University of Virginia Library

Actus Tertius.

Scena Prima.

MIRTILLO.
Spring, the yeers youth, fair Mother of new flowrs,
New leaves, new loves, drawn by the winged hours,
Thou art return'd; but the felicity
Thou brought'st me last is not return'd with thee.
Thou art return'd, but nought returns with thee
Save my lost joyes regretfull memory.
Thou art the self same thing thou wert before,
As fair and jocund: but I am no more
The thing I was, so gracious in her sight
Who is Heav'ns master-piece, and Earth's delight,
“O bitter-sweets of Love! Far worse it is
“To lose, then never to have tasted blisse.
“But O how sweet were Love, if it could not
“Be lost, or being lost could be forgot!
Though if my hopes (as mine are wont to be)
Are not of glasse, or my love make me see
Them through a multiplying glasse; If I
Be not deceiv'd both by my self, and by
Another: Here I shall that Sun behold
Which I adore, impart her beams of gold
To my blest sight, behold her flying feet
Stop at my sad notes; here upon the sweet
Food of that lovely face I shall suffice
After a tedious fast my greedy eyes.
Here, here behold that proud one on me turn
Her sparkling lamps, if not to light, to burn.
And if not fraught with amorous delight,
So kindly cruell as to kill outright.
Yet were't but just, that after so much pain
As I have hitherto endur'd in vain,
Thou Love at length shouldst make the Sun appear
To this benighted earth serene and cleer.
Hither Ergasto did direct me, where
Corisca and my Amarillis were
To play at Blindman-buffe: but I can finde
In this place nothing but my love that's blind,
And so deceiv'd, mis-led by a false guide
To seek that light which is to me deny'd.
Pray Heav'n my hard and envious fate beneath
This sugred Pill now have not hid my death.
This tedious stay afflicts me: “For to those
“That go to meet their Loves, each moment shows
“An age. Perchance I have arriv'd too late,
And made for me too long Corisca wait:
Yet I made haste. Now woe is me! If I
Have done this fault, I will lie down and dye.

Scena secunda.

Amarillis, Mirtillo, Chorus of Nymphs, Corisca.
Am.
Behold the Buff!

Mirt.
O sight!

Am.
Come on.

Mirt.
O voice!
That makes my heart both tremble and rejoyce.

Am.
What do you do? Lisetta, where art thou
That wert so eager of this sport but now?
And thou Corisca, whither gone?

Mir.
I finde
Now it is true indeed, that Love is blinde.

Am.
You there that are appointed for my guides
To hand and to support mee on both sides,
Before the rest of our Companions come,
Out of these trees conduct me to field-room:
Then leaving me alone amidst the plain,
Amongst our other fellows herd again:
So joyning all together, make a ring
About me round, and let the sport begin.

Mir.
But what shall I do? Yet I cannot see
Of what advantage this should be to me
In my desires; nor see I my north-starre
Corisca: Succour me blest Heav'n!

Am.
O are
Yee come at last? yee wantons, did you mean
Only to bind my eyes? Begin now then.

Chor.
Love, thou art not blind, I know,
“But dost onely appear so
“To blinde us: if thy sight's small,
“Thou hast, I'm sure no faith at all.
Blinde or not, thou try'st in vain
Mee into thy net to train.
And to keep out of thy pound,
Off I get, and traverse ground.
Blind as thou art, thou couldst see more
Then Argus hundred eyes of yore.
Thou couldst see (blind as thou art)
Well enough to hit my heart.
But I were a fool indeed,
Should I trust thee now I'm freed.
Sport with thee henceforth that will;
'Tis a sport with thee to kill.

Am.
I, but with too much warinesse you play:
Yee should strike first, and after get away.
Approach me, touch me, and ye shall not fly
Me then.

Mir.
O ye high Gods! In heav'n am I?
Or earth? O heav'ns! do your eternall rounds
Move in such order, warble such sweet sounds?

Cho.
Well, blind Archer, since thou still
Urgest me to play, I will.
Now I clap thy shoulder hard:
Now I fly unto my guard:
Strike, and run, and strike again,
And thou wheel'st about in vain.
Now I pinch thee, now remove:
And have at thee now blind Love.
Yet thou canst not light on me;
Why? because my heart is free.

Am.
In faith Licoris, I had surely thought
T'ave caught thee there, and 'twas a tree I caught.
I, dost thou laugh?

Mir.
Would I had been that tree.
But do I not Corisca hidden see
Amongst those brakes? and she makes signes as who
Should say, that something she would have me do.

Cho.
“A free heart makes a nimble heel.
Ah traitour! dost thou tempt me still
With thy flattering false delight?
Thus then I renew the fight.
Slash, and fly, and turn, and shove;
And about again blind Love:
Yet thou canst not light on me;
Why? because my heart is free.

Am.
Would thou wert puld up by the root, base tree:
That I should ever thus be catching thee!
Deceived by the dancing of a bough,
I did suppose I'd had Eliza now.

Mir.
Corisca still is making signes to me,
And looks as shee were angry: perhaps she
Would have me mix with those Nymphs.

Am.
Must I play
With nothing but with trees then all this day?

Cor.
I must come forth and speak, or hee'l not stir—.
To her (white liver) and lay hold on her.
Why dost thou gape? to have her run into
Thy mouth? At least, if that thou dar'st not do,
Let her lay hold of thee. Come, give me here
This dart, and go to meet her fool.

