University of Virginia Library

Actus Secundus.

Scena Prima.

ERGATSO, MIRTILLO.
Erg.
O what a walk have I had! At the Race,
The Mead, Hill, River, Fountain, wrastling Place
I've been to seek thee: Heav'n be prais'd, at last
I've found thee here.

Mir.
What news requires such haste?
Bringst thou me life or death?

Erg.
The last's a thing,
Which if I had for thee, I would not bring:
The former, though I have not for thee yet,
I hope to bring. But why art thou ore-set
With thy own sighs? If thou wouldst overcome
Another, overcome thy self at home:
Breathe, and revy't again—. But to proceed
To that which made me seek thee with such speed;
The matter's this: Knowst thou (who doth not know?)
Ormino's Sister? rather tall then low
She is of stature, cherry-cheekt, her hair
Inclin'd to red, and of a sprightly ayr.

Mirt.
What is her name?

Erg.
Corisca.

Mir.
Yes, I do
Know her, and have conversed with her too.

Erg.

Know then that she (see the good luck on't! What
hath been the means to work it I know not,

Or on whose score it comes) is grown of late
With Amarillis very intimate.
Which I perceiving, a relation made
Of thy affection unto her, and praid
Both her assistance and her secrecie
Therein, which she accorded readily.

Mirt.
O blest a thousand thousand times and more
Then all (Mirtillo) that ere lov'd before,
If this be true: But prethee, did she say
Nothing at all unto thee of the way?

Erg.
Nothing as yet, and I will tell thee why:
Corisca said, shee could not certainly
Determine of the way till she might know
Some circumstances of thy love, that so
She might be better able to discern
The inclination of the Nymph, and learn
How to addresse her selfe, with subtilty,
Or with intreaties; what t'were best to try,
Or what to leave: This was the cause made mee
To come so hastily in search of thee.
Therefore from first to last thou shalt doe well
Thy Love's whole story unto me to tell.

Mirt.

Erg.
O Love's piercing steel,
Which they alone can understand that feel!

Mir.
But now to see what cunning Love suggests
Ev'n to the youngest and the simplest brests!
I made a deer young Sister of mine own
(Who was my cruell Nymph's companion
Whilst she in Elis and in Pisa staid)
Acquainted with my pain. This silly maid
Was all the councell Love allotted me
For managing my amorous bus'nesse: she
With her own garments decks me in great order,
And imps my short hair with a borrow'd border,
Then braids it all with flowrs, hanging a bow
And Quiver by my side, and last doth show
How I should frame my words and count'nance, where
No footsteps of a beard did then appear.
The hour approached, she conducted me
Where my Nymph us'd to play; and there found we
Some Noble Megarensian Maids, whom Blood
And Love linkt to her, as I understood.
'Mongst them was she like Royall Rose 'mongst low—
Born Violets: And when as they had so
For a good space without more pastime staid,
A Megarensian Virgin rose, and said;
What, at a time for Pastime so renown'd
Shall we without our sports be idle found!
And have not (Sisters) we our weapons then
To make mock-fights withall as well as men?
By my advice wee'll practice our arms now
Against our selves in jest, as we must do
In earnest one day against men: Let's kisse,
And wage a kissing warre; and she that gi's
The best and sav'rest one, shall have for meed
This curious wreath. All laught, and cry'd Agreed.
Forthwith, not staying for the word or signe,
These eager Amazons in battell joyn:
No ranks they kept, no colours knew, nor side,
But all confused, and each each defy'd.
The Megarensian this perceiving, straight
To the disordered Troops sounds a retrait;
And after saith; Let her deservedly
The Judge of all our kisses be
Whose mouth is fairest. With one voice
Of peerlesse Amarillis they made choice.
She sweetly bending her fair eyes,
Her cheeks in modest blushes dyes,
To shew through her transparent skin
That she is no lesse fair within
Then shee's without; or else her countenance
Envying the honour done her mouth perchance,
Puts on her scarlet robes, as who
Should say, And am not I fair too?

Erg.
Blest man to be transform'd at such a time,
As if this accident thou couldst divine!

Mirt.
The fair Judge takes her seat, and now renews
The amorous fight, according to the use
Of war; by lots they march up one by one,
To try their mouthes by hers (the Paragon
Of sweetnesse) or (as I may term it well)
Of orient pearls a perfum'd Indian shell,
And the two lips a two-leav'd Coral door
With honyed lock, to ope and shut with more
Facility upon the pearly treasure.
O my Ergast' that I could tell the pleasure
Of those sweet kisses! But do thou hence ghesse it,
That mouth which tasted it, cannot expresse it.
Extract then all the sweetnesse which remains
In Hybla-combs, in Cyprian Sugar-canes,
It will be nothing to that world of blisses
I suckt from thence.

Erg.
O happy theft! sweet kisses!

Mirt.
Sweet, but yet lame; the better half was missing,
The soul which gives perfection to kissing:
For though Love gave them, Love restor'd them not.

