University of Virginia Library

Act. 3.

MAHOMET ALLYBEG.
Is there not somthing more for me to do,
Then to gain Persia's Crownes, and Asia's too?
Must I end there? and after ages say
Here was the limits of great MAHOMETS sway?
Forbid it my bold Genius. Such a Head
Was never meant lesse then the whole worlds dread,
To coin new projects, and dilate my fame
Beyond cold Caucasus, where the Roman name
Could never come, all knees must bow unto't
From Ganges head to towring Atlas foot.
Cunning or force all waies shall open make,
Or that all locks shall pick, or this shall break.
Some would start now, and say, we can't dispence
With justice to do this, and Conscience.
Die all such thoughts in me. “Who great things dare
“Think all wales just that profitable are.
As long lives he that throws JOVES Temples down
As he that prostrates at his shrine his Crown.
“All Acts, in this world, good, that prosperous, are:
What, in the next I neither know, nor care.
This world then that I know i'le either have
My subject, or else mine and its own Grave.
If I fall, she shall: the loud crack will be
A Dirge fit for so great an Obsequie.

ABBAS,
MAHOMET-ALLY-BEG.
Where is my MAHOMET?

Mah.
He's here dread ABBAS.

Abb.
Hast set the Guards, and put a bit upon
The Mutinous Town? such acts as we intend
Are not safe in themselves, but onely made so
By the same power that doth them.

Mah.
I, my Leige
Have doubled all your Guards; and yet the more
T'oblige them, I have paid them all arrears.

Abb.
You did well to make that the first act of
Your Treasurership—Sit down my Confidence.
And now what say your letters from the Army?

Mah.
Even as we wish'd, the Prince is on the way,
But play'd loath to depart from his dear strength,
At first it was debated.

Abb.
Heavens! how far
Was this state Gangreen crept, that they durst make
Debates of my so positive commands!

Mah.
The wily Foxes yet advis'd his comming,
To gain your good conceit of his obedience.
BELTAZAR'S Power known once, all flew off
The hinges; every face, grew dull and misty;
All late resolves of Action recoil'd
As if their bloods were cooled, and frighted back,
Either through fear, their Treason is smelt out,
And so they shall not stay long after him,
Or else for pure Love to him they mourn'd;
But 'twas not love, men of the blade and Action,
Us'd to quaffe blood for Healths, are too too rough
For that soft tender Vertue to inhabit.

Abb.
'Twas conscious guilt that flew into their faces,
Arm'd with her furies whipps and Harpy nailes.

Mah.
Was it not time then to disarm the Serpent
Of's sting? who now may hisse, but never bite.

Abb.
BELTAZAR writes EMANGOLY and ELCHEE
Seem most displeas'd, and slight his joyning with them.

Mah.
They know themselves, and know withall that hee
Or I, or any, whom your grace dares trust,
Have not the Art of war. They know you need them,
Therefore take boldnesse thus to nose and beard you.

Abb.
I'le ruine all mankind first. No, this war
Is but t'inlarge our Territories; honour,
Not need or Right is all the cause: I'le send
Commissioners down, and clap up peace with th'Turk,
And so disband this factious Army. Then
Let th'haughty Duke of Shiras have a care
Lest I absolve my self of my rash oath,
Never to lop him shorter by the head.
By th'hands at least I will, that is the Power.
“The misery of rach oaths! yet in the cause
“Of Treason, no man hath a priviledge.
I'le thrust him from his Government of Shiras,
I'le turn his feast of Lillies into Cypresse.
And remove ELCHEE from Hyrcania too.

Mah.
To out EMANGOLY you've pretence enough.
Ha hath been long continued in his trust;
Places so high ar'nt onely for one Subject
Your Majestie have many to reward,
And honour is the cheapest way you have.
But ELCHEE has had no time in's Honour,
And been provok'd already; besides he
May still be usefull, and hee's yet too great
For such disgrace. “'Tis never safe to anger
“Too many great ones at one time, Sir, ELCHEE
Made yours once, will serve to ballance th'other.
Yet for a while, banish him from your presence,
'Twill make him conscious of his fault, and put him
Upon some thoughts how to regain your favour.
Then, to be reconciled is to win him.
“'Tis better to gain one friend, then crush then foes.
But let EMANGOLY be clean cast off,
As uselesse quite, and not to be reclaim'd.

Abb.
Wise MAHOMET, thou shalt rule me, bee it thy care
To draw up Articles, find Commissioners
To fetch us peace, impowr'd with full instructions.

Mah.
Who mean you in EMANGOLY'S roome, ore Shivas?

Abb.
Who but thy self, companion of my Reign?
Who else is fit to be second in glory,
Or help to bear so many pondrous Crowns?
I now shall take sound sleeps and no more start,
Or break my troubled slumbers, with conceit
Of sword, or Treason. The Hesperian fruit
Was not so safe under the Dragons guard,
Nor the golden Fleece kept by the brasse-hoof'd Bull
Half so secure, as I and th'Empire shall be
In thy care, Angell Guardian of Persia.

Mah.
Not all the Gods could so oblige me. Heavens!
What anxious care, what service, what endeavours,
Can ere requite such favours! But, Sir, I
Am conscious of mine own defects, for such
A Province, that requires the ablest man;
A man, A God Phœbus himself to rule it;
A rule as glorious as his flaming Throne.

Abb.
Thou art modest ALY-BEG. He is most fit
Who we dare trust, and that is thee my MHOMET

ABBAS,
MAHOMET-ALLYBEG, FARRABAN, Two THEEVES, OFFICERS.
Who have you brought into our presence (Dogs)
And are the sons of filth and povertie
Fit objects for our eye?

2 Theev.
Mercy, O mercy!

Far.
An't please your Majesty, these two were soldiers.
Ran from their colours hither, and turn'd Theeves,
They rob'd ith'Court it selfe, my chamber.

