 | The Tragedy of Croesvs |  |
Scene 1.
Crœsus.Adrastus.
What fancies strange with terrour strike my soule,
The tortur'd captive of distrustfull feares?
Huge cares (suggesting harme) my joyes controul,
Whose minde some comming crosse charactred beares;
And credulous suspition (too too wise)
To fortifie my feares doth meanes invent;
Whil'st sudden trouble doth my sprite surprise,
A presage sad which boasts some bad event;
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“Hath by inheritance an heavenly power,
“Which some fore-knowledge gives of ill, and good,
“But not the meanes to scape a fatall houre;
“Though with this mortall vaile, when made halfe blinde,
“Not well fore-seeing what each time forth brings,
“Yet it communicates unto the minde
“In cloudy dreames true (though mysterious) things;
“Imagination wonderfull in force,
“The judgement oft foiles with confusion so,
“That (then they prove things presupposed worse)
“Ere time distress'd, man multiplies his woe:
“For as the shadow seemes more monstrous still,
“Then doth the substance whence the shape it takes;
“So the conjecture of a threatned ill,
“More then it selfe some to be troubled makes;
This alteration too seemes more then strange,
Which suddenly so moved hath my minde.
I see (more then I thought) all states may change,
“When heaven pursues, th'earth no defence can finde;
My soule all pleasure is already loathing,
This hath indeed so deep impression left,
A dreame, a fancy, froth, a shadow, nothing
Hath all my mirth even in a moment reft.
Adrast.
Whence (mighty Soveraigne) can this change proceed,
Which doth obscure the rayes of Princely grace?
Those who are school'd in woe, may clearly reade
A mighty passion written in your face;
And (if a stranger may presume so farre)
What friend is false, or who are fear'd as foes?
For I imagine in what state you are:
A secret sympathie imparting woes;
Two strings in divers Lutes set in accord,
(Some say) th'one onely touch'd both give a sound;
Even so souls tun'd to griefe, the like afford,
Whose airie motions mutually do wound.
“Crœ.
No doubt, it must disburden much the minde,
“A Secretary in distresse to have;
“Who by his owne, anothers griefe can finde,
“Where glad mindes scorne what they cannot conceive:
And I (Adrastus) would the cause declare,
With which I so torment my soule in vaine,
But yet I blush to tell my foolish care:
The fond illusion of a drowsie braine.
Adrast.
As bodies temper'd are, or souls inclin'd,
All dreames by night th'imagination makes,
Or else th'impression thoughts worke in the minde,
By which (when wakening) one most travell takes.
Crœ.
By sleepe arrested as o're-come by death,
In Natures bosome I imbrac'd true rest,
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Lifes faculties sleep for a time supprest;
Then whil'st the sprite most pow'rfull did remaine,
Since least distress'd by this terrestriall part.
Adrast.
Souls at such times their strength so strongly straine,
That oft their burdens as astonish'd start.
Crœ.
To rarifie the aire from vapours pow'rs,
When first Aurora rose from Tithons bed,
Ere Phœbus blushing stole from Thetis bowres,
This apprehension in my braine was bred:
I onely have two sonnes, and th'one (you see)
The signe of Natures indignation beares,
And from his birth-day dumbe is dead to me,
Since he can give no comfort to mine cares;
The other Atis (all my lifes delight)
In whom the treasures of my soule are kept,
I thought (vaine be my thought) in the twi-light,
(I know not whether yet I wak't or slep't)
Whil'st he was sporting, void of worldly cares,
And not in danger, which could threaten death,
A pointed toole of iron fell unawares;
And from his body banish did his breath;
Whil'st the pale carkase did upbraid mine eyes,
The horrour of the sight my sense re-call'd,
Which when I thinke of, yet my courage dyes,
Such an exceeding feare my sprite appall'd;
This touch'd my state so much, it hath me mov'd
To match my Sonne in marriage at this time
With vertuous Cœlia, whom he dearely lov'd,
That both might reape the pleasure of their prime;
And if the heavens his o're-throw have decreed
By destiny which cannot be revok'd,
So may we have behinde some of his seed,
Ere in his blossome all our hopes be choak'd;
Thus, ere his soule lodge in the lightlesse shade,
Some of his off-spring may content my minde,
“I cannot hold him altogether dead,
“Who leaves his Image in some one behinde;
And though we do what ever seemes the best
To disappoint those but surmiz'd annoyes,
Yet for all this my minde hath never rest,
Some secret terrour doth disturbe my joyes.