Mir.
How neer
To impotence is strong desire! O Love!
That thou shouldst make a man a coward prove!

Am.
Play but once more, for now I weary grow.
Troth, y'are too blame for making me run so.

Chor.
That triumphant God survey,
To whom amorous mortals pay
Impious tribute! See him snaffeld!
See him laught at! See him baffeld!
As a hooded Hawke or Owle
With light blinded, when the fowle
With their Armies flock about her,
Some to beat, and some to flout her;
She in vain doth rowze and peck
This and that way with her beak:
So we baffle and deride
Thee (blind Love) on ev'ry side.
One doth pinch thy elbow black;
T'other has thee by the back;
And thy baiting does no good,
Nor thy pecking through thy hood,
Nor thy stretching out thy clawes.
“But sweet meats have sowr sawce.
“Birds are caught by playing thus:
“So do Nymphs grow amorous.

Scena tertia.

Amarillis, Corisca, Mirtillo.
Am.
I'faith, Aglaura, art thou caught at last?
Thou'dst fain be gone, but I will hold thee fast.

Cor.
Surely, unlesse at unawares by main
Strength I had thrust him on her, I in vain
Had tyr'd my self to make him thither go.

Am.
Thou wilt not speak now: Art thou she or no?

Cor.
I lay his Dart here by him, and unto
My bush return, t'observe what will ensue.

Am.
Thou art Corisca, now it is most cleer;
I know thee by thy tallnesse and short hair.
'Twas thee I wish'd to catch; that I might use thee
Just as I list, and thus, and thus abuse thee;
And thus, and thus. Not yet? But since 'twas thou
That boundst me, do thou too unbinde me now:
Quickly (my heart) and thou shalt have of me
The sweetest kisse that ere was given thee.
What dost thou stick at? thy hand trembles: what,
Art thou so weary? If thy nails will not,
Let thy teeth do't: come fumbler, let mee see;
I can my self untangle without thee.
Fye, how with knots on knots it is perplext?
The best on't is, thou must be blinded next.
So, now 'tis loos'd: Hah! whom have we here?
Traitor avaunt. I am unspirited.

Mir.
Dear
Soul, do not strive to goe away.

Am.
Unhand
(Forcer of Nymphs) unhand me, I command.
Ay me! Aglaura and Eliza tarry,
Betrayers of my innocence, where are ye?—
Unhand me villain.

Mir.
I obey.

Am.
This plot
Corisca laid: Now tell her what th'ast got.

Mir.
O whither fly'st thou Cruell? ere thou go
Banquet thy eyes yet with my death: for lo,
I pierce my bosome with this dart.

Am.
Ay me!
What wilt thou do?

Mir.
That which it troubles thee
Perchance (dire Nymph) that any should be sed
T'have done, but thou.

Am.
(Ay me! I'm almost dead)

Mirt.
And if this action to thy hand be due,
Behold the weapon and the brest!

Am.
'Tis true,
Thou hast deserv'd it of me. What could move
Thy heart to such a high presumption?

Mir.
Love.

Am.
“Love never causes rudenes.

Mir.
Then conclude,
“I was in love, because I was not rude:
For if within thy arms thou caughtst me first,
I cannot well with rudenesse be asperst,
Since with so fair an opportunity
To be audacious, and to use with thee
The Lawes of Love, I had such power yet over
My self, I ev'n forgot I was a Lover.

Am.
Upbraid me not with what I blind did doe.

Mir.
I being in Love was blinder of the two.

Am.
“Pray'r and sweet language discreet Lovers use
“To winne their Loves; not theft and cheats, t'abuse.

Mir.
As a wild beast enrag'd with want of food
Rushes on travellers out of the wood:
So I, that onely live on thy fair eyes,
Since that lov'd food thy crueltie denyes,
Or else my Fate, if like a ravenous Lover
Rushing to day upon thee from this Cover,
Where I had long been famish't, I did prove
One stratagem to save my life (which Love
Prompted me to) then blame not, cruell Maid,
Me but thy self; for if (as thou hast said)
Pray'r and sweet language onely should be us'd
By discret Lovers, which thou hast refus'd
To hear from me; thou by thy crueltie,
Thou by thy flight mad'st me I could not be
A discreet Lover.

Am.
If th'adst gi'n her over
That fled from thee, th'adst been a discreet Lover.
But know, thou persecutest me in vain;
What wouldst thou have of me?

Mir.
I'd have thee daign
Once 'ere I die to hear me.

Am.
See! as soon
As thou hast askt, thou hast receiv'd the boon.
Now then be gone.

Mir.
Ah Nymph! I've scarcely yet
Powr'd one small drop out to thee of the great
Sea of my tears. If not for Pitie's sake,
Yet for the Pleasure thou therein wilt take,
List' to a dying man's last accents.

Am.
Well,
To shun more trouble, and thy hopes to quell,
To hear thee I'm content. But this before;
Say little, quickly, part, and come no more.