Theev.
Mercy.

Abb.
'Twere to disgrace our mercy to bestow her
Vpon such vagabonds, who besides your Theft,
And cowardly sulking from the Camp, shall die,
If but for so disgracing, so prophaning
Our Court, with such base rags, and bands of vermine
Compounds of Oyle and stench! spawn of a Toad!
Are these weeds for a Court? Or is our Marble
To be polluted with your dust and sweat?
Rascalls! spued out of Gaoles and Charnel houses!
Rotten already! that bear graves about you!
Go, Officers, away with them to death.
'Tis plain they are Theeves, they've rob'd some of their fellowes
Long since hung up in chains, of those foul raggs,
That danc'd ith'air many a frosty night.
Yet, that they may die neatlier then they liv'd,
Give them new Coats, then dragg'd out of the Town,
Impale them high on stakes, thrust through their bodies.

1 Thee.
This may thank you could keep the dore no better.

2 Thee.
T'may thank us both, for robbing without killing.
“They're wise that make sure work.

Mah.
Tis true.

Abb.
Away.

Mah.
(Tis a good Prologue this to his sons Tragedy.)
[Aside.
Attend without there, FARRABAN, I've somewhat
To move the King, you may be usefull in,
Be within call.

Far.
I will, my honoured Lord.

ABBAS,
MAHOMET-ALLYBEG.
Drawes not the time on, you expect the Prince in?

Mah.
Yes. How will you that he be entertain'd?

Abb.
How entertain'd? why, how, but with a bowstring?
Is't not decreed? Entice the trusty Son
From his Eccliptick line, he shall obey
Your beck, and wander from his sphear, ere I
From my resolves.

Mah.
Admired Constancy!

Abb.
Set you some spy of faith 'gainst his arrivall,
There let him stay him to attend my comming;
Then give us notice, and thou and I will plant
Our selves in secret to behold the justice;
To act which, get seven Executioners
Deaf, dumb, and dextrous to rush in upon him;
So all Rebellions shall be strangled in him:
Th'Hydra of Treason at one pluck shall lose
Her numerous heads, and we our fears, and be
For ever cured of all jealousie.

Mah.
Ile appoint FARRABAN to be his last
Master of Ceremonies. FARRABAN,

MAHOMET-ALLYBEG,
FARRABAN.
Which is the way to rise at Court, thinkst thou?

Far.
T'obey and please.

Mah.
Right, and thou art ambitious.

Far.
What do I here else?

Mah.
Whither tends thy aime?
Give me the utmost height of thy aspiring.

Far.
Troth there you pose me; for “Our thoughts still rise
“As our estates and power; the avarice
“Of honour is no lesse insatiable
“Then that of gold.—But for the present, I
Know mine own wish, and so shall you my Lord.
When I walk by the Cittadell, so strong,
So stately, that claimes reverence from mine eye,
I think if I had but the government
Of that, I should be happy enough to pitty
The grand Signior, and envy him no more.

Mah.
The government oth'Castle! is that all?
Thou art too modest.

Far.
Good my Lord, do'nt scoffe me.

Mah.
I am in earnest,—thou shalt have it FARRABAN,
The King has but one piece of Service for thee,
Do that, and thou art Governour.

Far.
If I
Can do't, tis done.

Mah.
Come, Ile instruct thee how.

FLORADELLA,
CLOE.
Come, why staid you so long abroad this morning?
You'l never leave your Gossiping till you
Be double rib'd, as GLAVCA was, and then
You may go seek a Father for't: 'bove all things
Beware of a great belly; there is losse
Of time, and losse of sport in't, besides trouble.

Clo.
O Madam, I can make sirrup of Savin,
My selfe; and twenty tricks I have besides.
Here is the book EARINA promis'd you.

Flo.
What, ARETINE, so famous for his postures!
Let's see it.—Were you at ERINA's house,
Or sent she this?

Clo.
I was there Madam, and
Had the luck too, to see her fine new servant.

Flo.
What for a creature is't?

Clo.
A pretty silk-worm.

Flo.
How happy am I therein 'bove the rest,
That dote on sleeked limbs, and finest bloud,
Looking but for couch comforts, not aspiring
The godlike ornament of a crown! let them
Melt in their youngsters armes, Ile sacrifice
To hair and bristles, cling to MAHOMET,
Or hug a coffin to arrive at honour—
Me thinks this Purruck leans to th'left hand somewhat,

Clo.
No Madam, 'tis well set, and rarely sented.
I would we'd more of the prepared Pomatum,
And powder I bought last.

Flo.
What talk's most rife
Abroad, wench?

Clo.
That my Lord MAHOMET is sworn
Lord Treasurer, he's now the only Sun
Next to the King, of greatest light.

Flo.
He shall
Ecclips him one day.—What do you now?

Clo.
This fucus
Is laid too thick, Ile mend it with my scarlet.

Flo.
Have you got Puppy Dogs, and an after burden?

Clo.
Yes.

Flo.
Well—distill them then with care—my Lord.

MAHOMET-ALLYBEG,
FLORADELLA, CLOE.
Why; this is as it should be, now my beauty
Displaies her lustre, throwing sweets and graces
About the place, her selfe being as the spring,
A box wherein all sweets compacted lie.

Flo.
This spring, Sir, owes it selfe but to your beams.
I wish you joy, Sir, of your treasurership,

Mah.
A step, that's but a step to a greater height.
I've something more to tell thee, that is fit
For thy ear only.

Flo.
CLOE, prethe leave us.

Clo.
(Now can't I for my soul but listen, I
Have such an itch of novelty)

Mah.
Come my dear,
Aside, she places her selfe behind the hangings to listen.
Art ready to ascend thy throne? hast practised
To Queen it with a Majesty? seest thou not
All creatures bow in homage to thy foot?
And Princes throng into thy set of servants?

