University of Virginia Library

SCENA QUINTA.

Charinus, Nerina, Dorinda, Daphnis.
And as I oft have told you, I doe wish
To see you wise.

Do.
Is she not so Charinus?
Does she say any thing that's out of reason?

Cha.
Do not tell me of reason; I would heare
Of her obedience, therefore I say, be wise,
And doe as I would have you.

Do.
What would you
Have her to doe? you see she answers not
To contradict you.

Cha.
I will have her answer
To what I now demand, that is, to marry
Daphnis, and I will have her love him too.

Do.
Love him Charinus? that you cannot do:
Her body you may linke i'th' rights of Hymen,
Her will she must bestow her selfe, not you.

Da.
Oh, she was borne to be a plague unto me.

Aside.
Cha.
Why should she wish or hope for any thing,
But what I'de have her wish or hope for onely?
Come, to be short, answere me, and directly;
Are you content to marry Daphnis, say?

Ne.
What is your pleasure Father?

Cha.
You do not heare
It seemes, but what you list; I aske you once
Againe, if you will marry Daphnis, speake?

Ne.
Sir, I would marry whom you please to give me:
I neither can, nor ought to make my choice,
I would referre that to you: But you know
My inclination never lay to marry.

Cha.
I know you shal do that which I command.

Ne.
Now heaven forbid, that I who have thus long
Vow'd to Diana my Virginitie,
To follow her a Huntresse in these Woods,
Should yeeld my selfe to the impure delights
Of Hymen, and so violate my faith.

Cha.
A fine devotion, is it not? to make
A vow, and never aske your Father leave;
The Lawes will not permit it to be so.

Do.
The vow Charinus, is not made to men:
The Lawes have not to doe with that which is
Seal'd and recorded in the Court of Heaven.

Cha.
Do not tell me of vowes, I'le have her marry;
And marry Daphnis: Is he not rich and handsome?

Do.
Ay me! I would he were nor rich, nor handsome,
It may be then he would regard my sufferings.

Aside.
Cha.
No, Daughter, do not you beleeve, you can
Catch me with shifts and tricks: I see, I tell you,
Into your heart.

Ne.
Alas, I would you did,
Then your discourse would tend another way.

Cha.
Yes, you have made a vow I know, which is,
Whilst you are young, you will have all the Youth
To follow you with lies and flatteries.
Foole, they'le deceive you, when this colour fades,
Which will not alwaies last, and you goe crooked,
As if you sought your beautie lost i'th' ground:
Then they will laugh at you, and finde some other
Fit for their love; where if you doe as I
Command you, I have one will make you happie.

Ne.
Ay me most miserable!

Da.
Now I'le come in,
And see what I can doe with this my gift.

Cha.
Looke now, as if the Fates would have it so,
He comes just in the nicke of my discourse:
Come, use him kindly now, and then you shall
Redeeme what you have lost, my good opinion.

Ne.
O most ungratefull chance! how I doe hate
The sight of him!

Do.
Were it to me he came,
How happie would this faire encounter be!

Cha.
Daphnis, you're welcome, very welcome to me,
And to my Daughter: what is that you have there?

Da.
A present, which I meane to give my love.

Cha.
See but how true a lover Daphnis is;
His hand is never emptie when he comes:
Welcome him Daughter, looke what he has for you.

Da.
O good Charinus, none must looke in it,
But she herselfe to whom it is presented.

Cha.
I am an old man, I, and therefore care not
To see my wither'd face, and hoarie haire:
Give it that young thing, she knows what to doe with it,
Daughter, come hither, use him courteously,
And kindly too: (Be sure you take his gift.)
Daphnis, I'le leave you both together here;
My sheepe are shearing, I can stay no longer.

Da.
Farewell old man; health to my dearest Mistresse.

Ne.
And to you shepheard.

Do.
Daphnis am not I
Worthy to have a share in your salute?

Do.
How can I give thee part of that, whereof
I have no share my selfe?

Do.
If you would love
There, where you are belov'd againe, you might
Make your content such, as you would your selfe.

Da.
If you, Nerina, would vouchsafe to love
Him that loves you, and ever will, you might
Make your content such as you would your selfe.

Ne.
Shepheard, I oft have wisht you not to trouble
Me and your selfe with words: I cannot love you.

Da.
As oft Dorinda have I spoke to you,
To leave to trouble me: I cannot love you.

Do.
Will you then slight my love, because 'tis offer'd?

Da.
Will you then slight my love, because 'tis offer'd?

Ne.
Somebody else may love you, I cannot.

Da.
Somebody else may love you, I cannot.

Do.
O cruell words; how they do peirce my heart!

Da.
O cruell words, how they do peirce my heart!

Ne.
How can I helpe it, if your destinie
Lead you to love, where you may not obtaine?

Da.
How can I helpe it, if your destinie
Leade you to love, where you may not obtaine.

Do.
It is not destinie that injures me,
It is thy cruell will, and marble heart.

Da.
It is not destinie that injures me,
It is thy cruell will, and marble heart.

Ne.
No Daphnis, 'tis not hardnes of my heart,
Nor any crueltie that causes this.

Da.
Then 'tis disdaine of me.

Ne.
Nor is it that:
I do not see in Daphnis any thing
To cause disdaine.

Do.
Why do you not replie
In those same words to me, malicious Eccho?

Da.
Pray leave me, I have other businesse now
To trouble me; if you disdaine me not,
Faire Nymph, as you pretend, receive my offer.

Ne.
What's that?

Da.
My heart.

Do.
I will gentle Daphnis.

Da.
O importunitie!

Ne.
Give her thy heart,
She has deserv'd it, for she loves thee, Daphnis.

Da.
First I would teare it peecemeale here before you.

Do.
O me unfortunate! O cruell man!

Ne.
Stay good Dorinda, I'le goe with thee, stay.

Da.
Let her goe where she will, behold sweete saint
This Mirror here, the faithfull representer
Of that which I adore, your beautious forme,
When you do see in that how how lovely are
your lookes, you will not blame my love.

Ne.
If I refuse it,
My father will be angrie, let me see it:
Here take thy glasse againe: what ailes my head?
I know not where I am, it is so giddie:
And something like a drousinesse has seiz'd
My vitall spirits.

Da.
How do you love? not well?

Ne.
Heavy o'th suddaine; Ile goe home, & sleepe.

Da.
So, let her goe, and let this worke awhile.
Shee cast an eye upon me as she went,
That by its languishing did seeme to say,
Daphnis I'me thine, thou hast o'recome at last:
Alcon, th'hast made me happy by thy art.