ACT V., SCENE 1.

_Enter_ SERVANT _and_ LYSICLES.

SER. Sir, I have waited, as you commanded, near the house of the Egyptian lady: something is done that disturbs them all, divers run in and out, physicians are sent for: at last, I went in myself, and entered her chamber, found her on her bed almost distracted with torture: cries she is poisoned: curses her jealousy and curiosity, calls upon your name; desires and then forbids you should be sent for.

LYS. But I will come to her confession. Courage, my soul, Let no faint pity hinder thee the joys Thou art receiving; triumph in their sufferings That have attempted thine. Look down, Milesia, Applaud my piety, that snatch'd the sword From sleeping justice to revenge thy death. [_Exit._

SER. What means my lord to be pleas'd with this Sad news? How can this stranger have offended him? I'll follow, learn the issue, and the cause. [_Aside. Exit._

_Enter the_ MOOR _on her bed_, HERMIONE, PHILLIDA, _and_ IRENE. _The bed thrust out._

MOOR. O, O, O gods! If I have merited your hate, You might have laid it on, until my name Had been a word to express full misery, And I had thank'd you, if you had forborne To make his innocence the instrument Of your dire wrath. Hermione, Irene, I have conjur'd my servants not to tell you, When I am dead, who I was: but if Their weakness shall discover't, let it be hid From the best Lysicles: I burn, I burn, And death dares not seize me, frighted With the furies that torment me.

HER. Mysterious powers! Instruct us in the way You would be serv'd, for we are ignorant; Your thunder else would not be aim'd at those, That follow virtue, as it is prescrib'd, Whilst thousand others 'scape unpunished, That violate the laws we are taught to keep.

_Enter_ LYSICLES.

LYS. What mean these sad expressions of sorrow?

HER. O my lord, nature had not made our hearts Capable of pity if we forbear it here: The virtuous Acanthe has been tormented With pains nothing is able to express But her own groans: she fears she's poison'd; Talks of you, of tombs, and of Milesia, And in the midst of all her torture says Her distrust and jealousy deserve a greater punishment.

LYS. And I believe't, nor should you pity her: Those that do trace forbidden paths of knowledge The gods reserve unto themselves, do never do't, But with intent to ruin the believers, And venturers on their art. Something I know O' th' curs'd effects of her commanding magic, And she (no doubt) is conscious to herself Of infinite more mischiefs than are yet reveal'd. I am confident she is fled her country For the ills she has done there, and now The punishment has overta'en her here. And, for her shows of virtue, they are masks To hide the rottenness that lies within, And gain her credit with some dissembled acts Of piety, which levels her a passage To those important mischiefs hell Has employ'd her here to execute.

MOOR. O gods! deny me not a death, since you Have given me the tortures that advance it: If I deserve this, your inflicting hands Do reach unto the shades, lay it on there. Hermione, Irene, is Lysicles yet come?

LYS. Yes, to counsel you to pacify the gods You have offended by your cursed arts: The blessed ghost you sent me to has told me Some sad effects on it, and in her name and cause Have the gods hurl'd this punishment on thy Foul soul, and made my grief, enrag'd to madness, The blessed instrument of thy destruction, Which does but here begin.

MOOR. You then did send The poison with the present I receiv'd?

LYS. Yes, I did; And wonder you durst tempt my just revenge, Unless you did believe, you could confine The revelations of the best spirits Your cursed charms betray'd first, And then enforc'd to leave their happy seats, To perfect the designs your malice labour'd in.

MOOR. What unknown ways have the gods invented To punish me! I feel a torment No tyranny e'er parallell'd, yet must confess An obligation to him that impos'd it. Good gods! If I do bow under your wills, Without repining at your sad decrees, Grant this to recompense my martyrdom, That he that is the author of my sufferings, May never learn his error. Sir, if torments E'er could expiate the crimes we have committed, Mine might challenge your pardon and your pity: I feel death entering me; love the memory Of your Milesia, and forgive----

IRE. Help, help! She dies!

LYS. If it be possible, call life into her for some minutes, her full confession will absolve my justice.

IRE. Bring some water here, she does but swoon. So, chafe her temples----O heavens! What prodigy is here! Her blackness falls away! My lord, look on this miracle; doth not heaven instruct us in pity of her wrongs, that the opinions which prejudice her virtue, should thus be washed away with the black clouds that hide her purer form?

