University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Castor and Ariana.
Castor.
Forgive, fair Ariana, if I press
Untimely on your lonely Meditations:
Your Thoughts perhaps were bent on Objects, far
More pleasing than the Sight of Castor proves:
Tho' none more worthy sure to claim a part
In all your dear Ideas than my self;
If faithful Love deserves a kind regard.

Aria.
'Twere vain in me to urge your want of Worth;
You may have more than half your Sex beside,
And half my own be conscious of its Claim:
But my dull Eyes, indifferent to all,
Robb'd of their only pleasing Object, now
Have nought to do but weep.

Castor.
Shall trickling Tears
Then dim the Lustre of those radiant Orbs,
And rob the World of half the Charms it boasts?
Devoted to Despair, must Ariana
Pine on in hapless Plight, and endless Woe?
If all this Sorrow is a Tribute due
To disappointed Love! my Brother's Fate
No longer shall excite the friendly Tear:
The proudest of his Kind shall envy hence,
The Fall that so is wept by such bright Eyes!
But thus it shall not be; I'll interpose
[Advancing to her.
And break this settling Cloud of sullen Grief:
I'll chase away pale Anguish from thy Brow,
And reinstate the Loves and Graces there:
I'll melt thee into Rapture, rouse Desire—
My faithful Vows—

Aria.
No, Castor, hold them in:
I'll not receive what I shall ne'er repay.
Far worthier Maids than I may meet your Flame
With equal Ardour, and with equal Truth:
But, disappointed once of tender Hopes,
I now can trust no more.

Castor.
Why so severe
To love, and to your self, my Ariana?
Were all the Virtues that could warm your Heart
On one, one only Man conferr'd by Heav'n?
Cast in the self same Mould of Nature, I
May boast as bright a Stamp of Mind as Edmund.

Aria.
And brighter far; but Love has partial Sight,
And often overlooks the fairest Claim;
While underneath Deformity it finds
The strong magnetic Charm, and rivits there.
'Tis something in the Mind that Links our Hearts,
A Sympathy of Souls.

Castor.
Examine mine,
You'll find it full of Faith, of Love and you!
No holy Hermit, in extatic Raptures,
E'er glow'd with half that Ardour at a Shrine,
As does my Heart for you! Why will you then,
Less kind than Heav'n, reject my hallow'd Zeal?

Aria.
To what excess does Phrenzy lead thy Mind!
Forbear Comparisons so wild, prophane,
And full of Guilt and Folly: 'Tis in vain,
This fruitless, fond Pretence; these idle Vows.

Castor.
O cruel Ariana! are my Vows
My faithful Vows thus treated with Contempt?
Why will you kill me with indignant Looks?
Oh, Frowns more cutting than the sharpest Steel!
Here, scornful Maid, here take, O take my Sword,
And end the Life your Hatred makes a Curse.

Aria.
Go, Castor, range thro' all the wanton World;
There are a thousand Beauties to ensnare,
Who will with equal Warmth receive your Flame,
Then take Neglect as kindly as your Love.
There are of Women, or Report is false,
Who like your Sex, prove Passion in extreme;
Whose raging Raptures do, like flaming Spirits,
Exhaust themselves, and burn away to nothing.
There hunt for what will please: My dull Desires
Ne'er soar'd beyond a gentle Glow at most;
And now they're quite extinguish'd; Leave me then,
And beat about for more inviting Game;
A Conquest here but ill would pay your Toil.

Castor.
Oh, thou art all the earthly Good I seek:
Thou art the only Prize the World can give
To merit my Affection: Winter Suns,
And Summer Breezes, all the Sweets of Spring
And Flavours of the Autumn hang about Thee!
Oh, everlasting Fund of dear Delights,
Thus will I seize the Treasure to my Soul,
And riot in Eternity of Bliss!—

Aria.
Must I be tortur'd with these impious Sounds?
Will no Denial, no Repulse prevail?
Give o'er these mimic Raptures, Sir, and leave me:
Abrupt Resentment I would fain avoid;
Then go—or Rage—

Castor.
I cannot leave thee thus:
Oh, why will you suspect my faithful Vows?
Why will you drive me from you, cruel Maid?
Why will you look me dead?

Aria.
Be gon then, go;—
Nor more insult me with your odious Flame:
Thy Importunities still sharpen Hate;
And force my Tongue,—unwilling to offend,
To tell thee thou art hateful to my Sight:
That Toads and Vipers less offend my Eyes;
That Hoots of Owls, and Shrieks of hideous Bats
Are Music in my Ears, to Sounds like thine.

Castor.
Does faithful Love deserve Returns like these?
Ungrateful Ariana, to reproach
And scorn the Heart your Beauty has enslav'd:
Nor is my Passion all my fond Pretence
To liking from thee, for, indignant Fair,
Know that your Father has approv'd my Flame:
Yes, venerable Felix bids me hope,
And on that Hope I'll build.

Aria.
My Father may,
At Will, dispose of Power, Wealth and Honours,
Which should by right devolve from him to me:
But can a Parent give a Child's Affections?
Can he at Choice bequeath a Daughter's Love?
No, foul Pretender, that is mine to yield;
And is a Jewel of too high a Price,
For ought but Worth to wear.

Castor.
With modest Pride,
Then let me here assert an humble Right—

Aria.
To Scorn, Contempt, Derision and Reproach:—
But whither runs Resentment? let not Rage,
Provok'd by base Hypocrisy and Guilt,
Destroy the Softness of a Virgin's Mind!
Then leave me, Hypocrite.

Castor.
So haughty still?
Go on; you seem to mend in Malice much.

Aria.
I am no Stranger, if my Father is,
To all the foul Reports of Castor's Fame.

Castor.
Hah! talks the World?—then rot the Tongue that utters,
Or Eye that sees what I would have conceal'd:
I must have fair Report; I've much to do:
And Mischief aid me if my Cunning fails.
[Aside.
Whatever Lyes or legendary Tales
May taint my spotless Deeds; the Guilt, the Shame
Will back revert on the Inventor's Head:
Truth will, like Oil with baser Liquors mixt,
Still mount the Topmost, to a fair Display!
And baffle Malice, Prejudice and Guilt.
A little Time, mistaken Maid, may shew
How much your frail Opinion is misled:
'Till when my suff'ring Love will patient bear,
In expectation of a just Reward.
Adieu, hard-judging Fair, and, oh, believe
I'd hate you from Resentment,—if I could.