University of Virginia Library

Actus Primus.

Scena Prima.

Silvio, Linco, With Huntsmen.
Sil.
Go you that lodg'd the Monster, as y'are wont
Amongst the neighb'ring sheepcoats, raise the Hunt.
Rowse eyes and hearts with your shrill voice and horn;
If ever in Arcadia there were born
A shepherd, who did follow Cynthia's Court
As a true lover of her rurall sport,
Within whose Quarry-scorning mind had place
The pleasure or the glory of the Chase,
Now let him show that courage and that love,
By following me, where in a little grove
To Valour a large field doth open lye,
That dreadfull Boar, I mean, that Prodigy
Of Nature and the Woods, that huge, that fell,
And noted'st Tyrant that did ever dwell
And reign in Erimanthus; the fields mower,
The mowers terror: Go you then before,
And do not only with your early horn
Anticipate, but wake the drowsie morn.—
Exeunt Hunts. sounding.
We, Linco, will to prayers, this perilous Chase
(Heav'n being our guide) we may more boldly trace.
“That work which is begun well is half done,
“And without Prayer no work is well begun.

Lin.
Thy worshipping the Gods I well commend,
But not thy troubling them who do attend
The Gods: The Priests as yet are all asleep,
To whom day springs yet later, where the steep
Surrounding hils a short Horizon make.

Sil.
To thee whose heart is hardly yet awake
The whole world sleeps.

Lin.
O Silvio, Silvio,
Why did frank Nature upon thee bestow
Blossoms of Beauty in thy prime, so sweet
And fair, for thee to trample under feet?
Had I thy fresh and blooming cheek, Adieu
I'ld say to beasts, and nobler game pursue.
The Summer I would spend in feasts and mirth
In the cool shade, the Winter by the hearth.

Sil.
How's this? Thou art not Linco sure; for he
Such counsell never us'd to give to me.

Lin.
“Counsell must change as the occasion doth:
If I were Silvio, so I'ld do insooth.

Sil.
And I, if I were Linco would do so,
But as I am, I'll do like Silvio.

Lin.
Fond youth, for a wild Beast so far to roame,
Whom thou must hunt with danger, when at home
One's safely lodg'd!

Sil.
Dost thou speak seriouslie?
How neer is it?

Lin.
As thou art now to me.

Sil.
Th'art mad.

Lin.
Thou art.

Sil.
In what wood doth hee rest?

Lin.
Silvio's the wood, and Cruelty the beast.

Sil.
Mad I was sure!

Lin.
To have a Nymph so fair,
(Rather a Goddesse of perfections rare)
Fresher and sweeter then a Rose new blown,
Softer and whiter then an old Swans down,
For whom there lives not at this day a swain
So proud 'mongst us but sighs, and sighs in vain:
To have, I say, this matchlesse Paragon
By Gods and men reserv'd for thee, nay, thrown
Into thine arms without one sigh or tear,
And thou (unworthy!) to disvalue her?
Art thou not then a beast? a savage one?
Rather a senselesse clod, a stock, a stone?

Sil.
“If not to be in love be cruelty,
“Then cruelty's a Vertue: Nor do I
Repent, but boast, I lodge him in my brest
By whom I've conquerd Love, the greater beast.

Lin.
How couldst thou conquer (silly Idiot)
Whom thou nere try'dst?

Silv.
In that I try'd him not.

Lin.
O hadst thou try'd him Silvio, and once found
In mutuall Lovers what true joyes abound,
I know thou'ldst say, O Love, the sweetest guest,
Why hast thou been an alien to this brest?
Leave, leave the woods, leave following beasts, fond boy,
And follow Love..

Sil.
Linco, I take more joy
In one beast caught by my Melampo, far,
Then in the love of all the Nymphs that are.
Keep they those joyes unto themselves alone
That finde a soul in them; for I finde none.

Lin.
No soul in Love (the world's great Soul)? But fool,
Too soon (believe't) thou'lt finde he is all soul:
(Perchance too late;) for “hee'll be sure before
“We die, to make us all once feel his power.
And (take my word) “worse torment none can prove,
“Then in old limbs the youthfull itch of love:
“All tampring then will but exasperate
“The sore. If Love a young man wound, he straight
“Balms him again, hope holds up sorrows head,
“And smiles revive him, if frowns strike him dead.
“But if an aged man those flames endure,
“Whose own defects his own repulse procure,
“Then, then the wound is unsupportable
“And mortall; then the anguish is a Hell:
“Then if he pity seek, it is a curse
“To go without it, and to gain't a worse.
“Ah! hasten not before th'appointed day
“The curse of dayes; for if when thou art gray
“Thou learn to love, 'twill breed a double sense,
“Of thy youth's pride, and age's impotence.
Leave, leave the woods, leave following beasts, fond boy,
And follow Love.

Sil.
As if there were no joy
But these Chimera's in a Lovers head,
Of strange Eliziums, by his feaver bred!

