THE wars OF CYrus King of Persia, against Antiochus King of Assyria, with the Tragical end of Panthaea.  
Played by the children of her majesties Chapel.  
 
LONDON Printed by E. A. for William Blackwal, and are to be sold at his shop over against Guildhall gate. 1594.   

The wars of Cyrus' king of Persia against Antiochus king of Assiria.  
Enter Cyrus, Histaspas, Chrysandus, with other. Cyrus. 
YE Persians, Medians, and Hyrcanians,  
Trusty assistants, assisters in this happy war,  
Ye see the banded power of Asia,  
Whose number overspread the Assyrian fields  
And in their passage drank main rivers dry,  
By favour of the gods, and our devoir,  
Are overthrown and scattered through the plains,  
Like Autumn leaves before a Northern wind.  
Croesus is foiled, and fled to Lydia,  
The Arabian prince is whelmed amidst the sands,  
And last, the old Assyrian king is slain.  
Now triumph in the fortune of your hands,  
Whose fame hath directed these affairs.  Chris. 
O Cyrus when I saw the Lydian king,  
Croesus that dastard and reproach of Asia,  
Shining in armour forged of Indian gold.  
Brave mounted on a prancer of Eperus,  
So shamefully to forsake the field and fly,  
I envied that so cowardly a king,  
Should use so good an armour and a horse.  Cyr. 
Chrisandas, like to Croesus be our foes,  
Glorious in show, but cowardly in mind.  Chris. 
Cyrus those arms which dastard Croesus were,  
And horse of pride and courage past compare,  
What heart so base that would deem to fight,  
Might I but live to back so brave a steed.  Cyr. 
Croesus is gone, and gone with him his steed,  
This wish of yours Chrisantas is in vain,  
But of two hundred horses of mine own,  
Of gallant race and courage singular,  
Take you the choice and furniture withal,  
The bridles bit of massy silver wrought,  
The bosses gold, the reins of Persian silk,  
The saddles all embroidered purple work,  
Armed through with plates, with fine engraven gold,  
And golden trappers dangling to the ground.  Chris. 
So live my Lord and flourish still,  
As I regard this honourable gift.  Cyr. 
Now Lords we have gotten the honour of the day  
And with our feet trod down the Thracian pride,  
While I do sacrify for victory,  
and chose the holy altars of the gods,  
Do you betwixt the armies part the spoils,  
and glad our men with fruits of our conquest.  Ara. 
What portion of the gold shall we reserve  
To be employed in your highness use?  Cyr. 
Araspas none for me, divide it all,  
It pleaseth me to see my soldiers rich. Exit Cyrus.  Chris. 
The Persian horsemen that did give the charge  
Shall have five hundred talents for their share.  Hist. 
The Medians that did enforce the fight,  
and seconded the Persian men at arms,  
Allot to them six hundred arming coats.  Ara. 
The archers of Hercania served so well,  
as not to give them payment with the rest,  
Were open wrong to their approved deserts.  Chr. 
You know that in the sacking of Assyrians tents  
we found three thousand Scythians bows in store,  
finished with quivers ready to the field,  
Let them be lotted to the Hyrcanians part.  Hist. 
And truth Chrisantas you know well,  
That bows and quivers 'gree with archers best,  
Cyrus himself you see refuseth gold,  
And only seeks to make his fellows rich,  
what rests amidst the conquered spoils,  
wherein his highness may be gratified?  Ara. 
Histaspis there is a proud Assyrian tent,  
Wherein the king was wont to sleep and banquet in,  
I think if that were offered to his hands,  
Cyrus would take it in most gracious part.  Chr. 
But is the pride and bravery thereof,  
worthy to be presented to our Lord?  Aras. 
Asia hath not seen a richer prize,  
The covering is of blue Sydoman silk,  
Embroidered all with pearl and precious stones,  
They glimmer brighter than the Sun itself,  
On every point of the pavilion,  
There stands a princely top of Phoenix plumes,  
which tricked with spangles and with silver bells,  
And every gentle murmur of the wind,  
delights the day with every harmony.  
The stakes wherewith 'tis fastened to the ground,  
are massy silver of the purest proof,  
The ropes are all of crimson silk and gold,  
Hung from the top with wrists of ivory,  
Under a Vine where Bacchus bruiseth grapes,  
and twenty cubits hover in the leaves,  
Believe me Lords, when I behold the thing,  
The work appeared so glorious to the eye.  Chr. 
Araspas you describe a princely thing,  
Worthy to be presented to a king.  Hist. 
And here is a tent, though far from such a tent,  
This shall be mine, the owner's fled or slain,  Cri. 
O beauty rare and more than mortal shape,  
What goddess oweth this earthly tabernacle.  Pan. 
Nicasia sings while Panthra sits and sighs.  
But singing sings of Panthra's wretchedness.  Chris. 
What are ye Lady?  Pan. 
What I would not be.  Chris. 
Fair you are, what would ye more?  Pan 
I would be free.  
Ye Persian Lords I am a woeful dame.  
Exposed to wretchedness and fortune's wrath,  
And thus I have resolved you what I am.  Ara. 
Lady, the graces that adorn your presence,  
Deserves a fortune mild as it your face.  
But howsoever Fortune envies you,  
Yet we will use you honourable still.  Pan. 
You use me then but as you ought to do.  Chris. 
Nay Lady we may use you otherwise,  
For voluntary favours be no debt.  Pan. 
But Lords whate'er you ought is debt,  
you ought to use me well, and therefore debt.  Ara. 
Madam, you are a captive in our hands,  
And captives are not to command the conquerors.  Pan. 
No Lords if captives might command the conquerors,  
I would command you to release me hence.  
But captive as I am, honour commands,  
That you entreat and use me honourably.  Chris. 
Such honour as to captives doth belong,  
Such honour Lady we intend to you.  Pan. 
My sex requireth more than common grace.  Ara. 
And eke so doth that lively face.  Pan. 
Let be my usage as shall please my conqueror,  
And now I'll learn to crave with servile terms.  
My lords, though captive, yet I am a Queen,  
And wife unto the absent Susan king.  
My lord and hear Assyrian Abradate,  
And noble prince and mighty man at arms.  
Upon embassage of the king of Batria.  Chr. 
But madam what persuasion moved your mind,  
To thrust yourself unto the Assyrian camp.  Pan. 
weighing the double fortune of the wars,  
And in my thoughts foredreading these mishaps,  
What likelier rescue to prevent my harms,  
Then to be guarded with a mighty camp,  
Since that an army of united hearts,  
Is stronger than a fort of brazen walls.  Ara. 
Madam, your fall is great and lamentable,  
Thus of a Queen a captive to become,  
This rests to show your princely fortitude,  
In bearing these mishaps with patient mind.  Pan. 
Philosophy hath taught me to embrace,  
A mean and moderation in mishaps,  
Long since I learned to master all affects,  
And perturbations that assail the mind,  
Only I have not learned to master chance,  
yet have I learned to scorn the utmost spite,  
Only the pang that most torments my thought,  
Is absence of my best beloved lord.  Chris. 
Learn henceforth to forget your lord,  
There lives another lord to enjoy your love,  
Victorious Cyrus he shall be your lord.  Pan. 
Victorious Cyrus though I be his thrall,  
Shall know my honour is invincible.  Ara. 
But they that once in state of bondage be.  
Must yield to hest of others that be free.  Pan. 
Lord's dream of me or Cyrus as you please,  
Only this outward person is his thrall,  
My mind and honour free and ever shall.  Chris. 
For that agree with Cyrus as you may,  
Till then Araspas take her to your tent.  Aras. 
Come Lady, you must walk apart with me,  Pan. 
So fortune and my destinies agree.  Enter Gobrias and his page. Go. 
Persians conduct me to your general.  Chr. 
What art thou that thus armed with sword and spear,  
Dares crave access unto our general?  Go. 
I come to yield, bring me to Cyrus' tent.  Hist. 
Thy habit shows thou art an enemy,  
And we may suspect thou meanest but ill,  
Therefore if thou wilt yield unarm thyself,  
And we will bring thee unto Cyrus' tent.  Go. 
The Assyrian king whom ye have put to death,  
Making me leader of a thousand horse,  
Buckled the armour with his gracious hands,  
Nor shall it be unloosed but by asking.  Hist. 
How haughty minded is this conquered man,  
Cyrus shall know upon what terms he stands.  
Assyrian captain as thou lovest thy life,  
Stand not upon thy guard, but yield to us.  Go. 
Small guard have I to shield me from your swords,  
Most of my region is slain in fight,  
And of a thousand only these are left,  
Whose wounds yet bleeding proves then faint & weak,  
Yet rather will we run upon your spears,  
Then with dishonour yield our weapons,  
These if ye injure us must be our friends,  
And either make us live or die like men.  Enter Cyrus. Cyr. 
Of whence art thou that craves access to us?  Go. 
By birth great Cyru: an Assyrian,  
And of the noblest house in Babylon.  
Sometime commander of a thousand horse,  
But those thy men have slaughtered and surprised,  
And therefore I have lost the ample shle,  
yet I am mighty Gobrias, rich in revenues, strong in fortresses  
That can command a camp of fighting men,  
As resolute (be it said without offence)  
As those that had the glory of the day,  
All which with me the governor of all,  
I yield unto your mighty patronage.  Cyr. 
This stout Assyrian hath a liberal look,  
And of my soul is far from treachery,  
Albeit Gobrias I mistrust thee not,  
yet tell me being so wealthy and so strong,  
Why rather yield'st thou to thy enemy,  
Then live with freedom in Assyria,  Gob. 
