 | The Blind Lady |  |
101
SCEN. 2.
Enter Phylanter, Lycespes.Phyl.
Come Lycespes, is the alarme given
To amuse them on t'other side?
Lyc.
Yes.
Phyl.
What resistance does appear?
Lyc.
As yet all's wrapt in silence.
Phyl.
Where did the messenger say my Father was?
Lyc.
At hand Sir with 5000 men; wer't not best
We should defer the storm till then?
Phyl.
By no means; we will attempt it first,
For by that time they may have relief
Come from the Court, my father's suddain flight
Confirm'd the least suspition, helpt by the Princesse too.
Lyc.
It could not chuse, you have thrust your self
Into a troubled Ocean:
Phyl.
I know it, and now must sink or else go on,
There is no choice in Crimes but of our Fate,
The affrighting freedom of a wretched state.
We cannot hope ere to return again
Back on our fancies to our first conditions,
What rob'd us of the safety we enjoyd
First made us to contemne it;
'Tis a stayd gamester too, that would give o're
Upon the losing-hand; the most metl'd, or let it be
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Venter to tire Fortune or himself.
We have bargain'd now, and chop't a Peace for War
'Twere foolish to depend on ought but Victorie;
For that will change our acts, or others natures:
The vanquish'd wear the crimes, and all will fear
To judge or question what they too must bear.
This slender glosse I know must startle thee
That has so much of honesty and courage;
And if we fail I'le quarrell with my self
That cousend thee to follow what thou once
Didst love with honour: fearing to be unjust
To friendship, made thee more unto thy self:
I have used thee as some that have seduced
Young men into bad company, thou hast found
Things much unworthy of thee—
Lyc.
Tis true, dear Sir, I will not face a lye:
Our acts have given me both amaze and trouble,
The last I threw behind me, may the World
Forget the rest, there is a Fate hangs over all
That shews it's force when it resolves to strike
When we can act at once, at once dislike,
And t'is the sad necessity that we must
Persist in crimes again to reach the good
That you intend; this nobly does deserve
My friendship now, and if we fail
—The world may yet believe
Our thought's were better, let them chuse to grieve.
Phyl.
Set on then, brave Lycespes, danger not found
Women fright children with, and perills met
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But an unhappy treasurie for our cares,
Made monstrous by our joys, the hopes and fears
That spring from them, onely the stock we spend on.
This cannot add, I know, to thee; and I should blush
If it could ought to me. But 'tis mens pleasure
To undervalue what they think will go,
And they must loose—the world's fond nature's so;
And 'tis the bravest scorn ill men can have,
To change this world, as freely for a grave.
[Exeunt.
| The Blind Lady | |