cannot be a Wonder on the Earth So Great as Cyrus is If thou art he Or is 't some God or Mars himself I see For sure these Eyes were never bless'd before With such a sight What 's Balthazar and all The Princes of the Globe compar'd to him â— Now I no more admire his mighty Fortune That Godlike Mein and Presence is enough T' enslave great Kings and awe the barb'rous World I need not ask who is the famous Cyrus Something which makes great Souls so near ally'd Tells me you are that excellent brave Man Cyr. I am that most unworthy Cyrus What wou'd the Great th' most famous in the World The Scythian Queen Thom. Heaâ— me Divinest King Curse me you Powers and languish all my Fame Now I behold the gallant Cyrus Person If e'er injustly I become your Foe Nay I 'll forget the Murder of my Son And say his Death was my misfortune only You have a Virgin that 's Panthea call'd The Mourning longing Wife of this young Prince Whom e're the Priest had said his binding Pray'r The Gods to shew the most incertain State Of human things snatch'd from his Nuptial Arms And bore her from him by a Storm of Fate Ev'n in a time when they did think to join Fast as their Wishes She your Prisoner is All Places save and priviledge the Fair Beauty is even held in War most sacred And Cyrus cannot stoop to do a thing That is not brave Cyr. Go on bright Queen Thomy Long hearing of thy vast and proud Successe O'er all Mankind In pity of the World I drew a force of Forty Thousand Men From my own yet unconquer'd Land to aid Thy â— Enemies this Army we 'll withdraw And with brave Cyrus make immortal League If he 'll restore the sad Panthea to us Cyr. Now blest be all those Deities that saw The solemn Rites performing 'gainst their Wills And would not let the Hymeneal Torch Be light Ask you me whom piteous Heaven Sent by a Miracle to my Protection Demand my Crowns my everlasting Fame My shining Trophies and my Victories For they are not so dear nor half so sacred Nor look so bright in all the World's esteem Abra. O I am ruin'd Hell is in my Bosom Panthea's lost undone inconstant ha She loves him too perhaps O thought-like Death Curse on this feeble Arm that cou'd nor guard her Nor had the Courage to assault my Breast Cyax. It is apparent that the Gods were all Displeas'd and meant those Nuptials shou'd not be When at the very Altar like a Dove From the fierce Vultures Claws they rescu'd her Abra. O King of an Immortal Fame Dread Cyrus thou art Great above the World There is no thought a Woman here can fix Thy Soul that soars and ranges like the Sun Behold me from thy Power like awful Iove And O! restore me to my Heav'n of Love Pity my Youth and give Pantheâ— to me O give her to my Soul and I will add To the bright Queens Ten Thousand Valiant Archers And vow my self thy true Confederate Think not 't is Fear that makes me stoop so low To beg of Thee but mighty Love that must Be still obey'd else I cou'd meet thee daring Atâ—th ' Head of all thy Army shouting loud To animate the Courage of their Leader And O Panthea were Panthea but The Victor's Prize the blessed Hopes shou'd aid me To kill this great Disturber of the World Thom. Spoke like thy self my 〈…〉 Thou hast a Scythian's Courage in thy Breast Intreat no more for Cyrus dare not hold her The Gods and Thomyris have decreed To fetch Panthea back in Triumph from him To morrow I will meet thee in the Front Of Battel where it shall be then recorded To thy eternal Shame and Infamy A Woman conquer'd thee Cyr. Proud Queen retreat least we profane the Truce The nicest Law of Arms can ne'er indure Such daring Provocations Enter Panthea attended Panth. My Abradatas Soul of my Love and Lord of my Desires Am I so blest to see thee once again To embrace thee once before I die Save me from Fears from Prison and from Harms And lock me safe within these tender Arms. Abra. O my Panthea Let me hold thee fast Hoard all my numberless and breathless Kisses On thy soft Cheeks at once For something tells me This Pleasure is too great and rich to last O stir not from me Panth. No we 'll never part Our Loves shall here incorp'rate us like Air Not Swords nor Death shall any way divide us Now 't is beyond the Power of Jealousie Or Iove himself this Gordion to untie Nay Cyrus is too Brave too Good to see Such faithful Lovers languish any longer Cyr. O I am struck A thousand Stings dart all At once their pointed Venom in my Eyes And now I feel 'em in my Breast â—ell me What is 't besides the mortal stroke of Love That pains your Cyrâ—s thus See how they grasp 'T is that 't is that assist me 〈◊〉 Say quickly Friends what shall be done to part 'em Speak will you see me rack'd My Soul 's between Each close Embrace And will not cannot bear it any longer Prince from this fatal Extasie retire This sight will mortal be to one of us Abra. Thou shalt not