Bibliographic details for the Source Text
Sir William D'Avenant, 1606-1668 1606-1668
The Siege Of Rhodes: The First and Second Part; As they were lately Represented at His Highness the Duke of York's Theatre in Lincolns-Inn Fields. The First Part being lately enlarg'd. Written by Sir VVilliam D'avenant
Printed for Henry Herringman [etc.] 1663
, 46, 61 p.
Preliminaries and introductory matter omitted.
The following plays have been taken from this source:
|The Siege Of Rhodes: The First Part|
|The Siege Of Rhodes: The Second Part|
The siege of Rhodes, part i.
Date first published: 1656.
Date first performed: Sep 1656.
|Solyman The Magnificent.|
|Pirrhus Vizier Bassa.|
|Haly Eunuch Bassa.|
|Villerius Grand Master of Rhodes.|
|Alphonso A Cicilian Duke.|
|Admiral Of Rhodes.|
|High Marshal Of Rhodes.|
|Roxolana Wife to Solyman.|
|Ianthe Wife to Alphonso.|
|Women Attendants to Roxolana.|
|Women Attendants to Ianthe.|
|Four Pages Attendants to Roxolana.|
The Scene, RHODES.
The Ornament which encompass'd the Scene, consisted of several Columns, of gross Rustick work; which bore up a large Freese. In the middle of the Freese was a Compartiment, wherein was written RHODES. The Compartiment was supported by divers Habiliments of War; intermix'd with the Military Ensigns of those several Nations who were famous for defence of that Island; which were the French, Germans, and Spaniards, the Italians, Avergnois, and English: The Renown of the English valor, made the Grand Master Villerius, to select their Station to be most frequently commanded by himself.
The principal enrichment of the Freese was a Crimson Drapery, whereon several Trophies of Arms were fixt, Those on the Right hand, representing such as are chiefly in use amongst the Western Nations; together with the proper Cognizance of the Order of the Rhodian Knights; and on the left, such as are most esteem'd in the Eastern Countries; and on an Antique Shield the Crescent of the Ottomans.
The Scene before the First Entry.
The Curtain being drawn up, a lightsome Sky appear'd, discov'ring a Maritime Coast, full of craggy Rocks, and high Cliffs, with several Verdures naturally growing upon such Scituations; and afar off, the true Prospect of the City of RHODES, when it was in prosperous
estate; with so much view of the Gardens and Hills about it, as the narrowness of the Room could allow the Scene. In that part of the Horizon, terminated by the Sea, was represented the Turkish Fleet, making towards a Promontory, some few miles distant from the Town.
The Entry is prepared by Instrumental Musick.
Arm, Arm, Villerius, Arm!
Thou hast no leisure to grow old;
Those now must feel thy courage warm,
Who think thy blood is cold.
Our Admiral from Sea?
What storm transporteth thee?
Or bring'st thou storms that can do more
Than drive An Admiral on shore?
Arm, Arm, the Bassa's Fleet appears;
To Rhodes his Course from Chios steers;
Her shady wings to distant sight,
Spread like the Curtains of the Night.
Each Squadron thicker and still darker grows;
The Fleet like many floating Forrests shows.
Arm, Arm! Let our Drums beat
To all our Out-Guards, a Retreat;
And to our Main Guards add
Files double lin'd from the Parade.
Send Horse to drive the Fields;
Prevent what rip'ning Summer yields.
To all the Foe would save
Set fire, or give a secret Grave.
I'le to our Gallies hast,
Untackle ev'ry Mast;
 Hale 'em within the Peer,
To range and chain 'em there,
And then behind St. Nic'las Cliffs
Shelter our Brigants, Land our Skiffs.
Our Field and Bulwark-Cannon mount with hast;
Fix to their Blocks their brazen bodies fast:
Whilst to their Foes their Iron Entrails fly:
Display our Colours, raise our Standard high!
What various Noises do mine ears invade?
And have a Consort of confusion made?
The shriller Trumpet, and Tempestuous Drum:
The deaf'ning clamor from the Canonns womb;
Which through the Air like suddain Thunder breaks,
Seems calm to Souldiers shouts, and womens shrieks.
What danger (Rev'rend Lord) does this portend?
Danger begins what must in Honour end.
What Vizards does it wear?
Such, gentle Prince,
As cannot fright, but yet must warn you hence.
What can to Rhodes more fatally appear
Than the bright Crescents which those Ensigns wear?
Wise Emblems that encreasing Empire show;
Which must be still in Nonage and still grow.
All these are yet but the forerunning Van
Of the Prodigious Gross of Solyman.
 Pale shew those Crescents to our bloody Cross?
Sink not the Western Kingdoms in our loss?
Will not the Austrian Eagle moult her Wings,
That long hath hover'd o're the Gallick-Kings?
Whose Lillies too will wither when we fade;
And 'th'English Lyon shrink into a shade.
Thou see'st not, whilst so young and guiltless too,
That Kings mean seldome what their States-men do;
Who measure not the compass of a Crown
To fit the Head that wears it, but their own;
Still hind'ring peace, because they Stewards are,
Without account, to that wild Spender, War.
Enter High Marshal of Rhodes.
Still Christian Wars they will pursue, and boast
Unjust successes gain'd, whilst Rhodes is lost:
Whilst we build Monuments of Death, to shame
Those who forsook us in the Chase of Fame.
We will endure the Colds of Court-delays;
Honour grows warm in Airy Vests of Praise.
On Rocky Rhodes we will like Rocks abide.
Away, away, and hasten to thy Bride!
'Tis scarce a Month since from thy Nuptial Rites
Thou cam'st to honour here our Rhodian Knights:
To dignifie our sacred annual Feast:
We love to Lodge, not to entombe a Guest.
Honour must yield, where Reason should prevail.
 Abroad, Abroad, and hoyse up ev'ry Sail
That gathers any Wind for Sicilie!
Men lose their Virtu's Pattern, losing thee.
Thy Bride doth yield her Sex no less a Light,
But, thy life gone, will set in endless Night.
Ye must like Stars shine long ere ye expire?
Honour is colder Virtue set on fire:
My Honour lost, her Love would soon decay:
Here for my Tomb or Triumph I will stay.
