University of Virginia Library

Act IIII.

ABBAS,
BELTAZAR.
Come BELTAZAR, how have you us'd your power?

Bel.
May't please your Majestie, a mutuall league
Offensive and defensive we could not
Obtain, but upon tearmes too low for us.
The Turk is yet too high, and stands upon
Rendition of those Townes you hold of his,
Which would disfurnish you of many men
Fit for your other wars; so'a Truce is all
We've made, but so long, 'tmay be call'd a peace,
'Tis for three years.

Abb.
‘These truces yet in war
“Are only like the well daies in an Ague,
“Short intervalls of health, that flatter us
“Into debauch, and make the next fit worse.
“Nor should we suffer a disorder follow
“To save a war, because that war's not sav'd,
“But only put off to our disadvantage.—
But how took our stout Captains their casheering?

Bel.
full heavily and mutter'd mutiny.
EMANGOLY here at the Town was met
With your arrest, and seisure of his places.
Which he seem'd to put off with no more trouble
Then he would do his Armes after a march,
Or a hard charge, to take a nap of sleep.

Abb.
Gunning dissembler! How took ELCHEE
His banishment from Court?

Bel.
As a school-boy
That has plaid treuant, and hears his Master's angry.

Abb.
There's hopes of him; but th'other is quite lost.

ABBAS,
FATYMA, BELTAZAR.
What's that my FATYMA.

Fat.
'Tis a petition
From a poor subject, wrong'd by a great Lord,
Too strong for him to struggle with at Law,
Nor has he wherewithall to pay for justice.

Bel.
The case holds in himselfe, and his brave Son.

[aside.
Abb.
Our justice, FATYMA, shall be given, not sold.
'Twas wisely done, who ere he be, to send it
By thy hand, (sweet) of all the deerest to me.
'Tis granted.

Fat.
Heaven will pay the early mercy.

Abb.
Take you the scrowle, BELTAZAR, and see right done.

ABBAS,
FATYMA.
But child thou shew'st thy selfe as unconcern'd
At all the pleasures of the Court, and seemst
A discontent.

Fat.
Alas Sir, how can I
Relish these toyes, when my poor Father pines
And raves, mewd up in Prison? Is the daughter
Fit for a Court, and Father, Mother, brother
But for a dungeon?—

[She weeps.
Abb.
Come, these thoughts will over,
As time and more discretion wins upon thee.
Its fit thou be as free from the reward
Of his foul treasons, as thou wert from them.
He may be yet restor'd; how ere, his Name,
Though stain'd with this one blot, shall ever stand
Full and Majestick in great Historie,
For noble acts yet shall those Histories
And after times boast thee his chiefest Act,
That fame him most.—But which of all the pleasures
That court thee here, dost thou most favour child?

Fat.
Musick; it feeds my melancholy, and
Brings Paradise into my thoughts. OLYMPA
Tells me the soul is only harmony,
And Musick built the world.

Abb.
Come child, within
Thou shalt have some shall please thee.

Fat.
'T must be sad then.

MAHOMET-ALLYBEG,
ELCHEE.
He was indeed the very soul of war,
The thunderbolt: had TYPÆUS fought like him,
Great JOVE had been his Prisoner.

Elc.
Heavens! whose ears
Have not his Trumpets tingled in! what fears
In Persia's foes, have his brac'd Drums awak'd!
What enemies face has not his hand besmear'd
With blood and glorious dust! what land, what fields
Has not his sword manur'd with hostile blood!
Whose triumphs have not his deafned! his, heard
To, and beyond Byzantiums walls of fire!

Mah.
But now, O lost, lost is our hope, our glory,
And fortune of our name, except—

Elc.
Except!
My Lord, and can yet all the Gods, if they
Should sit in counsell, form a remedie?

Mah.
Yes, yes, dear ELCHEE, there's a way yet open
To rescue Persia's glory, and our comfort.

Elc.
O speak it, and be our good Genius.

Mah.
And 'tis, my Lord, a way wherein the Love
I bear to you, would have you high and eminent.
Nature and vertue have done their parts in you,
And Art and education better'd both,
The dignities and honours that you hold
Are no more then your birth assign'd you to,
Were your parts lesse. I'd have those scores of merit
You've put upon the age, paid double to you,
But how the course the King now takes, will do it,
Your new disgrace at Court assures you;
So that if justice, honour, or endearments,
Were silent all, the many disobligements
The King has given you, call you loud enough
To th'Princes Party.

Elc.
I, my Lord, have studied
Not to divide my soveraigne from himselfe,
His interest, and the Princes, I count one,
How ere his anger has now sever'd them.
And were I once assured in my reason,
That his dis-favour of the Prince were just,
I'd onely mourn his fall, as much from Vertue,
As from his honours.

Mah.
'Tis but the jealousie
Of's guilty mind, perswades this cruelty
To th'Prince, and to himselfe, he being his hope.
Good JOVE! what fears, what doubtful apprehensions
Do wicked Actions leave in cruell minds!
His Fathers Ghost, and Brothers haunt him daily,
And MIRZA he thinks, must needs requite the blows
He gave to them. Nor will this humour cease,
But grow upon him still with its fond Nurse,
Old testy age, that's subject in its self,
To fears and doubts, and sees all dangers double.

Elc.
That's his disease, my Lord, but now the cure?

Mah.
What, but a hard, and seeming violent one?
Why may'nt you martiall men, rally your powers,
Free the brave Prince, secure his hopefull Son,
And then maintain't, and force his frenzy from him?

Elc.
That looks too like Rebellion.

Mah.
O successe!
“Is a rare paint, that which succeeds is good,
“When the same Action, if it failes, is naught.

Elc.
Indeed would the young SOFFIE were safe.

Mah.
To wish it onely is but womanish,
Attempt it, and he is. Think but my Lord,
The innocent Babe calls from his prison to us,
And are these hands that never could deserve them,
So soon for fetters? Believe it, DAMOCLES sword
Hung not by a less threed, then the Kings doth
Ore that sweet hope of Persia, one mad fit
Destroyes the race and glory of the Empire.
He grows apace, and the old Tyrant knows,
“The children, whose Parents have been wrong'd,
“Inherit all their hatred, and are dangerous:
What factions then, what numbers of Pretenders
Will not with force assert their fancied Titles?
And shalt thou, fairest Mother Persia, be
Torn by the factious hands of thine own Children?
Forbid it Heaven.

Elc.
MIRZA'S deserts plead too.

Mah.
Yes, and that loud: shall I that spar'd no blood,
No toyl, dear quondam Souldiers, to adorne
Your heads with Palm, your memories with fame,
Now pine, and find no courteous hand will knock
My unworthy shackles off? Is Honour, Love,
And Gratitude, all blinded with me too?

Elc.
Who should begin?

Mah.
(It works, it works) why you,
Or I, or any body; well begun
The work's more then halfe ended. A small force,
And handsome Declaration, will find none
Such Enemies to themselves as to oppose:
Nor do the Princes high deserts, his Sons
Apparant danger, or our Honours call
Louder then our own safeties, they are too
At stake: He whose wild rage could reach a Father,
Brother, Son, and I may say, a Grand-child,
Will not spare us: but you, or I, or any,
May daily feed the monster of his fury.

