CTESIPHON

O that will never be, Cyrus is strong, So strong my Lord, that were not Babylon, Fortified with victuals for twenty years, Guarded with soldiers that will never yield. Sooner would he expel you from your seat, Then you with open arms could anger him. Yet he that kills him sure is to die. My Lord I am resolved, give me the gold. And I will venture life in this exploit. As for the gold keep it till I return, and if I die deliver it to my friend. Fare well my lord Now you Assyrian gods, To whom we sacrifice our so-mens blood, Give favour to my looks, faith to my speech, That being gracious with the Persian Lord, By me Assyriam may be free from bans, And both the king and subjects death revenged. Vouchsafe Oh Lord to tell me what it is, If I attempt it not then let me die. In bending of my spear to Babylon, And breaking it against the Assyrian ground, I came a friend, not foe to Cyrus camp. That secret I reserve for Cyrus ears, Unto whose secret favour, I submit My person, honour, fortune, fame and life, Oh gracious Lord great and invincible, Receive into protection of your grace, A wretched man undone by tyranny, And lawless rigour of a cruel prince, I am, (I am said I) I was a man, Erst noble, now banished reprobate, Highly in favour with the Assyrian prince, Till sensual rage of his unbridled lust, Did lay my state and honour in the dust, And thus great Lord begun my Tragedy, One only virgin daughter had your thrall, Of years inclining now to marriage state, Her face and beauty (if I seem not vain) were equal to the best Assyrian dams, And she supposed the flower of Babylon. The bruit of which her rare perfections ran, Swifter than Fame through all the Assyrian land, And lastly rested in the princes ears, Who wounded with report of beauty's pride, Unable to restrain his darn desire, A trended by a band of armed men, Invades my castle when I was at rest, And bore my daughter thence with violate hands, Unto his palace where she does remain, As concubine allotted to his bed. Striving her desperate honour to preserve, I came in frantic sort to Babylon, Exclaiming on this villainous despite, Banding the prince with many a bitter view, My joust complaints when once he understood, He sorts me out a damned bloody crew, Of rustians, swearers, murderers, and thieves, Professed men for gain and lucre sake, To make no conscience whom they slay and kill, Those men by solemn oath had vowed my life, A sacrifice unto their cursed swords, And hour by hour they sought to reave my soul, Living in hazard of continual death, I knew no ho e for me at Babylon, Other then my graven and dumlesse sepulchre, And so for refuge to my wretched life, I h we abandoned country, friends and all, And prostrate my estate at Cyrus feet, Oh puissant Lord whose great and conquering sword, was forged by Mars and made for victory, Protect the life of thy unhappy thrall, And make him follower of the Persianarmes, That in the fortune of thy mighty hand, The fallen of Ctesiphon may be revenged. Oh Cyrus so it pleased the immortal Gods, How happy were thy servant, if his words proceeded from a vain dissembling tongue, So were my daughters honour undefiled, And Ctesiphon her father not exiled. Then should my ghost with seaselesse words oppressed. Pass and descend into the graven in rest. We gentle gentlemen devise of late, To shun the vulgar and the virtuous, Present to you worthy to judge of us, Our works of Worth and valiantness at once. What wants in us imagine in the works, What in the works condemn the writer of, But if the work and writing please you both, That Zenophon from whence we borrow write, Being both a soldier and philosopher, Warrants what we record of Panthea, It is writ in sad and tragic terms, May move you tears then you content, our muse That seems to trouble you again with toys Or needless antics imitations, Or shows, or new devises sprung a late, we have exiled them from our I ragicke stage, As trash of their tradition, that can bring nor instance, nor excuse. For what they do In stead of mournful plaints our Chorus sings, Although it be against the up start guise, Yet warranted by graven antiquity we will revive the which hath long been done. I murder Cyrus, far be such a thought, Much more the execution of the deed, Like as the Sun beams to the gazers eye, So is his view to daunted Ctesiphon, During the rancour of my wicked mind, And melting all in thoughts of sweet remorse, How wise and gracious is this Persian king, Who by his wisdom wins his followers hearts, Letting them march in armour wrought with gold, And he girded in a coat of complete steel. Oh Cyrus politic and liberal, How honourable and magnanimous? Rewarding virtue, and revenging wrongs, How full of temperance and fortitude, Daring to menace Fortune with his sword, Yet merciful in all his victories, Enter Cyrus. See where he comes, I'll fall upon the ground, And ask for pardon at his highness feet. Oh Cyrus, know Antiochus my Lord, My Lord, said I, no I will renounce him quite, Subornd me wretch with his persuasious words, To do a deed of such impiety, As I God knows suborn to think upon, It was thy death victorious Cyrus, But mighty Lord your virtues conquered me, And or and enemy false and treacherous, Am I become a vowed friend to Cyrus health, And in that resolution pressed to die. Seeing knightly Cyrus is thus merciful, Vouchsafe this service at thy vassals hands, Give me but letters from your Majesty, To signify how feign you would have peace, And draw your legions from Assyriam, And bearing them unto Antiochus, In the delivery I will murder him. So highly do I honour Cyrus name, So vildly think on base Antiochus. My Lord and king I bear no bloody sword, Nor stained with gore of Persians Cyrus heart, A prince he is far from delight in blood, Mild, lovely, virtuous, wise and bountiful, Able to reconcile his greatest foes, And make great princes of his meanest friends. The Persian prince inclines to terms of truce and craves the friendship of Antiochus, So please my Lord the king to firm a peace, For brief whereof his letters I present, Signed and delivered with his royal hand, Sincerely tending to the same effect, Whereto if once your highness condescend, He will withdraw his armies from Assyriam, And on the covenants sealde dissolve his camp. What reads my Lord aright, or does he feign? Oh prince my gilded is plain before my face, And witnessed with a princes seal, To slande upon denial were but vain, where open proof convicts me of offence, I say no more, but prostrate at your feet, Submit my self to mercy of my Lord, Not fate but my demerits makes me die, Oh now I find Niltutum proditor. Exeunt. The new Assyrian king, a man distainde With endless marks of villainy and blood. These thankless Persian whom I spared from death, Bequites me with the betraying of my life,