with the early sweets
Of nature's incense, and the lark's loud strain.
'Tis not the unruly transport of ambition
That urges my desires to ask your crown;
Let the vain wretch, who prides in gay dominion,
Who thinks not of the great ones' weighty cares,
Enjoy his lofty wish, wide spreading rule.
The treasure which I ask, put in the scale,
Would over-balance all that Kings can boast,
Empire and diadems.

KING.

Away, that thought--
Name it, haste--speak.

ARSACES.

For all the dang'rous toil,
Thirst, hunger, marches long that I've endur'd,
For all the blood I've in thy service spent,
Reward me with Evanthe.

KING.

Ha! what said'st thou?--

VARDANES.

The King is mov'd, and angry bites his lip.--
Thro' my benighted soul all-cheering hope [_Aside._
Beams, like an orient sun, reviving joy.

ARSACES.

The stern Vonones ne'er could boast a merit
But loving her.

KING.

Ah! curse the hated name--
Yes, I remember when the fell ruffian
Directed all his fury at my life;
Then sent, by pitying heav'n, t' assert the right
Of injur'd Majesty, thou, Arsaces,
Taught him the duty he ne'er knew before,
And laid the Traitor dead.

ARSACES.

My Royal Sire!

LYSIAS.

My Liege, the Prince still kneels.

KING.

Ha!--rebel, off-- [_Strikes him._
What, Lysias, did I strike thee? forgive my rage--
The name of curs'd Vonones fires my blood,
And gives me up to wrath.--

LYSIAS.

I am your slave,
Sway'd by your pleasure--when I forget it,
May this keen dagger, which I mean to hide
Deep in his bosom, pierce my vitals thro'. [_Aside._

KING.

Didst thou not name Evanthe?

ARSACES.

I did, my Lord!
And, say, whom should I name but her, in whom
My soul has center'd all her happiness?
Nor canst thou blame me, view her wond'rous charms,
She's all perfection; bounteous heav'n has form'd her
To be the joy, and wonder of mankind;
But language is too vile to speak her beauties.
Here ev'ry pow'r of glowing fancy's lost:
Rose blush secure, ye lilies still enjoy
Your silver whiteness, I'll not rob your charms
To deck the bright comparison; for here
It sure must fail.

KING.

He's wanton in her praise-- [_Aside._
I tell thee, Pri