DARIUS KING oF PERSIA. A TRAGEDY As it is Acted by Their Majesty's Servants.  
First Edition.  
Written by Mr. CROWN.  
LONDON: Printed for R. Bentley at the Posthouse in Russel-street in Covent-Garden, 1688.   

TO Sir GEO. HEWYTT Baronet, One of the Lieutenants of His Majesty's Horse Guard.  
SIR,  
POOR Darius is decreed ro be unfortunate every where. His Stars pursue him two thousand years after his death, tear his Image, and employ his Friends against him▪ for I am one of 'em. I find him in Curtius, a Prince of Valour, Clemency, Justice, and great moral Virtues, suffering under the heaviest calamities, that ever befell Man. And I have much pity for him; and more abhorrence for the Villains that Murdered him, than those that cut off Aexander. Darius has no success, the greater still the pity. If Alexander moves my pity, 'tis when he has success, because 'tis the ruin of his great Virtues. Darius never parted with his; nor good nor ill Fortune vanquished his Virtue, that Darius, of the two, seems the greater Conqueror, and in a common Wagon gored in his Blood, appears a more Glorious Prince, than Alexander in his Chariot triumphing over the Indians. For Darius in all misery triumphs over Fortune. Fortune most insolently triumphs over Alexander. The description Curtius gives of him and his Army, when they came from the Conquest of the Indies, is a perfect picture of one of our lewd debauchees of quality, coming in the head of drunken Ruffians from beating a Watch. Curtius' says, a thousand sober Men might have taken 'em all prisoners. And no doubt, could a lusty whiggish London Watch have met with 'em, Alexander the Great had been carried to the Counter, notwithstanding his Royal Dignity, or perhaps the sooner for it. Therefore, if Darius moves no pity, I am afraid it is not his fault, but mine; and he is once more fallen into ill hands. I am apt to think I committed a fault, in not taking the whole Story; but leaving out Queen Statira, and her two Daughters, High-born Princesses, well known to the World, whose misfortunes would have probably moved more compassion, than those of a strange Lady, obscurely descended from my Fancy, which I have introduced in their stead. But when I first contrived and writ this Play, my Judgement was overborne by some I much regard; who told me, those Princesses had been already seen very often, their Beauties would now seem stale, and a new Face be more agreeable. My judgement at that time might be easily born down, for it was weak, as I myself was, by a redious sickness, else I had not meddled with Tragedy; for there is nothing more plain, than that the humour of the present Age runs quite to another extreme, too far. Nor do the present Company of Actors abound with Tragedians enough, to master that Humour. And they have no reason to contend with it, since they can please at a much cheaper rate, by Farce and Comedy; and truly so can I, they cost me less pains than Tragedy does. But when I first meddled with this Play, and long after, I was not in Humour for Comedy. A Poet, like a Fiddle, will never sound merrily in wet weather. The Trebles, which are the strings for Jigs, will nor endure stretching. So I was forced on grumbling Tragedy; and having done something in it, was loath to lose my labour. Thus much I am willing to say against myself, because it is Truth. But as I will not be arrogant, so not over-fawning, because there is Foppery and Affectation in both. A misfortune fell upon this Play, that might very well dizzy the Judgements of my Audience. Just before the Play began, Mrs. Barry was struck with a very violent Fever, that took all Spirit from her, by consequence from the Play; the Scenes She acted fell dead from her; and in the 4th Act her distemper grew so much upon her, She could go on no farther, but all her part in that Act was wholly cut out, and neither Spoke nor Read; that the People went away without knowing the contexture of the Play, yet thought they knew all. Now we know, how hard it is to recover the Reputation of one that's executed; it is almost as hard as it is to recover his Life. The circulation of Blood is stopped in the Strangled; and the circulation of Reason in the Living, by violent prepossessions. And when the multitude are possessed of any thing, it is not easy to get it from 'em. They have great Strength and Authority too. And not alone in these trifles, but in things of the highest consequence, even in matters of Religion. As in these toys, People dare not be pleased, but as they find others are; so in Religion, they dare not be saved, but in the way they find others go. Now though in matters of Religion, where Truth is of great concernment, and to suffer for it, Honourable and Advantageous, a Man may boldly contend with the whole World; but in so foolish a Cause, as whether the fall of Darius be a good Story of a Play, and whether I have managed it well, or no, to hector the World, if it dares differ from me, would be notorious Arrogance and Folly; nay, Injustice too: for let Men have what Opinions they will, of this Play, they have paid me for 'em, and paid me handsomely, why should I seek to take it from 'em? I will then say no more concerning the Play; if that be faulty, I must take care to have the fewer faults in myself. But certainly I shall not be endured by any good Man, nay, even by myself, if I should not here take occasion, to render, with all possible Humility and Dutifulness, my Thanks to His Majesty, for the Honour of his Presence, on the Day which was to be for my advantage; which He was pleased to Grant me, out of a most Gracious and Royal regard to what had formerly appeared well in me, both as a Poet and a Subject. I know not how the Minds of others are wrought upon; but such a piece of Royal Justice and Favour is to me more strong than a Law to bind me for ever to my good Behaviour. I cannot also forbear to mention the many special Favours, I have received from the present Lord Chamberlain. Obligations are Chains, but when they come from Princes, and Men of worth, they are badges of Honour, and a Man is tempted to show 'em, when he goes abroad, I confess, not only my Gratitude, but my Vanity, makes me name him, Past dispute his excellent Understanding, and many other great Qualities, are an Ornament to his High Office; then well may His Favours be a Grace to me.  
Now, SIR, I shall come to you, I have received several kindnesses from you, have found in you at all times, an inclination and readiness to do me any friendly Office; all which have extremely won upon me; and I am very uneasy under Obligations, till I have made some return. But I can make no other, than of this kind, which I therefore beg you to accept. It is true, common Dedicators have brought this sort of Addresses into as much contempt, as common Evidences have done Swearing. The true and first intent of 'em was Sacred. A Dedication ought to be a little Chapel, Consecrated to the Memory of some Friend of Worth; and a Repository of Holy Relics. Now 'tis become like the Temple Church, a place where Knights of the Post ply; that are ready to say any thing for any one. But I have kept a better Reputation in the World, you will come amongst good company. There are few Names fixed before my Writings, but may serve like the Phenix's, on the Front of our new Buildings, for marks of Insurance; and might insure 'em, were it possible. But I come to you with no such foolish design. For how ridiculous, and unreasonable is it, to desire another to defend my impertinence? An office no wise Man will undertake, and the greatest Man that is cannot perform. My Writings, when they are out of my hand, are no longer mine; the World pays for 'em, and will manage 'em as they please. All care of 'em is vain, therefore I take none. My Honesty no Man shall dispose of but myself. 'Tis to preserve that, and not my Writings, I beg your leave for this Address; and I would not accept your leave, if it would cost me any flattery. You have lived in the last Court, and this, with great Reputation. Have approved yourself, to be a Man of Honour, Loyalty, Courage, Generosity, good Sense, good Nature, and good Morals; which ought to be celebrated for the public Good, which too much wants such examples. I know how ill the sick and corrupt World, digests the least praise of any but themselves. How tired even good Men are, if you lead 'em far into the commendation of any Man; and the bad will not go along with you, but on some ill design. Therefore I shall keep where I am safe, where every Man will be o' my side. No Man that knows you, but confesses you to be one of the worthiest Gentlemen they know. I should therefore show very little worth of myself, if I should slight both your Favour and Desert. And, SIR, I hope you, who have forgiven Writings of mine, that show my Follies; will not be displeased with this Dedication, where I show the few Virtues I have, my Justice, and Integrity, which are the best claims I have to the Title of  
SIR, Your most Humble and Obliged Servant, JOHN CROWN.   

Dramatis Personae.  

DArius, King of Persia.  
Artabasus, A Nobleman, of great Quality, Loyalty, Years, General of all the King's Armies.  
Bessus, Viceroy of Bactria.  
Nabarzanes, Viceroy of Hyrcania.  
Memnon, A beautiful valiant Loyal young Man, Son of Bessus— by an Amazon Queen.  
Patron, A valiant faithful Greek; General of the Greek Auxiliaries, that serve in the Persian Army.  
Dataphernes, A Bactrian Officer that serves under Bessus.  
Barzana, A beautiful Princess o'the Royal Blood, Married to Bessus.  
Oronte, Her Confident.   
SCENE, The Plains, and Town of Arbela in Persia.   

THE PROLOGUE.  
WHen a young Writer Poetry first woos,  
Oh! how he's charmed with a fond flattering Muse;  
Scorns Physic, Law, Divinity; he climbs  
To Heaven, by Ladders made o' Ropes o' Rhimes.  
Finds Heaven and Gold in Verse, and while he pores,  
He pities Judges, bishops', Chancellors;  
They ne'er attain his Joys, they're Rich, and Great,  
But he's above 'em all, for he's a Wit;  
A Prince in Verse, and Princes Titles give.  
His Pen at will makes Honour die, or live.  
He dubbs this Man a Knave, a Coxcomb that;  
Gives any Brow a horny Coronet.  
Orders some famous Beauty every hour  
His Letters Patents to be called a Whore,  
Deserved, or not, he does it all by Power.  
Thus like a Beau, and Bully o' the Town,  
He by debauching Beauties gets Renown:  
That is, their Names, for he enjoys not one,  
Thus was our Poet, by his Muse drawn in;  
'Tis true, she always innocent has been,  
Kept Shop, like a good creditable Cit,  
But traded in damned never thriving Wit.  
Lawyers have Fees, howe'er their Causes go,  
And Parsons with lean Sermons fat can grow,  
Of Lawyers your undoing you must buy;  
And Doctors will not cheaply let you die;  
The vilest Quack by ignorance can get,  
More than the best of Poets by his Wit.  
Then you may ask, Why will the Poet Write?  
He says, his Genius bids, and Hours invite.  
No lumbring business in his way is laid,  
His Life's a private and a vacant Shade;  
And with design, both to instruct and please,  
He plants the Walks with various Images.  
And humbly prays you, if with Art he writes,  
You'll not take pains to damn your own Delights.  
Nay, do not damn him much, if he writes ill;  
For than he writes like you— that is Gentile.   

DARIUS, King of PERSIA.  

ACT I.  

SCENE, The Field; Trumpets Sound.  Enter Artabasus, Bessus, Nabarzanes, Memnon, Patron, Dataphernes. Persians, Bactrians, Greeks. Ar. 
SO now, my Lords, the dreadful day is near,  
That will for ever ruin, or confirm,  
The greatest Throne, that ever the Sun saw.  
To Morrow, oh! to Morrow— thou art big  
With vast events; time never produced the like.  
At Granicus we had not half our strength.  
But in this Army is all Persia.  Be. 
I think, my Lord, we are effective Men  
Seven hundred thousand.  Ar. 
Ay, and more, my Lord.  Na. 
Yet, of all these, my Lord, you and I lead  
Scarce Fifteen thousand,  (Aside to Be. Be. 
Silence.  Ar. 
We have left  
Our Cities, Towns, and Fields, all desolate;  
That one would think the Conqueror had been there,  
The Valleys bend beneath us, the Hills groan;  
The Fields, nay, all the Heavens seem to stretch,  
And give us room; and we have room to Fight.  
We are not here at the Cilician straits.  
Where we were prisoners ere the Fight begun;  
Penned in with Mountains that clipped both our wings,  
And squeezed our Bodies close, till it became  
As weak, and slender as the Enemy.  
The King has done his Duty, furnished all  
This multitude with Arms, and Ground to fight,  
And his own Glorious example too.  
Let us do ours, but dare be Conquerors,  
We shall be so, we must be so, or Ghosts,  
Or worse, poor wretched Slaves, our Liberties  
Our Fortunes, Wives and Children, are all here.  
Lord Bessus, is not your fair Princess here,  
The King's late beauteous Gift?  Be. 
She is, my Lord.  Ar. 
Would you not rather see that Beauty dead,  
Than given up to Macedonian Lust?  Be. 
She shall be rather by my Sword enjoyed.  Ar. 
And here I see your Son, a Noble Youth.  Me. 
Oh! my good Lord.  Ar. 
Lord Memnon, give me leave.  
I think, Lord Bessus, I have heard you say,  
An Amazonian Queens warlike Embrace  
Presented you this Gift.  Be. 
'Tis true, my Lord.  Ar. 
Believe it, 'Twas a bounty to the World.  Me. 
Nay, now my Lord.  Ar. 
Nay, pray, let me be just.  
Who would not grieve to see this worth in chains?  
And yet, now I reflect, more worth than his,  
Ay, or than half our Kingdom is in chains.  
Even half our King is there; and almost all  
The Royal Blood, but what is in his veins.  
His Mother, Brother, Daughters, little Son,  
Nay more, his beauteous Queen are slaves to those,  
To whom they once scorned to be Sovereigns.  
Two Royal Virgins in their early Spring  
Lie like fallen Blossoms, at their Mother's feet.  
At her fair Bosom hangs her Infant Son  
A withering branch, torn from his once great hopes;  
He, who was lately Heir of half the World,  
Is now, not Lord of his poor little Self,  
His greatest happiness is Ignorance;  
He does not know the Glory he has lost,  
But hugs the Enemy that ruins him.  
The Conqueror cannot see this, without Tears,  
And cursing his unfortunate success.  
And then, oh! Can it be endured by us?  
But I may spare all this, to Men so brave,  
So tried, as you have to your Glory been,  
Lord Bessus, Nabarzanes, and your Troops.  Na. 
We may one day be tried upon yourselves.  (aside. Be. 
Silence, Lord Nabarzanes— have a care—  (aside. Ar. 
Fortune, Lord Bessus, seems afraid of you.  
She's Alexander's Mistress, but you Slave;  
She gives him Favours, but you ravish 'em.  
At our great blow, at the Cilician straits  
All came off safe, as privileged from Fate,  
That kept within the precincts of your Sword.  Be. 
Indeed, my Lord, my Bactrians did well.  Ar. 
And you, Lord Patron, and your valiant Greeks,  
Must give me leave to give you your due praise:  
These gallant Men are to our Fortune tied  
By indispensable Allegiance.  
But you are strangers, loose from any bonds.  Pa. 
My Lord, we are for ever bound to you  
By Gratitude, and Honour; Greece indeed  
Gave us our birth, but you our happiest hours,  
That our best Blood is yours.  Ar. 
Most Noble Lord;  
Well, If we fail to morrow 'twill be strange,  
We have the strength of this vast Monarchy,  
The justice of our Cause, Necessity,  
Ay, and th' inconstancy of Fortune too.  
That mutability which ruined us,  
In the last Field, may be our Friend the next.  
Now to your Tents, and take a brief repose,  
That so prepared, you may not be surprised.  
The King suspects, these Macedonian Thiefs  
Will act like Thiefs, and steal on us by night,  
They will not dare to look on us by day;  
And therefore he has wisely given Command,  
Great part o'th' Army be in Arms all night;  
And all be ready at the Trumpets sound.  Be. 
'Tis wisely ordered.  Ar. 
Now, my Lords, Good Night.  Be. 
My Lord, we wish your Excellence Good night.  
Heaven give us all to Morrow a Good Day.  (Ex. Ar. Pa. 
I'll to my Charge; my Lords, Good night to you.  (Ex. Pa. Be. 
Good Night, Lord Patron; this is a brave Greek.  Na. 
And our old General a brave Persian.  Be. 
He's like the Sun, a Largesse to the World;  
And not to be consumed by age or toil.  Na. 
The King, and he, are th'only gallant Men  
In this whole Nation.  
Be. Memnon, to your Tent.  
Mem. Good Night, my lord—  (Ex. Mem. Be. 
He's honest, but he's young.  
Our talk has too much weight for his green youth.  Na. 
And our Affairs, I think, have so much weight,  
We shall not sleep beneath 'em much to night.  Be. 
'Tis true, my Lord, come let us to my Tent,  
Come with us, Dataphernes.  Da. 
Ay, my lord—  Ex. All go out, and re-enter immediately.  