O know my lord, whilst the Assyrian king,  
Which in this war was slain, enjoyed the crown,  
Being highly favoured of his majesty,  
He sent unto me for mine only son,  
Meaning to grace me with the nuptial,  
Of his fair daughter lovely Carmela.  
I glad to have alliance with the king,  
Sent him my son. Who coming to the court,  
Was fair entreated, gently entertained,  
And well was he that might he his copere,  
For fair he was and full of sweet demeanour.  
Pleasant, sharp, wise and liberal,  
And were he not my son, I would say more,  
Though his remembrance makes me weep outright.  Cyr. 
Noble Assyrian either leave to weep,  
Or speak no more, Cyrus is full of ruth,  
And when a man of thy estate laments,  
He cannot choose but weep for company,  
Dry up these tears and tell the rest.  Gob. 
Began to grow familiar with my son,  
And with him rode a hunting in the woods,  
where first the hounds put up a russet bear,  
At which the king flung soon his hunting dart,  
And missed. But mine threw and pierced his heart.  
Then suddenly a Lion did arise,  
At whom likewise he let his javelin fly,  
And hit him not: which when my son perceived,  
He overthrew the Lion as the bear.  
which done, said he, twice have I thrown and sped,  
whereat the prince snatched from his page a spear,  
And in a rage murdered my guiltless son.  
And that (which grieves me more) when he was dead,  
Albeit the old king wept most bitterly,  
He neither did repent nor shed a tear,  
Nor would consent to give him burial,  
but left him in the field until I came,  
And took his body in these aged arms,  
which eke for grief made me to let him fall,  
And then a fresh made him to bleed again,  
And me to weep upon his naked breast,  
Oh judge my lord, if you have had a son,  
How heavily I brook his timeless death.  
Oh judge my lord, whether that I have cause  
To offer service to that murderer,  
On whom I cannot look, but in his face  
as in a glass I see my slaughtered son.  Cyr. 
Gobrias thou hast just cause to revolt,  
And we to trust thy welcome unto us,  
And for the thousand horse which thou hast lost,  
we will requite them with a greater gift,  
be thou lieutenant of the Arcanians.  Gob. 
I humbly thank your royal majesty,  
And here in presence of the Persian lords,  
adopt you heir of all my provinces,  
My holds and castles, villages and towns,  
Conditionally that I may be revenged,  
On this arch-tyrant murderer of my son.  
Saving one daughter I have never a child,  
And she endued with jewels, plate and gold,  
shall be bestowed as you my lord think best.  Cyr. 
Assyrian I have captains worthy here,  
She shall be matched as beseems a princess borne,  
And for revenge upon the Assyrian king,  
We will girt in Babylon with our high host,  
Or either starve them with a lingering siege,  
Or rip his bowels with our Persian swords,  
But in the mean time frolic in our tent,  
Histaspis lead the Assyrian to our camp.  
And entertain him as beseemeth a prince,  
Armuchus and Chrisantus follow him.  
Araspas, as I lately gave in charge  
Is all the spoil divided equally?  Ara. 
It is my Lord, and every soldier pleased,  
Where is enclosed a jewel of such worth,  
As Asia hardly can afford the like.  
The Susian king stout abradates' Queen,  
A woman so richly embellished  
with beauty and perfection of the mind,  
As never any mortal creature was.  
Her hair as radiant as is Tagis sand,  
And softer than the stream on which it runs.  
Her lily cheeks all died with ruddy blush,  
Casts such reflection to the standers by,  
As doth the union of ten thousand suns.  
Through her transparent neck the air doth play,  
And makes it fairer than a Crystal glass,  
And from her eyes it seems nature herself,  
Bids every star receive his proper light.  
For with her glance she casteth such a brightness,  
As makes the night more brighter than the day.  
And day more fairer than is Eliziur.  
But when she talks so pleasant is her voice,  
As were she blacker than the pitchy night,  
She would entice the hardest Massagete.  
Or wildest Scythian in your highness camp.  
And when she looks upon you, were she dumb  
Her beauty were in stead of eloquence.  
And had she neither loveliness nor wit,  
The harmony she makes would ravish you,  
She weeps and plays while both her handmaids sing.  
And sighs at every strain using that note,  
Which Orpheus sings for Eruditus.  
with wringed hands her waiting maids keep time,  
Upon their mournful breasts, as were we flint,  
we could not choose but melt to hear their songs,  
wherefore my lord comfort this captive dame.  
And with your presence comfort her distress.  Cyr. 
Araspas wouldest thou have me visit her,  
when by her beauty I may be enthralled?  Ara. 
Your Grace may look on her, and yet not love.  Cyr. 
Dost thou not think that love is violent?  Ara. 
Nay rather voluntary my gracious lord,  
you know that woman's beauty is like fire,  
And fire doth always burn each thing alike,  
Therefore if nature were of such great power,  
Should every man by beauty be inflamed?  
But beauteous things are not in equal powers,  
For some love that which others do abstain.  
Either for fear or love, to prove this true,  
The sister of the brother is not loved,  
The daughter of the father not desired,  
And yet some one loves any of them both.  Cyr. 
If love be voluntary as thou sayest,  
why cannot lovers leave it when they will?  Ara. 
They may.  Cyr. 
Have you not seen them weep and wail for death?  
Empty their purse of coin, their brain of wit,  
Sending both gifts and letters to their loves?  Ara. 
They yield too much unto affections.  
'tis folly and not beauty makes them die.  Cyr. 
Men are in folly when they are in love,  
Urge me no more, I will not visit her.  
For by the eye love slips into the heart,  
Making men idle, negligent.  
Nothing can more dishonour warriors,  
Then to be conquered with a woman's look.  
Araspas I resign my part to thee,  
Thou shalt be keeper of that Susan Queen,  
Use her as fits a woman of such birth,  
Excuse me for not coming to her tent,  
Bid her be merry with her singing maids,  
And say that Cyrus will entreat her fair. Exeunt.  Music. Finis Actus primi.  
Enter Ctesifon and Nobles. Nob. 
Antiochus king of Assiria,  
So Lord of Euphrates and Babylon,  
How long wilt thou lament thy father's death?  
Cast off those mourning weeds.  Anot. 
How long will I lament my father's death?  
Until proud Persia weep for Cyrus' death.  Ctes. 
Oh that will never be, Cyrus is strong,  
So strong my Lord, that were not Babylon,  
Fortified with victuals for twenty years,  
Guarded with soldiers that will never yield.  
Sooner would he expel you from your seat,  
Than you with open arms could anger him.  Ant. 
What is revenge but open wars,  
As were Antiochus a private man,  
And one of you king of Assyria,  
I would not fail to work his overthrow,  
But you that are not touched with inward grief,  
will not in that attempt be resolute.  Ct s. 
Vouchsafe O Lord to tell me what it is,  
If I attempt it not then let me die.  Ant. 
Why this it is, feign I have injured thee,  
And offer service to the Persian king.  
Then being received as late Gobrias was,  
How easy mayst thou slay him and escape.  
For in the night he walks about his camp,  
Without a guard even as a common man.  Ctes. 
Yet he that kills him sure is to die.  Ant. 
I thought the fear of death would daunt him quite  
A thousand talents would I freely give,  
To him that undertakes this enterprise.  Ctes. 
My Lord I am resolved, give me the gold.  
And I will venture life in this exploit.  Ant. 
My treasurer at arms shall give it thee,  
And Ctesifon when I receive his head,  
Beside this sum thou shalt have annual pay,  
As much as thy revenues mount unto,  
And where thou art by calling but a knight,  
I'll make thee Lord of many provinces.  Ctes. 
As for the gold keep it till I return,  
and if I die deliver it to my friend.  Ant. 
Well Ctesiphon manage this glorious act,  
Let me embrace him ere I take my leave.  Ctes. 
Fare well my lord. Now you Assyrian gods,  
To whom we sacrifice our foemen's blood,  
Give favour to my looks, faith to my speech,  
That being gracious with the Persian Lord,  
By me Assyria may be free from bands,  
And both the king and subjects death revenged.  Nob, 
Fare well brave minded Ctesiphon.  Ant. 
While this is doing we will march from hence,  
Unto the country where Gobrias dwelled,  
He hath a castle well replenished,  
with victuals, men and furniture,  
And as our spies gives us to understand,  
His only daughter stays within the hold,  
Not knowing of her father's late revolt,  
Therefore will we surprise her unawares,  
and thou shalt be lieutenant in his stead,  
when we have made his soldiers yield the fort.  Enter Araspas solus. Ara. 
Must I confess that love is violent.  
By doting on my captive Panthea,  
I will not love, I'll bridle those affects.  
It cannot be resisted, I must yield,  
Oh what a tyrant is this cruel love,  
That drinks my blood, and makes me pale and wan,  
That sucks my spirits, and makes me weak and faint,  
That tears my heart, and makes me almost dead.  
That revels in my brains and makes me mad.  
I am a soldier, and will conquer love,  
I'll mount me straight, give me a horseman's staff,  
Proud love, sit fast, for now Araspas runs,  
Run, and scarcely stand: O Panthea,  
Thou sets my idle fantasy thus a work,  
and makes me speak and think I know not what.  
I would I might forget fair Panthea,  
I cannot name her but I must say fair,  
And that word fair makes me remember her.  
Panthea is ugly, black, ill favoured, fowl,  
And who is so beautiful as she?  
And I must weep for this misterming her,  
Why should I weep? ask I the reason why?  
I have abused my love, weep not but die.  
Die not but live and enjoy thy love.  
What contrariety consisteth in my words.  
O reconcile them, lovely Panthea.  
