Written by the Honourable Sir IOHN DENHAM Knight of the Bath.

LONDON, Printed for H. Herringman at the Sign of the Blew-Anchor in the Lower-Walk of the New-Exchange. 1668.

To the King.


AFter the delivery of your Royal Father's Person into the hands of the Army, I undertaking to the Queen Mother, that I would find some means to get access to him, she was pleased to send me, and by the help of Hugh Peters I got my admittance, and coming well instructed from the Queen (his Majesty having been long kept in the dark) he was pleased to discourse very freely with me of the whole state of his Affairs: But Sir, I will not lanch into a History, instead of an Epistle. One morning waiting on him at Causham, smiling upon me, he said he could tell me some news of my self, which was that he had seen some Verses of mine the evening before (be­ing those to Sir R. Fanshaw) and asking me when I made them, I told him two or three [Page] years since; he was pleased to say, that having never seen them before, He was afraid I had written them since my return into England, and though he liked them well, he would advise me to write no more, alleging, that when men are young, and have little else to do, they might vent the overflowings of their Fancy that way, but when they were thought fit for more serious Employments, if they still persisted in that course, it would look, as if they minded not the way to any better.

Whereupon I stood corrected as long as I had the honour to wait upon him, and at his departure from Hampton Court, he was pleased to command me to stay privately at London, to send to him and receive from him all his Letters from and to all his Corre­spondents at home and abroad, and I was fur­nisht with nine several Cyphers in order to it: Which trust I performed with great safety to the persons with whom we corresponded; but about nine months after being discover­ed by their knowledge of Mr. Cowleys hand, [Page] I happily escaped both for my self, and those that held correspondence with me; that time was too hot and busie for such idle speculati­ons, but after I had the good fortune to wait upon your Majesty in Holland and France, you were pleased sometimes to give me argu­ments to divert and put off the evil hours of our banishment, which now and then fell not short of your Majesties expectation.

After, when your Majesty departing from St. Germayns to Jersey, was pleased freely (without my asking) to confer upon me that place wherein I have now the honour to serve you, I then gave over Poetical lines, and made it my business to draw such others às might be more serviceable to your Maje­sty, and I hope more lasting. Since that time I never disobeyed my old Masters com­mands till this Summer at the Wells, my retirement there tempting me to divert those melancholy thoughts, which the new apparitions of Forreign invasion, and dome­stick discontent gave us: But these clouds being now happily blown over, and our Sun [Page] cleerly shining out again, I have recovered the relapse, it being suspected that it would have proved the Epidemical disease of age, which is apt to fall back into the follies in youth, yet Socrates, Aristotle, and Cato did the same, and Scaliger saith that Frag­ment of Aristotle, was beyond any thing that Pindar or Homer ever wrote. I will not call this a Dedication, for those Epistles are commonly greater absurdities than any that come after, for what Author can reaso­nably believe, that fixing the great name of some eminent Patron in the forehead of his book can charm away censure, and that the first leafe should be a curtain to draw over and hide all the deformities that stand be­hind it? neither have I any need of such shifts, for most of the parts of this body have already had Your, Majesties view, and having past the Test of so cleer and sharp-sighted a Iudgment, which has as good a Title to give Law in Matters of this Nature as in any other, they who shall pre­sume to dissent from Your Majesty, will do [Page] more wrong to their own Iudgment, then their Iudgment can do to me: And for those latter Parts which have not yet recei­ved Your Majesties favourable Aspect, if they who have seen them do not flatter me, (for I dare not trust my own Iudgment) they will make it appear, that it is not with me as with most of mankind, who never forsake their darling vices, till their vices forsake them; and that this Divorce was not Frigiditatis causâ, but an Act of Choice, and not of Necessity. Therefore, Sir, I shall only call it an humble Petition, that Your Majesty will please to pardon this new amour to my old Mistress, and my disobedience to his Commands, to whose memory I look up with great Reverence and Devotion, and making a serious reflection upon that wise Advice, it carries much greater weight with it now, than when it was given, for when age and experience has so ripened mans discretion as to make it fit for use, either in private or publick Affairs, nothing blasts and corrupts the fruit of it so much as the empty, airy [Page] reputation of being Nimis Poeta, and there­fore I shall take my leave of the Muses, as two of my Predecessors did, saying

Splendidis longum vale dico nugis,
Hic versus & caetera ludicra pono.
Your Majesties most faithful and loyal Subject, and most dutiful and devoted servant Io. Denham.


  • COopers Hill. 1
  • The Destruction of Troy, an Essay on the second Book of Virgil's Aeneis. 31
  • On the Earl of Strafford's Tryal and Death. 65
  • On my Lord Crost's and my Iourney into Poland, from whence we brought 10000l. for his Majesty by the Decima­tion of his Scottish Subjects there. 67
  • On Mr. Tho. Killigrew's return from his Embassie from Ve­nice, and Mr. William Murry's from Scotland. 70
  • To Sir John Mennis, being invited from Calice to Bologne to eat a Pig. 73
  • Natura Naturata. 76
  • Sarpedon's Speech to Glaucus in the 12. of Homer. 78
  • Martial. Epigram. Out of an Epigram of Martial. 80
  • Friendship and single life against Love and Marriage. 82
  • On Mr. Abraham Cowley his death and burial amongst the Ancient Poets. 89
  • A Speech against Peace at the Close Committee. 95
  • To the five Members of the honourable House of Commons.
  • The Humble Petition of the Poets. 101
  • A Western Wonder. 105
  • A second Western Wonder. 107
  • News from Colchester, or, A proper new Ballad of certain Carnal passages betwixt a Quaker and a Colt, at Horsly near Colchester in Essex. 109
  • A Song. 115
  • On Mr. John Fletchers Works. 116
  • To Sir Richard Fanshaw upon his Translation of Pastor Fido. 119
  • [Page] A Dialogue between Sir John Pooley and Mr. Thomas Killigrew. 122
  • An occasional imitation of a modern Author upon the Game of Chess. 126
  • The Passion of Dido for Aeneas. 128
  • Of Prudence. 147
  • Of Iustice. 163
  • The Progress of Learning. 172
  • The Sophy, a Tragedy.

Coopers Hill.

SUre there are Poets which did never dream
Upon Parnassus, nor did tast the stream
Of Helicon, we therefore may suppose
Those made not Poets, but the Poets those,
And as Courts make not Kings, but Kings the Court,
So where the Muses & their train resort,
Parnassus stands; if I can be to thee
A Poet, thou Parnassus art to me.
[Page 2] Nor wonder, if (advantag'd in my flight,
By taking wing from thy auspicious height)
Through untrac't ways, and aery paths I fly,
More boundless in my Fancy than my eie:
My eye, which swift as thought contracts the space
That lies between, and first salutes the place
Crown'd with that sacred pile, so vast, so high,
That whether 'tis a part of Earth, or sky,
Uncertain seems, and may be thought a proud
Aspiring mountain, or descending cloud,
M. W.
the late theme of such a Muse whose flight
Has bravely reach't and soar'd above thy height:
Now shalt thou stand though sword, or time, or fire,
Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall conspire,
Secure, whilst thee the best of Poets sings,
Preserv'd from ruine by the best of Kings.
[Page 3] Under his proud survey the City lies,
And like a mist beneath a hill doth rise;
Whose state and wealth the business and the crowd,
Seems at this distance but a darker cloud:
And is to him who rightly things esteems,
No other in effect than what it seems:
Where, with like hast, though several ways, they run
Some to undo, and some to be undone;
While luxury, and wealth, like war and peace,
Are each the others ruine, and increase;
As Rivers lost in Seas some secret vein
Thence reconveighs, there to be lost again.
Oh happiness of sweet retir'd content!
To be at once secure, and innocent.
Windsor the next (where Mars with Venus dwells.
Beauty with strength) above the Valley swells
[Page 4] Into my eye, and doth it self present
With such an easie and unforc't ascent,
That no stupendious precipice denies
Access, no horror turns away our eyes:
But such a Rise, as doth at once invite
A pleasure, and a reverence from the sight.
Thy mighty Masters Embleme, in whose face
Sate meekness, heightned with Majestick Grace
Such seems thy gentle height, made only proud
To be the basis of that pompous load,
Than which, a nobler weight no Mountain bears,
But Atlas only that supports the Sphears.
When Natures hand this ground did thus ad­vance,
'Twas guided by a wiser power than Chance;
Mark't out for such a use, as if 'twere meant
T' invite the builder, and his choice prevent.
Nor can we call it choice, when what we chuse,
Folly, or blindness only could refuse.
[Page 5] A Crown of such Majestick towrs doth Grace
The Gods great Mother, when her heavenly race
Do homage to her, yet she cannot boast
Amongst that numerous, and Celestial host,
More Hero's than can Windsor, nor doth Fames
Immortal book record more noble names.
Not to look back so far, to whom this Isle
Owes the first Glory of so brave a pile,
Whether to Caesar, Albanact, or Brute,
The Brittish Arthur, or the Danish Knute,
(Though this of old no less contest did move,
Then when for Homers birth seven Cities strove)
(Like him in birth, thou should'st be like in fame'
As thine his fate, if mine had been his Flame)
But whosoere it was, Nature design'd
First a brave place, and then as brave a mind.
Not to recount those several Kings, to whom
It gave a Cradle, or to whom a Tombe,
[Page 6] But thee (great Edward) and thy grea­ter son,
Edward the third, and the Black Prince.
(The lillies which his Father wore, he won)
And thy Bellona,
Queen Philip.
who the Consort came
Not only to thy Bed, but to thy Fame,
She to thy Triumph led one Captive King,
The Kings of France and Scotland.
And brought that son, which did the second bring.
Then didst thou found that Order (whither love
Or victory thy Royal thoughts did move)
Each was a noble cause, and nothing less,
Than the design, has been the great success:
Which forraign Kings, and Emperors esteem
The second honour to their Diadem.
Had thy great Destiny but given thee skill,
To know as well, as power to act her will,
[Page 7] That from those Kings, who then thy captives were,
In after-times should spring a Royal pair
Who should possess all that thy mighty power,
Or thy desires more mighty, did devour;
To whom their better Fate reserves what ere
The Victor hopes for, or the Vanquisht fear;
That bloud, which thou and thy great Grandsire shed,
And all that since these sister Nations bled,
Had been unspilt, had happy Edward known
That all the bloud he spilt, had been his own.
When he that Patron chose, in whom are joyn'd
Souldier and Martyr, and his arms confin'd
Within the Azure Circle, he did seem
But to foretell, and prophesie of him,
Who to his Realms that Azure round hath joyn'd,
Which Nature for their bound at first design'd.
That bound, which to the Worlds extreamest ends,
Endless it self, its liquid arms extends;
[Page 8] Nor doth he need those Emblemes which we (paint,
But is himself the Souldier and the Saint.
Here should my wonder dwell, & here my praise,
But my fixt thoughts my wandring eye betrays,
Viewing a neighbouring hill, whose top of late
A Chappel crown'd, till in the Common Fate,
The adjoyning Abby fell: (may no such storm
Fall on our times, where ruine must reform.)
Tell me (my Muse) what monstrous dire offence,
What crime could any Christian King incense
To such a rage? was't Luxury, or Lust?
Was he so temperate, so chast, so just?
Were these their crimes? they were his own much more:
But wealth is Crime enough to him that's poor,
Who having spent the Treasures of his Crown,
Condemns their Luxury to feed his own.
And yet this Act, to varnish o're the shame
Of sacriledge, must bear devotions name.
[Page 9] No Crime so bold, but would be understood
A real, or at least a seeming good.
Who fears not to do ill, yet fears the Name,
And free from Conscience, is a slave to Fame.
Thus he the Church at once protects, & spoils:
But Princes swords are sharper than their stiles.
And thus to th' ages past he makes amends,
Their Charity destroys, their Faith defends.
Then did Religion in a lazy Cell,
In empty, airy contemplations dwell;
And like the block, unmoved lay: but ours,
As much too active, like the stork devours.
Is there no temperate Region can be known,
Betwixt their Frigid, and our Torrid Zone?
Could we not wake from that Lethargick dream,
But to be restless in a worse extream?
And for that Lethargy was there no cure,
But to be cast into a Calenture?
[Page 10] Can knowledge have no bound, but must ad­vance
So far, to make us wish for ignorance?
And rather in the dark to grope our way,
Than led by a false guide to erre by day?
Who sees these dismal heaps, but would demand
What barbarous Invader sackt the land?
But when he hears, no Goth, no Turk did bring
This desolation, but a Christian King;
When nothing, but the Name of Zeal, appears
'Twixt our best actions and the worst of theirs,
What does he think our Sacriledge would spare,
When such th' effects of our devotions are?
Parting from thence 'twixt anger, shame, & fear,
Those for whats past, & this for whats too near:
My eye descending from the Hill, surveys
Where Thames
amongst the wanton vallies strays.
Thames, the most lov'd of all the Oceans sons,
By his old Sire to his embraces runs,
[Page 11] Hasting to pay his tribute to the Sea,
Like mortal life to meet Eternity.
Though with those streams he no resemblance hold,
Whose foam is Amber, and their Gravel Gold;
His genuine, and less guilty wealth t' explore,
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore;
Ore which he kindly spreads his spacious wing,
And hatches plenty for th' ensuing Spring.
Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay,
Like Mothers which their Infants overlay.
Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave,
Like profuse Kings, resumes the wealth he gave.
No unexpected inundations spoyl
The mowers hopes, nor mock the plowmans toyl:
But God-like his unwearied Bounty flows;
First loves to do, then loves the Good he does.
Nor are his Blessings to his banks confin'd,
But free, and common, as the Sea or Wind;
[Page 12] When he to boast, or to disperse his stores
Full of the tributes of his grateful shores,
Visits the world, and in his flying towers
Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours;
Finds wealth where 'tis, bestows it where it wants
Cities in deserts, woods in Cities plants.
So that to us no thing, no place is strange,
While his fair bosom is the worlds exchange.
O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
My great example, as it is my theme!
Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull,
Strong without rage, without ore-flowing full.
Heaven her Eridanus no more shall boast,
Whose Fame in thine, like lesser Currents lost,
Thy Nobler streams shall visit Iove's aboads,
To shine amongst the Stars, and bath the Gods,
The Forrest.
Here Nature, whether more intent to please
Us or her self, with strange varieties,
[Page 13] (For things of wonder give no less delight
To the wise Maker's, than beholders sight.
Though these delights from several causes move
For so our children, thus our friends we love)
Wisely she knew, the harmony of things,
As well as that of sounds, from discords springs.
Such was the discord, which did first disperse
Form, order, beauty through the Universe;
While driness moysture, coldness heat resists,
All that we have, and that we are, subsists.
While the steep horrid roughness of the Wood
Strives with the gentle calmness of the flood.
Such huge extreams when Nature doth unite,
Wonder from thence results, from thence delight
The stream is so transparent, pure, and clear,
That had the self-enamour'd youth
gaz'd here,
So fatally deceiv'd he had not been,
While he the bottom, not his face had seen.
[Page 14] But his proud head the aery Mountain hides
Among the Clouds; his shoulders, and his sides
A shady mantle cloaths; his curled brows
Frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows,
While winds and storms his lofty forehead beat:
The common fate of all that's high or great.
Low at his foot a spacious plain is plac't,
Between the mountain and the stream embrac't:
Which shade and shelter from the Hill derives,
While the kind river wealth and beauty gives;
And in the mixture of all these appears
Variety, which all the rest indears.
This scene had some bold Greek, or Brittish Bard
Beheld of old, what stories had we heard,
Of Fairies, Satyrs, and the Nymphs their Dames,
Their feasts, their revels, & their amorous flames
'Tis still the same, although their aery shape
All but a quick Poetick sight escape.
[Page 15] There Faunus and Sylvanus keep their Courts,
And thither all the horned hoast resorts,
To graze the ranker mead, that noble heard
On whose sublime and shady fronts is rear'd
Natures great Master-piece; to shew how soon
Great things are made, but sooner are undone.
Here have I seen the King, when great affairs
Give leave to slacken, and unbend his cares,
Attended to the Chase by all the flower
Of youth, whose hopes a Nobler prey devour:
Pleasure with Praise, & danger, they would buy,
And wish a foe that would not only fly.
The stagg now conscious of his fatal Growth,
At once indulgent to his fear and sloth,
To some dark covert his retreat had made,
Where nor mans eye, nor heavens should invade
His soft repose; when th' unexpected sound
Of dogs, and men, his wakeful ear doth wound.
[Page 16] Rouz'd with the noise, he scarce believes his ear,
Willing to think th' illusions of his fear
Had given this false Alarm, but straight his view
Confirme, that more than all he fears is true.
Betray'd in all his strengths, the wood beset,
All instruments, all Arts of ruine met;
He calls to mind his strength, and then his speed,
His winged heels, and then his armed head;
With these t'avoid, with that his Fate to meet:
But fear prevails, and bids him trust his feet.
So fast he flyes, that his reviewing eye
Has lost the chasers, and his ear the cry;
Exulting, till he finds, their Nobler sense
Their disproportion'd speed does recompense.
Then curses his conspiring feet, whose scent
Betrays that safety which their swiftness lent.
Then tries his friends, among the baser herd,
Where he so lately was obey'd, and fear'd,
[Page 27] His safety seeks: the herd, unkindly wise,
Or chases him from thence, or from him flies.
Like a declining States-man, left forlorn
To his friends pity, and pursuers scorn,
With shame remembers, while himself was one
Of the same herd, himself the same had done.
Thence to the coverts, & the conscious Groves,
The scenes of his past triumphs, and his loves;
Sadly surveying where he rang'd alone
Prince of the soyl, and all the herd his own;
And like a bold Knight Errant did proclaim
Combat to all, and bore away the Dame;
And taught the woods to eccho to the stream
His dreadful challenge, and his clashing beam.
Yet faintly now declines the fatal strife;
So much his love was dearer than his life.
Now every leaf, and every moving breath
Presents a foe, and every foe a death.
[Page 18] Wearied, forsaken, and pursu'd, at last
All safety in despair of safety plac'd,
Courage he thence resumes, resolv'd to bear
All their assaults, since 'tis in vain to fear.
And now too late he wishes for the fight
That strength he wasted in Ignoble flight:
But when he sees the eager chase renew'd,
Himself by dogs, the dogs by men pursu'd:
He straight revokes his bold resolve, and more
Repents his courage, than his fear before;
Finds that uncertain waies unsafest are,
And Doubt a greater mischief than Despair.
Then to the stream, when neither friends, nor force,
Nor speed, nor Art avail, he shapes his course;
Thinks not their rage so desperate t' assay
An Element more merciless than they.
[Page 19] But fearless they pursue, nor can the floud
Quench their dire thirst; alas, they thirst for bloud.
So towards a Ship the oarefin'd Gallies ply,
Which wanting Sea to ride, or wind to fly,
Stands but to fall reveng'd on those that dare
Tempt the last fury of extream despair.
So fares the Stagg among th' enraged Hounds,
Repels their force, and wounds returns for wounds.
And as a Hero, whom his baser foes
In troops surround, now these assails, now those,
Though prodigal of life, disdains to die
By common hands; but if he can descry
Some nobler foes approach, to him he calls,
And begs his Fate, and then contented falls.
So when the King a mortal shaft lets fly
From his unerring hand, then glad to dy,
[Page 20] Proud of the wound, to it resigns his bloud,
And stains the Crystal with a Purple floud.
This a more Innocent, and happy chase,
Than when of old, but in the self-same place,
Fair liberty pursu'd,
Runny Mead where that great Charter was first sealed.
and meant a Prey
To lawless power, here turn'd, and stood at bay.
When in that remedy all hope was plac't
Which was, or should have been at least, the last.
Here was that Charter seal'd,
Magna Charta.
wherein the Crown
All marks of Arbitrary power lays down:
Tyrant and slave, those names of hate and fear,
The happier stile of King and Subject bear:
Happy, when both to the same Center move,
When Kings give liberty, and Subjects love.
Therefore not long in force this Charter stood;
Wanting that seal, it must be seal'd in bloud.
[Page 21] The Subjects arm'd, the more their Princes gave,
Th' advantage only took the more to crave.
Till Kings by giving, give themselves away,
And even that power, that should deny, betray.
Who gives constrain'd, but his own fear reviles
Not thank't, but scorn'd; nor are they gifts, but spoils.
Thus Kings, by grasping more than they could hold,
First made their Subjects by oppression bold:
And popular sway, by forcing Kings to give
More than was fit for Subjects to receive,
Ran to the same extreams; and one excess
Made both, by striving to be greater, less.
When a calm River rais'd with sudden rains,
Or Snows dissolv'd, oreflows th' adjoyning Plains,
The Husbandmen with high-rais'd banks secure
Their greedy hopes, and this he cau endure.
[Page 22] But if with Bays and Dams they strive to force
His channel to a new, or narrow course;
No longer then within his banks he dwells,
First to a Torrent, then a Deluge swells:
Stronger, and fiercer by testraint he roars,
And knows no bound, but makes his power his shores.


Written in the Year 1636.

LONDON, Printed by I. M. for H. Herringman at the Sign of the Blew Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1667.


THere are so few Translations which deserve praise, that I scarce ever saw any which deserv'd pardon; those who travel in that kind, be­ing for the most part so unhappy, as to rob others, without enriching themselves, pulling down the fame of good Authors, without raising their own: Neither hath any Author been more hardly dealt with­al than this our Master; and the reason is evident, for, what is most excellent, is most inimitable; and if even the worst [Page] thors are yet made worse by their Tran­slators, how impossible is it not to do great injury to the best? And therefore I have not the vanity to think my Copy e­qual to the Original, nor (consequently) my self altogether guiltless of what I ac­cuse others; but if I can do Virgil less in­jury than others have done, it will be, in some degree to do him right; and indeed, the hope of doing him more right, is the only scope of this Essay, by opening this new way of translating this Author, to those whom youth, leisure, and better for­tune makes fitter for such undertakings.

I conceive it a vulgar error in transla­ting Poets, to affect being Fidus Inter­pres; let that care be with them who deal in matters of Fact, or matters of Faith: but whosoever aims at it in Poetry, as he attempts what is not required, so he shall never perform what he attempts; for it is not his busines alone to translate Language into Language, but Poesie into Poesie; & Po­esie [Page] is of so subtile a spirit, that in pouring out of one Language into another, it will all evaporate; and if a new spirit be not added in the transfusion, there will re­main nothing but a Caput mortuum, there being certain Graces and Happinesses pe­culiar to every Language, which gives life and energy to the words; and whosoever offers at Verbal Translation, shall have the misfortune of that young Traveller, who lost his own language abroad, and brought home no other instead of it: for the grace of the Latine will be lost by being turned into English words; and the grace of the English, by being turned into the Latine Phrase. And as speech is the apparel of our thoughts, so are there certain Garbs and Modes of speaking, which vary with the times; the fashion of our clothes be­ing not more subject to alteration, than that of our speech: and this I think Taci­tus means, by that which he calls Sermo­nem temporis istius auribus accommodatum; the delight of change being as due to the [Page] curiosity of the ear, as of the eye; and therefore if Virgil must needs speak Eng­lish, it were fit he should speak not only as a man of this Nation, but as a man of this age; and if this disguise I have put upon him (I wish I could give it a better name) sit not naturally and easily on so grave a person, yet it may become him better than that Fools-Coat wherein the French and Italian have of late presented him; at least, I hope, it will not make him appear deformed, by making any part enormously bigger or less than the life, (I having made it my principal care to fol­low him, as he made it his to follow Na­ture in all his proportions) Neither have I any where offered such violence to his sense, as to make it seem mine, and not his. Where my expressions are not so full as his, either our Language, or my Art were defective (but I rather suspect my self;) but where mine are fuller than his, they are but the impressions which the often reading of him, hath left upon my [Page] thoughts; so that if they are not his own Conceptions, they are at least the results of them; and if (being conscious of ma­king him speak worse than he did almost in every line) I erre in endeavouring sometimes to make him speak better; I hope it will be judged an error on the right hand, and such an one as may deserve pardon, if not imitation.


THe first Book speaking of Aeneas his voyage by Sea, and how being cast by tempest upon the coast of Carthage, he was received by Queen Dido, who after the Feast, desires him to make the relation of the destruction of Troy, which is the Ar­gument of this Book.

[Page 31]THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY, An Essay on the Second BOOK of Virgil's Aeneis.

