University of Virginia Library

Scæna 6.

Enter Sasmenos, Lazarus, Cobelitz.
Sa.
O Servia, our Cities are turned flames;
Each stayes to hast his owne and others death:
And as though Heaven conspir'd destruction too,
That raignes downe scalding Sulphure on our heads,
Here one that lyes thicke gasping for his breath,
Is choakt with bloud that runs from's fellowes wounds,
Whilst others for the dead are making Graves,
Themselves are made the coarses that doe fill them!
Nobles, and base, together perish all:
And a drawne sword stickes fast in every rib;
Our stones are dyes Vermillion with our bloud!
Old creatures that are creeping to the graue,
Are thrust on faster!
Infants but in the threshold of their lives,
And thus kickt off, O most disastrous times,
To love our deaths, and make our life our crimes.

Laz.
See, see, the ruines of our goodly Walles,
Our Cities smoake hinders the sight of heaven:
The conquerour yet amaz'd measures out our Townes,
With eyes of terror, and doth scarce beleeve
He hath orecome us; yet among these fires,
Our dead men are denyed their funerall flames:
And those infectious Carkasses doe performe,
A second murder on the rest that live!
And all the hope of safety that we have,
Is now to fixe our flattering lips at's feet:
Mercy (perhaps) may wearied slaughter meet.

Sas.
Wil you doe so? speake for I am determin'd

Cob.
No (worthy Generall) Heaven avert
And arme you with the proofe of better thoughts!
What though a Tyrant strives to terrifie
All Christendome, and would not be beloved?
Let not your feares give impious rage such scope!
As for to bring Religion to prophanesse:
Fortune and Heaven will scorne to try a man,
That hurles his weapons hence and runs away!
How is he worthy of heavens victory;
That, when it frownes, dares not looke up and see?
Me thinks we three are now inviron'd round,
With hosts of Angels, and our powerfull Mars.
Is putting bowes of steele into our hands:
He doth suggest our wrath, and bids us, on!
O what an army 'tis to have a cause
Holy and just; there, there's our strength indeed.
------ Tu mente Labantes,
Dirige nos, dubios: Certo Robore firmâ.
If we must dye, the narrow way to blisse,
Shall be made wide for us, the gate wide ope,
And the spread Pallace entertaines with joy.
Meane time, let's looke like men upon our griefe.
Out frowne fate, Despot, Bulgaria, come!
Turke! once more at thee (Tyrant) mortals must,
Command Heavens favor in a cause so just.

Exeunt.