University of Virginia Library

Scena quinta.

Nicandro, Amarillis.
Nic.
A heart of flint, or rather none had he
Nor humane sense, that could not pitie thee,
Unhappy Nymph! and for thy sorrow grieve
The more, by how much lesse they can believe
This should befall thee, who have known thee best.
For were it but to see a Maid distrest
Of venerable count'nance, and that show'd
So vertuous and so excellently good;
One that for heav'nly beauty merited
Temples and Sacrifices, to be led
Unto the Temple as a Sacrifice,
Who could behold it without melting eyes?
But he that should consider further, how,
And for what purpose thou wert born; That thou
Art Daughter unto Titiro, and shoud
Have married been unto Montano's bloud,
(Two the most lov'd and honour'd shall I say
Shepherds, or Fathers of Arcadia?)
And that being such, so great, so famous, and
So beautifull a Nymph, and that did stand
By nature so remote from thy death's brink,
Thou shouldst be now condemn'd. He that doth think
On this and weeps not, wails not thy mishap,
Is not a man, but wolf in humane shape.

Am.
If my mishap had come through mine own fault,
And the effect had been of an ill thought
As of a deed that seems ill, it had been
Lesse grievous to mee to have death pay sinne;
And very just it were I should have spilt
My bloud to wash my impure soul from guilt,
To quench Heav'ns wrath; and since man too had wrong,
Pay what to human justice did belong:
So might I still a crying conscience,
And mortifi'd with a due inward sense
Of deserv'd death, render my self more fit
To die, and through that purgatory get
Perchance to Paradise. But now in all
My pride of youth and fortune thus to fall,
Thus innocent, is a sad case, a sad—
Nicandro.

Nic.
Nymph, would to Heav'n men had
Sinn'd against thee, rather then thou 'gainst Heav'n.
For satisfaction might be easier giv'n
To thee for thy wrong'd Fame, then unto it
For its wrong'd Deities. Nor know I yet
Who wrong'd thee but thy self. Wert thou not caught
Alone with the adult'rer in a vault?
To Silvio precontracted wert not thou?
And so thy nuptiall faith hast broken? How
Then innocent?

Am.
For all this have not I
Transgrest the Law: and innocently dye.

Nic.
Not Natures law perchance, Love where thou wilt.
But that of Men and Heav'n, Love without guilt.

Am.
Both men and Heav'n (if all our fortune be
Deriv'd from thence) transgrest have against me.
For what but an ill destiny could bid
That I should die for what another did?

Nic.
What was that Nymph? bridle thy tongue (with highflown
grief transported ev'n to blasphemie).
“The ils we suffer our own sins pull down:
“Heav'n pardons many wrongs, but it doth none.

Am.
I blame in Heaven onely my own starre:
But one that hath deceiv'd me, more by farre.

Nic.
Then blame thy self, thy self thou didst deceive.

Am.
I did when I a coz'ner did believe.

Nic.
“They who desire to be deceiv'd, are not.

Am.
Dost think me naught?

Nic.
Nay ask thy actions that.

Am.
“Actions are oft false comments on our hearts.

Nic.
“Yet those we see, and not the inward parts.

Am.
“The heart may be seen too with th'eys o'th'mind.

Nic.
“Whithout the senses help those eyes are blind.

Am.
“The senses must submit to reasons sway.

Nic.
“Reason in point of fact must sense obay.

Am.
Well; I am sure an honest heart I have.

Nic.
Prethee who brought thee then into the cave?

Am.
My folly and too much credulity.

Nic.
Thou trustedst with a friend thy honesty?

Am.
I trusted a friends honestie.

Nic.
Thy blood?
Was that the friend thou wouldst have understood?

Am.
Ormino's Sister, who betraid me thither.

Nic.
“'Tis sweet when Lovers are betraid together.

Am.
Mirtillo enterd without my consent.

Nic.
How enter'dst thou then? and for what intent?

Am.
Let this suffice, 'twas not for him I came.

Nic.
It cannot, if no other cause thou name.

Am.
Examine him about my innocence.

Nic.
Him? who hath been the cause of thy offence?

