XERXES, A TRAGEDY, As it is ACTED at the NEW THEATRE in Little Lincoln's-Inn Fields.  
Written by C. CIBBER.  
Quot Homines, Tota Sententiae.  
LONDON, Printed, and are to be Sold by john Nutt, near Stationers-Hall 1699.   

To my Worthy Friend SAMUEL adam's OF WOLVERTON Gent.  
I Can't tell why an Old Friend and Kinsman, should not give a Man as good a Title to a Dedication, as a fine Coat, and a great Periwig; Two Qualities, that of late, are thought as strictly Requisite in a Fashionable Patron, as a Clap, and a Duel, to the completing a Gentleman.  
And indeed, it's no wonder that our late Plays are so Barren, since we generally see our Authors reserve their Gall and satire, for their Dedications, where they seem to smile in the Patron's Face; and are civilly calling him Coxcomb, by a long Repetition of those Virtues, which Half the Town is heartily convinced, he is not the least Tainted with: And thus, (as Apelles displeased with his Painting an Horse's Foam, gave it the most heightening Touch, by throwing his Pencil at it in a Fury) these Gentlemen that are so very tame, and civil in their satire, are most Satirical in their Panegyrics, and never so completely show a Fop, as when they are hardest at work upon the fine Gentleman.  
Now, my end in sending you this Play with your Name to't, was purely to let pou see, that I still take a Pleasure in thinking of you, though at this Distance; and (if you find it worth a Room in your Closet) that it might now and then, put you in Mind of the Author: Besides, I owe you many Thanks for your Care of my Brother, and wish I had a more effectual way of returning them; in the mean time, be pleased to take this Present in part of Payment; though I am apt to believe, should I be ever Paying, I shall never be out of your Debt; for even your protection of this Trifle is running on fresh Score: For, whatever Fortune Xerxes may have found in Town, I knew your Name would be the surest means to give him a Favourable Reception in the Country; and though the Ladies thereabouts should think it but a dull Afternoons Entertainment in itself; yet, if you happen to be by at the Reading, it will at least be diverting in the Consequence: For even Poetry can't make you Ill Company: They'll want no Music between the Acts, having the Relief of your Conversation; and they must certainly be deeply in Love with something out of their reach, if that can't put 'em in Tune: For what Company, though never so dulled, does not feel a new Life when you come into it, or is not Dead when you leave it? What Child, what Man, or (what's no little Wonder) what Woman is not pleased with you, which they are seldom known to be with any Man, that has so long forborn to Compliment some one of their Sex with his Freedom? Yet so far you do Compliment 'em too; Your not Marrying, is more than a Probability, that you will never meet with an Occasion to have an Hearty Quarrel with any of them. Thus, with a little Expense of your Good Humour, you Purchase the Favour of that Sex, at the same time giving them Security, that you never will be their Enemy, by Loving any one of them too well; if every one's Love be any step to Happiness, there wants but the another's Half of the World's knowing you, to make you the Happiest Man in it: While you are Master of such an Easy Fortune, no Wiseman but must approve your Choice: You have Preserved your Liberty, and Tasted it; and how good a Friend soever you are to the Bottle, yet your worst of Enemies can't but still own that your a Bachelor, and no Poet: You never yet were so far overtaken, that you either Married, or Writ Verses; which that you never may, (without any Compliment to the Ladies) is (while Yours) the Real Wish, of  
SIR,  
April 20th. 1699.  
Your Obliged Friend and Kinsman,  
C. CIBBER.   

THE PROLOGUE.  Spoken by Mr. Batterton. 

LOng have we strove, with Passion and Grimace,  
To show you Vice and virtue's differing Face:  
virtue's Reward has wooed you to its Charms;  
And Vice exposed, should laugh you from its Arms.  
Virtue we vainly offer to your Taste;  
Tired with Instruction, and Agog for jest,  
Y' abhor the wholesome Plainness of the Feast.  
In vain on Poisonous Vice would satire trample;  
For what you should contemn, is your Example:  
In vain we wear the Buskin, or the Sandal;  
Your judging false makes our Instruction Scandal.  
The Wife provoked to wrong her Husband's Bed,  
Was meant his Cure, by punishing his Head:  
But you from hence, not kind, but jealous grow;  
Think all Wives false, when Usage makes 'em so:  
Reform the Brute, you keep the Woman true.  
The Powdered Fop, for Drawling Speech, and Dress,  
Exposed, shall laugh: But then so likes his Face,  
He dresses in the Stage's Looking-Glass.  
The High-kept Miss, when shown the Fate of jilting,  
Smiles! Gets a new Spark— sets Fools a Tilting.  
A second Time she's warned, and so improves,  
Till in due Time about the Pit she roves,  
Reduced to Doily's Stuff, no Stays, and dirty Gloves.  
Thus even sage Collier too might be accused,  
If what he's writ's through Ignorance abused.  
Girls may read him, not for the Truth he says,  
But to be pointed to the Bawdy Plays:  
Far be't to think such his Intention was.  
Thus even sound Physic, if wrong taken, shall  
Inflame Diseases, which it meant to heal:  
Now; though Men die, Physic has Virtue still.  
Would you but come with Minds attentive bent  
To laugh at Follies, Vices to resent;  
Warned by the Dangers painted, would you learn  
To shun abroad what's here the Wise Man's Scorn;  
Calm would he then the Zealot's hasty Rage;  
And good Men, Fearless, might support the Stage:  
Then, as at Athens, to learn virtue's Rules,  
Crowds might we hope for from deserted Schools,  
To see our Labours, by just Laws allowed;  
And Public Treasures pay for Public Good:  
Like them encouraged, we like them might write;  
Athenian Hearers raised Athenian Wit.  
In favour then of us, begin to day  
To make a just Construction of a Play:  
So shall the impious Xerxes' Terror move  
The chaste Tamira's Tears from Ruined Love.  
His first Attempt for Virtue you approved;  
But now, fair Nymphs, by nobler Passion moved,  
Our Author has to your just Praise designed  
A brighter Image of your Sex's Mind.    

The EPILOGUE.  

TO Friends, or Foes, whatever Fortune sends him,  
Gallants, our Author thus, in short, commends him.  
If from his present Dulness, Sirs, you fear  
The Danger of his Writing once a Year,  
To cure his future Itch of Writing Ill,  
Now Headlong throw him to the Muses Hell.  
But if from what you've seen, your Thoughts incline,  
That any Sparks of Heat or Genius shine,  
Let lose your Favours, wave Poetic Laws;  
And to your Wishes, swell him with Applause.    

The Persons.  

Xerxes, King of Persia. Mr. Verbruggen.  
Mardonius, Attabanus, His Generals. Mr. Hodgson. Mr. Betterton.  
Aranthes, A Commander. Mr. Scudamore.  
Memnon, Artabanus' Lieutenant. Mr. Freeman,  
Cleontes, the King's Creature. Mr. Thurmond,  
Poet. An Impudent Fellow. Mr. Boin.  
Tamira, Wife to Artabanus. Mrs. Berry.  
Maskers, Magi, Soldiers, etc.   
The Scene PERSIA.   

XERXES.  