Lin.
Tell me if in this jolly month of May,
When earth is clad in all her best array,
In stead of bladed fields, brooks uncontroul'd,
Green woods and painted meads, thou shouldst behold
Bald fields and meads, brooks bound with Ice, the Pine,
The Beech, the Ash, the Oak, the Elm, the Vine,
And Poplar, like inverted Sceletones,
Stand desolate, ratling their naked bones;
Wouldst thou not say, Nature is out of tune,
The world is sick, and like to dye in June?
Now the same horrour which thou wouldst receive
From such a monstrous noveltie, conceive
At thine own self. “The all-disposing Heav'n
“To ev'ry age hath proper Humors giv'n:
“And as in old men love absurdly shows;
“So young men enemies to love oppose
“Nature and Heav'n. Look Silvio round about,
Examine the whole Universe throughout:
All that is fair or good, here, or above,
Or is a Lover, or the work of Love.
Th'all-seeing Heav'n, the fruitfull Earth's a Lover,
The Sea with love is ready to boil over.
Seest thou yon Star of such excelling hew,
The Suns Postillion? That's a lover too:
Nor is exempted from her own son's laws,
But feels that passion which her beauties cause.
Perchance this very hour too shee did part
From her stoln sweets, and Him that keeps her heart.
Mark what a wanton eye she has! In woods
Rough Bears, the crook-backt Dolphin loves in floods,
And sluggish Whales; That little bird which sings
So sweetly, and so nimbly plyes the wings,
Flying from tree to tree, from Grove to Grove,
If he could speak, would say, I am in love.
But his heart sayes it, and his tongue doth say't
In language understood by his deer Mate:
And Silvio, heark how from that wildernesse
His dear Mate answers, And I love no lesse.
The Cowes low in the valley; and what's this
But an inviting unto amorous blisse?
The Lions roar in solitary Groves,
Not for their prey, but for their absent Loves.
All things that are, but Silvio, are in love,
The burthen's that: Here, round us, and above,
No soul but Silvio is a foe to joy.
Leave, leave the woods, leave following beasts, fond boy,
And follow Love.

Sil.
Had I my tender yeers
Committed to the care of thy gray hairs,
That thou shouldst thus effeminate my heart
With love? Knowst thou who I am? who thou art?

Lin.
Thou art a man (or shouldst be one) and I
Another; what I teach Humanity.
And if thou scorn that name (which is my pride)
Take heed, in stead of being deifi'd,
Thou turn not beast.

Sil.
That monster-taming King,
From whom my lofty pedegree I bring,
Had never grown so valiant, nor so fam'd,
If first the monster Love he had not tam'd.

Lin.
See foolish youth, how idly thou talkst now!
Had great Alcides been no Lover, how
Hadst thou been born? Rather, if he orecame
Monsters and men, to Love impute the same.
Knowst thou not yet, that to comply with fair
Omphales humour, he not onely ware
(In stead of the fierce Lions rugged skin)
Womens soft robes, but taught those hands to spin,
And hold a feeble distaffe, which did bear
The knotty Club? His interludes these were
Between his Acts; And when his ribs were beat
With dear-bought Counquests, he would then retreat
Into her lap (the bay of sweet delight)
As in Love's port to be new built for fight.
“His sighs from his past toils sweet breathings were,
“And spirits strengthning him new toils to bear.
“For as the iron, of it self too rough,
“And of a harsh unmalleable stuffe,
“Softned with fire, and gentler metall, strength
“From weaknesse gathers, and becomes at length
“Fit for the noblest use: so hearts untam'd,
“(Which their own stifnesse often breaks) enflam'd
“With generous Love, and with his sweets allay'd,
“Are cleerer, apter for great Actions made.
If th'art ambitious then to imitate
Great Hercules, and not degenerate
From thy high strain, since woods thou dost affect,
Follow the woods, but do not Love neglect:
I mean so lawfull and so worthy love
As that of Amarillis. I approve
(So far from blaming that as cruelty)
Thy shunning of Dorinda; For in thee
Who standst upon thy bloud, 'twere double shame
To scorch thy brest with an unlawfull flame,
For injuring thy Spouse.

Sil.
What saist thou man?
Shee is not yet my Spouse.

Lin.
Was there not than
A promise solemnly receiv'd and giv'n?
Take heed proud Boy, how thou provokest Heav'n.

Sil.
“Man's freedom is Heav'ns gift, which doth not take
“Us at our word when forced vows we make.

Lin.
I, but (unlesse our hopes and judgements fail)
Heav'n made this Match, and promis'd to entail
A thousand blessings on't.

Sil.
'Tis like that there
Is nothing else to do; a proper care
To vex the calm rest of the gods above!
Linco, I like nor this, nor t'other Love.
I was a Huntsman, not a Lover bred;
Thou who art all for love, go back to bed.

Lin.
Thou sprung from Heav'n, harsh Boy? nor of divine
Can I suppose thee, nor of humane Line.
Alecto's poyson thy cold limbs did fashion;
Sweet Venus had no hand in thy creation.

Scena secunda.

Mirtillo, Ergasto.
Mirt.
O Amarillis, Authresse of my flame,
(Within my mouth how sweet now is thy name!
But in my heart how bitter!) Amarillis,
Fairer and whiter then the whitest Lillies,
But crueller then cruell Adders far,
Which having stung (least they should pitie) bar
Their ears, and flie: If then by speaking I
Offend thee, I will hold my peace and die.
I'll hold my peace, but what will that do good,
If hils and dales roar for me, and this wood
Which thy deer name can nere forget, from me
So often heard, and carv'd on every tree?
The windes shall sigh for me, the fountains shed:
Abundant tears, grief mourn, and pitie plead.
Or couldst thou bribe whole Nature with a fee
To silence, lastly Death shall speak for me:
Hee'll thunder't out, and to the world proclaim,
I dy'd a Martyr in my true Loves flame.