Clo.
(This is fine Pageantry, would it were reall.
O how I should be courted!)

Flo.
Jeast not, jeast not,
How proceed you?

Mah.
Smoothly, the dreaded Prince
Is on's last journey; an hour brings him hither,
An other sends him Elizium.
The army kicks at BALTAZAR's command,
And pines for th'Prince; the two Dukes fume and fret
Like Lions caught in toiles or Buls in nets,
Where strugling but intangles them the more.
Since the King can't trust these men thus inrag'd,
Nor knowes he where to serve himselfe of others;
He means a league with th'Turk, so falls this army,
And leaves him no force to oppose my rise.
He shew'd me his thoughts of outing ELCHEE
From his vice-royship of Hircania,
And stout EMANGOLY from his of Shiras.
I having hopes of ELCHEE, knew to out him
Were to disable him to do me service;
So wrought him to continue the gelden Duke,
But not without a spice of his displeasure,
Forbidding him the Court, and this will rub
His former wounds, and make him fitter for me
To work upon; for “Nothing like disgrace
“And discontent drive men into rebellion.
EMANGOLY I know too wise and haughty
For my use so did close with his suspition,
To lay him by; there I've disarm'd a foe,
And the most Potent too in the whole Empire.
To hinder his gath'ring or abetting Factions,
We'l to this Town confine him, to have him in
Our eye, and keep his friends from herding with him.

Clo.
(Faire fall that Counsell, I shall see my Sweetheart
Again then,—O dear VASCO!—Well, I'l venture
Catching th'other cold, with sitting up
To let thee in at the back door a nights.
Lord, I'm so marriage-minded o'the suddaine!)

Flo.
I'm musing who shall be preferr'd to Shiras,
If any of that faction should step up,
T'were but the worse: be that your care to hinder.

Mah.
Who cleares a field of thornes, but meanes to reap
The crop? nor had I counsell'd his remove,
But that the King proffer'd his place to me:
Whereby th'best halfe of my designe is acted.
“For he that gives the means unto another,
‘To become powerfull, undoes himselfe.

Flo.
That word gives me new spirits. O my joy!
Let me embrace thee, sweet; all our contrivements
That sounded hard before, are easie now.
Nor will we rest in our first project: we
Will stretch our conquest farther, till no names
But onely ours, be heard from Pole to Pole.

Mah.
This hand was never made for to grasp less
Then the whole world, one Scepter cannot fill it:
Thou shalt reward thy women all with Kingdoms—

Clo.
(Hei, ho, my heart! then I shall be a Queen.)

Mah.
And give whole Isles in dowry with thy Maidens:
The meanest drudge that toyleth in thy service,
Shall sweep his Oven with MORAT'S Horsetayle standard:
My Ganymeds and Lackies I'l prefer
To Provinces, and give a City to
My Grooms for every time they hold my stirrop.
I'l ride upon tame Unicornes, and thou
Shalt have thy Charriot drawn by yoaked Lions:
My slaves shall play at foot-ball with the crowns
Of their own conquer'd Kings, whose blooming daughters
Shall sue to wait, some 'mongst thy maids, and some
To be entertain'd in my Serraglio.

Flo.
Why should not I have a Serraglio too,
For men and boyes? I prethee let me build one.

Clo.
(That would be fine i'faith, I love variety.)

Mah.
No, no, my sweet, thou must keep all for me.

Flo.
Fie, this ingrossememt is but meer conceipt:
Do's the sweet spring lesse cool, less fair appear,
When many thirsts are quench'd in her, then when
But one has drank? find you not the same sweets,
When more besides your selfe have smelt your Rose?

Mah.
Well, I'l not press the Dove's example to thee,
Or geniall Vine, but give thee the free reins,
Let thy selfe loose to pleasures.

Flo.
We'l make poor
Ingenuous luxury in all her Arts.

Mah.
Mean while, we'l re-erect our marble City,
Persepolis, far fairer then her founder
SOSARINUS, or rather JAMSHET meant her;
Or then she was indeed when the mad Greek
Swimming in riot, at fair THAIS Counsell,
Did wrapt her pride about with wastfull flames.
There our bright Pallace I'l repair, and give
The forty Towers new Resurrection,
From their forgotten rubbish Th'hundred Pillars
Of white and shining marble, shall again
Erect their pollish'd heads, not to support
APOLLO, as of old, but thy fair statue,
And mine, adored of the prostrate world.

Flo.
We'l lie on Beds of Gold and Ivory,
Richer then that Bythinian PYTHIUS gave,
Our great DARIUS: Golden Vines shall shade us,
Studded with Pearls, whose artificiall clusters
Shall be the freshest Rubies. Thus we'l tyre
Nature and Art, and our selves too, with pleasures.

Mah.
I've a pretence shall gaine even MIRZA'S friends.
'Tis that I onely aim at, the Protection
Of young SOFFIE, whom they cannot think safe
In's Grandsires hands, seeing his hate to's Father:
Do you pretend no other to the Ladies.
At first, to name my selfe were gross and open.

Flo.
Great soul of wit! that cannot chuse but take them,
Some oth'great Ladies I've with visits courted,
With presents some, all with unusuall favours:
So that they seem to stand expecting something
I'd have them doe, which when the Prince is gone,
They being thus prepared, they shall have.
T'were good you won the Muftie to your purpose;
And some o'th'Abdalls, that at publique meetings,
And market Lectures, may expound the Text
Oth'Alchorar, according to your Comment.
Good cheer is bait enough for these poore spirits,
Fil them with that, and the bagpipes will sound
What Tune you'l turn them to, when they are full:
Bid them inveigh against the Tyranny
They now groan under: promise silken Yoaks,
And easie burdens in your Government.
Pretend a Reformation of the Law,
To take down all illegal Courts and Taxes:
To make all Lands and goods Hereditary,
So that the Persian being rich in Marble,
Need never more to build with unburnt clay.
Promise a Toleration of all
Religions, to ease tender Consciences,
Or Jew or Christian, but yet persecute
The Christian still; it is a spreading Sect,
And where it gets a foot draws in the body:
What though your word's not kept? your ends obtain'd,
Y'are too great to be taxt with breach of promise.