WHile all with silence & attention wait,
Thus speaks Aeneas from the bed of State
Madam, when you command us to review anew
Our Fate, you make our old wounds bleed
And all those sorrows to my sence restore,
Whereof none saw so much, none suffer'd more:
[Page 32] Not the most cruel of Our conqu'ring Foes
So unconcern'dly can relate our woes,
As not to lend a tear, Then how can I
Repress the horror of my thoughts, which fly
The sad remembrance? Now th' expiring night
And the declining Stars to rest invite;
Yet since 'tis your command, what you, so well
Are pleas'd to hear, I cannot grieve to tell.
By Fate repell'd, and with repulses tyr'd,
The Greeks, so many Lives and years expir'd,
A Fabrick like a moving Mountain frame,
Pretending vows for their return; This, Fame
Divulges, then within the beasts vast womb
The choice and flower of all their Troops in-tomb,
In view the Isle of Tenedos, once high
In fame and wealth, while Troy remain'd, doth lie,
(Now but an unsecure and open Bay)
Thither by stealth the Greeks their Fleet con­vey:
[Page 33] We gave them gone, and to Mycenae sail'd,
And Troy reviv'd, her mourning face unvail'd;
All through th' unguarded Gates with joy resort
To see the slighetd Camp, the vacant Port;
Here lay Vlysses, there Achilles, here
The Battels joyn'd, the Grecian Fleet rode there;
But the vast Pile th' amazed vulgar views
Till they their Reason in their wonder lose;
And first Tymaetes moves, (urg'd by the Power
Of Fate, or Fraud) to place it in the Tower,
But Capis and the graver sort thought fit,
The Greeks suspected Present to commit
To Seas or Flames, at least to search and bore
The sides, & what that space contains t' explore;
Th' uncertain Multitude with both engag'd,
Divided stands, till from the Tower, enrag'd
Laocoon ran, whom all the crowd attends,
Crying, what desperat Frenzy's this? (oh friends)
[Page 34] To think them gone? Judge rather their retreat
But a design, their gifts but a deceit,
For our Destruction 'twas contriv'd no doubt,
Or from within by fraud, or from without
By force; yet know ye not Vlysses shifts?
Their swords less danger carry than their gifts.
(This said) against the Horses side, his spear
He throws, which trembles with inclosed fear,
Whilst from the hollows of his womb proceed
Groans, not his own; And had not Fate decreed
Our Ruine, We had fill'd with Grecian blood
The Place, Then Troy and Priam's Throne had stood;
Mean while a fetter'd pris'ner to the King
With joyful shouts the Dardan Shepherds bring,
Who to betray us did himself betray,
At once the Taker, and at once the Prey,
Firmly prepar'd, of one Event secur'd,
Or of his Death or his Design assur'd.
[Page 35] The Trojan Youth about the Captive flock,
To wonder, or to pity, or to mock.
Now hear the Grecian fraud, and from this one
Conjecture all the rest.
Disarm'd, disorder'd, casting round his eyes
On all the Troops that guarded him, he cries,
What Land, what Sea, for me what Fate attends?
Caught by my Foes, condemned by my Friends,
Incensed Troy a wretched Captive seeks
To sacrifice, a Fugitive, the Greeks,
To Pity, This Complaint our former Rage,
Converts, we now enquire his Parentage,
What of their Councils, or affairs he knew,
Then fearless, he replies, Great King to you
All truth I shall relate: Nor first can I
My self to be of Grecian birth deny,
And though my outward state, misfortune hath
Deprest thus low, it cannot reach my Faith.
[Page 36] You may by chance have heard the famous name
Of Palimede, who from old Belus came,
Whom, but for voting Peace, the Greeks pursue,
Accus'd unjustly, then unjustly slew,
Yet mourn'd his death. My Father was his friend,
And me to his commands did recommend,
While Laws and Councils did his Throne sup­port,
I but a youth, yet some Esteem and Port
We then did bear, till by Vlysses craft
(Things known I speak) he was of life bereft:
Since in dark sorrow I my days did spend,
Till now disdaining his unworthy end
I could not silence my Complaints, but vow'd
Revenge, if ever fate or chance allow'd
My wisht return to Greece; from hence his hate,
From thence my crimes, and all my ills bear date:
[Page 37] Old guilt fresh malice gives; The peoples ears
He fills with rumors, and their hearts with fears'
And then the Prophet to his party drew.
But why do I these thankless truths pursue;
Or why defer your Rage? on me, for all
The Greeks, let your revenging fury fall.
Vlysses this, th' Atridae this desire
At any rate. We streight are set on fire
(Unpractis'd in such Mysteries) to enquire
The manner and the cause, Which thus he told
With gestures humble, as his Tale was bold.
Oft have the Greeks (the siege detesting) tyr'd
With tedious war, a stoln retreat desir'd,
And would to heaven they had gone: But still dismay'd
By Seas or Skies, unwillingly they stay'd,
Chiefly when this stupendious Pile was rais'd
Strange noises fill'd the Air, we all amaz'd
[Page 38] Dispatch Eurypilus to enquire our Fates
Who thus the sentence of the Gods relates,
A Virgins slaughter did the storm appease
When first towards Troy the Grecians took the Seas,
Their safe retreat another Grecians blood
Must purchase; All, at this confounded stood.
Each thinks himself the Man, the fear on all
Of what, the mischief, but on one can fall:
Then Calchas (by Vlysses first inspir'd)
Was urg'd to name whom th' angry Gods re­quir'd,
Yet was I warn'd (for many were as well
Inspir'd as he) and did my fate foretel.
Ten days the Prophet in suspence remain'd,
Would no mans fate pronounce; at last con­strain'd
By Ithacus, he solemnly design'd
Me for the Sacrifice; the people joyn'd
[Page 39] In glad consent, and all their common fear
Determine in my fate, the day drew near;
The sacred Rites prepar'd, my temples crown'd
With holy wreaths, Then I confess I found
The means to my escape, my bonds I brake,
Fled from my Guards, and in a muddy Lake
Amongst the Sedges all the night lay hid,
Till they their Sails had hoist (if so they did)
And now alas no hope remains for me
My home, my father and my sons to see,
Whom, they enrag'd, will kill for my Offence,
And punish for my guilt their Innocence.
Those Gods who know the Truths I now relate,
That faith which yet remains inviolate
By mortal men, By these I beg, redress
My causless wrongs, and pity such distress.
And now true Pity in exchange he finds
For his false Tears, his Tongue, his hands un­binds.
[Page 40] Then spake the King, be Ours who ere thou art,
Forget the Greeks. But first the truth impart,
Why did they raise, or to what use intend
This Pile? to a Warlike, or Religious end?
Skilful in fraud, (his native Art) his hands
Toward heaven he rais'd, deliver'd now from bands.
Ye pure Aethereal flames, ye Powers ador'd
By mortal men, ye Altars, and the sword
I scap'd; ye sacred Fillets that involv'd
My destin'd head, grant I may stand absolv'd
From all their Laws and Rites, renounce all name
Of faith or love, their secret thoughts proclaim;
Only O Troy, preserve thy faith to me,
If what I shall relate preserveth thee.
From Pallas favour, all our hopes, and all
Counsels, and Actions took Original,
[Page 41] Till Diomed (for such attempts made fit
By dire conjunction with Vlysses wit)
Assails the sacred Tower, the Guards they slay,
Defile with bloudy hands, and thence convey
The fatal Image; straight with our success
Our hopes fell back, whilst prodigies express
Her just disdain, her flaming eyes did throw
Flashes of lightning, from each part did flow
A briny sweat, thrice brandishing her spear,
Her Statue from the ground it self did rear;
Then, that we should our Sacrilege restore
And reconveigh their Gods from Argos shore,
Chalcas perswades, till then we urge in vain
The fate of Troy. To measure back the Main
They all consent, but to return agen,
When re-inforc'd with aids of Gods and men.
Thus Chalcas, then instead of that, this Pile
To Pallas was design'd; to reconcile
[Page 42] Th' offended Power, and expiate our guilt,
To this vast height and monstrous stature built
Lest through your gates receiv'd, it might renew
Your vows to her, and her Defence to you.
But if this sacred gift you dis-esteem,
Then cruel Plagues (which heaven divert on them)
Shall fall on Priams State: but if the horse
Your walls ascend, assisted by your force,
A League 'gainst Greece all Asia shall contract;
Our Sons then suffering what their Sires would act.
Thus by his fraud and our own faith o'recome,
A feigned tear destroys us, against whom
Tydides nor Achilles could prevail,
Nor ten years conflict, nor a thousand sail.
This seconded by a most sad Portent
Which credit to the first imposture lent;
[Page 43] Laocoon, Neptunes Priest, upon the day
Devoted to that God, a Bull did slay,
When two prodigious serpents were descride,
Whose circling stroaks the Seas smooth face di­vide;
Above the deep they raise their scaly Crests,
And stem he floud with their erected brests,
Their winding tails advance and steer their course,
And 'gainst the shore the breaking Billow force.
Now landing, from their brandisht tongues there came
A dreadful hiss, and from their eyes a flame:
Amaz'd wesly, directly in a line
Laocoon they pursue, and first intwine
(Each preying upon one) his tender sons,
Then him, who armed to their rescue runs,
[Page 44] They seiz'd, and with intangling folds em­brac'd
His neck twice compassing, and twice his wast,
Their poys'nous knots he strives to break, and tear,
Whilst slime and bloud his sacred wreaths be­smear,
Then loudly roars, as when th' enraged Bull
From th' Altar flies, and from his wounded skull
Shakes the huge Ax; the conqu'ring serpents fly
To cruel Pallas Altar, and there ly
Under her feet, within her shields extent;
We in our fears conclude this fate was sent
Justly on him, who struck the Sacred Oak
With his accursed Lance. Then to invoke
The Goddess, and let in the fatal horse
We all consent:
A spacious breach we make, & Troys proud wall
Built by the Gods, by our own hands doth fall;
[Page 45] Thus, all their help to their own ruine give,
Some draw with cords, and some the Monster drive
With Rolls and Leavers, thus our works it climbs,
Big with our fate, the youth with Songs and Rhimes,
Some dance, some hale the Rope; at last let down
It enters with a thundering noise the Town.
Oh Troy the seat of Gods, in war renown'd;
Three times it stuck, as oft the clashing sound
Of Arms was heard, yet blinded by the Power
Of Fate, we place it in the sacred Tower.
Cassandra then foretels th' event, but she
Finds no belief (such was the Gods decree.)
The Altars with fresh flowers we crown, & wast
In Feasts▪ that day, which was (alas) our last.
[Page 46] Now by the revolution of the Skies,
Nights sable shadows from the Ocean rise,
Which heaven and earth, and the Greek frauds involv'd,
The City in secure repose dissolv'd,
When from the Admirals high Poop appears
A light, by which the Argive Squadron Steers
Their silent course to Iliums well known Shore,
When Synon (sav'd by the Gods partial power)
Opens the horse, and through the unlockt doors
To the free Ayr the armed fraight restores:
Vlysses, Stenelus, Tysander slide
Down by a Rope, Machaon was their guide;
Atrides, Pyrrhus, Thoas, Athamas,
And Epeus who the frauds contriver was,
The Gates they seize, the Guards with sleep and wine
Opprest, surprize, and then their forces joyn.
'Twas then, when the first sweets of sleep repair
Our bodies spent with toil, our minds with care
[Page 47] (The Gods best gift) When bath'd in tears and blood
Before my face lamenting Hector stood,
Such his aspect when soyl'd with bloudy dust
Dragg'd by the cords which through his feet were thrust
By his insulting Foe; O how transform'd!
How much unlike that Hector who return'd
Clad in Achilles spoyls; when he, among
A thousand ships (like Iove) his Lightning flung;
His horrid Beard and knotted Tresses stood
Stiff with his gore, & all his wounds ran blood,
Intranc'd I lay, then (weeping) said, The Joy,
The hope and stay of thy declining Troy;
What Region held thee, whence, so much desir'd,
Art thou restor'd to us consum'd and tir'd
With toyls and deaths; but what sad cause con­founds
Thy once fair looks, or why appear those wounds?
[Page 48] Regardless of my words, he no reply
Returns, but with a dreadful groan doth cry,
Fly from the Flame, O Goddess-born, our walls
The Greeks possess, and Troy confounded falls
From all her Glories; if it might have stood
By any Power, by this right hand it should.
What Man could do, by me for Troy was done,
Take here her Reliques and her Gods, to run
With them thy Fate, with them new Walls ex­pect,
Which, tost on Seas, thou shalt at last erect;
Then brings old Vesta from her sacred Quire,
Her holy Wreaths, and her eternal Fire.
Mean while the Walls with doubtful cries re­sound
From far (for shady coverts did surround
My Fathers house) approaching still more near
The clash of Arms, and voice of men we hear:
[Page 49] Rowz'd from my Bed, I speedily ascend
The house's top, and listning there attend,
As flames rowl'd by the winds conspiring force,
Ore full-ear'd Corn, or Torrents raging course
Bears down th' opposing Oaks, the fields de­stroys
And mocks the Plough-mans toil, th' unlookt for noise
From neighb'ring hills, th' amazed Shepherd hears;
Such my surprise, and such their rage appears,
First fell thy house Vcalegon, then thine
Deiphobus, Sigaean Seas did shine
Bright with Troys flames, the Trumpets dread­ful sound,
The louder groans of dying men confound.
Give me my arms, I cry'd, resolv'd to throw
My self 'mongst any that oppos'd the Foe:
[Page 50] Rage, anger, and Despair at once suggest
That of all Deaths, to die in Arms was best.
The first I met was Panthus, Phoebus Priest,
Who scaping with his Gods and Reliques fled,
And towards the shore his little Grandchild led;
Panthus, what hope remains? what force? what place
Made good? but sighing, he replies (alas)
Trojans we were, and mighty Ilium was;
But the last period and the fatal hour
Of Troy is come: Our Glory and our Power
Incensed Iove transfers to Grecian hands,
The foe within, the burning Town commands;
And (like a smother'd fire) an unseen force
Breaks from the bowels of the fatal Horse:
Insulting Synon flings about the flame,
And thousands more than e're from Argos came
[Page 51] Possess the Gates, the Passes and the Streets,
And these the sword oretakes, & those it meets,
The Guard nor fights nor flies, Their fate so near
At once suspends their Courage and their Fear.
Thus by the Gods, and by Otrides words
Inspir'd, I make my way through fire, through swords,
Where Noises, Tumults, Out-cries and Alarms
I heard, first Iphitus renown'd for Arms
We meet, who knew us (for the Moon did shine)
Then Ripheus, Hippanis and Dymas joyn
Their force, and young Choraebus Mygdons son,
Who, by the Love of fair Cassandra, won,
Arriv'd but lately in her Fathers Ayd
Unhappy, whom the Threats could not dis­swade
Of his Prophetick Spouse;
[Page 52] Whom, when I saw, yet daring to maintain
The fight, I said, Brave Spirits (but in vain)
Are you resolv'd to follow one who dares
Tempt all extreams? The state of Our affairs
You see: The Gods have left us, by whose aid
Our Empire stood; nor can the flame be staid:
Then let us fall amidst Our Foes; this one
Relief the vanquisht have, to hope for none.
Then re-inforc'd, as in a stormy night
Wolves urged by their raging appetite
Forrage for prey, which their neglected young
With greedy jaws expect, ev'n so among
Foes, Fire and Swords, t' assured death we pass▪
Darkness our Guide, Despair our Leader was.
Who can relate that Evenings woes and spoils,
Or can his tears proportion to our Toils!
The City, which so long had flourisht, falls;
Death triumphs o're the Houses, Temples, Wall
[Page 53] Nor only on the Trojans fell this doom,
Their hearts at last the vanquish'd re-assume;
And now the Victors fall, on all sides, fears,
Groans and pale Death in all her shapes appears:
Androgeus first with his whole Troop was cast
Upon us, with civility misplac't;
Thus greeting us you lose by your delay,
Your share both of the honour and the prey,
Others the spoils of burning Troy convey
Back to those ships, which you but now forsake▪
We making no return; his sad mistake
Too late he finds: As when an unseen Snake
A Travellers unwary foot hath prest,
Who trembling starts, when the Snakes azure Crest,
Swoln with his rising Anger, he espies,
So from our view surpriz'd Androgeus
[Page 54] But here an easie victory we meet:
Fear binds their hands, and ignorance their feet,
Whilst Fortune, our first Enterprize, did aid,
Encourag'd with success, Choraebus said,
O Friends, we now by better Fates are led,
And the fair Path they lead us, let us dread.
First change your Arms, and their distinctions bear;
The same, in foes, Deceit and Vertue are.
Then of his Arms, Androgeus he divests,
His Sword, his Shield he takes, and plumed
Then Ripheus, Dymas, and the rest, All glad
Of the occasion, in fresh spoils are clad.
Thus mixt, with Greeks, as if their Fortune still
Follow'd their swords, we fight, pursue, and kill.
Some re-ascend the Horse, and he whose sides
Let forth the valiant, now, the Coward hides.
[Page 55] Some, to their safer Guard, their Ships, retire;
But vain's that hope, 'gainst which the Gods conspire:
Behold the Royal Virgin, The Divine
Cassandra, from Minerva's fatal shrine
Dragg'd by the hair, casting tow'rds heaven in vain,
Her Eyes; for Cords her tender hands did strain:
Choraebus at the spectacle enrag'd,
Flies in amidst the foes: we thus engag'd,
To second him, amongst the thickest ran;
Here first our ruine from our friends began,
Who from the Temples Battlements a shower
Of Darts and Arrows on our heads did powr:
They, us for Greeks, and now the Greeks (who knew
Cassandra's rescue) us for Trojans slew.
Then from all parts Vlysses, Ajax, then,
And then th' Atridae rally all their men;
[Page 56] As winds, that meet from several Coasts, contest,
Their prisons being broke, the South and West,
And Eurus on his winged Coursers born
Triumphing in their speed, the woods are torn,
And chasing Nereus with his Trident throws
The billows from their bottom; Then all those
Who in the dark our fury did escape,
Returning, know our borrowed Arms and shape
And diff'ring Dialect: Then their numbers swell
And grow upon us; first Choraebus fell
Before Minerva's Altar, next did bleed
Just Ripheus, whom no Trojan did exceed
In virtue, yet the Gods his fate decreed.
Then Hippanis and Dymas wounded by
Their friends; nor thee Panthus thy Piety,
Nor consecrated Mitre, from the same
Ill fate could save; My Countreys funeral flame
[Page 57] And Troys cold ashes I attest, and call
To witness for my self, That in their fall
No Foes, no Death, nor Danger I declin'd
Did, and deserv'd no less, my Fate to find.
Now Iphitus with me, and Pelias
Slowly retire, the one retarded was
By feeble Age, the other by a wound,
To Court the Cry directs us, where We found
Th' Assault so hot, as if 'twere only there,
And all the rest secure from foes or fear:
The Greeks the Gates approach'd, their Tar­gest cast,
Over their heads, some scaling ladders plac't
Against the walls, the rest the steps ascend,
And with their shields on their left Arms de­fend
Arrows and darts, and with their right hold fast
The Battlement; on them the Trojans cast
[Page 58] Stones, Rafters, Pillars, Beams, such Arms as these,
Now hopeless, for their last defence they seize.
The gilded Roofs, the marks of ancient state
They tumble down, and now against the Gate
Of th' Inner Court their growing force they bring,
Now was Our last effort to save the King.
Relieve the fainting, and succeed the dead.
A Private Gallery 'twixt th' appartments led,
Not to the Foe yet known, or not observ'd,
(The way for Hectors hapless Wife reserv'd,
When to the aged King, her little son
She would present) Through this we pass and run
Up to the highest Battlement, from whence
The Trojans threw their darts without offence.
A Tower so high, it seem'd to reach the sky,
Stood on the Roof, fram whence we could de­scry
[Page 59] All Ilium—both the Camps, the Grecian Fleet;
This, where the Beams upon the Columns meet,
We loosen, which like Thunder from the Cloud
Breaks on their heads, as sudden and as loud.
But others still succeed: mean time, nor stones
Nor any kind of weapons cease.
Before the Gate in gilded Armour, shone
Young Pyrrhus, like a Snake his skin new grown,
Who fed on poys'nous herbs, all winter lay
Under the ground, and now reviews the day
Fresh in his new apparel, proud and young,
Rowls up his Back, and brandishes his tongue,
And lifts his scaly breast against the Sun;
With him his Fathers Squire, Antomedon
And Periphas who drove his winged steeds,
Enter the Court; whom all the youth succeeds
Of Scyros Isle, who flamlng firebrands flung
Up to the roof, Pyrrhus himself among
[Page 60] The formost with an Axe an entrance hews
Through beams of solid Oak, then freely views
The Chambers, Galleries, and Rooms of State,
Where Priam and the ancient Monarchs sate.
At the first Gate an Armed Guard appears;
But th' Inner Court with horror, noise and tears
Confus'dly fill'd, the womens shrieks and cries
The Arched Vaults re-eccho to the skies;
Sad Matrons wandring through the spacious Rooms
Embrace and kiss the Posts: Then Pyrrhus comes
Full of his Father, neither Men nor Walls
His force sustain, the torn Port-cullis falls,
Then from the hinge, their strokes the Gates divorce,
And where the way they cannot find, they force.
Not with such rage a Swelling Torrent flows
[Page 61] Above his banks, th' opposing Dams orethrows,
Depopulates the Fields, the Cattel, Sheep,
Shepherds, and folds the foaming Surges sweep.
And now between two sad extreams I stood,
Here Pyrrhus and th' Atridae drunk with blood,
There th' hapless Queen amongst an hundred Dames,
And Priam quenching from his wounds those flames
Which his own hands had on the Altar laid:
Then they the secret Cabinets invade,
Where stood the Fifty Nuptial Beds, the hopes
Of that great Race, the Golden Posts whose tops
Old hostile spoils adorn'd, demolisht lay,
Or to the foe, or to the fire a Prey.
Now Priams fate perhaps you may enquire,
Seeing his Empire lost, his Troy on fire,
And his own Palace by the Greeks possest,
Arms, long disus'd, his trembling limbs invest;
[Page 62] Thus on his foes he throws himself alone,
Not for their Fate, but to provoke his own:
There stood an Altar open to the view
Of Heaven, near which an aged Lawrel grew,
Whose shady arms the houshold Gods embrac'd;
Before whose feet the Queen her self had cast,
With all her daughters, and the Trojan wives,
As Doves whom an approaching tempest drives
And frights into one flock; But having spy'd
Old Priam clad in youthful Arms, she cry'd,
Alas my wretched husband, what pretence
To bear those Arms, and in them what defence?
Such aid such times require not, when again
If Hector were alive, he liv'd in vain;
Or here We shall a Sanctuary find,
Or as in life, we shall in death be joyn'd.
Then weeping, with kind force held & embrac'd
And on the sacred seat the King she plac'd;
[Page 63] Mean while Polites one of Priams sons
Flying the rage of bloudy Pyrrhus, runs
Through foes & swords, & ranges all the Court
And empty Galleries, amaz'd and hurt,
Pyrrhus pursues him, now oretakes, now kills,
And his last blood in Priams presence spills.
The King (though him so many deaths inclose)
Nor fear, nor grief, but Indignation shows;
The Gods requite thee (if within the care
Of those alone th' affairs of mortals are)
Whose fury on the son but lost had been,
Had not his Parents Eyes his murder seen:
Not That Achilles (whom thou feign'st to be
Thy Father) so inhumane was to me;
He blusht, when I the rights of Arms implor'd;
To me my Hector, me to Troy restor'd:
This said, his feeble Arm a Javelin flung,
Which on the sounding shield, scarce entring, rung.
[Page 64] Then Pyrrhus; go a messenger to Hell
Of my black deeds, and to my Father tell
The Acts of his degenerate Race. So through
His Sons warm bloud, the trembling King he drew
To th' Altar; in his hair one hand he wreaths;
His sword, the other in his bosom sheaths.
Thus fell the King, who yet surviv'd the State,
With such a signal and peculiar Fate.
Under so vast a ruine not a Grave,
Nor in such flames a funeral fire to have:
He, whom such Titles swell'd, such Power made proud
To whom the Scepters of all Asia bow'd,
On the cold earth lies th' unregarded King,
A headless Carkass, and a nameless Thing.

On the Earl of Strafford's Tryal and Death.

GReat Strafford! worthy of that Name, though all
Of thee could be forgotten, but thy fall,
Crusht by Imaginary Treasons weight,
Which too much Merit did accumulate:
As Chymists Gold from Brass by fire would draw,
Pretexts are into Treason forg'd by Law.
His Wisdom such, at once it did appear
Three Kingdoms wonder, and three Kingdoms fear;
Whilst single he stood forth, and seem'd, al­though
Each had an Army, as an equal Foe.
[Page 66] Such was his force of Eloquence, to make
The Hearers more concern'd than he that spake;
Each seem'd to act that part, he came to see,
And none was more a looker on than he:
So did he move our passion, some were known
To wish for the defence, the Crime their own.
Now private pity strove with publick hate,
Reason with Rage, and Eloquence with Fate:
Now they could him, if he could them forgive;
He's not too guilty, but too wise to live;
Less seem those Facts which Treasons Nick-name bore,
Than such a fear'd ability for more.
They after death their fears of him express.
His Innocence, and their own guilt confess.
Their Legislative Frenzy they repent;
Enacting it should make no President.
This Fate he could have scap'd, but would not lose
Honour for Life, but rather nobly chose
[Page 67] Death from their fears, then safety from his own,
That his last Action all the rest might crown.

On my Lord Croft's and my Iourney into Poland, from whence we brought 10000 l. for his Ma­jesty by the Decimation of his Scottish Subjects there.

TOle, tole,
Gentle Bell, for the Soul
Of the pure ones in Pole,
Which are damned in our Scroul;
Who having felt a touch
Of Cockram's greedy Clutch,
Which though it was not much,
Yet their stubbornness was such,
That when we did arrive,
'Gainst the stream we did strive;
They would neither lead, nor drive:
Nor lend
An Ear to a Friend,
Nor an answer would send
To our Letter so well penn'd.
Nor assist our affairs,
With their Monies nor their Wares,
As their answer now declares,
But only with their Prayers.
Thus they did persist,
Did and said what they list,
Till the Dyet was dismist;
But then our Breech they kist.
For when
It was mov'd there and then
They should pay one in ten,
The Dyet said Amen.
And because they are loth
To discover the troth,
They must give word and Oath,
Though they will forfeit both.
Thus the Constitution
Condemns them every one,
From the Father to the Son.
But Iohn
(Our Friend) Mollesson,
Thought us to have out-gone
With a quaint Invention.
Like the Prophets of yore,
He complain'd long before,
Of the Mischiefs in store,
I, and thrice as much more.
And with that wicked Lye
A Letter they came by,
From our Kings Majesty.
But Fate
Brought the Letter too late,
'Twas of too old a date,
To relieve their damned State.
The Letter's to be seen,
With seal of Wax so green,
At Dantzige, where t' as been
Turn'd into good Latin.
But he that gave the hint,
This Letter for to Print,
Must also pay his stint.
That trick,
Had it come in the Nick,
Had touch'd us to the quick,
But the Messenger fell sick.
Had it later been wrought;
And sooner been brought,
They had got what they sought,
But now it serves for nought.
On Sandys they ran aground,
Mr. W.
And our return was crown'd
With full ten thousand pound.

On Mr. Tho. Killigrew's Return from his Em­bassie from Venice, and Mr. William Murry's from Scotland.

OUr Resident Tom,
From Venice is come,
And hath left the Statesman behind him;
Talks at the same pitch,
Is as wise, is as rich,
And just where you left him, you find him.
But who says he was not,
A man of much Plot,
[Page 71] May repent that false Accusation;
Having plotted and penn'd
Six plays to attend
The Farce of his Negotiation.
Before you were told
How Satan the old
Mr. W. Murrey.
Came here with a Beard to his middle;
Though he chang'd face and name,
Old Will was the same,
At the noise of a Can and a Fiddle.
These Statesmen you believe
Send straight for the Sheriffe,
For he is one too, or would be;
But he drinks no Wine,
Which is a shrewd sign
That all's not so well as it should be.
These three when they drink,
How little do they think
Of Banishment, Debts, or dying?
Not old with their years,
Nor cold with their fears;
But their angry Stars still defying.
Mirth makes them not mad,
Nor Sobriety sad;
But of that they are seldom in danger:
At Paris, at Rome,
At the Hague they are at home;
The good Fellow is no where a stranger.

To Sir John Mennis being invited from Calice to Bologne to eat a Pig.

ALL on a weeping Monday,
With a fat Bulgarian Sloven,
Little Admiral Iohn
To Bologne is gone
Whom I think they call old Loven.
Hadst thou not thy fill of Carting
With Aubrey Count of Oxon!
We three riding in a Cart from Dun­kirk to Calice with a fat Dutch Woman who broke wind all along.
When Nose lay in Breech
And Breech made a Speech,
So often cry'd a Pox on.
A Knight by Land and Water
Esteem'd at such a high rate,
[Page 74] When 'tis told in Kent,
In a Cart that he went,
They'll say now hang him Pirate.
Thou might'st have ta'ne example,
From what thou read'st in story;
Being as worthy to sit
On an ambling Tit,
As thy Predecessor Dory.
But Oh! the roof of Linnen,
Intended for a shelter!
But the Rain made an Ass
Of Tilt of Canvas;
And the Snow which you know is a Melter.
But with thee to inveigle,
That tender stripling, Astcot
[Page 75] Who was soak'd to the skin,
Through Drugget so thin,
Having neither Coat, nor Wastcoat;
He being proudly mounted,
Clad in Cloak of Plymouth,
Defy'd Cart so base,
For Thief without Grace,
That goes to make a wry-mouth.
Nor did he like the Omen,
For fear it might be his doom,
One day for to sing,
With Gullet in string,
A Hymne of Robert Wisdom.
But what was all this business?
For sure it was important:
[Page 76] For who rides i'th' wet,
When affairs are not great,
The neighbors make but a sport on't.
To a goodly fat Sow's Baby,
O Iohn, thou had'st a malice,
The old driver of Swine
That day sure was thine,
Or thou hadst not quitted Calice.

