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Wild wrath will quickly swell his haughty breast,

Soon as he finds 't is but a shadowy blessing.—

'T was fav'ring accident discover'd to me

All that I know; this Evening as I stood

Alone, retir'd, in the still gallery,

That leads up to th' appartment of my Brother,

T' indulge my melancholy thoughts,—

. Proceed—

. A wretch approach'd with wary step, his eye

Spoke half his tale, denoting villany.

In hollow murmurs thus he question'd me.

Was I the Prince?— I answer'd to content him—

Then in his hand he held this paper forth.

"Take this," says he, "this Bethas greets thee with,

"Keep but your word our plot will meet success."

I snatch'd it with more rashness than discretion,

Which taught him his mistake. In haste he drew,

And aim'd his dagger at my breast, but paid

His life, a forfeit, for his bold presuming.

. O Villain! Villain!

. Here, read this, my Lord—

I read it, and cold horror froze my blood,

And shook me like an ague.

. Ha!—what's this?—

"Doubt not Arabia's aid, set me but free,

I 'll easy pass on the old cred'lous King,

For fair Evanthe's Father."— Thus to atoms—

Oh! could I tear these cursed traitors thus.

. Curses avail you nothing, he has pow'r,

And may abuse it to your prejudice.

. I am resolv'd—

. Tho' Pris'ner in his camp,

Yet, Bethas was attended like a Prince,

As tho' he still commanded the Arabians.

'T is true, when they approach'd the royal city,

He threw him into chains to blind our eyes,

A shallow artifice—

. That is a Truth.

. And, yet, he is your Son.

. Ah! that indeed—

. Why, that still heightens his impiety,

To rush to empire thro' his Father's blood,

And, in return of life, to give him death.

. Oh! I am all on fire, yes I must tear

These folds of venom from me.

. Sure 't was Lysias

That cross'd the passage now.

. 'T is to my wish.

I 'll in, and give him orders to arrest

My traitor Son and Bethas—Now, Vardanes,

Indulge thy Father in this one request—

Seize, with some horse, Evanthe, and bear her

To your command— Oh! I 'll own my weakness—

I love with fondness mortal never knew—

Not Jove himself, when he forsook his heav'n,

And in a brutal shape disgrac'd the God,

E'er lov'd like me.

. I will obey you, Sir.

I 'll seize her, but I 'll keep her for myself,

It were a sin to give her to his age—

To twine the blooming garland of the spring

Around the sapless trunks of wither'd oaks—

The night, methinks, grows ruder than it was,

Thus should it be, thus nature should be shock'd,

And Prodigies, affrighting all mankind,

Foretell the dreadful business I intend.

The earth should gape, and swallow cities up,

Shake from their haughty heights aspiring tow'rs,

And level mountains with the vales below;

The Sun amaz'd should frown in dark eclipse,

And light retire to its unclouded heav'n;

While darkness, bursting from her deep recess,

Should wrap all nature in eternal night.—

Ambition, glorious fever of the mind,

'T is that which raises us above mankind;

The shining mark which bounteous heav'n has gave,

From vulgar souls distinguishing the brave.

END OF THE THIRD ACT.