 | The Tragedie of Alaham |  |
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Actus quartus
Scena prima.
King. Celica.King.
Celica! thou only child, whom I repent
Not yet to haue begot! thy worke is vaine:
Thou run'st against my Destinies intent.
Feare not my fall; the steepe is fayrest plaine,
And error safest guide vnto his end,
Who nothing but mischance can haue to friend.
Not yet to haue begot! thy worke is vaine:
Thou run'st against my Destinies intent.
Feare not my fall; the steepe is fayrest plaine,
And error safest guide vnto his end,
Who nothing but mischance can haue to friend.
We parents are but Natures nursery,
When our succession springs then ripe to fall;
Priuation vnto age is naturall.
Age there is also in a Princes State,
Which is contempt, growne of misgouernment;
Where loue of change begetteth Princes hate:
For hopes must wither, or grow violent,
If fortune binde desires to one Estate.
When our succession springs then ripe to fall;
Priuation vnto age is naturall.
Age there is also in a Princes State,
Which is contempt, growne of misgouernment;
Where loue of change begetteth Princes hate:
For hopes must wither, or grow violent,
If fortune binde desires to one Estate.
Then marke: Blinde, as a Man: Scorn'd, as a King:
A Fathers kindnesse loath'd, and desolate:
Life without ioy, or light: what can it bring,
But inward horrour vnto outward hate?
O safety! thou art then a hatefull thing,
When childrens death assures the fathers State.
No; Safe I am not, though my sonne were slaine,
My frailty would beget such sonnes againe.
A Fathers kindnesse loath'd, and desolate:
Life without ioy, or light: what can it bring,
But inward horrour vnto outward hate?
O safety! thou art then a hatefull thing,
When childrens death assures the fathers State.
No; Safe I am not, though my sonne were slaine,
My frailty would beget such sonnes againe.
Besides, if fatall be the heauens will,
Repining adds more force to destinie,
Whose iron wheeles stay not on fleshly wit,
But headlong runne downe steep Necessity.
And as in danger, we doe catch at it
That comes to helpe; and vnaduisedly
Oft doe our friends to our misfortune knit:
So with the harme of those who would vs good,
Is Destinie impossibly withstood.
Repining adds more force to destinie,
Whose iron wheeles stay not on fleshly wit,
But headlong runne downe steep Necessity.
And as in danger, we doe catch at it
That comes to helpe; and vnaduisedly
Oft doe our friends to our misfortune knit:
So with the harme of those who would vs good,
Is Destinie impossibly withstood.
Celica then cease; importune me no more:
My sonne, my age, the state where things are now
Require my death. Who would consent to liue,
Where loue cannot reuenge, nor truth forgiue?
My sonne, my age, the state where things are now
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Where loue cannot reuenge, nor truth forgiue?
Celica.
Though feare see nothing but extremity,
Yet danger is no deep sea, but a Ford,
Where they that yeeld can only drowned be.
In wrongs, and wounds, Sir, you are to remisse.
To Thrones a passiue nature fatall is.
King.
Occasion to my sonne hath turn'd her face;
My inward wants all outward strengths betray;
And so make that impossible I may.
Celica.
Yet liue:
Liue for the State.
King.
Whose ruines glasses are,
Wherin see errors of my selfe I must,
And hold my life of danger, shame, and care.
Celica.
When feare propounds, with losse men euer choose.
King.
Nothing is left me, but my selfe, to lose.
Celica.
And is it nothing then to lose the State?
King.
Where chance is ripe, there counsell comes too late:
Celica! by all thou ow'st the Gods, and me,
I doe coniure thee; Leaue me to my chance.
What's past was errors way; the truth it is,
Wherein I wretch can only goe amisse.
“If Nature saw no cause of suddaine ends,
“She; that but one way made to draw our breath,
“Would not haue left so many doores to death.
Celica.
Yet Sir! if weaknesse be not such a sande,
As neither wrong, nor counsell can manure;
Choose, and resolue what death you will endure.
King.
This sword, thy hands, may offer vp my breath,
And plague my lifes remissenesse in my death.
Celica.
Vnto that dutie if these hands be borne,
I must thinke God, and Truth, but names of scorne.
Againe, this iustice were, if life were lou'd;
Now meerly grace; since death doth, but forgiue
A life to you, which is a death to liue.
Paine must displease that satisfies offence.
King.
Chance hath left death no more to spoile, but sense.
Celica.
Then sword! doe Iustice office thorough me;
I offer more than that he hates to thee.