Thy looks hath made me lunatic.  Enter Panthea and Nicasia. Pan. 
I have intelligence that our Lord is sick,  
we come to comfort him as captives may.  Aras. 
Oh welcome Panthea, shall I tell my grief?  Pan. 
Sit still my Lord,  
why change you colour thus, what troubles you?  Aras. 
Something stands by and whispers in my ear,  
A kiss of Panthea will recover me.  Pan. 
O leave these idle words, they make you worse  Ara. 
Nay they recover me, I am half well.  Pan. 
So say they that are going from the world.  Ara. 
Panthea sit down, but sit so Panthea,  
As I may view thy face, or else I die.  Pan. 
Nicasia command the music play,  
It may be music will allay the fit.  Ara. 
Nicasia cause the music cease, Music plays.  
For it is harsh and mars the harmony,  
Come Panthea sit down by me, and let us talk.  Pan. 
Talk is nought, turn ye about and sleep.  Aras. 
Oh love?  Pan. 
How now my Lord, a soldier and lovesick?  Aras. 
I cannot keep it in, it bursts my heart,  
For thee sweet Panthea is Araspas sick.  Pan. 
For me, my Lord.  Aras. 
Fling not away, celestial Panthea,  
Though I were half dead I should follow thee.  Pan. 
The air will hurt thee, whither wilt thou go.  Ara. 
Where Panthea goes, oh frown not my fair love.  Pan. 
Then love me not, else I will more than frown.  Ara. 
What will a captive woman threat her love.  Pan. 
Oh give poor Panthea leave to threat herself.  
I mean my Tragedy shall end the love.  Ara. 
No lovely Queen, I'll rather end my love,  
Then anger Panthea, much less leather die,  
And yet God knows my love can never end,  
Being infinite in measure and in time.  Pan. 
What words be these that cut my ears with grief,  
Oh Abradates little dost thou know,  
What misery poor Panthea doth sustain,  
wicked Araspas perish in thy love. Exit Panthea.  Aras. 
Cannot I win her, O unhappy man?  
Araspas thou want'st eloquence to woo,  
Against chastity no eloquence prevails,  
It was because I offered her no gift,  
She is a Queen what gifts can compass her,  
I should have courted her with better words,  
But here doth love and threatening disagree,  
Nothing but Magic can obtain her love,  
If Magic will, than Panthea shall be mine.   

Actus secundus.  Enter Histaspis and Chrisantas. Hist. 
Chrisantas, when I look into the life,  
The manners, deeds, and qualities of mind,  
The graveness power, and imperial parts,  
wherewith young Cyrus is so full adorned,  
My thoughts foresee that he is ordained of God,  
To enlarge the limits of the Persian reign.  Chr. 
Histaspis, rare it is to see those years,  
So furnished with such rare experience,  
As is not common in the greyest hairs.  
Besides his body hath of these rare gifts,  
Used to labour, hunger, thirst and cold,  
Gives true foretokens that the prince will prove,  
A famous warrior and a conqueror.  Hist. 
And of the sundry virtues that abounds  
Daily increasing in her princely breast,  
Religion to the gods exceeds them all.  Chr. 
And reason good for of all human works.  
The care of them should chiefly be preferred.  Enter Cyrus. Cy. 
Is this Assyrian friend or foe to us?  
That dares approach so near the Persian camp.  Cte. 
In bending of my spear to Babylon,  
And breaking it against the Assyrian ground,  
I came a friend, not foe to Cyrus' camp.  Hist. 
What reason moves thee an Assyrian borne.  
To bear such rancour to thy country soil.  Cte. 
That secret I reserve for Cyrus' ears,  
Unto whose secret favour, I submit  
My person, honour, fortune, fame and life,  Hist. 
Inform the king certainly I will,  
O Persians truly fortunate are you,  
Under subjection of so sweet a prince,  
That measures all the actions of his life,  
By mercy, justice, and respect of right.  Hist. 
It seems th' Assyrian prince hath injured this man,  
with some notorious great indignity.  Cy. 
Man of Assyria, what wouldest thou with me?  Cte. 
O gracious Lord great and invincible,  
Receive into protection of your grace,  
A wretched man undone by tyranny,  
And lawless rigour of a cruel prince,  Cy. 
What prince is he that thou accusest thus?  Cte. 
The new Assyrian king, a man distained  
With endless marks of villainy and blood.  Cy. 
Descend unto the purpose of thy tale,  
And make thy state and fortune plain at once  Cte. 
I am, (I am said I) I was a man,  
Erst noble, now banished reprobate,  
Highly in favour with the Assyrian prince,  
Till sensual rage of his unbridled lust,  
Did lay my state and honour in the dust,  
And thus great Lord begun my Tragedy,  
One only virgin daughter had your thrall,  
Of years inclining now to marriage state,  
Her face and beauty (if I seem not vain)  
were equal to the best Assyrian dames,  
And she supposed the flower of Babylon.  
The bruit of which her rare perfections ran,  
Swifter than Fame through all th' Assyrian land,  
And lastly rested in the princes ears,  
Who wounded with report of beauty's pride,  
Unable to restrain his darn desire,  
A trended by a band of armed men,  
Invades my castle when I was at rest,  
And bore my daughter thence with violate hands,  
Unto his palace where she doth remain,  
As concubine allotted to his bed.  
Striving her desperate honour to preserve,  
I came in frantic sort to Babylon,  
Exclaiming on this villainous despite,  
Banding the prince with many a bitter view,  
My just complaints when once he understood,  
He sorts me out a damned bloody crew,  
Of rustians, swearers, murderers, and thieves,  
Professed men for gain and lucre's sake,  
To make no conscience whom they slay and kill,  
Those men by solemn oath had vowed my life,  
A sacrifice unto their cursed sword,  
And hour by hour they sought to reave my soul,  
Living in hazard of continual death,  
I knew no home for me at Babylon,  
Other than my grave and doomless sepulchre,  
And so for refuge to my wretched life,  
I have abandoned country, friends and all,  
And prostrate my estate at Cyrus' feet,  
O puissant Lord whose great and conquering sword,  
was forged by Mars and made for victory,  
Protect the life of thy unhappy thrall,  
And make him follower of the Persian arms,  
That in the fortune of thy mighty hand,  
The fall of Ctesiphon may be revenged.  Gob. 
O Ctesiphon this tale of thine revives  
The woeful memory of my dearest son,  
Slaughtered by that most barbarous tyrant hand.  Cyr. 
Gobrias ye have heard the Assyrian tale.  
What great complaints he makes against the prince,  
And those not causeless if his words be true,  
Now Cyrus is not rashly credulous,  
Nor binds his faith on every strangers vows.  
Tell me Gobrias, dost thou simply think,  
That this discourse is nought but naked truth,  
Or else some forged or dissembled gloze,  
To sound our secrets, and bewray our drifts.  Go. 
Cyrus the disposition of this prince,  
Sold up and sworn to endless villainies,  
May prove the griefs of Ctesiphon unfeigned,  
Upon my conscience Cyrus trust the man,  
No doubt his sorrow and complaints are true.  Cte. 
O Cyrus so it pleased the immortal Gods,  
How happy were thy servant, if his words  
proceeded from a vain dissembling tongue,  
So were my daughter's honour undefiled,  
And Ctesiphon her father not exiled.  Cyr. 
Be valiant Ctesiphon and follow me,  
Follow the fortune of a happy camp,  
Not doubt thou, but thou shalt see the end,  
Shall rue the injuries of his barbarous life,  
Among the damned souls in darkest hell.  Cte. 
Then should my ghost with ceaseless words oppressed.  
Pass and descend into the grave in rest.  Exeunt omnes. To the audience. 
We gentle gentlemen devise of late,  
To shun the vulgar and the virtuous,  
Present to you worthy to judge of us,  
Our works of worth and valiantness at once.  
What wants in us imagine in the works,  
What in the works condemn the writer of,  
But if the work and writing please you both,  
That Zenophon from whence we borrow write,  
Being both a soldier and philosopher,  
Warrants what we record of Panthea,  
It is writ in sad and tragic terms,  
May move you tears than you content, our muse  
That seems to trouble you again with toys  
Or needless antics imitations,  
Or shows, or new devices sprung a late,  
we have exiled them from our Tragic stage,  
As trash of their tradition, that can bring  
nor instance, nor excuse. For what they do  
In stead of mournful plaints our Chorus sings,  
Although it be against the up start guise,  
Yet warranted by grave antiquity,  
we will revive the which hath long been done.  Exit. Enter Alexandra like a page, Libanio in Alexandra's apparel. Lib. 
madam you see your page doth undertake,  
A costly piece of service for your sake,  
For well that service costly may be called,  
The end whereof of force must cost my life,  
For when th' Assyrian king shall understand  
My forged habit, and dissembling sex,  
And in these female weeds shall find Libanio,  
And Alexandra freely scaped his hands,  
What hope but certain death remains for me,  
And that with torments rare and exquisite.  
Yet madame for the reverence to my Lord,  
And duty that doth bind me to yourself,  
I will be Alexandra for this once,  
and die to save your honour and your life.  Alex. 
O trusty servant, servant of surmounting faith,  
Worthy to attend the person of a god,  
Rather than daughter of poor Gobrias,  
This sacred service to a silly dame,  
Shall be engraven in tables of my heart,  
with letters and characters so performed,  
That when this body is bestowed in grave,  
No time nor yet corruption shall deface,  
The print thereof from Alexandra's breast.  Lab. 
Thanks Lady, And for your further meed,  
Sufficeth me the honour of the deed.  
methinks I see the Assyrian stout at hand,  
Now madame carry a courageous heart,  
And trust your page for Alexandra's part.  Alex. 
