 | Il pastor fido |  |
Scene 4.
Corisca.O how Fortune fauours my disseignes
More then I lookt for. She good reason hath,
For I ne're askt her fauour shamefastly.
Great pow're she hath, and with good cause the world
Calls her a puissant goddesse: yet must we not sit still,
For sildome idle folkes proue fortunate.
Had not my industry made me companion vnto her,
What would this fit occasion haue auailed me,
To bring my purpose vnto passe? Some foole
Would haue her riuall shund, and shew'd signes of
Her iealousie, bearing an euil eye
About, but that had bene ill done, for easilier
May one keepe her from an open then a hidden foe.
The couer'd rocks are those which do deceiue
The wisest marriners Who cannot friendship faine,
Cannot truly hate. Now see what I can do,
I am not such an asse to thinke she doth not loue,
Is might she make some other foole beleeue.
But tush, I am the mistresse of this art. A tender wench,
Scarce from the cradle crept, in whom loue hath
Still'd but the first drop, of his sweet, so long
Pursude and woo'd by a worthy friend,
And worse, kill, and rekist, and yet not loue:
But see how Fortune fauours me: Behold
Where Amarillis is her selfe, Ile make
As though I sawe her not, and stand aside.
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