University of Virginia Library

Act. I.

Scene I.

The Curtain being drawn, an Alarm of Drums and Trumpets are heard, the Scene representing a Turret, besieged by Moaron, Psamnis, and Syrians; Zelmura, Phillopater, Zichmi, and Egyptians, appearing on the Walls defending, a skirmish of Darts, which done the Scene changes to Melechadels Pallace.
Enter Melechadel, Ptolomy, and Achmades.
Meh.
Perish the World e're I forsake my Throne,
Or leave that City, which my Birth did own;
The Sun shall freeze, and Nights pale Goddess burn,
The Solid Globe to its first Chaos turn,
E're Melechadel fears: Draw up our Moors,
By Heaven I'l dare the utmost of their pow'rs,
Kings are like Gods, when dauntless they appear,
But worse than Peasants, if their Fate they fear.

Achm.
Great Apis Priests foretel our overthrow,
And Death comes wing'd like light'ning from the Foe.
I speak, Great Sir, not as I fear to die,
For death's a bliss in wars extreamity.
My loyal care mean doubts do far exceed,
Ill fare true Subjects hearts, when Princes bleed.

Ptollo.
Famine ith' City now 'gins to prevail,
And from without Destruction storms like hail;
The tired Souldier, with weak glowing eyes,
Looks down upon the Foe, then falls, and dies;
As if like Basilisks they gave us death,
Not with their dreadful weapons, but their breath.
What can we hope for, where such horrour is!

Melech.
Think on my Conquests past, then hope for this,
The Gods that made me Monarch, did create
My Kingly Soul to have a Kingly fate.
Have I not conquer'd the insulting Moors,
Baffled the Indian and Tartarian Pow'rs,
When with my Troops I Legions have withstood
Of Daring Souldiers: whose warm Seas of Blood
O'reflow'd the Plains with Waves of crimson dye,
And fogs obscur'd the surface of the sky!
Have I not often with the Morning dawn,
Mounted my Chariot by fam'd Princes drawn
Through Memphis, whilst amazements charm'd the throng
To see my glorious Triumph pass along!
And shall we now our fortune fear to try,
He deserves Conquest best, who best dares die.
Bring up our Infantry to the assault,
And see 'em straight conveyed through the dark vault
Under our Palace: Fly Achmades, flie,
Fate points us out this way to Victory,
Embrace occasion e're it be too late,
We'l snatch our Conquest from the Gripes of Fate.
How now, What news.

[Exit Achmates.
Enter Zichmi
Zichm.
The Fence grows thin, my Liege,
And the remainder hardly brook the siege,
Such numbers with their dreadful darts are kill'd,
The Trenches with their liveless Trunks are fill'd,
And those that yet remain, serve but to shew
Omens of conquest to the daring Foe.

Melech.
These fatal objects us more Courage teach,
Ptolomy, bring your Squadron to the breach,
Supply the Walls with Engines fit for spoile,
And on their heads pour Seas of flaming Oyl:
But I forget my Souls far better half,
How fares the Queen, is my Zelmura safe;
Are the Gods kind, and still here death defer.

Zich.
She lives; and all our hopes depend on her:
Upon the Eastern Turret of the Town
From whose high Battlements I saw drop down
Numbers of men, the Queen did dauntless stand,
Terrour coucht in her eye, death in her hand:
The Heartless Crowd, wondring, look up to spy
This new Bellona usher'd from the Sky,
And on their unarm'd fates took the harms,
Which from the valiant Queen fell down in Storms,
By her Example your faint pow'rs turn'd head,
And feeling now that courage which she bred,
Sent such a fierce greeting to the Enemy,
As forc't 'em to treat, almost to fly:
But to their Rescue then, the Syrian Prince,
Their Nations Glory and unmacht defence,
The brave Moaron, best of Generals,
Came like Achilles to the Turret Walls;
Him, when the Queen had found, and envying now
The budding wreaths on his Triumphant brow,
With noble force dismist a dreadful dart
Well aim'd and level'd at the Princes heart,
But his propitious fate the shaft Reverst,
Whose point his fomy Courser's vitals pierc't,
The beast expiring with a grone shrunk down,
And with the Prince fell side long to the ground,
Who straight arising, fir'd with raging Spleen,
Though to revenge, but when he saw the Queen
Like Pallace stand, and knew that it was She
His rage soon quell'd, he bowed his head and knee
As if he thankt her for the Courtesie.

