University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Nichomede and Laodice.
Laod.
My Joys Sir, must exceed, to finde that you,
To whom so many glorious Wreaths are due,
My Chains, to all these Laurels can prefer,
And be my Captive, though a Conqueror,
That all those Actions which the World dismay,
To such low Merits should their Homage pay;
And yet amidst this height of Joy, I finde
A secret Passion which afflicts my minde.
With fear I see you fear that springs from Love,
Doubtful this Court to you may fatal prove.
You have a subtile Step-Dame, Sir, whose wit
Has made your Father to her Charms submit,
And she does manage him with so much Skill,
He's but the Property to act her Will;
What She enjoyns more force than Law does bear,
And then what Safety can you hope for here?
Besides her Hate, which was enough before,
Is from our mutual Love, encreas'd to more,
And now her Son, your Borther's return'd too,

Nicho.
I know it, Madam, and that he courts you.
The Romans did him home from Hostage send,
Not out of kindness, but a weightier end.
I too well find what 'twas did him recall,
He was Flaminia's price for Hannibal.
That mighty Man was for his Ransome paid,
And by the King had been to Rome betraid,
Had not his Courage taught him how to free
Himself by Poyson, from that Slavery,
Which gazing Romans exercise on those
Who were their Terror, whilst they stood their Foes.
'Twas not till after my last happy Fight
Which Cappadocia's Kingdom did unite
To our Bithinia, I this News did hear
Which made me weep for him, and for you fear:
That Fear begat an Anger would break forth,
So to Theagenes, whose steddy worth
I knew, I of the Army gave command,
And hither slew, these Troubles to withstand,
Hoping my presence would my Queen oblige,
For still Flaminius does the King besiege,
And if that Hannibal this Errand were,
He, being dead, why staies he longer here?
Unless it be, which I believe too true,
To aid my Brothers weak pretence to you.

Laodice.
I doubt not, but this Roman vertue may
Strive to oblige the Queen in her own way;
That bloody Sacrifice she paid to him,
Must have engag'd him to the utmost crime:
But, be it so, yet why should you complain,
Why should you fear the worst he can obtain?
My love o're you a weak Ascendant hath,
If 'tis your Presence, must secure its faith.
That Spirit must be mean, which does prefer
Poor Attalus, to Asia's Conquerour.
Att'lus, of whom the most that can be se'd,
Is that he was a Roman Hostage bred,
And at full height of Courage will appear
To shake at Eagles, and an Adile fear.

Nicho.
Death, Madam, Death, shall here an Empire gain,
E're I such jealous thoughts do entertain:
I Force from them, not weakness fear in you,
For what if Rome appear against us too—

Laodice.
Sir, I'm a Queen, and bear that Noble Soul,
Which Rome, nor your Kings Thund'rings can't controul.
Though he my Guardian be, he cannot have
More power o're me than what my Father gave.
Whose Will having design'd me yours, there's none
Can choose elsewhere for me, but I alone.
By my own choice, and by my Fathers care
I'm destin'd Spouse to the Bithinian Heir.
And this great Heart of mine will never bend
To let a Subjects Right o're it pretend.
Banish your doubts.

Nicho.
Ah Madam, let me fear
Whilst I behold you thus exposed are
Unto a Fury, who both hath the Will,
And Power to act, all she conceives of ill.
Who, but to place a Crown on her Sons Brow,
Would Justice, Law, and Nature overthrow,
And greedily the sacredst Rights invade:
She may force you, who Hannibal betraid.
Nor can there Faith from those expected be
Who break the Laws of Hospitality.

Laod.
As little Natures Laws will you protect
From those who to such Rights show no respect.
Your being here advances her Design,
And does expose both your own Life and mine.
Coming without leave, some suspition wears,
And she will buzz it in your Fathers Ears.
Who by her Charms too soon will be enclin'd
To sacrifice you to his jealous Mind.
Then I, who stood so firm before, become
A Victim to the Mother and the Son.

Nich.
'Twas fear of you that made me take this course

Laodice
Whilst you were in the Camp I fear'd no force:
This, this Sir, you for my support should do,
Order things so that they may still fear you.
Back to your Army, then protect me there,
They are secure to act whilst you are here.
But Armies Rules to Politicians teach,
And you may boldly do it out of reach.
Valour, though high, to numbers still must yield,
You're but one here, they none, when you're ith'Field.
And though the noise of Victory sound high,
'Tis seldom Fame has quell'd an Enemy.
Sir, were you both the Worlds Delight and Dread,
Entring the Court, you tamely yield your Head.
Once more I say return, by that Renown
You there have gain'd, you here will best be known:
Return, and with your own, secure my Fate,
You banish mine, when you theire Fears create.