Erg.
But hadst thou not some fear when 'twas thy lot
To kisse?

Mirt.
My heart (Ergasto) to say true,
Was at my mouth, and my soul shrunk into
A narrow volume; 'twas one kisse, whence all
My limbs stood tott'ring like an ill propt wall.
And when I came under the battery,
And within aim of her sure killing eye,
I fear'd the Majesty of that bright look,
Lest in the very act I should be took
Of theft and guile which I was then about.
But straight her count'nance clearing me that doubt
By a serene and unsuspecting smile,
I ventur'd boldly on. Love stood the while
(Ergasto) like a Bee hid in the leaves
Of her lips Roses; and whilst she receives
The kisses of my mouth with hers unmov'd
And passive, I the honey onely prov'd.
But when she active likewise growes,
And thrusts out this and t'other rose,
(Whether her gayety of heart it was,
Or my good luck, for 'twas not love alas)
When our two mouthes snapt like a bone well set,
And like two tallies that are brothers met,
(O my deer sweet and num'rous treasure!
Do I outlive so great a pleasure?)
Then, then I felt the sharp sweet dart,
The amorous sting piercing my heart.
Which was (it seems) restor'd me then,
That I might have it hurt agen.
I then, as soon as I had found
Her lips had giv'n me my deaths wound,
Was ready, like some desperate gasping wight,
The weapon which had wounded me to bite:
When suddenly her sweet breath, like the blast
Of an inspiring Deity, did cast
An holy damp upon my sawcy blood,
Which all immodest and wild heat withstood.

Erg.
O Modesty, the block and Remora
Which ever lies in the true Lovers way!

Mirt.
Now all of them had had their turns, and come
With thoughts suspended to attend the doom,
When Amarillis judging mine t'exceed
All th'others kisses, plac'd the Victors meed
(That curious wreath) with her own snowy hand
Upon my head. But O! no Lybian sand
Beneath the Syrian dog ere broyl'd so much,
When he both barks and bites; his rage is such,
As my whole heart was then on fire
Betwixt fruition and desire.
And (being never conquerd half so much
As when I was a Conqu'ror) such
My boldnesse was, that from my head
I reacht the wreath to her, and sed,
This is thy due, for thee 'tis meet,
Who with thy mouth hast made my kisses sweet.
And she most courteously accepting it,
For her fair hair made it a Coronet,
And crown'd mine with another, which before
Upon her own divine temples she wore:
Which is the same I now do bear, and shall
(Heav'n willing) to my Funerall,
Wither'd as 'tis, to keep in memory
That happy day; but most to signifie
My wither'd hopes.

Erg.
Thy case doth pity, and not envie claim,
Mirtillo: or hereafter let thy name
“Be Tantalus, for he that iests with Love,
“Or playes with fire, shall pain in earnest prove.
Poor youth! thou took'st up transitory treasure
At too much use, and of thy theft the pleasure
And punishment together didst receive.
But did she never the deceit perceive?

Mirt.
I know not that, Ergasto; this I do,
Whilst shee thought Elis worthy of her view,
She was still bounteous to me of her eye,
And gracious smiles. But my hard destinie
Snatching her thence, unwares to me almost,
I straight came flying hither, where thou knowst
My Father, though he sojourn'd long abroad,
Yet still retains his wonted poor aboad.
I came and saw (O sight!) my day begun
In such a fair and smiling morn, now run
To its long West. When I appear'd in place
The lightning of disdain flash'd in her face;
Then did she bend her eyes, and turn'd away
These Meteors boad my death, then did I say.
Mean while, that I should so by stealth depart,
My tender Father took deeply to heart;
And with the grief on't an infirmity
So terrible, that he was like to die.
This forc'd me back, which prov'd (alas) in one
Health to the Father, sicknesse to the Son.
For half a yeer of a Love-caused feaver
I languisht, and I think had languisht ever,
If my indulgent Father had not sought
In time the Tripods Counsell; whence he brought
This Answer, That th'Arcadian air alone
Could make mee well again. I thereupon
Return'd (Ergasto) to revisite her
(O fallacy of that grand Sophister,
The Oracle!) who made my body whole
To cause eternall sicknesse in my soule.

Erg.
Thou hast related a strange tale in truth,
Mirtillo, a case worthy of much ruth
Without all doubt. “But oft a desperate state
“Hath prov'd the cause that cures as desperate
“Have sav'd the sick. And now 'tis time I goe
To tell Corisca what from thee I know;
Expect me at the Fountain, there will I
Ere long be with thee.

Mirt.
Go on prosperously:
And Heav'n at need that pity shew to thee
(Courteous Ergasto) which thou shewst to me.

Scena secunda.