HER. Heaven hath some further ends in this than we Can pierce. More water: she returns to life, And all the blackness of her face is gone.

IRE. Pallas, Apollo, what may this portend? My lord, have you not seen a face like this?

LYS. Yes, and horror seizeth me. Tis the idea Of my Milesia. Impenetrable powers! Deliver us in thunder your intents, And exposition of this metamorphosis.

HER. She stirs

LYS. Hold her up gently. [_He kneels._

MOOR. O, O! Why do you kneel to me?

LYS. Are not you Milesia?

MOOR. Why do you ask?

LYS. O, then you are.

MOOR. My Lysicles, I am by miracle preserv'd; Though, since the gods repent them of their succours, Knowing me unworthy of thy firm constant love, I never thought that death could be a terror, Too long acquainted with the miseries Pursue our lives; but now the apprehension My grave should swallow thee, makes me to welcome it With a heaviness that sinks despairing sinners.

LYS. Pour down your thunder, gods, upon this head, And try if that can make me yet more wretched. Was not her death affliction enough, But you must make me be the murderer? Is this a punishment for adoring her Equal with you, you made so equal to ye? Pardon the fault you forc'd me to commit: So visible a divinity could not be look'd On with less adoration.

MOOR. If e'er I did expect a happier death, May I die loath'd! What funeral pomp Can there be greater than for me to hear, Whilst I yet live, my dying obsequies With so much zeal pronounc'd by him I love?---- Tortures again do seize me.

LYS. Eyes, are you dry, where such an object calls [All] your tears forth! My blood shall supply their[363] place.

MOOR. For heaven's sake, hold his hands. O my best Lysicles, Do not destroy the comforts of my soul; What a division do I feel within me! I am but half-tormented; my soul in spite O' th' tortures of my body, does feel a joy That meets departed spirits in the blest shades.

LYS. What unexpected mischiefs circle me, What arts hath malice, arm'd with fortune, found To make me wretched? Could I e'er have thought A miracle could have restor'd thee to my eyes, That[364] they should, see the joys of heaven in thee? Yet now the height of my affliction is, That they behold thee, guilty of the close Of thine for ever. See, Hermione, The countenance death should put on, when death Would have us throng unto her palaces, And court her frozen sepulchres.

IRE. Sure, she is dead: how pale she is!

LYS. No; she is white as lilies, as the snow That falls upon Parnassus; if the red were here, As I have seen't enthron'd, the rising day would get New excellence by being compared to her: Argos nor Cyprus [nor] Egypt ne'er saw A beauty like to this; let it be lawful for me to usurp So much on death's right, as to take a kiss From thy cold virgin-lips, where he and love Yet strive for empire. The flames that rise from hence Are not less violent, though less pleasing now, Than when she did consent I should receive What now I ravish.

MOOR. Dares not death shut those eyes, where love Hath enter'd once, or am I in the shades Assisted with the ghost of my dear Lysicles?

LYS. She speaks again: good heaven, she speaks again!

HER. You are yet living?

MOOR. And, therefore dying; but, before I go, Let me obtain your pardon for the wrongs My jealousy hath thrown upon your innocence. 'Twas my too perfect knowledge of my want Of merit to deserve, made me doubt yours: I mean your constant love, which I will teach Below, and make them learn again to love Who have died for it.

LYS. Do not abuse your mercy and my grief By asking pardon of your murtherer; But curse your sufferings off on this devoted head, To save the beauty of the world in you.

MOOR. Why should your grief make me repent the joys I ever begg'd of heaven--the knowledge Of your love? Could there be added more Unto my happiness, than to be confirm'd By my own sufferings, how much you did love me, And prosecuted those that desired my ruin? Like Semele I die, who could not take The full God in her arms. I have but one wish more, that I may bear Unto the shades the glorious title of your wife: If I may live so long to hear but this Pronounc'd by Lysicles, I die in peace.

LYS. Hear it, with my vows not to behold The sun rise after you are gone.

MOOR. O, say not so; live, I command you, live; Let your obedience unto this command Show you have lost a mistress.

LYS. Can I hear this and live?

IRE. My lord, our cares will be employed better In seeking to avert this lady's death Than in deploring it.

LYS. You advise well. Run all to the physician: I will myself to Arnaldo, who gave This poison to me. Let me have word sent to the Cypress grove the minute she is dead. [_Exeunt. Draw in the bed._

_Enter_ LYSICLES _meditating_.