SCENE, Bessus' Tent.  Be. 
Our Fortune places us in a strange Post;  
For we are bound to fight against ourselves.  
Let who will conquer, we shall be subdued.  
For, say the Persian Army gets the day;  
We know they cannot do it without us;  
The noble fruits of our own Gallantry  
Will all be set in this luxurious Soil.  
Our Swords will be as barren as our Lands.  
These Cowards must rule the Brave, by whom they rule.  Dat. 
They Govern us! they ha' not power to rule  
Men, Wine, or Women; or their own Silkworms.  
The Men are all devoured by Luxury,  
And Alexander only has the Orts.  Na. 
Therefore they're nauseous both to Heaven and Earth.  
And it is insolence, in mortal Man,  
To force upon the Gods what they disgust.  
Cram Nations down the throat of Providence,  
Which it throws up again in every field.  Dat. 
I do declare, I'd no more fight, to guard  
The King's Dominions over heartless Cowards,  
Than I would fight for Eagles, to defend  
Their Principality over the Birds.  Be. 
Nay, I have ever thought, a Persian King  
Was at the most but Master of a Mint.  
Persia has Gold and Jewels, but no Men;  
It has been long depopulated, all  
By Slavery, and Vice; by Women too.  
Women should fill, and they unman, their Towns,  
War lays 'em not so waste, War mars and makes.  
This War has made more Men, than it has killed;  
The slaughtered heaps were only loads of Clay,  
Where there was the Image of a Man.  Na. 
My Lord, they are all Images of Whores.  
They march into the field, rather equipped  
Like Ladies for a Ball, than Troops for War.  
like Women too, with weapons weaponless,  
They die unwounded by the sight of Wounds;  
And serve the Ravens up in massy Plate.  
The Persian Crows are fed in greater pomp.  
Than Kings of Macedon.  Dat. 
Oh! never cowards.  
Were at more cost, nobly to hide themselves.  
The Men cannot be seen for Plumes, and Gold.  
Nor can the Gold for Diamonds be seen.  
The Royal Metle is oppressed by Jewels.  
Their modest Swords, which abhor nakedness,  
(Though Heaven knows in State of Innocence)  
Sleep in their Scabbards, as in Velvet Beds,  
Under rich Coverlids of clustered Pearl.  Na. 
And to what end is this, they only prove  
Fine Sumpter Horses to the Enemy,  
To carry Baggage for 'em to the field.  Be. 
Yet they must Lord it o'er brave Nations,  
Who can subdue both Men and Elements.  
How does our naked flesh vanquish the cold?  
How oft is Snow our only Winter Shirt?  Na. 
Yet does our Gallantry far exceed theirs.  
We have no Ladies Favours on our Swords,  
But Victories, the Favours of the Gods,  
Are always there.  Be. 
No thanks to Persians,  
Who do not only quit us in the field,  
And so most cowardly expose our lives,  
But stint our Troops, that they may starve our Fame.  
I have five thousand Horse, and only fight  
To be a slave to Cowards.  Na. 
Nay, to Brutes.  
Europeans are Men, for they enjoy  
Their Reason, wisely gathered into Laws.  
Here they are Brutes, for only strength commands.  
Our only Law is, that there is no Law.  
All things are lawful here, to Power, but Laws.  
The only rule of Justice, here, is Might,  
The strong devour the weak, and no wrong done.  
The Wolf is not unjust that eats the Lamb.  
The Lamb is in the wrong to be a Lamb.  Be. 
In short, the Nature of the King is mild,  
But cruel is the Nature of his Crown.  
Then to whose lot soever it befalls,  
If I survive, they shall not keep it long.  
Not, that I mean to fix it on my Head,  
But to Crown Nature, Freedom, and Sense.  
In which, all Men have equal shares with me.  Na. 
My Lord, you'll have a Crown in those great Thoughts;  
Not what's without, but what's within the Brow,  
Should be the mark of Sovereign Dignity.  Be. 
How goes the night away?  Na. 
The Morning Star  
Long since gave Darkness warning to be gone.  Dat. 
See, fee, 'tis gone; the day possesses Heaven.  Be. 
Nay, then 'tis time, we wait upon the King.  Na. 
'Tis more than time, no doubt he's come abroad,  
I see his Golden Chariot guild that Hill.  Be. 
Then he is there viewing the Enemy.  Dat. 
Now all the shining Crowd descend this way.  
Let us go pay our adorations.  Na. 
Our Adorations to a mortal Man? ha! ha!  Be. 
Now Gods aid us, whoever you destroy.  
These Kings but for one Man their Swords employ.  
Each for himself has all his Force designed,  
We fight for you, and for all your Mankind.  
They would be Sovereign Lords, but I contend  
Only to be your Creatures Sovereign Friend.—  Ex. All sorts of Martial Music. Enter Priests bearing Fire on Silver Altars; Then a train of Officers in Golden Robes and Collars; Then Darius, followed by Artabasus, Bessus, Nabarzanes, Memnon, Patron. The King surveys 'em; and all prostrate themselves, and kiss the ground; Patron excepted, who only bows. Da. 
I gave command, the ground where I expect.  
The Enemy's Horse to Charge, should be stuck full  
Of sharp and bearded Irons, but with marks  
For us to know, and shun 'em.— Is it done?  Ar. 
'Tis, Mighty Sir.  Dat. 
'Tis well, I am informed,  
Our rash, fierce Enemies are become wise.  
The sight of this vast dreadful multitude  
Has cooled their boiling Blood.  Be. 
Sir, so we hear.  
Mem. Sir, 'Tis no more than Truth, and what I saw,  
I was commanded, with a thousand Horse,  
To make discovery how the Enemy lay.  
Fear was to them a multiplying Glass.  
They believed all your Army was come down;  
And cried, Darius— Arm—! Darius here!  
Your Royal Name alone half routed 'em.  
Nay, I was told even Alexander feared  
The dreadful Shouts of your vast multitudes  
Shook Forests, Mountains, and the Conqueror's Heart;  
And gave us time to make a good retreat.  Pa. 
Nay, if that Prince has Fear, it comes from Heaven,  
For Terror is not natural to him.  Da. 
'Tis true; the Omen appears promising.  Enter Dataphernes. Da. 
The Eunuch Tyriotes, Royal Sir,  
That lately did attend upon the Queen,  
Has made escape out of the Enemy's Camp,  
And brings some mournful news.  Da. 
Ha! from my Queen?  Dat. 
His Eyes are drowned in Tears, and Garments torn.  Da. 
Nay, than it is my turn to tremble now;  
If ill but threatens her, it destroys me.  
Bring hither Tyriotes,— bring my death.  Be. 
Were it not better, Sir, defer the news,  
And not begin the day?—  Da. 
Dispute my Will?—  Enter Tyriotes. 
Come hither, speak, while I have sense to hear.  
Silence is vain, thy Garments and thy Eyes  
Plunge me into a thousand torturing fears.  
Speak— Do not spare me, 'cause thou seest me Grieve,  
For I have learned to be unfortunate,  
And to the wretched 'tis a little ease,  
To know how far their Misery will extend,  
— Oh! I distrust one thing, I hate to think  
Much more to speak.— Thou com'st to let me know  
She whom I prize above my Crown and Life,  
Has in her miserable vassalage,  
Received Indignities I cannot name.  
Say— ease my Torments— stab me with the Truth.  Ty. 
Oh! let not, Sir, vain fears, afflict your Heart,  
Your real cause of sorrow, is too much.  
But oh! the generous Conqueror paid your Queen  
All Honours, that a Slave could give his Prince;  
He rather did appear a slave to her.  
But now She is no more— your Queen is dead.  Ar. 
How? the Queen dead?  Da. 
— Martyred for Chastity—  
'tis so— 'tis so— She did oppose his Lust  
And he has murdered her.— Barbarian.—  
What injuries have I done to thee, and thine,  
That thou shouldst take this infamous revenge?  
There's no just reason for thy War on me,  
But say, 'tis Glorious to subdue a King,  
Can it be so to violate a Queen?  
Couldst thou not spare her Beauty, and her Sex?  Ty. 
Oh! Sir, he did.— again y'afflict yourself  
With Visions, Shadows.— She received from him  
All kind, and honourable usage, Sir.  Da. 
Ha! kind?  Ty. 
Yes, Sir— for when She died, he wept;  
You cannot more lament.  Da. 
Ha! This is worse—  
There was a friendship grown between them then.  
And he had Favours from her.— it was so—  
Men lament not the death of Enemies.  
I cannot bear the Thought.  Ty. 
Oh! hear me, Sir.  Da. 
I would have privacy— away— be gone—  Ex. all but Da. and Ty. 
This is not sit for any Ears but mine,  
No, nor for mine— for it will make me mad.  Ty. 
Oh! Sir, indeed  Da. 
Preparing to deceive?  Ty. 
No— Sir—  Da. 
It will be folly— have a care  
For now my Grief is heightened into Rage—  
My Tears are turned to Fire, then do not lie  
By Lying, thou wilt fool thyself, not me.  
For if I find thou dost conceal the Truth,  
The Rack shall force it from thee.  Ty. 
I'll speak Truth.  Da. 
Do— thrust me not upon extremities.  
For Cruelty and I never agreed.  
In sparing thy own self, thou wilt spare me.  
I do conjure thee, by the love thou bear'st  
Thyself, or me, deliver me the Truth.  
Tell me— oh! Whither am I going now?  
But must go on, though the way lead to Hell.  
Tell me if Alexander— fortunate—  
Victorious— young and brave— did not attain—  
What I'm ashamed to ask, and dread to know.—  Ty. 
No, Sir, indeed  Da. 
Lie not.  Ty. 
I will not, Sir—  
What should I gain by telling you untruth?  Da. 
Hopes of my Favour by soft flattery.  Ty. 
Sir, here I freely offer up these Limbs  
To any torment that can be endured.  
There's strength enough in truth, to bear 'em all,  
And then I hope you will believe me, Sir.  Da. 
This is all cunning to avoid the Rack,  
But that thou shalt not do— ho! bring the Rack,  Ty. 
With all my heart.  Da. 
So bold? I like it well.  
He cannot love my Ease, more than his Flesh;  
Bring torments on himself, to soften mine.  
Thou hast half won me to thee— speak— I'm calm.  Ty. 
Then I appeal to all the Powers Divine.—  
Oh! now attest my Truth, attest yourselves—  
If I deliver Fictions to the King,  
You are all Fictions, if you spare my Head.  
The virtuous Conqueror did treat the Queen  
With all the Honour, Virtue, and the pure  
Religion due, to one so much Divine.  
He never saw her beauteous Face but once.  
And then, to give her comfort for her loss.  
Her Divine Beauties only tempted him,  
To greater Virtue; and he did not serve  
His Pleasure, but his Glory, by her charms.  
He served her Honourably in her life;  
And when She died, he mourned the public loss,  
And gave her Royal pompous Funerals.  Da. 
Oh! Alexander, thou hast vanquished me.  
Till now, thy Fortune only conquered mine.  
But now thy Virtues have subdued my Soul;  
Have thrown me down, into a weeping Slave.  
I blush to show my Face.— But all these Tears  
Must not be thine; my Queen must share with thee,  
Whose Honour I have wronged. Oh! thou bright Shade  
Of my chaste Queen, forgive my jealousy—  
It was th' excess, and frenzy of my Love.  
Now, you great Gods, Protectors of my Throne.  
I first implore your Favour to my Right.  
Restore the Throne to me, the lawful Lord.  
But if your powerful mysterious Wills  
For ever have excluded me and mine.  
Oh! give this Great and Glorious Monarchy,  
To this so Brave, so Just, and Glorious Prince.  
I humbly beg it, for my People's sake.  
How happy will they be, under a Prince,  
Whose Virtues make Captivity a Joy?  
Now call the General to me, and the rest.  Enter Ar. Be. Na. Me. Pa. Dat. 
I like not the beginning o''is day,  
'Tis a dark Morning, for my Light's eclipsed,  
— Gone down— and I shall never see her more,  
I would redeem my Children, save their right,  
And give Renown and Victory to my Friends,  
To all my People Peace and Happiness,  
I care not then how soon I'm with my Queen.  Ar. 
The King is sad and pensive.  Pa. 
Yes, I see't,  
With no small trouble, for it bodes no good.  Da. 
Come to our work, the Enemy draws on,  
And 'tis a shame so few should challenge us.  Be. 
Nay, he is rash, and puts great confidence  
In light, uncertain Fortune, who is soon  
Tired with her Favourites; soon of all  
With Prodigals like him, She has no fund  
Of bottomless successes, to maintain  
A mad eternity of rash attempts.  Da. 
Forbear, and do not rudely touch his Name  
Who with such gentleness treats all my Friends.  
Revile him not, subdue him if you can;  
Let's fight him well, for that he'll give us thanks.  
Now by our Persian Tutelary Gods;  
By the Eternal Fire before us born,  
By the Sun's splendour rising in My Realms;  
And even a Sacred, Glorious Native here,  
By Cyrus' immortal memory,  
By your own Honours, I conjure you all.  
Transmit the Persian Glory, you received  
From your brave Ancestors, to your own Race.  
Do— as you see me do, I'll ask no more.  
If I be mounted, on a Chariot  
Above you all, 'tis to be seen of all;  
By my example to instruct you all.  
Seek not one danger you see me decline;  
Nor let one Bosom have more wounds than mine.  (Exit. All go off. A noise of a Battle. Enter Bessus and Dataphernes. Be. 
Pursue, pursue, improve our good success,  
The day's our own, the great Parmenio  
Greatest of Macedonians, gives ground.  
Pursue, and we are Masters of their Camp  
And then their Baggage, and their Souls are ours;  
For in their Baggage lies the greedy Souls  
Of these poor Thiefs, they only fight for Gold.  
but we for Glory and Dominion.  Dat. 
My Lord, when we are Masters of their Camp  
We'll free our prisoners— we have thousands there,  
Who Free, and Armed, will fall on th' Enemy,  
With fury whetted on their iron Chains,  
Sharp for Revenge.—  Be. 
'Tis well advised— fall on— (Exit.  A noise of Fighting— Prisoners run over the Stage shaking of their Chains, and shouting. Enter Bessus and Nabarzanes at several doors. Be. 
The news, the news, my Lord?  Na. 
Undone, undone.  Be. 
What say you? Undone?  Na. 
By the King's Gallantry.  Be. 
His Gallanty's no news.— we know him brave.  
Where did you leave him?  Na. 
Fighting hand to hand  
With Alexander.  Be. 
Ha! a Glory indeed.  
And to be coveted above a Crown.  
Oh! Gods, should Alexander fall by him—  Na. 
I feared it, and drew off upon pretence,  
To Wheel, and Charge the Enemy i'th' rear,  
Indeed, to leave him to his Persian Cowards.  
A howl—  (A great Howl and Cry is heard. Enter Artabasus. Ar. 
All's lost my Lords— the King is killed.  Nam 
Ha! the King kill'd, my Lord?  Be. 
Nay, then all's won—  (aside. 
The Kingdom's ours— Ha! I forget myself,  
The Gods forbid, How do you know, my Lord?  Ar. 
I was informed by those that saw him fall,  
Did you not hear an universal howl?  Na. 
We did, and thought it came from dying Men.  Ar. 
Nay, I believe by this time, they are dead;  
For with the King, the Hearts of thousands sunk,  
And our despairing Men no longer fought  
For Victory, but death; and had their wish,  
For thousands die, and by a thousand ways.  Na. 
Then by survivorship, the World's our own.—  (aside. Ar. 
Away, and carry off, if possible,  
The Royal Body, for our Honour's sake,  
For our dear fallen King, and Country's sake,  
'Tis all the service we can do 'em now.  Na. 
Here's brave Lord Patron  Enter Patron. Ar. 
We will beg his aid.  
My Lord, my Lord, our gallant King is killed.  Pa. 
'Tis false.  Be. 
How, false?  Nam 
I'm sorry to hear that.—  (aside. Pa. 
'Twas nothing but his Charioteer that fell.  Ar. 
Oh! than that fatal error ruined us,  Pa. 
No, your men's cowardice has ruined you.  Ar. 
Methinks, I have some hopes, if the King lives.  Pa. 
Of what? For though the gallant King's alive;  
He's almost the sole Persian that has life,  
Or has had any since the day begun.  
Before a stroke was struck, the Cowards died;  
Stabbed by the glittering of th' Enemies Steel  
The Macedonians had no more to do,  
But to inter the Dead; throw dirt to dirt,  
I mean, heap Carcases on Carcases,  
A very pious work. And for my part,  
I think 'tis Sacrilege to hinder 'em.  
So, I am going— for I find, we come  
Not to a Battle, but a Funeral.  Ar. 
You'll not desert the King whilst he's i'th' Field?  Pa. 
He's fled, I forced him to't. I was informed  
He rushed with too much bravery, into th' Heart  
Of the Enemies, to tear away the life—  
I mean, the valiant Macedonian King;  
I fearing much his danger (not alone,  
From his brave Enemies, but his base Friends)  
Marched to his aid.— And found him, as I feared,  
Left by his Men; and fighting not alone  
With Alexander, but all Macedon.  
All the King's Fire warmed not his heartless Men,  
But scared 'em, for they fled like Ghosts from Day.  
The Enemy's Trumpets blew 'em all away.  
No doubt they would have fled, had the Cocks crowed;  
As, they say, guilty timorous Spirits do.  
I interposed between the two brave Kings,  
And made the Macedonian retreat;  
Then showed the King his frightful Solitude;  
How all his Persian Guards lay in himself,  
And his sole safety in a quick retreat;  
Else he would fall into the Enemy's hands.  
Then in despair, and rage, he bent his Sword,  
Against his own brave life. I held his hand,  
And with kind violence forced him to fly.  
And I am told, he's towards Arbela gone.  
I'll follow him— I will not kill brave Men,  
To defend Cowards, who deserve not life.  (Exit. Ar. 
Persia, thy Glory's lost,  (Exit. Na. 
But ours begins.  Be. 
It does, and Patron lied, the King's not fled  
Darius is indeed; but the King's dead.  
Here fallen lie, his Empire, and our Chains,  
Now a fresh stronger hand shall take the Reins.  (Exit.   

