Certaine small poems lately printed with the tragedie of Philotas. Written by Samuel Daniel.

Philotas. Chalisthenes.

Philotas reading his Fathers letter.

MAke thy selfe lesse Philotas then thou art? What meanes my father thus to write to me? Lesse then I am: in what? how can that bee? Must I be then set vnderneath my hart? Shall I let go the holde I haue of grace Gaynd with so hard aduentures of my bloud, And suffer others mount into my place, And from below, looke vp to where I stood? Shall I degrade th'opinion of my worth? By putting off imployment; as vndone In spirit or grace: whilst other men set forth To get that start of action I haue wonne? As if such men as I, had any place, To stay betwixt their ruine, and their grace. Can any go beyond me, but they will Goe ouer me, and trample on my state, And make their fortune good vpon my ill, Whilst feare hath powre to wound me worse thē hate?

Ch.

Philotas, you deceiue your selfe in this, Your father meanes not you should yeeld in place, But in your popular dependences: Your entertainments, guifes, and publique grace, That doth in iealous Kings, distaste the Peeres, And makes you not the greater but in feares.

Phi.

Alas what popular dependences Do I retaine? can I shake off the zeale Of such as do out of their kindnesses Follow my fortunes in the common-weale.

Cha.

Indeed Philotas therein you say true: They follow do, your fortunes, and not you.

Phi.

Yea but I find their loue to me sincere.

Cha.

Euen such as to the Wolfe the Fox doth bea••e, That visits him but to pertake his pray, And seeing his hopes deceiu'd turnes to betray.

Phi.

I know they would if I in danger stood, Runne vnto me, with hazard of their bloud.

Cha.

Yea like as men to burning houses run, Not to lend ayde, but to be lookers on.

Phi.

But I with bountie, and with guifts haue tyde Their harts so sure, I know, they will not slide.

Cha.

Bounty & guifts loose more then they do find, Where many looke for good, few haue their mind: Each thinkes he merits more then than he hath, And so guifts laid for loue do catch men wrath.

Phi.

But many meerely out of loue attend.

Cha.

Yea, those that loue and haue no other end: Thinke you that men can loue you when they know, You haue them not for friendship, but for sho••••••.

And as you are ingag'd in your affaires, And haue your ends, thinke, likewise they haue theirs.

Phi.

But I do truly from my hart affect Vertue and worth, where I do finde it set: Besides my foes do force me in effect, To make my partie of opinion grea••, And I must arme me thus against their scornes, Men must be shodd, that go among the thornes.

Cha.

Ah good Philotas you your selfe be guile, Tis not the way to quench the fire with oyle. The meeke and humble Lambe with small adoo, Sucks his owne dam, we see, and others too. In Courtes men longest liue and keepe their rankes, By taking iniuries, and giuing thankes.

Phi.

And is it so? then neuer are these haires, Like to attaine that sober hew of gray, I cannot plaster and disguise m'affaires, In other coulours then my hart doth lay. Nor can I patiently indure this fond And strange proceeding of authoritie, That hath ingrost vp all into their hand, By idoliuing feeble maiestie. And impiously do labour all they can, To make the King forget he is a man. Whilst they deuide the spoyles, and pray of powre, And none at all respect the publique good. Those hands that guard and get vs what is our, The Solderie, ingag'd to vent their bloud, In worse ••ase seeme then Pallas old-growne Moyle, Th' Athenians fostred at their publique cost;

For these poore soules consum'd with tedious toile Remayne neglected, hauing done their most. And nothing shall bring home of all these wars But emptie age and bodies chardgd with skarres.

Ch.

Philotas, all this publique care I feare Is but some priuat touch of your dislike. Who seeing your owne designes not stand to square With your desires, no others courses like. The griefe you take things are not ordred well, Is that you feele your selfe I feare not well. But when your fortunes shall stand parabel With those you enuy now: all will be well. For you great men, I see are neuer more Your ends attain'd the same you were before. You with a finger can point out the staynes Of others errors now, and now condem The traine of state, whilst your desire remaines without. But once got in you iumpe with them, And interleague ye with iniquity, And with a like neglect do temporize And onely serue your owne commodity: Your fortune then viewes things with other eyes. For either greatnesse doth transforme the hart. Int'other shapes of thoughts or certaynly This vulgar honesty doth dwell apart From powre, and is some priuate quallity, Or rather those faire parts which we esteeme In such as you, are not the same they seeme, You double with your selues or els with vs. And therefore now Philotas euen as good.

Timbrace the times, as swell, and do no good.

Ph.

Alas Chalisthenes you haue not layde True leuell to my nature, but are wide From what I ame within; all you haue sayde Shall neuer make me of another side Then that I am, and I do skorne to clyme By shaking hands with this vnworthy time.

Ch.

The time, Philotas then will break thy neck.

Ph.

They dare nor, freind, my faith wil keep my neck, My seruice to the state hath causioned So surely for myne honor, as it shall Make good the place my deedes haue purchased With daunger, in the loue, and harts of all,

Ch.

Those seruices, will serue as waights to charge And presle you vnto death, if your foot faile neuer so little vnderneath your charge And will be dee••'d, donne, for your owne auayle. And who haue spirits to do the greatest good, May do most hurt if they remaine not good.

Ph.

Tush. They cannot want my seruice in the state.

Ch

These times want not men to supply the state.

Ph.

I feare not whilst Parmenios forces stand.

Ch.

