University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.

Marian. Mellifleur. Amie.
Mar.
How do you sweet Amie? yet?

Mel.
Shee cannot tell,
If shee could sleepe, shee saies, shee should do well.
Shee feeles a hurt, but where, shee cannot show
Any least signe, that shee is hurt or no.
Her paine's not doubtfull to her; but the seat
Of her paine is. Her thoughts too work, and beat,
Opprest with Cares: but why, shee cannot say.
All matter of her care is quite away.

Mar.
Hath any Vermin broke into your Fold?
Or any rott seiz'd on your flock? or cold?
Or hath your feighting Ram, burst his hard horne?
Or any Ewe her fleece? or bag hath torne,
My gentle Amie?

Am.
Marian, none of these.

Mar.
Ha' you been stung by Waspes, or angry Bees?
Or raz'd with some rude bramble, or rough briar?

Am.
No Marian; my disease is somewhat nigher.
I weep, and boile away my Selfe, in teares;
And then my panting heart would dry those feares:
I burne, though all the Forrest lend a shade;
And freize, though the whole Wood one fire were made.

Mar.
Alas!

Am.
I often have been torne with thorne and briar;
Both in the Leg, and Foot, and somewhat higher:
Yet gave not then such fearfull shreikes as these. Ah!
I often have been stung too, with curst Bees,
Yet no remember that I then did quit
Either my Companie, or Mirth for it. Ah!
And therefore, what it is that I feele now,
And know no cause of it, nor where, nor how,
It entred in mee, nor least print can see,
I feele afflicts mee more, then Briar, or Bee. Oh!
How often, when the Sun heavens brightest birth
Hath with his burning fervour cleft the earth,
Under a spreading Elme, or Oake, hard by
A coole cleare fountaine, could I sleeping lie
Safe from the heate? but now, no shadie tree,
Nor purling brook, can my refreshing bee?
Oft when the medowes, were growne rough with frost,
The rivers ice-bound, and their currents lost,
My thick warme fleece I wore, was my defence
Or large good fires, I made, drave winter thence.
But now, my whole flocks fells, nor this thick grove,
Enflam'd to ashes, can my cold remove.
It is a cold, and heat, that doth out goe
All sense of Winters, and of Summers so.