University of Virginia Library

Actus 2.

Scena 1.

Argalus, Kalander, Philarchus.
You are too strangely timorous, your full worth.
Speakes in as loud an accent of Desert,
As the most meriting Arcadian Lord,
Who boasts his Ancestry.

Arga.
My Lord,
The faire Parthenia instructs all hearts.
Nobility, with Musick of her voyce;
Miriads of joyes are in her looks; her eyes
Are Natures richest Diamonds set in foyles
Of polish'd Ebony, her breath expires
Odours more sweet than issu'd from the trees.
Of Balme in Paradise.

Philar.
Demagoras
Drunk with opinion of himselfe, declines
As much her glorious merit, as your just
Expressions honors it.

Arga.
'T were sacriledge
Not to confesse so manifest a truth,
'T was shee when first I did salute the War
With my unable person; who inspir'd
My soule with courage active as the wind,
Gave me a manly being, and infus'd
By the divine reflection of her love,
Thoughts fiery as that passion: I do live
Only her creature. Borrow my poore heat
From the extended vertue of her flame.

Kalan.
You are too modest,
T'a cribe a greater glory to my niece,
Then the whole stock of women ever boasted;
You'l make her proud my Lord, 'tis an excesse
Of naturall sweetnesse in you; you must temper
With a more moderate confidence.

Arga.
Alas my Lord,
Of more sincere devotion; every thought
My fancy offers, is a sacrifice
To the bright deity of Parthenia,
Whose noble freenesse, though it may afford
Me entertainment, more repleat with grace,
Than she bestowes on every Suitor, yet
My timorous hopes dare not assume that life,
As to beleeve she loves me; pray my Lord,
You are familiar with Parthenias thoughts
Resolve your friends this questionable doubt;
Whom her affectionat purity has chosen
Her loves blest favorite.

Phi.
My Lord, you know him,
He's your most intimat friend.

Arga.
My friend,
Were he my utmost enemy and belov'd,
Offaire Parthenia: that should be a tie
Of adoration to me, pray declare
The man must be made fortunate with the title
Of Lord of such perfection.

Phil.
He is
A noble generous and well manur'd youth
Beares beauties ensignes in his gracious looks.
Has that supreme Divinity in his eyes
As sparkles flames, able to fire all hearts,
And the superlative vertue of his Mind,
Transcends his outward figure; he is wise
As most mature age, Valiant in resolve,
As fames belov'd Child reputation,
Conjoine the masculine graces of his soule,
With lovely carriage, and discret discourse
Has not your knowledge reach'd him yet?

Arga.
This character
So far excelling me undoes my hopes.

Phi.
My Lord were not to
Secure your peace, I'de not disclose this secret, 'tis your selfe,
'Tis Argalus Parthenia has receiv'd
A welcome guest into her open heart,
Amase not your quick senses, 'tis a truth.

Kalan.
Your mutuall modesties
Defer your just desires, I must become
The moderator 'twixt your bashfull hopes
You do affect, as timorously as Swans,
(Cold as the brook they swim in) who do bill,
With tardy modesty, and chirring plead
Their constant resolutions.

Enter Chrisaclea.
Chris.
Noble Argalus,
My honor'd brother, pray heaven out entertainment,
Be worthy your acceptance, you must not expect
That happy welcome, here your house affords
To such deserving guests. My Lord Philarchus,
Saw you the Lord Demagoras lately.

Phi.
Madam,
Not since he flung last night hence in a rage
From the presentment by the Shepherds.

Kal.
Demagoras
Is of so haughty a disposition
(Though noble otherwise) that I can wish
No alliance with him: sister, I doe feare,
You are too zealous to advance the match
'Twixt him and your Parthenia: her's a Lord
As great by birth, and greater by the favour
Done him by th'King, but greatest by his owne
Superlative goodnesse, does affect her with
So true a fancie, that you much would wrong
Humanity to dispose her to another,
Where such a meriting Suiter does pretend
A holy interest in her.

Chri.
Good brother doe not
Question my honour so much, I am loath
To give the least occasion of distaste
To my Lord Demagoras, and since my daughter
Cannot affect him, I conceive he will
Cease his unnecessary suit, and leave her
To her owne disposure.

Kala.
I wish it.
My Lords, and sister, honour me to transferre
Your companies to my Castle; it doth stand
Oppress'd with solitude, and mournes the lacke
Of noble hospitality, like a widow
Depriv'd of a lov'd husband. I doe long
To see Dame Ceres crown'd with wreathes of wheat,
Kisse plumpe cheek'd Bacchus there in daily feasts,
To view my table furnish'd with such guests
As would esteem't no trouble to adorne it
A yeare or two together, and there finde
No entertainment like a bounteous minde.

Exeunt.

Scena secunda.

Enter Parthenia with a Lute, & Exit.
Enter Demagoras.

This way she went, I followed her thorow the grove of Cypresse
to this Bower, she cannot be farre off.

