Tamerlane the Great a tragedy : as it is acted by Their Majesties servants at the Theatre Royal / by C. Saunders, Gent.

Tamerlane the Great a tragedy : as it is acted by Their Majesties servants at the Theatre Royal / by C. Saunders, Gent.

Table of contents

Title page

THE PREFACE.

To my ingenious Friend Mr. Charles Saunders, on his Play of Tamerlane.

§

PROLOGUE.

〈…〉Magnes, in Russel-Street, near Covent-Garden.

Novels Printed this Year, 1680.

Tamerlane the Great. ACT I. Scene I.

ACT II. Scene I.

ACT III.

ACT IV.

ACT V.

EPILOGUE, By Mr. DRYDEN.

§

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[Page]

TAMERLANE THE GREAT. A TRAGEDY. As it is Acted by their Maiesties Servants AT THE Theatre Royal

By C. SAUNDERS, Gent.

—Neque adhuc virtus in floribus ulla est,

Transit in AEstatem post Ver robustior annus,

Fitque Valens Juvenis—

Ovid. Metam.

LONDON. Printed for Richard Bentley and M. Magnes in Russel Street near Covent-Garden, 1681.

THE PREFACE.

[Page]

[Page]

THIS Play, as it was Writ only for my divertisement at Vacant Hours, or Recreation after severer Studies, was never design'd to see the light, at least not betray the weakness of its Author so publickly on the Stage, or more universally in Print, had not the Communication of it to one or two Friends spread the rumour of it so far about the Town and Vniversity, that running like Wild-Fire through every place, it kindled a general expectation in all that either knew me in my self, or by my Friends to see it in Publick.

Nevertheless, their perswasions and inducements cou'd not make me Presume, to trust so far to my own small abilities, or to rely so much on my own weak Iudgment, as to send it forth into the World, until it had past the Censures of some (I may say) the greatest part of the Witty and Iudicious Men of the Town; untill it had receiv'd some Rules for Correction from Mr. Dryden himself, who also was pleas'd to Grace it with an Epilogue, to which it ows no small part of its success.

After this, I thought I might safely enough commit it to its Fortune, and having had the Approbation of the Greater, I presume it was Protected from falling under the Censure of the Lesser, and half Witted Iudges.

But no sooner can a young Writer appear in the World, but he is look'd upon by those squint-ey'd Pretenders, to wit, no less than some Notorious Malefactor, or Branded Outlaw, whom all may Prosecute, Attaint, Iudge, Condemn, or what they please, cum Privilegio.

For passing by some, whose more nice Iudgment, or rather prying appetite, can find faults where few others wou'd suspect them, some whose sharper Wit is Satyrically employ'd in turning the best thoughts into Ridicule, to Ruine a Writer, as it were betwixt Iest and Earnest; There are others who wanting the sense to discern, what is, and where a true Fault lies, nay, sometimes to distinguish it from a Beauty, [Page] will yet in spight of Stupidity have their share too in Damning the Reputation of an Author; and the means they took, was to give out, that this was only an Old-Play Transcrib'd.

But I hope I may easily unload my self of that Calumny, when I shall testifie that I never heard of any Play on the same Subject, untill my own was Acted, neither have I since seen it, though it hath been to [...]d me, there is a Cock-Pit Play, going under the name of the Scythian Shepherd, or Tamberlain the Great, which how good it is, any one may Iudge by its obscurity, being a thing, not a Bookseller in London, or scarce the Players themselves, who Acted it formerly, cou'd call to Remembrance, so far, that I believe that whoever was the Author, he might e'en keep it to himself secure from invasion, or Plagiary; But let these who have Read it Convince themselves of their Errors, that this is no second Edition, but an entirely new Play.

Moreover, utterly to overthrow this Objection, I must acquaint you that I drew the design of this Play, from a late Novell, call'd Tamerlane and Asteria, which I'm sure bears not half the Age of the Tragedy before mention'd, and I am confident the Characters are quite different.

The last and worst aspertion is cast upon me, is, that I was help'd by others in the performance. But if I have not Friends that can clear me of this also, I hope the Congruity of the Style throughout the whole Play will testifie the simplicity of the Author.

This I think may satisfie my more equal Iudges, that this Trifle is mine own, or if you will, honestly begotten between me, and my Muse, which I hope is yet so Chast, and her Reputation so sound, as not to have her Issue Branded with Plurality of Fathers.

Thus we see what kind of Criticks we have now-a-dayes, that can lye by the whole sale, and Damn a Play in a Breath, that we may the more easily bear with them who pique at word by word, and thought by thought, in a more modest retail manner.

I shall not now strive to defend this Trifle in any particular Circumstances, but leave it to those of a more impartial Iudgment; hoping first they may not find as many faults, as they expect, next that they wou'd be so kind as to wink at those which do occur, attributing them to the Youth of the Author, and consequently his want of experience, and Iudgment.

To my ingenious Friend Mr. Charles Saunders, on his Play of Tamerlane.

[Page]

WHen Night has thrown her sable Vest away,

And the Sun's mounted on the Wings of day,

Bright as Parnassus all around he Guilds,

First the young Trees, and then the Mother Fields,

To Youth, and Morn such Glories offers he,

Which Age can only wonder at and see,

But when the God has reacht the middle way,

He the World visits with a courser Ray,

Whips his dull Steeds, and hastens to the Sea,

Cooling his Tresses on the Amber Shore,

Then hates what he so well did love before:

Or as an Infant spring, that from the side

Of some lone Hill does through the Meadows glide,

Whose Chrystal Waters as they silent pass,

Aford the Nymphs both Dress, and Looking Glass,

Who take the yellow Sands that lye below,

And on their Heads the Golden Powder throw,

Whilst the Rich Flood most prodigally decks

With Rings their fingers, and with Pearls their necks

In whose clear Stream the Heav'ns delight to play

Phoebus to wast the tedious Summers Day,

The Moon and Stars, the live-long Night away,

Beneath 'tis Spring, above, Eternal Ray,

It's Winter Bloom, and ev'ry Season May.

But track these Beauties, and before they've run

More Miles than Youth has years, they all are gone,

Strong Tydes molest its' wanton Course and o're

It's hoary swelling Head huge Tempests roare,

And all it's Glebes are Sandy like it's Shore.

Till sick with Storms and every surly Blast,

'Tis forc'd to make the Sea its Grave at last.

On then brave Youth with Harp Divinely strung,

And sing more sweet than ever Antients sung,

Than Orpheus, Homer, or than Cowley Young;

E're Age shall come and thou shalt live to see

That Fumbling time of Love and Poetry.

Now of the Young, you all the vigor shew,

[Page]And of the Old the solid Iudgment too:

To you the Merits of e'm both belong,

Not Alexander fought so very Young,

Nor Conquer'd he the mighty World so soon

As you have charm'd, and all the Muses won;

And wise Minerva, like a Mother fond,

With her own Wreaths thy darling Temples Crown'd,

Has thee o're all thy Elder Brothers plac'd,

And with a Benjamins large Portion grac'd.

But let me not in wondring at your Youth,

Forget what's due to Friendship and to Truth.

Know Wit, like Beauty, pleases where it harms;

A Checquer'd Serpent 'tis with Sting and Charms:

And happy's he that never thinks at all,

And far more happy is that lavish Fool,

That dully wasts his Fortunes on a Whore,

Than he that splits upon this dangerous Shore.

Not Spencer dead, nor Spencer now alive

Cou'd ever find a way by Wit to thrive:

It is a Dream of Wealth, a Fairy Land,

A fickle Treasure grasp'd like Golden Sand,

Which, as 'tis held, does vanish through the Hand.

The Lethargy of the best natur'd Mind,

A Foe to Business, and to all unkind;

Like that too kills insensible and sure:

For he with Verse diseas'd, does still the more

Court his lov'd Plague, and itches to be poor;

A Mark where vile Pretenders lose their aim,

And ev'n the best get but an empty Name.

Launch out young Merchant new set up of Wit,

The World's before thee, and thy Stock is great,

Sail by thy Muse, but never let her guide,

Then without danger you may safely glide

By happyer Studies steer'd, and quickly gain

The promis'd Indies of a hopeful Brain,

Bring home a Man betimes that may Create

His Country's Glory in the Church, or State.

J. Bankes.

§

[Page]

Drammatis Personae.

Tamerlane Emperor of the Tartars.

Bajaset Emperor of the Turks.

Sons to Tamerlane.

Arsanes

Mandricard

Counsellors.

Odmar

Abdalla

Friends to Arsanes.

Axalla

Zanches

Women.

Asteria Daughter to Bajaset

Ispatia Wife to Mandricard

Zayda Confident of Asteria.

Priests, Guards, Attendants, &c.

Scene Samarcanda.

PROLOGUE.

[Page]

HOw modern Prologues differ from the Old!

Those su'd and pray'd, but these huff, rail, and scold.

Now sure the Poets of our age presume

They have out-done the wits of Greece and Rome;

Who by ill-natur'd Satyr strive t'obtain

What they by low submission sought to Gain.

What bold Offendor ever yet found Grace

By spitting vilely in his Iudges Face?

Yet they so fondly do themselves esteem,

They hiss at you, yet think you shou'd Clap them.

Nay Branding you for Fools in open Pit,

Hold it your Duty to cry up their Wit.

Vollies of Curses on your heads they send,

Damn one of them, They injur'd right pretend;

And with unreasonable Confidence

Excuse their Failings by your want of Sense.

Some things you may not understand, 'tis true;

'Tis more then Oedipus himself can doe.

None of your Actions can their Censure pass

Your Cravat, Wig, French-dress, or Pocket-glass,

No not so much as Whore—

Do you dress well? then rudely they Suppose

Your Taylor made your Wit, as well as Cloths.

[Page]Have you a well-becoming Wig, They'l Swear

You Bought Your falser Senses in false Hair.

Thus turn your Wit to Scorn, yet think it much

If you their husky Farce, or puffy Bombast touch.

Thus Malecontents wou'd Laws to Rulers give,

But think it Tyranny if they receive.

Let not their railings Loyal Poets blind

That you'r no Fools we by your Patience find

Fools will be Angry, but you still are Kind.

Then in that Old, not this New-fangled way

To you our Author do's his Thanks repay

For your kind meeting on this happy Day

If he Offend he do's your Grace Implore,

And Swears to mend, or Trouble you no more.

Theives for one Crime have often Scap'd the Rope,

Nay Priests, and Plotters are not out of Hope.

Then Spare our Author for a Nobler Fate

He yet deserves your Pity, not your Hate.

[...]Magnes, in Russel-Street, near Covent-Garden.

[Page]

ALL the Tragedies and Comedies of Francis Beumont and Iohn Flesher, in one Volume, containing fifty one Plays.

Tartuff, or the French Puritan.

Forc'd Marriage, or the Jealous Bride.

English Monsieur.

All Mistaken, or the mad Couple.

Generous Enemies.

Andromacha; A Tragedy.

Calisto: or the Masque at Court.

Country-Wit. A Comedie.

Destruction of Ierusalem, 2 parts.

Miseries of Civil VVar.

Henry 6. with the Murder of the Duke of Glocester.

Nero, a Tragedie.

Gloriana, a Tragedie.

Sophonisba, or Hanibals overthrow.

Alexander the Great, or the Rival Queens.

Mithridates King of Pontus.

Caesar Borgia, Son of Pope Alexander 6.

Oedipus, King of Thebes.

Theodosius, or the Force of Love.

The Plain Dealer.

The Town-Fop, or Sir Timothy Taudry.

Abdullazar, or the Moors Revenge.

Madam Fickle: or the Witty False one.

The Fond Husband, or the Plotting Sisters.

The Vertuous Wife, or good luck at last.

The Fool turn'd Critick, a Comedie.

Squire Oldsap, or the Night Adventurers.

The Mistaken Husband, a Comedie.

Mr. Limberham, or the Kind Keeper.

Notes and Observations on the Empress of Morocco.

The Orphan, or unhappy Marriage.

The Souldiers Fortune.

Sertorius. A Tragedie.

Tamberlane the Great.

King Lear.

Novels Printed this Year, 1680.

The Amours of the King of Tamaran.

The Amours of the French King and Madam Laniler.

The Amours of Madam and the Count de-Guich.

The Pilgrim: A Satyrical Novel on the horrible Villanies of those Persons.

The Secret History of the Earl of Essex and Queen Elizabeth.

The Policy of the Clergie of France, to suppress the Protestants of that Kingdom.

Tamerlane the Great.
ACT I. Scene I.

[Page]

The Curtain being drawn up discovers the Temple of Mahomet, in it Tamerlane, Mandricard, Odmar, Abdalla, and Priests who sing the following Hymn.

Pr.

SIng we, Alha, Lord of Fate,

Father, Ruler of this State,

In whose hand are War and Peace,

Overthrows and Victories

Sing we to thy Pow'r Divine

At whose Nod the Heavens Bow,

To whom Gods Allegiance owe,

Whose just Favour Kings doth Crown,

Monarchs perish at whose Frown,

Sing we at thy Holy Shrine.

Ch.

Accept our Thanks, accept our Praise

Our solemn Vows, our Eulogies,

The Altars which our Hearts do raise

Accept the humble Sacrifice.

Pr.

To thee, Alha, Virgins Sing

To thee Tune each Tender String,

Carry'd by an Holy Zeal

Of the Pious Matrons tell

To thy Grace Triumphant Youth

To thee glad Old Age doth Kneel,

Nor do Kings, thy Power Conceal.

But all admire, all Confess

iTs thou Cursest, thou dost Bless

[Page]To thee owe their Rise, and Growth.

Ch.

Accept our Thanks, &c.

Pr.

See the Trophies see the Spoils

The glad Harvest of our Toils

See the Scythian Majesty

Crown'd with Peace and Victory

To his Scepter Turk giv'n;

To him Conquer'd Asi [...] bows

To him th' Earth her Freedom owes.

Fear we now no blow of Fate,

'Tis Iust Alha rules our State,

And our King's the Care of Heav'n.

Ch.

Accepted are our thanks our Praise

Our Solemn Vows our Eulogies

'The Altars which our Hearts do raise

Accepted is the Sacrifice.

After the Hymn Tamerlane, Mandricard, Odmar, Abdalla, with Guards, come forward on the Stage, and the Scene changes to the Pallace.

Tam.

After our Sacred Rites to Alha paid

'Tis fit we show our second Thanks in Joy

And Triumphs which to Victory are due.

