Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A59315
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The heir of Morocco, with the death of Gayland acted at the Theatre Royal / by E. Settle.
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Settle, Elkanah, 1648-1724.
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1682
(1682)
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Wing S2689; ESTC R10746
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32,906
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63
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thy way to Ruine But I 'll put out th' infatuating Meteor Prepare fond Girl to obey thy Father's Will T' extinguish all thy vaprous wandring Fires And gild thy Brows with an Imperial Diadem Psepare by th' Setting of to morrow's Sun To sleep in Gayland's arms or sleep for ever Alt. Oh hold let not the Breath of Majesty Pronounce those barbarous words as will Un-king you Think think what Cruelty Alb. Take him away Attendants seize him Confine him a close Prisoner to his Chamber The Charge be yours To Morat Alt. Confusion to a Jayl Alb. And to remove all Bars to my Ambition He that amongst you mark me dares but breath One Syllable of this bold Traytor 's Love By Alla the Villain dies And you Morat Perform your Charge If you but let him stir Or in revenge of his defeated Arrogance By Letters or by Messages attempt Ought that may block her way to Gayland's Arms Observe me well thou' rt Food for Dogs and Vultures Art Is this a Father's Voice ye Gods I die Fainting Alt. Oh raise thy drooping head look up fair injured Sweetness And hear those Sounds shall strike Dishonor dead Ungrateful King is this the black Reward Which you return your Conquering Soldiers Toyls Have I for this from all the Ports of Fame Past all the Storms of Fate to make you glorious All dyed your Ocean with the Christian Purple And since you make me vain sent down such Crouds Of your slain Foes to the Infernal Shades Alb. Vain-glorious Fool What if you conquer'd was it not by me Was 't not my Fleet my Arms my Thunder kill'd And I the mighty Genius that inspir'd ' em Take the vain Boaster hence Alt. Yet stay Inspired by thee thy barbarous Genius No. If I subdued 't was Artemira conquer'd For her I fought for her I vanquisht fill'd With her great Love and her immortal Charms I strook my Javelin in the Gates of Death And all the crowding Fates prest out in Arms To aid thy Cause At her dread Name Strength of my arm and Goddess of my Wars Destruction Conquest Ruine hung round my Shield My Cause Life Courage Glory And Guardian Angells all were Artemira's Alb. Proud insolent Boy to make her Vanity As great as thine Her Cause Life Glory Is Gayland's Heart Beneath her Feet a King and Empire lie And 't is a Prize she must accept or die Alt. Oh I am lost Art Hear me but one word If you 're resolv'd I shall be false false to This gallant man the Lord of all my Vows My Loss will break his Heart and I shall be his Murderer You 'll make me crueller than your Venetian Enemies When in a base Return to all his Conquests Your Daughters Scorn must kill your Kingdoms Champion And stab that Heart your Foes could never reach Alt. Great Gods he sees that kneeling Deity Unmoved with all her Prayers Inverted Nature Can man be deaf when Heaven is a Petitioner Art Ah Sir if e'er my gentle Mother pleas'd you If th' only Reliques of her Royal Blood Can move you to Compassion show it now 'T is true dread Siâ— I know you 'd make me great But what 's Ambition where there 's Love above it You 'd fix me high on an Imperial Seat But if you do you kill me No my Lord My Paradise in him him only lies And Love 's a Flower which once transplanted dies Alb. And this is all the Excuse thy Disobedience Can frame for all thy humble abject Folly Alt. Ah Sir though you have no Remorse for Me Look on that Face that Angel-Beauty weeps The pretious Dew falls from those Suns above O see a Chain of Pearl hangs on those Lids Enough to bribe an angry God to Mercy And have her Tears no Power Alb. Yes Ravisher To the disgrace of her degenerate Soul I see that base born Issue of her Eyes But know fond Girl I 'll drein the muddy Stream Art Yes when you 've broke that Heart from whence it flows Oh my loved Lord. To Altomar Alb. Their very Looks are hatching Treasons Take them away and part the brooding Monsters Alt. Oh hold Gods have those dying drowning Eyes No Power One Look from those fair Lights Is worth ten thousand Gaylands Souls Alb. Dull Slaves Art Lord of my Life Exit forced out Alt. My Saint my Heaven Farewel Exeunt all but Altomar and Morat and two more Attendants What 's Conquest Fame and all the flattering Hopes Of towring Love in their Meridian Light Poor airy Bubbles which the Breath of Power Bursts with a Blast and they are seen no more Ye bright Dispensers of our Humane Fate Bring me but back to those clear Streams of Bliss Which I enjoy'd but one half hour ago And I 'd not change my State of Happiness For all that Vanity your Sun looks round And all those worlds your great first Mover rowls Mor. My Lord I hope you 'll pardon that harsh Office Which I with horror bear Believe me Sir My very Soul deplores your rigid Fate Alt. I thank thee kind Morat but be not troubled Alas I 'm fallen and lost ordain'd for Ruine A miserable thing not worth thy Pity 'T is true Once my blest Hopes stood fair the Candidates Of Glory but alas those Guardian Angels That then smiled on me bore me on their Wings And nurs'd me as the Child and Heir of Fortune Now see my sinking State and like false Friends desert me Mor. Your Fate draws Tears even from a Souldiers Eyes Alt. And can Man pity me when Heaven forsakes me For me no matter if my impurer Blood Were set afloat my drossy worthless Ashes Trod by the Tyrants meanest Slaves to Dirt But oh that Tyrant strikes at Artemira His Savage Fury breaks her tender Heart Take heed ye cruel Powers her Fate ye Gods prevent Or all your Heaven too late will the dire deed repent At her black Doom I shall not sigh alone Your shaking World at her last Pangs will groan The waning Lamps of your pale trembling Skies At her closed Lights will shut their aking Eyes By Heav'ns not your own God-heads shall go free You too shall all my Fellow-mourners be And hang your sad and drooping Heads like me Exeunt ACT II. SCENE II. The Scene a Room of State Meroin andIshmael Disney Mer. THE Cause of all her Pride and Scorn is plain By all the Witchcrafts of the Sex 't is plain 'T is Altomar's the Man No wonder she has Been Deaf to all my Prayers all her warm Gales Were th' happy Altomars whilst nothing but Her Winter Stormy Northern Blasts were mine Ish Wer 't my Cause my Lord I would nor curse nor fret my Spleen in vain Return her Scorn with Scorn Beautie 's a Flower that whilst 't is kind is fragrant But when Disdain has canker'd all its Sweets 'T is a rank weed Mer. A rank one 't is indeed And if that poysonous weed the Bane of all My Peace must root in my curst Rival's Arms Lend