POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS, WITH THE SOPHY.  
Written by the Honourable Sir JOHN DENHAM Knight of the Bath.  
LONDON, Printed for H. Herringman at the Sign of the Blue-anchor in the Lower-Walk of the New-Exchange. 1668.   

To the King.  
Sir,  
AFter the delivery of your Royal Father's Person into the hands of the Army, I undertaking to the Queen Mother, that I would find some means to get access to him, she was pleased to send me, and by the help of Hugh Peter I got my admittance, and coming well instructed from the Queen (his Majesty having been long kept in the dark) he was pleased to discourse very freely with me of the whole state of his Affairs: But Sir, I will not launch into a History, instead of an Epistle. One morning waiting on him at Causham, smiling upon me, he said he could tell me some news of myself, which was that he had seen some Verses of mine the evening before (being those to Sir R. Fanshaw) and ask me when I made them, I told him two or three years since; he was pleased to say, that having never seen them before, He was afraid I had written them since my return into England, and though he liked them well, he would advise me to write no more, alleging, that when men are young, and have little else to do, they might vent the overflowings of their Fancy that way, but when they were thought fit for more serious Employments, if they still persisted in that course, it would look, as if they minded not the way to any better.  
Whereupon I stood corrected as long as I had the honour to wait upon him, and at his departure from Hampton Court, he was pleased to command me to stay privately at London, to send to him and receive from him all his Letters from and to all his Correspondents at home and abroad, and I was furnished with nine several Ciphers in order to it: Which trust I performed with great safety to the persons with whom we corresponded; but about nine months after being discovered by their knowledge of Mr. Cowleys hand, I happily escaped both for myself, and those that held correspondence with me; that time was too hot and busy for such idle speculations, but after I had the good fortune to wait upon your Majesty in Holland and France, you were pleased sometimes to give me arguments to divert and put off the evil hours of our banishment, which now and then fell not short of your Majesty's expectation.  
After, when your Majesty departing from St. germans to Jersey, was pleased freely (without my ask) to confer upon me that place wherein I have now the honour to serve you, I then gave over Poetical lines, and made it my business to draw such others às might be more serviceable to your Majesty, and I hope more lasting. Since that time I never disobeyed my old Master's commands till this Summer at the Wells, my retirement there tempting me to divert those melancholy thoughts, which the new apparitions of Foreign invasion, and domestic discontent gave us: But these clouds being now happily blown over, and our Sun clearly shining out again, I have recovered the relapse, it being suspected that it would have proved the Epidemical disease of age, which is apt to fall back into the follies in youth, yet Socrates, Aristotle, and Cato did the same, and Scaliger saith that Fragment of Aristotle, was beyond any thing that Pindar or Homer ever wrote. I will not call this a Dedication, for those Epistles are commonly greater absurdities than any that come after, for what Author can reasonably believe, that fixing the great name of some eminent Patron in the forehead of his book can charm away censure, and that the first leaf should be a curtain to draw over and hide all the deformities that stand behind it? neither have I any need of such shifts, for most of the parts of this body have already had Your, Majesties view, and having past the Test of so clear and sharp-sighted a judgement, which has as good a Title to give Law in Matters of this Nature as in any other, they who shall presume to descent from Your Majesty, will do more wrong to their own judgement, than their judgement can do to me: And for those latter Parts which have not yet received Your Majesty's favourable Aspect, if they who have seen them do not flatter me, (for I dare not trust my own judgement) they will make it appear, that it is not with me as with most of mankind, who never forsake their darling vices, till their vices forsake them; and that this Divorce was not Frigiditatis causâ, but an Act of Choice, and not of Necessity. Therefore, Sir, I shall only call it an humble Petition, that Your Majesty will please to pardon this new amour to my old Mistress, and my disobedience to his Commands, to whose memory I look up with great Reverence and Devotion, and making a serious reflection upon that wise Advice, it carries much greater weight with it now, than when it was given, for when age and experience has so ripened man's discretion as to make it fit for use, either in private or public Affairs, nothing blasts and corrupts the fruit of it so much as the empty, airy reputation of being Nimis Poeta, and therefore I shall take my leave of the Muses, as two of my Predecessors did, saying  
Splendidis longum vale dico nugis,  
Hic versus & caetera ludicra pono.  
Your Majesty's most faithful and loyal Subject, and most dutiful and devoted servant Io. Denham.   

THE TABLE.  

Coopers' Hill. 1  
The Destruction of Troy, an Essay on the second Book of Virgil's Aeneis. 31  
On the Earl of Strafford's Trial and Death. 65  
On my Lord Crosts and my journey into Poland, from whence we brought 10000l. for his Majesty by the Decimation of his Scottish Subjects there. 67  
On Mr. Tho. Killigrew's return from his Embassy from Venice, and Mr. William Murry's from Scotland. 70  
To Sir John Mennis, being invited from Calais to Bologne to eat a Pig. 73  
Natura Naturata. 76  
Sarpedon's Speech to Glaucus in the 12. of Homer. 78  
Marshal. Epigram. Out of an Epigram of Martial. 80  
Friendship and single life against Love and Marriage. 82  
On Mr. Abraham Cowley his death and burial amongst the Ancient Poets. 89  
A Speech against Peace at the Close Committee. 95  
To the five Members of the honourable House of Commons.  
The Humble Petition of the Poets. 101  
A Western Wonder. 105  
A second Western Wonder. 107  
News from Colchester, or, A proper new Ballad of certain Carnal passages betwixt a Quaker and a Colt, at Horsly near Colchester in Essex. 109  
A Song. 115  
On Mr. John Fletcher's Works. 116  
To Sir Richard Fanshaw upon his Translation of Pastor Fido. 119  
A Dialogue between Sir John Pooley and Mr. Thomas Killigrew. 122  
An occasional imitation of a modern Author upon the Game of Chess. 126  
The Passion of Dido for Aeneas. 128  
Of Prudence. 147  
Of justice.. 163  
The Progress of Learning. 172  
The Sophy, a Tragedy.    

Cooper's Hill.  
SUre there are Poets which did never dream  
Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream  
Of Helicon, we therefore may suppose  
Those made not Poets, but the Poets those,  
And as Courts make not Kings, but Kings the Court,  
So where the Muses & their train resort,  
Parnassus stands; if I can be to thee  
A Poet, thou Parnassus art to me.  
Nor wonder, if (advantaged in my flight,  
By taking wing from thy auspicious height)  
Through untraced ways, and airy paths I fly,  
More boundless in my Fancy than my eye:  
My eye, which swift as thought contracts the space  
That lies between, and first salutes the place  
Crowned with that sacred pile, so vast, so high,  
That whether 'tis a part of Earth, or sky,  
Uncertain seems, and may be thought a proud  
Aspiring mountain, or descending cloud,  
Paul's, 
M. W.  the late theme of such a Muse whose flight  
Has bravely reached and soared above thy height:  
Now shalt thou stand though sword, or time, or fire,  
Or zeal more fierce than they, thy fall conspire,  
Secure, whilst thee the best of Poets sings,  
Preserved from ruin by the best of Kings.  
Under his proud survey the City lies,  
And like a mist beneath a hill doth rise;  
Whose state and wealth the business and the crowd,  
Seems at this distance but a darker cloud:  
And is to him who rightly things esteems,  
No other in effect than what it seems:  
Where, with like haste, though several ways, they run  
Some to undo, and some to be undone;  
While luxury, and wealth, like war and peace,  
Are each the others ruin, and increase;  
As Rivers lost in Seas some secret vein  
Thence reconveighs, there to be lost again.  
Oh happiness of sweet retired content!  
To be at once secure, and innocent.  
Windsor the next (where Mars with Venus dwells. 
Windsor.   
Beauty with strength) above the Valley swells  
Into my eye, and doth itself present  
With such an easy and unforced ascent,  
That no stupendious precipice denies  
Access, no horror turns away our eyes:  
But such a Rise, as doth at once invite  
A pleasure, and a reverence from the sight.  
Thy mighty Master's Emblem, in whose face  
Sat meekness, heightened with Majestic Grace  
Such seems thy gentle height, made only proud  
To be the basis of that pompous load,  
Than which, a nobler weight no Mountain bears,  
But Atlas only that supports the Spheres.  
When Natures hand this ground did thus advance,  
'Twas guided by a wiser power than Chance;  
Marked out for such a use, as if 'twere meant  
T' invite the builder, and his choice prevent.  
Nor can we call it choice, when what we choose,  
Folly, or blindness only could refuse.  
A Crown of such Majestic towers doth Grace  
The Gods great Mother, when her heavenly race  
Do homage to her, yet she cannot boast  
Amongst that numerous, and Celestial host,  
More Hero's than can Windsor, nor doth Fame's  
Immortal book record more noble names.  
Not to look back so far, to whom this Isle  
Owes the first Glory of so brave a pile,  
Whether to Caesar, Albanact, or Brute,  
The British Arthur, or the Danish Knute,  
(Though this of old no less contest did move,  
Then when for Homer's birth seven Cities strove)  
(Like him in birth, thou shouldst be like in fame '  
As thine his fate, if mine had been his Flame)  
But whosoe'er it was, Nature designed  
First a brave place, and then as brave a mind.  
Not to recount those several Kings, to whom  
It gave a Cradle, or to whom a Tomb,  
But thee (great Edward) and thy greater son, 
Edward the third, and the Black Prince.   
(The lilies which his Father wore, he won)  
And thy Bellona, 
Queen Philip.  who the Consort came  
Not only to thy Bed, but to thy Fame,  
She to thy Triumph led one Captive King, 
The Kings of France and Scotland.   
And brought that son, which did the second bring.  
Then didst thou found that Order (whither love  
Or victory thy Royal thoughts did move)  
Each was a noble cause, and nothing less,  
Than the design, has been the great success:  
Which foreign Kings, and Emperors esteem  
The second honour to their Diadem.  
Had thy great Destiny but given thee skill,  
To know as well, as power to act her will,  
That from those Kings, who then thy captives were,  
In aftertimes should spring a Royal pair  
Who should possess all that thy mighty power,  
Or thy desires more mighty, did devour;  
To whom their better Fate reserves what ere  
The Victor hopes for, or the Vanquished fear;  
That blood, which thou and thy great Grandsire shed,  
And all that since these sister Nations bled,  
Had been unspilled, had happy Edward known  
That all the blood he spilt, had been his own.  
When he that Patron chose, in whom are joined  
Soldier and Martyr, and his arms confined  
Within the Azure Circle, he did seem  
But to foretell, and prophesy of him,  
Who to his Realms that Azure round hath joined,  
Which Nature for their bound at first designed.  
That bound, which to the World's extremest ends,  
Endless itself, its liquid arms extends;  
Nor doth he need those Emblems which we (paint,  
But is himself the Soldier and the Saint.  
Here should my wonder dwell, & here my praise,  
But my fixed thoughts my wand'ring eye betrays,  
Viewing a neighbouring hill, whose top of late  
A Chapel crowned, till in the Common Fate,  
The adjoining Abbey fell: (may no such storm  
Fall on our times, where ruin must reform.)  
Tell me (my Muse) what monstrous dire offence,  
What crime could any Christian King incense  
To such a rage? was't Luxury, or Lust?  
Was he so temperate, so chaste, so just?  
Were these their crimes? they were his own much more:  
But wealth is Crime enough to him that's poor,  
Who having spent the Treasures of his Crown,  
Condemns their Luxury to feed his own.  
And yet this Act, to varnish o'er the shame  
Of sacrilege, must bear devotions name.  
No Crime so bold, but would be understood  
A real, or at least a seeming good.  
Who fears not to do ill, yet fears the Name,  
And free from Conscience, is a slave to Fame.  
Thus he the Church at once protects, & spoils:  
But Prince's swords are sharper than their styles.  
And thus to th' ages passed he makes amends,  
Their Charity destroys, their Faith defends.  
Then did Religion in a lazy Cell,  
In empty, airy contemplations dwell;  
And like the block, unmoved lay: but ours,  
As much too active, like the stork devours.  
Is there no temperate Region can be known,  
Betwixt their Frigid, and our Torrid Zone?  
Could we not wake from that Lethargic dream,  
But to be restless in a worse extreme?  
And for that Lethargy was there no cure,  
But to be cast into a Calenture?  
Can knowledge have no bound, but must advance  
So far, to make us wish for ignorance?  
And rather in the dark to grope our way,  
Than led by a false guide to err by day?  
Who sees these dismal heaps, but would demand  
What barbarous Invader sacked the land?  
But when he hears, no Goth, no Turk did bring  
This desolation, but a Christian King;  
When nothing, but the Name of Zeal, appears  
'Twixt our best actions and the worst of theirs,  
What does he think our Sacrilege would spare,  
When such th' effects of our devotions are?  
Parting from thence 'twixt anger, shame, & fear,  
Those for what's past, & this for what's too near:  
My eye descending from the Hill, surveys  
Where Thames 
Thames.  amongst the wanton valleys strays.  
Thames, the most loved of all the Ocean's sons,  
By his old Sire to his embraces runs,  
Hasting to pay his tribute to the Sea,  
Like mortal life to meet Eternity.  
Though with those streams he no resemblance hold,  
Whose foam is Amber, and their Gravel Gold;  
His genuine, and less guilty wealth t' explore,  
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore;  
o'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing,  
And hatches plenty for th' ensuing Spring.  
Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay,  
Like Mothers which their Infants overly.  
Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave,  
Like profuse Kings, resumes the wealth he gave.  
No unexpected inundations spoil  
The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's toil:  
But Godlike his unwearied Bounty flows;  
First loves to do, then loves the Good he does.  
Nor are his Blessings to his banks confined,  
But free, and common, as the Sea or Wind;  
When he to boast, or to disperse his stores  
Full of the tributes of his grateful shores,  
Visits the world, and in his flying towers  
Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours;  
Finds wealth where 'tis, bestows it where it wants  
Cities in deserts, woods in Cities plants.  
So that to us no thing, no place is strange,  
While his fair bosom is the world's exchange.  
O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream  
My great example, as it is my theme!  
Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull,  
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full.  
Heaven her Eridanus no more shall boast,  
Whose Fame in thine, like lesser Currents lost,  
Thy Nobler streams shall visit Jove's abodes,  
To shine amongst the Stars, and bathe the Gods, 
The Forest.   
Here Nature, whether more intent to please  
Us or herself, with strange varieties,  
(For things of wonder give no less delight  
To the wise Maker's, than beholder's sight.  
Though these delights from several causes move  
For so our children, thus our friends we love)  
Wisely she knew, the harmony of things,  
As well as that of sounds, from discords springs.  
Such was the discord, which did first disperse  
Form, order, beauty through the Universe;  
While dryness moisture, coldness heat resists,  
All that we have, and that we are, subsists.  
While the steep horrid roughness of the Wood  
Strives with the gentle calmness of the flood.  
Such huge extremes when Nature doth unite,  
Wonder from thence results, from thence delight  
The stream is so transparent, pure, and clear,  
That had the self-enamoured youth 
Narcissus.  gazed here,  
So fatally deceived he had not been,  
While he the bottom, not his face had seen.  
But his proud head the airy Mountain hides  
Among the Clouds; his shoulders, and his sides  
A shady mantle clothes; his curled brows  
Frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows,  
While winds and storms his lofty forehead beat:  
The common fate of all that's high or great.  
Low at his foot a spacious plain is placed,  
Between the mountain and the stream embraced:  
Which shade and shelter from the Hill derives,  
While the kind river wealth and beauty gives;  
And in the mixture of all these appears  
Variety, which all the rest indears.  
This scene had some bold Greek, or British Bard  
Beheld of old, what stories had we heard,  
Of Fairies, Satyrs, and the Nymphs their Dames,  
Their feasts, their revels, & their amorous flames  
'Tis still the same, although their airy shape  
All but a quick Poetic sight escape.  
There Faunus and Sylvanus keep their Courts,  
And thither all the horned host resorts,  
To graze the ranker mead, that noble heard  
On whose sublime and shady fronts is reared  
Nature's great Masterpiece; to show how soon  
Great things are made, but sooner are undone.  
Here have I seen the King, when great affairs  
Give leave to slacken, and unbend his cares,  
Attended to the Chase by all the flower  
Of youth, whose hopes a Nobler prey devour:  
Pleasure with Praise, & danger, they would buy,  
And wish a foe that would not only fly.  
The stag now conscious of his fatal Growth,  
At once indulgent to his fear and sloth,  
To some dark covert his retreat had made,  
Where nor man's eye, nor heavens should invade  
His soft repose; when th' unexpected sound  
Of dogs, and men, his wakeful ear doth wound.  
Roused with the noise, he scarce believes his ear,  
Willing to think th' illusions of his fear  
Had given this false Alarm, but strait his view  
Confirm, that more than all he fears is true.  
Betrayed in all his strengths, the wood beset,  
All instruments, all Arts of ruin met;  
He calls to mind his strength, and then his speed,  
His winged heels, and then his armed head;  
With these t'avoid, with that his Fate to meet:  
But fear prevails, and bids him trust his feet.  
So fast he flies, that his reviewing eye  
Has lost the chasers, and his ear the cry;  
Exulting, till he finds, their Nobler sense  
Their disproportioned speed does recompense.  
Then curses his conspiring feet, whose scent  
Betrays that safety which their swiftness lent.  
Then tries his friends, among the base herd,  
Where he so lately was obeyed, and feared,  
His safety seeks: the herd, unkindly wise,  
Or chases him from thence, or from him flies.  
Like a declining Statesman, left forlorn  
To his friend's pity, and pursuers scorn,  
With shame remembers, while himself was one  
Of the same herd, himself the same had done.  
Thence to the coverts, & the conscious Groves,  
The scenes of his past triumphs, and his loves;  
Sadly surveying where he ranged alone  
Prince of the soil, and all the herd his own;  
And like a bold Knight Errand did proclaim  
Combat to all, and bore away the Dame;  
And taught the woods to echo to the stream  
His dreadful challenge, and his clashing beam.  
Yet faintly now declines the fatal strife;  
So much his love was dearer than his life.  
Now every leaf, and every moving breath  
Presents a foe, and every foe a death.  
Wearied, forsaken, and pursued, at last  
All safety in despair of safety placed,  
Courage he thence resumes, resolved to bear  
All their assaults, since 'tis in vain to fear.  
And now too late he wishes for the fight  
That strength he wasted in Ignoble flight:  
But when he sees the eager chase renewed,  
Himself by dogs, the dogs by men pursued:  
He strait revokes his bold resolve, and more  
Reputes his courage, than his fear before;  
Finds that uncertain ways unsafest are,  
And Doubt a greater mischief than Despair.  
Then to the stream, when neither friends, nor force,  
Nor speed, nor Art avail, he shapes his course;  
Thinks not their rage so desperate t' assay  
An Element more merciless than they.  
But fearless they pursue, nor can the flood  
Quench their dire thirst; alas, they thirst for blood.  
So towards a Ship the oarefined Galleys ply,  
Which wanting Sea to ride, or wind to fly,  
Stands but to fall revenged on those that dare  
Tempt the last fury of extreme despair.  
So fares the Stagg among th' enraged Hounds,  
Repels their force, and wounds returns for wounds.  
And as a Hero, whom his base foes  
In troops surround, now these assails, now those,  
Though prodigal of life, disdains to die  
By common hands; but if he can descry  
Some nobler foes approach, to him he calls,  
And begs his Fate, and then contented falls.  
So when the King a mortal shaft le's fly  
From his unerring hand, then glad to die,  
Proud of the wound, to it resigns his blood,  
And stains the Crystal with a Purple flood.  
This a more Innocent, and happy chase,  
Than when of old, but in the selfsame place,  
Fair liberty pursued, 
Runny Mead where that great Charter was first sealed.  and meant a Prey  
To lawless power, here turned, and stood at bay.  
When in that remedy all hope was placed  
Which was, or should have been at least, the last.  
Here was that Charter sealed, 
Magna Charta.  wherein the Crown  
All marks of Arbitrary power lays down:  
Tyrant and slave, those names of hate and fear,  
The happier stile of King and Subject bear:  
Happy, when both to the same Centre move,  
When Kings give liberty, and Subjects love.  
Therefore not long in force this Charter stood;  
Wanting that seal, it must be sealed in blood.  
The Subjects armed, the more their Princes gave,  
Th' advantage only took the more to crave.  
Till Kings by giving, give themselves away,  
And even that power, that should deny, betray.  
Who gives constrained, but his own fear reviles  
Not thanked, but scorned; nor are they gifts, but spoils.  
Thus Kings, by grasping more than they could hold,  
First made their Subjects by oppression bold:  
And popular sway, by forcing Kings to give  
More than was fit for Subjects to receive,  
Ran to the same extremes; and one excess  
Made both, by striving to be greater, less.  
When a calm River raised with sudden rains,  
Or Snows dissolved, oreflows th' adjoining Plains,  
The Husbandmen with high-raised banks secure  
Their greedy hopes, and this he cau endure.  
But if with Bays and Dams they strive to force  
His channel to a new, or narrow course;  
No longer then within his banks he dwells,  
First to a Torrent, than a Deluge swells:  
Stronger, and fiercer by testraint he roars,  
And knows no bound, but makes his power his shores.  
FINIS.   

THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY, AN ESSAY UPON THE SECOND BOOK OF VIRGIL'S AENEIS.  
Written in the Year 1636.  
LONDON, Printed by I. M. for H. Herringman at the Sign of the Blue Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1667.   

THE PREFACE.  
THere are so few Translations which deserve praise, that I scarce ever saw any which deserved pardon; those who travel in that kind, being for the most part so unhappy, as to rob others, without enriching themselves, pulling down the fame of good Authors, without raising their own: Neither hath any Author been more hardly dealt withal than this our Master; and the reason is evident, for, what is most excellent, is most inimitable; and if even the worst thors are yet made worse by their Translators, how impossible is it not to do great injury to the best? And therefore I have not the vanity to think my Copy equal to the Original, nor (consequently) myself altogether guiltless of what I accuse others; but if I can do Virgil less injury than others have done, it will be, in some degree to do him right; and indeed, the hope of doing him more right, is the only scope of this Essay, by opening this new way of translating this Author, to those whom youth, leisure, and better fortune makes fitter for such undertake.  
I conceive it a vulgar error in translating Poets, to affect being Fidus Interpres; let that care be with them who deal in matters of Fact, or matters of Faith: but whosoever aims at it in Poetry, as he attempts what is not required, so he shall never perform what he attempts; for it is not his business alone to translate Language into Language, but Poesy into Poesy; & Poesy is of so subtle a spirit, that in pouring out of one Language into another, it will all evaporate; and if a new spirit be not added in the transfusion, there will remain nothing but a Caput mortuum, there being certain Graces and Happinesses peculiar to every Language, which gives life and energy to the words; and whosoever offers at Verbal Translation, shall have the misfortune of that young Traveller, who lost his own language abroad, and brought home no other instead of it: for the grace of the Latin will be lost by being turned into English words; and the grace of the English, by being turned into the Latin Phrase. And as speech is the apparel of our thoughts, so are there certain Garbs and Modes of speaking, which vary with the times; the fashion of our clothes being not more subject to alteration, than that of our speech: and this I think Tacitus means, by that which he calls Sermonem temporis istius auribus accommodatum; the delight of change being as due to the curiosity of the ear, as of the eye; and therefore if Virgil must needs speak English, it were fit he should speak not only as a man of this Nation, but as a man of this age; and if this disguise I have put upon him (I wish I could give it a better name) sit not naturally and easily on so grave a person, yet it may become him better than that Fools-Coat wherein the French and Italian have of late presented him; at least, I hope, it will not make him appear deformed, by making any part enormously bigger or less than the life, (I having made it my principal care to follow him, as he made it his to follow Nature in all his proportions) Neither have I any where offered such violence to his sense, as to make it seem mine, and not his. Where my expressions are not so full as his, either our Language, or my Art were defective (but I rather suspect myself;) but where mine are fuller than his, they are but the impressions which the often reading of him, hath left upon my thoughts; so that if they are not his own Conceptions, they are at least the results of them; and if (being conscious of making him speak worse than he did almost in every line) I err in endeavouring sometimes to make him speak better; I hope it will be judged an error on the right hand, and such an one as may deserve pardon, if not imitation.   

