THE SIEGE OF BABYLON: As it is Acted at the Duke's Theatre. Written by SAMVEL PORDAGE, of Lincolns-Inn, Esq Author of the Tragedy of Herod and Mariam.  
Non tibi plus placeas, quia multis forté placebis:  
Id specta potius, qualibus ipse places.  Manci. de Quat. Virt. 
Licenced, Nou. 2. 1677. Roger L'Estrange.  
LONDON, Printed for Richard Tonson, at his Shop under Grays-Inn Gate next Grays-Inn-Lane, MDCLXXVIII.   

TO HER Royal Highness THE DUCHESS.  
Madam,  
IT is not without Fear, that I approach your Throne; esteeming it a more difficult task, to write an Epistle Dedicatory, than to make a Play: lest, on the one hand, I should fall into the Crime of Presumption; or on the other, slip into that, of Flattery. Confidence, if not Impudence, seems to be entailed on Poets; and Ambition, or rather greediness, of vain Applause, by which they would mount above others, carries them often, beyond the Limits of all Modesty, and makes them rudely press, into the presence of Greatness, and Majesty. On this Rock, I may now seem to run, and to have left myself no excuse, for daring to set your Great Name before my Poem. But, Madam, 'tis to your Goodness I must fly; and that favourable protection, which you afford those who want it, must shield me from the envenomed Darts, of envious Detractors. They will have Veneration for your Name, and stand in awe, when they shall know you have seen, and approved this Play, that you have taken it into your Protection, and that it is not without your permission, I offer it to your Highness; which I do, with all the Humility I ought to have, and with all the submission, and respect I can express. There is some necessity for me, to gain so powerful a Patroness, considering the smallness of my Merits, and the niceness of this Critical Age, in which the greatest Wits pass not without Censure, nor the most perfect pieces of humane Invention, without being carped at. What would have been currant Coin, in the Ages past, will now be looked on as debased Metal; and that Wit, which is esteemed but mean, and ordinary now, would have been then accounted great, and miraculous. Wit is refined, and Ingenuity made bright, not only by the Industry of Poets, and endeavours of the Learned, but by the example, of the Court, and encouragement of Princes, who diffuse it like Light to all that know them; among whom your Royal Highness, as a Star of the first Magnitude, shines, with the splendour of your Mind, and enlightens the Souls of others. I need not fear to be accused of Flattery, since you are a Theme too high, all we can say, is still below you, and there can be no such Figure as Hyperbole in your description. When I consider all your excellencies, I approach you, with admiration, and am swallowed up in the Sea of your perfections. Your Beauty, your Extraction, your Wit, Ingenuity, and acquired parts; your Goodness, Piety, Wisdom, and Generosity, with all your other Virtues, and Accomplishments; deserve each a particular Panegyric, and are large Themes, on which the greatest Wits, may exercise their Pens. But Madam, these are things too great for my undertakings, and it is now my business only, to crave your acceptance of this Poem, which may serve for a diversion when wearied with more serious Thoughts. I have saved the Persian Princesses from the Cruelty of Roxana, but 'tis you only, Madam, that can protect them, from the greater Tyranny of Critics, such as make it their business to find fault, with what they cannot mend, who turn the greatest sense into Ridicule, and Burlesque even the Virtues, and the Graces themselves. Statira flings herself at the feet of your Royal Highness, and hopes you will give her a favourable Reception, since you have extended your Favour to Mariam, and showed a more than ordinary kindness to that Tragedy, which has hitherto passed under the Name of another, whilst I was out of the Land: but, Madam, since there is so much Glory in it, to have pleased your Highness, and to have given satisfaction to many Persons in the Royal Circle, I cannot forbear to own it, that your Royal Highness may be the more easily induced, to smile on this, which, with myself, I prostrate at your Feet, begging your pardon for the presumption of assuming the Title of MADAM,  
Your Royal Highnesses Most humble, most obedient, And most devouted Servant, Samuel Pordage.   

THE PROLOGUE,  Spoken by Mr. Smith. 
PRologues of old, as learned Authors say,  
Used, to have some Coherence, with the Play,  
Were not so much, for Ornament, as use;  
Like necessary Porches, to a House;  
They, to the Inner Rooms, did introduce.  
But now, such is the custom of the Age,  
A rough hewn satire, enters first, the Stage.  
Who barks, bites, bushes, and at all does hit,  
Pelts Men, and manners, with his wicked wit,  
Grinns at the Court, the Country, and the Citt,  
And sometimes snaps, you Critics, in the Pitt.  
Such is the Rage, that one Poetic Brother,  
Falls foul with, and downright, rails at another,  
And tho, the play, be moving, soft, and sweet,  
And Verses run, on smooth, and even feet,  
And though it does of Love, and Honour treat,  
And shows a body, soft, fair, gay, and neat,  
The Prologue still, has a rough Satyr's face;  
Which does the moving, sweet, soft, thing, disgrace  
What e'er the Play be, Custom does prevail,  
It must be satire, in its Head, and Tail.  
But Gentlemen, our Author bid me say,  
Head have no Satyrs face, before his Play,  
Nor should it have, though it be much in Vogue,  
A swinging Tail, a lashing Epilogue.  
Ladies, to you, he does himself address,  
From you, he would receive, his happiness,  
If your fair hands, shall his endeavours bless,  
He will not fear, the Critics of the Pit,  
Those Cursing, Damning, Mugletons, of Wit..   

The Actors Names.  
Orantes Prince of Scythia— 
Mr. Betterton   
Lysimachus a Prince of Macedon— 
Mr. Medburn   
Eumenes a Prince of Cappadocia— 
Mr. jevone   
Ptolemy Captain of Alexander the great— 
Mr. Crosby   
Perdiccas Captain of Alexander the great— 
Mr. Smith   
Cassander Captain of Alexander the great— 
Mr. Harris   
Araxis Servant to Orontes— 
Mr. Norris   
Statira Widow of Alexander the Great— 
Mrs. Betterton   
Roxana Widow of Alexander the Great— 
Mrs. Lee   
Parisatis Sister to Statira— 
Mrs. Seymour   
Thalestris Queen of the Amazons— 
Mrs. Gwin   
Cleone Confident of Statira— 
Mrs. Gillo   
Hesione Confident of Roxana 
Mrs. Legrand   
Soldiers, Attendants, etc. 
  
The SCENE BABYLON and the Fields adjacent.   

Lately Printed.  

The Tragedies of the last Age Considered and Examined, by the Practice of the Ancients, and by the Common Sense of all Ages, in a Letter to Fleetwood Shepheard Esq By Tho. Rymer of Grays-Inn, Esq Price bound 1 s. 6 d.  
Edgar, or the English Monarch, an Heroic Tragedy, written by Tho. Rymer Esq Price 1 s.   
Both sold by Richard Tonson▪ at Grays-Inn Gate next Grays-Inn-Lane.   

THE SIEGE OF BABYLON.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I. Babylon Besieged.  Enter Lysimachus and Ptolemy with drawn Swords. Ptol. 
NOw, my brave Friend, both Love, and Honour calls,  
Let us together run, to scale these Walls;  
Let's thus for Honour, and for Love contend,  
Till Death, or Conquest, shall our Quarrel end.  
Thus our great Cause, may by the Sword be tried,  
And Fortune now, our Rivalship decide.  Lysi. 
No, Ptolemy, to that, I'll ne'er agree,  
Fortune, shall never judge 'twixt you, and me;  
Blindly, she does her Favours oft bestow,  
Our Happiness, shall from our Merits flow:  
So Parisatis, judgement best shall give,  
Which of us two, shall die, and which shall live.  Pto. 
Lysimachus, that way, does worse appear,  
All we can do, can never merit her,  
She, like the Gods, is mounted far above,  
The reach, of all our merits, or our Love.  
Then, let not her, that cruel judgement give,  
One, to condemn, to make the other live,  
She, of that doom must certainly repent,  
Make Fortune judge, and keep her innocent.  Lysi. 
You cannot place her, in your Thoughts, too high,  
And I fall down to her▪ Divinity,  
She, like the Gods above, can never err,  
All must be just, and good, that comes from her.  Ptol. 
Think not, I poorly prize my life, above,  
Or your high Friendship, or my own just love,  
Yet since, but one of us can her obtain,  
Let fortune judge, which of us shall be slain:  
Condemned by Fortune, I shall die with joy,  
But her Refusal doubly would destroy.  Lysi. 
Refused by her, death will a pleasure grow,  
But flattering Hope, makes Death more cruel show,  
'Twere just for him, whom she refused to die,  Pto. 
That Justice than adds to his misery.  Lysi. 
Whilst Love, does either with some hope inspire,  
Death's cold embrace, unjustly we desire.  Pto. 
If now I die, by yours, or my own hand,  
I die, before I did my Love offend,  
But once refused by her, I guilty grow,  
For her refusal only, makes me so:  
My Death, will then, to every one appear,  
Not the effect of Love, but of despair.  
If she accept me, I can know no Joy,  
Since my good Fortune, must my Love destroy.  Lysi. 
As great as yours, I dare pronounce my Flame,  
Tho yours so▪ unruly seems, and mine so tame,  
The Gods, with greater Love, can none inspire,  
Nor can your Breast, feel a more scorching Fire▪  
Yet Love, shall never make my Sword divide,  
That knot of Friendship, which we two have tied.  Ptol. 
Why should I, in suspense, one moment be,  
When my own hand, holds my own destiny?  
This Sword, can quickly finish, all our strife,  
By cutting off my own, or your much dearer life.  
Empire, our friendship's bounds, could not remove,  
We parted stakes, but can't do so, in Love:  
Two Kings may friendly sit, upon one Throne,  
But in Love's Empire, one must reign alone,  
Since she, whom we adore, we can't divide,  
We with our swords, our quarrel must decide.  
Let this the greatness, of my passion speak,  
When, for my love, I must our friendship break.  Ly. 
No, Ptolemy, this Sword shall ne'er offend  
The man, whom I so long have called my friend;  
And so much honour in thy soul does dwell,  
Thy unresisting friend, thou dar'st not kill.  Ptol. 
Lay by that Name, for in it lies a charm,  
Which does my Soul, of all its rage disarm,  
My blood grows stiff, and cold; that sacred Name,  
Strives to extinguish my unruly flame,  
But that Charm, by a greater I'll remove,  
My Friendship must, and shall give way to Love.  
My life, I for my friend, would sacrifice,  
But for my Love, that Friend I must despise.  
Defend thyself—  Lysi. 
Since Friendship's sacred name, so weak does prove,  
Here wound her Image, whom we both do love,  
That beauteous Image, to us both so dear,  
Will deeply graven in my heart appear;  
Strike home, and to our quarrel put an end,  
Dispatch at once your Rival, and your Friend.  Whilst Ptolemy stands in a fighting posture, with his Sword's point towards the breast of Lysimachus, who spreads open his arms. Enter Orontes and Araxis. Oron. 
Is this a time, for friends to disagree?  
With joy our Soldiers, for th' Assault prepare▪  
But wonder much, where their brave Leaders are.  
Methinks that Love, which your two Souls inspires,  
Should quicken, and add wings, to your desires;  
'Tis just, we first, our Princesses redeem,  
Before we offer, to dispute for them.  
Remember, Sirs, these Walls our Loves enclose,  
Remember, they are Prisoners, to our Foes.  
Embrace, embrace, and let us haste away,  
Our Soldiers, in their arms, do for us stay;  
Each minute now, seems a long age to me,  
Till we have set the fair Statyra free.  Ptol. 
'Tis true, Orontes, to myself I seem,  
Like those who sleeping walk, and talking dream.  
My ●unquiet passions now are grown so strong,  
Against my will, they hurry me along;  
〈◊〉, what sense, nor reason, can't approve,  
And unprovoked would kill the Friend I love;  
'Gainst my own heart, I all my forces bend,  
And e'er I gain my Mistress, lose my Friend;  
Pity me then, when forced by cruel Fate,  
I do those things, which though I do, I hate.  Ly. 
Come, Ptolemy, let's set our Princess free,  
Let us like Friends, in that just Act agree,  
And then the Combat, for which you now sue,  
I'll force my friendship, to require of you.  Ptol. 
I'll yield to that, 'tis but a just delay,  
Orontes, now to danger, lead the way.  Oron. 
What various shapes, does mighty love put on!  
How different, to us, seems his power to be!  
Here dark as night, there brighter than the Sun;  
Here a Calm deep, there a rough raging sea,  
In every breast, he hath a different sway,  
Whilst the whole world, does his great power obey.  Exeunt.  

