University of Virginia Library

Scene 4.

Lycidas, Phillis, Diana.
Phillis encounters them in hast.
Lycidas.
See whom we seek?

Phillis.
Lycidas, my hasty fear
Must fill with Wonder thy astonish't Ear,
And yours Diana; Celadon yet lives,
But whom Heav'n did, Astræa not forgives;
Celadon did, in Alexis disguise,
Both him present, and withhold from our eyes.
VVhich known t'Astræa, her offended Shame,
That she too lavishly had fed her flame
On this false Object, who from her again
As lavishly had still r'exact the same:
Hath rashly him pronounc'd a second Doom,
Thus of our Joys, Grief must possess the room.
But he by none to be resisted, fled
Into the Woods: And as soon lives, is dead,
Unless your hasty search do him prevent,
But my Relation pretious Time hath spent.

Lycidas.
So strange Amazement hath my sense bereav'd,
That I can scarce believe I'm not deceiv'd.

Diana.
Nor I.

Lycidas.
Sure Nature did herself bely,
To such Beauty gave no Humanity.

Diana.
'Tis very strange.

Lycidas.
Prodigious Amity
That works th'Effects of stern Hostility.

Phillis.
Her now collected Sense the same repents,
And what she did desire, done, she laments,
Stay not, in her reviles, your search.

Lycidas.
Exit.
I flie.

Phillis.
VVith your leave, her to comfort.

To Diana. Exit.
Diana.
I to die.
Fond Astræa! thus to build thy Mishap
On Bounties Fortune showred in thy lap,
Thou art thy self unto thy self ill Fate,
Too hasty Ils thus to anticipate;
And why thus doth thy Happiness distaste?
Because, before thou would'st, thou happy wast.
Alas! had Fate to me been half so kind,
I had not, sure, as thou, been half so blind:
VVhat lessens thine, me double Grief doth frame,
In that the author I must never blame.
My Mother 'tis; my Mother who me bred,
By whom I am to Execution led:
VVhose former Pie'ty nothing doth avail,
If on pretended piety sh' assail
My ruin; must from my Obedience rise,
To fill, and justifie her Sacrifice;
But she, alas, claims Natures laws her due,
As if 'gainst her Laws, what she fram'd destrue,
'Tis none of hers; abandon'd hers we have,
Who sweetens Evils, even those she gave
VVere but to salve those that our selves we give,
VVhil'st we more careless of our selves here live.
Blind Customes (from blind opinion sprung)
They are, observed because once begun.
What more unjust 'gainst Nature or all Right,
Thus wilfully t'extinguish eithers Light,
Those, One observes with so much Piety,
Another thinks offends his Deity;
If our mild mother-Nature's laws they were,
All would agree in what they were to bear.
The gentle Dove elects her loved Mate,
Without Controul, or Envy, or Debate:
Which from a secret Sympathy doth spring,
At whose approach Love Harmony doth sing,
Without Discourse, Direction or their Will;
B'instinctive Motives, they their Loves fulfill:
Happy Couples, thus joyn'd, happy forlorn,
Who may alone each others Losses mourn!
Sylvander appears in a discontented posture. He not seeming to look up, she goes to him and joggs him.
But while in Plaints Grief would it self subdue,
The Object, see, doth it again renew.
Sylvander, Sylvander, must Diana be
Thy oft Invoker, yet thou her not see?

Sylvander.
He starts as amazed.
Ha! who call'd? I heard Diana nam'd,
It is her self, and by her self am blam'd.
Pardon thou sweet Attracter of my Soul,
Kneels and rises.
My too wild Thoughts labor'd but to inroul
My own Losses, with such intentive Care;
Unhappy Stewards, as thy Treasures were.
But thou in this fair Volume hast laid ope
Briefer Accompts of my dispensed Hope:
Diana is Anothers, the whole Sum
Not able to discharge, I'm quite undone.

Diana.
I am thy equal Partner; one poor Bark
Bore both our Fortunes fired by one Spark.

Sylvander.
Alas, it was with such Abundance fraught,
I still misdoubted it would ne're be brought
To Harbor, Heaven doubting our Content
Should It forget, thus did our Loves prevent;
Nor was it just that Diana should be
Link'd to a Vagabond in her Amity.
Go give to Paris happier Birth, and Wealth,
What would have been to me but counted Stealth.

Diana.
Why wrongs Sylvander his Diana's Choice,
Staining thy self with thy distempered Voice?
Though thou a Stranger be, poor and unknown,
Yet by thy richer Virtue 'tis well shown,
Thy Stock could not be mean; Nor in my Eyes,
Can any Riches equal thy Loves prise?

Sylvander.
Be merciful, and cherish not my Flame,
It thus to fan, thou do'st t'inflame the same;
Tell me thou do'st me hate, invent some Spite,
With less Displeasure I may leave the Light.

Diana.
And leave me charg'd, with a distastful Crime
Would never be wip'd out with any Time;
Nor must you reassume the right you gave
To your disposure; which I only have;
By force whereof, I charge you not exact
Of your own self any unlawful Act
Against thy self; Do'st thou believe my Love
Is yet so faint, it gladly would not prove,
Ev'n what thou now against thy self dost threat,
I would it often on my self repeat,
Until this Trunk, Sacrifices became
Num'rously infinite, as our fair Loves flame,
But that those Pow'rs divine who have us plac't
In these fair Holds, forbid to have them rac'd
By us, to whose Charge they did them commit,
Which Office we, till cal'd, must not remit.

Sylvander.
Such are their Summons, th'Oracles Decree,
VVhich must by Mortal not rejected be.
Sylvander, his desires must not pretend
Until the same Sylvander have an End:
VVhy should we struggle with their immov'd Will.
To them be pious, grant I may it fulfil;
Else kind to me, withhold not my Desire,
Accomplish it; but bid me to expire.

Diana.
No more with these Fears my frail thoughts distract,
Till I am Others, see thou it protract;
Mean while, take this assurance which I give,
Then not as thine, rather I had not live:
She gives him her hand to kiss.
Farewel, I fear my Mothers sad Surprise.

Sylvander.
Nought fear I worse, then parting from those Eyes.