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Ah! Stay thy hand. My State no equall hath,
And much more matchlesse my strange vices be:
One kinde of death becomes not thee, and me.
Kings plagues by chance, or destinie should fall;
Headlong he perish must that ruines all.
Celica.
No cliffe, or rocke is so precipitate,
But downe it eyes can leade the blinde a way;
Without me liue, or with me dye you may.
King.
Celica! and wilt thou Alaham exceed?
His crueltie is death, you torments vse;
He takes my Crowne, you take my selfe from me;
A Prince of this falne Empire let me be.
Celica.
Then be a King, no Tyrant of thy selfe:
Be; and be what you will: what nature lent
Is still in hers, and not our gouernment.
King.
If disobedience, and obedience both
Still doe me hurt; in what strange state am I?
But hold thy course: It well becomes my blood,
To doe their parents mischiefe with their good.
Celica.
Yet Sir! harke to the poore oppressed teares,
The iust mens moane, that suffer by your fall;
A Princes charge is to protect them all.
And shall it nothing be that I am yours?
The world without, my heart within doth know,
I neuer had vnkinde, vnreuerent powers.
If thus you yeeld to Alahams treacherie;
He ruines you; 'tis you, Sir, ruine me.
King.
Celica! Call vp the dead; awake the blinde;
Turne backe the time; bid windes tell whence they come;
As vainly strength speakes to a broken minde.
Fly from me Celica! hate all I doe:
Misfortunes haue in blood successions too.
Celica.
Will you doe that which Alaham can not?
He hath no good: you haue no ill, but he:
This Marre-right yeelding's honors Tyranny.
King.
Haue I not done amisse? Am I not ill,
That ruin'd haue a Kings authority?
And not one King alone; since Princes all
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Treason against me cannot treason be:
All lawes haue lost authority in me.
Celica.
“The lawes of power chain'd to mens humors be.
“The good haue conscience; the ill (like instruments)
“Are, in the hands of wise authority,
“Moued, diuided, vsed, or layd downe;
“Still, with desire, kept subiect to a Crowne.
“Stirre vp all States, all spirits: hope, and feare;
Wrong, and reuenge, are currant euery where.
King.
Put downe my sonne: For that must be the way;
A fathers shame, a Princes Tyrannie:
The Scepter euer shall misiudged be.
Celica.
Let them feare rumor that doe worke amisse;
Blood, torments, death, horrors of Cruelty,
Haue time, and place. Looke through these skinnes of feare,
Which still perswade the better side to beare.
And since thy sonne thus trayterously conspires,
Let him not prey on all thy race, and thee:
Keepe ill example from posterity.
King.
Danger is come: and must I now vnarme?
And let in hope to weaken resolution?
Passion! be thou my Legacie, and Will;
To thee I giue my life, Crowne, reputation;
My pompes to clouds; and (as forlorne with men)
My strength to women; hoping this alone,
Though fear'd, sought, and a King, to liue vnknowne.
Celica! all these to thee: doe thou bestow
This liuing darknesse, wherein I doe goe.
Celica.
My soule now ioyes. Doing breathes horrour out.
Absence must be our first sleppe: Let vs fly:
A pawse in rage makes Alaham to doubt;
Which doubt may stirre in people hope, and feare,
With loue, or hate, to seeke you euery where.
For Princes liues are fortunes miserie;
“As dainty sparks, which till men dead doe know,
“To kindle for himselfe each man doth blow.
Absence must be our first sleppe: Let vs fly:
A pawse in rage makes Alaham to doubt;
Which doubt may stirre in people hope, and feare,
With loue, or hate, to seeke you euery where.
For Princes liues are fortunes miserie;
“As dainty sparks, which till men dead doe know,
“To kindle for himselfe each man doth blow.
But harke! What's this? Malice doth neuer sleepe:
I heare the Spies of power drawing neere.
Sir! follow me: Misfortunes worst is come;
Her strength is change; and change yeelds better doome.
Choice now is past. Hard by there is a pile
Built, vnder colour of a sacrifice;
If God doe grant, it is a place to saue;
If God denies, it is a ready graue.
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Sir! follow me: Misfortunes worst is come;
Her strength is change; and change yeelds better doome.
Choice now is past. Hard by there is a pile
Built, vnder colour of a sacrifice;
If God doe grant, it is a place to saue;
If God denies, it is a ready graue.
Scena secunda.
Zophi. Celica.Zophi.
Where am I now? All things are silent here.
What shall I doe? Goe on from place, to place,
Not knowing what to trust, or whom to feare?
