THE Loyal Brother OR THE PERSIAN PRINCE. A TRAGEDY As it is Acted at the THEATRE ROYAL by their Majesty's Servants. By Thomas Southern.  ay, fuge; sed poteras tutior esse Domi. Mart. 
LONDON, Printed for William Cademan at the Pope's Head in the New Exchange in the Strand, 1682.   

TO HIS GRACE The DUKE of RICHMOND, etc.  
Master of the Horse to His MAJESTY, and Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter.  
SIR,  
WHEN things of this nature are presented to Persons of your high Rank, and Quality; flattery is always supposed the Trade-wind, that carries the Author quite through the Dedication. But my design is wholly to offer to your Grace the first fruits of my Muse, that (when pleasure lives, and serious thoughts come on) I may excuse my folly, by laying my Maidenhead at your Door. Nor durst I have attempted thus far into the World, had not the Laureates own Pen secured me, maintaining the outworks, while I lay safe entrenched within his Lines; and malice, ill nature, and censure were forced to grinn at a distance. If I have not performed my part in this Piece; the excuse of a young beginner will pass with the reasonable part of mankind: but when I look upon your Lordship, and join your Princely Birth, to the early promises of manly Virtue, which you daily give us (if you communicate an influencing beam on me) (as you must shine on all) I dare, without the gift of Prophecy, venture to say, the inspiration may refine my thoughts, to some more worthy offering. Could my vanity carry me to the hopes of succeeding in things of this kind; I am comfident my surest way would be, to draw my Characters from you, in whom the fairest Images of nature are shown in little: Your Royal Father's Greatness, Majestic Awfulness, Wit and Goodness, are promised all in you: Your Mother's conquering Beauty triumphs again in you: Nature has blessed you with a Royal Parentage, and Fortune been just to you, in a Princely Education: And nothing is wanting now to Crown our hopes, but time, to make you in England what Titus was in Rome, the Delight of mankind; which that you may prove, shall ever be the Constant wish of  
SIR, Your Graces most humbly devoted Servant. Thomas Southern.   

THE PROLOGUE.  
POets, like Lawful Monarchs, ruled the Stage,  
Till Critics, like Damned whigs, debauched our Age.  
Mark how they jump: Critics would regulate  
Our Theatres, and whigs reform our State:  
Both pretend love, and both (Plague rot 'em) hate.  
The Critic humbly seems Advice to bring,  
The fawning Whig Petitions to the King:  
But ones advice into a satire slides;  
Tother's Petition a Remonstrance hides.  
These will no Taxes give, and those no Pence:  
Critics would starve the Poet, whigs the Prince.  
The Critic all our troops of friends discards;  
Just so the Whig would fain pull down the Guards.  
Guards are illegal, that drive foes away,  
As watchful Shepherds, that fright beasts of prey.  
Kings, who Disband such needless Aids as these,  
Are safe— as long as e'er their Subjects please.  
And that would be till next Queen Bess' night:  
Which thus, grave penny Chroniclers indite.  
Sir Edmondberry first, in woeful wise,  
Leads up the show, and Milks their Maudlin eyes.  
There's not a Butcher's Wife but Dribs her part,  
And pities the poor Pageant from her heart;  
Who, to provoke revenge, rides round the fire,  
And, with a civil congee, does retire.  
But guiltless blood to ground must never fall:  
There's Antichrist behind, to pay for all.  
The punk of Babylon in Pomp appears,  
A lewd Old Gentleman of seventy years.  
Whose Age in vain our Mercy would implore;  
For few take pity on an Old-cast Whore.  
The Devil, who brought him to the shame, takes part;  
Sits cheek by jowl, in black, to cheer his heart:  
Like Thief and Parson in a Tiburn-Cart.  
The word is given; and with a loud Huzzaw  
They Mitred Moppet from his Chair they draw:  
On the slain Corpse contending Nations fall:  
Alas, what's one poor Pope among 'em all!  
He burns; now all true hearts your Triumphs ring:  
And next (for fashion) cry, God save the King.  
A needful Cry in midst of such Alarms:  
When Forty thousand Men are up in Arms.  
But after he's once saved, to make amends,  
In each succeeding Health they Damn his Friends:  
So God begins, but still the Devil ends.  
What if some one inspir'e with Zeal, should call,  
Come let's go cry, God save him at Whitehall?  
His best friends would not like this over-care:  
Or think him ere the safer for that prayer.  
Five praying Saints are by an Act allowed:  
But not the whole Church-Militant, in crowd.  
Yet, should heaven all the true Petitions drain  
Of Presbyterians, who would Kings maintain;  
Of Forty thousand, five would scarce remain.   

PERSONS REPRESENTED.  

SEliman, the Sophy of Persia. Mr. Goodman  
Tachmas his Brother. Mr. Clark  
Ishmael, a Villainous favourite. Major Moon  
Arbanes, a disaffected General. Mr. Griffin  
Osman, a Captain to Tachmas. Mr. Saunders  
Several Officers.  
Citizens, and their Wives.  
Eunuchs, and Guards.   

