 | The Amorovs Warre |  |
6
SCÆNA III.
To them Eurymedon, disguis'd like an Embassadour, Clytus, Hyppocles.Archid:
We are now prepar'd to heare your Embassy;
Your Prince's pleasure?
Clyt:
By us, Archidamus,
With all the freedome which an injur'd Prince
Can use towards Him that wrong'd Him, He lets you know,
That 'tis no thirst, or covetous Ambition,
T'enlarge his Territories, or to seeke conquest there,
Where 'tis as easie for him to o'rcome
Almost as say so, which hath provok't him
Thus to invade your Kingdome; But a just sense,
And apprehension of the blot, and staine,
Which Annals and posterity (Besides
The scorne oth' present Age) must sticke upon
His sluggish memory, if He coldly should
Sleepe o're his Infamy; or let you breake
The Lawes of Hospitality; and abuse
His Court, in carrying away a prize
More deare to him then his Kingdome, unrevenged.
For though you may pretend Love for your boldnesse,
Or say the Princesse was an Actor in
Her Amorous stealth, (which yet Hee much suspects,
And she must blush t'acknwoledge) He saies, Herein
You doe but guild your Crime; For what you call
Affection Hee cals Rape; And saies, Hee hopes,
You'l pardon Him, if Hee doe looke upon You,
Not as a Guest, but Robber; One that came not
To fetch a Queene, but to transport a prey.
Archid:
Is this all?
Eurym:
He addes farther, that though Hee
Confesse Himselfe inferiour to the loud
Fame of your Sisters Beauty; To which nought
Can be a Match but her owne vertues; yet,
When Hee lookes on the Story of his Ancestours,
From which Hee thinkes Hee hath not yet degenerated;
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He's borne to a Kingdome, to which yours hath beene
(Be't spoke without contempt) a Tributary;
But chiefly, when he searcheth his owne mind,
And findes nought Hostile there; but a pure fire,
Kindled from the report of the admir'd,
Inflaming, rayes, diffus'd from her bright eyes,
He thinkes you trespasse against love, Sir, to
Obey an angry, conquer'd, old mans Will,
Made in the passion of his Overthrow,
Although your Father, and to refuse a suite
More noble, and open, then your owne; And whil'st
Y'are pious, shew your selfe revengefull too.
Hippoc:
Briefly Sir, therefore whither it were force,
Or Combination, (For which to call it
He saies he knowes not) unlesse you will restore
His Sister, or repaire him with your owne,
He saies, he is resolv'd, either to fall
A willing sacrifice to his wrong'd Honour,
Or build his unglad satisfaction on
The Ruines of your Country. And to this
He doth require your Answer.
Archid:
Were Roxane
A Hellen, (as she's not in ought I know
But her great Beauty) Or were I a Paris;
(Who finde my selfe none but ith' numerous fleet
Brought after me) Had I beene entertain'd
A Prince, by a Prince, Sir, at your Masters Court,
And, in his absence, had first loosely tempted
To my unlawfull bed, then stolne his Wife;
I do confesse 'twere just for him to cite
The breach of Hospitality, and t'invoke
The Gods of Weddings, and Marriages against me.
And I, till I restor'd th'unlawfull prey,
Should looke upon my selfe, not as a Guest,
But Ravisher. But if I came a Suitor,
And brought a flame as pure, as holy, as
That which burnes on his Altars; If the Princesse,
Her owne free Empresse did vouchsafe to meet
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If I have since preserv'd her honour; kept
Her white, and spotlesse as a Vestall; still
Approach't her presence with the same religion
As I would places consecrate, or Temples,
Whil'st thus Hee doe's pursue my harmelesse Love,
With Words farre more injurious then his Armies,
With the like freedome You may tell Him, I'me
The injur'd Prince. And though I grant his Father
Once conquer'd mine, and wee paid Tribute, (which
Hee does not nobly to upbrayd) It may be
My turne to conquer next. Nor is the Bay
Planted so firmely on his head, but that
A good cause may remove it, and mak't mine.
As for our close departure from his Court,
Which he brands with the stile of Rape and Theft,
You must assist me, Madam; was I your pyrate,
Or Servant? Did I lead you away Captive,
Or conspire with you?
Rox:
Sir, 'twere one wrong more
Offer'd to your Vertues, And I should transgresse
Against my cleare Affections, not to say,
The Plot was halfe mine, you did reveal your thoughts,
With so much generous heate, so worthy of mee,
That I had noe way left t'expresse my selfe
As generous too, but to mixflame with flam;
And to requite you with this poore returne,
To make your Country mine; And there to thinke
My selfe a Princesse onely, where I might
Call you my Prince.
Arch:
Then, for my Sister,
I am no Tyrant like your Master, Sir,
To claime a sway o're her Affections; Nor
Doe count her Will ith' number of my Subjects:
She has free Liberty to make her choice;
And can best answer you. Onely shee will,
I hope remember, if there be a reverence
Due to the words of dying Parents; Or if
The last, short, breath were sacred, which bequeath'd her
To th'Prince of Thessaly, she can't consent
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Her Fathers Shade, to call him from his Urne,
To be a greiv'd Spectatour of her Nuptials.
Barsen.
Besides Sir, as a stranger to a stranger,
Pray beare a Princesse message to your Prince.
Tell Him He comes not nobly, thus t'invade
Her whom he loves; or strive to make Her His
By a forc't Conquest. He's the first I've read of
Who Woo'd a Lady with an Army by;
Or put a ponyard to his Mistrisse breast,
And then desir'd t'appeare gratious.
Wee looke for softer Courtships; Humble prayers;
Sighes which confesse the Breather is our Captive.
I have no Beauty to entice him to
Lay downe his forces. But if he come unarm'd,
In Person, (For I doe not like State Love,
Or to be woo'd by an Embassadour,)
If He bring with Him noble purposes,
Such as my Brothers were, tell him, perhaps,
I shall as nobly heare him. Meane time, his Sister,
And I expect some penance from him, for
Thus Troubling of our Peace.
Eur:
Doe you enjoyne
The Chaine, or Fetters, 'twil be his glory Madam,
To weare them as your prisoner,
Exeunt Eurym. Clit. Hyp.
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