University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Ulamar, Beaufort.
Beauf.
My Ulamar!

Ulam.
My Friend.
Ha! thou look'st sad, whenever thou art griev'd,
Alas I find 'tis I my self that suffer;
What Thought disturbs my Friend?

Beauf.
Thy sympathizing Grief disturbs thy Friend,
But when I think of losing thee, oh then!

Ulam.
That loss would quickly be repair'd, for thou,
Who mad'st me what I am can'st make another;
And form him fit for Friendship and for thee.

Beauf.
'Twas Heav'n alone could make thee what thou art,
A Jewel of inestimable Price,
I added to thy Lustre, not thy Worth,
And the small Pains I took to make thee shine,
Makes thee more pretious in my joyful Eyes;
But when I think of losing thee.

Ulam.
I will not think of losing thee,
I cannot bear the Thought.

Beauf.
Whose must Irene be?

Ulam.
Heav'n only knows,
But will alas in one half Hour declare.

Beauf.
Whose is her Heart, for thou hast oft enquir'd.

Ulam.
But never yet could find.

Beauf.
To me she still has too respectful been,
And much too cold and too indifferent.

Ulam.
And too uneasie and reserv'd to me.

Beauf.
Perhaps some happier Man among the Crow'd,
Of her Adorers while we sigh in vain,
Possesses all her Soul; 'tis hard to think,
That she whose Beauty captivates all Hearts,
Should be like Virtue, with her self content,
And never know desire.
Try her once more at this important Juncture,
For I have search'd into her Heart in vain;
'Tis true, my Soul is of her Beauty fond,
As ev'n of Glory, with whose noble fire,
It twenty Years succesfully has burn'd;
Yet I who see my fortieth Sun renew'd;
Will entertain no Passion that revolts,
From Reasons sovereign and eternal Law.
'Tis true I would, for who would not be blest?
But will not by her Misery be blest.

Ulam.
Nor I by Heav'n!

Beauf.
But now let me conjure thee Ulamar,
Ev'n by that charming Hope that makes us languish,
By holy Friendship's venerable Bond
That now confines us in this strict Embrace,
By the Remembrance of those happy Hours
Which we have past exciting one another
To elevated Thoughts and glorious Deeds;
For whomsoever Fate reserves Irene,
Oh let him not be blest by halves,
Let him not lose his Friend?
May never any Coldness come till Death,
Between our Loves and us!

Ulam.
Not Death himself
Unless he quite extinguishes my Mind,
Shall make me cold to Beaufort.

Beauf.
But our Fate comes, and I must disappear.