University of Virginia Library

Actus secundus

Scena prima.

HALA alone.
Hala.

Scena secunda.

Hala, Alaham.
Hala.
King of my selfe! Redeemer of our fame!
What secret clouds doe ouercast your heart?
Counsell, and time doe both worke one effect,
And either cure, or cleare what we suspect.

Alah.
My wounds can haue no cure; my feares haue cast
Nature, and truth into afflictions moulds;
The workes of time, and counsell both are past.
When hearts once from themselues are runne astray,
Chance must their guide be, violence their way.

Hala.
Chance is not cast in moulds, like other Arts,
Her counsells but the hope of rashnesse be;
Aduice did neuer any man betray:
If truth be luckie, counsell is the way.

Alaham.
If counsell be the guide of vndertaking,
Our powers best with our owne wits doe agree,
Where both the meanes, and ends together be.

Hala.
Who trusts his passion multiplies his care;
All paines within, all cures without vs are.

Alaham.
If you captiued be I speake withall,
Then from my passion into yours I fall.

Hala.
My state of minde, good will, and homage is;
My being, reuerence; my end, your will;
Selfe-loue it selfe payes tribute vnto this.

Alah.
If loue haue power to leaue, and breake her vow;
How can I trust to that you promise now?
If loue change not; how can I trust, and know,
That you loue Mahomet, my ouerthrow?

Hala.
His place deseru'd respect, his vertue praise;
Our freedome, not inhibited by you,
Found many things indifferent to doe.

Alaham.
Forbidding is the prison of the thought,
A violence which on themselues they draw,
That inwardly of nothing stand in awe.
But marke the end: he first despiseth thee,
Then triumphs in thy once forsaken loue;
Proclaimes deceipt to be thy state of mind,
Vncompetible, vnpossible to finde.
So as if I should rule this glorious Throne,
You ruling me (as he assumes you doe)
The State and I at once were ouerthrowne.

Hala.
Good nature then (I see) is not the art,
With which a womans honor safe may goe
Through hollow seas of mans dissembling heart.
His faithlesnesse yet doth this good to me,
That I may freely hate all men, but thee.

Alaham.
Hate is the band of furie in the heart,
Without reuenge, no more but sense of smart.

Hala.
Hate is the print of iniurie violent,
Only in ruine, and reuenge content.

Alaham.
Reuenges, in your sex, dishonor be;
And in your strength, impossibilitie.
Impatience only doth with God make warre.

Hala.
Furie findes armes; wronghath ill destinie;
While God is, it is basenesse to despaire:
For right more credit hath than power there.

Alaham.
Yet God, and kings vse wisdome in their might,
Reward, and grace doe from their owne hands part;
They others vse for instruments of spite.

Hala.
Whom can we vse? Since he we hate is great,
And we disgrac'd: Who hazard will his State
With him, that for his owne good must intreat?

Alaham.
Aspirers are not voyd of riuall hate:
If any enuy him, or loue our right,
Reuenge lies there; their liues desire Art.

Hala.
Of God I aske it; and in men will moue,
As much as can be wrought with hope, or loue.
But men vncertaine are, blowne here, and there,
With loue, remorse, feares which in frayltie liue;
Who need forgiuenesse, easily doe forgiue.
The heart which feeles, most liuely can expresse
Reuenge, that picture of his guiltinesse.

Alaham.
Ruine, the power (not art) of Princes is:
Caine is ingag'd as deep as we in this.

Hala.
The wounds are mine; to me belongs reuenge;
Sense my aduiser is; you Sir, my end:
What needs a womans passion more to friend?

Alaham.

Exit.
Hala.

Scena Tertia.

Caine Bassha, Hala.
Caine.
Princesse of me! I finde care in your face,
Woe smothered vp; I came to know your will;
Nothing which you command me can be ill.

Hala.
That which I least did feare is fall'n on me,
Wrong and mishap; which needing others loue,
Makes them vnlouely that vnhappy be.
From Kings themselues when fortune turnes her face;
Then need they most, yet least may vse their owne.
So dearly Mans vnthankfulnesse is knowne.

Caine.
What is the cause that makes you thus accuse
The world of faults, your selfe of inward feare?

Hala.
The little faith which all the world doth vse;
The iniuries which strength of heart must beare:
Euui'd of all, if it be set aboue;
If humble, then too low for men to loue.

