University of Virginia Library

SCENE draws, and discovers Antimora sitting by a Table reading.
Enter Amphialus.
Amph.
See where the charming Antimora sits,
Calm and serene as in her better State;
Nor has a Prison power to change her Mind.
Joy to the Crown of all my wisht content,
The kind, the fair, the lovely Antimora.

Ant.
'Tis you must bring it then, for there's no Joy
Beside my dear Amphialus's Faith.

Amph.
'Tis thine, so wholly thine, there's not a Sigh
That heaves my Breast, but whispers Antimora,
M'observant Mind retains no thought but thee,
Thus could I gaze for ever on thy Face,
And mighty reason justify my Eyes,
So fast my Soul is link't by Love to thine,
That I could die for thee without a groan.

Ant.
Can I not boast an equal strength of Love,
Oh sure no Maids did ever equal mine,
For the Arcadia's most delightful Plains
Are quite forgot, and all the pompous Court,
Is nothing in my thoughts compar'd with thee,
These Prison-Walls when thou'rt inclos'd within,
Brings more delight than Liberty and Empire,
'Tis the wide World and all I want is here.

Amph.
Oh Words as soft as is the down of Swans,
And Voice more sweet than are their dying Notes,

Ant.
My Unkle now that fills Arcadia's Throne
Whose loss of Victory I should more lament,
Had he not conquer'd been by thee, but now
I scarce can pay the Duty which I ought,
Because he is declar'd thy mortal Foe.
Oh Amphialus! if those Vows can bind,
That Hymen crown'd when I became thy Slave,
I beg—

Amph.
Ha! say'st thou!—stop that hated Word—my Wife.

(embraces.
Ant.
That thou Ambition wouldst no more pursue,
But give up all to Love.

Amph.
I would—be witness every Star that shines.
But 'tis not in my power—nor must I tell the Queen,
That Antimora's mine, by Marriage mine,
Oh the transporting Joys that fill that thought
Is far above a Mortal to describe.

Ant.
Will then the Queen Zelmane prove unkind,
Thou saidst my Ransom should thy Service pay;
Is it denied, or wilt thou never ask it?

Amph.
I dare not let the weighty secret go,
Least the sad tale destroy her peaceful Hours.
(aside
That yet I've not requested of the Queen,
The Liberty I promis'd to restore,
Is that her half Brother Prince Arbaces
Got the start, and begg'd he might address you,
I know th'attempt could bring no ill effect,
Tho' leave was given him, thou wert left to chuse.

Ant.
Oh name him not, my Soul abhors his sight.
I've oft been treated with his nauseous Love,
I long for freedom to avoid that suit,
Tho' Love's the same in every Humane Breast,
Yet different Men express it different ways,
Tho' each may charm some tender Maid to pity,
What wins the one, the other cannot move,
And so it is with me, Amphialus,
When first I saw thee in my Fathers Court,
I felt a gentle  beating at my Heart ,
And e're thou spok'st, I lov'd thee.

Amph.
Oh Sympathy! thou dear revealer of our Souls,
At that instant that my Eyes beheld thee,
That Dart rebounded from my Breast to thine.
Oh I could talk whole Ages of our Love,
And yet untir'd tell the Tale again.

Ant.
And I like Eccho could repeat the sound,
And wish for nought but Liberty and thee,
What Musick flows from those dear Lips of thine,
What soft what sweet inchanting strains I hear,
No tempting Syren ever charm'd like thee.
Oh Love!
What vast addition does thy Words receive,
When utter'd by Amphialus; and Oh!
What do they suffer when another speaks them.

Amph.
Oh Antimora! cease, cease thy transports,
Or I forgetful of my Queens Commands,
Shall stay for ever here.

Ant.
Oh my boding Soul! what does she Command?

Amph.
I'll tell thee sweet, but do not be dismaid,
This Morning from the Camp Express arriv'd
That some few Squadrons of the Enemy,
Had burnt some Towns on our Corinthian Coast;
And I have Orders to draw out my Men,
And send Dispatches to the place distrest.
Methinks my Courage is but half awake,
Cause 'tis against thy Subjects I must fight.

Ant.
Oh how I dread the approaching Scene of Fate,
Not for my Country, but for thy dear Life;
My Heart with violence beats against my Breast,
And makes my poor Bosome sore with striking.
Yet go,
For painful are the Hours we pass in doubt,
But Oh! be careful of thy precious Life,
Press not too far for Antimora's sake;
Make hast, my Love, be swift in thy return,
Then ask my freedom and declare our Marriage.

