University of Virginia Library

Enter Cyrus, Histaspas, Chrysandus, with other.
Cyrus.
Ye Persians, Medians, and Hircanians,
Trustie assistans, assisters in this happie war,
Ye see the banded power of Asia,
Whose number ouerspread the Assirian fields
And in their passage dranke maine riuers drie,
By fauour of the gods, and our deuoire,
Are ouerthrowne and scattred through the plaines,
Like Autumne leaues before a Northren winde.
Cresus is foild, and fled to Lydia,
The Arabian prince is whelmde amidst the sands,
And last, the old Assyrian king is slaine.
Now triumph in the fortune of your hands,
Whose fame hath directed these affaires.

Chris.
O Cyrus when I saw the Lydian king.
Cresus that dastard and reproch of Asia,
Shining in armour forgde of Indian gold.
Braue mounted on a prauncer of Eperus,
So shamefully to forsake the field and flie,
I enuied that so cowardly a king,
Should vse so good an armour and a horse.

Cyr.
Chrisandas, like to Cresus be our foes,
Glorious in shew, but cowardly in minde.

Chris.
Cyrus those armes which dastard Cresus were,
And horse of pride and courage past compare,
What heart so base that would deme to fight,
Might I but liue to backe so braue a steed.

Cyr.
Cresus is gone, and gone with him his steed,
This wish of yours Chrisantas is in vaine,
But of two hundred horses of mine owne,
Of gallant rase and courage singular,
Take you the choise and furniture withall,
The bridles bit of massie siluer wrought,
The bosses golde, the reynes of Persian silke,
The saddles all embrodered purple worke,
Armde through with plates, with fine ingrauen golde,
And golden trappers dangling to the ground.

Chris.
So liue my Lord and flourish still,
As I regard this honourable gift.

Cyr.
Now Lords we haue gotten the honor of the day
And with our feet trod downe the Thrasian pride,
While I doe sacrifie for victorie,
and chose the holy aultars of the gods,
Doe you betwixt the armies part the spoiles,
and glad our men with fruits of our conquest.

Ara.
What portion of the golde shall we reserue
To be employed in your highnesse vse?

Cyr.
Araspas none for me, diuide it all,
It pleaseth me to see my souldiers rich.
Exit Cyrus.

Chris.
The Persian hors-men that did giue the charge
Shall haue fiue hundred talents for their share.

Hist.
The Medians that did enforce the fight,
and seconded the Persian men at armes,
Allot to them six hundred arming coates.

Ara.
The archers of Hercania serued so well,
as not to giue them paiment with the rest,
Were open wrong to their approude deserts.

Cbr.
You know that in the sacking of Assyrians tents
we found three thousand Scithians bowes in store,
finisht with quiuers readie to the field,
Let them be lotted to the Hercanians part.

Hist.
And truth Chrisantas you know well,
That bowes and quiuers gree with archers best,
Cyrus himselfe you see refuseth golde,
And onely seekes to make his fellowes rich,
what restes amidst the conquered spoiles,
wherein his highnesse may be gratified?

Ara.
Histaspis there is a proud Assyrian tent,
Wherein the king was wont to sleepe and banket in,
I thinke if that were offered to his hands,
Cyrus would take it in most gracious part.

Chr.
But is the pride and brauerie thereof,
worthie to be presented to our Lord?

Aras.
Asia hath not seene a richer prise,
The couering is of blew Sydonian silke,
Imbrodered all with pearle and precious stones,
They glimmer brighter than the Sunne it selfe,
On euerie point of the pauilion,
There standes a princely top of Phenix plumes,
which trickt with spangles and with siluer belles,
And euerie gentle murmur of the winde,
delights the day with euerie harmonie.
The stakes where with t'is fastened to the ground,
are massie siluer of the purest proofe,
The ropes are all of chrimson silke and golde,
Hung from the top with wrests of Iuorie,
Vnder a Vine where Bacchus bruseth grapes,
and twentie cubits houer in the leaues,
Beleeue me Lords, when I beheld the thing,
The worke appearde so glorious to the eie.

Chr.
Araspas you describe a princely thing,
Worthie to be presented to a king.

Hist.
And here is a tent, though far from such a tent,
This shall be mine, the owner's fled or slaine,

Cri.
O beautie rare, and more than mortall shape,
What goddesse oweth this earthly tabernacle.

Pan.
Nicasia sings while Panthra sits and sighes.
But singing sings of Panthras wretchednes.

Chris.
What are ye Ladie?

Pan.
What I would not be.

Chris.
Faire you are, what would ye more?

Pan.
I would be free.
Ye Persian Lords I am a wofull dame.
Exposed to wretchednesse and fortunes wrath,
And thus I haue resolude you what I am.

Ara.
Ladie, the graces that adorne your presence,
Deserues a fortune milde as is your face.
But howsoeuer Fortune enuies you,
Yet we will vse you honourable still.

Pan.
You vse me then but as you ought to doe.

Chris.
Nay Ladie we may vse you otherwise,
For voluntarie fauours be no debt.

