University of Virginia Library

SCEN. 1.

Theocles. Artemone. Hyperia.
Art.
I would you had still kept the cause unknown
Of this your fatal Combat, sure I am,
'Thas bred a Mutiny within my soul,
Scatter'd Seditious wars through all my thoughts.
O Brother! you have made me break a faith
Firm as the Rock of Diamonds, and as precious.
I must confesse continual waves of Fear
And Jealousie much dash't it, and endeavour'd
At least to overwhelm that which they could not
Shake from its firmer station; yet it stood
Unmov'd, though not discover'd. O Lysander!
What will thy Innocence conceive, when Thou
Shalt find my heart thus alter'd, and my Faith,
(My Faith once given to Thee) plight to another,
To Philonax thy Enemy, and owe all this
Unto thy Friend, my Brother? yet I know
His softer Disposition cannot choose
But pardon, and still love you, call you still
His hearty, constant, loving—Traiterous Friend,
Closing with Theocles, she drawes out his poniard, offering to stab him, but is hinder'd by Hyperia.
And thus embrace you.

Hyp.
Hold Madam, what's your meaning?

The.
Hyperia, thou didst but ill to hinder
The wholsome wound, I have much blood still left me
Might well be spar'd, much bad corrupted blood
Which hath infected, more then fill'd my veins,
That blood which prompted my unwilling thoughts
To value my desires above my Faith;
Would it were all exhausted, save so much
As might preserve a Blush for my past Folly.
Come belov'd Enemy, unrip my bosome,
You need not wound my heart, for that already
Bleeds a Repentance in a showr of Teares,
Which like so many purpled Magistrates
Passe Sentence on my Guilty thoughts.

Art.
Oh Sir,
Y'ave quite o'recome my rage by this unfeigned,
This powerful Repentance, your hearty teares
Have quite extinguish'd all my Flames of Anger:
I now begin agen to be your Sister,
Yet I could wish your thoughts had bin unspoken,
I would this had not hapned.

(weeps.)
The.
Think not my Speech,
When first I did accuse your true Lysander,
Utter'd the least Intention of my Thoughts:
My words did then as much belie my knowledge
As his unmoved Loyaltie. Alas,
My own love tempted me to betray his.

Art.
That agen blowes my zealous rage. I would
He had bin false indeed, (pardon Lysander)
Would he had broke his promise: but that he
Should then preserve so true, so strict a faith,
When credulous I upon a bare report,
Nay not so much but one Mans single word
Should cancel all my vowes: And yet it was
My Brothers word, the friendly, vertuous Theocles.
For heavens sake take your poniard, and prevent
All outrage that my passion may suggest.

The.
Nay do your pleasure, here I stand that would
Most willingly now fall a Sacrifice
To your offended goodnesse. Surely when
This cottage of my soul shall fall to earth
Crumbling to dust, your Fury will like that
Be blown away; when you shall find me ashes,
And think me made so by your Flames of Anger,
You will forgive me, nay will you not? pray speak.

Art.
Sorrow thou comest too thick upon me, and
My opprest Soul sinks under the vast burden.—