 | Alcibiades |  |
SCENE:
The Tent of a Pavilion Royal; the King and Queen of Sparta Alcibiades, Tissaphernes, Patroclus, Guards, Ladys, &c.
K.
Now must proud Athens lay her Tryumphs down,
And pay her Glorys Tribute to my Crown;
No more shall stupid Greece her Fetters wear,
Nor make disadvantageous peace for fear;
But she her self must in subjectiom come,
And humbly at my feet expect her doom.
Tiss.
Yes Sir; all Glorys must when Yours break forth,
Go out, and lose their Beauty, and their Worth;
And like false Angels Vanish and be gone,
Dreading those shapes they durst before put on.
Pat.
Athens, the Worlds great Mistress will not be
Courted with low and vulgar Gallantry.
Her Glory aymes at higher Characters,
Then heavy Gown-men clad in formal Furrs:
Who wins her deeds 'bove common Fate must do,
And so she's only Mistress fit for You.
K.
Yes, and I only will enjoy her too.
But noble generous Youth, thou has alone
Things Worthy the Athenian honour done:
To Alcibiades.
Thou like a tow'ring Eagle soard'st above
That lower Orb in which they faintly move;
A flight too high for their dull souls to use,
Which prompted 'em that honour to abuse:
Thinking their baseness they might palliate,
With the dark Cloud of Policy and State.
But let them that black mistery pursue,
By worth and honour Empires greatest grow;
Which when abus'd, their glory does suppress,
As revers'd prospects make the object less.
Alcib.
Yours Sir, like Heav'ns great soul is General;
Dispensing its kind influence on all.
This makes success and Victory repair,
To move with you as in their proper Sphear;
As fragrant dews leave the corrupter earth,
Exhal'd by th'Sun from whom they had their Birth.
K.
The truth of that we by your Lawrels know,
Conquest your Arms, Triumph still waits your brow;
By your success th'Athenian greatness rose,
Your courage scatter'd their insulting Foes;
And from that height to which by you th'are grown,
'Tis your success alone must throw 'em down.
Thus have we made you Gen'ral of our Force;
And all those honours you were rob'd off there,
We'll make our study to redouble here.
Tiss.
Aside.
And I, (if that my Malice tell me true,)
As diligently shall his Plagues pursue.
Alcib.
Of all my Courage or my Sword shall do,
I the success must to your influence owe:
The honour and the justice of your cause,
So glorious are, Fate must from them take Laws:
So You o're Athens this advantage have,
You Fortune rule, to whom she's but a Slave.
K.
Enjoy my Tissaphernes now thy ease,
And plant fresh Lawrels in the shades of Peace.
The glorys thou hast won, so num'rous are,
They seem as many as thy age can bear.
But if thy spacious soul thou canst confine,
Within this narrow Mansion of mine:
Be this the utmost of thy wishes bound,
Possess his grateful heart, whose head th'ast Crown'd.
Tiss.
Heav'n knows my Age does feel no sharper sting,
Then to want pow'r to serve so good a King.
But since time tells me that my glass is run,
Setting me backward where I first begun;
Since no way else they can their duty show,
I'le only employ my hands to Heav'n for you:
And what my Sword can't, may devotion do.
K.
How truly he a glorious Monarch is
That's Crown'd with blessings so sublime as these!
How can I but in all things happy be,
Propt by such Courage and such Piety?
To me with Gods similitude is giv'n:
'Tis pow'r and vertue that supports their Heav'n.
Our Royal Standard to the City bear,
T'Alarm it to Obedience, or to War;
To Morrow must decide th'Athenian Fate,
This day to joy and ease we'l Consecrate.
Exeunt Om. Præt. Tiss.
Tiss.
Ungrateful King! thy shallow aymes pursue,
But my brisk Up-start Fav'rite, have at you.
Was it for this my active Youth I spent
In War? and knew no dwelling but a Tent!
Have I for this through Invious Mountains pass't?
Demolish't Cities, and lay'd Kingdoms wast?
Still in his Cause unwearied courage shown?
And almost hid his head in Crowns I won!
Upon my Breast receiv'd so many Scarrs,
They seem a War describ'd in Characters!
And must the harvest of my toyle and blood,
Upon a fawning Rebel be bestow'd?
Who having false to his own Country been,
Comes here to play his Treasons o're agen?
Must he at last tumble my Trophies down,
And Revel in the Glorys I have won?
Whilst from my Honours, they me disengage
With a dull Complement to feeble Age.
What ayles this hardy hand, that yet it shou'd
Tremble at death, or start at reeking blood?
Me-thinks this Dagger I as firmly hold,
[Draws a Dagger.
And with a strength as resolute and bold,
As he who kindly would its point impart,
A present to an envy'd Fav'rites heart;
And I fond Youth will try to work thy fall,
Though with my own I Crown thy Funeral.
Envy and Malice from your Mansions flie,
Resign your horrour and your Snakes to me;
For I'le act mischiefs yet to you unknown;
Nay, you shall all be Saints when I come down.
