University of Virginia Library

SCENE,

A Tent Royal.
Selabdin, Aldabar, and Souldiers. Phillopater, Ptollomy, Achmades, Prisoners.
Selab.
Sound a retreat to our remaining Pow'rs,
Since fate now plainly shews, the conquest ours,
Be it your charge to keep the Pris'ners Close,
[to Aldabar.
Till at my leasure. I their fate dispose,
But see the Author of our happiness,
And brave disposer of our good success,
Enter Moaron, Psamnis, and Souldiers. Moaron kneels to Selabdin.
This lowly Posture do's some suit express,
Tis thine what e're it be, thou canst not want
A Boon that lyes within my pow'r to grant.

Moar.
Encourag'd then by awful Majesty,
I boldly ask these pris'ners liberty,
And though this Land we have by conquest gaind
From hostile acts I beg you to refrain,
And still permit the noble Queen to reign,
In this a Fathers kindness will be seen,
This gives me pow'r to gratifie the Queen,
Who Goddess like, while I incompast round
With troops of Horse, when reeling on the ground,
Dispairing of all aid my Sword I held,
Up brandisht thus, to give a last farewel,
With an unmatcht command their rage appeas'd,
And from a swift destruction me releas'd,
If then, dread Sir, my merits claim a Place,
In th'unvallued blessings of your grace,
Give back her Kingdome set these pris'ners free,
And by one act of generosity
Perfected, let your glorious deeds relate,
You excel all in honour as in fate.

Selab.
To render back a Nation bravely won,
Honour sole Ransome and to please a Son,
In stubborn hearts perhaps regret might move
Where proud ambition swayes paternal Love.
But I so well thy mind and vertue know,
In a less act my Love, I cannot shew,
Thy suit is granted, do what likes thee best,
Either to sign a Peace or still molest,
This act shall shew to forraign Enemies,
How much I honour above profit prize.

Moar.
This noble grant, all heaven do's out do
The drowsie Gods can Monarchy bestow,
But to such fame their title is not good,
They give no Kingdoms won with loss of blood,
They Sit on easie Thrones and take delight,
Being far themselves from hurt, to see us fight,
But were they flesh and frail Mortallity,
As timerous and as prone as we to die,
They'd soon confess, a dear bought Nation given,
Would quite surpass the bounty of their heaven.

Phillo.
To souls so fraught with Honours Dignity's,
Unbinds, the Pris'ners.
The Gods do justly bestow victory's.

Ptollo.
This acts so great it were too much to do,
For any Son of Glory less than you.

Achm.
Since fate decrees our future Dignity,
Should the brave off-spring of your bounty be,
Wee'l to the Queen this joyful news declare,
And from the peoples hearts vanish dispair.

Selab.
No tumult let on pain of Death be shown,
When we shall enter with our pow'r the town,
And see that none my present deeds dispute,
This act of honour shall be absolute.

Moar.
In this brave grant you doubly bless your Son.

Selab.
'Tis fit you should dispose a Crown you won,
My age Fame's Lawrels ne're can better know,
Than when they nobly flourish on thy brow,
For when the Winter of my blood shall seize
My heart and chillness, usher a disease,
Thy fame resounding load, from every tongue,
Shall thaw my veins, and once more make me young.

[Exeunt.