Let Scythia now Arrai'd in all the Pride

Of Conquer'd Asia dart her Glory to

The utmost Gades, and to the utmost Ind.

Let all her sleeping Monarchs rise and see,

How far her new-got Liberties Extend.

And as of Old her Vertue has alone

Assyrian and Pellaean Arms withstood,

Nor dar'd the flying Parthian to look back

Upon his Enemy, but by retreat

Sought Life, not Conquest. Our Faim'd Ancestors

Then boasted how they could a Foe repel,

Far greater's our Renown in Glorious Arms,

Who know to Conquer too, enlarge our sway,

And Teach the Haughty Ottoman to bow.

Man.

Needless, Great Sir, was that far Boasted Gift

[Page]That Law which to your Tartary entail'd

The Turkish Empire, when their Kingly Line

For want of Heirs should cease, you scorn'd to wait

The slow Event; (or shou'd it be) to take

Ev'n Empire at a Gift; but Gazing on

The Golden Prey, you thought it lookt too great

To be so cheaply Bought, then Seizing it

With Danger, and the famous Lot of War

Made it your Merits due, and Valours right.

Abd.

That Man who threatn'd all the World with ruin

That fierce, that yet unconquer'd Bajaset,

Whose dreadful Name so oft shook Greece with Terror

And struck her Princes Dumb with fear, That Man

To whom all Asia Bow'd, has Learnt to Kneel,

To Tamerlanes more Mighty Pow'r; Avert

Ye Gods, all Nations Cry, from us the Hand

Of the all-Conquering God-like Tamerlane.

Odm.

Abdalla, no; the World is pleas'd and silent,

Amaz'd, and wondring at the sudden Change,

The happy change of Monarchs, Bless their Stars

By whose kind influence doubtful Victory

Flew where Desert, and working Virtue call'd.

While to your Arms all Nations wisht Success,

To you who shou'd Revenge the Injur'd Earth

And for a Tyrant give the World a King.

Tam.

Stain not with flatteries the famous Day

But rather let our Victory appear,

By her own Trophies absolute, and sure.

Let Blaze through all our Streets the Captive Moon

That Superstitious Idol of the Field.

In Solemn Process March our Slaves of War

Each Tartar to his Turkish Prey a Guard,

Your Heads with Lawrel Crown'd, your Hands with Spoils,

Filling with wel-come Joy the shouting Crowd.

For a Just Trophie to our own Ambition

Call here the Captive Monarch to our sight.

I wou'd Survey each Limb of that Great Man,

Try his fierce Temper, see what awful Pride

Held in such fear the Subject Nations.

[Page] Bajaset and Asteria are brought in Bound.

Baj.

Death,

I've view'd thee in a Thousand, Thousand Shapes,

When not the fear of all thy Murdring Engines,

E're shook my Soul so much, as now the thought

Of this Tongue-Combat—give me Patience, Alha!

Tam.

What Mutters he?

Baj.

Infectious be my Breath,

And Blast thee ere thy Taunts can vex my Soul,

For I conceive I shall be talk'd to Death.

Tam.

Think not, O King, we come in Proud Disdain

To thy fal'n State, or scorn thy Ebbing Fortunes,

Or with Vain Glory to Commend our Deeds

Which of themselves do loudly Praise the Doer.

But as thy Conqueror and Prince to claim

A just Submission to our Power; Live,

But to our Mercy owe the Life we Give.

Baj.

And dost thou think the Glorious Bajaset

Can stoop so low? speak, Alha, say, my Stars

Is't just that I who held the fate of Kings

In this Right Hand, and scatter'd Death's among

The Tyrants of the World, as fast as words

Cou'd mingle them; at last shou'd hold my Life

On any upstart Power? First shall th' Enfeebled Sun

Stoop down, and Borrow from the Earth his Heat,

The Stars from Northern Fires take their Light,

And Gods of Kings shall Mortal Blessings ask

E're I to thy scorn'd favour own a Debt.

Tam.

Talk on, fond Slave, and Glut thy self with thinking,

For words and thoughts are all thy Weapons now,

Which yet thy Abject State shall prove but Vain

And make thee a much greater—

Baj.

Emperor!

The Brave are alwayes so; nor can the Fates

Debase an inborn Virtue, Oh that Frown

That Frown suits wondrous well the baleful Brow

Of an Exalted, Stern, fate-looking Tyrant!

So stretch thy self Ambitious Arrogance,

[Page]Stretch on the Wheel of Pride thy streightned Nerves

Till thy Cramp'd Limbs yield Musick to my Ears,

Proud, Vain Usurper—

Tam.

Such was Ottoman

He Built his Throne by Virtue, and I mine

Speak, if thy Pride can give a Vent to Truth

Which is the Nobler Title, fairer Name,

A Crown'd Usurper, or a Captive King?

Baj.

Gods! that I live to hear that vile Reproach▪

By Alla 'tis too much—Now cou'd I fly

Like some Fierce Lyon scap'd the Hunters Hand

(His Strength by Rage Improv'd, Rage by Despair)

Against my Victor—ha, Inform me Slaves

Who, or from whence was that bold Son of War

Who durst with me in dreadful Combat Joyn?

That Chief in sable Arms! for yet I see not

His Face in all this Crowd.

Tam.

Behold thy Greatest

Most Dreadful Foe, see me Heav'ns fatal Scourge

Sent from above to Purge the sickly Earth

By Blood from Bloody Tyrants.

Baj.

No, fond Man,

Mistake me not; that Conquerour was one

One Nobler far, and fairer to behold

Then any thy throng'd Court do's to my Eyes display.

Tam.

Spightful and false thy base Reproaches are,

Say Odmar, speak the Valiant Mandricard,

The Mighty nothing of that Strangers Acts.

Man.

Not Sir, to Lessen or Eclipse your Fame

Do I to that brave Strangers high Desert

Due Honours pay, not that the Fierce Abdalla,

Wise Odmar, or the Valiant Aldegar

Did less then God-like acts; yet Sir, to speak

His Worth I Envy, not those Numerous Bands

To Conquest by your Royal▪ Conduct led

Equal'd that Heroes Fame, who follow'd by

A Guard of Horse in Mournful Black Arra'id

O're ran our fainting Enemies; none durst

Withstand him but their War-like Emperor,

Whose rashness caus'd his Fate, the brave unknown

[Page]With force Superior drew him to our Camp,

Threw him into my wide-spread Arms, and Cry'd

Take here a Present from the Man you hate;

Then adds, I ask but this for my Reward

He was a King, be sure you use him so.

Tam.

Gods! I shall jealous of my Conquest grow!

Odm.

Nor he, nor Heav'n your Glory cou'd obscure!

Since Mandricard was sharer in the War:

For by him fell the great Ortobulus

The Hopes of Turky, and the Prop of Battel!

Him did he Disinherit with his Sword,

And snatch'd his Birth-right World as his Reward.

Man.

Curse on thy Tongue! what Frenzy broke thy silence?

[Aside to Od.

Thy Breath has Blasted me, and for a flash

Of Honour, Damn'd me to Eternal Flames.

Tam.

My Noble Son—

Baj.

'Tis false, ye spightful Powrs,

Ortobulus (I'le ne're believe it) slain

By that weak Arm, what Millions back'd the Coward?

Tam.

Fair Virtue was his Guard, approach me nigh,

Embrace me round; now claim thy just Reward

Ask freely; for the Glory of the Act deserves

VVhat ere thy Swoln Ambition can Demand.

VVhat Will not Conquerors on the Brave bestow?

VVhat sad Disorder moves my Mandricard?

VVhat foolish Passion dares disturb my Son?

Man.

Who can withstand the vastness of such Hopes?

Tam.

Have we not giv'n our Word, and can we Lye?

Man.

Far-bee't from me such Blasphemy to think.

Tam.

Odmar, Abdalla, witness to my Vow,

If ought I can deny to him! I Love

Above the World, which he can ask with Honour,

Sudden Destruction seize my Perjur'd Soul.

Faith is the brightest Jewel of a Crown.

Man.

Speak my Souls great Ambassador, my Tongue,

Pronounce thy Message loud; a King Commands:

O speak what thou desirest most to speak,

Pard'n Sir, my too rude Carriage,

Tam.

Say Noble Youth.

[Page]Man.

Low as the Earth two Monarchs I Implore,

Rather two Gods in saving pity great,

As Heav'n may bless your Throne with Victory,

[To Tam.

As Heav'n may raise you higher by your Fall,

[To Baj.

I beg this Princess from your Royal hands.

Ast.

With all the force a Virgins Tears can press

On any Soul, I here implore my Death

Ten thousand Deaths e're yield my Innocence

To be polluted by his loath'd Embraces.

Baj.

Curse him, Asteria, curse the fatal Source

Of thine, of mine, of the Worlds wretched State,

Upon a Fathers blessing curse the Race

Of Perjur'd Tamerlane, there's poyson in it

And rank Infection, and consuming Plagues.

Man.

Is she not Fair, my Lord!

Is she not Innocent as Babes new Born?

Tam.

Mean Soul, degenerate Boy, I charge thee cease,

Canst thou behold this haughty slave in Chains

Outdare our Pow'r, and scorn our offer'd favours,

Nay Curse thee to thy Face, and hold thee worthless

The gift thou ask'st? deny thee with Contempt?

And thou yet stoop to him, kneel, pray to him?

Wipe off, rash boy, thy growing Glories stain

Or quit the Name of Son—

Man.

How all things to my ruin do concur?

Father, and Daughter, Emperor all are joyn'd

To make me wretched, O the killing Flames,

Of a despairing passion, oh my heart!

Baj.

My Miseries have giv'n me leave to smile

To see thee Traytor find an Hell on Earth.

Man.

Approach my Fair.

Ast.

Oh I am ruin'd, stain'd,

With hands scarce cool from my dear Brothers blood

He catches at the Sister for reward

And Im'e become a partner in the Murder.

Baj.

Oh the bold Ravisher, that he shou'd dare

To touch her—purge then Villain with thy blood

Her fully'd beauties, Dye.

[Snatching a Sword from the Guards.

Tam.

Disarm the Traytor,

Presumptuous Fool, this Act has forfeited.

[Page]The Life we gave.

Baj.

Have I driv'n Troops before me

And am I thus held in by a crowd of Slaves?

Vile, fearful Mice to pluck the bristled Main

Of a bound Lyon, rise, my Passion, rise

Swell every Vein up to an Artery.

Return the famous Lightning of my Eyes,

Work, Oh my Heart, my Soul, in my revenge,

For I am kill'd, choak'd with disdain and fury.

Tam.

He Raves and we lose time to hear him, hast,

Take, force him from my sight.

Baj.

Do not think me King,

One that has nothing but a Life to lose;

Death! 'tis the common Scourge of coward minds,

A Goblin hatch'd to fright base vulgar Spirits.

Life I contemn; nor wou'd I stoop so low

Beneath my Majesty to take it up,

Though with my Empire it might be redeem'd,

Since he must grant it whom I scorn and hate.

A Grace from Tamerlane wou'd load with shame

My inward memory far more then all

My risled Crowns, or the base name of Slave.

Now, Tyrant, to thy last destruction hear

What Alha moving in my breast Commands

Me speak, thy Glory, Tartar, is short liv'd,

There are a Royal Race of Ottemans,

(See thy Guards tremble at their very Name)

And so must thou, I see thy Glory sink

And Heav'n in Arms against thy Perjur'd Soul

Tam.

A way to Death to speedy Torture with him

His boasted courage this last Act shall frye.

Baj.

Yes, I will make a Tryal of my Heart

I'le bear my wrongs with such a noble Courage

So far Transcending mean Tartarian spirits

That thou shalt burst with envy to my Fate.

[Is led off.

Man.

Thus doth the Naked Beggar gazing stand

On great Mens wealth and starves, O cursed spight.

That I must perish all my Joyes in sight.

[Exit.

[Page]

A Wood.

Arsanes, Axalla.

Ars.

Urge me no more, my Lord, my fate is seal'd,

And Heav'ns fixt will stands uncontroul'd by chance,

Now to return (by Heav'n I never will)

Were as to seek a second Banishment,

Or Death the lesser evil for returning.

Ax.

Yet Sir the King—

Ars.

Is most unjust and cruel

Lead by the voice of every fawning Traytor,

And gives all power to him that Flatters most.

My Brother! Yes, by all that's good it was

That fatal Brother, that ambitious Boy,

With the deep plotting Odmar wrought my ruine,

And built their greatness on my ill-tim'd Vertue,

VVhile I—

Ax.

VVhile you here in inglorious sorrow

Quit your just Title to your Fathers Throne.

Ars.

A Throne Axalla, can it yet be news

My Father owns no Son but Mandricard?

He shares his Crowns of Lawrel and of Gold,

And all the shining Scepters of each Clime,

VVhere if a friend but chance to name Arsanes,

Or fetch an inward sigh for his misfortunes,

A pointed frown marks the kind Spirit dead,

And choaks with mournful groans his pious wishes.

Oh my Nerina!—

Ax.

That fever still, my Lord?

Ars.

It like the Liver of the Earth-born Monster

O'respread nine Furlongs of the burning Lake

Feeds on the fiery Diet of fond hope,

To be renew'd a prey to black despair.

Ax.

Yet Sir she may be found

Ars.

She may! O trifler, may!

May be is quite impossible to Love;

She must—ye Gods, appoint the happy time,

Like that when softest Hours in Greece I drew

[Page]Then when the Hospitable Emperor

Saluted us as Princes, treated us

At no less rate though both by Law enslav'd,

An exile I, and she a Pyrates prey.

Long in that state we liv'd in Bliss and Love,

I Adanaxus, she Nerina call'd.

But Oh, my Friend, that Golden Age is past!

Ax.

Ah, my dear Lord—

Ars.

Speak, Friend—

Ax.

If any charm

Of specious truth your passion can o're sway

And raise belief in your distracted Breast,

The sight of her—

Ars.

Do not Delude me thus.

Ax.

No false Delusion, or diverting Fable

Can here reside, take, take the naked truth,

Axalla in her rifled Tent beheld,

Gaz'd on, and knew the fair Nerina's charms.

Ars.

But did you see her like Nerina? bright

As the first Sun when on the Eastern Shore

He Rises fresh, and Decks the Infant Day.

Did you behold among the Beauteous Crowd

One by all envy'd, and by all admir'd?