Mir.
Thou dost command me, cruell'st Nymph, to bind
In volume too too small that unconfin'd
Desire, which scarcely humane thought (though it
Be as the soul that holds it, infinit)
Hath line to fathom.
That I do love thee more then I do love
My life (if thou doubt'st, Cruel) ask this Grove,
And that will tell thee; and with it each beast,
Each stupid stock there can the same attest;
Each stone of these high mountains, which so oft
I with the voice of my complaints made soft.
But what need I call any witnesse else
To prove my love, where so much beauty dwels?
Behold these flow'rs which make low earth so proud!
Those Stars which nail Heav'ns pavement! all these crowd
Into one ring: A beautie like that same
Is the high cause and forcer of my flame.
For as by nature Water doth descend,
The Fire unto the higher Regions tend
The Air obliquely spread it self, the Ground
Lie still, and heav'n about all these turn round.
So naturally do I incline to thee,
As to my chiefest good; so naturally
To those lov'd beauties (as unto her sole)
With all her wing'd affections flyes my soul.
And he that should imagine he had force
Her from her dearest object to divorce,
Might with as much facility command
The Air, the Fire, the Water and the Land,
The Heavens too from their accustom'd track,
And make the Pillars of the world to crack.
But since thou bidst me say but little, I
Shall say but little, saying that I dye:
And shall doe lesse in dying, since I see
How much my death is coveted by thee.
Yet I shall doe (alas) all that is left
For me to do, of hopes in love bereft.
But (cruell soul) when I am in my grave,
Some pitie then upon my suffrings have.
Ah! fair and lov'd, and that wert once the sweet
Cause of my life (whilst Heaven thought it meet)
Turn those bright lamps upon me, as beni'ne
And pitifull as ere I saw them shine,
Once ere I dye, that I may dye in peace.
Let those fair amiable eyes release
My life, now bitter, which once sweetned it;
And those bright Starres, which my loves torches li't,
Light too my Funerall tapers, and forerun,
As once my rising, now my setting Sun.
But thou more hard then ere thou wert before,
Feel'st yet no spark of pity; but art more
Stiffe with my pray'rs. Must I then talk alone?
Wretch that I am, discourse I to a stone?
Say Dye, at least, if nothing else thou'lt say;
And thou shalt see me dye. O Love! what way
Canst thou not plague me? when this Nymph that's nurst
In cruelty, and for my blood did thirst,
Finding my death would now a favour be,
Ev'n that sad favour doth deny to me?
Nor will reply a syllable, or daign
One stabbing word to put me out of pain?

Am.
To answer thee if I had promised,
As well as hear thee, this were justly sed.
Thou call'st me cruell, hoping, that to shun
That vice, into the contrary I'le run.
But know, my ears are not so tickeled
With that (by me so little merited
And lesse desired) praise thou giv'st to me
Of beauty, as to hear my self by thee
“Stil'd Cruell; which to be to any other
“I grant were vice; t'is vertue to a Lover:
“And what thou harshnesse call'st and crueltie,
“Is in a woman perfect honestie.
But say, that ev'n t'a Lover 'twere a sin;
Yet tell me, when hath Amarillis bin
Cruell to thee? was't then when justice bad
To use no pitie; yet on thee I had
So much, that I from death deliver'd thee?
I mean, when 'mongst a noble companie
Of modest Virgins mingled, thou didst cover
With a Maid's habit a libidinous Lover:
And, our chast sports polluting, didst intrude
'Mongst kisses feign'd and innocent thy lewd
And wanton kisses (such an act, as yet
I blush as oft as I but think on it).
But at that time I knew thee not (Heav'n knows)
And when I did, my indignation rose.
Thy wantonnesse I from my mind did keep,
And suffred not the amorous plague to creep
To my chast heart: on my lips outer skin
The poyson stuck, but none of it got in.
“A mouth that's kiss'd perforce,
“If it spit out the kisse, is ne're the worse.
But what wouldst thou by that bold theft have got,
If I had to those Nymphs discover'd what
Thou wert? the Thracian women never tore
And murther'd Orpheus so on Hebrus shore,
As they had thee, unlesse her clemencie
Whom thou call'st cruell now had rescu'd thee.
But she is not so cruell as she ought
To be: for if when she is cruell thought
Thy boldnesse is so great, what would it be
If she were judged pitifull by thee?
That honest pitie which I could, I gave;
Other it is in vain for thee to crave,
Or hope: “for amorous pitie she can ill
“Bestow, who gave it all to one that will
“Give her none back. If thou my Lover be,
Love my good name, my life, my honestie.
Thou seek'st impossibles; I am a ward
To Heav'n, Earth watches me, and my reward
If I transgresse, is death: but most of all,
Vertue defends me with a brasen wall.
“For she that is protected by her honour,
“Scorns there should be a safer guard upon her.
Look to thy safety then, and do not give
Battell to me, Mirtillo: fly, and live,
If thou be wise. “For out of sense of smart
“T'abandon life, argues but a faint heart.
“And 'tis the part of vertue to abstain
“From what we love, if it will prove our bane.

Mir.
“He that no longer can resist must yeeld.

Am.
“Where vertue is, all passions quit the field.

Mir.
“Love triumphs over vertue.

Am.
Let that man
“That cannot what he will, will what he can.

Mir.
“Necessitie of loving hath no law.

Am.
“Love's wounds will heal, which salves of absence draw.

Mir.
“We fly in vain what we about us carry.

Am.
“Love drives out love like following billows: Marry.

Mir.
Strange levitie in me thou dost presume.

Am.
“If all wayes fail, time will thy love consume.

Mir.
But first my love will have consumed me.

Am.
Is there no cure then for thy malady?

Mir.
No cure at all but that which death affords.

