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Show T8 BU S I R I S, Thinks the Day loft that is not rmrk'd with Blood. Ram And have w e felt a Tyrant twenty Yean? FcU him, as the raw W o u n d the burning Steel, And are we, murmuring out our Midnight Curefs, Drying our Tears it Concerns, and Complaining? Our Hands are forfeited Gods / Strike them off. N o Hands we need to fatten our o w n Chains, Our Mafters will do that; and w e Waht Souls T o raife them to an Ufe more worthy Men. Mem. Ruffles your Temper at Offences paft ? Here then, to fling thee into Madnefs. ^ [Gives the Letter. Ramefesrv/ftfj. Ram. Oh ! Sypb. See how the ftruggling Paffions fhakc bii Frame ! Ram. M y Boforojoy, that crowns m y happy Bed With tender lleJges of our mutual Love, Far dearer than m y Soul! and fhall m y Wife, T h e Mother of m y little Innocents, Be taken from us! Torn from me ! from mine; W h o live but on her Sight! and fhall I hear Her Cries for Succour, and not rufh upon him ? M y Infant hanging at the Neck upbraids nr, Andftruggles with his little Arms to fave her.-- Thefe Veins have ftill fome gen'rons Blood in flore, T b e Dregs of thofe rich Streams his Wars have drain'd ; I'll giv't in Dowry with her. Pher. Well refolv'd: A tardy Vengeance fhares the Tyrant's Guilt. Ram. Let me embrace thee, Pheron, thou art brave, And do'ft difdain the Coldlefs of Del?y. Curfc on the M a n that calls Ramefes Friend, A n d keeps his Temper at a Tale like this; W h e n Rage and Rancour are the proper Virtues, And Lofs of Reafon is the M a r k of Men. Mem, Thus I'vcdctermin'd ; when the Midnight Hour Lulls this proud City, and her Monarch dreams KING of Egypt. 19 Of humbled Foes, or his new Miftrefs' Love, Then we will rufh at once, let loofe the Terrors Of Rage pent in, and ftruggling twenty Years To find a Vent, and at one dreadful Blow Begin and end the War. A more aufpicious Juncture cou'd not happen. ThcPerfan, who for Years has join'd our Counfeli Stirr'dup the Love of Freedom, and in private Long nurs'd the glorious Appetite with Gold This Morn with Tranfport fnatch'd the wifh'd Or cafion **" Of throwing his Rofentment wide, and now He frowns in Arms, and gives th' Hvent to Fate ta^Mri fhall drag the T y n n f f l ^ And ftab the Royal Vi£tim on this Al-ar M-OJJ* thought l^i!*?g And here onr (^/FT&^ST T' Who never brook'd a Tyrant in M . r ^ 0 m b , i L« ns not aa^eneath , L Grand A V ^ M " The (lighted Altar* trembl* a u , u w -£'? ! Send forth a Peal of K , , ' . Me Tomb* Come then, f o r r o u n T Z B I ^ J ! ^ <>"• And call hi. Shade to witatf. ?« M°nun,c'!t» . Rom. Nor hi, alore oh n y0Ur Vow>- The Tyrant'i Couch ,„ji7 . around Whether already y £ " A * * ' ^guilty Soal. Pr<tm W o w in ^ZV!^"" G^> hear, ''"a:,u yo" moft inj«i»d H n . |