University of Virginia Library

Scena 5.

Enter Medorus.
Medo.
So, you'l all please her,
I wonder who'l please mee? you all for her
Can run on errants, carry love-sick letters,
And amorous eglogues from her howling suiters,
To her, and back againe, be Cupids Heraulds,
And point out meetings for her.

Dor.
Truly Sir,
Not I, pray aske my Mistresse: Doe I call
Your sweet-hearts—speak, nay speak it if you can
Doe I?

Lau.
Why no.

Do.
Nay say your worst I care not,
Did I goe ever?

Lau.
Never.

Dor.
La-you now!
We were devising nothing but a snare
To catch the Pole-cat,
Sirrah get you in;
Take heed I doe not find your haunts.

Dor.
What haunts?

Med.
You'l in!

Dor.
I know no haunts I have but to the Dairy,
To skimme the milke-bowles like a lickorish Fairy.

Exit Dor.
Me.
He that's a womans keeper, should have eyes
A hundred more then Argus, and his eares
Double the number: Now the newes, what letters?
What posy, ring or bracelet wooes to day?
What Grove to night is conscious of your whispers?
Come tell mee, for I know your trusty squire,
Your litle closet blabbes into your eare
Some secret, let me know it.

Lau.
Then you feare,
Least I should be in love.

Me.
Indeed I doe,
Cupids a dangerous boy, and often wounds
The wanton roving eye.

Lau.
Were I in love,
Not that I am (for yet by Dian's bow
I have not made my choice,) and yet suppose it,
Suppose I say I were in love, What then?

Me.
So I would have thee, but not yet my Girle,
Till loves prove happier, till the wretched Claius
Hath satisfied the Gods.

Lau.
Why Claius, Father?

Me.
Hast thou not heard it?

Lau.
Never.

Me.
Tis impossible.

Lau.
How should I sir? you know that my discourse
Is all with walls and pictures, I nere meet
The Virgins on the downes.

Me.
Why I will tell thee,
Thou knowest Pilumnus?

Lau.
The high Priest of Ceres?

Me.
Yes: This Pilumnus had a sonne Philæbus,
Who was, while yet he was, the only joy
The staffe and comfort of his fathers age,
And might have still beene so, had not fond love
Vndone him.

Lau.
How did love undoe Philæbus?

Me.
Why thus; one Lalage, a beauteous Nymph
As ever eye admired, Alphestus daughter,
Was by her father promis'd him in marriage.

Lau.
Why hitherto his love had good successe.

Me.
But only promis'd: for the sheapherd Claius,
(A name accursed in Sicilian fields!)
Being rich, obtain'd the beauteous Lalage
From sweet Philæbus: he sad heart being rob'd,
Of all his comfort, having lost the beauty
Which gave him life and motion, seeing Claius
Injoy those lips, whose cherries were the food
That nurs'd his soule, spent all his time in sorrow,
In melancholy sighes and discontents;
Look'd like a witherd tree oregrowne with mosse,
His eyes were ever dropping Iceacles.
Disdaine and sorrow made Pilumnus rage,
And in this rage, he makes his moane to Ceres,
(Ceres most sacred of Sicilian powers;)
And in those moanes he prosecutes revenge,
And that revenge to fall on Lalage.

Lau.
Would Ceres heare his praiers?

Me.
Silly maid,
His passions were not causelesse; and with what justice
Could she deny Pilumnus? how oft hath he sprinkled,
The finest flowre of wheat, and sweetest myrrhe
Vpon her Altars! Lalage ru'd the time
She flowted brave Philæbus. Now she was great
With two sweet twins, the faire chast Amaryllis,
And mad Amyntas; (an unlucky paire!)
These shee brought forth, but never liv'd to see them:
Lucina caus'd her sorrowes stop her breath.
Leaving this matchlesse paire of beauteous infants,
In whom till now she lives.

Lau.
After her death,
How far'd the sorrowfull Philæbus?

Me.
Worse
Then ever: Shee being dead whose life was his,
Whose lookes did hold his eyes from shutting up,
He pin'd away in sorrowes, griefe it was
To see she was not his, but greater farre
That she was not at all. Her Exequies being past,
He casts him down upon that turfe of earth,
Vnder whose roofe his Lalage was hous'd,
And parlied with her ashes, 'till his own lampe
Was quite extinguish'd with a fatall dampe.
Here ended th'noble sheapheard.

Lau.
Vnhappy lover!
Tis pitty but the Virgins once a yeare,
Should wash his tombe with maiden teares! but now
Both Lalage being dead and her Philebus,
How comes it other loves should prove unfortunate?

Med.
Pilumnus having lost this hopefull Sonne,
Though he had two more children, fair Vrania
And noble Damon; yet the death of Lalage
Suffic'd not his revenge, but he anew implores
His goddesse wrath 'gainst Claius:—Doth Ceres prize me thus?
Shall Claius tread upon the flowry Plaine,
And walke upon the Ashes of my boy?
Will I be Archyflamen where the Gods
Are so remisse? let wolves approach their shrines;
Their howlings are as powerfull as the Praiers
Of sad Pilumnus!—Such disgusts at last
Awaken'd Ceres: with hollow murmuring noise
Her Ompha like a thunder 'gins to roare.
(The Ompha if it menace speakes at large
In copious language, but perplexed termes.)
And laid this curse on all Trinacria.
Sicilian swaines, ill luck shall long betide
To every bridegroome, and to every bride:
No sacrifice, no vow shall still mine Ire,
Till Claius blood both quench and kindle fire.
The wise shall misconceive me, and the wit
Scornd, and neglected shall my meaning hit.

Lau.
Angry and Intricate! Alas for love!
What then became of Claius?

Me.
Why the Ompha,
Having denounc'd against him, and he knowing
The hate of old Pilumnus fled away,
I think hee's sayl'd to the Antipodes.
No tydings can be brought what ground receives him,
Vnlesse Corymbus make a happy voyage.
Corymbus that will search both East and Occident
And when he finds him spill his captive blood.
Which Ceres grant he may! Tender Laurinda
Now dost thou see the reason of my care,
And why my watchfull eyes so close observe
Thy steps and actions.

Lau.
And I promise, father,
To temper my affections, 'till the Goddesse
Doe mitigate her anger.

Med.
Doe so then:
For now you see with what unfortunate choice
Pilumnus daughter, delicate Vrania loves
The mad Amyntas: for the angry Goddesse,
Though she repaid the wrong done to Philæbus,
Yet not approving the reuengefull mind
Of great Pilumnus, scourg'd him with his own asking,
By threatning an unhappy marriage
To his Vrania, unlesse he that wooes her
Pay an impossible Dowry; for as others
Give Portions with their daughters, Ceres Priests
Vse to receive for theirs. The words are these,
That which thou hast not, mayst not, canst not have
Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave.
Rest hopelesse in thy love, or else divine
To give Vrania this, and she is thine:
Which while the poore Amyntas would Interpret,
He lost his wits. Take heed of love, Laurinda,
You see th'unhappinesse of it in others;
Let not experience in thy selfe instruct thee.
Be wise my Girle; so come and follow me.

Exit.
Lau.
I'le make a Garland for my kid and follow you.
What a sad tale was here? how full of sorrow?
Happy that heart that never felt the shaft
Of angry Cupid!