HONI SOIT Q MAL Y PENSE   
THE TRAGEDY OF MUSTAPHA.  

I.W.   
LONDON Printed for Nathaniel Butter. 1609.   

THE TRAGEDY OF MUSTAPHA.  



Solyman.  
Rossa.   Soly. 
ROssa the Eternal Wisdom doth not covet  
Of man his strength, or reason, but his Love:  
And not in vain; for love of all the powers,  
Is it which governs all things which are ours.  
I speak by Mustapha, for as a father,  
How often thought I those light judging praises  
Of multitudes, (whom my love taught to flatter)  
truths oracles, and Mustapha's true stories,  
So dear are Echoes of our own thoughts voices;  
So dearly nature bids her own beloved,  
So ill a judge is Love of her beloved.  
But let us see, if love should not be blind,  
Forgetting self-respects to foster kind:  
The praised Phoenix (never more than one)  
Burneth; 'tis true, that she her like may breed,  
But never till she feel all life is gone,  
Except the life that life hath in her seed;  
Then death, which kindness is by estimation,  
In her is but delight of Procreation.  
But be it love, man hath another guide,  
The Orb of his affection Reason is,  
But his love centre's in his private breast,  
And loving his, himself still loveth best.  
Since Mustapha will therefore die or kill;  
I gave him life, and give him death I will.  Rossa. 
Solyman my Lo: knowledge who was father  
To Mustapha, made me poor silly woman  
Think Nature could not her own nest defile:  
But now I see Imposture passion may,  
The gold of Nature's— betray  
And pardon Lo: if you were out of danger,  
And all these storms blown up, to blow me over,  
Fear first should fall, threats strike, life perish,  
Fortune about her wheel, should turn my fortune,  
Ere I would doubt the child, and know the father.  
But you Sir, now that you are brought in question,  
You, upon whom the world's well-being resteth,  
Much better were it, I were in the Centre,  
A Ghost among the dead, Air never bodied,  
Then my self-pity womanish compassion,  
My love unto the children, for the father  
Should give the children leave to kill their father;  
His fame untimely borne, strength strangely gathered,  
Honour won with honouring, Greatness with humbleness  
faultlessness with bearing faults, and want rewarding,  
Liberty seeking Love, and danger praise,  
A monarch Heir in courses popular,  
Make me divine some strange aspiring mind,  
Yet doubtful, for it may be Art or kind:  
But judge him with himself, and that by fact;  
Persia our old imbrued enemy,  
Treats marriage with the son without the father;  
A course in all Estates to Princes doubtful;  
But here much more; where he that Monarch is,  
Must (like the Sun) have no light shine but his,  
The dowry what kingdoms, and hope of kingdoms.  
What sudden knot hath bound up these designs?  
Made them that only feared our greater growing,  
Study devices for our greater growing.  
A giddy thought may change a private heart,  
But States whose loves and hearts by counsel grow,  
Whose wisdoms are, Occasion, Time and Seat,  
Have other ends then chance in all they treat:  
Yet be it all the world will us obey,  
And under ours all empire's Empire lay;  
All great Estates surfeit more oft then pine,  
Because desires still multiply with might,  
And parted power makes danger infinite.  
No, no, upon the pitch of high Attempt  
I see him stand, playing with wrong and fear,  
For Love and Duty they be captives there:  
His hopes, the hopes of all, for all aspire:  
And as Kings ruling, must use pain and law,  
So those that rise, must make the people see  
With present bondage, future liberty.  
Love therefore stand aside, and fare well Pity:  
Mustapha be clear of fault, for Kingdoms wrong  
Turns all the powers of Nature into fury,  
Mercy joys to be cruel, Truth is a tyrant,  
Love hates, Hate in revenge doth glory,  
The fall of Angels made not Heaven sorry.  
Solyman; fear is broke loose within my spirits;  
What will or may be, seems already happens:  
His power thus great, well fixed, occasion ready,  
Shadows of ruin to my heart deliver.  
Confused noise within my ears doth thunder,  
Of multitudes, that with obeying threaten.  
Solyman, fear of thee makes me wish for death,  
And fear again to leave thee, feareth death.  Solym. 
Rossa, I scorn there should because of fear  
In one man's rage: for hard then were our State,  
That reins of all the world's desire bear:  
But thy disquiet shall increase my hate;  
Thy wishes, vain to thee yet never were,  
Exempt thou art from laws of my Estate,  
For Love and Empire both alike have pleasure,  
Part of themselves upon desires to measure.  
And but that all my joys bear sorrows Image,  
My hopes resemble fear, my wit confusion,  
Nature methinks herself, becomes a Monster,  
And that even Mustapha makes all this Chaos.  
I could say I took pride in thy affection,  
For Power may be feared, Empire obeyed,  
Good fortune wooed, and followed for ambition:  
Reward makes knees to bow, makes self-love humble:  
Honour, whose throne is under PRINCE's sceptre,  
May make aspiring thoughts delight in danger;  
But Love is only that which Princes covet,  
And for they have it least, they most do love it.  
Care therefore for thyself, I hold thee dear;  
And as for me,  
Though Fortune be of glass and easily broken,  
Yet, doubt not, my Armour is, against their spite:  
And such all-daring spirits are seldom borne,  
That upon PRINCE's graves dare sow their corn.  Rossa. 
Sir, few in number are Times present children,  
Where man ends, there ends discontentment's empire,  
Novelty hath always had a fleshly dwelling.  
Then tell me Lord, what man would choose his room,  
That must expect in wickedness a mean,  
Or else be sure to find a fatal doom?  
Can that stay in the midst, whose centre's lowest?  
Old age is nature's poverty, and scorn:  
Desires riches lives in princes' children,  
Their youths are Comets, within whose corruption,  
Men prophesy new hope of better fortune.  
Bajazeth shows no man turns from a Kingdom,  
For humbleness to ask his father's blessing:  
Nature corrupted is; and wit preferreth  
The wisdom that for self-advantage erreth.  Solym. 
Wisdom is not unto herself indebted,  
That leaveth nothing but a God above her.  Rossa. 
Sir, wickedness is forced that modest is,  
He flatters that allows her not be cruel.  Solym. 
Is there return from death unto the living?  Rossa. 
No Sir, but much may hap before his death;  
Who thinking nothing worse, and nothing after  
Knows, thought of wrong is death, if Princes live,  
Where dead, all heirs their own guilt do forgive.  Solym. 
I sent, he comes, and come is in my power.  Rossa. 
Before he comes, who knows your fatal hour,  
The wicked wrestle both with power and slight,  
While Princes live, each man's life guardeth theirs,  
When they are dead, men's loves go with their fears;  
Slain by the way, lest grudge most safely were.  Solym. 
Wrong is not princely, and much less is fear.  Ross. 
Those glorious hazards tempt and hasten fate,  
They well become a man but not a State.  Solym. 
This fear in women shows a kindness too,  
And is for men to thank, but not to do.  Rossa. 
We call them great hearts, which God heartens so  
That fear shall not foresee their overthrow.  Solym. 
Those are weak hearts, that while their fears they see  
Would ruin all men, lest they ruined be,  
I do suspect, yet there is nothing done,  
I lose my fame, if so I kill my son.  Rossa. 
The Gods when they leave men to beasts a prey,  
His reason with his pride they do betray.  Solym. 
Gods meddle not where power and will agree,  
But when at once, men good and evil be,  
Though I yet know not he hath done amiss,  
I doubt; and heavy Princes doubting is,  
Though I resolve, I will not kill him there;  
It mortal is, when Kings do say they fear.   

ACTVS II. SCENA II.  