A Tragical part I fear Libanio.  Enter Antiochus, Seleveus, Critobulus with others. Ant. 
Bird of a traitor I presumed at last,  
Your lot would be to light into my hands,  
Although of cankered heart you would not yield,  
Until your castle shaked about your ears.  Lib. 
O sovereign Lord stand gracious to this dame,  
That never trespassed in offence to you.  Ant. 
Thy father's treason in revolting back,  
From due allegiance to th' Assyrian crown,  
I will revenge upon his daughter's life.  Lib. 
What honour in a silly virgin's death?  
That near had power or will to harm your grace.  Ant. 
Because the plants of such corrupted stocks,  
will fructify according to the root,  
And for Gobrias treason to his prince,  
I will prevent like mischiefs in his race.  Lib. 
Admit Gobrias might be reclaimed,  
Unto his first allegiance to my Lord,  
Would you remit the offence of his revolt,  
And take him to your former grace again?  Ant. 
So let the gods stand gracious to my soul,  
If he forsake those hateful Persian arms,  
And firm his faith and loyalty to me.  Lib. 
Then prince before you wreak revenge on me,  
Grand passport and safe conduit to my page,  
That he may go and signify to him,  
The desperate state wherein his daughter stands,  
When once my father shall perceive my plight,  
And that my life must pay for his revolt,  
I know that instant hour he will return,  
And yield himself to mercy of my Lord.  Ant. 
Scribe give her page safe conduct through my camp,  
And boy when you arrive before Gobrias,  
Tell if he return I pardon him,  
If other wise, off goes his daughter's head.  Alex. 
I will dread Lord: O madam grant the gods,  
These eyes once more may see your liberty.  Exit Alexander. Lib. 
As pleaseth their deities Libanio.  Ant. 
Dinon take you this damsel to your charge,  
And use her nobly though she be a thrall.  Dinon. 
To use her worse the honour were but small.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Ctesiphon. Cte. 
I murder Cyrus, far be such a thought,  
Much more the execution of the deed,  
Like as the Sun beams to the gazer's eye,  
So is his view to daunted Ctesiphon,  
During the rancour of my wicked mind,  
And melting all in thoughts of sweet remorse,  
How wise and gracious is this Persian king,  
Who by his wisdom wins his followers hearts,  
Letting them march in armour wrought with gold,  
And he girt in a coat of complete steel.  
O Cyrus politic and liberal,  
How honourable and magnanimous?  
Rewarding virtue, and revenging wrongs,  
How full of temperance and fortitude,  
Daring to menace Fortune with his sword,  
Yet merciful in all his victories, Enter Cyrus.  
See where he comes, I'll fall upon the ground,  
And ask for pardon at his highness feet.  Cyr. 
Rise up Assyrian, Cyrus is no God.  Cte. 
O Cyrus, know Antiochus my Lord,  
My Lord, said I, no I will renounce him quite,  
suborned me wretch with his persuasions words,  
To do a deed of such impiety,  
As I God knows suborn to think upon,  
It was thy death victorious Cyrus,  
But mighty Lord your virtues conquered me,  
And or an enemy false and treacherous,  
Am I become a vowed friend to Cyrus' health,  
And in that resolution priest to die.  Cyr. 
Live long to wail for thy pretended ill,  
As free from punishment as for reward,  
The lives of kings are guarded by the gods,  
Nor are they in the hands of mortal men,  
Assyrian, though thy sword were at my breast,  
The jealous angel that attends on us,  
Would snatch it from thy hands, and fling it down.  
And therefore muse not at this accident.  Cte. 
Seeing knightly Cyrus is thus merciful,  
Vouchsafe this service at thy vassals hands,  
Give me but letters from your Majesty,  
To signify how fain you would have peace,  
And draw your legions from Assyria,  
And bearing them unto Antiochus,  
In the delivery I will murder him.  
So highly do I honour Cyrus' name,  
So vildly think on base Antiochus.  Enter Gobrias with Alexandra. Cyr. 
Thou shalt have letters to th' Assyrian king,  
Free liberty to pass from this our camp,  
And conduit money from our Treasury.  
Attend our leisure, I will send thee straight.  
What virgin is it that Gobrias leads?  Go. 
My daughter mighty Cyrus, and your child,  
For I commit her to your patronage.  Cyr. 
Then princely virgin welcome to our camp.  
But why sigh you, why hang you down the head?  
And in your pale looks bury beauty's pride,  
'tis pity these looks should be stained with tears.  Alex, 
even as a dove late rifled by the Eagle,  
Whose breast is tainted with his forked talents,  
So stands poor Alexandra terrified.  
And almost dead to think of her escape,  
If thou be Cyrus of whom Asia rings,  
Rescue, O rescue poor Libanio.  Cyr. 
From whom fair madame should I rescue him,  Alex. 
O from Antiochus that bloody king.  
Who when he heard my father served your grace,  
Besieged his fortress with his men at arms,  
Where only I and that Libanio staid.  
By whom I live, For when the hold was lost,  
He being bondman and of a baser birth,  
would needs constrain me to put on his weeds,  
And he disguised as I was wont to go,  
would be Gobrias daughter in my stead,  
And so was thought of king Antiochus.  
and all the nobles of his warlike camp,  
But I a bondman and at his request,  
whose care was only to preserve my life,  
Sent hither as a messenger from him,  
To will my father whom they thought my Lord,  
To leave your camp, and come to Babylon,  
Or else Libanio his beloved child  
should die for his so traitorlike revolt,  
And die he must, lest Gyrus give him life.  Cyr, 
The deed was full of honour and deceit,  
If gold will pay his ransom, he shall live,  
And therefore Alexandra be not sad.  Gob. 
So shall Gobrias beat Cyrus' beck,  
And for his sake make lavish of his blood.  Alex. 
And when they know how he deluded them,  
I fear they'll rate his ransom at his head.  Cy. 
Then blood and death Bellona's waiting maid,  
shall ghastly marching babylon's waste streets,  
And never was a bondman's death revenged,  
as Cyrus means for this Libanio.  Exit omnes. Enter Araspas, and a Magician, to Panthea asleep. Ara. 
Give me the charm, for now doth Panthea sleep  
If it prevail this jewel shall be thine,  Mag. 
Doubt not the operation of this charm,  
For I have tried it on Diana's nymph,  
And made her wanton and lascivious,  
If Panthea be a Goddess she must yield.  Ara. 
But tell me first, how must it be applied?  
And in what time will it begin to work?  Mag. 
Lay it under the pillow of her bed,  
and in an hour it will make her wake and yield.  Ara. 
I will. Now favour me infernal Jove.  Mag. 
So, wake her not till she begins to smile,  
Now love begins to seat him in her brain.  Pan. 
A way I will not, you are impudent.  Ara. 
Tell me Magician, what imports this speech?  Mag, 
Why now she thinks some solicits her.  Pan. 
You are deceived, I am not beautiful.  Ara. 
O give me leave to court her in her sleep,  
It may be when she wakes she will not love?  Mag. 
Softly Araspas, if you talk, she wakes.  Ara. 
O let her wake, I long to talk with her.  Mag. 
Now gins her eyes to open, and she stirs.  Ara. 
Stand thou aside until I call for thee.  Pan. 
What dreams and fond illusions have I had?  
How comes this word Love, in Panthea's mind?  
I love, nay rather will I die then love,  
and yet against my will I think on love,  
O Panthea think upon thy funeral,  
For thou art withered with excessive grief,  
Love and deformity cannot agree.  Ara. 
If Panthea be fair and beautiful,  
Then love and Panthea do well agree.  Pan. 
Araspas, Panthea and herself will jar,  
when she shall yield to love. Or what is love  
But gall and aloes to my martyred soul,  
Now Abradates is not in my sight.  Aras. 
Here is araspas' lovely Panthea,  
For thee I'll leave the field, then leave thou him,  
For thee I'll leave the world, then love thou me.  
Let Cyrus joy in pomp and empery,  
Sufficeth me to conquer fair Panthea.  
Let others glory in their ground and gold,  
Panthea to me is twenty thousand worlds.  
And without Panthea all the world is trash,  Pan. 
For thee Araspas will I curse my stars,  
That suffers thee so to solicit me,  
For thee I will count the world as hell,  
Except thou leave thus to solicit me.  Ara. 
How figurative is Panthea in her speech?  
Resembling cunning Rhetoricians,  
who in the person of some one deceased,  
Persuades their auditors to what they please,  
I cannot think that these be Panthea's words,  
She is so fair to give so sharp reply.  
But if these be the words of Panthea,  
Then must she change her face, and seem less fair,  
For know that beauty is loves harbinger,  
Then being beauteous, Panthea needs must love.  Pan. 
Would I were changed into some other shape,  
That I might fright thee with my hideous looks,  
I in the person of myself deceased.  
Protest this heart shall never harbour love,  
But if my looks be this preparative,  
I'll beat my face against the hapless earth,  
Or deeply harrow it with these my trembling hands,  
which I hold up to heaven to change thy mind,  
Or hasten death to rid me from this suit.  Aras. 
Nay then if amorous courting will not serve,  
Know whether thou wilt or no I'll make thee yield,  Pan. 
Though fortune make me captive, yet know thou  
That Panthea's will can never be constrained.  Ara. 
But torments can enforce a woman's will.  Pan. 
Then should thy importunity enforce,  
The sight of thee Araspas should constrain,  
For I protest before the gods of heaven,  
No torment can be greater in my thought.  Ara. 
ay, say so till ye feel them Panthea.  Pan. 
