University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

ARCAS alone.
Arcas.
Hail! to the rising Day! Hail! waking Nature!
Ye verdant Plains, ye Hills, and fertile Valleys,
Ye lowing Herds, and fleecy bleating Flocks,
Ye warbling Groves, and murmuring Fountains, Hail!
Once yet again I see the annual Morn
That gave me Birth, and counts me into Age.
O! Phœbus hear! God of refulgent Skies!
[Kneels.
All-glorious Ruler of revolving Light,
Author of Medicine, and Immortal Song,
Deign to receive these Thanks of Adoration!
Thanks for thy Course of rolling Years enjoy'd,
That thus have, unafflicted, born me through
The various Periods of appointed Life!
The Spring of Infancy, Summer of Youth,
The reaping Autumn of experienc'd Man,
Down for the Winter of unaching Age.
Thanks to the Comforts of a genial Bed,
Now ripening to the Joys of Love, and Virtue.
Such are the Blessings from thy Beams receiv'd,
And these, O Phœbus! are the Thanks we pay thee.
Ægon singing within.
Hark! from the Vale, I hear the Jovial Voice
Of Ægon, blyth, and lusty, as the Summer,
Nor bending to the Burthen of his Years;
Joeund he comes, and chaunting to the Day,
With friendly Gratulation—Ægon, Hail!
Enter Ægon.
Health, and the Blessings of the Morn, be thine.

Æg.
Why ay, my Lord! this Day is blest indeed!
It gave you Life, and me the best of the Friends;
And to that Friend I owe my jovial Heart.

Arc.
Thanks to thy Love: thy jolly Voice, tho'rough
As is the Billow curling to the Beach,
Revives the Images of Pleasure past,
When Mirth and Revels were excus'd by Youth.

Æg.
Excus'd by Youth, my Lord! You make me smile:
Is there a stated Time, in this short Life,
That makes it Wisdom to be sad,
Or Weakness to be happy! No:
Let Policy, or Guile, disguise their Face!
But Honesty dares hold it to the Sun!
May we have a Cause for Gladness, and not shew it?
Was't not this happy Day that gave you Birth?
Are you not Lord of these Arcadian Plains?
Where, like the Substitute of Heav'nly Power,
You dole the Blessings you from thence receive,
And make a People, by your Bounty, happy.
Yet not more blest by Bounty, than Example:
Your Life has taught those Virtues, you reward.
And is not this a Cause for general Joy?
Are you not still the same belov'd Lord Arcas?
Are you not still that honest Nobleman?

Arc.
Suppose me so—

Æg.
—Why then, my Lord, let those
Be sad, who never wore but half that Title!
Let our Corinthian Lords be Grave, and Graceless:
The Privilege of Honesty is Mirth!

Arc.
Yet Charity becomes the Cheerful too.

Æg.
Mine, Sir, begins, where their Court-Friendship ends,
At home: Therefore I say we're happier Men,
Yet only Happy, as we're better too:
Shall Virtue then not taste her Benefits?
Shall only Knaves and spendthrift Heirs be jovial?
The Cheerfulness of Knaves is Impudence!
Have Courts a Joy, like sound Integrity?
When they shew that, I'll own'em wise; till when,
Let us be plainly pleas'd with Happiness.

Arc.
O Ægon! were I capable of Envy,
Thy turn of Mind would tempt me to repine!
Why have not I this cheerful Taste of Life?
Why seems my Plenty less than thy small Store?
What are my Wants? where are my Wishes bounded?
And yet—
'Twere happier to be Ægon, than be Arcas.

Æg.
You make me triumph o'er your Learning!
You, who have all Philosophy can wish,
Have made a Man much happier than your self,
By giving him a Tythe of your Possessions.

Arc.
Wouldst thou have more?

Æg.
—More than enough, Sir? No.
To crave, is Poverty; Contentment, Riches:
Your Tythe's almost too much for me.

Arc.
Thus Riches, when not wanted, lose their Name.

