Dione. A Pastoral Tragedy - Act 2, Scene 4

SCENE IV.

PARTHENIA. LYCIDAS. DIONE. LAURA.

PARTHENIA.

This melancholy scene demands a groan.
Hah! what inscription marks the weeping stone?
O pow'r of beauty! here Menalcas lies .
Gaze not, ye shepherds, on Parthenia's eyes .
Why did heav'n form me with such polish'd care?
Why cast my features in a mold so fair?
If blooming beauty was a blessing meant,
Why are my sighing hours deny'd content?
The downy peach, that glows with sunny dyes,
Feeds the black snail, and lures voracious flies;
The juicy pear invites the feather'd kind,
And pecking finches scoop the golden rind;
But beauty suffers more pernicious wrongs,
Blasted by envy, and censorious tongues.
How happy lives the nymph, whose comely face
And pleasing glances boast sufficient grace
To wound the swain she loves! no jealous fears
Shall vex her nuptial state with nightly tears,
Nor am'rous youths, to push their foul pretence,
Infest her days with dull impertinence.
But why talk I of love? my guarded heart
Disowns his power, and turns aside the dart.
Hark! from his hollow tomb Menalcas crys,
Gaze not, ye shepherds, on Parthenia's eyes .
Come, Lycidas , the mournful lay peruse,
Lest thou, like him, Parthenia 's eyes accuse.

LYCIDAS.

Call'd she not Lycidas? — I come, my fair;
See, gen'rous pity melts into a tear,
And her heart softens. Now 's the tender hour,
Assist me, Love, exert thy sov'raign power
To tame the scornful maid.

DIONE.

— — — Rash swain, be wise:
'Tis not from thee or him, from love she flies.
Leave her, forget her.

LAURA.

— — — Why this furious haste?
LYCIDAS.

Unhand me; loose me.

DIONE.

— — — Sister, hold him fast.
To follow her, is, to prolong despair.
Shepherd, you must not go.

LYCIDAS.

— — — Bold youth, forbear.
Here me, Parthenia .

PARTHENIA.

— — — From behind the shade
Methought a voice some list'ning spy betray'd.
Yes, I'm observ'd.

LYCIDAS.

— — — Stay, nymph: thy flight suspend.
She hears me not — when will my sorrows end!
As over-spent with toil, my heaving breast
Beats quick. 'Tis death alone can give me rest.
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