University of Virginia Library

Sce. 2.

Mirtillo. Ergasto.
[Mirtillo.]
Cruell Amarillis, that with thy bitter name
Most bitterly dost teach me to complaine
Whiter then whitest Lillies and more faire,
But deafer and more fierce then th'adder is.
Since with my words I do so much offend,
In silence will I die: but yet these plaines
These mountaines and these woods, shal cry for me,
Whom I so oft haue learned to resound
That loued name. For me my plaints shall tell
The plaining fountains and the murm'ring windes:
Pittie and griefe shall speake out of my face,
And in the end though all things else proue dombe,
My verie death shal tell my martirdome.

Er.
Loue (deare Mirtillo)'s like a fire inclosde,
Which straightly kept, more fiercely flames at last,
Thou shouldst not haue so long conceald from me
The fire, since it thou couldst not hide.
How often haue I said Mirtillo burnes,
But in a silent flame and so consumes.

Mi.
My selfe I harmed her not to offend
(Curteous Ergasto) and should yet be dombe,
But strict necessitie hath made me bold.
I heare a voice which through my scared eares
Woundeth alas my wretched heart with noise
Of Amarillis nighing nuptiall feast,
Who speakes ought els to me he holds his peace.
Nor dare I further search, as wel for feare
To giue suspition of my loue, as for to finde
That which I would not. Well! I know (Ergasto)
It fits not with my poore and base estate
To hope at all a Nymphe so rarely qualifide,
Of bloud and spright truly celestiall,
Should proue my wife. O no, I know too well,
The lowlinesse of my poore humble starre,
My desteny's to burne! not to delight
Was I brought forth, but since my cruell fates
Haue made me loue my death more then my life,
I am content to die, so that my death
Might please her that's the cause thereof;
And that she would but grace my latest gaspe
With her faire eyes, and once before she made
Another by her marriage fortunate,
She would but heare me speake. Curreous Ergasto,
If thou lou'st me, helpe me with this fauour,
Aide me herein, if thou tak'st pittie of my case.

Er.
A poore desire of loue; and light reward
Of him that dies: but dang'rous; enterprise.
Wretched were she, should but her father know
She had bow'd downe her eares to her louers words,
Or should she be accused to the priest
Her father in lawe, for this perhaps she shunnes
To speake with you, that els doth loue you well,
Although she it conceales; for women though
They be more fraile in their desires,
Yet are they craftier in hiding them;
If this be true, how can she show more loue
Then thus in shunning you? she heares in vaine,
And shunnes with pittie that can giue no helpe.
It is sound counsell, soone to cease desiring,
When we cannot attaine to our aspiring.

Mi.
Oh were this true, could I but this beleeue,
Thrise happie paine. Thrise fortunate distresse.
But tell me sweet Ergusto, tell me tiue,
Which is the shepheard whom the starres so friend?

Ergust.
Knowst thou not Siluio Montane's onely sonne?
Dianaes priest: that rich and famous shepheard,
That gallant youth? He is the very same.

Mi.
Most happie youth, that hast in tender yeares
Found fate so ripe. I do not enuy thee,
But plaine my selfe.

(Erg.)
Nor need you enuy him
That pittie more then enuy doth deserue.

Mi.
Pittie! and why?

(Erg.)
Because he loues her not.

Mi.
And liues he? hath a hart? and is not blinde?
Or hath she on my wretched hart spent all her flames?
And her faire eyes blowne all their loues on mee?
Why should they giue a Iemme so precious
To one that neither knowes it, nor regards it?

Erg.
For that the heauens the health of Arcady
Do promise at these nuptialls. Know you not
How we do stil appease our goddesse wrath,
Each yeare with guiltlesse blood of some poore Nymphe?
A mortall and a miserable tribute.

Mi.
T'is newes to mee, that am a new inhabitant,
As't pleaseth loue and my poore desteny:
That did before inhabit sauadge woods,
But what I pray you was that greeuous fault
That kindled rage in a celestiall brest?

Erg.
I will report the dolefull tragedy
From the beginning of our misery,
That able are pittie and plaints to drawe
From these hard rocks, much more from humane brests.
In that same golden age when holy priesthood, and
The temples charge was not prohibited
To youth. A noble swaine Amintas call'd,
Priest at that time, loued Lucrina bright:
A beauteous Nymphe, exceeding faire: but therewithall
Exceeding false, and light. Long time she loued him,
Or at the least, she seemed so, with fained face
Nursing his pure affections with false hopes.
Whilst she no other suters had. But see
Th'vnconstant wretch! no sooner was she wooed
By a rude shepheard, but at first assault,
At his first sighe, she yeelded vp her loue:
Before Amintas dream't of Iealousie.
At last Amintas was forlorne, despide,
So that the wicked woman would nor see, nor heare
Him speake, now if the wretch did sigh,
Be thou the iudge that knowst his paine by proofe.

