 | The tragedy of Mvstapha |  |
Scena. IIII.
Rossa, Rosten, Belyarby Nuntius.Beliar.
Rossa and Rosten while you stand debating,
The ioyes are fortunes of your priuate fortune.
Rossa.
Rosten make haste, goe hence, and carrie with thee
My life, my fame, desire and my fortune.
You vgly Angels of infernall Kingdome,
You spirits resolute to dwell in darknesse,
You who haue vertuously maintain'd your being
In equall power, like riualls to the heauens:
If as they say (who say it for reproch)
You are at hand to those that on you call,
Refusing none but such as doe refuse you,
Reuenge your selues of this false title, vertue:
This vertue which hath sildome beene assailed
By you; but she hath still her seruants failed:
My shame, my feare, my loue I offer to you,
Let me raigne while I liue, in my desires,
Or dead, liue with you in eternall fires.
Rossa, doing not praying merits heauen or hell:
Mischiefes doe rise, and set themselues against thee,
Misfortune hath euen now conspired thy ruine;
Intreat no enemies, for they forgiue not,
But humble thou thy selfe vnto the heauens.
I feare to tell, I tremble to conceale it,
I would, yet would I not, I durst reueale it.
Fortune, vnto the death is then displeased,
When remedies doe ruine her diseased.
Rost.
Vse not these parables of coward feare,
Feare hurts lesse when it strikes, then when it threatens,
If Mustapha shall liue, all feare is fallen,
Danger lighted, desire lost, hope banisht;
If Mustapha shall die, then feare from hope,
Losse from desire, danger and paine are vanisht.
Bel.
If Mustapha shall die, his death miscarries
Part of thy End, thy Fame, thy Friends, thy Ioyes,
No man to hurt his foes, his friends destroyes.
Ross.
Friends? who are they, but those that serue desire?
My Gods, my Friends, my Father and my Mother
Are but those steps, that helpe me to aspire.
Duty and loue tooke knowledge of no other;
Let me and all the world with him be slaine,
I will not wish to be aliue againe.
But tell what is the worst.
Bel.
Aske not in rage, rage brings it selfe to woe.
Vnlesse the wings whereon it flies be slow.
Ross.
I charge you tell me, how I am fortune-bound,
That if I harme him, I my selfe confound.
Bel.
Camæna must with him a traytor be,
Or Mustapha for her sake must be free.
Ross.
O cruell Fates, that doe in loue plant woe,
And in delight make our despaires to grow:
But speake, what hath she done?
Bel.
Vndone thy doing:
Discouered vnto Mustapha his danger,
Vertues sweete fame with loue of mercy wooing;
And great suspitions from these relicks grow,
That what she knowes, both Sonne and Father know.
I that am yours, durst not make you a stranger,
And yet was loth with duty to offend,
In childrens faults, a mothers wisdome showes.
Loues perfect tryall is in flame of anger;
That your belou'd Camæna perish not.
Rossa.
Nay, pale Auernus I doe so adore thee,
As I lament my wombe hath bin so barren,
To yeeld but one to offer vp before thee:
Who thinkes the daughter harme, can mother stay
From end, whereon a mothers heart is set,
Knowes not wisedome, wickednesse beget:
Boldnesse in malice dazels humane reason.
Camæna thy false blood shall doe me right.
Bel.
Rossa, is rage so mad, as to imagine
It masters heauen?
Rossa.
Is rage so mad,
As it will stay reuenge to hope for heauen?
Where ages are but houres.
Bel.
Is wrath so cruell?
Are lawes of loue so soone forgotten?
Is mercy dead?
Ross.
Would you haue wrath so foolish
As it should stay vntill it be abused?
Is Nature vnder such fond lawes begotten,
As Loue must giue it selfe to be abused?
Bel.
Yet by the Loue of mothers to their children,
By all the paines of trauell with your children,
Punish, but spare the life of faulty children.
Life may amend and well deceiue an other,
Death doth but cut off one, to warne an other.
Ross.
I doe protest before you spirits infernall,
That gouerne in your darknes vniform'd,
By all your plagues and miseries eternall,
By all your vgly shapes, and soules transform'd,
Neither to haue bin made a heauenly Angell,
Honour'd aliue, and after this life famous,
Would I loue of my children haue disclaymed:
But since by her my life is brought in question,
Since she is out of daughters duty gotten,
My mothers tender care shall be forgotten.
They still that haue good will to kill, or perish,
Camæna, then since thy desires would make
Thy mothers harme examples of thy glory,
Since thou do'st leaue me for a brothers sake,
Since thy heart feeles not what makes others sorry,
Thy triumphe shall bee death, thy glory shame,
For so die they that wrong a mothers name;
Thy treasures with thine owne arts are discarded;
I will do something not to be forgotten,
The giuers of examples are regarded.
CHORUS.
| The tragedy of Mvstapha | |