Melech.
His Soul was always noble, but proceed.

Zichm.
After this Act, with more then usual speed,
The fight began a fresh, and lifes dread foe
Plac't a defiance flag on e'ry brow;
The General was hurt in this last charge,
But was by the fierce Queen reveng'd at large
By joyntless men which on the reeking ground,
In heaps paid their last tribute to his wound,
What happened afterwards my absence lost.

Melech.
Let other Monarchs of their Subjects boast,
I have a Theam will fill the mouth of fame
His Trump resounding with a womans name:
A Woman whose brave Spirit do's presage
A happy fortune to Our latter Age,
The Noble Carian Queen whose fame flyes far
For aiding Xerxes in the Persian war,
She, whose renown through our East confine Spreds
For Godlike vertues, and heroick deeds,
Would quit her fading claim did She live now,
And place her Lawrel on Zelmura's brow
Enter a Messenger.
Thy cheerful looks some good event portend,
Say, the foes fled and stile thy self our friend.

Messen.
The Queen is sallied at the Postern gate
Meaning to prosecute victorious fate
She on the foe a fresh assault has try'd,
And charg'd their vauntguard on the weakest side,
Who shrink a pace, and now their most defence
Lyes in the Squadron of the valiant Prince;
Like Glitt'ring Mars, he their main Battle heads,
His Faulchion reeking with the blood he sheds,
His noble Soul raging to see them fly,
But all in vain they'l rather run than dye;
So that by our brave Queen and General
The heartless Foe is beaten from the Wall,

Melech.
The Gods are kind and Just and now I see
The love they bear undaunted Majesty,
There can no ill within their Mansions dwell,
But onely this to make our passions swell
Give us brave Souls then teach 'em to rebel

[Shout within
Zichm.
What means this shout that Ecchoes through the Sky
[Exit Zich.

Enter another Messenger.
Messen.
The day is ours, great Sir, the Syrians fly,
The Queen, our Goddess, that our hopes begun
Have broke their closest ranks and made 'em run,
The Syrian Prince like Trojan Hector stood
His Curace spotted with warm drops of blood,
He in our troops once made a doubtful fray
And maugre our resistance forc't his way
Toward Nilus head
But now of thirty thousand only he
And one brave friend oppose our victory.

Melech.
A glorious Conquest and as fortunate
As the brave Macedonian Monarchs fate,
Whose matchless fame by th'Ignorants ador'd
Made the whole World pay homage to his Sword.
By fortune he, but I by pow'r atcheive
A fate that shall new Laws to nature give,
And make my fame in future Ages live

[Exeunt

SCENE II.

Alarm.
Syrians run over the Stage, after them Moaron with his Sword drawn.
Moar.
Fly slaves to Hell, and may that Devill fear,
That triumphs ore your Souls, torment ye there,
Ye frozen Earthworms, ye infected brood
Of some Claudestine Cowards that for food
Would curse their Parents, and like Sons of Earth
Betray the Nation that first gave 'em Birth,
My infirm vertue would in vain appear
'Twould not be now thought patience but dull fear,
Since fortune to my Arms success deny'd.

Enter Psamnis
Psalm.
We are inclos'd great Prince on e'ry side
The envious tyrant fate hath lodg'd us so
Within the bosome of the insulting foe,
That to escape
If we had thousands, as we are but two,
We well might say, we had too much to do.
With some few Horse I long their pow'r withstood,
And fought with courage witness my dear blood,
But when their fresh supplyes surrounded me,
Grone hoarse with shouts, and ecchoing Victory,
Feeling my strength decay, I then withdrew,
Ambitious of the Fate to die with you.

Moar.
Thou hast this day a matchless Valour shown,
And for thy noble deeds deserv'd renown
From Gods as well as men, but I am now
By Fortunes bateless malice fall'n so low,
That I want means my Gratitude to shew,
And though this day thou didst me oft relieve,
This is the sole reward, I have to give.

[embraces him.
Psam.
Malitious Pow'rs unfit to be ador'd.