Æg.

Arc.
Excuse me, if I taste not now thy Muse,
Nor joyn thy Carrolls, with my usual Glee.

Æg.
Nay then, my Lord, there's something loads your Mind:
You wrong my Friendship, if you hide your Griefs.
Give me my share! Out with the worst at once

Arc.
Griefs I have none, but I confess have Fears,
And Doubts, that fill me with Anxiety.
Have we not each our Children's Happiness
In care? The Crisis of their Fate is now.

Æg.
And why, Sir, should you doubt their Happiness?
Have not our Precepts grounded them in Virtue?
Has not indulgent Nature given them Beauty?
And our Arcadian Manners Innocence?
Have they not been, from Infancy, Companions?
Their Lessons, Labours, and their Sports the same?
Have I not watch'd them, with a jealous Eye?
Yet never found a Warning, to suspect them.
At length, their blooming Friendship pays its Promise,
Obeys the Season, and matures to Love.
Whence then this anxious Doubt of their Misdoing?

Arc.
Perhaps, dear Ægon, I'm too diffident:
For though we've chang'd our Children, to prevent
In mine the conscious Pride of Birth; in thine,
To aid, with Birth, the Sentiments of Virtue:
Yet Nature still may be mis-led by Fortune:
Thus mine, believing Ægon is their Sire,
With views of Interest may dissemble Love,
Which unsuspicious Innocence may hear;
So thine, supposing Arcas is their Father,
In scorn, to mingle with inferior Blood,
May slight those Virtues, which deserve their Love.

Æg.
These Apprehensions might in Courts be just:
But here, where Love, without Ambition, reigns,
'Tis not high Birth, or Lands, or number'd Flocks;
But wealth of Virtue in the fair and young,
That gives the Nymph her Charms, the Swain his Merit.

Arc.
Still, I'm inclin'd to have their Virtue prov'd:
True Love is better known, by Grief, than Joy,
As Hope is often measur'd by our Fear.
Therefore (but not without my Friend advising)
I have some thoughts of offering thy Pastora
The noble Philemon's Heir, the gay Philautus,
Polisht in Courts, and skill'd in Vanities;
If then her Heart can stoop to such a Lure—

Æg.
I take your Meaning; and as just approve it:
If, when you offer to her Arms Philautus,
She shews a Fear, that you may force her Will,
That Fear will force her Love to own Amyntas:
If she admit Philautus, Amyntas, then,
Will well escape a Maid, below his Love,
And the proud Girl with her own Choice be punisht:
Then, let her hence, to blaze in Courts: Vain Wives
And shallow Husbands are no Monsters there.

Arc.
Yet hope a better Consequence: The Maid
Wants no Attraction, that commends her Sex.
Nor do I name Philautus, that I doubt her;
But that her Virtue may have Lustre from her Choice,
And, to Philautus, poor Amyntas be preferr'd.

Æg.
My Life, then, answer, that her Choice contents you:
The gaudy, tinsel Merit of Philautus
Will have a tarnisht Hue, to your Amyntas' Virtue.

Arc.
Thy Confidence, my Friend, has quell'd my Fears.
Be then, for Amyntas' sake, Pastora prov'd:
But we have still our younger-born unfixt:
How stand we there in Hope?—

Æg.
If I guess right,
A tender Passion too is kindling there:
Ianthe seems of late reserv'd to Iphis:
The Youth more pensive, and the Nymph more gay:
The usual Consequence of Love declar'd,
And Love with Maiden Modesty approv'd.
She flies, 'tis true, but flies to be pursued;
And urges the Pursuit, to sound his Love.

Arc.
Let him pursue: I would not wish the Maid
Should, on his Summons, yield to Iphis' Birth.

Æg.
But see, Amyntas comes; from him perhaps
More may be gather'd to assist our Measures.
Amyntas ho! whither so fast, my Son?

