By imitating thy heroic deeds,
Perhaps, I may rise to some little worth,
Beneath thy care I 'll try my feeble wings,
Till taught by thee to soar to nobler heights.
King. Why, that's my boy, thy spirit speaks thy birth,
No more I 'll turn thee from the road to glory,
To rust in slothfulness, with lazy Gownsmen.
Gotarzes. Thanks, to my Sire, I 'm now completely blest.
Arsaces. But, I've another Brother, where's Vardanes?
King. Ha! what, methinks, he lurks behind the croud,
And wears a gloom which suits not with the time.
Vardanes. Doubt not my Love, tho' I lack eloquence,
To dress my sentiments and catch the ear,
Tho' plain my manners, and my language rude,
My honest heart disdains to wear disguise.
Then think not I am slothful in the race,
Or, that my Brother springs before my Love.
Arsaces. Far be suspicion from me.
Vardanes. So, 't is done,
Thanks to dissembling, all is well again.
King. Now let us forward, to the Temple go,
And let, with chearful wine, the goblets flow;
Let blink-ey'd Jollity his aid afford,
To crown our triumph, round the festive board:
But, let the wretch, whose soul can know a care,
Far from our joys, to some lone shade repair,
In secrecy, there let him e'er remain,
Brood o'er his gloom, and still increase his pain.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
ACT SECOND
Scene 1. A Prison.
Lysias, alone.
The Sun set frowning, and refreshing Eve
Lost all its sweets, obscur'd in double gloom.
This night shall sleep be stranger to these eyes,
Peace dwells not here, and slumber flies the shock;
My spirits, like the elements, are war[r]ing,
And mock the tempest with a kindred rage—
I, who can joy in nothing, but revenge,
Know not those boasted ties of Love and Friendship;
Vardanes I regard, but as he give me
Some hopes of vengeance on the Prince Arsaces—
But, ha! he comes, wak'd by the angry storm,
'Tis to my wish, thus would I form designs,
Horror should breed beneath the veil of horror,
And darkness aid conspiracies— He's here—
Scene 2.
Vardanes and Lysias.
Lysias. Welcome, my noble Prince.
Vardanes. Thanks, gentle friend;
Heav'ns! what a night is this!
Lysias. 'T is fill'd with terror;
Some dread event beneath this horror lurks,
Ordain'd by fate's irrevocable doom;
Perhaps Arsaces' fall—and angry heav'n
Speaks it, in thunder, to the trembling world.
Vardanes. Terror indeed! it seems as sick'ning Nature
Had giv'n her order up to gen'ral ruin;
The Heav'ns appear as one continu'd flame,
Earth with her terror shakes, dim night retires,
And the red lightning gives a dreadful day,
While in the thunder's voice each sound is lost;
Fear sinks the panting heart in ev'ry bosom,
E'en the pale dead, affrighted at the horror,
As tho' unsafe, start from their marble goals,
And howling thro' the streets are seeking shelter.
Lysias. I saw a flash stream thro' the angry clouds,