Elc.
'Tis but too probable: like a mad man he'l
Hurl stones at all alike.

Mah.
And like a mad-man
His present state appears, with sorrow, I
See him like one distracted, about to murder
His best friends, and himselfe; and doth not this
Condition call for helpe? O let us pitty
The Father of our Country, and interpose
Betweene his fury and his violence.
'Tis Duty, not Rebellion: We'l restore him
To's wits againe, and then he'l thank us all,
For hindring's making of himselfe away,
How would the young mad Greek have hugg'd that servant,
Had hindr'd him in's drunken frolick, from
Murdering his friend?

Elc.
Our ABBAS jealousie,
Is no lesse wild then. ALEXANDER'S wine,
Both perfect madnesse, and the fit once over,
He'l see his error, and be sorry too.

Mah.
Then how shall they appeare lovely in story,
Firm in the Kings, the Princes Peoples loves,
That like good Angels, sav'd all that was deare
'Mong us, to Gods, to Honour, and the Empire?
An Action no lesse glorious then is ATLAS,
His bearing up the sinking Globe from ruine.

Elc.
My Lord, EMANGOLY, is well belov'd,
And now enough incens'd to make the head
Of the design, 'twill work his reconcilement
With the King too.

Mah.
No, no, my Lord, why should you
Thrust from your selfe so fair a fortune? do't,
And let me serve you in't: your hand, my head
Our Purses, and our friends together, do it.
Besides, EMANGOLY is too much disgrac'd,
And men will say his hatred to the King,
And not his love, or to the Prince, or Empire,
Put him in Armes.

Elc.
They'l say the same of me.
Bear you the name, head both the act and Plot.

Mah.
(I ne'r meant other good
[aside.
Gelden, but to ride you.)

Elc.
I shall have honour enough in serving you.

Mah.
Well Sir, Ile be no courtier with you then,
But do what JOVE shall envy, and wish his.
You'l hold the second place, Lievtenant General.

Elc.
Yes.

Mah.
Then what friends can you oblige to us?

Elc.
Ile try them all, but MATZED, young BENEFIAN,
And Stout MOZENDRA, I promise to my selfe.

Mah.
Those are sure cards; what banks have you ith'City
Will push out freely to a contribution?
“These publick works need many private purses.

Elc.
Some we shall find.

Mah.
The beautious FLORADELLA
Has promis'd largely, her I have ingaged:
We shall proceed the merrier for the Ladies.

Elc.
We'l give them back their gold to buy their silence.

Mah.
The best way to assure our selves of that,
Is to engage them deep enough; we need them
To work their friends, and to augment our treasure.
“All wars are chargeable, but civil most,
“And we that mean the publick good, must not
‘Lie heavie on the people. I intend
A guard of horse, my Government of Shiras
Will bear it out, thither I have sent SELEUCUS
To govern Larr, and raise three Regiments there,
Of horse one, two of foote. This Cittadell
Is mine and that is all that readily
Could give me any trouble; another force
Ile pick up here, the Town and Country swarm
With casheer'd souldiers, thirsting for employment.

Elc.
My Lord, what if I levyed in Hircania?

Mah.
'Tis fit, call all your friends about you here
To cast your strength up, but avoid all listing.
“Listing is dangerous in secret Plots,
“One paper lost, discovers all; take only
The great ones names, and what they promise, trust to.

Elc.
We can have no resistance suddenly,
The first must be by forreiners call'd in,
Nor can the King trust to those mercenaries,
Nor will the Persian like their comming in.
Besides My Lord, our powers may be ready
To be with us, ere they can reach the frontiers:
How ere they'l hinder the Kings levies there.

Mah.
Thou art my Oracle of war.

Elc.
But why
May we not seize the King, and cut the fear
Of all resistance off? the Princes friends
Are ours already, the rest we'l find, or make so.

Mah.
Of that at our next Councell, mean time work
Your friends as I will mine; but above all
Provide what money, and what armes you can:
“Who has the gold shall never want the man.

Elc.
Enough. Farewell my Lord, my good Lord Generall.

MAHOMET-ALLYBEG.
How shall I fall in love with mine own parts,
That have so conn'd all cunning mistique Arts!
On every side have I set wheeles a going
Shall work my purpose with their own undoing.
Torches, shall spend themselves to give me light;
Stages, for me to climb by to my height.
Then down go they then my hot credulous Lord,
And then my fine soft wench will I discard.
“The Lovers and the Courtiers Master-piece,
“And the states-mans, dissimulation is;
“High favour and sure friendship to pretend
“To him whose Throat he'l cut, to gain his end:
“This must he do, will rise, and then its best
“To swear most love, when he intends it least.

OLYMPA,
FLORADELLA, EARINA CLOE.
This, and much more we'l do, to let men see
That we can help as well as they, to save
A sinking State.

Flo.
And happy are we Madam,
In putting obligation on the present
And future ages. For this act the Prince,
The Princesse, SOFFIE; nay the King shall call us
Their Patronesses, that did timely bring
An arme to save them from their hasting ruines.

Ear.
Children unborn, and Priests not yet begotten
Shall sing our names upon high festivalls.

Oly.
And many a happy Pen shall toyle to keep
Our memories as fresh when time himselfe
Grows old and halts as now our beauties are.

Ear.
But why, sha'nt we improve the debt, the State
Owes us, by injoying offices, and sitting
In councell with the men!

Flo.
Madam y'are happy
In that conceit. Indeed we are fram'd by nature
With th'same parts o'th mind for th'exercise
Of vertue as men be.

Ear.
And if men boast
Such excellencies, it is reason to think
Those no lesse excellent of whom they are:
Since timerous Doves did never yet hatch Eagles;
But men, and beasts, and all the whole creation,
Inherit th'minds and spirits of their Parents.

Flo.
'Tis no hard task to patern in our sex
All excellent things that ever men performed,
Not arts excepted nor that active valour
That lift so many Demi-gods to heaven.
The valiant Amazons are proof enough.

Ear.
Nor do others fairnesse take away their force.

Oly.
True vertu's not oblig'd to live with beards
Alone, she may chuse the smoother edifice.
But the rough part of vertue, skill in armes
I am content to let the men ingrosse.
I have no mind to lose a breast, to wear
A shield the better Yet state offices
And to be Counsellors would become us well.
Our Witts are sharpest, and we fittest made
For Embassies, as having smoothest tongues.

Flo.
And should our Rhetorick fail, we'l but employ
Our lookes to plead, and conquer with our eyes.

Oly.
Besides, the novelties and varieties
We meet ith'state will yeeld us strange delight.

Ear.
We'l have them both; the Buffe and Fur shall be
A new and fashionable dresse, and every
Lady appear a PALLAS, with an Ægis
Vpon her breast.

Flo.
This, Madam, and what else
Our Cabinet thoughts can dictate to us shall be
All in our powers.

Ear.
Pluralitie of husbands
Would be thought on.

Flo.
Yes, and Seraglio's too
For downy, peachy chins: This, and all else
If we but ply the work. There's Madam OMAY
Is worth the winning, who has interest in her?

Oly.
There has been long a league between us strong
Enough I hope to make her hear reason from me.

Far.
She has her share too of ambition, that
Will work.

Flo.
Ambition! Madam, what are we
Without it? 'tis necessary as beauty
To a great Lady.

