The Prince of Parthia: A Tragedy

_ARSACES, BARZAPHERNES and GOTARZES._

Barzaphernes. At length we've forc'd our entrance-- O my lov'd Prince! to see thee thus, indeed, Melts e'en me to a woman's softness; see My eyes o'erflow--Are these the ornaments For Royal hands? rude manacles! oh shameful! Is this thy room of state, this gloomy goal? Without attendance, and thy bed the pavement? But, ah! how diff'rent was our parting last! When flush'd with vict'ry, reeking from the slaughter, You saw Arabia's Sons scour o'er the plain In shameful flight, before your conqu'ring sword; Then shone you like the God of battle.

Arsaces. Welcome! Welcome, my loyal friends! Barzaphernes! My good old soldier, to my bosom thus! Gotarzes, my lov'd Brother! now I'm happy.-- But, say, my soldier, why these threatning arms? Why am I thus releas'd by force? my Father, I should have said the King, had he relented, He'd not have us'd this method to enlarge me. Alas! I fear, too forward in your love, You'll brand me with the rebel's hated name.

Barzaphernes. I am by nature blunt--the soldier's manner. Unus'd to the soft arts practis'd at courts. Nor can I move the passions, or disguise The sorr'wing tale to mitigate the smart. Then seek it not: I would sound the alarm, Loud as the trumpet's clangour, in your ears; Nor win I hail you, as our Parthia's King, 'Til you've full reveng'd your Father's murther.

Arsaces. Murther?--good heav'n!

Barzaphernes. The tale requires some time; And opportunity must not be lost; Your traitor Brother, who usurps your rights, Must, ere his faction gathers to a head, Have from his brows his new-born honours torn.

Arsaces. What, dost thou say, murther'd by Vardanes? Impious parricide!--detested villain!-- Give me a sword, and onward to the charge, Stop gushing tears, for I will weep in blood, And sorrow with the groans of dying men.-- Revenge! revenge!--oh!--all my soul's on fire!

Gotarzes. 'Twas not Vardanes struck the fatal blow, Though, great in pow'r usurp'd, he dares support The actor, vengeful Lysias; to his breast He clasps, with grateful joy, the bloody villain; Who soon meant, with ruffian wiles, to cut You from the earth, and also me.

Arsaces. Just heav'ns!-- But, gentle Brother, how didst thou elude The vigilant, suspicious, tyrant's craft?

Gotarzes. Phraates, by an accident, obtain'd The knowledge of the deed, and warn'd by him I bent my flight toward the camp, to seek Protection and revenge; but scarce I'd left The city when I o'ertook the Gen'ral.

Barzaphernes. Ere the sun 'rose I gain'd th' intelligence: The soldiers when they heard the dreadful tale, First stood aghast, and motionless with horror. Then suddenly, inspir'd with noble rage, Tore up their ensigns, calling on their leaders To march them to the city instantly. I, with some trusty few, with speed came forward, To raise our friends within, and gain your freedom. Nor hazard longer, by delays, your safety. Already faithful Phraates has gain'd A num'rous party of the citizens; With these we mean t' attack the Royal Palace, Crush the bold tyrant with surprise, while sunk In false security; and vengeance wreck, Ere that he thinks the impious crime be known.

Arsaces. O! parent being, Ruler of yon heav'n! Who bade creation spring to order, hear me. What ever sins are laid upon my soul, Now let them not prove heavy on this day, To sink my arm, or violate my cause. The sacred rights of Kings, my Country's wrongs, The punishment of fierce impiety, And a lov'd Father's death, call forth my sword.--

Now on; I feel all calm within my breast, And ev'ry busy doubt is hush'd to rest; Smile heav'n propitious on my virtuous cause, Nor aid the wretch who dares disdain your laws.

_End of the Fourth Act._