University of Virginia Library

I wake, and see, what I could wisht' have been
Born without eyes, that I might not have seen:
Or rather not to have been born. Curst Fate!
Why hast thou thus prolonged my lifes date,
To bring me to this killing spectacle?
Mirtillo, more tormented then in hell
The blackest soul is, not to doubt thy grief?
Not to be able to suspend beleif?
Thou, thou hast heard and seen't: thy Mistresse is
Another man's. And (which is worse) not his
Whose by the world's Laws she was bound to be,
But by Love's Lawes snatcht both from him and thee.
O cruell Amarillis! to undo
This wretched man, and then to mock him too
With that unconstant mouth which once did meet,
And once did call Mirtillo's kisses sweet:
But now his loathed name (which haply rose
Like bitter drink that 'gainst the stomack goes)
Because it should not bitternesse impart
To thy delight, hath spu'd out of thy heart?
Since therefore she who gave thee life, hath ta'ne
That life away, and given it again
'T another: why do'st thou thy life survive,
Wretched Mirtillo? Why art thou alive?

Dye, dye Mirtillo unto grief and smart,
As unto joy already dead thou art.
Dye, dead Mirtillo; since thy life is so,
Let thy pangs likewise be concluded. Go
Out of the anguish of this death, which still
Keeps thee alive, that it may longer kill.
But shall I dye then unrevenged? Sure
I'le slay him first that did my death procure.
I will dispense with my dire love of death
Till I have justly ta'ne away his breath
Who slew my heart unjustly. Yeeld stout grief
To anger, death to life, till in my life
I have aveng'd my death.
Let not this steel be drunken with the flood
Of its own Master's unrevenged blood:
Nor this right hand be Pitie's, till it hath
First made it self the Minister of wrath.
Thou that enjoy'st my spoyls (what ere thou be)
Since I must fall, I'le pull thee after me.
In the same brake I'le plant my self agen;
And when I spie him coming to the den,
Will rush upon him with this piercing dart
At unawares, and strike him through the heart.
But is't not base to strike him out of sight?
It is: defie him then to single fight,
Where valour may my justice prove. But no:
This place is unto all so known, and so
Frequented, that some swains may interpose:
Or (which is worse) enquire of me whence grows
Our quarrell; which if I deny, 'tis naught
They'l think; if feign a cause, I may be caught
Then in a lie; if tell't, her name will be
Blasted with everlasting infamie:
In whom, although I never can approve
That which I see, yet I must ever love
That which I fanci'd, and did hope t'have seen,
And that which ought (I'm sure) in her t'have been.
Dye basely then the base Adulterer,
Who hath slain me, and hath dishonour'd her.
I, but the blood may (if I kill him here)
The murther show, and that the Murtherer?
What do I care? I, but the murth'rer known,
Bewrays the cause for which the murther's done.
So this ungratefull woman runs the same
Hazard this way of shipwrak in her fame.
Enter the cave then, and assault him there.
Good, good; tread softly, softly, lest she hear:
That she's at th'other end her words imply'd.
Now (hid with branches) in the Rock's left side
There is a hollow at the steep stairs foot,
There without any noyse, I'le wait to put
In execution my designe. My foe
Dispatch'd, his bleeding carcasse I will throw
To my she-foe, to be reveng'd on two
At once. The self-same steel I'le then imbrue
In mine own blood: so three shall die in brief,
Two by my weapon, and the third of grief.
A sad and miserable tragedie
Of both her Lovers shall this Tigresse see,
Of him she loves, and him she scorns. And this
Cave which was meant the chamber of their blisse,
To her and to her minion shall become
And (which I more desire) t'her shame, a tombe.
But you dear footsteps (which I long have trac'd
In vain) unerring path, lead me at last
To where my Love is hid; To you I bow,
Your print I follow. O Corisca! now
I doe beleeve thee: now th'hast told me true.