Ear.
What sounds high in others,
And is pride, is but needfull state in us,
And the true knowledge of our selves.

Flo.
She's rich,
And young and handsome, and you say ambitious;
Then She's well qualified.

Ear.
Handsome, in troth
At first she presents well, but then she loses
Her selfe presently.

Flo.
She does indeed—what now.

Clo.
Madam, my Lord.

[in secret
Oly.
Well, Madam, your great friend
Expects you.

Flo.
No.

Oly.
Come, come, deny him, do.

Ear.
Well, we all know our parts, and will not loiter

Flo.
The pains will pay it selfe.—Now where's my Lord?

MAHOMET-ALLYBEG,
FLORADELLA.
Here, where he would be, Dearest, in thy armes,
The Centre my soul tends to.

Flo.
Welcome, ah
Welcome hither, as conquest to the souldier.

Mah.
How do the Ladies take thy proposition?

Flo.
as their best wishes.

Mah.
Good, good ELCHEE too
Has swallow'd the hook, and promis'd his Allies.
I feel the Crown warm on my head already.
My guard is rais'd, I want but the Kings license
For their attendance; for that plead thou strongly,
Possesse him with the need of't for my safetie,
This last service having pul'd envie on me.

Flo.
It shall be granted, or I'le lowre the dotard
To death, it shall, I'le kisse it out of him.

Mah.
My better Angell! ah! how poor am I
That there are not more worlds then one, that I
Might cast their crownes into thy lap for this!

Flo.
Your love my Lord shall set me higher, then if
I rode with HECATE in her ebon Charriot,
Or held the reins of JUNO's yoaked Peacocks
To hold that heart is above all dominion.

FLORADELLA,
CLOE.
How stately a thing it is to be a Queen!
O that I now could but look into Heaven,
To see how our great sister IUNO shakes
Her Scepter ore the world, and learn her carriage!
We now must speak ith'plurall number CLOE,
Dost thou not see new Majestie spring in us,
And all our looks speak Queen?

Clo.
Madam, I would
Fortune had been as free to you as nature
Then had that honour long ago rewarded
That beauty which did ever merit it.

Flo.
CLOE, bestow thy wishes on the needy.
Fortune has humbled her selfe to us, and
Ask'd pardon for so long keeping our right
From our possession, a fault she'l now amend,
And be our servant ever. Go, provide
State Ornaments, and regall Robes for us,
Jewells will cost whole Provinces to purchase,
And yet receive new lustre from our wearing.
Hast any sisters, friends or kinswomen?
Prefer them to us, thou shalt have the favour
T'appoint our maids of honour, and a set
Of servants for us, 'gainst our Coronation.—
Dull and insensible! what, didst thou meet
Thy Mothers Ghost this morning fasting, that
Thou starest so! do not our eyes proclaime it?
And all our steps say, they are towards a Throne?—
The poverty of thy soule!—

Clo.
(She's mad, and raves!)

[aside.
Flo.
Have we not taken care for all events
That can betide us? Have not we remov'd
All that stood stiffe, and many in our way?
Goes not the levy's on? flow not friends to us?
Is not the Castle ours, and Shiras too?
Is not all ours? Or shall be when I've given
Th'old Dotard King his pasport in a kisse
To th'other world; thither a Dag, or draught,
Shall send the Prince, and a Plumb SOFFIE,
Who then is Emperour, wench, but MAHOMET
His head has laid it, and his hand shall act it,
His ready Army shall crush all gain-sayers.

Clo.
(Perhaps you too.)

[aside.
Flo.
What matter you? me too!

Clo.
(O how her Plumes would fall now, should I tell her
[aside.
What I ore-heard!)

Flo.
What is't you mumble, Gossip?

Clo.
Madam you'l pardon me, at your last meeting
But one, with my Lord MAHOMET, I was curious
To listen, and ore-heard some doubtful words,
As if he'd onely serve his turn of you.

Flo.
Pish, pish, He knew you listned, therefore spoke so,
If so he spoke, to try my confidence
Perhaps, or mock your curiosity.
No, well, he knows he never can requite
My love with a lesse dowry then the Empire;
I have deserv'd it of him, and i'l never
Be jealous of his love.

Clo.
(What toyes doth fancy
[aside.
Suggest to us, in favour of our selves!
Well, I had best comply.)—Indeed perhaps
His great wit play'd with me; but could he see me?

Flo.
Yes, my selfe saw you.

Clo.
Then 'twas so: but yet
Me thought the maner spoke him serious.
But sure the Army do's not mean his rule,
But to restore the Prince.

Flo.
Tush, Souldiers know not
Their own intents, 'tis as the Generall pleases,
Who has an Army up, and a strong Purse
May work them easily unto any thing:
'Tis done, 'tis done, my CLOE,—'tis high time
For us to practice Queen-ship; thus do we
Indulge our hand, our trusty maid of honour.

Clo.
May't please your Majestie, then must I begin
Cloe kisses her hand.
To know my selfe, and set a higher price
Upon my beauty.

Flo.
'Tis indeed a virtue,
To prize our selves enough—CLOE, as we passe,
Bear up our traine—so—Not so neer our Grace.

Clo.
High ho! my Heart! I shall have a sweet place.

MIRZA,
NYMPHADORA, SOFFIE, IFFIDA, PAGE.
O the seven Bandogs are let loose againe
Upon me! HERCULES! HERCULES! canst not heare!
Prethee lend me thy club—the Lubber's sore
With's labours still, and sleeps, and hears me not.

Nym.
Why let you him come out thus?

Sof.
Alas Madam,
He broke through's all, and cals us all his Hangmen.

Mir.
See! Lightning flashes from their eyes.

Sof.
Hark, Madam.

Mir.
Every one of them is a match for CYCLOPS,
Yet will I charge them all alone.—O—O.

Nym.
O.

Iff.
Help! help!

Sof.
Page, hold him from violence.

Mir.
Th'hast hit me right TYPHÆUS, thou hast Centaure.

He runs his head against a Post, and falls. The Princess turns away astonished, and weeps, the rest fall down about him.
Nym.
O heavens! if there be any powers that pitty
The miseries of their Creatures, look down on him;
The sight's enough to move a heavenly nature.

Mir.
So MIMAS, hold PORPHYRIO, strike no more,
I am TYPHÆUS Prisoner.

Nym.
Lay not hands
Upon him, keep him but from farther hurt.

Mir.
CHARON! oh, CHARON!—

Pag.
Nay my Lord.

Mir.
Come CHARON,
Quick, sirrah, Sculler, row me to Elyzium.

Nym.
Alas! the frenzies high talk not much to him.

Mir.
But now ha'nt I a halfe-penny for the waftage,
No matter though, I'l snatch the slaves Oare from him,
And if he grumbles, knock his brains out with it,
And CERBERUS his too, if the Cur snarls at me—
So—I am pas't without a Sop—now which
Of all my friends shall I first meet?

Nym.
O Gods!
Give me more ease, or else more punishment,
For I with this can neither die nor live.

Mir.
Who's that?—That's PROSERPINE bewailing of
Her Rape, the silly wench would faine be with
Her Mother again.

Nym.
O make me either happy
Again, or wretched till you can no more!