To them Amyntas.
Am.
Pastora tells me, Sir, a favourite Lamb
Is missing from her Flock. At her Request
I to the neighbouring Folds am hying.—

Æg.
—Stay;
I have a while, my Son, to talk with thee.
[Apart ...]
You see, my Lord, even Maids in Love are Woers.
Pastora would, but cannot, hide her Flame.
How amorously Coy! This Hint betrays it.
A Lamb is stray'd—why His the Charge to find it?
Her Heart, she means; her Breast, the Fold that lost it!
Yet he, Fond Youth, in honest Fear mistakes her. [... Apart]


Arc.
The modest Lover recommends his Flame:
But to our other point—

Æg.
Come near, Amyntas.

Am.
Health, and the Rays of many a smiling Morn,
Like this, prolong the Days of Arcas.

Arc.
Amyntas, I am Debtor to thy Love.

Æg.
I have observ'd of late, Lord Arcas Son,
Young Iphis, holds thee near his Heart, Amyntas:
Of course, his Joys and Cares are known to thee.
Now then, be just, my Boy; answer directly;
Has he yet ever told thee, that he lov'd?

Am.
Never—he never told me, that he lov'd.

Æg.
Amyntas, thou repeat'st my Words, as thou
Wouldst hold me to their litteral Sense: take heed!
Evade not what I mean—

Am.
I take your Meaning:
My Father knows, what's fit his Son should answer.

Æg.
Know'st thou then ought unfitting me to ask?

Am.
Your Question then, Sir, would require no Answer.

Æg.
How! so blunt! Am I not thy Father, Boy?

Am.
Such, Sir, my daily Prayers to Heaven, confess you.
Nor shall my Father sigh, that I'm his Son.

Arc.
No, generous Youth, thy Father sighs—to own thee.

[Aside.
Æg.
Whence are these half Replies? be full, I say,
And tell me what thou know'st of Iphis' Love.

Am.
The Precepts you have taught me reach no farther.
Pardon my Doubts; for I am yet to learn,
That Duty can dispense with broken Friendship.
'Till he declares he loves; am I to accuse him?

Æg.
Darest thou not make thy Father Judge of what
May wrong thy Friend?—

Am.
I dare: I've told my Fears:
If they're unjust, condemn; if not, forgive them.

Arc.
The faithful Boy! Ægon, I must embrace him!
Believe me, Youth, thy dearest Father's Arms
Ne'er held thee to his Heart with fonder Joy.
Excuse him, Friend—

Æg.
What you applaud, my Lord,
Needs not Excuse—

Arc.
—O Ægon! Friend indeed!
How shall I thank thy Care for such a Son.—
[Apart.
Thy Fear, Amyntas, to unfold thy Friend,
Commends thy Truth, and merits his Esteem.
However, to preserve thy Faith unblemish'd,
I give thee, with my Hand, my Word, whate'er
Thy Candour shall inform me of his Love,
My Boy shall never think a Wrong to him,
Nor find, from me, Occasion to reproach thee.

Am.
This, Sir, unties my Tongue: my inmost Thoughts,
Like a fair Volume open to your reading.

Arc.
Thou saidst he never told thee, that he lov'd?

Am.
Never—

Arc.
Yet thou believest his Grief is Love?

Am.
Alas, my Lord, a Youth so happy in
His Sire, so fam'd for Virtue, Birth, and Feature,
What strange Misfortune can disturb, but Love?

Arc.
Speak without Fear! Love is a venial Frailty.

Am.
'Tis true, when kindled by an Object worthy;
But Nature calls not Wisdom to her Council,
And sometimes chuses with a Youthful Eye.

Æg.
Be brief, and name the Nymph, that has engag'd him.

Am.
Let me now wrong him, Sir; I may mistake
Her Name, which yet I have declin'd to know.

Æg.
What were thy Reasons to avoid that Secret?

Am.
Because I fear'd, if known, my Duty might
Compell me, at the risque of his Esteem,
To inform a tender Father of his Weakness.

Arc.
Thou then hast Cause to think his Passion blameful?

