Phi. The gods are juft. But, my Bellario, (For I must call thee still fo) tell me, why Thou didft conceal thy fex; it was a fault; A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds Of truth outweigh'd it: all these jealoufies Had flown to nothing, if thou hadft discover'd, What now we know.
Bel. My father oft would speak
Your worth and virtue, and as I did grow More and more apprehensive, I did thirst To fee the man fo prais'd; but yet all this Was but a maiden-longing, to be loft As foon as found; till fitting in my window, Printing my thoughts in lawn, I faw a God I thought (but it was you) enter our gates; My blood flew out, and back again as fast, As I had puff'd it forth and fuck'd it in Like breath; then was I call'd away in hafte To entertain you. Never was a man, Heav'd from a fheep-cote to a fceptre, rais'd So high in thoughts as I; you left a kiss Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep From you for ever; I did hear you talk, Far above finging; after you were gone I grew acquainted with my heart, and fearch'd What ftirr'd it fo: alas, I found it love;
Yet far, from ill, for could I have but liv'd In prefence of you, I had had my end; For this I did delude my noble father With a feign'd pilgrimage, and dress'd myself In habit of a boy; and, for I knew My birth no match for you, I was past hope Of having you: And understanding well That when I made discovery of my fex, I could not stay with you; I made a vow, By all the most religious things a maid Could call together, never to be known,
Whilft there was hope to hide me from mens'
For other than I feem'd, that I might ever
Abide with you; then fat I by the fount,
you took me up.
King. Search out a match
Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt, And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself
Wilt well deferve him.
Bel. Never, Sir, will I
Marry; it is a thing within my vow.
Phi. I grieve, fuch virtues fhould be laid in earth Without an heir.-Hear me, my royal father, Wrong not the freedom of our fouls fo much, To think to take revenge of that base woman;
Her malice cannot hurt us; fet her free As fhe was born, faving from shame and fin. King. Well! be it fo. You, Pharamond, Shall have free paffage, and a conduct home Worthy fo great a prince; when you come there, Remember, 'twas your fault that lost you her, And not my purpos'd will.
King. Last, join your hands in one. Enjoy, Philafter,
This kingdom, which is yours, and after me Whatever I call mine; my bleffing on you! All happy hours be at your marriage-joys, That you may grow yourselves over all lands, And live to see your plenteous branches spring Where-ever there is fun!--Let princes learn By this to rule the paffions of their blood! For what Heav'n wills, can never be withstood,
First acted at the Theatre-Royal in Covent-Garden, on the 20th of February, 1768.
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