Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A33146
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Xerxes, a tragedy as it is acted at the new theatre in Little Lincoln's-Inn Fields / written by C. Cibber ...
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Cibber, Colley, 1671-1757.
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1699
(1699)
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Wing C4285; ESTC R18221
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38,508
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58
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forth Imagine now the eager Arms of Victory Extending to embrace us sound as if The Glorious Scene were here in real Action Sound and wake the Ghost of this departed Hero Art O Glorious Harmony They Sound a Charge Aran. O Powerful Charm Mar. By Arms it sets my glowing Veins on fire I burn my Spirits rave with fury for the War Away to Horse to Arms why stand you Sir unmov'd As if a low born Fear had fix'd you here Inanimate Can you be deaf when great Revenge and Honour call Are there such Charms in a detested Sloth and Ease God's where have you Tameness lest to stand thus long Suspected not to dare Sound a fresh Allarm And let the Martial Din ungrave the Dead To rouze him Xer. On Forfeit of your Lives forbear your Insolence Audacious Traitor thus to Brand My Hallow'd Pleasures with the Name Of Slothful Ease and Fear I 'll have thee think Unknowing Slave That nothing in it self Is Good or Ill but as it pleases me Mar. I say no! There will be shame in Cowardice Tho' Xerxes were a Soldier Xer. Ha! Aran. Forbear my Lord consider 't is your King that hears you Mar. I ha' no King 't is Merit not a Crown That makes a King when Pride and Sloth debase The Soul of Majesty The Crown 's a Toy No more in Worth than what it weighs in Gold I scorn a King whose Robes can only speak him Royal. Xer. Witness ye Gods How loth I am to wake And crush this Slave who like a Crawling Insect dares Disturb the sleeping Lyon Mar. A Lyon By Heav'n I 've seen a Hare a Womans Courage Dare beyond thee the Martial Artemisia Whose Aiding Arm in Fight supported and disgrac'd thee The Warlike Woman shew'd a Manly Rage The Courtly King a Womans Trembling Fear Ever wer't thou last in Battle formost In the Flight humble in Danger and when Thy Danger 's past Insulting Xer. Seize the Traitor hence and bear him to a Dungeon There let the surly Lyon Growle and Champ His Galling Chains in vain I 'll try him in the Den Hard Fare perhaps Darkness and Gives may tame him Mar. A Dungeon Now by the Power of Arms thou 'st found The only place an honest Man can bear in Persia Thou poor Inverted King whose Favour is Disgrace Whose Frowns are Honour now Thou canst not raise My Glory more than thus proclaiming to the World Thou hatest me But when This Lyon grumbles or'e his Chains alone Beware Thou send no Persian Fools to gaze at me Lest in my round of thought I should believe 'em Greeks That keep me there and bounding from my Couch Grasping with Fury the mistaken Prey With Flaming Eyes should stare their Souls away Exit Xer. To the Dungeon hence and load him down with Massy Fetters By Heav'n I 'll find a way to take An undisturb'd Repose I 'll have my Streams Of Christial Pleasure clear'd of all these Martial Weeds I 'll tear 'em by the Roots and throw 'em useless by Art My Lord Hower'e your Soldiers heat Xer. I 'll have no more to do with saucy War Were now Ten Thousand times the Millions I ha' lost in Arms Intreating Begging as for life One animating Word to bid 'em move I 'd not unsheath my Sword to be Enthron'd with Jove Exit Art Why why ye Pow'rs has such a tainted Soul The Care of th' Empire Or if the Gods have stampt Divinity on Kings fixing them far above The Reach of Common Men why then have we The Eyes of Reason to Inspect their Faults Why are we Born with Souls to loath Dishonour And yet by Honour bound to bear it Aran. How To bear it No! That Loyalty's Dishonorable That bids me bear Dishonour When Subjects Are no more the Care of Kings we then Have only left the Laws of Nature to Protect us And Nature tyes us all to Self Defence We must in time resent the Blows we 've taken Mardonius's Freedom must be sought and suddenly The Current of our Treasure ebbs too fast It must be stopt by Right and Priviledge The late Expences of our Gaudy Shame Exceeds th' Account of Necessary War And shall we sleep when from our Hands by Force The Gripe of Tyranny has wrung our Fortunes More I cou'd say If I believ'd that Words cou'd win you to An Honourable Action Art Aranthes I was never slow to such a Call Nor needs the Cause a Tongue But yet the Undertaking's difficult And will require our Friends best Counsel To Night at my own House I 'll Summon 'em There speak our Griefs at large And may the Blest Event to Ages prove No Crown sits safe without the Peoples Love Exeunt ACT III. The Scene The House of Artabanus Enter Memnon with a Paper Mem. HOnesty's a Notion and only Reigns Like Womens Chastity in cold Untempted Minds It must be so I ever thought that Villany Had an ugly Face but now I view it In the Flattering Glass of Interest it seems No Monster Of a fairer form than half starv'd Virtue Yet let me think a little Here I am trusted with the Names of several Men Who have combin'd to free th' Imprison'd General To seize the King and force him to renew The War with Greece Nay I 've subscrib'd my own T' assist 'em too and now am going to inform The General of it The Undertaking is but Just For Old Mardonius lov'd the King and lies In Chains because he offer'd proof on 't Xerxes Is unfit to hold the Reins of Empire He throws 'em loose and lets it run to shame And Luxury Why don 't I haste to stop him then And by the Execution of what I 've sworn to act Prevent my Countries Ruine But stay suppose I fail in my Design as sure 't is dangerous If I am taken can my Country save me Or if I succeed am I sure my Country Will be grateful They 'll say perhaps 't was Interest Led me on And let me starve while they partake the Blessing They may be base and probably they will Then 'T is not safe to trust 'em nor can I On th' other side be sure of Life if I delay This great Discovery Why then 'T is fixt I 'll take the surest way to find Reward from Xerxes And when my Pardon and Reward are sign'd Then let 'em call me Fool or tell the King I am a Villain Exit Enter Artabanus Aranthes c. Art Never was Cause my Friends more chearfully Embrac'd never were Hands more fit for Action Nor ever greater Glory waiting on success 'T is not the Thirst of others Wealth or Dignities Nor Envy of a favour'd Faction that inflames us No Mercenary end 'T is Bleeding Honour calls us To revenge her Wounds 't is Xerxes not the King That stands accus'd If Xerxes can relent Still let him wear the Crown if not the Crown By us remov'd can dignify Another Head for Empire Aran. 'T is not who Reigns but who Reigns well is King Art