Ah! that indeed-- VARDANES. Why, that still heightens his impiety, To rush to empire thro' his Father's blood, And, in return of life, to give him death. KING. Oh! I am all on fire, yes I must tear These folds of venom from me. VARDANES. Sure 'twas Lysias That cross'd the passage now. KING. 'Tis 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. VARDANES. I will obey you, Sir. SCENE IX. VARDANES [_alone_]. 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, 'Tis 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._ ACT IV. SCENE I. _A Prison._ _GOTARZES and PHRAATES._ PHRAATES. Oh! fly my Prince, for safety dwells not here, Hence let me urge thy flight with eager haste. Last night thy Father sigh'd his soul to bliss, Base murther'd-- GOTARZES. Murther'd? ye Gods!-- PHRAATES. Alas! 'tis true. Stabb'd in his slumber by a traitor's hand; I scarce can speak it--horror choaks my words-- Lysias it was who did the damned deed, Urg'd by the bloody Queen, and his curs'd rage, Because the King, thy Sire, in angry mood, Once struck him on his foul dishonest cheek. Suspicion gave me fears of this, when first I heard, the Prince, Arsaces, was imprison'd, By fell Vardanes' wiles. GOTARZES. Oh! horror! horror! Hither I came to share my Brother's sorrows, To mingle tears, and give him sigh for sigh; But this is double, double weight of woe. PHRAATES.