University of Virginia Library

Actus Primus.

Scen: Prima.

Daphne.
Siluia.
I'st possible (Siluia) thou canst resolue
To spend the faire houres of thy flowring youth
With such contempt of Venus, and her Sonne;
And hast no more desire to be a mother,
And leaue a part of thee (when thou art dead)
Liuing behinde thee? Change (young fondling) change
Thy minde; and do not leade a life so strange.

Sil.
Daphne, let others pleasure take in loue,
(If in such thraledome any pleasure bee;)
The life I leade contents me well enough;
To chase the flying Deere ouer the lawne
With Hounde, or well-aym'de Flight, and while I finde
Shafts in my quiuer, and beasts for my pray,
I'le want no sport to passe the time away.

Da:
Fine sports no doubt, and sure a goodly life
For silly mindes that neuer tasted other,
And for that cause alone it pleases thee:
So duller ages heretofore could thinke
Acornes and water the best meate and drinke,
Before the vse of corne and wine was founde,
But now th'are onely eate and drunke by beastes:
And hadst thou but once proou'd the thousand part
Of the deare joyes those happy louers feele,
That truely loue, and are belou'd againe,
Thou wouldst with sighes repent thy time mispent,
And onely call a louers life Content.
And say, O my past springtyde, how in vaine
Spent I thy widowy nights? how many dayes
In fruitlesse lonenesse, which I now bewaile?
Why knew I not loues sweetes haue this condition
To bring new ioyes with eu'ry repetition?
Change, change thy minde (young silly one) and knowe
Too late repentance is a double woe.

Sil.
When I repent the thoughts I carry now,
Or say such words as these thou fayning framest
To sport thy selfe withall; the Floulds shall runne
Backe to their Springs, the Wolfe shall fearing flye
The silly Lambe, and the young Leurett shall
Pursue the speedy Grayhound ore the playne,
The Beare shall in the toyling Ocean breede,
And finny Dolphine on the mountaines feede.

Da:
I so, iust such another peeuish thing
Like thee was I, when I was of thy yeares;
So look'd, so pac'de, so goulden trest', so ruddy
My tysing lipp, so in my rising cheeke
The damaske rose was blowne; and I remember
Iust such as thine is now, my minde was then,
And eu'ne such silly pastimes as thine be
I likewise vsd'e; as with lim'd twiggs to catch
Vnwares the fethred singers in the wood,
Track the Deeres footing, till I had intrapt them
And such like; when a gentle louer woode me,
With such a peeuish grace hang downe the head
And blush for scorne I would, as oft thou doe'st;
And that vnseemely forme me thought became mee,
Nay eu'ne dislik'd what others lik'de in me,
So much I counted it a fault, and shame
To be desir'de or lou'de of any one;
But what cannot time bring to passe? and what
Cannot a true and faithfull louer do
With importunity, desert and loue?
And I confesse plainely the troth to thee
So was I vanquisht; nor with other armes
Then humble suff'rance, sighes, and pitty crauing:
But then I soone found in one short nights shade,
What the broade light of many hundred dayes
Could neuer teach me; then I could recall
My selfe, shake off my blinde simplicitie,
And sighing say, here Cinthia take thy bowe,
Quiuer, and horne, for I renounce thy life.
And I hope yet to see another day
Thy wilde thoughts bridled too, and thy hard brest
Yeeld, and growe softer at Aminta's plaints.
Is he not young and fresh, and louely too?
Does he not loue thee dearely', and thee alone?
For though belou'de of many Nymphes, he neuer
For others loue, or thy hate, leaues to loue thee.
Nor canst thou thinke him to meane borne for thee;
For (be thou daughter of Cidippe faire,
Whose sire was god of this our noble floud)
Yet is Aminta ould Siluanus heire,
Of the high seed of Pan the Shepherds god.
The sleeke-browd' Amarillis (if ere yet
In any fountaines glasse thou saw'st thy selfe)
Is not a whit lesse louely then thou art;
Yet all her sweet alurements he reiects,
And madly dotes on thy dispightfull loathings.
Well, but suppose now, (and the heau'ns forbid
It come to more then supposition)
That he falling from thee, his minde remooue,
And cleaue to her, that so deserues his loue;
What will become of thee then? with what eye
Wilt thou behould him in an others armes
Happily twyn'de, and thy selfe laught to scorne?