SCENE II. A Palace within Babylon.  Enter Queen Statira, Parisatis, and Cleone. Sta. 
Ye Gods of Persia, and thou chief, the Sun,  
What crimes have we, or our Forefathers, done,  
That ye thus load, with misery and disgrace,  
The small remains, of great Darius' Race?  
O happy Swains! who innocently free,  
The pains of greatness, at a distance see:  
Ye gaze at us, and happy call our State,  
And oft do envy, what we most do hate.  Par. 
Sister, since nothing can dark Fate withstand,  
For Fate, doth even the Gods themselves command,  
To its decree, they do themselves submit,  
Which shows their Godheads, have less power, than it.  
If then our ruin be decreed, why should  
We mourn for that, which cannot be withstood▪  
But since, Man cannot in Fates black Book read,  
And that we know not, what is fore-decreed,  
Hope, like a glimmering Star, in night, does rise,  
And gives some comfort, in our miseries.  
Our Friends without, may yet successful prove,  
Valour does wonders, when inspired by love.  Stat. 
Ah Parisatis, 'tis not death I fear,  
Honour, than life, to me, is far more dear;  
To you, I may confess, without offence,  
I next to Honour, prize the Scythian Prince,  
Whose noble Acts, my Heart, long since, did move,  
ere I did yield, to Alexander's love.  
For his sake, then, I am obliged to live,  
Since he, from me, does all his joys receive.  
But when, I think, what dangers him surround,  
A thousand fears, my much grieved soul, do wound,  
Such is his love, such his respect, for me,  
I know, he'll either die, or set me free.  Pari. 
That fear is just, which does your soul subdue,  
But have not I the same concern for two?  
Two noble Friends, whose virtues I approve,  
As once in War, so Rivals, now, in Love.  
Your troubles, Sister, less than mine appear,  
You but for one, but I, for two do fear.  Stat. 
Weak are those streams, which in two channels run,  
The deep, and violent, always flow in one.  
You both their virtues, may perhaps approve,  
May both respect, and yet but one may love.  
Reason, in love, we take not for our guide,  
Whilst things are, by magnetic Nature, tried:  
For whilst you equally, their virtues prize,  
Your Soul with one alone, does sympathize.  Pari. 
So great, is their united friendship grown,  
They are no longer counted two, but one.  
One Mind, one Will, to them Heaven seems to give,  
And but one Soul, does in both Bodies live:  
And this one Soul, in both, breeds one desire,  
And burns in one, and the same, amorous fire:  
So I, in loving both, do love but one.  Stat. 
Sister, the love, you speak of, you will find,  
But like a flash of Lightning, in your mind.  
The end, of virtuous love, is to enjoy,  
But yours, unnatural, must that end destroy:  
Though you, love both alike, yet you'd be loath  
We should believe, you would enjoy them both.  Pari. 
But, Sister, if I can enjoy but one,  
The Gods, not I, shall make that choice alone.  
I hold, the equal Balance in my hand,  
Where, both their loves, and virtues, equal stand.  
If then, I should myself, on one bestow,  
I should be most unjust, and partial grow.  Stat. 
Strange is your love, fantastic is their fate,  
For you destroy, that happiness, you create:  
If happy, in your love, they seem to be,  
Your equal mind, destroys their vain felicity.  Enter Perdiccas. Perd. 
The Trumpets, Madam, me to danger call,  
Our valiant Foes, begin to scale the Wall,  
Nothing it seems, their courage can affright,  
Nor the Moats depth, nor the Walls dreadful height.  
This desperate assault, does but declare,  
It is the last Effort, of their despair.  
But, ere I go, their fury to withstand,  
Madam, I'm come, to know what you'll command.  Stat. 
You, Perdiccas, are too imperious grown,  
And as you please, you now command the Throne,  
For though, I was your Royal Master's Wife,  
I must my Empire quit, to save my life.  
You, and Roxana, now do all things sway,  
You will not me, but I must you obey.  Perd. 
Humbly, before your Feet, I prostrate fall,  
I have no power— you my great Queen have all.  
What I possess, to love I sacrifice,  
And live by th' influence, of those beauteous eyes.  
How oft, in vain, do I your pity crave,  
Your mercy beg, as humbly, as your Slave?  
Did I not thus, with reverence you adore,  
I should command, what I so oft implore.  Stat. 
If I am Queen, as sure I ought to be,  
You should obey my will, and set me free.  
I with one word, could all your Foes subdue,  
Were I not by Roxana held, and you.  
For me, and for my liberty, they fight,  
Whilst you detain me, and oppose my Right.  
You urge your Love, but make it show like Hate;  
For what has Love to do with tricks of State?  
You sue to me, yet let Roxana sway,  
Pretend to love, and yet can disobey.  Perd. 
Madam, should I obey, I were undone,  
You quickly would leave me, and Babylon.  
This gentle force, my Love's constrained to choose,  
Lest I should you, fair Queen, for ever loose.  
My life is measured, only by your stay,  
And death approaches, as you go away.  
If with the proud Roxana, I comply,  
It is to shield you, from her cruelty.  Pari. 
To Love, and Duty, badly he pretends,  
Who does his Queen restrain, and fights her Friends.  Stat. 
Indeed our interests, do but badly close,  
When those I call my Friends, he counts his Foes.  Perd. 
Those you call Friends, indeed, I would subdue,  
But fight them not, because they're Friends to you;  
They'd pluck you from my Arms, and with you all  
That I can good, or dear, or happy call.  
I should of Love, but evil Symptoms show,  
Should I submit, and tamely let you go:  
He that would have you, must my Life pursue,  
And by my death alone, must purchase you.  Enter Soldier. Sold. 
Your presence, Sir, Cassander does desire,  
Your Soldiers beaten, from the Walls retire:  
The Enemy hath such bold fury shown,  
The like ●ill now, I think was never known.  
They rear their scaling Ladders, round the Wall,  
Though Shot as thick as hail, upon them fall:  
With Rams, and Slings, the Battlements they beat,  
And force your men, with fire-balls, to retreat.  
Up their tall Ladders, in thick swarms they fly,  
And with their warlike shouts, they rend the sky.  Perd. 
Let them mount up, and let them enter in,  
we've men enough, to beat them forth ag'in.  Sold. 
The Scythian Prince, his Shield over his head,  
The way to Honour, and to danger led:  
And spite of all resistance, that was made,  
He gained the wall, and there alone he stayed.  
There fighting, like wild Boars, with wounds enraged,  
I left Cassander, and that Prince engaged.  Perd. 
Madam, for your commands, I only stay.  Stat. 
I'll not command—  
But, if you will oblige me, as you say,  
Spare those that fall, with in your power, to day.  Perd. 
How much I love, my Actions shall declare,  
When I the Life, of my loved Rival spare.  Exit with the Soldier. Stat. 
Ye Gods above, that generous Life defend,  
Which Love alone, into such danger brings,  
Let not his Fate, on our bad Fate depend,  
Th'illustrious offspring of so many Kings.  
For, if you have decreed, that we shall die,  
Involve not him, in our sad Rains too;  
Grant him that peace, which you to us deny,  
And us alone, with your fierce wrath pursue.  Pari. 
The Gods are just, and justly all things sway,  
Let's then to their just wills, ourselves submit;  
And without murmuring, their wills obey,  
For they best know, what's for poor Mortals fit.  
We our own Peace, and happiness destroy,  
Whilst we with fear, and grief, ourselves annoy.  Stat. 
Your wise, yet vain Philosophy, I hear,  
Yet see, your smothered troubles, in your eye;  
That Heart is senseless, that is void, of Fear,  
When, such a load of ills, does on it lie.  
Let's to the Altars, of our Gods repair,  
And force them, to be kind, with Incense, and with Prayer.  Exeunt.  

SCENE III. The Royal Palace in Babylon.  Enter Roxana, and Hesione. Rox. 
This day, Hesione, I shall happy be,  
If the Just Gods, make good their own Decree.  Hesi. 
The Oracle, I do remember well,  
Which, did long since, this famous Siege foretell,  Roxa. 
Such pleasing words, can never be forgot,  
For, in my memory, they are deeply wrote,  
Thus spoke, th' inspired Priest— 

When Babylon, shall Stormed be,  
By him, whom thou dost Love,  
That Day, auspicious shall to thee,  
Above all others, Prove:  
The Objects, of thy Love, and Hate,  
Shall, from thy Hands, receive their Fate.   

Those Hours, which then, shall smile on thee  
If thou know'st, how to use,  
Thou may'st, for ever, happy be,  
Or joys, for ever loose.  
In thy own Hand, thy own Fate lies,  
If Bad, blame not the Deities.    
Such Favours, may the Gods, again, refuse,  
If I, through Folly, should their Gifts abuse.  
I'll willingly submit, to any Fate,  
When I have satisfied, my Love, and Hate.  Hesi. 
Madam, this Day, you shall have your desire,  
You shall Orontes, and Statira see,  
Below your Feet, waiting their Destiny.  
But whilst, you hold their Fates, in your own Hand,  
You on a nice, and ticklish point do stand,  
You have the power, but how to use it, there  
Lies all the Danger, and deserves your Care.  Roxa. 
The Gods assist the Bold, whilst Cowards be  
The Framers, of their own ill Destiny.  Hesi. 
Your wisdom, Madam, mighty things has done,  
That, won you Alexander's Heart, and Throne.  Roxa. 
But yet, that wisdom never could remove  
Cruel Orontes, from his fixed Love.  Hesi. 
The Gods, at last, your pains will Recompense.  
And put into your Hands, that Cruel Prince.  Roxa. 
We must not leave, all for the Gods to do,  
To Princes, they have given some power too.  
They show the opportunity, and way,  
But we, ourselves, must act, as well as they.  
Whilst Perdiccas, that watchful Dragon's, gone,  
And left my Rival, and his Care alone,  
Pave sent my Guards, to seize her, and when she  
Is in my Power, than I shall happy be.  Enter Statira, Parisatis, and Cleone. Guard. Stat. 
It seems, Roxana, you will reign alone,  
In my great Fathers, and my Husband's Throne.  Roxa. 
At your bad Fate, and at the Gods repine,  
That Throne, indeed was theirs— but now is mine.  Stat. 
Long since, in secret you have me betrayed,  
But now, my Right, you openly invade.  Roxa. 
My Power, will make my Right be understood,  
By that our Husband, made his Title good.  Stat. 
But if your Right, must by success be tried,  
The Gods, as yet, declare not on your side:  
For, our brave Friends, who nobly take our part,  
May yet our Right, with their success assert.  Roxa. 
Let what will happen, you may understand,  
You're Prisoners, and your Fate I now command.  Stat. 
I scorn, Roxana, for my Life, to sue,  
I'd not accept it, as a Gift, from you.  
Since, I'm your Rival, in your Throne, and Love▪  
There is some Reason, you should me remove.  
But, let not my dear Sister's blood, be spilled,  
Her Innocence, involve not with my Guilt.  Pari. 
Till now, my Sister, you were ne'er unkind,  
Think not to fly, and leave me here behind.  
We both will die, if Death be her intent.  Roxa. 
Statira, yet may both your deaths prevent.  
If she'll Orontes, and his Love disown,  
She shall not only live, but share the Throne.  Stat. 
Orontes is all virtue,  
And all you offer, if compared to Him,  
Below, that generous Prince's worth, does seem;  
Than Life, or Crown, he is a greater prize,  
And for his friendship, I do both despise.  Roxa. 
With your own mouth, you have pronounced your fate,  
Go pray— your lives have but a little date.  
Secure them Guard— you in my power are now,  
I have resolved your death, and sworn it too.  Stat. 
You can't, Roxana, fright them with that doom,  
Who, have before, the fear of death o'ercome.  Exeunt Statira, Parisatis, and Guard Enter Cassander wounded, Soldiers with Orontes bound. Cass. 
Madam, your strict commands, I have obeyed:  
Love, more than other interest, can persuade.  
By these, my numerous wounds, and loss of blood,  
My faithful duty, may be understood.  
Can I more proof, of my obedience give,  
Than to permit, my greatest Foe, to live?  Roxa. 
I do, Cassander, this great kindness own,  
Which makes, the greatness, of your passion known.  
Retire, and let your glorious wounds, be dressed,  
This service shall be written, in my breast.  Cass. 
My Prisoner, to your care, I here resign.  Exit Cass Roxa. 
I am his Prisoner, more than he is mine. aside.  
Soldiers retire, in the next Chamber stay. Exeunt Soldiers.  
You look on me, Orontes, as your Foe,  
Yet 'tis my kindness, which does life bestow.  Oron. 
The life you gave me, you may take away,  
That debt to you, I'm ready still to pay.  Roxa. 
I did not give you life, with that intent,  
And scorn, so soon, my kindness to repent.  Oron. 
In giving life, you have no kindness shown,  
But you, and all your kindness, I disown.  Roxa. 
What greater proofs, of kindness, can I show,  
Than still, to keep my heart, entire for you?  
I love— Let me not name, that word again,  
Gods! that a Queen should blush at your disdain.  Oron. 
'Tis that unruly passion, in your breast,  
Has robbed my soul, of all its joy, and rest.  Roxa. 
Can my kind love, disquiet your repose?  Oron. 
You call that love, which more like hatred shows.  Roxa. 
By that alone—  
You may the greatness, of my passion see.  Oron. 
By that, I know, you love yourself, not me  
For, you would never seek, your own delight,  
If your fierce soul, knew how to love aright.  Roxa. 
It is that passion, which for you I have,  
That makes of me, a powerful Queen, a Slave.  
Repentance, is beneath me, I'll go on,  
And end the work, I have so well begun,  
And, if at last, you do my hopes destroy,  
She, whom you love, you never shall enjoy.  Oron. 
Such vicious love, I ever shall refuse.  Roxa. 
Your life, and death, within my power, does lie,  
I'll make you love me, Prince, or you shall die.  Oron. 
In vain, you think t' affright me, with my Fate,  
Death is more welcome, than the thing I hate.  Roxa. 
So much disdain, can be no longer born,  
It has roused up, my anger, and my scorn.  
Orontes, now, the difference shall be seen,  
Betwixt the love, and anger of a Queen.  Enter Guards. 
Guards!—  
Secure this Pris'oner, with your greatest care,  
And on your lives, let none to him repair.  
Load him with chains— Exeunt Guards and Orontes.  
I soft, and gentle means, no more will try,  
Orontes, and Statira both, shall die:  
The Gods, have put them, in my power this day,  
To let them 'scape, would my own cause, betray.  
I'll love no more— His scorn has raised my hate,  
Nor, with my passion, will I more debate:  
Lest foolish love, should my Resolves oppose,  
I'll kill 'em, while the Storm of anger blows.  
Freedom, to me, his death, can give alone,  
And hers, will fix me, steadfast in my Throne:  
From different causes, both shall find one fate,  
Love kills Orontes, and Statira hate.  Exeunt.   

ACT. I.  

