University of Virginia Library

Actus I.

Scæna I.

Enter Callidora disguised in mans apparell.
Madde feet, yee have beene traytours to your Master:
Where have you lead me? sure my truant mind
Hath taught my body thus to wander too;
Faintnesse and feare surprize me; Yee just gods,
If yee have brought me to this place to scourge
The folly of my love, (I might say madnesse)
Dispatch me quickly; send some pittying men
Or cruell beast to find me; let me bee
Fed by the one, or let mee feed the other.
Why are these trees so brave? why doe they weare
Such greene and fresh apparell? how they smile!
How their proud toppes play with the courting wind!
Can they behold me pine and languish here,
And yet not sympathize at all in mourning?
Doe they upbraid my sorrowes? can it bee
That these thick branches never seene before
But by the Sunne, should learne so much of man?
The trees in Courtiers gardens, which are conscious
Of their guilt Masters statelinesse and pride,
Themselves would pitty me; yet these—Who's there?

Enter Alupis singing.

Cal.
I marry Sir, this fellow hath some fire in him,
Me thinkes a sad and drowsie shepheard is
A prodigie in Nature, for the woods
Should bee as farre from sorrow, as they are
From sorrowes causes, riches and the like.
Haile to you swaine, I am a Gentleman
Driven here by ignorance of the way, and would
Confesse my selfe bound to you for a curtesie,
If you would please to helpe me to some lodging
Where I may rest my selfe.

Alu.
For 'tis but a folly, &c.

Cal.
Well; if the rest bee like this fellow here;
Then I have travel'd fairely now; for certainly
This is a land of fooles; some Colonie
Of elder brothers have beene planted here,
And begot this faire generation.
Prithee, good Shepheard, tell mee where thou dwelst?

Alu.
For 'tis but a folly, &c.

Call.
Why art thou madde?

Alu.
What if I bee?
I hope 'tis no discredit for me Sir?
For in this age who is not? I'le prove it to you,
Your Citizen hee's madde to trust the Gentleman
Both with his wares and wife. Your Courtier
Hee's madde to spend his time in studying postures,
Cringes, and fashions, and new complements;
Your Lawyer hee's madde to sell away
His tongue for money, and his Client madder
To buy it of him, since 'tis of no use
But to undoe men, and the Latine tongue;
Your Schollers they are madde to breake their braines,
Out-watch the Moone, and looke more pale then shee,
That so when all the Arts call him their Master,
Hee may perhaps get some small Vicaridge,
Or be the Vsher of a Schoole; but there's
A thing in blacke called Poet, who is ten
Degrees in madnesse above these; his meanes
Is what the gentle Fates please to allow him
By the death or mariage of some mighty Lord,
Which hee must solemnize with a new song.

Cal.
This fellowes wit amazeth me; but friend,
What doe you thinke of lovers?

Alu.
Worst of all;
Is't not a pretty folly to stand thus,
And sigh, and fold the armes, and cry my Cœlia,
My soule, my life, my Calia, then to wring
Ones state for presents, and ones brayne for Sonnets?
O! 'tis beyond the name of Phrenzie.

Cal.
What so Satyricke Shepheard? I beleeve
You did not learne these flashes in the Woods;
How is it possible that you should get
Such neere acquaintance with the Citie manners,
And yet live here in such a silent place,
Where one would thinke the very name of City
Could hardly Enter.

Alu.
Song.

Cal.
You may rejoyce; but sighes befit me better.

Alu.
Now on my conscience thou hast lost a Mistris;
If it be so, thanke God, and love no more;
Or else perhaps she 'has burnt your whining letter,
Or kist another Gentleman in your sight,
Or else denyed you her glove, or laught at you,
Causes indeed, which deserve speciall mourning,
And now you come to talke with your God Cupid
In private here, and call the Woods to witnesse,
And all the streames which murmure when they heare
The injuries they suffer; I am sorry
I have beene a hindrance to your meditations,
Farewell Sir.

Cal.
Nay, good Shepheard, you mistake mee.

Alu.
Faith, I am very chary of my health,
I would be loath to be infected Sir.

Cal.
Thou needest not feare; I have no disease at all
Besides a troubled mind.

Alu.
Why that's the worst, the worst of all.

Cal.
And therefore it doth challenge
Your piety the more, you should the rather,
Strive to be my Physitian.

