2002-12-19 John Latta MURP Added TEMPHEAD, checked ID, and added TYPEs to DIVs in order to validate. Checked for N=""s. Checked for GROUP tags. Proofed title page. Checked s. Reviewed structure; removed unneeded LGs; added a couple missing DIV3s; removed SPs around simple STAGEs. Checked placement and completeness of PBs; moved many PBs out of SPEAKERs (left inside SPs). Checked for damage GAPs, #s, @s, oes, --s, and UNCLEARs. Corrected $s and $Word$s. Checked for &cs with incorrect spacing. Checked for LBs. Checked for startqs and endqs, q;s, abq's, Ae's, and Qs. Checked for missing page GAPs. Checked for EPIGRAPHs and ARGUMENTS. Checked proofsheets and made corrections. Checked CLOSERs, TRAILERs, SIGNEDs, OPENERs, SALUTEs, BYLINEs. Sample: 7 minutes. Proofing: 15 minutes. Tag review and corrections: 35 minutes. DONE. D1009 11725164 48377

THE SOPHY.

As it was acted at the Private House in Black Friars by his Majesties Servants.

LONDON, Printed by Richard Hearne for Thomas Walkley, and are to be sold at his shop at the Signe of the Flying Horse betweene York-house and Britaines Burse. 1642.

 The Prologue. HIther yee come, dislike, and so undo The Players, and disgrace the Poet too; But he protests against your votes, and sweares Hee'll not be try'd by any, but his Peeres; He claimes his priviledge, and sayes 'tis fit, Nothing should be the Iudge of wit, but Wit. Now you will all be Wits, and be I pray; And you that discommend it, mend the Play: 'Tis the best satisfaction, he knowes then, His turne will come, to laugh at you agen. But Gentlemen, if yee dislike the Play, Pray make nowords on't till the second day, Or third be past: For we would have you know it, The losse will fall on us, not on the Poet: For he writes not for money, nor for praise, Nor to be call'd a Wit, nor to weare Bayes: Cares not for frownes or smiles: so now you'll say, Then why (the Devill) did he write a Play? He sayes, 'twas then with him, as now with you, He did it when he had nothing else to doe. The Epilogue. 'TIs done, and we alive agen, and now There is no Tragedie, but in your brow. And yet our Author hopes you are pleas'd, if not; This having fail'd, he has a second Plot: 'Tis this; the next day send us in your frends, Then laugh at them, and make your selves amends. Thus, whether it be good, or bad, yet you May please your selves, and you may please us too: But look you please the Poet, lest he vow A full revenge upon you all, but how? 'Tis not to kill you all twentie a day, Hee'll do't at once, a more compendious way He meanes to write againe; but so much worse, That seeing that, you'll think it a just curse For censuring this: 'faith give him your applause, As you give Beggars money; for no cause, But that hee's troublesome, and he has swore, As Beggars do, hee'll trouble you no more. Actors. Scena Persia. ABBAS King of Persia. MIRZA the Prince his Son. ERYTHaeA the Princesse his wife. HALY the Kings Favourite, Enemies to the Prince. MIRVAN, Haly's Confident,
ABDALL, Two Lords, friends to the Prince. MORAT,
CALIPH. SOLYMAN, a foolish Courtier. SOFFY, the Prince his son, now King of Persia. FATYMA, his daughter. 2 Turkish Bashawes. 3 Captaines. 2 Women. Physician. Tormentours. THE SOPHY. Actus Primus. Enter Abdall and Moratt. Mor. MY Lord, you have good intelligence, what newes From the Army, any certainty Of their designe or strength? Abd. We know not their designe: But for their strength, The disproportion is so great, we cannot, but Expect a fatall consequence. Mor. How great my Lord? Abd. The Turkes are fourescore thousand Foot, And fiftie thousand Horse. And we in the whole Excceed not forty thousand. Mor. Mee-thinkes the Prince should know That Judgement's more essentiall to a Generall, Then Courage, if he prove victorious 'Tis but a happie rashnesse. Abd. But if he lose the battaile, 'tis an error Beyond excuse, or remedy, considering That halfe the lesser Asia will follow The Victors fortune. Mor. 'Tis his single vertue And terror of his name, that walls us in From danger, were he lost, the naked Empire Would be a prey expos'd to all Invaders. Abd. But is't not necessary The King should know his danger? Mor. To tell him of so great a danger, Were but to draw a greater on our selves: For though his eye is open as the mornings, Towards lusts and pleasures, yet so fast a lethargie Has seiz'd his powers towards publike cares and dangers He sleepes like death. Abd. Hee's a man of that strange composition, Made up of all the worst extremities Of youth, and age. Mor. And though He feeles the heats of youth, and colds of age, Yet neither tempers, nor corrects the other; As if there were an Ague in his nature That still inclines to one extreame. Abd. But the Caliph, or Haly, or some that know His softer houres, might best acquaint him with it. Mor. Alas, they shew him nothing But in the glasse of flatterie, if any thing May beare a shew of glory, fame, or greatnesse, 'Tis multiplyed to an immense quantitie, And stretch't even to Divinitie: But if it tend to danger, or dishonour, They turne about the Perspective, and shew it So little, at such distance, so like nothing, That he can scarce discerne it. Abd. 'Tis the fate of Princes, that no knowledge Comes pure to them, but passing through the eyes And eares of other men, it takes a tincture From every channell; And still beares a rellish Of Flatterie, or private ends. Mor. But danger and necessitie Dare speake the truth. Abd. But commonly They speake not till it is too late: And for Haly, He that shall tell him of the Princes danger, But tells him that himselfe is safe. Scaena Secunda. Enter King, Princesse, and Solyman. King. Cleare up, cleare up, sweet Erythaea, That cloud that hangs upon thy brow presages A greater storme then all the Turkish power Can throw upon us, me-thinkes I see my fortune Setling her looks by thine, and in thy smile Sits victory, and in thy frowne our ruine: Why should not hope As much erect our thoughts, as feare deject them; Why should we Anticipate our sorrowes? 'Tis like those That die for feare of death: What is't you doubt, his courage or his fortune? Princesse. Envy it selfe could never doubt his courage. King. Then let not love doe worse, by doubting that Which is but valours slave; a wise well-temper'd valour, For such is his, those Gyants death, and danger, Are but his Ministers, and serve a Master More to be fear'd then they; and the blinde Goddesse Is led amongst the Captives in his triumph. Princesse. I had rather she had eyes, for if she saw him, Sure she would love him better; but admit Shee were at once a Goddesse, and his slave, Yet fortune, valour, all is overborne By numbers: as the long resisting Banke By the impetuous Torrent. King. That's but rumour, Ne're did the Turke invade our Territory, But Fame and Terrour doubled still their files: But when our troopes encountred, then we found Scarce a sufficient matter for our fury. But heark, a Post, Solyman conduct him in, A Horne within. 'Tis surely from the Prince. Enter Post, and delivers a Letter. King. Give it our Secretaries, I hope the Prince is well. Post. The Letter will informe you. (A Messenger. Mess. Sir, the Lords attend you. Ex. Princesse. Enter Lords. King. What newes from the Army? Lords. Please you to heare the Letter. King. Reade it. Lords. The Turke enraged with his last yeares overthrow, Hath re-enforc't his Army with the choice of all his Janizars, And the flowre of his whole Empire, we Understand by some fugitives, that he hath commanded The Generalls to returne with victory, or expect A shamefull death: what I shall further do, (Their numbers five times exceeding ours) I desire to receive directions from your Majesties command. King. Let twenty thousand men be raised. Let fresh supplyes of victuals, and of money, Be sent with speed. Lords. Sir, your Treasures Are quite exhausted, the Exchequer's empty. King. Talke not to me of Treasures, or Exchequers, Send for five hundred of the wealthiest Burgers, Their shops and ships are my Exchequer. Abd. 'Twere better you you could say their hearts. Abd. aside. Sir upon your late demands They answered they were poore. King. Sure the Villaines hold a correspondence With the enemie, and thus they would betray us: First give us up to want, then to contempt, And then to ruine; but tell those sonnes of earth Ile have their money, or their heads. Winde a horne. 'Tis my command, when such occasions are, No Plea must serve, 'tis cruelty to spare. Another Post. Exit Lords. King. The Prince transported with his youthfull heat, I feare hath gone too farre: 'Tis some disaster, Or else he would not send so thicke: well, bring him in; I am prepar'd to heare the worst of evils. Enter Solyman and two Captaines. Cap. kisses his hand. King. What, is the Prince besieged in his Trenches, And must have speedy ayd, or die by famine; Or hath he rashly try'd the chance of warre And lost his Army, and his Liberty. Tell me what Province they demand for ransome: Or if the worst of all mishaps hath fallen, Speake, for he could not die unlike himselfe: Speak freely; and yet me-thinkes I reade Something of better fortune in thy lookes, But dare not hope it. Cap. Sir, the Prince lives. King. And hath not lost his honour? Cap. As safe in honour as in life. King. Nor liberty? Cap. Free as the aire, he breathes. King. Returne with speed: Tell him he shall have money, victuals, men, With all the haste they can be levyed. Farewell. Offers to goe. Cap. But Sir, I have one word more. King. Then be briefe. Cap. So now you are prepar'd, and I may venture. King. What is't? Cap. Sir, a Fathers love mixt with a Princes care. This shewing dangers greater, and that nearer, Have rais'd your feares too high; and those remov'd, Too suddenly would let in such a deluge Of joy, as might oppresse your aged spirits, Which made me gently first remove your feares, That so you might have roome to entertaine Your fill of joy: Your sonn's a Conquerour. King. Delude me not with fained hopes, false joyes, It cannot be. And if he can but make A faire Retreat, I shall account it more Then all his former conquests, (those huge numbers Arm'd with despaire) the flower of all the Empire. Cap. Sir, I have not us'd to tell you tales or fables, And why should you suspect your happinesse, Being so constant. On my life 'tis true Sir. King. Well, Ile no more suspect My fortune, nor thy faith: Thou and thy newes most welcome, Solyman Goe call the Princesse and the Lords, they shall Participate our joyes, as well as cares. Enter Princesse and Lords. King. Faire daughter, blow away those mists and clouds, And let thy eyes shine forth in their full lustre; Invest them with thy loveliest smiles, put on Thy choycest lookes: hee's comming will deserve them. Princesse. What, is the Prince return'd with safety? 'tis above Beleefe or hope. King. I, sweet Erythaea, Laden with spoyles and honour: all thy feares, Thy wakefull terrors, and affrighting dreames, Thy morning sighes, and evening teares have now Their full rewards. And you my Lords Prepare for Masques and Triumphs: Let no circumstance Be wanting, that becomes The greatnesse of our State, or Joy. Behold he comes. Enter Prince with Captaines, and two Captive Bashawes. King. Welcome brave sonne, as welcome to thy father As Phoebus was to Iove, when he had slaine Th' ambitious Gyants that assayl'd the skie; And as my power resembles that of Ioves, So shall thy glory like high Phoebus shine As bright, and as immortall. Prince. Great Sir, all acquisition Of Glory as of Empire, here I lay before Your Royall feet, happy to be the Instrument To advance either: Sir, I challenge nothing, But am an humble suitor for these prisoners, The late Commanders of the Turkish powers, Whose valours have deserv'd a better fortune. King. Then what hath thine deserv'd; th' are thine brave Mirzah, Worthy of all thy Royall Ancestors, And all those many Kindomes, which their vertue, Or got, or kept, though thou hadst not beene borne to't. But daughter still your lookes are sad, No longer Ile deferre your joyes, goe take him Into thy chaste embrace, and whisper to him That welcome which those blushes promise. Exit King. Prince. My Erythaea, why entertain'st thou with so sad a brow My long desir'd return, thou wast wont With kisses and sweet smiles, to welcome home My victories, though bought with sweat and bloud; And long expected. Princesse. Pardon Sir, 'Tis with our soules As with our eyes, that after a long darknesse Are dazled at the approach of sudden light: When i'th' midst of feares we are surpriz'd With unexpected happinesse: the first Degrees of joy are meere astonishment. And 'twas so lately in a dreadfull dreame I saw my Lord so neare destruction, Deprived of his eyes, a wretched Captive; Then shriekt my selfe awake, then slept againe And dreamt the same; my ill presaging fancy Suggesting still 'twas true. Prince. Then I forgive thy sadnesse, since love caus'd it, For love is full of feares; and feare, the shadow Of danger, like the shadow of our bodies, Is greater then, when that which is the cause Is farthest off. Princesse. But still there's something That checks my joyes, Nor can I yet distinguish Which is the apparition, this, or that. Prince. An apparition? At night I shall resolve that doubt, and make Thy dreames more pleasing. Enter Haly and Mirvan. Mir. The time has beene my Lord, When I was no such stranger to your thoughts; You were not wont to weare upon your brow A frowne, or smile, but still have thought me worthy, At least to know the cause. Ha. 