University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The outer-part of the Temple of the Sun.
A noise of Musick and tuning Voices is heard.
Enter Pharnaces, Pelopidas.
Phar.
To Night, to Night, this fatal Moment, now
Our dreadful Father's Nuptials are preparing,
And I must lose bright Monima for ever.
Ambition too is barr'd, Scepters and Crowns,
And all the golden Quarries now are lost.
Zphares, O Ziphares! happy Brother,
Thou hast dislodg'd me by thy late Exploits,
And now usurp'st my Father's Brest alone.
Curs'd be the Pow'r that bless'd thee on thy way
To overthrow Triarius; curs'd the Stars
That glitter'd round thy Head, when by thy Arm
So many Tribunes and Centurions fell,
As made Rome groan, and broke Lucullus heart.

Pelop.
Hear me, my Lord.—

Phar.
This Morning, on a Mountain
Above the Clouds, his Triumph was perform'd
And I assisted at the Sacrifice.
Why gave I not this Body to the Flames,
To be devour'd among the tortur'd Slaves,
Rather than liv'd to see his Conquest Crown'd?
I saw it; O, Pelopidas, these Eyes
Saw Mithridates, with a Torch, give Fire
To the vast Pile, which like a Pyramid
Stood high upon the Hill, as that on Earth.

Pelop.
Will you but give me leave?

Phar.
I saw the blaze
Of his immortal Honour, heard the shout
Of all the Court, which did torment the Air
To that degree, that Birds fell round us dead;
And that thin Region, where we scarce cou'd live
When first we did ascend, became so fat
With the rich Steam of Blood and boyling Gold
And flowing Gums, that we were forc'd remove:
Nay, I believe, the glutted Gods themselves
Were almost choak'd, with the prodigious Odors.

Pelop.
Yet have you done?

Phar.
To the green Neptune then,
Because at Sea old Archelaus had
Been Conqueror with my Brother, in their Names
An off'ring was decreed; a Chariot all
With Emeralds set, and fill'd with Coral Tridents,
Was with a hundred Horses, wild as Wind,
From off the top of that most dismal place
Plung'd to the bottom of the slimy Deep.

Pelop.
Let me intreat you call your Reason home,
And listen to your faithful Servant's Counsel:
You cannot hate your Brother more to Death,
Than I his Friend, the General Archelaus.
'Has got the start of me in the King's favour;
And tho, without being vain, I think my self
The better Souldier, he by Polities
Has push'd me from the Dignities I bore:
The Lion's outed by the Fox.—

Phar.
But with full cry
Let us unkennel him; rather rebel,
Than bear it thus: 'tis mine, 'tis thy concern:
Nor let the Name of King, or Father, awe us.
A Mistress, and a Throne! most specious Tides.
The God of Battel rages in my Breast;
And as at Delphos, when the glorious Fury
Kindles the Blood of the Prophetick Maid,
The bounded Deity does shoot her out,
Draws every Nerve thin as a Spider's Thred,
And beats the skin out like expanded Gold:
So, with the meditation of the Work
Which my Soul bears, I swell almost to bursting.

Pelop.
In all the many changes of my Life
I have not known one equal yet to yours;
At other times so moderate, so true
A Soveraign o're your self, you seem'd to want
Those Passions for your Slaves who Lord it now.

Phar.
I'me hush'd if thou hast ought of comfort, speak.

Pelop.
This Night your Father has decreed to Marry
The Daughter of Palemon.

Phar.
What can hinder?

Pelop.
Nothing; yet mark: my Brother Tryphon is
High-Priest o'th' Sun, whom all the rest obey:
Him have I wrought, that when the Nuptial Rites
Begin, some strange presages shall fall out,
Disorders unexpected, to foreshow
The Gods are much offended at the Marriage.
How this may work with one of mighty Faith
In holy Fables, one of various humor,
Whom every day new Beauties set on Fire,
Be you the Judge.

Phar.
Methinks it has a Face;
But yet there's wanting what I cou'd have wish'd:
Had it been Janus-like, back'd with another:
When Mithridates frighted from his Queen,
Warn'd by false Oracles, shou'd have retir'd
Perplex'd, yet strugling with the pangs of Love;
Then to have laid a Beauty to his longing,
Some fair unknown, proud of her gaudy Bloom,
T' have quench'd his thirsty wishes, that had been
A Masterpiece! But let him Marry her,
Sure Death shall wait upon his laughing Hymen;
And when the God has given her to his Arms,
Fate with unerring force shall part 'em ever.