Natura Naturata.

WHat gives us that Fantastick Fit,
That all our Judgment and our Wit
To vulgar custom we submit?
Treason, Theft, Murther, all the rest
Of that foul Legion we so detest,
Are in their proper names exprest.
Why is it then sought sin or shame,
Those necessary parts to name,
[Page 77] From whence we went, and whence we came?
Nature, what ere she wants, requires;
With Love enflaming our desires,
Finds Engines fit to quench those fires:
Death she abhors; yet when men die,
We are present; but no stander by
Looks on when we that loss supply:
Forbidden Wares sell twice as dear;
Even Sack prohibited last year,
A most abominable rate did bear.
Tis plain our eyes and ears are nice,
Only to raise by that device,
Of those Commodities the price.
Thus Reason's shadows us betray
By Tropes and Figures led astray,
From Nature, both her Guide and way.

Sarpedon's Speech to Glaucus in the 12th of Homer.
Thus to Glaucus spake

DIvine Sarpedon, since he did not find
Others as great in Place, as great in Mind.
Above the rest, why is our Pomp, our Power?
Our flocks, our herds, and our possessions more?
Why all the Tributes Land and Sea affords
Heap'd in great Chargers, load our sumptuous boards?
Our chearful Guests carowse the sparkling tears
Of the rich Grape, whilst Musick charms their ears.
Why as we pass, do those on Xanthus shore,
As Gods behold us, and as Gods adore?
But that as well in danger, as degree,
We stand the first; that when our Lycians see
[Page 79] Our brave examples, they admiring say,
Behold our Gallant Leaders! These are They
Deserve the Greatness; and un-envied stand:
Since what they act, transcends what they com­mand.
Could the declining of this Fate (oh friend)
Our Date to Immortality extend?
Or if Death sought not them, who seek not Death,
Would I advance? Or should my vainer breath
With such a Glorious Folly thee inspire?
But since with Fortune Nature doth conspire,
Since Age, Disease, or some less noble End,
Though not less certain, doth our days attend;
Since 'tis decreed, and to this period lead,
A thousand ways the noblest path we'll tread;
And bravely on, till they, or we, or all,
A common Sacrifice to Honour fall.

Martial. Epigram.
Out of an Epigram of Martial.

PRithee die and set me free,
Or else be
Kind and brisk, and gay like me;
I pretend not to the wise ones,
To the grave, to the grave,
Or the precise ones.
Tis not Cheeks, nor Lips nor Eyes,
That I prize,
Quick Conceits, or sharp Replies,
If wise thou wilt appear, and knowing,
Repartie, Repartie
To what I'm doing.
Prithee why the Room so dark?
Not a Spark
Left to light me to the mark;
I love day-light and a candle,
And to see, and to see,
As well as handle.
Why so many Bolts and Locks,
Coats and Smocks,
And those Drawers with a Pox?
I could wish, could Nature make it,
Nakedness, Nakedness
It self were naked.
But if a Mistress I must have,
Wise and grave,
Let her so her self behave
All the day long susan Civil,
Pap by night, pap by night
Or such a Divel.

Friendship and single life against Love and Marriage.

LOve! in what poyson is thy Dart
Dipt, when it makes a bleeding heart?
None know, but they who feel the smart.
It is not thou, but we are blind,
And our corporeal eyes (we find)
Dazle the Opticks of our Mind.
Love to our Cittadel resorts,
Through those deceitful Sally-ports,
Our Sentinels betray our Forts.
What subtle Witchcraft man constrains,
To change his Pleasures into Pains,
And all his freedom into Chains?
May not a Prison, or a Grave
Like Wedlock, Honour's title have?
That word makes Free-born man a Slave.
How happy he that loves not, lives!
Him neither Hope nor Fear deceives,
To Fortune who no Hostage gives.
How unconcern'd in things to come!
If here uneasie, finds at Rome,
At Paris, or Madrid his Home.
Secure from low, and private Ends,
His Life, his Zeal, his Wealth attends
His Prince, his Country, and his Friends.
Danger, and Honour are his Joy;
But a fond Wife, or wanton Boy,
May all those Generous Thoughts destroy.
Then he lays by the publick Care,
Thinks of providing for an Heir;
Learns how to get, and how to spare.
Nor fire, nor foe, nor fate, nor night,
The Trojan Hero did affright,
Who bravely twice renew'd the fight.
Though still his foes in number grew,
Thicker their Darts, and Arrows flew,
Yet left alone, no fear he knew.
But Death in all her forms appears,
From every thing he sees and hears,
For whom he leads, and whom he bears.
His Father and Son.
Love making all things else his Foes,
Like a fierce torrent overflows
Whatever doth his course oppose.
This was the cause the Poets sung,
Thy Mother from the Sea was sprung;
But they were mad to make thee young.
Her Father, not her Son, art thou:
From our desires our actions grow;
And from the Cause the Effect must flow.
Love is as old as place or time;
'Twas he the fatal Tree did climb,
Grandsire of Father Adam's crime.
Well mayst thou keep this world in awe,
Religion, Wisdom, Honour, Law,
The tyrant in his triumph draw.
'Tis he commands the Powers above;
Phoebus resigns his Darts, and Iove
His Thunder to the God of Love.
To him doth his feign'd Mother yield,
Nor Mars (her Champions) flaming shield
Guards him, when Cupid takes the Field.
He clips hopes wings, whose aery bliss
Much higher than fruition is;
But less than nothing, if it miss.
When matches Love alone projects,
The Cause transcending the Effects,
That wild-fire's quencht in cold neglects.
Whilst those Conjunctions prove the best,
Where Love's of blindness dispossest,
By perspectives of Interest.
Though Solomon with a thousand wives,
To get a wise Successor strives,
But one (and he a Fool) survives.
Old Rome of Children took no care,
They with their Friends their beds did share,
Secure, t'adopt a hopeful Heir.
Love drowsie days, and stormy nights
Makes, and breaks Friendship, whose delights
Feed, but not glut our Appetites.
Well chosen Friendship, the most noble
Of Vertues, all our joys makes double,
And into halves divides our trouble.
But when the unlucky knot we tye,
Care, Avarice, Fear, and Jealousie
Make Friendship languish till it dye.
The Wolf, the Lyon, and the Bear
When they their prey in pieces tear,
To quarrel with themselves forbear.
Yet timerous Deer, and harmless Sheep
When Love into their veins doth creep,
That law of Nature cease to keep.
Who then can blame the Amorous Boy,
Who the Fair Helen to enjoy,
To quench his own, set fire on Troy?
Such is the worlds preposterous fate,
Amongst all Creatures, mortal hate
Love (though immortal) doth Create.
But Love may Beasts excuse, for they
Their actions not by Reason sway,
But their brute appetites obey.
But Man's that Savage Beast, whose mind
From Reason to self-Love declin'd,
Delights to prey upon his Kind.

ON Mr ABRAHAM COWLEY His Death and Burial amongst the Ancient Poets.

OLd Chaucer, like the morning Star,
To us discovers day from far,
His light those Mists and Clouds dissolv'd,
Which our dark Nation long involv'd;
But he descending to the shades,
Darkness again the Age invades.
Next (like Aurora) Spencer rose,
Whose purple blush the day foreshows;
The other three, with his own fires,
Phoebus, the Poets God, inspires;
By Shakespear's, Iohnson's, Fletcher's lines,
Our Stages lustre Romes's outshines:
[Page 90] These Poets neer our Princes sleep,
And in one Grave their Mansion keep;
They liv'd to see so many days,
Till time had blasted all their Bays:
But cursed be the fatal hour
That pluckt the fairest, sweetest flower
That in the Muses Garden grew,
And amongst wither'd Lawrels threw.
Time, which made them their Fame outlive,
To Cowly scarce did ripeness give.
Old Mother Wit, and Nature gave
Shakespear and Fletcher all they have;
In Spencer, and in Iohnson, Art,
Of flower Nature got the start;
But both in him so equal are,
None knows which bears the happy'st share;
To him no Author was unknown,
Yet what he wrote was all his own;
[Page 91] He melted not the ancient Gold,
Nor with Ben Iohnson did make bold
To plunder all the Roman stores
Of Poets, and of Orators:
Horace his wit, and Virgil's state,
He did not steal, but emulate,
And when he would like them appear,
Their Garb, but not their Cloaths, did wear:
He not from Rome alone, but Greece,
Like Iason brought the Golden Fleece;
To him that Language (though to none
Of th' others) as his own was known.
On a stiff gale (as Flaccus sings)
The Theban Swan extends his wings,
His Pin­daricks.
When through th' aetherial Clouds he flies,
To the same pitch our Swan doth rise;
Old Pindar's flights by him are reacht,
When on that gale his wings are stretcht;
[Page 92] His fancy and his judgment such,
Each to the other seem'd too much,
His severe judgment (giving Law)
His modest fancy kept in awe:
As rigid Husbands jealous are,
When they believe their Wives too fair.
His English stream so pure did flow,
As all that saw, and tasted, know▪
But for his Latin vein, so clear,
His last work.
full, and high it doth appear,
That were immortal Virgil here,
Him, for his judge, he would not fear;
Of that great Portraicture, so true
A Copy Pencil never drew.
My Muse her Song had ended here,
But both their Genii strait appear,
Joy and amazement her did strike,
Two Twins she never saw so like.
[Page 93] Twas taught by wise Pythagoras,
One Soul might through more Bodies pass;
Seeing such Transmigration here,
She thought it not a Fable there.
Such a resemblance of all parts,
Life, Death, Age, Fortune, Nature, Arts,
Then lights her Torch at theirs, to tell,
And shew the world this Parallel,
Fixt and contemplative their looks,
Still turning over Natures Books:
Their works chast, moral, and divine,
Where profit and delight combine;
They guilding dirt, in noble verse
Rustick Philosophy rehearse;
When Heroes, Gods, or God-like Kings
They praise, on their exalted wings,
To the Celestial orbs they climb,
And with the Harmonious sphears keep time;
[Page 94] Nor did their actions fall behind
Their words, but with like candour shin'd,
Each drew fair Characters, yet none
Of these they feign'd, excels their own;
Both by two generous Princes lov'd,
Who knew, and judg'd what they approv'd:
Yet having each the same desire,
Both from the busie throng retire,
Their Bodies to their Minds resign'd,
Car'd not to propagate their Kind:
Yet though both fell before their hour,
Time on their off-spring hath no power,
Nor fire, nor fate their Bays shall blast,
Nor Death's dark vail their day o'recast.

A Speech against Peace at the close Committee.

To the Tune of, I went from England.
BUt will you now to Peace incline,
And languish in the main design,
And leave us in the lurch?
I would not Monarchy destroy,
But only as the way to enjoy
The ruine of the Church.
Is not the Bishops Bill deny'd,
And we still threatned to be try'd?
You see the Kings embraces.
Those Councels he approv'd before:
Nor doth he promise, which is more,
That we shall have their Places.
Did I for this bring in the Scot?
(For 'tis no Secret now) the Plot
Was Sayes and mine together:
Did I for this return again,
And spend a Winter there in vain,
Once more to invite them hither?
Though more our Money than our Cause
Their Brotherly assistance draws,
My labour was not lost.
At my return I brought you thence
Necessity, their strong Pretence,
And these shall quit the cost.
Did I for this my County bring
To help their Knight against their King,
And raise the first Sedition?
Though I the business did decline,
Yet I contriv'd the whole Design,
And sent them their Petition.
So many nights spent in the City
In that invisible Committee;
The Wheel that governs all.
From thence the Change in Church and State,
And all the Mischiefs bear the date
From Haberdashers Hall.
Did we force Ireland to despair,
Upon the King to cast the War,
To make the world abhor him:
Because the Rebells us'd his Name,
Though we our selves can do the same,
While both alike were for him?
Then the same fire we kindled here
With that was given to quench it there,
And wisely lost that Nation:
To do as crafty Beggars use,
To maim themselves thereby to abuse
The simple mans compassion.
Have I so often past between
Windsor and Westminster unseen,
And did my self divide:
To keep his Excellence in awe,
And give the Parliament the Law,
For they knew none beside?
Did I for this take pains to teach
Our zealous Ignorants to Preach,
And did their Lungs inspire,
Gave them their Text, shew'd them their Parts,
And taught them all their little Arts,
To fling abroad the Fire?
Sometimes to beg, sometimes to threaten,
And say the Cavaliers are beaten,
To stroke the Peoples ears;
Then streight when Victory grows cheap,
And will no more advance the heap,
To raise the price of Fears.
And now the Book's and now the Bells,
And now our Act the Preachers tells,
To edifie the People;
All our Divinity is News,
And we have made of equal use
The Pulpit and the Steeple.
And shall we kindle all this Flame
Only to put it out again,
And must we now give o're,
And only end where we begun?
In vain this Mischief we have done,
If we can do no more.
If men in Peace can have their right,
Where's the necessity to fight,
That breaks both Law, the Oath?
They'l say they fight not for the Cause,
Nor to defend the King and Laws,
But as against them both.
Either the cause at first was ill,
Or being good it is so still;
And thence they will infer,
That either now, or at the first
They were deceiv'd; or which is worst,
That we our selves may erre.
But Plague and Famine will come in,
For they and we are near of kin,
And cannot go asunder:
But while the wicked starve, indeed
The Saints have ready at their need
Gods Providence and Plunder.
Princes we are if we prevail,
And Gallant Villains if we fail,
When to our Fame 'tis told;
It will not be our least of praise,
Sin' a new State we could not raise▪
To have destroy'd the old.
Then let us stay and fight, and vote,
Till London is not worth a Groat;
Oh 'tis a patient Beast!
When we have gall'd and tyr'd the Mule,
And can no longer have the rule,
We'le have the spoyl at least.

To the five Members of the Honourable House of Commons.
The Humble Petition of the POETS.

AFter so many Concurring Petitions
From all Ages and Sexes, and all conditions,
We come in the rear to present our Follies
To Pym, Stroude, Haslerig, H. and H.
Though set from of Prayer be an Abomination,
Set forms of Petitions find great Approbation:
[Page 102] Therefore, as others from th' bottom of their souls,
So we from the depth and bottom of our Bowls,
According unto the blessed form you have taught us,
We thank you first for the Ills you have brought us,
For the Good we receive we thank him that gave it,
And you for the Confidence only to crave it.
Next in course, we Complain of the great vio­lation
Of Priviledge (like the rest of our Nation)
But 'tis none of yours of which we have spoken
Which never had being, until they were broken▪
But ours is a Priviledge Antient and Native,
Hangs not on an Ordinance, or power Legislative.
And first, 'tis to speak whatever we please
Without fear of a Prison, or Pursuivants fees.
Next, that we only may lye by Authority,
But in that also you have got the Priority.
[Page 103] Next, an old Custom, our Fathers did name it
Poetical license, and alwaies did claim it.
By this we have power to change Age into Youth,
Turn Non-sence to Sence, and Falshood to Truth;
In brief, to make good whatsoever is faulty,
This art some Poet, or the Devil has taught ye:
And this our Property you have invaded,
And a Priviledge of both Houses have made it:
But that trust above all in Poets reposed,
That Kings by them only are made and De­posed,
This though you cannot do, yet you are willing;
But when we undertake Deposing or Killing,
They're Tyrants and Monsters, and yet then the Poet
Takes full Revenge on the Villains that do it:
[Page 104] And when we resume a Scepter or a Crown,
We are Modest, and seek not to make it our own.
But is't not presumption to write Verses to you,
Who make the better Poems of the two?
For all those pretty Knacks you compose,
Alas, what are they but Poems in prose?
And between those and ours there's no diffe­rence,
But that yours want the rhime, the wit and the sense:
But for lying (the most noble part of a Poet)
You have it abundantly, and your selves know it,
And though you are modest, and seem to abhor it,
'T has done you good service, and thank Hell for it:
Although the old Maxime remains still in force,
That a Sanctified Cause, must have a Sanctified Course.
[Page 105] If poverty be a part of our Trade,
So far the whole Kingdom Poets you have made,
Nay even so far as undoing will do it,
You have made King Charles himself a Poet:
But provoke not his Muse, for all the world knows,
Already you have had too much of his Profe.

A Western Wonder.

DO you not know, not a fortnight ago,
How they brag'd of a Western wonder?
When a hundred and ten, slew five thousand men,
With the help of Lightning and Thunder.
There Hopton was slain, again and again,
Or else my Author did lye;
With a new Thanksgiving, for the Dead who are living,
To God, and his Servant Chidleigh.
But now on which side was this Miracle try'd,
I hope we at last are even;
For Sir Ralph and his Knaves, are risen from their Graves,
To Cudge'l the Clowns of Devon.
And now Stamford came, for his Honour was lame
Of the Gout three months together;
But it prov'd when they fought, but a running Gout,
For his heels were lighter then ever.
For now he out-runs his Arms and his Guns,
And leaves all his money behind him;
But they follow after, unless he take water
At Plymouth again, they will find him.
What Reading hath cost, and Stamford hath lost,
Goes deep in the Sequestrations;
[Page 107] These wounds will not heal, with your new Great Seal,
Nor Iepsons Declarations.
Now Peters, and Case, in your Prayer and Grace
Remember the new Thanksgiving;
Isaac and his Wife, now dig for your life,
Or shortly you'l dig for your living.

A Second Western Wonder.

YOu heard of that wonder, of the Light­ning and Thunder,
Which made the lye so much the louder;
Now list to another, that Miracles Brother,
Which was done with a Firkin of powder.
Oh what a damp, struck through the Camp!
But as for honest Sir Ralph,
It blew him to the Vies, without beard, or eyes,
But at least three heads and a half.
When out came the book, which the News-Monger took
From the Preaching Ladies Letter,
Where in the first place, stood the Conquerours face,
Which made it shew much the better.
But now without lying, you may paint him flying,
At Bristol they say you may find him
Great William the Con so fast he did run,
That he left half his name behind him.
And now came the Post, saves all that was lost,
But alas, we are past deceiving,
By a trick so stale, or else such a tale
Might mount for a new Thanksgiving.
This made Mr. Case, with a pitiful face,
In the Pulpit to fall a weeping,
[Page 109] Though his mouth utter'd lyes, truth fell from his eyes,
Which kept the Lord Maior from sleeping.
Now shut up shops, and spend your last drops,
For the Laws of your Cause, you that loath 'um,
Lest Essex should start, and play the Second part,
Of Worshipful Sir Iohn Hotham.

News from Colchester.
Or, A Proper new Ballad of certain Carnal passages betwixt a Quaker and a Colt, at Horsly near Colchester in Essex.

To the Tune of, Tom of Bedlam.
ALL in the Land of Essex,
Near Colchester the Zealous,
[Page 110] On the side of a bank,
Was play'd such a Prank,
As would make a Stone-horse jealous.
Help Woodcock, Fox and Nailor,
For Brother Green's a Stallion,
Now alas what hope
Of converting the Pope,
When a Quaker turns Italian?
Even to our whole profession]
A scandal 'twill be counted,
When 'tis talkt with disdain
Amongst the Profane,
How brother Green was mounted.
And in the Good time of Christmas,
Which though our Saints have damn'd all,
[Page 111] Yet when did they hear
That a damn'd Cavalier
Ere play'd such a Christmas gambal?
Had thy flesh, O Green, been pamper'd
With any Cates unhallow'd,
Hadst thou sweetned thy Gums
With Pottage of Plums,
Or prophane minc'd Pie hadst swallow'd,
Roll'd up in wanton Swine's-flesh,
The Fiend might have crept into thee;
Then fullness of gut
Might have caus'd thee to rut,
And the Devil have so rid through thee.
But alas he had been feasted
With a Spiritual Collation,
[Page 112] By our frugal Mayor,
Who can dine on a Prayer,
And sup on an Exhortation.
'Twas meer impulse of Spirit,
Though he us'd the weapon carnal:
Filly Foal, quoth he,
My Bride thou shalt be:
And how this is lawful, learn all.
For if no respect of Persons
Be due 'mongst the Sons of Adam,
In a large extent,
Thereby may be meant
That a Mare's as good as a Madam.
Then without more Ceremony,
Not Bonnet vail'd, nor kist her,
[Page 113] But took her by force,
For better for worse,
And us'd her like a Sister.
Now when in such a Saddle
A Saint will needs be riding,
Though we dare not say
'Tis a falling away,
May there not be some back-sliding?
No surely, quoth Iames Naylor,
'Twas but an insurrection
Of the Carnal part,
For a Quaker in heart
Can never lose perfection.
For (as our Masters teach us)
The intent being well directed,
The Iesuites.
[Page 114] Though the Devil trepan
The Adamical man,
The Saint stands un-infected.
But alas a Pagan Jury
Ne're judges what's intended,
Then say what we can,
Brother Green's outward man
I fear will be suspended.
And our Adopted Sister
Will find no better quarter,
But when him we inroul
For a Saint, Filly Foal
Shall pass her self for a Martyr.
Rome that Spiritual Sodom,
No longer is thy debter,
[Page 115] O Colchester, now
Who's Sodom but thou,
Even according to the Letter?


SOmnus the humble God, that dwells
In cottages and smoaky cells,
Hates gilded roofs and beds of down;
And though he fears no Princes frown,
Flies from the circle of a Crown.
Come, I say, thou powerful God,
And thy Leaden charming Rod,
Dipt in the Lethaean Lake,
O're his wakeful temples shake,
Lest he should sleep and never wake.
Nature (alas) why art thou so
Obliged to thy greatest Foe?
Sleep that is thy best repast,
Yet of death it bears a taste,
And both are the same thing at last.

On Mr John Fletchers Works.

SO shall we joy, when all whom Beasts and Worms
Had turn'd to their own substances and forms,
Whom Earth to Earth, or Fire hath chang'd to Fire,
We shall behold more then at first entire;
As now we do, to see all thine thy own
In this thy Muses Resurrection,
Whose scatter'd parts, from thy own race, more wounds
Hath suffer'd, then Acteon from his Hounds;
[Page 117] Which first their Brains, and then their Bellie, fed,
And from their excrements new Poets bred.
But now thy Muse enraged from her Urn
Like Ghosts of Murdered bodies does return
T' accuse the Murderers, to right the Stage,
And undeceive the long abused Age,
Which casts thy praise on them, to whom thy wit
Gives not more Gold then they give dross to it:
Who not content like Felons to Purloyn,
Adde treason to it, and debase thy Coyn.
But whither am I straid? I need not raise
Trophies to thee from other mens dispraise;
Nor is thy Fame on lesser ruines built,
Nor needs thy juster Title the soul guilt
Of Eastern Kings, who to secure their reign,
Must have their Brothers, Sons, and Kindred slain.
[Page 118] Then was wits Empire at the Fatal height,
When labouring and sinking with its weight,
From thence a Thousand lesser Poets sprung
Like petty Princes▪ from the fall of Rome;
When Iohnson, Shakespear, and thy self did sit,
And sway'd in the triumvirate of wit—
Yet what from Iohnson's oyl and sweat did flow,
Or what more easie Nature did bestow
On Shakespear's gentler Muse, in thee full grown
Their graces both appear, yet so, that none
Can say here Nature ends, and Art begins,
But mixt like th' Elements and born like twins,
So interweav'd, so like, so much the same,
None, this meer Nature, that meer Art can name:
'Twas this the Antients mean't; Nature and Skill
Are the two tops of their Parnassus Hill.

To Sir Richard Fanshaw upon his Transla­tion of Pastor Fido.

SUch is our Pride, our Folly, or our Fate,
That few but such as cannot write, Translate.
But what in them is want of Art, or voice,
In thee is either Modesty or Choice.
Whiles this great piece, restor'd by thee doth stand
Free from the blemish of an Artless hand.
Secure of Fame, thou justly dost esteem
Less honour to create, than to redeem.
Nor ought a Genius less than his that writ,
Attempt Translation; for transplanted wit,
All the defects of air and soil doth share,
And colder brains like colder Climates are:
[Page 120] In vain they toil, since nothing can beget
A vital spirit, but a vital heat.
That servile path thou nobly dost decline
Of tracing word by word, and line by line.
Those are the labour'd births of slavish brains,
Not the effects of Poetry, but pains;
Cheap vulgar arts, whose narrowness affords
No flight for thoughts, but poorly sticks at words.
A new and nobler way thou dost pursue
To make Translations and Translators too.
They but preserve the Ashes, thou the Flame,
True to his sense, but truer to his fame.
Foording his current, where thou find'st it low
Let'st in thine own to make it rise and flow;
Wisely restoring whatsoever grace
It lost by change of Times, or Tongues, or Place.
[Page 121] Nor fetter'd to his Numbers, and his Times,
Betray'st his Musick to unhappy Rimes,
Nor are the nerves of his compacted strength
Stretch'd and dissolv'd into unsinnewed length:
Yet after all, (lest we should think it thine)
Thy spirit to his circle dost confine.
New names, new dressings, and the modern cast,
Some Scenes from persons alter'd, had out-fac'd
The world, it were thy work; for we have known
Some thank't and prais'd for what was less their own.
That Masters hand which to the life can trace
The airs, the lines, and features of a face,
May with a free and bolder stroke express
A varyed posture, or a flatt'ring Dress;
He could have made those like, who made the rest,
But that he knew his own design was best.

A Dialogue between Sir John Pooley and Mr. Thomas Killigrew.

