University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

Enter Mercury to Paris, Oenone and Florinda.
Mer.
From High Olympus, and the Realms above,
Behold, I come from the Great Thund'rer JOVE.
Shepherd, Arise All rise, and pay their Homage to Mercury.
, and leave thy Rural Care,
To listen to the Message which I bear.
Regard no more thy Crook, and Tuneful Reed,
Forbear henceforth thy fleecy Flocks to feed;
For Thou to Greater Honours art decreed.

Paris.
Say, Hermes, say, why dost thou seek this Plain,
To greet so kindly such a Lowly Swain?—
What does the Mighty Thunderer Ordain?

Mer.
This Radiant Fruit, which here I grasp, behold,
Brighter by far than any Burnish'd Gold.
For This Three Beauteous Goddesses contend;
For This alone they now to Earth descend.
By JOVE commission'd, take the Golden Prize,
And give It Her who has the Fairest Eyes.

(Delivers him the Golden Ball.)
Paris.
O rising Joy! O ravishing Delight!
What Mortal can support the Glorious Sight!
Alas! my Eyes too weak: No Human Brain
Is able so much Rapture to sustain.
I faint, I fall, O Hermes, take me hence,
E're Extacy invades my Aching Sense.
O! Help me, quickly help me, or I dye,
And fall a Victim to Excess of Joy.

Mer.
Shepherd, be bold, with Freedom view each Face;
Discover every Charm, and every Grace:
Altho' Ten Thousand Darts should fly around,
Thou shalt survey them all without a Wound.
Happy art Thou above all Human Race;
The GODS Themselves with Thee would change Their Place.

Paris.
Happy I am, altho' of Human Race:
Nor with the GODS would I exchange my Place.

Mer.
Behold, Heav'ns Beauteous Goddesses appear,
And sail with Splendor thro' the Ambient Air.

(Mercury goes out, and Paris turns to Oenone.)
Paris.
My Dear Oenone, for a While be gone,
I'll wait on Thee before the Setting Sun:
Then on Thy Bosom I'll recline my Head,
And tell Thee All that Heaven's Bright Queens have said.

Oeno.
'Till the Sun sets, my Dearest Swain, farewel.
(She retires to a Corner of the Stage.)
(Aside.)
I like not this: Yet why I cannot tell:
My Boding Heart presages Something Ill.
Something, I fear, will interrupt Our Love,
Some New-born Hopes may teach His Heart to rove,
And I should Dye should He Inconstant prove.

(She goes out.)
Paris.
alone.
My Pulse beats high, and all my Blood's on Fire:
Methinks, I hear the Soft, Angelick Choir
In most Harmonious, most Extatick Lays,
Extol Their Vertues, and Their Beauties praise.

[She retires to one Corner of the Stage. The Goddesses are seen at a Distance descending in a Golden Chariot drawn by Peacocks.]