 | The Rival Kings : or The Loves of Oroondates and Statira |  |
1
Actus Primus
Scæna Prima.
Enter as newly arriv'd Lysimachus, Cassander, Officers, and attendance, in State.Lys.
From Ganges, and beyond Nyle's secret Bed,
Strange conquer'd Nations have Euphrates spread,
By Heavens eternal Power, ordain'd to meet
In the Worlds center, and it's Royal Seat.
From other Parts whilest succours bend their course,
You bring from Greece, the Foot to re-inforce,
And I from Thrace, five thousand Winged Horse.
So the great Sea maintains it's swelling Pride
By lesser streams, that thither daily glide;
All things contribute to this mighty King,
To Alexander flowing, leave their Spring,
And Aids from the remotest Places bring.
Cas.
We but appear like Day break after Night,
Where e're He comes, he fills the Skye with light.
So the base Moon does oft Eclipse the Sun,
And shade that Beauty, whence her light begun.
He sends us forth, like Nylus in a Floud,
To drown the World, and Court him with the good.
Lys.
Fill'd with success, he is luxurious grown,
And gluts with Blood, his cruel wanton Throne.
The News you tell me of Phylotas Death,
If true, who after him can hope for breath?
Is't possible! Repeat it yet again—
Ye Gods! The Son of bold Parmenio slain!
Cas.
This News, the Great Parmenio as a Friend,
T'Antipater my Father did commend:
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So that for that he ne're believ'd he Dy'd.
Lys.
Of Dymnus fond conspiracy, I've heard,
But never thought Phylotas so deserv'd.
Cas.
Had that been sought, Phylotas might have stood,
Till his known Innocence had sav'd his Blood;
But what bold Creature in the Forrest dare
With the stout Lyon in his Hunting share?
His Generals, Friends, and all Obnoxious stand,
To be pick'd out for Death at his Command;
But for my Sufferings, more than Death I grieve;
In my lost Fame, he buried me alive:
You and the World did witness my disgrace,
When that base blow he struck me on the Face,
I wish that I had Dy'd in Clytus place;
I Travel with the Weight—
Lys.
Cassander hold—
You were too blame, and Clytus was too bold.
Cas.
Have done Lysimachus, there is a smother'd shame,
When thus fomented breaks into a flame;
I had a Thunder-Bolt as well withstood,
And cherish'd lightning in my vital blood.
Enter to them Bagistanes.
Bag.
Fresh News o'retake the former on the way,
And all confirm the King will come to day.
Shrill joyful Clamours, which the Clouds involve,
Peirce through the Air, and o're our Heads dissolve,
And near Euphrates, all their Trumpets sound,
Slide down the stream, and from our Walls rebound.
Lys.
The News is great, and welcome that we hear.
Bag.
But o're our Sun does a thick Cloud appear,
That makes his glorious body shine less clear.
As oft in multitudes of Shouts ascend
A loud and goodly noise, till at the end,
Some single voice behind, does stagging lye,
And Robs the whole, of it's full harmony.—
Lys.
I interrupt you—Is the King in health—?
Bag.
He is, but he ha's lost his greatest wealth,
A treasure, that the Gods did envy him.
Lys.
If that be all, he will be rich again.
Bag.
Ah, but this loss, he never will redeem.—
The Gen'ral of the World, Parmenio's slain.
Lys.
Parmenio dead!—
Cas.
What slain! By what bold man?
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By that bold Man, that only dares, and can.
Lys.
Does Alexander thus transplant, to save
His fading Lawrels on Parmenio's Grave?
We'rt thou the Son of Philip, not of Jove,
Thou hadst not thrown away this Token of his Love,
Nor hadst thy self of so much Power bereft,
With thy right Arm to have cut off thy left.
Cas.
A man so great, that in his Fathers time,
Winning too many Battels was his Crime.
Bag.
His trusty slave, who by this Act is freed,
Is hither come, that saw Parmenio bleed,
In his own Garden, where he us'd to breath
Pure Air for Life, he trod the paths of Death.
Four of the Guard the Gen'ral thus salute,
Hail mighty Captain, and of most repute;
The Monarch of the World, these Letters sends
To great Parmenio, his best of Friends.
The good Old man, so much o'rejoy'd to see
His Masters Love, receiv'd e'm on his Knee.
Seal'd with his Blood, which he unkowing Tore,
Giving the Murderers sign to let out more:
Those but suppli'd their Masters will in part,
The rest they did ingrave upon his Heart,
Which with a dagger from his breast they drein'd,
And all with Blood the Treacherous paper stain'd.
