University of Virginia Library

Actus Quintus.

Scena Prima.

URANIO, CARINO.
Ur.
“All places are our Country where w'are well:
“Which to the wife is wheresoe're they dwel.

Car.
It is most true Uranio: and no man
By proof can say it better then I can:
Who leaving long ago my Fathers house,
(Being very young, and then ambitious
Of something more then holding of the plough,
Or keeping sheep) travell'd abroad: and now
To the same point where I began, return,
When my gilt locks are to the silver worn.
“Yet a sweet thing (it needs must be confest)
“To any that hath sense, is his first nest.
“For Nature gave to all men at their birth
“Something of secret love unto that Earth
“Where they were born, which never old doth grow
“In us, but follows wheresoe're we go.
“The Loadstone which the wary Mariner
“Doth as Directer of his travels bear
“Now to the rising Sun, now to his set,
“Doth never lose that hidden vertue yet,
“Which makes it to the North retort its look:
“So he that hath his native soil forsook,
“Though he may wander far, much compasse take,
“I, and his nest in forraign Countries make;
“Yet that same naturall love doth still retain
“Which makes him wish his native soil again.
O fair Arcadia! the sweetest part
Of all the world (at least to me thou art)
Which my feet trod on, but my thoughts adore!
Had I been landed blindfold on thy shore,
Yet then I should have known thee, such a floud
Of sudden joy runs races with my bloud:
Such a Magnetick powerfull sympathie,
And unaccustom'd tendernesse feel I.
Thou then, that my companion hast been
In travels and in sorrowes, shalt be in
At my joyes too: 'tis reason thou shouldst go
My half in happinesse, as well as woe.

Ura.
Companion of thy travels I have been,
Not of the fruit thereof; for thou art in
Thy native soil, where thou repose maist find
For thy tir'd body, and more tired mind:
But I that am a stranger, and am come
So many leagues from my poor house, and from
My poorer and distressed Family,
Trailing my wearied lims along with thee,
For my afflicted body well may find
Repose, but not for my afflicted mind:
Thinking what pledges do behinde remain,
And how much rugged way I must again
Tread over e're I rest. Nor do I know
Who else could have prevail'd with me to go
From Elis in my gray unweildy age
(Not knowing why) so long a pilgrimage.

Car.
Thou knowst, my sweet Mirtillo (who was giv'n
As a son to me by propitious Heav'n)
Some two months since came hither to be well
(By my advice, or of the Oracle,
To speak more true, which said, Th'Arcadian air
Was th'only means that could his health repair.)
Now I, that find it an exceeding pain
Without so deer a pledge long to remain,
Consulting the same Oracle, enquir'd
When he'ld return whom I so much desir'd.
The Answer was the same I tell thee now;
Unto thy ancient Country return thou;
Where with thy sweet Mirtillo thou shalt be
Happy; for in that place (by Heaven) hee
Is mark'd out for great things: But till thou come
Into Arcadia, touching this be dumb.
Thou then, my faithfullest Companion,
My lov'd Uranio, who hast ever gone.
A share in all my fortunes hitherto,
Repose thy body, and thou shalt have too
Cause to repose thy minde: 'twixt me and thee
(If Heav'n perform what it hath promis'd me)
All shall be common: no successe can glad
Carino, if he see Uranio sad.

Ur.
My deer Carino, what I do for thee,
Rewards it self, if it accepted be.
But what at first could make thee to forgo
Thy native Country, if thou lov'st it so?

Car.
A love to Poetry, and to the lowd
Musick of Fame resounding in a crowd.
For I my self (greedy of forraigne praise)
Disdain'd Arcadia onely should my Layes
Hear and applaud: as if my native Soile
Were narrow limits to my growing Style.
I went to Elis, and to Pisa then,
(Famous themselves, and giving fame to men)
There saw I that lov'd Egon, first with Bayes,
With Purple then, with Vertue deckt alwayes:
That he on earth Apollo's self did seem:
Therefore my heart and Harp I unto him
Did consecrate, devoted to his name.
And in his house (which was the house of Fame)
I should have set up my perpetuall rest,
There to admire and imitate the best,
If as Heav'n made me happy here below,
So it had gi'n me too the grace to know
And keep my happinesse. How I forsook
Elis and Pisa after, and betook
My selfe to Argos and Micene, where
An earthly god I worshipt, with what there
I sufferd in that hard captivity,
Would be too long for thee to hear, for me
Too sad to utter. Onely thus much know,
I lost my labour, and in sand did sow:
I writ, wept, sung, hot and cold fits I had,
I rid, I stood, I bore, now sad, now glad,
Now high, now low, now in esteem, now scorn'd;
And as the Delphick iron, which is turnd
Now to Heroick, now Mechanick use,
I fear'd no danger, did no pains refuse,
Was all things, and was nothing; chang'd my hair,
Condition, custome, thoughts, and life, but ne're
Could change my fortune. Then I knew at last
And panted after my sweet freedome past.
So flying smoaky Argos, and the great
Storms that attend on greatnesse, my retreat
I made to Pisa (my thoughts quiet port)
Where (praise be giv'n to the Eternall for't)
Upon my deer Mirtillo I did light,
Which all past sorrowes fully did requite.

Ura.
“A thousand thousand times that man is blest
“Can clip the wings of his aspiring brest!
“Nor for the shadow of great happinesse
“Doth throw away the substance of the lesse!

Car.
But who'd have dreamt midst plenty to grow poor?
Or to be lesse by toiling to be more?
I thought by how much more in Princes Courts
Men did excell in Titles and Supports,
So much the more obliging they would be
(The best enamell of Nobility).
But now the contrary by proof I've seen:
Courtiers in name, and Courteous in their meen
They are; but in their actions I could spie
Not the least spark or drachm of Courtesie.
People in shew smooth as the calmed waves:
Yet cruell as the Ocean when it raves.
Men in appearance onely I did finde,
Love in the face, but malice in the minde:
With a streight look a squinting heart; and least
Fidelity where greatest was profest.
That which elsewhere is vertue, is vice there:
Plain troth, square dealing, love unfeign'd, sincere
Compassion, faith inviolable, and
An innocence both of the heart and hand,
They count the folly of a soul that's vile
And poor, a vanity worthy their smile.
To cheat, to lie, deceit and theft to use,
And under shew of pity to abuse,
To rise upon the ruines of their Brothers,
And seek their own by robbing praise from others,
The vertues are of that perfidious race.
No worth, no valour, no respect of place,
Of Age, or Law, bridle of modestie,
No tie of love, or blood, nor memorie
Of good receiv'd; no thing's so venerable,
Sacred or just, that is inviolable
By that vast thirst of Riches, and desire
Unquenchable of still ascending higher.
Now I (not fearing, since I meant not ill,
And in Court-craft not having any skill,
Wearing my thoughts caracterd in my brow,
And a glasse-window in my brest) judge thou
How open and how fair a mark my heart
Lay to their Envie's unsuspected dart.

Ura.
“Who now can boast of earth's felicity,
“When Envie treads on vertues heels?

