Love's triumph, or, The royal union a tragedy / written by Edward Cooke, Esq., and dedicated to Her Highness the Princess of Orange.

About this Item

Title
Love's triumph, or, The royal union a tragedy / written by Edward Cooke, Esq., and dedicated to Her Highness the Princess of Orange.
Author
Cooke, Edward, fl. 1678.
Publication
London :: Printed by Thomas James, and are to be sold by him ... and William Leach ...,
1678.
Rights/Permissions

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Subject terms
Mary -- II, -- Queen of England, 1662-1694 -- Drama.
William -- III, -- King of England, 1650-1702 -- Drama.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A34410.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Love's triumph, or, The royal union a tragedy / written by Edward Cooke, Esq., and dedicated to Her Highness the Princess of Orange." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A34410.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 15, 2025.

Pages

SCENE III.
Rox.
Now Prince—how must this Obligation be Receiv'd,—still as a Fatal Courtesie? Where had you been but in the Shades below, If I had not kept off that dreadful blow.
Cassander
was so resolute to give? Remember, Sir, by whom it is you live.
Oroon.
I must confess, if I that life did prize, Which you preserve but for new Cruelties; The Obligation would be then so great, That, Bankrupt-like, I could not pay the Debt.
Rox.
Yet Bankrupts, as in Justice they are bound, Do first with their Chief Creditors Compound.
Oroon.
That Madam, I most willingly will do, You shall have all I'm able to bestow. I own Cassander did my Life pursue, And I acknowledge 'twas preserv'd by you: And now I would (witness y' Eternal Pow'rs,) Give back that Life again to rescue yours.
Oroon.
And is this all?—this, Sir, does only prove Th'effects of Generosity, not Love.
Oroon.
If Love y' expect, another's right y'invade: Heav'n, and my vows have me Statira's made, And could I now, swerve from those vows I've giv'n, I should alike be false to Her, and Heav'n—

Page 41

Madam, I cannot that desire fulfil.
Rox.
The cause springs only from your stubborn will. And since my Fate is thy proud scorn t'indure, Ungrateful Prince, revenge shall be my cure. Revenge against my Rival I will bear, Attended with the raging of despair.— If of thy heart I can't the Empire get, Yet I'll dethrone my Rival from its Seat: Assure thy self that she shall never live Another Visit from thee to receive. No,—ill take care since you are lost to me, To make her by her Death be lost to thee.
Exit.
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