Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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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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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
the poysonous Darts Of Cruel Beauty Hyst O the Happy time Thy Rage soft Tyranous Love shall then have End When Cyrus kindles once again the Heat That first inspir'd his Noble Breast with Glory Cyax. I hear sudden noise of Clashing Swords Noise of Fighting within Look out Hystaspes go and see the matter As Histaspes is going off enter in haste Artabasus with his Sword Drawn Arta. Where 's Cyrus where 's the King Great Cyaxares Pity the bravest Valour in the World Haste Sir and save the Gallant Abradatas With great and most unequal odds opprest Haste for the sakes of all your bravest Men â—or at so dear a Rate he sells his Life That with 's own Hand already he has slain Strange Numbers of the stoutest Ranks whose Valour Pusht 'em first on to meet his daring Blows Cyax. What madness forc'd him thus to his Destruction Arta. His desperate Love led him so boldly on For with a Troop compos'd of all his best And stoutest Men he straight broke through our Camp Who stood more Wondring at their madness than Afraid And though of all his Valiant Followers Scarce ten remain alive besides himself Yet still he ventures on and calls for Cyrus But hark they this way come Cyax. Follow Hystaspes As Cyaxares and the rest are going off Enters Abradatas fighting against a great many Cyaxares and the rest joyn against him and his followers Brave Abradatas yield whilst you are safe Abra. Yield By the Gods that hated Breath I scorn The Spirits of my murder'd Friends around me Still guard me from the Thoughts of such a Baseness Do'st think I undertook so brave a Deed With the least thought of Living or of Yielding No Fight I will till ev'ry Sinew fail me And when my Arms can lift a Sword no longer I 'll stretch 'em forth to all your Cymeters Now to be parted from my Bleeding Body Before I 'll suffer 'em to be tamely bound Come all Quick make an End of me Ye Gods Wou'd I had Cyrus now but in thy Place Thus wou'd I do thus use my hated Rival Hyst Kill kill the raging Prince if he 'l be still Thus Obstinate Cyax. I charge you ev'ry Man To save him and with speed take him alive They Fight Cyaxares in the Skirmish is mortally Wounded Abradatas is taken Prisoner and Disarm'd Abra. Base Villains Choak'd I am with Multitudes O that I want the Fierceness of a Lyon To chace this Herd of Slaves and Cowards from me Hyst What ail you Sir O Cursed sight you Bleed Cyax. I fear I 've bin too rash And feel I 'm wounded in my Mortal'st part Re-enter to them Cyrus in haste Hyst The Gods forbid O Sir retirâ—â— and view not This sad Mischance Cyr. Ha! Craes. Hystaspes how came this to pass Cyr. Blast me you Vitious Planets of my Birth Fall on me all the wrath of Heav'n at once Can this be true what here my Eyes behold My Unkle wounded 'T is not much I hope Cyax. Yes 't is to Death and by my fleeting Soul I am not sorry for 't But why grieve you I now shall tug the Reins of Rule no more And you shall drive the Chariot of the World Alone My life that stood so long i' th' way Dividing all the while Ambition with thee Shall share with thee and of thy Hopes no more Cyr. Fetch my Physitians Run for Artists straight A Kingdom shall be his that Cures his Hurt Cyax. Stir not I charge you 'T is beyond all Art To save my Life I've but a Moment's Breath To speak yet whilst that lasts it 's thine my Cyrus And likewise all that 's mine I give to thee Commit my only Daughter to thy Care She 's young and may in time grow up thy Wife Cyr. Curst Abradatas Curst-be all the Fates That led thee thus to Triumph still upon me First in my Love and now in Cyaxares But by the Gods By my wrong'd Self I Swear I will be tame no longer but will sweep thee Like a fierce Whirlwind from the Face of Cyrus Wert thou the Mynion of the spiteful Stars Yes though ten Thousand Cupids on their Knees And Venus weeping Eyes shou'd beg to save thee Abra. I kill'd him bravely by the Gods I did Kill'd him as I wou'd thee hadst thou bin there Cyr. Away with him to speedy Death I charge you Cyax. Hold Cyrus hold the Gallant Prince says true Let me not be the cause of his hard Fate It was my Fortune and the Chance of War Cyr. Torture me not with the Request I vow It is the only thing I cannot grant you Cyax. You must O my Dear Cyrus I have bin To blame my Envy of thy gallant Deeds Brought me to meet the Death I have deserv'd Had I but pleas'd my self to hear thee prosper And Treasur'd thy Exploits within my Breast As a kind Unkle shou'd have done to Cyrus O then I had bin happier Persia and Media now shall be but one Far greater than Astyages thou art The first sole Monarch of the Medes and Persians Cyrus farewel Kiss me and then I go dyes Cyr. He 's fled the kindest dearest bravest Man That ever blest the World is gone Dry up Your Tears and hide your Sorrows in your Breasts 'T is poor and mean to spend our griefs like Women Ten Thousand Deaths are all too little for thee To Abrad. No thou shalt live and grow in study'd Torments I 'll carry thee where-e're I go to be The sport of my Revenge and ev'ry Day Thou shalt be brought i' th' midst of all thy Pains To hear thee houl before me Go with him To Tortures Chains Imprisonment Away Enter to them Running and Weeping Panthea attended as Abradatas is carrying off Panth. Hold whither is my Abradatas going Brave Cyrus stay real your dread Commands Ah! where d' ye hurry my dear Prince so fast To the Guards Still Abradatas will you be thus rash Adventuring through a Thousand threatning Deaths To come to this accursed Place to meet Your certain Ruin Cruel as you are More Cruel to your self and me than Cyrus far Cyr. Still does she come to brave my little Power And chain my weak Resolves She knows her strength By all the Gods she does and dares me to 't Keep 'em asunder part 'em whilst I 'm in The mind Perhaps anon I may forget I bid you Do and part 'em now for ever Abra. You urge in vain the Tyrant must b'obey'd Farewel our Loves shall shine amongst the Stars And make Immortal Lights that never shall Be quench'd There we will Rule and guide the Planets Causing 'em ev'ry one to shed their worst And mortal'st Venom on his Cursed Head Panth. Ah no you wrong the brave and God-like Cyrus He is more mild than tender Mothers are The Spring is not so sweet that flows from Winter As are the Passions of that Brave rough Man Look thou Immortal great on Earth as Iove Kneels Can you behold me kneel and