 | Il pastor fido |  |
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?
| Il pastor fido | |