The SCENE, The Camp under the Walls of Babylon.  Enter Eumenes and Lysimachus, leading Ptolemy wounded. Lysi. 
GReat, as your passion, you have courage shown,  
But Fortune, has your mighty deeds overthrown,  
And she, into whose hands, you would have laid  
The treasure of your love, has you betrayed.  
Yet I, by virtue, will my love advance,  
And no advantage take, of Arms, or Chance.  Ptol. 
Bright Honour, all your glorious actions sways,  
And Crowns your Brows, with Myrtle, and with Bays.  
Against your life, this day I had design,  
Yet you, with hazard, of your own, saved mine,  
Stopping the progress, of your great success,  
You ran, to save a Rival, in distress.  Lysi. 
If, to a Rival, I did succour lend,  
It was, because, that Rival was my friend:  
But Fortune had, in giving death to you,  
Deprived my love, of all its glory too:  
With what bright lustre, will my true love shine.  
When virtue gives it conquest, over thine?  Ptol. 
That virtue, which shines in your Soul so clear,  
Does, in my breast, raise jealousy, and fear;  
I doubt, the power of its illustrious charms,  
Will ravish Parisatis, from my Arms.  
But tho, I see your Trophies in the Field,  
And know your power, yet I can never yield,  
In Arms, brave Rival, me you are above,  
But yet, I will your equal be, in love:  
In that alone, I will with you contend,  
Though I oppose my Reason, and my Friend.  Lysi. 
I should esteem you less, if you should prove  
More constant in your Friendship, than your love:  
If, in your love, you could inconstant be,  
I should believe, you might be so to me.  
Nor did I show my kindness, on that score,  
My Thoughts were not, so very mean, and poor:  
Love on, and with me, still in love contend,  
If you more Rival grow, I'll grow more Friend.  Ptol, 
Friend! let me die, lest I ungrateful prove,  
I can die for you, but not cease to love.  Eume. 
'Tis time, brave Friends, to end this generous strife,  
And, to your smarting Wounds, some ease to give.  Ptol. 
From hence, Eumenes, I will never go,  
Till brave Orontes Destiny I know.  Eume. 
Tho' he my Quarter, next to his assigned,  
The Great Thalestris, took up all my mind,  
Such wonders, did that brave Virago do,  
As raised love, in my breast, and envy too.  
I saw her lead, her valiant women on,  
And boldly, to the greatest dangers run,  
Not for myself, but much for her afraid,  
I always nigh her fought, to give her aid.  
When I stones falling, on her head, beheld,  
I ran between, and caught them on my Shield:  
I watched the darts, as from the Walls they flew,  
And between them, and Her, myself I threw.  
But she, disdainful, did my kindness shun,  
And more provoked, did more on dangers run,  
Till she, at last received a dangerous blow,  
Which, to the ground, did the brave Queen overthrow.  Lysi. 
But where is now, our gallant Amazon?  Eume. 
Sir, she is, to the General's Quarter gone,  
For she had heard, a murmuring Rumour tell,  
That in th' Assault, the brave Orontes fell.  Enter Thalestris, Araxis, and Guard of Amazons. 
But see, she's here—  Lysi. 
Where is Orontes?—  Thal. 
Araxis best does know.  Arax. 
I know not, whether he now lives, or no,  
I'm yet amazed, to think, what he has done,  
For by himself, he Babylon has won.  
Nothing could force his Courage, to retire,  
Which pressed through Storms of Stones, of Darts, and Fire  
In spite of all, my Master forward went,  
Till he, at last, had gained the Battlement,  
There like some God, he threatened the whole Town,  
And all their Force, and Rage sustained alone,  
For though, his Soldiers did no Courage lack  
They were, by force of Arms, all beaten back.  Lysi. 
If brave Orontes lives, we'll set him free,  Eume. 
If dead, we will revenge his Destiny.  Ptol. 
We the proud Mistress, of the World, will burn,  
And all her lofty Spires, to Ashes turn.  Thal. 
Let us, this Night, for a new storm prepare,  
Fortune, does oftentimes, change sides in War,  
Though now, we have received the worst, in fight,  
Let's try, to'assault them, favoured by the night,  
After success, we may expect the Foe,  
More negligent, and more secure will grow.  Lysi. 
We'll to the General's Tent withdraw, and straight  
In Counsel, what you now propose, debate.  Ex. Lysi. and Ptol. Arax. 
To enter Babylon disguised, I'll try;  
And serve my Master, and his Friends, or die:  
Fortune, assist me, and propitious be,  
And I'll build Altars, to thy Deity.  Exit. Eume. 
Madam, how like the Sea, when calm, you show,  
So soft your aspect, and so smooth, your brow;  
But once, this day, when you grew rough in Arms,  
You seemed to me, like the Wild Seas, in Storms.  
The quiet Sea, does some soft pleasure yield,  
But its great power, in Tempests is beheld,  
His dreadful majesty, than best appears,  
When he shoots up his Waves, to the bright Stars  
Tho' you seem sweet, in your soft smiling Charms,  
You are more noble, in your dreadful Arms.  
'Twas that fierce bravery, which I saw in you,  
That only could, my untamed Heart, subdue  
From gentle Eyes, often proceeds Love's flame,  
But mine, more strange, from their fierce Lightning came.  Thal. 
And so it seems, Since you so boldly dare  
To me, a Amazon, your Love declare:  
But since, my fierceness, did your Love beget,  
I ever, will your Love, with fierceness treat:  
With Anger, Pride, with Fairy, and Disdain,  
And not with Smiles, your Love I'll entertain.  Eume. 
Soft Love, will all your Anger, soon assuage,  
Or, with my Blood, I will appease your Rage.  Thal. 
In Arms, and Wars, we Amazon's delight,  
We are all bred, to labour, and to fight.  
Love, Ease, and Softness, we as evil shun,  
But soon to Battles, and to dangers run.  
If among us, any weak Cowards be,  
We make them Slaves, to serve the valiant free,  
Or banish them, as Bees, drones from their hive.  Eume. 
Ah! that the God of Love, his power would show,  
And with his powerful Arms, your Heart subdue:  
That you might taste, what Joys, in Love abide,  
And know the pain, to be of Love denied.  Thal. 
My women do the Joys of Conquest know,  
No pain like that, of flying from the foe.  
Our joys, and pains, both real are, and true,  
None, those of Love, but in their fancies knew.  
We the Chemera laugh at, more than hate,  
Which your false joys, and punishments create.  Thal. 
Hither, Eumenes, I for Glory came,  
Drawn by the Valiant Alexander's Fame,  
By wars, my Fame, and Knowledge to improve,  
And not to hear, your idle talk of Love.  
Let Love, and Peace, to weaker souls seem good,  
They're things, which can't, by us be understood.  Eume. 
But when, the sweets, of gentle Love, you find,  
You, both to Love, and me, will grow more kind,  
The God of War, o'ercome, by Love's soft Charms,  
Pliant and gentle grew, though fierce in Arms.  Thal. 
Fierce War, with us, does ever make abode,  
Which frights away, that little lazy God,  
To peaceful, and luxurious Courts he flies,  
To fair soft Bosoms, and to wanton eyes:  
The noise of Trumpets, from us drives him far,  
He still delights, in peace, no business has, in War.  Eume. 
But yet, your Women, deal with love, and peace,  
Our Capadocians, help them to increase.  Thal. 
I blush to hear it, though Confess it true,  
Our Women, heretofore, have met with you,  
Nature, not love, did to this Rigour bind,  
They only sought you, to preserve their Kind:  
To what the Law of Nature, does Ordain,  
They have submitted, though with grief, and pain▪  
But I, that evil Custom, so abhor,  
My Subjects I'll Command, to use't no more,  
And e'er I'll stoop, to do a thing so base,  
I'll be the last, of our illustrious Race:  
Since, without men, there can no issue be,  
Our glorious Empire, shall have end in me.  Eume. 
Rather, fair Queen, the Laws, of love, obey,  
They teach a gentler, and more noble way:  
To Compass your Desires, and men subdue,  
At once, to make us Slaves, and Victors too,  
O'ercome us, Madam, with your natural Charms,  
Let us fall, by your eyes, not by your Arms.  
For Woman Man, for Man was Woman made,  
Each was Created, for the others aid:  
Then, whilst you live, without us Men, so long.  
You the Divinity of love, and Nature wrong,  
Lay now aside, at length, of men, your Hate.  
And let, each Woman, choose a loving Mate,  
Your Empire, that way, shall continued be,  
And you, your beauteous self, increased shall see.  Thal. 
Eumenes this is Treason, 'gainst our State.  
Which will not love inspire, but move my hate.  Eume. 
In what I can, Madam, I will obey,  
So I may love, do you prescribe the Way,  Thal. 
If I should now, to let you love, consent,  
It shall be only, for your punishment:  
Love then,— but look, for nothing, but disdain,  
Love without hope, to be beloved again.  Exit cum suis. Eume. 
Her Soul is marble, and she can't be moved,  
She cannot love, nor will she be beloved.  
Her Heart is steel, loves form, it will not take,  
Love there, though sharp, can no impression make.  
But I must love, though I still love in vain,  
Tho without hope, and answered with disdain:  
With Constancy, I will her love pursue,  
Who knows, but Constancy, may her subdue,  
That in her Breast, at last, may love imprint,  
And make more soft, that Heart, which now is flint.  Exit.  

The SCENE A Prison.  Enter Roxana. Roxa. 
I am afraid, the Lightning, of his eyes,  
Will pierce my Breast, and my soft Heart, surprise.  
How hard a thing, it is to break, love's Chain.  
And not to think, that pleasure, which is pain.  
But love, no longer, shall my Soul infest,  
I with revengeful Rage, have armed my Breast.  
Since, with disdain, he did my love deny,  
I will the pleasure have, to make him die.  
This is the Way—  The Scene opens, and discovers Orontes bound in Chains 
Speak now Orontes, ere it be too late,  
Will you have life, with love, or Death, with Hate?  
Your Fate, does now, depend on your own Breath,  
In your own Choice, is either life, or Death.  Oron. 
He were unworthy, of Statiras' love,  
Who would for fear, of Death, unconstant prove.  
As, for her sake, I'd be content to live, Draws a dagger out of her sleev.  
So for her, willingly, I death receive.  Roxa. 
Then Death I bring— Disdainful man: stand fair,  
This, from thy Breast, Statira's Form shall tore.  
Incensed, I will a merciless Tyrant prove,  
And Stab that Heart, will not admit my love.  
I'll laugh, with joy, to see thy life expire,  
And with thy Blood, I'll quench thy amorous fire.  Oron. 
Strike boldly then— play well, the Tyrant's part,  
You'll find, an easy way, to my unguarded Heart.  
Except my Queen, nothing that's here beneath,  
Appears, so welcome, to me, now, as Death:  
For since my Fate, does her I love deny, advances with her Dagger.  
With joy I fall, and with Content, I die.  Roxa. 
Then thus, Orontes, I will end our strife,  
This blow, shall cut my love off, and thy life.  
What trembling's this, has seized my Heart, and Arm?  
There's magic in his Looks, in's Eyes a Charm. aside.  
I find, I cannot my Intents pursue,  
I feel, some kind of foolish pity too.  
I'ave thought on't now— It shall be so—  Oron. 
What now Roxana? Delay tortures me.  
The Death you bring, to me, does pleasant seem,  
'Twill wake me, from a sad, unquiet Dream:  
It will give ease, to my afflicted mind,  
And make me think, in this last Act, you're Kind.  Roxa. 
Nay, Sir, since you, unwilling are to live,  
I will, to punish you, grant a Reprieve.  
You shan't find pleasure, in that Death I bring,  
Death, is not Death, unless it has a sting.  
Some other way, I'll satisfy my hate,  
Your Eyes, shall first behold, my Rival's Fate,  
For since her Life, you, to your own, prefer,  
Before thou diest I'll kill thee, first, in her.  going out Oron. 
Stay, Tyrant stay, be not so inhuman,  
Will you not kill, unless you kill, with pain?  
If by my scorn, I merit your Revenge,  
Act not your hatred, in a way so strange.  
Kill the offender, do not spare his blood,  
But murder not the Innocent, and good.  Roxa. 
If she be good, she fitter is to die.  Oron. 
And does no pity in your Bosom lie?  Roxa. 
Let pity, and good Nature dwell elsewhere.  
I have more strong, and violent Passions there.  Oron. 
Can then no Prayers, your great wrath, assuage?  Roxa. 
No more, than they can still, the Ocean's Rage▪  
The great Concern, you for my Rival show,  
Does but the more provoke, to speed the blow.  Oron. 
To save her life, what is't I would not do?  
Yet can't perform, what is required by you.  
I can't put out, loves great, and sacred fire,  
The Gods can only quench, what they inspire.  
Some other way propose—  Roxa. 
In Vain, Orontes, now, to me you sue,  
For I have learned, how to deny, by you.  
You say, I things impossible require,  
And yet, the same, you now of me desire.  
If to save her, you can't your love subdue,  
Hate's not less strong in me, than love in you.  
That says, you must, to this Decree submit,  
To see Statira slain, or her for ever quit,  Oron. 
The choice is hard, Roxana— Let her live  
And all thy Injuries, I will forgive.  
My Hate of thee, I'll from my Breast remove,  
And that is more, than half the way, to love.  Roxa. 
To hear him thus entreat, I dare not stay,  
My passion will, at last, itself betray. aside  
I will no longer trifle thus, with you,  
You know my will, and what you have to do.  
Think on't— I but a little Time will give,  
To make your choice, if she shall die, or live.  Exit Oron. 
As men, in storms, a sinking Bark, to free,  
Are forced to fling their wealth, into the Sea.  
To save Statira's life, I now must quit,  
My constant love, and the rich joys of it.  
But Earth, as soon, may from its Centre move▪  
As I can force myself, to leave my love.  
Nor can I let her die— no, no, in vain  
Roxana thinks, to keep me with this Chain,  
No cruel Queen, from all thy Tyranny,  
And from these Chains, Death soon shall set me free.  The scene Closes   

ACT. III.  

The SCENE, Babylon.  Enter Cassander and Peredicas meeting him with his Guard. Perd. 
WHat sadness is't, Cassander, moves you now?  
It ill becomes, the Lauress on your brow▪  
This Day, I did believe, that I should see  
You full of smiles, after our Victory.  Cass. 
If I am sad, after our great success,  
Me thinks, your Looks, Sir, do no Calm express:  
If dark, and shady Clouds, hang in my Eyes,  
I see in yours, a storm begin to rise.  Perd. 
Whilst I to wounds, and Death, myself expose,  
Killing my Friends, because Roxana's foes,  
She gets my ' adored Statira▪ int' her power,  
And keeps her prisoner, in the Palace Tower:  
But I am going, thence to set her free,  
And with my sword, to give her Liberty.  Cass. 
Whilst I, for her, to wounds, and dangers go,  
And, 'gainst my Interest, save my greatest foe,  
Whilst her commands, I carefully obey,  
And yield this mighty Empire, to her sway,  
She meets my Love, with a disdainful frown,  
And him, who scorns her, with her Love, does Crown,  Perd. 
Our Love, and Interest, should us two conjoin  
It is one Man, disturbs your peace, and mine:  
'Tis fit Orontes then should die, that he  
May never more disquiet you, or me.  Cass. 
Yes he shall die, by all the Gods I vow,  
This Arm shall, shortly, give the fatal blow.  Perd. 
By all the Gods, if in my power it lies,  
When I first see him, by this Arm he dies:  
And when we have this obstacle removed,  
We shall be kindlier used, and more beloved.  Cass. 
Their furious Love, will cool, and we shall find  
Our Queens, who now disdain us, grow more kind.  Exeunt severally.  

