I always wear a dagger, for your service,
I need not speak the rest—
When humbly I intreated of your Brother
T' attend him as Lieutenant in this war,
Frowning contempt, he haughtily reply'd,
He entertain'd not Traitors in his service.
True, I betray'd Orodes, but with cause,
He struck me, like a sorry abject slave,
And still withheld from giving what he'd promis'd.
Fear not Arsaces, believe me, he shall
Soon his Quietus have—But, see, he comes,—
What can this mean? Why at this lonely hour,
And unattended?—Ha! 'tis opportune—
I'll in, and stab him now. I heed not what
The danger is, so I but have revenge,
Then heap perdition on me.
Vardanes.
Hold, awhile—
'Twould be better could we undermine him,
And make him fall by Artabanus' doom.
Lysias.
Well, be it so—
Vardanes.
But let us now retire,
We must not be observ'd together here.
Scene III.
Arsaces [alone].
'Tis here that hapless Bethas is confin'd;
He who, but yesterday, like angry Jove,
When punishing the crimes of guilty men,
Spread death and desolation all around,
While Parthia trembl'd at his name; is now
Unfriended and forlorn, and counts the hours,
Wrapt in the gloomy horrors of a goal.—
How dark, and hidden, are the turns of fate!
His rigid fortune moves me to compassion.
O! 'tis a heav'nly virtue when the heart
Can feel the sorrows of another's bosom,
It dignifies the man: The stupid wretch
Who knows not this sensation, is an image,
And wants the feeling to make up a life—
I'll in, and give my aid to sooth his sorrows.