Car.
O my
Uranio, If since my Muse and I
From Elis past to Argos, I had found
Such cause to sing, as I had ample ground
To weep, perchance in such a lofty key
I'd sung my Master's glorious Arms, that hee
Should have no cause, for the felicity
Of his Meonian trumpet to envie
Achilles: and my Country (which doth bring
Such haplesse Poets forth as Swan-like sing
Their own sad fates) should by my means have now
A second Lawrell to impale her brow.
But in this age (inhumane age the while!)
The art of Poetry is made too vile.
“Swans must have pleasant nests, high feeding, fair
“Weather to sing: and with a load of care
“Men cannot climb Parnassus cliffe: for he
“Who is still wrangling with his Destinie
“And his malignant fortune, becomes hoarse,
“And loses both his singing and discourse.
—But now 'tis time to seek Mirtillo out:
Although I find the places hereabout
So chang'd and alter'd from their ancient wont,
I for Arcadia in Arcadia hunt.
But come Uranio gladly for all this;
A traveller with language cannot misse
His way: Or, since th'art weary, thou wert best
To stay at the next Inne to take some rest.

Scena secunda.

Titiro, Messenger.
Tit.
Which first, my Daughter, shall I mourn in thee,
Thy losse of Life, or of thy Chastitie?
I'le mourn thy Chastitie: for thou wert born
Of mortall parents, but not bad. I'le mourn
Not thy life lost, but mine preserv'd, to see
Thy losse of Life, and of thy Chastitie.
Thou with thy Oracles mysterious cloud
(Wrongly conceiv'd Montano,) and thy proud
Despiser both of love, and of my Daughter,
Unto this miserable end hast brought her.
Ay me! how much more certain at this time
My Oracles have shew'd themselves then thine!
“For honesty in a young heart doth prove
“But a weak sconce against assaulting love.
“And 'tis most true, a woman that's alone,
“Hath a most dangerous companion.

Mess.
Were he not under ground, or flown through th'air,
I should have found him sure. But soft, he's there
(I think) where least I thought. Th'art met by me
Too late, old Father, but too soon for thee:
I've news.

Tit.
What bringst thou in thy mouth? the knife
That hath bereft my Daughter of her life?

Mess.
Not that; yet little lesse. But how I pray
Got'st thou this news so soon another way?

Tit.
Doth she then live?

Mess.
She lives, and in her choice
It is to Live or Die.

Tit.
Blest be that voice!
Why is she then not safe, if she may give
Her no to death?

Mess.
Because she will not live.

Tit.
Will not? what madnesse makes her life despise?

Mess.
Another's death. And (if that thy advice
Remove her not) she is thereon so bent
That all the world cannot her death prevent.

Tit.
Why stand we talking here then? Let us go.

Mess.
Stay: yet the Temple's shut. Dost thou not know
That none but holy feet on holy earth
May tread, till from the vestry they bring forth
The destin'd Sacrifice in all it's trim?

Tit.
But before that—

Mess.
She's watch't.

Tit.
I'th'interim
Relate then all that's past, and to me show
The truth unveil'd.

Mess.
Thy wretched Daughter (Oh
Sad spectacle!) being brought before the Priest,
Did not alone from the beholders wrest
Salt tears; but (trust me) made the marble melt,
And the hard flint the dint of pity felt.
Shee was accus'd, convict, and sentence past
All in a trice.

Tit.
(Poor girl!) and why such haste?

Mess.
Because the evidence was cleer as day:
Besides, a certain Nymph (who she did say
Could witnesse she was guiltlesse) was not there,
Nor could by any search be brought t'appear.
Then the dire Omens of some threatned ill
And horrid visions which the Temple fill
Brook no delay, to us more frightfull farre,
By how much more unusuall they are,
Nor ever seen, since the vext Pow'rs above
Reveng'd the wrong of scorn'd Aminta's Love.
(Who was their Priest whence all our woes had birth)
The Goddesse sweats cold drops of blood, the Earth
Is Palsey-shook; the sacred Cavern howls
With such unwonted sounds as tortur'd souls
Send out of graves, and belches up a smell
From its fowl jawes, scarce to be match'd in hell.
His sad Procession now the Priest began
To lead t'a bloody death thy Daughter, whan
Mirtillo seeing her, (behold a strange
Proof of Affection!) profferd to exchange
His life for hers; crying aloud, Her hands
Untie (Ah how unworthy of such bands!)
And in her stead (who is design'd to be
A Sacrifice to Dian) offer me
A sacrifice to Amarillis.

Tit.
There
Spake a true Lover, and above base fear!

Mess.
The wonder follows: she that was afraid
Before of dying, on the sudden made
Now valiant by Mirtillo's words, reply'd,
Thus, with a heart at death unterrifi'd,
But dost thou think (Mirtillo) then to give
Life by thy death to her, who in thee doth live?
It cannot, must not be: Come Priests, away
With me to th'Altar now without delay.
Ah! (cry'd the Swain) such love I did not lack:
Back cruell Amarillis, O come back:
Now thou art more unkind then e're thou wert:
'Tis I should die. Quoth she, thou act'st my part.
And here between them grew so fierce a strife,
As if that life were death, and death were life.
O noble souls! O Pair eternally
To be renown'd, whether ye live or die!
O glorious Lovers! if I had tongues more
Then Heaven hath eyes, or sands are on the shore,
Their voices would be drowned in the mainsea
of your endlesse Praises. Glorious Dame,
Daughter of Jove (eternall as thy Father)
That Mortals deeds immortallizest, gather
Thou the fair story, and in diamond pages
With golden letters write to after ages
The bravery of both Lovers.

Tit.
But who wan
The conquest in that strife of death?

Mess.
The Man.
Strange warre! which to the victor death did give,
And where the vanquish't was condemn'd to live.
For thus unto thy daughter spake the Priest;
Nymph, let's alone, and set thy heart at rest;
Chang'd for another none can be again,
Who for another in exchange was ta'ne.
This is our Law. Then a strict charge he gave,
Upon the Maid such carefull watch to have,
As that she might not lay a violent hand
Upon her self through sorrow. Thus did stand
The state of matters, when in search of thee
Montano sent me.

Tit.
'Tis most true I see,
“Well-water'd Meads may be without sweet flowers
“In Spring; without their verdant honour Bowers;
“And without chirping birds a pleasant Grove;
“'Ere a fair maid and young without her Love.
But if we loiter here, how shall we know
The hour when to the Temple we should go?

Mess.
Here better then elsewhere: For here it is
The honest Swain must be a sacrifice.

Tit.
And why not in the Temple?

Mess.
Because in
The place 'twas done our law doth punish sin.

Tit.
Then why not in the cave? The sin was there.

Mess.
Because it must be in the open air.

Tit.
By whom hast thou these mysteries been told?

Mess.
By the chief Minister, and hee by old
Tirenio; who the false Lucrina knew
So sacrificed, and Aminta true.
But now 'tis time to go indeed; for see,
The sacred pomp descends the hill! yet wee
May for thy daughter to the Temple go
Before they come: “Devotion marches slow.

Scena tertia.

Chorus of Shepherds, Chorus of Priests, Montano, Mirtillo.
Cho. Sh.
Sol's sister, Daughter of great Jupiter,
That shin'st a second Sun in the first Sphere
To the blind world!

Ch. Pr.
Thou whose life-giving, and more temp'rate Ray
Thy Brother's burning fury doth allay;
Whence bounteous Nature here produces after
All her blest off-springs, and Air, Earth, and Water
Enriches and augments with Vegetals,
With Creatures sensitive, with Rationals.
Ah, pity thy Arcadia, and that rage
Thou dost in others, in thy self asswage!

Ch.Sh.
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great Jupiter,
That shin'st a second Sun in the first Sphere
To the blind world!

Mont.
Now sacred Ministers the Altars dresse:
You likewise Swains, that shew your selves no lesse
Devout then they, your voyces all unite,
And once again invoke the Queen of Night.