WOMEN.  
Begona, Mother to Seliman, and Tachmas. Mrs. Cory  
Semanthe, beloved and in Love with Tachmas. Mrs. Cook  
Sunamire, Sister to Arbanes. Mrs. Guin    
THE Loyal Brother, OR, THE PERSIAN PRINCE.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I. A Chamber of State.  Seliman, Ishmael, Arbanes, Guards, Attendants. Selim. 
MY Lords, our Letters from our Brother show  
The Enemy encamped on Gehun Banks;  
Headed by that brave Tartar, that so long  
Has kept us warm for glory in the field:  
Their Number's fifty thousand, ours but twenty,  
To poise their fate, or turn the Scale of War.  
O glorious odds! and by our Prophet's Soul,  
Worthy imperial Gamesters, worthy us,  
And the renown of this immortal Throne.  Isma. 
Long have these tempests threatened from the North,  
To overturn the fate of Persia,  
And shroud her glories in eternal night:  
But say, my Lords, What has their fury done?  Arban. 
Like Clouds, it vanished at our rising Sun,  
To the renown of royal Seliman:  
Let some report their Conquests to the World:  
They Provinces subdued, but under ground,  
And peopled Graves: They triumphed too, but how?  
In death they triumphed, for they fell by you.  Selim. 
There spoke the Voice of War!  
Yes, we have conquered 'em and shall again,  
Since Tachmas leads our Armies to the field.  
Thrice they the Gehun past, as oft thou know'st,  
Khohemus felt the wounds of Tartar's Swords.  
Where was I than Arbanes? stood I Idle?  
For thou wert my Lieutenant in the War,  
sawst all my actions, therefore best canst speak 'em.  Arban. 
The Grecian eloquence can never paint  
Your Victories; (to mention but the first)  
How then shall I? but my reflecting Soul  
Shows the past Scene of Glory to my view,  
And I can speak a Truth.  Selim. 
You Gods! a Truth?  
I think my actions do disdain a lie  
To speak 'em brave.  Arban. 
Dread Sir, you wrong my meaning.  Selim. 
I am calm, proceed.  Arban. 
A barbarous people, of a rougher clime,  
Invade our Frontiers, burn our Villages,  
Unyoke our labouring Oxen from the Blow,  
Our Flocks destroy, and after them our Hinds:  
The fatal news enters our City Gates,  
And Ispahan appears one face of sorrow!  
The Virgin's shriek, the Matron's fear prevents  
The stroke of war; old Bedrid Age laments  
Its many Winters, or does wish 'em more,  
To have more strength to fight, or less, to die.  
But than you rose, and Fortune could no more:  
War is proclaimed, and you the General.  
Then to have heard your drooping Subjects shout  
To arm, to arms, all to the famous fields,  
The Sophy leads us on, and all must follow;  
By the bright Sun was wonderful indeed.  
Our Virgins, who before stood dumb as death,  
Now sing us on our way: The very Boys  
Act Victory at home: And coward Priests  
In Mosques with prayer battle with the Gods.  
But when we joined the Foe.  Selim. 
Ay than Arbanes!  
Fierce as a Winter Storm upon the Main,  
I ranged the Field; whilst my affrighted Foes,  
Like Billows at the angry Neptune's frown,  
Successively did vanish from my sight.  
Did I not pour upon their foremost ranks,  
Sudden and fierce as lightning, rush among  
Their thickest Squadrons, and in glorious heat  
(Like Thunder breaking from a teeming Cloud)  
Make desolation wait upon my arms?  Isma. 
How vanity distorts him!  [To Arbanes. Selim. 
With my drawn Sword I pointed out the paths  
Of dazzling fame, which none but I could tread;  
Mounting that stately Pyramid alone,  
Whilst all my Army laged, and you below  
Trembled, like Girls, to behold my daring.  Isma. 
Now to fire him.  Selim. 
Nay more; when my too eager courage bore me  
Amidst a band of bold Tartarian horse;  
No guard, but death, that hung upon my Sword  
To make it fatal, say, who brought me off?  
By Mars the single virtue of this Arm  
Dispersed their Troops, and sent 'em from the Field.  Isma. 
So, he beat them all himself.  Arban. 
Great Sir, your Royal Brother claims a share  
In that renowned day.  Selim. 
Arbanes! ha!  Arban. 
But all his glorious actions are your own;  
Since you like streams, from the same Fountain run.  Selim. 
I cannot talk of Fields, of War, or Arms,  
Mention a Siege, or Battle, that I won;  
But I am thought to Boast: I know your Idol;  
You plant my Laurel wreaths on Tachmas brow.  
And would my Crown: By Heaven I know your hearts.  Arban. 
Alha forbid that you should think us Traitors.  Isma. 
He's strangely thoughtful.  Arban. 
O it stings his Soul.  Selim. 
Ishmael thou art honest: dost thou think the Prince—  Isma. 
What of the Prince, my Lord?  Selim. 
Why nothing now:  
'Twas but an Idle thought, and I dismiss it.  Isma. 
Your Royal Mother, with the fair Semanthe  
Intent this way  Selim. 
Then comes the brightest Star, the chastest glory,  
That ever waited on Diana's pride;  
Light without heat, and youth without desire.  
Oh Ishmael! What courage can resist  
The raging torments of a hopeless love?  
'Tis that in spite of all my Victories,  
My past renown, or Soldiers hardiness,  
That drives me, like a Coward, to the ground,  
Breathless, and pale before that scornful beauty.  Isma. 
It goes as I would have it.  [aside Selim. 
Still as I wooed, when at her feet I lay;  
Begging the bounty of a Look to bless me.  
Hadst thou but seen with what a modest pride,  
A Virgin innocence, and chaste reservedness,  
She took the humble offering of my love:  
How still in all the windings of my Passion,  
Through the high-Tide of vows, and strong temptations,  
She kept an equal mind, by Heaven I think,  
Hadst thou then seen the temperate Virgin stand,  
Cold to my flame, as Marble to the Sun,  
(Not flushed, and haughty with her Conquest made,  
As other vainer of her Sex would be)  
Thou wouldst have loved her rigid virtue too.  Isma. 
Take warmer Beauties to your breast, whose heat  
May melt that frozen image of a love.  Selim. 
O thou mistak'st, nothing can drive her hence:  
Her rigorous beauty binds me for her Slave,  
Freezes the wandering current of my love,  
Which did she smile, would loosely glide along  
Into the boundless Ocean of her Sex.  
Were she like other Women to be moved,  
Coming, and forward to believe our Vows,  
To drink our Tears, and melt within our Arms;  
Then I should flight the easy conquered prey:  
But of such different tempers we are framed,  
There's such a contrariety between us,  
Like fighting qualities, each gathers force,  
And as she freezes, I consume, and burn  
With fiercer violence of raging love.  Isma. 
My Lord, she enters.  Enter Begona, Semanthe attended. Selim. 
Hail beauteous Maid! thou leading light of Heaven!  
So near the Sun you shine, so bright your lustre;  
We justly may mistake you for the morn,  
And pay our earlier devotion here.  Seman. 
The Pomp and entertainments of the day  
Speak some high Festival: Perhaps your birth  
Has claimed this Sun a sacrifice to jollity.  
While you the royal Lord,  
Conclude in lavishly bestowing praises.  Selim. 
Take 'em as th' offering of excessive love;  
The meaning of my soul.  Sem. 
As they are meant,  
The effect of gallantry, I take 'em all.  Selim. 
O! how Semanthe? how shall I convince thee?  
What shall I say, or how shall I protest,  
To conquer thy belief?  
couldst thou discern the workings of my soul,  
Pass through this bosom to my throbing heart;  
O! there thou wouldst behold thy heavenly form  
Deep writ, and never be to razed away.  
Why dost thou take the beauties from my Eyes?  
Like the Sun's flower, my folded glories fade  
Perish, and die, unless thou shine upon me.  
Ha! weeping too! what has my passion done?  
O Mother! beg her, on your knees implore,  
Entreat her for your poor offending Son;  
Tell her I kneel, but dare not ask for pardon,  
Lest even then my words should give offence.  Bego. 
O rise my royal Lord! Some secret grief  
Bedews her cheeks, which I could never learn,  
Although I often pressed her to discover.  Enter an Eunuch. Eun. 
An Officer begs admittance from the Prince.  Selim. 
Conduct him in.  Sem. 
Did he not name the Prince? my heart confirms it:  
For I have lost the weight of my afflictions,  
And am within a little world of joy.  Isma. 
Methinks a sudden pleasure overcomes  
Your Mistress' sorrows.  Selim. 
Ha!  Isma. 
Was there aught, in what  
The Eunuch said, to work so quick a change?  Selim. 
Nothing to her— but why that question?  Isma. 
Only a foolish doubt,— but I am satisfied.  Selim. 
The manner of thy speech says not.  Isma. 
Alas! Age in a minute raises scruples,  
That years can't solve; and this perhaps is one.  
But since you tell me she was not concerned  
In what the Eunuch said, I'll give it o'er.  Isma. 
He said, an Officer begs admittance from the Prince.  Selim. 
He did my Lord: and as he named the Prince,  
A sudden joy, like lightning, dried her tears,  
And not a Cloud was seen in that bright Heaven.  Selim. 
Ha! ishmael! thy words have stuned me more,  
Then the united force of heaven could do.  
I fear thy friendship has been fatal to me,  
With an officious eye discovering,  
What, for my peace, had better been concealed.  Enter Osman. Osm. 
Let Persia flourish, and its royal Lord,  
Be ever Master of the Asian World:  
And when fame calls your Armies to the field,  
May Tachmas lead 'em out, and still return  
As now, triumhant home,  
In all the glories of a famous War.  Selim. 
Say, have we conquered then? Relate the means  
How such prodigious odds were overthrown.  Osm. 
Our Armies lay in view; Gehun between  
Gently, as peace, in silver currents streamed,  
Offering her store to quench the flame of War;  
But all in vain: Shouts, Trumpets, drum's,  
In dreadful echoes, bid the battles join:  
We on our guard, and they expecting when  
To pour a purple deluge on our plain.  Sem. 
How my heart beats with fear!  Osm. 
This was our posture; when one solemn morn  
Riot began in the proud Tartar's Tents,  
Nor ended with the Sun, for half the night  
Was given to sporting, luxury, and wine:  
Which, when the Prince perceived; silent, as sleep  
Stole on their reeling senses; forth he drew  
His Army, and at their head he cried,  
If glory be your aim, now follow me:  
Then leapt into the stream,  
And, like a Sea God mounted on a Wave;  
Dashed the strong tide, and lead a floating War:  
Which, when their out guards found, alarmed the Camp;  
But their confusion in a thousand shapes,  
Befriended us; like Cadmus' brood, they fell  
By each others Swords, and made our conquest easy.  Selim. 
By Haly's soul 'twas conduct for a God  
And worth th' experience of an age of arms.  
O! now my Mother! peace is doubly welcome,  
Not only in banishing my people's fears,  
But as the glory of my brother's arms.  Beg. 
Tachmas has copied what your sword first drew:  
You for your Father conquered, he for you.  Selim. 
Said the Prince nothing of 〈…〉?  Osm. 
My speed had been prevented.  
Had not some orders to the Army staid him.  
But too morrows earliest Sun will see him here.  Selim. 
A thousand Tumains for thy welcome news.  Sem. 
Blessings for ever hang upon thy tongue.  Selim. 
Fly then, and through my Kingdoms, loud as fame  
Can speak, proclaim an universal joy:  
Let plenty triumph in our streets, rich presents  
Be shared among our subjects, not a face  
Be seen in sorrow: Grief herself must smile,  
When Seliman appears to Crown the day.  
Let our soft Virgins now no longer mourn,  
But fly to every Meadow, Bower, and Grove,  
Supinely melting on the bed of love:  
For the glad day comes on, that will restore  
Their lovers to their Arms, and to my power,  
Confirm new blessings, ne'er enjoyed before  Exeunt Omnes. Praet. Ith. Arb. Isma. 
‛ Twice have I held the glories of a favourite;  
And swayed the Father once, as now the Son;  
High, as ambition joined with power could raise me.  
Yet blasts have nipped my Summer's blowing pride,  
Withered the glorious blossoms of my hopes,  
And left me leafless to the threatning storms.  Arb. 
When Sophy Cabas ruled, most true my Lord,  
You shared some part of his divided favours:  
But safe in Seliman's breast you sleep secure,  
Far above envy, or a rivals reach.  Isma. 
No, no, Arbanes, no; thou'rt short eyed here:  
There's yet a Cedar, that out-tops my pride;  
That grows too fast, and shades me from the Sun:  
'Tis Tachmas; baneful name to all my hopes,  
Who by the Giant weight of his deserts,  
Presses my fate, and keeps it struggling under.  Arb. 
Ishmael, in that name thou stabbedst my soul  
With the remembrance of my former glory:  
Once I was great; my hopes as flourishing,  
As now declind; my fate erected high  
As victory could raise it; till the Prince,  
That boy, my Scholar in the trade of Arms,  
By treachery despoiled me of those plumes,  
My valour purchased with an Age of War.  Isma. 
Why did you bear it?  Arb. 
Dost thou not know the fate of Soldiers?  
we're but ambitious tools, to cut a way  
To her unlawful ends; and when we're worn,  
Hacked, hewn with constant service, thrown aside  
To rust in peace; or not in Hospitals.  
But tell me, Ishmael! nay feel these limbs,  
These arms, are they passed wielding of a Sword?  
By heaven I think not: or has my good old friend  
Forgot its killing virtue? or has rust  
Bound up its fury? neither; see, it comes,  [draws. 
And feels as keen, and looks as bright, and gay  
As the young Warriors, when he first appears  
In polished steel, and marching to the field.  
Then why am I lain by? why am I not  
A general still?  Isma. 
Ay, there's a question will admit debating.  Arb. 
And not to be decided, till this sword  
Appears in blood again: O Ishmael!  
Thou kind regarder of my fame, I swear,  
Were not thy stricter virtue to inspire  
A generous heat of action in my soul,  
I think 'twould settle almost to dishonour.  
Alas! I was a conscientious fool,  
And durst not think of vengeance: all my wrongs  
Quite blotted from my memory, and lost;  
But now they live again, and by my sword  
Shall be revenged at full.  Isma 
Be calm, and hear me.  Arb. 
Calm! Ishmael! sure thou mockest my patience:  
Why I'm a Pigeon hearted slave, a thing  
So overgrown with that poor sneaking virtue,  
I almost doubt my courage.  Isma. 
Arbanes! know I look upon the Prince,  
As a black Cloud, that rises on my glory;  
I know it, and I hate him more than thou,  
Tho' with less noise, I have no Army lost,  
No titles of the War; 'twas not my province;  
The Court has been my Sphere,  
Where, with the music of my tongue in counsel  
I've charmed opinion after me, been thought  
The voice of fate, and e'er my words could mount,  
The Sophy's ear has stooped to entertain 'em;  
Where I have revealed long, and whence I fear  
No banishment, unless outed by the Prince:  
His merit flows fast as the Sophy's love,  
Which if I aim not wide, like meeting tides,  
May dash my fate, and sink my pride for ever.  
Thus tho' from different lines our wrongs proceed,  
They centre in revenge.  Arb. 
I'll stab him in his triumph.  Isma. 
The policy of Soldiers! here is one  
Can't purchase a revenge, without being handed.  
A Statesman would have found a thousand ways.  
But see, we are disturbed.  Enter Sunamire. Arb. 
My Sister Sunamire alone, and thoughtful!  Isma. 
I know her haughty spirit  
Resents an injury above her sex;  
And has all the contrivance of a woman,  
In working of a revenge: would she was ours.  Arb. 
A plot without a Priest, or woman in't,  
Had been a prodigy.  Isma. 
Let us withdraw, I would unseen observe her.  Sun. 
Tachmas to morrow to return, and therefore  
Through Ispahan a general joy: goes it not there!  
O tortures! furies! hell! ay, that's the cause:  
No, Sunamire must curse his crowding triumphs:  
And when he comes, my wishes be his welcome:  
But if I must behold him; may these Eyes,  
These Eyes that wanted fire to warm his heart,  
Flash fierce as Basilisks, and dart him dead.  Isma. 
Yet nigher—  [To Arbanes. Sun. 
Not that my fondness does exceed the bounds  
Of a Court Lady; no, I can except  
whate'er a score of fond protesting things,  
In all their height of gallantry can say,  
And the next minute part with 'em for ever,  
If that were all: but to be scorned! that that's  
The hell of hells, the plague of woman kind!  Isma. 
Arbanes! said she not scorned?  Arb. 
She did.  Sun. 
Had I been born of vulgar parentage,  
Then unobserved I might retire, and in  
Some corner melt my sorrows into tears:  
But here at Court,  
Where each apartment is a Theatre,  
And all the World observers of our follies,  
For me to whine a tedious Scene of love,  
Is beyond patience: let my fancy work—  Isma. 
O now she's on the rack!  Sun. 
Ay, now the presence fills, I see the Prince  
In the bright circle, like a charmer stand,  
With all the beauties of the East around him:  
I hear his melting language, hear his Court,  
His soft Addresses, and his sighing Love;  
Whilst my false senses, flattering my despair,  
Whisper through every Mansion of my soul,  
To Sunamire they're meant, they're meant to me:  
Then, than I can no longer bear the thought;  
My eager joy works outward on my cheeks,  
And every eye observes my wild concern:  
At which the Ladies laugh, and I too late  
The cause percieving, blushing fly the room,  
To mourn my past disgrace— My brother here!  Arb. 
Sister I've heard your story, and am glad  
That your revenge points at the man I hate.  Isma. 
Long have, I waited time, and now it comes,  
The Golden minute comes, that offers us  
A safe revenge, but mounted on the wing:  
Say Sunamire, Arbanes, shall it pass  
Unheeded like the common births of time?  Sun. 
Why is it made a question? you are wronged,  
Else why revenge? If so, why trifle you  
The hours in talk? but coward man would cool,  
Did not the shame, or public tongue provoke him,  
More than the sense of honour, to revenge.  Isma. 
O! you have raised a dire, provoking thought,  
Would make a timorous Anchorite fearless,  
Run to the fatal steel, and stab his Prince:  
Arbanes! now he dies, a thousand wrongs  
Cry in the voice of Murder, for revenge:  
Thine, mine.—  Arb. 
But what more sensibly does touch me,  
Is his proud scorn of thee.  Sun. 
Brother, that word  
Would paint shame for ever on my brow:  
But my fired spirit mounts; and if I blush again,  
Think it the scarlet trapping of my rage.  Arb. 
'Twas like my sister spoke.  Isma. 
You know the Sophy's of a nature hot,  
Vain, and ambitious; yet withal most pliant,  
And easy for the flatterer to mould  
To any form; so Jealous of his glory,  
That when you but opposed the Prince's merit,  
Ambition broke through all the bonds of love,  
And shot his fiery soul out of his Eyes.  Arb. 
I marked, and hoped for wonders from his passion:  
But Hell! too soon he cooled.  Isma. 
And things that soon cool, are soonest heated.  
'Tis not a sudden overflowing passion,  
But a just tide of rage, in ebbs, and flows,  
Must perfect a revenge: and though his virtues  
A while suppress his fears, yet they will rise,  
Engendering doubts, distrusts, and jealousies,  
Which of themselves will ne'er be conjured down,  
But with the fall of him, who first begot 'em.  
We must foment his passion for Semanthe,  
Since that conduces most to our design.  Sun. 
How that my Lord?  Isma. 
With my continual praises of her beauty,  
I've blown his fame to such a raging height,  
That now he'd brook a partner in his throne,  
Rather than in her heart.  Sun. 
Alas! unrivalled he may keep that seat:  
And if the beauties of the Persian Crown,  
Did not attract beyond Semanth's charms,  
Sure even in that he might unenvied be.  Isma. 
Tachmas thinks otherwise.  Sun. 
Ha! named you Tachmas?  Isma. 
Madam, I did the Prince.  Sun. 
'Tis false;  
Or if you did, yet falser, if you say  
He casts one thought away upon Semanthe.  Isma. 
Madam, let this speak for me; 'tis his hand,  
And to Semanthe written.  [Gives her a Letter. Sun. 
The burning Fever rages in my veins,  
But hold my heart, restrain the fury in,  
Which heaves me, like the fighting winds for vent.  
One question more, and like the stormy God,  
I'll let you lose, to act it as you please,  
To shake me into Atoms, tear my brain,  
With a distraction that becomes revenge.  Arb. 
She raves already.  Sun. 
My Lord! how came this Letter to your hands?  Isma. 
The Prince's goodness wisely chose my Age,  
To be his confident in these amours;  
And knowing me unfit for fiercer joys,  
Thinks I still love the sport, and therefore makes me  
The go-between between, the pander to their loves.  
And I think I have so much of my office right,  
To hasten on their ruins. True, I make bold  
To taste their letters to 'em, as they pass  
Through my employment (for to me they're all  
Enclosed) what serve my ends, I keep, the rest  
I am most faithful in delivering.  Sun. 
Still he goes on, and every sound more soft,  
Tender, and melting than the former: hell!  
And to Semanthe all! O I could tear  
Myself, them, you, and all the world, like this  
Dumb piece of love; lose him to her! to her!  
A poor, young, actless, indigested thing,  
Whose utmost pride can only boast of youth,  
And innocence; whose Stature speaks her mind,  
And what fate meant her, a Plebeian Wife;  
Whilst my erected head was raised to give  
A fuller Majesty to Crowns; my years  
(Rich with the Summer bloom of riper joys)  
Designed fit offerings to the God of love:  
But now no more:  
Since I am scorned, my nobler thoughts aspire  
To glorious actions, worthy female ' ire:  
Revenge, and death, and blood my working fancy fire.  [Exit. Isma. 
Arbanes after her; cool her if thou canst,  
Or storm her into calmness.  [Exit. Arbanes. Enter Ishmael Solus. Isma. 
Virtue avaunt! to villages be gone:  
But haunt the luxury of Courts no more;  
Much less aspiring statesmen's nobler thoughts.  
Ambition is our Idol, on whose wings  
Great minds are carried only to extremes;  
To be sublimely great, or to be nothing:  
And he who aims his actions at this mark,  
Must rush with Manly resolution on,  
Stopping at nothing when he has begun;  
Still pass the shortest way, although untrod,  
Not loiter in the beaten, honest road:  
But let our Masters watch the heights we soar:  
A Statesman's Loyalty is growing power,  
And we but watch occasion to devour.  [Exit.   

ACT. II.  

