Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A30838
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Cyrus the Great, or, The tragedy of love as it is acted at the theatre in Little-Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, by His Majesty's servants / written by John Banks.
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Banks, John, d. 1706.
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1696
(1696)
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Wing B656; ESTC R17203
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42,740
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68
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hear me beg In vain who once you said was Beautiful and lov'd Cyr. Panthea rise I cannot see you bend There 's something in those Eyes wou'd cheat me still Although I know their kindness is not meant To me No no these Prayers and Tâ—ars are all My Rivals still Behold there 's one cou'dâ—speak If it had Life but that is slain by thee Shews the body of Cyâ—x See see the silent everlasting Cause Of Abradatas Fate Panth. Ah me the sight Is dreadful but you must forget it He kill'd him fairly in his Life's defence And you may add a little too for Love The gallant Cyrus wou'd have done as much Had he bin urg'd or had the like Occasion Cyr. Away Panthea hence thou plead'st against Thy self and hast recall'd each wandering Spark That stray'd without my Breast and fann'd 'em to A Flame that if thou talk'st will ne're be quench'd Away with him I say Death to you all That disobey a Moment Abrad. I Court that Death and cannot wish to live A life so mean that 's in thy power to give But ah Panthea Panth. Stay for we must live Or dye together Cyrus take thy Choice Give me thy Hand my Love Thus we will grow Panthea runs and takes Abrad. by the hand Joyning our selves together thus Thus fix'd By great Diana's Soul immoveable So mingle not our Souls nor beams of sight so twist As are these Hands united Why d' ye stay Come bear him to his Fate By Constancy I vow this Hand shall go along with him Not all your Torments Pincers nor Devices Shall wrench these Knots asunder no unless You cut this off so you may part our Bodies But then my Spirits shall retire that moment Flying to th' part that 's nearest to my Love And my lost Hand shall hold him still thus fast And Perish with him as the Body wou'd Craes. Behold do not the Gods look down and wonder Cyr. What shall I do Craesus advise me straight Craes. I am beyond all Sence the Miracle Has almost struck me dumb Yet you had best Begone Retire Sir from this melting Object O never interrupt such Happiness But send these rare and faithful Lovers home To be the Wonder of all Worlds to come Cyr. O how shall I begin Craesus I 'll do it I am resolv'd yet cannot though I wou'd When I have gain'd the highest Victory o're My mind then straight I feel my climbing Love Ascends by stealth and reaching to the top Pulls all my slippery Resolutions down Assist me Gods and guide my sickly Virtue Enter to them Lausaria Distracted drest like a Cupid with a Bow and Quiver follow'd by her Women Laus Ye daring Mortals wou'd ye hinder me Let me alone I say Prepare my Chariot Go fetch me Boreas straight and bid him bring me A gentle Wind to spread my fiery Wings Then I 'll ride faster than the Fleeting Air Or Raceing Clouds The Stars shall be my Guides And in a Moment I will reach the Gods Craes. O Dismal sight Laus My Father weeps If tears cou'd quench thee I. SONG O Take him gently from the Pile And lay him here to rest And I will â—corch for him the while If he must burn then burn him in my Breast For there is Fire there is shame Enough to set the World on flame Craes. Hear me Lausaria thou hadst once a Brother Doom'd by the Gods to want the gift of Speech And yet his Dumbness could not so afflict me As these wild words torment thy Father's Soul Laus This Bow and Quiver were a wanton Cupid's I watch'd the Boy as he lay down to sleep And stole his Amunition from his side And now I 've got 'em I will be reveng'd On all mankind on all the Sex at once And shoot Love's Plague into their Breasts Stand fair II. SONG I Am arm'd and delare For a Vigerous War By my Bow and my Quiver I swear Not a Rebel â—0 Love will I spare This Shaft I will draw to the Head And shoot the great Persian shoot him dead The Tyrani shall die there 's one will deny him Let him Court her with Crowns she shall fly him This Shaft I will draw to the