 | Il pastor fido |  |
[Act. 4.]
SCE. 1.
Corisea.So fixed was my hart and whole intent
In bringing of this Deere vnto the bow,
That I forgotten had my dearest heire
That brutish villaine robd me of: Oh how I grieud,
With such a price to purchace mine escape:
But t'was of force to get out of the handes
Of that same senceles beast, who though he haue
Lesse hart then any Conny hath, yet might he do
Me many iniuries and many skornes.
I alwayes him despisd: whilst he had blood
In any of his vaines (like a Horse-leach)
I suckt him still. Now doth it grieue him that
I haue giu'n o're to loue him still; iust cause he had.
If one could loue a most vnlouely Beast,
Like hearbes that earst were got for holsome vse,
The iuice drawne out, they rest vnprofitable,
And like a stinking thing we them despise:
So him, (when I had what so ere was good suckt out
From him) how should I vse, but throw the saples trunke
Vnto the dunghill heape? Now will I see.
Yf Coridon be gotten close into the Caue.
What newes is this I see? Sleepe I or do I wakes
I am assurd this Caues mouth erst was ope,
How close tis shut? How is this auncient Stone?
Rould downe? was it an Earthquake since.
Yet would I know if Coridon were there
Certaine hee's there, for tis a good while since
Lisetta gaue him word. Who knowes the contrary?
T'may be Mirtillo moued with disdaine,
Hath done this deed, hee had hee but my minde,
Could onely haue perform'd this rare exployte.
Well by the Mountaines way will I go see,
And learne the troth of all how it hath past.
SCE. 2.
Dorinda, Linco.[Dorinda.]
Linco , I am assur'd thou knowst me not.
Lin.
Who would haue thought that in these rusty rags
Gentle Dorinda had been euer hid.
Were I some Dogge, as I but Linco am,
Vnto thy cost I should thee know too well.
VVhat do I see?
Dor.
Linco, thou seest great loue,
VVorking effectes both strange and miserable.
Lin.
One like thy selfe, so soft so tender yet,
That wer't but now (as one would say) a babe,
And still me thinkes it was but yesterday
Since in mine armes I had thee little wretch,
Ruling thy tender cryes, and taught thee too
To call thy Father Dad, thy Mother Mamme:
When in your house I was a Seruant hir'd,
Thou that so like a fearefull Doe wa'st wont
To feare earch thing before thou feltst this loue,
Why, on a sodaine thee would scarre each blast,
Each Bird that stird a bush, each Mouse that from
Her hole did run, each Leafe would make thee start,
Now wandrest all alone by hills, by woodes,
Fearing no Beast that hauntes the Forrestes wilde?
Dor.
Wounded with Loue, who feares another hurt.
Lin.
Loue had great power, that could not onely thee
Into a Man, but to a Wolfe transeforme.
Dor.
O Linco, could'st thou but see here within,
There should'st thou see a lyuing Wolfe deuoure
Lin.
And who's that Wolfe? Siluio.
Do.
Ah, thou hast said.
Lin.
Thou, for he is a Wolfe, hast changd thy selfe
Into a Wolfe because no humane lookes
Could mooue his loue, perhaps this beastes yet mought.
But tell me, where had'st thou these cloathes so ragd?
Do.
I'le tell thee true, to day I went betime
There where I heard that Siluto did intend
A noble hunting to the sauage Boore,
At Erimantus foote, where Elicett
Puts vp his head, not farre off from the lawnd,
That from the hill is seuer'd by discent,
I found Melampo my faire Siluioes Dogge,
Whose thirst I thinke had drawne him to that place:
I that each thing of Siluio held full deare,
Shade of his shape, and footsteps of his feete,
Much more the Dogge which he so dearely lou'd,
Him straightway tooke, and hee without adoo,
Like to some gentle Cade, came quietly with mee:
Now whilst I cast this Dogge to reconuey
Home to his Lord and mine, hoping to make
A conquest of his loue by guift so deare,
Behold he comes seeking his footsteps out,
And heere he stayes. Deare Linco I will not
Leese further time in telling euery thing
That twixt vs past, but briefly to dispatch:
After a heape of faigned vowes and wordes,
The cruell Boy fled from me straight away
In ire'full mood with his thrice-happy Dogge,
And with my deare and sweetest sweete reward.
Lin.
Oh desperate Siluio! Oh cruell Boy!
What didst thou then? Disdaind'st thou not his deed?
Dor.
As if the heate of his disdaine had been
Of loue vnto my hart the greatest fire,
So by his rage increased my desire:
Yet still pursuing him vnto the chace,
Keeping pursuing him vnto the chace,
Keeping my broken way, I Lupus met,
Heere thought I good with him to change my cloathes,
That mongst the Swaines I for a Swaine might passe,
And at my pleasure see my Siluio.
Lin.
Went'st thou to hunt in likenesse of a Woolfe,
Seene by the Dogges, and yet returned'st safe?
Domida, thou hast done inough.
Do.