SCENE I.  Tachmas Triumph ushered in by Drums, and Trumpets; and answered by Flutes, Hoe-boys, and voices from the other side of the Stage: Seliman meets Tachmas with a full Court. Selim. 
WElcome thou worthy partner of my fame!  
From the rich Harvest of thy glorious toil,  
Welcome my General, my Friend, and Brother!  
Why art thou backward in thy part of Friendship?  
Rise to my breast, for my impatient heart  
Awaits thee there; my Arms thus fold thee in,  
Thus press thee to my Soul, where thou wilt meet  
A thousand Welcomes more than words can give thee.  Tach. 
O my Imperial Lord! my Godlike Master!  
How has your Servant merited this Grace?  
Permit me prostrate on the Earth to fall,  
And pay my Adoration to this goodness.  Selim. 
I Swear it must not be. Brother, I read  
A longing in our gracious Mother's eye;  
She claims your knee, and duty.  Tachmas kneels to Begona. Arb. 
Why all your projects are a ground already;  
The Sophy dotes upon the Prince.  Isma. 
Be patient:  
His kindness is as short lived, as his anger.  Bego. 
Thou second blessing, which the Gods enriched  
My fruitful youth with, comfort of my age,  
Our lives preserver, welcome from the War  
Welcome to me, and Ispahan.  Tach. 
Is there a Joy in Victory beyond  
My Mother's safety? protecting her, you Gods!  
Has overpaid the little I have done;  
My hours of blood, and I am still your debtor.  Bego. 
Now I could bless these powers, that lengthened out  
My date of life, to this most happy day;  
Once more to view the ancient Persian glory  
Shine out in these, my Sons; once to behold  
The face of things serene, and fair again;  
The fruits of peace brooding through all the Land,  
And plenty smiling upon every brow:  
This as the Mother of my Country, but  
The Spirit of my joy's reserved for you,  
My Sons; or let me call you by a nearer name,  
Myself; thus to behold you meet in friendship;  
To have my blood, although in different veins,  
Flow in one stream of love; and what's yet more,  
Tho' Empire stands between, like a huge rock,  
To break the current, and divide you ever.  
O! let it be my glory now, my Sons!  
To seal the bands of friendship, you have tied,  
To bless you thus, thus, in each others Arms,  
And as a worthy Sacrifice, to offer  
My stock of breath in Prayers for both your welfares.  Ambo. 
Long live thou best of Mothers!  Selim. 
And mark me all my people; nay sound our Trumpets  
To yond bright roof, and summon all the Gods,  
As witnesses to this great Stygian vow.  
By the Eternal Godhead of the Sun,  
I glory more that I can call thee mine,  
My Friend, and Brother, than in wearing Crowns.  Tach. 
Gods! if there be a possibility  
To speak my thanks; but that's impossible:  
Or if there be a way to gratitude,  
Direct me to't, tho' certain death attend  
Me every step, I'll on to serve the King.  Selim. 
I know thou wouldst, yet Tachmas! O my Brother!  
Great as I am in Arms,  
Tho' I have Conquered through the Asian world,  
And thou maintain'st my glory in the field;  
Still there is wanting to complete my bliss,  
Semanthe's love;— but that wise Heaven denies me,  
To show I am but man: For had the Gods  
Granted me her, with this vast space of Empire,  
I'd been their equal: not envied 'em the joys,  
They boast above, nor had a thought of heaven  
Beyond her beauty.—  
But private cares must not usurp this day.  
Lead to the banquet; all must be our guests,  
'Tis Seliman invites you.  Exeunt Omnes, Praeter Ishmael, Semanthe. Ism. 
Madam I know the Prince's soul abhors  
These forms, and ceremonies, that detain  
Him from your arms.  
I have not time to open all my thoughts;  
I must attend the king: only prepare,  
If any storm should fall, to scape its fury.  (Exit. Sem. 
Alas! what storm? and how should I beware?  
What lover ever yet foresaw a danger?  
The God himself is blind, and all that love,  
In midnight darkness to his temple move;  
Like a tossed bark at Sea, the Pilot gone,  
I'm left exposed to winds, and waves alone,  
And rocks on every hand to split upon:  
Yet there is one part fair in view, where I  
The fortune of my life, and love will try,  
My Tachmas' Arms, where I will live, or die.  [Exit.  

SCENE a Street.  Enter Citizens with their Wives. 1 Cit 
HOt work, Neighbours, very hot work; Bells ringing, bonfires flaming, Crackers flying. Conduits running, Engines playing, and Butts of Wine tossing about, like Church buckets in a fire.  2 Cit 
Ay, ay; 'twill be a day of service; therefore I think it convenient our leaky vessels be lain by.  Omnes, 
Agreed, agreed.  1 Cit 
Yes Doxies, you must troop home like obedient Wives, and expect us as soon as we in our royal pleasure shall think fit to follow.  1 Wom. 
O but Husband! We have not seen the Fire works.  2 Wom. 
And we never saw Fireworks since we were married.  1 Cit 
And now for the honour of Matrimony, you would meet with some red nosed, engineering Corporal, and be squibed for company.  2 Wom. 
Besides 'tis a Holiday, and Citizens Wives should be abroad on Holi-days.  1 Wom. 
The King has proclaimed it, and it may be Treason to go home before night.  1 Cit 
We your Representatives in the body politic, will stay till morning, and be loyally drunk for the King.  1 Wom. 
And we your Ciphers (if we can find any civil Gentlemen, as loyally affected, as ourselves) will do something else for the King before morning.  Omn. Wom. 
So farewell husbands.  [Exeunt Women. 1 Cit 
So, now we have the day before us.  2 Cit 
The fear of Cuckoldom is removed, and we will be most obediently drunk at the King's charges.  Omnes, 
Away, away, we lose time.  [Ex. shooting. God bless the King. Enter Soldiers drunk with the former Women. 1 Sold. 
The day is our own, the Town surrenders, and I must ravish.  1 Wom. 
O Lord! Sir! I am married.  1 Sold. 
And I am a Cuckold-maker.  1 Wom. 
O! but the sin of adultery is a double sin.  1 Sold. 
And I love double sinning with all my heart: 'tis a method we Soldiers use to cheat the Devil in counting: Fornication! Pox! 'tis boy's play, and Gownsmen preach against it; but justify the reasonableness of Adultery by their own example.  [He touzes her, while the others speak. 2 Sold. 
S'buds! a Months pay is  
Nothing to thee: I could kiss thee to pieces.  2 Wom. 
Well; if my husband knew of the ill customs you bring into his family, he'd look as terrible—  2 Sold. 
As a pair of horns can make him: but hang him Cuckold that must be, I never fear an enemy, when I have won his Trenches. Come, come; faith you must, faith you must— ha!  Enter former Citizens drunk, and singing, the women shrick, and run out, the Soldiers after 'em. 1 Cit 
Our Counters rifled! our Wives ravished, and we in the state of Cuckoldom again! I am drunk, desperate, and can fight for the honour of my vocation, and confusion of Cuckold-makers.— Scour, scour, scour.—  [Exeunt.  

SCENE changes to the Palace.  Enter Ishmael with several Lords. Isma. 
My Lords! I never can enough return  
This Kingdoms thanks, for making him your care,  
Who is the life, and being of us all:  
Tachmas! the general wish of Persia!  
The people's longing, and the Courtier's soul!  
With what an eagerness the Sophy flew  
To meat your loves, and e'er you could demand him,  
Resigned the Provinces of greatest trust  
Through his Dominions, to his brother's care!  Lord. 
My Lord! his strange behaviour at the banquet,  
His start of passion, and abrupt departure,  
Provokes our wonder.  Isma. 
Trust my experience in the Sophy's humour:  
The eye of time has seen him through, and through;  
Traced him through every temper of his soul,  
And shown him naked to my strictest view:  
And from my observation of his youth,  
Up to his riper years, I dare affirm  
His soul enriched with all those qualities,  
That can endear a Monarch to the world.  
— But see, he comes: within this hour, my Lords,  
I'll wait you in th' apartment of Semanthe,  
Where I have something to propose; that may  
Advantage the design.  Lord. 
We will not fail.  [Exeunt. Ism. 
To lose your heads, if you be there.  Enter Seliman. Selim. 
Why is my temper shaken with each breath  
Of fleeting air, that's formed into voice?  
Why have I not an equal mastery  
Over my passions, with the rest of men?  
The Court is in an uproar with my follies  
Exposed in public; all my Friends stand mute  
Before me, not a Counsellor that dares  
Advise me, even flattery is dumb.  
— I'll curb this folly.— Ha! Ishmael here!  Isma. 
I find the poison works; I'll show myself.  Selim. 
My fit returns, and all my promises  
Vanish at sight of him: a thousand doubts  
Start in my soul, and pressed to be resolved  
From his oraculous tongue.— Yet why shoued I  
Rashly endanger all my future peace,  
To be inquisitive in that, may prove  
A lasting torment, and at best can give  
But what I had before?— I will retire,  
And so conceal my weakness,— yet that were  
But to betray it the more.—  Isma. 
Great Sir! to press upon your thoughtful hours,  
May prove my crime, 'tis fit I wait at distance.  Selim. 
No Ishmael!  
Nothing of moment entertains my thoughts:  
Only some few reflections on my late  
Deportment at the Banquet.  Isma. 
The cause was sure important, that could shock  
Your temper so, and in that general Joy.  Selim. 
The cause Ishmael! as thou lov'st my peace,  
Stop there; tho' much I fear thou'st gone too far:  
Thou'st ignorantly touched a jarring string,  
That quite untunes the orders of my soul:  
And all the rules of temperance I proposed,  
I shall leap o'er, if thus thou urge me on  
A second time.  Isma. 
How Sir have I offended?  Selim. 
Thy questions still drive on to that discourse,  
That most offends me.  Isma. 
Better I never spoke, than give you trouble.  Selim. 
It were indeed.— Nay thou must bear with me;  
I know thou wilt, Ishmael! therefore speak,  
And let thy thoughts flow freely to thy tongue;  
As to my ear thy words. Is not Semanthe  
All can be wished in woman?— Ha! Not answer!  Isma. 
I dare not, I shall give you a new disturbance.  Selim. 
O now thou art too hard upon my follies:  
I know this theme provoked me at the banquet,  
And truths in public are resented,  
Which meet a fair reception in our closerts.  Isma. 
Then I dare speak my thoughts: if I respect  
Semanthe, as the Goddess of your vows,  
As one, raised by the merit of your love;  
Then I must think the virtues of her Sex,  
(For sure she has the beauties) meet in her:  
But if as merely woman I esteem her,  
Allied to imperfections, subject to  
Temptations, which her beauties will invite,  
And years allow off, with that tide of Youth  
Swelling through every vein, sparkling desires,  
And circulating wishes to her heart:  
Pardon the freedom of my own experience,  
I think this fruit, that ripens on the bough,  
And mellows in the Sunshine of the Court,  
Must somewhere fall.  Selim. 
A thousand thoughts prey on my tortured soul,  
And whirling fancy turns my senses round:  
— Yet stay— 'twas reason all he uttered to me,  
And solid sense; and may perhaps be true.  
Semanthe is a woman;  
And who can fathom that deceitful Sex?  
But by the flaming God, that rides above,  
Had I a circumstance, a show of truth,  
I would not only drive the Sorceress hence,  
But sink her lover in the shades for ever.  Isma. 
My Lord! knowing your violent passion  
For Semanthe, and her unnatural coldness;  
Hoping to find the cause of all, by bribes  
I wrought upon a slave in trust, who told me,  
How she in private entertains a lover.  Selim. 
In private sayst thou? sure it cannot be:  
She! who like April months, still wept, and shone,  
Whose not one beauty was without a tear,  
Is she, Hell! Furies! Fiends! and Plagues! Unchaste?  Isma. 
My Lord—  Selim. 
She is, by Hell she is;  
For all the tears she shed, were liquid fire,  
Hot scalding bubbles of descending lust,  
As jupiter, reigned down on Danae.  Isma. 
The Gods can witness for me, I believe  
Semanthe chaste; as the untainted thoughts  
Of infancy;  
Yet she is a woman; and the nicest sure,  
That makes her modesty her boasted pride,  
May, when solicited with earnest vows  
Of honourable love, without a crime  
Believe, where her own fancy prompts her.  Selim. 
What honourable love can story boast,  
Through the recorded pages of the dead,  
Equal to mine? in all my flame of love,  
When wild desires beat thick upon my soul,  
And power (the countenance of greatest crimes)  
Urging me on, nay when my boiling blood  
Has blushed to see me, for a woman's coyness,  
Forgo my pleasures; not even then I swear,  
Had I a look, a thought beyond her virtue.  Isma. 
I need not name your Brother, when I speak  
Your Rival master of the charms of youth,  
Beauty, and courage; nay more than these: one learned:  
In the soft way of melting Ladies hearts,  
So artful in the story of his passion,  
That sure no woman can resist his tongue,  
More than his enemy his sword in battle.  Selim. 
O! 'tis impossible!  Isma. 
By Heaven 'tis true; 'tis the alone  
Resolves the frosty weather in her soul;  
And warms her into wishes.  Selim. 
Then be forgotten ever  
The ties of blood, friendship, and humanity;  
You're empty names, and perish all in him,  
No more my brother, but the worst of villains.  
I could behold him seated in my throne,  
Disposing Crowns, and Kingdoms through the East,  
And pardon his ambition: but my love.—  Isma. 
He needs no pardon, who offends with power:  
And should the Prince with a strong hand maintain  
His passion to the world; nay ease your brow  
Of the Imperial load; who can oppose him?  
All offices are his, your sword is his,  
To be employed against your royal life;  
If gratitude permit: and who is he,  
In the wild transports of ambitious thoughts,  
And tossing on the billows of desire,  
That for a nicety of good, or ill,  
Would quit the joys of Beauty, and a Crown?  Selim. 
No more Ishmael! tell me when, and where  
I may behold 'em: let thy working brain  
But guide me to the place.—  Isma. 
That this does;  [showing a Key. 
This Key discloses to you the whole Scene  
Of their forbidden loves: within this hour  
They meet again in her Apartment, where  
You may surprise 'em.  Selim. 
Attend me at that time.  
O I could curse my foolish, easy nature!  
— But I am calm as yet,  
The figure of my fury's lifeless drawn;  
Rude, and unlike to what it shall be.  
O! thou shalt see the mending of my rage:  
The manly dashes of stronger passion  
Shall paint the face of my revenge so ghastly,  
Nature shall start affrighted at the piece,  
And cry the work's not mine.  [Exit. Isma. 
Full charged, and like a thunder bolt, destructive,  
The Sophy flies to all that shall oppose him:  
— Tachmas will stand between him, and Semanthe;  
— But Seliman must pass through Tachmas to her:  
'Tis so resolved, and stands like Heavens fixed poles!  
Come furies all, whip up my sleeping envy,  
Lash the lean, haggard Fiend, and make her foam;  
Lend me your scorpions, reach the poisonous bowl,  
That the green gall may stain my venomed blood,  
And my infection raise a mad combustion.  
Then from the Port I will behold the Storm,  
And laugh at ruins, that my plots perform.  [Exit.  