'Tis true, Thy breast hath ever beene the Cabinet Where I have lockt my secrets. Mir. And did you ever finde That any art could picke the locke, or power Could force it open. Ha. No, I have ever found thee Trusty and secret. But is't observ'd i'th' Court That I am sad? Mir. Observ'd? 'tis all mens wonder and discourse, That in a Joy so great, so universall, You should not beare a part. Ha. Discour'st of too? Mir. Nothing but treason More commonly, more boldly spoken. So singular a sadnesse Must have a cause as strange as the effect: And griefe conceal'd, like hidden fire consumes; Which flaming out, would call in helpe to quench it. Ha. But since thou canst not mend it, To let thee know it will but make thee worse; Silence and time shall cure it. Mir. But in diseases when the cause is knowne, 'Tis more then halfe the cure: You have my Lord My heart to counsell, and my hand to act, And my advice and actions both have met Successe in things unlikely. Ha. But this Is such a secret, I dare hardly trust it To my owne soule. And though it be a crime, In friendship to betray a trusted Counsell, Yet to conceale this were a greater crime, And of a higher nature. Mir. Now I know it, And your endeavour to conceale it, Speakes it more plainly. 'Tis some plot upon the Prince. Ha. Oh thou hast toucht my soare, and having searcht it, Now heale it if thou canst: The Prince doth hate me, Or loves me not, or loves another better, Which is all one. This being knowne in Court, Has rendred me despis'd, and scorn'd of all: For I that in his absence Blaz'd like a starre of the first magnitude, Now in his brighter sun-shine am not seene: No applications now, no troopes of suitors; No power, no not so much as to doe mischiefe. Mir. My Lord, I am asham'd of you, So ill a master in an art, so long Profest, and practiz'd by you to be angry, And angry with a Prince. And yet to shew it In a sad looke, or womanish complaint: How can you hope to compasse your designes, And not dissemble 'em. Goe flatter and adore him, Stand first among the crowd of his admirers. Ha. Oh I have often spread those nets, but he Hath ever beene too wise to thinke them reall. Mir. However, Dissemble still, thanke him for all his injuries; Take 'em for favours, if at last You cannot gaine him; some pretty nimble poyson May doe the feat. Or if he will abroad Finde him some brave and honourable danger. Ha. Have I not found him out as many dangers As Iuno did for Hercules: yet he returnes Like Hercules, doubled in strength and honour. Mir. If danger cannot doe it, then trie pleasure, Which when no other enemie survives, Still conquers all the Conquerours. Endeavour To soften his ambition into lust, Contrive fit opportunities, and lay Baytes for temptation. Ha. Ile leave nothing unattempted: But sure this will not take, for all his Passions, Affections, and Faculties are slaves Onely to his ambition. Mir. Then let him fall by his owne greatnesse, And puffe him up with glory, till it swell And breake him. First, betray him to himselfe, Then to his ruine: From his vertues suck a poyson, As Spiders doe from flowers; praise him to his father, You know his nature: Let the Princes glory Seeme to ecclipse, and cast a cloud on his; And let fall something that may raise his jealousie: But least he should suspect it, draw it from him As fishers doe the bayte, to make him follow it. Ha. But the old King is so suspitious. Mir. But withall Most fearefull: He that viewes a Fort to take it Plants his Artillerie gainst the weakest part: Worke on his feares, till feare hath made him cruell; And cruelty shall make him feare againe. Me thinkes (my Lord) you that so oft have sounded And fathom'd all his thoughts, that know the deeps And shallowes of his heart, should need no instruments To advance your ends, his passions, and his feares Lye Liegers for you in his brest, and there Negotiate their affaires. Enter King, Solyman, and Lords to them. King. Solyman, be it your care to entertaine the Captaines And the Prisoners, and use them kindly. Sol. Sir, I am not for entertainments now I am melancholy. King. What, griev'd for our good fortune? Sol. No Sir, but now the warres are, done, we want pretences To put off Creditors: I am haunted Sir. King. Not with Ghosts. Sol. No Sir, Materiall and Substantiall Devils. King. I know the cause, what is't thou ow'st them? Sol. Not much Sir, but so much, as spoyles me for a good fellow; 'Tis but 2000 Dollars. A small summe—to you Sir. King. Well, it shall be paid. Sol. Then if the Devill come for drinking, let me alone with him. Well, Drinke, I love thee but too well already, But I shall love thee better hereafter: I have often Drunke my selfe into debt, but never out of debt till now. Exeunt. Finis Act. Primi. Actus Secundus. Scaena Prima. Enter Prince, Haly, Captaines and Prisoners, Bashawes. Prince. Captaines, me-thinkes you looke like fishes out of water, I see the Court is not your element: You must to the warres againe. 1. Cap. Faith Sir, These young Gallants are so taken up with Their Mistresses; I doubt their edge is taken off from The warres. 2. Cap. I, and their backes too. 1. Cap. But for us old ones we're weary of being laught at By these Court hobby-horses, for making legges, and Kissing hands unhandsomely. 2. Cap. And to be censured by the she criticks, because our Legges are bigger then the Court standard, And therefore out of fashion. 1. Cap. And such a gigling, because ones band's unpin'd; Anothers beard not well turn'd up: And such a Fiddle faddle, 'tis not to be endur'd. Prince. Well, howsoever you are dealt with, Pray let these strangers finde such entertainment As you would have desir'd, Had but the chance of warre determin'd it For them, as now for us; and you brave enemies Forget your Nation, and ungratefull Master: And know that I can set so high a price On valour, though in foes, as to reward it With trust and honour. 1. Bashaw. Sir, your twice conquered Vassals, First by your courage, then your clemencie, Here humbly vow to sacrifice their lives, (The gift of this your unexampled mercy) To your commands and service. Prince to Haly. I pray (my Lord) second my suite, I have already mov'd the King in private, That in our next yeares expedition they may have Some command. Ha. I shall, my Lord, And glad of the occasion. aside. I wonder Sir you'le leave the Court, the sphere Where all your graces in full lustre shine. Prince. I Haly, but the reputation Of vertuous actions past, if not kept up With an accesse, and fresh supply of new ones, Is lost and soone forgotten: and like Palaces, For want of habitation and repaire, Dissolve to heapes of ruine. Ha. But can you leave, Sir, Your old indulgent father, and forsake The embraces of so faire, so chaste a wife, And all the beauties of the Court besides, Are mad in love, and dote upon your person: And is't not better sleeping in their armes, Then in a cold Pavilion in the campe, Where your short sleepes are broke and interrupted With noyses and alarms? Prince. Haly, thou know'st not me, how I despise These short and empty pleasures; and how low They stand in my esteeme which every Peasant, The meanest Subject in my fathers Empire Enjoyes as fully, in as high perfection As he or I; and which are had in common By beasts aswell as men: wherein they equall, If not exceed us, pleasures to which wee're led Onely by sence; those creatures which have least Of reason, most enjoy. Ha. Is not The Empire you are borne to, a Scene large enough To exercise your vertues? There are vertues Civill aswell as militarie; for the one You have given the world an ample proofe already: Now exercise the other, 'tis no lesse To governe justly, make your Empire flourish With wholesome lawes, in riches, peace and plenty, Then by the expence of wealth, and bloud to make New acquisitions. Prince. That I was borne so great, I owe to fortune, And cannot pay that debt, till vertue set me High in example, as I am in title; Till what the world calls fortune's gifts my actions, May stile their owne rewards, and those too little. Princes are then themselves, when they arise More glorious in mens thoughts then in their eyes. Ha. Sir, your fame Already fils the world, and what is infinite Cannot receive degrees, but will swallow All that is added, as our Caspian sea Receives our rivers, and yet seemes not fuller: And if you tempt her more, the winde of fortune May come about, and take another point And blast your glories. Prince. No, My glories are past danger, they're full blowne, Things that are blasted are but in their bud; And as for fortune, I nor love, nor feare her: I am resolved, goe Haly, flatter still your aged Master, Still sooth him in his pleasures, and still grow Great by those arts. Well, farewell Court, Where vice not onely hath usurp't the place, But the reward, and even the name of vertue; Wee'le goe and hunt, it is a Princely sport And much resembles warre. Cap. Such warres as ours, Where we have us'd to follow chases. Prince. It shewes us pretty dangers, and acquaints us With scituations, while I view the hills, The thickets, and the rivers; here me-thinkes, With best advantage I could pitch my campe: Here range my Army, there the battaile joyne; Here make a safe retreat, and there enclose The enemie, as beasts within a toyle: And yet I can observe the chased Stagge, How he can cast about to seeke his safety; And when he sees his death is unavoydable, How he will weepe. I can observe the Dogs too, How some in swiftnesse, some in scent excell; Others in cry: But let us lose no time, Me-thinkes the Courts a prison. Ex, Man. Ha. Still, still, Sleighted and scorn'd, yet this affront Hath stampt a noble title on my malice, And married it to Justice. The King is old, And when the Prince succeedes, I'me lost past all recovery, then I Must meet my danger, and destroy him first; But cunningly, and closely, or his sonne And wife, like a fierce Tygresse will devoure me. There's danger every way; and since 'tis so, 'Tis brave, and noble, when the falling waight Of my owne ruine crushes those I hate: But how to doe it, that's the worke, he stands So high in reputation with the people, There's but one way, and that's to make his father The instrument, to give the name, and envie To him; but to my selfe the prize and glory. He's old and jealous, apt for suspitions, gainst which tyrants ears Are never clos'd. The Prince is young, Fierce, and ambitious, I must bring together All these extreames, and then remove all Mediums, That each may be the others object. Enter Mirvan. Mir. My Lord, Now if your plots be right, you are befriended With opportunity; The King is melancholy, Apted for any ill impressions. Make an advantage of the Princes absence, Urge some suspected cause of his departure, Use all your art, hee's comming. Exit. Mir. Enter King. Ha. Sir, have you knowne an action of such glory Lesse swel'd with oftentation, or a minde Lesse tainted with felicitie. 'Tis a rare temper in the Prince. King. Is it so rare to see a sonne so like His father? Have not I perform'd actions As great, and with as great a moderation? Ha. I Sir, but that's forgotten. Actions o'th' last age are like Almanacks o'th' last yeare. King. 'Tis well, but if with all his conquests, what I get in Empire I lose in fame, I thinke my selfe no gainer. But am I quite forgotten? Ha. Sir, you know Age breeds neglect in all, and actions Remote in time, like objects Remote in place, are not beheld at halfe their greatnesse; And what is new, findes better acceptation, Then what is good or great: yet some old men Tell Stories of you in their chimney corners. King. No otherwise. Ha. They're all so full of him: some magnifie His courage, some his wit, but all admire A greatnesse so familiar. King. Sure Haly Thou hast forgot thy selfe: art thou a Courtier, Or I a King? my eares are unacquainted With such bold truthes; especially from thee. Ha. Sir, when I am call'd to't, I must speake Boldly and plainly. King. But with what eagernesse, what circumstance, Unaskt, thou tak'st such paines to tell me onely My sonne's the better man. Ha. Sir, where Subjects want the priviledge To speake; there Kings may have the priviledge To live in ignorance. King. If 'twere a secret that concern'd my life Or Empire, then this boldnesse might become thee, But such unnecessary rudenesse savours Of some designe. And this is such a false and squint-ey'd praise, Which seeming to looke upwards on his glories, Lookes downe upon my feares; I know thou hat'st him, And like infected persons faine would'st rub The ulcer of thy malice upon me. Ha. Sir, I almost beleeve you speake your thoughts, But that I want the guilt to make me feare it. King. What meane these guilty blushes then? Ha. Sir, if I blush, it is because you doe not, To upbraid so try'd a servant, that so often Have wak'd, that you might sleepe; and beene expos'd To dangers for your safety. King. And therefore think'st Thou art so wrapt, so woven into all My trusts and counsells, that I now must suffer All thy Ambition aymes at. Ha. Sir, if your love growes weary, And thinks you have worne me long enough, I'me willing To be left off; but hee's a foolish Sea-man, That when his shippe is sinking, will not Unlade his hopes into another bottome. King. I understand no Allegories. Ha. And hee's as ill a Courtier, that when His Master's old, desires not to comply With him that must succeed. King. But if He will not be comply'd with? Ha. Oh Sir, There's one sure way, and I have knowne it practiz'd In other States. King. What's that? Ha. To make The fathers life the price of the sonnes favour, To walke upon the graves of our dead Masters, To our owne securitie. King starts and scratches his head. Ha. aside. 