 | The Triumphs of Love and Honour |  |
SCENE III.
Philocles.Let not the Majesty of Cyprus droop
While you have Room for Hope: your faithful Slaves,
Obsequious to your Will, are now employ'd
In searching out the Fair; nor has my Care,
As soon perhaps th' Event may witness for me,
Been wanted to restore that Peace of Mind,
Which you enjoy'd while your Urania smil'd
Beneath your Eye, and charm'd the Heart of Age.
Aristarchus.
O! Philocles, perhaps the love-sick Maid,
The darling of my Soul, now frantic roves
Over the desart Heath, her Tresses loose,
36
E'en now perhaps she loads my Age with Curses,
Or is perhaps no more: support me, Prince.
[He leans on Philocles.
| The Triumphs of Love and Honour | |