SCEN. 5.
Rhodon, Anthophotus, Acanthus, Iris, Panace.
An.
Never till now, did my Hymettus flourish:
More blest effects hath thy sweet presence wrought,
(Honour'd Rhodon) then could have beene produc'd
By moist-wing'd Zephyrus, or Favonius,
Who fanns our flowers with his gentle breath.
Rho.
Thankes, good Anthophotus:
An.
Nor doth our sister Iris hold her selfe
Meanely engag'd to you, for this your gracious visit.
Rho.
To be the meanest servant of so sweet a saint,
Is the full height and scope of my ambition.
Ir.
Faire Sr. I wish you would be pleas'd t'imploy
Your service on an object of more worth.
Rho.
Dissemble not, admired Shepheardesse;
For thou art she, that art as farre beyond
That light peece of beauty, Hellen of Greece,
In outward perfections; as shee was short of thee in inward graces.
Yea, had those fifty Kings that did for her
Engage themselves in a long tedious warre,
Seene but the Modell of thy rare beauty,
Drawne by the hand of but a rude painter,
Doubtlesse, they had their honours forfeited,
And broke that sacred oath which they had tane.
Their worke in hand they had relinquish'd quite,
And left the walls of wretched Troy untoucht;
For each attracted with thy beauties splendor,
Nor Seas nor perils would have left unpast,
To finde thee in the furthest angle of the world.
Ir.
Could my perfections, valu'd at the highest rate,
But countervaile a dramme of your great worth,
Then should I think my selfe borne under starres
Most happy and auspicious.
An.
Surcease your Complements, deare Rhodon,
Let empty Caskes, and hollow Cymbals speake
That ayrie language, which unworthy is
Of your reallities.
Rho.
Pardon me, gentle Sir: this radiant starre,
My judgements feeble eyes did dazle so,
That I was forc'd to speake what passion did informe me.
Enter a Messenger.
Messen.
Which is the Shepheard Rhodon?
Rho.
I am the man.
Messen.
Then you are he whom Violetta greets.
Rho.
How fares my sister?
Messen.
This letter shall relate what I can never utter.
Exit Messen.
Rho.
Pray Jove we have good newes, me thinks I saw
A pallid horrour setl'd in the face
Of the sad Messenger: be't good or ill,
We are resolv'd to see it, come what will.
He opens and reads the Letter.
I Violetta much distrest
By Martagon my mortall foe,
Your succour humbly doe request,
To set me free from servile woe.
Our flowers he hath trampled on,
Our Gardens turn'd to thickets wilde;
Our fields and Meads he hath ore-run,
That we are forc'd to live exil'd.
We therefore doe your aide implore,
Us to our freedome to restore.
Your distressed sister,
Violetta, Violetta.
'Twas for no good, that the late shag hair'd Comet
With his erected staring lookes, did over-looke
Our frighted flocks, who all amaz'd poore wretches
At such a horrid unexpected sight,
Ere Hesperus gan from the west to peepe,
Halfe empty, did retire unto their folds againe:
Nor were those idle fires which late we saw,
Hang like a flaming canopie above us,
When we did walke the round about our folds,
To keepe the warwolfe from our Lambs by night.
But is't possible that man should be so savage,
To vent his rage upon a silly woman?
An.
It is no wonder gentle sir at all:
For when Prometheus form'd his man of clay,
Tis said that he did to his stomacke adde,
The raging fury of a Lyon fierce.
Rho.
Tis true: but histories report that a Lyon did,
The suppliant Getulian virgin spare;
Scorning to make so innocent a creature
His pray or quarry.
An.
Foule shame and infamy it is, god wot
That manly might should women weake oppose,
Whom they by right for life ought to defend.
Acan.
(Rhodon) doe thou but say Amen: and I will in
An instant raise our spritefull youth,
And lead them on with such a vigorous force
Against the most unhumane Martagon;
That we will pull the Craven from his nest,
Disrobing him of all his borrowed plumes,
And repossessing Violetta of her owne.
Rho.
In actions of such consequence as this,
We must not be too precipicious,
Mature deliberation must conclude
What shall be done in such a maine designe:
The stately Steed that with a full careere
Attempts to mount the brow of the steepe hill,
Oft breaks his winde, ere he can reach the height.
But the slow snayle without or harme, or perill,
In time ascends unto the mountaines top,
For that true love we owe to Thessaly,
In which affection all we are ingag'd;
We by a friendly treaty will endevour
To bring th' usurper to a restitution.
But if the Olive branch will doe no good,
Then let the scourge of warre it selfe disclose;
They that our friendship scorne, must be our foes.
An.
And if my right hand faile to second thee,
Then for a Peasant let me counted be.
Exeunt Rho. Antho. Iris.
Panace offers to goe out, and is stayed by Acanthus.
Ac.
Nay, stay faire Nimph, I would request
A private Conference with you.
Pa.
If that I could with my affaires dispense,
I gladly should imbrace your Conference:
But my occasions bid mee hast away;
Sweet Sr, adieu; I can no longer stay.
Exit Pa.
Ac.
I that of late was made of Scythian snow,
And Hyperborean ice, am now quite thaw'd
In the uncessant flames of hot desire.
A new Vesuvius burnes within my brest,
But shall I overturne those noble trophies
Which I most firmely have on vertue founded;
Or shall I singe the wings of reason so,
In the outragious flames of passion;
That I must needs fall downe and perish quite
In the blacke hideous gulfe of deepe despaire,
No: no: I will not,
Of this I am resolv'd whatso're befall,
Or not to love too much, or not at all.
Exit.
