University of Virginia Library

[Scene IV.

A Chamber in Altemera's Palace.]
Enter Altemera and Candaces.
Alt.
Oh, my Candaces! I did still esteeme
That was a vision, which thou calls't a dreame,
And nothing made mee thinke the last itt was,
Butt, when I saw him to the Scaffold passe,
And there undauntedly to loose his head,
That fatall blow struck mee nott alsoe dead.

Cand.
Yor Greifs, I grant, are just for Lucidor,
Since hee is now within his Rivalls power,
Butt yett this, Madam, may your greifs subdue,—
As hee's his foe, soe hee's yor Lover too.
The name of Rivall threatens noe such ill,
Butt that of Lover is above itt still.

Alt.
Alas! Candaces, thou in this hast showne
The boundles power of Love thou ne'ere hast knowne!
Love is a passion still, and that's the cause
'Twill nott bee rul'd by reasons certaine Lawes.
Love is compos'd of riddles and excesse.
Oft 'twill doe more than reason, oftener lesse.
Hee that will freely dye att my Command
Will, in some cases, even my feares withstand,
And firmely thinkes hee does more love dispense
In his deniall, than obedience.
The Justice of those thinges wc h I approve,
Hee measures more by reason than by Love.

Cand.
Ah! Madam, thinke nott I a stranger am
To love, and onely know him butt by name;
Yett I have felt his power, and in such height,
All wounds besides, compar'd to mine, are slight.
Never did love till now inflict such woes.
I burne, butt dare nott my feirce flames disclose.

Alt.
Your case I pitty; therfore lett mee know
The persons name wc h has inflam'd you soe.
Perhaps my helpe may bringe you some releif,
And if nott cure, att least may ease your greif.

Cand.
Your helpe, I know, the powerfull'st will appeare,
Butt my case is above all helpe, I feare.

Alt.
May I nott doubt, since Love with soe much pow're
Invades yor heart, itt burnes for Lucidor?

Cand.
Were I a man, his fate, I must confesse,
I would imbrace as the first happinesse;
For even as I am, I never knew
What joy meant, till I gave my selfe to you;
And were I sure to have a larger part,
Than Lucidor possesses of yor heart,
To make that noblest Empire soe much mine,
I thinke I shou'd all other aimes decline.

Alt.
This flattering answer you returne to mee
Makes what was butt a doubt a certainty.
Blush nott that I to light this truth have brought.
Yor Love is a misfortune, nott a fault;
And how can I in you that passion blame,
When I too burne in that resistlesse flame?

Cand.
Thinke nott what I as a high truth did tell
Was an imagin'd passion to conceale.
Butt all yor Doubts intirely to remove,
I sweare that Lucidor I doe nott love,
And since I wou'd be first in yor Esteeme,
Hee being soe, I cannott sure love him.
I tell you who 'tis nott, and if I doe
E're tell who 'tis, itt shall bee first to you.
If you aske further, I must disobey.
Lett mee in silence mourne my life away.

Alt.
'Twere rudenesse then further to presse you now.
Butt tell mee, pray, since to Loves power you bow,
Wou'd you yor life, to save yor Lover, give?

Cand.
Wou'd I! more willingly than I would live!

Alt.
Butt could ought make you yor Loves hopes depose?

Cand.
A thousand lives I loose sooner than those;
And though faint hopes are all I can call mine,
Yett for a world those hopes I'de nott decline.

Alt.
Judge then, Candaces, by what now you say,
If Clorimun will my desire obey.

Cand.
Ah, give mee leave to say itt is a crime
To thinke that any passion equalls mine.
In such a way love does my brest inspire,
Other loves are butt warmth, butt mine a fire.
Butt 'tis a fire soe pleasing and soe high,
That, Martyr like, I triumph while I die.

[Weepes.
A hott Alarum. One cries out within:

“Arme, Arme, Arme, the sally port is won,
And the fierce Enemy is in the Towne.”

Alt.
Alas! Candaces, what noise is't I heare,
Which does my trembling heart wound through my eare?

Enter a page hastily.
Page.
Fly, Madam, Fly, or else you are undone;
The Towne is now possesst by Clorimun.
In vaine yor Souldiers have his armes withstood;
Dead bodies pave the Streetes, wc h run with bloud.
Hundreds have from his sword receiv'd their fates,
And hee is now entring yor palace gates.

Alt.
Great Gods, what sins are Lucidor's and mine,
Which makes you to us both such fates assigne?
Butt you are just, and therfore I'le nott feare
You'le lay on us above what wee can beare.