Linco
No wonder t'is, the Dogges could do no harme
Vnto their Maisters preordeyned pray.
There stood I by the Toyles amongst a sort
Of neighbour Shepheards, come to see the sport,
Rather to see the huntsman then the game.
At euery motion of the sauadge Beast
My hart did quake: At each of Siluioes actes,
My soule stept out, push't on with all her will:
But my chiefe hope the fearefull fight disturb'd,
Of that immeasurable Boore in force,
Like as the rau'nous strength of sodaine storme
In little time bringes trees and rockes to ground:
So by his tuskes bedew'd with blood and foame,
VVe see Dogges slaine, Staues broke, and wounded men.
How many times did my poore blood desire
For Siluioes blood to combat with the Boore,
How often times would I haue stept to make
My brest a buckler for my Siluioes brest,
How often say'd I in my selfe, excuse,
Excuse the daintie lapp of my deare Loue:
So to my selfe spake I with praying sighes,
VVhilst he his Dogge all arm'd with hardned skin,
Lets loose against the Beast, who waxed proud
Of hauing made a wretched quarries sight
Of wounded Shepheardes and Dogges slaine outright:
Linco, I cannot tell this Dogges great worth,
And Siluio loues him not without good cause.
Looke how an angry Lyon entertaines
The poynted homes of some vndaunted Bull,
Sometime with force, sometime with pollicie,
And fallens at the last his mightie pawes
So on his backe as no powre can remou't:
The Boores swift strokes and mortall wounding blowes.
At last taints on his eare, which first he shakes,
And afterward so firmely him he holdes,
As his vast sides might wounded be at ease:
The dismall token of a deadly stroke,
The Siluio innocating Phœbes name,
Direct this blow (tayd he) and here I vow
To sacrifize to thee his gastly head.
This fayd, from out his quiuer of pure gold,
He takes a speedy Shaft and to his eare
He drawes his mighty Bow, and straight the Boore
Betweene his neck and shoulder wounded, dyes:
I free'd a sigh, seeing my Siluio safe.
Oh happy beast that mightst thy life so leaue,
By him that hartes from humane beastes doth reaue.
Lin.
But what became of that same fearefull beast?
Dor.
I do not know, because I came away
For feare of being seene: But I beleeue
That solemnly they meane to carry it
Vnto the Temple, as my Siluio vow'd.
Lin.
And meane you not to change these rustie cloathes?
Dor.
Yes wis full fame, but L[illeg.] hath my Gowne,
And promised t'attende me at this Spring,
But him I misse: deare Linco if thou lou'st me
Goe seeke him in these Woods, he is not farre,
I'le rest me in the meane time by this Den,
For weerinesse makes me to sleepe desire,
Nor would I home returne in this attire.
Lin.
I go, and stirre not you till I returne.
SCE. 3.
Chorus, Ergasto.Shepheardes, haue you not heard our Demi-God
Montanus, worthy sonne of Hercules discent,
Hath slaine the dreadfull Boore, that did infest
All Arcady, and now he doth prepare
To satisfie his Vowes, if we will thankefull bee
And giue him all the reuerence that we can.
Er.
Oh dolefull fortune! Oh most bitter chaunce!
Immedicable wounde, Oh mornefull day!
Cho.
What voyce of horror and of plaint heare wee?
Er.
Starres foomen to our good, thus mocke you vs?
Did you so high our hopes lift vp, that with
Their fall you might vs plague the more?
Cho.
This seemes Ergasto, and t'is surely hee.
Er.
Why do I Starres accuse, accuse thy selfe,
That brought'st the Yron to Loues Anuile so,
Thou didst it strike, thou mad'st the sparkes fly out
From whence this fire growes so vnquenchablet
But heauens do know my pittie brought me to't.
Oh haples Louers, wretched Amarillis,
Vnfortunate Titirus, childles father,
Sad Montanus, desolate Arcadia:
Oh miserable we; and to conclude,
All that I see, speake, heare, or thinke, most miserable.
Cho.
What wretched accident is this that doth containe
So many miseries? Gow' Shepheards Gow'!
Lets meete with him: Eternall heauenly powers,
Will not your rage yet cease? Speake good Ergasto,
What lamentable chaunce is this thou plainst?
Er.
Deare friendes, I plaine vs all the ruine of Arcadia.
Cho.
What's this?
Er.
The prop of all our hopes is downe.
Cho.
Ah speake more plaine.
Er.
Daughter of Titirus,
The onely branch of her decaying stocke,
Hope of our health, which to Montanus sonne,
Was by the heauens promist and destenied,
Whose marriage should haue freed Arcadia,
Wise Amarillis, Nimph celestiall,
Patterne of honor, flowre of chastetie:
My hart wil not giue me leaue to speak.
Ch.
Why, is she dead?
Er.
Nay doom'd to death.
Cho.
Ay me, what's this.
Er.
Nay worse, With infamie.
Cho.
Amarlllis infamous.
Er.
Found with the adult'rour, & if hence ye go not soone,
Ye may her see led captiue to the Temple.