My Sword against proud Solyman I draw,
His cursed Prophet, and his sensual Law.
Our Swords against proud Solyman we draw,
His cursed Prophet, and his sensual Law.
Enter Ianthe, Melosile, Madina (her Two VVomen) bearing Two open
Caskets with Jewels.
To Rhodes this fatal Fleet her course does bear.
Can I have Love, and not discover fear?
When he, in whom my plighted heart doth live
(Whom Hymen gave me in reward
Of vows, which he with favour heard,
And is the greatest Gift he e're can give)
Shall in a cruel Siege imprison'd be,
And I, whom Love has bound, have liberty!
Away? Let's leave our flourishing abodes
In Sicily, and fly to with'ring Rhodes.
Will you convert to Instruments of War
To things which to our Sex so dreadfull are,
 Which terrour add to Death's detested face,
These Ornaments which should your Beauty grace?
Beauty laments! and this exchange abhors!
Shall all these Gems in Arms be spent
Which were by Bounteous Princes sent
To pay the Valour of your Ancestors?
If by their sale my Lord may be redeem'd.
Why should they more than trifles be esteem'd
Vainly secur'd with Iron Bars and Locks?
They are the Spawn of Shells, and Warts of Rocks.
All Madam, all? Will you from all depart?
Love a Consumption learns from Chymists Art.
Saphyrs, and harder Di'monds must be sold
And turn'd to softer and more current Gold.
With Gold we cursed Powder may prepare
Which must consume in smoak and thinner Air.
Thou Idol-Love, I'l worship thee no more
Since thou dost make us sorrowfull and poor.
Go seek out Cradles, and with Child-hood dwell;
Where you may still be free
From Loves self-Flattery,
And never hear mistaken Lovers tell
Of blessings, and of joys in such extreams
As never are possest but in our Dreams.
They woo apace, and hasten to be sped;
 And praise the quiet of the Marriage-bed:
But mention not the Storms of grief and care
When Love does them surprize
With sudden Jealousies,
Or they are sever'd by ambitious War.
Love may perhaps the Foolish please:
But he shall quickly leave my heart
When he perswades me to depart
From such a hoord of precious things as these.
Send out to watch the Wind! with the first Gale
I'l leave thee Sicilie; and, hoysing Sail,
Steer strait to Rhodes. For Love and I must be
Preserv'd (Alphonso!) or else lost with thee.
By Souldiers of several Nations.
Come ye Termagant Turks,
If your Bassa dares Land ye,
VVhilst the VVine bravely works
Which was brought us from Candy.
VVealth, the least of our care is,
For the poor ne'r are undone;
Avous, Mounsieur of Paris,
To the Back-swords of London.
Diego, thou, in a trice,
Shalt advance thy lean Belly;
For their Hens and their Rice
Make Pillau like a Jelly.
 Let 'em Land fine and free;
For my Cap though an old one,
Such a Turbant shall be,
Thou wilt think it a Gold one.
It is seven to one odds
They had safer Sail'd by us:
VVhilst our VVine lasts in Rhodes,
They shall water at Chios.
The Scene is chang'd, and the City, Rhodes, appears beleaguer'd at Sea and Land.
The Second Entry.
Enter Villerius and Admiral.
The bloud of Rhodes grows cold: Life must expire!
The Duke still warms it with his valours fire!
If he has much in Honours presence done,
Has sav'd our Ensigns, or has others won,
Then he but well by your Example wrought;
VVho well in Honours School his Child-hood taught.
The Foe three Moons tempestuously has spent
VVhere we will never yield, nor he relent;
Still we, but raise what must be beaten down;
Defending VValls, yet cannot keep the Town;
Vent'ring last stakes where we can nothing win;
And, shutting slaughter out, keep Famine in.
How oft and vainly Rhodes for succour waits
From triple Diadems, and Scarlet Hats?
Rome keeps her Gold, cheaply her VVarriours pays
At first with Blessings, and at last with Praise.
By Armies, stow'd in Fleets, exhausted Spain
 Leaves half her Land unplough'd, to plough the Main;
And still would more of the old VVorld subdue,
As if unsatisfi'd with all the New.
France strives to have her Lillies grow as fair
In others Realms as where they Native are.
The English Lyon ever loves to change
His VValks, and in remoter Forrests range.
All gaining vainly from each others loss;
VVhilst still the Crescent drives away the Cross.
How bravely fought the fiery French.
Their Bulwark being storm'd?
The colder Almans kept their Trench,
By more than Valour warm'd.
The grave Italians paus'd and fought,
The solemn Spaniards too;
Study'ng more Deaths than could be wrought
By what the rash could do.
Th'Avergnian Colours high were rais'd,
Twice tane, and twice reliev'd.
Our Foes, like Friends to Valour, prais'd
The mischiefs they receiv'd.
The cheerfull English got renown;
Fought merrily and fast:
'Tis time, they cry'd, to mow them down,
Wars Harvest cannot last.
 If Death be Rest, here let us dye,
Where weariness is all
We dayly get by Victory,
Who must by Famine fall.
Great Solyman is landed now;
All Fate he seems to be;
And brings those Tempests in his Brow
Which he deserv'd at Sea.
He can at most but once prevail,
Though arm'd with Nations that were brought by more
Gross gallies then would serve to hale
This Island to the Lycian shore.
Let us apace do worthily and give
Our Story length, though long we cannot live.
So greatly do, that being dead,
Brave wonders may be wrought
By such as shall our story read
And study how me fought.
Enter Solyman, Pirrhus.
What sudden halt hath stay'd thy swift Renown,
O're-running Kingdoms, stopping at a Town?
He that will win the Prize in Honours Race
Must nearer to the Goal still mend his pace.
If Age thou feel'st, the active Camp forbear;
In sleepy Cities rest, the Caves of fear.
Thy mind was never valiant, if, when old,
 Thy Courage cools because thy blood is cold.
How can ambitious Manhood be exprest
More then by marks of our disdain of Rest?
What less than toyls incessant can, despite
Of Cannon, raise these Mounts to Castle-height?
Or less than utmost or unwearied strength
Can draw these Lines of batt'ry to that length?
The toils of Ants, and Mole-hills rais'd, in scorn
Of Labour, to be levell'd with a spurn.
