THE SOPHY.  
As it was acted at the Private House in Black Friars by his Majesty's Servants.  
LONDON, Printed by Richard Hearne for Thomas Walkley, and are to be sold at his shop at the Sign of the Flying Horse between York-house and Britain's Burse. 1642.   

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.   

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: '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.   

Actors.  

Scena Persia.  
ABBAS King of Persia.  
MIRZA the Prince his Son.  
ERYTHaeA the Princess his wife.  
HALY the king's Favourite, Enemies to the Prince. MIRVAN, Haly's Confident,  
ABDALL, Two Lords, friends to the Prince. MORAT,  
CALIPH.  
SOLYMAN, a foolish Courtier.  
SOFFY, the Prince his son, now King of Persia.  
FATYMA, his daughter.  
2 Turkish bashaws.  
3 Captains.  
2 Women.  
Physician.  
tormentors.    

THE SOPHY.  

Actus Primus.  
Enter Abdall and Moratt. 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 and 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.   

Scaena 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; and 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.  
But hark, a Post, Solyman conduct him in,  A Horn within. 
'Tis surely from the Prince.  Enter Post, and delivers a Letter. King. 
Give it our Secretaries, I hope the Prince is well.  Post. 
The Letter will inform you.  (A Messenger. Mess. 
Sir, the Lords attend you.  Ex. Princess. Enter Lords. King. 
What news from the Army?  Lords. 
Please you to hear the Letter.  King. 
read it.  Lords. 
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. 
Let twenty thousand men be raised.  
Let fresh supplies of victuals, and of money,  
Be sent with speed.  Lords. 
Sir, your Treasures  
Are quite exhausted, the Exchequer's empty.  King. 
Talk not to me of Treasures, or Exchequers,  
Send for five hundred of the wealthiest Burghers,  
Their shops and ships are my Exchequer.  Abd. 
'Twere better you you could say their hearts.  Abd. aside. 
Sir upon your late demands  
They answered they were 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 Post. Exit 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.  Cap. 
Sir, the Prince lives.  King. 
And hath not lost his honour?  Cap. 
As safe in honour as in life.  King. 
Nor liberty?  Cap. 
Free as the 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 PRINCE'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 and clouds,  
And let thy eyes shine forth in their full lustre;  
Invest them with thy loveliest smiles, put on  
Thy choicest looks: he's coming will deserve them.  Princess. 
What, is the Prince returned with safety? 'tis above  
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 and 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 bashaws. 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 jove's,  
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; th' are 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 borne 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 shrieked myself awake, then slept again  
And dreamed 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 the apparition, this, or that.  Prince. 
An apparition?  
At night I shall resolve that doubt, and make  
Thy dreams more pleasing.  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 hand 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 doth hate 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 and 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 'gainst 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 Liegers for you in his breast, and there  
Negotiate their affairs.  Enter King, Solyman, and Lords to them. King. 
Solyman, be it your care to entertain the Captains  
And the Prisoners, and use them kindly.  Sol. 
Sir, I am not for entertainments now I am melancholy.  King. 
What, grieved for our good fortune?  Sol. 
No Sir, but now the wars are, done, we want 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 Act. Primi.   

Actus Secundus.  

Scaena Prima.  Enter Prince, Haly, Captains and Prisoners, bashaws. Prince. 
captains, methinks you look like fishes out of water,  
I see the Court is not your element:  
You must to the wars again.  1. Cap. 
Faith Sir, These young Gallants are so taken up with  
Their Mistresses; I doubt their edge is taken off from  
The wars.  2. Cap. 
ay, and their backs too.  1. Cap. 
But for us old ones we're weary of being laughed at  
By these Court hobby-horses, for making legs, and  
Kissing hands unhandsomely.  2. Cap. 
And to be censured by the she critics, because our  
Legs are bigger than the Court standard,  
And therefore out of fashion.  1. Cap. 
And such a giggling, because ones band's unpinned;  
Another's beard not well turned up: And such a  
Fiddle-faddle, 'tis not to be endured.  Prince. 
Well, howsoever you are dealt with,  
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 year's 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,  
Then in a cold Pavilion in the camp,  
Where your short sleeps are broke and interrupted  
With noises and alarms?  Prince. 
Haly, thou know'st 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 borne 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 and plenty,  
Then by the expense of wealth, and blood to make  
New acquisitions.  Prince. 
That I was borne 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 then 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 sooth 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;  
we'll go and hunt, it is a Princely sport  
And much resembles war.  Cap. 
Such wars as ours,  
Where we have used to follow chases.  Prince. 
It shows us pretty dangers, and acquaints us  
With situations, while I view the hills,  
The thickets, and the rivers; here methinks,  
With best advantage I could pitch my camp:  
Here range my Army, there the battle join;  
Here make a safe retreat, and there enclose  
The enemy, as beasts within a toil:  
And yet I can observe the chased Stag,  
How he can cast about to seek his safety;  
And when he sees his death is unavoidable,  
How he will weep. I can observe the Dogs too,  
How some in swiftness, some in scent excel;  
Others in cry: But let us lose no time,  
Methinks the Courts a prison.  Ex, Man. 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, than I  
Must meet my danger, and destroy him first;  
But cunningly, and closely, or his son  
And wife, like a fierce tigress 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, 'gainst which tyrant's 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 other's object.  Enter Mirvan. Mir. 
My Lord,  
Now if your plots be right, you are befriended  
With opportunity; The King is melancholy,  
Apted for any ill impressions.  
Make an advantage of the 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 if 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,  
Then what is good or great: yet some old men  
Tell Stories of you in their chimney corners.  King. 
No otherwise.  Ha. 
They're all so full of him: some 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 unnecessary 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 upon 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. and Haly: 
thou know'st my nature, too too apt  
To these suspicions, but I hope the question  
Was never moved to thee.  Ha. 
In other kingdom's 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 least 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 he 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. 
I 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, and 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 subjects' 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 somebody  
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 shall 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 you moved  
The King in their behalf.  Ha. 
But now they're come I'll make 'em do my business  
Better than I did theirs.  Mir. 
Leave us a while.  Exit 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 son's 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 straight 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.  Exit. 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 Act. 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 son's 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 learnedst, 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 life,  
And Empire is most dear, appearing, thus  
Advised me in a vision: Tell the King,  
The Prince his son attempts his life and 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 canceled 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.  
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  
as soon 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 Nature's 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  
Then 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 fumes; 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 cuts off ills, that may be,  
As those that are; and prevent purposes  
Before they come to practise; and foul practises  
Before they grow to Act: you cannot but observe  
How he dislikes the Court, his rude departure,  
His honour from the people and the soldiers,  
His seeking to oblige the Turks his prisoners,  
Their sudden and suspected flight:  
And above all, his restless towering thoughts.  A Horn winded 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 Abdall, read it.  Abdall 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 stomachs, 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 your age, and pillar of your 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 wonted 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 towards him  
As his towards me: he only shall remain  
A prisoner till his death, or mine enlarge him.  Exit 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 sconce.  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? Away  
With him.  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 and tortured, till he confess  
The whole conspiracy.  Sol. 
Racked, and tortured? 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 honesty 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 dares 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 tother 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 other's 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 straight 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;  
Know'st 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 nor gods, nor men; and than 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 and guilt  
Are the same thing; and 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 it is 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.  
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 try 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 Act. Tertii.   

