Pan. We know the world, and did we know no more,
We would not live to know; but since constraint
Of holy bands forceth us keep this lodge
Of dirt’s corruption, till dread power calls
Our soul’s appearance, we will live enclosed 150
In holy verge of some religious order,
Most constant votaries.
[The curtains are drawn, Piero departeth.
Ant. First let’s cleanse our hands,
Purge hearts of hatred, and entomb my love,
Over whose hearse I’ll weep away my brain
In true affection’s tears.
For her sake here I vow a virgin bed:
She lives in me, with her my love is dead.
2d Sen. We will attend her mournful exequies;
Conduct you to your calm sequestered life,
And then—— 160
Mar. Leave us to meditate on misery,
To sad our thought with contemplation
Of past calamities. If any ask
Where lives the widow of the poison’d lord?
Where lies the orphant of a murder’d father?
Where lies the father of a butcher’d son?
Where lives all woe?—conduct him to us three,
The down-cast ruins of calamity.
Ant.[323] Sound doleful tunes, a solemn hymn advance,
To close the last act of my vengeance; 170
And when the subject of your passion’s spent,
Sing Mellida is dead; all hearts will relent,
In sad condolement at that heavy sound.
Never more woe in lesser plot was found!
And, O, if ever time create a muse,
That to th’ immortal fame of virgin faith
Dares once engage his pen to write her death,
Presenting it in some black tragedy,
May it prove gracious; may his style be deck’d
With freshest blooms of purest elegance;
May it have gentle presence, and the scenes suck’d up
By calm attention of choice audience; 181
And when the closing Epilogue appears,
Instead of claps, may it obtain but tears.
[A song.—Exeunt omnes.