Yet what should I not feare, that liue to know
Rights, Kingdomes, parents, all, my ouerthrow?
Are these the specious hopes of Princes heires;
Is Right still subiect to aspiring wit?
Haue they that stand by Princes, more despaires,
Than they that doe supplant annoynted heires!
Is expectation nothing else in me,
But woes fore-runner, to make deepe impression,
By these surprises, of aduersity?
Are these the glorious triumphs of this day?
Absent, in presence; banisht, in recalling;
A Throne, a tombe; a Prince become a prey.
What shall I doe? Goe on from place, to place,
Not knowing what to trust, or whom to feare?
Yet what should I not feare, that liue to know
Rights, Kingdomes, parents, all, my ouerthrow?
Are these the specious hopes of Princes heires;
Is Right still subiect to aspiring wit?
Haue they that stand by Princes, more despaires,
Than they that doe supplant annoynted heires!
Is expectation nothing else in me,
But woes fore-runner, to make deepe impression,
By these surprises, of aduersity?
Are these the glorious triumphs of this day?
Absent, in presence; banisht, in recalling;
A Throne, a tombe; a Prince become a prey.
Ah cruell, false, ambitious thirst of State!
Bloody-like rage! but more reuengefull still,
Because their ends doe more inflame their will.
My rights, and hopes I giue, and doe forgiue:
Wrong! take the world, let me enioy my selfe.
Scorn'd, blind, I cannot harme. Ah! let me liue.
Let power despise
My needlesse, guiltlesse blood. The strength of feare
The losse of all things, but of life, can beare.
Bloody-like rage! but more reuengefull still,
Because their ends doe more inflame their will.
My rights, and hopes I giue, and doe forgiue:
Wrong! take the world, let me enioy my selfe.
Scorn'd, blind, I cannot harme. Ah! let me liue.
Let power despise
My needlesse, guiltlesse blood. The strength of feare
The losse of all things, but of life, can beare.
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What see I here! More spectacles of woe?
And are my kinred only made to be
Agents, and Patients in iniquity?
Ah forlorne wretch! ruines example right!
Lost to thy selfe, not to thy enemie,
Whose hand, euen while thou fliest, thou fal'st into;
And with thy fall, thy father do'st vndoe.
Saue one I may: Nature would saue them both;
But Chance hath many wheeles; Rage many eyes.
And are my kinred only made to be
Agents, and Patients in iniquity?
Ah forlorne wretch! ruines example right!
Lost to thy selfe, not to thy enemie,
Whose hand, euen while thou fliest, thou fal'st into;
And with thy fall, thy father do'st vndoe.
Saue one I may: Nature would saue them both;
But Chance hath many wheeles; Rage many eyes.
What shall I then abandon innocents?
Not helpe a helplesse brother throwne on me?
Is nature narrow to aduersity?
No, No. Our God left duty for a law;
Pittie, at large; Loue, in authority;
Despaire, in bonds; feare, of it selfe in awe:
That rage of time, and powers strange liberty,
Oppressing good men might resistance finde:
Nor can I to a brother be lesse kinde.
Do'st thou, that canst not see, hope to escape?
Disgrace, can haue no friend; contempt, no guide;
Right, is thy guilt; thy Iudge, iniquity;
Which desolation casts on them that see.
Not helpe a helplesse brother throwne on me?
Is nature narrow to aduersity?
No, No. Our God left duty for a law;
Pittie, at large; Loue, in authority;
Despaire, in bonds; feare, of it selfe in awe:
That rage of time, and powers strange liberty,
Oppressing good men might resistance finde:
Nor can I to a brother be lesse kinde.
Do'st thou, that canst not see, hope to escape?
Disgrace, can haue no friend; contempt, no guide;
Right, is thy guilt; thy Iudge, iniquity;
Which desolation casts on them that see.
Zophi.
Make calme thy rage: pittie a ghost distrest:
My right, my liberty, I freely giue:
Giue him, that neuer harm'd thee, leaue to liue.
Celica.
Nay; God, the World, thy Parents it denie;
A brothers iealous heart, vsurped might
Growes friends with all the world, except thy right.
Zophi.
Secure thy selfe. Exile me from this coast:
My fault, suspition is; my Iudge, is feare;
Occasion, with my selfe, away I beare.
Celica.
Fly vnto God: For in humanity
Hope there is none. Reach me thy fearfull hand:
I am thy sister; neither fiend, nor spie
Of Tyrants rage; but one that feeles despaire
Of thy Estate, which thou do'st only feare.
