 | Filli Di Sciro. Or Phillis of Scyros |  |
Scen. 1.
Oronte, Perindo, Sireno, Ormino.Oront.
Let all the rest stay there:
And thou Perindo follow me, and see
Those two old Shepheards come along with thee.
Siren.
Quickly Ormino come, do'st thou not hear?
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Where fear of danger wounds a trembling soul
The foot goes slowly on.
Perin.
Great Sir, we all are ready, but will you
Without attendance, or without your Guard
Thus wander here alone?
Oronte.
In such sweet fields, amidst a sort of men
So harmless as these are, we have no need
With armed Squadrons to secure our Guard.
I left my Tents that here I might enjoy
The fresh delightful air, which in these fields
Breaths with a gentle gale, and so allayes
The horrour of the rough tempestuous blasts
Which did infest the Sea
And he that will enjoy the pleasure of
Such pleasant fields must not be troubled with
The State and Pomp with which we use to grace
Our City Train.
O blessed Meddow! O delightful Grove!
See with what pleasing shadows it doth shield
The flowers from withering in the scorching heat
Of the Suns burning beams. Behold a true,
A perfect Pastoral Scene, wherein we see
The Sea on this hand, and the Hills on that;
And round about us, Flowers, and springing Plants,
Fresh Rivers, Shades, and the bright Heavens above
Have fram'd a glorious Theater.
Come forward friends, and whil'st the gentle Ayr
Thus sweetly breaths, I will pursue at length
The sad relation of your Childrens Fate.
Orm.
For pitties sake, great Sir, tell me, doth yet
My Thirsis live? tell me but that, and then
The rest tell at your leisure.
Oron.
Give ear I say;
When I within the spacious Hall had plac't
Those Troops of little Infants, so to be
Presented there to the grand Signiors view,
As if the World had then grown young again:
Whilst he beheld them all attentively,
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Amongst the rest who seem'd more rudely bred,
Saucie and bold: Your children gave themselves
With such a comely wantonness to play
The little momes, and with such activeness,
To beautifie their harmless innocence;
That his great spirit mollifide therewith,
Seem'd with a smile somwhat to qualifie
The terrour of his more severe aspect;
And reaching forth his hand (that hand which us'd
Onely to manage Scepters, and rude Arms)
Gently he stroakt them underneath the chin:
And though he kist them not, yet men might see
Upon his lips th' affection of his heart,
And that to me he said, Mark me Oronte,
Me-thinks I see in these two little Imps
The signs of two such admirable souls,
As that it seems (if in the outward shape
Of humane visage, heaven use to write
The marks of Fate, or I ought understand)
(And more than he doth no man understand)
That these two children are by destiny
Design'd to more than ordinary ends,
And to some great atchivements; therefore see
They be not with the rest conducted to
The Grand Serraglo; but be it thy care
To see them Educated by themselves;
And here in Court, instructed in more free,
And generous Arts, and taught to spend their time
In studies, fitter for their Genius.
I undertook the charge, and they became
So dear to me, as though I never saw,
Child of mine own, nor had the joy to know
A fathers happiness, yet did I feel,
My heart possessed with a fathers care.
And fraught with as much love to your young babes
As they had been mine own.
And whilst your children thus encreast in years,
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Beauty and judgement: but beyond all this,
Ile tell you now a wonder: That quaint boy
The little God of love, as it should seem,
And as I verily beleeve it true,
Playing with them as children use to play:
By chance did hurt them both, and with his darts.
Made large wide wounds, in their small tender hearts,
Oh what a dear delight it was to see,
Two little pretty loving souls express,
Their pretty childish loves, with tongues which yet
Could hardly mutter either Pap or Mam,
For scarcely could they draw their vital breath,
Before they both had learned to breath out
Deep sighes of love: and scarcely were their eyes,
Open to see the Suns bright shining beams,
Before they knew with sweet delight to gaze
And dart forth amorous looks.
Sometimes you might behold those tender hands,
Which scarcely yet knew how to smooth the Tears
Of their beloved Nurse, already grown,
So pompt and nimble in loves gentle art;
As they had Learnt to strooke each others cheekes
And frame unto themselves Rings quaintly wreath'd
Within their curled Locks.
And if at any time that native grace
Which deck't their lovely faces did appear,
More beautiful then other, they would then
As if it were by stealth run to embrace,
And hug each other with delightful kisses:
So that whilst they thus wantonly did woe,
Love seem'd himself to play the wanton too.
And hence the King enamoured with their wiles,
One day cal'd to me, and bespake me thus:
So ripe a love as this cannot be held
The meer effect of such young tender years.
It must proceed from Heaven, and Heavens power
Doth never work in vain: It is decreed.
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And I am pleas'd with what the Heavens will.
But ah the Heavens are too far esloign'd,
Above our reach, nor can our humane sence.
Attain to see what is decreed above:
For long it was not, ere a sickness seas'd
The bold grand Signor, and possest him so,
As he already thought his fatal hour
Approaching neer, already he dispos'd
Himself to take his last farewel on Earth.
