ARSAMNES

ARe these the fairest, and the handsomest among all the Captives? Go call him forth; there's none of all these has A Forehead for a Crown; their blood runs thick, As if't would blot a sword. See, there comes one Armed with a serious and Majestic look, As if hee'd read Philosophy to a King: We've conquered something now. What readest thou there? Thou dost speak As if thou Wertenberg victorious, not Arsamnes. Whom dost thou call deserving? True, Tell me, Wertenberg thou then to pay thy vows What wouldst thou sacrifice? the best, or worst? Bravely said. But (t's pity) thou hast reasoned all this while Against thy self, for our Religion does Require the Immolation of one Captive; And thou hast proved that he is best bellowed That best deserveth to be spared. And so't shall come, thy shape and virtues do Enrich and furnish thee for Heaven. I would Or thou hadst fled, or I not conquered. Adorn him with Robes. But thou must swear First to be faithful to the State. Now then, Cratander, I do here indulge thee All the Prerogatives of Majesty For three full days; which being expired, that then Thou mayest fallen honourably, I intend To strike the blow my self. HOw does our new King bear his Royalty? I hope Atossa is not in the Roll; he dares not Be favoured by my Queen. Does she then Seem to compassionate his fortune? we Must watch his Actions narrowly. He must live And Reign his time prescribed; but he must not Perform the Actions he intends. Let then All the delights and pleasures, that a Slave Admires in Kings be offered. Though and hundred Still watchful eyes beset his head, yet there Is one way left; Music may subtly creep And rock his senses so, that all may sleep. WAs't not enough that you perused his Actions, And surfeited your Eyes upon his follies, Seeing, and seen again, but you must cast him A Chain, and Emblematicke Chain? I stand not much Upon the commerce of your Eyes, but it's Your Chain.—Your Favour—that—. Do'y 'thinke it's fit A Queen should send one link unto a Slave? But when you divert And break the Stream into small Rivulets, You make it run more weak, then when it kept United in one Channel. But what should make you Present him with a gift? you might have smothered A good opinion of him in your Breast, (As some digressing streams flow under ground) And so have rested; but you show it now, And make the world partaker. Thou art still virtuous my Atossa, still as thy Crystal, but more spotless. Fools that we are, to think the Eye of Love Must always look on us. The Vine that climbs By conjugal Embracements about the Elm, May with a ring or two perhaps encircle Some neighbouring bough, and yet this twining prove. Not the Offence, but Charity of Love. The Luxury and Riot of arm worser Love! Oh that mine eyes could dart forth piercing Lightning That I could shoot some quick invisible Plague Into his boiling marrow. He is seated So, that a Dart or Arrow cannot reach him, Without the danger of a Persian breast, Worth all his Nation. But why name I worth, Where I see so much Infamy? Oh Atossa! Is this your amity to Virtue? this The Pity that you lend afflicted goodness? There's work enough now for my sword, although The Enemy approach not. Credulous woman, Descend, Arsamnes calls thee; if he be A Name regarded when Cratander's by. If then Your Loyalty be still entire to me, Show it, and yield Cratander up to us. WHat? fly upon the sighed of us? to'appeare Was here to overcome, a look hath done The business of the sword; your fears may sleep Securely now; Open the Castle gates. Must we be Articled with by our women? What is't an't please the Gods, that you require? Alas! you know not what you ask; the Gods Permit not that he live; he falls to them. See, he will not live Atossa; To do the unwilling man a courtesy Is but a specious Tyranny. I may not Afflict him with a Curtsy; it can't be A Gift, that he must be compelled to take. He durst not be so bold, unless h'were Innocent. Cratander, live; we do command thee, Live. It is a time of Mercy; you have only Called forth those Favours which were freely coming These generous thoughts have added to our Conquest. It is no Victory, that's God upon The sluggish, and the abject. Descend then; And when wee've joined our hands, as Pledges of Our hearts combining so, let us return To celebration of and equal Triumph, In and united marriage of our joys. Let's heare't: what is't? Go, bring they in, let Prisons this day know The joys of Palaces. We will receive Ex. Mol. All the delights the world can yield us. Hark. They do Honour our joys in condescending to Be Actors in their Celebration. I see that Sardis hath it's Amazons: And Army of these would subdue the world. The voice of Ravens in the dead of night Conveys not harsher notes into mine ears. I've pardoned him. Will not the Gods receive and Hecatomb Of Oxen in exchange? may we not find The Destiny's in Beasts enthralls? we will choke The fire with weighty lumps of richer gums, And send perfumed clouds up into their seats In one continued thankfulness, if that They'le spare this humane Sacrifice. Cratander, The Gods recall my courtesy; I stand Doubly engaged, to Heaven, and to thee; But thou canst easier pardon; for I know Thy Virtue's such, that thou hadst rather suffer Thy self, than Heaven should be violated. Being then this sword must cut thy precious thread, If Statues may preserve thee, and thou thinkest it A life to flourish in fair memory, I'll people all my Kingdom with thy Images, To which they shall pay vows, as to those Gods Who now require thy company. Art thou willing too? Cursed be my Victory! and thou my Sword Be never henceforth happy, if there be Another Sacrifice to fallen Like this. Witness ye Gods, how I unwilling pay My vows in kind. Most virtuous Cratander, (Worthy of Heaven, but yet to tarry longer, And make Earth happy by thy presence,) look; These tears I pay thee as a sad farewell. I feel the blow my self that I must give thee. I feel a numbness seize me; I am stone; I shall not lift mine arm against thee. Sure The Gods desire it not. Happy news, Death sends thee back unto us; this comes not From any humane power; it's not my hand That spares thee, blessed Cratander, it's some God, Some God reserves thee unto greater works For us, and for thy Country. Thy faith hath been So firm and tried, thy moderation So stayed, that in a just reward I must My self conduct thee into Greece, and there Continue thee a King; that what was meant For sport and mirth, may prove a serious honour; And thy Three Days pass over into a long And happy government; to be ruled by thee Will be as freedom to them; it'll not be Accounted slavery to admit a Prince Chosen from out themselves: thy Virtues there May shine, as in their proper Sphere. Let others When they make war, have this ignoble end To gain they Slaves, Arsamnes gains a Friend. THus cited to a second night, wee've here Ventured our Errors to your weighing Ear. Wee'd thought they have been dead, as soon as born; For Dreams do seldom live until the morn. There's difference betwixt a College and a Court; The one expecteth Science, the other sport. Parts should be Dialogues there, but Points to you: They look for pleasing, you for found, and true. We fear then we have injured those, whose Age Does make the Schools the measure of the Stage: And justly thence for want of Logic darts, May dread those sturdy Yeomen of the Arts. We are not trained yet to the Trade, none's fit To fine for Poet, or for Player yet. We hope you'll Like it then, although rough filled; As the Nurse loves the lisping of the child. The Slave (then truly Royal, if you shall By your smiles too redeem him from his fallen) Hope's you'll dismiss him so, that he may swear, One Court being gone, he found another here. Though rays worser from Slave to King, he vows he will Resume his former Bonds, and be yours still. While thus we're joined we are too hard for fortune, Scarce Heaven it self can hurt us, for it will not. There's no care now remaining, but t'invent New pleasures. Let the hours wheel swiftly away In sports and Dances. Then we pay the Gods Best thanks, when we do show most sense of joy.