Alu.
The good Gods forbid it; J turne Physitian?
My Parents brought me up more piously,
Then that I should play booty with a sicknesse,
Turne a consumption to mens purses, and
Purge them, worse then their bodyes, and set up
An Apothecaries shop in private chambers,
Live by revenew of close-stooles and urinals,
Deferre off sick mens health from day to day
As if they went to law with their disease.
No, I was borne for better ends, then to send away
His Majesties subjects to hell so fast,
As if I were to share the stakes with Charon.

Cal.
Your wit erres much:
For as the soule is nobler then the body,
So it's corruption askes a better medicine
Then is applyed to Gouts, Catarrs, or Agues,
And that is counsell.

Alu.
So then: I should bee
Your soules Physitian; why, I could talke out
An houre or so, but then I want a cushion
To thump my precepts into; but tell me 'pray,
What name beares your disease?

Cal.
A feaver, shepheard, but so farre above
An outward one, that the vicissitudes
Of that may seeme but warmth, and coolenesse only;
This, flame, and frost.

Alu.
So; I understand you,
You are a lover, which is by translation
A foole, or a beast, for I'le define you; you're
Partly Chamæleon, partly Salamander,
You're fed by th'ayre, and live i' the fire.

Cal.
Why did you never love? have you no softnesse,
Nought of your mother in you? if that Sun
Which scorched me, should cast one beame upon you.
T'would quickly melt the ice about your heart,
And lend your eyes fresh streames.

Alu.
'Faith, I thinke not;
I have seene all your beautyes of the Court,
And yet was never ravisht, never made
A dolefull Sonnet unto angry Cupid,
Either to warme her heart, or else coole mine,
And no face yet could ever wound me so,
But that I quickly found a remedie.

Cal.
That were an art worth learning, and you need not
Be niggard of your knowledge; See the Sunne
Though it have given this many thousand yeares
Light to the world, yet is as bigge and bright
As e're it was, and hath not lost one beame
Of his first glory; then let charity
Perswade you to instruct me, I shall bee
A very thankfull scholler.

Alu.
I shall: for 'tis both easily taught and learn'd,
Come sing away the day, &c.
Mirth is the only physick.

Cal.
It is a way which I have much desired
To cheate my sorrow with; and for that purpose
Would faine turne shepheard, and in rurall sports
Weare my lifes remnant out; I would forget
All things, my very name if it were possible.

Alu.
Pray let me learne it first.

Cal.
'Tis Callidorus.

Alu.

Exeunt.
Enter Palæmon, Melarnus, Truga, Ægon Bellula, Hylace.
Pa.
I see I am undone.

Mel.
Come no matter for that, you love my Daughter?
By Pan; but come, no matter for that; you my Hilace?

Tru.

Nay good Duck, doe not vexe your selfe; what
though he loves her? you know she will not have him.

Mel.

Come, no matter for that; I will vex myselfe, and vex
him too, shall such an idle fellow as he strive to entice away
honest mens children? let him goe feed his flocks; but alas!
he has none to trouble him; ha, ha, ha, yet hee would marry
my daughter.

Pa.
Thou art a malicious doting man,
And one who cannot boast of any thing
But that shee calls thee father, though I cannot
Number so large a flock of sheepe as thou,
Nor send so many cheeses to the City,
Yet in my mind I am an Emperour
If but compar'd with thee.

Tru.
Of what place I pray?
'Tis of some new discovered Countrey, is't not?

Pa.
Prithee good Wintor if thou wilt be talking,
Keepe thy breath in a little, for it smells
Worse then a Goat; yet thou must talke,
For thou hast nothing left thee of a woman
But lust, and tongue

Hyl.
Shepheard, here's none so taken with your wit
But you might spare it; if you be so lavish,
You'le have none left another time to make
The song of the forsaken Lover with.

Pa.
I'me dumbe, my lips are seal'd, seal'd up for ever
May my rash tongue forget to be interpreter,
And organ of my senses, if you say,
It hath offended you.

Hyl.
Troth if you make
But that condition, I shall agree to't quickly:

Mel.
By Pan well said Girle; what a foole was I
To suspect thee of loving him? but come
'Tis no matter for that; when e're thou art maried
I'le adde ten sheepe more to thy portion,
For putting this one jest upon him.

Ægon.
Nay now I must needs tell you that your anger
Is grounded with no reason to maintaine it,
If you intend your Daughter shall not marry him,
Say so, but play not with his passion,
For 'tis inhumane wit which jeeres the wretched.

Mel.
Come 'tis no matter for that; what I doe, I doe;
I shall not need your counsell.

Tru.
I hope my husband and I have enough wisdome
To governe our owne child; if we want any
'Twill be to little purpose, I dare say,
To come to borrow some of you.

