University of Virginia Library

Act. 4.

Scæne 1.

Enter King of Thessaly, and his daughter Euriphila.
Kin.
Daughter, it is enough, we will it, see
You shew your dutie in obeying us;
Since I have made choise of him for my Son,
Accept him for your husband: He's a man
Ancient in virtues, although young in yeares:
He's one whose worth is far beyond his age.

Eur.
Father, it grieves me that the cross Fates have
Forc'd me to hate the man you so much love:
Cupid hath struck me with his leaden dart,
I cannot force my own affections.

Kin.
How's this? you hate him whom I love! can he
Be th'object of your hate, who is alone
The subject of my love and reverence?
He whom the gods in mercie have design'd
The happy Successor unto my crown,
And to your love? Bethink your self again.

Eur.
Great Sir, the gods themselves are subject to
That little deitie of love, can I
Withstand his power, or love against his will?
Force cannot work on love, which must be free,
And uncompell'd, else can it not be true,
Nor lasting. Sir, urge me no more in vain.

Kin.
What a strange change is here! Your will was wont
Freely to stoop to all my just desires;
Is it now grown so stiff, 'twill not be bent
By my commands? I know thou dost but feign.

Eur.
I would obey your will, could I command
Mine own affections, or chuse my love.

Kin,
Do it, or else by Jove, whom I present,
I'll punish thy neglect.—I cannot think
Thy words and thoughts agree. Surely to love,
Is natural, why then not to love him,
Whom nature made to be belov'd? He hath
Artillery enough about him to take in
The stoutest heart at the first summons.—Well,
Think on't Euriphila, when I am gone,
I'll leave thee here, Lovers are best alone.

Exit.

Scæn. 2.

Eur.
How rarely have I play'd this part, & hid
My love under a mask of hate!—but now,
Me thinks, I feel the fire of love to rage
More fiercely in my breast; for being kept
So close, it will break out too soon: I must
Invert the course of love, and woo him first.
Enter Plusidippus.
He comes, and fitly: Cupid, instruct me now,
To war and conquer in this bloodless fight,
That wins the field by flight, and not by force.
Yet must I veil my love still, and seem coy,
Till by a false retreat I make him fall
Into those snares I set, and wish him in.—
What means this bold intrusion? do'st befit
You to intrude into my privacies?

Plu.
Lady, the fault's not mine, fortune hath led
Me to this place: mine ignorance (I hope)
Will plead mine innocence. As I have found
Your Royal Fathers noble favours far
Exceed my hopes, or my requital, let
Not your frownes strike dead whom he hath rais'd
To life; crueltie cannot lodge within
That tender breast was onely made for Love.

Eur.
Dare you presume to talk of love to me?
Am I a mate, fit for your choice? Be gone,
And seek some shrub may fit your lowness best.

Plu.
Madam, this storm becomes you not. It is
Degenerate from your noble Fathers strain.
I cannot think this should proceed from one,
That is the Heir to his name and worth.

Eur.
My fathers ears shall ring with this, that he
Hath warm'd a viper, which would bite him now,
And entertain'd a guest would rob his host.

Plu.
Lady, my spirit tels me that my birth
Is not so base as you conceit. I mean
To try my spirit, and my fortunes in
Mars his Camp, but not in Venus Courts.
Since nature's so unkind, as not to let
Me know what honour I was born unto,
I'll win some to my name, by actions, which
Shal speak me noble; I had thought t'have made
You the fair goddess at whose shrine I meant
T'have offer'd up, and sacrific'd my self,
And all my services; but cause you prove
So rough, I will not harbour here, but seek
The world through, for an altar worthy of
My labours. So, fair proud, farewel.

Exit.
Eur.
Art gone! I did not well to tempt a part
I knew not how to act, to hide a flame
I could not well conceal: for hereby have
I drove him quite away.—Euriphila,
Thou wer't too blame.—Well, I will after him,
And try if I can fetter him with gifts,
Whom love cannot entangle: Mars is his god,
Not Venus; once more will I try, and shew
Him plainly how I love him: Juno help,
And thou, O little deitie of Love.
Besiege the castle of his stubborn breast,
Bend all thy batteries unto his heart,
Make it the mark of all thy golden darts.
Let him no more resist, but know thy power,
That Mars with all his armour, nor his forts,
Castles, or coats of mail, can fence him from
Thy little piercing shafts, which wound unseen.
And I will try what work a womans arts
Can make against these stubborn warriors hearts.

Exit.

Scæn. 3.

Enter Samela.
I have but one heart to bestow, and that
Must not be Menaphon's; mine eyes do fix
On Melecertus, the best counterfeit
Of my lost Maximus: I cannot yet
Think on that name, but it doth seem to chide
My hasty choise, and drown my love in tears.