Kneele downe; embrace this holy mystery,
A refuge to the worst for rape, and blood;
And yet, I feare, not hallowed for the good.
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Helpe God! defend thine Altar! since thy might,
In earth, leaues Innocence no other right.
Celica.
Eternall God! that seest thy selfe in vs!
If vowes be more than sacrifice of lust,
Rays'd from the smokes of hope, and feare in vs;
Protect this innocent; calme Alahams rage;
By miracles faith goes from age, to age.
Affection trembles; reason is opprest;
Nature, methinkes, doth her owne entrayles teare:
In resolution ominous is feare.
Scena tertia.
Alaham. Celica.Alaham.
Sirs! seeke the City, examine, torture, racke:
Sanctuaries none let there be: make darknesse knowne:
Pull downe the roofes, digge, burne, put all to wracke:
And let the guiltlesse for the guilty grone.
Change, shame, misfortune in their scaping, lie;
And in their finding our prosperity.
Sanctuaries none let there be: make darknesse knowne:
Pull downe the roofes, digge, burne, put all to wracke:
And let the guiltlesse for the guilty grone.
Change, shame, misfortune in their scaping, lie;
And in their finding our prosperity.
Good fortune Welcome! we haue lost our care,
And found our losse: Celica distract I see;
The King is neere: She is her fathers eyes.
Behold! the forlorne wretch, halfe of my feare,
Takes Sanctuary at holy Altars feet:
Lead him apart, examine, force, and try;
These binde the subiect, not the Monarchy.
Celica! awake: that God of whom you craue
Is deafe, and only giues men what they haue.
And found our losse: Celica distract I see;
The King is neere: She is her fathers eyes.
Behold! the forlorne wretch, halfe of my feare,
Takes Sanctuary at holy Altars feet:
Lead him apart, examine, force, and try;
These binde the subiect, not the Monarchy.
Celica! awake: that God of whom you craue
Is deafe, and only giues men what they haue.
Celica.
Ah cruell wretch! guilty of parents blood!
Might I, poore innocent, my father free,
My murther yet were lesse impiety.
But on; deuoure: feare only to be good:
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When thou at once thy house do'st sacrifice.
Alaham.
Tell me where thy Father is.
Celic.
O bloody scorne?
Must he be kill'd againe that gaue thee breath?
Is duty nothing else in thee but death?
Alaham.
Leaue off this maske; deceipt is neuer wise;
Though he be blind, a King hath many eyes
Celica.
O two fold scorne. God be reueng'd for me.
Yet since my Father is destroy'd by thee,
Adde still more scorne, it sorrow multiplies.
Alaham.
Passions are learn'd, not borne within the heart,
That method keepe: Order is quiets art.
Tell where he is: For looke what loue conceales,
Paine out of Natures Labyrinths reueales.
Celica.
This is reward which thou do'st threaten me:
If terrour thou wilt threaten, promise ioyes.
Alah.
Smart cooles these boyling stiles of vanity.
Celica.
And if my Father I no more shall see,
Helpe me vnto the place where he remaines;
To hell below, or to the skie aboue:
The way is easie, where the guide is loue.
Alah.
Confesse: where is he hid?
Celica.
Racke not my woe.
Thy glorious pride of this vnglorious deed
Doth mischiefe, ripe; and therefore falling, show.
Alah.
Bodies haue place, and blindnesse must be led:
Graues be the Thrones of Kings, when they be dead.
Celica.
He was (Vnhappy) cause that thou art now;
Thou art, ah wicked! cause that he is not;
And fear'st thou Parricide can be forgot?
Beare witnesse, Thou Almighty God on high!
And you blacke Powers inhabiting below!
That for his life my selfe would yeeld to die.
Alah.
Well Sirs! Goe seeke the darke, and secret caues,
The holy Temples, sanctified Cells,
All parts wherein a liuing corps may dwell.
Celica.
Seeke him amongst the dead, you plac'd him there:
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And, but to heauen, you may goe euery where.
Guilty, with you, of his blood let me be,
If any more I of my Father know,
Than that he is where you would haue him goe.
Alah.
Teare vp the vaults: behold her agonies!
“Sorrow substracts, and multiplies the spirits;
“Care, and desire doe vnder anguish cease!
“Doubt curious is, affecting piety;
“Woe, loues it selfe; feare from it selfe would flie.
Doe not these trembling motions witnesse beare,
That all these protestations be of feare?
Celica.
