University of Virginia Library

Scena quinta.

Scene, a Pavilion Royal.
Enter Cambyses, and Prexaspes.
Camb.
—Enough—I am convinc'd of Smerdis Fate.
'Tis well my blood does not disturb my State.
How sits the Cloud upon Mandana's brow?

Prex.
She does no time but to her tears allow.

Camb.
Marble sheds tears, but cannot softer grow:
Her heart's still hard, and ever will be so.
You said you for her griefs a cure design'd.

Prex.
Sir, to divert these troubles from her mind,
I have design'd, after a Martial dance,
A masque of Captive Princes shall advance,
Adorn'd with Chains, and Coronets of gold:
Seated upon whose necks you shall behold
A Prince Triumphant, deckt with Martial spoyls,
Amidst your Trophies, and great Cyrus toyls.
Hid in the Trophies of this Pageant King
An Eagle on the sudden shall take wing,
A Crown fixt to her Talons. As she flyes,
And hov'ring mounts still nearer to the Skyes;
When at the utmost height she finds her Chain
Does her intended Liberty restrain;
Her Fetters shall her tow'ring flight recall,
Forc'd down, she at Mandana's feet shall fall,
And there depose her Crown.

Camb.
—Conduct her in,
And let this glorious Scene of Love begin.
[Exit Prex.
Thus I'le describe my passion. Love sounds best,
Like Oracles in Mysteries exprest.

Enter Prexaspes and Mandana. The King and Mandana seated, a Martial Dance is perform'd; the Dance ended, the Scene opens, and the Masque is represented; at which Mandana rises, and offers to go out: at which Cambyses follows her, and the Scene shuts.
Camb.
Stay, cruel Princess, stay. Are your fair eyes
Afraid to look on their own Victories?
Or, are you startl'd at your own great pow'r,
To see your Slave in the Worlds Conquerour?
Who from your influence does his greatness take,
And Conquers onely for Mandana's sake.

Mand.
O Fatal Beauty! was't Mandana's eyes
That made you win her Crown, and Sacrifice
Her Fathers blood?

Camb.
—Your losses I'le restore,
With Crowns more bright than Amasis e're wore.

Mand.
No, Tyrant know, my soul's not sunk so far,
To stoop to my great Fathers Murderer.
Have I my self no better understood,
Then thus to found my greatness on his blood?
Your proffer'd Crowns cannot my thoughts controul,
You have subdu'd my Empire, not my soul.

Camb.
Madam, how dare you thus provoke his hate
Who's the disposer of your Crown, and Fate?

Mand.
Ay, Sir, you of my Life and Throne dispose;
And those are trifles I could wish to lose.
But know, proud King, my Virtue I'le secure:
My Honour is above a Tyrant's pow'r.

[Exit.
Camb.
Captive, farewel. Since you so stubborn prove,
I will take care you shall be taught to Love.
A gust of passion has uncalm'd my soul;
My blood does with a livelier motion roul.
A fierce assault my drowsie soul does storm;
And bids my Love wear a more manly form.
My Reason now shall my blind passion guide;
I'le be a Vassal to her Eyes, not Pride.
Since then my mildness could not win a smile,
I'le learn to court her in a rougher stile.
Enter Otanes, Darius, and Artaban.
My lab'ring thoughts must now make truce. My Lords,
Will there be an imployment for our Swords?
How strong's their Garrison, how great their Force?

Otan.
Their number, Sir, is fifty thousand Horse:
And twice that number is their Infantrie.

Camb.
Then they are fit to be o'recome by me.
You then must know from whence this War does spring,
And who would be my Brother, and your King.

Dar.
Who, but your Brother, durst your seat supply?
A baser blood could ne're have thoughts so high.

Camb.
You are mistaken, Sir, he wears no Crown,
Unless that some kind god has lent him one.
Smerdis is dead.

Otan.
—How dead? And by whose hand?

Camb.
It was by his, and 'twas by my command.

[Points to Prex.
Otan.
Then the War's done; you've rob'd us of our Foe.

Camb.
Ay, Sir, of him I rob'd you long ago:
'Tis not my Brother that does wear my Crown.

Artab.
Your Brother dead, yet Smerdis in your Throne?

Dar.
Who then is he dares that high Title claim,
Usurping both your Empire, and his name?

Camb.
False Patasithes, whom I rais'd above
Either my Subjects Envy, or their Love,
Has in requital rob'd me of that Throne
Under whose lustre he so bright was grown.
Thus the Moons kindness does the Suns requite,
Eclipsing him from whom she takes her light.
His Kinsman Smerdis he does subtly bring
To represent my Brother, and your King.
Enter to them, Smerdis, disguis'd.
What's he that to our Presence does intrude?

Smerd.
Sir, 'tis my Loyalty that makes me rude.

Prex.
'Tis he, Great Sir, who in our cause does joyn,
The chiefest Agent in our Grand design.

Camb.
And do you know that Smerdis, Sir, that wou'd
Lay claim both to my Empire, and my blood?

Smerd.
Dread Sir, to me he is so near ally'd,
He from my breast cannot his secrets hide.

Camb.
But are you sure he is your trusty Friend?

[To Prex.
Prex.
As sure as all the tyes on Earth can bind.

Smerd.
On this, great King, we've founded our design:
The charge of Susa's Western Gate is mine.
And that which to our safety does conduce,
You know the cons'quence of a lazy Truce.
Truces which seem but Martial Masques, and are
The Crimes of Peace drest in the garb of War.
Know then, during this Truce, his Forces be
Arm'd onely for their ease and Luxurie:
You then this Night shall with your Army wait;
I'le give you entrance at the Western Gate.
Then on the East I'le give a false Alarm,
That e're his Party shall have time to Arm,
You shall have forc'd your Passage, won the Town,
Seiz'd the Usurper, and regain'd your Crown.

Camb.
Well, I'le this Night, advancing in their head,
To Susa my Triumphant Forces lead:
None but my Sword my quarrel should decide.

Dar.
Conquest and you, Sir, ever were ally'd.
But, Sir, the breach of Truce a stain will be
To the bright glory of your Victory:
'Twill an Eclipse to your great Fame produce.

Camb.
Why, Sir, was it not I that made the Truce?

Dar.
It was.

Camb.
Then what I made I may destroy:
In this design you must your Swords imploy.

Dar.
When you command, the cause we do not weigh.
You've taught our Swords to Conquer, and obey.

Camb.
See that our entrance be with care prepar'd.
[To Smerd.
We shall not want success, nor you reward.

[Exit Cambyses, Otanes, Darius, and Artaban.
Smerd.
Nought but his death shall for reward suffice;
For when he enters Susa's Walls, he dyes.
'Tis the last Conquest that his Sword shall have,
To win that ground on which he makes his Grave.
Brave Friend.

Prex.
His death shall make our Friendship good
No tyes so strong as what are writ in blood.

[Exeunt.