Page 57
SCENE XII.
Enter Lysimachus and Souldiers.
Sta.
Who e're thou beest that from the Queen art come,
About the Execution of my Doom;
Pause not upon the horror of the thing,
That I'm the Wife of him who was thy King,
Least you strike not, and that your Fate should bring.
Here sheath your Sword, your Tyrant Queen obey,
And let not pitty loyalty betray:
For I'm prepar'd to die—
Lys.
The Gods defend Lysimachus should come,
The Minister of such a horrid Doom.
Live, Live, Fair Queen, to re-possess your Throne,
For you are Sov'raign now in Babilon.
Sta.
Par. Heav'ns! Lysimachus!—
Sta.
We only could for our deliverance hope,
From your great Vertue, which can Ruin stop.
We owe our Lives, Lysimachus, to you;
But yet from Parisatis there is due,
(Beside the gen'ral Obligation,)
A greater Sense of this last service done.
Par.
Yes, this last Action does oblige me more,
Than any that you ever did before.
And I shall have as great a Sense of it▪
As your Desires, and Honour can admit.
Lys.
Of all the Glory in the World possest!
Oh how magnificently am I blest!
Par.
But, my Lysimachus, oh! let us know
How we were made so happy by you now.
Lys.
The Gods your safety by this Sword design'd,
Which with the Prince, your Brother, then was joyn'd,
When I receiv'd your first Intelligence—
Of your Detention here, and how the Queen,