 | The Distrest Mother
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SCENE III.
Pyrrhus and Phœnix.
Phœn.
Sir, do you send your Rival to the Princess?
Pyr.
I am told, that he has lov'd her long.
Phœn.
If so,
Have you not cause to fear the smother'd Flame
May kindle at her Sight, and blaze anew?
And she be wrought to listen to his Passion?
Pyr.
Ah, let them, Phœnix; let them love their Fill!
Let them go hence; let them depart together;
Together let them sail for Sparta: All my Ports
Are open to them both. From what Constraint,
What irksome Thoughts should I be then reliev'd!
Phœn.
But, Sir—
Pyr.
I shall another time, good Phœnix,
Unbosom to thee all my Thoughts.—For, see,
Andromache appears.
| The Distrest Mother
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