Mah.
'Tis true, great wit, these mercenary Priests
Are the best fire-brands, such I've ready kindled,
They are at work in every Conventicle,
Their empty heads are Drums, and their hoarse voyces
Are Trumpets to the war: then, when no longer
The people will believe, I shall be able
To force them to't: Power and Policy,
“Are the two Poles a Kingdom turns upon.

Flo.
More Policy not MERCURY can boast;
O that your power were equall! as to that:
What think you of the Horse-guard I propounded?

Mah.
I do intend it, when I've money for't.

Flo.
I've twenty thousand Tomaynes towards it.

Mah.
(This want of money now was well pretended.)
[aside.
As many thanks, my sweet, I will returne thee,
For every piece a Crown, (a nooze I should say.)

[aside.
Clo.
Base man! well, I'l prevent thy treachery.

Mah.
By this the King expects me, but my deare,
First let me leave my soul upon thy lips.

Clo.
(Out Crocodile! he'l lick off all her paint too.)

Mah.
Adieu my Queen, my Goddess, more, my Love.

Flo.
My Prince, my MAHOMET, my best of wishes,
And their accomplishments attend thee ever.

FARRABAN.
And must the brave Prince die? who would love vertue!
That sure has no reward, and is but name!
Could vertuous valour, and all daring goodnesse,
A noble scorn of Fortune and her frowns,
Whole Hecatombes of Vowes and Prayers, sent
Climbing to Heaven on pious breath, enough
To scale it, and force blessings from the Gods:
Could Countries love, or Persias Genius wrest
From ruthless ATROPOS the impartial sheares,
Then had'st thou liv'd, great MIRZA, and outliv'd
The smooth-tongu'd Greek. O let not this be knowne
In Balsora, nor publish'd in Bizantium,
Lest the Arabian triumphs, and the daughters
Of ACHMET, sing the fall o'th'Persian glory.
But why waile I his fall that is my rising?
“Kings great intents are to be serv'd, not searcht:
But would he'd us'd some other instrument:
Yet th'Cittadell is worth the paines I take for't.
He comes,—I'm hardly bad enough for this service.

MIRZA,
FARRABAN, PAGE.
Now FARRABAN.

Far.
Long live your Highnesse, you
Are well return'd. Sir, I am sent from th'King,
To let you know, that since 't was private businesse
Urg'd him to call you up, he thinks it best
You'd not appear in Court, or make your comming
Publique, now when your Army so much needs you:
And since a suddaine griefe late fallen upon him,
Makes him unfit for businesse; he desires
You'd repose here, till himselfe comes to visit,
And give you your dispatch, which he assures
Your grace shall be as soon as he can get
Leave of's Disease to venture into th'air.

Mir.
Thou giv'st me joy and sorrow FARABAN;
Sorrow, to heare his Majestie wants health;
And joy, in hope of quick dispatch, because
My Army's need of me, and my desire
To be with them are alike great and urgent.
My humble duty to his Majestie
I'l here attend him, and imploy the time
In prayers for his health.

Far.
Heavens keep your highness,
For Earth sha'nt long I'm sure.

[Secret.
Pag.
Your Highness said,
You'd have your Scimitar, new set on edge,
Whilst here you stay, if't please you, 't may be done.

Mir.
That's well remembr'd, the stout trusty blade,
That at one blow has cut an Asinego
Asunder like a threed, is drunk and glutted
With Ottoman blood; it cuts not now, but bruises.
Take it, and giv't an edge, but be'nt long absent,
Mean while a nap shall settle my toss'd braine,

He lies down upon a Couch to sleep.
ABBAS,
MAHOMET, ALLYBEG, MIRZA.
They peep in from behind the hangings.
He sleeps.—One blow will make yon sleep eternall.

Mah.
He is the fitter for your purpose, farther
From opposition.

Abb.
But 'tis cowardly,
To strike a man sleeping.

Mah.
We that stick not
For vertues selfe must not regard her shadow,
Fame and repute; no heed what honour saies,
State saies it, and state is the power we serve.

Abb.
A handsome man! 'tis pitty!

Mah.
Do you soften?

Abb.
Relent a little; 'las, against a showre
Of so great blood, what Marble but relents!

Mah.
You have your choice yet, whether you or he
Shall passe the Stygian sound first. Do, do, strain
Courtesie with him; say, my flower of youth
Has shed the leaves, thine flourishes in glory:
Live thine own time out MIRZA, and mine too.

Abb.
No, he must fall; yet falls he not my crime,
But Tyrant Necessities, that knoweth
No law, not those of justice, nor of nature.

Mah.
Now y'are your selfe again.

Mir.
Skirt all along
The trenches with the Horse.

Mah.
Hark! hark! he dreams
Nothing but war; talks sleeping or awake,
Nothing but blood and wounds.

Mir.
Remember but
That I am MIRZA, you Persians.

Mah.
Is this
Nothing?

Abb.
An overflow of dangerous valour.
ABBAS, MAHOMET-ALLYBEG, MIRZA, seven Mutes.
The King, and Mah. still behind the hangings.
Ah!

Mah.
See your selfe and crowns rescu'd from danger.
The Mutes with bow-strings in their hands, they make softly towards the Prince.
Deaths journey-men ready to seize your fear.

Abb.
Sad necessary evill!

Mah.
Shut but your eye
And when you op't again. you'l see no Rivall.