Caine.
Doe not forsake your selfe: For they that doe,
Offend, and teach the world to leaue them too.
Mortall our God shall be; the truth shall lie;
Darkenesse shall see her selfe; fame lose her voyce;
Er'e I will leaue my loue, or my loue you:
Afflictions wounds affection doe renew.

Hala.
Perchance you loue both those I hate, and me;
Affections then against affection be.
Perchance a vow, good turnes, and good beleefe
Are mists betweene your loue, and my releefe.

Caine.
You know I loue: speake plaine, and doe not feare,
That reason other is than kindnesse there.

Hala.
Then heare: and if my iudgement you disproue,
You shall haue cause to thinke I trust, and loue.
Mahomet the faultie is, his faults be these:
Enuious of thee, to my loue treacherous;
The King must lose his sight, his Crowne, his Sonne:
This wickednesse hath Mahomet begunne.

Caine.
O hell! and is thy seate in fleshly hearts?
Be mans ill thoughts his owne ill spirits become?
I well can thinke that Mahomet aspires;
For loue of greatnesse may with goodnesse goe:
But cannot thinke that he our death conspires.
Perchance he seekes to doe your brother Right,
Which makes our owne desires to doe vs spite.

Hala.
Mischiefe that may be help'd, is hard to know;
And danger going on still multiplies.

Caine.
Let care as fast then adde vnto her eyes.

Hala.
Where harme hath many wings, care armes too late:

Caine.
Hastie attempts make chance precipitate.
What shall I doe?

Hal.
Goe forward in thy feare:
Danger doth giue thee choice to doe, or beare.

Caine.
My loue of him, and truth, doe make me loth
To thinke them wrong'd: And shall I wrong them both?

Hala.
The good beleefe of mankinde is a sea
Where honor drownes, iniquitie goes free;
Whose thoughts (like sailes) for euery weather be.

Caine.
With shaking thoughts no hands can draw aright:
True hearts, to doe vnnobly, haue no sp'rit.

Hala.

Caine.
More easie motions gentle hearts receiue:
His fault was great; yet you may haue redresse
In State, and honor, without such excesse.

Hala.
Excesse the reason is, and meane of loue;
And in the same excesse is malice ioy'd:
I would be safe, and yet haue him destroy'd.

Caine.
If leaue, or left the fate of kindnesse be,
By his example, what becomes of me?

Hala.
If blinde to all, but to it selfe, be loue;
Whence doe your vowes, or whence this question moue?
Since the true state of true affection is
Wonder, at others worth; Faith, without hire;
Vnwearied Paine; vnrecompens'd Desire.

Caine.
Great hearts thus giuen away, in prison are;
Their strength, their bands; and good beleefe, their smart:
Loue neuer seuers reason from the heart.

Hala.

Caine.
Distract I am: my reason (like a cloud,
Before a winters storme) rides here, and there:
Like reedes, my thoughts are straight and crooked too;
With diuers breaths, which diuers passions blow.
Against the streame of truth must loue still goe?
Resolv'd I am that Mahomet shall die.

Hala.
Shame spake this word: danger appeares not yet;
Time, like a med'cine, will asswage this paine,
And feare perchance bring backe good will againe.

Caine.
It is not I that liue in me, but you;
Whose will hath fashion'd all my thoughts anew.

Hala.
Then on: When thoughts vnite all care is ceas'd;
The heart, vnfetter'd and the hope increas'd.
Out of his death I see occasion borne,
To greater power than needs to couer scorne.
For he the Iustice rules, you rule the Warre;
His death diuided powers will vnite:
And in a broken course where dangers be,
Only the Crowne can put off miserie.

Caine.
Farre be it off, our hopes should be so vaine.
Our secret loue already tempteth God,
To warre him more with infidelity,
Would hasten vengeance, and make sharpe his rod.

Hala.
God made strict lawes for vertues exercise,
An idle word, a wish transgresseth them:
Yet in a Throne remorse hath glorious eyes.
Alaham doth vndermine the present State:
When he corrupted hath the peoples faith,
Thou hast the sword: authority makes way,
Her hand is next when Crownes become a prey.

Caine.
We God and man will first trie with the death
Of Mahomet: If that doe passe for good,
Hope easily makes occasion vnderstood.

Hala.
The end agree'd, the meane is yet in doubt.

Caine.
By sword.

Hala.
That will be easie to descrie;
Danger to misse; and hard to doe without.

Caine.
By poyson then; wherof though doubts may grow,
What one alone may doe, is hard to know.