ARGUMENT.  
THe first Book speaking of Aeneas his voyage by Sea, and how being cast by tempest upon the coast of Carthage, he was received by Queen Dido, who after the Feast, desires him to make the relation of the destruction of Troy, which is the Argument of this Book.  
THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY, An Essay on the Second BOOK of Virgil's Aeneis.  
WHile all with silence & attention wait,  
Thus speaks Aeneas from the bed of State  
Madam, when you command us to review anew  
Our Fate, you make our old wounds bleed  
And all those sorrows to my sense restore,  
Whereof none saw so much, none suffered more:  
Not the most cruel of Our conquering Foes  
So unconcernedly can relate our woes,  
As not to lend a tear, Then how can I  
Repress the horror of my thoughts, which fly  
The sad remembrance? Now th' expiring night  
And the declining Stars to rest invite;  
Yet since 'tis your command, what you, so well  
Are pleased to hear, I cannot grieve to tell.  
By Fate repelled, and with repulses tired,  
The Greeks, so many Lives and years expired,  
A Fabric like a moving Mountain frame,  
Pretending vows for their return; This, Fame  
Divulges, then within the beasts vast womb  
The choice and flower of all their Troops entomb,  
In view the Isle of Tenedos, once high  
In fame and wealth, while Troy remained, doth lie,  
(Now but an unsecure and open Bay)  
Thither by stealth the Greeks their Fleet convey:  
We gave them gone, and to Mycenae sailed,  
And Troy revived, her mourning face unveiled;  
All through th' unguarded Gates with joy resort  
To see the slighetd Camp, the vacant Port;  
Here lay Ulysses, there Achilles, here  
The Battles joined, the Grecian Fleet road there;  
But the vast Pile th' amazed vulgar views  
Till they their Reason in their wonder lose;  
And first Tymaetes moves, (urged by the Power  
Of Fate, or Fraud) to place it in the Tower,  
But Capis and the graver sort thought fit,  
The Greeks suspected Present to commit  
To Seas or Flames, at least to search and bore  
The sides, & what that space contains t' explore;  
Th' uncertain Multitude with both engaged,  
Divided stands, till from the Tower, enraged  
Laocoon ran, whom all the crowd attends,  
Crying, what desperate Frenzy's this? (oh friends)  
To think them gone? Judge rather their retreat  
But a design, their gifts but a deceit,  
For our Destruction 'twas contrived no doubt,  
Or from within by fraud, or from without  
By force; yet know ye not Ulysses shifts?  
Their swords less danger carry than their gifts.  
(This said) against the Horse's side, his spear  
He throws, which trembles with enclosed fear,  
Whilst from the hollows of his womb proceed  
Groans, not his own; And had not Fate decreed  
Our Ruin, We had filled with Grecian blood  
The Place, Then Troy and Priam's Throne had stood;  
Mean while a fettered prisoner to the King  
With joyful shouts the Dardan Shepherds bring,  
Who to betray us did himself betray,  
At once the Taker, and at once the Prey,  
Firmly prepared, of one Event secured,  
Or of his Death or his Design assured.  
The Trojan Youth about the Captive flock,  
To wonder, or to pity, or to mock.  
Now hear the Grecian fraud, and from this one  
Conjecture all the rest.  
Disarmed, disordered, casting round his eyes  
On all the Troops that guarded him, he cries,  
What Land, what Sea, for me what Fate attends?  
Caught by my Foes, condemned by my Friends,  
Incensed Troy a wretched Captive seeks  
To sacrifice, a Fugitive, the Greeks,  
To Pity, This Complaint our former Rage,  
Converts, we now inquire his Parentage,  
What of their Councils, or affairs he knew,  
Then fearless, he replies, Great King to you  
All truth I shall relate: Nor first can I  
Myself to be of Grecian birth deny,  
And though my outward state, misfortune hath  
Depressed thus low, it cannot reach my Faith.  
You may by chance have heard the famous name  
Of Palimede, who from old Belus came,  
Whom, but for voting Peace, the Greeks pursue,  
Accused unjustly, then unjustly slew,  
Yet mourned his death. My Father was his friend,  
And me to his commands did recommend,  
While Laws and Councils did his Throne support,  
I but a youth, yet some Esteem and Port  
We then did bear, till by Ulysses' craft  
(Things known I speak) he was of life bereft:  
Since in dark sorrow I my days did spend,  
Till now disdaining his unworthy end  
I could not silence my Complaints, but vowed  
Revenge, if ever fate or chance allowed  
My wished return to Greece; from hence his hate,  
From thence my crimes, and all my ills bear date:  
Old guilt fresh malice gives; The people's ears  
He fills with rumours, and their hearts with fears '  
And then the Prophet to his party drew.  
But why do I these thankless truths pursue;  
Or why defer your Rage? on me, for all  
The Greeks, let your revenging fury fall.  
Ulysses' this, th' Atridae this desire  
At any rate. We straight are set on fire  
(Unpractised in such Mysteries) to inquire  
The manner and the cause, Which thus he told  
With gestures humble, as his Tale was bold.  
Oft have the Greeks (the siege detesting) tired  
With tedious war, a stolen retreat desired,  
And would to heaven they had gone: But still dismayed  
By Seas or Skies, unwillingly they stayed,  
Chiefly when this stupendious Pile was raised  
Strange noises filled the Air, we all amazed  
Dispatch Eurypilus to inquire our Fates  
Who thus the sentence of the Gods relates,  
A Virgin's slaughter did the storm appease  
When first towards Troy the Grecians took the Seas,  
Their safe retreat another Grecians blood  
Must purchase; All, at this confounded stood.  
Each thinks himself the Man, the fear on all  
Of what, the mischief, but on one can fall:  
Then Calchas (by Ulysses' first inspired)  
Was urged to name whom th' angry Gods required,  
Yet was I warned (for many were as well  
Inspired as he) and did my fate foretell.  
Ten days the Prophet in suspense remained,  
Would no man's fate pronounce; at last constrained  
By Ithacus, he solemnly designed  
Me for the Sacrifice; the people joined  
In glad consent, and all their common fear  
Determine in my fate, the day drew near;  
The sacred Rites prepared, my temples crowned  
With holy wreaths, Then I confess I found  
The means to my escape, my bonds I broke,  
Fled from my Guards, and in a muddy Lake  
Amongst the Sedges all the night lay hid,  
Till they their Sails had hoist (if so they did)  
And now alas no hope remains for me  
My home, my father and my sons to see,  
Whom, they enraged, will kill for my Offence,  
And punish for my guilt their Innocence.  
Those Gods who know the Truths I now relate,  
That faith which yet remains inviolate  
By mortal men, By these I beg, redress  
My causeless wrongs, and pity such distress.  
And now true Pity in exchange he finds  
For his false Tears, his Tongue, his hands unbinds.  
Then spoke the King, be Ours who ere thou art,  
Forget the Greeks. But first the truth impart,  
Why did they raise, or to what use intent  
This Pile? to a Warlike, or Religious end?  
Skilful in fraud, (his native Art) his hands  
Toward heaven he raised, delivered now from bands.  
Ye pure Aethereal flames, ye Powers adored  
By mortal men, ye Altars, and the sword  
I scaped; ye sacred Fillets that involved  
My destined head, grant I may stand absolved  
From all their Laws and Rites, renounce all name  
Of faith or love, their secret thoughts proclaim;  
Only O Troy, preserve thy faith to me,  
If what I shall relate preserveth thee.  
From Pallas favour, all our hopes, and all  
Counsels, and Actions took Original,  
Till Diomedes (for such attempts made fit  
By dire conjunction with Ulysses' wit)  
Assails the sacred Tower, the Guards they slay,  
Defile with bloody hands, and thence convey  
The fatal Image; strait with our success  
Our hopes fell back, whilst prodigies express  
Her just disdain, her flaming eyes did throw  
Flashes of lightning, from each part did flow  
A briny sweat, thrice brandishing her spear,  
Her Statue from the ground itself did rear;  
Then, that we should our Sacrilege restore  
And reconveigh their Gods from Argos shore,  
Chalcas persuades, till than we urge in vain  
The fate of Troy. To measure back the Main  
They all consent, but to return again,  
When reinforced with aids of Gods and men.  
Thus Chalcas, then instead of that, this Pile  
To Pallas was designed; to reconcile  
Th' offended Power, and expiate our guilt,  
To this vast height and monstrous stature built  
Lest through your gates received, it might renew  
Your vows to her, and her Defence to you.  
But if this sacred gift you disesteem,  
Then cruel Plagues (which heaven divert on them)  
Shall fall on Priam's State: but if the horse  
Your walls ascend, assisted by your force,  
A League against Greece all Asia shall contract;  
Our Sons then suffering what their Sires would act.  
Thus by his fraud and our own faith o'ercome,  
A feigned tear destroys us, against whom  
Tydides' nor Achilles' could prevail,  
Nor ten years' conflict, nor a thousand sail.  
This seconded by a most sad Portent  
Which credit to the first imposture lent;  
Laocoon, Neptune's Priest, upon the day  
Devoted to that God, a Bull did slay,  
When two prodigious serpents were descried,  
Whose circling strokes the Seas smooth face divide;  
Above the deep they raise their scaly Crests,  
And stem he flood with their erected breasts,  
Their winding tails advance and steer their course,  
And against the shore the breaking Billow force.  
Now landing, from their brandished tongues there came  
A dreadful hiss, and from their eyes a flame:  
Amazed wesly, directly in a line  
Laocoon they pursue, and first intwine  
(Each preying upon one) his tender sons,  
Then him, who armed to their rescue runs,  
They seized, and with intangling folds embraced  
His neck twice compassing, and twice his waist,  
Their poisonous knots he strives to break, and tear,  
Whilst slime and blood his sacred wreaths besmear,  
Then loudly roars, as when th' enraged Bull  
From th' Altar flies, and from his wounded skull  
Shakes the huge Axe; the conquering serpents fly  
To cruel Pallas Altar, and there lie  
Under her feet, within her shields extent;  
We in our fears conclude this fate was sent  
Justly on him, who struck the Sacred Oak  
With his accursed Lance. Then to invoke  
The Goddess, and let in the fatal horse  
We all consent:  
A spacious breach we make, & Troy's proud wall  
Built by the Gods, by our own hands doth fall;  
Thus, all their help to their own ruin give,  
Some draw with cords, and some the Monster drive  
With Rolls and Levers, thus our works it climbs,  
Big with our fate, the youth with Songs and Rhimes,  
Some dance, some hale the Rope; at last let down  
It enters with a thundering noise the Town.  
Oh Troy the seat of Gods, in war renowned;  
Three times it stuck, as oft the clashing sound  
Of Arms was heard, yet blinded by the Power  
Of Fate, we place it in the sacred Tower.  
Cassandra then foretells th' event, but she  
Finds no belief (such was the God's decree.)  
The Altars with fresh flowers we crown, & waste  
In Feasts▪ that day, which was (alas) our last.  
Now by the revolution of the Skies,  
Nights sable shadows from the Ocean rise,  
Which heaven and earth, and the Greek frauds involved,  
The City in secure repose dissolved,  
When from the Admiral's high Poop appears  
A light, by which the Argive Squadron Steers  
Their silent course to Ilium's well known Shore,  
When Sinon (saved by the God's partial power)  
Opens the horse, and through the unlocked doors  
To the free Air the armed freight restores:  
Ulysses, Stenelus, Tysander slide  
Down by a Rope, Machaon was their guide;  
Atrides, Pyrrhus, Thoas, Athamas,  
And Epeus who the fraud's contriver was,  
The Gates they seize, the Guards with sleep and wine  
Oppressed, surprise, and then their forces join.  
'Twas then, when the first sweets of sleep repair  
Our bodies spent with toil, our minds with care  
(The God's best gift) When bathed in tears and blood  
Before my face lamenting Hector stood,  
Such his aspect when soiled with bloody dust  
Dragged by the cords which through his feet were thrust  
By his insulting Foe; O how transformed!  
How much unlike that Hector who returned  
Clad in Achilles' spoils; when he, among  
A thousand ships (like jove) his Lightning flung;  
His horrid Beard and knotted Tresses stood  
Stiff with his gore, & all his wounds ran blood,  
Intranc'd I lay, than (weeping) said, The Joy,  
The hope and stay of thy declining Troy;  
What Region held thee, whence, so much desired,  
Art thou restored to us consumed and tired  
With toils and deaths; but what sad cause confounds  
Thy once fair looks, or why appear those wounds?  
Regardless of my words, he no reply  
Returns, but with a dreadful groan doth cry,  
Fly from the Flame, O Goddess-born, our walls  
The Greeks possess, and Troy confounded falls  
From all her Glories; if it might have stood  
By any Power, by this right hand it should.  
What Man could do, by me for Troy was done,  
Take here her Relics and her Gods, to run  
With them thy Fate, with them new Walls expect,  
Which, tossed on Seas, thou shalt at last erect;  
Then brings old Vesta from her sacred Choir,  
Her holy Wreaths, and her eternal Fire.  
Mean while the Walls with doubtful cries resound  
From far (for shady coverts did surround  
My Father's house) approaching still more near  
The clash of Arms, and voice of men we hear:  
Roused from my Bed, I speedily ascend  
The house's top, and listening there attend,  
As flames rolled by the winds conspiring force,  
o'er full-eared Corn, or Torrents raging course  
Bears down th' opposing Oaks, the fields destroys  
And mocks the Ploughman's toil, th' unlooked for noise  
From neighbouring hills, th' amazed Shepherd hears;  
Such my surprise, and such their rage appears,  
First fell thy house Vcalegon, than thine  
Deiphobus, Sigaean Seas did shine  
Bright with Troy's flames, the Trumpets dreadful sound,  
The louder groans of dying men confound.  
Give me my arms, I cried, resolved to throw  
Myself amongst any that opposed the Foe:  
Rage, anger, and Despair at once suggest  
That of all Deaths, to die in Arms was best.  
The first I met was Panthus, Phoebus' Priest,  
Who scaping with his Gods and Relics fled,  
And towards the shore his little Grandchild led;  
Panthus, what hope remains? what force? what place  
Made good? but sighing, he replies (alas)  
Trojans we were, and mighty Ilium was;  
But the last period and the fatal hour  
Of Troy is come: Our Glory and our Power  
Incensed jove transfers to Grecian hands,  
The foe within, the burning Town commands;  
And (like a smothered fire) an unseen force  
Breaks from the bowels of the fatal Horse:  
Insulting Sinon flings about the flame,  
And thousands more than e'er from Argos came  
Possess the Gates, the Passes and the Streets,  
And these the sword o'ertakes, & those it meets,  
The Guard nor fights nor flies, Their fate so near  
At once suspends their Courage and their Fear.  
Thus by the Gods, and by Otrides words  
Inspired, I make my way through fire, through swords,  
Where Noises, Tumults, Out-cries and Alarms  
I heard, first Iphitus renowned for Arms  
We meet, who knew us (for the Moon did shine)  
Than Ripheus, Hippanis and Dymas join  
Their force, and young Choraebus Mygdons' son,  
Who, by the Love of fair Cassandra, won,  
Arrived but lately in her Fathers Aid  
Unhappy, whom the Threats could not dissuade  
Of his Prophetic Spouse;  
Whom, when I saw, yet daring to maintain  
The fight, I said, Brave Spirits (but in vain)  
Are you resolved to follow one who dares  
Tempt all extremes? The state of Our affairs  
You see: The Gods have left us, by whose aid  
Our Empire stood; nor can the flame be stayed:  
Then let us fall amidst Our Foes; this one  
Relief the vanquished have, to hope for none.  
Then reinforced, as in a stormy night  
Wolves urged by their raging appetite  
Forage for prey, which their neglected young  
With greedy jaws expect, even so among  
Foes, Fire and Swords, t' assured death we pass▪  
Darkness our Guide, Despair our Leader was.  
Who can relate that Evenings woes and spoils,  
Or can his tears proportion to our Toils!  
The City, which so long had flourished, falls;  
Death triumphs o'er the Houses, Temples, Wall  
Nor only on the Trojans fell this doom,  
Their hearts at last the vanquished reassume;  
And now the Victor's fall, on all sides, fears,  
Groans and pale Death in all her shapes appears:  
Androgeus first with his whole Troop was cast  
Upon us, with civility misplaced;  
Thus greeting us you lose by your delay,  
Your share both of the honour and the prey,  
Others the spoils of burning Troy convey  
Back to those ships, which you but now forsake▪  
We making no return; his sad mistake  
Too late he finds: As when an unseen Snake  
A Travellers unwary foot hath pressed,  
Who trembling starts, when the Snakes azure Crest,  
Swollen with his rising Anger, he espies,  
So from our view surprised Androgeus▪  
But hear an easy victory we meet:  
Fear binds their hands, and ignorance their feet,  
Whilst Fortune, our first Enterprise, did aid,  
Encouraged with success, Choraebus said,  
O Friends, we now by better Fates are led,  
And the fair Path they lead us, let us dread.  
First change your Arms, and their distinctions bear;  
The same, in foes, Deceit and Virtue are.  
Then of his Arms, Androgeus he divests,  
His Sword, his Shield he takes, and plumed  
Crests,  
Then Ripheus, Dymas, and the rest, All glad  
Of the occasion, in fresh spoils are clad.  
Thus mixed, with Greeks, as if their Fortune still  
Followed their swords, we fight, pursue, and kill.  
Some re-ascend the Horse, and he whose sides  
Let forth the valiant, now, the Coward hides.  
Some, to their safer Guard, their Ships, retire;  
But vain's that hope, against which the Gods conspire:  
Behold the Royal Virgin, The Divine  
Cassandra, from Minerva's fatal shrine  
Dragged by the hair, casting towards heaven in vain,  
Her Eyes; for Cords her tender hands did strain:  
Choraebus at the spectacle enraged,  
Flies in amidst the foes: we thus engaged,  
To second him, amongst the thickest run;  
Here first our ruin from our friends began,  
Who from the Temples Battlements a shower  
Of Darts and Arrows on our heads did power:  
They, us for Greeks, and now the Greeks (who knew  
Cassandra's rescue) us for Trojans slew.  
Then from all parts Ulysses, Ajax, then,  
And then th' Atridae rally all their men;  
As winds, that meet from several Coasts, contest,  
Their prisons being broke, the South and West,  
And Eurus on his winged Coursers born  
Triumphing in their speed, the woods are torn,  
And chase Nereus with his Trident throws  
The billows from their bottom; Then all those  
Who in the dark our fury did escape,  
Returning, know our borrowed Arms and shape  
And differing Dialect: Then their numbers swell  
And grow upon us; first Choraebus fell  
Before Minerva's Altar, next did bleed  
Just Ripheus, whom no Trojan did exceed  
In virtue, yet the Gods his fate decreed.  
Then Hippanis and Dymas wounded by  
Their friends; nor thee Panthus thy Piety,  
Nor consecrated Mitre, from the same  
Ill fate could save; My Country's funeral flame  
And Troy's cold ashes I attest, and call  
To witness for myself, That in their fall  
No Foes, no Death, nor Danger I declined  
Did, and deserved no less, my Fate to find.  
Now Iphitus with me, and Pelias  
Slowly retire, the one retarded was  
By feeble Age, the other by a wound,  
To Court the Cry directs us, where We found  
Th' Assault so hot, as if 'twere only there,  
And all the rest secure from foes or fear:  
The Greeks the Gates approached, their Targest cast,  
Over their heads, some scaling ladders placed  
Against the walls, the rest the steps ascend,  
And with their shields on their left Arms defend  
Arrows and darts, and with their right hold fast  
The Battlement; on them the Trojans cast  
Stones, Rafters, Pillars, Beams, such Arms as these,  
Now hopeless, for their last defence they seize.  
The gilded Roofs, the marks of ancient state  
They tumble down, and now against the Gate  
Of th' Inner Court their growing force they bring,  
Now was Our last effort to save the King.  
Relieve the fainting, and succeed the dead.  
A Private Gallery 'twixt th' apartments led,  
Not to the Foe yet known, or not observed,  
(The way for Hector's hapless Wife reserved,  
When to the aged King, her little son  
She would present) Through this we pass and run  
Up to the highest Battlement, from whence  
The Trojans threw their darts without offence.  
A Tower so high, it seemed to reach the sky,  
Stood on the Roof, fram whence we could descry  
All Ilium— both the Camps, the Grecian Fleet;  
This, where the Beams upon the Columns meet,  
We loosen, which like Thunder from the Cloud  
Breaks on their heads, as sudden and as loud.  
But others still succeed: mean time, nor stones  
Nor any kind of weapons cease.  
Before the Gate in gilded Armour, shone  
Young Pyrrhus, like a Snake his skin new grown,  
Who fed on poisonous herbs, all winter lay  
Under the ground, and now reviews the day  
Fresh in his new apparel, proud and young,  
Rowls up his Back, and brandishes his tongue,  
And lifts his scaly breast against the Sun;  
With him his Father's Squire, Antomedon  
And Periphas who drove his winged steeds,  
Enter the Court; whom all the youth succeeds  
Of Scyros' Isle, who flamlng firebrands flung  
Up to the roof, Pyrrhus himself among  
The foremost with an Axe an entrance hews  
Through beams of solid Oak, then freely views  
The Chambers, Galleries, and Rooms of State,  
Where Priam and the ancient Monarches sat.  
At the first Gate an Armed Guard appears;  
But th' Inner Court with horror, noise and tears  
Confusedly filled, the women's shrieks and cries  
The Arched Vaults re-eccho to the skies;  
Sad Matrons wand'ring through the spacious Rooms  
Embrace and kiss the Posts: Then Pyrrhus comes  
Full of his Father, neither Men nor Walls  
His force sustain, the torn Portcullis falls,  
Then from the hinge, their strokes the Gates divorce,  
And where the way they cannot find, they force.  
Not with such rage a Swelling Torrent flows  
Above his banks, th' opposing Dams orethrows,  
Depopulates the Fields, the cattle, Sheep,  
Shepherds, and folds the foaming Surges sweep.  
And now between two sad extremes I stood,  
Here Pyrrhus and th' Atridae drunk with blood,  
There th' hapless Queen amongst an hundred Dames,  
And Priam quenching from his wounds those flames  
Which his own hands had on the Altar laid:  
Then they the secret Cabinets invade,  
Where stood the Fifty Nuptial Beds, the hopes  
Of that great Race, the Golden Posts whose tops  
Old hostile spoils adorned, demolished lay,  
Or to the foe, or to the fire a Prey.  
Now Priam's fate perhaps you may inquire,  
Seeing his Empire lost, his Troy on fire,  
And his own Palace by the Greeks possessed,  
Arms, long disused, his trembling limbs invest;  
Thus on his foes he throws himself alone,  
Not for their Fate, but to provoke his own:  
There stood an Altar open to the view  
Of Heaven, near which an aged Laurel grew,  
Whose shady arms the household Gods embraced;  
Before whose feet the Queen herself had cast,  
With all her daughters, and the Trojan wives,  
As Doves whom an approaching tempest drives  
And frights into one flock; But having spied  
Old Priam clad in youthful Arms, she cried,  
Alas my wretched husband, what pretence  
To bear those Arms, and in them what defence?  
Such aid such times require not, when again  
If Hector were alive, he lived in vain;  
Or here We shall a Sanctuary find,  
Or as in life, we shall in death be joined.  
Then weeping, with kind force held & embraced  
And on the sacred seat the King she placed;  
Mean while Polites one of Priam's sons  
Flying the rage of bloody Pyrrhus, runs  
Through foes & swords, & ranges all the Court  
And empty Galleries, amazed and hurt,  
Pyrrhus pursues him, now o'ertakes, now kills,  
And his last blood in Priam's presence spills.  
The King (though him so many deaths enclose)  
Nor fear, nor grief, but Indignation shows;  
The Gods requite thee (if within the care  
Of those alone th' affairs of mortals are)  
Whose fury on the son but lost had been,  
Had not his Parents Eyes his murder seen:  
Not That Achilles (whom thou feign'st to be  
Thy Father) so inhuman was to me;  
He blushed, when I the rights of Arms implored;  
To me my Hector, me to Troy restored:  
This said, his feeble Arm a Javelin flung,  
Which on the sounding shield, scarce entering, rung.  
Then Pyrrhus; go a messenger to Hell  
Of my black deeds, and to my Father tell  
The Acts of his degenerate Race. So through  
His Sons warm blood, the trembling King he drew  
To th' Altar; in his hair one hand he wreaths;  
His sword, the other in his bosom sheaths.  
Thus fell the King, who yet survived the State,  
With such a signal and peculiar Fate.  
Under so vast a ruin not a Grave,  
Nor in such flames a funeral fire to have:  
He, whom such Titles swelled, such Power made proud  
To whom the Sceptres of all Asia bowed,  
On the cold earth lies th' unregarded King,  
A headless Carcase, and a nameless Thing.  
FINIS.   

On the Earl of Strafford's Trial and Death.  
GReat Strafford! worthy of that Name, though all  
Of thee could be forgotten, but thy fall,  
Crushed by Imaginary Treason's weight,  
Which too much Merit did accumulate:  
As Chemist's Gold from Brass by fire would draw,  
Pretexts are into Treason forged by Law.  
His Wisdom such, at once it did appear  
Three Kingdoms wonder, and three Kingdoms fear;  
Whilst single he stood forth, and seemed, although  
Each had an Army, as an equal Foe.  
Such was his force of Eloquence, to make  
The Hearers more concerned than he that spoke;  
Each seemed to act that part, he came to see,  
And none was more a looker on than he:  
So did he move our passion, some were known  
To wish for the defence, the Crime their own.  
Now private pity strove with public hate,  
Reason with Rage, and Eloquence with Fate:  
Now they could him, if he could them forgive;  
He's not too guilty, but too wise to live;  
Lesle seem those Facts which Treasons Nickname bore,  
Than such a feared ability for more.  
They after death their fears of him express.  
His Innocence, and their own guilt confess.  
Their Legislative Frenzy they repent;  
Enacting it should make no Precedent.  
This Fate he could have scaped, but would not lose  
Honour for Life, but rather nobly chose  
Death from their fears, than safety from his own,  
That his last Action all the rest might crown.   

On my Lord Croft's and my journey into Poland, from whence we brought 10000 l. for his Majesty by the Decimation of his Scottish Subjects there.  

1.  
TOle, toll,  
Gentle Bell, for the Soul  
Of the pure ones in Pole,  
Which are damned in our Scroul;   

2.  
Who having felt a touch  
Of Cockrams greedy Clutch,  
Which though it was not much,  
Yet their stubbornness was such,   

3.  
That when we did arrive,  
Against the stream we did strive;  
They would neither lead, nor drive:   

4.  
Nor lend  
An Ear to a Friend,  
Nor an answer would send  
To our Letter so well penned.   

5.  
Nor assist our affairs,  
With their moneys nor their Wares,  
As their answer now declares,  
But only with their Prayers.   

6.  
Thus they did persist,  
Did and said what they list,  
Till the Diet was dismissed;  
But then our Breech they kissed.   

7.  
For when  
It was moved there and then  
They should pay one in ten,  
The Diet said Amen.   

8.  
And because they are loath  
To discover the troth,  
They must give word and Oath,  
Though they will forfeit both.   

9  
Thus the Constitution  
Condemns them every one,  
From the Father to the Son.   

10.  
But john  
(Our Friend) Mollesson,  
Thought us to have outgone  
With a acquaint Invention.   

11.  
Like the Prophets of yore,  
He complained long before,  
Of the Mischiefs in store,  
I, and thrice as much more.   

12.  
And with that wicked Lie  
A Letter they came by,  
From our King's Majesty.   

13.  
But Fate  
Brought the Letter too late,  
'Twas of too old a date,  
To relieve their damned State.   

14.  
The Letter's to be seen,  
With seal of Wax so green,  
At Dantzige, where t' as been  
Turned into good Latin.   

15.  
But he that gave the hint,  
This Letter for to Print,  
Must also pay his stint.   

16.  
That trick,  
Had it come in the Nick,  
Had touched us to the quick,  
But the Messenger fell sick.   

17▪  
Had it later been wrought;  
And sooner been brought,  
They had got what they sought,  
But now it serves for nought.   

18.  
On Sandys they ran aground, 
Mr. W.   
And our return was crowned  
With full ten thousand pound.    

On Mr. Tho. Killigrew's Return from his Embassy from Venice, and Mr. William Murry's from Scotland.  

1.  
OUr Resident Tom,  
From Venice is come,  
And hath left the Statesman behind him;  
Talks at the same pitch,  
Is as wise, is as rich,  
And just where you left him, you find him.   

2.  
But who says he was not,  
A man of much Plot,  
May repent that false Accusation;  
Having plotted and penned  
Six plays to attend  
The Farce of his Negotiation.   

3.  
Before you were told  
How Satan the old 
Mr. W. Murrey.   
Came here with a Beard to his middle;  
Though he changed face and name,  
Old Will was the same,  
At the noise of a Can and a Fiddle.   

4.  
These Statesmen you believe  
Send strait for the Sheriff,  
For he is one too, or would be;  
But he drinks no Wine,  
Which is a shrewd sign  
That all's not so well as it should be.   

5.  
These three when they drink,  
How little do they think  
Of Banishment, Debts, or dying?  
Not old with their years,  
Nor cold with their fears;  
But their angry Stars still defying.   

6.  
Mirth makes them not mad,  
Nor Sobriety sad;  
But of that they are seldom in danger:  
At Paris, at Rome,  
At the Hague they are at home;  
The good Fellow is no where a stranger.    

To Sir John Mennis being invited from Calais to Bologne to eat a Pig.  

1.  
ALL on a weeping Monday,  
With a fat Bulgarian Sloven,  
Little Admiral john  
To Bologne is gone  
Whom I think they call old Loven.   

2.  
Hadst thou not thy fill of Carting  
With Aubrey Count of Oxon! 
We three riding in a Cart from Dunkirk to Calais with a fat Dutch Woman who broke wind all along.   
When Nose lay in Breech  
And Breech made a Speech,  
So often cried a Pox on.   

3.  
A Knight by Land and Water  
Esteemed at such a high rate,  
When 'tis told in Kent,  
In a Cart that he went,  
They'll say now hang him Pirate.   

4.  
Thou mightst have ta'en example,  
From what thou readest in story;  
Being as worthy to sit  
On an ambling Tit,  
As thy Predecessor Dory.   

5.  
But Oh! the roof of Linen,  
Intended for a shelter!  
But the Rain made an Ass  
Of Tilt of Canvas;  
And the Snow which you know is a Melter.   

6.  
But with thee to inveigle,  
That tender stripling, Astcot▪  
Who was soaked to the skin,  
Through Drugget so thin,  
Having neither Coat, nor Waistcoat;   

7.  
He being proudly mounted,  
Clad in Cloak of Plymouth,  
Defy'd Cart so base,  
For Thief without Grace,  
That goes to make a wry-mouth.   

8.  
Nor did he like the Omen,  
For fear it might be his doom,  
One day for to sing,  
With Gullet in string,  
A Hymn of Robert Wisdom.   

9  
But what was all this business?  
For sure it was important:  
For who rides i'th' wet,  
When affairs are not great,  
The neighbours make but a sport on't.   

10.  
To a goodly fat Sow's Baby,  
O john, thou hadst a malice,  
The old driver of Swine  
That day sure was thine,  
Or thou hadst not quitted Calais.    

Natura Naturata.  

WHat gives us that Fantastic Fit,  
That all our Judgement and our Wit  
To vulgar custom we submit?   

Treason, Theft, Murder, all the rest  
Of that foul Legion we so detest,  
Are in their proper names expressed.   

Why is it then sought sin or shame,  
Those necessary parts to name,  
From whence we went, and whence we came?   

Nature, what ere she wants, requires;  
With Love enflaming our desires,  
Finds Engines fit to quench those fires:   

Death she abhors; yet when men die,  
We are present; but no slander by  
Looks on when we that loss supply:   

Forbidden Wares sell twice as dear;  
Even Sack prohibited last year,  
A most abominable rate did bear.   

'tis plain our eyes and ears are nice,  
Only to raise by that device,  
Of those Commodities the price.   

Thus Reason's shadows us betray  
By Tropes and Figures led astray,  
From Nature, both her Guide and way.    

