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To him who never can usurp her heart,
Before contracted mine, is now so yoked
To a most barbarous thraldom, misery,
Affliction, that he savours not humanity,
Whose sorrow melts not into more than pity,
In hearing but her name.
Crot. As how, pray ?
The man that calls her wise, considers truly
What heaven of perfections he is lord of,
By thinking fair Penthea his; this thought
Begets a kind of monster-love, which love
Is nurse unto a fear so strong and servile,
As brands all dotage with a jealousy.
All eyes who gaze upon that shrine of beauty,
He doth resolve,' do homage to the miracle ;
Some one, he is assur'd, may now or then
(If opportunity but sort) prevail :
So much, out of a self-unworthiness,
His fears transport him!-not that he finds cause
In her obedience, but his own distrust.
Crot. You spin out your discourse.
Org. My griefs are violent,
For knowing how the maid was heretofore
Courted by me, his jealousies grow wild
That I should steal again into her favours,
And undermine her virtues; which, the gods
Know, I nor dare, nor dream of: hence, from
I undertake a voluntary exile;
First, by my absence to take off the cares
Of jealous Bassanes; but chiefly, sir,
To free Penthea from a hell on earth:
Lastly, to lose the memory of something,
Her presence makes to live in me afresh,
Crot. Enough, my Orgilus, enough. To Athens,
1 He doth resolve,) i. e. he doth satisfy, convince himself.GIF FORD.
I give a full consent;—alas, good lady!
We shall hear from thee often?
Thy sister comes to give a farewell.
Enter EUPHRANEA. Euph. Brother!
Org: Euphranea, thus upon thy cheeks I print A brother's kiss; more careful of thine honour, Thy health, and thy well-doing, than my life. Before we part, in presence of our father, I must prefer a suit t' you,
Euph. You may style it,
My brother, a command.
Org. That you will promise
Never to pass to any man, however
Worthy, your faith, till, with our father's leave,
I give a free consent.
Crot. An easy motion!
I'll promise for her, Orgilus.
Org. Your pardon;
Euphranea's oath must yield me satisfaction.
Euph. By Vesta's sacred fires, I swear.
Crot. And I,
By great Apollo's beams, join in the vow;
Not, without thy allowance, to bestow her.
On any living,
Org. Dear Euphranea,
Mistake me not; far, far 't is from my thought,
As far from any wish of mine, to hinder
Preferment to an honourable bed,
Or fitting fortune; thou art young and handsome;
And 't were injustice,-more, a tyranny,
Not to advance thy merit: trust me, sister,
It shall be my first care to see thee match'd
As may become thy choice, and our contents,
I hạye your oath,
Euph. You have'; but mean you, brother,
To leave us, as you say ?
Crot. Ay, ay, Euphranea.
He has just grounds to direct him; I will prove
A father and a brother to thee.
Does look into the secrets of all hearts :
Gods! you have mercy with you, else-
Crot. Doubt nothing,
Thy brother will return in safety to us.
Org. Souls sunk in sorrows never are without
them; They change fresh airs, but bear their griefs about them.
A Room in the Palace. , Flourish. Enter AMYCLAS, ARMOSTES, PROPHILUS,
Courtiers and Attendants,
Anyc. The Spartan gods are gracious; our hu-
Shall bend before their altars, and perfume
Their temples with abundant sacrifice.
See, lords, Amyclas, your old king, is entering
Into his youth again! I shall shake off
This silver badge of age, and change this snow
For hairs as gay as are Apollo's locks;
Our heart leaps in new vigour.
Arm. May old time
Run back to double your long life, great sir!.
Amyc. It will, it must, Armostes; thy bold ne-
Death-braving Ithocles, brings to our gates
Triumphs and peace upon his conquering sword.
Laconia is a monarchy at length;
Hath in this latter war trod under foot
Messene's pride; Messene bows her neck
To Lacedæmon's royalty. O, 't was
A glorious victory, and doth deserve
More than a chronicle; a temple, lords,
A temple to the name of Ithocles.
Where didst thou leave him, Prophilus?
Pro. At Pephon,
Most gracious sovereign: twenty of the noblest
Of the Messenians there attend your pleasure,
For such conditions as you shall propose,
In settling peace, and liberty of life.
Amyc. When comes your friend the general ?
Pro. He promised
To follow with all speed convenient.
Enter CrotoLON, CALANTHA, EUPHRANEA, CHRISTALLA
and PHILEMA with a garland.
Amyc. Our daughter! Dear Calantha, the happy
The conquest of Messene, hath already
Enrich'd thy knowledge.
i Cal. With the circumstance
And manner of the fight, related faithfully
By Prophilus himself—but, pray, sir, tell me,
How doth the youthful general demean
His actions in these fortunes ?
Pro. Excellent princess,
Your own fair eyes may soon report a truth
Unto your judgment, with what moderation,
Calmness of nature, measure, bounds, and limits
Of thankfulness and joy, he doth digest
Such amplitude of his success, as would,
In others, moulded of spirit less clear,
Advance them to comparison with heaven:
Cal. Your friend
Pro. He is so, madam, 'In which the period of my fate consists He, in this firmament of honour, stands
Like a star fix'd, not mov'd with any thunder
Of popular applause, or sudden lightning
Of self-opinion; he hath serv'd his country,
And thinks 't was but his duty.
Crot. You describe
A miracle of man.
Amyc, Such, Crotolon,
On forfeit of a king's word, thou wilt find him.
Hark, warning of his coming! all attend him.
Enter ITHOCLES, ushered in by the Lords, and followed
by HÉMOPHIL and GRONEAS. Amyc. Return into these arms, thy home, thy
sanctuary, Delight of Sparta, treasure of my bosom, Mine own, own Ithocles !
Ith. Your humblest subject.
Arm. Proud of the blood I claim an interest in,
As brother to thy mother, I embrace thee,
Right noble nephew.
Ith. Sir, your love's too partial.
Crot. Our country speaks by me, who by thy
Wisdom, and service, shares in this great action;
Returning thee, in part of thy due merits,
A general welcome.
Ith. You exceed in bounty.
Cal. Christalla, Philema, the chaplet.—[Takes the
chaplet from them.)-Ithocles,
Upon the wings of fame, the singular
And chosen fortune of a high attempt,
Is borne so past the view of common sight,
That I myself, with mine own hands, have wrought
To crown thy temples, this provincial' garland;
I This provincial garland,] i.e. the wreath (of laurel) which she had prepared; and which the ancients conferred on those who, like Ithocles, had added a province to the empire. These honorary chaplets or crowns were, as every schoolboy knows, composed of plants, leaves, or flowers, according to the nature of the service rendered. Thus we have the provincial, the civic, the mural, the obsidional, and various other gar: