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And feeds upon the baneful tree of hell,
That Zoacum", that fruit of bitterness,
That in the midst of fire is engraff'd,
Yet flourishes as Flora in her pride,
With apples like the heads of damned fiends.
The devils there, in chains of quenchless flame,
Shall lead his soul through Orcus' burning gulph,
From pain to pain, whose change shall never end.
What say'st thou yet, Gazellus, to his foil
Which we referr'd to justice of his Christ,
And to his power, which here appears as full
As rays of Cynthia to the clearest sight?
Gaz. "Tis but the fortune of the wars, my lord,
Whose power has often prov’d a miracle.
ORc. Yet in my thoughts shall Christ be honoured,
Not doing Mahomet an injury,
Whose pow'r had share in this our victory;
And since this miscreant hath disgrac'd his faith,
And died a traitor both to heaven and earth,
We will, both watch and ward shall keep his trunk
Amidst these plains for fowls to prey upon.
Go, Uribassa, give it straight in charge.
URI. I will, my lord. [Erit.
ORc. And now, Gazellus, let us haste and meet
Our army, and our brothers, of Jerusalem,
Of Syria, Trebizond, and Amasia,
And happily with full Natolian bowls
Of Greekish wine, now let us celebrate
Our happy conquest, and his angry fate. [Ereunt.

* 204cum or Zakkim.—The description of this tree is taken from a fable in the Koran, chap. 37.

SCENE III. ZeNocRAt E is discovered in her Bed of State; TAMbu RLA IN E sitting by her; three PHY's IcIANs about her bed, tempering potions; THERIDAMAs, Tech Elles, UsuMcAs AN E, and the three Sons. TAMB. Black is the beauty of the brightest day; The golden ball of Heaven's eternal fire, That danc'd with glory on the silver waves, Now wants the fuel that inflam'd his beams; And all with faintness, and for foul disgrace, He binds his temples with a frowning cloud, Ready to darken earth with endless night. Zenocrate, that gave him light and life, Whose eyes shot fire from their ivory bowers, And temper'd every soul with lively heat, Now by the malice of the angry skies, Whose jealousy admits no second mate, Draws in the comfort of her latest breath, All dazzled with the hellish mists of death. Now walk the angels on the walls of heav'n, As centinels to warn th’ immortal souls To entertain divine Zenocrate. Apollo, Cynthia, and the ceaseless lamps That gently look'd upon this loathsome earth Shine downward now no more, but deck the heavens To entertain divine Zenocrate. The crystal spring, whose taste illuminates Refined eyes with an eternal sight, Like tried silver, runs through Paradise,

To entertain divine Zenocrate.
The cherubims and holy seraphims,
That sing and play before the King of Kings,
Use all their voices and their instruments
To entertain divine Zenocrate.
And in this sweet and curious harmony,
The God that tunes this music to our souls,
Holds out his hand in highest majesty
To entertain divine Zenocrate.
Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts
Up to the palace of th’ empyreal heav'n,
That this my life may be as short to me
As are the days of sweet Zenocrate.
Physicians, will no physic do her good?
Phys. My lord, your majesty shall soon perceive :
And if she pass this fit, the worst is past. -
TAM B. Tell me, how fares my fair Zenocrate 2
Ze No. I fare, my lord, as other empresses.
That, when this frail and transitory flesh
Hath suck'd the measure of that vital air
That feeds the body with his dated health,
Wane with enforc'd and necessary change.
TAM B. May never such a change transform my love,
In whose sweet being I repose my life,
Whose heavenly presence, beautified with health,
Gives light to Phoebus and the fixed stars 1
Whose absence makes the sun and moon as dark
As when, oppos'd in one diameter,
Their spheres are mounted on the serpent's head,
Or else descended to his winding train.

Live still, my love, and so conserve my life,
Or, dying, be the author of my death !
ZEso. Live still, my lord! Oh, let my sovereign live!
And sooner let the fiery element
Dissolve and make your kingdom in the sky,
Than this base earth should shroud your majesty:
For should I but suspect your death by mine,
The comfort of my future happiness,
And hope to meet your highness in the heavens,
Turn'd to despair, would break my wretched breast,
And fury would confound my present rest.
Butlet me die, my love; yes, let me die;
With love and patience let your true love die!
Your grief and fury hurt my second life.—
Yet let me kiss my lord before I die,
And let me die with kissing of my lord.
But since my life is lengthen'd yet awhile,
Let me take leave of these my loving sons,
And of my lord, whose true nobility
Have merited my latest memory.
Sweet sons, farewell In death resemble me,
And in your lives your father's excellency.
Some music, and my fit will cease, my lord.
[They call for music.
TAM B. Proud fury, and intolerable fit,
That dares torment the body of my love,
And scourge the scourge of the immortal God:
Now are those spheres, where Cupid us’d to sit,
Wounding the world with wonder and with love,
Sadly supply'd with pale and ghastly death,

Whose darts do pierce the centre of my soul.
Her sacred beauty hath enchanted heaven;
And had she liv'd before the siege of Troy,
Helen, (whose beauty summon'd Greece to arms,
And drew a thousand ships to Tenedos)
Had not been nam'd in Homer's Illiades;
Her name had been in ev'ry line he wrote.
Or had those wanton poets, for whose birth
Old Rome was proud, but gaz'd awhile on her,
Nor Lesbia nor Corinna had been nam’d;
Zenocrate had been the argument
Of ev'ry epigram or elegy.

[The music sounds.-Zenocrate dies.
What! is she dead? Techelles, draw thy sword
And wound the earth, that it may cleave in twain,
And we desend into th’ infernal vaults,
To hale the fatal sisters by the hair,
And throw them in the triple moat of hell,
For taking hence my fair Zenocrate.
Casane and Theridamas, to arms :
Raise cavalieros" higher than the clouds,
And with the cannon break the frame of heav'n ;
Batter the shining palace of the sun,
And shiver all the starry firmament,
For am’rous Jove hath snatch'd my love from


Meaning to make her stately queen of heaven.
What God soever holds thee in his arms,
Giving thee nectar and ambrosia,

* Cavalieros---cavalier, French; a platform for great guns.

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