 | The raging Tvrke, or Baiazet the second |  |
Scene Tertia.
Enter Caigubus Achmetes sonne.Caigub.
If euer man lou'd sorrow wisht to grieue
Father I doe for thee. Could I depriue
My senses of each object, but thy death,
Then should I ioy to sigh away my breath:
Be Godhead to my griefe, then shall these eyes
With tributary teares bedeck thy shrine:
And thus I doe invoke thee: nimble Ghost
What euer orbe of Heauen, what euer coast
Affords thee present mansion, quickly thence
Flit hither, and present vnto my sense
Thy selfe a feeling substance, let me see,
Acknowledge and admire thy Maiesty.
Put off that ayry thinnesse which denies
Me to behold thee with these duller eyes,
Then shall they sending downe a powerfull floud,
Rence thy colde members from each drop of bloud,
And so returne thee back, that thou may'st soare
Vp to the skies, much purer then before.
Had the iust course of nature wrought thee hence,
I would haue made the gods know their offence,
And backe restore thy soule: but thou art dead,
And 'twas a fiercer hand that clipt thy thread.
Fiercer, and bolder, which did euer thriue
By mischiefe, and once coffinde thee aliue
Vp in deaths mantle, but then would not vse
Such open violence, nor durst abuse
One of such sacred worth, till fury struck
His reason dead, and made his treacherous hand
Creepingly stab thee, both vnseene and foule,
As if he would haue stolne away thy soule.
Enter Isaack.
But oh!
But oh indeede!
Caigub.
Why what?
Isaack.
As bad
A stroke attends thee as thy Father had:
Princes suspition is a flame of fire,
Exhal'd first from our manners, and by desire
Of rule is nourish'd, fed, and rores about
Till the whole matter dye, and then goes out.
Caigub.
Vnfold a Scene of murders: Fates worke on,
Wee'le make a path to Heauen, and being gone
Downe from the lofty towers of the skies
Throw thunder at the Tyrant; will he presse
The earth with waight of slaught'red carcasses?
Let him grow vp in mischiefe, still shall her wombe
Gaping, reserue for him an empty tombe.
We doe but tread his path; and Bassa since
It stands vpon thee, now to cure thy Prince
Of his distemper'd lunacie, goe fetch
The instrument of death, whilst I a wretch
Expect thy sad returne.
Isaack.
I goe; and could
It stand with mine alleageance, sure I should
Imploy my seruice to a better end,
Then to disrobe the Court of such a friend.
Exit.
Caigub.
He that is iudg'd, downe from a steepy hill
To drop vnto his death, and trembling still
Expects one thence to push him, such a slaue
Doth not deserue to liue, nor's worth a graue.
Then Lachisis, thou that deuid'st the threed
Of breath, since this dayes Sun must see me dead,
Thus I'le preuent thy paine, thus I'le out-runne
My Fate; and in this stroke thy worke is done.
Stabs himselfe.
Eternall mouer, thou that whirl'st about
The skies in circular motion heare me out
What I command, see that without controule
Thou make Heauen cleare, to entertaine my soule,
And let the nimble spirits of the ayre
Print me a passage hence vp to thy chaire,
Laugh at obsequious base mortality.
Vanish my soule, enioy, embrace thy Fate
Stabs himselfe. dyes.
Thus, thus thou mount'st aboue a Tyrants hate.
Enter Isaack with executioners.
Isaack.
We are preuented; see the fates command
False deedes, must dye though by the Actors hand.
Returne to Baiazet, and beare that corpes.
Exeunt.
So now I am alone, nor need I feare
To breath my thoughts out to the silent ayre;
My conscience will not heare me, that being deafe
I may ioy freely: first thy hated breath
Achmetes vanisht, next Caigubus fell,
Thus we clime Thrones, whilst they drop downe to hell.
The glorious eye of the all-seeing sunne,
Shall not behold (when all our plots are done)
A greater Prince then Selymus; 'tis hee
Must share with Ioue an equall Maiesty.
But for my selfe his Enginer I'le stand
Aboue mortality, and with a hand
Of power, dash all beneath me into dust,
If they but crosse the current of my lust.
What I but speake, 'tis Oracle and Law,
Thus I will rule and keepe the world in awe.
Selym.
Noble assistant.
Enter Selymus, Mesithes, Mustapha, Asmehemedes.
Isaack.
Happy Selymus.
Selym.
'Tis thou must make me so, for should I stay
Wayting my Fathers pleasure, I might stand
Gazing with enuie at my Brothers pride,
My selfe lying prostrate, euen beneath their feete.
Townes, Cities, Countries, and what ere so euer
Can giue high thoughts content, are freely theirs,
I onely like a spend thrift of my yeares
Idle my time away, as if some god
Had raz'd my name out of the roule of Kings,
Which if he haue, then Isaack be thy hand
As great as his, to print it in againe
Though Baiazet say nay,
No more: I will;
An Empire be our hopes; that to obtaine
Wee'le watch, plot, fight, sweat, and be colde againe.
Exeunt.
| The raging Tvrke, or Baiazet the second | |