The Tent of a Pavilion Royal; the King and Queen of Sparta Alcibiades, Tissaphernes, Patroclus, Guards, Ladys, &c.
7
Now must proud Athens lay her Tryumphs down,
And pay her Glorys Tribute to my Crown;
No more shall stupid Greece her Fetters wear,
Nor make disadvantageous peace for fear;
But she her self must in subjectiom come,
And humbly at my feet expect her doom.
Tiss.
Yes Sir; all Glorys must when Yours break forth,
Go out, and lose their Beauty, and their Worth;
And like false Angels Vanish and be gone,
Dreading those shapes they durst before put on.
Pat.
Athens, the Worlds great Mistress will not be
Courted with low and vulgar Gallantry.
Her Glory aymes at higher Characters,
Then heavy Gown-men clad in formal Furrs:
Who wins her deeds 'bove common Fate must do,
And so she's only Mistress fit for You.
K.
Yes, and I only will enjoy her too.
But noble generous Youth, thou has alone
Things Worthy the Athenian honour done:
To Alcibiades.
Thou like a tow'ring Eagle soard'st above
That lower Orb in which they faintly move;
A flight too high for their dull souls to use,
Which prompted 'em that honour to abuse:
Thinking their baseness they might palliate,
With the dark Cloud of Policy and State.
But let them that black mistery pursue,
By worth and honour Empires greatest grow;
Which when abus'd, their glory does suppress,
As revers'd prospects make the object less.
Alcib.
Yours Sir, like Heav'ns great soul is General;
Dispensing its kind influence on all.
This makes success and Victory repair,
To move with you as in their proper Sphear;
As fragrant dews leave the corrupter earth,
Exhal'd by th'Sun from whom they had their Birth.
8
The truth of that we by your Lawrels know,
Conquest your Arms, Triumph still waits your brow;
By your success th'Athenian greatness rose,
Your courage scatter'd their insulting Foes;
And from that height to which by you th'are grown,
'Tis your success alone must throw 'em down.
Thus have we made you Gen'ral of our Force;
And all those honours you were rob'd off there,
We'll make our study to redouble here.
Tiss.
Aside.
And I, (if that my Malice tell me true,)
As diligently shall his Plagues pursue.
Alcib.
Of all my Courage or my Sword shall do,
I the success must to your influence owe:
The honour and the justice of your cause,
So glorious are, Fate must from them take Laws:
So You o're Athens this advantage have,
You Fortune rule, to whom she's but a Slave.
K.
Enjoy my Tissaphernes now thy ease,
And plant fresh Lawrels in the shades of Peace.
The glorys thou hast won, so num'rous are,
They seem as many as thy age can bear.
But if thy spacious soul thou canst confine,
Within this narrow Mansion of mine:
Be this the utmost of thy wishes bound,
Possess his grateful heart, whose head th'ast Crown'd.
Tiss.
Heav'n knows my Age does feel no sharper sting,
Then to want pow'r to serve so good a King.
But since time tells me that my glass is run,
Setting me backward where I first begun;
Since no way else they can their duty show,
I'le only employ my hands to Heav'n for you:
And what my Sword can't, may devotion do.
K.
How truly he a glorious Monarch is
That's Crown'd with blessings so sublime as these!
How can I but in all things happy be,
Propt by such Courage and such Piety?
9
'Tis pow'r and vertue that supports their Heav'n.
Our Royal Standard to the City bear,
T'Alarm it to Obedience, or to War;
To Morrow must decide th'Athenian Fate,
This day to joy and ease we'l Consecrate.
Exeunt Om. Præt. Tiss.
Tiss.
Ungrateful King! thy shallow aymes pursue,
But my brisk Up-start Fav'rite, have at you.
Was it for this my active Youth I spent
In War? and knew no dwelling but a Tent!
Have I for this through Invious Mountains pass't?
Demolish't Cities, and lay'd Kingdoms wast?
Still in his Cause unwearied courage shown?
And almost hid his head in Crowns I won!
Upon my Breast receiv'd so many Scarrs,
They seem a War describ'd in Characters!
And must the harvest of my toyle and blood,
Upon a fawning Rebel be bestow'd?
Who having false to his own Country been,
Comes here to play his Treasons o're agen?
Must he at last tumble my Trophies down,
And Revel in the Glorys I have won?
Whilst from my Honours, they me disengage
With a dull Complement to feeble Age.
What ayles this hardy hand, that yet it shou'd
Tremble at death, or start at reeking blood?
Me-thinks this Dagger I as firmly hold,
[Draws a Dagger.
And with a strength as resolute and bold,
As he who kindly would its point impart,
A present to an envy'd Fav'rites heart;
And I fond Youth will try to work thy fall,
Though with my own I Crown thy Funeral.
Envy and Malice from your Mansions flie,
Resign your horrour and your Snakes to me;
For I'le act mischiefs yet to you unknown;
Nay, you shall all be Saints when I come down.
| Alcibiades | |