University of Virginia Library

Enter Hobinal, Clout, Tarbox, and Collin, driven in by two Furies.
Clout.

Bless us, how dark it is, ne'er a Star to be seen; not one pretty
little Goldy lock'd Planet to comfort us; we have made fine
work on't, this comes of mutining against the Gods, and disparaging our
bright shining Lady Cynthia; we have done rarely, han't we; I always
thought what would be the end on't: Ah Collin, Collin, thou deserv'st to
be hang'd by Jupiter.

Tarb.

Ay, the truth is he deserves to be hang'd for us all, he was the
Ringleader, 'twas he that was so sawcy to say, he would dwindle the Gods
into Constables; for my own part, I always thought 'em fit to be Justices
of the Peace, or Churchwardens at least.

Low.

If I had thought 'twould e'er have come to this, I should ne'er have
been so free of giving my Verdict, for to speak truth, when I did it, my
Conscience rambled up and down in my Stomach, I spoke the word against
my will.

Collin.

You spoke the words against your will! ye lie, y'are a Cuckold,
and take that, Sirrah, you spoke the words as freely as a poor Tumbrill
Whore does the Matrimony, when she has got a Cully with an Estate to
marry her.

Hob.

Wou'd I had let the Satyr have done what he would with my
Daughter, rather than by calling your assistance, make the Deities so angry,
and the Night so dark, that I can't find the way to my Wife, tho'
he had put her to the squeak a little, if she had but kept her own Councel,
'twould ne'er have spoil'd her Match, the Girl wou'd have done well
enough, my Son Clout wou'd have ne'er an Inch the less of her.

Clout.

Gads Diggers, I had rather Buddy had been brought to bed of a
whole Litter of Satyrs, than that pure Barrel of Stingo strong Beer shou'd
piss all about the Celler so, for my not having light enough to stop the Fosset:
a Wife often brings a Man a Cup of Discontent, but that wou'd have
afforded a Brimmer of Comfort at any time.

Collin.

Here's a Fellow for ye; this Rogue has not been marry'd so long
a time as a Mid-wife would be making a Bowl of Punch, yet cares not so

his Barrel of Stingo have a safe Spiggot and Fawcet, if his Wife's Firken
were tap'd by the Devil.

Tarb.

Ay, ay, we ought to complain, and curse ye too for offending our
gracious Cynthia: gad I believe you have made her fall into fits with vexing,
and that's the reason she won't shine.

Low.

Ye have all less reason to complain for want of her than I; for I
am lam'd about it; I broke both my Shins in the dark, falling over a great
Form yonder, then presently run my Face against the corner of a Pale, and
broke out three of my Teeth, and in two Minutes after tumbling down
Stairs, fell into a confounded Celler last night.

Collin.

Ah! I into a damn'd deep Well, this Morning, but what then,
I'm as sturdy as ever: and a fig for a Moon shine, we'll do our work by
day light, and honest Will o'th' Wisp shall light us to bed instead of her.

Clout.

Gads Diggers, and I'll say'r, now Collin, you're a sawsy Fellow,
and I remember what you said before of Cynthia, when you call'd her Jilt:
but you shall find now, some are wiser than some, Gads diggers, I'll peach.

Collin.

Why then you shall find some are richer than some, I'll bribe off
your evidence with a full bag, and then what becomes of your Peaching,
Puppy.

Hob.

Ay, but I fancy, do y'hear, these burnt Brandy Drinkers that
wait upon us will take no clipt Money, so that you wou'd bubble them,
and for us, we know ye too well, to trust.

Collin.

Why if they come from the Devil, as by their looks I'm apt to
believe they do; 'twill serve to melt down well enough; I know their
way of Trade

Tarb.

Ay, here comes one will discover whether his Coyn be currant
or no, presently; 'tis God Mercury, who I hear is ordered to impeach us
and hurry us to tryal.

Collin.

Ay, let them try what they can; I'll get one witness or two out
of the way, I'll warrant ye.

Enter Mercury.
Merc.

How now, what are these the Rogues that Minos and Radamanthus
have sent for to try and punish about defying the Deists?

