The Ambitious Step-mother

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The Ambitious Step-mother.

A

TRAGEDY.

To the Right Honourable the Earl of Jersey

TO THE

Right Honourable

THE

Earl of Jersey,

Lord Chamberlain of his Majesty's Houshold, &c.

My Lord,

I any thing may attone for the Liberty I take in offering this trifle to your Lordship, it is, that I will Engage not to be guilty of the Common Vice of Dedications, nor pretend to give the World an account of the many good qualities they ought to admire in your Lordship. I hope I may reckon on it as some little piece of merit, in an age where there are so many people write Panegyricks, and so few deserve 'em. I am sure you ought not to sit for your Picture, to so ill a hand as mine. Men of your Lordship's Figure and Station, tho Useful and Ornamantal to the Age they live in, are yet reserv'd for the Labours of the Historian, and the Entertainment of Posterity; nor ought to be aspers'd with such pieces of Flattery while living, as may render the true History sus- pected to those that come after. That which should take up all my Care at present, is most humbly to beg your Lordships pardon for Importuning you upon this account; for imagining that your Lordship, (whose hours are all dedicated to the best and most important uses) can have any leisure for this piece of Poetry. I beg, my Lord, that you will receive it, as it was meant, a mark of my Entire Respect and Veneration.

I hope it may be some advantage to me, that the Town has not receiv'd this Play ill; to have depended meerly upon your Lordships good nature, and have offer'd something without any degree of merit, would have been an unpardonable fault, especially to so good a Judge. The Play it self, as I present it to your Lordship, is a much more perfect Poem than it is in the representation on the Stage. I was led into an Error in the writing of it, by thinking that it would be easier to retrench than to add: But when I was at last necessitated, by reason of the extreme length, to cut off near six hundred Lines, I found that it was maim'd by it to a great disadvantage. The Fable (which has no manner of relation to any part of true History,) was left dark and intricate, for want of a great part of the narration, which was left out in the first Scene; and the Chain and Connexion, which ought to be in the Dialogue, was interrupted in many other places. But since what was omitted in the Acting, is now kept in, I hope it may indifferently Entertain your Lordship at an unbending hour. The faults which are most generally found, (and which I could be very proud of submitting to your Lordship's Judgment, if you can have leisure for so trivial a cause,) are, that the Catastrophe in the fifth Act is barbarous, and shocks the Audience. Some people, whose Judgment I ought to have a deference for, have told me that they wisht I had given the latter part of the story quite another turn; that Artaxerxes and Amestris ought to have been preserv'd, and made happy in the Conclusion of the Play; that besides the satisfaction which the Spectators would have had to have seen two Vertuous (or at least Innocent) Characters, rewarded and successful, there might have been also a more Noble and Instructive Moral drawn that way. I must confess if this be an Error, (as I perhaps it may,) it is a voluntary one and an Error of my Judgment: Since in the writing I actually made such a sort of an Objection to my self; and chose to wind up the story this way. Tragedies have been allow'd, I know, to be written both ways very beautifully. But since Terror and Pity are laid down for the Ends of Tragedy, by the great Master and Father of Criticism, I was always inclin'd to fancy, that the last and remaining Impressions, which ought to be left on the minds of an Audience, should proceed from one of these two. They should be struck with Terror in several parts of the Play, but always Conclude and go away with Pity, a sort of regret proceeding from good nature, which, tho an uneasiness, is not always disagreeable, to the person who feels it. It was this passion that the famous Mr Otway succeeded so well in touching, and must and will at all times affect people, who have any tenderness or humanity. If therefore I had sav'd Artaxerxes and Amestris, I believe (with submission to my Judges) I had destroy'd the greatest occasion for Compassion in the whole Play. Any body may perceive, that she is rais'd to some degrees of happiness, by hearing that her Father and Husband are living, (whom she had suppos'd dead,) and by seeing the Enemy and Persecuter of her Family dying at her feet, purposely, that the turn of her death may be more surprizing and pitiful. As for that part of the Objection, which says, that Innocent persons ought not to be shewn unfortunate; The success and general approbation, which many of the best Tragedies that have been writ, and which were built on that foundation, have met with, will be sufficient answer for me.

That which they call the Poetical Justice, is, I think, strictly observ'd, the two principal Contrivers of Evil, the Statesman and Priest, are punish'd with death; and the Queen is depos'd from her authority by her own Son; which, I suppose, will be allowed as the severest mortification that could happen to a woman of her Imperious temper.

