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A33864 A collection of select discourses out of the most eminent wits of France and Italy Sarasin, Jean-François, 1614-1654. Conspiration de Walstein. English.; Voiture, Monsieur de (Vincent), 1597-1648. Histoire d'Alcidalis et de Zelide. English.; Mascardi, Agostino, 1591-1640. Congiura del conte Gio. Luigi de Fiéschi. English.; Pellisson-Fontanier, Paul, 1624-1693. Discours sur les oeuvres de M. Sarasin. English. 1678 (1678) Wing C5191; ESTC R13475 160,025 256

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Conquerour to be re-instated in your Throne would you accept from his hand that which before you ow'd only to the bounty of Heaven and so become twice a slave to your Enemies force and to his courtesie Would you re-ascend to fall again from that height whence you have already faln What can you enjoy which you have not enjoy'd Can the wit of Fortune or Nature present you any new happiness Would it not pose your most exquisite desires to fancy more Hath not the Sea produc'd new Treasures not only for your ornament but for your luxury Is not Nature weary in distilling strange pleasures for you What kind of honour is there that hath not paid Tribute to your Scepter and are you not cloy'd How many have kill'd themselves being wearied in a tedious repetition of the same happiness He hath liv'd enough that hath perfectly enjoy'd What should we do when we can meet nothing new but Mischiefs You live not now to live but because you have not courage to die And suppose a return of your first good Fortune shall your Antony return again But I flatter you O Queen Nor Antony nor Kingdom or ought of your first estate remains for you only rests those miseries which are not to be allay'd with thoughts of not deserving them for who would not accompany or will not follow Antony merits worse Perhaps you relie on the kind offers of Augustus But reflect upon the vast Treasures you have hid and consider that those feed with hopes who desire possession Perhaps his courteous Visit in your sickness comforts you but the veyl with which he would have shadow'd his Pride was too transparent he was content you should fall at his feet with the tremblings of a sick as well as of an unfortunate person he suffer'd you to imbrace his knees with those hands whose beck once commanded the same petitionary posture in a Kingdom He was slow to raise you up and under a feign'd sweetness cloaking an imperious gravity with scant speech he bid you to hope well But he that would have you hope for what is in his power to give would obtain somewhat himself but means not you should ever obtain what he bid you hope for Consider what cunning that man is master of that could resist your powerful charms and since you could not draw him into the snares of your beauty take heed you fall not into those of his ambition Consider that life cannot be good for you since your Enemy desires it and he bids you live that gives you nothing but hope and could give you what he would You are too fair a Spoil for a Triumph Nor can Augustus better repair his loss seeing Antony hath scap'd his hands by death than by leading you in triumph who have triumphed over Antony Prepare then to grace the Tiber with a new spectacle To shew your selt not as once your Antony design'd to present you but in Servile habit a slave amidst a throng of Slaves your Hair dishevel'd perhaps shav'd Bare-foot going before or following the Chariot of your proud Lord pointed at by Children mock'd by the Licentious Souldier thus scost at by the Roman Matrons There goes the great Queen not of Egypt but of Whores There 's the mighty Amazon who overthrew Emperours upon a Feather-bed See how with down cast eye she is come to teach our Virgins modesty And is all this supportable Have you the heart to expose your self to the outrages of the wrong'd Octavia No breast more true to hatred than a Womans no Woman more cruel than a Rival How often hath she preserr'd her Vows to Heaven that she might with her own hands tear out those eyes of yours whose wounding influence murther'd affection in the heart of her Husband How often hath she covenanted with the gods at the price of her own life to rip up that bosom which hath so long usurp'd possession of her Antony And will she not now use her good Fortune will not her fond Brother Augustus bestow you upon her that she might share in his Victory Unhappy Queen methinks I see those base Services she designs you Those taunts with which she will wound your Soul upbraiding you with dissolv'd Pearl when she appoints you a draught of Wormwood commanding you to put her into that dress which catch'd the heart of Antony In fine I see and with horrour consider the Scorns the Abuses with which a great a provok'd