The Prince Of Parthia Part 20

BARZAPHERNES.

The tale requires some time; And opportunity must not be lost; Your traitor Brother, who usurps your rights, Must, ere his faction gathers to a head, Have from his brows his new-born honours torn.

ARSACES.

What, dost thou say, murther'd by Vardanes?

Impious parricide!--detested villain!-- Give me a sword, and onward to the charge, Stop gushing tears, for I will weep in blood, And sorrow with the groans of dying men.-- Revenge! revenge!--oh!--all my soul's on fire!

GOTARZES.

'Twas not Vardanes struck the fatal blow, Though, great in pow'r usurp'd, he dares support The actor, vengeful Lysias; to his breast He clasps, with grateful joy, the b.l.o.o.d.y villain; Who soon meant, with ruffian wiles, to cut You from the earth, and also me.

ARSACES.

Just heav'ns!-- But, gentle Brother, how didst thou elude The vigilant, suspicious, tyrant's craft?

GOTARZES.

Phraates, by an accident, obtain'd The knowledge of the deed, and warn'd by him I bent my flight toward the camp, to seek Protection and revenge; but scarce I'd left The city when I o'ertook the Gen'ral.

BARZAPHERNES.

Ere the sun 'rose I gain'd th' intelligence: The soldiers when they heard the dreadful tale, First stood aghast, and motionless with horror.

Then suddenly, inspir'd with n.o.ble rage, Tore up their ensigns, calling on their leaders To march them to the city instantly.

I, with some trusty few, with speed came forward, To raise our friends within, and gain your freedom.

Nor hazard longer, by delays, your safety.

Already faithful Phraates has gain'd A num'rous party of the citizens; With these we mean t' attack the Royal Palace, Crush the bold tyrant with surprise, while sunk In false security; and vengeance wreck, Ere that he thinks the impious crime be known.

ARSACES.

O! parent being, Ruler of yon heav'n!

Who bade creation spring to order, hear me.

What ever sins are laid upon my soul, Now let them not prove heavy on this day, To sink my arm, or violate my cause.

The sacred rights of Kings, my Country's wrongs, The punishment of fierce impiety, And a lov'd Father's death, call forth my sword.--

Now on; I feel all calm within my breast, And ev'ry busy doubt is hush'd to rest; Smile heav'n propitious on my virtuous cause, Nor aid the wretch who dares disdain your laws.

_End of the Fourth Act._

ACT V.

SCENE I. _The Palace._

_The Curtain rises, slowly, to soft music, and discovers EVANTHE sleeping on a sofa; after the music ceases, VARDANES enters._

VARDANES.

Now shining Empire standing at the goal, Beck'ns me forward to increase my speed; But, yet, Arsaces lives, bane to my hopes, Lysias I'll urge to ease me of his life, Then give the villain up to punishment.

The shew of justice gains the changeling croud, Besides, I ne'er will harbour in my bosom Such serpents, ever ready with their stings-- But now one hour for love and fair Evanthe-- Hence with ambition's cares--see, where reclin'd, In slumbers all her sorrows are dismiss'd, Sleep seems to heighten ev'ry beauteous feature, And adds peculiar softness to each grace.

She weeps--in dreams some lively sorrow pains her-- I'll take one kiss--oh! what a balmy sweetness!

Give me another--and another still-- For ever thus I'd dwell upon her lips.

Be still my heart, and calm unruly transports.-- Wake her, with music, from this mimic death.

[_Music sounds._

SONG.

Tell me, Phillis, tell me why, You appear so wond'rous coy, When that glow, and sparkling eye, Speak you want to taste the joy?

Prithee, give this fooling o'er, Nor torment your lover more.

While youth is warm within our veins, And nature tempts us to be gay, Give to pleasure loose the reins, Love and youth fly swift away.

Youth in pleasure should be spent, Age will come, we'll then repent.

EVANTHE [_waking_].

I come, ye lovely shades--Ha! am I here?

Still in the tyrant's palace? Ye bright pow'rs!

Are all my blessings then but vis'onary?

Methought I was arriv'd on that blest sh.o.r.e Where happy souls for ever dwell, crown'd with Immortal bliss; Arsaces led me through The flow'ry groves, while all around me gleam'd Thousand and thousand shades, who welcom'd me With pleasing songs of joy--Vardanes, ha!--

VARDANES.

Why beams the angry lightning of thine eye Against thy sighing slave? Is love a crime?

Oh! if to dote, with such excess of pa.s.sion As rises e'en to mad extravagance Is criminal, I then am so, indeed.

EVANTHE.

Away! vile man!--

VARDANES.

If to pursue thee e'er With all the humblest offices of love, If ne'er to know one single thought that does Not bear thy bright idea, merits scorn--

EVANTHE.

Hence from my sight--nor let me, thus, pollute Mine eyes, with looking on a wretch like thee, Thou cause of all my ills; I sicken at Thy loathsome presence--

VARDANES.

'Tis not always thus, Nor dost thou ever meet the sounds of love With rage and fierce disdain: Arsaces, soon, Could smooth thy brow, and melt thy icy breast.

EVANTHE.

Ha! does it gall thee? Yes, he could, he could; Oh! when he speaks, such sweetness dwells upon His accents, all my soul dissolves to love, And warm desire; such truth and beauty join'd!