The siege of memphis



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THE SIEGE OF MEMPHIS,

OR THE Ambitious Queen.



A TRAGEDY,
Acted at the THEATER-ROYAL.
Written by Tho. Durfey, Gent.

Non fit sine Periculo facinus magnum & memorabile, - Terent.


LONDON, Printed for W. Cademan at the Popes Head

at the entrance in of the New Exchange in the Strand, 1676.


rrrrrrrrrrrrr

TO THE TRULY GENEROUS HENRY CHEVERS, Esq


SIR,


The favourable aspect you were pleas'd to cast, upon this Poem (the first fruits of an Infant Muse) together with the knowledge I have of your excellent temper, and unalter'd clemency, have sufficiently warranted my presumption of throwing it at your feet, and by making it an humble present to a Person so far above the common Sphere, secure it from the peircing Tallons of Eagle Eyed Criticks: I know it is a triffle that by the meaness of the stile, the want of good design, and the ill representation at the Theatre, being Play'd to the worst advantage, has got little credit with the World and consequently is far unworthy your patronage, but if you consider the credit of a young Author lyes at stake, one whose design was onely to please not offend, you doubtless will be induc'd to a more favourable opinion of my presumption. The censures of others will the less trouble me when you protect it, knowing how common 'tis now to discant on Authors truely famous and worthy all applause, as well as others of a far meaner knowledge and reputation 'Tis my desire, I confess, to be free from malicious censures, and that my partial Reader would be so favourable as not to be my Interpreter, but content himself with the Perusal, according to Martial (Absit a jocorum nostrorum simplicitate malignus interpres,) But since the humour of this Age tends another way, I must study self satisfaction, and relie on the Patronage of a Person whose worth I am so well acquainted with, that the criticisms of pretenders will appear as ridiculous as they can endeavour to make this Poem, if they durst write themselves.

SIR, Your obliged humble Servant.



Tho. Durfey
PROLOGUE.


Judges of Wit, you, whose diserning Eyes
Know the right path and nearest, to be wise
That never damn'd a Play, as a despite
To us, but always thought your selves i'th' right.
Our Rhymer swears it never shall corode
Upon his mind, since 'tis grown
Al-a-mode,
Since great and pow'rful Sons of Poesie,
Have felt your pointed censures, why not he?
The Age is alter'd now, he that has Wit,
Ne're uses it abroad, but in the Pit,
There spreads it all, and e're one Scene does know,
Calls friend aside, Cryes, Dammy.
Iack lets go,
Not a Wench here that's worth the speaking to.
Others that want Wit, hither come to glean,
Seem to find fault and cavil at a Scene,
Because they understand it not, yet will
Dislike, because 'tis Modish, and Gentile.
Thus both ways we our Enemy's inclose:
The Wise and Fools are equally our foes,
'Tis true some tender hearted Females come,
That want divertisement and trade at home,
But little's to be got by them, alas!
They bring good faces, but their moneys brass,
Madam, we cry, 'tis naught, she peeps through hood;
Cryes, truth, my Lord did give it me for good.
Still this makes ill for us, such as doe pay
Bring naughty money, such as do not, stay
Your Criticism's greater then your sins are,
And yet, you'd laugh to hear, Old Cole of Windsor,
A bawdy Ballad, though with non sence cram'd,
Will please ye when a serious Play is damn'd
But do your worst for we resolve to try,
A proof now of the Ladies Clemency,
If they but favour us, you must obey,
Their frowns hurt you more then you'l hurt our Play,
But should they hiss and our designs condemn.
It were an honour to be damne’d by them.
You are such Devils and so far exceed,
From you 'twere worse then to be damn'd indeed,
But in their heav'nly breasts no rancour lyes,
Their censures must be glorious as their eyes,
And he that hears, and follows not their rule,
Is impotent, I'me sure, if not a Fool.

Persons Represented.


Egyptians.

Melechadel, King of Egypt.

Ptolomy, his Son

Phillopater, Caliph and General

Achmades, Two

Halem, Peers

Zichmi, Brother to Halem, and a Commander under Phillopater

Zelmura, Queen of Egypt

Amasis, Sister to Zelmura

Saphrena, Amasis Confident

Messenges, Souldiers, Guards, and Attendants, Men and Women.


Selabdin, Sultan of Syria.

Moaron, his Son.

Psamnis, Friend to Moaron.

Aldabar, Captain in Selabdins Army.

Souldiers, Guards, and Attendants.


The Scene, Memphis besieged.