A Triple Goddess, Fair, Majestick, Wise?

Ax.

Shee's all, my Lord, that ev'n your Love can speak her;

And though all bash'd and shrouded o're with Tears

Yet cou'd not ev'n those thickning Clouds of sorrow

Obscure the shining lustre of her Eyes.

Ars.

Methinks, my Friend, I see those Pearly drops

When taking on my Breast her last farewell,

She cast her Ivory Arms about my Neck,

And cry'd, my Love; Oh shou'd we meet again,

Nor spoke she this with the least sign of Bliss,

For with a Smile she promis'd it a truth.

Ax.

As great and faithful as the Sybills Voice,

And can you then, my Lord, leave all those Joyes

For want of seeking them? Think, think, Arsanes,

When this hot Fever has dry'd up to Ashes

Your slaming Heart, and Parcht your vital Spirits,

Then you will cry (but oh 'twill be too late)

[Page]What mass of Golden Treasure have I lost?

Then curse your self for your unkind distrust,

Your little Faith to your Axalla's Counsels,

That ruin'd the unfortunate Arsanes.

But let's behold, the faithful Danches comes

[Enter Danches.

From your Great Fathers Court, his joyful look

Denotes some glad Discovery—The News?

Zan.

Great Prince! what still may please, and make you happy,

I went to Samarcanda; but I pass'd,

Me thought, through Streets block'd up with moving Castles,

So thick, so numberles [...] the People stood:

While they with Voices undistinguish'd fill'd

The Air, that Eccho'd nothing but the Stranger,

The Stranger is the business of the Court:

The Sweet Discourse of every Ladies Mouth

Is, what the Stranger did; to you they owe

Their Trophies and their Fame.

Ars.

And is the Court so monstrously infectious,

That scarce an hour gone thou'st learnt to flatter?

Speak, speak thy Errand, what of the fair Nerina?

Zan.

Great Sir! the Lady which your Friend discover'd

Is Daughter to th' impetuous Bajaset,

The tender sharer of her Fathers Fate.

Ars.

Ha! Withers not my Hand, start not my Eyes

From their curs'd Orbs?

Am I not all an Ague? So loud a Clap

Of sudden Thunder, and yet live? Ye Gods!

Have I to ruine her my Sword employ'd,

My greatest Strength her Country to destroy?

Was it her Father too whose Fate I sought?

Then on my self, my more than hellish act

I thus Revenge.

[Draws his Dagger, which Axalla wrests from him.

Ax.

Dear Sir.

Ars.

'Twas friendly done:

For I confess a death so quiet, and

So short, had been a Balm to ease my Heart,

Rather than punishment to expiate

My great offence; to die? perhaps the News

Might satisfie some Relicks of the War,

That their great Enemy is dead—What then?

[Page]What had I done for Bajaset? what for

His ruin'd House, his flaming Pallace? what

In lieu of all his pillag'd Scepters, Crowns?

What for Nerina's wrongs, whose every Tear

Deserves a Life? No, no, Axalla, that

Which can but once be done, let it be long

In doing.

Zan.

Dear, my Lord, divert those thoughts

And go where Piety and Honour call.

The Royal Slave not brooking his disgrace,

And yielding not himself to Tamerlane,

Is most unfaithfully condemn'd to Die.

Ars.

To Die? Shall then Nerina's Father Die?

Basely and poorly be a prey to Fate?

And leave his weeping Daughter all alone,

'Midst a rude Multitude of Savage Men?

Ax.

Arsanes cannot think a thought like that.

Ars.

No, my Axalla, hast we from this place

With all the swiftness of a Love in fear,

That he shall come too late, and lose the Prize,

The Beauteous Prize, for which all that have Souls

Must needs be Rivals; Guide me, O my Stars,

Shorten my Journey to my Paradise.

By all my hopes Nerina's Father lives;

Then snatching to my self the Glorious Prize,

I'le reap the Fruit of all my Victories.

[Exeunt.

ACT II. Scene I.

[Page]

Bajaset is discover'd on a Scaffold, an Executioner with an Axe, and others with Hallbirds, Swords, &c.

Enter Tamerlane, Mandricard, Odmar, Abdalla. The Executioner being about to strike; Enter in hast Arsanes, and Axalla.

Ars.

HOld, stay thy bloody hand, I charge thee strike not.

Tam.

What bold Invader dares thus countermand me?

Speak, say, what art?

Ars.

Lay down, O mighty Prince!

A little of thy Thunder, and I'le speak.

O thou to whose high care Heav'n doth intrust

The Rule of Nations, Monarch of the Earth,

So may you Laurels bear from either Pole,

As you to them shall peaceful Olives joyn,

And in your Conquests God-like Mercy shew.

Tam.

The Accent of that Voice I sure have known;

Nor am I unacquainted with that Face:

All day I could with patience hear thy Story.

Ars.

Not to recount the Changes of my Life,

Which but for one, one only happy Fate

Does not deserve a Name; yet, Sir, I'le tell you,

There's Glory in that Fate, and to have done

You Loyal Service, is a Noble Bliss.

Tam.

By all my Lawrels the Triumphant Stranger!

O Prince! for I consider thee no less;

What shall I, what Reward can I repay

To thy great Vertue?

Ars.

Not a Thirst of Wealth,

Or Sacred Famine of Reward, or yet

A vain Ambition to commend my Deeds,

Made me presume to meet your Royal Eyes.

But since, Great Sir, you do esteem my Acts

Worthy a price, O hear the Prayers I make;

[Page]By Alha, by the Soul of Mahomet,

By the ne'r-cancell'd Bond of your strict Vow

In Heav'ns bright Eye, I do conjure thee spare

The Royal Captives Life.

Tam.

Thou cou'd'st not ask

A thing but this, we cou'd not grant.

Ars.

O Heav'n!

If with a Princes Life you needs must Seal

The Glory of your Conquest, rip these Veins,

And draw what Blood is left in expiation

For his dear Life—Oh hold me not in doubt.

Tam.

Did I but think I did the Slave a favour,

Spight of my Vow by Heav'n he shou'd not live;

But as 'tis that he fears far worse than Death,

I by one Act will wisely satisfie

[Aside.

This Strangers hopes, and glut my own Revenge,

Yes he shall live; remove the Fatal Pomp,

And lead him to our Palace; but know, Slave,

'Tis to this generous Prince thou owst thy Life.

Baj.

For me his Pray'rs; ye Stars shed ruine on him,

Beg in my Cause? Precacious Fool, be silent.

[To Ars.

Ha.! Villain! why's my Fate so long delay'd,

[To the Exec.

Is the Axe not sharp enough? or am I held

Here to be gaz'd at for a Mark, a Shew,

A Property to please the Idle Vulgar?

Strike Villain, or I'le spurn thee into Ashes.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, O I could burst with laughter,

To see these Apes, these mistaken Fools,

Who think they have been generous and kind,

While they are dully cruel; Tyrant, blush,

And know, wer't thou my Slave, thus would I glut

My self with vengeance on thee, so farewell,

And some Plague seize thee e're we meet again.

[Is led off.

Tam.

Thus to your Prayers we sacrifice our Justice,

And to your mighty Merits our Revenge.

[To Arsan.

Ars.

Thus at your Royal Feet I cast my self,

And may those Pow'rs that rais'd and guard your Throne

Reward you for this greatest highest favour,

For which I vow you everlasting Service.

Man.

Hail, O great Soul of War, matchless in Might!

[Page]Odm.

Fair Guardian Angel of the Scythian Throne.

Abd.

Desire of Nations, Bulwark of this State.

Ars.

Your Vassal, Princes, knows not to bear

These loads of Praise, unable to repay

Your noble kindness ev'n in Thanks.

Man.

So may

You always knit fresh Lawrels to your Brow,

As we to you our Turkish Conquests owe.

Tam.

'Tis true, I as a Warrior must adore

Thee in thy Vertues, thy Success admire,

Thy Actions love, reward thy Loyalty.

But something nearer calls thee to my Breast,

Stamps thy dear Image on my Soul, and tells me,

There is a mightier reason for my love

Than any I have yet alledged. O Nature,

My Eyes, my Heart, both challenge thee, my Son!

Ars.

Father, if I may dare to use that Name,

[Pulling off his disguise.

Behold your wretched Son, your Darling once;

Now less than Stranger to you, banish'd, spoil'd

Of all my Honours, Father, Country, Name,

By their vile Arts, who with false Counsels arm'd

Against my Innocence your mildest Nature.

Here could I wish I were for ever fix'd,

Here breath my last, and leave my flying Soul.

Tam.

Ye Powrs, my Son, the wrong'd Arsanes here!

Heav'n knows with what regret I rob my Throne of

So great a Pillar, my Kingdom of so good

A Prince; Heaven knows how I have mourn'd thy absence,

And curs'd my fond belief to busy Flatterers.

Credit me, Prince, I always thought thee injur'd.

Odm.

O damn'd, deceitful, spightful Queen of Chance.

Man.

Hell, that I as a Basilisk cou'd dart

Poison from my Eyes, and blot his growing Greatness.

[Aside.

Tam.

O Mandricard! my other Blessing, share

This mass of Joy that fills my heaving Breast.

Man.

And can the Stranger prove so near a Friend?

A Brother? Oh that Name! Now by my Arms,

If ever hate were grounded in my Breast,

You Valiant Deeds have dispossess'd it all.

Such Vertue ne'r can find an Enemy:

[Imbraces coolly.

[Page]Now all the subtilest Plagues of Hell prevent thee.

[Aside.

Ars.

O happy day! the whitest of my Life.

Tam.

All who are present at this Solemn Meeting,

Behold your Prince, your wish'd for Prince Arsanes;

In whose just Cause you have so often mutinid,

And ev'n assail'd our Throne for his revenge▪

Receive, take, share with me his Royal Heart,

And with loud shouts of Joy accompany

Us to our Palace: Thus from their sad Urn

Thy Phoenix Vertues to new Glories burn.

[Exeunt.

Odmar manet solus.

Odm.

Furies and Death, and all the Family

Of dark Infernal Pow'rs, can you see,

So tamely see me your Chief Instrument

Sworn to your Counsels, so lost, so successless?

For this?

Have I trod in all Paths that Hell-ward led?

Has Envy lost her Snakes, and Fraud forgot

Her Art? Is Malice satisfi'd so soon

To glare, and snarl, and not destroy? for this

Have Guilty Thoughts disturb'd my Nights, and Blood

Started my Soul in Fancies, broke my Sleeps.

Bled the Kings Son committed to my charge,

An Infant to no-purpose; is it nothing

That my Themyre supplies his Place, and Name?

But doth Arsanes still prevent us? Nay,

He's grown much higher by his fall; our Plots

To tread him down to Earth have mounted him

Above the Clouds. This must not on, again

Brain whet thy sweet Invention, while he climbs,

That he may fall, and set the World in Flames.

[Exit.

Asteria's Apartment.

Asteria, Zayda.

Ast.

Give, give my Passion vent, or I shall burst;

Yes, yes, ye Pow'rs 'twas he, 'twas Adanaxus

[Page]That ruin'd me, my Father, Country, all.

'Tis the same charming Tongue moves Tamerlane,

That caught Nerina's Heart, just so he wept,

And knelt, and pray'd for Mercy at my Feet

For his own Life; as for my Father's, now

▪Tis the same Rival of Andronicus,

The same Triumpher o're the Graecian Slaves,

Turkey destroy'd. I and this faithless Man,

Crown'd with the Pleasures of a Smiling Field,

While we each others Story did relate

So tenderly, and with so much concern,

Promiscuously we gave our Hearts away,

Born on the Wings of interchang'd Discourse.

Then first we sigh'd and smil'd, and smil'd and sigh'd,

And look'd, and wonder'd, and discours'd again,

While the young God stood laughing on the Plain,

And wonder'd at our Sympathy of Souls.

Wou'd you believe it? This same Under-Lover,

This very Adanaxus, from the World,

From all Mankind, was chose to work my ruine.

Zay.

Has he not sav'd your Captive Fathers Life?

Ast.

Did he not make him so? O trifling Comfort!

How now, what Air, what Heav'n is this, what Sky,

What Country? whither am I led? alass,

What am I now become? Still, still my Eyes

Behold those various Images of Death,

And Fatal Ruine they in Prutia saw.

All pale, and shiv'ring there my Mother lies,

And there my Royal Brother bleeding groans;

All this and more this dear, this trayt'rous Man,

This smiling false Deceiver has perform'd.

To them Arsanes, Axalla.

Ax.

See there, my Lord, and think on what your Friend

Advis'd you to.

Ars.

I see my Heav'n near,

Am ravish'd with the light, wish, and admire,

Court and hope, yet dare not enter in

With such a clog of guilt incumber'd round,

[Page]I tremble at the Presence of my Judge.

Ax.

If Conquest were a Crime it was the Gods,

Not yours; nor can she blame your hidden fate;

How full of Fears is Love?

Ast.

Bless me my Stars,

Oh I'm betray'd, look, Zayda, see that Man,

Oh let us shun that swearing, perjur'd Man,

And never let me trust my Heart again.

Ars.

Madam—

Ast.

What means this rude Assault?

Ars.

Thus low I fall

To Beauties and to Mercies Shrine, while from

Their Oracle I learn my Life or Death,

Present Despair or Happiness.

Ast.

Expound

These Riddles, Heav'n!

Ars.

Ha! am I grown so strange

So alter'd, neither known, nor understood?

Or rather are you so forgetful grown?

If so, let these recall your Memory,

[A Bracelet.

The Tender Labour of your busie Love.

This witness of your Vows.

Ast.

What shall I say, or do?

Ungrateful Man!—but let me not recall

My Grief with Words, and stab my bleeding Wounds.

The Gods revenge my Injuries—

[Is going out.

Ars.

Oh hear

Your Guilty Penitent his Crime confess.

Ast.

Some weak Evasion, or deluding Fable;

Oh what excuse, or wile, can you invent,

In recompence of all my Sufferings?

Ars.

Her every word a bleeding Heart-string cuts,

Her every Tear a Vein; your Sufferings?

Oh cast on me the burden of 'em all;

For I can bear for my. Nerina's quiet

The Pains of Hell, with Heav'nly delight.

Ast.

Ill shall I trust so known an Enemy.

Ars.

An Enemy! what Horrors seize my Soul?

Oh clear, clear me of that wretched Name.

Who could have thought the Ridling Fates and meant

[Page]I shou'd have sin'd in bringing help to him:

Who gave me birth?

