University of Virginia Library

Scen. 3.

Thestylis. Amyntas. Mopsus.
The.
Would to Ceres
She would be pleas'd at length to end her anger,
And pitty poore Amyntas!

Cl.
So pray I.

Amy.
I have the bravest spaniell in the world,
Of a sharpe sent and quick. so ho ho, so ho ho!
Ringwood, Iowler, Whitefoot, so ho ho! so ho ho!

Mop.
I shall be a whole kennell of dogs anon.

Amy.
Iuno, Vulcan, Venus! so ho ho, so ho ho!

Mop.
Lord what a heavenly puppy he makes me now!

Amy.
There Lady there!

Mop.
Ha? be their Lady-dogs as well as Lady-birds too!

Amy.
Beauty, Beauty.

Mop.
Slid I was never cal'd that name before:
Thestylis, Amyntas calls me Beauty,
I prethee come kisse mee.

The.
Thus I spend my life
Laughing amidst my teares.

Amy.
Now Vertue Vertue!

Mop.
Is that a dogs name too? would I were hang'd
If I'le have any of it for that trick.

Amy.
Dost thou not sent it yet? Close, close you rogue!
By Pan the curre hunts counter.

Mop.
Oh good master! Bow wow, bow wow wow—

Amyn.
So now he has't again.
What at a fault you mungrell? will you never
Start me this Oracle?

Mop.
Start an Oracle?
As if an Oracle were a hare?

Amy.
So 'tis,
And skuds away so swift we cannot take it.
Start me this Oracle.

Mop.
Start it who's will for mee,
For I'le not start it.

Amy.
Then unkennell it.

Mop.
Vnkennell it?

Amy.
I, tis a Foxe a Foxe,
A cunning crafty rogue: no body knowes
Which way to finde him, ha? what sent is this?
Dost thou not smell?

Mop.
What?

Amy.
The meaning of the Oracle?
Vnkennell it, or I will lease thee.

Mop.
Good sir,
I have no skill in starting or unkennelling,
But if you'l have me spring an Oracle.—

Amy.
And wilt thou doe it? spring me then this Oracle!

Mop.
I that I will, my skill lies all in birds,
Whose flight I feare I have observ'd so long
That I am metamorphos'd to a spaniell.

Amy.
Looke how my hawke of understanding soares
About the Partridge Oracle!—ill luck!
Tis at retreat againe.

Mop.
O shall I never
Rid me of this misfortune! (thankes good omen)
Cras, cras she saies, to morrow 'twill be better.
A Crow cawes.
Black bird I thank thee!

Claius to them.
The.
Litle thinks the wretched Claius now
How sad a life his poore Amyntas lives!

Cl.
Too well unto his griefe.—I'le goe unto him
And follow him in his humor:—You have got
A dainty spanniell, sir.

Amy.
I think the world
Cannot afford his equall.

Cla.
What breed is hee?

Amy.
True Spartan I'le assure you.

Cl.
Was the sire
Of the same Country?

Amy.
No, as I remember
He was an Irish Grey-hound, but the damme
Came of Acteons brood.

Cl.
As how I pray?

Amy.
Why thus; Melampus was the sire of Lælaps,
Lælaps to Lagon, Lagon to Ichnobates,
Ichnobates to Pamphagus, and Pamphagus
To Dorceus, he to Labros, that was sire
To Oresitrophus, Oresitrophus
To fleet Theridamas, Theridamas
To swift Nebrophonos, Nebrophonos
To the quick-nos'd Aellus; he to Dromas,
Dromas to Tygris, Tygris to Orybasus,
Orybasus to Pterelas, he to Nape,
The damme of Mopsus.

Mop.
So then Orybasus
Was my great grandfather. Though I be a Dog,
I come of a good house. My Ancestors
Were all of Noble names past understanding.
What a brave man's my Master! where learn'd he
All this? Ne're stirre now I could find in my heart
To leave my Augury and study Heraldry;
A man I think may learn't as well as t'other,
Yet never fear of growing too wise upon't.
And then will I record the pedegree
Of all the dogs i'th' world. O that I had
The Armes of all our house by th'Mothers side!

Cl.
Sir I have brave things in a Basket for you.
Give me your Dog, and you shall have 'em all.

Amy.
Take him.

Mop.
O heavens! and shall I change my master,
One mad man for another?

Amy.
Curre be quiet,
I have said it, and my will shall be a law.