Clout.

An please your Worship, your Lordship, your Dukeship, your
Godship; my Lord, we are poor ignorant People, and have been very
much seduced, and please ye, we have been confoundedly led by the Nose,
as the saying is.

Collin.

Led by the Nose, hold your peace, Cato's head.

Merc.

What, then it seems you are the Champion to defend their Iniquities:
come let's hear, what do you say?

Collin.

Nothing.

Merc.

You can look sawcily I perceive, what are you? hah.

Collin.

I don't know; look ye shan't catch me.

Merc.

How, Sirrah, not know your self.

Collin.

No, may be I don't know my self, but I believe I know you,
I'm no Thief.

Merc.

No Thief, Sirrah.

Collin.

No, I say, I'm no Thief, peoples Spoons and Forks may lie in
quiet for me, make the best of that again, I say.

Merc.

You are a rare sawcy Slave indeed; Sirrah, do you know who I
am.

Collin.

Yes, I think I do, and harkee, don't you believe because you
are a God, that you should play the Devil with me; nay never frown for
the matter; lookee, I don't fear ye, and if you'll do any thing upon the
square, say but the word, I'm ready; why you are no more than one of
us, now mun.

Merc.

'Tis very well Rascal; but sure we shall hamper ye.

Collin.

We; ay, I thought you wou'd want help; and I'll try if I can
match your Cock, faith harkee Brother, thou look'st:
[To one of the Furies.
stand by me, and let him send for his Brother Mars if he will, we'll thrash
him, I'll warrant thee.

Hob.

Ah, 'tis likely they'll take your part, did you ever hear such a sawcy
Rogue, Neighbours let's knock him down.

Collin.

Say ye so; nay if the Gods and Devils are reconcil'd, here's like
to be a strange World; but come, fall back, fall edge; I'll stand to't till
my Stampers fail me; come all together if you will, I'll have a brush with
ye, faith, I'll ne'er go to Goal tamely, not I, Zoons, I'll thump some of
you.

Merc.

You that expect favour from the Judges, seize him, and bring him
away.

Collin.

Why Tarbox, Clout, why Hob, Slaves, Nincompoops; ah, ye
cowardly Rogues, Zooks give me fair play, and bring half a Dozen of
your shamakin Gods, I'll drub 'em, bring Jupiter, I'll break his head, I'll
Cuckold him; fair play, fair play ye Rogues.

[Exeunt.
Scene changes to the Grove where Endimion lies.
Enter Syrinx.
Syrinx.
Horror surrounds me wheresoe'er I go,
And each green Covert seems the seat of Wo:
Tremblings and Fear do all my Spirits seize;
And as I walk, methinks amongst the Trees,
Damon peeps out and mocks my Miseries.
Oh that I could from Fate Endimion save,
Or could expell the Poyson that I gave;
But 'tis too late to wish it.

Enter Cupid.
Cupid.
This is she,
Whose canker'd Malice, Pride and Treachery,
Has made me use her as my Property:
Her Envy true desert to none allows,
But still to all her Sex base Rancour shows;
I'll try her with my Psyche's character;
I'll pardon all if she prove just to her.

Syrinx.
What lovely Youth is this?

Cupid.
Bright Virgin may
A harmless Boy desire your patient stay,
To tell him where he may fair Psyche find:
Fair Psyche, she too charming, too unkind:
For I have wandered all the live long day,
And stranger to these Groves, have lost my way.

Syrinx.
Close by a Brook that glides through yonder Meads,
Abeaten Path to Cynthia's Palace leads,
There you may find the Dwody you think fair.

Cupid.
Think so sweet Nymph, why then does any there,
Any of Cynthia's Nymphs with her compare:
Pray speak. for I'll believe it from your Tongue,
Another I should think might do her wrong:
Is she not wondrous beautifull?

Syrinx.
She's young.

Cupid.
Young as the Infant-Blossoms of the Spring,
And fragrant as the Odors which they bring.
The season smiles whene'er she walks abroad.
She's all divine; a Mistriss for a God.

