Cyp. She's gone, my Philocles: and as she goes, even so
The sun forsakes the heavens to kiss the sea;
Day in her beauty leaves us, and me thinks
Her absence doth exile all happiness.
Tell me, my Philocles, nay, prythee,
Tell me true, even from that love
Which to us both should blend one sympathy,
Discharge an open breast: dost thou not think
She is the mirror of her beauteous sex,
Unparallel'd and uncompanioned?
Phil. Envy will say she's rare; then truth must vow
She is beyond compare, sith in her looks
Each motion hath a speaking majesty;
She is herself compared with herself:
For, but herself, she hath no companion.[137]
But when I think of beauty, wit and grace,
The elements of native[138] delicacy,
Those all-eye-pleasing harmonies of sight,
Which do enchant men's fancies, and stir up
The life-blood of dull earth—O, then methinks
Fair Mariana hath an equal place,
And if not outshine, shows[139] more beautiful.
Cyp. More than my queen?
Phil. More in the gloss of beauty; less in worth,
In wisdom and great thoughts: the one I find
Was made for wonder, the other for admire.
Cyp. Thine equal praises make my fancies rich:
And I am pleas'd with thy comparisons;
Things of like nature live in best concent,
Beauty with subjects, majesty with kings.
Then let those two ideas lively move
Spirit beyond all spirit in our breasts,
That in the end of our great victory
We may attain both love and majesty.
Phil. Although my first creation and my birth,
My thoughts and other tempers of my soul,
Took all their noble beings from the sword,
And made me only for the use of wars;
Yet in this combat, something (methinks) appears,
Greater than the greatest glory, and doth raise
My mind beyond herself:
'Sfoot, methinks Cæsar's Pharsalia,
Nor Scipio's Carthage, nor Emilius' acts,
Were worthy chairs of triumph: they o'er men's
Poor mangled bodies, and fire-wasted climes,
Made their triumphant passage; but we two
Must conquer thoughts and love more than the gods can do.
Cyp. True, and therein
Consists the glorious garland of our praise—
But we neglect th' affairs of preparation.
Florio, be it your charge
To see th' erection of the squared lists,
Fit ground for either army, and what else
Belongs unto such royal eminence.
Flo. How near will your majesty have[140] the lists extend
Unto the city walls?
Cyp. So as the dullest eye
May see the heedfull'st passage in the fight.
Flo. What square or circuit?