And blefs

you e'er I die. Oh Rodogune!

Fair Royal Maid! to thee be all thy Wishes,
Content and ever lafting Peace dwell with thee,
And every Joy be thine. Nor let one Thought
Of this ungrateful, this unhappy Aribert
Remain behind, to call a fudden Sigh,
Or ftain thee with a Tear. Behold I go,
Doom'd by Eternal Fate, to my long Reft;
Then let my Name too die, fink to Oblivion,
And fleep in Silence with me in the Grave.
Rodo. Doft thou not with to live?
Ari. I cannot.

Rodo. Why?

Behold I give thee Life.

Ari. And therefore-oh!

Therefore I cannot take it. I dare die,
But dare not be oblig'd. I dare not owe
What I can never render back..

Rodo. Confufion!!

Is then the Bleffing, Life, become a Curfe,

When offer'd to thee by my baleful Hand? ?

Ari. Oh no! for you are all that's good and gracious; Nature, that makes your Sex the Joy of ours,

Made you the Pride of both; fhe gave you Sweetness, So mix'd with Strength, with Majesty so rais'd,

A

To make the willing World confefs your Empire,
And love, while they obey. Nor ftay'd the there,
But to the Body fitted fo the Mind,

As each were fashion'd fingly to excel,

As if fo fair a Form difdain'd to harbour

A Soul lefs great, and that great Soul could find
Nothing fo like the Heav'n from whence it came,.
As that fair Form to dwell in..

Rodo. Soothing Sounds!

Delightful Flattery from him we love;

But what are thefe to my impatient Hopes?

[Afide.

Ari. Yet wherefore fhould this mighty Mass of Wealth Be vainly plac'd before my wondring Eyes,

Since I must ne'er poffefs it, fince my Heart,

Once giv❜n, can ne'er return, can know no Name

But Ethelinda, only Ethelinda?

Fix'd to its Choice, and obftinately constant,

It liftens not to any other Call.

So rigid Hermits, that forfake the World,

Are deaf to Glory, Greatness, Pomps and Pleasures;
Severe in Zeal, and infolently pious,

They let attending Princes vainly wait,

Knock at their Cells, and lure 'em forth in vain.

Rodo. How is the form'd? with what superior Grace, This Rival of my Love? What envious God, In fcorn of Nature's wretched Works below, Improv'd and made her more than half Divine? How has he taught her Lips to breathe Ambrofia? How dy'd her Blushes with the Morning's Red, And cloath'd her with the fairest Beams of Light, To make her shine beyond me?

Ari. Spare the Theme.

Rodo. But then her Mind! ye Gods, which of you all Could make that great, and fit to rival mine? What more than heavenly Fire informs the Mafs? Has fhe a Soul can dare beyond our Sex, Beyond ev'n Man himself, can dare like mine? Can fhe resolve to bear the fecret Stings Of Shame and conscious Pride, diftracting Rage, And all the deadly Pangs of Love defpis'd? Oh no! She cannot, Nature cannot bear it;

[Weeping.

It

It finks ev'n me, the Torrent drives me down,
The native Greatness of my Spirit fails,

Thus melts, and thus runs gushing thro' my Eyes,
The Floods of Sorrow drown my dying Voice,
And I can only call thee Cruel Aribers!

Ari. Oh thou, juft Heav'n, if mortal Man To look into thy great Decrees, thy Fate, Were it not better I had never been,

Than thus to bring Affliction and Misfortune,

may

dare

Thus curfe what thou hadft made fo good and fair?
Rodo. But fee! the King and cruel Priests appear,
Nor can I fave thee now. Thou haft thy With; [To Arib
But what remains for me? My Heart beats fast,
And fwells, impatient at the Tyrant's Sight.
My Blood, e'erwhile at Ebb, now flows again,
And with new Rage I burn. Since Love is loft,
Come thou Revenge, fucceed thou to my Bofom,
And reign in all my Soul. Yes, I will find her,
This fatal fhe, for whom I am defpis'd.
Look that fhe be your Mafter-Piece, ye Gods;
Let each celestial Hand fome Grace impart,
To this rare Pattern of your forming Art;
Such may fhe be, my jealous Rage to move,
Such as you never made 'till now, to prove
A Victim worthy my offended Love.

[Exit Rodogune. Enter at the other Door the King, Priefts, Guards and other

Attendants.

King. Haft thou bethought thee yet, perfidious Boy! Wo't thou yet render back thy Theft? Confider, The Precipice is juft beneath thy Feet, Tis but a Moment, and I push thee off, To plunge for ever in eternal Darkness:

Somewhat

Somewhat like Nature has been bufie here,
And made a Struggle for thee in my Soul:
Restore my Love, and be again my Brother.

Ari. Rage, and the Violence of lawless Passion,
Have blinded your clear Reafon; wherefore elfe
This frantick wild Demand? What! fhould I yield,
Give up my Love, my Wife, my Ethelinda,
To an incestuous Brother's dire Embrace?
Oh Horror! But, to bar the impious Thought,
Know!-Heav'n and brave Ambrofius are her Guard:
E'er this, her Flight has reach'd the Britons Camp
And found her Safety there.

King. Fled to the Britons!

Oh most accurfed Traitor! Let her fly,
Far as the early Day-fpring in the Eaft,
Or to the utmoft Ocean, where the Sun

Defcends to other Skies and Worlds unknown; |
Ev'n thither shall my Love take Wing and follow,
To feize the flying Fair. The Britons

Gods! Shall they with-hold her!-First, my Arms fhall fhake✨ Their Ifland to the Center. But for thee,

Think'st thou to awe me with that Fantom, Incest?
Sach empty. Names may fright thy Coward Soul;
But know that mine difdains 'em. Bind him ftrait,

[To the Priests.

[To Aribert.

I wo'not lose another Thought about thee.
Begin the Rites, and dye the hallow'd Steel
Deep in his Chriftian Blood. The Gods demand him..
Ari. Why then, no more. But if we meet again,
As, when the Day of great Account shall come,
Perhaps we may, may'ft thou find Mercy there,
More than thou fhew'ft thy Brother here. Farewel

King

King. Farewel. To Death with him, and end the
Dreamer.

[The Priests bind Aribert, and lead him to the Altar.
While the folemn Mufick is playing,

Enter Scofrid.

Seof. Hafte, and break off your unaufpicious Rites:
The inftant Dangers fummon you away;
Destruction threatens in our frighted Streets,
And the Gods call to Arms.

King. What means the Fear

That trembles in thy pale, thy haggard Vifage?
Speak out, and case this Labour of thy Soul.

Seof. Oh fly, my Lord; the Torrent grows upon us,
And while I fpeak we're loft.
From ev'ry Part his crowding
And this way waving bend.

Fierce Offa comes;
Ensigns enter,
With idle Arms

Your Soldier careless stands, and bids 'em pafs;:
Some join, but all refufe to arm against 'em;
They call 'em Friends, Companions, and their Countrymen
A chofen Band, led by the haughty Princess,
Imperious Rodogune, move fwiftly hither

To intercept your Paffage to the Palace.

That only Strength is left, then fly to reach it.

King. Curft Chance! But hafte, difpatch that Traitor,

ftrait;

They fhall not bar my Vengeance.

Seof. Sacred Sir,

Think only on your Safety. For the Prince,

Your Crown, but more your Love, a thousand Reasons, All urge you to defer his Fate; Time preffes,

1

Or I could speak 'em plain.
King. Then hear me, Priest,

I give him to thy Charge.

Seof.