ACT. I. SCENE I.


The Curtain being drawn, an Alarm of Drums and Trumpets are heard, the Scene representing a Turret, besieged by Moaron, Psamnis, and Syrians; Zelmura, Phillopater, Ziehmi, and Egyptians, appearing on the Walls defending, a skirmish of Darts, which done the Scene changes to Melechadels Pallace.

Enter Melechadel, Ptolomy, and Achmades.

Melechadel. Perish the World e're I forsake my Throne,


Or leave that City, which my Birth did own;
The Sun shall freeze, and Nights pale Goddess burn,
The Solid Globe to its first Chaos turn,
E're Melechadel fears: Draw up our Moors,
By Heaven I'l dare the utmost of their pow'rs,
Kings are like Gods, when dauntless they appear,
But worse than Peasants, if their Fate they fear.

Achmades. Great Apis Priests foretel our overthrow,


And Death comes wing'd like light'ning from the Foe.
I speak, Great Sir, not as I fear to die,
For death's a bliss in wars extreamity.
My loyal care mean doubts do far exceed,
Ill fare true Subjects heads, when Princes bleed.

Ptolomy. Famine ith' City now 'gins to prevail,


And from without Destruction storms like hail;
The tired Souldier, with weak glowing eyes,
Looks down upon the Foe, then falls, and dies;
As if like Basilisks they gave us death,
Not with their dreadful weapons, but their breath.
What can we hope for, where such horrour is!

Melechadel. Think on my Conquests past, then hope for this,


The Gods that made me Monarch, did create
My Kingly Soul to have a Kingly fate.
Have I not conquer'd the insulting Moors,
Baffled the Indian and Tartarian Pow'rs,
When with my Troops I Legions have withstood
Of Daring Souldiers: whose warm Seas of Blood
O'reflow'd the Plains with Waves of crimson dye,
And fogs obscur'd the surface of the sky!
Have I not often with the Morning dawn,
Mounted my Chariot by fam'd Princes drawn
Through Memphis, whilst amazements charm'd the throng
To see my glorious Triumph pass along!
And shall we now our fortune fear to try,
He deserves Conquest best, who best dares die.
Bring up our Infantry to the assault,
And see 'em straight conveyed through the dark vault
Under our Palace: Fly Achmades, flie,
Fate points us out this way to Victory,
Embrace occasion e're it be too late,
We'l snatch our Conquest from the Gripes of Fate.
How now, What news.

Exit Achmades.

Enter Zichmi.

Zichmi, The Fence grows thin, my Liege,


And the remainder hardly brook the siege,
Such numbers with their dreadful darts are kill'd,
The Trenches with their liveless Trunks are fill'd,
And those that yet remain, serve but to shew
Omens of conquest to the daring Foe.

Melechadel. These fatal objects us more Courage teach,


Ptolomy, bring your Squadron to the breach,
Supply the Walls with Engines fit for spoile,
And on their heads pour Seas of flaming Oyl:
But I forget my Souls far better half,
How fares the Queen, is my Zelmura safe;
Are the Gods kind, and still her death defer?

Zichmi. She lives; and all our hopes depend on her:


Upon the Eastern Turret of the Town
From whose high Battlements I saw drop down
Numbers of men, the Queen did dauntless stand,
Terrour coucht in her eye, death in her hand:
The Heartless Crowd, woundring, look up to spy
This new Bellona usher'd from the Sky,
And on their unarm'd fates took the harms,
Which from the valiant Queen fell down in Storms,
By her Example your faint pow'rs turn'd head,
And feeling now that courage which she bred,
Sent such a fierce greeting to the Enemy,
As forc't 'em to treat, almost to fly:
But to their Rescue then, the Syrian Prince,
Their Nations Glory and unmacht defence,
The brave Moaron, best of Generals,
Came like Achilles to the Turret Walls;
Him, when the Queen had found, and envying now
The budding wreaths on his Triumphant brow,
With noble force dismist a dreadful dart
Well aim'd and level'd at the Princes heart,
But his propitious fate the shaft Reverst,
Whose point his fomy Courser's vitals pierc't,
The beast expiring with a grone shrunk down,
And with the Prince fell side long to the ground,
Who straight arising· fir'd with raging Spleen,
Though to revenge, but when he saw the Queen
Like Pallas stand, and knew that it was She
His rage soon quell'd, he bowed his head and knee
As if he thankt her for the Courtesie.

Melechadel. His Soul was always noble, but proceed.