Exit.
Song.
Parthenia within.
Parth.
O Argalus!

Enter Demagoras.
It was her voyce, Parthenia's voyce, she nam'd
Her minion Argalus: that sound (though cloth'd
In the inchanting accents of her breath)
Was harsh as Screech-owles, or the Whislers notes,
And shall be fatall to her as the straines
The Syrens (dancing on the peacefull Seas)
Bestow on wretched Mariners. Come forth,
Drags out Parth.
Imploy your airie numbers on your owne
Proud beauties Epitaph.

Parth.
What meanes my Lord,
This rude intrusion on my retir'd thoughts?
How dare you hand me thus? Uncivill man
Forbeare this boldnesse.

Demag.
Perswade me to't.
When you can sing the world into a sleepe,
Or tame wilde lightning with a teare; you'd best
Try if the passing sweetnesse of your tunes
Can (like the voyce of Magick) charme my rage
To pity, or bring Argalus to your rescue;
Would he were here, and arm'd with sulphurous clouds,
Like Jove imbracing Semele in fire,
This hand should snatch thee from his circular flames
To my revenge, inforce him to behold,
Helplesse, the present ruines of thy beauty.

Parthe.
Your threats cannot affright me, I defenc'd
With mine owne innocence, feare not your malice,
Should it invade my life; your foule intent
Will (like an arrow shot upright) descend
On your owne head. But pray declare my Lord
Why you thus riot on my guiltlesse selfe.
If 'cause I cannot love you, I will die
That causes Martyr.

Demag.
Die! your Fates reserve you
Not to so brave a period as death
From my great hand: I'le stick on thee a shame
Worse than the poore deprivall of thy life,
Such as will kill thee daily with conceit
Of thy unequall'd misery.

Parth.
Perhaps
He does intend my ravishment. My Lord,
Mischiefe I see in your distracted looks
Pretended to my purity: Oh doe not
Murder mine honour; I'le resigne my breath
With freedome to your fury. Surely Sirs
A virgins gore (sooner than blood of kids)
Will mollifie your heart of Adamant
To a soft fleshie substance.

Demag.
Doe not prate,
Nor with loud clamours fill the wood, nor question
What my intent is. Though you had not lov'd me,
You need not in contempt have throwne your heart
On that effeminate Argalus; that wrong
Fills my vast soule with horrour, and invites
My active thoughts to a severe revenge,
Since he whom I can name, but in contempt,
Usurps my lawfull priviledge; otherwise
The injury with patience had been borne,
Revenges cause is an immediate scorne.

Exeunt.
Enter Strephon, Clitophon, Sapho, Aminta.
Clito.
Gentle Aminta heare me.

Amint.
Have you done?
Winding Meander first shall straitly runne,
Roses in winter flourish, and our flocks
Weare golden fleeces in stead of woolly locks,
Ere Clitophon's false heart doe serious prove,
And entertaine the perfectnesse of love.

Streph.

'Tis her love to me makes her slight Clitophon thus.
This 'tis to be a handsome man: I shall doat shortly (seeing
my lovely Physnomie in some cleare spring, the Shepherds
looking-glasse) on my owne shadow, and like Narcissus leap
into the waves to embrace it.

Which is she among the Swains
On whom the gentle Strephon dains
To cast a sheeps-eye, nod or wink,
But does her selfe immortall think?
Who indeed has such a face,
So full of a bewitching grace.
My head loves pillow, where he does rest
As safe as Magpie in her nest.
My forehead sweetly is bespred
With Violets, and Tulips blew and red:
The amber Couslip, and the corall Rose,
Pretious complexion of my sweeter nose.
My eyes are elements from which fall showers.
That make my cheeks a spring of severall flowers.
So is my head a nose-gay growing on one stalke,
My body is the garden, though it walk;
And ther's no woman but may well,
To th'worst part about it smell.
My armes are Dragons that defend all these:
Now view in me living Hesperides.

Sapho.
Who looks on Strephon that will not suppose
The blushing Piony growing in his nose?
The yellow Primrose that in woods had wont
To flourish, springs up in his amber front.

Streph.

I had a face of brasse indeed should I deny this for
truth: shee'l praise me shortly into the starres, and then I
shall (for a new Planet) be set i'th the Shepherds Kalender.
What a gull's this Clitophon, how long might ho live ere he
be in such favour with the Shepherdesses.

Why when on him they will not gaze,
On me they stare with much amaze;
And when on him, as on a Clowne,
With lowring lookes they scowle and frowne,
Let gentle Strephon but vouchsafe
To let them looke on him, they laugh.

Clitoph.
Oh you are pleasant Strephon. Sapho say,
Are you as cruell as Aminta? Day
Loves not the Sunne-shine dearlier than my flame
Is equally devoted to your name:
To yours Aminta joyntly, Oh you two,
Are clearer, sweeter than the morning dew
Falling in May on Lillies, fairer farre
Than Venus Swannes, or spotlesse Ermins are.
Which first vouchsafes me answer? There does flie
Immediate comfort from Aminta's eye:
Sapho speakes joy in smiles: but Virgins, here
Comes beauties abstract, who has no peere.
Enter Florida.
Grace me, deare Florida, with one blest looke.

