The Prince of Parthia: A Tragedy

_VARDANES and LYSIAS come forward._

Lysias. 'Twas a moving scene, e'en my rough nature Was nighly melted.

Vardanes. Hence coward pity-- What is joy to them, to me is torture. Now am I rack'd with pains that far exceed Those agonies, which fabling Priests relate, The damn'd endure: The shock of hopeless Love, Unblest with any views to sooth ambition, Rob me of all my reas'ning faculties. Arsaces gains Evanthe, fills the throne, While I am doom'd to foul obscurity, To pine and grieve neglected.

Lysias. My noble Prince, Would it not be a master-piece, indeed, To make this very bliss their greatest ill, And damn them in the very folds of joy?

Vardanes. This I will try, and stretch my utmost art, Unknown is yet the means--We'll think on that-- Success may follow if you'll lend your aid.

Lysias. The storm still rages--I must to the King, And know what further orders ere he sleeps: Soon I'll return, and speak my mind more fully.

Vardanes. Haste, Lysias, haste, to aid me with thy council; For without thee, all my designs will prove Like night and chaos, darkness and confusion; But to thy word shall light and order spring.-- Let coward Schoolmen talk of Virtue's rules, And preach the vain Philosophy of fools; Court eager their obscurity, afraid To taste a joy, and in some gloomy shade Dream o'er their lives, while in a mournful strain They sing of happiness they never gain. But form'd for nobler purposes I come, To gain a crown, or else a glorious tomb.

_End of the Second Act._