University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Laodice, Nichomede and Attalus.
Attalus.
Must then the Charms dwell in those Eyes appear
Onely to me, of all the World, severe?
Shall I ne're gain one of those blest regards,
With which you, Madam, use to conquer Hearts?

Laod.
To conquer yours, if these Sir, don't suffice,
When I design't, I'le speak it by my Eyes.

Atta.
Of what's all yours, you can no Conquest make.

Laod.
Then a more pleasing Mein, I need not take.

Atta.
But yet to keep that heart, I must implore.

Laod.
I rather had such ill got Goods restore.

Atta.
It's Value is too poor, your Soul to touch.

Laod.
To juggle Sir, I value you too much,
Our distance of Degree admits it not,
Then for the heart you tell me I have got,
Where should't be kept?

Atta.
Ah Madam, in your Brest,

Laod.
That Place is by another, Sir, possest.
And you so oft hath this great Truth bin told,
That your Address as senseless is as bold.

Atta.
Happy the Man, whom Fortune so does grace,
To give admission to so blest a Place.
But I should think him happier far who might,
Fairly dispute, and gain from him this Right.

Nicho.
E're that be done Rivers with Blood must swell,
This Conquerour Sir, preserves his Conquest well.
Go ask his Foes, 'mongst them 'twill best be known,
What 'tis to gain that Fort he once has won.

Atta.
But there is one who will assault it so,
That he must yield it where he will or no.

Laod.
You may mistake,

Atta.
If the King be the Man.

Laod.
He's just and wise, and wills but what he can.

Atta.
And what cannot his Soveraign Greatness do?

Laod.
Talk not so high, he knows what is my Due.
Though King, he acts as to a Queen with me,
That's not by Force, but by Civility.

Atta.
There's much included in the civil prayer
Of Kings, unto whose power we subject are.
But if a Kings request can take no place,
Yet Rome with hers will my Addresses grace.

Nico.
Rome Sir?

Atta.
Yes Rome, do you her kindness fear?

Nico.
No Sir, but lest some Roman over-hear,
For if Rome knew th'Addresses by you made,
Youl'd gain her Anger, whilst you hope her Aid.
Scorning to see her Nursling own a Flame
Injurous to the lustre of her Name.
That Title which does so much glory wear,
Of Roman Citizen, sheel'd from you tear,
For she too mighty thinks it to bestow
On that poor soul, can to a Queens love bow.
Have you forgot that neither King, nor Queen,
Rome equal to a Burgess do esteem.
If she have form'd in you that generous Mind,
Let her th'imppressions of her Maxims find.
Resume a pride then worthy her and you,
And studying something to your glory due,
Pursue this Ignominious Flame no more,
But ceasing the Armenian Queen to adore.
Seek out a Love more worthy your high place,
That's of some Tribunes or a Pretors Race.
For such a high-born Match Rome thinks you fit,
And lest your Royal Birth exclude you it.
By her Adoption you have put on,
Authority for such Ambition.
Break loose then, Sir, from this reproachful Chain,
And leaving Queens to Kings they so disdain.
For things more vast and high, your thoughts reserve,
And so your greatness, and Romes pride preserve.

Attalus.
If this man, Madam, do to you belong,
Forbid his boldness, or restrain his Tongue,
That I his utmost insolence might hear,
I yet have forc'd my Anger to forbear,
But if he shall continue in this strain,
To smother 't longer, I shall strive in vain.

Nicho.
No matter, Sir, to whom I do belong
Can Reason loose it's value on my tongue?
Set Love apart, and I'le be judg'd by you,
What Glories to this Roman Name are due,
The King and Queen, so high the Title priz'd,
They'l not be pleas'd to see it now despis'd.
Their value of the mighty thing appears
In giving up to it your Infant years.
From four years old 't has rob'd them of your sight,
Can you think now, they will that Glory slight.
Or suffer for the Marriage of a Queen,
You forfeit Honours they so much esteem;
No rather jealous of so rare a Treasure.

Attalus.
Madam, once more I ask, Is it your pleasure,
That insolent man of me, this scorn should make?
Or is 't from you he does his freedom take?

Laod.
Since talking to you as a Roman, he
Offends you Sir, give me the liberty,
To treat you in a way which you may own
With no less Honour, that's a Monarchs Son.
But Sir, in this degree you must allow
You to a Prince your Elder, ought to bow.
That though so near ally'd in blood you be,
It takes not from his difference of degree,
But to his Birth there ought respect be paid,
Yet you, he absent, does his Rights invade.

Atta.
If that Right be the Honour to be yours,
One word from you, that Right for me procures.
And if my Birth does lessen my degree,
'Tis by you, Natures fault repair'd may be;
But if as a Kings Son, I so much owe,
Permit that I speak like a Roman now.
And know there's none born so, but are design'd
To command Monarchs, and be unconfin'd;
Know that my Love's the Project of a Soul,
Contemns Subjection, and disdains Controul;
Know that—

Laod.
I know that in my Crown you finde
More Charms, than in my Person, or my Minde;
But such as I am, both my Crown and Me,
Are vowd that Brothers, who your King must be;
And were He here, his Presence might give end
To all this mighty Passion you pretend.

Attalus.
Might I but see him, he should know from me—

Nicho.
Beware, such Wishes, Sir, may dangerous be;
For if he hear them, you may chance to prove
The Vengeance due on those attempts his Love.

Atta.
Sir, you shall pay me that Respect is due.

Nicho.
I know not who omits it of us two.

Atta.
Whilst thou knowst me, dar'st thou thus boldly prate?

Nicho.
By knowing you Prince, I can set my Rate,
But you being ignorant of my Degree,
Cannot tell what you ought to pay to me.

Atta.
Ah Madam, suffer my just Anger may

Laod.
Yes, yes; but now your Mother comes this way.