Ch.Sh.
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great Jupiter,
That shin'st a second Sun in the first Sphere
To the blind world!

Mont.
Now shepherds and my servants all,
Withdraw your selves, and come not till I call.
Valiant young man (who to bestow upon
Another, life, abandonest thine owne)
Die with this comfort: For a puffe of breath
(Which by the abject spirit is call'd death)
Thou buy'st Eternity: and when the tooth
Of envious Time (consuming the world's youth)
Millions of lesser names devoured hath,
Then thou shalt live the pattern of true faith.
But for the Law commands that thou shouldst die
A silent Sacrifice, before thou ply
Thy knee to earth, if thou wouldst ought deliver,
Speak; and hereafter hold thy peace for ever.

Mir.
Father, (for though thou kill me, yet I must
Give thee that name) My body to the dust,
Whereof 'twas made and kneaded up, I give;
My Soule to her in whom alone I live.
But if she die, (as she hath vow'd) of me
What part (alas!) will then surviving be?
How sweet will death be unto me, if I
In mine owne person, not in hers, may die!
And if he merit pity at his death
Who for meer pity now resignes his breath,
Take care (deer Father) of her life, that I
Wing'd with that hope, t'a better life may fly.
Let my Fate rest at my destruction,
Stop at my ruine; but when I am gone,
Let my divorced soul in her survive,
Although from her I was divorc'd alive.

Mont.
(Scarcely can I refrain from weeping now:
O our mortality how frail art thou!)
Son be of comfort, for I promise thee
I will perform all thou desir'st of me:
Here's my hand on't, and solemnly I swear,
Ev'n by this Miter'd head.

Mir.
Then vanish fear.
And now for the most faithfull soul make room,
For (Amarillis) unto thee I come.
With the sweet name of Amarillis I
Close up my mouth, and silent kneel to die.

Mont.
Now sacred Ministers, the Rites begin;
With liquid odoriferous Gumms keep in
The flame, and strowing frankincense and mirrhe,
Whole clouds of perfume to the Gods preferre.

Cho.Sh.
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great Jupiter,
That shin'st a second Sun in the first Sphere
To the blind world!

Scena quarta.

Carino, Montano, Nicandro, Mirtillo, Chorus of Shepherds.
Car.
Did ever man so many houses view,
And the inhabitants thereof so few?
But see the cause! If I mistake me not,
They're gotten all together here: O what
A troop! how rich! how solemn! It is sure
Some Sacrifice.

Mont.
Give me the golden Ewre
With the red wine, Nicandro.

Nic.
There.

Mont.
So may
Soft pity in thy brest revive to day
By this unguilty blood (Goddesse divine)
As by the sprinkling of these drops of wine
This pale and dying flame revives. Set up
The golden Ewre. Reach mee the silver cup.
So may the burning wrath he quencht, which in
Thy brest was kindled by a false Maid's sinne,
As with this water (powr'd out like our tears)
I quench this flame.

Car.
'T's a Sacrifice: but where's
The offering?

Mont.
Now all's prepar'd, there lacks
Onely the fatall stroak. Lend me the Axe.

Car.
I see a thing (unlesse my eyes mistake)
Like a man kneeling this way with his back.
Is he the offering? 'Tis so: Ah wretch!
And o're his head the Priest his hand doth stretch.
O my poor Country! after all these years
Is not Heav'ns wrath yet quencht with blood and tears?

Ch.Sh.
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great Jupiter,
That shin'st a second Sun in the first Sphere
To the blind world!

Mont.
Revengefull Goddesse, who a private fault
With publick rod dost punish: (Thou hast thought
Fit so to doe, and so in the Abysse
Of Providence eternall fixt it is)
Since faithlesse Lucrin's tainted blood was thought
For thy nice Justice too impure a draught:
Carouse the guiltlesse blood then of this Swain,
By me now at thy Altar to be slain
A willing Sacrifice, and to his Lasse
As true a Lover as Aminta was.

Ch.Sh.
Sol's Sister, Daughter of great Jupiter,
That shin'st a second Sun in the first Sphere
To the blind world!

Mont.
Ah, how my brest with pity now relents!
What sudden numnesse fetters every sense!
I ne're was so before; To lift this Axe
My hands lack strength, and my heart courage lacks.

Car.
I'le see the wretches face, and so be gone:
For such dire sights I cannot look upon.

Mont.
Perhaps the Sun, though setting will not look
On humane Sacrifice, and I am strook
Therefore with horrour. Shepherd, change thy place,
And to the Mountain turn thy dying face.
So, now 'tis well.

(Car.
Alas, what gaze I at?
Is't not my Son? Is't not Mirtillo, that?)

Mon.
Now I can do't.

(Car.
'Tis he.)

Mon.
And aim my blow—

Car.
Hold sacred Minister, what dost thou do?

Mont.
Nay thou, profane rash man, how dar'st thou thus
Impose a sacrilegious hand on us?

Car.
O all my joy Mirtillo! I ne're thought—

Mon.
(Avant old man, that dot'st, or art distraught,)

Car.
T'imbrace thee in this sort.

Mont.
Avant, I say
It is not lawfull impure hands to lay
Upon things sacred to the gods.

Car.
'Twas they
That sent me to this place.

Mont.
Nicandro, stay,
We'l hear him, and then let him go his way.

Car.
Ah, courteous Minister! before thy hand
Upon the life of this young man descend,
Tell me but why he dyes. This I implore
By that Divinitie thou dost adore.

Mon.
By such a Goddesse thou conjur'st me, that
I should be impious to deny. But what
Concerns it thee?

Car.
More then thou dost suppose.

Mon.
Because to die he for another chose.

Car.
Then I will die for him: O, take in stead
Of his, this old already tott'ring head.

Mon.
Thou rav'st friend.

Car.
Why am I deni'd that now
Which unto him was granted?

Mon.
Because thou
A stranger art.

Car.
And if I should prove none,
What then?

Mon.
Although thou shouldst, it were all one;
Because he cannot be exchang'd again
Who for another in exchange was ta'ne.
But who art thou, if thou no stranger be?
Thy habit speaks thee not of Arcadie.

Car.
Yet am I an Arcadian.

Mont.
I did ne're
See thee before (to my remembrance) here.

Car.
My name's Carino; I was born hard by:
(This wretche's Father who is now to die)

Mont.
Hence, hence, lest through thy fond paternal love
Our Sacrifice should vain and fruitlesse prove.

Car.
O if thou wert a Father!

Mont.
I am one:
I, and the Father of an onely Son.
A tender Father too; yet if this were
My Silvio's head (by Silvio's head I swear)
I would as forward be to do to his
What I must do to this. “For no man is
“Worthy this sacred Robe, but he that can
“For publick good put off the private man.

Car.
Yet let me kisse him 'ere he die.

Mon.
Nor touch.

Car.
O mine own flesh and blood! art thou so much
A tyrant to me too, as to afford
To thy afflicted Parent not one word?

Mir.
Dear Father, Peace.

(Mon.
Alas! we are all spoild:
The sacrifice (O Heavens!) is defil'd.)

Mir.
That blood, that life which thou didst give to me,
Spent for a better cause can never be.

Mont.
Did I not say his vow of silence hee
Would break, when he his Fathers tears should see?

Mirt.
That such a grosse mistake I should commit!
My vow of silence I did quite forgit.

Mon.
But Ministers, why do yee gazing stay?
Him to the Temple quickly reconvay.
There in the holy Cloister again take
The voluntary Oath of him: then back
Returning him with pomp along with you
For a new Sacrifice bring all things new,
New fire, and new water, and new wine.
Quickly: for Phœbus doth apace decline.