'Tis this must take: Does this plainnesse please you Sir? King. and Haly: thou know'st my nature, too too apt To these suspitions, but I hope the question Was never mov'd to thee. Ha. In other Kingdomes Sir. King. But has my sonne no such designe. Ha. Alas, You know I hate him; and should I tell you He had, you'd say it was but malice. King. No more of that good Haly, I know thou lov'st me, But least the care of future safety tempt thee To forfeit present loyaltie; or present loyaltie Forfeit thy future safety. Ile be your reconciler, call him hither. Ha. Oh Sir, I wish he were within my call, or yours. King. Why, where is he? Ha. He has left the Court Sir. King. I like not these excursions, why so suddenly? Ha. 'Tis but a sally of youth, yet some say hee's discontented. King. That grates my heart-strings. What should discontent him? Except he thinke I live too long. Ha. Heaven forbid: And yet I know no cause of his departure, I'me sure hee's honoured, and lov'd by all; The Souldiers god, the peoples Idoll. King. I Haly, The Persians still worship the rising sunne; But who went with him? Ha. None but the Captaines. King. The Captaines? I like not that. Ha. Never feare it Sir, 'Tis true, they love him but as their Generall, not their Prince. And though he be most forward and ambitious, 'Tis temper'd with so much humility. King. And so much the more dangerous; There are some that use Humilitie to serve their pride, and seeme Humble upon their way, to be the prouder At their wisht journeys end. Ha. Sir, I know not What wayes or ends you meane; 'tis true In popular States, or where the Princes Title Is weake, and must be propt by the peoples power; There by familiar wayes 'tis necessary To winne on mens affections. But none of these Can be his end. King. But there's another end, For if his glories rise upon the ruines Of mine, why not his greatnesse too? Ha. True Sir, Ambition is like love, impatient Both of delayes and rivalls. But Nature. King. But Empire. Ha. I had almost forgot Sir, he has A suit to your Majestie. King. What is't? Ha. To give the Turkish prisoners some command In the next action. King. Nay, then 'tis too apparent, He feares my Subjects loyaltie, And now must call in strangers; come deale plainly, I know thou canst discover more. Ha. I can discover (Sir) The depth of your great judgement in such dangers. King. What shall I doe Haly? Ha. Your wisdome is so great it were presumption for me to advise. King. Well, wee'le consider more of that, but for the present Let him with speed be sent for: Mahomet, I thanke thee I have one faithfull servant, honest Haly. Exit. King Enter Mirvan. Mir. How did he take it? Ha. Swallow'd it as greedily As parched earth drinkes raine. Now the first part of our designe is over, His ruine, but the second our securitie, Must now be thought on. Mir. My Lord, you are too sudden, though his furie Determine rashly, yet his colder feare Before it executes, consults with reason, And that not satisfied, with shewes, or shadowes, Will aske to be convinc't by something reall; Now must we frame some plot, and then discover it. Ha. Or intercept some letter, which our selves Had forg'd before. Mir. And still admire the miracle, And thanke the providence. Ha. Then we must draw in some body To be the publique Agent, that may stand 'Twixt us and danger, and the peoples envy. Mir. Who fitter then the grand Caliph? And he shall set a grave religious face Upon the businesse. Ha. But if we cannot worke him, For hee's so full of foolish scruples; Or if he should prove false, and then betray us. Mir. Betray us? sure (my Lord) your feare ha'sblinded Your understanding; for what serves the King? Will not his threats worke more then our perswasions, While we looke on, and laugh, and seeme as ignorant As unconcern'd; and thus appearing friends To either side, on both may worke our ends. Enter Mess. Mess. My Lord, the Turkish Bashawes Desire accesse. Ha. Admit 'em, I know their businesse. Mir. They long to heare with what successe you mov'd The King in their behalfe. Ha. But now they're come I'le make 'em doe my businesse Better then I did theirs. Mir. Leave us a while. Exit Mir. Enter two Bashawes. Ha. My Lords, my duty and affection to the Prince, And the respects I owe to men of honour, Extort a secret from me, which yet I grieve to utter: The Prince departing, left to me the care Of your affaires, which I, as he commanded, Have recommended to the King, but with so unlookt for A successe. 1. Bas. My Lord, feare not to speake our doome, while we Feare not to heare it, we were lost before, And can be ready now to meet that fate We then expected. Ha. Though he that brings unwelcome newes Ha's but a losing Office, yet he that shewes Your danger first, and then your way to safety, May heale that wound he made; you know the King With jealous eyes hath ever look't awry On his sonnes actions, but the fame and glory Of the last warre hath rais'd another spirit, Envy and Jealousie are twin'd together, Yet both lay hid in his dissembled smiles, Like two concealed serpents, till I, unhappy I, Moving this question, trod upon them both, And rouz'd their sleeping angers; then casting from him His doubts, and straight confirm'd in all his feares, Decrees to you a speedy death, to his owne sonne A close restraint, but what will follow I dare not thinke; you by a sudden flight may finde your safety. 2. Bas. Sir, Death and we are not such strangers, That we should make dishonour, or ingratitude The price of life, it was the Princes gift, And we but weare it for his sake and service. Ha. Then for his sake and service Pray follow my advice, thgh you have lost the favour Of your unworthy master; yet in the Provinces You lately governed, you have those dependances And interests, that you may raise a power To serve the Prince: I'le give him timely notice To stand upon his guard. 1. Bas. My Lord, we thanke you, But we must give the Prince intelligence, Both when, and how to imploy us. Ha. If you will write, Commit it to my care and secrecie, To see it safe convey'd. 2. Bas. We shall my Lord. Exit. Ha. These men were once the Princes foes, and then Unwillingly they made him great: but now Being his friends, shall willingly undoe him; And which is more, be still his friends. What little Arts governe the world! we need not An armed enemy, or corrupted friend; When service but misplac't, or love mistaken, Performes the worke: nor is this all the use I'le make of them, when once they are in armes, Their Master shall be wrought to thinke these forces Rays'd against him; and this shall so endeare me To him, that though dull vertue and the gods O'recome my subtle mischiefe, I may finde A safe retreat, and may at least be sure, If not more mighty, to be more secure. Exeunt. Finis Act. Secundi. Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. Enter King, and Haly. King. But Haly, what confederates ha's the Prince In his conspiracie? Ha. Sir, I can yet suspect None but the Turkish prisoners, and that onely From their late sudden flight. King. Are they fled? for what? Ha. That, their owne feares best know, their entertainment I'me sure was such as could not minister Suspition, or dislike; but sure they're conscious Of some intended mischiefe, and are fled To put it into act. King. This still confirmes me more, But let 'em be pursu'd; let all the passages Be well secur'd, that no intelligence May passe betweene the Prince and them. Ha. It shall be done Sir. King. Is the Caliph prepar'd. Ha. Hee's without, Sir, And waytes your pleasure. King. Call him. Enter Haly, and Caliph. King. I have a great designe to act, in which The greatest part is thine. In briefe 'tis this, I feare my sonnes high spirit, and suspect Designes upon my life and Crowne. Ca. Sure Sir, your feares are causelesse, Such thoughts are strangers to his noble soule. King. No, 'tis too true, I must prevent my danger, And make the first attempt; there's no such way To avoyde a blow, as to strike first, and sure. Ca. But Sir, I hope my function shall exempt me, From bearing any part in such designes. King. Your function? [Laugh's] do you thinke that Princes Will raise such men so neare themselves for nothing? We but advance you to advance our purposes: Nay, even in all religions Their learnedst, and their seeming holiest men, but serve To worke their masters ends; and varnish o're Their actions, with some specious pious colour. No scruples; doo't, or by our holy Prophet, The death my rage intends to him, is thine. Ca. Sir, 'tis your part to will, mine to obey. King. Then be wise, and suddaine. Enter Lords as to Councell. Ab. Mor. Ca. My Lords, it grieves me to relate the cause Of this Assembly; and 'twill grieve you all: The Prince you know stands high in all those graces Which Nature, seconded by fortune, gives: Wisedome he ha's, and to his wisedome courage; Temper to that, and unto all, successe. But Ambition, the disease of Vertue, bred Like surfets from an undigested fulnesse, Meets death in that which is the meanes of life. Great Mahomet, to whom our Soveraigne life, And Empire is most deare, appearing, thus Advis'd me in a vision: Tell the King, The Prince his sonne attempts his life and Crowne; And though no creature lives that more admires His vertues, nor affects his person more Then I; yet zeale and duty to my Soveraigne Have cancel'd all respects, nor must we slight The Prophets revelations. Abd. Remember Sir, he is your sonne, Indeared to you by a double bond, As to his King, and father. And the remembrance of that double bond Doubles my sorrowes. 'Tis true, Nature and duty binde him to obedience; But those being placed in a lower sphere, His fierce ambition, like the highest mover, Ha's hurried with a strong impulsive motion Against their proper course. But since he has forgot The duty of a sonne, I can forget The affections of a father. Abd. But Sir, in the beginning of diseases None trye the extreamest remedies. King. But when they're suddaine, The cure must be as quicke; when I'me dead, you'le say My feares have beene too slow: Treasons are acted Assoone as thought, though they are ne're beleeved Untill they come to act. Mor. But consider Sir, The greatnesse of the attempt, the people love him; The lookers on, and the enquiring vulgar Will talke themselves to action: thus by avoyding A danger but suppos'd, you tempt a reall one. King. Those Kings whom envy, or the peoples murmure Deterres from their owne purposes, deserve not, Nor know not their owne greatnesse, The peoples murmure, 'tis a sulphurous vapour Breath'd from the bowels of the basest earth; And it may soyle, and blast things neare it selfe: But ere it reach the region we are plac't in, It vanishes to ayre, we are above The sence, or danger of such stormes. Cap. True Sir, they are but stormes while Royaltie Stands like a Rocke, and the tumultuous vulgar, Like billowes rais'd with winde, (that's with opinion) May roare, and make a noyse, and threaten; But if they rowle too neare, they're dash't in pieces While they stand firme. Abd. Yet Sir, Crownes are not plac't so high, But vulgar hands may reach 'em. King. Then 'tis when they are plac't on vulgar heads. Abd. But Sir, Looke backe upon your selfe; why should your sonne Anticipate a hope so neare, so certaine, we may wish and pray For your long life: But neither prayers nor power Can alter Fates decree, or Natures Law. Why should he ravish then that Diadem From your gray temples, which the hand of time Must shortly plant on his. King. My Lords, I see you looke upon me as a sunne Now in his West, halfe buryed in a cloud, Whose rayes the vapours of approaching night Have rendred weake and faint: But you shall finde That I can yet shoot beames, whose heat can melt The waxen wings of this ambitious boy. Nor runnes my bloud so cold, nor is my arme So feeble yet, but he that dares defend him Shall feele my vengeance, and shall usher me Into my grave. Ab. Sir, we defend him not, Onely desire to know his crime: 'Tis possible It may be some mistake, or mis-report, Some false suggestion, or malicious scandall: Or if ambition be his fault, 'twas