Moar.
Nay to disgrace me by a Womans sword,
A Womans act,—oh—'dsdeath, that plagues me more,
Than all the griefs I ever felt before,
But e're I yield Heav'ns spangled roof shall fall,
And in Cimerean shades abscond us all.

Psam.
In slighting Death your Princely mind appears,
Death nothing is, mens torments are their fears:
Death sits in Mists upon our fadeing eyes,
Follows our flight, but if we turn he flies.
[shout.
That shout was near us, they with speed pursue.

Moar.
Let 'em redouble speed and courage too,
Here like Alcides on the Phrygian sand,
Rage in his eyes and thunder in his hand,
I will attend what Fate so ill design'd,
And death with Fame and matchless Honour find.
My Courage shall surpass dull Natures bounds,
I'l fright the insulting Cowards with my wounds,
And when at last my life's a Prey to Fate,
Upon their mangled heaps I'l die in State.

Flourish with Trumpets, then enter Zelmura, Phillopater, Zichmi, Achmades, Halem, and Soldiers.
Zelm.
Yield, Prince; and that we favour may a ford
Pay homage due, and tender up your sword.

Moar.
Yield!—

Phillo.
—do's the word sound ill?

Moar.
—what must I yield?

Achm.
Yourself: a Captive conquer'd in the field.

Moar.
You have no conquest won till I am dead,
Unless you dare to lie, and say I fled,
'Tis but ill Fate, when heartless Vassals run,
And till I'm slain, think you have nothing won.

Phillo.
We have won all, Fate now rewards our toyls,
Our wearied Mules are laden with your spoils;
Whilst the pale Souldier, flying from afar,
Looks back to see the dismal Scene of War:
Your too proud Courage does your judgement wrong,
Grief and distraction sits upon your tongue.

Zelm.
Fortune, to you, no succour dares aford,
What can your hopes depend on then

Moar.
—My Sword.

Achm.
Your Sword—

Moar.
—Yes, this brave badge of Chivalry,
Fate and the Gods are trivial things to me.

Zelm.
Since then the Deities you so despise,
Bow down and yield to me the Victors prize.

Moar.
Wert thou a God, as sure thou art not so,
I should rejoice I had so great a foe;
For they and I have strifes in all affairs,
They keep their blessings back, and I my prayers,
But since thou art no Deity relate,
What great extraction does thy pride creat.

Zel.
I am Zelmura, Queen of these, and thee,
Bright wreaths of Conquest grace my dignity:
The Gods Vicegerent to dispose their Will,
I have their power to save alive or kill:
My smile's a charm, fierce death attends my frown,
Fortune enslav'd stands fetter'd to my Crown:
The Frozen Islands of the North have seen,
And felt the power of Egypts potent Queen,
Whose furr'd Inhabitants with fear and shame,
Heard the resounding Ecchoes of my fame:
By me the Trees and Plants do spring and grow,
My breath can check our Nilus, ebb or flow,
Put present period to thy destiny;
Do all things like a God, this, Sir, am I.

Moar.
These daring boasts betray what weakness blinds
The sense, and swayes insulting womens minds.

Zelm.
He bears a noble Soul—
[Aside.
—this insolence
Suits not your Fate, nor can I brook it Prince.

Moar.
Fate, Queen: Why, what has Fate to do with me?
I am controuler of my Destiny,
Let such as fear to die call chance unkind,
My Fate is as immortal as my mind.

Zel.
In vain Disputes, too long the time we waste,
Yield or this present moment is your last,
Think my advice, Sir, was a favour meant,
Submission yet, may hinder the Event,

Psamn.
Submission's onely for base Cowards fit,
Dull sordid Souls, fram'd onely to submit,
Rather than so honour my counsel draws,
That by the sword, we still protect our cause,
Who knows, but Heaven our forces may unite,
And give us back the Conquest through mear spite.

Zelm.
I'l hear no more, this prolong'd breath grow bold,
And I have been too tame—

[offers to fight
Phillo.
Hold, Madam, hold—
[interposes.
It is my task, should you oppose, in this
All Nations would condemn our cowardise,
And say, that I did in presence the stand,
When Syria's Prince fell by a Womans hand.