The Ink, the colour of that black design,
Blush'd that it did in such a Treason joyn:
Thus the bold Lyon taken by surprize,
Was like a Lamb offer'd to sacrifice.
Cas.
Why do ye Gods of Mans misfortunes boast?
And make us Heroes at our own lives cost.
Th'extreamest height in which we hope to live
Is but of Honours breath an empty Sound,
Or like a Star, one sudden shoot we give,
Then fall an empty Vapour on the Ground.
Ingrateful Alexander, has now repaid
Those many Fights, ne're won but by his Aid.
Lys.
Forbear Cassander, you o're reach your Sence,
Whom the Gods own, pay him obedience.
How blest were Thousands such as Thee and I,
To be his steps to mount on Victory!
You might, but Bagistanes not have known,
When Philip to augment the Gods was gone,
The Grecian Cities did with Joy depend,
That with his life their bondage shoul'd have end,
And to the Oracle of Delphos send;
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Urge not to know, what's to your fate deny'd,
A greater far than Philip yet remains,
Whose godlike arm shall hold the World in Chains.
Cass.
Were he a God he should have kept his Seat,
Not grieve the World with his immortal weight.
He from the Gods is like a Fury hurld,
To glut their anger on the ravish'd World:
Lys.
Cease, You neglect the duty of your place.—
Haste, and draw out the Horse I brought from Thrace,
And Macedonian foot, which you obey,
And with your armed Ranks inclose the way;
Guard every path, where the Worlds Favourite comes.
Fly high your standards, and provoke your drums.
Exit. Cassander.
But e're you go I'le to your breast impart
A Story of which no Mortal bears a part
to Bagist.
But that bright Excellence of all my heart.
You know my Princess to whose charmes I owe
The purest love, Ith' strangest manner too;
A birth so strange beyond the reach of Fame.
Bag.
I long to hear, that I may know her name.
Lys.
In the last fight in which the stronger side
The World arraign'd, and in that Battle try'd;
When Victory half glutted with the dead,
Whetted her Rage again on those that fled:
Aloft she led us where she laid her Brood,
O're hills of Heroes, and through Seas of blood;
At last, as proud that she had seiz'd the Prey,
Flew still before us, and proclaim'd the day.
Bag.
Too well I knew, what that days Act can boast,
The Fame you won, and what Darius lost.
Lys.
The Battle done, by Alexander sent,
I to Darius rich Pavilion went.
Who like a Merchant in a storme of Sea,
To save his Life had thrown his Crown away,
And all his riches both of love and power,
Strew'd in the way to stop the Conquerour.
But oh misfortune! I too early came,
And found the Tent abandon'd in a flame,
Gaz'd on by Beauties, that with mournful Cryes,
Call'd Parisatis! O ye Gods! She dies!
I heard no more, but like a whirlwind brush'd
The flakes away, and through the Flames I rush'd,
Where I beheld this Goddess on the floor,
Yielding to flames, that did her eyes adore,
In a dark swoond, and yet her form so bright,
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I took this sacred burthen in one arm,
And with the other scattered every harm;
The Fire recoil'd, and hung upon the wall,
Bowing its conquer'd head, and down did fall:
Like the bright Taper, it did soon decay,
That lost its splendor at the sight of day.
Bag.
What then you Gods, did you of her decree?
Lys.
Ask not of her, but what became of me?
Thus, big with all the treasure of the Earth,
I blest her Mother with her second Birth.
Surpris'd at this, she then with joy did weep,
And call'd her senses back from deadly sleep;
As from behind a Cloud the Sun displayes,
And kills the sight with unexpected rayes,
So from this cloud of death her Spirits stole,
And through her eyes they shot into my Soul.
My Passions tale, I had not time to say,
Nor she her sense of gratitude to pay.
For Alexander, like a storm did come,
And bore me off, when I was ne're at home.
The rest you know—
When he Statira to himself has joyn'd,
She for his lov'd Ephestion is design'd:
Judge then, when such a Rival I persue,
If I han't need of such a Friend as you.
Enter to them Parisatis and Melanthe: attended.
Bag.
You shall command me, while I have a heart—
Lys.
See where she comes that makes my Manhood start,
The fairest object in the World, I fear.
Par.
Lysimachus, with Bagistanes here!
[aside.