Zichmi. After this Act, with more then usual speed,
The fight began a fresh, and lifes dread foe
Plac't a defiance flag on e'ry brow;
The General was hurt in this last charge,
But was by the fierce Queen reveng'd at large
By joyntless men which on the reeking ground,
In heaps paid their last tribute to his wound,
What happened afterwards my absence lost.

Melechadel. Let other Monarchs of their Subjects boast,


I have a Theam will fill the mouth of fame
His Trump resounding with a womans name:
A Woman whose brave Spirit do's presage
A happy fortune to Our latter Age,
The Noble Carian Queen whose fame flyes far
For aiding Xerxes in the Persian war,
She, whose renown through our East confine Spreds
For Godlike vertues, and heroick deeds,
Would quit her fading claim did She live now,
And place her Lawrel on Zelmura's brow.

Enter a Messenger.

Thy cheerful looks some good event portend,


Say, the foes fled and stile thy self our friend.

Messenger. The Queen is sallied at the Postern gate


Meaning to prosecute victorious fate
She on the foe a fresh assault has try'd,
And charg'd their vauntguard on the weakest side,
Who shrink a pace and now their most defence
Lyes in the Squadron of the valiant Prince;
Like Glitt'ring Mars, he their main Battle heads,
His Faulchion reeking with the blood he sheds,
His noble Soul raging to see them fly,
But all in vain they'l rather run than dye;
So that by our brave Queen and General
The heartless Foe is beaten from the Wall,

Melechadel. The Gods are kind and Just and now I see


The love they bear undaunted Majesty,
There can no ill within their Mansions dwell,
But onely this to make our passions swell
Give us brave Souls then teach'em to rebel

Shout within

Zichmi. What means this shout that Ecchoes through the Sky



Exit Zichmi.

Enter another Messenger.

Messenger. The day is ours, great Sir, the Syrians fly,


The Queen, our Goddess, that our hopes begun
Have broke their closest ranks and made'em run,
The Syrian Prince like Trojan Hector stood
His Curace spotted with warm drops of blood,
He in our troops once made a doubtful fray
And maugre our resistance forc't his way
Toward Nilus head
But now of thirty thousand only he
And one brave friend oppose our victory.

Melechadel. A glorious Conquest and as fortunate


As the brave Macedonian Monarchs fate,
Whose matchless fame by th' Ignorants ador'd
Made the whole World pay homage to his Sword.
By fortune he, but I by pow'r atcheive
A fate that shall new Laws to nature give,
And make my fame in future Ages live

Exeunt

SCENE II.


Alarm, Syrians run over the Stage, after them Moaron with his Sword drawn.

Moaron. Fly slaves to Hell, and may that Devill fear,


That triumphs ore your Souls, torment ye there,
Ye frozen Earthworms, ye infected brood
Of some Claudestine Cowards that for food
Would curse their Parents, and like Sons of Earth
Betray the Nation that first gave'em Birth,
My infirm vertue would in vain appear
'Twould not be now thought patience but dull fear,
Since fortune to my Arms success deny'd.

Enter Psamnis

Psamnis. We are inclos'd great Prince on e'ry side


The envious tyrant fate hath lodg'd us so
Within the bosome of the insulting foe,
That to escape
If we had thousands, as we are but two,
We well might say, we had too much to do.
With some few Horse I long their pow'r withstood,
And fought with courage witness my dear blood,
But when their fresh supplyes surrounded me,
Grone hoarse with shouts, and ecchoing Victory,
Feeling my strength decay, I then withdrew,
Ambitious of the Fate to die with you.

Moaron. Thou hast this day a matchless Valour shown,


And for thy noble deeds deserv'd renown
From Gods as well as men, but I am now
By Fortunes bateless malice fall'n so low,
That I want means my Gratitude to shew,
And though this day thou didst me oft relieve,
This is the sole reward I have to give.

embraces him.

Psamnis. Malitious Pow'rs unfit to be ador'd.

Moaron. Nay to disgrace me by a Womans sword,
A Womans act,---oh---'dsdeath, that plagues me more,
Than all the griefs I ever felt before,
But e're I yield Heav'ns spangled roof shall fall,
And in Cimerean shades abscond us all.

Psamnis. In slighting Death your Princely mind appears,


Death nothing is, mens torments are their fears:
Death sits in Mists upon our fadeing eyes,
Follows our flight, but if we turn he flies.

shout.

That shout was near us, they with speed pursue.

