University of Virginia Library

Actus V.

Scæna I.

Enter Alupis, Palæmon, Ægon.
Pa.
The Gods convert these omens into good:
And mocke my feares; thrice in the very threshold,
Without its Masters leave my foot stood still,
Thrice in the way it stumbled:

Al.
Thrice, and thrice
You were a foole then for observing it.
Why these are follyes the young yeares of Truga
Did hardly know; are they not vanisht yet?

Pa.
Blame not my feare: that's Cupids Vsher alwayes;
Though Hylace were now in my embraces,
I should halfe doubt it.

Al.
If you chanc'd to stumble.

Æg.
Let him enjoy his madnesse, the same liberty
hee'le grant to you, when you're a Lover too.

Al.
I, when I am, he may; yet if I were one
I should not be dismay'd because the threshold—

Pa.
Alas! that was not all, as I came by
The oake to Faunus sacred, where the shepheards
Exercise rurall sports on Festivalls,
On that trees toppe an inauspicious Crow
Foretold some ill to happen.

Æg.
And because Crowes
Foretell wet weather, you interpret it
The raine of your owne eyes; but leave these tricks
And let me advise you.

Melarnus speaking to Hylace within his dore.
Mel.
Well come, no matter for that; I doe beleeve thee; Girle
And would they have such sport with vexing me!
But's no matter for that; Ile vex them for't,
I know your fiery lover will be here strait,
But I shall coole him; but come, no matter for that!
Goe get you in, for I doe see them comming.

Æg.
Here comes Melarnus.

Pa.
Hee lookes cheerefully, I hope all's well?

Æg.
Melarnus, opportunely: we were a comming
Just now unto you.

Mel.
Yes, very likely; would you have spoken with me?

Æg.
Spoken with you?
Why, are you madde? have you forgot your promise?

Mel.
My promise? oh! 'tis true, I said indeed
I would goe with you to day to sell some kine,
Stay but a little, Ile be ready streight.

Pa.
I am amaz'd; Good Ægon speake to him.

Al.
By this good light,
I see no likelyhood of any mariage,
Except betwixt the Kine and oxen. Harke you hither;
A rotte upon your beasts; is Hylace ready?

Mel.
It's no matter for that! who's there? Alupis?
Give me thy hand 'faith, thou'rt a merry fellow,
I have not seene thee here these many dayes,
But now I thinke on't, it's no matter for that neither.

Al.
Thy memory's fled away sure with thy wit.
Was not I here lesse then an houre agoe
With Ægon, when you made the match?

Mel.
Oh! then you'le goe along with us,
Faith doe; for you will make us very merry.

Al.
I shall, if you thus make a foole of me.

Mel.
Oh no! you'le make you sport with vexing me,
But mum; no matter for that neither: there
I bob'd him privatly, I thinke.

Aside.
Æg.
Come, what's the businesse?

Al.
The businesse? why hee's madde, beyond the cure
Of all the herbes grow in Anticyra.

Æg.
You see we have not fayl'd our word Melarnus,
I and my sonne are come.

Mel.
Your son! goodlack!
I thought, I sweare, you had no other child
Besides your Daughter Bellula.

Æg.
Nay, then
I see you are dispos'd to make us fooles,—
Did not I tell you that 'twas my intent
To adopt Palæmon for my son and heire?

Al.
Did not you examine
Whether he would leave him all, lest that he should
Adopt some other heire to the cheese-presses,
The milking-pailes, and creame-boules? did you not?

Mel.
In troth 'tis well; but where is Bellula?

Ægon.
Nay; prithee leave these tricks, and tell me
What you intend, is Hylace ready?

Mel.
Ready? what else? shee's to be married presently:
To a young shepheard, but's no matter for that.

Pa.
That's I, hence feares;
Attend upon the infancie of love,
She's now mine owne.

Al.
Why I; did not the crow on the oake foretell you this?

Mel.
Hylace, Haylace, come forth,
Here's some are come to dance at your wedding,
And they're welcome.