Belyarby,  
Nuntius,  
Solyman,  
Rossa.   Beliar. 
Fond man distraught with divers thoughts on foot,  
That rackest thyself, and Nature's peace dost break,  
judge not the Gods above; It doth not boot,  
Nor do thou see, that which thou dar'st not speak.  
Power hath great scope; not in the private ways  
Of truth she walks; virtues of common men  
Are not the same which shine in Kings above,  
And do make fear bring forth the fruits of love.  
Admit that Mustapha not guilty be;  
Who by his Prince will rise, his Prince must please,  
And they that please, judge with humility.  
Knowledge a burden is, obedience case,  
Who loves good name, is free to follow it,  
Who seeks Kings loves, he must their humours fit,  
When owners do resolve to overthrow,  
The stately oak for gain, or clearer sight,  
Who loves the shadow, with the fall seeks woe;  
When others gather wood, and go upright;  
Like wheels of wood; or rather like dead logs.  
With other sinews drawn, and lead about,  
Admit Kings be; yet all men see not all;  
Who rocks with chains will move, from whence they sit,  
Must spend their force to draw themselves to it.  
Yonder they are, whose charge must be discharged  
In Rossa's face; methinks desire speaketh,  
He keeps the laws, that all laws form breaketh.  Solym. 
Rossa, you now shall know fear is a coward,  
Sworn to mistrust herself, to worship power;  
Tyrant to man that should rule, and obeyeth,  
And tyrantlike betrayed, or betrayeth.  
Is Mustapha in health and coming?  Belyar. 
My Lord already come: for what can stay,  
Where love and duty both teach to obey.  Solym. 
Go rest, hereafter you shall know our pleasure.  
Rossa; our Patriarch saw the heavens open,  
And in their throne this wisdom there appeared,  
A virgin, by Eternity's hand sitting,  
In beauties of the earth and heaven clothed,  
Containing in her shape, all shapes and favours;  
And in her life, the life of living creatures,  
Still one, and never one, mortal and yet immortal:  
A Chaos both of Reason, Sense and Passion,  
Working in plants only to grow and fade,  
To pleasure others both with fruit and shade;  
In beasts both life and sense created she,  
And but desire, to no law bound they be;  
When man she made, and this same spark divine,  
Reason infused in him, that only he  
In time might divers from the Angels be.  
Then lest this sprite, free-denizened on earth  
Should of the world take pride, and so forget  
That unto us it but in lease is let:  
She doth within the body where it lives  
Place life and senses, drawn from beasts and plants,  
To war with Reason, and show what it wants.  
And if belief, the life of true Religion,  
Could not give credit to this Revelation,  
Even feeling, which gives life to good belief,  
Within myself, makes myself an example.  
Mustapha is come, and by his coming  
Hath glutted my desire, and of his coming  
Hath made me doubt, my doubts suspect my malice;  
Nature against my jealousy ariseth:  
Fear of ill doing, threatens fear of suffering:  
Worth assures greatness, greatness brings worth in question;  
Truth is( methinks) both with him and against him;  
And as for Reason, that should rule these passions,  
I find her so effeminate a power,  
As she bids kill, to save; bids save, and doubt not;  
Keeping my love and fear in equal balance,  
That I with Reason, may think Reason is  
A glass to show, not help what Reason is.  
Thus like the corn upon the weak stalk growing  
I bow my head, with every breath of wether:  
And Mustapha, that now I would have slain,  
I now resolve to give him life again.  Rossa. 
Sir, nature doth not disclaim her right in monsters,  
Which are but errors in her expectation,  
Nature with love doth steal the hearts of fathers;  
Her end is to make all her makings perfect:  
But Steel hath rust, Time change, and Nature error.  
No marvel then, though Mustapha in Nature  
Be found as well as Lucifer in Heaven.  
Let not these children's sticks gilt to the show,  
Make you forget that worms in them may grow.  
Remember, what true grounds of his Ambition,  
Made you resolve, his greatness was your danger:  
And shall self-fondness put out just suspicion?  
Conceit must not be guide of Love or Anger;  
For mischief while her head shows in the clouds,  
In Pluto's Kingdom she her body shrouds:  
Lay hands on him, your fear may work your woe,  
From wrong there is no other way to go.  Solym. 
How should I think my Son doth seek my blood?  Rossa. 
By being safe, doubt only is withstood.  Soly. 
Can Kings be safe from wrongs, that wrongs shall do?  
And wrong it is, in things not known, or done,  
For any Father to destroy his Son.  
Kings lose their Crowns that oft do love or fear,  
More than the Crowns, that they themselves do wear.  
What Kings do think, another man may do,  
another man may think, and do it too.  Solym. 
Power headlong is, king's wrath like thunder blasts  
Doth fear the world, and that it hits, it wastes;  
It cannot touch but it must overthrow.  
Where Kings do let their power rule their wit,  
Better unmade, then do a miss with it.  Rossa. 
But he that with his wit can rule his wit,  
Doth judge and measure where his power shall light.  
Thunder, because it ruins if it hit,  
The Gods themselves have power over it.  Solym. 
So, for that Kings have power of all below,  
Their wrath must not before their knowledge go.  Rossa. 
Heaven may be slow where all at once is known,  
In Man, where, till they fall, Faults may be found,  
While doubt is curious, Help is overthrown.  Solym. 
They do against themselves, that doubt and do.  Rossa. 
Who doubt against themselves, do danger woo.  Solym. 
Arguments of doubt, accused him to me;  
And Arguments of love do set him free.  Ross. 
My Lord, your doubt from arguments did rise  
Of wanton Greatness, Ambitious-seeking love:  
Good Nature is not natured to be wise,  
If doubt with cause, without cause it remove.  Solym. 
Suspicion is but only trials ground,  
Fame is like breath breathed from the inward part.  Rossa. 
Where it is death to think or to conspire,  
There Kings may kill before they do inquire.  
Where Kings but only for themselves do fear,  
Both strength and honour is it to forbear;  
I am no more, until more I do hear.  

Chorus Sacerdotum.  
O wearisome condition of humanity,  
Borne under one law, to another bound,  
Vainly be got, and yet forbidden vanity,  
Created sick, commanded to be sound:  
What meaneth Nature by these divers laws?  
Passion and Reason. self-division cause:  
It is the mark, or majesty of Power,  
To make offences that it may forgive:  
Nature herself, doth her own self deflower,  
To hate those errors she herself doth give.  
For how should man think, that he may not do,  
If Nature did not fail and punish too?  
Tyrant to others, to herself unjust,  
Only commands things difficult and hard,  
Forbids us all things, which it knows is lust,  
Makes easy pains, unpossible reward.  
If Nature did not take delight in blood,  
She would have made more easy ways to good.  
We that are bound by vows, and by promotion,  
With pomp of holy Sacrifice and rights,  
To teach belief in good and still devotion,  
To preach of heavens wonders and delights:  
Yet, when each of us, in his own heart looks,  
He finds the God there, far unlike his books.     


ACTVS II. SCENA I.  Camena alone, 
They that from youth do suck at Fortune's breast,  
And nurse their empty heart with seeking higher,  
Like dropsy fed their thirst, do never rest,  
For still begetting, they beget desire;  
And thoughts like wood, while they maintain the flame  
Of high desires, grow ashes in the same:  
But Virtue, those that can behold thy beauties,  
Those that suck from their youth the milk of goodness,  
Their minds grow strong against the storms of fortune,  
Like rocks in seas; which in the goodly weather,  
Give rest to birds, that in their courses wander,  
And in the storms stand fast, themselves unshaken,  
Though ruins oft unto desire mistaken.  
O virtue! whose thrall I think fortune,  
Thou who despisest not the sex of women  
Help, and out of the riddles of any fortune,  
Whereon( methinks) you with yourself depose me;  
Let Fate go on, sweet virtue do not lose me,  
My mother and my husband have conspired  
For brother's good the ruin of my brother,  
My father by my mother is inspired  
For one child to seek the ruin of the other.  
I that to help by nature am required,  
While I do help must needs still hurt a brother,  
While I see who conspires, I seem conspired  
Against a husband, father and a mother.  
Truth bids me run, by truth I am retired,  
Shame leads me both the one way and the other:  
With danger and dishonour I am hired  
To do against a husband and a mother:  
In what a labyrinth is honour cast,  
Drawn divers ways with Sex, with Time and State,  
In all which, errors course is infinite,  
By hope by fear, by spite, by love, by hate;  
And but one only way unto the right:  
A thorny way, where pain must be the guide,  
Danger the light, offence of power, the praise;  
Such are the golden hopes of Iron days.  
Yet, honour, I am thine, forty sake sorry,  
Since base hearts, for their base ill-placed desires,  
In shame, in danger, death and torment's glory,  
That I cannot with more pains write thy story.  
And Fortune, if thou scornest those that scorn thee;  
Shame if thou do hate those, that force thy trumpet  
To sound aloud, and yet despise thy sounding;  
Laws, if you love not those that be examples  
Of nature's laws, whence you are fallen corrupted;  
Conspire, that I against you all conspired,  
joined with tyrant virtue (as you call her.)  
That I, by your revenges may be named  
For virtue to be ruined and defamed.  
My mother oft and diversly I warned  
What fortunes were upon such courses builded,  
That Fortune still might be with child with mischief,  
Which is both borne and nourished out of mischief:  
I told her, that even as the silly Dove  
Seeled up with her own lids, to seek the light,  
Still coveteth unto the heights above,  
Till fallen, she feels, the lack was in her sight,  
So man, benighted with his own self-love,  
Still creepeth to the rude embracing night  
Of PRINCE's grace, a lease of glories let,  
Which shining, burns, breeds sirens, where it's set.  
And by this creature of my mother's making,  
This messenger, I Mustapha have warned,  
That Innocence is not enough to save  
Where good and greatness fear and envy have.  
Till now, in reverence I have forborn  
To ask, or to presume to guess or know  
My father's thoughts, whereof he might think scorn:  
For dreadful is that State; which all may do.  
Yet they that all men fear, are fearful too.  
Lo where he comes, Virtue work thou in me,  
That what thou seekest, may accomplished be.   

ACTVS II. SCENA II.  

