University of Virginia Library

Scene. 3.

Corisca.
Who euer sawe or heard a straunger, and
A fonder passion of this foolish loue?
Both loue, and hate, in one selfe hart combin'd,
With such a wondrous mixture: as I know not how,
Or which of them hath got the deeper roote.
If I Mirtilloes beautie do behold:
His gracious count'nance, good behauiour,
Actions, customes, words and manly lookes:
Loue me assailes, with such a puissant fire,
That I burne altogither. And it seemes
Other affections are quite vanquished with this.
But when I thinke vpon th'obstinate loue
He to another beares; and that for her
He doth despise (I will be bold to say)
My famous beautie of a thousand soft:
I hate him so, I so abhorre the man,
That t's impossible me thinkes at all,
One sparke of loue for him should touch my heart.
Thus with my selfe sometime I say: Oh if I could
Enioy my sweet Mirtillo! were he mine,
And had not others interest in him,
Oh more then any other happie Corisca.
And then in me vpflames such great good will,
And such a gentle loue to him; that I resolue
Straight to discouer all my hart to him,
To follow him, and humbly sue to him:
Nay more, eu'n to fall downe and worship him.
On th'other side, I all reclaimed say,
A nice proud foole? one that disdaineth me?
One that can loue another and despise my selfe?
One that can looke on me and not adore me?
One that can so defend him from my looke,
That he dies not for loue. And I that should
See him (as I haue many more ere this)
An humble suppliant before my feete,
Am humble suppliant at his feete my selfe.
Then such a rage at him possesseth mee,
That I disdain my thoughts should think on him,
Mine eyes should looke on him. His verie name
And all my loue, I worse then death do hate.
Then would I haue him the wofulst wight aliue:
And with these hands then could I kill the wretch.
Thus hate, and loue, spight, and desire make warre.
I that haue bene till now tormenting flame,
To thousand harts: must languish now my selfe,
And in my ill, know others wretchednesse.
I that so many yeares in cities, streets, courts,
Haue bene inuincible to worthy friends,
Mocking their many hopes, their great desires:
Now conquered am, with silly rusticke loue,
Of a base shepheards brat. Oh aboue all
Wretched Corisca now. What shall I do
To mitigate this amorous furious rage?
Whilst other women haue a heape of loues,
I haue no other but Mirtillo onely.
Am I not stoutly furnished? Oh thousand times,
Ill-counsell'd foole! that now reduced art
Into the pouertie of one sole loue:
Corisca was ne're such a foole before.
What's faith? what's constancy? but fables fain'd
By iealous men: and names of vanitie,
Simple women to deceiue. Faith in a womans hart,
(If faith in any womans hart there bee:)
Can neither vertue nor yet goodnesse bee.
But hard necessitie of loue, a wretched law
Of beautie weake that pleaseth onely one,
Because she is not gracious in the eyes of more.
A beautious Nymphe, sought too by multitudes
Of worthy louers, if she be content
With onely one, and all the rest despise,
Either she is no woman, or if so she be,
She is a foole. What's beautie worth vnseene?
Or seene, vnsought? or sought too but of one?
The more our louers be, the greater men,
The surer pledge haue we in this vild world.
That we are creatures glorious and rare,
The goodly splendor of a beautious Nymphe,
Is to haue many friends. So in good Townes
Wise men euer doo. It is a fault,
A foolish tricke, all to refuse for one.
What one cannot, many can well performe:
Some serue, some giue, some fit for other vse.
So in the Citie louely Ladies do,
Where I by wit, and by example too,
Of a great Lady learnd the Art of loue.
Corisca would she say. Let thy
Louers and thy garments be alike.
Haue many, vse, weare but one, and change often.
Too much conuersing breedeth noysomenesse,
And noysomenesse despight, which turnes to hate:
We cannot worser do, then fill our friends,
Let them go hungry rather from thee still.
So did I alwaies, alwaies louing store,
One for my hand, an other for mine eye:
The best I euer for my bosome kept,
None for my heart, as neare as ere I could.
And now I know not how Mirtillo comes
Me to torment, now must I sigh, and worse
Sigh for my selfe, deceiuing no man else.
Now must I robbe my limmes of their repose,
Mine eyes of sleepe, and watch the breake of day:
Now do I wander through these shadow'd woods,
Seeking the footsteps of my hated loue.
What must Corisca do? shall I entreat him?
No: my hate not giues me leaue. Ile giue him o're,
Nor will my loue consent. What shall I do?
Prayers and subtilties I will attempt:
I will bewray my loue, but not as mine,
If this preuaile not, then Ile make disdaine
Finde out a memorable huge reuenge.
Mirtillo if thou canst not like my loue,
Then shalt thou trie my hate. And Amarillis,
Thou shalt repent thou er'e my riuall wer't.
Well, to your costs you both shall quickly proue,
What rage in her can do that thus doth loue.