(Enter Hylace.)
Pa.
The light appeares, just like the rising Sun,
When o're yon hill it peepes, and with a draught
Of morning dew salutes the day, how fast
The night of all my sorrow flyes away,
Quite banisht with her sight!

Hy.
Did you call for me?

Mel.
Is Damœtas come? Fy, how slow he is
At such a time? but it's no matter for that;
Well get you in, and prepare to welcome him.

Pa.
Will you be gone so quickly, ôh! bright Hylace
That blessed houre by me so often begg'd,
By you so oft deny'd, is now approaching.

Mel.
What, how now? what doe you kisse her?
(Exit Hylace.)
Jf Damœtas were here, he would grow jealous,
But 'tis parting kisse, and so in manners
She cannot deny it you; but it's no matter for that.

Al.
How?

Mel.
What doe you wonder at?
Why doe you thinke as soone as they are maried,
Damœtas such a foole, to let his wife
Be kist by every body?

Pa.
How now? Damœtas?
Why what hath he to doe with her?

Mel.
Ha, ha!
What hath the husband then to doe with's wife?
Good: 'tis no matter for that though; he knowes what.

Æg.
You meane Palæmon sure, ha, doe you not?

Mel.
'Tis no matter for that, what I meane, I meane,
Well, rest ye merry gentlemen, I must in,
And see my Daughters wedding, if you please
To dance with us; Damætas sure will thanke yee;
Pray bring your son and heire Palæmon with you,
Bellula's cast away, ha, ha, ha, ha!
And the poore foole Melarnus, must be cheated,
But it's no matter for that; how now Alupis?
I thought you would have had most excellent sport
With abusing poore Melarnus? that same coxcombe,
For hee's a foole; but it's no matter for that,
Ægon hath cheated him, Palæmon is
Maried to Hylace, and one Alupis
Doth nothing else but vex him, ha, ha, ha!
But it's no matter for that; farewell gentles,
Or if yee'le come and dance, yee shall be welcome,
Will you Palæmon? 'tis your Mistris wedding.
I am a foole, a coxcombe, gull'd on every side,
No matter for that though; what I have done, I have done?
Ha, ha, ha!

Exit.
Æg.
How now? what are you both dumbe? both thunder-strooke?
This was your plot Alupis.

Al.
I'le begin.
May his sheepe rotte, and he for want of food
Be forc't to eat them then; may every man
Abuse him, and yet he not have the wit
To abuse any man, may he never speake
More sence then he did now; and may he never
Bee ridde of his old wife Truga, may his sonne
In Law be a more famous Cuckold made
Then any one I knew when I liv'd in the City.

Pa.
Foole as thou art, the Sun shall lose his course,
And brightnesse too, ere Hylace her chastity.
Oh no! yee Gods, may she be happy alwayes,
Happy in the embraces of Damœtas;
And that shall be some comfort to my Ghost
When I am dead; and dead I shall be shortly.

Al.
May a disease seize upon all his Cattle,
And a farre worse on him; till he at last
Bee carried to some Hospitall i'the City,
And there kill'd by a Chirurgion for experience.
And when hee's gone, Ile wish this good thing for him,
May the earth lye gently on him—that the dogges
May teare him up the easier.

Æg.
A curse upon thee!
And upon me for trusting thy fond counsels!
Was this your cunning trick? why thou hast wounded
My conscience and my reputation too,
With what face can I looke on the other Swaines?
Or who will ever trust me, who have broke
My faith thus openly?

Pa.
A curse upon thee,
This is the second time that thy perswasions
Made me not only foole, but wicked too;
I should have dyed in quiet else, and knowne
No other wound, but that of her denyall;
Go now, and bragge how thou hast us'd Palæmon,
But yet me thinkes you might have chose some other
For subject of your mirth, not me.

Æg.
Nor me.

Al.
And yet if this had prospered (as I wonder
Who'st should be, betray'd us, since we three
And Truga only knew it, whom, if she
Betray'd us, I—) if this, I say, had prospered,
You would have hugg'd me for inventing it,
And him for putting it in act; foolish men
That doe not marke the thing but the event!
Your judgements hang on Fortune, not on reason.