Moaron. Let'em redouble speed and courage too,
Here like Alcides on the Phrygian sand,
Rage in his eyes and thunder in his hand,
I will attend what Fate so ill design'd,
And death with Fame and matchless Honour find.
My Courage shall surpass dull Natures bounds,
I'l fright the insulting Cowards with my wounds,
And when at last my life's Prey to Fate,
Upon their mangled heaps I'l die in State.

Flourish with Trumpets, then enter Zelmura, Phillopater, Zichmi, Achmades, Halem, and Soldiers.

Zelmura. Yield, Prince; and that we favour may a ford


Pay homage due, and tender up your sword,

Moaron. Yield!---

Phillopater. ---do's the word sound ill?

Moaron. ---what must I yield?

Achmades. Yourself: a Captive conquer'd in the field.

Moaron. You have no conquest won till I am dead,


Unless you dare to lie, and say I fled,
'Tis but ill Fate, when heartless Vassals run,
And till I'm slain, think you have nothing won.

Phillopater. We have won all, Fate now rewards our toyls,


Our wearied Mules are laden with your spoils;
Whilst the pale Souldier, flying from afar,
Looks back to see the dismal Scene of War:
Your too proud Courage does your judgement wrong,
Grief and distraction sits upon your tongue.

Zelmura. Fortune, to you, no succour dares aford,


What can your hopes depend on then

Moaron. ---My Sword.

Achmades. Your Sword---

Moaron. ---Yes, this brave badge of Chivalry,


Fate and the Gods are trivial things to me.

Zelmura. Since then the Deities you so despise,


Bow down and yield to me the Victors prize.

Moaron. Wert thou a God, as sure thou art not so,


I should rejoice I had so great a foe;
For they and I have strifes in all affairs,
They keep their blessings back, and I my prayers,
But since thou art no Deity relate,
What great extraction does thy pride creat.

Zelmura. I am Zelmura, Queen of these, and thee,


Bright wreaths of Conquest grace my dignity:
The Gods Vicegerent to dispose their Will,
I have their power to save alive or kill:
My smile's a charm, fierce death attends my frown,
Fortune enslav'd stands fetter'd to my Crown:
The Frozen Islands of the North have seen,
And felt the power of Egypts potent Queen,
Whose furr'd Inhabitants with fear and shame,
Heard the resounding Ecchoes of my fame:
By me the Trees and Plants do spring and grow,
My breath can check our Nilus, ebb or flow,
Put present period to thy destiny;
Do all things like a God, this, Sir, am I.

Moaron. These daring boasts betray what weakness blinds


The sense, and swayes insulting womens minds.

Zelmura. He bears a noble Soul--- [Aside.

---this insolence
Suits not your Fate, nor can I brook it Prince.

Moaron. Fate, Queen: Why, what has Fate to do with me?


I am controuler of my Destiny,
Let such as fear to die call chance unkind,
My Fate is as immortal as my mind.

Zelmura. In vain Disputes, too long the time we waste,


Yield or this present moment is your last,
Think my advice, Sir, was a favour meant,
Submission yet, may hinder the Event,

Psamnis. Submission's onely for base Cowards fit,


Dull sordid Souls, fram'd onely to submit,
Rather than so honour my counsel draws,
That by the sword, we still protect our cause,
Who knows, but Heaven our forces may unite,
And give us back the Conquest through mear spite.

Zelmura. I'l hear no more, this prolong'd breath grow bold,


And I have been too tame---

offers to fight

Phillopater. Hold, Madam, hold---



interposes.

It is my task, should you oppose, in this


All Nations would condemn our cowardise,
And say, that I did in presence the stand,
When Syria's Prince fell by a Womans hand,

Zelmura. A Womans hand, is that, Sir, such a shame,


That I must be upbraided with the name,
Let my brave Actions, that mean stile controul,
For though a Woman I've a manly Soul,
Nor will I Honour for a word resign,
I say it is my right

Phillopater. ---'tis mine.

Halem. ---or mine

Zelmura. 'Tis neithers: Your base arrogance recal,


Claim it again, by Heaven, I dare ye all,
Frown not, nor mutter, I bear too much sway,
Know 'tis a Subjects duty to obey---
Resign on your allegiance or expect
A certain death to follow such neglect.

Phillopater. By duty forc't I to your will agree,



bowing

But what my honour stains I must not see.



Exit.

Halem. Live then a wretch that durst his fame resign,


I am resolv'd by this to cherish mine

offers to fight.

