University of Virginia Library

SCENE. V.

Enter Selabdin, Aldabar, Psamnis, and Syrian Soldiers.
Selab.
Thus far our enterprize proves fortunate,
Favour'd by heaven and propitious fate.
Our happy forces with a noble hast,
High rocks and barren Mountains have o'repast,
Of this parcht climate desolate and waste,
Proud Queen, success thou didst but ill divine,
When thou my Son ignobly didst confine,
Or that his fate e're long might turn to thine.
But by my deeds thy pride shall quickly see,
A Father's Courage, Love, and Piety.

Psamn.
The King late murder'd by her Tyranny,
Methinks should pluck down vengeance from the skie.
And to requite, the worst of torture's due:
Death will oblige her if receiv'd from you.

Aldab.
Heroes alone, by Monarchs hands should die,
Trophies most fit for sacred Majesty,
Which in this war your power might persue,
Were the brave Prince but here to second you,
But till his sword we in our troops have seen,
'Tis vain to think to captivate the Queen,
But we are tardy let us hence to night,
And charge their drowzy guards e're mornings light.

Selab.
Brave soul yet stay such hast our power may wrong,
Our men are tir'd, and the Journey's long,
Let therefore all our troops to night be drawn,
In order to be ready with the Dawn,
A mornings march will bring our army down,
To fix our tents in prospect of the town,
Amidst your bounty, Gods grant but this one,
Give but my age pow'r to revenge my Son,
My incense smoke shall dim your azure skies,
And feast you with continual sacrifice.
[shout.
What means this shout.

Enter a Messenger.
Messen.
May heaven, great Sir, your Enemy's destroy,
As it do's now procure the general Joy,
The Prince.

Selab.
—Hah, what of him.

Mess.
—Thus low by me
In humblest duty greets your Majesty.

Selab.
Thou darest not mock me.

Mess.
—Not, and hope to live,
But him you cannot hope for, there receive.

Enter Moaron and kneels.—
Selab.
This Scene of Joy do's my past griefs asswage,
Welcome thou prop of my declining age,
Honour forget my weakness this blest day,
If nature makes my eyes some tribute pay,
By say, what more then God did set thee free,
Or was it some transcendant Deity,
Whose pow'r we know not, and must therefore pay
A reverence fitting so supream a sway.

Moar.
No Sir, the Gods, I have not found so just,
'Twas on a Cause much more miraculous,
No troops of daring Soldiers did I see,
Forcing their way through death to set me free,
Heaven for my succour no such aid decreed,
'Twas the brave Queen her self perform'd this deed.

Selab.
The Queen, unheard of Nobleness.

Moar.
—'Twas she,
That scorning fate pronounc't my liberty,

Selab.
Wonder invades my breast, but say what cause
From her proud soul this generous action draws,
Honour, or did her fear take safer course,
To render what my pow'r e're long might force.

Moar.
Her haughty courage only fame persues,
Contemning fortunes ills; for when the news
Of your arrival came no signs of fear,
Or dull mistrust did in her face appear,
But with a look that did her heart express,
She heard the story of your good success,
Then rising from her seat, and seeing where
Her Nobles looks betray'd their doubtful fear,
With an undaunted voice She strove t'inspire
Their freezing Courages with her own fire,
Her brave Oration past, she turn'd to me,
And with a dauntless generosity,
Voting my liberty spoke thus.—
Lead on your troops, and there your thanks afford,
Where the rough Language of the reeking Sword,
Disputes in honours cause, and only deeds,
Not words, for grateful actions intercedes:
This said she from my Presence did retire,
And left me there to envy and admire.

Selab.
For this brave act all grateful thanks is due,
She do's at once slight and oblige me too.
Good Heaven direct my actions how to pay
Her generous heart the best and noblest way,
And since the Gods decree no war in vain,
May the sublimest cause the Lawrel gain.

Moar.
He that i'th' Battle dares to second me,
Reaps from my heart a Brothers amity,
A Cowards soul destructive fears surround,
Whilst the brave Soldier smiles upon his wound,
With brandisht Sword he cuts his way before,
Not fearing numbers or mistrusting pow'r,
Steel me thou daring God of Martial souls,
Whose blest unbounded influence controuls
O're death despising Hero's, make my arm
Strong like my will to do and suffer harm,
That doing what a Nat'ral pow'r exceeds,
Proud death may gaze, and wonder at the deeds,
His rigour could not equal, but at last,
If through continued wounds my spirits haste,
To leave their Mansions. Grant me this kind fate,
Within this arm fresh vigour to create,
Till from my heap of victims gushing blood,
Make on the barren Earth a swelling flood,
That like a Conquerour, I may, when dead,
Swim to Elizium through the blood I shed.

Selab.
Such vertue, Heaven must guard or cease to be,
What Mortals think, the seat of Piety,
If in this enterprize the Gods ordain,
A fate that puts a Period to my reign,
My happy Age shall yet this honour have.
To lie with victims pil'd upon my grave.

[Exeunt.