University of Virginia Library

Scen. 2.

Glaucilla
sola.
Haplesse and fond, too fond and haplesse maide,
Whose hate with loue, whose loue with hate is payd,
Or learne to hate where thou hast hatred prou'd,
Or learne to loue againe, where thou art lou'd,
Thy loue gets scorne: doe not so dearely earne it,
At least learne by forgetting to vnlearne it.
Ah fond and haplesse maide, but much more fond
Canst thou vnlearne the lesson thou has cond?
Since then thy fixed loue will leaue thee neuer
He hates thy loue, leaue thou his hate foreuer,
And though his yee might quench thy loues desiring
Liue in his loue and die in his admiring
Olinda so late abroad?
Enter Olinda,
The sunne is now at rest, heauens winking eyes
All drowsie seeme, loue onely rest denies:
But thou art free as aire, what is the reason?
What glasse is this?

Olin.
Prethee Glaucilla
Doe not thus search my soules deepe ranckling wound
Which thou canst neuer helpe when thou hast found.

Glau.
Thy soule was wont to lodge within mine eare
And euer, was it safely harboured there
My eare is not accquainted with my tongue
That eyther tongue or eare should doe thee wrong
Yet doe not tell me, I'le thee, I spie
Thy burning feauer is thy teltale eye.
Thou loust deny it not, thou loust Olinda
In vaine a chest to locke vp flames we seeke
Which now with purple fires thy blushing cheekes

Olin.
Th'art such a mistris in thy louing art
That all in vaine I hide my loue sicke heart
And yet as vaine to open't now tis hid.

Glau.
Why so loues hee another?

Olin.
I would he did.

Glau.
Strange wish in loue, much rather had I die,
Is he then perisht?

Olin.
Yes and with him I.

Glau.
I prethee tell me all doe not conceale it,
Ile mourne with thee if that I cannot heale it.

Olin.
Heare then and who so ere maiyst be a bride
Learne this of me to hate thy maiden pride.
Atyches thou knowest?

Glau.
Thy champion?

Olin.
The same
Almost a yeare since he came to this towne
When finding mee fishing along the shore
Silent he angles by mee, till at length
Seeing mee take a starfish, and fling't away
He straight demands why I refus'd that pray
The cause I said was hate, he thus replied
Alas poore fish how wretch'ed is your fate
When you are kild for loue sau'd but for hate;
Yet then that fish much worse the fisher swaine
Who for his loue by hate is causeles slaine,

Glau.
Yet happier he that's slaine by loues defying
Then she in fate that liues yet euer dying

Olin.
But soone as loue he nam'd, I straight was parting
He holding mee thus speaks; stay Nymph and heare
I bring thee newes which well deserues thine eare
He which most loues thee and thou hatest most
Thalander (at his name my guiltie heart
Ashamed of it selfe did in me start)
He thus went on: Thalander's dead and dying
By oath and all his loue swore me to see thee
With these few words: Thalander quite forsaken
Would send to thee what thou from him hast taken
All life and health, and ne're his loue remoouing
Wishes thee a freind more happie and as louing
And with this prayer these legacies he sends thee
This pipe his mother Circes gift, to bind
With this soft whistle the loud whistling wind
And with this pipe he left this precious ring
Whose vertues cuers a venemous tooth or sting

Glau.
Thalander were wee nothing like the other
Only thy loue would proue thou art my brother.
Did not this moue thee.

Olin.
Glaucilla why should I lie
I tooke them as spoiles from a slaine enemio,
And for these gifts (sayes he) his last demand
Was this, that I might kisse thy hand:
The last, the only gift thou canst impart
To such, so louing, and now dying heart!
I grant; be gone, vpon the Ring I spie
A Rubie cut most artificially,
Wherein was fram'd a youth in fire consuming,
And round within it as the Ring I turne,
I found these words, Aliue or dead, I burne.

Glau.
These words well fitt his heart, so you, so I
Thalander liuing loues, and louing dies.

Olin.
But oh those fained flames, such strange desires,
Such true, such lasting, neuer-quenched fires
Haue kindled in my brest, that all the Art
Of Triphons selfe cannot allay my smart:
Ah Glaucilla, the scornefull proud Olinda;
Which at so sweete a loue a mockery made,
Who scornd the true Thalander, loues his shade,
Whose thousand graces liuing could not turne mee,
His ashes now hee's dead to ashes, burne mee.

Glau.
If thus you loue him, how canst thou allow
Thy loue to Atyches! late didst thou vowe
In Neptunes temple to be his for euer.

Olin.
My hand he married there, my heart ah neuer.
Glaucilla, I loue him for his loue to mee,
For such his venture, for such his victorie,
But most, because in loue he is my riuall,
Because hee's like and loue, my Loue Thalander.
Ah, if my life will please him, let him take it,
He gaue it mee and I would faine forsake it.
Had it beene mine to giue, my wretched heart,
Not worth his dangerous fight, I would impart
But that is thine, Thalander thine for euer
With mee tis buried and arise shall neuer.
And wherefore serues this glasse?

Olin.
This is a dessamour Cosma lately gaue mee.

Glau.
Olinda, knowst not yet the treachery
Of Cosma, she thy greatest enemy?
Prethee let me see't: shouldst thou this liquor proue,
I tell thee, friend, 'twill quench thy life and loue.
But so Ile temper't, it shall better please thee,
And after few spent houres shall euer ease thee.

Olin,
Tis beyond art, who there can giue reliefe.
Where patients hate the cure, more then the griefe?

Glau.
Yes, by my art, before th'art 12 houres older,
Ile ease thy heart, though neuer make it colder.

Exeunt.