Erg.
Mirtillo, “Love is a great pain at best,
“But more, by how much more it is supprest.
“For as hot Steeds run faster at the check,
“Then if you laid the reins upon their neck:
“So love restrain'd augments, and fiercer growes
“In a close prison, then when loose he goes.
Why hidst thou thy flames cause so long from me,
When the effect could not concealed be?
Mirtillo burns: how often have I said?
But inward burns, and will not call for aid.

Mirt.
Courteous Ergasto, out of my respect
To her (alas) I did my self neglect:
Nor would my festring passion yet unfold,
But that necessity hath made me bold.
I hear a buzzing rumour every-where
(Which to my heart findes passage through my ear)
That Amarillis shortly weds; nor dare
Ask more, lest so I should my love declare,
Or prove my fear too true. Full well I know
(Nor hath Love strook me blind) that in my low
And slender fortunes, it were simple pride
To hope a Nymph so shap't, so qualifi'd,
So rais'd in wealth, in spirit, and in blood,
Above all these, so gentle, and so good,
Can ere be mine: no, I have tane the height
Of my unhappy Star, my sullen fate
Made me for fuell onely, born to smother
In fires I cannot kindle in another.
Yet since Fate's pleas'd I should affect death more
Then life, at least I'ld have her know before,
That shee's beholding to me for my death,
And deigne when I sigh out my latest breath
To cast her fair eyes on me, and say, Dye.
This reasonable boon obtain would I,
That ere she go to make another blest
In having her, shee'ld hear me speak at least,
But once, my deer Ergasto. Now if love
Or pitie of me thy soft entrails move,
Procure me this, this physick onely lend,
To make the passage easie to my end.

Erg.
From one that loves, a just, from one that dies,
A small request: yet a hard enterprize.
Woe be to her, should her stern father hear
That to stoln prayr's she ere had lent an ear!
Or if some baser pick-thank should disclose
It to the Priest her father-in-law! Who knows
But out of these respects she may eschew
Thy company, and yet affect thee too?
“For women are more prone to love then men;
“But to conceal't have more discretion then.
And if 'twere true that she did love thee, what
Could shee do lesse then shun thee for all that?
“She that wants power to help listens in vain,
“And flies with pity, when her stay breeds pain;
“And I have heard 'tis still the wisest course
“To quit that soon which one must quit perforce.

Mir.
O were this true, and could I think it so,
Sweet were my pain, and fortunate my woe!
But deer Ergasto (hide it not from me
So help thee Pan) who may this Bridegroom be
So lov'd of all the Starres?

Erg.
Dost thou not know
(I'm sure thou dost) that famous Silvio,
Silvio the rich, the gallant and the fair,
The Priest Montano's onely Son and Heir?
'Tis he.

Mir.
O happy youth, whose joy appears
So ripe for harvest in his spring of yeers!
Pardon me gentle swain, I envie not
Thy happinesse, but mourn my own hard lot.

Erg.
Indeed there is no reason to envy,
Rather to pity him.

Mirt.
To pity? Why?

Erg.
Because he loves her not.

Mirt.
And hath he wit?
Hath he a heart? Is he not blind?—And yet
When I consider with what full aspect
Her starry eyes their influence direct
Into my brest, she cannot have a dart
Left in her quiver for another heart.
But why do they a gemme so precious throw
To one that knows it not, and scorns it so?

Erg.
Because the Heav'ns did through this Marriage
Unto Arcadia long ago presage
Deliverance. Hast not thou heard that here
Is paid to the great Goddesse ev'ry yeer
Of a Nymph's guiltlesse bloud a cruell and
Unconscionable tribute by this Land?

Mirt.
'Tis news to me; nor let that strange appear,
Since I my self am but a stranger here,
And since I came (by Fate's decree and Love's)
Almost a constant Burgesse of the Groves.
But what strange crime deserv'd so sharp a doom?
How could such monstrous cruelty finde room
In a Celestiall minde?

Erg.
Of me then know
From the first head the torrent of our wo:
A Story that would tears of pitie wrest
From heart of oak, much more from humane brest.
Whilest yet the Priesthood was not ty'd to age,
A youthfull swain of noble Parentage,
Then Dian's Priest (Aminta was his name)
The Nymph Lucrina did with love enflame.
All creatures of her sex exceeded shee
As much in beauty as unconstancie.
She long requited, or at least to sight
(If looks and eyes have tongues) she did requite
The pure affection of the Love-sick lad,
And fed his hopes whilst he no Rivall had.
But when a rustick swain her favour sought,
(See now a perfect woman!) in a thought,
She left the former, with one sigh was shook,
With the faint batt'ry of one amorous look:
Her hearts new guest now takes up all the room,
Dislodg'd Aminta ere he knew for whom.
Haplesse Aminta! who from that day forth
Was so abhorr'd, held of so little worth,
By that ungrate whom he did still adore,
That she would neither hear nor see him more.
If this unkindnesse cut the wretch to th'heart,
If he sigh'd, wept, and rav'd, to thee who art
Acquainted with Love's pangs, I leave to ghesse.