Mir.
'Tis so, tis she—she's warm, and soft as air.
Takes her hand.
Sweet PROSERPINE.

Sof.
Madam, apply your selfe
A little to his passion.

Mir.
Beauteous Queen
O'th'under world, do'nt men when they come hither,
Though blind above, have here their eyes restor'd?

Nym.
Alas! I cannot flatter his wild frenzy.

Sof.
Pray Madam seem to be what he conceits you.

Mir.
What art thou, GANYMED? and if thou bee'st,
Good yellow-tressed Boy, intreat thy Master,
When next he thunders, to bestow a bolt
On ABBAS head, 'twill not be cast away,
The man deserves it;—but that plague's too quick,
Desire him rather, send him PHINEUS, Harpyes,
He merits them as much as the Arcadian,
He've put out his Sons eyes too: hear'st small skinker?

Sof.
Yes, and when next I wait, I'l do the errand.

Iff.
He wants no Furies, he has all in's breast.

Mir.
Hah art thou a Furie? good TISIPHONE
Get thee to Persia then, and take thy sister
ERINNYS with thee and torment the Tyrant.

Iff.
Well sir, he shall not want for torments.

Mir.
Hark yet,
Prethee new wire thy whip before thou goest,
And tie more knots on't, take fresh Snakes too with thee;
He is my Father, I'd have him want nothing.
May all the Scorpions of Cushan sting thee.

Nym.
Ah! cruell Father!

Mir.
First TISIPHONE,
Lead me to TANTALUS, I'd faine talk with him.

Iff.
Why TANTALUS?

Mir.
'Cause he kill'd his Son too,
I'd see if's punishment be great enough,
Then I'l Petition PLUTO, my hard Father,
May have the same.

Nym.
O that the Comparison
Held whole in thee! He murdered his PELOPS,
To entertaine the Gods but ABBAS thee
To feast the furies of his frantick mind:
To PELOPS too, the yellow Goddesse gave,
A whiter shoulder for his own she tasted,
And with new better life requited him.
O that some Deity would thine eyes restore,
Or close up mine!

Mir.
Hah! that's PROSERPINA,
She's in love with me, and condoles me too,
But I'l not wrong my NYMPHADORA, though
PROSERPINA, where's my Uncle, and my Grandsire
Two Persian Princes, murdered by their Son,
And brother? I'd faine speak with them, and sit
Comparing fortunes with them.

Nym.
O they are
Bathing themselves in blisse, in their sweet Grove.

Mir.
And shall I be there too, CERES bright daughter?
Let me sweet Empresse.

Nym.
Yes, if you will rest
Your head here in my lap, and there lie still.

Mir.
But will not PLUTO then be jealous of me?

Nym.
No.

Mir.
Come then—Now tell me more of Paradise.

Nym.
There 'midst the fragrant flowre-enammell'd fields,
Do golden Pallaces their shining heads
Erect, with richest Arras each one floor'd,
Christalline Rivers flow to moat them round,
For state, not strength, and with their wanton murmurs,
Lull every sence, and make soft sleep yet softer;
Their banks are fring'd with Trees of Gold, that feast
With goodly forms the eye, with fruits the tast;
Fruits that pluck't ne'r so oft, straight spring againe,
So the rich boughs still with like mettall shine,
Under whose fragrant shades they spend their course
Of happy time with amorous Virgins, who
Regard alone their own particular loves,
Not such as tyred out in the world a life,
But there created for it, with best form,
Cows eyes, and beauteous as the Hyacinth!
Still their Virginities return, and still
Their beauties flourish as their Paradise,
For ever young, yet ripe and fresh; full blown,
Yet alwaies free from naturall pollutions,
Still as in their third lustre, men ith'fixt.
Their Boyes of divine feature minister
To them, and proffer hourly to their choices,
The most delicious Viands, Drinks, and Voyces.

Mir.
But when, but when, dear Queene of darknesse, shall I
Inherit all this bliss?

Nym.
When thou art fit for't.

Mir.
And how shall I make my selfe fit?

Nym.
By sleep.
Sleep will much purge thee from thy earthy humours.

Mir.
Sweet PROSERPINE, there is in Persia,
The fairest Lady that ere blest the Earth,
Sweet NYMPHADORA, thou must needs have heard
Of her, many worthy Hero's have
Dyed for her love; one frown (if such a face
Can frown) of hers, have given a hundred Princes
Their Pasport hither: didst nere heare them sit
And sigh her name? or see't carv'd in the rind
Of some faire Tree?

Nym.
Yes. O that love should last
Longer then reason!

Mir.
She PROSERPINA,
Will be with you ere long the noble heart
Has taken such a griefe, for her wrong'd MIRZA,
It can't last long unbroke, but when she comes,
Let not thy PLUTO see her, lest he falls
In love with her and so turn thee away,
He will PROSERPINA, let him not see her.

Nym.
Well then,—he sha'nt.

Mir.
You talk of women too,
That we shall have in Paradise; when she comes
Let me have her, she was mine own above,
And I'le not change her for all natures store.

Nym.
Admired constancy! sleep, and you shall.

Mir.
Boy, GANYMED, give me a draught of Lethe
To make me sleep,—wilt not?—I'le try without it.

Nym.
Alas! what noise is that?—Look IFFIDA.

[A noise without.
Iff.
Madam, here comes my Lord EMANGOLY,
And three or four with him.

Nym.
He were welcome,
If's comming now could be without disturbance.

MIRZA,
NYMPHADORA, SOFFIE, EMANGOLY, METHICULI, HYDASPUS, ALKAHEM, IFFIDA, PAGE.
Hah! hah! who's that? do's PLUTO come?

Nym.
No, no,
Lie still.

Ema.
We'd best retire.

Nym.
No, joyn your help
With me to calm his fury.

Ema.
O that my selfe
Had bit my unhappy tongue from th'panting root
And spit it in the Tyrants face, which falling
Had (trembling) murmur'd curses at hs foot,
When I gave counsell to my Lord t'obey
His cruell message.

Met.
O who ever yet
Saw the returning steps oth'credulous beasts,
That visited the counterfeit sick Lion?

Hyd.
And yet, O ABBAS, what fierce ravenous Lion
Did ever Lybia's fiery womb produce,
Or what fell Tyger, thy Hyrcania,
Of so prodigious cruelty, as thou art?

Alk.
Lions are tame as Lambs, and Tygers mild
As frisking kids, to that outragious monster.

Ema.
There is no perilous desart but his breast,
Where teeth and armed fangs do tear the strong
And treacherous toiles t'insnare the innocent,
Are ever ready set.

Met.
O th'cruelty
Of hate, disguis'd like love!

Ema.
And how, O Gods,
Is vertue dear to you, if thus the Serpent
Of Treason, be permitted to turn Dove,
To flatter it, by unsmelt means to ruine!

Mir.
I knew on earth a voice like that,—sure 'tis
My good EMANGOLY's—and is he here too?

Ema.
Here, my deer Lord; but O that I had been
Under the earth, when my unlucky judgment
Advis'd you hither.

Sof.
O you've spoil'd all my Lord.