ACT I. The Scene, Near Xerxes' Palace.  Enter Mardonius and Aranthes. Aran. 
HAVE Patience, brave Mardonius.  Mar. 
Patience! 'Tis the Coward's Virtue.  
I'm a Soldier brought up in Arms;  
And when the noble End of Life is gone;  
My Country's Honour lost; my King with shame repulsed;  
Our Foes insulting; we still hopeless of Revenge;  
Where is there room for Patience?  Aran. 
I am a Soldier, Sir.  Mar. 
Then talk like one.  Aran. 
I would not talk; the Tongue's a Woman's weapon;  
While there's a Greek on Earth, my Arm shall speak my Thoughts.  Mar. 
Why didst thou mention Patience then?  Aran. 
Because I knew 'twould Anger you.  
I bat opposed you, like a rapid Stream,  
To make you Foam and Rowl with double force.  Mar. 
O'er whom?  Aran. 
Th' Athenians! Think on Salamis;  
In that deep Sea, the Persian Honour sunk.  
'Twas there our dazzling Sun, Great Xerxes' Glory, set for ever.  Mar. 
Confusion!  Aran. 
Does then the Name of Salamis offend you?  Mar. 
Furies and Hell! Canst thou be pleased to hear it?  Aran. 
I am— To hear it does offend you.  
And now I've raised you to my End proposed,  
I've that shall keep your brave Resentment warm.  
Read there the List of our surviving Troops,  [Giving a Scroll. 
Which I with utmost care have joined;  
If yet you think it not too late to Head 'em,  
To Morrow's Sun shall see a General Muster,  
Where every Face will speak an Heart resolved:  
'Tis true, they're scarce an Handful  
To the Numbers we set out with; yet still  
A brave Revenge, Revenge for Glory lost,  
Is such an animating Cause,  
As must inspire our Arms with double Fury.  Mar. 
Ay, now the Soldier speaks! This Talk becomes thee;  
Methinks the Voice of Fate informs me now▪  
That proud Themistocles shall dearly buy  
His boasted Spoils of Persia.  
My Heart's on fire at the reviving Thought,  
And bounds to be in Action.  
No more remains, but that we seek the Drooping King,  
And Form him for the vast Exploit.  Aran. 
Brave Artabanus is in search of him;  
'Tis said, on Information, that the Enemy  
Had a Design to hinder his Retreat;  
He Posted privately to th' Hellespont,  
But ere he could arrive a furious Storm  
Had quite dispersed his Bridge of ships,  
And that way stopped his Passage;  
How he Escaped, I hear not.  
See, Sir, Artabanus comes;  
We probably may learn of him.  Enter Artabanus Dejected. 
My Lord! You're Welcome! Doubly Welcome now, but say,  
How have the Gods disposed our Master Xerxes?  Mar. 
If thou canst utter'ought,  
That may advance our eager Hopes, be bold,  
And let thy Words come forth, as if the Fate  
Of Greece were lodged upon thy Tongue;  
For know Mardonius stands with you resolved  
On brave Revenge, or Death.  Art. 
Then Welcome Death, for brave Revenge is lost.  Mar. 
What! while our Lives are Ours?  Art. 
Nothing is ours: Xerxes is no more Himself.  Mar. 
I grant Thermopylae and Salamis  
Have Altered him—  
But yet he lives, and while he lives there's hope.  Art. 
Far less, than even his Death could give us:  
'Tis true his Body crawls, and drags  
A Frantic Being, his Soul is drowned in lethe  
Insensible, and deaf to Glory, or Dishonour,  
O! were it possible my Silence could  
Conceal his shame; By Heaven  
This loyal Hand should stop my Tongue for ever.  Mar. 
Amazement seizes me, relate the Scene,  
For my impatient Soul's all Ear to know  
The Worst, that Fate can Threaten.  Art. 
Behold him then this fatal Monarch Xerxes  
Late Universal Master of the Earth and Seas:  
First of so Formidable, so vast an Army,  
That as they moved, whole Rivers still were drained,  
To quench 'em on their thirsty March.  
Th' or'e-bundened Earth grew weary of her Load,  
And when they closed their Squadrons groaned to bear 'em.  Mar. 
By Arms a glorious Host, and wanting nothing but an Head.  Art. 
And that, Alas! grown weak the noble Body dies:  
Even by an handful at the Famed Thermopylae.  
(Famed indeed to Grecian Glory) 'twas mangled All,  
Most shamefully subdued, and lost.  Mar. 
Nothing, but a Xerxes, could ha' lost 'em.  Art. 
Behold him yet a second time,  
The Master of his Fate: A Fleet so numerous,  
Their vast Provision left a raging Famine on  
The Neighbouring Coasts: The spacious Earth  
Was stripped of Men, and Women tilled the Ground,  
Even the wide Element of Air could scarce  
Afford 'em Breath to fill their swelling Sails:  
By Arms a glorious Body too; Invincible  
To Mortal Thought: But conscious Heaven  
Foreseeing, while it thus bestrid the Seas,  
It must in Time have led the Earth in Chains,  
Decreed it Xerxes for the fatal Head,  
And that way Tottered it to Ruin:  
And now behold the amazing Change of Greatness!  
By Heaven, it strikes my Soul to think  
This awful Man, that Mustered half the World  
In Arms, at Salamis should be Reduced  
So low, that even a common Fisherboat  
Without one Slave, to wait his Nod was All  
He could Command, to save his Person in a shameful Flight.  Mar. 
Were't not for shame, my Eyes would melt to hear  
The moving Tale: But Tears are too Effeminate, No!  
Let Girls, and Lovers weep! A Soldier should  
Resent his Fate: Why dost thou fold thy Arms,  
And sighing shake thy Head? Is there beyond  
This shameful Flight yet more of shame?  
For that's the only pain, that galls a Soldier.  Art. 
There is (alas!) and a severe one too! His Vain  
His Proud, (and what the History of Man  
Could never Parallel) his Monstrous Resolution  
After Flight: He says he made th' Athenians Fly,  
He lost no Battle! Greece still Trembles at his Name,  
In Arms more Famed than ever,  
And that the Envious World should know,  
And when amazed I urged the contrary,  
He turned away, and talked to Sycophants  
Who as I spoke, still soothed his lethargy:  
To sum the Tale, in spite of all Opposing sense,  
He has resolved to enter Persia,  
In a splendid Triumph, I saw him move  
Amidst his shameful Pageantry, in all  
The Haughty Pride, and State of an Insutling  
Conqueror; Poor Slaves, and Vagabonds are Hired,  
To Personate the seeming Captives of  
A Real Victory; vast Empty Coffers,  
Supposed of Treasure taken from the Enemy,  
High Castled Elephants, Rich Gilded Trophies,  
Spoils, and Armour, Trumpets, and Songs prepare his way,  
The People stare upon the gaudy show,  
And Rend the Skies with Echoed Welcomes:  
While he in solemn Pace stalks Proudly on,  
And even out swells the Hero of a Theatre.  Aran. 
O Vile Disgrace of Arms! A Triumph! Hell!  Mar. 
Impossible!  Art. 
Then it can't be true: Would it were not.  Mar. 
Gods!— No more! I'll haste, and stop this Vile Procession,  
Charge his Folly home; my Honest Tongue,  
Even from this Precipice of Towering Pride  
Shall break his Fall, and catch him back to Glory.  [Exiturus. Art. 
Yet stay, my Lord, this Rashness may be Fatal;  
'Tis Madness to oppose the Mad, (For so  
Indeed you'll find him) let this Fit of his  
Wild Frenzy pass; (I'm sure 't must have an Interval)  
Let's take him in his cooler Thoughts;  
To Morrow were a fitter time.  Mar. 
You have Instructed me: 'Tis well! To Morrow then.  Aran. 
What if we mingled with the Crowd to see him pass?  Art. 
I think 'twere well, to observe his Actions,  
That we know to chide him.  Mar. 
Do you your Pleasure:  
For me, I dare not trust my Temper.  
I know 'twould burst, and ruin all: Farewell.  [Exit. Art. Art. 
Hark, the Trumpets speak him near at hand;  
And see the Pageantry appears!  [They stand a part.] Enter Cleontes, and a Poet preparing the way, and ordering the Chorus for the Triumphal Song. Aran. 
What are these?  Art. 
The same I told you were so busy with the King,  
While I exclaimed against this Mad Solemnity:  
That cringing Spark, now the Rough War is done,  
Has purchased a Commission in the standing Guard;  
The other is a Mongrel Poet,  
That never writ a Verse he did not like,  
Nor e'er liked any more, than those the World had damned:  
The Vulgar with his Madrigals are caught by th' Ears,  
Excessive Impudence thrusts him into the Court:  
And there they laugh to hear him praise himself.  Aran. 
Him I guess to be the Orderer of this Days Foolery;  
What a Chorus too: We shall be entertained anon!  Art. 
Peace, le's observe 'em,  [They stand apart.] Cleo. 
O Glorious Day, were ever seen such Crowds  
Of pleased Spectators!  Poet. 
Ah! Happy People! Happy Xerxes!  
Now we shall turn the Glass of Time,  
And make it run the Golden Age again.  Cleo. 
Now Merit will have leave to show her Head,  
All Arts and Industry, the heaven-born Gift  
Of Poetry shall Flourish,  
And Men of Wit, like you, shall be rewarded:  
Believe me, Sir, You Grace the Laurel,  
Great Xerxes did it Honour, when he placed it there.  Poet. 
I think so.  Cleo. 
You'll be the Envy of Parnassus.  Poet. 
I always was, Sir: For d'ye observe me,  
While other Fools were drudging, to acquire  
A Name by the Pathetic, and the Dull sublime:  
I unthought of, o'er a Bottle, would now and then  
Surprise them with my Madrigals, my Songs,  
My Whimms, and Knick-Knacks  
Carried the Vogue of Town and Court before me;  
Whipped off the Laurel from Despairing Brows,  
And by the Hand of Merit fixed it on my own.  Cleo. 
Were it not time the Paean should be Sung?  
we're just upon the Palace.  Poet. 
Yes, Sir, it shall be sung, and Gloriously,  
When I give the Word: I love to have 'em  
Wait a little, it makes 'em take  
The more notice of me— Now sound, ye Slaves!  
That all the World may Hear— my Words.  Cleo. 
Prepare, the King approaches.  The Chorus being hanged on each side the Stage, Enter Loyalty, Love, Peace and Plenty. After a Martial Symphony, Loyalty Sings. Loyalty. 
PRepare, blessed Sons of Art, prepare  
To Raise the Thundering Voice of War:  
Sing! sing! and sound the Hero's Fame,  
Let Warlike Notes, his Warlike Deeds Proclaim.  Chorus. 
Sing, sing, etc.  Loy. 
Now cease the Noise, and while we meet him,  
Let Love and softer joys make haste to greet him.  Love Advances. Love. 
Welcome Hero from the Toils of War!  
Welcome! as Rest to Pains and Care:  
Welcome! as kind returning Day,  
To Souls that door the Night away!  
Welcome! as Hope to Lovers in Dispair.  Chorus. 
Welcome Hero from the Toils of War!  Peace and Plenty comes forward. Peace & Plenty. 
See! see! what softer Blessings wait  
The Happy Triumph of the Great;  
Peace and Plenty fly before him;  
Peace and Plenty make Mankind adore him;  
Peace and Plenty Tune his Soul to Love,  
And give below, a Taste of joys above.  Grand Chorus. 
Give him on Earth ye Powers, long Love and Peace,  
And after Death Immortal Bliss.  The Song ended. Enter Trumpets sounding, a Train of Captive Kings and Princes, Women and Children, several Nobles bearing Palms, Soldiers with Spoils and Trophies: Then Xerxes Advances from the farther end of the Stage. Xer. 
Thus in despite of their resisting Fate,  
The unwilling Gods, those busy Rivals  
In my Rising Glory, are forced  
With sullen Envy to behold my Triumphs:  
Look from your Christial Battlements! look down  
Ye Powers amazed, to view a Soul unshaken  
By these baffled Storms of Chance! A Soul!  
That dares resolve to bear your utmost wrongs,  
And grapple with opposed Omnipotence.  Cleo. 
Thou Deity Adored! Immortal Xerxes' Hail!  [Kneeling. 
To Thee are held the lifted Hands of Persia  
When War or Tumult would molest her Quiet;  
To Thee she bends her Knee, in humble Gratitude  
For Foes subdued:  
Let every Head bow down, and kiss the Earth  
That bears him to our view: Soldiers and Children  
Virgins and Lovers! All without distinction kneel  
Yet lower, prostrate as the Veil of Night,  
That wraps the Globe in Darkness: Down! Bow down,  
And kiss the Earth with Adoration.  All fall upon their Faces, but Mardonius and Aranthes, who stand unseen. The Sun appears Or'ecast here. Art. 
O shame to Glory!  Aran. 
Incredible Stupidity!  Aside. Xer. 
Now by my yet untasted Joys of Power,  
This looks a God— It is!  
For see! The dazzled Sun contracts  
His Golden Beams, he hides his Face and Blushes  
To behold a Rival Power above him.  Art. 
Gods! How his drunken Fancy swells him.  [Aside. Xer. 
Ha! What means this sudden Face of Death?  
How fell these heaps of prostrate Bodies?  
O Spleenful Fate! They're dead! Malicious Planet!  
Am I left alone to Rule, the Monarch  
Of an Un-peopled World?— 'Tis well ye Powers,  
Your dire Decrees shall be obeyed! Up! Up!  
From your sleepy Graves! Rise all! Revive and take  
New Life, from Power to give it.  Aran. 
Amazing Frenzy!  [Aside. Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
Dread Sir, the Reverend Magi are at hand,  
And come with Pious Joy, to Gratulate your Triumphs.  Xer. 
Let 'em come on, and we approve their Zeal.  Enter the Magi. 1. Mag. 
Long live Victorious Xerxes!  
Thou Dread Commissioner of Fate, in whom  
Th' Allknowing God's repose, the Care and Business  
Of the World below: From thee, Mankind receives  
Its Happiness so fast, our Prayers to Heaven  
Are still but Thanks, for Benefits enjoyed.  2. Mag. 
Thou Sacred Head! Instruct us to be Grateful  
Both to the Gods, and Thee; What Hecatombs  
Are due for this Auspicious Day?  
How shall we thank the ever Glorious Sun,  
For such a King? What Vows? What Offerings too  
Are due to Neptune?  
Who through the dangerous Seas,  
Has thus returned thee safe to Persia?  
O say: Where shall we find out Victims  
Worthy of their Altars?  Xer. 
How now! Priesthood? Is this the way,  
Your fawning Piety would soothe an injured King?  
Have not those Powers Alarmed by Sea and Land,  
Opposed my spreading Glory? Am I not  
Xerxes still, and must at last ignobly sue  
For Peace, by a precarious Sacrifice?  
Yes Slaves, I'll Feast your Gods Adored;  
They shall have Offerings Priests! they shall!  
Th' injurious Sun, the Seas and Wind that saw,  
That sunk and scattered my stupendious Navy,  
Shall feel the Vengeance of a Rousing Deity.  
Give Order that the Wind receive Three Hundred Lashes,  
Let Fleeting Aeolus be whipped from Pole to Pole,  
Then drive him to some hollow Cell confined, and tell  
The Roaring God, his Master Xerxes is revenged!  1. Mag. 
O Impious Thought! Avert this Madness, Heaven!  Xex. 
How now! What would your Grave Devotion startle me?  
Away draw out an able Band of Archers,  
Mount 'em on the Battlements of you lofty Tower,  
And let 'em shoot a Thousand Arrows 'gainst the Sun.  2. Mag. 
O Blasphemy!  Xer. 
As many Chains be thrown into the Sea,  
And bind the Blue haired Neptune to a Rock!  
Prepare an hundred Bars of vast hot glaring Iron,  
Then plung 'em hissing down  
Into the burning Bowels of the Deep;  
And while his scalding Billows, boil and foam  
With raging Torture;  
There let him Rave, and dash his battered Limbs,  
Like a despairing Slave for ever.  
Away! Take all the Wings of swift Revenge,  
And see my Will performed! Now Priests!  
Are these fit Offerings for your Mighty Powers?  
I could not stay to send 'em with your lazy Prayers  
To Heaven, your wanton Thoughts have dipped their Wings  
Too deep, in Pleasures of the Earth, to let 'em mount so high.  
Where's all their Idle Bolts, their brandished Lightning now,  
To blast the Man that dares oppose 'em?  2. Mag. 
While Frantic Passions talk so wild and loud,  
The Voice of Reason is of little force:  
But still remember, King,  
Tho' while you live the Gods retard your doom,  
Yet after death, a sure Revenge will come.  Xer. 
Away! ye senseless Dreamers of the World to come,  
Who dare pretend to fright Mankind with Tales,  
Of what shall happen after Death:  
But yet can give us no account of what  
The Soul endured, before it put on Flesh!  
Hence from my Sight and Thoughts for ever!  
begone ye expensive Lumber of the World!  [Exeunt Magi. [A shout at a distance.] Cleo. 
Behold Great Sir! A Thousand skilful Archers,  
From you High Spacious Tower,  
A loud Proclaiming War against the Sun:  
They brace their stubborn Bows, and look  
Resolved, to make their Arrows reach him.  [Thunder. Xer. 
By jove they're there! Ha! what means this Rising Storm?  
By all my Power unshaken, my Foes above are startled  
At my daring Fury; I'll stand and view  
The Godlike War? See! how the Fleeting Winds  [Lowdor. 
Are posted to the Sun, with Tidings of  
Impending danger! Hark! the dreadful News  
Is told, in Peals of bursting Thunder! Ha!  
By Arms the Noble Charge is given!  [The Stage is darkened. 
For see! th' Alarmed God retires!  
He dares not climb the Skies, he Reins his fiery Steeds!  
He stops! he turns 'em back, and rattles down  [Lightning. 
The Eastern Hill of Heaven! see! see!  [Falling 
How the foaming Coursers Flounce and Tear,  
And dash the spangled Skies behind 'em!  [A shower of 
Now by my own Immortal Soul: I'll mount  
The burning Car myself. I'll have it drawn  
By slow-paced Elephants, and every gladsome Day  
Shall shine a Year:  
New Order, new Seasons shall be born,  
Even from the womb of this stupendious darkness,  
New Nature shall arise, and bless the World  
With one Eternal Spring!  [The Sky is cleared. Cleo. 
Ha! The Sun appears again! I'll Humour his Extravagance.  
See, Sacred Sir, 'tis done! Behold  
A new born Light adorns the Skies,  
And seems t'applaud your vast Creating Thought.  Xer. 
Ha! 'Tis so! The harassed Gods are weary of the Fray:  
Why, let 'em rest, and now alone  
The business of the Earth shall fill my Thoughts:  
Draw near, ye Royal Captives of my Terestial War,  
And listen to pronouncing Fate! No longer now,  
The Chains of Victory, shall gall your Valiant Minds;  
Your future Bonds shall all be Love;  
For ever now be free! be safe! Xerxes  
Is no more your Foe!  
No more the Toils of War shall break my Slumbers,  
The Lust of Conquest shall Inflame me now no more,  
Nor Fate shall dare to cross my Will, which thus  
Resolves to give Mankind a General Peace,  The Captives are unbound, and the People shout. 
And roll the wanton Globe in Pleasure.  
And now to spread my Resolution through  
The spacious World, here I Proclaim, to any Head  
That shall invent a new untasted Draught  
Of Luxury, Rewards unlimited,  
The Earth and Sea, shall throw their Treasure up  
To make him Happy——  
Let Young Fledged Heroes court the noise of War,  
And starve their Pleasures: But to feed their Care,  
Let fond Ambition's Wing still scorn to rest,  
Still soar to Prey, without desire to taste:  
For me more solid Bliss my Days shall Crown.  
I'll taste the Pleasures which my Arms have won;  
Eternal Sping of Love, and Gustful Joy  
Shall feed my ravished Sense, without the power to Cloy.   

