Thomas Godfrey

“ Arsaces gains Evanthe, fills the throne,
While I am doom'd to foul obscurity,
To pine and grieve neglected.
Lysias. My noble Prince,
Would it not be a master-piece, indeed,
To make this very bliss their greatest ill,
And damn them in the very folds of joy?
Vardanes. This I will try, and stretch my utmost art,
Unknown is yet the means— We 'll think on that—
Success may follow if you'll lend your aid.
Lysias. The storm still rages— I must to the King,
And know what further orders ere he sleeps:
Soon I 'll return, and speak my mind more fully.
Vardanes. ”

“ Vardanes. Now shining Empire standing at the goal,
Beck'ns me forward to increase my speed;
But, yet, Arsaces lives, bane to my hopes,
Lysias I 'll urge to ease me of his life,
Then give the villain up to punishment.
The shew of justice gains the changeling croud,
Besides, I ne'er will harbour in my bosom
Such serpents, ever ready with their stings—
But now one hour for love and fair Evanthe—
Hence with ambition's cares—see, where reclin'd,
In slumbers all her sorrows are dismiss'd,
Sleep seems to heighten ev'ry beauteous feature,
And adds peculiar softness to each grace. ”

“ In sleep behold the image of the death I wish,
Forget my sorrows and heart-breaking anguish?
These horrors I would undisturb'd enjoy,
Attended only by my silent thoughts;
Is it to see the wretch that you have made;
To view the ruins of unhappy Bethas,
And triumph in my grief? Is it for this
You penetrate my dark joyless prison?
Arsaces. Oh! do not injure me by such suspicions.
Unknown to me are cruel scoffs and jests;
My breast can feel compassion's tenderness,
The warrior's warmth, the soothing joys of friendship. ”

“ He flies with eager haste the mind disturb'd,
And sheds his blessings where the soul's in peace.
Edessa. Yet, hear me, Madam!
Queen. Hence, away, Edessa,
For thou know'st not the pangs of jealousy.
Say, has he not forsook my bed, and left me
Like a lone widow mourning to the night?
This, with the injury his son has done me,
If I forgive, may heav'n in anger show'r
Its torments on me— Ha! is n't that the King!
Edessa. It is your Royal Lord, great Artabanus.
Queen. Leave me, for I would meet him here alone,
Something is lab'ring in my breast—
Scene 2. ”

“ Join with the servile croud, and hail his triumph.
Lysias. I hail him? By our glorious shining God,
I 'd sooner lose my speech, and all my days
In silence rest, conversing with my thoughts,
Than hail Arsaces.
Vardanes. Yet, again his name,
Sure there is magic in it, Parthia 's drunk
And giddy with the joy; the houses' tops
With gaping spectators are throng'd, nay wild
They climb such precipices that the eye
Is dazzl'd with their daring; ev'ry wretch
Who long has been immur'd, nor dar'd enjoy
The common benefits of sun and air,
Creeps from his lurking place ”

“ Are all my blessings then but vis'onary?
Methought I was arriv'd on that blest shore
Where happy souls for ever dwell, crown'd with
Immortal bliss; Arsaces led me through
The flow'ry groves, while all around me gleam'd
Thousand and thousand shades, who welcom'd me
With pleasing songs of joy—Vardanes, ha!—
Vardanes. Why beams the angry lightning of thine eye
Against thy sighing slave? Is love a crime?
Oh! if to dote, with such excess of passion
As rises e'en to mad extravagance
Is criminal, I then am so, indeed.
Evanthe. Away! vile man!—
Vardanes. ”

“ Vardanes. Why rage the elements, they are not curs'd
Like me? Evanthe frowns not angry on them,
The wind may play upon her beauteous bosom
Nor fear her chiding, light can bless her sense,
And in the floating mirror she beholds
Those beauties which can fetter all mankind.
Earth gives her joy, she plucks the fragrant rose,
Pleas'd takes its sweets, and gazes on its bloom.
Lysias. My Lord, forget her, tear her from your breast. ”

“ Whate'er designs thy daring breast can form,
Nor ever shake with fear.
Vardanes. And I will use it,
Come to my bosom, let me place thee here,
How happy am I clasping so much virtue!
Now, by the light, it is my firm belief,
One mighty soul in common swells our bosoms,
Such sameness can't be match'd in diff'rent beings.
Lysias. Your confidence, my Lord, much honours me,
And when I act unworthy of your love
May I be hooted from Society,
As tho' disgraceful to the human kind,
And driv'n to herd among the savage race.
Vardanes. ”

