Revenge for honour a tragedie / by George Chapman.

ACTUS PRIMUS.

Scena I.

Enter Selinthus, Gaselles, and Osman.

Sel.

NO murmurings, Noble Captains.

Gas.

Murmurings, Cosen? this Peace is worse to men of war and action then fasting in the face o'th' fo, or lodging on the cold earth. Give me the Camp, say I, where in the Sutlers palace on pay-day we may the precious liquor quaff, and kisse his buxome wife; who though she be not clad in Persian Silks, or costly Tyrian Purples, has a clean skin, soft thighes, and wholsome corps, fit for the trayler of the puissant Pike, to sollace in delight with.

Os.

Here in your lewd Citie, the Harlots do avoid us sons o'th' Sword, worse then a severe Officer. Besides, here men o'th' Shop can gorge their mustie maws with the delicious Capon, and fat limbs of Mutton large enough to be held shoulders o'th' Ram anco••ge the 1•• Signes, while for pure want your souldier oft dines at the charge o'th' dead, 'mong tombs in the great Mo••que.

Sel.

'Tis beleev'd Coz, and by the wisest few too, that i'th' Camp you do not feed on pleasant: po••lts; a ••allad,

and without oyl or vinegar, appeases sometimes your guts, although they keep more noise then a large pool ful of ingendring frogs. Then for accoutrements, you wear the Buff, as you believ'd it heresie to change for linnen: Surely most of yours is spent in lint, to make long tents for your green wounds after an onslaught.

Gas

Coz. these are sad truths, incident to fraile mortals!

Sel.

You yet crie out with more eagernesse stil for new wars, then women for new fashions.

Os.

'Tis confess'd, Peace is more opposite to my nature, then the running ach in the rich Usurers feet, when he roars out, as if he were in hel before his time. Why, I love mischief, Coz, when one may do't securely; to cut throats with a licencious pleasure; when good men and true o'th Jurie, with their frostie beards shall not have power to give the noble wesand, which has the steele defied, to th' hanging mercy of the ungracious cord.

Sel.

Gentlemen both, and Cozens mine, I do believe 't much pity, to strive to reconvert you from the faith you have been bred in: though your large discourse and praise, wherein you magnifie your Mistriss, Warr, shall scarce drive me from my quiet sheets, to sleep upon a turfe. But pray say, Cozens. How do you like your General, Prince, is he a right Mars?

Gas.

As if his Nurse had lapt him in swadling clouts of steele; a very Hector and Alcibiades.

Sel.

It seems he does not relish these boasted sweets of warre: for all his triumphs, he is reported melancholy.

Os.

Want of exercise renders all men of actions, dul as dormise; your Souldier only can dance to the Drum, and sing a Hymn of joy to the sweet Trumpet: there's no musick like it.

Enter Abrahen, Mura, and Simanthes.

Ab.

I'll know the cause, he shall deny me hardly else.

Mu.

His melancholy, known whence it rises once, 't may much conduce to help our purpose.

Gas.

Pray Coz. what Lords are these? they seem as ful of plot, as General•• are in Siege, they're very serious.

Sel.

That young Stripling is our great Emperors son, by his last wife: that in the rich Imbroidery's, the Court Hermes; one that has hatcht more projects, then the ovens in Egypt chickens; the other, though they cal friends, his meer opposite Planet Mars, one that does put on a reserv'd gravitie, which some call wisdom, the rough Souldier Mura▪ Governour ••'th' Moroccos.

Os.

Him we've heard of before: but Cozen, shal that man of trust, thy tailor, furnish us with new accoutrements? hast thou tane order for them?

Sel.

Yes, yes, you shal flourish in fresh habiliments; but you must promise me not to ingage your corporal oathes you wil see't satisfied at the next press, out of the profits that arise from ransome of those rich yeomans heites, that dare not look the fierce foe in the face.

Gas.

Doubt not our truths, though we be given much to contradictions, we wil not pawn oaths of that nature.

Sel.

Wel then, this note does fetch the garments: meet me Cozens anon at Supper.

Ex••unt Gas. Os.