Mir.
Where, wher's the opposition made?

He starts up, the executioners fly back.
Mah.
He wakes.

Abb.
There's danger in his fury, and quick death
In every look.

Mir.
Blesse me! what do I see!
I am betrayed!

Mah.
I warrant you.

Mir.
Treason! Treason!

Mah.
I, I, call till your lungs crack.

Mir.
Hell, and furies!
What Devill made me send away my sword,
To fall a tame dull sacrifice to treason?

Mah.
Persia's good Genius.

Mir.
Yet the lower shades
Shall never see my Ghost come unattended.
They fly upon him, and throw their noozes towards his neck.
“Fury nere wanted weapons.

He taks up a stool to ward and fight with.
Abb.
O that I
Could save him, and be safe my selfe!

Mah.
You cannot.

Mir.
Go you dull dog, tell RADAMANTH I come—
He knocks down one of the executioners.
And you—bid CHARON wait me with his boat.—
[He kils another.
How will it yrk my Ghost to fall without
My full revenge?—could every blow I deal
Light on my cruell Father—the curs'd cause
Of my base murder—I should die contented—
As in th'embraces of my dearest friends.

Mah.
You see Sir, what you were to trust to from him.

Abb.
would I had nere deserv'd it.

Mir.
And you too,
Go you,—and tell my Grandsire, and my Vncle
He kills another.
I come—to keep them company,—we'l sit
On Acharons banks,—under a fatal yew,—
Counting the murders—of my Tyrant Father.—
Ah too unnaturall Father!—Our pale Ghosts
By turnes shall vex thee.—Is this private businesse!
Curses and horrour dog thee to thy Hell.—
ABBAS!—O ABBAS—forget not—that I die—
I die—the complement of thy Tyranny.

Wearied with resistance, he fals, and faints, the other 4 executioners proceed to strangle him, when the King comes out, and takes them off.
Abb.
I can no longer hold, I feel his torment.

Mah.
Inconstant!

Abb.
MAHOMET, help me rescue him,
And call him back from the infernall shades.

Mah.
Faith Sir, I'me deep ith'gout I cannot struggle.

Abb.
MIRZA, O MIRZA, speak, thy father calls.

Mir.
My murderer.

Abb.
O he lives he lives, help! help!

Mah.
I am very lame—Pox o'these bunglers, would
[Aside.
He had kil'd them all.

Abb.
He faints again! the soul
Is coy, and will not stay, help! help! who waits there?

FARRABAN,
SELEUCUS.
[To them.
Sir.

Abb.
O help me redeem my hasty errour,
And be a Father again.

Mah.
'Las Sir, we cannot
Bring him again oth'sudden; he's but swounded,
His spirits must have time to Rally. But what
Will do with him? do you think this injury
Will ever be forgotten? will you restore him?

Abb.
No, yet he lives, though in a dungeon.—Bind him
Lest he recovers.—Now to make him henceforth
Incapable of giving me more trouble,
Ile have a flaming steel be drawn before
His eyes, to take away his sight.

Mah.
Do't then
Ere he recovers, you'l not rule him else.

Abb.
Be it your care FARRABAN and SELEUCUS.

Sell.
It shall.

Abb.
Then guard him to the Citadell.
Stay FARRABAN, you I've made Governour.
Seleucus and the Mutes carry out the Prince, still in his swound.
Where's his commission MAHOMET?

Mah.
Here my Liege.
You see Sir I was mindfull of my word.

Far.
Your trust shall never be deceiv'd by me.

Abb.
Ward the Prince up, but hinder not his friends
Th'accesse of visits; yet observe who comes;
So shall we know the faction by degrees.
He fast, fetch his wife to him, and young SOFFIE.
Let little FATYMA be brought to me,
Ile have her in my Court to play withall.

Far.
All your commands are done.—Now I grow strong.
[Secret.
In villany, and fit for any service.
At first I startled, and my blood recoil'd.
“None are oth'sudden highly good or bad;
“By time and practise are crafts-masters made.

Abb.
MAHOMET, compile a Proclamation
Declaring my just fears and jealousies
Of his exorbitant rise, and growing faction.
This timely mercy will possesse the world
That I am only carefull, and not cruell.
And that 'tis not the person but the treason
I punish. “Tyranny may be gilt with reason.

MAHOMET-ALLYBEG.
Inconstant dotard! canst thou never sleep
And wake again firm in the same resolve!
Well, thou but leav'st for me to do, what thou
Wouldst have, but could'st not; nor shall this faint rub,
Thy cowardise cast in my way, impede
My strong-cast bowl, but the more surely lead
It to th'intended Jack, that is, thy head.

NYMPHADORA,
FATYMA, IFFIDA.
What mists are these that dwell about mine eyes
To cheat me into slumbers! as if rest
(The cure of troubled minds) meant to compose
The tumults of my brain, and sleep repair
My broken senses, softly by distilling
Her gentle balm upon my wounded thoughts!
When I no sooner do obey, and throw
My cares on her, but melancholy keeps
Sad orgies in my head, shuffling again
My senses with pale frights, and gastly dreams,
Full fraught with horrour and black Tragedie,
Turning to poyson what soft sleep meant balsom!

Iff.
Why weeps her grace, as if she'd wash the world
[To Fatyma.
To its old innocence? accost her Madam.

Nym.
Alas! poor heart! my load of grief's too heavie
To be remov'd by thee;—mine eyes no sooner
Close, but I start in frights, visions and Ghosts,
Pale wandring Ghosts still shake their funerall brands
Before me, and invite me to their shades.
Me thought I saw my Prince with gastly looks,
Squallid and bloody, beckon me away.
And then the Sun with bloody countenance seem'd
To set upon his head, and a thick cloud
Invelop'd him in her dark misty womb.
Portents! portents of some dire fate to come.

