University of Virginia Library

Scen. 6.

Enter Dicæus, Tyrinthus, Thalander, Olinda, Perindus, Glaucilla, Alcippus, Chorus.
Song.
Hymen, Hymen, come safe on, Hymen.
That I loue for euer constant stands,
Where hearts are tied before the hands,
Where faire vertue marries beauty,
And affection pleads for duty:
Hymen, Hymen, come safe on Hymen.

Al.
You honourd paire of fishers, see where your loue,
So full of constant triall now hath brought you,
See, blessed soules, through so many teares,
Turnings, despaires, impossibilities,
Your loue is now most safe arriu'd: Thalander,
Is this the Nymph, whom heauen and angry hell,
Her cold desires, and colder death it selfe
Would haue deuoured from thy deseruing loue?
Thalander, these hands are thine, that heauenly face,
Those starrie eyes, those roses and that grace,
Those corrall lips, and that vnknowne brest,
And all the hidden riches of the rest:
They all are thine, thine is the faire Olinda.
Yet thou, as thou wast wont, all sad and heauy.

Tha.
Blame me not, friend: for yet I seeme forsaken
And doubt I sleepe, and feare still to be waken.

Enter Pas, with Cancrone and Scrocca.
Cos.
Now is the time of pardon. Ye happie maids,
Your loue in spight of all tempestuous seas,
Is safe arriu'd, and harbors in his ease,
And all those stormes haue got but this at last,
To sweeten present ioyes with sorrowes past.
Blessed Olinda, thou hast got a loue
Equall to heauen, and next to highest Ioue.
Glaucilla, thy losse thou now dost full recouer.
Ah you haue found (too seldome sound) a louer.
Then doe not her too rigorously reproue,
For louing those whom you yet better loue.

Olin.
For vs, we iudge not of your hard intent,
But reckon your ioyes fatall instrument.

Dicæ.
Yet this her penance: Cosma, marke thy censure,
Whom most thou shouldest loue, thou shalt loue neuer
Dote thou on dotards, they shall hold thee euer:
The best and wisest neuer shall respect thee,
Thou onely fooles, fooles onely shall affect thee.
Loose now those prisoners; so forward to the temple.

Exit Chorus.
Can.
Ha braue Iudge, now Mistris mine, I must confesse.

Cos.
This charme begins to worke already,
I loue this foole, and doate vpon him more,
Then euer vpon any man before:
Well, I must be content thus to be curst
And yet of louers, fooles are not the worst.
For nowsoeuer boyes doe hoote and flout them,
The best and wisest oft haue fooles about them.

Can.
I and many a fooles bable too, I warrant thee.
Sweete heart, shall we goe to bedde?

Cos.
What, in the morning?

Can.
Morning? tis night.

Cos.
Thou art a foole indeede, seest not the sunne?

Can.

Why that's a candle or the moone, I prethee let's goe
to bed.

Cos.
Content; no time vnfit for play,
Loue knowes no difference twixt night and day.

Can.
Nay, all the play's done, gentles, you may goe,
I haue another play within to doe.
Riddle me, Riddle me, what's that?

Exeunt.