Hala.
It often failes: For instruments are base;
Slaues haue too slauish hearts; a Basshas name
Is like a superstitious hallowed place.
Men must be forc'd, or wise that force the same.

Caine.
By these two hands, that will not faile their heart,
It shall be wrought.
If poyson misse, the sword shall compasse it:
When chances often scape, at last they hit.

Hala.
Fortune, and Loue! Both Gods of humane might,
You like aduenture, see it rightly plac'd:
You liue in kindnesse, see it not disgrac'd.

Exit.
Caine.
What I haue vow'd, both God, and Nature hate;
My heart misgiues; my soule doth prophecie,
That euill thoughts procure an euill fate.
But ah! my loue I gaue, and it gaue me.
The choice is past: Thoughts now must thinke to doe
Not what I freely am, but forc'd vnto.

Scena quarta.

Mahomet; Caine.
Mahomet.

Caine.
In care they liue that must for many care;
And such the best, and greatest euer are.

Mah.
They purchase care vnto themselues, that know
The weight of care; and yet will it imbrace.
If care be grieuous, why vsurpe you so?

Caine.
I liue but to obey the Princes will.

Mahomet.
That is, to cherish Prince in their ill:
For they must flatter good, and euill too,
That vnder Princes all alone will doe.

Caine.
As sweetest vapors couet to the skie:
So faith, and dutie after Princes runne;
Ill nature neuer can indure a Sunne.

Mahomet.
Flatterie so like in all to dutie showes,
But finelier drest in diligence, and care,
As Kings best plea'sd, that most deceiued, are.

Caine.
Harsh spirit hates them, that do not hate with it,
Miscensures all the world to seeme seuere;
Bindes honestie and truth to haue no wit;
These ill-fac'd vertues not of nature be,
But peeuishnesse, true honors enemie.

Mahomet.

Caine.
Is fame to censure vs that liue aboue,
And must sell iustice, if we purchase loue?

Mahomet.
Fame is the peoples voyce, to tell their griefe,
Appealing from inferiors to the chiefe.
If falsely you, and Hala, fame abuse;
Infamie for nothing men vnwisely chuse:
If fame speake truth, which you would not haue knowne,
Grieue to deserue, but not to beare your owne.

Caine.
What doe I, that the world can well reproue?

Mahomet.
Vniustly suffer, or vniustly loue.

Caine.
Suffer I doe; for infamie is there,
Where either malice, enuie is, or feare.
Loue I confesse I doe; And what is it,
But natures taxe, layd vpon good intent,
For right, and honor vnto excellent?

Mahomet.

Caine.
Let this beare witnesse: No false prophets know,
The time, or manner of their ouerthrow.

Mahomet.

Caine.
What vgly musicke inward discords make?
Thoughts layd asleepe of long doe now appeare;
Euen halfe my power coniures me for his sake.
What's this? Me hinkes I feele my shame grow deare.
Hate of my selfe, and desolation breed,
Where ioy, and pleasure I was wont to feed.

Mahomet.
Who lose their euils, lose their owne despaire;
Out of which losse new hopes of honor rise,
To show the world desire with better eyes.

Caine.
What can I hope? My fruit of better wit
Is but to know I fayl'd for lacke of it.
Shame is in that I leaue, and that I doe:
The fault is only mine; and onely I,
A sacrifice vnto you all, will die.

Mahomet.
Fauour thy selfe: Passions are desperate,
And tempt with vncouth woe, as well as ioy.
It euill is that glories to destroy;
Her, and her counsells kill, and I agree;
For she is foe alike to thee, and me.

Caine.
That is destroy my selfe; and I consent:
For all any thoughts to thee were euill bent.

Mahomet.
Caine! credit not those visions of the ill.
Faults are in flesh, as motes be in the Sunne,
Where light doth shew each little thing amisse.
Presumption, and despaire liue opposite,
As times false glasses, wherin frailties see,
Their faults too great, or else too little be.
But iudge the man from whom these motions grow.
Alaham ambitious is, light, violent;
His end but to surprise his fathers state:
Vnto which end, no lets there are but we;
Who wonne, remou'd, or ruined must be.
He first tried me with riuall iealousie,
Shewing me hope, and honour in the start:
Besides reuenge, by thy death offering me,
Of our diuided powers an vnitie.
But I stood firme. While he no whit dismay'd,
Tempts thee more strongly, whom he hateth more;
Resolu'd who euer kills, shall killed be:
So much the faithlesse ioy in cruelty.

