ACT IV. SCENE I.

_Enter_ LEONIDAS, _musing;_ AMALTHEA, _following him._

_Amal._ Yonder he is; and I must speak or die; And yet 'tis death to speak: yet he must know I have a passion for him, and may know it With a less blush; because to offer it To his low fortunes, shows I loved before, His person, not his greatness.

_Leon._ First scorned, and now commanded from the court! The king is good; but he is wrought to this By proud Argaleon's malice. What more disgrace can love and fortune join To inflict upon one man? I cannot now Behold my dear Palmyra: She, perhaps, too, Is grown ashamed of a mean ill-placed love.

_Amal._ Assist me, Venus, for I tremble when I am to speak, but I must force myself. [_Aside._ Sir, I would crave but one short minute with you, And some few words.

_Leon._ The proud Argaleon's sister! [_Aside._

_Amal._ Alas! it will not out; Shame stops my mouth. [_Aside._ Pardon my error, sir; I was mistaken, And took you for another.

_Leon._ In spite of all his guards, I'll see Palmyra; [_Aside._ Though meanly born, I have a kingly soul.

_Amal._ I stand upon a precipice, where fain I would retire, but love still thrusts me on: Now I grow bolder, and will speak to him. [_Aside._ Sir, 'tis indeed to you that I would speak, And if--

_Leon._ O, you are sent to scorn my fortunes? Your sex and beauty are your privilege; But should your brother--

_Amal._ Now he looks angry, and I dare not speak. I had some business with you, sir, But 'tis not worth your knowledge.

_Leon._ Then 'twill be charity to let me mourn My griefs alone, for I am much disordered.

_Amal._ 'Twill be more charity to mourn them with you: Heaven knows I pity you.

_Leon._ Your pity, madam, Is generous, but 'tis unavailable.

_Amal._ You know not till 'tis tried. Your sorrows are no secret; you have lost A crown, and mistress.

_Leon._ Are not these enough? Hang two such weights on any other soul, And see if it can bear them.

_Amal._ More; you are banished, by my brother's means, And ne'er must hope again to see your princess; Except as prisoners view fair walks and streets, And careless passengers going by their grates, To make them feel the want of liberty. But, worse than all, The king this morning has enjoined his daughter To accept my brother's love.

_Leon._ Is this your pity? You aggravate my griefs, and print them deeper, In new and heavier stamps.

_Amal._ 'Tis as physicians show the desperate ill, To endear their art, by mitigating pains They cannot wholly cure: When you despair Of all you wish, some part of it, because Unhoped for, may be grateful; and some other--

_Leon._ What other?

_Amal._ Some other may-- My shame again has seized me, and I can go [_Aside._ No farther.

_Leon._ These often failing sighs and interruptions Make me imagine you have grief like mine: Have you ne'er loved?

_Amal._ I? never!--'Tis in vain: I must despair in silence. [_Aside._

_Leon._ You come, as I suspected then, to mock, At least observe, my griefs: Take it not ill, That I must leave you. [_Is going._

_Amal._ You must not go with these unjust opinions. Command my life and fortunes: you are wise; Think, and think well, what I can do to serve you.

_Leon._ I have but one thing in my thoughts and wishes: If, by your means, I can obtain the sight Of my adored Palmyra; or, what's harder, One minute's time, to tell her, I die hers-- [_She starts back._ I see I am not to expect it from you; Nor could, indeed, with reason.

_Amal._ Name any other thing! Is Amalthea So despicable, she can serve your wishes In this alone?

_Leon._ If I should ask of heaven, I have no other suit.

_Amal._ To show you, then, I can deny you nothing, Though 'tis more hard to me than any other, Yet I will do it for you.

_Leon._ Name quickly, name the means! speak, my good angel!

_Amal._ Be not so much o'erjoyed; for, if you are, I'll rather die than do't. This night the court Will be in masquerade; You shall attend on me; in that disguise You may both see and speak to her, If you dare venture it.

_Leon._ Yes; were a god her guardian, And bore in each hand thunder, I would venture.

_Amal._ Farewell, then; two hours hence I will expect you:-- My heart's so full, that I can stay no longer. [_Exit._

_Leon._ Already it grows dusky: I'll prepare With haste for my disguise. But who are these?

_Enter_ HERMOGENES _and_ EUBULUS.

_Her._ 'Tis he; we need not fear to speak to him.

_Eub._ Leonidas?

_Leon._ Sure I have known that voice.

_Her._ You have some reason, sir: 'tis Eubulus, Who bred you with the princess; and, departing, Bequeathed you to my care.

_Leon._ My foster-father! let my knees express My joys for your return! [_Kneeling._

_Eub._ Rise, sir; you must not kneel.

_Leon._ E'er since you left me, I have been wandering in a maze of fate, Led by false fires of a fantastic glory, And the vain lustre of imagined crowns. But, ah! why would you leave me? or how could you Absent yourself so long?

_Eub._ I'll give you a most just account of both: And something more I have to tell you, which I know must cause your wonder; but this place, Though almost hid in darkness, is not safe. Already I discern some coming towards us [_Torches appear._ With lights, who may discover me. Hermogenes, Your lodgings are hard by, and much more private.

_Her._ There you may freely speak.

_Leon._ Let us make haste; For some affairs, and of no small importance, Call me another way. [_Exeunt._