Scena quinta.

Montano, Carino, Dameta.
Mon.
Now thou old doting fool: thank Heav'n thou art
His Father; for (by Heav'n) unlesse thou wert,
To day I'd make thee feel my fury, since
Thou hast so much abus'd my Patience.
Knowst thou who I am? Knowst thou that this wand
Doth both Divine and Humane things command?

Car.
“Let not the Priest of Heav'n offended be
“For begging mercy.

Mont.
I have sufferd thee
Too long, and that hath made thee insolent.
Dost thou not know, “when anger wanteth vent
“In a just bosome, it is gathering strength
“Within, and bursts out with more force at length?

Car.
“Anger was never in a noble mind
“A furious tempest: but a gentle wind
“Of Passion onely, which but stirs the soul,
“(Where Reason still doth keep her due comptroll)
“Lest it should grow a standing pool, unfit
“For vertuous action. If I cannot get
Thee to extend that mercy which I crave,
Afford me justice; this I ought to have
From thee. “For they who lawes to others give,
“Ought not themselves without all law to live.
“And he that is advanc'd to greater sway,
“Him that requireth Justice must obey.
And (Witnesse) I require it now of thee;
Do't for thy self, if thou wilt not for me.
Thou art unjust if thou Mirtillo slay.

Mont.
I prethee how?

Car.
To me didst thou not say,
Thou mightst not offer here a strangers blood?

Mon.
I did: and said what Heav'n commanded.

Car.
Good:
This is a stranger then.

Mon.
A stranger? what?
Is he not then thy Son?

Car.
All's one for that.

Mon.
Is't that thou gott'st him in a forraign land?

Car.
The more thou seek'st, the lesse thou't understand.

Mon.
It skils not here, where, but by whom hee's got.

Car.
I call him stranger, cause I got him not.

Mon.
Is hee thy Son then, and not got by thee?

Car.
I said he was my Son; not born of me.

Mon.
Thy grief hath made thee mad.

Car.
I would it had!
I should not feel my grief, if I were mad.

Mon.
Thou art or mad, or impious, chuse thou whether.

Car.
For telling the truth to thee I am neither.

Mon.
How can both these (son and not son) be true?

Car.
Son of my Love, not of my Loins.

Mon.
Go to;
He is no stranger, if he be thy Son:
If he be not, to thee no harm is done.
So Father, or not Father, th'art confuted.

Car.
“Truth is truth still: though it be ill disputed.

Mont.
“That man that utters contradictions must
“Speak one untruth.

Car.
Thy action is unjust,
I say again.

Mont.
Let all this action's guilt
Light on my head, and on my Son's.

Car.
Thou wilt
Repent it.

Mont.
Thou shalt, if thou wilt not take
Thy hands from off me.

Car.
My appeal I make
To men and Gods.

Mon.
To God, despis'd by thee?

Car.
And if thou wilt not hear, hearken to me
O Heav'n and Earth! and thou great Goddesse here
Ador'd! Mirtillo is a Forraigner,
No Son of mine: the holy Sacrifice
Thou dost profane.

Mon.
Blesse me good Heav'ns from this
Strange man! Say then, if he be not thy Son,
Who is his Father?

Car.
'Tis to me unknown.

Mo.
Is he thy kinsman?

C.
Neither.

M.
Why dost thou then
Call him thy Son?

Car.
'Cause from the instant when
I had him first, I bred him as mine own
Still with a fatherly affection.

Mo.
Didst buy him? steal him? from whence hadst him?

(Ca.
From
Elis (the gift of a strange man).

Mon.
From whom
Had that strange man him?

Ca.
That strange man? why he
Had him of me before.

Mon.
Thou mov'st in me
At the same time both laughter and disdain:
What thou gav'st him, did he give thee again?

Car.
I gave to him what was his own; then he
Return'd it as his courteous gift to me.

Mo.
And whence hadst thou (since thou wilt make me mad
For company) that which from thee he had?

Car.
Within a thicket of sweet Mirtle, I
Had newly found him accidentally,
Neer to Alfeo's mouth, and call'd him thence
Mirtillo.

Mon.
With what likely circumstance
Thou dost thy lye embroider? Are there any
Wild beasts within that Forrest?

Car.
Very many.

Mon.
Why did not they devour him?

Car.
A strong flood
Had carry'd him into that tuft of wood,
And left him in the lap of a small Isle
Defended round with water.

Mon.
Thou dost file
One Lye upon another well. And was
The flood so pitifull to let him passe
Undrown'd? Such nurses in thy Country are
The Brooks, to foster infants with such care?

Car.
He lay within a cradle, which with mud
And other matter gather'd by the flood
Calk't (to keep out the water) like a Boat
Had to that thicket carry'd him afloat.

Mon.
Within a cradle lay he?

Car.
Yes.

Mon.
A child
In swathing bands?

Car.
A sweet one; and it smil'd.

Mon.
How long ago might this be?

Car.
'Tis soon cast:
Since the great Flood some twenty yeers are past,
And then it was.

Mon.
What horrour do I feel
Creep thorow my veins!

Car.
He's silenc'd, and yet will
Be obstinate. “O the strange pride of those
“In place! who conquer'd, yeeld not: but suppose,
“Because that they have all the wealth, with it
“They must be Masters too of all the wit.
Sure hee's convinc'd; and it doth vex him too,
As by his mutt'ring he doth plainly show:
And one may see some colour he would find
To hide the errour of a haughty mind.

Mon.
But that strange man of whom thou tel'st me, what
Was he unto the child? his father?

Car.
That
I do not know.

Mon.
Nor didst thou ever know
More of the man then thou hast told mee?

Car.
No.
Why all these Questions?

Mon.
If thou saw'st him now,
Should'st know him?

Car.
Yes; he had a beetle-brow,
A down-look, middle-stature, with black hair,
His beard and eye-browes did with bristles stare.

Mo.
Shepherds & servants mine, approach.

Da.
W'are here.

Mon.
Which of these shepherds who do now appear,
To him thou talk'st of likest seems to thee?

Car.
Not onely like him, but the same is hee
Whom thou talkst with: and still the man doth show
The same he did some twenty yeers agoe,
For he hath chang'd no hair, though I am gray.

Mon.
Withdraw, and let Dameta onely stay.
Tell me, dost thou know him?

Dam.
I think I doe:
But where, or how I know not.

Car.
I'le renew
Thy memory by tokens.

Mon.
Let me talk
First with him if thou please, and do thou walk
Aside a while.

Car.
Most willingly what thou
Command'st I'le doe.

Mon.
Tell me Dameta now,
And do not lie.

(Dam.
O Gods, what storm comes here!)

Mon.
When thou cam'st back ('tis since some twenty yeer)
From seeking of my child, which the swoln Brook
Away together with its cradle took,
Didst thou not tell me thou hadst sought with pain
All that Alpheo bathes, and all in vain?

Dam.
Why dost thou ask it me?

Mon.
Answer me this:
Didst thou not say thou couldst not find him?

Dam.
Yes.

Mon.
What was that little infant then which thou
In Elis gav'st to him that knows thee now?

Dam.
'Twas twenty yeers ago; and wouldst thou have
An old man now remember what he gave?

Mon.
Hee is old too, and yet remembers it.

Dam.
Rather is come into his doting fit.

Mon.
That we shall quickly see: Where art thou stranger?

Ca.
Here.

