Page:Representative American plays.pdf/34

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Against th' opposing faction.

. Sure some God,

Bid you thus call me to my dawning honours,

And joyful I obey the pleasing summons.

Now by the pow'rs of heav'n, of earth and hell,

Most solemnly I swear, I will not know,

That quietude which I was wont to know,

'Til I have climb'd the height of all my wishes,

Or fell, from glory, to the silent grave.

. Nobly resolv'd, and spoken like Vardanes,

There shone my Prince in his superior lustre.

. But, then, Arsaces, he 's a fatal bar—

O! could I brush this busy insect from me,

Which envious strives to rob me of my bloom,

Then might I, like some fragrant op'ning flow'r,

Spread all my beauties in the face of day.

Ye Gods! why did ye give me such a soul

(A soul, which ev'ry way is form'd for Empire),

And damn me with a younger Brother's right?

The diadem would set as well on mine,

As on the brows of any lordly He;

Nor is this hand weak to enforce command.

And shall I steal into my grave, and give

My name up to oblivion, to be thrown

Among the common rubbish of the times?

No: Perish first, this happy hated Brother.

. I always wear a dagger, for your service,

I need not speak the rest—

When humbly I intreated of your Brother

T' attend him as Lieutenant in this war,

Frowning contempt, he haughtily reply'd,

He entertain'd not Traitors in his service.

True, I betray'd Orodes, but with cause,

He struck me, like a sorry abject slave,

And still withheld from giving what he'd promis'd.

Fear not Arsaces, believe me, he shall

Soon his Quietus have— But, see, he comes,—

What can this mean? Why at this lonely hour,

And unattended?— Ha! 't is opportune—

I 'll in, and stab him now I heed not what

The danger is, so I but have revenge,

Then heap perdition on me.

. Hold, awhile—

'T would be better could we undermine him,

And make him fall by Artabanus' doom.

. Well, be it so—

. But let us now retire,

We must not be observ'd together here.

'T is here that hapless Bethas is confin'd;

He who, but yesterday, like angry Jove,

When punishing the crimes of guilty men,

Spread death and desolation all around,

While trembl'd at his name; is now

Unfriended and forlorn, and counts the hours,

Wrapt in the gloomy horrors of a gaol.—

How dark, and hidden, are the turns of fate!

His rigid fortune moves me to compassion.

O! 't is a heav'nly virtue when the heart

Can feel the sorrows of another's bosom,

It dignifies the man: The stupid wretch

Who knows not this sensation, is an image,

And wants the feeling to make up a life—

I 'll in, and give my aid to sooth his sorrows.

. Let us observe with care, something we, yet,

May gather, to give to us the vantage;

No matter what 's the intent.

. How easy 't is

To cheat this busy, tattling, censuring world!

For fame still names our actions, good or bad,

As introduc'd by chance, which ofttimes throws