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Still silence reigns around, suspicion sleeps,

and unperceiv'd, you may escape these walls.

Adieu, my love; o think on thy Arbaces.

Yet stay, sweet youth, a few short minutes stay.

Ador'd Mandane! see the dawn appears.

Alas! thou know'st that for my love to thee,

the king, great Xerxes, thy too rigid father,

has banish'd me the palace; should he know,

that in defiance of his stern command,

I have presum'd to scale this garden wall,

how little would a lover's plea avail,

when thou, his daughter, could'st not move his pity.

Thy noble father, mighty Artabanes,

disposes at his will the heart of Xerxes,

and the young prince my brother, Artaxerxes,

brought up with thee in virtuous emulation,

honours thy worth, and boasts thy valu'd friendship;

their interest joined may soften his resentment.

Weak are their efforts, while his kingly pride

disdains to rank a princess with a subject.

My spirits sink, my heart forgets to beat,

I have not fortitude to bear thy loss. ~

And must we part? ~ Then all good angels guard thee!

Adieu, thou lovely youth,

let hope thy fears remove;

preserve thy faith and truth,

but never doubt my love.

(Exit.)

O cruel parting! how can I survive?

Divided thus from all that's sweet and fair,

from her, for whom alone I live. ~

My father!

Sir, I obey.

'Tis drench'd in blood!

Forbid it, heav'n!

Would I had ne'er been born.

I'm all confusion ~

O fatal day ~ unhappy, lost Arbaces.

Amid a thousand racking woes,

I pant, I tremble, and I feel,

cold blood from ev'ry vein distill,

and clog my lab'ring heart.

I see my fair, one's lost repose,

and o! lament the fatal curse;

that he who gave me life cou'd thus

from virtue's laws depart.

(Exit.)

Stay, Artaxerxes, stay.

And dost thou fly me? Go then cruel prince,

no more shall ill-tim'd fondness importune thee.

I fear some dread disaster ~ say, Rimenes;

what means this strange confusion in the prince?

O fatal deed! th'effect of wild ambition;

heav'n knows if Artaxerxes' life be safe.

Think not that love can find a place to enter,

when the sad heart's surrounded with misfortunes;

leave me, Rimenes, to my troubled thoughts.

Ye gods, protectors of the Persian empire,

preserve my Artaxerxes ~ Yet he blest ~

Semira's state is wretched; Xerxes dead,

this prince will mount the throne:

belov'd by me, and rais'd above my hopes,

the hand which he intreated, when a subject,

when sov'reign of Persia he'll disdain.

How hard is my fate,

how desp'rate my state,

when virtue and honour excite,

to suffer distress,

contented to bless,

the object in whom I delight.

Yet midst all the woes,

my soul undergoes,

thro' virtue's too rigid decree,

I'll scorn to complain,

if the force of my pain

awaken his pity for me.

(Exit.)

Where do I fly? ~ Ah, hapless maid! ~

Thus, in one fatal instant,

to lose a brother, father, and a lover!

Does Darius live?

Or are thy guilty hands

imbru'd in brother's blood?

See, Artabanes comes.

O dire misfortune!

O Artaxerxes!

Darius is not guilty of the murder.

What do I hear?

The assassin is secur'd.

Your watchful sentinels, when he had leap'd

the garden wall, o'ertook him as he fled.

His deep confusion, palid countenance,

and sword yet reeking with the crimson blood,

strongly proclaim him guilty.

At my request to know it,

all hung their heads in silence.

Leave me not in this distress. ~

Where is my friend Arbaces?

My brother!

Oh, ye gods! my lover!

I'm innocent.

I am not guilty, that’s my only plea.

But your resentment 'gainst the king ~ ~

Was just.

I did.

This thy reserve ~ ~

Is requisite.

Is suited to th'occasion.

Was in the scabbard, when you took me prisoner.

Great sir, I still assert my innocence.

And does my father join in my destruction?

Ye cruel gods, what crime have I committed,

to draw relentless vengeance on my head? ~

Semira! sister! hear me with compassion.

Acquit thee of this soul offence,

return with spotless innocence;

then shall my hapless brother see,

that never sister lov'd like me.

(Exit.)

Appearance, I must own, is strong against me,

but truth is on my side ~ I'm innocent.

Ah, dear Rimenes, pity my hard fate, ~

my friend!

Beauteous Mandane, turn at least and hear me.