These are the Pyramids that shew your pains;
But of your Armies valour, where remains
One Trophy to excuse a Bassa's boast?
Valour may reckon what she bravely lost;
Not from successes all her count does raise:
By life well lost we gain a share of praise.
If we in dangers Glass all Valour see,
And Death the farthest step of danger be,
Behold our Mount of Bodies made a Grave;
And prize our loss by what we scorn'd to save.
Away! range all the Camp for an Assault!
Tell them, they tread in Graves who make a halt.
Fat Slaves, who have been lull'd to a Disease;
Cramm'd out of breath, and crippled by their ease!
Whose active Fathers leapt o're Walls too high
For them to climb: Hence, from my anger fly:
 Which is too worthy for thee, being mine,
And must be quench'd by Rhodian blood or thine.
Exit Pirrhus, bowing.
In Honour's Orb the Christians shine;
Their light in War does still increase;
Though oft misled by mists of Wine,
Or blinder love, the Crime of Peace.
Bold in Adult'ries frequent change;
And ev'ry loud expensive Vice;
Ebbing out wealth by wayes as strange
As it flow'd in by avarice.
Thus vildly they dare live, and yet dare dye.
If Courage be a vertue, 'tis allow'd
But to those few on whom our Crowns rely,
And is condemn'd as madness in the Crowd.
Enter Mustapha, Ianthe veil'd.
Great Sultan, Hail! though here at Land
Lost Fools in opposition stand;
Yet thou at Sea dost all command.
What is it thou wouldst shew, and yet dost shrowd?
I bring the Morning pictur'd in a Cloud;
A Wealth more worth then all the Sea does hide;
Or Courts display in their triumphant pride.
Thou seem'st to bring the daughter of the Night;
And giv'st her many stars to make her bright.
Dispatch my wonder and relate her story.
'Tis full of Fate, and yet ha's much of glory.
 A Squadron of our Gallies that did ply
West from this Coast, met two of Sicily,
Both fraught to furnish Rhodes, we gave 'em chace,
And had, but for our Number, met disgrace.
For, grapling, they maintain'd a bloody Fight,
Which did begin with Day and end with Night.
And though this bashful Lady then did wear
Her Face still vail'd, her valour did appear:
She urg'd their courage when they boldly Fought,
And many shun'd the dangers, which she sought.
Where are the limits thou would'st set for praise?
Or to what height wilt thou thy wonder raise?
This is Ianthe, the Sicilian Flower,
Sweeter then Buds unfolded in a shower,
Bride to Alphonso, who in Rhodes so long
The Theam has been of each Heroick Song;
And she for his relief those Gallies fraught;
Both stow'd with what her Dow'r and Jewels bought.
O wond'rous vertue of a Christian Wife!
Advent'ring lifes support, and then her Life
To save her ruin'd Lord! Bid her unvail!
Ianthe steps back.
It were more honour, Sultan, to assail
A publick strength against thy forces bent,
Then to unwall this private Tenement,
To which no Monarch, but my Lord, has right;
 Nor will it yield to Treaty or to Might:
Where Heavn's great Law defends him from surprise:
This Curtain onely opens to his eyes.
If Beauty vail'd so vertuous be,
'Tis more then Christian Husbands know;
Whose Ladies wear their faces free,
Which they to more then Husband show.
Your Bassa swore, and by his dreadful Law,
None but my Lords dear hand this Vail should draw;
And that to Rhodes I should conducted be,
To take my share of all his destiny:
Else I had quickly found
Sure means to get some wound,
Which would in deaths cold Arms
My honour instant safety give
From all those rude Alarms
Which keep it waking whilst I live.
Hast thou ingag'd our Prophets plight
To keep her Beauty from my sight,
And to conduct her Person free
To harbour with mine Enemy?
Vertue constrain'd the priviledge I gave:
Shall I for sacred Vertue pardon crave?
I envy not the conquests of thy sword:
Thrive still in Wicked War;
 But, Slave, how did'st thou dare,
In vertuous Love, thus to transcend thy Lord?
Thou did'st thy utmost vertue show:
Yet somewhat more does rest,
Not yet by thee exprest;
Which vertue left for me to do.
Thou great example of a Christian Wife,
Enjoy thy Lord, and give him happy Life.
Thy gallies with their fraight,
For which the hungry wait,
Shall strait to Rhodes conducted be;
And as thy passage to him shall be free,
So both may safe return to Sicilie.
May Solyman be ever far
From impious honours of the War;
Since worthy to receive renown
From things repair'd, not overthrown.
And when in peace his vertue thrives,
Let all the race of Loyal wives
Sing this his bounty to his glory,
And teach their Princes by his story:
Of which, if any Victors be,
Let them, because he conquer'd me,
Strip cheerfully each others Brow,
And at his feet their Laurel throw.
 Strait to the Port her Gallies steer;
Then hale the Centry at the Peer.
And though our Flags ne'r use to bow,
They shall do Vertue Homage now.
Give Fire still as she passes by,
And let our Streamers lower fly.
Exeunt several ways.
Chorus of Women.
Let us live, live! for being dead,
The pretty Spots,
Ribbands and Knots,
And the fine French dress for the Head;
No Lady wears upon her
In the cold, cold, Bed of Honour.
Beat down our Grottoes, and hew down our Bowers,
Dig up our Arbours, and root up our Flowers.
Our Gardens are Bulwarks and Bastions become:
Then hang up our Lutes, we must sing to the Drum.
Our Patches and our Curls
(So exact in each station)
Our Powders and our Purls
Are now out of fashion.
Hence with our Needles, and give us your Spades;
VVe, that were Ladies, grow coorse as our Maids.
Our Coaches have drove us to Balls at the Court,
We now must drive Barrows to earth up the Port.
The further part of the Scene is open'd, and a Royal Pavilion appears display'd; Representing Solyman's Imperial Throne; and about it are discern'd the Quarters of his Bassa's, and Inferiour Officers.
The Entry is again prepar'd by Instrumental Musick.
Enter Solyman, Pirrhus, Mustapha.
Pirrhus, Draw up our Army wide!
 Then from the Gross two strong Reserves divide;
And spread the wings;
As if we were to fight,
In the lost Rhodians sight,
With all the Western Kings!