SCENE Semanthe's Apartment.  Enter Tachmas, Semanthe, Lords. Tach 
O! why Semanthe, why these falling tears?  
I swear, my Love, not the last drops of life  
Just flowing from my heart, are dearer to me,  
Than those rich pearls, that trickle from thy Eyes.  
What on this joyful day! it must not be:  
Give me thy griefs, pour all thy sorrows here,  
Here in my breast, and pant within my arms:  
Tho' fortune frown, and every star conspire,  
Yet we may love, Semanthe!  Sem. 
O my Lord!  
What Sun shall see you mine? Is there no power  
Assisting to our love?  Tach. 
My dearer self!  
Let no sad thought poison this happy hour,  
The Gods have sent us to begin our joys.  
No, my Semanthe! we will never part:  
For ever thus, thus in each others arms,  
Ages shall see us flourish.  Sem. 
Yes you shall  
For ever be believed; for my poor heart  
Would fain be sonded with the hopes of rest.  
Yet there is something here presages ill:  
Were our love's Scene a blissful, sylvan Grove,  
And we, the happy tenants of its shade;  
An humble rural pair, to all unknown,  
Placed beneath Fortune's aim, we might be blessed.  
But Oh! the storms, and tempests of a Court,  
The Rocks, the Quicksands, and tossing Seas,  
That love must venture through to gain its port,  
Foil the most resolute powers of my soul.  Enter Seliman unseen with Ishmael, and Arbanes. Selim. 
There needs no more; Ishmael, you retire,  
Whilst Arbanes attends me.  [Exit. Ishmael. Sem. 
You know the Sophy long has sought my love;  
And tho' I swear I never will be his,  
Nor change the passion I have vowed you long,  
For more than earth can give, or heaven bestow;  
Yet, O my Lord! my fears are great for you:  
What horrid consequence, what rash effect  
Of wildest fury ought we not to dread  
From him, who when he knows his happy rival,  
Has power to execute his fatal will?  Tach. 
No my Semanthe! we are now secure  
From all the darts of Fortune: these my friends,  
Soon as I march to my new Government,  
Shall be your guard, and privately convey you  
To Georgia, which Province your brave Father  
Had governed long, and but with death resigned:  
'Tis now within my power, and I doubt not  
At sight of you, but we shall have those friends  
To join our cause, that my enable us  
To justify our loves.  Lords. 
In the public name,  
We lay our lives, and fortunes at your feet,  Selim. 
O! man me reason;  
Restrain the sallies of my starting passion,  
Which else will plung me in the gulf of madness.  Sem. 
But if that gloomy minute should approach,  
(Avert it heaven) when I am forced to lose you;  
(Forgive the Virgin fondness of my love)  
Where should your poor Semanthe run for succour?  
Or should I live to mourn your loss for ever?  Tach. 
O stop not here! for ever bless my ears  
With the delightful story of thy love:  
My heart is ravished with excessive joy,  
Leaps in my breast,  
And dances to the music of thy voice.  
O my Semanthe! let me die with rapture,  
Thus sigh my soul out on thy Virgin bosom,  
Thus press thee still, for ever hold thee to me,  
Emplying the hoarded treasure of my love,  
Till life be spent, and I fall pale before thee.  
What shall I say to speak thy wondrous virtue?  
My tongue forsakes me, when I would go on,  
Uncapable to form my dazzling thoughts,  
And I can only gaze, and still admire thee.  Seliman coming forward. Selim. 
Gaze on, devour her all; this looks thy last.  Sem. 
O heavens! we are betrayed.  Selim. 
O wondrous modesty of guilt discovered!  
Ingrateful Slave! I will not stoop to tell thee,  
How thou hast basely wronged thy friend, and brother.  
I did design thy death; but thank the powers,  
That have revived expiring nature in me:  
But fly, be gone to death, or banishment;  
And all the public offices you held  
By our permission, here we take again:  
The general staff, Arbanes, now is thine.  Arb. 
My service best will speak my gratitude.  Selim. 
As Traitors to our Crown, and Life, your Heads  [To the Lords 
Are forfeit to our Laws: but meet ignobler fates.  
Madam, your Sex's folly pleads your cause;  
But think on him no more; learn to forget  
A slave so much unworthy.  
Arbanes, thou attend upon Semanthe,  
And guard her, as thou wouldst thy life, away.  [Exit. Tach. 
If in my better fortune I have ever  
Deserved thy love,  
Grant me a parting minute with Semanthe;  
And in return, my life  
Shall be too short, to show my gratitude.  Arb. 
My Lord! the time requires a short farewell,  
And you must make it so: I know there are  
A thousand tender things for you to say,  
Unfit for me to hear:  
Therefore my Lord, the guards shall wait without.  Exit. with Guards. Tach. 
Now my Semanthe!  Sem. 
O my most loved Lord!  
Support me, for my spirits die within me,  
At the least mention of thy banishment.  Tach. 
Look up my star, my shining happiness;  
Dart through the gloomy Winter of our fortune,  
And smile upon me:  
Let us deceive our miseries a while  
Talk of the joys of love, and never think  
Of parting; grief will come too fast upon us.  Sem. 
Methinks already in some barbarous wild,  
Like a benighted Traveller, I walk;  
Viewing with watery eyes the sinking Sun,  
And night displaying her sad Ensigns round:  
No friendly Village near me, all before.  
A horrid maze of death, without a guide  
To cheer my heavy steps; despair, and death!  
O wilt thou ne'er return to glad my soul,  
And must we never, never meet again!  Tach. 
My souls last treasure! how I part from thee,  
How far above the world, I prize thy love,  
The Almighty searchers of the mind can tell:  
But since irrevocable fate has doomed  
That I must ne'er be happy; O hear my wish  
For thy content, and future peace of mind!  
— It matters not what shall become of me.  
When I am gone for ever from thy sight,  
Forget that wretched Tachmas ever was;  
O! think not on the wretch, for that will grieve thee:  
But give thy love to royal Seliman,  
Give him that Heart, that once was mine; those vows,  
That spotless faith thou gav'st to me: which (since  
'Tis for your peace) you Gods! I here resign;  
Here on this Altar sigh you all away.  [Kissing her hand. Sem. 
O most unkind! why do you use me thus?  
Or would you have me think you never loved,  
That thus you wish me from you?  Tach. 
My love!  
My dearer self! thou miracle of woman!  
For what recorded story ever told  
One of thy Sex so fond of misery?  
Let us live wretched then, and ever love;  
So truly love, that the relenting Gods  
At last in justice may redress our wrongs,  
And bring us safe unto each others arms.  Sun. 
O! if I ever prove untrue to Tachmas;  
May I resign my honour to a slave,  
Be branded a vile, common prostitute,  
And only known by the black marks of shame.  Tach. 
O I could hear thee ever: but thus resolved  
Let's try to part.  Sem. 
O you must first begin;  
For my heart's fond, and sure to say farewell,  
Would break it quite.  Tach. 
Farewell Semanthe! witness all you Gods,  
To you I recommend this weighty charge:  
O guard her innocence, and secure her faith,  
(For sure she will be strongly tempted from me)  
That if our kinder stars should guide me home,  
To these loved arms, our souls may meet in joy.  Sem. 
My heart's exceeding heavy: falling tears  
Dazzle my sight, and won't let me see you:  
O do not leave me yet!  Tach. 
I must be gone:  
If I stay longer we are both undone;  
My Eyes would ever on that object dwell;  
— But we must part— farewell.  Sem. 
Farewell— farewell.  [Exeunt.   

ACT. III.  

SCENE I.  Enter Seliman following Semanthe. Selim. 
THe stubborn rocks are wor'n by pouring floods:  
But you, tho' covered with a constant dew,  
Like weeping marble,  
Give me no hopes, but are as hard as ever.  Sem. 
Learn hope from widowed Turtles,  
Or from the melancholy Philomela,  
Who perched all night alone in shady Groves,  
Tunes her soft voice to sad complaints of Love,  
Making her life one great harmonious wo.  Selim. 
Cannot Pactolus' strand, nor Tagus' stream,  
Nor heaps of Pearl joined with a Persian Crown,  
Bias your thoughts, or poise a Subjects love?  Sem. 
Tho' your wide Empire, with expanded Wings,  
Flew o'er the East, farther than Cyrus led it;  
Tho' the Sun tenanted his course from you,  
And the rich Indian world confessed your sway;  
I would prefer my Tachmas, my loved Lord,  
To all the Pageantries of gaudy power.  
Tachmas! whose name but mentioned, warms my heart;  
Life of my hopes! and charmer of my soul!  Selim. 
You were not formed to run in nature's herd,  
Sultry, and elbowed in the crowd of slaves:  
These matchless beauties should adorn a throne,  
Placed eminently in a shining Orb,  
Dart life, or death in every awful look.  Sem. 
O Tachmas! didst thou know  
How my assaulted faith maintains the field,  
Sure thou wouldst fly to my assistance.  Selim. 
O Madam! taste the pleasures of a Throne:  
The sweets of nature always blow around us:  
Fate cannot reach us:  
The ills she scatters through the Lower world,  
Like Vapours, vanish e'er they gain our height:  
Joys flow untainted from the bounteous Gods,  
Which the poor Subject takes at second hand:  
No noise molests us but what music makes;  
Cool, gentle breezes fan our hotter hours,  
While we look down, and view the sweating world.  
See, at your feet I offer all my greatness,  
My Love, my Life, yet all too little far  
To purchase one dear look, one pitying smile.  Sem. 
O rise my royal Lord! why should you kneel  
To me? why do you hold me thus?  Selim. 
Why dost thou turn away?  Sem. 
I must be gone.  Selim. 
What! not a look! not one dear smile, to cheer  
My famished love, my sad despairing heart!  
But my too happy rival will dispense  
With this— thus, thus I print my soul  Kissing her hand she breaks from him. 
Ha! go so soon! nay then 'tis time to speak:  
By all the pangs of love, if thus you leave me,  
Thus tortured with the violence of my passion,  
Your Lover's blood alone shall quench my rage.  Sem. 
Ah! where shall constancy meet a reward?  
Where shall that poor, abandoned virtue fly?  
For her 'tis persecuted to undoing.  Selim. 
'Tis not his banishment that shall suffice:  
That I applied, as a safe remedy,  
In hopes you would forget him by degrees:  
But since I find th' infection spreads upon you,  
I must be quick, and snatch the sharpest cure:  
And since he only bars my happiness,  
His death shall guide me on my way to bliss.  [Exit. Sem. 
O leave me not with that destructive sound!  
My Lord! Oh stay! O hear me, ere you go:  
— He's gone, and may perhaps intend it too:  
Ah! No; Hyrcanian Tigers would not hurt my Love:  
— But a revengeful, furious Rival may.  
Tachmas and death! O keep 'em distant Heaven!  
For like destroying Planets, if they meet,  
My ruine's certain: Some God inspire my mind,  
In this wide maze of death, a path to find,  
That leads me to the means, how I may save  
My Love; or that, that leads me to my Grave.  [Exit.  