Mir.
Why are we still ith'upper world? I thought
I'de past the ford.—Cheats! cheats! and fantasies!
[He starts up.
Quick then, EMANGOLY, go muster all
Our force, and see them paid, I'le march to morrow,
And never make a halt till I have kickt
Bizantium's selfe to dust. Let an Iron Cage
Be made to carry with us, for proud MORAT.
I'le try yet if his stomach be as stout
As BAJAZET'S; but line it all with furrs,
To hinder him from the pleasure of a death.

Nym.
Would he but cool with sleep his high distemper,
All these wild thoughts would vanish with his frenzy.

Ema.
Repose Sir, till the Army needs your conduct.

Nym.
Yes, my dear Lord, restore thy selfe again
Unto my care, and make my lap thy pillow.

Mir.
I will, my sweet, and ne'r would rise from hence,
Did not dear honour call as loud as thunder,
Such is my love to thee, yet could I not
Love thee so much, lov'd I not honour more.

Nym.
IFFIDA call for musick, and a song,
Gentle and soft, as Notes of dying Swanns,
To woo him into slumbers.

Sof.
That will charm him.

Mir.
The Turks already made thy Prisoner, when
I next return my selfe to thy soft breast,
His head's a present for thee.

Nym.
Hark! my Lord,
[soft musick.
How gentle rest courts thee in her best language.


SONG.
He's great that masters his own soul,
As he whose nod shakes either Pole.
Not he that Kings in chains can bring,
But that subdues himselfe's a King.
That's ever in himselfe at home,
And ne'r lets his Queen Reason roam,
On whom all passions waiting stand,
As hand-maids on their Ladies hand.
He ore himselfe triumphing first,
Dares chance and envy doe their worst;
And keeping still his own even height,
Fall Fortune heavie, fall she light,
He'l never make to th'standers by
Too low a moan, or haughty cry;
But wisely can her fawning slight,
And then as bravely scorn her spight.
Who can deny that such a one
Possesses all things, or wants none?
And which oth'two would you wish first
Still to have drink, or ne'r to thirst?

Ema.
Excellent morality! O the vast extent
O'th Kingdome of a wiseman! Such a mind
Can sleep secure when th'brine kisses the Moon,
And thank the curteous storm for rocking him.

Sof.
Come my good Lord METHICULI, you and I
Will sit, and tell sad stories; pray begin.

Nym.
Ah me! what storie canst thou hear can vie
For sadnesse with our owne? run ore the Roule
Of Tragedies, and write but NYMPHADORA
And MIRZA (for let's nere be parted more)
And that's the sum of all that grief can do.

Met.
But my Lord SOFFIE, I've a plot to free you.

Sof.
Speak it, and be my Deitie.

Met.
And once out,
I can secure you, where not all the force
The Tyrant, or the world can make shall reach you.

Sof.
But how shall I get out?

Met.
Your sister, Sir,
Has won much on your grandsires best affections,
So that if he love ought that's good, 'tis hers:
And she comes often here to pay her duty
To her dear Father, (O too much wrong'd Father!)

Sof.
Nay, pray, no circumstance, she comes, what then?

Met.
I'd have your grace change cloaths with her, and so
You vailed, may easily passe the guards, and come
Where I'le receive you.

Sof.
How shall she get out
Again?

Met.
Sir, 'twill be quickly known to the Tyrant,
Who loves her so, he'l not be long without her,
He'l send for her, and with a chiding passe it.

Sof.
But wilt not turn his rage on my dear Mother.
He'l not think this plot only FATYMA's
And mine, but hers.

Nym.
I'd suffer for thy good
All th'Tyrant now can do, the wasp has stung
Me already, and disarm'd himselfe: if rest
Restores the Princes senses, we'l advise
With him about it—How sweet securitie
He now enjoyes! O pleasant dreams! slide softly
Into him, that he takes no wounds from you.
Present his silent thoughts with purling streams
And hushing winds, such as perfume the morn.
Then mildly as thou seiz'd him gentle Goddesse,
Resign him perfect: so what was the gift
Of relenting heaven, we'l ascribe to thee.

Mir.
Ah! where am I?

Iff.
He wakes.

Nym.
Pray heaven to health.
Here my deer Lord, In thy sad spouses lap,
Yet compass'd with a ring of thy best friends.

Mir.
That Ring is sorrows Crown,—and can it be
That any will be friends to wretchednesse?
High mounted in the Courts and Armies head,
The Sun had not more Atomes dancing in
His beams, then I had followers in mine.
But even from him ecclips'd, all shadowes vanish,
And shall mine then continue?

Nym.
These are such
As vertue, not your fortune, made your friends,
And will though fortune failes, continue such,
Since your high vertue cannot ever leave you.

Ema.
If we lov'd and obey'd you, when you stood
In power, both to do us good and honour,
Which then we never could requite unto you,
We ought to publish now our gratefulnesse,
When the world sees no hopes induce us to it.

Mir.
There gratitude spoke in her Angels voice.

Met.
We have lost in you a Prince for to defend us,
A Father to care for us, a Companion
In all our joyes, a Friend in all our wants;
And if we owe to your sad memory
The pious dutie of our love and honour,
Shall we not pay them to your selfe yet living?

Mir.
Not living, say, but buried alive.

Hid.
Treasure ith'mind, is treasure still, though trodden.

Ema.
Should we desert you now, 'twould basely prove
We never lov'd your highnesse, but your fortune.

Alk.
Rather, we never lov'd his Grace, but Highnesse.

Ema.
Like vermine that suck of the living blood,
But leave the body soon as life.

Alk.
The'more Love
We ow'd you, the more should we shew our hate
To the accursed Author of our losse.
Let's rouze revenge, and arme all her dire hands
With Thunder, to discharge upon the Tyrant.

Mir.
Act, act, brave friends, and leave complaints to women;
'Twill be more honourable for my Tombe
To be sprinkled with my murderers blood,
Then with the tears of you my constant friends.

Nym.
Now have I time to shed some, but in private.
Iffida follows her out.
“They truly mourn, that mourn without a witnesse.

MIRZA,
SOFFIE, EMANGOLY, METHICULI, HYDASPUS, ALKAHEM, PAGE.
O let me not lie long in this sad durance!

Met.
This justice to the world, This duty to
Our injur'd Prince, This honour to our selves,
And terror to our foes, do strongly plead for.

Alk.
This will restore our glories lost, and put
A muzzell upon Tyrannies black jawes.

Hyd.
How shall we effect it?

Mir.
How? and have not you
The Power of the sword, the Souldiery?

Ema.
Alas! not we, my Lord, we're all casheer'd.
Your highnesse was no sooner cheated from us,
And decoy'd up to Court, to be undone,
But BELTAZAR comes down strong in commission,
To be my Collegue, that is, my superior.
We vexed at our injuries, and losse
Of you, threw up all diligence, and quitted
Counsell or action, when the minion shew'd
Power to clap a peace up, which was quickly
Done, on conditions fit for slaves, not souldiers;
The Army all disbanded, I call'd up,
Met with Arrest and banishment from Court.
Thus is their wrong secur'd by our weaknesse.

Mir.
Shall we then tamely suffer? my blind self
Will grope out Vengeance yet, and in deep makes
Incize it on the Tyrants own dull head.

Ema.
O foolishnesse of Tyranny! that the King
Should arm his foes, and thirst his own undoing!
He studies evill, and seems lost to all goodnesse,
But for his love to your sweet FATYMA.