If there can be any excuse for my Entertaining your Lordship with this Detail of Criticisms, it is, That I would have this first mark of the honour I have for your Lordship appear with as few faults as possible. Did not the prevailing Character of your Lordship's Excellent humanity and good nature encourage me, what ought I not to fear from the niceness of your Taste and Judgment? The delicacy of your reflexions may be very fatal to so rough a Draught as this is; but if I will believe, (as I am sure I ought to do) all men that I have heard speak of your Lordship, they bid me hope every thing from your Goodness. This is that I must sincerely own, which made me extremely Ambitious of your Lordship's Patronage for this Piece. I am but too sensible, that there are a multitude of faults in it; but since the good nature of the Town has cover'd, or not taken notice of 'em, I must have so much discretion, as not to look with an affected nicety into 'em my self. With all the Faults and Imperfections which it may have, I must own, I shall be yet very well satisfied with it, if it gives me an opportunity of reckoning my self from this time,

Your Lordship's most Obedient,

and devoted humble Servant,

N. Rowe.

The Prologue. Spoke by Mr. Batterton

The Prologue. Spoke by Mr Batterton.

If Dying Lovers yet deserve a Tear, >>> If a sad story of a Maids despair, Yet move Compassion in the pitying fair, This day the Poet does his Art employ, The soft accesses of your Souls to try. Nor let the Stoick boast his mind unmov'd, The Brute Philosopher, who ne're has prov'd The Joy of Loving or of being Lov'd; Who scorns his humane nature to confess, And striving to be more than man, is less. Nor let the men, the weeping fair accuse Those kind protectors of the Tragick Muse, Whose Tears did moving Otways labours crown, And made the poor Monimias Grief their own: Those Tears, their art, not weakness has confest, >>> Their Grief approv'd the niceness of their taste, And they wept most, because they judg'd the best. O cou'd this Age's Writers hope to find An Audience to Compassion thus inclin'd, The Stage would need no Farce, nor Song nor Dance, Nor Capering Monsieur brought from Active France. Clinch and his Organ Pipe, his Dogs and Bear, >>> To native Barnet might again repair, Or breathe with Captain Otter, Bankside Air. Majestick Tragedy shou'd once agen In Purple Pomp adorn the swelling Scene. Her search shou'd ransack all the Ancient's store, >>> The Fortunes of their Loves and Arms explore, Such as might grieve you, but shou'd please you more. What Shakespear durst not, this bold Age shou'd do, And famous Greek and Latian Beauties show.

Shakespear, whose Genius to its self a Law, >>> Cou'd men in every height of Nature draw, And Copy'd all but women that he saw. Those Ancient Heroines your concern shou'd move, Their Grief and Anger much, but most their Love; For in the account of every Age we find The best and fairest of that Sex were kind, To Pity always, and to Love inclin'd. Assert, ye fair ones, who in Judgment sit, Your Ancient Empire over Love and Wit; Reform our Sense, and teach the men t' Obey, They'll leave their Tumbling if you lead the way. Be but what those before to Otway were; O were you but as kind, we know you are as fair.

Dramatis Personæ

Dramatis Personæ.

MEN.

| Artaxerxes, Prince of Persia, Eldest Son to the King Arsaces, by a former Queen. | Mr. Verbrugen.

| Artaban, Son to Arsaces, by Artemisa. | Mr. Booth.

| Memnon, Formerly General to Arsaces, now disgrac'd; a friend to Artaxerxes. | Mr. Batterton.

| Mirza, First Minister of State, in the interest of Artemisa and Artaban. | Mr. Freeman.

| Magas, Priest of the Sun, friend to Mirza and the Queen. | Mr. Bowman.

| Cleanthes, Friend to Artaban. | Mr. Pack.

| Orchanes, Captain of the Guards to the Queen. | Mr. Baily.

WOMEN.

| Artemisa, Formerly the Wife of Tiribasus a Persian Lord, now married to the King, and Queen of Persia. | Mrs. Barry.

| Amestris, Daughter to Memnon, in love with, and belov'd by Artaxerxes. | Mrs. Bracegirdle.

| Cleone, Daughter to Mirza, in love with Artaxerxes, and belov'd by Artaban. | Mrs. Bowman.

| Beliza, Confident to Cleone. | Mrs. Martin.