ACT II. The Scene, Xerxes' Palace.  Enter Cleontes and the Poet. Cleo. 
YOur Fortune rises, Sir, Your Muse has Charmed the King;  
After the Banquet, he intends to see  
The Mask performed: But what's a fairer Demonstration  
Of his Favour, I am commanded to entrust you  
With his secret Love— He much relies on you.  Poet. 
Possible! O ye Gods! A Pimp!  [Aside. 
Then my Prayers are heard! The Devil's in't  
If I don't thrive now!  
Her Name, Dear Sir?  
Her Name and Quality: I'll melt her down  
With a Distich: She shall be Rythmed to Raptures.  
Her Name, Sir:  Cleo. 
Her Name is Virtue, Sir.  Poet. 
Virtue! She does not belong to the Court, Sir, does she?  Cleo. 
That must be our care to find out: You know  
The King resolves to taste no common Pleasures;  
His Fancy therefore leads him to enjoy  
A Married Beauty, of untainted Virtue;  
One that dares defend her Honour,  
Against the utmost Storms of Fortune:  
Whom neither Threats, or Bribes of Power can shake,  
Nor all the subtle Arts of Languishing Desire.  Poet. 
Look you (not that I believe we shall) But  
Suppose we should find such a Lady? Pray  
What would his Majesty do with her?  Cleo. 
He'd first use all his Arts and Power to bend her Virtue,  
And if he found it yield, despise her;  
But if she stood his Love unmoved,  
Then Force should give him a Delight,  
Which her consent would Ruin.  Poet. 
O ho! Then it seems, his Majesty would  
Only have a Slash at her Virtue! Very Good!  
A Married Lady you say, that won't Cuckold  
Her Husband for Love or Money! Why now,  
After all, that must be a very odd  Cleo. 
Yet such a one there may be found, Sir.  
You know the Fair and Famed Tamira,  
The Wife of Noble Artabanus:  
The King, before her Marriage, was in Love with her,  
And often made Attempts upon her Honour:  
But meeting still severe Repulses,  
Offered her at last his Crown, and even That,  
She with the same Indifference rejected.  
The General on this was Banished, she followed him,  
And to the hazard of her Life, embraced his Fortune.  
The King at last, with Absence cured his Love;  
And wanting Soldiers for the War with Greece,  
Called Artabanus home, restored him to his Honours,  
And gave Tamira to his Arms: But he  
Remembers now afresh her former Cruelty;  
And resolutely Vows to satisfy  
His old Revenge, and the Remains of Love.  Poet. 
A satisfaction for the Gods above!  
But hark you Sir! Are you sure 'tis Artabanus' Wife?  Cleo. 
The same, I mentioned several,  
But most the King inclines to her.  Poet. 
By jove we'll Dub his Lordship then! we'll Dub him:  
Now my Revenge is perfect: He gave me  
Nothing for my last Dedication.  [Aside. Cleo. 
I guess the King expects her at the Mask.  
But see our General, and Artabanus with him,  
I like 'em not, they're Enemies to you and me.  Poet. 
Oh! Let me alone with 'em!  
You say the King has Positively  
Commanded none shall pass his Presence Armed?  Cleo. 
He has— I'll retire, and Inform him  
They are here, while you demand their Swords.  Enter Mardonius, Artabanus and Aranthes. Mar. 
What mean these double Guards?  Poet. 
Safety, Sir, Safety!  Mar. 
What art thou?  Poet. 
I am a Wit,  Art. 
I'll not take your word, Sir.  Aran. 
O 'twere Charity, my Lord, since he can't keep it.  Poet. 
I'll write no more Dedications, my Lord!  Art. 
'Tis well resolved. 'Twere Insolence  
To Libel Men of Honour: For what were't else,  
To tell the World they like a Muse,  
Which just before the world had Damned.  Poet. 
Your Lordship's Picture was not ill drawn before it.  Art. 
'Twas every where unlike me;  
Thou drewest my Honours all o'er white,  
Without one touch of shade to heighten it;  
It looked to me a flat insipid nothing.  Poet. 
The very Image of your Lordship's Gratuity.  Art. 
'Tis a vain Pride, not Gratitude Rewards  
The Undeserving; to Encourage thee  
Were an Affront to Real Merit.  
To the Presence— on my Lord!—  Poet. 
You must leave your Sword, Sir.  Mar. 
Who demands it?  Poet. 
Your Humble Servant, Sir.  Mar. 
Here, Take it Slave!  [Presenting the Point. Poet. 
Auh! not by the wrong Handle! I beseech you, Sir.  Mar. 
The meaning of this Insolence! You Gentlemen,  
Is it the King's Command?  Guard. 
My Lord, it is.  Art. 
'Tis likely, dispute it not my Lord! There Gentlemen!  They give their Swords. Mar. 
Gods! That a Man so great in Arms,  
Should ever know the guilt of Fear! See where he comes,  
Amidst his Court of Women now! O shameful Change.  Enter Xerxes, followed by a Train of Ladies, Cleontes in Discourse with him. Tamira amongst them. Xer. 
Did you see her say you?  Cleo. 
She follows in the Train, my Lord.  Xer. 
Let her be near us at the Mask; I would  
Appear a gentle Lover first, and try  
The force of Passion, and Heart wounding Eloquence;  
I know tho' Real, they would plead in vain;  
But, that 'tis heightens my delight: For when  
She thinks the Lamblike Lover, dying  
In the vain pursuit: The bounding Lion then  
Shall start, and drag th' unwilling Prey.  Aran. 
Health to your Majesty.  Xer. 
Aranthes welcome! welcome Artabanus,  
Valiant Mardonius welcome!  Mar. 
I never durst be a Coward, Sir— But now  
Methinks you should not know me for Mardonius.  
I used to wear a Sword!  Xer. 
O! 'Twere needless, unless you had Enemies.  Mar. 
There still are Grecians Living, Sir.  Xer. 
And they were born to live.  Mar. 
Yes, and Conquer too! Your Pardon, Sir,  
I love 'em not, tho' they deserve my Love.  Xer. 
Ha!  Art. 
Take heed, my Lord, your words have moved the King  Mar. 
Then does yours soften him? For I want Temper.  Xer. [Aside.] 
I'll find a fitter time to silence him.  
Such Men are hateful, and will oppose my Pleasures.  Art. 
We came to Entreat a private Hour with your Majesty.  Xer. 
The Court at present is disposed to Mirth  
And Pleasure: After the Mask I'm yours.  Aran. 
We'll Attend your Majesty.  Xer. 
Your Entertainment shall be soft  
And pleasing, what the Music wants, may be  
Supplied in Love: But that's a Feast, my Lord.  [Too Art. 
You never seek abroad, that are so sure  
A welcome Guest at home.  Art. 
I owe that Blessing, Sir, to your Indulgence;  
And see she's here! Your Majesty will pardon me?  Xer. 
'Tis your Duty, Sir: By Heaven  [Art. goes to Tam. 
He loves her, after four Years Enjoyment!  
Had she been mine, ere this I'd loathed  
The Sight of her— Not but she's Fairer, than the Beams of Day!  
Softer than a Lovers hope,— and Virtuous,— to an Insolence.  Tam. [Too Art.] 
I hope you'er not displeased, my Lord.  Art. 
No! But what was it brought you hither?  Tam. 
Indeed the hopes of seeing you.  Art. 
D'ye not fear the King should Gaze upon you?  Tam. 
If you fear it, I'll retire.  Art. 
No, 'twould be observed: But yet beware of him.  
He often dwells upon your Praise of late.  Tam. 
Indeed I'm sorry if it troubles you,  
Else could hear it with Indifference.  Xer. 
Come Sirs, our Entertainment waits us.  
Artabanus! You'll trust me near your Lady.  Art. 
That Trust will be her Protection, Sir.  Xer. 
Begin the Mask.  While a Symphony is Playing, Luxury arises sleeping on a Bed of Roses, and Mercury Enters to him. Mercury. 
Awake soft Luxury, awake  
The smiling Gods befriend thee,  
And with Pleasures here attend thee;  
Now Feast thy Senses, and Receive  
The sweetest joy, the Gods can give.  
Awake, etc.  The Scene Drawing, discovers several Deities, Attended by their several Pleasures: Cupid Advances. Cupid. 
With me, these Rival Gods contend,  
And Each asserts his Power to bless;  
Thy Voice alone the strife must end,  
Who knowest all Pleasures in Excess:  
And wanton Cupid comes to prove,  
Life has no joy like Lawless Love.  Luxury. 
What kind Reward shall I receive  
From them, to whom my Voice I give.  Cupid. 
That thou Unbribed mayst give thy Voice,  
Eternal Freedom to possess thy Choice.  
Mars advances to a Warlike Symphony.  Mars. 
Sound! sound! the Trumpet sound,  
The Warriors Soul Alarm!  
He Fights!— They Fly!— and now with Conquest Crown  
What God can give a Nobler Charm?  Lux. 
No more! no more! Ah throw thy Arms away:  
For with 'em Love shall Sport and Play;  
The Trumpet now shall softer sound,  
And swell, and weep, and gently wound.  
Hymen Descends.  Hymen. 
If softer Love can make thee Blessed,  
That Bliss in Marriage is possessed.  
Indifference Interrupts him.  Indiff. 
Away! away! no Life can be  
Like that, Mankind enjoys in me:  
Indifference is the happiest State,  
On which no Care or Sorrows wait,  
Nothing hating, nought admiring,  
Never Wanting, ne'er Requiring;  
Never Pining for Possession,  
Nor yet slighting kind Occasion;  
joy is welcome still to cheer me,  
Sorrow never shall come near me.  Mar. and Indiff. together. 
If Peaceful jows can make thee blessed,  
In him, or me they are possessed.  Lux. 
begone! Dull Pair, I cannot take,  
Or grant a joy in either:  
Be chained for ever Back to Back,  
And wander through the World together.  Chorus. 
begone Dull Pair, he cannot take, etc.  The Pleasures Bind Marriage and Indifference together, and drive them off the Stage: Then Venus advances, Venus. 
Would you know the sweetest joys,  
Which Virtue wisely keeps from Fools;  
Then steal a Mistress, Break all Ties,  
That would confine your Love to Rules.  
From Vulcan forced to hide my Charms,  
I Modest still, and Cold must prove:  
But Ah! when in my Warriors Arms  
I live! and give a loose to Love.  Lux. and Venus. 
All other Loves but faintly taste,  
Or still repeated fly too fast.  
But the Lover  
Will Discover.  
Changing  
Ranging  
Makes the Bliss for ever last.  Lux. 
True joy is now revealed,  
Come Pleasure's Dance and Play.  
All! All! To Venus yield,  
Fair Venus Wins the Day.  While the Pleasure's Dance, the Four last Lines are Repeated in a Grand Chorus. After which the Company rises. Xer. 
Now, my Lords, what think you of these softer Pleasures?  
Is not a peaceful Court adorned with Beauties?  
Far beyond the Prospect of a dusty Camp?  
Show me an Army now, that dares resist 'em!  
That could Unconquered view their Charms!  Mar. 
I could ha' shown you one, Sir, your Pardon, Ladies!  Xer. 
What!— They were valiant old Soldiers!  Mar. 
No! Young and Lusty, in their Prime of Years and Health;  
I dare allow the Ladies each to Conquer seven Men,  
But Seven Hundred Thousand would have held 'em to't.  Xer. 
You are allowed, this Liberty, my Lord,  
Your Years Excuse you.  Mar. 
I ha' lost no Taste of Manly pleasures.  Xer. 
How did the Music take you?  Mar. 
Tho' it were loose, I could ha' liked it  