TO thee dear Thom. my self addressing,
Most queremoniously confessing,
That I of late have been compressing.
Destitute of my wonted Gravity,
I perpetrated Arts of Pravity,
In a contagious Concavity.
Making efforts with all my Puissance,
For some Venereal Reiouissance,
I got (as one may say) a nuysance.
Come leave this fooling Cousin Pooley,
And in plain English tell us truely
Why under th' eyes you look so blewly?
'Tis not your hard words will avail you,
Your Latin and your Greek will fail you,
Till you speak plainly what doth ail you.
When young, you led a life Monastick,
And wore a Vest Ecclesiastick;
Now in your Age you grow Fantastick.
Without more Preface or Formality,
A Female of Malignant Quality
Set fire on Label of Mortality.
The Faeces of which Ulceration,
Brought o're the Helm a Distillation,
Through the Instrument of Propagation.
Then Cousin, (as I guess the matter)
You have been an old Fornicater,
And now are shot 'twixt wind and Water.
Your style has such an ill complexion,
That from your breath I fear infection,
That even your mouth needs an injection.
You that were once so oeconomick,
Quitting the thrifty style Laconick,
Turn Prodigal in Makeronick.
Yet be of comfort, I shall send a
Person of knowledge who can mend a
Disaster in your nether end-a—
Whether it Pullen be or Shanker,
Cordee and crooked like an Anchor,
Your cure too costs you but a spanker.
Or though your Piss be sharp as Razor,
Do but confer with Dr. Frazer,
Hee'l make your Running Nag a Pacer.
Nor shall you need your Silver quick Sir,
Take Mongo Murry's Black Elixir,
And in a week it Cures your P—Sir.
But you that are a Man of Learning,
So read in Virgil, so discerning,
Methinks towards fifty should take warning.
Once in a Pit you did miscarry,
Hunting near Paris he and his Horse fell into a Quarry
That danger might have made one wary;
This Pit is deeper then the Quarry.
Give me not such disconsolation,
Having now cur'd my Inflamation,
To Ulcerate my Reputation.
Though it may gain the Ladies favour,
Yet it may raise an evil savour
Upon all grave and staid behaviour.
And I will rub my Mater Pia,
To find a Rhyme to Gonorrheia,
And put it in my Letania.

An occasional Imitation of a Modern Author upon the Game of Chess.

A Tablet stood of that abstersive Tree,
Where Aethiops swarthy Bird did build her nest,
Inlaid it was with Lybian Ivory,
Drawn from the Jaws of Africks prudent beast
Two Kings like Saul, much Taller then the rest,
Their equal Armies draw into the Field;
Till one take th' other Prisoner they contest;
Courage and Fortune must to Conduct yield.
This Game the Persian Magi did invent,
The force of Eastern Wisdom to express;
From thence to busie Europaeans sent,
And styl'd by Modern Lombards pensive Chess.
Yet some that fled from Troy to Rome report,
Penthesilea Priam did oblige;
Her Amazons, his Trojans taught this sport,
To pass the tedious hours of ten years Siege.
There she presents her self, whilst King and Peers
Look gravely on whilst fierce Bellona fights;
Yet Maiden modesty her Motions steers,
Nor rudely skips o're Bishops heads like Knights.

The Passion of Dido for Aeneas.

HAving at large declar'd Ioves Ambassy,
Cyllenius from Aeneas straight doth flye;
He loth to disobey the Gods command,
Nor willing to forsake this pleasant Land,
Asham'd the kind Eliza to deceive,
But more afraid to take a solemn leave;
He many waies his labouring thoughts revolves,
But fear o're-coming shame, at last resolves
(Instructed by the God of Thieves) to steal
Himself away,
and his escape conceal.
He calls his Captains, bids them Rigg the Fleet,
That at the Port they privately should meet;
And some dissembled colour to project,
That Dido should not their design suspect;
But all in vain he did his Plot disguise:
No Art a watchful Lover can surprize.
[Page 129] She the first motion finds; Love though most sure,
Yet always to it self seems unsecure;
That wicked Fame which their first Love pro­claim'd,
Fore-tells the end; The Queen with rage in­flam'd
Thus greets him, thou dissembler would'st thou flye
Out of my arms by stealth perfidiously?
Could not the hand I plighted, nor the Love,
Nor thee the Fate of dying Dido move?
And in the depth of Winter in the night,
Dark as thy black designs to take thy flight,
To plow the raging Seas to Coasts unknown,
The Kingdom thou pretend'st to not thine own;
Were Troy restor'd, thou shouldst mistrust a wind
False as thy Vows, and as thy heart unkind.
[Page 130] Fly'st thou from me? by these dear drops of brine
I thee adjure, by that right hand of thine,
By our Espousals, by our Marriage-bed,
If all my kindness ought have merited;
If ever I stood fair in thy esteem,
From ruine, me, and my lost house redeem.
Cannot my Prayers a free acceptance find?
Nor my Tears soften an obdurate mind?
My Fame of Chastity, by which the Skies
I reacht before, by thee extinguisht dies;
Into my Borders now Iarbas falls,
And my revengeful Brother scales my walls;
The wild Numindians will advantage take,
For thee both Tyre and Carthage me forsake.
Hadst thou before they flight but left with me
A young Aeneas, who resembling thee,
[Page 131] Might in my sight have sported, I had then
Not wholly lost, nor quite deserted been;
By thee no more my Husband, but my Guest,
Betray'd to mischiefs, of which death's the least.
With fixed looks he stands, and in his Breast
By Ioves command his struggling care sup­prest;
Great Queen, your favours and deserts so great,
Though numberless, I never shall forget;
No time, until my self I have forgot;
Out of my heart Eliza's name shall blot:
But my unwilling flight the Gods inforce,
And that must justifie our sad Divorce;
Since I must you forsake, would Fate permit,
To my desires I might my fortune fit;
Troy to her Ancient Splendour I would raise,
And where I first began, would end my days;
[Page 132] But since the Lycian Lotts, and Delphick God
Have destin'd Italy for our abode;
Since you proud Carthage (fled from Tyre) en­joy,
Why should not Latium us receive from Troy?
As for my Son, my Fathers angry Ghost,
Tells me his hopes by my delays are crost,
And mighty Ioves Ambassadour appear'd
With the same message, whom I saw and heard
We both are griev'd when you or I complain,
But much the more, when all complaints are vain;
I call to witness all the Gods and thy
Beloved head, the Coast of Italy
Against my will I seek.
Whilst thus he speaks, she rowls her sparkling eyes,
Surveys him round, and thus incens'd replies;
[Page 133] Thy Mother was no Goddess, nor thy stock
From Dardanus, but in some horrid rock,
Perfidious wretch, rough Caucasus thee bred,
And with their Milk Hircanian Tygers fed.
Dissimulation I shall now forget,
And my reserves of rage in order set;
Could all my Prayers and soft Entreaties force
Sighs from his Breast, or from his look re­morse.
Where shall I first complain? can Mighty Iove
Or Iuno such Impieties approve?
The just Astraea sure is fled to Hell,
Nor more in Earth, nor Heaven it self will dwell.
Oh Faith! him on my Coasts by Tempest cast,
Receiving madly, on my Throne I plac'd;
[Page 134] His Men from Famine, and his Fleet from Fire
I rescu'd: now the Lycian Lotts conspire
With Phoebus; now Ioves Envoyé through the Air
Brings dismal tydings, as if such low care
Could reach their thoughts, or their repose di­sturb;
Thou art a false Impostor, and a Fourbe;
Go, go, pursue thy Kingdom through the Main
I hope if Heaven her Justice still retain,
Thou shalt be wrackt, or cast upon some rock,
Where thou the name of Dido shalt invoke;
I'le follow thee in Funeral flames, when dead
My Ghost shall thee attend at Board and Bed,
And when the Gods on thee their vengeance show,
That welcom news shall comfort me below.
This saying, from his hated sight she fled;
Conducted by her Damsels to her bed;
[Page 135] Yet restless she arose, and looking out,
Beholds the Fleet, and hears the Seamen shout:
When great Aeneas pass'd before the Guard,
To make a view how all things were prepar'd.
Ah cruel Love! to what dost thou inforce
Poor Mortal Breasts? again she hath recourse
To Tears, and Prayers, again she feels the smart
Of a fresh wound from his tyrannick Dart.
That she no ways nor means may▪ leave untry'd,
Thus to her Sister she her self apply'd:
Dear Sister, my resentment had not been
So moving, if this Fate I had fore-seen;
Therefore to me this last kind office do,
Thou hast some interest in our scornful Foe,
He trusts to thee the Counsels of his mind,
Thou his soft hours, and free access canst find;
[Page 136] Tell him I sent not to the Ilian Coast
My Fleet to aid the Greeks; his Fathers Ghost
I never did disturb; ask him to lend
To this the last request that I shall send,
A gentle Ear; I wish that he may find
A happy passage, and a prosp'rous wind.
That contract I not plead, which he betray'd,
Nor that his promis'd Conquest be delay'd;
All that I ask, is but a short Reprieve,
Till I forget to love, and learn to grieve;
Some pause and respite only I require,
Till with my tears I shall have quencht my fire.
If thy address can but obtain one day
Or two, my Death that service shall repay.
Thus she intreats; such messages with tears
Condoling Anne to him, and from him bears;
But him no Prayers, no Arguments can move,
The Fates resist, his Ears are stopt by Iove:
[Page 137] As when fierce Northern blasts from th' Alpes descend,
From his firm roots with struggling gusts to rend
An aged sturdy Oak, the ratling sound
Grows loud, with leaves and scatter'd arms the ground
Is over-layd; yet he stands fixt, as high
As his proud head is raised towards the Sky,
So low towards Hell his roots descend. With Pray'rs
And Tears the Hero thus assail'd, great cares
He smothers in his Breast, yet keeps his Post,
All their addresses and their labour lost.
Then she deceives her Sister with a smile,
Anne in the Inner Court erects a Pile;
Thereon his Arms and once lov'd Portraict lay,
Thither our fatal Marriage-bed convey;
All cursed Monuments of him with fire
We must abolish (so the Gods require)
[Page 138] She gives her credit, for no worse effect
Then from Sichaeus death she did suspect,
And her commands obeys.
Aurora now had left Tithonus bed,
And o're the world her blushing Raies did spread;
The Queen beheld as soon as day appear'd,
The Navy under Sail, the Haven clear'd;
Thrice with her hand her Naked Breast she knocks,
And from her forehead tears her Golden Locks.
O Iove, she cry'd, and shall he thus delude
Me and my Realm! why is he not pursu'd?
Arm, Arm, she cry'd, and let our Tyrians board
With ours his Fleet, and carry Fire and Sword;
Leave nothing unattempted to destroy
That perjur'd Race, then let us dye with joy;
What if the event of War uncertain were,
Nor death, nor danger, can the desperate fear?
[Page 139] But oh too late! this thing I should have done,
When first I plac'd the Traytor on my Throne.
Behold the Faith of him who sav'd from fire
His honour'd houshold gods, his Aged Sire
His Pious shoulders from Troy's Flames did bear;
Why did I not his Carcase piece-meal tear
And cast it in the Sea? why not destroy
All his Companions and beloved Boy
Ascanius? and his tender limbs have drest,
And made the Father on the Son to Feast?
Thou Sun, whose lustre all things here below
Surveys; and Iuno conscious of my woe;
Revengeful Furies, and Queen Hecate,
Receive and grant my prayer! if he the Sea
Must needs escape, and reach th' Ausonian land,
If Iove decree it, Iove's decree must stand;
[Page 140] When landed, may he be with arms opprest
By his rebelling people, be distrest
By exile from his Country, be divorc'd
From young Ascanius sight, and be enforc'd
To implore Forrein aids, and lose his Friends
By violent and undeserved ends:
When to conditions of unequal Peace
He shall submit, then may he nor possess
Kingdom nor Life, and find his Funeral
I'th' Sands, when he before his day shall fall:
And ye oh Tyrians with immortal hate
Pursue his race, this service dedicate
To my deplored ashes; let there be
'Twixt us and them no League nor Amity;
May from my bones a new Achilles rise,
That shall infest the Trojan Colonies
[Page 141] With Fire, and Sword, and Famine, when length
Time to our great attempts contributes strength;
Our Seas, our Shores, our Armies theirs oppose,
And may our Children be for ever Foes.
A ghastly paleness deaths approach portends,
Then trembling she the fatal pile ascends;
Viewing the Trojan relicks, she unsheath'd
Aeneas Sword, not for that use bequeath'd:
Then on the guilty bed she gently lays
Her self, and softly thus lamenting prays:
Dear Reliques whilst that Gods and Fates gave leave,
Free me from care, and my glad soul receive;
That date which fortune gave I now must end,
And to the shades a noble Ghost descend;
Sichaeus blood by his false Brother spilt,
I have reveng'd, and a proud City built;
[Page 142] Happy, alas! too happy I had liv'd,
Had not the Trojan on my Coast arriv'd;
But shall I dye without revenge? yet dye,
Thus, thus with joy to thy Sichaeus flye.
My conscious Foe my Funeral fire shall view
From Sea, and may that Omen him pursue.
Her fainting hand let fall the Sword besmear'd
With blood, and then the Mortal wound ap­pear'd;
Through all the Court the fright and clamours rise,
Which the whole City fills with fears and cries,
As loud as if her Carthage, or old Tyre
The Foe had entred, and had set on Fire:
Amazed Anne with speed ascends the stairs,
And in her arms her dying Sister rears:
Did you for this, your self, and me beguile
For such an end did I erect this Pile?
[Page 143] Did you so much despise me, in this Fate
My self with you not to associate?
Your self and me, alas! this fatal wound
The Senate, and the People, doth confound.
I'le wash her Wound with Tears, and at her Death,
My Lips from hers shall draw her parting Breath.
Then with her Vest the Wound she wipes and dries;
Thrice with her Arm the Queen attempts to rise,
But her strength failing, falls into a swound,
Life's last efforts yet striving with her Wound;
Thrice on her Bed she turns, with wandring sight
Seeking, she groans when she beheld the light;
Then Iuno pitying her disastrous Fate,
Sends Iris down, her Pangs to Mitigate,
[Page 144] (Since if we fall before th' appointed day,
Nature and Death continue long their Fray)
Iris Descends; This Fatal lock (says she)
To Pluto I bequeath, and set thee free,
Then clips her Hair, cold Numness strait be­reaves
Her Corps of sense, and th' Ayrs her Soul re­ceives.

A Preface to the following Translation.

GOing this last Summer to visit the Wells, I took an occasion (by the way) to wait upon an Ancient and Honourable Friend of mine, whom I found diverting his (then solitary) retirement with the Latin Original of this Translation, which (being out of Print) I had never seen before: when I looked upon it, I saw that it had formerly passed through two Learned hands, not without approba­tion; which were Ben Johnson, and Sir Kenelme Digby; but I found it, (where I shall never find my self) in the service of a better Master, the Earl of Bristol, of whom I shall say no more; for I love not to improve the Honour of the Living, by impairing that of the Dead; and my own Profes­sion hath taught me, not to erect new Superstructi­ons upon an old Ruine. He was pleased to re­commend it to me for my companion at the Wells, where I lik'd the entertainment it gave me so well, that I undertook to redeem it from an obsolete Eng­lish disguise, wherein an old Monk had cloathed it, and to make as becoming a new Vest for it, as I could.

The Author was a Person of Quality in Italy, his name Mancini, which Family matched since with the Sister of Cardinal Mazarine; he was co-tem­porary to Petrarch, and Mantuan, and not long before Torquato Tasso; which shews, that the [Page 146] Age they lived in, was not so unlearned, as that which preceded, or that which followed.

The Author writ upon the four Cardinal Vertues▪ but I have Translated only the two first, not to turn the kindness I intended to him into an injury▪ for the two last are little more then repetitions and recitals of the first; and (to make a just excuse for him) they could not well be otherwise, since the two last Vertues are but descendants from the first; Prudence being the true Mother of Temperance, and true Fortitude the Child of Iustice.

Of Prudence.

WIsdoms first Progress is to take a View
What's decent or un-decent, false or true.
Hee's truly Prudent, who can separate
Honest from Vile, and still adhere to that;
Their difference to measure, and to reach,
Reason well rectify'd must Nature teach.
And these high Scrutinies are subjects fit
For Man's all-searching and enquiring wit;
That search of Knowledge did from Adam flow;
Who wants it, yet abhors his wants to show.
Wisdom of what her self approves, makes choice,
Nor is led Captive by the Common voice.
Clear-sighted Reason Wisdoms Judgment leads,
And Sense, her Vassal, in her footsteps treads.
[Page 148] That thou to Truth the perfect way may'st know,
To thee all her specifick forms I'le show;
He that the way to Honesty will learn,
First what's to be avoided must discern.
Thy self from flattering self-conceit defend,
Nor what thou dost not know, to know pre­tend.
Some secrets deep in abstruse Darkness lye;
To search them, thou wilt need a piercing Eye.
Not rashly therefore to such things assent,
Which undeceiv'd, thou after may'st repent;
Study and Time in these must thee instruct,
And others old experience may conduct.
Wisdom her self her Ear doth often lend
To Counsel offer'd by a faithful Friend.
In equal Scales two doubtful matters lay,
Thou may'st chuse safely that which most doth weigh;
[Page 149] 'Tis not secure, this place, or that to guard,
If any other entrance stand unbarr'd;
He that escapes the Serpents Teeth, may fail
If he himself secure not from his Tayl.
Who saith, who could such ill events expect?
With shame on his own Counsels doth reflect;
Most in the World doth self-conceit deceive,
Who just and good, what e're they act, believe;
To their Wills wedded, to their Errours slaves,
No man (like them) they think himself behaves.
This stiff-neckt Pride, nor Art, nor Force, can bend,
Nor high-flown hopes to Reasons Lure descend.
Fathers sometimes their Childrens Faults re­gard
With Pleasure, and their Crimes with gifts re­ward.
Ill Painters when they draw, and Poets write,
Virgil and Titian, (self admiring) slight;
[Page 150] Then all they do, like Gold and Pearl appears,
And others actions are but Dirt to theirs;
They that so highly think themselves above
All other Men, themselves can only Love;
Reason and Vertue, all that Man can boast
O're other Creatures, in those Brutes are lost.
Observe (if thee this Fatal Errour touch,
Thou to thy self contributing too much)
Those who are generous, humble, just, and wise,
Who nor their Gold, nor themselves Idolize;
To form thy self by their Example, learn,
(For many Eyes can more then one discern)
But yet beware of Councels when too full,
Number makes long disputes and graveness dull;
Though their Advice be good, their Counsel wise,
Yet Length still loses Opportunities:
[Page 151] Debate destroys dispatch; as Fruits we see
Rot, when they hang too long upon the Tree;
In vain that Husbandman his Seed doth sow,
If he his Crop, not in due season mow.
A General sets his Army in Array
In vain, unless he Fight, and win the day.
'Tis Vertuous Action that must Praise bring forth,
Without which, slow advice is little worth.
Yet they who give good Counsel, Praise de­serve,
Though in the active part they cannot serve:
In action, Learned Counsellours their Age,
Profession, or Disease, forbids t' ingage.
Nor to Philosophers is praise deny'd,
Whose wise Instructions After-ages guide;
Yet vainly most their Age in study spend;
No end of writing Books, and to no end:
[Page 152] Beating their brains for strange and hidded things,
Whose Knowledge, nor Delight, nor Profit brings;
Themselves with doubts both day and night perplex,
Nor Gentle Reader please, or teach, but vex.
Books should to one of these four ends con­duce,
For Wisdom, Piety, Delight, or Use.
What need we gaze upon the spangled Sky?
Or into Matters hidden Causes pry?
To describe every City, Stream, or Hill
I'th World, our fancy with vain Arts to fill?
What is't to hear a Sophister that pleads,
Who by the Ears the deceiv'd Audience leads?
If we were wise, these things we should not mind,
But more delight in easie matters find.
[Page 153] Learn to live well, that thou may'st dye so too;
To live and dye is all we have to do:
The way (if no Digression's made) is even,
And free access, if we but ask, is given.
Then seek to know those things which make us blest,
And having found them, lock them in thy Breast;
Enquiring then the way, go on, nor slack,
But mend thy pace, nor think of going back.
Some their whole Age in these enquiries wast,
And dye like Fools before one step they past;
'Tis strange to know the way, and not t' ad­vance,
That Knowledge is far worse then Ignorance.
The Learned teach, but what they teach, not do;
And standing still themselves, make others go.
In vain on Study, time away we throw,
When we forbear to act the things we know.
[Page 154] The Souldier that Philosopher well blam'd,
Who long and loudly in the Schools declaim'd▪
Tell (said the Souldier) venerable Sir
Why all these Words, this Clamour, and this stir?
Why do disputes in wrangling spend the day?
Whilst one says only yea, and t' other nay.
Oh, said the Doctor, we for Wisdom toyl'd,
For which none toyls too much: the Souldier smil'd;
Y' are gray and old, and to some pious use
This mass of Treasure you should now reduce:
But you your store have hoarded in some bank,
For which th' Infernal Spirits shall you thank.
Let what thou learnest be by practise shown,
'Tis said, that Wisdoms Children make her known.
What's good doth open to th' enquirer stand,
And it self offers to th' accepting hand;
[Page 155] All things by Order and true Measures done,
Wisdom will end, as well as she begun.
Let early care thy main Concerns secure,
Things of less moment may delays endure:
Men do not for their Servants first prepare,
And of their Wives and Children quit the care;
Yet when we're sick, the Doctor's fetch't in haste,
Leaving our great concernment to the last.
When we are well, our hearts are only set
(Which way we care not) to be Rich, or Great;
What shall become of all that we have got;
We only know that us it follows not;
And what a trifle is a moments Breath,
Laid in the Scale with everlasting Death?
What's Time, when on Eternity we think?
A thousand Ages in that Sea must sink;
Time's nothing but a word, a million
Is full as far from Infinite as one.
[Page 156] To whom thou much dost owe, thou much must pay,
Think on the Debt against th' accompting-day;
God, who to thee, Reason and Knowledge lent,
Will ask how these two Talents have been spent.
Let not low Pleasures thy high Reason blind,
He's mad, that seeks what no man e're could find.
Why should we fondly please our Sense, wherein
Beasts us exceed, nor feel the stings of sin?
What thoughts Mans Reason better can become,
Then th' expectation of his welcom home?
Lords of the World have but for Life their Lease,
And that too, (if the Lessor please) must cease.
Death cancels Natures Bonds, but for our Deeds
(That Debt first paid) a strict account suc­ceeds;
[Page 157] If here not clear'd, no Surety-ship can Bail
Condemned Debtors from th' Eternal Goal;
Christ's Blood's our Balsom, if that cures us here,
Him, when our Judge, we shall not find severe;
His yoke is easie, when by us embrac'd,
But loads and galls, if on our Necks 'tis cast.
Be just in all thy actions, and if joyn'd
With those that are not, never change thy mind;
If ought obstruct thy course, yet stand not still,
But wind about, till thou have topp'd the Hill;
To the same end Men several Paths may tread,
As many Doors into one Temple lead;
And the same hand into a fist may close,
Which instantly a Palm expanded shows:
Justice and Faith never forsake the Wise,
Yet may occasion put him in Disguise;
Not turning like the wind, but if the state
Of things must change, he is not obstinate;
[Page 158] Things past, and future with the present weighs▪
Nor credulous of what vain rumour says:
Few things by Wisdom are at first believ'd,
An easie Ear deceives, and is deceiv'd;
For many Truths have often past for Lies,
And Lies as often put on Truths Disguise:
As Flattery too oft like Friendship shows,
So them, who speak plain Truth we think our Foes.
No quick reply to dubious questions make,
Suspence and caution still prevent mistake.
When any great design thou dost intend,
Think on the means, the manner, and the end:
All great Concernments must delays endure;
Rashness and haste make all things unsecure:
And if uncertain thy Pretensions be,
Stay till fit time wear out uncertainty;
But if to unjust things thou dost pretend,
E're they begin let thy Pretensions end.
[Page 159] Let thy Discourse be such, that thou may'st give
Profit to others, or from them receive:
Instruct the Ignorant, to those that live
Under thy care, good rules and patterns give;
Nor is't the least of Vertues, to relieve
Those whom afflictions or oppressions grieve.
Commend but sparingly whom thou dost love;
But less condemn whom thou dost not approve:
Thy Friend, like Flattery, too much Praise doth wrong,
And too sharp censure shews an evil tongue:
But let inviolate Truth be always dear
To thee, even before Friendship, Truth prefer;
Then what thou mean'st to give, still promise less;
Hold fast the Power, thy Promise to increase:
Look forward what's to come, and back what's past,
Thy life will be with Praise and Prudence grac'd:
[Page 160] What loss, or gain may follow thou may'st guess,
Thou then wilt be secure of the success;
Yet be not always on affairs intent,
But let thy thoughts be easie, and unbent;
When our Minds Eyes are dis-ingag'd and free,
They clearer, farther, and distinctly see;
They quicken sloth, perplexities untye,
Make roughness smooth, and hardness mollifie;
And though our hands from labour are releast,
Yet our minds find (even when we sleep) no rest.
Search not to find how other Men offend,
But by that Glass thy own offences mend;
Still seek to learn, yet care not much from whom,
(So it be Learning) or from whence it come.
Of thy own actions, others judgments learn,
Often by small, great matters we discern:
[Page 161] Youth, what Mans age is like to be doth show;
We may our Ends by our Beginnings know.
Let none direct thee what to do or say,
Till thee thy Judgment of the Matter sway;
Let not the pleasing many, thee Delight,
First judge, if those whom thou dost please, judge right.
Search not to find what lies too deeply hid,
Nor to know things, whose knowledge is forbid;
Nor climb on Pyramids, which thy head turns round
Standing, and whence no safe Descent is found:
In vain his Nerves, and Faculties he strains
To rise, whose raising unsecure remains:
They whom Desert and Favour forwards thrust,
Are wise, when they their measures can adjust.
When well at ease, and happy, live content,
And then consider why that life was lent;
[Page 162] When Wealthy, shew thy Wisdom not to be
To Wealth a Servant, but make Wealth serve thee.
Though all alone, yet nothing think or do,
Which nor a Witness, nor a Judge might know▪
The highest Hill, is the most slippery place,
And Fortune mocks us with a smiling face;
And her unsteady hand hath often plac'd
Men in high Power, but seldom hold them fast▪
Against her then her forces Prudence joyns,
And to the Golden Mean her self confines.
More in Prosperity is Reason tost,
Then Ships in Storms, their Helms and Anchors lost;
Before fair Gales not all our Sayls we bear,
But with side Winds into safe Harbours steer;
More Ships in Calms on a deceitful Coast,
Or unseen Rocks, then in high Storms are lost.
[Page 163] Who casts out threats and frowns, no man de­ceives,
Time for resistance, and defence he gives;
But Flattery still in sugar'd words betrays,
And Poyson in high tasted Meats conveys;
So, Fortunes smiles unguarded Man surprize,
But when she frowns, he arms, and her defies.

Of Iustice.