Pelop.
Yet raging? 'Tis as you have said, and more!
More than excelling Mischief cou'd invent,
That is not best. We have already rais'd him;
Andravar, my Lieutenant General,
Scorn'd by your Brother, whom he therefore hates,
First form'd the Plot: Old Archelaus's Daughter,
The fair Semandra, Mistress to Ziphares,
Is destin'd to be made your Father's Prey.

Phar.
Excellent Engine! now thou work'st indeed;
Thou hast hit the Vein, the Life-blood of his Heart:
I cannot see ought in the extent of Art,
Or Nature, that can mend it. O Ziphares,
Still Conquer; rise with Triumphs, high as Heav'n,
So such a Bolt as this be sure to wait thee.
Enter Andravar.
But see the brave Lieutenant! come to my Arms,
And tell me, shall Semandra be the King's?

Andr.
I think, my Lord, that I may safely swear it.

Phar.
Thy bluntness merits praise, and says, thou'rt fit
To serve my best revenge, Love, or Ambition.

Andr.
Great Mithridates, whom I well have study'd,
Tho he has weather'd forty Winter Fields,
Yet rises in his vigor, ventures more,
Nor feels decay of strength; none Learn'd as he
In Nature's Garden; whence to his Constitution
Most excellent, he adds such helps by Art,
That by his looks he might be thought Immortal.
The World, too, knows he is as Amorous now
As when the first Sighs heav'd his youthful Brest,
And his first Tears bedew'd the Shrines of Love.

Phar.
The Consequence?

Andr.
He often has been pleas'd
To make me honour'd with his private thoughts;
Whereon my General and I agreed,
Knowing your love to Monima,
And hatred to your Brother, with one blow
To drive the business that shou'd Crown your wishes.
Therefore I daily fill'd your Father's Ears
With praises of Semandra, rais'd his wonder,
Describ'd her dress, and each particular grace;
Her Eyes, her Hands, her Lips, with all their beauties;
And have so fir'd him, that there only wants
A view to perfect all; and that will be
To Night.

Phar.
How know'st thou that?

Andr.
I learnt it all
From a She-slave that waits upon Semandra,
Who told me that Ziphares, with consent
Of Archelaus, wou'd beg her of the King,
When he this Night shou'd Monima Espouse.
[Soft Musick.
Nor doubt, but when he once has seen Semandra,
The Charms of his new Queen will vanish. Hark,
The sacred Musick sounds!—The King and Queen are coming.
Enter Archilaus, Ziphares, Semandra.
See, your Brother, Semandra and her Father.

Phar.
O my lab'ring Brest! how hopes and fears
Toss my wrack'd Heart, like a poor Bark, about!
But soon the Calm will come, or I must perish in the Tempest.

Exeunt Phar. Pelop. and Andr.
Ziph.
By Heav'n, my Love, thou dost distract my Soul;
There's not a Tear that falls from those dear Eyes
But makes my Heart weep Blood—O my Father!
All is not well: I found her in the Morning,
Not like a Bride, with all her Maids about her,
Half-smiling, now half-serious with her thoughts,
Of what must come; nor warm, nor bright, nor blushing;
But, Oh the Gods! I found her on the Floor,
In all the storm of grief, yet beautiful,
Sighing such breath of sorrow, that her Lips
Which late appear'd like buds, were now o'reblown,
Pouring forth tears at such a slavish rate,
That, were the World on Fire, they might have drown'd
The wrath of Heav'n, and quench'd the mighty ruine.

Arch.
Nothing, my Lord—'tis all but Virgin's fear:
Marriage to Maids is like a War to Men,
The Battel causes fear; but the sweet hopes
Of winning at the last still draws 'em on.

Sem.
Alas, my Lord!

[Weeping.
Ziph.
What, but alas? no more? when by the Hand
I led her to the Temple, thus she sigh'd,
And hung upon me. If thou truly lov'st me,
If I may credit my Semandra's tears,
Think 'em not drops of Chance like other Womens,
The Weather of their Souls, The Christal bubbles
Which they can make at will; Oh satisfie
The longings of my braest, and tell thy sorrows.

Sem.
That I do love you, Oh all you Host of Heav'n,
Be Witness? that you are dear to me,
Dearer than Day to one whom sight must leave,
Dearer than Life to one that fears to dye;
O thou bright Pow'r be Judge whom we adore,
Be Witness of my Truth, be Witness of my Love!
But yet I fear—

Ziph.
That fear, give me that fear, Semandra;
Produce it in the ugliest form it has,
If ought that is deform'd can come from thee.