In a proper Season, to me 'twas harsh  
And out of Time, when I have nothing else  
To do,— I'll have a Mistress, and a Lute.  Xer. 
Why, what have Men to do on Earth  
But to Indulge their Appetites? How should  
We stop the swift Career of Time, unless  
We load him well with Pleasures ere he flies away?  
Old Men I find can be content to Dream  
Of Happiness: Away! Some Fruit and sprightly Wines!  
Conduct the Ladies to the Grove of Jessamines,  
And strew the best Perfumes of Nature as they Pass,  
Your Ear Aranthes.  (The Courtiers Conduct the Ladies.) Tam. 
Pray, my Love, Excuse me! I dare not follow 'em,  (to Art.) 
During the Mask, the King let fall  
Some wanton Words, that Trouble, and Offend me,  
Forgive this Fault, I'll ne'er be seen at Court again.  Art. 
This Prudence has Obliged me: Farewell.  Exit. Tamira. Xer. (to Aran.) 
Nor e'er in Common talk speak slightly of my Triumph?  Aran. 
My Royal Lord his Private Thoughts I know not,  
If they were ill, he ne'er would utter 'em,  
I have indeed observed him Thoughtful when  
We speak of You, and he has sought  
This Opportunity to tell  Xer. 
I can Ill spare it now, my Pleasures Wait,  
And they Brook no Delay.  Aran. 
Beseech Your Majesty but a Moment.  Xer. 
A Moment! 'tis an Age! Let him be short.  
Too Plain I read his sullen Thoughts,  
He takes an Ill time to Thwart me!  
Let him be ware my sleeping Will,  
For if it wakes Disturbed, it may be Fatal.  
Now Sir! Your Greivances!  Aside. Mar. 
Are they not Written in my Face?  Xer. 
I read nothing there but Age,  
And that indeed's a Grievance!  Mar. 
Sir, You love me not!  Xer. 
Go on! have you any more?  Mar. 
Gods!  Xer. 
Speak lower.  Art. 
Forbear, my Lord, you'll Ruin All!  Mar. 
Speak you then, that can be Master of your Passion.  Art. 
My Royal Lord, may I entreat Permission,  
I unload that Grief, which Heavily  
Has brought us to the Court?  Xer. 
You have our leave, the rest be silent,  
Till I commission 'em to Answer.  Aran. 
I submit.  Mar. 
I'll do my best.  Art. 
Then thus, my Lord.  
We Grieve to think your late Expensive Triumph,  
Was not worth the Sums it Cost You: That all  
Your Trophies, Spoils and Treasure ta'en from Greece,  
Are now thrown by for Lumber:  
That even Your Royal Captives led in Golden Chains,  
Were Abject Slaves before they wore 'em:  
That a Benumbing Lethargy has seized Your Soul,  
And sunk your Glory in Unmanly Pleasures:  
That Women, Flatterers, and servile Poets are  
Your only Favourites now: That we  
Whose Loyal Swords have ev'er been Your Guard,  
ere we can gain Admittance to your Sight,  
Are Forced to give 'em up to base born Slaves,  
Lest we should sheathe 'em in Your Jeasous Heart.  
We Grieve, that your surviving Soldiers are  
So little known, the many Thousands  
In Your Service Dead, so soon Forgotten.  Xer. 
Proceed.  Art. 
You may remember, Sir,  
In Your Prosperity of Arms, when once  
You drew Your Hardy Millions up, and saw  
Th' Amazing space of World was taken.  
To contain their Numbers,  
You than bedewed Your Cheeks with Tears to see  
So many Gallant Souls in perfect Health,  
Which You was sure in One short Age of Man  
Th' Inevitable Throat of Death must swallow.  
If then so late, because a certain end  
Could move Your Soul so far, what Floods of Grief,  
What Raving Madness should Possess you,  
When You reflect, that they were all Devoured  
At a Meal:  
One Fatal Battle slew 'em for the Tyrant's Feast,  
And for his Table spread the Earth with Slaughter.  
By Heaven our Foes Report, they are ashamed,  
T'have Conquered Men, that can so tamely bear their Losses;  
Others less insulting say, (and that indeed does wound us)  
That we stand ready all, and raving for Revenge,  
But want an Animating King to lead us.  Mar. 
Nay, Sir! they talk yet worse than this—  Xer. 
'Tis not yet your time to speak.  Mar. 
Would it were!— I ha' done.  Xex. 
Have you any more?  Art. 
No more my Lord, but that  
You would believe my Words, the Dictates of  
A Loyal Heart, that bleeds to serve you.  Xer. 
Aranthes, You!  Aran. 
My Lord, my Griefs are told by Artabanus.  Xer. 
Now Sir, you have leave.  Mar. 
I am unarted, Sir, in any grace of Speech  
To stir the Soul! my words are plain and honest,  
Too short to hide a Crime with Eloquence;  
I'm downright angry I, where ere I see  
The Face of Shame: Ye Gods! had I but ta'en  
The Cue t'have spoke, the half what he has uttered,  
Ye had appeared a— I want a Name to call a King by:  
But come, Sir, I'll return the Music you have given:  
I've yet a Tongue will better speak  
My Thoughts; a Voice, that once could warm you faster  
Than a Silken Mistress, and was, perhaps,  
As loath to let you sleep a'Nights.  Xer. 
Where is this Powerful Orator? Let's hear him!  Mar. 
Bid the Trumpets Enter.  Aran. 
Now you strike him home, my Lord.  Enter Trumpets. Mar. 
Here! here's th' harmonious Tongue shall plead my Cause,  
And rouse your startling Soul to Glory! Sound a Charge.  (Mar. Art. 
Yet hold! By Heaven, I plaud my Fellow Soldiers heat!  [Embracing 
And see, my Lord! what hardy Squadrons join to back him.  [Looks out. 
Look! how they move! what, what a Martial Grace and Order!  
Gods! Victorious Terror's in their Eyes, and now  
Suppose within a well pitched Field,  
The swelling Foe, advancing to our Foremost Ranks;  
We fix our chosen ground, and stand impatient  
To receive 'em! The Neighing Steeds too foam and champ!  
And tear the Earth, and show a noble lust of War!  
And see they come! the glowing Soldiers shout;  
The Signal's given, and Death in ghastly wounds  
Deals various Fate around him!  
While Clashing Armour, Spears, and Rattling Shields,  
Drums, Fifes, and Trumpets, (Glorious Horror!)  
With their stupendious Clangor crack the Skies!  
Now stretch the Allarming Voice of War! Sound, till  
From your swollen Veins, the Springing Blood gush forth!  
Imagine now, the eager Arms of Victory  
Extending to embrace us! sound! as if  
The Glorious Scene were here in real Action!  
Sound! and wake the Ghost of this departed Hero.  Art. 
O Glorious Harmony!  They Sound a Charge. Aran. 
O Powerful Charm!  Mar. 
By Arms, it sets my glowing Veins on fire!  
I burn! my Spirits rave with fury for the War!  
Away to Horse! to Arms! why stand you, Sir, unmoved,  
As if a low born Fear, had fixed you here Inanimate?  
Can you be deaf, when great Revenge and Honour call?  
Are there such Charms in a detested Sloth and Ease?  
God's where have you Tameness lest, to stand thus long  
Suspected, not to dare? Sound a fresh Alarm!  
And let the Martial Din ungrave the Dead  
To rouse him!  Xer. 
On Forfeit of your Lives, forbear your Insolence!  
Audacious Traitor! thus to Brand  
My Hallowed Pleasures, with the Name  
Of Slothful, Ease and Fear! I'll have thee think,  
Unknowing Slave! That nothing in itself  
Is Good or Ill, but as it pleases me.  Mar. 
I say no! There will be shame in Cowardice,  
Tho' Xerxes were a Soldier!  Xer. 
Ha!  Aran. 
Forbear, my Lord, consider 'tis your King that hears you!  Mar. 
I ha' no King, 'tis Merit, not a Crown  
That makes a King, when Pride and Sloth debase  
The Soul of Majesty: The Crown's a Toy,  
No more in Worth, than what it weighs in Gold:  
I scorn a King, whose Robes can only speak him Royal.  Xer. 
Witness ye Gods! How loath I am to wake,  
And crush this Slave, who like a Crawling Insect dares  
Disturb the sleeping Lion—  Mar. 
A Lion!  
By Heaven I've seen a Hare, a Woman's Courage  
Dare beyond thee; the Martial Artemisia,  
Whose Aiding Arm in Fight, supported and disgraced thee:  
The Warlike Woman showed a Manly Rage,  
The Courtly King a Woman's Trembling Fear:  
Ever were't thou last in Battle, foremost  
In the Flight, humble in Danger, and when  
Thy Danger's past, Insulting!  Xer. 
Seize the Traitor! hence! and bear him to a Dungeon!  
There let the surly Lion Growle and Champ,  
His Galling Chains in vain! I'll try him in the Den;  
Hard Fare, perhaps, Darkness and Gives may tame him.  Mar. 
A Dungeon! Now by the Power of Arms, thou'st found  
The only place, an honest Man can bear in Persia!  
Thou poor Inverted King, whose Favour is Disgrace,  
Whose Frowns are Honour now; Thou canst not raise  
My Glory more, than thus proclaiming to the World  
Thou hatest me: But when  
This Lion grumbles o'er his Chains alone; Beware  
Thou send no Persian Fools to gaze at me;  
Lest in my round of thought, I should believe 'em Greeks  
That keep me there; and bounding from my Couch,  
Grasping with Fury the mistaken Prey,  
With Flaming Eyes, should stare their Souls away.  [Exit. Xer. 
To the Dungeon hence, and load him down with Massy Fetters.  
By Heaven I'll find a way to take  
An undisturbed Repose: I'll have my Streams  
Of Christial Pleasure, cleared of all these Martial Weeds,  
I'll tear 'em by the Roots, and throw 'em useless by.  Art. 
My Lord, Hower'e your Soldiers heat—  Xer. 
I'll have no more to do with saucy War!  
Were now Ten Thousand times the Millions  
I ha' lost in Arms, Entreating, Begging as for life,  
One animating Word to bid 'em move,  
I'd not unsheathe my Sword, to be Enthroned with Jove.  [Exit, Art. 
Why! why ye Powers! has such a tainted Soul  
The Care of th' Empire? Or if the Gods have stamped  
Divinity on Kings, fixing them far above  
The Reach of Common Men; why then have we  
The Eyes of Reason to Inspect their Faults?  
Why are we Born with Souls to loath Dishonour,  
And yet by Honour bound to bear it?  Aran. 
How! To bear it! No! That Loyalty's Dishonourable,  
That bids me bear Dishonour: When Subjects  
Are no more the Care of Kings, we then  
Have only left the Laws of Nature to Protect us,  
And Nature ties us all to Self Defence.  
We must in time resent the Blows we've taken:  
Mardonius' Freedom must be sought, and suddenly:  
The Current of our Treasure ebbs too fast;  
It must be stopped by Right and Privilege:  
The late Expenses of our Gaudy Shame,  
Exceeds th' Account of Necessary War:  
And shall we sleep, when from our Hands by Force,  
The Gripe of Tyranny has wrung our Fortunes.  
More I could say,  
If I believed that Words could win you to  
An Honourable Action.  Art. 
Aranthes, I was never slow to such a Call,  
Nor needs the Cause a Tongue,  
But yet the Undertaking's difficult,  
And will require our Friends best Counsel  
To Night at my own House I'll Summon 'em,  
There speak our Griefs at large.  
And may the Blessed Event to Ages prove;  
No Crown sits safe without the People's Love.  [Exeunt.  

