University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

The Curtain being drawn, an Alarm of Drums and Trumpets are heard, the Scene representing a Turret, besieged by Moaron, Psamnis, and Syrians; Zelmura, Phillopater, Zichmi, and Egyptians, appearing on the Walls defending, a skirmish of Darts, which done the Scene changes to Melechadels Pallace.
Enter Melechadel, Ptolomy, and Achmades.
Meh.
Perish the World e're I forsake my Throne,
Or leave that City, which my Birth did own;
The Sun shall freeze, and Nights pale Goddess burn,
The Solid Globe to its first Chaos turn,
E're Melechadel fears: Draw up our Moors,
By Heaven I'l dare the utmost of their pow'rs,
Kings are like Gods, when dauntless they appear,
But worse than Peasants, if their Fate they fear.

Achm.
Great Apis Priests foretel our overthrow,
And Death comes wing'd like light'ning from the Foe.
I speak, Great Sir, not as I fear to die,
For death's a bliss in wars extreamity.
My loyal care mean doubts do far exceed,
Ill fare true Subjects hearts, when Princes bleed.

Ptollo.
Famine ith' City now 'gins to prevail,
And from without Destruction storms like hail;
The tired Souldier, with weak glowing eyes,
Looks down upon the Foe, then falls, and dies;
As if like Basilisks they gave us death,
Not with their dreadful weapons, but their breath.
What can we hope for, where such horrour is!

Melech.
Think on my Conquests past, then hope for this,
The Gods that made me Monarch, did create
My Kingly Soul to have a Kingly fate.
Have I not conquer'd the insulting Moors,
Baffled the Indian and Tartarian Pow'rs,
When with my Troops I Legions have withstood
Of Daring Souldiers: whose warm Seas of Blood
O'reflow'd the Plains with Waves of crimson dye,
And fogs obscur'd the surface of the sky!
Have I not often with the Morning dawn,
Mounted my Chariot by fam'd Princes drawn
Through Memphis, whilst amazements charm'd the throng
To see my glorious Triumph pass along!
And shall we now our fortune fear to try,
He deserves Conquest best, who best dares die.
Bring up our Infantry to the assault,
And see 'em straight conveyed through the dark vault
Under our Palace: Fly Achmades, flie,
Fate points us out this way to Victory,
Embrace occasion e're it be too late,
We'l snatch our Conquest from the Gripes of Fate.
How now, What news.

[Exit Achmates.
Enter Zichmi
Zichm.
The Fence grows thin, my Liege,
And the remainder hardly brook the siege,
Such numbers with their dreadful darts are kill'd,
The Trenches with their liveless Trunks are fill'd,
And those that yet remain, serve but to shew
Omens of conquest to the daring Foe.

Melech.
These fatal objects us more Courage teach,
Ptolomy, bring your Squadron to the breach,
Supply the Walls with Engines fit for spoile,
And on their heads pour Seas of flaming Oyl:
But I forget my Souls far better half,
How fares the Queen, is my Zelmura safe;
Are the Gods kind, and still here death defer.

Zich.
She lives; and all our hopes depend on her:
Upon the Eastern Turret of the Town
From whose high Battlements I saw drop down
Numbers of men, the Queen did dauntless stand,
Terrour coucht in her eye, death in her hand:
The Heartless Crowd, wondring, look up to spy
This new Bellona usher'd from the Sky,
And on their unarm'd fates took the harms,
Which from the valiant Queen fell down in Storms,
By her Example your faint pow'rs turn'd head,
And feeling now that courage which she bred,
Sent such a fierce greeting to the Enemy,
As forc't 'em to treat, almost to fly:
But to their Rescue then, the Syrian Prince,
Their Nations Glory and unmacht defence,
The brave Moaron, best of Generals,
Came like Achilles to the Turret Walls;
Him, when the Queen had found, and envying now
The budding wreaths on his Triumphant brow,
With noble force dismist a dreadful dart
Well aim'd and level'd at the Princes heart,
But his propitious fate the shaft Reverst,
Whose point his fomy Courser's vitals pierc't,
The beast expiring with a grone shrunk down,
And with the Prince fell side long to the ground,
Who straight arising, fir'd with raging Spleen,
Though to revenge, but when he saw the Queen
Like Pallace stand, and knew that it was She
His rage soon quell'd, he bowed his head and knee
As if he thankt her for the Courtesie.

Melech.
His Soul was always noble, but proceed.

Zichm.
After this Act, with more then usual speed,
The fight began a fresh, and lifes dread foe
Plac't a defiance flag on e'ry brow;
The General was hurt in this last charge,
But was by the fierce Queen reveng'd at large
By joyntless men which on the reeking ground,
In heaps paid their last tribute to his wound,
What happened afterwards my absence lost.

Melech.
Let other Monarchs of their Subjects boast,
I have a Theam will fill the mouth of fame
His Trump resounding with a womans name:
A Woman whose brave Spirit do's presage
A happy fortune to Our latter Age,
The Noble Carian Queen whose fame flyes far
For aiding Xerxes in the Persian war,
She, whose renown through our East confine Spreds
For Godlike vertues, and heroick deeds,
Would quit her fading claim did She live now,
And place her Lawrel on Zelmura's brow
Enter a Messenger.
Thy cheerful looks some good event portend,
Say, the foes fled and stile thy self our friend.

Messen.
The Queen is sallied at the Postern gate
Meaning to prosecute victorious fate
She on the foe a fresh assault has try'd,
And charg'd their vauntguard on the weakest side,
Who shrink a pace, and now their most defence
Lyes in the Squadron of the valiant Prince;
Like Glitt'ring Mars, he their main Battle heads,
His Faulchion reeking with the blood he sheds,
His noble Soul raging to see them fly,
But all in vain they'l rather run than dye;
So that by our brave Queen and General
The heartless Foe is beaten from the Wall,

Melech.
The Gods are kind and Just and now I see
The love they bear undaunted Majesty,
There can no ill within their Mansions dwell,
But onely this to make our passions swell
Give us brave Souls then teach 'em to rebel

[Shout within
Zichm.
What means this shout that Ecchoes through the Sky
[Exit Zich.

Enter another Messenger.
Messen.
The day is ours, great Sir, the Syrians fly,
The Queen, our Goddess, that our hopes begun
Have broke their closest ranks and made 'em run,
The Syrian Prince like Trojan Hector stood
His Curace spotted with warm drops of blood,
He in our troops once made a doubtful fray
And maugre our resistance forc't his way
Toward Nilus head
But now of thirty thousand only he
And one brave friend oppose our victory.

Melech.
A glorious Conquest and as fortunate
As the brave Macedonian Monarchs fate,
Whose matchless fame by th'Ignorants ador'd
Made the whole World pay homage to his Sword.
By fortune he, but I by pow'r atcheive
A fate that shall new Laws to nature give,
And make my fame in future Ages live

[Exeunt