Mir.
O, 'Twas a torment no man can expresse!

Erg.
When then his tears and prayers he had cast
After his heart, to Dian turn'd at last;
If ever with pure heart Goddesse (quoth he)
And guiltlesse hand I kindled flame to thee,
Revenge my faith, which a persidious Maid
Under safe conduct of her smiles betraid.
The Goddesse (gentler then the Nymph was) hears
The faithfull Lover's and her servant's tears
And prayr's: and pity kindling her just ire,
By opposition did augment the fire
Her pow'rfull bow into her hand she took,
And in Arcadia's wretched bosome stuck
Arrows of death and catching Pestilence
Invisible, and therefore without fence.
Without remorse they execute her rage
Without respect on every sex and age.
Nor Antidotes nor Med'cines here avail'd,
Nor flying now; weak Art her Master fail'd:
And oft, whilst he the remedy apply'd,
Before the Patient the Physitian dy'd.
The onely hope that's left is from the skie,
So to the neerest Oracle they flie,
Which soon return'd an answer cleer enough,
But above measure terrible and rough;
That Cinthia was incenst, but that the Land
Might be reliev'd, if by Aminta's hand
That faithlesse Nymph Lucrina, or some one
For her, of the Arcadian Nation
Were as an offring to Diana slain.
So she, when long sh'had prayd, long wept in vain,
And long expected her new Lovers ayd,
To th'holy Altars like a Bride array'd,
And with what pomp Religion could devise,
Was led a miserable Sacrifice.
Where at those feet from which hers fled so fast,
(The feet of her Idolater) at last
Bending her trembling knees, she did attend
From the offended youth a cruell end.
The sacred knife he boldly did unsheathe,
Rage and revenge his nostrils seem'd to breathe,
His eyes to sparkle; turning then to her,
Said with a sigh (death's hollow messenger,)
Whom thou hast left Lucrina, and whom took,
Learn by this blow: And with that word he strook
Himself, and plung'd the knife in his own brest
To th'haft: In one both Sacrifice and Priest
Fell bleeding at her feet, whilst she (amaz'd
To see that dire unlookt for object) gaz'd
As one 'twixt life and death, nor yet did know
If grief had stab'd her, or the threatned blow.
But when she found her tongue again, and knew
Distinctly what was acted there, O true,
O brave Aminta, (bathing in a flood
Of tears) she said! O Lover, understood
Too late! who by thy death dost give to me
Both life and death. If in forsaking thee
I sinn'd; lo, I redeem that sin of mine,
Wedding my soul eternally to thine.
This said, that knife fresh reeking with the gore
Of the now lov'd in death, and purpled ore,
She drew from his pale brest, and in her own
Sheath'd it again; then willingly sunk down
Into Aminta's arms, who yet had breath,
And felt perchance that lightning before death.
Such was this pair of Lovers tragick fall,
'Cause he kept too much faith, she none at all.

Mir.
O haplesse swain, yet happy in his Love,
Having so rich occasion to approve
His spotlesse faith, and dying to revive
That spark in her he could not being alive!
But what became then of the poor diseas'd?
Did the plague cease? was Cinthia's wrath appeas'd?

Erg.
It did relent, but was not quite put out:
For the same month (the yeer being wheel'd about)
It burst out with more fury, and did make
A dire relapse: This forc'd us to betake
Our selves unto the Oracle agen;
Which utterd now a sadder doom; That then
And yeerly, we to Nights offended Queen
A Maid or Wife should offer, past fifteen
And short of twenty; by which means the rage
Which swallow'd thousands, one death should asswage.
Moreover a hard law, and weighing well
The nature of that sex, impossible
To keep; a law in bloudy letters writ
On wretched women was impos'd by it;
That whatsoever Maid or Wife should prove
In any sort a changeling in her love,
Unlesse some friend would pay the penalty
In stead of her, should without mercy die.
This dire, this nationall Calamitie
The good old man hath hope to remedie
By means of this desired Match; because
The Oracle after some little pawse
Being ask'd again, what end our woe should have,
To our demand this punctuall answer gave;
Your woe shall end when two of Race Divine
Love shall combine:
And for a faithlesse Nymphs apostate state
A faithfull Shepherd supererogate.
Now there are left in all Arcadia
Of heavenly Stock no other slps this day
But Silvio and Amarillis; She
From Pan descended, from Alcides He.
Nor had there ever (to our much regret)
Of those two Lines a Male and Female met,
As now there do: whence the believing Father
Great hopes of good not without cause doth gather.
For though the things foretold by th'Oracle
Be not fulfill'd yet in each particle,
This is the fundamentall point; the rest
Is still reserv'd in Fates own secret brest,
And of the Marriage one day shall ensue.

Mir.
And all this do Mirtillo to undoe?
What a long swing is fetcht! what armies band
Against one heart half murtherd to their hand!
Is't not enough that cruell Love's my foe,
Unlesse Fate too conspire my overthrow?