Away! you fue in vain.

(Going.)

O stay, I charge thee ~ ~

think on my former love.

'Tis turn'd to hate.

And you believe me guilty?

I am convinc'd.

O too lovely, too unkind,

if my lips no credit find,

pierce my breast; my heart shall prove

strong in virtue, firm in love;

guiltless, wretched, left forlorn,

and worse than murdered by thy scorn.

(Exit guarded.)

Dear and beloved shade of my dead father,

thee I invoke to spirit up my rage,

left fond credulity too strongly plead,

and turn my purpose from a just revenge;

for, oh, I feel the tyrant love within,

he rends my breast, he struggles for Arbaces;

help me kind gods, to tear away his image.

Fly, soft ideas, fly;

that neither tear nor sigh,

my virtue may betray:

nature's great call,

that governs all,

a daughter must obey.

Alas my soul denies

to hear revenge's cries;

dare not, fond heart,

to take his part,

but drive his form away.

(Exit.)

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.

Disdainful you fly me,

in anger exclaim;

all comfort deny me,

and murder my fame.

No grief can the heart

to pity incline,

that bears not a part,

in sorrow like mine.

Nature's tender plea is vain;

welcome then my chains again.

O rigour unjust!

o counsel accurst!

ambition ill-plac'd;

my virtue disgrac'd;

the pains I endure,

death only can cure.

Disdainful you fly me,

in anger exclaim;

all comfort deny me,

and murder my fame.

No grief can the heart

to pity incline,

that bears not a part,

in sorrow like mine.

Nature's tender plea is vain;

welcome then my chains again.

(Exit with the guards.)

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.

If o'er the cruel tyrant love,

a conquest I believed;

the flatt'ring error cease to prove;

let me be deceiv'd.

Forbear to fan the gentle flame,

which love did first create;

what was my pride is now my shame,

and must be turned to hate.

Then call not to my wav'ring mind,

the weakness of my heart;

which, ah; I feel too much inclined

to take the traitor’s part.

(Exit.)

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.

If the river's swelling waves

overflow their usual bed;

scarce th'affrighted peasant saves,

from the flood his homely shed.

Tho' he stop one open shore,

where the waters swistly glide,

in an hundred places more,

rushes in th'impetuous tide.

(Exit.)

In him? does friendship so prevail over duty?

My brother comes.

Ah me!

(aside)

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!

(aside)

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?

(aside)

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.

By that beloved embrace,

by this my fond adieu,

deplore my halpless case,

condemn'd, alas! for you.

Appease my love, my truth commend,

yourself preserve, my king defend.

My sentence I obey,

to filial duty true;

and scarce have power to say

a long and last adieu!

(Exit, guarded.)

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.

Monster, away!

from chearful day;

to the gloomy desart fly:

paths explore,

where lions roar,

and devouring tigers lie.

Tho' for food,

they wade in blood,

all to save their young agree;

every creature,

fierce by nature,

harmless is compar'd to thee.

(Exit.)

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.

This bosom, a stranger to rest,

resentment and pity assail,

as both for dominion contest,

so both, to my sorrow, prevail:

my heart, in this desperate state,

to give each assailant its due,

now bleeds for my brother's hard fate,

and burns with resentment to you.

(Exit.)

Why is death for ever late,

so conclude a wretch's woe;

those who live in happy state,

feel too soon th' untimely blow.

Gracious heaven, what's this I see!

Does royal Artaxerxes deign to visit

the wretch Arbaces, in this horrid gloom!

To save me!

Your pardon, sir, the world esteems me guilty ~

then let me die; your honour, sir, requires it.

Happy my exit, having once preferred

my sovereign's life, and now his spotless honour.

In gratitude to thy exalted friendship,

I'll quit this scene of horror and despair.

But oh! Thus exiled, I shall only fly,

restless to tread the paths of misery.

Water parted from the sea,

may increase the river's tide;

to the bubbling fount may flee,

or thro' fertile valley's glide:

yet in search of lost repose,

doom'd like me, forlorn to roam,

still it murmurs as it flows,

till it reach its native home.

(Exit.)

Perhaps the king released Arbaces.

No ~ rather destroyed him,

How!

'Tis known to all;

in secret he resigned his wretched life.

O hapless youth! O tidings worse than death!

I hope your vengeance now is satisfyed ~

or would you other victims? ~ speak.