Syrinx.
Whate'er she is, you are in Love I find,
All Colours are alike to those are blind.

Cupid.
My Eyes are not so blind, but I can see
A Heavenly Beauty.

Syrinx.
Who has such Beauty?

Cupid.
She.

Syrinx.
Alas poor Child, you must instructed be.

Cupid.
'Mongst Cynthia's Stars has there a brighter shone?

Syrinx.
Ye Novice; yes, a thousand,—I am one.

Cupid.
But then her Innocence you must allow;
No guilt e'er sully'd yet her Snowy Brow.
A Virgin Vertue from all Vice so free,
There's nothing purer in Divinity.

Syrinx.
That creature well may for a Vertue pass,
And innocent that no Temptation has.

Cupid.
Has she not Charms that every heart does rule?

Syrinx.
Charms, thou mean'st Freckles, pish, the Boy's a Fool;
Her Legs are crooked.

Cupid.
Hah!

Syrinx.
Her Eyes are sore.

Cupid.
Monstrous.

Syrinx.
A Dowdy, as I said before.

Cupid.
Be dumb, abhorr'd Detractor speak no more;
But swift Destruction for thy Malice find,
Thou venom'd Vermin of the Serpent kind;
Psyche shall be as far above thy fate,
As at this Moment she's above thy hate;
Which to confirm,—my self I this make known,
I am the God of Love.

Syrinx.
And I undone.

Cupid.
I rule all hearts in Earth or Heaven above,
And thou the worst that e'er hadst grace to love,
In my revenge shall fall unpitied.

Syrinx.
Stay;
[Kneels.
Oh turn not thus thy charming Eyes away;
But hear me speak and mitigate thy hate:
Repentance to a God ne'er came too late.

Cupid.
No, thy vile Sin deserves severest pain,
Who dares infringe the Laws that I maintain,
Makes the great end of her Creation vain.
The envious Fair has Beauty worse bestow'd;
I'll punish thee, to shew I am a God.
[Exit Cupid.

Syrinx.
He's gone, the Monarch of our Soul is gone,
And leaves me here to hate my self alone.
Cynthia by him will my late mischiefs know;
But let him tell, more obstinate I'll grow;
More ills to guard the first I will pursue,
And shew what Woman when provok'd can do:
I'll to my doting Lover Pan repair,
Wheedle and make him by his God-head swear,
That I am guiltless of that curst Affair;
And see he comes in th'opportunity,
As fit as Hell approv'd my Policy.
Now Female subtilty inspire my Brain,
And let not Woman have a Wit in vain.

Enter Pan.
Pan.
What have you done, why was the fatal Drug,
By me design'd so well, so ill employ'd?
Now by my Heards this act so much hath wrong'd me,
I curse your Beauty and my foolish Grant.

Syrinx.
When you once know the Justice I have done you,
You'll thank me for the deed, he was your Rival.

Pan.
My Rival.

Syrinx.
A most pernicious one, a close Pursuer;
I ne'er cou'd rest in quiet for him.

Pan.
Villain, I care not then if he were dead:
[Angrily.
But is it possible you cou'd do this for me?

Syrinx.
I cou'd do any thing for him I love.

Pan.
And do you love me.

Syrinx.
Do I love my Soul.

[Passionately.
Pan.
My Life.

[Kisses her hand.
Syrinx.
My Heart.

Pan.
She stings me more and more:
I'm mad, she never was so kind before;
She's now my own, and meets my Love with Passion.

Syrinx.
Oh, thou sweet Devil, dear Dissimulation.

[Aside.
Pan.
What shall I do for thee?

Syrinx.
One thing particularly:
When Cynthia summons us about this business,
As 'tis most like she will, be sure t'excuse me,
Vouch and declare that I am innocent,
You are a God, and I a poor weak Woman;
One that has many Foes and want your help;
Do this and boldly, I am yours for ever.

Pan.
Yes, I will do it, tho' the Oracle roar
In Thunder louder than a teeming Cloud:
I will my self expound the mistick meaning,
And turn it upon any one but thee;
For thee, Apollo I'll once more abuse,
And save my Love, tho' I my Godhead lose.