Dorinda, Lupino, Silvio.
She bringing in Silvio's Dog.
Dor.
Faithfull and fortunate, delight and care
Of my fair Silvio, and as proud as fair.
Thrice fortunate Melampo, that I were
Unto thy cruell Master half so deer!
With that white hand with which he gripes my heart,
He stroaks and he feeds thee. He doth not part
From thee by night, nor part from thee by day;
Whilst I that so much love him, in vain pray,
And sigh in vain. And that which worse I bear
Then all the rest, he gives to thee such deer
And lushious kisses, one of which would make
Me rich, and I too kisse thee for his sake
Happy Melamp'; O dog sent from above
To steer the erring footsteps of blind Love!
Lead on, sure guide, whither Affection mee,
But Nature onely, and Instinct drawes thee.
But list a little, doth not a horn blow
In this neer thicket?

Sil.
Sogh Melampo, Sogh!

Dor.
That is (if Love delude me not) the sound
Of Silvio's voice, who seems to call his hound
About these woods.

Sil.
Melampo, Sogh, hogh, hogh.

Dor.
It is the very voice of Silvio.
Happy Dorinda, to whom Heav'n hath sent
The selfsame thing in search whereof I went!
I'll hide the dog; with that he holds so deer
I may chance buy his love. Lupino!

Lup.
Here.

Dor.
Go take this dog, and hide thee hereabout:
Conceiv'st thou me?

Lup.
I do.

Dor.
But come not out
Untill I call.

Lup.
I wo'n't.

Dor.
Nay, quickly man.

Lup.
And do thou quickly take some order than,
That if the dog should have a hungry sit,
He may not swallow me up at a bit.

Dor.
A Coward? Hence.

Sil.
O whither shall I steer
My wretched steps to follow thee my deer
Faithfull Melampo? over hill and plain
Till I am tir'd and foundred I in vain
Have hunted for thee. Cursed be the Doe
Thou follow'dst. But behold, a Nymph may know
Some news of him! O vile encounter! This
Is she, who with her importunities
Torments me still: but there's no remedy
Save patience now. Fair Nymph, didst thou see my
Faithfull Melampo, whom I slipt while-ere
After a Doe?

Dor.
I (Silvio) fair? I fair?
Why dost thou call me fair, if that I be
Not fair in thy eyes?

Sil.
Fair or fowl, didst see
My dog? Answer me that: if not, I go.

Dor.
So harsh to her adores thee, Silvio?
Who would beleeve in that sweet shape could nest
So sowr a soul? Thou follow'st a wild beast
That flyes thee, over rocks; and for a curre
Vexest thy body and thy minde: but her
That follows thee, and thy content doth prize
Above the world, thou fly'st and dost despise.
Ah! do not follow a wild flying Doe,
Let not a tame one (caught already) goe.
Do not unbind her.

Sil.
Nymph, I came in search
Of my Melampo, not to hear thee preach.
Adieu.

Dor.
O fly not, cruell Silvio:
I'll tell thee news of thy Melampo.

Sil.
Goe,
Thou mockst, Dorinda.

Dor.
By that love I swear
That makes me Silvio's Servant, I know where
He is. Thou sayst he did a Doe pursue?

Sil.
He did: and straight I lost them both from view.

Dor.
The Dog and Doe then at this present time
Are in my pow'r.

Sil.
In thy pow'r?

Dor.
Yes, in mine.
'Twas that I said: Dost thou think much that shee
Should love thy Dog (ungratefull) who loves thee?

Sil.
My deer Dorinda, give 'em to me straight,

Dor.
Our Shittle-cock, I'm come to a fine state
When beasts endeer me to thee. But indeed
(My heart) thou gettst them not without some meed.

Sil.
And reason good, I'll give thee; Let me see—
(I'll cousen her).

Dor.
What wilt thou give to me?

Sil.
Two fair Queen-apples I will give to thee,
Which my own fairer Mother gave to me
The other day.

Dor.
For apples, I want none:
I could give thee two fairer of my own,
And sweeter too, but that thou carest not
For what I give.

Sil.
Then wouldst thou have a goat?
Or Lambkin? (but my Father will not let
Me make so bold with what is his as yet.)

Dor.
Nor Goat, nor Lambkin do I care to have:
Thee onely, Silvio, and thy love I crave.

Sil.
My love? No more?

Dor.
No more.

Sil.
I g'it thee: so,
Give me my Dog (deer Nymph) now, and my Doe.

Dor.
Ah, that thou knewst the worth of what thou art
So bounteous of, and spak'st now from thy heart!

Sil.
Nymph, mark my words: I finde thou talkst to me
Still of a thing call'd Love; what this should be
I know not: thou wouldst have me love thee; and
I doe (as farre as I can understand)
With all my heart: thou call'st me cruell; I
Am ignorant of what is crueltie.
How should I please thee?

