King. Will nothing fatisfie but all?
Arm. Without all, nothing.
The Kingdome and not under suites our blood,
Flyes are are not Eagles preyes nor thankes our food:
And for Cilicia our other spheare,
Our sonne Zenarchus let thy beames move there.
Zen. Rather, my Lord, let me mave pitty here,
Vnto that reverend fate-afflicted King;
For whom, with disconsolate sonne (my friend
And plighted Brother) I here kneele as Sutor.
Oh my most Noble Father, still retaine
The seale of honour and religion,
A Kingdome rightly possessed by course,
Containes more joy than is usurpt by force.
Arm. The Boy hath almost chang'd us.
Maz. He cooles - my Lord, remember you are possess'd.
Arm. What, with the Devill?
Max. The Devill I the Dukedome, the Kingdome, Lydia.
All pant under your Scepter; the sway's yours,
Be not bought out with words, a Kingdome's deare,
Kisse fortune, keepe your minde, and keepe your state,
Y'are laught at if you prove compassionate.
Arm. Thankes to Mazeres, he hath refresht our spirits,
Zenarchus, 'tis thy death if thou proceede,
Thy words we threate, rife silent or else bleed.
King. who can expect but blood where Tyrants governe?
Arm. We are not yet so cruell to thy fortune
As was Lapyrus, thy owne Nephew, trecherous;
That stole upon thy life, beseig'd thee basely,
And had betra, 'd thee to thine enemies anger
Had we not beate his strength to his owne throate;
And made him shrinke before us, all can tell
In him twas monstrous, tis in us but well;
A tricke of warre, advantage, policy, nay rather recompence;
There's more deceite in peace, tis common there
T' unfold young heires, the old may well stand bare.
You have your life, be thankefull, and tis more
Than your perfidious Nephew would confent to,
Had