Each wing with Janizaries line;
The Right and Left to Hally's Sons assign;
The Gross to Zangiban.
The Main Artillery
With Mustapha shall be:
Bring thou the Rear, we lead the Van.
It shall be done as early as the Dawn;
As if the Figure by thy hand were drawn.
We wish that we, to ease thee, could prevent
All thy Commands, by ghessing thy intent.
These Rhodians, who of Honour boast,
A loss excuse, when bravely lost:
Now they may bravely lose their Rhodes,
Which never play'd against such odds.
To morrow let them see our strength, and weep
Whilst they their want of losing blame;
Their valiant folly strives too long to keep
What might be render'd without shame.
'Tis well our valiant Prophet did
In us not only loss forbid,
 But has conjoyn'd us still to get.
Empire must move apace,
When she begins the Race,
And apter is for wings than feet.
They vainly interrupt our speed.
And civil Reason lack,
To know they should go back
When we determine to proceed.
When to all Rhodes our Army does appear
Shall we then make a sudden halt,
And give a general Assault?
Pirrhus not yet, Ianthe being there:
Let them our valour, by our Mercy prize.
The respit of this day
To vertuous Love shall pay
A debt long due for all my Victories.
If vertuous Beauty can attain such grace
Whilst she a Captive was, and hid,
What wisdom can his Love forbid
When Vertue's free, and Beauty shews her Face?
Dispatch a Trumpet to the Town;
Summon Ianthe to be gone
Safe with her Lord. When both are free
And in their Course to Sicily,
Then Rhodes shall for that valour mourn
 Which stops the hast of our return.
Those that in Grecian Quarries wrought,
And Pioneers from Lycia brought,
Who like a Nation in a throng appear,
So great their number is, are landed here:
Where shall they work?
Upon Philermus Hill.
There, ere this Moon her Circle fills with days,
They shall, by punisht sloth and cherish'd skill,
A spacious Palace in a Castle raise:
A Neighbourhood within the Rhodians view;
Where, if my anger cannot them sudue,
My patience shall out-wait them, whilst they long
Attend to see weak Princes make them strong:
There I'le grow old, and dye too, if they have
The secret Art to fast me to my Grave.
The Scene is chang'd to that of the Town Besieg'd.
Enter Villerius, Admiral, Alphonso, Ianthe.
VVhen we, Ianthe, would this act commend,
We know no more how to begin
Than we should do, if we were in,
How suddenly to make an end.
What Love was yours which these strong bars of Fate
Were all too weak to separate?
Which seas and storms could not divide,
Nor all the dreadful Turkish pride?
VVhich pass'd secure, though not unseen,
 Even double guards of Death that lay between.
VVhat more could Honour for fair Vertue do?
VVhat could Alphonso venture more for you?
With wonder and with shame we must confess
All we our selves can do for Rhodes, is less.
Nor did your love and courage act alone.
Your bounty too has no less wonders done.
And for our Guard you have brought wisely down
A Troop of Vertues to defend the Town:
The only Troop that can a Town defend,
Which Heav'n before for ruine did intend.
Look here ye Western Monarchs, look with shame,
Who fear not a remote, though common Foe;
The Cabinet of one illustrious Dame
Does more then your Exchequers joyn'd did do.
Indeed I think, Ianthe, few
So young and flourishing as you,
Whose Beauties might so well adorn
The Jewels which by them are worn,
Did ever Musquets for them take,
Nor of their Pearls did bullets make.
When you, my Lord, are shut up here
Expence of treasure must appear
So far from bounty, that, alass!
It covetous advantage was:
 For with small cost I sought to save
Even all the Treasure that I have.
Who would not all her trifling Jewels give,
Which but from Number can their worth derive,
If she could purchase or redeem with them
One great inestimable Gemm?
Oh ripe perfection in a brest so young
Vertue has turn'd her heart, and Wit her tongue.
Though Rhodes no pleasure can allow
I dare secure the safety of it now;
All will so labour to save you
As that will save the City too.
Alass! the utmost I have done
More then a just reward has won,
If by my Lord and you it be but thought,
I had the care to serve him as I ought.
Brave Duke farewell, the Scouts for Orders wait,
And the Parade does fill.
Great Master, I'll attend your pleasure strait,
And strive to serve your will.
Exeunt Vill. Adm.
Ianthe after all this praise
Which Fame so fully to you pays,
For that which all the world beside
Admires you, I alone must chide.
Are you that kind and vertuous Wife,
 Who thus expose your Husband's Life?
The hazards, both at Land and Sea,
Through which so boldly thou hast run,
Did more assault and threaten me
Then all the Sultan could have done.
Thy dangers, could I them have seen,
Would not to me have dangers been,
But certain death: Now thou art here
A danger worse than death I fear.
Thou hast, Ianthe, honour won,
But mine, alass! will be undone:
For as thou valiant wer't for me,
I shall a Coward grow for thee.
Take heed Alphonso, for this care of me,
Will to my Fame injurious be;
Your love will brighter by it shine,
But it eclipses mine.
Since I would here before, or with you fall,
Death needs but becken when he means to call.
Ianthe, even in this you shall command,
And this my strongest passion guide;
Your vertue will not be deny'd:
It could even Solyman himself withstand;
To whom it did so beauteous show:
It seem'd to civilize a barb'rous Foe.
 Of this your strange escape, Ianthe, say,
Briefly the motive and the way.
Did I not tell you how we fought,
How I was taken, and how brought
Before great Solyman? but there
I think we interrupted were.
Yes, but we will not be so here,
Should Solyman himself appear.
It seems that what the Bassa of me said,
Had some respect and admiration bred
In Solyman; and this to me increast
The jealousies which Honour did suggest.
All that of Turks and Tyrants I had heard,
But that I fear'd not Death, I should have fear'd.
I, to excuse my Voyage, urg'd my Love
To your high worth; which did such pity move
That straight his usage did reclaim my fear;
He seem'd in civil France, and Monarch there:
For soon my Person, Gallies, Fraight, were free
By his command.
O wondrous Enemy!
These are the smallest gifts his bounty knew.
What could he give you more?
He gave me you;
And you may homewards now securely go
 Through all his Fleet.
But Honour says not so.
If that forbid it, you shall never see
That I and that will disagree:
Honour will speak the same to me.