Dor.
In whom hop'st thou, poor
Dorinda? whence dost thou expect thy cure?
From such a Beauty as hath felt as yet
No spark of that which doth all Lovers set
On fire? Art thou my flame, and art not hot?
Dost thou breath Love, and what it is knowst not?
That gentle Goddesse whom the Cyprians honour
Took a most beauteous humane shape upon her
To bring thee forth: Fire-brands thou hast and dart,
Witnesse my flaming and my bleeding heart.
Add wings, another Cupid thou wilt prove,
At least want nothing to be Love, but love.

Sil.
What is this Love?

Dor.
When I behold thy eyes,
It is the light of Paradise.
But mine own heart consider'd well,
It is the very fire of hell.

Sil.
Nymph, what a prating is here with thee?
Give me my Dog and Doe, now prithee.

Dor.
Give me the love first that I bargain'd for.

Sil.
Have I not gi'n it thee? Fie, what a stir
There is to please this woman! Take it: do
What thou wilt with it. Who forbids thee? who
Withholds it? On what trifles dost thou stand?

Dor.
Wretched Dorinda, thou dost sow the sand,
And fondly undertak'st labour in vain.

Sil.
What dream'st thou of? why holdst thou me in pain?

Dor.
When thy desire's once granted, thou wilt go
And leave me straight, perfidious Silvio.

Sil.
No
Indeed, fair Nymph.

Dor.
Give mee a pawne then.

Sil.
Name
The pawn.

Dor.
Alas! I dare not.

Silv.
Why?

Dor.
For shame.

Sil.
But how then can I give it thee?

Dor.
I would
Fain without naming it be understood.

Sil.
If th'art asham'd to name it, thou maist be
Asham'd to take it.

Dor.
Promise it to me,
And I will name it.

Sil.
I do promise it:
But thou must name it first.

Dor.
Canst thou not hit
My thoughts then? I should have conceiv'd thee
If thou hadst said but half so much to me.

Sil.
Thou hast more wit then I, Dorinda.

Dor.
I
Have more Love, Silvio, and lesse Cruelty.

Sil.
Truth is, I am no witch: if thou'dst have me
To understand thee, speak.

Dor.
O misery!
That which I beg of thee is one of those
Things thy kind mother upon thee bestowes.

Sil.
A box o'th'ear?

Dor.
To ones that loves thee so?

Sil.
Those things my mother doth on me bestow.

Dor.
Nay, that's not so: But doth not she give thee
A Kisse sometimes?

Sil.
She neither kisses me,
Nor would have others kisse me. Is't a Kisse
Thou dost desire of me? It is, it is:
Thy blush betrayes thee. Come, I'le give it thee:
But first my Dog and Doe.

Dor.
Dost promise me?

Sil.
I promise thee.

Dor.
And with me wilt thou stay?

Sil.
Why dost thou vex me thus? Did I not say
I would?

Dor.
Come forth Lupino, dost not hear?
Lupino.

Lup.
Ogh! ogh! what a brawling's there?
Who calls me? O I am come. It was not I
That slept, it was the Dog slept verily.

Dor.
Look Silvio, there's thy Dog, that might to thee
Have read a lecture of Humanitie.

Sil.
How over-joy'd am I?

Dor.
Upon this brest
Which thou despisest so he came to rest.

Sil.
(O my sweet true Melampo.)

Dor.
Setting by
My sighs and kisses.

Sil.
(I will certainly
Kisse thee a thousand times, poor Cur! But hast
Thou got no harm at all, thou ran'st so fast?)

Dor.
Fortunate Dog, that I might change (alas!)
Estates with thee; I'm come to a fine passe
To envie a Dogs life. Bend thou thy gate
Homewards Lupino, I will follow straight.

Lup.
Mistresse, I goe.

Scena tertia.

Manent Silvio, Dorinda.
Sil.
(In fine, th'ast got no harm.) Now let me see
Where is this Doe which thou hast promis'd me.

Dor.
Alive or dead woul'dst have her?

Sil.
Strange demand!
Alive after the Dog hath kil'd her?

Dor.
And
If the Dog kild her not?

Sil.
Alive is she?

Dor.
Alive.

Sil.
The deerer then the prey to me:
And had my deer Melampo so much art
As not to hurt her?

Dor.
Onely in the heart
She had a little prick.

Sil.
Either th'art mad,
Dorinda, or dost mock me. If shee had
A prick i'th'heart, how can she live?

Dor.
The Doe
I speak of, I am, cruell Silvio:
Hurt by thee, without being hunted; Take me,
I am alive; but dead, if thou forsake me.

Sil.
Is this that Doe? that prey?

Dor.
Ev'n this: why now
Art thou so discontented? Dost not thou
Love a Nymph better then a beast?

Sil.
My hate
Thou art, brute, lyar, vile, importunate.