Pan.
But Lords what ere you ought is debt,
you ought to vse me well, and therefore debt

Ara.
Madam, you are a captiue in our hands,
And captiues are not to command the conquerours.

Pan.
No Lords if captiues might command the conquerors,
I would command you to release me hence.
But captiue as I am honour commands,
That you intreate and vse me honourably.

Chris.
Such honour as to captiues doth belong,
Such honour Ladie we intend to you.

Pan.
My sex requireth more then common grace.

Ara.
And eke so doth that liuely face.

Pan.
Let be my vsage as shall please my conqueror,
And now Ile learne to craue with seruile tearmes.
My lords, though captiue, yet I am a Queene,
And wife vnto the absent Susan king.
My lord and heare Assyrian Abradare,
And noble prince and mightie man at armes.
Vpon ambassage of the king of Batria.

Chr.
But madam what persuasion moou'd your mind,
To thrust your self vnto the Assyrian campe.

Pan.
Weying the double fortune of the warres,
And in my thoughts foredreading these mishaps,
What likelier rescue to preuent my harmes,
Then to be garded with a mightie campe.
Since that an armie of vnited hearts,
Is stronger then a fort at brazen walles.

Ara.
Madam, your fal is great and lamentable,
Thus of a Queene a captiue to become,
This rests to shew your princely fortitude,
In bearing these mishaps with patient minde.

Pan.
Philosophy hath taught me to embrace,
A meane and moderation in mishaps,
Long since I learnde to master all affects,
And perturbations that assaile the minde,
Onely I haue not learnde to master chaunce,
yet haue I learnde to scorne the vtmost spight,
Onely the pangue that most torments my thought,
Is absence of my best beloued lord.

Chris.
Learne henceforth to forget your lord,
There liues an other lord to enioy your loue,
Victorious Cyrus he shall be your lord.

Pan.
Victorious Cyrus though I be his thrall,
Shall know my honour is inuincible.

Ara.
But they that once in state of bondage bee.
Must yeeld to hest of others that be free.

Pan.
Lords dreame of me or Cyrus as you please,
Onely this outward person is his thrall,
My minde and honour free and euer shall.

Chris.
For that agree with Cyrus as you may,
Till then Araspas take her to your tent.

Aras.
Come Ladie, you must walke apart with me,

Pan.
So fortune and my destinies agree.

Enter Gobrias and his page.
Go.
Persians conduct me to your generall.

Chr.
What art thou that thus armde with sword and speare,
Dares craue accesse vnto our generall?

Go.
I come to yeeld, bring me to Cyrus tent.

Hist.
Thy habit showes thou art an enemie,
And we may suspect thou meanest but ill,
Therefore if thou wilt yeeld vnarme thy selfe,
And we will bring thee vnto Cyrus tent.

Go.
The Assyrian king whom ye haue put to death,
Making me leader of a thousand horse,
Buckled the armour with his gracious hands,
Nor shall it be vnloosed but by a king.

Hist.
How hautie minded is this conquered man,
Cyrus shall know vpon what tearmes he standes.
Assyrian captaine as thou louest thy life,
Stand not vpon thy guard, but yeeld to vs.

Go.
Smal guard haue I to shield me from your swords,
Most of my region is slaine in fight,
And of a thousand onely these are left,
Whose wounds yet bleeding proues thē faint & weak,
Yet rather will we runne vpon your speares,
Then with dishonour yeeld our weapons,
These if ye iniure vs must be our friends,
And either make vs liue or die like men.

Enter Cyrus.
Cyr.
Of whence art thou that craues accesse to vs?

Go.
By birth great Cyrus an Assyrian,
And of the noblest house in Babylon.
Sometime commander of a thousand horse,
But those thy men haue slaughtered and surprised,
And therefore I haue lost the ample stile,
yet I am mighty Gobrias, rich in reuenues, strong in fortresses
That can command a campe of fighting men,
As resolute (be it said without offence)
As those that had the glorie of the day,
All which with me the gouernor of all,
I yeeld vnto your mightie patronage.

Cyr.
This stout Assyrian hath a liberall looke,
And of my soule is farre from trecherie,
Albeit Gobrias I mistrust thee not,
yet tell me being so wealthie and so strong,
Why rather yeeldst thou to thy enimie,
Then liue with freedome in Assyria.

Gob.
O know my lord, whilest the Assyrian king,
Which in this warre was slaine, enioyed the crowne,
Being highly fauoured of his maiestie,
He sent vnto me for mine onely sonne,
Meaning to grace me with the nuptiall,
Of his faire daughter louely Carmela.
I glad to haue alyance with the king,
Sent him my sonne. Who comming to the court,
Was faire entreated, gently entertained,
And well was he that might be his copere,
For faire he was and full of sweete demeanour.
Pleasant, sharpe, wise and liberall,
And were he not my sonne, I would say more,
Though his remembrance makes me weepe outright.

Cyr.
Noble Assyrian either leaue to weepe,
Or speake no more, Cyrus is full of ruth,
And when a man of thy estate laments,
He cannot chuse but weepe for companie,
Drie vp these teares and tell the rest.