Sarpedon's Speech to Glaucus in the 12th of Homer.  
Thus to Glaucus spoke  
DIvine Sarpedon, since he did not find  
Others as great in Place, as great in Mind.  
Above the rest, why is our Pomp, our Power?  
Our flocks, our herds, and our possessions more?  
Why all the Tributes Land and Sea affords  
Heaped in great Chargers, load our sumptuous boards?  
Our cheerful Guests carouse the sparkling tears  
Of the rich Grape, whilst Music charms their ears.  
Why as we pass, do those on Xanthus' shore,  
As Gods behold us, and as Gods adore?  
But that as well in danger, as degree,  
We stand the first; that when our Lycians see  
Our brave examples, they admiring say,  
Behold our Gallant Leaders! These are They  
Deserve the Greatness; and unenvied stand:  
Since what they act, transcends what they command.  
Could the declining of this Fate (oh friend)  
Our Date to Immortality extend?  
Or if Death sought not them, who seek not Death,  
Would I advance? Or should my vainer breath  
With such a Glorious Folly thee inspire?  
But since with Fortune Nature doth conspire,  
Since Age, Disease, or some less noble End,  
Though not less certain, doth our days attend;  
Since 'tis decreed, and to this period lead,  
A thousand ways the noblest path we'll tread;  
And bravely on, till they, or we, or all,  
A common Sacrifice to Honour fall.   

Martial. Epigram.  
Out of an Epigram of Martial.  

PRithee die and set me free,  
Or else be  
Kind and brisk, and gay like me;  
I pretend not to the wise ones,  
To the grave, to the grave,  
Or the precise ones.   

'tis not Cheeks, nor Lips nor Eyes,  
That I prise,  
Quick Conceits, or sharp Replies,  
If wise thou wilt appear, and knowing,  
Repartie, Repartie  
To what I'm doing.   

Prithee why the Room so dark?  
Not a Spark  
Left to light me to the mark;  
I love daylight and a candle,  
And to see, and to see,  
As well as handle.   

Why so many Bolts and Locks,  
Coats and Smocks,  
And those Drawers with a Pox?  
I could wish, could Nature make it,  
Nakedness, Nakedness  
Itself were naked.   

But if a Mistress I must have,  
Wise and grave,  
Let her so herself behave  
All the day long susan Civil,  
Pap by night, pap by night  
Or such a Devil.    

Friendship and single life against Love and Marriage.  

1.  
LOve! in what poison is thy Dart  
Dipped, when it makes a bleeding heart?  
None know, but they who feel the smart.   

2.  
It is not thou, but we are blind,  
And our corporeal eyes (we find)  
Dazzle the Optics of our Mind.   

3.  
Love to our Citadel resorts,  
Through those deceitful Sally-ports,  
Our Sentinels betray our Forts.   

4.  
What subtle Witchcraft man constrains,  
To change his Pleasures into Pains,  
And all his freedom into Chains?   

5.  
May not a Prison, or a Grave  
Like Wedlock, Honour's title have?  
That word makes Freeborn man a Slave.   

6.  
How happy he that loves not, lives!  
Him neither Hope nor Fear deceives,  
To Fortune who no Hostage gives.   

7.  
How unconcerned in things to come!  
If here uneasy, finds at Rome,  
At Paris, or Madrid his Home.   

8.  
Secure from low, and private Ends,  
His Life, his Zeal, his Wealth attends  
His Prince, his Country, and his Friends.   

9  
Danger, and Honour are his Joy;  
But a fond Wife, or wanton Boy,  
May all those Generous Thoughts destroy.   

10.  
Then he lays by the public Care,  
Thinks of providing for an Heir;  
Learns how to get, and how to spare.   

11.  
Nor fire, nor foe, nor fate, nor night,  
The Trojan Hero did affright,  
Who bravely twice renewed the fight.   

12.  
Though still his foes in number grew,  
Thicker their Darts, and Arrows flew,  
Yet left alone, no fear he knew.   

13.  
But Death in all her forms appears,  
From every thing he sees and hears,  
For whom he leads, and whom he bears. 
His Father and Son.    

14.  
Love making all things else his Foes,  
Like a fierce torrent overflows  
Whatever doth his course oppose.   

15.  
This was the cause the Poets sung,  
Thy Mother from the Sea was sprung;  
But they were mad to make thee young.   

16.  
Her Father, not her Son, art thou:  
From our desires our actions grow;  
And from the Cause the Effect must flow.   

17.  
Love is as old as place or time;  
'Twas he the fatal Tree did climb,  
Grandsire of Father Adam's crime.   

18.  
Well mayst thou keep this world in awe,  
Religion, Wisdom, Honour, Law,  
The tyrant in his triumph draw.   

19  
'Tis he commands the Powers above;  
Phoebus resigns his Darts, and jove  
His Thunder to the God of Love.   

20.  
To him doth his feigned Mother yield,  
Nor Mars (her Champions) flaming shield  
Guards him, when Cupid takes the Field.   

21.  
He eclipse hopes wings, whose airy bliss  
Much higher than fruition is;  
But less than nothing, if it miss.   

22.  
When matches Love alone projects,  
The Cause transcending the Effects,  
That wild-fire's quenched in cold neglects.   

23.  
Whilst those Conjunctions prove the best,  
Where Love's of blindness dispossessed,  
By perspectives of Interest.   

24.  
Though Solomon with a thousand wives,  
To get a wise Successor strives,  
But one (and he a Fool) survives.   

25.  
Old Rome of Children took no care,  
They with their Friends their beds did share,  
Secure, t'adopt a hopeful Heir.   

26.  
Love drowsy days, and stormy nights  
Makes, and breaks Friendship, whose delights  
Feed, but not glut our Appetites.   

27.  
Well chosen Friendship, the most noble  
Of Virtues, all our joys makes double,  
And into halves divides our trouble.   

28.  
But when the unlucky knot we tie,  
Care, Avarice, Fear, and Jealousy  
Make Friendship languish till it die.   

29.  
The Wolf, the Lion, and the Bear  
When they their prey in pieces tear,  
To quarrel with themselves forbear.   

30.  
Yet timorous Deer, and harmless Sheep  
When Love into their veins doth creep,  
That law of Nature cease to keep.   

31.  
Who then can blame the Amorous Boy,  
Who the Fair Helen to enjoy,  
To quench his own, set fire on Troy?   

32.  
Such is the world's preposterous fate,  
Amongst all Creatures, mortal hate  
Love (though immortal) doth Create.   

33.  
But Love may Beasts excuse, for they  
Their actions not by Reason sway,  
But their brute appetites obey.   

34.  
But Man's that Savage Beast, whose mind  
From Reason to self-Love declined,  
Delights to pray upon his Kind.    

ON Mr ABRAHAM COWLEY His Death and Burial amongst the Ancient Poets.  
OLd Chaucer, like the morning Star,  
To us discovers day from far,  
His light those Mists and Clouds dissolved,  
Which our dark Nation long involved;  
But he descending to the shades,  
Darkness again the Age invades.  
Next (like Aurora) Spencer rose,  
Whose purple blush the day foreshows;  
The other three, with his own fires,  
Phoebus, the Poet's God, inspires;  
By Shakespear's, Iohnson's, Fletcher' s lines,  
Our Stages lustre Romes' outshines:  
These Poets near our Prince's sleep,  
And in one Grave their Mansion keep;  
They lived to see so many days,  
Till time had blasted all their Bays:  
But cursed be the fatal hour  
That plucked the fairest, sweetest flower  
That in the Muse's Garden grew,  
And amongst withered Laurels threw.  
Time, which made them their Fame outlive,  
To Cow scarce did ripeness give.  
Old Mother Wit, and Nature gave  
Shakespeare and Fletcher all they have;  
In Spencer, and in johnson, Art,  
Of flower Nature got the start;  
But both in him so equal are,  
None knows which bears the happi'st share;  
To him no Author was unknown,  
Yet what he wrote was all his own;  
He melted not the ancient Gold,  
Nor with Ben johnson did make bold  
To plunder all the Roman stores  
Of Poets, and of Orators:  
Horace his wit, and Virgil's state,  
He did not steal, but emulate,  
And when he would like them appear,  
Their Garb, but not their clothes, did wear:  
He not from Rome alone, but Greece,  
Like jason brought the Golden Fleece;  
To him that Language (though to none  
Of th' others) as his own was known.  
On a stiff gale (as Flaccus sings)  
The Theban Swan extends his wings, 
His Pindaricks.   
When through th' aetherial Clouds he flies,  
To the same pitch our Swan doth rise;  
Old Pindar's flights by him are reached,  
When on that gale his wings are stretched;  
His fancy and his judgement such,  
Each to the other seemed too much,  
His severe judgement (giving Law)  
His modest fancy kept in awe:  
As rigid Husbands jealous are,  
When they believe their Wives too fair.  
His English stream so pure did flow,  
As all that saw, and tasted, know▪  
But for his Latin vein, so clear,  
Strong, 
His last work.  full, and high it doth appear,  
That were immortal Virgil here,  
Him, for his judge, he would not fear;  
Of that great Portraiture, so true  
A Copy Pencil never drew.  
My Muse her Song had ended here,  
But both their Genii straight appear,  
Joy and amazement her did strike,  
Two Twins she never saw so like.  
'twas taught by wise Pythagoras,  
One Soul might through more Bodies pass;  
Seeing such Transmigration here,  
She thought it not a Fable there.  
Such a resemblance of all parts,  
Life, Death, Age, Fortune, Nature, Arts,  
Then lights her Torch at theirs, to tell,  
And show the world this Parallel,  
Fixed and contemplative their looks,  
Still turning over Nature's Books:  
Their works chaste, moral, and divine,  
Where profit and delight combine;  
They guilding dirt, in noble verse  
Rustic Philosophy rehearse;  
When Heroes, Gods, or Godlike Kings  
They praise, on their exalted wings,  
To the Celestial orbs they climb,  
And with the Harmonious spheres keep time;  
Nor did their actions fall behind  
Their words, but with like candour shined,  
Each drew fair Characters, yet none  
Of these they feigned, excels their own;  
Both by two generous Princes loved,  
Who knew, and judged what they approved:  
Yet having each the same desire,  
Both from the busy throng retire,  
Their Bodies to their Minds resigned,  
Cared not to propagate their Kind:  
Yet though both fell before their hour,  
Time on their offspring hath no power,  
Nor fire, nor fate their Bays shall blast,  
Nor Death's dark vail their day overcast.   

A Speech against Peace at the close Committee.  
To the Tune of, I went from England.  

BUt will you now to Peace incline,  
And languish in the main design,  
And leave us in the lurch?  
I would not Monarchy destroy,  
But only as the way to enjoy  
The ruin of the Church.   

Is not the Bishop's Bill denied,  
And we still threatened to be tried?  
You see the King's embraces.  
Those Counsels he approved before:  
Nor doth he promise, which is more,  
That we shall have their Places.   

Did I for this bring in the Scot?  
(For 'tis no Secret now) the Plot  
Was Says and mine together:  
Did I for this return again,  
And spend a Winter there in vain,  
Once more to invite them hither?   

Though more our Money than our Cause  
Their Brotherly assistance draws,  
My labour was not lost.  
At my return I brought you thence  
Necessity, their strong Pretence,  
And these shall quit the cost.   

Did I for this my County bring  
To help their Knight against their King,  
And raise the first Sedition?  
Though I the business did decline,  
Yet I contrived the whole Design,  
And sent them their Petition.   

So many nights spent in the City  
In that invisible Committee;  
The Wheel that governs all.  
From thence the Change in Church and State,  
And all the Mischiefs bear the date  
From Haberdashers Hall.   

Did we force Ireland to despair,  
Upon the King to cast the War,  
To make the world abhor him:  
Because the Rebels used his Name,  
Though we ourselves can do the same,  
While both alike were for him?   

Then the same fire we kindled here  
With that was given to quench it there,  
And wisely lost that Nation:  
To do as crafty Beggars use,  
To maim themselves thereby to abuse  
The simple man's compassion.   

Have I so often passed between  
Windsor and Westminster unseen,  
And did myself divide:  
To keep his Excellence in awe,  
And give the Parliament the Law,  
For they knew none beside?   

Did I for this take pains to teach  
Our zealous Ignorants to Preach,  
And did their Lungs inspire,  
Gave them their Text, showed them their Parts,  
And taught them all their little Arts,  
To fling abroad the Fire?   

Sometimes to beg, sometimes to threaten,  
And say the Cavaliers are beaten,  
To struck the People's ears;  
Then straight when Victory grows cheap,  
And will no more advance the heap,  
To raise the price of Fears.   

And now the Book's and now the Bells,  
And now our Act the Preachers tells,  
To edify the People;  
All our Divinity is News,  
And we have made of equal use  
The Pulpit and the Steeple.   

And shall we kindle all this Flame  
Only to put it out again,  
And must we now give o'er,  
And only end where we begun?  
In vain this Mischief we have done,  
If we can do no more.   

If men in Peace can have their right,  
Where's the necessity to fight,  
That breaks both Law, the Oath?  
They'll say they fight not for the Cause,  
Nor to defend the King and Laws,  
But as against them both.   

Either the cause at first was ill,  
Or being good it is so still;  
And thence they will infer,  
That either now, or at the first  
They were deceived; or which is worst,  
That we ourselves may err.   

But Plague and Famine will come in,  
For they and we are near of kin,  
And cannot go asunder:  
But while the wicked starve, indeed  
The Saints have ready at their need  
God's Providence and Plunder.   

Princes we are if we prevail,  
And Gallant Villains if we fail,  
When to our Fame 'tis told;  
It will not be our least of praise,  
Sing a new State we could not raise▪  
To have destroyed the old.   

Then let us stay and fight, and vote,  
Till London is not worth a Groat;  
Oh 'tis a patient Beast!  
When we have galled and tired the Mule,  
And can no longer have the rule,  
We'll have the spoil at least.    

To the five Members of the Honourable House of Commons.  
The Humble Petition of the POETS.  

AFter so many Concurring Petitions  
From all Ages and Sexes, and all conditions,  
We come in the rear to present our Follies  
To Pym, Stroude, Haslerig, H. and H.  
Though set from of Prayer be an Abomination,  
Set forms of Petitions find great Approbation:  
Therefore, as others from th' bottom of their souls,  
So we from the depth and bottom of our Bowls,  
According unto the blessed form you have taught us,  
We thank you first for the Ills you have brought us,  
For the Good we receive we thank him that gave it,  
And you for the Confidence only to crave it.  
Next in course, we Complain of the great violation  
Of Privilege (like the rest of our Nation)  
But 'tis none of yours of which we have spoken  
Which never had being, until they were broken▪  
But ours is a Privilege Ancient and Native,  
Hangs not on an Ordinance, or power Legislative.  
And first, 'tis to speak whatever we please  
Without fear of a Prison, or Pursuivants fees.  
Next, that we only may lie by Authority,  
But in that also you have got the Priority.  
Next, an old Custom, our Fathers did name it  
Poetical licence, and always did claim it.  
By this we have power to change Age into Youth,  
Turn Nonsense to Sense, and Falsehood to Truth;  
In brief, to make good whatsoever is faulty,  
This art some Poet, or the Devil has taught ye:  
And this our Property you have invaded,  
And a Privilege of both Houses have made it:  
But that trust above all in Poets reposed,  
That Kings by them only are made and Deposed,  
This though you cannot do, yet you are willing;  
But when we undertake Deposing or Killing,  
They're Tyrants and Monsters, and yet then the Poet  
Takes full Revenge on the Villains that do it:  
And when we resume a Sceptre or a Crown,  
We are Modest, and seek not to make it our own.  
But is't not presumption to write Verses to you,  
Who make the better Poems of the two?  
For all those pretty Knacks you compose,  
Alas, what are they but Poems in prose?  
And between those and ours there's no difference,  
But that yours want the rhyme, the wit and the sense:  
But for lying (the most noble part of a Poet)  
You have it abundantly, and yourselves know it,  
And though you are modest, and seem to abhor it,  
'T has done you good service, and thank Hell for it:  
Although the old Maxim remains still in force,  
That a Sanctified Cause, must have a Sanctified Course.  
If poverty be a part of our Trade,  
So far the whole Kingdom Poets you have made,  
Nay even so far as undoing will do it,  
You have made King Charles himself a Poet:  
But provoke not his Muse, for all the world knows,  
Already you have had too much of his Proof.    

A Western Wonder.  

DO you not know, not a fortnight ago,  
How they bragged of a Western wonder?  
When a hundred and ten, slew five thousand men,  
With the help of Lightning and Thunder.   

There Hopton was slain, again and again,  
Or else my Author did lie;  
With a new Thanksgiving, for the Dead who are living,  
To God, and his Servant Chidleigh.   

But now on which side was this Miracle tried,  
I hope we at last are even;  
For Sir Ralph and his Knaves, are risen from their Graves,  
To Cudge'l the Clowns of Devon.   

And now Stamford came, for his Honour was lame  
Of the Gout three months together;  
But it proved when they fought, but a running Gout,  
For his heels were lighter than ever.   

For now he outruns his Arms and his Guns,  
And leaves all his money behind him;  
But they follow after, unless he take water  
At Plymouth again, they will find him.   

What Reading hath cost, and Stamford hath lost,  
Goes deep in the Sequestrations;  
These wounds will not heal, with your new Great Seal,  
Nor jepsons Declarations.   

Now Peter, and Case, in your Prayer and Grace  
Remember the new Thanksgiving;  
Isaac and his Wife, now dig for your life,  
Or shortly you'll dig for your living.    

A Second Western Wonder.  

YOu heard of that wonder, of the Lightning and Thunder,  
Which made the lie so much the louder;  
Now list to another, that Miracles Brother,  
Which was done with a Firkin of powder.   

Oh what a damp, struck through the Camp!  
But as for honest Sir Ralph,  
It blew him to the vieth, without beard, or eyes,  
But at least three heads and a half.   

When out came the book, which the News-Monger took  
From the Preaching Ladies Letter,  
Where in the first place, stood the conquerors face,  
Which made it show much the better.   

But now without lying, you may paint him flying,  
At Bristol they say you may find him  
Great William the Con so fast he did run,  
That he left half his name behind him.   

And now came the Post, saves all that was lost,  
But alas, we are passed deceiving,  
By a trick so stale, or else such a tale  
Might mount for a new Thanksgiving.   

This made Mr. Case, with a pitiful face,  
In the Pulpit to fall a weeping,  
Though his mouth uttered lies, truth fell from his eyes,  
Which kept the Lord Mayor from sleeping.   

Now shut up shops, and spend your last drops,  
For the Laws of your Cause, you that loathe 'em,  
Lest Essex should start, and play the Second part,  
Of Worshipful Sir john Hotham.    

News from Colchester.  
Or, A Proper new Ballad of certain Carnal passages betwixt a Quaker and a Colt, at Horsly near Colchester in Essex.  
To the Tune of, Tom of Bedlam.  

1.  
ALL in the Land of Essex,  
Near Colchester the Zealous,  
On the side of a bank,  
Was played such a Prank,  
As would make a Stone-horse jealous.   

2.  
Help Woodcock, Fox and Nailor,  
For Brother Green's a Stallion,  
Now alas what hope  
Of converting the Pope,  
When a Quaker turns Italian?   

3.  
Even to our whole profession]  
A scandal 'twill be counted,  
When 'tis talked with disdain  
Amongst the Profane,  
How brother Green was mounted.   

4.  
And in the Good time of Christmas,  
Which though our Saints have damned all,  
Yet when did they hear  
That a damned Cavalier  
Ere played such a Christmas gambal?   

5.  
Had thy flesh, O Green, been pampered  
With any Cates unhallowed,  
Hadst thou sweetened thy Gums  
With Pottage of Plums,  
Or profane minced Pie hadst swallowed,   

6.  
Rolled up in wanton Swine's-flesh,  
The Fiend might have crept into thee;  
Then fullness of gut  
Might have caused thee to rut,  
And the Devil have so rid through thee.   

7.  
But alas he had been feasted  
With a Spiritual Collation,  
By our frugal Mayor,  
Who can dine on a Prayer,  
And sup on an Exhortation.   

8.  
'Twas mere impulse of Spirit,  
Though he used the weapon carnal:  
Filly Foal, quoth he,  
My Bride thou shalt be:  
And how this is lawful, learn all.   

9  
For if no respect of Persons  
Be due amongst the Sons of Adam,  
In a large extent,  
Thereby may be meant  
That a mere's as good as a Madam.   

10.  
Then without more Ceremony,  
Not Bonnet veiled, nor kissed her,  
But took her by force,  
For better for worse,  
And used her like a Sister.   

11.  
Now when in such a Saddle  
A Saint will needs be riding,  
Though we dare not say  
'Tis a falling away,  
May there not be some back-sliding?   

12.  
No surely, quoth james Naylor,  
'Twas but an insurrection  
Of the Carnal part,  
For a Quaker in heart  
Can never lose perfection.   

13.  
For (as our Masters teach us)  
The intent being well directed, 
The Jesuits.   
Though the Devil trepan  
The Adamical man,  
The Saint stands uninfected.   

14.  
But alas a Pagan Jury  
ne'er judges what's intended,  
Then say what we can,  
Brother Green's outward man  
I fear will be suspended.   

15.  
And our Adopted Sister  
Will find no better quarter,  
But when him we inroul  
For a Saint, Filly Foal  
Shall pass herself for a Martyr.   

16.  
Rome that Spiritual Sodom,  
No longer is thy debtor,  
O Colchester, now  
Who's Sodom but thou,  
Even according to the Letter?    

A SONG.  

SOmnus the humble God, that dwells  
In cottages and smoky cells,  
Hates gilded roofs and beds of down;  
And though he fears no Princes frown,  
Flies from the circle of a Crown.   

Come, I say, thou powerful God,  
And thy Leaden charming Rod,  
Dipped in the Lethaean Lake,  
O'er his wakeful temples shake,  
Lest he should sleep and never wake.   

Nature (alas) why art thou so  
Obliged to thy greatest Foe?  
Sleep that is thy best repast,  
Yet of death it bears a taste,  
And both are the same thing at last.    

On Mr John fletcher's Works.  
SO shall we joy, when all whom Beasts and Worms  
Had turned to their own substances and forms,  
Whom Earth to Earth, or Fire hath changed to Fire,  
We shall behold more then at first entire;  
As now we do, to see all thine thy own  
In this thy Muse's Resurrection,  
Whose scattered parts, from thy own race, more wounds  
Hath suffered, than Actaeon from his Hounds;  
Which first their Brains, and then their Belly, fed,  
And from their excrements new Poets bred.  
But now thy Muse enraged from her Urn  
Like Ghosts of Murdered bodies does return  
T' accuse the Murderers, to right the Stage,  
And undeceive the long abused Age,  
Which casts thy praise on them, to whom thy wit  
Gives not more Gold than they give dross to it:  
Who not content like Felons to Purloyn,  
Add treason to it, and debase thy Coyn.  
But whither am I strayed? I need not raise  
Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise;  
Nor is thy Fame on lesser ruins built,  
Nor needs thy juster Title the soul guilt  
Of Eastern Kings, who to secure their reign,  
Must have their Brothers, Sons, and Kindred slain.  
Then was wits Empire at the Fatal height,  
When labouring and sinking with its weight,  
From thence a Thousand lesser Poets sprung  
Like petty Princes▪ from the fall of Rome;  
When johnson, Shakespeare, and thyself did sit,  
And swayed in the triumvirate of wit—  
Yet what from Johnson's oil and sweat did flow,  
Or what more easy Nature did bestow  
On Shakespear's gentler Muse, in thee full grown  
Their graces both appear, yet so, that none  
Can say here Nature ends, and Art begins,  
But mixed like th' Elements and born like twins,  
So interweaved, so like, so much the same,  
None, this mere Nature, that mere Art can name:  
'Twas this the Ancients meant; Nature and Skill  
Are the two tops of their Parnassus Hill.   

To Sir Richard Fanshaw upon his Translation of Pastor Fido.  
SUch is our Pride, our Folly, or our Fate,  
That few but such as cannot write, Translate.  
But what in them is want of Art, or voice,  
In thee is either Modesty or Choice.  
Whiles this great piece, restored by thee doth stand  
Free from the blemish of an Artless hand.  
Secure of Fame, thou justly dost esteem  
Less honour to create, than to redeem.  
Nor ought a Genius less than his that writ,  
Attempt Translation; for transplanted wit,  
All the defects of air and soil doth share,  
And colder brains like colder Climates are:  
In vain they toil, since nothing can beget  
A vital spirit, but a vital heat.  
That servile path thou nobly dost decline  
Of tracing word by word, and line by line.  
Those are the laboured births of slavish brains,  
Not the effects of Poetry, but pains;  
Cheap vulgar arts, whose narrowness affords  
No flight for thoughts, but poorly sticks at words.  
A new and nobler way thou dost pursue  
To make Translations and Translators too.  
They but preserve the Ashes, thou the Flame,  
True to his sense, but truer to his fame.  
Foording his current, where thou findest it low  
Lettest in thine own to make it rise and flow;  
Wisely restoring whatsoever grace  
It lost by change of Times, or Tongues, or Place.  
Nor fettered to his Numbers, and his Times,  
Betrayest his Music to unhappy Rhymes,  
Nor are the nerves of his compacted strength  
Stretched and dissolved into unsinnewed length:  
Yet after all, (lest we should think it thine)  
Thy spirit to his circle dost confine.  
New names, new dress, and the modern cast,  
Some Scenes from persons altered, had outfaced  
The world, it were thy work; for we have known  
Some thanked and praised for what was less their own.  
That Master's hand which to the life can trace  
The airs, the lines, and features of a face,  
May with a free and bolder stroke express  
A varied posture, or a flattering Dress;  
He could have made those like, who made the rest,  
But that he knew his own design was best.   

A Dialogue between Sir John Pooley and Mr. Thomas Killigrew.  P. 

TO thee dear Thom. myself addressing,  
Most queremoniously confessing,  
That I of late have been compressing.   

Destitute of my wont Gravity,  
I perpetrated Arts of Pravity,  
In a contagious Concavity.   

Making efforts with all my Puissance,  
For some Venereal Reiovissance,  
I got (as one may say) a nuysance.   K. 

Come leave this fooling Cousin Pooley,  
And in plain English tell us truly  
Why under th' eyes you look so blewly?   

'Tis not your hard words will avail you,  
Your Latin and your Greek will fail you,  
Till you speak plainly what doth all you.   

When young, you led a life Monastic,  
And wore a Vest Ecclesiastic;  
Now in your Age you grow Fantastic.   P. 

Without more Preface or Formality,  
A Female of Malignant Quality  
Set fire on Label of Mortality.   

The Faeces of which Ulceration,  
Brought o'er the Helm a Distillation,  
Through the Instrument of Propagation.   K. 

Then Cousin, (as I guess the matter)  
You have been an old Fornicater,  
And now are shot 'twixt wind and Water.   

Your style has such an ill complexion,  
That from your breath I fear infection,  
That even your mouth needs an injection.   

You that were once so oeconomick,  
Quitting the thrifty style Laconic,  
Turn Prodigal in Makeronick.   

Yet be of comfort, I shall send a  
Person of knowledge who can mend a  
Disaster in your nether end-a—   

Whether it Pullen be or Shanker,  
Cordee and crooked like an Anchor,  
Your cure too costs you but a spanker.   

Or though your Piss be sharp as Razor,  
Do but confer with Dr. Frazer,  
he'll make your Running Nag a Pacer.   

Nor shall you need your Silver quick Sir,  
Take Mongo Murry's Black Elixir,  
And in a week it Cures your P—Sir.   

But you that are a Man of Learning,  
So read in Virgil, so discerning,  
Methinks towards fifty should take warning.   

Once in a Pit you did miscarry, 
Hunting near Paris he and his Horse fell into a Quarry   
That danger might have made one wary;  
This Pit is deeper than the Quarry.   P. 

Give me not such disconsolation,  
Having now cured my Inflammation,  
To Ulcerate my Reputation.   

Though it may gain the Lady's favour,  
Yet it may raise an evil savour  
Upon all grave and stayed behaviour.   

And I will rub my Mater Pia,  
To find a Rhyme to Gonorrheia,  
And put it in my Letania.    

An occasional Imitation of a Modern Author upon the Game of Chess.  

A Tablet stood of that abstersive Tree,  
Where aethiop's swarthy Bird did build her nest,  
Inlaid it was with Lybian Ivory,  
Drawn from the Jaws of Africks' prudent beast   

Two Kings like Saul, much Taller than the rest,  
Their equal Armies draw into the Field;  
Till one take th' other Prisoner they contest;  
Courage and Fortune must to Conduct yield.   

This Game the Persian Magis did invent,  
The force of Eastern Wisdom to express;  
From thence to busy Europaeans sent,  
And styled by Modern Lombard's pensive Chess.   

Yet some that fled from Troy to Rome report,  
Penthesilea Priam did oblige;  
Her Amazons, his Trojans taught this sport,  
To pass the tedious hours of ten years' Siege.   

There she presents herself, whilst King and Peers  
Look gravely on whilst fierce Bellona fights;  
Yet Maiden modesty her Motions steers,  
Nor rudely skips o'er Bishop's heads like Knights.    