ACT II.  

SCENE, A Room in the Palace at Arbela.  Enter Artabasus, Dataphernes. Ar. 
LOrd Bessus with his Bactrian Horse in Town?  Dat. 
Just come, my Lord. Lord Nabarzanes too,  
With his bold Scythiads are not far behind.  Ar. 
This is reviving news— the King has now  
Considerable strength— see, my Lord's here.  Enter Bessus, Barzana, Oronte. 
Oh! my Lord Bessus, welcome from the Grave  
For the devouring Fields you left behind,  
Are but one Grave of many miles extent.  Be. 
'Tis true; where half the Kingdom lies interred.  
Where is the King, my Lord?  Ar. 
I do not know.  
I mean the Glorious King you saw to day.  
March to the Field; with pomp that made the day.  
It had more light from him, than from the Sun.  
Here's a despairing, and deserted Prince,  
That came to Town a private Charioteer.  
And has not only lost Dominion  
Over great Nations, but his Royal Self,  
His Passions rule, which they ne'er did before;  
And rule so ill, the gallant Enemy  
Would (I'm sure) treat him with more gentleness.  Be. 
No wonder, he has had a heavy blow.  Ar. 
What Lady have you there?  Be. 
My Wife, my Lord.  Ar. 
Oh! Madam, I'm in doubt, if I may say  
I'm glad your life is safe, for I believe  
'Tis better to be dead, than as we are.  Be. 
Not so, my Lord, we may recover all.  
I find great numbers of brave Men in Town.  
The King has yet great Provinces entire,  
And chiefly Bactria, where I command.  
There are a thousand Towns well fortified,  
Where the proud Conqueror's Fortune may be lost,  
As in a Labyrinth with a thousand doors;  
And the King scape, and re-ascend his Throne.  
Therefore he need not much submit to grief.  Ar. 
Alas! He grieves not only for himself,  
But all his suffering Friends; for you, and me.  
The griefs and losses of his faithful Slaves,  
Are all of ours, that he would ever share.  
Other Proprieties he'd never touch,  
Though he be Lord of all; but would neglect  
All Right, but what he has in his Friends tears.  
Those he too carefully collects himself.  
Now in the midst of his great Monarchy,  
He's all alone, as in a Wilderness.  
I'll go to him, and when I can have leave  
To speak to him, I'll tell him you are come.  
'Twill greatly comfort him; he loves you much.  Be. 
The Gods preserve him.  Ar. 
Madam, your sweet Youth  (Ex. 
May live to better days; Heaven grant you may.  Be. 
Madam, your Beauty may make better days;  
At least with me, let Fortune do her worst,  
Would it please you. But Sorrow pleases you,  
More than my Love; and ever has done so,  
Since first you saw my Face? How? Saw my Face?  
I do not know you ever looked on me.  
Your Eyes are turned away, or veiled in tears.  
Madam, this cannot easily be born:  
I am less safe with you, than among all  
The Macedonian Swords, I've scaped from them,  
Yet die with torments in Barzana's Arms.  
I am resolved, I will find out the cause.  Ba. 
Alas! I fear, he will discover me.— aside,  (One whispers Dat. Dat. 
My Lord, my Lord, I've joyful news for you;  
Your beloved Son, Lord Memnon, is come safe.  (Barzana starts. Ba. 
Lord Memnon! ha! (aside.) My Lord, I beg your leave  
I may retire; I'm weary and not well.  Be. 
Madam, I wish you may have more repose,  
Than you can find in me.  Ba. 
Nay, Why, my Lord,  
Will you be cruel to yourself and Me?  
I pray, forbear, if you desire my life.  Be. 
More than my own; I've done— all health to you.  Ex. Ba. Oron. at one Door. At another, Enter Mem. 
Well, I will trace her Sorrows to their Spring.  
So! Here's another joy. Welcome, young Man,  
Come to my Arms, for you deserve my Love.  
Y'ave done me, in the Field, no little Grace,  
It would be strange, if thou shouldst not be brave,  
Thy Mother had more Manhood, than our Men.  
Well, thou art come into a ruined World,  
Where thy great Virtue will have no reward.  Me. 
My Lord, I am rewarded in your Love.  
Our Honour, and our Friends, is wealth enough.  Be. 
'Tis true indeed; there is great wealth in Love.  
Oh! Son, I've Married so much Excellence.  Me. 
So I am told, my Lord.  Be. 
Do not admire,  
I never brought thee yet into her sight,  
I durst not do it; for to produce thee,  
Had been too bold a boast of my past Love  
To thy fair Mother, to affront my Wife.  
And I would not offend her, for the World.  Me. 
My Lord, You need not make excuse for this:  
You but observe the custom o'the place.  
'Tis thought a horrid profanation  
To Persian Beauties, to be visible.  
They are concealed, like Divine Mysteries.  
A Sister does not see a Brother here.  Be. 
True; and, I prithee, come not in her sight,  
I brought her from the Battle; She's in Town.  Me. 
How shall I shun her? For I know her not?  Be. 
Do not approach this Palace, here She's lodged,  
With other Beauties that escaped the Fight.  Me. 
I shall observe your pleasure carefully.  Be. 
Now, go thy ways— here is another Friend.  Exit Me. And Enter Nabarzanes. Na. 
Lord Bessus, I am glad to see you safe.  Be. 
I doubt we are not safe; the King is strong.  Na. 
In what?  Be. 
In Persians.  Na. 
Strong in Persians?  
They can be strong in nothing but Perfumes;  
They have no Spirits, but from Essences.  Be. 
They're above thirty thousand.  Na. 
Say, they be.  Be. 
Danger breeds Valour. They who poorly fell,  
Were Embrio's, and miscarriages of War.  
But Danger has gone out her time with these.  
Then, he has Patron, and four thousand Greeks.  Na. 
They, I confess, give the King's Sword an edge.  Be. 
And I have scarce four thousand Bactrian Horse.  Na. 
True, and my Scythian Archers are no more.  Be. 
And then he has a Guard, which all Slaves fear;  
Religious awe of Kingly Majesty.  Na. 
When other Forces fly, that never stays.  
That Kings have the Militia, on Earth,  
Is fit; should they have that of Heaven too?  
Vain Panic fears, and Superstitions?  
I'll suffer none, to List among my Troops.  Be. 
He has one Guard, I fear, that's Misery.  
It something touches me, but that's not all,  
I've an insatiable and burning Love  
For Glory; and to fall on a fallen King,  
Will much deface the Beauty of my Fame.  Na. 
We'll serve the King, save him from misery.  
Fortune declares herself his Enemy;  
And we will lay him safe out of her way.  
He shall enjoy the ease, and pomp of Power,  
And we'll endure the danger and the toil.  Be. 
Ha! 'tis well thought. The King will yield to this.  Na. 
We'll make it our request.  Be. 
Do— I agree.  Na. 
Where is he now?  Be. 
He is shut in with Grief,  
And Artahasus, the Old General.  Na. 
Let us prepare our Friends, and watch our time;  Be. 
Do— 'tis a brave design, to save one King  
And beat another; save a ruined King,  
And beat his Conqueror,— then save the World  
From both, by Liberty,— it will be great—  
— It will be Glorious— we shall be adored.  Na. 
There will be cause, while Glorious Murderers.  
Destroy mankind to form a Tyranny  
We'll destroy Tyranny to form Mankind.  Be. 
'Tis true; how Cruel is it and unjust,  
Whole Nations should in Sorrow Live and Die,  
That one great Lion may his Lust enjoy.  Exeunt.  

