Arsaces he dislikes, For standing 'twixt him, and the hope of Empire; While Envy, like a rav'nous Vulture, tears His canker'd heart, to see your Brother's triumph. GOTARZES. And yet Vardanes owes that hated Brother As much as I; 'twas summer last, as we Were bathing in Euphrates' flood, Vardanes Proud of strength would seek the further shore; But ere he the mid-stream gain'd, a poignant pain Shot thro' his well-strung nerves, contracting all, And the stiff joints refus'd their wonted aid. Loudly he cry'd for help, Arsaces heard, And thro' the swelling waves he rush'd to save His drowning Brother, and gave him life, And for the boon the Ingrate pays him hate. PHRAATES. There's something in the wind, for I've observ'd Of late he much frequents the Queen's apartment, And fain would court her favour, wild is she To gain revenge for fell Vonones' death, And firm resolves the ruin of Arsaces. Because that fill'd with filial piety, To save his Royal Sire, he struck the bold Presumptuous Traitor dead; nor heeds she The hand which gave her Liberty, nay rais'd her Again to Royalty. GOTARZES. Ingratitude, Thou hell-born fiend, how horrid is thy form! The Gods sure let thee loose to scourge mankind, And save them from an endless waste of thunder. PHRAATES. Yet I've beheld this now so haughty Queen, Bent with distress, and e'en by pride forsook, When following thy Sire's triumphant car, Her tears and ravings mov'd the senseless herd, And pity blest their more than savage breasts, With the short pleasure of a moment's softness. Thy Father, conquer'd by her charms (for what Can charm like mourning beauty), soon struck off Her chains, and rais'd her to his bed and throne. Adorn'd the brows of her aspiring Son, The fierce Vonones, with the regal crown Of rich Armenia, once the happy rule Of Tisaphernes, her deceased Lord. GOTARZES. And he in wasteful war return'd his thanks, Refus'd the homage he had sworn to pay, And spread Destruction ev'ry where around, 'Til from Arsaces' hand he met the fate His crimes deserv'd. PHRAATES. As yet your princely Brother Has scap'd Thermusa's rage, for still residing In peaceful times, within his Province, ne'er Has fortune blest her with a sight of him, On whom she'd wreck her vengeance. GOTARZES. She has won By spells, I think, so much on my fond father, That he is guided by her will alone. She rules the realm, her pleasure is a law, All offices and favours are bestow'd, As she directs. PHRAATES.