The News is great, that sayes our glorious Sun
This day lights in the King of Macedon.—
My Sister, Bagistanes, thinks it fit,
You'd see her e're you Alexander meet.
Bag.
I'le haste, and pay my duty at her feet.
[Exit Bagistanes.
Par.
I am surpris'd; I know not what to say,
I'me loath to go, and yet I should not stay.
[Aside.
Forgive me, Sir, to whom I so much owe,
My blushes hide the gratitude I'de show,
Y're welcome and with joy my bosome fill,
But welcome to Darius Daughter still.
[Offers to go off.
Lys.
Stay, Noble Princess, stay, my life to save;
I have no merits, but to be your slave;
[Kneels.
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If you your Fathers Crown, and Titles wore.
Thus as a Saint does to the Altar bow.
Par.
Rise, Gallant Souldier, and I'le hear you now.
Since you Lysimachus so much have done,
I cannot but some gentle pity own,
And yet 'twere better, I that death had dy'd,
Than in my Fathers ruin to divide.—
Talk any thing, but let me beg you then
Talk not of Love, when I must chide agen.
Lys.
How doubly wretched was my Love that time,
Which up to you did on your ruin climb;
Then shew'd you that which you had dy'd to shun,
How we Darius Crown and Kingdomes won.
What more to plague me could my Fate have done!
Well may you then that fatal love despise,
That sav'd your life for Alexanders prize.
Par.
Lysimachus, I blame not what you did,
But I cou'd wish you wou'd your Passion hide.
Cou'd I Darius life but call again,
With all the Pompe and glory of his Reign,
I would your love before a Kings possess,
And with a Crown creat your happiness;
But of a Pris'ner never this require,
She'd make you happier than you cou'd aspire;
And since the Gods have so restrain'd my hand,
In Alexanders chains I more demand,
Than if all Persia were at my command.
Lys.
The Crown you mean you wont go far to take;
'Twill be brought to you for Ephestion's sake.
When Alexander all the World shall lead,
A Present to Statira's Nuptial Bed,
He'le scorn in single happiness to live,
But will her Sister to Ephestion give;
And then to make your happiness the more,
He will all Persia to your wish restore.
Par.
His proferr'd Kingdomes I should then despise,
And scorn to take them, though at any Price;
The Worlds too little to be giv'n to me,
Unless presented, as my mind is, free.
Though with that off'ring I a God should lose,
A blessing so impos'd I would refuse.
Lys.
If not a God, he's of such flesh and blood
Would tempt a Goddess to be soft and good,
Adorn'd like Summer, and so blushing gay,
In April youth, with Cheeks like blooming May.
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And like the Hony-Suckle breath at night.
Par.
This beauteous Animal, so like the Spring
Will soon, like that, decay, and Winter bring—
I should be loth he should my hopes beguile,
And tarry with me but a Summers while,
Let Gods possess his heavenly beauty then;
We Women only were ordain'd for men.
Lys.
You've said enough to shew your noble mind;
Yet greatest Courages may be confin'd.
What will you do in that unlucky hour
Of this Mans Love, and Alexanders Power?
When you are lifted up to such a hight,
I shew so little almost out of sight.
Par.
Now y'are too blame Lysimacus. For know,
That Parisatis, though she be so low;
Yet every thing's too mean for her desire,
And then her self she can't be lifted higher.
I ne're shall from my constant temper fly,
Unless to loose the knot your jealousie wou'd tie.—
Begone, begone,—I'le hear no more to day;
I think too well of you to let you stay:
Seek not for Love, where he in private lies.
For he has wings, and then away he flies.—
Haste, meet the Conquerour.—
Lys.
I go, I go—
And all obedience to your will I'le shew.
[Exit Lysimachus.
Par.
Chide me, Melanthe, Art not thou afraid,
That I to shew my thanks too much have said;
And yet my forward gratitude I chide,
For fear a Love should under it lie hid.
At this admir'd example thou wert by,
When others fled, and with me chose to die.
Mel.
Had you but seen with what a gust 'e came;
How like a God he chas'd away the flame;
You would have thought him after all was lost,
Darius Genius, or his happy Ghost.
Par.
Yet he was forc'd, by honour carry'd on,
Which e're destroy'd ten thousand would have done.
To some great Spirits Fortune is unkind,
To hide occasions they would gladly find;
My safety by the Powers above was meant,
He first i'th' way, was on the errand sent.
[Enter to them Araxis.
Good Gods! Is it Araxis I behold!