Erg.
Alas, Mirtillo! grieving does no good,
“Tears quench not Love, but are his milk and food.
'T shall scape me hard, but ere the Sun descend
This cruell one shall hear thee, Courage friend:
“These sighs refresh not (as thou dost suppose)
“Thy burning heart; but rather are like those
“Impetuous winds, which in a Town on fire
“The bellows are to blow and fan it higher:
“Love's whirlwinds, bringing to poor Lovers ever
“Black clouds of grief, which showrs of tears deliver.

Scena tertia.

Corisca.
Who ever saw, what heart did ever prove
So strange, fond, impotent a Passion? Love,
And cold Disdain (a miracle to me
Two contraries should in one subject be
Both in extremes!) I know not how, each other
Destroy, and generate; enflame, and smother.
When I behold Mirtillo's every grace,
From his neat foot to his bewitching face,
His unaffected carriage, sweet aspect,
Words, actions, looks, and manners, they eject
Such flames of love, that every passion
Besides seems to be conquerd by this one.
But when I think how dotingly he prizes
Another woman, and for her despises
My almost peerlesse face (although I say't)
On which a thousand eyes for alms do wait,
Then do I scorn, abhor, and loath him more
Then ever I did value him before,
And scarce can think it possible that he
Had ever any interest in me.
O if my sweet Mirtillo were mine own,
So that I had him to my self alone!
(These are my thoughts sometimes) no mortall wight
More blisse could boast of then Corisca might!
And then I feel such kindly flames, so sweet
A vapour rise, that I could almost meet
His love half way; yea, follow him, adore
His very steps, and aid from him implore:
Nay, I do love him so, I could expire
His sacrifice in such a pleasing fire.
Then I'm my self again: And what (say I)
A proud disdainfull boy! one that doth fly
From me, and love another! that can look
Upon this face of mine, and not be strook!
But guard himself so well as not to dye
For love! Shall I, that should behold him lye
Trembling and weeping at these feet of mine
(As many better men have done) incline
Trembling and weeping at his feet? O no!
And with this thought into such rage I grow
Against my self, and him, that sounding straight
Unto my eyes and fancy a retreat,
Mirtillo's name worser then death I seem
To hate, and mine own self for loving him;
Whom I would see the miserablest swain,
The most despised thing that doth remain
Upon the earth; and if I had my will,
With mine own hands I could the villain kill.
Thus like two seas encountring, Hate and Love,
Desire and Scorn in me dire battell move:
And I (the flame of thousand hearts, the rack
Of thousand souls) languish, and burn, and lack
That pitie I deny'd to others. I
Who have in Cities oft been courted by
Gallants and wits, to whom great Lords have bent,
And yet withstood vollies of complement,
Squadrons of Lovers, jeer'd their idle fires,
And with false hopes deluded their desires;
And now enforc'd t'a rustick swain to yeild
In single sight t'a fellow that's unskill'd!
O thoü most wretched of all womankind
Corisca! Where couldst thou diversion find
Hadst thou no other Lover? how asswage,
Or by what means deceive thy amorous rage?
Learn women all from me this housewifery,
Make you conserve of Lovers to keep by.
Had I no Sweet-heart but this sullen Boy,
Were I not well provided of a joy?
“To extreme want how likely to be hurl'd
“Is that ill houswife, who in all the world
“But one Love onely, but one Servant hath?
Corisca will be no such fool. “What's faith?
“What's constancy? Tales which the jealous feign
“To awe fond girls: names as absurd as vain.
“Faith in a woman (if at least there be
Faith in a woman unreveal'd to me)
“Is not a vertue, nor a heavenly grace,
“But the sad penance of a ruin'd face,
“That's pleas'd with one, cause it can please no more.
“A handsome woman sought unto by store
“Of gallant youths, if pleas'd with one alone
No woman is, or is a foolish one.
“What's beauty (tell me) if not view'd? or view'd,
“If not pursu'd? or if pursu'd, pursu'd
“By one alone? Where Lovers frequent are,
“It is a signe the partie lov'd is rare,
“Glorious and bright. A womans honour is
“T'have many Servants: Courtly Dames know this,
Who live in Towns, and those most practise it
Who have most wealth, most beauty, and most wit.
'Tis clownishnesse (say they) to reject any,
And folly too, since that's perform'd by many,
One cannot do: One Officer to wait,
A second to present, a third to prate,
A fourth for somewhat else; so it doth fall
Out oft, that favours being generall
No favours seem: or jealousie thus throwne
To whet them, all are easier kept then one.
This merry life is by great Ladies led
In Towns, and 'twas my fortune to be bred
with one of them; by whose example first,
Next by her rules, I in Loves art was nurst
Up from my childhood: she would often say,
“Corisca, thou must use another day
“Thy Lovers like thy garments, put on one,
“Have many, often shift, and wear out none.
“For daily conversation breeds distast,
“Distast contempt, and loathing at the last.
Then get the start, let not the servant say,
H'as turnd his Mistresse, not she him, away.
And I have kept her rules: I've choice, and strive
To please them all: to this my hand I give,
And wink on him; the handsom'st I admit
Into my bosome; but not one shall get
Into my heart: and yet I know not how
(Ay me!) Mirtillo's crept too neer it now.
He made me sigh, not sigh as heretofore
To give false fire, but true flames to deplore;
Robbing my limbs of rest, my eyes of sleep,
Ev'n I can watch till the gray morning peep
(The discontented Lovers truce); ev'n I
(Strange change!) to melancholy walks can fly;
And through the gloomy horrors of this grove
Trace the sweet footsteps of my hated Love.
What wilt thou do, Corisca? sue? my hate
Permits not this, nor stands it with my State.
Wilt thou then fly him? That would shew more brains,
But Love sayes no to that: What then remains?
First I will try allurements, and discover
The love to him, but will conceal the Lover;
I'll use deceipts, if that avail me not;
And if those fail me too, my brain shall plot
A brave revenge: Mirtillo shall partake
Hate, if he spurn at Love; and I will make
His Amarillis rue, that she was ere
A Rivall unto me, to him so deer.
Last I will teach you both what 'tis to move
A woman to abhor where she did love.