Fat.
Madam, alas how oft have you chid me
For crying at sad dreams? last night, me thought
I saw an eagle pick his chickens eyes out,
And could have wept for't, but I soon forgat it.

Nym.
'Tis true, sweet-heart, our sleeping thoughts are oft
Idle and imperfect, but most commonly
They're either Histories of something past,
Or dark presages of what is to come.

Iff.
For heavens sake, Madam, torture not your selfe
With dreams, but let some Magus read them to you,
Or else consult with some wise woman 'bout them.

Nym.
No IFFIDA, “Wisdome and vertue be
“The only destinies set for man to follow.
“The heavenly powers are to be reverenced,
“Not searcht into; their mercies rather be
“By humble Prayers to be sought, then their
“Hidden counsells by curiosity.

SOFFIE,
NYMPHADORA, FATYMA, IFFIDA.
Madam, the Court is full of armed men,
They've planted guards at every door, and make
Apace towards the presence.

Iff.
Hark—Madam, let
[A noise without.
The Prince be hidden.

Nym.
No, he has innocence
Enough to guard him.

Fat.
O they come!

Nym.
Let them.

FARRABAN,
NYMPHADORA, SOFFIE, FATIMA, IFFIDA, SELEUCUS, Guards.
Your Grace will please to pardon us, whilst we do
Onely our Offices, and the Kings commands,
In removing you, and my Lord your Son,
To th'Cittadell, where Madam, I assure you,
You shall find all the liberty and service
Is in my power to afford.

Sel.
You, Madam,
[To Fatyma.
The King expects at Court, where all delights,
And studied pleasures, shall be spread before you.

Iff.
O Heaven!

Nym.
Why this oth'suddain? if there's ought
Amisse in me, his gentlest check could have
Reform'd it soon, without this strict confinement.

Far.
Madam, no cause of this is from your selfe,
As we conceive, but from the Prince, who is
Already there.

Nym.
O my oraculous soule!
My dreames are read without a Magus, come,
Come, lead away, if he be there, the place
Is not a Prison, but a Court, a Palace,
A Paradise; this is my Prison, 'cause
He is not here: I goe not to restraint,
But to inlargement. Is my Lord there say you?
I'm sure unjustly, since nothing deserves
A punishment but evill, and all evill is
Repugnant to bright honour, and her dictates,
And no dishonorable thought had ever
The confidence to thrust into his mind.
Adieu, my FATYMA, thou must to Court,
But I to riper pleasures, if allow'd
Thy Fathers presence in what ever place.

Fat.
'Las, Madam, may not I wait on you the

Sel.
No Madam.

Fat.
I'l not be long from your Grace:
Farewell my Princely Brother.

Nym.
Alas! I cannot
See thee torn from me thus.

She turnes and weeps.
Sof.
What insolence
Is this! and whither will you hurry me?

Far.
My Lord, onely to see your Royall Father.

Nym.
Go, Childe, the Gods of Persia are thy guard:
Wilt thou partake my fortunes IFFIDA?

If.
Willingly, Madam, as i'd entertaine
My Bridall.

Nym.
Come then, glad Brides do not meet
Their longing Grooms, more eagerly then I
Embrace my Prison, if that be a Prison
Where MIRZA is: the joy of meeting him,
Devours all thoughts o'th'place which must appear
Both noble and convenient, he being there.

ABBAS,
OLYMPA.
We knew his Parts, but know with all, “No Vertue
“Can merit praise, once touch't with blot of Treason:
Yet since 'tis not himselfe we chastize, but
His crime, the innocence of his children shall not
Share ith'reward of his offence, and therefore
We commit FATYMA to your Governance:
She is of the best blood, yet betters it
With all the Graces of an excellent spirit:
Mild as the infant Rose, and innocent
As when Heaven lent her us. Her mind, as well
As face, is yet a Paradise untainted
With blemishes, or the spreading weeds of vice.

Oly.
My care sir, shall preserve those glories green,
To grow with her, and flourish as her beauty.

Abb.
When aged some two years more, we meane a marriage
'Tween her and an Arabian King: Her goodness
Can brook no meaner fortune then a Throne.

ABBAS,
OLYMPA, FATIMA, SELEUCUS.
See where she comes, waited by all the Graces!

Oly.
With Innocence cast about her as a Dresse:
Yet wears she sorrow in her face.

Abb.
But mixt
With such a sweetnesse, as gives sorrow beauty.
Come my faire Grand-childe, welcome to our Court:
We mean to have thee here, as a choice Jewel
Set to th'advantage, to be seen and prais'd;
Madam OLYMPA is your Governesse.

Fat.
Then sir, my first suit to her is, that I
May see my Father, if not still wait on him.

Abb.
Deny her nothing, but make quick return,
A Prison is no shrine for such a goodnesse.

Oly.
Come Madam, I'l attend you to his Highnesse.

Abb.
Doe—and SELEUCUS, hast thee down to Larr,
Be happy in thy Government let us know
What's fit more to be done there? and how they
Take this great change of state.

Sel.
I will my Leige.

SELEUCUS.
You soon will know what you have done, and what
You should have left undone, when 'tis too late.
What Prince would have disarm'd himself of so
Trusty a strength! and to his watchfull foe,
Laid himselfe open thus but one in whom
Strict justice would have that impartiall doom
Of Tyrants to be proved, “Him whom fate
“Meanes to destroy, she doth infatuate.

MIRZA,
PAGE, FARRABAN.
Blinded and led by his Page.
The empty nothing of our worldly greatnesse!

Pag.
O that your trusty Scimiter had stuck
Acrosse my heart, when I depriv'd you of it!
Arm'd but with that, the Sons of earth had felt
Their brothers fortune that made head 'gainst JOVE.

