Love's triumph, or, The royal union a tragedy / written by Edward Cooke, Esq., and dedicated to Her Highness the Princess of Orange.

SCENE IX.

Enter Perdiceas, bringing in Oroondates, Attendants.

Per.

—Madam, To show you what the power of Love can do, Ive brought my Rival Prince to wait on you: I hope the greatness of the Act will plead, The awful Flame your Charms in me have bred. And wish this Visit you may so improve, As not to make it fatal to your Love.

Exit. Per.

Sta. goes to Oroon. who is kneeling.

Sta.

My dear lov'd Lord!

Oroon.

—My Soul's Eternal Bliss! My heart's o'rewhelm'd with Loves sweet Extasies. But I'm your Criminal, therefore desire That at your Sacred Feet I may expire. My Love, and Life too long have Rebels been, For the Repose of my Soul's Charming Queen; But Life I'll give to expiate the Sin.

Sta.

Ah! My Lov'd Lord, my Oroondates, rise— Pardon this blind distraction of my Eyes.

Oroon.

Ah! Madam, I all o're so guilty am!—

Sta.

No, you are now by me exempt from blame.

Oroon.

Then do not, let me a fresh guilt contract, By swerving from what Dutie's Laws exact.

Sta.

But you more from the Laws of Duty go, When such neglect to my Commands you show.

Oroon.

If by my Zeal I an offendor prove, Forgive the effects, of which the cause is Love.

Rising

Madam, It was your Beauty's influence, That made me give this Reverent Offence. Alas! the Gods (to whom poor Souls with low Prostrations at their Sacred Altars bow) Do want such high Devotion ro receive,

Which at the Altar of your Eyes I give. I my Idolatry to you do pay, But 'tis with a less fervour that they pray.

Sta.

My Life! my all!—I want words to express.— My Soul's resentment of this happiness. The greatest Fortune or the Queen could give, To see my Oroondates does still live, And live for me!—

Oroon.

Or may I cease to be: Link'd in these Arms, I scorn base Liberty. Ah, Madam! was it then at your request, That I became thus gloriously blest? How did my Heart with trembling lose its form, For fear my sight should swell you to a storm: And I did now before your Justice come, But to plead guilty, and receive my doom.

Sta.

'Twas my desire, but I ne're thought so sweet A Blessing in my miseries to meet: Therefore being toil'd with grief, opprest with care, My Soul was taking flight with my despair.

Oroon.

Ah! Madam, at the rumour of your death, You know how neer I was my latest Breath; Yet (may I be permitted to complain, And use reproaches 'gainst my Soveraign Queen?) My cruel Fair, unknown to me, stood by, Disguis'd, to see her Oroondates die.

Sta.

Those, who did give you this Relation, (If e're to them I did my thoughts make known) Might with the reasons have acquainted you; Which made me take that course I did pursue, And how my Dutie's Laws, 'twas to fulfil, I us'd such rigo'rous force upon my will. Alas! 'tis true, I did your sight forbear, Yet the Gods know to me 'twas very dear; Yes, and those sufferings too for me you bore, With broken heart, and sighes I did deplore:

But then my King just dead, so much was due, To's Memory, I could not think on you, Without committing such a horrid Crime, As would have lost me Heav'ns, and your esteem.

Oroon.

Ah, Madam!— Too much of the Divinity you share, To make me think that you can ever err. And you resolve, I see, to use your Pow'r, And all ways prove your self my Conqueror,

Sta.

No, Sir, your Merits are so vastly great, More than all I can pay you is your Debt: Tis only they, which flood in their Excess, And being so high, to you do seem the less.

Oroon.

You load me now with such a Glorious Fate, I reel for want of strength to bear its weight. You give me Death, when you such Bounty give, And place me in too high a Sphere to live.

Sta.

What your Humility won't hear me name, You by the title of desert do claim.

Oroon.

Madam, This Blessing which to me you've given Transcends the petty Gifts sent down from Heaven. Life, Riches, Honour,—all must yield—your Love Makes me immortal, as the Gods above. Fate, do thy worst: my Life I'll not regard, Since such a Heav'ns at th'end for my reward.

Sta.

Ah! Sir, We must not rashly run to Death, Heav'n is to rule our Fate, as well as Breath.

Oroon.

Madam, My Fortune to your Will shall bow, You are my Heav'n, and I'll be rul'd by you. The chance of War, durst not your pow'r dispute, You, and the Gods, are alike absolute. But yet— Roxana still my dismal rack does prove, And I am tortur'd by her hated Love. She would have me adore her, and despise The pow'rful Charms of your triumphant Eyes.

But by the Gods I swear, I ne're will do, What base Roxana would perswade me to.

Sta.

Nor I, my Oroondates, ne're will prove, True to Perdiccas, to be false to Love. What I decree, no pow'r shall ever shake, I fix the Resolutions that I make. Perdiccas too, shall see I can despise. His hated Love, in midst of Cruelties: And Death from him I shall more highly prize.

Oroon.

Ah! My Fair Queen, rather than see you die, I would bequeath you as a Legacie, And with my Life my Rival satisfie.

Sta.

But in my Breast a different flame I've bred, I'd rather, than unfaithful,—see you dead. Live then, dear Prince, either for none but me, Or die, and that way prove your constancy. E're to my Rival I could you bequeath, I could commit you to the hands of death:

Oroon.

And can you fear to find me e're untrue, Since I have all my life, and hopes from you? You may be sure I'll die, but that I'll prove My due regards to all the Rights of Love.