Zelmura. So valourous, young Sir, mild mercy hence,


Take there reward for disobedience

Stabs him.

So, now I'me sure thou'lt not usurpe my right


Come Sir defend your self [to Moaron.

Moaron. ---I will not fight.

Zichmi. My Brother slain the Gods have shewn their spite,

---but I'le revenge . [aside.

Zelmura. Can words such fear impart,
Heavens! can a Prince retain a Peasants heart.
Whence Springs thy fear, what envious destiny
Dares thus controul thy Courage.

Moaron. ---thoughts of thee,


Wer't thou a man, hadst thou Achilles charm
Of being Sword proof, Strong, and free from harm,
Yet should my pointed vengeance conquest win,
Maugre the pow'r of thy inchanted Skin;
But as thou art a woman, I am Crost,
And all the hopes of my revenge is lost:
For to that Sex my honour makes me bend,
Not fight against but with my blood defend.

Zelmura. Something so noble in his soul I find,


Has quite supprest the tempest in my mind,
But my kind thoughts within my breast I'le croud, [aside

Lest my too good opinion makes him proud,


Bear hence the body of the Justly slain, (to Guards.

And such reward may all such traitors gain.



Exeunt guards with Halem.

Zichmi. Traitor so tyrants call their best of friends


Down thoughts and looks cloud what my Soul intends.

Exit.

Enter at another door Melechadel, Amasis, Ptolomy and guards.

Melechadel. Mirrour of women Star of bright renown,


Protectress of my life and Egypts Crown;
What shall I render loudly to proclaim
New terms of Honour equal to thy same.
Thou life of all my power, 'tis to thee
I owe my thanks for this dayes victory:
The Gods were drowsie and their Actions slow,
Twas thy brave Sword made Fate her duty know;
For which least I ingratitude should want,
Ask any thing, and take my speedy Grant:
In two requests thy busied thoughts extend
And to perform my total power I bend.

Zelmura. Your noble vote, Great Sir, I must extol,


It shews a glorious President to all,
Directs rightly how to act and when,
And difference shews 'twixt Kings and moral Men.
A little respite for my sute I crave.

Melechadel. Thou can'st not ask the thing, thou can'st not have.


In his defeat--- [pointing to Moaron.

The fame o'th' Deities thou hast made small,


And shewn a God-like power above 'em all.

Zelmura. My deeds deserve not half this vast applause,


You owe your Royal thanks to your brave cause.

Melechadel. The Cause being tri'd, and conquest our reward,


What means your Slave to stand thus on his guard?

Moaron. Her Slave! by Heaven 'tis false! thou art her Slave,


Her soaring fortune did thy Empire save.
By all the Gods, proud King I am as free
As Heav'n made Man at first, or Fortune thee.
Slavery some abject punishment should own,
But thanks to this I am oblig'd to none.
My sword has more of freedome than thy Throne.
Melechadel. Thy Sword is useless now, Fool, thou shalt die,
Nor can the Gods dispose thy chance, but I.
I sit supream and smile upon thy fate,
Whilst thy scorn'd Life proves Vassal to my State:
Thou shalt imprison'd till my triumph be
And then releas'd from enthrawl'd misery,
Thy death shall be my Scene of jollity.

Moaron. You take large licence to pronounce my death,


But think not what attends that fatal breath,
Fearless you may insuit o're weaker foes,
But know my life is not at your dispose,
And 'tis most safe though not for your renown,
Instead of seeking mine to guard your own,

Melechadel. This insolence my honour cannot bear,


Guards go and bind 'em both---

Moaron. ---Stir if you dare.


This ground is fatal, he that first comes on
Sets but the race, which thou at last shalt run,
Cover'd with wounds, I will thy pow'r oppose
I'th' midst and thickest number of my Foes,
Though fatal, yet some pleasure it will be
To see thy mighty God head stoop to me.
Let the blind Queen of Chance her Envy shew,
And save thy life by some succeseless blow;
Deny'd all help, and pass'd defence, withstood,
I'l rip my breast, and drown thee with my blood.

Melechadel. 'Dsdeath, go, take, kill him. [to the Guards.


Zelmura. Hold, he shall not die,---



stopping the guards

I onely must dispose his destiny;


But that obedience to your will be shewn, [to the King

Of my too great requests, this shall be one.


Souldiers retreat, I have the Kings whole power,
And leave me to appoint his fatal hour.

Melechadel. Ask Something else, this Suit I cannot grant.

Zelmura. Your bound by Oath, take heed how you recant.

