Dramatis Perfonæ.

MEN.

ARTAXERXES, Prince of Perfia, Elder Son to King
Arfaces, by a former Queen.
ARTABAN, Son to Arfaces, by Artemisa:

MEMNON, Formerly General to Arfaces, now dif graced; a Friend to Artaxerxes.

MIRZA, First Minister of State, in the Interest of Artemifa and Artaban.

MAGAS, Prieft of the Sun, Friend to Mirza and the Queen.

CLEANTHES, Friend to Artaban.

ORCHANES, Captain of the Guards to the Queen.

WOMEN.

ARTEMISA, Formerly the Wife of Tiribafus, a Perfian Lord, now married to the King, and Queen of Perfia.

AMESTRIS, Daughter to Memnon, in Love with, and beloved by Artaxerxes.

CLEONE, Daughter to Mirza, in Love with Artaxerxes, and belov'd by Artaban.

BELIZA, Confident to Cleone.

THE

THE

AMBITIOUS STEP-MOTHER.

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ACT I. SCENE I.

A ROYAL PALACE.

Enter at feveral Doors, MIRZA and MAGAS.

W

MIRZA.

HAT bring'ft thou, Magas? Say, how fares the King?

Magas. As one, whom when we number

with the Living,

We fay the most we can; tho' fure it muft

Be happier far, to quit a wretched Being,

Than to keep it on fuch Terms: For as I enter'd
'The Royal Lodging, an univerfal 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,
A 4

Such

Such as might ev'n be felt: A few dimp Lamps,
That feebly lifted up their fickly Heads,

Look'd faintly thro' the Shade, and made it feem
More difmal by fuch Light; while those that waited
In folemn Sorrow mix'd with wild Amazement,
Obferv'd a dreadful Silence.

Mirza. Didft thou fee him?

Magas. My Lord, I did: Treading with gentle Steps,
I reach'd the Bed, which held the poor Remains
Of great Arfaces: Juft as I approach'd,

His drooping Lids, that feem'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 majeftic Fire,

At which ev'n Kings have trembled; but had loft
Their common ufeful Office, and were fhaded
With an eternal Night. Struck with a Sight,
That fhew'd me human Nature fall'n fo low,
I haftily retir'd.

Mirza. He dies too foon;

And Fate, if poffible, muft be delay'd.
The Thought that labours in my forming Brain,
Yet crude and immature, demands more Time,
Have the Phyficians given up all their Hopes?
Cannot they add a few Days to a Monarch,
In Recompence of a thoufand vulgar Fates,
Which their Drugs daily haften ?

Magas. As I paft

The outward Rooms, I found them in Confult;

I afk'd them if their Art was at a ftand,

And could not help the King. They fhook their Heads,

And in most grave and folemn wife unfolded

Matter, which little purported, but Words

Rank'd in right learned Phrafe; all I could learn, was,
That Nature's kindly Warmth was quite extinct,
Nor could the Breath of Art kindle again

Th' Ethereal Fire.

Mirza. My Royal Mistress Artemifa's Fate, And all her Son young Artaban's high Hopes, Hang on this lucky Crifis; fince this Day

The

1

The haughty Artaxerxes and old Memnon
Enter Perfepolis: The yearly Feast
Devoted to our glorious God the Sun,
Hides their Defigns under a holy Veil;
And thus Religion is a Mask for Faction.
But let their Guardian Genii ftill be watchful,
For if they chance to nod, my waking Vengeance
Shall furely catch that Moment to destroy 'em.
Magas. 'Tis faid the fair Ameftris, Memnon's Daughter,
Comes in their Company.

Mirza. That fatal Beauty,

With moft malignant Influence, haft croft
My firft and great Ambition. When my Brother,
The great Cleander, fell by Memnon's Hand,
(You know the Story of our Houfes Quarrel)
I fought the King for Juftice on the Murderer
And to confirm my Intereft in the Court,
In Confidence of mighty Wealth, and Power,
A long Defcent from noble Ancestors,
And fomewhat 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,
Publicly own'd his Paffion for Ameftris:
And in Despite ev'n of his Father's Juftice,
Efpous'd the Caufe of Memnon.

Magas. Ev'n from that noted Era, I remember
You dated all your Service to the Queen,
Our common Mistress.

Mirza. 'Tis true, I did fo: Nor was it in vain ;
She did me right, and fatisfy'd my Vengeance;
Memnon was banifh'd, and the Prince difgrac'd,
Went into Exile with him. Since that Time,
Since I have been admitted to her Council,
And feen her, with unerring Judgment, guide
The Reins of Empire, I have been amaz'd,
To fee her more than manly Strength of Soul,
Cautious in good Succefs, in bad unfhaken;
Still arm'd against the uncertain Turns of Chance,
Untouch'd by any Weakness of her Sex,
A 5

Their