Da.
Would thou wert interr'd, & I from danger!

Mon.
Is this the Shepherd that bestow'd on thee
The present, art thou sure?

Car.
I'm sure 'tis hee.

Da.
What present?

Car.
Dost thou not remember when
In Jove Olympicks Fane, thou having then
Newly receiv'd the Oracles reply,
And being just on thy departure, I
Encountred thee, and asking then of thee
The signes of what th'adst lost, thou toldst them mee;
Then I did take thee to my house, and there
Shew'd thee thy child laid in a cradle; where
Thou gav'st him me.

Dam.
What is inferr'd from hence?

Car.
The child thou gav'st me then, and whom I since
Have brought up, as a tender Father doth
An onely Son, is this unhappy youth
Who on this Altar now is doom'd to die
A Sacrifice.

Dam.
O force of Destinie!

Mon.
Art studying for more lyes? Hath this man sed
The truth or not?

Dam.
Would I were but as dead
As all is true!

Mon.
That thou shalt quickly be
If the whole truth thou dost not tell to me.
Why didst thou give unto another what
Was not thine own?

Dam.
Dear Master, ask not that;
For Heav'n's sake do not: too much thou dost know
Already.

Mon.
This makes me more eager grow.
Wilt not speak yet? Still keepst thou me in pain?
Th'art dead if I demand it once again.

Dam.
Because the Oracle foretold me there,
That if the child then found returned e're
To his own home, he should be like to die
By's Father's hand.

Car.
'Tis true, my self was by.

Mon.
Ay me! now all is cleer: This act of mine
The Dream and Oracle did well Divine.

Car.
What wouldst thou more? can ought behind remain?
Is it not plain enough?

Mon.
'Tis but too plain.
I know, and thou hast said too much; I would
I had search'd lesse, or thou lesse understood.
How (O) Carino, have I ta'ne from thee
At once thy Son, and thy Calamitie!
How are thy passions become mine! this is
My Son: O too unhappy Son, of this
Unhappy man! O Son preserv'd and kept
More cruelly, then thou from hence wert swept
By the wild flood, to fall by thy Sires hand,
And stain the Altars of thy native Land!

Car.
Thou Father to Mirtillo? Wondrous! How
Didst lose him?

Mon.
By that horrid flood which thou
Hast mention'd. O deer pledge! thou wert safe then
When thou wert lost: And now I lose thee, when
I finde thee.

Car.
O eternall Providence!
For what deep end have all these Accidents
Lain hid so long, and now break forth together?
Some mighty thing thou hast conceived, either
For good or evill: some unwonted birth
Thou art big with, which must be brought on earth.

Mon.
This was the thing my Dream foretold me; too
Prophetick in the bad, but most untrue
In the good part: This 'twas which made me melt
So strangely; this, that horrour which I felt
Creep through my bones, when I heav'd up my hand,
For Nature's self seem'd to recoil, or stand
Astonished, to see a Father go
To give that horrid and forbidden blow.

Car.
Thou art resolved then not to go on
With this dire Sacrifice?

Mon.
No other man
May do it here.

Car.
Shall the Son then be slain
By his own Sire?

Mon.
'Tis law: and who dare strain
His charity to save another man,
When true Aminta with himself began?

Car.
O my sad Fate! what am I brought to see?

Mon.
Two Fathers over-acted Pietie
Murther their son; Thine to Mirtillo; mine
To Heav'n. Thou by denying he was thine,
Thought'st to preserve him, and hast lost him; I
(Searching with too much curiosity)
Whilst I was to have sacrific'd thy son
(As I suppos'd) find and must slay my own.

Car.
Behold the horrid Monster Fate hath teem'd!
O Cruell! O Mirtillo! more esteem'd
By me then life: Was this it which to me
The Oracle foretold concerning thee?
Thus dost thou make me in my Country blest?
O my deer Son, whilome the hope and rest,
But now the grief and bane of these gray hairs!

Mon.
Prethee Carino lend to me those tears:
I weep for mine own blood. (Ah! why, if I
Must spill it, is it mine?) Poor son! but why
Did I beget thee?—(Why was I got rather?)
The pitying deluge sav'd thee, and thy Father
Will cruelly destroy thee. Holy Pow'rs
Immortall (without some command of yours
Not the least wave stirs in the Sea, breath in
The Air, nor leaf on Earth) what monstrous sin
Hath been by me committed 'gainst your Law,
This heavie Judgement on my head to draw?
Or if I have transgress'd so much; wherein
Sinn'd my Son so, ye will not pardon him?
And thou with one blast of thy Anger kill
Me, thundring Jove? But if thy bolts lie still,
My blade shall not: I will repeat the sad
Example of Aminta, and the Lad
Shall see his Father through his own heart run
His reeking blade, rather then kill his Son.
Dye then Montano; Age should lead the way:
And willingly I do't: Pow'rs (shall I say
Of Heav'n or Hell?) that do with anguish drive
Men to despair; Behold, I do conceive
(Since you will have it so) your fury! I
Desire no greater blessing then to dye.
A kind of dire love to my naturall Gole
Doth lash me on, and hallow to my soul,
To death, To death.

Car.
'Las poor old man! in troth
I pity thee: for though we need it both,
Yet as by day the Starrs forbear to shine,
My grief is nothing, if compar'd with thine.

Scena sexta.

Tirenio, Montano, Carino.
Tir.
Make haste my Son; yet tread secure, that I
May without stumbling trace thee through this wry
And craggy way, with my old feet and blind.
Thou art their eyes, as I am to thy mind.
And when thou comest where the Priest is, there
Arrest thy pace.

Mont.
Hah! whom do I see here?
Is't not our Reverend Tirenio? hee
Whose eyes are seel'd up earthward, but heav'n see?
Some great thing draws him from his sacred Cell,
Whence to behold him is a miracle.

Car.
May the good Gods pleas'd in their bounty be
To make his coming prosperous to thee.

Mont.
Father Tirenio, what miracle
Is this? What mak'st thou from thy holy Cell?
Whom dost thou seek? what news?

Tir.
I come to speak
With thee: and news I bring, and news I seek.

Mont.
But why comes not the holy Order back
With the purg'd offering, and what doth lack
Besides to th'interrupted Sacrifice?

Tir.
“O how much often doth the want of eyes
“Adde to the inward sight! for then the soul
“Not gadding forth, but recollected whole
“Into it self, is wont to recompence
“With the mind's eyes the blindnes of the sense!
“It is not good to passe so slightly over
“Some great events unlookt for which discover
“In humane businesses an hand Divine,
“Which through a cloud of seeming chance doth shine.
“For Heav'n with Earth will not familiar be,
“Nor face to face talk with Mortality.
“But those great wondrous things which us amaze,
“And on blind chance the more blind vulgar layes,
“Are but Heav'ns voice: the deathlesse Gods affect
“To speak to mortals in that Dialect.
“It is their language; mute unto our ears,
“But loud to him whose understanding hears.
(A thousand times most happy is that wight
That hath an understanding pitcht so right).
The good Nicandro (as thou gav'st command)
Was ready now to bring the sacred Band,
Whom I withheld by reason of a change
That fell out in the Temple. Which so strange
Event, comparing with what happen'd here
At the same time to thee, 'twixt hope and fear
I know not how, strook and amaz'd I stand:
Whereof by how much lesse I understand
The cause, so much the more I hope and fear
Some happinesse, or some great danger neer.

Mon.
That which thou understandest not, I do
Too well, and to my sorrow feel it too.
But is there ought in hidden Fate can shun
Thy all divining Spirit?