Ast.

'Tis plain you have betray'd,

For empty Duty have betray'd your Love.

What Name could make Nerina to forget

Her Adanaxus thus—? ah cruel Man!

Ars.

Forget you? had I drunk dull Lethe dry,

Its Waters had on me wrought small effect.

Nerina always was, is present here,

My Mind, my Soul is nothing but Nerina.

This very impious Act was for Nerina,

When losing her, I sought in dreadful Battle

My long wish'd End.

Ast.

Excuses are but vain;

For by your Actions I your kindness weigh▪

Captivity, and shameful Bands are all

The mighty Gifts of your protested Vows.

Have I not heard you say? yes, I have heard,

To me the Tribute of the World was due,

How fit I was to be a Queen, how well

A Diadem wou'd with my Beauty Suit.

Ars.

Oh my Nerina, if I then must stand

Guilty of all the malice of the Stars,

And what great Heav'n decreed, if it be nothing

That by my Pray'rs your Royal Father lives:

Yet sure I've lov'd, and for your love despis'd

All dangers, oppos'd Princes in your Cause;

Witness the Fury of Andronicus;

Nerina may remember too some Months

Imprisonment, harsh Chains, and hardest usage.

Ast.

How quickly passes a Womans Rage that loves!

[Aside.

Now could I lay on Fortune all his Crimes,

Oh Adanaxus—but I have been wrong'd.

[Turning from him.

Ars.

Then Heav'n o'retake me with thy swiftest Justice;

While from your Mouth I here beg leave to die.

Ast.

Oh how I melt to Tenderness and Love!

I cannot now dissemble with my Heart,

Nor curb my Passion with a seeming Fierceness.

Ah, my dear Lord—

Ars.

Pronounce the Fatal Sentence.

[Page]Ast.

While your Nerina lives you must not die,

Your Life is link'd with hers.

Ars.

And can I hope

For Absolution?

Ast.

If you've any Faith,

See, see it Seal'd, while I due Thanks repay

To Heav'n, which has restor'd my dearest Lord;

By this one Gift my Stars have recompenc'd me,

For Mother, Brother, Father, Country, all.

Ars.

Such words as these mix'd with that Grace of Speech,

Wou'd charm the praying Hermite from his Cell,

And draw the rigid Cynick's Heart to Love.

Ast.

But see, we are observ'd—

[Mandricard passes over the Stage.

Ars.

'Tis Mandricard,

That Raven bodes ill Fate.

Man.

Ha! what so close

Billing? believe me Brother, 'tis too much.

Ast.

Did not you mark his black disorder'd Looks?

Between his gnashing Teeth what silent Curses

He mutter'd forth, and threatned us with Frowns?

Ars.

Though he were arm'd with Lightning we'd not fear.

Ast.

Again then we must part—

Ars.

So willingly?

Ast.

Part now to meet again with greater Joys,

More Ravishing Delights; mean while we'l live

On hope.

Ars.

And nourish Nature with the Thoughts

Of Joys to come; now drive thy Chariot, Time,

Incumbent on the Wings of all the Winds;

Nor cease thy flying Pages to maintain,

While I and my Nerina meet again

[Exeunt.

A Garden belonging to the Palace.

Mandricard alone.

Man.

Dull, Coward Heart, weak Flesh, and what is worse,

A Mind ambitious, yet without revenge.

Rise, Mandricard, let not thy Glory sink

In vain Complaints, and feeble Murmurings.

[Page]By this I shou'd have fill'd the World with Ruine,

And on its Fall my early Glory built:

By all my Fury I cou'd laugh to feel

The ruin'd Palace crush my burthen'd Limbs,

So that Arsanes might partake my Fate.

To him Odmar, Abdalla.

Odm.

A happy Morning to my Gracious Lord!

Man.

Gods, that I live to see this hateful day!

No Serpent wing'd, or Dragon-breathing-flame

Cou'd raise my Soul to this unbounded rage,

As doth Arsanes Presence; O ye Furies

Prepare some sudden deadly Pest to blast him.

Odm.

He's fir'd, and now to blow him into Flames—

Busie, my Lord, and full of rowling thoughts?

Man.

Dost thou not see Revenge hang on my Brow?

Odm.

Divide the heavy burthen of your Breast,

And witness for me, Hell, there's not a Path

That leads to your Ambition, vast desires,

Your Odmar dares not tread to make you happy,

Though with the fatal hazard of his Life.

Abd.

Speak but the word, and I'm a true born Son

Of Scythian breed, can strangle, poison, kill,

When e're your Interest shall arm my Fury.

Man.

Now these are Men according to my wish,

[Aside.

First swear to keep the Secret—

Both.

Shou'd it be

To blaspheme Mahomet, we swear.

Man.

Why sticks

My Tongue to speak the happy Deed my Mind

Long since has acted? were you bred in Blood,

And nurs'd with Milk of Tygers, have you each

Murder'd your Thousands?

Abd.

All my Life has been

But a continual practice how to kill

Most silent, and most sure,

Odm.

I from my Youth

Have conversant in Plots and Treasons been,

And artfully have study'd by the fall

[Page]Of Men above me, how to raise my self

To highest Place, and Power.

Man.

Instruments

As fit as Hell cou d make, for my Design.

How long shall I, like some vile Shrub beneath

A spreading Oak, stand overshadow'd by

Arsanes mighty Pow'r?

Abd.

Does it hit there? this Steel

Has entred Brass, and cut through Coats of Mail,

And will serve still to lop or branch or so

From that tall Oak.

Odm.

We'l take it by the Roots.

Man.

His Heart.

Odm.

And drink his Blood.

Abd.

And eat the Corse.

Man.

Like Tartars spoke; the Means?

Abd.

By force of Arms.

Odm.

By Stratagem, Fate-working Stratagem.

Then first the Captive Princes, to deceive

Must be our care, that she in spight of all

The tenderness she to Arsanes bears,

Be brought into your Arms a Glorious Prey.

Man.

That serves but for one half of my revenge,

That for my Love, but what for my Ambition?

Odm.

You have no sooner thought, but I have acted;

Lyes are the steps by which black Treason climbs

Confederacy with Turkey, dark Designs

With Bajaset, and contracts with the Princess.

This Head, that Hand can fail in no Attempt.

Abd.

Where you the Platform lay, I swear to build.

Man.

My Noble Lords, now you are Friends indeed,

I envy not Arsanes now with all

His crowd of supple Flatterers, that cringe

And buz about his new-reviving Greatness;

Let them speak Friendship which you act, and now

To our great Charges silent as the night,

And hush'd as our Designs, we go; Farewell.

[Exeunt Odm. Abd.

'Tis sure, these Men with Trayterous Designs

To the destructive part may much avail.

But on what Ground to build my happy Love,

[Page]And how to gain the Fair Asteria's Heart,

Instruct me, Alha; O Prince, 'tis enough,

Enough thou see'st to gain her mortal hate,

That by thy cursed Hand her Brother fell;

What will she say?—but oh what canst thou say

In thy excuse? when by thy Hellish Arts

She hears Arsanes basely, poorly Murder'd?

Yet, Mandricard, cheer up thy drooping Spirits,

She loves the Man that sought her Fathers ruine,

By Heav'n her Brothers Murd'rers less in fault.

'Tis fix'd; and on that hope I build my Bliss.

To him Ispatia.

Isp.

I wou'd not harbour such a jealous thought

Within my Breast; can Mandricard prove false

To his Ispatia, O unequal Gods!

Prevent this mischief; what disast'rous chance

Has summon'd me to this unhappy place

With Eyes and Ears, to see and hear his falshood,

To which my Soul cou'd never credit give?

But yet I'le smother it, and try if words,

With all the force of Tears, may turn his mind.

Health to my Noble Lord, Great Mandricard,

How fares your Highness?

Man.

Well, Ispatia, well,

The better that I hear thee ask me so;

But I am busie now, leave me, Ispatia.

Isp.

My Lord!

Man.

I prithee leave me,

We shall have idle hours enough for Love.

Isp.

How, my dear Lord? I little did expect

To meet you thus on this Triumphant Day.

Man.

Blame then the Fates, not me.

Isp.

Doth any Wound

Disturb your Rest, my Lord? If so, behold

Your weak Physitian, do not scorn my help.

Man.

Thanks to your care, your Mandricard is whole.

Isp.

My Care? O trifling word—He shou'd have cast

Away that cool Endearment on the Crowd

[Page]That fawn'd, and welcom'd him at his return.

Are all my longing Wishes come to this?

And is it, is it thus, I must receive you,

Is this the Fruit of all my early Moans,

And Midnight-sighs, when shall I hope for Rest

If I must now despair?

Man.

The Curses of

A Wife are most unsufferable, now cou'd I—

Isp.

Are not my broken Slumbers worth a Look?

Not one kind word for all my long Complaints?

One Smile wou'd be as much as I dare claim,

Though I cou'd wish for Millions.

Man.

Give me leave

I prithee to repose my self a while;

'Twill add a fresh, and stronger Life to Love.

Heav'ns! is she senseless?

Isp.

And can Mandricard

Think me unwilling to partake his Grief

That I have always done; and when I heard

Of any Princes Fate, half dead with fear,

I listen'd with impatience for the Truth

Of all the Story of my Life or Death,

Lest Mandricard shou'd prove that hapless Prince.

But still those fears did joyfully deceive

My Heart, reviving with the welcome News,

The dear, dear hopes of seeing you again,

So Great, so Glorious!

Man.

Oh that my inward Pray'rs

Cou'd move with pity some relenting Pow'r

To raise a Mountain, or a Sea betwixt us;

And snatch me from the Daggers of her Tongue.

Isp.

Believe me, Prince, you over-load my Soul

With Thoughts of what shou'd move such discontent,

Knowing the innocency of my Breast.

Man.

You'r not in fault, Ispatia, give me leave

To think on those who are.

Isp.

If to be freed

From your Ispatia's company be Rest,

Then I'le not rob you of those pleasing Minutes;

Though I could willingly for Ages gaze

[Page]O're all that Field of awful Majesty,

And wonder how it ever open lay

To entertain so poor, so mean a Love.

I go, my Lord, and leave you to your Rest;

For which I would all Joy, all Bliss resign,

Your Rest which me delights, for it is mine.

[Exit.

Man.

So, is she gone at last, then farewell Wife,

And welcome Love, thou highest Bliss of Life.

While through my Rivals Heart I cut my way,

And with a Mistress my past dangers pay.

And this fond Wretch shall the sweet War begin,

Arsanes shall conclude the Bloody Scene,

I'le, while they groan in death, enjoy my Queen.

ACT III.

Ispatia sola,

Isp.

HE's gone, he's fled like Water shrunk away,

The more I strove to hold him fast; Curst Fate!

When every Matron sprightfully with fresh Joys,

And every Virgin full of harmless mirth,

Share the glad Pastimes of this happy day;

Happy to all but me, whom one wou'd think

Its Triumphs most concern'd, since Mandricard

Bears all its mighty weight of crowding Honours,

The haughty Conqueror Tartary adores.

Yet after all his far-blown Victories,

I blush to say this Great, this Glorious Man

Is vanquish'd, vanquish'd even by his Slave,

And wears the Fetters of a Captive Maid.

But sure I have misconstrued all he said;

He did but try me, my Eyes dazeled

When I beheld his Gestures, when I thought

I see him frown, I'le not believe my Thoughts,

Poor Womens Thoughts are wandring Iealousies;

[Page]We fancy, dream, and real things suppose.

Yet go thou silent trial of my Fate,

[The Letter.

Her Characters I've here exactly drawn,

And every Letter subtilly have copy'd,

Which might I think deceive Arsanes self,

Which he might see, and not perceive the Cheat.

But oh why do I thus delay my Wishes!

Within there, Hamzeh, trusty Slave, appear.

[Enter Hamzeh.

Ham.

Most Honour'd Princess, what's your great Command?

Isp.

Provide this Letter carefully be sent,

As from Asteria, to your Royal Lord,

Be gone; and wing to Mandricard your way,

Each minute seems an hour, each hour a day.

[Exeunt.

The Palace.

Enter Tamerlane, Odmar, Abdalla.

Tam.

Make me believe as soon the Stars are faln.

Abd,

Yet, Sir, with any but a Fathers Eyes

Black discontent is seen to hover o're

His darken'd Brow, his wild unstable Looks

May render him suspitious.

Tam.

Wash thy Mouth▪

Thou foul Fomenter of suggested Lies,

And politick Deceit, think not you, Slaves,

We'r ignorant from whom this Message comes.

Abd.

See what your Plotting comes to.

[To Odmar aside.

Odm.

Dreaded Prince!

This Tongue was never known to fill your Ears

With painted fraud, and poisonous deceit,

My Counsels hitherto ev'n you have thought

Loyal and wise, and grave as Cicero's,

And have preserv'd your Happiness as much

As his did Romes—yet, Sir, your Slave

Confesses all his Projects had been vain,

Had not your Vertue perfected those Actions,

Of which we but the bare Idea shew'd.

Abd.

What's all this to Arsanes?

[Aside.

Tam.

Speak thy Thoughts,

[Page]And do not flatter, nor thy self, nor me,

Thy Words fly wide from all thy former Sense;

Thou nam'dst Arsanes, tedious Slave, proceed.

Odm.

Now witness for me all ye Pow'rs Divine,

And thou that know'st the Secrets of my Heart,

Punish me strangely, Alha; if I speak

Ought that I fear'd to speak before the Altar,

Or swear it on the Alcoran for truth.

Abd.

He's at his Pray'rs now, sure his Conscience bites him,

Heav'n, he'l confess, we're ruin'd.

Tam.

Odmar, rise,

Give me but patience, Gods, to hear him out.

Odm.

Though loath, I must unfold the burning Secret,

Both for my Conscience, and my Country's sake;

The proud Arsanes, jealous of the Love

You show deservedly to Mandricard,

Bears mighty Projects in his lab'ring Brain,

Envy, Revenge, with all that nat'ral hate

He ows his Brother, stir him up against

The Laws of Man, and Nature; his Ambition

Flies Sir no lower a pitch, than at your Crown.

Abd.

Ha! I begin to find him, he talks Sense!

Tam.

Now, Villain, give me Proof, substantial Reason.

For what the poison of thy Gall has vented,

Or else by Heav'n thou dy'st.

Abd.

Ha! goes it so;

Villain, and Death! Plague of your Stratagems.

