 | The Blind Lady |  |
SCEN. 1.
Enter Albertus, Phylanter.Alb.
But upon what injury, Phylanter?
Phy.
Love and Ambition, Sir, those two great injuries
Of mens seduced minds, which fill the thoughts
Full of Revenge, not with the justnesse of it.
What Mironault has done, moves not my hate;
But what he may, my fears. By her, a Kingdom, Sir;
And, with her self, a World—
Falls in my arms. How slow you are to crown
Me and your self with happinesse?
You can love neither, and deny.
Alb.
But are you sure he comes?
Phy.
I am certainly inform'd so.
Alb.
Yet consider, son, how will the King resent,
That whilst he's paying his duty to the Princesse,
He should be there surprised?
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That is your part for to prevent, Sir,
Telling the King, (such minds are ever jealous)
That his designes were to surprise the Princesse:
'Twill appear service then, and may destroy
My Rival's interest, if not advance my own.
Those, Sir, that traffick in these seas,
Fraught not their Bark with fears:
Besides, there needs none now.
Alb.
Yet think again, though, as you are my son,
I can deny you little; and 'tis more just
You should deny your self, and not obey
These hasty passions. He ne're injur'd you;
Or if he had, there were a nobler way
For your revenge than this. You are angry
That the world's pleased with him, and that he may
Enjoy a bliss you wish for; or, at least,
Because he wishes it as well as you;
A Quarrell which Mankind must lay aside,
Or all be Murtherers.
Phy.
You told me, I did obey my passions;
To those you give your reasons then:
As much you may expect from them,
As if you told the winds they blew too hard.
Think of the Cause, then judge of the Effect.
'Tis Love—Love for the Princesse too,
For whose fair sake, Who'd not attempt
The angry billows swell'd with horrid storms,
The Sea-gods Pyramids, when every wave
Bears too, like those, within its womb a grave,
Or dangers yet unheard of? Determine, Sir,
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Come to his unprepared ears.
Alb.
Well, that I may preserve you
From some more unadvised course, (if more can be)
I'le do it; but take heed
Of letting violence be offer'd to him:
Preserve thy self free from so foul a crime.
Love's way lies not through blood. Consider too
What we now go to act; nor blush
To think thou didst do ill, or that 'twill throw
Aspersions on thy judgment, to dislike
The folly thou hadst dotingly embrac'd.
Hee's wise that sees his error at the last,
Who weighs all these in perfect scales,
Shame of his crime, and not his wit, prevails.
Farewell, I leave you to your thoughts.
—I'le on my way to night.
Heaven direct and prosper you.
Exit.
Phyl.
How nice his conscience was—now to my businesse.
And thou, great god of Love, that rul'st my heart,
Attempt but Fortune with as kind a Dart;
That whilst I reach at what can scarcely be,
Fortune as madly too may dote on me.
—Now all things but designe
Leave me—and yet—it looks but odly,
To put off all this honesty at once,
And to have none about me.
Or was it ever mine? sure I borrow'd it,
And 'tis a thing that's taken up on trust;
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When I can pay it. Lycespes, welcome,
I was resolved just now to seek you.
Enter Lycespes.
Lyces.
You would have found me still prepar'd to serve you.
Phyl.
You are my noble friend, nor will I say,
That I shall try it now; this onely can
Preserve it. But words are wasters of our time,
And robs us still of action. As fast then as you can
Get all our friends in readinesse, as many
As possibly you can, well arm'd and mounted.
Return with all the speed your Love can make.
As we go you shall know all,
The rest must live in ignorance.
What Power now to invoke I hardly know,
Yet every god has felt what Love can do.
[Exeunt.
| The Blind Lady | |