Os.

Honourable Coz▪ we wil come give our thanks.

Enter Abilqualis.

Ab.

My gracious brother, make us not such a stranger to your thoughts, to consume all your honors in close retirements; perhaps since you from Spain return'd a victor, with (the worlds conqueror) Alexander, you greive Nature ordain'd no other earths to vanquish; if't be so, Princely brother, we'le bear part

in your heroique melancholy.

Abil.

Gentle youth. press me no farther, I stil hold my temper free and unshaken, only some fond thoughts of trivial moment, cal my faculties to private meditations.

Sim.

Howsoe're your Hignesse does please to term them, 'tis meer melancholy, which next to sin, is the greatest maladie that can oppress mans soul.

Sel.

They say right: and that your Grace may see what a meer madnesse, a very mid-summer frenzy, 'tis to be melancholy, for any man that wants no monie, I (with your pardon) wil discusse unto you all sorts, all sizes, persons and conditions, that are infected with it; and the reasons why it in each arises.

Ab.

Learned Selinthus, Let's tast of thy Philosophie

Mu.

Pish, 'Tis unwelcome to any of judgment, this fond prate▪ I marvel that our Emperor dos permit fools to abound ith' Court!

Sel.

What makes your grave Lordship in it, I do beseech you? But Sir, mark me, the kernel of the text enucleated, I shall confute, refute, repel, refel, explode, exterminate, expunge, extinguish like a rush candle, this same heresie, that is shot up like a pernicious Mushroom, to poison true humanitie.

Ab.

You shall stay and hear a lecture read on your disease; you shal, as I love virtue.

Sel.

First the cause then from whence this flatus Hypocondriacus, this glimmering of the gizard (for in wild fowl, 'tis term'd so by Hyp••crates) arises, is as Averroes and Avicen, with Abenbucar, Baruch and Aboflii, and all the Arabick writers have affirm'd, a meer defect, that is as we interpret▪ a want of —

Abil.

Of what, Selinthus?

Sel.

Of wit, and please your Highnesse,

That is the cause in gen'ral, for particular and special causes, they are all deriv'd from severall wants; yet they must be considerd, pondred, perpended, or premeditated.

Sim.

My Lord, y'ad best be brief, your Patient will be wearie else.

Sel.

I cannot play the fool rightly, I mean▪ the Physician without I have licence to expalcat on the disease. But (my good Lord) more briefly, I shall declare to you like a man of wisdom and no Physician, who deal all in simples, why men are melancholy. First, for your Courties,

Sim.

It concerns us all to be attentive, Sir.

Sel.

Your sage and serious Courtier, who does walk with a State face, as he had drest himself ith' Emperors glasse, and had his beard turn'd up by the' irons Roial, he will be as pensive as Stallion after Catum, when he wants suits, begging suits, I mean▪ Me thinks, (my Lord) you are grown something solemn on the sudden; since your Monopolies and Patents, which made your purse swell like a wet spunge, have been reduc'd to th' last gasp. Troth, it is far better to confesse here, then in a worser place. Is it not so indeed?

Abil.

What ere he does by mine, I'me sure h'as hit the cause from whence your grief springs, Lord Simanthes.

Sel.

No Egyptian Soothsayer has truer inspirations, then your small Courtiers from causes and wants manifold; as when the Emperors count'nance with propitious noise does not cry chink in pocket, no repute is with Mercer, nor with Tailor; nay sometimes too the humor's pregnant in him, when repulse is given him by a Beautie: I can speak this though from no Memphian Priest, or sage Caldean, from the best Mistris (Gentlemen) an Experience. Last night I had a mind t'a comly Semstress, who did refuse me, and behold, ere since how like an Ass I look.

Enter Tarifa.

Tar.

What, at your Counsels, Lords? the great Almanzor requires your presence, Mura; has decree'd

the Warr for Persia. You (my gracious Lord) Prince Abilqualet, are appointed Chief: And you, brave spirited Abrahen, an Assistant to your victorious Brother: You, Lord Mura, destin'd Lieutenant General.

Abil.