Odm.

Scars will remain after their Wounds are whole;

The highest Palaces stand most to view,

And are most look'd at, when their Lustre fades.

Arsanes cannot brook his late disgrace,

And thou forgiven, blushes with disdain

That he was banish'd; scarce an hour ago

The Valiant Mandricard in Pious Suit

Sought Reconcilement with his raging Brother.

Abd.

This does not sound like truth, it has no face

Of Probability.

[To Odm.

Odm.

When in a lone

And vacant place we found your Royal Son.

But oh how chang'd from what he fain wou'd seem,

[Page]Must'ring up such a train of impious words,

And bitter curses; Heav'n, we cou'd scarce believe

It had been he; but strait approaching nigher,

We over-heard him in a murmuring Tone

Say thus; The House of Ottoman shall soon regain

Its Empire by that Arm it newly fell;

Hearing all this, the pious Mandricard

Came near, saluted low the proud Arsanes;

He frown'd, and lifted high his haughty Head,

Then flung away, and left us in amazement.

Tam.

'Twas done as to his well-known Enemies,

And, Traytor, was it not that Loyal Son,

That brave Arsanes? (whom by Heav'n I'm proud

That he should call me Father) was't not he,

Who spight of all the base indignities,

Under whose load he sunk to banishment,

Came with new Strength so wonderfully fierce?

So unexpected was all kind of Succour,

Not one among our gazing Troops,

Scarce I my self, but thought him Mahomet.

Odm.

Too well, dread Prince, he fought, if all were known,

He has already half eclips'd your Fame,

Witness all Tartary, which bowing low,

Kisses the very Ground on which he treads.

Do not you hear Arsanes mighty Name

Eccho'd through every Street, long live Arsanes,

A Thousand Voices ev'n in your Court reply,

While Tamerlane must stand neglected by,

And wait upon the Triumphs of his Son.

Abd.

By Hell thou art the very Soul of lying.

Odm.

Nay more I fear, it is no false report,

The specious Acts he wrought in your defence,

Cut but his way into your Peoples Hearts,

And a wide Path to his Ambition made.

This I may safely swear, my Lord, he's false.

Abd

The same swear I.

Tam.

You both are Villains,

False, treacherous, perjur'd, damn'd Villains,

Whose spotted Souls regard not Innocence,

Nor Conscience trembles, when you dare accuse it.

[Page]And now to let you know how little Faith

Your seeming Counsels fix upon my Soul,

Call here the Prince Arsanes—spight of yours

And Mandricards more hateful Policies,

I'le Crown his Vertue with Rewards so large,

Shall raise your envy high, as is his Fate.

Enter Arsanes.

Come to my Arms my best, my Loyal Son,

Let me embrace thee all, my long-wish'd Joys

At last are come; rise my better self:

See there the Authors of thy former woes,

See them, that wou'd renew thy Miseries;

Villain, is this a Face shews discontent,

What wild unstable looks are here, what frown,

What gesture that may render him suspected?

Ars.

I always thought those Men my Enemies;

Yet I confess, Great Sir, I have deserv'd

All that their envy or your juster wrath

Have made me suffer: For whom e're he be

So just a Prince thinks false, or but suspects,

By Heav'n he's false; nay then 'tis a Crime,

A Crime unpardonable in innocence

To say she's wrong'd.

Abd.

He has a Tongue as smooth

[To Odmar aside.

As yours, pray Heav'n it may but prove as fatal.

Tam.

You false, believe me; nor thy Conqueror

Your injur'd Vertue claims a Recompence

So large, with guilty thoughts I blushing hear,

That now to share that Empire you have sav'd,

With that your Arms have won, will be a light,

An empty Offering to your vast deserts;

Men stile us Scythians barbarous and wild,

But I appeal to the Immortal Pow'rs,

If ever Rome in all her Pomp cou'd show

An Act like what Arsanes has perform'd.

An Act so good, Athens wou'd blush to hear,

As wanting fit example to compare.

An Act to brave the Heroes from their Orbs,

[Page]The famous Senate of unconquer'd Minds,

Start back, and think their Glory faintly won,

So much Arsanes has surpass'd their Deeds.

An Act—

Ars.

Of which I thought the insolence

Might rather raise your Anger, than your Love,

To see an Exil'd Slave, who durst return

Uncall'd to share the Trophies of your Fame.

Yet let me plead but this in my defence,

My Duty to so just a Father, and

So good a Prince, work'd high my ravish'd Soul,

Nor could my Blood be chill'd with outward fear,

Or inward grief, but boyling in my Veins,

As one shou'd say 'twas part of Tamerlanes,

Stir'd me to go where Fame and Duty call'd.

Abd.

Ruin'd as handsomely as Hell cou'd wish us.

Tam.

Now in the Face of thy worst Enemies

Receive the highest Honours we can give;

Let loose thy vast Ambition, let it fly

At Riches, Honour, Love, or once at all.

Your Word shall guide our Heart, your Wishes bind

Our Will; your Pray'rs command what e're they crave,

Ask, and believe it granted e're you speak.

Abd.

Now cou'd I cut thy Throat instead of his.

[To Odm.

Ars.

Lawrels, and Crowns are Tamerlanes alone,

And the Rich Entrails of the Golden Earth

Serve but to fill the Lustre of his Name.

It is, Great Sir, a light Request I make,

And yet in my esteem worth Worlds, so great

A Prize the fair Asteria seems to me,

That were I seated on the Scythian Throne,

With swarms of Tributary Kings about me,

And subject Princes waiting my Commands,

By all my wishes I shou'd scarce enjoy

One moments rest, without the beauteous Bride.

Tam.

Ye Gods, that ever such antipathy

Shou'd be united; Oh cou'd I but taste

The sleepy Waters of dull Lethe's Lake,

That I might now forget those hateful words.

I tell thee, Prince, thy fond Request is vain,

[Page]Which nor consists with Duty, nor with Honour.

She is thy Enemy, Arsanes, cease

To think of her.

Odm.

Take Heart, Abdalla, see,

The Prince is Planet-struck, and Tamerlane

Pursues his ruine.

Ars.

Duty bids me not

Dispute your dread Commands, yet I must blame

The coldness of my Stars, and too hard Fate.

Tam.

It is not fancy sure disturbs my mind,

And leads my wav'ring thoughts to jealousie;

Yet I cou'd shun thee now, Arsanes, here

Thy dark Request sticks deep: Farewell, and when

You make your next, if not as a Son,

Ask what is fitting for a Friend.

[Exit.

Abd.

'Tis just,

As Hell and we cou'd wish.

Odm.

Now is our time,

To shed out all our Poison on his Soul,

Which Heav'n nor Arsanes may controul.

[Exeunt.

Ars.

Now from a fairest Heav'n of surest hope

Am I thus faln? O sudden turn of Fortune!

Quite ruin'd e're I scarce perceiv'd a Change.

Thus stands some mighty Tower, the Bulwark of

A Nation, shooting up her lofty Head

Above the Clouds, gaz'd and wonder'd at,

But in a moment see to Ashes turn'd

Its tot'ring pride on some base Traytors Guilt,

And scarce the marks of all its Glory left.

Thus—But oh the Star that guilds my days.

She comes; and now my fading sorrows pass,

Like showry Clouds before the Glorious Sun.

Enter Asteria.

Ast.

My dearest Lord, so may you find all Joys

My Heart can wish you, as you shall unfold

The Mystick Secret of that sad Complaint

Just now you sent to Heav'n.

Ars.

Most impious were I

[Page]Could I while I possess those numerous Worlds

Of fullest pleasures hanging o're your Brow,

Those endless Comforts basking in your Eyes,

And all the Charms which wait upon your Smile,

Ungratefully and foolishly complain.

Pard'n me ye Pow'rs, if I have offended,

For to Arsanes you are wond'rous kind,

Most bountiful, who in the fair Nerina

All I can ask, all I can wish, have giv'n.

Ast.

Yes, Adanaxus, we are free to love,

And I without a crime can give a Heart,

With Honour, Duty, and a Fathers Will.

Ars.

What is't I hear? what sudden happiness

Raps my glad Soul?

Ast.

'Tis true, as strange.

Ars.

O Bliss!

O Harmony! but how the wond'rous Change

Was wrought, dulls all my busie thoughts to guess.

Ast.

Then first I knelt, and wept, and kiss'd his Feet,

And told how I had been his Darling from

My very Infancy, and what Delights

My Childish Sports afforded him—how dear

He priz'd my Mother, made him sensible

Of his past Joys with her, and then conjur'd him

By her blest Ashes, and Eternal Name,

To have compassion on me.

Ars.

Words like these

Wou'd charm the rav'ning Wolf with hunger pinch'd,

With a strange softness to forego his Prey,

And make him tender as the panting Lamb.

Ast.

But yet the joyful Grant he had not seal'd,

When once again I did embrace his Knees,

And call'd to his remembrance how he liv'd

By your kind intercession, though he scorns

The Life you gave; yet frankly he confess'd

It was a Noble pity in a Mind

So great as yours.

Ars.

Oh the Angelick Sound!

Cou'd yet the moving Argument be vain?

Ast.

It was, my Lord, till turning to a Theme

[Page]Of more concern, I told him I lov'd,

How I was lov'd, with what a generous Flame

You answered my Affections, how by you

I was protected from the violence

Of rash Andronicus; and then he smil'd

And said 'twas nobly done, and as a Lover.

Ars.

And yet cou'd he deny? Oh what remain'd,

What cou'd you farther urge?

Ast.

Your Noble Acts,

Your constant Vertue, and unviolate Faith,

How weighing not your wrongs then thick upon you,

Banish'd by your great Fathers jealous rage,

Your Loyal Vertue still unshook, unconquer'd,

Brought Kingdoms to his Throne, and Lawrels to his Head.

This he was strangely taken with, and lost

Much of his fury; wondred, and grew kind,

And swore he cou'd not be a Foe to Vertue

Of so sublime a Nature, then he rose,

And gave a soft Command, and charg'd me love you,

Not as a Prince, not as the Tyrants Son,

But something more than Man, and nearer to the Gods.

Ars.

Thus kneel kind Angels at the Feet of Heav'n,

When ready to destroy the impious World,

They with soft Pray'rs recall the bolted Thunder,

And ev'n o're-take the swiftest Lightnings Course.

Blest that I am in thy most charming, sweet,

Prevailing Oratory; thus cou'd we move

But Tamerlanes far more obdurate Heart,

Then were we blest.

Ast.

Then were we blest indeed.

Enter Zayda confus'dly, and in hast.

Zay.

O dismal Chance, O fatal Destiny!

Ast.

What means this dreadful Voice, not Croaking Ravens,

With Midnight-shreiks, e're thus disturb'd my Soul.

Zay.

Your Father—

Ast.

Say, what can his ill-tim'd Fate,

Malicious Chance, and inauspicious Stars,

Do to advance his full-blown Spring of Sorrow?

[Page]Zay.

Unheard-of Cruelty! the Faithless Tyrant,

Incens'd by your great Fathers haughty Rage,

Who though in Chains, with his great Spirit frights

The Jealous King, and with a Princely scorn

Vexes his raging Soul; which to Revenge,

Fierce Tamerlane (O cruel Artifice!)

Lock'd in an Iron Cage his Rival Slave,

While he in barbarous Triumph mounted on

His Shoulders to his Chariot.

Ars.

Savage Prince.

Ast.

O Cruelty! Oh more than Hellish Torment!

Zay.

Impatient of his wrongs, the Royal Captive,

As he through Samarcanda's Streets was led

A publick Trophy in his moving Prison,

Against the massy Bars with rage he dash'd

His Royal Head, while from the fatal Wound

Gush'd out that Blood, which long the greatest Life

The World cou'd ever proudly boast preserv'd,

Who in a Storm of—

Ast.

O I faint, I faint,

To hear you out will send my Soul away,

E're I can to his Fate my Duty pay.

Farewell, my Lord.

Ars.

O my dearest Life,

Let me, let me support thy fainting Beauties.

Ast.

O Adanaxus, now we'r lost again.

Ars.

Unhappy Fate! thus ever in our Joys

A sudden Thunderbolt divides us.

[Exeunt severally.

Enter Mandricard alone with a Letter.

Man.

What shall I do? shall I not go? not now?

When thus the true Idea of that Face

Calls my glad Soul, which we adore in Angels?

(Great Mandricard, I'le sing thee in my Lap)

[Reading.

I come, I come, Asteria, Mercury,

Lend me thy winged Buskins, that in thought

I may in swiftness penetrate the Air.

O welcome, welcome be thou to my Soul,

I kiss thee for her sake, whose Ivory Hands

[Page]Have deep engrav'd these Golden Characters.

To him Ispatia unseen.

Isp.

So now, Ispatia, thou hast view'd his Heart,

And seen it flaming with another Dart;

Then to compleat the Sum of all my Pains,

Death is the only Torment that remains.

Exit.

Man.

To thee, sweet Saint, I come, I fly to thee.

But what ill Fates have intercepted me?

[Enter Arsanes.

Arsanes here? wou'd Hell it were his Ghost,

Now by my Arms a far more welcome sight.

Yet now for my defence a well-forg'd Lie,

With a false shew of Penitential Kindness,

Will be most exquisite.

[Coming near and bowing to Arsanes.

Ars.

What wou'd this Woman?

Man.

Ha!

Ars.

Art thou

Offended with the Name, then change the Art:

For all I yet can see in thee is Woman,

Forc'd Tears, feign'd Flatteries, and deep Dissembling,

These seldom sure possess a Manly Breast.

Man.

If ought I've done, can be by what I'le do—

Ars.

There's death in thy deceitful Eyes and Tongue.

Man.

Deceit, and Death, what mean those Mystick words,

Which strike like double Daggers to my Heart?

Ars.

Art thou not false?

Nan.

Destructive Fame, thy worst

Blow all thy lying Trumpets through the World,

And to all Ears pronounce me false, yet not

The blasting Breath of all thy hundred Mouths

Can on my injur'd Vertue cast a blot.

Ars.

The Careful Pilot riding on the Main,

May tack about, and shun the highest Rocks;

But those he fears which skulk beneath the Waves,

The unseen Instruments of grinning Death.

You work my ruine, not with Hand, but Heart,

The lurking Treasure of black Designs.

Man.