LYS. If life be given as a blessing to us, What law compels us to preserve it longer Than we can see a possibility Of being happy by it, but we must expect, Till the same power that plac'd us here, commands A restitution of His gift? This is indeed a rule To make us live, but not live happily. 'Tis true, the slave that frees himself by death, Doth wrong his master; but yet the gods are not Necessitous of us, but we of them. Who then is injur'd if I kill myself? And if I durst to hear their voice, they call Men to some other place, when they remove The gust and taste of this. We should adore, thee, death, If constant virtue, not enforcement, built Thy spacious temples.

_Enter_ EUGENIO.

Welcome, Eugenio, welcome, worthy friend; How long are you arrived?

EUG. Time enough to revenge, though not prevent The injuries you have done me.

LYS. What means my friend?

EUG. I must not hear that name now; you have lost The effects and virtue of it: I come to punish Your breach of faith.

LYS. Is hell afraid my constancy should conquer The mischiefs that are rais'd to swallow me, That it invents new plagues to batter me? By all that's holy, I never did offend my friend-- Not in a thought.

EUG. Those that by breach of vows provoke their justice Do seldom fear profaning of their names; To hide their perjuries will put it on them. You have attempted my Hermione, And forc'd her father to compel her voice Unto your marriage.

LYS. All this I do confess; but 'twas for both your goods, As I will now inform you.

EUG. Hell and furies! Because your specious titles, Your spreading vineyards, and your gilded house Do shine upon our cottage, must our faiths, Which heaven did seal, be cancell'd? 'Twas my virtue Won her fair graces, which still outshine Your flames of vice.

LYS. It hath not light enough to let you see your friend. Gods, could that man have liv'd that dar'd to say Eugenio did suspect his Lysicles? And now in pity you do show him me, That I may fly the world without regret, Not leaving one of worth behind me in it. Be gone, and learn your errors.

EUG. I have done't already. They were trusting you With my life's happiness. Draw, and restore the vows You made Hermione; or I will leave you dead, And tear them from your heart.

LYS. Fond man! thou dost not know how much 'tis in My power to make thee miserable: I could now force thee execute my wish In killing me; and thou wouldst fly the light, When it had show'd thee whom thy rage offended. But till I fall by my own hand, my life Is chain'd unto my honour, which I will wear Upon my sepulchre. Nor must I die, Being guilty of Milesia's murder, For any cause but hers; else were my breast, Since you have wrong'd me, open to your point.

EUG. Can you deny but that you have attempted The faith of my Hermione?

LYS. I can with so strong circumstance of truth Would make you blush for having doubted mine. But he that was my friend, and suspects me, Must attend less satisfaction than a stranger. Proceed, and let your case be both your judge and guide.

EUG. What should I do? I dare not trust my sense, If he should tell me that it does deceive me: Virtue itself would lose her quality Ere he forsook her, and his words do fall Distorted from him; his soul doth labour Under some heavy burden, which my passion Did hinder me from seeing. Sir, forgive, Or take your full revenge; let your own griefs Teach you to pity those are distract with it. I will not rise until you pardon me.

LYS. O my Eugenio, thy kindness hath undone me! My rage did choke my grief, which now did spread Itself over my soul and body. Up, and help To bear me till I fall eternally.

EUG. Who can hear this, and not be turn'd to marble? Good sir, impart your sorrows; I may bring comfort.

LYS. Whilst they were capable, thou didst; but now They are too great and swoll'n to let it in. Milesia, whom you and I supposed dead, By me to-day is poison'd, and lies dying In her torment. Is not this strange?

EUG. What have you said that is not? But heaven avert this last!

LYS. It is too late now; let me beg thy kindness Would do that for me I forbad thy passion.

EUG. What is't?

LYS. Kill me.

EUG. You cannot wish me such an hated office! Call up your reason and your courage to you, Which was not given you only for the wars, But to resist the batteries of fortune. People will say that Lysicles did want Part of that courage fame did speak him lord of, When they shall hear him sunk below her succour.

LYS. You will not kill me then?

EUG. When I believe there is no other means To ease you, I will do't.

LYS. All but death are fled.

EUG. Then draw your sword, and as I lift my arm To sheathe this in your breast, let yours pierce me; On this condition I may do your will.

LYS. I may not for the world. Why should you die?