The SCENE, The Palace Royal in Babylon.  Enter Roxana, and Hesione. Rox. 
Who are in love, at all times can't be wise,  
Passion, o'ercomes our weaker policies.  
Who in safe peace, and undisturbed would reign,  
Should have no passions, yet oft passions feign.  
Our Reason, and our Judgement they infest,  
And open lay, the secrets of our Breast.  Hesi. 
Madam, of all the Passions, Love's most bold,  
And still is found, most hard to be controlled.  Rox. 
Just now disturbed, I from Orentes came,  
Full of Revenge, of Anger, Love and Shame,  
Being o'repowred, by their impetuous tide,  
I could not my resistless Passions hide.  
But at Cassander, did the Venom throw,  
Of my Disdain; and Hare too plain did show.  Hesi. 
I'ave wondered, Madam, with what skill, and Art,  
You have kept under, his aspiring heart:  
He cannot boast, that he in Love does thrive,  
And yet, you keep his little hopes alive.  Rox. 
I know not, which has in my Heart, most share,  
Love, or Ambition: both are mighty there,  
I cannot be content, with one alone,  
I'd have my Love, and not forgo the Throne.  
For Love's sake, Perdiccas my Friend I style,  
Ambition makes me on Cassander smile,  
Tho I intent, at last, both to beguile.  
What noise is that?— Clashing of swords within.  Enter Guard. Sold. 
Perdiccas, Madam, on your Guard does fall, I fear he'll force, Statira from us all.  Rox. 
Go, stop him wretch— make haste— stop him I say,  
First die, and with your Bodies, block his way. Exeunt Guard  
This amorous fool, will spoil my great design.  Exeunt Enter Perdiccas fighting with the Guard. Perd. 
I'll force my way, though you an Army were.  Enter Roxana and Hesione. Roxana snatches a sword from on of the Guard, and stops Perdiccas. Rox. 
How Perdiccas! Come further if you dare.  
Over this Breast, you first must make your way.  
Is this the great Respect you to me pay?  Perd. 
Madam, you may account this Action rude,  
'Tis better yet, than your Ingratitude:  
Whilst Blood, and Life, I venture for your sake,  
From me, what is more dear, than Life, you take.  Rox. 
You are too Rash— It was your good I sought,  
And I will soon, make you confess your fault.  
Command your Guard, off—  Perd. 
Go wait without—  Rox. 
Retire you, to your charge. To her Guard flings away the sword.  
Now, Perdiccas, I will my mind disclose.  
You, from my Rival, long have sought in vain,  
For Love's deep wound, some Rem'edy to obtain:  
To a deaf Statue, you do still complain.  
You to a senseless Rock, your Love make known▪  
And court a Mistress, with a heart of stone.  
I for your Rival, the like pains endure,  
Which He, you know, has still denied to cure.  
He scorns my Love, and does my sickness mock,  
And wears an Heart, far harder, than a Rock.  
All gentle ways, we too, too long, have tried,  
Have humbly sought, but still have been denied  
No longer now, let us our pains endure,  
A desperate Ill, must have a desperate Cure.  Perd. 
'Tis true, all gentle means, I long have used  
My hopes, and patience, I have found abused,  
My tortured heart, for pain can hardly live,  
And to my wounded soul, none ease can give:  
But yet if prayers, won't make my Goddess kind,  
I know not which way, you can force the mind.  Rox. 
The stubborn mind, like grown Oaks, will not bend,  
You cannot bow them, but with force they rend.  
So our stiff Rivals, won't with us comply,  
ere they will bow, and yield, they'll break, and die.  
Death they despise: I know our loves to shun,  
If Death be offered, both to Death will run.  Perd. 
If the stiff mind, can no way forced be,  
What is it, you'd propose, for Remedy?  Rox. 
Art must be used, and I have found a way,  
To make them both submit, and us obey.  
They both, above themselves, each other Love,  
And thorough one, we must the other move.  
Though either Death would choose, ere they'd comply,  
They'll yield, before they'll see each other die.  
They'll tender grow, their Passions will be moved,  
To see Death offered, to the thing beloved:  
Then at your feet, you will Statira see,  
And I Orontes, supplicating me.  Perd. 
So great's the pain of Love, which I endure,  
I any means would try, to ' obtain a Cure:  
We cut our Flesh, and put ourselves to pain,  
A Freedom, from some sharp Disease, to gain,  
So I must stab, and wound my bleeding Heart,  
Whilst I procure, Statira's pain and smart.  Rox. 
That our Design, may to our with succeed,  
Threaten with Death, but what you do, take heed.  
For if your Life, must with Statira's end,  
Upon Orontes Life, mine does depend.  Perd. 
Madam, I to your wisdom, and your Care  
Shall leave the management, of this Affair.  
I shall observe, all that you shall command,  
And take my blessing, from your bounteous hand.  
I with this subtle Queen, seem to comply, Aside.  
But I have vowed, my Rival soon shall die.  
With skilful cunning, she now plays her part,  
But I will countermine her Art, with Art.  Exit Rox. 
Thus Raging Beasts, we do with 'Gins, ensnare,  
And subtle slights, for mighty force prepare:  
The Elephant, and Horse, obey our will,  
And the fierce Lion's tamed, by Art, and skill.  
If what I now design does take, 'tis well,  
If not (who can the event of things foretell?)  
I for my safety, will so well provide,  
That what seems jest, in earnest shall be tried.  
The Rival of my Love, and Crown, shall die,  
My ' Ambition, and Revenge to satisfy:  
But cunning Perdiccas, deceived must be,  
With words, which do not with my Thoughts agree▪  
The Rash Cassander, I must too beguile,  
And six him, with the favour of a smile.  
Hesione, send for Cassander straight,  
And whilst, with you, he does my leisure wait,  
Charm him with hopes, and my late frowns excuse,  
'Tis no great sin, fond Lovers to abuse.  Exeunt  

The SCENE, A Tower of the Palace.  Enter Statira and Parisatis. Stat. 
Death, which each moment, we expect to see,  
Is far less dreadful, than this news to me;  
Whilst my Orontes was in safety, I  
With less Concern, and more Content could die.  
But now, my soul oppressed, with busy ear,  
Is ruffled, and for Him, disturbed with fear.  Pari. 
But Sister, why are you disturbed so much  
You know, Roxana's Love for him, is such,  
You may assure yourself, and well believe,  
He no ill treatment, will from her receive.  
What is it then, should so uncalm your mind?  
Unless you're jealous she should be too kind:  
But his great love, and constancy you know,  
Not all her Charms, and Arts, can overthrow.  
This great attempt, and valiant Act does prove,  
That he still wears, a true, and constant Love.  Stat. 
That constancy, you think should me secure  
From Fear, does cause the Fear, I now endure,  
For what will not, that wicked Woman dare,  
To do, when Love is turned into Dispair?  
Whilst she has hopes, her Love will make her kind,  
When they are lost, she'll show her cruel mind:  
robbed of her Whelps, a Tygress will not be  
So Cruel, and so full of Rage, as she.  
Her Love's no pure, unmixed, and gentle Fire,  
But is an impure Flame, an hot, untamed Desire.  Pari. 
Are you content, he should inconstant prove,  
To shun the Fate which threatens, his true Love?  Stat. 
Should I consent, should I request it too,  
That is a thing, I know, he could not do.  Pari. 
In things that no ways remedied can be,  
We must submit, to hard Necessity:  
By Death, our Troubles will to peace be changed,  
And though we die, we shan't die unrevenged.  
We have two Friends, who with their armed powers,  
Will soon revenge Orontes Death, and Ours.  Enter Cleone. Cleo. 
The Captain of Roxana's Guard, does wait  
Without, and asks to be admitted straight:  
His business Madam, I can no ways learn,  
But's looks betray, some great, and sad concern.  Stat. 
Go Cleone, and bring him in— Exit Cleone  
The unexpected news of Death, might fright,  
But expectation, now, does make it light:  
They who for it, beforehand do prepare,  
When it approaches, don't like other's fear.  Enter Captain with the Guard and Cleone Capt. 
By me the Queen, does let you understand,  
(Madam, I must obey her strict command)  
It is her pleasure, that you straight must die.  Stat 
'Tis what I expected, from her Cruelty,  
She told me herself, what now I hear from you,  
I then believed her Threats she would pursue,  
Therefore, to die, I have myself prepared,  
But has the Tyrant, Sir, my sister spared?  Capt. 
I know not, Madam, what sh' intends to do,  
My Orders, now, concern not her, but you.  Pari. 
In vain, she spares my Life, if she must die,  
Nature, and Friendship, us together tie,  
And they have knit a knot, can't be untied,  
Nor shall her Tyranny, us two divide,  
For the kind Gods, to us, a power do give,  
That, at our pleasure, we may cease to live.  Stat. 
Sister, you ought to Death, no more to run▪  
Than you for fear, should its approaches shun:  
On the God's wills, with patience, you, must wait,  
And neither, run to seek, nor shun your Fate.  
When I am dead, I'll hover in the Air,  
And there, I will unseen, of you take Care.  
Adieu dear sister— Embrace  
— I'm assured my Friend  
Will both Revenge me, and your Life defend.  Pari, 
Cruel Roxana! thus to make us part,  
Is from my Breast, to tore my living Heart.  
Adieu dear sister— Embrace  
— Tho w' are parted thus  
Death shall again, restore our Joys to us:  
You, but few moments, shall before me go,  
ere I'll o'ertake you, in the shades below.  Stat. 
To what place is it, I must go to die?  Capt. 
'Tis to Orontes Prison.—  Stat. 
What! Will Roxana be so good, to me▪  
Will she, once more, let me Orontes see?  
For this great kindness, I'll her wrongs forgive,  
Tho after that, I but one moment live.  Capt. 
If kindness she designs, I do not know,  
But, Madam, thither 'tis, that you must go.  Stat. 
Let's go then, Death itself seems pleasant, there,  
This unexpected Joy, has banished fear.  Exeunt Capt. Stat. and Cleone with Guards Pari. 
How fast, the Dream, of Greatness, slides away!  
How soon is worldly Pomp, and Glory lost.  
Fortune, with Princes, still delights to play,  
And in their Ruins, does her great power boast.  
The great, stand high, on slippery Rocks, of Ice▪  
They cannot move, but they must move, in Fear,  
Like seeming stars, that shoot down, from the Skies.  
They tumble headlong, from their lofty Sphere.  
Happy are they, who in poor Cabins dwell,  
And there content, rest on their humble Beds,  
Great Joys, nor Griefs, enter their homely Cell,  
Nor Cares, Distrusts, nor Fears, disturb their Heads:  
Their pleasures small, but natural, and true:  
Happy! if their own happiness they knew.  Exit  

The SCENE, The Prison of Orontes, He is discovered lying bound as before.  Oron. 
The Gods are deaf, to them I cry, in vain▪  
Unmoved, they see, and pity not our pain:  
But since, for all our ills, one Cure they gave,  
Why should we ask, what we already have?  
〈◊〉, to all Troubles, gives a gentle end,  
〈…〉 the Worlds, and Nature's faults, amend.  
The way to Life's but one, not easily found,  
To Death, the ways are plain, and do abound,  
The Gods, put nothing, in our power more sure,  
To show, it was, for humane ills the Cure.  
To thee, blessed Cure, I now resolve to fly,  
The last, but most assured, Remedy.  Enter Statira and Cleone. Stat. 
Ah Prince! what barbarous Heart, has bound those hands?  
And fettered them, with such unworthy Bands?  
Those hands, which have such glorious Actions done,  
Which have so many Laurels nobly, won?  
Those hands, which were by Heaven designed, to bea●  
A Sceptre, and not slavish Chains, to wear.  
Can Love do this? Can Love, in fetters bind?  
Can Love, thus cruel be? and thus unkind?  Oron. 
Since for your sake, I do these fetters ware,  
Than Crowns, or Laurels, they more glorious are:  
They're full of glory, and of pleasure too,  
Crowns I prize less, than suffering for you.  
〈◊〉 noble Bond, which binds my Heart, I prize,  
And though your Slave, Roxana's Chains, despise.  Stat. 
Those Chains, Orontes, are more justly mine.  
Roxana meant them, for my hands, not thine:  
She could no other way, with all her Art,  
〈…〉 me, subdue your Heart  
She knew, that I could, my own sufferings, bear,  
And understood, that yours, touched me more near  
This visit then, not from her kindness springs,  
Her Cruelty, now, us together brings,  
That by your sufferings, I might Torment find,  
And by my Torment, she might move your mind.  Oron. 
These sufferings, Madam, I should count but light,  
Did they not keep me from your beauteous sight,  
Whilst I enjoy, that happiness, I find  
No Grief, can touch, the quiet of my Mind,  
Your sight, my Sorrows and my Griefs, destroys,  
And hides all other Passions, in my Joys:  
So the admired Elixir does enfold,  
Such Virtue, which base Metals turns, to Gold  Enter Perdiccas, Roxana, Hesione, with 〈…〉 four Blacks with Crooked Scymiters by their 〈◊〉, and strangling Cords in their hands. Roxa. 
Too long, too long, Statira, you have lived.  
And me, of all my peaceful Joys, deprived.  
My foolish pity, has my Torment been,  
But now, no more, against myself, I'll sin.  
My Actions past, I'll not excuse to you,  
Nor Reasons give, for what I, now, shall do,  
It is by Power, that Gods, and Kings do Reign,  
And by my power, I'll, now, my will obtain.  
To these extremes, that Man, has made me fly, Pointing to Orontes  
'Tis he, has urged me, thus to make you dy.  
For I have vowed, you shall no longer live, Pointing 〈…〉  
From those black hands, you shall your Death, receive.  
Unless you will Orontes, now resign,  
And what is more, persuade him to be mine▪  Perd. 
And, I, Orontes, must to you declare,  
That I have sworn, your Life, 〈◊〉 not spare▪  
If you will not Statira quit to me,  
I now am Master of your Destiny,  Stat. 
I do not doubt, Roxana, but you will,  
What you've designed, with 〈◊〉, fulfil.  
For your black Crimes, to all the World proclaim  
You have no sense of Honour, or of shame  
But end, what you've begun— for know that I  
Your Pity scorn, and Cruelty defy.  
In vain, you think, to make me quit, for fear,  
What is, than Life, a thousand times more dear.  
To threaten me, with Death, in vain you try,  
'Tis more to quit Orontes, than to die.  Oron. 
This base Tyrannic way, you may pursue, To Perdiccas  
Who ne'er yet Honour, or true Valour knew,  
By them alone, you should advance your suit,  
For her, with blood, and services dispute.  
But, like a Robber, you have seized your prey,  
Thou more safe, yet more ignoble way.  
In thee, what mark, of Valour can be found,  
Who thus dost treat a Prince, who, like a Slave, is bound.  Perd. 
Thy Life, Orontes, now, at stake, does lie,  
'Tis in her choice, if you shall live, or die. Pointing to Statira  
By thy advice, or of her own accord,  
Let her resolve—  
If she, Orontes, does thy Life esteem,  
She soon, may thee, from Death, and Bonds, redeem.  Roxa. 
And if Orontes, does Statira love,  
That Death, which threatens her, He may remove.  
Determine straight, if Life, to her you'll give,  
Few are the moments else, she has to live.  Oron. 
Fair Queen, what, is it, you resolve to do?  To Statira Stat. 
What's just: I have resolved, to die for you.  Oron. 
Your Life, fair Queen, is sacred, and divine,  
More worth, than are a thousand, such as mine:  
It is unjust, that you should die, for me,  
My Death, perhaps, may end your misery.  Stat. 
You are unjust, if you my Death lament,  
Or seek to hinder, this my last content.  
For this, Orontes, is the only way,  
I'ave left, my mighty debt, to you to pay.  
Your Life, for me, you often did expose,  
From me, your trouble, and your Danger grows,  
You've made your Love, and Valour nobly known,  
Which I till now, ne'er had the power, to own.  
But now, Orontes, I some proofs will give,  
Since for your sake, I will no longer live.  
That my Affection, to that height is grown,  
It can't, by fear of Death, be overthrown:  
My Death, dear Prince, shall seal, my Love to you,  
And witness for me, that my Love was true.  Oron. 
What happiness is this, you give to me!  
Nothing can add, to my Felicity,  
Now you, for me, have so great kindness shown,  
And, what I ne'er deserved, your Love made known:  
But, Madam, I request, and humbly sue,  
That you will live, and let me die, for you.  Stat. 
Alas! in Life, in Liberty, or a Throne,  
What pleasure can there be, when you are gone?  
All our Felicities below, we find,  
Are currant made, and measured by the mind:  
From me, all joys, all pleasures, soon will fly,  
And torments seize me, when my Prince shall die  
I'd have you live, Orontes— but live mine,  
You to Roxana, I can ne'er resign.  
My Life, I can resign, and Empire too,  
Those I can give her, but not give her you.  Oron. 
No, Madam, no, I here my promise give,  
I will not, for the proud Roxana, live:  
A thousand Deaths, I for your sake prefer,  
To Life, and th' Empire of the World, with her.  
Live then fair Queen— though from you I depart,  
My Image, still shall live, within your Heart:  
And, Perdiccas, since you to Love pretend, To Perd  
Her, from Roxana's Cruelties, defend:  
Keep her Life safe— I make it my last prayer,  
My fair Queen's safety, now is all my Care.  
Assure, me, that she shall, in safety be,  
And I'll forgive, what e'er thou dost to me.  Stat. 
In Perdicas' power, that does not lie,  
For if you live not, I resolve to die.  
And if I am not, by Roxana, slain,  
By my own hand, that Freedom, I'll obtain.  Perd. 
Ah! Madam, do you thus resolve, at last?  
Will you repay thus, all my kindness past?  
I for your sake, have spared my greatest foe,  
Shall my Indulgence, be rewarded so?  Stat. 
Yes, Sir, this firm Resolve, which now I make,  
Not all your threatenings, shall have power to shake.  
There is no other way, to separate  
Us two, but by my Death, for which I wait,  Perd. 
No 'tis by his— And by the Heavens, I vow,  
Not all the world shall save him from it now.  
die— die Barbarian— with thy Blood repay, Draws his sword to run Oront, thorough  
That Peace, which thou from me hast ta'en away  Roxa. 
Hold Perdiccas— if you Orontes hurt,  
I'll strike this Javelin through Statira's Heart,  Roxana snatches a javelin from one of her Guard, and presents it to Statira 's Breast. Oron. 
Ah Perdiccas! run— save the Queen—  
From fierce Roxana's power, set her free,  
And then you, safely, may give Death to me.  Seat. 
Here, here, Roxana, plunge thy cruel Spear: shows her Breast.  
The child of great Dartus, cannot fear.  
Strike through this Heart— strike boldly, do not spare,  
And pierce his Image, who disdains thee, there.  Perdiccas casts himself before Roxana 's javelen, and Roxana places herself between him and Orontes. Roxa. 
Ingrateful as thou art, thou shalt not die To Oront.  
Thy Life is safe enough, whilst I am by;  
For with my own, will thy Life defend,  
And though thou hatest me, show myself thy Friend.  Oron. 
Since to Statira, you've such malice shown,  
You are to me most black, and odious grown:  
Even Perdiccas, I love much more, than thee,  
And pardon, all his cruelties, to me,  
Because his care, and tenderness I'ave seen,  
In snatching, from thy murderous hand, my Queen,  
When you, with so much wrath, and Rudeness, pressed,  
That dreadful Javelin. 'gainst her tender Breast.  Perd. 
For you fair Queen, I all my Blood, will spend, To Stat.  
Your precious Life, I'll with my own defend:  
Put I entreat you. to return with me,  
T' avoid Roxana's further cruelty.  Stat. 
I pardon all, what she to me did do,  
To me, she was less cruel far, than you,  
But one Death she had given, and Eased my pain,  
You many Deaths, had you Orontes slain.  Perd. 
Madam, yourself did first Orontes slay,  
When you took from me, all my Hopes away:  
A Rival, in Despair, you should not blame.  Stat. 
Despair should quench, and not increase Love's flame.  Perd. 
We must not here dispute— Madam let's go,  
I will secure you, from this Cruel Foe.  Stat. 
I Sir your prisoner am, and know it well  
Pray'ers are Commands, with those who can Compel.  
Orontes Live, and I will live, for you, To Oront.  
And, if you're forced to die, I will die too.  Oron. 
Live still, fair Queen, my Heart, to you I give,  
I will be yours, whether I die, or live.  Roxa. 
Have you forgot, to what we did agree? To Perd. going off.  
Remember Sir, you first broke Faith, with me,  
Lost your Respect, and now not only jar,  
But have denounced against me, open War.  
Tyrant, thou wouldst have slain, what I above  
Mankind, the World, or Life, or Empire, love.  
Assure thyself, I won't my Rival spare,  
I'll seek her, in thine Arms, and Kill her there.  
Perdiccas, I'll do't— 'tis not thy Art, or power,  
Shall thee, or her, from my Revenge secure.  Perd. 
Madam, the Gods protect the Innocent.  Exeunt Perd. Stat. Cleone, with their Guards. Roxa. 
Whilst I have power, declare for me they must,  
Or I will fling, their Temples in the Dust,  
O'erthrow their Altars, all their Flammins slay,  
And take from them, their Deities away.  
Tell me no more of Gods, my pow'er shall be  
My greatest, and my only Deity.  
'Tis that th'whole World adores— 'Tis power alone,  
Which must maintain me, in my Husband's Throne.  
Guards,— Keep this prisoner safe— but let him be To her Guards.  
From those base, and unworthy Chains, set free.  
What power is this, which does my Heart subdue, The Guards bow.  
That would at once oblige, and punish too?  Exit with Guard and Blacks. Oron. 
My Life depends, yet on a slender thread,  
For whilst Statira lives, I must live too,  
With faint, and empty hopes, I still am fed,  
And wait to see, what the just Gods will do.  
But if my fair Queen dies, from hence I'll go,  
To seek her in the blessed shades, below:  
For, Loves strong bonds, so fast our Souls have tied,  
That Fate itself, cannot us two, divide.  Goes in, the Scene Closes.   