I feel more torments than thou canst invent,  
who add the more shall ease that I sustain,  
All torments be they never so exquisite,  
Are but ascending steps unto my end,  
And death tu Panthea is a benefit,  
what are thy threats but sugared promises.  Ara. 
Then shalt thou live and I'll importune thee.  Pan. 
ay, now is Panthea menaced to the proof.  
Yet every word thou speaks shall wound my heart,  
And in despite of thee I'll die at last,  
The earnester thou art the sooner too,  
But to prevent it thus I will fly from thee,  
Cyrus shall know Araspus' villainy.  Exit Panthra. Ara. 
Thus therefore shall I pine, abandon love,  
O 'tis inherent to araspas' soul.  
And thereby claims an immortality.  
So it shall near begin, nor never end,  
A cursed Magician, are these thy wicked spells?  Ma. 
O pardon me my honourable Lord,  
For Panthea's virtues frustrated all my art.  Ara. 
Must Magic yield to virtue? wherefore then  
Didst thou assure me she should be in love;  Ma. 
So was she being asleep, as did appear.  Ara. 
And why not being wake, speak villain speak  Mag. 
Reason my Lord was the predominant,  
Her intellectual part strived against love,  
and Magic cannot command the soul,  
while appetite and common sense remained,  
You saw I made her smile, embrace the air,  
and show the affects of amorous conceits,  
Few women use to skirmish with such thoughts,  
and had this Panthea been at liberty,  
she would have yielded to your honour's suit.  
But in captivity is nought but grief,  
and love with grief will keep no residence.  Ara. 
Smooth are thy words, but rough and harsh thy sense,  
For they import Panthea cannot be forced.  
Canst thou with incantations make her die?  
That she being gone my love may follow her.  Mag. 
Life is adjunct unto our human form,  
Exempt from Magic and magicians,  
And that's the cause we sooner hurt brute beasts,  
Than such as have the semblance of ourselves.  Ara. 
Deceitful Artisan thy words are sleights,  
Thy words deceitful and full of guile,  
Wit is a witch, sweet words must conquer her,  
Out of my sight, yet conceal this attempt,  
If thou bewray it, maugre all thy skill,  
This sword shall send thee to eternal hell.  Exeunt. Enter Dinon and Libanio. Dinon. 
Now are we at the banks of Euphrates,  
Far from the camp where soldiers haunt,  
and here may we under this poplar shade,  
Discourse upon the sweetness of our love.  Lib. 
You know my Lord I am too young to love,  Dinon. 
Fair Alexandra, if thou love not me.  
Thou art compact of adamant and iron,  
Thy years are fit for love, so are thy looks,  Lib. 
How fit soe'er my years be and my looks,  
I Alexandra am unfit to love.  
Is not my father with the Persian king,  
And I Alexendra as captive in his stead,  
And give me leave to wail my hard estate.  
and make a river with my flowing tears,  
That mingled with the stream of Euphrates,  
May swiftly run unto my father's seat,  
And make him haste to great Antiochus.  Dinon. 
Nay rather sit upon this ledgy banks,  
That I seeing thy shadow in the stream,  
May feed my fancy with thy pleasant view,  
If not enjoy the sweetness I desire,  
and leap into the waves and drown myself,  
That thou mayst pity Dinon being dead.  Lib. 
O I could pity Dinon being alive,  
But that I fear my father will not come,  
and then shall Alexandra suffer death.  
and being dead Dinon may pity me.  Dinon. 
Love, may I call thee love, lo she doth not frown,  
Her looks gives warrant for that Appetite,  
For thee I'll kneel before Antiochus,  
and rather than thou shalt be touched by him,  
I'll bear thee hence as far as Tanais,  
Or keep thee close in these Assyrian woods,  Lib. 
No place is secret to Antiochus,  
Dost thou not know that kings hath reaching hands?  Dinon. 
I do yet know my sword is sharp and keen  
which when I draw and brandish in the air,  
all Babylon will fight in my avail,  
who honour me more than Antiochus.  
I will not say how great thy dower shall be,  
Nor boast what cities I command,  
Let this, though not a king in name,  
In wealth and friends I am an Emperor.  Lib. 
If I should yield your honour might suppose,  
That dignity and wealth should conquer me,  
Therefore I blush to say I love my Lord.  Dinon. 
And when thou blushes Dinon's heart is fired,  
Therefore to quench it give a gentle grant.  Lib. 
My honour being preserved, my grant is given.  Dinon. 
Thereof am I as chary as thyself,  
And of thy love as of my proper life,  
O Alexandra thy words ravisheth me,  
Lull me asleep with sweetness of thy voice.  Lib. 
Then shall my song be of my Dinon's praise,  
Sleep Dinon, than Libanio draw thy sword,  
And manly thrust it in his slumbering heart.  
There is no way to save thy life but this.  
And therefore fear not, shall I slaughter him  
That entertained me with such amorous words,  
Such bounteous gifts and golden promises?  
When he shall know I am Libanio,  
And go I cannot but I shall be ta'en,  
Unless I slay him in his hapless sleep,  
For he will quickly wake and follow me,  
Now Dinon dies, alas I cannot strike,  
This habit makes me over pitiful.  
Remember that thou art Libanio. She kills him.  
No woman but a bondman, strike and fly.  Exit. Enter the Assyrian king and his Nobles. An. 
Now that Gobrias fortress is our own,  
His daughter prisoner, and his Country burnt,  
Let's march from hence to wealthy Babylon.  
And muster those resolved Citizens,  
To meet the Persian in the open field,  
Twice hath he led his forces by our gates,  
Yet never durst to mount his battering Ram,  
Or warlike engine against the rampired walls,  
Therefore we he no more in garrison,  
But bustle out and fight for liberty,  Nob. 
My Lord behold where Dinon slaughtered lies  Ant. 
Dinon, thou art decided it is not he,  Nob. 
It is my Lord I know him by his scars.  Ant. 
These scars were given him in my father's days,  
And now he is dead, ere I could guerdon him.  
The greatest honour I can do thee now,  
Is to lament and kiss thy lifeless cheeks,  
And that will I perform for Dinon's sake,  
O that I could revive thee with this kiss,  Nob. 
Doubtless Gobrias daughter murdered him,  
I saw them in the morning walk abroad,  
And since they ne'er returned into the camp,  Ant. 
Then she hath done this execrable fact,  
And so is fled unto her traitorous sire,  
O that a silly Maid should slaughter him,  
Which not a world of Persians could subdue,  
Is there no end of my calamity?  
My father done to death by Cyrus' sword,  
Wicked Gobrias and his daughter fled,  
False Ctesiphon resolved to murder me,  
And now Dinon my chiefest captain slain,  
Why run we not upon these Persians,  
which are the authors of these miseries?  
Come soldiers take him up and march away,  
we'll empty Babylon to meet our foes,  
And be revenged unto the ninth degree,  
Both of Gobrias and his family. Exeunt.  Enter Cyrus, Panthea, Gobrias, Histaspis. Pan. 
O Cyrus if the fortune of thy hand,  
Have turned my freedom to captivity,  
And of a Queen made me a captive dame,  
Yet think that virtue is not thrall to chance,  
Nor honour subject to unhappy time,  
But like a gallant consecrated ship,  
That in extremest wrath and storms of seas,  
Vaunts all her sails and fights the battle out.  Cyr. 
madam the reason of these vehement terms,  
Cyrus doth neither know, nor can conject,  
It since the time of your captivity,  
You have not been entreated as you ought,  
The gods can tell 'tis far against my thought.  Pan. 
Then know my great Lord, the man that took the charge,  
To guard my honour, and my person free,  
Long since doted on my person so,  
That doting he hath sought my honours wreak,  
A tedious siege (God knows) I have endure,  
More hedious unto me then hasty arms,  
While wild Araspas with his lewd desires,  
Ceaseless solicited my unlawful bed,  
without repulses I have quailed his hope,  
which he renewed with charge of fresh assaults.  
But my denials made his purpose vain,  
In fine, when no entreaty could prevail,  
To frame my fancy to his wicked will,  
He falls to threatenings from persuasions terms,  
And vows to purchase his desires by force,  
And therefore Cyrus (as thou art a king)  
Protect a lady's honour from the spoil,  
And let thy bondmaid live and die unstained,  
And if there rest no other hope for me,  
But havoc wreck and ruin of my fame,  
O Cyrus on thy sword let Panthea die,  
And so prevent the danger of my shame,  Cy. 
Lady, how far your usage disagrees,  
From Cyrus' meaning, records be the gods,  
As for myself (not vainly be it said)  
I hold my eyes in bondage to my will,  
And keep my thoughts in yoke to reason love,  
My sight on beauty never surfeited,  
And where her beams were likely to infect,  
My judgement was a vail before mine eyes  
To bear such piercing fancies from my heart,  
Such as I am, such must my followers be,  
Else let them pack they shall not follow me.  
The man that offered to dishonour you,  
shall be so thoroughly chastised for his fault,  
As you shall rest sufficiently revenged,  
and knowledge me a gracious conqueror,  
Histaspis carry her to your pavilion.  Pan. 
So stand the God's assistant to your arms,  
as you stand pitiful to my mishaps.  Exit Histaspis and Panthea. Enter Gobrias, Libanio in woman's attire. Lib. 
My Lord, the gods and fate reserves your page,  
To do you further service ere he dies.  Cy. 
Gobrias goes your page in that attire?  Go. 
My Lord, she is no page of mine.  
Some shameless strumpet and lascivious trull.  Lib. 
And hath my Lord forgot his servant then?  Gob. 
First must I know before I can forget,  
Thee have I neither seen nor known till now.  Lib. 