Tir.
O my Son!
“If the Divine use of prophetick light
“Were arbitrary, it would then be hight
“The gift of Nature, not of Heav'n. I find
(Tis true) within my undigested mind
That there is something hidden in the deep
Bosome of Fate, which she from me doth keep,
And this hath mov'd me to come now to thee
To be inform'd more cleerly who is he
That's found to be the Father of the youth
To dye now; if Nicandro told us truth.

Mon.
Thou knowst him but too well, Tirenio:
How wilt thou wish anon that thou didst know
Or love him lesse?

Tir.
“I praise thee O my Son,
“For taking pity and compassion
“On the afflicted: 'tis humanity.
How-ere let me speak with him.

Mon.
Now I see
Heav'n hath suspended in thee all that skill
In Prophecie, which it was wont t'instill.
That Father whom thou seek'st to speak withall,
Am I.

Tir.
Art thou his Father, that should fall
To Dian now an Immolation?

Mon.
The wretched Father of that wretched Son.

Tir.
Of that same Faithfull Shepherd, who to give
Life to another, would himself not live?

Mon.
Of him who dies his Murthresse life to save,
And Murthers me, who unto him life gave.

Tir.
But is this true?

Mo.
Behold the witnesse.

Car.
That
Which he hath told thee is most true.

Tir.
And what
Art thou that speak'st?

Car.
Carino, thought to be
Till now the young mans Father.

Tir.
Was that he
The Flood took from thee long agoe?

Mon.
Yes, yes,
Tirenio.

Tir.
And dost thou stile for this
Thy self a wretched Father? “O how blind
“Is an unhallow'd and terrestriall mind!
“In what thick mists of errour, how profound
“A night of Ignorance are our souls drown'd,
“Till thou enlighten them, from whom the Sun
“Receives his lustre, as from him the Moon!
Vain men, how can you boast of knowledge so?
“That part of us by which we see and know,
“Is not our vertue, but deriv'd from Heav'n,
“That gives it, and can take what it hath giv'n.
O in thy mind, Montano, blinder far,
Then I am in mine eyes! What Juggler,
What dazeling Divell will not let thee see
That if this noble youth was born of thee,
Thou art the happiest Father and most deer
To the immortall Deities, that e're
Begot Son in the world? Behold the deep
Secret, which Fate did from my knowledge keep!
Behold the happy day, with such a flood
Expected of our tears, and of our blood!
Behold the bessed end of all our pain!
Where art thou man? come to thy self again.
How is it that thou onely dost forget
That famous happy Oracle that's writ
In all Arcadian hearts? How can it be
That with thy deer son's lightning upon thee
This day, thy sense is not prepar'd and cleer
The thunder of that heav'nly voice to hear;
Your Woe shall end when two of Race Divine
Love shall Combine:—
(Tears of delight in such abundance flow
Out of my heart, I cannot speak.) Your Woe—
Your Woe shall end when two of Race Divine
Love shall Combine:
And for a faithlesse Nymph's apostate state
A Faithfull Shepherd supererogate.
Now tell me thou: This Shepherd here of whom
We speak, and that should dye, is he not come
Of Divine Race (Montano) if hee's thine?
And Amarillis too of Race Divine?
Then who I pray but Love hath them combin'd?
Silvio by parents and by force was joyn'd
To Amarillis, and is yet as far
From loving her, as Love and Hatred are.
Then scan the rest, and't will be evident,
The fatall voice none but Mirtillo meant.
For who indeed, since slain Aminta, hath
Express'd such Love as he? such constant Faith?
Who but Mirtillo for his Mistresse wou'd
Since true Aminta, spend his deerest bloud?
This is that work of Supererogation:
This is that faithfull Shepherds expiation
For the Apostate false Lucrina's fact.
By this admir'd and most stupendious Act
More then with humane blood the wrath of heav'n
Is pacifi'ed, and satisfaction giv'n
Unto eternall Justice for th'offence
Committed 'gainst it by a woman. Hence
It was, that he no sooner came to pay
Devotions in the Temple, but streightway
All monstrous omens ceas'd; No longer stood
Th'eternall Image in a sweat of blood,
The earth no longer shook, the holy Cave
No longer stank, and shrikes no longer gave;
But such sweet harmony and redolence
As Heav'n affords (if Heav'n affect the sense).
O Providence eternall! O ye Powers
That look upon us from yon azure Towers!
If all my words were souls, and every soule
Were sacrific'd upon your Altars whole,
It were too poor a Hecatombe to pay
So great a blessing with: but as I may
(Behold!) I tender thanks, and with my knee
Touching the earth in all humilitie
Look up on you that sit inthron'd in heav'n.
How much am I your debtor, that have giv'n
Me leave to live till now! I have run o're
Of my life's race a hundred yeers and more,
Yet never liv'd till now, could never deem
My life worth keeping till this instant time.
Now I begin my life, am born to day.
But why in words do I consume away
That time that should be spent in works? Help Son
To lift me up: Thou art the motion
Of my decayed limbs.

Mon.
Tirenio,
I have a lightnesse in my bosom so
Lock't in, and petrifi'd with wonder, that
I find I'm glad, yet scarcely know at what.
My greedy soule unto her self alone
Keeps all her joy, and lets my sense have none.
O miracle of Heav'n! farre, farre beyond
All we have seen, or e're did understand!
O unexampled Bounty! O the great
Great mercy of the Gods! O fortunate
Arcadia! O earth, of all that e're
The Sun beheld or warm'd, most blest, most deer
To Heav'n! Thy weal's so deer to me, mine own
I cannot feel, nor think upon my Son
(Twice lost and found) nor of my self buoy'd up
Out of the depth of sorrow, to the top
Of blisse, when I consider thee: but all
My private joy, set by the generall,
Is like a little drop in a great stream
Shuffled and lost. O happy dream! (no dream,
But a Celestiall vision.) Now agin
Shall my Arcadia (as thou said'st) be in
A flourishing Estate: But why dost thou
Stay here, Montano? Heav'n expects not now
More humane Sacrifice from us. No more
Th'are times of wrath and vengeance (as before)
But times of grace and love; glad nuptiall bands,
Not horrid Sacrifices at our hands
Our Goddesse now requires.

Tir.
How long to night?

Mon.
An hour, or little more.

Tir.
We burn day-light:
Back to the holy Temple let us go;
There let the daughter of old Titiro
And thy Son interchange their Marriage vow
To become Man and Wife, of Lovers now.
Then let him bring her to his Father's straight,
Where 'tis Heav'ns pleasure, that these fortunate
Descendents of two Gods, should henceforth run
United in one stream.—Lead me back, Son:
And thou Montano, follow me.

Mon.
But stay:
That faith which formerly she gave away
To Silvio, she cannot now withdraw
And give Mirtillo, without breach of Law.

Car.
'Tis Silvio still, Mirtillo was call'd so
At first (thy man told me) and Silvio
By mee chang'd to Mirtillo, to which hee
Consented.

Mon.
True: (now I remember me)
And the same name I gave unto the other,
To keep alive the memory of's Brother.

Tir.
'Twas an important doubt. Follow me now.

Mon.
Carino, to the temple too come thou.
Henceforth Mirtillo shall two Fathers own:
Thou hast a Brother found, and I a Son.

Car.
To thee a Brother in his love, a Father
To him, a Servant (in respect) to either
Carino will be alwayes: And since I
Find thee to me so full of courtesie,
I will the boldnesse take to recommend
Unto thy love my second self, my friend.