Actus Quartus.  Enter Ab. 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 subjects' souls, and leave Kings unconfined;  
While their poor Vassals sacrifice their bloods  
t'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 ends 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, then 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 passed  
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 Counsellors; 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; then 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.  Exit. 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 straight 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.  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 first.  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 fool, 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 my 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 but knew 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,  
As if the rack would be a shipwreck.  Tor. 
You are witty Sir.  Sol. 
This is nothing but a poor clinch, I have  
A thousand of 'em, (a trick I learned amongst the Statesmen.)  [Drinks again.] 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.  
Well rack, I defy thee, do thy worst,  
I would thou wert 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, than 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 other 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's 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.  Exit King and Ca. Man. Ha. Enter Mirvan. Ha. 
Mirvan, the King relents, and now there's left  
No refuge but the last, he must be 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 then 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 then 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? methinks 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 father's 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 loves 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 then 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 love's proper object,  
Which only is itself.  Prince. 
Thou hast almost  
Taught me to love my miseries, and forgive  
All my misfortunes. I'll at least forget 'em;  
We will receive 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. 
ay 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: but 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 fares  
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. Mes. 
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 Moss. 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. 
I 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 Innocent,  
'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 then my infamy,  
Would blot out his, And I instead 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 Act. 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.  Exit. 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 Natolia.  Ha. 
Natolia? heard you nothing  
Of two Villains that lately fled from hence?  1. Bash. 
The Pasha's 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?  
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 'em.  Ha. 
do't, and name your own rewards.  2. Bash. 
We dare do nothing till we have seen the King,  
And than 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, Sir;  They pull off their disguises. 
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 could 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  
'Gainst 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 has 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 shipwrecked 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, servants at the other door, Princess and Soffy. Serv. 
Sir, the Princess and your son.  Prince. 
Soffy, thou com'st 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 wonted 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.  Prin. 
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 fortune's 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' maze, 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 these 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?  Serv. 
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.   Serv. 
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 mean'st 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 a 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 repented of, can yet  
Receive a pardon, by those mutual bonds  
Nature has sealed between us, which though I  
Have canceled, 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.  Kin. 
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 Heavens! 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, than farewell 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 soul's powers, to throw a curse upon him  
Black as his crimes.  King. 
O spare your anger, 'tis lost;  
For he whom thou accused has already  
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;  
whate'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,  
Ow'st 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 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 nobody, '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 beckon,  
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. Ha. 
Go muster all the Citie-Bands, pretend it  
To prevent sudden tumults,  
But indeed to settle the succession.  Mir. 
My Lord, you are too sudden, you'll take 'em 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 the succession,  
Let us agree on that, there's Calamah  
The eldest son by the Arabian 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 borne; 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. 
Abdall 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 largesse  
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 moments.  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,  
Than 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 Abdall 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 farewell 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. 
I know not, Sir, it an art your Grandfather had to make  
Me grow, I think he took me for some crooked Lady,  
I'm sure the engine is better for the purpose, than  
Steel bodies, or bolsters.  So. 
But for what cause was all this cruelty?  Sol. 
Why, because I would not accuse your father, when he  
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 joints,  
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 whereabout 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 the office  
Of a Bonesetter 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 according to my deserts:  
But must none of these great ones be hanged for  Aside. 
Their villainies?  Mor. 
Yes certainly.  Sol. 
Then I need look no further, some of their places  
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.