The Fourth ACT.  

The SCENE, The Camp under the Walls of Babylon.  Enter Lysimachus, Ptolemy, Eumenes, and Thalestris. Ptol. 
NOw, generous Rival, and my noble Friend,  
My Love, no more, on Fortune, shall depend;  
She has declared, already, on your side,  
By Virtue only, shall our Cause, be tried:  
My Love for Parisatis, I'll pursue,  
But then, I'll strive, to Merit her, like you.  Lysi. 
There's nothing, Ptolemy, I esteem above  
Your glorious Friendship, but my greater Love:  
In that alone, I must with you Contend,  
And strive to Conquer, and subdue, my Friend.  Ptol. 
Whilst we thus strive, each other to subdue,  
At once continuing Friends, and Rivals too,  
Since Friendship losses shares, and parts all gains,  
One does not loose, what th'other Friend obtains.  Lysi. 
We have, to storm the Town, this Night, agreed,  
Now let us show, our Diligence and Care,  
And our whole force, for this assault, prepare.  Ptol. 
We need not doubt, all power to us must yield,  
When Love, and Honour, lead us to the Field.  Eume. 
Madam, if in th'assault, my Death I find,  
May not a generous pity, move your Mind?  
It with one Tear, you should my Fall lament,  
'Twould ease my Grief, and I should die Content.  Thal. 
If you should fall, whilst Glory you pursue,  
I should not pity, but should envy you.  
Some great, and brave attempt, may Passion move,  
Fortune▪ and Noble Valour I can love.  Eume. 
I will to Dangers, as to Conquest run,  
And do such Things, the like were never done.  
I wish, the Gods, new dangers would Create,  
And not give Conquest, at too cheap a rate.  
Where Blood, and horror reigns, I will be there,  
And on ten Thousand Swords, rush without fear.  
If acts of Valour, your great Mind can move,  
You, e'er to morrow, shall Eumenes love.  Thal. 
If feeble Love, your Courage shall inspire,  
You shall, in me, Honour's great force admire.  
I fear Eumenes, you will blush, for shame,  
When you do less for Love, than I for Fame.  Enter Captain with a Letter. Capt. 
Some of my Soldiers, Sir, being nigh the Wall,  
Perceived an Arrow, at their Feet, to fall;  
Taking it up, to shoot it back, they spied  
This Letter, fast about the Arrow tied;  
To me they brought it, and I hit her flew,  
Perceiving it, directed, Sir, to you.  Delivers the Letter to Lysimachus, who reads it to himself. Lysi. 
Captain, I give you thanks, for your great care,  
Let all your men, for the Assault prepare,  
Let them be ready, and in Arms attend,  
ere night, I will, to you, my orders send. Exit Capt.  
My Friends, this Letter, from Araxis came,  
He is, it seems, got into Babylon.  
See what he writes— reads a Letter.  
I am got into Babylon undiscovered, and by the means of a Captain of Cassander's, a Friend of mine; will this Night make you Masters of the Town: He hath lately been disgusted by him, and I have made him absolutely ours: He has this Night the Command of Semiramis' Gate. Stir not till you see a Fire on the old Tower of Ninus, at what time you shall be received in at that Gate, without opposition. Observe the sign.  
Araxis.  
The Gods, this moment, are to us grown kind,  
And favour, what before we had designed.  Ptol. 
'Tis our just Cause, does them to us incline.  Lysi. 
Come Ptolemy, let's watch, the happy sign.  
This night, I hope, we shall our Princess see,  
And her, from Danger, and from Prison free.  Thal. 
Our Danger, now, Eumenes, will be small.  Eume. 
I wish, for blessed occasions, now, to show,  
How much I dare attempt, to merit you.  
Since fighting only's pleasing to your Eye,  
You should both see me fight, and fighting die.  Exeunt.  

The Scene. The Palace Royal.  Enter Cassander, Roxana, Hesione. Roxa. 
Can you pretend to Love, yet fear to do  
The thing, your Mistress does require of you?  Cass. 
I do, with pleasure, your commands obey,  
When reason, does o'er your fierce passions sway.  
But, what you now require—  
Will the bright lustre, of your Virtue stain.  Roxa. 
I find, your passion for me, is but small,  
Love without Limits, or love not at all;  
Were your Love great, your Reason would submit,  
And you would think, that just, which I thought fit.  
If you loved as you ought, and I were she,  
Your Love would have no bounds, no shores but me.  Cass. 
My Love, no other Bound, than you does know,  
I have no will, but what from yours does flow,  
But if our Hearts, and Wills, but one are found,  
Yet honour, is to both, the equal Bound,  
How do I then, your will, and pleasure shun,  
When I do all, in Honour, may be done?  Roxa. 
That empty Name, Cassander, you may prize,  
Since I am less, than shadows in your Eyes,  
But on their Deaths, whom you so well defend,  
My life, my peace, my happiness depend.  
'Tis by their Deaths, and by their Death's alone,  
I must preserve my life, and fix my Throne.  
Do you in Honour, my desires refuse,  
Whilst I through it, my life, and Empire lose.  Cass. 
Ah! Madam, that which makes you thus severe,  
Is rather the effect of Hate, than fear.  
You hate Statira, and would her remove,  
Because she is a Rival, in your love:  
She dead, your dying hopes, would then revive,  
But that destroys my hopes, which makes yours thrive.  
Should I do all you ask, I soon shall see,  
Orontes have, what should be given to me.  Roxa. 
'Tis true, Orontes once my heart possessed,  
But hatred, now has driven him from my Breast.  
Of late, Cassander, I your Image find,  
Making too deep impressions, on my mind,  
Your constant Love, and Services, I weigh,  
And will, at last, my obligations pay.  
This last effect then of your Duty show,  
And for Reward, I'll give myself to you:  
When you, for me, have this great Service done,  
Take then your Mistress, and with her a Throne.  Cass. 
There's nothing in this World, like you I prize.  
Love ranks you equal with the Deities:  
The great Roxana's power, who can withstand?  
Mortals dispute not, what the God's command.  
I do submit, and will your Will obey,  
And soon will snatch your Rival's Life away.  
When your bright God, sleeps in the Western Wave,  
And will not look on those, he cannot save:  
When horrid Night, arises from the deep,  
And o'er the World, deep Silence shedds, and sleep,  
Then I, about this dreadful work, will haste,  
And those you doom to die, shall sleep their last.  Roxa. 
Go my Cassander, it is you alone  
Must fix Roxana, on the Persian Throne:  
No bold attempt, from danger, can be free,  
'Tis still well done, if it Successful be:  
What you intent, you by surprise must do;  
But, I shall leave the Management to you.  
Let not in vain, the precious Minute's haste,  
Dispatch, that you, a Lover's Bliss may taste,  
Think on our Joys, and our Felicity,  
The Prize, a Crown, and what is greater, Me.  Exit with Hesione. Cass. 
It must be done, such is Roxana's Hate,  
Her Rival's Death, can only it abate:  
And such is my great Passion, I must be  
The Instrument, of all her Cruelty.  
I see the Danger, which I cannot shun,  
And to the Precipice, run headlong on:  
Great is the Prize, Roxana, and a Throne.  Enter a Black Mute. 
To day, this Mute, was giv'en me, by a Friend.  
Oxas come near— I will to you impart,  
The most important secrets of my heart.  
I do repose in you, no Common trust,  
You can be secret, but can you be just? Black bows.  
Can you obey all that I shall Command? Bows again.  
And do what e'er I bid?— you understand? Black bows.  
Without Remorse, can you obey my Will? Bows again.  
Can you unmoved, the Blood of Women spill?  
Thou instantly two Princesses must Kill. Black starts.  
Ha! does the name of Princess, make you start?  
Hast thou a tender place about thy heart?  The Black bows, and puts his hand to his Sword, making signs it shall be done. 
'tis well— anon I will Instruct you more.  Exeunt.  

The SCENE, The Palace of Perdiccas within Babylon.  Enter Perdiccas, Statira, Cleone. Perd. 
Madam you're safe, and now many banish fear,  
Whilst I give Orders, to secure you here;  
Roxana is unbounded in her Hate,  
Cruel, and to be moved, no more, than Fate.  
Her bloody, and her barbarous intent,  
I must with strong, and double Guards prevent,  
Madam, you will not long, be here alone,  
My Guard's already for the Princess gone.  Stat. 
That is an Obligation, I must own.  Perd. 
I might at last, hope a more gentle Fate,  
If Services, could overcome your Hate.  Stat. 
My Friendship, if you please, you may obtain.  Perd. 
'Tis Love, the Soul of Friendship, I would gain.  Stat. 
Love is a Thing, I have no power to give.  Perd. 
Nor is it in my Power, without that Love, to Live.  
But, Madam, this your Hatred may remove,  
Knowing, all my Offences, spring from Love.  
Love is not Love, if's Empire once decays,  
Or if Love's Power, Reason's dull Law obeys. Exit.  Stat. 
On Love though he, both pure and sacred be,  
Men without shame, fling their own Infamy.  
And when they long, in wicked ways have trod,  
All their vile Faults and Crimes lay on the God.  
But Love, thy Nature, is divine, and pure,  
Thou canst no spots, nor blemishes endure.  
Tho all things, do thy Mighty power obey,  
Honour, and Reason, still with thee bear sway.  Enter Parisatis. Pari. 
Have the Kind Gods, a longer Life assigned?  Embraecing. Stat. 
If granting life be Kindness, they are kind.  
Our Tragic-Scene, you see, is not yet past.  
Death will conclude, our Play of Life, at last;  
In the mean time▪ each here must act his part,  
Moved by those Powers above, which rule the Heart.  Pari. 
The Gods, when we're pressed down, yield some relief,  
And sprinkle short-lived Joys, among our Grief:  
The life, of every one, is chequered still.  
(Tho mixed unequally) with good, and ill,  
Which set each other off, like Black, and White,  
This, makes that seem more dark; that, this more bright:  
So late despairing any more to meet,  
Has made the Joys, of this Embrace, thus sweet.  Stat. 
Our Joys soon vanish, like a Winter's day,  
Sorrows like long, and tedious Nights, do stay.  
The Gods dispose our Lots, as they think fit,  
We mortals cannot Choose, but must Submit.  
Bid Charmion sing—  
In her sweet Voice, I oft have pleasure found,  
Music like Balm, eases grief's smarting wound.  They sit. 

A SONG.  

What are all the joys, of Life,  
In which the mind,  
Does never find,  
A true content, unmixed with strife?  
They are like Clouds, which in the Night,  
Impregnate with reflected Light,  
Appear, then vanish out of Sight.   

Our joys, like gathered flow'ers, decay,  
Which soon Consume,  
Their own perfume,  
And breathe their Life, in sweets away.  
No pleasure, here, is permanent,  
Nor the delights, that Men invent,  
Can, to our Souls, give true Content.   