Scena quarta.

Titiro, Montano, Dametas.
Tit.
I speak Montano what I know is true,
And speak to one who knows more then I do.
“Your Oracles are still obscurer farre
“Then we imagine: and their answers are
“Like knives, which if they warily be caught
“By that safe part which for the hand was wrought,
“Are usefull; but if rashly they be tane
“By th'edge or point, one may be hurt or slain.
That Amarillis (as thou argu'st) should
By Heav'n be destin'd for the gen'rall good
And safety of Arcadia, who should rather
Desire and joy, then I who am her Father?
But when I mark the words of th'Oracle,
Me thinks with those the signes agree not well.
If Love must joyn them, and the one doth fly,
How can that be? How can the strings which tie
The true-Love's knot be hatred and disdain?
“That cannot be oppos'd which Heav'ns ordain:
Since then we see such opposition here,
That Heav'ns did not ordain it, is most cleer.
Had they been pleas'd that Silvio should have had
My Amarillis, they would him have made
A Lover, not a Huntsman.

Mont.
Dost not see,
He's young, not yet seventeen? In time ev'n he
Will feel the dart of Love.

Tit.
A dog hath got
His love: I know not why a Nymph should not.

Mont.
“Youths are inclined more to recreation.

Tit.
“And is not love a nat'rall inclination?

Mont.
“Before the time 'tis an unnat'rall thing.

Tit.
“Love is a blossome which adorns our spring.

Mont.
“Your forward blossoms seldom come to good.

Tit.
“They seldom fail where frosts nip not the bud.
But came I hither to dispute with thee,
Montano? I nor can, nor fits it me.
Yet I'm a Father too of a most deer
And onely child; and (if Love do not blear
My eyes) a worthy one; such (under favour)
That many woo'd me, and still do to have her.

Mont.
Were not this Marriage made in heav'n by Fate,
'Tis made in earth by Faith, to violate
Which (Titiro) were rashly to prophane
The godhead of great Cynthia, in whose Fane
The solemn oath was taken. Now how ready
She is to wrath, and how incens'd already
Against this Country, thou art not to learn.
But I professe, as far as I discern,
And a Priest's mind rapt up above the skie
Into th'eternall counsels there can prie,
This knot by th'hand of Destiny was knit,
And all those signes which should accompan' it
(Have thou but Faith) will fall out jump and right
In their due time. I'll tell thee more; this night
I in my dream a certain thing have view'd,
Which my old hopes hath more then ere renew'd.

Tit.
“Dreams are but dreams: but well, what didst thou view?

Mont.
Thou dost remember, I presume (for who
Amongst us all is such a stupid wight
As to forget?) that lamentable night
When swelling Ladon (weary of his yoke)
The banks with his rebellious waters broke;
So that where birds were wont to build their nests,
Usurping fishes swam, and men, and beasts,
And flocks, and herds promiscuously tane
Th'impartiall deluge swept into the Main.
That very night (O bitter memory!)
I lost my heart, or rather that which I
More dearly priz'd, a child, a tender one
In swathing bands, and then my onely son.
Both then and since (though he be dead) as deer
To me, as if my onely son he were:
The cruel torrent ravish'd him away
Before the people of the house (who lay
In darknesse, fear and sleep buri'd alive)
With any timely succour could arrive:
We could not find the empty cradle neither,
But (as I ghesse) that and the child together
Were swallow'd by the flood.

Tit.
What else can be
Suppos'd? I think I've heard (perchance from thee)
This losse of thine before, in very truth
A miserable one, and full of ruth;
And I may say, of thy two sons the Floods
Have swallow'd one, the other's lost i'th'Woods.