Oh rare! but wicked, valure of this female sexe,
Oh chastetie, how singuler thou art,
Scarce can a man say any woman's chast,
Saue she that ne're was try'd; vnhappy age:
But curteous Shepheard, tell vs how it was?
Er.
This day betime you know Montanus came,
With th'naples father of the wretched Nimph,
Both by one selfe deuotion led, which was
By pray'rs, to haste the marriage to good end:
For this the Sacrifizes offered were,
Which solemnly perform'd with good aspectes:
For neuer were there seene intrailes more faire,
Nor flames more bright, by which the blind Diuine
Mooued, did to Montanus say: This day
With Amarillis shall your sonne be wed:
Goe quickly and prepare the marriage feast.
Oh blindly done, blind Prophets to beleeue,
The fathers and the standers by were glad,
And wept, their hartes made tender with this ioye.
Titirus was no sooner gone, but straight we heard
And saw vnhappy fearefull signes, the messengers
Of sacred ire: at which so sodaine and so fierce,
Each stood amaz'd, the Priestes inclosed were
VVithin the greater Cloysture, we without,
VVeeping were saying holy pray'res, when loe
The wicked Satyre audience earnest craues
Of the chiefe Priest: and for this was my charge,
I let him in, to whom he thus begins.
Fathers, if to your Vowes the Incense and
The Sacrifizes be not answerable,
If on your Aulters purely burne no flames,
Woonder not, for in Ericinaes Caue,
A treacherous Nimph prophanes your holy Lawes:
And in adultry her fayth doth breake.
Come Ministers with me, wee'le take in the fact.
A while th'vnhappy father breathes, thinking he had
Found out the cause of this so dismall signes,
Straight he commaundes chiefe Minister Nicander go
Them to the Temple both: him straight accompanied
With all our troupe of vnder Ministers,
The Satyre by a darke and crooked way,
Conductes into the Caue: the young-man scar'd
Without torch-light, so sodainely assail'd:
Assayes to fly vnto that outward issue,
But it the Satyre closed hath too fast.
Cho.
What did you then?
Er.
I can not tell you how
Amaz'd we were, to see her that we taken had,
To be Titirus daughter, whom no sooner we
Had layd hold on, but out Mirtillo steps,
And throwes his Dart, thinking to wound Nicander:
And had the steele hit as he did direct,
Nicander had been slaine: but shrinking backe,
Whether by chaunce or wit, he shund the harme:
But the strong Dart pierced his hayrie cloathes,
And there stucke fast, Mirtillo not being able
It to recouer, captiue taken was.
Cho.
What's come of him?
Er.
He by an other way is led.
Cho.
VVhat shall he do?
Er.
To get more out of him,
Besides, perhaps he shall not skotfree scape:
For hauing so offended our high Priest,
Yet would I could haue comforted the wretch.
Cho.
Why could you not?
Er.
Because the Law forbids
Vsunder Ministers to speake with gultie folkes:
For this I came about, and left the rest,
Prouoking heauens with teares and prayers deuout,
To turne away this dreadfull storme from vs:
And so pray yee, and there with all farewell.
Cho.
So shall we do, had we but once performd
Our duetie vnto Siluio, eternall Gods
In pittie, not in furie, shew your selues supreame.
SCE. 4.
Corisea.Now crowne my temples with triumphant Bayes,
Victorious ten ples, this day happely
And vanquished: this day both heauen and earth,
Nature and Art Fortune and Destenie,
Both friendes and enemies haue fought for mee.
The wicked Satyre whom I hated so,
Hath helpt me much: for it was better that
Mirtillo should, then Corion, be ta'ne,
To make her fault more likely and more ill:
VVhat though Mirtillo taken be, hee'le loone be free,
To her alone the punishment is due.
O solemne victorie, On famous triumph,
Dresse me a Trophee amorous deceites,
You in this toung, in this fame precious brest
Are aboue Nature most omnipotent.
VVhy stay I now? t'is time for me to go,
Vntill the Law haue iudg'd my riuall dead,
Perhaps the Priest may draw the troth from mee:
Fly then Corisea, daunger t'is to ly,
For them that haue no feete where with to fly:
I'le hide me in these woodes vntill I may
Returne t'enioy my ioyes: happy Corisea,
VVho euer saw a brauer enterprise?
SCE. 5.
Nicander, Amarillis.[Nicander.]
Hee had a hart most hard, or rather had
No hart at all, nor any humane sence,
That did not pittie thee poore wretched Nimph,
And felt no sorrow for thy miserie:
Onely to see a Damfell captiuate,
Of heauenly countenance and so sweete a face,
VVorthy the world should to thee consecrate
Temples and Sacrifices, led to the Temple
For a Sacrifice, surely t'were a thing
That with dry eyes I thinke none could behold:
But who knowes how and wherefore thou wert borne!
Titirus daughter, Montan'es daughter in law,
That should haue been, and that these two are they
A daintie Nimph, so faire of forme,
The naturall confines of this thy life,
Approachest now so neare the boundes of death:
Hee that knowes this, and doth not plaine the saine,
He is no man, but beast, in humane shape.