Mir.
And loves he her? can vice then affect vertue?

Ema.
Sir, her he doth embrace with all the powers
Of a doting soul.

Hyd.
Has her still in his eye,
Nor ere seems pleas'd with ought but what she does.

Alk.
He talks of marrying her to th'King of Arabs.

Mir.
Soft, I've a better match for her in store.

Ema.
We met his Proclamation as we came
Stuft with invectives 'gainst your Grace and us
Your Highnesse grew too great, wee too much lov'd you,
Therefore the King must fear, yea, and remove you.
My treachery to the English it alledg's
That help't me to take Ormus, when 'tis known
Themselves first broke conditions, and enjoy
Still Priviledges for their service there.
This is the Costermonger ALLY-REG,
For his smooth tongue must the old King go mad
And doat upon his foes, when there is never
A Jewell in's Crown but is enamell'd
Both with your Highnesses brave blood and mine.

Mir.
I that so oft displai'd his bloody colours
I'th'martiall field, and bearded his proud foes,
I that have so inlarg'd his Territories,
And stretch't his line beyond the Caspian Sea,
Driven the Mogul into his Candahor,
To stand and see me wast his other lands.
Made Balsora th'Arabians utmost bound,
And bounded th'Tartar with th'Hyrcanian Ocean.
I that check't CYCALA'S insulting Progresse,
Torturing th'Georgians, our Confederates
With eighty thousand men, I that first chased
His bulkie Army to th'Armenian bounds,
Then forc't him fight, and gave my selfe the pleasure
To paddle ith'blood of thirty thousand Turkes:
I that did still pursue that flying General
Into Iberia, and slaughter'd all
The Turkish Garrisons in Teflis, Tauris,
Cazbeen and Babylon that year regaining
No lesse from ACHMAT to ungratefull ABBAS
Then our TAMAS lost to their SOLYMAN.
I that since that, beat that stout CYCALA
Oft as he could recruit, till the Foe vow'd
Never to follow more that lucklesse Chieftain,
Must now be th'Martyr of the Insolence
Of slaves, and a besotted Tyrants wrath.

Ema.
I that gave Ormus scepter to his hand,
And brought her Captive King to live upon
His slender Pension of five Markes a day.
I that subdued Larrs sandy Kingdom for him,
Maugre her wall of Rock, am now accused
By him for killing her King treacherously,
When he himself angry I gave him quarter
Commanded it: I now must tire out
My life in exile, or, as bad, disgrace.

Met.
And I that won the Realm of Larry Joon
Am taxt with a perfidious. Victory,
When I had died, had I return'd without it.

Ema.
Why murmur subjects when his Son escapes not

Mir.
And how could I hope other, when his Nature
Thirsts after blood as food! O when so many
Innocent subjects fell, they warned me.
What signified his wrong to the poor Christians,
His murdering of his Embassadour
To th'Turk as he'd kill all can't work his ends.

Met.
His Treachery to the Magician, set him
On work, then hang him up for conjuring.

Ema.
His murder of the sleeping Traveller,
Because his pamper'd horse but startled at him.

Hyd.
His coupling of the souldiers lustful wife
To an Asinego.

Alk.
His cutting a Clerks hand off
But for not writing fair. His wrath to th'two
Pilfering Souldiers, more for their raggs then theft.

Met.
But above all, his ore-ambitious murder
Of his brave Father, and far braver Brother.

Mir.
His Torture, Poysons, strangling with bowstrings;
Men eating Doggs, and Arts of Tyranny
Proclaim his nature, that it must be glutted
With blood, and why not ours, since 'tis best?

Met.
What better promises his irreligion,
In taking needlesse Journeies still in Lent
T'avoid fasting, under pretence of Travell?

Ema.
Our misery is his inconstancy
Like the weather about the Equinoctial,
Now a quiet breath, and gentle gale, and then
A storm so fierce, a ship can feel no helm?
Thus he'l forbid and tolerate the same thing
Oft in one year, not as his interest,
But as his variable humour swaies him.

Mir.
Go my EMANGOLY, take my bank at Ormus,
Rally with it a Troop of your old Souldiers,
And give me liberty: take my SOFFIE
Into your care, and make him safe in private.

Sof.
Sir, here's a way propounded for my freedom,
To change cloaths with my Sister FATYMA,
And go like her out hence.

Mir.
Let it be done.
Be ready to receive him, and be to him
As much a Father as thou 'hast friend to me.

Ema.
So Heaven be mine, as I his faithfull friend.

Mir.
'Tis no small benefit that this rough fortune
Discovers yet my friends, severs the doubtfull
From the assur'd, for Prosperity
At her departure took away with her
Those that were her's, and left me still mine own.
O at how vast a rate would I have bought
This fair discovery before my fall!
And when I thought my self most fortunate!
If Heaven again will my lost state restore
And wealth, i'le use them better then before!
If not, my soul not at the losse repines,
Having found friends, a greater wealth then Mines.

VASCO,
CLOE.
Lady, but that no fault or disrespect
In me to your sweet Beauties merit it,
I should afflict my self to see your Countenance
Estranged thus to your best servant.

Clo.
Sir,
I know no fault, nor is my countenance chang'd
But with my state, due gravitie increas'd.

Vas.
As how, dear Lady, since I left the Court
Is our state chang'd? I hope the cloud upon
My Lord shall not obscure me?

Clo.
No, but you
Think then I am the same you left me?

Vas.
Yes
Lady, I see no change, your lip, your eye
Has the same lustre, the same tincture on't.
If there be any change, 'tis for the better.

Clo.
Better, I know that marry; yes my hopes,
Nay certainties, are higher then before.
And shall my thoughts then bear no correspondence?
Is it no more to be chief Maid of Honour
To the Empresse of Persia, then woman to
My Lady FLORADELLA?

Vas.
(Sure she's mad!)
Empresse! we have none.

Clo.
But we shall have soon.
Follow me in, and I'le unriddle to you.
Since we are one, the secret is safe still,
And were the fortune mine, it should be yours.

Vas.
Love and amazement! what will this produce?

ABBAS,
FATTYMA, FARRABAN.
'Tis granted, pretty heart, they all shall have
Their just desires, and I truly wish
I could as safely give them liberty
As necessaries in their just restraint.
FARRABAN, see your royall Prisoners have
What they desire, fit for their condition.
Wait my fair granchild to them.

Fat.
Sir, my thanks.
Come FARRABAN.

Far.
Madam, your humble Servant.

ABBAS.
O strength of vertue! how dost thou shine forth
In this sweet Innocent! how dutifull,
How carefull, how solicitous is she
For her Parents! and shall not nature then
As well descend, as ascend? am not I
As well his father, as she his daughter? but
Here's she will turn these thoughts another way.

FLORADELLA.
[to him
Intrude not I upon your privacies?

Abb.
No, my best love, for what is more important
Then thy embrace? and what affair shall not
Vanish at thy approach, as mists at daies?
But I see businesse in thy face; come speak it.

Flo.
Though hither chiefly, love and duty brought me,
Which puts me strongly forward to your pleasure,
I have indeed somewhat to ask your Grace,
'Tis for your servant MAHOMET, his last service
Has render'd him most odious and envy'd.
The factious threaten in private, and in publick
Beard him to's face.

