Poems by the most deservedly admired Mrs. Katherine Philips, the matchless Orinda ; to which is added Monsieur Corneille's Pompey & Horace, tragedies ; with several other translations out of French.

SCEN. I.

Sabina and Julia.

SABINA.

EXcuse my weakness, and my grief permit In that distress, which so much merits it: When such a storm does its approaches make, It may become the strongest heart to shake; And Constancy will now admit dispute, Ev'n in the Breast that is most resolute: But yet how rude so'ere the shock appears, Though not my Sighs, I can command my Tears; Though so much sorrow may my heart surprize, Yet Vertue still is regent in my Eyes: If to my heart, I can confine my woe, Though less than Man, I more than Woman do. To stop my tears in an assault so rough, For our weak Sex will sure be brave enough.

JULIA.

It is for vulgar Souls I must confess, Who create grief from every slight distress; But a great Heart would blush at that defect, And all things dares from doubtful Fate expect: Under our Walls two Armies we survey, But Rome ne're yet knew how to lose the day; Applause, not grief, we to her Fortune owe, Who whilst she fights must needs the mightier grow. Then let vain terrours from your breast depart, And find out Vows worthy a Roman heart.

SABINA.

My heart I gave to Horace, and 'tis true, Since he's a Roman, I must be so too: But yet that Knot a Fetter would be thought, If my dear Country should be quite forgot. Alba where I began to see the light, Alba my native place, and first delight, When I behold a War 'twixt us and thee, As much as loss, I dread a Victory: Rome if by this thy anger I create, Find out a Foe whom I may justly hate; When at thy Walls two Armies in thy sight, Shew me my Brothers with my Husband sight, What Prayers can I make? how can I be Without impiety concern'd for thee? I know thy growing Empire, yet so young, By War alone must make her sinews strong; Thy future grandeur is by Fate design'd, Not to the Latines to be long confin'd: The gods the suppliant World for thee intend, And 'tis by Arms thou must attain that end: Far from repining at that noble heat Which serves thy Stars, and helps to make thee great; I wish thy Troops may still new Triumphs claim, And over-run Pyrenian Hills to Fame. Go, Eastern Conquests for thy Sword design, And settle thy Pavillions in the Rhine; Let all Lands tremble where thy Ensigns go, But her to whom thou Romulus dost owe; Subdue the utmost Regions of the Earth, But spare the Town where Romulus had birth; Forget not her from whom thy City draws, Her Name, and all her strength, but Walls and Laws: Alba's thy Parent, let that thought arrest Thy greedy Sword, nor pierce thy Mother's breast, For thy triumphant Arms make other choice, And in her Children's Fortune shee'll rejoice, Nay, would with natural concern disown

All Enemies of thine, were she not one.

JULIA.

This Language much surprize to me affords, For since these Cities first unsheath'd their Swords, You have so unconcern'd for Alba stood, As if your birth had been of Roman blood; I wonder'd at a Vertue so refin'd, Which to your Husband, Alba had resign'd, And therefore so proportion'd my relief, As if our Rome alone had caus'd your grief.

SABINA.

Whilst such a shock my reason did assail, As was too weak to weigh down either Scale; Till all my flattering hopes of Peace were lost, To be entirely Roman was my boast. If at Rome's Fortune I displeas'd have been, I quickly chid that mutiny within: And when her destiny was not so kind, If, for my Brothers, joy seduc'd my mind, By Reason's help that motion I suppress'd, And wept for all the glory they possess'd. But now these Cities must be lost or sav'd, That Rome must sink, or Alba be enslav'd; And after battel there no hope remains To the subdu'd, nor stop to her that gains: I should too barbarously my Country treat, If I could be a perfect Roman yet. A little less to one man's love resign'd, To neither City I will be confin'd; I fear for both, and whilst their Fate is try'd, I still will be on the afflicted side; Equal to each, whilst they unequal are, And must their Crief, but not their Glory share. For I resolve in such a sharp debate, To mourn the Conquer'd, and the Victor hate.

JULIA.

How oft does Fortune with an equal blow, On different Souls different effects bestow!

How distant is Camilla's way from this? Your Brother loves her, her's your Husband is, Yet in each Army with another eye, She can a Lover and a Brother spie: When in Rome's Fortunes you were most involv'd, She was as much confus'd and unresolv'd: She feard the storm from every cloud would spread, And the success of either side did dread: The most unfortunate she did bemoan, And whosoe're prevail'd she was undone. But when the day, she knew, was drawing nigh, And one great Battel should the Quarrel try, A sudden gladness breaking from her brow—

SABINA.

Ah Julia! how that joy allarms me now, Valerius yesterday she smil'd upon, And for his sake, she Curtius will disown; A nearer Object snatches her esteem, And two years absence hath deformed him! But though my Brother be to me so dear, By care of him, I must not injure her; My groundless jealousie concludes amiss, Who can change love at such a time as this? How can a heart, receive a wound that's new, When such great shocks give it so much to do? Yet from joy too, this fatal day deters, And from contentments which resemble hers.

JULIA.

In me it equal wonder does produce, Nor do I know what can be her excuse; 'Tis Constancy enough, if we can wait Without impatience so severe a Fate, But 'tis too much, if we shall chearful grow.

SABINA.

See some good Genius sends her hither now, Her thoughts on this, engage her to reveal, From you her Friendship nothing can conceal; I'le leave you—Sister talk with Julia now,

For I'm asham'd my weakness to avow; And so much sorrow does my heart invade, That I must hide it in some secret shade.

Exit.