Am.
If that my fault did cause my wretchednesse,
Or that my thoughtes were wicked, as thou thinkst
My deed, lesse greeuous would my death be then:
For it were iust my blood should wash the spots
Of my defiled soule, heauens rage appease,
And humane iustice iustly satisfie,
Then could I quiet my afflicted sprights,
And with a iust remorse of well-deserued death,
My senses mortifie, and come to death:
And with a quiet blow passe foorth perhaps
Vnto a life of more tranquilitie:
But too too much Nicander too much grieu'd
I am, in so young yeeres Fortune so hie,
An Innocent, I should be doom'd to die.
Nic.
Ah pleasd it heauens we had gainst thee offended,
Not thou offended gainst the heauenly powers:
For we alas with greater ease might haue
Restor'd thee to thy violated name,
Then thou appeasd their violated powers:
But I see not who thee offended hath,
Sauing thy selfe. Tell me? wert thou not found
In a close place with the Adulterer, alone
With him alone? Wer't thou not promised
Vnto Montanus sonne? Hast thou not broke thy fayth?
How art thou innocent?
Am.
I haue not broke
The Law, and I am innocent.
Ni.
Thou hast not broke
The law of Nature happely (Loue if thou likest)
But humane law and heauens thou hast transgrest,
(Loue lawfully.)
Am.
Both heauens & men haue er'd to me:
If it be true that thence our haps do come,
For is it reason in my destenie,
I beare the paine that's due to other's faultes?
Peace Nimph, came vp thy toung in wilfull rage,
Let loose, do not condemne the Starres, for wee
Our selues procure vs all our miserie.
Am.
I none accuse in heau'n, but my ill fates.
And worse then them is shee, that mee deceiu'd.
Ni.
Then blame thy selfe, that hast deceiu'd thy selfe.
Am.
I was deceiu'd, but by an others fraude.
Ni.
T'is no deceite, to whom deceite is deare.
Am.
Then you I see condemne me for vnchast?
Ni.
I say not so, aske but your deedes, they're tell.
Am.
Deedes often are false tokens of the hart.
Ni.
The deedes we see, we cannot see the hart.
Am.
See what you will, I'am sure my hart is cleare.
Ni.
VVhat led you then into the Caue alone?
Am.
Simplicitie, and my too much beliefe.
Ni.
Trust you your Chastitie vnto your Loue?
Am.
I trusted my false friend, and not my Loue.
Ni.
VVhat friend was that, your amorous desire?
Am.
Orminoes sister, who hath me betrayde.
Ni.
Sweete trecherie, to fall into your loue.
Am.
I knew not of Mirtilloes comming I,
Ni.
VVhy did you enter then? and to what end?
Am.
Let it suffize not for Mirtilloes sake.
Ni.
You are condemn'd except y'haue better proofe.
Am.
Let her be asked of my innocencie.
Ni.
VVhat shee, that was the occasion of your fault?
Am.
Shee that betray'd mee, will you not her beleeue?
Ni.
VVhat fayth hath she that was so faythlesse then?
Am.
I by our Goddesse Cinthiaes name will sweare.
Ni.
Thy deedes haue mard the credite of thine oath:
Nimph, to be plaine, these are but dreames, and waues
Of muddy water, cannot wash cleane, nor guilty hartes
Speake troth; thou should'st haue kept thy chastitie
As dearely as the apple of thine eye.
Am.
And must I then thus (good Nicander) die?
Shall none me heare, nor none my cause defend?
Thus left of all, depriu'd of euery hope,
Onely accompanied with an extreame
Ni.
Nimph be content, and since thou wert so fond
In sinning, be more wise in suffering punishment:
Direct thine eyes to heau'n, thence art thou come,
And thence doth come all good or ill that haps,
As from a Fountaine doth a streame descend:
And though to vs it ill do seeme, as eu'ry good
Is mingled with some ill, yet there t'is good.
Great Joue doth know to whom all thoughtes are knowne:
So doth our Goddesse whom we worshyp heere,
How much I grieue for thee: and if I haue
Piers't with my wordes thy soule, like a Phisicion I
Haue done, who searcheth first the wound
VVhere it suspected is: be quiet then
Good Nimph, and do not contradict that which
Is writ in heau'n aboue of thee.
Am.
O cruell sentence, whether writ in heau'n
Or earth? In heau'n it is not writ,
For there miue innocencie is knowne: but what
Auailes it since I needes must die? Ah too too hard,
And too too bitter cupp. Ah good Nicander,
For pittie sake make not such haste with mee
Vnto the Temple! stay, Oh stay a little while!
Ni.
O Nimph, to whom death is so greeuous now,
Each moment seemes a death, it is thine ill to stay:
Death hath not so much harme, feare thereof;
Thou sooner dead, thy paine is sooner past.
Am.
Some helpe may come, deare father: father now
Dost thou leaue me, now leaue thine onely child.