Abb.
There's lightning in his eyes
Shall blast all his maligners.

Flo.
They are great,
Strong, and increast much by th'cast Officers,
Most now in Town, all of the Princes faction,
So that without a guard he can't with safetie
Attend your person, or follow your affairs
Which ask his publick presence: and you know
How much your service needs him.

Abb.
He shall have part of our guards assign'd him.

Flo.
(Those can't we
Trust) that your state permits not—see himselfe.

[aside.
ABBAS,
MAHOMET-ALLYBEG, FLORADELLA.
Come MAHOMET, what need hadst thou t'employ
Any tongue but thine own in thy just suit?
Thou maist do more with me, my MAHOMET, raise
For thy securitie, what guards thou pleasest.

Mah.
I willingly could have spar'd this needlesse state,
Could I securely attend your service:
But though arm'd with my innocence, I fear not
JOVES Thunder-bolts yet, “Wise prevention
“Is the first point of wisdome in a Peer.
Sir, here is a commission, please you hear
It read, and sign it?

Abb.
Give me it, MAHOMET,
We'l sign it without reading, we dare trust thee,
Farther then this.

Flo.
Your Highnesse may.

Abb.
We know it.

Flo.
Dear, thou knowest when to meet at Madam OMAY's
[They whisper.
The consultation's there, you had the watchword?

Mah.
I know the time, and will not loiter, deerest,
Since 'tis for thee I work.

Flo.
And I for thee.

Abb.
A Masque attends me, thou shalt sweet partake it:
Thou MAHOMET hast something else to do.

MAHOMET-ALLYBEG.
Yes, I have that to do, shall undo you,
I erre, 'tis done not Heaven can hinder it.
But should th'whole Machine oth'design crack, which
Would more amaze the world then brutish thunder,
The pleasure I have given my selfe to see
To what a height I've wound this strumpets soul,
Would almost pay my pains: How sure she makes
Her selfe, of what I never mean her fortune!
Then when I rise fresh in my summer glory,
And throw her off, like a course robe I wore,
Only to shield me from my colder winter.
Who will not say, I cunnings Master am,
That can deceive, and that in their own game,
Greatest deceivers when they me shall know
Out-cheat a woman, and a strumpet too.

VASCO.
Am I awake! or do I live! what torrent
Of evills have over spread thee Persia?
Is justice cripled? and the furies all
Let loose to act their Gambols in the world?
Dire secret of the direct Treason! how
It swells within me till I be delivered
Of it at my Lords ear! He happily
May stop its course: then was my love well plac't
To sift out this; and though I die this night,
I've liv'd to be most happy, and the ages
To come shall pay thanks to my memory.

MIRZA.
[on his Couch alone.
Blinded! imprison'd! pining here for want
Of what each debaucht Ruffian spends in riot!
And by command of my own Tyrant Father!
A proper Patrimony! If the Turk
Had us'd me thus, my fall had been with honour,
And heart held up with hope, whilst I had had
A Father to command Revenge, and friends
To act it home: But when those friends are thus
Fetter'd, disgrac'd, and torn from my assistance,
And nature too turn'd backward in my Father,
What have I left me, but to curse my starrs?
Starrs! ignes fatu! glittering Meteors!
That made a show of greatnesse, and in snuff
Now loose their glimmering false light, and stink!
Unnaturall Monster! have I left so oft
For thee, and for thy safety, the embrace
Of my fair Princely spouse? abandoned
My self to all the sufferings and hazzards
Of bitter and long war, to have this Triumph?
O that I could relieve my soul with vengeance!
In my last sleep I saw the wandring Ghosts
Of my great Uncle, and wrong'd Grandfather
Squallid and pale, attended with an Army
Of murder'd spirits, all my Fathers crimes,
Calling loud to me for revenge, revenge,
Both for the love I bear them, and my self.
I'th'head of these gnashing her teeth with ire
Came frowning NEMESIS, offering a whip
Of folded snakes to my impartiall hand.
My soule's now like a boistrous working Sea
Swelling in billows for disdain of wrongs,
And tumbling to and fro from Bay to Bay,
Nothing can calm it but full wrought Revenge.
Stern Goddesse! I adore, and give my self
To thy dispose. O point me but a way
To work thy ends and mine! My arm is short
And shackled thus with Irons, I can't reach
The Tyrants heart, how shall I serve thee then
When strait she calls to me with bended brows,
Reach him in's Favourites: 'las! ALLYBEG
Is strong ith'Courts and Tyrants affections,
But he has Marble walls, and Iron barrs
T'ween him, and me. But FATYMA comes to thee,
She saies: and she's the Idoll of his soul,
Rob him of her. Shall I through my own sides
Wound him? and to deprive him of a Grandchild,
Tear from my self a daughter, no lesse dear
And dutifull to me, then she's to him?
But I am great with child of indignation
And cannot be delivered but by vengeance,
And no revenge but this is in my reach.
I shall but send her to the pleasant Groves,
Give her at once Heaven and the Tyrant Hel,
Hell in his thoughts, Hell in his Conscience,
And that same Hell of his is Heaven to me.
It is decreed: She dies to make him do so.
O sweet revenge! how I thirst now for blood,
And burn more then I lately did for drink,
In my wild feaver hottest fit?—who waits there?

SOFFIE,
MIRZA, NYMPHADORA, IFFIDA.
Call'd you my Lord?

Mir.
Yes child, is FATYMA come

Sof.
Not yet Sir,

Mir.
SOFFIE, art thou prepar'd
For freedom when she comes.

Sof.
Sir, as you please.

Mir.
yes, thou shalt go to Libertie, though I
Repent thy absence.—O, my great resolve!
[in secret.
If I must fall, I'l pul down Persia with me,
And have no lesser Monument then an Empire.

Nym.
And when th'art free, and in EMANGOLY'S care
Think oth'restraint thy Parents here endure,
And seek with all discreet care to redresse it.

Sof.
I shall not rest till then.

Iff.
Here's FATYMA.

MIRZA,
NYMPHADORA, SOFFIE, FATIMA, IFFIDA.
Come child.

Fa.
Fate is not yet all cruelty.

Nym.
What's this I see child in thy face of mirth?

Fat.
Madam, I have got Licence of the King
For all you can desire but Liberty.

Mir.
And without that what can we here desire
Worth satisfying?—Come hither FATYMA,
Stand here between my knees.—(Sweet innocent!
[in secret.
Ah! that I could but now forget all Father,
Or else be like mine own, and leave all goodnesse!)
Sweet child, art thou contented to stay here,
And let thy Brother 'scape in thy attire?

Fat.
Most willing Sir.

Nym.
Thy Grandsire will not let
Thee lie here long in misery like us.

Fat.
Would I might still stay here to wait on you,
I'd rather so.—My Lord METHICULI
Is at the Castle gate waiting for some body.

Sof.
That is for me.

Fat.
Come Brother let's change cloaths.

Mir.
Stay FATYMA, suppose thy Grandfather,
Why say I so? thy Fathers Murderer,
Should now grow angry with thee for this change,
How wilt thou bear his wrath? child, canst thou die?

Fat.
Yes Sir, if you will have me; to die and sleep
They say is one, and after Death we wake
In a fresh Paradise where joyes abound.