SCENE is drawn.  Darius is set Musing and Sad, Artabasus attending. Da. 
Oh! Why was Alexander born for me,  
To make my Crown a Misery to me;  
Which I have made a Happiness to all.  
Tyrants, who spared not Heaven and Earth, were spared:  
How can Man find, what way is to walk,  
If Fortune will thus blindly plough up all.  Ar. 
Come Sir, I pray, do not afflict yourself,  
You gave your pleasure bounds, limit your grief.  
And you, who ne'er broke Law, nor injured Man,  
Do not break reasons law, in your own wrong.  Da. 
I'd know my Crimes, that have deserved all this.  Ar. 
I know of none.  Da. 
Nay, prithee, flatter not.  Ar. 
Oh! Sir, was ever I a Flatterer?  Da. 
Never, till now.  Ar. 
And this is an ill time,  
In your Calamity, and my great Age.  
For what can you bestow, or I receive?  
I've reached a Hundred years, now wanting Five.  
My Love to Honour, Conscience and my King,  
Are all the Appetites, I have to please.  Da. 
Oh! Why have I all sorts of Miseries?  Ar. 
Those happen to you, as you are a Man.  
For what is a Man? A Congregation  
Of disagreeing things; His place of Birth,  
A confused crowd of fighting Elements,  
To nothing fixed, but to Eternal change;  
They would all lose their Natures, should they fix.  Da. 
Why, say they did, were they not better lost  
Than kept at such Expense; what does poor Man  
Pay for vain Life?  Ar. 
What's matter what he pays;  
Gods did not make this World only for Man.  
He's but a parcel o' the Universe;  
A fellow Servant with the meanest thing,  
To carry on the Service o' the whole,  
And pleasure o' the Gods, the Lords of all.  Da. 
Can human Sorrows be delights to Gods;  Ar. 
Our Sorrows are not, but our Troubles may,  
A Great Man, vanquishing his destiny,  
Is a great Spectacle worthy of Gods.  Da. 
Give me thy Hand; years have not gone by thee,  
Like empty idle Vagrants, but like Kings,  
And given thee Riches to relieve a King.  Enter an Eunuch. Eu. 
Lord Bessus, Nabarzanes—  Da. 
Are they here.  Eu. 
They have been waiting for access some time,  
Lord Memnon, Patron too—  Da. 
Bring 'em all in.  Enter Bessus, Nabarzanes, Memnon, Patron, Dataphernes, several Bactrians. Da. 
Oh! Welcome, my brave Friends, come to my Arms,  
I'm joyed to see your safety and your Love;  
Follow me now? You are true Friends indeed.  
I will complain of Misery no more;  
For I perceive it is the great Art of Heaven,  
To give us better taste of what we have:  
A Friend was ne'er so sweet to me before.  
'Tis hard in prosperous Fortune to know Friends:  
Now I am certain you attend on me,  
This is to me my first apparent Court.  
Though I've not fought, I've loved with great success.  
There is no State, in which the bounteous Gods  
Have not placed Joy, if Men would seek it out;  
Well, Sirs, What news? How many have we lost?  Be. 
Above four hundred thousand, Sir, 'tis said.  Da. 
Oh! my amazing merciless destiny.  Be. 
'Twas not a Battle, but a Massacre.  Na. 
Oh! Sir, I wish your Sorrows might end here.  
But though they're heavy, as the heart of Man  
Has strength to bear, I must enlarge 'em yet.  
Your great Lieutenants, Sir, and Governors,  
Have flung up all their Towns and Provinces.  
Mithrenes has resigned Armenia,  
False Mazeus, the once Glorious Babylon.  
The Governor of Damas' with the Town.  
Betrayed the Kingdom.— For, Sir, in that Town  
You had lodged Wealth enough, to regain all.  Da. 
Two hundred thousand Talents in coined Gold.  
In Silver twice the sum; with Diamonds  
And Jewels, of inestimable price.  Be. 
Alas! This was not all the Riches, Sir.  
Your Princes, and great Lords, had (as they thought)  
There secured all the Beauty o' the East,  
I mean their lovely Wives, and Daughters, Sir.  
And this inhuman Coward betrayed 'em all.  
That Wives of Princes served the Lusts of Slaves,  
And poorest wretches shone in Robes of Kings;  
Such Scorn did Fortune throw on this World's Pride.  Da. 
Oh! my immense boundless Calamities.  
Though I've so many thousands lost in Fight,  
I must lament that I have lost no more,  
Better my Cities mount to Heaven in Fire  
Thank sink by Cowardly villainy to Hell.  
And they're preferred who meet with Noble Death,  
Above the Villains, who by Treason Reign.  Me. 
A little Joy were seasonable now.  
And I've a little for you, Sir.  Da. 
Ha! Joy?  Me. 
The Coward of Damas', fled to Babylon.  
And with his Brother Villain Mazeus went  
To meet the Enemy, with triumphant pomp.  
As if the conquest of their Honesties,  
Had been most Honourable Victories.  
I heard it would be so, took some brave friends,  
And slew 'em both before the Conqueror's Face.  
Then brought their Heads away, and there they are.  Da. 
Oh! brave young Man!— Now I'm subdued by thee;  
I've nothing to reward thy Gallantry,  
So thou hast made a Vassal of thy King.  
I'm overcome by Enemies and Friends.  
Good Gods, for all my Losses, Sufferings, Wrongs,  
Favour my gallant Friends, I'll ask no more.  Ar. 
Oh! excellent Prince! Will the Gods leave a Prince,  
To whom they give such pledges of their Love,  
I mean such Godlike Virtue's and brave Friends?  Da. 
'Tis true; can I despair; and have such Friends?  
By you, I'm still a Great and Glorious King,  
Able to fight with Alexander yet.  
And by the Gods, I'll do't, I thought on slight,  
The vile Decree with horror I revoke.  
Shall I fear any thing while I have you?  
And I am sure, there is not in the World,  
A danger you would shun like shameful flight.  
And shall I lead you on to Infamy?  
No, I will show, I deserve Men so brave,  
I will march back, and fight the Enemy.  
One blow may scatter all his Victories.  
They're lumber piled disorderly in haste.  Pa. 
Oh! Fortune in this Monarch see thy faults,  (aside. 
And frailties; he'll be great in spite o' thee.  Da. 
What means this silence in you all, my Lords?  
If you have fear, I'm sure it is for me.  Be. 
Ay, so it is, Great Sir.  Da. 
So I believe.  
But is there any thing to fear, like Shame?  
And shall I shamefully desert myself?  
In my own Empire, be a banished Man?  
Or, like my Traitors to the Conqueror creep,  
To be a petty Lord of some poor Town,  
And there in safety lock my little Heart?  
I charge you, kill me, when I ere devise  
Such infamous destruction for your King.  
No, I will be a King, or not at all.  
My Life and Reign shall have one period.  
But if your Resolutions be, like mine;  
We will yet give our Sorrows a brave end.  
Justice is for us, so may Fortune be.  
I'm a bright proof of her inconstancy.  
But if no God will lend us any aid,  
Let us be Gods, and Fortune to ourselves.  
And signalise ourselves by such a Fight,  
May show, at least, we deserve better fates.  
— All silent still?—  Ar. 
Sir, you exceed us all,  
As much in Spirit, as in Dignity.  
What Soul but yours is not with horror seized,  
Viewing the danger that approaches us?  
Sir, you deserve the Empire o'the World.  
And we'll endeavour, Sir, to deserve you.  
Great Sir, go on, and we will follow you.  
You have prepared us all with Glorious Arms,  
With hopes of Victory, and scorn of Death.  Pa. 
Sir, We are strangers, owe our Birth to Greece.  
So are free Troops, and may march where we please.  
But yet to show, we fight for Fame, not Pay;  
And did not serve your Money, but yourself,  
We are all ready to lay down our Lives,  
And on our Sepulchers, erect your Throne.  
For what a Glory will it be to us,  
To make the Persian King our Monument?  Da. 
I looked, brave Patron, for no less from thee.  
Now it will be a shame if Persian Lords  
Let a poor stranger in their King's own Court,  
Outshine 'em all, in Love and Loyalty.  Me. 
The Gods forbid.— Lead on, most Royal Sir,  
I have some wounds require my present care,  
But, Sir, they will not indispose me long. Ex.  Be. 
Now speak our Thoughts to him, we are prepared.  Na. 
You show a Courage, Sir, that shames your Fate,  
Which gives your Crown from your Descent and Right.  
But what has made Heaven blush, shall make you bleed.  
Fate plots your ruin by your Gallantry.  
Alas! we are not now, as we have been,  
A Sea of Men, that deluged the whole Earth,  
Swallowed the Rivers, devoured Nature's Store,  
Emptied the spacious vessel o' the World.  
More than the grasp o' Providence could hold;  
That down we fell in heaps, now 'tis not so.  
We may be numbered now; all we can do  
Is but to gain some pity for ourselves,  
And Honourably throw away our King.  
Brave Men scorn Death, but yet they value Life;  
Because their Lives are useful to the World.  
It is enough— too much,— Danger and Death  
Follow us fast, let us not follow them.  
Sir, I most humbly move (Heaven knows my Soul,  
In tenderness to you, not to ourselves;)  
Retreat with us, to neighbouring Bactria.  
Sir, there are endless Forests of brave Youth,  
Whence in few days we will have rods enough,  
To scourge the Macedonian pride to death.  
But then we beg you'll make one more retreat.  Da. 
Whither?  Na. 
Sir, out of the Dominion  
Of your ill Planets.—  Da. 
Ha!— What dost thou mean?  Na. 
Sir, we dare fight with Men, but not with Heaven:  
And all the Gods appear your Enemies.  
What if you hid in privacy and ease?  
It would be pious reverence to Heaven,  
And a brave conquest over your own Mind.  
Let none subdue Darius but himself.  
Fling up awhile to th' importuning storm,  
Some of your Dignity to save the rest.  
And make your Court to Heaven, and all brave Men,  
By honouring the favourite of both,  
Lord Bessus, with the Sovereign power.  Da. 
How now?—  Na. 
Nay, Sir, but for a while, till he has lured  
Gods, and revolting Nations to your aid.  
He is adored by Men, obeyed by Gods.  
They all observe his Will, they'll not deny  
Your Crown to him, and when 'tis in his hand,  
He'll faithfully return it to yourself.  Da. 
Oh! Villain! most amazing, impudent,  
And cowardly Villain! hast thou watched thy time,  
When Treason may be insolent and safe?  
And to my Face abuse me, unchastised?—  
No, Traitor.—  Da. Draws— Bessus and his Men interpose, and hold the King. Be. 
Hold, Sir, do not hurt yourself.  Da. 
Ha! I am seized and threatened— Are you all  
In this conspiracy?  Pa. 
No, I am not— Pa. and the Greeks draw.  Be. 
Hold, Patron, hold— hold all, that love the King.  
He will receive no hurt, except from you;  
Our Blood is his, perhaps his vital Blood.  
In me you'll cut whole Nations from his aid.  Na. 
Before we spoke, we did consider well  
The strength, both of our Reason, and our Swords.  Ex. Be. Na. Da. 
Ha! Was this Bessus?  Pa. 
Sir, Will you bear this?  
By Heavens, I would rather endure the Swords  
Of these bold Villains, than their impudence.  Da. 
It stunned me, but I now recover Sense.  
Brave Patron, follow me; follow me all.  
Though my hard Fortune will not suffer me  
To conquer Kings, I'll be more like a God.  
I will defend all Kings, even those unborn.  
By the reward these Villains shall receive,  
Their dire confusion shall be the defence  
Of Kings and Kingdoms, forty Ages hence.  Ar. 
Oh! he is running to his certain death.  
Oh! Sir.—.  (Ar. falls at the King's Feet. Da. 
What dost thou mean?  Ar. 
Pity yourself—  
Your Friends, your Children; you will ruin all.  Da. 
Will none stand by me then?  Pa. 
Yes, Sir; we will.  Da. 
d'ye see? Oh! Shame! More Love, more Loyalty,  
In this brave Stranger, than in all my Friends;  
Whom I have made more rich, than all his Greece?  
Come, Patron, bring thy Greeks, they're strength enough.  Ar. 
Oh! If you'll go to ruin, pass through me,  
My life has long been useless to myself.  
I shall abhor it, when 'tis so to you,  
And, nor my Sword, nor Counsel can prevail.  Da. 
Oh! How am I beset? the Enemy  
Is at my Back, my Friends fly in my Face?  Ar. 
Oh! Sir, I speak my Loyal Care of you,  
The Enemy is near, your Army small;  
The Macedonian was too great a weight  
For us to bear, when we had Millions.  
Alas, What shall this little Body do?  
When you have maimed it too? and have cut off  
Its strongest limbs? for so these Great Men are.  Da. 
They are cut off from all their love to me.  Ar. 
Indeed, Sir, I believe, their meaning good.  
They have stood bravely by you, Sir, till now;  
Stood stronger than the Walls of Babylon:  
For they are fallen in shame by base revolt.  
If they meant well, pardon their erring love.  
Do not destroy 'em for some kind mistakes.  
If they be bad, Mercy may change their Hearts.  Da. 
Do what you will; for all must Reign but I.  
Oh! My misfortunes.  Ar. 
Pray, Sir, do not grieve.  Da. 
Nay, prithee, if I may not be a King,  
Yet let me be the Mourner of a King,  
I am all the Mourners that my death shall have.  Ar. 
Then am I false?  Da. 
No— pardon me, good Man.  Pa. 
Who can pretend to Honour, or a Soul,  
And not be touched with such a Princes wrong?  Ar. 
'Tis true, then can the Men, he has obliged  
Conspire to wrong him? if they had the Thought,  
I doubt not but they will abhor themselves;  
And I shall fling 'em at his Feet in tears.  Pa. 
Or, by the Gods, I'll fling 'em there in Blood.  Da. 
Oh! how shall I reward thee, noble Greek?  
Well, it is possible they may mean well.  
Then, on submission I will pardon 'em,  
And take 'em to my Favour yet; for I  
fear more to do injustice than to die,  (Ex. Pa. 
Come, my brave Countrymen, stand to your Arms;  
And let us show what a true Soldier is:  
He's no Mechanic Slave, that sells his breath,  
But a just generous Lord, of life and death.  
Not a wild Beast, that knows no Law, but Lust;  
He destroys bestial Men, or makes 'em just.  
The Cutthroat does a Soldiers name profane,  
Pretending to be more, he's less a Man;  
The worse for Reason, by that Artful tool,  
More hurtful than a Beast, he kills by Rule.  
But the true Soldier does Mankind create,  
By forcing Reason on a brutal State.  
When Oaths are Wind, and Laws but childish Rods,  
The Soldier comes, like Thunder, from the Gods.  (Ex.  

SCENE, A Room in the Palace, Barzana sat melancholy, attending to a Song. Sometimes weeping,— Oronte waits.  Ba. 
Oh miserable me!  Or. 
Astonishment in everlasting Sighs, Complaints, and Tears?  
This must not be, it leads her from her Sense  
Madam—! She minds me not— Madam— I beg?—  
You will not always listen to your Griefs,  
But to your Friends sometimes.  Ba. 
Trouble me not.  Or. 
Madam, you are a trouble to yourself.  Ba. 
Be gone, I'd be alone.  Or. 
I would you were.  
But you associate with a cruel Grief,  
That does return your kindness very ill.  
You grace a Melancholy that devours  
The Beauties, whence it has its wondrous Grace.  
Nay, Madam, it is dangerous to your life.  
You neither eat, nor drink, nor take repose.  
You go to Bed for liberty to weep;  
And the Night leaves you, as she found you, in tears,  
Day dries not up that Dew, you only breath  
To sigh, and not to live. Your Reason wastes,  
You see not, hear not, mind not any thing.  
Sometimes your Fancy hunts a thousand things,  
But e'er they're found, alas your Fancy's lost.  Be. 
Thou wilt be troublesome, but thou mean'st well;  
Therefore I pardon thee; How tired am I  
With sitting, and till now, I knew it not?  
Come, let us walk?  Or. 
Where will you please to walk?  Ba. 
I know not where.  Or. 
Abroad in the fresh Air?  Ba. 
No, I shall be disturbed with company.  Or. 
Then in the Gallery?  Ba. 
No, it wants Air.  Or. 
Then in the Grove?  Ba. 
I will not walk at all.  
Fetch me a Book, I'll read— let it alone—  
Go call the Music back again— no, stay—  
It was too noisy; a soft gentle Lute  
Would please me better.— But another time—  
How ill you dress me, Sir?  Or. 
Dear Madam, Why?  Ba. 
I'm cumbered with a thousand needless things.  
Art need not study vanity for us;  
We have too much from Nature.  Or. 
Will you please  
To change your dress?  Ba. 
Then you will be a toil.  
Would I could change myself  
For any thing besides.  Or. 
She weeps again.  Ba. 
I'll to my Closet— no, I will abroad.  
Release me quickly from the slavery  
Of all this formal, and superfluous dress.  
The World's in War— I'll be an Amazon—  
Tie back my Hair, but not with any Art—  
Come— a short Robe— lay naked my right Arm.  
A Javelin there should be the only grace.  
My Horse!— my Horse!— Oh! I am pressed to death—  
Under your earthy sloth. Oh! you good Gods!  
That I were now among the Warriors,  
Gaining Eternal Honours to myself.  
Eternal Honours?— No— Eternal Shame,—  
Showing my Follies, as I madly do.  
— Oh! I am cursed— cursed— by some angry Power,  
That makes a foolish and vile thing o' me,  
And then exposes that to shame for me.  
Gods, if you'll take my Reason, take my Life,  
Leave me not Sense, only to feel my Grief.  Or. 
Oh! Madam, Madam, in all reverence  
To your Command and Will, I've born your Griefs  
Till they have torn your Reason, and my Heart.  
I must assault 'em now.— And on my knees  
I humbly beg you will discover 'em.  Ba. 
Away, away.  Or. 
No, Madam, pardon me  
I will pay all obedience to yourself.  
But, oh! no more to your distractions.  Ba. 
Be gone, I say.  Or. 
I will not, cannot, go.  Ba. 
Thou dost not know, how troublesome thou art,  
And to what little purpose, should I tell  
My griefs to thee, it would increase 'em more;  Or. 
You know not that, you have a noble Mind.  
But at the present 'tis not in your power.  
My little Counsels now may aid you more.  
Be not so faithful to your Misery;  
Betray it to me.  Ba. 
'Tis impossible.  
Oh! I could easier rip my Bosom up,  
And show the Sun my naked Heart, than thee.  Or. 
I do not think the dangers o' your Lord—  Ba. 
Ay, there it is—  Or. 
No, you are cold to him.  
Oh! there is something more, and I must know.  Ba. 
Well, I will tell thee.  Or. 
Do.—  Ba. 
Another time.  Or. 
When 'tis too late— consider what you do.  
I know you've so much kindness for your Lord,  
You would be loath wholly to lose his Heart;  
And there's a beauteous Amazonian. Queen  
By whom Lord Bessus has a Noble Son.—  Ba. 
Undone! Undone! Thou hast discovered me.  Or. 
Discovered what?  Ba. 
As if you did not find.  Or. 
Madam, I swear I know not what you mean.  Ba. 
You know too much. Had I a Dagger here,  
I'd lock thy Bosom to Eternity.  Or. 
I wish you had, and it were in my Breast,  
If any ill has happened to yourself.  Ba. 
She takes a pleasure to repeat my Shame.  Or. 
Your Shame?— Your Shame, d'ye say?  Ba. 
My Hell— nay, worse—  
Shame is a torment which the damned know not.  
The damned have darkness to conceal their Shame.  
But mine will suddenly break out to light,  
I cannot bear the torment of my Love.  Or. 
Oh! now your Sorrows show their mournful Face.  
You love— your Husband's Son.  Ba. 
No more— no more,  
I tremble at the thought— I'm sick to death,  
If the word Love but touch my Tongue, or Ear.  
'Tis Sin to talk of Sin.  Or. 
Your Love's no Sin.  
It is your Glory, now you vanquish it.  Ba. 
I do not, do not, cannot vanquish it.  
I dare not trust myself, with Love or Life.  
I'll seek out death by all the ways I can.  Or. 
Hold, Madam, hold—  Ba. 
Why? Am I fit to live?  Or. 
If you be not, you are less fit to die.  Ba. 
Death ends my Sin.  Or. 
Murder increases it.  Ba. 
It will be Justice on an impious wretch.  
I'll thrust all Hell into one painful hour.  
And then, good Heaven (I hope) will claim no more.  
(Exit    

ACT III.  

