University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Alcibiades and Evanthe.
Alc.
“Lady, your noble father's grossly wrong'd:
“His fortune breeds a swarm of summer flies,
“Whose filthy buzzing fills his ears a-while,
“Till with the first cold blast that nips his blossoms,
“The flutt'ring insects take the wing, and leave him.

Evan.
“'Tis Lucius and Lucullus, whom you point at.

Alc.
“Chiefly at them, for they were last in sight;
“And 'tis but now I scar'd the drones away.

Evan.
“For that I am to thank you; my tir'd ears
“Had else been tortur'd with their dreams of love.

Alc.
“Their love? with Lucius, with Lucullus love?
“How sleeps the thunder when men scale the heavens!
“Yet who can see such beauty and not love?
“Our hearts must tell it, tho' our tongues keep silence.

Evan.
“Nay, my good Lord, no more of this, I pray you.
“She, who inspires thee with a private passion,
“Must be her country's foe.

Alc.
“Oh say not that—
“Must then your soldier toil without reward?
“Beauty, that son of bliss, that lights the world,
“And love, that lifts us equal to the gods,
“Say must these blessings be reserv'd alone
“To the soft sons of peace? Then war farewel!
“Take they who will, the chearless trade of arms,
“I envy not such honourable folly.

Evan.
“Yes, you have words to make each cause your own,
“Lips, which your master Socrates has tun'd
“To sounds, that soften, and persuade the soul:
“Oh, you're an apt disciple.

Alc.
“You mistake me;
“I am no courtier; have no wit, no cunning
“To wrap your heart in flattery's silken snare
“And hook it gently in, as some can do,
“Home-keeping youths, the idlers of the age,
“Smooth summer fops, that line your father's table
“With fashionable follies.—I've no art
“To pay your virtue reverence with my eyes,
“And wrong it with my heart; such as I am,
“Such nature form'd me; philosophic aid
“Nor gives, nor takes away; of nought I boast
“Save of a faithful, pure, and ardent love

Evan.
“O my caught heart, ah! whither wou'd you lead me?
“But come, my Lord, the hall begins to fill;
“If you'll commit yourself to such society
“As my poor thoughts can furnish, a short hour
“Frees you, and brings my father from the chace.”

[Exeunt.