Mir.
All joyes are there, there once, for all the world
Thou wouldst not be a minute here again.

Fat.
But Sir, shall I not want your Presence there?
And my dear Mothers? and my Princely Brothers?
I love you better then all joyes beside.

Mir.
Pretty ignorance! thou goest but before,
Wee soon will follow thee. In the mean time,
There shalt thou meet thy Uncle and great Grandsire,
They will make much of thee, and shew thee all
The glories there, the green and fragrant fields,
Ripe fruits that ne'r decay. Soft melting songs
And Carolls of the Golden-feather'd birds
Shall lull thee asleep: then shalt thou wake agen
To see the Nymphs and Virgins dance about
The silver Rivers, they shall take thee in,
And make thee Mistris of their sprightly Revells.

Fat.
Would I were there, if you would follow, but
I'l not be there without your company.

Mir.
I'l follow thee sweet heart, when I have got
Revenge enough upon the doting Tyrant:
Mean while—(O NEMESIS! see! I obey thee!
[in secret.
Act thou my shaking hands, and be my Goddesse!)
Go thou before me, and prepare my way.—

Iff.
O Heavens!

Sof.
O Gods! what fury's this!

He takes Fatyma by the neck, breakes it, and swings her about. The Princesse Soffie and Iffida in vain hang about him to save the child.
Nym.
My Lord, my Lord, 'tis FATYMA you kill.

Mir.
I therefore kill her because FATYMA.
She could not die more innocent, nor I
Get better vengeance on the Tyrants head
Lie thee there till another comes.—

Fat.
O—O—

He throws her down. She dies.
Nym.
Ah me! sweet babe! is all the world turn'd Monster?

Sof.
Ah! my dear Sister!

Mir.
SOFFIE, come hither,
No?—

Nym.
Fly dear SOFFIE.

Iff.
Fly, fly, my Lord.

Mir.
Come hither or be wretched.

The Princesse and Iffida fall a chafing of Fatyma, till seeing the Prince groap after Soffie too, they rise, & hold him, till Soffie escape.
Nym.
O my Lord,
Why will you wrong your vertue thus to murder
These pieces of your selfe?

Mir.
Because the Tyrant
Loves them and lov'd he me I'd kill my self too,
But since he doth not, I will live to spight him.
The 'worlds too little to satiate my revenge.

Sof.
Page! Guard! ope, ope, O ope the doors and save me,

FARRABAN,
PAGE. Guard.
[To them.
Rundown, sir, run that way.—Horror and Furies!

[To Soffie.
Mir.
Take you all.—dogs! wher's SOFFIE?

Far.
Escap'd
From your wild rage.

Mir.
My curse shall overtake him.

Far.
We'd best bind him.

Pag.
Hold, gently, gently, sir.

Nym.
Ah! the sweet soul is fled, fled, never, never,
She chafes Fatyma again.
O never to return.

Iff.
Ah. sweetest Mistris!

Mir.
Then carry her to my Father as my Present,
'Twil make my peace with him, he'l love me now
For doing this Act, 'tis so like his own.

Far.
'Twill make all good men—

Pag.
Pray sir speak not to him.

Mir.
Look down, look down great Uncles Ghost, and see
Where ABBAS Jewell lies! the sight will give thee
A riper joy then thou dist feele, when thy
Dread hand struck off CARAEMIT's proud head.
'Tis I that must revenge my self and you.
Come Page, attend me to my Dungeon,
There will I boast my parcell Vengeance,
And study more, and ruine th'whole Creation
But I will make the Tyrant hang himself.

Far.
Good Heavens! how rage Beats men out of themselves!

Nym.
Bring in the precious body IFFIDA,
I cannot yet bewail her fate nor mine,
Too great for words is my vast misery:
“Small Griefes make men lament, Great stupify.

SOFFIE,
METHICULI.
O my good good Lord! the saddest accident!
My Father has kill'd with his own hands my Sister,
The Castle is all in an uproar at it,
In which I escap'd, else he had kill'd me too.

Met.
Thank Heaven you have so—come my Lord, this is
No place for talk, quick, let us hast away.

Sof.
Fast as you please my honour'd Lord, & whither

EMANGOLY,
VASCO.
He muffles Soffi in his Cloak, and carries him away
What horrours seize me! that the world should thus
Be all abandon'd to the furies envy!
Sure this is but to cheat us!

Vas.
No my Lord,
Though CLOE told it with such confidence,
The horror was not able to perswade me,
Till first I ran to OMAY'S Garden House;
There the Conspirators are all to meet,
The house preparing and the entertainment.

Ema.
Dire discoveries! VASCO, this you'l swear,
And with your blood maintain?

Vas.
I will sir.

Ema.
Come then,
Though banished, I'l venture to the King,
And break his hasty order for his good.
How happy art thou to discover this?
Thou shalt be Persia's Genius, she shall pay
Devotions to thee: and how blest am I
To be an instrument to save my Country!
O Heaven! how bounteous art thou to mankind!
When we rush on to ruine, mad, and blind,
Thou cast's a bit upon our furious hast,
To curb us for our good, and from our wast
Preserve us 'gainst our wills! Whence is it, whence
That the world stands but from thy providence,
Truth-loving JOVE? Thou wilt not suffer wrong,
However great, to go unpunisht long;
Or although long to us, and to sense past
All hope, yet full-paid vengeance comes at last.
“Thy certain Justice ever ready stands,
“And though she 'has leaden feet, she 'has Iron hands.

CHORUS.
A passion stronger then the rest
No more call love,
Since dire revenge in a wrong'd breast
More strong doth prove.
She breaks all bands for her desire,
Blood is her food,
She treads down all things in her ire,
Though just or good.
Ore love it selfe she triumpht hath,
Oft having forc't
Fierce hands in the dear bloud to bath
Which they lov'd most.
The fierce Oarysian Queen to take
Revenge upon
Her husband, for her sisters sake,
Butcher'd her son
As to the wood a Tygresse wild
A Fawn doth trail:
She drag'd to a close room the child.
Where nought avail
His tears, his banishments, or both
To calm her blood,
Revenge stood by gnashing her teeth,
Expecting food.
O rage of women! though the boy
T'her bosom clung,
She him (nor turn'd her face away)
Stab'd as he hung.
He kis't, she stab'd O dire reward
His kisses got!
The pavements blusht with blood besmear'd
Though she did not.
This proves not she her sister priz'd
Before her Boy,
But that all are by rage despis'd
For cruell joy.
And that revenge might ore men too
Her Triumphs see,
We have a Father late did doe
As much as she.
A Father, by his held in thrall,
His daughter kill'd
'Cause her the Grandsire above all
Things precious held.
Since his revenge could reach no more
O rages sway!
The Jewell of this soul he tore
From him away:
Carelesse, so him, himself to strike,
Hope flatter'd so,
What that to PROGNE's, this the like
T'his Sire would doe.
Go innocent Princesse Martyr go
Of Rage and Fate,
And in thy checker'd Grove below,
Embrace thy Mate.
ITYS and FATYMA there shall cling
Into a pair,
Him sweetest birds shall ever sing,
And MUSES her.
Impute not thou the crime, O JOVE,
And breach of Lawes
To th'Actor, but to them that gave
The cruell cause.