Am.
What shall I say? For you, my Lord, are twice
My Sire, a Father to my Sire, and me!
Nay more, you honour him with Friendship!
I too have a Friend, and would deserve him!
O whom shall I oblige! whom dare t'offend?

Arc.
Neither, Amyntas; both shall be oblig'd.

Am.
Pardon my Doubts; but since your Word supports me,
Take my Suspicions, as my Eye have caught them.

Arc.
Give me the Nymph, whom thou suspect'st he loves.

Am.
Since I must speak—Ianthe, Sir, my Sister,
With undesigning Charms, I fear, has seiz'd
His youthful Heart; yet shuns the glorious Prize.

Arc.
'Tis well, Amyntas—I am still in Temper:
And since my Word has wrought thee to this Trust,
Darest thou yet make me farther Creditor,
And, by a more implicit Faith, oblige me?

Am.
A Confidence in you, is scarce a Merit;
Favours when ask'd, by Virtue, are conferr'd.

Arc.
Thus then, Amyntas—when thou find'st my Son,
In friendly Converse, would disclose his Love;
Incline to hear him, and condole his Sorrows:
But when he names Ianthe, as their Cause,
Turn to Amazement, and reprove his Weakness!
Dislike, object, discourage, blast his Hope!
Urge my Displeasure, and Ianthe's Scorn!
Recount Examples of clandestine Love,
Whose joyless Hours have groan'd in live-long Woe.
Set all the Terrors of Distress before him,
And leave the Guidance of his Fate to me.

Am.
My Lord, you have bound me to a mournful Task:
But since I know your Nature just, and gentle,
I will believe you act like Heav'nly Power,
That strews our way to Happiness, with Thorns:
Some woundrous Secret, sure, unripe for Birth,
Tho' for a Season wrapt in low'ring Clouds,
Must break at last, and spread a golden Day.

Arc.
Time suits not now, to give thee more, Amyntas:
Let it suffice that Iphis is my Hope.
Mean-while, we leave thee to thy Charge in hand.
Be faithful to thy Trust, and serve thy Friend.

[Ex. Arc. and Ægon.
Am.

[Am. retires.
Enter Iphis.
Iph.
Why, why, fond Wretch, didst thou avow thy Flame?
Was not her Friendship more than Love could merit?
To every Wish, that Innocence could form,
Alternate Kindness, flowing from the Heart,
Fill'd up the Measure of our social Hours.
When to some distant Hill the Sports have call'd
The smiling Fair, unknowing of her Charms,
Thought it no Boom, to trust thee with their Treasures.
But now, O fatal Avarice of Love!
To what Reverse of Fortune art thou fallen!
Now, at thy Sight, thy cold Companion flies;
Or heedless passing, with a downcast Eye,
Contracts her Beauty from thy pining Sense,
Offended at their Power to wound, or cure.
O Iphis! now farewel thy Joys! farewel thy Peace!
Here, to the Musick of this gurgling Brook,
Join thy faint Voice, and tell the Woods thy Woe.
The flitting Winds perhaps may catch the Sounds,
And waft them to Ianthe's Ear.

Amyntas returns.
Am.
I have attended, Iphis, to thy Sorrows,
And now, no longer can suppress the Friend:
Give me thy Griefs at large, and ease thy Heart.

Iph.
Amyntas! have I still a Friend, in thee?
A Friend, with whom I may repose my Grief?
A Friend, that will with Candour hear,
And chide me with Compassion?—

Am.
—Yes, a Friend,
That comes prepar'd, determin'd to assist thee.
Name, then, the Nymph, that thus has robb'd thee of
Thy self—

Iph.
—Need I repeat what every Grove
Has heard, what almost every Tree records?
Rip up my Heart, and read Ianthe there!

Am.
My Sister! is it possible! Ianthe!

Iph.
She, she, Amyntas, has resolv'd my Ruin.

Am.
Let me suppress my Wonder, till I hear
Thy Tale: unfold, from first to last, the Spring,
The Progress, and the Issue of thy Hopes.

