 | The Siege of Babylon |  |
ACT. II.
The SCENE, The Camp under the Walls of Babylon.Enter Eumenes and Lysimachus, leading Ptolomy wounded.
Lysi.
Great, as your passion, you have courage shown,
But Fortune, has your mighty deeds o'rthrown,
And she, into whose hands, you would have lay'd
The treasure of your love, has you betray'd.
Yet I, by virtue, will my love advance,
And no advantage take, of Arms, or Chance.
Ptol.
Bright Honour, all your glorious actions sways,
And Crowns your Brows, with Mirtle, and with Bays
Against your life, this day I had design,
Yet you, with hazard, of your own, sav'd mine,
Stopping the progress, of your great success,
You ran, to save a Rival, in distress.
Lysi.
If, to a Rival, I did succour lend,
It was, because, that Rival was my friend:
But Fortune had, in giving death to you,
Depriv'd my love, of all its glory too:
With what bright lustre, will my true love shine,
When virtue gives it conquest, over thine?
Ptol.
That virtue, which shines in your Soul so clear,
Does, in my breast, raise jealousie, and fear;
I doubt, the pow'r of its illustrious charms,
Will ravish Parisatis, from my Arms.
But tho, I see your Trophies in the Field,
And know your pow'r, yet I can never yield,
In Arms, brave Rival, me you are above,
But yet, I will your equal be, in love:
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Though I oppose my Reason, and my Friend.
Lysi.
I should esteem you less, if you should prove
More constant in your Friendship, than your love:
If, in your love, you could inconstant be,
I should believe, you might be so to me.
Nor did I shew my kindness, on that score,
My Thoughts were not, so very mean, and poor:
Love on, and with me, still in love contend,
If you more Rival grow, I'le grow more Friend.
Ptol,
Friend! let me die, lest I ungrateful prove,
I can die for you, but not cease to love.
Eume.
'Tis time, brave Friends, to end this generous strife,
And, to your smarting Wounds, some ease to give.
Ptol.
From hence, Eumenes, I will never goe,
'Till brave Orontes Destiny I know.
Eume.
Tho' he my Quarter, next to his assign'd,
The Great Thalestris, took up all my mind,
Such wonders, did that brave Virago do,
As rais'd love, in my breast, and envy too.
I saw her lead, her valiant women on,
And boldly, to the greatest dangers run,
Not for my self, but much for her afraid,
I always nigh her fought, to give her aid.
When I stones falling, on her head, beheld,
I ran between, and caught them on my Shield:
I watch'd the darts, as from the Walls they flew,
And between them, and Her, my self I threw.
But she, disdainful, did my kindness shun,
And more provok'd, did more on dangers run,
Till she, at last receiv'd a dangerous blow,
Which, to the ground, did the brave Queen o'rthrow.
Lysi.
But where is now, our gallant Amazon?
Eume.
Sir, she is, to the General's Quarter gon,
For she had heard, a murmuring Rumour tell,
That in th' Assault, the brave Orontes fell.
Enter Thalestris, Araxis, and Guard of Amazons.
But see, she's here—
Lysi.
Where is Orontes?—
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Araxis best does know.
Arax.
I know not, whether he now lives, or no,
I'm yet amaz'd, to think, what he has done,
For by himself, he Babylon has won.
Nothing could force his Courage, to retire,
Which prest th'row Storms of Stones, of Darts, and Fire
In spite of all, my Master forward went,
Till he, at last, had gain'd the Battlement,
There like some God, he threat'ned the whole Town,
And all their Force, and Rage sustain'd alone,
For tho, his Souldiers did no Courage lack
They were, by force of Arms, all beaten back.
Lysi.
If brave Orontes lives, wee'l set him free,
Eume.
If dead, we will revenge his Destinie.
Ptol.
We the proud Mistress, of the World, will burn,
And all her lofty Spires, to Ashes turn.
Thal.
Let us, this Night, for a new storm prepare,
Fortune, does oftentimes, change sides in War,
Though now, we have receiv'd the worst, in fight,
Let's try, to'assault them, favour'd by the night.
After success, we may expect the Foe,
More negligent, and more secure will grow.
Lysi.
We'll to the General's Tent withdraw, and straight
In Counsel, what you now propose, debate.
[Ex. Lysi. and Ptol.
Arax.
To enter Babylon disguis'd, I'le try;
And serve my Master, and his Friends, or dye:
Fortune, assist me, and propitious be,
And I'le build Altars, to thy Deitie.
[Exit.
Eume.
Madam, how like the Sea, when calm, you snow,
So soft your aspect, and so smooth, your brow;
But once, this day, when you grew rough in Arms,
You seem'd to me, like the Wild Seas, in Storms.