Enter Mercury.
Merc.
I'm sorry that I bring so ill a Message;
But know from th'mighty Thunderer I come,
To summon both of you to make appearance,
Before the bright Assembly of the Gods;
Apollo will again be deifi'd:
And being join'd with Cupid has impeach'd ye
Of poys'ning Endimion; I have command
To bring ye instantly.

Pan.
Jove must be obey'd:
But who interpreted the Oracle?

Merc.
Apollo privally to Cynthia, who makes his peace
With Jove, come the time wasts.

Pan.
Well, well, I go:
They soon will find my Innocence is pure;
I never poyson'd him.

Syrinx.
Nor I, I'm sure.

[Exeunt.
Enter Psyche.
Psyche.
I that was wont to tremble at the night,
In solitary darkness now delight:
Welcome, a welcome then thou friendly shade,
That hid'st the sorrow of a love-sick Maid:
Tho' all the Stars withdraw their Lustre now;
And fate sits cloudy upon Cinthia's brow;
Since her Eclipse, tho' black Saturnia reigns,
Whilst gazing Nations wonder what it means;
Yet this dear secret benefit is wrought;
Darkness is fittest for a Lover's thought:
Where art thou, thou dear subject of my sighs,
Where dost thou hide thee from my longing Eyes,
And yet convey such Charms into my breast,
That since I saw thee wou'd not let me rest.
Hah, who comes here, by that majestick Mein,
Clouded in sorrow, it show'd be the Queen
Going to see Endimion.

Enter Cynthia Veil'd, a Paper in her hand.
Cynthia.
Heaven's decree,
Sure can no scandal to my Vertue be:
Unerring sacred Oracles relate,
That I am Mistriss of Endimion's fate;
And that a Kiss can a new life create:
A Kiss; ye Powers must divine Cynthia be
A Sacrifice to mens necessity?
My Lips have yet their sacred Sweets retain'd,
And with unhallow'd touch was ne'er prophan'd:
And shall they now that glory lose, oh never;
Rather than so, Gods, let him sleep for ever.
Who's there.

Psyche.
'Tis I.

Cynthia.
My Psyche.

Psyche.
Yes.

Cynthia.
Alas!
What fortune brings thee to this mournfull place;
Thy happy hours no stormy cares invades:
Content Love's light, 'tis greif that seeks the shades.

Psyche.
Of that a weighty share I challenge too,
For Madam, I do hourly grieve for you:
Some little sorrow my own cause I lend,
But much more grief for you, my Queen.

Cynthia.
Your Friend.

Psyche.
How long must we in dreadfull Shades abide?
How long will th'starry Qeeun her Lustre hide?
What says the Oracle? pray give me leave
To know the Mystery, and why you grieve.

Cynthia.
Sweet Innocence, the Cause will soon appear,
And therefore all my Discontents read there;
'Tis th'Oracle that shews me to prolong
Endimion's life, but does my Virtue wrong.

Psyche
reads.]
When she, whose Figure's like the World's vast frame,
That's always one, yet never is the same:
Constant, yet waving still, when most encreas'd;
Descends to Kiss, and make Endimion blest.
Then that which seems like death shall take
No more effect, but he that sleeps shall wake.

Psyche.
Oh, ye immortal Pow'rs, what's this I read?
If this be true, if it be so indeed.
Upon the Truth my lasting Joy does move;
For when she Kisses him, I gain my love.
[Apart.
Now I remember well, 'twas so decreed.

Cynthia.
Now tell me, am I fit for such a deed?
Does such an action suit my state and name?

Psyche.
Yes, and 'twill add to your eternal fame.
[Eagerly.
Great Jove will crown it, you'll the pattern be,
Of noble Justice, sacred Clemency.

Cynthia.
Rather disgrac'd, that I shou'd stoop so low.

Psyche.
Ah, Madam, if you love me, do it now.

Cynthia.
How concern'd she is.