Zel.
A Womans hand, is that, Sir, such a shame,
That I must be upbraided with the name,
Let my brave Actions, that mean stile controul,
For though a Woman I've a manly Soul,
Nor will I Honour for a word resign,
I say it is my right

Phillo.
—'tis mine.

Halem.
—or mine

Zelm.
'Tis neithers: Your base arrogance recal,
Claim it again, by Heaven, I dare ye all,
Frown not, nor mutter, I bear too much sway,
Know 'tis a Subjects duty to obey—
Resign on your allegiance or expect
A certain death to follow such neglect.

Phillo.
By duty forc't I to your will agree,
[bowing
But what my honour stains I must not see.

[Exit.
Halem.
Live then a wretch that durst his fame resign,
I am resolv'd by this to cherish mine

[offers to fight.
Zelm.
So valourous, young Sir, mild mercy hence,
Take there reward for disobedience
[Stabs him.
So, now I'me sure thou'lt not usurpe my right
Come Sir defend your self

[to Moaron.
Moar.
—I will not fight.

Zichm.
My Brother slain the Gods have shewn their spite,
[aside.
—but I'le revenge

Zelm.
Can words such fear impart,
Heavens! can a Prince retain a Peasants heart.
Whence Springs thy fear, what envious destiny
Dares thus controul thy Courage.

Moar.
—thoughts of thee,
Wer't thou a man, hadst thou Achilles charm
Of being Sword proof, Strong, and free from harm,
Yet should my pointed vengeance conquest win,
Maugre the pow'r of thy inchanted Skin;
But as thou art a woman, I am Crost,
And all the hopes of my revenge is lost:
For to that Sex my honour makes me bend,
Not fight against but with my blood defend

Zelm.
Something so noble in his soul I find,
Has quite supprest the tempest in my mind,
But my kind thoughts within my breast I'le croud,
[aside
Least my too good opinion makes him proud,
Bear hence the body of the Justly slain,
And such reward may all such traitors gain.

[Exeunt guards with Halem.
Zichm.
Traitor so tyrants call their best of friends
Down thoughts and looks cloud what my Soul intends.

[Exit.
Enter at another door Melechadel, Amasis, Ptollomy and guards.
Melech.
Mirrour of women Star of bright renown,
Protectress of my life and Egypts Crown;
What shall I render loudly to proclaim
New terms of Honour equal to thy fame.
Thou life of all my power, 'tis to thee
I owe my thanks for this dayes victory:
The Gods were drowsie and their Actions slow,
Twas thy brave Sword made Fate her duty know;
For which least I ingratitude should want,
Ask any thing, and take my speedy Grant:
In two requests thy busied thoughts extend,
And to perform my total power I bend.

Zelm.
Your noble vote, Great Sir, I must extol,
It shews a glorious President to all,
Directs rightly how to act and when,
And difference shews 'twixt Kings and moral Men.
A little respite for my sute I crave.

Melech.
Thou can'st not ask the thing, thou can'st not have.
In his defeat—
[pointing to Moaron.
The same o'th' Deities thou hast made small,
And shewn a God-like power above 'em all.

Zelm.
My deeds deserve not half this vast applause,
You owe your Royal thanks to your brave cause.

Melech.
The Cause being tri'd, and conquest our reward,
What means your Slave to stand thus on his guard?

Moar.
Her Slave! by Heaven 'tis false! thou art her Slave,
Her soaring fortune did thy Empire save.
By all the Gods, proud King I am as free
As Heav'n made Man at first, or Fortune thee.
Slavery some abject punishment should own,
But thanks to this I am oblig'd to none.
My sword has more of freedome than thy Throne.

Melech.
Thy Sword is useless now, Fool, thou shalt die,
Nor can the Gods dispose thy chance, but I.
I sit supream and smile upon thy fate,
Whilst thy scorn'd Life proves Vassal to my State:
Thou shalt imprison'd till my triumph be
And then releas'd from enthrawl'd misery,
Thy death shall be my Scene of jollity.

Moar.
You take large licence to pronounce my death,
But think not what attends that fatal breath,
Fearless you may insult o're weaker foes,
But know my life is not at your dispose,
And 'tis most safe though not for your renown,
Instead of seeking mine to guard your own.