The quiet Sea, does some soft pleasure yield,
But its great power, in Tempests is beheld,
His dreadful majesty, then best appears,
When he shoots up his Waves, to the bright Stars
Tho' you seem sweet, in your soft smiling Charmes,
You are more noble, in your dreadful Arms.
'Twas that fierce bravery, which I saw in you,
That only could, my untam'd Heart, subdue
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But mine, more strange, from their fierce Lightning came.
Thal.
And so it seems, Since you so boldly dare
To me, an Amazon, your Love declare:
But since, my fierceness, did your Love beget,
I ever, will your Love, with fierceness treat:
With Anger, Pride, with Furie, and Disdain,
And not with Smiles, your Love I'le entertain.
Eume.
Soft Love, will all your Anger, soon asswage;
Or, with my Blood, I will appease your Rage.
Thal.
In Armes, and Wars, we Amazons delight,
We are all bred, to labour, and to fight.
Love, Ease, and Softness, we as evils shun,
But soon to Battels, and to dangers run.
If among us, any weak Cowards be,
We make them Slaves, to serve the valiant free,
Or banish them, as Bees, drones from their hive.
Eume.
Ah! that the God of Love, his power would shew,
And with his powerful Armes, your Heart subdue:
That you might taste, what Joys, in Love abide,
And know the pain, to be of Love deny'd.
Thal.
My women doe the Joys of Conquest know,
No pain like that, of flying from the foe.
Our joys, and paines, both real are, and true,
None, those of Love, but in their fancies knew.
We the Chemera laugh at, more than hate,
Which your false joyes, and punishments create.
Thal.
Hither, Eumenes, I for Glory came,
Drawn by the Valiant Alexanders Fame,
By wars, my Fame, and Knowledg to improve,
And not to hear, your idle talk of Love.
Let Love, and Peace, to weaker souls seem good,
They're things, which cann't, by us be understood.
Eume.
But when, the sweets, of gentle Love, you find,
You, both to Love, and me, will grow more kind,
The God of War, o'recome, by Love's soft Charmes,
Pliant and gentle grew, though fierce in Armes.
Thal.
Fierce War, with us, does ever make abode,
Which frights away, that little lazy God,
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To fair soft Bosoms, and to wanton eyes:
The noyse of Trumpets, from us drives him far,
He still delights, in peace, no business has, in War.
Eume.
But yet, your Women, deal with love, and peace,
Our Capadocians, help them to increase.
Thal.
I blush to hear it, tho Confess it true,
Our Women, heretofore, have met with you,
Nature, not love, did to this Rigour bind,
They only sought you, to preserve their Kind:
To what the Law of Nature, does Ordain,
They have submitted, tho with grief, and pain,
But I, that evil Custom, so abhor,
My Subjects I'le Command, to use't no more,
And e're I'le stoop, to do a thing so base,
I'le be the last, of our illustrious Race:
Since, without men, there can no issue be,
Our glorious Empire, shall have end in me.
Eume.
Rather, fair Queen, the Laws, of love, obey,
They teach a gentler, and more noble way:
To Compass your Desires, and men subdue,
At once, to make us Slaves, and Victors too,
O'recome us, Madam, with your natural Charms,
Let us fall, by your eyes, not by your Arms.
For Woman Man, for Man was Woman made,
Each was Created, for the others aid:
Then, whilst you live, without us Men, so long,
You the Divinity of love, and Nature wrong,
Lay now aside, at length, of men, your Hate,
And let, each Woman, choose a loving Mate,
Your Empire, that way, shall continued be,
And you, your beauteous self, increas'd shall see.
Thal.
Eumenes this is Treason, 'gainst our State,
Which will not love inspire, but move my hate.
Eume.
In what I can, Madam, I will obey,
So I may love, do you prescribe the Way,
Thal.
If I should now, to let you love, consent,
It shall be only, for your punishment:
Love then,—but look, for nothing, but disdain,
Love without hope, to be belov'd again.
Exit cum suis.
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Her Soul is marble, and she cann't be mov'd,
She cannot love, nor will she be belov'd.
Her Heart is steel, loves form, it will not take,
Love there, tho sharp, can no impression make.
But I must love, tho I still love in vain,
Tho without hope, and answerd with disdain:
With Constancy, I will her love pursue,
Who knows, but Constancy, may her subdue,
That in her Breast, at last, may love imprint,
And make more soft, that Heart, which now is flint.
[Exit.
The SCENE A Prison.
Enter Roxana.
Roxa.