Sil:
Be it to' Aminta and his loues, as best
Shall like himselfe; I'me at a point for one;
And so he be not mine, be' he whose he list.
But mine he cannot be against my will,
Nor yet though he were mine, would I be his.

Da:
Fye, whence grows this thy hate?

Sil:
Why from his loue.

Da:
Too soft a syre to breed so rough a Sonne;
But who ere sawe Tygars of milde Lambes bred,
Or the blacke Rau'ne hatcht of a siluer Doue?
Thou dost but mocke me Siluia, dost thou not?

Sil:
I hate his loue, that doth my honour hate;
And lou'de him, whilst he sought what I could graunt.

Da:
Tis thou offend'st thy selfe; he doth but craue
The same for thee, that he desires to haue.

Sil:
I pre'thee Daphne either speake no more,
Or somwhat else that I may answer to.

Da:
See fondling see
How ill this peeuishnesse of youth becomes thee;
Tell me but this yet, if some other lou'de thee,
Is this the welcome thou wouldst giue his loue?

Sil:
Such and worse welcome they deserue, that ar
These theeues of silly maydes virginities,
Which you call louers, and I enimies.

Da:
Is the ramme then to th'ewe an enimy,
The bull to th'bayfer, is the turtle too,
An enemy to' his mate that loues him so?
And is the Spring the season of debate,
That (sweetly smiling) leades to coupling bands
The beast, the fish, the fowle, women and men?
And see'st thou not that e'ury thing that is,
Breathes now a soueraign ayre of loue, and sweetnesse,
Pleasure, and health? behold that Turtle there
With what a wooing murmur he sighes loue
To his belou'de; harke of yon Nitingall
That hops from bough to bough,
Singing I loue I loue; nay more then these,
The speckled Serpent layes his venim by,
And greedy runnes to' imbrace his loued one;
The Tygar loues, and the proud Lion too;
Thou onely sauadge more then sauadge beasts
Barr'st against loue thy more-then-yron brest.
But what speake I of Lions, Tygars, Snakes,
That sensible ar? why all these trees doe loue;
See with what amorous and redoubled twinings
The louing Vine her husband faire intangles;
The Beech tree loues the Beech, the Pine the Pine,
The Elme the Elme loues, and the Willows too
A mutuall languish for each other feele.
That Oake that seemes so rough and so impenitrable,
Doth no lesse feele the force of amorous flame;
And hadst thou but the spirit and sence of loue,
His hidden language thou wouldst vnderstand.
Wilt thou be lesse and worse then trees and plants,
In being thus an enimy to Loue?
Fye silli' one fie; these idle thoughts remooue.

Sil:
When I heare trees sighe (as belike they do)
I'le be content to bee a louer too.

Da:
Well, mock my words, laugh my aduice to scorne,
(Deaffe to Loues sound, and simple as thou art)
But goe thy wayes; be sure the time will come
When thou shalt flye from the now-loued fount
Where thou behold'st and so admyr'st thy selfe;
Fearing to view thy selfe so wrinkled fowle
As age will make thee; but I note not this
To thee aboue the rest, for though age be
Euill, 'tis so to all as well as thee.
Heard'st thou what Elpine spake this other day,
The reu'rend Elpine to the faire Licoris,
(Licoris whose eyes wrought vpon him that
Which his songs should haue wrought vpon her heart,
If Loue could learne but to giue each his due)
He tould it (Batto' and Thirsis being by,
Those two learn'd louers) in Auroras denne,
Ouer whose doore is writt—hence yee prophane,
Hye yee farre hence, which words he writt (sayd he)
That in that high pitch sang of loues and armes,
And when he dyed bequeath'd his pipe to him;
There was (he said) lowe in th'infernall lake
A dungeon darke, aye fill'd with noysom fumes
Breath'd from the furnaces of Acaron,
And there all cruell and ingratefull women
Liue in eternall horror, and ar fedd
With onely their owne bootelesse plaints and cryes.
Looke to't betimes, or I am sore afraide
There must a roome be taken vp for you,
To quite this cruelty to others vsd'e.
And 'twere but iustice, that those fumes should drawe
A sea of sorrow from those eyes of thine,
That pitty could ne're make to shed a teare:
Well, runne on thine owne course, and marke the ende.

