ZEMIRA.

May I speak out a thought unvarnish'd, madam?

ΑΜΑΝΑ.

Ay, in good sooth; thy blunt simplicity

Will refresh my senses, too much used, alas!

To courtesy that hath no meaning.

Nay, I promise thee.

ZEMIRA.

Thou'it be angry?

AMANA.

ZEMIRA.

Smile, and I'll believe.

Why, lady, dost thou deem the evergreen

Unmeet to match the blushing queen of flowers?
It hath example:- I know thou lovest ;

Yet I do see thee mournful, and oppress'd with grief.
If love with melancholy thus can mate,
Melissa's garland should not seem ill chosen :
Like smiles in tearful eyes 't is a fit emblem
Of that heart, where grief and love hold equal
Sway.

ΑΜΑΝΑ.

Thou hast a kindly heart, Zemira; And dost but mean thus prettily to chide My sad indulgence in this murky mood: Come, then, cheat the dull hours.

ZEMIRA.

With music, lady?

Shall I attune my lute, and chant a melody

To celebrate this day?

ΑΜΑΝΑ.

What of it, girl?

All days are now alike to me, and time

Hangs heavily. Why should'st thou note this day?

Oh! that it might lure back

Thy wonted cheerfulness. See, Helena

Approaches: lady, shall I withdraw awhile?

Enter HELENA.

HELENA.

Pardon this bold intrusion.

I come to interest thee in the fate

Of my most honour'd lady.

ΑΜΑΝΑ.

I am more interested than perchance

Thou art aware of. What would'st thou of me?

HELENA.

Procles sets all power at nought: prayers nor threats Regards he.

AMANA.

I have not to learn from others

The story of his rash intemperance:

Too well I know it.

HELENA.

Use thine influence, lady.

In pity to Melissa, speak to him.

AMANA.

That dame can lack no champion: the hoary head
Grows young, and youth doth ripen in her smile.
I hear she's fair, and of right merry mood:

The soul of harmony: can tune her lyre

At Procles' bidding : — plaits the glossy braid

Around her brow, with care, to please his fancy:

D

Industrious, too; - but that she spins her web
More to ensnare than cheat her pressing suitors.

HELENA.

What tongue malevolent has dared to utter
Such gross calumny? That she has beauty
Is most true; but temper'd with sweet modesty.
I grant her eyes outshine the beaming stars,
And most untrue it is they smile on Procles.
The tears of anguish scald her pallid cheek,
And her heart's big with woe.

AMANA.

Then she's belied:

Report speaks of her as exceeding far

The courtesy that's due, in this her welcome

To her husband's friend.

HELENA.

Ah! believe it not;

No turtle mourns more piteously her mate
Than she her absent love: - the early lark
Bears witness to her sighs

Receives her sad complaint.

the ear of night

She's sick with grief. The traitor, Procles, takes most vile advantage Of her widow'd state, and husband's confidence. E'en now she languishes in Pelop's tower; And fears each hour some aggravated insult.

AMANA (aside).

Perfidious man! and is it come to this?

HELENA.

I grieve thou'st cause for tears; yet they become
Thy cheek those precious drops lend grace to beauty,
Although endow'd with charms more numerous

Than Venus' zone encircles, or Hebe's dimples

Treasure up.

Woman would seem most hideous,

Did she not sympathise with her own sex
The vermeil tinctured lip will show more lovely
When it speaks the praise of rival excellence.

AMANA.

Melissa's injuries are mine. Our peace
Is ruined by the same base destroyer.

HELENA.

Can we not save her?

ΑΜΑΝΑ.

Surely Melissa's safe whilst Periander

Breathes the vital air. Procles' hardihood

Oh! plead for her when next you see the tyrant.

AMANA.

Plead for her! alas! I need eloquence

To serve my own cause. Can I stem the torrent
Of his lawless passion? I am borne down

Myself in the wild current, and my hopes

Are wrecked! Procles is made of sterner mould

Than to be turned aside by woman's prayers.