But when the Race, of life, is run,  
And that to Death,  
We yield our Breath,  
We gain the Mansions, of the Sun.  
Then true Content, the mind shall see,  
Then all our joys, shall perfect be,  
And some, like our bright Deity.    Pari. 
The Night grows old, 'tis time to go to rest,  
Sleep calms the passions of a troubled breast.  Stat. 
Sleep which to others a soft pleasure seems,  
To me, of late, new troubles brings in Dreams,  
My labouring Fancy, there, Affliction finds,  
Not that repose, sleep gives, to other minds.  Pari. 
Those Images, which in our Dreams abound,  
Do, but with gentle strokes, our Fancy wound:  
But Balmy sleep, giveth, for a while, relief,  
Allays the smart, and Cures the sting of grief.  Stat. 
With wakeful thoughts, my Soul's so much oppressed,  
My Eyes, no sleep can find, my Mind no rest,  
I know that Death, or some great danger's nigh,  
I'm much afflicted, yet I know not why:  
The knowing Soul, approaching ills discerns,  
And then the Body, by some signs, forewarns,  
When to the Stars, she is about to go,  
She suddenly grows light, and strangely things does know.  Pari. 
The Gods divert, those evils, which you fear,  
Or give us strength, the ills they send, to bear.  Enter a Soldier of Perdicas' Guard. Sold. 
Madam, we by Cassander are surprised,  
And all your Guards, are by his Soldiers seized:  
Some fled, but most, did in your service die.  
Fly, Madam, if it be not yet too late,  
Whilst in your defence, go meet my Fate.  Exit. Clashing of Swords within. Stat. 
'Tis vain to fly, it will but argue fear,  
Since we must die, let's stay, and meet Death here.  Enter Cassander with Mute, with drawn Swords. Cassander turns about speaking to the Soldiers who were about to Enter. Cass. 
Soldiers retire—  
Defend the passage, let none enter here.  Turning to the Princesses the Women running about them shrieking. 
In vain you'll strive, your destiny to shun,  
From the long reach of Fate, you cannot run  
And since you know, there's no avoiding it,  
Be wise, and to necessity submit,  Stat. 
I can submit, to what the God's decree.  
But that, Cassander's, yet unknown to thee.  Cass. 
Fate's Book is open, and we now may read,  
What the great Gods (before time was) decreed.  
'Tis there I read, your Fatal destiny,  
The Gods have willed your Death, and you must die.  Stat. 
Our death, is by Roxana willed, and you,  
And we must yield, if the Gods will it too.  
We can resign to them, the life they lent.  Pari. 
But must you be, the hateful Instrument?  Stat. 
When's cruel Hand, our Innocent Blood has spilled,  
He'll find a just reward, for all his guilt.  Cass. 
I come not here, with Women to dispute,  
Oxas, you know my pleasure—  The Mute kneels, showing them a Strangling string, and making signs to them to submit. Pari. 
Sister, I beg it, with my latest breath,  
Let me first try, th'untrodden paths of Death.  
I will descend before, and threw the way  
With Flowers, that leads, to the Eternal day.  Stat. 
First, from the close, dark Prisons, of the Womb,  
I to the trouble, of short life, did come,  
And first, I in the paths of Death, will tread,  
Which to the joys, of our bright God, do lead.  
Raise not my tender passions, with your Tears, Pari. weeps.  
Like a soft smiling Hebe, Death appears.  
I have no thoughts, which do disturb me now,  
But what proceed, from my great care of you.  
When through the straight of Death, my way I've made,  
And my just debt, to Mother Nature paid,  
When my freed Soul, shall find a larger Room,  
And I all Light, and Spirit shall become,  
On Flowery Banks, where happy shadows stray,  
For thy dear Soul, I will expecting, stay.  
Remember Sir, the blood, from whence we spring, To Cass.  
That I was Wife, to the World's greatest King,  
Your Master too— Now condescend to crave,  
That I may die untouched, by any slave.  
Let my own Women, your commands obey,  
That's all, Cassander, I have now to say.  Cass. 
Be speedy then—  
Oxas— go in, stand a Spectator by,  
Touch not their Persons, only see them die.  Stat. 
Give me that String— Takes the strangling string from the Mute.  
— This Sister is the Friend,  
That soon will give, to all our troubles, End.  
Come banish fear, 'tis but a little breath,  
We lose— 'Tis guilt, that Terror gives, to Death.  Exeunt with Women weeping and Mute following. Cass. 
She's gone,— and straight, will be for ever gone,  
Alas! what Beauty, Love has overthrown!  
Tyrannic Love, which forces me to do  
A thing, 'gainst Virtue, and my conscience too.  
I feel a soft, and tender passion rise,  
And from my Breast, to flow into my Eyes.  
Assist me Love— I fear I shall relent:  
Pity, would make me cowardly Repent,  
If her bright Image, I so much adore,  
Did not by force, attract my Passions more.  Exit. Enter Roxana, Hesione. Roxa. 
Their words, and actions, must Mysterious be,  
Who think to gain a Crown, by Policy:  
Who can't dissemble well, can never rule,  
And a plain dealer, is esteemed a Fool.  
Let not Cassander blame me,— He deceives  
And cheats himself, when he my words believes.  
Love has put out, his minds discerning Eyes,  
Yet the same passion, makes me quick, and wise.  
He vainly Hopes, to gain a Crown, and me,  
With an Eternal blot of Infamy,  
But he will only that, and danger gain,  
Whilst I the profit, and the fruit obtain:  
I shall stand safe, and sheltered, from all harm,  
Whilst he endures, the fury of the storm.  
Close at his Heels, the Tempest will pursue,  
And soon o'ertake, I hope, overwhelm him too.  
Thus Princes, do of ills, themselves acquit,  
And favourites die for Crimes, their Kings commit  Enter Cassander. 
Cassander here— I must dissemble now,  
And a new face will to my Lover show.  Cass. 
Roxana here!— she does my steps pursue, aside.  
She doubts I can't be cruel, or not true:  
A Rival dead sh'accounts an happy sight,  
And comes to glut, her bloody Appetite.  
To th'other World, your Rival now is gone,  
And you, great Queen, Command this World alone.  
The furious Perdiccas, I've Prisoner made,  
By Gold, and his corrupted Guards betrayed.  
Sometimes in Fury, the whole World he threats,  
Anon, more mild, as humbly he entreats,  
Now deep Revenge, by all the Gods, he swears;  
Then courts his Guards, than curses, and dispa'res,  
And calling on the Queen, bursts into Tears.  Roxa. 
What! have you then the great Statira slain?  Cass. 
Yes— she is dead, that you alone might Reign.  Roxa. 
O Gods! It cannot be—  Cass. 
Not be?— when you  
Did pray, desire, entreat, command it too?  
I am amazed—  Roxa. 
Ah! I did soon Repent,  
Those harsh commands, from my strong passion sent,  
You saw the flames, of the then raging fire,  
And should have quenched, my Exorbitant desire.  
You those Commands, might very well distrust,  
Which bid you, to be cruel, and unjust.  Cass. 
Madam, your vain Repentance, comes too late,  
No Humane power, can now recall their Fate.  Enter Mute. 
What! is Statira, and her Sister dead?  Mute makes signs they are Dead. 
By this, the greatness, of my Love, you see,  
And what Commanding power, you've over me.  
Great Queen, you shall the whole World's Sceptre sway,  
Whilst at your feet, its Kings their Crowns shall lay,  
And your Cassander kneel, more great than they.  Roxa. 
O cruel Man! whom some fell Tygress bore,  
Could not that move you, which the Gods adore?  
Beauty, so Sacred, and Divine, a good,  
Which safe, 'midst bloody Arms, unguarded stood,  
Could that no fear, nor reverence, move in thee?  
Hadst thou no awe, of its Divinity?  
Tyrants who durst, Priests, Altars, Gods, invade,  
Have still to Beauty awful Reverence paid.  
Could not her Sex, her Blood, her Dignity,  
Give some stop to thy Monstrous cruelty?  Cass. 
'Tis well dissembled— but your heart I see,  
You may deceive the World, but cannot me.  Roxa. 
Dissemble! Oh my Heart, swells in my Breast,  
And with such loads, of sorrow, is depressed,  
I never shall again, with joys, be blessed. weeps.  
Show me this dismal sight?—  Cass. 
False Woman, you shall see that welcome sight,  
Won't move your sorrow, but your Eyes delight.  They go towards the further part of the Stage, the Scene opens and discovers Statira and Parisatis lying as dead on two Couches their faces Veiled, Cleone and other Women sitting by them on the Ground weeping. 
See there they lie, hid in Death's gloomy Night.  Roxa. 
There lie the marks, of thy Barbarity;  
Which I with trembling, and with Horror see.  
In silence, I a Sister's Death will mourn,  
My Soul, for my weak Limbs, too heavie's grown.  Returns leaning on Hesione. Cass. 
She feigns so well, and so much Art, does show,  
I doubt I shall anon, believe her too. The Scene Closes.  
Would I had power, to give them Life again,  
That you, Roxana, might not weep in vain!  
'Tis now your dear Dead Sister, but if she  
Could Live, she'd then your hated Rival be;  
And I, who am, so barbarous a Man,  
Should Courted be, to Murder her again.  
Great Jove, who all the lesser Fates controls,  
Send from above, from thy great stock of Souls,  
Two new immortal sparks, or th'old return,  
That grieved Roxana, may no longer mourn.  Roxa. 
Leave your vain wishes— Let the Gods alone.  
There's business, of more moment, to be done.  
When the Sea's calm, the Air Serene, and clear,  
The Ship before the Wind, each Buoy can steer.  
But when the Winds, roar in their shattered shrouds,  
When Heaven's bright face, grows terrible, with clouds  
And angry Seas, to moving Mountains grow,  
The Pilot than his skill, and Art does show.  
'Tis now, Cassander, you must show your skill,  
And try, if you can save, as well as kill.  
Now you must show, your courage, and your care,  
To every Guard, and every Watch repair:  
Statira was beloved, and you will see  
Th' enraged Babylonians Mutiny:  
They will revenge her Death, on you, and me.  
If us, from threatning storms, you now can save,  
You shall enjoy, the Fortune, of the Brave.  Cass. 
T'obtain your Love, your Foes I have withstood,  
Imprisoned Friends, and dipped my Hands in Blood,  
Your interests, and your Factions mine have made,  
But I with scorn, and with neglect, am paid.  
Let the storm rise, I long enough have striven,  
To show my obedience, and my matchless Love.  
I like a God, will now withdraw my Guard,  
And let Ruin lose, till you my Love reward.  Roxa. 
Let R●ne come, Cassander, you will learn.  
It does not me, so much as you, concern.  
Were you a God, and had the power of Jove,  
You never should compel me, Sir, to Love:  
I know your merits, and your passion see,—  
Go to your charge— leave the reward to me.  Cass. 
By what strong Charm, am I compel ' to Love!  
I must, and will, this wicked Charm remove.  
Think not, that you with Tears, can me beguile,  
False as the Hyena, or the Crocodile,  
Weep o'er your prey, when in your Heart you smile,  
I'll humbly seek, no more, for Love my due,  
But try by force, and Arms to compass you:  
My Hands once more in Blood, I will imbrue,  
And change your false, and feigned Tears, to true.  Exit Mute following him. Roxa. 
When Love, and high Ambition do possess To Hesi. smiling.  
Thy Soul, thou mayst at my great pleasure Guess.  
The dead Statira, was a happy sight,  
Oh! how my Heart, was filled with the delight!  
Nothing can now, my happiness remove,  
I have no Rival, in my Throne, nor Love:  
The way to Empire, and to Love is plain,  
He whom I love is safe, she I did hate is slain.  Hesi. 
I saw dark Clouds, in your fierce Lovers Eyes,  
I fear some storm, will suddenly arise,  
His Soul, is full of Jealousy, and spite,  
I wonder, you so much his anger slight.  Roxa. 
Let him rage on, he will grow tame, at last;  
Men play with Fishes, when they'ave hooked them fast▪  
'Tis sport to hear, and to behold a while,  
A Lion roar, and struggling in the toil.  
I can with ease, the furious Beast beguile,  
Awe him with frowns, and cheer him with a smile,  
Now I must build, and now destroy his peace,  
Sometimes his hopes, sometimes his fears increase,  
And so, in equal balance, keep them still;  
Thus I subject, this Lion, to my will.  Enter Mute, hastily makes signs, and pulling Roxana by the Sleeve to follow him. 
What means this Mute? what is it he would have?  Hesi. 
Madam, he your assistance seems to crave.  
Some business of importance, brings him here.  Roxa. 
He seems both full of haste, and full of fear.  
Alas! I can't divine, what this should be.  
Ill know, what his dumb signs, do signify.  Exeunt, hastily following the Mute  

