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Sce. 7.
Corisca Linco.[Corisca.]
Linco belike the spightfull Siluio
When least he ment, a Louer is become,
But what became of her?
(Lin.)
We carried her
To Siluioes house, whose mother her embrac't
With teares of ioy or griefe I know not whether,
Glad that her sonne is waxt a louing spowse,
But sory for the Nymphs mishap, and that
She is a stepdame euill furnished
Of two daughters in law: playning one-dead,
An other wounded.
(Co.)
Is Amarillis dead?
Lin.
She must die straight, for so doth fame report,
Who leesing one sonnes wife, hath found an other.
Co.
Then doth Dorinda liue?
(Lin.)
Liue. I t'were well
Thou wert so well.
(Co.)
Her wound not mortall was.
Lin.
Had she bene dead, yet Siluwes cunning would
Haue her reuiu'd.
(Co.)
What Art her heal'd so soone?
Lin.
From top to toe ile tell the wondrous cure.
About the wounded Nymph stood men and women,
Each with a ready hand; but trembling heart.
But faire Dorinda would not any should
Saue Siluio touch her, saying that the hand
Which was her hurt, should be her remedie.
Siluio, his mother, and I, stay'd there alone,
Working with counsell too one with his hand,
Siluio when gently he had wip'd away
The bloudie streames that stain'd her Iuory flesh,
Assayes to draw the shaft out of the wound,
But the vilde steale yeelding vnto his hand,
Left hidden in the wound the harmfull head.
Hence came the griefe, for t'was impossible
With cunning hand, or daintie instrument,
Or other meanes, to draw it out from thence.
Opening the wound perhaps with wider wound
He might haue found the steele with other steele.
So mought he do, or so he must haue done,
But too too pitious, and too louing now
Was Siluioes hand, for such like cruell pitie
By such hard meanes, loue neuer healeth wounds.
Although it seem'd to her that paine it selfe
Was pleasant now betweene her Siluioes hands.
He not amaz'd sayes thus: this head shall out,
And with lesse paine then any will beleeue.
I put it there, and though I be not able straight
To take it out, yet with the vse of hunting
I will restore the losse I haue by hunting.
I do remember now an hearbe that is well knowne
Vnto the sauadge Goate, when he is wounded
With some Huntsmans shaft: this they to vs,
Nature to them bewray'd, and t'is hard by.
All suddenly he parts vnto a neighbour hill,
He comes, and out he drawes the iuyce thereof,
And mingles it with veruine seed, and roote
Of Centaures bloud, making a playster soft,
Which on the wound he laies: vertue myraculous,
The pain straight ceas'd, the bloud was quickly staid,
The steele straightway without or toile or paine,
The workmans hand obeying, issues out.
And now her strength returnes to her againe,
As though she had not suffered wound at all:
Nor was it mortall, for it had vntoucht
Both left the bones and bellies outward runne,
And onely pierst into the musclouse flanke.
Co.
Great vertue of an hearb, but much more great
For fortune of a woman hast thou tolde.
Lin.
That which betweene them past when this was done,
Is better to be gess'd at then be told.
Dorinda sure is well, and with her side
Can serue her selfe to any vse she likes.
Thou think'st she hath endur'd more wounds by this,
But as the piercing weapons diuers are,
So are the wounds: of some the griefe is sharpe,
Of some t'is sweet, one healing waxeth sound,
The lesse an other heales, the sounder t'is.
In hunting he to shoote such pleasure found,
That now he loues he cannot choose but wound.
Co.
Still thou wilt be that amorous Linco.
Lin.
In mind but not in force my deare Corisca,
Greene bloomes desire within this aged tronke.
Co.
Now Amarillis hath resign'd her life,
I will go see what deare Mirtillo doth.
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