Head And shoot the great Archer dead Cyr. Her Sence is out of Tune her Wits not well But yet alas her Tongue is Charming still Laus Here is a Dart by Limping Vulcan made Tip'd with the Clippings of a red hot Star The same that Venus when she robb'd her Son Chose from the rest to shoot Adonis with I 'll burn you ev'ry one till you indure Worse Pains than I Ha! Cyrus there Have at thee I think I 've struck thee Cruel Flint I have She shoots and hits Cyrus Cyr. Thou hast indeed and touch'd me to the quick I thank the Gods there wanted but this sight To rouze my slumbering Vertue Sweet Lausaria Th' ast pierc'd my rocky Heart and see it melts Cyrus Weeps Laus Ha! have I hurt him Curst was I to do so Look how the Blood runs trickling down his Face Help help Panthea Abradatas help Can you behold that Bleeding brave good Man And not bestow one Sigh or Tear between you Indeed you are to blame I cou'd shed Rivers And with my sighs disturb the endless Ocean Weeps Craes. Poor Girl She tires her self with her Wild Thoughts When will her roving Fancy get some rest Laus Go go you are a pair of Constant Fools To Panthea c. You are not fit to dwell amongst Mankind Get you to Wilds to Fountains and the Woods There graft your Follies on the Barks of Trees And write sad Songs upon th'unconstant Sands Which are as false as are the Hearts of Men Or get you to the Eccho Owl and Magpye They say they once were Mortals like your selves Dye like a pair of faithful silly Lovers Dye dye and get you to Elizium There be the things you dream of there be such As are your selves Go get you to Elizium And I will follow you so soon as e're I can Hey hoe I have a mind to sleen Craes. Come lead her gently to her Bed Laus Well let me make my Will since Love must dye And leave to every one a Legacy This Dart I give To those that are Ambitious of a Name And fall in Love with such a Jilt as Fame This tipt with Gold to Sages on the Bench Who have One Eye for Bribery t'other for a Wench This Wicked one that at the Pulpit Drives To Priests who Love good Livings hate good Lives And send you all to Heaven by your Wives This Matrimonial Dart that shames the Giver To Marry'd Folks the worst of all my Quiver My Wealth to Poets thrift to Eldest Sons My Truth to Courtiers Chastity to Nuns My Wantonness I do bequeath in Plenty To all the Women in the World of Twenty My Eyes to Alchymists my Brains to Schools Scorn to the Brave and all my Love to Fools Exit Craes. What say you now How feel you now
greatest Man May stoop to Love Nay Solon has confess'd That he himself was once a Slave to Love Cyr. Solon had Solon that to lose as I have Had he the business of the World to fill His thoughts and chace away all soft Idea's Books might have fashion'd his tame Soul to Love But mine shou'd have been hardened wrought by War Proof as the Anvil 'gainst the Cyclop's Hammers And Glory in my Breast shou'd have Eclips'd The Rays of Beauty How I hate my self Achilles when a Boy did never handle And ply the Distaff with such Female Skill Cyax. Still you run on are too severe a Judge Ev'n to your self your Honour is too nice And Dictates to you with a ridged Breath This noble caution o're your looser Passions Shews yet a greater Conquest o're your Mind Than if you ne're had felt what Love had bin 'T is Mortal-like to be the Aim of Vice But it is God-like to resist its Fury Cyr. Teach me dear Unkle teach me how to do so I feel my Vertue now begins to tire And Love Plays all the Tyrant in my Soul When I begin to wish the Pain away O then I wish the pleasant grief to keep Enter to them Hystaspes Hyst Thus low Hystaspes falls beneath your Feet And comes to know his Monarch's joyful Doom Cyr. Welcome Hystaspes once more to my Arms And from this time for ever to my Breast No Love nor Jealousie shall henceforth throw Suspitions 'twixt my Friend and me Hyst Then 't is Above the Malice of Fiends in Hell To Shock me from the state I now remain in Bless'd be the Gods that have again Install'd me In the Immortal Throne of Cyrus's Favour But oh forgive forgive your Soldier 's Crimes Led by his Frailties Cyr. Thou art good Hystaspes 'T is thou hast cause to blame thy Cyrus's Temper When like a Man infected mad in Love I threw at random hurt my dearest Friends So rag'd I with the wild Promethean Fire But I will quench it quench it ev'ry Spark And the bright Venus then that glitter'd in My Eyes I will behold hurtless as shadows Or as Iove's Bird the Eagle does the Sun Hyst O my