The Passion of Dido for Aeneas.  
HAving at large declared Ioves Embassy,  
Cyllenius from Aeneas strait doth fly; 
Mercury.   
He loath to disobey the God's command,  
Nor willing to forsake this pleasant Land,  
Ashamed the kind Eliza to deceive,  
But more afraid to take a solemn leave;  
He many ways his labouring thoughts revolves,  
But fear o'recoming shame, at last resolves  
(Instructed by the God of Thiefs) to steal  
Himself away, 
Mercury.  and his escape conceal.  
He calls his Captains, bids them Rigg the Fleet,  
That at the Port they privately should meet;  
And some dissembled colour to project,  
That Dido should not their design suspect;  
But all in vain he did his Plot disguise:  
No Art a watchful Lover can surprise.  
She the first motion finds; Love though most sure,  
Yet always to itself seems unsecure;  
That wicked Fame which their first Love proclaimed,  
Foretells the end; The Queen with rage inflamed  
Thus greets him, thou dissembler wouldst thou fly  
Out of my arms by stealth perfidiously?  
Could not the hand I plighted, nor the Love,  
Nor thee the Fate of dying Dido move?  
And in the depth of Winter in the night,  
Dark as thy black designs to take thy flight,  
To plow the raging Seas to Coasts unknown,  
The Kingdom thou pretendest too not thine own;  
Were Troy restored, thou shouldst mistrust a wind  
False as thy Vows, and as thy heart unkind.  
Fliest thou from me? by these dear drops of brine  
I thee adjure, by that right hand of thine,  
By our Espousals, by our Marriagebed,  
If all my kindness ought have merited;  
If ever I stood fair in thy esteem,  
From ruin, me, and my lost house redeem.  
Cannot my Prayers a free acceptance find?  
Nor my Tears soften an obdurate mind?  
My Fame of Chastity, by which the Skies  
I reached before, by thee extinguished dies;  
Into my Borders now jarbas falls,  
And my revengeful Brother scales my walls;  
The wild Numindians will advantage take,  
For thee both Tire and Carthage me forsake.  
Hadst thou before they flight but left with me  
A young Aeneas, who resembling thee,  
Might in my sight have sported, I had then  
Not wholly lost, nor quite deserted been;  
By thee no more my Husband, but my Guest,  
Betrayed to mischiefs, of which death's the least.  
With fixed looks he stands, and in his Breast  
By Ioves command his struggling care suppressed;  
Great Queen, your favours and deserts so great,  
Though numberless, I never shall forget;  
No time, until myself I have forgot;  
Out of my heart Eliza's name shall blot:  
But my unwilling flight the Gods enforce,  
And that must justify our sad Divorce;  
Since I must you forsake, would Fate permit,  
To my desires I might my fortune fit;  
Troy to her Ancient Splendour I would raise,  
And where I first began, would end my days;  
But since the Lycian Lots, and Delphic God  
Have destined Italy for our abode;  
Since you proud Carthage (fled from Tyre) enjoy,  
Why should not Latium us receive from Troy?  
As for my Son, my Father's angry Ghost,  
Tells me his hopes by my delays are crossed,  
And mighty Ioves Ambassador appeared  
With the same message, whom I saw and heard  
We both are grieved when you or I complain,  
But much the more, when all complaints are vain;  
I call to witness all the Gods and thy  
Beloved head, the Coast of Italy  
Against my will I seek.  
Whilst thus he speaks, she rowls her sparkling eyes,  
Surveys him round, and thus incensed replies;  
Thy Mother was no Goddess, nor thy stock  
From Dardanus, but in some horrid rock,  
Perfidious wretch, rough Caucasus thee bred,  
And with their Milk Hyrcanian Tigers fed.  
Dissimulation I shall now forget,  
And my reserves of rage in order set;  
Could all my Prayers and soft Entreaties force  
Sighs from his Breast, or from his look remorse.  
Where shall I first complain? can Mighty jove  
Or juno such Impieties approve?  
The just Astraea sure is fled to Hell,  
Nor more in Earth, nor Heaven itself will dwell.  
Oh Faith! him on my Coasts by Tempest cast,  
Receiving madly, on my Throne I placed;  
His Men from Famine, and his Fleet from Fire  
I rescued: now the Lycian Lots conspire  
With Phoebus; now Ioves Envoyé through the Air  
Brings dismal tidings, as if such low care  
Could reach their thoughts, or their repose disturb;  
Thou art a false Impostor, and a Fourbe;  
Go, go, pursue thy Kingdom through the Main  
I hope if Heaven her Justice still retain,  
Thou shalt be wracked, or cast upon some rock,  
Where thou the name of Dido shalt invoke;  
I'll follow thee in Funeral flames, when dead  
My Ghost shall thee attend at Board and Bed,  
And when the Gods on thee their vengeance show,  
That welcome news shall comfort me below.  
This saying, from his hated sight she fled;  
Conducted by her Damsels to her bed;  
Yet restless she arose, and looking out,  
Beholds the Fleet, and hears the Seamen shout:  
When great Aeneas passed before the Guard,  
To make a view how all things were prepared.  
Ah cruel Love! to what dost thou enforce  
Poor Mortal Breasts? again she hath recourse  
To Tears, and Prayers, again she feels the smart  
Of a fresh wound from his tyrannic Dart.  
That she no ways nor means may▪ leave untried,  
Thus to her Sister she herself applied:  
Dear Sister, my resentment had not been  
So moving, if this Fate I had fore-seen;  
Therefore to me this last kind office do,  
Thou hast some interest in our scornful Foe,  
He trusts to thee the Counsels of his mind,  
Thou his soft hours, and free access canst find;  
Tell him I sent not to the Ilian Coast  
My Fleet to aid the Greeks; his Father's Ghost  
I never did disturb; ask him to lend  
To this the last request that I shall send,  
A gentle Ear; I wish that he may find  
A happy passage, and a prosperous wind.  
That contract I not plead, which he betrayed,  
Nor that his promised Conquest be delayed;  
All that I ask, is but a short Reprieve,  
Till I forget to love, and learn to grieve;  
Some pause and respite only I require,  
Till with my tears I shall have quenched my fire.  
If thy address can but obtain one day  
Or two, my Death that service shall repay.  
Thus she entreats; such messages with tears  
Condoling Anne to him, and from him bears;  
But him no Prayers, no Arguments can move,  
The Fates resist, his Ears are stopped by jove:  
As when fierce Northern blasts from th' Alps descend,  
From his firm roots with struggling gusts to rend  
An aged sturdy Oak, the rattling sound  
Grows loud, with leaves and scattered arms the ground  
Is overlaid; yet he stands fixed, as high  
As his proud head is raised towards the Sky,  
So low towards Hell his roots descend. With Prayers  
And Tears the Hero thus assailed, great cares  
He smothers in his Breast, yet keeps his Post,  
All their addresses and their labour lost.  
Then she deceives her Sister with a smile,  
Anne in the Inner Court erects a Pile;  
Thereon his Arms and once loved Portrait lay,  
Thither our fatal Marriagebed convey;  
All cursed Monuments of him with fire  
We must abolish (so the Gods require)  
She gives her credit, for no worse effect  
Then from Sichaeus death she did suspect,  
And her commands obeys.  
Aurora now had left Tithonus bed,  
And o'er the world her blushing Rays did spread;  
The Queen beheld as soon as day appeared,  
The Navy under Sail, the Haven cleared;  
Thrice with her hand her Naked Breast she knocks,  
And from her forehead tears her Golden Locks.  
O jove, she cried, and shall he thus delude  
Me and my Realm! why is he not pursued?  
Arm, Arm, she cried, and let our Tyrians board  
With ours his Fleet, and carry Fire and Sword;  
Leave nothing unattempted to destroy  
That perjured Race, then let us die with joy;  
What if the event of War uncertain were,  
Nor death, nor danger, can the desperate fear?  
But oh too late! this thing I should have done,  
When first I placed the Traitor on my Throne.  
Behold the Faith of him who saved from fire  
His honoured household gods, his Aged Sire  
His Pious shoulders from Troy's Flames did bear;  
Why did I not his Carcase piece-meal tear  
And cast it in the Sea? why not destroy  
All his Companions and beloved Boy  
Ascanius? and his tender limbs have dressed,  
And made the Father on the Son to Feast?  
Thou Sun, whose lustre all things here below  
Surveys; and juno conscious of my woe;  
Revengeful Furies, and Queen Hecate,  
Receive and grant my prayer! if he the Sea  
Must needs escape, and reach th' Ausonian land,  
If jove decree it, Jove's decree must stand;  
When landed, may he be with arms oppressed  
By his rebelling people, be distressed  
By exile from his Country, be divorced  
From young Ascanius' sight, and be enforced  
To implore Foreign aids, and lose his Friends  
By violent and undeserved ends:  
When to conditions of unequal Peace  
He shall submit, then may he nor possess  
Kingdom nor Life, and find his Funeral  
I'th' Sands, when he before his day shall fall:  
And ye oh Tyrians with immortal hate  
Pursue his race, this service dedicated  
To my deplored ashes; let there be  
'Twixt us and them no League nor Amity;  
May from my bones a new Achilles rise,  
That shall infest the Trojan Colonies  
With Fire, and Sword, and Famine, when length  
Time to our great attempts contributes strength;  
Our Seas, our Shores, our Armies theirs oppose,  
And may our Children be for ever Foes.  
A ghastly paleness deaths approach portends,  
Then trembling she the fatal pile ascends;  
Viewing the Trojan relics, she unsheathed  
Aeneas Sword, not for that use bequeathed:  
Then on the guilty bed she gently lays  
Herself, and softly thus lamenting prays:  
Dear Relics whilst that Gods and Fates gave leave,  
Free me from care, and my glad soul receive;  
That date which fortune gave I now must end,  
And to the shades a noble Ghost descend;  
Sichaeus blood by his false Brother spilt,  
I have revenged, and a proud City built;  
Happy, alas! too happy I had lived,  
Had not the Trojan on my Coast arrived;  
But shall I die without revenge? yet die,  
Thus, thus with joy to thy Sichaeus fly.  
My conscious Foe my Funeral fire shall view  
From Sea, and may that Omen him pursue.  
Her fainting hand let fall the Sword besmeared  
With blood, and then the Mortal wound appeared;  
Through all the Court the fright and clamours rise,  
Which the whole City fills with fears and cries,  
As loud as if her Carthage, or old Tyre  
The Foe had entered, and had set on Fire:  
Amazed Anne with speed ascends the stairs,  
And in her arms her dying Sister rears:  
Did you for this, yourself, and me beguile  
For such an end did I erect this Pile?  
Did you so much despise me, in this Fate  
Myself with you not to associate?  
Yourself and me, alas! this fatal wound  
The Senate, and the People, doth confound.  
I'll wash her Wound with Tears, and at her Death,  
My Lips from hers shall draw her parting Breath.  
Then with her Vest the Wound she wipes and dries;  
Thrice with her Arm the Queen attempts to rise,  
But her strength failing, falls into a swound,  
Life's last efforts yet striving with her Wound;  
Thrice on her Bed she turns, with wand'ring sight  
Seeking, she groans when she beheld the light;  
Then juno pitying her disastrous Fate,  
Sends Iris down, her Pangs to Mitigate,  
(Since if we fall before th' appointed day,  
Nature and Death continue long their Fray)  
Iris Descends; This Fatal lock (says she)  
To Pluto I bequeath, and set thee free,  
Then eclipse her Hair, cold Numbness straight bereaves  
Her Corpse of sense, and th' Airs her Soul receives.   


A Preface to the following Translation.  
GOing this last Summer to visit the Wells, I took an occasion (by the way) to wait upon an Ancient and Honourable Friend of mine, whom I found diverting his (then solitary) retirement with the Latin Original of this Translation, which (being out of Print) I had never seen before: when I looked upon it, I saw that it had formerly passed through two Learned hands, not without approbation; which were Ben Johnson, and Sir Kenelm Digby; but I found it, (where I shall never find myself) in the service of a better Master, the Earl of Bristol, of whom I shall say no more; for I love not to improve the Honour of the Living, by impairing that of the Dead; and my own Profession hath taught me, not to erect new Superstructions upon an old Ruin. He was pleased to recommend it to me for my companion at the Wells, where I liked the entertainment it gave me so well, that I undertook to redeem it from an obsolete English disguise, wherein an old Monk had clothed it, and to make as becoming a new Vest for it, as I could.  
The Author was a Person of Quality in Italy, his name Mancini, which Family matched since with the Sister of Cardinal Mazarine; he was co-temporary to Petrarch, and Mantuan, and not long before Torquato Tasso; which shows, that the Age they lived in, was not so unlearned, as that which preceded, or that which followed.  
The Author writ upon the four Cardinal Virtues▪ but I have Translated only the two first, not to turn the kindness I intended to him into an injury▪ for the two last are little more than repetitions and recitals of the first; and (to make a just excuse for him) they could not well be otherwise, since the two last Virtues are but descendants from the first; Prudence being the true Mother of Temperance, and true Fortitude the Child of justice..   

Of Prudence.  
Wisdom's first Progress is to take a View  
What's decent or un-decent, false or true.  
he's truly Prudent, who can separate  
Honest from Vile, and still adhere to that;  
Their difference to measure, and to reach,  
Reason well rectified must Nature teach.  
And these high Scrutinies are subjects fit  
For Man's all-searching and enquiring wit;  
That search of Knowledge did from Adam flow;  
Who wants it, yet abhors his wants to show.  
Wisdom of what herself approves, makes choice,  
Nor is led Captive by the Common voice.  
Clearsighted Reason Wisdoms Judgement leads,  
And Sense, her Vassal, in her footsteps treads.  
That thou to Truth the perfect way may'st know,  
To thee all her specific forms I'll show;  
He that the way to Honesty will learn,  
First what's to be avoided must discern.  
Thyself from flattering self-conceit defend,  
Nor what thou dost not know, to know pretend.  
Some secrets deep in abstruse Darkness lie;  
To search them, thou wilt need a piercing Eye.  
Not rashly therefore to such things assent,  
Which undeceived, thou after may'st repent;  
Study and Time in these must thee instruct,  
And others old experience may conduct.  
Wisdom herself her Ear doth often lend  
To Counsel offered by a faithful Friend.  
In equal Scales two doubtful matters lay,  
Thou may'st choose safely that which most doth weigh;  
'Tis not secure, this place, or that to guard,  
If any other entrance stand unbarred;  
He that escapes the Serpent's Teeth, may fail  
If he himself secure not from his Tayl.  
Who saith, who could such ill events expect?  
With shame on his own Counsels doth reflect;  
Most in the World doth self-conceit deceive,  
Who just and good, what e'er they act, believe;  
To their Wills wedded, to their Errors slaves,  
No man (like them) they think himself behaves.  
This stiff-necked Pride, nor Art, nor Force, can bend,  
Nor highflown hopes to Reasons Lure descend.  
Father's sometimes their children's Faults regard  
With Pleasure, and their Crimes with gifts reward.  
Ill Painters when they draw, and Poets write,  
Virgil and Titian, (self admiring) slight;  
Then all they do, like Gold and Pearl appears,  
And others actions are but Dirt to theirs;  
They that so highly think themselves above  
All other Men, themselves can only Love;  
Reason and Virtue, all that Man can boast  
O'er other Creatures, in those Brutes are lost.  
Observe (if thou this Fatal Error touch,  
Thou to thyself contributing too much)  
Those who are generous, humble, just, and wise,  
Who nor their Gold, nor themselves Idolise;  
To form thyself by their Example, learn,  
(For many Eyes can more than one discern)  
But yet beware of Counsels when too full,  
Number makes long disputes and graveness dull;  
Though their Advice be good, their Counsel wise,  
Yet Length still loses Opportunities:  
Debate destroys dispatch; as Fruits we see  
Rot, when they hang too long upon the Tree;  
In vain that Husbandman his Seed doth sow,  
If he his Crop, not in due season mow.  
A General sets his Army in Array  
In vain, unless he Fight, and win the day.  
'Tis Virtuous Action that must Praise bring forth,  
Without which, slow advice is little worth.  
Yet they who give good Counsel, Praise deserve,  
Though in the active part they cannot serve:  
In action, Learned Counselors their Age,  
Profession, or Disease, forbids t' engage.  
Nor to Philosophers is praise denied,  
Whose wise Instructions After-ages guide;  
Yet vainly most their Age in study spend;  
No end of writing Books, and to no end:  
Beating their brains for strange and hidded things,  
Whose Knowledge, nor Delight, nor Profit brings;  
Themselves with doubts both day and night perplex,  
Nor Gentle Reader please, or teach, but vex.  
Books should to one of these four ends conduce,  
For Wisdom, Piety, Delight, or Use.  
What need we gaze upon the spangled Sky?  
Or into Matters hidden Causes pry?  
To describe every City, Stream, or Hill  
I'th' World, our fancy with vain Arts to fill?  
What is't to hear a Sophister that pleads,  
Who by the Ears the deceived Audience leads?  
If we were wise, these things we should not mind,  
But more delight in easy matters find.  
Learn to live well, that thou may'st die so too;  
To live and die is all we have to do:  
The way (if no Digression's made) is even,  
And free access, if we but ask, is given.  
Then seek to know those things which make us blest,  
And having found them, lock them in thy Breast;  
Enquiring then the way, go on, nor slack,  
But mend thy pace, nor think of going back.  
Some their whole Age in these inquiries waste,  
And die like Fools before one step they passed;  
'Tis strange to know the way, and not t' advance,  
That Knowledge is far worse than Ignorance.  
The Learned teach, but what they teach, not do;  
And standing still themselves, make others go.  
In vain on Study, time away we throw,  
When we forbear to act the things we know.  
The Soldier that Philosopher well blamed,  
Who long and loudly in the Schools declaimed▪  
Tell (said the Soldier) venerable Sir  
Why all these Words, this Clamour, and this stir?  
Why do disputes in wrangling spend the day?  
Whilst one says only yea, and t' other nay.  
Oh, said the Doctor, we for Wisdom toiled,  
For which none toils too much: the Soldier smiled;  
YE are grey and old, and to some pious use  
This mass of Treasure you should now reduce:  
But you your store have hoarded in some bank,  
For which th' Infernal Spirits shall you thank.  
Let what thou learnest be by practice shown,  
'Tis said, that Wisdoms Children make her known.  
What's good doth open to th' enquirer stand,  
And itself offers to th' accepting hand;  
All things by Order and true Measures done,  
Wisdom will end, as well as she begun.  
Let early care thy main Concerns secure,  
Things of less moment may delays endure:  
Men do not for their Servants first prepare,  
And of their Wives and Children quit the care;  
Yet when we're sick, the Doctor's fetch't in haste,  
Leaving our great concernment to the last.  
When we are well, our hearts are only set  
(Which way we care not) to be Rich, or Great;  
What shall become of all that we have got;  
We only know that us it follows not;  
And what a trifle is a moment's Breath,  
Laid in the Scale with everlasting Death?  
What's Time, when on Eternity we think?  
A thousand Ages in that Sea must sink;  
Time's nothing but a word, a million  
Is full as far from Infinite as one.  
To whom thou much dost owe, thou much must pay,  
Think on the Debt against th' accompting-day;  
God, who to thee, Reason and Knowledge lent,  
Will ask how these two Talents have been spent.  
Let not low Pleasures thy high Reason blind,  
He's mad, that seeks what no man e'er could find.  
Why should we fond please our Sense, wherein  
Beasts us exceed, nor feel the stings of sin?  
What thoughts Mans Reason better can become,  
Then th' expectation of his welcome home?  
Lords of the World have but for Life their Lease,  
And that too, (if the Lessor please) must cease.  
Death cancels Nature's Bonds, but for our Deeds  
(That Debt first paid) a strict account succeeds;  
If here not cleared, no Surety-ship can Bail  
Condemned Debtors from th' Eternal Goal;  
Christ's Blood's our Balsam, if that cures us here,  
Him, when our Judge, we shall not find severe;  
His yoke is easy, when by us embraced,  
But loads and galls, if on our Necks 'tis cast.  
Be just in all thy actions, and if joined  
With those that are not, never change thy mind;  
If ought obstruct thy course, yet stand not still,  
But wind about, till thou have topped the Hill;  
To the same end Men several Paths may tread,  
As many Doors into one Temple lead;  
And the same hand into a fist may close,  
Which instantly a Palm expanded shows:  
Justice and Faith never forsake the Wise,  
Yet may occasion put him in Disguise;  
Not turning like the wind, but if the state  
Of things must change, he is not obstinate;  
Things past, and future with the present weighs▪  
Nor credulous of what vain rumour says:  
Few things by Wisdom are at first believed,  
An easy Ear deceives, and is deceived;  
For many Truths have often past for Lies,  
And Lies as often put on Truth's Disguise:  
As Flattery too oft like Friendship shows,  
So them, who speak plain Truth we think our Foes.  
No quick reply to dubious questions make,  
Suspense and caution still prevent mistake.  
When any great design thou dost intend,  
Think on the means, the manner, and the end:  
All great Concernments must delays endure;  
Rashness and haste make all things unsecure:  
And if uncertain thy Pretensions be,  
Stay till fit time wear out uncertainty;  
But if to unjust things thou dost pretend,  
ere they begin let thy Pretensions end.  
Let thy Discourse be such, that thou may'st give  
Profit to others, or from them receive:  
Instruct the Ignorant, to those that live  
Under thy care, good rules and patterns give;  
Nor is't the least of Virtues, to relieve  
Those whom afflictions or oppressions grieve.  
Commend but sparingly whom thou dost love;  
But less condemn whom thou dost not approve:  
Thy Friend, like Flattery, too much Praise doth wrong,  
And too sharp censure shows an evil tongue:  
But let inviolate Truth be always dear  
To thee, even before Friendship, Truth prefer;  
Then what thou meanest to give, still promise less;  
Hold fast the Power, thy Promise to increase:  
Look forward what's to come, and back what's past,  
Thy life will be with Praise and Prudence graced:  
What loss, or gain may follow thou may'st guests,  
Thou then wilt be secure of the success;  
Yet be not always on affairs intent,  
But let thy thoughts be easy, and unbent;  
When our Minds Eyes are disengaged and free,  
They clearer, farther, and distinctly see;  
They quicken sloth, perplexities untie,  
Make roughness smooth, and hardness mollify;  
And though our hands from labour are released,  
Yet our minds find (even when we sleep) no rest.  
Search not to find how other Men offend,  
But by that Glass thy own offences mend;  
Still seek to learn, yet care not much from whom,  
(So it be Learning) or from whence it come.  
Of thy own actions, others judgements learn,  
Often by small, great matters we discern:  
Youth, what Man's age is like to be doth show;  
We may our Ends by our Beginnings know.  
Let none direct thee what to do or say,  
Till thee thy Judgement of the Matter sway;  
Let not the pleasing many, thee Delight,  
First judge, if those whom thou dost please, judge right.  
Search not to find what lies too deeply hid,  
Nor to know things, whose knowledge is forbid;  
Nor climb on Pyramids, which thy head turns round  
Standing, and whence no safe Descent is found:  
In vain his Nerves, and Faculties he strains  
To rise, whose raising unsecure remains:  
They whom Desert and Favour forwards thrust,  
Are wise, when they their measures can adjust.  
When well at ease, and happy, live content,  
And then consider why that life was lent;  
When Wealthy, show thy Wisdom not to be  
To Wealth a Servant, but make Wealth serve thee.  
Though all alone, yet nothing think or do,  
Which nor a Witness, nor a Judge might know▪  
The highest Hill, is the most slippery place,  
And Fortune mocks us with a smiling face;  
And her unsteady hand hath often placed  
Men in high Power, but seldom hold them fast▪  
Against her than her forces Prudence joins,  
And to the Golden Mean herself confines.  
More in Prosperity is Reason tossed,  
Then Ships in Storms, their Helms and Anchors lost;  
Before fair Gales not all our Sails we bear,  
But with side Winds into safe Harbours steer;  
More Ships in Calms on a deceitful Coast,  
Or unseen Rocks, then in high Storms are lost.  
Who casts out threats and frowns, no man deceives,  
Time for resistance, and defence he gives;  
But Flattery still in sugared words betrays,  
And Poison in high tasted Meats conveys;  
So, Fortune's smiles unguarded Man surprise,  
But when she frowns, he arms, and her defies.   

Of justice..  
'TIS the first Sanction, Nature gave to Man,  
Each other to assist in what they can;  
Just or unjust, this Law for ever stands,  
All things are good by Law which she commands;  
The first step, Man towards Christ must justly live,  
Who t' us himself, and all we have did give;  
In vain doth man the name of Just expect,  
If his Devotions he to God neglect;  
So must we reverence God, as first to know  
Justice from him, not from ourselves doth flow;  
God those accepts who to Mankind are Friends,  
Whose Justice far as their own Power extends;  
In that they imitate the Power Divine,  
The Sun alike on Good and Bad doth shine;  
And he that doth no Good, although no Ill,  
Does not the office of the Just fulfil.  
Virtue doth Man to virtuous actions steer,  
'Tis not enough that he should Vice forbear;  
We live not only for ourselves to care,  
Whilst they that want it are denied their share.  
Wise Plato said, the world with men was stored,  
That secure each to other might afford;  
Nor are those succours to one sort confined,  
But several parts to several men consigned;  
He that of his own stores no part can give,  
May with his Counsel or his Hands relieve.  
If Fortune make thee powerful, give Defence  
Against Fraud, and Force, to naked Innocence:  
And when our Justice doth her Tributes pay,  
Method and Order must direct the way:  
First to our God we must with Reverence bow,  
The second honour to our Prince we owe;  
Next to Wives, Parents, Children, fit respect,  
And to our Friends and Kindred we direct:  
Then we must those, who groan beneath the weight  
Of Age, Disease, or Want, commiserate:  
Amongst those whom honest Lives can recommend,  
Our Justice more compassion should extend;  
To such, who thee in some distress did aid,  
Thy Debt of thanks with Interest should be paid:  
As Hesiod sings, spread waters o'er thy field,  
And a most just and glad increase 'twill yield;  
But yet take heed, lest doing good to one,  
Mischief and wrong be to another done;  
Such moderation with thy bounty join,  
That thou may'st nothing give that is not thine▪  
That Liberality is but cast away,  
Which makes us borrow what we cannot pay:  
And no access to wealth let Rapine bring;  
Do nothing that's not just, to be a King.  
Justice must be from Violence exempt,  
But Fraud's her only Object of Contempt.  
Fraud in the Fox, Force in the Lion dwells;  
But Justice both from humane hearts expels;  
But he's the greatest Monster (without doubt)  
Who is a Wolf within, a Sheep without;  
Nor only ill injurious actions are,  
But evil words and slanders bear their share.  
Truth Justice loves, and Truth Injustice fears,  
Truth above all things a Just man reveres:  
Though not by Oaths we God to witness call,  
He sees and hears, and still remembers all;  
And yet our attestations we may wrest,  
Sometimes to make the Truth more manifest;  
If by a Lie a man preserve his Faith,  
He Pardon, Leave, and absolution hath;  
Or if I break my Promise, which to thee  
Would bring no good, but prejudice to me.  
All things committed to thy trust, conceal,  
Nor what's forbid by any means reveal.  
Express thyself in plain, not doubtful words,  
That, ground for Quarrels or Disputes affords:  
Unless thou find occasion, hold thy tongue,  
Thyself or others, careless talk may wrong.  
When thou art called into public Power,  
And when a crowd of Suitors throng thy Door,  
Be sure no great Offenders escape their dooms,  
Small praise from Lenity▪ and Remissness comes;  
Crimes pardoned, others to those Crimes invite,  
Whilst Looker's on, severe Examples fright:  
When by a pardoned Murderer blood is spilt,  
The Judge that pardoned, hath the greatest guilt;  
Who accuse Rigour, make a gross mistake,  
One Criminal pardoned, may an hundred make;  
When Justice on Offenders is not done,  
Law, Government, Commerce, are overthrown;  
As besieged Traitors with the Foe conspire,  
T' unlock the Gates, and set the Town on Fire.  
Yet let not Punishment th' Offence exceed,  
Justice with Weight and Measure must proceed:  
Yet when pronouncing sentence, seem not glad,  
Such Spectacles, though they are just, are sad;  
Though what thou dost, thou ought'st not to repent,  
Yet Humane Bowels cannot but relent;  
Rather than all must suffer, some must die;  
Yet Nature must condole their misery;  
And yet if many equal guilt involve,  
Thou may'st not these condemn, and those absolve.  
Justice when equal Scales she holds, is blind,  
Nor Cruelty, nor Mercy, change her mind;  
When some escape for that which others die,  
Mercy to those, to these is Cruelty.  
A fine and slender Net the Spider weaves,  
Which little and light Animals receives;  
And if she catch a common Bee or Fly,  
They with a piteous groan, and murmur die;  
But if a Wasp or Hornet she entrap,  
They tear her Cords like Samson, and escape;  
So like a Fly the poor Offender dies;  
But like the Wasp, the Rich escapes, and flies.  
Do not if one but lightly thee offend,  
The punishment beyond the Crime extend;  
Or after warning the Offence forget;  
So God himself our failings doth remit.  
Expect not more from Servants then is just,  
Reward them well, if they observe their trust;  
Nor them with Cruelty or Pride invade,  
Since God and Nature them our Brothers made;  
If his Offence be great, let that suffice;  
If light, forgive, for no Man's always wise.    