Solyman and Camena.   Soly. 
wild death, is not thyself sufficient anguish,  
But thou must borrow fear; the threatening glass,  
Which while it goodness hides, and mischief shows;  
It lightens wit, to honours overthrow.  
But hushed, methinks away Camena steals;  
Murder belike in me herself reveals,  
Camena whither now? why haste you from me?  
Is it so strange a thing to be a father?  Cam. 
My Lord, methought; nay sure I saw you busy,  
Your child uncalled presumes, that comes to you.  Solym. 
Who may presume with fathers, but their own?  
Whom Nature's law hath ever in protection,  
And guides in good belief of dear affection,  
To make it greater, and the better known.  Cam. 
Nay, reverence children's worths do closest hide,  
As of the Father it is least espied.  Solym. 
I think, whoever know their children least  
Have greatest reason for to love them best.  Cam. 
How so my Lord? since love doth knowledge show,  
And Babes their parents by their kindness know.  Solym. 
The life we gave them, they do soon forget,  
While they think our lives do their fortunes let.  Cam. 
The Father sees his image in the son,  Soly. 
But streams back to their springs, do never run.  Cam. 
Pardon my Lord, doubt is succession's shrew,  
Let not her spite poor children overthrow;  
Though streams from springs do seem to run away,  
'Tis Nature leads them to their mother Sea.  Sol. 
Doth nature teach us by the Father's death  
To seek his throne, by whom we have our breath?  Cam. 
Things easy, to desire, do seem impossible.  
Why should fear make impossibles seem easy?  Solym. 
Monsters yet be, and being are believed.  Cam. 
Monsters not seen, are monstrously believed.  
Pardon me Sir, if duty do seem angry;  
I am your child; these common blots of children,  
Do reach indeed, I do not know how near me,  Solym. 
Near thee indeed, for you had both one Father.  Cam. 
My gracious Lord, if you were not my Father;  
Nature would much repine at such a stain;  
But Sir, by that you owe me as a father,  
Think well of them, wherein yourself remain;  
Borrow not jealousy of PRINCE's state,  
To warrant you, that you may children hate.  Solym. 
Mustapha is even he, that thus hath stained  
Nature with blood, and love with bloody malice;  
He thought it long, that I thus long have reigned;  
He that at once devised, that all at once should die;  
Rosten and Rossa, Zanger, thou and I.  Cam. 
Far be it off, that this should be found true,  
Can hope of all the world be thus deceived?  
Sweet Mustapha doth Nature lie in you?  
Sir, these be Greatness mists; be not deceived;  
For Kings hate in their fearful waning state,  
And easily doubt, and what they doubt, they hate.  
Then Parasites that haunt their PRINCE's Grace  
Know, depravation hath a pleasing face.  Soly. 
Camena, thy soft youth that knows not ill,  
Whose Aprill yields showers of sweet good will,  
Cannot believe the Elder, when they say,  
That good belief, is greatest state's decay:  
Wisdom was never borne before her time,  
Man's wit and nature, youth's Horizon are;  
Perchance experience unto more may climb,  
Let it suffice, that I and Rossa too,  
Are privy what your brother means to do;  Cam. 
O pardon me (dread Sir) and as a Father,  
What I shall say, speaking it of a mother,  
Know I do say it but to right a brother.  
The evil Angel of good will is fear,  
Whose many eyes whilst but itself they see,  
Each one to other forms of ruin be:  
Out of this fear she Mustapha accused,  
Unto this fear (perchance) she joins the love  
Which doth in mothers for their children move.  
Perhaps, when fear hath shown how yours must fall,  
In love she sees, how hers must rise withal.  
Sir, fear and frailty have, and may have grace,  
And our care of your good may not be blamed,  
Care of our own in Nature hath a place,  
Passions have oft mistaken and misnamed,  
Yet God forbid, that either fear or care,  
Should ruin those that true and faithful are.  Soly. 
Is it no fault, or fault I may forgive?  
For son to seek the father should not live.  Cam. 
Is it a fault, or fault for you to know!  
My mother doubts a thing that is not so:  
O strange unhappiness of highest room,  
Which thinking opposition derogates  
From Majesty, they joy to overcome  
The truth with self-love, teaching flattery,  
How to impostume power with proud access:  
But pardon me my Lord, admit it so,  
That Mustapha in wanton youths conceit,  
Had wandered from the course he ought to go;  
Yet think what frailty is, and what the bait,  
For private men, which here below obey,  
Beholding outward pomp of Majesty,  
And unacquainted with Kings inward care,  
Like satires think the fire, as sweet as fair,  
And burn with grasping their beloved air:  
But Sir, the Gods whom Kings should imitate,  
Have placed you high, to rule, not overthrow,  
For as, not for yourselves is your estate,  
Mercy must hand in hand with power go.  
Your sword should not strike with the arm of fear,  
Which fathoms all men's imbecility.  
And mischief doth, lest it should mischief bear,  
As reason deals within with frailty,  
Which kills not passions that rebellious are,  
But adds, substracts: keep down ambitious spirits  
With hard examples: no, with truth and care;  
So must power warn, and threaten ere it light.  
A point there is, whereat each heart must stay,  
All men may covet all, few all can do;  
The worst and best, are both like heard, and care  
For flesh and blood, the means twixt heaven and hell,  
To these extremes extremely packed are.  
Martyrs few men can be, even for the good,  
As few can seal their mischief with their blood.  
The PRINCE's wisdom, and his office this,  
To see from whence, how far each one can move,  
To What, what each man's God and Devil is,  
judging and handling frailty with love:  
For ignorance begetteth cruelty,  
Misthinking each man, every thing can be;  
The best may fall, the worst that is may mend;  
You hedge in time, and do prescribe to God  
Where safety, nor amendment you intend,  
The last of all corrections, is the rod,  
And Kings that circle in themselves with death,  
Poison the air wherein they take their breath;  
Pardon my Lord, pity becomes my sex,  
And if I speak this from the common sense,  
'Tis nature's truth, it pleads her own defence.  Solym. 
If what were best for them that do offend  
Laws did inquire, the answer must be grace;  
If mercy be so large, where's justice place?  Cam. 
Where love despairs, & where God's power hath end;  
For mercy is the highest reach of wit,  
A safety unto them, that save with it;  
Borne out of God, and unto humane eyes  
Like God, not seen, till fleshly passion dies.  Solym. 
God may forgive, whose being, and whose harms  
Are far removed from reach of fleshly arms,  
But if God equals or successors had,  
Even God of safe revenges would be glad.  Cam. 
Who knows if made a Lamb, what he would be,  
Much less his flesh of heavenly counsels free.  
While he is yet alive he may be slain,  
But from the dead no flesh comes back again,  Solym. 
While he remains alive, I live in fear.  Cam. 
Though he were dead that doubt still living were.  Solym. 
None hath the power to end what he begun.  Cam. 
The same occasion follows every Son.  Solym. 
Their greatness, or their worth is not so much.  Cam. 
And shall the best be slain for being such.  Solym. 
Thy mother, and thy brother be amiss,  
I am betrayed, and one of them it is.  Cam. 
My Mother (if she errs) errs virtuously,  
And let her err, ere Mustapha should die  
Kings for their safety must not blame mistrust,  
Nor for surmise must Kings destroy the just.  Solym. 
Well dear Camena, keep this secretly,  
I will be well advised before he die.   

ACTVS II. SCENA III.  

Rossa.  
Rosten.   Rossa 
O wearisome obedience, I despise thee;  
Must I in vain be Mustapha's accuser?  
Sands shallbe numbered first, Time shallbe constant,  
The Sea shall yield his channel to the fire,  
The Earth shall bear the Heaven within his Centre,  
Eternity shall die, Nature be Idle.  
ere my delights or will shall stand in awe  
Of God or Nature, common people's law.  Roste. 
Rossa, what meaneth this unquiet motion?  
Govern your thoughts: what want you to content you  
That have the King of Kings at your devotion?  Rossa. 
Content? poor wit and poor promotion,  
The helm of PRINCE's greatness is their will,  
Say you that I have all at my devotion,  
That for my fear of Prince, and Princes ill,  
Am brought in question both of state and fame,  
Must lose my will, and cannot lose my shame?  
What night? what clouds? what shades of souls condemned?  
What darkness in the gulf of darkness?  
So dark are father's thoughts, with kindness blinded.  
What lightnings flash from clouds with child with fire?  
As thoughts possessed alike with fear and kindness:  
Mustapha long since condemned to die,  
Now lines again.  
To boast of marriage, what true ground have I?  
The streams are choked of Soliman's affection,  
Where Fortune did of old, make her election.  Rosten. 
Think not too much, for thoughts that be offended  
Are seldom with their present counsels mended.  Rossa 
From Heaven to earth I will leave nothing  
Unthought, unsought for, or not undertaken:  
Virtue, nor vice shall in themselves have nothing;  
avernus bottoms shall not be forsaken,  
Rather than my Lords love shall grow to nothing:  
Virtue is cold, not fit to be beloved,  
That with the loss of Fortune is not moved.  Rosten 
Virtue leads not herself for hope or fear,  
Unquiet rage doth misadventure fashion  
Nothing at all, it weakness is to bear;  
Passion shall multiply more cause of passion:  
Rossa, take heed, Honour is very brittle,  
And broken once, never to be repaired,  
And honour lost, mankind hath lost his fashion;  
Honour and shame are slaves to them that prosper,  Ross. 
One sign that humane worth with power is raised,  
Is, that Kings do to make their doings praised.  Rosten. 
Who forceth man, is feared, but not beloved,  
Praises of fear are tyrannous dispraises.  Rossa. 
Praises for fear do show that we are great,  
Who seek for love and may command a fear,  
Are sitter to climb up, then tarry there.  
I whom most men have thought have ruled all,  
And with my Lord, his ruin undertaken,  
Now live in this life, to behold my fall:  
Our credit with our Sovereign is our honour,  
And ere thou suffer that to have despite,  
Think innocency harm, virtue dishonour:  
Wound truth, and overthrow the state of right.  
sex's have virtues apart, States have their fashions  
The virtues of authority are passions,  
But stay; look where our messenger returneth.   

ACT. II. SCENA. IIII.  

