Act 4 — [ACT IV., SCENE 2.]

Eug. May the gods give you, madam, a content As high as you have power to bestow On those you favour, and then your happiness Will be as great as is your beauty. Her. O my best lord! you now behold a face Too much acquainted with my sad heart's grief Not to be stain'd with't. Sure, you cannot Know it?—I pray, say you do not—you'll wrong Two things I am most proud of—my just grief And your young love—which could not grow, Nourish'd with such poor heat as now it gives. I have a story that will break your heart When you have heard it, and mine, ere I Deliver it. Prince Lysicles to-morrow marries me, Or I must leave my duty or my life. Forgive me, that I dare to utter this. Eug. Madam, forbear your tears: they are a ransom Too mighty to redeem the greatest faith The gods were ever witness to. I know Whereto you tend: you would have me untie The knot that bound our loves, and I will do't, Though it be fasten'd to my strings of life. Be happy in your choice: give to his merit What once you promis'd to my perfect love, By which I only did pretend my claim. I do release you, as I know heaven has; Who in his justice cannot have consented To a longer faith in you; you must not be The conquest of a miserable man, O'er whom their cruel'st influences reign. Her. Some saving power close up my drowned eyes, Which death had long since shut, had not the love And hope of seeing you preserv'd them open. Have I been false for this to all my friends? That you should think I can be so to you? Add not By your suspicions a crime to our misfortune. Eug. Of you I can have none, but what excuse you: You had made me miserable, had not your faith Yielded to those assaults; as worth and greatness Titles your father's rage; and your own judgment Did shake and raze it. With what disturbed mind Should I have look'd on you my heart ador'd, And love made miserable? Still you weep—— But these are tears your fortune did lay up To ease your misery, had you continued mine. And your suns, clear'd from their last clouds, They will more freely shine on your Lysicles. For myself, my love in his last act shall recompense The injuries 't has done to your repose, By killing me; then must injustice fly, And hale inconstancy along with her, From your fair conquer'd soul they now possess? Her. O my griefs! Now I perceive the gods decreed you endless, Since they have made him add unto my torment, Whose memory before did make the sharpest glorious. Tears and sighs and groans, farewell. They ne'er were spent but when I fear'd for you; And, you being lost, I have no use of them. Here, take this paper: 'tis the last legacy My love shall ever give you: 'twas design'd When I conceived you worthy. If you Believe her words, whose faith was never lost, though you Ungratefully have flung it off. If so you be not That you accuse me for, you there shall find A story that will punish your suspicion.

Eug. You that by powerful prayers have diverted An imminent ruin, inspire me with fit words To appease my injur'd mistress. Hear me: I do not kneel for mercy, but to beg Your leave to die: I must not live, when Pardons make my offence most horrible, and hell Is here without them; take a middle way If you incline to mercy, and forget me. Her. Rise; this is worse than your doubts were. Eug.[362] Turn not your face away; would you revenge? Then let my eyes dwell on't. What punishment Can there be greater than for me to see The beauty I have lost by my own fault? Look then upon me. Her. No, I must yet keep My anger to preserve my honour, and I dare not trust That and my eyes at once, if they behold you. Eug. Then hear a wretched man, that has outliv'd So much his hopes, he knows not what to wish— Whether to live or die; yet life for this I only seek, that you may find I shrink not To punish him your justice has condemn'd. Her. Rise, I can hold out no longer; the bare Sounds of your death dissolve my resolutions; Forget my anger, as I will the cause. Eug. Never; it shall live here to honour me, Since pity of my love made you decline it: But must—— Her. Yes, the virtuous Lysicles—for his respects to me, Howe'er unhappy, challenged that name— In your absence labours to marry me: yet death—— Eug. Wretched Eugenio! did thy coward fate Not dare to strike thee, till thou turn'dst thy back? Must I return from banishment to find My hopes are banish'd? Did I for this love virtue, Pursued her rugged paths, when danger made Her horrid to the valiant to be ruin'd By him that is most virtuous? Ye gods, Was envy, malice, fortune impotent To injure me, but you must raise up virtue to suppress Me? If I suffer it, I shall deserve it. Her. O my Eugenio! we are miserable, Yet must not quarrel, love, to take or give A seeming comfort: go, try all your power Of hate or friendship to undo this match; I'll give you leave to die first—anything, But let not me have so much leave to change, As to believe you think it possible. [Exeunt.