ORMANDINE

This is the state of Princely Ormandine; Though once dejected, and low trodden down Under the feet of Fortune's petty Kings, Above her envy readvanced again; and you my friends And partners in her frowns, shall now deride her petty Deity, Laugh at those Kings, which Like to guilded moats! Dance in the Sunbeam of her various smile: And when we have laughed our fills, my fury then Shall rise, and Like a Torrent in the Ocean raised By swelling spring-tides driven from their bounds, So shall the rage of Oxmandines swift vengeance At once overflow the cruel Tartar and Arabian Kings. Rest you contended with content, our will admits No counsel but our own; here lives no pity of our Enemy We have bought vengeance at a mightier rate, Than you, or can, or must be privy to. Learning by time and industry are bought, But he that barters for revengeful Arts, Must with his best pri'zd jewel from depart: I have yet showed tricks to make they laugh, But long it shall not be ere I smite home To make us pastimes by their general ruins: And now my friends and Subject's shall behold The indented time and riddle of our safety: Ho Tarpax, The chiefest which attends upon our acts. Set forth my brazen pillar. Now wonder at the Tablet I shall read, Which while it comes to pass, live in more pleasures And voluptuous state, than does the Roman Potentates. ORmand be bold, seeare, and free, Revel thou in Arts potency, Till from the cold and Northern Climb, A Knight post on the wings of time, Being lighted on Tartaries ground, Of Fame spoke loud by honour crowned: From Brutus descended, and his breast Is with a sanguine Cross be blessed: Then shall this Sword, thy Art here closed, By him be drawn, thy Art opposed; Thy life, thy Arts, thy potent power Expire, dissolve that instant hour. This bugbear frights us not, and yet my fallen must come From Brutus descended, and on his breast The Emblem of our hate, a sanguine Cross: Must Ormandines great power be shaken down By a chill Northern Ague-shaken Knight, A lump of snow, a frosty I Fickle? this saying damps me, And the thin pure blood, which but even now Flowed through the azure branches of my veins, Is run to cherish my fear-trembling heart, Who, there affrighted at its horrid ruin, Mixed with cold comfort, is congealed to clods, And I a blood less substance do remain. Walk in I pray, I'm very much disturbed: Aswarthy passion harrows up my sense: Ho Tarpax. Fetch me my Characters, my calculation, & my glass. My ever-ready servant, fly to the first Aerial degree, Snatch thee a cloud, and wrap thy self intoo't; Fly to Tartariam, look within his Court, confines, & Country, If any Christian Knight there be arrived, I fear me Tarpax; bring me answer swift, While I survy my Book and magic glass. Would? what's here? The Tartars son slain by a British Knight, Who, as a penance for this heinous fact, Sent here to fetch my head, by Oath enjoined too't: A British Knight, the same my Tablet speaks of: Now Ormandine must fallen. Ho Tarpax! What sees my Tarpax? I read the same here too; be swift my Tarpax, Summon up Hells host to be my Guardians against this Northern Knight: put out the golden Candle Of the day with horrid darkness from the night below: Unchain the winds, send out our fiery reins, Break Atlas back with Thunder through the clouds, And dart your quick-past lightning at his face: Raise Earthquakes shaking round about his steps, To bandy him from one place to another; Let horror empty all her storehouse: If Ormandine can vanquish but this Knight, Secure and firm still stand our power and might. He's now within a Mile and less of us; Spirits away, each fallen unto his task, While I raise storms which may dismay the Knight. My fears divine this is the man, By whom great Ormand falls: he's come unto the gates, And now stick fast my sword, and we are yet secure: So, in spite of all the tampering of your Arts We are God something near you now. This is the gate; what have we here? a Brazen Pillar, In it a golden sword, immured and rivited; A golden Tablet with inscriptions on't, Let me discourse with you a little first. Ormand be bold, secure, and free, Revel in arts strong potency, Till from the cold and Northern Climb, A Knight post on the wings of time. Would, what's here? Till from the Northern Climb, A Knight post on the wings of time. A Northern Knight! why that's my self: Let's see a little farther. Being lighted on Tarta y's ground, Of fame bel v'd by honour crowned. I am arrived here in Tartary, a Northern Knight, And for my same and deeds of Chivaldry, with honour Hath been crowned in Princes Courts: a little farther yet. From Brutus descended, and his breast Is with a sanguine Cross be blessed. I have enough; David of Wales from Brutus descended is, A Christian Knight, that we res the sanguine Cross, That must dissolve this black Enchantment here: Come let me clutch thy temper in my hand, Thus draw thee forth, and thus: will you not come? Oh you are not the man, would, would, Fear Vanish once again; go Spirits, seize that Knight, And bring him straight. Ormand and all laugh: Spirits with fiery Clubs, they fight. Knight, Knight forbear, In vain thy strokes are dealt against our power: Thou mayest as well number those briny drops, As cope with these, or escape with life, did not we pity thee; Spirits away. The same; thy friend and Ormandine. The body will not yet so partly with it; This is the Tartars cruelty not thine; I know thy oath stands gaged to bring this head, Or not return; thus shalt thou save thy oath, Here shalt thou live, with Ormandine thy friend, Here spend thy days, crowned with delight and mirth, Pleasure shall be thy vassal to command, With new inventions, fresh varieties, And when thy dalliance would consort with love, Queens shall enfold thee in their Ivory arms, Which to affirm, and give thee love and liking, This waving of my wand above thy head, Dissolves this horror, and does give thee cause To change thy mind. Be Master of your wish: come fit here by me, I'll rape your care, and captivate your eye. How happy now is Ormandine in this; I will no more Credit the Tablet I shall for ever rain, as now I do: Eternity shall seal my habitation here, The Britain Knight is now within my power, Charm hangs a drowsy rest upon his eyes, And he shall sleep his youth to a full age. As for the Arabian bird, and the proud Tartar, Revenge armed with destruction to them slies; Who seeks my life, without my pity die. Vanquished by thee: that sanguine Cross my Tablet foretold, Bloodsheds mine eyes for to behold it worn And thou that Christian Knight confounds my state: Yet as thou honourst what I fear to see, As thou art hopeful of what's passed in me, And as thou art a Knight sworn to honour, Grant me one small request. Then spare the lives of these two harmless men. Which I secured by safety of my charms. Christian no. it's yours; say on. Know then that Island seated in the Main, Whose crosticke sides points to Barbaries kingdom, Was I once Duke of, the nearest parts to it is this Of Tartary, the other is Arabia, whose Kings disturbed My peace and government: Briefly, by flight we saved our Lives; and to revenge those wrongs I practiced on this Art, And since have lived scourges to both those Kings: My Tablet and Pillar then erected, through whose hardness Stuck that tempered blade; the riddles date on't did so strange appear, That I thought ever, ever to live here. And now you shall behold another Christian Knight, Sent from the Tartar King, by oath enjoined to fetch my Head, this did I deem the man, hath brought what you have, My confusion, but missing of my fears, I entertained him fair, Yet dreading still least he might prove the man, My Art hung on his eyes these charms of sleep, Which till I expiate, can never wake: His name is David, and a Britain Knight. Hold, do not with crimson purple your white blade With such a hancell: give me but leave to mount Yond storied steps, and you shall see brave Archers hit me sure: Think not that I must live, would you life give, Be good unto my friends: I fallen, take up your friend & hence. O are you aiming, it time I came, you had Fetched me else: so, so, we are met. He that sells bliss, and would in this Art shine, At last shall pay for't, as did Ormandine.