ACT III. The Scene, The House of Artabanus.  Enter Memnon with a Paper. Mem. 
HOnesty's a Notion, and only Reigns  
Like womens' Chastity in cold Untempted Minds:  
It must be so! I ever thought that Villainy  
Had an ugly Face; but now I view it  
In the Flattering Glass of Interest, it seems  
No Monster!— Of a fairer form than half starved Virtue.  
— Yet let me think a little—  
Here I am trusted with the Names of several Men,  
Who have combined to free th' Imprisoned General,  
To seize the King, and force him to renew  
The War with Greece! Nay, I've subscribed my own,  
T'assist 'em too, and now am going to inform  
The General of it: The Undertaking is but Just;  
For Old Mardonius loved the King, and lies  
In Chains, because he offered proof on't: Xerxes  
Is unfit to hold the Reins of Empire;  
He throws 'em loose, and lets it run to shame,  
And Luxury— Why done't I haste to stop him then?  
And by the Execution of what I've sworn to act;  
Prevent my Country's Ruin— But stay! suppose  
I fail in my Design, (as sure 'tis dangerous)  
If I am taken, can my Country save me?  
Or if I succeed, am I sure my Country  
Will be grateful? They'll say perhaps 'twas Interest  
Led me on:  
And let me starve, while they partake the Blessing!  
They may be base, and probably they will!  
Then 'Tis not safe to trust 'em, nor can I  
On th' other side be sure of Life, if I delay  
This great Discovery:— Why then 'Tis fixed!  
I'll take the surest way to find Reward from Xerxes:  
And when my Pardon, and Reward are signed,  
Then let 'em call me Fool, or tell the King  
I am a Villain.  [Exit. Enter Artabanus, Aranthes, etc. Art. 
Never was Cause, my Friends, more cheerfully  
Embraced, never were Hands more fit for Action,  
Nor ever greater Glory waiting on success:  
'Tis not the Thirst of others Wealth, or Dignities,  
Nor Envy of a favoured Faction, that inflames us,  
No Mercenary end: 'Tis Bleeding Honour calls us  
To revenge her Wounds; 'tis Xerxes, not the King  
That stands accused: If Xerxes can relent,  
Still let him wear the Crown; if not, the Crown  
By us removed, can dignify  
Another Head for Empire.  Aran. 
'Tis not who Reigns, but who Reigns well is King.  Art. 
He that neglects the Regal Office,  
Should be compelled to lay it down;  
And we who feel the smart of that neglect,  
Are only proper Judges, where to place it.  Aran. 
Let us but once more see Mardonius Sworded,  
We shan't be long to seek a Man, that's fit  
To wield a Sceptre: I long  
To hear how he receives our Undertaking!  
Why lingers Memnon thus? may we believe  
He's not refused Access to him.  Art. 
You may, I have unbarred the Prison Gates with Gold.  A Servant Whispers Artabanus. 
Come Gentlemen, the Night begins to waste,  
Our Small Collation waits us: Aranthes,  
Pray conduct our Friends, I'll give some Orders  
In the House,- and follow You.  [Exit. Aran. with the rest. Enter Tamira in her Night Dress, Weep. Art. 
What mean these Tears Tamira?  Tam. 
O can you love like me, and ask that Question.  
'tis true, I counselled what you have undertaken,  
Yet cannot help my Woman's Fears: Not but  
I love your Honour more, than both our Lives;  
Yet when I run o'er the Frightful Hazards,  
The Dangers imminent you meet  
To purchase and preserve it, than I could wish  
Some Humble Shepherd were my Love,  
Whose sole Ambition were a Rosy Chaplet,  
Not a Crown:  
Who in some sweet Retreat of blooming Nature,  
Naked of Honours, but Enriched with love  
Might give, and take delight unknown to Crowns,  
And drive with undisturbed Repose,  
The melting Hours before us.  Art. 
Be witness Heaven, how these words Transport me!  
For still thy Fears I know are born of Love,  
And Love's of Kin to Honour.— Couldst thou behold  
Even in the softest Moment of our Joy,  
Our Native Country in Distress, The Bloody Arm  
Of Tyranny just raised to give the Wound;  
And not with Horror throw me from thy Arms  
To stop the Blow? Think what a Glorious Tale,  
Futurity shall Register of him,  
That first stepped out to save her!  
And if opposing Death should cross the Brave Attempt,  
Then shall it farther still be said for thee,  
This Man, this honest Man, the Memorable Artabanus,  
Beyond his Life, his Country Loved,  
Yet equal with his Country loved Tamira.  Tam. 
O shall it then be said Tamira's Fears,  
Opposed this Glorious Enterprise? Perish  
That Wife is so Impatient of her Joys;  
That to Indulge her Love at home,  
Would turn her Husband's Honour out a starving! No!  
Go on my dearest Lord! leave me, and cheer,  
Those Gallant Friends have sworn to assist you:  
If you return wtih Life, my Love will find  
A thousand thousand ways to welcome you— Hark!  
What knock's that? who can it be thus late.  [A loud knocking. 
Do you expect more Friends, my Lord?  
Pray Heaven no ill be towards us!  Art. 
Be not concerned, my Love, I guess  
'Tis Memnon from the General,— within there!  
Hast to the Portal, know first their Business  [Enter a Servant. 
Ere you give admittance, unless it be  
To my Lieutenant Memnon: Be calm, my Love.  Tam. 
I cannot while this Noise continues!  
You shall not stir, my Lord; Heavens! How I tremble!  Art. 
Now! who is it?  [Re-enter Servant with the Steward. Seru. 
My Lord, your Steward.  Art. 
The News!  Stew. 
Defend yourself, my Lord! Some Danger's towards you.  
Going to my Rest, within the outward Lodge,  
I heard the thronging tread of Passengers,  
Whom from the Window I discovered  
To be the Guards:  
They now are Marching round the Orchard Wall,  
In Order to beset the House;  
I heard 'em say too, as they passed along,  
Kill none, let 'em be taken all alive.  Art. 
Death and Horror! we are betrayed!  Tam. 
O Fly, My Lord!  
Let me conjure you by the Pangs  
Of my distracted Love, fly! fly! ere yet  
A moment can befriend you.  Art. 
Impossible! I leave my Friends in danger!  Tam. 
Run! hast, and rouse 'em from the Jaws of Ruin.  [To the Seru. 
O Fatal Enterprise!  Art. 
That we may gain some time to think, lead you  
The Servants to the Eastern Gate,  [To the Steward. 
Command 'em on their Lives to keep it Barred,  
'Gainst all would force their Entrance, Gods!  
Was ever Noble Action so untimely born;  
O Tamira!  Tam. 
What Power, what Fate can stop our headlong Ruin?  
Some pitying Gods look down, and stretch an Arm,  
To keep our Lives and Love unparted!  
O that the Earth would open wide, and take us thus,  
Thus undivided to the Centre!  [Throwing her Arms on him. Art. 
If we deserve your Rage ye Powers!  
Now hurl your Thunder to destroy us:  
But strike us closer, not asunder with your Bolts.  
O! must we part Tamira!  
Cursed be the Hell born Slave that durst betray  
Our Honest lives: Ill rest betide his Frighted Soul,  
Devouring Guilt,  
Like the Promethean Vulture knaw his Perjured Heart,  
And mark him for the Carrion of Mankind.  (Ara. within.) 
Ruined! betrayed, and lost!  Art. 
O my Friends!  Enter Aranthes, and the rest in Disorder. Aran. 
Distraction! Memnon!  Art. 
Ha! what of him!  Aran. 
He! He! That cursed, that Cankered Slave for fear,  
Or base Reward has sold us all: I now  
Descried him by the Distant light of Torches,  
In Conference with the King, who Smiling comes  
i'th' Rear to catch us in the shameful Toil!  Art. 
O that a curse would kill the Villain!  Aran. 
Let's send it then upon our pointed Sword,  
Since we've no hope of safety left,  
Here! let us fix our stand, and if the Villain  
Dares to Face us, rush all at once to reach his Heart,  
And die like Men, Revenged upon our Ruin.  Art. 
Impossible to 'scape such Numbers: No!  
Let's down to th' Postern Gate, and try  
To leap the Orchared Wall, or now the Darkness of  
The Night Befriends us; Mingle with the Guards  
That are in search of us, seem Hot as they  
In the pursuit, and that way take our chance,  
To scape 'em Undiscovered.  (a loud Noise without) Aran. 
A way! they are upon us:  
Succeed or not, we know at last to die.  Exit. with the rest. Art. 
I follow you.  (Tamira holds Arta.) Tam. 
My Lord! my Love, I cannot leave you!  
O let me part with you, and life together!  Art. 
This is no time to part like Lovers,  
Nor yet to tell thee half my Fears!  
The King! Revenge! and lust! I can no more  
But should thy Frighted Virtue call for help  
Let this speak for me.  (gives her a Dagger.) Tam. 
By Heaven it shall, and Home: But do not Venture  
To the Orchard: Here in the House below there lies  
A Secret Vault, in former Times of some Religious use  
And now is only known to me: There I conjure you lie  
Concealed till safety call you forth: Nor Hell, nor Envy can  
Betray you thence, unless I prove Unfaithful.  Art. 
O might we never part till then!  
Hark! They are Entering! show me!  Exeunt. After a Noise of the Gates being Broken down, Enter Xerxes, Memnon, Officers and Guards, with Torch's. Xer. 
Where! Where's this, Infernal Brood of Traitors;  
By Heaven I'll Crush 'em in the Nest! Away!  
Look out! Search every Hole, that Fear can Creep into:  
Nor Earth, nor Hell shall Hide 'em from my Vengeance!  Enter at the other Door Cleontes, and Guards Dragging in two of the Conspirators Dead. Cleo. 
Here! This way, show the Bodies to the King!  
Great Sir! two of the Conspirators,  
This Moment Breathed their last.  Xer. 
Was't not my strict Command to take 'em all alive?  
Who was it dared to kill 'em?  Cleo. 
My Lord! it was their own Dispair,  
For e'er we could beset the Orchard,  
These two, with several more, who just before Escaped us,  
Made an Attempt to leap the Wall;  
We Interposing in the Moment,  
Demanded 'em our Prisoners;  
At this, they looking round with hopeless Eyes,  
To one another's Breasts their pointed Swords advanced,  
And rushed at once to an Embrace  
Of Friendship and of Death.  Xer. 
O spiteful sullen Traitors! Bring in the Torture!  
By Heaven I'll have 'em Racked to Life again!  Mem. 
My Lord, these Wretches are but the Limbs  
Of the Conspiracy, it only halts for want of them!  
If you would have it hushed for ever,  
Cut off the Head, their Artabanus!  Xer. 
Thou hast informed my Rage: Say Slaves,  
Among those that fled, saw you Artabanus?  Cleo. 
No, my Lord, we rather choose to let them fly,  
Than give him time to 'scape, while we pursued 'em.  
If with the rest he was, he's still i'th' House, my Lord.  Mem. 
Then we are secure of him: I left him here;  
But see, they've found his Wife,  
If he lies yet concealed, she must of course  
Be privy to the Place.  [Enter Tamira Guarded. Xer. 
Now! Is Artabanus found?  Guard. 
My Lord, we've left no place unsearched  
That Jealousy can enter; but can no where find him:  
And when we urged his Lady to discover him,  
She called us Fools, and said we asked her Idle Questions.  Xer. 
So brave! But this is done in spite to me:  
The Traitress knows I love, and therefore she insults:  
But thus I tear the Passion from my Breast,  
And in its room, take fell Revenge and Hate!  Aside 
Bring in the Rack! I'll try if that can make  
A Woman speak her Mind.  Mem. 
'Tis here, my Lord.  Xer. 
See you that, Lady?  Tam. 
Yes, and feel it in my Thoughts.  Xer. 
What think you of it?  Tam. 
That I could bear it, Sir, t'avoid a greater pain.  Xer. 
What's that?  Tam. 
Disloyalty to my Husband, and my Love.  Xer. 
That shall be tried: Where is your Husband?  Tam. 
I have hid him, Sir.  Xer. 
Where Traitress?  Tam. 
I dare not tell you, Sir; he has commanded me I should not.  Xer. 
He than commands thee to the Torture!  
If thou wouldst 'scape it, speak! for I will know.  Tam. 
You shall! You ask to know  
Where I have hid my Husband.  
Then I must tell you, Tyrant, in my Heart,  
Where you▪ nor yours can enter to remove him▪  Mem. 
Put her to the Trial, Sir! the Rack keeps no Secrets;  
Women are so impatient of a little pain,  
That only squalling in their Natural Labour.  
They'll forswear Mankind.  Aside to Xerxes. Xer. 
By Heaven, I'm pleased to see her Folly rave,  
Thou talk'st as if the Rack were but a sport! Hast thou  
Been ever sensible of any pain like this?  Tam. 
Ten thousand times a greater: I have known  
The pains of hopeless Love: Nay, after that,  
The Agonies of Blushing to Reward  
The Man that loved me.  Xer. 
How feelingly she talks of Love, even in  
The Face of Horror: Art thou not afraid of Death?  Tam. 
No! This Moment from my Window I beheld  
These two unhappy Wretches run into  
His Arms, and see! how soon they're quiet! Death!  
Alas! He's now my nearest Friend! look here!  
I wear him in my Bosom, Sir,  
My Husband placed him there.  Xer. 
Thy Husband! To what end.  Tam. 
During his Absence to keep Dishonour from me.  Xer. 
O the Inveterate Slave! Memnon, Walk unobserved  
Behind, and rest the Dagger from her.  [Aside. Mem. 
I shall, my Lord.  [He steals round. Tam. 
That Whisper has a Meaning I am jealous of;  
By Heaven 'tis so! The Villain meets my purpose!  [Observing Mem. Xer. 
Once more! Where is thy Husband?  
Confess, and yet preserve thy Life.  Tam. 
Thus far I will confess: That I am now indeed  
Almost afraid of Death: For it would grate my Soul,  
To leave my Husband's Ruin unrevenged;  
(For I despair again to make him happy)  
And that the only wish, that makes me fond of Life.  
Forgive me Duty, if I mistake the Breast;  
But great Revenge and Love, Instruct me here!  [Stabs Mem. Xer. 
Disarm her! Seize her Slaves!  
I'll trust the Tygress lose no more.  Mem. 
Furys and Death, she's reached my Heart.  [Dies. Tam. 
So may all Traitors die! 'Tis done!  
The Noble Task, that Love had set me  
For the Remains of Life, is nobly ended;  
And now I am at leisure for  
The Idle Holy day of Death.  Xer. 
No sullen Traitress! thou shalt be Years a dying.  Tam. 
Let me be Ages, Sir!  Xer. 
Begin the Torture!  
I'd have my Glory live for ever!  
By Heaven she mocks my Vengeance!  [They bind her. 
Now, where are your smiles of Scorn, Lady?  Tam. 
Here! in my Soul, which thus contemns the Tyrant.  
Thinking to bow it down to Baseness.  
Alas, my Body now would sink to th' Earth,  
With horror of yond Agonizing Tortures;  
But that my daring Soul, shoots like a tempered Spear,  
Quite through the falling Trunk, and give it power to stand.  
Now satiate thy Rage, strip off my trembling Flesh,  
And when thou'st Piecemeal torn these frailer Limbs away,  
Still shalt thou leave unmoved a naked Mind  
Erect to Heaven.  Xer. 
Away! and drag her to her Fate!  [She is carried off. 
My stern Revenge will brook no more defiance.  Cleo. 
My Gracious Lord, might your poor Slave advice—  Xer. 
Preserve thou thy own Life, and tempt me not,  
I tell thee Vengeance takes up all my Soul.  Cleo. 
But yet, you see, my Lord, she minds it not!  
You are not thus revenged!— she mocks the Torture.  
Now, Sir, may I Advise—  Xer. 
Advise me! What? Not even the damned can Groan,  
With more variety of Pain— Look there!  Cleo. 
I see, my Lord, and plainly see from this,  
Were she in your Arms, she'd feel at once,  
A greater Pain, and you a sweeter Vengeance.  
Methinks she's lovely yet! Her Charms new pointed!  
See! How her Snowy Bosom heaves and swells  
With Inward Pains, Disdaining to confess 'em.  
O Miracle of distressful Beauty!  Xer. 
Not yet a Groan! No Sigh! or Tear for Mercy!  
Reveal thy Husband yet, and I forego  
My Justice!— By yon Heaven she's Dumb and dauntless!  
See! How she knaws her Lips, and firms her Brow,  
With sullen Virtue she supports her Soul,  
And bears it with unheaded Resolution!  Cleo. 
Stupendious Woman!  Xer. 
Forbear a while—  [To the Executioners. Cleo. 
With half this Pain, I've seen a Malefactor  
Make the Torturer tremble with his Groans!  
Can all this Fortitude be born of Love!  Xer. 
If it be—  
What Mortal Man can Merit such a Love?  
If Love can make her smile in such a raging Pain?  
What must he do, when wrapped in real Pleasure?  
What Racks of Blissful Joy, what Raptures must she give!  
By Heaven they must be tasted—  
Unloose, and seat her by me.  [She is brought in all Bloody. 
I'm now a Convert to her Undaunted Virtue.  
Thou Glorious Woman, whose Unconquered Soul,  
Inspite of Wrongs, resolves my Rage to pity.  
For ever now, thine and thy Husband's Injuries  
〈…〉  
Too little to Reward thy Constancy;  
But if thy Husband's Life and Safety can,  
Nay, and his Friends too, they are thine,  
Thy Goodness has redeemed 'em.  Tam. 
What said you, Sir? You do not flatter me!  [Weep. Xer. 
Search round my Kingdom for a Wish, 'tis thine.  
Or Wealth, or Empire, all too poor a Gift,  
For such exalted Virtue!  
But ask! O speak! and teach me to be grateful!  Tam. 
O my cheered Heart! Shall I not ask in vain?  Xer. 
Speak, and enjoy thy Wish!  Tam. 
Indeed it is an humble one: I ask  
Not Wealth or power, I ne'er was fond of Dignity.  
Nature and Reason ever taught me to believe,  
No taste of Life could be, but in the Free,  
Th' entire Possession of the Man that loved me.  
Give me his Life, and him the Life of those  
Unhappy Friends, his rashness has engaged,  
And I am more than happy.  Xer. 
All this I had resolved unasked;  
Can nothing more be given to cheer thy Life?  Tam. 
A little more, If I might speak!  Xer. 
Speaking is to enjoy.  Tam. 
Then give us leave, my Husband, Sir,  
Our little Infant, and myself, with the Remains  
Of our Inheritance, to seek Retirement,  
On some remote and unknown Clime,  
Where Power and State, may never more  
Disturb the Peace of our unmurmuring Love.  Xer. 
Draw up a Pardon straight for Artabanus,  
And those with him concerned in this Conspiracy.  
Here! Fair one, take this Ring! Give it thy Husband,  
Be that thy Triumph, and his Passport through the World:  
Now gently raise, and bear her to the Palace,  
And let our own Physicians have the care of her.  Tam. 
Alas, my Lord, I want no Art, such words as these  
Would heal a Wretch expiring of his Wounds!  
O let me kiss your Sacred Feet,  
And thank you with my grateful Tears of Joy;  
Thus let me weep, and wash your cruel Guilt away,  
Till Gods and Men, stand wondering at your Virtue!  Xer. 
Rise, Fair Creature! Live, and enjoy the Man that loves thee.  Tam. 
Now you indeed have raised me, raised me, Sir,  
From Death to Life, to Love, and to my Husband!  
But hast! O lead me to him, ere my Wounds are cold,  
That I may fold his Body in these Bleeding Arms,  
And print it o'er with Crimson Characters  
Of Eternal Faith!  
And now let base Detraction blush  
To call us Cowards, or Inconstant Souls,  
Since every Drop that falls from me  
May to our injured Sex's Glory prove,  
That Racks nor Hell could shake a Woman's Love.  [Exit. Xer. 
Then thou'rt the first that never could be won,  
And therefore only fit to feed a Love  
Luxurious as my own: Now follow her;  
Seize her Husband the Moment she discovers him,  
And bear him to the Scaffold.  Cleo. 
You gave your Royal Word to spare him, Sir.  Xer. 
No, Fool; I gave my Word to find him out!  
Justice demanded him, and since the Rack  
Produced him not, I might with Justice then  
Make use of Policy; and now I'm both  
Secure of my Revenge and Love!  Cleo. 
Then she must not die, Sir!  Xer. 
Oh! no! she lives, and shall be loved to Ruin!  
I've proved her Virtue now, and find  
It worthy of a Siege: I'll further try  
If all the moving Penitence of Love can take her:  
If (as I would) she still resist that Power,  
The noblest Way to conquer is to storm.  
'Tis Opposition gives the Victor Glory!  
Oh! what a noble Gust will swell my Soul  
When she lies drowned in Tears, and trembling in my Grasp!  
Nay, after my abhorred Possession I'll hold her down  
With smiling Spite, and talk my Raptures o'er;  
In her unwilling Ears I'll pour such Tales  
Of Loose Desire, her very Soul shall feel the Rape.  
And though—  
Her Words may beg I would her Life destroy,  
I'll make her Eyes confess that she partakes the Joy.  [Exit.  