And must I march against the foe, without thy company? I relish not th' imployment.

Tar.

Alas, my Lord, Tarifa's head's grown white beneath his helmet; and your good Father thought it charity to spare mine age from travel: though this ••ase will be more irksome to me then the toil of war in a sharp winter.

Abr.

It arrives just to our wish. My gracious brother, I anon shall wait on you: mean time, valiant Mura, let us attend my Father.

Exeunt Ab. Mura, Sim.

Abil.

Good Selinthus, vouchsafe a while your absence, I shall have imployment shortly for your trust.

Sel.

Your Grace shall have as much power to command Selinthus, as his best fanci'd Mistress. I am your creature.

Exit.

Tar.

Now, my Lord, I hope y'are cloath'd with all those resolutions that usher glorious minds to brave a••chievements. The happy genius on your youth attendant declares it built for Victories and Triumphs; and the proud Persian Monarchie, the sole emulous opposer of the Arabique Greatnesse, eourts (like a fair Bride) your Imperial Arms, waiting t' invest You Soveraigne of her beauties. Why are you dull (my Lord?) Your cheerful looks should with a prosp'rous augury presage a certain Victory: when you droop already, as if the foe had ravish'd from your Crest the noble Palm. For shame (Sir) be more sprightly; your sad appearance, should they thus behold you, would half unsoul your Army,

Abil.

'Tis no matter, Such looks best sute my fortune. Know (Tarifa) I'm undispos'd to manage this great Voiage, and must not undertake it.

Tar.

Must not, Sir! Is't possible a love-sick youth, whose hopes are fixt on marriage, on his bridal night

should in soft slumbers languish? that your Arms should rust in ease, now when you hear the charge, and see before you the triumphant Prize destin'd t' adorn your Valour? You should rather be furnish'd with a power above these passions; and being invok'd by the mighty charm of Honour, flie to atchieve this war, not undertake it. I'd rather you had said, Tarifa ly'd, then utter'd such a sound, harsh and unwelcome.

Abil.

I know thou lov'st me truly, and durst I to any born of woman, speak my intentions, the fatal cause which does withdraw my courage from this imployment, which like health I covet, thou shouldst enjoy it fully. But (Tarifa) the said discov'ry of it is not fit for me to utter, much lesse for thy vertue to be acquainted with.

Tar.

Why (my Lord?) my loyaltie can merit no suspicion from you of falshood: whatsoere the cause be or good, or wicked, 't meets a trustie silence, and my best care and honest counsel shall indeavour to reclaim, or to assist you if it be good, if ill, from your bad purpose.

Abil.

Why, that I know (Tarifa.) 'Tis the love thou bear'st to honour, renders thee unapt to be partaker of those resolutions that by compulsion keep me from this Voiage: For they with such inevitable sweetnesse invade my sense, that though in their performance my Fame and Vertue even to death do languish, I must attempt, and bring them unto act, or perish i'th' pursuance.

Tar.

Heaven avert a mischief so prodigious. Though I would not with over-sawcie boldnesse presse your counsels; yet pardon (Sir) my Loialtie, which ••imorous of your lov'd welfare, must intreat, beseech you with ardent love and reverence, to disclose the hidden cause that can estrange your courage from its own Mars, with-hold you from this Action so much ally'd to honour: Pray reveal it: By all your hopes of what you hold most precious, I do implore it; for my faith in breeding

your youth in warrs great rudiments, relieve Tarifa's fears, that wander into strange unwelcome doubts, left some ambitious frenzy 'gainst your imperial fathers dignitie has late seduc'd your goodness.

Abr.

No, Tarifa, I ne're durst aim at that unholy height in viperous wickednesse; a sinlesse, harmlesse (ift can be truly term'd one) 'tis my soul labours even to dispaire with: t'faine would out, did not my blushes interdict my language: 'tis unchast love, Tarifa; nay, tak't all, and when thou hast it, pity my misfortunes, to fair Caropia, the chast, vertuous wife to surly Mura.

Tar.