Sil:
But what did then Licoris (pre'thee tell me)
What reply did shee make to Elpine's words?

Da:
How curious th'art in other folkes affaires,
And carelesse quite in what concernes thy selfe?
Why, with her eyes Licoris answer'd him.

Sil:
How could shee answer only with her eyes?

Da:
Yes; her faire eyes wrapt in a sunny smile,
Tould Elpine this; Her heart and we are thine;
More cannot she giue, nor must thou desire.
This were alone enough to satisfie
And serue for full reward to a chast louer,
That held her eyes as true as they were faire,
And put entire and harty trust in them.

Sil:
But wherfore does not he then trust her eyes?

Da:
I'le tell thee; know'st thou not what Thirsis writ
When hurryed so with loue, and loues disdaine
He wont to wander all about the woods,
In such a sort, as pitty moou'de, and laughter
Mong'st the young Swaines and Nymphes that gaz'de on him?
Yet writ he nought that laughter did deserue,
Though many things he did, deseru'd no lesse.
He writ it on the barkes of sundry trees,
And as the trees, so grew his verse. 'Twas this—
Deluding eyes, false mirhors of the heart,
Full well I finde how well yee can deceiue:
But what auailes, if loue inforce my will
To' imbrace your harmes, and dote vpon you still?

Sil:
Well thus we wast the time in ydle chatt,
And I had halfe forgot, that 'tis to day
We did appoint to meet in th'Oaken groue,
To hunt an houre; I pre'thee if thou wilt,
Stay for me till I haue in yon fresh fount
Layd off the sweat and dust that yesterday
I soyld me with, in chase of a swift Doe,
That at the length I ouertooke, and kill'de.

Da:
I'le stay for thee, and perhaps wash me too,
But first I'le home a while, and come againe,
For the daye's younger then it seemes to be.
Goe then, and stay there for me till I come;
And in the meane time, thinke on my aduice,
That more imports thee, then the chase, or fount;
And if thou dost not thinke so, thou must know
Thou little know'st; and ought'st thy iudgement bowe
To their direction that know more then thou.

Scen: Secunda.

Aminta.
Thirsis.
At my laments I'ue heard the rocks, the waters
For pitty answer; and at my complaint
The leau'de boughes murmur, as they grieu'd for me;
But neuer saw, nor euer hope to see
Pitty in the faire and cruell (shall I say
Woman or) tygar? for a woman shee
Denyes to be, in thus denying me
The pitty this my miserable state
Drawes from things sencelesse, and inanimate.

Thir:
Lambes on the grasse, the Wolfe feedes on the Lambe
Loue (cruellest of things) with teares is fedd.
And though he euer feedes, is neuer full.

Am:
Alas alas, loue hath bin with my teares
Long since full fedd, and now thirsts onely for
My bloud; and long it shall not be, ere he
And the faire Cruell drinke it with their eyes.

Thi:
Ay me, what sayst thou' Aminta? Fye no more
Of this strange dotage; be of comfortman
And seeke some other; others thou mayest finde
As true, as this is cruell, and vnkinde.

Am:
Alas how weary' a worke were it for me
Other to seeke, that cannot finde my selfe;
And hauing lost my selfe, what can I gaine
With busie'st search that shall requite the paine?

Thi:
Dispaire not yet, vnhappy though thou bee,
Shee may in time relent, and pitty thee:
Time makes the Tygar and the Lion tame.

Am:
O but so long to hope and be delaid,
Is worse then death to one in miserie.