She weeps.
Enter Menaphon.
Men.
What mean these sudden passions, Samela?
Hast thou not here all thou canst wish? what dost
Thou want can make one happy, but content?

Sam.
'Tis true, I nothing want, that a poor wretch
Can wish for; but this happiness doth mind
Me of my fore-past happiness that's lost.
Is't possible the vein of true love can
Be broken, and the wound not bleed afresh
At every thought! Alas! my heart's so full
Of tears and grief, that some will over-flow.

Men.
Had thy tears power to raise the dead again,
Then were they lawful and commendables
But since that tears are fruitless, and your friends
(Like water spilt) now past recoverie,
It is but folly to weep for the dead.
Pursue no more fled joyes, turn and receive
Those comming pleasures which do court your hand
To take them. If thou wilt listen to my love—

Sam.
I like my grief much better than thy love.

Men.
Why so nice and coy fair Lady
Prethee why so coy?
If you deny your hand and lip
Can I your heart enjoy?
Prethee why so coy?
For thy flitting joyes are past,
I will give thee joyes at last.
Joyes that shall create each other,
Make thee both a wife and mother.

Sam.
Y're merry, Menaphon, but I can't joyn
In consort with you. Seek some other mate;
I have no heart to give, nor hand to take
Your gift. Another reaps what you have sown,
And like t'enjoy what you have hop'd in vain.

Men.
Another reap what I have sown! Is this
Your gratitude you so much boasted of?
Have I supplied your wants with plenty, and
With scorn do you repay my charitie?
Did I relieve you in distress for this?—
By Pan, the god of shepherds, or return
Love for my love, or be turn'd out of doors.

Sa.
My heart ne're knew what baseness meant,
Of thankful thoughts for your civilities; (it's full
If those will satisfie, I'll employ all
Th'exchequer of my breast; but as for love,
Alas! that is not in my power to give.

Men.
I saw your loose eyes at the shepherds feast,
Rov'd every where, but Melecertus was
The mark they aym'd at most. Well, get you gone,
Expect no more from me, but slight and scorn.

Exit.
Sam.
My grief was ominous, and did presage
This sad mishap; was I not cross'd enough
Before? when will my suff'rings have an end!
Well, I'll go seek my Uncle Lamedon,
The comfort and companion of my woes.

Exit.

Scæn. 4.

Enter Euriphila.
Love bids me go, but reason bids me stay;
Reason! thou hast no share in love; I'll on.
Love is a passion, passions know no lawes,
The gods themselves cannot be wise and love.
Enter Plusidippus passing by.
Friend Plusidippus, hark, who would have thought
You so faint-hearted, that a maidens frowns,
Could turn the edge of your affections?

Plu.
No, madam, but your scorn hath whet the edge
Of my resolves, to seek some other clime
May prove more temperate: Arcadia is
The place I aym at, where, I'm told, there dwels
A Lady of that beautie, that the world
Can't shew her second; thither am I bound.

Eur.
You do but jest, I hope, I'm sure I did
No other; for I love thee with my heart,
Offers him gifts.
And may these signs confirm it that I do.

Plu.
I must not dwell at these signs, well I may
Bait for a while, but cannot make a stay.
Arcadia is the place I visit must,
That is the center whereunto I rend,
And where my labours hope to find an end.

Eur.
What, must a Lady wooe you to accept
Her favours? Come, what need hast thou to seek
Offers him her gifts again.
Dangers, and love abroad, who hast at home
The onely daughter of a King, who courts
Thee for thy love? what mean those silent looks?
Hear me, my Plusidippus: what, still mute?

Plu.
Th'attractive of that beautie I have seen
But in a picture will not let me rest,
Until I see that creature so divine,
Arcadia is blest withal, to be
The happy casket of so rich a jewel.

Eur.
By all the love thou ow'st my fathers care,
I do adjure thee to stay here with me,
And in mine arms I'll lodge thee until time
Shall make thee King of Thessaly; mean-while
Let me be happy in th'enjoyment of
Thy companie, and seek not toils and care,
When thou mayst live more happy here, than thou
Canst wish or find in any other place.

Plu.
My Genius prompts me, that I must not rest
Here, for the gods do seem to call me hence,
And their decrees I may not break, nor will.

Exit.
Eur.
This scorn tormenth me, yet can I not
Repay his hate with hate; but I do love
Him more. Love, this is tyrannie in thee.
Enter Agenor King.
Here comes my Father, may his newes be good.

Kin.
Now forward girle, did I for this provide
An husband for you? do you thus reward
My love to you, to slight him whom I love?
Your scornes will force him from our Court to flie.
And now I hear, he'l to Arcadia.

Eur.
Believe it, Sir, 'tis far from me to wish,
Or be the cause of his departure hence.