SCENE changes to the Country.  Enter Osman with several Officers. Osm. 
FAr hence he cannot be;  
And by the Villages description,  
It must be the Prince, they saw.  1 Offi. 
'Tis strange that misery should be so silent:  
The birds in mournful Notes should share his griefs,  
Each Grove should echo the sad accents back,  
And every bark contain the fatal story.  2 Offi. 
Let's separate; he cannot scape our search.  [Exeunt. Enter Tachmas. Tach. 
Greatness (the earnest of malicious fate  
For future woe) was never meant a good;  
Baited with gilded ruin, 'tis cast out  
To catch poor easy man.  
What is't to be a Prince?  
To have a keener sense of our misfortunes:  
That's all our wretched gain.  
The Vulgar think us happy; and at distance,  
Like some famed ruinous pile, we seem to flourish:  
But we, who live at home, alone can tell  
The sad disquiets, and decays of peace,  
That always haunt the dwelling.  
O ambition!  
How strangely dost thou charm the minds of men!  
That they will choose to starve on mountain tops,  
Rather than taste the plenty of the Valerius  
Had my kind stars designed my fortune here;  
Bred among Swains, with my Semanthe by me,  
The conquering beauty of some neighbouring village;  
What Ages of content might I have passed,  
Till time had quenched both Life, and Love together?  
But O! I never more must think of peace:  
Semanthe's gone for ever: O Semanthe!  [Exit. Reenters with Officers. Tach. 
Come to my Arms, my Warriors! these are they  
Who in the piercing Winter of our fortune.  
Cling to our sapless sides, and keep us warm.  
Once more let me endear you to my heart:  
And now, my friends, part we like Soldiers here;  
All to our several fates: fight for the King,  
As I have done, and may your services  
Be better paid.  Osm. 
Oft have we seen fate hovering o'er our Camp,  
In all the bloody horrors of a War;  
Nor have we left our General at the view:  
And shall we here desert him basely? here?  
Where only hunger, or some trivial want,  
(Which war has turned to nature in us) threatens?  1 Off. 
Fate could not part our fortunes in the War,  
Nor shall she now.  Osm. 
Were those soft slaves of lechery, and ease,  
To head an Army; those who thus have wronged you:  
How would they voice it o'er and o'er for Tachmas  
To come, and blunt the edge of War again!  2 Off. 
Base natures always hate, where they're obliged.  Enter Arbanes with a Guard. Arban. 
My Lord! I come empowred to take  
You Prisoner, as Traitor to the State.  Tach. 
A Traitor!  
Prithee forbear me that, and I resign  
Myself to justice up, without the stain  
Of thy black blood upon my innocence.  Arb. 
I come not here to talk.  Osm. 
There's not a Life here,  
Which fondly you esteem within your power,  
But must be sold at dearer rates of blood,  
Than you, and all your crowd of guards can pay.  Tach. 
Yet hold, my generous friends! I must not thus  
By disobedience to my King's command,  
Rashly forgo my glory: if he think fit  
To take my life, or make it yet more wretched;  
My loyalty ties up my forward Sword,  
And teaches silently to suffer all.  
And now a long farewell: live to enjoy  
A better fortune in your Prince's favour.  [Exit. with Arbanes. 1 Off. 
Let's to the Army,  
Where noble souls will not be wanting to  
Assist our cause, and turn the Prince's fate.  Osm. 
I'll to Court,  
Where if kind Fortune favour my designs,  
I may prove serviceable.  [Exeunt severally.  

SCENE the Palace.  Enter Seliman, Ishmael. Selim. 
SInce fate has put the Traitor in my power;  
My justice shall have Wings.  Isma. 
The harmless beast bows to the sacred Knife,  
But 'tis to keep off thunder from our crimes,  
And to make friends in heaven: but what? Oh! what  
Can you propose by taking Tachmas Life?  
Thus you not only throw your shield away  
From your unguarded Head, but do incite  
The long forbearance of the Gods against you.  Selim. 
Has he not dared my Crown, as well as Love?  
Has he not stolen into My Army's hearts?  
Nay more, when I had banished him my Court,  
Has he not countenanced Rebellion in  
My disaffected Captains?  
All this thou know'st, and yet wouldst have me spare him.  Isma. 
Only great Sophy, as he is your Brother:  
For by the Gods were he a private man,  
My Sword should reach the Villain in his heart:  
But as he is the Prince, your People's Idol,  
And one that shares your blood, you may forgive.  Selim. 
Since he is Great, and makes my Crown his aim,  
A politic justice does persuade his death:  
A Bramble ne'er can spring up to a Cedar;  
But a tall Pine, upon a Mountain's top,  
May grow my Rival, and perhaps o'er look me.  
He dies to night, by the bright God he does:  
A Scaffold shall the Traitor's Head receive;  
And public justice send him to his Grave.  [Exit. Isma. 
Because I seem for Tachmas, therefore I love him;  
Thus he concludes; but the illation's false,  
As he might Guess by my faint Rhetoric:  
I would as loathe obtain the suit I move for,  
As Lawyers bribed against the cause, they plead:  
— But thus I'm unsuspected of his death.  
— O! there's the pleasure, so to work the crowd,  
That their best thoughts, may Crown our villainies,  
And frame us honest even in the act of mischief.  Enter Sunamire to him. Sun. 
Thus far success has led our Plots along,  
And expectation been paid with interest:  
But should these fail (which would be vain to fear).  
My teeming brain holds a Minerva still,  
That with unerring mischief would supply me.  Isma. 
Madam, there needs no more; with wondro us skill  
You've raised the antic machine up, and now  
Moved by an inward power, 'twill act alone:  
Whilst we, like Sailors tacking for the wind,  
Mount on the deck at last, with full blown sails  
Drive onward to our Port, and proudly ride  
On dancing billows down the foaming.  Sun. 
How are my spirits haunted by revenge?  
— But I can more sustain:  
Nay, stab this breast, to plague my happy Rival,  
And that rash scorner of my proffered love.  Isma. 
Semiramis no more shall be adored  
In Story; female spirit never mentioned more:  
But Sunamire shall fill the checks of fame,  
And in the roll of women be the leading name.  Sun. 
The hour grows big with fate.— but let's away,  
And place a guard on every courtier's Eye,  
As Seamen watch in storms th' inconstant Sky.  [Exeunt.  

