ELLEN WAREHAM.
Reading edition
Calantha.—Away, away, call not such passion love! A man so loves his horse, his hound, his hawk, For that these things to’s pleasure minister; He’s proud to boast such peerless beauty his— Does gloat upon it—would have others gaze, And pine with envy. What’s this but self-love? Now mark, Antenor! He who loves indeed, With his whole soul! His study but to honour His lady’s name an hundred thousand ways! His sole joy, her contentment; and sole sorrow, Her disquiet. He with true devotion Approaches her, as something pure and holy, His bright incentive to high deeds. The beacon To light his path to virtue and to fame! Old Manuscript Play.