I, with some trusty few, with speed came forward,
To raise our friends within, and gain your freedom.
Nor hazard longer, by delays, your safety.
Already faithful Phraates has gain'd

A num'rous party of the citizens;

With these we mean t'attack the Royal Palace,
Crush the bold tyrant with surprize, while sunk
In false security; and vengeance wreck,

'Ere that he thinks the impious crime be known.
ARSACES. O! parent being, Ruler of yon heav'n!
Who bade creation spring to order, hear me.
What ever sins are laid upon my soul,

Now let them not prove heavy on this day,

To sink my arm, or violate my cause.

The sacred rights of Kings, my Country's wrongs,
The punishment of fierce impiety,

And a lov'd Father's death, call forth my sword.

Now on; I feel all calm within my breast,

And ev'ry busy doubt is hush'd to rest;
Smile heav'n propitious on my virtuous cause,
Nor aid the wretch who dares disdain your laws.

END of the FOURTH ACT.

ACT V, SCENE I.

The PALACE.

The Curtain rises, slowly, to soft music, and discovers Evanthe sleeping on a Sofa; after the music ceases, Vardanes enters.

VAR ANES. Now shining Empire standing at the goal, Beck'ns me forward to increase my speed;

But, yet Arsaces lives, bane to my hopes,

Lysias Iil urge to ease me of his life,

Then give the villain up to punishment.

The shew of justice gains the changeling croud.
Besides, I ne'er will harbour in my bosom.
Such serpents, ever ready with their stings-

-

But now one hour for love and fair Evanthe
Hence with ambition's cares - see, where reclin❜d,
In slumbers all her sorrows are dismiss'd,
Sleep seems to heighten ev'ry beauteous feature,
And adds peculiar softness to each grace.
She weeps

in dreams some lively sorrow pains her · I'll take one kiss oh! what a balmy sweetness! Give me another - and another still

For ever thus I'd dwell upon her lips.

Be still my heart, and calm unruly transports.

Wake her, with music, from this mimic death. [Music sounds.]

SONG

Tell me, Phillis, tell me why,

You appear so wond'rous coy,
When that glow, and sparkling eye,
Speak you want to taste the joy?
Prithee give this fooling o'er,
Nor torment your lover more.

While youth is warm within our veins,
And nature tempts us to be gay,
Give to pleasure loose the reins,
Love and youth fly swift away.
Youth in pleasure should be spent,
Age will come, we'll then repent.

EVANTHE (waking) I come ye lovely shades Still in the tyrant's palace? Ye bright pow'rs! Are all my blessings then but vis'onary? Methought I was arriv'd on that blest shore Where happy souls for ever dwell, crown'd with Immortal bliss; Arsaces led me through

Ha! am I here?

The flow'ry groves, while all around me gleam'd
Thousand and thousand shades, who welcom'd me
With pleasing songs of joy Vardanes, ha! -

VARDANES. Why beams the angry lightning of thine eye

Against thy sighing slave? Is love a crime?
Oh! if to dote, with such excess of passion
As rises e'en to mad extravagance

Is criminal, I then am so, indeed.
EVANTHE. Away! vile man!
VARDANES.

With all the humblest offices of love,

If to pursue thee e'er

If ne'er to know one single thought that does

Not bear thy bright idea, merits scorn

EVANTHE. Hence from my sight - nor let me, thus, pollute Mine eyes, with looking on a wretch like thee,

Thou cause of all my ills; I sicken at

Thy loathsome presence

VARDANES.

'Tis not always thus,

Nor dost thou ever meet the sounds of love

With rage and fierce disdain: Arsaces, soon,

Could smooth thy brow, and melt thy icy breast.

EVANTHE. Ha! does it gall thee? Yes, he could, he could; Oh! when he speaks, such sweetness dwells upon

His accents, all my soul dissolves to love,

And warm desire; such truth and beauty join'd!

His looks are soft and kind, such gentleness
Such virtue swells his bosom! in his eye

Sits majesty, commanding ev'ry heart.

Strait as the pine, the pride of all the grove,

More blooming than the spring, and sweeter far,
Than asphodels or roses infant sweets.

Oh! I could dwell forever on his praise,

Yet think eternity was scarce enough

To tell the mighty theme; here in my breast
His image dwells, but one dear thought of him,
When fancy paints his Person to my eye,
As he was wont in tenderness dissolv'd,
Sighing his vows, or kneeling at my feet,
Wipes off all mem'ry of my wretchedness.
VARDANES. I know this brav'ry is affected, yet
It gives me joy, to think my rival only
Can in imagination taste thy beauties.

Let him,

'twill ease him in his solitude,

And gild the horrors of his prison-house,
Till death shall

EVANTHE.

Ha! what was that? till death

Ah, now I feel distress's tort'ring pang
Thou canst not villain darst not think his death
O mis'ry! -

VARDANES. Naught but your kindness saves him,
Yet bless me, with your love, and he is safe;

But the same frown which kills my growing hopes,
Gives him to death.

JOHN WOOLMAN

[John Woolman, the Quaker, possessed a personal simplicity and a purity of heart that give great charm to his impractically idealistic writings. He was born in Northampton, N. J., in 1720, and passed his boyhood on a farm. During the greater part of his adult life he travelled among the Friends in different parts of America, speaking at their meetings, conversing with them personally, and working with especial vigor against slave-holding, which was then practised by some members of the society. On these trips he supported himself by working at his trade, that of a tailor, and sometimes by acting as a clerk or notary and drawing wills and other papers. In 1772 he went on a visit to the Quakers in England, and died of the smallpox in the city of York soon after his arrival. During his lifetime he published a few tracts, and his "Works" in two parts were issued in Philadelphia after his death. The most important of his writings is his "Journal," which has been many times reprinted. The selections here given are from the edition by J. G. Whittier, published in 1871.]

THE WEARING OF DYED GARMENTS
[From the "Journal"]

The use of hats and garments dyed with a dye hurtful to them, and wearing more clothes in summer than are useful, grew more uneasy to me, believing them to be customs which have not their foundation in pure wisdom. The apprehension of being singular from my beloved friends was a strait upon me, and thus I continued in the use of some things contrary to my judgment.

On the 31st of fifth month, 1761, I was taken ill of a fever, and after it had continued near a week I was in great distress of body. One day there was a cry raised in me that I might understand the cause of my affliction, and improve under it, and my conformity to some customs which I believed were not right was brought to my remembrance. In the continuance of this exercise I felt all the powers in me yield themselves up into the hands of Him who gave me being, and was made thankful that he had taken hold of me by his chastisements. Feeling the necessity of further purify