University of Virginia Library

SCÆNA. IV.

Eurymedon, Roxane, Barsene.
Eurym.
Madam, you put too great names on my Visits,
To stile them meritorious Dangers. 'Tis
So little I have done, thus to adventure
To your faire presence, secur'd onely by
The weake vaile and cloud which I weare about me,
That this but rankes me yet 'mongst vulgar Lovers;
Who would doe much more for one fading Kisse,
Which dies in the fruition, and perishes
Whilest 'tis received, from her they love.

Bars.
But Sir,
So often to descend from your great Selfe,
Where once had beene enough to gaine a Princesse;
And to submit your selfe to this darke shade,
Which might betray you, and at best conceales you
But as Eclipses doe conceale the Sun;
Which when They hide, doe robbe him too, and take
His bright rayes from him; And all this to enjoy
The fraile Sight of a Woman, who returnes
You nought but Taske for Visit, and whose presence
Might it securely be possest, and you
Not venture a Captivity as often
As you passe to and fro, at most can make
But this poore, short requitall, To be seene
Such as She is, one onely rich in promises,
Where She wants Treasures more Substantiall;
And those performed so much below the Receiver,
So apt to breed Repentance, as to deserve
Onely to passe 'mongst the Injuries of Love,
Is such a Noblenesse, which first esteemes
And values Meane Things, whose Worth is Opinion,
And then findes Arguments to prize them, and
T'account them amiable: y'have added This
To my Releasement when I was your prisoner,
Still to proceed in the same generous errour;
Still to beleive me worthy to be loved,
As then to be surprized, and to be told so.

Eurym.
You are the first, Most Gracious Barsene,
Who robbed her selfe to make Another rich;
Or stript her selfe of her owne praises to
Adorne Anothers Wants, and then looke on him
As a Thing Worthy to be valued. The Gods
When They returne a large and plenteous vintage
For a few Drops of Wine pour'd on their Altars:
Or doe repay a Graine or Two consumed
In Sacrifice, with a whole feild of Incense;
Or when They doe require a pilgrimage
Made to their Shrines, with Answers which doe promise
More then the Supplicant or askes, or hopes for,
Are not more Bounteous, more free and liberall,
Then you; who thus doe glorifie what You
In Justice might despise; And call your owne
Perfections, which attract me to your presence,
Desert in me; Or thinke I merit, when
You make me happy. Nor can I count my visits
Among my Dangers, which are so much sweetned
By your Allowance of Them. If they be Dangers,
'Tis a felicity I covet to
Be allways neare my Thraldome. To be taken
Coming or Going, and held Captive, Will
Be such a suffering as will endeare it selfe;
And be one of my pleasures, when I thinke
For whose sake I'me a Bondman.

Bar:
But, Great Sir,
What can you see in me, besides a Minde
Willing to understand it selfe beloved
And to returne Affection for Affection.
Which should expose you to these perils; And
Make't an Adventure every time you see me;
And your returne backe an Escape?

Eur:
I see
A forme more beautifull, more attracting, then
All those for which the King of Gods left Heaven.
And which t'enjoy, he rather chose to be
Transformed into a Flame, or spangled showre,
Then to remaine the Thunderer; And thought it
A happier shape to be a Swanne, then to
Be clothed with his owne Lightning. Should you set me
The taskes of Hercules, or bid me turne
Fable into story, and make his Labours mine;
Or should enjoyne me fights where th'enemy
Growes numerous from my Conquests. And multiplies
From every wound I give him; And having finisht
One Labour, should you straight prescribe another;
And make me so divide my life betweene
My Love and Conflicts; Such a reward as you,
Would be a greater recompence, then to
Be placed among the Starres, and there to shine
A Constellation, wreath'd about with my
Owne Victories; and glittering with the spoiles
I tooke from Lyons.

Rox:
Well, Sir, Barsene hath
Receiv'd so true, so full a Testimony
Both of your Love, and fortitude, that now
Nothing is wanting to put both you and us
In full possession of our wishes, but
The opportunity to reveale our selves
After the noblest manner.

Bar:
Your Taske is onely
To set your Army in Array, to joine
Battle with ours, that, from this shew of Warre,
We may at our Returne unto our selves,
The better raise a peace: And make an Olive
Spring from our Mirtles. Meane time I am your Conquest.

Eur.
And I, who came a Prince, returne your Captive.

Exeunt.