Mon.
Share me between you.

Car.
O eternall Gods,
“Between our pray'rs slow-winding paths, what odds
“There is (by which we climb to Heav'n) and those
“Directer lines by which to us Heav'n bowes!

Scena septima.

Corisca, Linco.
Cor.
So it seems, Linco, that coy Silvio
When least expected, did a Lover grow.
But what became of her?

Lin.
We carry'd her
To Silvio's dwelling, where with many a tear
(Whether of joy or grief, I cannot tell)
His Mother welcom'd her. It pleas'd her well
To see her Son now marryed, and a Lover;
But for the Nymph great grief she did discover.
Poor Mother-in-law! ill sped, though doubly sped:
One Daughter-in-law being hurt, the other dead.

Cor.
Is Amarillis dead?

Lin.
'Tis rumour'd so:
That's now the cause I to the temple go,
To comfort old Montano with this newes,
One Daughter-in-law he gains, if one he lose.

Cor.
Is not Dorinda dead then?

Lin.
Dead? would thou
Wert half so live and jocund as Shee's now!

Cor.
Was't not a mortal wound?

Li.
Had she been slain,
With Silvio's pity she had liv'd again.

Cor.
What Art so soon could cure her?

Lin.
I will tell
Thee all the cure. Listen t'a miracle.
With trembling hearts, and hands prepar'd to aid,
Women and men stood round the wounded Maid;
But she would suffer none to touch her save
Her Silvio; for the same hand which gave,
She said, should cure the wound. So all withdrew
Except my self, he, and his Mother: two
T'advise, the third to act. Then Silvio
Removing first from her blood-dapled snow
Gently the cleaving garments, strove to pluck
The arrow out, which in her deep wound stuck.
But the false wood (forth coming) gave the slip
To th'iron head, and left it in her Hip.
Here, here the lamentable cryes began:
It was not possible by hand of man,
Or iron instrument, or ought beside
To get it out. Perchance t'ave open'd wide
The wound b'a greater wound, and so have made
One iron dive after another, had
Effected the great cure. But Silvio's hand,
Too pitifull, too much with Love unmann'd
The Surgeon was, so cruelly to heal.
Love searches not with instruments of steel
The wounds he makes. As for the love-sick Maid,
In Silvio's hands her wounds grew sweet, she said.
And Silvio said (not yet discouraged)
Thou shalt out too, thou shalt, curst Arrow-head,
And with lesse pain then is believ'd: the same
Who thrust thee in, can pull thee out again.
By using hunting I have learn'd to cure
This mischief which my hunting did procure.
A plant there is much us'd by the wild Goat
When there's a shaft into her body shot:
She shew'd it us, and Nature shew'd it her:
(Remembred happily!) nor is it far
From hence. Streight went he to the neighb'ring hill,
And there a flasket with this Plant did fill;
Then came again to us: thence squeesing out
The juice, and mingling it with Centry root
And Plantain leafe, thereof a pultise made.
O wonderfull! as soon as that was laid
Upon the sore, the blood was stanched streight,
And the pain ceased; and soon after that,
The iron coming without pain away,
Did the first summons of the hand obey:
The Maid was now as vigorous and sound,
As if she never had receiv'd the wound.
Nor mortall was't; for th'arrow having flown
(As hapt) betwixt the muscles and the bone,
Pierc'd but the fleshy part.

Cor.
Thou hast displaid
Much vertue in a plant, more in a Maid.

Lin.
What afterwards between 'em happened
May better be imagined then sed:
This I am sure, Dorinda's well again,
And now can stir her body without pain:
Though thou believ'st, Corisca, I suppose
H'ath giv'n her since more wounds then that: but those,
As they are made b'a diffrent weapon, so
Themselves are of a diffrent nature too.
And such a trick this cruell Archer has,
Of hitting all he shoots at since he was
A Huntsman; that to shew hee's still the same,
Now hee's a Lover too, he hits the Game.

Cor.
Old Linco still!

Lin.
Faith, my Corisca, still
If not in strength, I'm Linco in my will.
Nor yet, though my leafe's witherd, am I dead:
But all my sap into the root is fled.

Cor.
My Rivall thus dispatch'd, I'le now go see
If I can get my deer Mirtillo free.

Scena octava.

Ergato, Corisca.
Erg.
O day with wonders fraught! O day of mirth!
All Love! and blessings all! O happy earth!
O bounteous heav'n!

Cor.
But see! Ergasto's here:
How opportunely doth he now appear!

Erg.
At such a time let every living thing,
Heav'n, Earth, Air, Fire, the whole world laugh and sing.
To hell it self let our full joyes extend,
And there the torments of the damn'd suspend.

Cor.
What rapture's this!

Er.
Blest woods! whose murmuring voyce
When we lamented did lament, rejoyce
At our joyes too, and wag as many tongues
As you have leaves now dancing to the songs
Of the pleas'd Birds, and musick of the Air
Which rings with our delight. Sing of a pair
Of noble Lovers the felicitie
Unparalell'd.

Cor.
He doth speak certainly
Of Silvio and Dorinda? Every thing
I see, would live. “How soon the shallow spring
“Of tears dryes up with us! but the swoln river
“Of gladnesse tarries with the longer liver.
Of Amarillis, who is dead, there's now
No more discourse: the onely care is how
“To laugh with them that laugh; and tis well done:
“Each man hath too much sorrow of his own.
Whither (so glad) Ergasto dost thou go?
Unto a Wedding happily?

Erg.
I do
Indeed. Hast heard Corisca then, the wonder
O'th'two blest Lovers? was't not strange?

Cor.
I under-
Stood it of Linco now with joy of heart,
Which my great grief doth mitigate in part
For the sad death of Amarillis.

Erg.
How!
Whom dost thou speak of, or speak I thinkst thou?

Cor.
Why, of Dorinda, and of Silvio.

Erg.
What Silvio? what Dorinda? Dost not know
Then what hath past? My joy its linage drawes
From a more high, stupendious, noble Cause.
Of Amarillis and Mirtillo I
Discourse (the happiest Pair that this day frye
Under the torrid Zone of Love).

Cor.
Is not
Then Amarillis dead, Ergasto?

Erg.
What
Death? She's alive, glad, beauteous, and a Wife.

Cor.
Thou mock'st me Shepherd.

Er.
No, upon my life.

Cor.
Was she not then condemn'd?

Er.
She was, 'tis true:
But presently she was acquitted too.

Cor.
Do I dream this? or dost thou dreams relate?

Erg.
Stay here a little, thou shalt see her straight
Come with her faithfull and most fortunate
Mirtillo, from the temple (where they're now,
And interchanged have their Nuptiall vow)
Towards Montano's: of the bitter root
Of their long Loves to gather the sweet fruit.
O hadst thou seen mens joyes spring in their eyes!
If thou hadst heard the musick of their cryes!
The temple's still as full as it can hold
Of numbers numberlesse: Men, women, old,
Young, Prelates, Laymen, are confounded there
Together, and distracted cannot bear
Their joy. With wonder every one doth run
To see the happy couple, every one
Adores them, every one embraces them.
Their pity one extols, another's theme
Their constant faith is, or those graces giv'n
To them by Nature, or infus'd from Heav'n.
The laund, the dale, the mountain, and the plain
Resound the faithfull Shepherd's glorious name,
O happy, happy Lover, to become
From a poor Swain, almost a God so soon;
From death to life (whilst I speak this) to passe,
And change a winding-sheet (which ready was)
For a remote despair'd-of Nuptiall,
Though it be much, Corisca, is not all.
But to enjoy her, whom he seem'd t'injoy
In dying for her, her who would destroy
Her selfe, not to excuse, but share his Fate,
(His Mate in life, and not in death his Mate!)
This is such joy, such ravishing joy is this
As doth exceed all we can fancie Blisse.
And dost not thou rejoyce? and apprehend
A joy for Amarillis, that's thy Friend
As great as that which I doe for my true
Mirtillo?