Sem.
I shall, my Lord; since you are pleas'd to hear me,
Uunfold my doubts, the cause of all my Tears.
First then, I must complain of my hard Stars,
That did not dart kind Lustre on my Birth;
For tho at present, while your young Blood boyls,
Your Reason cannot get the Rein of Passion,
Yet it will come, when long possession cloyes you,
Then you will think what Queens you might have had,
With Kingdoms for their Dower; perhaps you may
Prove so unkind, to tell me of it too;
Or, if you shou'd not, yet your Eyes wou'd speak—
[Weeping.
Enough to break the heart of poor Semandra.

Ziph.
Why dost thou stab me with the tenderness
Of thy false fears, and melt me into mourning?
'Tis most unseasonable on our Wedding-day
To be seen thus: I know thou canst not doubt me.
No, thou most lovely of the fairer kind,
Think not a Crown can ever change my Virtue.
Ah, who wou'd leave the warmth of this lov'd Bosome
For the cold cares which black Ambition brings?

Sem.
Spight of ill-boding Dreams, unlucky Omens,
You must, you shall, you ought to be believ'd.
And, if I weep again, it is for joy
That I this Night shall be your happy Bride.

Ziph.
Oh Mithridates, mighty as thou art,
Before whose Throne Princes stand dumb as Death,
With folded Arms, and their Eyes fix'd to Earth;
Dishonour brand me, if I wou'd not chuse
A private Life with her whom my Soul loves,
Rather than live like thee, with all thy Titles,
The King of Kings, without her.

Arch.
Pray, my Lord,
Defer till Mid-night these strong Extasies,
Fate yet may put a bar betwixt our hopes,
And then the loss wilt be more hardly born.

The Scene draws, discovering the inner part of the Temple. Mithridates holding Monima by the Hand; his Queens, Concubines, Sons and Daughters attending. Three Roman Captains, L. Cassius, Q. Oppius, and Manius Aquilius bound in Gold Chains, with many other Slaves standing at distance.
Mith.
Not yet, O Rome, great Tyrant of the World,
Hast thou subdu'd the Asian Emperor.
In thy despight I hold my glory still,
Still tread upon the Necks of conquer'd Kings,
Still make thy Consuls tremble at my Name;
And, in one mightiest Word to sum up all,
A Word which, like a Charm, might raise the Ghosts
Of Pyrrhus, and the experienc'd Hannibal
To envy, and be dazled at my deeds;
A Word, a Name, that comprehends all Honors,
All Titles, Riches, Power, all Majesty,
In spight of Rome, I'm Mithridates still.

Aquil.
The Nations must confess, that Alexander
Cou'd not more dreadful to the East appear,
Than you: ev'n Rome wou'd buy her peace with joy,
Cou'd you at reasonable rates afford
Your Royal Friendship, tho by your command,
Most dreadful to Italian Memory,
In one dark Day, damn'd in the Book of Fate,
A hundred thousand murder'd Romans fell.

Mith.
Darest thou, fomenter of these Wars, to talk?
Thou, purple Source of all these bloody streams,
Which have for more than thirty years o'reflow'd
The Asian Banks, and dy'd Euphrates red?
Darest thou, Commissioner in chief, to put
The Earth in Arms, and set the World on flame,
Once think of Peace? Now, by the Fire-rob'd God,
Thou shalt have punishment that fits thy Crimes.

Aquil.
The bravest must submit when Fortune frowns.

Mith.
Desire of Wealth, the Lust of shining Dirt,
And Palace Plunder, caus'd thee with Arm'd Legions
T' invade a King, whose Father was Rome's Friend.
But, by the asserted Justice of my Cause,
The help of Heav'n, and of my own Right-hand,
I conquer'd thee, and thou art now my Slave.
Guards, strait convey him to the Market-place,
Take off his wealthy Chains, and melt 'em down;
Then, for a terrible Example to
All sordid Wretches, Souls made up of Avarice,
Pour down his Throat the rich dissolved Mass,
And gorge his Entrails with the burning Gold.

Mon.
Not, my dear Lord, upon your Nuptial Day.

Mith.
On any Day, my Queen, to do a Justice
Which all the Gods, and all good Men must like.
For Lucius Cassius, and for Quintus Oppius,
A milder Destiny's in store. Away with him.
And now proceed we to the sacred Rites.

