_Myr._ Oh, Monarch, listen.-- How many a day and moon thou hast reclined Within these palace walls in silken dalliance, 580 And never shown thee to thy people's longing; Leaving thy subjects' eyes ungratified, The satraps uncontrolled, the Gods unworshipped, And all things in the anarchy of sloth, Till all, save evil, slumbered through the realm! And wilt thou not now tarry for a day,-- A day which may redeem thee? Wilt thou not Yield to the few still faithful a few hours, For them, for thee, for thy past fathers' race, And for thy sons' inheritance? _Pan._ 'Tis true! 590 From the deep urgency with which the Prince Despatched me to your sacred presence, I Must dare to add my feeble voice to that Which now has spoken. _Sar._ No, it must not be. _Myr._ For the sake of thy realm! _Sar._ Away! _Pan._ For that Of all thy faithful subjects, who will rally Round thee and thine. _Sar._ These are mere fantasies: There is no peril:--'tis a sullen scheme Of Salemenes, to approve his zeal, And show himself more necessary to us. 600 _Myr._ By all that's good and glorious take this counsel. _Sar._ Business to-morrow. _Myr._ Aye--or death to-night. _Sar._ Why let it come then unexpectedly, 'Midst joy and gentleness, and mirth and love; So let me fall like the plucked rose!--far better Thus than be withered. _Myr._ Then thou wilt not yield, Even for the sake of all that ever stirred A monarch into action, to forego A trifling revel. _Sar._ No. _Myr._ Then yield for _mine_; For my sake! _Sar._ Thine, my Myrrha! _Myr._ 'Tis the first 610 Boon which I ever asked Assyria's king. _Sar._ That's true, and, wer't my kingdom, must be granted. Well, for thy sake, I yield me. Pania, hence! Thou hear'st me. _Pan._ And obey. [_Exit_ PANIA. _Sar._ I marvel at thee. What is thy motive, Myrrha, thus to urge me? _Myr._ Thy safety; and the certainty that nought Could urge the Prince thy kinsman to require Thus much from thee, but some impending danger. _Sar._ And if I do not dread it, why shouldst thou? _Myr._ Because _thou_ dost not fear, I fear for _thee_. 620 _Sar._ To-morrow thou wilt smile at these vain fancies. _Myr._ If the worst come, I shall be where none weep, And that is better than the power to smile. And thou? _Sar._ I shall be King, as heretofore. _Myr._ Where?