University of Virginia Library

Scena tertia.

Enter Roderiquez solus.
Vnhappy eye! which didst attract those beams,
To set my heart on fire! Unhappy eare!
Which didst with such a greedinesse suck in
The charmings of her lips! and then convey
Them through thy winding palace to my brain,
Which works and beats, as if the Cyclops held
Their Forge within my head: Unhappy man!
Thus to become a slave unto thy passion!
Confine these love-sick thoughts, or drive them out,
Lodge not such enemies within thy breast,
They'l be thy ruine! But (alas!) my power
Is transmigrated to anothers breast;
Yet would it were, so might I hope at length
My love might crowned be with good successe.
Dry up thy eyes.

Enter Chaves.
Cha.
Good morrow to you, Sir!
What passion hath surpriz'd you, that you seem
Another man? Eugenia's well, I hope.
Discover, friend, what strikes thee in these dumps;
Your eye betrayes you, somewhat is amisse,
Prithee what is't?

Rod.
Chaves, thou art my friend,
And 'twere a sin not to impart it to thee.
Here lately was a Lady, which my eye
No sooner did discover, but my heart
Was all involv'd in flames, a sudden ague
Seiz'd upon all my limbs, that to approach
Neerer, or speak I could not: in this extasie
I stood awhile unmoveable, till she
Quitted the place.

Cha.
What is she? ne're despair,
Have her thou shalt, though she were made of gold.

Rod.
Varina is her name, she's well endow'd
With all that Art or Nature can bestow;
That—

Cha.
Feed not thy self with these; prithee what is she?
Where lives she? Pray reveale it.

Rod.
Sir, her Father.
Was a rich Merchant of this famous Citie,
Who dying in the Indies, left this his Orphan
Sole heir to his estate; which he bequeath'd
Unto Alonza's care; he hath betroth'd her
Unto a foolish Lord, one Don Præpontio,
A man that hath more mony farre then wit!

Cha.
Expel these clouds of sorrow, wee'l make our wits
Outreach his wealth! Come! let us write a letter,
I'll have it safe convey'd; once get admittance,
And she's thine own.

Enter Varina.
Var.
Most sacred Goddesse, to whose sacred shrine
The greatest Kings, nay Jove himselfe hath bow'd,
Contain my passions, keep my sudden Love
Within the bounds of maiden modesty,
Sweet Roderiguez! now methinks I see
Majesty couched in thy serene brow,
Upon thy tongue enthroniz'd Eloquence
Within thy looks Cupid in's best array;
And when thou goest, the humble ground doth sinke,
As if submissive to thy stately Port;
But Stay! my Passions, stay; let's pawse awhile,
My affections must not leade me in a maze;
Discretion doth advise that Pallas rule,
And Cupid serve; she will me best direct
To my terrene Elysium, Pause awhile,
Listen to Judgments dictates; they are best.
The Carthaginian Princess lost her life,
And credit too by her too quick affection;
Phillis confiding in Demophoöns vowes
Did lay her Bridall pallet in the grave:
Repentance soone made Oenoës angry tongue
Condemn the rash credulity of her eares.
And so may I Varina, if I yeeld
To Passions hair-brain'd, wild instructions:
Then set a bay unto thy loves swift Current;
See his affections first, and if he prove
Loving to thee, Varina, do thou Love.
See, see the Object of my best respect;
Oh! did my heart enjoy that happinesse
As doth that Gentleman, whose subject ears
Such musick entertain, as hovering spheares
Yeild in their proper motions, his breath
Falls on his shoulders as doth Zephyrus
On Flora's party color'd vestments, ah!
Why doe I languish thus? I'll speake to him,
It is as fit for maids to court, as men;
If that the truth were rightly scann'd; but nicenesse
And Custome do forbid it; its no sinne
If well we weigh it in its proper ballance;
Then set the better foot before, and try,
(She goes forward, but flies back)
Oh! what exploit began I to attempt?
What, casting off the weed of modesty
To cloath my self with impudence? O fie!
Should it be said, Varina did disrobe
Her selfe of grace, and virgin-purity,
And turned masculine, to court a stranger?
No! back, base Cupid! thy Rhet'rick I scorn
Now in my second rumination, 't may be
That time will quench this burning Ætna in me,
Or heav'ns inspire him for to know my love:
Grant one of these ye Gods, and pitie me,
Afford your help in this extremitie.

Exit.
Cha.
Be it so, I'll send the letter.

Rod.
I hold the mission of a letter best,
One line, one sentence which premeditation,
Quickens, doth bear a greater prevalence
Then words extemporary can expect:
Words are like infants, whose unwelcome birth
(If premature) bring death unto their mother.

Cha.
Let it be so.—

Rod.
It shall be so, Apollo guide my pen,
And let thy Heliconian Fountains yeeld
Liquor unto it, that the thing I write
May there prevail, where rests my souls delight.

Exeunt.