Rossa,  
Rosten,  
Belyarby Nuntius.   Beliar. 
Rossa and Rosten while you stand debating,  
The joys are fortunes of your private fortune.  Rossa. 
Rosten make haste, go hence, and carry with thee  
My life, my fame, desire and my fortune.  
You ugly Angels of infernal Kingdom,  
You spirits resolute to dwell in darkness,  
You who have virtuously maintained your being  
In equal power, like rivals to the heavens:  
If as they say (who say it for reproach)  
You are at hand to those that on you call,  
Refusing none but such as do refuse you,  
Revenge yourselves of this false title, virtue:  
This virtue which hath seldom been assailed  
By you; but she hath still her servants failed:  
My shame, my fear, my love I offer to you,  
Let me reign while I live, in my desires,  
Or dead, live with you in eternal fires.  
Rossa, doing, not praying merit's heaven or hell:  
Mischiefs do rise, and set themselves against thee,  
Misfortune hath even now conspired thy ruin;  
Entreat no enemies, for they forgive not,  
But humble thou thyself unto the heavens.  
I fear to tell, I tremble to conceal it,  
Thy blood even with thy destiny is infected,  
I would, yet would I not, I durst reveal it.  
Fortune, unto the death is then displeased,  
When remedies do ruin her diseased.  Rost. 
Use not these parables of coward fear,  
Fear hurts less when it strikes, then when it threatens,  
If Mustapha shall live, all fear is fallen,  
Danger lighted, desire lost, hope banished;  
If Mustapha shall die, then fear from hope,  
Loss from desire, danger and pain are vanished.  Bel. 
If Mustapha shall die, his death miscarries  
Part of thy End, thy Fame, thy Friends, thy joys,  
No man to hurt his foes, his friends destroys.  Ross. 
Friends? who are they, but those that serve desire?  
My Gods, my Friends, my Father and my Mother  
Are but those steps, that help me to aspire.  
Duty and love took knowledge of no other;  
Let me and all the world with him be stain,  
I will not wish to be alive again.  
But tell what is the worst.  Bael 
Ask not in rage, rage brings itself to woe.  
Unless the wings whereon it flies be slow.  Ross. 
I charge you tell me, how I am fortune-bound,  
That if I harm him, I myself confound.  Bel. 
Camana must with him a traitor be,  
Or Mustapha for her sake must be free.  Ross. 
O cruel Fates, that do in love plant woe,  
And in delight make our despairs to grow:  
But speak, what hath she done?  Bel. 
Undone thy doing:  
Discovered unto Mustapha his danger,  
virtues sweet fame with love of mercy wooing;  
And great suspicions from these relics grow,  
That what she knows, both Son and Father know.  
I that am yours, durst not make you a stranger,  
And yet was loath with duty to offend,  
In children's faults, a mother's wisdom shows.  
loves perfect try all is in flame of anger;  
Malice to Mustapha must be forgot,  
That your beloved Camena perish not.  Rossa. 
Nay, pale Avernus I do so adore thee,  
As I lament my womb hath been so barren,  
To yield but one to offer up before thee:  
Who thinks the daughter harm, can mother stay  
From end, whereon a mother's heart is set,  
Knows not wisdom, wickedness beget:  
Boldness in malice dazzles human reason.  
Camaena thy false blood shall do me right.  Bel. 
Rossa, is rage so mad, as to imagine  
It masters heaven?  Ross. 
Is rage so mad,  
As it will stay revenge to hope for heaven?  
Where ages are but hours.  Bel. 
Is wrath so cruel?  
Are laws of love so soon forgotten?  
Is mercy dead?  Ross. 
Would you have wrath so foolish  
As it should stay until it be abused?  
Is Nature under such fond laws be gotten,  
As Love must give itself to be abused?  Bel. 
Yet by the Love of mothers to their children,  
By all the pains of travel with your children,  
Punish, but spare the life of faulty children.  
Life may amend and well deceive another,  
Death doth but cut off one, to warn another.  Ross. 
I do protest before you spirits infernal,  
That govern in your darkness uniformed,  
By all your plagues and miseries eternal,  
By all your ugly shapes, and souls transformed,  
Neither to have been made a heavenly Angel,  
Honoured alive, and after this life famous,  
Would I love of my children have disclaimed:  
But since by her my life is brought in question,  
Since she is out of daughter's duty gotten,  
My mother's tender care shall be forgotten,  
They still that have good will to kill, or perish,  
And they do err that other's error cherish;  
Camena, then since thy desires would make  
Thy mother's harm examples of thy glory,  
Since thou dost leave me for a brother's sake,  
Since thy heart feels not what makes others sorry,  
Thy triumph shall be death, thy glory shame,  
For so die they that wrong a mother's name;  
Thy treasures with thine own arts are discarded;  
I will do something not to be forgotten,  
The givers of examples are regarded.    

CHORUS.  

ACT. III. SCENA. I.  Achmatt alone. Achmat. 
Who standing in the shade of humble valley,  
Looks up and wondèrs at the height of hills,  
When he with toil of weary limbs ascends,  
And feels his spirits melt with Phoebus glaies,  
Or sinews stark with AEolus bitter breathing.  
Or thunder blasts, which coming from the sky,  
Do fall most heavy on the places high:  
Then knows (though further seen, and further seeing,)  
They multiply in woes that add in glories,  
Who weary is of nature's quiet valleys,  
A mean estate with chaste and poor desires,  
Whose virtue longs for knees (bliss for opinion)  
Who judgeth pleasure, paradise in purple,  
Let him seem no governor of Castle,  
No, pity princes choice, whose weak dominions,  
Make weak unnoble counsels to be currant;  
But bassa unto Solyman, whose sceptre,  
Nay servants have dominion over Princes,  
Under whose feet the four forgotten monarchs,  
The footstools lie of his eternal glory  
Even I thus raised: this Soliman's beloved,  
Thus carried up by fortune to be tempted,  
Must for my PRINCE's sake destroy succession,  
Or suffer ruin to preserve succession.  
O wretched state of ours wherein we live,  
Where doubt gives loves, which nature can forgive.  
Where rage of Kings, not only ruin be,  
But where their very love brings misery.  
Most happy men that know not, or else fear  
The slippery second place of honour's step,  
Which we with envy get, and danger keep:  
But Kings, whom strength of heart did first advance,  
Be sure what raised you first, keeps you above;  
Man subject made himself, it was not chance,  
Love treateth truth, and Ll. rule the world with fear & love,  
justice not kindness reverence doth enhance,  
For subjects to yourselves when you descend,  
To dote on subjects Majesty hath end.  
Here as in weakness, flattery prints her heart,  
And private spite dare use a PRINCE's hand,  
He error enters, truth and right depart,  
And Princes scorn the news from hand to hand.  
As Rossa prints herself in our Lords love,  
And with her mischief doth his malice move:  
First of herself she durst send Rosten forth  
To murder Solyman his dearest son,  
He found him only guarded with his worth,  
Suspecting nothing and yet nothing done.  
Rosten is now returned; for wicked fear  
Did even make him wickedness for bear.  
A Beliarby dispatched, is sent to call him hither,  
With colour of a war against the Persian,  
Indeed to suffer force of tyranny,  
From his enforced Father's jealousy.  
Who utters this is to his Prince a traitor,  
Who keeps this guilty is, his life is ruth,  
And dying lives, ever denying truth.  
Thus hath the fancy-law of Kings ordained,  
That who betrays them most; is most esteemed,  
Who saith they are betrayed is traitor deemed.  
I sworn am to my king, and to his humour,  
His humour? No; which they that follow most  
Wade in the sea wherein themselves are lost.  
But Acmat, stay; who wrists his PRINCE's mind  
Presents his faith upon the stage of chance,  
Where virtue to the world, fortune unknown  
Is oft misjudged, because she is overthrown.  
Nay Acmat stay not; who truth environs  
With circumstance of man's failing wit,  
For fear, for love, for hope, for malice erreth,  
Nature to Nature's bankrupts he engageth.  
And while none dare show kings they go amiss,  
Even base obedience their corruption is:  
Then fear, dwell with thee I ll, Truth is assured,  
Opinion be, and reign with princes' Fortunes;  
Policy go peer the faults of mortal kingdoms:  
Death, threaten them that doubt to die for ever.  
I first am nature's subject, than my Princes,  
I will not serve to innocency's ruin.  
Whose heaven is earth, let them believe in princes,  
My God is not the God of subtle murder,  
Solyman shall know the worst; I look no further.   