VVilt thou not helpe me yet before I die?
Do not deny me yet thy latest kisse:
One blade shall wound both brestes, and out of mine
Thy blood must streame. Oh father! Oh sweete name
Sometime so deare which I ne're calld in vaine,
Make you your onely daughters marriage thus,
A morninges Bride, an euening Sacrifize?
Ni.
Nimph, Do not thus torment thy selfe and me,
T'is time I lead you to the Temple now,
Am.
Deare Woods farewell, my dearest Woods farewell,
Receiue my latest sighes vntill my soule
By cruell wound from this my body free,
Returne to seeke your loued shadowes out:
For Innocentes can not be doom'd to hell,
Nor mongst the blessed can despayrers dwell.
O Mirtillo, wretched was that day
That first I saw thee, and thy sight did please,
Since I my life must leaue, more deare to thee
Then thine, which prooues the occasion of my death.
VVilt thou beleeue that she is doom'd to death
For thee, that cruell euer was to thee,
To keepe me innocent? For mee too bold,
For thee too little daring was my will: how euer t'was,
I faultles die, fruitles, and without thee
My deare I die, my deare Mirt.
Ni.
Surely shee
Is dead and in Mirtilloes loued name her life
Hath finished: her loue and griefe the blade
Preuented hath: come helpe to hold her vp,
Shee lyueth yet, I feele her hart doth throb:
Carry her to the Fountaine here hard by,
Fresh water may restore her stonied sprights,
But were it not a deed of pittie now,
To let her die of griefe, and shun the blade:
No let vs rather succour now her life,
Wee do not know what heau'ns will do with her.
SCE. 6.
Chorus of Huntsmen. Chor. of Shepheardes with Siluio.Chor. Hunt.
O glorious child of great Alcides race,
That Monsters kilst, and Wild-bestes dost deface.
Cho. Sh.
O glorious child, who Erimantus Boore
Hast ouerthrowne, vnconquerable thought:
Behold his head, that seemes to breath out death,
Helpe Shepheardes helpe to celebrate his name,
And with solemnitie his deedes to grace.
Cho. Hu.
O glorious child of great Alcides race,
That Monsters kilst, and Wild-bestes dost deface.
Cho. Sh.
O glorious child, by whom the fertile plaines,
Depriu'd of tillage, haue their good regain:
Now may the Plough-man goe securesie, and
Sow both his Seede, and reape his Haruest in:
These ougly teeth can now no more them chace.
Cho. Hu.
O glorious child of great Alcides race,
That monsters shilst, and wild Beastes dost deface.
Cho. Sh.
O glorious child, how thou dost couple still
Pittie with fortitude. Cinthia behold
Thy humble Siluioes, vow; behold this head,
That here and here in thy despight is armd
With white and crooked tuskes, enuying thy hornes.
Thou puissant Goddesse, since thou didst direct
His shaft: the price of his great victorie
Is due to thee: hee famous by thy grace.
Cho. Hun.
O glorious child of great Alcides race,
That monsters kilst, and wild Beastes dost deface.
SCE. 7.
Coridon.Vntill this time I neuer durst beleeue,
That which the Satyre of Corisea said,
Imagining his tale had been but fordg'd,
Maliciously to worke me iniurie:
Far from the troth it seemd to mee that place,
VVhere she appoynted I with her should meete,
(If that be true which was on her behalfe,
Deliuered me by young Lisetta late)
Should be the place to take th'Adultiour in:
But see a signe that may confirme the same,
Eu'n as he told mee, so it is in deed.
Oh what a Stone is this, which shuts vp thus
All in good time I haue found out your guiles,
Which after so long vse, at last returne
VVith damage to your selfe. So manie lies,
So many trecheries, must needes presage
Some mortall disaduenture at the least,
To him that was not madd, or blinde with loue:
T'was good for meet stayde away so long,
Great fortune that my father me detain'd
So with a tedious stay, as then me thought,
Had I kept time but as Lisetta bad,
Surely some strange aduenture had I had.
What shall I doe? shall I attir'd with spleene,
Seeke with outragious furie for reuenge?
Fie no, I honour her too much: so bee
The case with reason waighd; it rather would
Haue pittie and compassion, then reuenge.
And shall I pittie her, that me betrayes?
Shee rather doth betray her selfe, that thus
Abandons mee, whose fayth to her was pure,
And giue her selfe in pray
To a poore Shepheard straunger vagaband,
That shall tomorrow be more perfidous then shee.
Should I according to the Satyres counsell, her accuse,
Of the fayth broken, which to mee shee swore:
Then must shee die: My hart's not halfe so base,
Let her then liue for mee: or to say better,
Let her die vnto mee, and liue vnto others:
Liue to her shame, liue to her infamie;
Since she is such, she neuer can in me
Kindle one sparke of fearefull iealowsie.
SCE. 8.
Siluio.O Goddesse, that no Goddesse art, but of
An idle people, blinde and vaine: who with
Impurest mindes and fond Religion,
Hallowes the Aulters and great Temples too.
