University of Virginia Library

Actus quintus

Enter Cyrus. Panthea, and the armie.
Pan.
Great lords to whom the Assyrian scepter yeelds
and Babylon through right of victorie,
Lies open to those conquering swords of yours,
How fares my lord, my lord and louing feere,
My Abradates, liues he conquerour,
Or left by destnie numbred with the dead?

Cy.
Faire Ladie, vertuous, chast, and amiable,
I trust your loue among the liuing dwels,
and like a champion and a knight at armes,
will shew himselfe or manie houres expire,
His temples adornde with victorious palme.

Pan.
When to the sight my lord adrest his bands
Deuoutly entred I Belonas fame,
And there before the aultar of the Saint,
Perfumde the ayre with smoke of holie fire,
And breathed forth my plaints and eke my mones,
Thrice I me seemed the Goddesse turnde her face,
Offending-like frowning with angrie browes,
Against my prayers and my holie vowes,
O Cyrus, if my iealous thoughts diuine,
Some dismall sequell to this fantasie,
Yet pardon me seeing womens wittes are weake,
And loues aboundes with superstitious feare.

Cy.
Madam, I trust the presence of your Lord,
Returning backe in triumph and renowme,
Shall soone remoue those thoughts out of your mind,
So graunt the Gods my countries presidentes,

Abradates borne in dead.
Cy.
What slaughtered bodie do you Persians bring?

Captain.
Cyrus the bodie of the Susian king,
Stout Abradates by the Egyptians slaine.

Pan.
Now let my Lord the prince of Persia iudge,
whether vnhappie Panthea feared in vaine,
O noble loue whose manly heart deserude,
To ioy the benefite of longer life,
And richer Trophes to enlarge the same.
But tell vs now after what sort he died?

Cap.
Mounted aloft his chariot armed with sithes,
Beating the strong Egyptians downe,
A few of his familiar trustie friends,
With dreadfull race insist his chariot Wheeles,
While the other in the battaile turning backe,
Abandoned him among the Egyptian pikes,
Yet Abradates with the few remained,
By force and vertue of his puissant hand,
Sendes thousand of the heathnish foes to hell,
Till at the last dismounted from his seate,
And round enuironed with his enemies,
After so many mortall wounds receyued,
He fell and yeelded vp his kingly ghost.
The Egyptians as their barbarous custome is,
when he was dead cut off his stout right hand,
And left it lying by the breathlesse corps.
But with a band of Persian men at armes,
we rescued him, and brought him to your grace,
Here to receiue such worthie funerals,
As fits the honour of so great a Lord.

Pan.
Now Euphrates whose sad and hollow bankes,
Haue suckt the summe of Abradates blood:
which from his wounds did issue with his life,
Now cease thy course of thy disdained teares,
And let thy courage turne against the tide,
Of mere remorse of wretched Pantheas plaints.
Is this the hand that plighted faith to me,
The hand, that aye hath managde kingly armes,
And brought whole troops of mightie warriors down,
Now sended from the bodie of my Lord,
Cleane voide of feeling, sense and vitall breath,
So Gods and cruell destnies commaund,
Malignant of poore Pantheas happinesse.
Liue Cyrus. You Lords of Persia,
Command my honour to posteritie,
That ages hence the world report may make,
That Panthea died for Abradates sake.

She stabs her selfe.
Nic.
Gone is my Ladie pearlesse Panthea.
Slaine with selfe griefe for Abradates sake,
Nicasia loathes to liue when she is gone,
The pride and Phenix of Assyria,
Ile not presume to touch the fatall steele,
Wherein my Ladies sacred blood do smoake,
Receiue me in thy bowels Euphrates,
And let thy bottome be Nicasias graue.

Enter Cyrus, Araspas, and Gobrias, to Abradates dead
Cy.
O Persians see if any breath remaineth.

Ara.
Cyrus alas all sense of feeling is gone,
His senselesse lims with stiffenesse ouer growne,
No rubbing warming, ought auaileth vs,
But pale death sits as conquerour ouer him.

Let Araspas kneele downe by Abradates.
Cy.
Mirrour of honor and true Nobilitie,
No age, no time shall euer race thy fame,
Whilest Euphrates doth keepe his running streame.
What Abradates, and chast Panthea too,
O Abradates worthie man at armes,
O Panthea chast vertuous and amiable,
This office Cyrus to your wandring ghost,
Reserues in store to grace your funerals,
with monuments of fatall Elonie,
Of Cedar, Marble, let, and during brasse,
That future worlds and infants yet vnborne,
May kisse your tombes wherein your bodies lie,
And wonder at the vertues of your minde,
Assyrian Lord, such honour thou shalt haue,
As neuer had Assyrian at his graue.
Six hundred head of cattell shall be slaine,
And sacrificed vpon the funerals day.
Twelue thousand horses being manned each one,
Trapt all in blacke shall goe before thy hearse,
The towred battlements of Babylon,
Bend in contempt of heauen and earth, and men,
Those markes of pride shall be abated downe,
To make a shew of mourning for thy death.
Such honour as you both receyude in life,
Such honour shall you both receiue in death.