stirr I will not move without her But leave Ten thousand Limbs if I 'd so many Hack'd off and hew'd from this unhappy Body But I will bear her hence O my Panthea Oh Mother let me lose this hated Life 〈◊〉 let me dye before I part with her Panth. Think not of Death my Abradatas loe The Gallant Monarch melts and says it too Our Lives shall be immortal as our Loves Thom. Cyrus has reach'd the utmost brink of Greatness The Gods no longer will dispute thy Fate Since they have punish'd thee with lawless Love A cursed Charm that slumbers all thy Virtues That thou shalt never more awake to Glory Retire my Son from Beauty run to day And by the Gods Panthea shall be thine To morrow when we only shall encounter With the starv'd Genius weary Fame of Cyrus My Women shall be foremost in the Fight And with their naked Breasts and Arms display'd Shall lead this once brave Man a Captive-Slave This empty Form of his departed Greatness Panth. O Royal Mother Why d' you mistake You wrong the God-like Cyrus O give him gentle Words mild as the Sound Of Pray'rs and Sighs in Sacrifices us'd Speak t' him approach him as indeed you ought As Conqu'rour of the World and you shall see No God can be so lavish nor so kind Abra. My dear Panthea why d' you thus proceed Unless you wish to make me worse than Woman Hold while I 've Resolution in my Breast And all thy Heav'n of Charms will let me go By those thy self I swear the greatest Oath That I can take to morrow I will bring Thy Abradatas to thee live or dead Panth. No say not so Thus kneel with thy Panthea My Hand
to repeat the Summ of all That which methinks shou'd strike the Hearers dead When my full Joys had ripen'd for Enjoyment And I wrap'd up in harmless Extasie To such a height I saw no ground below And thought the Glass of that blest Hour wou'd ne'er Be run I mean Gods give me leave to say it As my dear Mother in the Temple gave me A happy Bride in shew to Abradatus The Brave and most Heroick King of Susa Scarce had the Priests the Holy Rites perform'd When straight the Trumpets call'd and Battel join'd Cyrus approaching with a fatal Charge On Craesus and the Forces of our Army Then was my Love snatch'd from my Virgin Arms To his Command and I ran breathless on the Walls To see my Abradatus Fight and Conquer But soon methought I saw him round inclos'd With Enemies which sight to snatch'd my Senses That on a sudden follow'd by my Women I found me in our Camp not knowing how I went nor waking from that wretched Slumber Till I was brought a Prisoner to Hystaspes Cyax. Ah sweet Panthea if thy Sorrows move so What canst thou do dispersing Smiles around thee But oh the thoughts I 'll tear 'em from my Breast Pull out the Seeds just rooting in my Heart And die rather than live with the disgrace Down down thou fair infectious Charm of Beauty Down to thy first Abyss from whence thou camest Where Light lay hid when all things were a Chaos Thou cheat of Sence and blinder of all Eyes Cyrus is boasting now of his design That laid these Nets of Beauty in my march To stop my fair and quick return to Glory Away thou sweet destroyer of my Fame Hystaspes haste with thy fair Charmer hence Go tell thy Master all that thou hast seen Of Cyaxares tell him that Panthe◠Shou'd be esteem'd as Heav'n and Heav'nly Joys Not to be tasted by a Man and live Therefore I give her to the Stars from whence She came Bid Cyrus do the like Begone Quickly least I shou'd wish to look again Pan. Ten thousand Glories crown your Head for this May this brave Action make your Name and Bliss Renown'd on Earth as is the God of War And when in Heav'n a bright shining Star Hyst I am amaz'd Can this be real Sir I dare not tell the King of your refusal Cyax. Do it I charge thee and inform him too That Cyaxares comes to meet him straight With Courage awful as Astyages When Cyrus but a pratling Boy admir'd him Look'd from the Ground ador'd his Majesty And fear'd him like a God Go from my Eyes Remove those gay bright Syrens that forerun A Storm Hyst Come Madam Panth. To kind Death I hope Brave Cyaxares Cyax. O speak no more Thou conqu'ring Beauty go There lies your Path We must take several ways If you look back my ling'ring 〈◊〉 stays Exeunt severally Exeunt Omnes Finis Actus Primi Actus Secundus Scaena Prima Cyrus discovered upon his Throne in Triumph amongst his Captains and Soldiers Craesus bound ready for Execution Cyr. ENough These splendid Vanities I loath Sounds of Triumphs The boast of Fools and Pageanty of Cowards It sits too heavy on your Cyrus Arms O let me rise and let 'em loose my Soldiers To throw about your Necks and thus embrace My Valiant Friends and all my brave Confed'rates By whose sole Aid Gods be my Witnesses I own it with a Pride I have restor'd The World to its dear antient Liberty Freed Captiv'd Nations from their Tyrant's Yoaks And