Æg.
Dost thou upbraid us too?

Pa.
First make us wretched,
And then laugh at us? beleeve, Alupis,
Thou shalt not long have cause to boast thy villany.

Al.
My villany? doe what yee can: you're fooles,
And there's an end; Ile talke with you no more,
I had as good speake reason to the wind
As you, that can but hisse at it.

Æg.
Wee will doe more; Palæmon, come away,
He hath wrong'd both; and both shall satisfie.

Al.
Which he will never doe; nay, goe and plod,
Your two wise braines will invent certainely
Politique ginnes to catch me in.
Exeunt.
And now have at thee Truga, if I find
That thou art guiltie; mum,—I have a ring.—
Palæmon, Ægon, Hylace, Melarnus
Are all against me; no great matter: hang care,
For'tis but o folly, &c.

Exit.
Enter Bellula.
This way my Callidorus went, what chance
Hath snatch'd him from my sight? how shall I find him?
How shall I find my selfe, now I have lost him?
With yee my feet and eyes I will not make
The smallest truce, till yee have sought him out.

Exit.
Enter Callidorus and Florellus.
Come, now your businesse.

Flo.
'Tis a fatall one,
Which will almost as much shame me to speake,
Much more to act, as 'twill fright you to heare it.

Cal.
Fright me? it must be then some wickednesse,
I am accustom'd so to misery,
That cannot do't.

Flo.
Oh! 'Tis a sinne young man,
A sinne which every one shall wonder at,
None not condemne, if ever it be knowne?
Me thinkes my bloud shrinkes back into my veines,
And my affrighted hayres are turn'd to bristles.
Doe not my eyes creepe backe into their cells;
As if they seem'd to wish for thicker darknesse,
Then either night or death to cover them?
Doth not my face looke black and horrid too?
As black and horrid as my thoughts? ha! tell me.

Cal.
I am a novice in all villanyes,
If your intents be such, dismisse me, pray,
My nature is more easie to discover
Then helpe you; so, Farewell.

Flo.
Yet stay a little longer; you must stay:
You are an actor in this Tragedy.

Cal.
What would you doe?

Flo.
Alas! I would doe nothing; but I must—

Cal.
What must you doe?

Flo.
I must.—Love thou hast got the victory—
Kill thee.

Cal.
Who? me? you doe but jest,
I should believe you, if I could tell how
To frame a cause, or thinke on any injury
Worth such a large revenge, which I have done you.

Flo.
Oh no! there's all the wickednesse, they may seeme
To find excuse for their abhorred fact;
That kill when wrongs, and anger urgeth them;
Because thou art so good, so affable.
So full of graces, both of mind and body,
Therefore I kill thee, wilt thou know it plainely,
Because whilst thou art living, Bellula
Protected she would never be another,
Therefore I kill thee.

Call.
Had I beene your rivall
You might have had some cause; cause did I say?
You might have had pretence for such a villany:
He who unjustly kills is twice a murtherer.

Flo.
He whom love bids to kill is not a murtherer.

Cal.
Call not that love that's ill; 'tis only fury.

Flo.
Fury in ills is halfe excusable:
Therefore prepare thy selfe; if any sinne
(Though I beleeve thy hot and flourishing youth,
As innocent as other mens nativities)
Hath flung a spot upon thy purer conscience
Wash it in some few teares.

Call.
Are you resolv'd to be so cruell?

Flo.
I must, or be as cruell to my selfe.

Call.
As sick men doe their beds, so have I yet
Injoy'd my selfe, with little rest, much trouble:
I have beene made the Ball of Love and Fortune,
And am almost worne out with often playing.
And therefore I would entertaine my death
As some good friend whose comming I expected;
Were it not that my parents—

Flo.
Here; see, I doe not come
(Drawes two swords from under his garment and offers one to Call.)
Like a foule murtherer to intrap you falsly,
Take your own choyse, and then defend your selfe.