EUG. See how your passions blind you! Is death An ease or torment? If it be a joy, Why should you envy it your dearest friend?

LYS. Our causes are not equal.

EUG. They will be, when you're dead. How you mistake The laws of friendship, and commit those faults You did accuse me of! I would not live so long To think you can survive your dying friend.

LYS. Eugenio, I am conquered; yet I hope thy kindness Will do that for me which thy sword refuseth. Love thy Hermione: she deserves it. Friend, Leave me alone awhile.

EUG. Your grief's too great for me to trust your life with't: I dare not venture you beyond my help.

WITHIN. Where's Prince Lysicles? Where's Prince Lysicles?

LYS. Hark! I am call'd, the fatal news is come.

[_Draws._

EUG. Fie! how unmanly's this? Can sounds affright you, Which yet you know not whether they do bring Or joys or sorrows? When remedies are despair'd of, You have still leave to die. Perhaps she lives, And you'll exhale her soul into your wounds, And be the death of her you mourn for living.

WITHIN. Where's Prince Lysicles? Where's Prince Lysicles?

EUG. It is the voice of comfort; none would strive To be a sad relator. I'll call him. Holla! Here he is.

_Enter a_ SERVANT.

SER. The strange lady kisses Your hands, my lord: Arnaldo has restored her; She bid me say your sight can only give Perfection to what he has begun.

EUG. Will you die now?

LYS. Softly, good friend: gently let it Slide into my breast; my heart is too narrow yet To take so full a joy in. You're sure this news is true?

SER. Upon my life.

EUG. Why should you doubt it?

LYS. My comforts ever were like winter suns, That rise late and [then] set betimes: set with thick clouds That hide their light at noon. But be this true, And I have life enough to let me see it, I shall be ever happy.

EUG. So, 'tis well; At length his hope hath taught despair to fear. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ MILESIA, HERMIONE, IRENE, PHYSICIAN.

PHY. Madam, my innocence will plead my pardon; I could not guess for whom my lord intended it. The truth is I feared, considering his deep melancholy, he intended to use it on himself, and therefore meant to make him out of love with death, by suffering the pains our souls do feel when they are violenced from us. I had provided antidotes, but could not till this hour learn on whom it was employed. Sure I was, it could be death to none, though full of torment.

MIL. Till I have farther means to thank you, receive this ring.

HER. But, madam, what did poor[365] Hermione deserve, That you should hide yourself from her? Or are you the Milesia that was pleas'd To call me friend? or is she buried By Pallas' temple? Truly, belief and memory, Opposing sense, makes me doubt which to credit.

I wept you dead, the virgins did entomb you: Were we then or no deceiv'd?

MIL. My fair dear friend, you shall know all my story. 'Tis true, my uncle did design my death For loving Lysicles; for, at his coming hither, He charg'd me, by all ties that were between us, To hate him as the ruin of his honour; And yet, for some dark ends I understood not, Resolv'd to leave me here. I swore obedience, But knew not what offence it was to keep An oath so made, till I had seen Lysicles, Which at your house I did, when he came wounded From hunting of the boar. All but his name Appear'd most godlike to me. You all did run To stop his wounds, and I thought I might see My enemy's blood; yet soon did pity seize me, To see him bleed. Thus, love taking the shape Of pity, glided unseen of me into my heart, And whilst I thought myself but charitable, I nurs'd my infant love with milk of pity, Till he grew strong enough to take me prisoner. I found his eyes on mine, and ere I could Remove them, heard him say, he'd thank his fortune For this last wound, if 'twere the cause Of seeing me; then took his leave, But left me speechless that I could not say, My heart, farewell! After this visit our loves Grew to that height that you have heard of.

HER. The groves and temples, and dark shades have heard Them mourn'd and celebrated by your friend.

MIL. I had a servant unsuspected of me, (For none I trusted that observ'd our meetings,) Who[366] guessing by my sighs that love had made them, Betray'd them to my uncle. On Pallas' eve He rush'd into my chamber, his sword drawn, And snatch'd me by the arm. I fell down, But, knowing yet no fault, could beg no pardon. Awhile our eyes did only speak our thoughts; At length out of his bosom he pull'd a paper: It was the contract betwixt my lord and me; And ask'd me if I would avow the hand. Heaven, said I, has approv'd it, and the gods Have chose this way to reunite our houses. Stain of thy kindred's honour, he exclaims, Was there no other man to ease your lust But he that was our greatest enemy? Resolve to die: thy blood shall hide the stains. Of our dishonour.