Adrast.
Ah (Sir) if such a dreamed ill as this,
Hath plung'd your soule even in the depths of griefe,
Unhappie I, who waile a thing that is,
Whil'st hope (though rack'd) dare promise no reliefe;
Though all those dreadfull fancies took effect,
(Which heavy chance th'almighty Iove with-hold)
None can compare them, no, in no respect
With those mis-fortunes which my state enfold:
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You shall but waile his death, and not your crime;
The heavens of me my brothers bloud demand,
His fate, my fault, mourne must I all my time.
Crœ.
In what strange forme could this disaster fall,
From which there flow salt flouds of just distresse?
Tell on at length the fatall cause of all,
“A greater griefe makes one forget the lesse.
Adrast.
My sorrows ground I smother'd still till now,
As too offensive food for dainty eares,
But since of such discourse you do allow,
Ile tell a tale that may move stones to teares;
Of Phrygian Princes my great Father come,
Had in my growing age a tender care,
That all my education might become
One whom he might for mighty hopes prepare;
As yet foure lustres scarcely had begun
To grace my witness'd sex with blooming cheeks,
When I (fond youth) that lab'rinth could not shunne,
Whence backe in vaine the straying Entrer seeks.
I lov'd, O fatall love, unlovely fate!
The vertuously faire, yet fairest Dame
That ever was enshrin'd in soules conceit,
Or ditties gave to grace the sounds of fame;
Straight were my fancies to her beauties ty'd,
“None can paint passions, but in feeling mindes,
I burn'd, freez'd, doubted, hop'd, despair'd, liv'd, dy'd,
With actions chang'd as oft as Autumnes windes;
Yet many conflicts past 'twixt hopes and feares,
To feast, at least to nurce my starv'd desires;
She granted had a truce unto my teares,
And temper did with equall flames my fires:
For as she was the most esteemed Saint,
Whose image Love erected in my minde,
So when her eares had harbour'd once my plaint,
It pitie first, and then did favour finde,
But ah triumphing in mine owne conceit
As one whose love his Lady did preferre,
I was corrivall'd (O disastrous fate!)
By one who lov'd, but was not lov'd by her,
He looking as I look'd, saw what I saw,
Saw Natures wonder, and the worlds delight,
And straight as that blinde god (blinde guide) did draw,
Still (like a Lizard) liv'd upon her sight.
Then labour'd he that Iewell straight to wonne,
Whose matchlesse worth he priz'd above his breath,
And loath'd all light which flow'd not from that Sunne,
As life without her had beene worse then death;
Yea, Fortune seem'd to favour his desire,
And where to build high hopes did give him ground.
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That she might furnish physick for his wounds;
Of my distracted thoughts strange was the strife,
Who threatned thus with eminent mishap,
Was like to lose a thing more deare then life,
Whil'st others striv'd my treasure to entrap;
The man who sought my joyes to undermine,
I could not justly wish his state o're-throwne,
Nor blame the sprite that sympathiz'd with mine;
I envi'd not his lot, but wail'd mine owne.
Now in my breast a mighty rage did raigne,
Which forc'd my soule with inward wounds to bleed,
Some fancies fear'd what once his love might gaine,
Since it was possible that he might speed,
Then others call'd her constancy to minde,
Which would not yeeld by such assaults though prov'd,
Yet forc'd to feare the frailty of her kinde,
“A hearing woman may in time be mov'd;
Thus toss'd with doubts amidst a deep of woe,
Which with suspition did my joyes supplant,
I blam'd the thoughts that durst accuse her so,
As vertues patterne could one vertue want;
And, nor I hop'd, his toils no further wrought,
“(Affliction oft affection doth enflame)
She of her sex who was the wonder thought,
Would thus not wrong the glory of her name,
Though in my absence they had oft assai'd,
That from her minde they might have me remov'd,
(The Sunne burns hotest when his beames are stay'd)
The more they cross'd her love, the more she lov'd;
For finding that delay no end affords,
And how faire Generals onely flow'd from Art,
She did upbraid him with disdainefull words,
To raze those hopes that had abus'd his heart;
“Love is a joy which upon paine depends,
“A drop of sweet, drown'd in a sea of sowres;
“What folly doth begin, oft fury ends,
“They hate for ever, who have lov'd for houres:
When all his arguments prov'd of no force,
Straight with disdaine his soule in secret burn'd,
And what he thought was ill, to make farre worse,
That Apostate to furie favour turn'd;
Through love preposterous procreating hate,
His thoughts amongst themselves could not agree,
Whil'st what was best he deeply did debate,
To see her dead, or then enjoy'd by me:
What (said he) when he first had mus'd a space,
(So hard it is to quench affections fires)
Shall I disfigure that Angelike face,
And cloud those beauties which the world admires?