Or beastly deedes, to colour their dishonest actes
With titles of thy famous Deitie,
Because thy shames in others shames made lesse,
Let lose the raines of their lasciuiousnesse.
Thou foe to Reason, plotter of misdeedes,
Corrupter to our soules, calamitie
To the whole worlde; thou daughter of the Sea,
And of that treacherous monster rightly borne,
That with the breath of hope dost first borne,
That with the breath of hope dost first intice
These humane brestes, but afterward dost mooue
A thousand stormes of sighes, of teares, of plaintes:
Thou mayst be better calld Mother of tempestes and
Of rage, then Mother of Loue:
To what a miserie hast thou throwne downe
Those wretched Louers? now mayst thou vaunt thy selfe
To be omnipotent, if thou canst saue
That poore Nimphs life, whom with thy snares thou hast
Conducted to this miserable death.
O happy day I hallowd my chast minde
To thee my onely Goddesse Cinthia,
Such power on earth to soules of better sort,
As thou art light in heau'n aboue the Starres.
Much better are those studious practises
Then those which Venus vnchast seruantes vse:
Thy seruantes kill both Beares and ougly Boores,
Her seruantes are of Beares and Boores still slaine.
Oh Bowe and matchles Shaftes, my power and my delight,
Vaine fantastiue Loue, come prooue thyne armes,
Effeminate with mine: but fie ,too much
I honour thee poore weake and wreckling child,
And for thou shalt me heare, I'le speake aloud.
A rod to chastise thee will be inough,—ynough,
VVhat art thou Eccho that so soundes againe?
Or rather Loue, that answerest loudly so?—y so.
I could haue wisht no better match; but tell
Me then, Art thou (by heauen) hee—eauen hee
The sonne of her that for Aaenis did
A Goddesse? no, the Concubine of Mars,
In whom lasciuiousnesse doth wholly lye.—wholly a lye.
O fine, thy tongue doth clacke against the warre,
Wilt thou come foorth? thoughts: but darkly dare—y dare,
I helde thee for a coward still, art thou a bastard too
Dost thou that title brauely skorne—y skorne.
O God, then art thou Uulcares sonne, by that
Lame Smith begot.—God.
A God? of what? of Winds, nadd with base mearth—earth.
God of the earth? makes thou thy toes to rue:—t'iue.
VVith what dost thou still punish those that striue,
And obstinately do contende with Loue?—with Loue.
Nay soft, when shall crook't Loue(tell me good foole)
Enter my brest? I warrent t'is too straight:—straight,
What, shall I fall in loue so sodainely?—sodainely,
What is her name that I must then adore?—Dore.
Dorinda foole, thou canst not speake out yet,
But dost not thou meane hers—ee'n her.
Dorinda whom I hate; but who shall force my will;—I will.
What weapons wilt thou vse? perhaps thy Bow,—thy Bow
My Bow? not till it be by thy leawd folly broken,—broken
My broken armes incounter me, and who
Shall breake them? thou?—thou.
Fie fie thou art drunke, goe sleepe goe sleepe: but stay,
These maruailes must be done: but wheare?—heare.
O foole, and I am gone, how thou art loden with
Wit-robbing Grapes that grew vpon the Vine.—Diuine
But soft, I see, or els mee thinkes I see
Something that's like a Woolfe in yonder Groue.
T'is sure a Woolfe: How monstrous great it is.
This day for me is destenied to prayse:
Good Goddesse, with great fauours dost thou shew
To triumph in one day ouer two Beastes:
In thy great name, I loose this shaft, the swiftest and
The sharpest which my Quiuer holdes.
Great Archeresse, direct thou my right hand,
And here I vow to sacrifize the spoyles
Eu'n where my hand and eye it destenyed.
Ah that I had my Dart, it to dispatch,
Before it get into the Woodes away.
But heere be Stones, what need I any else?
Heere's scarcely one, I need none now: heere is
Another Shaft will pierce it to the quicke.
What's this I see? vnhappie Siluio?
I'haue shot a Shepheard in a Woluish shape.
O bitter chaunce! O euer miserable!
[illeg.] lee thinkes I know the wretch, ti's Linco that
Doth hold him vp. Oh deadly shaft! Oh most
Vnhappie Vow! I guiltie of another blood?
I thus the causer of anothers death?
I that haue been so liberall of my life,
So large a spender of my blood for others health?
So, cast away thy weapons, and go liue
All glorilesse. But see where he doth come,
A great deale lesse vnhappy then thy selfe.
SCE. 9.
Linco, Siluio, Dorinda.[Linco.]
Leane thou thy selfe (my Daughter) on this arme.
Vnfortunate Dorinda.
Sil.
O mee! Dorinda? I am dead,
Der.
O Linco Linco, Oh my second father!
Sil.
It is Dorinda sure: Ah voyce, ah sight.
Dor.
Dorinda to sustaine, Linco hath been
A fatall office vnto thee: thou hardst
The first cryes that I euen gaue on earth,
And thou shalt heare the latest of my death:
And these thine Armes, that were my Cradle once,
Shall be my Coffin now.
