University of Virginia Library

SCENE X.

Enter Oenone Weeping, and Florinda following Her.
Flor.
Think, think no more on the False, Perjur'd Swain;
He's fled to Troy, and all thy Sighs are vain.
No more lament thy Cruel, Wayward Fate;
Strephon's more Constant, tho' He's not so Great:
Strephon with Pride would the Youth's Place supply,
Adore thy Charms, and for Oenone dye.

Oeno.
O! Name him not: I hate th'Ambitious Swain;
Long has he su'd indeed, but su'd in Vain.
No;—Since my Once-lov'd Paris proves Untrue,
I'll bid the Groves, and all the Swains Adieu.
How oft has He invok'd the Powers Divine
To witness He'd be Constant, ever Mine!
What Cruel Stars his Kindness to prevent,
Curs'd him with Pow'r, and ruin'd my Content!
Whisper'd Renown and Glory in his Ear,
And cry'd, Let Helen be thy Only Care!
Forsake the Plains, thy Shepherd's Weeds lay down;
Change Crooks for Scepters, Garlands for a Crown!
Oh! Fatal Pomp, that could so soon divide
What Love, and All our Vows so firmly ty'd!
Farewel, Florinda, I must now be gone.

Flor.
Whither, Oh! whither would Oenone run?

Oeno.
Boldly I'll venture on some Land Unknown,
It cannot use me worse than this has done.
In Distant Climes I will my Fate deplore
On a Lone Isle, or some forsaken Shoar;
Where I may listen to False Man no more.

Flor.
Couldst thou then go, and leave me here behind?
Oenone sure could ne're be so Unkind.
To part with Thee my Bleeding Heart would break;
I love the Groves, but for Oenone's sake.

Oeno.