This Christian Turk amazes me, my Dear!
How long, Ianthe, stay'd you there?
Two days with Mustapha.
How do you say?
Two days, and two whole nights? alas!
That it, my Lord, no longer was,
Is such a mercy, as too long I stay,
E'r at the Altar thanks to Heav'n I pay.
To Heav'n, Confession should prepare the way.
She is all Harmony, and fair as light
But brings me discord, and the Clouds of night.
And Solyman does think Heav'ns joys to be
In women not so fair as she.
'Tis strange! Dismiss so fair an Enemy!
She was his own by right of War,
We are his Dogs, and such as she, his Angels are.
O wondrous Turkish chastity!
Her Gallies, fraight, and those to send
Into a Town which he would take!
Are we besieg'd then by a friend?
 Could Honour such a Present make,
Then when his Honour is at stake?
Against it self, does Honour booty play?
We have the liberty to go away!
Strange above miracle! But who can say
If in his hands we once should be
What would become of her? For what of me
Though Love is blind, ev'n Love may see.
Come back my thoughts, you must not rove!
For sure Ianthe does Alphonso love!
Oh Solyman, this mistique act of thine,
Does all my quiet undermine:
But on thy Troops, if not on Thee,
This Sword my cure, and my revenge shall be.
Enter Roxolana, Pirrhus, Rustan.
You come from Sea as Venus came before;
And seem that Goddess, but mistake her shore.
Her Temple did in fruitfull Cyprus stand;
The Sultan wonders why in Rhodes you Land.
And by your sudden Voyage he doth fear
The Tempest of your Passion drove you here.
Rustan, I bring more wonder than I find;
And it is more than humour bred that wind
Which with a forward Gale
Did make me hither sail.
He does your forward Jealousie reprove.
 Yet Jealousie does spring from too much Love;
If mine be Guilty of excess,
I dare pronounce it shall grow less.
You boldly threaten more than we dare hear.
That which you call your Duty is your fear.
We have some Valour or our wounds are feign'd:
What has your Valour from the Rhodians gain'd?
Unless Ianthe, as a prize, you boast;
Who now has got that heart which I have lost.
Brave conquest, where the Takers self is taken!
And, as a Present, I
Bring vainly, e're I dye,
That heart to him which he has now forsaken.
Whispers of Eunuchs, and by Pages brought
To Licia, you have up to Story wrought.
Lead to the Sultan's Tent! Pirrhus, away!
For I dare hear what he himself dares say.
Of Men and Women.
Ye wives all that are, and wives would be,
Unlearn all ye learnt here, of one another,
And all ye have learnt of an Aunt or a Mother:
Then strait hither come, a new Pattern to see,
Which in a good humour kind fortune did send;
A glass for your minds, as well as your faces:
Make haste then and break your own Looking-glasses;
If you see but your selves, you'l never amend.
 You that will teach us what your wives ought to do,
Take heed; there's a pattern in Town too for you.
Be you but Alphonsos, and we
Perhaps Ianthes will be.
Be you but Ianthes, and we
Alphonsos a while will be.
Let both sides begin then, rather than neither;
Let's both joyn our hands, and both mend together.
The Scene is vary'd to the Prospect of Mount Philermus: Artificers appearing at work about that Castle which was there, with wonderful expedition, erected by Solyman. His great Army is discovered in the Plain below, drawn up in Battalia, as if it were prepar'd for a general Assault.
The Entry is again prepar'd by Instrumental Musick.
Enter Solyman, Pirrhus, Mustapha.
Refuse my Pass-port, and resolve to dye;
Only for fashions sake, for company?
Oh costly scruples! But I'le try to be,
Thou stubborn Honour, obstinate as thee.
My Pow'r thou shalt not vanquish by thy will,
I will enforce to live whom thou would'st kill.
They in to morrows storm will change their mind,
Then, though too late instructed, they shall find,
That those who your protection dare reject
No humane Power dares venture to protect.
They are not Foes, but Rebels, who withstand
The pow'r that does their Fate command.
Oh Mustapha, our strength we measure ill,
We want the half of what we think we have;
For we enjoy the Beast-like pow'r to kill,
But not the God-like pow'r to save.
Who laughs at Death, laughs at our highest Pow'r;
 The valiant man is his own Emperour.
Your pow'r to save, you have to them made known,
Who scorn'd it with ingratefull pride;
Now, how you can destroy, must next be shown;
And that the Christian world has try'd.
'Tis such a single pair
As onely equal are
Unto themselves; but many steps above
All others who attempt to make up Love.
Their Lives will noble History afford,
And must adorn my Scepter, not my Sword.
My strength in vain has with their vertue strove;
In vain their Hate would overcome my Love.
My favours Ile compell them to receive:
Go Mustapha, and strictest Orders give,
Through all the Camp, that in Assault they spare
(And in the Sack of this presumptuous Town)
The lives of these two strangers, with a care
Above the preservation of their own.
Alphonso has so oft his courage shown,
That he to all but Cowards must be known.
Ianthe is so fair that none can be
Mistaken, amongst thousands, which is she.
The Scene returns to that of the Town Besieg'd.
Enter Alphonso, Ianthe.
Alphonso, Now the danger grows so near,
Give her that loves you, leave to fear.
 Nor do I blush, this passion to confess,
Since it for object has no less
Than even your liberty, or life;
I fear not as a woman, but a wife.
VVe were too proud no use to make
Of Solyman's obliging proffer;
For why should Honour scorn to take
What Honour's self does to it offer.
To be o'rcome by his victorious Sword,
VVill comfort to our fall afford;
Our strength may yield to his; but 'tis not fit
Our vertue should to his submit;
In that, Ianthe, I must be
Advanc'd, and greater far than he.
Fighting with him who strives to be your friend,
You not with Vertue, but with Pow'r, contend.
Forbid it Heav'n, our friends should think that we
Did merit friendship from an Enemy.
He is a Foe to Rhodes, and not to you.
In Rhodes besieg'd, we must be Rhodians too.
'Twas Fortune that engag'd you in this war.
'Twas Providence! Heaven's Pris'ners here we are.
That Providence our Freedom does restore;
The hand that shut, now opens us the Door.