Act. 3. Scaen. 2.  Enter Solyman and Acmat. Soly. 
Acmat, foolish natural affection  
Openeth too late the wisdom of my fathers,  
Who only in their deaths decreed succession:  
If Mustapha had never been entitled  
In my life, to the hope of my estate;  
My life, more than my death had him availed,  
Example might have been persuasion,  
That high desires are borne out of occasion:  
But kindness with her own kind folly beaten,  
Like crooked sticks made straight with over-bending,  
What she hath struck too much must over-threaten,  
Hath king's love taught king's reigning give offences?  
That long life in the best kings discontenteth,  
And false desires within false glasses showed.  
By Mustapha's example learn to know,  
Who hews above his head shall hurt his eye,  
Acmat, give order, Mustapha shall die.  Acns. 
My fortune doth me witness bear,  
That my hopes need not stand upon succession,  
Where hopes want all but only woe and fear,  
Than Lord doubt not my faith though I withstand,  
The fearful counsel which you have in hand.  
Sir I confess, where one man ruleth all,  
There fear and care, are secret keys of wit,  
Where all may rise and one may only fall,  
Their thoughts aspires, and power must master it.  
For worlds repine at those whom birth or chance  
Above all men, and but a man advance,  
I know where easy hopes, do nurse desire,  
The dead men only of the wise are trusted,  
And though crooked fear do seldom rightly measure  
As thinking all things, but itself dissembled,  
Yet Solyman let fear direct kings counsels,  
But fear not destinies which do not altar.  
Nor things impossible which cannot happen,  
Fear false Stepmothers rage, woman ambition  
Whereof each age to other is a glass,  
Fear them that fear not for desire, to shame,  
And lose their faiths, to bring their wills to pass,  
Establish bassas, children for your heirs,  
Let Mustapha's hopes fail, translate his right,  
Let their ambitious thirst once glutted be,  
Straight envy dies: fear will appear no more,  
For as ill men but in felicity,  
(Where envy fears and freedom sleeps) seem good  
So heirs to crowns, tenants to misery,  
Their good is but in ill luck understood.  
But Sir put of this charm of cunning spite,  
Which makes you to yourself invisible:  
Make it not known dear Lord, by your example  
That only Envy, fury and suspicion,  
In every kind and state keep their condition;  
If Mustapha have one fault but his mother  
If else where then in her heart he be guilty,  
Let those deaf heavens which punish and forgive not,  
Let hell's most plagues unto her best beloved,  
Malice and rage, which without mischief lives not,  
Thunder torment burn ruin and destroy me,  
If Mustapha have one thought to annoy thee.  Solim. 
Malice is like the lightning of the summer,  
Which when the skies are clearest, lights and burneth,  
Her end is to do hurt and not to threaten,  
justice unjustly doth to loose occasion,  
Hazards itself, to force and to persuasion.  Acmat. 
Sir, hasty power is like the rage of thunder,  
Whose violence is seldom well bestowed:  
Danger not meant, needs not to be prevented,  
Revenge still in your power is not repented.  Solim. 
Danger already come is past preventing,  
Princes whose Sceptres must be feared of many,  
Are never safe that live in fear of any.  Acmat. 
Tyrants they are that punish out of fear.  
state's wiser than the truth decline and wear,  
Wisdom in man is but the print and doubt,  
Whose ink is either blood, secrets of states,  
Which safely walls with government about.  Solim. 
In PRINCE's dangers justice ever goes,  
Before the fact, that all else overthrows.  
Besides my bassas in whose faith I trust.  
As stays to mine estate, with one consent,  
Show my sons fault and urge me to be just,  
thyself alone, per chance with good intent  
Art cross, wisdom is not faith's Relative:  
For oftentimes faith grows for lack of wit  
And sees no peril, till he feels of it.  Acmat. 
Doubt wounds within.  
For as in kings when fear to kill hath might,  
Both wrong and danger must be infinite,  
And Sir, we bassas, whom you Monarchs please  
To hear, much further are from princely hearts  
Then ears; for favour grows the state's disease,  
When more than service it to us imparts.  
Base blood hath narrow thoughts, which set above  
Sees more of greatness than it comprehends;  
And for all is not to our partial ends,  
We fail kings with themselves, we take their might,  
And use to our revenge: make laws a snare,  
To ruin all, but instruments our friends  
Till kings even let in lease to two or three  
Are made of us the— to behold their right.  
Even fame of king's estate a misery,  
We bassas that do distribute at will;  
And for that we the best men's rising fear  
With bruit and tumour good desert we kill.  
This fashion and not Mustapha's offence,  
Hath had an ambush to entrap your love.  
But Sir awake, a king's just favourite  
Is truth.  
All broken ways not borne of faith but will.  
Do but hale danger while that multiplies.  
Where there is cause of doubt, laws do provide  
Restraint of liberty, where force of spite  
Lies in the living, dead, till it be tried.  
Where kings too oft use their prerogative  
The people do forbear, but not forgive.  
My Lord, the state delays are wisdom, where  
Time may more easy ways to safety show.  
Self murder is an ugly work of fear  
And little less is children's overthrows.  
For truth's sake spare your son, and pardon him,  
Men's wit and duty oft have diverse ways,  
Duty with truth which doth with strength agree  
Duty of honour striveth wit to please,  
Who stands alone in Counsels of estate,  
Where kings themselves even with adulse see fears,  
Stands on the headlong step of death and hate;  
For good luck envy, ill luck hazard bears;  
For fashions that affect to seem upright,  
To hide their faults must overthrow the right.  
Sir, Mustapha is yours, moreover he  
Is not, for whom you Mustapha overthrow,  
Suspicion common to successions be,  
Honour and fear ever together go.  
Who must kill all they fear, fear all they see:  
Your subjects, sons, nor neighbourhood can bear,  
So infinite the limits be of fear.  Soly. 
Acmat no more, mischance doth oft o'ershoot  
All under king's desires without all fear,  
Your bassas know, for mischief seeks the root,  
Not boughs, which but the fruit of greatness bear.  
Mercy and truth are wisdoms popular,  
And like the rain which doth in rich the ground,  
They spend the clouds of which they owned are.  
PRINCE's estates have this one misery,  
That though the men and treasons both be plain,  
They're unbelieved, while Princes are unslain.  
If thy care be of me, enough is said,  
Go wait my pleasure, which shall be obeyed.   

Acuts tertius, Scena tertia.  Enter Solyman, Beliarby nuntius. Beli. 
If you will Rossa see alive  
You must make haste.  Soly. 
Fortune, hast thou not moulds enough of sorrow,  
Must thou yet these of love and kindness borrow?  
Yet tell me, whence grew Rossa's passion?  Bel. 
When hither I from Mustapha returned,  
And had made you account of my Commission,  
Rossa, whose heart in care of your health burned,  
Curiously after Mustapha inquiring.  
A token spies, which I from hence did bear  
For Mustapha by sweet Camena wrought  
(Yet gave it not, for I began to fear,  
And something more than kindness in it thought:)  
No sooner she beheld this precious gift,  
But as enraged, hands on herself she laid  
From me as one that from herself would shift  
She runs, nor till she found Camena, stays.  
I follow and hear, both their voices high,  
The one as doing, the other as suffering pain,  
But whether your Camena live or die,  
Or dead, if she by rage or guilt be slain.  
If she made Rossa mad, or Rossa mad  
To hurt things dearest to herself be glad.  
Or where the bounds of unbound rage will stay.  
If one or both, or which is made away  
I know not, but O Solyman make haste,   

Actus tertius Scena quarta.  Enter Rossa and Solyman. Rossa. 
What am I not my own, who then dare let me  
From doing with myself what myself listeth?  
Nature hath lied: she saith, life unto many  
May be denied, but not death unto any.  
Come death, art thou afraid of me, that bear  
All wickedness, by which you caused were.  
Soliman stand from me, I am not thy Rossa:  
But one that death, the devil and hell do fly,  
Yet unto death, the devil, and hell do hie.  Soly. 
What fury is the God of this strange spirit?  
Rossa, how art thou lost, or how transformed?  
Leave it to me, or take or leave thy breath,  
And show thy fault, thy fault shall give thee death.  Rossa. 
That were to lose the benefit of death.  Solym. 
Then live.  Ross. 
That is the cruelty of death.  Soly. 
Then tell and die.  Ross. 
Nay tell and live, a worthy death  
To her that so had lost the good of death.  Solym. 
What should be council to the marriage bed,  Rossa. 
All things, unworthy of the marriage bed.  Solym. 
Yet tell me for my love, I long to know.  Rossa. 
For love, I keep what love would fear to know.  Soly. 
Ignorance is dangerous and over fears.  Ross. 
Ignorance is dangerous and cannot fear.  Soly. 
Yet tell me, I am Prince, I do command,  Ross. 
Kings long to hear, and hate what they have heard  
Good sir, let it be lawful to say nothing.  
And less of king's men can desire nothing.  Soly. 
Then live, and let this multiply thy anguish,  
That all diseases of my mind and state,  
Injuries of love, contempts and wounds of favours,  
Treachery, aspiring, death, suspicious ruin,  
Consulted are by thee to make me languish,  
Thou guidest me and my fortune unto error.  Rossa. 
O Soliman, of grace let me say nothing:  
For if I speak, thy never falling justice,  
Must force thee to take vengeance of offences.  
In odious facts, the solemn form of death,  
Melts human powers: great states to get compassion,  
For mankind when it sees man lose his breath,  
Their hearts, not unto truth, but pity, fashion.  
And death well borne shall make a wicked spirit  
Stir pity up to make the law seem might,  
Let these wild hands, to this wild heart be cruel.  
Self death, which gods abhor, is fit for treason,  
Mercy, by ill success, seems lack of reason.  Solim. 
Yet speak, for one of mischiefs plagues is shame.  Rossa. 
You Gods, that govern these star-bearing heavens,  
Whose only motion rules the moving Seas,  
And thou still changing glory of the darkness,  
Whose growing horns and ensigns, of his Empire,  
Bear witness with me, neither truth nor kindness,  
Shame, nor remorse, desire to do things honest,  
Delight of other's good, nor seat of mischief,  
Duty to God or man, but only glory,  
The badge which Evil gives, doth tell this story.  
Your daughter, in whom you and I had bliss,  
By these imbrued fingers murdered is:  Solim. 
What fault would not a mother's love forgive,  Rossa 
The fault she made was that she let me live,  
For knowing she conspired her father's death,  
By whom I hold my honour, she she breath,  
How could she think I could her crime forgive?  Sol. 
What cause had she to think so vile a thought?  
Or by whom could she think to have a wrought?  Rossa. 
Mischief itself, is cause of mischief done,  
Whom should she fear to win, when she had won  
Unto this mischief Mustapha thy son.  Solim. 
Did she confess, or who did her accuse,  Ro. 
This Guidon with her own hand, wrought and sent,  
Bears perfect record what was her intent.  Solim. 
Expound what was the meaning of this work  
Under whose are, the acts of mischief lurk,  Rossa. 
The clouds, they be the house of jealousy,  
Which fire and water both within them bears.  
Where good shows less, ills greater than they be,  
There Saturn feeds on children that be his.  
A fatal winding sheet, succession is.  
This pleasing horror of our turned delight  
Doth figure forth the Tyranny of fear,  
Where truth lies bound, and nature loseth right,  
Poor innocency, vainly spending breath  
To plead, where nothing is of trust but death  
Malice here aged lies in doubleness,  
Blowing out rumour from her narrow breast,  
To spread abroad with infinite success,  
The visions and opinions of unrest:  
Eating the hearts wherein they harboured be,  
Like worms in wood, whose holes men only see.  
These precious hills where daintiness seems waste,  
By nature's art, that all art will exceed,  
In careless fineness, shows the sweet estate,  
Of strength and prudence both together placed,  
Two intercessors reconciling hate,  
And giving fear ever of itself a taste,  
These waves that beat upon the cliffs do show,  
The cruel storms, which Envy hath below,  
This border round about in carat hath  
The mind of all: which in effect is this,  
'tis hard to know, but hard and harder too,  
When men do know, to bring their hearts to do.  Soly. 
What said she, when you showed her this work?  Ro. 
Like them which are descried, & fain would lurk:  
So while she would have made herself seem clear,  
She made her faults still more and more appear.  Soly. 
How brooked she that, the wicked only fear?  
Her death I mean, with what heart did she bear?  
The wicked hearts are placed far from their voice.  Ro. 
As when they mourn, you would think they rejoice.  
She never mourned, nor sighed, nor was afraid,  
But this unto me, ere she died, she said.  
Mother, I am your own, by mother's right  
You may cut of my life, which you did give,  
Might and a mother's name, will you acquit,  
If in your own self, you yourself forgive:  
But Mustapha, his death will be his shame  
To father, mother, and the Turkish race:  
For reverence unto a father's name,  
Hath brought him, guiltless, to this guilty case.  
He never sought, nor wished his father's death,  
And in that mind I lived, and leave my breath.  
She neither stubborn was, nor yet depressed,  
She, but for his life, never made request;  
As though his wounds, had only been her own.  
Such Lordship had false glory in her breast,  
As she took joy to have her mischief known.  
Yet had she this against mine own self done,  
myself against myself she should have won,  
Solyman take heed, despair hath bloody heels:  
Malice, wound up like clocks to watch the Sun,  
Hasting a headlong course with many wheels,  
Hath never done, until it hath undone.  
I slew my child, my child would have slain thee,  
All bloody faults, in my blood written be.  Sol. 
What hills hath nature raised above the fire?  
What state beyond them is, that will conspire?  
I swear by all the Saints, my son shall die,  
Revenge is justice and no cruelty.   

