University of Virginia Library

Scene. 1.

Enter, The two Kings of Lydia and Cilicia, Zenarchus sonne to the Cilician, Tymethes, sonne to the Lydian, Mazeres, Fidelio, Amorpho, Sextorio, Lodovicus, when they come unto the Throne, the Tyrant of Cilicia puts by the old King, and ascends alone: all snatch out their swords, Mazeres crownes him, the old King and Tymethes stand amazed.
Florish.
Arm.
Speranza.

Omn.
Long live Armatrites King of Lydia.

King.
How?

Arm.
Art thou amaz'd old King, and all thy people
Mutually labouring in a fit of wonder?
Start from those pale dreames, we will prove all truë,
Who wins the day the brightnesse is his due.

King.
King of Cilicia.

Arm.
I and Lydia now,
Bate us not our Titles, we and ours
Have sweate and dearely earn'd them in our flesh.

King.
It savors not of noblenesse nor vertue,
Religion, loyalty, heaven or natures lawes
So most perfidiously to enter, Tyrant,
Where was, expected honesty and honour,
Assistance from a friend, not a dissembler,
A Royall neighbour and no politique foe.
What worse than this could th'enemy performe?
And when shines friendship best but in a storme?

Arm.
Why, doating Lydia, is it of no vertue
To bring our Army hither and put in venture
Our person and their lives upon our foes?
Wasting our courage, weakning our best forces;
Impoverishing the heart of our munition,
And having wonne the honour of the battaile
To throw our glory on unworthy spirits,
And so unload victories honey thighes
To let Droanes seede?

King.
Will nothing satisfie but all?

Arm.
Without all, nothing.
The Kingdome and not under suites our blood,
Flyes are are not Eagles preyes nor thankes our food:
And for Cilicia our other spheare,
Our sonne Zenarchus let thy beames move there.

Zen.
Rather, my Lord, let me move pitty here,
Vnto that reverend fate-afflicted King;
For whom, with his disconsolate sonne (my friend
And plighted Brother) I here kneele as Sutor.
Oh my most Noble Father, still retaine
The seale of honour and religion,
A Kingdome rightly possessed by course,
Containes more joy than is usurpt by force.

Arm.
The Boy hath almost chang'd us.

Maz.
He cooles—my Lord, remember you are possess'd.

Arm.
What, with the Devill?

Max.
The Devill! the Dukedome, the Kingdome, Lydia.
All pant under your Scepter; the sway's yours,
Be not bought out with words, a Kingdome's deare,
Kisse fortune, keepe your minde, and keepe your state,
Y'are laught at if you prove compassionate.

Arm.
Thankes to Mazeres, he hath refresht our spirits,
Zenarchus, 'tis thy death if thou proceede,
Thy words we threate, rise silent or else bleed.

King.
Who can expect but blood where Tyrants governe?

Arm.
We are not yet so cruell to thy fortune
As was Lapyrus, thy owne Nephew, trecherous;
That stole upon thy life, beseig'd thee basely,
And had betray'd thee to thine enemies anger
Had we not beate his strength to his owne throate;
And made him shrinke before us, all can tell
In him twas monstrous, tis in us but well;
A tricke of warre, advantage, policy, nay rather recompence;
There's more deceite in peace, tis common there
T'unfold young heires, the old may well stand bare.
You have your life be thankefull, and tis more
Than your perfidious Nephew would consent to,
Had he surpriz'd you first, your fate is cast,
The sooner you be gone 'twill prove the safer.

Kin.
On thee Lapyrus, and thy treacheries, fall
The heavie burthen of an old mans curse.

Fid.
Your Queene with her two Infants fled the Citty
Affrighted at this treason and new warres.

Kin.
Newes of more sadnesses than the Kingdomes losse,
She fled upon her houre, for had she stayd
Sh' had either dyed, beene banish'd, or betrayd.
I have some servants here?

Arma.
All these my Lord.

Kin.
All these? not all; you did forget, I am not worth the flattering, I am done,
Old and at set, honour the rising Sunne.
If any for love serve me, which is he?
Now let him shame the world and follow me.

