Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/154

Of the mysterious number, so that lovers shall155
Come hither, not as to a tomb, but to an oracle.

[She knocks, and raises the Court

Enter Orithie, Semanthe, with other Ladies and Courtiers, as out of their beds

Orb. Come, come! help me to weep myself away,
And melt into a grave! for life is but
Repentance' nurse, and will conspire with memory
To make my hours my tortures.160

Ori. What scene of sorrow's this? Both dead?

Orb. Dead? Ay,
And 'tis but half death's triumphs this: the king
And prince lie somewhere, just such empty trunks
As these.

Ori. The prince? Then in grief's burthen I
Must bear a part.

Sem. The noble Ariaspes!165
Valiant Ziriff, too![Weeps

Orb. Weep'st thou for him, fond prodigal? dost know
On whom thou spend'st thy tears? This is the man
To whom we owe our ills, the false Zorannes,
Disguis'd; not lost, but kept alive by some170

Enter Pasithas, surveys the bodies, finds his master

Incensed power, to punish Persia thus!
He would have kill'd me too; but heav'n was just,
And furnish'd me with means to make him pay
This score of vill'ny, ere he could do more.

Pas. Were you his murth'rer then?

[Runs to Orbella, kills her, and flies

Ori. Ah me! the queen!175

[They rub Orbella till she comes to herself

Sem. How do you do, madam?

Orb. Well; but I was better,
And shall——[Dies

Sem. O, she is gone for ever!

Enter Lords in their nightgowns, Orsames, Philan

Ors. What have we here?
A churchyard? Nothing but silence and grave!180

Ori. O, here has been, my lords, the blackest night
The Persian world e'er knew! The king and prince
Are not themselves exempt from this arrest;