The SCENE, The Prison of Orontes.  Enter Cassander. Cass. 
I bowed my Neck indeed, to mighty Love,  
When I would scorn, to be a slave to Jove,  
His chains I did admit, and never strove:  
They looked so fair, so easy seemed, and light,  
They shone so glorious, and appeared so bright,  
I took pride in my Bonds, and wore them with delight.  
But now they're heavy, and uneasy grown,  
They sit too close, and off they must be thrown.  
But ah! I fear 'tis past my power, and skill,  
My Rebel Heart, will not obey my will.  
It loves the great, and proud Roxana still,  
Ill Love, but Court her, at another Rate,  
My Love, shall now appear, to her, like Hate,  
I am resolved, I will turn Rebel straight.  
Her hopes, which on Orontes life, depend Draws his Sword.  
Shall, with his life, have instantly an End.  Goes towards the further part of the Stage, the Scene opens and discovers Orontes leaning on a Couch. Oron. 
Soft sleep, o'er half the World, his Wings does spread.  
And does on weary Eyes, his Poppies shed;  
Nature herself, in silence, seems to nod,  
And all things rest, full of the drowsy God,  
Yet I, whom wakeful thoughts, and cares infest,  
Nor for my Soul, nor for my Eyes, find rest.  
What vision's this, appears before my sight, Seas Cass. with a drawn sword.  
So fierce, and dreadful, in the dead of Night?  Cass. 
I am thy evil Genius, and am come,  
With this, Orontes, to pronounce thy doom.  
By mighty Jove, and all the Gods, you shall  
To Love, and Anger, now a Victim fall.  Oron. 
Tho I from hated life, would gladly fly,  
I will not, at your pleasure, tamely die.  Rises and comes forth. Cass. 
You must Orontes—  
Roxana is not here, to help you now,  
You stand between, my happiness, and me.  advances to kill Orontes. Enter Roxana and Hesione. Roxa. 
O Gods! what spectacle is this I see! To Hesi.  
Run— Call my Guards— Exit Hesione.  
Traitor be gone—  Roxana runs betwixt Cassander and Orontes. Cass. 
When I have killed Orontes, I will go.  Roxa. 
You first shall kill, your Queen, and Mistress too.  Cass. 
I'ave vowed his Death, and will my vow perform.  Roxa. 
I'ave vowed his safety— He shall take no harm.  
Is this the way, you your great passion prove?  Cass. 
I now a Rebel am to Love.  Strives to come at Orontes. Roxana to hinder him. Roxa. 
And like a Rebel, I will use you now.  Enter Guards— seize Cassander and dis-arm him. 
Traitor, you shall at last, my power know.  
Bear hence this raging Beast— To the Guards.  
In Chains, and a close Prison, keep him safe,  
Till he grows tame again—  Cass. 
Ungrateful Queen—  
I have too long your slave, and lover been:  
But I, in spite of your bewitching Charms,  
Will Live, to kill, your Gallant in your Arms.  Roxa. 
Guards have him hence— Exeunt Guards with Cassander.  
Can my Orontes, still inhuman be?  
Have you no Love, nor pity left for me?  
Didst thou the Milk, of some fierce Tygress Suck?  
Or was thy Heart, cut from a Scythian Rock?  
That thou canst see a Queen, whom Kings adore,  
Fall at thy Feet, and Love, with Tears, implore. Kneels.  
Can you so tender, to Statira be,  
And a cold Marble Statue, still to me?  Oron. 
Roxana rise— takes her up.  
A noble Soul, to Love, was ne'er compelled,  
Bright virtue only, makes brave Souls to yield:  
But your blind passion, bears such evil sway,  
That leads you far, from virtues paths, astray.  
You asked a Heart, that was bestowed before  
On Queen Statira—  Roxa. 
In vain you do on her your Love bestow,  
Unless you'll Court her, in the shades below.  Oron. 
How! Is Statira dead!—  
Ah! cruel Tygress! have you slain the Queen?  
Of all that's fair, and good, have you the Murthress been?  Roxa. 
I tried that way, your Rocky Heart to move,  
And see, how soon, it can be touched, by Love.  
Statira Lives—  Oron. 
Lives!— Where?— into her Arms I'll fly,  
Or— tell me, is she dead? that I may die.  
Without her, to the Gods, I would not go,  
Nor tread, the blessed Elysian Fields below:  
Without Statira, I no bliss can know.  
But if she's dead, I'll fly away  
From life, and here, not one short minute stay,  
Speak— is she dead?— you rack me with delay.  Roxa. 
This tender passion, for my Rival shown,  
My Loving Heart too, on the Rack has thrown.  
But I will be revenged, and you shall dwell  
In anxious doubt, and tortured in that Hell.  Oron. 
Stay— do not thus, in cruelty delight:  
Let me not linger here— Kill me outright:  
Tell me she's dead, and kill me with that word,  
Or say she lives, and a reprieve afford.  
Free me from pain, or send my Soul from hence.  Roxa. 
Thy Soul, shall feel, the torture, of suspense,  
I will torment thee yet— thou shalt not know,  
Whether Statira, is alive, or no.  Exit with Hesione. Oron. 
What shall I do? 'tis pain, and Death, to Live,  
Each Minute does ten Thousand tortures give,  
And yet in Death, I dare not seek my bliss,  
Lest, in that unknown Region, I should miss  
The happiness I seek,—  
And lose my Queen, in that World, and in this.  
O Gods! What pains do you for Souls prepare,  
Who dare not hope, yet know not to dispa're.  Goes in, the SCENE Closes.   

The Fifth ACT.  

The SCENE, Babylon.  Enter Eumenes, Lysimachus, Ptolemy, Thalestris, Amazons, and Soldiers. Eume. 
THe City's won, and none left to oppose,  
Within the Palace Walls, are all our Foes.  Lysi. 
In vain, in vain, have we a Conquest made,  
The cruel Gods, have all our hopes betrayed,  
And with them, all, our Earthly Joys, are fled,  
The Queen, and her fair Sister too, are dead.  
This is the news, which like a deadly Dart,  
Now pierced my Ears, and struck me through the Heart.  Thal. 
Why did the Gods, such Heavenly forms Create,  
And join, with so much Beauty, so ill Fate?  
They give us cause, their Godheads to blaspheme.  Eume. 
The ways of Providence, do Riddles seem,  
And are, like various Fancies, in a Dream,  
'Tis past our skill, to find the Sense of them.  
Their Murderers, let's with Revenge, pursue,  
The Gods, will aid us, when their works we do.  Ptol. 
Yes, brave Eumenes, we will first Revenge  
Their Death, and then the Scene of Life I'll change.  Lysi. 
Since Love, could not our Friendships know untie,  
We will both perfect Friends, and Lovers die.  Embrace. Ptol. 
Death shan't have power, our Souls to disunite,  
For both, shall hence, together take their flight,  
And since our Body's, here the difference make,  
Our Souls below, shall but one shadow take.  Lysi. 
Come, my dear Friend, let us about it straight.  
Draw up the Army, to the Palace Gate, To the Soldiers.  
Let it with all our Troops, be compassed round,  
And then with Ramms, holiday it to the Ground.  Exeunt Omnes.  

