University of Virginia Library

Actus primus.

Scena prima.

Scene, a Pavilion Royal.
The Curtain drawn, is represented Cambyses seated on a Throne; attended by Otanes, Darius, Artaban, Prexaspes, Guards, Slaves, and Attendants; with the Princess Mandana, and Ladies.
Cambyses descends from the Throne.
Camb.
The trembling World has shook at my Alarms;
Asia and Africa have felt my Arms.
My glorious Conquests too did farther flye;
I taught th'Egyptian god Mortality:
By me great Apis fell; and now you see
They are compell'd to change their gods for me.
I have done deeds, where Heaven's high pow'r was foyl'd,
Piercing those Rocks where Thunder has been toyl'd.
Now, like our Sun, when there remains no more,
Thither return whence we set out before.

Otan.
Returning thus, Great Sir, you have out-done
All other glories, which your Arms have won.
Inferiour Conquerours their Triumphs get
When they advance, but you, when you retreat.

Dar.
All Worthies now must yield to you alone,
And disappear, as Stars before the Sun.
Thus Cyrus, who all Asia did defeat,
Because so near you, does not seem so great.

Prex.
Cambyses, no: Your Honour there must yield:
Your Father Cyrus's fame has yours excell'd.
Since in one Act he did all yours out-do,
In leaving such a glorious Son as you.

Camb.
Though th'utmost bounds of Earths large frame's my right,
Where e're the Tributary Sun pays light;
Though the whole World has my great Triumph bin,
Yet still I have a Conquest left to win;
Mandana's heart—Mandana, cease to mourn;
Your tears do those fair eyes but ill adorn.

Mand.
These eyes, thus deckt in tears, become her fate
That wears e'm.

Camb.
No; you must your griefs abate.
Tears have, like Tides, their Ebbs: And each kind flow'r,
After a sullen Cloud, and stormy show'r,
Looks fresh, and smiles at the next Sun.

Mand.
—That Sun
Will never see my Father in his Throne;
That Sun that saw you Triumph in his blood,
That saw you (who on Ægypt's ruines stood)
Deface our Temples, and their Pow'rs defie,
That lent me Chains, and gave you Victory.
As if you to such want of Foes were driv'n,
When th'Earth you'd Conquer'd, to wage War with Heav'n.

Camb.
Their pow'rs that made my greatness so sublime,
Have made my Glory and success my Crime.
Forgive me that my Conquest was my fault,
And what th'Impartial chance of War hath wrought.
Forget his Death, and I'le your fate retrive,
Your King and Father both in me shall live.

Mand.
You vainly your untimely favours place;
Thus treacherous Serpents wound those they embrace.
A sudden trembling shoots through all my veins,
And in my breast his murder'd Image Reigns.
Such horror does my haunted soul affright,
That I must flye his cruel Murd'rers sight.
You, by instinct, who did his death design,
Assaulting of his blood, laid siege to mine.

[Exit Mand. and Ladies.
Camb.
Ye subtle Pow'rs, that humane passions rule,
That take your private walks within my soul;
Whence is your Title, that this pow'r you have
Thus to degrade a Monarch to a Slave?
And yet such charms from those bright Circles flow,
That I must thank her eyes that made me so.

Prex.
A sudden sound of Trumpets strikes my ear

[Trumpets heard from within.
Artab.
It seems the Voyce of some new Triumph near.

Camb.
Some Herauld, or Embassador, or some
Poor petty Prince, that does a supplyant come
To beg his Crown. Darius, straight inquire
From whence they come; and what 'tis they desire.
Give e'm such Entertainment as may shew
Cambyses is their King, and Conquerour too.
[Exit Dar.
What shouts are these? Ha! louder yet! Go forth,
[Shouts from within.
And tell e'm that I will allay their mirth.
[Exit Otanes.
Is't my good nature makes the slaves grow proud,
To dare to be thus Insolent, and loud?
Loud, and ungovern'd mirth, rash Acts performs,
Kind gales, grown turbulent, and high, are Storms.

Enter Darius, in haste.
Dar.
A Cloud of People does your Camp surround;
And their Triumphant cryes eccho this sound,
Long live King Smerdis.