If ought be quicke in me, moue it with scorne:
Nothing can come amisse to thoughts forlorne.
Alah.
Confesse in time. Reuenge is mercilesse.
Celica.
Reward, and paine; feare, and desire too,
Are vaine, in things impossible to doe.
Alah.
Tell yet where thou thy Father last didst see.
Celica.
Euen where he by his losse of eyes hath wonne,
That he no more shall see his monstrous Sonne.
First, in perpetuall night thou mad'st him goe;
His flesh the graue, his life the stage, where sense
Playes all the Tragedies of paine, and woe.
And wouldst thou trayterosly thy selfe exceed,
By seeking thus to make his Ghost to bleed?
Alah.
Beare her away: deuise; adde to the racke
Torments, that both call death, and turne it backe.
Celica.
The flattering glasse of Power is others paine.
Perfect thy worke; that heauen, and hell may know,
To worse I cannot, going from thee, goe.
Perfect thy worke; that heauen, and hell may know,
To worse I cannot, going from thee, goe.
“Eternall life, that euer liu'st aboue!
“If sense there be with thee of hate, or loue;
“Reuenge my King, and Fathers ouerthrow.
“O Father! if that name reach vp so high,
“And be more than a proper word of Art,
“To teach respects in our humanity;
“Accept these paines, wherof you feele no smart.
“If sense there be with thee of hate, or loue;
“Reuenge my King, and Fathers ouerthrow.
“O Father! if that name reach vp so high,
“And be more than a proper word of Art,
“To teach respects in our humanity;
“Accept these paines, wherof you feele no smart.
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Scena Quarta.
King. Alaham.King.
What sound is this of Celica's distresse?
Alaham! wrong not a silly sisters faith.
'Tis plague enough that she is innocent;
My child, thy sister; borne (by thee, and me)
With shame, and sinne to haue affinity.
Breake me; I am the prison of thy thought:
Crownes deare enough, with fathers blood, are bought.
Alah.
Now feele thou shalt, thou ghost vnnaturall!
Those wounds which thou to my heart then didst giue,
When, in despite of God, this State, and me,
Thou did'st from death mine elder brother free.
The smart of Kings oppression doth not die:
Time, rusteth malice; rust, wounds cruelly.
King.
Flatter thy wickednesse; adorne thy rage;
To weare a Crowne teare vp thy Fathers age.
Kill not thy sister: It is lacke of wit,
To doe an ill that brings no good with it.
Alah.
Goe, lead them hence. Prepare the funerall;
Hasten the sacrifice, and pompe of woe.
Where she did hide him, thither let them goe.
King.
“O God! who mad'st those lawes which this Wretch breaks,
“Let parents blood this curse vpon him bring;
“That he, who of a child breakes all respect,
“May, in his children, finde the same neglect.
CHORVS QVARTVS, of People.
Like as strong windes doe worke vpon the Sea,
Stirring, and tossing waues to warre each other:
So Princes doe with Peoples humors play,
As if Confusion were the Scepters mother.
But Crownes! take heed: when humble things mount high,
The windes oft calme before those billowes lie.
Stirring, and tossing waues to warre each other:
So Princes doe with Peoples humors play,
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But Crownes! take heed: when humble things mount high,
The windes oft calme before those billowes lie.
When we are all wrong'd, had we all one minde,
Whom could you punish? what could you reserue?
Againe, as hope, and feare distract mankinde;
Knew Kings their strength, our freedome were to serue.
But Fate doth to her selfe reserue both these,
With each to punish other, when it please.
Whom could you punish? what could you reserue?
Againe, as hope, and feare distract mankinde;
Knew Kings their strength, our freedome were to serue.
But Fate doth to her selfe reserue both these,
With each to punish other, when it please.
Grant that we be the stuffe for Princes art,
By, and on it, to build their Thrones aboue vs:
Yet if Kings be the head, we be the heart;
And know we loue no soule, that doth not loue vs.
Mens many passions iudge the worst at length,
And they that doe so, easily know their strength:
By, and on it, to build their Thrones aboue vs:
Yet if Kings be the head, we be the heart;
And know we loue no soule, that doth not loue vs.
Mens many passions iudge the worst at length,
And they that doe so, easily know their strength:
With bruit, and rumor, as with hope, and feare,
You lay vs low, or lift vs from our earth;
You trie what nature, what our States can beare;
By law you bind the liberties of birth;
Making the People bellowes vnto Fame,
Which vshers heauy doomes with euill name.