The SCENE drawn shows Tachmas on a Scaffold, Guards, Spectators, etc.  Tach. 
DEath we should prize, as the best gift of nature;  
As a safe Inn, where weary Travellers,  
When they have journied through a world of cares,  
May put off Life, and be at rest for ever;  
If 'twere in private, void of Pomp, and show:  
But groans, and weeping friends, and ghastly blacks  
Distract us with their sad solemnity:  
The preparation is th' Executioner:  
For death unmasked shows us a friendly face,  
And only is a terror at a distance:  
For as the Line of Life conducts us on  
To this great Court, the prospect shows more fair.  
'Tis nature's hospital, that's always open  
To take us in, when we have drained the sweets  
Of life, or worn our days to Age, or wretchedness.  
Then why should I delay? or fondly fear  
To embrace this soft repose, this last retreat?  
I? who like blossoms withering on the bough,  
Died in my birth, and almost was born old.  Enter Seliman, Ishmael, Arbanes, Attendants. Isma. 
Yet Sir! turn back; although a criminal,  
He is your brother; and to see him bleed,  
(So gentle is the temper of your soul)  
Will raise your very thoughts in Arms against you:  
Nature and Justice, like contending tides,  
Will drive you from the calmness of your mind:  
And what the consequence may be; how fatal  
To your peace, none knows, but all should dread:  
Therefore, my Lord, I beg you.—  Selim 
Urge no more:  
I tell thee Ishmael, I'll stand unmoved,  
Behold him fall a purple sacrifice  
To my Ambition; and my injured Love,  
As unconcerned, as 'twere a common fate.  Tach. 
Although sufficient reasons urge my death;  
Yet, O great Sir! I never could imagine  
It would rejoice you to behold me bleed:  
Here I confess you have outgone my thoughts.  Arb. 
By hell I read concern i'th' Sophy's looks:  Isma. 
He'll never stand it out.  Tach. 
Yet ere this fleeting being disappears;  
Before I leave the world, let me avow  
The loyalty, and firmness of my soul,  
Before this presence, to imperial power.  
And by th' expectance of eternal rest  
To all my past calamities, in death;  
By all the thousand longings of my soul,  
Now at my parting minute; O! I swear,  
That through my Life, in all the Fields I fought,  
And conquered in your cause, I never bled  
With more content, and satisfaction  
(When crimson conquest clasped me in her arms,  
And lawreled triumphs welcomed my return)  
Than now I empty all the springs of Life,  
Open each vein, and as the last great due)  
Offer the scarlet treasure of my heart,  
In dread obedience to your high command.  Selim. 
'Tis rebel Nature factions in my breast;  
But 'tis resolved, I am not to be moved.  Tach. 
Since Fate ordained Semanthe's charms to be  
The fatal prize of our contending Loves;  
Since I must lose her; with my latest breath,  
That sacred Relic of my soul, that all  
The Riches, Empire, that my heart rejoiced in,  
I here resign to your eternal care.  
O take her Sir! and be for ever blessed,  
Be blessed far far above all humane thought;  
For endless joys are in that Heaven of Love.  
A thousand Cupids dance upon her smiles,  
Young, bathing Angels wanton in her Eyes,  
Melt in her looks, and pant upon her breasts;  
Each word is gentle, as a Western breeze,  
That fans the infant bosom of the spring,  
And every sigh more Rosy than the morn:  
— The thought inspires my soul; but I have done:  
O! keep her close to the business of your Loves;  
Impose a mighty task of pleasing toil  
Upon her; give her not time to think on Tachmas;  
For if she does sure she will give a tear;  
And Oh! I would not have Semanthe weep;  
Tho' the dear dew would make my ashes flourish in my tomb.  Begona Enters attended, in great distraction. Beg. 
O horror! horror! torment to my Eyes!  
Why was I doomed to this unhappy day?  
Why gave I not my self to be devoured  
With your great father, in his silent tomb,  
Rather than thus in my declining Life,  
Have my distracted bowels rent, and gashed  
By two loved Sons, in an unnatural strife?  
Soe where stripped innocence, with brow August,  
Serenely bids defiance to the Axe;  
As if his soul were Schooled to suffer wrong!  
Ah! have you Eyes? or are you marble turned?  
No, no; the marble weeps, yet has no Eyes.  
— Ah! go not from me; 'tis a Mother begs,  
And as a Mother must not be refused;  
'Tis but an easy boon, my Tachmas Life;  
A brother's Life, a Life less his than yours,  
But mine in chief: Then whither would your rage?  
Like Tullia triumph o'er a parents' wounds?  Selim. 
My guards confine the Queen to her Apartment  
Till Execution's past.  Arb. 
Curse on these Land Sirens; what brave designs  
Have been undone, by listening to women?  Beg. 
Ah! must your Empire's hopes, your people's joys,  
The wishes of good men, be sacrificed  
To a fantastic Idol, that usurps  
The heat of passion, to appear a God in,  
But in cool blood seems monstrous, as a fury?  
Such is revenge: if so, then stop not here,  
Let your licentious fury sweep a long,  
And make a Mother's death complete the Scene  
Of most triumphant murder: rip this womb,  
That forced him yet an Embryo, and gave  
Him being, to displease you: gash these veins,  
That robbed themselves of vigour, to supply  
His infancy with strength to act against you;  
Strike, stab, and drown this contest in my blood.  Selim. 
Are my commands disputed?  [The guards advance. Beg. 
Off you slaves!  
Is there no filial duty to a parent?  
No virtue in a Mother's tears, to stir  
Obedience in a Son? then I will kneel,  
Thus, like a Vassal, follow on my knees,  
And never leave pursuing.  Semanthe Enters in great disorder, and throws herself at his feet. Selim. 
This face of fatal sorrow does confound me;  
Nor can I stand this test.  Bego. 
Sem. Ah! go not from us.  [Both hold him. Beg. 
Fast as a drowning wretch, I'll grasp your knees  
To the last plunge of Life.  Sem. 
Thus pale, and dying,  
With my dishevelled Hair, I'll bind you to me:  
Drag me you may, or dash me to the ground,  
Trample upon me; yet I will not leave you,  
Till your wild rage shall spurn me to my grave.  
O! can you view the violence of my grief,  
That throws me grovelling on the pavement thus,  
Torn with distraction, raving; yet not give  
A look, a sigh, one tender pitying word  
To raise me from despair.—  
See, see, he turns away from my complain,  
My sobs, my groans, and swound: O recall,  
Revoke the rigor of your dooming voice:  
Tho' you have said it, yet you have not sworn  
My utter ruin.  Beg. 
If you persist to take your brother's Life,  
(Oh hear what my presaging soul divines!)  
No History shall offer an excuse:  
Mothers shall curse your memory, Nurses fright  
Their crying Infants with your horrid Tale.  
But if it shall be said in after times,  
How in the height of madness,  
When nothing could arrest your lifted hand,  
Your piety disarmed you:  
What fair opinions then shall Crown your dust?  
How bright will your example shine in story?  
Your name will be invoked, as a sure charm  
To excite obedience; Mothers early teach  
Their children reverence, by reciting you:  
And is not this more worthy, than the fame  
Of that imperial parricide of Rome?  Sem. 
Mercy is still a virtue, and most prized,  
When hope of pardon leaves us: O! then speak,  
Speak in the voice of some relenting God;  
Dispel the general consternation,  
That hangs, like night, upon the face of Persia,  
And be adored above the rising Sun.  Beg. 
By all the hopes, that rip'ned in my womb,  
That sweetened the hard labour of my pains,  
And promised at thy birth, with infant smiles,  
A world of comfort to thy Mother's Age!  
O! I conjure you pity my complain,  
And give my Tachmas to these falling tears.  Sem. 
By fame.  Beg. 
By Nature, by your Father's dust.  Sem. 
By the bright Throne of Cyrus.  Beg. 
By the Sun,  
And all those Stars, that ever blessed this Land  
With their auspicious influence.  Sem. 
He yields, he melts, I read it in his looks:  
A blush confusedly wanders in his Cheeks;  
And now he rurns away. O blessed change!  Beg. 
O matchless virtue! happy, happy day!  Isma. 
Be pleased great Sir! retire:  
Nature may turn the beam of justice.  Selim. 
What! shall we turn Savages in nature's field?  
O rise my Royal Mother! rise Semanthe!  
Yes you have conquered, and I blush to think,  
I could so long resist such wondrous virtue.  Beg. 
What tongue can speak the rapture of my soul?  
I'm lost in joy.  Sem. 
You Gods! that hoard up blessings to reward  
Transcendent virtue, here exhaust your store;  
And if a Virgin's prayers, or wishes can  
Add the least grain to the vast heap, O take 'em:  
Yet all will be too little, for this goodness.  Arb. 
Hell! Plagues! and Death! here's your policy:  
Had I been heard, the business had been done,  
Without this Ceremony.  [To Ishmael.] Selim. 
Live Tachmas! live; come to thy brother's arms;  
Think him no more a Monster, parricide,  
A Wolf, that lives upon the steam of blood:  
I've lost my brutal nature, and am man  
Again, merciful gentle as the first.  Tach. 
What means my Royal Lord?  Selim. 
Ah! wound me not.  
With the remembrance of my hated actions,  
Which shun the light, and fain would be forgotten.  
I would complete the general joy,  
And give the Crown of all, Semanthe to thy Love,  
But dare not, while a breath of passion stirs me:  
But Tachmas! raise thy expectation high:  
Let fancy revel in a thousand forms  
Of joys, yet uninvented by mankind:  
For virtue wins apace upon my soul:  
My tossing thoughts will soon be rocked in calms,  
And then Semanthe shall be wholly thine.  
Thus at the last the beaten voyager,  
Having outlived the storm, does homeward steer,  
Recounts his dangers, in a jocund vein,  
Presents to the life the fury of the main,  
Paints every Wave; but ne'er will out again:  
So since my virtue has the Conquest won;  
The memory of what's already done,  
Shall awe, and dash my rebel passions down.  [Exeunt Omnes.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  Enter Ishmael, Sunamire, Arbanes. Sun. 
THus long with pains, and toil, we've heaved a stone  
To the hills top, and now it rumbles on us.  
Curse on those Plots, that gives us endless labour.  Isma. 
Had our revenge set our low-paced, and easy,  
It had with equal might maintained the course,  
And reached untired the Goal of our designs:  
But a too violent speed has ruined all.  
As an unpractised Seaman, in a storm,  
Plies all his Sail to the unruly winds,  
To wing him to a Port, and never thinks  
That the uneven Vessel is o'repowred;  
Till he too late laments his ignorance,  
And every billow offers him a Tomb.  Arb. 
The Basis, on which all our designs were founded,  
Is overturned; the Sophy's Love abates;  
And now 'tis rumoured through the Court, that soon  
He'll give Semanthe up to Tachmas arms.  Sun. 
First let the frame of nature be dissolved;  
Let Sunamire be dust, and laid in earth  
Deep as the Centre; else they are not safe  
From the contrivance of a rivals rage.  
Tho' I both hate his person, and his Love;  
Yet but to see him in another's arms,  
Would give me speedy death.  
What! shall Semanthe triumph in my spoils?  
Shall she enjoy him all? whilst I stand wishing,  
And like a spirit damned, am robbed of hope?  
O Hell! it mads my reason but to think on't.  
I shall Become their May-game;  
At their loose intervals of calmer Love,  
She'll hang upon his lips, and beg him tell  
The story of my passion o'er again;  
Which he relates, and with a scornful smile,  
Adds to my shame, to make the Girl more vain.  
And must this be whilst I have being? no;  
The thunder rages in my breast for vent;  
Here, here it rolls to make its violent way;  
And now it bursts: the flaming bolts are hurled:  
See, see; the Lovers are dispersed, and scattered,  
Whisked up into the air, like Summer's dust  
By whirlwinds.  [Exit. Isma. 
She grows big with new designs,  
And these dire pangs foretell their birth at hand.  Arb. 
'Tis woman only helps us at a stand.  [Exeunt. Tachmas crossing the Stage. Tach. 
Where shall I fly to shun this solitude?  
My melancholy haunts me every where:  
And not one kindly beam pierces the gloom  
Of my dark thoughts, to give a glimpse of comfort.  
Here, as in Eden once, tho' all things smile,  
Tho nature plays the prodigal, and gives  
Large handed, what our boundless wishes crave;  
Yet discontentedly I roam about,  
And cannot taste the pleasures of the place.  
The Court seems all a crowded Wilderness,  
Where I appear, like the first man, forlorn;  
Whilst each created being else enjoys,  
In happy pairs, the fellowship of Life:  
And if his lonely State he did bemoan,  
And wish an Eve, when woman was unknown,  
What would he have done, had he been forced from her,  
Soon as he found her fortunately fair?  [Exit. Re-enter Sunamire with a Letter, Arbanes, Ishmael. Sun. 
Brother, this Letter is your care;  
And though to me directed from the Prince,  
Yet it must fall into Semanthe's hands.  Arban. 
A slave attendant on her person,  
Shall do the business.  Sun. 
I'll make a visit to Semanthe, and  
Prepare her by degrees to meet the news;  
Which, when the finds confirmed in this forged Letter,  
Must work effects proportioned to our hopes.  Isma. 
O you're the very spirit, and soul of plotting!  
Nothing within the circuit of invention,  
Can scape your searching thoughts.  Sun. 
Since nothing could be hoped for from the Sophy;  
This, as the fittest way, I did propose,  
To work each other's ruin from themselves.  Isma. 
About it, Madam, lose not this present now;  
This minute's worth a year of common hours,  Arban. 
If this plot fail, than heaven! the fault is yours.  [Exeunt Semanthe melaneholy in her Apartment. Sem. 
Did time but circumscribe my miseries,  
I'd live upon the hopes of being blessed,  
And travel cheerful through my youth, to come  
In the evening of my Life, and die within his arms.  
— Has not the Sophy past his royal word  
To make us happy? why then should I fear?  
— Alas! my foolish heart! how soon thou'rt wrought on!  
No, no; fond hopes, you flattering torments hence;  
You smile upon me, to betray me on  
To new despairs, and here I cast you from me:  
For, Chemist like, I waste my tedious Life  
In vain expectance, and at last die poor.  Enter Sunamire to her. Sun. 
Semanthe weeping! what can fortune mean?  
Now, when the Majesty of Persia comes,  
In all his royalties, and pomp of power,  
Like a descending God, to Court you to him,  
Thus to be seen in tears provokes my wonder.  Sem. 
Alas! is it so strange to view me in  
That garb of sorrow, which I daily wear,  
And never will put off, till my loved Lord,  
My Tachmas presence shall dispel these Clouds.  Sun. 
O Madam! he must be forgotten now:  
Let not his memory debar your thoughts,  
From all that Indian world, those golden joys,  
Which an Imperial Lover offers to you.  Sem. 
Where would thy language point me? O my fears!  Sun. 
Tachmas no longer struggles with his fate,  
To force impossibilities; and since  
Heaven has designed you for the Sophy's bed;  
He bows to th' immortal will, and has resolved  
(Rather than rob your merits of a Crown)  
To wean his heart for ever from your charms,  
And fix his wishes to some humbler Maid,  
Whose beauties, as they are not envied,  
Have store of happiness to feed content.  Sem. 
Had I a Faith beyond the ignorant,  
I could not credit this. O Sunamire! recall  
The fleeting air, that bears the sound away,  
Or from this hour (though the divinest truth  
Spoke in thy words) ne'er hope to be believed.  
Tho' we are wretched, it shall ne'er be said,  
That fortune took the advantage of our crimes,  
To make us so. Tachmas has all the truth  
Of heaven; so pure, so white, so innocent:  
No woman that has ever known the arts  
Of cozening man, will think him of the kind.  Sun. 
Madam, I'm sorry I should be the first  
To bring unwelcome news.  Sem. 
And yet my Sunamire! thou wert my friend,  
My bosom friend; and why shouldst thou betray me?  
Ah! no; I find it now; 'tis all a truth,  
All that thou sayest: my Tachmas is o'ercome  
By this last generous usage of the Sophy,  
And I am sold to ruin:  
And it was kind in thee, most like a friend  
To come, and give me all my fate at once,  
And not behold me languish in my pains.  
No Sunamire! this poor forsaken Maid  
Shall not outlive her shame: yet ere I die,  
May I not know my happy rivals name?  Sun. 
Now all the subtlety of woman aid me.  [Aside. 
Alas! how am I wrought into an error,  
A maze of folly by my indiscretion!  
I could not think you yet retained a thought  
Of Tachmas, therefore ignorantly pressed too far.  
In me to answer, would appear insulting:  
Therefore I beg you'd spare my modesty  
The blush, my tongue the vanity to tell,  
What soon from every mouth will strike your ears.  Sem. 
Insinuating fiend! I see thee through  
That painted vizor of thy flattering friendship,  
With all thy devilish stratagems a going.  
Now I perceive, what I so long suspected,  
Thy love to Tachmas: and now thou com'st to raise  
My jealousy, on some sinister end.  
But to this point I'm fixed: that should the earth  
Depose his falsehood in a general voice;  
Nay, call the tongues of Angels to avouch it,  
I would not think it of him.  Sun. 
Know then as to the conquest of the Prince;  
Whose inclinations you so firmly fixed;  
'Twas got so easily, I do not think  
It worth a triumph, scarce of being vain;  
For, like a slave, I found him on the ground,  
Groaning beneath the bondage of your Love,  
And begging liberty from any hand.  Sem. 
O Heavens.—  Sun. 
Let it never be said to shame our Sex,  
That any Lady in her youthful bloom,  
When beauty wanders in a thousand charms,  
And not a look can pass without a wound,  
That then she fulsomely detained a Lover  
Against his will, and cloyed him with her fondness:  
O! how I loathe the sound! against his will!  Sem. 
Sure thou hast drunk with Adders, that thy tongue  
Thus poisons every word it forms, and casts  
Its venom on my Tachmas constancy.  Sun. 
There's no such thing as constancy in nature:  
'Tis but a borrowed name, for seeble beauties,  
Or stale decaying Virgins, to make use of.  
True Love should be as wavering as the wind:  
For that remains but while the rapture lasts,  
And palls, when sunk to an indifference.  Sem. 
You speak of that poor passion in your breast,  
Raised by an earthly fume of base desire;  
The sudden fit of a distempered Love:  
Where the gross joy mounts not above the sense;  
Not the Seraphic flame, that warms the soul:  
Such was the sacred fire, that light our Loves,  
That fired my Tachmas heart, and made him mine.  Sun. 
Then be it so: Rave on in fond conceits  
Of airy promises of constancy:  
Swell your thin hopes with insubstantial food,  
Whilst I taste real feasts of flesh, and blood,  
And in your Tachmas arms reap thousand joys,  
Which dreams but ape, and fancy but destroys.  
Methinks already in some smiling Grove,  
I sit embracing the dear man I Love:  
We sigh, and kiss, and now our transports grow  
Tumultuous, but the thoughts of you,  
(Tho Love be lost in Love)  
Still lend us vigour, and our joys renew.  [Exit. Sem. 
How the insulting creature Lords it o'er me!  
And well she may, for such a conquest sure  
Might make the temperatest Victor proud:  
This may be malice, or a plot to try me;  
That's the last hope between me, and despair  Enter and Eunuch with a Letter. Eun. 
Madam, the trust I have been honoured with  
In your service, gained me the Prince's faith;  
From whose hand this Letter I received  
For Sunamire with strict injunctions  
Of care, and secrecy: at which mistrusting  
Some practices in hand against your Loves;  
I've brought it to you.  Sem. 
I will reward your care.  [Reads the Letter. 
Sunamire,  
REsist no longer the propositions I made you, to place the Crown of Persia on your head; if you will but make use of a project to rid us of Seliman: And do not think that I retain any longer the least thoughts. of Semanthe; whom my Stars, and inclinations have never designed for me,  
Tachmas.  Sem. 
Ah me! where has my fortune left me now?  
What unfrequented Coath am I thrown on,  
Naked, and helpless, to be made a prey  
To the next coming savage of the field?  
What Corner of the Earth will now afford  
A grave Grave to take me in? what mountain hide  
Me, and my woes for ever from the world?  
Undone! thou most undone of woman kind!  [Falling down drops the Letter. 
Here grean thy sorrows out, and let the winds.  
Whisper thy story through the Universe;  
That never listening Virgin be again  
Betrayed by the known perjuries of faithless men.  
— My spirits saint— sure 'tis the hand of death  
Knocks at my heart; I go, I hope, to rest.  [Swoons away. Enter Seliman, Ishmael, Arbanes. Selim. 
What do I see? Semanthe on the ground,  
Breathless, and pale!  Arb. 
Some signs of struggling life  
Appear, call in her women to assist her.  Enter womans. Isma. 
The train has taken fire; now the blow  
Must follow soon.  Selim. 
Gently, gently raise her:  
She breathes, she comes again.  Sem. 
Bless me! where am I? in Elysium sure;  
I know it by this train of weeping Maids,  
Who died for Love, as I have done: stand off,  
We'll walk, and tell sad stories round,  
Of injured women, and betraying men:  
But I must weep a while; the tears will flow  
If I but think on Strephon's cruelty:  
— O I would sleep for ever.—  Sinks into her womens' arms, and is born off. Selim. 
Bear her to her bed:  
Rest may relieve her spirits.— Ha! this may  
Unriddle all.  [Finds the Letter. Isma. 
Now fortune play thy part.  Arb. 
'Tis a design so full of mastery,  
'Twere womanish to doubt of the success.  Selim. 
Ha! against my Life?  Isma. 
Your Majesty seems troubled; have you aught  
Discovered in that Letter?  Selim. 
Only this  
That I have festered here within my breasts  
A bosom Wolf, to lap my vital blood:  
Here Ishmael! read the foulest Treasons,  
That ever stained the innocence of Paper.  
Is then my mercy poisoned into sin?  
And black ingratitude my punishment?  
'Tis just, you God this scourge upon my folly  
Shows infinite wisdom, and was timely sent  
To warn me of my fate.  Isma. 
Yet sacred Sir—  Selim. 
Appear not in his cause, nor dare to reason  
With my unalterable resolution:  
Should mercy self, with all her Virgin train,  
Melt at my feet; by Haly's soul, 'twere vain.  Isma. 
What could provoke the Prince?  Selim. 
The Fiends can tell: but now 'tis busy time:  
Sweat at the Anvil of thy brain, and forge  
(Quick as the Cyclops arm an angry God)  
A thousand deaths to wait upon my will.  
Arbanes, thou secure him, till justice calls  
Him out, a sacrifice to my revenge.  [Exit. Arb. 
After him:  
Fix but his wavering temper to this point,  
And then the day's our own.  [Exit Ishmael. 
My fiery soul  
Disdains the timorous safety in revenge,  
Which Ishmael pursues. My forward sword,  
With resolution steeled, shall guide me safe  
Through the most desperate attempts.  
Danger has been my Mistress; death I've met,  
On martial Plains, in every garb of fate.  
And shall he awe me now? since I am in,  
And Fate works up the melancholy Scene,  
Fall Tachmas, nature perish, all things lie  
Confounded in deep Chaos, so that I  
Revenged may in the common ruin lie.  [Exit.   

