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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