ACT IU.  

The Scene, the Palace.  Enter Xerxes attended, a Messenger offering him a Letter▪ Xer. 
WAit on me to morrow!  
I'm not at leisure now for Business.  Mess. 
To morrow, Sir, may be too late;  
They're of Importance, and concern  
The Safety of your Royal Person.  Xer. 
I tell thee, Slave, my Will's my Safety:  
When Danger dares to face me,  
I'll command it from my Person.  Mess. 
But, Sir—  Xer. 
No more! My Pleasures wait▪  Enter Cleontes. 
Now, my Cleontes; What News from Love?  
How does Tamira bear her heavy Change of Fortune?  Cleo. 
Oh! never, never did the weeping Eyes  
Of Pity view a Scene so mournful. When first  
We seized, and forced her Husband from her Arms,  
She wrung her Hands, and shrieked, and tore her flowing Hair!  
Beating her Breasts; and in her wild Despair  
She broke through all the Guards, with an amazing Force,  
And strained her Arms once more around him.  
We strove to part him from her Hold; but she  
Still clung, and clasped with such Convulsive Force,  
That from her half-healed Wounds the starting Blood  
Again sprung forth—  
And sprinkled those with Pity that opposed her.  
Moved by that Sight, we stopped a while,  
To let her take a short, a last Farewell.  
Quite Breathless now, her Head upon his Bosom leaned;  
She wept, and spoke with dying Eyes  
The tender Anguish of her Soul.  
He pressed her close, and called, My Life!  
She sighed and groaned, and offered an Embrace;  
But there, alas! her wasted Spirits sunk,  
And left her on the Floor, expiring.  Xer. 
Extravagance of Love!  
If only to behold her parted from a Husband's Arms  
Were such a mournful Sight,  
Oh! what a Beauteous Ruin will her Sorrows make  
When rifled of her dearer Honour!  
She weeps and wails; with swollen Eyes looks up to Heaven,  
And chides the Neuter-Gods for their Neglect of Innocence!  
But say! How have you disposed her Husband?  Cleo. 
While she lay fainting on the Ground  
We hurried him to Prison, than used all our Care  
To bring her back to Life.  Xer. 
Is she then recovered?  Cleo. 
To Life she is, but hardly to her Senses.  
She speaks to none, nor minds another's Speech:  
Pensive she sits, with folded Arms,  
Fixing to th' Earth her Bloodshot Eyes, and looks  
The piteous Image of true Mourning Misery.  Xer. 
How are her Wounds?  Cleo. 
By virtue of an Arabian Plant, she has  
Already lost the Pain: They were at first  Xer. 
Use all the Power of Art to cheer her Spirits,  
But keep her still within the Palace.  
When you perceive she is inclined to talk,  
Let me hear of her—  Mess. 
I beg your Majesty—  Xer. 
Again this Plague! Whence are these Letters?  Mess. 
From my Master, Sir, the Governor of your New erected Fort.  Xer. (Reads.) 
Ha! He tells me here some Rebels are in Arms,  
— That you are able to inform me farther!  
Say! Who, what are they?  Mess. 
Most of 'em are those the Grecians left unslaughtered.  Xer. 
In Arms!  Mess. 
Yes, Sir, and in Order too: They have been  
Long used to War: You taught 'em first the Trade,  
And now they say, they'll set up for themselves.  Xer. 
So blunt?  Mess. 
They talk but little, Sir; they look their Thoughts,  
And threaten in their Silence.  Xer. 
Aranthes at the Head of 'em?  Mess. 
I saw, and spoke with him.  Xer. 
What said the Traitor?  Mess. 
He bid me tell you, Sir, Unless the General  
Were free to morrow, he'd himself find Hands  
To force the Prison-Gates.  Xer. 
So Resolute? What was their Number?  Mess. 
When first I viewed 'em they appeared  
Not above Ten Thousand: But in Four Hours  
I perceived 'em doubled.  Xer. 
Ha! It may be dangerous then too far  
T' incense a gathering Power— It must be so!  
Here, take the Royal Signet; haste, and stop  
The Execution of Artabanus.  [Exit an Attendant. 
Nor is it Fear that makes me do it;  
But, on my second Thoughts, it may advance  
The glorious Project of my loose Desire:  
(For she'll believe, when I protest it so,  [Aside. 
That Love of her has made me pitiful.)  
Beside, the News will call her Spirits home,  
And make her fit so much the sooner for my Arms.  
Post to thy Master, back: Bid him draw out  
Those Forces under his Command, and meet the Rebels.  Mess. 
The Rebels, Sir, are more than thrice his Number.  Xer. 
No more! But let him do't, or die!  Mess. 
I am gone, Sir. And if he takes my Counsel,  
His few shall make their Number greater.  [Aside. Xer. 
I'll think no more, nor shock my Ease,  
To entertain a Thought of Toilsome Arms!  
But yet, I am not safe till these are quelled—  
Let Hoodwinked Fortune use her Senseless Will!  
Man sees in vain, and does in vain oppose her:  
Fight, or neglect 'em, still my Fate's decreed▪  
Nor is't in me to shun a future Ill,  
Unless, with Power to act, Heaven gives me Will.  
Yet thus to live in Doubt a Torment is!  
Then Magic Art shall set my Mind at Peace:  
I'll to the Magi's Cave, whose Charms shall prove  
What Fate's designed my Empire, and my Love.  [Exit.  

The SCENE changes to the Magician's Cave.  Re-enter Xerxes alone. Xer. 
Come forth, ye Powers on Futurity:  
You, that with Powerful Charms unlock  
The Cabinets of Heaven, and steal from thence  
The hidden Fates of Kings and Empires,  The Magi appear. 
Haste from your gloomy Cell, and summon all  
Your Art to wait a Monarch's Pleasure.  Mag. 
Command us, and our Art obeys.  Xer. 
Tell me what End my Empire is decreed,  
If I by Foes, or Foes by me shall bleed.  
Tell me what Pleasure I in Love shall know;  
If Love, or Force, shall make the Fair One bow.  
Exert your Art, and prove what Spells can do.  Mag. 
Prepare the Charm: The Charm must be  
To Sophiel, who delights in Harmony.  

1st Mag. sings.  
Sophiel! Old Sire of Early Fate,  
Who seest before the God's debate;  
That know'st of yet Unbeing Things,  
The Fates of Uncreated Kings,  
Of Men, of Empires, and the Doom  
Of Thousand Thousand Years to come:  
1st Mag. Appear! 2d. Appear! 3d. Appear!   

1st Mag. Sophiel!  
By the Moon's pale Beam,  
That faintly glimmers o'er the Stygian Stream,  
Appear, etc.   

2d Mag. Sophiel!  
By the Ocean's Ebb and Flow,  
Whose Hidden Cause we ne'er could know,  
Appear, etc.   

3d Mag. Sophiel!  
By the Subterraneous Winds, that make  
The trembling Earth and Centre shake,   

Chorus.  
Appear! Thrice! Thrice! invoked, appear;  
Whether in Air thy Form does stray,  
Or under Earth by Charms is bound,  
Swift! swift as lightning, dart away;  
Or fierce as Thunder, tear the Ground.   Sophiel arises in the Form of an Old Man all in White, and speaks. Soph. 
Too curious Man! Why dost thou seek to know  
Events, which, good or ill, fore-known, are Woe?  
Th' Allseeing Power, that made the Mortal, gave  
Thee every thing a Mortal State should have.  
Foreknowledge only is enjoyed by Heaven,  
And, for his Peace of Mind to Man forbidden.  
Wretched were Life, if he fore-knew his Doom;  
Even Joys fore-seen give pleasing Hope no Room,  
And Griefs assured are felt before they come.  
Yet loose the Charm, be wise! O send me back;  
And what's decreed by Fate, with Patience take.  Mag. 
Thou beg'st in vain to cross our Monarch's Will:  
What he commands, Spirit, I charge thee Fell,  
Speak, or I'll bind thee in an Everlasting Spell.  Soph. 
O! spare me, and I speak; nor blame my Care:  
I thought, in Kindness, I might say, Beware.  
Know then, rash Man, thou'st lost the happy Hour  
Which favouring Fate once gave within thy Power.  
While thus thou liv'st in Thoughtless Luxury,  
Slighted of Friends, of Foes despised, thou'lt die;  
In Madness only famed to late Posterity.  
But thou in Love a stranger Fate shalt know;  
The Fair One shall, but shall to Virtue bow,  
With humble Love pursue, and thou shalt find  
Thou art deceived, Alas! in Womankind.  [He descends. Xer. 
Spirit, thou liest; I ne'er despised shall die:  
I'll change my Death, to prove that Fate can lie.  
Should Fortune threaten what thy Words declare,  
I'd free my Soul, to be revenged on her.  
And for my Love, I will the Raptures know;  
She shall to Love or Force, not Virtue, bow.  
Virtue may please, and give dull Souls a Feast;  
But Ravishment's a Joy for Gods to taste.  [Exit.  

The SCENE changes to a private Room in the Palace.  Enter Cleontes and an Officer, and Servants setting out a Banquet. Cleo. 
Dispatch, dispatch! the King approaches.  Off. 
I guess the meaning of this Preparation!  
But is the Lady in a Condition, think you,  
To be entertained?  Cleo. 
Her Husband's Liberty and Pardon have recalled her Spirits.  Off. 
Has she seen him then?  Cleo. 
She has: I saw there first Meeting here, i'th' Palace.  Off. 
Sure 'twas a joyful one.  Cleo. 
It was, indeed! Joyful, even to a Face of Sorrow:  
So movingly she wept her Griefs away,  
'Twere hard to judge which seemed the greater Pain,  
The Terror of his Death, or the distracting Joy  
Of his Return to Life: For even there she fainted.  Off. 
Where is her Husband now?  Cleo. 
After the Hurry of their Joy was over,  
He begged her Leave to visit brave Mardonius;  
She, loath to part, but more unwilling to deny,  
Dismissed him on his Promise of a quick Return.  
That Visit was the only thing could part 'em,  
And now the King's secure of Opportunity:  
If in the Interim her Husband should return,  
Your Orders are, to give him no Admittance.  
See all the Antichambers cleared! Away! she's here!  [Exeunt. Enter Tamira alone. Tam. 
How tedious are the absent Hours of Love!  
Life's an unpleasing Dream when he's not with me;  
'Tis worse! 'tis Death, and wishing to be born again!  
I am impatient of my State!— When! when, my Love!  
Sure Time stands still, to fly the faster at our Meeting!  
Our Hours in Love have Wings; in Absence, Crutches.  
What can this Music mean?— Addressed to me?  [Soft Music Enter Xerxes, bowing at a distance. 
Good Heaven! the King! and yet I read no Terror  
In his Looks!— Innocence should never know  
The Guilt of Fear: I'm yet—  
To thank him for my Husband's Life!  
[To Xerxes.] When bounteous Heaven gives a surprising Joy,  
We bend our grateful Knees to thank the Gods;  [She kneels. 
King's are their Images: Such Thanks as Heaven.  
Accepts, (the humble All that Man can pay,)  
Receive, O sacred Prince, from me; who, like a God,  
Have given me Life restored, and more than Life,— my Husband!  
Nor would I have you think that any Power on Earth  
But a resistless Love, could e'er have forced  
My honest Heart to brave my Prince's Anger!  Xer. 
Ay! there, indeed, thou'st named a Motive  
That might excuse the foulest Crime,  
And wash it fair as Innocence!  
Unconquerable Love! Oh, who can brave his Power?  
A Power! that braves the eldest Law of Nature:  
Even Self-defence is lost, where he exerts his Sway:  
For, who'd not rather die in Proof of Love,  
Than suffer Life, untasting of his Joys?  
When jove created Love!  
He made a greater God than jove!  
Hadst thou designed the Ruin of my Empire  
At Love's Command, 'twere Treason not t'obey!  
〈◊〉 him alone our Hells or Heaven we prove:  
He bids the Damned despair!— the Happy, love!  Tam. 
Defend me, Heaven! Whither would he drive!  [Aside. Xer. 
Riches, Ambition, Glory, Pride, may boast  
Their several Charms to raise our Souls aloft;  
Yet from the Height of all their towering Thoughts,  
When on the eager Stretches to kiss the Skies,  
Thus do we see 'em lured to Earth, like me,  
And rest their wearied Wings upon the Hand of Love!  [takes her Hand. 
Why dost thou turn away? Is it such Pain  
To be beloved! to be adored!  [Kneels. 
Can Penitence and humble Tears offend thee?  
The Gods are not averse to those. We kneel  
To Heaven, and taste of Mercy!  
O why! why! didst thou take an Angel's Form,  
Without the Softness of an Angel's Mind?  
Canst thou not pity me?  Tam. 
Alas! it is not in my power:  
Still as my Thoughts grow soft, my Husband steals 'em from me!  
And he's so greedy of the Joy, he strips my Soul,  
And leaves me cruel to the World beside.  Xer. 
Be cruel still, yet will I still love on: I have  
Considered all the vain Impossibles of Despair,  
Yet have resolved to use no other Help but Love!  
But such a Love! fed with so soft a Flame!  
So fond of Misery! so impotent of Hope!  
It must be inoffensive to the chastest Ears!  Tam. 
Why do you hold me like a frighted Dove,  
That trembles in your Hand, and murmurs for its Mate?  
'Tis most Inhuman to be cruel 'cause you may.  
'Tis true, I am your Slave, and in your Power.  Xer. 
Behold, I throw it off! Be free: I scorn  
All Power but humble Passion,  
Which thus disrobes the Purple King,  
And strips him to the starving Lover.  
— But shall I, must I starve before so fair a Banquet?  Tam. 
I have no Room  
To entertain another Guest. You may  
Disturb my Love; but never can be welcome to't.  Xer. 
I'll bring with me a tender sighing Heart;  
A Lover's Heart, that bleeds, that languishes,  
And dies, to make me welcome.  Tam. 
Give it to those that starve; on me 'tis lost;  
I, in a faithful Husband, have Eternal Plenty.  Xer. 
Husband's the grossest Food of Love;  
The Ignorant and Vulgar have their Share of him:  
The poor contented Drudge of idle Nature;  
Cheated of Bliss, to be the Tool of Propagation.  
But didst thou know the Joys a Lover brings,  
Thus wouldst thou clasp me in thy willing Arms.  [Embracing her. 
And, mad with wild Desire, confess  
Thou hast been fed, but never knew'st to taste before.  Tam. 
Strike! strike me deaf, ye Gods! O Violence!  
To the Ears of Virtue!  Xer. 
virtue's the Bane of Bliss, and while it checks.  
The Husband's Love, Love leaves the Lover free.  
The Miser Husband starves a generous Flame;  
He thinks you lavish, when you most are kind;  
And even fears to ask—  
What with a Loose the happy Lover takes.  
He's still impatient of unknown Delight;  
Begs with unfated Longings to improve the Bliss,  
And adds, by asking, to the Store of Love.  
By Heaven, she must be mine! my Soul's on fire!  
And while I grasp her thus, she must dissolve, or burn!  
She melts! she pants! her Conscious Eyes confess the Joy,  
And sparkle from her Flames within!  
The God of Love lays prostrate all her Charms,  
And thus I seize her, yielding to my Arms.  [Eagerly embracing her. Tam. 
Tyrant! 'tis false I either melt, or burn:  
Exerting thus the Strength of Innocence,  
I dash thee from thy Lustful Hopes for ever!  [Breaking from him. 
Stand off! approach me not! for if thou dost  
By all the Wrongs of my undaunted Love,  
These Hands, resolved with horrid Force,  
Shall tear my guilty Eyes away, and pash  
The reeking Balls upon the Ground before thee.  Xer. 
Why then the Spirit lied  
That said, I was deceived in Womankind.  
I knew my Hopes to conquer thee were vain:  
I now despair, and that secures my Pleasure!  
Women that yield to Love, or vile Reward,  
Are Things below the Passion of a Monarch's Soul:  
But she that can, like thee, be deafed to Power,  
To conquering Love, yet bear the Rack for Love,  
She is, indeed, a Banquet for the Gods!  
I'll be their Taster now—  
And serve up in Ravishment to them.  
Hadst thou submitted to my eager Love,  
Perhaps in Heat of Blood I had enjoyed thee,  
And after left thee like a common Thing,  
Despised and hated for thy easy giving.  Tam. 
O happy Thought! he teaches me to 'scape him!  
Forgive me, Love, if now I seem the Thing  
That Love should most abhor.  [Aside. Xer. 
Now, where's that Hand will hurt those Beauteous Eyes?  
Srive not! nor think thy Cries can move! yet do!  [Seizing her Hands. 
Resist me still! still Curse my hated Flame!  
'Twill burn the fiercer when opposed:  
Methinks thou art not cold, as I could wish.  
By Heaven, I'll grind thy sullen Hate to Love,  
And glut my Vengeance with abhorred Possession.  Tam. 
And why Abhorred?  [Smiling. 
Can there be Horror in so sweet a Pleasure?  
Can Force be needful to the yielding Fair?  
I find, you think me, what I seemed, all Ice!  
Ah! little! little do you know of Womankind!  
Our Lives! Our Thoughts! Our very Souls are Love.  
Our Tears are Softness, and our Coyness Fear;  
Our Frowns Affected, and our Smiles decoying;  
Our Hearts are Tender, and our Tongues belie 'em;  
Our Wishes secret, and our Eyes betray 'em:  
We must be Cruel, ere we can be kind;  
And use Resistance to be more Desired:  
But when our Cruelty has done its Part,  
And kindly proved how Ill the Wretch can bear,  
Then! Then! Our Joys secure— A look can cure Dispair!  Looks wantonly on him. Xer. 
Amazement!  Tam. 
You thought perhaps, because I bore the Rack,  
That I could only bear an Husband's Love?  
Alas! I suffered that in spite to you,  
Not love to him: For you were then my Foe!  
My Interest Bribed me there to suffer:  
My stolen Pleasures now are all secure,  
The Rack has fixed my Reputation fair,  
It now shines out with such a glaring Light,  
It blinds the Eyes of Jealousy.  
By Heaven I know, were you unkind, or base,  
And should divulge the Joys, I now resolve to give,  
(So fair my Honour stands) it would not be believed.  Xer. 
Nay, than the Spirit did not lie: For I  
Confess, I'm now deceived in Womankind.  Tam. 
And why deceived?  
Could you believe these Eyes, the Stars of Love  
Were fixed? Not Planets wandering round the World  
To search and taste of sweet Variety?  
A Husband's Love! perish the stupid Wretch,  
Whose Heart once fired, seeks not to burn for ever,  
And has an Husband's Fuel to Maintain the Flame?  
I ne'er could find it so: For me! I own?  
An Hundred Eager Lovers have supplied his room,  
Youth's formed to melt, and Charm a Woman's Heart,  
While he abroad has fought his Country's Dause,  
I've still been raising Love Recruits at home.  Xer. 
By all my Hopes a Strumpet!  Tam. 
But all the Conquests, that my Eyes have won,  
Are Poor and Low, Compared to you: To make  
The Monarch of the World Dispair, and Weep!  
Is something sure beyond the Power of Love:  
It Prides my Soul, to think my Frowns have force,  
And charms me now, to dress my Heart in Smiles.  Xer. 
Thy Frowns were Smiles to me: Thy Smiles are common:  
A Monarch cannot Feed, on what has palled his Slaves.  Tam. 
You seem uneasy, Sir, permit me touch your Hand,  
To taste your Kisses! Now you're grown so cold.  Xer. 
Gods! That a Strumpet could appear so chaste!  
Why did I form such Monstrous hopes, to taste  
A Woman's Virtue— 'Tis Notion all!  
Lewdness and Life, are what they take together:  Tam. 
And why! Is that a Name to Fright you?  
Why did you woo, unless to win my Love?  
How could I yield, unless I turned a wanton?  Xer. 
But thou'rt so Foul, I loathe thee:  
With looser Beauties to delight my Blood;  
Such as will sell their Honour for a Price,  
I'm hourly served, and palled! 'Tis Vulgar! No!  
My Hope was here—  
To taste thy Beauty, and thy Virtue too:  
But know, that Royal Appetite's above  
The Handled Offals of a Common Love;  
Thy Virtue Tainted, thou hast lost thy Charms;  
I now condemn thee to thy Husband's Arms:  
But since thy Lust my Furious Love has tamed,  
As a Reward, take all my Guards inflamed:  
Or if they fail to slake thy loose desire,  
So I am free, set all the World on fire.  [Exit Xer. Tam. 
Gods! can it be? Is then the Face of Vice,  
So loathsome even to the Vicious?  
Triumph you Guardian Powers of Virtue!  
And let your Case of Innocence this Day,  
To your Eternal Glory be Recorded;  
For this Escape shall tell the World a Tale,  
To make your Precepts more adored, than ever.  
The looser Beauties now shall blush to hear,  
In what disgrace their lewd Embraces are.  
A Tyrant Lustful, and Debauched with Power;  
In search of Bliss, an Humble Passion wore,  
Concealed his Lust, his slighted Crown threw by,  
And only hoped from Love's Authority:  
But when he found his subtlest Art was Vain,  
Unveiled his Soul, and showed the Brute again.  
The Trembling Nymph Inspired, for succour flies  
To lose Desire, safe in that foul Disguise,  
She Palls his Flame, he starts, and dooms her Back  
To all, that Life can give, or happy Lovers take.  [Exit. At another Door.   