Kin.
Yes, yes, your peevishness I hear's the cause,
Nay, I my self have heard, with shame to think
You so much scorn'd a man, I so much lov'd.
Did I grace him, that you should disgrace him?

Eur.
Great Sir, the greatest loss is mine; & none
Can tell with what an heavy heart I shall
Be forc'd to part with him. And therefore, if
You please to use your power to stay him here,
You may so be my father the second
Time, by preserving the life you gave me,
Which, without his presence, is nothing worth.
As you tender the life of a daughter,
Or the welfare of a maid, endeavour
His stay, or I shall follow him to death.—

Kin.
I'll find him out and try what power I have
Upon him: I suppose my kindnesses
To him, may well deserve his acceptance,
They have not been such as should wearie him,
Nor is a Crown a thing to be slighted,
Nor easily obteined; yet his stay
May purchase mine, and 'tis an easie rate.

Exeunt.

Scæn. 5.

Enter Lamedon, Samela.
Lam.
What, Neece, still weeping? cannot curing time
Invent a plaister for thy wounds, but that
They still thus bleed afresh? what is the cause?

Sam.
Dearest Uncle! who hitherto have been
The onely Partner and Physician
Of all my griefs; unless your skill can fit
A cure unto my present cares, I must
Yeild to their strength, for with continued
Batteries they so assault me now, that
I must be forc'd to sink under their weight.

Lam.
Why, what new cross hath hapned unto thee?
That thus renews thy grief? Come, tell it me;
And doubt not of my readiness to trie
All means for thy relief; but first 'tis fit
I know the cause, the first step to the cure.
Unbosome then thy grief, and give it vent;
Is Menaphon as kind as he was wont?

Sam.
That name it is that is my sorrows spring
From whence these tears do flow, 'tis he alone—
Unkind and false, base-minded Menaphon.—

Lam.
Out with it all, and tell me how he hath
Abused thee, and I will try to right
Thee, and requite him for his injuries.

Sam.
When as he saw I would not satisfie
His foolish fancie, for which cause alone
He hitherto hath entertained us,
And not for to relieve our wants; he sees
His hopes are frustrated, and I despise
His clownish love, he turn'd me out of's doors:
Where shall we lie? we are expos'd unto
The mercie of the kinder elements;
The heavens must be our canopie, and th'earth
Our bed, the poor flocks our companions.

Lam.
Well, fear not, Samela, already I
Have found a way to ease thy mind; I have
A little money left, and there withal
Soon shall I purchase a small flock for thee:
Where thou shalt live secure, and free from fear,
Enjoy thy little with content; there is
A shepherd lately dead, whose flock I'll buy,
And thou shalt be it's Mistris, Samela.

Sam.
Uncle, my thanks shall ever ready be
For you, as always is your care for me.
But let your haste prevent my comming griefs,
For griefs have wings, wherewith they flie to us,
Comforts are leaden-heel'd, and move but slow.

Lam.
Fear not, I will dispatch it suddenly,
The shepherd Doron's brother's lately dead.
And he hath the disposal of the flock,
As soon as I can find him, we will try
If reasonable price will make them ours,
Enter Doron.
See where he comes preventing me; Doron,
The merry shepherd! whither away so fast?

Dor.
I'm running for my life, Sir, my brother's
Lately dead, and I'm afraid death will catch
Me too, if I don't make haste. I'm sure
Carmela has half cut the thred of my
Life in twain, with the hook of her crueltie;
Besides, Moron's sheep are roving to find
Their master, and they'l go till they lose
Themselves, if I find them not the sooner.

Lam.
Moron! what was he a kin to a fool?

Dor.
Why he was my own brother, Sir.

Lam.
I thought so.

Dor.
I must be gone.

Lam.
Nay, stay Doron, what wilt thou take, and we
Will ease thee of the trouble of thy sheep.

Dor.
By my troth Sir, and you shall have them, but
What will you give me, and you shall have
His flock,—ay and me too, if you will, for
I think Carmela won't.

Gives him gold.
Lam.
Will these content thee for thy sheep?

Dor.
Ay marry, this is something lik—you
Shall have them Sir, were there as many
Of them as there are hairs on their
Backs.—They talk of a golden fleece,
But I think I have made their fleeces
Gold now. Come Sir, I'll deliver you the sheep.

Exeunt.

Scæn. 6.

Enter Menaphon.
Forlorn, forsaken, and the object made
Of all the shepherds storms! what shall I do?
Love is no god, Fortune is blind, and can
Not help; sleep flies, and cares possess my head.
Mirth makes me melancholy, company
Yields me no comfort: when I am alone,
A thousand fancies do distract my thoughts:
And when I try to drown my cares in wine,
They swim aloft, and will be uppermost.
I'll try if I can sing my cares asleep.

