Who comes to take his fentence on him, death.
Sophernes was condemn'd; 'tis he muft fuffer.
Spare then that pattern of heroic virtue.
The fentence is not her's; I claim my right.
Sophernes stands before you, and demands it.

[Throws off his difguife.
Cyl. Oftay not for the fignal. Give the blow.
Save him, ye gods! Why is the ftroke delay'd ?.
The king has fworn. O may my death preferve him!
Phra Sufpend her fentence till my further orders.
Who flew this man? what mov'd thee to the murder?
Why haft thou ftain'd this holy place with blood?
Soph. That villain who lies groveling there before thee,
Had rais'd his arm to take thy life, O king;
And as the point defcended, in the moment

I laid him low; and heaven has done me juftice.
If favour fhall reward me for this deed,

Spare my Cylene, grant her your protection.
lafk not life, for without her 'tis nothing.

Aft. Where will this end? How are my fchemes destroy'd!

Fear chills my heart, and guilt lies heavy on me.
Leave me not, hell! defert rot now thy caule
I've gone too far. O blind the eyes of justice!
And fink me not in ruin and perdition.

[Afide.

Phra Know you this bold afsaffin? View him well. Hyd. Ay, gaze upon me.

Orba. Sure I've feen this man.'

Soph. Among the crowd I mark'd this perjur'd wretch, Who charg'd me with ingratitude and treafon : With fury in his looks, and hafty trides

;

He fiept before me flrait he rais'd his dagger:
In justice to myfelf and thee, I fuote him."

Aft. Where fhall I hide me ? how my fears diftract me! Who knows the torment of the guilty wretch,

When accufation ftares him in the face?

Then all our fpirits fink into defpair,

And when we want moft ftrength, then moft it falls us.
He fpeaks, and I'm betray'd. Why err'd the dagger !
To bring confusion, shame, and death upon me.
Where all I fly ?-for confcience will detect me,
"Twill faulter on my tongue, and stain my cheek.
VOL. III.
D

O horror !

O horror! O difgrace !-I fly from shame.
Soph. 'Twas I that gave thee death.
Hyd. Thou haft done justice.

Phra. What fay'st thou? speak again.
Hyd. He has done justice.

I barb'rously accus'd him of my crimes;

[Exit.

That guilt upbraids me; and lask forgiveness. [To Soph. Phra. Whence art thou why this zealous rage. against me?

Hyd. I grieve not that I perish'd by his hand;
But that he disappointed my revenge,

I can't forgive him. Had he ftay'd 'till then,
Hydarnes had fall'n greatly. But that's paft.
Still I fhall wound thee in the tenderest part,

[To Phraortes.
I faint. O grant me ftrength to give it utterance!
Draw near, Araxes. Speak, inform the king;
Did not you guide me to the queen's apartment?
You know why I was call'd. Disclose the fecret.
Ara. What paft I know not.

Hyd. What you fear to own,

I dare reveal: hear then a dying man,
The queen, on promife of my life and pardon,
Prevail'd upon me to accufe this prince:
I knew him not; yet, to purfue thy life,
And gratify revenge, I undertook it.

Pbra. It is impoffible. Advance, my queen,
And let thy prefence ftrike him with confufion.
Come forth, farbe. Hah! he's fled; the's guilty!
Hafte, bring her back. I will extort confeffion.
What mov'd her to this perjur'd information ?

(Ex. Officers.

Whence fprung this hate and malice to Sophernes?

[To Hydarnes.

Hyd. Afk her. Ifpeak the truth, and know no further. Look on me, tyrant, and obferve my features; Seeft thou not here the lines of brave Lyfamnes? He by thy power was led to fhametul death, His fon now dies, and never has reveng'd him.

Enter Aftarbe. brought in by Officers.

[Dies.

Af. Bring me before the king.

Phra.

Phra. Perfidious woman!

Look on that wretch, who there lies pale and cold;
Was he not brought in private to your chamber?
Who gave inftructions to accufe Sophernes?
Who promis'd life and pardon to Hydarnes?
Aft. All then is loft. Aftarbe is betray'd.
But fhall I ftoop to lead a life of shame?
No. This fhall close a scene of long remorse.

Phra. Aftarbe! hold!

Aft. Forgive me!

Pbra. Her foul treachery

[Stabs herself.

My foul detefts. But love will force a tear.
What mov'd her hatred thus against your life?
Soph. She was unhappy. Let her be forgot.

[Dies.

Phra. Draw near, Cylene. May heav'n bless your loves! [Gives her to Sophernes. Cyl. Shall he then live? My heart o'erflows with joy. Now life is worth accepting, worth defiring, Worth ev'ry with, and ev'ry daily prayer.

Phra. By you the royal vestment shall be worn, And, next the king, all honour fhall be paid

Το

you who fav'd him.

Soph. What I did was due ;

I've only paid a debt of gratitude:

[To Sophernes.

What would your bounty more?you've given me all: For in these arms I ev'ry with poffefs.

Phra. Life is a voyage, and we with pain and labour Muft weather many a ftorm, to reach the port. Soph. Since 'tis not given to mortals to difcern Their real good and ill; let men learn patience: Let us the toils of adverfe fate fuftain,

For through that rugged road our hopes we gain.

Spoken by Mrs. OLDFIELD.

SHALL authors teaze the town with tragic paffion;
When we've more modern moral things in fashion?
Let poets quite exhauft the Mufe's treafure;
Sure mafquerades must give more feeling pleasure,
Where we meet finer fenfe and better measure;
The marry'd dame, whofe bufinefs must be done,
Puts on the holy veftments of a nun;
And brings her unprolific fpoufe a fon.
Coquettes, with whom no lover could fucceed,
Here pay off all arrears, and love in-deed :
Ev'n confcious prudes are fo fincere and free,
They afk each man they meet-
-Do you
Do not our Operas unbend the mind,
Where ev'ry foul's to ecftafy refin'd?

know me

?

Entranc'd with found fits each feraphic toast:
All ladies love the play that moves the most.
Ev'nin ibis boufe I've known fome tender Fair,
Touch'd with mere fenfe alone, confefs a tear.
But the foft voice of an Italian Wether,
Makes them all languish three whole hours together.
And where's the wonder? Plays, like Mafs, are fung,
(Religious Drama!)—in an unknown tongue.

Will Poets ne'er confider what they cost us?
What tragedy can take, like Doctor Fauftus ?
Two ftages in this moral fhow excell,

To frighten vicious youth with fcenes of bell;
Yet both thefe Fauftufes can warn but few.
For what's a conj'rer's fate to me or-you?

Yet there are wives who think heav'n worth their care;

But firft they kindly fend their fpoufes there.

When you my lover's laft diftrefs behold,

Does not each husband's thrilling blood run cold?
Some heroes only die-Ours finds a wife.

What's harder than captivity for life?

Yet Men, ne'er warn'd, ftill court their own undoing: Who, for that circle, would but venture ruin ?

THE

THE

BEGGAR's

OPERA.

-Nos hæc noviffimus effe nihil.

MART.