University of Virginia Library

Scene the First.

A Castle or Prison on the Sea.
After a little playing on the Lute—
Enter Orsames with his Arms across looking melancholy, followed by Geron with a Lute in his hand.
Ors.
I do not like this Musick;
It pleases me at first,
But every touch thou giv'st that's soft and low
Makes such impressions here,
As puzzles me beyond Philosophie
To find the meaning of;
Begets strange notions of I know not what,
And leaves a new and unknown thought behind it,
That does disturb my quietness within.

Ger.
You were not wont to think so.

Ors.
'Tis true—
But since with time grows ripe and vigorous,
And will be active, though but ill employ'd.
—Geron, thou'st often told me,
That this same admirable frame of Nature,
This order and this harmony of things,
Was worthy admiration,
—And yet thou sayst all men are like to us,
Poor, insignificant Philosophers.
I, to my self could an Idea frame,
Of man, in much more excellence.
Had I been Nature, I had varied still,
And made such different characters of men,
They should have bow'd and made a God of me,
Ador'd, and thank'd me for their great creation:
—Now, tell me, who's indebted to her bounties?
Whose needless blessings we despise, not praise.

Ger.
Why, what wou'd you have done had you been Nature?

Ors.
Some men I wou'd have made with mighty Souls,
With thoughts unlimited by Heaven or Man;
I wou'd have made 'em—as—thou paint'st the Gods.

Ger.
What to have done?

Ors.
To have had dominion o'er the lesser world,
A sort of men with low submissive Souls,
That barely should content themselves with life,
And should have had th'infirmities of men,
As fear, and awe, as thou hast of the Gods;
And those I wou'd have made as numberless
As Curls upon the face of yonder Sea,
Of which each blast drives Millions to the Shoar,
Which vanishing, make room for Millions more.

Ger.
But what if these, so numerous, though so humble,
Refuse obedience to the mighty few?

Ors.
I would destroy them, and create anew.
—Hast not observ'd the Sea?
Where ev'ry Wave that hastens to the Bank,
Though in its angry course it overtake a thousand petty ones,
How unconcern'd 'twill triumph o'er their ruine,
And make an easie passage to the Shore,—

Ger.
Which in its proud career 'twill roughly kiss,
And then 'twill break to nothing.

Ors.
Why, thou and I, though tame and peaceable,
Are mortal, and must unregarded fall:
—Oh that thought! that damn'd resistless thought!
Methinks it hastens fate before its time,
And makes me wish for what I fain wou'd shun.

Ger.
Appease your self with thoughts of future bliss.

Ors.
Future bliss! the Dreams of lazy Fools;
Why did my Soul take habitation here,
Here in this dull unactive piece of Earth!
Why did it not take wing in its Creation,
And soar above the hated bounds of this?
What does it lingring here?

Ger.
To make it self fit for that glorious end
'Twas first design'd for,—
By patient suffering here.

Ors.
But Geron, still to live! still thus to live
In expectation of that future bliss,
(Though I believ'd it) is a sort of vertue
I find the Gods have not inspir'd me with.

Ger.
Philosophie will teach you, Sir—

Ors.
Not to be wise, or happy—
I'll hear no more of your Philosophie.
—Leave me—For I, of late desire to be without thee.

Ger.
This disobedience, Sir, offends the Gods—

Ors.
Let 'em do their worst,
For I am weary of the life they gave.

Ger.
He grows too wise to be impos'd upon,
And I unable to withstand his reasons.—

[Ger. goes out.
[Ors. lies down on the ground.
Enter Urania, and Keeper.
Keeper.

This Ring is sufficient warrant, and the Path on your right hand will
lead you to the Lord Amintas—but have a care you advance no further that
way.—

[Keeper exit.
Ura.
What strange disorder does possess my Soul!
And how my bloud runs shivering through my Veins,
As if alas 't had need of all its aid,
At this encounter with my dear Amintas.