“ Arsaces. Play not thus cruel with my poor request,
But take my loving Father's thanks, and mine.
Queen. Thy Father cannot thank me now.
Arsaces. He will,
Believe me, e'en whilst dissolv'd in ecstacy
On fond Evanthe's bosom, he will pause,
One moment from his joys, to bless the deed.
Queen. What means this tumult in my breast? from whence
Proceeds this sudden change? my heart beats high,
And soft compassion makes me less than woman:
I 'll search no more for what I fear to know.
Arsaces. Why drops the dagger from thy trembling hand? ”

“ With heart-swoln ecstasy; now let me die.
Arsaces. What marble heart
Could see this scene unmov'd, nor give a tear?
My eyes grow dim, and sympathetic passion
Falls like a gushing torrent on my bosom.
Evanthe. O! happy me, this place, which lately seem'd
So fill'd with horror, now is pleasure's circle.
Here will I fix my seat; my pleasing task
Shall be to cherish thy remaining life.
All night I 'll keep a vigil o'er thy slumbers,
And on my breast repose thee, mark thy dreams,
And when thou wak'st invent some pleasing tale,
Or with my songs the tedious hours beguile.
Bethas. ”

“ I'll think no more, but rush to my revenge,
In spite of foolish fear, or woman's softness;
Be steady now my soul to thy resolves.
Yes, thou shalt die, thus, on thy breast, I write
Thy instant doom—ha!—ye Gods!
(Queen starts, as, in great fright, at hearing something.) Arsaces. Why this pause?
Why dost thou idly stand like imag'd vengeance,
With harmless terrors threatning on thy brow,
With lifted arm, yet canst not strike the blow?
Queen. It surely was the Echo to my fears,
The whistling wind, perhaps, which mimick'd voice ”

“ Suits not with charms like thine, they should command,
And ev'ry heart exult in thy behests;—
But, where's thy aged Sire?
Evanthe. This sudden turn
Of fortune has so wrought upon his frame,
His limbs could not support him to thy presence.
Arsaces. This, this is truly great, this is the Hero,
Like heav'n, to scatter blessings 'mong mankind
And e'er delight in making others happy.
Cold is the praise which waits the victor's triumph
(Who thro' a sea of blood has rush'd to glory) ,
To the o'erflowings of a grateful heart,
By obligations conquer'd: Yet, extend
Thy bounty unto me. ”

“ Lead me, Edessa, to some peaceful gloom,
Some silent shade far from the walks of men,
There shall the hop'd revenge my thoughts employ,
And sooth my sorrows with the coming joy.
Scene 4.
Evanthe and Cleone.
Evanthe. No, I 'll not meet him now, for love delights
In the soft pleasures of the secret shade,
And shuns the noise and tumult of the croud.
How tedious are the hours which bring him
To my fond, panting heart! for oh! to those
Who live in expectation of the bliss,
Time slowly creeps, and ev'ry tardy minute
Seems mocking of their wishes. ”

“ That urges my desires to ask your crown;
Let the vain wretch, who prides in gay dominion,
Who thinks not of the great ones' weighty cares,
Enjoy his lofty wish, wide spreading rule.
The treasure which I ask, put in the scale,
Would over-balance all that Kings can boast,
Empire and diadems.
King. Away, that thought—
Name it, haste—speak.
Arsaces. For all the dang'rous toil,
Thirst, hunger, marches long that I 've endur'd,
For all the blood I 've in thy service spent,
Reward me with Evanthe.
King. Ha! what said'st thou?—
Vardanes. (Aisde.) ”

“ The heav'ns, for heav'n was deaf to both our pray'rs.
The wretch whose insolent embrace confin'd me
(Like thunder bursting on the guilty soul)
With curs'd Vonones' voice pour'd in my ears
A hateful tale of love; for he it seems
Had seen me at Arabia's royal court,
And took those means to force me to his arms.
Cleone. Perhaps you may gain something from the Captives
Of your lost Parents.
Evanthe. This I meant to try,
Soon as the night hides Nature in her darkness,
Veil'd in the gloom we'll steal into their prison. ”

“ Cheats us with empty shews of happiness,
Swift fleeting joys which mock the faint embrace;
We wade thro' ills pursuing of the meteor,
Yet are distanc'd still.
Bethas. Ah! talk not of hope—
Hope fled when bright Astræa spurn'd this earth,
And sought her seat among the shining Gods;
Despair, proud tyrant, ravages my breast,
And makes all desolation.
Arsaces. How can I
Behold those rev'rent sorrows, see those cheeks
Moist with the dew which falls from thy sad eyes,
Nor imitate distraction's frantic tricks,
And chace cold lifeless reason from her throne? ”

