University of Virginia Library

Scene the First.

After a sound of Trumpets, Enter Theinmingus, Zungteus, Palexus, and Tartars with drawn Swords as from Battel.
Theinmingus.
In this days Action we have Glory bought:
Now the Chineses have been kind, and fought.

Zung.
That brave Young Man, the late Ambassadour,
Who in defiance of your threatning Pow'r,
Did to your Face the Chinan War proclaim;
His Hand makes work for Graves, his Praise for Fame.
Renown in all the Miracles of this
Great day, is dumb to any Name, but His.
He and his small Brigade so fierce engage,
They've in one day made Story for an Age.
Breaking our Ranks, he Fate distributes round;
Wounds on each stroak attend, Death on each Wound.
He Kills with such a gay undaunted Port;
Fighting seems not his business, but his Sport.
His Looks and Actions speak in different styles.
Rage frowns in others Brows, in his it smiles.
That makes him in this more than humane Task,
Seem both to act a Slaughter, and a Mask.

Thein.
Praising a Foe in such a stile as this,
You prove your glory in describing his.
Heroe's from Heroe's tongues, no Fame e're lost:
They give praise frankest who deserve it most.

Zung.
Sir, I remember this brisk Youth, when he
His charge to you deliver'd, challeng'd me.
And I by th'Envy of his actions brought,
Through the whole Battel have the Champion sought.
But I observe, and wonder for what cause,
He from that place where-e're I come, with-draws.
Yet still, to shew, he makes a brave Retreat;
When almost within reach of Swords we meet,
Lays Crouds of slaughter'd Souldiers at my feet.
As if he meant
By his own Trophies t'have my Chase with-held,
And bar'd our meeting by the heaps he kill'd.

Thein.
Charge him once more, and your first Chase renew,
And try—If above man he be immortal too.

Zung.
Now if Fate favours me, His Sword I'le try.
Yet one thing startles me, I know not why;
When e're I meet him, Arm'd with all the fire
That Envy can a Souldiers breast inspire,
His looks disarm me, and my Rage divert:
I've a desire to vanquish, but not hurt.
Sure some Divinity restrains my will:
He's th'only man I'de Conquer, but not Kill.

Exeunt.
After several Excursions, and continued sounds of Trumpets, Enter Amavanga, Vangona, and Women in Mens habit.
Am.
Fate, kind Companions of our glorious Toyls,
On our great Cause and greater Conduct smiles.
In this day's Action we have Honour won:
And though our Sex wears Clouds, our Fame wears none.
Fame th'airy Magick of the great, whose breath
Does make our Names like Ghosts, walk after death.
Which to great spirits does this Faith convey:
To live to morrow, is to dye to day.

Enter Lycungus.
Lyc.
Sir, my great Masters Will I here proclaim,
Who wishes you Immortal, as your Fame.
The King by his Imperial Charge concern'd,
At what he from this Bloody day has learn'd;
To the proud Tartar has a Herauld sent;
The Fate of lingring Sieges to prevent.
T'accept a Duel, and their great debate,
End by a single hand; to finish what
The tardy Chance of War but longer draws:
War the Tribunal of a Monarchs Cause:
Where Might speaks Reason, and where force pleads Law.
Where often Suits so slow t'a period draw;
E're the Cause ends, the Pleaders meet their Fates;
And the Dispute out-lives the Advocates.
The Tartar his Proposals does accept;
And since Fame has on you such Honours heap'd:
Our Gracious King excited by the Charm
Of what Success waits on your Conqu'ring Arm.
On your brave hand confers this high Renown,
To win a Lawrel where it saves a Crown.

Am.
Oh my kind Stars, go let your hast take wings,
And bear my Thanks back to the best of Kings.
My Lawrels blossom on my Brows—But stay,
With my most humble thanks my Pride convey.
Tell him a greater and more glorious task
He could not grant, nor my Ambition ask.

Lyc.
Quitazo, his great General implor'd
This favour from his hand, t'accept a Sword.
But his intreaties did succesless prove,
Urg'd by the fondness of the Princess Love.
Who would not trust her dear Quitazo's Fate,
To the bold chance of such a strict debate.
Which glorious Charge, your Vallours juster due,
His Suit rejected, he assigns to you.

Exit.
Am.
His thronging favours too Excessive grow.
Fate never was a Prodigal till now.

After Shouts heard from a distance, Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Fortune still lays new Honour at your Feet:
You shall a Noble Adversary meet.
The Tartars in these Shouts speak their applause;
Proud that their Prince Zungteus weds their Cause.
Link't to his Fate, or yours, 'twixt two brave hands
The Ballance of this mighty Empire stands.

Am.
Zungteus, Oh the Gods! what have I done!
The only man whom I in Arms would shun.
O'retake the Herauld in his hasty flight,
And bid him tell the King I will not Fight.

Vang.
Not Fight?

Am.
—Not with Zungteus, call him back.

Vang.
—No, stay.

Am.
How?

Vang.
—Love Commands what Honour can't obey.
Would you a generous King so ill requite,
And check that Fame which takes so high a flight?

Am.
Oh thou rash Honour, whose too eager Zeal,
Made me t'a Contract not look't o're set Seal;
Honour a frantick Lust in Souls sublime,
Of leaping o're what Prudence stays to climb!
The King I hope by this time understands,
That my fierce Answer came from feeble hands.
And will conclude from my too brisk reply,
I talk too much to fit a part so high.

Vang.
Your quick acceptance merits his applause;
T'have askt your Foe, e're you embrac'd the Cause,
That were t'have chose where safely you might strike:
Great Valour weighs all Enemies alike.
You in your swift Compliance have exprest
Such Gallantry, the King will trust the rest.
His Confidence no further tryal needs:
He builds his Faith upon your former Deeds.

Am.
If in my former Deeds I'm so much blest;
My Fame and I may now sit down and rest.
And since I have so many Lawrels wore,
Tell him I'm modest, and will win no more.

Vang.
In this Retreat you would your Fame deface,
And shew you had begun a glorious Race;
But wanted Courage to pursue the Chase;

Am.
I'le tell him I'm a Woman, and resign
To a manly hand, which is too great for mine.

Vang.
You ought great deeds the rather to pursue;
As from a Woman they're more rare, and new.

Am.
I'le tell him I'm a Lover.

Vang.
—That Excuse
A dangerous suspition would produce
Both of your Courage and Allegiance too.
To own a Love for China's mortal Foe,
Would sound but harshly to the Emperours Ear.
As if your private fancy you prefer
Before your Countreys Cause: 'Tis a less blot
To be an ill Lover, than bad Patriot.

Am.
I'le tell him then I am—

Vang.
—A Coward.

Am.
—How?

Vang.
If your fond thoughts to this tame faintness bow,
Your honour all is at one blast expir'd:
They'l say e're half your Race was run, you tyr'd.
And 'tis far less ignoble not to have
Been ever fam'd, then not continue brave.

Am.
A Coward!
Who but appear's a Coward, though abused,
Is sentenc'd in his being but accused.
The Name's almost as heinous as the guilt.
That Title ruines all my Honour built.
And if my shrinking thoughts too lowly move,
I'm impudent if I pretend to Love.
Coward and Lover are of different kind:
Love's the most daring passion of the mind.
'Tis a Majestick and a Royal Guest,
And scornes to Lodge in an unhallow'd breast.
Whom Cowardise insects, Love's fire ne'r felt.
It is the dross of Souls and cannot melt.
I'le meet him then, and do my self this Right.
I'le shew that I can Love, 'cause I dare Fight.
Since I admire a Man so high in Fame,
I'le keep up Glory to support my flame.

Exeunt.