Ors.
Ha! what noise is that?

[He rouzes.
Ura.
I heard a voice that way—or else it was the fear
This gloomy place possesses all that enter it:
—Stay, I was forbad that walk—
—Heav'ns! I have forgot which 'twas I should have taken,
I'll call my Love to guide me—Amintas, Amintas—

Ors.
What voice is that?
Methought it had more sweetness in't than Gerons—
[Rises, gazes, then runs fiercely to her.
—Ha—what charming thing art thou?

Ura.
'Tis not Amintas—yet I should not fear,
He looks above the common rate of men.
—Sir, can you direct my way—
To find a Prisoner out they call Amintas?

Ors.
—Oh Gods! it speaks, and smiles, and acts like me!
It is a man, a wonderous lovely man!
Whom Nature made to please me.
—Fair thing, pray speak again:
Thy Voice has Musick in't that does exceed
All Geron's Lutes, pray bless my Ears again.

Ura.
Sir, as you're Noble, as you are a Gentleman,
Instruct me where to find my Lord Amintas.

Ors.
Bright Creature! sure thou wert born i'th' upper world,
Thy Language is not what we practise here;
Speak on, thou harmony to every Sense,
Ravish my Ear as well as sight and touch.

Ura.
Surely he's mad—nay, Sir, you must not touch me.

Ors.
Perhaps thou art some God descended hither,
[Retires and bows.
And cam'st to punish, not to bless thy Creatures;
Instruct me how to adore you so,
As to retain you here my houshold-God,
And I and Geron still will kneel and pray to you.

Ura.
Alas, I am a woman.

Ors.
A Woman! what's that?
Something more powerful than a Deity;
For sure that word awes me not less than t'other.

Ura.
What can he mean—oh I shall die with fear—
[Aside.
—Sir, I must leave you.

Ors.
Leave me! oh no, not for my future being!
You needs must live with me, and I will love you;
I've many things that will invite you to't:
I have a Garden compass'd round with Sea,
Which ev'ry day shall send fresh Beauties forth,
To make thee Wreaths to crown thy softer Temples.
Geron shall deck his Altars up no more;
The gawdy Flowers shall make a Bed for thee,
Where we will wanton out the heat o'th' day—
What things are these, that rise and fall so often?
[Touches her Breasts.
Like Waves, blown gently up by swelling Winds;
Sure thou hast other wonders yet unseen,
Which these gay things maliciously do hide.

Ura.
Alas, I am undone, what shall I do?—

[Aside.
Ors.
—Nature, thy conduct's wise! nor could thy favours
Be giv'n to one more apprehensive of 'em!
—Say, lovely Woman! for I am all on fire,
Impatient of delay,
Can you instruct me what I am to do?
[Sighs.
Undress, and let me lead thee to my Bed.

Ura.
Alas, Sir, what to do? defend me Heav'n!

[Aside.
Ors.
Why, I will hold thee—thus, between my Arms,
—I'll see thee sleep, and wonder at thy form,
—Then wake thee to be gazing on thy Eyes,
—And something more—but yet I know not what.

Ura.
His whole discourse amazes me,
And has more ignorance than madness in't:
—But how shall I get free?

Ors.
Thou grow'st impatient too, come, let us in—

[Goes to take her in; she strives to get free; he struggles with her.
Ura.
Hold off, you are too rude.

Ors.
This is the prettiest play I e'er was at,
But I shall gain the better.—

[Takes her in his arms to carry her off.
Ura.
Help, help.

Enter Amintas in Fetters.
Amin.
A womans voice!—Villain, unhand the Lady.

Ors.
Ha! what new thing art thou?

Amin.
One sent from Heav'n to punish Ravishers.—

[Snatches Ura. while Ors. is gazing on him.
Ors.
Thou'st call'd up an unwonted passion in me,
And these be the effects on't—

[Ors. strikes him: they struggle and fall.
Enter Geron.
Ger.
Hah! what's the matter here? a woman too!
We are undone—Madam, I pray retire—
[Ura. goes into Amin. Apartment.
For here's no safety for your Sex.

