ATOSSA

Y'Have seen This Three-days King my Lords? I cannot sport At the Misery's of men: methinks I feel A touch of pity, as often as I view him. How do you think he'll bear his State? I hope you do but exercise, your wits Are not at sharps? Cease the strife. How's this Cratander qualified, my Lords' What virtues has he? MY Lords, what think you Of this new King? what does he do? what is he? Away, let's go and view again: he promises Something that is not sport: If he do well, And keep his virtues up until his fallen, I'll pay a good wish to him as he's going, And a fair mention of him when he's gone. See yonder where he sits; let's stand and see How he'll behave himself; the Lords have vowed To try him to the utmost What do you think Mandane? is he mortal? Mandane Do you and Ariene step down to em And try their Courtship. Your Justice must restore it. Will your severer Majesty triumph, With soft spoils of a Lady's Cabinet? But in that You make it common, you bereave it oh All that you call Divinity. How your thoughts slatter your deceived Fancy Into a State, that when you leave to think, Dies, as your thoughts that kept it up! what is't That you call joy and happiness? Why? I never spent A sighs for you; you never had a kiss, Nor the reversion of one yet. I am so far from ruining that Breast In which there lives a spark of chaster honour, That I would hazard this so prized a trifle, Which men call Life, that I might live there still; And prove that Love is but and Engine of The careful Powers, invented for the safety And preservation of afflicted goodness. Conceive not hence a passion burning towards you. For she that speaks Like woman, is a Queen. Your tongue hath spoke your thoughts so nobly . I bear a pity to your virtues, which Ever night shed Poppy twice over wearied world, Must only be in these two Registers; Annals, and Memory. Could you but contrive, How you might live without and injury Unto Religion, you should have this glory. To have a Queen your Instrument. Were it against my self, I'de not deny it. Walk in, I le follow you. In great designs. Ex. Crat. Valour helps much, but virtuous Love does more. It's not The veil that hinders the quick busy Eye From reading over the Face, but Modesty. He hath a weak defence, that does entrust The preservation of a chaster Love Unto a silken Cloud. Does not the Sun (the Sun, which yet you worship) Send beams to others than your self? yet those Which dwell on you lose neither light, nor heat, Coming not thence less vigorous, or less chased. Would you seal up a Fountain? or confine The Air unto your walk? would you enjoin The Flower to cast no smell, but as you pass? Love is as free as Fountain, Air, or Flower. For't stands not in a point; it's large, and may Like streams give verdure to this Plant that Tree, Nay that whole field of Flowers, and yet still run In a most faithful course towards the bosom Of the loved Ocean. If it branch Into a smaller twining here, and there, The water is not lost, nor does it quit The former Name; this is not to destroy, But to enlarge the stream: did it dry up, And leave the Fountain destitute, indeed You'd reason to be angry. Who would stifle And honest Fire? that flame's to be suspected That hides it self. When that a man of valour Graceth his Country with a good attempt, You give a Sword, and Horse, a Mannoure, nay Sometime a whole Province for reward. We have A sense of Virtue too, as well as you: And shall we be denied the Liberty To show we have that sense? A Favour is The Alms of Love; I do not pass away My heart in Charity Virtuous Cratander Shows forth so full a Transcript of your life, In all but his misfortunes, that methinks You may admire your self in him, as in Your shade. But yet let chased Atossa rather Not be at all, than not be wholly yours. THat we have naturally a desire To preserve Honour is a Principle Not questionable, but by those that would Corrupt, and rob us of it: that you prize Your Chastity more than wealth, and think your Cabinets Cheap and unworthy, if compared t'your minds, I'm so assured, that I needs only tell you The danger, not entreat you to avoid it. The Slaves next night intend a Rape upon Your Honour, and your Wealth; to tell your Husband Were to procure a slaughter on both sides. If we avert the riot, and become Our own defence, the Honour, as the Actium, Will be entirely ours: which may be done Only by flying to Arsamnes Castle. A thing so easy, that it'll only be To take the Air for fame: and when we do Return, our Husbands shall strew praises in Our ways which we will tread on, and contemn How I do love These worthy, noble thoughts the Actium Will make our Tombs not needs and Epitaph When we shall live still fresh in History. The sacred Gods of Marriage will present Themselves unto you night by night for this, And personally thank you in your Dreams, For thus preserving their Rites undefiled But time is short, I must away, to make Provision for our flight. If any do Desire a further satisfaction In this our grand design, we leave our Ladies Mandane here, and Ariene, who Can give a full relation of our business. Where Goodness is to suffer, I would willingly Become the Sacrifice my self to free it. I do't not to the Man, but to the Virtue. The deed's reward enough unto it self. Leave the Conditions to me: but peace; Expect me quietly a while, they come. Most virtuous Sir, you may expect perhaps Atossa's breast grown strange, and wrested from Her wonted faith; but witness Oh thou Sun, Whom with a pious eye I now behold, That I have neither tried t'unty, or loosen That sacred knot: but what I've condescended To aid thus far, is only a fair likeness Of something that I love in you. As his designs are honourable, so Are our intents, with which there needs must stand A resoluteness: it cannot be Virtue, Unles't be constant too. the approach o'th' Enemy Forbids me to say more: On to your Victory, Your wonted art to Conquer; they're the Relics Of a few scattered troops, the fragments of The last meal that your swords made; on, and when You have subdued them wholly, we will plant Fresh Baize upon your brows, and seal unto you A peace, as everlasting as our Loves. Let us be resolute now my Ladies, and At their return show them that they have something Left yet to Conquer; Breasts, that are not shaken With their loud noise of Trumpets. See, they're coming This was a Raze, no Battle; Let's prepare. But you must grant us some Conditions first. Cratanders life. Hear me Arsamnes: whom the raging sword Hath spared, why should the peaceable destroy? All hate's not ended in the field, I see: There's something still more cruel after war. If they are Gods, Pity's a Banquet to they. When ever the Innocent and Virtuous Does escape death, then is their Festival. Nectar never flows more largely, then when blood's Not spilled, that should be saved. Do y'thinke the smoke Of humane Enthralls is a steam that can Delight the Deities? Who ever did burn, The Building to the honour of the Architect? Or break the Tablet in the Painters praise? It's Mercy is the Sacrifice they Like. Alas! He would be near the Gods, he would leave us. You must not, shall not kill him, my Arsamnes. Speak Ariene, call to him Mandane. Will you be so ungrateful then, Cratander, As after all to cast away your self? Forbid him good Arsamnes, by these Tears I ask you: but I am too womanish. Here I must dwell, Arsamnes, ty worser by great And solemn Vows, (our Gods do now require it) Till you shall grant that the Ephesians may Still freely use their ancient Customs, changing Neither their Rites nor Laws, yet still reserving This honest Power unto your Royal self, To command only what the free are wont To undergo with gladness. I presume You scorn to have them subject as your own, And vile as strangers, Tyrants conquer thus. I hope your Majesty will not deny To grace a Company of younger Ladies, With the Like favourable eye. You Powers, Why are you grown thus cruel unto Virtue? IT will be a wish hereafter to be foul. I cannot see him die, and live my self. Pray you defer his death a while, don't post him Away; perhaps the Gods may spare him yet. Thou hast now, The voice and visage of the Gods, good Priest. The Heavens were never more serene. The Gods Have justified my care, Cratander.