 | The Enchanted Lovers |  |
SCENA I.
ISMENIA, THERSANDER, THIMANTES.ISMENIA.
'Tis true, Thersander, I have done for thee
As much as possibly I could, I made
Thy sighs, thy constancy, thy faith appear
For to perswade her, but I lost my labour,
Diana is insensible, her heart,
Which loves sweet applications cannot touch,
Among so many rocks, is become rock.
THERSANDER.
What shall I doe, Thimantes? what a rude
And rigorous fortune steers my destiny?
THIMANTES.
Quit that ingrateful, and come forth of slavery.
THERSANDER.
How shall I come forth? I'm born miserable
Under the frowning, and the fatal aspect
Of an ungentle Star, which in despight
Of all my studies to defend me from it;
Pursues Cleagenor under the name
Of poor Thersander.
ISMENIA.
Softly.
What is that I hear!
Good Gods!
THIMANTES.
Thersander, what hast thou discover'd?
Hath thy own mouth betrayed thus thy secret?
See into what great danger thy imprudence
Puts thee at present; fearest thou no more,
Nearchus, and his power?
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No, I fear nothing
After this sentence, but seek death, for since
It is resolv'd by fate that I must die,
What matter is it, by what arm it be,
Whether Nearchus, or Diana kill me.
Ismenia.
Oh Gods! how happy is he?—
softly.
Hath not she
For whom thou diest had some intelligence
That thy heart loves elsewhere? if it be so,
And that thy inconstancy procures thy torment,
Thou wrongfully accusest her of cruelty.
THERSANDER.
Quite contrary, this love where with thou seest
My heart disturb'd, is a sure testimony
Of my fidelity: 'tis true, alas!
I sometime lov'd an object of such beauty,
That the Gods never fram'd so fair a peece:
The Roses and the Lillies form'd the colour
Which dy'd her cheeks, and in her sparkling eys
The Sun was painted; to express unto thee
Yet better her divine perfections,
Diana is her Portrait to the life
Celia is seen in her; she like Diana
Had a Magestick carriage, she had
A mouth, and eys like her, she had an air,
Fierce too like hers, but amiable; lastly
In every thing she seem'd Diana's self:
My heart is constant therefore as before,
Since still I love her in her living Portrait.
I thought at first then, that her death was false,
And that Diana was that lovely object;
But when I saw Diana entertain
With such contempt the fervent love wherewith
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And infinite hatred, I perceiv'd my errour,
And said this is not Celia; so that
I saw well by her cruelties indeed
That I pursu'd her picture, and had passion
But for a Portrait.
Ismenia.
What! is Celia dead then?
ThersaNder.
Alas! that's my affliction, I saw her
Stretch'd out upon her death-bed dead, Ismenia;
And more dead yet then she, I saw those places
Shine with a certain rest of brightness which
Her eyes had darted: presently on this
I had a Combat with Nearchus for
This charming Beauty; that proud favourite
Unto the King by infamous desires,
Form'd him an object to his filthy pleasures,
This outrage was intended to her sweetness:
We fought on this occasion, it was
My fortune to disarm him; but the death
Of Celia, and the anger of the King,
(To save me from the rigor of the Law)
Enforc'd me to a flight, and made me wander
Seven year from Province unto Province: last-
Wearied to see the Court of every Prince,
I thought to free me of all dangers here
Under the feign'd name of Thersander, and
The habit of a Shepheard: to disguise me
Yet better, the afflictions of my heart
Have chang'd my Visage.
Ismenia.
Hast thou nothing with thee
That formerly was Celia's?
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Yes, one day
I receiv'd from her hand this pretious pledge
Of her unfeigned love, behold this Portrait,
And judge, I pray thee, if I love Diana,
Or Celia.
Ismenia.
Let me have this Portrait; with it
I'l cure thy evil, Diana seeing it
Will become gentle, I'l go shew it her.
THERSANDER.
What wilt thou do, Ismenia? but I see
Diana: O Gods! end my misery.
| The Enchanted Lovers | |