University of Virginia Library

Scena prima.

Emperour, Hungary, Questenberg.
Emp.
Vext with so many cares, so many mischiefs,
That doe like Hidra's dreadfull heads increase,
By cutting off, as billowes follow billowes,
Succeed each other with that eager violence,
Our weary Eagles know not where to perch,
But flag their sickly wings: wer't not irreligious,
I should capitulate with the powers divine,
And tax them of injustice; my whole raigne
Has been a long and one continued trouble;
And if blest peace with her faire beames did e're
Shine on our Empire, 'twas but like a faire
Deceitfull wind, courting the ships out of the harbor,
Into the maine to drowne them: but the mother
Of a more horrid warfare, that I feare as
I found the Wreathe Imperiall drown'd in blood,
So I in blood must leave it.

Quest.
Have good hope Sir,
Tides then approach their full height, when their ebbe
Has been at lowest; the most hideous tempests,
Which seem'd to threat the ruine of the world,
Bing usher'd in by thunder and hot lightning,
Are soonest past, there's nothing violent
Can boast of perpetuity; our fortunes
Are not so desperate, as our feares present them:
We've hands and hearts left yet, that dare oppose
The inhumane Traytor, and our causes justice
Assures us, if we cannot live victorious,
We shall dye nobly.

Hung.
Man, my royall Father
Is not himselfe, when he beholds
Events through the quicke perspective of feare,
Which shewes him dangers at remotest distance,
As clearest and his most perspicuous obiects.
Suppose this traitor in his Giant-reach
Fathome ev'n heaven it selfe, yet there are bolts
To strike him into earth for his ambition,
And make his memory and name, all, save his treason,
For ever to be forgotten.

Emp.
That which most
Does drive my tortur'd soule into affrights,
Is, that I see we'r false among our selves:
The faithlesse Souldiers daily doe in troupes,
Fly from our Ensignes to the Traytors Campe:
What cause have we then but t'expect sad ruine?
When those who should be our security,
Doe prove our greatest enemies; our Guard,
Our feare and terror, they all looke
On him, as superstitious Indians on the Sunne,
With adoration; on me, with contempt,
Or (but at best) with pitty.

Quest.
Mighty Cæsar,
To doubt an ill before it fall upon us,
'Mongst valiant and resolved soules is counted
A point of cowardise: Great Spirits ever
Should be above their fates; good Sir retreat
Into that fortresse of your minde,
Your resolution, call it up to guard,
Your soule from timorous thoughts:
Are you the man have sway'd
The Roman Empire foure and twenty yeeres,
With that successe against your forraigne foes,
Your very name more then your forces vanquish'd,
To let a Traytor fright you: good my Lord
Let's draw forth new battalias to the Field,
Awake the Drum and Trumpet, summon up
The very last hopes of our weaken'd strength,
'Gainst this insulting traytor; very infants
Will on the sudden grow up able men,
And fight in this brave quarrell.

Hung.
Heaven it selfe
Will arme on our side, and with certaine vengeance,
Pursue the inhumane monster: why? to dye,
(As that's the worst can happen) in this cause,
Were a religious martyrdome: I am your son Sir,
And what your fortunes are, good or disastrous,
Mine has on them dependance; by my hopes, I doe
So little waigh the glorious traytors pride,
I thinke him worthy scarce my meanest thought,
And rest assur'd, ere long, I shall behold
This fearefull meteor, that would be a Star,
And does affright us with his hideous blaze,
Like a vaine Comet drop his fading rayes.

Emp.
Your comforts
Come as in droughts the elementall dew
Does on the earth, it wets, but leaves no moysture,
To give the sear'd plants growth: But yesternight
We'd certaine information, that our forces
Led by Matthias Gallas, were o'rethrowne
By Saxon Waymar, and his son young Fredricke:
Who had they knowne as well how to pursue,
As gaine a victory, and made a sudden
Onslaught upon Vienna, their's; not ours
Had been the Wreathe Imperiall. Now your newes sir.

Int Messenger.
Messen.
Letters from Colonell Lesle sir, from Egers.

Emp.
This is our latest hope; he writes me word,
That the Arch-traytor, and his prime confederates,
Last night arriv'd at Egers, and assures me
Of their immediate ruine: Well Colossus,
You'd best stand firme, unshaken as a rocke,
Whose feet the fierce waves striving to trip up,
Doe 'gainst its hard hoofes dash themselves to pieces,
Or thou wilt fall unpittied, fall to be
The scorne of story, the contempt and by-word
To all posterity; let's in my Lords:
This law the Heavens inviolably keepe,
Their justice well may slumber, but ne're sleepe.

Exeunt.