Mir.
Remember it no more sweet youth, alas!
Hell and dire Treason call'd, call'd in the voyce
Of love, the fiend ith'Cherubins disguize,
(Safest disguize, but cruellest!) I came led
By powerfull Fate to my destruction,
And this by chance the wrathfull Powers made joyne
To pluck me down. So, “To a falling man,
“Every thing gives a thrust to hast his ruine.
Who's that?

Pag.
'Tis FARRABAN your Goaler sir.

Mir.
The Devills setting Dog! guide me but to him,
My wrathfull arms shall crush out his black soule.

Pag.
Alas! Sir, your revenge is toothlesse, hear him
'Twill lesse exasperate.

Far.
NYMPHADORA, sir,
Your Princesse comes to see you.

Mir.
Can that name
Come in thy mouth, and not convert thee? wretch!

MIRZA,
NYMPHADORA, SOFFIE, IFFIDA, PAGE.
O heavens! and has the Kite got that Dove too
Into his fangs! the Gods have sure forgot
All justice, and hurle plagues about at random!

Nym.
Goodness! what do I see!—O, that I still
Did not onely dreame!—O—

Iff.
Ah! alas! sweet Madam!
She's swounded! help me DORIDO.

Frighted to see the Prince blind, she swounds. They chafe her.
Mir.
What Tyrant
Planet did rage, not raign, at my curs'd birth!
Too cruell heavens, to ply me thus with wounds?
Do harsh JOVE, do, shoot, shoot again, but know,
If thou spendst many Darts upon me more,
Thou'lt soon disarm thy selfe.—Is not my woe
Enough, without addition of hers
To sink me to the Centre! Lead, O lead me
To her, my comfort once, but now my sorrow,
That I may revive her with fervent kisses,
Or mix with hers my dying breath.

Pag.
Take heed sir.

Mir.
O NYMPHADORA speak, thy MIRZA calls
Still MIRZA, and still thine. O speak, speak quickly,
Lest griefe before thou speak'st, puts me past hearing.
My name was once belov'd, and powerfull with thee.

Nym.
Who, O who calls me from the pleasant shades?

Mir.
Thy MIRZA dearest, 'tis thy MIRZA calls thee.

Nym.
O the vast power of that Charm! where is he?
Bless me—what see I?—Heavens, let me returne
To that sweet Grove, there stood my MIRZA for me,
Glorious and bright, and ile to him againe.

Iff.
Alas, She's gone againe—sweet SOFFIE
Speake to her.

Mir.
Ah! and is he here too!

Sof.
Madam, ah Madam, SOFFIE never ask'd
Ought yet of you in vaine.

Mir.
Heaven is proud
T'have got so pure a soule, and vowes to keep it.

Iff.
Here comes poor FATIMA too.

Sof.
Madam,—FATIMA.

MIRZA,
SOFFIE, NYMPHADORA FATIMA, IFFIDA, PAGE.
O ye infernall Powers! your conquest is
Compleat ore me, why kill you me no faster?
But crucifie me thus with lingring tortures?
I'l do't my selfe—and never be beholding
To you for my last rest BAIAZET'S Cage
Arm'd him with high resolves: my woe's as great,
As powerfull.

He throwes himself downe, and beats his head on the stone.
Fat.
O Gods!

Pag.
Sir, sir, the Princesse
Sweet FATIMA cling you to him, to hinder
His violence to himselfe.

Fat.
O eyes! what see you.

Sof.
O choice of bitter sights.

Fat.
Wer'nt one enough,
To break so soft a heart as mine. O Father!
O Mother! whither shall I turne me first?
Which first bewaile, or add my losse to yours?
O that I could redeem his life with mine!

Sof.
Or I with my blood randsome hers 'twould be
A noble payment for the breath she lent me.

Mir.
Oh—oh!—

Nym.
Ah! what strong groans are those?

Sof.
'Tis MIRZA dies, Madam, 'tis MIRZA dies,
Infected with your griefe.

Nym.
No MIRZA is
Immortall as his Vertue!—O what cheats
Are these! even now I left him in Elizium,
Yet now I find him here squallid and bloudy,
As in my dream—

Iff.
Madam, put off your fright,
Assist now his recovery.

Nym.
O my MIRZA!
Which wound shall I first kiss? here? this? or that?
In silent streams below now dost thou bath
Thy bleeding wounds—but, ah! why dost thou seek.
To wash them any where but in my eyes?
See! see! they flow! These tears when once I dropt
Into thy hurts, when thou cam'st hot from conquest,
Thou didst call balme. Ah! they are still as warm,
As clear, and flow as free. See, see! I'de weep
All my whole moisture into cures couldst thou
But feel it, yet I'l weep because thou dost not.
Ah, ah! thou dost not!—Thou art now possess'd
Of thy fresh Grove, and there to fame deliver'st
Thy NYMPHADORA'S Name; or on the rind
Of some faire Tree, perhaps thou now ingrav'st it,
Then hugg'st thou the fresh bark, and askest pardon
For wounding it with thy beloved Letters.
O'wake, 'wake dearest, and embrace the substance.

Mir.
Where,-O-where am I?

Fat.
O thank Heaven he lives.

Nym.
Th'art in my Arms, thy NYMPHADORA'S Armes;
Where, O that thou hadst ever been, or now
At least may ever be.

Mir.
No, no, I am not,
I'm in the Torrid Zone, right O right under
The vehement Line—Water-O-water quickly.—
What Devill has in my sleep, thrown me to Affrick?
O for a River, though 'twere Acheron,
Or Styx its selfe to bath in.

Nym.
Alas he burns,
He's high in a strong feavour.

Iff.
Madam that
Will find an easie cure, get him to rest;
That's the first step to health in a distemper.

Mir.
Ah me! What COLCHIS, what Thessalian Hag
Thus tortures me, poor wretch, with Magick charms,
And boyles my guts in such a scorching flame,
Melting my marrow as her wax dissolves!