Had Heav'n that Pass-port for our freedom sent,
 It would have chose some better Instrument
Than faithless Solyman.
O say not so!
To strike and wound the vertue of your Foe
Is cruelty, which war does not allow:
Sure he has better words deserv'd from you.
From me, Ianthe, No;
What he deserves from you, you best must know.
What means my Lord?
For I confess, I wust
The poyson'd bounties of a Foe mistrust:
And whenupon the Bait I look,
Though all seem fair, suspect the Hook.
He, though a Foe, is generous and true:
What he hath done declares what he will do.
He in two days your high esteem has won:
What he would do I know; who knows what he has done?
Done? Wicked Tongue, what hast thou said?
What horrid falshood from thee fled?
Oh, Jealousie (if Jealousie it be)
Would I had here an Asp instead of Thee!
Sure you are sick, your words, alas!
Gestures, and looks, distempers shew.
Ianthe, you may safely pass;
The Pass, no doubt, was meant to you.
 He's jealous sure; Oh, vertue! can it be?
Have I for this serv'd Vertue faithfully?
Speak, Ianthe, and be free.
Have I deserv'd this change?
Thou do'st deserve
So much, that Emperours are proud to serve
The fair Ianthe; and not dare
To hurt a Land whilst she is there.
Return (Renown'd Ianthe) safely home;
And force thy passage with thine Eyes
To conquer Rodes will be a prize
Less glorious than by thee to be o'rcome.
But since he longs (it seems) so much to see,
And be possest of me,
Tell him, I shall not fly beyond his reach:
Would he could dare to meet me in the Breach.
Tell him! tell him? Oh no, Alphonso, no.
Let never man thy weakness know;
Thy suddain fall will be a shame
To Man's and Vertue's name.
Alphonso's false! for what can falser be
Than to suspect that falshood dwells in me?
Could Solyman both Life and Honour give?
And can Alphonso me of both deprive?
 Of both Alphonso; for believe
Ianthe will disdain to live
So long as to let others see
Thy true, and her imputed, infamy.
No more let Lovers think they can possess
More than a month of happiness.
We thought our hold of it was strong
We thought our Lease of it was long:
But, now, that all may ever happy prove,
Let never any love.
And yet these troubles of my Love to me
Shall shorter than the pleasures be,
I'l till to morrow last; then the Assault
Shall finish my misfortune and his fault.
I to my Enemies shall doubly ow,
For saving me before, for killing now.
Enter Villerius, Admiral.
From out the Camp a valiant Christian Slave
Escap'd, and to our Knights assurance gave
That at the break of day
Their Mine will play.
Oft Martiningus struck and try'd the ground,
And Counter-digg'd, and has the hollows found:
We shall prevent
Their dire intent.
Where is the Duke, whose Valour strives to keep
 Rhodes still awake, which else would dully sleep?
His Courage and his Reason is o'rethrown.
Thou sing'st the sad destruction of our Town.
I met him wild as all the winds,
When in the Ocean they contest:
And diligent suspition finds
He is with Jealousie possest.
That Arrow, once misdrawn, must ever rove.
O weakness, sprung from mightiness of Love!
O pitty'd Crime!
Alphonso will be overthrown
Unless we take this Ladder down,
Where, though the Rounds are broke,
He does himself provoke
Too hastily to Climb.
Invisibly, as dreams, Fame's wings
Fly every where;
Hov'ring all day o're Palaces of Kings;
At night she lodges in the people's ear:
Already they perceive Alphonso wild,
And the belov'd Ianthe griev'd.
Let us no more by Honour be beguil'd;
This Town can never be reliev'd;
Alphonso and Ianthe being lost,
Rhodes, thou dost cherish Life with too much cost!
 Away, unchain the Streets, unearth the Ports.
Pull down each Barracade
Which womens fears have made,
And bravely Sally out from all the Forts!
Drive back the Crescents, and advance the Cross,
Or sink all human Empires in our loss!
Enter Roxolana, Pirrhus, Rustan, and two of her Women.
Not come to see me e're th'assault be past?
He spoke it not in anger but in haste.
If mighty Solyman be angry grown
It is not with his Empress, but the Town.
When stubborn Rhodes does him to anger move
'Tis by detaining there what he does Love.
He is resolv'd the City to destroy.
But more resolv'd Ianthe to enjoy.
T'avoid your danger cease your Jealousie.
Tell them of danger who do fear to Dye.
None but your self dares threaten you with Death.
Do not your beauty blast with your own breath.
You lessen't in your own esteem
When of his Love you jealous seem.
And but a faded beauty make it
When you suspect he can forsake it.
Believe not, Empress, that you are decay'd,
For so you'l seem by jealous passion sway'd.
He follows passion, I pursue my Reason:
 He loves the Traitor, and I hate the Treason.
Our foes appear! Th'assault will strait begin.
They Sally out where we must enter in.
Pirrhus, Rustan, in Chorus.
Let Solyman forget his way to Glory
Increase in Conquest and grow less in Story.
That honour which in vain
His valour shrinks to gain,
When from the Rhodians he Ianthe takes,
Is lost in losing me whom he forsakes.
Exeunt several wayes.
Chorus of Wives.
This cursed Jealousie, what is't?
'Tis Love that has lost it self in a Mist.
'Tis Love being frighted out of his wits.
'Tis Love that has a Fever got;
Love that is violently hot;
But troubled with cold and trembling fits.
'Tis yet a more unnatural evil:
'Tis the God of Love, 'tis the God of Love, possest with a Devil.
'Tis rich corrupted Wine of Love;
Which sharpest Vinegar does prove.
From all the sweet Flowers which might Honey make,
It does a deadly Poyson bring.
Strange Serpent which it self doth sting!
It never can sleep, and dreams still awake.
It stufs up the Marriage-bed with thorns.
It gores it self, it gores it self, with imagin'd horns.
The Scene is chang'd into a Representation of a general Assault given to
the Town; the greatest fury of the Army being discern'd at the English
The Entry is again prepar'd by Instrumental Musick.
The Fifth Entry.
 Traverse the Cannon! Mount the Batt'ries higher!
More Gabions, and renew the Blinds!
Like dust they powder spend,
And to our faces send
The heat of all the Element of fire;
And to their Backs have all the winds.