Cal.
'Tis nobly done; and since it must be so,
Although my strength and courage call me woman
I will not dye like sheepe without resistance,
If innocence be guard sufficient,
I'me sure he cannot hurt me.

Flo.
Are you ready? the fatall Cuckow on yon spreading tree
Hath sounded out your dying knell already.

Cal.
I am.

Flo.
'Tis well, and I could wish thy hand
Were strong enough; 'tis thou deservest the victory,
Nay, were not th'hope of Bellula ingraven
In all my thoughts, I would my selfe play booty
Against my selfe; But Bellula—come on.

Fight.
Enter Philistus.
This is the wood adjoyning to the Farme,
Where I gave order unto Clariana
My sister, to remaine till my returne;
Here 'tis in vaine to seeke her, yet who knowes?
Though it be in vaine Ile seeke; to him that doth
Propose no journeys end, no path's amisse.
Why how now? what doe you meane? for shame part Shepheards,
I thought you honest shepheards, had not had
Sees them fighting.
So much of Court, and Citie follies in you.

Flo.
'Tis Philistus; I hope he will not know me,
Now I begin to see how black and horrid
My attempt was; how much unlike Florellus,
Thankes to the juster Deityes for declining
From both the danger, and from me the sin.

Phi.
'T would be a wrong to charity to dismisse yee
Before I see you friends, give me your weapons.

Cal.
'Tis he; why doe I doubt? most willingly,
And my selfe too, best man; now kill me shepheard—

Phi.
What doe you meane?
(Swounds)
Rise, prithee rise; sure you have wounded him.
Enter Bellula.
Deceive me not good eyes; what doe I see?
My Callidorus dead? 'Tis impossible!
Who is it that lyes slaine there? are you dumbe?
Who is't I pray?

Flo.
Faire Mistris—

Bel.
Pish, faire Mistris,—
I aske who 'tis; if it be Callidorus—

Phi.
Was his name Callidorus? it is strange.

Bel.
You are a villaine, and you too a villaine,
Wake Callidorus, wake, it is thy Bellula
That calls thee, wake, it is thy Bellula;
Why Gentlemen? why shepheard? fye for shame,
Have you no charity? ô my Callidorus!
Speake but one word—

Cal.
'Tis not well done to trouble me,
Why doe you envy me this little rest?

Bel.
No; I will follow thee.

(Swounds.)
Flo.
O helpe, helpe quickly,
What doe you meane? your Callidorus lives.

Bel.
Callidorus!

Flo.
And will be well immediatly, take courage,
Looke up a little: wretched as I am,
I am the cause of all this ill.

Phi.
What shall we doe? I have a sister dwells
Close by this place, let's hast to bring them thither.
But lets be sudden.

Flo.
As wing'd lightning is.
Come Bellula in spite of Fortune now
I doe embrace thee.

Phi.
I did protest without my Callidora
Ne're to returne, but pitty hath o'recome.

Bel.
Where am I?

Flo.
Where I could alwayes wish thee: in those armes
Which would enfold thee with more subtill knots,
Then amorous Ivy, whilst it hugges the oake.

Cal.
Where doe ye beare me? is Philistus well?

Phi.
How should he know my name? 'tis to me a riddle
Nay Shepheard find another time to court in,
Make hast now with your burthen.

Flo.
With what ease should I goe alwaies were I burthened thus!