The SCENE, The Palace Royal in Babylon.  Enter Roxana with Hesione. Roxa. 
My Soul, is with too great a load oppressed,  
My Eyes can find no sleep, my Mind no rest,  
For my designs, will all Successless prove  
If I can't make, the Scythian Prince, to Love.  
I'ave saved his Life, with hazard of my own,  
And disobliged those, who should guard my Throne.  Hesi. 
Time, only can, his Rebel Heart subdue,  
Extinguish his old Flame, and kindle new.  
All your perfections, he will then admire,  
And in his Breast, feel a new Amorous fire.  Roxa. 
Statira, still in his great Heart, does live,  
I doubt, he never, will her Death forgive.  Hesi. 
Time, does on all, a blessed oblivion shed,  
Which takes away, the memory of the dead,  
On grieving Souls, it by degrees does creep,  
And does surprise insensibly, as sleep.  
Nature, at last, must tired, and weary grow,  
The highest Tides, of grief, still ebb most low.  Roxa. 
I can't, with so long expectation, wait,  
Let Love, and Time, like slaves, attend my State,  
I must and will have satisfaction straight.  
When the whole East, submits to my Command,  
Shall he alone, my Will, and power withstand?  shouts within. 
Hark— hark— what shouts are those, so loud?  Hesi. 
They're shouts of Joy, and of a Multitude.  Shout again. Rox. 
What can this mean!— It does my Soul affright,  
The Babylonians, are grown mad, to night.  Enter an Officer of Roxana's Guards. Offi. 
Madam the City's taken, and your Foes  
Have routed all, who durst their force oppose.  Roxa. 
The City taken!— you've neglectful been.  Offi. 
'Twas not Neglect, but Treason let them in.  
They entered, at Semiramises Gate,  
Where none opposed them, till it was too late.  
Thence, like a Torrent, they the City filled,  
And all, who did oppose them, easily killed.  
With eager shouts, a Squadron, this way made,  
Your Guards, and Royal Palace, to invade:  
Your routed Soldiers, wheresoever they fly,  
For Perdiccas, and for Cassander cry.  Roxa. 
Hast— away— to your Captain run, with speed,  
And let Cassander, from restraint, be freed.  Offi. 
— I fear, 'tis now too late,  
The Foes, by this are at the Palace Gate.  Rox. 
Be gone— tell me not of your fears, but fly,  
Effect, what I command you straight, or die. Exit Officer.  
I know not which way, my hard Fate, to shun.  
Ah! cruel Fate! how can this loss be born!  
And how shall I endure, Orontes scorn!  Hesi. 
I hope the Gods, will yet, some pity show,  
With patience wait, their Wills you soon will know.  Roxa. 
Their Wills, they in my ruin, have made known,  
But I'll not stoop to theirs, but to my own:  
For since they will, I shall be quite undone,  
I'll will it too, and on my Fate, will run.  
My Death, shall be th'effect, of my own will,  
For first Orontes, than myself I'll kill:  
I then in dying, shall some pleasure find,  
To leave Orontes dead, will please my mind:  
Perhaps his Ghost, below, may prove more kind▪  
If not, I'll there, his fierce tormenter prove,  
Eternally, I'll kill him, with my Love.  Enter Officer and Soldiers. Offi. 
Cassander is set free, but will not fight,  
He seems, to hear, our dangers, with delight,  
And said, the Gods, revenged his wrongs, this Night.  
After some pause, a few choice men, he took,  
And suddenly enraged, the place forsook.  
But muttering as he went, I heard him cry,  
I will my Rival kill, before I die.  Roxa. 
O Gods! I must this wretches power control:  
With this, I'll first let out, his treacherous Soul.  Snatches a javelin from the Officer. 
Under a tottering Tower, I seem to stand,  
And would uphold it, with my feeble hand,  
I see it shake, and know, at last, 'twill fall,  
And, with its Ruins, overwhelm us all.  
But like myself, a brave great Queen I'll die,  
Whilst, with my Fate oppressed, dead Princes round me lie.  Exeunt. Enter Perdiccas with Sword in his Hand. Perd. 
Horrid Confusion, reigns in every place,  
And all things now, look with a dreadful face:  
In this confusion, I my freedom gain,  
But Oh! my Soul, is tortured still, with pain,  
The cursed Roxana, has Statira slain.  
I now am come, to set my Rival free,  
In her Revenge we shall like friends agree.  Scene opens, and discovers Orontes. Oron. 
Again disturbed!— what, Perdiccas, are you  
Come, to dispatch, your hated Rival too?  
Make haste— but first, this satisfaction give,  
Tell me, ah tell me, does Statira live?  Perd. 
She's gone— she's gone— she's vanished from our sight▪  
The cursed Cassander, put out all her light,  
And those fair eyes, which shone, than Day, more bright,  
By Death Eclipsed, are hid in shades of Night.  Oron. 
Here— Pierce my Breast, and with a welcome blow,  
At last, some Kindness, to your Rival show.  Opening his Arms. Perd. 
Statira's death, puts to our strife, an end,  
You not my Rival, now may be my Friend.  
Take this— Gives him a Sword.  
From my restraint, I, but just now, got free,  
First hither ran, to give you Liberty,  
That we the Scenes of War, Blood, Death, might change,  
And, on her Foes, Statira's Death revenge.  Oron. 
Tho I, from hated Life, would fly away,  
A brave, and just Revenge, invites my stay,  
The Gods, and you, have armed my hand, once more,  
I swear, by her blessed Shade, I still adore,  
I will revenge her Death—  Enter Cassander and Soldiers. 
— The Monster see.—  Cass. 
What! Perdiccas released!  
And is Orontes too, of Arms possessed!  Oron. 
Thou most accursed of humane Kind—  Cassander and Soldiers fight with Orontes and Perdiccas, Cassander falls wounded by Orontes. Enter Roxana, hastily followed by Hesione, Officers and Soldiers. Roxana wounds Orontes with a Spear, the Soldiers are beat off the Stage by Perdiccas and Roxana 's Soldiers Roxa. 
Oh Gods! What have I done!—  
Thus humbly prostrate, to my Prince, I bow,  Kneels, and about to Embrace the Knees of Oront. he steps back. 
My Soul, has given, all Empire up, to you,  
And my proud Heart, great Love, has conquered now.  Oron. 
Touch me not Tygress, with those guilty Hands,  
Honour forbids, what passion now Commands,  
Else by Cassander, bleeding you should lie,  
And your Cursed Souls, to Hell together fly.  Cass. 
Fate here has thrown me, as a useless thing,  
Wounded, and bleeding, here, in pain, I lie,  
I have not strength to fight, nor wound enough to die.  
Death, has no pain, like that, which now I feel,  
Seeing the great, and proud Roxana Kneel,  
Poor spirited Woman, canst thou be so mean,  
To stoop, below the grandeur, of a Queen?  
Thy noble Pride, did first, my Love beget,  
Oh! let it like the Sun, in Glory set,  
As he, with setting Beams, makes read the air,  
In spite of Clouds, which angry Gods prepare,  
Let your proud Heart, be throughly understood,  
Look gay in Death, and falling set in Blood.  
die whilst a Queen,— Play an Heroic part,  
First, with a Sword, pierce his rebellious Heart,  Pointing to Oront. 
Then, rush on Death's inevitable shelf,  
Kindly kill me, and bravely stab thyself.  Roxa. 
Tho Love has forced my mighty Heart, to sue,  
I yet have pride, and scorn enough for you. To Cass.  
Bear him from hence—  Cass. 
False Queen— when I'ave Death's frozen passage crossed,  
I will return, to haunt thee, with my Ghost.  Exit carried forth by Soldiers. Perd. 
Keep in, a while, his Life's expiring flame,  
Till Death approach him, with a greater shame.  Oron. 
Come, let us to our fighting Friends repair,  
And seek a Death, which will be welcome there,  
ay, with my Breast, will catch some flying Dart,  
And give't, an easy passage, to my Heart.  Exeunt Oront. and Perd. Roxa. 
He's gone, and left me, like a wretch, with scorn,  
Fallen, from my greatness, wretched and forlorn.  
In Babylon, I never will be seen,  
Below the glorious title of a Queen.  
I then must die—  
die, ere I have, all signs of Empire, lost,  
die, ere I all my Misery understand,  
die, whilst I may have Death, at my Command.  Draws out a Dagger▪ Enter Messenger. Mess. 
The enemy's into the Palace got.  Roxa. 
Slave, let me die, a Queen, in all my Pride,  
As once the great Assyrian Monarch died.  
Go— Burn the Palace, set it straight on fire,  
Encompassed round, with Flames, I'll here expire,  
All my rich Treasure, and my Jewels burn,  
And this great pile, with me, to Ashes turn,  
I'll die enthroned— the Palace be my Urn.  
Slave art thou here— Why is not all this done?  
Am I not yet a Queen— haste and be gone. Goes to strike him with the Dagger. Exit Officer.  
But oh! my Heart, I feel a shivering fear,  
I cannot die, and leave Orontes here;  
What satisfaction, should I now receive,  
Could I once more behold him, while I live,  
For one last look, an Empire I would give.  Enter Orontes, Perdiccas, Lysimachus, Ptolemy, Eumenes, Thalestris, Amazons and Soldiers. Lysi. 
The Babylonians, when they understood  
Roxana's cruel Act, their Arms flung by,  
And now for Justice, on the murderers, Cry.  Ptol. 
Those who opposed, and were our foes before,  
With one consent, their dear Queen's death deplore,  
They now in heaps, before the Palace crowd,  
And for Revenge, and Justice cry aloud.  Perd. 
And Justice they shall have— seize that false Queen.  Roxa. 
Slaves keep your distance— see, Death stands between.  Holds forth her Dagger to the Soldiers. 
I scorn my Fate, within your Power should lie,  
I both the Power of Men, and Gods defy,  
I'll use my own, when I am pleased to die.  Oron. 
Let her own guilty Hands, her Life pursue,  
The G●●●, by them, will on her Justice do.  Perd. 
Oh! barbarous Queen, you did yourself deceive,  
You ●●●●ght, there were no Gods, or did believe,  
They were not just, but they, at last, have sent  
Me, from your Bonds, to give you punishment.  Roxa. 
If Death, be the great punishment, you mean,  
You threaten, what with Prayers, I would obtain,  
You could, to me, no greater Torment, give,  
Than to permit me, without Hope, to live.  
Death is the Blessing, which I wish for most,  
Now I'ave Orontes, and my Empire lost.  Oron. 
The just Gods, think a Crown, for such unfit,  
Who seek by horrid Crimes, to purchase it.  Roxa. 
The Crimes, I did commit, the Gods above▪  
Will easily Pardon, because Crimes of Love.  
To kill a Rival, I account no sin,  
And I would do't, were it to do ag'in,  
It does, with such delight, my Mind possess,  
The Pleasures of a Crown, would please me less.  
She would have given, more tortures, to my Mind▪  
Lived she; than I shall now▪ in Dying find.  
In Death, alas! no bitterness would be,  
But that, I find, I still am scorned by thee.  Perd. 
The Gods, did long▪ their Vengeance, keep in store,  
And now, on your Cursed Head, their Thunderbolts, they pour.  Roxa. 
I scorn, my Mouth, should my great Heart, belie,  
I both Mankind, and th' unkind Gods defy,  
And though with Plagues, they still should me pursue,  
They never, shall my ' unconquered Heart, subdue:  
Thus— not the Gods, but my own Sacrifice Lifting up the Dagger.  
I'll fall— I must take Courage from those Eyes,  Pausing and looking on Orontes. 
I'll take one farewel-Look, before I die,  
One more, and I'll, for ever, from you sly.  Perd. 
Your Wound still bleeds—  Oron. 
'Tis slight— I must, a greater wound, prepare.  
The World shall see, the Power of Death, too weak,  
The Joys of my Immortal Love to break.  
ay, to my Love, have made a solemn Vow,  
By all the Gods, I will perform it now. Draws forth a Dagger.  Lysi. 
Brave Prince, we Rivals too, have Vowed the same,  Ptol. 
Our Souls possess, the like immortal flame.  Roxa. 
Ah! will Orontes die— New Joys I feel,  
I'll stay, and watch my Princes fatal blow,  
Then in my Breast, I'll plunge my Dagger too,  
And, at one instant, both our Souls, shall start,  
Together, both, from our dull Bodies, part,  
And if a Spirit, can a Spirit hold,  
I will his Soul, within my Soul enfold.  Perd. 
The dreadful face of Death, I'ave oft beheld,  
In all her shapes, I'ave seen her, in the field,  
There's none will think, that now I shrink for fear,  
Or that I'd sly, though many Deaths appear.  
A vain, fantastic place, Elysium seems,  
But you believe—  
The Tales of Priests, and idle Poet's dreams.  
The Queen's Death, I'll revenge, than Altars rear,  
To her great Name, make her a Goddess, here,  
Whilst you, vain Blisses seek, you know not where.  Oron. 
Statira gone, I nothing here can find,  
Which can give ease to my disturbed mind.  
You gentle Ghosts, look down from Heaven above,  
And see th' Effects of true, and faithful Love.  Lysi. 
With you, Dear Souls, our Bliss, and Joys are fled,  
It is no Life, to Live, now you are dead.  Ptol. 
Our Souls, and theirs, through Love, were so much one,  
Ours cannot stay behind, when theirs are gone.  Oron. 
After our Loves, to that blessed place, we'll go,  
Where Love's immortal, and no change, does know,  
Where Rivals cannot, our long bliss destroy,  
And where we undisturbed, each other shall enjoy.  Enter the Mute. Arax. 
Ah! Sir, does this black Mask, disguise me so,  
You can't, your own faithful Araxis, know?  Oron. 
Araxis!—  
I can't Araxis find, in this disguise.  
Let me embrace you, ere I die— Embraces him.  
Ah! this has been a sad, and fatal Night.  Arax. 
The Day appears, with clear, and cheerful Light.  Oron. 
About my Heart, a Night of sorrow lies.  Arax. 
You will find Day, in your Statira's Eyes.  Enter Capt. with Statira, Parisatis, Cleone. Oron. 
ay, with the weight, of my own Joys, am pressed,  
They cannot be contained, within my Breast?  
Do I but Dream, or am I truly blessed.  Roxa. 
O Gods! I am betrayed— my Rival's here,  
Worse, than a thousand Deaths, she does appear.  
Death, which before, I looked on, with content,  
Will now my torture be, and punishment.  
What can my Torment, and my pain express?  
Orontes, and my Crown, she will possess.  Stat. 
I live, my Prince,— by your Araxis care.  Arax. 
And by th'Assistance, of this Captain, here,  presenting the Captain to Orontes, they Embrace. 
He me disguised, feigned me a Mute, and Slave,  
And me, a present, to Cassander gave.  Roxa. 
Gods! was I thus betrayed!—  Arax. 
The Gods were kind—  
And wrought by me, more than I had designed.  
They first made known, Roxana's vile intent,  
And made me then, an happy Instrument,  
The Queen's most horrid Murder, to prevent.  Stat. 
We went to die, but 'twas no small surprise,  
To find Araxis, in this black disguise,  
By his contrivance, we our Foes deceived,  
For what, they much desired, they soon believed,  
We strangled, dead, and veiled appeared, in view,  
Till, from the place, our cruel Foes withdrew:  
Thus, the kind Gods, their wickedness withstood,  
And saved the Relics, of Darius Blood.  In the mean time Lysimachus and Ptolemy Court Parisatis in dumb show. Oron. 
Divine Statira, you're so great a prize,  
For you, the whole World's Empire I'd despise:  
The Persian Crown's, to me, of small esteem,  
Compared, to this unvaluable Gemm: kissing her Hand.  
Upon your brow, the Scythian Crown shall shine,  
And, at your feet, I prostrate all that's mine.  Roxa. 
'Tis time to die— their bliss I cannot see,  
Hell— tortures— and confusion follow me:  
Harpies, my Soul, with cruel Talons tear,  
She can, no longer, the sad torment bear:  
Thus I will set her free— she cannot know Stabs herself.  
A greater Torment, nor more pains below,  
To a worse Hell than this, she cannot go.  Stat. 
Rescue her life— Let her repenting Live,  
It is my Glory, that I can forgive.  As she goes to repeat the blow, the Soldiers seize her. Roxa. 
Ye cruel Gods, who thus my will oppose,  
Who thus Enslave me, to my mortal Foes,  
And make my imperious Heart, to stoop to them,  
Whilst Life remains, I'll curse you, and Blaspheme.  
But ah! I hope, my Soul's, from Prison freed,  
I feel Life gently sliding hence— I bleed—  
What thick dark fog is this, before my Eyes?  
So— now my Soul, to unknown Regions flies.  
Where is my Love— see— yonder— where he rests,  
Come, use the softer Pillow, of my Breasts:  
Here thou mayst sleep, secure from Rivals harms,  
Whilst, I enclose thee gently, in mine Arms.  
Now undisturbed, we'll taste immortal blisses,  
I'll hush thee fast with sighs, then wake thee with my kisses.  Stat. 
She raves— she raves— and from her sense is gone.  Roxa. 
Oh! my sick Heart— I shall be well anon.  
Where is Orontes?— set me on my Throne,  
From Babylon, I know I'm wandered far,  
Yet I'm a Queen, my Kingdom is a Star:  
Go fetch that Rebel— bring him to my feet,  
I'll make, at last, his stubborn heart submit.  
Let half my starry Kingdom, down be hurled,  
And overwhelm his little Earthly World.  Stat. 
Remove her hence— Thus Gods their Judgement show,  
That poor ambitious Mortals, here may know,  
They sit above, and see, and govern all below.  Roxana is carried off the Stage Raving. Perd. 
See here, another Wretch, that's forced to sue,  
For Justice, to the Gods, and greater you.  
Madam, I Love, and grow distracted too.  
Thus lowly, Madam, I fall down before Kneels.  
The beauteous Image, which I still adore.  
Condemn me straight to die, and mercy show,  
Life will be worse than Death, if I lose you.  Stat. 
No Perdiccas, you must not die—  
All your offences, I do now forgive:  
I wish, I could as soon, your grief remove,  
I can, my pity grant you, though not Love.  Perd. 
Your pity, Madam, cannot ease my Grief,  
And to the wounds of Love, giveth small relief.  Stat. 
Well Perdiccas, I'll give my Friendship too,  
All but myself, I will bestow on you.  
I'll with you share, my Empire, and my Throne,  
If thats too little, wear my Crown alone.  Perd. 
I want no Crowns, my Arms, can them subdue,  
Nor sought I, for your Empire, but for you.  Oron. 
There's nothing, Sir, that I esteem above  
Your noble Friendship, but Statira's Love:  
I for the Queen, not for her Empire, strove.  Perd. 
Half the World's Realms, this, did already win,  puts his Hand to his Sword. 
And when I please, can Conquer 'em o'er ag'in.  
For Empire, let th'ambitious sue to Jove,  
Nothing can satisfy my Soul, but Love.  Stat. 
All the rich Treasure, Alexander left,  
That Princely Robber's, not inglorious Theft,  
To buy your friendship, I will freely give,  
Let me in peace, with my Orontes Live.  Perd. 
Go bait the Covetous, with such sordid pelf,  
I'll not accept a World, without your self.  Oron. 
Since you to be my Foe, are still inclined,  
You shall Orontes, still Orontes find,  
From all the World▪ I can my Queen defend,  
And this, to our debate, shall put an End: Lay hold on his Sword.  
die then▪ my Rival, or else live my Friend.  Peru. 
Gods! am I threatened?— Lays hold on his Sword, Statira stops him.  〈◊〉 
〈◊〉 Perdiccas— Show me some proofs of Love:  
All Cause of Quarrel, with yourself remove.  Perd. 
Show me the path, in which you'd have me tread,  
I'll follow it, though it to Hell should lead.  
What would you have me do?—  Stat. 
— Still think me dead.  
Do, what you did resolve, to do, before,  
When you did never think, to see me more.  
You 'ave seen the sad Effects, of Lawless Love,  
Let Virtue, his Tyranny sway remove.  
Th' other half World, go Conquer with your Sword,  
War, will diversion give, or cure afford.  Perd. 
Madam, I'll try, to ' obey your strict Command,  
But here I Vow, at the Altar of your Hand, Kisses her Hand▪  
Whilst the Gods grant me Life, I ever will  
Honour, Respect, Love, and adore you still.  
To Arms— to Arms,  
Till my unquiet, restless Life shall cease,  
The World, like me, shall never be in peace.  
Madam farewell—  
— I done't your threatenings fear, Turning to Orontes.  
I'll go to Scythia, if not meet you here.  Exit. Lysi. 
Thus humbly prostrate before you we fall,  Lysi. and Ptol. kneeling to Parisatis. 
You are our Judge, and on your gentle Breath,  
Depends the Sentence, of our Life, and Death.  Ptol. 
Madam to you, we now for Judgement fly,  
Say which of us must Live, and which must die.  
Love can't permit, two Rivals in one Throne,  
He is a Monarch, and must reign alone.  
Our Love, and friendship in this both agree  
To own your Sentence just, what e'er it be.  Pari. 
Rise Noble Friends— I will impartial be,  She makes them rise. 
I cannot grant, what you now ask of me.  
Your Equal Virtues, so my Heart divide,  
I cannot now, your friendly strife decide.  
I should be, unjust—  
To Murder one, whilst I the other save:  
Since if I one accept, I th' other lose,  
I will be just to both, and both refuse.  Lysi. 
In choosing one, you will some Mercy show,  
But you will both destroy, in doing so,  
Destroying both, you Cruelty express,  
In saving one of us, you show much less.  Ptol. 
Madam, since both, cannot your Love enjoy,  
Let not our Friendship, our great Bliss destroy:  
For though we both, thus for your Love contend,  
Each, is at once, a Rival, and a Friend.  
In choosing one, you one of us Redeem,  
Refusing both, you both to Death Condemn.  Pari. 
In both of you, ay, a rare Friendship see,  
Love has not power, to make you disagree,  
You both have been, so noble, and so brave,  
And both such Equal Love, and Merits have,  
That it would be, an unjust thing, in me,  
To give to one, the Palm of Victory.  
Therefore brave friends—  
I'd rather be thought Cruel, than unjust.  Lysi. 
Since our fair Princess, won't our cause decide,  
Our Quarrel must, at last, by Arms be tried. turning to Ptolemy.  
Our sacred friendship, must not be above,  
The higher, and more sacred power, of Love.  Pari. 
Live still brave friends, as friendly as you did,  
Still as you were, both friends, and Rivals live,  
I now command it— He who disobeys,  
Loses my Love, and his own cause betrays.  
Let not your Love, your Friendship now divide,  
The Gods, and Time, will your kind strife decide,  
To them we'll leave your cause— whilst you agree,  
You equal favour, shall receive from me.  Lysi. 
Madam, our Fates lie in your powerful Hand,  
I will obey, what ever you Command.  Ptol. 
And I'll endeavour, by obedience too,  
To please, though I shall never merit you.  
Rival, and Friend, for so we still must be, To Lysi.  
Let us Embrace— and like friends still agree.  Lysi. 
Love, has most nobly, our high friendship Crowned.  Embracing. Eume. 
Madam, in you, lies my felicity, Kneeling to Thalestris.  
Ah! let me not alone unhappy be.  
Let me not only have a cause to mourn,  
Whilst you my Love, and Services do scorn.  Oron. 
Madam, we all d● for Eumenes sue,  
None, his high merits, can reward, but you.  
I hope, you will not, our just suits delay,  
And spoil the Lustre, of this happy day.  
We cannot freely, our own Bliss, enjoy,  
If you this Prince's happiness destroy.  Thal. 
Eumenes rise— I can resist no more, Takes up Eumenes.  
Love made some progress, in my Heart before.  
In these brave friends, I such rare virtues find,  
Which reconcile me now to Men, and make me kind.  
To all my Women, you shall Husbands give,  
And we'll henceforth, like other Nations live,  
Henceforth, we will no longer live, alone,  
But joined, by Love, make of two Kingdoms one.  
We then shall lose, our Monarchy, and Name,  
And only Live, by History, and Fame.  
So Rivers, having through large Kingdoms past,  
Loose Name, and Waters, in the Sea, at last:  
What Mortal dares, with mighty Love contend,  
Who thus can give, to our great Empire, End?  Oron. 
Let us, fair Queens, now to the Temple go,  
To pay those Vows, which to the Gods, we owe:  
Let th' Holy Altars, with bright Incense shine,  
And Hecatombs, fall to the Powers Divine:  
In Pious Joys, let's lose all sorrows past,  
A true, and Virtuous Love, Heaven Crowns, at last.  The Curtain falls.   
FINIS.   

EPILOGUE  Spoken by Statira. 
POets, like Gods, Create, what forms they please,  
Monarchs, and Mighty Heroes, kill with Ease,  
And Murdered Princes too, from Death, can raise.  
We Live, and die, as pleaseth Mr. Bays.  
At one House, I am, by Roxana, slain,  
But see, at this, I am alive again,  
And spite, of all her Cruelty, and rage,  
I Live, am Queen, and Triumph, on the Stage.  
The Godlike Poet, Mortal Actors too,  
Strive thus, with various Skill, to pleasure you,  
They punish, they reward, they kill, they save,  
And all to find out, what 'tis you would have,  
For You— like Gods, like Goddesses you— sit,  
To judge our Actions, and the Poet's wit,  
And 'tis but just, all should to you submit,  
Poets your Drudges, for you form a Play,  
They shape, with artful Words; the senseless Clay,  
And to the Image, a dead form they give,  
But 'tis from you, it must its Life receive,  
You make both Poets, Plays, and Players, Live.  
FINIS.