Am.
Death? let me speak then; and be sure these words
Be as a charm unto thee: though I know
“When Lovers talk of dying, it doth show
“An amorous custome rather of the tongue,
“Then a resolve of minde (continuing long)
“To do't indeed: yet if thou ere shouldst take
So strange a frenzie; know, when thou dost make
Away thy self, thou murtherst my fame too:
Live then (if thou dost love me) and adieu:
I shall esteem thee henceforth most discreet,
If thou take care we two may never meet.

Mir.
Sad doom! without my life how can I live?
Or without death end to my torments give?

Am.
Mirtillo, 'Tis high time thou wentst away,
Thou hast already made too long a stay:
Be gone; and take this cordiall along,
“Of hopelesse Lovers there's a numerous throng,
“There is no wound but carries with it pain,
And there are others may of love complain.

Mir.
I know I'm not the only man hath lost
His Love; but onely wretched I am tost
'Twixt life and death; of whom it may be sed,
That I am neither living, nor yet dead.

Am.
Be gone, be gone.

Mir.
O wofull parting! O
End of my dayes! from thee how can I go,
And yet not dye? The pangs of death I'm sure
I feel, and all that parting souls endure.
For mine, 'tis past into my griefs: Hence I
Have ceas'd to live, those live immortally.

Scena quarta.

Amarillis.
Mirtillo , O Mirtillo! couldst thou see
That heart which thou condemn'st of cruelty,
(Soul of my soul) thou unto it wouldst show
That pity which thou begg'st from it I know.
O ill starr'd Lovers! what avails it me
To have thy love? T'have mine, what boots it thee?
Whom Love hath joyn'd why dost thou separate,
Malitious Fate! And two divorc'd by Fate
Why joyn'st thou perverse Love? How blest are you
Wild beasts, that are in loving ty'd unto
No lawes but those of Love! whilst humane lawes
Inhumanely condemn us for that cause.
“O why, if this be such a naturall
“And powerfull passion, was it capitall!
“Nature too frail, that do'st with Law contend!
“Law too severe, that Nature do'st offend!
“But what? they love but little who death fear.
Ah, my Mirtillo! would to heav'n that were
“The onely penaltie. Vertue, which art
“The bindingst Law to an ingenuous heart,
This inclination which in me I feel,
Lanc'd with the sharp point of thy holy steel,
To thee I sacrifice; and pardon (deer
Mirtillo) her, that's onely cruell, where
She must not pitie. Pardon thy fierce foe
In looks and words: but in her heart not so.
Or if addicted to revenge thou be,
What greater vengeance canst thou take on me
Then thine own grief? for if thou be my heart
(As in despight of Heaven and Earth thou art)
Thy sighs my vitall spirits are, the flood
Of tears which follows is my vitall blood,
And all these pangs, and all these groans of thine
Are not thy pangs, are not thy groans, but mine.

Scena quinta.

Corisca, Amarillis.
Cor.
Sister, no more dissembling.

Am.
Woe is me!
I am discovered.

Cor.
I heard all: now see,
Was I a Witch? I did believe (my Heart)
Thou wert in love; now I am sure thou art.
And would'st thou keep't from me? thy closet? tush,
This is a common evill, never blush.

Am.
Corisca, I am conquer'd (I confess't)

Cor.
No, now I know't, deny it thou wert best.

Am.
“Alas! I knew a womans heart would prove
“Too small a vessell for o're-flowing love.

Cor.
Cruell to thy Mirtillo! but unto
Thy self much more!

Am.
'Tis cruelty that grew
“From pitie.

Cor.
Poyson ne're was known to grow
“From wholsom root: What diff'rence canst thou show
'Twixt such a crueltie as doth offend,
And such a pitie as no help will lend?

Am.
Ay mee, Corisca!

Cor.
'Tis a vanitie
(Sister) to sigh, an imbecillitie
Of mind, and tastes too much of woman.

Am.
Wer't
Not crueller to nourish in his heart
A hopelesse love? To fly him is a signe
I have compassion of his case and mine.

Cor.
But why a hopelesse love?

Am.
Do'st thou not know
I am contracted unto Silvio?
Do'st thou not know besides what the Law saith,
'Tis death in any woman that breaks faith?

Cor.
O fool! and is this all stands in thy way?
Whether is ancienter with us (I pray)
“The Law of Dian, or of Love? this last
“Is born with us, and it growes up as fast
“As we do, Amarillis; 'tis not writ,
“Nor taught by Masters, Nature printed it
“In humane hearts with her own powerfull hand:
“Both Gods and men are under Loves command.

Am.
But if that Law my life away should take,
Can this of Love a restitution make?

Cor.
Thou art too nice; if women all were such,
And on these scruples should insist so much,
Good dayes adieu. I hold them simple souls
Will live obnoxious to such poor comptrolls.
“Lawes are not for the wise: if to be kind
Should merit death, Jove help the cruell mind!
But if fools fall into those snares, 'tis fit
They be forbid to steal, who have not wit
“To hide their theft. For honestie is but
“An art, an honest glosse on vice to put.
Think others as they list; thus I conceive.

Am.
These rotten grounds, Corisca, will deceive.
“What I can't hold 'tis wisdome soon to quit.

