University of Virginia Library

SCEN. 5.

Lysander
alone.
I do repent thy wrongs vertuous Panareta;
And will release the Injuries, and now strive
To love in earnest; I'le repeat her sighes
With a true groan, I'le mock her misery
No more with grief printed but forehead deep,
I know her love is as her vertues are,
Intire and constant: But what rebellion
Weighs down my soul? And can I spend a passion
In any besides Artemones Name?
She is all Faith and beauty, there my heart
Chain'd with the strength of vowes hath fixt it self.
Where I am equally belov'd of two,
'Tis not ingratitude but my destiny
To forsake one: I should love Artemone,
But must Panareta. O where's my Friend,
The News I carry will chear him, though't wound
The Man that tells it: I have won Ethusa
Unto his bosome, but I've lost my self.

To him Theocles.
The.
What Friend, alone?

Lys.
No; for I'm never dispossest of Thee,
And thy fair Sister.

The.
'Tis one of those good faults
We cannot quarrel at: but I could wish
That you were freer with Panareta.

Lys.
And I, that I were quite releas'd her sight!
I've bin too free already, and so far
Have yeelded though against my self,
That she hath gain'd Ethusa to your love:
And I am now sadly imploy'd from her
To tell you she is yours. Pardon Friend,
If I can spin a grief out from the webbe
Of your delights, suck poyson from your Joy:
'Tis not well done to put me on these snares
And thorns of Friendship, There are smoother waies
To shew an unmolested courtesie,
And we might love at ease.

The.
Though I am glad
At these good tydings; yet I cannot choose
But grieve you envy them: I hope you will not
Accuse my friendship as it were a burden.

Lys.
Then let my tongue be blasted. But how e're
'Tis in thy power to give a greater ease.
As I've known men strong and healthful, yet
Admit of Physick, though I dare not say
I'm sick, yet certainly I should appear
More vigorous if thou would'st cease to love
Ethusa.

The.
If a friends breath can poyson,
There is a hot infection now taints thine.

Lys.
Be not yet too rash: y'ave call'd me friend,
And would you then grow strong out of my Ruines?

The.
Heavens forbid!

Lys.
Then see the Labyrinth in which I tread,
I wooe Panareta in this disguise,
Onely to win her Sister to your love:
Whil'st thus I sue, that great Man Philonax
Bends his Devotion towards my Goddesse,
And is my dangerous Rival in your Sister,
Now if you'd free me from this Vizard love,
Then were my Artemone free from him,
Who then would seize on fair Panareta,
From whom 'tis onely my pretence hath barr'd him.

The.
And would you have me then not love Ethusa?
'Twas but a vain request, while my best Faith
Was answer'd with the violence of scorn:
But now being strengthened with a mutual Love
What fury can remove it?

Lys.
How I'm made up
Onely of wavering! I must not see
A Friend thus plung'd whilst I within my Power
Can grasp the Remedy. Know then, friend Theocles,
Though through my own misfortune I'le maintain
Thy happinesse in its due height, methinks
If Love to her must breed neglect to thee
I now could cancel Artemones vowes.

The.
O ye wonder of what was e're stil'd friendship!
It were my Heaven if that thy Love to her
Did not make faint, and cool Ethusa's heat,
What now is warm'th might burn into a flame,
If thou could'st truly love Panareta.

Lys.
I can, and shall not henceforth act thy love,
Nor wooe as Proxie longer. I'le not be
Onely a bare naked Interpreter,
Nor spend my Suit in a third person more,
I will professe my own vowes, and implore
A med'cine which may cure a maladie
Fest'ring within this breast: I see her love
Settled, and though affronted with neglect,
Unshaken still; I meet no obstacles,
No threatning Father, nor too covetous Uncle,
The Reins are in her own hands; she enjoyes
A full command over her self, but that
Sh'hath given the power to me.

The.
Being thus confirm'd,
I'le rip my breast afore thee, and uncase
A secret which till now I durst not utter.

Lys.
A Secret! Heavens, how have I lost my Faith,
That ought between us two should be conceal'd?
I thought till now thy breast was made of glasse,
And lay as open to my curious view,
As that Face doth.

The.
Call back thy former temper,
When y'ave heard more, you may perhaps confesse
I ought to hide it.

Lys.
Prithee then quickly speak,
That I may be thy Friend again: for sure
That name is lost whiles there remains a Secret.

The.
Then since thou lovest Panareta, know my Sister
Believes as much, and first hath cast thee off,
It was my Plot (pardon good Lysander,
Onely that one word which ere yet stain'd my Friendship)
I workt her into this suspition,
Told her she was forsaken, and Panareta
Become her Rival; then she left thee too.
Thus neither guilty, you have both cast off
Each other first; my end in this contrivance
Was to new plant thy Love, and make it firm
Where 'twas but counterfeit, that I might thus
Sooner Enjoy Ethusa.

Lys.
Have you now
Vented your secret, is it quite out?

The.
It is,
But I could wish that it were clos'd up still
Within the private Cabin of my breast,
Your frown hath made me thus unloyal.

Lys.
Sure
'Twas not well done then to be treacherous,
When I my best faith and my falshood too
Bestow'd upon thy safety—But I'm grown
Too calm: If I should now consider Thee
In thy first love, that thou wert once a friend,
This were to season Madnesse with Discretion;
And I should rave with Judgment: Ballance all
Thy better deeds with this one Injury,
They cannot weigh down my Revenge: then draw,
That I may cut thee and thy false love off
From any Title to my wounded heart.

The.
Sheath up your Sword and anger; let not thus
Your passion rule, that you may after say
Y'ave lost a friend.

Lys.
Base villain draw.

The.
If y'are so rash not to consider me,
At least remember your own spotlesse honour,
The Noblenesse with which you heretofore
Were wont to fight, would scorn to take advantage,
Know then your challenge aymes at one that is
Already wounded; your severer tongue
Worse then the fiercest rage your Sword can bring,
Hath almost slain me.

Lys.
Fy, do not thus increase
The wrong th'ast done me; let me not be forc'd
To kill the yeilding; for my own fames sake
At least do one good deed, and to redeem
The scandal which thus brands my Innocence,
Die with thy sword in hand.

The.
If y'are resolv'd
Upon my death, inflict it; be it ne're said,
(What ever the disgrace my tongue hath done)
I took up armes against my friend.

Lys.
Ile tear
That Name from thy false throat; to be thy freind
Is to be treacherous, a Sin which yet
Could never reach Lysander; which my sword
(A name to me allmost as dear as fayth)
Shall thus maintain.

The.
Then since I needs must draw,
'Tis with thy hand I do it.

Lys.
Take my thanks
Yet for this latest Curtesy.

(They fight.)
(Theo. wounded.)