Camb.
Ha! What's this I hear?

Prex.
What may provoke your Sword, but not your fear.

Enter Otanes, in haste.
Otan.
The Tumult's loud: Their guilty Joyes do shew
They pay to Smerdis what to you they owe.

Camb.
Does Smerdis then Usurp my Throne? My Lords,
We shall not want new Subjects for our Swords:
Though the rash Boy's ambition does not know
What dangerous height his pride has rais'd him to
Yet I will make him know from whence he falls:
Advance my Standard then to Susa's Walls:
And the next Morning our bright Sun shall rise,
Ador'd with blood, and Humane sacrifice.
[Exeunt Omnes, præter Camb. and Prex.
Does Smerdis live still, a reproach to be,
Both to my power, and thy fidelity?
Subjects the breath of Monarchs should attend,
Obeying that on which their lives depend.
The wills of Princess who then dares dispute,
Whose Precepts, as their Crowns, are absolute?

Prex.
If Smerdis, Sir, does any Scepter sway,
Neptune has lent him that which rules the Sea;
For there he lyes secure: there, where each Wave
May proudly pass Triumphant o're his Grave.

Camb.
How then, Sir, are the dead so pow'rful grown,
To make a Resurrection to my Throne?

Prex.
You know I'm Loyal, and may trust he's dead.

Camb.
Thou lyest, Slave; one word more forfeits your Head,
How dare you tell me that he's dead, when I
Think it kind fortunes greatest courtesie,
That he still lives; and lives to wear my Crown?
For since the Conquer'd World's already won,
Thanks, ye kind Fates, that raise new Foes, t'afford
Fresh subjects still for my Victorious sword.
Though Smerdis live t'out-brave his Kings command,
'Tis but to fall by a more noble hand.
And that which does my willing sword invite,
I now shall Conquer in Mandana's sight.
I'le Court her with the glory of my Arms:
Conquest and War, like Beauty, have their Charms.

[Ex.
Prex.
How, not believ'd! Have I so oft, for this,
Obey'd his rage, and bloody Cruelties?
When Rapes and Murders were but common sin;
Such heats of blood have but my pastime bin.
And, in requital, I'm thus far arriv'd,
I find a Tyrants Favourite's short-liv'd.
My Death he threatens; Since he does distrust
My faith and Loyalty, it were but just,
That he should find me false who thinks me so:
Nor am I bred so tame, or born so low,
To be out-brav'd by Kings.

Enter a Messenger, who delivers a Letter to Prex.
Mess.
From Smerdis, Sir, and trust
To find him grateful, as he finds you just.

Prex.
Happy occasion. Now I may pursue
[Aside.
Both my Revenge, and my Ambition too.
[Opens the Letter.
Go tell your King, I must not stop my ears,
When Monarchs thus are my Petitioners.
[Exit Mess.
Assist him!—
[Pausing upon the Letter.

[Exit.

Scena Secunda.

The Scene continues:
Enter Mandana, sola.
Mand.
And will the angry gods for ever frown?
Have I not lost a Father, and a Crown?
But that which most Heaven's cruelty does shew,
Who shares my heart does share my fortune too.
The hand of War more cruel wounds ne're gave;
Osiris too is the proud Tyrant's Slave.
Could Providence this unjust deed design,
Osiris should wear any Chains—but mine?
[She Weeps.
Our Fate the malice of our Stars does prove;
If there be any Stars that envy Love.

Enter to her, Osiris.
Osir.
Do you remember those strict Vows you made,
And those soft Charms in whispers you convey'd,
When I, and Egypt both, did happy prove,
They in their King, I in Mandana's Love?

Mand.
I do, Osiris; And remember too,
I alwayes paid my promises to you.

Osir.
Your Constancy confirms that happiness
Which your high favour did at first confer:
But souls so much divine can do no less,
As gods are constant, 'cause they cannot erre.
This day, I hope, our Mutual Loves shall crown.

Mand.
Yes, Sir, it shall, if Heaven will give us leave.

Osir.
When you, Mandana, smile, Heaven cannot frown.