lov'd Lord persue your gallant Hopes She shall be yours by all the Powers above My self shall hold your Hymen's Torch O Sir She 's too Divine for all the World but you Cyr. No more Hystaspes There is something in Thy Face that shews thou art not yet well pleas'd Tell me why look'st thou still upon us with A troubled Brow Hyst I came from such a sight Wou'd strike Compassion from obdurate Rocks And make soft Pity flow from Hearts of Steel The Courage of your Soldiers flags to tell it Cyr. Out with it tho' let it be ne're so dreadful Hyst The Fair th' unhappy Innocent Lausaria Is grown distracted by a violent Grief Her Wits her Pretious Senses quite are gone The Ornaments of so much Beauty fled Fled to the Gods that gave them and no doubt E're long will draw the lovely Body after Cyax. Ha! what say'st thou Cyr. Can this be true Hystaspes Cyax. The Cause Hyst Do you not guess it since she own'd A Passion for the Great and Famous Cyrus The sad occasion was alas that she Too lightly had reveal'd her Love to you For from your Presence she no sooner was Convey'd to her Appartment but her Anger Which first adorn'd her Face with blushing Red Streight snatch'd the Roses from her Cheeks and left A Pale and Trembling Colour in their stead Mountains and Hills come cover me she said â— No no Eternal Darkness shroud my Head From Cyrus's sight O! Cyrus follows me He mocks me Hide me from his scornful Eyes Cyr. Hold hold Hystaspes give me strength to hear thee Thou pour'st ill News too fast upon my Soul So But go on Hyst This for some Minutes held her Till from the Fatal Extasie she rose And strugling to recal her wandring Senses Look'd round about her Wild and Beautiful But oh thou rash Minerva to permit it She let her Words at random so disperse That we too soon the Fatal Meaning knew Through all their dark and ridled Sense Cyr. Pry'thee what said she Say did she not Curse me Hyst Thus she wou'd talk Where 's Cyrus where Has he not heard I love him Curs'd be the Wretch that first disclos'd my flame See where she 's hurld and has no rest below A Thousand Souls of Chast and Modest Virgins Arm at her sight and drive me from the Shades Then must I back into the World again O there is Cyrus and Panthea too He Loves her and she Loves him not again Ha! There th' art punish'd false deluding Man Thou art Revenge me O Panthea on him But see my Cyrus weeps O pity him Cruel Panthea cruellest of thy Sex What merciless Panther gave thy Mother Suck That bred in thee such Monstruous Savage Nature As not t' adore so excellent a Man Enter to them Craesus weeping Crae O Cyrus I perceive the Gods ordain Thy Friends and Foes to fall alike by thee By all their Ruins to adorn thy Triumph Pity the Man whose breath thou didst restore Pity my Daughter on whose future state That Life depends Go in and see what Wrack What wild destruction thy still Conquering Genius In Love as well as War has made amongst Lausariar's Beauties Cyr. When when ye Gods will all these mischiefs cease Or grow to such a Bulk will sink me quite Chide me not Craesus chide not the unhappy Convey me to her streight and strive With me to Charm the cruel Deities And save the greatest miracle of Love Exeunt Cyrus and Craesus Cyax. Why why ye Gods has Cyrus so deserv'd That almost at the Race's end of Glory Worse than Pandora's Plagues is sent amongst us Beauty thou subtile spoyler of the World Man were a God-head were it not for thee And there was never Hero yet below That rais'd the Jealous Envy of the Gods But this this never failing Curse was sent To ruin all his Fame and blast his Glories Hystaspes when does Balthazar intend To give us Battel Hyst Early this next Morning I understood it by a Slave of mine That fled at my Command some few days since And dewlt a Spy within the Enemies Camp He 's now return'd and tells me both the number Order and strength of this so potent Army He likewise says that next their multitudes They put their chiefest Hopes and Confidence In brave Thomyris and her Scythian Bowmen Relying thus on his unweildy Forces And fed with lyes of Soothsayers he remains Close in his Tent Carrouses Feasts and Revels Scorning the Gods the Fates and thinks them poor And all besides his boasted Power but mean Cyax. Wou'd it were now Hystaspes wou'd the Fight Were now beginning and the Trumpets call Did Rouze fond Cyrus from these Painted Dreams The danger wou'd be less to find him so Inclos'd than in his Tents besieg'd with Love His Breast lay'd open to