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Tell him--_Philander_, Prince; I talk in vain To you, you do not mark me.
Philander:
Indeed I do.
Erota:
But thou dost look so pale, As thou wilt spoil the story in relating.
Philander:
Not, if I can but live to tell it.
Erota:
It may be you have not the heart.
Philander:
I have a will I am sure how e'r my heart May play the Coward, but if you please, I'll try.
Erota:
If a kiss will strengthen thee, I give you leave To challenge it, nay, I will give it you.
Philander:
O that a man should taste such heavenly bliss, And be enjoyn'd to beg it for another!
Erota:
Alas, it is a misery I grieve To put you to, and I will suffer rather In his tyranny, than thou in mine.
Philander:
Nay Madam, since I cannot have your love, I will endeavour to deserve your pity; For I had rather have within the grave Your love, than you should want it upon earth.
But how can I hope, with a feeble tongue To instruct him in the rudiments of love, When your most powerful Beauty cannot work it?
Erota:
Do what thou wilt (_Philander_) the request Is so unreasonable, that I quit thee of it.
I desire now no more but the true patience, And fort.i.tude of Lovers, with those helps Of sighs and tears, which I think is all the Physick--
Philander:
O if he did but hear you 'twere enough; And I will 'wake him from his Apoplexie.
_Antinous._
Antinous:
My Lord?
275]
Philander:
Nay, 'pray, No courtesie to me, you are my Lord, (Indeed you are) for you command her heart That commands mine; nor can you want to know it.
For look you, she that told it you in words, Explains it now more pa.s.sionately in tears; Either thou hast no heart, or a marble one, If those drops cannot melt it; prithee look up And see how sorrow sits within her eyes, And love the grief she goes with (if not her) Of which thou art the Parent; and never yet Was there (by Nature) that thing made so stony But it would love what ever it begot.
Antinous:
He that begot me did beget these cares Which are good issues, though happily by him Esteemed Monsters: Nay, the ill-judging World Is likely enough to give them those Characters.
Philander:
What's this to love, and to the Lady? he's old, Wrathful, perverse, self-will'd, and full of anger, Which are his faults; but let them not be thine; He thrusts you from his love, she pulls thee on; He doubts your Vertues, she doth double them; O either use thine own eyes, or take mine, And with them my heart, then thou wilt love her, Nay, dote upon her more than on thy duty, And men will praise thee equally for it, Neglecting her, condemn thee as a man Unworthy such a fortune: O _Antinous_, 'Tis not the friends.h.i.+p that I bear to thee, But her command, that makes me utter this; And when I have prevail'd, let her but say, _Philander_, you must dye or this is nothing, It shall be done together with a breath, With the same willingness I live to serve her.
Erota:
No more, _Philander_.
Philander:
All I have done, is little yet to purpose, But ere I leave him I will perceive him blush; And make him feel the pa.s.sions that I do, And every true Lover will a.s.sist me in't, And lend me their sad sighs to blow it home, 276] For _Cupid_ wants a Dart to wound this bosome.
Erota:
No more, no more, _Philander_, I can endure no more, Pray let him go; go good _Antinous_, make peace With your own mind, no matter though I perish.
[Ex.
Actus Quartus
Scena Prima
[Enter _Hyparcha_, and _Mochingo_]
Hyparcha:
I Cannot help it.
Mochingo:
