University of Virginia Library

[Scene IV.]

Ye Scene Shifts to an Orange Grove.
Enter King Zoroastres.
Zor.
Soe now I'le satisfye my love. My son,
Who is my rivall, I have sent to wars,
For I must own it, that Cyane's beauty
Has surprised mee,
And heated my age into feircest love.
But lest you Beautys should think this a sin,
[Bows to ye Boxes.
Though age without, Thanke jove, I'me youth within.

[Shakes himself.
Cyane appears at ye other end of ye walk alone. The King meets her.
Zor.
Madam, whilest you walk here thus all alone,
You seem as if you did some loss bemoan.
How strangely you are melancholy grown!
Can nothing here divert, or please your sight?
Why should dark groves bee only your delight?
Speak but ye word, ten thousand Cupids here
Shall presently in antick forms appear,
Headed with ye wing'd and glorious god, Love.

Cy.
Soe little I am known unto that God,
That I'me affraid he'le fright mee with his sight.

Zor.
Love never sckares wheen hee comes cloath'd in light.
But if you dread to see that glorious god,
Like great Jove I'le embrace you in a cloud.

Cy.
Heavens protect mee! I begin to fear.

Zor.
Heavens are vain, when I ye Jove am here.
But why, dear Madam, should you dread my sight?
My godship I'le lay by, if that does fright,
And bee again a good substantiall man.

Cy.
I'de rather have you bee a god agen
Than act like those strange things which you call men,
For I have heard gods favour woemankind.

Zor.
Then mee a god, or like a god you'le find.
Madam, a god—

[Offers to embrace.
Cy.
Phoo! pray, Sir, let mee goe,
For I'me an Atheist to such gods as you.
I meant those glorious gods that bee soe high,
All those bright things that twinckle in ye scky.

Zor.
There's none of those are capable of love;
They can't love half soe well as I above.

Cy.
You are mistaken, Sir. Ye glorious sun
Already has his love to mee begun.
I'me sure hee is in Love, for when I pray,
Hee blushing hearkens unto what I say.

Zor.
Insulting Persia now is turn'd my foe
And I have some pretence for what I doe.
The sun my Rivall!—Heaven does conspire
T'extinguish quite my new created fire.
—But can you love soe gray a god as hee,
An one ey'd god! and Hackney of ye scky?
Soe ye Fair Semele did Jove admire,
And perish'd in that Love she did desire.
Other faults too hee has, which I can name.

Cy.
Doe if you dare. I'le vindicate his flame.

Zor.
This thought, Madam, will all your hopes destroy.
Hee'le rise soe poor, you can't him half enjoy.

Cy.
'Tis false,—hee's a god, and shall bee my Lord,
Eternally by mee shall bee ador'd.
Not only days, but years hee can make night,
If hee but pleases for to hide his Light.
And if e're I'me his, I'le walk ye sacred ground,
Whilest all ye wond'ring gods stand wishing round,
When you, poor Monarck, shall bee mortell found!
Hee as ye sun shall have ye Reins by day,
Whilest I ye night like bright Diana sway.
I'le bee his Heaven, and my arms ye sphere,
In which hee walks ye circle of his year.

Zor.
And is there ne're a star that will love mee?

Cy.
Noe, as long as I am Queen of Beauty.

Zor.
Is this ye Recompense for all my care,
And must my Age bee slight'd by your Youth?

Cy.
Age is an inconsiderate plea in Love,
Always shoots short and flags his Mark.

Zor.
Hold, Madam. I'me a king, and have been told
A Monarck never can bee thought too old,
But 'tis my son, who in your heart does thrive,
And Rebell like dares reign, whil'st I'me alive.
Yet hee shall find, though to that height hee's grown,
I'le bee as abs'lute in my love, as throne.

Cy.
You and your son are both alike to mee,
Therefore pray, Sir, let there noe diff'rence bee,
For I'me to all Loves a perfect Enemy.

Zor.
Could I beleive, my Joy would still remain,
To think that Youth noe more than Age could gain.
But, Madam, Heaven never would bestow
Soe great a Beauty only for a show.

Cy.
What ye great gods, I know not, have design'd,
But I am sure to Love I'me not inclin'd.
Free is my soul and ranges all—
Noe tyrant thoughts my heart shall ever move,
Nor awfull Greatness dare mee into love.

Zor.
Your hatred, Madam, has rous'd up that rage,
Which Love might soften, and would still asswage.
Hee that has pow'r, won't love too long in vain.

[Turns away.
Cy.
How! am I threaten'd? dare you m' honour stain?

Zor.
Urge it noe more—
Recant what you have said, and say you love,
Or I will force you, by immortall Jove.
Consider—

Cy.
Doe, Tarquin reviv'd! Force mee if you dare.
D'yee think I can't bee a Lucrece and fair?
Know Tyrant I doe all thy threats defy.
'Tis not in thee to make mee love—

Zor.
To dye.

Cy.
Death I would sooner take than life with you.

Zor.
Too much your anger you doe now pursue.
The fair I would not willingly offend.

Cy.
I don't desire you, Sir, to bee my freind
Once more I tell you, you pursue in vain.

Zor.
Madam—

Cy.
Why will you force mee to complain?
Woemen are naturally soe—mild, soe—still,
That when we're angry,—'tis against our—will,
But you must urge us on, and still persuade,
That wee are only for your uses made.
Ah, if by mee they would but once bee rul'd!
I durst engage, they never should bee fool'd. [Exit.


Zor.
Return, Cyane, I'le bee young again.
My smother'd love will kindle into flame.
But oh! she's gon—and I must follow.
—Remember, Gallants, that you have been told,
You'de better love when young, than when you're old.