Chri. You mistake me. Dor. Remit my ignorance, and let me read When they presage a storm; and those bright eyes, Chri. You misconstrue The intention of my looks. I am not angry Dor. At what? by whom? Lives there a creature so extremely bad, Dares discompose your patience? speak: reveal Chri. I believe, That, in some trivial quarrel to redeem My fame, should scandal touch it, you would fight, A task to enjoin you which my fears possess me Dor. By truth, You wrong my faith and courage to suspect me Chri. Do not rage. When you shall hear it, you will then confess Dor. My loyalty will not Permit that strong rebellion in my breast To doubt the meanest falsehood in a word Her voice can utter, which should charm the world To a belief some cherubim has left Its room in heaven to carol to the earth Celestial anthems, and I now begin A form of oath so binding that no law Chri. Hear it, then; and do not, As you respect your oath or love, request My honour be my witness, which no action Chri. Enough; that vow Cannot but be material; receive it :- Dor. That's no command; what did Chri. I must no longer love you; Leave your affection to me. Dor. You're very pleasant, lady. Chrisea? you say, and command you, Chri. You'll find me very serious; nay, more; I love another; and I do enjoin you, Since 'tis a man you may o'er-rule, to assist me In my obtaining him, without whose love I'm resolute to perish! Dor. Sure I dream, Or some strange sudden death has changed this frame And should hear this, certain my violent rage Chri. Where's now The strength of soul you boasted? Does the noise Your settled resolution, and the voice When you shall hear the man whose love has stol'n Dor. Sure 'tis she who speaks: I do enjoy, yet, sound untainted sense: Each faculty does, with a peaceful harmony, retain She must no longer love me. Oh! that word Above distracted madness. Madam! tell me- With his own nails his grave, must live confin'd Chri. Sir, you cannot By most submissive and continued prayers, Upon your friend Vitelli. Dor. My friend Vitelli! Chri. Sir, I not use To jest my life away: Vitelli is The person to obtain whose precious love To implore your utmost diligence. Dor. Can I be So tame o' the sudden? has the feeble spirit The stale to my own ruin? O Chrisea! Who wert so good, that virtue would have sigh'd Though of the slightest consequence; oh, do not Chri. My will guides my determination, and you must In honour act your promise. Dor. Yes, I will, Since you can urge it, tho' but two Things precious to me, and one cruel word Chri. They are but vain : You may as easily think to kiss the stars [exit. Dor. She's gone! What vapour, which the flattering sun Attracts to heaven, as to create a star, And throw it a fading meteor to the earth, Its unmov'd head: love be my careful guide! The next scene is between Doria and Vitelli. "Vit. Friend, now we're alone, I safely may Speak my conjecture; I have read your looks, And, in their pensive characters, find secret Strange signs of sadness. Dor. I am sad, indeed, When my remembrance tells me I have only Verbal assurance of your friendship. Vit. Try me by any attempt, whose danger does surpass The common path of daring; be't to snatch A fiery bolt, when it from heaven comes wrapp'd In sheets of lightning, to afford true proof Of my affection, and with eager haste, To the achievement. Dor. These are but protests, Such as be got by ceremony, proceed Not from intensive zeal; yet I'll experience An 'twere a burden would oppress the earth, Heaven on my willing shoulders. In whose each eye sits fire, and on her cheek That I, in pity of her sufferings, come T'entreat you love her. Vit. Whom, my lord? Dor. You cannot appear so strangely stupid, not to acknow ledge Creation's miracle, when I point out Her very figure; you as well may seem, When the bleak north does, with congealing blasts, Bind up the crystal streams in chains of ice, Not to know winter; ignorant of her, Who, had she liv'd when superstitious mists Shaded the world, more groves of gums had flam'd T'her divinest beauty, than to all The race of idle deities: 'tis Chrisea, The fair Chrisea, loves you! Vit. The fair Chrisea? your lordship's merry. What I deliver'd with that unfeign'd zeal That penitents do their prayers? I say, Chrisea ; |