Mi.
Aye me, this griefe all other griefs exceeds.

Er.
After he had his heart recouered
From his complaints, he to his goddesse turnes,
And praying saves: Great Cinthia if I haue
At any time kindled with guiltlesse hands
Thy holy flames, reuenge thou then for me
This broken faith of my vnconstant Nimphe.
Diana heares the praiers of her priest,
And straight out-breathing rage, she takes her bowe
And shootes shafts of mennitable death
Into the bowels of Arcadia.
People of euery sexe, of euery age,
Soone perished, no succour could be found,
T'was bootlesse art to search for remedies,
For often on the patient the phisitian died.
One onely remedie did rest, which was
Strait to the nearest Oracle they went,
From whom they had an answere verie cleare,
But aboue measure deadly horrible.
Which was, our Cinthia was displeasd, and to
Appease her ire, either Lucrina or some else for her,
Must by Amintas hands be sacrifiz'd.
Who when she had long time in vaine complain'd,
And lookt for helpe from her new friend in vaine,
Was to the sacred Altars led with solemne pompe,
A wofull sacrifice. Where at those feete
Which had pursued her long time in vaine
At her betrayed Louers feete she bends
Her trembling knees, attending cruell death.
Amintas stretcheth out the holy sword,
Seeming to breath from his inflamed lippes,
Rage and reuenge; turning to her his face,
Speakes with a sigh, the messenger of death:
Lucrina for thy further paines, behold
What Louer thou hast left, and what pursude
Iudge by this blow. And with that very word
Striketh the blade into his wofull brest,
Falling a sacrifice vpon the sacrifice.
At such a straunge and cruell spectacle,
The Nymphe amazed stand twixt life and death,
Scarce yet assur'd whether she wounded were
With griefe, or with the sword. At last, assoone
As she recouered had, her spright, and speech,
She plaining saies. O faithfull valiant loue!
O too late knowne! that by thy death hast giu'n
Me life and death at once. If t'were a fault
To leaue thee so? behold I'le mend it now,
Eternally vniting both our soules,
And therewithall she takes the sword, all warme,
With the blood of her too late loued friend,
And strikes it through her hart, falling vpon
Amintas, that was scarcely dead as yet,
And felt perchance that fall. Such was their ende,
To such a wretched end did too much loue,
And too much trechery conduct them both.

Mi.
O wretched Shepheard, and yet fortunate,
That hadst so large and famous scope, to showe
Thy troth, and waken liuely pittie of thy death
Within anothers brest. But what did follow?
Was Cinthia pleasd, found they a remedie?

Er.
Somewhat it slak't, but yet not quite put out:
For after that a yeare was finished,
Her rage began a fresh, so that of force
They driuen were, vnto the Oracle:
To aske new counsell, but brought back againe
An answere much more wofull then the first.
Which was, to sacrifice them: and each after yeare,
A maid, or woman, to our angry power,
Eu'n till the third and past the fourth degree:
So should ones blood for many satisfie.
Besides, she did vpon th'vnhappie sexe,
Impose a wretched and a cruell lawe.
And (if you marke their nature) in obseruable.
A law recorded with vermilian blood:
What euer maid or woman broken had
Their faith in loue, and were contaminate,
If they should find none that would die for them
They were condemn'd without remission.
To these our greeuous great calamities,
The fathers hop'd to finde a happie ende,
By this desired marriage day. For afterward
Hauing demaunded of the Oracle
What end the heauens prescribed had our ill,
Answere was giu'n in such like words as these:
No end there is to that which you offends,
Till two of heauens issue loue vnite;
And for the auncient fault of that false wight,
A faithfull Shepheards pittie make amends.
Now is there not in all Arcadia
Other bowes left, of that celestiall roote:
Saue Amarillis, and this Siluio,
Th'one of Pans seed, th'other of Hercules.
Nor to our mischiefe yet hath neuer hapt,
That male and female met at any time
Till now. Therefore good reason Montane hath
To hope, though all things sort not to the Oracle,
Yet here's a good foundation laid: the rest
High fates haue in their bosomes bred,
And will bring forth at this great marriage day.

Mi.
O poore Mirtillo! wretched man!
So many cruell enemies? such warres?
To worke my death cannot great Loue suffice?
But that the Fates, their armes will exercise.

Er.
This cruell loue (Mirtillo) feeds himselfe
With teares, and griefe, but's neuer satisfide.
I promise thee to set my wits a worke,
That the faire Nymphe shall heare thee speake. Lets goe!
These burning sighes do not as they do seeme,
Bring any cooling to th'inflamed hart:
But rather are huge and impetuous windes,
That blow the fire, and make it greater proue,
With swelling whirlwindes of tempestuous loue,
Which vnto wretched louers alwaies beares
Thick clouds of griefe, and showres of dreary teares.