The tragedy of Mustapha

ACTVS II. SCENA I.

Camena alone,

They that from youth do sucke at Fortunes brest, And nurse their empty heart with seeking higher, Like dropsie fed their thirst, do neuer rest, For still begetting, they beget desire; And thoughts like wood, while they maintaine the flame Of high desires, grow ashes in the same: But Vertue, those that can behold thy beauties, Those that sucke from their youth the milke of goodnes, Their mindes grow strong against the stormes of fortune, Like rockes in seas; which in the goodly weather, Giue rest to birds, that in their courses wander, And in the stormes stand fast, themselues vnshaken, Though ruines oft vnto desire mistaken. O vertue! whose thrall I thinke fortune, Thou who despisest not the sexe of women Helpe, and out of the riddles of any fortune, Whereon (me thinkes) you with your selfe depose me; Let Fate goe on, sweet vertue doe not loose me, My mother and my husband haue conspired For brothers good the ruine of my brother, My father by my mother is inspired For one child to seeke the ruine of the other. I that to helpe by nature am required, While I do helpe must needes still hurt a brother, While I see who conspires, I seeme conspired Against a husband, father and a mother. Truth bids me runne, by truth I am retired, Shame leades me both the one way and the other: With danger and dishonour I am hired To doe against a husband and a mother: In what a labyrinth is honour cast, Drawne diuers waies with Sexe, with Time and State, In all which, errors course is infinite, By hope by feare, by spite, by loue, by hate;

And but one onely way vnto the right: A thorny way, where payne must be the guide, Danger the light, offence of power, the praise; Such are the golden hopes of Iron daies. Yet, honor, I am thine, forthy sake sorry, Since base hearts, for their base ill-plac'd desires, In shame, in danger, death and torments glory, That I cannot with more paynes write thy story. And Fortune, if thou scorn'st those that scorne thee; Shame if thou doe hate those, that force thy trumpet To sound aloud, and yet despise thy sounding; Lawes, if you loue not those that be examples Of natures lawes, whence you are fallen corrupted; Conspire, that I against you all conspired, Ioyned with tyrant vertue (as you call her.) That I, by your reuenges may be named For vertue to be ruin'd and defamed. My mother oft and diuersly I warned What fortunes were vpon such courses builded, That Fortune still might be with child with mischiefe, Which is both borne and nourisht out of mischiefe: I told her, that euen as the silly Doue Seeld vp with her owne lids, to seeke the light, Still coueteth vnto the heights aboue, Till fallen, she feeles, the lacke was in her sight, So man, benighted with his owne selfe-loue, Still creepeth to the rude imbracing night Of Princes grace, a lease of glories let, Which shining, burnes, breeds Syrens, where it's set. And by this creature of my mothers making, This messenger, I Mustapha haue warned, That Innocence is not enough to saue Where good and greatnesse feare and enuy haue. Till now, in reuerence I haue forborne To aske, or to presume to gesse or know My fathers thoughts, whereof he might thinke scorne: For dreadful is that State; which all may doe. Yet they that alll men feare, are fearefull too.

Loe where he comes, Vertue worke thou in me, That what thou seekest, may accomplisht be.