'TIS the first Sanction, Nature gave to Man,
Each other to assist in what they can;
Just or unjust, this Law for ever stands,
All things are good by Law which she com­mands;
The first step, Man towards Christ must justly live,
VVho t' us himself, and all we have did give;
In vain doth man the name of Just expect,
If his Devotions he to God neglect;
[Page 164] So must we reverence God, as first to know
Justice from him, not from our selves doth flow;
God those accepts who to Mankind are Friends,
Whose Justice far as their own Power extends;
In that they imitate the Power Divine,
The Sun alike on Good and Bad doth shine;
And he that doth no Good, although no Ill,
Does not the office of the Just fulfil.
Virtue doth Man to virtuous actions steer,
'Tis not enough that he should Vice forbear;
We live not only for our selves to care,
Whilst they that want it are deny'd their share.
Wise Plato said, the world with men was stor'd,
That succour each to other might afford;
Nor are those succours to one sort confin'd,
But several parts to several men consign'd;
He that of his own stores no part can give,
May with his Counsel or his Hands relieve.
[Page 165] If Fortune make thee powerful, give Defence
'Gainst Fraud, and Force, to naked Innocence:
And when our Justice doth her Tributes pay,
Method and Order must direct the way:
First to our God we must with Reverence bow,
The second honour to our Prince we owe;
Next to Wives, Parents, Children, fit respect,
And to our Friends and Kindred we direct:
Then we must those, who groan beneath the weight
Of Age, Disease, or Want, commiserate:
'Mongst those whom honest Lives can recom­mend,
Our Justice more compassion should extend;
To such, who thee in some distress did aid,
Thy Debt of thanks with Interest should be paid:
As Hesiod sings, spread waters o're thy field,
And a most just and glad increase 'twill yield;
[Page 166] But yet take heed, lest doing good to one,
Mischief and wrong be to another done;
Such moderation with thy bounty joyn,
That thou may'st nothing give that is not thine▪
That Liberality is but cast away,
Which makes us borrow what we cannot pay:
And no access to wealth let Rapine bring;
Do nothing that's not just, to be a King.
Justice must be from Violence exempt,
But Fraud's her only Object of Contempt.
Fraud in the Fox, Force in the Lyon dwells;
But Justice both from humane hearts expels;
But he's the greatest Monster (without doubt)
Who is a Wolf within, a Sheep without;
Nor only ill injurious actions are,
But evil words and slanders bear their share.
Truth Justice loves, and Truth Injustice fears,
Truth above all things a Just man reveres:
[Page 167] Though not by Oaths we God to witness call,
He sees and hears, and still remembers all;
And yet our attestations we may wrest,
Sometimes to make the Truth more manifest;
If by a Lye a man preserve his Faith,
He Pardon, Leave, and absolution hath;
Or if I break my Promise, which to thee
Would bring no good, but prejudice to me.
All things committed to thy trust, conceal,
Nor what's forbid by any means reveal.
Express thy self in plain, not doubtful words,
That, ground for Quarrels or Disputes affords:
Unless thou find occasion, hold thy tongue,
Thy self or others, careless talk may wrong.
When thou art called into publick Power,
And when a crowd of Suiters throng thy Door,
Be sure no great Offenders 'scape their dooms,
Small praise from Lenity▪ and Remissness comes;
[Page 168] Crimes pardoned, others to those Crimes invite,
Whilst Lookers on, severe Examples fright:
When by a pardon'd Murderer blood is spilt,
The Judge that pardon'd, hath the greatest guilt;
Who accuse Rigour, make a gross mistake,
One Criminal pardon'd, may an hundred make;
When Justice on Offenders is not done,
Law, Government, Commerce, are overthrown;
As besieg'd Traytors with the Foe conspire,
T' unlock the Gates, and set the Town on Fire.
Yet let not Punishment th' Offence exceed,
Justice with Weight and Measure must proceed:
Yet when pronouncing sentence, seem not glad,
Such Spectacles, though they are just, are sad;
Though what thou dost, thou ought'st not to repent,
Yet Humane Bowels cannot but relent;
[Page 169] Rather then all must suffer, some must dye;
Yet Nature must condole their misery;
And yet if many equal guilt involve,
Thou may'st not these condemn, and those ab­solve.
Justice when equal Scales she holds, is blind,
Nor Cruelty, nor Mercy, change her mind;
When some escape for that which others dye,
Mercy to those, to these is Cruelty.
A fine and slender Net the Spider weaves,
Which little and light Animals receives;
And if she catch a common Bee or Flye,
They with a piteous groan, and murmur dye;
But if a Wasp or Hornet she entrap,
They tear her Cords like Sampson, and escape;
So like a Flye the poor Offender dyes;
But like the Wasp, the Rich escapes, and flyes.
Do not if one but lightly thee offend,
The punishment beyond the Crime extend;
[Page 170] Or after warning the Offence forget;
So God himself our failings doth remit.
Expect not more from Servants then is just,
Reward them well, if they observe their trust;
Nor them with Cruelty or Pride invade,
Since God and Nature them our Brothers made;
If his Offence be great, let that suffice;
If light, forgive, for no Man's alwaies wise.

The Preface.

MY early Mistress, now my Antient Muse,
That strong Circaean liquor cease to infuse,
Wherewith thou didst Intoxicate my youth,
Now stoop with dis-inchanted wings to Truth;
As the Doves flight did guide Aeneas, now
May thine conduct me to the Golden Bough;
Tell (like a Tall Old Oake) how Learning shoots
To Heaven Her Branches, and to Hell her Roots.

The Progress of Learning.

WHen God from Earth form'd Adam in the East,
He his own Image on the Clay imprest;
As Subjects then the whole Creation came,
And from their Natures Adam them did Name,
Not from experience, (for the world was new)
He only from their Cause their Natures knew.
Had Memory been lost with Innocence,
We had not known the Sentence nor th' Of­fence;
'Twas his chief Punishment to keep in store
The sad remembrance what he was before;
And though th' offending part felt mortal pain,
Th' immortal part, its Knowledg did retain.
[Page 173] After the Flood, Arts to Chaldaea fell,
The Father of the faithful there did dwell,
Who both their Parent and Instructer was;
From thence did Learning into Aegypt pass;
Moses in all th' Aegyptian Arts was skill'd,
When Heavenly power that chosen Vessel fill'd,
And we to his High Inspiration owe,
That what was done before the Flood, we know.
From Aegypt Arts their Progress made to Greece,
Wrapt in the Fable of the Golden Fleece.
Musaeus first, then Orpheus civilize
Mankind, and gave the world their Deities;
To many Gods they taught Devotion,
Which were the distinct faculties of one;
The eternal cause, in their immortal lines
Was taught, and Poets were the first Divines:
God Moses first, then David did inspire,
To compose Anthems for his Heavenly Quire;
[Page 174] To th' one the style of Friend he did impart,
On th' other stampt the likeness of his heart:
And Moses, in the Old Original,
Even God the Poet of the world doth call.
Next those old Greeks, Pythagoras did rise,
Then Socrates, whom th' Oracle call'd Wise;
The Divine Plato Moral Vertue shows,
Then his Disciple Aristotle rose,
Who Natures secrets to the world did teach,
Yet that great Soul our Novelists impeach;
Too much manuring fill'd that field with weeds,
Whilst Sects, like Locusts, did destroy the seeds;
The tree of Knowledg blasted by disputes,
Produces sapless leaves instead of Fruits;
Proud Greece, all Nations else, Barbarians held,
Boasting her learning all the world excell'd.
Flying from thence, to Italy it came,
Graecia Major.
And to the Realm of Naples gave the Name,
[Page 175] Till both their Nation and their Arts did come
A welcom Trophy to Triumphant Rome;
Then wheresoe're her Conquering Eagles fled,
Arts, Learning, and Civility were spread;
And as in this our Microcosm, the heart
Heat, Spirit, Motion gives to every part;
So Rome's Victorious influence did disperse
All her own Vertues through the Universe.
Here some digression I must make t' accuse
Thee my forgetful, and ingrateful Muse:
Could'st thou from Greece to Latium take thy flight,
And not to thy great Ancestor do Right?
I can no more believe Old Homer blind
Then those, who say the Sun hath never shin'd;
The age wherein he liv'd, was dark, but he
Could not want sight, who taught the world to see:
They who Minerva from Ioves head derive,
Might make Old Homers Skull the Muses Hive;
[Page 166] And from his Brain, that Helicon distil,
Whose Racy Liquor did his off-spring fill.
Nor old Anacreon, Hesiod, Theocrite
Must we forget; nor Pindar's lofty Flight.
Old Homer's soul at last from Greece retir'd;
In Italy the Mantuan Swain inspir'd.
When Great Augustus made wars Tempests cease
His Halcion days brought forth the arts of Peace;
He still in his Tryumphant Chariot shines,
By Horace drawn, and Virgil's mighty lines.
'Twas certainly mysterious, that the Name
Of Prophets and of Poets is the same;
What the Tragedian wrote,
the late success
Declares was Inspiration, and not Guess:
As dark a truth that Author did unfold,
As Oracles, or Prophets e're fore-told:
At last the Ocean shall unlock the Bound
Of things,
The Pro­phecy.
and a New World by Typhis found,
[Page 177] Then Ages, far remote shall understand
The Isle of Thule is not the farthest Land.
Sure God, by these Discoveries, did design
That his clear Light through all the World should shine,
But the Obstruction from that Discord springs
The Prince of Darkness makes 'twixt Christian Kings;
That peaceful age, with happiness to Crown,
From Heaven the Prince of Peace himself came down.
Then, the true Sun of Knowledg first appear'd,
And the old dark mysterious Clouds were clear'd,
The heavy Cause of th' old accursed Flood
Sunk in the sacred Deluge of his Blood.
His Passion, Man from his first fall, redeem'd;
Once more to Paradise restor'd we seem'd;
Satan himself was bound, till th' Iron chain
Our Pride did break, and him let loose again,
[Page 178] Still the Old Sting remain'd, and Man began
To tempt the Serpent, as He tempted Man;
Then Hell sends forth her Furies, Avarice, Pride,
Fraud, Discord, Force, Hypocrisie their Guide;
Though the Foundation on a Rock were laid,
The Church was undermin'd, and then betray'd;
Though the Apostles, these events fore-told,
Yet, even the Shepherd did devour the Fold:
The Fisher to convert the world began,
The Pride convincing of vain-glorious Man;
But soon, his Follower grew a Soveraign Lord,
And Peter's Keys exchang'd for Peter's Sword,
Which still maintains for his adopted Son
Vast Patrimonies, though himself had none;
Wresting the Text, to the old Gyants sense,
That Heaven, once more, must suffer violence.
[Page 179] Then subtle Doctors, Scriptures, made their prize,
Casuists, like Cocks, struck out each others Eyes;
Then dark distinctions, Reasons light disguis'd,
And into Attoms, Truth anatomiz'd.
Then Mahomets Crescent by our fewds en­creast,
Blasted the learn'd Remainders of the East:
That project, when from Greece to Rome it came,
Made Mother Ignorance Devotions Dame;
Then, He, whom Lucifer's own Pride did swell,
His faithful Emissary, rose from Hell
To possess Peter's Chair, that Hildebrand
Whose foot on Miters, then on Crowns did stand,
And before that exalted Idol, all
(Whom we call Gods on Earth) did prostrate fall.
[Page 180] Then Darkness, Europe's face did over-spread
From lazy Cells, where superstition bred,
Which, link'd with blind Obedience, so encreast
That the whole world, some ages they opprest;
Till through those Clouds, the Sun of Knowledg brake,
And Europe from her Lethargy did wake:
Then, first our Monarchs were acknowledg'd here
That they, their Churches Nursing-Fathers were.
When Lucifer no longer could advance
His works on the false ground of Ignorance,
New Arts he tries, and new designs he laies,
Then, his well-study'd Master-piece he plays;
Loyola, Luther, Calvin he inspires
And kindles, with infernal Flames, their fires,
Sends their fore-runner (conscious of th' event)
Printing, his most pernicious Instrument:
[Page 181] Wild Controversie then, which long had slept,
Into the Press from ruin'd Cloysters leapt;
No longer by Implicite faith we erre,
Whilst every Man's his own Interpreter;
No more conducted now by Aarons Rod,
Lay-Elders, from their Ends, create their God.
But seven wise men, the ancient world did know,
We scarce know seven, who think themselves not so.
When Man learn'd undefil'd Religion,
We were commanded to be all as one;
Fiery disputes, that Union have calcin'd,
Almost as many minds as men we find,
And when that flame finds combustible Earth,
Thence Fatuus fires and Meteors take their birth,
Legions of Sects, and Insects come in throngs;
To name them all, would tire a hundred tongues.
[Page 182] Such were the Centaures of Ixions race
Who, a bright Cloud, for Iuno, did embrace,
And such the Monsters of Chymaera's kind,
Lyons before, and Dragons were behind.
Then, from the clashes between Popes and Kings,
Debate, like sparks from Flints collision, springs:
As Ioves loud Thunderbolts were forg'd by heat,
The like, our Cyclops, on their Anvils, beat;
All the rich Mines of Learning, ransackt are
To furnish Ammunition for this War:
Uncharitable Zeal our Reason whets,
And double Edges on our Passion sets;
'Tis the most certain sign, the worl'ds accurst,
That the best things corrupted, are the worst;
'Twas the corrupted Light of knowledg, hurl'd
Sin, Death, and Ignorance o're all the world;
[Page 183] That Sun like this, (from which our fight we have)
Gaz'd on too long, resumes the light he gave;
And when thick mists of doubts obscure his beams,
Our Guide is Errour, and our Visions, Dreams;
'Twas no false Heraldry, when madness drew
Her Pedigree from those, who too much knew;
Who in deep Mines, for hidden Knowledg, toyls,
Like Guns o're-charg'd, breaks, misses, or re­coyls;
When subtle Wits have spun their thred too fine,
'Tis weak and fragile like Arachnes line:
True Piety, without cessation tost
By Theories, the practick part is lost,
And like a Ball bandy'd 'twixt Pride and Wit,
Rather then yield, both sides the Prize will quit,
[Page 184] Then whilst his Foe, each Gladiator foyls,
The Atheist looking on, enjoys the spoyls.
Through Seas of knowledg, we our course ad­vance,
Discovering still new worlds of Ignorance;
And these Discoveries make us all confess
That sublunary Science is but guess,
Matters of fact, to man are only known,
And what seems more, is meer opinion;
The standers by, see clearly this event,
All parties say they're sure, yet all dissent,
With their new Light our bold Inspectors press
Like Cham, to shew their Fathers Nakedness,
By whose Example, after-ages may
Discover, we more naked are then they;
All humane wisdom to divine, is folly,
This Truth, the wisest man made melancholy,
[Page 185] Hope, or belief, or guess gives some relief,
But to be sure we are deceiv'd, brings grief;
Who thinks his Wife is Vertuous, though not so,
Is pleas'd, and patient, till the truth he know.
Our God, when Heaven and Earth he did Create,
Form'd Man, who should of both participate,
If our Lives Motions their's must imitate,
Our knowledge, like our blood, must circulate.
When like a Bride-groom from the East, the Sun
Sets forth, he thither, whence he came doth run;
Into Earth's Spungy Veins, the Ocean sinks
Those Rivers to replenish which he drinks;
So Learning which from Reasons Fountain springs,
Back to the sourse, some secret Channel brings.
[Page 186] 'Tis happy when our Streams of Knowledge flow
To fill their banks, but not to overthrow.
Vt metit Autumnus fruges quas parturit Aestas,
Sic Ortum Natura, dedit Deus his quo (que) Finem.
THE SOPHY. As it was …

THE SOPHY. As it was Acted at the Private House in Black Friars by His Majesties Servants.

LONDON, Printed by I. M. for H. Herringman, at the Sign of the Blew Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1667.

The Prologue.

HIther ye come, dislike, and so undo
The Players, and disgrace the Poet too;
But he protests against your votes, and swears
He'll not be try'd by any, but his Peers;
He claims his priviledge, and sayes 'tis fit
Nothing should be the Iudge of wit, but Wit.
Now you will all be Wits, and be I pray;
And you that discommend it, mend the Play:
'Tis the best satisfaction, he knows then
His turn will come, to laugh at you agen.
But Gentlemen, if ye dislike the Play,
Pray make no words on't till the second day,
Or third be past: For we would have you know it,
The loss will fall on us, not on the Poet:
For he writes not for money, nor for praise,
Nor to be call'd a Wit, nor to wear Bayes:
Cares not for frowns or smiles: so now you'll say,
Then (why the Devil) did he write a Play?
He says, 'twas then with him, as now with you,
He did it when he had nothing else to do.

Scena Persia.

  • Abbas, King of Persia.
  • Mirza, the Prince, his Son.
  • Erythaea, the Princess, his Wife.
  • Enemies to the Prince.
    • Haly, the King's Favourite.
    • Mirvan, Haly's Confident.
  • Two Lords, Friends to the Prince.
    • Abdall,
    • Morat,
  • Caliph.
  • Solyman, a foolish Courtier.
  • Soffy, the Prince his Son, now King of Persia.
  • Fatyma, his Daughter.
  • 2 Turkish Bashawes.
  • 3 Captains.
  • 2 Women.
  • Physician,
  • Tormentors.


Actus Primus.

Enter Abdall and Morat.
MY Lord, you have good intelligence,
What news from the Army,
Any certainty of their design or strength?
We know not their design: But for their strength,
The disproportion is so great, we cannot but
Expect a fatal consequence.
How great my Lord?
The Turks are fourscore thousand Foot,
[Page 2] And fifty thousand Horse. And we in the whole
Exceed not forty thousand.
Me-thinks the Prince should know
That Judgment's more essential to a General,
Than Courage, if he prove victorious
'Tis but a happy rashness.
But if he lose the battel, 'tis an error
Beyond excuse, or remedy, considering
That half the Lesser Asia will follow
The Victors fortune.
'Tis his single vertue
And terror of his name, that walls us in
From danger, were he lost, the naked Empire
Would be a prey expos'd to all Invaders.
But is't not necessary
The King should know his danger?
To tell him of so great a danger,
Were but to draw a greater on our selves:
For though his eye is open as the mornings,
Towards lusts & pleasures, yet so fast a lethargy
Has seiz'd his powers towards publick cares and dangers,
He sleeps like death.
He's a man of that strange composition,
Made up of all the worst extremities
Of youth, and age.
And though
He feels the heats of youth, and colds of age,
Yet neither tempers, nor corrects the other;
As if there were an Ague in his nature
[Page 3] That still inclines to one extream.
But the Caliph, or Haly, or some that know
His softer hours, might best acquaint him with it.
Alas, they shew him nothing
But in the glass of flattery, if any thing
May bear a shew of glory, fame, or greatness,
'Tis multiplied to an immense quantity,
And stretcht even to Divinity:
But if it tend to danger, or dishonour,
They turn about the Perspective, and shew it
So little, at such distance, so like nothing,
That he can scarce discern it.
'Tis the fate of Princes, that no know­ledge
Comes pure to them, but passing through the eies
And ears of other men, it takes a tincture
From every channel; and still bears a relish
Of Flattery, or private ends.
But danger and necessity
Dare speak the truth.
But commonly
They speak not till it is too late:
And for Haly,
He that shall tell him of the Princes danger,
But tells him that himself is safe.

Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Princess, and Solyman.
Clear up, clear up, sweet Erythaea,
That cloud that hangs upon thy brow presages
A greater storm than all the Turkish power
Can throw upon us, me-thinks I see my fortune
Setling her looks by thine, and in thy smile
Sits victory, and in thy frown our ruine:
Why should not hope
As much erect our thoughts, as fear deject them;
Why should we
Anticipate our sorrows? 'Tis like those
That die for fear of death:
What is't you doubt, his courage or his fortune?
Envy it self could never doubt his courage.
Then let not love do worse, by doubting that
Which is but valours slave; a wise, well-temper'd valour,
For such is his, those Giants death and danger,
Are but his Ministers, and serve a Master
More to be fear'd than they; & the blind Goddess
Is led amongst the Captives in his triumph.
I had rather she had eyes, for if she saw him
Sure she would love him better; but admit
[Page 5] She were at once a Goddess, and his slave,
Yet fortune, valour, all is overborn
By numbers: as the long resisting Bank
By the impetuous Torrent.
That's but rumour:
Ne're did the Turk invade our Territory,
But Fame and Terrour doubled still their files:
But when our Troops encountred, then we found
Scarce a sufficient matter for our fury.
One brings word of a Messenger.
Solyman conduct him in,
'Tis surely from the Prince.
Enter Post, and delivers a Letter.
Give it our Secretaries, I hope the Prince is well.
The Letter will inform you.
(Enter a Mess.
Sir, the Lords attend you.
Ex. Princess. En­ter Lords.
What news from the Army?
Please you to hear the Letter.
Read it.
The Turk enraged with his last years overthrow,
Hath re-enforc't his Army with the choice of all his Janizars,
And the flow'r of his whole Empire, we
Understand by some fugitives, that he hath com­manded
The Generals to return with victory, or expect
A shameful death: what I shall further do,
(Their numbers five times exceeding ours)
I desire to receive directions from your Majesties command.
Send away all our Guards
[Page 6] Let fresh supplies of victuals, and of money.
Your Treasures
Are quite exhausted, the Exchequer's empty.
Send to the Bankers.
Sir, upon your late demands
They answered they were poor.
Sure the Villains hold a correspondence
With the enemy, and thus they would betray us:
First give us up to want, then to contempt,
And then to ruine; but tell those sons of earth
I'le have their money, or their heads.
Wind a horn.
'Tis my command, when such occasions are
No Plea must serve; 'tis cruelty to spare.
Another Messenger.
Exeunt Lords.
The Prince transported with his youthful heat,
I fear hath gon too far: 'Tis some disaster,
Or else he would not send so thick: well, bring him in;
I am prepar'd to hear the worst of evils.
Enter Solyman and two Captains.
Cap. kisses his hand.
What is the Prince besieged in his Tren­ches,
And must have speedy aid, or die by famine?
Or hath he rashly tri'd the chance of War,
And lost his Army, and his Liberty?
Tell me what Province they demand for ransom:
Or if the worst of all mishaps hath fallen,
Speak, for he could not die unlike himself:
Speak freely; and yet me-thinks I read
Something of better fortune in thy looks,
But dare not hope it.
[Page 7]
Sir, the Prince lives.
And hath not lost his honour?
As safe in honour as in life.
Nor liberty?
Free as the air he breaths.
Return with speed:
Tell him he shall have money, victuals, men,
With all the haste they can be levied.
Farewel. Offers to go.
But Sir, I have one word more.
Then be brief.
So now you are prepar'd; and I may venture.
What is't?
Sir, a Fathers love mixt with a Fathers care.
This shewing dangers greater, and that nearer,
Have rais'd your fears too high; and those re­mov'd,
Too suddenly would let in such a deluge
Of joy, as might oppress your aged spirits,
Which made me gently first remove your fears,
That so you might have room to entertain
Your fill of joy: Your Son's a Conquerour.
Delude me not with fained hopes, false joys,
It cannot be. And if he can but make
A fair Retreat, I shall account it more
Than all his former conquests, (those huge num­bers
Arm'd with despair) the flow'r of all the Empire.
Sir, I have not us'd to tell you tales or fa­bles,
And why should you suspect your happiness,
Being so constant. On my life 'tis true Sir.
[Page 8]
Well, I'le no more suspect
My fortune, nor thy faith:
Thou and thy news most welcom:
Go call the Princess and the Lords, they shall
Participate our joyes, as well as cares.
Enter Princess and Lords.
Fair daughter, blow away those mists & clouds,
And let thy eyes shine forth in their full lustre;
Invest them with thy loveliest smiles, put on
Thy choycest looks: his coming will deserve them.
What, is the Prince return'd with safety?
'Tis beyond belief or hope.
I, sweet Erythaea;
Laden with spoyls and honour: all thy fears,
Thy wakeful terrors, and affrighting dreams,
Thy morning sighs, and evening tears have now
Their full rewards. And you my Lords,
Prepare for Masques & Triumphs: Let no cir­cumstance
Be wanting, that becomes
The greatness of our State, or Joy.
Behold he comes.
Enter Prince with Captains, and two Captive Bashawes.
Welcom brave son, as welcom to thy father
As Phoebus was to Iove, when he had slain
Th' ambitious Giants that assail'd the sky;
And as my power resembles that of Ioves,
So shall thy glory like high Phoebus shine
As bright and as immortal,
[Page 9]
Great Sir, all acquisition
Of Glory as of Empire, here I lay before
Your Royal feet, happy to be the Instrument
To advance either: Sir I challenge nothing,
But am an humble suitor for these prisoners,
The late Commanders of the Turkish powers,
Whose valours have deserv'd a better fortune.
Then what hath thine deserv'd? th'are thine brave Mirzah,
Worthy of all thy Royal Ancestors,
And all those many Kingdoms, which their ver­tue,
Or got, or kept, though thou hadst not been born to't.
But daughter still your looks are sad,
No longer I'le defer your joys, go take him
Into thy chast embrace, and whisper to him
That welcom which those blushes promise.
Exit King.
My Erythaea, why entertain'st thou with so sad a brow
My long desir'd return? thou wast wont
With kisses and sweet smiles, to welcom home
My victories, though bought with sweat and bloud;
And long expected.
Pardon Sir;
'Tis with our souls
As with our eyes, that after a long darkness
Are dazled at the approach of sudden light:
When i'th' midst of fears we are surpriz'd
With unexpected happiness: the first
Degrees of joy are meer astonishment.
[Page 10] And 'twas so lately in a dreadful dream
I saw my Lord so near destruction,
Deprived of his eyes, a wretched Captive;
Then shrickt my self awake, then slept again
And dream't the same; my ill presaging fancy
Suggesting still 'twas true.
Then I forgive thy sadness, since love caus'd it,
For love is full of fears; and fear the shadow
Of danger, like the shadow of our bodies,
Is greater then, when that which is the cause
Is farthest off
But still there's something
That checks my joys,
Nor can I yet distinguish
Which is an apparition, this, or that.
An apparition?
At night I shall resolve that doubt, and make
Thy dreams more pleasing.
Enter Haly and Mirvan.
The time has been, my Lord,
When I was no such stranger to your thoughts,
You were not wont to wear upon your brow
A frown, or smile, but still have thought me worthy,
At least to know the cause.
'Tis true,
Thy breast hath ever been the Cabinet
Where I have lockt my secrets.
And did you ever find
[Page 11] That any art could pick the lock, or power
Could force it open.
No, I have ever found thee
Trusty and secret. But is't observ'd i'th' Court
That I am sad?
Observ'd? 'tis all mens wonder and dis­course,
That in a Joy so great, so universal,
You should not bear a part.
Discour'st of too?
Nothing but treason
More commonly, more boldly spoken.
So singular a sadness
Must have a cause as strange as the effect:
And grief conceal'd, like hidden fire consumes;
Which flaming out, would call in help to quench it.
But since thou canst not mend it,
To let thee know it, will but make thee worse;
Silence and time shall cure it.
But in diseases when the cause is known,
'Tis more than half the cure: you have my Lord
My heart to counsel, and my hands to act,
And my advice and actions both have met
Success in things unlikely.
But this
Is such a secret, I dare hardly trust it
To my own soul. And though it be a crime
In friendship to betray a trusted Counsel,
Yet to conceal this were a greater crime,
And of a higher nature. Mir. Now I know it,
And your endeavour to conceal it.
[Page 12] Speaks it more plainly. 'Tis some plot upon the Prince.
Oh thou hast touch't my Sore, and having searcht it,
Now heal it if thou canst: The Prince hates me,
Or loves me not, or loves another better;
Which is all one. This being known in Court,
Has rendred me despis'd, and scorn'd of all:
For I that in his absence
Blaz'd like a star of the first magnitude,
Now in his brighter sun-shine am not seen:
No applications now, no troops of suitors;
No power, no not so much as to do mischief.
My Lord, I am asham'd of you,
So ill a master in an art, so long
Profest, and practiz'd by you, to be angry,
And angry with a Prince. And yet to shew it
In a sad look, or womanish complaint:
How can you hope to compass your designs,
And not dissemble 'em. Go flatter & adore him,
Stand first among the crowd of his admirers.
Oh I have often spread those nets, but he
Hath ever been too wise to think them real.
Dissemble still, thank him for all his injuries;
Take 'em for favours; if at last
You cannot gain him; some pretty nimble poy­son
May do the feat. Or if he will abroad,
Find him some brave and honourable danger.
Have I not found him out as many dangers
As Iuno did for Hercules: yet he returns
[Page 13] Like Hercules, doubled in strength and honour.
If danger cannot do it, then try pleasure,
Which when no other enemy survives,
Still conquers all the Conquerers. Endeavour
To soften his ambition into lust,
Contrive fit opportunities, and lay
Baits for temptation.
Ile leave nothing unattempted:
But sure this will not take; for all his Passions,
Affections, and Faculties are slaves
Only to his ambition.
Then let him fall by his own greatness,
And puffe him up with glory, till it swell
And break him. First, betray him to himself,
Then to his ruine: From his virtues suck a poyson,
As Spiders do from flowers; praise him to his Father,
You know his nature: Let the Princes glory
Seem to eclipse, and cast a cloud on his;
And let fall something that may raise his jealou­sie:
But lest he should suspect it, draw it from him
As Fishers do the bait, to make him follow it.
But the old King is so suspitious.
But withall
Most fearful: He that views a Fort to take it,
Plants his Artillery 'gainst the weakest part:
Work on his fears, till fear hath made him cruel;
And cruelty shall make him fear again.
Methinks (my Lord) you that so oft have sound­ed
And fathom'd all his thoughts, that know the deeps
[Page 14] And shallows of his heart, should need no instru­ments
To advance your ends; his passions, and his fears
Lie Liegers for you in his brest, and there
Negotiate your affairs.
Enter King, Solyman, and Lords to them.
Solyman, Be it your care to entertain the Captains
And the Prisoners, & use them kindly.
Sir, I am not for entertainments now I am melancholy.
What, griev'd for your good fortune?
No Sir, but now the wars are done, we have no pretences
To put off Creditors: I am haunted Sir.
Not with Ghosts.
No Sir,
Material and Substantial Devils.
I know the cause, what is't thou ow'st them?
Not much Sir, but so much as spoils me for a good fellow;
'Tis but 2000 Dollars. A small sum—to you Sir.
Well, it shall be paid.
Then if the Devil come, for drinking let me alone with him.
Well, Drink, I love thee but too well already,
But I shall love thee better hereafter: I have often
Drunk my self into debt, but never out of debt till now.
Finis Actus primi.