Caine.
“Mischiefe o'reflowes my thoughts; & like a sea,
“Deuoures the dewes, the raine, the snow, the springs,
“And all their sweetnesse to his saltnesse brings.
How should I ground a faith, that faithlesse know
My selfe to be? Or why should he mistrust,
On whom the worst that can befall is iust?

Mahomet.
Who liue distrusting, yet haue time to friend;
But who mistrusting die, make haste to goe
To that infernall Monarchie of feare,
Where worse things come to passe, than doubted were.

Caine.
Mahomet! Thou hast o'recome: I yeeld, by thee
To hold my life, as sentence of my fall;
Thy worths example, no life naturall.
Yet grant me thus-much more; to keepe thee close,
Till I thy death to Alaham impart;
Conceit it selfe doth ease a broken heart.

Mahomet.
Grant me againe, while secretly I liue,
You guard your selfe from Alahams treacherie;
Lest you haue harme; he, ioy; I, infamie.

Exit.
Caine.
Behold my state! bound to my enemies;
Of friends in doubt. To me euen good, and ill,
The one despayre, the other cowardize.
Hala I loue: O word beyond the right,
On which is built that false thought, Libertie,
Which makes great hearts in greatest ills delight.
I sought her loue through all the arts of lust;
Where will, is faith; and honour, Tyrannie;
Mischiefe, affections proofe; and shame, her trust.
Hard, backe from ill, the way to goodnesse is,
By scorne, remorse, patience, and broken heart,
Impossible to them that doe amisse.
Then on: walke in this path of death, or shame;
Alaham is false, or Mahomet, or I;
Resolu'd I am, that one of vs shall die.

CHORVS SECVNDVS, Of Furie:
Malice. Crafte. Pride. Corrupt reason. Euill Spirit.
Malice.
Whence growes this fatall stay of our progression?
Who haue no friends are deafe to intercession?
What can withstand our power? Our ends are euill;
And so need feare no let from any Diuell.

Craft.
We diuerse are in works, though not in ends;
And thereby euery Furie findes some friends.
Besides, we ouer-act, and therein foyle
The ruine of Mankinde, wherein we toyle.

Malice.
Giue me one instance: wherein doe we fayle?

Craft.
In that we mankind vnto fame entayle.

Malice.
That breakes Religions bounds, and makes him ours,
By forming his God out of his owne powers:
For if by Conscience he did leaue, or take;
On that smooth face we could no wrinckle make.

Craft.
Yet fame keepes outward order, and supports:
For shame and honour are strong humane forts.
Whereas Confusion is an engine fit
For vs, at once to swallow man with it.

Malice.
Nay Craft! it is thy faint hypocrisie,
That mankinde is so long protected by.
Thy often changes many times appease
Those Furies, which would else destroy at ease.

Craft.
Fye Malice! It is you that vs deceiue,
Who but with violence only can bereaue.
For which you finde not many natures fit,
And so adde little to our Throne by it.
Where I passe thorough all the orbes of vice,
And forme in each mould Natures preiudice.
The Christian Church from me is not exempt;
Lawes haue by me both honour and contempt;
By me the Warre vpholds her reputation;
And lust, which leaues no certaine generation;
Enuy, that hates all difference of degree;
And selfe-loue, which hath no affinity;
Euen you, without me, cannot prosper well:
I am the mould, and Maiesty of hell.

Pride.
Craft, peace! thou cuttest euery threed so thin,
As it destroyes thy works ere they beginne.
Thy cobwebs, like th'Astrologers thinne line,
Fit for discourse, for vse are ouer-fine.
Thy state is nothing else but change and feare,
Weeds that no fruit, but fading blossomes beare,
Cloth'd with pied colours of hypocrisie,
Which like to all is, yet can nothing be.
In you no soule findes stayres to rise withall,
Descent to craft, change, feare, being naturall.
When I propound in grosse, you minutes play,
Which is the cause our Tragicke works thus stay.
My wheeles goe on at once, thine restlesse pause;
Of little works, with much adoe, the cause.
You euen in Hala sometimes breed remorse,
At least a doubt that euill hath no force.
Thou makest Caine in vndertaking slow,
Who must, to serue thy turne, like goodnesse show:
Those Scenes still tedious are, those Acts too long,
Where thy vnresolute Images be strong.
For while you feare your true tormentor, Shame,
I swallow all at once, with honors name.
Then glory not: since where thy links excell,
There we inlarge not, but contract our hell.

Corrupt reason.

Euill Spirits.