Siege, The: Or, Love's Convert, A Tragi-Comedy - Act 1. Scene 6


Mis. Do y' mock me with a shadow? and present
A Baby for a Goddesse? I'l proportion
Revenge unto your Crime, and leave nought else
To testifie the memory of your City,
But idle foolish Pictures, such as these.
Pata. Our City sends them not in Policy
To keep you longer off. It is not, that
They may deny you, but that you may choose;
And if it please you but to stoop so low
As to design but one of them, and make her
More fair by such your choise, there shall be no
Delay in fetching her, but what you make
In giving the Command.
Prus. They dare not mock you;
You need not doubt performance, I will warrant
The very Father will conduct her to
Your Bed, and be glad of th' emploiment too.
Tim. There's nothing wanting to them but the Life;
Did they but move you, th' had been very Virgins.
Mis. How dare you look upon 'em, being I am
To make my choice of one? — — Let's see the Pictures.
Nic. These are the very Stars that gild our city:
As for this other, 'tis the Picture of one
Whose very sight's an Epigram: to draw her
Is only lawfully to Libell her.
She is a good well-willer to your Majesty.
Prus. A well-willer say you to his Majesty?
Let's see't.
Nic. A Widdow, that I'm Sutor to;
I hope you'l scorn to take my leavings Sir.
Mis. Whose Picture's this?
Pat. 'Tis one Leucasia's ,
The Daughter of Eudemus .
Mis. That is she.
Along with them, Timophilus , and fetch her:
I love her in the Picture.
Nic. O the Times!
Not bid me eat? there is no courtesie
I see in Tyrants. Please your Highnesse, I'd
Fain tell what house you keep when I come home.
Mis. Goe, give him what the Camp affords.
Nic. D'y' hear* Sir,
Be fair condition'd; use that Picture honestly
I pray y', and do not make my Pencill Cuckold.
Mis. I wonder his Affection would permit
His Art to shew it self in such a Piece.
Could he gaze so long on, as to pourtray,
And have so little flame, as not to love?
Shee's too exactly perfect to be brought
Forth by a Woman: Nature sure her self
Descending to conceive, travell'd with her.
Cle. Why do you fasten those large Eyes, which should
Shed light, as doth the Sun, on every place
Due to the World, upon a silly Tablet?
Mis. Where the bare shadow's such, what is the Substance?
That face which carries Natures favours Printed
Upon it in such gracious Characters,
By a most lawfull captivating Power
Makes all our Senses hers. But take it hence:
I have her in my Mind, a Tablet that
Thine hands cannot remove; there I behold her
Drawn by my Thoughts far better than the Pencill.
O! I do feel something that is not Lust;
A thing that is more subtle, more refin'd
Than to be stil'd Desire.
Cleo. I hope you will not
Begin to yoak your self at last? It is
The love of private men that doth descend
To Ceremonious Wedlock. You're t enjoy
Without that idle knot of Matrimony.
Mis. But that I have not leasure now to punish
I'ld — — Well; I'l suffer all. Say what you will.
What Torrent is't hurries my Passions thus?
Here, hold my Sword — — Give me't again — — I am
Of Merits far too light to ballance hers;
She will refuse me sure — — Pray y' leave me Sirs — —
Yet now I think on't don't — — How every Limb
Presents a Goddess! every part a Day
Darkning the neighbour Jewell! — — Let me have
Some Musick Prusias — — Prethee Cleodemus
Suffer not any to disturb my thoughts;
I would be quiet — — What a sacred vigor
Dwels in each sprightfull Parcell! — — Low Misander ,
A shadow can thy larger Thoughts confine;
Hiding a Power that's Tyrant over thine.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.