Cor.
“And who forbids thee fool? our life doth flit
“Too fast away to lose one jot of it;
“And men so squemish and so curious grown,
“That two of our new Lovers make not one
“O'th'old. We are no longer for their tooth
“(Believ't) then while w'are new. Bate us our youth,
“Bate us out beauty, and like hollow trees
“Which had been stuff'd with honey by the bees,
“If that by licourish hands away be ta'ne,
“Dry and despised trunks we shall remain.
Therefore let them have leave to babble what
They please, as those who know nor reckon not
What the poor woman Amarillis bears,
Our case alas is differing much from theirs.
“Men in perfection as in age increase,
“Wisdome supplies the losse of handsomnesse:
“But when our Youth and Beauty (which alone
“Conquers the strength and wit of men) are gone,
All's gone with us; nor canst thou possibly
“Say a worse thing, or to be pardon'd thee
“More hardly, then Old woman. Then before
Thou split on that unevitable shore,
Know thine own worth, and do not be so mad,
As when thou mayst live merry; to live sad.
What would the lion's strength boot him, or wit
Avail a man, unlesse he used it?
Our beauty is to us that which to men
Wit is, or strength unto the lion. Then
“Let us use it whilst wee may;
“Snatch those joyes that haste away.
“Earth her winter-coat may cast,
“And renew her beauty past;
“But, our winter come, in vain
“We sollicite spring again:
“And when our furrows snow shall cover,
“Love may return, but never Lover.

Am.
Thou say'st all this only to try me sure,
Not that thy thoughts are such. But rest secure,
Unlesse the way thou unto me shalt show
Be a plain way, and warrantable too
To break this Match; I am resolv'd to die
A thousand deaths, 'ere stain my honestie.

Cor.
More wilfull woman I did never know.
But since thou art so resolved, be it so.
Tell me good Amarillis, seriously,
Do'st thou suppose thy Silvio sets by
His faith as much as thou thy honestie?

Am.
Thou mak'st me laugh at this: wherein should he
Expresse a faith, who is to love a foe?

Cor.
Love's foe? O fool! thou knowst not Silvio.
He is the still sow, hee. O these coy souls!
Believe them not: the deep stream silent rowls.
“No theft in Love so subtil, so secure,
“As to hide sin by seeming to be pure.
In short, thy Silvio loves: but 'tis not thee
(Sister) he loves.

Am.
What Goddesse may she be?
For certainly she is no mortall Dame
That could the heart of Silvio inflame.

Cor.
Nor Goddesse, nor yet Nymph.

Am.
What hast thou said?

Cor.
Do'st thou know my Lisetta?

Am.
Who? the Maid
That tends thy Flocks?

Cor.
The same.

Am.
It cannot be
She, I am sure, Corisca?

Cor.
Very she,
I can assure thee, she is all his joy.

Am.
A proper choice for one that was so coy.

Cor.
But wilt thou know how he doth pine away
And languish for this Jewell? Every day
He feigns to go a hunting.

Am.
Every morn
Soon as it dawns I hear his cursed horn.

Cor.
And just at noon, when others are i'th'heat
Of all the sport, he doth by stealth retreat
From his Companions, and comes all alone
Unto my garden by a way unknown:
Where underneath a haw-thorn hedges shade
(Which doth the garden fence about) the Maid
Hears his hot sighs, and amorous pray'rs, which she
Comes laughing afterwards and tels to me.
Now hear what I to serve thee've thought upon;
Or rather, what I have already done.
I think thou knowst, that the same Law which hath
Enjoyn'd the woman to observe her faith
To her betrothed, likewise doth enact,
That if the woman catch him in the fact
Of falshood, spight of friends she may deny
To have him, and without disloyalty
Marry another.

Am.
This I know full well;
And there of some examples too could tell,
Of my own knowledge; Egle having found
Licotas false, remain'd her self unbound.
Armilla did from false Turingo so,
And Phillida from Ligurino go.

Cor.
Now list' to me: My Maid (by me set on)
Hath bid her credulous Lover meet anon
In yonder cave with her; whence he remains
The most contented of all living swains,
And waits but th'hour: there thou shalt catch him; where
I too will be witnesse of all to bear:
(For without this our plot would be in vain.)
So without any hazard, or least stain
To thine, or to thy fathers honour, thou
Shalt free thy self from this distastefull vow.

Am.
I like it rarely: but the way, the way,
Corisca?

Cor.
Marry thus (observe me pray)
I'th'middle of the cave (which narrow is
And very long) upon the right hand lies
Another lesser Grot (I know not whether
By nature, or by art, or both together
Made) in the hollow stone, whose slimie wall
Is hid with clinging Ivie, and a small
Hole in the roof lets light in from above,
(Fit receptacles for the thefts of Love,
Yet cheerfull too enough) there thou shalt hide
Thy self, and hidden in that place abide
Till the two Lovers come; I mean to send
Lisetta first, and after her, her friend,
Following his steps my self aloof: And when
I shall perceive him stept into the den,
Rush after him will I. But left he should
Escape from me: when I have laid fast hold
Upon him, I will use Lisetta's aid,
And joyning both (for so the plot is laid
Between us two) together we will make
A cry, at which thou too shalt come, and take
The penalty o'th'law 'gainst Silvio.
Then my Lisetta and we two will go
Before the Priest; and so thou shalt unty
The Nuptiall knot.

Am.
Before his Father?

Cor.
Why?
What matters that? Think'st thou Montano's blood
Will stand in balance with his Countries good?
Or that his sacred function hee'l neglect
For any carnall or profane respect?