Actus tertius Scena quinta.  Enter Priest & Mustapha. Pr. 
False Mahomet, thy laws Monarchal are,  
Unjust, ambitious, full of spoil and blood,  
Having not of the best but greatest care  
To whom still thou dost sacrifice thy good.  
Must life yield up itself to be put out,  
Before this frame of nature be denied?  
Must blood the tribute be of princes doubt?  
O wretched flesh in which must be obeyed,  
God's laws, that will impossibilities:  
And princes wills, which work in cruelty,  
With faith (an art borne of false prophet's word)  
we blind ourselves, and with ourselves the rest,  
To humbleness, the sheath of tyrant's sword,  
Each, worst unto himself approving best.  
People, believe in God, we are untrue,  
Spiritual forges unto princes might;  
God doth require, what's only best for you;  
But we do preach, your bodies to the war,  
Your goods to spoil, your freedom into bands,  
(duties by which you awed of others are)  
And fear which to your harms doth lead your hands:  
Who preach, that God, who made all flesh alike,  
Bids you lay down your necks for kings to strike.  
I am the devils friend, hell's Mediator,  
truth's spite, ruins hand, and sins occasion,  
A fury unto man, a man to furies.  
Oh virtue, if thou anywhere have essence  
But in sweet Mustapha, whom I have ruined;  
And you fair-orderly-confused Planets,  
If you be more than ornaments in heaven,  
And that you work in destinies of the mortal,  
Show us, that destinies be not confused,  
Not evil to the good, good to the evil;  
Confusion is the justice of the devil.  
Save Mustapha, fate's course well changed is,  
Where constancy leads her to do amiss:  
Change or turn back your course, let Asia know,  
That earth doth hatch her own ill destiny,  
Which in aspects the stars but only show,  
Lay forth the hateful wild conspiracy,  
Wherein this tyrant means to overthrow  
His son, the hope of all humanity,  
In Mustapha with influence work so,  
As he is full: and strength at once may see,  
Whom, monster, I, have hither made to come,  
Guiltless through guilty fear to take his doom,  
Now hell and pain, if you else where be seated,  
Then— absence and my presence.  
Call me again in haste to come unto you,  
If worse I be not with myself, then with you;  Must. 
Whence grows this sudden rage, thy gesture utters,  
These agonies, and furious blasphemies;  
Is rage become the Lord of human reason?  
For rage doth show, that reason is defaced,  
When rage thus shows itself with reason graced.  Priest. 
If thou hast felt thyself, accusing war,  
Where knowledge is, the endless hell of thought,  
Where hope and fear in equal balance are,  
My state of mind is by the feeling taught:  
For what despair the conscience doth fear,  
My wounds bleed ever, for remorse they bear,  Must. 
Remorse and pride in nature opposite,  
The one makes error great, the other small,  
But rooted ill brings no remorse with it,  
judge not thyself with troubled will at all:  
But show thy hearts when passions streams, break forth  
Even woes we wondered at, prove nothing worth.  Priest. 
I have offended nature, God, and thee,  
My heart and soul, the seats of mischief be.  Musta. 
Of God, his mercy is the greatest power,  
Nature is sweet, her wounds heal up again;  
For me, tell how, and teach me to forgive,  
Which, he that cannot do, knows not to live.  Pr. 
Forgiveness is, to take away the cause,  
It forceth God to plague, or break his laws.  Musta. 
Forgiveness is, to put away the wrongs,  
At least, so much as to myself belongs.  Pr. 
It is a praise to pardon, it is true,  
But keep me rather from undoing you.  Musta. 
What should I do? tell me, I do not fear,  Pr. 
Preserve thy father with thyself and me,  
Else guilty of each other's death we be.  Musta. 
Tell how.  Pr. 
Thy father purposeth thy death,  
I did advise thou offeredst up thy breath.  Musta. 
What have I to my father done amiss?  Pr. 
That wicked Rossa thy stepmother is.  Musta. 
Wherein of Rossa, have I ill deserved?  Pr. 
In that the Empire is for thee preserved.  Musta. 
I cannot choose but be my father's son,  
As bold ambition, which like water-floods,  
Not channel-bound, doth neighbours overrun,  
And growest nothing, when thy rage is done.  
Is virtue bought and sold for love of good?  
Must Zanger's rising from my fall be won?  
Poor Zanger I acquire thee of my blood:  
For I believe thy hart-hath no impression.  
To ruin Mustapha of his possession,  
Yet tell what they against me use,  
My father's love which way first did they wound?  Pr. 
Of treason towards him they thee accuse,  
Thy fame and greatness gives their malice ground.  Musta. 
Good world, where it is danger to be good,  
Where guilty people shall live in good name,  
The guiltless only, live and die in shame:  
Show me the truth, to what laws am I bound:  Priest. 
No man commanded is by God to die,  
As long as he may persecution fly.  Must. 
To fly, were to condemn myself and friends  
To honour those, that would dishonour me:  
To ruin those, that should my succour be,  
Death do thy worst, thy longest pains have end.  
Besides, where can man hide those coward fears,  
But fears and hopes of powers will them reveal?  
For kings have many tongues and many ears.  
Mischief is like the Cockatrice's eyes;  
Sees first and kills, or is seen first and dies.  
He that himself defending, doth offend,  
Breaks not the law, nor needs not be forgiven.  
Duty doth end, when kings do go astray,  
Misguided by their own or others' will:  
For disobedience is, when it doth light  
To hurt, but duty, when used as a press,  
It sets a prince's crooked humours right.  Priest. 
Use not thy strength to shed thy father's blood,  
But use thy strength to do thy father good.  
Rossa, while she attends to ruin thee,  
Makes Soliman against his state to sin.  
Take arms against her, do thy father free,  
Translating heirs doth oft bring ruin in,  
And since even vice; by good success, seems good,  
Good fortune will make virtue understood,  Must. 
O false and wicked colours of desire.  
Eternal bondage unto him, that seeks  
To be possessed of all things that he likes.  
Shall I, a son and subject, seem to dare  
For PRINCE's sake to set the realm on fire?  
Which golden titles to rebellion are,  
It is not fear of death, which joys to die,  
They fear death, that from death to mischief fly.  
If I be killed, I do not ill, but suffer,  
It is no pain to die, for children do it,  
It is no grace to live, the wicked have it:  
Let children cry, and slaves do ill for fear,  
Death is not strange to men, why then repine we?  
Death is of force to man, to what end strive we?  
Obedience goes upright, the stubborn fall,  
God burns his rods, but we must suffer all.  
even you have told me, wealth was given  
The wicked, to corrupt themselves and others.  
Greatness and health do make flesh proud and cruel,  
Where with the good, sickness mows down desire,  
Death glorifies, misfortune humbles,  
Sorrow seeks peace of God, sin yields repentance:  
Since therefore life is but the throne of danger,  
Where sickness, pain, desire, and fear inherit,  
Soonest escaped from him, that holds it dearest,  
Even of men the least worth, the most beloved,  
A double death to them that hold it so,  
And having nothing else must it forego:  
Should I, that know the destiny of life,  
Do that, to live, that doth dishonour life?  
My innocency bids me not to fear,  
My love and duty for a father look:  
Worthiness he shows, that can misfortune bear,  
The heart doth judge of virtue, not the book:  
I know my strength and in my strength resolve,  
To do that, wicked men may think me weak,  
And now that all the world knows I might live,  
That power unto my father I freely give.  Priest. 
Wilt thou both kill thyself, and be the cause  
Thy father may offend Gods holy laws:  
The world knows cowards kill themselves for fear.  
First let thy father know lie doth thee wrong,  
They often bide death, that cannot danger bide,  
And in these duties afterwards be strong.  Must. 
Tempt me no more, good will is then a pain,  
When her words beat the heart, and cannot enter,  
I constant in my counsel do remain,  
And more lives for my life will not adventure.  
Dear Rossa do thou for my sake still live,  
By thee my father may repent my fall,  
When thy heart of my truth shall witness give:  
Stay thou, till time and destiny do call,  
Warn Acmat and Camena they advise,  
lest they like rage that doth her own self bear.  
Seeking to help, or to prevent my fall,  
Ruin themselves, while they for me entreat.  
My life in your lives I shall think preserved,  
When you know, I have worse than I deserved.  
Come let us go, for kindness doth betray,  
The heart, that firmly on itself doth stay.  

