FOOTNOTES:

I know this brav'ry is affected, yetIt gives me joy, to think my rival onlyCan in imagination taste thy beauties.Let him,—'twill ease him in his solitude,And gild the horrors of his prison-house,Till death shall—

Evanthe.

Ha! what was that? till death—ye Gods!Ah, now I feel distress's tort'ring pang—Thou canst not, villain—darst not think his death—O mis'ry!—

Vardanes.

Naught but your kindness saves him,Yet bless me, with your love, and he is safe;But the same frown which kills my growing hopes,Gives him to death.

Evanthe.

O horror, I could dieTen thousand times to save the lov'd Arsaces.Teach me the means, ye pow'rs, how to save him:Then lead me to what ever is my fate.

Vardanes.

Not only shall he die, but to thy viewI'll bring the scene, those eyes that take delightIn cruelty, shall have enough of death.E'en here, before thy sight, he shall expire,Not sudden, but by ling'ring torments; allThat mischief can invent shall be practis'dTo give him pain; to lengthen out his woeI'll search around the realm for skillful men,To find new tortures.

Evanthe.

Oh! wrack not thus my soul!

Vardanes.

The sex o'erflows with various humours, heWho catches not their smiles the very moment,Will lose the blessing—I'll improve this softness.—[Aside to her.Heav'n never made thy beauties to destroy,They were to bless, and not to blast mankind;Pity should dwell within thy lovely breast,That sacred temple ne'er was form'd for hateA habitation; but a residenceFor love and gaiety.

[Aside to her.

Evanthe.

Oh! heav'ns!

Vardanes.

That sigh,Proclaims your kind consent to save Arsaces.[Laying hold of her.

[Laying hold of her.

Evanthe.

Ha! villain, off—unhand me—hence—

Vardanes.

In vainIs opportunity to those, who spendAn idle courtship on the fair, they wellDeserve their fate, if they're disdain'd;—her charmsTo rush upon, and conquer opposition,Gains the Fair one's praise; an active loverSuits, who lies aside the coxcomb's empty whine,And forces her to bliss.

Evanthe.

Ah! hear me, hear me,Thus kneeling, with my tears, I do implore thee:Think on my innocence, nor force a joyWhich will ever fill thy soul with anguish.Seek not to load my ills with infamy,Let me not be a mark for bitter scorn,To bear proud virtue's taunts and mocking jeers,And like a flow'r, of all its sweetness robb'd,Be trod to earth, neglected and disdain'd,And spurn'd by ev'ry vulgar saucy foot.

Vardanes.

Speak, speak forever—music's in thy voice,Still attentive will I listen to thee,Be hush'd as night, charm'd with the magic sound.

Evanthe.

Oh! teach me, heav'n, soft moving eloquence,To bend his stubborn soul to gentleness.—Where is thy virtue? Where thy princely lustre?Ah! wilt thou meanly stoop to do a wrong,And stain thy honour with so foul a blot?Thou who shouldst be a guard to innocence.Leave force to brutes—for pleasure is not foundWhere still the soul's averse; horror and guilt,Distraction, desperation chace her hence.Some happier gentle Fair one you may find,Whose yielding heart may bend to meet your flame,In mutual love soft joys alone are found;When souls are drawn by secret sympathy,And virtue does on virtue smile.

Vardanes.

No more—Her heav'nly tongue will charm me from th' intent—Hence coward softness, force shall make me blest.

Evanthe.

Assist me, ye bless't pow'rs!—oh! strike, ye Gods!Strike me, with thunder dead, this moment, e'erI suffer violation—

Vardanes.

'Tis in vain,The idle pray'rs by fancy'd grief put up,Are blown by active winds regardless by,Nor ever reach the heav'ns.

Scene II.

Vardanes,EvantheandLysias.

Lysias.

Arm, arm, my Lord!—

Vardanes.

Damnation! why this interruption now?—

Lysias.