Exeunt
Enter Aphron.
She told me she was sister to Philistus,
Who having mist the beauteous Callidora,
Hath undertooke a long, and hopelesse journey
To find her out; then Callidora's fled,
Without her parents knowledge, and who knowes
When shee'le returne, or if she doe, what then?
Lambes will make peace, and joyne themselves with wolves
Ere she with me, worse then a wolfe to her:
Besides, how durst I undertake to court her?
How dare I looke upon her after this?
Foole as I am, I will forget her quite,
And Clariana shall hence-forth—but yet
How faire she was! what then? so's Clariana;
What graces did she dart on all beholders?
Shee did; but so does Clariana too,
Shee was as pure and white as Parian marble,
What then? Shee was as hard too; Clariana
Is pure and white as Ericina's Doves,
And is as soft, as gallesse too as they,
Her pitty sav'd my life, and did restore
My wandring senses, if I should not love her,
I were farre madder now, then when she found me,
I will goe in and render up my selfe,
For her most faithfull servant.
Wonderfull!
Exit. Enter againe.
Wonderfull!
Shee has lockt me in, and keepes me here her prisoner:
In these two chambers; what can she intend?
No matter, she intends no hurt I'me sure,
I'le patiently expect her comming to me.

Exit.
Enter Demophil, Spodaia, Clariana, Florellus, Callidora, Bellula, Philistus.
Dem.
My Daughter found againe, and son returnd!
Ha, ha! me thinkes it makes me young againe.
My Daughter and my Son meet here together!
Philistus with them too! that we should come
To grieve with Clariana, and find her here.
Nay, when we thought we had lost Florellus too
To find them both, me thinkes it makes me young againe.

Spo.
I thought I never should have seene thee more
My Callidora; come wench, now let's heare,
The story of your flight and life in the woods.

Phi.
Doe happy Mistris for the recordation,
Of forepast ils, makes us the sweetlier rellish
Our present good.

Cal.
Of Aphrons love to me, and my antipathy
Towards him, there's none here ignorant, you know too.
How guarded with his love, or rather fury,
And some few men he broke into our house
With resolution to make me the prey
Of his wild lust.

Sp.
I, there's a villaine now; oh! that I had him here.

Cla.
Oh! say not so:
The crymes which Lovers for their Mistris act
Beare both the weight aud stampe of piety.

Dem.
Come girle; goe on, goe on. His wild lust—

Cla.
What sudden feare shooke me, you may imagine,
What should I doe? you both were out of towne,
And most of the servants at that time gone with you.
I on the sudden found a corner out,
And hid my selfe, till they wearied with searching,
Quitted the house, but fearing lest they should
Attempt the same againe ere your returne,
I tooke with me money and other necessaries;
And in a sute my Brother left behind
Disguis'd my selfe, thus to the woods I went,
Where meeting with an honest merry Swaine,
I by his helpe was furnisht, and made Shepheard.

Sp.
Nay, I must needs say for her, she was alwayes
A witty wench.

Dem.
Pish, pish: And made a Shepheard—

Cal.
It hapned that this gentle Shepheatdesse,
(I can attribute it to nought in me
Deserv'd so much) began to love me.

Phi.
Why so did all besides Ile warrant you,
Nor can I blame them, though they were my rivall.

Cal.
Another Shepheard with as much desire
Wooed her in vaine, as she in vaine wooed me,
Who seeing that no hope was left for him,
Whilst I enjoy'd this life t'enjoy his Bellula,
(For by that name she's knowne) sought to take me
Out of the way as a partition
Betwixt his love and him, whilst in the fields
Wee two were strugling, (him his strength defending,
And me my innocence.)

Flo.
I am asham'd to looke upon their faces.
What shall I say? my guilt's above excuse.

Cal.
Philistus; as if the Gods had all agreed
To make him mine, just at the nick came in
And parted us, with sudden joy I sounded,
Which Bellula perceiving (for even then
Shee came to seeke me) sudden griefe did force
The same effect from her, which joy from me.
Hither they brought us both, in this amazement,
Where being straight recover'd to our selves,
I found you here, and you your dutifull Daughter.

Spo:
The Gods be thankt.

Dem.
Goe on.

Cal.
Nay, you have all Sir.

Dem.
Where's that Shepheard?

Flo.
Here.

Dem.
Here, where?

Flo.
Here, your unhappy sonne's the man; for her
I put on Sylvan weeds, for her faire sake
I would have stayn'd my innocent hands in bloud,
Forgive me all, 'twas not a sin of malice,
'Twas not begot by lust, but sacred love;
The cause must be the excuse for the effect.