Mand.
No, unkind fate does your fond hopes deceive.
You know, Osiris, that I made this Vow,
That, with my Love, I would my Crown bestow.
And from her Vow Mandana will not start:
I'le give an Empire, when I give a heart.
But since my Captive fate my Crown has lost,
Your hopes and mine thus equally are crost.
To give you less, would seem too low a thing,
My heart alone's too mean an Offering.

Osir.
In this decree you do too cruel prove,
To think that Fortune can give Laws to Love.
And to your Beauty you're injurious grown;
You cannot borrow lustre from a Crown.
No, he who in Mandana's Breast does Reign,
Is taught all meaner Empires to disdain.

Mand.
Osiris, no, your too fond zeal mistakes,
Love will admit no Slaves—but what it makes.
Love by our miseries would sullied be,
Eclips'd, and Clouded in Captivity.
Our Fate the Crowning of our Love controuls.

Osir.
We have but Captives fortunes, not their souls.
Their souls to th'highest pitch of greatness rise,
That can the empty frowns of Fate despise.
In our dark fortune Love will shine more bright:
As Diamonds borrow lustre from the night.

Mand.
No, no, you must your hopeless Love forgo.
You must, Osiris,—Love will have it so.

Osir.
And can you give what I shall ne're enjoy?
Can Love a Lovers happiness destroy?

Mand.
If e're my Stars my ravisht Crown restore
[She Sighs.
Till then, expect that I can give no more.

Osir.
You are too cruel.

Mand.
No, I am too kind.
This resolution in my breast is sign'd.—
I do command you, urge no more.

Proffers to go out, at which Osiris offers to speak.
Osir.
You may
Command my Death, you know I must obey.

Mand.
No, my Osiris, live, and live to be
More happy, then you can be made by me.
Yet from your Breast,
Let not Mandana be so far remov'd,
But still you may remember—that we Lov'd.

[Exit.
Osir.
Oh, my hard fate!
She does deny me Love, yet bids me live:
Yet 'tis her kindness does this sentence give.
How strangely is my Happiness destroy'd?
Her too much Love Love's ruine has decreed:
As Lamps, that surfeit when they're overcloy'd,
Do perish by that Oyl on which they feed.

[Exit.

Scena tertia.

The Scene, a Palace.
Enter Smerdis, and Patasithes, with Guards and Attendants.
Pat.
'Twas by Heaven's pleasure, and our wills decreed,
To place the Crown of Persia on your head.
Let dull successive Monarchs idly wait
To be enthron'd by the slow hand of Fate.
And Phœnix-like, expect their rise, and power,
Onely from th'ashes of an Ancestour.
You by a Nobler force have Empire gain'd,
Wresting the Scepter from Cambyses hand.
Thus on his ruine you his Throne ascend,
And make the means as glorious, as the end.

Smerd.
The Fate of Crowns depends on common chance,
Fortune and pow'r may to a Throne advance.
But to confirm that Crown our pow'r affords,
Requires our souls more active than our Swords.

Pat.
You must yet Act unseen, and veile your pow'r,
Untill your Thunder's in your hand secure.
Till then, Sir, you your Majesty must shrowd,
Like Lightning, taking birth first from a Cloud.
Till you like that, a full-blown glory wear,
And gain at once, both reverence and fear.

Enter Theramnes.
Ther.
Your Subjects joys grow loud, as is your fame;
Persia speaks nothing now, but Smerdis name.
And their excessive joys so high advance,
Their Piety's joyn'd with their Allegiance;
Rendring that Homage, which to Heaven is due,
Adoring less the rising Sun, than you.

Smerd.
'Tis this must make my Sov'reignty compleat;
Those joys that speak them Loyal, speak me great.

Ther.
You Conq'rours have out-done: your name affords
The subject of more Trophies, then their swords.
Great Cyrus glories must submit to you;
He Conquer'd Nations, you their hearts subdue.

Smerd.
This is but half a Conquest; who defends
A Crown, conquers his Foes, as well as Friends.
And now our cause for speedy action calls;
Cambyses is in sight of Susa's Walls.
Go then, Theramnes, muster all our Force;
Our Syrian Infantry, and Persian Horse.
Prepare such strength, that it may be exprest
That we can conquer, if he dare resist.

