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Sce. 6.
Mirtillo. Corisca.[Mirtillo.]
Here weeping sprights of hell new torments heare,
New sorts of paine, a cruell mind behold
Included in a looke most mercifull,
My loue more fierce then the infernall pit,
Because my death cannot suffice to glut
Her greedie will, and that my life is but
A multitude of deathes commaund me liue,
That to them all my life might liuing giue.
Co.
Ile make as though I heard him not, I heare
A lamentable voyce plaine hereabouts,
I wonder who it is, oh my Mirtillo.
Mir.
So would I were a naked shade or dust.
Co.
How feele you now your selfe after your long
Mir.
Like a weake sick man that hath long desir'd
Forbidden drinke, at last gets it vnto his mouth
And drinks his death, ending at once both life & thirst.
So I long sicke, burn't and consumed in
This amorous drought, frō two faire fountains that
Ice do distill from out a rockie braine
Of an indurate heart,
Haue drunke the poyson that my life will kill,
Sooner then halfe of my desire fulfill.
Co.
So much more mightie waxeth loue as from
Our hearts the force is he receiues (deare Mirtillo)
For as the Beare is wont with licking to giue shape
To her mishapen brood, that else were helplesse borne.
Eu'n so a Louer to his bare desire,
That in the birth was shapelesse, weake and fraile.
Giuing but forme and strength begotteth loue:
Which whilst t'is young and tender, then t'is sweet,
But waxing to more yeares, more cruell growes,
That in the end (Mirtillo) an mueterate affect
Is euer full of anguish and defect.
For whilst the mind on one thought onely beates,
It waxeth thicke by being too much fixt.
So loue that should be pleasure and delight,
Is turn'd to malancholy, and what worser is,
It proues at last, or death, or madnesse at the least:
Wherefore wise is that heart that often changeth loue.
Mir.
Ere I change will or thought, chang'd must my life
Be into death, for though the beautious Amarillis
Be most cruell, yet is she all my life:
Nor can this bodies bulke at once containe
More then one heart, more then one soule retaine.
Co.
O wretched shepheard, ill thou knowst to vse
Loue in his kind, loue one that hates thee, one
That flies from thee, fie man, I had rather die.
Mir.
As gold in sire, so faith in griefe's refinde,
Nor can (Corisca) amorous constancie
Shewe his great power, but thorough crueltie.
My sole content doth my heart burne or die,
Or languish ne're so much, light are the paines.
Plaints, torments, sighes, exile, and death it selfe,
For such a cause, for such a sweet respect.
That life before my faith shall broken bee,
So worse then death I hold inconstancie.
Co.
O braue exploit, Louer magnanimous,
Like an enraged beast or sencelesse rocke,
There cannot be a greater damned plague,
More mortall poyson to a soule in loue,
Then is this faith. Vnhappie is that heart
That let it selfe be guld with vaine fantasune:
Of this erronious and vnseasonable
Disturber of these amorous delights.
Tell me poore man with this thy foolish vertue of constancie,
What lou'st thou in her that doth thee despise?
Lou'st thou the beautie that is none of thine?
The ioy thou hast not? the pittie thou wantst?
The reward thou dost not hope for? if thou deem'st right,
Thou lou'st thine ill, thy grief, thy very death,
Th'art mad to hunt thus that thou canst not haue.
Lift vp thy selfe (Mirtillo) happily thou wantst
Some choise of friends, thou finds none to thy mind.
Mir.
More deare to me is paine for Amarillis,
Then any ioy a thousand else can giue:
If me my fate, forbid her to enioy,
For me then die all other kinds of ioy.
I fortunate in any other kinde of loue?
No though I would I could not:
Nor though I could I would not.
And if I thought in any time henceforth
My will would wish or power obtaine the same,
I would desire of heau'n and loue at once
Both will and power might quite be ta'ne away.
Co.
Wilt thou then die for her that thee disdaines?
Mir.
Who pitie not expects doth feare no paines.
Co.
Do not deceiue thy selfe, perhaps thou think'st
And that she loues thee well for all this showe.
Oh that thou knewst what vnto me shee euer sayes
Mir.
All these are trophees of my truest faith,
With which I will triumph ouer her cruell will,
Ouer my paines, and my distressed chance,
Ouer worlds fortune, and ouer death it selfe.
Co.
(What would he do, did he but know her loue?)
