University of Virginia Library

Scene quarta.

Scene, a Chamber.
Enter Phedima, and Orinda, with Atossa, Auretta, and other waiting Ladies.
Orind.
Sister, you are so fortunate, to have
The Persian Monarch for your Beauty's Slave!

Phed.
No, in my Love Ambition has no part
Monarchs may rule an Empire, not a heart.
Whilst my Darius lodges here, my breast
Too narrow is for any other guest.
May Smerdis still the Persian Scepter bear,
And may he still Reign ev'ry where—but here.

[Points to her Breast.
Orind.
Does then your Breast no other thoughts produce?
Love, like Wars Combats, should admit some truce.
Your pardon, Sister, if so bold I prove
To tell you what Orinda thinks of Love.
Atossa, sing the Song I taught you.

Atossa
sings.

Enter Theramnes, with a Letter.
Ther.
This Letter your perusal asks.

Phed.
—From whom
Do you, Theramnes, in Embassage come?

Ther.
My message, Madam, you will find writ there,
Both in the Subject, and the Character.

[Exit.
[Phedima opens the Letter, and reads to her self, and seems disorder'd.
Orind.
What strange disorders in her looks arise?
How she casts darts of fury from her eyes?

Phed.
Shame and confusion has so fill'd my breast,
That I want patience to reade out the rest.
Sister, do you proceed, look, and see there,
What you will blush to reade, and I to hear.

Orinda
reades the Letter.

Theramnes, to the Constant Phedima.

Since our mutual Vows of Love have rais'd me to a pitch above hope or fear, to
such an assurance of your affection, that I find the greatest Monarch in the
World cannot supplant me in your esteem, nor raise his Love on the ruines of mine; You
then, who have given my passion life, have given it also confidence to request the speedy
crowning of our desires, to avoid the trouble of more numerous Rivals, which your
Beauty cannot but daily add to your former Conquests. But since the immediate service
of my King will not permit me as yet to wait upon you, be pleas'd to send me an
Answer, but such an one (as I doubt not but you will) as shall proclaim me, as I
am, your most faithful, so your most happy adorer,

Theramnes.

Phed.
Proud Traytor to my Honour and his own:
His confidence swells to a height unknown,
To dare—

Orind.
Why? Sister, Lovers dare do more.

Phed.
Lovers! why? did he ever speak before?
Or utter the least syllable, or word,
T'express I was the object he ador'd?
Contracts, and promises, which I have giv'n?
Perfidious Lyar both to Me and Heav'n!

Orind.
But perhaps he your kindness has mistook;
For Lovers track their Fates in ev'ry look
Their Ladies do impart; and ev'ry glance
Does to an unknown height their hopes advance.
The Languages of Ladies smiles suffice
For Lovers to reade contracts in their eyes.
Did you ne're smile, or some kind favours show?

Phed.
Yes, what my Friendship did oblige me to.
But could his proud thoughts so ambitious prove,
To dare to think my Friendship was my Love?
No, Traytor, no. Theramnes, you shall find,
Choosing a Mistress, you have lost a Friend.
But that which my disdain and anger moves,
Is not so much because Theramnes Loves:
Th'effects of Beauty Beauty can forgive:
And we can pity those we can't relieve.
But that which merits my just scorn, is this;
That he should think my Conquest easie is.
Whilst in this Letter which you now have read,
He does for Triumph, not for Conquest plead.
As if a Ladies breast no courage held;
But our tame souls were onely taught to yield.

Orind.
Your furious anger too much freedom finds,
Silence becomes the passions of great minds.

Phed.
Sister, I've done. Auretta, go and burn
This Letter. Thus I'le Triumph in my scorn.

Auretta.
Condemn'd to th'fire! That Sentence which you give,
[Aside.
Too cruel is, I'le grant it a reprieve.
[Exit Auretta, with the Letter.

Phed.
But seeing he an answer does require,
I'le be so kind, I'le grant him his desire:
But such an answer as shall make it known
I understand his merits, and my own.

[Exeunt.