Actus Secundus.

Scena Prima.

Enter Prince, Haly, Captains and Prisoners, Bashawes.
Pray let these strangers find such enter­tainment
As you would have desir'd,
Had but the chance of war determin'd it
For them, as now for us. And you brave enemies
Forget your Nation, and ungrateful Master;
And know that I can set so high a price
On valour, though in foes, as to reward it
With trust and honour.
1. Bashaw.
Sir, your twice conquered Vassals,
First by your courage, then your clemency,
Here humbly vow to sacrifice their lives,
(The gift of this your unexampled mercy)
To your commands and service.
Prince to Haly.
I pray (my Lord) second my suit,
I have already mov'd the King in private,
That in our next years expedition they may have Some command.
I shall, my Lord,
And glad of the occasion. aside.
[Page 16] I wonder Sir, you'll leave the Court, the sphere
Where all your graces in full lustre shine.
I Haly, but the reputation
Of virtuous actions past, if not kept up
With an access, and fresh supply of new ones,
Is lost and soon forgotten: and like Palaces,
For want of habitation and repair,
Dissolve to heaps of ruine.
But can you leave, Sir,
Your old indulgent Father, and forsake
The embraces of so fair, so chast a Wife?
And all the beauties of the Court besides,
Are mad in love, and dote upon your person:
And is't not better sleeping in their arms,
Than in a cold Pavilion in the Camp?
Where your short sleeps are broke and inter­rupted
With noises and alarms.
Haly, Thou know'st not me, how I despise
These short and empty pleasures; and how low
They stand in my esteem, which every Peasant,
The meanest Subject in my Fathers Empire
Enjoys as fully, in as high perfection
As he or I; and which are had in common
By beasts as well as men: wherein they equal,
If not exceed us; pleasures to which we're led
Only by sence, those creatures which have least
Of reason, most enjoy.
Is not
The Empire you are born to, a Scene large e­nough
[Page 17] To exercise your virtues? There are virtues
Civil as well as military; for the one
You have given the world an ample proof al­ready:
Now exercise the other, 'tis no less
To govern justly, make your Empire flourish
With wholesom laws, in riches, peace & plenty,
Than by the expence of wealth and bloud to make
New acquisitions.
That I was born so great, I owe to Fortune,
And cannot pay that debt, till vertue set me
High in example, as I am in title;
Till what the world calls fortune's gifts, my acti­ons
May stile their own rewards, and those too little.
Princes are then themselves, when they arise
More glorious in mens thoughts than in their eyes.
Sir, your fame
Already fills the world, and what is infinite
Cannot receive degrees, but will swallow
All that is added; as our Caspian Sea
Receives our Rivers, and yet seems not fuller:
And if you tempt her more, the wind of fortune
May come about, and take another point
And blast your glories.
My glories are past danger, they're full blown:
Things that are blasted, are but in their bud;
And as for fortune, I nor love, nor fear her:
I am resolv'd, go Haly, flatter still your aged Ma­ster,
[Page 18] Still sooth him in his pleasures, and still grow
Great by those arts.
Well, farewell Court,
Where vice not only hath usurp't the place,
But the reward, and even the name of vertue.
Still, still,
Slighted and scorn'd; yet this affront
Hath stampt a noble title on my malice,
And married it to Justice. The King is old,
And when the Prince succeeds,
I'm lost past all recovery: then I
Must meet my danger, and destroy him first;
But cunningly, and closely, or his son
And wife, like a fierce Tygress will devour me.
There's danger every way; and since 'tis so,
'Tis brave, and noble, when the falling weight
Of my own ruine crushes those I hate:
But how to do it, that's the work; he stands
So high in reputation with the people,
There's but one way, and that's to make his father
The instrument, to give the name, and envy
To him; but to my self the prize and glory.
He's old and jealous, apt for suspitions, 'gainst which Tyrants ears
Are never clos'd. The Prince is young,
Fierce, and ambitious, I must bring together
All these extreams, and then remove all Medi­ums,
That each may be the others object.
[Page 19] Enter Mirvan.
My Lord,
Now if your plots be ripe, you are befriended
With opportunity; the King is melancholy,
Apted for any ill impressions.
Make an advantage of the Princes absence,
Urge some suspected cause of his departure,
Use all your art: he's coming.
Exit Mir.
Enter King.
Sir, have you known an action of such glory
Less swell'd with ostentation, or a mind
Less tainted with felicity? 'Tis a rare temper in the Prince.
Is it so rare to see a son so like
His Father? Have not I performed actions
As great, and with as great a moderation?
I Sir, but that's forgotten.
Actions o'th' last Age are like Almanacks o'th' last Year.
'Tis well; but with all his conquests, what I get in Empire
I lose in fame: I think my self no gainer.
But am I quite forgotten?
Sir, you know
Age breeds neglect in all, and actions
Remote in time, like objects
Remote in place, are not beheld at half their greatness;
And what is new, finds better acceptation,
[Page 20] Than what is good or great: yet some old men
Tell Stories of you in their chimney corners.
No otherwise.
They're all so full of him: some magnifie
His courage, some his wit, but all admire
A greatness so familiar.
Sure Haly
Thou hast forgot thy self: art thou a Courtier,
Or I a King? my ears are unacquainted
With such bold truths; especially from thee.
Sir, when I am call'd to't, I must speak
Boldly and plainly.
But with what eagerness, what circum­stance,
Unaskt, thou tak'st such pains to tell me only
My son's the better man.
Sir, where Subjects want the priviledge
To speak; there Kings may have the priviledge,
To live in ignorance.
If 'twere a secret that concern'd my life
Or Empire, then this boldness might become thee;
But such nnnecessary rudeness savours
Of some design.
And this is such a false and squint-eyed praise,
Which seeming to look upwards on his glories,
Looks down uon my fears; I know thou hat'st him;
And like infected persons fain wouldst rub
The ulcer of thy malice upon me.
[Page 21]
Sir, I almost believe you speak your thoughts,
But that I want the guilt to make me fear it.
What mean these guilty blushes then?
Sir, if I blush, it is because you do not,
To upbraid so try'd a servant, that so often
Have wak'd that you might sleep; and been expos'd
To dangers for your safety.
And therefore think'st
Thou art so wrapt, so woven into all
My trusts and counsels, that I now must suffer
All thy Ambition aims at.
Sir, if your love grows weary,
And thinks you have worn me long enough, I'me willing
To be left off; but he's a foolish Sea-man,
That when his Ship is sinking, will not
Unlade his hopes into another bottom.
I understand no Allegories.
And he's as ill a Courtier, that when
His Master's old, desires not to comply
With him that must succeed.
But if
He will not be comply'd with?
Oh Sir,
There's one sure way, and I have known it practiz'd
In other States.
What's that?
To make
The Fathers life the price of the sons favour,
To walk upon the graves of our dead Masters
[Page 22] To our own security.
King starts and scratches his head.
Ha. aside.
'Tis this must take: Does this plainness please you Sir?
Haly: thou know'st my nature, too too apt
To these suspitions; but I hope the question
Was never mov'd to thee.
In other Kindoms, Sir.
But has my Son no such design?
You know I hate him; and should I tell you
He had, you'd say it was but malice.
No more of that good Haly, I know thou lov'st me:
But lest the care of future safety tempt thee
To forfeit present loyalty; or present loyalty
Forfeit thy future safety,
Ile be your reconciler: call him hither:
Oh Sir, I wish he were within my call, or yours.
Why where is he?
He has left the Court, Sir.
I like not these Excursions, why so sud­denly?
'Tis but a sally of youth, yet some say he's discontented.
That grates my heart-strings. What should discontent him?
Except the think I live too long.
[Page 23]
Heaven forbid:
And yet I know no cause of his departure;
I'me sure he's honoured, and lov'd by all;
The Souldiers god, the Peoples Idol.
I, Haly,
The Persians still worship the rising sun.
But who went with him?
None but the Captains.
The Captains? I like not that.
Never fear it, Sir:
'Tis true, they love him but as their General, not their Prince.
And though he be most forward and ambitious,
'Tis temper'd with so much humility.
And so much the more dangerous;
There are some that use
Humility to serve their pride, and seem
Humble upon their way, to be the prouder
At their wisht journeys end.
Sir, I know not
What ways or ends you mean; 'tis true
In popular States, or where the Princes Title
Is weak, & must be propt by the peoples power;
There by familiar ways 'tis necessary
To win on mens affections. But none of these
Can be his end.
But there's another end.
For if his glories rise upon the ruines
Of mine, why not his greatness too?
True Sir,
Ambition is like love, impatient
[Page 24] Both of delays and rivals. But Nature.—
But Empire.—
I had almost forgot Sir, he has
A suit to your Majesty.
What is't?
To give the Turkish prisoners some com­mand
In the next action.
Nay, then 'tis too apparent,
He fears my Subjects loyalty,
And now must call in strangers; come deal plainly,
I know thou canst discover more.
I can discover (Sir)
The depth of your great judgment in such dan­gers.
What shall I do Haly?
Your wisdom is so great, it were pre­sumption for me to advise.
Well, we'll consider more of that, but for the present
Let him with speed be sent for. Mahomet, I thank thee
I have one faithful servant, honest Haly.
Exit King
Enter Mirvan.
How did he take it?
Swallow'd it as greedily
As parched earth drinks rain.
Now the first part of our design is over,
His ruine; but the second, our security,
Must now be thought on.
My Lord, you are too sudden; though his fury
Determine rashly, yet his colder fear
Before it executes, consults with reason,
[Page 25] And that not satisfied with shews, or shadows,
Will ask to be convinc'd by something real;
Now must we frame some plot, and then disco­ver it.
Or intercept some Letter, which our selves
Had forg'd before.
And still admire the miracle,
And thank the providence.
Then we must draw in some body
To be the publick Agent, that may stand
'Twixt us and danger, and the peoples envy.
Who fitter than the grand Caliph?
And he will set a grave religious face
Upon the business.
But if we cannot work him,
For he's so full of foolish scruples;
Or if he should prove false, and then betray us.
Betray us? sure (my Lord) your fear has blinded
Your understanding; for what serves the King?
Will not his threats work more than our per­swasions,
While we look on, and laugh, and seem as igno­rant
As unconcern'd; and thus appearing friends
To either side, on both may work our ends.
Enter Mess.
My Lord, the Turkish Bashaws
Desire access
Admit 'em, I know their business.
[Page 26]
They long to hear with what success
The King in their behalf.
But now they're come, I'le make 'em do you mov'd
Better than I did theirs. my business
Leave us a while.
Ex. Mir.
Enter two Bashaws.
My Lords, my duty and affection to the
And the respects I owe to men of honour,
Extort a secret from me, which yet I grieve to utter:
The Prince departing, left to me the care
Of your affairs, which I, as he commanded,
Have recommended to the King, but with so unlookt for
A success—
1. Bas.
My Lord, fear not to speak our doom, while we
Fear not to hear it: we were lost before,
And can be ready now to meet that fate
We then expected.
Though he that brings unwelcom news
Has but a losing Office, yet he that shews
Your danger first, and then your way to safety,
May heal that wound he made. You know the
With jealous eyes hath ever lookt awry
On his Sons actions, but the fame and glory
Of the last war hath rais'd another spirit;
Envy and Jealousie are twin'd together,
Yet both lay hid in his dissembled smiles,
[Page 27] Like two concealed serpents, till I, unhappy I,
Moving this question, trod upon them both,
And rouz'd their sleeping angers; then casting from him
His doubts, and straight confirm'd in all his fears,
Decrees to you a speedy death, to his own son
A close restraint: but what will follow
I dare not think; you by a sudden flight may find your safety.
2 Bas.
Sir, Death and we are not such stran­gers,
That we should make dishonour, or ingratitude
The price of life; it was the Princes gift,
And we but wear it for his sake and service.
Then for his sake and service
Pray follow my advice: though you have lost the favour
Of your unworthy Master; yet in the Provinces
You lately governed, you have those depen­dances
And interests, that you may raise a power
To serve the Prince: Ile give him timely notice
To stand upon his guard.
1 Bas.
My Lord, we thank you,
But we must give the Prince intelligence,
Both when, and how to imploy us.
If you will write,
Commit it to my care and secrecy,
To see it safe convey'd.
2 Bas.
We shall my Lord.
These men were once the Princes foes, and then
[Page 28] Unwillingly they made him great: but now
Being his friends, shall willingly undo him;
And which is more, be still his friends.
What little Arts govern the world! we need not
An armed enemy, or corrupted friend;
When service but misplac'd, or love mistaken
Performs the work: nor is this all the use
I'le make of them; when once they are in Arms,
Their Master shall be wrought to think these forces
Rais'd against him; and this shall so endear me
To him, that though dull vertue and the gods
O'recome my subtle mischief, I may find
A safe retreat, and may at least be sure,
If not more mighty, to be more secure.
Finis Actus Secundi.

Actus Tertius.

Scena Prima.