yours, He had it from you when he had his beeing; Nor was't his fault, nor yours, for 'tis in Princes A crime to want it; from a noble spirit Ambition can no more be separated Then heat from fire: Or if you feare the vision, Will you suspect the noble Prince, because This holy man is troubled in his sleepe, Because his crazie stomack wants concoction, And breedes ill fumes; or his melancholy spleene Sends up fantastick vapours to his braine: Dreames are but dreames, these causelesse feares become not Your noble soule. King. Who speakes another word Hath spoke his last: Great Mahomet we thanke thee, Protector of this Empire, and this life, Thy cares have met my feares; this on presumptions Strong and apparent, I have long presag'd, And though a Prince may punish what he feares, Without account to any but the Gods; Wise States as often cuts off ills, that may be, As those that are; and prevent purposes Before they come to practise; and foule practises Before they grow to Act: you cannot but observe How he dislikes the Court, his rude departure, His honour from the people and the souldiers, His seeking to oblige the Turkes his prisoners, Their sudden and suspected flight: And above all, his restlesse towring thoughts. A Horne winded without. King. If the businesse be important, Admit him. Enter Post with a Letter. Post. Sir, upon your late command To guard the passages, and search all packets, This to the Prince was intercepted. King opens it and reades it to himselfe. King. Here Abdall, reade it. Abdall reades. The Letter. Ab. reades. Sir, we are assured how unnaturally your fathers intentions Are towards you, and how cruell towards us; we have Made an escape, not so much to seeke our owne, As to be instruments of your safety: We will be In armes upon the borders, upon your command Either to seeke danger with you, or to receive you If you please, to seeke safety with us. King. Now my Lords, Alas my feares are causelesse, and ungrounded Fantastick dreames, and melancholike fumes Of crazie stomacks, and distempered braines: Has this convinc't you? Mor. Sir, we see Some reason you should feare, but whom, we know not; 'Tis possible these Turkes may play the Villaines, Knowing the Prince, the life of all our hopes, Staffe of your age, and pillar of your Empire; And having fail'd by force, may use this Art To ruine him, and by their treason here To make their peace at home. Now should this prove a truth, when he ha's suffred Death, or disgrace, which are to him the same, 'Twill be too late to say you were mistaken, And then to cry him mercy: Sir, we beseech you A while suspend your doome, till time produce Her wonted off-spring Truth. King. And so expecting The event of what you thinke, shall prove the experiment Of what I feare; but since he is my sonne, I cannot have such violent thoughts towards him As his towards me: he onely shall remaine A prisoner till his death, or mine enlarge him. Exit Lords, Man. Haly. Solyman peepes in. King. Away, away, wee're serious. Sol. But not so serious to neglect your safety. King. Art thou in earnest? Sol. Nay Sir, I can be serious aswell as my betters. King. What's the matter? Sol. No, I am an inconsiderable fellow, and know nothing. King. Let's heare that nothing then: Sol. The Turkes Sir. King. What of them? Sol. When they could not overcome you by force, they'le Doe it by treacherie. King. As how? Sol. Nay, I can see as farre into a milstone, as another man. They have corrupted some ill-affected persons. King. What to doe? Sol. To nourish Jealousies 'twixt you and your sonce. King. My sonne? where is he? Sol. They say hee's posting hither. King. Haly, we are betrayed, prevented, looke to the Ports, and let The Guards be doubled: how farre's his Army hence? Is the Citie in armes to joyne with him? Sol. Armes? and joyne with him? I understand you not. King. Didst thou not say the Prince was comming? Sol. I heard some foolish people say you had sent for Him, as a Traytor, which to my apprehension was on Purpose spoken to make you odious, and him desperate; And so divide the people into faction. A Plot of Dangerous consequence, as I take it Sir. King. And is this all, thou sawcy trifling foole? Away With him. Haly. Sir, this seeming foole is a concealed dangerous knave, Under that safe disguise he thinks he may say or doe Any thing: you'le little thinke him the chiefe conspirator, The onely spy t'informe the Prince of all is done in Court. King. Let him be rack't and tortur'd, till he confesse The whole conspiracie. Sol. Rack't, and tortur'd? I have told you all I know, and more; There's nothing more in me Sir, but may be squeezed Out without racking, onely a stoope or two of Wine; And if there had not beene too much of that, you had Not had so much of the other. King. That's your cunning, sirrah. Sol. Cunning Sir, I am no Polititian; and was ever thought to have Too little wit, and too much honesty for a States-man. Exit. King. Away with him. Ha. But something must be done Sir, to satisfie the people: 'Tis not enough to say he did designe, Or plot, or thinke, but did attempt some violence, And then some strange miraculous escape, For which our Prophet must have publique thankes; And this false colour shall delude the eyes Of the amazed vulgar. King. 'Tis well advis'd. Enter Mess. Mess. Sir, His highnesse is return'd. King. And unconstrain'd? But with what change of countenance Did he receive the message. Mess. With some amazement, But such as sprung from wonder, not from feare, It was so unexpected. King. Leave us. Haly, I ever found thee honest; truer to me Then mine owne bloud, and now's the time to shew it: For thou art he my love and trust hath chosen To put in action my designe: surprise him As he shall passe the Galleries. I'le place A guard behind the Arras; when thou hast him, Since blinded with ambition, he did soare Like a seel'd Dove; his crime shall be his punishment To be depriv'd of sight, which see perform'd With a hot steele▪ Now as thou lov'st my safety Be resolute, and suddaine. Ha. 'Tis severe, But yet I dare not intercede, it shall be done; But is that word irrevocable? King. I, as yeares, or ages past; relent not, if thou do'st Exit. King. Enter Mirvan. Mir. Why so melancholy? is the designe discovered. Ha. No, but I am made the instrument, That still endeavoured to disguise my plots With borrowed lookes, and make'em walke in darkenesse, To act 'em now my selfe; be made the marke For all the peoples hate, the Princesse curses, And his sonnes rage, or the old Kings inconstancy, For this to Tyranny belongs, To forget service, but remember wrongs. Mir. But could not you contrive Some fine pretence to cast it on some other. Ha. No, he dares trust no other; had I given But the least touch of any private quarrell, My malice to his sonne, not care of him, Had then begot this service. Mir. 'Tis but t'other plot my Lord, you know The King by other wives had many sonnes Soffy is but a childe, and you already Command the Emperours Guard; procure for me The governement o'th' Citie, when he dies, Urge how unfortunate those States have beene Whose Princes are but children: then set the Crowne Upon some others head, that may acknowledge And owe the Empire to your gift. Ha. It shall be done Abdall, who commands The Citie, is the Princes friend, and therefore Must be displac't, and thou shalt straight succeed him. Thou art my better Genius, honest Mirvan, Greatnesse we owe to fortune, or to fate, But wisedome onely can secure that state. Ex. Enter Prince at one doore, and Princesse at another. Princesse. You're double welcome now (my Lord) your comming Was so unlook't for. Prince. To me I'me sure it was; Know'st thou the cause? for sure it was important, That calls me backe so suddenly. Princesse. I am so ignorant, I knew not you were sent for. Waking I know no cause, but in my sleepe My fancy still presents such dreames, and terrors, As did Andromache's the night before Her Hector fell; but sure 'tis more then fancie. Either our guardian Angels, or the Gods Inspire us, or some naturall instinct, Fore-tells approaching dangers. Prince. How does my father. Princesse. Still talkes and playes with Fatyma, but 'his mirth Is forc't, and strain'd: In his looke appeares A wilde distracted fiercenesse, I can reade Some dreadfull purpose in his face; but where This dismall cloud will breake, and spend his furie, I dare not thinke: pray heaven make false his feares. Sometimes his anger breakes through all disguises, And spares nor gods, nor men; and then he seemes Jealous of all the world: suspects, and starts, And looks behinde him. Enter Morat, as in haste. Mor. Sir, with hazard of my life I've ventur'd To tell you, you are lost, betray'd, undone; Rouze up your courage, call up all your counsells, And thinke on all those stratagems which nature Keepes ready to encounter sudden dangers. Prince. But pray (my Lord) by whom? for what offence? Mor. Is it a time for story, when each minute Begets a thousand dangers? the gods protect you. Ex. Prince. This man was ever honest, and my friend, And I can see in his amazed looke, Something of danger; but in act, or thought, I never did that thing should make me feare it. Princesse. Nay good Sir, let not so secure a confidence Betray you to your ruine. Prince. Prethee woman Keepe to thy selfe thy feares, I cannot know That there is such a thing; I stand so strong, Inclosed with a double guard of Vertue, And Innocence, that I can looke on dangers, As he that stands upon a Rocke, Can looke on stormes, and tempests. Feare and guilt Are the same thing; and when our actions are not, Our feares are crimes. And he deserves it lesse that guilty beares A punishment, then he that guiltlesse feares. Ex. Enter Haly, and Torturers. Ha. This is the place appointed, assist me courage, This houre ends all my feares; but pause a while, Suppose I should discover to the Prince The whole conspiracie, and so retort it Upon the King; it were an handsome plot, But full of difficulties, and uncertaine; And hee's so fool'd with downe-right honesty, Hee'le ne're beleeve it; and now it is too late; The guards are set, and now I heare him comming. Enter Prince, stumbles at the entrance. Prince. 'Tis ominous, but I will on; destruction O'retakes as often those that fly, as those that boldly meet it. Ha. By your leave Prince, your father greets you. Prince. Unhand me traytors. [Haly casts a scarfe over his face.] Ha. That title is your owne, and we are sent to let you know it. Is not that the voyce of Haly that thunders in my eares. Ha. I, vertuous Prince, I come to make you exercise One vertue more: your patience. [Heat the irons quickly.] Prince. Insolent villaine, for what cause? Ha. Onely to gaze upon a while, untill your eyes are out. Prince. O villaine, shall I not see my father? To aske him what's my crime? who my accusers? Let me but try if I can wake his pitty From his Lethargicke sleepe. Ha. It must not be Sir. Prince. Shall I not see my wife, nor bid farewell To my deare children? Ha. Your pray'rs are all in vaine. Prince. Thou shalt have halfe my Empire Haly, let me but See the Tyrant, that before my eyes are lost They may dart poys'nous flashes like the Basiliske, And looke him dead: These eyes that still were open, Or to fore-see, or to prevent his dangers, Must they be closed in eternall night? Cannot his thirst of bloud be satisfied With any but his owne? And can his tyrannie Finde out no other object but his sonne? I seeke not mercy, tell him I desire To die at once, not to consume an age In lingring deathes. Ha. Our eares are charm'd: Away with him. Prince. Can ye behold (ye Gods) a wronged innocent? Or sleepes your Justice, like my fathers Mercy? Or are you blinde? as I must be. Finis Act. Tertii. Actus Quartus. Enter Ab. and Morat. Ab. I ever fear'd the Princes too much greatnesse Would make him lesse, the greatest heights are neare The greatest precipice. Mor. 