From thee, moft injur'd man, fhall be my praise,
And rife above the conqueft of my foes.

NICANOR.

'Tis not old age, th' avenging gods pursue thee! [He retires before Nicanor off the ftage. A loud alarum. Enter BUSIRIS and AULETES, in pursuit.

BUSIRIS.

"Tis well; I like this madness of the field:
Let heighten'd horrors, and a waste of death,
Inform the world, Bufiris is in arms:
But then I grudge the glory of my fword
To flaves and rebels; while they die by me,
They cheat my vengeance, and survive in fame.
AULETES.

I panted after in the paths of death,

And could not but from far behold your plume
O'ershadow flaughter'd heaps, while your bright helm
Struck a diftinguish'd terror through the field,
The diftant legions trembling as it blaz'd.

BUSIRIS.

Think not a crown alone lights up my name;
My hand is deep in fight. Forbid it, Isis !
That whilft Bufiris treads the fanguine field,
The foremost spirit of his hoft should conquer
But by example, and beneath the fhade,

Of this high-brandish'd arm. Did'ft thou e'er fear?
Sure 'tis an art; I know not how to fear;

'Tis one of the few things beyond my power;

And if death must be fear'd before 'tis felt,
Thy master is immortal, O Auletes.-

But while I speak, they live!

Where fall the founding cataracts of Nile,
The mountains tremble, and the waters boil;
X 4

Like

Like them, I'll rush; like them my fury pour,
And give the future world one wonder more.

[Exeunt.

Enter MYRON, engaged with a party: His plume is smitten off: He drives the foe, and returns.

MYRON.

When death's fo near, but dares not venture on us,

'Tis heaven's regard, a kind of falutation, Which to ourselves our own importance fhews:Faint as I am, and almost fick of blood,

There is one cordial would revive me ftill;

The fight of Memnon; place that fiend before me.

Enter ΜΕΜΝΟΝ,

ΜΕΜΝΟΝ.

[Exit.

Where, where's the prince? O give him to my fword! His tall white plume, which, like a high-wrought foam, Floated on the tempeftuous ftream of fight,

Shew'd where he swept the field; I follow'd swift,

But my approach has turn'd him into air.

[Enter MYRON.

The fight but now begins!

MYRON.

Why, who art thou?
ΜΕΜΝΟΝ.

Prince, I am

MYRON. [Disdainfully.]

Memnon!

ΜΕΜΝΟΝ.

No-I'm Mandane.

MYRON.

Ha!

MEMNON.

ΜΕΜΝΟΝ. [Striking his own head and breaft.] She's here, fhe's here, fhe's all: Her wrongs and virtues! Virtues and wrongs! Thou worfe than murderer!

MYRON.

I charge thee name her not; forbear the croak

With that ill-omen'd note.

ΜΕΜΝΟΝ.

Mandane!

MYRON.

Be it fo.

When I reflect on her mean love for thee,
And plot against my life, my pain is less.
ΜΕΜΝΟΝ.

'Tis falfe; fhe meant, fhe knew it not; Rameses,
He, only he, was confcious of the thought.

MYRON.

Then I'm a wretch indeed!

MEMNON.

As fuch I'll use thee:

I'll crush thee like fome poifon on the earth;
Then hafte and cleanfe me in the blood of men.

MYRON.

I thank thee, for this spirit which exalts thee
Into a foe I need not blush to meet :

Now, from my foul, it joys me thou art found;
And found alive: By heav'n, so much I hate thee,
I fear'd that thou waft dead, and hadst escap'd me:
I'll drench my fword in thy detested blood,
Or foon make thee immortal by my own.

Villain !

ΜΕΜΝΟΝ.

Myron!

MYRON.

Rebel!

ΜΕΜΝΟΝ.

MYRON. [Falls.]

Juft the blow, and juster still,

Because imbitter'd to me by that hand

I most deteft; which gives my foul an earnest
Of vaft unfathomable woes to come;
That dreadful dowry for my dreadful love.
I leave the world my mifery's example;

If us'd aright, no trivial legacy.

Enter SYPHOCES.

SYPHOCES.

My lord, I bring you most unwelcome news:
As poor Mandane wander'd near the field,
In hope to fee her injuries reveng❜d,
Thoughtless of any fufferings but the past,

A

party of the foe faw, feiz'd, and bore her off.
ΜΕΜΝΟΝ.

Vengeance and conqueft now are trivial things;
Love made their prize. "Tis impious in my foul

To entertain a thought but of her rescue :
Now, now, I plunge into the thickest war,

As fome bold diver, from a precipice

Into mid ocean, to regain a gem

Whose lofs impoverish'd kings; to bring it back,

Or fee the day no more.

Enter MANDANE, prisoner.

MANDANE.

A gen'rous foe will hear his captive speak;

[Dies

[Exeunt.

A benefit

A benefit thus, kneeling, I implore:

Let one of all those swords that glitter round me,
Vouchsafe to hide its point within my breaft.

Enter MEMNON.

ΜΕΜΝΟΝ.

Ah villains curfed Atheists! Can you bear
That posture from that form? What, what are numbers,
When I behold thofe eyes! Not mine the glory,
That fingly thus I quell a hoft of foes.

Inhuman robbers! O bring back my foul!

[They force her off. He rushes in upon them, and is taken. Poor comfort to mankind, that they can lofe

Their lives but once-But, oh! a thousand times
Be torn from what they love.

Enter RAMESES.

RAMESES.

Far have I waded in the bloody field,
Laborious through the stubborn ranks of war,
And trac'd thee in a labyrinth of death;
But thus to find thee !-Better find thee dead!
These flaves will ufe thee ill.

MEMNON.

Of that no more:

Myron is dead, and by this arm.

RAMESES.

I thank thee:

All my few spirits left exult with joy;

I'll chase and scourge him through the lower world.

MEMNON.

Alas, thou bleed'ft!

RAMESES.

Curfe on the tyrant's fword;

I bleed