Enter King and Haly.
But Haly, what confederates ha's the Prince
In his conspiracy?
Sir, I can yet suspect
None but the Turkish prisoners, and that only
From their late sudden flight.
Are they fled? For what?
That, their own fears best know; their entertainment
I'me sure was such as could not minister
Suspition, or dislike: but sure they're conscious
Of some intended mischief, and are fled
To put it into act.
This still confirms me more;
But let 'em be pursu'd: let all the passages
Be well secur'd, that no intelligence
May pass between the Prince and them.
It shall be done, Sir.
Is the Caliph prepar'd?
[Page 30]
He's without, Sir,
And waits your pleasure.
Call him.
Enter Haly and Caliph.
I have a great design to act, in which
The greatest part is thine. In brief 'tis this,
I fear my Sons high spirit; and suspect
Designs upon my Life and Crown.
Sure, Sir, your fears are causeless;
Such thoughts are strangers to his noble soul.
No, 'tis too true; I must prevent my danger,
And make the first attempt: there's no such way
To avoid a blow, as to strike first, and sure.
But, Sir, I hope my function shall exempt me
From bearing any part in such designs.
Your function! [Laughs] Do you think that Princes
Will raise such men so near themselves for no­thing?
We but advance you to advance our purposes:
Nay, even in all Religions,
Their Learned'st, and their seeming holiest men, but serve
To work their Masters ends; and varnish o're
Their actions, with some specious pious colour:
No scruples; do't, or by our holy Prophet,
The death my rage intends to him, is thine.
Sir, 'tis your part to will, mine to obey.
Then be wise and sudden.
[Page 31] Enter Lords as to Council. Ab. Mor.
My Lords, it grieves me to relate the cause
Of this Assembly; and 'twill grieve you all:
The prince you know stands high in all those graces
Which Nature, seconded by fortune, gives:
Wisdom he ha's, and to his Wisdom Courage;
Temper to that, and unto all, Success. But
Ambition, the disease of Virtue, bred
Like surfets from an undigested fulness,
Meets death in that which is the means of life.
Great Mahomet, to whom our Soveraigns life,
And Empire is most dear, appearing, thus
Advis'd me in a Vision; Tell the King,
The Prince his Son attempts his Life & Crown;
And though no creature lives that more admires
His vertues, nor affects his person more
Than I; yet zeal and duty to my Soveraign
Have cancell'd all respects; nor must we slight
The Prophets Revelations.
Remember, Sir, he is your Son,
Indeared to you by a double bond,
As to his King, and Father.
And the remembrance of that double bond
Doubles my sorrows. 'Tis true,
Nature and duty bind him to Obedience;
But those being placed in a lower sphere,
His fierce ambition, like the highest mover,
Has hurried with a strong impulsive motion
Against their proper course. But since he has for­got
[Page 32] The duty of a son, I can forget
The affections of a Father.
But, Sir, in the beginning of diseases
None try the extreamest remedies.
But when they're sudden,
The cure must be as quick; when I'me dead, you'll say,
My fears have been too slow: Treasons are acted,
Assoon as thought, though they are ne're be­lieved
Until they come to act.
But consider, Sir,
The greatness of the attempt, the people love him;
The lookers on, and the enquiring vulgar
Will talk themselves to action: thus by avoyding
A danger but suppos'd, you tempt a real one.
Those Kings whom envy, or the peo­ples murmur
Deters from their own purposes, deserve not
Nor know not their own greatness;
The peoples murmur, 'tis a sulphurous vapour
Breath'd from the bowels of the basest earth;
And it may soyl, and blast things near it self:
But ere it reach the region we are plac'd in,
It vanishes to ayr; we are above
The sence or danger of such storms.
True Sir, they are but storms while
[Page 33] Stands like a Rock, and the tumultuous vulgar,
Like billows rais'd with wind, (that's with opinion)
May roar, and make a noise, and threaten;
But if they rowl too near, they're dash't in pieces
While they stand firm.
Yet Sir, Crowns are not plac'd so high,
But vulgar hands may reach'em.
Then 'tis when they are plac'd on vul­gar heads.
But Sir,
Look back upon your self; why should your son
Anticipate a hope so near, so certain? we may wish and pray
For your long life: but neither prayers nor power
Can alter Fates decree, or Natures Law.
Why should he ravish then that Diadem
From your gray temples, which the hand of time
Must shortly plant on his?
My Lords,
I see you look upon me as a Sun
Now in his West, half buryed in a cloud,
Whose rays the vapours of approaching night
Have rendred weak and faint: But you shall find
That I can yet shoot beams, whose heat can melt
The waxen wings of this ambitious Boy.
[Page 34] Nor runs my bloud so cold, nor is my arm
So feeble yet, but he that dares defend him,
Shall feel my vengeance, and shall usher me
Into my grave.
Sir, we defend him not,
Only desire to know his crime: 'Tis possible
It may be some mistake, or mis-report,
Some false suggestion, or malicious scandal:
Or if ambition be his fault, 'twas yours;
He had it from you when he had his being:
Nor was't his fault, nor yours, for 'tis in Princes
A crime to want it; from a noble spirit
Ambition can no more be separated,
Than heat from fire: Or if you fear the Vision,
Will you suspect the noble Prince, because
This holy man is troubled in his sleep?
Because his crazy stomach wants concoction,
And breeds ill sumes; or his melancholy spleen
Sends up phantastick vapours to his brain:
Dreams are but dreams, these causeless fears be­come not
Your noble soul.
Who speaks another word
Hath spoke his last: Great Mahomet we thank thee,
Protector of this Empire, and this life,
Thy cares have met my fears; this on pre­sumptions
Strong and apparent, I have long presag'd:
And though a Prince may punish what he fears,
[Page 35] Without account to any but the Gods;
Wise States as often cut off ills that may be,
As those that are; and prevent purposes
Before they come to practise; aud foul practises
Before they grow to act. You cannot but ob­serve
How he dislikes the Court, his rude departure,
His honour from the people and the souldiers,
His seeking to oblige the Turks, his prisoners,
Their sudden and suspected flight:
And above all, his restless towring thoughts.
A Horn winded without.
If the business be important,
Admit him.
Enter Post with a Letter.
Sir, upon your late command
To guard the passages, and search all packets,
This to the Prince was intercepted.
King opens it, and reads it to him self
Here Abdal, read it.
Abdal reads.
The Letter.
reads. Sir, we are assured how unnaturally your fathers intentions
Are towards you, and how cruel towards us; we have
Made an escape, not so much to seek our own,
As to be instruments of your safety: We will be
In arms upon the borders, upon your command,
Either to seek danger with you, or to receive you
If you please, to seek safety with us.
[Page 36]
Now my Lords,
Alas my fears are causless, and ungrounded,
Fantastick dreams, and melancholick fumes
Of crazy stomacks, and distempered brains:
Has this convinc'd you?
Sir, we see
Some reason you should fear, but whom, we know not;
'Tis possible these Turks may play the Villains,
Knowing the Prince, the life of all our hopes,
Staff of our Age, and pillar of our Empire;
And having fail'd by force, may use this Art
To ruine him, and by their treason here
To make their peace at home.
Now should this prove a truth, when he ha's suffered
Death, or disgrace, which are to him the same;
'Twill be too late to say you were mistaken;
And then to cry him mercy: Sir, we beseech you
A while suspend your doom, till time produce
Her wonted off-spring, Truth.
And so expecting
The event of what you think, shall prove the experiment
Of what I fear; but since he is my son,
I cannot have such violent thoughts toward him,
As his towards me: he only shall remain
A prisoner till his death or mine enlarge him.
Ex. Lords. Man. Haly.
[Page 37] Solyman peeps in.
Away, away, we're serious.
But not so serious to neglect your safety.
Art thou in earnest?
Nay Sir, I can be serious as well as my betters.
What's the matter?
No, I am an inconsiderable fellow, and know nothing.
Let's hear that nothing then.
The Turks, Sir.
What of them?
When they could not overcome you by force, they'll
Do it by treachery.
As how?
Nay I can see as far into a milstone, as another man.
They have corrupted some ill-affected persons.
What to do?
To nourish Jealousies 'twixt you and your Son.
My son! Where is he?
They say he's posting hither.
Haly, we are betrayed, prevented, look to the Ports, and let
The Guards be doubled: how far's his Army hence?
Is the City in arms to joyn with him?
Arms? and joyn with him? I understand you not.
[Page 38]
Didst thou not say the Prince was com­ing?
I heard some foolish people say you had sent for
Him, as a Traytor, which to my apprehension was on
Purpose spoken to make you odious, and him desperate;
And so divide the people into faction. A Plot of
Dangerous consequence, as I take it, Sir.
And is this all, thou sawcy trifling fool?
Sir, this seeming fool is a concealed dan­gerous knave;
Under that safe disguise he thinks he may say or do
Any thing: you'll little think him the chief conspirator,
The only spy t'inform the Prince of all is done in Court.
Let him be rack't, till he confess
The whole conspiracy.
Rackt! I have told you all I know, and more;
There's nothing more in me, Sir, but may be squeezed
Out without racking, only a stoop or two of Wine;
And if there had not been too much of that, you had
Not had so much of the other.
That's your cunning, sirrah.
[Page 39]
Cunning, Sir! I am no Polititian; and was ever thought to have
Too little wit; and too much plain dealing for a States-man.
Away with him.
But somthing must be done, Sir, to satisfie the people:
'Tis not enough to say he did design,
Or plot, or think, but did attempt some vio­lence;
And then some strange miraculous escape:
For which our Prophet must have publick thanks:
And this false colour shall delude the eyes
Of the amazed vulgar.
'Tis well advis'd.
Enter Mess.
Sir, His Highness is return'd.
And unconstrain'd? But with what change of countenance
Did he receive the message?
With some amazement;
But such as sprung from wonder, not from fear;
It was so unexpected.
Leave us.
Haly, I ever found thee honest; truer to me
Than mine own bloud, and now's the time to shew it:
For thou art he my love and trust hath chosen
To put in action my design: surprize him
[Page 40] As he shall pass the Galleries. I'le place
A guard behind the Arras; when thou hast him,
Since blinded with ambition, he did soar
Like a seel'd Dove; his crime shall be his pu­nishment
To be depriv'd of sight, which see perform'd
With a hot steel: Now as thou lov'st my safety
Be resolute, and sudden.
'Tis severe;
But yet I dare not intercede, it shall be done:
But is that word irrevocable?
I, as years, or ages past; relent not, if thou do'st—
Exit King.
Enter Mirvan.
Why so melancholy? is the design dis­covered?
No, but I am made the instrument,
That still endeavoured to disguise my plots
With borrowed looks, and make 'em walk in darkness,
To act 'em now my self; be made the mark
For all the peoples hate, the Princess curses,
And his sons rage, or the old Kings inconstancy.
For this to Tyranny belongs,
To forget service, but remember wrongs.
But could not you contrive
Some fine pretence to cast it on some other?
No, he dare trust no other: had I given
But the least touch of any private quarrel,
My malice to his son, not care of him,
[Page 41] Had then begot this service.
'Tis but t'other plot, my Lord; you know
The King by other wives had many sons:
Soffy is but a Child, and you already
Command the Emperours Guard; procure for me
The Government o'th' City; when he dies,
Urge how unfortunate those States have been
Whose Princes are but children: then set the Crown
Upon some others head, that may acknowledge
And owe the Empire to your gift.
It shall be done; Abdal, who commands
The City, is the Princes friend, and therefore
Must be displac'd, and thou shalt straight suc­ceed him.
Thou art my better Genius, honest Mirvan;
Greatness we owe to Fortune, or to Fate;
But wisdom only can secure that state.
Ex. Enter Prince at one door, and Princess at another.
You're double welcom now (my Lord) your coming
Was so unlookt for.
To me I'me sure it was;
Know'st thou the cause? for sure it was impor­tant,
That calls me back so suddenly.
I am so ignorant,
I knew not you were sent for.
Waking I know no cause, but in my sleep
My fancy still presents such dreams, and terrors,
[Page 42] As did Andromache's the night before
Her Hector fell; but sure 'tis more than fancy.
Either our Guardian Angels, or the Gods
Inspire us, or some natural instinct
Fore-tells approaching dangers.
How does my Father?
Still talks and plays with Fatyma, but his mirth
Is forc'd, and strain'd: In his look appears
A wild distracted fierceness; I can read
Some dreadful purpose in his face; but where
This dismal cloud will break, and spend his fury,
I dare not think: pray heaven make false his fears.
Sometimes his anger breaks through all disguises,
And spares not gods, nor men; and then he seems
Jealous of all the world: suspects, and starts,
And looks behind him.
Enter Morat, as in haste.
Sir, with hazard of my life I've ventur'd
To tell you, you are lost, betray'd, undone;
Rouze up your courage, call up all your coun­sels,
And think on all those stratagems which nature
Keeps ready to encounter sudden dangers.
But pray (my Lord) by whom? for what offence?
Is it a time for story, when each minute
Begets a thousand dangers? the gods protect you.
[Page 43]
This man was ever honest, and my friend,
And I can see in his amazed look,
Something of danger; but in act or thought,
I never did that thing should make me fear it.
Nay, good Sir, let not so secure a confidence
Betray you to your ruine.
Prethee woman
Keep to thy self thy fears, I cannot know
That there is such a thing; I stand so strong,
Inclosed with a double guard of Vertue,
And Innocence, that I can look on dangers,
As he that stands upon a Rock
Can look on storms and tempests. Fear & guilt
Are the same thing; & when our actions are not,
Our fears are crimes.
And he deserves it less that guilty bears
A punishment, than he that guiltless fears.
Ex. Enter Haly and Torturers.
This is the place appointed, assist me courage!
This hour ends all my fears; but pause a while:
Suppose I should discover to the Prince
The whole conspiracy, and so retort it
Upon the King; it were an handsom plot,
But full of difficulties, and uncertain;
And he's so fool'd with down-right honesty,
He'l ne're believe it; and now 'tis too late;
The guards are set, and now I hear him coming.
[Page 44]Enter Prince, stumbles at the entrance.
'Tis ominous, but I will on; de­struction
O'retakes as often those that fly, as those that boldly meet it.
By your leave Prince, your father greets you.
Unhand me traytors.
[Haly casts a scarf over his face.]
That title is your own, and we are sent to let you know it.
Is not that the voice of Haly that thun­ders in my ears?
I, vertuous Prince, I come to make you exercise
One vertue more, your patience.
[Heat the Irons quickly.]
Insolent villain, for what cause?
Only to gaze upon a while, until your eyes are out.
O villain, shall I not see my Father,
To ask him what's my crime? who my accusers?
Let me but rry if I can wake his pity
From his Lethargick sleep.
It must not be, Sir.
Shall I not see my wife, nor bid fare­well
To my dear Children?
Your pray'rs are all in vain.
Thou shalt have half my Empire Haly, let me but
[Page 45] See the Tyrant, that before my eyes are lost,
They may dart poys'nous flashes like the Basi­lisk,
And look him dead: These eyes that still were open,
Or to fore-see, or to prevent his dangers,
Must they be closed in eternal night?
Cannot his thirst of bloud be satisfied
With any but his own? And can his tyranny
Find out no other object but his Son?
I seek not mercy; tell him, I desire
To die at once, not to consume an age
In lingring deaths.
Our ears are charm'd: Away with him.
Can ye behold (ye Gods) a wronged Innocent?
Or sleeps your Justice, like my Fathers Mercy?
Or are you blind? as I must be.
Finis Actus Tertii.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Abd. and Morat.
I ever fear'd the Princes too much great­ness
Would make him less: the greatest heights are near
The greatest precipice.
'Tis in worldly accidents
As in the world it self, where things most distant
Meet one another: Thus the East and West,
Upon the Globe, a Mathematick point
Only divides: Thus happiness and misery,
And all extreams are still contiguous.
Or, if 'twixt happiness and misery there be
A distance, 'tis an Aery Vacuum;
Nothing to moderate, or break the fall.
But oh this Saint-like Devil!
This damned Caliph, to make the King believe
To kill his son, 's religion.
Poor Princes, how are they mis-led!
While they, whose sacred Office 'tis to bring
Kings to obey their God, and men their King;
By these mysterious links to fix and tie
Them to the foot-stool of the Deity;
Even by these men, Religion, that should be
[Page 45] The curb, is made the spur to tyranny:
They with their double key of conscience bind
The Subjects souls, and leave Kings unconfin'd;
While their poor Vassals sacrifice their blouds
T' Ambition; and to Avarice, their goods:
Blind with Devotion. They themselves esteem
Made for themselves, and all the world for them;
While heavens great Law, given for their guide, appears
Just, or unjust, but as it waits on theirs:
Us'd, but to give the eccho to their words,
Power to their wills and edges to their swords.
To varnish all their errors, and secure
The ills they act, and all the world endure.
Thus by their arts Kings aw the world, while they,
Religion, as their Mistress, seem t' obey;
Yet as their slave command her: while they seem
To rise to heaven, they make heaven stoop to them.
Nor is this all, where feign'd devotion bends
The highest things, to serve the lowest ends:
For if the many-headed beast hath broke,
Or shaken from his neck the royal yoke,
With popular rage, Religion doth conspire,
Flows into that, and swells the torrent higher;
[Page 46] Then powers first pedigree from force derives,
And calls to mind the old prerogatives
Of free-born man; and with a saucy eye
Searches the heart and soul of Majesty:
Then to a strict account, and censure brings
The actions, errors, and the end of Kings;
Treads on authority, and sacred Laws;
Yet all for God, and his pretended cause,
Acting such things for him, which he in them,
And which themselves in others will condemn;
And thus engag'd, nor safely can retire,
Nor safely stand, but blindly bold aspire,
Forcing their hopes, even through despair, to climb
To new attempts; disdain the present time,
Grow from disdain to threats, from threats to arms;
While they (though sons of peace) still sound th' alarms:
Thus whether Kings or people seek extreams,
Still conscience and religion are their Theams:
And whatsoever change the State invades,
The pulpit either forces, or perswades.
Others may give the fewel, or the fire;
But they the breath, that makes the flame, in­spire.
This, and much more is true, but let not us
Add to our ills, and aggravate misfortunes
By passionate complaints, nor lose our selves,
Because we have lost him; for if the Tyrant
[Page 47] Were to a son so noble, so unnatural;
What will he be to us, who have appear'd
Friends to that son?
Well thought on, and in time;
Farewel unhappy Prince, while we thy friends,
As strangers to our Countrey, and our selves,
Seek out our safety, and expect with patience
Heavens Justice.
Let's rather act it, than expect it:
The Princes injuries at our hands require
More than our tears, and patience:
His Army is not yet disbanded,
And only wants a head; thither we'll fly,
And all who love the Prince, or hate the Tyrant,
Will follow us.
Nobly resolv'd; and either we'll restore
The Prince, or perish in the brave attempt.
Ye Gods, since what we mean to execute,
Is your high office (to avenge the innocent)
Assist us with a fortune, equal to
The justice of our action; lest the world
Should think it self deluded, and mistrust
That you want will, or power to be just.
Enter Haly.
'Tis done, and 'twas my master-piece, to work
My safety 'twixt two dangerous extreams;
Now like a skilful sayler have I past
[Page 48] Scylla and Charybdis, I have scap't the rock
Of steep Ambition, and the gulf of Jealousie,
A danger less avoyded, 'cause less fear'd.
Enter Mirvan.
What's done, my Lord?
Enough, I warrant you; imprison'd, and depriv'd of sight.
No more? This but provokes him: Can you think
Your self secure, and he alive?
The rest o'th' business will do it self;
He can as well endure a prison, as a wild Bull the net:
There let him struggle, and toyl himself to death,
And save us so much envy.
But if his Father should relent, such in­juries
Can receive no excuse or colour, but to be
Transfer'd upon his Counsellours; and then
The forfeiture of them redeems his errour.
We must set a mark upon his passion,
And as we find it running low,
What ebbs from his, into our rage shall flow.
Why, should we be more wicked
Than we must needs?
Nay, if you stick at Conscience,
More gallant actions have been lost, for want of being
Compleatly wicked, than have been perform'd
[Page 49] By being exactly vertuous. 'Tis hard to be
Exact in good, or excellent in ill;
Our will wants power, or else our power wants skill.
Enter Solyman, and Tormentors.
But Gentlemen, was the King in earnest?
I can scarce believe it.
You will when you feel it.
I pray, have any of you felt it, to tell me what it is?
No, Sir, but
Some of your fellow Courtiers can tell you,
That use something like it, to mend their shapes.
'Twill make you so straight and slender!
Slender! because I was slender in my wits, must I be drawn
Slender in my waste? I'de rather grow wise,
And corpulent, like him they call Abdomen.
Come, Sir, 'tis but a little stretching.
No, no more's hanging; and sure this will be the death of me:
I remember my Grandmother died of Convulsi­on fits.
Come, Sir, prepare, prepare.
I, for another world: I must repent firk.
Quickly then.
Then first I repent that sin of being a Courtier.
[Page 50] And secondly, the greatest sin one can commit in that place, the speaking of truth.
Have you no more sins?
Some few trifles more, not worth the re­membring;
Drinking, and whoring, and swearing, and such like:
But for those let 'em pass.
Have you done now?
Only some good counsel to the standers▪ by.
We thank you for that, Sir.
Nay, Gentlemen, mistake me not;
'Tis not that I love you, but because 'tis a thing of course
For dying men.
Let's have it then.
First then, if any of you are fools (as I think that
But a needless question) be fools still, and labour still
In that vocation, then the worst will be but whipping;
Where, but for seeming wise, the best is racking.
But if you have the luck to be Court-fools, those that have
Either wit or honesty, you may fool withal, and spare not:
But for those that want either,
You'll find it rather dangerous than otherwise;
I could give you a modern
[Page 51] Instance or two, but let that pass: but if you happen to be State-fools, then 'tis
But fooling on the right side, and all's well; then you shall at least be
Wise mens fellows, if not wise mens masters.
But of all things take heed of giving any man good counsel,
You see what I have got by it; and yet like a foo, must
I be doing on't again.
Is this all?
All, but a little in my own behalf. Re­member, Gentlemen,
I am at full growth, and my joynts are knit; and yet
My sinews are not Cables.
Well, we'll remember't.
But stay, Gentlemen, what think you of a bottle now?
I hope you are more serious.
If you knew but how dry a thing this sor­row is,
Especially meeting with my constitution; which is
As thirsty as any Serving-mans.
Let him have it, it may be 'twill make him confess.
Yes, I shall, I shall lay before you all that's within me,
And with most fluent utterance.
[Page 52] Here's to you all Gentlemen, and let him that's good
Natur'd in his drink, pledge me.
So, me-thinks I feel it in my joynts already,
It makes 'em supple.
[Drinks again.]
Now I feel it in my brains, it makes 'em swim.
Hold, Sir, you have no measure of your self.
What do you talk of measure, you'll take
Measure of me with a vengeance?
You are witty, Sir.
Nothing but a poor clinch;
I have a thousand of them (a trick I learn't amongst the States-men.)
[Drinks again.]
Well rack, I defie thee, do thy worst;
I would thou wer't Man, Gyant, or Monster.
Gentlemen, now if I happen to fall asleep
Upon this Engine, pray wake me not too sud­denly;
You see here's good store of wine, and if it be
Over-rackt, 'twill come up with lees and all;
There I was with you again, and now I am for you.
Enter Prince, being blind, solus.
How didst thou mock mankind to make him free
And yet to make him fear; or when he lost
That freedom, why did he not lose his fear?
[Page 53] That fear of fears, the fear of what we know not,
While yet we know it is in vain to fear it:
Death, and what follows death, 'twas that that stamp't
A terrour on the brow of Kings; that gave
Fortune her Deity, and Iove his thunder.
Banish but fear of death, those Giant names
Of Majesty, Power, Empire, finding nothing
To be their object, will be nothing too:
Then he dares yet be free that dares to die,
May laugh at the grim face of Law and scorn,
The cruel wrinkle of a Tyrants brow:
But yet to die so tamely,
O'recome by passion and misfortune,
And still unconquer'd by my foes, sounds ill;
Below the temper of my spirit:
Yet to embrace a life so poor, so wretched,
So full of deaths, argues a greater dulness;
But I am dead already, nor can suffer
More in the other world. For what is Hell,
But a long sleepless night? and what's their torment,
But to compare past joyes with present sorrows?
And what can death deprive me of? the sight
Of day, of children, friends, and hope of Empire;
And whatsoever others lose in death,
In life I am depriv'd of; then I will live
Only to die reveng'd: nor will I go
Down to the shades alone.
Prompt me some witty, some revengeful Devil,
[Page 54] His Devil that could make a bloudy feast
Of his own son, and call the gods his guests;
Her's that could kill her aged Sire, and cast
Her Brothers scatter'd limbs to Wolves and Vul­tures;
Or his that slew his Father, to enjoy
His mothers bed; and greater than all those,
My fathers Devil.
Come mischief, I embrace thee; fill my soul:
And thou Revenge ascend, and bear the Scepter
O're all my passions; banish thence
All that are cool, and tame.
Know old Tyrant,
My heart's too big to break, I know thy fears
Exceed my sufferings; and my revenge,
Though but in hope, is much a greater pleasure
Than thou canst take in punishing. Then my anger
Sink to the Center of my heart, and there
Lie close in ambush, till my seeming patience
Hath made the cruel Tyrant as secure,
Though with as little cause, as now he's jealous.
Whose there?
Enter two or three.
I find my nature would return
To her old course, I feel an inclination
To some repose; welcome thou pleasing slumber:
A while embrace me in thy leaden arms,
And charm my careful thoughts:
Conduct me to my bed.
[Page 55]Enter King, Haly and Caliph.
How do's the Prince? how bears he his restraint?
Why, Sir, as all great spirits
Bear great and sudden changes, with such impa­tience
As a Numidian Lion, when first caught,
Endures the toyl that holds him.
He would think of nothing
But present death, and sought all violent means
To compass it. But time hath mitigated
Those furious heats, he now returns to food
And sleep, admits the conversation
Of those that are about him.
I would I had not
So easily believ'd my fears, I was too sudden;
I would it were undone.
If you lament it,
That which now looks like Justice, will be thought
An inconsiderate rashness.
But there are in nature
Such strong returns! That I punisht him,
I do not grieve; but that he was my Son.
But it concerns you to bear up your passion,
And make it good; for if the people know,
That you have cause to grieve for what is done,
[Page 56] They'll think you had no cause at first to do it.
King to the Ca.
Go visit him from me, and teach him patience;
Since neither all his fury, nor my sorrow
Can help what's past, tell him my severity
To him shall in some measure be requited,
By my indulgence to his children. And if he de­sire it,
Let them have access to him: endeavour to take off
His thoughts from revenge, by telling him of
Paradise, and I know not what pleasures
In the other world.
I shall, Sir.
Ex. King and C. Ma. Haly. Enter Mirvan.
Mirvan, The King relents, and now there's left
No refuge but the last; he must be poysoned:
And suddenly, lest he survive his Father.
But handsomly, lest it appear.
To whom? you know there's none about him
But such as I have plac't; and they shall say
'Twas discontent, or abstinence.
But at the best
'Twill be suspected.
Why though 't be known,
We'll say he poysoned himself.
But the curious will pry further
Than bare report, and the old King's suspitions▪
Have piercing eyes.
[Page 57]
But those nature
Will shortly close: you see his old disease
Grows strong upon him.
But if he should recover?
But I have cast his Nativity; he cannot, he must not.
I'th' mean time I have so besieg'd him,
So blockt up all the passages, and plac'd
So many Centinels and Guards upon him,
That no intelligence can be convey'd
But by my instruments. But this business will require
More heads and hands than ours: Go you to the prison,
And bring the Keeper privately to me,
To give him his instructions.
Ex. several ways.
Enter Prince and Caliph.
Sir, I am commanded by the King
To visit you.
What, to give a period to my life,
And to his fears? You're welcome; here's a throat,
A heart, or any other part, ready to let
In death, and receive his commands.
My Lord, I am no messenger, nor minister of death,
'Tis not my function.
I should know that voice.
[Page 58]
I am the Caliph, and am come to tell you▪ your Father
Is now return'd to himself: Nature ha's got
The victory o're passion, all his rigour
Is turn'd to grief and pity.
Alas good man!
I pity him, and his infirmities;
His doubts, and fears, and accidents of age,
Which first provok'd his cruelty.
He bid me tell you,
His love to yours should amply recompence
His cruelty to you: And I dare say 'tis real;
For all his thoughts, his pleasures, and delights▪
Are fixt on Fatyma: when he is sad,
She comforts him; when sick, she's his Physitian.
And were it not for the delight he takes
In her, I think hee'd die with sorrow.
But how, are his affections fixt so strangely
On her alone? sure 'tis not in his nature;
For then he had lov'd me, or hated her,
Because she came from me.
'Tis her desert,
She's fair beyond comparison, and witty
Above her age; and bears a manly spirit
Above her sex.
But may not I admire her?
Is that too great a happiness? pray let her make it
Her next suit to be permitted to visit me her self.
[Page 59]
She shall, Sir: I joy to see your mind
So well compos'd; I fear'd I should have found
A tempest in your soul, and came to lay it.
I'le to the King;
I know to him that news will be
Most acceptable.
Pray do, and tell him
I have cast off all my passions, and am now
A man again; fit for society
And conversation.
I will Sir.
I never knew my self till now; how on the sudden
I'me grown an excellent dissembler, to out-do
One at the first, that has practiz'd it all his life:
So now I am my self again, what is 't
I feel within? Me thinks some vast design
Now takes possession of my heart, and swells
My labouring thoughts above the common bounds
Of humane actions, something full of horror
My soul hath now decreed, my heart does beat,
As if 'twere forging thunder-bolts for Iove,
To strike the Tyrant dead: So now, I have it,
I have it, 'tis a gallant mischief,
Worthy my Father, or my Fathers Son.
All his delight's in Fatyma, poor innocent!
But not more innocent than I, and yet
My Father loves thee, and that's crime enough.
By this act, old Tyrant,
[Page 60] I shall be quit with thee: while I was virtuous,
I was a stranger to thy bloud, but now
Sure thou wilt love me for this horrid crime,
It is so like thy own. In this I'm sure,
Although in nothing else, I am thy Son:
But when 'tis done, I leave him yet that remedy
I take my self, Revenge; but I as well
Will rob him of his anger, as his joy,
And having sent her to the shades,
I'le follow her.
But to return again, and dwell
In his dire thoughts, for there's the blacker hell.
Enter Messenger.
Sir, your wife the Princess is come to visit you.
Conduct her in; now to my disguise again.
Enter Princess.
Is this my Lord the Prince?
That's Erythaea,
Or some Angel voyc't like her. 'Tis she, my strugling soul
Would fain go out to meet and welcome her.
No answer but in sighs (dear Erythaea?)
Thou cam'st to comfort, to support my suffer­ings,
Not to oppress me with a greater weight,
To see that my Unhappiness
Involves thee too.
[Page 61]
My Lord, in all your triumphs and your glories,
You call'd me into all your joys, and gave me
An equal share, and in this depth of misery
Can I be unconcern'd? you needs must know,
You needs must hope I cannot; or which is worse,
You must suspect my love: for what is love
But sympathy? And this I make my happiness,
Since both cannot be happy,
That we can both be miserable.
I prithee do not say thou lov'st me;
For love, or finds out equals, or makes 'em so:
But I am so cast down, and fal'n so low,
I cannot rise to thee, and dare not wish
Thou should'st descend to me; but call it pity,
And I will own it then, that Kings may give
To beggars, and not lessen their own greatness▪
Till now I thought virtue had stood above
The reach of fortune; but if virtue be not,
Yet love's a greater Deity: whatever fortune
Can give or take, love wants not, or despises;
Or by his own omnipotence supplies:
Then like a God with joy beholds
The beauty of his own Creations.
Thus what we form and image to our fancies,
We really possess.
But can thy imagination
Delude it self, to fix upon an object
[Page 62] So lost in miseries, so old in sorrows;
Paleness and death hang on my cheek, and darkness
Dwells in my eyes; more chang'd from what I was
In person than in fortune.
Yet still the same to me:
Alas my Lord, these outward beauties are but the props and scaffolds
On which we built our love, which now made perfect,