Cor.
Yes, dost thou not see I doe?

Erg.
O! if thou hadst present been
Amarillis to have seen,
As the pledge of Faith when she
Gave her hand to him, and he
As the pledge of Love did either
Give or receive (I know not whether)
A sweet inestimable kisse,
Surely thou hadst dy'd of blisse.
There was Scarlet, there were Roses,
All the colours, all the posies
Art or Nature ere did mix
Were excell'd by her pure cheeks,
Cover'd with a waving shield
By her blushing Beauty held,
Stain'd with blood, which did provoke
From the striker a new stroke.
And shee coy and nice in show,
Seem'd to shun, that shee might so
With more pleasure meet the blow,
Leaving it in doubt, if that
Kisses were ravish'd, or not.
With such admirable Art,
'Twas in part bestow'd, in part
Snatch'd from her: And that disdain
Which she did so sweetly fain,
Was a willing No; an Act
Mixt of Conquest and Compact.
Such a coming in her flying
As shew'd yeelding in denying.
Such sweet anger at th'abuse
In forcing her, as forc'd him use
That force again; such art to crave
The thing she would not, yet would have,
As drew him the faster on
To snatch that which would be gone.
O heav'nly kisse! Corisca, I
Can no longer hold; God bu'y.
“I'le marry too, The Powr's above
“Give no true joy to men, but Love.

Cor.
If he (Corisca) have told truth, this day
Quite cures thy wits, or takes them quite away.

Scena nona.

Chorus of Shepherds, Corisca, Amarillis, Mirtillo.
Cho.
Holy Hymen hear our pray'r
And our Song! The Earth hath not
A more happy loving pair:
Both of them Divinely got;
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destin'd knot.

Cor.
Ay me! Ergasto told me true (I see)
This is the fruits (wretch) of thy vanitie.
O thoughts! O wishes! as unjust, as vain
And fond. Would I an innocent have slain
To compasse my unbridled will! So blind,
So cruell was I? Who doth now unbind
Mine eyes? Ah wretch! what do I see? my sin
With the mask off just as 'tis here within.

Cho.
Holy Hymen hear our pray'r
And our song! The Earth hath not
A more happy loving Pair:
Both of them diuinely got:
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destin'd knot.

See (thou Faithfull Shepherd) where
After many a briny tear,
After many a stormy blast,
Thou art landed now at last!
Is not this (behold her!) shee
Heav'n and Earth deny'd to thee?
And thy cruell Destinie?
And her Icie Chastitie?
And thy degree so far beneath?
And her Contract? and thy Death?
Yet Mirtillo (loe!) shee's thine.
That sweet face, those eyes divine,
Brest and hands, and all that thou
See'st and hear'st, and touchest now,
And so often hast in vain
Sigh'd for, now thou dost obtain,
As thy constant Love's reward:
Yet thy lips hath silence barr'd?

Mir.
'Cannot speak: I do not know
Whether I'm alive or no.
Or if these things reall be
Which I seem to hear and see.
Sweetest Amarillis mine,
(For my soul is lodg'd in thine)
I from thee would gladly know,
(Tell me Love) are these things so?

Cho.
Holy Hymen hear our pray'r
And our song! The Earth hath not
A more happy loving Pair:
Both of them diuinely got:
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destin'd knot.

Cor.
But why do you, you still about me stay,
Arts to deceive the world, arts to betray?
(The body's robes, but the souls rags.) For one,
I'm sure shee's cousen'd by you, and undone.
Pack hence: and as from worms ye had your birth,
Return to worms, and strew your grandame earth.
Once ye were weapons of lascivious Love:
But now the trophies of fair Vertue prove.

Cho.
Holy Hymen hear our pray'r
And our Song! The Earth hath not
A more happy loving pair:
Both of them Divinely got;
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destin'd knot.

Cor.
What stick'st thou at Corisca? 'tis a day
Of Pardons this: then ask without dismay.
What dost thou dread? no punishment what-ere
Can fall so heavie, as thy fault lies here.
Fair, and happy pair (the Love
Of us here, and those above)
If all earthly Pow'r this day
To your conquering Fates give way,
Let her likewise Homage doe
To your conquering Fates, and you,
Who all earthly Pow'r imploy'd
To have made their Ord'nance voyd.
Amarillis (true it is)
He had mine, who had thy heart:
But thou onely hast gain'd his,
'Cause thou onely worthy art.
Thou enjoy'st the loyall'st Lad
Living; and Mirtillo thou
The best Nymph the world ere had
From the birth of Time till now:
I the touch-stone was to both,
Try'd her chastitie, his troth.
But thou (Courteous Nymph) before
Thou on me thy anger powre,
Look but on thy Bridegrooms Face:
Something thou wilt spy therein
That will force thee to shew grace,
As it forced mee to sin.
For so sweet a Lovers sake
Upon love no vengeance take;
But since thou the flames dost prove,
Pardon thou the fault of Love.

Am.
I do not onely pardon, but respect
Thee as my friend, regarding the effect,
And not the cause. “For poysons if they make
“Us well, the name of soveraign Med'cines take;
“And painfull lancings for that cause are dear:
So whether friend or foe, or whatso e're
Thou wert to me in purpose and intent;
Yet my Fate us'd thee as her instrument
To work my blisse, and that's enough: for me
'Twas a good Treason, a blest Fallacy
I'm sure. And if thou please to grace our Feast,
And to rejoyce with us, thou art my guest.

Cor.
Thy pardon is to me a better feast:
A greater joy, my conscience now at rest.

Mir.
And I all faults 'gainst me can pardon wel,
But this long stop.

Cor.
Joys on you both! Farewell.

Cho.
Holy Hymen hear our pray'r
And our Song! The Earth hath not
A more happy loving Pair:
Both of them divinely got:
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destin'd knot.

Scena decima.

Mirtillo, Amarillis. Chorus of Shepherds.
Mir.
Am I so wedded then to grief and anguish,
That in the midst of joy too I must languish?
Was not this tedious pomp enough delay,
But I must meet too my old Remora
Corisca?

Am.
Thou art wondrous hasty.

Mir.
O
My treasure! yet I am not sure; but go
In fear of robbing still, till as my Spouse
I doe possesse thee in my Fathers house.
To tell thee true, me thinks I fare like one
Who dreams of wealth, and ever and anon
Fears that his golden sleep will break, and he
Be wak'd a beggar. I would gladly be
Resolv'd by some more pregnant proof, that this
Sweet waking now is not a dream of blisse.

Cho.
Holy Hymen hear our pray'r
And our Song! The earth hath not
A more happy loving pair:
Both of them divinely got:
Pull holy Hymen, pull the destin'd knot.

Chorus.
O happy couple! that hath sown in Tears
And reaps in Comfort! What a foil your fears
Prove to your joyes! Blind Mortals, learn from hence,
Learn (yee effeminate) the difference
Betwixt true goods and false. All is not joy
That tickles us: Nor is all that annoy
That goes down bitter. “True joy is a thing
“That springs from Vertue after suffering.