SCENE, The Palace.  Enter Darius, Artabazus, Guards. Ar. 
OH! Sir! the Men are good and penitent;  
And brave as good; and I shall see you yet  
As Happy, Great, and Glorious as ever.  Da. 
No, Artabazus, no, my Queen is dead.  
I never can be happy in this World.  
But I would give my Kingdom happiness.  
Go, call 'em in—  Enter Bessus and Nabarzanes, who prostrate themselves before the King, and weep. Be. 
Oh! Great and Gracious King  
Oh! infinite is our confusion,  
We humbly beg you will regard our tears—  
We can express our Grief no other way.  Da. 
Indeed, I do not know what to regard,  
Nor what you are— you seem so strange to me,  
I think you are my Subjects, are you not?  Na. 
Yes, Sir, and faithful ones, whate'er we seem.  Da. 
A Subject without terror of his King,  
Is an unnatural thing in Persia.  
You are portentous Omens of my death.  Be. 
Oh! narrow World! a Virtue that exceeds  
The common size, appears portentous here.  
The World is fallen on your Sacred Head,  
And now we cannot stand on forms of State,  
But we must get you out what way we can.  
And, Sir, indeed we thought this was the best.  
But now, because 'twas bold, it appears bad.  Da. 
What could befall me worse, that what you ●ought,  
Tamely to yield my Crown, at your demand,  
And serve my Slaves? nothing can throw me down,  
So low as that, but my own cowardice:  
I will not yield the Conqueror my Crown,  
I'll rather singly fight with all his Troops;  
For by 'em all I can be killed but once.  
But yield my Crown I suffer many deaths,  
In my own Shame, and my dear children's Tears,  
Who then, no more are Children of a King.  
And would you wish me cowardly, infamous,  
And cruel to my Children?— Oh! Is this  
Your kindness to me? You ingrateful Men.  
Oh! Who would not ha' thought you were my Friends?  
Who would ha' thought you could be otherwise?  
For I beset you with my Favours so,  
No Hearts, but yours, could scape from loving me.  
And now for you to hurt your King, and Friend?  
And at this time when I am pressed to death,  
Under a fallen Throne, a ruined House,  
My Mother, Brother, little only Son,  
Both my sweet Daughters in captivity,  
And my Queen dead?  Na. 
Oh! Sir— No more— no more—  Be. 
Yes, Sir, Go on, go on, and break our Hearts.  
For we desire to die, since we grieve you.  Da. 
You deserve it for your cruelty.  
Had you by private Treasons stolen my life—  
You had shown more Humanity, than now;  
For than I had not felt the barbarous blow;  
That had shown Reverence, called me a Dread King;  
This calls me Fool and Coward to my Face.  
I showed no fear o' the brave enemy,  
Why should you think I would be seized by you?  Na. 
We did not hope to work upon your Fear.  
We know you have no Fear, but on your Love.  
We know you have a truly Royal Soul,  
That love your People with paternal Love,  
And we petitioned, Sir, for all our Lives  
Which hourly perish by your destiny.  Be. 
Yes, Sir, 'tis plain; while you are in the Field  
We fall in heaps; you are no sooner gone,  
But as your Chariot wheels turned Heaven round,  
Success is ours, and the whole day is changed.  
And we would six our Fortune to your Crown,  
Your dangers to our Heads; in offering this  
We have discharged our Duties, and can die.  Na. 
Nay, wish to die, to ease you of your fears;  
Better we die, than you should want repose:  
We pray not for our Lives, Sir, but your Love.  Da. 
Oh! now you vanquish me, come to my Arms—  Be. 
Oh! excellent King.  Na. 
Too Good— too Gracious.  Da. 
I will not sacrifice great things to vile  
Men, good and gallant to revenge and fear.  
No, do your Duty, Sirs, and I'll do mine.  
Leave the dispose of Crowns to Kings and Gods.  
Preserve your Honours, that's enough for you.  
Conquer a Conqueror, not a fallen King.  
And your own King, you want no Enemies;  
Oh! make not any for yourselves by crimes.  
The Macedonian King pursues us fast—  
And I perhaps shall perish by his Sword,  
That you may spare the guilt of murdering me.  Be. 
Oh! Horror! Do you think we have the thought?  Na. 
Oh! you suspect us, that is worse than death.  Da. 
No— no— I only counsel you in love—  
For you possess my Heart, though I've lost yours.  Be. 
Oh! say not so.  Da. 
I hope, 'tis otherwise.  Na. 
But you believe it not.  Da. 
Well, I ha' done.  
Be what you seem, and all shall be forgot.  
And what we do, le's do like gallant Men.  
Who bravely fall have this one happiness,  
Above the Conqueror, they share his Fame,  
And have more Love, and an unenvied Name.  (Ex. Dam Ar. Guards. Na. 
This was the only way to vanquish him.  
I found we could not gain the Persians,  
I often talked to 'em of Liberty.  
Alas! they understood not what I meant,  
For in the Persian Tongue is no such word.  
they answered nothing, but the King, the King;  
His Sacred Majesty, long live the King,  
That mighty comprehensive word, the King,  
Had all the Sense a Persian Thought could hold.  
So I thought this our only secure way,  
We could not fight the Greeks and Persians.  Be. 
Now I could easier have fought 'em both,  
Than stooped to all this base Hypocrisy,  
I think 'tis harder to subdue him now,  
Than if he had his Millions at his heels.  
For Sovereign Power springs out o' the Sword.  
If I had conquered him in a fair Fight,  
I had both gained his Kingdom and his Right.  
Now on ourselves, and our brave Friends we fall  
And turn 'em into Fools and Villains all.  
Glory I court, and I would have my Love  
Fair and complete, as She's enjoyed by Jove.  Na. 
And so you will; Jove did for Empire frame  
A World of Fools and Knaves, we do the same.  
Were there no Knaves, what use of Sovereign sway?  
And if there were no Fools, Who would obey?  Ex.  

