercy. When the torture Cracks all your finews and disjoints your bones, And death grins on you, arm'd with all his terrors, "Twill loose your stubborn tongue. Know ye this man? Hyd. We know him not; nor why we wear these chains.
We ask no mercy, but appeal to justice.
Now you know all we know: lead to our dungeons.
[Ex. Hyd. and Confpirators, guarded.
Orba. How have you wrong'd the prince! these
fhameful irons
Should not difgrace the hands of innocence.
Let's fet him free.
Ara. This is all artifice,
To let their leader 'fcape. Guards, take him hence,
And let him be confin'd till further orders.
Soph. Who fhall plead for me in a foreign land!
My words will find no faith; for I'm a stranger:
And who holds friendship with adverfity?
So fate may do its worft. I'm tir'd of life.
[Exit, guarded.
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.
Straight let us to the king, and learn his pleasure.
Juftice is ours, but mercy's lodg'd in him.
Orba. I never can believe the prince fo vile
To mix with common murderers and affaffins.
I think him virtuous, and I fhare his fuff'rings.
All generous fouls muft ftrong reluctance find,
In heaping, forrows on th' afflicted mind.
SCENE, The Queen's Apartment.
OW expectation can prolong an hour,
And make it seem a day! a tedious day!
What not yet come! the wonted hour is paft:
In vain I turn my eye from walk to walk,
Sophernes is not there.-Here, every morn
I watch his penfive fteps along the garden,
And gaze and wish till I am loft in love!
What not yet come! But hark! methinks I hear
The found of 'feet! How my heart pants and flutters!
No. "Twas the wind that fhook yon cyprefs boughs.
Where are my views of wealth, of power, of ftate?
[Rifes.
They're blotted from my mind. I've loft ambition.
O love, thou haft me all. My dreams, my thoughts,
My every wish is center'd in Sophernes.
Hence, Shame, thou rigid tyrant of our fex,
I throw thee off- -and I'll avow my paffion.
Dorafpe. I can bear to think no longer.
Enter Dorafpe.
Dor. Why fits the queen thus overcast with thought ? Is majesty all plac'd in outward pomp?
Is it a queen, to have fuperior cares?
And to excell in forrows and diftreffes ?
'Tis in your power to have fuperior pleasures, And feel yourself a queen.
Aft. This mighty empire
I know I do command, and him that rules it.
That was a pleasure once, but now 'tis past!
To you alone I have disclos'd my heart.
I know you faithful.
Dor. What avails my fervice?
Can I redress you? can I calm your mind?
Aft. Thou know'ft, Dorafpe, amidst all this power,
That I'm a flave, the very worst of flaves.
The yoke of bondage, and the dungeon's horrors,
Are eafy fuff'rings, if compar'd with mine.
I am confin'd to dwell with one I hate,
Confin'd for life to fuffer naufeous love,
Like a poor mercenary prostitute :
His fondness is my torture.
Dor. Love is a pleasure for inferior minds;
Your lot is rais'd above that vulgar paffion.
Ambition is the pleafure of the great,
That fills the heart, and leaves no room for love. Think you're a queen, enjoy your pomp, your power; Love is the paradife of fimple thepherds.
You hold a fceptre.
Aft. O infipid greatness !
She who has never lov'd, has never liv'd.
All other views are artificial pleasures
For fluggish minds, incapable of love.
My foul is form'd for this fublimer paffion :
My heart is temper'd for the real joy;
I figh, I pant, I burn, I'm fick of love!
Yes, Media, Irenounce thy purple honours.
Farewell the pomp, the pageantry of ftate,
Farewell ambition, and the luft of empire;
I've now no paffion, no defire but love.
O may my eyes have power!-I ask no more.
Where ftays Sophernes? Were he now before me,
My tongue fhould own what oft my eyes have spoke,
For love has humbled pride.-Why this intrufion?
Who call'd you here a witness to my frailties?
Away and leave me.
Aft. Dorafpe, ftay. Excufe this ftart of paffion;
My mind is torn with wishes, doubts, and fears;
I had forgot myfelf.-Should fortune frown,
And tear the diadem from off my brow,
Couldst thou be follower of my adverse fortune?
I think thou couldft.
Dor. If I might give that proof,
Without your fufferings, I could wish the trial;
So firm I know my heart.
Aft. Life, like the seasons,
Is intermix'd with fun-fhine days and tempests.
Profperity has many thousand friends;
They fwarm around us in our fummer hours,
But vanish in the form.
Dor. What means my queen,
To wound her faithful fervant with fufpicion ?
Aft. Whene'er my mind is vex'd and torn with troubles,
In thee I always find the balm of counfel:
And can I then mistrust thee? No, Dorafpe,
Sufpicion ne'er with-held a thought from thee,
Thou know'ft the clofe receffes of my heart:
And now, ev'n now, I fly to thee for comfort.
Dor. How my foul longs to learn the queen's
commands !
Aft. When conqueft over-power'd my father's legions,
We were made captives of the war together;
Phraortes faw me," rais'd me to his throne;
Heav'n knows with what reluctance I confented! For my heart loath'd him. But, O curs'd ambition I gave myself a victim to his love,
To be a queen, the outfide of a queen.
I then was, what I'm now, a wretch at heart!
Whene'er I was condemn'd to hours of dalliance,
All Media's gems lay glitt'ring at my feet,
To buy a fmile, and bribe me to compliance.
But what's ambition, glory, riches, empire?
The wish of mifers, and old doating courtiers;
My heart is fill'd with love-Go, my Dorafpe,
Enquire the caufe that has detain'd Sophernes
From his accultom'd walk-I'm fix'd, determin'd,
To give up all for love. A life of love.
With what impatience fhall I wait thy coming!
Dor. Happy Sophernes !
Aft. If you chance to meet him,
Talk of me to him, watch his words, his eyes;
Let all you fay be turn'd to weak defire;
Prepare him for the happy interview,
For my heart bursts, and I must tell it all.
To what an abject state am I reduc'd?
To proffer love! Was beauty given for this?
Yes. "Tis more gen'rous; and I'll freely give
What kneeling monarchs had implor'd in vain.
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