Complete Works of Edward Young by Edward Young

Author:Edward Young [Young, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Poetry
ISBN: 9781913487232
Publisher: Delphi Classics
Published: 2020-06-25T04:00:00+00:00

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Scene, the Palace.

A magnificent throne discovered, and severed courtiers walking to and fro.

Enter SYPHOCES and RAMESES. Shouts at a distance.

Ram. WHAT means this dust and tumult in the court,

These streamers fooling in the wind, these shouts,

The tyrant blazing in full insolence,

And all his gaudy courtiers basking round him,

Like poisonous vermin in a dog-day sun?

Syph. Your father and prince Myron are arrived,

And with one peal of joy the nation rings.

Ram. Long has my father served this tyrant king

With zeal well worthy of a better cause.

Though with his helm he hides a hoary brow,

Long versed in death, the father of the field,

At the shrill trumpet he throws off the weight

Of fourscore years, and springs upon the foe.

The transport danger gives him conquers nature,

And a short youth boils up within his veins.

Syph. Behold, this way they pass to meet the king.

MYRON and NICANOR pass the stage with attendants.

Ram. (Looking on Myron.) What pity’t is that one so lost in guilt

Should thus engage the sight with manly charms,

And make vice lovely!

Syph. Pardon me, Rameses:

Though to my foe, I must be ever just.

He’s generous, grateful, affable, and brave:

But then he knows no limit to his passion;

The tempest-beaten bark is not so toss’d

As is his reason, when those winds arise:

And though he draws a fatal sword in battle,

And kindles in the warm pursuit of fame,

Pleasure subdues him quite; the sparkling eye,

And generous bowl, bear down his graver mind,

While fiery spirits dance along his veins,

And keep a constant revel in his heart.

Ram. But here the tyrant comes! With what excess

Of idle pride will he receive his son!

How with big words will he swell out this conquest,

And into grandeur puff his little tales!

Enter KING, and ascends the throne; on the other side,

Sample correction and NICANOR.

King. Welcome, my son; great partner of my fame!

I thank thee for the’ increase of my dominions;

That now more mountains rise, more rivers flow,

And more stars shine, in my still-growing empire.

The sun himself surveys it not at once,

But travels for the view, whilst for-disjoin’d

My subjects live unheard-of by each other;

These wrapp’d in shades, whilst those enjoy the light:

Their day is various, but their king the same.

Myr. Here, sir, your thanks are due; to this old arm,

Whose nerve not threescore winter camps unbend,

You owe your victory, and I my life.

When my fierce courser, with a javelin stung,

First rear’d in air, then, tearing with a bound

The trembling earth, plunged deep amidst the foe;

And now a thousand deaths from every side

Had but one mark, and on my buckler rung;

Through the throng’d legions, like a tempest, rush’d

This friend, o’er gasping heroes, rolling steeds,

And snatch’d me from my fate.

Bus. I thank thee, general.

Thou hast a heart that swells with loyalty,

And throws off the infection of these times;

But thy degenerate boy —

Nic. No more my son;

I cut him off; my guilt, my punishment.

Look not, dread sir, on me through his offence:

O let not that discolour all my service,

And ruin those who blame him for his crimes!

Bus. Old man, I will not wear the crown in vain;

Subjects shall work my will, or feel my power;

Their disobedience shall not be my guilt.

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