My father!  

Sir, my efcape

would rise in evidence to prove me guilty.

What said you, sir?

I turn a rebel! Horror's in the thought. ~

Your pardon, sir; ~ is this a father's counsel?

Guards, enter quick, bring me again my chains ~

conduce me to my prison.

Yet calm this transport ~ think on my afflction,

sir ~ father ~ turn ~ o grant one kind adieu.

Cruel sound!

O sir, reflect ~ Is this a time for nuptials,

when my unhappy brother ~

I tremble ~ hear me, sir, ~ O, if you love me,  

prevent this marriage.

Tho', by constraint, you seize my helpless hand,

my heart disdains the brutal violence.

How many links to dire misfortune's chain  

are woven in one day!

Stay, dear Mandane. ~  

Why this haste?

I attend the council.

I'll too attend, if ought within my power

may help my brother.

Our views are different; thou desir'st to save him;

I seek his death.

Is this a language for Arbaces' lover?

It well becomes the daughter of dead Xerxes.

Away, thou cruel maid!

Enforce his crime, and urge his speedy death.

But first prepare your heart, and quite erase

the soft remembrance of your former passion.

The tender hopes and fears, warm vows of truth,

fond sighs exchanged, and, last, the sweet idea

of that dear form, which first inspired your love.

Ah, barbarous Semira! thus to wake

my guilty pity; rebel to my duty.

Which fatal evil shall I first oppose?  

My princess, brother, this detested lover,

the king, my father, all are enemies;

and each attacks me in some tender part:

while I exert my pow'r against the one,

the others rush on my defenceless breast.

In him? does friendship so prevail over duty?

My brother comes.

Ah me!

Now prudence guide the reins of my affection.

Cease, busy heart, to flutter in my breast.

Am I so much the hatred of all Persia,  

that it unites to witness my misfortune?

My sovereign!

My father judge!

I'm chill'd with horror.

Naymore, the bloody sword, the time, the place,

and flight, conspire to fix the guilt on me,

and yet my heart is free; ~ I'm innocent.

Ah! forbear; ~

if you would have me with a steady mind,

support my sufferings; make not the assault

in such a tender part. ~ Barbarous father!

Be still, my beating heart.

My king, I find no crime to be defended,

nor motive for repentance; that's my answer.

Whether he plead or not,

he equally is guilty. ~ Where is justice?

Is this the father that should vindicate

his murdered king, and his own public shame?

Cruel Mandane! does thy voice condemn me?

Bear up, my heart.

Oh, gods!

O inhuman father!

Alas, my tears betray me.

Weeps Mandane,

in pity of my cruel destiny?

Pleasure may start a tear, as well as grief.

My patience, sir, begins at last to leave me:

in view o' th' world, to find myself exposed

a seeming guilty object; all my hopes

cut off i'th' bloom, the morn of life my end;

hated by Persia, by my king,

and her whom I adore: to know that you,

barbarous father, ~ (ah, I lose myself!)

Adieu.

(Going.)

I die.

(returning)

Stay, rash Arbaces!

Where wouldst thou go? Ah, sir, forgive your son;

behold me at your feet. ~

Excuse the transports of my frantic grief;

shed all my blood, 'tis yours, ~ I'll not complain;

but kifs the honour'd hand that sign'd my death.

Ah me! at poor Arbaces' parting  

I feel the stroke of death.

Savage, no more. ~

Avoid my presence: dare not to view the light

of sun or stars; but hide thy cruel head

within the deepest bowels of the earth.

Silence, inhuman!

The daughter ought to vindicate the father;

but thou, a father, shouldst have saved thy son.

Inhuman tyrant!

You first destroy your friend,

and then bewail him.

I thought you once

a tender lover, and a generous friend;

but in one instant you have proved yourself

in friendship false, and treacherous in love.