What a fool Desire is! with Giant strengths it makes us court the knowledg of hidden mysteries, which once reveal'd, far more inconstant then the air, it fleets into new wishes, that the coveted secret had slept still in oblivion.

Abil.

I was certaine 'twould fright thy innocence, and look to be besieged with strong disswasions from my purpose: but be assur'd, that I have tir'd my thoughts with all the rules that ••each men moral goodnesse, so to reclaime them from this love-sick looseness; but they (like wholesome medicines misaplied) fac'd their best operation, fond and fruitlesse. Though I as wel may hope to kiss the Sun-beams 'cause they shine on me, as from her to gaine one g••ance of comfort; yet my mind, that pities it self with constant tendernesse, must needs revolve the cause of its calamity, and melt i'th' pleasure of so sweet a sadness.

Tar.

Then y'are undone for ever; Sir, undon beyond the help of councel or repentance. 'Tis most ignoble, that a mind unshaken by fear, should by a vain desire be broken; or that those powers no labour e're could vanquish, should be orecome and thral'd by sordid pleasure. Pray (Sir) consider, that in glorious war, which makes Ambition (by base men termed ••in) a big and gallant Virtue, y'ave been nurs'd,

lull'd (as it were) into your infant sleeps by th' surly noise o'th' trumpet, which n••w summons you to victorious use of your indowments: and shall a Mistrisse stay you! such a one too, as to attempt, then war it self's more dangerous!

Abil.

All these perswasions are to as much purpose, as you should strive to reinvest with peace, and all the joyes of health and life, a soul condemn'd to perpe••uity of torments. No (my Tarifa) though through all disgraces, losse of my honour, fame, nay hope for Empire, I should be forc'd to wade to obtain her love; those seas of mischief would be pleasing streams, which I would hast to bath in, and passe through them with that delight thou would'st to victory, or slaves long chain'd to'th' oare, to sudden freedom••.

Tar.

Were you not Abilqualit, from this time then our friendships (like two rivers from one head rising) should wander a dissever'd course, and never meet againe, unlesse to quarrel. Nay, old and stiffe, now as my iron garments, were you my son, my sword should teach your wildness a swift way to repentance. Y'are my Prince, on whom all hopes depend; think on your Father, that lively Image of majestick goodness, who never yet wrong'd Matron in his lust, or man in his displeasure. Pray conjecture your Father, Countrie, Army, by my mouth beseech your pietie to an early pittie of your yet unslain Innocence. No attention! Farwel: my praiers shall wait you, though my Counsels be thus despis'd. Farwel Prince!

Exit.

Abil.

'Las good man, he weeps. Such tears I've seen fall from his manly eyes once when ye lost a battel. Why should I put off my Reason, Valor, Honour, Virtue, in hopes to gain a Beautie, whose possession renders me more uncapable of peace, then I am now I want it? Like a sweet, much coveted banquet, 'tis no sooner tasted, but it's delicious luxury's forgotten. Besides, it is unlawful. Idle fool, there is no law, but what's prescribed by Love, Natures first moving Organ; nor can ought

what Nature dictates to us be held vicious. On then, my soul, and destitute of fears, like an adventrous Mariner, that knows storms must attend him, yet dares court his peril, strive to obtain this happy Port. Mesith••s (Loves cunning Advocate) does for me besiege (with gifts and vows) her Chastitie. She is compass'd with flesh, that's not invulnerable, and may by Love's sharp darts be pierc'd. They stand firm, whom no art can bring to Love's command.

Enter Abrahen,

Abr.

My gracious brother!

Abil.

Dearest Abrahen, welcome. Tis certainly decreed by our dread Father, we must both march against th' insulting foe. How does thy youth, yet uninur'd to travel, relish the Imploiment?

Abr.

War is sweet to those that never have experienc'd it. My youth cannot desire in that big Art a nobler Tutor then you (my Brother••) Like an Eglet following her dam, I shall your honour'd steps trace through all dangers, and be proud to borrow a branch, when your head's coverd ore with Lawrel, to deck my humbler temples.

Abil.

