University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Enter Varanes and Aranthes.
Vara.
Come to my Arms, my faithful, dear Aranth
Soft Counsellor, Companion of my Youth;
If I had longer been alone, most sure,
With the Distraction that surrounds my Heart,
My Hand would have rebelled against his Master,
And done a Murder here.

Aranth.
The Gods forbid.

Vara.
I swear, I press thee with as hearty Joy,
As ever fearful Bride embrac'd her Man,
When from a Dream of Death she wak'd and found
Her Lover safe, and sleeping by her side.

Aranth.
The Cause, my Lord?

Vara.
Early thou know'st last Night I went to rest;
But long, my Friend, e'er Slumber clos'd my Eyes;
Long was the Combat fought, 'twixt Love and Glory;
The Fever of my Passion burnt me up,
My Pangs grew stronger, and my Rack was doubled;
My Bed was all a-float with the cold drops
That mortal Pain wrang from my lab'ring Limbs;
My Groans more deep than others dying Gasps:
Therefore, I charge thee, haste to her Apartment;
I do conjure thee tell her, tell her all
My Fears can urge, or Fondness can invent:
Tell her how I repent, say any thing;
For any thing I'll do to quench my Fires:
Say, I will marry her now on the instant:
Say all that I would say; yet in the end
My Love shall make it more than Gods can utter.

Aranth.
My Lord! both Leontine and she are gone
From their Apartment—

Vara.
Ha! gone, sayst thou! whither?

Aranth.
That was my whole Employment all this day:
But, Sir, I grieve to speak it, they have left
No track behind for Care to find 'em out;
Nor is it possible—

Vara.
It is, it shall;
I'll struggle with impossibilities,
To find my Athenais: Not the Walls
Of Athens, nor of Thebes, shall hide her from me:
I'll bring the Force of all my Fathers Arms,
And lay 'em waste, but I'll redeem my Love.
O, Leontine! morose old Leontine,
Thou meer Philosopher! O cruel Sage,
Who for one hasty word, one Cholerick doubt,
Hast turn'd the Scale; though in the sacred Balance
My Life, my Glory, and my Empire hung.

Aranth.
Most sure, my Lord, they are retir'd to Athens,
I will send Post to Night—

Vara.
No, no, Aranthes,
Prepare my Chariots, for I'll go in Person;
I swear 'till now, 'till I began to fear
Some other might enjoy my Athenais,
I swear, I did not know how much I lov'd her;
But let's away, I'll to the Emperour,
Thou to the hasty management of my business;
Prepare, to day I'll go, to day I'll find her:
No more; I'll take my leave of Theodosius,
And meet thee on the Hippodrome: away,
Let the wild hurry of thy Masters Love,
Make quick thy apprehension: Haste, and leave me.

[Exeunt.