ACT V.  

SCENE, The Palace.  Enter Xerxes Attended. Xer. 
THrough all th'unmeasured Bounds of Wild Delight,  
I never yet could taste substantial Joy,  
Or know one Pleasure more than Common Men.  
If I indulge my Appetite, I'm cloyed;  
Uneasy now, with what I lately longed for:  
If when my Blood is high I taste of Beauty,  
I lose the Bliss, because my Power Commands;  
The Peasant there takes more delight than I  
That Travels through Dispair to sweet Possession.  
When Deaf to Injuries, I make my way  
Through other's Ruin,  
Stern Conscience stops me short, and will be heard,  
She keeps me waking, when the World's at Rest,  
And stuffs my Pillow with a thousannd Thorns!  [A shout at a distance. 
Ha! what mean those shouts! they found of Mutiny!  Enter Cleontes hastily. Cleo. 
Arm! Arm, my Lord! the City's in a Tumult;  
Aranthes having forced the Prison Gates,  
Has freed Mardonius from the Dungeon,  
Who drags his Chains along the Crowded Streets,  
And calls 'em brave Rewards for Loyalty.  Xer. 
Insulting Traitor!  Cleo. 
Another Party here produced a Rack,  
Stained with the Blood of fair Tamira's Wounds!  
Here in another place  
Three dead Virgins, whom you had lately Ravished,  
In spiteful Pomp were carried round the Streets,  
To turn the People's Hearts against you;  
And I much fear, their Fury will be fatal.  Xer. 
Meet they no Opposition?  
The Magistrates, do they stand Idle?  
They're out indeed; but show an Hollow-hearted Power,  
Unarmed, and unresolved to quell 'em:  
'Tis said that Artabanus too,  Xer. 
Let him, Mardonius and Aranthes be prescribed,  
Set on each Head an Hundred Talents:  
Mean while, to make the Rabbel ours, let 'em  
Have leave to Plunder every Rebel's House,  
Then set 'em all on Fire.  
If Children, Wife or Servant there have shelter,  
Let none escape, but bury all in Flames.  
Alarm the Guards! Bar up the Palace Gates, and follow me.  [Exit.  

The SCENE Changes to the City.  Enter Mardonius in Chains, Aranthes Bearing his Sword, Magistrates and People shouting. Aran. 
Fellows in Arms, and you my Friends of Peace,  
Both equally oppressed beneath a Tyrant's Yoke,  
Behold our Liberty in Chains;  
This Loyal Arm and Head busied in Wounds,  
And watching for our Country's Peace and Honour,  
Half starved, and Fettered like a common Traitor;  
Unasked, and unadvised of you, have we presumed  
(Presuming first, you'd not condemn the Action)  
To force the Prison, and set free this Man,  
Free from a Tyrant's Power, but still in Chains;  
If you pronounce 'em worthily put on,  
Him, and his Sword to your discretion we surrender,  
To arm, to execute, or free himself and you.  
Is it your Will he be remanded back,  
To end his Life in shameful Bonds?  
Or shall he take that Sword, enured to Action,  
And lead you forth to brave Revenge, and Liberty?  People. 
Arm him! Arm him! Liberty! Liberty! etc.  They give him the Sword and unbind him. Mar. 
If supple Words  
My Noble Countrymen must speak my Thanks:  
I shall appear ungrateful for this Trust Reposed:  
If Blows have Eloquence, I'll be a Talker:  
Let it suffice, that I am free and Armed.  
Not my own Wrongs; but yours shall edge my Sword,  
Your Liberties Infringed, your Rights destroyed,  
Your ancient Glory sunk in Sloth and Tyranny;  
Your Ransacked Houses, and exhausted Treasure,  
Your Tender Virgins, and your Wives deflowered,  
The public Wrongs, and poor Tamira's Rack,  
Are Stings too venomed, not to swell Resentment,  
Even to your Wishes Height! Once more, I'm Yours;  
Let Heaven but smile tho' Persia's Head lie low,  
I've yet an Arm to ward the Tyrant's Blow.  Exeunt. Omnes. 
Liberty, etc.  Enter an Officer, and Four Soldiers of Artabanus' Party. Offi. 
Here Gentlemen.  
Place yourselves at the Corner of this Street,  
While I go privately to the House;  
If we can bring his Lady safely to him,  
He'll not be wanting to Reward our Care.  [A Shout. 
Hark! the Tumult's near us!  
Ha! What means you Glaring Light!— It seems some Fire!  
By Heaven! the House of Artabanus all in Flames!  
Nay, 'tis the same! I know it by the Portal! look!  
Look! How the Rabble scramble for the Plunder?  
What thankless Care they take to save  
The Plate and Furniture! see! how some venture  
Burning to be Rogues, and yet would Tremble  
Should an Honest Cause Require 'em.  [Rabble within.] 
Away with her, &c,  1st. Sold. 
And see the Torrent Rolls this way.  Offi. 
Ha! By Heaven the Lady too! Tamira  
And her Child rudely Dragged along the Streets.  [Within.] 
Away with her! to the Palace! to the King! away with her!  1st. Sold, 
What's to be done? We are no number to oppose 'em.  Offi. 
Let us run back to Artabanus, and if  
Possible, bring him down to her Relief,  
Before they carry her to the King! Run,  
They are upon us.  [Exeunt. Enter Tamira Plundered, her Hair and clothes disordered; the Rabble with her Child, she striving to recover it. Tam. 
O Barbarous Cruel Men!  
If you are Men, be touched with Human Pity;  
If you seek Blood take mine, but spare  
That harmless Babe! Tear not my Heartstrings from me!  
You once were Young and Innocent yourselves,  
And now perhaps have Children of your own.  
O! Could you bear to see 'em torn by Cruel Hands,  
From off their tender Mother's Breasts?  
Would it not make you Bleed, and tear your Hair,  
And pierce the heavens' with your shreiking Sorrows?  1. Rab. 
Come! I say give her the Child, it has done us  
No harm, and will do us no good!  2. Rab. 
The Child's my lawful Plunder, and I will keep it.  Tam. [Kneeling.] 
Dear Sir, You look with Eyes of Mercy on me;  
If you have Power Command, if Pity speak him fair,  
So at your latest Hour, may you sweet Mercy find  
Of Heaven, as now you show it me.  
But see! His Bloody Arm is Raised! O stop  [She Rises. 
The Fatal Blow! O hold! For pity hold!  
See, Sir, I've that will charm you to Compassion;  
This Diamond—  [Takes it from her Bosom. 2 Rab. 
Ay! That Diamond—  Tam. 
The first dear Pledge of my Unhappy Love,  
To save a more Endearing One;  
Weeping I bestow you: 'Tis all i'th' World  
Of Value I have left me:  
And were I starving now for want of Food,  
If this were only left to feed me, would I starve,  
So much beyond my Life I prize its worth!  
But oh! so far beyond 'em both I love my Child.  2. Rab. 
Ay! now I feel thee Woman! let's see the Ring.  Tam. 
Here, Gentle Sir, and with it take  
Ten Thousand Prayers— Sir—  2. Rab. 
You must have no Child, till I have such another Diamond.  Tam. 
By all my Woes I am a Beggar!  
You cannot be so Cruel to refuse me now;  
Believe me! search! take all! strip me  
To pinching Cold, to every thing but shame.  
Tear off this Idle Robe, it misbecomes me  
While that tender Infant needs it.  3. Rab. 
Pshah! away with her! must we stand to hear  
A Woman Prate?  2. Rab. 
Ay! Ay! away with her! etc.  Tam. 
My Child! O Savage Creatures!  Catching at the Fellow, she falls on the Ground. Om. 
To the King, to the Palace! away with her.  Tam. 
Ha! The King! Not all your force shall drag me;  
Thus will I Dash the Ground, and tear a Passage  
To escape him! Fierce Thunder strike me to the Grave!  
Gape Earth, and take me living down to Horror!  
Torments! any Hell! But Life and Shame! O!  Omn. 
Drag her! away with her, etc.  [They drag her by the Hair. Tam. 
O Cruel! Cruel Men!  [As they are going off. Enter Mardonius, Aranthes, and their Party. Mar. 
What means this strange Disorder Friends?  
Why swarm you thus like angry Bees unhived,  
That sting in wild Revenge, or Friend, or Foe?  
Is it because you want a Head to lead you?  
Or do you blindly serve a Tyrant's Will?  
Why is this Woman rudely dragged along?  [They lose her, as half afraid. Tam. 
Relieve me Heaven!  Mar. 
Now by my Soul! the Fair Tamira. Help ho!  [They Raise her. Tam. 
Protect me, Brave Mardonius!  Mar. 
Protect! Yes, and Revenge thee too; Villains!  Tam. 
Hold! I conjure you hold— Good Sir, be mild,  
And speak 'em fair, or that Revenge  
May cost me dearer, than my Life— my Child!  Mar. 
Ha! Forego the Infant, Slaves!  
Or by the lifted Fury of this Arm—  Tam. 
Oh! do not fright 'em Sir! see! they're merciful  
And kind! they will not hurt the Babe!  They set down the Child, which runs into her Arms. Mar. 
Whence comes this Insolence, you Hounds!  
You hungry yelping Curs, that run at all  
Whence Mischief cries Halloo!  
Is Innocence your Game? Hence! to your Kennels Dogs!  Omn. 
Fly! Fly! etc.  [Beats 'em off. Aran. 
Let 'em run on, they are not worth pursuit,  
Their Fear will soon disperse 'em.  Tam. 
But where's my Lord, my Artabanus, Sir!  
Why is it he's not with you!  Mar. 
Having expected him ere this to join us,  
We sent to know th' occasion of his delay,  
And every Moment wait his Answer.  Aran. 
And see, Sir, the Messenger is returned!  Enter an Officer. Mar. 
Now! Have you seen the General?  Offi. 
My Lord, I found him Posted on a little Hill  
Without the City;  
From whence, Enraged, he saw his House in Flames,  
And led his Men with Fury down to join you:  
As he was Marching on,  
An Officer (whom just before h'had sent  
To find, and bring his Lady to him)  
With breathless haste Informed him that the Rabble,  
Were that very moment dragging her to the Palace;  
At this he Trembled, and his Lips grew Pale;  
But on a sudden, starting from the Fit,  
He Marched his Numbers in disordered haste,  
Straight on to th' Palace, resolving there  
To force the Guards, to Die, or Rescue her;  
And this delays him, Sir.  Mar. 
Ill Timed and dangerous Error!  
But hast! away again, and tell him  
His Tamira's safe with me— If he should force  
The Guards, he runs into the Jaws of Death.  Tam. 
O! Fly before the Danger meets him.  Ex. Officer. Mar. 
Some on before to stop the Fire!  
Tamira be your Care Aranthes,  
While I with these March on to his Assistance.  Ex. Tam. and Aran. Enter a Second Officer Wounded. Offi. 
Arm! Arm!  Mar. 
How now Soldier! What mean these Wounds?  Offi. 
My Lord, they faintly speak our General's Danger.  Mar. 
Where is he?  Offi. 
This Moment Storming at the Palace Gate,  
I left him there demanding his Tamira,  
And threatening if refused▪ to bury it in 〈◊〉  
At which the King in mad Revenge grown desperate,  
Threw him an Handkerchief Distained with Blood,  
And cried, take there! There's all that's left  
Of thy Tamira now, the rest of her is Cold.  
Swelled with that Sight, he flew with Fury on the Guards,  
And now Impatient of Revenge, like Wildfire throws  
Destruction round him for a Time;  
But must at last Expire, and let his curious Foes  
With safe Amazement, view the wondrous shell that held it.  
Alas! I fear you'll be too late: But yet  
There's Hope in haste, my Lord, to stem this Flood of Ruin.  Mar. 
O Fatal Error! on to the Palace! March!  Exeunt.  

