Yet, lovely as it is, I quit it all,

For thy dear sake with pleasure do I quit it. Oramont. Yes, Martian, 'tis a wondrous proof of friendship.

O! I've a soul like thine, my friend, ambitious; Like thine it glows with an uncommon ardour,

For glory pants, swells with desire of fame.

Martian. And does your

father

Oramont. Still deaf to my desires,
Austere he frowns on all my fond entreaties;
Tells me it is the error of my youth,

Bids me correct it, check my forward hopes,
And seek for happiness in my peaceful studies.
Vain thought! in seeking happiness I lose it :
Can I be happy with desires unanswer'd,

If I've a wish unsated, unenjoy'd?

Martian. But then your mother lives, but on your sight,

Your father doats on hers.

Oramont. Yes, thus I'm curb'd;

Thus all my hopes are nipp'd ev'n in the bud;
Thus bounded is my prospect of the world.
To please the will of an imperious father,
And soothe the weakness of a doating woman,
Thus am I cag'd, while, like the joyous birds,
I unconfin'd from grove to grove would fly,.
And taste the various fruits that nature yields;
Boldly I'd climb to titles, and to power;

Pow'r!

Pow'r! 'tis the darling attribute of Heav'n!
And only giv'n by Heaven to the brave.
Is it not great, my Martian, is it not,
To dart a blazing lustre all around one,
To be the first distinguish'd of mankind,
Admir'd, caress'd, gaz'd at by gaping crowds,
Who, waiting, smile or tremble at one's nod?
Yet this my father whimsically calls
The food of a depray'd, a sickly fancy,
The idle silly pageantry of fools,

To please weak women, and amuse the vulgar.
This he despises ;-but he first enjoy'd it.

To

Martian. 'Tis the perverseness of decaying age, envy, and deny to vig'rous youth,

Those pleasures which their weakness can't enjoy.
But reasons urge his hatred to the Court;
When, stung with injuries and piercing taunts,
He struck an insolent intruding courtier,
Did not the King, unmindful of his service,
With threats provoke and drive him from his sight?
Did he not cherish the offending brute?

Oramont, And must I, therefore, dream away my life

In sloth, contempt, and in mistaken pleasures?
No, no; my hours in dalliance shall play,
Shall dance in circles and in endless rounds

Of

pomp, of pleasure, gaiety, and love;

The Court, the Court's the sunshine I must bask in.

Martian.

Martian. Then you have seen the Court, I may

conclude.

Oramont. Yes, twice I've disobey'd my father's

orders;

Twice, unobserv'd, unknown, I've stolen to it,
Befriended by our neighbourhood to town.

Martian. And did it please you, Oramont?
Oramont. It did.

Its splendor struck, its pleasure charm'd

my

soul;

Like Venus' court it seem'd, the seat of beauty,
While Venus self, in gay Arderia's form,
Sister to Altimor, the King's chief favourite,
Amid her nymphs shone eminently bright,
Superior look'd, and stood confess'd the goddess.
Igaz'd, was pleas'd, still gaz'd, and still admir'd,
Ten thousand Graces revell'd in her eyes;

Ten thousand little Loves play'd in her smiles,
And fir'd insensibly my unwary heart.
Thou'st seen her?

Martian. Yes.

Oramont. And didst thou not perceive

Tell me, my Martian, didst thou not perceive
The little wanton Cupid in her face

Reigning with glorious pride? Yes, yes, thou must.
There, there he sits, from thence securely wounds ;
Each feature is a magazine of darts;

Her eyebrow is his bow, that's ever bent;
Her eye his sharpest, fatal'st pointed arrow.
Let him no more be wrong-reputed blind,

Since with Arderia's eyes so sure he wounds,
Since he could chuse so fair a seat to dwell in;
There, there he reigns, the cruel sporter reigns,
And smiles to see th' extensive waste he makes.
Martian. She's fair indeed.

Oramont. O! she is wondrous fair!

Martian. But she is wondrous proud: guard well your heart;

She may prove somewhat dang'rous. Do you love her?

Oramont. Love her!-yes, to enjoy her, nothing

farther;

I scorn the childish ague of the soul,

That shakes and trembles; mine's a raging fever, Burns to possess, and when possess'd can quit. From fair to fair I'll rove, possess, enjoy,

And prove Love's various pleasures, shun its pains. Martian. Would you not marry, then, the fair Arderia?

Oramont. Marry!-O yes; to satisfy my glory, To pave my way to honour and to power,

I'd marry.

But my soul is all ambition,

And has not room for such a toy as woman.
Women are but the playthings of an hour;
Too much of them unmans us into trifles
Like themselves.

Martian. But hush! here comes your
And with him, ha! Altimor, as I live;

father

I'll

I'll for a minute leave

you,

Oramont.

[Exit MARTIAN.

Enter BELLARIO and ALTIMOR.

Bellario. Tis generous, and singularly kind, To visit the disgrac'd; my Lord, you're welcome. You're early with the day; d'ye travel far?

Altimor. Only to town; I left my country seat This morning; but my friendship to your lordship Led me awhile to quit the common road, To enquire of your health.

Bellario. My Lord, you're welcome, Most truly so-you'll honour me, I hope, With your continuance for a day or two.

Altimor. No, 'tis impossible.-I must attend
His Majesty this morning to the Council.
You are but four short miles, I think, from town?
Bellario. No more; but yet I live retir'd enough;
No one is fond to visit those in clouds,

Who have not sun enough to warm their hopes.
I have no morning levees, no crouds to watch,
And trouble my repose: that happiness,
That blessing, ev'n the wretched do enjoy-
But pray, my Lord, how does his Majesty?
He must be near my age. Is he still hearty?
Altimor. Still gay and lively as in blooming youth.
Bellario. The Heav'ns continue him so; he is a

good

And ever gracious Prince.

1 Altimor