Am.
Call her to witnesse who betraid me hath.

Nic.
Why should we hear a witnesse without faith?

Am.
By chast Diana's dreadfull name I swear.

Nic.
Thou by thy deeds art perjur'd unto her.
Nymph, I am plain, I cannot flatter thee
Into a hope which in extremitie
Will leave thee more confounded; these are dreams:
“A troubled fountain cannot yeeld pure streams,
“Nor a bad heart good words. And where the deed
“Is evident, Defence offence doth breed.
What dost thou talk? thou shouldst have guarded more
Then thy life now, thy chastitie before.
Why do'st thou cheat thy self?

Am.
O miserie!
Must I then dye, Nicandro? must I dye?
None left to hear? none to defend me left?
Of all abandon'd? of all hope bereft?
Onely of such a mocking pity made
The wretched object as affords no aid?

Nic.
Be patient Nymph, and give me cause to tell,
Though thou didst ill, yet that thou suffredst well.
Look up to heav'n, since thence thou drawst thy birth;
“All good or ill we meet with upon earth
“From thence as from a fountain doth distill.
“And as no good is here unmix'd with ill,
“So punishment, that's ill to flesh and blood,
“As to th'accompt we must make there is good.
And if my words have cut thee, 'tis but like
A faithfull Surgeon, who a vein doth strike,
Or thrusts his instrument into the wound
Where it is mortallest and most profound
(In being cruell, mercifull). Then be
Content with what is writ in Heav'n for thee.

Am.
O 'tis a cruell sentence, whether it
In heaven for me, or in earth be writ:
Yet writ in heav'n I'm certain it is not:
For there my innocence is known. But what
Doth that avail me, if that dye I must?
That's the straight narrow passage! to be dust,
Nicandro, that's the bitter cup! But oh!
By that compassion thou to me dost show,
Lead me not to the Temple yet: stay, stay.

Nic.
“Who fears to dye, dyes ev'ry hour o'th'day.
Why hang'st thou back? and draw'st a painfull breath?
“Death hath no ill in't, but the fear of death.
“And he that dies when he hath heard his doom,
“Flyes from his death.

Am.
Perchance some help may come.
Father, dear father, dost thou leave me too?
An onely daughters father, wilt thou do
Nothing to save me? Yet before I die
A parting kisse to me do not deny.
Two bosoms shall be pierced with one blow:
And from thy daughter's wound thy blood must flow.
O father! (once so sweet and deer a name,
Which I was never wont t'invoke in vain)
Thy belov'd Daughter's Wedding callst thou this?
To day a Bride; to day a Sacrifice.

Nic.
Good Nymph no more: why dost thou bootlesly
Stay thus tormenting both thy self and mee?
The time calls on: I must convey thee hence,
Nor with my duty longer may dispense.

Am.
Deer woods adieu then, my deer woods adieu:
Receive these sighs (my last ones) into you,
Till my cold shade, forc'd from her seat by dire
And unjust steel, to your lov'd shades retire.
(For sink to hell it can't, being innocent;
Nor soar to heav'n, laden with discontent.)
Mirtillo, (O Mirtillo!) most accurst
The day I saw, the day I pleas'd thee first!
Since I, whom thou above thy life didst love,
Became thy life, that thou my death mightst prove.
She dies condemn'd for kindnesse now to thee,
Whom thou hast still condemn'd of cruelty,
I might have broke my faith as cheap: Ay me!
Now without fault, or fruit I dye, or Thee
My deer Mirtill—

Nic.
Alas! she dies indeed.
(Poor wretch!) Come hither shepherds with all speed,
Help me to hold her up. (O piteous case!)
She finish'd in Mirtillo's name her Race.
(Unhappy maid!)—she breathes yet, and I feel
Some signes of life pant in her bosome still.
To the next fountain let us carry her;
Perchance cold water may recover there
Her fleeting spirits.—Stay, will not relief
Be cruelty to her who dies of grief,
To prevent dying by the Axe? How-e're,
Yet let not us our charitie forbear.
“Men ought to lend their aid in present woe:
“What is to come, none but the Gods foreknow.