Ura.
I gladly take your Counsel.

Ors.
What art thou?

Amin.
That which I seem to be.

Ors.
Then thou'rt a God; for till I saw a woman,
I never saw a thing so fine as thou:
And 'tis but just thou should'st be more than mortal,
That durst command that Creature from my Arms.

Amin.
It is the King—I know it by his Innocence and Ignorance—
[Aside.
—Rise, I beseech you, Sir, and pardon me.

Ors.
Sure I could live a year with looking on thee;
—But where's the Creature call'd it self a Woman?

Ger.
What woman, Sir?

Ors.
Ha! Geron, where's the woman?

Ger.
What do you mean, Sir?

Ors.
The Heavenly woman! that was here but now.

Ger.
I saw none such, nor know I what you mean.

Ors.
Not what I mean? thou could'st not be so dull:
What is't that I have strove for all this while?

Amin.
I'll leave him too, my presence may be hurtful,
And follow the Lady that's fled to my Apartment.

[Amin. Exit.
Ors.
Go, fetch the woman, or by Heaven I'll fling thee into the Sea.

Ger.
I must delude him.

[Aside.
Ors.
Fly, why stayst thou dully here? and bring the woman.

Ger.
Sure you are Frantick.

Ors.
I am so, and thou shalt feel th'effects on't,
Unless thou render back that lovely Creature.

Ger.
Oh! this is perfect madness, Sir, you are lost;
Call back your Noble Temper, and be calm.

Ors.
No, there's a furious Tempest in my soul,
Which nothing can allay but that fine thing.

Ger.
Hear reason yet—no Humane being can get entrance here:
Look round this Castle, and no other Object
Will meet your Eyes, but a watery Wilderness,
And distant and unhabitable Lands:
—What Airy Vision has possess'd your fancy?
For such the Gods sometimes afflict men with.

Ors.
Ha! an Airy Vision!—oh but it cannot be;
By all that's good, 'twas real Flesh and Bloud.

Ger.
And are you sure you were awake?

Ors.
As thou art now.

Ger.
Then 'twas an Apparition.

Ors.
Away,—thou'st often told me of such fooleries,
And I as often did reprove thee for't.

Ger.
From whence, or how should any living thing get hither?

Ors.
It dropt, perhaps, from Heaven, or how I know not;
But here it was, a solid living thing:
You might have heard how long we talk'd together.

Ger.
I heard you talk, which brought me to this place,
And found you struggling on the ground alone:
But what you meant I know not.

Ors.
—'Tis so—I grant you that it was a Vision—
—How strong is Fancy!—yet—it is impossible—
Have I not yet the musick of its words?
Like answering Ecchoes less'ning by degrees,
Inviting all the yielding sense to follow;
Have not my Lips (that fatally took in—
Unrest from ev'ry touch of that fair Hand)
The sweet remains of warmth receiv'd from thence,
Besides the unerring witness of my eyes?
And can all these deceive me? tell me, can they?

Ger.
Most certainly they have.

Ors.
Then, let the Gods take back what they so vainly gave.

Ger.
Cease to offend, and they will cease to punish.

Ors.
But why a Woman? cou'd they secure my Faith
By nothing more afflicting?

Ger.
Shapes divine are most perplexing.
To Souls, like yours, whom terrours cannot fright,
It leaves desires of what it cannot gain,
And still to wish for that—
Is much the greatest torment of the mind.

Ors.
Well said—but Geron, thou'st undone thy aim,
And us'd the onely argument cou'd invite me
T'offend again, that thus I might be punisht:
The Gods themselves invite me to the sin;
Not see'ng a Woman, I ne'er had guilty bin.

[Exeunt.