CONSOLARIO

Sir, I am your tutor, And I must chide you though you are my Prince, When I perceive you err as now you do Through weakness of your you e e I should show No love nor duty, these gray hairs of mine, Which time hath turned into a silver hue, Know something of the world, and my experience, How ere you slight it, hath seen many changes And alterations wrought in mighty states. I have waded through the various passages Of a long life, and therefore can instruct Your youth in the right way, if you but lend And ear unto my counsels: hark my son, I'll tell you plainly, you degenerate In this intemperance of your grief, From the brave stock of your progenitors, Your royal predecessors; fie for shame, Wrong not your virtue to be desperate, Oh bury not in the forgetful grave, Nor drown in this Laethean flood your glories, Your former glories purchased on your foes By your so oft relieving of your country Rouse up your drowsy spirits, and mitigate Your swelling passion, till I find a way, A way to cure your sorrows. Sir, this Country Is termed the deserts of Arabia Where we now travel in. Nay good my Lord, no more of this discourse, You promised once a manly resolution To tug with fortune, will you fallen again Into relapse of grief, and sad remembrance? How poor this shows in you! That Sir is Petraea, So called of Petram, the chief City in't, Or else because it's rocky. No, that is Faelix, And rightly bears it that denomination; For it's a happy Country, no delight But flows abundant there, embroidered ields, Fair meadows, pleasant groves, clear crystal brooks, Sweet lovely Cities, garden diapered All over with Flora's richest tapestry, Are seen there all the year, continual spring Dwells in that coast, white hoary bearded Hyems, Never shakes his snowy tref es, nor his frost Nips the fair flowers that beautify her breast, Nor boisterous Bor as with his winter blasts, Shakes her fair fruit, but delicate Favonius Creeps gently over her fields with flowery breath Creating gums and spices; sure it is The garden of the world; the Phoenix else Had never chosen that place above all other To recreate her self in: your Damascus Is but a desert if compared unto it. Madame, there needs no ceremony in Your Ladyships commands to us your vassals. My faith and care shall not be wanting in The trust you shall commit unto my Charge; How I may do you service is my study. Where is my Prince? Where is he? torment to my wounded heart? Weltering in his own blood. Dear Sir, how do you? speak to Consolario, Speak to your tutor, open these lovely eyes, And look with pity on the aged face Of him that die for sorrow of your wounds. Dear son, speak comfort to thy father's heart, (For so you bid me style you to my death) I faint, yet let one word come from you month, To tell me that you he e my g vous moan. And I shall die in peace. But I'll die first, so, so my heart strings break. Sir, it's in vain, They are too strong entrenched for your weak power To make and entrance, had you not experience Too sad, last time by l sse of your own blood, And slaughter of your men, what folly 'twas For to attempt impossibilities? You may fallen on, and lose your self and soldiers Unnecessarily, and to no purpose: But this yond cannot term true ortitude, But rather rashness e and temerity; For it's a policy in war, sometime For to preserve your soldiers, as it is At other times to put them upon service: But it's not proper now, stay and attend The sequel of this business. Colonel, Can you inform the Prince what did occasion The shooting that we herd now nee the town: V as it a sally or a triumph made By the Tartarians for their good success. In conquering this Kingdom? No my Lord, That's called Arabia aelix, this deserta, So infamous through thefts and bberies Committed on all travellers by the thieves And outlaws of the Country, who frequent These Caves and Mountains, this and th'other partly Make but one kingdom, 'twas not my advice You came this way, you know I told you of The danger by the robbers. Bles worser deliverance! we have cause to thank The heavenly powers for this our victory, And preservation. Sweet Prince I fear More storms for in this clouded Wilderness They are most frequent, and I doubt the worst Is not blown over, let's therefore hast our journey To shelter us in safety. S Ir, do not grieve, it is the chance of war, Cheer up, & triumph in despite of fortune, What falls without the compass of redress To sorrow for, argues a feeble spirit, And it does nothing suit your Princely mind Too much to yield to passion. How noble Prince, Your passion hath unrectified your mind, And led you into error, did you never Read and believe what Scipio Affricanus Said unto some commanders of his army? That he did show a greater magnanimity In mastering the affections of his mind, Then in o'rethrowing armies, conquering kingdoms. Apply this noble Roman, to your self, Sweet Prince Amandus, what although your state Be desperate now, your Country almost ruined, Your army fled, and your chief City strait Besieged by these Barbarians, if you can Bear with a constant patience what the will Of heaven does lay on you, no doubt you shall Purchase a greater glory to your self By manly suffering what yond cannot help, Than Geolon the Tartar, though the fates Surrender fair Damascus to his hands.