'Tis in worldly accidents As in the world it selfe, where things most distant Meet one another: Thus the East, and West, Upon the Globe, a Mathematick point Onely divides; Thus happinesse, and miserie, And all extreames are still contiguous. Ab. Or, if 'twixt happinesse, and miserie, there be A distance; 'tis an Aery Vacuum, Nothing to moderate, or breake the fall. Mor. But oh this Saint-like Devill! This damned Caliph, to make the King beleeve To kill his sonne,'s religion. Ab. Poore Princes, how are they mis-led, While they, whose sacred office 'tis to bring Kings to obey their God, and men their King, By these mysterious linkes to fixe and tye Them to the foot-stoole of the Deity: Even by these men, Religion, that should be The curbe, is made the spurre to tyrannie; They with their double key of conscience binde The Subjects soules, and leave Kings unconfin'd; While their poore Vassals sacrifice their blouds T'Ambition; and to Avarice, their goods; Blinde with Devotion. They themselves esteeme Made for themselves, and all the world for them; While heavens great law, given for their guide, appeares Just, or unjust, but as it waytes on theirs: Us'd, but to give the eccho to their words, Power to their wills, and edges to their swords. To varnish all their errors, and secure The ills they act, and all the world endure. Thus by their arts Kings awe the world, while they, Religion, as their mistresse, seeme t'obey; Yet as their slave command her, while they, seeme To rise to Heaven, they make Heaven stoope to them. Mor. Nor is this all, where feign'd devotion bends The highest things, to serve the lowest ends: For if the many-headed beast hath broke, Or shaken from his necke the royall yoake, With popular rage, religion doth conspire, Flowes into that, and swells the torrent higher; Then powers first pedigree from force derives, And calls to minde the old prerogatives Of free-borne man, and with a saucy eye Searches the heart, and soule of Majestie; Then to a strict account, and censure brings The actions, errors, and the ends of Kings; Treads on authority, and sacred lawes, Yet all for God, and his pretended cause, Acting such things for him, which he in them, And which themselves in others will condemne; And thus ingag'd, nor safely can retire, Nor safely stand, but blindly bold aspire, Forcing their hopes even through despaire, to climbe To new attempts; disdaine the present time, Grow from disdaine to threats, from threats to armes, While they (though sonnes of peace) still sound th' alarm's: Thus whether Kings or people seeke extreames, Still conscience and religion are their Theams: And whatsoever change the State invades, The pulpit either forces, or perswades. Others may give the fewell, or the fire; But they the breath, that makes the flame inspire. Ab. This, and much more is true, but let not us Adde to our ills, and aggravate misfortunes, By passionate complaints, nor lose our selves, Because we have lost him; for if the Tyrant Were to a sonne so noble, so unnaturall, What will he be to us? who have appear'd Friends to that sonne. Mor. Well thought on, and in time; Farewell unhappy Prince, while we thy friends, As strangers to our Countrey, and our selves, Seeke out our safety, and expect with patience Heavens Justice. Ab. Let's rather act it, then expect it: The Princes injuries at our hands require More then our teares, and patience: His army is not yet disbanded, And onely wants a head; thither wee'le fly, And all who love the Prince, or hate the Tyrant, Will follow us. Mor. Nobly resolv'd, and either wee'le restore The Prince, or perish in the brave attempt. Yee Gods, since what we meane to execute, Is your high office (to avenge the innocent) Assist us with a fortune, equall to The justice of our action, lest the world Should thinke it selfe deluded, and mistrust That you want will, or power to be just. Ex. Enter Haly. Ha. 'Tis done, and 'twas my master-piece, to worke My safety 'twixt two dangerous extreames; Now like a skilfull sayler have I past Scylla and Charybdis, I have scap't the rocke Of steepe Ambition, and the gulfe of Jealousie, A danger lesse avoyded, 'cause lesse fear'd. Enter Mirvan. Mir. What's done my Lord? Ha. Enough I warrant you; imprison'd, and depriv'd of sight. Mir. No more? this but provokes him: can you thinke Your selfe secure, and he alive? Ha. The rest o'th' businesse will doe it selfe; He can aswell endure a prison, as a wilde Bull the net: There let him struggle, and toyle himselfe to death, And save us so much envy. Mir. But if his father should relent, such injuries Can receive no excuse or colour, but to be Transfer'd upon his Counsellors; and then The forfeiture of them redeemes his errour. Ha. We must set a marke upon his passion, And as we finde it running low, What ebbes from his, into our rage shall flow. Why, should we be more wicked Then we must needes? Mir. Nay, if you sticke at conscience, More gallant actions have beene lost, for want of being Compleatly wicked; then have beene perform'd By being exactly vertuous. 'Tis hard to be Exact in good, or excellent in ill; Our will wants power, or else our power wants skill. Exit. Enter Solyman, and Tormentors. Sol. But Gentlemen, was the King in earnest? I can scarce beleeve it. Tor. You will when you feele it. Sol. I pray have any of you felt it, to tell me what it is. Tor. No Sir, but Some of your fellow Courtiers can tell you, That use something like it, to mend their shapes, 'Twill make you so straight and slender. Sol. Slender? because I was slender in my wits, must I be drawne Slender in my waste? I'de rather grow wise, And corpulent. Tor. Come Sir, 'tis but a little stretching. Sol. No, no more's hanging; and sure this will be the death of me: I remember my Grandmother died of Convulsion fits. Tor. Come Sir, prepare, prepare. Sol. I, for another world: I must repent first. Tor. Quickly then. Sol. Then first I repent that sinne of being a Courtier. And secondly, the greatest sinne one can commit in that place, the speaking of truth. Tor. Have you no more sinnes? Sol. Some few trifles more, not worth the remembring; Drinking, and whoring, and swearing, and such like: But for those let 'em passe. Tor. Have you done now? Sol. Onely some good counsell to the standers by. Tor. We thanke you for that Sir. Sol. Nay Gentlemen, mistake me not, 'Tis not that I love you, but because 'tis a thing of course For dying men. Tor. Let's have it then. Sol. First then, if any of you are fooles (as I thinke that But a needlesse question) be fooles still, and labour still In that vocation, then the worst will be but whipping, Where, but for seeming wise, the best is racking. But if you have the luck to be Court fooles, those that have Either wit or honesty, you may foole withall and spare not; But for those that want either, You'le finde it rather dangerous then otherwise; I could give you a moderne Instance or two, but let that passe: but if you happen to be State fooles, then 'tis But fooling on the right side, and all's well; then you shall at least be Wise mens fellowes, if not wise mens masters. But of all things take heed of giving any man good counsell, You see what I have got by it; and yet like a foole, must I be doing on't againe. Tor. Is this all. Sol. All, but a little in my owne behalfe. Remember, Gentlemen, I am at my full growth, and my joynts are knit; and yet My sinewes are not Cables. Tor. Well, wee'le remember't. Sol. But stay Gentlemen, what thinke you of a bottle now? Tor. I hope you are more serious. Sol. If you but knew how dry a thing this sorrow is, Especially meeting with my constitution; which is As thirsty as any serving-mans. Tor. Let him have it, it may be 'twill make him confesse. Sol. Yes, I shall, I shall lay before you all that's within me, And with most fluent utterance. Here's to you all Gentlemen, and let him that's good Natur'd in his drinke, pledge me. [Drinkes] So, me-thinkes I feele it in my joynts already, It makes 'em supple. [Drinkes againe.] Now I feele it in my braines, it makes 'em swimme, As if the racke would be a shipwracke. Tor. You are witty Sir. Sol. This is nothing but a poore clinch, I have A thousand of 'em, (a trick I learn't amongst the Statesmen.) [Drinks again.] Tor. Hold Sir, you have no measure of your selfe. Sol. What doe you talke of measure, you'le take Measure of me with a vengeance. Well racke, I defie thee, doe thy worst, I would thou wert Man, Gyant, or Monster. Gentlemen, now if I happen to fall asleepe Upon this Engine, pray wake me not too suddenly; You see here's good store of wine, and if it be Over-rackt, 'twill come up with lees and all: There I was with you againe, and now I am for you. Exeunt. Enter Prince, being blinde, solus. Prince. Nature, How didst thou mocke mankinde to make him free, And yet to make him feare; or when he lost That freedome, why did he not lose his feare? That feare of feares, the feare of what we know not, While yet we know it is in vaine to feare it: Death, and what followes death, 'twas that that stamp't A terrour on the brow of Kings; that gave Fortune her deity, and Jove his thunder. Banish but feare of death, those Gyant names Of Majestie, Power, Empire, finding nothing To be their object, will be nothing too: Then he dares yet be free that dares to die, May laugh at the grim face of law and scorne, The cruell wrinkle of a Tyrants brow; But yet to die so tamely, O'recome by passion and misfortune, And still unconquer'd by my foes, sounds ill, Below the temper of my spirit; Yet to embrace a life so poore, so wretched, So full of deaths, argues a greater dulnesse; But I am dead already, nor can suffer More in the other world. For what is Hell But a long sleeplesse night? and what's their torment, But to compare past joyes with present sorrowes. And what can death deprive me of? the sight Of day, of children, friends, and hope of Empire; And whatsoever others lose in death, In life I am depriv'd of, then I will live Onely to die reveng'd: nor will I goe Downe to the shades alone. Prompt me some wittie, some revengefull Devill, His Devill that could make a bloudy feast Of his owne sonne, and call the gods his guests. Her's that could kill her aged Sire, and cast Her brothers scatter'd limbs to Wolves and Vultures. Or his that slew his father, to enjoy His mothers bed; and greater then all those, My fathers Devill. Come mischiefe, I embrace thee, fill my soule; And thou revenge ascend, and beare the Scepter O're all my other passions; banish thence All that are coole, and tame. Know old Tyrant, My heart's to big to breake, I know thy feares Exceed my sufferings, and my revenge, Though but in hope, is much a greater pleasure Then thou canst take in punishing. Then my anger Sinke to the Center of my heart, and there Lye close in ambush, till my seeming patience Hath made the cruell Tyrant as secure, Though with as little cause, as now hee's jealous. Whose there? Enter two or three. I finde my nature would returne To her old course, I feele an inclination To some repose; welcome thou pleasing slumber; A while embrace me in thy leaden armes, And charme my carefull thoughts. Conduct me to my bed. Exit. Enter King, Haly, and Caliph. King. How doe's the Prince? how beares he his restraint? Ha. Why Sir, as all great spirits Beare great and sudden changes, with such impatience As a Numidian Lyon; when first caught, Endures the toyle that holds him. He would thinke of nothing But present death, and sought all violent meanes To compasse it. But time hath mitigated Those furious heats, he now returnes to food And sleepe, admits the conversation Of those that are about him. King. I would I had not So easily beleev'd my feares, I was too sudden, I would it were undone. Cal. If you lament it, That which now lookes like Justice, will be thought An inconsiderate rashnesse. King. But there are in nature Such strong returnes: that I punish't him I doe not grieve; but that he was my sonne. Ha. But it concernes you to beare up your passion, And make it good; for if the people know That you have cause to grieve for what is done, They'le thinke you had no cause at first to doe it. King to the Ca. Go visit him from me, and teach him patience, Since neither all his furie, nor my sorrow Can helpe what's past; tell him my severitie To him shall in some measure be requited, By my indulgence to his children. And if he desire it, Let them have accesse to him: endeavour to take off His thoughts from revenge, by telling him of Paradise, and I know not what pleasures In the other world. Cal. I shall, Sir. Exit King and Ca. Man. Ha. Enter Mirvan. Ha. Mirvan, the King relents, and now there's left No refuge but the last, he must be poysoned; And suddenly, lest he survive his father. Mir. But handsomely, lest it appeare. Ha. Appeare! To whom? you know there's none about him But such as I have plac't; and they shall say 'Twas discontent, or abstinence. Mir. But at the best 'Twill be suspected. Ha. Why, though't be knowne, Wee'le say he poysoned himselfe. Mir. But the curious will pry further Then bare report, and the old Kings suspitions Have piercing eyes. Ha. But those nature Will shortly close: you see his old disease Growes strong upon him. Mir. But if he should recover? Ha. But I have cast his nativitie, he cannot, he must not. I'th' meane time I have so besieg'd him, So block't up all the passages, and plac't So many Centinels, and Guards upon him, That no intelligence can be convey'd But by my instruments. But this businesse will require More heads and hands then ours: Goe you to the prison And bring the Keeper privately to me, To give him his instructions. Ex. severall wayes. Enter Prince and Caliph. Cal. Sir, I am commanded by the King To visite you. Prince. What, to give a period to my life? And to his feares? You're welcome; here's a throat, A heart, or any other part, ready to let In death, and receive his commands. Ca. My Lord, I am no messenger, nor minister of death, 'Tis not my function. Prince. I should know that voyce. Ca. I am the Caliph, and am come to tell you, your father Is now returned to himselfe: Nature ha's got The victory o're passion, all his rigour Is turn'd to griefe and pitty. Prince. Alas good man! I pitty him, and his infirmities; His doubts, and feares, and accidents of age, Which first provok't his crueltie. Ca. He bid me tell you, His love to yours should amply recompence His cruelty to you: And I dare say 'tis reall; For all his thoughts, his pleasures, and delights, Are fixt on Fatyma: when he is sad She comforts him; when sicke, shee's his Physitian. And were it not for the delight he takes In her, I thinke hee'de dye with sorrow. Prince. But how are his affections fixt so strangely On her alone? sure 'tis not in his nature, For then he had lov'd me, or hated her, Because she came from me. Ca. 