Water far off q••enches not fire neere hand. You may be faire dispatcht, e••e he can heare Or if he heard, before he could be here. And therefore do not build vppon such sand It will deceiue your hopes, when all is doone For though you were the minion of the land If you breake out, be sure you are vndonne. When running with the current of the state,

Were you the weakest man of men aliue And in conuentions, and in counsayle sate And did but sleepe or nod, yet should you thriue These mo••iue spirits are neuer fit to rise, And tis a danger to be held so wise.

Ph.

What call you running with the slate; shall I Combine with those that do abuse the slate? Whose want of iudgment, wit and honesty, I am ashamed to see, and seeing hate.

Ch.

Tush, tush, my Lord thinke not of vvhat were fit, The world is gouernd more by forme, then witt. He that will ••ret at Lords, and at the r••ine, Is but a foole, and grieues himselfe in vaine. Cannot you great men suffer others to Haue parte in rule, but must haue all to doo. Now good my Lord con••orme you to the rest, Let not your wings be greater then your nest.

Ph.

solus. See how these vain discoursiue Booke-men talke, Out of those shadows of their ayerie powres, And do not see how much they must defalke Of their accoumpts, to make them gree with ours. They little know to what necessities, Our courses stand allyed, or how we are, Ingag'd in reputation other-wise To be our selues in our particulare. They thinke we can command our harts to lye, Out of their place: and still they preach to vs. Pack-bearing Patience that base property, And silly g••i•••• of th'all induring Ass. But let them talke their fill, it is but wind,

I must sayle by the compasse of my minde,

Enters a Messenger.

My Lord, the King calls for you come my Lord away,

Ph.

Well then I know there's some new stratage•• In hand, to be consulted on to day. That I am sent for with such speede, to him, Whose youth and fortune cannot brooke delay. But here's a Sutor standes t'impeech my hast, I would I had gone vp the priule way: Whereby we escape th'attending multitude, Though I confesse, that in humanity Tis better to deny, then to delude.

Enters Cebalinus.

My Lord Philotas I am come with news, Of great importance that concerns vs all, And well hath my good fortune met with you: Who best can heare, and best discharge my care.

Ph.

Say what it is and pray-thee friend be briefe.

Ceb.

The case requires your patience good my lord, And therefore I must craue your eare a while,

Ph.

I cannot now be long from Alexander.

Ceb.

Nor Alexander will be long with vs, Vnles you heare, and therfore know, the newes I bring, concernes his life; and this it is, There is one Dymnus here within the campe: Whose low estate, and high affections Seeme to haue thrust him int'outragious wayes. This man affecting one Nichomacus A youth, my brother, whom one day h'allures Int'a temple where being both alone,

He breakes out in this sort: Nichomacus Sweete louely youth, ah should I not impart To thee the deepest secrets of my hart, My hart that hath no lock shut against thee, Would let it out some-times vnwares of me. But as it issues from my faithfull loue, So close it vp in thine, and keepe it fast: Sweare to be secret deere Nichomacus. Sweare by the sacred God-head of this place To keepe my councell, and I will reueale A matter of the greatest consequence That euer man imparted to his friend. Youth and desire drawne with a loue to know, Swore to be secret, and to keepe it close When Dymnus tells him, that within three dayes There should b'effected a conspiracie On Alexanders person, by his meanes And diuers more of the Nobillitie. To free their labours and redeeme them home, Which when Nichomacus my brother heard: Is this your tale saith he? O God forbid Mine oath should tie my tongue to keepe in this. This ouglie sinne of treason, which to tell Mine oath compells me, faith against my faith Must not be kept. My falshood here is truth And I must tell•• friend or friend not, Il•• tell. Dymnus amaz'd hearing beyond conceipt The self-willd youth vow to reueale their plot: Stands staring on him, drawing back his breath, Or els his breath confounded with his thoughts

Bufied with death and horror, could not worke, Not hauing leasure now, to thinke what was But what would be, his feares were runne before, And at misfortune ere she came to him. At length yet, when his reason had reduc'd His flying thoughts back to some certaine stand, Perceiuing yet some distance was betwixt Death and his feares which gaue him time to worke, With his returning spirits he drew his sword, Puts it t'his owne then to my brothers throate, Then layes it downe, thē wrings his hands, thē kneeles. Then stedfast lookes, then takes him in his armes, Weepes on his neck, no word, but O wilt thou? Wilt thou, be the destruction of vs all? And finding no relenting in the youth. His milerie grew furiou•• and againe He takes his sworde, and sweares to sacrifice To silence and their cause, his dearest bloud. The boy amaz'd, seeing no other way, Was faine to vow, and promise secrecie; And as if wonne t'allow and take that part, Prayes him to tell, who were his complices. Which, though perplext with grief for what was done, Yet thinking now t'haue gained him to his side, Dymnus replyes: no wor••e then Loceus, Demetrius of the priuie Chamber, and Nicanor, Amyntas, and Archelopis, Drocenus, Aphebetus, Leuculaus, Shall be th'associats of Nichomacus. This when my brother once had vnderstood,

And after much a do had got away He comes and ••els me all the whole discourse: Which here I haue related vnto you, And here will I attend t'auouch the same, Or bring my brother to confirme as much. Whome now I leaft behinde, least the conspirators Seeing him here vnusing to this place, Suspecting ••'b'appeachd, might shifts away.

Phil.

Well fellow, I haue heard thy strange report, And will finde time t'acquaint the king therewith,