Enter Arcabon conducting Constantius, her Garments loose
and Hair dishevel'd, seeming frantick.
Arcab. This, Roman, is the Place: 'Tis Magick Ground,
Hid by Enchantment, by Enchantment found.
Behold 'em at our View dissolv'd in Fear;
Two Armies, are two Lowers in Despair.
Proceed, be bold, and scorning to entreat;
Think all her Strugglings feign'd, her Cries Deceit.
Not creeping like a Cur that fawns to please,
Nor whine, nor beg—but like a Lyon seize:
Kill him, and ravish her: For so wou'd I,
Were I a Man; or rather let both die.
The Rape may please
Each was disdain'd; to equal Rage resign
Thy Heart, and let it burn and blaze like mine.
'Tis sweet to love, but when with Scorn we meet,
Revenge supplies the Loss, with Joys as great.
A Chariot descends swiftly drawn by Dragons, into which
she enters at the following Lines.
Up to th' etherial Heav'ns where Gods reside,
Lo! thus I fly to thunder on thy side,
[Thunder. The Chariot mounts in the Air, and vanishes
with her.
Con. Fly where thou wilt, but not to blest Abodes,
For know, where-e'er thou art, there are no Gods.