Iph.
Hear, and lament my Fate—I will not dwell,
Amyntas, with a Lover's Fondness, on
Ianthe's Charms, tho' on that one Theme
O I could talk whole Midnight Moons to waining.

Am.
Proceed: my Patience shall indulge thy Fondness.

Iph.
Ere yet I was susceptible of Love,
Or that her Charms unblown could fear the Lover,
A sympathetick Friendship join'd our Hearts,
Our Innocence inseparable pass'd our Days:
Nature, at length, with soft Maturity
Spread o'er my youthful Cheek the Manly Down:
Then, with unusual Pulses beat my Heart;
New Wishes found new Lustre in her Charms,
And, on my gazing, Sighs uncall'd would rise:
And yet, alas! so innocent my Thoughts,
I knew not, then, 'twas Love; nor till this Hour
Perhaps had known, but that a fatal Proof
(Tho' at the Time transporting) since confirm'd it.

Am.
Transporting! Ha! let me conceive thee, Iphis.

Iph.
Mistake me not; the Proof, tho' sweet, was harmless.

Am.
Forgive my Fear, I ought t'have thought it so.
Pursue thy Tale—

Iph.
—It happen'd, on a Day,
Pastora, fair Ianthe, and myself
Their Guide, returning wearied from the Chace,
Accepted, from a neighbouring Swain, Refreshment.
There as within the Honey-suckle Bower
We lay, whose waving Sweets enrich'd the Air;
A careful Bee, providing for the Hive
With busy Toil, from Flower to Flower, flew round us.
Pastora fearful of his Flight, with Blows
Mis-spent in Air, disturb'd his Diligence:
The Insect thus provok'd, with sudden Rage,
Darts on her Cheek his sharp invenom'd Sting.
The shrieking Maid, in Tears, deplor'd her Pain;
When kind Ianthe to her Succour flew,
And to the fiery Wound her balmy Lips
Apply'd; Then solemn to the Ear, she sung
Verses of holy and mysterious Meaning,
(A Charm bequeath'd her by the Sage Eudocia:)
On this the angry Tumour was dispell'd,
And to her Cheek the usual Rose return'd.

Am.
Happy Relief! have magick Notes such Power?
But O methinks I feel Pastora's Pain!

Iph.
Who would not bear not the Pain, to taste the Cure?
No, Amyntas, I rather must believe
The Charm receiv'd its Virtue from Ianthe:
For, sure! such Lips whate'er they touch must heal.

Am.
But, Iphis, how couldst thou perceive, from thence,
That Love had seized thy Heart?—

Iph.
—Attend the Sequel.
While I stood Witness of the charming Cure,
I saw such humid Fervour on her Lips,
Such willing Fondness sparkling from her Eyes,
Heard the sweet chirping Sound of every Kiss,
With such Delight—I wish'd the Wound my own.
At length so painful grew my tender Longing,
That, on a sudden bursting from the Bower,
In seeming Anguish covering with my Hand
My Face, I writh'd like one in mortal Pain:
The Cause inquir'd, I to Ianthe cry'd,
Another Bee had pierc'd my raging Lip.
She, unsuspicious of her Skill betray'd,
Her Innocence unblushing at her Art,
With sweet Convulsion drew my healthy Lip
To hers, unknowing of the Joys I stole;
No Malady she found, but what she gave,
A thousand Stings she shot into my Heart,
Which since confess'd, her Scorn denies to cure.

Am.
What on the Instant follow'd this Proceeding?

Iph.
As to our Home we onward took the way,
I fondly smiling own'd the happy Fraud,
Exulted on the Joy her Lips had given,
And, to excuse the Fact, impeach'd my Love!
At this, a red Confusion flush'd her Cheek;
Quick Anger darted from her flashing Eyes,
Till mute Concern distill'd a falling Tear.
Nor Prayers, Excuse, or Penitence prevail'd;
For, from that Moment, never would she speak,
Regard, converse, or, unavoided, bear
My Presence more.