HER. He could not be so cruel to intend it?

MIL. He was; for leaving me oppress'd with sighs And tears, yet not of sorrow and repentance, But fear that I should leave my dearest servant, Commands his cruel slaves to murder me As I descended; and lest pity should Create remorse, in their obdurate hearts, The lights were all put out. Then hastily My name was heard. I then entreated her That betray'd me to tell them I was coming, And took this time to write unto my lord. She went, but by the way was seiz'd And strangled by those murderers That expected me. My uncle heard Her latest groans; and now the act was pass'd His power to help, he wish'd it were undone: Brings lights to see the body, and perceiv'd The strange mistake. By signs and lifted eyes Confess'd heaven's hand was in't; yet would not leave His revenge here--commands his slaves to change My clothes with hers was slain; then takes the head off, And on the trunk did leave a note which told My death for loving Lysicles, in hope my ruin, Knowing his noble nature, would be his. At midnight quits this town, leaving none behind Were conscious of the fact--immures me in His house; till I escap'd in that disguise I wore when I first came to you.

IRE. Why did You not declare yourself when you came hither?

MIL. You were the cause on't. At my arrival here I heard my Lysicles should marry you, And therefore kept the habit I was in, To search unknown the truth of this report, And practis'd in the private actions Of some near friends, got an opinion I could presage the future. Thus was I Sought by you, thus [I] found the faith Of my dear Lysicles, when at the tomb I did Appear his ghost, and had reveal'd myself, had not The shame of doubting such a faith kept my desires in.

HER. Then he dissembled when he made love to me?

MIL. He did. Forgive it him; 'twas for his friend.

HER. I am sorry for it.

MIL. How, my dear friend?

_Enter_ LYSICLES _and_ EUGENIO.

HER. Nay, it is true. Eugenio and he are of such equal Tempers I shall suspect he has dissembled too.

MIL. O, you are pleasant! Here comes my lord.

LYS. Is there a wish beyond this happiness, When I embrace thee thus? I will not ask Thy story now: it is enough to know That you are living.

MIL. The gods have made this trial in my sufferings, If I deserv'd so great a blessing: I have but one grief left.

LYS. Is that word yet on earth?

MIL. Yes, but it springs from an excessive joy Of finding such admired worth in you. What I hereafter shall do in your service Must wear the name of gratitude, not love.

LYS. No, my Milesia, Mine was the first engagement, and the gods Made thee so excellent to keep on earth Love that was flying hence, finding no object Worthy to fix him here.

HER. No more, Eugenio: if your words could add Expressions to your love, you had not had So much of mine; and after I have tried Your faith so many ways, it would appear Ingratitude, not modesty, to show A mistress' coldness.

EUG. May I believe all advantageous words, Or may I doubt them, seeing they come from you, Who are all truth? I will not speak How undeserving I am of these favours, Because I will not wrong th' election Your gracious pity forceth on your judgment.

LYS. Our joys do multiply; but, my dear friend, I have yet something that will add to yours. My father's call'd to court, and you are left Governor in his place; this, I know, will make Lord Pindarus consent to both your wishes. Your pardon, madam, and when you lie embrac'd With your Eugenio, tell him, if my faith Had not the double tie of friend and mistress, A single one had yielded to the hopes Of the enjoying you. Here comes my lord!

_Enter_ PINDARUS.

O my good lord, I must entreat your pardon For a fault my love unto my friend engag'd me in: Let your consent complete the happiness Of these two perfect lovers; I am confident You ever did approve his virtue: his fortune now Can be no hindrance, since our gracious king, In contemplation of his merits, Hath made him governor in my father's place.

PIN. Most willingly I give it, since I've lost the Hopes of being allied to you: heaven bless you both! Sir, your own love of my Hermione, And yours now, will teach you t' admit An easy satisfaction for the troubles My love unto my child hath thrown upon you.

EUG. You are all goodness, and my services, Ever directed by your will, shall show, Though I can never merit this great honour, I will do nothing shall deprive me of The honour of your love and favour.

PIN. Your virtue promiseth more than I may hear From you. Once more, heaven bless you! If my Lord Ergasto now were satisfied, I shall be at peace; for, having promised My daughter to him, I would not have him Think that by me he's injur'd.

