University of Virginia Library

Dialogue.

Thyrsis. Cloris.
Cloris.
I preethy Thyrsis tell me true,
What did I when I first lov'd you?

Thyrsis.
Then first thy breast became to be.
Great Cupids Throne.

Clo:
Pray who is he?

Thyrsis.
A Beauteous Boy, whose Ivory Bow,
And shafts in Lovers Bosoms grow,

Cloris.
O he's a wondrous cruell guest.
That makes a Quivor of a Breast.

Thyrsis.
Both Bow, and Shafts, and Boy doe dwell
In Lovers Breasts.

Clo:
I preethy tell.
How can a Boy be bred in me,
Who still professe Virginity?

Thyrsis.
In thee or I, or any one alive,
The amorous Boy may grow and thrive.

Cloris.
Fye Thyrsis, fye, no more Ile seeke,
Nor will I love thee now this weeke.

Thyrsis.
Deare Cloris why?

Clo.
Delude me so?
As if a Boy in thee could grow.
I am not I so soone beguild,
To thinke that men may be with child.
Tis not a sluggish Boy that seekes
To be matur'd by forty weekes.
His body is a subtle fire,
Inform'd and quickened by desire.
Love me this Instant, and this instant you
Get him, conceive him, and bring forth too.

Cloris.
When first my labour did begin,
Why didst not call the Neighbours in?

Thyrsis.
No forraigne aide we need to prove,
Our selves are Midwives to our Love.

Chorus.
Strange Riddle love, whose births perplex,
And make us change and shift our sexe.
Men may be Mothers to desire,
And Virgins pure may be his Sire.