Mont.
Perhaps kind Heav'ns in the surviving brother
Will make me rich amends yet for the other:
“'Tis alwayes good to hope. Now list me out:
'Twas at the dawning of the morn, about
That mungrell hour which gotten betwixt night
And day, is half an Ethiop and half white,
When having watcht out all the night almost,
With various fancies of this Marriage tost,
Quite overcome at length with wearinesse,
A gentle slumber did mine eyes oppresse,
Which with it such a lively vision brought,
That though I slept, I was awake. Methought,
On fam'd Alfeo's bank I angling sate
Under a shady Beech, there came up straight
A grave old man, down to the middle bare,
His chin all dropping, and his grisled hair;
Who with both hands, and countenance beni'ne
Put a nak'd weeping infant into mine,
Saying, Lo here thy Son, and take good heed
Thou kill him not; then div'd into the reed.
With that, black clouds obscur'd the Heavens round,
And threatning me with a dire tempest, frown'd.
I to my bosome clapt the babe for fear,
And cry'd, Shall then one hour both give and bear
Away my joy? Straight all the welkin turn'd
Serene, and thunderbolts to ashes burn'd
Fell hissing in the River, with bows broken
And shafts by thousands, signes which did betoken
Extinguisht vengeance; then a shrill voice brake
From the riv'd Beech, which in his tongue thus spake,
Believe Montano, and thy hope still nourish,
Thy fair Arcadia once again shall flourish.
So ever since in my eyes, mind, and brest
The pleasing figure of this dream's imprest,
Standing before me still in every place;
But above all, the courteous meen and face
Of that old man (me thinks I see him wet)
Which made me coming now, when thee I met,
Directly to the Temple, there with pure
And holy Sacrifice my Dream t'insure.

Tit.
“Truely Montano, Dreams are Histories
“Of what is past, rather then Prophecies
“Of what's to come: Meer fragments of some sight,
“Or thought of the past day, which prints at night
“A vain reflection of it self, like those
“Which in a cloud the Sunne opposed shows.

Mont.
“Not alwayes with the senses sleeps the soul:
“Rather when she is free from all controll
“Of cousening forms, which do the senses blinde,
“Whilst they're asleep, more wakefull is the minde.

Tit.
In short: how Heav'ns have destin'd to dispose
Of our two children, neither of us knows.
But this is cleer to both of us, thine flyes,
And against Nature's law, doth Love's despise.
And mine (as't proves) is ty'd; her self yet hath
No benefit of her engaged faith.
Nor do I know whether she love or no:
That she makes others love, full well I know;
And can I think it probable that shee
Should others wound, and go her self still free?
Mee thinks of late she's alter'd in her cheer,
Who us'd all Mirth and Jollity t'appear.
“But to put Maids in mind of marrying,
“And then not marry them, is an ill thing.
“As in a curious garden a fair Rose,
“Which (cloystred up in leaves) did late repose
“Under the sable canopie of night
“Upon its mother-stalk, with the first light
“Raises its head, then opes its tender eye,
“Whence whispring Bees suck Nectar as they fly;
“Then to the Sun which on its form doth gaze,
“Its purple and perfumed brest displayes:
“But if it be not gatherd then, and stay
“Till it be kist by the Meridian Ray,
“Before the Sun to th'other world be fled,
“Upon its mourning stalk it hangs the head;
“So pale, so shrunk, so without life it showes,
“That one can hardly say, This was a Rose.
“So a young Virgin, whilst her Mothers care
“Shuts and preserves her from the blasting air,
“Shuts her own bosom too against desire:
“But if she find some amorous youth to eye her,
“And hears him sigh, she opes him straight her heart,
“And in her tender brest receives Love's dart.
“Then if by fear, or else by maiden shame,
“She be withheld from shewing of her flame,
“(Poor soul!) Concealment like a worm i'th'bud,
“Lies in her Damask cheek sucking the bloud:
“So all her beauty's gone, if that fire last,
“And all her Lovers when her Beauty's past.

Mont.
Take courage Titiro; do not embase
Thy soul with mortall fears, but nobly place
Thy hopes above; “Heav'n favours a strong faith,
“And a faint pray'r nere clomb that arduous path.
“And if all men should pray to Heav'n at need,
“And pray with hope, much more should Heav'ns own seed
Our childrens Pedigree it is Divine,
“And Heav'n that shines on all, will surely shine
“On its own Progenie. Come Titiro,
Together to the Temple let us go,
Together offer, thou a hee-goat there,
To Pan, and I to Hercules a Steer.
“The Gods who blesse the herds, will blesse no lesse
“Them, who the Gods do with those blessings blesse.
Trusty Dametas go, and quickly cull
From my fair herd the best and gentlest Bull,
And bring him to me to the Temple straight;
Come by the hill, the neerest way is that.

Tit.
And good Dametas, from my herd bring one
Of the best Goats.

Dam.
Both shall with speed be done.
May the high Gods pleas'd in their goodnesse be
To blesse (Montano) this thy Dream to thee,
Ev'n to thy utmost wish: this memory
Of thy lost son is a good augury.

Scena quinta.