Thi:
Perhaps thy suffrance shall not long endure;
For mayds so' inconstant ar of disposition,
That as th'ar soone at odds, th'ar as soone wonne;
Vncertaine as the leafe blowne with each winde,
And flexible as is the bladed grasse.
But gentle Shepherd, let me craue to know
More throughly thy loues hard condition;
For though I'ue often heard thee say thou lou'st,
Thou neuer tould'st me yet, who 'twas thou lou'st;
And well it fitts the nearenesse of our liues,
And frendship, that such counsayls should be none
Betweene vs two, but free to both, as one.

Am:
Thirsis, I am content to ope to thee
What the woods, hills, and flouds ar priuy to,
But no man knowes: so neere alas I finde
Th'approaching period of this loathed breath,
That reason 'tis I leaue some one behinde,
That may relate th'occasion of my death,
And leaue it written on some Beech-tree barke,
Neere where my bloudlesse carkasse shall be lay'd;
That as the cruell Faire shall passe along,
She may at pleasure spurne with her proud foote
The vnhappy bones,
And smiling say; loe here, loe where he lyes;
The triumph and the trophey of mine eyes;
And (to encrease her fame,) reioyce to see
In my sad ende her beauties victory
Knowne to the Nimphes, and Shepherds farr and neere,
Whom the report may thither guide: perhaps
(Ah hopes too high) shee may bestow a sigh,
And though too late, with some compassion rue
The losse, of him dead, whom shee liuing slue,
And wish he liu'd againe. But I digresse.

Thi:
On with thy story, for I long to heare't;
Perhaps to better ende then thou supposest.

Am:
Being but a Lad, so young as yet scarse able
To reach the fruit from the low-hanging boughes
Of new growne trees; Inward I grew to bee
With a young mayde, fullest of loue and sweetnesse,
That ere display'd pure gold tresse to the winde;
Thou know'st her mother hight Cidippe; no?
Montano the rich Goteheard is her father:
Siluia, faire Siluia 'tis I meane, the glory
Of all these woods, and flame of euery heart;
'Tis shee, 'tis she I speake of; long alas
Liu'd I so neare her, and then lou'de of her,
As like two turtles each in other joy'de;
Neere our abodes, and neerer were our hearts;
Well did our yeares agree, better our thoughts;
Together woue we netts t'intrapp the fish
In flouds and sedgy fleetes; together sett
Pitfalls for birds; together the pye'd Buck
And flying Doe ouer the plaines we chac'de;
And in the quarry', as in the pleasure shar'de:
But as I made the beasts my pray, I found
My heart was lost, and made a pray to other.
By little' and little in my breast beganne
To spring, I know not from what hidden roote
(Like th'herbe that of it selfe is seene to growe)
A strange desire, and loue still to be neere
And hourely drinke from the faire Siluias eyes
A sweetnesse past all thought, but it had still
(Me thought) a bitter farewell; oft I sigh'd,
Yet knew no cause I had to sigh; and so
Became betimes a louer, ere I knewe
What loue meant; but alas I knewe too soone;
And in what sort, marke, and I'le tell thee.

Thir:
Onn.