SCENE, Another Apartment in the Palace. Enter Bar. and Or.  Ba. 
Now I have told the secrets of my Heart,  
I have much eased my Heart; it is more cool,  
My Reason does begin to come in play;  
Though I find great misfortune in Love,  
I have this comfort, there is no great guilt.  
I loved the Son, ere I the Father saw.  
It pleased the Gods, (I know not for what sin)  
In the great Field, at the Cilician straits,  
First to begin the dreadful day on me.  
Darted into my Eyes, into my Soul,  
The shining, the confounding killing charms  
Of the most Noble Youth, they ever formed.  
At the first sight of him my Soul dissolved.  
It was some time ere I had breath to speak.  
At length I hid my Face, and whispering you,  
Bid you inquire, who that Commander was.  Or. 
You did; I thought 'twas Curiosity,  
And gave you information.  Ba. 
To my Joy.  
He quickly rode away out o' my sight.  
But left such strong impressions on my Soul.  
Though many thousands fell before my Face,  
The day was lost; nay, my own liberty,  
I saw it not, Memnon was in my Eye.  
But oh! my misery soon wakened me;  
And then I shrieked, more out of fear,  
For Memnon than myself; for I despaired  
To see him more, except amongst the dead.  
As we were led over our slaughtered Friends,  
Envying their gory mangled Carcases,  
The same brave Youth, whom I had in my Heart,  
Came shining once again into my Eye,  
With new, and brighter splendours than before;  
For he brought Honour, Conquest, Liberty.  
Dispersed the Enemy, as Winds do Sand,  
And quickly made free passage for my flight.  
You must remember it, for you were there  
In the same Chariot with me.  Or. 
Yes, I was,  
And so was he, I think.  Ba. 
What do you mean?  Or. 
I'm sure his Eye was, and I think, his Heart.  Ba. 
Away— but if it was, so much the worse,  
For then his misery would be like mine.  Or. 
Would it afflict you to be loved by him:  Ba. 
Yes, to his grief; else 'twould extremely please.  Or. 
I know not if he loves, this I am sure,  
He was your Guard, your Beauty was his Guide.  
For all the way he by your Chariot rode  
His Eye did never fail to follow yours,  
His Tongue said little, but his Looks said much.  
Indeed that was no time or place for talk.  
Our Ears were with a thousand noises filled,  
Ay, and our Hearts too with a thousand fears.  
Alas! This short success was only lent,  
Fortune did soon demand her Favours back:  
The Enemy pursued; the gallant Youth  
Was forced to turn on them, and you to fly.  Ba. 
Oh! I fled slowly, with a heavy Heart.  
A thousand times did I turn back my Eye,  
Ay, and I think as oft my Chariot,  
Wishing to see him come a Conqueror.  
But 'twas in vain to stay, the night came on,  
So I went forwards, and let Fortune drive;  
Who led me to Eternal Misery,  
In the first ylace, where I my safety sought.  
There with the King, Lord Bessus lay concealed,  
Who at first sight o' me, flamed out with Love,  
And begged in me his ruin o' the King.  Or. 
Why did you not inform the King your love?  Ba. 
I did, in what I could, blushes and tears.  
But the word Love I had not power to speak.  Or. 
Oh! fatal Modesty! But see, my Lord.  Ba. 
Oh! my disorders will discover me.  
What can I say, why I as yet a Bride,  
Have all the Sorrow of a captive Slave?  Enter Bessus. Be. 
Madam, may I approach?  Ba. 
My Lord, you know  
You are a Sovereign here.  Be. 
I have some right.  
But Grief usurps my room; I can't bear  
A Rival in my Bed.  Ba. 
Rival, my Lord?—  Be. 
That is my Rival sure that shares with me,  
And I methinks have the least part in you.  
What Favours I receive, you rather give  
To Marriage Vows than Me. Those Cherubims  
Are not for Idols, but for Ornaments:  
To grace Love's Altars, not to be adored.  
Madam, you may believe it troubled me,  
To be excluded thus my Joy and Right.  
I would not very tamely yield it up.  
I have been searching for my Enemy,  
And I believe I have th' Offender found.  Ba. 
What does he say—  (aside. Be. 
Madam, I call to mind  
When we last parted, new was brought to me,  
My Son was come; his Name disordered you.  Ba. 
Undone!— Undone!— I am betrayed—  (aside. Be. 
'Tis so.  
My Son! My Son.  Ba. 
Your Son? What of your Son?  Be. 
Undoes me; your confusion shows it plain.  Ba. 
In what confusion am I?  Be. 
All your Face  
Flames with a blush; your breath goes thick and short.  
Your Speech would scarcely falter more in death.  Ba. 
Fetch me a Dagger.  (aside. Be. 
I'll remove this Grief.  
I le send for him, and stab him in your sight.  Ba. 
Oh! Horror! Horror! Hold! You shall know all.  Be. 
Oh! I know all, and will remove it all.  
Madam, you very highly injure me.  Ba. 
I do not— do not.  Be. 
Oh! you do.  Ba. 
In what?  Be. 
I here invoke the Gods.  Ba. 
And so do I  Be. 
Tear out my Heart, if it be false to you?  Ba. 
Have you suspicion, I am false to you?  Be. 
No Madam, no, but you have entertained  
Causeless suspicion of my Truth to you.  
Not that my humble Heart is worth your Care,  
But your own Merit is; you are enraged,  
Your Royal Birth, and Divine Excellence,  
Which may deserve to have more Heavens than one,  
Gain not the entire Heart of one poor Slave.  
But you are triumphed over by the Queen.  
Because I show some fondness of her Son.  Ba. 
Oh! I am scaped! Shame and Death threatened me—  (aside. 
And then rode by far far out of their way.  
He thinks my Grief is jealousy of him.  Be. 
Come, Madam, throw the Queen out of your Thoughts,  
For I'll assure you she is far from mine.  
I never loved her in her softest Youth.  
Nature indeed had given her charms for Love;  
But the embraces of the wanton Wind,  
And Suns hot Kisses had debauched 'em all.  
And they were all the Kisses She endured.  
She must perform the Office of her Sex,  
Or have no Heirs to her Renown and Throne.  
So our embrace was but a Bed Cabal.  
More for a State, than amorous intrigue.  
Love did but little in the whole Affair,  
The Gods did all; therefore the gallant Youth  
Is like a God, and therefore loved by me.  
I know you'd love him, if you saw him once,  
Which you shall do, and let him kiss your hands.  
Run for my Son—  (to 〈◊〉. Ba. 
I will not see his Face.  
He's setting his own House all in a flame—  (aside. 
When it already burns in smothering fire.  Be. 
Oh How disturbed She is? could I believe  
A trouble to thy Hear should delight mine?  
This is a mark of love, but th' only one  
I do not wish to have.— lay it aside.  
And let all three love. I must confess  
My Son is a record of my past Love,  
But he's so fair a one—  
I'm very sure if you beheld him once  
You would be loath he should be blotted out.  Ba. 
With what a pleasing Dream he is deceived?  (aside. 
'Tis cruelty to waken a sick Friend.  
Whose Sleep is all his case, let him dream on  
Nay, I am told your Son, your Son's a gallant Man.  
And I am troubled that I cannot give  
His Merit the reception it deserves.  Be. 
Why not, my Love? you may if I consent.  Ba. 
I'll not consent to an undecent thing,  
And so it is t'encourage vicious Love.  
Such was your kindess for the Amazon Queen.  Be. 
Thy Virtue is too nice.  Ba. 
Nay, I'm content  
You love and favour him.  Be. 
A thousand Thanks  Ba. 
But do not let him come into my sight.  Be. 
Well, dearest, you shall see, the Divine power  
You have o'er me, that the least sigh of yours  
Can shake the Universe from under me.  
My Memnon is to me, a World of Joy,  
He offends you, and vanishes for ever.  Ba. 
Oh! now I grieve:—  (aside. Be. 
What say you, do you grieve?  Ba. 
O'r-heard?—  (aside. Be. 
Oh! this is kind, now he shall go.  Enter Memnon. Ba. 
I see him, Oh? I tremble, burn and faint,  
I cannot stay, or go—  (aside. Be. 
See see, I swear.  
The very sight of him distempers her.  
You shall not see him, love, away, away,  
A thousand Thanks for all this tender love.  (Ex. Ba. Or. 
Come hither, Memnon, thou wert once my All,  
And still thou art a most dear part o' me.  
I tell thee this, 'cause I'm to lose thee soon.  
And I would make our parting soft to thee  
What e'er it is to me. I am compelled  
To banish thee for ever from my sight.  Me. 
Compelled to banish me?— Alas, my Lord,  
I fear my Loyalty displeases you.  
I have heard dreadful news about the King.  
Oh! I have wept, and raved, and torn my Hair,  
And cursed my Birth, now doubly infamous,  
First, by my Mother's sin, and now by yours.  Be. 
You know not what you say, I had great aims.  
I saw the Kingdom fall.  Me. 
Had Heaven fallen.  
And you had done your Duty, you had stood.  Be. 
'Tis true, I sallied out beyond my bounds  
But 'twas to serve the King  Me. 
He serves him best  
Who keeps his Post, Obedience was yours  Be. 
No more o''is; if the King pardons me,  
Sure you may do't.  Me. 
Oh! is the King so good?  
And after that, can you forgive yourself?  Be. 
Ha done!  Me. 
I shall— but let me do you first  
What Services I can; and set you free  
From all Temptations you may have from me.  
Perhaps you think a Crown may delight me.  
Oh! I would rather have my Head be cleft  
In my King's Service, than by Treason Crowned.  
Let but my Sword command the spots of Earth,  
On which I fight to Guard his Crown and Life,  
And Nobler Fortune I will ne'er desire.  
The Gods be praised, there I have Lordships yet.  
And let us all preserve our Loyalty,  
Then our true Glory lives, though our Pomp dies,  
For that is Vanity; now I have done.  
I'll make but one Request, then take my leave.  Be. 
What's that?  Me. 
To choose the place of my Exile.  Be. 
Where's that?  Me. 
In the Fair Arms of one ay Love.  Be. 
And who is she?  Me. 
I know not, would I did.  
It was my Fate at the Cilician straits,  
To give her Liberty, and lose my own.  Be. 
Didst thou make no enquiry of her Name?  Me. 
I found her graced with all perfections,  
And these I think are Names enough for one.  
They took up all my thoughts, and all my time;  
Which was not much, for soon we were pursued.  
I was compelled to face the Enemy,  
I had the honour of the Victory,  
But lost the best Reward, the sight of her;  
For she was fled away; and from that hour  
I saw her not till now.  Be. 
Where saw you her?  Me. 
Here in this Palace.  Be. 
Here? my Wife lives here—  [Aside. 
When did you see her?  Me. 
Not a minute past.  Be. 
Oh! how I tremble? this must be my wife.  [Aside. 
Was no one with her?  Me. 
Yes, yourself, my Lord.  Be. 
Infernal horrors!  Me. 
Ha! he is disturbed—  [Aside. Be. 
Oh! he has stabbed me, sleeping in my Bed,  
And wakened me in Hell. Past all dispute  
Her secret sorrow is a Love for him.  
I've been soliciting for my own shame.  
'Tis so!— 'tis so!— my Son has whored my Wife,  
H'as whored her in her Soul, and that's enough.  
I'll rip him up, and carry her his Heart.  
Hold! he is Innocent, and she may be.  
Shall I skin o'er my Wound, with that may be?  
And probe no farther? no 'twill fester then.  
Oh! better see her once in the foul Act,  
And so conclude my Torment, and her Sin,  
Than see her hourly sinning in my thoughts.  Me. 
My Lord, I fear, I love not as I should.  
For I perceive it discomposes you,  
Though you in tenderness conceal my fault.  
Pray let me know it, I will freely part  
With all the Joys I have, to pleasure you.  Be. 
Oh! noble Youth! sure I am safe from him,  [Aside. 
But not from my own thoughts; I cannot bear  
Thorns in my Bed, if I have torment there  
Where shall I rest? no, I must search it well.  
No, Son, I only doubt your good success.  
Had you any Encouragement?  Me. 
I thought I had.  Be. 
'Tis done!— th' Adulteries finished o' her part.  [Aside. 
So is her Life— Memnon— you have my leave  
To make this Beauty yours be who she will.  Me. 
My Lord, I never can requite this Love,  
Because you fight against yourself for me,  
For I see great contention in your thoughts.  Be. 
'Tis over now; go in, you'll find her there.  [Ex. Me. 
Oh! Memnon! now I wish thy Virtue strong.  
For if you mingle Smiles, you mingle Blood.  As Bessus is stealing after Memnon, Nabarzanes enters. Na. 
My Lord— my Lord—  Be. 
whose's that? I'm employed.  Na. 
I've Business for you that concerns your Life.  Be. 
I'm busied in concerns above my Life.  Na. 
Well let'em be of more Concern than Heaven,  
You shall abandon'em, and go with me.  
Patron the Greek, has been among our Troops,  
Discovered our designs, and told the King.  Be. 
Would Patron were in Hell.  Na. 
He shall be worse.  
For, head you Troops, he shall be in our Power.  Be. 
I'll come immediately.  Na. 
Immediately?  
What Business have you here, but with your Wife?  
Do you prefer a Kiss above a Crown,  
And all the Lives and Fortunes of your Friends?  
Then I believe Patron had this from you,  
And you have sold us all.  Be. 
Who, I?  Na. 
Yes, you.  
Your Wife, and You, the Cause and the World Sink,  
I'll save myself; Farewell.  Be. 
Hold— hold— I go—  
Oh! you have wronged me.  Na. 
Show it in the Field.  Be. 
I will, but I shall perish— go or stay.  
Stay, and the Hangman's Sword falls on my head.  
Go, my Wife's Whored— aside— oh! cursed troubled World,  
Where nothing without Sorrow can be had,  
And 'tis not easy to be Good or Bad.  
For Horror attends Evil— Sorrow Good,  
Vice Plagues the Mind, and Virtue Flesh and Blood.  [Ex.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE The Field.  Enter Darius, Artabasus, Patron, Guards. Ar. 
OH! have I saved Villains to kill my King?  Da. 
No more, no more, I know thy honest thoughts.  
Oh! my dear Children, now a long farewell.  
To all my Glory now a long farewell.  
Nay, oh! my Fate, I must for ruin fight,  
Cyrus and Alexander, did not show  
More Courage, to be Lords o'the whole World,  
Than I must do to have no share in it.  
For if these Villains Perish by my Sword,  
I cut off all the Army that I have.  
And I, the once Great Monarch of the World,  
Shall want a Cave, where I may hide my head.  
But Justice will be best for all Mankind.  
I'll show that I deserve the World I lose.  Pa. 
I must entreat your leave for one word more.  
Alas! I sooner shall have leave from you  
Than from myself; for every word I speak  
That grieves your heart, stabs mine, yet I must speak,  
There's scarce a faithful man in all your Camp.  Da. 
What dost thou say? are all the Persians false?  Pa. 
They are as true to you, as to themselves.  
But as in danger they have always done,  
So they do now, forsake you and themselves.  Da. 
Ha! do they join the Traitors?  Pa. 
Oh! Sir, no.  
They join with nothing but confounding fear;  
And that they meet with wherefoe're they go,  
Terrors beset 'em. Alexander comes,  
And here the Traitors boldly threaten 'em.  
They who had any Life in'em, are fled,  
And they that stay are held by Cowardice,  
They have not Soul enough, even for flight.  Ar. 
He has told Truth which I was loath to speak.  
We may as well force men into a Camp,  
From Sick and Dying as from wanton Beds.  
From Plagues as Luxury, a flattering Pest.  Da. 
Oh! Alexander, where would be thy Fame,  
Hadst thou my Army? well may'st thou subdue  
Kingdoms, by Men who merit to be Kings;  
For mine do not deserve the name of men.  Pa. 
Sir, one word, more, and then I shall have done.  
Not far from hence, I have four thousand Greeks.  
We marched to Persia, fifty thousand men;  
Did ever Greek forsake you, but by Death?  
Alas! Sir, now we cannot if we would.  
For in your Service we have fought ourselves,  
Out of our Blood, our Country, and our Friends.  
There is no Bactria, no Greece for us,  
Your Royal Self is now our sole retreat,  
We humbly beg, for all our Services,  
No greater Honour, than to be your Guard.  Ar. 
Sir, he desires an Honour, he deserves,  
And what may be of mighty use to you.  
His Greeks will be a Bulwark to yourself,  
And all your Men, give 'em new Courage.  
Sir, grant him his request.  Da. 
Not for the World!  
A Glorious King should ever more regard  
The Honourable Counsels than the safe.  
In my own Camp be a poor Fugitive?  
To my own Nation a Foreigner?  
To Foreigners a little Pensioner?  
Have no Authority, but what they give?  
And so descend from being a Persian King,  
To be a petty Lord of a few Greeks.  
The Traitors than will say they fight a Greek,  
And I shall give 'em Colour for their Crimes.  
No, I'll not fall by any fault of mine.  
I'll not forsake my Friends: if they quit me,  
The fault's not mine; and I had rather fall  
By Royal Charity to my own Slaves,  
Than Reign, by Stranger's Charity to me.  
Patron, a thousand thanks, I will accept  
The Service of thy Sword, but not this way.  
Go to thy Noble Greeks, and serve me there,  
And Heaven reward thy Love, and Gallantry.  Pa. 
Heaven be your Guard, I fear you've little else,  
Besides what you shall ever find in me.  Da. 
Thou Honour of thy Nation, shame to mine.  [Ex. Pa. 
Now put my men in readiness to fight,  
And then command the Traitors to my Feet.  
If they dare disobey— fall on—  [An Alarm. 
How now?  Ar. 
What should this mean?  Da. 
They make the first assault.  [Ex. Ar. 
My Chariot speedily— the news— the news.  Enter Artabazus. Ar. 
Sir, the Vanguard of Alexander's Troops  
Is in your Camp.  Da. 
Two Enemies at once,  
Thou fight the Rebels, and I'll fight the King—  [Ex. Da. Ar. a great cry, Alarm and disorder within, and Enter Darius stopping the flying Persians. Da. 
For shame! for shame, you Cowards! quit your King?  
And fly from sound; this is a false Alarm  
The Traitors made, by Alexander's Name  
To frighten you from me. Fly from his Name!  
How will you meet his Sword? but, by my Life,  
You shall encounter with his Sword or mine.  Enter Artabazus. Ar. 
Oh! Sir, a Cheat! a Cheat!  Da. 
I know it well.  
How many of our Men may be dispersed?  Ar. 
Sir, almost all; you've not a hundred left.  
And now the Traitors have surrounded you,  
Have interposed between the Greeks and you,  
And are in a great body drawing down.  Da. 
Then it is time.  The King offers to kill himself, but is held by Ar. Ar. 
Hold, Sir.  Da. 
Now I reflect.  
This Crime belongs only to Regicides.  
Why should I take their Guilt upon myself?  
I ne'er yet stained my Sword with Innocent Blood,  
Why should I do it in my dying hour?  Ar. 
Oh! mournful hour!— oh! would you had received  
The Gallant Offer of the Noble Greek.  
You had been safe as in a Tower of Steel.  Da. 
Not from myself; it would ha' stabbed my heart.  
To beg poor Life, from a few wandering Greeks.  
Alas! from them I could ha' had no more.  Ar. 
No doubt the Persians would have followed you.  Da. 
I'm better followed now, and more secure.  
I'm safe from the Dishonour and the Crime,  
Of quitting them, or doing any thing  
That may deserve my miserable fall.  
The thought brings many comforts to my Soul.  Ar. 
A dreadful fall indeed! how have I seen  
A hundred Nations follow you to Wars!  
Follow! Adore you. Now your only Guards  
Are a few Eunuchs, and a weak old man.  
And you, who oft have rode on Golden Gods,  
Are trod on now, by every little Slave.  Da. 
Oh! these are many Darts, and they're all keen.  
Yet did they only light upon myself,  
My pain would be no more, than if they fell  
On a dead part; for in my Queen I'm dead.  
But in my Children and my Friends I live.  
Oh! there my Sense is quick, my Torments sharp.  
Prithee dear Artabazus, when I'm dead,  
Go to my Mother, Children, all my Friends,  
And tell 'em how I fought, and how I mourned,  
My Courage, Honour, and my Love to them  
Stuck to me the last; but nothing else,  
I give'em cause to Mourn, but not to Blush.  Ar. 
Oh! Sir, you rather give'em cause of pride,  
Men are admired, not praised for Happiness.  
virtue's the Lustre, Pomp is but a show.  
That pleases Gods, This Women, Fools, and Boys,  
You conquered Power, where Alexander falls,  
And now in Misery you're Glorious still;  
But, Sir, would you would try if you could scape.  Da. 
Ah! whither can I scape? to scornful Life?  
I would not have it, were it in my Power.  
Then sure I would not steal so poor a thing,  
And if I would, now the Attempt is vain.  
I shall be catched in the disgraceful Theft.  
No, here I will attend my Destiny.  
And now, good Artabazus, take thy leave.  Ar. 
How! leave you, Sir, in all this great distress?  Da. 
Alas! thy stay can do me little good.  
'Twill rather hurt me much; increase my Grief.  
If thou hast any pleasure in my sighs,  
Continue with me; I have none in thine,  
No, we afflict each other; prithee go.  
I love to have my Friends share in my joys,  
But would have all my sorrows to myself,  
And I can best contend with 'em alone.  
For Sorrow I perceive's love's solitude,  
I prithee take not from me solitude.  Ar. 
I am not used, Sir, to dispute your will.  
But I shall never never see you more,  
Or at least never till we meet in Heaven.  
There is a Heaven, or there are no Gods.  
Gods would not suffer so much Misery  
In their poor Creatures, but for some great End;  
And all this world can never recompense  
The sorrows of the least poor honest man.  
What shall be done then for a Martyred King?  Da. 
Nay, I confess I look, and long for Death.  
Come Artabazus— take my last Embrace,  
'Tis all I have to give thee for thy love.  Ar. 
My King! my King!  Da. 
My ever faithful friend.  
Oh! thou art rooting deeper in my heart,  
Tear thyself from me, or we cannot part.  Ar. 
I have not strength to do't—  Da. 
I cannot part—  
Or see thee go— first let me Veil my Face,  
And then betake to my last Friend, the Earth,  
In whose cold Bosom I shall rest secure;  
No Traitors will have Plots upon me there.  
Now go.—  The King flings his Robe over his Face, then falls on the ground. Ar. 
Farewell for ever, Sir.  [Ex. Da. 
Farewell.  
Go all— and as you go, plunder my Tents,  [To the Eunuchs. 
Let not my bloody Murderers be my Heirs.  
Better my Gold pay your Fidelity,  
Than their base Villainy. Go— 'tis enough.  
Your Faith and Love, have lived as long as I.  As the Eunuchs go off, they set up a mournful cry. At which Bessus, Nabarzanes, and Dataphernes, and their Guards, rush in upon the King with drawn Swords. Be. 
What means this cry?  Na. 
Has the King killed himself?  Darius rises. Da. 
No, Villains; I yet live to punish you,  
And lash your Crimes with Crimes, your cowardly  
Dissimulation, hellish Cruelty,  
Ingratitude more horrid than 'em both,  
By the most Barbarous Murder of your King.  Be. 
Sir, in this noise and storm of Passion,  
It is in vain to utter peaceful sounds.  
But time, that removes Mountains, calms the Sea,  
Will Calm and clear up all; and you, who think  
You have received unpardonable wrong,  
Will ask us pardon for the wrong done us.  Da. 
Oh! insolence!  Na. 
Sir, you will find this Truth.  
Mean while we must go on in this foul way,  
To find the Fair; there, Guards, secure the King.  Da. 
D'ye say secure me; and yet call me King?  
Oh! rise in my Revenge and Aid, all Kings!  
This is your common Cause, I am a King.  
Rise all Mankind, for all Humanity  
Is by these Villains scorned, disgraced, and cursed,  
By what they do to me their most kind Friend.  
Nay, rise all Gods! your Power suffers in me  
Your Minister, and a deputed God  
Your Justice suffers, I am Innocent.  Be. 
Well, Sir, we pray then spare the Innocent,  
Beat not yourself, against that Loyal force,  
Which we have built to fortify your Life.  Na. 
Yes, Sir, we mean your Service, and we pray  
Force us on no indecent Violence.  
We'll treat you Honourably, if you please.  Da. 
Monsters of Treachery and Ingratitude!  The King is led out by a Guard. Be. 
Ho! Dataphernes!  Dat. 
I am here, my Lord.  Be. 
I trust the King to you— upon your Life,  
Keep a strong Guard.  Na. 
That will not be enough,  
Let him be chained.  Be. 
It is not ill advised.  
But for the honour that we bear ourselves,  
Let's honourably treat his Dignity,  
Since we ourselves design to be both Kings.  
Then let us beat Gold Ingots into Chains,  
'Twill give a Lustre to our black attempt.  [Aside to Nabarzanes. Na. 
Th'attempt may appear black; our ends are Fair.  Be. 
'Tis true; Sirs, you shall have an Inheritance  
In manly Freedom; your Posterity  
Shall all be born with Titles to themselves.  
Now, my brave Friends, plunder the Royal Tents.  [Guards shout. 
Then let us face the Greeks and Persians,  
And see what they will do.  Na. 
What dare they do?  
Destroy the King? for if they stir, he dies.  Be. 
'Tis true, but if they will our Power obey,  
We'll do such things, shall give us right to sway:  
The right, that only does from Birth proceed,  
In my Esteem, springs from a Bastard Breed.  
But Virtue is the Offspring of a God,  
Virtue alone Legitimates the Blood.  [Ex.  