How I bewaile thee wretched phrensie man:
Tell me didst thou e're any loue besides?
Mir.
She was my first, and she my last shall be
Co.
For ought that I can see you neuer try'd
Loue but in cruell moodes, but in disdaine.
Oh if you had but prou'd him one time kind,
Proue him but so, & you shal see how sweet a thing
It is t'enioy a gratefull Nymph; sheel'e you adore.
Shee'le make your Amarillis bitter to your taste
How deare a thing it is wholy to haue
What you desire, and be nought bard thereof.
Here your Nymph sigh to coole your scalding sighs,
And after say (my deere) all that you see is yours.
If I be faire, I am onely faire for you:
Onely for you I cherish these my cheekes.
My lockes, my brest, your deare hearts onely lodge.
But this (alasse) is but a brooke to that
Great Sea of sweets which we in loue might taste,
Which none can vtter saue by proofe.
Mir.
Thousand times blest that vnder such a star is borne.
Co.
Here me (Mirtillo) how like I was t'haue said
My heart a Nymph as gentle as the winde
Doth blow vpon with haire of glistering gold,
As worthy of your loue as you of hers,
Praise of these woods, loue of a thousand hearts,
By worthy youthes in vaine sollicited,
You onely loues more then her heart, her life,
If you be wise do not dispise her then.
She like a shadow to thy selfe will be,
A faithfull follower of thy footsteps euer,
All houres of day and night at thy commaund.
Do not forsake this rare aduenture then,
No pleasure in this earth so sweet as this,
It will not cost a teare, no not a sigh.
A ioy accommodated to thy will,
A sweetnesse temp'red sweetly to thy taste,
Is't not a treasure worth the hauing (man)?
Leaue then the feet of flying hopelesse trace,
And her that followes thee, scorne not t'embrace.
I feed you not with hopes of vanitie,
If you desire to see her, you shall see her straight.
Mir.
My hart's no subiect for these loues delights.
Co.
Proue it but once, and then returne againe
Vnto thy sollitary griefe, so may'st thou see
What are those ioyes that in loues pleasures bee.
Mir.
A taste corrupted, pleasant things abhors.
Co.
Be not you cruel yet to rob her life,
That on your eye, depends, you know what t'is
To beg with pouertie, if you desire
Pitie your selfe, do it not her denie.
Mir.
What pitie can he giue that none can get?
In summe I am resolu'd whilst here I liue,
To keepe my faith to her how ere she proue,
Cruell or pitifull, or how she will.
Co.
(Oh truly blind, vnhappie sencelesse man)
To whom preseru'st thou faith? trust me I am loth
T'augment thy griefe, but for the loue I beare thee
I cannot choose. Thinkst Amarillis is vnkind
For zeale she to religion beares?
Or vnto chastitie? Thou art a foole,
The roome is occupied and thou must weepe
Whilst others laugh. What? now th'art dumbe.
Mir.
Now stands my life in midst twixt life and death,
Whilst I in doubt do stand, if to beleeue,
Or not beleeue, this makes me so amaz'd.
Co.
You'le not beleeue me then?
(Mir.)
Oh if I do,
Straight shall you see my miserable end.
Liue wretched man, liue and reuenged bee.
Mir.
Oh no it is not true, it cannot bee.
Co.
Well theres no remedie, I must rehearse
That which will vexe thy heart. Seest thou that caue?
That is the true custodian of her faith
And her religion. There thee to scorne she laughes,
There with thy torments doth she sauce the ioyes
Of thy thrise happie riuall. There to be plaine
Thy faithfull Amarillis oft is wont
To dally in the armes of a base shepheard shue.
Go sigh, preserue thy faith, there's thy reward.
Mir.
Dost thou tell true Corisca? may I beleeue thee?
Co.
The more thou seek'st, the worse thou findest still,
Mir.
But hast thou seene this thing Corisca?
Co.
I haue not seen't, yet may'st thou if thou wilt,
For euen this day is order ta'ne this houre,
That they may meete. Hide thee but somewhere here,
And thou shalt see her first go in, then he.
Mir.
Then comes my death.
(Co.)
See where she comes
Softly descending by the Temples way. Seest thou her?
Do not her stealing feete bewray her stealing heart?
Attend thou here and thou shalt see th'effect.
Mir.
Since I am here, the truth I now will see,
Till then, my life and death suspended bee.
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