Am:
All in the shade of a broad Beech-tree sitting,
Siluia, Phillis, and my selfe together;
A Bee, that all about the flowry mede
Had hunny gathred; flew to Phillis cheeke;
The rosie cheeke mistaking for a rose,
And there (belike) his little needle left:
Phillis cryes out, impatient of the paine
Of her sharp sting; but th'euer louely Siluia
Bad her be patient; Phillis (said shee) peace,
And with a word or two I'le heale thy hurt,
And take the sting, and soone the griefe away;
This secret erst the graue Aretia taught mee,
And her I gaue (in recompence) the horne
Of Yuory tipt with gould I wont to were;
This said, the libs of her faire sweetest mouth
Vpon th'offended cheeke shee laid; and straite,
(O strange effect) whether with the sound it were
Of her soft murmur'd verse of Magick powre,
Or rather (as I rather doe beleeue)
The vertue of her mouth,
That what it toucheth, cures, Phillis was cur'de;
And with the paine soone was the swelling gone.
I, that till then ne're dream't of more delight,
Then on the shine of her bright eyes to gaze,
And ioy to heare her speake, (musique more sweete,
Then makes the murmur of a slow pac'de brooke,
When tis with thousand little pebbles crost;
Or the winde pratling 'mongst the wanton leaues)
Gan then, eu'n then to feele a new desire
Possesse me, of touching those deare lips with mine;
And growne more suttle then I was before,
(So loue perhaps th'imagination whets,)
I found this new deceipt, whereby to 'aspire
With greater ease to th'end of my desire;
I faynde my selfe stung on the nether lip,
In like sort with a Bee as Phillis was;
And in such manner gan to moane my selfe,
As th'helpe my tongue crau'd not, my lookes implored;
The harmlesse Siluia, pittying strait my case,
Offred her ready cure to my fayn'd hurt;
But th'vnfayn'd wound I bleede of, deeper made,
And farre more deadly, when those corall twinnes
On mine shee layd. Nor do the greedy Bees
Gather from any flowre honey so sweete,
As I did from those freshest roses gather;
Though bashfull shame, and feare had taught to barre,
Hot kisses from desire to presse too farre,
T'imbathe themselues; and did their heate withholde
And kill, or made them slower and lesse bolde.
But while downe to my heart that sweetnesse glided,
Mixt with a secret poyson, such delight
I inly felt, that faigning still the griefe
Of the sting had not left me yet; so dealt,
That shee the charme repeated sundry times:
Since when till now, still more and more I finde,
For all her charme, she'has left the sting behinde.
Whose paine ere since hath so increas'd vpon me,
As my loue-labouring breast could hold no longer,
But that vpon a time, when diuers Nymphes
And Shepherds of vs in a ring were sitting,
Whilst the play was, each one should softly whisper
Some word in th'eare of her that next him sat;
Siluia (quoth I soft in her eare) for thee
I pine, and dye, vnlesse thou pitty mee.
No sooner heard she this, but downe she hangs
The faire looke, whence I might perceiue to breake
A suddaine and vnwonted ruddinesse,
That seem'd to breathe forth anger mixt with shame;
Nor would shee' in other language answer mee,
Then such a troubled silence, as appear'd
Threatning and deadly; nor since then would euer
Willingly see, or heare me: Thrise the Sunne
His yearly course hath runne, thrise the greene fields
Hath the nak'd Sythman barb'd; and three times hath
The Winter rob'd the trees of their greene lockes;
That I haue tryde all meanes I could, t'appease her,
And nought remaines, but that I dye to please her;
And gladly would I dye, were I but sure
'Twould either please, or but drawe pitty from her;
Each were a blessing to mee, though no doubt
Her pitty were of both the greater meede,
And worthyer recompense for all my loue,
And for my death; yet I were loth to wish
Ought, that too rudely might those eyes molest,
Or do the least offence to that deare brest.

Thi:
Did she but heare thus much from thee, beleeu'st thou
It would not make her loue, or pitty thee?

Am:
I neither knowe, nor can I hope so much:
Shee flyes my speech, as th'Adder doth the charme,

Thi:
Well be of comfort; my minde giues mee yet;
Wee'll finde a meane that she shall heare thee speak

Am:
'Twill come to nought; to begg such grace were vaine,
For mee to speake, where speech no grace will gaine.

Thi:
For shame dispaire not thus.

Ami:
Alas iust cause
Bids mee dispaire; my cruell destinie
Was read by the graue Mopso long agon,
Mopso that knowes the hid language of birds,
And vnderstands the force of herbes and founts.

Thi:
What Mopo's this thou speak'st on? is't not he
That carryes honey in his supple tongue,
And friendly smiles for all he lookes vpon,
But in his heart deceipt, and hidden beares
Vnder his coate a rasor? shame befall him;
The vilde vnlucky doomes he lewdly sells
To silly fooles with that graue looke, and grace,
Ar farr from trueth; take't of my word, and triall.
I'le rather hope (and sure my hope will thriue)
That from this fellowes ydle auguryes
Much happyer fate will to thy loue arise.

Am:
If ought by proofe thou know'st of him, good swayne
Hyde it not from me?

