University of Virginia Library

SCEN. 2.

Panareta. Ethusa, at one door. Lysander, at the other.
Lys.
Save you fairest Ladies: I wish health
And your own wishes upon both.

Pan.
But sure
He does not know how much h'has giv'n away
In that one word. If I had my own wish,
He should bestow himself.

Eth.
If that be all,
We thank you Sir.

Lys.
But Ladie I have bus'nesse
Beyond a bare salute, and 'tis of Theocles,
His Service to you Ladie.

Eth.
Well! proceed;

Lys.
Hee's one, if faith can bear the stamp of Merit,
Deserves your love; he spends the day in tears,
And by his Sighes, with which he counts his houres,
He makes void Minutes. Thus he pines away,
And in a Sullen grief hath lost himself
Onely for love of you.

Pan.
How well that tongue
Hath learnt to wooe! He need not fear repulse,
If he could spend a Suite in his own Name,
Smooth'd with such language to my tender eares.

Eth.
Alas I pitie the poor Gentleman;
Bid him rise early, use good Companie,
And know no other moisture but of wine,
'Twill cure his Melancholie.

Lys.
If you return
But this slight Answer, know you then will draw
A new disease upon him, and your Cure
Will onely thus grow to a deeper wound,
Whil'st he shall die with Physick.

Pan.
Still he moves
Like one that knew the Conquering Art to plead
For any but himself,

Eth.
Indeed you urge
His suit so full, as if he had bequeath'd
His soul into your bosom; But I pray you
Discourse it coolely; should I give my self
To ev'ry one that this way would deserve me
I should be married to a Troop of Men,
And grow a Lawful Strumpet; For my Face
Is not of that poore Clay, as to be courted
With one Flame onely, there are more desires
Chain'd to my eyes then his.

Lys.
There may be so,
And that Face doth deserve it.

Pan.
Pray heav'n himself
Do not increase the Number.

Lys.
But in all
That heap of Suitors, there are few can boast
A Flame so vigorous, as Theocles's;
All do not testifie their rude Affections
With that best Complement of Gaudie Presents,
Nor wooe ith' costly language of rich guifts:
This is the stile of Theocles firm love
Printed in Gold.

Eth.
I grant indeed he sent.
Full choice of Presents, and the finest toyes
As I could wish: But I return'd my thanks,
And paid him still in a Civilitie:
If he expect more, I recall that too:
Else, call it what he will, he sends but wares,
And cheats my Cabinet with Merchandise,
Which I forsooth must think fill'd with his love,
And in Reward, bestow my self: alas
I have no price set on me, nor am sold
At the cheap rate of Jewels: Ile not passe
My self away by bargain.

Lys.
Ladie he scorns
To chaffer for affection: He desires
That you should recompence his Faith with yours,
And not his Guifts: when e're he sends a Jewel
Carv'd out into a heart, 'tis his own heart
Wounded and cut by your Disdain; each present
Carries a part of him that sent it too.
His Love is weav'd through all his Guifts: Did he
Know that base Art how to send any thing
And leave himself out, you might easily then
Slight the poor single offer. Nor is he arm'd
Onely with Guifts, he dare even challenge dangers
And provoke death, if he might thus avoid
The fate which he more fears of your Displeasure.
He dares fight for you and maintain your Beautie,
Whil'st he shall lose his own, and paint your face
Fresh with his blood.

Eth.
I, here's a way indeed,
A fine device thus to defend my beautie
That he might ruine it. That Ladies name
Whose worth must be decided by the Sword,
Suffers though in a Conquest; 'tis a stain
To honour, whil'st it wants another force
Then its own Innocence to guard it.

Lys.
Ladie,
Y'are too severe thus to despise all waies
That render Suitors lovely: if you doubt
His Constancie, invent your self a Trial;
Impose some harder task, whose cruel weight
Might shake a faith which was as firm as Rock,
Though more relenting. If guifts fraught with love
Cannot prevail, nor th' Judgment of a Duel,
Then find out something heavier then war,
Injoyn his absence, and impose some years
Of tedious Pilgrimage, which onely thus
Shall grow a Sport and Recreation,
'Cause your Command.

Eth.
Sister y'are too heavie,
Come, be more cheerful.

Lys.
This is a Contempt
Worse then the rest, will she not give an Answer?— (aside.)

O the proud Insolence of a coy Ladie!
But if that be the way, I can follow,
And shape my self to any thing to produce
A Comfort for my friend: Panareta
Let me intreat your help.

Pan.
O do not wrong
The power you have in me to intreat any thing,
Bee't a command, and 'tis already done.

Lys.
What sweetnesse dwells in all her Answers? now
(aside.)
I could forget my friend, and almost urge
A suit might blesse my self; But I must through't:
My request is, that you would win your Sister
To glance some favours upon Theocles.
She is all stone yet, but that she will not
Be won upon by tears; No softnesse can
Supple her harder Bosome.

Eth.
A good Character.

Pan.
Ah Lysander! I did hope you would
Have urg'd a glad Suit of Another strain
When I did yeild so far: I did believe
(How Credulous Love is) 'twas me you aim'd at.

Lys.
Did I forsake one shelve to split my hopes
Upon a New? I must still try Ethusa,
Since you are cruel too.

Pan.
How should I plead?
Tell me what words will soonest win her love,
For sure you know the way to conquer hearts.

Eth.
How gravely they consult together! onely,
After more Policie to be deny'd still.— (aside.)


Lys.
Tell her how great his Love is: let her know
She sits within his heart next to the Gods.

Pan.
Sure that cannot win her, for even thus I love
You with a faith as great, as he does her.
You sit within my heart next to the Gods,
Pardon the Blasphemy, and are even plac't
Above e'm too, and yet I am neglected.

Eth.
I am glad I am releas'd, since I can now
Gather more Breath, strong for a new repulse.

(aside.)
Lys.
If you love me, then shew it in this grant.