Am.
—Nor can I blame her, Iphis;
With Grief, I own thy Story has deceiv'd me;
Were these thy tender Motives for my Pity?
Fond Youth, thy wanton Fraud was too licentious;
What less, than Scorn, could Maiden Shame return,
For injur'd Truth, and Innocence betray'd?

Iph.
O! Amyntas! then I am lost indeed!
Reprov'd by thee too, I myself condemn;
To merit her Disdain is Misery
Compleat—

Am.
—Nay then I still must pity thee!
Thy Resignation yet recalls the Friend,
And sooths the jealous Brother to forgive.

Iph.
O then confirm it by the dearest Proof,
And soften, to my Sighs, Ianthe's Heart.

Am.
No, Iphis; to confirm the Friend sincere,
Against thy Love I must support thy Virtue:
Thy Duty, Honour, Interest, and thy Fame,
With Force invincible, oppose thy Hopes:
Therefore, in time, fond Youth, restrain thy Passion.
Fix on some Beauty equal to thy Birth,
Preserve the Fountain of thy Blood unstain'd,
And leave Ianthe to inferior Hearts.

Iph.
Thy Words, Amyntas, like a Ponyard pierce me.

Am.
Thy present Pain secures thy future Peace.

Iph.
Can I have Peace, without Ianthe's Love?

Am.
Canst thou be happy with diminish'd Honour?

Iph.
Where Virtue is, the proudest Birth may bow.

Am.
Take heed, rash Youth! thou hast an high-born Sister:
How, in her Heart, wou'dst thou approve these Precepts?

Iph.
As thou wou'dst—if her Lover would applaud 'em.

Am.
As I wou'd! I mistake thee sure; explain.

Iph.
Suppose Amyntas for Pastora burn'd,
Suppose Pastora shou'd approve his Flame;
Then ask of Love, what wou'd Amyntas do?

Am.
Admit me frail—were that a Plea for Iphis?
He probes me to the Heart! sure he suspects not.
[Aside ...]
I must avoid the Subject, and retire. [... Aside.]

Iphis, howe'er my Friendship is inclin'd,
Compassion must not cancel Obligations:
Thy noble Father is our House's Patron:
To serve thy Love, were to invade his Honour!
Therefore be early warn'd, and rein thy Passion,
Return to Duty, and abjure Ianthe.
[Ex. Amyn.

Iph.
Persuade the Seas in Tempests to be calm!
Forbid the vernal Flowers to blow—their Sweets
To smell, or Seasons to regard the Sun!
Such is the Power of Iphis, to recede:
To change, is the Relief of luke-warm Lovers;
None can be happy, but who dare be wretched!
Fortune may starve, but never change my Love.

Amyntas returns.
Am.
Iphis, dispel thy Fears; Amyntas is
With Joy return'd, to gratulate thy Love,

Iph.
What means my Friend?

Enter Arcas.
Am.
—Lord Arcas will inform thee.

Iph.
My Father! Prostrate let me thus revere him.

Arc.
Arise, my Son! recover so thy Heart,
And prosecute thy Love: Thy Friend Amyntas,
By my Appointment, tempting thy Desires,
With such fair Praises has adorn'd thy Truth,
That my fond Nature earns to indulge thy Vows,
And, far as my paternal Sanction may,
With Honour, in Ianthe to compleat them.

Iph.
O kind Amyntas! Didst thou thus deceive me?

Arc.
I know the Treasures of her Mind, as thou
Her Charms; I know that Happiness, in Love,
Is not the Gift of Fortune, or of Birth.
I know that Honour is adorn'd by Virtue,
That Title is, without it, but a Name:
Therefore when Virtue prompts thy Heart to love—
For worldly Views, I give them, to the Air!

Iph.
How shall my future Life deserve this Goodness!
O Amyntas! I breathe again! and my
Discordant Heart resumes its Harmony!