ACT. V.  

SCENE I.  Enter Ishmael, Arbanes, at several Entrances. Isma. 
THou meetest my wishes; is the business done?  Arb. 
This Sun shall see it finished  Isma. 
Give it o'er; would we had never meddled.  Arb. 
Curse on thy fear, that undermines thy wit.  Isma. 
The Sophy does suspect us.  Arb. 
Danger then  
Urges the Prince's death; for to defer,  
Betrays a conscious guilt, that may undo us:  
He dies this minute, that the next may better  
Advantage our escapes.  Isma: 
I've not thus long  
Marched hand in hand with mischief, spent my days  
In Courts, forsworn my Conscience, studied all  
The knotty arts, and rules of policy;  
Which wise men use to their own interests,  
Not to provide me with a ready plank,  
To bear me from the ruin, safe to shore.  Arb. 
Thou canst not here be safe; my Commission  
Allows a sure protection in the Army.  Isma. 
I'll steer a different course; grow popular,  
And into the City;  
Where Cobblers square the Government to their Lasts,  
And Tinker's patch the State; some friends I've made  
Already there, brave factious, gifted Rogues,  
That Cant their Doctrine to their present wants,  
And Zealously, upon a fit of Conscience,  
Sin or Unsin Rebellion to the Crowd:  
These are the fittest instruments to gull  
The easy people: hark, the Monster roars!  [Shoots within 
The Rabble is assembled to my wish;  
This is the time, to work 'em.  [Exit. Enter Semanthe. Arb. 
Semanthe here! then there is something still  
For me to finish.  Sem. 
Why do I wander this wide barren waste,  
Forsaken, and forlorn? when a fair prospect  
Of everlasting rest stands right in view?  
This load of woe, that bends me to the ground,  
I can with Life put off; yes I will rush  
Into the arms of death, and shelter there;  
There sleep securely all my cares away;  
Nor shall the noise of Empire, or of Love,  
Awaken me to wretchedness again.  Arb. 
Talk not of dying, Madam, Heaven looks down,  
With a kind Eye upon your sufferings,  
And has inspired me with a Tenderness,  
May prove of service to you.  Sem. 
Is there then  
A seat for pity left in humane breasts?  
Or is this but a visionary beam,  
Of comfort that thus lightens in my soul?  
If it be so, oh! let me still dream on,  Arb. 
Madam, the Prince.—  Sem. 
Ha! speak that yet again:  
Sweet, as the Sirens Song, those accents fall,  
And charm me to my ruin: tho' he has  
Undone me ever; but to hear his name,  
Awakes my dying spirits from the grave,  
Dispels my grief, and charms me into joy.  
Oh! then speak on,  
Delude me from my miseries a while;  
Tell me some story of my perjured Dear;  
Tell me he lives, is happy, whilst I sigh  
My spirits out in thanks, and die in peace.  Arb. 
Would you not see him, Madam?  Sem. 
Oh in vain  
I wept, entreated, followed on my knees:  
For when I offered at a last Farewell,  
Once more to see my still Loved, faithless Tachmas,  
The Sophy, quite remorseless, fled the room;  
And tho' I grasped him with the pangs of death,  
Burst from my arms, and left me on the floor.  Arb. 
Yet, Madam, you shall see him; Tachmas is  
Within my charge; and only I, without  
The King's command, can give you entrance to him:  
Which you shall have.  
Although my Life must answer it to the Sophy.  Sem. 
All, all the Gods reward this wondrous pity!  
Oh lead me to that dear, protesting Creature;  
That perfect Image of betraying man;  
For he will swear, and talk such melting things,  
Sigh such a trembling story of his Love,  
Look such a soul of passion from his Eyes,  
And all with such unpractised innocence;  
That should the Sex of womankind stand by,  
As Witnesses of my injurious usage,  
And but to hear him talk, as I have done;  
The coldest sure would venture her undoing.  [Exeunt  

