University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Enter Omphales to Ammon.
Omphales.
Am I on Earth? Or have the Gods receiv'd me?
A Summons, Ammon, welcome as the Voice
Which whispers Liberty to Dungeon Slaves;
Pleasing as Dreams of Health to the Diseas'd;
Or Hope to the despairing Penitent.
Th' indulgent Maid hastes to the conscious Bow'r,
The former Scene of more successful Love;
Thither invites me to a last Farewel!
But when again I find her downy Bosom,
Shall I forgo the happy, lov'd Retreat?
Return content that we have mourn'd our Fate?—
No!—'tis resolv'd!—

Ammon.
All's ruin'd if they meet!

[Aside.
Omphales.
Exile with her, or for her Death is pleasing!

[Going off.
Ammon.
No! You depart not thus!

[Detaining him.
Omphales.
Delay me not!

Ammon.
A Moment!

Omphales.
Moments are too precious now!—
This is too much!—

Ammon.
By the dear Name of Friend!

Omphales.
My Friend! and hold me from Hesione!
Away!—By Heav'ns, I can endure no more!

Ammon.
By Heav'ns, I must detain thee! hear me speak!
You cannot meet!

Omphales.
Hah!—cannot:—by the Gods!
If any Tongue but thine had spoke these Words,
I wou'd have call'd it false!

Ammon.
Thou art too warm!
What I relate, I tell thee from her Mouth,
And learnt e'en now to save thee! Is it thus
Omphales pays my Care? Am I thrown off,
Spurn'd with Contempt, cast, like a fawning Slave,
From him, whose Wrongs I've labour'd to redress?
Whose Sorrows are my own?—Why then no more:
But hasten to Destruction!

Omphales.
Oh my Friend!
Forgive me! I'm become a froward Wretch!
Wearied beyond the Pow'r of Patience!—
Say, whence this sudden Change?

Ammon.
Her jealous Father
Has torn the Secret of your Meeting from her:
And since, before the Altar he has sworn,
If e'er again you're found within these Walls,
To treat you as a common Enemy!
A Robber; or a Persian!

Omphales.
Mistaken Man!
Oh, how unequal is the State of Lovers?
A Moment's Hope elates us to the Clouds;
And in a Moment more some sudden Fear,
Some Disappointment pulls us down again
Lower than Envy's self cou'd wish to place us!
—But tell me, Ammon, tell me from thy Soul,
How does she bear our Separation?

Ammon.
You cannot doubt her?

Omphales.
That were impious!

Ammon.
Nor shall you fear th' Extremity of Grief:
Yet justly she bemoans her absent Mate.
Remote she sat; her Words were few and forc'd;
Her Eyes still fix'd; her Posture still the same:
Down either Cheek a Tear had made its Way,
Two more stood ripe, and ready to pursue 'em;
And had not Sighs inform'd me she cou'd breathe,
She'ad seem'd the Image of despairing Beauty.
Not Venus look'd more lovely in her Sorrow,
When she beheld the Youth Adonis slain!
Yet she might raise her Head to speak of you!

Omphales.
By Heav'ns, I see her!—Oh, my tortur'd Soul!—
So truly do I love her Happiness,
I almost wish she might forget me now!
Yet all my Comfort is—that cannot be!
Oh, Ammon, if thy breast hath ever heav'd
For Sorrows not thy own; if yet thy Heart
Hath prov'd the anxious Pain of hopeless Love,
Thou now must feel for an unhappy Friend!

Ammon.
I'm not to learn Love's Pangs—there was a Time!

Omphales.
And coud'st thou truly love? and dost thou live
To tell it, as an idle Dream that's past?

Ammon.
Thou art, indeed, a Lover!

Omphales.
I am true:
Nor blush to own it—Oh, Hesione!
The Pain I feel, instructs me what you suffer!
I fear! I fear! for you are all compos'd
Of Tenderness!—O Ammon, tell me all!
Deceive me not! Speak all her Sorrow out!
The worst unfold! Her very Words impart!
Hide her not from me!

Ammon.
O, she utter'd all
That Love in Pain, and Absence might conceive:
Oft o'er, and o'er again she told her Passion;
For Love, tho' in a thousand Modes it speaks,
Says but one thing: the varied Eloquence
Of Lovers means no more, than that they Love.
'Midst other Things, she joy'd, you had receiv'd
What I propos'd; for I had told her all.

Omphales.
And she approv'd it?

Ammon.
Wish'd it were begun!
Urg'd its Performance! and my Fancy errs,
Or she preferr'd it in her parting Words
To thee! even here!—“Omphales will not rest,
“Nor think of Peace without me!

Omphales.
Now, by Heav'ns
Such were her Words!

Ammon.
And in the instant chang'd
Her Sorrow into Frowns, as she had meant—
There's need of Violence!—mark'd you not that?

Omphales.
Ammon, as there are Gods in yon bright Heav'n!
I will not rest! I will not think of Peace,
'Till I accomplish all! I've linger'd here too long.
Farewel! be ready to perform thy Charge.
The beauteous Prize already chides my Sloth,
Stands at the Goal, and beckons me away.

[Exit Omphales.
Ammon.
Farewel, my Friend! if e'er we meet again,
And meet as Foes, I meet but with a Man.