Melechadel. My Oath, what's that? go, go, once more take sieze.

Zelmura. He meets his death, who his command obeys:

turning to Moarons side.

Perjur'd, and poor, send now your forces on,


By heaven, we'l cut the props from your weak Throne,
In his defence to my last drop of blood,
I'le meet thy pow'r, though through a crimson flood
I wade to the atcheivement, to make known,
A faithless King's a traitor to his crown.
Unless immediately you pronounce peace,
And cause your factious multitude, to cease.

Melechadel. Retire a while--- [to Guards and Souldiers.

---Madam you have your will
But what curst Feind seduc't you to this ill
Surpasses knowledge, but the Prince shall live:
Him you dare thus protect, I dare forgive.

Moaron. Forgive, your words are still so arrogant,


Fit answers for such Epithites I want
Forgive your slaves some impious offence,
Such as can crowch with humble penitence;
And know whilst valour in my breast does live,
She cannot me protect, nor you forgive.

Melechadel. Yet though your courage with your pow'r concur,


You now are glad to take your life from her.

Moaron. 'Tis false, my life is at my own dispose,


Sprung from the stalk on which my courage grows,
Nor would I for a slow destruction stay,
But boldly run and meet death half the way,
Honours broad path my soul so well has known,
That now to live or dye to me's all one.

Melechadel. The rugged path of death, few men would choose


Had they the licens't power to refuse.
Which death your ransome, Sir, shall now excuse,
Live fearless in our Court and free from ill,
I'me now your friend, though much against my will. [aside.

Zelmura. This grant has back my good opinion gain'd,


He forfeits worth whom perjury does stain.
Honour the Souls of Monarchs best does grace,
Contempt and rigour onely suite the base.
To morrow you shall know my last request,
'Till when it must be treasur'd in my breast.
You'l keep your vow.

Melechadel. My oath has made it good,


And if I fail infection seize my blood.

Zelmura. Disperse, brave Prince, the cloud upon your brow,


To fate, not onely you, but all must bow;
Heaven does mishaps for greatest souls create,
The bravest men are most unfortunate.

Moaron. Heaven then's a cheat so are the Gods and fate,


If there no difference be in punishment,
A Traitor is as happy as a Saint,
And may as soon a glorious blessing share,
As he that spends his life in sighs and prayer.

Melechadel. Your rashness voted 'gainst heavens excellence,


Betray more haughty passion, Sir, than sense,
Motives of sorrows raign or love impure,
But in our Court, your grief may find a cure,

Amasis. Spiritual affairs be the Zealots care,


persued by such as dote on their dispair:
Your worth may, Sir, a fitter work improve,
Imploy'd in Acts of honour, wit, or Love.

Moaron. That love must then be yours what charms are here



touching her hand.

My beating heart much alter'd do's appear,


And I the marks of unknown passion bear;
But I must hide it, Since proud fate to day
In my defeat its malice did display.
My life I'le cherish with design to prove
My soul the ills of Fortune is above.
The Plagues the Gods inflict with scorn I'le bear,
And I will live cause fate shall see I dare.

Exeunt.

ACT. II. SCENE I.


An Alcove: Discovers Moaron and Amasis.

Enter Psamnis.

Psamnis. My happy wishes good success have met,


Yonder the Amourous Lovers smiling sit,
How greedily their darting eye balls rove,
Each look displayes the extasie of Love,
I knew She lov'd him, though a modest Pride,
Which still with untaught Virgins do's reside,
Made her conceal it, but of this no more
I must to Syria to renew our power,
The Prince did so command and I will be
Though not renown'd, lov'd for fidelity.

Exit

SONG within.



Begon dull fear, and servile duty fly,
Where mischeifs hourly rove,
Whilst here we own no other Deity,
Nor Monarch know but Souls ensnaring Love.
Love, whose refreshing joys such rapture brings,
Such life such charming power,
'Twould warm the sinews of enervate Kings,
And make 'em young once more.

II.

Let sordid Mortals toil for Earths increase,
And Glory in their gains.
We with new charms will one another please
And laugh to see the harvest of their pains.
In quiet let'em share their happiness
With hope and fortune great,
Whilst we each day, each hour that Heaven possess,
Which they expect at last.
III.

Then feed my flame bright Deity of Love
With Lulling extasies,
That whilst I in this Orb of Beauty rove
I in conceipt may Soar above the Skyes.
Reasons a term by drowzy Zealots fain'd
Which rapting bliss destroys,
Nature do's always fiercest pleasures lend
When freely sense enjoys.