Dor.
Is this the guerdon, cruell Silvio?
Is this the meed thou dost on me bestow,
Ungratefull youth? Take thy Melampo free,
And me and all, so thou come back to me:
The rest I do remit. Let me be plac't
But in the sun-shine thy fair eyes do cast.
Truer then thy Melampo I will trace
Thy steps, and when th'art wearied with the chase
I'le wipe thy sweating brow, and on this brest
(Which cannot rest for thee) thy head shall rest:
I'le bear thy arrowes, and thy quiver bear
Through these rough woods; and if there want game there,
Shoot at Dorinda's bosome. At this white
Set thy good bow, when ere it shoots not right.
For I'le be both the prey (if thou think fit)
To keep in ure, and drudge to carry it;
Thy arrows, quiver, and their Butt to hit.
But to whom do I talk? Alas! to thee
That hear'st me not, and fly'st away from me?
But wheresoe're thou fly (curs'd Silvio)
Dorinda will fly after thee: although
To hell it self, if any hell there be
Worse then my Love is, and thy Crueltie.

Scena quarta.

Corisca.
Fortune beyond my wish hath favoured me:
“And fit it is that they should favour'd be
“Who not with wishings onely seek her favour.
“Pow'rfull she is; and men with reason have her
“In reputation of a Goddesse. But
“We must go meet her then, wait a foot
“To finde her humours; and must use our own
“Judgement in playing of our game: a drone
“Seldome or never doth prove fortunate.
Had not my industry made me the Mate
Of her by whom under the name of friend
I have fit means and safe to work my end,
Where had I been? Some fool would now be shie,
And view her Rivall with a jealous eye,
Bearing the open tokens of ill will
Writ in her forehead; and she would do ill:
“For open foes are easier to evade
“Then ambushes that are in friendship laid.
“Wise Mariners by rocks hid in the sea
“Are oft deceiv'd: She knowes not how to be
“An enemy, that knows not how to seem
“A friend. Corisca's skill shall now be seen
In both: Nor am I yet so simply dull
To think she doth not love. Well may she gull
Others with this, not me; who am gone out
A Mistresse in the Art. A tender sprout
New peept out of the bark, within whose brest
There's built for Love already a soft nest,
Long woo'd, and woo'd by so compleat a Lover,
And (which is worst) kist too over and over,
And yet hold tyte? Believe't (for me) that list.
But my good Genius doth me assist;
For look if Amarillis come not here
As sent? I'le walk as if I did not see her.

Scena quinta.

Amarillis, Corisca.
Am.
Dear happy Groves, and you ye sollitary
And silent horrors where true peace doth tarry,
With how much joy do I review you? And
Had my stars pleas'd to give me the command
Over my self, that I might chuse my lot,
And my own way of life, then would I not
For the Elisian groves, about which range
The happy shades, your happy shades exchange.
“For what we foolish mortals Goods do call
“If rightly understood, are Evils all.
“He that hath most of them, in truth hath least,
“Nor is so much possessor, as possest;
“Not riches, no, but of our freedome snares.
“What boots it in the spring-time of one's yeers
“To have the Attributes of Fair and Good,
“In mortall veins to lock celestiall blood,
“Graces of body and of mind, here fair
“And laughing fields of corn, rich meadows there,
“In fruitfull pasture-grounds more fruitfull flocks,
“If with all these the heart contentment lacks?
Happy that shepherdesse whom some course stuffe
Obscurely cloaths, yet clean and just enough!
Rich onely in her self, and bravely drest
With Nature's ornaments which are the best;
Who in sweet poverty no want doth know,
Nor the distractions which from riches grow:
Yet whatsoever may suffice the mind,
In that estate abundantly doth finde:
Poor, but content! with Nature's gifts retrives
The gifts of Nature, Milk with milk revives,
And with the sweet which from the Bee she gets,
Seasons the honey of her native sweets:
One fountain is her looking glasse, her drink
Her bath; and if she's pleas'd, what others think
It matters not; she heeds not blazing starres
That threaten mighty ones: warres or no warres,
It is all one to her; her battlement
And shield is that she's poor: Poor, but content!
One onely care ('tis a sweet care) doth keep
Her heart awake; she feeds her Masters sheep
With pearled grasse, and with her lovely eyes
Some honest swain, that for her beauty dies:
Not such as men or Gods chuse to her hand,
But such as Love did to her choice commend;
And in some favour'd shady Mirtle grove
Desires, and is desir'd: Nor feels of Love
One spark which unto him she doth not show,
Nor shows one spark with which he doth not glow.
Poor, but content! True life! which till the breath
Forsakes the body, knowst not what is death.
Would Heaven had made me such a one!—But see,
Corisca! Sweet Corisca.

Cor.
Who calls me?
My Amarillis? dearer then mine owne
Eyes, or life to me, whither so alone?

Am.
No farther then thou seest; nor anywhere
Could I be better, since I weet thee here.

Cor.
Thou hast met her that never parts from thee,
Sweet Amarillis; and now, credit me,
Was thinking of thee, saying in my heart,
If I'm her soul, how can she live apart
From me? When straight I saw thee here:—but go,
Thou car'st not for Corisca now.

Am.
Why so?