A Noyse att the Doore and Clorimun speaking to his Officers.
Clor.
Your valeurs wages the whole Towne shall bee,
Butt heere resides shee that's ador'd by mee.
Lett noe rude feete presume to enter heere,
And lett noe dying cries offend her eare.
Enter Clorimun with his sword bloody.
Pardon mee, Altemera, that I dare,
Before your innocence, guilt's livery weare.
And yett that sin you needes must thinke itt lesse,
Than by itt I enjoy of happinesse.
Since fate did mee soe longe from you divorce,
Itt did provoke mee to make use of force.
This action you shou'd nott condemne, butt prize,
Since 'tis th'effect of your triumphant eyes.

Alt.
You raise mee only to a higher State,
Therby your owne sin to extenuate.
Those Gods wc h wee adore have never sent
Their punishments uppon the innocent.
Butt those sad cryes, wc h in my eares still sound,
By sympathy much worse than death doe wound.

Clor.
I have already orders sent to sheath
The souldiers swords on paine of instant death,
And to acquaint the living that they owe
Only to yor commands their being soe.
Butt, Madam, is itt just that you shou'd shed
Such pretious showers for those that are butt dead,
And that my case, which does much worse appeare,
Cannott, to give itt ease, obtaine one teare?
Those which are kill'd are from all ills releast,
And from their Troubles are redeem'd to rest,
Butt my deepe miseries know noe Reprieve.
A thousand deaths I die and yett still live.
My waking thoughts my paine still freshe does keepe,
Nor are my dreames lesse torturing when I sleepe.
Joy does your Clorimun soe dissesteeme,
Hee cannott tast itt though butt in a dreame.

Alt.
In common sufferinges there is some releif
In teares, the common Evidence of greif;
But, cou'd you see within my brest, you'd finde
Your sufferinges have the sorrow of my minde,
Which rather shou'd induce you to deplore
What I now beare, than load mee yett with more.
The grossest thinges our senses entertaine;
The most refin'd, invisible remaine.

Clor.
Yett, Madam, love still takes delight to give,
By publique actinges, proofs that itt does live.
To the blest person wc h your Love does sway
You wou'd nott practice that which now you say.
That is weake love, by all 'twill bee confest,
Which can bee still confin'd within the brest,
And ever in surprizes is soe aw'de
That itt does courage want to looke abroad.
A perfect flame all thinges does gett above;
Reason itt rules, or turnes itt into love.
'Tis absolute, what ever itt will doe,
Butt that itt never can itt self subdue.
Butt I misspend this pretious time, I see,
In teaching Love to her, that taught itt mee.

Alt.
From that Truth, Clorimun, confesse I know
More of Loves power and actinges than you doe.
Were love Corporeall, doubtlesse then the breast
Wou'd bee too small, to lodge soe great a Guest.
Acting is nott itt's naturall agree;
Oft itt is choice, oft 'tis necessity.
That friendshipp I on Clorimun bestow
Is as neare love, as ought that is nott soe.
And that itt is nott love, I had nott knowne,
Butt that my heart I can butt give to one.

Clor.
Cruell as faire, my flame thus to deride,
Cou'd you have found noe other way beside
To tell mee how much you on mee bestow,
Butt how much more 'tis you have giv'n my foe?
Spight of yor scorne, yor beauties I'le adore.
'Tis past my power to love you lesse or more.
Butt from yor vast disdaine this good I'le gett,
Fully to prove my love as vaster yett.
I'le Court you soe, that I att length will prove
You're mine by right, and onely his by Love.

Enter Thrasolin.
Thras.
Gesippus, Sr, is come post from the Kinge,
And does such pressing orders to you bringe,
That with impatience hee bid mee say,
To speake with you, hee in the streete does stay.

Clor.
Gesippus come, and come in such hast too!
Pardon mee, madame, that I leave you now.

Alt.
Alasse! your virtue only can controll
Those feares his comeing gives my frighted Soule.

Clor.
Faire Altemera, quiet all your feares.
'Tis I am yours, not you my Prisoner.
And where I beare Command, you have more pow'r
Than were you in the Camp of Lucidor.

[Exeunt Clor. and Thras.
Alt.
Ah! Sure hee knew, though he would not confesse
The true cause of those feares I did expresse,
Which Justly doe my greifes the more advance.
His answere was his Craft, not Ignorance;
And nought soe soone cou'd bring Gesippus here
But to act that which more than death I feare.
Use all wayes, my Candaces, to find out
If that is Certaintie, which yet is doubt.
Those plagues, which fortune on my freind has throwne,
Give mee not leisure to deplore my owne.

[Exeunt.