I am affraid, the Lightning, of his eyes,
Will pierce my Breast, and my soft Heart, surprise.
How hard a thing, it is to break, love's Chain,
And not to think, that pleasure, which is pain.
But love, no longer, shall my Soul infest,
I with revengeful Rage, have arm'd my Breast.
Since, with disdain, he did my love deny,
I will the pleasure have, to make him die.
This is the Way—
The Scene opens, and discovers Orontes bound in Chains.
Speak now Orontes, e're it be too late,
Will you have life, with love, or Death, with Hate?
Your Fate, does now, depend on your own Breath,
In your own Choice, is either life, or Death.
Oron.
He were unworthy, of Statiras love,
Who would for fear, of Death, unconstant prove.
As, for her sake, I'de be content to live,
Draws a dagger out of her sleev.
So for her, willingly, I death receive.
Roxa.
Then Death I bring—Disdainful man: stand fair,
This, from thy Breast, Statira's Form shall tare.
Incens'd, I will a merciless Tyrant prove,
And Stab that Heart, will not admit my love.
I'le laugh, with joy, to see thy life expire,
And with thy Blood, I'le quench thy amorous fire.
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Strike boldly then—play well, the Tyrants part,
You'l find, an easie way, to my unguarded Heart.
Except my Queen, nothing that's here beneath,
Appears, so welcome, to me, now, as Death:
For since my Fate, does her I love deny,
advances with her Dagger.
With joy I fall, and with Content, I die.
Roxa.
Then thus, Orontes, I will end our strife,
This blow, shall cut my love off, and thy life.
What trembling's this, has seiz'd my Heart, and Arm?
There's magick in his Looks, in's Eyes a Charm.
[aside.
I find, I cannot my Intents pursue,
I feel, some kind of foolish pitty too.
I'ave thought on't now—It shall be soe—
Oron.
What now Roxana? Delay tortures me.
The Death you bring, to me, does pleasant seem,
'Twill wake me, from a sad, unquiet Dream:
It will give ease, to my afflicted mind,
And make me think, in this last Act, you'r Kind.
Roxa.
Nay, Sir, since you, unwilling are to live,
I will, to punish you, grant a Reprieve.
You shan't find pleasure, in that Death I bring,
Death, is not Death, unless it has a sting.
Some other way, I'le satisfie my hate,
Your Eyes, shall first behold, my Rivals Fate,
For since her Life, you, to your own, prefer,
Before thou dy'st I'le kill thee, first, in her.
[going out
Oron.
Stay, Tyrant stay, be not so inhumane,
Will you not kill, unless you kill, with pain?
If by my scorn, I merit your Revenge,
Act not your hatred, in a way so strange.
Kill the offender, do not spare his blood,
But murther not the Innocent, and good.
Roxa.
If she be good, she fitter is to die.
Oron.
And does no pitty in your Bosome lie?
Roxa.
Let pitty, and good Nature dwell elsewhere,
I have more strong, and violent Passions there.
Oron.
Can then no Prayers, your great wrath, asswage?
Roxa.
No more, than they can still, the Oceans Rage.
The great Concern, you for my Rival show,
Does but the more provoke, to speed the blow.
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To save her life, what is't I would not do?
Yet cann't perform, what is requir'd by you.
I cann't put out, loves great, and sacred fire,
The Gods can only quench, what they inspire.
Some other way propose—
Roxa.
In Vain, Orontes, now, to me you sue,
For I have learn't, how to deny, by you.
You say, I things impossible require,
And yet, the same, you now of me desire.
If to save her, you cann't your love subdue,
Hate's not less strong in me, than love in you.
That says, you must, to this Decree submit,
To see Statira slain, or her for ever quit,
Oron.
The choice is hard, Roxana—Let her live
And all thy Injuries, I will forgive.
My Hate of thee, I'le from my Breast remove,
And that is more, than half the way, to love.
Roxa.
To hear him thus intreat, I dare not stay,
My passion will, at last, it self betray.
[aside
I will no longer trifle thus, with you,
You know my will, and what you have to do.
Think on't—I but a little Time will give,
To make your choice, if she shall die, or live.
[Exit
Oron.
As men, in storms, a sinking Barque, to free,
Are forc'd to fling their wealth, into the Sea.
To save Statira's life, I now must quit,
My constant love, and the rich joys of it.
But Earth, as soon, may from it's Centre move,
As I can force my self, to leave my love.
Nor can I let her die—no, no, in vain
Roxana thinks, to keep me with this Chain,
No cruel Queen, from all thy Tyrannie,
And from these Chains, Death soon shall set me free.
The scene Closes
| The Siege of Babylon | |