 | Darius : King of Persia |  |
[Scene]
SCENE The Field.Enter Darius, Artabasus, Patron, Guards.
Ar.
Oh! have I sav'd Villains to kill my King?
Da.
No more, no more, I know thy honest thoughts.
Oh! my dear Children, now a long farewell.
To all my Glory now a long farewel.
Nay, oh! my Fate, I must for ruine fight,
Cyrus and Alexander, did not shew
More Courage, to be Lords o'the whole World,
Than I must do to have no share in it.
For if these Villains Perish by my Sword,
I cut off all the Army that I have.
And I, the once Great Monarch of the World,
Shall want a Cave, where I may hide my head.
But Justice will be best for all Mankind.
I'le shew that I deserve the World I lose.
Pa.
I must entreat your leave for one word more.
Alas! I sooner shall have leave from you
Than from my self; for every word I speak
That grieves your heart, stabs mine, yet I must speak,
There's scarce a faithful man in all your Camp.
Da.
What dost thou say? are all the Persians false?
Pa.
They are as true to you, as to themselves.
But as in danger they have always done,
So they do now, forsake you and themselves.
Da.
Ha! do they joyn the Traytors?
Pa.
Oh! Sir, no.
They joyn with nothing but confounding fear;
And that they meet with wheresoe're they go,
Terrours beset 'em. Alexander comes,
And here the Traytors boldly threaten 'em.
They who had any Life in 'em, are fled,
And they that stay are held by Cowardise,
They have not Soul enough, even for flight.
45
He has told Truth which I was loath to speak.
We may as well force men into a Camp,
From Sick and Dying as from wanton Beds.
From Plagues as Luxury, a flattering Pest.
Da.
Oh! Alexander, where wou'd be thy Fame,
Hadst thou my Army? well may'st thou subdue
Kingdoms, by Men who merit to be Kings;
For mine do not deserve the name of men.
Pa.
Sir, one word, more, and then I shall have done.
Not far from hence, I have four thousand Greeks.
We march'd to Persia, fifty thousand men;
Did ever Greek forsake you, but by Death?
Alas! Sir, now we cannot if we wou'd.
For in your Service we have fought our selves,
Out of our Blood, our Country, and our Friends.
There is no Bactria, no Greece for us,
Your Royal Self is now our sole retreat,
We humbly beg, for all our Services,
No greater Honour, than to be your Guard.
Ar.
Sir, he desires an Honour, he deserves,
And what may be of mighty use to you.
His Greeks will be a Bulwark to your self,
And all your Men, give 'em new Courage.
Sir, grant him his request.
Da.
Not for the World!
A Glorious King shou'd ever more regard
The Honourable Counsels than the safe.
In my own Camp be a poor Fugitive?
To my own Nation a Forreigner?
To Forreigners a little Pensioner?
Have no Authority, but what they give?
And so descend from being a Persian King,
To be a petty Lord of a few Greeks.
The Traytors then will say they fight a Greek,
And I shall give 'em Colour for their Crimes.
No, I'le not fall by any fault of mine.
I'le not forsake my Friends: if they quit me,
The fault's not mine; and I had rather fall
By Royal Charity to my own Slaves,
Than Reign, by Stranger's Charity to me.
46
The Service of thy Sword, but not this way.
Go to thy Noble Greeks, and serve me there,
And Heaven reward thy Love, and Gallantry.
Pa.
Heaven be your Guard, I fear y'ave little else,
Besides what you shall ever find in me.
Da.
Thou Honour of thy Nation, shame to mine.
[Ex. Pa.
Now put my men in readiness to fight,
And then command the Traytors to my Feet.
If they dare disobey—fall on—
[An Alarm.
How now?
Ar.
What shou'd this mean?
[Ex. Ar.
Da.
They make the first assault.
My Chariot speedily—the news—the news.
Enter Artabazus.
Ar.