Dem.
You should have us'd some other meanes, Florellus.

Cal.
Alas! 'twas the Gods will Sir, without that
I had beene undiscovered yet; Philistus
Wandred too farre, my Brother yet a Shepheard,
You groaning for our losse, upon this wheele
All our felicity is turn'd.

Sp.
Alas! you have forgot the power of love, sweet-heart.

Dem.
Be patient Son, and temper your desire,
You shall not want a wife that will perhaps
Please you as well, I'me sure befit you better.

Flo.
They marry not, but sell themselves t'a wife,
Whom the large dowry tempts, and take more pleasure
To hugge the wealthy bagges then her that brought them.
Let them whom nature bestowes nothing on
Seeke to patch up their want by parents plenty;
The beautifull, the chast, the vertuous,
Her selfe alone is portion to her selfe.
Enter Ægon.
By your leave; I come to seeke a Daughter.
O! are you there, 'tis well.

Flo.
This is her Father,
I doe conjure you Father, by the love
Which parents beare their children, to make up
The match betwixt us now, or if you will not
Send for your friends, prepare a coffin for me
And let a grave be dig'd, I will be happy,
Or else not know my misery to morrow;

Spo.
You doe not thinke what ill may happen husband,
Come, let him have her, you have meanes enough
For him, the wench is faire, and if her face
Be not a flatterer, of a noble mind,
Although not stocke.

Æg.
I doe not like this stragling, come along,
By your leave Gentlemen, I hope you will
Pardon my bold intrusion.

Cl.
You're very welcome.
What are you going Bellula? pray stay,
Though Nature contradicts our love, I hope
That I may have your friendship.

Æg.
Bellula!

Bel.
My father calls; farewell; your name, and memory
In spite of Fate, I'le love, farewell.

Flo.
Would you be gone, and not bestow one word
Vpon your faithfull servant? doe not all
my griefes and troubles for your sake sustaynd.
Deserve, Farewell Florellus?

Bel.
Fare you well then.

Flo.
Alas! how can I, Sweet, unlesse you stay,
Or I goe with you? you were pleas'd ere while
To say you honoured me with the next place
To Callidorus in your heart, then now
I should be first: doe you repent your sentence?
Or can that tongue sound lesse then Oracle?

Bel.
Perhaps I am of that opinion still,
But must obey my Father.

Æg.
Why Bellula? would you have ought with her Sir?

Flo.
Yes, I would have her selfe; if constancy
And love be meritorious, I deserve her.
Why Father, Mother, Sister, Gentlemen,
Will you plead for me?

Dem.
Since't must be so, I'le beare it patiently,
Shepheard you see how much our son is taken
With your faire Daughter, therefore if you thinke
Him fitting for her husband speake, and let it
Be made a match immediatly, we shall
Expect no other dowrie then her vertue.

Æg.
Which only I can promise; for her fortune
Js beneath you so farre, that I could almost
Suspect your words, but that you seeme more noble.
How now, what say you Girle?

Bel.
I only doe depend upon your will.

Æg.
And Ile not be an enemy to thy good fortune.
Take her Sir, and the Gods blesse you.

Flo.
With greater joy then I would take a Crowne.

Al.
The Gods blesse you.

Flo.
They have don't already.

Æg.
Lest you should thinke when time, and oft enjoying
Hath dul'd the point, and edge of your affection
That you have wrong'd your selfe and family,
By marying one whose very name, a Shepheardesse,
Might fling some spot upon your birth, I'le tell you,
She is not mine, nor borne in these rude woods:

Flo.
How! you speake misty wonders.

Æg.
I speake truths Sir,
Some fifteene yeares agoe, as I was walking
I found a Nurse wounded, and groning out
Her latest spirit, and by her a faire child,
And, which her very dressing might declare,
Of wealthy parents, as soone as I came to them
I as'kd her who had us'd her so inhumanly:
She answered Turkish Pirats; and withall
Desired me to looke unto the child,
For 'tis, said she, a Noblemans of Sicily,
His name she would have spoke, but death permitted not.
Her as I could, I caused to be buried,
But brought home the little Girle with me,
Where by my wives perswasions wee agreed,
Because the Gods had blest us with no issue,
To nourish as our owne, and call it Bellula
Whom now you see, your wife, your Daughter.