“ Arsaces. Then, fear no more:
Give to guilty wretches painful terrors:
Whose keen remembrance raises horrid forms,
Shapes that in spite of nature shock their souls
With dreadful anguish: but thy gentle bosom,
Where innocence beams light and gayety,
Can never know a fear, now shining joy
Shall gild the pleasing scene.
Evanthe. Alas! this joy
I fear is like a sudden flame shot from
Th' expiring taper, darkness will ensue,
And double night I dread enclose us round.
Anxiety does yet disturb my breast,
And frightful apprehension shakes my soul.
Bethas. ”

“ Evanthe springs from me, whose fatal charms
Produces all this ruin.—Hear me heav'n!
If to another love she ever yields,
And stains her soul with spotted falsehood's crime,
If e'en in expectation tastes a bliss,
Nor joins Arsaces with it, I will wreck
My vengeance on her, so that she shall be
A dread example to all future times.
Arsaces. Oh! curse her not, nor threaten her with anger,
She is all gentleness, yet firm to truth,
And blest with ev'ry pleasing virtue, free
From levity, her sexes [7] character.
She scorns to chace the turning of the wind,
Varying from point to point. ”

“ All its decrees are just, complaints are impious,
Whate'er short-sighted mortals feel, springs from
Their blindness in the ways of Providence;
Sufficient wisdom 't is for man to know
That the great Ruler is e'er wise and good.
Arsaces. Ye figur'd stones!
Ye senseless, lifeless images of men,
Who never gave a tear to others' woe,
Whose bosoms never glow'd for others' good,
O weary heav'n with your repeated pray'rs,
And strive to melt the angry pow'rs to pity,
That ye may truly live.
Evanthe. Oh! how my heart
Beats in my breast, and shakes my trembling frame! ”

“ Virtue much like thine, the barb'rous clime teems
With nought else but villains vers'd in ill.
Arsaces. Dissimulation never mark'd my looks,
Nor flatt'ring deceit e'er taught my tongue,
The tale of falsehood, to disguise my thoughts:
To Virtue, and her fair companion, Truth,
I 've ever bow'd, their holy precepts kept,
And scann'd by them the actions of my life.
Suspicion surely ne'er disturbs the brave,
They never know the fears of doubting thoughts;
But free, as are the altars of the Gods,
From ev'ry hand receive the sacrifice.
Scene 7.
Arsaces, Bethas, Evanthe and Cleone. ”

“ 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 climb
Still eager for the combat, while the ground
Made slipp'ry by the gushing streams of gore
Is 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. ”

“ Arsaces. Immortals, hear!
Thus do I bow my soul in humble pray'r—
Thou, King of beings, in whose breath is fate,
Show'r on Evanthe all thy choicest blessings,
And bless her with excess of happiness;
If yet, there is one bliss reserv'd in store,
And written to my name, oh! give it her,
And give me all her sorrows in return.
Bethas. 'Rise, 'rise my Prince, this goodness o'erwhelms me,
She 's too unworthy of so great a passion.
Arsaces. I know not what it means, I 'm not as usual,
Ill-boding cares, and restless fears oppress me,
And horrid dreams disturb, and fright, my slumbers ”

“ Bethas. Most horrible indeed!—but let it pass,
'T is but the offspring of a mind disturb'd,
For sorrow leaves impressions on the fancy,
Which shew most fearful to us lock'd in sleep.
Arsaces. Thermusa! ha!—what can be her design?
She bears this way, and carries in her looks
An eagerness importing violence.
Retire—for I would meet her rage alone.
Scene 5.
Arsaces and Queen.
Arsaces. What means the proud Thermusa by this visit,
Stoops heav'n-born pity to a breast like thine?
Pity adorns th' virtuous, but ne'er dwells
Where hate, revenge, and rage distract the soul. ”

“ Pity should dwell within thy lovely breast,
That sacred temple ne'er was form'd for hate
A habitation; but a residence
For love and gaiety.
Evanthe. Oh! heav'ns!
Vardanes. That sigh,
Proclaims your kind consent to save Arsaces.
(Laying hold of her.) Evanthe. Ha! villain, off—unhand me—hence—
Vardanes. In vain is opportunity to those, who spend
An idle courtship on the fair, they well
Deserve their fate, if they 're disdain'd;—her charms
To rush upon, and conquer opposition,
Gains the Fair one's praise ”