Lin.
O child more deare
Then if thou wer't mine owne. I cannot speake,
Griefe hath my wordes dissolued into teares.
Sil.
On earth hold ope thy iawes and swallow mee.
Do.
Oh stay both pace and plaint(good Linco) for
The one my griefe, my wound the other doth increase.
Oh what a hard reward most wretched Nimph,
Hast thou receiued for thy wondrous loue?
Lin.
Be of good cheer, thy wound not mortall is.
Dor.
I but Dorinda mortall, wilbe quickly dead:
But dost thou know who t'is hath wounded me?
Lin.
Let vs care for the lore, not for the offence,
For neuer did Reuenge yet heale a wound.
Sil.
Why stay I still? Shall I stay whilst they see me?
Haue I so bold a face! Fly Siluio fly
The punishment of that reuengefull sight,
Fly the iust edge of her sharpe cutting voice:
I cannot fly, fatall necessitie doth hold
Me heere, and makes me seeke whom most
I ought to shunne.
Dor.
Why Linco, must I die
Not knowing who hath giuen me my death?
Lin.
It Siluio is.
Dor.
Pitio.
Lin.
I know his shaft.
Dor.
On happie issue of my liues last end,
If I be slaine by such a louely friend.
Lin.
See where he is, with countenance him accusing.
Now heauens be praysd, y'are at good passe,
VVith this your bowe and shaftes omnipotent,
Hast thou not like a cunning Wood-man shot?
Tell mee, thou that of Siluio liust; was it no: I
That shot this daintie shoore? Oh Boy too wise,
Hadst thou bileeu'd this foolish aged man,
Had it not better been Answere me wretch.
What can thy hie be worth, if shee do die?
I know thou'le say thou thoughtst t'haue shot a Woolfe,
Although it were no fault to shoote
Not knowing (carelesse wandring chi'd) if t'were
A man or beast thou shorrt act what Heardsman, or
What Ploughman dost thou see attyr'd in other cloathes?
Ah Siluio, Siluio, who euersoweth witt so greene,
Doth euer reape ripe fruite of ignorance.
Thinke you (vaine Boy) this chaunce by chaunce did come?
Neuer without the powers deuine did such like happen:
Heauen is enrag'd at your supportlesse spight,
To loue and deepe despising so humane affectes.
They are not pleasd with this austeritie:
Now thou art dumbe, thou wert not wont t'indure.
Do.
Siluio let Linco speake, he doth not know
What sou'raignetie thou o're Dorinda hast,
In life and death by the great power of Loue.
If thou hast shot me, thou hast shot thine owne:
Thou hitst the marke that's proper to thy shaft,
These handes that wounded me, haue follow'd right
The ayme of thy faire eyes. Siluio, behold her whom
Thou hatest so, behold her, as thou wouldst:
Thou wouldst me wounded haue, wounded I am:
Thou wish't me dead, I ready am for death,
What wouldst thou more? What can I giue thee more?
Ah cruell Boy, thou neuer wouldst beleeue
The wound by thee Loue made, canst thou deny
That which thy hand hath done? thou neuer sawst
The blood mine eyes did shed; seest thou this then,
That gusheth from my side: but if with pittie flow
All gentlenesse and valoure be not spent,
Do not denie me cruell soule, I pray,
At my last gaspe, one poore and onely sight
Death should be blest, if thou but thus wouldst say,
Goe rest in peace poore soule, I humbly pray.
Sil.
Ah my Dorinda, shall I call thee mine,
That art not mine, but when I thee must loose:
And when thou hast thy death receiued by mee,
Not when I might haue giu'n thee thy life:
Yet will I call thee mine, that mine shalt bee
Spight of my fortune: and since with thy life
I cannot haue thee, I'le haue thee in death:
All that thou seest in me, is ready for reuenge:
I kilde thee with these weapons, with the same
I'le kill my selfe: I cruell was to thee,
I now desire nothing but crueltie
I proudly thee despis'd, vpon my knees
I humbly thee adore, and pardon craue;
But not my lyse: Behold my Bowe, my Shaftes.
But wound my brest, monster to pittie, foe
To loue: wound me this hart, that cruell was
To thee: behold, my brest is bare.
Do.
Siluio, I wound that brest? thou hadst not need
Let it be naked to mine eyes, if thou desirdst
I should it wound. O daintie beauteous rocke,
So often beaten by the waues and windes
Of my poore teares and sighes in vaine: and is it true,
Thou pittie feelst? or am I wretch but mockt:
I would not this same Alablaster skin
Should me deceiue, as this poore Beastes hath thee.
I wound thy brest? t'is well, Loue durst do so.
I aske no wore reuenge, then thou shouldst loue.
Blest be the day wherein I first did burne,
Blest be my teares and all my martirdomes:
I wish thy prayse, and no reuenge of thee.