Spo.
Is't possible?

Flo.
Her manners shew'd her noble.

Æg.
I call the Gods to witnesse, this is true.
And for the farther testimony of it,
I have yet kept at home the furniture,
And the rich mantle which she then was wrapt in,
Which now perhaps may serve to some good use
Thereby to know her parents.

Dem.
Sure this is Aphrons sister then, for just
About the time he mentions, I remember,
The governour of Pachinus, then his Father
Told me that certaine Pirats of Argier
Had broke into his house, and stolne from thence
With other things his Daughter, and her Nurse,
Who being after taken, and executed,
Their last confession was, that they indeed
Wounded the Nurse, but she fled with the child,
Whilst they were busie searching for more prey.
Whom since her father, neither saw, nor heard of.

Cla.
Then now I'me sure Sir, you would gladly pardon
The rash attempt of Aphron, for your Daughter,
Since fortune hath joyn'd, both of you by kindred.

Dem.
Most willingly:

Spo.
I, I, alas! 'twas love:

Flo.
Where should wee find him out?

Cla.
Ile save that labour.
Exit Clariana.

Cal.
Where's Hylace pray shepheard? and the rest
Of my good Silvan friends? me thinkes I would,
Faine take my leave of them.

Æg.
I'le fetch them hither.
They're not farre off, and if you please to helpe
The match betwixt Hylace and Palæmon,
'Twould be a good deed, Ile goe fetch them.

Exit.
Enter Aphron, Clariana.
Ap.
Ha! whether have you led me Clariana?
Some steepy mountaine bury me alive,
Or rock intombe me in its stony intrayles,
Whom doe I see?

Cla.
Why doe you stare my Aphron?
They have forgiven all.

Dem.
Come, Aphron, welcome,
We have forgot the wrong you did my Daughter,
The name of love hath cover'd all; this is
A joyfull day, and sacred to great Hymen
'Twere sin not to be friends with all men now.

Sp.
Methinks, I have much adoe to forgive the rascall.

(Aside.)
Ap.
I know not what to say; doe you all pardon me?
I have done wrong to yee all, yea, to all those
That have a share in vertue. Can yee pardon me?

All.
Most willingly.

Aph.
Doe you say so faire Virgin?
You I have injur'd most: with love,
With saucy love, which I henceforth recall,
And will looke on you with an adoration,
Not with desire hereafter; tell me, pray,
Doth any man yet call you his?

Cal.
Yes; Philistus.

Ap.
I congratulate it Sir.
The Gods make yee both happy: foole, as I am,
You are at the height already of felicity,
To which there's nothing can be added now,
But perpetuity; you shall not find me
Your rivall any more, though I confesse
I honor her, and will for ever doe so.
Clariana, I am so much unworthy
Of thy love. That—

Cl.
Goe no farther Sir, 'tis I should say so
Of my owne selfe.

Phi.
How Sister? are you two so neere upon a match?

Ap.
In our hearts Sir,
Wee are already joyn'd, it may be though
You will be loth to have unhappy Aphron,
Stile you his Brother?

Phi.
No Sir, if you both
Agree, to me it shall not be unwelcome.
Why here's a day indeed; sure Hymen now
Meanes to spend all his torches.

Dem.
'Tis my Son Sir,
New come from travaile, and your Brother now.

Ap.
I understand not.

Dem.
Had you not a sister?

Ap.
I had Sir; but where now she is none knowes,
Besides the Gods.

Dem.
Is't not about some fifteene yeares agoe
Since that the Nurse scap't with her from the hands
Of Turkish Pyrats that beset the house?

Ap.
It is Sir.