Aquil.
Yet, e're you join, hear me, proud Emperour,
Hear what the Fates have put into my brest:
I see my Death, by Roman Arms, reveng'd;
And what Lucullus had so well begun,
Pompey shall end; Pompey, thy glory's ruine.
This hour that gives me Death, shall be the last
Of all thy quiet: swift domestick jars
Shall overtake thee; thou shalt add more blood
To that already shed from thy own Bowels:
And when at last subdu'd in all thy Wars,
Spoil'd of thy Queens, thy Sons and Daughters slain,
Thou seek'st some corner of thy conquer'd Empire
To hide thy abandon'd Head in; then the load
Of all thy woes shall come, one whom thou least
Shalt fear, long nourish'd in thy impious breast,
Shall stab thee to the heart, and end thy days.
That this, all this, and more may light upon thee,
I pray the Gods; and so the Furies seize thee.

Mith.
Away, to Death with the Prophetick Fool.
[Ex. Guards with Aquilius.
Tryphon, begin, and let the Altar smoak
With such rich Victims, to the well-pleas'd Gods,
That they may smile from Heav'n, and give us joy.

Here follows the Entertainment: after which, the King and Queen return from the Altar to sit in state. An Image of Victory descends with two Crowns in her hands; but on a sudden the Engines break, and cast the Image forward on the Stage with such violence that they dash in pieces. Mithridates starting up.
Mith.
Ha! whence? how fell this out? Now, by my Arms,
Our Nuptials are not pleasing to the Gods;
'Tis for some fault of mine, O Monima,
That Heav'n denies thy beauties to my bosome:
Thus, when we did approach the hallow'd Vault,
A Prophesying Priest, with start-up Hair,
With rolling Eyes, and Nostrils wide as Mouths,
Stopt us i'th way, and said we were no Match.
As well the noblest Salvage of the Field
Might tamely couple with a fearful Ewe,
Tygers ingender with the timorous Deer,
Wild muddy Bores defile the cleanly Ermin,
Or Vultures sort with Doves, as I with thee.
'Tis a cross thought, and much disturbs me here.

Mon.
Command me dye, e're give your Majesty
Cause of the least disturbance, O, my Lord!
Think you that I wou'd lye within your Arms
To hear you sigh, and give me Tears for Love?
Or think you, 'tis to Empire I aspire?
Rather dismiss me from your Breast, the Haven
Where I had hoarded all my happiness,
And cast me out to a wide Sea of weeping.

Mith.
How e're the Pow'rs above shall deal with me,
Racking my heart with what they have set down,
Thou art our Queen.

Mon.
O, 'tis an empty Name,
A senseless sound, except I am your Love:
I find, I find that I am lost for ever.
I have but slept, charm'd with a golden Dream,
And now am wak'd to beggery again.
Why did you take me from my Father's Wing?
Who, tho a petty Prince, was yet a World
Of warmth to me; why did you tempt me forth
With burning Love, and the bright Comet Power?

Mith.
Fright not thy tender heart with false suspicions;
I will be ever thine: But give me leave
A little to digest with serious thoughts,
The anger of the Heav'ns—Andravar.

Andr.
My Lord?

Phar.
They whisper, General.

[To Pelop.
Ziph.
coming forward.
Stars, by your leave;
Ill Omens may the guilty tremble at,
Make every accident a Prodigy,
And Monsters frame where Nature never err'd;
May the sear'd Conscience start at falling Meteors,
And call the schreme of every hooting Owl,
Or croaking Raven, Fate's most dreadful Voice:
For me, I laugh at 'em; shou'd now the Heav'n
Flame with a thousand Fires, ne're seen before,
And Thunder beat the Winds from every corner,
Not for the Calm of all the Universe
Wou'd I put off my Joys a moment longer.
Stand back, my Love; and, when I call, come forth:
A minute makes us blest, or wretched ever.

[Comes to the middle of the Stage, and kneels.
Mith.
Is there in all the space of our wide Empire
Ought of that most inestimable value
To make Ziphares kneel?

Ziph.
There is, my Lord,
Thus to adore you.

Mith.
O, Celestial Powers!
Mark me your Subject out for all misfortunes,
The Curses of the Roman Manius fall
Heavy upon me; Fortune's giddy Wheel,
Which we have fix'd with our Majestick weight,
Turn round with me, when I deny him ought
That he can ask with Honour: Rise, my Son.