Psyche.
Alas, what harm can there be in a kiss,
A touch, a nothing, hardly worth a name;
So innocent, so hurtless to your fame.
That harmless Doves I've seen in sunny weather,
To coo and kiss for half an hour together:
Nay, I have don't, nor thought Lips less sweet,
A thousand times to my dear Paraquite.

Cynthia.
Tho' not my Lips, my Honour may be wrong'd.

Psyche.
Ah, never since Endimion's life's prolong'd:
A pitying Glance on the poor Youth afford;
Think how by him great Cynthia was ador'd.
By him your Statues was with Garlands crown'd;
And tho' no favour in your Eyes he found,
By him you still was lov'd, and still renown'd.

Cynthia.
If he aspires to me, his Love's a fault.

Psyche.
Not when it comes no farther than a Thought.
Ah, Madam, at your feet does Psyche lie.
[Kneels to her.
Kiss him, pray kiss him—now presently.

Cynthia.
Her Zeal, poor Girl, is half turn'd Lunacy.
Let me consider—

Psyche.

[Here enters an Antimask of Nations, of Arabs, Indians, Moors, with Noisy Instruments in their Hands; Nymphs, Rivers attending.
SONG, by a Druid.
[A Dance here of Arabs, Indians, Moors, &c. which done, all kneel.
[Cynthia comes on.]
Cynthia.
Virtue with pity shou'd be still endow'd;
'Tis a rank Vice in Greatness to be proud.
What tho' the World that I'm a Goddess know,
Fix'd in a sphere so high, and he so low:
Yet my conspicuous Grandure must not be
Example for relentless Cruelty.
Besides, the Oracle of Jove has said
It must be so, and Jove must be obey'd.
Psyche, thou hast prevail'd.

Psyche.
Oh happy Hour.

Cynthia.
And now you Deities, and every Power
That love the night, days coming lustre chace,
And shade the glowing blushes of my face.
Let Phæbus close confin'd this minute be;
Attractive Thetis, keep him in the Sea;
Till I this strange unusual thing have done,
And the effect of Jove's Command have shewn.
Take this Kiss, which Oracles ordain;
Take what no Mortal did before obtain;
Nor ever, after thee, must hope again.

[Kisses him, he awakes.
Cupid.
The sacred Touch divine Impression makes;
See, from his deadly Swoon the Youth awakes:
Let him his Heaven find in Cynthia's Charms;
My Heav'n's on Earth, whilst Psyche's in my Arms.

Psyche.
Ah! can this beautious Vision then be true!
[Runs eagerly and embraces Psyche.
My dear dear Charmer, am I sure 'tis you?

Cupid.
'Tis I, thou sweet Perfection of thy Kind;
Ah, round thy Waste, let me like Ivy bind.

[Embracing.
Psyche.
But how? what shall I call my Heart's best Joy?

Cupid.
Call me the Soveraign of Sympathy.
But if my common Title thou would'st know,
The God of Love; all humanes call me so.
With better Title grac'd, now being thine,

[Embracing her.
Psyche.
The God of Love; was ever Fate like mine?
[Embraces and kisses him.
Now with my Sex can I with Pride look down,
And above Mortal Bliss can prize my own.
They still must with short scraps of Joy dispence;
But here, for ever, I'm the Quintessence.

[Agen embrace.
Cupid.
To the glad World the Light's restor'd agen.

[Endimion comes forward.
Endim.
Where am I now! what Visions have I seen!
My Heart yet throbs with the Remains of Joy,
That blest my Sence, and entertain'd my Eye:
Eternal Groves, all flourishing and gay;
Refreshing Bloom, and everlasting Day.
Upon a lucid Mount, methought I sate,
And saw the sacred Mysteries of Fate.
Beheld the Furies chase Earth's impious brood,
Whilst Gods were coyning Blessings for the good.
But now, methinks, I feel my wonted Pain
Shaking, to mortal Cares return'd again.
Yet who a Pain can know when Cynthia's by?
Oh my full heart!

Cynthia.
Endimion, yes, 'tis I,
Whose pity was too great to see you lie
So long entranc'd: but how? how came you charm'd?

Endim.
What your Eyes left undone, your Drug perform'd.