Stands without those supports: nor is my flame
So earthy as to need the dull material fuel
Of eyes, or lips, or cheeks, still to be kindled,
And blown by appetite, or else t' expire:
My fires are purer, and like those of Heaven,
Fed only, and contented with themselves,
Need nothing from without.
But the disgrace that waites upon mis­fortune,
The meer reproach, the shame of being mise­rable,
Exposes men to scorn and base contempt,
Even from their nearest friends.
Love is so far from scorning misery,
That he delights in 't, and is so kindly cruel,
Sometimes to wish it, that he may be alone;
In stead of all, of fortunes, honours, friends, which are
But meer diversions from loves proper object,
[Page 63] Which only it is self.
Thou hast almost
Taught me to love my miseries, and forgive
All my misfortunes. I'le at least forget 'em;
We will revive those times, and in our memo­ries
Preserve, and still keep fresh (like flowers in water)
Those happier days: when at our eyes our souls
Kindled their mutual fires, their equal beams
Shot and returned, till linkt, and twin'd in one,
They chain'd our hearts together.
And was it just, that fortune should begin
Her tyranny, where we began our loves?
No, if it had, why was not I blind too?
I'm sure if weeping could have don't, I had been.
Think not that I am blind, but think it night,
A season for our loves, and which to lovers
Ne're seems too long; and think of all our mise­ries,
But as some melancholy dream which has a­wak't us,
To the renewing of our joys.
My Lord, this is a temper
Worthy the old Philosophers.
I but repeat that lesson
[Page 64] Which I have learnt from thee. All this morality
Thy love hath taught me.
My Lord, you wrong your virtue,
T' ascribe the effect of that to any cause
Less noble than it self.
And you your love,
To think it is less noble, or less powerful,
Than any the best virtue: and I fear thy love
Will wrong it self; so long a stay will make
The jealous King suspect we have been plotting:
How do the pledges of our former love;
Our Children?
Both happy in their Grandsires love, especially
The pretty Fatyma; yet she
According to her apprehension feels
A sence of your misfortunes.
But let her not too much express it,
Lest she provoke his fury.
She only can allay it
When 'tis provok't; she
Plays with his rage, and gets above his anger;
As you have seen a little boat
To mount and dance upon the wave, that threatens
To overwhelm it.
To threaten is to save, but his anger
Strikes us like thunder, where the blow out-flies
The loud report, and even prevents mens fears.
But then like thunder
[Page 65] It rends a Cedar, or an Oak, or finds
Some strong resisting matter; women and chil­dren
Are not Subjects worthy a Princes anger.
Is worthy of their love is worth their anger.
Love's a more natural motion; they are angry
As Princes, but love as men.
Once more I beg,
Make not thy love thy danger.
My Lord, I see with what unwilling­ness
You lay upon me this command, and through your fears
Discern your love, and therefore must obey you.
Farewell my dearest Erythaea.
There's a strange musick in her voice, the story
Of Orpheus, which appears so bold a fiction,
Was prophecy'd of thee; thy voyce has tam'd
The Tygers and the Lions of my soul.
Enter Messenger.
Sir, your daughter Fatyma.
Conduct her in; how strangely am I tempted
With opportunity, which like a sudden gust
Hath swell'd my calmer thoughts into a tem­pest?
Accursed opportunity!
[Page 66] The Midwife and the Bawd to all our vices,
That work'st our thoughts into desires, desires
To resolutions; those being ripe, and quickned,
Thou giv'st 'em birth, and bring'st 'em forth to action.
Enter Fat. and Messenger.
Leave us, O opportunity!
That when my dire and bloudy resolutions,
Like sick and froward children
Were rockt asleep by reason or religion,
Thou like a violent noise cam'st rushing in,
And mak'st 'em wake and start to new unquiet­ness.
Come hither, pretty Fatyma,
Thy Grandsires darling, sit upon my knee:
He loves thee dearly.
I, Father, for your sake.
And for his sake I shall requite it.
O virtue, virtue,
Where art thou fled? thou wert my Reasons friend;
But that like a deposed Prince has yielded
His Scepter to his base usurping vassals;
And like a traytor to himself, takes pleasure
In serving them.
But Father,
I desir'd him that you might have liberty, and that
He would give you your eyes again.
Pretty Innocence!
[Page 67] 'Tis not i'th' art, nor power of man to do it.
Must you never see again then, Father?
No, not without a miracle.
Why Father, I can see with one eye, pray take one
Of mine.
I would her innocent prate could overcome me:
O what a conflict do I feel! how am I
Tost like a ship 'twixt two encountring tides!
Love that was banisht hence, would fain return
And force an entrance, but revenge
(That's now the Porter of my soul) is deaf,
Deaf as the Adder, and as full of poyson.
Mighty revenge! that single canst o'rethrow
All those joynt powers, which nature, vertue, honour,
Can raise against thee.
What do you seek for, your handker­chief? pray use mine;
To drink the bloudy moisture from your eyes;
I'le shew't my Grandfather,
I know 'twill make him weep.
Why do you shake Father?
Just so my Grandsire trembled at the instant
Your sight was ta'ne away.
And upon the like occasion.
O Father, what means the naked knife?
'Tis to requite thy Grandsires love. Prepare
[Page 68] To meet thy death.
O, 'tis I, 'tis I,
Your daughter Fatyma!
I therefore do it.
Alas, was this the blessing my mother sent me to receive?
Thy Mother! Erythaea! There's some­thing in that
That shakes my resolution.
Poor Erythaea, how wretched shall I make thee,
To rob thee of a Husband and a Child?
But which is worse, that first I fool'd and won thee
To a belief that all was well; and yet
Shall I forbear a crime for love of thee,
And not for love of virtue? But what's virtue?
A meer imaginary sound, a thing
Of speculation; which to my dark soul,
Depriv'd of reason, is as indiscernable
As colours to my body, wanting sight.
Then being left to sense, I must be guided
By something that my sense grasps and takes hold of;
On then my love, and fear not to encounter
That Gyant, my revenge (alas poor Fatyma)
My Father loves thee, so do's Erythaea:
Whether shall I by justly plaguing
Him whom I hate, be more unjustly cruel
To her I love? Or being kind to her,
Be cruel to my self, and leave unsatisfied
[Page 69] My anger and revenge? but Love, thou art
The nobler passion, and to thee I sacrifice
All my ungentle thoughts. Fatyma forgive me,
And seal it with a kiss: What is't I feel?
The spirit of revenge re-inforcing
New Arguments. Fly Fatyma,
Fly while thou may'st, nor tempt me to new mischief,
By giving means to act it; to this ill
My will leads not my power, but power my will.
Ex. Fat.
O what a tempest have I scap't, thanks to Hea­ven,
And Erythaea's love!
No: 'twas a poor, a low revenge, unworthy
My virtues, or my injuries, and
As now my fame, so then my infamy,
Would blot out his; And I in stead of his Em­pire,
Shall only be the heir of all his curses.
No: I'le be still my self, and carry with me
My innocence to th' other world, and leave
My fame to this: 'twill be a brave revenge
To raise my mind to a constancy, so high,
That may look down upon his threats, my pati­ence
Shall mock his fury; nor shall he be so happy
To make me miserable: and my sufferings shall
Erect a prouder Trophy to my name,
Than all my prosperous actions: Every Pilot
[Page 70] Can steer the ship in calms, but he performs
The skilful part, can manage it in storms.
Finis Actus Quarti.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Prince.
If happiness be a substantial good,
Not fram'd of accidents, nor subject to 'em,
I err'd to seek it in a blind revenge,
Or think it lost in loss of sight, or Empire;
'Tis something sure within us, not subjected
To sense or sight, only to be discern'd
By reason, my soul's eye, and that still sees
Clearly, and clearer for the want of these;
For gazing through these windows of the body,
It met such several, such distracting objects;
But now confin'd within it self, it sees
A strange, and unknown world, and there disco­vers
Torrents of Anger, Mountains of Ambition;
Gulfes of Desire, and Towers of Hope, huge Giants,
Monsters, and savage Beasts; to vanquish these,
Will be a braver conquest than the old
[Page 71] Or the new world.
O happiness of blindness! now no beauty
Inflames my lust, no others good, my envy,
Or misery, my pity: no mans wealth
Draws my respect, nor poverty my scorn;
Yet still I see enough. Man to himself
Is a large prospect, rays'd above the level
Of his low creeping thoughts; if then I have
A world within my self, that world shall be
My Empire; there I'le raign, commanding freely,
And willingly obey'd, secure from fear
Of forraign forces, or domestick treasons,
And hold a Monarchy more free, more absolute
Than in my Fathers seat; and looking down
With scorn or pity, on the slippery state
Of Kings, will tread upon the neck of Fate.
Enter Bashaws disguis'd, with Haly.
1. Bash.
Sir, 'tis of near concernment, and im­ports
No less than the Kings life and honour.
May not I know it?
You may, Sir. But in his presence we are sworn
T' impart it first to him.
Our Persian State descends not
To Interviews with strangers: But from whence
Comes this discovery, or you that bring it?
2. Bash.
[Page 72]
We are, Sir, of Natolia.
Ha. Natolia?
Heard you nothing
Of two Villains that lately fled from hence?
1. Bash.
The Bashaws, Sir?
The same.
2. Bash.
They are nearer than you think for.
1. Bash.
In Persia.
In arms again to 'tempt another slavery?
2. Bash.
No, Sir, they made some weak at­tempts, presuming on
The reputation of their former greatness:
But having lost their fame and fortunes,
'Tis no wonder they lost their friends; now hopeless and forlorn
They are return'd, and somewhere live ob­scurely,
To expect a change in Persia; nor wil't be hard
To find 'em.
Do't, and name your own rewards.
2. Bash.
We dare do nothing till we have seen the King.
And then you shall command us.
Well, though 'tis not usual,
Ye shall have free access.
Exit Haly.
Enter King and Haly.
1. Bash.
Sir, there were two Turkish priso­ners lately fled
From hence for a suppos'd conspiracy
Between the Prince and them.
[Page 73]
Where are the Villaines?
1. Bash.
This is the Villain,
They pull off their disguises.
And we the wrongfully accus'd:
You gave life Sir,
And we took it
As a free noble gift; but when we heard
'Twas valued at the price of your Sons honour,
We came to give it back, as a poor trifle,
Priz'd at a rate too high.
Haly, I cannot think my favours plac'd so ill,
To be so ill requited; yet their confidence
Has something in't that looks like innocence.
aside. Is't come to that? then to my last and surest refuge.
Sure if the guilt were theirs, they could not charge thee
With such a gallant boldness: If 'twere thine,
Thou could'st not hear't with such a silent scorn;
I am amaz'd.
Sir, perplex your thoughts no further,
They have truth to make 'em bold;
And I have power to scorn it: 'twas I, Sir,
That betray'd him, and you, and them.
Is this impudence, or madness?
A very sober, and sad truth—to you, Sir.
A Guard there.
Enter Mirvan, and others.
Seize him.
[Page 74]
Seize them; now
Though 'tis too late to learn, yet know
'Gainst you are King again, what 'tis to let your Subjects
Dispose all offices of trust and power:
The beast obeys his keeper, and looks up,
Not to his masters, but his feeders hand;
And when you gave me power to dispense
And make your favours mine, in the same hour
You made your self my shadow: and 'twas my courtesie
To let you live, and raign so long.
Without there!
Enter two or three, and joyn with the others.
What none but Traytors? Has this Villain
Breath'd treason into all, and with that breath,
Like a contagious vapour, blasted Loyalty?
Sure Hell it self hath sent forth all her Furies,
T' inhabit and possess this place.
Sir, passions without power,
Like seas against a rock, but lose their fury.
Take these Villains, and see 'em strang­led.
1. Bash.
Farewell, Sir, commend us to your son, let him know,
That since we cannot die his servants,
We'll die his Martyrs.
Farewell, unhappy friends,
A long farewell, and may you find rewards
Great as your Innocence; or which is more,
[Page 75] Great as your wrongs.
2 Bash.
Come, thou art troubled,
Thou dost not fear to dye?
1 Bash.
No, but to lose my death,
To sell my life so cheap, while this proud villain
That takes it must survive.
2 Bash.
We shall not lose our deaths,
If Heaven can hear the cries of guiltless blood,
Which sure it must; for I have heard th' are loud ones:
Vengeance shall overtake thee.
Away with 'em.
Stay, Haly, they are innocent; yet life, when 'tis thy gift,
Is worse than death, I disdain to ask it.
1 Bash.
And we to take it.
Do not ask it, Sir,
For them to whom you owe your ruine, they have undone you,
Had not they told you this, you had liv'd se­cure,
And happy in your ignorance; but this injury,
Since 'tis not in your nature to forgive it,
I must not leave it in your power to punish it.
Heaven, though from thee I have de­serv'd this plague,
Be thou my Judge and Witness, from this vil­lain
'Tis undeserv'd.
Had I but felt your vengeance from some hand
[Page 76] That first had suffer'd mine, it had been justice:
But have you sent this sad return of all
My love, my trust, my favours?
Sir, there's a great resemblance
Between your favours, and my injuries;
Those are too great to be requited, these
Too great to be forgiven: and therefore
'Tis but in vain to mention either.
Mirza, Mirza,
How art thou lost by my deceiv'd credulity?
I'le beg thy pardon.
Stay, Sir, not without my leave:
Go some of you, and let the people know
The King keeps state, and will not come in publick:
If any great affairs, or State addresses,
Bring 'em to me.
How have I taught the villain
To act my part? but oh, my son, my son,
Shall I not see thee?
For once you shall, Sir,
But you must grant me one thing.
Traytor, dost thou mock my miseries?
What can I give but this unhappy life?
Alas! Sir, it is but that I ask, and 'tis my modesty
To ask it, it being in my power to take it:
When you shall see him, Sir, to dye for pity,
'Twere such a thing, 'twould so deceive the world,
[Page 77] And make the people think you were good natur'd;
'Twill look so well in story, and become
The stage so handsomly.
I ne're deny'd thee any thing, and shall
not now
Deny thee this, though I could stand upright
Under the tyranny of age and fortune;
Yet the sad weight of such ingratitude
Will crush me into earth.
Lose not your tears, but keep
Your lamentations for your son, or sins:
For both deserve 'em: but you must make haste, Sir,
Or he'l not stay your coming.
He looks upon a watch.
'Tis now about the hour the poyson
Must take effect.
Poyson'd? oh Heaven!
Nay, Sir, lose no time in wonder, both of us
Have much to do; if you will see your Son,
Here's one shall bring you to him.
Exit King.
Some unskilful Pylot had shipwrackt here;
But I not only against sure
And likely ills have made my self secure:
But so confirm'd, and fortify'd my state,
To set it safe above the reach of Fate.
Exit Haly.
[Page 78] Enter Prince led, Servant at the other door, Princess and Soffy.
Sir, the Princess and your Son.
Soffy, thou com'st to wonder at
Thy wretched father: why dost thou interrupt
Thy happiness, by looking on an object
So miserable?
My Lord, methinks there is not in your voice
The vigour that was wont, nor in your look
The wonted chearfulness. Are you well, my Lord?
No: but I shall be, I feel my health a coming.
What's your disease, my Lord?
Nothing, but I have tane a Cordial,
Sent by the King or Haly, in requital
Of all my miseries, to make me happy:
The pillars of this frame grow weak,
As if the weight of many years oppress 'em;
My sinews slacken, and an Icy stiffness
Benums my blood.
Alas, I fear he's poysoned:
Call all the help that Art, or Herbs, or Mi­nerals
Can minister.
No, 'tis too late:
And they that gave me this, are too well practis'd
[Page 79] In such an Art, to attempt and not perform.
Yet try my Lord, revive your
thoughts, the Empire
Expects you, your Father's dying.
So when the ship is sinking,
The winds that wrackt it cease.
Will you be the scorn of fortune,
To come near a Crown, and only near it?
I am not fortunes scorn, but she is mine,
More blind than I.
O tyranny of Fate! to bring
Death in one hand, and Empire in the other;
Only to shew us happiness, and then
To snatch us from it.
They snatch me to it;
My soul is on her journey, do not now
Divert, or lead her back, to lose her self
I'th' amaze, and winding labyrinths o'th' world:
I preethee do not weep, thy love is that
I part with most unwillingly, or otherwise
I had not staid till rude necessity
Had forc'd me hence.
be not a man too soon,
And when thou art, take heed of too much vertue;
It was thy Fathers, and his only crime,
'Twill make the King suspitious; yet ere time,
By natures course has ripened thee to man,
'Twill mellow him to dust; till then forget
[Page 80] I was thy Father, yet forget it not,
My great example shall excite thy thoughts
To noble actions. And you, dear Erythaea,
Give not your passions vent, nor let blind fury
Precipitate your thoughts, nor set 'em working,
Till time shall lend 'em better means and in­struments
Than lost complaints. Where's pretty Fatyma?
She must forgive my rash ungentle passion.
What do you mean, Sir?
I am asham'd to tell you,
I prethee call her.
I will, Sir, I pray try
If sleep will ease your torments, and repair
Your wasted spirits.
Sleep to those empty lids
Is grown a stranger, and the day and night,
As undistinguisht by my sleep, as sight.
O happiness of poverty! that rests
Securely on a bed of living turfe,
While we with waking cares and restless thoughts,
Lye tumbling on our downe, courting the bles­sing
Of a short minutes slumber, which the Plough­man
Shakes from him, as a ransom'd slave his fetters:
Call in some Musick, I have heard soft airs
Can charm our senses, and expel our cares.
Is Erythaea gone?
[Page 81]
Yes, Sir.
'Tis well:
I would not have her present at my death.
Enter Musick.
SOmnus the humble God, that dwells
In cottages and smoakie cells,
Hates gilded roofs and beds of down;
And though he fears no Princes frown,
Flies from the circle of a Crown.
Come, I say, thou powerful God,
And thy Leaden charming Rod,
Dipt in the Lethaean Lake,
O're his wakeful temples shake,
Lest he should sleep and never wake.
Nature (alas) why art thou so
Obliged to thy greatest Foe?
Sleep that is thy best repast,
Yet of death it bears a taste,
And both are the same thing at last.
So now he sleeps, let's leave him
To his repose.
Enter King.
The horrour of this place presents
The horrour of my crimes, I fain would ask
[Page 82] What I am loth to hear; but I am well prepar'd:
They that are past all hope of good, are past
All fear of ill: and yet if he be dead,
Speak softly, or uncertainly.
Sir, he sleeps.
O that's too plain, I know thou mean'st his last,
His long, his endless sleep.
No, Sir, he lives; but yet
I fear the sleep you speak of will be his next:
For nature, like a weak and weary traveller,
Tir'd with a tedious and rugged way,
Not by desire provokt, but even betray'd
By weariness and want of spirits,
Gives up her self to this unwilling slumber.
Thou hast it, Haly, 'tis indeed a sad
And sober truth, though the first
And only truth thou ever told'st me:
And 'tis a fatal sign, when Kings hear truth,
Especially when flatterers dare speak it.
I thought I heard my Father, does he think the poyson
Too slow, and comes to see the operation?
Prince Awakes.
Or does he think his engine dull, or honest?
Less apt to execute, than he to bid him:
He needs not, 'tis enough, it will succeed
To his expectation.
'Tis indeed thy Father,
Thy wretched Father; but so far from acting
[Page 83] New cruelties, that if those already past,
Acknowledg'd and repented of, can yet
Receive a pardon, by those mutual bonds
Nature has seal'd between us, which though I
Have cancell'd, thou hast still preserv'd in­violate;
I beg thy pardon.
Death in it self appears
Lovely and sweet, not only to be pardoned,
But wisht for, had it come from any other hand,
But from a Father; a Father,
A name so full of life, of love, of pity:
Death from a Fathers hand, from whom I first
Receiv'd a being, 'tis a preposterous gift,
An act at which inverted Nature starts
And blushes to behold her self so cruel.
Take thou that comfort with thee, and be not deaf to truth:
By all that's holy, by the dying accents
Of thine, and my last breath, I never meant,
I never wisht it: sorrow has so over-fraught
This sinking bark, I shall not live to shew
How I abhor, or how I would repent
My first rash crime; but he that now
Has poyson'd thee, first poyson'd me with jea­lousie,
A foolish causless jealousie.
Since you believe my innocence,
I cannot but believe your sorrow:
[Page 84] But does the villain live? A just revenge
Would more become the sorrows of a King,
Than womanish complaints.
O Mirza, Mirza!
I have no more the power to do it,
Than thou to see it done: My Empire Mirza,
My Empire's lost: thy vertue was the rock
On which it firmly stood, that being under­min'd,
It sunk with its own weight; the villain whom my breath created,
Now braves it in my Throne.
O for an hour of life; but 'twill not be:
Revenge and justice we must leave to Heaven.
I would say more, but death has taken in the out­works,
And now assails the fort; I feel, I feel him
Gnawing my heart-strings: Farewel, and yet I would.—
O stay, stay but a while, and take me with thee;
Come Death, let me embrace thee, thou that wert
The worst of all my fears, art now the best
Of all my hopes. But Fate, why hast thou added
This curse to all the rest? the love of life;
We love it, and yet hate it; death we loath,
And still desire; flye to it, and yet fear it.
[Page 85] Enter Princess and Soffy.
He's gone, he's gone for ever:
O that the poyson had mistaken his,
And met this hated life; but cruel Fate
Envyed so great a happiness: Fate that still
Flies from the wretched, and pursues the blest.
Ye Heaven's! But why should I complain to them
That hear me not, or bow to those that hate me?
Why should your curses so out-weigh your blessings?
They come but single, and long expectation
Takes from their value: but these fall upon us
Double and sudden.
Sees the King.
Yet more of horrour, then farewel my tears,
And my just anger be no more confin'd
To vain complaints, or self-devouring silence;
But break, break forth upon him like a deluge,
And the great spirit of my injur'd Lord
Possess me, and inspire me with a rage
Great as thy wrongs, and let me call together
All my Souls powers, to throw a curse upon him
Black as his crimes.
O spare your anger, 'tis lost;
For he whom thou accusest has already
Condemn'd himself, and is as miserable
As thou canst think, or wish him; spit upon me,
Cast all reproaches on me, womans wit
[Page 86] Or malice can invent, I'le thank thee for them;
What e're can give me a more lively sence
Of my own crimes, that so I may repent 'em.
O cruel Tyrant! couldst thou be so barbarous
To a Son as noble as thy self art vile?
That knew no other crime, but too much vertue;
Nor could deserve so great a punishment
For any fault, but that he was thy Son?
Now not content to exceed all other Tyrants,
Exceed'st thy self: first robbing him of sight,
Then seeming by a fain'd and forc'd repentance,
To expiate that crime, didst win him to
A false security, and now by poyson
Hast rob'd him of his life.
Were but my soul as pure
From other guilts as that, Heaven did not hold
One more immaculate. Yet what I have done,
He dying did forgive me, and hadst thou been present,
Thou wouldst have done the same: for thou art happy,
Compar'd to me; I am not only miserable,
But wicked too; thy miseries may find
Pity, and help from others; but mine make me
The scorn, and the reproach of all the world;
Thou, like unhappy Merchants, whose adven­tures
Are dasht on rocks, or swallowed up in storms,
[Page 87] Ow'st all thy losses to the Fates: but I
Like wastful Prodigals, have cast away
My happiness, and with it all mens pity:
Thou seest how weak and wretched guilt can make,
Even Kings themselves, when a weak womans anger
Can master mine.
And your sorrow
As much o'recomes my anger, and turns into melting pity.
Pity not me, nor yet deplore your husband;
But seek the safety of your son, his innocence
Will be too weak a guard, when nor my great­ness,
Nor yet his fathers vertues could protect us.
Go on my Boy, the just revenge of all
To Soffy.
Our wrongs I recommend to thee and Heaven;
I feel my weakness growing strong upon me:
Death, thou art he that wilt not flatter Princes,
That stoops not to authority, nor gives
A specious name to tyranny; but shews
Our actions in their own deformed likeness.
Now all those cruelties which I have acted,
To make me great, or glorious, or secure,
Look like the hated crimes of other men.
[Page 88] Enter Physician.
O save, save me! who are those that stand,
And seem to threaten me?
There's no body, 'tis nothing
But some fearful dream.
Yes, that's my brothers ghost, whose birth-right stood
'Twixt me and Empire, like a spreading Cedar
That grows to hinder some delightful prospect,
Him I cut down.
Next my old Fathers Ghost, whom I impatient
To have my hopes delay'd, hastned by violence before his fatal day;
Then my enraged Son, who seems to becken,
And hale me to him. I come, I come, ye Ghosts,
The greatest of you all; but sure one hell's
Too little to contain me, and too narrow
For all my crimes.
Enter Mirvan and Haly at several doors.
Go muster all the City-Bands; pretend it
To prevent sudden tumulrs,
But indeed to settle the succession.
My Lord, you are too sudden, you'l take 'em unprepar'd;
Alas, you know their consciences are tender.
Scandal and scruple must be first remov'd,
They must be pray'd and preach'd into a tu­mult:
[Page 89] But for succession,
Let us agree on that; there's Calamah
The eldest Son by the Arabsan Lady,
A gallant youth.
I, too gallant, his proud spirit will disdain
To owe his greatness to anothers gift:
Such gifts as Crowns, transcending all requital,
Turn injuries.
No, Mirvan; he must be dull and stupid, lest he know
Wherefore we made him King.
But he must be good natur'd, tractable,
And one that will be govern'd.
And have so much wit to know whom he's beholding to.
But why, my Lord, should you look fur­ther than your self?
I have had some such thoughts; but I consider
The Persian State will not endure a King
So meanly born; no, I'le rather be the same I am,
In place the second, but the first in power:
Solyman the Son of the Georgian Lady
Shall be the man: what noyse is that?
Enter Messenger.
My Lord, the Princes late victorious Army
Is marching towards the Palace, breathing no­thing
[Page 90] But fury and revenge; to them are joyn'd
All whom desire of change, or discontent,
Excites to new attempts, their Leaders
Abdal and Morat.
Abdal and Morat! Mirvan, we are lost, fallen from the top
Of all our hopes, and cast away like Saylers,
Who scaping Seas, and Rocks, and Tempests, perish
I'th' very Port; so are we lost i'th' sight
And reach of all our wishes.
How has our intelligence fail'd us so strangely?
No, no, I knew they were in mutiny;
But they could ne're have hurt us,
Had they not come at this instant period,
This point of time: had he liv'd two days longer,
A pardon to the Captains, and a largess
Among the Souldiers, had appeas'd their fury:
Had he dy'd two days sooner, the succession
Had as we pleas'd, been settled, and secur'd
By Soffy's death. Gods, that the world should turn
On minutes, and on moment▪
My Lord, lose not your self
In passion, but take counsel from necessity;
I'le to 'em, and will let them know
The Prince is dead, and that they come too late
To give him liberty; for love to him
[Page 91] Has bred their discontents: I'le tell them boldly,
That they have lost their hopes.
And tell them too,
As they have lost their hopes o'th' one, they have lost
Their fears o'th' other: tell their Leaders we desire
Their counsel in the next succession;
Which if it meet disturbance,
Then we shall crave assistance from their power,
Which Fate could not have sent in a more happy hour.
Exit Mirvan.
Enter Lords, Caliph.
My Lord,
Ye hear the news, the Princes Army is at the gate.
I, I hear it, and feel it here;
But the succession, that's the point
That first requires your counsel.
Who should succeed, but Soffy?
What! in such times as these, when such an Army
Lies at our gates, to chuse a Child our King?
You, my Lord Caliph, are better read in story,
And can discourse the fatal consequences
When Children reign.
My Lords, if you'l be guided
By reason and example.—
Enter Abdal and Morat.
My Lords, you come most opportunely, we were entring
[Page 92] Into dispute about the next succession.
Who dares dispute it? we have a power­ful argument
Of forty thousand strong, that shall confute him.
A powerful argument indeed.
I, such a one as will puzzle all your Logick
And distinctions to answer it;
And since we came too late for the performance
Of our intended service to the Prince,
The wronged Prince, we cannot more express
Our loyalty to him, than in the right
Of his most hopeful Son.
But is he not too young?
Sure you think us so too; but he, and we
Are old enough to look through your disguise,
And under that to see his Fathers Enemies.
A Guard there.
Enter Guard.
Seize him, and you that could shew reason or example.
Seize me! for what?
Canst thou remember such a name as Mirza,
And ask for what?
That name I must remember, and with horrour;
But few have dyed for doing,
What they had dy'd for if they had not done:
[Page 93] It was the Kings command, and I was only
Th' unhappy minister.
I, such a minister as wind to fire,
That adds an accidental fierceness to
Its natural fury.
If 'twere the Kings command, 'twas first thy malice
Commanded that command, and then obey'd it.
Nay, if you have resolv'd it, truth and reason
Are weak and idle arguments;
But let me pity the unhappy instruments
Of Princes wills, whose anger is our fate,
And yet their love's more fatal than their hate.
And how well that love hath been re­quited,
Mirvan your Confident,
By torture has confest.
The story of the King, and of the Ba­shaws.
Mirvan, poor-spirited wretch, thou hast deceiv'd me;
Nay then farewel my hopes, and next my fears.
Enter Soffy.
What horrid noyse was that of drums and
Trumpets, that struck my Ear?
What mean these bonds? could not my Grand­sires jealousie
Be satisfied upon his Son, but now
Must seize his dearest Favourite? sure my turn comes next.
[Page 94]
'Tis come already, Sir; but to succeed him, not them:
Long live King Soffy.
Without Drums and Trumpets.
But why are these men prisoners?
Let this inform you.
But is my Grandsire dead?
As sure as we are alive.
Then let 'em still be prisoners, away with 'em;
Invite our Mother from her sad retirement,
And all that suffer for my Fathers love,
Restraint or punishment.
Enter Princess.
Dear Mother, make
Our happiness compleat, by breaking through
That cloud of sorrow,
And let us not be wanting to our selves,
Now th' heavens have done their part,
Lest so severe and obstinate a sadness
Tempt a new vengeance.
Sir, to comply with you I'le use a violence
Upon my nature; Joy is such a forrainer,
So meer a stranger to my thoughts, I know
Not how to entertain him; but sorrow
Ill made by custom so habitual,
'Tis now part of my nature.
But can no pleasure, no delight divert it?
Greatness, or power, which women most affect,
[Page 95] If that can do it, rule me, and rule my Empire.
Sir, seek not to rob me of my tears, Fortune
Her self is not so cruel; for my counsels
Then may be unsuccessful, but my prayers
Shall wait on all your actions.
Enter Solyman, as from the Rack.
Alas poor Solyman, how is he altered?
Why, because I would not accuse your Father, when your Grandfather
Saw he could not stretch my conscience, thus he has
Stretcht my carkass.
I think they have stretcht his wit too.
This is your Fathers love that lyes thus in my bones;
I might have lov'd all the Pocky Whores in Per­sia, and
Have felt it less in my bones.
Thy faith and honesty shall be rewarded
According to thine own desire.
Friend, I pray thee tell me where-about my knees are,
I would fain kneel to thank his Majesty:
Why Sir, for the present my desire is only to have
A good Bone-setter, and when your Majesty has done that office
To the Body Politick, and some skilful
Man to this body of mine (which if it had been a Body
[Page 96] Politick, had never come to this) I shall by that
Time think on something for my suffering:
But must none of these great ones be Hang'd for
Their villanies?
Yes certainly.
Then I need look no further, some of their estates
Will serve my turn.
Bring back those villains.
Enter Haly and Caliph.
Now to your tears, dear Madam, and the Ghost
Of my dead Father, will I consecrate
The first fruits of my justice: Let such honours
And funeral rites, as to his birth and vertues
Are due, be first performed, then all that were
Actors, or Authors of so black a deed,
Be sacrific'd as Victims to his Ghost:
First thou, my holy Devil, that couldst varnish
So foul an act with the fair name of Piety:
Next thou, th' abuser of thy Princes ear.
Sir, I beg your mercy.
And I a speedy death, nor shall my reso­lution
Disarm it self, nor condescend to parley
With foolish hope.
'Twere cruelty to spare 'em, I am sorry
[Page 97] I must commence my reign in blood, but duty
And justice to my fathers soul exact
This cruel piety; let's study for a punishment,
A feeling one,
And borrow from our sorrow so much time,
T' invent a torment equal to their crime.

The Epilogue.

'TIs done, and we alive again, and now
There is no Tragedy, but in your brow.
And yet our Author hopes you are pleas'd, if not;
This having fail'd, he has a second Plot:
'Tis this; the next day send us in your friends,
Then laugh at them, and make your selves amends.
Thus, whether it be good or bad, yet you
May please your selves, and you may please us too:
But look you please the Poet, lest he vow
A full revenge upon you all, but how?
'Tis not to kill you all twenty a day,
He'l do't at once, a more compendious way;
He means to write again; but so much worse,
That seeing that, you'l think it a just curse
For censuring this: 'Faith give him your applause,
As you give Beggars money; for no cause,
But that he's troublesome, and he has swore,
As Beggars do, he'l trouble you no more.

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