O say not so my Lord, for oft ere this  
I have been seen and thoroughly known to you,  
And you I know to be my gracious Lord.  
Gobrias that renowned Assyrian.  Gob. 
Fond girl it seems thy wits be not thine own.  Lib. 
What hath my Lord forgot Libanio?  Gob. 
I know thee now thou art my sweet Libanio,  
Thy borrowed habit made me to mistake,  
I know thee now thou art my sweet Libanio,  
A virtuous boy and of a noble spirit,  
To whose deserts and courage I ascribe,  
The rescue of my daughter's liberty,  
O Cyrus this is he that to preserve  
My daughter's freedom from the Assyrian king,  
Chose to disguise himself in her array,  
In fearful doubt and hazard of his life,  
To save her honour from the tyrant's wrath.  Cyr. 
My boy, whate'er thy birth and fortune be,  
Great doth this mind and thoughts of honour taste,  
Expressing marks of true Nobility,  
And to excite thee to commended works,  
which are the paths that to advancement ledes,  
Receive this chain of gold from Cyrus' neck.  
And wear it in the face of all the world,  
Not as a favour to thy person given,  
But as in honour to thy virtuous mind,  Lib. 
Great and surpassing is the kingly grace.  
Yea far beyond the compass of my hope,  
Gods grant me life and fortune to deserve,  
This part of bounty at your royal hands.  Enter Alexandra. Alex. 
Libanio then I have not prayed in vain,  
Nor called upon the gods with frustrate vows,  
If thou once more be rendered to my sight,  
The tears of whose supposed funerals,  
Did hour by hour bedew my blubbered face.  Lib. 
madam, the blessing of my strange escape,  
I attribute alone unto the gods,  
If passed so far the reach of human sense.  Alex. 
And for thy sake their altars I will smoke.  
with sweet perfume of thankful sacrifice.  Cy. 
But boy express in brief what means thou madest  
To scape so safely from th' Assyrian camp  Lib. 
This mean I found and please my Lord & king,  
upon suppose of Alexandra self,  
I was committed to a noble man.  
height Dinon, to be guarded in his tent.  
The glory of my counterfeit attire,  
And manners framed according thereunto,  
Did so inflame Dinon that with my love,  
That waking sleeping, or whatever else,  
He felt a restless combat in his thoughts,  
In fine, more safely to commence his love,  
He led me quite beyond th' Assyrian camp,  
And brought me to the banks of Euphrates,  
There sat we down and he with amorous plea,  
Not only filled, but cloyed my weary ears,  
so far that what with long continued talk,  
And heat of sun reflecting on the banks,  
Or happy with the rattling harmony,  
which Euphrates his gliding streams did keep,  
Which seeing I imagined that the gods  
Had offered this occasion to my hands,  
For sweet recovery of my freedom.  
Short tale to make, with dreadful hand I drew,  
The sword that hanged loose dangling by his side.  
And with the full of my extended force,  
I sheathed it home amidst the owner's ribs,  
He wounded fet an inward groan or two,  
Then turning on his face breathes forth his life,  
The deed dispatched, I hied me thence a main,  
And scaping clean without impeach or stay.  
Now stand before the Persian king this day.  Cyr. 
precedent of manly fortitude,  
Exceeding far the opinion of thy years,  
Gobrias have an honourable care,  Alex. 
Libanio now leave Alexandra's weeds,  
That part is played, and be yourself again,  
That part poor boy with danger thou hast played.  Lib. 
madam, no danger can be so great,  
That I'll refuse for Alexandra's sake,  Cy. 
Gobrias say, is Alexandra she,  
For whom your page these hazards hath sustained?  Gob. 
It is my Lord. Cy. Then let us to your wished for place.  Gob. 
That place O Cyrus I desire to see,  Cy. 
This is the place the men that follow me.  Gob. 
Then wample both my eyes that with this turf,  
I may be sure to hit a virtuous man.  Cy. 
Shall she be his on whom this turf shall light?  Gob. 
So that the man be good and virtuous,  Cy. 
Then throw at random when you please Gobrias,  
You cannot miss a good and virtuous man.  Gob. 
Then Alexandra at thy husband's head.  Cy. 
Histaspis you are hit. Hist. I am my Lord,  Go. 
Then Alexandra if you please is yours.  Hist. 
Happy were I if Alexandra please.  Alex. 
My Lord the fortune of my father's hand,  
Becometh not his daughter to withstand.  
To please my Lord and father I am yours.  Gob. 
Your father's pleased, Histaspis she is yours.  Cy. 
Histaspis take your love at Cyrus' hand,  
this is our guise, and this the Persians do,  
they woo and wed within a word or two. Exeunt.   

Actus tertius.  Enter Antiochus, Hircanus, Aristobulus, and Ctesiphon. Ant. 
No Ctesiphon unsheath thy bloody sword,  
And show it stained and cankered with the gore,  
that issued from that vaunting Persians' heart.  
What draw man, and show thy just conceal.  
thy pay is priest in ready numbered gold,  Cte. 
My Lord and king I bear no bloody sword,  
Nor stained with gore of Persians Cyrus' heart,  
A prince he is far from delight in blood,  
Mild, lovely, virtuous, wise and bountiful,  
Able to reconcile his greatest foes,  
And make great princes of his meanest friends.  Ant. 
Thy going was to compass Cyrus' death.  
How haps thy purpose ends without effect?  Cte. 
The Persian prince inclines to terms of truce,  
and craves the friendship of Antiochus,  
So please my Lord the king to firm a peace,  
For brief whereof his letters I present,  
Signed and delivered with his royal hand,  
Sincerely tending to the same effect,  
Whereto if once your highness condescend,  
He will withdraw his armies from Assyria,  
And on the covenants sealed dissolve his camp.  Ant. 
In case the Persian prince be so inclined,  
thy answer shall less offend my mind.  Cyrus to Antiochus, health, 
This bearer coming to my camp armed with resolution to kill me, and entreated more honourably then either his treachery or thine could deserve. Apprehend Ctesiphon.  Cte. 
What reads my Lord aright, or doth he feign?  Hir. 
That you shall know before you start again.  
Upon the instant purpose of his enterprise, it pleased God to confound him with such horror of conscience, that unconstrained he confessed the treason, & entreated pardon, vowing himself so far forth friend to Cyrus, that for his sake he would kill Antiochus. I was content to soothe the man in his villainy, because I would have thee know the difference twixt an open so & a dissembling friend, I give thee this notice, not because I love thee, or regard thy life but because a villain shall not triumph in the murder of him whom I account an honourable conquest of myself. Reward him according to his merits, & prepare to fight with me for thy own honour. Farewell.  C e. 
These thankless Persian whom I spared from death,  
Requites me with the betraying of my life,  Ant. 
What answer maketh traitorous Ctesiphon?  Cte. 
O prince my guilt is plain before my face,  
And witnessed with a PRINCE's seal,  
To slande upon denial were but vain,  
where open proof convicts me of offence,  
I say no more, but prostrate at your feet,  
Submit myself to mercy of my Lord,  Ant. 
Such mercy as to traitors doth belong,  
Such, and no better Ctesiphon shall find,  
Disarm him of his martial habiliment.  
Disgrade him of all titles of regard,  
And then refer his attachment to your prince,  Hir. 
This coat of arms, the badge of honour won,  
Through praise and virtue of thy ancestors,  
We rent it from that traitorous back of thine,  
And as an honour stained with villainy,  
In deep disdain we stamp it under foot,  Arist. 
This sword that once was girt unto thy side,  
To be employed in service of thy prince,  
Now vowed to gore the bowels of his grace,  
we break it here upon thy traitorous head,  Hir. 
These squares of knighthood that present the pride,  
and honour due, to chivalry and arms,  
whose pricks should force the proud courageous steed  
with thundering race to break the rider's lance,  
Thus do we hew them from thy traitorous heels,  Ant. 
Thou art no man of honour nor of arms,  
Thou hast no title of Gentility,  
Nor style of honour, left hereof to vaunt,  
But art become inferior of regard.  
Then is the basest bondman of Assyria,  
Or vilest slave that haunts the Lydian dames.  Arist. 
Dishonoured traitor, now prepare thyself,  
To yield thy head unto the hangman's axe,  Cte. 
Not fate but my demerits makes me die,  
O now I find Niltutum proditor. Exeunt.  Enter histaspis' Araspas. Ara. 
I fear the fury of the Persian prince,  
Histaspis, Cyrus' fury I do fear,  Hist. 
And wrath of princes, what is it but death?  
Araspas on my honour make a proof,  
And never shun the presence of our Lord,  
A prince he is most mild and merciful,  
Soon mollified with vows and penitence,  
And though with great impatience he endure,  
Your threatened violence to the Susan Queen,  
Yet your submission and desire of grace,  
Will pierce him with compassion of your suit,  
And purchase pardon at his royal hands.  Ara. 
O spiteful beauty that bewitched my mind,  
And led my fancy to such foul extremes,  
I will assay the mercy of my Lord,  
And yield my life to hazard of his grace,  Hist. 
And doubt not but of Cyrus you shall find,  
A pitiful and passing gracious prince.  Enter Cyrus. Cy. 
Histaspis and the rest, with draw yourselves,  
Only Araspas stay behind with me.  Ara. 
My sovereign Lord in trembling fear I stay,  
And prostrate fall before your highness feet,  
The frail affects and errors of my youth,  
Enforced through follies of a wanton will,  
Hath cast my life in peril of your wrath,  
Blinded with charms of beauty I have fallen,  
And made my judgement subject to desire.  