Cynthia.
My Drug! he raves: and I th'Infection take.

Endim.
Admire not, Madam, Miracles you make.
Syrinx from you the fatal potion brought.

Cynthia.
From me! Oh impious Wretch, let her be sought;
By all my Stars I ne're had such a Thought.

Endim.
Then I am happy beyond mortal Bliss;
For 'tis a Torment to me I confess,
To think great Cynthia was the Poysoner
Of poor Endimion, for Adoring her.
The Heavenly Powers
On Reprobates their Furies exercise,
But cast no Thunder on the Votaries:
Besides, my Love had so much privity,
It cou'd not lessen you, tho' it exaled me.

Cupid.
Since Harmony Alarms every thing below,
Let Songs of Love, Life's darling Blessing show.

[Enter Zephirus and Iris, and Sing.]
Second Movement.
Zeph.
Humours most obstinate Love changes soon.

Iris.
Love puts the harshest discord into tune.

Zeph.
Inspires the sordid, makes the Miser fine.

Iris.
Turns humane cares into a bliss divine:
'Tis all transporting Joy, and charms the Heart;
'Tis all in all, and all in every part.

Chorus of both.
'Tis all transporting, &c.

Enter Apollo Deified with a Crown of Stars, with Daphne guarded, and a young Shepherd.
Apollo.
Endimion, take this Crown, and put it on;
The King of Gods adopts thee for his Son:
Wonder not, but receive the Gift from me;
The next to this is Immortality.
Thy sacred Vertues are proclaim'd above,
Even in the high and dazling Court of Jove;
Who will himself descend to honour thee.

Endim.
So much devotion to the grace belongs,
I must in Blushes pay my gratitude.

Apollo.
And now, since the great Thunderer has endued
Me with new Power, and from the Race of Men
Translated me into a God agen,
Th'Affronts and Injuries I lately bore,
I purpose to revenge.

Cynthia.
You have the Power.

Apollo.
Look then upon this slander to her Race;
This very Devil—with an Angel's face:
False, as a Harlot's Tears, to gain her Will,
Or an old Rebel, Politician's Zeal.
True, Woman, like the first Mankind betray'd,
When Hell and she their precious bargain made.
This Creature, this fair piece of Cruelty;
I blush to speak it, was belov'd by me;
The Mistress of my Soul, and fond Desires,
Till her vain folly quench'd my hallow'd fires.
I was the subject of her scorn and pride;
Jest, and a thousand Vanities beside.
But see the Woman's cheat in being coy;
This seeming Virtue, with a down-cast Eye,
I found this Morning courtlng of a Boy:
Pratling warm Love, applauding his rare Feature,
Prompted by all the Furies in her Nature.
This mov'd my Rage, and by the Powers above,
Refusing me, she shall no other love.

Cynthia.
To everlasting Shades I her condemn;
First for refusing you, then loving him.

Daph.
Oh fatal Sound, oh cruel Goddess too,
Upon my Knees thus let me rooted grow,
[Kneels.
Untill this horrid Sentence you repeal.

Apollo.
To hope compassion, and yet none to feel;
What confidence is this?

Daph.
Ah, calm your hate.
[In a soft Tone.
You once was kinder in your Mortal state.
Am I grown old? and do my Charms abate?

Apollo.
Ah, flattering Mischief—think not to regain
Affection lost—I was a Lover then,
That fed your Pride, and bred you to be Vain.
Nay, so divine a Passion I could boast;
My love supply'd the heaven I had lost:
But no return, no gratitude I met;
You must be coy:

Daph.
I but dissembl'd it.
You say yourself it is the female cheat.

Apollo.
You cannot love, pursue the Humour still:

Daph.
Forgive me now, and if I can, I will.

[Tenderly kneeling.
Apollo.
What, your young Minion here, for him you'll try?
No, I'll not trust your Sex's fallacy.
This is the chosen Darling you adore,
And I am to be flatter'd for my Power.
Away, this last Affront's too great to bear;
The Wretch, I'll not forgive, I will not hear.
Your Sex shall know, that Heaven your Beauty gave;
Not to oblige the fool, or fortune's slave,
But to reward the witty, and the brave.