The Preface.  
MY early Mistress, now my Ancient Muse,  
That strong Circaean liquor cease to infuse,  
Wherewith thou didst Intoxicate my youth,  
Now stoop with disenchanted wings to Truth;  
As the Dove's flight did guide Aeneas, now  
May thine conduct me to the Golden Bough;  
Tell (like a Tall Old Oak) how Learning shoots  
To Heaven Her Branches, and to Hell her Roots.   

The Progress of Learning.  
WHen God from Earth formed Adam in the East,  
He his own Image on the Clay impressed;  
As Subjects than the whole Creation came,  
And from their Nature's Adam them did Name,  
Not from experience, (for the world was new)  
He only from their Cause their Natures knew.  
Had Memory been lost with Innocence,  
We had not known the Sentence nor th' Offence;  
'Twas his chief Punishment to keep in store  
The sad remembrance what he was before;  
And though th' offending part felt mortal pain,  
Th' immortal part, its Knowledge did retain.  
After the Flood, Arts to Chaldaea fell,  
The Father of the faithful there did dwell,  
Who both their Parent and Instructor was;  
From thence did Learning into Egypt pass;  
Moses in all th' Egyptian Arts was skilled,  
When Heavenly power that chosen Vessel filled,  
And we to his High Inspiration owe,  
That what was done before the Flood, we know.  
From Egypt Arts their Progress made to Greece,  
Wrapped in the Fable of the Golden Fleece.  
Musaeus' first, than Orpheus civilize  
Mankind, and gave the world their Deities;  
To many Gods they taught Devotion,  
Which were the distinct faculties of one;  
The eternal cause, in their immortal lines  
Was taught, and Poets were the first Divines:  
God Moses first, than David did inspire,  
To compose Anthems for his Heavenly Choir;  
To th' one the style of Friend he did impart,  
On th' other stamped the likeness of his heart:  
And Moses, in the Old Original,  
Even God the Poet of the world doth call.  
Next those old Greeks, Pythagoras did rise,  
Then Socrates, whom th' Oracle called Wise;  
The Divine Plato Moral Virtue shows,  
Then his Disciple Aristotle rose,  
Who Nature's secrets to the world did teach,  
Yet that great Soul our Novelists impeach;  
Too much manuring filled that field with weeds,  
Whilst Sects, like Locusts, did destroy the seeds;  
The tree of Knowledge blasted by disputes,  
Produces sapless leaves instead of Fruits;  
Proud Greece, all Nations else, Barbarians held,  
Boasting her learning all the world excelled.  
Flying from thence, to Italy it came, 
Graecia Major.   
And to the Realm of Naples gave the Name,  
Till both their Nation and their Arts did come  
A welcome Trophy to Triumphant Rome;  
Then wheresoever her Conquering Eagles fled,  
Arts, Learning, and Civility were spread;  
And as in this our Microcosm, the heart  
Heat, Spirit, Motion gives to every part;  
So Rome's Victorious influence did disperse  
All her own Virtues through the Universe.  
Here some digression I must make t' accuse  
Thee my forgetful, and ingrateful Muse:  
Couldst thou from Greece to Latium take thy flight,  
And not to thy great Ancestor do Right?  
I can no more believe Old Homer blind  
Then those, who say the Sun hath never shined;  
The age wherein he lived, was dark, but he  
Could not want sight, who taught the world to see:  
They who Minerva from Ioves head derive,  
Might make Old Homer's Skull the Muse's Hive;  
And from his Brain, that Helicon distil,  
Whose Racy Liquor did his offspring fill.  
Nor old Anacreon, Hesiod, Theocrite  
Must we forget; nor Pindar's lofty Flight.  
Old Homer's soul at last from Greece retired;  
In Italy the Mantuan Swain inspired.  
When Great Augustus made wars Tempests cease  
His Haltion days brought forth the arts of Peace;  
He still in his Triumphant Chariot shines,  
By Horace drawn, and Virgil's mighty lines.  
'Twas certainly mysterious, that the Name 
Vates.   
Of Prophets and of Poets is the same;  
What the Tragedian wrote, 
Seneca.  the late success  
Declares was Inspiration, and not Guess:  
As dark a truth that Author did unfold,  
As Oracles, or Prophets e'er foretell:  
At last the Ocean shall unlock the Bound  
Of things, 
The Prophecy.  and a New World by Typhis found,  
Then Ages, far remote shall understand  
The Isle of Thule is not the farthest Land.  
Sure God, by these Discoveries, did design  
That his clear Light through all the World should shine,  
But the Obstruction from that Discord springs  
The Prince of Darkness makes 'twixt Christian Kings;  
That peaceful age, with happiness to Crown,  
From Heaven the Prince of Peace himself came down.  
Then, the true Sun of Knowledge first appeared,  
And the old dark mysterious Clouds were cleared,  
The heavy Cause of th' old accursed Flood  
Sunk in the sacred Deluge of his Blood.  
His Passion, Man from his first fall, redeemed;  
Once more to Paradise restored we seemed;  
Satan himself was bound, till th' Iron chain  
Our Pride did break, and him let loose again,  
Still the Old Sting remained, and Man began  
To tempt the Serpent, as He tempted Man;  
Then Hell sends forth her Furies, Avarice, Pride,  
Fraud, Discord, Force, Hypocrisy their Guide;  
Though the Foundation on a Rock were laid,  
The Church was undermined, and then betrayed;  
Though the Apostles, these events foretell,  
Yet, even the Shepherd did devour the Fold:  
The Fisher to convert the world began,  
The Pride convincing of vainglorious Man;  
But soon, his Follower grew a Sovereign Lord,  
And Peter's Keys exchanged for Peter's Sword,  
Which still maintains for his adopted Son  
Vast Patrimonies, though himself had none;  
Wresting the Text, to the old Giant's sense,  
That Heaven, once more, must suffer violence.  
Then subtle Doctors, Scriptures, made their prize,  
Casuists, like Cocks, struck out each others Eyes;  
Then dark distinctions, Reasons light disguised,  
And into Atoms, Truth anatomised.  
Then Mahomet's Crescent by our feuds increased,  
Blasted the learned Remainders of the East:  
That project, when from Greece to Rome it came,  
Made Mother Ignorance Devotions Dame;  
Then, He, whom Lucifer's own Pride did swell,  
His faithful Emissary, rose from Hell  
To possess Peter's Chair, that Hildebrand  
Whose foot on Mitres, then on Crowns did stand,  
And before that exalted Idol, all  
(Whom we call Gods on Earth) did prostrate fall.  
Then Darkness, Europe's face did overspread  
From lazy Cells, where superstition bred,  
Which, linked with blind Obedience, so increased  
That the whole world, some ages they oppressed;  
Till through those Clouds, the Sun of Knowledge broke,  
And Europe from her Lethargy did wake:  
Then, first our Monarches were acknowledged here  
That they, their Church's Nursing-fathers' were.  
When Lucifer no longer could advance  
His works on the false ground of Ignorance,  
New Arts he tries, and new designs he lays,  
Then, his well-studyed Masterpiece he plays;  
Loyola, Luther, Calvin he inspires  
And kindles, with infernal Flames, their fires,  
Sends their forerunner (conscious of th' event)  
Printing, his most pernicious Instrument:  
Wild Controversy then, which long had slept,  
Into the Press from ruin'd Cloisters leapt;  
No longer by Implicit faith we err,  
Whilst every Man's his own Interpreter;  
No more conducted now by Aaron's Rod,  
Lay-Elders, from their Ends, create their God.  
But seven wise men, the ancient world did know,  
We scarce know seven, who think themselves not so.  
When Man learned undefiled Religion,  
We were commanded to be all as one;  
Fiery disputes, that Union have calcined,  
Almost as many minds as men we find,  
And when that flame finds combustible Earth,  
Thence Fatuus fires and Meteors take their birth,  
Legions of Sects, and Infects come in throngs;  
To name them all, would tyre a hundred tongues.  
Such were the Centaurs of Ixion's race  
Who, a bright Cloud, for juno, did embrace,  
And such the Monsters of Chimeras kind,  
Lions before, and Dragons were behind.  
Then, from the clashes between Popes and Kings,  
Debate, like sparks from Flints collision, springs:  
As Ioves loud Thunderbolts were forged by heat,  
The like, our Cyclops, on their Anvils, beat;  
All the rich Mines of Learning, ransacked are  
To furnish Ammunition for this War:  
Uncharitable Zeal our Reason whets,  
And double Edges on our Passion sets;  
'Tis the most certain sign, the world's accursed,  
That the best things corrupted, are the worst;  
'Twas the corrupted Light of knowledge, hurled  
Sin, Death, and Ignorance o'er all the world;  
That Sun like this, (from which our fight we have)  
Gazed on too long, resumes the light he gave;  
And when thick mists of doubts obscure his beams,  
Our Guide is Error, and our Visions, Dreams;  
'Twas no false Heraldry, when madness drew  
Her Pedigree from those, who too much knew;  
Who in deep Mines, for hidden Knowledge, toils,  
Like Guns o'ercharged, breaks, misses, or recoils;  
When subtle Wits have spun their thread too fine,  
'Tis weak and fragile like Arachne's line:  
True Piety, without cessation tossed  
By Theories, the practic part is lost,  
And like a Ball bandied 'twixt Pride and Wit,  
Rather than yield, both sides the Prize will quit,  
Then whilst his Foe, each Gladiator foils,  
The Atheist looking on, enjoys the spoils.  
Through Seas of knowledge, we our course advance,  
Discovering still new worlds of Ignorance;  
And these Discoveries make us all confess  
That sublunary Science is but guests,  
Matters of fact, to man are only known,  
And what seems more, is mere opinion;  
The standers by, see clearly this event,  
All parties say they're sure, yet all dissent,  
With their new Light our bold Inspectors press  
Like Cham, to show their Father's Nakedness,  
By whose Example, after-ages may  
Discover, we more naked are then they;  
All humane wisdom to divine, is folly,  
This Truth, the wisest man made melancholy,  
Hope, or belief, or guests gives some relief,  
But to be sure we are deceived, brings grief;  
Who thinks his Wife is Virtuous, though not so,  
Is pleased, and patient, till the truth he know.  
Our God, when Heaven and Earth he did Create,  
Formed Man, who should of both participate,  
If our Lives Motions their's must imitate,  
Our knowledge, like our blood, must circulate.  
When like a Bridegroom from the East, the Sun  
Sets forth, he thither, whence he came doth run;  
Into Earth's Spongy Veins, the Ocean sinks  
Those Rivers to replenish which he drinks;  
So Learning which from Reason's Fountain springs,  
Back to the source, some secret Channel brings.  
'Tis happy when our Streams of Knowledge flow  
To fill their banks, but not to overthrow.  
Vt metit Autumnus fruges quas parturit Aestas,  
Sic Ortum Natura, dedit Deus his quoque Finem.  
FINIS.   

THE SOPHY. As it was Acted at the Private House in Black Friars by His Majesty's Servants.  
LONDON, Printed by I. M. for H. Herringman, at the Sign of the Blue Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1667.   

The Prologue.  
HIther ye come, dislike, and so undo  
The Players, and disgrace the Poet too;  
But he protests against your votes, and swears  
He'll not be tried by any, but his Peers;  
He claims his privilege, and says 'tis fit  
Nothing should be the judge of wit, but Wit.  
Now you will all be Wits, and be I pray;  
And you that discommend it, mend the Play:  
'Tis the best satisfaction, he knows then  
His turn will come, to laugh at you again.  
But Gentlemen, if ye dislike the Play,  
Pray make no words on't till the second day,  
Or third be passed: For we would have you know it,  
The loss will fall on us, not on the Poet:  
For he writes not for money, nor for praise,  
Nor to be called a Wit, nor to wear Bays:  
Cares not for frowns or smiles: so now you'll say,  
Then (why the Devil) did he write a Play?  
He says, 'twas then with him, as now with you,  
He did it when he had nothing else to do.   

Actors.  
Scena Persia.  

Abbas, King of Persia.  
Mirza, the Prince, his Son.  
Erythaea, the Princess, his Wife.  


Enemies to the Prince.  
Haly, the King's Favourite.  
Mirvan, Haly's Confident.    


Two Lords, Friends to the Prince.  
Abdall,  
Morat,    
Caliph.  
Solyman, a foolish Courtier.  
Soffy, the Prince his Son, now King of Persia.  
Fatyma, his Daughter.  
2 Turkish Pashas.  
3 Captains.  
2 Women.  
Physician,  
Tormentors.    

THE SOPHY.  

Actus Primus.  
Enter Abdall and Morat. Mor. 
MY Lord, you have good intelligence,  
What news from the Army,  
Any certainty of their design or strength?  Abd. 
We know not their design: But for their strength,  
The disproportion is so great, we cannot but  
Expect a fatal consequence.  Mor. 
How great my Lord?  Abd. 
The Turks are fourscore thousand Foot,  
And fifty thousand Horse. And we in the whole  
Exceed not forty thousand.  Mor. 
Methinks the Prince should know  
That judgement's more essential to a General,  
Than Courage, if he prove victorious  
'Tis but a happy rashness.  Abd. 
But if he lose the battle, 'tis an error  
Beyond excuse, or remedy, considering  
That half the Lesser Asia will follow  
The Victor's fortune.  Mor. 
'Tis his single virtue  
And terror of his name, that walls us in  
From danger, were he lost, the naked Empire  
Would be a prey exposed to all Invaders.  Abd. 
But is't not necessary  
The King should know his danger?  Mor. 
To tell him of so great a danger,  
Were but to draw a greater on ourselves:  
For though his eye is open as the mornings,  
Towards lusts & pleasures, yet so fast a lethargy  
Has seized his powers towards public cares and dangers,  
He sleeps like death.  Abd. 
He's a man of that strange composition,  
Made up of all the worst extremities  
Of youth, and age.  Mor. 
And though  
He feels the heats of youth, and colds of age,  
Yet neither tempers, nor corrects the other;  
As if there were an Ague in his nature  
That still inclines to one extreme.  Abd. 
But the Caliph, or Haly, or some that know  
His softer hours, might best acquaint him with it.  Mor. 
Alas, they show him nothing  
But in the glass of flattery, if any thing  
May bear a show of glory, fame, or greatness,  
'Tis multiplied to an immense quantity,  
And stretched even to Divinity:  
But if it tend to danger, or dishonour,  
They turn about the Perspective, and show it  
So little, at such distance, so like nothing,  
That he can scarce discern it.  Abd. 
'Tis the fate of Princes, that no knowledge  
Comes pure to them, but passing through the eyes  
And ears of other men, it takes a tincture  
From every channel; and still bears a relish  
Of Flattery, or private ends.  Mor. 
But danger and necessity  
Dare speak the truth.  Abd. 
But commonly  
They speak not till it is too late:  
And for Haly,  
He that shall tell him of the Prince's danger,  
But tells him that himself is safe.   

Scena Secunda.  Enter King, Princess, and Solyman. King. 
Clear up, clear up, sweet Erythaea,  
That cloud that hangs upon thy brow presages  
A greater storm than all the Turkish power  
Can throw upon us, methinks I see my fortune  
Settling her looks by thine, and in thy smile  
Sits victory, and in thy frown our ruin:  
Why should not hope  
As much erect our thoughts, as fear deject them;  
Why should we  
Anticipate our sorrows? 'Tis like those  
That die for fear of death:  
What is't you doubt, his courage or his fortune?  Princess. 
Envy itself could never doubt his courage.  King. 
Then let not love do worse, by doubting that  
Which is but valour's slave; a wise, well-tempered valour,  
For such is his, those Giant's death and danger,  
Are but his Ministers, and serve a Master  
More to be feared than they; & the blind Goddess  
Is led amongst the Captives in his triumph.  Princess. 
I had rather she had eyes, for if she saw him  
Sure she would love him better; but admit  
She were at once a Goddess, and his slave,  
Yet fortune, valour, all is overborne  
By numbers: as the long resisting Bank  
By the impetuous Torrent.  King. 
That's but rumour:  
ne'er did the Turk invade our Territory,  
But Fame and Terror doubled still their files:  
But when our Troops encountered, than we found  
Scarce a sufficient matter for our fury.  One brings word of a Messenger. 
Solyman conduct him in,  
'Tis surely from the Prince.  Enter Post, and delivers a Letter. King. 
Give it our Secretaries, I hope the Prince is well.  Post. 
The Letter will inform you.  (Enter a Mess. Mess. 
Sir, the Lords attend you.  Ex. Princess. Enter Lords. King. 
What news from the Army?  Lord. 
Please you to hear the Letter.  King. 
Read it.  Lord. 
The Turk enraged with his last years overthrow,  
Hath reinforced his Army with the choice of all his Janisars,  
And the flower of his whole Empire, we  
Understand by some fugitives, that he hath commanded  
The Generals to return with victory, or expect  
A shameful death: what I shall further do,  
(Their numbers five times exceeding ours)  
I desire to receive directions from your Majesty's command.  King. 
Send away all our Guards  
Let fresh supplies of victuals, and of money.  Lord. 
Your Treasures  
Are quite exhausted, the Exchequer's empty.  King. 
Send to the Bankers.  Ab. 
Sir, upon your late demands  
They answered they were poor.  King. 
Sure the Villains hold a correspondence  
With the enemy, and thus they would betray us:  
First give us up to want, then to contempt,  
And then to ruin; but tell those sons of earth  
I'll have their money, or their heads.  Wind a horn. 
'Tis my command, when such occasions are  
No Plea must serve; 'tis cruelty to spare.  Another Messenger. Exeunt Lords. King. 
The Prince transported with his youthful heat,  
I fear hath gone too far: 'Tis some disaster,  
Or else he would not send so thick: well, bring him in;  
I am prepared to hear the worst of evils.  Enter Solyman and two Captains. Cap. kisses his hand. King. 
What is the Prince besieged in his Trenches,  
And must have speedy aid, or die by famine?  
Or hath he rashly tried the chance of War,  
And lost his Army, and his Liberty?  
Tell me what Province they demand for ransom:  
Or if the worst of all mishaps hath fallen,  
Speak, for he could not die unlike himself:  
Speak freely; and yet methinks I read  
Something of better fortune in thy looks,  
But dare not hope it.  Capt. 
Sir, the Prince lives.  King. 
And hath not lost his honour?  Cap. 
As safe in honour as in life.  King. 
Nor liberty?  Cap. 
Free as the air he breathes.  King. 
Return with speed:  
Tell him he shall have money, victuals, men,  
With all the haste they can be levied.  Farewell. Offers to go. Cap. 
But Sir, I have one word more.  King. 
Then be brief.  Cap. 
So now you are prepared; and I may venture.  King. 
What is't?  Cap. 
Sir, a Father's love mixed with a Father's care.  
This showing dangers greater, and that nearer,  
Have raised your fears too high; and those removed,  
Too suddenly would let in such a deluge  
Of joy, as might oppress your aged spirits,  
Which made me gently first remove your fears,  
That so you might have room to entertain  
Your fill of joy: Your Son's a Conqueror.  King. 
Delude me not with feigned hopes, false joys,  
It cannot be. And if he can but make  
A fair Retreat, I shall account it more  
Than all his former conquests, (those huge numbers  
Armed with despair) the flower of all the Empire.  Cap. 
Sir, I have not used to tell you tales or fables,  
And why should you suspect your happiness,  
Being so constant. On my life 'tis true Sir.  King. 
Well, I'll no more suspect  
My fortune, nor thy faith:  
Thou and thy news most welcome:  Solyman 
Go call the Princess and the Lords, they shall  
Participate our joys, as well as cares.  Enter Princess and Lords. King. 
Fair daughter, blow away those mists & clouds,  
And let thy eyes shine forth in their full lustre;  
Invest them with thy loveliest smiles, put on  
Thy choicest looks: his coming will deserve them.  Princess. 
What, is the Prince returned with safety?  
'Tis beyond belief or hope.  King. 
ay, sweet Erythaea;  
Laden with spoils and honour: all thy fears,  
Thy wakeful terrors, and affrighting dreams,  
Thy morning sighs, and evening tears have now  
Their full rewards. And you my Lords,  
Prepare for Masques & Triumphs: Let no circumstance  
Be wanting, that becomes  
The greatness of our State, or Joy.  
Behold he comes.  Enter Prince with Captains, and two Captive Pashas. King. 
Welcome brave son, as welcome to thy father  
As Phoebus was to jove, when he had slain  
Th' ambitious Giants that assailed the sky;  
And as my power resembles that of Ioves,  
So shall thy glory like high Phoebus' shine  
As bright and as immortal,  Prince. 
Great Sir, all acquisition  
Of Glory as of Empire, here I lay before  
Your Royal feet, happy to be the Instrument  
To advance either: Sir I challenge nothing,  
But am an humble suitor for these prisoners,  
The late Commanders of the Turkish powers,  
Whose valours have deserved a better fortune.  King. 
Then what hath thine deserved? theyare thine brave Mirzah,  
Worthy of all thy Royal Ancestors,  
And all those many Kingdoms, which their virtue,  
Or got, or kept, though thou hadst not been born to't.  
But daughter still your looks are sad,  
No longer I'll defer your joys, go take him  
Into thy chaste embrace, and whisper to him  
That welcome which those blushes promise.  Exit King. Prince. 
My Erythaea, why entertainest thou with so sad a brow  
My long desired return? thou wast wont  
With kisses and sweet smiles, to welcome home  
My victories, though bought with sweat and blood;  
And long expected.  Princess. 
Pardon Sir;  
'Tis with our souls  
As with our eyes, that after a long darkness  
Are dazzled at the approach of sudden light:  
When i'th' midst of fears we are surprised  
With unexpected happiness: the first  
Degrees of joy are mere astonishment.  
And 'twas so lately in a dreadful dream  
I saw my Lord so near destruction,  
Deprived of his eyes, a wretched Captive;  
Then shrickt myself awake, than slept again  
And dreamt the same; my ill presaging fancy  
Suggesting still 'twas true.  Prince. 
Then I forgive thy sadness, since love caused it,  
For love is full of fears; and fear the shadow  
Of danger, like the shadow of our bodies,  
Is greater then, when that which is the cause  
Is farthest off  Princess. 
But still there's something  
That checks my joys,  
Nor can I yet distinguish  
Which is an apparition, this, or that.  Prince. 
An apparition?  
At night I shall resolve that doubt, and make  
Thy dreams more pleasing.  Exeunt. Enter Haly and Mirvan. Mir. 
The time has been, my Lord,  
When I was no such stranger to your thoughts,  
You were not wont to wear upon your brow  
A frown, or smile, but still have thought me worthy,  
At least to know the cause.  Ha. 
'Tis true,  
Thy breast hath ever been the Cabinet  
Where I have locked my secrets.  Mir. 
And did you ever find  
That any art could pick the lock, or power  
Could force it open.  Ha. 
No, I have ever found thee  
Trusty and secret. But is't observed i'th' Court  
That I am sad?  Mir. 
Observed? 'tis all men's wonder and discourse,  
That in a Joy so great, so universal,  
You should not bear a part.  Ha. 
Discoursed of too?  Mir. 
Nothing but treason  
More commonly, more boldly spoken.  
So singular a sadness  
Must have a cause as strange as the effect:  
And grief concealed, like hidden fire consumes;  
Which flaming out, would call in help to quench it.  Ha. 
But since thou canst not mend it,  
To let thee know it, will but make thee worse;  
Silence and time shall cure it.  Mir. 
But in diseases when the cause is known,  
'Tis more than half the cure: you have my Lord  
My heart to counsel, and my hands to act,  
And my advice and actions both have met  
Success in things unlikely.  Ha. 
But this  
Is such a secret, I dare hardly trust it  
To my own soul. And though it be a crime  
In friendship to betray a trusted Counsel,  
Yet to conceal this were a greater crime,  
And of a higher nature. Mir. Now I know it,  
And your endeavour to conceal it.  
Speaks it more plainly. 'Tis some plot upon the Prince.  Ha. 
Oh thou hast touched my Sore, and having searched it,  
Now heal it if thou canst: The Prince hates me,  
Or loves me not, or loves another better;  
Which is all one. This being known in Court,  
Has rendered me despised, and scorned of all:  
For I that in his absence  
Blazed like a star of the first magnitude,  
Now in his brighter sunshine am not seen:  
No applications now, no troops of suitors;  
No power, no not so much as to do mischief.  Mir. 
My Lord, I am ashamed of you,  
So ill a master in an art, so long  
Professed, and practised by you, to be angry,  
And angry with a Prince. And yet to show it  
In a sad look, or womanish complaint:  
How can you hope to compass your designs,  
And not dissemble 'em. Go flatter & adore him,  
Stand first among the crowd of his admirers.  Ha. 
Oh I have often spread those nets, but he  
Hath ever been too wise to think them real.  Mir. 
However,  
Dissemble still, thank him for all his injuries;  
Take 'em for favours; if at last  
You cannot gain him; some pretty nimble poison  
May do the feat. Or if he will abroad,  
Find him some brave and honourable danger.  Ha. 
Have I not found him out as many dangers  
As juno did for Hercules: yet he returns  
Like Hercules, doubled in strength and honour.  Mir. 
If danger cannot do it, then try pleasure,  
Which when no other enemy survives,  
Still conquers all the Conquerors. Endeavour  
To soften his ambition into lust,  
Contrive fit opportunities, and lay  
Baits for temptation.  Ha. 
I'll leave nothing unattempted:  
But sure this will not take; for all his Passions,  
Affections, and Faculties are slaves  
Only to his ambition.  Mir. 
Then let him fall by his own greatness,  
And puff him up with glory, till it swell  
And break him. First, betray him to himself,  
Then to his ruin: From his virtues suck a poison,  
As Spiders do from flowers; praise him to his Father,  
You know his nature: Let the Prince's glory  
Seem to eclipse, and cast a cloud on his;  
And let fall something that may raise his jealousy:  
But lest he should suspect it, draw it from him  
As Fishers do the bait, to make him follow it.  Ha. 
But the old King is so suspicious.  Mir. 
But withal  
Most fearful: He that views a Fort to take it,  
Plants his Artillery against the weakest part:  
Work on his fears, till fear hath made him cruel;  
And cruelty shall make him fear again.  
Methinks (my Lord) you that so oft have sounded  
And fathomed all his thoughts, that know the deeps  
And shallows of his heart, should need no instruments  
To advance your ends; his passions, and his fears  
Lie Leigers for you in his breast, and there  
Negotiate your affairs.  Enter King, Solyman, and Lords to them. King. 
Solyman, Be it your care to entertain the Captains  
And the Prisoners, & use them kindly.  Sol. 
Sir, I am not for entertainments now I am melancholy.  King. 
What, grieved for your good fortune?  Sol. 
No Sir, but now the wars are done, we have no pretences  
To put off Creditors: I am haunted Sir.  King. 
Not with Ghosts.  Sol. 
No Sir,  
Material and Substantial Devils.  King. 
I know the cause, what is't thou ow'st them?  Sol. 
Not much Sir, but so much as spoils me for a good fellow;  
'Tis but 2000 Dollars. A small sum— to you Sir.  King. 
Well, it shall be paid.  Sol. 
Then if the Devil come, for drinking let me alone with him.  
Well, Drink, I love thee but too well already,  
But I shall love thee better hereafter: I have often  
Drunk myself into debt, but never out of debt till now.  Exeunt. 
Finis Actus primi.    

Actus Secundus.  

