From Pride, from Wealth, from Business, and from

Pow'r,

Loathing he flies, and feeks the peaceful Village;
He fecks the Cottage in the tufted Grove,
The ruffet Fallows, and the verdant Lawns,
The clear cool Brook, and the deep woody Glade,
Bright Winter Fires, and Summer Ev'nings Suns.
These he prefers to gilded Roofs and Crowns;
Here he delights to pair the conftant Swain,
With the sweet, unaffected, yielding Maid;
Here is his Empire, here his Choice to reign,
Here, where he dwells with Innocence and Truth.
Rodo. To Minds which know no better, these are
Joys;

But Princes, fure, are born with nobler Thoughts.
Love, is in them a Flame that mounts to Heav'n,

And seeks its Source Divine, and Kindred Stars;
That urges on the Mortal Man to dare,
Kindles the vaft Defires of Glory in him,

And makes Ambition's facred Fires burn bright.
Nor you, howe'er your Tongue disguise your Heart,
Have meaner Hopes than these.

Ari. Mine have been still

Match'd with my Birth; a younger Brother's Hopes. Rodo. Nay more; Methinks I read your future Greatnefs;

And, like fome Bard infpir'd, I could foretel

What wondrous things our Gods reserve for you.
Perhaps, ev'n now, your better Stars are join'd;
Aufpicious Love and Fortune now confpire,
At once to crown you, and bestow that Greatness,
Which partial Nature at your Birth deny'd,

Enter the King, Guards and other Attendants.

King. She muft, fhe fhall be found, tho' fhe be funk Deep to the Center, tho' Eternal Night

Spread wide her fable Wing, to fhade her Beauties, And fhut me from her Sight. But fay, thou Traytor; Thou that haft made the Name of Friendship vile, And broke the Bonds of Duty and of Nature,

Where haft thou hid thy Theft? So young, fo falfe --Have I not been a Father to thy Youth,

And lov'd thee with a more than Brother's Love?

And am I thus repaid?.

Or by our Gods thou dy'ft.

Rodo. What means this Rage?

But bring her forth,

[Afide.

Ari. Then briefly thus: You are my King and Brother,

The Names which moft I reverence on Earth,

And fear offending moft. Yet to defend

My Honour and my Love from Violation,
O'er ev'ry Bar resistless will I rush,

And, in despight of proud Tyrannick Pow'r,
Seize and affert my Right.

King. What thine! thy Right!

Riddles and Tales,

Ari. Mine by the dearest Tie,

By holy Marriage mine, she is my Wife.

Rodo. Racks, Tortures, Madness, feize me! Oh Confufion!

[Afide.

Ari. I fee thy Heart fwells, and thy flaming Vifage Reddens with Rage at this unwelcome Truth;

But fince I know my Ethelinda fafe,

I have but little Care for what may happen.

To Morrow may be Heav'n's

If this Day be my laft, why farewel Life;

or yours to take,

I hold

I hold it well beftow'd for her I love.

Rodo. May Sorrow, Shame and Sickness overtake her, And all her Beauties, like my Hopes, be blafted. [Afide. King. So brave! But I fhall find the Means to tame

you,

To make thee curfe thy Folly, curse thy Love,
And to the dreadful Gods, who reign beneath,
Devote thy fatal Bride. She is a Christian;
Remember that, fond Boy, and then remember
That facred Vow, which, perjur'd as thou art,
Proftrate at Woden's Altar, and invoking

With folemn Runick Rites, our Country's Gods,
Thou mad'ft in Prefence of our Royal Father.

Ari. Yes, I remember well the impious Oath,
Hardly extorted from my trembling Youth;
When burning with mifguided Zeal, the King
Compell'd my Knee to bend before his Gods,
And forc'd us both to fwear to what we knew not.
King. Now by the Honours of the Saxon Race,
A long and venerable Line of Heroes,

I fwear thou art abandon'd, loft to Honour,
And fall'n from ev'ry great and godlike Thought.
Some whining Coward Prieft has wrought upon thee,
And drawn thee from our brave Forefathers Faith,
Falfe to our Gods, as to thy King and Brother.
Ari. Tis much beneath my Courage and my Truth,
To borrow any mean Difguife from Falfhood.

No! 'tis my Glory that the Christian Light
Has dawn'd, like Day, upon my darker Mind,
And taught my Soul the nobleft Use of Reason;
Taught her to foar aloft, to search, to know
The vaft eternal Fountain of her Being;
Then, warm with Ladignation, to defpife
C 2

The

The Things you call our Country's Gods, to scorn
And trample on their ignominious Altars.

King. 'Tis well, Sir, --- impious Boy!--- Ye Saxon Gods; And thou, oh Royal Hengift, whose dread Will

And injur'd Majefty I now affert,

Hear, and be prefent to my Juftice, hear me,
While thus I vow to your offended Deities
This Traitor's Life; he dies, nor ought on Earth
Saves his devoted Head. One to the Priests;

[To the Attendants: Bid 'em be fwift, and dress their bloody Altars With ev'ry Circumftance of Tragick Pomp; To Day a Royal Victim bleeds upon 'em. Rich fhall the Smoak and steaming Gore afcend, To glut the Vengeance of our angry Gods.

Rede. At once ten thousand racking Paffions tear me,
And my Heart heaves, as it would burst my Bofom.
Oh can I, can I hear him doom'd to Death,

Nor ftir, nor breath one single Sound to fave him?
It wo'not be and my fierce haughty Soul,

Whate'er the fuffers, ftill difdains to bend,

To fue to the curft, hated Tyrant King..

Oh Love! Oh Glory!---- Would'st thou die thus tamely?

Is-Life fo fmall a thing, fo mean a Boon,

As is not worth the asking?.

Wilt thou not plead for Life?

[To Aribert,

Thou art filent;

And waken Nature in his Iron Heart.

Intreat the Tyrant,

Ari. Life has fo little in it good or pleasing, That fince it feems not worth a Brother's Care,

'Tis hardly worth my asking.

King. Seize him, Guards,

And bear him to his Fate.

[Guards feize Aribert

Rodo.

Rodo. Yet, Hengift, know,

If thou fhalt dare to touch his precious Life,
Know that the Gods and Rodogune prepare
The sharpeft Scourges of vindictive War.

Fly where thou wilt, the Sword shall still purfue
With Vengeance, to a Brother's Murther due.

Driven out from Man, and mark'd for publick Scorn,
Thy ravifh'd Scepter vainly fhalt thou mourn.
And when at length thy wretched Life shall cease,
When in the filent Grave thou hop'ft for Peace:
Think not the Grave fhall hide thy hated Head!
Still, Aill I will pursue thy fleeting Shade;
I curs'd thee living, and will plague thee dead.

}

[Exit Rodogune.
King. On to the Temple with him: Let her rave,
And prophefie ten thousand thousand Horrors:
I could join with her now, and bid 'em come;
They fit the prefent Fury of my Soul.

The Stings of Love and Rage are fix'd within,

And drive me on to Madness, Earthquakes, Whirlwinds.
A general Wreck of Nature now would please me.
For oh! not all the driving wintry War,

When the Storm groans and bellows from afar,
When thro' the Gloom the glancing Lightnings fly,
Heavy the ratling Thunders roll on high,

And Seas and Earth mix with the dusky Sky;
Not all those warring Elements we fear,

Are equal to the inborn Tempeft here;

}

Fierce as the Thoughts which mortal Man controul,
When Love and Rage contend, and tear the lab'ring

Soul.

The End of the Third A&t.

[Exeunt.

C 3

ACT