Nicho.
Ah! To the Camp perswade me not to go,
There the Queens Hate, her Murderers do sow
Secret and thick: Two I have brought along,
By their Confessions to make known my Wrong,
And disabuse the King, who though he be
Husband to her, is Father still to me.
And though she Nature should to silence charm,
Yet three great Kingdoms added by this Arm
Unto his Crown, will loudly let him know,
That he does something to my Valour ow.
Or if that by the Rigor of my Fate,
I must become the Victim of her Hate.
If both the Camp and Court my Life pursue,
Will you deny me then to dye by you?

Laodice
My past Advice I trembling now recall,
If we must die, let us together fall.
Courage, brave Prince, they may perhaps ensnare
Themselves, in those Traps they for us prepare.
The People love you, and abhor their Arts,
And he Reigns safest who does Reign o're Hearts.
But here's your Brother—

Nicho.
Since he does not know
Who I am, keep me undiscover'd now.

SCENE II.

Laodice, Nichomede and Attalus.
Attalus.
Must then the Charms dwell in those Eyes appear
Onely to me, of all the World, severe?
Shall I ne're gain one of those blest regards,
With which you, Madam, use to conquer Hearts?

Laod.
To conquer yours, if these Sir, don't suffice,
When I design't, I'le speak it by my Eyes.

Atta.
Of what's all yours, you can no Conquest make.

Laod.
Then a more pleasing Mein, I need not take.

Atta.
But yet to keep that heart, I must implore.

Laod.
I rather had such ill got Goods restore.

Atta.
It's Value is too poor, your Soul to touch.

Laod.
To juggle Sir, I value you too much,
Our distance of Degree admits it not,
Then for the heart you tell me I have got,
Where should't be kept?

Atta.
Ah Madam, in your Brest,

Laod.
That Place is by another, Sir, possest.
And you so oft hath this great Truth bin told,
That your Address as senseless is as bold.

Atta.
Happy the Man, whom Fortune so does grace,
To give admission to so blest a Place.
But I should think him happier far who might,
Fairly dispute, and gain from him this Right.

Nicho.
E're that be done Rivers with Blood must swell,
This Conquerour Sir, preserves his Conquest well.
Go ask his Foes, 'mongst them 'twill best be known,
What 'tis to gain that Fort he once has won.

Atta.
But there is one who will assault it so,
That he must yield it where he will or no.

Laod.
You may mistake,

Atta.
If the King be the Man.

Laod.
He's just and wise, and wills but what he can.

Atta.
And what cannot his Soveraign Greatness do?

Laod.
Talk not so high, he knows what is my Due.
Though King, he acts as to a Queen with me,
That's not by Force, but by Civility.

Atta.
There's much included in the civil prayer
Of Kings, unto whose power we subject are.
But if a Kings request can take no place,
Yet Rome with hers will my Addresses grace.

Nico.
Rome Sir?

Atta.
Yes Rome, do you her kindness fear?

Nico.
No Sir, but lest some Roman over-hear,
For if Rome knew th'Addresses by you made,
Youl'd gain her Anger, whilst you hope her Aid.
Scorning to see her Nursling own a Flame
Injurous to the lustre of her Name.
That Title which does so much glory wear,
Of Roman Citizen, sheel'd from you tear,
For she too mighty thinks it to bestow
On that poor soul, can to a Queens love bow.
Have you forgot that neither King, nor Queen,
Rome equal to a Burgess do esteem.
If she have form'd in you that generous Mind,
Let her th'imppressions of her Maxims find.
Resume a pride then worthy her and you,
And studying something to your glory due,
Pursue this Ignominious Flame no more,
But ceasing the Armenian Queen to adore.
Seek out a Love more worthy your high place,
That's of some Tribunes or a Pretors Race.
For such a high-born Match Rome thinks you fit,
And lest your Royal Birth exclude you it.
By her Adoption you have put on,
Authority for such Ambition.
Break loose then, Sir, from this reproachful Chain,
And leaving Queens to Kings they so disdain.
For things more vast and high, your thoughts reserve,
And so your greatness, and Romes pride preserve.