But curteous Siluio, that dost kneele to her,
Whose Lord thou art; since mee thou needes wilt serue,
Let thy first seruice be, to rise when I thee bid:
The second, that thou liu'st: for mee, let heauens
Worke their will; in thee my hart will liue:
As long as thou dost liue, I cannot die.
But if it seeme vaiest my wound should be
Vnpunished, then breake this cruell Bowe,
Let that be all the mallice thou dost show.
Si.
Oh curtuous doome: and so't shalbe,
Thou deadly Wood shalt pay the price of others life,
Behold, I breake thee, and I render thee
Vnto the Woodes, a trunke vnprofitable:
And you my Shaftes that pierced haue the side
Of my faire Loue, because you brothers bee
I put you both togither, and deliuer you,
Roddes armd in vaine, and vainely feathered.
T'was true Loue tolde me late in Ecchoes voyce.
O powerfull tamer both of Gods and men:
Late enemie, now Lord of all my thoughtes,
If thou esteemest it glory to haue mollified
The fatall stroke of death' one onely blow
Killing Dorinda, will me with her kill:
So cruell death, if cruell death she proue,
Will triumph ouer thee triumphant loue.
Lin.
So wounded both, yet woundes most fortunate,
Were but Dorindaes sownd. Let's soone go seeke
Some remedie.
Dor.
Do not good Linco lead
Me to my fathers house in this attire.
Sil.
Shall my Dorinda go to other house
Then vnto mine? no sure: aliue or dead
This day I'le marrie thee.
Lin.
And in good time,
Since Amarillis hath lost life and marriage too.
O blessed couple! O eternall Gods!
Giue two their liues, giuing but one her health.
Dor.
Siluio I weary am, I cannot hold me on
My wounded side.
Sil.
Be of good cheere,
Thou shalt a burthen be to vs most deare.
Linco giue me thy hand.
Lin.
Hold there it is.
Sil.
Hold fast, and with our armes wee'le make a seate
For her. Sit there Dorinda, and with thy right hand
Hold Lincoes necke, and with thy left close mine:
Softly my hart, for rushing of thy wound.
Dor.
O now mee thinkes I am well.
Sil.
Linco hold fast.
Lin.
Do not you stagger, but go forward right,
This is a better triumph then a head.
Sil.
Tell me Dorinda, doth thy wound still pricke?
Dor.
It doth; but in thine armes my louelie treasure,
I hold eu'n pricking deare, and death a pleasure.
Chorus.
O sweete and golden age, when Milke
Unto the tender World was meate:
Whose Cradle was the harmelesse Wood,
Their dearer partes whose grasse like silke,
The Flockes vntoucht, did toy to eate:
Nor feard the World the spoyle of blood,
Did not then make a cloudy vaile
To dimme our sunnes eternall light:
Now Reason being shut up quight,
Cloudes do our Wits skies ouer-haile:
From whence it is straunge landes we seeke for ease,
Ploughing with huge Oake trees the Ocean seaes.
This bootlesse superstitious voyce,
This subiect profit lesse then vaine,
Of ioyes, of titles, and of sleight,
Whom the mad World through worthlesse choyce,
Honor to name doth not disdaine,
Did not with tyranny delight,
To rule our mindes, but to sustaine
Trouble for troth, and for the right
To maintaine fayth a firme decree
Amonst us men of each degree,
Desire to do well was of right:
Care of true Honor, happy to be named,
Who what was lawfull pleasure to us framed.
Then in the pastures grouy shade,
Sweete Carroles and sharpe Madrigale.
Were flames vnto deare lawfull Loue:
There gentle Nimphes and Shepheards made
Thoughts of their wordes, and in the dales
Did Himen ioyes and kisses moue,
Farre sweeter, and of more behoue,
True louers onely did enioy
Loues liuely Roses and sweete Flowers,
Whilst Wily-craft found alwayes showers,
Showers of sharpe will, and wills annoy:
Were it in Woodes or Caues for quiet rest,
The name of Husband still was liked best,
Ealse wicked World, that courrest still
With thy base mercenary name
The soules chiefe good, and dost entice
To nourish thought of new found Will,
With likelihoodes restrained againe:
Like to a Net layde by deuice
Among faire Flowers and sweet spread Leaves,
Thou cloathst vilde thoughtes in holy weedes,
Esteeming seeming goodnesse deedes,
By which the life with Art deceiue:
Nor dost thou care (this Honor is thy act)
What these it be, so Loue may hide the fact.
But thou great Honour, great by right,
Frame famous spirits in our hartes,
Thou true Lord of each Noble brest:
O thou that rulest Kinges of might,
Once turne thee into these our partes,
Which wanting thee, cannot be blest:
Make them from out their mortall rest,
With mightie and with powerfull stinges,
Who by a base vnwarthy will
Haue left to work thy pleasure still,
And left the worth of antique thinges:
Let's hope our ills a truce will one day take,
And let our hopes not wauer no nor shake:
Let's hope the setting sunne will rise againe,
And that the skyes when they most darke appeare,
Do dravv (though couer'd) after vvished cleare.
Finis Cho. Act. 4.
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