Daph.
Why then Rage on, and your worst Anger prove;
My stubborn fix'd Resolve it ne'er shall move.
Opinion throws a Mist ore Womens Eyes;
And none but those we like, to us are wise.
Witty or brave, not pleasing is defy'd;
Thus till our Inclination bows our Pride;
Will is our Law, and Fancy is our Guide.

Apollo.
Why, farewell Womankind, and welcome Rest,
That has so long been banish'd from my Breast.
'Tis proper now to plant new Glory there.
Welcome kind Hermes.

Enter Mercury, with Pan and Syrinx, guarded.
Merc.
From yon starry Sphere
Jove sends his strict and dread Commands by me,
That Syrinx be accus'd of th'Infamy
Of Poys'ning Endimion.

Cynthia.
Be not seen.
[Exit. Endimion.
Whilst I examin her.

Syrinx.
Night's Illustrious Queen!
How comes it that I must bear this Insolence,
Where Pan can justifie my Innocence?

Cynthia.
Does Pan affirm it?

Pan.
Yes, and more can prove.
When this was done, she was in yonder Grove.

Merc.
Sheering your Sheep, or listning to your Love,
On what Employment, Son?

Apollo.
The horrid Act,
By Drugg or Potion had its curs'd Effect:
And sure, of such a Drugg, I've heard you speak.

Syrinx.
Then all our former cunning is too weak.
Mischief assist me.

[Aside.
Cynthia.
In excusing her,
You make your self the Hellish Poys'ner;
For 'tis undoubted you or she must do it.

Syrinx.
Then since it must be so, the truth shall out.
Much I'm concern'd a Rural Deity,
So highly priz'd, should be accus'd by me.
But since I now am forc'd to speak the truth,
'Twas Pan that Poyson'd the much-injur'd Youth.

Pan.
By Hell I'm finely caught.

Syrinx.
Through jealous Nature,
That I admir'd Endimion's shape and feature.
Unruly Love urg'd him to act this Evil:
Indeed I pity him—

[Weeps.
Pan.
Oh, cunning Devil.
Is this your Love? is this your Constancy?

[To her apart.
Syrinx.
Talk not of Love, I always hated thee.

[Apart.
Pan.
And yet you swore your Vows all constant were.

Syr.
Dull fool, will you believe us when we swear?
[Apart.
'Tis our design to cheat you when we Vow.

Pan.
There is not such a Fury sure below.
But why thou Fiend on me, this curs'd disgrace?

Syrinx.
Because I wanted then just such an Ass;
Such a fond loving Fool.

Pan.
Thou front of Brass,
Didst not thou do it?

[Aloud.
Syrinx.
Alas, he's now quite mad;
Pray let some get the drivelling God to bed.
See, see; he Raves!

Cynthia.
What Riddles do I hear?
Come forth, Endimion, let the truth appear.

Syrinx.
Nay, if he be reviv'd, my case is clear.
The Mischief can no longer wear disguise;
Vain are my Arts, and useless all my Lyes.
But stubbornly I will defy their Power,
And from this hated Moment speak no more.
Confession to exclude, I'll thus lock fast
My Lips, and shew true Woman to the last.

Cynthia.
Endimion, speak.
And as you hope a future grace from me,
Boldly declare the truth who did it.

Endim.
She.

[Pointing to Syrinx.
Cynthia.
Yet you are guiltless, and do nothing know;
Winds bear her hence to Caves of Frost and Snow:
She shall be judg'd, and for this spightfull deed;
To morrow be transform'd into a Reed.

Apollo.
And she, for whom the God of Wit once mourn'd,
Proud Daphne to a Laurel shall be turn'd:
The Minion to a Bramble growing by:
Away with them, I will hear no reply.

[Ex. Daph. Syrinx, &c.
Cynthia.
Come, let's to Jove, who is, I see, descending,
And mingle with our fellow Deities:
For now on Earth nothing but Joy must be,
Whilst great Latona's Off-spring thus agree.