Curse on the marriage chain!--the clog, a wife, Who still will force and pall us with the joy, Tho' pow'r is wanting, and the will is cloy'd, Still urge the debt when Nothing's left to pay. QUEEN. Ha! dost thou own thy crime, nor feel the glow Of conscious shame? KING. Why should I blush, if heav'n Has made me as I am, and gave me passions? Blest only in variety, then blame The Gods, who form'd my nature thus, not me. QUEEN. Oh! Traitor! Villain! KING. Hence--away-- No more I'll wage a woman's war with words. [_Exit._ QUEEN. Down, down ye rising passions, give me ease, Or break my heart, for I must yet be calm-- But, yet, revenge, our Sex's joy, is mine; By all the Gods! he lives not till the morn. Who slights my love, shall sink beneath my hate. SCENE III. _QUEEN and VARDANES._ VARDANES. What, raging to the tempest? QUEEN. Away!--away!-- Yes, I will rage--a tempest's here within, Above the trifling of the noisy elements. Blow ye loud winds, burst with your violence, For ye but barely imitate the storm That wildly rages in my tortur'd breast-- The King--the King-- VARDANES. Ha! what?--the King? QUEEN. Evanthe! VARDANES. You talk like riddles, still obscure and short, Give me some cue to guide me thro' this maze. QUEEN. Ye pitying pow'rs!--oh! for a poison, some Curs'd deadly draught, that I might blast her beauties, And rob her eyes of all their fatal lustre. VARDANES. What, blast her charms?--dare not to think of it-- Shocking impiety;--the num'rous systems Which gay creation spreads, bright blazing suns, With all th' attendant planets circling round, Are not worth half the radiance of her eyes. She's heav'n's peculiar care, good spir'ts hover Round, a shining band, to guard her beauties. QUEEN. Be they watchful then: for should remissness Taint the guard, I'll snatch the opportunity, And hurl her to destruction. VARDANES. Dread Thermusa, Say, what has rous'd this tumult in thy soul? What dost thou rage with unabating fury, Wild as the winds, loud as the troubl'd sea? QUEEN. Yes, I will tell thee--Evanthe--curse her-- With charms--Would that my curses had the pow'r To kill, destroy, and blast where e'er I hate, Then would I curse, still curse, till death should seize The dying accents on my falt'ring tongue. So should this world, and the false changeling man Be buried in one universal ruin. VARDANES. Still err'st thou from the purpose. QUEEN. Ha! 'tis so-- Yes I will tell thee--for I know fond fool, Deluded wretch, thou dotest on Evanthe-- Be that thy greatest curse, be curs'd like me, With jealousy and rage, for know, the King, Thy father, is thy rival. SCENE IV. VARDANES [_alone_].