More Ladders, and reliefs to scale!
The Fire-crooks are too short! Help, help to hale!
That Battlement is loose, and strait will down!
Point well the Cannon, and play fast!
Their fury is too hot to last.
That Rampire shakes, they fly into the Town.
March up with those Reserves to that Redout!
Faint slaves! the Janizaries reel!
They bend, they bend! and seem to feel
The Terrours of a Rout.
Old Zanger halts, and re-inforcement lacks!
Advance those Pikes, and charge their Backs!
Those Plat-forms are too low to reach!
Haste, haste! call Haly to the Breach!
Can my domestique Janizaries flye!
And not adventure life for victory!
Whose child-hood with my Palace milk I fed:
Their youth, as if I were their Parent, bred.
 What is this Monster Death, that our poor Slaves,
Still vext with toyl, are loth to rest in Graves?
If life so pretious be, why do not they,
Who in war's trade can only live by prey,
Their own afflicted lives expose
To take the happier from their Foes.
Our Troops renew the Fight!
And those that sally'd out
To give the Rout,
Are now return'd in flight!
Follow, follow, follow, make good the Line!
In, Pirrhus, in! Look, we have sprung the Mine?
Those desp'rate English ne'r will fly!
Their firmness still does hinder others flight,
As if their Mistresses were by
To see and praise them whilst they fight.
That flame of valour in Alphonso's eyes,
Outshines the light of all my Victories!
Those who were slain when they his Bulwark storm'd,
As vanquish'd well;
Those who were left alive may now,
Because their valour is by his reform'd,
Hope to make others bow.
E'r while I in the English station saw
 Beauty, that did my wonder forward draw,
Whose valour did my Forces back disperse;
Fairer than Woman, and than man more fierce:
It shew'd such courage as disdain'd to yield,
And yet seem'd willing to be kil'd.
This Vision did to me appear:
Which mov'd my pitty and my fear:
It had a Dress much like the Imag'rie
For Heroes drawn, and may Ianthe be.
Fall on! the English stoop when they give fire!
They seem to furl their Colours and retire!
Advance! I onely would the Honour have
To conquer two, whom I by force would save.
Enter Alphonso with his Sword drawn.
My Reason by my Courage is misled!
Why chase I those who would from dying fly,
Enforcing them to sleep amongst the dead,
Yet keep my self unslain that fain would die?
Do not the Pris'ners whom we take declare
How Solyman proclaim'd through all his Host,
That they Ianthe's life and mine should spare?
Life ill preserv'd, is worse than basely lost.
Mine by dispatch of war he will not take,
But means to leave it lingring on the Rack;
That in his Palace I might live, and know
Her shame, and be afraid to call it so.
 Tyrants and Divels think all pleasures vain,
But what are still deriv'd from others pain.
Renown'd Alphonso, thou hast fought to day,
As if all Asia were thy valour's prey.
But now thou must do more
Than thou hast done before;
Else the important life of Rhodes is gone.
Why from the peacefull grave
Should I still strive to save
The lives of others, that would lose mine own?
The Souldiers call, Alphonso! thou hast taught
The way to all the wonders they have wrought;
Who now refuse to fight
But in thy Valour's sight.
I would to none example be to fly;
But fain would teach all human kind to dye.
Haste, haste! Ianthe in disguise
At th'English Bulwark wounded lies;
And in the French, our old great Master strives
From many hands to rescue many lives.
Ianthe wounded? where? alas!
Has mourning Pitty hid her face?
Let Pitty fly, fly far from the opprest,
Since she removes her Lodging from my brest!
You have but too great cruelties to chuse
 By staying here; you must Ianthe lose,
Who ventur'd life and fame for you;
Or your great Master quite forsake,
Who to your childhood first did shew
The ways you did to Honour take.
Ianthe cannot be
In safer company:
For what will not the valiant English do
When Beauty is distress'd and Vertue too.
Dispatch your choice, if you will either save
Occasion bids you run;
You must redeem the one
And I the other from a common grave.
Thou urgest me too fast.
This Riddle is too sad and intricate;
The hardest that was e're propos'd by Fate.
Honour and pitty have
Of both too short a time to choose!
Honour the one would save,
Pitty, would not the other lose.
A way, brave Duke, away!
Both Perish by our stay.
I to my Noble Master owe
All that my Youth did Nobly do:
 He in War's School my Master was,
The Ruler of my Life;
She my lov'd Mistriss; but, alass,
My now suspected Wife.
By this delay we both of them forsake!
Which of their rescues wilt thou undertake?
Hence Admiral, and to thy Master hy!
I will as swiftly to my Mistris fly;
Through Ambush, Fire, and all impediments
The witty cruelty of War invents:
For there does yet some taste of kindness last,
Still relishing the vertue that is past.
But how, Ianthe, can my sword successful prove,
Where honour stops, and only pitty leads my love?
Exeunt, several wayes.
O suddain change! repulst in all the heat
Of Victory, and forc'd to lose retreat!
Seven Crescents, fixt on their Redouts, are gone!
Horse, horse! we fly
Wheel, wheel from their Reserves, and charge our own!
Divide that VVing!
More succours bring!
Rally the Fled,
And quit out Dead!
Rescue that Ensign and that Drum!
 Bold slaves! they to our Trenches come:
Though still our Army does in posture stay
Drawn up to judge, not act, the business of the day;
As Rome, in Theaters, saw Fencers play.
Who can be loud enough to give command?
Stand, Haly, make a stand!
Those Horses to that Carriage span! Drive, drive!
Zanger is shot agen, yet still alive!
Coyns for the Culv'rin, then give fire
To cleer the Turn-Pikes, and let Zanger in!
Look, Pirrhus, look, they all begin
To alter their bold Count'nance, and retire!
The Scene returns to that of the Castle on Mount Philermus.
How cowardly my num'rous slaves fall back:
Slow to Assault, but dext'rous when they sack.
Wild Wolves in times of peace they are;
Tame sheep, and harmless, in the VVar.
Crowds fit to stop up breaches; and prevail
But so as shoals of Herrings choak a Whale.
This Dragon-Duke so nimbly fought to day,
As if he wings had got to stoop at Prey.
Ianthe is triumphant, but not gone;
And sees Rhodes still beleaguer'd, though not won.