Oh! arm! my noble Prince, the foe's upon us.Arsaces, by Barzaphernes releas'd,Join'd with the citizens, assaults the Palace,And swears revenge for Artabanus' death.

Vardanes.

Ha! what? revenge for Artabanus' death?—'Tis the curse of Princes that their counsels,Which should be kept like holy mysteries,Can never rest in silent secrecy.Fond of employ, some cursed tattling tongueWill still divulge them.

Lysias.

Sure some fiend from hell,In mischief eminent, to cross our views,Has giv'n th' intelligence, for man could not.

Evanthe.

Oh! ever blest event!—All-gracious heav'n!This beam of joy revives me.

Scene III.

Vardanes,Evanthe,Lysias, to them, anOfficer.

Officer.

Haste! my Lord!Or all will soon be lost; tho' thrice repuls'dBy your e'erfaithful guards, they still returnWith double fury.

Vardanes.

Hence, then, idle love—Come forth, my trusty sword—curs'd misfortune!—Had I but one short hour, without reluctance,I'd meet them, tho' they brib'd the pow'rs of hell,To place their furies in the van: Yea, rushTo meet this dreadful Brother 'midst the war—Haste to the combat—Now a crown or death—The wretch who dares to give an inch of groundTill I retire, shall meet the death he shun'd.Away—away! delays are dang'rous now—

Scene IV.

Evanthe[alone].

Now heav'n be partial to Arsaces' cause,Nor leave to giddy chance when virtue strives;Let victory sit on his warlike helm,For justice draws his sword: be thou his aid,And let the opposer's arm sink with the weightOf his most impious crimes—be still my heart,For all that thou canst aid him with is pray'r.Oh! that I had the strength of thousands in me!Or that my voice could wake the sons of menTo join, and crush the tyrant!—

Scene V.

EvantheandCleone.

Evanthe.

My Cleone—Welcome thou partner of my joys and sorrows.

Cleone.

Oh! yonder terror triumphs uncontroul'd,And glutton death seems never satisfy'd.Each soft sensation lost in thoughtless rage,And breast to breast, oppos'd in furious war,The fiery Chiefs receive the vengeful steel.O'er lifeless heaps of men the soldiers climbStill eager for the combat, while the groundMade slipp'ry by the gushing streams of goreIs treach'rous to their feet.—Oh! horrid sight!—Too much for me to stand, my life was chill'd,As from the turret I beheld the fight,It forc'd me to retire.

Evanthe.

What of Arsaces?

Cleone.

I saw him active in the battle, now,Like light'ning, piercing thro' the thickest foe,Then scorning to disgrace his sword in lowPlebeian blood—loud for Vardanes call'd—To meet him singly, and decide the war.

Evanthe.

Save him, ye Gods!—oh! all my soul is fear—Fly, fly Cleone, to the tow'r again,See how fate turns the ballance; and pursueArsaces with thine eye; mark ev'ry blow,Observe if some bold villain dares to urgeHis sword presumptuous at my Hero's breast.Haste, my Cleone, haste, to ease my fears.

Scene VI.

Evanthe[alone].

Ah!—what a cruel torment is suspense!My anxious soul is torn 'twixt love and fear,Scarce can I please me with one fancied blissWhich kind imagination forms, but reason,Proud, surly reason, snatches the vain joy,And gives me up again to sad distress.Yet I can die, and should Arsaces fallThis fatal draught shall ease me of my sorrows.

Scene VII.

Cleone[alone].

Oh! horror! horror! horror!—cruel Gods!—I saw him fall—I did—pierc'd thro' with wounds—Curs'd! curs'd Vardanes!—hear'd the gen'ral cry,Which burst, as tho' all nature had dissolv'd.Hark! how they shout! the noise seems coming this way.

Scene VIII.

Arsaces,Gotarzes,BarzaphernesandOfficers, withVardanesandLysias, prisoners.

Arsaces.

Thanks to the ruling pow'rs who blest our arms,Prepare the sacrifices to the Gods,And grateful songs of tributary praise.—Gotarzes, fly, my Brother, find Evanthe,And bring the lovely mourner to my arms.