Arc.
To give thee, Iphis, yet a farther Hope;
Ægon, her Father, knowing my Consent
Had ratify'd thy Love, with Joy receiv'd
The News, and warn'd Ianthe of her Conquest.
This Moment he prepares her for thy Wishes,
And brings her, blushing, to receive thy Vows.

Iph.
O sweet Relief! O unexpected Joy!

Arc.
Now good Amyntas have I kept my Word?

Am.
And doubly have rewarded my Obedience.

Iph.
And yet, alas, I fear. Now I may speak,
My Heart retreats, and trembles to be heard.

Arc.
Who fears t'offend, takes the first Step to please.

Iph.
But I, in such high Nature have offended—

Arc.
Where the Offence is Love, the coldest Maid
Seldom exacts Repentance—see she comes!
By her fond Father's Hand conducted—cheer thy Heart.

Enter Ægon leading Ianthe, who stands some time silent: Iphis kneeling at a Distance.
Æg.

Look there, my Darling—

Arc.
Fair Ianthe!
Turn thy kinder Eye—

Am.
O lend thy pitying Ear.

Ian.
Methinks I stand, like a poor hunted Deer
Within the Toil, by lifted Spears surrounded.
What is my Crime? Why am I here the Point
Of Publick Gaze, the Mark of chiding Eyes,
And general Reproach? Whom have I wrong'd?
Not Iphis sure! Unless my Friendship was injurious:
That once betray'd, could I do less than end it?
His Crime (Oh that my Memory could lose it!)
I sooner shall forget, than dare to pardon.

Iph.
Ianthe, oh my Heart pines after thee!
By all our playful Hours of Infant Life,
Which almost Arm in Arm, our Innocence
Delighted, and delighting has enjoy'd,
By these my conscious Pangs of Friendship lost—

Ian.
Thou hast defil'd it, Iphis, by Deceit!

Iph.
O yet restore, restore me to myself;
Forgive, and call me to thy Friendship Home!

Ian.
'Twas once my Pride! remember'd, 'tis my Shame.

Iph.
Alas, our Friendship was the Bloom of Love!
And Love the Promise of the Tree perform'd.
Is then the Fruit less pleasing than the Flower?

Ian.
Yes—the white Hawthorn in its Bloom is fragrant,
Its Fruit neglected, or the Food of Herds.

Iph.
O yet forgive! and never shall ungovern'd Love,
In conscious Word, or Look, offend thy Virtue.

Ian.
That thou hast wrong'd me Once, is my Misfortune;
If I am Twice deceiv'd, the Guilt be mine.

[Going.
Æg.
Ianthe, stay—

[She returns.
Iph.
Are These, Amyntas, my
Deluded Hopes?

[He rises, and leans on Amyn.
Æg.
No, I compel thee not.
Thy Heart shall ever, in thy Love, be free.

Ian.
Thus let my bending Knee be thankful!
Say but my Heart is free! I ask no more.

Æg.
Free as thy Bosom-Thought—

Arc.
—Yes, fair Ianthe,
Howe'er my partial Fondness may regard
A Son distrest, I still esteem thy Virtue;
Nor, with thy Father's Power, would thwart thy Wishes.
If thou art injur'd, right thy Maiden Wrongs;
If Love wants Motives to compose thy Breast,
The Voice of Power, or Interest, shall be neuter,
And leave thee free to Pardon, or Resent.

Ian.
If I were capable of hating Iphis,
This Goodness might remove it! No, my Lord,
I am not yet so blinded by Resentment,
But that I can allow his Virtues still
Diffusive to the World: Why then am I
Distinguish'd by Offence? With Grief I speak it,
Why are those Virtues only blameable
To me?—

Iph.
—Couldst thou behold thy Eyes, Ianthe,
Thy chiding Wonder of my Crime might cease.

Ian.
Admit thy ill-plac'd Flattery were true,
Is that Excuse for Fraud, and injur'd Kindness?
For violated Faith, and sensual Insult?

Iph.
How can the Guilt of Iphis taint Ianthe?