HER. 'Tis in your power, sir, to satisfy him.

PIN. I would do anything.

HER. Persuade my cousin to confess she loves him, Which I do know she does; and he already Has made profession of his unto my prejudice: Nay, blush not, cousin, since you would not allow me This secret as a friend, you may excuse Th' inquisitiveness of a rival.

MIL. This is all truth, my lord, I can assure you.

PIN. Is't possible, Irene, do you love Ergasto?

IRE. Methinks your experience, uncle, should teach you That such a question was not to be ask'd. Well, if I did love[367] him, 'twas 'cause I thought That he lov'd me; but if he does not, I pardon him: for I am certain he Once believ'd it himself.

PIN. If ever love Make any deep impression in you, I am deceiv'd.

IRE. His dart may strike as far into me As into another, for aught you know, uncle.

PIN. You have ill-luck else, niece.

_Enter_ PHORMIO, ERGASTO, CLEON.

PHOR. Nay, it is most certain, the town is full of it: Milesia, I know not how, is alive again: Eugenio is made governor; though you were constant, You can have no longer hopes of Hermione: Therefore let me advise you, make that seem Your own election which'll else be enforcement: Quit your interest in Hermione, and renew Your suit to Irene.

ERG. Observe me.

PIN. Welcome, my lords, do you know this lady?

ERG. Most perfectly, and came to congratulate With the prince for her double recovery.

LYS. I thank you, my lord; and when my friend and you Are reconcil'd, you may assure yourself I am your servant.

ERG. What's in my power to give him satisfaction, He may command.

EUG. Your friendship does it.

PIN. My lord, this reconcilement will make way Unto my pardon: I have not been wanting In my promise to you; but my daughter thinks she Has chosen so well that, without my leave, She hath made herself her own disposer.

ERG. Ages of happiness attend them! If I may hope to gain the graces of the fair Irene, I shall be happy too.

PIN. If I have any power, she shall be yours.

LYS. Let me beg the honour of interceding; your fortunes and conditions are so equal, it were a sin to part you.

PHOR. Pray, sir, let him do it himself: the task is not so hard to require a mediator.

IRE. Have you such skill in perspective?

PHOR. As good as any chiromancer in Egypt, madam.

ERG. He has reason, for I have opened my breast to him, and he has seen my heart, and you enthroned in't.

PHOR. He tells you true, lady.

IRE. Indeed, sir! And pray, what did it look like?

PHOR. Faith, to deal truly, much like the wheel of fortune which, turning round, puts the same persons sometimes at top, sometimes at bottom: but at last love shot his dart thorough the axle-tree, and fixed you regent.

IRE. Well, I have considered, and my cousin's example shall teach me.

ERG. What, in the name of doubt?

IRE. To avoid the infinite troubles you procured her by your fruitless solicitations. D'ye think your tears shall cost me so many tears as they have done her?

PIN. You may excuse them by consenting to your friend's desires.

MIL. Sweet madam, let me obtain this for him. He dies if you deny him.

HER. Dear Irene, perfect the happiness of this day.

IRE. You have great reason to persuade me to take him you abhorred.

HER. I was engaged.

IRE. Well, if any here will pass their words he can continue constant a week, I will be disposed by you.

OMNES. We all will be engaged for him.

IRE. On this condition I admit him to a month's service, and myself to a perpetual servitude.

ERG. I ever shall be yours.

IRE. My father said so, till my mother wept.[368]

EUG. A notable wooing this!

LYS. And as notably finish'd. Let's now unto my father, who expects You, to deliver his commission to you. Come, my Milesia, tell my wounded heart No more her sighs shall wander through the air, Not knowing where to find thee: no more Shall the mistaken tomb of false OEnone Be moist'ned with my tears; yet, since she died To save thy life, her ghost could not expect A cheaper sacrifice. This I'll only add: In memory of us, all lovers shall Repute this day as their great festival.

FOOTNOTES:

[363] [Old copy, _your_.]

[364] [Old copy, _but_.]

[365] [Old copy; _your poor_.]

[366] [Old copy, _and_.]

[367] [Dodsley omitted _love_.]

[368] [Some of the sallies of the fair Irene remind us of Shakespeare's Beatrice.]

FINIS.

Transcriber's Notes:

Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were corrected.

Punctuation normalized.

Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.

Italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_.

Greek text is transliterated and enclosed in ~tildes~.