Lady and a Mistress will take revenge of past wrongs Call to mind then what becomes you as a Queen Behold the magnanimous Dido opening her bosom with a generous blow She might by living have reveng'd her self on him that betray'd her you in not dying betray him that lov'd you She remain'd a Queen you have lost your Crown Or if you would take a lesson of freedom out of that Rome whither you are a destin'd Slave consider Lucrece and see if the loss of a Kingdom requires as much as the loss of an opinion If that publick shame which attends you weighs with her secret disgrace But why do I muster Examples when you have before you that of your dead Antony If his memory be not enough to steel you with resolution what Argument is sufficient If this be not enough unhappy Antony thou art deceiv'd Thou didst never believe that the Lady thou esteem'dst worthy to receive Kingdoms in gift from thee whom to follow when she fled thou thought'st no less glory than to pursue a flying Enemy in whose bosom to recover thy self seem'd a sufficient recompence for the loss of half the World thou never thought'st I say that she had a heart capable of Servitude Thou hast not scap'd by death but art still subjected to thy proud Rival who triumphs over thee in Cleopatra See a noble testimony of a grateful heart Cleopatra considers not which is best to live or to die but whether in Chains by the violences of the inrag'd Octavia or whether she should now snatch an Antidote from Death against the malice of her Fortune and unite her self for ever to thy blessed Shade Call to mind your Antony when stain'd with the blood of those Veins his own bold hand had open'd when he threw himself into your imbraces and seem'd to live no other life than what you breath'd into him by your last kisses when with an undaunted courage he fronted his Fate and taught you those steps which the unfortunately Magnanimous ought to tread You then fill'd his breast with mighty hopes imprecated the worst of Roman Slavery if you did not follow him whilst he imbrac'd you as if he had hugg'd Victory in his arms and with an inviting smile bid you hasten alter him and expir'd And will you deceive the honour'd Ashes of that mighty Hero which from their Urne seem thus to summon you There advances but a few minutes O Cleopatra you may die when you will but you cannot die free when you will If you kill your self now you do it to bestow your self on me if afterwards 't is to steal your self from others Give that life up to your Love which shortly will be usurp'd by your impatience But if thou wilt live withal remember when thou shalt be in Rome that the Body of thy Antony is in Egypt Now what remains but that I conjure you by these private walks the Secretaries of both your Fortunes where you have liv'd free and may die free by your Houshould gods and more by the genius of Antony your Sovereign Jove which without doubt hovers in the Air about us that you will not by your weakness make Egypt blush where you have been Queen and may by your Courage be number'd amongst her Deities FINIS The Sublime Character Out of Tasso Lib. 4. THe dreary Trumpet blew a dreadful blast And rumbled through the Lands and Kingdoms under Through Wastness wide it roar'd and hollows vast And fill'd the Deep with horrour fear and wonder Not half so dreadful noise the Tempests cast That fall from Skies with storms of Hail and Thunder Nor half so loud the whistling Winds do sing Broke from the Earthen prisons of their King The Temperate Lib. 14. SO in the Twilight doth sometimes appear A Nymph a Goddess or a Fairy Queen And though no Syrene but a Sprite this were Yet by her Beauty see'md it she had been One of those Sisters false which haunted near The Tyrrhene shores and kept those Waters sheen Like theirs her Face her Voice was and her sound And thus she sung and pleas'd both Skies and Ground Ye Happy Youths whom April fresh and May Attire in flow'ring green of Lusty age For glory Vain and Vertues idle ray Do not your tender Limbs to toyl ingage The Humble Lib. 7. MY Son quoth he this poor estate of ours Is ever safe from storm of Warlike broyl This Wilderness doth us in safety keep No thundring Drum no Trumpet breaks our sleep Haply just Heavens defence and Shield of Right Doth love the innocence of simple Swains The Thunderbolts on highest Mountains light Seldom or never strike the lower Plains So Kings have cause to fear Bellona's might Not they whose sweat and toyl their dinner gains Nor ever greedy Souldier was intic'd By Poverty neglected and despis'd Errata Page 2. line 27. read Pericles p. 3. l. 34. attack p. 12. l. 20. Chamaleon p. 17. l 1. that p. 19. l. 2. toss p. 23. l. 6. Titian p. 29. l. 7. Chapebain p. 58. l. 14. Abydos p. 101. l. 29. Stralsound p. 130. l. 9. Writers who