Chorus Tartarorum.  
Religion, thou vain and glorious style for weakness,  
Sprung from the deep disquiet of man's passion,  
To dissolution and despair of nature:  
The text brings princes titles into question,  
Thy prophets sat on work, the sword of Tyrants,  
They manacle sweet truth with their substractions,  
Let virtue blood, teach cruelty for God's sake,  
Fashioning one God, but him of many fashions,  
Like many headed errors in their passions:  
Mankind, trust not this dream, Religion,  
Fears, Idols, pleasures, relics, sorrows, treasures,  
She makes the wilful hearts her only pleasures,  
The rebels unto government, her martyr's temples.  
No no, thou child of miracles begotten,  
Miracles, that are but ignorance of causes.  
Lift up the hopes of thy abjected Prophets,  
Religion, worth abjures thy painted heavens,  
Sickness thy blessings are, misery thy trial,  
Nothing thy way unto eternal being,  
Death to salvation, and the grave to heaven,  
So blessed be they, so angeled, so eternised,  
That tie their senses to thy senseless glories,  
And die, to cloy the after-age with stories.  
Man should make much of life, as nature's table,  
Wherein she writ the cipher of her glory.  
Forsake not Nature, nor misunderstand her,  
Her mysteries are read without faith's eyesight,  
She speaketh in our flesh, and from our senses  
delivers down her wisdom to our reason,  
If any man would break her laws, to kill,  
Nature doth for defence allow offence.  
She neither taught the father to destroy,  
Nor promised any man by dying joy.     


ACTVS. IV. SCENA. I.  

Zanger alone.  
Nourished in Courts, where no thoughts peace is nourished,  
Used to behold the Tragedy of ruin,  
Ruin, from whom all Monarchies have flourished,  
Brought up with fears, with fellow PRINCE's fortune;  
Yet am I like him that hath lost his knowledge;  
Or never heard one story, but of misfortune.  
My heart doth fall away, fearful upon me.  
Tame Rumor, that hath been mine old acquaintance,  
Is to me now like Monsters, feared and wondered,  
My love begins to plague me with suspicion,  
My first delights bear likeness of displeasure.  
My mother's promises of my advancement,  
Her doubtful speeches, her unquiet motions,  
Make me grow jealous of my own advancement.  
The name of Mustapha so often murmured,  
With whose name ever I have been rejoiced;  
Now makes my heart misgive, my spirit languish;  
Man then is Augur of his own misfortune,  
When his joy yields him arguments of anguish.    

ACTVS IV. SCENA II.  

Acmat.  
Zanger.   Acm. 
O Kings, why swell you so against your maker?  
Is raised equality so soon grown wild?  
Dare you deprive your people of succession,  
Which kings and kingdoms on their heads did build?  
Is fortune of forgetfulness with child?  
Have fear or love, in greatness no impression,  
Since people, who did raise you to the crown,  
Are ladders, standing still to let you down?  
O wretched state of man, in tyrant's favour,  
Like men thrown upon sands in ebbing water:  
Dead if they trust, and stay drowned if they venture:  Zan. 
Acmat, what strange events breed these strange passions?  Acm. 
Nature is ruined, humanity fallen asunder,  
Our Alchoran profaned, Empire defaced,  
Hell's broken loose, truth dead, hope banished,  
Dark fear and sorrow, do both strike and threaten:  
My heart is full my voice doth saint and tremble.  Zang. 
Yet tell the worst, for coward's death unarmeth,  
When need resolves us to endure all terror:  
And sorrows utter are like wines, which vented;  
Both purge themselves, and do not break the vessel;  
By counsel and comparison things lessen.  Acm. 
No counsel or comparison can lessen  
The loss of Mustapha, so vildly murdered.  Zan. 
How? dead? what chance or malice hath prevented  
mankind's good fortune?  Acm. 
Father's unkindly malice.  Zan. 
Tell how.  Acm. 
When Solyman by Rosten's cunning spite  
And Rossa's witchcraft, from his heart had banished  
justice of Kings, and lovingness of fathers,  
To wage and lodge such camps of heavy passions,  
As cunning stepdame's jealousy could gather;  
Envy took hold of worth, doubt did misconstrue,  
Renown was made a lie, and yet a terror;  
Nothing could rage remove, or move compassion;  
Mustapha must die; to which end fetched he was,  
Laden with hopes and promises of favour:  
But Mustapha neither hoped nor feared,  
Per chance, foresaw the storms of danger coming;  
Yet comes, and comes accompanied with power;  
But neither power that warranted his haste,  
Nor self-defence, that makes offences lawful,  
Could hold him from obedience to his father.  
So foolish to the world is honest Wisdom.  Zang. 
Alas, could neither truth appease his fury,  
Nor his unlooked humility of coming,  
Nor any secret witnessing remorses?  
Can Nature from herself work such divorces?  
Tell on, that all the world may rue and wonder.  Acm. 
There is a place environed with trees,  
Upon whose shadowed centre, there is pitched  
A large embroidered sumptuous Pavilion,  
The stately throne of tyranny and murder;  
Where mighty men (whom fearful murder fears)  
With cruelty are slain before they know  
That they to other than to honour go;  
Mustapha unto the Camp no sooner came,  
But thither he is sent for, and conducted  
By six slow Eunuchs, either taught to colour  
Mischief with revenge, or taught by nature  
To reverence even virtue in misfortune,  
But Mustapha, whose heart was now resolved,  
Not fearing death, which he might have prevented,  
If he to disobedience had consented:  
Nor craving life, which he might well have gotten,  
If he would other duties have forgotten;  
But glad to speak his last thought to his father,  
He willed the Eunuchs to entreat it for him;  
They did, they wept, and kneeled unto his father:  
But bloody rage, that glories to be cruel,  
And jealousy, that fears she is not fearful,  
Made Solyman refuse to hear or pity.  
He bids them haste their charge; and bloody eyed,  
Beheld his son while he obeying died.  Zang. 
How did that dying heart endure to suffer,  
Tell on:  
Quicken my spirits, hard and dull to good,  
That yet— hear tell of brother's blood.  Acm. 
While these six Eunuchs to this charge appointed,  
Whose hearts had never used their hands to pity,  
Whose hands were only now afraid of murder,  
With reverence and fear stood still amazed,  
Loath to cut off such worth, afraid to save it:  
Mustapha with thought resolved and united,  
Assures their fear, and comforteth their sorrow:  
Bids them refuse their charge, and look no further;  
Their hearts afraid to bid their hands, be doing,  
Shaking and trembling, do refuse to offer,  
The cord, the hateful instrument of murder:  
They lifting up, let fall, and falling, lift it;  
Each sought to help, and helping, hindered other,  
Till Mustapha in haste to be an Angel,  
Guided their hands, to his death directed:  
Sweetly forgave their charge, and thank their love,  
Which he saw in them, did compassion move;  
With heavenly smiles, and quiet words, foreshowing  
The joy and peace of those where he was going.  
His last words were: O father now forgive me  
Those things, which thou thyself dost think offences:  
O Mahomet my other sins forgive me,  
Forgive them too, that work my overthrow:  
Let my grave never minister offence,  
For since my father joyeth in my death,  
Behold, with joy I offer him my breath.  
The eunuchs cry, Solyman, he is glutted:  
His thoughts divine of vengeance for his murder:  
Rumor flies up and down, the people murmur;  
Sorrow gives laws, before men know her story,  
Fear prophecies in men, and makes them sorry.  Zang. 
Remiss and languish are men's coward spirits,  
Where Gods forbid revenge and patience too;  
Yet to the dead, Nature ordaineth rites,  
Which idle love I feel hath power to do.  
I will go hence, and show to them that live,  
The Gods cannot offences all forgive.   

ACTVS IV. SCENA III.  

