University of Virginia Library

SCENA PRIMA.

Enter Sir William Stanly and Mrs. Stanly.
Mrs. Stanly.
Run not so fast: you tread on slippery Ice,
And on both sides lyes a vast Precipice.

Sir Will. Stanly.
My Stars have led me on to hazard all;
And rather, then turn back again, I'le fall.

Mrs. Stanly.
The Rash will perish, and they fall unmourn'd;
And losing Life, their memory is scorn'd.
Attempts upon the King must fatal prove;
Much more your Aims at the great Princess Love.
Against so Potent Foes what can you do,
The King, great Richmond, and the Princess too?

Sir Will. Stanly.
Those Rivals shortly may themselves destroy,
And then why may not I the Prize enjoy?
When on their Ruines I shall raised be,
It will be level ground 'twixt her, and me.

Mrs. Stanly.
Do not your thoughts on these Chimeras spend,
Impossible both in their means and End.
Could you as speedily in fact subdue
All those great Powers, as now in thought you do,
Yet you might sooner scale high Heaven, then gain
That Love, which wild ambition would obtain.

Sir Will. Stanly.
If to my courage she her lost Crown owe,
I may partake the Gift which I bestow.
Our Souls have equal Fineness: you mistake,
Thinking, our drossie Parts the Difference make.

Mrs. Stanly.
Have you the Tyrant's strength? who are alone
In Passion strong, which we our Weakness owne.
Consult your Reason: 'Tis a dangerous thing,
Poor Subject! to be Rival to thy King.

Sir Will. Stanly.
To Cowards talk of Danger: Love, and Fear
In the same Heart Joint-Tenants never were.

Mrs. Stanly.
Dear Brother, these sick Fancies, pray, remove:
Know this last secret; She does Richmond love.

Sir Will. Stanly.
Too late you tell me this, when in one Flood
The Poyson runs about me with my Blood.

Mrs. Stanly.
Love and all madness, Brother, ever raign
Much lesse about the Heart, then in the Brain:
Lovers may blame their Stars, or Cupid's Bow;
Here dwells the Heat, whence their Distempers grow.
[Points to her head.]
Those, who are most possest with this Disease,
By Sleep, and cooling med'cines found their Ease.

Sir Will. Stanly.
This sharpness, Sister, ought to be forborn;
My Sufferings ask your Pity, not your Scorn.

[Enter the Princess and Charlot.
Mrs. Stanly.
Here comes the Princess. Brother, pray, retire:
I wish, my Tears could quench your Raging Fire.

[Exit Sir William Stanly.