Gotarzes.

Yes, I'll obey you, with a willing speed.[ExitGotarzes.

[ExitGotarzes.

Arsaces.

Thou, Lysias, from yon tow'r's aspiring heightBe hurl'd to death, thy impious hands are stain'dWith royal blood—Let the traitor's bodyBe giv'n to hungry dogs.

Lysias.

Welcome, grim death!—I've fed thy maw with Kings, and lack no moreRevenge—Now, do thy duty, Officer.

Officer.

Yea, and would lead all traitors gladly thus,—The boon of their deserts.

Scene IX.

Arsaces, Vardanes, Barzaphernes.

Arsaces.

But for Vardanes,The Brother's name forgot—

Vardanes.

You need no more,I know the rest—Ah! death is near, my woundsPermit me not to live—my breath grows short,Curs'd be Phraates' arm which stop'd my sword,Ere it had reach'd thy proud exulting heart.But the wretch paid dear for his presuming;A just reward.—

Arsaces.

He sinks, yet bear him up—

Vardanes.

Curs'd be the multitude which o'erpow'r'd me,And beat me to the ground, cover'd with wounds—But, oh! 'tis done! my ebbing life is done—I feel death's hand upon me—Yet, I dieJust as I wish, and daring for a crown,Life without rule is my disdain; I scornTo swell a haughty Brother's sneaking train,To wait upon his ear with flatt'ring tales,And court his smiles; come, death, in thy cold arms,Let me forget Ambition's mighty toil,And shun the triumphs of a hated Brother—O! bear me off—Let not his eyes enjoyMy agonies—My sight grows dim with death.[They bear him off.

[They bear him off.

Scene(the Last).

Arsaces,Gotarzes,Barzaphernes, andEvanthesupported.

Evanthe.

Lead me, oh! lead me, to my lov'd Arsaces.Where is he?—

Arsaces.

Ha! what's this?—Just heav'ns!—my fears—

Evanthe.

Arsaces, oh! thus circl'd in thy arms,I die without a pang.

Arsaces.

Ha! die?—why stare ye,Ye lifeless ghosts? Have none of ye a tongueTo tell me I'm undone?

Gotarzes.

Soon, my Brother,Too soon, you'll know it by the sad effects;And if my grief will yet permit my tongueTo do its office, thou shalt hear the tale.Cleone, from the turret, view'd the battle,And on Phraates fix'd her erring sight,Thy brave unhappy friend she took for thee,By his garb deceiv'd, which like to thine he wore.Still with her eye she follow'd him, where e'erHe pierc'd the foe, and to Vardanes' swordShe saw him fall a hapless victim, then,In agonies of grief, flew to Evanthe,And told the dreadful tale—the fatal bowlI saw—

Arsaces.

Be dumb, nor ever give againFear to the heart, with thy ill-boding voice.

Evanthe.

Here, I'll rest, till death, on thy lov'd bosom,Here let me sigh my—Oh! the poison works—

Arsaces.

Oh! horror!—

Evanthe.

Cease—this sorrow pains me moreThan all the wringing agonies of death,The dreadful parting of the soul from, this,Its wedded clay—Ah! there—that pang shot thro'My throbbing heart—

Arsaces.

Save her, ye Gods!—oh! save her!And I will bribe ye with clouds of incense;Such num'rous sacrifices, that your altarsShall even sink beneath the mighty load.

Evanthe.

When I am dead, dissolv'd to native dust,Yet let me live in thy dear mem'ry—One tear will not be much to give Evanthe.

Arsaces.

My eyes shall e'er two running fountains be,And wet thy urn with overflowing tears,Joy ne'er again within my breast shall findA residence—Oh! speak, once more—

Evanthe.

Life's just out—My Father—Oh! protect his honour'd age,And give him shelter from the storms of fate,He's long been fortune's sport—Support me—Ah!—I can no more—my glass is spent—farewell—Forever—Arsaces!—Oh![Dies.

[Dies.