Acm.  
Rossa.  
Rosten.   Acm. 
whatever craft of base falsehearted wit,  
Long working on the worst of PRINCE's thoughts,  
May bring to pass, yonder to us is brought,  
— without shame the state corrupt with it.  Rossa. 
Acmat, thy sorrow, whether unjust or just,  
Boots not: duty and faith loves still them that live,  
Noble example bring forth danger must,  
The forces of Natolia do give  
Tokens of mutiny unto the state,  
Showing no reverence but unto thee:  
Wherefore the great Lord wils you to repair  
To him, for by you they must governed be.  Acm. 
I go, and care not, so I go from thee.  Rossa. 
Let them that cannot hear desires travail,  
Who dare not undertake for fear of danger;  
Let them take children, fearing spirits,  
Run and bear witness them, still their own amazement,  
While they fly from themselves, and blame their fortune,  
For fortune on thy wisdom complain,  
But they in thee neither hope nor reign,  
Rosten, where virtue ends, and reason fails,  
When dangers threaten; fear makes sharpest war.  
When fame with all her infamies assails,  
Than fortune's favours show'd most lively are:  
She never helps, till help be overthrown,  
For heavenly Powers by miracles are known.  
Now Mustapha is dead, rage fleshed, and pity broken,  
Rosten, there rests no more to interrupt us  
But Acmat, in whom Solyman yet trusteth;  
The thanks and sacrifices our God requires  
For graces past, are not those idle prayers,  
Which done to— on the stairs.  
Goodluck, the god of highly placed desires,  
No other duty, but noble deeds requires.  
Let Acmat the Fortune loves them that venture.  Rost. 
Acmat is wise, and Solyman beloved,  
Even Tyrants covet to uphold their fame,  
Not fearing evil deeds, but evil name.  
For PRINCE's skill, is, to make Greatness show  
Rich in the good, where of it hath least part,  
And to conceal that which within they know:  
So that at once he will not shed the blood  
Of Acmat, though he mean his overthrow:  
lest men should think their favour but a net,  
Where easy in, but hardly out they get.  Rossa. 
Rosten, let Mustapha be thy example,  
That Tragedies, are Gods and PRINCE's plays.  
Kings know new hopes, blot out the shame of books,  
Desires eye on— hope only looks.  
While children's blood the father's forehead stain,  
What privilege for Councillors remain?  
He that hath intent to ruin houses,  
Plucks not the timber all at once away,  
lest ruins ruin on himself he lay.  
Fury will have a time to breath, from killing,  
Fury is a wheel, with ease kept going,  
Where it with many hands at first was moved.  
Fears shield of proof is tramped in others' blood,  
Good fortune seldom comes by doing good.  Rost. 
Fortune is often by presumption tempted  
To turn the back.  Rossa. 
Nay fortune harlot-sick,  
Who thinks good manner to be want of spirit,  
Is dearest unto those, that use her rudely,  
Only with humble bashfulness is tempted.  Rost. 
What argument against him?  Rossa. 
Use of killing.  
Suspicion, the favourite of Princes,  
Delight of change, favours past, and fear of greatness,  
Sharpened by Acmat's harsh and open dealing,  
With noble PRINCE's liberty would draw  
Into the narrow scope of common awe.  
Power of mischance yields honour to adventure.  
Mustapha is dead.  Rost. 
Not dead, while Acmat liveth,  
Small sparks from fire quenched to danger grows;  
From him that fears to strike, fear never parteth,  
Let Acmat die, and danger is departed.  
For Zanger I his brother's charge have gotten;  
Yet lest his death, not looked for, might amaze him,  
(For youth, and kindness, oft do think it glory  
At things, done for their profit, to repine)  
I will make haste, and give him from his father  
Mustapha's estate, his fortune and succession.  
When reason fails, one passion rules another,  
Hope and good fortune do forget a brother.  Rossa. 
Come Rosten, let us do, and then consider.    

CHORUS.  
WHen will this life this spark put in our sprite,  
To give light to this lump of flesh and blood:  
Leave to deny strong destiny her right,  
Which it feels daily, cannot be withstood.  
Man look not down; look up into the sky.  
There live thou must, and may'st be glad to die.  

ACTVS. V. SCENA. I.  Achmatt alone. 
In what Dilemma of mischance stand I,  
Used by the subtle Art of wicked government,  
To serve a tyrant's turn with faith and honesty.  
Placed over men, whom unjust rage doth justly move.  
I am either in heat of heady mutiny  
To die; or scaping by respect, that safety may  
Suspicion to myself and honour lay,  
Destiny hath shot the shaft and it must light.  
To stir or pain against the stream of fate,  
Which moves from ill deserts, it is too late.  
Innocence and faith from safe estates overthrow,  
For floods of error from authority,  
The multitude hath easily overthrown,  
For when Kings states must— and must fall,  
justice divides not there, but ruins all.  
But look where Rossa comes like April waters,  
Both gusts and cleaves in stormy forehead carrying,  
Like power, that with itself doth fear miscarrying.   

ACTVS. V. SCENA. II.  

Rossa.  
Chorus.  
Acmat.   Acm. 
whoever thinks by virtue to aspire,  
And goodness deems to be good fortune's star,  
Or who by mischief will seek his desire,  
And thinks no Conscience ways to honour are.  
Mustapha, here seeing thee and me,  
Sees no man, good or ill, rules destiny.  
And would exchange the course of fates by wit,  
Which Gods do make to bring their works to end,  
And with itself, even oft doth ruin it:  
A Tyrant fate, to them that do amiss,  
For nothing left me but my error is.  Chor. 
What glory is this, that with itself is sad?  
Good luck makes all men, but the guilty, glad.  Ross. 
Zanger; for whom Mustapha was slain:  
Zanger; for whom Camena's blood was shed:  
Zanger; for whom all the world on me complained,  
Hath done that, which no truth or law could do,  
Remorse and fears in my distress hath bred,  
Murdered himself and overthrown me too.  
In every creatures heart there lives desire,  
Which men do follow, as appearing good,  
And Greatness, men do think it to aspire,  
Although it weakness be, well understood.  
This unbound raging infinite thoughts fire  
I took, nay it took me, and placed my heart  
On hopes to alter Empires and Successions.  
And as the sea, when his ambitious power  
Hath overrun his neighbour element:  
His pride, his rage, his glory to devour,  
Nor can with any greatness be content,  
Till all the Country that lay still before,  
Rise up, and force him back unto the shore.  
So whenas I had won the marriage bed;  
And Soliman with himself overcome,  
To break and lay asleep his prophet's law,  
By being only of desire in awe;  
Error, of self harm ever brought a-bed,  
Made me this wheel of misfortune draw.  
Danger was sport, mischief desires art;  
Nothing seemed hard, but to leave this impression.  
I Mustapha his fall did undertake,  
And like the storms that— do blow,  
When all things, but themselves, they overthrow,  
Hateful I did him to his father make,  
But as desires on divers things are placed,  
So; divers works.  
For fowls, like senses; have a divers taste,  
There be birds of the day, and of the night,  
No laws can make one will to be embraced,  
The daughter's heart will make the mother spite;  
Camena's thoughts were soft, her good was forth,  
She but with others love, though nothing worth.  
To Mustapha, she opens mine intent,  
For she had tried, but could not turn my heart;  
Yet she no hurt to me, in telling meant,  
Yet hurt she did me, to disclose my art;  
I sought revenge; revenge it could not be,  
For I confess, she never wronged me.  
But as the Christian, when she sees her child  
Pulled by the great-Lords-men from mother's breast;  
Though she do know, it will him honour yield;  
Yet for her father's sake, her soul cannot rest.  
So though I know Camena's heart was good,  
Yet I did earn to have my will withstood,  
Remorse, which hath affection in each heart;  
Since whose reason is, but what they see,  
Womanish love and shame with fear took part,  
They all conspired to have commanded me;  
Humble patience void of fear and art,  
Camena's only strength and weapons be;  
I killed her, yet confess I did her love;  
Furies of choice what arguments can move,  
I killed her, for a thought her death would prove,  
That truth, not hate made Mustapha suspected,  
The more it seemed against a mother's love,  
The more it showed I Solyman affected:  
Thus underneath severe and upright dealing,  
A mischievous stepmothers malice stealing,  
It took effect; for few mean ill in vain;  
He died infamous; though he guiltless were;  
High power hath truth tied under laws of fear;  
I live self-guilty, and who durst complain,  
So little care the Gods for me below,  
So little men fear, God they do not know.  
This Mustapha, whose death I made my glory,  
Hath spoiled all my power, but power to be sorry.  
For Zanger, when he saw his brother dead,  
Confusedly with divers shapes distract,  
He silent stood, horrors dark clouds possessed him,  
Madness was mixed with woe, kindness with—  
Rack, reverence, revenge, both representing shame,  
Stood equally against, and with a mother's name:  
But as these shadows from his heart withdrew,  
That light became restored to his mind,  
The globes of his enraged cares he threw  
On me, like nature justly made unkind,  
Virtue bore secret witness he was true,  
Remorse did then make me my error find,  
Find Lo. this hateful— love did make,  
From pity woe— he spoke.  
Mother, is this— heart?  
Is there nor Law— your desire?  
Can neither power nor goodness scape your art?  
Be these the Counsels, by which you aspire?  
Doth mischief only, fear no overthwart?  
Is there no Hell, nor do the devils love fire?  
If neither God, Heaven, Hell, nor Devil be,  
'Tis plague enough that I am borne of thee.  
Mother, (O monstrous name) shall it be said,  
That thou hast done this fact for Zanger's sake?  
Honour and life shall they to me upbraid,  
That from thy mischief they their glory take.  
O wretched men that under shame are laid,  
For sins that we, and sins our parents make.  
Yet Rossa, to be thine in this I glory,  
That being thine gives power to make thee sorry.  
He wounds his heart and down with death he falls  
On Mustapha, who there for his sake died,  
Fame with his breath he wils on him to call,  
Forgetfulness he would should me betide.  
— For the dead and mercy for us all  
And with these words, for mercy died.  
Thy goodness I misunderstood,  
Shunning ill, did worse to shed my blood,  
He dies.  
Woe is me when in my— look,  
Horror I see all their lost but—  
My love I joy become— book,  
Eternity of shame is printed there.  
Think of God, Alas that so I might  
Madness only nature's peace.  
With thyself, though all else thou displease,  
Made to give light spirits ease,  
What shall I do.  
Desuntpauca.    
FINIS.