University of Virginia Library

Scena Prima.

Enter Charastus.
Cha.
Not one tear more I'le spend for thee my sister;
It is a grief too light to solemnize thy exequies.
My heart in silence shall weep blood, when I remember
Desdonellas fate. Hence then effeminate tears:
Ye are too soft an expresser of my misery,
The senceless Trees but struck in favor by the Sun
Will do as much, and shall I when fortune darts
Her reall beams of malice, express no greater sorrow?
Yes, an inward bleeding is most dangerous,
That, that I will learn to practise.

Enter Fidelio.
Cha.
Fidelio! Let me embrace thee.
I do contain more worth within these arms
Than Atlas bears upon his shoulders. Speak dearest friend.
Where is Virtusus? living or 'mongst the dead?

Fid.
Alive too, but in prison.

Cha.
I'le free him instantly; I'le have my Crown again,
Too long Bermudo has usurp it: I'l break upon him,
Like some direfull Comet sparkling my vengeance
'Bout his Throne, or like a swelling channel long damn'd up
Will I discharge my streams on all sides of him,
Rushing forth with a strong and hideous torrent
As mischievous as irresistable.

Fid.
Forbid it Providence. Be not too rash fond man,
Religion, and your sacred Lawes oppose it.
You have indulg'd him all the Prerogatives of Majesty,
Crown'd him your self, and should you now
Lay violent hands upon him before his Crown is forfeited,
How would you violate your Laws, and scandall
Your Religion? Think what an easie president
'Twill be hereafter to your Subjects.

Cha.
Far be it from me to violate Religion:
I would not for the worlds vast Monarchy
Receive the morgag'd Crown before its forfeiture.
I'le wed Flavanda first, so doing
Religion seconds my attempts, and restores
The Diadem again unto me.

Fid.
Still you grow rasher: will you for a Crown
Receive a Serpent to your bosome? His Sister?
Will all your glory, and your high swoln titles
Make constant her that loves thee not.
Take heed, there's danger in't, great danger.

Cha.
Her Love's more constant than the Rocks,
Less blasted with the puffs of vain Ambition:
Nature has lost the mold where she was fram'd,
And cannot second what she did:
'Twas my Flavanda whom her curious hand
From all eternity strove to make perfect.

Fid.
Were she the exactest piece of Curiosity that ever
Admiration doated on, yet if she want a soul
Able for to govern all those excellencies,
We cannot stile her perfect (Perfection being
The unity of both most excellent) our Loves
Like to our selves are still terrestriall,
Reflecting only on the outward object,
Without regard of that divine and most celestiall
Fabrick of the soul We think
Those seeming spots within the Moon, meer motes
And blemishes, when indeed they are most pure,
And most pellucide; so on the contrary,
We deem all virtuous that is fair, and yet
The Moon is fair we must confess, yet she
Is only constant in Inconstancy.

Cha.
Can'st thou look virtuously on any thing that's fair?
Cans't thou behold dame Natures Masterpiece.
And no new Admiration swell thy enamourd fancie?
Can'st thou but seeme to court Divinity,
Or behold the Sun in all his glory, without a true
And reall Adoration? if so: Go court my best Flavanda.
Carry a thousand Ovids in thy tongue,
Let thy words melt to the winning'st eloquence
That e're enchanted Lady; Speak in thy highest phrase,
Thou canst not flatter her; she is as far beyond it,
As I come short of admiration,
And if all this does produce a tear,
Or sigh, more than in pity of thy folly,
I will as much abhor inconstancy,
As now I doate upon her excellence.

Fid.
I were injurious unto you, and to that Deity
That lies inshrin'd within those rayes, should I
Presume to approach but with a virtuous adoration.
No immodest thought shall once extract
An amorous glance, no rude word shall preach
Uncivill doctrin to her, nor any melting touch
Cast a delicious silence o're her body, whil'st
Her pleas'd eye retorts a second invitation:
All shall be truly harmless, all divine.
I'le lay a seeming siege against her constancy,
And if she bravely can maintain that fort,
I'le stile thee happy in thy humble choyce, happier
Than those that wed 'bove their aspiring fortunes,
Where every nod of the displeased wife
Clames an obedience in the Husband.

Cha.
On to thy wars then, but take heed,
Fly not too long about those flames, lest that
Thy melted wings like to a second Icarus
Throws thee down into a deadly Ocean of destruction,
Where thou must sink eternally: So Farewell.

Exeunt.