University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Philander, Bellinda.
Bel.
Nay I could tel you too
A hundred other stories, as how the Cabin,
Wherein y'ad inclos'd me from seeing
The danger of the storm, by a violent wave
Being washt away, and driven here on shore,
I ever since have only sustain'd my life,
With expectation of your arrival here;
My dreams, the faint shadows of our waking thoughts,
And oftentimes obscure representations
Of future Events, being so favourable still,
To promise me that happinesse, and your life,
Til at last, wearied out with long expectancy,
And my six moneths Residence here almost expir'd,
I took resolution to abjure the Isle,
And depart in search of you, just as you arived here,—
Mean time, I'll warrant ye, you ne'r thought of me?

Phil.
Alas! no sooner I saw
Your danger, and was o'th' point
(Had I not violently been withheld)
To cast my self after you into the Sea,
But Pirats making tow'rds us
All resistless took us Captives, we paying so
At expence of our Liberties the Ransom of our Lives,
So straightly guarded the whilst, as till th'other day
I was releas'd, (I as soon cou'd tell
To send to th'other world, as well
As when you were) when repairing to
The Oracle, by its directions I found you out—
But tell me,
How have you past your time here ever since?
And pray, who is that Philena and that Euphanes
Y'ave contracted so straight an Amity withall?

Bel.
O y'ar jealous ar ye?—I could find in my heart I faith
To defer answering you, til I had inform'd my self
What Mistresses you have had since I saw you last—
But not to hold you longer in suspense,
Know that Philena is a noble Nymph
Of Cypres here who when I was cast on shore
First found me, and hospitably entertained me,
And Euphanes one wou'd needs love me against my Will:
To avoid whose importunity,
I promis'd if any in the Isle I lov'd
It shou'd be him; now are you satisfied?
Or shall I bring you all Cypres to testifie
How like a Salamander midst of other flames,
To all their admirations, I have still lived here as cold as Ice,
And yet you are jealous?

Phi.
Not jealous sweet, but so covetous of the dear
Treasure I've in thy Love, as I confess
When then prayest in the Temple to the Gods above,
I ev'n do grudge 'um part of it.

Bel.
She inclines her head gently on his bosom.
Fie, to those who have given't you all?
That is too much Philander,—but oh my dear
What wou'd I have given a few days since for
The happiness I now injoy, to which,
Through how many miseries have I past?

Phil.
That, dearest, is it that gives our present joyes
The sweeter tast and relish, none being more
Happy than those were miserable before;
But who are these come here?

Bel.
Some neighbour Swains it seems,
Who in kind expressions of their loves, are come
To present us with som Pastoral shew, or Rural masque.