SCENE changes to a Street.  Enter a Rabble of Citizens. 1 Cit 
COme, Neighbours, hang these cheating Shop— countenances, they are marks, the world knows Cuckolds by; and though they be of credit in the City, yet, let me tell you, at this end o'th' Town, they strike no more awe into the beholders, than a Watch man's Lantern, after day break.  2 Cit 
Ay, my Wife told me, I had a sneaking look, and could not huff my debtors: but now I'm charged with bottle Ale, to rectify the errors of my face: and let me see, what upstart Rascal, newly come to office, shall overlook me; I'll strut, and cock, and talk as big, as wind, and froth can make me— but I'll home, while my courage lasts, ransack my shop— books, take account of my debts, and arrest in a direct Line, from the Lord, to the Footman.  1 Cit 
Of that in season— but now we are assembled, let us put on the gravity of authority, and seem, as we really are, the true Judges of the Nation.  Omn. 
I a Judge! I a Judge!  3 Cit 
A Tailor a Judge! that's fine I faith!  1 Cit 
Why, I tell you, Neighbours, a cross Legged Tailor is the very type of Justice; he measures offences by the Yard, and with his shears snaps off the Kingdom's vermin, I mean, those shreds, those remnants, those patches of a commonwealth, called Gamesters, Cuckold-makers, and disbanded Officers, that are good for nothing, but to make our Wives run a madding for foreign Languages, brass Swords, superannuated Wigs, and greasy Scarlet.  2 Cit 
Humph! a Judge say you; very like: why, Neighbours, he has served upon Juries, off and on, these twenty years, and the Devil's in't if he maimed be free of Judge's Hall by this time:— but then as to us— ay, there's the question; how we are— that is to say, how we may be?— why thus, there's none here but has exercised the Arbitrary function of a beadle in his respective Parish; and as I take it, that must be a foot to the Chair of Government.  3 Cit 
Ay, ay; we are all Judges, and Judges Children; indeed deed I ever thought I was to be a great man, I was such a dull Rogue.  2 Cit 
Well, I was once a Justice itinerant in my precincts, which in the Vulgar Translation is no more than a Constable: but 'twas a thriving time, Neighbours, a very thriving time: for the Parish bawds (besides all underdealers, as procurers, and retailers of pleasure) amount to— let me see— let me see, a parcel of— no, no, I'm out— 'tis no matter for fractions, but bribes in abundance, to wink at copulation; I Pimped by Commission and drank brandy at the cost of the sinners.  3 Cit 
Lord! I'm thinking how awkward, and slovenly I shall be in my new trappings for a day or to; Ha! and if there be occasion for speeches, my Tongue will certainly founder: my Wife spoiled my Oratory, when she broke my pate, for being saucy.  2 Cit 
Better, and better still: few words promise a great deal of thinking, and that abundance of judicial understanding: Besides you see our City Justices, how they manage themselves upon the Bench: indeed a Nut crack, or some such conceited, Hyroglyphical Engine does well in the hand of a Magistrate, which having used a while, you straight grow Lethargic, nodo're the cause; then start in amazement, and condemn at a venture.  1 Cit 
Ay, ay, ay; ever while you live, ever while you live observe that: for look you, there's no one but some time or other there deserves hanging; and tho' the prisoner be not yet a Rogue, soft and fair, all in good time, he may be one: therefore I say once again condemn for prevention.  3 Cit 
Condemnation! I'll have nothing but condemnation in my Court, 't will clear the Kingdom of Idlers, and then we may father our own Children.  2 Cit 
Well, neighbour Ralph, I know you are a good Common wealth's man, and understand property, and privilege, as a man may say; but Scholars, you know, are Infidels; still at their quares and their quomodoes, to show their Learning; therefore I being somewhat lettered, or so, would fain know how we are these great concealed persons, you talk of?  1 Cit 
Why thus; when our betters are at variance, beyond the Arbitration of the bench, the suit is removed to the Court of Commonalty, and decided by the infallible knocks of black bill, and paring-shovel; then to what ever side we lean, that is sure to be weighty.  3 Cit 
As if you had the cause in your false scales at home.  Ishmael enters to 'em. 1 Cit 
But observe, here comes an Ambassador already; give him Audience, I say; state Affairs I'll warrant you, Neighbours.  Isma. 
My worthy Countrymen! my fellow sufferers!  
To you I come to weep this Kingdom's tears,  
To sigh its groaning sorrows out, and pour  
Into your ears its sad calamities:  
You! who, like kind Physicians, always are  
Assisting with your utmost art, and care,  
To search its wounds, and with a healing hand,  
Unite its broken, and disjointed limbs.  1 Cit 
Sure he takes me for a bone setter.  Isma. 
I am, like you, a Persian; all your good  
Proportionably mine, as are you ills;  
Our hopes, and lives tied in one common interest;  
Then wonder not that I stand forth, to head you,  
Against this barbarous, inhuman King,  
That grows in tyranny,  
And like a Torrent from a Mountain's fall,  
If not with speed diverted, will overwhelm us.  2 Cit 
Now for Rebellion, I ne'er Rebelled in all my Life.  Omn. 
All for Rebellon, all for Rebellion.  Isma. 
If to defend your Lives, your Liberties,  
Your Laws, your Customs, and your ancient dues,  
Be to rebel, than this is rank Rebellion:  
But sure a just defence may hope a fairer name.  2 Cit 
Name me no name, Sir, it shall be named Rebellion, or nothing.  Omn. 
Rebellion or nothing, Rebellion or nothing.  Isma. 
Then be it so, methinks I see oppression  
Bestride your streets already, burning lust  
Pursue your daughters to your inmost rooms,  
While you stand weeping by, and cannot help 'em.  
Your shops forced open, and your goods exposed  
To the wild rapine of licentious Soldiers,  
That live on spoil; and all without redress,  
For justice is no more: speak, would you this?  Omn. 
No, no; we're all for Rebellion.  Ism. 
'Tis what you must expect, if not prevented.  
Last night, O night never to be forgotten!  
Tachmas, that model of our ancient glory,  
Tachmas, that fought your fields, and never thought  
His blood to rich, to buy his Country's peace,  
Was by the Tyrant's order barbarously murdered;  
Murdered, my Country men! and when you hear  
The cause, I doubt not  
But as the story must provoke your tears,  
So they will stir you up to a revenge.  1 Cit 
Alack-a-day! I vow he makes me weep, good gentleman!  Isma. 
'Twas only this; he was too good, too virtuous,  
A Lover of his Country; therefore fell.  
He was your guard, your shield; but now is gone:  
He fell because he Loved you, and will you  
Not solemnize his funeral, in blood?  
Will you stand here, like statues, motionless,  
Weep o'er his gaping wounds, and not revenge 'em?  
No, no; I see you only want a Leader;  
And here I offer both my life, and fortune,  
To farther the design.  1 Cit 
Lead us on, lead us on; we'll fire the Palace, depose the Tyrant, and make you King.  2 Cit 
Ay, ay; a King of our own making!  Isma. 
O! you mistake me; that is not my end.  2 Cit 
No, 'tis the beginning of your Reign, and that's better.  1 Cit 
We lose time, we loose time, now for a Coronation!  Omn. 
A Coronation! A Coronation!  [Exeunt shooting. Tachmas in Prison. Tach. 
I think, and therefore am: hard state of man!  
That proves his being with an Argument,  
That speaks him wretched. Birds in Cages lose  
The freedom of their natures unconfined;  
Yet they will sing, and bill, and murmur there  
As merrily, as they were on the Wing.  
But man, that reasoning favourite of Heaven,  
How can he bear it? Tho the body finds  
Respite from torment, yet the mind has none:  
For thousand restless thoughts, of different kinds,  
Beat thick upon the soul, some are comparing  
The present with the past, how happy once  
I was, and now how wretched: some presenting  
My miseries by others happiness;  
Whilst others, falsely flattering me to Life,  
Tell me my fortune ripens in the womb  
Of time, and I shall yet be happy.  Enter Arbanes with Semanthe. Arb. 
Madam, behold the Prince alone, and thoughtful.  Sem. 
Alas! My Lord! once I was thought a balm  
For every wound of Fortune; but I fear  
My presence now will but torment him more.  Tach. 
Ha! sure my fancy, revelling in a dream,  
Presents that form before me: see, she comes,  
Bright, as the Virgin blushes of the morn,  
Rising upon the darkness of my fate,  
And darts a day of comfort through my soul.  
O my best Life! thou dearest! O Semanthe!  
I swear, while I have thee within my arms,  
I will not lose a thought on my misfortunes.  
Let me unbosom all my longings here.  
— She turns away! what can this mean? you Gods!  
Art thou then altered too? O speak Semanthe!  
For tho' I thus behold thee cold, and changed,  
Yet there is something whispers to my soul,  
Thou never canst resolve on Tachmas ruin.  Sem. 
O heaven! so tenderly he melts my heart,  
I shall want power to tell him of his falsehoods.  Tach. 
Nay then by all the Gods, I know thee well:  
No, thou art still the same; those languish,  
Those eager looks, those sighs, and tears inform me,  
More than a thousand tongues thou lovest me still.  Sem. 
Why is our Sex so easy to believe?  
And cozening man so artful to deceive?  Tach. 
Why, my best Life! why dost thou thus torment  
Thyself, and me?—  [She goes from him. 
By all my hopes you must not leave me thus,  
I will pursue you ever with my prayers,  
Summon you with the gentle call of Love,  
Till you awake, and answer to my longings.  
My life! my soul!—  [following her. Sem. 
O! I can hold no longer:  
Thy tongue has softened me into desire,  
And I am all o'er Love: my dearest Lord!  
Let me for ever hide me in this bosom;  
Here sigh the tenderest passion of my heart.  
The ecstasy comes on so fast upon me,  
That words are wanting to express my joy.  Tach. 
Good Gods! is't possible? hast thou at last  
My fair, offended Dear! resolved to bless me?  
Is it then true that thus I hold thee fast,  
Panting, and balmy to my bleeding heart?  
My reason ebbs, and mighty transport sways,  
In full dominion, every corner here,  
And I could rave for ever on my Love.  Sem. 
And I could hear you ever.  Arb. 
O! that I could run back into my youth,  
To ravish her before him: but 'tis passed;  
And my revenge must lie another way.  [aside. Tach. 
A thought returns upon my memory,  
That bids me chide; Semanthe! O my Life!  
How couldst thou see me racked with impatience?  
How couldst thou so dissemble with thy Love?  
Was it to try how I could bear it?  Sem. 
Ha!  
Stand off, I know thee now, thou art that false  
Betraying, perjured man, that has undone me.  Tach. 
From thee, good Gods! do I hear this from thee?  Sem. 
Alas! my thoughts were all employed upon thee:  
My ears devoured the music of thy Love;  
My wrongs were silenced, and my eyes were charmed:  
And had you but continued the soft Scene;  
Had you still practised on my easiness,  
Tho with feigned Love, flattering my womanish faith;  
Joy would have done the business of my grief,  
And I had died contented in your arms.  Tach. 
What means my fate? where wouldst thou drive my thoughts?  Sem. 
'Tis true, I came to take my last farewell  
Of Life, and Love; of thee, and all my cares:  
To tell thee of thy falsehoods, not upbraid thee;  
To sigh my story out without complaining;  
To suffer on, nor murmur at my fate,  
Since you decreed it; this was my fond resolve,  
Th' intention of this passionate, doting Fool:  
But now, O turn of temper! thy hard usage  
Has run me from my reason, I am wild,  
Quite mad, distracted, and must rave a while:  
Rave till I burst, and sink down dead with passion.  Tach. 
Alas! I find it now; thou art abused,  
And I betrayed: some Villain has traduced  
My constancy; but by the pangs of Love,  
By all the torments of a bleeding heart,  
I ever was most true, and still am thine.  Sem. 
O Prince! forbear; if Sunamire should hear.—  Tach. 
Ha! Goes it there? then there is mischief yet:  
That woman bears us most inveterate hate,  
And should not be believed against ourselves.  Sem. 
But O! the Letter, Prince.—  Tach. 
Riddles! and doubts.  Arb. 
I have a friend my Lord! can best unfold 'em  [Goes to the door. 
Come forth, my Sister; time has recompensed  
Our expectation with a full revenge.  Enter Sunamire, and Osman disguised. Sem. 
Revenge! alas! that fatal word too late  
Explains my folly, and creates my fear.  Tach. 
What shouldst thou fear, my Love? thy innocence  
Will shield thee; and for me, the fear of death  
Flew from me, when my happiness took wing.  Sun. 
Infuse the mortal drugs in the gilt bowls;  
Be ready at my call.  [Exit. Osman. Arb. 
See where they stand,  
Lulled in the arms of Love, and far removed  
From the apprension of that fatal minute,  
Comes posting to their ruin.  Sun. 
The thought was lucky,  
With a pretended pity, to decoy  
Semanthe to the snare.  Arb. 
To offer her  
In the first draught, the Nectar of her Love;  
Will make the gall of our revenge more bitter.  
But see, they turn upon us.  Sun. 
Sure 'tis the error of my sense, that shows  
Semanthe here, that poor, forsaken thing:  
Alas! I pity thee: but blush to see  
My Sex's fondness painted in those tears,  
Lost on a man that scorns thee.  Sem. 
Why dost thou awaken me into despair?  
Death is my wish, but I would meet it here.  [To Tachmas. Sun. 
Nay now, my Lord!  
I must become a pleader in this cause:  
The fatal purple rises in her cheeks,  
The Lilies wither, and the Roses fade;  
Poor wretch! see, see she lingers for a look;  
Do not torment the quiet of her death;  
Speak kindly to her; bless her with a smile;  
Nay I can see her take a farewell kiss,  
Without a Rivals fear.  Tach. 
Base cruel Woman!  
But Oh! for my Semanthe's sake I will  
Forbear to curse thee by that gentle name.  
I know thou comest on mischief; but I charge thee,  
If thou hast any part of thy soft Sex,  
Working to virtue in thy hardened soul,  
(Howe'er the Sophy, and the God's doom me)  
Beware how thou rain'st against my Love.  Sun. 
How Sir! so hardened in this cozening trade!  
First you betray Semanthe to your scorn,  
Then dare not justify your Love to me:  
But Sir, the Letter speaks your falsehood plain.  Tach. 
What Letter? speak; if it be sent from Hell,  
Thou art its chief Commissioner; inform me:  
Say, hast thou mortgaged thy last hope of heaven,  
And in some fatal scroul, to take my Life,  
Or what's yet worse, to ruin me with her,  
Subscribed thyself a servant to the Furies?  Sun. 
Were I not satisfied that my revenge  
Requires the secret from me, thou shouldst still  
Remain in ignorance: yes, I forged the Letter,  
To raise her jealousy of you, in hopes  
(A woman's spirit working to revenge)  
She might divulge your Treasons to the Sophy.  Tach. 
My Treasons!  Arb. 
Yes, against the Sophy's Life:  
For nothing else could put you in our power.  Tach. 
I thought the Line of my aflictions carried  
But to the end of Life: but thou hast found  
A way to vex my quiet in the grave;  
To sacrifice my fame to after times,  
And blot my story with a Traitor's stain.  Arb. 
I owed thee this, proud Prince, for this contempt,  
And insolence; when, to the shame of arms,  
My wounds, and blood forgot, Tachmas was named,  
To lead those Armies, I had bred in War.  Tach. 
I know my latest hour comes on apace;  
And now to curse thee, were to rob my soul  
Of this soft satisfaction in my death.  
Oh! let me hold thee fast, my only Life!  
Here languish out a farewell to our Loves;  
Gaze on those heavenly Eyes,  
That, through the Grove of death, must light me on  
To the bright Mansions of their kindred stars.  Sun. 
So unconcerned! the face of death will turn  
This Scene of Love: appear thou Minister  
Of Fate, come forth, and act thy tragic part.  Enter Osman with four Bowls. Tach. 
What means this fatal pomp? all this for me?  
Or to be yet more cruel, would you load  
My mounting spirit with your guilty souls;  
And damn me with your company in death?  Sun. 
This is your bridal night; and we your guests,  
Must wait upon the Ceremony:  
But know, my Lord! the gilt bowls are prepared  
Only for you, and your fair bride, for they  
Are poisoned.  Tach. 
Ha! thou canst not mean her death:  
Or wouldst thou in one Devilish act, outdo  
The eldest damned in Hell? O! spare her Life,  
And I will bless thee with my latest breath,  
Nay, as I mount, report thee to the Gods,  
And tell 'em thou art good.  Sem. 
My Lord! forbear  
Soliciting, what granted, I refuse;  
Life without you: By our immortal Loves  
I am resolved on this. Alas! I swear  
I think this hour our first happiness,  
And to die thus together, is an earnest,  
Sent from the Gods, of worlds of joy to come:  Sun. 
Yes Rival, thou shouldst live, be forced to live,  
But that the fight of thee for ever would  
Revive my shame, and lay his scorn before me!  Tach. 
Give me the fatal bowls: and now, Samanthd  
Since thou resolv'st, and Fate will have it so;  
I here present thee with a cordial draught,  
That will preserve our Loves i'th' other world.  Sem. 
Then cheerfully, as birds salute the morn  
After a cold, long, stormy Winter night,  
We leave these solitary, dark abodes,  
And mount to mingle with the shining Gods.  Tach. 
O! how I grude the Grave this heavenly form!  
These beauties will inspire the arms of death,  
And warm the pale, cold tyrant into life.  
O I could rave for ever— but farewell.  [All drink. Arb. 
'Tis to their meeting in the other world.  [To Sunamire. Osm. 
So; to my knowledge, you will first meet there.  [Aside. Tach. 
'Tis done, the business of our fate is done:  
How fares my Love? speak, for, in spite of death,  
Thy Eyes still carry their resistless fires,  
And beauty fits in triumph on thy cheeks.  Osman gives Tachmas asword. Arb. 
Now, Sunamire! thus prosperous in revenge;  
Let's hug ourselves, and laugh to see 'em fall.  Osm. 
Stand on your guard, my Lord! soon as he finds  
The poison work; despair and madness will  
Enforce his hand to some damned bloody deed.  Arb. 
Thou dost not feel the pleasures, that I have,  
To see these whining, constant Lovers die.  
— What means this dulness?— ha! thy Eyes are fixed;  
Thy lips too tremble to relate the cause.  Sun. 
O! we are poorly caught in our own snare.  
The poison, we prepared for them, the slave  
Has given to us.  [Sinks down. Arb. 
Ha! poisoned!— yes 'tis here:  
I feel the Traitor working to my heart.  
But I have yet a sword, that shall prevent  
The turns of fate, and we will fall revenged.  
— What mean these shouts? but I defer too long.  
— Ha! Tachmas armed;  Tach. 
Yes, Traitor, to thy ruin.  Arb. 
Then thus I brave my Fate.  They fight Arbanes falls. 
— O! I am slain.  Sun. 
Speak brother, is he down? then to my part,  
I'll come, and triumph once over his heart:  
But see, my happy rival does appear,  
Trembling, and fainting in the arms of fear:  
Now strike, whilst nobly thus I conquer here.  [Dies Enter Seliman, Begona, attendants, Ishmael bound, and guarded. Selim. 
He lives, he lives, you Gods!  
Once more, with all the dearness of a brother,  
I fall upon thy breast, the haven, where  
My beaten mind rides safe, secure from restless  
Passions, which, like tempests on the main,  
Drive reason from the guidance of our lives,  
And leave us shipwrecked on a barbarous Coast.  Beg. 
I see, my son, the hands of Heaven, and Fate,  
Have been employed in thy deliverance.  
But say, my Tachmas! speak the wondrous course,  
That Heaven pursued to rescue thee from death.  Tach. 
That best my life's preserver here can tell.  [To osman. Selim. 
Thy habit speaks a slave: yet in thy face  
Something appears familiar to my Eyes,  
That I have often seen; but when, and where,  
My memory has lost.  Osm. 
Great Sir, I have been honoured in your service;  
Your Soldier from my youth; Osman my name,  
Which you, Sir, must remember, since your favours  
Distinguished it first from the crowd.  [To Tachmas. Tach. 
My friend!  
My Osman here! then Heaven has sent the sword,  
And shield of all the War. O royal Sir!  
Let me present a Captain to your knowledge,  
Worthy that noble Title.  [Osman kneels to Seliman. Selim. 
Rise to our favour: the particulars  
How thou cam'st here disguised, and by what means  
Thy faith and gratitude have worked their ends,  
A happier hour will claim. Remove these bodies;  
And for that slave, such matchless Villainies  
He has confessed, as mercy cannot pardon:  
Bear him to death, away with him.  Isma. 
I go; but first I make this hearty wish:  
May lame ambition (for the public good,  
Halting upon the crutches of the crowd)  
Still fall:  
May Treason ever need the people's swords,  
And may they valiantly compound for words;  
And last, may all disturbers of the state,  
Grow blindly popular, and meet my fate.  [Is led off. Selim. 
Virtue shines out again in its full blaze:  
And now not to reward thy sufferings,  
Would speak me accessary to those crimes  
My ignorance committed: therefore here  
I give Semanthe to thy longing Love:  
Take her, and wear her ever in thy heart:  
Whilst I collected in my temper stand,  
And may succeeding Monarchs learn from me,  
How far to trust a Statesman's policy.  
FINIS.    

THE EPILOGUE.  
A Virgin Poet was served up to day;  
Who till this hour, ne'er cackled for a Play:  
He's neither yet a Whig nor Tory-Boy;  
But, like a Girl, whom several would enjoy,  
Begs leave to make the best of his own natural Toy.  
Were I to play my callow Author's game,  
The King's House would instruct me, by the Name:  
There's Loyalty to one: I wish no more:  
A Commonwealth sounds like a common Whore.  
Let Husband or Gallant be what they will,  
One part of Woman is true Tory still.  
If any factious spirit should rebel,  
Our Sex, with ease, can every, rising quell.  
Then, as you hope we should your failings hide,  
An honest jury for our play provide:  
whigs at their Poets never take offence;  
They save dull Culpritts who have Murdered Sense:  
Tho Nonsense is a nauseous heavy Mass,  
The Vehicle called faction makes it pass.  
Faction in Play's the Commonwealths man's bribe:  
The leaden farthing of the Canting Tribe:  
Though void in payment Laws and Statutes make it,  
The Neighbourhood, that knows the Man, will take it.  
'Tis Faction buys the Votes of half the Pit;  
Theirs is the Pension-Parliament of wit.  
In City-Clubs their venom let 'em vent;  
For there 'tis safe, in its own Element:  
Here, where their madness can have no pretence,  
Let 'em forget themselves an hour in sense.  
In one poor Isle, why should two Factions be?  
Small difference in your Vices I can see;  
In Drink and Drabs both sides too well agree.  
Would there were more Preferments in the Land;  
If Places fell, the party could not stand.  
Of this damned grievance every Whig complains;  
They grunt like Hogs, till they have got their Grains.  
Mean time you see what Trade our Plots advance,  
We send each year good Money into France:  
And they, that know what Merchandise we need,  
Send o'er true Protestants, to mend our breed.  
FINIS.