You lay vs low, or lift vs from our earth;
You trie what nature, what our States can beare;
By law you bind the liberties of birth;
Making the People bellowes vnto Fame,
Which vshers heauy doomes with euill name.
Kings gouerne People, ouer-racke them not:
Fleece vs; but doe not clippe vs to the quicke.
Thinke not with good, and ill, to write, and blot:
The good doth vanish, where the ill doth sticke.
Hope not with trifles to grow popular;
Wounds that are heal'd for euer leaue a scarre.
Fleece vs; but doe not clippe vs to the quicke.
Thinke not with good, and ill, to write, and blot:
The good doth vanish, where the ill doth sticke.
Hope not with trifles to grow popular;
Wounds that are heal'd for euer leaue a scarre.
To offer People showes makes vs too great:
Princes descend not, keep your selues aboue.
The Sunne drawes not our browes vp, but our sweat:
Your safest racke to winde vs vp is Loue.
To maske your vice in pompes is vainly done:
Motes lie not hidden in beames of a Sunne.
Princes descend not, keep your selues aboue.
The Sunne drawes not our browes vp, but our sweat:
Your safest racke to winde vs vp is Loue.
To maske your vice in pompes is vainly done:
Motes lie not hidden in beames of a Sunne.
The stampe of Soueraignty makes currant
Home brasse to buy, or sell, as well as gold:
Yet marke! the Peoples standard is the warrant
What man ought not to doe, and what he should.
Of words we are the Grammar, and of deeds
The haruest both is ours, and eke the seeds.
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Yet marke! the Peoples standard is the warrant
What man ought not to doe, and what he should.
Of words we are the Grammar, and of deeds
The haruest both is ours, and eke the seeds.
We are the glasse of Power, and doe reflect
That Image backe, which it to vs presents:
If Princes flatter, straight we doe neglect;
If they be fine, we see, yet seeme content.
Nor can the Throne, which Monarchs doe liue in,
Shaddow Kings faults, or sanctifye their sinne.
That Image backe, which it to vs presents:
If Princes flatter, straight we doe neglect;
If they be fine, we see, yet seeme content.
Nor can the Throne, which Monarchs doe liue in,
Shaddow Kings faults, or sanctifye their sinne.
Make not the Church to vs an instrument
Of bondage, to your selues of libertie:
Obedience there confirmes your Gouernment;
Our Soueraignes, Gods Subalternes you be:
Else while Kings fashion God in humane light,
Men see, and skorne what is not Infinite.
Of bondage, to your selues of libertie:
Obedience there confirmes your Gouernment;
Our Soueraignes, Gods Subalternes you be:
Else while Kings fashion God in humane light,
Men see, and skorne what is not Infinite.
Make not the end of Iustice, Checquer-gaine,
It is the Liberality of Kings:
Oppression, and Extortion euer raigne,
When Lawes looke more on Scepters, than on things.
Make crooked that line which you measure by;
And marre the fashion straight of Monarchie.
It is the Liberality of Kings:
Oppression, and Extortion euer raigne,
When Lawes looke more on Scepters, than on things.
Make crooked that line which you measure by;
And marre the fashion straight of Monarchie.
Why doe you then prophane your Royall line,
Which we hold sacred, and dare not approach?
Their wounds, and wrongs proue you are not diuine,
And we learne, by example, to encroch.
Your Fathers losse of eyes foretells his end:
By craft, which lets downe Princes, we ascend.
Which we hold sacred, and dare not approach?
Their wounds, and wrongs proue you are not diuine,
And we learne, by example, to encroch.
Your Fathers losse of eyes foretells his end:
By craft, which lets downe Princes, we ascend.
How shall the People hope? how stay their feare,
When old foundations daily are made new?
Vncertaine is a heauy loade to beare;
What is not constant sure was neuer true.
Excesse in one makes all indefinite:
Where nothing is our owne, there what delight?
When old foundations daily are made new?
Vncertaine is a heauy loade to beare;
What is not constant sure was neuer true.
Excesse in one makes all indefinite:
Where nothing is our owne, there what delight?
70
Kings then take heed! Men are the bookes of fate,
Wherein your vices deep engrauen lye,
To shew our God the griefe of euery State.
And though great bodies do not straightwaies die;
Yet know, Your errors haue this proper doome,
Euen in our ruine to prepare your tombe.
Wherein your vices deep engrauen lye,
To shew our God the griefe of euery State.
And though great bodies do not straightwaies die;
Yet know, Your errors haue this proper doome,
Euen in our ruine to prepare your tombe.
| The Tragedie of Alaham | |