University of Virginia Library

ACT. 5. SCE. 4.

Carino, Montanio, Nicander, Mirtillo, Chorus of Shepheards.
Car.
What Countrymen are here, so brauely furnished
Almost all in a Liuerie? Oh what a show
Is heere? how rich, how full of pome it is?
Trust mee, I thinke it is some Sacrifize.

Mon.
Reach mee (Nicander) the golden Bason,
That containes the iuice of Bacchus fruite.

Ni.
Behold t'is ready here.

Mon.
So may this faultles blood
Thy brest (Oh sacred Goddesse) mollifie,
As do these falling droppes of Wine extinguish
This blasing flame. So, take the Bason, there;
Giue me the siluer Ewer now:

Ni.
Behold the Ewer.

M.
So may thine anger cease with that same faithles Nimph
Prouok't as doth this fire, this falling streame extinguish.

Car.
This is some Sacrifize, but where's the holocaust?

Mon.
Now all is fit, there wantes nought but the end.
Giue me the Axe.

Ca.
If I be not deceiu'd,
I see a thing that by his backe seemeth a man:
He kneeles: he is perhappes the holocaust.
O wretch tis so, the Priest holdes him by th'ead:
And hast thou not vnhappy countrey yet,
After so many yeeres heauens rage appeasd?

Cho. Sh.
O daughter of great Ioue, sister of Phebus bright,
Thou second Titan, to the blinder world that giue'st light.

Mon.
Reuengefull Goddesse that for priuate fault,
Dost publicke punishment on vs inflict,
(Whether it be thy onely will, or els
Eternall prouidence immutable commaund)
Since the infected blood of (Lucrina false)
Might not thy burning iustice then appease,
Drinke now this innocent and voluntarie Sacrifize,
No lesser faythfull then Amintas was,
That at thy sacred Aulter in thy dire reuenge I kill.

Cho. Sh.
O daughter of great Ioue, sister of Phebus bright,
Thou second Titan, to the blinder world that giuest light.

Mon.
Oh how I feele my hart waxe tender now,
Binding my senses with vnusuall maze:
So both my hart not dares, my handes vnable are
To lift this Axe.

Car.
Ile see this wretches face,
And then depart: for pittie will not let me stay.

Mon.
Perhaps against the Sunne my strength doth faile,
And tis a fault to sacrifize against the Sunne,
Turne thou thy dying face toward this hill.
So now, tis well.

Car.
O wretch! what do I see?
My sonne Mirtillo, Is not this my sonne?

Mon.
So now I can.

Car.
It is euen so.

Mon.
Who lets my blow?

Car.
What dost thou sacred Priest?

Mo.
O man prophane,
Why hast thou held this holy Axe? how darest
Thou thy rash handes inpose vpon the same?

Car.
O my Mirtillo, how camst thou to this?

Nic.
Goe dotard old and foolish insolent.

Car.
I neuer thought t'haue thee imbraced thus.

Nic.
Patch stand aside, thou mayst not handle thinges
Sacred vnto the Gods, with handes impure.

Car.
Deare to thee Gods am also I, that by
Their good direction hither came euen now.

Mo.
Nicander cease, heare him, and turne him hence.

Car.
Then courteous Priest, before thy sword doth light
Vpon his necke, Why dyes this wretched Boy?
I, why the Goddesse thou ador'st, beseech thee tell?

Mon.
By such a heauenly power thou coniur'st mee,
That I were wicked, if I thee denied:
But what wil't profit thee?

Ca.
More then thou think'st.

Mon.
Because he for an other willing is to die.

Car.
Dye for an other? then I for him will dye:
For pittie then, thy falling blow direct,
In stead of his, vpon this wretched necke.

Mon.
Thou dotest friend.

Ca.
And will you me denie
That which you graunt another man?

Mo.
Thou art
A Stranger man.

Ca.
How if I were not so?

Mon.
Nor could'st thou, for he dyes but by exchange.
But tell me, what art thou? thy habite shewes
Thou art a Stranger, no Arcadian borne.

Car.
I an Arcadian am.

Mo.
I not remember
That I euer saw thee earst.

Car.
Heere was I borne,
Carino cald, and father of this wretch.

Mon.
Art thou Mirtilloes father then? thou com'st
Vnluckily both for thy selfe and mee:
Stand now aside, least with thy fathers teares,
Thou makest fruitlesse, vaine our Sacrifize.

Car.
If thou a father wert?

Mon.
I am a father man,
A tender father of an onely sonne:
Yet were this same, my Siluioes head, my hand
Should be as ready for't as t'is for this:
For he this sacred habite shall vnworthy weare,
That to a publique good, his priuate doth preferre.

Car.
O let me kisse him yet before he dye.

Mo.
Thou mayst not man.

Car.
Art thou so cruell sonne?
Thou wilt not answere thy sad father once.

Mir.
Good father hold your peace.

Mo.
O wretched wee
The holocaust contaminate ô Gods.

Mir.
The life you gaue, I cannot better giue,
Then for her sake, who sole deserues to liue.

Mon.
Oh thus I thought his fathers teares would make
Him breake his scilence.

Mir.
Wretch with errour haue
I done the law of scilence, quite I had forgot.

Mon.
On Ministers, why do we stay so long?
Carry him to the Temple backe to th'holy Cell,
There take againe his voluntary vow.
Then bring him backe, and bring new Water too,
New Wine, new Fire: dispatch, the sunne growes low.