SCENE The Palace.  Enter Barzana and Oronte. Ba. 
How! Chain his King? oh! execrable Wretch!  
Now I perceive whence springs my horrid Love.  
'Tis an unnatural fire reigned down from Heaven,  
To burn a bloody Traitor in his Bed.  
I wonder not it never could be quenched,  
I fasted, wept, and prayed, yet found no cure;  
No safety even at the Altars of the Gods;  
Love seized me there; and very well it might,  
It has, it seems, Commission from the Gods.  Or. 
Madam, no doubt you have conjectured right.  
A dreadful storm hangs over your Lord's Head;  
So you, the part most tender, feel it first;  
For else I know you could control your Love.  
But, oh! it is no more within your Power  
Than the day is; for the same reason too  
'Tis hurried on by Heaven.  Ba. 
I'm apt to think  
All Love is Fate, the Will and Choice of Heaven  
Compelling ours. But Fate, to conquer me,  
Has in brave Memnon gathered, for its aid,  
All the Perfections that can be in man.  
Now, who can stand under so great a force?  
'Tis true, I know my Temper is so firm,  
Not all the Love and Excellence on Earth,  
Can ever melt me down to one loose thought.  
But yet the pain and sorrow of my Love,  
Will throw me into the Grave.  Or. 
No, Madam, no:  
Your Love will wear away by length of time.  Ba. 
Oh, never! Memnon's Charms are Powers Divine,  
To punish the ill Father by the Son;  
And I must love whilst Heaven's anger lasts:  
For ought I know, to all Eternity.—  [Knocking. 
Knocking? I'm overheard.  [Oronte runs to the door. Or. 
Lord Memnon's here.  Ba. 
Undone! undone.  
Thou hast betrayed— betrayed me—  Or. 
No, indeed.  Ba. 
Thou hast, thou false, thou wicked cruel wretch:  
Not Heaven itself can make me happy now,  
Except by falling on my cursed head.  
Fall on me, Heaven; sink beneath me, Earth;  
Any thing swallow me, but Infamy.  
But I will stop its course, cost what it will.  
Who is there?—  Enter a Woman. Wo. 
Madam.  Ba. 
Run, and call your Lord.  Or. 
Hold, Madam, hold— oh! do not take our Lives,  
Before you know our Guilt.  Ba. 
Is it not plain?  
Can he have innocent Affairs with me?  
Th' address alone, is highly Criminal.  
It would undo my Honour, were it known.  
Do Persian Ladies, that regard their Fame,  
Hold any secret Intercourse with Men?  
No, no— he comes to do his Father wrong;  
And has it seems a secret hope I'll yield.  
Whence could he have this hope, but from thyself?  
Thou hast half cured my heart, I hate you both,  
And I'm resolved, his Father shall know all.  Or. 
Oh! Madam, hold— indeed I'm innocent—  Ba. 
What brings him hither then?  Or. 
I do not know.  
Yet now I call to mind, perhaps my Lord,  
Has cast him off in compliment to you,  
(He said he would) and now Lord Memnon's come  
To beg your Intercession.  Ba. 
That may be.  
It is well thought; I'm grieved I've censured him.  
Now I will see him; but I am afraid  
I shall be all Confusion, and let fall  
That port of Honour, I would fain maintain.  
Reach me a Veil to guard my Eyes and Heart,  
And cover my disorders what I can.  
Now call him in.  [She veils and seats her. [Or. brings in Memnon. Or. 
Madam, my Lord, is here.  Ba. 
My Lord, I'm to your Valour so obliged,  
I'm in confusion with the sense of it.  
I am now discomposed; and cannot give  
Your Visit, the Reception it deserves:  
Pray, if you have any Commands for me,  
Express your will, that I may know my own.  
For I shall serve myself, by serving you.  Me. 
Here's more Encouragement! Good Gods be praised!  [Aside. 
Madam, when Fortune— Heavens! how I shake?  [Aside. 
When Fortune gave me— pray be not displeased—  
The Glory Kings would purchase with their Crowns,  
To save your Honour, Liberty, and Life;  
She blessed the Universe, but ruined me,  
By hopeless Love for you.  Ba. 
Oh! thou false Wretch.  [Ba. rises in Anger, and flings off her Veil. 
Nay, stir not, trust my Mercy you had best.  [Too Or. 
My Lord, I thought not to hear this from you,  
So famed for every Virtue as you are,  
I sooner should have feared the fall of Heaven;  
That I shall look for now, nothing is strange!  
And better Heaven fall, than Innocence.  
Therefore be gone, and think of me no more,  
Or else, I will acquaint your Father all.  Me. 
Madam, 'tis done already; ere I came  
I told him all, and had his free consent.  Ba. 
Oh! horror! now 'tis worse than I believed!  [Aside. 
This Traitress has informed my Husband all.  
And he, in rage, has flung me off to Hell.  
Did he consent you should address to me?  Me. 
No, Madam, not to your fair self by name.  
I do not know your name.  Ba. 
Not know my Name?  Me. 
No, Madam, when I met you in the Field,  
Love and Amazement took up all my Sense,  
Had I been told your Name, I had not known.  
The Enemy and Night then parted us;  
And a long Night it was; I saw no day  
Till here, this happy Morning, I saw you.  
I found my Father, told him what befell.  
He gave me a full grant to make you mine,  
Be what you would.  Or. 
Now, Madam, was I false?—  [Aside to Barzana. Ba. 
I am more wretched than I was before.  
I have found Treasure which I cannot keep,  
The Love of him I love, is now my grief,  
For I am forced to cast it all away.  
I must discover to him, who I am.  
Alas! my Lord, this Love is but a Dream,  
Your Heart received my Image as it past;  
Remove the face, the shadow vanishes;  
Leave me, your Love is gone.  
Be't as it will,  
All Heaven and Earth is placed between us two.  
For, to be plain with you, I am a Wife.  Me. 
Madam, I will acknowledge a bold Truth,  
I sought you much, but Guide I could have none.  
For you are far above description.  
Chance brought me hither, when the wanton winds  
Opened the folding doors, and showed me you.  
My Soul retired in a Religious awe,  
But your enchanting words soon brought her back.  
I heard you own inspiring Love for me.  
Madam, would you do that, were you a Wife?  Ba. 
Oh! I shall blush to Death.  Aside to Or. Or. 
Good, Madam, why?  
He knows not who you are; you did not say,  
You are his Father's wife—  [Aside. Ba. 
'Tis very true—  [Aside. 
What, held my tongue? But, oh! he knows too much,  
He knows my Love, more he shall never know.  
I'd rather burn in any fire, than shame.  
I will get free, then, like a Vision,  
I'll vanish hence, and never be heard of more.  Me. 
Oh! Madam, I perceive you are disturbed.  Ba. 
Indeed, My Lord, you've give me great Offence.  Me. 
Alas! I fear myself am the Offence.  
Why should you be ashamed of innocent Love?  
Unless you be ashamed of him you Love.  
Oh! is it so with me?  Ba. 
Y'ave made it now  
Indecent to consider what you are.  
And if you have not, your ill Father has.  
Your wicked Father has destroyed your hopes.  Me. 
Oh! must I suffer for my Father's faults?  Ba. 
And must I suffer for your Father's faults?  
I am a Princess o'the Royal Blood,  
And if I League with you, I cast away  
My Fortune, Conscience, Honour, nay my Life,  
Nay both shall die,— and by your Father's hand.  Me. 
Oh! Madam, I am sure that fear is vain.  
Pray send for him, I know he'll give consent.  Ba. 
Oh! horror— horror!—  Me. 
Madam, do not fear.  
Run for my Father.  Ba. 
Will you murder me?  
All of the Royal Race will seek my Life,  
If I be known to love your Father's Son.  Me. 
Madam, we'll fly to the Brave Enemy.  
Ba. I fly away in secret with a man,  
And with the Son of the King's Enemy.  
Should my Friends pardon me, yet I should die  
With Shame, and Horror. And I'm much displeased  
You should embrace such shameful thoughts o'me,  
And I even scorn you, for your loving me,  
Since you believe I have no more desert.  Me. 
Madam your merit seems so great to me,  
As gives a Grace to every thing you do.  
You can do nothing will appear a fault.  
Madam, I'll do such things to serve the King,  
As will conceal, the faults of my ill Birth.  Ba. 
You can do nothing; Nature binds your hands.  
Will you destroy your Father? horrid thought!  
Yet if you do not, he destroys the King.  
That Hell surrounds you; 'tis impossible  
To come at you, but through all Misery.  
And why should you desire such ill to me?  
Then go, if you'd preserve my Love or Life.  
Your stay will but incur my Mortal hate,  
Nay, perhaps bring my Blood upon your head.  Me. 
The Gods forbid, I'll rather sink to Hell.  Ba. 
Then go, whilst I have one kind thought of you.  
And my kind thoughts are all you shall enjoy.  Me. 
All this I feared, expected, almost wished.  
So much I tender you above myself.  
For my ill Father's Son, must look for Plagues,  
They are my Birthright, and Inheritance.  
And I should be most cruel and unjust,  
If I should seek to fix 'em upon you.  
No, Madam, fly our cursed House, and me.  
Your generous Loyalty, I praise and love,  
Though 'tis the Sword of Heaven to cut me off.  
Well, Madam, I will take myself away.  
Nay, more, I beg you'll throw me from your thoughts,  
That I may ne'er be trouble to you more.  Ba. 
Now he goes nearer to my heart than ever.  [Aside. 
'Tis dangerous to see, or hear him more;  
And cruelty to send him bleeding hence,  
Without some Balm—  
My Lord, I were unjust  
To love you least when you deserve it most.  
No, no, you ever shall possess my thoughts;  
And Heaven that made me, has no more of me.  Me. 
Oh! Madam, many thousand thousand thanks  
For this Compassion; though 'twill be no more  
Than a fair Monument, o'er a dead Wretch.  Ba. 
Oh! I have held my violent Grief till now,  
To make our parting easy as I could.  
But now I've lost all power o'er myself,  
And if you longer stay, I shall fall dead.  
Go, if you've pity for yourself, or me.  Me. 
I go— I go— and now can easier go.  
Your kind Tears comfort me— oh! wretched me!  
The grief of her I love, is all my joy.  
And now a long farewell— my Love was born,—  
In a most fatal Field, in Death's dark shades.  
And it will ne'er have Health till it repair  
To Death again; its Mournful Native Air.—  [Exit. Ba. 
He's gone! and I shall never see him more.  
I must not, will not, dare not, see him more.  
I'll fly if possible all thoughts of him;  
All knowledge of myself— Poor Womankind—  
Heaven for our ruin, gifts on us bestows,  
Charms to allure, no Power to opppose.  
In Passion we are strong, in Reason weak,  
Constant alone, to error and mistake,  
In Virtue feigned, in Vanity sincere;  
Witty in Sin, and for Damnation fair.—  [Exeunt Omnes.   

ACT V.  

SCENE A Garden.  Enter Memnon. Me. 
OH! I am blasted in my Bloom of Youth.  
I am more miserable for my Youth.  
For the more Years and Life I have to come,  
The larger Fields of Misery and Shame,  
Have my unhappy Father sowed for me.  
Well— I will trouble nothing but myself.  
I'll wander from my Friends, my Fortunes, Hopes—  
Then like a Plummet parted from the Line,  
I will sink down in deep obscurity,  
Where never more shall trace be found o' me.  
Ha!— oh! my Heart! the Princess comes this way,  Enter Barzana and Oronte. 
Comes like a sudden spring on my dead hopes,  
And forces 'em, methinks, into new Life.  
Something, methinks, from Heaven stops my way,  
And tells me, she and I must never part.  Ba. 
Where is the Chariot.  Or. 
At the Garden gate.  Ba. 
Come then away— Oh! Heavens! Memnon here!  
Turn from him quickly.  Me. 
Hold, dear Madam, hold.  Ba. 
My Lord, what mean you? thirst you for my Blood?  Me. 
Oh! Madam, do not entertain those fears.  Ba. 
Do not you entertain false dangerous hopes.  
Your Father has this minute left the Field.  Me. 
But not his Love to me.  Ba. 
You'll find him quit.  
His Love to you, and all Humanity,  
If he should catch you, seeking Leagues with me.  
I fear he's at the Palace Window now,  
Oh! if he be, this minute is our last.  Me. 
These are vain terrors; oh! would he were here.  
This Minute were the last of all our Griefs.  
But oh! the first of our Immortal Joys.  
And something in me says, it will be so.  
Methinks I have a sight of Paradise.  Ba. 
Oh! you speak Oracles— methinks in you  
A voice from Heaven has Prophesied our death.  
The Pangs of Death, already seize my Heart,  
I tremble, swear, and I've scarce Breath to speak.  
Know there is yet another stronger Cause,  
Than any I have named, why we must part.  Me. 
Another Cause?  Ba. 
Oh! do not inquire what,  
If you take any joy in loving me.  
For when I've told you, you must love no more,  
If you have any tenderness for me;  
When I have told you, I shall speak no more,  
The secret will tear out my heart— Oh! fly—  
If you would love, or live, or have me live.  Me. 
Y'ave stunned me so— I have no strength to stir.  Ba. 
Oh! he will loiter till his Father comes,  
The Gods will bate my Passion no disgrace.  
Know, I'm a Wife; nay more, your Father's Wife.  
He faints— he faints— Now should his Father come—  
And find him in my Arms.  [Me. faints, Ba. runs to him and supports him. Or. 
Madam, he's come.  Ba. 
Oh! horror we are lost— my Lord, my Lord.  Enter Bessus— who seeing Me. in Barzana's Arms, draws. Me. recovers, Barzana runs to hold Bessus. Be. 
Oh! Villain.  Ba. 
Oh! my Lord—  Be. 
Oh! Impudent!  
And foolish Whore! wilt thou proclaim thy shame?  
And murder him, thou hast a mind to save?  
Had he a thousand lives, now he should die.  Ba. 
Oh! hear me first  Be. 
Hear thee increase thy sins.  
By falsehood? is not Incest Crime enough?  
I saw you from the Palace, meet, Caress.  
And is not this your second meeting? ha!  
I will provide for you a third meeting place,  
In Death and Hell— thou frightful Monster— die.  [wounds Me. who falls. Ba. 
Unnatural Parricide! dire Regicide!—  Be. 
The fitter match for an incestuous Wife.  Me. 
My Lord, you wrong us; we are innocent.  
I loved— but knew her not— she banished me—  
I was now going to obey her doom;  
When Heaven contrived this Meeting for our Death,  
We sought it not— for ever to prevent  
All future Meetings, she revealed herself.  
Then did I sink to Death, under surprise,  
And horror, for my faulty unfortunate Love;  
Which is more trouble to me, than this Death.  
Oh! I had rather have a thousand Deaths  
Got by misfortune, than your ill-got Crown—  [Dies. Ba. 
Oh! he has told thee truth— thou Murderer.  
He was too excellent! for all the Gods  
Thought him a God, and took him to themselves.  
And I will follow him; yes I will do't.  
And we will revel to Eternity;  
And it shall be the chiefest of our Joys,  
To be the chief of thy Eternal Plagues.  Be. 
A damp goes to my Heart, I am afraid  
I've been too rash: I wish this were undone.  
Come take her to my Chariot—  Ba. 
Touch me not.  
The Gods be praised I've found my Dagger now.  
I'll go another way.  Be. 
Sh'as stabbed herself.  
Call help— I'll have her live if possible.  Ba. 
I have help here.  Be. 
Horror! she tears her wound.  
Hold— hold— her hands.  Ba. 
Then I will hold my Breath.  Be. 
Is this thy Virtue? thou, who canst commit  
This most unnatural sin against thyself,  
Wouldst not refuse thyself a sweeter Crime.  Ba. 
Indeed, I'm sorry for this sinful Death,  
I would shun Hell, if only to shun thee.  
Hell purged by Fire, has less Offence than thou.  Be. 
Oh! thou art most ungrateful to my Love,  
I have more Love for thee, than words can speak.  Ba. 
I am glad of it, than 'twill be thy Plague.  
And to increase it, know I'm innocent.  
So was thy Noble Son; he sought my Love,  
But knew me not, for I concealed myself.  
'cause he had found my secret Love for him.  
And then I could not show my blushing face.  Be. 
You loved him then it seems?—  Ba. 
That I confess,  
I loved him, but it was ere I was thine.  
Since that I did subdue myself for thee.  
Revealed myself, and banished him for ever.  
And he was taking his Eternal leave,  
When thou, (oh! Murderer!) tookst his Innocent Life.  Be. 
If this be true.—  Ba. 
'Tis true; they're my last words.  
All my past Life, is evidence enough,  
And so is that of thy most excellent Son.  
For had he any other fault but thee?  
And I had less, my Birth was Glorious.  
Yet has my Life, honoured my Royal Birth.  
And now I hope my Death will crown my Life.  
It has some sin which you, good Gods, forgive.  
Your Justice has had Honour by my fall.  
Oh! honour now the Virtuous part o' me,—  
My Soul— you know I never sinned in will;  
Only in Blood, and that foul Blood I spill.  [Dies. Be. 
Oh! horror! horror!  Enter Nabarzanes. Na. 
How now? why this rage?  Be. 
Look there.  Na. 
Your beloved Son and Wife in blood?  
Amazing! how came this?  Be. 
No matter how.  
They're dead, and I am cursed; nay, I am forced  
To curse the Virtues of my Son and Wife.  
The World's great Blessings were my Miseries.  Na. 
I'm glad o''is; they did divide your Soul,  
And cut the Stream into small Rivulets,  
It could not bear the Burdens o'the State.  
Now 'twill be all united in the Crown.  Enter Dataphernes. Dat. 
My Lord, the Enemy, the Enemy.  Be. 
What Enemy?  Dat. 
The Macedonians,  
And Alexander.  Be. 
Alexander? ha!  Na. 
How do you know?  Dat. 
We had it from our Scouts.  
But go upon the Mountains, you may see  
The Spirit of that Monarch in his March.  
He wings along the Air in Clouds of Dust,  
And does not march, but fly.  Be. 
Bring out the King.  Na. 
Ha! what to do?  Be. 
What else, but take his Life?  
I will not die in Compliment to him;  
Spare him a Guard, when we want men ourselves.  
I've bathed my Sinews in my Son's hot Blood;  
Now they are strong enough for any thing.  Na. 
Hold— hold— you are too hot, let him alone.  
If we should barbarously Butcher him,  
The Crime will have such a grim Ghastly face,  
The basest Persian Cowards, will be scared  
Out of their Natures into something Brave.  
Coward's oft by flying, into Valour fly.  
Our Friends will leave us, and our Enemies  
Fly in our Faces.  Be. 
True, what shall we do?  Na. 
Tempt him to yield.  Be. 
I know he scorns to do't.  Na. 
We will deceive him by feigned Penitence.  Be. 
I do not find him easily deceived.  Na. 
Let's make a Trial; if he'll not be gained,  
We'll murder him unknown to any one,  
Besides ourselves, and then give out he yields,  
And what we do is by his own Command.  Be. 
'Tis well advised— draw up our Troops with speed;  [To Data. 
And then give out the King and we are friends.  [Ex.  