Sir, the Vantguard of Alexander's Troops
Is in your Camp.
Da.
Two Enemies at once,
Thou fight the Rebells, and I'le fight the King—
[Ex. Da. Ar. a great cry, Alarm and disorder within, and Enter Darius stopping the flying Persians.
Da.
For shame! for shame, you Cowards! quit your King?
And fly from sound; this is a false Alarm
The Traytors made, by Alexander's Name
To frighten you from me. Fly from his Name!
How will you meet his Sword? but, by my Life,
You shall encounter with his Sword or mine.
Enter Artabazus.
Ar.
Oh! Sir, a Cheat! a Cheat!
Da.
I know it well.
How many of our Men may be disperst?
Ar.
Sir, almost all; y'ave not a hundred left.
And now the Traytors have surrounded you,
Have interpos'd between the Greeks and you,
And are in a great body drawing down.
47
Then it is time.
The King offers to kill himself, but is held by Ar.
Ar.
Hold, Sir.
Da.
Now I reflect.
This Crime belongs only to Regicides.
Why shou'd I take their Guilt upon my self?
I ne're yet stain'd my Sword with Innocent Blood,
Why shou'd I do it in my dying hour?
Ar.
Oh! mournful hour!—oh! wou'd you had receiv'd
The Gallant Offer of the Noble Greek.
You had been safe as in a Tower of Steel.
Da.
Not from my self; it wou'd ha' stab'd my heart.
To beg poor Life, from a few wandring Greeks.
Alas! from them I cou'd ha' had no more.
Ar.
No doubt the Persians wou'd have followed you.
Da.
I'm better follow'd now, and more secure.
I'm safe from the Dishonour and the Crime,
Of quitting them, or doing any thing
That may deserve my miserable fall.
The thought brings many comforts to my Soul.
Ar.
A dreadful fall indeed! how have I seen
A hundred Nations follow you to Wars!
Follow! Adore you. Now your only Guards
Are a few Eunuchs, and a weak old man.
And you, who oft have rode on Golden Gods,
Are trod on now, by every little Slave.
Da.
Oh! these are many Darts, and they're all keen.
Yet did they only light upon my self,
My pain wou'd be no more, than if they fell
On a dead part; for in my Queen I'm dead.
But in my Children and my Friends I live.
Oh! there my Sence is quick, my Torments sharp.
Prithee dear Artabazus, when I'm dead,
Go to my Mother, Children, all my Friends,
And tell 'em how I fought, and how I mourn'd,
My Courage, Honour, and my Love to them
Stuck to me the last; but nothing else,
I give 'em cause to Mourn, but not to Blush.
A.
Oh! Sir, you rather give 'em cause of pride,
Men are admir'd, not prais'd for Happiness.
Vertue's the Lustre, Pomp is but a shew.
48
You conquer'd Power, where Alexander falls,
And now in Misery y'are Glorious still;
But, Sir, wou'd you wou'd try if you cou'd scape.
Da.
Ah! whither can I scape? to scornful Life?
I wou'd not have it, were it in my Power.
Then sure I wou'd not steal so poor a thing,
And if I wou'd, now the Attempt is vain.
I shall be catch'd in the disgraceful Theft
No, here I will attend my Destiny,
And now, good Artabazus, take thy leave.
Ar.
How! leave you, Sir, in all this great distress?
Da.
Alas! thy stay can do me little good.
'Twill rather hurt me much; encrease my Grief.
If thou hast any pleasure in my sighs,
Continue with me; I have none in thine,
No, we afflict each other; prithee go.
I love to have my Friends share in my joyes,
But wou'd have all my sorrows to my self,
And I can best contend with 'em alone.
For Sorrow I perceive's love's solitude,
I prithee take not from me solitude.
Ar.
I am not us'd, Sir, to dispute your will.
But I, shall never never see you more,
Or at least never till we meet in Heaven.
There is a Heaven, or there are no Gods.