And yet among his greater cares, and when
His heart was thus encumbred with thoughts:
He could not then forget to think upon
His two beloved lovers, whom he caus'd,
To be conducted to his Royal view,
And placed there, where he thus unto them spake.
My little children, I must shortly pay
The debt I owe to nature, nor shall I,
Live here to see you both enjoyn'd in one.
I am too old, and you of too young years,
Yet I will see you both betroth'd; this knot
Doth neither pass your judgement, nor your age.
Reach each your hand to other, and let Heaven
Prosper the plighting of so pure a faith,
Confirm'd with hands of so much innocence:
Thus they t'wixt joy and grief, joyn'd both their hands
And weeping seal'd their promise with a kiss.
Whilst that great King drew forth a Hoop of Gold.
Which underneath his Pillow, he had plac't.
In whose round Circle were engrav'd by art
Certain Egyptian Characters, and to confirm
What there was writ, with more authority:
His Sacred Image, was cut out thereon:
The Hoop was double, so that either part
When it divided was, made one entire
And perfect circle, but the Charracters
Were then defac't, and cut off in the midst.
Whose half on this part was, and half on that.
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With either parts the naked tender necks
Of his two spoused Imps: And to them said
This one day shall be witnesse of your Love
And of the favour which I bear you both.
Which said he turn'd his face as it appeares
Or to restrain, or to conceal his tears,
And I remov'd your children streight from thence
And with such goods as then most precious were
Conveigh'd them to my Castle, as afraid,
(Oh fond and foolish humane providence!)
Of those foul broyls and rapines, which are wont
Most commonly to wait upon our funerals,
At such great Princes falls.
In this mean space a false alarum spread
As false a rumour that the King was dead:
And those that wish't it did beleeve it true.
'Mongst whom the King of Smyrna past for one,
Who thus emboldened on a suddain flew,
Upon the Thracian confines, and advanc't
His armes so far, till at the last he came
Unto that Castle and begirt it round
By night, took, sackt, and burnt it to the ground.
Orm.
And were our children there, (Ay-me consum'd)
In that so fatal flame?
Oron.
One of my servants whom the darksome shade
Of gloomy night befriended to escape
The enemies fierce hand, assur'd me that
One of the Smyrna souldiers snatch't them both
Alive out of the flames.
Orm.
And live they prisoners then in Smyrna still?
Oron.
I fear it much. For mark,
The news of all this barbarous excess
Arrived soon at Court, when yet the King
Had onely so much sence and livelyhood
As serv'd to hear it told: He heard the wrong
And injuries he suffer'd, and his heart
Inflam'd therewith. Just anger did so warm
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His flitting soul, that it might once more prove,
A trusty Minister to execute,
His just revenging wrath:
But his faint enemy when once he heard
That he yet lived, the rumour of whose death
Had onely given courage to his fears.
Betook him quickly to a shameful flight,
And to appease the Kings just anger first,
And next, that with more ease he might escape.
Unto Bisantium, he sent the spoyls;
And all the prisoners he had.
Orm.
And our poor children too?
Oront.
Those onely wanted, those were onely they
Were missing whom alone the King desired,
And for this cause, a far more mortal war,
And a more deadly hatred he proclaim'd
Against the King of Smyrna, if ere long
Untouch't uncharm'd; he did not send him back
Those pretty slaves, whom he alone did lack.
The one denies to have them in his power,
The other will by no means give belief
To such a lean excuse: but needs will have
His children or a most severe revenge:
Thus both sides vow themselves to Armes again.
And by the fierceness of a cruel War,
The fruitful fields of Smyrna are layd wast
And buryed in destruction, so that now,
Smal hope remains that ever we shall see
Your children more whom we have thus in vain
Laboured to finde under the ruines of
That poor decaying Kingdom.
Orm.
O most unhappy children!
Sir.
But parents more unhappy far then they.
Oront.
Unhappy children, and unhappy Sires.
But yet in this more happy then the rest,
That their unhappiness hath been bewail'd
With floods of tears sent from his sacred eyes,
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Orm.
Unhapy tears, unhappy blood so shed,
Unable to restore life to the dead.
Per.
These poor old Shepherds weep, and at their plaint,
Oronte seems a little troubled.
'Twere not amiss then to divert them: Sir,
The Sun already mounts the highest track,
Of his most glorious Sphere, that to the West
He may descend with a more swift carreer,
And yet (as you know well) no choise is made
Of such young Infants as we come to finde.
No Trumpet yet accustomed to proclaim
Your safe arrival here, hath summon'd them
To meet you in the Temple.
Oront.
Let us return then to our Tents, and you
Sad Shepherds lead us to some shady path,
Towards the Sea, and let this comfort you.
Dead or alive, where ere your children be,
In Heaven or Earth, they needs must win the love
Of men below, or of the gods above.
Sir.
Kind, gentle, Sir, The gods above vouchsafe
To you that comfort which cannot be found,
For us on this uncomfortable ground.
| Filli Di Sciro. Or Phillis of Scyros | |