Thir:
Ile tell thee willingly.
When first my hap led mee to know these woods,
I knew this fellow, and esteemed him
As thou do'st: So it fortun'd once, I had
Desire and bus'nesse to go see that great
Wonder of Citties, at whose ancient feete
The broad-fam'd riuer runnes; and him I made
Acquainted with my purpose: he replyes,
And thus began to preach; My sonne beware
Now thou art going to that seate of fame,
Where those deceiptfull crafty Cittizens,
And euill minded Courtiers liue, and wont
To scoffe at vs, and hould in such a scorne
Our plaine distrustlesse homely carriage;
Be well aduiz'd (my sonne) and presse not there
Where the fresh colour'd robes with gould ar wrought,
Gay plumes, and dayly-varied dressings shine;
But aboue all, beware accursed Fate,
Or thy youths iollity conduct thee not
Vnto that magazine of restlesse chatt,
But flye that cursed and inchaunted place.
What place is that (quoth I?) 'tis there (said he)
Where dwell th'inchantresses that haue the powre
And arte to make men, and their minds transparent;
And what so Diamonds seeme, and finest gold,
But glasse and copper ar; those siluer chestes
That seeme full of rich treasor, ar no more
Then kennells full of filth, and cozen men;
The walles ar built too with that wondrous arte,
That they will speake, and answer them that speake;
Nor in halfe words, and such imperfect sounds,
As wont the Eccos that heere haunt our grounds,
But eu'ry word whole, and entyre repeating:
Nay more then this, the tables, chaires, and stooles,
Hangings, and all that to each roome belongs,
Haue toung and voice, and neuer silent ar;
False lyes there, formde into the shape of babes,
Ar hopping all about; and be he dumbe
That enters there, findes straite a tongue to prate
And lye with; but there is yet worse then this,
May happen thee; thou mayst perhaps be turn'd
Into a beast, a tree, a floud, a flame,
Into a floud of teares, a fire of sighes.
All this he tould mee; and I forward went
To see the Cittie with this false beliefe;
And (as good happ would haue it,) chaunc'd to passe
Along the place where stands that blessed dwelling,
Whence I might heare breath out such melody,
By Swans, and Nimphes, and heau'nly Syrens made,
With voyce so shrill, so sweet and full of pleasure,
That all amaz'd, I stay'd to gaze, and listen:
Before the doore there stood (mee seem'd) as guard
Of the faire showes within, a man in showe
And of proportion stout, and knightly hue;
Such as (for what he seem'd me) made me doubt
Whether for Armes he were, or counsaile fitter:
With a benigne, and milde, though graue aspect,
He highly-faire bespake, and led me in;
He great in place, mee poore and homely man:
But then, what did I see? what did I heare?
Celestiall goddesses, and louely Nimphes,
New lights, new Orpheusses; and others too
Vnuayl'd vnclouded, as the virgin-morne,
When siluer dewes her golden rayes adorne.
There Phæbus shone, inlightning all about,
With all his sister Muses; among whom
Satt Elpine; at which sight, all in a trice
I felt my selfe growe greater then my selfe,
Full of new powre, full of new diety?
And sang of warres, and Knightly deedes in Armes,
Scorning the rurall Songs I wont to make;
And though I after did (for others pleasure)
Turne to these woods againe, yet I retaynde
Part of that Spirit; nor yet sounds my pipe
So lowly as before, but shriller farr.
And through the woods rings, with a trumpets voyce.
Afterward Mopso heard me'; and with so vilde,
And sowre a count'nance greeted mee, that I
Became straite hoarce, and was a long time mute;
When all the Shepherds said, sure I had bin
Scar'd with the Wolfe; but Mopso was the Wolfe.
This I haue tould thee, that thou mayst beleeue
How little this mans words deserue beliefe;
And out of doubt, th'hast the more cause to hope,
For that this fellow bids thee not to hope.

Am:
I'me glad to heare this troth of him; but now
I leaue my life, and my liues care to you.

Thi:
Feare not 'tis all my care to cure thy paine:
Within this houre see thou be here againe.

Chorus.