University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

Silvio and Linco.
Linco.
Oh, Silvio!
Hadst thou e'er tasted the extatick Pleasure,
Truly to love, and be belov'd again,
Thy adamantine Heart would quickly soften;
Soon would'st thou cherish the fond Flame within thee;
Soon would'st thou think thy present Life insipid,
And murmur to have liv'd so long without it.
No more the Pleasures of the Woods approve:
Leave, leave all other Sports for godlike Love.

Silv.
Talk not to me of thy fantastic Flames:
I tell thee, Linco, that I value more
One brindled Boar, by my Melampo caught,
Than Thousands of those Nymphs thou so extol'st.
Let those, who have a nicer Taste than I,
The Beauties of the Plains with Pride enjoy;
I cannot relish such Society.

Linc.
Silvio, thy Soul is out of Tune—
But have a Care; the Hour will one Day come,
When thou must own Love's soft Supremacy.
Sooner or later, once he triumphs o'er us,
Asserts his Right, and claims our due Allegiance.
Believe me, Silvio,
(For I, by sad Experience, know the Truth on't.)
No greater Pain can Mortal undergo,
Than in his Evening, his Decline of Life,
To feel the sharp, the piercing Stings of Love:
For then, no Cure can for the Wound be found,
And every Application when renew'd
Does but enflame, and make it rage the more.
When e'er in Youth he strikes his Arrows deep,
He quickly cures himself the Wounds he makes;
Eases his Patient's Pains with future Hopes,
And with a Smile atones for former Frowns.
But if his Arrows once transfix the Old,
(Who cannot attribute their Nymphs Disdain
To any Thing but the Decay of Nature)
Then are the Wounds he makes incurable,
And all their Pains too sharp for human Suff'rance.
Prithee, dear Silvio, do not hasten on thee
The Curse of Time, before the Time appointed;
For, Oh! to learn to love, when thou art old,
Will sting thy drooping Soul with double Torture.
How wilt thou then upon thyself reflect,
That in thy Youth thou did Love's Charms neglect!
No more the Pleasures of the Woods approve:
Leave, leave all other Sports for godlike Love.

Silv.
As if there were no Pleasures to pursue,
But those which you fantastick Lovers know.

Linc.
Tell me if in the jovial Month of May,
When the gay Earth is deck'd in all her Glory,
Should'st thou, instead of verdant flow'ry Meads,
Instead of shady Groves and purling Streams,
Behold the Pine, the Ash, the Oak, all leafless;
The Ground without a Flow'r, the Floods congeal'd,
Would'st thou not say, that Nature was inverted,
The Universe was sick, and just expiring?
Now, Silvio, turn thy Eyes upon thyself,
And thou wilt see a Prodigy in Nature,
As horrible as this: To different Ages,
Heaven has bestowed Diversity of Passions:
And as fond Love but ill becomes the Old,
So he that's Young, and disregards the Fair,
Thwarts the Design of Nature and of Heav'n,
Silvio, look round:—
Examine all the Works of the Creation.
And thou wilt find 'em all th' Effects of Love.
Dost thou not see yon Messenger of Day?
Ev'n she herself does Cupid's Pow'r obey.
This Moment sure she left her God of War,
She looks so gay and so divinely fair.
Love fires the Beasts that haunt the desart Woods,
And bulky Whales that lord it in the Floods.
The Nightingale, that tunes his warbling Throat,
And strikes thine Ear with such a pleasing Note,
That wantonly from Beach to Beach does move,
Could he but speak, would say, I burn with Love.
Love sparkles in his little wanton Eyes,
And his soft Warblings Want of Speech supplies.
His pretty tender Mate knows what they mean,
And listens to them with a pleasing Pain.
The lusty Bull ranges the Pastures round,
And bellows as he runs, and spurns the Ground;
But then those awful Sounds, those Gestures prove
Not the Result of Anger, but of Love.
The Lion roars within the desart Wood,
More for his absent Mate than Want of Food.
In short, there's no created Thing, but thee,
That is from Love's Almighty Power free.
And shall my Silvio no Devotion pay
To him, that bears such universal Sway?
No more the Pleasures of the Woods approve:
Leave, leave all other Sports for god-like Love.

Silv.
Were then my tender blooming Years, dost think,
Entrusted to thy Care for nothing else,
But to attend thy soft romantic Lectures,
Thy love-sick Stories, which my Soul abhors?
Pray, Linco, recollect thyself, and know
The Inequality there is betwixt us.

Linc.
I am a Man, proud Youth, and thou'rt no more.
And glory in my mortal Composition.
If thy ambitious Soul disdains the Title,
And takes her Flight beyond a human Pitch,
Take Care thou doesn't sink beneath ev'n Manhood,
In aiming to be something more than Man.

Silv.
My great, my valiant Grandsire Hercules,
Who quell'd the savage Monsters of the Woods,
Whose Blood runs briskly thro' my youthful Veins,
Had never been recorded in Fame's Annals,
Had he not first subdu'd that Monster, Love.

Linc.
Pride and Ambition, Silvio, blind thy Reason.
Where hadst thou been? How, pray, hadst thou been born,
Had thy Alcides never felt Love's Pow'r?
Nay all the glorious Actions he perform'd,
The many Conquests that he gain'd in Battle,
Were all the Effects of this Almighty Passion.
Hast thou not heard, how the Fair Omphale
Made him confess the Triumph of her Eyes,
And bound him Captive by her magic Charms?
How he resign'd his rugged Lion's Skin,
To deck himself in all her female Glory?
How he sat down to learn her little Arts,
And turn'd his knotty Club into a Distaff?
Thus would he shift the Scene, and when fatigu'd
With the hard Toil, and Hazard of the Day,
In her soft Arms repose himself at Night;
There make amends for all his Labours past;
Surfeit on Joy till ev'n Desire grew sick;
And then his former Toils again repeat.
If then thy haughty Soul would imitate
The glorious warlike Deeds thy Grandsire wrought;
Tho' still thou dost in Woods delight to rove,
Yet do not banish quite the Thoughts of Love:
Sometimes to Amaryllis's Charms resign;
Her Blood's as noble, and as rich as thine.
That thou dost shun Dorinda's proffer'd Love,
I do not only pardon but approve.
Thine Honour, which thou dost so highly prize,
Will not permit th' unlawful Flame to rise;
Can ne'er consent thou basely should'st abuse
So great, so worthy, so divine a Spouse.

Silv.
That she's my Spouse, as yet thou can'st not say.

Linc.
Were there not solemn Vows between you past?
Take Care, proud Youth, you don't the Gods distast.

Silv.
The Gift of Freedom, is the Gift of Jove;
He ne'er regards compulsive Vows of Love.

Linc.
Nay, but I tell thee, Silvio, Jove looks down,
And makes this Match a Bus'ness of his own;
Has promis'd to attend thy Nuptial Rites,
And crown 'em with unheard-of, new Delights.

Silv.
Canst think that Jove would break his sweet Repose,
To mind such trivial Things, as Lover's Vows?
I tell thee, Amaryllis I despise,
Nor am I mov'd with fair Dorinda's Eyes:
No Female Planet rul'd when I was born:
The Queen of Love with all her Charms I scorn.
Diana is the Goddess I approve,
And I'm resolv'd thro' all her Woods to rove,

Linc.
Hard-hearted Youth! I scarcely can believe
Thou dost from Gods, or Men, thy Race derive.
Or, if thy Father was a mortal Man,
Thro' all his Veins Alecto's Poisons ran.
When in his Arms thy Mother he carest,
Tysiphone alone his Heart possest.