Melech.
This insolence my honour cannot bear,
Guards go and bind 'em both—

Moar.
—Stir if you dare.
This ground is fatal, he that first comes on
Sets but the race, which thou at last shalt run,
Cover'd with wounds, I will thy pow'r oppose
I'th' midst and thickest number of my Foes,
Though fatal, yet some pleasure it will be
To see thy mighty Godhead stoop to me.
Let the blind Queen of Chance her Envy shew,
And save thy life by some successeless blow;
Deny'd all help, and pass'd defence, withstood,
I'l rip my breast, and drown thee with my blood.

Melech.
'Dsdeath, go, take, kill him.

[to the Guards.
Zelm.
Hold, he shall not die,—
[stopping the guards
I onely must dispose his destiny;
But that obedience to your will be shewn,
[to the King
Of my too great requests, this shall be one.
Souldiers retreat, I have the Kings whole power,
And leave me to appoint his fatal hour.

Melech.
Ask Something else, this Suit I cannot grant.

Zelm.
Your bound by Oath, take heed how you recant.

Melech.
My Oath, what's that? go, go, once more take sieze.

Zelm.
He meets his death, who his command obeys:
turning to Moarons side.
Perjur'd, and poor, send now your forces on,
By heaven, we'l cut the props from your weak Throne,
In his defence to my last drop of blood,
I'le meet thy pow'r, though through a crimson flood
I wade to the atcheivement, to make known,
A faithless King's a traitor to his crown.
Unless immediately you pronounce peace,
And cause your factious multitude, to cease.

Melech.
Retire a while—
[to Guards and Souldiers.
—Madam you have your will
But what curst Feind seduc't you to this ill
Surpasses knowledge, but the Prince shall live:
Him you dare thus protect, I dare forgive.

Moar.
Forgive, your words are still so arrogant,
Fit answers for such Epithites I want.
Forgive your slaves some impious offence,
Such as can crowch with humble penitence;
And know whilst valour in my breast does live,
She cannot me protect, nor you forgive.

Melech.
Yet though your courage with your pow'r concur,
You now are glad to take your life from her.

Moar.
'Tis false, my life is at my own dispose,
Sprung from the stalk on which my courage grows,
Nor would I for a slow destruction stay,
But boldly run and meet death half the way,
Honours broad path my soul so well has known,
That now to live or dye to me's all one.

Melech.
The rugged path of death, few men would choose
Had they the licens't power to refuse,
Which death your ransome, Sir, shall now excuse,
Live fearless in our Court and free from ill,
I'me now your friend, though much against my will.

[aside.
Zelm.
This grant has back my good opinion gain'd,
He forfeits worth whom perjury does stain.
Honour the Souls of Monarchs best does grace,
Contempt and rigour onely suite the base.
To morrow you shall know my last request,
'Till when it must be treasur'd in my breast.
You'l keep your vow.

Melech.
My oath has made it good,
And if I fail infection seize my blood.

Zelm.
Disperse, brave Prince, the cloud upon your brow,
To fate, not onely you, but all must bow;
Heaven does mishaps for greatest souls create,
The bravest men are most unfortunate.

Moar.
Heaven then's a cheat so are the Gods and fate,
If there no difference be in punishment,
A Traitor is as happy as a Saint,
And may as soon a glorious blessing share,
As he that spends his life in sighs and prayer.

Melech.
Your rashness voted 'gainst heavens excellence,
Betray more haughty passion, Sir, than sense,
Motives of sorrows raign or love impure,
But in our Court, your grief may find a cure.

Amas.
Spiritual affairs be the Zealots care,
persued by such as dote on their dispair:
Your worth may, Sir, a fitter work Improve,
Imploy'd in Acts of honour, wit, or Love.

Moar.
That love must then be yours what charms are here
touching her hand.
My beating heart much alter'd do's appear,
And I the marks of unknown passion bear;
But I must hide it, Since proud fate to day
In my defeat its malice did display.
My life I'le cherish with design to prove
My soul the ills of Fortune is above.
The Plagues the Gods inflict with scorn I'le bear,
And I will live cause sate shall see I dare.

[Exeunt.