Am.
Go to then (setting all disputes aside)
I wink, and follow thee my faithfull guide.

Cor.
Then linger not (my Heart) enter into
The Cave.

Am.
Unto the Temple first I'le go
“T'adore the gods: For unlesse Heaven give
“Successe, no mortall enterprise can thrive.

Cor.
“To devout hearts all places Temples are:
It will lose too much time.

Am.
“In using pray'r
“To them that made time, time cannot be lost.

Cor.
Go and return then quickly—. So almost
I'm past the bad way; onely this delay
Gives me some cause of trouble; yet this may
Be of use too. Something there would be done
T'abuse my honest Lover Coridon.
I'le say, I'le meet him in the Cave, and so
Will make him after Amarillis go.
This done, by a back way I'le thither send
The Priest of Dian her to apprehend:
Guilty she will be found, and sentenced
To death without all doubt. My Rivall dead,
Mirtillo is mine own: His cruelty
To me being caus'd by's love to her. But see
The man! I'le sound him till she comes. Now rise,
Rise all my Love into my tongue and eyes.

Scena sexta.

Mirtillo, Corisca.
Mir.
Hear ye damn'd spirits that in hell lament,
Hear a new sort of pain and punishment.
See in a Turtles look a Tigers minde!
She, crueller then death, 'cause she did find
One death would not suffice her bloody will,
And that to live was to be dying still,
Enjoyns me, not to make my self away,
That I might die a thousand times a day.

Cor.
(I'le make as though I saw him not) I hear
A dolefull voice pierce my relenting ear,
Who should it be? Mirtillo, is it thou?

Mir.
I would it were my ghost.

Cor.
Well, well: but how
(And tell me true) thy self now dost thou find,
Since to thy dearest Nymph thou brak'st thy mind?

Mir.
As one who in a feaver cast,
Forbidden liquor long'd to taste,
If gotten, sets it to his mouth,
And quenches life, but cannot drouth:
So I, with amorous feaver long
Consumed, from her eyes and tongue
Sweet poyson suck'd, which leaves me more
Enflamed then I was before.

Cor.
“Love upon us no power can have
“But what our selves (Mirtillo) gave.
“As a Bear doth with her tongue
“Polish her mishapen young
“Which had else in vain been born:
“So an Am'rist giving form
“To a rude and faint desire
“That would otherwise expire,
“Hatches Love; which is at first
“Weak and raw, but when 'tis nurst,
“Fierce and cruell. Take't upon
“My word, an old affection
“Tyrannizes in a brest,
“And grows a Master from a guest.
“For when the soul shall once be brought
“To be fettred to one thought,
“And that, not have the pow'r to move
“A minute from its object, Love
“(Made for delight) will turn to sadness;
“And which is worse, to death or madness.
“Therefore my advice shall be,
“To part thy love to two or three.

Mir.
Let death or madness me betide,
Rather then my Flame divide.
Amarillis (though she be
Cruell and unkind to me)
Is my Life and Reason too,
And to her I will be true.

Cor.
Foolish Swain! that canst not tell
How to make a bargain well.
What? change love for hatred? I
Rather now then do't would dye.

Mir.
“Cruelty doth faith refine,
“As the fire the golden mine:
“Where were the loyaltie of Love,
“If women should not tyrants prove?
In my many suffrings this
All my joy and comfort is,
Sorrows, tortures, exile, gall,
Here's a cause will sweeten all.
Let me languish, let me burn,
Let me any thing but turn.

Cor.
O brave Lover! valiant brest!
More impetuous then a beast!
And yet tamer then a rock
Which endures the Ocean's shock!
“In Lovers hearts there cannot be
“A worse disease then Constancie.
“O most unhappy those in whom
“This foolish Idol finds a room!
“Which shackles us, when we might prove
“The sweet variety of Love.
With this dull vertue Constancie,
Tell me (simple Lover) why
Amarillis? For her face?
Whom another must embrace?
Or do'st thou affect her mind,
Which to thee is not inclin'd?
All then thou canst doat upon
Is thine own destruction.
And wilt thou be still so mad
To covet that cannot be had?
Up Mirtillo, know thy parts:
Canst thou want a thousand hearts?
Others I dare swear there be,
That would sue as much to thee.

Mir.
To be Amarillis thrall
Is more then to command them all.
And if she my suit deny,
All that's pleasure I defie.
I to make another choice?
In another I rejoyce?
Neither could I if I would,
Neither would I if I could:
But if possible to me
Such a will or power be,
Heav'n and Love before that hour
Strip me of all will and pow'r.

Cor.
Thou art enchanted: otherwise
Couldst thou too thy self despise?

Mir.
I must, when I'm despis'd by her
(Corisca).

Cor.
Come Mirtillo, ne're
Deceive thy self: perhaps thou dost suppose
Shee loves thee in her heart, although shee showes
An outward scorn. If thou but knewst what shee
Talks oftentimes to me concerning thee.

Mir.
All these are trophies of my constant love,
With which I'le triumph o're the Pow'rs above,
And men below, my torments, and her hate,
O're Fortune and the world, o're Death and Fate.

Cor.
(Wonder of Constancy! if this man knew
How much hee's lov'd by her, what would hee do?)
Mirtillo, how it pities me to hear
These frantick speeches! Tell me, wert thou 'ere
In love before?

Mir.
Fair Amarillis was
My first, and shall be my last Love.

