 | Cleone |  |
12
SCENE IV.
Cleone, Glanville.Glanville.
I greet you, lady, with important news;
The Saracens are beaten—yet Sifroy,
Coldly neglectful of your blooming charms,
Pursues a remnant of the flying foe
To strong Avignon's walls, where shelter'd safe,
The hardy troops may bear a tedious siege.
Why then, Cleone, should you still resist
The soft entreaties of my warm desire?
Methinks the man but ill deserves your truth,
Who leaves the sweet Elysium of your arms
To tread the dangerous fields of horrid war.
Cleone.
And what, O Glanville, what dost thou deserve?
Thou, who with treachery repay'st the trust
Of sacred friendship? Thou, who but to quench
A loose desire, and gain a moment's pleasure,
Would'st banish truth and honour from thy breast?
Glanville.
Honour!—What's honour? A vain phantom rais'd
To fright the weak from tasting those delights,
Which Nature's voice, that surest law, enforces.
Be wise, and laugh at all its idle threats.
Besides, with me your fame would be secure,
Discretion guards my name from Censure's tongue.
Cleone.
And dost thou call hypocrisy, discretion?
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With thee, thou say'st, my fame would be secure;
Unsully'd by the world. It might. Yet know,
Tho' hid beneath the center of the earth,
Remov'd from Envy's eye, and Slander's tongue,
Nay from the view of Heaven itself conceal'd,
Still would I shun the very thought of guilt,
Nor wound my secret conscience with reproach.
Glanville.
Romantic all! Come, come, why is your form
So exquisite, so tempting for delight;
With eyes that languish, limbs that move with grace—
Why were these beauties given you, but to soothe
The strong, the sweet sensations they excite?
Why were you made so beauteous, yet so coy?
[Offers to embrace her, she puts him by with disdain.
Cleone.
Base hypocrite! why rather wer't thou suffer'd
Beneath fair Virtue's mien to hide a heart
So vile? why this, good Heaven! But dost thou think
Thy foul devices shall be still conceal'd?
Sifroy shall know thee; thy detested crime
At last shall be laid open to his view.
Glanville.
Is love a crime? O ask your feeling heart—
[Paulet bursts from the room.
| Cleone | |