Ther.
I do not Conquest doubt: whilst Monarchs are
Themselves above plac'd in a higher sphear;
You, like the Heav'ns, your sacred pow'rs dispense,
You'll give us Conquest by your Influence.

[Exit.
Smerd.
See how the fond deluded World mistakes,
And what false light my borrow'd glory makes:
Yet such as dazles Persia. This disguise
Has rais'd so thick a mist before their eyes;
That my best Friends, Theramnes, and the croud
Of wondring Subjects, all are in one Cloud;
And their mistaken Faiths so far advance;
That they seem Rivals in Allegiance.
Like their Devotion who the gods implore,
Men first believe, and then they do adore.

Pat.
Thus Kings and Beauty in this Title share,
'Tis the adorers eye makes Beauty fair.
The Persians thus by their Allegiance show,
You're the true Prince, if they but think you so.

Smerd.
I by such Arts do the Worlds Empire sway,
As the Worlds frame does Natures Laws obey;
Mov'd by a Cause admir'd, but never known.
Secrets of State and Heav'n agree in One.
Thus I, and thus the gods themselves disguise
Their high'st designs in darkest Mysteries.

[Exeunt.

Scena quarta.

The Scene continues:
Enter Phedima, and Orinda.
Orind.
Love in my breast should with slow progress move,
Were there no other interest in Love.

Phed.
Why, what more can there be?

Orind.
—Yes, I would have
My Beauties Captive be my Honours slave.
Brave Conq'rours scorn the prize they win, whilst they
Aim onely at the fame of Victory.
But your too humble Love takes a low flight,
When you thus dote upon a Favourite:
Can your Darius—

Phed.
—Can Darius seem
Unworthy then of Phedima's esteem?
'Twere Impious to wish my passion less:
His merits, not my Love, have their excess.

Orind.
Love, like a pleasant Dream, disturb'd or crost,
The fancy wakes, and then the pleasure's lost.
My presence then will but injurious prove,
[Scornfully.
Silence and privacy are fit—for Love.

[Exit.
Phed.
And can she be so cruel, to reprove
Her heart which to Darius does incline?
Whom all the World can do less than Love,
At least, if I may judge all hearts by mine.

Enter Smerdis, who having a while gaz'd upon her, advances to her; she seeing him, draws her Veile over her Face.
Smerd.
Madam, too late you do my sight deprive,
What's in a moment born, an Age may live.
This makes you think (that since your pow'r is such)
Where an assault has won, a siege too much.
Having th'assurance of your Conquest found,
You hide the Weapon now you've given the wound.

Enter Patasithes, unseen.
Pat.
Ha! this strange language does mysterious sound;
It is a Riddle which I can't expound.

Smerd.
Yet you must pity those chaste flames you raise,
The gods themselves smile on their Votaries.
And yet the Heav'ns, when they vouchsafe to smile,
Suffer no Clouds to interpose the while.
But your injurious Veile permits no glance
Should my fond hopes with the least glimpse advance.

Phed.
Stranger, what means this language, and how dares
Your ill-bred confidence assault my ears?
This boldness merits more than my disdain
And frowns can punish.

Smerd.
—Yet your self restrain
The Pow'r of both, whilst you thus Veil'd, confute
That punishment your frowns should execute.
The fiercest Lightning never wounds, when thus
A Veile of Clouds is drawn 'twixt that and us.

[Unveiles her.
Phed.
A Persian Ladies honour is profan'd,
Who bears this usage from an unknown hand.
What frenzy has possest your soul?

Smerd.
—Your eyes
Do ill to make my heart their sacrifice;
And then condemn him who does offer it.

Phed.
My scorn's too little, where th'affronts so great.

[Proffers to go.
Smerd.
Hold, cruel fair, and your just anger stay,
With such repentance I'le my fault repay:
That I will shew my Love is so sublime,
That it can expiate a Lovers Crime.—

Pat.
(aside).
Ha! how does his distracted fancy rove,
Prefer'd to Empire, to submit to Love!

Smerd.
—I prest too far, I must confess, yet though
Your coyness threatned, it invited too.
Thus curious, we int'angry Comets pry,
Which but, at best, threaten ill destiny:
When our inquiry does not reach so far,
To know the aspect of a milder Star.

