 | The Queen of Corsica |  |
Scena 3a.
Hymen's Priest. LycomedonFlorimond. Achæa. Antiope. 2 Lord«s»
Cleander. Dorimant. Beotto.
Soft Musique. Hymen's Image Discouerd upon an Altar. The Priest goes up. Then follow Florimond & Achæa hand in hand; Garlands upon theyr Heads. The King & Lords by 2 & 2 following.
Priest.
You Poluted Payre Drawne neare
And fill your Hearts with holy ffeare,
Looke not up with Eyes Obscene
Till Matrimony make you Cleane;
And Sonne I doe Aduise you this:
That Teares purge your foule Amisse.
Soe to the Altar Come, and Lay
67
The Schreich-Owle and the Rauen fell
Be not heard this Day to tell
Wicked Omens to the Night,
Nor the Pallid Ghosts affright.
The Priest prsents 'em.
Holy Hymen wilt thou Deigne
To Renew thy Shrine againe
In this Woman, and Perfume
Them both with Graces to Consume
The Seeds of Stranger Lusts? O take
Them into Wedlock for my Sake.
Shall I ty their trembling hands
In thy Chast, and Sacred Bands?
The Image Sweats Blood.
Hence Profane!
The God is angry. Yor Prodigious Blood
Sweates through his holy Image.
Flor.
Monstrous!
What does this Sweat portend?
Ach.
This, this, false Florimond,
Wt h a Knife shee Stabbs him and her Selfe.
And this unto Achæa.
Lyc.
Hold her hand
Flor. reeles against the Altar.
Flor.
It is too Late. I thanke thee.
Ach.
Pardon Hymen!
I now haue payd my Uow. I onely Brought him
To Sacrifice him at thy Altar here
Whome hee hath soe Profan'd. These, fflorimond,
These are the Nuptiall Rights I promis'd thee.
Clea.
Horrible!
Lyc.
How shee insults?
Ach.
I haue Reason: I am white now,
Pouring my Defiled Blood before the Shrine,
Flor.
How sower is sinne when it is Swallow'd Downe?
68
Let us be ffriends in Death.
Ach.
Neuer neuer.
Were there a thousand Worlds for us to passe through,
My Uengeance should pursue thee thorough all.
Ant.
O my Deare Sister!
Ach.
Weepe not at my Wedding.
Ant.
A ffatall one indeed
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