'Tis her desert, Shee's faire beyond comparison, and witty Above her age; and beares a manly spirit Above her sexe. Prince. But may not I admire her, Is that too great a happinesse? pray let her make it Her next suit to be permitted to visit me her selfe. Ca. She shall Sir: I joy to see your minde So well compos'd, I fear'd I should have found A tempest in your soule, and came to lay it. I'le to the King, I know to him that newes will be Most acceptable. Prince. Pray doe, and tell him I have cast off all my passions, and am now A man againe; fit for societie And conversation. Ca. I will Sir. Exit. Prince. I never knew my selfe till now, how on the sudden I'me growne an excellent dissembler, to out-doe One at the first, that ha's practiz'd it all his life: So now I am my selfe againe, what is't I feele within? me thinkes some vaste designe Now takes possession of my heart, and swels My labouring thoughts above the common bounds Of humane actions, something full of horror My soule hath now decreed, my heart does beat, As if'twere forging thunderbolts for Jove, To strike the Tyrant dead: so now, I have it, I have it, 'tis a gallant mischiefe, Worthy my father, or my fathers sonne. All his delight's in Fatyma, poore innocent, But not more innocent then I, and yet My father loves thee, and that's crime enough. By this act old Tyrant I shall be quit with thee: while I was vertuous I was a stranger to thy bloud, but now Sure thou wilt love me for this horrid crime, It is so like thy owne. In this I'me sure, Although in nothing else, I am thy sonne: But when 'tis done, I leave him yet that remedie, I take my selfe Revenge, but I aswell Will rob him of his anger, as his joy, And having sent her to the shades, I'le follow her. But to returne againe, and dwell In his dire thoughts, for there's the blacker hell. Enter Messenger. Mess. Sir, your wife the Princesse is come to visit you. Prince. Conduct her in, now to my disguise againe. Enter Princesse. Princesse. Is this my Lord the Prince. Prince. That's Erythaea, Or some Angell voyc't like her. 'Tis she, my strugling soule Would faine goe out to meet and welcome her, Erythaea: No answer but in sighes (deare Erythaea.) Thou cam'st to comfort, to support my sufferings, Not to oppresse me with a greater weight, To see that my unhappinesse Involves thee too. Princesse. My Lord, in all your triumphs and your glories, You call'd me into all your joyes, and gave me An equall share, and in this depth of miserie Can I be unconcern'd, you needes must know, You needs must hope I cannot; or which is worse, You must suspect my love: for what is love But sympathie, and this I make my happinesse Since both cannot be happie, That we can both be miserable. Prince. I prithee doe not say thou lov'st me For love, or findes out equals, or makes 'em so But I am so cast downe, and fal'ne so low, I cannot rise to thee, and dare not wish Thou should'st descend to me; but call it pitty, And I will owne it then, that Kings may give To beggars, and not lessen their owne greatnesse. Princesse. Till now I thought vertue had stood above The reach of fortune; but if vertue be not, Yet love's a greater Deity; what ever fortune Can give or take, love wants not, or despises; Or by his owne omnipotence supplies: Then like a God with joy beholds The beauty of his owne creations. Thus what we forme and image to our fancies, We really possesse. Prince. But can thy imagination Delude it selfe, to fixe upon an object So lost in miseries, so old in sorrowes; Palenesse and death hang on my cheeke, and darknesse Dwells in my eyes; more chang'd from what I was In person then in fortune. Princesse. Yet still the same to me: Alas my Lord, these outward beauties are but the props and scaffolds On which we built our love, which now made perfect, Stands without those supports: nor is my flame So earthy as to need the dull materiall fuell Of eyes, or lippes, or cheekes, still to be kindled, And blowne by appetite, or else t'expire: My fires are purer, and like those of Heaven, Fed onely, and contented with themselves, Need nothing from without. Prince. But the disgrace that wayts upon misfortune, The meere reproach, the shame of being miserable, Exposes men to scorne, and base contempt, Even from their neerest friends. Princesse. Love is so farre from scorning misery, That he delights in't, and is so kindly cruell, Sometimes to wish it, that he may be alone; In stead of all, of fortunes honours, friends, which are But meere diversions from loves proper object, Which onely is it selfe. Prince. Thou hast almost Taught me to love my miseries, and forgive All my misfortunes. I'le at least forget 'em; We will receive those times, and in our memories Preserve, and still keepe fresh (like flowers in water) Those happier dayes: when at our eyes our soules Kindled their mutuall fires, their equall beames Shot and returned, till link't, and twin'd in one, They chain'd our hearts together. Princesse. And was it just, that fortune should begin Her tyrannie, where we began our loves: No, if it had, why was not I blinde too? I'me sure if weeping could have don't, I had beene. Prince. Thinke not that I am blinde, but thinke it night, A season for our loves; and which to lovers Ne're seemes too long, and thinke of all our miseries, But as some melancholy dreame which ha's awak't us, To the renewing of our joyes. Princesse. My Lord, this is a temper Worthy the old Philosophers. Prince. I but repeate that lesson Which I have learn't from thee. All this morality Thy love hath taught me. Princesse. My Lord, you wrong your vertue, T'ascribe the effect of that to any cause, Lesse noble than it selfe. Prince. And you your love, To thinke it is lesse noble, or lesse powerfull, Then any the best vertue: but I feare thy love Will wrong it selfe; so long a stay will make The jealous King suspect we have beene plotting: How doe the pledges of our former love? Our Children. Princesse. Both happy in their Grandsires love, especially The pretty Fatyma; yet she According to her apprehension, feeles A sence of your misfortunes. Prince. But let her not too much expresse it, Lest she provoke his fury. Princesse. She onely can allay it When 'tis provok't; she Playes with his rage, and gets above his anger, As you have seene a little boat To mount and dance upon the wave, that threatens To overwhelme it. Prince. To threaten is to save, but his anger Strikes us like thunder, where the blow out-flies The loud report, and even prevents mens feares. Princesse. But then like thunder It rends a Cedar, or an Oake, or findes Some strong resisting matter; women and children Are not Subjects worthy a Princes anger. Prince. Whatsoever Is worthy of their love, is worth their anger. Princesse. Love's a more naturall motion, they are angry As Princes, but love as men. Prince. Once more I begge, Make not thy love thy danger. Princesse. My Lord, I see with what unwillingnesse You lay upon me this command, and through your fares Discerne your love, and therefore must obey you. Exit. Prince. Farewell my dearest Erythaea, There's a strange musicke in her voyce, the storie Of Orpheus, which appeares so bold a fiction, Was prophecy'd of thee; thy voyce ha's tam'd The Tygres and the Lyons of my soule. Enter Messenger. Mes. Sir your daughter Fatyma. Prince. Conduct her in, how strangely am I tempted With opportunity, which like a sudden gust Hath swell'd my calmer thoughts into a tempest: Accursed opportunitie, The midwife and the bawde to all our vices, That work'st our thoughts into desires, desires To resolutions; those being ripe, and quickned, Thou giv'st 'em birth, and bring'st 'em forth to action. Enter Fat. and Moss. Prince. Leave us O opportunitie, That when my dire and bloudy resolutions, Like sicke and froward children Were rock't asleepe by reason, or religion; Thou like a violent noyse cam'st rushing in, And mak'st 'em wake and start to new unquietnesse. Come hither prettie Fatyma, Thy Grandsires darling, sit upon my knee: He loves thee dearely. Fat. I father, for your sake. Prince. And for his sake I shall requite it. O vertue, vertue, Where art thou fled? thou wert my reasons friend, But that like a deposed Prince ha's yeelded His Scepter to his base usurping vassalls; And like a traytor to himselfe, takes pleasure In serving them. Fat. But father I desir'd him that you might have liberty, and that He would give you your eyes againe. Prince. Prettie Innocent, 'Tis not i'th' art, nor power of man to doe it. Fat. Must you never see againe then father? Prince. No, not without a miracle. Fat. Why father, I can see with one eye, pray take one Of mine. Prince. I would her innocent prate could overcome me: O what a conflict doe I feele! how am I Tost like a ship 'twixt two encountring tydes; Love that was banisht hence, would faine returne And force an entrance, but revenge (That's now the Porter of my soule) is deafe, Deafe as the Adder, and as full of poyson. Mighty revenge! that single can'st o'rethrow All those joynt powers, which nature, vertue, honour, Can raise against thee. Fat. What doe you seeke for, your handkerchiefe? pray use mine, To drinke the bloudy moysture from your eyes; I'le shew't my Grandfather, I know 'twill make him weepe. Why doe you shake father? Just so my Grandsire trembled at the instant Your sight was ta'ne away. Prince. And upon the like occasion. Fat. O father, what meanes the naked knife? Prince. 'Tis to requite thy Grandsires love. Prepare To meet thy death. Fat. O, 'tis I, 'tis I, Your daughter Fatyma. Prince. I therefore doe it. Fat. Alas, was this the blessing my mother sent me to receive? Prince. Thy mother? Erythaea? there's something in that That shakes my resolution. Poore Erythaea, how wretched shall I make thee, To rob thee of a husband and a childe? But which is worse, that first I fool'd and wonne thee To a beleefe that all was well; and yet Shall I forbeare a crime for love of thee, And not for love of vertue? But what's vertue? A meere imaginary sound, a thing Of speculation; which to my darke soule, Depriv'd of reason, is as indiscernable As colours to my body, wanting sight. Then being left to sence, I must be guided By something that my sence grasps and takes hold of; On then my love, and feare not to encounter That Gyant, my revenge (alas poore Fatyma) My father loves thee, so doe's Erythaea: Whether shall I by justly plaguing Him whom I hate, be more unjustly cruell To her I love? or being kinde to her, Be cruell to my selfe, and leave unsatisfied My anger and revenge? but Love, thou art The nobler passion, and to thee I sacrifice All my ungentle thoughts. Fatyma forgive me, And seale it with a kisse? What is't I feele? The spirit of revenge re-inforcing New Arguments flie Fatyma Fly while thou may'st, nor tempt me to new mischiefe, By giving meanes to act it; to this ill My will leades not my power, but power my will. Ex. Fat. O what a tempest have I scap't, thankes to Heaven, And Erythaea's love. No: 'twas a poore, a low revenge, unworthy My vertues, or my injuries, and As now my fame, so then my infamie, Would blot out his, And I instead of his Empire, Shall onely be the heire of all his curses. No: I'le be still my selfe, and carry with me My innocence to th'other world, and leave My fame to this: 'twill be a brave revenge To raise my minde to a constancy, so high, That may looke downe upon his threats, my patience Shall mocke his furie; nor shall he be so happy To make me miserable, and my sufferings shall Erect a prouder Trophie to my name, Then all my prosperous actions: Every Pilot Can steere the ship in calmes, but he performes The skilfull part, can manage it in stormes. Finis Act. Quarti. Actus Quintus. Enter Prince. Prince. If happinesse be a substantiall good, Not fram'd of accidents, nor subject to 'em, I err'd to seeke it in a blinde revenge, Or thinke it lost, in losse of sight, or Empire; 'Tis something sure within us, not subjected To sence or sight, onely to be discern'd By reason my soules eye, and that still sees Clearely, and clearer for the want of these; For gazing through these windowes of the body, It met such severall, such distracting objects, But now confin'd within it selfe, it sees A strange, and unknowne world, and there discovers Torrents of Anger, Mountaines of Ambition; Gulfes of Desire, and Towers of Hope, huge Gyants, Monsters, and savage Beasts, to vanquish these Will be a braver conquest, then the old Or the new world. O happinesse of blindnesse, now no beauty Inflames my lust, no others good my envie, Or miserie my pittie: no mans wealth Drawes my respect, nor poverty my scorne, Yet still I see enough. Man to himselfe Is a large prospect, rays'd above the levell Of his low creeping thoughts; if then I have A world within my selfe, that world shall be My Empire; there I'le raigne, commanding freely, And willingly obey'd, secure from feare Of forraigne forces, or domestick treasons, And hold a Monarchie more free, more absolute Than in my fathers seat; and looking downe With scorne or pity, on the slipperie state Of Kings, will tread upon the necke of fate. Exit. Enter Bashawes disguis'd, with Haly. 1. Bash. Sir, 'tis of neare concernement, and imports No lesse than the Kings life, and honour. Ha. May not I know it. Bash. You may Sir. But in his presence we are sworne T'impart it first to him. Ha. Our Persian state descends not To enterviewes with strangers: But from whence Comes this discovery, or you that bring it? 2. Bash. We are Sir of Natolia. Ha. Natolia? heard you nothing Of two Villaines that lately fled from hence? 