Moral in words, most blasphemous in acts, The hoary slave whose knees are grown so supple, That you would think him half-way in his grave, Meres. The satire's keen, my lord! Arax. Satire? no, good my lords! 'twere black injustice! I would not for a town pronounce a satire: 'Twere better-lords-to face embattl'd hosts. Meres. Such an employment we are come to give you ! We bring you orders from our lord the king. Arax. Well met indeed! I pray, declare them quick : The words of kings are fire, and must not cool Meres. (To Zaphan) Is he not mad? There is no need to send him to the wars, I bring you the commission that appoints you That you leave Babylon e'en on the instant. That my words fail as I address my queen, Queen. A hero's manners lead, not follow fashion; Where'er he goes, his fame prepares his way, And the weak forms of court are only left To serve the fools who have no better claim. Arax. I do rejoice to hear you speak of claims : I have a claim to seize the coldest breast, Queen. Oroes has school'd you, sir, in words sublime, And the rude camp has fix'd his lessons deep: But we will teach you softer words at court. Arax. The war I wage is not in camp alone, It rests not on the fury of the sword. Queen. Then let your words be softer than of war, And change the storm for wooing zephyr's breath. Arax. Madam, alas! I never learnt the art To tread with care the winding path of pru dence, Or slowly calculate on consequences: Set me a glorious point before my eyes fear; Trust me, th' affections are of pliant nature, And mostly follow him whom fame elates : ture's law. Queen. I will not play with you the reasoner's game, Nor aim to win the prize the learned offer : The crested plume, imagination raises To wave high-tow'ring in a people's eyes, All the great actions I had heard or read of; Queen. You take the heart as you would take a town, And troops of armed words come thund'ring in: I should detest him, for he hates Araxes. Nor has my early love e'er left his tomb, To try how far its force directs your actions : Queen. You urge right earnestly a fruitless suit: Yet for the dead you should not sue in frowns. Arax. Oh that much better might a tear be come That royal grave-that all dissolv'd in woe, Queen. What then-Araxes! shall we mourn together O'er the lost Ninus? tell how, had he liv'd, We pay our lives and bring no value back : Arax. Now raise thy storms and hurl thy thunder, heav'n ! Queen. What does the wild insensate mean or dare? Arax. Too wretched woman! hear me what I mean! Too hapless mother! hear me who I am. Queen. What is the sound that thus comes forth in terror? What is the name I must not hear and live? The blessed consequence of virtuous toil, And thoughts at peace with heav'n, (almighty gods! Why did ye not arrest the coward hand?) Queen. My thoughts perplex'd Run back through endless circumstance and find Th' accursed story true: support me, heaven ! Arax. Think'st thou, oh queen! that nature made no pause Between the solemn duties of a king, As Ninus acted them, in camp or senate, once, From the meridian glory of his manhood, |