University of Virginia Library

[Scene II.]

The Scene shifts into a Pallace.
Enter Oroandes, and Phylander.
Oro.
Why doe wee loyter here, mispend our time,
When Action Calls us to things more sublime?
Let's wave ye Court, where nought but Rapines dwell,
Hell's old Exchange! Here their false wares they sell;
Here stately Beauty Tryumphs, bears ye Sway,
Leads ye Fine, Easy, Strutting Fopp Astray!
And never leaves, till it does spirit him away.
'Twas but once that e're in Hist'ry wee read
That ye Bright Venus durst an Army Head.
She too came wounded home, would goe noe more;
Blushing, she retir'd, when she saw her gore.
Young Prince! What say you? Shall wee goe to war,
Tame all ye Nations that doe live afar,
Teach 'em Humanity?—

Phy.
You have my Heart, I'me ready to obey.
I'le follow, Sir, wheresoe're you lead ye way.

Oro.
Spoke like your self, and like my Freind.
[Embraces him.
But yet suppose wee such misfortune have
As in our wish'd for Wars to Find our Grave,
Wee cannot by a Nobler way bee great
Than when wee Falling grapple with our Fate.
If ye bold sons of Earth again should rise
And with vast mountains scale ye trembling sckys,
Jove, I am sure, to see how bravely wee dy'd,
Before his Thunder for to quell their pride,
Would nobely court our very souls unto his side.
Come, then, my dear Phylander, let's not stay,
But tread a rougher and more glorious way.

Phy.
Gallant Oroandes! Whose Active Soul
Extends its valour to ye farthest Pole,
All ye great western Kings and Monarks Fear;
Your very Name with Trembling they doe hear.
Proud Persia 'tis alone opposes you,
Or else ye world it self you might subdue.

Oro.
Oh that proud Persia durst oppose my force!
I'de Trample her to peices with my Horse.

Phy.
When once, dear Sir, they did begin to Neigh,
You would bee chosen King of Persia.
—Yet I doe wonder that she now alone
Should bee ye last t'adore ye Rising Sun.
When Kings and Emperours court you for their freind,
She noe obedience at all does send.

Oro.
Therefore wee'll all her glory's tumble down,
Levell her Turrets with ye humble ground.
Fate drunk with bloud shall lead us all ye Round.

Enter Juliana, Polynice, hand in hand, at ye other end of ye stage.
Phy.
Hah! what are those fair things which yonder walk?
Oh my heart! my Eyes! how pretely they talk!

Oro.
Oh! they are woemen! shun 'em, Woemen!

Phy.
Woemen! noe, they're Angels; look how they shine!
Ther's ne're a Part they have, but is devine.
When e're ye Oracle did at Delphos speak,
A sudden Trembling us'd my joints to take.
The same fit now uppon my joints is fell,
I Tremble at ye very words they tell,
As if their lips were to bee m' Oracle.
May I not goe kneel and pray?—
They seem as if they'de my Petition hear:
Such Angels never will deny my Prayer.

Oro.
Angels! they're Devils, murderers of men.
You see they came out of that dismall den.
«Hee loves 'em sure. I myself too must not stay.»
Come, O my dear Phylander, come away,
Or else wee both shall bee unman'd today.

Phy.
By Heavens! I am so fix'd I cannot move!
[Courts 'em in dumb shew, and Oroandes turns away.
O, stay a little! don't soe cruell prove;
I've yet not bid my charming Fair, Adeiue.
Stay a little, I'le doe as much for you.
Gods! can you goe away and leave mee soe?
Let dreadfull wars awhile bee out of mind,
And let Fair Venus come, who will bee Kind,
And mee another God of War you'le find.

Oro.
Farewell, then, Freindship, you and I must part.
I will not stay when you have lost your heart.
—«Who ever thought of this?»

Phy.
Ah! what a Killing Look was there! It came
Pointed with steel, and armed with a Flame:
I Dye! I Dye! Oh, say what e're you can,
Hee that resists such Beauty's more than man.

Oro.
Yet, yet return, before you're vanquis'd quite;
The way to Conquer here, is not to fight.
Hearken to reason. Ah, you're quite undone:
[Phy. moves on.
With much more Safety I'de on Canons run.
To war, to war I am resolv'd I'le goe,
And never think of Love but as a Foe,
Whilst you, poor soul, with crooked knee must bend
And always on your Mistris's pleasure tend.
Our Knot of Freindship too in Love will end.
Adeiue!—You are resolv'd—

Phy.
To love.

Oro.
Farewell
For ever too.

[Exit.
Phy.
«Oh, now begins my Hell.
It was unkindly done to leave mee soe
In ye very midst of ye Insulting Foe!
If Wars hee'd lov'd, hee might have stay'd with mee,
And have fought hard too for his Victory.»

Whilest Phylander stands talking to himself, ye two princesses goe off ye stage. As hee goes to follow 'em, two Cupids fly down, and stand before him, one like a handsome boy, ye other a young girl.
Boy.
Stand still, Rash Youth, and listen.

Girl.
Ah, my dear Lovely Youth.

Boy.
Ah, Faithless fair.

[Hee runs from her. She follows him. A soft air is play'd. Hee sings.
[Woeman]
(To bee spoken)
The smallest hair I have, shall bee thy chain,
And you shall live my slave, whil'st I doe Reign.

[Turns round, and fly's upp again.
Man.
(Spoken)
Let woemen doe what ere they will,
Poor doting man must follow still.
[Flys upp after her.
Yes, Yes, imperious Beauty! I'le obey
And my Devotions at your Altar pay.
But—let my glorious chains eternall bee
That I may never have my Liberty.