Fid.
That's I, my Lord.

Amor.
And I.

Kin.
What two of you?
Let it be enrould
Two follow a King when he is poore and old.

Exit cum suis.
Sex.
Farewell King. Ile play the Flounder, keepe me to my tyde.

Lod.
And so will I, this is the flowing side.

Maz.
Those men are yours, my Lord.

Arm.
We'le grace them chiefely,
Waite for imployment, place and eminence,
The like to each that to our bounty flies,
For he that falls to us shall surely rise.
His sonne Tymethes little frights our thoughts,
He's young, and given to pleasure, not to plots.

Maz.
Your Grace defines him right, he may remaine,
The Prince your sonne, bindes him in a love-chaine;
There's little feare of him.

Arm.
Their loves are deare,
Base Boy, he leaves his father to live here.

Maz.
His presence sets a glosse on your attempts,
They have their luster from him.

Arm.
He's their Countenance,
Twas well observ'd and follow'd, he shall stay,
Mazeres, thou armest us that wonne the day.

Exit, all but Zenarchus and Tymethes.
Zen.
None but Mazeres, that Court flye, could on
The vertues of the King blow such corruption,
Man falls to vice in minutes, runnes, and leapes,
But unto goodnesse he takes wary steppes.
How soone a Tyrant? why Tymethes, Friend, Brother?

Tym.
Peace, prithee peace, you undoe me if you wake me,
I hope I'me in a dreame.

Zen.
Would twere so happy?

Tym.
No! why then wake Begger; but the comfort is
I have brave seeming kinsemen: why Zenarchus,
Tis not the losse of Kingdome, Fathers banishment,
Vncertainty of Mother, afflicts me
With halfe the violence that those cross'd affections,
Betwixt your Princely Sister and our selfe,
Who upon fortune, or her Fathers frowne,
Erecting the whole Fabricke of her love,
Either now will not, or else dare not love me.

Zen.
Chance alters not affection, see in me
That hold thee deare still spight of Tyrannie:
Fate does but dim the glasse of a right man,
He still retaines his worth, doe what fate can.
Change faith for drosse? I will not call her sister,
That shall hate vertue for affliction.
Enter Amphridote.
And here she comes to cleare those doubts her selfe.

Amp.
Strange alteration! will the King my Father
Goe to his grave a Ruffian and a Treacher?
In his gray heires turne Tyrant to his friends?
Wasting his penitentiall times in plots,
Acting more sinnes than he hath teares to weepe for them?

Tym.
Alas Lady, fortune hath chang'd my state, can you love a begger?

Am.
Why fortune hath the least cōmand ore love,
She cannot drive Tymethes from himselfe,
And tis Tymethes, not his painted glories,
My soule in her accomplish'd wish desires.

Zen.
What say you now sir?

Tim.
Nothing but admire
That heaven can frame a creature like a woman
And she be constant, seeing most are common.

Zen.
Put by your wonder sir, she proves the same,
I spake her vertues for her ere she came,
And when my father dyes I here doe vow,
This kingdome now detained wrongfully
Shall then returne unforcedly to you,
In part thy dowry, but in all thy due.

Tym.
Vnmatched honest young man.

Enter Mazeres observing.
Zen.
Come, let your lips meete though your fortunes wander.

Maz.
Ha! taste lips so bounteously with a begger?

Zen.
Thus in firme state let your affections rest,
Time, that makes wretched, makes the same men blest.

Exeunt.
Maz.
What's here? either the Princes out of charities rarenesse
Are pleas'd to lay aside their glories, and refresh
The gasping fortunes of a desperate wretch;
Or if for larger bounties I was mad
T'advise the King for his remaining here
That had beene banish'd, and with him my feare:
I love the Princesse, and the King allowes it,
If he should prove a rivall to my love,
I have argued faire for his abiding here:
My plots shall worke his ruine, if one faile
Ile rayse a second, for I must prevaile:
I that us'd policie to cause him stay
Can shew like Art to rid my feares away.

Exit.