Scena Prima.  Enter Prince, Haly, Captains and Prisoners, Pashas. Prince. 
Pray let these strangers find such entertainment  
As you would have desired,  
Had but the chance of war determined it  
For them, as now for us. And you brave enemies  
Forget your Nation, and ungrateful Master;  
And know that I can set so high a price  
On valour, though in foes, as to reward it  
With trust and honour.  1. Bashaw. 
Sir, your twice conquered Vassals,  
First by your courage, than your clemency,  
Here humbly vow to sacrifice their lives,  
(The gift of this your unexampled mercy)  
To your commands and service.  Prince to Haly. 
I pray (my Lord) second my suit,  
I have already moved the King in private,  
That in our next years expedition they may have Some command.  Ha. 
I shall, my Lord,  
And glad of the occasion. aside.  
I wonder Sir, you'll leave the Court, the sphere  
Where all your graces in full lustre shine.  Prince. 
I Haly, but the reputation  
Of virtuous actions passed, if not kept up  
With an access, and fresh supply of new ones,  
Is lost and soon forgotten: and like Palaces,  
For want of habitation and repair,  
Dissolve to heaps of ruin.  Ha. 
But can you leave, Sir,  
Your old indulgent Father, and forsake  
The embraces of so fair, so chaste a Wife?  
And all the beauties of the Court besides,  
Are mad in love, and dote upon your person:  
And is't not better sleeping in their arms,  
Than in a cold Pavilion in the Camp?  
Where your short sleeps are broke and interrupted  
With noises and alarms.  Prince. 
Haly, Thou knowst not me, how I despise  
These short and empty pleasures; and how low  
They stand in my esteem, which every Peasant,  
The meanest Subject in my Father's Empire  
Enjoys as fully, in as high perfection  
As he or I; and which are had in common  
By beasts as well as men: wherein they equal,  
If not exceed us; pleasures to which we're led  
Only by sense, those creatures which have least  
Of reason, most enjoy.  Ha. 
Is not  
The Empire you are born to, a Scene large enough  
To exercise your virtues? There are virtues  
Civil as well as military; for the one  
You have given the world an ample proof already:  
Now exercise the other, 'tis no less  
To govern justly, make your Empire flourish  
With wholesome laws, in riches, peace & plenty,  
Than by the expense of wealth and blood to make  
New acquisitions.  Prince. 
That I was born so great, I owe to Fortune,  
And cannot pay that debt, till virtue set me  
High in example, as I am in title;  
Till what the world calls fortune's gifts, my actions  
May style their own rewards, and those too little.  
Princes are then themselves, when they arise  
More glorious in men's thoughts than in their eyes.  Ha. 
Sir, your fame  
Already fills the world, and what is infinite  
Cannot receive degrees, but will swallow  
All that is added; as our Caspian Sea  
Receives our Rivers, and yet seems not fuller:  
And if you tempt her more, the wind of fortune  
May come about, and take another point  
And blast your glories.  Prince. 
No,  
My glories are past danger, they're full blown:  
Things that are blasted, are but in their bud;  
And as for fortune, I nor love, nor fear her:  
I am resolved, go Haly, flatter still your aged Master,  
Still soothe him in his pleasures, and still grow  
Great by those arts.  
Well, farewell Court,  
Where vice not only hath usurped the place,  
But the reward, and even the name of virtue.  Ha. 
Still, still,  
Slighted and scorned; yet this affront  
Hath stamped a noble title on my malice,  
And married it to Justice. The King is old,  
And when the Prince succeeds,  
I'm lost past all recovery: then I  
Must meet my danger, and destroy him first;  
But cunningly, and closely, or his son  
And wife, like a fierce Tygress will devour me.  
There's danger every way; and since 'tis so,  
'Tis brave, and noble, when the falling weight  
Of my own ruin crushes those I hate:  
But how to do it, that's the work; he stands  
So high in reputation with the people,  
There's but one way, and that's to make his father  
The instrument, to give the name, and envy  
To him; but to myself the prize and glory.  
He's old and jealous, apt for suspicions, against which Tyrants ears  
Are never closed. The Prince is young,  
Fierce, and ambitious, I must bring together  
All these extremes, and then remove all Mediums,  
That each may be the others object.  Enter Mirvan. Mir. 
My Lord,  
Now if your plots be ripe, you are befriended  
With opportunity; the King is melancholy,  
Apted for any ill impressions.  
Make an advantage of the Prince's absence,  
Urge some suspected cause of his departure,  
Use all your art: he's coming.  Exit Mir. Enter King. Ha. 
Sir, have you known an action of such glory  
Less swelled with ostentation, or a mind  
Less tainted with felicity? 'Tis a rare temper in the Prince.  King. 
Is it so rare to see a son so like  
His Father? Have not I performed actions  
As great, and with as great a moderation?  Ha. 
I Sir, but that's forgotten.  
Actions o'th' last Age are like Almanacs o'th' last Year.  King. 
'Tis well; but with all his conquests, what I get in Empire  
I lose in fame: I think myself no gainer.  
But am I quite forgotten?  Ha. 
Sir, you know  
Age breeds neglect in all, and actions  
Remote in time, like objects  
Remote in place, are not beheld at half their greatness;  
And what is new, finds better acceptation,  
Than what is good or great: yet some old men  
Tell Stories of you in their chimney corners.  King. 
No otherwise.  Ha. 
They're all so full of him: some magnify  
His courage, some his wit, but all admire  
A greatness so familiar.  King. 
Sure Haly  
Thou hast forgot thyself: art thou a Courtier,  
Or I a King? my ears are unacquainted  
With such bold truths; especially from thee.  Ha. 
Sir, when I am called to't, I must speak  
Boldly and plainly.  King. 
But with what eagerness, what circumstance,  
Unasked, thou tak'st such pains to tell me only  
My son's the better man.  Ha. 
Sir, where Subjects want the privilege  
To speak; there Kings may have the privilege,  
To live in ignorance.  King. 
If 'twere a secret that concerned my life  
Or Empire, than this boldness might become thee;  
But such nnnecessary rudeness savours  
Of some design.  
And this is such a false and squint-eyed praise,  
Which seeming to look upwards on his glories,  
Looks down von my fears; I know thou hat'st him;  
And like infected persons fain wouldst rub  
The ulcer of thy malice upon me.  Ha. 
Sir, I almost believe you speak your thoughts,  
But that I want the guilt to make me fear it.  King. 
What mean these guilty blushes then?  Ha. 
Sir, if I blush, it is because you do not,  
To upbraid so tried a servant, that so often  
Have waked that you might sleep; and been exposed  
To dangers for your safety.  King. 
And therefore think'st  
Thou art so wrapped, so woven into all  
My trusts and counsels, that I now must suffer  
All thy Ambition aims at.  Ha. 
Sir, if your love grows weary,  
And thinks you have worn me long enough, I'm willing  
To be left off; but he's a foolish Seaman,  
That when his Ship is sinking, will not  
Unlade his hopes into another bottom.  King. 
I understand no Allegories.  Ha. 
And he's as ill a Courtier, that when  
His Master's old, desires not to comply  
With him that must succeed.  King. 
But if  
He will not be complied with?  Ha. 
Oh Sir,  
There's one sure way, and I have known it practised  
In other States.  King. 
What's that?  Ha. 
To make  
The Father's life the price of the son's favour,  
To walk upon the graves of our dead Masters  
To our own security.  King starts and scratches his head. Ha. aside. 
'Tis this must take: Does this plainness please you Sir?  King. 
Haly: thou knowst my nature, too too apt  
To these suspicions; but I hope the question  
Was never moved to thee.  Ha. 
In other kingdoms, Sir.  King. 
But has my Son no such design?  Ha. 
Alas,  
You know I hate him; and should I tell you  
He had, you'd say it was but malice.  King. 
No more of that good Haly, I know thou lov'st me:  
But lest the care of future safety tempt thee  
To forfeit present loyalty; or present loyalty  
Forfeit thy future safety,  
I'll be your reconciler: call him hither:  Ha. 
Oh Sir, I wish he were within my call, or yours.  King. 
Why where is he?  Ha. 
He has left the Court, Sir.  King. 
I like not these Excursions, why so suddenly?  Ha. 
'Tis but a sally of youth, yet some say he's discontented.  King. 
That grates my heartstrings. What should discontent him?  
Except the think I live too long.  Ha. 
Heaven forbid:  
And yet I know no cause of his departure;  
I'm sure he's honoured, and loved by all;  
The Soldier's god, the People's Idol.  King. 
ay, Haly,  
The Persians still worship the rising sun.  
But who went with him?  Ha. 
None but the Captains.  King. 
The Captains? I like not that.  Ha. 
Never fear it, Sir:  
'Tis true, they love him but as their General, not their Prince.  
And though he be most forward and ambitious,  
'Tis tempered with so much humility.  King. 
And so much the more dangerous;  
There are some that use  
Humility to serve their pride, and seem  
Humble upon their way, to be the prouder  
At their wished journeys end.  Ha. 
Sir, I know not  
What ways or ends you mean; 'tis true  
In popular States, or where the Prince's Title  
Is weak, & must be propped by the people's power;  
There by familiar ways 'tis necessary  
To win on men's affections. But none of these  
Can be his end.  King. 
But there's another end.  
For if his glories rise upon the ruins  
Of mine, why not his greatness too?  Ha. 
True Sir,  
Ambition is like love, impatient  
Both of delays and rivals. But Nature.—  King. 
But Empire.—  Ha. 
I had almost forgot Sir, he has  
A suit to your Majesty.  King. 
What is't?  Ha. 
To give the Turkish prisoners some command  
In the next action.  King. 
Nay, then 'tis too apparent,  
He fears my Subject's loyalty,  
And now must call in strangers; come deal plainly,  
I know thou canst discover more.  Ha. 
I can discover (Sir)  
The depth of your great judgement in such dangers.  King. 
What shall I do Haly?  Ha. 
Your wisdom is so great, it were presumption for me to advise.  King. 
Well, we'll consider more of that, but for the present  
Let him with speed be sent for. Mahomet, I thank thee  
I have one faithful servant, honest Haly.  Exit King Enter Mirvan. Mir. 
How did he take it?  Ha. 
Swallowed it as greedily  
As parched earth drinks rain.  
Now the first part of our design is over,  
His ruin; but the second, our security,  
Must now be thought on.  Mir. 
My Lord, you are too sudden; though his fury  
Determine rashly, yet his colder fear  
Before it executes, consults with reason,  
And that not satisfied with shows, or shadows,  
Will ask to be convinced by something real;  
Now must we frame some plot, and then discover it.  Ha. 
Or intercept some Letter, which ourselves  
Had forged before.  Mir. 
And still admire the miracle,  
And thank the providence.  Ha. 
Then we must draw in some body  
To be the public Agent, that may stand  
'Twixt us and danger, and the people's envy.  Mir. 
Who fitter than the grand Caliph?  
And he will set a grave religious face  
Upon the business.  Ha. 
But if we cannot work him,  
For he's so full of foolish scruples;  
Or if he should prove false, and then betray us.  Mir. 
Betray us? sure (my Lord) your fear has blinded  
Your understanding; for what serves the King?  
Will not his threats work more than our persuasions,  
While we look on, and laugh, and seem as ignorant  
As unconcerned; and thus appearing friends  
To either side, on both may work our ends.  Enter Mess. Mess. 
My Lord, the Turkish Bashaws  
Desire access  Ha. 
Admit 'em, I know their business.  Mir. 
They long to hear with what success  
The King in their behalf.  Ha. 
But now they're come, I'll make 'em do you moved  
Better than I did theirs. my business  Mir. 
Leave us a while.  Ex. Mir. Enter two Bashaws. Ha. 
My Lords, my duty and affection to the  
Prince,  
And the respects I owe to men of honour,  
Extort a secret from me, which yet I grieve to utter:  
The Prince departing, left to me the care  
Of your affairs, which I, as he commanded,  
Have recommended to the King, but with so unlooked for  
A success—  1. Bas. 
My Lord, fear not to speak our doom, while we  
Fear not to hear it: we were lost before,  
And can be ready now to meet that fate  
We then expected.  Ha. 
Though he that brings unwelcome news  
Has but a losing Office, yet he that shows  
Your danger first, and then your way to safety,  
May heal that wound he made. You know the  
King  
With jealous eyes hath ever looked awry  
On his Sons actions, but the fame and glory  
Of the last war hath raised another spirit;  
Envy and Jealousy are twined together,  
Yet both lay hid in his dissembled smiles,  
Like two concealed serpents, till I, unhappy I,  
Moving this question, trod upon them both,  
And roused their sleeping angers; then casting from him  
His doubts, and strait confirmed in all his fears,  
Decrees to you a speedy death, to his own son  
A close restraint: but what will follow  
I dare not think; you by a sudden flight may find your safety.  2 Bas. 
Sir, Death and we are not such strangers,  
That we should make dishonour, or ingratitude  
The price of life; it was the Prince's gift,  
And we but wear it for his sake and service.  Ha. 
Then for his sake and service  
Pray follow my advice: though you have lost the favour  
Of your unworthy Master; yet in the Provinces  
You lately governed, you have those dependences  
And interests, that you may raise a power  
To serve the Prince: I'll give him timely notice  
To stand upon his guard.  1 Bas. 
My Lord, we thank you,  
But we must give the Prince intelligence,  
Both when, and how to employ us.  Ha. 
If you will write,  
Commit it to my care and secrecy,  
To see it safe conveyed.  2 Bas. 
We shall my Lord.  Ex. Ha. 
These men were once the Prince's foes, and then  
Unwillingly they made him great: but now  
Being his friends, shall willingly undo him;  
And which is more, be still his friends.  
What little Arts govern the world! we need not  
An armed enemy, or corrupted friend;  
When service but misplaced, or love mistaken  
Performs the work: nor is this all the use  
I'll make of them; when once they are in Arms,  
Their Master shall be wrought to think these forces  
Raised against him; and this shall so endear me  
To him, that though dull virtue and the gods  
O'ercome my subtle mischief, I may find  
A safe retreat, and may at least be sure,  
If not more mighty, to be more secure.  Exeunt. 
Finis Actus Secundi.    

Actus Tertius.  

Scena Prima.  Enter King and Haly. King. 
But Haly, what confederates has the Prince  
In his conspiracy?  Ha. 
Sir, I can yet suspect  
None but the Turkish prisoners, and that only  
From their late sudden flight.  King. 
Are they fled? For what?  Ha. 
That, their own fears best know; their entertainment  
I'm sure was such as could not minister  
Suspicion, or dislike: but sure they're conscious  
Of some intended mischief, and are fled  
To put it into act.  King. 
This still confirms me more;  
But let 'em be pursued: let all the passages  
Be well secured, that no intelligence  
May pass between the Prince and them.  Ha. 
It shall be done, Sir.  King. 
Is the Caliph prepared?  Ha. 
He's without, Sir,  
And waits your pleasure.  King. 
Call him.  Enter Haly and Caliph. King. 
I have a great design to act, in which  
The greatest part is thine. In brief 'tis this,  
I fear my Sons high spirit; and suspect  
Designs upon my Life and Crown.  Ca 
Sure, Sir, your fears are causeless;  
Such thoughts are strangers to his noble soul.  King. 
No, 'tis too true; I must prevent my danger,  
And make the first attempt: there's no such way  
To avoid a blow, as to strike first, and sure.  Ca 
But, Sir, I hope my function shall exempt me  
From bearing any part in such designs.  King. 
Your function! [Laughs] Do you think that Princes  
Will raise such men so near themselves for nothing?  
We but advance you to advance our purposes:  
Nay, even in all Religions,  
Their Learned'st, and their seeming holiest men, but serve  
To work their Master's ends; and varnish o'er  
Their actions, with some specious pious colour:  
No scruples; do't, or by our holy Prophet,  
The death my rage intends to him, is thine.  Ca 
Sir, 'tis your part to will, mine to obey.  King. 
Then be wise and sudden.  Enter Lords as to Council. Ab. Mor. Ca 
My Lords, it grieves me to relate the cause  
Of this Assembly; and 'twill grieve you all:  
The prince you know stands high in all those graces  
Which Nature, seconded by fortune, gives:  
Wisdom he has, and to his Wisdom Courage;  
Temper to that, and unto all, Success. But  
Ambition, the disease of Virtue, bred  
Like surfeits from an undigested fullness,  
Meets death in that which is the means of life.  
Great Mahomet, to whom our Sovereign's life,  
And Empire is most dear, appearing, thus  
Advised me in a Vision; Tell the King,  
The Prince his Son attempts his Life & Crown;  
And though no creature lives that more admires  
His virtues, nor affects his person more  
Than I; yet zeal and duty to my Sovereign  
Have cancelled all respects; nor must we slight  
The Prophet's Revelations.  Abd. 
Remember, Sir, he is your Son,  
Endeared to you by a double bond,  
As to his King, and Father.  King. 
And the remembrance of that double bond  
Doubles my sorrows. 'Tis true,  
Nature and duty bind him to Obedience;  
But those being placed in a lower sphere,  
His fierce ambition, like the highest mover,  
Has hurried with a strong impulsive motion  
Against their proper course. But since he has forgot  
The duty of a son, I can forget  
The affections of a Father.  Abd. 
But, Sir, in the beginning of diseases  
None try the extremest remedies.  King. 
But when they're sudden,  
The cure must be as quick; when I'm dead, you'll say,  
My fears have been too slow: Treasons are acted,  
Assoon as thought, though they are ne'er believed  
Until they come to act.  Mor. 
But consider, Sir,  
The greatness of the attempt, the people love him;  
The lookers on, and the enquiring vulgar  
Will talk themselves to action: thus by avoiding  
A danger but supposed, you tempt a real one.  King. 
Those Kings whom envy, or the people's murmur  
Deters from their own purposes, deserve not  
Nor know not their own greatness;  
The people's murmur, 'tis a sulphurous vapour  
Breathed from the bowels of the basest earth;  
And it may soil, and blast things near itself:  
But ere it reach the region we are placed in,  
It vanishes to air; we are above  
The sense or danger of such storms.  Cap. 
True Sir, they are but storms while  
Royalty  
Stands like a Rock, and the tumultuous vulgar,  
Like billows raised with wind, (that's with opinion)  
May roar, and make a noise, and threaten;  
But if they roll too near, they're dashed in pieces  
While they stand firm.  Abd. 
Yet Sir, Crowns are not placed so high,  
But vulgar hands may reach'em.  King. 
Then 'tis when they are placed on vulgar heads.  Abd. 
But Sir,  
Look back upon yourself; why should your son  
Anticipate a hope so near, so certain? we may wish and pray  
For your long life: but neither prayers nor power  
Can alter Fates decree, or Natures Law.  
Why should he ravish then that Diadem  
From your grey temples, which the hand of time  
Must shortly plant on his?  King. 
My Lords,  
I see you look upon me as a Sun  
Now in his West, half buried in a cloud,  
Whose rays the vapours of approaching night  
Have rendered weak and faint: But you shall find  
That I can yet shoot beams, whose heat can melt  
The waxen wings of this ambitious Boy.  
Nor runs my blood so cold, nor is my arm  
So feeble yet, but he that dares defend him,  
Shall feel my vengeance, and shall usher me  
Into my grave.  Ab. 
Sir, we defend him not,  
Only desire to know his crime: 'Tis possible  
It may be some mistake, or misreport,  
Some false suggestion, or malicious scandal:  
Or if ambition be his fault, 'twas yours;  
He had it from you when he had his being:  
Nor was't his fault, nor yours, for 'tis in Princes  
A crime to want it; from a noble spirit  
Ambition can no more be separated,  
Than heat from fire: Or if you fear the Vision,  
Will you suspect the noble Prince, because  
This holy man is troubled in his sleep?  
Because his crazy stomach wants concoction,  
And breeds ill sums; or his melancholy spleen  
Sends up fantastic vapours to his brain:  
Dreams are but dreams, these causeless fears become not  
Your noble soul.  King. 
Who speaks another word  
Hath spoke his last: Great Mahomet we thank thee,  
Protector of this Empire, and this life,  
Thy cares have met my fears; this on presumptions  
Strong and apparent, I have long presaged:  
And though a Prince may punish what he fears,  
Without account to any but the Gods;  
Wise States as often cut off ills that may be,  
As those that are; and prevent purposes  
Before they come to practise; and foul practices  
Before they grow to act. You cannot but observe  
How he dislikes the Court, his rude departure,  
His honour from the people and the soldiers,  
His seeking to oblige the Turks, his prisoners,  
Their sudden and suspected flight:  
And above all, his restless towering thoughts.  A Horn wound without. King. 
If the business be important,  
Admit him.  Enter Post with a Letter. Post. 
Sir, upon your late command  
To guard the passages, and search all packets,  
This to the Prince was intercepted.  King opens it, and reads it to himself King. 
Here Abdal, read it.  Abdal reads. The Letter. Ab. 
reads. Sir, we are assured how unnaturally your father's intentions  
Are towards you, and how cruel towards us; we have  
Made an escape, not so much to seek our own,  
As to be instruments of your safety: We will be  
In arms upon the borders, upon your command,  
Either to seek danger with you, or to receive you  
If you please, to seek safety with us.  King. 
Now my Lords,  
Alas my fears are causeless, and ungrounded,  
Fantastic dreams, and melancholic fumes  
Of crazy stomaches, and distempered brains:  
Has this convinced you?  Mor. 
Sir, we see  
Some reason you should fear, but whom, we know not;  
'Tis possible these Turks may play the Villains,  
Knowing the Prince, the life of all our hopes,  
Staff of our Age, and pillar of our Empire;  
And having failed by force, may use this Art  
To ruin him, and by their treason here  
To make their peace at home.  
Now should this prove a truth, when he has suffered  
Death, or disgrace, which are to him the same;  
'Twill be too late to say you were mistaken;  
And then to cry him mercy: Sir, we beseech you  
A while suspend your doom, till time produce  
Her wont offspring, Truth.  King. 
And so expecting  
The event of what you think, shall prove the experiment  
Of what I fear; but since he is my son,  
I cannot have such violent thoughts toward him,  
As his towards me: he only shall remain  
A prisoner till his death or mine enlarge him.  Ex. Lords. Man. Haly. Solyman peeps in. King. 
Away, away, we're serious.  Sol. 
But not so serious to neglect your safety.  King. 
Art thou in earnest?  Sol. 
Nay Sir, I can be serious as well as my betters.  King. 
What's the matter?  Sol. 
No, I am an inconsiderable fellow, and know nothing.  King. 
Let's hear that nothing then.  Sol. 
The Turks, Sir.  King. 
What of them?  Sol. 
When they could not overcome you by force, they'll  
Do it by treachery.  King. 
As how?  Sol. 
Nay I can see as far into a millstone, as another man.  
They have corrupted some ill-affected persons.  King. 
What to do?  Sol. 
To nourish Jealousies 'twixt you and your Son.  King. 
My son! Where is he?  Sol. 
They say he's posting hither.  King. 
Haly, we are betrayed, prevented, look to the Ports, and let  
The Guards be doubled: how far's his Army hence?  
Is the City in arms to join with him?  Sol. 
Arms? and join with him? I understand you not.  King. 
Didst thou not say the Prince was coming?  Sol. 
I heard some foolish people say you had sent for  
Him, as a Traitor, which to my apprehension was on  
Purpose spoken to make you odious, and him desperate;  
And so divide the people into faction. A Plot of  
Dangerous consequence, as I take it, Sir.  King. 
And is this all, thou saucy trifling fool?  Haly. 
Sir, this seeming fool is a concealed dangerous knave;  
Under that safe disguise he thinks he may say or do  
Any thing: you'll little think him the chief conspirator,  
The only spy t'inform the Prince of all is done in Court.  King. 
Let him be racked, till he confess  
The whole conspiracy.  Sol. 
Racked! I have told you all I know, and more;  
There's nothing more in me, Sir, but may be squeezed  
Out without racking, only a stoop or two of Wine;  
And if there had not been too much of that, you had  
Not had so much of the other.  King. 
That's your cunning, sirrah.  Sol. 
Cunning, Sir! I am no Politician; and was ever thought to have  
Too little wit; and too much plain dealing for a Statesman.  Exit. King. 
Away with him.  Ha. 
But something must be done, Sir, to satisfy the people:  
'Tis not enough to say he did design,  
Or plot, or think, but did attempt some violence;  
And then some strange miraculous escape:  
For which our Prophet must have public thanks:  
And this false colour shall delude the eyes  
Of the amazed vulgar.  King. 
'Tis well advised.  Enter Mess. Mess. 
Sir, His Highness is returned.  King. 
And unconstrained? But with what change of countenance  
Did he receive the message?  Mess. 
With some amazement;  
But such as sprung from wonder, not from fear;  
It was so unexpected.  King. 
Leave us.  
Haly, I ever found thee honest; truer to me  
Than mine own blood, and now's the time to show it:  
For thou art he my love and trust hath chosen  
To put in action my design: surprise him  
As he shall pass the Galleries. I'll place  
A guard behind the Arras; when thou hast him,  
Since blinded with ambition, he did soar  
Like a seeled Dove; his crime shall be his punishment  
To be deprived of sight, which see performed  
With a hot steel: Now as thou lov'st my safety  
Be resolute, and sudden.  Ha. 
'Tis severe;  
But yet I dare not intercede, it shall be done:  
But is that word irrevocable?  King. 
ay, as years, or ages past; relent not, if thou dost—  Exit King. Enter Mirvan. Mir. 
Why so melancholy? is the design discovered?  Ha. 
No, but I am made the instrument,  
That still endeavoured to disguise my plots  
With borrowed looks, and make 'em walk in darkness,  
To act 'em now myself; be made the mark  
For all the people's hate, the Princess curses,  
And his son's rage, or the old King's inconstancy.  
For this to Tyranny belongs,  
To forget service, but remember wrongs.  Mir. 
But could not you contrive  
Some fine pretence to cast it on some other?  Ha. 
No, he dare trust no other: had I given  
But the least touch of any private quarrel,  
My malice to his son, not care of him,  
Had then begot this service.  Mir. 
'Tis but t'other plot, my Lord; you know  
The King by other wives had many sons:  
Soffy is but a Child, and you already  
Command the Emperor's Guard; procure for me  
The Government o'th' City; when he dies,  
Urge how unfortunate those States have been  
Whose Princes are but children: then set the Crown  
Upon some others head, that may acknowledge  
And owe the Empire to your gift.  Ha. 
It shall be done; Abdal, who commands  
The City, is the Prince's friend, and therefore  
Must be displaced, and thou shalt strait succeed him.  
Thou art my better Genius, honest Mirvan;  
Greatness we owe to Fortune, or to Fate;  
But wisdom only can secure that state.  Ex. Enter Prince at one door, and Princess at another. Princess. 
You're double welcome now (my Lord) your coming  
Was so unlooked for.  Prince. 
To me I'm sure it was;  
knowst thou the cause? for sure it was important,  
That calls me back so suddenly.  Princess. 
I am so ignorant,  
I knew not you were sent for.  
Waking I know no cause, but in my sleep  
My fancy still presents such dreams, and terrors,  
As did Andromache's the night before  
Her Hector fell; but sure 'tis more than fancy.  
Either our Guardian Angels, or the Gods  
Inspire us, or some natural instinct  
Foretells approaching dangers.  Prince. 
How does my Father?  Princess. 
Still talks and plays with Fatyma, but his mirth  
Is forced, and strained: In his look appears  
A wild distracted fierceness; I can read  
Some dreadful purpose in his face; but where  
This dismal cloud will break, and spend his fury,  
I dare not think: pray heaven make false his fears.  
Sometimes his anger breaks through all disguises,  
And spares not gods, nor men; and then he seems  
Jealous of all the world: suspects, and starts,  
And looks behind him.  Enter Morat, as in haste. Mor. 
Sir, with hazard of my life I've ventured  
To tell you, you are lost, betrayed, undone;  
Rouse up your courage, call up all your counsels,  
And think on all those stratagems which nature  
Keeps ready to encounter sudden dangers.  Prince. 
But pray (my Lord) by whom? for what offence?  Mor. 
Is it a time for story, when each minute  
Begets a thousand dangers? the gods protect you.  Ex. Prince. 
This man was ever honest, and my friend,  
And I can see in his amazed look,  
Something of danger; but in act or thought,  
I never did that thing should make me fear it.  Princess. 
Nay, good Sir, let not so secure a confidence  
Betray you to your ruin.  Prince. 
Prithee woman  
Keep to thyself thy fears, I cannot know  
That there is such a thing; I stand so strong,  
Enclosed with a double guard of Virtue,  
And Innocence, that I can look on dangers,  
As he that stands upon a Rock  
Can look on storms and tempests. Fear & guilt  
Are the same thing; & when our actions are not,  
Our fears are crimes.  
And he deserves it less that guilty bears  
A punishment, than he that guiltless fears.  Ex. Enter Haly and Torturers. Ha. 
This is the place appointed, assist me courage!  
This hour ends all my fears; but pause a while:  
Suppose I should discover to the Prince  
The whole conspiracy, and so retort it  
Upon the King; it were an handsome plot,  
But full of difficulties, and uncertain;  
And he's so fooled with downright honesty,  
He'll ne'er believe it; and now 'tis too late;  
The guards are set, and now I hear him coming.  Enter Prince, stumbles at the entrance. Prince. 
'Tis ominous, but I will on; destruction  
O'ertakes as often those that fly, as those that boldly meet it.  Ha. 
By your leave Prince, your father greets you.  Prince. 
Unhand me traitors.  [Haly casts a scarf over his face.] Ha. 
That title is your own, and we are sent to let you know it.  Prince. 
Is not that the voice of Haly that thunders in my ears?  Ha. 
ay, virtuous Prince, I come to make you exercise  
One virtue more, your patience.  [Heat the Irons quickly.] Prince. 
Insolent villain, for what cause?  Ha. 
Only to gaze upon a while, until your eyes are out.  Prince. 
O villain, shall I not see my Father,  
To ask him what's my crime? who my accusers?  
Let me but rry if I can wake his pity  
From his Lethargic sleep.  Ha. 
It must not be, Sir.  Prince. 
Shall I not see my wife, nor bid farewell  
To my dear Children?  Ha. 
Your prayers are all in vain.  Prince. 
Thou shalt have half my Empire Haly, let me but  
See the Tyrant, that before my eyes are lost,  
They may dart poisonous flashes like the Basilisk,  
And look him dead: These eyes that still were open,  
Or to foresee, or to prevent his dangers,  
Must they be closed in eternal night?  
Cannot his thirst of blood be satisfied  
With any but his own? And can his tyranny  
Find out no other object but his Son?  
I seek not mercy; tell him, I desire  
To die at once, not to consume an age  
In lingering deaths.  Ha. 
Our ears are charmed: Away with him.  Prince. 
Can ye behold (ye Gods) a wronged Innocent?  
Or sleeps your Justice, like my Father's Mercy?  
Or are you blind? as I must be.  
Finis Actus Tertii.    