Moaron. Not all the Odours of those happy fields,


Where Cassia grows, and the fain'd Phaenix builds
Arabias treasures, or the choice perfume
Of India's fragrant entrals dare presume
'Ere to compare with thee thou softest fair,
Thy presence would extenuate despair
In all the Damn'd below, and make 'em live
In hope Hells worst of Torments to survive.

Amasis. If I not knowing my own power, possess


So large a portion of controwling bliss.
The greatest mandate you shall ere fulfil
Shall an entreaty be to love me still.
But should my passion prove an injury,
I should not blame your will but I should dye,
And e're my death I'de one kind thought implore,
Then rest assur'd I could deserve no more.

Moaron. Never, Oh, never, shalt thou see that day


No sooner shall the Early Sun display
His beams about the World, but I will fly
To visit thee the Idol of my eye:
Where by thy side I'le sit for ever free,
And waste my life in endless extasie.
Thy looks my bodies hunger shall repreive,
For if Camelions blest by Nature live
Onely by Air, Air then shall be my food,
A diet fit for our o'reflowing blood,
Refresht with smiles my heart shall baffle death,
And surfet on warm gusts of Rosie breath.

Amasis. Oh no, for though great Love our hearts controuls·


'Tis a repast fit only for our Souls;
A natural food our bodies it must supply,
And we refuting that shall surely dye,
And then the Gods too mindful of our fates
Against our souls approach will shut heavens gates.

Moaron. The Gods perhaps their wrath will shew on me,


But when they shall thy brighter spirit see,
They'r ill weigh'd rage they will conceive a sin,
And from their Thrones hast to conduct thee in,
Then leading thee through the Coelestial Signs,
Whilst at thy sight each envious Goddess pines,
They'l seat thee there in State, whilst I shall be
Seeing thee cherisht by each Deity
In Heaven, opprest with Earthly Jealousie.

Amasis. In vain your fears do such disasters bode,


Were I a Goddesse you should be a God;
I would create new Laws in heaven for thee,
And never blush at the Impiety:
So great my love, so strong my constancy.

Moaron. Blest in each others arms we would despise


The troops of the Inferiour Deities:
But let us now with soaring thoughts dispence,
And prove on earth loves precious influence.
Bear witness heaven, that now our Actions veiw,
How Little life I prize, compard with you.
You whose perfections can such blessings give,
That for your sake I onely with to live.

Amasis. And I your vertues, though I blush to tell,


Confess my Soul I love not halfe so well.

Moaron. When to our blisse a pleasant Race we run,


How swift the minuits are how quickly gone,
The time seems envious of our happinesse,
And strives to put a period to our bliss
By an unlookt for hast, but let 'em fly,
Each project of curst Fortune I defie.
And glorying in your heavenly presence prove
Noblessing e're can match the charms of Love.

Exeunt.

SCENE II.


Zelmura Sola.

Zelmura. It shall be done, it must, nor can there be


A pow'r but heaven to alter my decree,
And that I may have int'rest in heavens Love,
For a short time I will religious prove;
Kneel to the Gods, adore their pow'r and state,
Be just and pious, meerly to be great
I'm Egypts Queen my pow'r like a huge stream
O'reflows small shrubs, yet I am not supream.
My will is limited, my orders stand,
But as the Copies of the King command,
Who in security now tramples on
Those wreaths, which I in war with danger won.
Coheirs in Empire shines but dimly bright,
Whilst eithers lustre darkens t'others light,
But, I like Titan, fixt alone would shine,
And dare all other Beams to equal mine:
Nature begone, thou faint soft hearted thing,
What though he be my husband and my King,
Ambition is my Soul, and die he must,
And 'tis sufficient, that I think it just:
Had Providence ordain'd I should have been
A theam of Pity, a kind vertuous Queen,
I had submitted to that harmless name,
And followed Piety. But as I am
The Child of War, all Courage, and all Fire,
My deeds above the sense of good aspire,
Die then dull King, for since no way is known,
But by thy death for me to mount thy throne,
I am Resolv'd all thoughts of good to quell,
And raign first here, though I raign next in hell.
The cause of your unmanner'd hast declare.

Enter Ptolomy hastily.

Ptolomy. My news exacts your courage and your care,


The King has had some close intelligence,
How Psamnis sent to Syria by the Prince,
To raise new Powers, and get his Ransome paid,
Intends again our Nation to invade,
Knowledge of which hath so provok't his wrath,
He swore a no less Rash then mighty Oath,
Before the mornings dawn t' exault a flood,
And drown all Danger in the Princes blood.