Attalus.
If this man, Madam, do to you belong,
Forbid his boldness, or restrain his Tongue,
That I his utmost insolence might hear,
I yet have forc'd my Anger to forbear,
But if he shall continue in this strain,
To smother 't longer, I shall strive in vain.

Nicho.
No matter, Sir, to whom I do belong
Can Reason loose it's value on my tongue?
Set Love apart, and I'le be judg'd by you,
What Glories to this Roman Name are due,
The King and Queen, so high the Title priz'd,
They'l not be pleas'd to see it now despis'd.
Their value of the mighty thing appears
In giving up to it your Infant years.
From four years old 't has rob'd them of your sight,
Can you think now, they will that Glory slight.
Or suffer for the Marriage of a Queen,
You forfeit Honours they so much esteem;
No rather jealous of so rare a Treasure.

Attalus.
Madam, once more I ask, Is it your pleasure,
That insolent man of me, this scorn should make?
Or is 't from you he does his freedom take?

Laod.
Since talking to you as a Roman, he
Offends you Sir, give me the liberty,
To treat you in a way which you may own
With no less Honour, that's a Monarchs Son.
But Sir, in this degree you must allow
You to a Prince your Elder, ought to bow.
That though so near ally'd in blood you be,
It takes not from his difference of degree,
But to his Birth there ought respect be paid,
Yet you, he absent, does his Rights invade.

Atta.
If that Right be the Honour to be yours,
One word from you, that Right for me procures.
And if my Birth does lessen my degree,
'Tis by you, Natures fault repair'd may be;
But if as a Kings Son, I so much owe,
Permit that I speak like a Roman now.
And know there's none born so, but are design'd
To command Monarchs, and be unconfin'd;
Know that my Love's the Project of a Soul,
Contemns Subjection, and disdains Controul;
Know that—

Laod.
I know that in my Crown you finde
More Charms, than in my Person, or my Minde;
But such as I am, both my Crown and Me,
Are vowd that Brothers, who your King must be;
And were He here, his Presence might give end
To all this mighty Passion you pretend.

Attalus.
Might I but see him, he should know from me—

Nicho.
Beware, such Wishes, Sir, may dangerous be;
For if he hear them, you may chance to prove
The Vengeance due on those attempts his Love.

Atta.
Sir, you shall pay me that Respect is due.

Nicho.
I know not who omits it of us two.

Atta.
Whilst thou knowst me, dar'st thou thus boldly prate?

Nicho.
By knowing you Prince, I can set my Rate,
But you being ignorant of my Degree,
Cannot tell what you ought to pay to me.

Atta.
Ah Madam, suffer my just Anger may

Laod.
Yes, yes; but now your Mother comes this way.

SCENE III.

Nichomede, Arsinoe, Laodice, Attalus, and Cleone.
Nicho.
Pray Madam, let the Prince your Son here, know
What's the Respect he unto me does owe;
For want of it he is outragious grown,
A fault which surely does but ill become
Such rare bred Mindes.

Arsinoe.
Sir, do I then see you!

Nicho.
Yes, and you shall see Mithrobates too.

Arsinoe.
Oh that's a Traitor!

Nicho.
He talks something true,
You best know if it ought to trouble you.

Arsinoe.
This swift Return I cannot understand,
Where is your Army?

Nicho.
Under good command.
Of my return you soon the Cause shall hear,
I left a Master and a Mistress here.
One Rome and you have taken from my Cares,
T'other I'le save both from your Hands and theirs.

Arsin.
Is this the Cause that does you hither bring?

Nicho.
Yes, and I hope you'l serve me with the King.

Arsin.
Yes Sir, I'le serve you, just as you hope so:

Nicho.
Of your good will I the assurance know.

Arsin.
I'le go and to the King this Business move.

Nicho.
And I'le go think how I may grateful prove.

Arsin.
Do so, you may depend upon my Care,

Nicho.
Whilst I know yours, you guess what my thoughts are

Atta.
Madam, is this Prince Nichomede?

Nicho.
Yes Sir,
Who comes to see if Rome can you prefer,
To him.

Attalus.
Excuse me if I did not know.

Nicho.
Yourself Prince, and deserving Rival show.
And if you dare design t'assault me here,
Still in your looks a noble boldness wear.
But as I to her Aid, am singly come,
Threaten me not with the Kings Power, or Rome;
As I defend, do you attempt alone,
I'le set by all pretences to the Crown.
Try it thus Prince, and we shall soon see then
If Rome, or Hannibal breeds braver Men.

SCENE IV.