How came you hither? How were ye so bold?
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Ask not, since I am Oroondates slave,
The greatest Lover, and of men most brave:
What is there, but a man like him can do,
Inspir'd with Love, and so much valour too?
Rouz'd with the Noise that Alexander brings,
Away his fears like drowzy thoughts he flings:
Awake Araxis say's he; let us haste,
And pay this visit, which may be our last.
The Worlds my Rival, and with glittering shew,
Does at Statira's Feet in triumph bow.
We 'rose, and soon deceiv'd the Watchful throng,
Saying we did to some Ambassadour belong;
Then to the Garden, hurri'd by his flame,
I, and the Prince, the best of Lovers came;
He like a Noble Deer that long had pin'd
In Sandy Plains, but cou'd no Water find;
Till seeing a wanton stream through Meadowes play,
O're Gaps, and hedges thither makes his way:
Thus ne're a Fountain sate this Lover down,
The which Statira's Window seem'd to Crown:
Blest stream, sai's he (and then his Tears ran o're,
Like drops of Pearl upon the Christal shore)
If my Statira of thy saltness hears,
Ah tell her, it was Oroondates tears.—
[Enter to them Oroondates.
See where this wretched Lover comes.—
Par.
'Tis he!—
I am amaz'd at what you told, and what I see.
Oroon.
The Sun approaches, and a plot hath laid
To cover Oroondates with his shade,
And when his glories with your beauties joyn,
You and Statira in his Court shall shine.
Not see me first! I have the cause admir'd,
And have the reason of the Gods requir'd:
Ah whither is my angry Queen retir'd?
Par.
Oh stay not; Alexanders Trumpets sound,
hast Oroondates, 'tis forbidden Ground.
Oroon.
Let Cowards tremble at his mighty voice;
My brain's too steddy to be turn'd with noise:
No earth is hurtful that she's pleas'd to grace;
I'de run to meet her though in any place;
On any ground where Alexander trod,
And dare behold him, were he twice a God.
Par.
Brave man, whose fault is, that thy soul's too great,
That scorning fear, neglects it's mortal seat,
And whilest your lofty spirit soars too high,
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Look back, from this unhappy place remove;
Haste, and preserve the greatest stock of Love.
Oroon.
I cannot till she does my burthen light;
My Loves so great, I stagger with the weight.
Par.
You stay too long, and do your fate suborn.
Oroon.
I have no fate; no threatning but her scorn.
Par.
Shoul'd I but let Statira know ye'are here,
You wou'd be threatned by the scorn you fear;
To save your Life, she wou'd with Love debate,
And rather be unkind to you, then to your fate.
Oroon.
Ah gentle half of my much better part,
She cannot end my Life with greater smart:
To wrack me thus! 'twere better I shou'd try
Ten thousand deaths, than alwayes thus to dye:
If she won't see me now the Skye is clear,
What will she do when thickening Clouds appear?
When Alexander Thunders with his Drums;
Where will she find me when that Torrent comes?
Par.
The Guards are set, and Bagistanes gone;
She cannot now be seen with you alone.
If she obey the dictates of her mind,
She soon will see you in a garb that's kind:—
Go best of men, I dare no more be seen.
[offers to go off.
Oroon.
Stay charming Sister of my beauteous Queen—
If you go to her, tell her, I am driv'n
By Alexander from my blessed Heaven,
And to the bottome of despair decline;
We too can ne're in one Horizon shine;
There like the Sun, I'le lay me down at Night,
And drown in sorrowes all my past delight.—
Tell her, some God, whiles slumber seals her Eyes,
How pittifully Oroondates, lies;
That in kind feeling of the Tears I shed,
She come like Thetis to my wat'ry Bed.
Par.
All this, and more, my Tears from Yours shall plead.
[Exeunt Parisatis and Melanthe.
Oroon.
The Gods renoun your Charitable deed.
Araxis, come, my hopes of this dayes Fate,
The business of my Life and Soul create.
Arax.
Let's watch it then, and mingle with the shew;
Hid in the Croud, we unperceiv'd may go.
Oroon.
Look down, O mighty Love; behold thy flame
Swallow'd, and burri'd, in the Conquerours Name:
In vain thou shoot'st, and aim'st at faithful hearts,
When he sustains, and shivers all thy Darts:
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He'le bind thy fury, and revenge thy power.
[Exeunt omnes.
Finis Actus Primi.
| The Rival Kings : or The Loves of Oroondates and Statira | |