Had I by any other Man been drawn

In such a Character, so much unlike,

[Page]So inconsistent with a Princely Mind,

That Man had with his final ruine brought

Swift vengeance on himself for what he said;

By Heav'n! had he but thought it, he had dy'd:

With you quite otherwise I beg my peace,

Nature commands you seal my happiness.

Ars.

Ha! are the Wounds I bear so light?

Man.

What Wounds?

This Tongue, this Heart, and Hand are innocent.

Ars.

Ask'st thou what Wounds? So did fell Atreus ask

His fainting brother, drunk with humane Blood,

And heavy with the weight of his own Bowels

Set to him as a Banquet; what he ail'd.

I tell thee Brother, 'twas wretched thing,

An exil'd Slave, and Heir to Tamerlane.

Man.

Is that not blotted out? I'le hear no more;

Since you my Friendship, and my love contemn,

I scorn all Treaties of a further Peace.

Come on, Revenge; like Wolves, and spotted Tygers

We'l live together in perpetual strife,

And when we meet it must be always War.

Of which be this the Sacred, binding Gage.

Throw him the Letter and Exit.

Ars.

'Twas boldly spoke, and much unlike himself,

He ne'r profess'd himself my Foe till now.

To him Axalla.

Ax.

Saw you not Mandricard, my Lord?

Ars.

I did;

Behold this witness of his treacherous hate.

[Opening the Letter.

Dazle my Eyes? or is it from Asteria?

What sudden madness seizes my lost Senses?

And makes me think what is impossible?

'Tis all delusion—Ha—from my Nerina!

Directed too to Mandricard? Oh Heav'n!

At her Apartment.

Ax.

Oh the Monster Woman!

Ars.

'Tis sure some feign'd device!

Ax.

Her own false Hand,

[Page]Her Hand that writes her Hearts unconstant Love.

Ars.

How oft have I such tender Characters,

Of the same size and make, lock'd in my Breast,

And kiss'd and worship'd 'em like little Idols.

They'r like—what though they are? so polish'd Glass

Resembles Chrystal mimically Fair,

And is not so.

Ax.

But Women are most Women.

When they are truly Hypocrites.

Ars.

But my Nerina, glory of her Sex,

How have I always thought her more than Woman!

In whom th' Almighty Painter had exprest

The Fairest Pattern of exactest Angels,

Her Soul he drew the very Lively Image

Of some bless'd Saint, or ever-happy Martyr;

But oh she of that Rank of Angels Proves,

Whose due Commission's only to destroy,

Arm'd with fierce Judgments of the Wrath Divine.

Ax.

Then shun those Judgments which you see so nigh,

So plain, so manifest, and now shou'd you—

Ars.

I cannot, and I pray thee do not curse her,

'Tis punishment enough sh'as giv'n her self

To one that is unconstant as her self,

And I with pity leave her to her choice.

Ax.

O the glad Sound! and will you quit this fondness,

And follow Honour, and hunt after Fame?

Ars.

No, my Axalla, think not I can see

Her Beauties in my presence ravish'd from me,

And all the Sacred Store prophanely rifl'd.

Ax.

Then work your just Revenge, on him, on her,

On all—

Ars.

Be hush'd, and dare not name Revenge;

The Name of Brother aws my rising Fury,

And for Nerina, she is yet so dear,

I'le suffer all things for her, quit my Honours,

My hopes of Scepters, and my right to Crowns,

Nay her dear self for her more certain ease.

Ax.

Strangely resolv'd!

Ars.

Like Love undone by Fate,

Oh cou'd I tell where blear-ey'd Sorrow dwells,

[Page]Where bellowing out her Soul in discontent,

The empty Walls reverberate her woe.

To some such place, Axalla, let us fly;

There will I on some cold hard Stone lay down

My mournful Head, while from my furrow'd Cheeks

My frequent Tears promiscuously fall;

One day I will bewail my own misfortunes,

Another will I kindly dedicate

To the lov'd Memory of Nerina's Father.

Whole Months and Years in tedious sorrow pass,

For my Nerina, that false, much-lov'd Maid,

Complain of all my angry Foes above,

With mournful sighs the hollow Ecchoes move,

And the last Groans of a departing Love.

To Heav'n these only Vows, these Pray'rs I'le make,

Nerina may her fatal Choice forsake,

And from her bosom cast the lurking Snake.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

A Councel-Table.

Enter Tamerlane, Odmar, Abdalla, with other Lords and Attendants.

Tam.

'TIs time to look about me, I have slept

Too long, lull'd into visionary Dreams

Of fleeting pleasures, which I waking, find

Most dangerous, and for a seeming Son

My Bosom has receiv'd the worst of Foes.

Arsines fled? and Conference with Turkey?

O Viper, Parricide, but say, my Friends.

What timely Fortune has his Crimes reveal'd.

Abd.

Ev'n that which ruines all Conspiracies,

A squeamish Conscience, and a light Reward.

The Ministers he hir'd to his Designs

[Page]Stand Witnesses against him.

Tam.

Bring 'em forth.

Exit Odmar, and re-enters with two Slaves.

Odm.

Now act the Villains home, now is your time.

[Aside to Slaves.

Tam.

Friends to our Crown, for Friends you seem to be,

Whose care has been employ'd to serve our State

From those apparent Dangers threatned it.

We charge you in our Holy Prophets Name

Lay forth the Traytors Heart before our Eyes.

Odm.

Swear on the Alcoran your Accusations

Are just and true—Oh the unhappy Prince.

Abd.

S'heart, well play'd Fox, he seems to hear with grief

What he suborns false Witnesses to swear.

[Aside.

1. Slave.

By all the Orders of Tartarian Pow'rs

Bound by Allegiance to our Sovereign,

We here are present to accuse and swear

Arsanes guilty of these Articles:

No more than which himself did testifie,

And gave us in Commission to perform.

First that this Prince holds private Conference

With the surviving Race of Bajaset.

That with the fair Asteria's Love enflam'd,

He seeks his Rival Brothers hated Life;

Then with Axalla that he doth combine,

To Poison Tamerlane our Royal Master,

And with Asteria to usurp his Throne.

Tam.

Treach'ry unheard beyond the Thought of Man!

But tell me, Friend, where bides the Traytor?

Odm.

Speak,

Say any where.

[Aside to the Slave.

Sl.

n a lone Wood, my Lord,

After a long Complaint against the Prince▪

His Royal Brother; full of envious hate

And proud disdain; after he had rehears'd

All his pretended wrongs in Banishment

Receiv'd; blushing Scarlet deep with Shame,

He rose to an Arraignment of the State,

And our establish'd Laws—

Then impiously against his Father rag'd,

And swore Revenge.

[Page]Abd.

Methinks now Stratagem

Comes on to something.

[Aside.

Odm.

These are practis'd Villains.

2. Sl.

Himself he said was streight for Prusia bound,

Where the young Rebel Princes wait his coming.

Tam.

Perdition on the Viper! how he bites!

Could e're such baseness spring from Tamerlane.

Is this his Piety so far renown'd?

That Loyalty which seem'd inviolable?

Those Oaths that cou'd have forc'd all Heav'n believe him?

Is this his scorn of Honours and Rewards?

And did he starve his hungry Appetite,

That with a stronger Fury he might run

Wolf-like upon our Life and Diadem?

And gaping, swallow all the Golden Prey.

Fly, fly, Arsanes, breath on what Soil thou wilt

Thy hated Life, though every Sea shou'd joyn

In one vast Ocean, their assistant Floods

To part us ever, though thy adverse Feet

In unknown Tracks kick at our upper Earth,

Though o're the Starry Pole thou soaring fly'st

Above old Winter, and deep Beds of Snow,

Our painted Vengeance shall pursue thy Soul,

And spy thee in thy darkest Caverns hid,

Pierce through thy Mansion with our sharp Revenge,

Or send our Curses, where we cannot reach.

[Exit.

Odm.

See there, Arsanes, how the rowling Waves

Come on amain, and dash thee on the Rock.

Abd.

Methinks we two now like the Sea-born Giants,

Great Otus, and tall Ephaltes stand,

And grow out all their Acres in a moment.

Odm.

Our Fortunes Friend in this vast Enterprise

Have made us free to give the Scythian Throne

To whom we please; Come, Mandricard, and claim

Thy vast Possessions, ask us Heav'n next,

And we'l do more with these two Fertile Brains,

Then e're Briareus with his hundred Hands.

[Exeunt.

[Page]Asteria's Apartment.

Who is discover'd lying on a Couch, a Cupid in Soft Musick descends over her and Sings.

Song.

HOw pleasant Vertue are thy Slumbers,

Sound thy Sleeps, and sweet thy Dreams,

While thee no Fear, no Guilt incumbers,

Danger frights, or Thought condemns?

2.

Thou naked with resistless Armour

Dost thy self revenge, and shield,

Thou silent art so sweet a Charmer,

To thy Reasons all must yield.

3.

On thy fair Brow sits smiling Honour,

Iustice waits thy awful Voice,

Thou Heir to Blessings art, thou Owner

Of Rich Fortunes Richest Ioys.

4.

Thou, what is Heav'ns greatest Blessing,

Art the Darling Child of Love,

Though Heav'n yet hinder from possessing,

It will all thy Pains remove.

[The Cupid ascends.

Asteria awakes in great disorder.

Ast.

What Mystick Objects entertain my Soul,

And hold me in amazement? how confus'd

Are all my Thoughts, kind Joys with Troubles mixt,

Hope with dread Fear, disorder'd mass of Fancy!

The End seem'd good, but oh that End is vain,

As fleeting as its Shade, as womanish

And fond a Dream, as to my weary'd Eyes

Thought cou'd suggest, or Mimick Fancy play.

[Page]Is going out. Enter Mandricard staying her.

Man.

So on fair Paphos Isle the wanton Queen

Her Shelly Chariot drawn with sporting Doves,

Had lightly enter'd in a smiling Calm,

Ready to cruise upon her Parent Seas,

When from a-far the Warlike God espy'd her,

And brought her back to more substantial Pleasures.

Ast.

What means this fatal Comet to our House,

Near what new birth of mischief does he shine?

Man.

At length my Pray'rs are heard, my Vows have reach'd

The Deity, to which they were address'd.

Accept, O Fairest Pow'r, from a Prince,

The Faithful Sacrifice of Humblest Thanks,

For all the Blessings you have pour'd upon him.

Ast.

What Blessings, or what Prince? yet shou'd there be

Any my tenderness has gratifi'd,

He's chose an ill Ambassador I'm sure

To pay his just Acknowledgments, which needs

Must taste ungrateful from the Man I hate.

Man.

Heav'n, how discordant are her Hand and Tongue!

Think not, Asteria, Mandricard cou'd trust

To any Second his most Bosom Secret,

I the Receiver-kneel to pay the Debt.

Ast.

If you from me a Kindness did receive,

I'm sure 'twas small, and may be paid with ease.

Man.

How unconcern'd she speaks, and looks disdain!

Yes, Madam, Heart for Heart is easie change;

Flames will meet Flames, and Fires joyn with Fires,

Ravage through all, and leave no middle space.

Ast.

Rav'st thou, or do my Ears drink in a Sound

As real, as 'tis monstrous? Oh my Stars,

Protect me, and remove the hateful Object.

Man.

Yet Princess, your fair Hand has otherwise

Decipher'd me—the Glorious Mandricard—

Ast.

My Hand!

Man.

Your Hand, which on the happy Paper prest

The Praises of your much lov'd Mandricard.

Ast.

Curst be that Hand that writes thee ought but Fiend,

[Page]Curst be that Tongue that speaks thee ought but Monster.

Man.

Unfold, Great Alha, this Mysterious Secret!

Come, you dissemble, and a modest shame

Defers our Joys.

Ast.

I'de clasp a Serpent sooner;

Had my base Hand e're thus bely'd my Heart,

As an infectious Limb I'de tear it from

My tainted Body, for the Wild Beasts, or Flames.

Man.

You need not now, Asteria, use such Language,

There are no Oaths, no Promises, no Vows

To be kept now: Sure Death has swallow'd all,

And cold Arsanes in their ruine lies.

Ast.

Yes, I will keep 'em still to punish thee,

My Faith shall be the Scourge of my Revenge,

My Constancy shall keep thee on a Rack

Of Everlasting Torments, and my Oaths

Shall one by one strike thee with mad despair;

Thou art my Slave, and thou shalt live like one.

Thinkest thou, fond Fomenter of my Grief,

I do not hate that Man to Death, nay Hell,

That caus'd Arsanes Ruine? Proud Prince, I do;

Remember, Sir, my Brothers, Fathers Wrongs,

And blush to ask a Grace of me; to love?

No not to look, or visit me with Monsters.

Man.

You treat me, Fair one, so severe a way,

As forces me to plead in my defence.

If in the War your Brother fell, not I,

But Fortune guiding my far-wandring Steel,

Cut off the forward Youth—

For your Great Fathers, and Arsanes Wrongs,

I'm innocent as harmless Infants are.

Ast.

You innocent! so's Hell; so is your Train

Of Fellow-Villains, Infernal Ministers,

Are they not Prince?

Man.

What e're you'l have 'em be

They are, they must; and which of 'em but dares

Offer to plead his Innocence, he dies.

Ast.

Fine Flatterer! thus did that supple Tongue

Sooth Tamerlane to hate the best of Princes:

Nor have you ended there, but cherish still

[Page]Your Breast with thinking with what subtle Art

You spread your Snares to catch the Prey design'd,

And glory in the Murderous Success.

Man.

How sweet her Looks, yet dreadful to approach!

Madam, a Prince repentant begs your Pardon,

And as the Fury of the Scythian Sword

Is now asswag'd, untaught to hurt or kill,

So let your Anger be allay'd with mildness;

So will the World in peaceful Triumph sit,

And smilling, pall the envious Fates designs.

To them Ispatia.

Ha! whence that Hellish Fury like her self

Has brought her here? Curse on the twining Serpent!

Shall I ne'r shake her off! by Heav'n it comes!

A swift Contrivance whets my sudden Thought,

Which shall divide us ever, far as Heav'n,

Or far as Hell their Center hold from Earth.

[Exit.

Isp.

Art thou the watry Sourse from whence this Stream,

These daily gushings of my Mourning Eyes

Burst forth, and almost drown my fainting Heart?

Are those the Comets, whose dire Influence

Sheds Ruine on me; is there in that Voice

So sweet an Harmony, so full of Charms,

It can bewitch the Sense of Mandricard?

Ast.