Amph.
Thou choicest Blessing that the World e're knew,
I will with utmost diligence thy Laws obey.
But I conjure thee by our holy Fires,
Let not the secret of our Marriage scape,
Till I my self reveal it.

Ant.
It never shall be told by me, till you
Permit, by our chast Loves I swear, an Oath
I would not violate for Corinth's Crown:
No Matter what your reasons are for that,
Amphialus can never break his Faith.

Amph.
When I to Antimora prove untrue,
May I be branded with a Cowards Name,
And lose the Honour I have gained in War;
Nay more, may you despise and scorn me too.

(embraces
Ant.
Oh all ye Guardian Stars protect my Love,
My Lord, my Life, my Husband, I charge ye,
Permit no insiduous Slave to hurt him,
But shield him from the fury of the War.
When thou art gone, what can my Eyes delight,
Thou art my Sun, and when we part 'tis Night.
No dawn of Comfort will my Sorrows know,
But sad and dismal as the Shades below,
Where poys'nous damps and sickly vapours grow.
Not one poor Star my wandring Bark to steer,
Till thy return 'twill all be darkness here.

Amph.
So Merchants beaten by tempestuous Winds,
Unlade their Wealth and leave it all behind,
Though much of toil it cost to gain the store,
They're forc'd to part from what their Souls adore;
So I by Duty and by Honour drove,
Am torn away from that bright Saint I love.

(Exeunt severally.
The Prison shuts.
Pirotto solus.
Pirot.
Thou for thy Love, fond Prince, shalt dearly pay,
If this projecting Brain deceive me not,
I've laid a Scheem with Machiavilian Art,
Beyond the power of Magick to undo,
Oh for the Prince of Scythia now to aid,
And help my lab'ring Soul in this design,
He comes as if infernal Furies meant,
To lend an Arm to push the mischief on.
Enter Albaces.
My Lord, I have surprising News to tell,
That will your noblest Faculties inflame.

Arb.
Say's my Friend, dost thou then bring me comfort,
Or must I ever languish in despair.

Pirot.
If to know your Mistress hates and loaths you,
More than Insects of a poys'nous kind,
Or to inform you that her Heart's bestow'd;
Or if to tell you that these Eyes have seen,
Transports as great as ever Lover gave,
Can bring you comfort, then you have it, Sir.

Arb.
Thou wouldst inform me of a Rival sure,
Yes, that silent Bow declares it. Name the Wretch,
And let my fury loose—Who is the curst, the happy he?

Pirot.
Who but Amphialus durst presume so high,
To stamp his Image on Arbaces Coin.

Arb.
Amphialus! Oh all ye Powers I thank ye.
How know you this?

Pirot.
I overheard their whole Discourse.

Arb.
My Soul a double portion of revenge takes in,
I feel the addition of this last discovery,
My Heart with malice swells to such a pitch,
As makes my Breast too narrow for its room.
Oh Pirotto! if e're I favour'd thee,
In ought thy Soul most wish'd for here on Earth,
Assist me now to blast this spreading Cedar,
To lop his choicest strongest Branches off,
And leave his Trunk unguarded to the Wind,
Whose blasts shall shake and tear him from the Earth.

Pirot.
Be calm—
And give your anger scope another way,
The Captive Princess you have leave to visit,
Who now y'are certain never will be yours,
I have contriv'd and smooth'd a ready way,
To satisfie your Love and your Revenge,
And wound Amphialus in the tend'rest part.

Arb.
I understand thee, and my Veins beat high,
And all my Sences seem to dance with Joy.
Yes, Antimora, yes, thou scornful fair,
I'll riot on thy Charms with vast delight,
Rifle thy Secrets with such profuse excess,
That in an instant shall a surfeit bring,
Then to my hated Rival leave thee.

Pirot.
Then throw the Guilt on him,

Arb.
Excellent; and so to Scythia take our way,
Where I, my Friend, will make thee Great.

Pirot.
I'll to the Queen, where I such things will tell,
As shall confound her Reason, and destroy her Love.
This for my proof—

(Stabs his Arm.
Arb.
What mean'st thou?

Pirot.
Within I'll tell you all my fix'd design,
Be yours the pleasure, and the Plot be mine.

Arb.
Let me embrace thee, thou Genius to Arbaces,
Thy Plots like Hydra's Heads succeed so fast,
They out-strip the Tongue and leave even thought behind.
Fly to the Queen and rouze the Woman in her,
Urge all that malice can invent or form,
To blast this curst Usurper of my right;
Whilst I such mighty draughts of bliss receive,
As strong desire could wish or mighty Beauty give.

(Exeunt together.