Cor.
Why? Dost thou ask the question? thou dost wed
To day.

Am.
I wed?

Cor.
Yes: and thou keepst it hid
From me.

Am.
How can I tell thee that which I
Am ignorant my self of?

Cor.
Do, deny,
And wear a mask to me.

Am.
Still jest with me
Corisca.

Cor.
I am jested with by thee.

Am.
But speakst thou this for truth?

Cor.
I'le swear 'tis so,
And knowst thou nothing of't indeed?

Am.
I know
I'm promis'd: but that I should be a wife
So soon, is news to me upon my life.
But from whom knowst it thou?

Cor.
From my own Brother
Ormino: and he sayes, there is no other
Discourse abroad.—Thou seem'st perplext: is this
News to perplex one?

Am.
O Corisca! 'Tis
A hideous gulfe: I've heard my mother say,
W'are then new born.

Cor.
Most true: 'tis our birth day
T'a better life, therefore rejoyce. Dost fetch
A sigh? leave sighing to that wretch.

Am.
What wretch?

Cor.
Mirtillo: who was present casually
At what my brother told mee, and was nigh
Strook dead with grief; and doubtlesse he had dy'd,
If a good cordiall I had not apply'd,
By promising to break this Match. Which though
I said, onely to comfort him, I know
(If need were) how to do't.

Am.
Canst thou tell
How to break this Match?

Cor.
Yes very well.

Am.
I prethee how?

Cor.
With ease, if thou wert but
Consenting likewise, and assisting to't.

Am.
Could I suppose this possible, and thou
Wouldst not reveal it, I would tell thee now
A secret that hath long burnt in my heart.

Cor.
Who, I reveal it? Let the earth first part
And swallow me alive miraculously.

Am.
Know then Corisca, when I think that I
Must all my life be subject to a Boy
That hates and flyes me, and doth take no joy
But in the woods, preferring hunting farre
Before the love of all the Nymphs that are,
It makes me male content, and desperate
Indeed almost, although I dare not say't,
Because my faith I have already given
Unto my Father, and (what's worse) to Heav'n,
And break with them I neither will nor may.
But if thy industry can finde a way
(Alwayes provided, that my Honestie,
My Faith, my Life, and my Religion be
Preserv'd) t'untie this knot that galls me so,
To thee my life and safety I shall owe.

Cor.
If this were it that caus'd thy sighing, thou
Hadst great cause for it Amarillis. How
Oft have I said? What pity 'tis to thtow
So rich a thing to one that scorns it so!
A pearl t'a swine! why speak'st not to thy Father?

Am.
Shame stops my mouth.

Cor.
There's a disease! I'd rather
For my part have a Fistula, or Feaver.
“But 'twill be cur'd; Orecome it once, 'twill never
“Return again.

Am.
That cannot be orecome
“That's naturall: For if I drive it from
“My heart, it flies into my face.

Cor.
Alas,
(My Amarillis) oft it comes to passe,
“She that through too much wisdom holds her tongue,
“Roars out at last like mad, being throughly stung.
Hadst thou before been willing to discover
Thy mind to me, this trouble had been over:
And now thou hast, Corisca's power this day
In all its colours shall it self display.
Into more skilfull hands, more faithfull then
Mine are, thou never couldst have faln. But when
From an ill Husband thou art freed by mee,
Shall not an honest Suitor welcom be?

Am.
Wee'l think of that at leasure.

Cor.
That good youth
Mirtillo must not be forgot in sooth:
For parts, for spotlesse faith, for shape thou knowst
Of all men living hee deserves thee most:
And canst thou let him dye? O cruelty!
Nor wilt so much as hear him say, I dye?
Hear him but once.

Am.
'Twere better he would rest
In peace, and root a love out of his brest
That's vain.

Cor.
That comfort give him ere he dye.

Am.
'Twould rather double his perplexity.

Cor.
If it do so, the seeking is his own.

Am.
And what must I expect, should it be known?

Cor.
How cowardly thou art?

Am.
And let me still
Be cowardly in any thing that's ill.

Cor.
If thou mayst fail me in this small request,
Then may I fail thee likewise in the rest
Most justly, Amarillis. So God bu'y.

Am.
Nay, stay Corisca, hear.

Cor.
Not a word I,
Unlesse thou promise me.

Am.
I promise thee
To hear him speak, provided this may be
For all.

Cor.
It shall.

Am.
And that he may not know
I was acquainted with't.

Cor.
I'le make as though
Ye met by accident.

Am.
And that I may
At my own pleasure freely go away.

Cor.
Thou shalt, when thou hast heard him.

Am.
And that hee
Shall briefly speak.

Cor.
That too is granted thee.

Am.
Nor come within my darts length of me.

Cor.
Fie,
What a stir's here with thy simplicitie!
To make it sure, he shall not doe thee wrong,
I'le tie up all his limbs except his tongue.
Wouldst thou have more?

Am.
'Tis well.

