University of Virginia Library

Sce. 4.

Enter Sperazus and Constantina.
Spe.
Daughter this forwardness of yours to dye,
Makes me believe you are innocent, and now I am
Grown confident that what you said is true,
Although at first I must confess it startled incredulity.

Con.
As grave Sir I am not bound with an untruth
To wrong myself; so I do scorn
To mitigate my crime with coin'd excuses.
I must confess I am guilty of that sin
Which now they tax me with: If it be a sin
Chastly to love, I am most wicked, if not,
I call the Gods to witness I am innocent,
For no loose desire has ever yet prophan'd me.

Spe.
Thou art the purest Virgin living then,
Purer than those that think all Love
An argument of loosness: Who nere knew Wine
Cannot be thought abstemius, 'tis the forbearing taster
That is temperate. She that is chast and never lov'd
Does only good compel'd by ignorance;
But she that loves and can be chast
Enjoys that virtue in its full perfection.
Such an one, divinest Maid, art thou,
Whom but to ransome from the Tyrants Law,
I'd stretch my feeble limbes with vigour on the Altar,
And with a zeal undaunted meet the flames:
So with them should my soul aspire
Beyond the reach of gross mortality.

Con.
And do you envie me that happiness?
Is not my soul as free as yours to expiate
Its own transgressions; The Gods I am sure
Desire a Sacrifice though spotted, if offer'd
By the repentant sinner, more than whole Hecatombs
Bestow'd by Innocence.

Spe.
Thou pleadst divinely gainst thy self: thy only fault
Is too much goodness, which lest the Heavens
Should not know how to pardon, by wanting of a president,
I'le furnish thee with showres of tears
To make a flood wherein thy soul may float
In peace unto security.

Con.
Reserve them for some other subject;
I make no question but to dye for him
Will be both penance and a pardon. Could my heart
Be but so kindly stubborn to resist my thoughts oppressions,
And not break till I endure this martyrdom,
I should receive the joyfull Crown of immortality.

Spe.
Let not the thought of that, divinest, trouble thee;
Here is a juyce distilled from Nepenthe, Drink it,
And the remembrance of thy former miseries
Will flye thy imagination.

He gives her a Viall.
Con.
Alas I dare not take it: my life
Is of so short a moment, that I shall nere requite you,
And I would not willingly dye ingratefull.

Spe.
I owe both this and far more to thy virtue.
Farewell thou mirrour of all goodness;
Take these my tears, my prayers, my sighes,
Companions of thy journey, and when thou art amidst
Those sacred flames, they'l help to waft thee to eternity.

Exit.
Con.
Right heavenly Sir adue.

Spe.
Where were thy eyes Fidelio? This will be news
Will make thy affrighted blood start from thy veins,
And turn thee more pale than she consum'd to Ashes.

Exit.