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religion_n good_a king_n subject_n 3,003 5 6.4581 4 false
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A69868 Don Sebastian, King of Portugal a tragedy, acted at the Theatre Royal / written by Mr. Dryden. Dryden, John, 1631-1700. 1690 (1690) Wing D2262; ESTC R16736 85,331 150

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Affricans to hear Whatever he dare Preach Dor. You know 'em not The genius of your Moors is mutiny They scarcely want a Guide to move their madness Prompt to rebel on every weak pretence Blustring when courted crouching when opprest Wise to themselves and fools to all the World Restless in change and perjur'd to a Proverb They love Religion sweetn'd to the sense A good luxurious palatable faith Thus Vice and Godliness prepost'rous pair Ride cheek by joul but Churchmen hold the Reins And when ere Kings wou'd lower Clergy greatness They learn too late what pow'r the Preachers have And whose the Subjects are the Mufti knows it Nor dares deny what pass'd betwixt us two Emp. No more what ere he said was by Command Dor. Why then no more since you will hear no more Some Kings are resolute to their own ruin Emp. Without your medling where you are not ask'd Obey your Orders and dispatch Sebastian Dor. Trust my revenge be sure I wish him dead Emp. What mean'st thou what 's thy wishing to my will Dispatch him rid me of the Man I loath Dor. I hear you Sir I 'll take my time and do 't Emp. Thy time what 's all thy time what 's thy whole life To my one hour of ease no more replies But see thou do'st it Or Dor. Choak in that threat I can say Or as loud Emp. 'T is well I see my words have no effect But I may send a Message to dispose you Is going off Dor. Expect an answer worthy of that Message Muf. The Prophet ow'd him this Aside And thank'd be Heav'n he has it Bend. By Holy Alha I conjure you stay And judge not rashly of so brave a Man Draws the Emperor aside and whispers him I 'll give you reasons why he cannot execute Your Orders now and why he will hereafter Muf. Benducar is a fool to bring him off Aside I 'll work my own revenge and speedily Bend. The Fort is his the Soldiers hearts are his A thousand Christian Slaves are in the Castle Which he can free to reinforce his pow'r Your Troops far off beleaguering Larache Yet in the Christians hands Emp. I grant all this But grant me he must dye Bend. He shall by poyson 'T is here the deadly drug prepar'd in powder Hot as Hell fire then to prevent his Soldiers From rising to revenge their Gen'rals death While he is struggling with his Mortal pangs The Rabble on the sudden may be rais'd to seize the Castle Emp. Do 't 't is left to thee Bend. Yet more but clear your brow for he observes They whisper again Dor. What will the Fav'rite prop my falling fortunes O Prodigie of Court Aside Emperor and Benducar return to Dorax Emp. Your Friend has fully clear'd your Innocence I was too hasty to condemn unheard And you perhaps too prompt in your replies As far as fits the Majesty of Kings I ask excuse Dor. I 'm sure I meant it well Emp. I know you did this to our love renew'd Emperor drinks Benducar fill to Dorax Benducar turns and mixes a powder in it Dor. Let it go round for all of us have need To quench our heats 't is the Kings health Benducar He drinks And I wou'd pledge it though I knew 't were poyson Bend. Another Bowl for what the King has touch'd Drinks out of another Bowl And you have pledg'd is sacred to your loves Muf. Since Charity becomes my calling thus Let me provoke your friendship and heav'n bless it As I intend it well Drinks and turning aside pours some drops out of a little Vial into the Bowl then presents it to Dorax Dor. Heav'n make thee honest On that condition we shall soon be friends Drinks Muf. Yes at our meeting in another World Aside For thou hast drunk thy passport out of this Not the Nonacrian fount nor Lethe's Lake Cou'd sooner numb thy nimble faculties Than this to sleep eternal Emp. Now farewel Dorax this was our first quarrel And I dare prophesie will prove our last Exit Emperor with Benducar and the Mufti Dor. It may be so I 'm strangely discompos'd Quick shootings through my limbs and pricking pains Qualms at my heart Convulsions in my nerves Shiv'rings of cold and burnings of my entrails Within my little World make medley War Lose and regain beat and are beaten back As momentary Victors quit their ground Can it be poyson poyson's of one tenour Or hot or cold this neither and yet both Some deadly Draught some enemy of life Boils in my bowels and works out my Soul Ingratitude 's the growth of ev'ry Clime Affrick the Scene remov'd is Portugal Of all Court-service learn the common lot To day 't is done to morrow 't is forgot Oh were that all my honest Corps must lye Expos'd to scorn and publick Infamy My shameful Death will be divulg'd alone The worth and honour of my Soul unknown Exit Scene 2. Is a Night Scene of the Mufti 's Garden where an Arbour is discover'd Enter Antonio Ant. SHE names her self Morayma the Mufti 's only Daughter and a Virgin This is the time and place that she appointed in her letter yet she comes not Why thou sweet delicious Creature why to torture me with thy delay dar'st thou be false to thy Assignation What in the cool and silence of the night and to a new Lover Pox on the Hypocrite thy Father for instructing thee so little in the sweetest point of his Religion Hark I hear the rustling of her Silk Mantle Now she comes now she comes no hang 't that was but the whistling of the wind through the Orange Trees Now again I hear the pit a pat of a pretty foot through the dark Alley No 't is the Son of a Mare that 's broken loose and munching upon the Melons Oh the misery of an expecting Lover Well I 'll e'en despair go into my Arbour and try to sleep in a dream I shall enjoy her in despight of her Goes into the Arbour and lyes down Enter Johayma wrapt up in a Moorish Mantle Joh. Thus far my love has carry'd me almost without my knowledg whither I was going Shall I go on shall I discover my self What an injury am I doing to my old Husband Yet what injury since he 's old and has three Wives and six Concubines besides me 'T is but stealing my own Tythe from him She comes a little nearer the Arbour Antonio raising himself a little and looking At last 't is she this is no illusion I am sure 't is a true She-devil of Flesh and Blood and she cou'd never have taken a fitter time to tempt me Joh. He 's young and handsome Ant. Yes well enough I thank nature Aside Joh. And I am yet neither old nor ugly sure he will not refuse me Ant. No thou mayst pawn thy Maiden-head upon 't he wonnot Aside Joh. The Mufti wou'd feast himself upon other Women and keep me fasting Ant. O the holy Curmudgeon Aside Joh. Wou'd Preach abstinence