Enter Pesana.
Pes.
Now will I take time by the fore-lock, and
Creep into Menaphon's breast, through the cracks
His minion Samela has made in it.
Aside.
Friend Menaphon, what is your courage cool'd?

Men.
Cold entertainment hath my courage cool'd.

Pes.
You know where you might have been let in, long
E're this, without assault or batterie.
But you'r serv'd in your kind, for being coy:
Now you have met with your mate (friend) I hope.

Men.
She set my heart on fire by her presence,
That will not be put out by her absence.

Pes.
Then I see you mean to follow her with
Your suit and service still, for all her scorn.

Men.
No, she hath wounded me too deep, to make
Pursuit after her, therefore let her go.

Pes.
Now then you know what 'tis to be slighted;
So once you slighted me, now I'll slight you.

Exit.
Men.
Ah cruel love! whose musick is compos'd
Of Lovers jars an discords, mixt with sighs!
If I turn traytor once more unto love,
I'll rob him of his deitie, and pull
His little Kingdom down; I'll pull his wings,
And with the quils made into pens, and dipt
In saddest lovers tears, in stead of ink,
I'll Satyres write against his tyrannie.

Exit.

Scæn. 7.

Enter King Agenor, Plusidippus, and Euriphila.
Kin.
Why then, my Plusidippus, will you leave
Us, and your fortunes? It is my resolve
To make you heir to my crown, my Son
And Successor.

Plu.
Great Sir, I would not be
Fondly injurious to my self, or you,
Or so prophane unto the gods, to slight
Their and your gifts, when proffer'd me so fair:
I must obey their dictates, and my vowes,
Which call me to Arcadia, till when,
I cannot rest. Give me your Royal leave
To go, I will engage my hopes, and all
My future happinesses, to return
In so short a time as you shall limit me.

Kin.
Then daughter, since it must be so, I can
Not tell how to denie his just request:
But see you part with him in friendship. And
The like Sir, I require of you to her.

Exit.
Plu.
Far be it from me to denie so fair
Requests. Lady, in signe hereof, I take
This parting kiss, and may it cancel all
Miscarriages; and seal Loves covenants.
And thus I take my leave but for a while.

Eur.
Then take thee this my dearest heart, and bear
It with thee; may it be a charm to keep
Thy chaste affections from a Strangers love:
May your return shorten my tedious hours,
Since I neglect mine own content for yours.

Exeunt.

Scæn. 8.

Enter 2 Lords.
1 Lo.
It seems our Kink hath pretty well outgrown
His griefs; and now he meditates new Loves.

2 Lo.
The fire of love hath thaw'd his frozen breast,
And turn'd his cold December into May:
His Scepter's chang'd into a sheep-hook, He
Is gone on pilgrimage to seek a wife
Amongst the shepherdesses; there is one
Whom I have seen, and he is gone to see,
May vie with Juno for precedencie:
Who in the habit of a Country lass,
Carries a Prince-like countenance and grace.
In th'Arcadian Plains she keeps a flock
Of sheep, whose innocence and whiteness she
Surpasseth, whilst the shepherds daily strive
VVho shall bid fairest for this fairer prize.

1 Lo.
And he'l out-bid them all, if that will do.
But what a motley mixture will it be,
To see his grey hairs joyned with her green
And springing youth? The strange effects of love!
VVell may she be his nurse, but not his wife.
VVhat's love in young, is dotage in old men.

2 Lo.
Love can create an Autumn Spring, infuse
New spirits in the old, and make them young
Besides, Honour's a bait frail women know
Not to resist: who would not be a Queen?

Exeunt.

Scæn. 9.

Enter Samela.
Once more doth Fortune flatter me, with hopes
Of a contented life: now am I free
From jealous Menaphon's suspitions,
And without fear enjoy my wished love.
Enter Melecertus.
See where he comes, the picture drawn to th'life
Of my dead Maximus, my former joy.

Mel.
All hail unto the fairest Samela,
And to her happy flock: I envie them
She is their Mistris, I her servant am.
Long since my heart was hers, may she but please
To take that kindly, which I freely give.

Sam.
But, Melecertus, can I hope to find
You real unto me, whose worth I know
Cannot but be engag'd already to
Some more deserving creature than poor I.

Mel.
Lady, my services were never due
To any, but to one, which bond harsh death
Hath cancelled to make me yours alone.

Sam.
You call death harsh for freeing you from them,
And would you be in the like bonds again?

Mel.
Your heavenly likeness doth compel me to't
You are the same, but in another dress.
Let me no longer therefore strive to win
That fort, I so much covet to be in.

Sam.
Then Melecertus take thy Samela.

Mel.
Oh happy word! oh happy fate! the gods
If they would change with me, should give me odds.