Gob.
Began to grow familiar with my sonne,
And with him rode a hunting in the woods,
where first the hounds put vp a russet beare,
At which the king floong soone his hunting dart,
And missed. But mine threw and pearced his heart.
Then sodainly a Lion did arise,
At whom likewise he let his Iauelin slie,
And hit him not: which when my sonne perceyude,
He ouerthrew the Lion as the beare.
which done, said he, twice haue I throwne and sped,
whereat the prince snatcht from his page a speare,
And in a rage murdered my guiltlesse sonne.
And that (which greeues me more) when he was dead,
Albeit the old king wept most bitterly,
He neither did repent nor shed a teare,
Nor would consent to giue him buriall,
but left him in the field vntill I came,
And tooke his bodie in these aged armes,
which eke for griefe made me to let him fall,
And then a fresh made him to bleed againe,
And me to weepe vpon his naked breast,
Oh iudge my lord, if you haue had a sonne,
How heauily I brooke his timelesse death.
Oh iudge my lord, whether that I haue cause
To offer seruice to that murtherer,
On whom I cannot looke, but in his face
as in a glasse I see my slaughtered sonne.

Cyr.
Gobrius thou hast iust cause to reuolt,
And we to trust thy welcome vnto vs,
And for the thousand horse which thou hast lost,
we will requite them with a greater gift,
be thou lieutenant of the Archanians.

Gob.
I humblie thanke your royall maiestie,
And here in presence of the Persian lords,
adopt you heire of all my prouinces,
My holdes and castels, villages and townes,
Conditionally that I may be reuenged,
On this archtyrant murderer of my sonne.
Sauing one daughter I haue neuer a child,
And she endued with iewels, plate and golde,
shall be bestowed as you my lord thinke best.

Cyr.
Assirian I haue captaines worthie here,
She shall be matched as beseemes a princes borne,
And for reuenge vpon the Assirian king,
We will girt in Babylon with our high host,
Or either starue them with a lingring siege,
Or rip his bowels with our Persian swords,
But in the meane time frolicke in our tent,
Histaspis lead the Assyrian to our campe.
And entertaine him as beseemeth a prince,
Armuchus and Chrisantus follow him.
Araspas, as I lately gaue in charge
Is all the spoile diuided equally?

Ara.
It is my Lord, and euerie souldier pleased,
Where is enclosed a iewell of such worth,
As Asia hardly can affoord the like.
The Susian king stout Abradates Queene,
A woman so richly imbellished
with beautie and perfection of the minde,
As neuer any mortall creature was,
Her haire as radiant as is Tagis sand,
And softer than the streame on which it runnes,
Her lillie cheekes all died with ruddie blush,
Castes such reflection to the standers by,
As doth the vnion of ten thousand sunnes.
Through her transparant necke the aire doth play,
And makes it fairer then a Christall glasse,
And from her eyes it seemes nature herselfe,
Bids euerie starre receiue his proper light.
For with her glaunce she casteth such a brightnesse,
As makes the night more brighter than the day.
And day more fairer than is Eliziur.
But when she talkes so pleasant is her voice,
As were she blacker then the pitchie night,
She would entise the hardest massagite.
Or wildest Scythian in your highnesse campe.
And when she lookes vpon you, were she dumbe
Her beautie were in stead of eloquence.
And had she neither louelinesse nor wit,
The harmonie she makes would rauish you,
She weepes and plaies while both her handmaids sing.
And sighes at euerie straine vsing that note,
Which Orpheus sings for Eruditus.
with wringed hands her waiting maids keepe time,
Vpon their mournefull breasts, as were we flint,
we could not chuse but melt to heare their songs,
wherefore my lord comfort this captiue dame.
And with your presence comfort her distresse.

Cyr.
Araspas wouldest thou haue me visit her,
when by her beautie I may be enthralled?

Ara.
Your Grace may looke on her, and yet not loue.

Cyr.
Dost thou not thinke that loue is violent?

Ara.
Nay rather voluntarie my gracious lord,
you know that womans beautie is like fire,
And fire doth alwayes burne each thing alike,
Therefore if nature were of such great power,
Should euerie man by beautie be enflamed?
But beautious things are not in equall powers,
For some loue that which others do abstaine.
Either for feare or loue, to proue this true,
The sister of the brother is not loued,
The daughter of the father not desired,
And yet some one loues any of them both.

Cyr.
If loue be voluntarie as thou saiest,
why cannot louers leaue it when they will?

Ara.
They may.

Cyr.
Haue you not seene them weepe and waile for death?
Emptie their purse of coine, their braine of wit,
Sending both gifts and letters to their loues?

Ara.
They yeeld too much vnto affections.
T'is follie and not beautie makes them die.

Cyr.
Men are in folly when they are in loue,
Vrge me no more, I will not visite her.
For by the eie loue slips into the heart,
Making men idle, negligent.
Nothing can more dishonour warriours,
Then to be conquered with a womans looke.
Araspas I resigne my part to thee,
Thou shalt be keeper of that Susan Queene,
Vse her as fits a woman of such birth,
Excuse me for not comming to her tent,
Bid her be merrie with her singing maides,
And say that Cyrus will entreate her faire.

Exeunt.
Musicke.