Yes, Mandricard has learnt to stoop to me,

And at my Feet his daily Homage pay,

Which thus I scorn, and spurn ev'n into Wind.

Isp.

Unsufferable Creature, does she scorn him?

Oh more, far more than this, I cou'd endure

Her Love; contemn him? nay that is not all,

She Rivals me, and yet professes scorn;

Is't not enough you have ensnar'd his Love?

Caught with a Golden Bait his yielding Heart?

But you must on his Honour raise contempt,

And make him cheap—Oh Torture, Oh my Soul!

Ast.

Know then, Ispatia, if you are resolv'd

To sound my Heart, I frankly must confess

I hate him, hate my Brothers Murderer

[Page]To death, and pray the Gods he may so love,

So burn with Passion, till I pity him,

Which Furies first shall do unto the Damn'd.

Nay do not rage, but thank me that I hate him,

For had I lov'd, Ispatia, had I lov'd,

You might have found him lock'd within my Arms,

Not prostrate at my Feet, nor had you e're

Have been admitted to reprove me for it,

As now you do.

Isp.

'Tis like I shou'd not, Captive,

Nor am I now perhaps, by your good leave;

Yet I'le maintain the happiness I've sought,

Stay here and pierce through either Heart, as far

As Sharp ey'd Jealousie can look.

Ast.

Compleat

With this one Promise then my Happiness,

To hold him ever after from my sight.

But see, he comes—

[Enter Mandricard with a Priest.

Isp.

A Priest! what Omens now

Swell big that holy Harbinger of Fate?

Man.

This holy Man, Ispatia, as of old

He joyn'd our Hands before the smiling Gods,

So wou'd he now our Hearts; one Kiss upon

The Sacred Alcoran, and our Love is Seal'd.

Isp.

Blest Alteration!

Ast.

O thrice happy Hour!

Isp.

What sudden Ague seizes my chill'd Limbs?

How my Eyes dazle, and my Senses swim!

What have we done, my Lord?

Man.

O nothing, nothing,

'Tis but a Fit, a Qualm, a certain Scout,

Or flying Messenger from Deaths Tribunal,

To summon thee to Everlasting Rest.

Isp.

What means my Lord?

Man.

Oh 'tis a Sovereign Balm,

A Cure to all Distempers—to be plain,

The Book was poison'd, and thou hast drunk the Venom.

Isp.

O Traytor! yet e're I expire, hear me.

Man.

Speak quickly then.

Isp.

Not long ago, my Lord, you did receive

[Page]A Letter from that Princess.

Ast.

Me!

Isp.

With all

The Pow'r of Penitence I here implore

Your Pardon.

Man.

What means the Fury?

Isp.

In her Name

You took, embrac'd it, lock'd within your Bosom

The outward Manuscript, within your Heart

The sweet Contents.

Man.

Which do enrich my Soul!

Isp.

But now, ungrateful Man, be't spoke at last.

To fright thy Lawless Passion be it spoke;

I, not Asteria, wrote those Fatal Words

Which cause my Death.

Man.

Then wou'd to Mahomet

They may prove thy Damnation too.

Ast.

Oh Heav'n!

Isp.

Well, Traytor, thou hast had thy Fatal Wish,

As it is sure I die; but know base Poisoner,

Thy wily Treasons have not set thee free,

Nor will Ispatia leave thee even in Death,

I'le fright thee in thy Dreams, I'le haunt thee waking,

I'le scourge thy Conscience with Whips of Remorse.

The Sting of Serpents shall be nothing to it.

Yes, I will have Revenge, I will; I'le strike

Thee mad with terror, when thou dar'st approach

My Rivals Beauties; Clasp her, and I'le glide

All Cold between, and dash the fancy'd Joy.

O Alha, Mahomet, O Courteous Heav'n,

Give me but Power as here I yield my Soul

Up to your Mercy in Deaths cruel Pangs.

[Dies.

Man.

Remove the hated Body from my sight.

Ast.

And are there Pow'rs in Heav'n, and can they see

This Sacrilegious Mischief go unpunish'd?

Man.

What ever Deities in Heav'n there are,

They prove the Deed, and smile upon the Doer.

And thus by giving thee reward it; now Priest.

[Mandricard and the Priest take her up, and are carrying her off.

Ast.

Look down, O Mahomet, from Heav'n, behold

[Page]My hard distressed Fortune; save, oh save

A Virgins Chastity, unsoil'd, unstain'd,

And right with Miracles thy Pow'r contemn'd.

Enter Axalla and Zanches, their Swords drawn.

Ax.

This way, this way the mournful Ecchoe calls.

Oh the bold Traytors, Sacrilegious Villains.

[They fight, Mandricard and the Priest are beaten off.

They run, they fly; now injur'd Vertue, seek

[To Ast.

Thy safe Retreat, while I pursue the Villains.

[Exeunt.

Ast.

Who e're you be just Mahomet reward you.

[Exit.

SCENE a Wood.

Arsanes sitting melancholly on a Green Bank, while his Page sings this SONG.

BEhold ye Sylvans that frequent

This silent, sighing, mourning Grove;

Behold the Fountains, Birds lament,

Vnhappy Damons fatal Love.

Chloris to him her Heart denies,

For which the gentle Shepherd dies.

Ch. Chloris to him &c.

Bright Chloris fairest of her kind,

That charm'd with Smiles the yielding Swain,

False Chloris falser than the Wind,

That turns his Fairy Ioys to Pain.

Her Vows, her Oaths which tir'd Heav'n,

Were for so many Curses giv'n.

Ch. Her Vows, her Oaths &c.

Then fill with hollow Sighs the Day,

With Cypress strow the mourning Green;

Let nothing fresh, let nothing gay

O're all the fading Plain be seen;

[...]or see the Swain lies bleeding there,

Wounded by Love, dead with Despair.

Ch. For see the Swain &c.

[Page]Ars.

Thus in a Chaos of cold discontent

I pass the weary Minutes, breathing forth

My daily Passions from my wasted Spirits;

Unhappy, wretched Prince, how Destiny

Allots unjust misfortunes to thy Youth!

Which to others is a flowing Spring of good,

To thee's a frosty Winter of cold Sorrow.

Oh my Nerina! how thy doubtful Faith

Strikes deep my Heart; nor can I think thee false

To thy false Hand against thy Vertue plead.

So, thus—I may gaze here till I am blind,

[Looking on the Letter.

But never here shall satisfaction find.

[Throwing it away.

Enter in hast Axalla and Zanches.

Ax.

Live, live Arsanes.

In just Obedience to your great Commands

I went to the Apartment of Asteria;

Where first I heard what seiz'd my Soul with horror,

And num'd my Senses with a Marble Fear;

I heard, Arsanes, your Nerina shrieking,

With all the Struglings of a Ravish'd Maid.

When from her Chamber rush'd in furious hast

The Villain Mandricard, and the prophaner

Villain a Priest, who grasp'd the Sacred Store.

Rais'd by the Pow'r of so just an Anger,

Your Old Mans Blood glow'd with a Youthful Heat,

While with our Swords I and the Faithful Zanches

Pursu'd the Traytors, forc'd 'em quit their Treasure,

And made 'em thankful to their Stars for Life.

Ars.

O Golden Minute! Thanks O Gracious Heav'n!

And thou its kindest happiest Instrument.

Ax.

What Past before her fair Hand will unfold,

This Letter to your Hand she charg'd me bring.

Ars.

They'r welcome on what ever Errand sent,

Axalla, see the wond'rous mighty Proof

[Reading.

Of her wrong'd Innocence, she writes, not she,

But fond Ispatia, as dying she confess'd,

Was Author of those Lines which drove us hither

In so much Fury, and so much Despair.

[Page]Ax.

'Tis as Axalla's Heart cou'd wish it shou'd be.

Ars.

How cou'd I trust these Characters which are

Unlike, as Faith and Falshood, Love and Hate,

Hope and Despair; and shou'd I then have curst,

Curst her sweet Vertue for anothers Crime?

Such words wou'd sure have blasted me, such words

Had gave my Heart the lie, had swoln my Tongue

With its own Venome, nay had press'd and grip'd

My thoughtful Sense with wrecks of dire remorse,

And the black Scourge of self-tormenting Conscience.

Ax.

But see, my Lord, the tenderest words she writes!

See at the end of her Complaints her Pray'rs,

She begs Protection from your Royal Hands.

Ars.

Protect her! yes, against the Universe,

Brother, and Father; Fortunes Darts, and Fates

Decrees, the business of our Watchful Eyes

Shall be to mark her Enemies, our Strength

And well-collected Vertue be her Guard

Where e're she moves: Let us not wast in words

One moment of our Life, these happy Hours,

A swift Obedience calls our Hearts and Hands,

For from Nerina came the soft Commands.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

Arsanes, Asteria.

Ars.

WIth equal Joy, as when the first-born Man

Through a sweet Paradise led his Infant Bride,

With all the Pleasures of a welcome Love

Do I unsatiate with Asteria's Charms

Pass the glad day.

Ast.

Did not my Fathers Fate

Oppose the sweet delights of growing Love,

This day I cou'd with mighty Queens dispute

The Number of bless'd Minutes.

[Page]Ars.

Oh my Soul.

Ast.

My Heart, I can profus'dly wish!

Ars.

My all that I can ask, and Heav'n can give.

Enter Abdalla, with Guards.

Abd.

Or I'm mistaken, or

This is the Traytor, apprehend him.

Ars.

Whom?

Abd.

Arsanes, Sir, me thinks you much resemble

That great, out-witted States-man Prince.

Ars.

'Tis he; Slave, speak thy Errand.

Abd.

From Tamerlane.

Ars.

No more; 'tis Blasphemy

To ask, or to dispute the Cause, I go

Where e're he calls to shameful Bands, or Death.

Lead on—but oh, my Heart, forget her not

Asteria—

Ast.

My Lord—

Abd.

We must not wait

Fond Lovers tedious partings; Lead away.

Ars.

Farewel, Fair Star, for ever.

[Is led off.

Ast.

He's gone, he's gone;

Hurry'd away by Traytors to his Death,

And oh, ye Pow'rs, I had not power to speak

My last Farewel; Ile follow though, and pierce

Without regard of Life or Being, through

All that does, can oppose me; break through Fire,

Through Flames, o're Mountains pass, and swelling Seas,

Through Files of Tartars, Swords, Lances, Javelins.

Arm'd with resistless Love, and Rage, I'le fly

Like Lightning in a moment to his Cell,

With all the force of parting Love embrace him.

Bath with my Widow-Tears his panting Breast,

Bask in his Eyes, share that Eternal Rest

His Noble Soul shall claim among the Blest.

Exit.

[Page] Mandricard is discovered asleep, the Ghost of Ispatia by him with a Dagger in her Hand, threatning him.

Gh.

Rest, rest, my Soul, at last great Heav'ns Care,

Let never Innocence of Heav'n despair.

Thus sent, thus arm'd, an injur'd Shade I come

To scourge thee, Prince, for thy untimely Doom.

Thy Conscience thus just Alha does unseal,

And to thee all the horrors of thy Crimes reveal.

With Frenzy shalt thou rage, with Sorrow groan,

And in deep thought thy dazled Senses drown.

An inward Hell thee, Poisoner, shall burn▪

Nor shalt thou ever to thy self return.

Exit.

Mandricard rises frighted and raging.

Man.

I wou'd have torn her, and have sacrific'd

Her Members to Ispatia's wandring Ghost;

Nay haunt me not, dear Shade, I've sworn to do it,

With as much Art I'le work thy Rivals Fate,

As th' wiliest Devil of 'em all can wish.

What Sorcery this Turkish Beauty bears!

Ha! where so swiftly fled! have Harlots Wings?

Then to the Icarian Flood I'le steer my Course,

Drain it, and rob the unexperienc'd Boy

Of his ill-manag'd Quills, born on whose Force

I'le mount, and catch her in her hottest Chace.

Enter Odmar, Abdalla.

Odm.

My Lord, Lord Mandricard.

Man.

Did not you see a Monster up the Hill.

Sharp radiant Arrows arm'd her Magick Eyes,

Her Face, or no Face, or her double Face,

Shew'd crooked, Nature shrowded by false Art,

These well-known marks make ill for her escape.

Hey follow, seek, 'tis worth our pains, and more,

Millions to one but we shall seize the Witch.

See ho! see there o're yonder Plain she fleets!

[Page]O for an Arrow from Diana's Quiver!

Spread wide your Nets, mark where to Autumn Gray

The verdant Spring is chang'd, that, that's her Road,

Made hoary by her Sorcery and Charms.

She's near, she's near; my Nostrils draw the Scent

Of Paints, of Powders, Daubings, strong Perfumes,

A Whore will scent a Mile—so nimble—ha,

'Tis noble Sport, so hei, follow, so hei.

[Runs up and down, and out.

Odm.

Was ever such a Change in Nature wrought!

So sudden, yet so perfect!

Abd.

This your Plots,

Your Stratagems have done, had I been heard,

He had e're this have worn a Crown by Arms

Nobly atchiev'd.

Odm.

Thine were the means to sure

Destruction, this we may amend.

Abd.

Ha, ha!

Dost thou not see our hopes in frenzy drown'd?

Brave had you fell my way, as shameful this.

Odm.

We'l follow him—

Abd.

In vain.

Odm.

Our Counsels may—

Abd.

Make him a Fool, as they have made him mad.

Odm.

What shall I do?

Abd.

Die in the Act like Men.

Odm.

Or live, and work more Ruine.

Abd.

And be found

Traytors at last, most infamous and base.

A Noise of Fighting.

Odm.

What Noise is that?

Abd.

'Tis the dear Shout of Battle,

Abdalla, to thy lov'd Vocation.

[Exit

Odm.

Go,

I'le follow, and thy dangerous Fortunes share.

[Exit.

[Page]The Scene opening, discovers Tamerlane, Odmar, Abdalla, encountring Axalla, Zanches, and others.

Ax.

Arsanes, live; or perish all thy Friends.

Peo.

Revenge, Revenge our Prince Arsanes wrongs.

Ax.

They fly, they fly; see, O the wrong'd Arsanes,

Thy Succour nigh.

[Tam. and his Party give back▪

Abd.

We must not thus give up

To Slaves our Lawrels while Abdalla lives.

Ax.

Die then perfidious, base, eternal Villain!

[Kills Abdalla.

A Retreat is sounded on Tamerlanes side, the Scene closes.