SCENE A Prison.  Enter King in Chains of Gold. Da. 
A King; a Persian King, chained by his Slaves?  
The Slaves he once so favoured and so loved;  
Oh! the amazing Villainies of men,  
And stupefying Patience o'the Gods!  
The gracious Gods seem only infinite,  
In suffering ill, and man doing it.  
Man therefore is most feared, and most obeyed.  
My Murderers come; my griefs are near their end.  Enter Bessus and Nabarzanes. Na. 
Now if these Chains weigh the King's Spirit down  
To our desires, we shall be legal Rogues.—  [Aside. Be. 
What is it spirits me away to fear?  
He's in my Chains, yet I am in his Power.  Na. 
I find it so with me; I've fought my way  
Through bravest men, why am I scared by dreams?  
Let's kneel, and speak to him.  Be. 
Well, do you speak.  
I am an ill Dissembler.  Na. 
Royal Sir—  [Kneels. 
We humbly beg you, lend a gracious Ear  
To your poor Slaves, by your hard Fortune thrown,  
On th'only things we fear; on infamy,  
Your Anger, and a seeming horrid Crime;  
Though what we did, was all in Loyalty.  Be. 
'Tis true; we saw Fate quarrel with you, Sir.  
And so we came between to part the fray.  Da. 
Oh! you poor Wretches, how I pity you?  
Could you have fallen thus miserably in fight,  
There you had been the Envy of the Brave.  
Now you're the scorn of all. As to myself,  
Y'ave given me endless rest. The greatest weight  
Hangs on these Chains, is you ingratitude.  
Oh! how have I deserved all this from you?  Be. 
You have deserved no ill, and shall have none.  Ba. 
Indeed I do not know the man I've wronged;  
Bring him, I'll give him power to take my Life.  
If I've offended, 'twas against myself.  
In all my Kingdom, I was the sole Slave.  
I toiled the most, and most observed the Laws.  
The great Prerogative, I most desired,  
Was to be uncontrolled in doing Good.  
If I gave fear, it was to Potent Kings.  
I was in danger most, in Pleasure least.  
My Luxury lay all in my Fair Queen.  
My sole Intemperance was my Love to her.  
My Love and Grief for her, admit no bounds.  
And oh! how have I Loved and Favoured you?  
I gave you Kingdoms, and with greater Joy  
Than you received 'em— oh! methoughts I gained,  
What I gave you, and these are my Rewards.  
You murder me, who would have died for you.  
Alas! It is your fault, I am not dead.  Na. 
Indeed we mean you Good; and do no more  
Than what Priests in Devotion do to Gods.  
Who fasten 'em from falling, or flight.  
We feared your flight to Mercenary Greeks,  
Or falling into Macedonian Power.  
And, Sir, to show how much we honour you,  
We have given shining Pomp to Misery,  
Since 'tis become a Waiter on our King.  Be. 
And if you'll pardon us, and favour us,  
We'll make you greater than you ever were.  Da. 
I favour Treason! I assume your Guilt!  
I'll rather bravely die, then basely Reign.  
Indeed my Children are most dear to me,  
But for that cause, I will not taint their Blood,  
And make the Children of a King, become  
The Children of a Traitor to a King.  
I can, and will be great without your help.  
Yes, in these Chains, I'll triumph over you;  
I will Reign o'er you when you've murdered me;  
In my Grave punish you. All Kings and Gods  
Will be the Ministers of my Revenge,  
And execute what e'er my Blood commands.  Na. 
We lose our time— come, strike.  Be. 
I will, and home.—  [They wound Darius, who falls. Na. 
So, this is a great work; but common Spirits  
Ha' not reception for things great and high.  
Let us not trust, 'em with this spectacle.  
Ho! Guard.  Enter a Guard. Guard. 
My Lord.  Na. 
The King has Killed himself.  
We fear false Tongues will lay his Blood to us.  
Therefore conceal his Death, till the fight's past,  
As you regard your Lives. In the mean while,  
Cover the Body in a Wagon close,  
That it may pass for Baggage; drive it then  
Into some private place, out of all Roads,  
And kill the Horses, lest they wander thence.  [Guard carry out Darius. Be. 
Now let us to the Field; for there's our Doom,  
Our Innocence, or Treason is to come.  
It is success makes innocence a sin;  
And there is nothing, but a Sword between.  
If th' end be glorious, glorious is the way;  
They always have the Cause, who have the day.   

SCENE A Field.  A noise of a Battle. After shouts. Enter Artabazus, Patron and Greeks dragging Bessus and Nabarzanes. Pa. 
Oh! thank you, for this Justice, you good Gods.  Ar. 
Go to King Alexander; let him know  
The Gods have given the Traitors to our Swords.  
Let us enjoy Revenge for our King's Blood,  
And then he shall command our Swords and Lives.  Pa. 
Oh! that the King enjoyed it! where have you  
Concealed his Body; you damned Regicides?  Enter Persians. Per. 
My Lord, my Lord, the King—  Ar. 
What of the King?  Per. 
He's found; a Macedonian Officer,  
By help of Persian Guides, searching a Spring  
To quench his Thirst, after the heat of fight;  
He in the woods saw a poor Wagon stray,  
Drawn by faint dying Horses stuck with Darts.  
And looking in it, found a dying man  
Gored in his Blood; which proved to be our King.  Ar. 
Horror! he lives!— let us away, away,  
That he may see Revenge before he dies.  Pa. 
And we will weigh him out exact revenge.  
Here chain, and cut 'em as they did their King.  [Ex. The Scene is drawn, a Wagon appears. The Horses bloody, and full of Darts, some falling, others fallen. Polystratus and Persians support Darius, who is Bloody and Faint. Pol. 
Run, run for help, while we will bind his wounds.  Da. 
Ha! who art thou?  Pol. 
A Macedonian, Sir.  Da. 
My Enemy so kind?  Pol. 
A Gallant Man  
Fights out of Love to Duty and Renown;  
And loves and honours a brave Enemy.  Da. 
What is thy name?  Pol. 
'Tis Polystratus, Sir.  Da. 
Brave Man; more kind to me, than my Friends are.  
These were the Presents of my once dear Friends,  
Bessus and Nabarzanes.  Pol. 
Hellish Dogs.  Da. 
'Tis no small comfort in my wretched State,  
My grateful dying thoughts will not be lost.  
Tell thy brave King, I die deep in his Debt.  
I never once obliged him in the least,  
And he has nobly treated all my Friends.  
My Mother, Brother, Children, my Fair Queen.  
Granted their Lives, and Royal Splendour too,  
They scarce could tell they were unfortunate.  
When my near Kindred, and once Bosom Friends,  
Oh whom I Life, and Kingdoms have bestowed,  
Have plundered me of all. Oh! tell thy King,  
I beg the Gods, for Universal Good,  
To make him Monarch o' the Universe.  
And for the common Cause of all Crowned Heads,  
I challenge the Revenge due to my Blood.  Pol. 
Sir, it will be revenged, your Murderers  
Are in the hands of your most Faithful Slaves.  Da. 
I'm glad on't; for the sake of all Mankind.  
Pity the Sea has bounds, if Sin has none.  
Better men sunk in Sea, than Villainy.  
I'm faint, and thirsty; I but lately saw  
Some drinking at a Spring, not far from hence.  
A little Water would refresh me much.  Pol. 
Sir, it was I, you shall have some with speed.  [Pol. fetches the King water in his Helmet, the King drinks. Da. 
How vainly do we pity Poverty!  
The Gods sit at the Table o'the Poor,  
And turn their Water to delicious Wine.  
Never had I, in pompous Luxury,  
Such Pleasure, as this draught o'water yields.  
But Fortune does pursue me to the last.  
I'm forced to beg even Water for my Thirst,  
And though a King, I cannot pay for it.  
But Alexander will;— give me thy hand.  
Prithee for me touch Alexander's hand.  
The sole remaining Pledge I have to give,  
For all my grateful Love, to that brave Prince.  [Dies. Pol. 
He's gone! he's gone! and it is well he's so.  
Oh! wretched Prince, whose Happiness is Death.  
Let's bear the Sacred Body to our King;  
For he will give it Royal Funerals.  [Ex. Poly. and Persians with the Body. Enter another way, Artabazus, Patron, Persians, Greeks; with Bessus, and Nabarzanes, chained and wounded. Per. 
Here is the Spring, the King's not far from hence.  Ar. 
Oh! no— for see the ground all stained with Blood.  
And no doubt Royal Blood, let us pursue  
The dreadful tract, 'twill bring us to the King.  Pa. 
'Twill bring these Villains to Damnation.  Enter a Persian. 2 Per. 
My Lord, I met the Macedonians  
With the King's Body, and the King is dead.  Ar. 
Oh! Prince, the best, and yet most wronged of men.  
What Joy and Glory did he not deserve!  
And yet what Misery did he not endure?  
And now denied the comfort of Revenge.  Pa. 
Perhaps he may enjoy it after Death.  
Oh Royal Shade! if yet thou be'st not fled  
To blessed Abodes, bear this detested place,  
But while we entertain thee with Revenge.  
Drink sweet Revenge, till thy great sorrows Sleep.  
Then thou, and all good things, fly hence for ever.  
Here take these Monsters, torture 'em to Death.  
Ha! pleasing Harmony! hear you it not?  [Soft Music. Ar. 
Yes, with great Admiration; for methinks  
This is no time or place for such delight.  Pa. 
A Sense of the King's Murder, seems impressed  
On Beasts and Plants, and every thing but those  
Who threw at once their King and Nature off.  
Lion's come roaring from their Caves, than died.  
The Cedars groaned, then fell. Th'Earth deeply tore  
Her Bowels, and then wept a bloody Spring.  
Straight all the Plants and Flowers drooped, and died.  
They must be most unnatural Villains then,  
That now find Pleasure, but none such are near.  Enter a Persian. Per. 
My Lord, the Traitors are in Torments Dead.  [The Scene is drawn, and the Carcases of Bessus and Nabarzanes are seen, hung in Chains, and stuck with Darts, a Guard attending. At another part o' the Stage, is seen the Ghost of Darius brightly habited. Pa. 
Oh! now I see the Cause, of these Divine  
Miraculous Sounds; I see the King, the King,  
More Lively than he ever was in's Life,  
More Pompous than in all his Royal Pomp.  Ar. 
I see him— and my Spirit, raised with joy,  
Ascends to meet him— happy Vision.  
Virtue triumphing over Villainy.  Pa. 
The Royal Shadow smiles and points to 'em—  Ar. 
This is the difference 'tween the good and bad.  
Death shows it truly, Life is a false light,  
But the true Diamond, appears by Night.  [Ex.    

The EPILOGUE, spoke by her that acts Barzana.  
OUR Poet fears he too much Blood has shed,  
So I am come to show I am not dead.  
My Part, will all the wanton Masks displease;  
That's half the Pit, and all the Galleries.  
Rather than take into my Breast a Fair,  
And brave young Lover, thrust a Dagger there!  
You put your Bosoms to another use,  
'Tis a vile Pagan Custom I produce.  
Pagan's may rather die, than be debauched,  
Good Christians Sin, to be well Kept and Coached.  
Besides, to kill myself for Love, I fear  
Will to you Sparks improbable appear,  
Who in side Boxes daily crowd, and there  
Plant all your murdering shot against the Fair  
Four Teer of Beaus, o'er one another placed,  
And each one hopes to kill a Box at least.  
And yet with all this terrible design,  
Sink not one Heart, only the Playhouse Coyn.  
How you look down with scorn on a Pit Beau?  
The Wretch into his Grave does living go.  
The Lord may have some Mercy on his Ghost,  
Bus as for his poor Body, that's quite lost.  
Now our side Boxes are a Smithfield grown,  
Where Town and Country Nags for Sale are shown.  
Where any Lady may her humour fit,  
With a tall Palfry, or a little Tit.  
And yet I do not hear the Ladies buy;  
Nay, Sirs, they towards you hardly cast an Eye.  
The Ladies nobly pay the House their due,  
Why should they give four Shillings to see you?  
Not all your Faces are worth half the Sum,  
Get Flags and Trumpets, and try who will come.  
The Images of Virtue, we have shown,  
We know will please you Hero's o' the Town,  
And Heroines, because they are your own.  
In Gallant faithful Patron, and my dear  
Loved Memnon, you brave men of Arms appear.  
The Ladies in Barzana, see your Face,  
Of their fair minds, but in no flattering Glass.  
All love to see themselves; the foul will stare  
In Glasses, though they meet with Goblins there.  
But all the little hopping fluttering Sparks,  
You catch with Glasses, as you do the Larks.  
Place a fair Glass directly in the eye  
Of a young Beau, he never can pass by.  
Young Soldier's discipline their Graces there,  
Face to the right, the left, then as you were.  [She combs first o'er the right Shoulder, then o'er the left, then sets her Cravat Strings. 
We pray all daily to this Glass repair.  
FINIS.