1. Bash. The Bashawes Sir. Ha. The same. 2. Bash. They are nearer than you thinke for. Ha. Where? 1. Bash. In Persia. Ha. In armes againe to 'tempt another slavery? No Sir, they made some weake attempts, presuming on The reputation of their former greatnesse: But having lost their fame and fortunes, 'Tis no wonder they lost their friends, now hopelesse and forlorn They are return'd, and somewhere live obscurely, To expect a change in Persia; nor wil't be hard To finde 'em. Ha. Doe't, and name your owne rewards. 2. Bash. We dare doe nothing till we have seene the King, And then you shall command us. Ha. Well, though 'tis not usuall, Ye shall have free accesse. Exit. Haly. Enter King, and Haly. 1. Bash. Sir, there were two Turkish prisoners lately fled From hence for a suppos'd conspiracie Betweene the Prince and them. King. Where are the villaines? 1 Bash. This is the villaine, Sir; They pull off their disguises. And we the wrongfully accus'd, you gave life, Sir, And we took it As a free noble gift; but when we heard 'Twas valu'd at the price of your Sons honour, We came to give it back, as a poore trifle, Priz'd at a rate too high. King. Haly, I cannot think my favours plac'd so ill, To be so ill requited, yet their confidence Has something in't that looks like innocence. Ha. aside, Is't come to that? Then to my last and surest refuge. King. Sure if the guilt were theirs, they could not charge thee With such a gallant boldnesse; If 'twere thine, Thou could not heare't with such a silent scorne, I am amaz'd. Ha. Sir, perplex your thoughts no further, They have truth to make 'em bold, And I have power to scorne it: 'twas I, Sir, That betray'd him, and you, and them. King. Is this impudence, or madnesse? Ha. Neither; A verie sober, and sad truth—to you, Sir. King. A Guard there. Enter Mirvan, and others. King. Seize him. Ha. Seize them; now Though 'tis too late to learne, yet know 'Gainst you are King again, what 'tis to let your Subjects Dispose all offices of trust and power: The beast obeyes his keeper, and looks up, Not to his masters, but his feeders hand; And when you gave me power to dispense And make your favours mine, in the same houre You made your selfe my shadow: and 'twas my curtesie To let you live, and reigne so long. King. Without there? Enter two or three, and joyne with the others. What, none but Traytours? Has this villaine Breath'd treason into all, and with that breath, Like a contagious vapour, blasted loyaltie? Sure hell it selfe has sent forth all her Furies, T'inhabit and possesse this place. Ha. Sir, passions without power, Like seas against a rock, but lose their furie: Mirvan, Take these villaines, and see 'em strangled. 1 Bash. Farewell, Sir, commend us to your son, let him know, That since we cannot dye his servants, Wee'll dye his Martyrs. King. Farewell, unhappie friends, A long farewell, and may you find rewards Great as your innocence, or which is more, Great as your wrongs. 2 Bash. Come, thou art troubled, Thou dost not feare to dye? 1 Bash. No: but to lose my death, To sell my life so cheap, while this proud villaine That takes it must survive. 2 Bash. We shall not lose our deaths, If Heaven can heare the cries of guiltlesse bloud, Which sure it must; for I have heard th' are loud ones: Vengeance shall overtake thee. Ha. Away with 'em. King. Stay, Haly, they are innocent; yet life, when 'tis thy gift; Is worse than death, I disdaine to ask it. 1 Bash. And we to take it. Ha. Do not ask it, Sir, For them to whom you owe your ruine, they have undone you, Had not they told you this, you had liv'd secure, And happie in your ignorance; but this injurie, Since 'tis not in your nature to forgive it, I must not leave it in your power to punish it. King. Heaven, though from thee I have deserv'd this plague, Be thou my Judge and witnesse, from this villaine 'Tis vndeserv'd. Had I but felt your vengeance from some hand That first had suffer'd mine, it had been justice: But have you sent this sad returne of all My love, my trust, my favours? Ha. Sir, there's a great resemblance Between your favours, and my injuries; Those are too great to be requited, these Too great to be forgiven: and therefore 'Tis but in vaine to mention either. King. Mirza, Mirza, How art thou lost by my deceiv'd credulitie? I'le beg thy pardon. Ha. Stay, Sir, not without my leave: Go some of you, and let the people know The King keeps state, and will not come in publike: If any great affaires, or State addresses, Bring 'em to me. King. How have I taught the villaine To act my part? But oh, my son, my son, Shall I not see thee? Ha. For once you shall, Sir; But you must grant me one thing. King. Traytour, dost thou mock my miseries? What can I give, but this unhappie life? Ha. Alas, Sir, it is but that I ask, and 'tis my modestie To ask it, it being in my power to take it: When you shall see him, sir, to dye for pitie, 'Twere such a thing, 'twould so deceive the world, And make the people think you were good natur'd; 'Twill look so well in storie, and become The stage so handsomely. King. I ne're deny'd thee any thing, and shall not now Deny thee this, though I could stand upright Under the tyranny of age and fortune; Yet the sad weight of such ingratitude Will crush me into earth. Ha. Lose not your teares, but keep Your lamentations for your son, or sins; For both deserve 'em: but you must make haste, sir, Or hee'll not stay your comming. He looks upon a watch. 'Tis now about the houre the poyson Must take effect. King. Poyson'd; oh Heaven! Ha. Nay, sir, lose no time in wonder, both of us Have much to doe, if you will see your son, Here's one shall bring you to him. Exit King. Some unskilfull Pylot had shipwrackt here; But I not only against sure And likely ills have made my selfe secure: But so confirm'd, and fortifi'd my state, To set it safe above the reach of Fate. Exit Haly. Enter Prince led, servants at the other doore, Princesse and Soffy. Serv. Sir, the Princesse and your son. Prince. Soffy, thou comst to wonder at Thy wretched father: why dost thou interrupt Thy happinesse, by looking on an object So miserable? Princesse. My Lord, me thinks there is not in your voyce The vigour that was wont, nor in your look The wonted cheerfulnesse; Are you well, my Lord? Prince. No: but I shall be, I feele my health a comming? Princesse. What's your disease, my Lord? Prince. Nothing, but I have ta'ne a Cordiall, Sent by the King or Haly, in requitall Of all my miseries, to make me happie: The pillars of this frame grow weak, As if the weight of many yeares oppresse 'em; My sinewes slacken, and an icie stifnesse Benums my bloud. Princesse. Alas, I feare hee's poysoned: Call all the help that Art, or Herbs, or Minerals Can minister. Prince. No, 'tis too late; And they that gave me this, are too well practiz'd In such an Art, to attempt and not performe. Prin. Yet trie my Lord, revive your thoughts, the Empire Expects you, your father's dying. Prince. So when the ship is sinking, The winds that wrackt it cease. Princesse. Will you be the scorne of fortune, To come neere a Crowne, and only neere it? Prince. I am not fortunes scorne, but she is mine, More blind than I. Princesse. O tyranny of Fate! to bring Death in one hand, and Empire in the other, Only to shew us happinesse, and then To snatch us from it. Prince. They snatch me to it; My soule is on her journey, do not now Divert, or lead her back, to lose her selfe I'th' maze, and winding labyrinths o'th' world: I prethee do not weep, thy love is that I part with most unwillingly, or otherwise I had not staid till rude necessitie Had forc'd me hence. Soffy, be not a man too soone, And when thou art, take heed of too much vertue; It was thy fathers, and his only crime, 'Twill make the King suspitious; yet ere time, By natures course, has ripened thee to man, 'Twill mellow him to dust, till then forget I was thy father, yet forget it not, My great example shall excite thy thoughts To noble actions. And you, deare Erythaea, Give not your passions vent, nor let blind furie Precipitate your thoughts, nor set 'em working, Till time shall lend 'em better meanes and instruments Than lost complaints. Where's prettie Fatyma? She must forgive my rash ungentle passion. Princesse. What do you meane, sir? Prince. I am asham'd to tell you, I prethee call her. Princesse. I will, sir, I pray try If sleep will ease your torments, and repaire Your wasted spirits. Prince. Sleep to these emptie lids Is growne a stranger, and the day and night, As undistinguisht by my sleep, as sight. O happinesse of povertie! that rests Securely on a bed of living turfe, VVhile we with waking cares and restlesse thoughts, Lye tumbling on our downe, courting the blessing Of a short minutes slumber, which the Plough-man Shakes from him, as a ransom'd slave his fetters: Call in some musike, I have heard soft aires Can charme our sences, and expell our cares. Is Erythaea gone? Serv. Yes, sir. Prince. 'Tis well: I would not have her present at my death. Enter Musike. SOmnus the humble God, that dwells In cottages and smoakie cells, Hates gilded roofs and beds of downe; And though he feares no Princes frowne, Flies from the circle of a Crowne. Come, I say, thou powerfull God, And thy Leaden charming Rod, Dipt in the Lethaean Lake, O're his wakefall temples shake, Lest he should sleep and never wake. Nature (alas) why art thou so Obliged to thy greatest foe? Sleep that is thy best repast, Yet of death it beares a taste, And both are the same thing at last. Serv. So now he sleeps, let's leave him To his repose. Enter King. King. The horrour of this place presents The horrour of my crimes, I faine would ask What I am loth to heare; but I am well prepar'd, They that are past all hope of good, are past All feare of ill: and yet if he be dead, Speak softly, or uncertainly. Phy. Sir, he sleeps, King. O that's too plaine, I know thou mean▪st his last, His long, his endlesse sleep. Phy. No, Sir, he lives; but yet I feare the sleep you speak of will be his next: For nature, like a weak and wearie traveller, Tir'd with a tedious and a rugged way, Not by desire provokt, but even betray'd By wearinesse and want of spirits, Gives up her selfe to this unwilling slumber. King. Thou hast it, Haly, 'tis indeed a sad And sober truth, though the first And only truth thou ever told'st me: And 'tis a fatall signe, when Kings heare truth, Especially when flatterers dare speake it. Prince. I thought I heard my father, does he think the poyson Too slow, and comes to see the operation? Prince awakes. Or does he think his engine dull, or honest? Lesse apt to execute, than he to bid him: He needs not, 'tis enough, it will succeed To his expectation. King. 