And in pursuit of loves unbridled rage,  
I have transgressed the bounds of honours laws,  
O gracious Lord impute my error past,  
Unto the power of proud commanding love,  
That led my mind and thought so far astray,  
Forgive those frailties of my youth, O king,  
And take your servant once again to grace,  
with fear of your displeasure almost slain.  Cy. 
Force to a Queen, and she a captive too,  
A Persian Lord so far misled with lust,  
Intend dishonour to a silly dame,  
Araspas they that would be conquerors,  
Should chiefly learn to conquer their desire,  
lest while they seek dominion over others,  
They prove but slaves and bondmen to themselves.  
Now where are those your big and brave disputes,  
Wherein you pleaded love was voluntary,  
And fancy left and entertained at will,  
When you embrace it in such raging heat,  
That where entreaties fail of your desires,  
You fall from vows to violence with the dame,  
Araspas for the excuse of this offence,  
You find no precedent in Cyrus' life  Ara. 
I know and grant my Lord, the prince abounds  
with peerless gifts and graces of the mind,  
wherewith the gods have filled his kingly breast,  
There nought but virtuous motions taketh root,  
Nothing but honour harbours in that seat,  
And holy thoughts direct his royal deeds.  
That so his grace might every way be found,  
worthy the glory of so high a charge,  
Yet since these frailties that disgrace your thrall,  
are human faults and incident to mind,  
Where strong desires hold reason under yoke,  
The wonted mercy of my Lord the prince,  
So prone in favour to the penitent,  
May mitigate the shame of this my fault.  
With sweet compassion to his PRINCE's thrall.  Cyr. 
Araspas I remit thee this amiss,  
although blame worthy in the highest degree,  
and for your tried deserts in martial praise,  
I am content this folly to forget,  
Yet would I have it seem unto the world,  
That my displeasure made you fly from me,  
And so revolted to the Assyrian arms,  
There this suppose shall make you entertained,  
and highly favoured of that graceless king,  
By means whereof ull safely you may learn,  
The garrison and strength of Babylon,  
The utmost force and puissance of our foes,  
With every purpose of Antiochus,  
The time and place where he intents to fight,  
Then having learned the full of every thing,  
In secret you may scape again to me.  
With just relation of the' Assyrian camp.  
This service if you please to undertake,  
You shall effect a singular good turn,  
and reap mortal thanks at Cyrus' hands.  Ara. 
No longer let Araspas live and breath,  
Then with the utmost venture of his life,  
He will perform what Cyrus shall command.  
And sacred price for this extended grace,  
Though in the compass of this hard affair,  
I leave th' Assyrian faction to maintain,  
yet vow to bear a trusty Persian heart.  Cy. 
Then go with fortune, and return with health  
and grant the gods this enterprise of thine,  
May end and prosper with desired effect.  Ara. 
And grant the gods that Cyrus still may live,  
happy in peace, and in arms victorious.  Cy. 
To pacify the angry Panthea's mood,  
I will persuade her of araspas' flight.  
That he is revolted to the Assyrian king. Enter Panthea.  Pan. 
Ready the humble handmaid of my Lord.  Cyr. 
To calm the heat of your offended mind,  
Thus have I lost as brave a warrior,  
As ever trod upon the Persian fields.  Pan. 
What warrior means my Lord and conqueror?  Cy. 
Araspas, who in fear of my displeasure,  
I fled from me unto th' Assyrian camp,  
And hath forsook the Persians colours quite,  
Thus madame for your sake hath Cyrus done,  
Even lost the worthiest soldier of his band.  Pan. 
Cyrus let not his loss perplex your mind,  
If you will let me send a messenger,  
Unto my Lord and husband Abradates,  
I know for these your princely favours done,  
To me his wife in this my captives plight,  
He will attend your fortune in the wars.  
With more sincere affection, love and zeal,  
Then ever that ungracious person did.  
Again, my Lord my husband is a knight,  
As forward treads, and fortunate in arms,  
As ever spread his colours in the field.  Cyr. 
Is it likely Abradatus will forsake,  
His native prince to follow for rain arms,  Pan. 
The father of this king by Cyrus slain,  
was highly loved and honoured of my Lord,  
This now that reigns affected Panthea's bed,  
Sought to procure a most unjust divorce,  
Betwixt my best beloved Lord and me,  
who therefore bears him an immortal hate,  
The stars of which incurable despite,  
Remain so deep imprinted in his thought,  
That ten times blessed would he think himself,  
To find a fit occasion for revenge.  Cy. 
Believe me Madam, if your Lord be armed,  
With such sore grounded malice to the prince,  
His help may greatly further my affairs,  
And therefore if you can procure the man,  
To stand assistant to the Persian arms,  
You shall deserve great thanks at Cyrus' hand,  Pan. 
Cyrus, I will presume to make my Lord  
A trusty follower of the Persian arms,  
And him your highness shall not fail to find,  
A noble friend and valiant gentleman.  Cy. 
And Madam, he shall want at Cyrus' hands,  
No praise, nor honour due to good deserts. Exeunt.   

Actus quartus.  Enter Antiochus, Araspas, and Nobles. Ant. 
r Aaspas though thy birth and parentage,  
Seem deadly to the Assyrian ears,  
Being descended of our chiefest foes,  
who purchased gentry by our overthrow,  
And in their insignes bear the Assyrian arms,  
Yet seeing thou comest as confederate,  
In token that I love and honour thee,  
Receive this sword, and fight courageously.  Ara. 
Antiochus I'll wear it for thy sake,  
And for the wrong that Cyrus offered me,  
Unless my destiny prevent my drift,  
I'll quickly handsel it with Cyrus' blood.  Nob. 
Wherein hath Cyrus wronged thee Persian say.  Ard. 
In barring me of her whom I esteem,  
Above the value of his Diadem.  
Panthea my Lord.  Ant. 
What Panthea, abradates' wife?  Ara. 
I lovely Panthea abradates' wife,  Ant. 
Speak not of Panthea if thou lovest me,  
For her remembrance wounds my heart afresh,  Nob. 
His grace is always passionate and sad,  
If she be mentioned, therefore name her not.  Ara, 
Not that alone, but many injuries,  
Incensed me to attempt his overthrow,  
For in the field wherein your father fell,  
I got rich armour, gold, and sumptuous tents,  
all which he took unto his proper use,  
and gave unto his special favourites,  
Nor had I where withal at Cyrus' hands,  
To heal those wounds which I received in fight.  Ant. 
Then see thou make as deep wounds in his flesh,  
And so cry quittance with the covetous king,  
I give thee to this sword, armour and horse,  
a horse as fierce as proud Bucephalus,  
armour of trustier proof than Thetis found,  
Therefore Araspas fight courageously.  Ara. 
Albeit I have not Alexander's skill,  
To manage him, nor yet Achilles' arms,  
to charge as bravely, yet as good a heart,  
as Alexander or Achilles ever had.  
And when I shrink for fear out of the field,  
Let me be torn in pieces with that horse,  
Or hewed to death with this bright cortelaux,  Ant. 
Thy words Araspas 'tice me to the field,  
and makes me think I shall be conqueror,  
Come let us march from wealthy Babylon,  
and then towards Cyrus with our royal camp. Exeunt.  Enter Panthea, and Cyrus. Pan. 
My husband mighty Lord, from Bactria,  
Where he lay legar for th' Assyrian king,  
Is come to serve under your highness flags,  
and in your aid hath brought two thousand horse,  
Backed by his friends Assyrian Gentlemen.  
all which will die at conquering Cyrus feet.  Cy. 
Is Abradates come from Bactria,  
Then will I leave to moan Araspas loss,  
and think on conquest and sweet victory?  
Gobrias go with lovely Panthea,  
and bring him presently unto our tent,  
With those brave horsemen of Assyria,  
You warlike and victorious men,  
Marshal your several bands in equipage,  
That Abradates king of Susia,  
May wonder at the hugeness of our camp,  
and be the willinger to league with us. Enter Abradates with other.  
Here he comes, and if by his aspect,  
I may conjecture of his qualities,  
He is valiant, wise, trusty and liberal,  Ab. 
I need not ask which is the Persian king,  
The virtues shining in his glorious looks,  
Say this is Cyrus, and in sign of love,  
will Abradates thus salute his grace,  Cy. 
Sweet Abradates thou embracing me,  
Hath stolen my heart, I love and honour thee,  Ab. 
Fair Lord was never captive gentler used,  
Than Panthea of this gracious conqueror.  
For Panthea, Cyrus I and this my train,  
Of which the meanest soldier may take charge,  
and be commander of a camp of men,  
So able, wise and venturous they are,  
Doth rest for ever at your highness beck,  
Our horses which are grazing on the plain,  
In winter gallops, and in icy seas,  
and in the summer swims the deepest streams,  
Swifter are they in pace then lightfoot Hart,  
Surer they are then Camels plodding on the ways,  
Fiercer than Tigers, and as  
Elephants with Castles on their backs,  
And if they were compassed with arming pikes,  
They knew which way to make their passage forth,  
And when their sides is painted eke with blood,  
they pull their reins, and looks down to the ground  
As if they vaunted of their service done,  
The rider being dismounted they stand still,  
And kneel upon the ground to take him up,  
But if he chance to die, they pine to death.  
These are Cyrus and the riders too,  
Soldiers as good as ever sun beheld,  Cyr. 
These horses thou speakest of makes me glory more,  
Than Lydian Croesus in his heaps of gold,  
And of them all doth Cyrus make account,  
As of the strengths and sinews of the war,  
We have intelligence the Assyrian king  
Is come from Babylon to meet us straight,  
Therefore if Abradates favour us,  
Mount and away for we'll assail them first.  Abra. 