Dem.
Your sister lives then, and is maried
Now to Florellus; this is she, you shall be
Enform'd of all the circumstances anon.

Ap.
'Tis impossible.
I shall be made too happy on the sudden.
My Sister found, and Clariana mine!
Come not too thick good joyes, you will oppresse me.

Enter Melarnus, Truga, Ægon, Hylace, Palæmon.
Cal.
Shepheards you're welcome all; though I have lost
Your good society, I hope I shall not
Your friendship, and best wishes.

Ægon.
Nay, here's wonders;
Now Callidorus is found out a woman,
Bellula not my Daughter, and is maried
To yonder Gentleman, for which I intend
To doe in earnest what before I jested,
To adopt Palæmon for my heire.

Mel.
Ha, ha, ha!
Come it's no matter for that; doe you thinke
To cheate me once againe with your fine tricks?
No matter for that neither. Ha, ha, ha!
Alas! shee's maried to Dametas.

Æg.
Nay, that was your plot Melarnus,
I met with him, and he denyes it to me.

Hy.
Henceforth I must not love, but honor you—to Callidora.

Æg.
By all the Gods I will.

Tru.
He will, he will; Duck.

Mel.
Of everything?

Æg.
Of every thing; I call
These gentlemen to witnesse here, that since
I have no child to care for; I will make
Palæmon heire to those small meanes the Gods,
Have blest me with, if he doe marry Hylace.

Mel.
Come it's no matter for that, I scarce beleeve you.

Dem.
Wee'le be his sure tyes.

Mel.
Hylace
What thinke you of Palæmon? can you love him?
H'as our consents, but it's no matter for that,
If he doe please you, speake, or now, or never.

Hyl.
Why doe I doubt fond Girle? shee's now a woman.

Mel.
No matter for that, what you doe, doe quickly.

Hyl.
My duty binds me not to be averse
To what likes you.—

Mel.
Why take her then Palæmon; she's yours for ever.

Pa.
With farre more joy
Then I would doe the wealth of both the Indyes,
Thou art above a father to me, Ægon.
W'are freed from misery with sense of joy,
Wee are not borne so; oh! my Hylace,
It is my comfort now that thou wert hard,
And cruell till this day, delights are sweetest?
When poysoned with the trouble to attaine them.

Enter Alupis.
By your leave, I come to seeke a woman,
That hath outlived the memorie of her youth,
With skin as black as her teeth, if she have any,
With a face would fright the Constable and his watch
Out of their wits (and that's easily done you'le say) if they should meet her at midnight.
O! are you there? J thought I smelt you somewhere;
Come hither my she Nestor, pretty Truga,
Come hither, my sweet Duck.

Tru.
Why? are you not asham'd to abuse me thus,
Before this company?

Al.
I have something more;
I come to shew the ring before them all;
How durst you thus betray us to Melarnus?

Tru.
'Tis false, 'twas Hylace that over-heard you;
Shee told me so; but they are maried now.

Al.
What doe you thinke to flam me? why ho! here's newes.

Pa.
Alupis art thou there? forgive my anger,
I am the happiest man alive, Alupis,
Hylace is mine, here are more wonders too,
Thou shalt know all anon.

Tru.
Alupis, give me.

Al.
Well, rather then be troubled.

Æg.
Alupis welcome, now w'are friends J hope?
Give me your hand.

Mel.
And me.

Al.
With all my heart,
I'me glad to see yee have learn'd more wit at last.

Cal.
This is the Shepheard, Father, to whose care
I owe for many favours in the woods,
You're welcome heartily; here's every body
Payr'd of a sudden; when shall's see you maried?

Al.

Phi.
You're welcome all, and I desire you all
To be my guests to day; a Wedding dinner,
Such as the sudden can afford, wee'le have,
Come will yee walke in Gentlemen?

Dem.
Yes, yes,
What crosses have yee borne before yee joyn'd!
What seas past through before yee touch't the port!
Thus Lovers doe, ere they are crown'd by Fates
With Palme, the tree their patience imitates.