University of Virginia Library

Scen. 5.

Thestylis. Mopsus. Amyntas. Amaryllis. Vrania.
Ama.
My griefe o're weighs me!

The.
How fares my Amaryllis?

Ama.
Like a Taper
Allmost burnt out: sometimes all a darknesse,
And now and then a flash or two of comfort,
But soone blown out againe. Ah Thestylis,
I cannot long subsist. For thee vain's labour;
Away! I hate thee cause my Damon does,
And for that reason too I hate my selfe,
And every thing but him!

Vra.
Come my sad partner,
Poore rivall of my sorrowes: Goe with mee
Into the Temple; I'le intreat my Brother
To use thee kindly: if in mee it lye,
I'le helpe thee.

Ama.
Doe Vrania, or I dye.

Exeunt Vrania, Amaryl. Amyntas. Thestylis. Mopsus.
The.
What a strange thing is Love!

Amy.
It is a madnesse:
See how it stares?—Have at thee thou blind Archer!
—O I have mist him!—now I'le stand thee Cupid!
Looke how the rascall winkes a one eye, Thestylis!
Nay draw your arrow home boy! just i'th heart!
—O I am slaine!

Thest.
Amyntas.

Amy.
Dost not see?
My blood runs round about mee, I lye soaking
In a red Sea, take heed! see Thestylis,
What a fine Crimson 'tis?

Mop.
Where?

Amy.
Here you puppet!
Dost thou not see it?

Mop.
Yes I see it playne,
But I spy nothing.

Amy.
Then thou art a mole.

Mop.
Now I looke better on't, I see it plaine;
Does it not not hurt you?

Amy.
Strangely! Have at thee—
How think you now?

The.
Be quiet good Amyntas.

Mop.
You'l fright away the birds else, and clean spoile
My augury.
Amyn, Goe about it, I am quiet!

Mop.
Now for some happy Omen!

a Cuckoe Cries.
Amy.
Ha, ha, he!

Mop.
Why laughs the madman?

Amy.
Who can choose but laugh?
The bird cried Hornes!

The.
What happinesse portends it,
Sweet Mopsus?

Mop.
Constancy in Love, my Thestylis,
This bird is alwaies in a note.

The.
Most excellent.

Mop.
Bird of the spring I thank thee! Mopsus thanks thee.

Amy.
This is a man of skill, an Oedipus,
Apollo, Reverent Phœbus, Don of Delphos.

Mop.
What a brave man am I?

Amy.
Thou canst resolve
By thy great Art all questions: What is that,
That which I have not, may not, cannot have?

Mop.
That which you have not, may not, cannot have?
It is my skill, you cannot have my skill.

Amy.
Where lies that skill?

Mop.
Lies? here within this noddle.

Amy.
Fetch me my wood-knife I will cut it off,
And send it to Vrania for a dowry.

Mop.
No, no I am deceiv'd, it is not that.

Amy.
You dolt, you asse, you cuckoe:

Mop.
Good Amyntas.