Pat.
Th'Infection spreads. No longer I endure
To see that which I must prevent, or cure.
Love, like the stars that rule't, should active move,
You are too idle, Sir, to be in Love.
[To Smerd.
Come, Sir, she's yours.

Phed.
Ye gods!

Smerd.
—Hold, Sir, you wrong—

Pat.
I only tell you, that you talk too long.
Lovers should not such tedious treaties hold,
Love is a thing that's sooner done, than told.
But you mistake; Love takes a Nobler course,
Conquests are not by parley won, but force.
Here, take her then.

[Thrusts her rudely to Smerd.
Phed.
Defend me, Heavens.

Smerd.
—Rash Man,
Hold your rude hands; you all that's good profane.

Phed.
Audacious—
[To Pat.
—Oh, I understand you now:
[To Smerd.
Have you Confed'rates and Assistants too?
How dares your salvage fury grow so rude,
To force that Virtue which you can't delude?

Smerd.
Dispell your fears, your Virtue is secure,
Since your protection is in your own pow'r:
Thus doubly guarded, by the pow'rs of Heav'n,
And by those pow'rs Heav'n to your charms has giv'n.

Phed.
No, Ravishers; no more this language use,
The success failing, you the guilt excuse.
Your sting-less fury wants the pow'r to hurt,
You know you are within the Persian Court:
Your Violence chose an improper stage:
This sanctuary guards me from your rage.

[Exit.
Pat.
See with what courage she her cause protects;
You but the King, but she the Tyrant Acts.
But she derives her pow'r from your tame fears:
She knows that Lovers dare not give offence:
Thus fear makes gods; who deify'd the stars,
But onely those who fear'd their Influence?
If you then Lov'd, why did you not enjoy?
Can a Kings Modesty his hopes destroy?

Smerd.
Such base and unjust deeds would but proclaim
Me an Impostor greater than I am.

Pat.
'Tis Kings make Justice, and not Justice Kings,
And in that name you may Act greater things,
And still be just. The Persian King's design
No Woman more than for a Concubine.
And in that onely name she should not have
The Courtship of a Mistress, but a Slave.
You then should force her whom you could not move.

Smerd.
Force may support my Empire, not my Love.
Beauty, like Majesty, is sacred too:
And must it then be thus profan'd by you?

Pat.
Your thoughts and passions are too humble grown,
You do forget you're seated on a Throne.

[Exit.
Smerd.
Can Patasithes so inhumane prove?
He gave me Empire, but destroys my Love.
This is that Phedima I've seen before;
What I then but admir'd, I now adore.
My privacy my passion then confin'd;
A flame too noble for so low a mind.
Now nothing my Love's freedom can controul;
My Empire's limits do enlarge my soul.

[Exit.

Scena quinta.

Scene continues:
Enter Theramnes, and Phedima.
Phed.
Their rudeness was so great—

Ther.
—And do they live?
Not you nor Heav'n can this offence forgive.
Against you there can be no venial Crimes:
Your anger ought to kill where it condemns.
And I'le be th'Executioner. But teach
Me where I may those rude offenders reach:
And I will force their guilty blood to more
Than blush for their bold Crime.

Phed.
—That cannot be;
For they are men I never saw before,
Strangers alike to Honour, and to me.

Ther.
Do but describe e'm then, and you shall see,
To find e'm my revenge shall, in your name,
Quick-ey'd as Envy be, and swift as Fame.

Phed.
By all I can describe I understood,
Their Virtues are inferiour to their blood.
By th'Habit which they wore they seem'd to be
Some of the Persian chief Nobility.

Ther.
My Int'rest in the Persian Court shall shew
How much my zeal in your just cause can do:
To find those Ravishers such search I'le make,
That in their very eyes their guilt I'le track:
I on my honour vow I'le use such Arts,
Who e're they are, to reach their guilty Hearts.

[Exit.
Phed.
Theramnes, stay—Alas, he's gon too far.
How fierce and swift the wings of Honour are!
I fear that he will some rash Act perform,
Hurried like waves that swell into a storm.
And yet his zeal I cannot but approve:
Friendship a second Rival is to Love.