 | The Sophy |  |
[Scena Prima.]
Enter Abdall and Moratt.Mor.
My Lord, you have good intelligence, what newes.
From the Army, any certainty
Of their designe or strength?
Abd.
We know not their designe: But for their strength,
The disproportion is so great, we cannot, but
Expect a fatall consequence.
Mor.
How great my Lord?
Abd.
The Turkes are fourescore thousand Foot,
And fiftie thousand Horse. And we in the whole
Exceed not forty thousand.
Mor.
Mee-thinkes the Prince should know
That Judgement's more essentiall to a Generall,
Then Courage, if he prove victorious
'Tis but a happie rashnesse.
Abd.
But if he lose the battaile, 'tis an error
Beyond excuse, or remedy, considering
That halfe the lesser Asia will follow
The Victors fortune.
Mor.
'Tis his single vertue
And terror of his name, that walls us in
From danger, were he lost, the naked Empire
Would be a prey expos'd to all Invaders.
Abd.
But is't not necessary
The King should know his danger?
2
To tell him of so great a danger,
Were but to draw a greater on our selves:
For though his eye is open as the mornings,
Towards lusts and pleasures, yet so fast a lethargie
Has seiz'd his powers towards publike cares and dangers
He sleepes like death.
Abd.
Hee's a man of that strange composition,
Made up of all the worst extremities
Of youth, and age.
Mor.
And though
He feeles the heats of youth, and colds of age,
Yet neither tempers, nor corrects the other;
As if there were an Ague in his nature
That still inclines to one extreame.
Abd.
But the Caliph, or Haly, or some that know
His softer houres, might best acquaint him with it.
Mor.
Alas, they shew him nothing
But in the glasse of flatterie, if any thing
May beare a shew of glory, fame, or greatnesse,
'Tis multiplyed to an immense quantitie,
And stretch't even to Divinitie:
But if it tend to danger, or dishonour,
They turne about the Perspective, and shew it
So little, at such distance, so like nothing,
That he can scarce discerne it.
Abd.
'Tis the fate of Princes, that no knowledge
Comes pure to them, but passing through the eyes
And eares of other men, it takes a tincture
From every channell; And still beares a rellish
Of Flatterie, or private ends.
Mor.
But danger and necessitie
Dare speake the truth.
Abd.
But commonly
They speake not till it is too late:
And for Haly,
He that shall tell him of the Princes danger,
But tells him that himselfe is safe.
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