Yes, with my shame and torture, woos her love.
I see, hear, feel it! O these raging fires!
Can then the thing we scorn give so much pain?

DELIA.

Madam, these transports give him cause to triumph.

ERIXENE.

I vent my grief to thee; he ne'er shall know it.
If I can't conquer, I'll conceal my passion ;
And stifle all its pangs beneath disdain.

DELIA.

The greatest minds are most relenting too:
If then Demetrius should repent his crime-

ERIXENE.

If still my passion burns, it shall burn inward:
On the fierce rack in silence I'll expire,
Before one sigh escape me-He repent!
What wild extravagance of thought is thine?
But did he? Who repents, has once been false:
In love, repentance but declares our guilt;
And injur'd honour-shall exact its due.

In vain his love, nay mine should groan in vain!
Both are devoted. Vengeance, vengeance, reigns!
Our first love murder'd, is the sharpest pang

A human heart can feel.

DELIA.

The king approaches.

Enter the KING, &c.

KING.

Madam, at length we see the dawn of peace,
And hope an end of our domestic jars.

The jealous Perseus can no longer fear
Demetrius is a Roman; since this day

Makes him the son of Dymas, Rome's worst foe.

ERIXENE.

Already, Sir, I've heard, and heard with joy,
Th' important news.

KING.

To make our bliss run o'er,

You, Madam, will complete what heav'n begins;
And save the love-sick Perseus from despair:
That marriage would leave Rome without pretence
To touch our conquest; and for ever join
To these dominions long-disputed Thrace.

Enter DYMAS.

ERIXENE

Though Thrace by conquest stoops to Macedon,
I know my rank, and would preserve its due.
With meditated coldness have I heard

Prince Perseus' vows; unwilling to consent,
Before restor❜d to my forefathers throne,
Lest that consent should merit little thanks,
As flowing less from choice than your command:
But since the Roman pride will find account
In my persisting still; and Philip suffer;

I quit the lofty thought on which I stood,
And yield to your request.

KING.

Indulgent gods!

Blest moment! How will this with transport fill
The doubtful Perseus, after years of pain!

DYMAS.

My lord, I've heard what past, and give you joy
Of Perseus' nuptials, which your state requires:
But for Demetrius'-think of those no more.
Far from accepting such a load of glory,
I bring, I bring, my lord, this forfeit head
Due to my bold refusal.

KING.

Dares the boy

Fall from his promise; and impose on thee
Forc'd disobedience to my royal pleasure?

DYMAS.

No, my most honour'd lord, there, there's my crime: Fond of the maid, with ardour he press'd on: But should I dare pollute his blood with mine? But you, Sir, authorize it-still more base, To wrong a master so profusely kind.

KING.

That man is noble on whom Philip smiles.
Come, come, there's something more in this—explain.

DYMAS.

Why am I forc'd on this ungrateful office?

Yet can't I tell you more than fame has told;
Which says Demetrius is in league with Rome.
Why weds ambition then an humble maid,
But to gain me to treason? What then follows?
They'll say the subtile statesman plann'd this marriage›
To raise his blood into his master's throne.
No, Sir, preserve my fame; let life suffice.

Enter PERICLES.

Sir, your ambassadors arriv'd from Rome

KING.

[Presents a letter.

Ha! I must read it-this will tell me more.

[After reading it.

O princess! now our only comfort flows
From your indulgence to my better son.
This dreadful news precipitates my wish.
To keep rapacious Rome from seizing Thrace,
You cannot wed too soon: My fair ally!
What if you bless me, and my son, to-morrow?

ERIXENE.

Since you request, and your affairs demand it,
Without a blush-I think I may comply.

KING.

O daughter! but no more-The gods will thank you! my Perseus with the news.

I

go

to bless

DYMAS.

Thus the boy's dead in Empire, and in Love.

[Exeunt King, Dymas, &c.

ERIXENE.

I triumph! I'm reveng'd! I reign! I reign!
Nor thank Demetrius' treason for a crown.
Love is our own cause, honour is the gods.
I can be glorious without happiness;
But without glory never can be blest.

DELIA.

'Tis well; but can you wed the man you scorn?

ERIXENE.

Wed any thing for vengeance on the perjur'd.
I'll now insult him from an higher sphere:
This unexpected turn may gall his pride.
Whate'er has pangs for him, has charms for me.

DELIA.

A rooted love is scarce so soon remov'd.

ERIXENE.

If not, the greater virtue to controul it;

And strike at his heart, though 'tis through my own.

DELIA.

I can't but praise this triumph; yet I dread

Confirm it true, and yet without a crime,

I can't believe it. O Erixene