University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Field.
Enter Ziphares bloody, with Souldiers.
Ziph.
Are these, are these the Masters of the World?
O my brave Friends, how have you fought to day!
You fought, as if you all had Mistresses,
Who from some Battlement beheld your Valour,
And from your Arms expected all their Fortune:
Oh, had you heard 'em clap their tender hands,
Beat their white Breasts, and rend the wond'ring Heav'ns
With their shrill cryes, you cou'd not have done more;
Your looks were Basilisks to Roman Blood,
Your very Breath was as the furious North,
And drove the Legions, like the Chaff, before you.
Nor was I idle; witness the wounds I feel,
Tho Glabrio, at distance, shun'd the force
Of my far-darted Javelin, yet it struck
A Tribune down, and did not useless fall.
What more remains, but that we haste to meet
Victorious Archelaus, plunder their Tents,
And loaded with the Laurel we have won,
March to Synope, shouting all the way,
Long live the King of Kings, great Mithridates?

Enter Archelaus, attended.
Arch.
O Prince! thou Life, thou Soul of all the Army,
To whose dear hand thrice I did owe my life,
When thrice this day my Horse was kill'd beneath me;
O Renown'd day! this one day of thy Valour
Has drown'd in dark Oblivion all my Wars:
Like Time it self thy Glory shall run on,
While mine, my fifty Iron-years of battel,
Lies smeer'd in dust, and moulder into Ashes.

Ziph.
Yes, Father, now I cou'd grow proud of Conquest,
Since it must give your Daughter to my Arms.
Methought to day, when I had given the word,
Semandra, Victory declar'd her self
E're yet a Death by any hand was given:
Ev'n now my blood more heats my youthful veins,
My Cheeks grow redder, with the expectation
Of Love's dear promis'd joys, than when I strove
In flame of fight, with all my toil upon me,
To cut my way, and win the famous Field.

Arch.
Grant me, you Gods, before the hand of Death
Comes, like Eternal Night with-her dark Wing,
To bar the comfortable light for ever
From these my aged eyes; O let me see
A Grandchild of my Princes Sacred Blood,
To call him mine, to feel him in my Arms,
To hear his innocent talk, and see him smile,
While I tell Stories of his Fathers Valour,
Which he in time must learn to imitate:
Grant me but this, you Gods, and make an end,
Soon as you please, of this old happy man.

Ziph.
I feel a gladness lightning in my breast,
The kindled joy disperses quickly through me,
And says, E're yet the setting-Sun has quench'd
His Love in his cold Mistress Bed,
Semandra shall be mine; ev'n all Semandra:
The thought is Extasie! these Arms shall hold her
Fast to my throbbing Breast; these ravish'd eyes
Gaze till they're blind, with looking on her Blushes;
These stifling Lips shall smother all her Smiles,
And follow her with such pursuit of Kisses,
That ev'n our Souls shall lose themselves in pleasure.

Arch.
First, send a Flying Messenger, with news
Of our great Victory.

Ziph.
Ziphares self
Must be the Harbinger of his own joy:
I'll go, with the best-mounted Cavalry,
While you behind conduct, on easie March,
The weari'd Army. Once more let me lock
My Father thus.

Arch.
My heart bodes happiness.

Ziph.
'Twere sin to doubt, since Fortune had no hand
In what our Swords by dint of Valour won:
She to the Brave was ever a curst Foe;
But I at last have bound her to my Chariot,
By Conquering Virtue to be drag'd along;
And while her broken VVheel is proudly born,
She shall be forc'd our Triumph to adorn.

Exeunt severally.