Æg.
'Tis very likely pritty Mistris Maukin,
You with a face lookes like a winter apple
When 'tis shrunke up together and halfe rotten,
I'de see you hang'd up for a thing to skare
The crowes away before Ile spend my breath
To teach you any.

Hyl.
Alas good shepheard!
What doe you imagine that I should love you for?

Pal.
For all my services, the vertuous zeale
And constancie with which I ever woed you,
Though I were blacker then a starlesse night,
Or consciences where guilt and horror dwell,
Although splay-legd, crooked, deform'd in all parts,
And but the Chao's only of a man;
Yet if I love and honor you, humanitie
Would teach you not to hate, or laugh at me.

Hy.
Pray spare your fine perswasions, and set speeches,
And rather tell them to those stones and trees,
'Twill be to as good purpose quite, as when
You spend them upon me.

Pa.
Give me my finall answer, that I may
Bee either blest for ever, or die quickly;
Delay's a cruell rack, and kils by piece-meales.

Hy.
Then here 'tis, you're an asse,
(Take that for your incivilitie to my mother)
And I will never love you.

Pal.
You're a woman;
A cruell and fond woman, and my passion
Shall trouble you no more; but when I'me dead
My angry Ghost shall vex you worse then now
Your pride doth mee, Farewell.

Enter Aphron madde meeting Palæmon going out.
Aph.
Nay stay Sir, have you found her?

Pa.
How now? whats the matter?

Aph.
For I will have her out of you, or else
I'le cut thee into atomes, til the wind
Play with the shreeds of thy torne body. Looke her
Or I will do't.

Pal.
Whom; or where?

Aph.
I'le tell thee honest fellow; thou shalt goe
From me as an Embassador to the Sunne,
For men call him the eye of heaven, (from which
Nothing lyes hid) and tell him—doe you marke me—tell him
From me—that if he send not word where shee is gone,
—I will—nay by the Gods I will.

Æg.
Alas poore Gentleman!
Sure he hath lost some Mistris; beautious women
Are the chiefe plagues to men.

Tru.
Nay, not so shepheard, when did I plague any?

Ægon.
How farre is he beyond the name of slave,
That makes his love his Mistris?

Aph.
Mistris? who's that? her Ghost? 'tis shee;
It was her voyce; were all the flouds, the rivers,
And seas that with their crooked armes embrace
The earth betwixt us, I'de wade through and meet her,
Were all the Alpes heap'd on each others head,
Were Pelion joyn'd to Ossa, and they both
Throwne on Olympus top, they should not make
So high a wall, but I would scal't and find her.

Bel.
Vnhappy man.

Aph.
'Tis empty ayre: I was too rude, too saucy.
And she hath left me; if shee be alive
What darknesse shall be thicke enough to hide her?
If dead, I'le seeke the place which Poets call Elizium,
Where all the soules of good and vertuous mortalls
Enjoy deserved pleasures after death.
What should I feare? if there be an Erynnis
'Tis in this brest, if a Tisiphone
'Tis here, here in this braine are all her serpents;
My griefe and fury armes me.

Pal.
By your leave Sir.

Aph.
Now by the Gods, that man that stops my journey
Had better have provokt a hungry Lionesse
Rob'd of her Whelpes, or set his naked brest
Against the Thunder.
Exit Aphron.

Tru.
'Tis well hee's gone,
I never could endure to see these madde men.

Mel.
Come no matter for that
Enter Alupis and Callidorus
For now he's gone, here comes another.
But it's no matter for that neither.
How now? who has hee brought with him?

Al.
Hayle to yee Shepheards, and yes beautious Nymphs,
I must present this stranger to your knowledge,
When you're acquainted well, you'le thanke me for't.

Cal.
Blest Masters of these Woods, hayle to you all,
'Tis my desire to be your neighbour here;
And feed my flocks (such as they are) neere yours,
This Shepheard tels me, that your gentle nature
Will be most willing to accept my friendship;
Which if yee doe, may all the Sylvan Deityes
Bee still propitious to you, may your flocks
Yearely increase above your hopes or wishes;
May none of your young lambes become a prey
To the rude Wolfe, but play about securely;
May dearths be ever exil'd from these woods,
May your fruits prosper, and your mountaine strawberyes
Grow in abundance, may no Lovers be
Despis'd, and pine away their yeares of spring:
But the young men and maides bee strucken both
With equall sympathy.

Pa.
That were a golden time; the Gods for bid
Mortalls to bee so happy.

Ægon.
I thanke you; and we wish no lesse to you:
You are most welcome hither.