Satyr.
“As frosts to Plants, to ripened Ears a storm,
To Flowrs the mid-day sun, to Seed the worm,
“To Stags the toyls, to Birds the lime-twig; so
“Is Love to man an everlasting Foe.
And he that call'd it fire pierc'd well into
Its treach'rous nature; for if fire thou view,
How bright and beautifull it is? Approacht,
How warm and comfortable? But then toucht,
O how it burns! The monster-bearing earth
Did never teem such a prodigious birth:
It cuts like razors, like wild beasts devours,
And through a wood like winged lightning scowrs.
Where-ere it fixes its imperious foot,
Cottage and Pallace, all must yeeld unto't:
So Love, if thou behold it in a pair
Of starry eyes, in a bright tresse of hair,
How temptingly it looks! what kindly flames
It breathes! what peace, what pardons it proclaims!
But in thy bosome if thou do it keep,
So that it gather strength, and 'gin to creep,
No Tygresse in Hircanian mountains nurst,
No Lybian Lionesse is half so curst,
Nor frozen Snake fostred with humane breath.
His flames are hot as hell, bonds strong as death;
He is Wrath's hangman, Pitie's enemy,
And to conclude, Love void of love. But why
Accuse I him? Is he the Authour then
Of all those pranks which mortal wights, not when
They are in love, but out of their wits, do?
Women, perfidious women, 'tis to you
That I impute Love's rancour; all that's naught
In him from you is by infection caught.
He of himself is good, meek as the Dove
That draws the chariot of the Queen of Love:
But you have made him wild; for though ye joy
With your own hands to feed the winged Boy,
Yet do you shut each pore so of your brest,
That in your hearts He cannot build his nest.
And all your care, pride, pleasure ye do place
In the meer outside of a simpring face.
Nor is't your study how to pay true love,
And wager whether shall more constant prove;
To bind two souls in one, and of one heart
To make the other but the counter-part;
But how your silver hair with gold to hatch,
Then purse it up into a net, to catch
Poor souls withall, and like gold valence let
Some curles hang dangling ore your brows of jet.
How much against my stomack doth it go
To see you paint your cheeks, to cover so
The faults of Time and Nature! How ye make
Pale Feulemort a pure Vermilian take,
Fill up the wrincles, die black white, a spot
With a spot hide, where 'tis, make't where 'tis not.
You tie a thred acrosse, whereof one end
Held in your teeth, the other is sustein'd
By your left hand, whilst of the running knot
Your right hand makes a noose to ope and shut
Like shaving tongs: This instrument you fit
To your rough downy forheads, and with it
Shave all the down, and the wild hairs which shoot
Above their fellows, pull up by the root;
And all the while such torment you are in,
That 'tis at once a penance and a sin.
Nor is this all; your qualities are much
After your faces, and your faith is such
As are your works. For what is there in you
That is not counterfeit and painted too?
Do your lips ope? before ye speak ye lye;
And if ye sigh, ye lye most damnably.
False lights your eyes are, and false weights your ears;
Your hearts false measures, and false pearl your tears:
So talk, or look, or think, or laugh, or cry,
Seem or seem not, walk, stand, or sit, ye lye.
Nay, there's more yet, your cousening those
Most who on you do most repose;
Your loving most those who do least love you,
And chusing to die rather then be true;
These are the arts, these are the wayes
That make Love hatefull in our dayes.
All his faults then we may most justly lay
On you; or rather on our selves: for they
Sin that believe you. Then the fault's in me
(Perjur'd Corisca) who did credit thee;
Come hither onely for my bane (I think)
From Argos wicked streets, of vice the sink.
Yet th'art so sly, and play'st so well the Scout,
To keep thy deeds and thoughts from tracing out,
That 'mongst the chastest Dames thou jettst it now,
With honesty stampt on thy haughty brow:
What scorns have I receiv'd, what discontent
From this ungratefull woman! I repent,
Yea, blush I was so fond. Example take
By me, unskilfull Lovers, how ye make
“An Idol of a face, and take't for granted,
“There's no such divell as a woman sainted.
“She thinks her wit and beauty without peer,
“And o're thy slavish soul doth domineer
“Like some great Goddesse, counting thou wert born
“(As a thing mortall) onely for her scorn;
“Takes all that praise as tribute of her merit
“Which is the flattry of thy abject spirit.
Why so much serving? so much admirations?
Such sighs, such tears, such humble supplications?
These are the woman's arms: Let us expresse
Ev'n in our Loves valour and manlinesse.
Time was when I (as lusty as I am)
Thought tears and sighs could womans heart enflame.
But now I find I err'd; for if she bears
A stony heart, in vain are sighs and tears.
We must strike fire out of her brest by dint
Of steel: what fool us'd bellows to a slint?
Leave, leave thy tears and sighs, if thou wouldst make
A conquest of thy Dame; and if thou bake
Indeed with unextinguishable fire,
In thy hearts center smother thy desire
The best thou canst, and watch thy time to doe
That which both Love and Nature prompt thee to,
“For Modestie's the charter of the woman,
“Who wil not have her priviledge made common;
“Nor though she uses it her self with men,
“Would she have them to use't with her agen
“Being a vertue for the admiration
“Of them that court her, not their imitation.
This is the plain and naturall way of Love,
Indeed the onely one that I approve.
My coy Corisca shall not finde of me
A bashfull Lover (as I us'd to be)
But a bold Foe, and she shall feel I can
Assault her with the weapons of a man,
Aswell as with the womans arms. Twice now
I've caught this Eel, and yet I know not how
She hath slipt through my hands; but if she come
A third time neer my boat, I'le strike so home
Through both her gils, that I shall marre her flight.
Here she comes forth to Rellief ev'ry night,
And I like a good hound snuffe round about
To find her track: If I do sent her out,
Have at her coat; O how I mean to be
Reveng'd upon her! I will make her see
That Love sometimes (though he appear stark blind)
Can from his eyes the hand-kerchief unbind:
And that no woman (though she may awhile)
Can glory long in perjury and guile.

Chorus.