Cor.
And when wilt thou
Do this?

Am.
When ere thou wilt: Do but allow
Me so much time, as to go home to hear
More certain news about this Marriage there.

Cor.
Go; but with caution, and before thou'rt gone,
Hear a contrivance I have thought upon
As thou wert speaking: In the afternoon
I would have thee without thy Nymphs to come
Into this shady walk, where I will be
Before for this occasion, and with me
Nerina, Phillis, Celia, Aglaura,
Eliza, Daphne, Silvia, and Laura;
All my no lesse discreet and witty, then
Faithfull and secret Mates. There thou with them
Shalt play (as thou art wont) at Blind-man-buffe,
So that Mirtillo will with ease enough
Be made believe, that for thy own passe-time
Thou thither cam'st, and not to meet with him.

Am.
I like it wondrous well. But dost thou hear?
I would not any of those Nymphs were there
The while Mirtillo speaks.

Cor.
I doe conceive
'Twas thought upon with good discretion. Leave
The getting them away to my endeavour.
Go: and remember one thing,—to love ever
Thy faithfullest Corisca.

Am.
In her hand
Since I have put my heart, she may command
As much love as she pleases.

Cor.
Is she not stiffe? We must assault this rock
With greater force; though she resist my shock,
Against Mirtillo's she will finde no fence
I'm sure: I know by self-experience
The power of Lovers prayers when they invade
The tender heart of an inclining maid.
If shee do yeeld, I'le make her smart so for't,
That shee shall finde her sport was not in sport.
Through her dark'st words her heart shall be to me
As visible as in a 'natomie.
I'le ransack all her veins: that done, and I
Made Mistresse of her secret, easily
I'le winde her so, and lead her by the nose
To what I'de have, that she shall ne're suppose
(Much lesse shall others) that it was my skill
That drew her to't, but her unbridled will.

Scena sexta.

Corisca, Satyr.
Cor.
O I'm dead.

Sat.
But I was quick.
There's a trick now for your trick.

Cor.
My Amarillis, I am caught.
O come back.

Sat.
She hears thee not.
'Twill now behove thee to be strong.

Cor.
O me, my hair!

Sat.
I have so long
Stood angling for thee in my boat,
At last th'art strook. 'Tis not thy coat,
'Tis thy hair (Sister) this.

Cor.
To mee
This usage (Satyr?)

Sat.
Yes, to thee
Corisca, or I am mistaken:
That Mistresse in the art of making
The fine-spun lyes, that sels so deer
False words, false hopes, and a false leer?
Shee that so often hath betraid me;
Shee that so many fools hath made me
At every turn: the sorceresse,
The cheat Corisca?

Cor.
I confesse,
I am Corisca; but not shee
Now, that was once so lov'd by thee,
My gentile Satyr.

Sat.
Pray since when
Am I gentile? I was not then
When me for Coridon thou didst change.

Cor.
Thee for another?

Sat.
See how strange
She makes it now! I warrant then
This is great news to thee; and when
Thou mad'st me Silvia's Buskins steal,
The Bow of Lilla, Cloris Veile,
And Daphne's Gown, that were to be
The price of love, which promis'd me,
Thou gav'st another: and when that
Fair wreathe I on thy head did plat,
Thou upon Niso didst bestow;
And when thou mad'st me (cold as snow)
Watch many a night out at the Fountain,
The Cave, Wood-side, and foot o'th'Mountain,
And for my pains didst laugh at me,
Did I then seem gentile to thee?
Ah thief! But now as I am here,
I'le make thee pay thy whole arrear.

Cor.
O me! Thou dragg'st me like a beast.

Sat.
I drag thee like thy self then. Wrest
Thy neck out of the collar now;
Give me the slip if thou knowst how.
Fox, though thy craft the time before
Did save thee, it shall do't no more.
For this I'm sure thou canst not scape,
Unlesse thou leave thy head i'th trap.

Cor.
Yet give me so much time I pray,
As for my self to answer.

Sat.
Say.

Cor.
How can I if thou hold me so?

Sat.
'Tis likely I should let thee go.

Cor.
I'le gage my faith not to go hence.

Sat.
What faith? Hast thou the impudence
(Perfidious woman) to name faith
To me? I'le bear thee where there hath
No Sun, much lesse the feet of men
Approacht, unto the horrid'st den
Of all this Mountain: there—(but I
Will act the rest) to mine own joy
And thy dishonour, I will kerve
Such vengeance as thy faults deserve.

Cor.
Canst thou then (cruell) to this hair (which has
Ty'd fast thy heart), unto this face (which was
Once thy delight), to this Corisca (then
More dear to thee then thine own life was when
Thou swar'st by that, that thou couldst finde it sweet
On her behalf, ev'n death it self to meet),
Canst thou once think to offer injury,
I say, to her? O Heav'ns! O Destinie!
Whom have I hop't in? whom can I believe
Again?