Gods wou'd not suffer so much Misery
In their poor Creatures, but for some great End;
And all this world can never recompence
The sorrows of the least poor honest man.
What shall be done then for a Martyr'd King?
Da.
Nay, I confess I look, and long for Death.
Come Artabazus—take my last Embrace,
'Tis all I have to give thee for thy love.
Ar.
My King! my King!
Da.
My ever faithful friend.
Oh! thou art rooting deeper in my heart,
Tear thy self from me, or we cannot part.
Ar.
I have not strength to do't—
Da.
I cannot part—
49
And then betake to my last Friend, the Earth,
In whose cold Bosome I shall rest secure;
No Traytors will have Plots upon me there.
Now go.—
The King flings his Robe over his Face, then falls on the ground.
Ar.
Farewell for ever, Sir.
[Ex.
Da.
Farewell.
Go all—and as you go, plunder my Tents,
[To the Eunuchs.
Let not my bloody Murderers be my Heirs.
Better my Gold pay your Fidelity,
Than their base Villany. Go—'tis enough.
Your Faith and Love, have liv'd as long as I.
As the Eunuchs go off, they set up a mournful cry. At which Bessus, Nabarzanes, and Dataphernes, and their Guards, rush in upon the King with drawn Swords.
Be.
What means this cry?
Na.
Has the King kill'd himself?
Darius rises.
Da.
No, Villains; I yet live to punish you,
And lash your Crimes with Crimes, your cowardly
Dissimulation, hellish Cruelty,
Ingratitude more horrid than 'em both,
By the most Barbarous Murder of your King.
Be.
Sir, in this noise and storm of Passion,
It is in vain to utter peaceful sounds.
But time, that removes Mountains, calms the Sea,
Will Calm and clear up all; and you, who think
You have receiv'd unpardonable wrong,
Will ask us pardon for the wrong done us.
Da.
Oh! insolence!
Na.
Sir, you will find this Truth.
Mean while we must go on in this foul way,
To find the Fair; there, Guards, secure the King.
Da.
D'e say secure me; and yet call me King?
50
This is your common Cause, I am a King.
Rise all Mankind, for all Humanity
Is by these Villains scorn'd, disgrac'd, and curst,
By what they do to me their most kind Friend.
Nay, rise all Gods! your Power suffers in me
Your Minister, and a deputed God!
Your Justice suffers, I am Innocent.
Be.
Well, Sir, we pray then spare the Innocent,
Beat not your self, against that Loyal force,
Which we have built to fortifie your Life.
Na.
Yes, Sir, we mean your Service, and we pray
Force us on no indecent Violence.
We'll treat you Honourably, if you please.
Da.
Monsters of Treachery and Ingratitude!
The King is led out by a Guard.
Be.
Ho! Dataphernes!
Dat.
I am here, my Lord.
Be.
I trust the King to you—upon your Life,
Keep a strong Guard.
Na.
That will not be enough,
Let him be chain'd.
Be.
It is not ill advis'd.
But for the honour that we bear our selves,
Let's honourably treat his Dignity,
Since we our selves design to be both Kings.
Then let us beat Gold Ingots into Chains,
'Twill give a Lustre to our black attempt.
[Aside to Nabarzanes.
Na.
Th'attempt may appear black; our ends are Fair.
Be.
'Tis true; Sirs, you shall have an Inheritance
In manly Freedom; your Posterity
Shall all be born with Titles to themselves.
Now, my brave Friends, plunder the Royal Tents.
[Guards shout.
Then let us face the Greeks and Persians,
And see what they will do.
Na.
What dare they do?
51
Be.
'Tis true, but if they will our Power obey,
We'll do such things, shall give us right to sway:
The right, that only does from Birth proceed,
In my Esteem, springs from a Bastard Breed.
But Vertue is the Offspring of a God,
Vertue alone Legitimates the Blood.
[Ex.
| Darius : King of Persia | |