Ziph.
rising.
Since on the great Request which I shall make
The peace or trouble of my Life depends,
The torment or the pleasure of my Soul,
Eternal griefs, or everlasting joys,
I wou'd recall to your remembrance, Sir,
The toils and hardships which my early Valour
Has undergone, the many Fields I'have fought,
And Conquer'd too; and as of old the Romans
Who sought the Consulship, made bare their breasts,
Lac'd with long Scars, and studded o're with Thrusts,
The Noble Wardrobe of the Scarlet War;
I wou'd, with bolder mention of my deeds,
Display my Wounds to move your Royal Favour,
And offer, to the blood which I have shed,
All my heart holds for sealing of your promise.

Mith.
O, had'st thou fought so poorly as thou speak'st
Thy Actions, all the Laurels which lye green
Upon thee, strait wou'd wither, and be dust.
To mention but thy last, thy last of Wars,
Which ev'n the breath of Majesty makes vile,
So much below thy Valour is all Language—

Ziph.
The glory of that Battel is your own.

Mith.
To thee we owe the day, our life and Empire;
When six Centurions bore me from my Saddle,
And laid me groveling, for the violent Horse
To tread my Soul out; how did my brave Ziphares
Break through their walls of Steel, leap o're the Ramparts
Of the dead bodies that had fenc'd me in,
On his own Courser mounting me to life.
Pious even in the mouth of Slaughter, while
On foot himself, he with his Battel-axe
Bore down the Legions, drove whole Troops before him,
And brought their Eagles drooping from the Field!
Demand, I say, ask me most Royally,
I will be lavish to thy vast Ambition,
And Crown thy wishes like a giving God.

Ziph.
In thankfulness I bend me to the Earth,
Once more fall prostrate to your Majesty,
And pray the Gods to give you length of days.
Come forth, come forth, my Fairest; break, my Day;
Appear, and Charm, dazle the whole Assembly.

Semandra comes forward.
Mith.
A wonder! Ha!

Ziph.
She is, my Lord, the Boast,
The lovely Chance-work, Master-piece of Nature,
Who blush'd to see what her own hands had made;
As if, mistaking Moulds, she unawares
Had cast Semandra in a Form Divine.

Sem.
These praises, breath'd from any Lips but yours,
Lord of my life, and Idol of my love,
Wou'd make me sink with shame, or scorn the Flatterer;
But as they come from you, from that lov'd Mouth,
The tender Off'rings of your fond Desires,
I take 'em all, and die upon the sound:
To the driven Air my flying Soul is fasten'd;
Each word, each sillable you spoke is mine;
Yes, I am fair, a Queen, a Goddess, any thing;
That my dear Lord is pleas'd to have me be.

Mith.
She talks—

Ziph.
And with so good a Grace,
That nothing but her Wit can Charm beyond it,
Late in the Camp I languish'd with a Fever,
And sure had dy'd, but for this fair Physician;
Who in the midst of all my fiery pains,
When Art was at a loss, and I lay gasping,
Wou'd quite beguile my sufferings with her Songs,
Her welcom Pity, and her soft Endearments:
Now, laying her chaste Cheek, cold with her Tears,
To mine, she wou'd abate the raging fire;
Now, with warm sighs kindle my fading spirits,
And when I fainted with a Kiss recal me.

Mith.
By Heav'n, she weeps, and I cou'd drink the Dew.

Phar.
He takes the poyson, fast as I cou'd wish.

Pelop.
And Prince Ziphares forces her upon him.

Arch.
Hold, you have gone too far; speak to the purpose:

Ziph.
Ambition therefore was not my Request;
In Colchis or in Bosphorus to Reign:
Leave to my Brothers all your Empire; and
To me, this only Beauty for Reward.

Mith.
Reward! Wert thou on Mithridates Throne,
Possess'd of all his Kingdoms, were thine eye
Like his who guides the day, and thou cou'dst call
In all thy Journeys what thou saw'st thy own;
Her eyes wou'd match thy lustre: all thy glories
Wou'd be but shadows, when this Face appear'd.

Ziph.
They wou'd, my Lord.

Mith.
They wou'd, my Lord! Yet more;
By all my Royalties, a God might wed her,
And be a gainer by the beauteous Bride.

Ziph.
Such as she is—

Mith.
Not Heav'n it self can mend her.
Had I as many Tongues as I have Languages,
Skill'd in all Speeches of the babling World,
And cou'd at once speak to as many Nations,
With such a grace as might make Athens blush.
By Mercury, and by the Father of
The Muses, I shou'd never speak Semandra.