Zelmura. That breath has damn'd him, hell has not endued


The Fiends with half so much ingratitude;
He shall not, no his doom I will recall
By all the Gods if they permit his fall,
I will destroy the World, kill and disrobe
Nature of her perfections, shake the Globe
To its first Chaos, and by actions prove,
Nothing can match a Womans hate or love.

Enter Amasis

Amasis. Ah! Sister can you thus your steps retard,


The noble Prince drag'd rudely by the guard
Stands in the Presence bound,

Zelmura. ---Bound, hell and death


Here me you pow'rs above, and shades beneath,
You that on Thrones of Day abhor the Night,
And you whom horrours of cold death delight:
Hear and assist my haughty enterprize,
For since controwling fate wears a disguise,
Since Nature takes a Pride Mortality
To mould in Plots and Jugling villany,
I am resolv'd my influence to shew,
And fright the World with Natures overthrow;
Like some great conflagration I'le appear,
And first with smoky flateries charm his ear
Till I my hearts desire have obtain'd,
His his whole power by his promise gain'd,
That done from cloudy thickness I'le aspire
And Scorch opposers like consuming fire.

Exeunt.

SCENE. III.


Melechadel, Zichmi, Achmades, Moaron held by Guards.

Melechadel. Am I to be out brav'd, Gods has my fate.


Made me as oft victorious as great,
Seated my Throne upon the conquer'd heads
Of those that seek the paths ambition treads,
And shall I now stand tame when threatned by
A weak low Object of my Clemency,
Wars vassal, no my rage shall tempests grow
And the fierce pow'r of inrag'd Monarchs show.
Lead to the Scaffold, by my Crown I'le try,
If thus inspir'd you can submit to dye.
If in the Book of fate my doom appear
To be the next, I'le meet death void of fear
And smile to think thou art my harbinger.

Moaron. Tyrant! not all thy tortures nor the Hell


Fixt in thy Conscience shall my Courage quell:
My Spirit shall contemne thy basest deed,
And spite of torments dare thee to proceed,
The Bright all-seeing Sun when I shall dye
From Reeking Mists will draw my soul up high,
Where on a Star I shall with Glory shine
And in infernal Caverns see thee Pine.

Melechadel. Dream on, dream on, of visionary joyes,


Your fancy quickens with these pleasing toyes,
Lead him away, alas, he weary growes,
These dull delayes, but hinder his repose
His power would conquer Crowns beyoad the Sun
Did he not want a head to set 'em on,

Zichmi. Pardon, dread Sir, I If presume so far,


To tell your Majesty the chance of war
Is incident to all men, Kings have been
The subjects of disasters not foreseen;
Blur not the trophies then of victory,
With the black stain of so much infamy;
Kings are like Gods when vertue they obey,
But that once lost, they are but common Clay.

Melechadel. Your Moral Phrase I cannot understand:


Vertue, do's it not ly in my command,
What I decree is just, although exprest
A Miracle to an inferiour breast;
Vent your dull sentences, where publick wrongs
Lye brooding to be judg'd by publick tongues;
My will the power of factious souls shall awe
A Monarchs mandate is his Subject Law.

Zichmi. The beguil'd Citizens will factious grow,


When they your doom and breach of Promise know.

Melechadel. Traitor these fears proclaim thy fell intent,


You wish those ills, you so well represent.
You mean, no doubt, to their weak aid to run,
And with your Courage lead the factious on,
But e're that happen.

Zichmi. If my erring breath


Has given you cause, dread Sir to doubt my faith;
My life prostrate thus low I offer here,

kneels.

'Tis only what I for your safety wear.

Melechadel. For your first Crime my Clemency may plead,
But such another word forfeits your head.
Take him away I will here no replyes, [to guards.

He longs to sit on arches of the skyes.

Moaron. Thou never shalt thy barbarous Conquest boast,
For day and night I'le haunt thee with my Ghost,
When reeking blood my spirit steems to air,
Into thy fatal Pallace I'le repair:
Through all thy Guards I'le to thy presence Croud,
And Sit before thee in my bloody shrowd,
I will invent new shapes to vex thee more,
And in thy nightly visions make thee roar,
Till thou do'st feel by angry Pluto's doom
A Hell on earth as well as Hell to come.

Melechadel. 'Dsdeath drag him hence, guards let your faith be seen


Answer not, but obey.



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