Gycia: A Tragedy in Five Acts
Laden with all our love, reels madly on

To shipwreck and to ruin. From the North,

Storm-cloud on storm-cloud issuing vollies forth

Fresh thunderbolts of war. The Emperor

Dallies within his closed seraglios,

Letting his eunuchs waste the might of Rome,

While the fierce Scythian, in a surge of blood,

Bursts on our bare-swept plains. Upon the South,

Our rival Cherson, with a jealous eye,

Waits on our adverse chances, taking joy

Of her republican guile in every check

And buffet envious Fortune deals our State,

Which doth obey a King. Of all our foes

I hate and dread these chiefly, for I fear

Lest, when my crown falls from my palsied brow,

3

3

My son Asander's youth may prove too weak

To curb these crafty burghers. Speak, I pray thee,

Most trusty servant. Can thy loyal brain


 Prev. P 6/208 next 
Back Top
Privacy Statement Terms of Service Contact