Enter Tamerlane, Odmar.

Tam.

Dead or alive he will my Ruine prove.

Odm.

Dispatch him strait.

Tam.

You'r rash, and unadvis'd;

Prove thy self worthy of the Name thou bear'st

Our Counsellor, or die.

Odm.

Your Slaves Advice

Meets your Commands; let, Sir, Arsanes live;

Free him.

Tam.

Ha! say'st thou!

Odm.

These Reports will quell

Th' incensed Crowd; while I in Ambush laid

In some dark secret Corner of the Palace,

Rush on him swell'd with pride, and reeling with

The drunkenness of Love, end him, my Lord,

Big with large expectations of delight,

And from your Royal Scepter take the Guilt.

Tam.

Thou art my Soul, my Empires Prop, and Refuge,

Who hast reviv'd it sinking from its Ashes;

Next to our own, when thy Blest Hand performs

The happy Work of thy projecting Brain,

I'le Crown thy Head with Lawrel and with Gold,

Boasting of thee our Life and Throne to hold.

[Exit.

Odm.

Now Odmar, for thy share expect no less

Than Scepters for thy dear contriving Wit;

[Page]Ha, ha, ha, ha, to see the Shallow King

Expect Security and Bliss from me.

Vain Fools who think we work for any Ends

But for our own—How tamely the dull Crowd

Lay down their Arms, and leave their Prince defenceless;

Die, die, Arsanes, and live Mandricard,

And I thy happy Father; with what ease

Odmar a Crown has purchas'd to his Race!

Me thinks I see my numerous Royal Offspring

Steal softly by, all Crown'd; no more, let others

By Blood and Civil Wars an Empire gain.

Tis Fraud alone false Titles can maintain.

[Exit.

A Chamber.

Enter Arsanes.

Ars.

I wonder how the Grave and Wise define

Th' uncertain motions of ambiguous Chance,

While equally she flatters, and destroys.

'Tis true I'm free, live, have large promises

To Love and Reign, as my high Birth requires.

But oh, what safety's in that Freedom found

From the sweet quiet of the Mind exil'd!

That I in Chains!

[Enter Axalla.

Ax.

My Lord!

Ars.

What hast my Friend,

To view this Load of Shame?

Ax.

Ha, Prince.

Ars.

I said my Shame.

Am I not mark'd in every Limb a Villain?

Ax.

This Temper suits not with your Fate, my Lord,

Thick Crowds of Friends expect you at the Court,

Waiting to Crown your vast Desert with Honour.

Which Tamerlane by me commands you take.

Ars.

What sort of Honour is to Rebels due?

Ax.

Rebells?

Ars.

Am I not one? how came I here?

Ax.

Leave those jealous Thoughts:

Rank'd in long Rows the gazing People stand

[Page]An endless Multitude; while smiling Virgins

From Windows, mixt with Joyful Matrons, lean,

All hoping, and all wishing, praying too

For your Approach; Arsanes is the Sound,

The only Sound the Gods can hear from Earth.

Ars.

Triumphant Villain that I am!

Ax.

Ha! Villain!

Fool that I am to court a dreaming Zealot

To sublime Honours; stupid, thankless Prince;

Is this the Character our love deserves?

Traytors and Villains! Oh the hateful Name!

Go, Prince, and as thy unman'd Soul requires,

Neglecting Palaces, in Dungeons dye,

Slave-marking Iron press with vilest pain

Those Limbs, which Sword, Steel, Fire have sustain'd.

Farewell, Arsanes, neither Prince, nor Man.

Ars.

Hold, Noble Friend; pard'n, oh Axalla, pard'n

A few rash words; the Act in you was good,

Friendlike, and Just; and were it not forbid,

Forbid by Duty, it were so in me;

But oh!

Ax.

Still dreaming?

Ars.

Oh my Innocence

Thou sacred fort, fair Guardian of my Breast,

Where art thou fled? me thinks I'm left alone,

Disarm'd, defenceless, since I saw thee last.

Ax.

Still in the tedious maze of fearful doubts!

Ars.

Where e're I turn I see my Ruine nigh.

Ax.

Mark then your surest way to Life or Death,

Bright Honour, or base Shame; the King, Arsanes,

Brooks heavily the scorn of his Commands,

Your Friends their ill accepted Love repent,

And sad Nerina all in Tears protests

She never thought Arsanes cou'd deny

Her any thing.

Ars.

Hold, thou hast said enough;

Words of such wond'rous sense, so moving, full

With Arguments of such prevailing Pow'r,

Wou'd raise the dull Lethargick from his Dream;

That Threefold Chain of Duty, Friendship, Love,

[Page]Wou'd bind the Roving Sylvan Honours Slave;

Faith draws the Wills of Men to my defence,

Duty and Love Auxiliary Gods.

[Exeunt.

Odmar solus.

Odm.

Traytor! 'tis a Name of vast import!

Not arm'd with furbish'd Brass, nor lock'd in Steel,

He bears the noiseless Weapons of Deceit.

Lies politick, and subtle Flatteries

Raise him to trust; what cannot Villains trusted?

We change, destroy, make Princes, and unmake.

Unenvy'd be henceforth Cassander fam'd,

Dire Sylla, Close Sejanus, Cruel Marius,

Seditious Gracchi, God-like Catiline,

With all the Glorious Traytors of each Age;

Not the false Smerdis with his Magick Train

Could sound the dark Abyss of Odmars Plots.

Peop.

Long live Great Tamerlane, and Prince Arsanes.

[Shout within.

Odm.

Hark, now me thinks I see this Lover come

Hot with desire; see how the too rash Fool

With what large hasty steps he meets half way

My Daggers Point; now, Heart, for thy Revenge!

Heav'n guide my Hand where I resolve to strike!

Here will I make my Vigilant Retreat,

All Passages but through this Gate are bar'd

To the dear Lodgings of his lov'd Asteria;

While the dark Night shall shrow'd me and my Guilt.

[Retreats.

Enter Mandricard.

Man.

No not so much as one poor Cypress Torch

To light her to her Grave—ah the much-wrong'd Ispatia!

[Odmar rushes on him and stabs him with a Poniard.

Odm.

As sure a Thrust as ever Malice made.

Lye there thou empty Blaze of Fame; while I

Run with false Tears, devulger of thy Fate.

Oh how the Crowd will fret! the Prince Arsanes,

The Noble Prince lies murder'd in the way.

Help, help, the Prince is murder'd. oh, oh, oh, oh.

[Exit.

[Page]Man.

Darkness and Horror! whither am I going?

What greedy Horse-leech sucks my Vital Blood,

And draws me to a Being like Ispatia's?

Laugh, laugh, ye Furies, and ye Devils grin,

Scourge me with Scorpions, punish me with Flames,

Eternal Flames; tear, consume, devour me,

Let Hell surround me with her greatest Torments,

Severest Plagues prepar'd for blackest Souls;

But turn the wrong'd Ispatia from my sight,

Ispatia's Presence is a Thousand Hells.

[Dies.

Re enter Odmar with a dark Lanthorn.

Odm.

But to be sure thou'rt dead, it much concerns.

By Heav'n 'tis Mandricard, Death, Furies, Hell,

And thou, curst Hand, false Author of my woe,

Thou Traytor to my Will, and Rebel to my Aim;

Oh the black Curse of Chance—

And plague of Accidents! so gross an Error

Was wrought sure by the envy of the Stars.

My Mandricard, my Son, oh, oh, my Son.

Enter Tamerlane.

Tam.

Keep back the Rabble, and your selves retreat,

While I survey and mourn my hapless Son.

Well, Friend, thou'st done the business.

Odm.

Very well,

To make the Strumpet Fortune frisk and laugh.

Tam.

What mean you Friend?

Odm.

I mean there is in Heav'n

A Jubilee among Arsanes Stars.

Tam.

That he's come there—

Odm.

That he is not come there.

Tam.

Thy Mystick Speech I cannot comprehend,

Nor sound thy Sense, no nor thy Ghastly Looks.

Odm.

This will explain 'em all—

[Points to Mandric.

Tam.

By all the Gods

'Tis Mandricard, Curst Villain—Oh my Son.

Odm.

Ha, ha, ha.

[Page]Tam.

What wou'd thy Mirth?

Odm.

Seeing once a Corse

On a Black Beer to gloomy Pluto born.

[...]laught to see the Sympathetick Crowd

Howl, yell, lament, as they were Parents all.

What was the Corse to them, or they to it?

Tam.

Yet Ridling, Slave? what hoa my Guards—who waits?

Seize there the Murderer.

[Enter Guards.

Odm.

I scorn to perish by a Fate so base.

Thus do the Noble dye—

[Stabs himself.

What mean those Tears?

[To Tam.

Know, King, thou shou'dst have shed those very Tears

Some twenty years ago, when Mandricard

Your Son, my Charge, a tender Infant dy'd;

Then the wish'd Glory of my days began;

He dey'd; I to his room my Son advanc'd,

My own Themyre, suppos'd your Mandricard.

My swell'd Ambition yet did higher aim,

A King, at least the Father of a King

I was resolv'd to raise my self. Think, Sir,

By me how oft Arsanes has been made

By me a Traytor, never of himself.

This was the last unlucky Cheat I acted,

Which the curst Fates had otherwise decreed,

And turn'd on me the Ruines of my Wish.

Scarce can I more; my Death comes swiftly on;

While from my Actions I this Glory draw,

None cou'd but Odmar, Odmars Plots destroy.

[Dies.

Tam.

Remove the wretched Bodies from my sight,

The hated Traytor, and the curst Impostor!

First let 'em hang a publick Spectacle

In our high Road which to the Palace leads,

Then when all Eyes are glutted with the sight,

Cast 'em to Birds and Beasts a welcome Prey.

Enter an Officer.

Off.

Prepare, Great Tamerlane, for your defence,

Uproars and Tumults every where are ris'n.

Fame of Arsanes Death has arm'd the Crowd,

[Page]With Fury, Rage, Suspicions, Frenzies, Fears,

Your self the sole Promoter of his Fate

Are sworn, arraign'd, on you they vow Revenge.

Tam.

Hast quickly, and with Trumpets Sound pronounce

The Rumour false; their lov'd Arsanes lives;

By blest mistake 'tis Mandricard is fal'n.

[Exit off.

Call to my Arms the Noble Prince Arsanes,

And his fair Mistress; at last my Eyes are open,

Unseal'd to Truth, I see and am confirm'd

No close Conspiracy, or black Design,

But Love, and only Love, their Hearts did joyn.

Enter Arsanes and Asteria.

Tam.

Thanks, O Propitious Heav'n, thanks my Stars,

And all ye Angels Guards of Innocence,

Which have restor'd, and brought into his Right

The wrong'd Arsanes, welcome O my Son,

Thy Enemies are dead, the Impostors dead,

And with them all Suspitions of thy Faith,

Thy Injuries are dead—Oh my Arsanes,

A Father in the Face of Heav'n salutes thee

A happy Bridegroom, from a Fathers Hand,

Receive thy Fairer Vertues, Fair Reward.

Ars.

O Extasie! Oh Paradise of Joy!

I come scarce hoping for a Pard'n, and find

A full Reward, Inestimable Treasure,

Eternal Bliss; nor is it Fairy Treasure!

No, no, I have it here, I hold it, grasp it,

A Real Pleasure, and Substantial Good.

But oh let not the fulness of my Joy

Make me unmindful of the Noble Giver.

Oh, my Asteria—

Ast.

My Lord!

Ars.

Thus let us kneel,

With Thanks unto our Father.

Ast.

Our Preserver!

Ars.

Our new Creator, thus let us lie prostrate,

And wonder at our sudden Happines.

Tam.

Rise and believe it granted; now witness Heav'n,

[Page]And ye kind Stars, that smile upon our Throne,

With what untroubled Joy I joyn the Hands

Of the blest Loyal Pair.

The Sacred Tye just Alha shall confirm,

And as we Sign, Seal your Eternal Loves.

Ars.

Thanks O our Royal Father, God-like Prince,

And double Author of my happy Being.

So may Great Alha all your Actions Crown,

And with Eternal Blessings Guard your Throne.

As I your worthy Praises loudly sing,

The Kindest Father, and the Justest King.

[Exeunt.

EPILOGUE, By Mr. DRYDEN.

[Page]

LAdies, the Beardless Author of this Day,

Commends to you the Fortune of his Play.

A Woman Wit has often grac'd the Stage,

But he's the first Boy-Poet of our Age.

Early as is the Year his Fancies blow,

Like young Narcissus peeping through the Snow;

Thus Cowley Blossom'd soon, yet Flourish'd long,

This is as forward, and may prove as strong.

Youth with the Fair shou'd always Favour find,

Or we are damn'd Dissemblers of our kind.

What's all this Love they put into our Parts?

'Tis but the pit-a-pat of Two Young Hearts.

Shou'd Hag and Gray-Beard make such tender moan,

Faith you'd e'en trust 'em▪ to themselves alone,

And cry let's go, here's nothing to be done.

Since Love's our Business, as 'tis your Delight,

The Young, who best can practise, best can Write.

What though he be not come to his full Pow'r,

He's mending and improving every hour.

You sly She-Iockies of the Box and Pit,

Are pleas'd to find a hot unbroken Wit,

By management he may in time be made,

But there's no hopes of an old batter'd Iade;

Faint and unnerv'd he runs into a Sweat,

And always fails you at the Second Heat.

FINIS.

Information about this book

Title statement

Tamerlane the Great a tragedy : as it is acted by Their Majesties servants at the Theatre Royal / by C. Saunders, Gent.

Saunders, C. (Charles), fl. 1681.

Edition statement

1681

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A62223

ID [STC]

Wing S741

ID [STC]

ESTC R17093

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

13036125

ID [OCLC]

ocm 13036125

ID [VID]

96818

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A62223)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 96818)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 399:18)

Source

— Tamerlane the Great a tragedy : as it is acted by Their Majesties servants at the Theatre Royal / by C. Saunders, Gent., Saunders, C. (Charles), fl. 1681., Dryden, John, 1631-1700., Banks, John, d. 1706..

Extent

[10], 60, [1] p.

Printed for Richard Bentley and M. Magnes ...,. London :: 1681.. ("... I drew the design of this play, from a late novell, call'd Tamerlane and Asteria ..."--Pref.) (With commendatory verse by John Banks and epilogue by Dryden which describes the author as a boy.) (Reproduction of original in British Library.)

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