plac'd 'em on the Necks of barb'rous Kings Trod down the Walls of fam'd Semiramis That founded first this Asian Monarchy Made my Commands in one quick Moment spread Like Thunder terrible through all the City But let 's no more afflict this Monarch's Spirit But grant him that which ev'ry gallant Soul In vast distress requires a speedy Death Away with him and having plac'd him on The Fuel let it blaze a just Reward For him that has so long set all the World In Flames Quick take him hence As they are carrying off Craesus to Execution Cyrus calls him back Craes. O Solon Solon Solon Cyr. Stay bring him back say What does Craesus mean I did expect thou shouldst have ask'd thy Life And thou in scorn of me call'st loud for Solon Can Solon save thee from the Wrath of Cyrus Craes. No 't is too late but that which made me call On Solon was to my remembrance came The Sentence of that Wise and Learned Teacher Which I till now contemn'd 'T was in the midst Of all my Glories Children Friends and Riches Thinking my self no God cou'd be more happy I sent for Solon to resolve this Question Tell me said I who is the happiest Man On Earth but Solon answer'd there was none None cou'd be truly happy whilst he liv'd I ask'd him then who 't was he thought was happiest Expecting that he shou'd have said 't was Craesus But he reply'd the happiest Man he thought Was Tellus once a Citizen of Athens A Man that had no mean nor mighty Fortune His Wife not fair nor homely but belov'd And virtuous and his Children all obedient Who like the first Man liv'd in Paradice And never press'd the Strangers luscious Fruits Nor drank but what his own full Vines did yield Fed on the Flesh of his own teeming Flocks And wore no Cloaths but what their Backs afforded In his own Pale grew all his Sustenance And in his Bosom all the World 's content Cyr. How brook you then your fall'n and lost Estate Methinks with brave Contempt you bear your Chains And Craesus looks as if he spurn'd his Fate Craes. So much my Mind does soar above my Fortune That I behold with greater scorn these Bonds Than thou born up with the World's flattering Wings Look'st down on me that am thy Slave Yet in Despite of all thou canst I 'm Craesus still Cyr. 'T is bravely said and spoken like a King I have been told that in thy spring of Glory Thou didst consult the Delphick Oracle And kneel'd before the God days numberless Made rich Apollo's Shrines with such vast Presents As did excel what the Earth's Bowels hold Might make a Ransom wou'd restore the World Were 't threatn'd to be ruin'd by the Gods Craes. All this nay more the God did heap upon me My Children Friends and Kingdoms so increas'd That Europe cou'd not bound my spreading Empire Nor Asian Cities number out my Wealth Cyr. The God was grateful to thee for a while But by what wonderful neglect of thine Hast thou since lost the Merit of his Bounty Craes. I 'll tell thee all with a prodigious Patience Having at length tir'd out th' relenting God With my unwear'd steps ne'er ceasing Pray'rs This Answer I receiv'd from the bright Altar Craesus no more Let Craesus know himself And he to his Life's end shall happy be These Words so much exalted my frail Mind That then methought I reign'd not amongst Men But rul'd
Craes. But the Brave Scythian Queen retreating fightsâ— And whilst the Homotyms are eager in Pursuit as a Stout Lyon that is hunted Turns eager on the nearest of his Foes And tears 'em piece meal then retreats again So in their flight the Scythians send huge showers Of Mortal Arrows on the Conquerours Faces Cyr. My self will haste with the Cadusian Archers And gaul their backs with much more dreadful Flights Craes. Mingle not Sir in the unruly Chace We beg you wou'd retire into the Camp Your Wounds and Labour ask some quick relief Cyr. Fly then Hystaspes to the Homotyms Bid 'em their vain and eager Chace give o're In the mean time you valiant Craesus may Wheel round about 'em with your Lydian Horse And beat 'em in their Front Craes. It shall be done Expect my Death or the brave Queen a Prisoner Cyr. Attend me but at Distance for a Moment Exeunt Crâ—sus and Hystaspes What is it to rule the World To hold the wealth and sumpter of the Earth And find it all but Dreams of Happiness As I do Going off Lausaria's Ghost rises to â—im What object does my flattering Eyes present The Lydian Princess ha it is t is she Or else some Star the darling of the Sky Dropt from the Gods and Pattern'd in her Likeness But ha if this shoud prove a Dream Thou look'st quite thro' me speak if thou art Lausaria Ghost O Cyrus I am come from far to blame thee To chide my Love and stand 'twixt him and Ruin Cyr. Thou art alive then ha and thou canst talk too O sacred joy Who told me thou wert dead Thou look'st thin pale and wan Give me thy cold fair hand in mine and let me lead