'Tis indeed thy father, Thy wretched father; but so far from acting New cruelties, that if those already past, Acknowledg'd and repented of, can yet Receive a pardon, by those mutuall bonds Nature has seal'd between us, which though I Have cancell'd, thou hast still preserv'd inviolate; I beg thy pardon. Prince. Death in it selfe appeares Lovely and sweet, not only to be pardoned, But wisht for: had it come from any other hand, But from a father; a father, A name so full of life, of love, of pitie: Death from a fathers hand, from whom I first Receiv'd a being, 'tis a preposterous gift, An act at which inverted Nature starts, And blushes to behold her selfe so cruell. Kin. Take thou that comfort with thee, and be not deafe to truth: By all that's holy, by the dying accents Of thine, and my last breath, I never meant, I never wisht it, sorrow has so over-fraught This sinking bark, I shall not live to shew How I abhor, or how I would repent My first rash crime; but he that now Has poyson'd thee, first poyson'd me with jealousie, A foolish causelesse jealousie. Prince. Since you beleeve my innocence, I cannot but beleeve your sorrow: But does the villaine live? A just revenge Would more become the sorrowes of a King, Than womanish complaints. King. O Mirza, Mirza: I have no more the power to doe it, Than thou to see it done: My Empire, Mirza, My Empire's lost: Thy vertue was the rock On which it firmly stood, that being undermin'd, It sunk with its owne weight; the villaine whom my breath created, Now braves it in my Throne. Prince. O for an houre of life; but 'twill not be: Revenge and justice we must leave to heaven. I would say more, but death has taken in the out-works, And now assailes the fort; I feele, I feele him Gnawing my heart-strings: farewell, and yet I would. Dies. King. O stay, stay but a while, and take me with thee; Come Death, let me embrace thee, thou that wert The worst of all my feares, art now the best Of all my hopes. But Fate, why hast thou added This curse to all the rest? the love of life, We love it, and yet hate it; death we loath, And still desire; flye to it, and yet feare it. Enter Princesse and Soffy. Princesse. Hee's gone, hee's gone for ever: O that the poyson had mistaken his, And met this hated life; but cruell Fate Envied so great a happinesse: Fate that still Flies from the wretched, and pursues the blest. Yee Heavens! But why should I complaine to them That heare me not, or bow to those that hate me? Why should your curses so out-weigh your blessings? They come but single, and long expectation Takes from their value: but these fall upon us Double and sudden. Sees the King. Yet more of horrour, then farewell my teares, And my just anger be no more confin'd To vaine complaints, or selfe-devouring silence; But break, break forth upon him like a deluge, And the great spirit of my injur'd Lord Possesse me, and inspire me with a rage Great as thy wrongs, and let me call together All my soules powers, to throw a curse upon him Black as his crimes. King. O spare your anger, 'tis lost; For he whom thou accused has already Condemn'd himselfe, and is as miserable As thou canst think, or wish him; spit upon me, Cast all reproaches on me, womans wit Or malice can invent, I'le thank thee for them; What e're can give me a more lively sence Of my owne crimes, that so I may repent 'em. Princesse. O cruell Tyrant! couldst thou be so barbarous To a son as noble, as thy selfe art vile? That knew no other crime, but too much vertue; Nor could deserve so great a punishment For any fault, but that he was thy son? Now not content to exceed all other Tyrants. Exceed'st thy selfe: first, robbing him of sight, Then seeming by a fain'd and forc'd repentance, To expiate that crime, didst win him to A false securitie, and now by poyson Hast robb'd him of his life. King. Were but my soule as pure From other guilts as that, Heaven did not hold One more immaculate. Yet what I have done, He dying did forgive me, and hadst thou been present, Thou wouldst have done the same: for thou art happie, Compar'd to me; I am not only miserable, But wicked too; thy miseries may find Pitie, and help from others; but mine make me The scorne, and the reproach of all the world; Thou, like unhappie Merchants, whose adventures Are dasht on rocks, or swallowed up in stormes, Ow'st all thy losses to the Fates: but I, Like wastfull Prodigals, have cast away My happinesse, and with it all mens pitie: Thou seest how weak and wretched guilt can make, Even Kings themselves, when a weak womans anger Can master mine. Princesse. And your sorrow As much o recomes my anger, and turns into melting pitie. King. Pitie not me, nor yet deplore your husband; But seek the safetie of your son, his innocence Will be too weak a guard, when nor my greatnesse, Nor yet his fathers vertues could protect us. Go on my boy, the just revenge of all To Soffy. Our wrongs I recommend to thee and Heaven; I feele my weaknesse growing strong upon me: Exeunt. Death, thou art he that wilt not flatter Princes, That stoops not to authoritie, nor gives A specious name to tyrannie; but shewes Our actions in their owne deformed likenesse. Now all those cruelties which I have acted, To make me great, or glorious, or secure, Look like the hated crimes of other men. Enter Physician. King. O save, save me, who are those that stand, And seeme to threaten me? Phy. There's no body, 'tis nothing, But some fearfull dreame. King. Yes, that's my brothers ghost, whose birth-right stood 'Twixt me and Empire, like a spredding Cedar That growes to hinder some delightfull prospect, Him I cut downe. Next my old fathers ghost, whom I impatient To have my hopes delay'd, hastned by violence before his fatall day; Then my enraged son, who seemes to beckon, And hale me to him, I come, I come, yee Ghosts, The greatest of you all; but sure one hell's Too little to containe me, and too narrow For all my crimes. Dies. Enter Mirvan and Haly at severall doores. Ha. Goe muster all the Citie-Bands, pretend it To prevent sudden tumults, But indeed to settle the succession. Mir. My Lord, you are too sudden, you'll take 'em unprepar'd; Alas, you know their consciences are tender. Scandall and scruple must be first remov'd, They must be pray'd, and preach'd into a tumult: But for the succession, Let us agree on that, there's Calamah The eldest son by the Arabian Lady, A gallant youth. Ha. I, too gallant, his proud spirit will disdaine To owe his greatnesse to anothers gift; Such gifts as Crownes, transcending all requitall, Turne injuries. No, Mirvan; he must be dull and stupid, lest he know Wherefore we made him King. Mir. But he must be good natur'd, tractable, And one that will be govern'd. Ha. And have so much wit to know whom hee's beholding to. Mir. But why, my Lord, should you look further than your selfe? Ha. I have had some such thoughts; but I consider The Persian State will not endure a King So meanly borne; no, I'le rather be the same I am, In place the second, but the first in power: Solyman the son of the Georgian Lady Shall be the man: what noyse is that? Enter Messenger. Mess. My Lord, the Princes late victorious Army Is marching towards the palace, breathing nothing But furie and revenge; to them are joyn'd All whom desire of change, or discontent, Excites to new attempts, their Leaders Abdall and Morat. Ha. Abdall and Morat! Mirvan, we are lost, fallen from the top Of all our hopes, and cast away like Saylers, Who scaping seas, and rocks, and tempests, perish I'th' verie port, so are we lost i'th' sight And reach of all our wishes. Mir. How has our intelligence fail'd us so strangely? Ha. No, no, I knew they were in mutiny; But they could ne're have hurt us, Had they not come at this instant period, This point of time: had he liv'd two dayes longer, A pardon to the Captaines, and a largesse Among the Souldiers, had appeas'd their furie: Had he di'd two dayes sooner, the succession Had as we pleas'd, been setled, and secur'd By Soffy's death: Gods, that the world should turne On minutes, and on moments. Mir. My Lord, lose not your selfe In passion, but take counsell from necessitie; I'le to 'em, and will let them know▪ The Prince is dead, and that they come too late To give him libertie; for love to him Has bred their discontents: I'le tell them boldly, That they have lost their hopes. Ha. And tell them too, As they have lost their hopes o'th' one, they have lost Their feares o'th' other: tell their Leaders we desire Their counsell in the next succession, Which if it meet disturbance, Then we shall crave assistance from their power, Which Fate could not have sent in a more happie hower. Exit Mirvan. Enter Lords, Caliph. Cal. My Lord, Yee heare the newes, the Princes Army is at the gate. Ha. I, I heare it, and feele it here; Aside. But the succession, that's the point That first requires your counsell. Cal. Who should succeed, but Soffy? Ha. What, in such times as these, when such an Army Lies at our gates, to choose a child our King? You, my Lord Caliph, are better read in storie, And can discourse the fatall consequences When children raigne. Cal. My Lords, if you'll be guided By reason and example, Enter Abdall and Morat. Ha. My Lords, you come most opportunely, we were entring Into dispute about the next succession. Ab. Who dares dispute it? we have a powerfull argument Of fortie thousand strong, that shall confute him. Cal. A powerfull argument indeed. Ab. I, such a one as will puzzle all your Logick And distinctions to answer it; And since we came too late for the performance Of our intended service to the Prince, The wronged Prince, we cannot more expresse Our loyaltie to him, than in the right Of his most hopefull son. Ha. But is he not too young? Mor. Sure you think us so too; but he, and we Are old enough to look through your disguise, And under that to see his fathers enemies. A Guard there. Enter Guard. Mor. Seize him, and you that could shew reason or example. Ha. Seize me! for what? Ab. Canst thou remember such a name as Mirza, And ask for what? Ha. That name I must remember, and with horrour; But few have died for doing, What they had di'd for if they had not done: It was the Kings command, and I was onely Th'unhappie minister. Ab. I, such a minister as wind to fire, That adds an accidentall fiercenesse to Its naturall furie. Mor. If 'twere the Kings command, 'twas first thy malice Commanded that command, and then obey'd it. Ha. Nay, if you have resolv'd it, truth and reason Are weak and idle arguments; But let me pitie the unhappie instruments Of Princes wils, whose anger is our fate, And yet their love's more fatall than their hate. Ab. And how well that love hath been requited, Mirvan your Confident, By torture has confest. Mor. The storie of the King, and of the Bashawes. Ha. Mirvan, poore-spirited wretch, thou hast deceiv'd me; Nay then farewell my hopes, and next my feares. Enter Soffy. So. What horrid noyse was that of drums and Trumpets, that struck my eare? What meane these bonds? could not my Grandfires jealousie Be satisfied upon his son, but now Must seize his dearest favourite? sure my turne comes next. Ab. 'Tis come already, Sir; but to succeed him, not them: Long live King Soffy. Without drums and trumpets. So. But why are these men prisoners? Ab. Let this enforme you. So. But is my Grandsire dead? Ab. As sure as we are alive. So. Then let 'em still be prisoners, away with 'em; Invite our mother from her sad retirement, And all that suffer for my fathers love, Restraint or punishment. Enter Princesse. So. Deare mother, make Our happinesse compleat, by breaking through That cloud of sorrow, And let us not be wanting to our selves, Now th' heavens have done their part, Lest so severe and obstinate a sadnesse Tempt a new vengeance. Princesse. Sir, to comply with you I'le use a violence Upon my nature; Joy is such a forrainer, So meere a stranger to my thoughts, I know Not how to entertaine him; but sorrow Ill made by custome so habituall, 'Tis now part of my nature. So. But can no pleasure, no delight divert it? Greatnesse, or power, which women most affect, If that can doe it, rule me, and rule my Empire. Princesse. Sir, seek not to rob me of my tears, Fortune Her selfe is not so cruell; for my counsels Then may be unsuccessefull, but my prayers Shall wait on all your actions. Enter Solyman, as from the Rack. Guard. So. Alas poore Solyman, how is he altered? Sol. I know not, Sir, it an art your Grandfather had to make Me grow, I think he took me for some crooked Lady, I'm sure the engine is better for the purpose, than Steele bodies, or bolsters. So. But for what cause was all this crueltie? Sol. Why, because I would not accuse your father, when he Saw he could not stretch my conscience, thus he has Stretcht my carkasse. Mor. I think they have stretcht his wit too. Sol. This is your fathers love that lyes thus in my joynts, I might have lov'd all the pockie whores in Persia, and Have felt it lesse in my bones. So. Thy faith and honestie shall be rewarded According to thine owne desire. Sol. Friend, I pray thee tell me whereabout my knees are, I would faine kneele to thank his Majestie: Why Sir, for the present my desire is only to have A good Bone-setter, and when your Majestie has done the office Of a Bone-setter to the Body Politike, and some skilfull Man to this body of mine (which if it had been a Body Politike, had never come to this) I shall by that Time think on something according to my deserts: But must none of these great ones be hang'd for Aside. Their villanies? Mor. Yes certainly. Sol. Then I need look no further, some of their places Will serve my turne. So. Bring back those villaines. Enter Haly and Caliph. So. Now to your teares, deare Madam, and the Ghost Of my dead father, will I consecrate The first fruits of my justice: Let such honours And funerall rites, as to his birth and vertues Are due, be first performed, then all that were Actors, or Authors of so black a deed, Be sacrific'd as Victims to his ghost: First thou, my holy Devill, that couldst varnish So foule an act with the faire name of Pietie: Next thou, th'abuser of thy Princes eare. Cal. Sir, I beg your mercie. Ha. And I a speedy death, nor shall my resolution Disarme it selfe, nor condescend to parley With foolish hope. So. 'Twere crueltie to spare 'em, I am sorrie I must commence my raigne in bloud, but dutie And justice to my fathers soule exact This cruell pietie; let's study for a punishment, A feeling one, And borrow from our sorrow so much time, T'ent a torment equall to their crime. Exeunt. FINIS.