Her Search fhould ranfack all the Antients Store,
The Fortunes of their Loves and Arms explore,
Such as might grieve you, but shou'd please you more.
What Shakespear durft not, this bold Age fhou'd do,
And famous Greek and Latin Beauties fhew.
Shakespear, whofe Genius to it felf a Law,
Could Men in every Height of Nature draw,
And copy'd all but Women that he faw.
Thofe antient Heroines your Concern fhou'd move,
Their Grief and Anger much, but most their Love;
For in the Account of every Age we find
The best and fairest of that Sex were kind,
To Pity always and to Love inclin'd.
Affert, ye Fair-ones, who in Fudgment fit,.
Your antient Empire over Love and Wit;
Reform our Senfe, and teach the Men tobey;
They'll leave their Tumbling if you lead the way.
Be but what thofe before to Otway were;
you but as kind, we know you are as fair.
Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle.
HE Spleen and Vapours, and this doleful Play,
Have mortify'd me to that Height to-day,
That I am almoft in the mortal Mind
To die indeed, and leave you all behind.
Know then, fince I refolve in peace to part,
I mean to leave to one alone my Heart.
(Laft Favours will admit of no Partage,
ibar all Sharing, but upon the Stage.)
To one who can with one alone be bleft,
The peaceful Monarch of a fingle Breaft.
To one but oh! how hard 'twill be to find
That Phoenix in your fickle changing Kind!
New Loves, new Interefts, and Religions new,
Still your Fantaftick Appetites purfue.
Your fickly Fancies loath what you possess,
And every reftlefs Fool would change his Place.
Some weary of their Peace and Quiet grown,
Want to be hoisted up aloft, and shown;
Whilft from the envy'd Height,the Wife get fafely down.
We find your wavering Temper to our Coft,
Since all our Pains and Care to please is loft.
Mufick in vain fupports with friendly Aid
Her Sifter Poetry's declining Head:
Show but a Mimick Ape, or French Buffoon,
You to the other House in Shoals are gone,
And leave us here to tune our Crowds alone.
Muft Shakespear, Fletcher, and laborious Ben
Be left for Scaramouch and Harlequin ?
Allow you are unconftant, yet 'tis ftrange,
For Senfe is fill the fame, and ne'er can change?
Yet even in that you vary as the reft,
And every day new Notions are profess'd.
Nay there's a Wit has found, as I am told,
New Ways to Heaven, despairing of the old :
He fwears he'll spoil the Clerk's and Sexton's Trade,
Bells fhall no more be rung, nor Graves be made;
The Hearfe and Six no longer be in fashion,
Since all the Faithful may expert Tranflation.
What think you of the Project? I'm for trying,
I'll lay afide thefe foolish Thoughts of dying;
Preferve my Youth and Vigour for the Stage,
And be tranflated in a good old Age.
Artaxerxes, Prince of Perfia, Eldeft)
Son to the King Arfaces, by a for-Mr. Verbrugen. mer Queen.
Artaban, Son to Arfaces, by Artemifa. Mr. Booth,
Memnon, Formerly General to Ar-2
faces, now difgrac'd; a Friend to> Mr. Betterton. Artaxerxes.
Mirza, First Minister of State, in the Mr. Freeman.
Intereft of Artemifa and Artaban. S
Magas, Prieft of the Sun, Friend to
Mirza and the Queen.
Cleanthes, Friend to Artaban.
Orchanes, Captain of the Guards to 2
the Queen.
Artemifa, Formerly the Wife of Tiri
bafus a Perfian Lord, now married Mrs. Barry. to the King, and Queen of Perfia.
Ameftris, Daughter to Memnon, in
love with, and belov'd by Artax->Mrs. Bracegirdle.
Cleone, Daughter to Mirza, in)
love with Artaxerxes, and belov'd Mrs. Bowman.
Beliza, Confident to Cleone.
SCENE I. A Royal Palace.
Enter at feveral Doors Mirza and Magas. Mir.HAT bring'ft thou, Magas? Say, how
Mag. As one, whom when we number
with the Living,
We fay the moft we can; tho fure it must
Be happier far, to quit a wretched Being,
Than keep it on fuch Terms: For as I enter'd
The Royal Lodging, an univerfal Horror
Struck thro my Eyes, and chill'd my very Heart;
The chearful Day was every where shut out
With care, and left a more than midnight Darkness,
Such as might ev'n be felt: A few dim Lamps,
That feebly lifted up their fickly Heads,
Look'd faintly thro the Shade, and made it seem
More difinal by fuch Light; while thofe that waited,
In folemn Sorrow, mix'd with wild Amazement,
Obferv'd a dreadful Silence.
Mirz. Didft thou see him?
Mag. My Lord, 1 did; treading with gentle steps,
I reach'd the Bed, which held the poor Remains
Of great Arfaces: juft as I approach'd,
His drooping Lids, that feem'd for ever clos'd,
Were faintly rear'd, to tell me that he liv'd:
The Balls of Sight, dim and depriv'd of Motion,
Sparkled no more with that Majestick Fire,
At which ev❜n Kings have trembled; but had loft
Their common ufeful Office, and were shaded
With an eternal Night. Struck with a fight,
That fhew'd me Human Nature fall'n fo low,
I hastily retir❜d.
Mirz. He dies too foon;
And Fate, if poffible, must be delay'd;
The Thought that labours in my forming Brain,
Yet crude and immature demands more time.
Have the Phyficians giv'n up all their hopes?
Cannot they add a few days to a Monarch,
In recompence of thousand vulgar Fates,
Which their Drugs daily haften?
The outward Rooms, I found 'em in Confult;
I ask'd 'em if their Art was at a stand,
And could not help the King; they fhook their Heads,
And in moft grave and folemn wife unfolded
Matter, which little purported, but words
Rank'd in right learned Phrafe; all I could learn, was,
That Nature's kindly Warmth was quite extinct,
Nor could the Breath of Art kindle again
Mirz. My Royal Miftrefs Artemifa's Fate,
And all her Son young Artaban's high Hopes,
Hang on this lucky Crifis; fince this day,
The haughty Artaxerxes and old Memnon
Enter Perfepolis: The yearly Feaft
Devoted to our glorious God the Sun,
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