For that comes Abradates, let's away.  Pan. 
But Abradates I will arm thee first,  
Seest thou these pouldrons they are gold,  
These vanbraces and cuirasses massy gold,  
The gorget and thy helmet beaten gold,  
The belt embroidered gold, yet all too base,  
For Abradate lovelier than the gold,  
May never spear be broken on this breast,  
But that the point thereof may soon return,  
And strike him dead that durst to give that charge,  
This helmet shun thee from the sling sand darts,  
This kiss make thee turn with victory,  
As for this garland made of lofty palm,  
Panthea reserves it for her conquering Lord,  
Upon whose head will Panthea fasten it,  
And hanging on hit neck like Hector's wife,  
Inquire the manner of the battle past.  Abr. 
Fair be my fortune for my Panthea,  Hist. 
My Lord Araspas in th' Assyrian arms,  
Doth crave success unto your Majesty.  Cy. 
Araspas, let him come, he is our friend.  
And brings us tidings from our enemies. Enter Araspas.  Ara. 
Health unto the person of my gracious lord.  Cyr. 
Welcome Araspas, brings thou cheerful news?  
Is Antiochus resolved to fight?  Ara. 
This day he means to encounter with your host.  Cy. 
What is the number of his fighting men?  Ara. 
In all two hundred thousand at the least,  
And thus in order lies his noble camp.  
The forefront is ten chariots,  
Of purpose to disrank the approaching so.  
Next them are fifty thousand horsemen placed,  
To break in where the chariots break the way,  
Next them five thousand staves being lightly  
laden with spears, helmet, naked sword,  
To go along to serve the horsemen's use.  
Then twenty thousand Scythians runagates,  
with venomed darts, whose heads are tipped with steel,  
And last the battle of th' Assyrians,  
Being hedged with lances, as a wood with briars.  
On whose heads the cross bows and the slings,  
will shoot and throw bullets of massy iron,  
Whose very fall would strike Aclipos down,  
In midst whereof Antiochus will march,  
Before whom do a thousand bondmen draw  
A brazen wall built upon turning wheels,  
To guard him sure and his concubine,  
All these upon my honour I a duer.  Cy. 
If every soldier had a wall of brass,  
It could not daunt us, we are resolute,  
And vowed and sworn unto our sword,  
which teacheth us to scorn a brazen wall.  Abr. 
Renowned Cyrus, honour me thus far,  
To have the leading of your vanguard forth.  Hist. 
Nay it belongs unto a Persian.  Ara. 
If to a Persian, it belongs to me.  Hist. 
I served Astyages your highness sire.  
But if a stranger may deserve the place,  
I hope my serving merits it my lord.  Pan 
My husband is a king, Cyrus I hope  
will therefore grant it, if not for desert,  Cy. 
Had I four to encounter with,  
you all should lead the vanguard of the field,  
But only one must have the charge,  
Though all deserve it, therefore draw you all.  All. 
Content.  Cy. 
Crysantas make the lots.  Hist. 
Pardon me Cyrus though I do repine,  
why should we draw lots for our proper right?  Cy. 
I'll have it so, Histaspis be content.  Cry. 
The lots are ready.  Cy. 
Histaspis I command thee to begin,  
Now Abradates and the rest.  Abr. 
Fortune hath favoured me, the lot is mine.  Cy. 
Then thou shalt lead the forefront, let us match,  Ara. 
The enemy is near, make haste my Lord.  Cy. 
Here Abradates, Cyrus placeth thee,  
Lead warily, and fight courageously.  Abr. 
As mine own life so tender I these men,  
Now to the battle, Panthea Farewell. Exeunt.  Enter Panthea and Nicasia. Pan. 
Farewell, and my good angel follow thee,  
And every star that reigned when I was borne,  
Whose influence hath kept me yet from harm,  
Unfortunate be to make thee blessed.  Ni. 
And misery cease on Nicasia,  
So Abradates be kept from harm.  Pan. 
Ye Persian Deities for Cyrus' sake,  
Assyrian Gods for abradates' sake,  
Give victory unto the Persians,  
That I may see my husband wear this wreath.  Ni. 
Madam, Bellona's shrine is hear at hand,  
O let us go to offer sacrifice,  
To make her more propitious to his grace,  
For now he is amongst th' Assyrian troops.  Pan. 
I'll offer all my jewels on the shrine,  
And make sweet fumes of Ambergris and Myrrh,  
Of Indian Cassia, Musk and Frankincense,  
That Abradates may be conqueror,  
First at her altar let us jointly sing,  
For music is a sacrifice to her.   

Actus quintus,  Enter Cyrus. Panthea, and the army. Pan. 
Great lords to whom the Assyrian sceptre yields  
and Babylon through right of victory,  
Lies open to those conquering swords of yours,  
How fares my lord, my lord and loving fear,  
My Abradates, lives he conqueror,  
Or left by destiny numbered with the dead?  Cy. 
Fair Lady, virtuous, chaste, and amiable,  
I trust your love among the living dwells,  
and like a champion and a knight at arms,  
will show himself or many hours expire,  
His temples adorned with victorious palm.  Pan. 
When to the sight my lord addressed his bands  
Devoutly entered I Belona's fame,  
And there before the altar of the Saint,  
Perfumed the air with smoke of holy fire,  
And breathed forth my plaints and eke my moans,  
Thrice I me seemed the Goddess turned her face,  
Offending-like frowning with angry brows,  
Against my prayers and my holy vows,  
O Cyrus, if my jealous thoughts divine,  
Some dismal sequel to this fantasy,  
Yet pardon me seeing women's wits are weak,  
And loves abounds with superstitious fear.  Cy. 
Madam, I trust the presence of your Lord,  
Returning back in triumph and renown,  
Shall soon remove those thoughts out of your mind,  
So grant the Gods my country's presidents,  Abradates borne in dead. Cy. 
What slaughtered body do you Persians bring?  Captain. 
Cyrus the body of the Susian king,  
Stout Abradates by the Egyptians slain.  Pan. 
Now let my Lord the prince of Persia judge,  
whether unhappy Panthea feared in vain,  
O noble love whose manly heart deserved,  
To joy the benefit of longer life,  
And richer Trophies to enlarge the same.  
But tell us now after what sort he died?  Cap. 
Mounted aloft his chariot armed with scythes,  
Beating the strong Egyptians down,  
A few of his familiar trusty friends,  
With dreadful race insist his chariot Wheels,  
While the other in the battle turning back,  
Abandoned him among the Egyptian pikes,  
Yet Abradates with the few remained,  
By force and virtue of his puissant hand,  
Sends thousand of the heathenish foes to hell,  
Till at the last dismounted from his seat,  
And round environed with his enemies,  
After so many mortal wounds received,  
He fell and yielded up his kingly ghost.  
The Egyptians as their barbarous custom is,  
when he was dead cut off his stout right hand,  
And left it lying by the breathless corpse.  
But with a band of Persian men at arms,  
we rescued him, and brought him to your grace,  
Here to receive such worthy funerals,  
As fits the honour of so great a Lord.  Pan. 
Now Euphrates whose sad and hollow banks,  
Have sucked the sum of abradates' blood:  
which from his wounds did issue with his life,  
Now cease thy course of thy disdained tears,  
And let thy courage turn against the tide,  
Of mere remorse of wretched Panthea's plaints.  
Is this the hand that plighted faith to me,  
The hand, that aye hath managed kingly arms,  
And brought whole troops of mighty warriors down,  
Now 'scended from the body of my Lord,  
Clean void of feeling, sense and vital breath,  
So Gods and cruel destinies command,  
Malignant of poor Panthea's happiness.  
Live Cyrus. You Lords of Persia,  
Command my honour to posterity,  
That ages hence the world report may make,  
That Panthea died for abradates' sake. She stabs herself.  Nic. 
Gone is my Lady peerless Panthea.  
Slain with self grief for abradates' sake,  
Nicasia loathes to live when she is gone,  
The pride and Phoenix of Assyria,  
I'll not presume to touch the fatal steel,  
Wherein my lady's sacred blood do smoke,  
Receive me in thy bowels Euphrates,  
And let thy bottom be nicasia's grave.  Enter Cyrus, Araspas, and Gobrias, to Abradates dead Cy. 
O Persians see if any breath remaineth.  Ara. 
Cyrus alas all sense of feeling is gone,  
His senseless limbs with stiffness overgrown,  
No rubbing warming, aught availeth us,  
But pale death sits as conqueror over him.  Let Araspas kneel down by Abradates. Cy. 
Mirror of honour and true Nobility,  
No age, no time shall ever raze thy fame,  
Whilst Euphrates doth keep his running stream.  
What Abradates, and chaste Panthea too,  
O Abradates worthy man at arms,  
O Panthea chaste virtuous and amiable,  
This office Cyrus to your wandering ghost,  
Reserves in store to grace your funerals,  
with monuments of fatal Ebony,  
Of Cedar, Marble, let, and during brass,  
That future worlds and infants yet unborn,  
May kiss your tombs wherein your bodies lie,  
And wonder at the virtues of your mind,  
Assyrian Lord, such honour thou shalt have,  
As never had Assyrian at his grave.  
Six hundred head of cattle shall be slain,  
And sacrificed upon the funerals day.  
twelve thousand horses being manned each one,  
Trapped all in black shall go before thy hearse,  
The towered battlements of Babylon,  
Bend in contempt of heaven and earth, and men,  
Those marks of pride shall be abated down,  
To make a show of mourning for thy death.  
Such honour as you both received in life,  
Such honour shall you both receive in death.   
FINIS.