University of Virginia Library

SCÆNA I.

Archidamus, Roxane, Barsene, Orithya, Thelastris.
Rox:
Come, Sir, wee are resolved, if't be ith' power
Of Ladies to effect it, to cure you of
Your sadnesse, you no longer shall afflict
Us and your selfe with melancholly. It does not
Show princely in you, thus to enthrall your selfe
To th'Memory of a Woman. We thought to finde you
A Warriour; One in whose stout brest so poore
So effœminate a thing as Love, or the
Losse of a Mistresse, would have past among
Those ordinary Cares, which are at once
Consider'd and forgotten.

Bars:
'Tis for subjects
To affect Constancy, or melt and pine,
And breath themselves away ith' Contemplation
Of those they Love; Or to affect Lone walkes,
There raise an Idoll to themselves, And then
Fall downe and worship it. Y'have turn'd your Campe
Into a Cloyster, Sir. And are retir'd
Ith' mid'st of Legions. Nor can we imagine
We have your Company, when present with us,
Your thoughts are so away.

Arch:
Had you e're seene
The wondrous object that attracts them, or
Discern'd the secret influences, which
Passe from her soule to mine, and mingled there,
In one strict union, at this distance make us
So much each others as to have no power
T'untwist our selves, or have the leisure to
Looke towards ought which weares not her faire shape
To me, or mine to her, you might as well
Condition with the passive Iron not
To turne to th'Loadstone; Or chide the Needle for
Moving towards the bright pole, as accuse me
For thinking on Roxane. I confesse,
Bright Princesses, 'Tis Love that makes me rude;
And but I hope you have brought pardons with you,
And can forgive one robb'd of his free selfe,
Nor left to his owne Carriage; I should count
Those Houres which I have stollen from you, to pay
Devotion unto Her, a Sacriledge
Committed 'gainst your Beauties; Or a Theft,
Which doth take Worship from one Goddesse to
Consume it on Another.

Rox.
Wee'l allow
Roxane, Sir, (For so I doe perceive
You call your Princesse) To be all that a Prince
In Love can fancy faire, or amiable;
(Yet I must tell you too, Love's a false glasse,
Which still showes things much fairer then they are.)
Wee'l grant all your Descriptions true, that to
Her Fairenesse she hath Virtues, which doe adde
A Beauty to her Beauty, and render her
One, pure, through, rich Gemme, which entirely is
Nothing but Worth and Luster; yet if this Gemme
Be dropt into the Sea, or lost ith' vast
Chaos of Waves, will make warre with Nature,
Or force the Ocean to restore your Jewell
Made Irrecoverable?

Arch.
Doe you then looke
Upon my losse no otherwise?

Rox:
Not, when
I weigh her Brothers power; Th'uncertaine Chances
Of Warres like this; The many Subjects lives,
Which must be sacrific'd to her recovery.
The most you can expect if you prevaile,
Is that your Nuptialls should be mixt with slaughters;
And that your Marriage Tapers should be kindl'd
From funerall piles; And so Roxanes Wedding,
Thus ravish't to and fro, like Proserpines,
Ith' under World, be kept 'mongst Ghosts and shades.

Bars:
Besides, how are you sure your constancy
Is answer'd, Sir, with constancy? Our hearts
Are changeable; nor do I see why Princes
Should be lesse fraile then others, who confine
Affection to the sight, since Love's a fire
Which doth not onely languish, and goe out,
Where fuell is subtracted, But is kept burning
Onely ith' presence of another fire.

Arch:
Ile rather thinke nature can change her Course
Rivers run backwards from the Ocean,
Things heavy can fly up, and light fall downe;
Or that the Heavenly Orbes can vary, and
By shuffling of themselves, the higher with lower,
Loose their first Order, and in this confusion
Wheele round in Discord, as before in Musicke,
Then she can cease to Love me. Roxane is
To me a Vestall, and I one to her;
There's but one holy flame betweene us, which
Cannot expire but with our selves.

Rox:
But you'l
Allow there may, Sir, be degrees in Love;
And that a lesser fire ought to give way
In justice to a greater; And though not quench't,
Yeild it selfe swallowed by it.

Arch:
Madam, pray
Explaine your selfe.

Rox:
Say, then, Archidamus,
(For now I will be free) there should be those,
Who though they bring no bright Starres in their eyes,
Or such charmes in their faces, as Roxane,
(Which to affect, were to take fire from lookes,
And love by th'sense, and outside, not by th'minde.)
Yet being of equall birth, of as great vertues,
Of greater Dowries, (For those I speake of
Do with a Kingdome bring their Conquests too)
But above all (for they dare strive here, and
Account themselves superiour) say they should bring
Greater Affection; And to shew they do,
No longer able to conceale their Flames,
Should lay aside their Sex, and Act your part,
And tell you that they love you; Would such deserve
A repulse from you? Or could you, Sir, to gaine
The name and stile of Constant unto one,
Be unjust to two? And not repay their flame
With such another?

Arch:
There can be no such, Madam.

Bars:
Without more Cloudes, say, Sir, we be those two?

Arch:
You, Ladies? You are fit to conquer Princes;
And t'have the Gods steale downe in waried shapes,
To beget Hero's on you and halfe Gods;
Not to betray such weake affections as
To sue to those who do adore you. Besides,
You two admit no choice, where both are equall,
Both Twinnes in their perfections, as in birth,
Unlesse I could divide my selfe, and be
Two to you Two. (for here is no election
Of one without wrong to the other) And
Could multiply my selfe into a number,
How can I answer both?

Rox:
By choosing one.
We are agreed betweene our selves; she that's
Refus'd, shall home, and weare the Crowne, the other
Stay here and be your Queene.

Arch:
O Love! why as
Thou dost weave knots, doest thou not teach a way
How to unty them too? I do confesse
My selfe lost in a sweet perplexity.
I'me now the Prince 'fore whom three Goddesses
Strove for the Golden Ball, or which should be
Preferr'd for Beauty. When I do consider
Your severall shapes, I am snatch't severall wayes;
And am at once three Lovers. If I therefore,
Amidst such equall merits, can't make choice
Of one before the other, 'Tis because
I am not blinde. Where Objects are alike
Faire, and distracting, He must want his eyes
Who doth preferre.

Rox:
Wee'l give you this nights respite
To thinke upon election. Meane time, Sir,
There's a short Banquet waites you at our Tent.

Arch:
You'l be the Musicke to it.

Orith:
Madam,
Now your Play's done, ours will begin; we doe
Onely want stage room.

Bars.
Look you play your parts well.

Thal:
As well as our Hypocrisie & false faces
Will give us leave.
—Orithya, what d'you thinke
Oth' Prince's Constancy? should he be tempted
To leave Roxane for Roxane, and make
Choyce of the Disguised for the true, 'twould prove
A fine Ginne laid to prove men fraile, and subject
To our Infirmities.

Orith.
I know not how
This tedious Scœne of Love hath wrought on him;
But it to me was Opium, and raised slumber.
A Gentle murmure did glide by my ears
Like the soft fall of Streames. A little more
Of such slight, aëry stuffe, had bound my senses
Up in a perfect sleepe.

Thal.
I did observe
The Onsets, & Replyes too; Methought they ran
In Artops & Neanders candid stile,
When they doe court our Women in Milke-verse,
Or tell them Newes or Stories in Sonnet prose.
I should ne're be thus cruell to him I love,
To show him shades in stead of substance; 'Tis,
Methinkes embracing Clouds.