Act I, Scene I

The Ambitious Step-mother.

ACT I.

SCENE I. A Royal Palace.

<>Enter at several Doors Mirza and Magas.

What bringst thou, Magas? Say, how fares the King?

Mag. As one, whom when we number with the living, We say the most we can; tho sure it must Be happier far, to quit a wretched being, Than keep it on such terms: For as I enter'd The Royal Lodging, an universal horror Struck thro my Eyes, and chill'd my very Heart; The chearful day was every where shut out With care, and left a more than midnight darkness, Such as might ev'n be felt: A few dim Lamps, That feebly lifted up their sickly heads, Lookt faintly thro the shade, and made it seem More dismal by such light; while those that waited, In solemn sorrow, mixt with wild amazement, Observ'd a dreadful silence.

Mirz. Didst thou see him?

Mag. My Lord, I did; treading with gentle steps, I reacht the Bed, which held the poor remains Of great Arsaces, just as I approacht, His drooping lids, that seem'd for ever clos'd, Were faintly rear'd, to tell me that he liv'd: The balls of sight, dim and depriv'd of motion,

Sparkled no more with that Majestick sire, At which ev'n Kings have trembled; but had lost Their common useful office, and were shaded With an eternal night; struck with a sight, That shew'd me humane nature faln so low, I hastily retir d.

Mirz. He dyes too soon; And fate if possible must be delay d; The thought that labours in my forming brain, Yet crude and immature, demands more time. Have the Physicians giv'n up all their hopes? Cannot they add a few days to a Monarch, In recompence of thousand vulgar fates, Which their Drugs daily hasten?

Mag. As I past The outward Rooms, I found 'em in Consult; I askt 'em if their art was at a stand, And could not help the King; they shook their heads, And in most grave and solemn wise, unfolded Matter, which little purported, but words Rankt in right learned phrase; all I could learn, was; That Nature's kindly warmth was quite extinct, Nor could the breath of art kindle again Th' Etherial fire.

Mirz. My Royal Mistress Artemisas fate, And all her Son Young Artabans high hopes, Hang on this lucky Crisis; since this day. The haughty Artaxerxes and old Memnon Enter Persepolis: The yearly Feast Devoted to our glorious God the Sun, Hides their designs under a holy veil; And thus Religion is a mask for Faction. But let their Guardian Genii still be watchful, For if they chance to nod, my waking vengeance Shall surely catch that moment to destroy 'em.

Mag. 'Tis said the fair Amestris, Memnons Daughter, Comes in their company.

Mirz. That fatal Beauty, With most malignant influence, has crost My first and great Ambition. When my Brother, The great Cleander fell by Memnons hand, (You know the story of our Houses quarrel) I sought the King for Justice on the Murderer; And to confirm my interest in the Court, In confidence of mighty wealth and power, A long descent from Noble Ancestors, And somewhat of the Beauty of the Maid, I offer'd my Cleone to the Prince Fierce Artaxerxes; he, with rude disdain Refus'd the proffer; and to grate me more, Publickly own'd his passion for Amestris; And in despight ev'n of his Fathers Justice, Espous'd the Cause of Memnon.

Mag. Ev'n from that noted Æra, I remember You dated all your service to the Queen, Our Common Mistress.

Mirz. 'Tis true, I did so; Nor was it in vain; She did me right, and satisfy'd my vengeance; Memnon was banisht, and the Prince disgrac'd Went into Exile with him. Since that time, Since I have been admitted to her Council, And have seen her, with unerring judgment guide The Reins of Empire, I have been amaz'd, To see her more than manly strength of Soul, Cautious in good success, in bad unshaken; Still arm'd against the uncertain turns of Chance, Untoucht by any weakness of her Sex, Their Superstition, Pity, or their Fear; And is a Woman only in her Cunning. What story tells of great Semiramis, Or Rolling Time, that gathers as it goes, Has added more, such Artemisa is.

Mag. Sure 'twas a mark of an uncommon Genius, To bend a Soul like that of great Arsaces, And Charm him to her sway.

Mirz. Certainly Fate, Or somewhat like the force of Fate, was in it; And still whene're remembrance sets that scene Before my eyes, I view it with amazement.

Mag. I then was young, a stranger to the Court, And only took the story as reported By different Fame, you must have known it better.