Mon.
O, he is gone! his vow'd fidelity
Is gaz'd away!

Mith.
Tell me her Birth, Ziphares:
She must be more than Royal.

Ziph.
Fate, thy worst:
Let me be dumb for ever from this moment.

Arch.
In me your Majesty may please to read
Her Father: what I want in Dignity,
Be pleas'd to fill up with my Services.

Mith.
Thy Daughter!

Arch.
Yes, my gracious Lord, my Daughter.

Mith.
O pity that so fair a Star shou'd be
The Child of Night; that such a stream of Crystal
Shou'd have her Spring so muddy!
Thou dy'st, thou saucy old ambitious Dotard,
Who dar'st to match thy Lees of blood with ours,
And daub the Throne of the Immortal Cyrus.

Ziph.
Hold, hold, most awful, give Ziphares death,
Impale me, burn me, bury me alive,
But do not wrong this innocent old man;
These hairs, which were made Silver in your service,
O the good Gods! whom fear cou'd never shake,
Your bitter words have caus'd to tremble: see,
With the disgrace, he weeps; his Springs of life
Which had been dry for fifty years, this last
Affront has water'd:
Oh my poor Father!

Mith.
Ha! that Name again,
Thou art no more my Son. For thee, Semandra,
Thou shalt attend our Queen; to Court, my Fair,
Where I must learn you to forget Ziphares,
And match you equal to your birth.

Sem.
My Lord—Ziphares—Father.

Mith.
Look not back.
Conduct the Queen, Pharnaces. O, Semandra!
'Tis to your Tears I sacrifice my Justice;
To them, your Fathers life I'll not deny,
Who, for Ambition, did deserve to die.

Exeunt all but Ziphares and Archelaus.
Arch.
Dotard! and saucy! nay, the Lees of blood!
Now, by the Gods, 'tis sprightly as his own:
O, 'tis too much to bear. Forgive me, Prince;
It breaks the very neck of Loyalty:
Perhaps, he Whores my Daughter too. But first,
Rather than see him wear my glories Spoils,
Thou, my good Sword, that has so oft been drawn,
And dy'd thy self in Roman bowels, to
The very Guard, for this ungrateful King,
Be faithful to me, as thou still hast been,
And pierce the heart of thy dishonour'd Master.

Ziph.
Oh, Archelaus! Oh, my kinder Father!
If you are stir'd thus at an angry word,
What shou'd I be; I who am lost indeed,
I who am stunn'd, I who sustain'd the stroke
Of all the anger of the Fates at once?
Semandra, O my Love!

Arch.
Restrain your grief,
As I my rage, and let us think apace.
Tho for my Daughters Virtue I wou'd stake
My Immortal part, my Fame so dearly bought.
Yet force, which he may use, will have its way:
Consider that.

Ziph.
Consider! how shou'd I
Consider, who grow mad with crouding thoughts;
Where every one endeav'ring to be foremost
Stops up the passage, and will choak my Reason?

Arch.
Once more speak humbly to him,
Perhaps, 'tis but a sudden short-liv'd fit,
A gust of Passion that may soon blow over:
But if you find it rooted in his heart,
Eat your way through him, to your happiness;
Or perish, like your Brother Mithridates.

Ziph.
By Heav'n, I think it greatest happiness
Never to have been born; and next to that,
To die: for who that wears his flesh can bear
The curse of Accidents, a Change like mine?
I who, some moments past, wou'd not have chang'd
Condition, with the blessed Gods themselves;
Now, in all probability, am lost,
And stand upon the very brink of ruine.

Arch.
Your Destiny's uncertain; Fate, as yet,
Holds the Scale doubtful: let us haste to Court,
Where we shall learn which way the Ballance falls.

Ziph.
Not half an hour ago, methought secure
I hug'd my self, and almost cou'd have wept
In meer compassion to th' hard-fated World,
Thinking how much my state was happier.

Arch.
Yet all the while you did not spy the danger
Which crept invisible, and undermin'd you.

Ziph.
Alas, I did not; without fear I stood:
Like one who, on the Beach, discries from far
A labouring Bark, with which the Billows war;
Pities its state, wishing the Tempest gon,
But views not the near Sea come rolling on:
So did with me my unseen Fortune play,
Till the Waves came, and wash'd me quite away.

[Exeunt.