University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Amintas, Daphne, Nerina.
Amin.
Oh! Pityless pity, cruel friend!
To snatch away my Dart, with which
I might have ended all my woes:
The longer I retard my death
'Twill be the sharper when it comes.
Ah! Daphne, why wouldst thou perswade
A wretch to live in misery?
But all thy reasons are too weak,
The hopes that thou wouldst give me vain:
Why wouldst thou flatter me from death,
Since 'tis my interest to dye?

Daph.
Despair no more, for if I know
Sylvia's mind, 'twas more her shame,
Than fear or scorn that made her fly.

Amin.
There's safety in despair, but hope
Would quickly ruin me: I see
You only would by specious hopes
Prevent my death a while: for what?
Ah! can there be a torment worse
Than Life to such a wretch as me?

Daph.
Live wretched, as thou thinkst thy self,
And under all thy pains support
Thy heart, that after so much woe,
Thou mayst, tho late, o'recome 'em, and be blest;
Let this encourage thee to hope,
Think on the Beauties thou hast seen;
And, as thou justly mayst, expect,
That all those treasures will be thine.

Amin.
Fortune and Love did only shew
Those Beauties to me, that my Eyes
Might see the riches I'm deny'd.

Nerina.
Why, like the Raven, must I be
The omen of bad news? Ah poor
Montano! how wilt thou survive
Thy Daughters loss, thy Sylvia's death,
The death of one thou lov'dst so well?
No more a Father now, at least
Without a Child.

Daph.
I hear the voice
Of one that talks of death.

Amin.
I hear
My Sylvia nam'd, it strikes my heart:
Who calls on Sylvia?

Daph.
Ha, Nerina!
‘So dear to Cynthia, so fair
‘Her face, so white her hands,
‘Her mien so soft, so full of grace,
‘That she's the glory of our Woods.

Nerina.
'Tis necessary thou shouldst know thy loss,
Montano, that thou mayst procure
The miserable relicts of thy Child.
Oh Sylvia! oh unhappy Maid!

Amint.
Ha! what of Sylvia? speak.

Nerina.
Oh Daphne!

Daph.
What wouldst thou have of Daphne? say.
Why dost thou mourn and call on Sylvia?

Nerina.
I've cause to mourn, the fatal things
Which have been to day will make
You, him, and every body mourn.

Amin.
What things? Ah tell me all! my heart
Chills at thy words: Speak, does she live?

Daph.
Tell us what fatal things are done.

Nerina.
Why have I liv'd, oh Heaven! to be
The messenger of these sad tydings.
Sylvia came naked to our house,
(You know perhaps the fatal cause)
Where being cloath'd she fain would go,
And forc'd me with her to the Chace.
We went, and in the Forest found
The Nymphs, who by appointment met,
Were ready to begin the sport,
When from the Thicket I perceiv'd
A Wolf of monstrous size rush forth,
Licking his bloody Lips, whose foam
Reeking and Crimson, made us shake with fear;
But Sylvia from her Quiver took
An Arrow, put it to the Bow
I gave her, which she nimbly bent,
And taking at the Beast just aim,
She shot him near the Head; the Wolf enrag'd
Fled to the Thicket: Sylvia drew,
And brandishing her Dart, pursu'd
Him in the Woods.

Amint.
Oh doleful story!
Of which, if 'tis so sad to hear
So much, what must it be to know
The rest.

Nerina.
I, with another Dart,
Follow'd 'em by the blood the Wolf had spilt,
But could not reach 'em, they were gone too far.
I lost her in the Woods, yet still
Kept on alone, and wander'd thro
The frightful Thicket, till I came
To its most unfrequented tracts,
Where Sylvia's Dart lay on the ground,
And at a little distance thence
Her veil; and while I gaz'd on these,
I spy'd seven Wolves around a Corps,
Who tore it with their bloody Teeth.
So eager on their Prey,
I saw the woful sight unseen by them;
With fear and pity mov'd, I turn'd
My steps, and got in safety home.
This, this is all that I can tell: [Shews the Veil.

This all of Sylvia which remains.

Amin.
Ah! thou hast told too much.
Oh! Dear Remains: Oh! precious Blood,
Oh Sylvia! now alas no more!

Daph.
Ah! What, Nerina, hast thou said?
It strikes his Soul: he swoons, he dyes!

Nerina.
Perhaps 'tis but a Lovers fit;
He breathes still; see, he comes to life.

Amint.
Ah! Grief too mighty to be born,
And yet too weak to be my death;
This office for my hand's reserv'd,
And by my hand shall be perform'd.
If my misfortunes are so sure,
If Sylvia's dead, oh Daphne, why,
Why didst thou renew my pain,
By bringing me to life again?
How good, how pleasant had it been,
If n an extasie of woe
Thou hadst permitted me to dye:
The Gods, who knew I should by this
Prevent the torments they've prepar'd
For me to feel, inspir'd your hearts
With pity, that being forc'd to live
I might endure 'em all; and all
I have endur'd, for Sylvia's dead:
Nor is it possible for me
To be more wretched than I am:
And now methinks 'tis just that Heav'n and you
And all should suffer me to dye.

Daph.
At least defer it till you know the truth.

Amin.
I know the truth, I know too much,
And have deferr'd my death too long.

Nerina.
Oh heaven! I wish I had been mute.
When I began the story.

Amin.
Lend me, Nerina, lend the Veil,
All that is left me of my love
That on it I may feast my Eyes,
The little way I have to go,
The little time I have to live,
That looking on her Blood, I may
Go boldly to my doom: But oh
What need such little helps
To lead me to my end?

Nerina.
No, Swain,
You must not have the Veil, if this
Is your design: I'll not promote
Your death.

Amint.
Ah! canst thou, Nymph, deny
So small a favour to a man,
Who ne're will ask another.
The fates still persecute me, still declare
Against me, and in little things
Shew what I must expect in great.
Keep, keep the Veil, and live in peace,
Let misery with me forsake these Woods,
I go to other Shades, and never shall return.

Daph.
Stay, stay Amintas, oh I fear
His fury.

Nerina.
But we can't prevent
What he intends, he flies
Too fast for us; we should in vain
Pursue him, and in vain attempt
To stop him in his course.
In silence I'll their fortune mourn;
Let others tell Montano, if they please,
Few people thank us for such tales as these.

CHORUS.