Juliana and Polynice enter to Phylander.
Phy.
«Once more I see ye Sun, but circl'd round
Hee shines, as when with awfull flames hee's crown'd.»
Forgive mee, Ladys! that I thus intrude;
It was my Ignorance that made mee rude.
It is but fitting that I then retire [Goeing.

And leave this place which gods themselves desire.

Poly.
Stay, gen'rous stranger! I command you stay.
Where Ladys come, d' yee use to goe away?

Phy.
Our ancient Bards did write, men ought to dye
When they approach'd Divinity too nigh.

Jul.
Heav'ns! Polynice, let's away for fear
This impudent unknown should come more near.
With foolish Preists hee'l now deceive us more
Than e're with Fables they did him before.

Poly.
Fye, sister, you're might'ly injurious grown.
«I wish hee still had been ye fair unknown.» [Apart.


Phy.
Hah, charming fair! to whome must I now pray?
At what bright Altar must my victim lay?
Or with th'Athenians must I worship blind
Gods, as unknown to mee, as I to them?
Ah, let then Ignorance noe more protect
What otherwise might well bee thought neglect.

Poly.
You look on mee soe much, as if you were
Train'd up only in ye Rough Courts of war.
Tell mee first what you are, and whence you came,
Soe you'le obleige mee too, to speak my Name.

Phy.
Madam, ye thing which made mee here resort
Was but to learn ye language of your court.
My Name's Phylander and my father Reigns
Over ye great and large Pharsalian Plains,
Renown'd for Battles—
Soe many thousands there one day did fall
That it could scarce suffice for graves for all,
Where Rigid fate, that she might tryumph more,
Put on her robes purpl'd with humane gore.
—But why doe I talk of such dreadfull things,
Of slauter'd monarcks and of murther'd Kings?
Such Subjects are not fit for you to hear.

Poly.
The telling of 'em, Sir, I never fear.
I pity those brave men, which you doe say
Soe early and untimely dropt away.
A better fate they should have had, if I
Had had ye ord'ring of their destiny.

Phy.
Ah, happy youths! I envy now your fall.
I wish that I had perish'd for you all.

Poly.
Pity's ye least wee ought for to bestow
On those, who perish'd by our Countrey's foe.
The Gods would doe but right, if they'de restore
What by severe decrees they took before.

Phy.
Ah, then, you charming Fair! compassion shew
And something for your wretch'd Phylander doe.
Pity those wounds which your fair eyes did dart
Nor doe disdain ye off'ring of my Heart.

Poly.
«What shall I doe? Love will prevail, I fear, [Apart.

Soe that I shall not half incens'd appear.
Bear up, my heart, I'le try.»
(To Phy.)
How dare you, Sir, talk of love to mee! [Imperiously.

Wretch! Slave!—then goe and from my Presence fly.
The next minute that I see you you must dye. [Milder.


Jul.
I told you hee was mad when first hee came.

Poly.
Who would have thought he durst have told his flame!
Court mee? a stranger? one that I don't know?
Court mee again!—Come, sister, let us goe.

Enter Trivia.
Tri.
Ladys, your father waits for you within
And wonders that you will this day bee seen.

Phy.
Heavens! that I should live to injure her
Whome before all ye Earth I doe prefer.
Forgive but now, I'le ne're again declare.
I'le wander where ye silent kingdoms are;
Thus, Madam, I will free you from my Love. [Draws.

(To Oro.)
Oh, my dear freind, doe not soe cruel prove.
[Looks back and sees Oroandes who hinders him.
It is her pleasure and she thinks it good
That my bold Crime I expiate with blood.
Noe longer, then, my glorious fate withstand,
But let mee bleed it all.

Poly.
Hold! stop your hand.
'Tis not thy life of thee that I require;
I am contented, that you would expire.
(To Jul.)
Come, sister—
Oh! I have something that lyes heavy here.

[Points to her breast.
Jul.
I wish that Prince Phylander bee not there.

[Exeunt, Poly. looking back.
[Manent Oroandes and Phylander.
Phy.
My Angel's gone. Had it not been for you
My soul had went unto her Heaven too.

Oro.
Is this your love? For shame, ne're love again,
But put a period to ye Tyrants Reign;
Never let Loves false light seduce you soe.
If I was you, I'de stab him at a blow.
Hee is unwise that once has shipwrack'd been
And yet will venture for ye sea again.
How great's then your insatiable desire,
That being scorch'd doe yet dread ye fire?

Phy.
Oh, doe not mee soe cruelly upbraid
Nor speak against that fair, and charming Maid.
Bid men in feavours from their drink dispence
Or teach ye Raging mad how to talk sence,
As soon may you persuade mee not to love.

Oro.
There's noe one wise your Passion will approve.

Phy.
The wise doe love at first, but loose again
What their strict former wisdome did obtain.
Th'Almighty Jove in love became a sot
And that hee e're the Thund'rer was forgot.
'Tis Religion then in us for to approve
That which our glorious Gods themselves doe love.

Oro.
Hold, Heretick to war! I myself will goe.
All Cupids statues to ye ground I'le throw,
Nor e're to's carved image will I bow.
When this I've done, I'le fight th'unbearded boy,
With his own flames his Godship will destroy,
And with my own, if I him conquer doe,
I shall revenge great war's god's quarrell too. [Exit.


Phy.
If ever any thing could love provoke,
You sure can never miss ye dreadfull stroke. [Exit.