Sat.
Ah Syren! thinkst thou to deceive
Me still? still rock me with thy flatt'ring charms?

Cor.
My sweet deer Satyr, do no harm
To her that loves thee. Thou art not a beast,
Nor hast a marble or a flinty brest:
Behold me at thy feet! O pardon me
If ever I (by chance) offended thee,
My Idol. By those sinewy and more
Then humane knees, which clasping I adore;
By that rough manly visage; by that dear
Affection which thou once to me didst bear;
By the sweet influence of those eyes which thou
Wert wont to call two stars (two fountains now;)
By these salt tears which trickle down so fast,
Pitie me now, and let me go.

Sat.
Thou hast
Mov'd me (I must confesse) and I were gone,
If I should hearken to affection.
But to be short, I doe not credit thee;
Thou art too full of wiles and tricks for me,
And he that takes thy word, believes his snares:
Beneath this humble shew, beneath these prayr's
There's hid Corisca: Thou canst never be
Another. Sruggling still?

Cor.
My head, O me!
Ah cruell! stay a little longer yet,
And grant me but one favour.

Sat.
What is it?

Cor.
Hear me a little more.

Sat.
Thou hopest now
With flatt'ries and squeez'd tears to make me bow.

Cor.
Ah courteous Satyr! wilt thou kerve in me
Such cruell vengeance?

Sat.
Come, and thou shalt see.

Cor.
And take no Pity of me?

Sat.
None at all.

Cor.
But art thou firm in this?

Sat.
As a brasse-wall.
Is this charm ended?

Cor.
O thou base, and not
To be exampled Rogue; half man, half goat,
And all a beast; thou carrion that doth stink,
By-blow and blush of nature; If thou think
Corisca loves thee not, thou thinkst the truth.
What should she love in such a comely youth?
That fair Stags head? that chimney-sweepers broom?
Goats ears? that grave of rottennesse and rheume
Which once had bones in't?

Sat.
This to me,
Thou wicked varlet?

Cor.
Ev'n to thee.

Sat.
To me, thou scold?

Cor.
To thee, thou Goat.

Sat.
And with these pincers pull I not
Thy barking tongue out?

Cor.
Would thou durst
Come neer't, there's that will scour their rust.

Sat.
A paltry woman, and in such
Condition (being in my clutch)
To injure me! and dare mee too!
I will—

Cor.
Base slave, what wilt thou do?

Sat.
Eat thee alive I will.

Cor.
Where be
The teeth to do't?

Sat.
Heav'n, dost thou see
And suffer this! But if I doe not
Chastise thee—Come along.

Cor.
I wo'not.

Sat.
Wo'not, my Mistresse Malapert?

Cor.
Wo'not in spight of thy foulheart.

Sat.
That shall be seen; Come, or I swear,
This arm I'le from thy shoulder tear.

Cor.
Tear my head off, I wo'not go
One foot.

Sat.
Art thou resolved so?
Let's ne're dispute then any longer,
But put to tryall whether's stronger
And faster on, thy neck-piece, or
My arm.—Thy hands to help too? Nor
Are these (perverse one) enough guard.

Cor.
That shall be try'd.

Sat.
It shall.

Cor.
Pull hard.—
Satyr adieu, Get thy neck set.

Sat.
O me!
How I am shatter'd! O my head! my knee!
O my back-bone! my thigh! what a vile fall
Was here! to get upon my legs is all
I have the pow'r to do. But can it be
That she should fly, and leave her head with me?
O marvellous! ye Nymphs and Shepherds run,
Flock hither to behold a wonder; one
That runs away without her head, by skill
In Magick. Hah! how light it is! how ill
Peopled with brains! How comes it that I see
None of the blood spirt forth? But stay; let me
Peruse it better. O thou stock! thou stone!
Thou hast no head, if thou think she hath none.
Was ever any man so fool'd? See now
If she had not a trick to scape, when thou
Thoughtst her most sure! Thou all made up of wiles,
Was't not enough thy heart, thy face, thy smiles,
Thy looks and speeches falsified were,
But thou must likewise falsifie thy hair?
The glowing Amber, and the flowing Gold,
Which you (mad Poets) so extoll, behold!
Blush, blush now at your errour, and recant
Your thred-bare theam; in stead whereof, go paint
The arts of a deform'd and impious Witch
Breaking up Sepulchres by night, from which
She steals the hair that upon Death's head growes,
To imp her own, which she so neatly does,
That she hath made you praise what ye should more
Then dire Megæra's snakie locks abhor.
These (Lovers) are your gyves (I take it) too!
Look on 'em Idiots: and if (as you
Protest) your hearts are fastned to these hairs,
Now every one may without sighs or tears
Come by his owne. But why do I forbear
To publish her disgrace? Surely that hair,
Which stuck with starres adorns the azure skye,—
Never so famous was as this; and shee
Much more that wore it by my tongue shall be
Made infamous to all posterity.—

Chorus.