University of Virginia Library

Scen. 4.

Rhodon, Martagon, Violetta, Acanthus.
Rho.
Know Martagon, that as no dynasties can stand,
No Empires long subsist, unlesse they be
Supported by the Columnes of true equity:
So shall that gouernment of thine decay,
Since thy oppression makes the weake a pray.

Mar.
Tis no oppression for to punish those,
That have transgrest the Lawes, as I suppose.

Vio.
The lawes (Colossus) proud, uniust tyrant,
That dost observe nor equity nor law,
But by the torrent of ambition hurry'd,
Dost act what lawlesse passion prompts thee to:
What Lawes have I transgrest? it is thy might,
That into seeming wrong hath chang'd our right:
Had Fortune beene as just as was our cause,
We that are censur'd now for breach of Lawes,
Maugre thy viprous hate, had now bin free,
And for thy foule injustice censur'd thee.

Mar.
And is your pride Virago still so high?
That it doth over-top your misery.
Cann't sorrow strike thee dumbe, can no disaster,
The liberty of thy tongue over-master.

Ac.
Nay, be assur'd (proud man) not any smart,
Can cure the courage of a valiant heart:
No force a heart of adamant can breake;
And loosers must, and shall have leave to speake.

Rho.
No more Acanthus: heare me Martagon:
Wilt thou give Violetta what's her owne?
Wilt thou restore her right and due possessions?
And make a recompence for all oppressions,
That happy peace with joy and plenty crown'd,
May in the fields of Thessaly be found?

Mar.
This will I doe,
When seas shall be drunke dry by Phœbus beames,
And when the lesser starres shall drinke the streames.
This will I doe,
When of my life and freedome I am weary,
Non minor est virtus quam qua rere parta tueri.

Ac.
Before this guiltlesse woman shall endure
Such shamefull injuries: thy selfe assure
Ile empty all these azure rivulets
Of their virmilion streames; and quite discharge
This contemn'd bulke of mine, of living ayre;
And stretch'd upon the gelid bed of death,
Ile to the world this Epitaph bequeath,
Here lyes a Swaine that spent his deerest blood,
To kill a Tyrant for a Virgins good.

Ma.
Bold heroe doe thy worst, what I have won
I nere will part withall till life be done.

Rho.
Tenacious Tyrant, in whose flinty heart
Nor equity, nor justice ere had part:
Assure thy selfe thy guilty soule shall feele
Revenges hand, arm'd with a scourge of steele.

exeunt.