SOLYMAN

Is Selym S deceased? Who Solymus? what Fate durst be so bold: O, I could act and holy frenzy now Selymus deceased? What did not Atlas tremble At such a burden? Can he support the Orb That holds up Selymus? is not yet the Pole Cracked with his weight? do not the heavens preparr His funeral Exequies? Jove I inuol e thee now, Command the heavens that the prove Chandler shops Command that idle Phaebus, that he exhale Matter from earth to make thy unerall Tapers: Or I'll make Torches of the universe In stead of Comets; flaming Countries, Cities Shall be thy cer moniall Tapers: Or if not this; I'll ransack Christendom, Kings Daughters I'll embowel for a Sacrifice, Their fat with vestal fire will I refine, And offer virg S beware unto thy shrine. Start back bright Phaebus, let thy firy Steeds Keep Holiday for Selymus. tell thy host Proud Neptune now expects another's deluge, That all the earth may weep for Selymus. What do you smile you Heavens? are you conscious, And guilty of this execrable treason? What dare the fields to laugh when I do mourn? I'll die your motly coloured weeds in scarlet, And cloth the world in black destruction. Nemesis, I'll nail thee to my greedy sword, Destruction shall serve under me a Prenticeship. Courage brave Sell xie, with thy Princely boat Through Styx even all mortality shall float; I'll leavy Soldiers through the Universe, With which thou shalt begirt Elizeum; Thus barren Nature shall repent thy fallen, Grieving that she did not the event forestall; Death I will hate thee: the world shall wear Thy sable livery embroidered with fear: Thy Trophies every where the world shall gaze on: Thy Arms in sable and in gules I blazon. Thus our deer Father, those bright robes of state, For which so lately thou hast sweat in blood, Thou wearest upon my shoulders in thy stead: Thus are we crowned, and thus our labours be, Made gainful unto thine, though not to thee. We thank you friendly Actors of our bliss, Our patience hath at length tired out the gods; Our Empire hath been racked enough with treasons, And black seditions, as if no Christians Were left to conquer, we yield our Turkish blades Against our selves, imbowelling the State With bloody discord, by our strength we fallen A scorn to Christians, with our hands we shed That blood which might have conqu read Christendom; Thus while we hate our selves we love our enemies, And heal them with our sores, whilst we lie weltering n bloody peace: the die of the public safety Hath been already cast by hand of war, Treasons have made a blot, which may provoke The enemy to enter, and bear our men To dark Avernus's, Envy might have blushed, Though always pale at all our projects: now This bloody deluge is quite passed, return Sweet Peace with olive branch, enough of wars, It's thou must pour oil into our scars. Fly hence Hereditary hate, discords dead, Let not succeeding omnities and hatred live. Let none presume to cover p iuate sores With public ruins, nor let black discord Make and Anatomy of our too lean Empire, let it w sat again; when peace Hath knit her knots, then shall the wanton sounds Of Bells' give place to thundering Bo bards, And blood wash out the smoothing oil of Peace, Every Soldier I'll ordain a Priest To ring a fatal knell to Christians, And every minute unto earth's wide womb, Shall sacrifice a Chrisitians Hecatomb: Then shall we make a league with Aeolus, The winds shall strive to further our proceedings, Then will we load the Seas, and fetter Neptune With chains that hold our Anchors; he shall quake Lest he to Pa resign his watery Empire, And three forked-mace unto my awful Sceptre; The Whale's and Dolphins shall amazed stand, That they shall yield their place to Bears and Lion , Sulla shall howl for fear when she shall see The Sea become a Forest, and her self Mountainy, then let Sire's quake For fear of Satires, then let the Christians think, Not that our Navy, but the Country it self Is come to move them from the growing earth; Comets, fiery swords shall be my Heralds, Threatening to World sudden combustion: Let our arms be steely bows, our arrows Thunderbolts, and in stead of warlike Drum , Thunder shall proclaim black destruction; Vulcan I'll tax thee, exercise thy Forge, Prepare to me for all the world a scourge, The Fates to me their powers shall resig e, Which with this hand will rend the strongest twine Of humane breath, first for the I'll of Rhodes Destruction there shall keep his more rnf ll Stage: Inhabitants shall act a bloody Tragedy, And personate themselves; Then for Nayos I'll Death there shall keep her Court, then I will make Vienna all a Shambles; yea gaping Famine Ever devouring, always wanting food, Shall gnaw their bowels, and shall lean them nothing Beside themselves to feed on; their dead corpses Shall be entombed in their neighbours bellies. There every one shall be a li king Sepulcher, And unhallowed Churchyard; famine shall feed it self, Then shall they envy beasts, and wish to be Our Jades, our Mules, Matrons shall strive to bring Into the hateful light abortive Brats; The Infants shall return, and the lean womb Shall be unto the Babes a sudden tomb. Then shall they hoard carcases, and strive Only to be rich in Funerals; I'de rejoice To see them stand Like Screech-owls, gaping when Their Parents should expire, and bequeathe To hell their wretched souls, to them their death. All this, and more then this I'll do, when peace Hath glutted our new greedy appetites, When it hath filled the veins of the Empire full With vigour, then lest too much blood should cause Armies of vices, not of men to kill us, And strength breed weakness in our too great Empire, Then, then, and only then we shall think good, With war to let the body politic blood, Mean time we'll think on our Father's Funeral: O, I could be and holy Epicure, In tears, and pleasing sighs, O I could now Refresh my self with sorrow, I could emblame Thy corpses with holy groans from putrefaction: O, I could powder up thy thirsty corpses With brinish tears, and wipe them off with kisses, And that I might more freely speak my grief, These eyes should be still silent Orators, Till blindness shut them up were I a woman: But I am Solyman, Emperor, the Turk, Blood shall be my tears, I'll think thee slain Amongst the Christians, and translate my grief To fury, every member of my body Shall execute the office of a weeping son. Thus in my tears and Argus will I be, My head, heart, hands, and all shall weep or thee. O that the cruel Fates were half so mild As to driven streams of tears from forth the springs, Great sorrows have no leisure to complain, Least ills vent forth, great griefs within remain: See Selymus, sometime a fore-string instrument Feeding his Soldiers w that sweet Harmony, Does now tune nought to us but Lacrymy, Could not Aesculapius be found to tune His disagreeing elements treasons cracked The string which else and headache would untune. Every disease is a ragged fort To wear these strings asunder, treason did lend Death, which both age, and sickness did intend; What then remains, but that his Funeral rites With our Grandfather, Uncle's be solemnized, That so black discord may be with them buried: But noble Selymus what Tomb shall I prepare For thy memorial? shall a heavy stone Press thy innocent ashes? Shall I confine Thy wandering ghost in some high marble prison? Or shall I hither fetch the flying I mbe Of proud Mausolus the rich Carrion King? No; Religion shall cloak no such injury, No hired Rhetoric shall adorn thy coarse, No prattling stone shall trumpet forth thy praise, The world's thy tomb, thy Epitaph I'll Can we In Funerals, destruction is the book In which we'll write thy annals, blood's the Ink, Our sword the Pen; A Tragedy I intend, Which with a Plangity, no Plaudity shall end.