Mop.
O good sir, for Melampus sake, and Dorceus
Lælaps, Ichnobates, Lagon, Melanchetes,
Labros, Nebrophonos, Oresitrophus,
Tygris, Orybatus, Therydamas,
Aellus, Dromas, Nape, and the rest
Of all my Noble ancestors deceas'd,
Be mercifull unto me! Pitty pitty
The only hope of all our family.

Cl.
Sir, can he fetch and carry?

Amy.
You shall see him.
Fetch sirrah:—there:—the curre is runne away,
Helpe me to catch my dog: you'l bring you mungrell?

Mop.
Yes much! the birds will not advise me to it.

Exit.
The.
Sylvan why gaze you on us? would you frolike
With poore Amynta's madnes; 'twould ill beseem you
To make our griefe your pastime.

Cl.
Not I by heaven!
My joyes are counterfeit, my sorrowes reall:
(I cannot hold from weeping) ah you know not
What griefe lies here within, (teares you'l betray me!)
Give me my eye full of this noble sheapheard!
Who hath not heard how he hath chac'd the boare!
And how his speare hath torne the panch of wolves.
On th'barke of every tree his name's ingraven.
Now Planet struck, and all that vertue vanish'd.

The.
Thy lookes are fierce, thy words bespeak thee Gentle.

Amy.
Why wep't he Thestylis!

The.
I did not marke him.

Amy.
It was a mote in's eye: I'le kisse it out;
I'le curle thy shackl'd locks, and crispe thy haire
Like the streight-growing Cypresse. Come let's put
Our heads together. Thou art more then mortall,
And shal't expound to Ceres what she askes.
It is a gallant Sylvan, Thestylis.

Cl.
I am not skill'd in riddles, no interpreter
Of Divinations, but dare contend
With any Empyrick to doe a cure,
Whether the body or the minde be sick.
That is my study, I but crave the leave
To try the powre of art upon this sheapheard.
If Æsculapius be propitious to him,
After the dew of one nights softer slumbers,
I dare be bold to say he shall recover.

Amy.
My dog againe? dost read it in the starres?
What a strange man is this?

Cl.
Thy wits, Amyntas,
I meane; O cast thy armes in my embraces,
Speak carefull Nymph how came he thus distracted?

Amy.
I doe you meane? with a very-very-very mad trick.—
By making verses.

Cl.
Rest rest deluded fancy!

The.
There was a time (alas that ere it was.)
When my poore sheapheard fell in love.

Cl.
With whom?

The.
The starre of beauty, Pilumnu's much admir'd Vrania.

Cl.
O the crosse darts of fate!

The.
Shee sweet Nymph inlodged
The casket of his love in her own bosome,
But Ceres set a Dowry. Out alasse
Would shee had ask'd our flocks, our kids, our groves!
Would she had bid us quench the flames of Ætna
In Arethusa's streames, it had been easy.
We fight with words and cannot conquer them;
This her Imperious Ompha ask'd, and Thunder'd
That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have
Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave.
To finde out her commands, he lost himselfe.

Cl.
Your storie's pittifull: Tis my profession
To wander through the Earth, and in my Travell,
I am inquisitive after the sick to heale 'em;
Their cure and kind acceptance is my pay.
You will not fear to lodge me for a night?

The.
We have but homely hospitality.

Amy.
Ile feast thee with some Venison, brave Montano.

Cl.
Thy restitution is my feast Amyntas,
Your curdes and chestnuts and your country fare
Is bounteous for so meane a guest as I:
But send for that Vrania her sweet voice
Must sing a Lullaby to drowne his senses,
And charme soft sleepe upon his troubled phancy.
And 'fore the gray-eyd morne doe peepe, be confident
I'le put the musique of his braines in tune.

Cl.
You'l call Vrania.

The.
Doubt not sir, I will.
Or send my servant Mycon by the Vale.

Amy.
Come Sylvan, if the dogs doe barke I'le braine 'em;
Wee'l sleepe to night together, and to morrow,

Cl.
Will end I hope thy madnesse, not my sorrow.

Amy.
Wee'l goe a hunting, so ho ho! so ho ho!

Exeunt.
Mopsus from the Orchard.
Mop.
Are the mad dogs gone yet?
A little more would have perswaded mee
Into a spaniell: and I may be one
For any thing I know: yet sure I am not
Because methinkes I speake; but an this speaking
Should be but barking now: if I be a dog
Heaven send me a better Master then the former.
Ceres defend me, what strange Elves are there!