Cor.
Alas!
It should seem then that thou didst never prove
Any but cruell, but disdainfull Love.
O that't had been thy chance but once to be
In love with one that's gentle, courteous, free!
Try that a little: try it, and thou'lt finde
How sweet it is to meet with one that's kinde,
That loves and honours thee as much as thou
Thy sowre and cruell Amarillis; how
Delightfull 'tis to have a joy as great
As is thy love, a happinesse compleat
As thy own wish: to have thy Mistresse twine
About thy neck, and her sighs eccho thine:
And after say, My Joy, all that I have,
All that I am, and thy desires can crave,
At thy devotion is: If I am fair,
For thee I'm fair; for thee I deck this hair,
This face, this bosome; from this brest of mine
I turn'd out my own heart to harbour thine.—
But this is a small river to that vast
Sweet sea of pleasure which love makes us taste,
And they alone that taste can well relate.

Mir.
A thousand thousand times most fortunate
Is he that's born under so blest a star!

Cor.
Hear me Mirtillo: ('ere I was aware
I'd almost call'd him mine) a Nymph as fair
As the proud'st she that curls or spreads to th'air
Her golden tresses, worthy of thy love
As thou of hers, the honour of this Grove,
Love of all hearts; by every worthier swain
In vain sollicited, ador'd in vain,
Doth love thee onely, and thee onely prize
More then her life, and more then her own eyes.
Mirtillo, scorn her not, if wise thou be;
For as the shadow doth the body, she
Will follow thee through all the world: she will
At thy least word and beck be ready still
As thy obedient hand-maid: night and day
With thee shee'll passe the tedious hours away.
Ah! do not wave (Mirtillo) do not wave
So rare a blisse; the perfect'st joyes we have
Are those which neither sighs nor tears do cost,
Nor danger, and on which least time is lost.
Here thou hast passe-time at thy door, a feast
Upon the table alwayes ready drest
To please thy taste. Ay me! canst thou receive
A greater gift then this? Mirtillo, Leave,
Leave this cold hunting after flying feet,
And her that runs to thy embraces, meet.
Nor do I feed thee with vain hopes; command
Her come, and she that loves thee is at hand,
Now, if thou say the word.

Mir.
I prethee rest
Content, my pallat is not for a feast.

Cor.
Try but what joy is made of once, and then
Return unto thy wonted grief agen,
That thou maist say, thou hadst a taste of both.

Mir.
“Distemper'd palats all sweet things do loath.

Cor.
Yet do't in pitie unto her that dyes,
Unlesse sh'enjoy the sun of thy fair eyes.
Uncharitable youth, art not thou poor?
And canst thou beat a beggar from thy door?
Ah! what thou wouldst another should extend
To thee, do thou now to another lend.

Mir.
What alms can beggers give? In short, I swore
Allegeance to that Nymph whom I adore,
Whether she tyrant prov'd, or mercifull.

Cor.
O truly blind, and most unhappy, dull
Mirtillo! who is't thou art constant to?
I am unwilling to add woe to woe;
But thou art too much wrong'd I'faith, and I
That love thee am not able to stand by
And see thee so betraid. If thou suppose
This crueltie of Amarillis growes
From zeal to vertue or Religion,
Th'art gull'd: another doth possesse the throne,
And thou (poor wretch!) whilst he doth laugh, must cry.
What, stricken dumb?

Mir.
I'm in an ecstasie,
'Twixt life and death suspended, till I know
Whether I should believe thee now or no.

Cor.
Do'st not believe me then?

Mir.
If I did, I
Had not surviv'd it sure: and I will dye
Yet, if it be a truth.

Cor.
Live (Caitiffe) live
To be reveng'd.

Mir.
But I cannot believe
It is a truth.

Cor.
Wilt thou not yet believe,
But force me to tell that which it will grieve
Thy soul to hear? Do'st thou see yonder cave?
That is thy Mistresse Faith's and Honour's grave:
There laughs sh'at thee, there makes of thy anoy
A poynant sawce to thy tir'd Rivals joy.
In short; there oft a base-born shepherd warms
Thy vertuous Amarillis in his arms.
Now go and sigh, and whine, and constant prove
Unto a Nymph that thus rewards thy love.

Mir.
Ay me Corisca! do'st thou tell me true?
And is it fit I should believe thee too?

Cor.
The more thou searchest, 'twill the worser be.

Mir.
But didst thou see't Corisca? wo is me!

Cor.
Truth is, I did not see it, but thou mayst,
And presently, for she her word hath past
To meet him there this very hour: But hide
Thy self beneath that shady hedges side,
And thou thy self shalt see her straight descend
Into the cave, and after her, her friend.

Mir.
So quickly must I dye?

Cor.
See! I have spi'd
Her coming down already by the side
O'th'Temple: mark! how guiltily she moves!
Her stealing pace betraying their stoln loves.
To mark the sequell, do thou here remain,
And afterwards we two will meet again.

Mir.
Since the discovery of the truth's so neer,
With my belief I will my death defer.

Scena septima.

