 | The raging Tvrke, or Baiazet the second |  |
Scena Prima.
Enter Achomates alone, with a bloody sword in his hand.Achom.
An honour'd Legate? an Ambassadour?
As if that title like Medæas charme
Could stay the vntam'd spirit of my wrath,
Had he bin sent a messenger from heauen,
And spoke in thunder to the slauish world;
If he had roar'd one voice, one sillable
Crosse to my humour, I'de a searcht the depth
Of his vnhallowed bosome, and turne out
His heart, the prophane seate of sawcy pride.
Slaine an Ambassador? no lesse: 'tis done,
And 'twas a noble slaughter, I conceiue
A joy ineffable to see my sword
Bath'd in a blood so rare, so precious,
As an Ambassadours; must we be tolde
Of times delayes, and opportunities?
That the base soldier hath gaine-sayd our blisse?
Thought Baiazet, his son so cold, so dull,
So jnnocently blockish, as to heare
The people to deny me? we contemne
With strange defiance Baiazet, and them.
| The raging Tvrke, or Baiazet the second | |