University of Virginia Library

Scena 3.

Hegio
solus.
But sure I was not borne Minerva-like?
Nor did fond Paracelsus teach my Sire
To make a man without conjunction,
What furious madnesse did possesse my brest
To flout at love? and wrong the femal sex?
And to requite in a sharpe Satyrs straine,
The roundelayes, and charming lullabies,
That my indulgent genetrix did warble?
What are my braines grown dry, or my bloud cold?
Or am I on a sudden waxen old?
I thought, though Cupids aire-deviding shaft,
Soone penetrated the well tempered
Corsset: which the hot-halting god of fire,
Made for his boysterous rivall, it should not find,
Or make a way to vulnerate my mind.
And therefore Venus I blaspem'd thy sonne,
But now I sing a Palinodia.
Alas I have beheld that lovely face
That from her eyes shot Cupids into mine,
T'abuse my sight, and worke upon my frailty,
With their smooth oratory to undoe me,
Among thy other trophies let me be,
Kind Cupid, Hertan Porrigo to thee,
Me thinks soft love hath lately made a breach
Into the batter'd bulworks of my breast,
And there commandeth all my yeelding powers,
Which now insulteth in their vassalage.
One looke hath struck my soule into a feaver,
Me thinks affection whispereth in my eare
Faire Daris name, Daris the shepherdesse;
An object beautified with the choice gifts
Of liberall nature, and of vertue too,
My wandring eye hath made my heart receive
So good opinon of the forenam'd Nymph,
And hourely it solliciteth my tongue,
To trie my fortune, and to let it know,
Whether its like in Daris love to rest
In happy blisse, and blissefull happinesse;
Which if deny'd, its suddenly prepared,
To leave my skelliton unto grim death.
But courage Hegio, let not cold despaire
Chill thy greene, and wide-gaping wounds too fast;
She is a woman, and she may be wonne,
Venus Adonis lov'd, why may not she
Prove love-sick too, and at length fancie me:
Shall I be bashfull then, and so expire
With griefe; fie, fie, what shall a womans eye
Prevaile so farre o're me to cause me dye,
And leave my name in the fooles Callender,
And there be noted with a rubie letter,
For a supereminent Festivall;
No, I am loath to leave earth yet, Ile try
If I may live, and find a remedie.

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