Arsinoe, Attalus, and Cleone.
Arsin.
Go, that Excuse of thine to him was base,
When thou beheldst him brave me to my Face.

Atta.
Madam, what could I do in this Surprize?
This quick return destroys your Enterprize.

Arsin.
No Attalus, it gives it Life, and Heart,
Go thou and finde Flaminius on my part.
Let him in private here conducted be,
And of thy Fortunes leave the Cure to me.

Atta.
But Madam, if—

Arsin.
Go, no more if, nor and,
When done, thou these Intreagues shalt understand.

SCENE V.

Arsinoe, Cleone.
Cleo.
Madam, do you hide from him his own Concern?

Arsin.
Yes, and have Reasons thou dost not discern.
I fear his heart would my Designes oppose,
I fear that vertue which to Rome he owes
Has taught him, there's no Glory so sublime,
Can recompence the hazard of a Crime.

Cleon.
Those should guess Rome less scrupulous, who knew.
How Hannibal she did to death pursue.

Arsinoe.
Be not in charging Rome with Guilt deceiv'd,
'Twas I, and but one Roman, who contriv'd
The whole Intreague of that great Heroes Fall;
Rome still had granted Life to Hannibal,
And would not for a more inviting Cause,
Have made a Breach of hospitable Lawes;
For though whilst she did his great Conduct know,
Prudence forbad his Sojourn with a Foe,
And therefore to make good his Peace with them,
Antiochus was forc'd to bannish him.
Yet freed both from Romes Envy, or her Fear,
We being Allies, he might have still liv'd here.
Had not Revenge prompted Flaminius too,
Things which the Senate would have blush'd to do.

Cleone.
What desperate Cause could raise his Hate so high,
That to allay it, Hannibal must dye?

Arsin.
A Fathers Loss of Honor, and of Life,
Hast thou not heard, how in that fatal strife
'Twixt Rome, and Carthage, in one bloody Scene,
Acted nigh to the Lake of Thrasimene,
Flaminius Father, then Romes General,
Fell by the mighty Hand of Hannibal?
The Son since burning to revenge that shame,
A close Conspirator with me became,
And for to have the object of his Hate
Deliver'd up, procur'd the Roman State
To send my Attalus from Hostage home,
And farther whisper'd Jealousies in Rome
Of Nichomede's Conquests here, which might
(Should he to them the Armenian Realm unite
By Marriage with Laodice) one day
To Romes increasing Greatness put a stay;
On which the Senate, who now jealous grew
Of such an Empire, and such Valour too,
Did him as their Ambassadour propound,
To break the Marriage, and the Empire bound:
And this is what Rome undertook to do.

Cleone.
And this makes Attalus, his Mistress woo,
But yet, why did not Rome her self concern,
E're his Return had made her Love too firm?

Arsin.
No, for whilst he a conquering Army led,
'T had been too much to affront him at their Head.
Here we dare do't, and 'twas my Plot at length,
By cunning slights to draw him from his Strength;
To Mithrobates, I did teach the way,
Who seeming false to me, did him betray,
Whisp'ring a thousand pannique Fears, that he
Had been to murder him, suborn'd by me,
That fiery Spirit by degrees he won,
And gently leads him to destruction.
I know he'l to the King for Justice call,
But from that Justice he shall finde his Fall.
His Accusations as my Engines move,
Will fortifie me in his Fathers Love.
At his first sight I did appear dismaid,
And by my change of colour seem'd afraid;
But he mistakes much that Surprize of mine,
Since his Return, was wholly my Design.

Cleone.
But what e're Rome or Attalus pretend,
That Queen will never to his wishes bend.

Arsin.
The Love he showes to her I have design'd
Only the King, the Court, and Rome to blinde,
Not that I would the Armenian Crown procure,
But our Bithinian, for my Son secure.
That done, I care not where the Queen espouse,
But freely leave her whom she please to chuse.
This Passion of my Sons if only prest,
To raise fresh Tempests in the Princes Brest;
Who when he sees the King set on by Rome,
An Advocate for Attalus become,
Will grow outragious, and induced be,
To brave that Father is as fierce as he.
Whose Heat by cunning ways to Flames I'le blow,
And work this daring Lovers overthrow,
Before he blinded by his Love, shall see,
The least intreague of this great Mistery.
By this thou see'st all that I do pretend,
But sure Flaminius does me now attend.
I'le go—the Secrets of thy Queen preserve,

Cleone.
My Faith long try'd does not a Doubt deserve.