Mirz. Indeed I did, then favour'd by the King, And by that means a sharer in the secret. 'Twas on a day of publick Festival, When Beauteous Artemisa stood to view, Behind the Covert of a Golden Lattice, When King and Court returning from the Temple; When just as by her stand Arsaces past, The Windows, by design or chance, fell down, And to his view expos'd her blushing Beauties. She seem'd surpriz'd, and presently withdrew, But ev'n that moment was an age in Love; So was the Monarchs heart for passion moulded, So apt to take at first the soft impression. Soon as we were alone, I found the Evil Already past a Remedy, and vainly Urg'd the resentment of her injur'd Lord: His Love was deaf to all.

Mag. Was Tiribasus absent?

Mir. He was then General of the Horse, Under old Memnon in the Median War. But if that distant view so much had charm'd him, Imagine how he burnt, when, by my means, He view'd her Beauties nearer, when each action, And every graceful sound conspir'd to charm him: Joy of her Conquest, and the hopes of Greatness, Gave Lustre to her Charms, and made her seem Of more than mortal Excellence. In short, After some faint resistance, like a Bride That strives a while, tho eager for the bliss, The furious King Enjoy'd her. And to secure their Joys, a snare was laid

For her unthinking Lord, in which he fell Before the fame of this could reach his Ears. Since that, she still has by successful Arts Maintain'd that power, which first her beauty gain'd.

Mag. With deepest foresight, wisely has she laid A sure foundation of the future greatness Of Artaban, her only darling Son. Each busie thought, that rouls within her breast, Labours for him; the King, when first he sicken'd, Declar'd he should succeed him in the Throne.

Mir. That was a point well gain'd; nor were the Eldership Of Artaxerxes worth our least of fears, If Memnons interest did not prop his Cause. Since then they stand secur'd, by being joyn'd, From reach of open force; it were a Masterpiece Worthy a thinking head, to sow division And seeds of jealousie, to lose those bonds, Which knit and hold 'em up, that so divided, With ease they might be ruin'd.

Mag. That's a difficulty, next to impossible.

Mir. Cease to think so; The wise and active conquer difficulties, By daring to attempt 'em; sloth and folly Shiver and shrink at sight of toil and hazard, And make th' impossibility they fear; Ev'n Memnons temper seems to give th' occasion; Of wrong impatient, headlong to revenge; Tho bold, yet wants that faculty of thinking, That should direct his anger. Valiant fools Were made by Nature for the wise to work with; They are their tools, and 'tis the sport of Statesmen, When Heroes knock their knotty heads together, And fall by one another.

Mag. What you've said, Has wak'd a thought in me which may be lucky; Ere he was banisht for your Brothers murder, There was a friendship 'twixt us; and tho then

I left his barren soil, to root my self More safely, under your auspicious shade, Yet still pretending tyes of ancient Love, At his arrival here I'll visit him; Whence this advantage may at least be made, To ford his shallow Soul.

Mirz. Oh much, much more; 'Twas happily remembred, nothing gulls These open, unsuspecting fools, like friendship; Dull heavy things! whom Nature has left honest In meer frugality, to save the Charge She's at in setting out a thinking Soul: Who, since their own short understandings reach No farther than the present, think ev'n the wise, Like them, disclose the secrets of their breasts, Speak what they think, and tell tales of themselves: Thy function too will varnish o're our arts, And sanctifie dissembling.

Mag. Yet still I doubt, His caution may draw back, and fear a snare.

Mirz. Tell him, the better to assist the fraud, That ev'n I wish his friendship, and would gladly Forget that cause of hate, which long has held us At mortal distance, give up my revenge, A grateful Offering to the publick peace.

Mag. Could you afford him such a bribe as that, A Brothers blood yet unatton'd4

Mirz. No Magas, It is not in the power of fate to raze That thought from out my memory; Eternal night, 'tis true, may cast a shade On all my faculties, extinguish knowledge; And great Revenge may with my Being cease; But while I am, that ever will remain, And in my latest Spirits still survive. Yet, I would have thee promise that, and more, The friendship of the Queen, the restitution Of his Command, and Honours, that his Daughter

Shall be the Bride of Artaban; say any thing; Thou knowst the Faith of Courtiers, and their Oaths, Like those of Lovers, the Gods laugh at 'em.

Mag. Doubt not my zeal to serve our Royal Mistress, And in her Interest yours, my Friend and Patron.