Actus Quartus.  Enter Abd. and Morat. Ab. 
I ever feared the Princes too much greatness  
Would make him less: the greatest heights are near  
The greatest precipice.  Mor. 
'Tis in worldly accidents  
As in the world itself, where things most distant  
Meet one another: Thus the East and West,  
Upon the Globe, a Mathematic point  
Only divides: Thus happiness and misery,  
And all extremes are still contiguous.  Ab. 
Or, if 'twixt happiness and misery there be  
A distance, 'tis an Airy Vacuum;  
Nothing to moderate, or break the fall.  Mor. 
But oh this Saintlike Devil!  
This damned Caliph, to make the King believe  
To kill his son, 's religion.  Ab. 
Poor Princes, how are they misled!  
While they, whose sacred Office 'tis to bring  
Kings to obey their God, and men their King;  
By these mysterious links to fix and tie  
Them to the footstool of the Deity;  
Even by these men, Religion, that should be  
The curb, is made the spur to tyranny:  
They with their double key of conscience bind  
The Subject's souls, and leave Kings unconfined;  
While their poor Vassals sacrifice their bloods  
TO Ambition; and to Avarice, their goods:  
Blind with Devotion. They themselves esteem  
Made for themselves, and all the world for them;  
While heavens great Law, given for their guide, appears  
Just, or unjust, but as it waits on theirs:  
Used, but to give the echo to their words,  
Power to their wills and edges to their swords.  
To varnish all their errors, and secure  
The ills they act, and all the world endure.  
Thus by their arts Kings awe the world, while they,  
Religion, as their Mistress, seem t' obey;  
Yet as their slave command her: while they seem  
To rise to heaven, they make heaven stoop to them.  Mor. 
Nor is this all, where feigned devotion bends  
The highest things, to serve the lowest ends:  
For if the many-headed beast hath broke,  
Or shaken from his neck the royal yoke,  
With popular rage, Religion doth conspire,  
Flows into that, and swells the torrent higher;  
Then powers first pedigree from force derives,  
And calls to mind the old prerogatives  
Of freeborn man; and with a saucy eye  
Searches the heart and soul of Majesty:  
Then to a strict account, and censure brings  
The actions, errors, and the end of Kings;  
Treads on authority, and sacred Laws;  
Yet all for God, and his pretended cause,  
Acting such things for him, which he in them,  
And which themselves in others will condemn;  
And thus engaged, nor safely can retire,  
Nor safely stand, but blindly bold aspire,  
Forcing their hopes, even through despair, to climb  
To new attempts; disdain the present time,  
Grow from disdain to threats, from threats to arms;  
While they (though sons of peace) still sound th' alarms:  
Thus whether Kings or people seek extremes,  
Still conscience and religion are their Themes:  
And whatsoever change the State invades,  
The pulpit either forces, or persuades.  
Others may give the fuel, or the fire;  
But they the breath, that makes the flame, inspire.  Ab. 
This, and much more is true, but let not us  
Add to our ills, and aggravate misfortunes  
By passionate complaints, nor lose ourselves,  
Because we have lost him; for if the Tyrant  
Were to a son so noble, so unnatural;  
What will he be to us, who have appeared  
Friends to that son?  Mor. 
Well thought on, and in time;  
Farewell unhappy Prince, while we thy friends,  
As strangers to our Country, and ourselves,  
Seek out our safety, and expect with patience  
Heaven's Justice.  Ab. 
Let's rather act it, than expect it:  
The Prince's injuries at our hands require  
More than our tears, and patience:  
His Army is not yet disbanded,  
And only wants a head; thither we'll fly,  
And all who love the Prince, or hate the Tyrant,  
Will follow us.  Mor. 
Nobly resolved; and either we'll restore  
The Prince, or perish in the brave attempt.  
Ye Gods, since what we mean to execute,  
Is your high office (to avenge the innocent)  
Assist us with a fortune, equal to  
The justice of our action; lest the world  
Should think itself deluded, and mistrust  
That you want will, or power to be just.  Ex. Enter Haly. Ha. 
'Tis done, and 'twas my masterpiece, to work  
My safety 'twixt two dangerous extremes;  
Now like a skilful sailor have I past  
Scylla and Charybdis, I have 'scaped the rock  
Of steep Ambition, and the gulf of Jealousy,  
A danger less avoided, 'cause less feared.  Enter Mirvan. Mir. 
What's done, my Lord?  Ha. 
Enough, I warrant you; imprisoned, and deprived of sight.  Mir. 
No more? This but provokes him: Can you think  
Yourself secure, and he alive?  Ha. 
The rest o'th' business will do itself;  
He can as well endure a prison, as a wild Bull the net:  
There let him struggle, and toil himself to death,  
And save us so much envy.  Mir. 
But if his Father should relent, such injuries  
Can receive no excuse or colour, but to be  
Transferred upon his Counselors; and then  
The forfeiture of them redeems his error.  Ha. 
We must set a mark upon his passion,  
And as we find it running low,  
What ebbs from his, into our rage shall flow.  
Why, should we be more wicked  
Than we must needs?  Mir. 
Nay, if you stick at Conscience,  
More gallant actions have been lost, for want of being  
Completely wicked, than have been performed  
By being exactly virtuous. 'Tis hard to be  
Exact in good, or excellent in ill;  
Our will wants power, or else our power wants skill.  Ex. Enter Solyman, and Tormentors. Sol. 
But Gentlemen, was the King in earnest?  
I can scarce believe it.  Tor. 
You will when you feel it.  Sol. 
I pray, have any of you felt it, to tell me what it is?  Tor. 
No, Sir, but  
Some of your fellow Courtiers can tell you,  
That use something like it, to mend their shapes.  
'Twill make you so strait and slender!  Sol. 
Slender! because I was slender in my wits, must I be drawn  
Slender in my waste? I'd rather grow wise,  
And corpulent, like him they call Abdomen.  Tor. 
Come, Sir, 'tis but a little stretching.  Sol. 
No, no more's hanging; and sure this will be the death of me:  
I remember my Grandmother died of Convulsion fits.  Tor. 
Come, Sir, prepare, prepare.  Sol. 
ay, for another world: I must repent firk.  Tor. 
Quickly then.  Sol. 
Then first I repent that sin of being a Courtier.  
And secondly, the greatest sin one can commit in that place, the speaking of truth.  Tor. 
Have you no more sins?  Sol. 
Some few trifles more, not worth the remembering;  
Drinking, and whoring, and swearing, and such like:  
But for those let 'em pass.  Tor. 
Have you done now?  Sol. 
Only some good counsel to the standers▪ by.  Tor. 
We thank you for that, Sir.  Sol. 
Nay, Gentlemen, mistake me not;  
'Tis not that I love you, but because 'tis a thing of course  
For dying men.  Tor. 
Let's have it then.  Sol. 
First then, if any of you are fools (as I think that  
But a needless question) be fools still, and labour still  
In that vocation, than the worst will be but whipping;  
Where, but for seeming wise, the best is racking.  
But if you have the luck to be Court-fools, those that have  
Either wit or honesty, you may fool withal, and spare not:  
But for those that want either,  
You'll find it rather dangerous than otherwise;  
I could give you a modern  
Instance or two, but let that pass: but if you happen to be State-fools, then 'tis  
But fooling on the right side, and all's well; than you shall at least be  
Wise men's fellows, if not wise men's masters.  
But of all things take heed of giving any man good counsel,  
You see what I have got by it; and yet like a foo, must  
I be doing on't again.  Tor. 
Is this all?  Sol. 
All, but a little in my own behalf. Remember, Gentlemen,  
I am at full growth, and my joints are knit; and yet  
My sinews are not Cables.  Tor. 
Well, we'll remember't.  Sol. 
But stay, Gentlemen, what think you of a bottle now?  Tor. 
I hope you are more serious.  Sol. 
If you knew but how dry a thing this sorrow is,  
Especially meeting with my constitution; which is  
As thirsty as any Servingman's.  Tor. 
Let him have it, it may be 'twill make him confess.  Sol. 
Yes, I shall, I shall lay before you all that's within me,  
And with most fluent utterance.  
Here's to you all Gentlemen, and let him that's good  
Natured in his drink, pledge me.  [Drinks.] 
So, methinks I feel it in my joints already,  
It makes 'em supple.  [Drinks again.] 
Now I feel it in my brains, it makes 'em swim.  Tor. 
Hold, Sir, you have no measure of yourself.  Sol. 
What do you talk of measure, you'll take  
Measure of me with a vengeance?  Tor. 
You are witty, Sir.  Sol. 
Nothing but a poor clinch;  
I have a thousand of them (a trick I learned amongst the Statesmen.)  [Drinks again.] 
Well rack, I defy thee, do thy worst;  
I would thou were't Man, Giant, or Monster.  
Gentlemen, now if I happen to fall asleep  
Upon this Engine, pray wake me not too suddenly;  
You see here's good store of wine, and if it be  
Overracked, 'twill come up with lees and all;  
There I was with you again, and now I am for you.  Exeunt. Enter Prince, being blind, solus. Prince. 
Nature,  
How didst thou mock mankind to make him free  
And yet to make him fear; or when he lost  
That freedom, why did he not lose his fear?  
That fear of fears, the fear of what we know not,  
While yet we know it is in vain to fear it:  
Death, and what follows death, 'twas that that stamped  
A terror on the brow of Kings; that gave  
Fortune her Deity, and jove his thunder.  
Banish but fear of death, those Giant names  
Of Majesty, Power, Empire, finding nothing  
To be their object, will be nothing too:  
Then he dares yet be free that dares to die,  
May laugh at the grim face of Law and scorn,  
The cruel wrinkle of a Tyrant's brow:  
But yet to die so tamely,  
O'ercome by passion and misfortune,  
And still unconquered by my foes, sounds ill;  
Below the temper of my spirit:  
Yet to embrace a life so poor, so wretched,  
So full of deaths, argues a greater dulness;  
But I am dead already, nor can suffer  
More in the other world. For what is Hell,  
But a long sleepless night? and what's their torment,  
But to compare past joys with present sorrows?  
And what can death deprive me of? the sight  
Of day, of children, friends, and hope of Empire;  
And whatsoever others lose in death,  
In life I am deprived of; then I will live  
Only to die revenged: nor will I go  
Down to the shades alone.  
Prompt me some witty, some revengeful Devil,  
His Devil that could make a bloody feast  
Of his own son, and call the gods his guests;  
Her's that could kill her aged Sire, and cast  
Her Brother's scattered limbs to Wolves and Vultures;  
Or his that slew his Father, to enjoy  
His mother's bed; and greater than all those,  
My father's Devil.  
Come mischief, I embrace thee; fill my soul:  
And thou Revenge ascend, and bear the Sceptre  
O'er all my passions; banish thence  
All that are cool, and tame.  
Know old Tyrant,  
My heart's too big to break, I know thy fears  
Exceed my sufferings; and my revenge,  
Though but in hope, is much a greater pleasure  
Than thou canst take in punishing. Then my anger  
Sink to the Centre of my heart, and there  
Lie close in ambush, till my seeming patience  
Hath made the cruel Tyrant as secure,  
Though with as little cause, as now he's jealous.  
Whose there?  Enter two or three. 
I find my nature would return  
To her old course, I feel an inclination  
To some repose; welcome thou pleasing slumber:  
A while embrace me in thy leaden arms,  
And charm my careful thoughts:  
Conduct me to my bed.  Exit. Enter King, Haly and Caliph. King. 
How does the Prince? how bears he his restraint?  Ha. 
Why, Sir, as all great spirits  
Bear great and sudden changes, with such impatience  
As a Numidian Lion, when first caught,  
Endures the toil that holds him.  
He would think of nothing  
But present death, and sought all violent means  
To compass it. But time hath mitigated  
Those furious heats, he now returns to food  
And sleep, admits the conversation  
Of those that are about him.  King. 
I would I had not  
So easily believed my fears, I was too sudden;  
I would it were undone.  Cal. 
If you lament it,  
That which now looks like Justice, will be thought  
An inconsiderate rashness.  King. 
But there are in nature  
Such strong returns! That I punished him,  
I do not grieve; but that he was my Son.  Ha. 
But it concerns you to bear up your passion,  
And make it good; for if the people know,  
That you have cause to grieve for what is done,  
They'll think you had no cause at first to do it.  King to the Ca 
Go visit him from me, and teach him patience;  
Since neither all his fury, nor my sorrow  
Can help what's past, tell him my severity  
To him shall in some measure be requited,  
By my indulgence to his children. And if he desire it,  
Let them have access to him: endeavour to take off  
His thoughts from revenge, by telling him of  
Paradise, and I know not what pleasures  
In the other world.  Cal. 
I shall, Sir.  Ex. King and C. Ma. Haly. Enter Mirvan. Ha. 
Mirvan, The King relents, and now there's left  
No refuge but the last; he must be poisoned:  
And suddenly, lest he survive his Father.  Mir. 
But handsomely, lest it appear.  Ha. 
Appear!  
To whom? you know there's none about him  
But such as I have placed; and they shall say  
'Twas discontent, or abstinence.  Mir. 
But at the best  
'Twill be suspected.  Ha. 
Why though 't be known,  
We'll say he poisoned himself.  Mir. 
But the curious will pry further  
Than bare report, and the old King's suspicions▪  
Have piercing eyes.  Ha. 
But those nature  
Will shortly close: you see his old disease  
Grows strong upon him.  Mir. 
But if he should recover?  Ha. 
But I have cast his Nativity; he cannot, he must not.  
I'th' mean time I have so besieged him,  
So blocked up all the passages, and placed  
So many Sentinels and Guards upon him,  
That no intelligence can be conveyed  
But by my instruments. But this business will require  
More heads and hands than ours: Go you to the prison,  
And bring the Keeper privately to me,  
To give him his instructions.  Ex. several ways. Enter Prince and Caliph. Cal. 
Sir, I am commanded by the King  
To visit you.  Prince. 
What, to give a period to my life,  
And to his fears? You're welcome; here's a throat,  
A heart, or any other part, ready to let  
In death, and receive his commands.  Ca 
My Lord, I am no messenger, nor minister of death,  
'Tis not my function.  Prince. 
I should know that voice.  Ca 
I am the Caliph, and am come to tell you▪ your Father  
Is now returned to himself: Nature has got  
The victory o'er passion, all his rigour  
Is turned to grief and pity.  Prince. 
Alas good man!  
I pity him, and his infirmities;  
His doubts, and fears, and accidents of age,  
Which first provoked his cruelty.  Ca 
He bid me tell you,  
His love to yours should amply recompense  
His cruelty to you: And I dare say 'tis real;  
For all his thoughts, his pleasures, and delights▪  
Are fixed on Fatyma: when he is sad,  
She comforts him; when sick, she's his Physician.  
And were it not for the delight he takes  
In her, I think he'd die with sorrow.  Prince. 
But how, are his affections fixed so strangely  
On her alone? sure 'tis not in his nature;  
For than he had loved me, or hated her,  
Because she came from me.  Ca 
'Tis her desert,  
She's fair beyond comparison, and witty  
Above her age; and bears a manly spirit  
Above her sex.  Prince. 
But may not I admire her?  
Is that too great a happiness? pray let her make it  
Her next suit to be permitted to visit me herself.  Ca 
She shall, Sir: I joy to see your mind  
So well composed; I feared I should have found  
A tempest in your soul, and came to lay it.  
I'll to the King;  
I know to him that news will be  
Most acceptable.  Prince. 
Pray do, and tell him  
I have cast off all my passions, and am now  
A man again; fit for society  
And conversation.  Ca 
I will Sir.  Exit. Prince. 
I never knew myself till now; how on the sudden  
I'm grown an excellent dissembler, to outdo  
One at the first, that has practised it all his life:  
So now I am myself again, what is 't  
I feel within? Me thinks some vast design  
Now takes possession of my heart, and swells  
My labouring thoughts above the common bounds  
Of humane actions, something full of horror  
My soul hath now decreed, my heart does beat,  
As if 'twere forging thunderbolts for jove,  
To strike the Tyrant dead: So now, I have it,  
I have it, 'tis a gallant mischief,  
Worthy my Father, or my Fathers Son.  
All his delight's in Fatyma, poor innocent!  
But not more innocent than I, and yet  
My Father loves thee, and that's crime enough.  
By this act, old Tyrant,  
I shall be quit with thee: while I was virtuous,  
I was a stranger to thy blood, but now  
Sure thou wilt love me for this horrid crime,  
It is so like thy own. In this I'm sure,  
Although in nothing else, I am thy Son:  
But when 'tis done, I leave him yet that remedy  
I take myself, Revenge; but I as well  
Will rob him of his anger, as his joy,  
And having sent her to the shades,  
I'll follow her.  
But to return again, and dwell  
In his dire thoughts, for there's the blacker hell.  Enter Messenger. Mess. 
Sir, your wife the Princess is come to visit you.  Prince. 
Conduct her in; now to my disguise again.  Enter Princess. Princess. 
Is this my Lord the Prince?  Prince. 
That's Erythaea,  
Or some Angel voiced like her. 'Tis she, my struggling soul  
Would fain go out to meet and welcome her.  
Erythaea!  
No answer but in sighs (dear Erythaea?)  
Thou cam'st to comfort, to support my sufferings,  
Not to oppress me with a greater weight,  
To see that my Unhappiness  
Involves thee too.  Princess. 
My Lord, in all your triumphs and your glories,  
You called me into all your joys, and gave me  
An equal share, and in this depth of misery  
Can I be unconcerned? you needs must know,  
You needs must hope I cannot; or which is worse,  
You must suspect my love: for what is love  
But sympathy? And this I make my happiness,  
Since both cannot be happy,  
That we can both be miserable.  Prince. 
I prithee do not say thou lov'st me;  
For love, or finds out equals, or makes 'em so:  
But I am so cast down, and fallen so low,  
I cannot rise to thee, and dare not wish  
Thou shouldst descend to me; but call it pity,  
And I will own it then, that Kings may give  
To beggars, and not lessen their own greatness▪  Princess. 
Till now I thought virtue had stood above  
The reach of fortune; but if virtue be not,  
Yet love's a greater Deity: whatever fortune  
Can give or take, love wants not, or despises;  
Or by his own omnipotence supplies:  
Then like a God with joy beholds  
The beauty of his own Creations.  
Thus what we form and image to our fancies,  
We really possess.  Prince. 
But can thy imagination  
Delude itself, to fix upon an object  
So lost in miseries, so old in sorrows;  
Paleness and death hang on my cheek, and darkness  
Dwells in my eyes; more changed from what I was  
In person than in fortune.  Princess. 
Yet still the same to me:  
Alas my Lord, these outward beauties are but the props and scaffolds  
On which we built our love, which now made perfect,  
Stands without those supports: nor is my flame  
So earthy as to need the dull material fuel  
Of eyes, or lips, or cheeks, still to be kindled,  
And blown by appetite, or else t' expire:  
My fires are purer, and like those of Heaven,  
Fed only, and contented with themselves,  
Need nothing from without.  Prince. 
But the disgrace that waits upon misfortune,  
The mere reproach, the shame of being miserable,  
Exposes men to scorn and base contempt,  
Even from their nearest friends.  Princess. 
Love is so far from scorning misery,  
That he delights in 't, and is so kindly cruel,  
Sometimes to wish it, that he may be alone;  
In stead of all, of fortunes, honours, friends, which are  
But mere diversions from loves proper object,  
Which only it is self.  Prince. 
Thou hast almost  
Taught me to love my miseries, and forgive  
All my misfortunes. I'll at least forget 'em;  
We will revive those times, and in our memories  
Preserve, and still keep fresh (like flowers in water)  
Those happier days: when at our eyes our souls  
Kindled their mutual fires, their equal beams  
Shot and returned, till linked, and twined in one,  
They chained our hearts together.  Princess. 
And was it just, that fortune should begin  
Her tyranny, where we began our loves?  
No, if it had, why was not I blind too?  
I'm sure if weeping could have done't, I had been.  Prince. 
Think not that I am blind, but think it night,  
A season for our loves, and which to lovers  
ne'er seems too long; and think of all our miseries,  
But as some melancholy dream which has awaked us,  
To the renewing of our joys.  Princess. 
My Lord, this is a temper  
Worthy the old Philosophers.  Prince. 
I but repeat that lesson  
Which I have learned from thee. All this morality  
Thy love hath taught me.  Princess. 
My Lord, you wrong your virtue,  
T' ascribe the effect of that to any cause  
Less noble than itself.  Prince. 
And you your love,  
To think it is less noble, or less powerful,  
Than any the best virtue: and I fear thy love  
Will wrong itself; so long a stay will make  
The jealous King suspect we have been plotting:  
How do the pledges of our former love;  
Our Children?  Princess. 
Both happy in their Grandsire's love, especially  
The pretty Fatyma; yet she  
According to her apprehension feels  
A sense of your misfortunes.  Prince. 
But let her not too much express it,  
Lest she provoke his fury.  Princess. 
She only can allay it  
When 'tis provoked; she  
Plays with his rage, and gets above his anger;  
As you have seen a little boat  
To mount and dance upon the wave, that threatens  
To overwhelm it.  Prince. 
To threaten is to save, but his anger  
Strikes us like thunder, where the blow outflies  
The loud report, and even prevents men's fears.  Princess. 
But then like thunder  
It rends a Cedar, or an Oak, or finds  
Some strong resisting matter; women and children  
Are not Subjects worthy a Prince's anger.  Prince. 
Whatsoever  
Is worthy of their love is worth their anger.  Princess. 
Love's a more natural motion; they are angry  
As Princes, but love as men.  Prince. 
Once more I beg,  
Make not thy love thy danger.  Princess. 
My Lord, I see with what unwillingness  
You lay upon me this command, and through your fears  
Discern your love, and therefore must obey you.  Exit. Prince. 
Farewell my dearest Erythaea.  
There's a strange music in her voice, the story  
Of Orpheus, which appears so bold a fiction,  
Was prophesied of thee; thy voice has tamed  
The Tigers and the Lions of my soul.  Enter Messenger. Mess. 
Sir, your daughter Fatyma.  Prince. 
Conduct her in; how strangely am I tempted  
With opportunity, which like a sudden gust  
Hath swelled my calmer thoughts into a tempest?  
Accursed opportunity!  
The Midwife and the Bawd to all our vices,  
That workest our thoughts into desires, desires  
To resolutions; those being ripe, and quickened,  
Thou giv'st 'em birth, and bring'st 'em forth to action.  Enter Fat. and Messenger. Prince. 
Leave us, O opportunity!  
That when my dire and bloody resolutions,  
Like sick and froward children  
Were rocked asleep by reason or religion,  
Thou like a violent noise cam'st rushing in,  
And mak'st 'em wake and start to new unquietness.  
Come hither, pretty Fatyma,  
Thy Grandsire's darling, sit upon my knee:  
He loves thee dearly.  Fat. 
ay, Father, for your sake.  Prince. 
And for his sake I shall requite it.  
O virtue, virtue,  
Where art thou fled? thou wert my Reason's friend;  
But that like a deposed Prince has yielded  
His Sceptre to his base usurping vassals;  
And like a traitor to himself, takes pleasure  
In serving them.  Fat. 
But Father,  
I desired him that you might have liberty, and that  
He would give you your eyes again.  Prince. 
Pretty Innocence!  
'Tis not i'th' art, nor power of man to do it.  Fat. 
Must you never see again then, Father?  Prince. 
No, not without a miracle.  Fat. 
Why Father, I can see with one eye, pray take one  
Of mine.  Prince. 
I would her innocent prate could overcome me:  
O what a conflict do I feel! how am I  
Tossed like a ship 'twixt two encountering tides!  
Love that was banished hence, would fain return  
And force an entrance, but revenge  
(That's now the Porter of my soul) is deaf,  
Deaf as the Adder, and as full of poison.  
Mighty revenge! that single canst o'erthrow  
All those joint powers, which nature, virtue, honour,  
Can raise against thee.  Fat. 
What do you seek for, your handkerchief? pray use mine;  
To drink the bloody moisture from your eyes;  
I'll show't my Grandfather,  
I know 'twill make him weep.  
Why do you shake Father?  
Just so my Grandsire trembled at the instant  
Your sight was ta'en away.  Prince. 
And upon the like occasion.  Fat. 
O Father, what means the naked knife?  Prince. 
'Tis to requite thy Grandsire's love. Prepare  
To meet thy death.  Fat. 
O, 'tis I, 'tis I,  
Your daughter Fatyma!  Prince. 
I therefore do it.  Fat. 
Alas, was this the blessing my mother sent me to receive?  Prince. 
Thy Mother! Erythaea! There's something in that  
That shakes my resolution.  
Poor Erythaea, how wretched shall I make thee,  
To rob thee of a Husband and a Child?  
But which is worse, that first I fooled and won thee  
To a belief that all was well; and yet  
Shall I forbear a crime for love of thee,  
And not for love of virtue? But what's virtue?  
A mere imaginary sound, a thing  
Of speculation; which to my dark soul,  
Deprived of reason, is as indiscernible  
As colours to my body, wanting sight.  
Then being left to sense, I must be guided  
By something that my sense grasps and takes hold of;  
On then my love, and fear not to encounter  
That Giant, my revenge (alas poor Fatyma)  
My Father loves thee, so does Erythaea:  
Whether shall I by justly plaguing  
Him whom I hate, be more unjustly cruel  
To her I love? Or being kind to her,  
Be cruel to myself, and leave unsatisfied  
My anger and revenge? but Love, thou art  
The nobler passion, and to thee I sacrifice  
All my ungentle thoughts. Fatyma forgive me,  
And seal it with a kiss: What is't I feel?  
The spirit of revenge reinforcing  
New Arguments. Fly Fatyma,  
Fly while thou may'st, nor tempt me to new mischief,  
By giving means to act it; to this ill  
My will leads not my power, but power my will.  Ex. Fat. 
O what a tempest have I 'scaped, thanks to Heaven,  
And Erythaea's love!  
No: 'twas a poor, a low revenge, unworthy  
My virtues, or my injuries, and  
As now my fame, so than my infamy,  
Would blot out his; And I in stead of his Empire,  
Shall only be the heir of all his curses.  
No: I'll be still myself, and carry with me  
My innocence to th' other world, and leave  
My fame to this: 'twill be a brave revenge  
To raise my mind to a constancy, so high,  
That may look down upon his threats, my patience  
Shall mock his fury; nor shall he be so happy  
To make me miserable: and my sufferings shall  
Erect a prouder Trophy to my name,  
Than all my prosperous actions: Every Pilot  
Can steer the ship in calms, but he performs  
The skilful part, can manage it in storms.  
Finis Actus Quarti.   