SCENE The Palace.  An Alarm is heard, several run o'er the Stage; and Xerxes in Disorder. Omn. 
Fly! Fly! they are Entering! they are upon us: Fly!  Exeunt. Xer. 
Confusion! How the Slaves forsake me!  
They've caught me in the Snare! Nor can I 'scape 'em now.  
Let 'em go all! I'll stand the shock alone!  
The fearful Stag at Bay will Fight,  
Will die revenged upon his Hunters;  
And the fierce lion's wilder in the Toil:  
Shall Danger shake a Monarch's Soul?  
Now by my Crown's Right Royal Majesty  
I will not fall! What Hoa! my Beaver Slaves!  
I'll put the Godhead on, and Destiny  
Shall tear her Idle Scrolls of Fate decreed;  
For she has written false of me! I will not die,  
Nor shall my Foes have power to Face me!  
Thus with this Awful Front,  
I'll look the Raging God within,  
And Frown 'em into Fear!— Thou Pale faced Slave!  [Shout & Clashing. Enter a Soldier. Sol. 
My Lord, Your Guards are half destroyed,  
The rest Revolted all to Artabanus,  
Who like a Deluge, with his Force comes Rolling in.  Xer. 
Let him Rowl on!  
He meets a Rock will stand unmoved his Roar,  
And dash him into Dew.  [Shout again. Enter Artabanus Pressing back his Followers. Art. 
On pain of Death let no Man follow me!  Xer. 
How darest thou Slave!  
With that Rebellious Face Confront-thy King,  
Or Tempt the Vengeance of a waking Deity?  Art. 
When Kings are Cast in Moulds Divine,  
We find their Actions Great and Pitiful:  
Pity's the Noblest Composition of a God.  
But thou hast none! No soft Compassion ever touched thee.  
Tigers and Wolves, to thee, are tame! See here,  [The Handkerchief. 
The rueful Flag proclaims thee worse than Tyrant:  
Or if a nearer Name can reach thee— Devil!  Xer. 
Traitor—  Art. 
From any Mouth but thine, would shock my Soul.  
Or if I am a Traitor▪  
Even those just Powers that gave me Virtue,  
When they behold the Wrongs that raised my Arm,  
Will sure allow, I was not prompt to Ill,  
Not easily disloyal— My Virtue did its part:  
If held, it struggled stoutly to be tame.  
But here's a Force would break the strongest Hold,  
And turn even Pity to Revenge and Rage.  
If yet the Horror of the Deed  
Has left thee Temper, speak! What had the poor  
Tamira done, to merit such a Death?  
Why hast thou killed—  
The tenderest Mother, and the softest Wife?  Xer. 
But that I know to say, will gall thy Heart,  
I'd spurn thee, Traitor, for this bold Demand;  
Daring to ask a Reason of thy Monarch's Will:  
But, as a God, to Thunderstrike thy Soul,  
I tell thee, Slave, I Whored her to a Dis-liking,  
And then she was unfit for Life:  
Nor could I brook to let her live for thee,  
After the Stamp of Royal Love was on her.  Art. 
O savage! bloody Tyrant! The Horror of his Words  
Has numbed my Senses, and drowns my weak Revenge in Tears.  Xer. 
Now, By my Glorious Brother in the Skies,  
My Words have more than Power of common Kings;  
They're something near! 'Tis Second Fate  
To strike this hardy Soldier pale with Fear!  
He weeps! he dies!— I've looked him to a Ghost!  Art. 
And art thou dead! Our Infant-Love for ever parted▪  
— No more of Woman now!— Farewell!  
Nor need I this to dry my Tears,  
The Thirst of Vengeance rages in my Blood,  
And drinks 'em faster than they flow—  
Hear, hear me, Gods! Revenge your Heads profaned;  [Kneels. 
And as the Cause, the woeful Cause, is yours,  
So from this Arm (your not unwilling Instrument)  
Hurl swift Destruction to the Tyrant's Heart—  [Rising. Xer. 
I laugh at all that Fate can do▪ Come on, rash Fool!  
And if thy Life's a Pain, (as, sure, a Rebel's aught,)  
Thus Hand to Hand opposed, Death never took  
A Nobler Form to face thee—  Art. 
Now, By the Sun's Refulgent Ray,  
I meet thee worthy of my Rage.  
Oh! I could thank thee that thy Blood's so high:  
That Manly Fury in thy Eyes transports me!  
It sets the Noble Front of Honour in my View,  
And heightens my Revenge with Glory.  [They fight; and after some Passes, Xerxes speaks. Xer. 
Confusion! How he dallies with my Fury!  
But thus I pour it all at once  
And certain send thee to the Shades.  Art. 
And thus the Gods re-pay thee—  [B fall. Xer. 
Furies! and Hell! They've struck me now indeed!  
But if there be Hereafter, I'll revenge it still:  
Rebellion from the lowest Shades shall rise,  
And give 'em fresh Alarms of War,  
More dreadful than their puny Giants Rage:  
The desperate Fiends, by me to Freedom led,  
Shall dash their Chains against their Crystal towers,  
And shake their Heaven to Horror!— Oh! I am faint!  
My gushing Blood flows inward to my Throat.  
And drives out Life before it! Ha! 'tis false!  
I am not dying! No! I'm weary of the World,  
And now will sleep for ever!—  [Dies. Art. 
When I behold this Sight, I wish to follow thee:  
Death cannot be more terrible;  
His Hand is on me, and his Looks are mild.  
To be no more, is now to be most happy.  
Oh, for a Friendly Witness of my Glory! Hark!  [A Trumpet. 
My Fortune's kind, I hear 'em coming!  Enter Mardonius and his Party. 
Oh! welcome Friend! My Fellow-Soldiers, welcome!  
See there the Wounds of Persia cured, the Tyrant's dead:  
By me he fell, and poor Tamira is revenged.  Mar. 
Horror on Horror! Thy Tamira lives!  
And comes with eager Love to meet thy Arms:  
Oh! rather had she died, than thus to meet thee!  Art. 
What means my Friend? Tamira living?  Mar. 
Run! Haste, and tell her of this bloody Chance!  
If she would see her Husband, she must fly.  [Exit a Soldier. 
Alas, my Friend! That Gory Handkerchief  
Was only by the Tyrant thrown to gall thee:  
Thy poor Tamira lives! This Moment dragged along  
By the rude Rabble, I redeemed her safe.  
But hark! Aranthes brings her on! He faints!  [A Trumpet at a distance. 
O Cruel! Gods! can you not lend one Hour  
To a departing Lover!  Art. 
Grieve not for me! Give to my Wife thy Tears;  
She'll need a Friends Compassion: Let not her Sorrows  
(For I know she'll mourn my Fall) be desperate:  
Her little Infant will require some Care;  
I charge her, live for that—  
Commend me to her Heart, and let her know,  
My latest dying Words, and Thoughts,  
Confessed her Loving, more than Life beloved—  [Dies. Mar. 
He's gone! O Freedom dearly bought!  
Unwelcome Peace! Without the Life that gave it.  
But see, his frighted Widow comes! O mournful Thought!  
O piteous Woman!  Enter Aranthes, with Tamira: She runs to the Body. Tam. 
Where! where's my bleeding Lord? Stand off!  
O give him to my Arms! Ha!— Speechless! and pale! Oh!  Aranthes. 
Help ho! she sinks; le's raise her from him.  Tam. 
Oh! we must never part,  
But with more Pain than Bodies lose their Souls.  
Dear Sir, for Pity's sake oppose me not:  
Even in your Eyes I read a Friend's Concern;  
But mine's a nearer tie! a Wife! Alas!  
I was his Wife, his tender Wife beloved.  Mar. 
Indeed, I pity thee: But yet, call Reason to thy Aid.  Tam. 
Ah! Do I not, my Lord? Are not my Tears my Duty?  
Have I not Cause to tear my Flesh, to bleed,  
And dash me on the Ground?—  
Oh! could my Tears but fall like Showers from Heaven,  
This dismal Object, sure, would drown the World.  Mar. 
Be comforted, fair Creature!  
Nothing is ours: Nature but lends us Life.  
Since Death's a Debt that all must pay—  Tam. 
Since he is dead, is there a Comfort left me?  
Oh! I could out-weep the Southern Clouds! Away,  
And give my Sorrows Room: Stand off!  
And let me fill my Arms with Woe:  [Embracing the Body. 
Grudge me not this! This Ease of Misery indulged,  
Let me but talk a while, and gaze, and kiss  
His cold, unfeeling Lips, and you shall see me quiet;  
Hushed as the Cradle-Babe,  
When chidden by its angry Parent to a Slumber.  [Weeps over him. Aran. 
Give her her Way, my Lord!  
Her Grief swells higher when opposed.  Mar. 
By Heaven, this stubborn Heart, that has, unmoved,  
Walked by a Heap of groaning Foes,  
At this sad Sight is melted down to Woman.  Tam. 
Hush!— Who's that, weeps so loud!— You'll wake my Lord!  
He is not well,— he slumbers, and a cold,  
Damp Sweat is on his Brow! O my poor Love!  
Hark! hark! He calls me in his Sleep! He chides;  
Says I am unkind and fear to follow him!  
As if the Terror were not in Life behind him! Ha!  
What means this Friendly Weapon at my Breast?  
It looks not, sure, as if the Hand of Chance,  
But Love, had laid it, to relieve my Woes!  
— 'Tis so!— 'Twas Love:— and Love applies it here!  [She stabs herself with her Husband's Sword. Aran. 
O fatal Deed!  Mar. 
O rash Despair!  Tam. 
Call it not rash, when there's such Ease in Death.  
But Death, alas! is never wholly kind,  
For tho' I'm pleased to think I had not Power▪  
T' out live my Lord, yet, Oh! it grieves my Heart  
That I have robbed an Infant of its Mother.  
Oh! be a Friend to that; and teach him, Sir,  
To keep the Middle-Paths of Active Life,  
When wild Ambition, or too powerful Love,  
With eager Heat would drive him blindly on;  
Be kind, and warn him with his Parents Ruin.  [Dies. Mar. 
There broke  
The tenderest Heart that ever sighed in Love:  
But Love was her Undoing; for once,  
In wild Revenge, to right her Love betrayed,  
She struck a Poniard to the Villain Memnon's Heart.  
The Gods have frowned; but Men must pity her:  
Nay, Heaven but half resents her Fault, gives her  
A kind, a not untimely Death: 'Twas then  
Too late to live, when all she loved was gone.  
Remove the Bodies, never more to part:  
Living, one chaste Bed; now one Grave shall hold 'em.  
But here, the Gods with Terror strike Mankind.  [Turning to Xerxes. 
Let Kings and jarring Subjects hence be warned,  
Not to oppress, or drive Revenge too far:  
Kings are but Men, and Men by Nature err,  
Subjects are Men, and cannot always bear  
Much should be born before Revenge is sought:  
Ever Revenge on Kings is dearly bought.  
Yet, to our Woes, the Gods this Comfort give;  
From those that die, the Living learn to live.    
The END.