ed madding thought,
Till the form wastes, and with the form the heart
Is warped from right to wrong, and can forget
All that it loved before, faith, duty, country,
Friendship, affection--everything but love.
Seek not to know it, dear; or, knowing it,
Be happier than I.

_Gycia._ My poor Irene!
Then, 'tis indeed a misery to love.
I do repent that I have tortured thee
By such unthinking jests. Forgive me, dear,
I will speak no more of it; with me thy secret
Is safe as with a sister. Shouldst thou wish
To unburden to me thy unhappy heart,
If haply I might bring thy love to thee.
Thou shalt his name divulge and quality,
And I will do my best.

_Ire._ Never, dear Gycia.
Forget my weakness; 'twas a passing folly,
I love a man who loves me not again,
And that is very hell. I would die sooner
Than breathe his name to thee. Farewell, dear lady!
Thou canst not aid me.

[_Exit_ IRENE.

_Gycia._ Hapless girl! Praise Heaven
That I am fancy-free!

_Enter_ LAMACHUS.

_Lama._ My dearest daughter, why this solemn aspect?
I have glad news for thee. Thou knowest of old
The weary jealousies, the bloody feuds,
Which 'twixt our Cherson and her neighbour City
Have raged ere I was born--nay, ere my grandsire
First saw the light of heaven. Both our States
Are crippled by this brainless enmity.
And now the Empire, now the Scythian, threatens
Destruction to our Cities, whom, united,
We might defy with scorn. Seeing this weakness,
Thy father, wishful, ere his race be run,
To save our much-loved Cherson, sent of late
Politic envoys to our former foe,
And now--i' faith, I am not so old, 'twould seem
That I have lost my state-craft--comes a message.
The Prince Asander, heir of Bosphorus,
Touches our shores to-day, and presently
Will be with us.

_Gycia._ Oh, father, is it wise?
Do fire and water mingle? Does the hawk
Mate with the dove; the tiger with the lamb;
The tyrant with the peaceful commonwealth;
Fair commerce with the unfruitful works of war?
What union can there be 'twixt our fair city
And this half-barbarous race? 'Twere against nature
To bid these opposite elements combine--
The Greek with the Cimmerian. Father, pray you,
Send them away, with honour if you please,
And soothing words and gifts--only, I pray you,
Send them away, this Prince who doth despis