I cannot;

light cares are ever sosten'd by complaint;

but such as mine, arrest the power of speech.

Ne'er lived a heart more lost to sense of pity.

All eyes in Persia wail his hapless fate;

but yours are dry.

The deeper my affliction:

small is the grief that vents itfelf in tears.

Go, if not satisfy'd, and feast your eyes

upon the slaughter'd spoils of my dear brother;

with secret joy, number his bloody wounds.

Be silent ~ leave me.

Never; while thou liv'st,

I'll haunt thee like a spirit, and my wrongs

shall dash thy hopes with bitterness and woe.

You think me cruel, and denounce revenge. ~

Ah! how have I deserved thy enmity?

Let not rage, thy bosom firing,

pity's softer claim remove;

spare a heart that's just expiring,

forced by duty, rack'd by love.

Each ungentle thought suspending,

judge of mine, by thy soft breast;

nor with rancour never ending,

heap fresh sorrows on th' oppress'd.

Let not rage thy bosom firing,

pity's softer claim remove;

spare a heart that's just expiring,

forced by duty, rack'd by love.

Heaven, that every joy has crost,

ne'er my wretched state can mend;

I, alas! at once have lost,

father, brother, lover, friend.

(Exit.)

What have I done! alas, I vainly thought,

div'iding grief, to lessen my affliction;

these cruel insults, vented on Mandane,

have pierced her breast, and not relieved my own.

'Tis not true, that in our grief,

others, weeping in distress,

to our troubles bring relief,

making each misfortune less.

No, when sore oppress'd by fate,

better 'tis to sigh alone,

than support a double weight,

other's sorrows, and ouwn.

(Exit.)

Nor here my searching eyes can find Mandane.

Fain would my heart, before external exile,

indulge its fondness with a last adieu.

Perhaps, this way ~ but whither do I wander?

Rash man ~ or heavenly pow'rs behold her there!

My spirits fail me ~ yet I'll speak ~ Mandane!

Ye powers! Arbaces! and at liberty!

A friendly hand unlock'd my cruel fetters.

Ah! fly, begone.

How can I part, for ever, from such beauty?

Perfidious traitor! what wouldst thou with me?

Am I no longer dear to my Mandane?

Thou art become the object of my hate.

Barbarous maid! my death shall end thy scorn.

I fly to meet my fate ~ adieu ~ for ever.

(Going.)

Hear me, Arbaces.

Ha! what torture more?

I cannot speak.

O heaven!

Fly, save thyself.

What means my princess? ~ this returning pity ~

Does not arise from love ~ but fly ~ and live.

For thee I live, my dearest;

but if I meet disdain,

for thee, my dear, I'll die.

How lovely thou appearest,

my blushes will explain.

I can no more reply.

Then hear me,

No.

Thou art ~

Divide not thus my heart:

leave me ~ in pity go.

Fly quick, my liege; thousands of rebel troops

surround the palace, by Rimenes led;

your death is plotted, and your guards corrupted.

Hold, brother, the rebellious crew are fled.

Led by false Rimenes,

they forced the gates, and enter'd, when Arbaces

departing to eternal banishiment,

his single breast opposed, and swore to die

in his great master's cause: all dropp'd their arms,

except that daring rebel at their head

on him Arbaces, like a lion, flew,

clove thro' his helmet, flew him, and revenged thee.

My heart respires!

O loyal brother!

Valour suppress'd, now springs again to glory.

The soldier, tired of war's alarms,

forswears the clang of hostile arms,

and scorns the spear and shield:

but if the brazen trumpet sound,

he burns with conquest to be crown'd,

and dares again the field.

Behold, my king, Arbaces at thy feet.

Yet that my brother may with better grace

reward this deed, and satisfy the people,

some reason give us for the bloody sword,

thy tim'rous flight, and all that waked suspicion.

If deeds, not words, proclaim a loyal heart,

permit me to be silcnt ~ I am innocent.

I am prepar'd.

Resplendent god, by whom sweet April blooms,

thou genial beam that warms us and enlightens!

If my treach'rous lips

have utter'd falshood, may this wholesome draught

change, as it passes, into ~

Then I disdain to live.

I will die for him:

my blood is his, and shall attone his crimes.

Sure heaven inspired the merciful decree;

Arbaces and Semira must approve it;

tho' for his crimes the father justly suffers,

his life is spared, that you, his guiltless children

may not be ever wretched in his death.