Actus Quintus.  Enter Prince. Prince. 
If happiness be a substantial good,  
Not framed of accidents, nor subject to 'em,  
I erred to seek it in a blind revenge,  
Or think it lost in loss of sight, or Empire;  
'Tis something sure within us, not subjected  
To sense or sight, only to be discerned  
By reason, my soul's eye, and that still sees  
Clearly, and clearer for the want of these;  
For gazing through these windows of the body,  
It met such several, such distracting objects;  
But now confined within itself, it sees  
A strange, and unknown world, and there discovers  
Torrents of Anger, Mountains of Ambition;  
Gulfs of Desire, and Towers of Hope, huge Giants,  
Monsters, and savage Beasts; to vanquish these,  
Will be a braver conquest than the old  
Or the new world.  
O happiness of blindness! now no beauty  
Inflames my lust, no others good, my envy,  
Or misery, my pity: no man's wealth  
Draws my respect, nor poverty my scorn;  
Yet still I see enough. Man to himself  
Is a large prospect, raised above the level  
Of his low creeping thoughts; if then I have  
A world within myself, that world shall be  
My Empire; there I'll reign, commanding freely,  
And willingly obeyed, secure from fear  
Of foreign forces, or domestic treasons,  
And hold a Monarchy more free, more absolute  
Than in my Father's seat; and looking down  
With scorn or pity, on the slippery state  
Of Kings, will tread upon the neck of Fate.  Ex. Enter Bashaws disguised, with Haly. 1. Bash. 
Sir, 'tis of near concernment, and imports  
No less than the King's life and honour.  Ha. 
May not I know it?  Bash. 
You may, Sir. But in his presence we are sworn  
T' impart it first to him.  Ha. 
Our Persian State descends not  
To Interviews with strangers: But from whence  
Comes this discovery, or you that bring it?  2. Bash. 
We are, Sir, of Anatolia.  Ha. Anatolia? 
Herd you nothing  
Of two Villains that lately fled from hence?  1. Bash. 
The Bashaws, Sir?  Ha. 
The same.  2. Bash. 
They are nearer than you think for.  Ha. 
Where?  1. Bash. 
In Persia.  Ha. 
In arms again to ' tempt another slavery?  2. Bash. 
No, Sir, they made some weak attempts, presuming on  
The reputation of their former greatness:  
But having lost their fame and fortunes,  
'Tis no wonder they lost their friends; now hopeless and forlorn  
They are returned, and somewhere live obscurely,  
To expect a change in Persia; nor wilt be hard  
To find find.  Ha. 
Do't, and name your own rewards.  2. Bash. 
We dare do nothing till we have seen the King.  
And then you shall command us.  Ha. 
Well, though 'tis not usual,  
Ye shall have free access.  Exit Haly. Enter King and Haly. 1. Bash. 
Sir, there were two Turkish prisoners lately fled  
From hence for a supposed conspiracy  
Between the Prince and them.  King. 
Where are the Villains?  1. Bash. 
This is the Villain, 
They pull off their disguises.  Sir;  
And we the wrongfully accused:  
You gave life Sir,  
And we took it  
As a free noble gift; but when we heard  
'Twas valued at the price of your Son's honour,  
We came to give it back, as a poor trifle,  
Prized at a rate too high.  King. 
Haly, I cannot think my favours placed so ill,  
To be so ill requited; yet their confidence  
Has something in't that looks like innocence.  Ha. 
aside. Is't come to that? then to my last and surest refuge.  King. 
Sure if the guilt were theirs, they could not charge thee  
With such a gallant boldness: If 'twere thine,  
Thou couldst not hear't with such a silent scorn;  
I am amazed.  Ha. 
Sir, perplex your thoughts no further,  
They have truth to make 'em bold;  
And I have power to scorn it: 'twas I, Sir,  
That betrayed him, and you, and them.  King. 
Is this impudence, or madness?  Ha. 
Neither:  
A very sober, and sad truth— to you, Sir.  King. 
A Guard there.  Enter Mirvan, and others. King. 
Seize him.  Ha. 
Seize them; now  
Though 'tis too late to learn, yet know  
Against you are King again, what 'tis to let your Subjects  
Dispose all offices of trust and power:  
The beast obeys his keeper, and looks up,  
Not to his masters, but his feeders hand;  
And when you gave me power to dispense  
And make your favours mine, in the same hour  
You made yourself my shadow: and 'twas my courtesy  
To let you live, and reign so long.  King. 
Without there!  Enter two or three, and join with the others. 
What none but Traitors? Has this Villain  
Breathed treason into all, and with that breath,  
Like a contagious vapour, blasted Loyalty?  
Sure Hell itself hath sent forth all her Furies,  
T' inhabit and possess this place.  Ha. 
Sir, passions without power,  
Like seas against a rock, but lose their fury.  Mirvan, 
Take these Villains, and see 'em strangled.  1. Bash. 
Farewell, Sir, commend us to your son, let him know,  
That since we cannot die his servants,  
We'll die his Martyrs.  King. 
Farewell, unhappy friends,  
A long farewell, and may you find rewards  
Great as your Innocence; or which is more,  
Great as your wrongs.  2 Bash. 
Come, thou art troubled,  
Thou dost not fear to die?  1 Bash. 
No, but to lose my death,  
To sell my life so cheap, while this proud villain  
That takes it must survive.  2 Bash. 
We shall not lose our deaths,  
If Heaven can hear the cries of guiltless blood,  
Which sure it must; for I have heard th' are loud ones:  
Vengeance shall overtake thee.  Ha. 
Away with 'em.  King. 
Stay, Haly, they are innocent; yet life, when 'tis thy gift,  
Is worse than death, I disdain to ask it.  1 Bash. 
And we to take it.  Ha. 
Do not ask it, Sir,  
For them to whom you owe your ruin, they have undone you,  
Had not they told you this, you had lived secure,  
And happy in your ignorance; but this injury,  
Since 'tis not in your nature to forgive it,  
I must not leave it in your power to punish it.  King. 
Heaven, though from thee I have deserved this plague,  
Be thou my Judge and Witness, from this villain  
'Tis undeserved.  
Had I but felt your vengeance from some hand  
That first had suffered mine, it had been justice:  
But have you sent this sad return of all  
My love, my trust, my favours?  Ha. 
Sir, there's a great resemblance  
Between your favours, and my injuries;  
Those are too great to be requited, these  
Too great to be forgiven: and therefore  
'Tis but in vain to mention either.  King. 
Mirza, Mirza,  
How art thou lost by my deceived credulity?  
I'll beg thy pardon.  Ha. 
Stay, Sir, not without my leave:  
Go some of you, and let the people know  
The King keeps state, and will not come in public:  
If any great affairs, or State addresses,  
Bring 'em to me.  King. 
How have I taught the villain  
To act my part? but oh, my son, my son,  
Shall I not see thee?  Ha. 
For once you shall, Sir,  
But you must grant me one thing.  King. 
Traitor, dost thou mock my miseries?  
What can I give but this unhappy life?  Ha. 
Alas! Sir, it is but that I ask, and 'tis my modesty  
To ask it, it being in my power to take it:  
When you shall see him, Sir, to die for pity,  
'Twere such a thing, 'twould so deceive the world,  
And make the people think you were good natured;  
'Twill look so well in story, and become  
The stage so handsomely.  King. 
I ne'er denied thee any thing, and shall  
not now  
Deny thee this, though I could stand upright  
Under the tyranny of age and fortune;  
Yet the sad weight of such ingratitude  
Will crush me into earth.  Ha. 
Lose not your tears, but keep  
Your lamentations for your son, or sins:  
For both deserve 'em: but you must make haste, Sir,  
Or he'll not stay your coming.  He looks upon a watch. 
'Tis now about the hour the poison  
Must take effect.  King. 
Poisoned? oh Heaven!  Ha. 
Nay, Sir, lose no time in wonder, both of us  
Have much to do; if you will see your Son,  
Here's one shall bring you to him.  Exit King. 
Some unskilful Pilot had shipwrackt here;  
But I not only against sure  
And likely ills have made myself secure:  
But so confirmed, and fortified my state,  
To set it safe above the reach of Fate.  Exit Haly. Enter Prince led, Servant at the other door, Princess and Soffy. Seru. 
Sir, the Princess and your Son.  Prince. 
Soffy, thou comest to wonder at  
Thy wretched father: why dost thou interrupt  
Thy happiness, by looking on an object  
So miserable?  Princess. 
My Lord, methinks there is not in your voice  
The vigour that was wont, nor in your look  
The wont cheerfulness. Are you well, my Lord?  Prince. 
No: but I shall be, I feel my health a coming.  Princess. 
What's your disease, my Lord?  Prince. 
Nothing, but I have ta'en a Cordial,  
Sent by the King or Haly, in requital  
Of all my miseries, to make me happy:  
The pillars of this frame grow weak,  
As if the weight of many years oppress 'em;  
My sinews slacken, and an Icy stiffness  
Benumbs my blood.  Princess. 
Alas, I fear he's poisoned:  
Call all the help that Art, or Herbs, or Minerals  
Can minister.  Prince. 
No, 'tis too late:  
And they that gave me this, are too well practised  
In such an Art, to attempt and not perform.  Princess. 
Yet try my Lord, revive your  
thoughts, the Empire  
Expects you, your Father's dying.  Prince. 
So when the ship is sinking,  
The winds that wracked it cease.  Princess. 
Will you be the scorn of fortune,  
To come near a Crown, and only near it?  Prince. 
I am not fortunes scorn, but she is mine,  
More blind than I  Princess. 
O tyranny of Fate! to bring  
Death in one hand, and Empire in the other;  
Only to show us happiness, and then  
To snatch us from it.  Prince. 
They snatch me to it;  
My soul is on her journey, do not now  
Divert, or lead her back, to lose herself  
I'th' amaze, and winding labyrinths o'th' world:  
I prithee do not weep, thy love is that  
I part with most unwillingly, or otherwise  
I had not stayed till rude necessity  
Had forced me hence.  Soffy, 
be not a man too soon,  
And when thou art, take heed of too much virtue;  
It was thy Fathers, and his only crime,  
'Twill make the King suspicious; yet ere time,  
By nature's course has ripened thee to man,  
'Twill mellow him to dust; till then forget  
I was thy Father, yet forget it not,  
My great example shall excite thy thoughts  
To noble actions. And you, dear Erythaea,  
Give not your passions vent, nor let blind fury  
Precipitate your thoughts, nor set 'em working,  
Till time shall lend 'em better means and instruments  
Than lost complaints. Where's pretty Fatyma?  
She must forgive my rash ungentle passion.  Princess. 
What do you mean, Sir?  Prince. 
I am ashamed to tell you,  
I prithee call her.  Princess. 
I will, Sir, I pray try  
If sleep will ease your torments, and repair  
Your wasted spirits.  Prince. 
Sleep to those empty lids  
Is grown a stranger, and the day and night,  
As undistinguished by my sleep, as sight.  
O happiness of poverty! that rests  
Securely on a bed of living turf,  
While we with waking cares and restless thoughts,  
Lie tumbling on our down, courting the blessing  
Of a short minute's slumber, which the Ploughman  
Shakes from him, as a ransomed slave his fetters:  
Call in some Music, I have heard soft airs  
Can charm our senses, and expel our cares.  
Is Erythaea gone?  Seru. 
Yes, Sir.  Prince. 
'Tis well:  
I would not have her present at my death.  Enter Music. 

SOmnus the humble God, that dwells  
In cottages and smoky cells,  
Hates gilded roofs and beds of down;  
And though he fears no Princes frown,  
Flies from the circle of a Crown.   

Come, I say, thou powerful God,  
And thy Leaden charming Rod,  
Dipped in the Lethaean Lake,  
O'er his wakeful temples shake,  
Lest he should sleep and never wake.   

Nature (alas) why art thou so  
Obliged to thy greatest Foe?  
Sleep that is thy best repast,  
Yet of death it bears a taste,  
And both are the same thing at last.   Seru. 
So now he sleeps, let's leave him  
To his repose.  Enter King. King. 
The horror of this place presents  
The horror of my crimes, I fain would ask  
What I am loath to hear; but I am well prepared:  
They that are past all hope of good, are past  
All fear of ill: and yet if he be dead,  
Speak softly, or uncertainly.  Phy. 
Sir, he sleeps.  King. 
O that's too plain, I know thou meanest his last,  
His long, his endless sleep.  Phy. 
No, Sir, he lives; but yet  
I fear the sleep you speak of will be his next:  
For nature, like a weak and weary traveller,  
Tired with a tedious and rugged way,  
Not by desire provoked, but even betrayed  
By weariness and want of spirits,  
Gives up herself to this unwilling slumber.  King. 
Thou hast it, Haly, 'tis indeed a sad  
And sober truth, though the first  
And only truth thou ever told'st me:  
And 'tis a fatal sign, when Kings hear truth,  
Especially when flatterers dare speak it.  Prince. 
I thought I heard my Father, does he think the poison  
Too slow, and comes to see the operation?  Prince Awakes. 
Or does he think his engine dull, or honest?  
Less apt to execute, than he to bid him:  
He needs not, 'tis enough, it will succeed  
To his expectation.  King. 
'Tis indeed thy Father,  
Thy wretched Father; but so far from acting  
New cruelties, that if those already past,  
Acknowledged and repent of, can yet  
Receive a pardon, by those mutual bonds  
Nature has sealed between us, which though I  
Have cancelled, thou hast still preserved inviolate;  
I beg thy pardon.  Prince. 
Death in itself appears  
Lovely and sweet, not only to be pardoned,  
But wished for, had it come from any other hand,  
But from a Father; a Father,  
A name so full of life, of love, of pity:  
Death from a Father's hand, from whom I first  
Received a being, 'tis a preposterous gift,  
An act at which inverted Nature starts  
And blushes to behold herself so cruel.  King. 
Take thou that comfort with thee, and be not deaf to truth:  
By all that's holy, by the dying accents  
Of thine, and my last breath, I never meant,  
I never wished it: sorrow has so overfraught  
This sinking bark, I shall not live to show  
How I abhor, or how I would repent  
My first rash crime; but he that now  
Has poisoned thee, first poisoned me with jealousy,  
A foolish causeless jealousy.  Prince. 
Since you believe my innocence,  
I cannot but believe your sorrow:  
But does the villain live? A just revenge  
Would more become the sorrows of a King,  
Than womanish complaints.  King. 
O Mirza, Mirza!  
I have no more the power to do it,  
Than thou to see it done: My Empire Mirza,  
My Empire's lost: thy virtue was the rock  
On which it firmly stood, that being undermined,  
It sunk with its own weight; the villain whom my breath created,  
Now braves it in my Throne.  Prince. 
O for an hour of life; but 'twill not be:  
Revenge and justice we must leave to Heaven.  
I would say more, but death has taken in the outworks,  
And now assails the fort; I feel, I feel him  
Gnawing my heartstrings: Farewell, and yet I would.—  Dies. King. 
O stay, stay but a while, and take me with thee;  
Come Death, let me embrace thee, thou that wert  
The worst of all my fears, art now the best  
Of all my hopes. But Fate, why hast thou added  
This curse to all the rest? the love of life;  
We love it, and yet hate it; death we loathe,  
And still desire; fly to it, and yet fear it.  Enter Princess and Soffy. Princess. 
He's gone, he's gone for ever:  
O that the poison had mistaken his,  
And met this hated life; but cruel Fate  
Envied so great a happiness: Fate that still  
Flies from the wretched, and pursues the blessed.  
Ye Heaven's! But why should I complain to them  
That hear me not, or bow to those that hate me?  
Why should your curses so outweigh your blessings?  
They come but single, and long expectation  
Takes from their value: but these fall upon us  
Double and sudden.  Sees the King. 
Yet more of horror, then farewel my tears,  
And my just anger be no more confined  
To vain complaints, or self-devouring silence;  
But break, break forth upon him like a deluge,  
And the great spirit of my injured Lord  
Possess me, and inspire me with a rage  
Great as thy wrongs, and let me call together  
All my Souls powers, to throw a curse upon him  
Black as his crimes.  King. 
O spare your anger, 'tis lost;  
For he whom thou accusest has already  
Condemned himself, and is as miserable  
As thou canst think, or wish him; spit upon me,  
Cast all reproaches on me, woman's wit  
Or malice can invent, I'll thank thee for them;  
What e'er can give me a more lively sense  
Of my own crimes, that so I may repent 'em.  Princess. 
O cruel Tyrant! couldst thou be so barbarous  
To a Son as noble as thyself art vile?  
That knew no other crime, but too much virtue;  
Nor could deserve so great a punishment  
For any fault, but that he was thy Son?  
Now not content to exceed all other Tyrants,  
Exceed'st thyself: first robbing him of sight,  
Then seeming by a feigned and forced repentance,  
To expiate that crime, didst win him to  
A false security, and now by poison  
Hast robbed him of his life.  King. 
Were but my soul as pure  
From other guilts as that, Heaven did not hold  
One more immaculate. Yet what I have done,  
He dying did forgive me, and hadst thou been present,  
Thou wouldst have done the same: for thou art happy,  
Compared to me; I am not only miserable,  
But wicked too; thy miseries may find  
Pity, and help from others; but mine make me  
The scorn, and the reproach of all the world;  
Thou, like unhappy Merchants, whose adventures  
Are dashed on rocks, or swallowed up in storms,  
Owest all thy losses to the Fates: but I  
Like wasteful Prodigals, have cast away  
My happiness, and with it all men's pity:  
Thou seest how weak and wretched guilt can make,  
Even Kings themselves, when a weak woman's anger  
Can master mine.  Princess. 
And your sorrow  
As much o'ercomes my anger, and turns into melting pity.  King. 
Pity not me, nor yet deplore your husband;  
But seek the safety of your son, his innocence  
Will be too weak a guard, when nor my greatness,  
Nor yet his father's virtues could protect us.  
Go on my Boy, the just revenge of all  To Soffy. 
Our wrongs I recommend to thee and Heaven;  
I feel my weakness growing strong upon me:  Exeunt. 
Death, thou art he that wilt not flatter Princes,  
That stoops not to authority, nor gives  
A specious name to tyranny; but shows  
Our actions in their own deformed likeness.  
Now all those cruelties which I have acted,  
To make me great, or glorious, or secure,  
Look like the hated crimes of other men.  Enter Physician. King. 
O save, save me! who are those that stand,  
And seem to threaten me?  Phy. 
There's no body, 'tis nothing  
But some fearful dream.  King. 
Yes, that's my brother's ghost, whose birthright stood  
'Twixt me and Empire, like a spreading Cedar  
That grows to hinder some delightful prospect,  
Him I cut down.  
Next my old Father's Ghost, whom I impatient  
To have my hopes delayed, hastened by violence before his fatal day;  
Then my enraged Son, who seems to because,  
And hale me to him. I come, I come, ye Ghosts,  
The greatest of you all; but sure one hell's  
Too little to contain me, and too narrow  
For all my crimes.  Dies. Enter Mirvan and Haly at several doors. Haly. 
Go muster all the City-Bands; pretend it  
To prevent sudden tumulrs,  
But indeed to settle the succession.  Mir. 
My Lord, you are too sudden, you'll take 'em unprepared;  
Alas, you know their consciences are tender.  
Scandal and scruple must be first removed,  
They must be prayed and preached into a tumult:  
But for succession,  
Let us agree on that; there's Calamah  
The eldest Son by the Arabsan Lady,  
A gallant youth.  Ha. 
ay, too gallant, his proud spirit will disdain  
To owe his greatness to another's gift:  
Such gifts as Crowns, transcending all requital,  
Turn injuries.  
No, Mirvan; he must be dull and stupid, lest he know  
Wherefore we made him King.  Mir. 
But he must be good natured, tractable,  
And one that will be governed.  Ha. 
And have so much wit to know whom he's beholding to.  Mir. 
But why, my Lord, should you look further than yourself?  Ha. 
I have had some such thoughts; but I consider  
The Persian State will not endure a King  
So meanly born; no, I'll rather be the same I am,  
In place the second, but the first in power:  
Solyman the Son of the Georgian Lady  
Shall be the man: what noise is that?  Enter Messenger. Mess▪ 
My Lord, the Princes late victorious Army  
Is marching towards the Palace, breathing nothing  
But fury and revenge; to them are joined  
All whom desire of change, or discontent,  
Excites to new attempts, their Leaders  
Abdal and Morat.  Ha. 
Abdal and Morat! Mirvan, we are lost, fallen from the top  
Of all our hopes, and cast away like Sailors,  
Who scaping Seas, and Rocks, and Tempests, perish  
I'th' very Port; so are we lost i'th' sight  
And reach of all our wishes.  Mir. 
How has our intelligence failed us so strangely?  Ha. 
No, no, I knew they were in mutiny;  
But they could ne'er have hurt us,  
Had they not come at this instant period,  
This point of time: had he lived two days longer,  
A pardon to the Captains, and a largess  
Among the Soldiers, had appeased their fury:  
Had he died two days sooner, the succession  
Had as we pleased, been settled, and secured  
By Soffy's death. Gods, that the world should turn  
On minutes, and on moment▪  Mir. 
My Lord, lose not yourself  
In passion, but take counsel from necessity;  
I'll to 'em, and will let them know  
The Prince is dead, and that they come too late  
To give him liberty; for love to him  
Has bred their discontents: I'll tell them boldly,  
That they have lost their hopes.  Ha. 
And tell them too,  
As they have lost their hopes o'th' one, they have lost  
Their fears o'th' other: tell their Leaders we desire  
Their counsel in the next succession;  
Which if it meet disturbance,  
Then we shall crave assistance from their power,  
Which Fate could not have sent in a more happy hour.  Exit Mirvan. Enter Lords, Caliph. Cal. 
My Lord,  
Ye hear the news, the Prince's Army is at the gate.  Ha. 
ay, I hear it, and feel it here;  [Aside. 
But the succession, that's the point  
That first requires your counsel.  Cal. 
Who should succeed, but Soffy?  Ha. 
What! in such times as these, when such an Army  
Lies at our gates, to choose a Child our King?  
You, my Lord Caliph, are better read in story,  
And can discourse the fatal consequences  
When Children reign.  Cal. 
My Lords, if you'll be guided  
By reason and example.—  Enter Abdal and Morat. Ha. 
My Lords, you come most opportunely, we were entering  
Into dispute about the next succession.  Ab. 
Who dares dispute it? we have a powerful argument  
Of forty thousand strong, that shall confute him.  Cal. 
A powerful argument indeed.  Ab. 
ay, such a one as will puzzle all your Logic  
And distinctions to answer it;  
And since we came too late for the performance  
Of our intended service to the Prince,  
The wronged Prince, we cannot more express  
Our loyalty to him, than in the right  
Of his most hopeful Son.  Ha. 
But is he not too young?  Mor. 
Sure you think us so too; but he, and we  
Are old enough to look through your disguise,  
And under that to see his Father's Enemies.  A Guard there. Enter Guard. Mor. 
Seize him, and you that could show reason or example.  Ha. 
Seize me! for what?  Ab. 
Canst thou remember such a name as Mirza,  
And ask for what?  Ha. 
That name I must remember, and with horror;  
But few have died for doing,  
What they had died for if they had not done:  
It was the King's command, and I was only  
Th' unhappy minister.  Ab. 
ay, such a minister as wind to fire,  
That adds an accidental fierceness to  
Its natural fury.  Mor. 
If 'twere the King's command, 'twas first thy malice  
Commanded that command, and then obeyed it.  Ha. 
Nay, if you have resolved it, truth and reason  
Are weak and idle arguments;  
But let me pity the unhappy instruments  
Of Prince's wills, whose anger is our fate,  
And yet their love's more fatal than their hate.  Ab. 
And how well that love hath been requited,  
Mirvan your Confident,  
By torture has confessed.  Mor. 
The story of the King, and of the Bashaws.  Ha. 
Mirvan, poor-spirited wretch, thou hast deceived me;  
Nay then farewel my hopes, and next my fears.  Enter Soffy. So. 
What horrid noise was that of drums and  
Trumpets, that struck my Ear?  
What mean these bonds? could not my Grandsire's jealousy  
Be satisfied upon his Son, but now  
Must seize his dearest Favourite? sure my turn comes next.  Ab. 
'Tis come already, Sir; but to succeed him, not them:  
Long live King Soffy.  Without Drums and Trumpets. So. 
But why are these men prisoners?  Ab. 
Let this inform you.  So. 
But is my Grandsire dead?  Ab. 
As sure as we are alive.  So. 
Then let 'em still be prisoners, away with 'em;  
Invite our Mother from her sad retirement,  
And all that suffer for my Father's love,  
Restraint or punishment.  Enter Princess. So. 
Dear Mother, make  
Our happiness complete, by breaking through  
That cloud of sorrow,  
And let us not be wanting to ourselves,  
Now th' heavens have done their part,  
Lest so severe and obstinate a sadness  
Tempt a new vengeance.  Princess. 
Sir, to comply with you I'll use a violence  
Upon my nature; Joy is such a foreigner,  
So mere a stranger to my thoughts, I know  
Not how to entertain him; but sorrow  
Ill made by custom so habitual,  
'Tis now part of my nature.  So. 
But can no pleasure, no delight divert it?  
Greatness, or power, which women most affect,  
If that can do it, rule me, and rule my Empire.  Princess. 
Sir, seek not to rob me of my tears, Fortune  
Herself is not so cruel; for my counsels  
Then may be unsuccessful, but my prayers  
Shall wait on all your actions.  Enter Solyman, as from the Rack. Guard. So. 
Alas poor Solyman, how is he altered?  Sol. 
Why, because I would not accuse your Father, when your Grandfather  
Saw he could not stretch my conscience, thus he has  
Stretched my carcase.  Mor. 
I think they have stretched his wit too.  Sol. 
This is your Father's love that lies thus in my bones;  
I might have loved all the Pocky Whores in Persia, and  
Have felt it less in my bones.  So. 
Thy faith and honesty shall be rewarded  
According to thine own desire.  Sol. 
Friend, I pray thee tell me where-about my knees are,  
I would fain kneel to thank his Majesty:  
Why Sir, for the present my desire is only to have  
A good Bonesetter, and when your Majesty has done that office  
To the Body Politic, and some skilful  
Man to this body of mine (which if it had been a Body  
Politic, had never come to this) I shall by that  
Time think on something for my suffering:  
But must none of these great ones be Hanged for  
Their villainies?  (Aside. Mor. 
Yes certainly.  Sol. 
Then I need look no further, some of their estates  
Will serve my turn.  So. 
Bring back those villains.  Enter Haly and Caliph. So. 
Now to your tears, dear Madam, and the Ghost  
Of my dead Father, will I consecrate  
The first fruits of my justice: Let such honours  
And funeral rites, as to his birth and virtues  
Are due, be first performed, than all that were  
Actors, or Authors of so black a deed,  
Be sacrificed as Victims to his Ghost:  
First thou, my holy Devil, that couldst varnish  
So foul an act with the fair name of Piety:  
Next thou, th' abuser of thy Prince's ear.  Cal. 
Sir, I beg your mercy.  Ha. 
And I a speedy death, nor shall my resolution  
Disarm itself, nor condescend to parley  
With foolish hope.  So. 
'Twere cruelty to spare 'em, I am sorry  
I must commence my reign in blood, but duty  
And justice to my father's soul exact  
This cruel piety; let's study for a punishment,  
A feeling one,  
And borrow from our sorrow so much time,  
T' invent a torment equal to their crime.  Exeunt. 
FINIS.    

The Epilogue.  
'TIs done, and we alive again, and now  
There is no Tragedy, but in your brow.  
And yet our Author hopes you are pleased, if not;  
This having failed, he has a second Plot:  
'Tis this; the next day send us in your friends,  
Then laugh at them, and make yourselves amends.  
Thus, whether it be good or bad, yet you  
May please yourselves, and you may please us too:  
But look you please the Poet, lest he vow  
A full revenge upon you all, but how?  
'Tis not to kill you all twenty a day,  
He'll do't at once, a more compendious way;  
He means to write again; but so much worse,  
That seeing that, you'll think it a just curse  
For censuring this: I'faith give him your applause,  
As you give Beggars money; for no cause,  
But that he's troublesome, and he has sworn,  
As Beggars do, he'll trouble you no more.