Nym.
Alas dear Prince! best try to rest my Lord.

Mir.
To Lybian Lions TITAN is more mild,
Then thus to rage. VULCAN feeles no such heat
At's glowing forge. Neither is Ætra's selfe
So scalding, when she vomits burning coles.

Nym.
O, I will sigh my soul to air to cool thee.

Mir.
O, who put HERCULES shirt on me? I feel
The poison work, and all my veins boyl high
With Centaur's blood.

Fat.
That I could weep, till like
ÆGIRIA I thaw'd into a fountain
To cool him!

Sof.
Might I ACIS like melt to a stream.

Mir.
Pretty obedience!—Fortunate PROMETHEUS,
Though thy eternall entrailes still should feed
A thousand Eagles! the kind Caucasus
Benums with cold; O that I might with thee
Vnder that hill, handle eternall frost,
Roul in perpetuall snow to quench my fires,
And slake my parch'd soul with continuall Ice!

Iff.
Dear Madam, get him in.

Nym.
O that I could!

Mir.
Or might I still thirst, TANTALUS with thee,
So I might alwaies bath in thy cool River,
For O I burn, I burn, the dog-star rules me,
And feeds his raging fires on all my joynts.

Nym.
Wilt in to rest?

Mir.
'Tis dog-daies every where,
And Affrick.—Here ye BELIDES, here powre
On me, kind sisters, your perpetuall vialls.—
There is an impious nation that is said
To stuffe with human flesh their greedy womb,
O they expect me, and are now devouring
My roasted Liver; all my members broile,
And ready be THYESTES for thy Table.—

Nym.
Page, try to lift him up, softly, O softly.

Mir.
O I am stifled in hot glowing brasse!
I low, shut up in dire PERILLUS Bull.—
Away Dragons, you scald me with your breath.

[He struggles
Nym.
Stay yet.

Mir.
Nought see I 'fore mine eyes but flames,
And towring Pyramids of eternall fire.
What food can serve such flames! alas! what mines
Of Bitumen and Sulphur have I in me,
That thus my loyns consume without a pile.

Iff.
Alas! this talking heightens his distemper.

Nym.
It does,—come try to bear him quickly in.
Once well, he will forgive it.

Mir.
I melt! I melt!
Ah! mine own selfe am mine own funerall fire.

FLORADELLA,
MAHOMET-ALLYBEG.
Bungling Puppies! could not twitch hard enough
When once they'd got him down! What will you do now?
Step on, or back, or alter the whole machin
Of the contrivement?

Mah.
On, my fair, on:
“These little difficulties indear great actions
“To noble minds; they are weak soules fall or stumble
“At rubs cast in their way to try their strength.
The peace I know by this time is patcht up,
And the bold factious Troops disbanded all.
The Town anon will swarm with idle Souldiers,
That will, like fish lie basking in the Sun,
And die, when all the water, their element,
Is let out from them, I'me for ELCHEF first.

Flo.
I for OLYMPA, and EARINA.

Mah.
Presse hard
For liberall lones of money, plate, or Jewells,
Or any of their fine superfluities,
They'l help t'augment the heap. Possesse them strongly
That I intend to rescue the brave Prince
And SOFFIE.

Flo.
You've instructed me enough.

Mah.
Keep hid the Serpent, Lure with the Dove:
“No Treason is like that goes mas'kd like love.

CHORUS.
What is it Heavens, you suffer here?
As if that vices malice were unbounded,
All vertues Laws inverted are,
And the just be by the unjust confounded.
'Tis punishable to speak reason,
Now reason and loyaltie are out of fashion,
And Tyranny and Treason
Have all the vogue in this besotted Nation.
He that our great Palladium was,
No lesse our strength and bulwark, then our glory,
A prey to rampant malice lies,
Whose fall almost, the doers selves makes sorry.
His innocent issue suffer too,
Not laid so close up as a priz'd treasure;
But to shew what their rage can do,
And that reason ruleth not their acts, but pleasure.
His noble friends, that whilst they wore
I'th field his purple, could deaths selfe have daunted,
Men, that a crime, then death, fear more,
Suffer for crimes wherewith they'r unacquainted.
Some to strickt bounds confined are,
Some to remote; all judg'd without due tryall:
The cause, fond jealousie and fear,
Strange state, that fears such subjects as are loyall!
Whilst they that mean the rape o'th state,
Swim in smooth oyle, and wallow in all riot,
Intit'ling their black deeds to fate,
And put bad men in armes, to keep good quiet.
O whither doth the precipice
Of evill hurry men of base condition!
Made drunken with unjust successe,
They all the world grasp in their vast ambition.
Seest thou not JOVE rebellions scope?
'Lesse thy quick vengeance stopps their sudden rising,
They'l, like their elder brothers, hope
To depose thee too, and dare heavens surprising.
Hear, O JOVE, hear their blasphemies,
How all their wickednesse on thee they father.
Cheating the world with pious lies,
Saying, their rules from thy instinct they gather.
Dost thou not hear it boldly said,
JOVE bids us break all antient laws asunder?
(At the dire speech ASTRÆ fled)
Or hearing it, why sleeps so long thy Thunder?
Was it not worth one bolt to save
Him, who the world thy truest copy deem'd?
Whom all good men in reverence have,
Who thy laws highly, as we his, esteem'd?
Whom wilt not tempt, when these, they see
The great prosperitie of evill secures,
Away from down-trod right to flee?
When wrong, with the fair bait, successe, allures?
So would it be, but that there are
A wiser few, that know on high there fitteth
O'th world, an upright Governour,
And every thing is best that he permitteth.
“We know a punishment it be
“To evill to prosper, nor shall long endure.
“The wicked's false prosperitie,
“Though justice slowly moves, she striketh sure.