thee From the cold Mansion of the Grave To a warm â—oom in Cyrus Breast for ever Where is thy hand Ha! Thou art fled and hid As in a 〈◊〉 thou dazelest every Sense And mak'sâ—â—hy Cyrus giddy to behold thee Ghost Ah! Cyrus Thou may'st as well grasp Water or fleet Air As think of touching my Immortal Shadow I am the wandering Spirit of Lausaria That still dotes on thee in her Solitude So well that when thou think'st but of Panthea By secret Charms thou call'st me from my quiet And givest my Soul no rest below nor Peace above Cyr. A cold and sudden damp sits on me round Thy Eyes run pointed with thy wrongs and shoot Quite through my Heart as thy keen Spirit with horrour Pierces the ground and glances through the Air Thou strikest a terrour trembling in my Blood And I with torture find thou art a thing Immortal Speak awful Shade what brings thee from thy Rest Ghost When I had pass'd the Lake that leads to Bliss Bliss so unjustly term'd by Mortals here To those dull Shades Elizium fondly call'd Where the sad Scene gives mournful Lovers Souls A Melancholly Prospect of Delight I heard the Powers of Hell Call for the Fates to cut thy thread before 'em What shall be done said they with this Great Man This Barbarous Hunter of the World and Love Let us ordain that by a Woman's Hand His blood be in a fatal moment spilt So to Revenge the Sex's wrongs at once Haste from the Field Beware th' inrag'd Thomyris Come follow me I 'll shew thee such a Sight Shall Cure thy Breast of all Love's Wounds for ever Hold stay and take my Ghost along with thee Ghost O Live I charge you Live happy as a God on Earth live ever Each drop of Blood you drain from that brave Breast You double all the Pangs upon my Soul O think that on your Joys depend my Bliss Your Torment is my Hell your Happiness My blest Elisium Follow me I Charm you By all the pity once you pay'd my Love By all the Love you owe my Memory Cyr. Lead then the way thou brightest Angel Guide Conduct me quickly to thy blest Abode Ghost The Minute 's come This way thou gallant Cyrus Cyr. I follow thee and if my Body proves too heavy I 'll throw it off and mount all Soul to reach thee Scene Draws and discovers Panthea with her Women weeping o're the mangled Body of Abradatas whose Limbs she had seemingly fix'd to his Body a Dagger in her hand Panth. I charge you live Live to excuse my Fault And sooth the sorrows of the sad Thomyris The Story of our Death 's told from your Mouths May from her tender Eyes draw floods of Tears But the sad Object would have kill'd her quite Likewise relate the dismal Scene to Cyrus Tell it with all the pity that in grief Can be express'd Be sure t' adorn our Ends As sumptuously with Sorrow as you can But oh you need not Tell 'em as they were And your sad tun'd Description will surpass All Fiction Painting or dumb shew of Horrour That ever Ears yet heard or Eyes beheld Wom. O cast that Weapon from you Panth. Vex me not What can't I be obey'd in Death Now now My dearest Partner of my Soul I come Look back as thou art in the Milky Road to Bliss And take thy lov'd Panthea with thee Wom. Still you advance that dreadful Weapon Panth. No more These Hands and Feet which the sharp Scythes Mow'd from thy lovely Body I have try'd A thousand times to joyn 'em with my Kisses But 't is in vain O you Immortal Powers Cannot these Lips so Deify'd restore One hour of Life See what Idolaters You are false Men You Lying Prophets say A Kiss a Sigh a Tear from those you Love Can fetch you from the Grave to Life again And make a God of the least Doting Swain But I have groan'd ten thousand Sighs and Wishes And bath'd his Body all all o're in Tears Yet find 'em all too little one small drop Of Rain is worth an Ocean of these Pearls That gives the sweets that from the Roses flow And makes the Violets and the Lillies grow Yet I cannot restore one Finger back To Life unless my heart 's warm blood can do it Panthea Stabs her self and just as she gave the Wound Cyrus Enters led in by the Ghost the Ghost vanisheth Cyr. Ah! cruel spiteful yet thou lovely Spirit Coud'st thou not bring me one half moment sooner Give me this Dagger and I 'll plunge it in my Breast Wipe off the stain of thy most precious Blood And reak it in my own revenge thy wrongs And please Lausaria's Ghost whose shadow haunts me Panth. This Weapon I 'll not part with This Glorious Relique here that sets me free Thus I will hold it brandish'd up on high And die with the lov'd Passport in my Hand Live happy Cyrus may these ills forewarn thee To shun the fatal Deed of crossing Love Love that will ne'er be stop'd but have its Course Or overflow to drowning with the least resistance Cyr. O forgive me blest Panthea And the same time thou leav'st thy lovely Body Forgive my passion too and carry with thee My Pardon to be Seal'd by all the Gods