I do know thee of valiant active soul; and though a youth, thy forward spirit merits the Command of Chief, rather then Second in an Armie. Would heaven our Roial Father had bestow'd on thee the Charge of General.

Abr.

On me, Sir! Alas, 'tis fit I first should know those Arts that do distinguish Valour from wild rashness. A Gen'ral (Brother) must have abler nerves of Judgment, then in my youth can be hop'd for. Your self already like a flourishing Spring teeming with early Victories, the Souldier expects should lead them to new Triumphs, as if you had vanquisht fortune.

Abil.

I am not so ambitious (Abrahen) of particular glories, but I would have those whom I love partake them. This Persian war, the last of the whole East

left to be managed, if I can perswade the great Almanzor, shall be the trophee of thy yet maiden Valour. I have done enough already to inform Succession, that Abilqualit durst on fiercest foes run to fetch Conquest home, and would have thy name as great as mine in Arms, that Historie might register, our Familie abounded with Heroes, born for Victorie.

Abr.

Tis an honour, which, though it be above my powers, committed to my direction, I would seek to manage with care above my yeers, and courage equal to his, that dares the horrid'st face of danger: But 'tis your noble courtesie would thrust this mas••'line honor (far above his merits) on your regardless Brother; for my Father, he has no thought tending to your intentions; nor though your goodness should desire, would hardly be won to yeild consent to them.

Abil.

Why, my Abrahen, w'are both his sons, and should be both alike dear to's affections; and though birth hath given me the larger hopes and Titles, 'twere unnatural, should he not strive t' indow thee with a portion apted to the magnificence of his Off-spring. But thou perhaps art timorous, lest thy first essayes of valour should meet fate disastrous. The bold are Fortunes darlings. If thou hast courage to venture on this great imploiment, doubt not, I shall prevail upon our Father t' ordain thee Chief in this brave hopefull Voiage.

Abr.

You imagine me beyond all thought of gratitude; and doubt not that I'll deceive your trust. The glorious Ensignes waving i'th' air once, like so many Comets, shall speak the Persians funerals, on whose ruines we'l build to Fame and Victorie new temples, which shall like Pyramids preserve our memories, when we are chang'd to ashes.

Abil.

Be sure, continue in this brave minde; I'll instantly solicite our Father to confirm thee in the Charge of General, I'll about it.

Exit.

Abr.

Farewel gracious Brother. This haps above my hopes. 'Las, good dull fool, I see through thy intents, clear, as thy soul were as transparent as thin air or Cristal. He would have me remov'd, march with the Armie, that he mean time might make a sure defeat on our aged fathers life and Empire: 't must be certain as the light. Why should not this with equall heat, be like my thoughts, ambitious? Be they as harmless as the prai'rs of Virgins, I'll work his ruine out of his intentions. He like a thick cloud stands 'twixt me and Greatnesse: Greatnesse, the wise mans true felicity, Honour's direct inheritance. My youth wil quit suspicion of my subtil practice: then have I surly Mura and Simanthes, my allyes by my dead Mothers bloud, my assistants, his Eunuch too Mesithes at my service. Simanthes shall inform the King, the people desire Prince Abilqualit's stay; and Mura whose blunt demeanour renders him oraculous, make a shrewd inference out of it. He is my half Brother, th' other's my Father; names, meer airie titles! Soveraigntie's onely sacred, Greatnesse goodnesse, true self-affection Justice, every thing righteous that's helpfull to create a King.

Enter Mura, Simanthes.

Abr.

My trustie friends, y'are welcome: our fate's above our wishes; Abilqualit by whatso'ere pow'r mov'd to his own ruine, would fain inforce his charge of General on me, and stay at home.

Sim.

Why, how can this conduce t' advance our purpose?

Abr.

Tis the mainest engine could ever move to ruine him. Simanthes, you shall inform our Father, tis the people out of their tender love desires his stay. You (Mura) shall infer my Brothers greatnesse with people; out of it, how nice it is and dangerous. The air is open here; come, wee'll discourse with more secure privacie our purpose. No••hing's unjust, unsacred, tends to advance us to a Kingdom; that's the height of chance.