Mirz. My worthy Priest! still be my friend, and share The utmost of my power, by greatness rais'd. >>>Embracing. Thou like the God thou serv'st, shall shine aloft, And with thy influence rule the under world. But see! the Queen appears; she seems to muse, Her thoughtful Soul, labours with some event Of high import, which bustles like an Embryo In its dark room, and longs to be disclos'd. Retire, lest we disturb her. >>They retire to the side of the Stage.

<>Enter the Queen attended.

Qu. Be fixt, my Soul, fixt on thy own firm basis! Be constant to thy self; nor know the weakness, The poor Irresolution of my Sex: Disdain those shews of danger, that would bar My way to glory. Ye Diviner Pow'rs! By whom 'tis said we are, from whose bright Beings Those active sparks were struck which move our clay, I feel, and I Confess the Etherial energy, That busie restless principle, whose appetite Is only pleas'd with greatness like your own: Why have you clogg'd it then with dull mass, And shut it up in Woman? Why debas'd it To an Inferiour part of the Creation? Since, your own heavenly hands mistook my lot, 'Tis you have err'd, not I. Could Fate e're mean Me, for a Wife, a Slave to Tiribasus! To such a thing as he! a Wretch! a Husband! Therefore in just assertion of my self, I shook him off, and past those narrow limits, Which Laws contrive in vain for Souls born great.

There is not, must not be a bound for greatness; Power gives a sanction, and makes all things just. Ha! Mirza! Worthy Lord! I saw thee not, >>>Seeing Mirza. So busie were my faculties in thought.

Mir. The thoughts of Princes dwell in sacred privacy, Unknown and venerable to the vulgar; >>>Bowing. And like a Temples innermost recesses, None enters, to behold the hallow'd mysteries, Unbidden of the God that dwells within.

Qu. Wise Mirza! were my Soul a Temple, fit For Gods, and Godlike Counsels to inhabit, Thee only would I choose of all mankind, To be the Priest, still favour'd with access; Whose piercing Wit, sway'd by unerring Judgment, Might mingle ev'n with assembled Gods, When they devise unchangeable decrees, And call 'em Fate.

Mirz. Whate're I am, each faculty, The utmost power of my Exerted Soul, Preserves a being only for your service; And when I am not yours, I am no more:

Qu. Time shall not know an end of my acknowledgments, But every day of our continu'd lives Be witness of my gratitude, to draw The knot, which holds our Common Interest, closer; Within six days, my Son, my Artaban, Equally dear to me as life and glory, In publick shall Espouse the fair Cleone, And be my pledge of Everlasting Amity.

Mir. O Royal Lady! you out-bid my service; And all returns are vile, but words the poorest.

Qu. Enough! be as thou hast been, still my friend, I ask no more. But I observe of late, Your Daughter grows a stranger to the Court; Know you the cause?

Mirz. A melancholy Girl; Such in her Infancy her Temper was, Soft ev'n beyond her Sexes tenderness;

By nature pitiful, and apt to grieve For the mishaps of others, and so make The sorrows of the wretched world her own. Her Closet and the Gods share all her time, Except when (only by some Maid attended) She seeks some shady solitary Grove, Or by the gentle murmur of some Brook Sits sadly listning to a tale of sorrow, Till with her tears she swell the narrow stream.

Qu. It is not well, these thoughts must be remov'd: That eating Canker Grief, with wasteful spight, Preys on the Rosie bloom of Youth and Beauty: But Love shall chace away these clouds of sadness; My Son shall breathe so warm a gale of sighs, As shall dissolve those Isicles, that hang Like death about her heart. Attend us, holy Magus, to the King, Nor cease to importune the mighty Gods To grant him health, tho much I fear in vain. >>Exit Queen, Magas, and Attendants.

<>Manet Mirza.

Mirz. This meddling Priest longs to be found a fool; Thinks he that Memnon, Souldier as he is, Thoughtless, and dull, will listen to his soothing? Howe're, I gave his wise proposal way, Nay, urg'd him to go on; the shallow fraud Will ruine him for ever with my Enemies, And make him firmly mine, spight of his fears And natural inconstancy. While Choice remains he will be still unsteady, And nothing but necessity can fix him. >>>Exit.

<>Enter Artaxerxes, Memnon and Attendants.

Artax. Methinks, my noble Father and my Friend, We enter here like strangers, and unlookt for: Each busie face we meet, with wonder starts, And seems amaz'd to see us.