Ian.
O weak Reply! 'tis not enough, that Maids
Are innocent; they must be Thought so too.
And she, whose violated Modesty
Forgives, resents with a dissembled Anger.

Iph.
Lyons and Tygers might be sooner tam'd,
Than One obdurate Maid! Some pitying God
Look down, dissolve her frozen Heart, relieve
A Lover's Pain, and give her Eyes Compassion.

[Iphis turning from Ianthe, dejected, leans against a Tree, while Amyntas seems to talk to her apart.
Arc.
I fear me, Ægon, we have gone too far!
Ianthe seems to triumph in the Power
We gave, and strains it to a Cruelty.

Æg.
Give Nature Time! This Tyde of Power may turn;
Virgins grow seldom Old, in Cruelty.
Their Tyranny is but a poor, short-liv'd Flower;
With Pride it blooms, but sooner fades, than Beauty.

Am.
'Tis true, Ianthe, thou art free to chuse;
But something seems to that Indulgence due:
Thou seest the generous Arcas, and thy Father,
Though they impose not, recommend at least,
And, in their Silence, chide thy Coldness.

Ian.
Leave me to pause—Virtue! to thee, thus far,
Implicit have I paid Obedience! Now
Support, and cover with thy Wings my Weakness.

[Aside.
Am.
If ever, Iphis, now resume thy Cause.

Iph.
Ianthe! though my Fault confess'd despairs
Of Pardon, let me hope my Punishment
At least extends not to thy rooted Hate!
Divide, if possible, the Lover from
The Friend; and to remember, that I, once,
Was unoffending Iphis—wear this Trifle.

[Offering his Crook.
Ian.
Accepted Presents, Iphis, are for Hearts
In Amity, and therefore suit not me:
Yet since, I find, the general Wish attends thee;
In Proof, at least, that I suspend Resentment,
One Gift I will receive, and only One.

Iph.
O! quick pronounce thy Pleasure, and relieve me!

Ian.
Relieve thy self; on thee Relief depends!
Now, if thou canst, divine thy Life to come,
For thus our Goddess has resolv'd thy Doom!

Arc.
Ægon! Amyntas, hear—

Iph.
—My Soul attends thee!

Ian.
Know then, impatient to redress my Wrongs, this Morn
Before the Holy Shrine of chast Diana
I prostrate threw me, and implored her Aid:
The Goddess smil'd propitious to my Prayers,
And to resent the Stains of Iphis' Love,
These Words her sacred Oracle pronounc'd.
“That which He cannot have, shall Iphis give;
“That, which Thou canst not give, or He desire:
“That which He must not have, must Thou receive,
“That! that's the Right thy present Wrongs require.

Iph.
What jangling Paradoxes rack my Brain!

Arc.
[Apart.]
Can Love thro' Riddles only reach their Hearts?

Æg.
[Apart.]
When I was young, I always found it so.

Ian.
“'Till this, from Iphis She receive,
“Ianthe never shall forgive.
“When Iphis plain this Riddle reads,
“Then to his Wish, his Love succeeds.
“Now turn thee, Iphis, to thy Art.
“Mean-while, like Friends compell'd, we part.

Iph.
Can Iphis from Ianthe fly?

Ian.
Will Iphis, what she asks, deny?

[All but Ianthe go off.
Ian.
'Tis done! his tender Passion is reveal'd.
What I endure, lies here, a Load conceal'd.
Call not for Pity, Iphis, of thy Pain;
Unless thy Thoughts conceiv'd what mine sustain.
My Love, by Pride suppress'd, was harder born
Than all thy Anguish, from Ianthe's Scorn.
Unequal, Nature, are thy Laws ordain'd!
By thee, we're taught to love, by thee, restrain'd:
While lordly Man no sooner feels thy Fire,
Than he, unblam'd, avows the soft Desire,
Melts with complaining Sighs our Hearts away,
Till what, with Pain, we hide, our conscious Eyes betray.