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To whom I vows, and prayers did impart?
To whom I sacrifiz'd each secret thought,
And on her beauties altar burn'd my heart?
Or shall I see her in anothers pow'r,
And in his bosome laid, upbraid my losse,
Whil'st both with scornfull smiles; then death more sowre,
To point me out for sport, report my crosse?
That sight which sometime did me sweetly charme,
Should it become a cause of griefe to me?
No, none who lives shall glory in my harme,
Since she will not be mine, she shall not be.
The hatefull lover having vow'd her death,
Did with a cup of poyson drowne my joyes;
The fairest body from the sweetest breath
Was parted thus (O ocean of annoyes!)
That Monster Fame, whose many mouthes and eares
Must know, but not conceale a rare thing long,
And prodigall of ill, most chiefly beares
The worst news first, inform'd me of this wrong:
For neighbouring neare the most unhappy part,
That had beene spoyl'd of such a noble guest,
As death had hers, the furies seiz'd my heart,
Whose paine did spring from that which bred her rest;
How huge a weight did first confound my soule
No tongue can tell; it still my minde torments,
Rage did of griefe the outward signes controll:
“When great windes blow the fire, the smoak worst vents;
Whil'st generous furie did disguise my griefe,
I ranne transported with a mighty rage,
Bent (by revenge, or death to get reliefe)
A tragicke actor for a bloudy stage:
For I was come no sooner to the place,
Whereas I thought the Murtherer to have found,
But I did meet (O ruine and disgrace!)
Too deare a friend to catch an enemies wound;
Ah! passions dimn'd mine eyes, wrath led my hand,
I was no more my selfe, Griefe had me kill'd;
The first by Night, who did before me stand,
(As one whose breast with rage Alecto fill'd)
By chance encount'ring, ere he spake a word,
I bath'd his bosome with a crimson floud,
And in his breast did drowne the cruell sword,
That in anothers body drank my bloud;
But when a Torch had partly rob'd the night,
Proud of suppos'd revenge (ah bitter gaine)
I saw, I knew, black knowledge, cruell sight,
My brother was the man, whom I had slaine;
O bitter losse, which nothing can repaire!
My soule with two such monstrous deeds annoy'd,
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Gall'd, toss'd, burn'd, dash'd, astonish'd, and destroy'd;
The thought of my offence doth grieve me most,
Yet am I sometime by loves verdict cleans'd;
And straight my brothers violated ghost,
By dreadfull dreames doth bragge to be reveng'd.
Crœ.
Now whil'st this great disaster did occurre,
What had the author of your anguish done?
Adrast.
He having heard this lamentable stirre,
Whom self-accusing thoughts convicted soone,
Straight (wounded by a wonderfull remorse)
Led by mad love, or desp'rate feare to death,
He bent to follow her, or dreading worse,
(Stab'd by himselfe) dy'd to defraud my wrath.
Crœ.
Those strange mishaps your enemies eyes must weet,
And force compassion from your greatest foe,
Since many monstrous circumstances meet
To make a horrid harmony in woe;
“But what doth touch ones selfe, most force doth finde,
“For ills when felt, then heard, griefe more abounds;
This extasie hath so o're-whelm'd my minde,
A melancholy huge all mirth confounds;
“Yet such disasters past, we must omit,
“At least no more immoderately lament,
“And as for those which are but comming yet,
Use ordinary meanes them to prevent.
Adrast.
No wonder (Sir) though by all means you strive,
From dangerous actions Atis to restraine.
Crœ.
I will unto his youth attendance give,
Which in my age may guerdon'd be againe;
If it be possible for mortall states
To strive against the Starres, and be more strong;
I Fortune must unarme, and crosse the fates,
By barring both all meanes to do me wrong:
I have commanded under paine of death,
That no such weapon be within my walls,
As I suppos'd extinguish might his breath,
To scape a storme which oft by Fortune falls;
He to frequent the fields must oft deferre;
And without guards his lodging never leave;
Loe where with Countrey-men he doth conferre,
We will go try what they of him would have.
| The Tragedy of Croesvs | |