Audacious Town! thou keep'st thy station still;
And so my Castle tarries on that Hill,
Where I will dwell till Famine enter Thee;
 And prove more fatal than my Sword could be.
Nor shall Ianthe from my favours run,
But stay to meet and praise what she did shun.
The Scene is chang'd to that of the Town Besieg'd.
Enter Villerius, Admiral, Ianthe.
She in a Night-Gown and a Chair is brought in.
Fair Vertne, we have found
No danger in your Wound.
And credit give
To us, and to the Surgeons Art.
Alas i my wound is in the Heart;
Or else, where e're it be,
Imprison'd life it comes to free,
By seconding a worser wound that hid doth lie:
What practice can assure
That Patient of a Cure,
Whose kind of grief still makes her doubt the remedy?
The wounded that would soon be eas'd
Should keep their spirits tun'd and pleas'd;
No discords should their mind subdue:
And who in such distress
As this, ought to express
More joyful harmony than you?
'Tis not alone that we assure
Your certain cure;
But pray remember that your blood's expence
Was in defence
 Of Rhodes, which gain'd to day a most important Victory:
For our success, repelling this Assault,
Has taught the Ottomans to halt;
Who may, wasting their heavy body, learn to fly.
Not only this should hasten your content,
But you shall joy to know the instrument
That wrought the triumph of this day;
Alphonso did the Sally sway;
To whom our Rhodes, all that she is does owe,
And all that from her Root of Hope can grow.
Has he so greatly done?
Indeed he us'd to run
As swift in Honour's Race as any He
Who thinks he merits Wreaths for Victory.
This is to all a comfort, and should be,
If he were kind, the greatest joy to me.
Where is my alter'd Lord? I cannot tell
If I may ask, if he be safe and well?
For whil'st all strangers may his actions boast,
VVho in their Songs repeat
The Triumphs he does get,
I only must lament his favours lost.
Some wounds he has; none desperate but yours;
Ianthe cur'd, his own he quickly cures.
If his be little, mine will soon grow less.
 Ay me! What Sword
Durst give my Lord
Those wounds, which now Ianthe cannot dress?
Ianthe will rejoyce when she did hear
How greater than himself he does appear
In rescue of her Life; all acts were slight,
And cold, even in our hottest Fight,
Compar'd to what he did,
When with Death's Vizard she her Beauty hid.
Love urg'd his anger, till it made such haste
And rusht so swiftly in,
That scarce he did begin
Ere we could say, the mighty work was past.
All this for me? somthing he did for you:
But when his Sword begun
Much more it would have done
If he, alas! had thought Ianthe true.
Be kind, Ianthe, and be well!
It is too pittifull to tell
What way of dying is exprest
When he that Letter read
You wrote before your Wounds were drest;
When you and we dispair'd you could recover:
Then he was more than dead,
And much out-wept a Husband and a Lover.
Enter Alphonso wounded, led in by two Mutes.
 Tear up my wounds! I had a passion coorse
And rude enough to strengthen Jealousie;
But want that more refin'd and quicker force
Which does out-wrestle Nature when we dye.
Turn to a Tempest all my inward strife:
Let it not last,
But in a blast
Spend this infectious vapour, Life!
It is my Lord! Enough of strength I feel,
To bear me to him, or but let me kneel.
He bled for me when he atchiev'd for you
This days success; and much from me is due.
Let me but bless him for his Victory,
And hasten to forgive him e'r I dye.
Be not too rash, Ianthe, to forgive.
Who knows but I ill use may make
Of pardons which I could not take
For they may move me to desire to live.
If ought can make Ianthe worthy grow
Of having pow'r of pard'ning you
It is, because she perfectly doth know
That no such pow'r to her is due.
Who never can forget her self, since she
Unkindly did resent your Jealousie.
A passion against which you nobly strove:
 I know it was but over-cautious love.
Accursed crime! Oh, let it have no name
Till I recover Bloud to shew my shame.
VVhy stay we at such distance when we treat?
As Monarchs children, making Love
By Proxy, to each other move,
And by advice of tedious Councils meet.
Keep back, Ianthe, for my strength does fail
VVhen on thy cheeks I see thy Roses pale.
Draw all the Curtains, and then lead her in;
Let me in darkness mourn away my sin.
Enter Roxolana, and Women Attendants.
Your looks express a triumph at our loss.
Can I forsake the Crescent for the Cross?
You wish my spreading Crescent shrunk to less.
Sultan, I would not lose by your Success.
You are a friend to the Besiegers grown!
I wish your Sword may thrive,
Yet would not have you strive
To take Ianthe rather than the Town.
Too much on wand'ring Rumour you rely;
Your foolish women teach you Jealousie.
We should too blindly confident appear,
If, when the Empress fears, we should not fear.
The Camp does breed that loud report
Which wakens Eccho in the Court.
 The world our Duty will approve,
If, for our Mistress sake,
We ever are awake
To watch the wand'rings of your Love.
My war with Rhodes will never have success,
Till I at home, Roxana, make my peace.
I will be kind, if you'l grow wise;
Go, chide your Whisp'rers and your Spies,
Be satisfy'd with liberty to think;
And, when you should not see me, learn to wink.
Chorus of Souldiers.
With a fine merry Gale,
Fit to fill ev'ry Sail,
They did cut the smooth Sea
That our skins they might flea:
Still as they Landed, we firkt them with Sallies;
We did bang their silk Shashes,
Through Sands and through Plashes
Till amain they did run to their Gallies.
They first were so mad
As they Jealousies had
That our Isle durst not stay,
But would float strait away;
For they Landed still faster and faster:
And their old Bassa Pirrhus
Did think he could fear us;
 But himself sooner fear'd our Grand-Master.
Then the hug'ous great Turk,
Came to make us more work;
With enow men to eat
All he meant to defeat;
Whose wonderfull worship did confirm us
In the fear he would bide here
So long till he Dy'd here,
By the Castle he built on Philermus.
You began the Assault
With a very long Hault;
And, as haulting ye came,
So ye went off as lame;
And have left our Alphonso to scoff ye.
To himself, as a Daintie,
He keeps his Ianthe;
VVhilst we drink good VVine, and you drink but Coffee.
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