Amarillis.
“No mortall work successfully is done
“Which with th'immortall gods is not begun.
Full of distractions, and with heavie heart
I did from hence unto the Temple part:
Whence (Heaven be prais'd) I come as light as air,
And strangely comforted: for at my pray'r
Pure and devout, I felt from thence, (me thought)
Another soul into my body shot,
Which whisper'd, Fear not Amarillis, go
Securely on. I, and I will do so,
Heav'n guiding.—Fair Mother of Love, befriend
Her that on thee for succour doth depend:
Thou that as Queen in the third Orb do'st shine,
If e're thou felt'st thy Son's flames, pitie mine.
Bring (courteous Goddesse) by a secret path
Quickly that youth to whom I've pawn'd my faith.
And thou deer cave, till I have done my work,
Suffer this slave of Love in thee to lurk.
But Amarillis, all the coast is cleer,
None nigh to see thee, and none nigh to hear;
Securely enter. O Mirtillo, O
Mirtillo, if thou dream'dst wherefore I go!—

Scena octava.

Mirtillo.

Scena nona.

Satyr.
Does he believe Corisca? and pursue
Her steps to Erycina's Cave? a beast
Hath wit enough to apprehend the rest.
But if thou dost believe her, thou hadst need
Have from her good security indeed,
And hold her by a stronger tie then I
Had lately of her hair. But stronger tie
On her there cannot be then gifts. This bold
Strumpet her self to this young swain hath sold.
And here, by the false light now of this vaut
Delivers the bad ware which he hath bought.
Or rather, 'tis Heav'ns justice which hath sent
Her hither to receive her punishment
From my revenging hands. His words did seem
T'imply she made some promise unto him,
Which he believ'd: and by his spying here
Her print, that she is in the cave, 'tis cleer.
Do a brave thing then: stop the mouth o'th'cave
With that great hanging stone, that they may have
No means of scaping; to the Priest then go,
And bring by the back-way (which few do know)
His ministers to apprehend, and by
The Law deservedly to make her dye.
For 'tis not unto me long since unknown,
That she contracted is to Coridon,
How-ever he (because he stands in fear
Of me) to lay his claim to her forbear.
But now I'le give him leave at once to be
Reveng'd on her both for him self and me.
But I lose time in talk. From this young Grove
I'le pull a tree up by the root, to move
The stone withall. So, this I think will do.
How heavie 'tis! The stone hath a root too.
What if I min'd it with this trunk? and so,
As with a leaver heav'd it from below?
Good, good; now to the other side as much.
How fast it sticks? I did not think it such
A difficult attempt as it hath prov'd;
The Center of the earth were easier mov'd.
Nor strength, nor skill will do this work I, see:
Or do's that vigour which was once in me
Now fail me at my need? What do ye do
My perverse Stars? I will, (in spight of you)
I will remove it yet. The Divell haule
Corisca, (I had almost said) and all
The sex of them. O Pan Liceus, hear,
And to move this, be moved by my pray'r!
Pan, thou that all things canst, and all things art,
Thou once thy self didst woe a stubborn heart,
Revenge on false Corisca now, thine own
And my despised Love. I move the stone
Thus by the vertue of thy sacred name;
Thus rowls it by the vertue of the same.
So, now the Fox is trapt, and finely shut
Where she had earth'd her self. I'le now go put
Fire to the hole; where I could wish to find
The rest of women, to destroy the kind.

Chorus.
O love ! how potent and how great thou art!
Wonder of nature and the world! What heart
So dull, as not to feel thy pow'r? What wit
So deep and piercing, as to fathom it?
Who knows thy hot lascivious fires; will say,
Infernall spirit, thou dost live and sway
In the corporeall part. But who so knowes
How thou dost men to vertuous things dispose,
And how the dying flame of loose desires
Looks pale, and trembles at thy chaster fires;
Will say, Immortall God, i'th'soul alone
Thou hast established thy sacred Throne.
“Rare Monster! wonderfully got betwixt
“Desire and Reason; an affection mixt
“Of sense and intellect: With knowing wilde:
“With seeing blinde: A God, and yet a childe:
And (such) thou sway'st the Earth and Heaven too;
On which thou tread'st as we on t'other do.
Yet (by thy leave) a greater miracle,
A mightier thing then thou art I can tell.
For all thou do'st (that may our wonder claim)
Thou dost by vertue of a womans name.
Woman! the gift of heav'n; or of him rather
Who made thee fairer, being of both the Father,
Wherein is Heav'n so beautifull as thou?
That rowls one goggle eye in its vast brow
(Like a grim Cyclop) not a lamp of light,
But cause of blindnesse and Cymerian night
To the bold gazer: if that speak, it is
A thundring voice; and if it sigh, the hisse
Of earth-engendred windes. Thou, with the fair
Angel-like prospect of two Suns, which are
Serene and visible, doest still the windes
And calm the Billows of tempestuous mindes;
And Sound, Light, Motion, Beauty, Majesty,
Make in thy face so sweet a harmony,
That heav'n (I mean this outward heav'n) must needs
Confesse thy form the form of that exceeds:
Since beauty that is dead lesse noble is
Then that which lives, and is a place of blisse.
With reason therefore man (that gallant creature,
That lords it over all the works of Nature)
To thee as Lady Paramount payes duty,
Acknowleding in thine, thy Makers beauty.
And if hee Triumphs gain, and Thrones inherit,
It is not because thou hast lesse of merit;
But for thy glory: since a greater thing
It is to conquer, then to be a King.
But that thy conqu'ring beauty doth subdue
Not onely man, but ev'n his Reason too,
If any doubt, hee in Mirtillo hath
A miracle that may constrain his faith.
This wanted (Woman) to thy pow'r before
To make us love when we can hope no more.