Mem. Well may th' ignoble herd Start, if with heedless steps they unawares Tread on the Lyons walk; a Prince's genius Awes with supiner greatness all beneath him. With wonder they behold the great Arsaces Reviv'd again in Godlike Artaxerxes. In you they see him, such as oft they did Returning from his Wars, and Crown'd with Conquest, When all our Virgins met him on the way, And with their Songs and Dances blest his Triumph: Now basely aw'd by factious Priests and Women, They start at Majesty, and seem surpriz'd As if a God had met 'em. In Honours name Why have we let this be? Why have we languisht? And suffer'd such a Government as this To waste our strength, and wear our Empire low?

Art. Curst be the means by which these ills arose, Fatal alike to me as to my Country; Which my great Soul, unable to revenge, Has yet with indignation only seen, Cut off by Arts of Coward Priests and Statesmen, Whom I disdain'd with servile smiles to court, From the great right which God and Nature gave, My birthright to a Throne.

Mem. Nor Priests, nor Statesmen, Could have compleated such an ill as that, If Woman had not mingled in the mischief; If Artimesa had not, by her Charms, And all her Sex's Cunning, wrought the King, Old, obvious to her arts, decay'd in greatness, Dead to the memory of what once he was, Just crawling on the verge of wretched life, A burthen to himself, and his friends pity; Among his other failings, to forget All that a Father and a King could owe To such a Son as you were; to cut you off From your Succession, from your hopes of Empire, And graft her upstart offspring on to Royalty.

Artax. But if I beat it, Oh may I live to be my Brothers Slave, The scorn of those brave Friends that own my Cause; May you my Father spurn me for a Coward, May all my noble hopes of Love and Glory Leave me to vile despair. By heaven, my heart Sits lighter in my bosome, when I think That I this day shall meet the Boy my Brother, Whose young Ambition with aspiring wings Dares ev'n to mate my greatness.

Mem. Fame, that speaks Minutely every circumstance of Princes, Describes him bold, and fiercely fond of power, Which ev'n in spight of Nature he affects. Impatient of Command, and hardly daigning To be controll'd by his Imperious Mother. 'Tis said too (as no means were left untry'd, Which might prepare and fit him to contend With a superiour right of birth and merit,) That Books, and the politer Arts, (which those Who know admire) have been his care; already He mingles in their Councils, and they trust His youth with secrets of important villany. The Crowd, taught by his Creatures to admire him, Stile him a God in Wisdom.

Artax. Be that his glory, Let him with Pedants hunt for praise in Books, Pore out his Life amongst the lazy Gown-men, Grow old and vainly proud in fancy'd knowledge, Unequal to the task of vast Ambition. Ambition! the desire of active Souls, That pushes 'em beyond the bounds of Nature, And elevates the Hero to the Gods. But see! my Love, your beauteous Daughter comes, And ev'n Ambition ckens at her sight.

<>Enter Amestris attended. Revenge, and fierce desires of Glory, cease To urge my passions, master'd by her eyes; And only gentle fires now warm my breast.

Amest. I come, my Father, to attend your order. >>To Memnon.

Mem. 'Tis well; and I would have thee still be near me, The malice of the Faction which I hate, Would vent it self even on thy Innocence, Wert thou not safe under a Fathers Care.

Art. Oh say a Lover's too; nor can you have An Interest in her safety more than mine. Love gives a Right superiour ev'n to Nature; Or Love is Nature, in the noblest meaning, The cause and the preserver of the world. These arms that long to press thee to my bosome, For ever shall defend thee.

Mem. Therefore, my Son, Unto your Care I leave our common charge; Tigranes with our friends expects my orders; Those when I have dispatcht, upon the instant I will return, and meet at your apartment. >>>Exit Memnon.

Art. Come to my arms, and let me hide thee there From all those fears that vex thy beating heart, Be safe and free from all those fancy'd dangers, That haunt thy Apprehension.

Ames. Can you blame me? If from retirement drawn and pleasing solitude, I fear to tempt this Stormy Sea the World, Whose every Beach is strew'd with wrecks of wretches, That daily perish in it. Curst Ambition! Why dost thou come to trouble my repose, Who have even from my Infancy disclaim'd thee?

Art. Cease to complain, my Love, and let no thought But what brings peace and joy approach thy breast. Let me impart my manly fires to thee, To warm thy fancy to a taste of glory;