Tru.
'Tis a handsome man,
I'le be acquainted with him; we most heartily
Accept your company.

Mel.
Come no matter for that; we have enough
Already who can beare us company,
But no matter for that neither; wee shall have
Shortly no roome left us to feed our flockes
By one another.

Alup.
What alwayes grumbling?
Your father and your mother scoulded sure
Whil'st you were getting; well, if I begin
I'le so abuse thee, and that publiquely.

Mel.
A rott upon you; you must still be humoured,
But come, no matter for that; you're welcome then

Al.
What, beauties, are you silent?
Take notice of him, (pray) your speaking is
Worth more then all the rest.

Bell.
You're very welcome

Cal.
Thanke you fayre Nymph, this is indeed a welcome Salutes her,

Bell.
I never saw, beauty and affability
So well conjoyn'd before; if I stay long
I shall be quite undone.

Alu.
Nay come, put on too.

Hyl.
You are most kindly welcome.

Cal.
You blesse mee too much;
The honour of your lip is entertainment
Princes might wish for.

Hyl.
Blesse me how hee lookes!
And how he talkes; his kisse was honey too,
His lips as red and sweet as early cheryes,
Softer then Bevers skins

Bel.
Blesse me, how I envy her!
Would I had that kisse too!

Hyl.
How his eye shines! what a bright flame it shootes!

Bel.
How red his cheekes are! so our garden apples
Looke on that side where the hot Sun salutes them.

Hyl,
How well his haires become him!
Just like that starre which ushers on the day.

Bell.
How faire he is! fairer then whitest blossomes?

Trug.
They two have got a kisse;
Why should I lose it for want of speaking?
You're welcome shepheard.

Alu.
Come on: For 'tis but a folly, &c:

Tru.
Doe you heare? you are welcome.

Alu.
Oh! here's another must have a kisse:

Tru.
Goe you're a paltry knave, I, that you are,
To wrong an houest woman thus.

Alu.
Why hee shall kisse thee, never feare it, alas!
I did but jest, he'le do't for all this,
Nay, because I will be a Patron to thee
I'le speake to him.

Tru.
You're a slandering knave,
And you shall know't, that you shall.

Al.
Nay, if you scould so lowd
Others shall know it too; He must stop your mouth,
Or you'le talke on this three houres; Callidorus
If you can patiently endure a stinke,
Or have frequented ere the City Beare-garden,
Prithee salute this fourescore yeares, and free me,
She sayes you're welcome too.

Cal.
I cry you mercy Shepheardesse,
By Pan I did not see you.

Tru.
If my husband and Alupis were not here
I'de rather pay him back his kisse againe,
Then be beholding to him.

Al.
What, thou hast don't?
Well if thou dost not dye upon't, hereafter
Thy body will agree even with the worst
And stinking'st ayre in Europe.

Cal.
Nay, be not angry Shepheardesse, you know
He doth but jest as 'tis his custome.

Tru.
I know it is his custome; he was alwayes
Wont to abuse me, like a knave as he is,
But I'le endure't no more.

Al.
Prithee good Callidorus if her breath
Be not too bad, goe stop her mouth againe,
She'le scould till night else.

Tru.
Yes marry will I, that I will, you rascall you,
I'le teach you to lay your frumps upon me;
You delight in it, doe you?

Al.
Prithee be quiet, leave but talking to me
And I will never jeere thee any more,
We two will be so peaceable hereafter.

Tru.
Well upon that condition.

Al.
Song.

Ægon.
And yet me thinkes you sing,

Al.
O yes, because here's none doe dance,
And both are better farre then to be sad.

Ægon.
Come then let's have a round.

Al.
A match; Palæmon whither goe you?

Pa.
The Gods forbid that I should mock my selfe,
Cheate my owne mind, I dance and weepe at once?
You may: Farewell.

Exit.
Al.
'Tis such a whining foole; come, come, Melarnus.

Mel.

I have no mind to dance; but come no matter for
that, rather then breake the squares.—

Cal.
By your leave, fayre one.

Hil.
Would I were in her place.

Al.
Come Hilace, thee and I wench I warrant thee,
You and your wife together. God blesse you; so—
For 'tis but a folly, &c.

Dance.
Tru.
So there's enough, I'me halfe a weary,

Mel.
Come no matter for that,
I have not danc't so much this yeare.

Al.
So farewell, you'le come along with me?

Cal.
Yes, farewell gentle Swaines.

Tru.
Farewell good Shepheard,

Bel.
Your best wishes follow you.

Hyl.
Pan alwayes guide you.

Mel.
It's no matter for that, come away.

Exeunt.