Arsaces.

Stay, oh! stay,Or take me with thee—dead! she's cold and dead!Her eyes are clos'd, and all my joys are flown—Now burst ye elements, from your restraint,Let order cease, and chaos be again.Break! break, tough heart!—oh! torture—life dissolve—Why stand ye idle? Have I not one friendTo kindly free me from this pain? One blow,One friendly blow would give me ease.

Barzaphernes.

The GodsForefend!—Pardon me, Royal Sir, if IDare, seemingly disloyal, seize your sword,Despair may urge you far—

Arsaces.

Ha! traitors! rebels!—Hoary rev'rend Villain! what, disarm me?Give me my sword—what, stand ye by, and seeYour Prince insulted? Are ye rebels all?—

Barzaphernes.

Be calm, my gracious Lord!

Gotarzes.

Oh! my lov'd Brother!

Arsaces.

Gotarzes too! all! all! conspir'd against me?Still, are ye all resolv'd that I must live,And feel the momentary pangs of death?—Ha!—this, shall make a passage for my soul—[SnatchesBarzaphernes'sword.Out, out vile cares, from your distress'd abode—[Stabs himself.

[SnatchesBarzaphernes'sword.

[Stabs himself.

Barzaphernes.

Oh! ye eternal Gods!

Gotarzes.

Distraction! heav'ns!I shall run mad—

Arsaces.

Ah! 'tis in vain to grieve—The steel has done its part, and I'm at rest.—Gotarzes, wear my crown, and be thou blest,Cherish, Barzaphernes, my trusty chief—I faint, oh! lay me by Evanthe's side—Still wedded in our deaths—Bethas—

Barzaphernes.

Despair,My Lord, has broke his heart, I saw him stretch'd,Along the flinty pavement, in his gaol—Cold, lifeless—

Arsaces.

He's happy then—had he heardThis tale, he'd—Ah! Evanthe chides my soul,For ling'ring here so long—another pangAnd all the world, adieu—oh! adieu!—[Dies.

[Dies.

Gotarzes.

Oh!Fix me, heav'n, immoveable, a statue,And free me from o'erwhelming tides of grief.

Barzaphernes.

Oh! my lov'd Prince, I soon shall follow thee;Thy laurel'd glories whither are they fled?—Would I had died before this fatal day!—Triumphant garlands pride my soul no more,No more the lofty voice of war can charm—And why then am I here? Thus then—[Offers to stab himself.

[Offers to stab himself.

Gotarzes.

Ah! hold,Nor rashly urge the blow—think of me, andLive—My heart is wrung with streaming anguish,Tore with the smarting pangs of woe, yet, will IDare to live, and stem misfortune's billows.Live then, and be the guardian of my youth,And lead me on thro' virtue's rugged path.

Barzaphernes.

O, glorious youth, thy words have rous'd theDrooping genius of my soul; thus, let meClasp thee, in my aged arms; yes, I will live—Live, to support thee in thy kingly rights,And when thou 'rt firmly fix'd, my task's perform'd,My honourable task—Then I'll retire,Petition gracious heav'n to bless my work,And in the silent grave forget my cares.

Gotarzes.

Now, to the Temple, let us onward move,And strive t' appease the angry pow'rs above.Fate yet may have some ills reserv'd in store,Continu'd curses, to torment us more.Tho', in their district, Monarchs rule alone,Jove sways the mighty Monarch on his throne:Nor can the shining honours which they wear,Purchase one joy, or save them from one care.

Finis.

FOOTNOTES:[5]The Tigris.

[5]The Tigris.

TRANSCRIBERS' NOTESPage 21: Thomas Godfrey's date of birth corrected from 1763 to 1736.Page 78: appartment as in original.Page 93: "this gloomy goal" as in original. Should perhaps be gloomy gaol.

Page 21: Thomas Godfrey's date of birth corrected from 1763 to 1736.

Page 78: appartment as in original.

Page 93: "this gloomy goal" as in original. Should perhaps be gloomy gaol.

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