Florid.
Away dissembler; Fishes scorne the hooke
They see laid bare before them: but prepare,
The other Shepherds hither comming are,
Attending on my Lady and her guests.
This musicke does invite us to Pans feast.

Enter Kalander, Argalus, Philarchus, Castalia, singing.
Great Pan to thee we doe consine
This fleece of Wooll. This bowle of Wint
To father Bacchus, Ceres deare
This garland of the wheaten eare
Accept. Silvanus we present
These fruits to thee, thy bounty sent.
And you maids, from whose each eye
Winged shafts of love doe flie,
Doe not shame to let your feet
In a countrey measure meet
With these youths, whose active parts
Will play the theeves, and steale your hearts.

Dance.
Kaland.
Shepherds, we owe our gratitude to your thankes.

Sapho.
Lords, and Ladies, thankes to all
That grac'd our harmlesse festivall.

Exeunt Shepherds.
Kalan.
I doe admire we wanted my faire Neece
At these solemnities: me thought the sports
Shew'd dull without her; noble Argalus
My best wishes wait upon you.
Exit Kaland.

Arga.
Your honours Creature: I much wonder where
Parthenia has bestow'd herselfe.

Enter Parthenia.
Phi.
Shee cannot
Be absent long, see here she comes;
Madam, you were expected here, the Shepherds
Did in their Pastorall presentments move
Dully without your presence. Why thus vail'd,
Extend your glorious beauty, and ecclipse
The emulous day with brightnesse: Heavens protect me,
What strange delusion's this?

Arg.
Surely a mist
Shades our amazed opticks, or has some
Black Devill taken her habituall forme
To mocke our erring fancies; 'tis her face
Vail'd in a robe of darknesse, yet her eyes
Shoot their accustomed brightnesse through the clouds,
To tell the admiring gazers, two such lights
Cannot indure privation: Horror friend!
What should portend this ominous sight?
Deare Madam, have you devis'd this embleme of disguise.
That when disperc'd 't may give more perfect lustre
To your most exquisite figure.

Parth.
Oh my Lord,
Look not on such a monster, lest my sight
Infect your spotlesse purity. I am
(Stop your innocent eares, left the harsh sound)
Pierce them with horror) poyson'd.

Philar.
What ignoble villaine,
Madam, has spoil'd natures most glorious frame,
Demolish'd such a beauty as the most
Cunning Painters with their skill shall never imitate?

Arga.
Let her name
Guesse at his appellation that has ventur'd
This irreligious blemish to white truth;
And were his heart wrapt in a marble rock,
Fenc'd with a Mine of Adamant, this hand
Should from the stony casket dig it out,
And with his vile blood poyson all the world.

Parthe.
Deare Sir, the employment of this fruitlesse rage
Cannot attach him for this mischiefe. 'Twas
Demagoras, who mad with the conceit
That for your sake I did neglect his love,
Surpris'd my guitlesse person in the wood,
And with a juyce (more poysonous than the foame
Of angry Dragons) sprinkled my cleare face,
By th'powerfull venome straight ore bespred with this
Contagious leprosie, and then he fled.

Arga.
Whither? What place can be so strong to guard
So mercilesse a Tyger? Should he mix
His conversation with unsetled aires,
Breake (like a cunning Pioner) through the earth,
And hide himselfe i'th Center, some quick wind,
Or hideous earthquake, would inforce him thence
To his deserved punishment. Oh friend!
Me thinks this object should affright the light
Into a sad concealment, force the clouds
To drop upon the earth in floods of teares,
And drowne it everlastingly.

Philar.
Poore Lady.

Parth.
Doe not Lords
Urge violent rage to discompose your peace, I will (like
The pleasing aire) wrap in that cloud, my head,
That has infected it, and seeke out death:
Nor doe I grieve for my vaine beauties losse,
Since shivering sicknesse, or the hand of age
Would have perform'd that office which his poyson
Usurp'd upon its lustre: this onely wounds
My fraile resolve, since I beleeve that you,
Lord Argalus, affected me, that I
Should be so wretched, as to be depriv'd
Of that indifferent forme, for which I might
Have merited your favour.

Arga.
Gracious soule!
Inforce my immortality from my brest,
Which like a flame (inclos'd 'twixt walls of brasse)
Strives to ascend to heaven, and fetch from thence
Thy ravish'd beauty: 'twas thy excellent minde
That I admir'd; no noble soule can fix
Onely on fleshly glory; and since that
Remaines intire, immoveable as faith,
I should undoe my honour, in revolt
From sacred truth, should I renounce thy love:
I'le yet imbrace thy Nuptialls with a heat
Holy as altars incense: for thy face!
A thousand virgins with immaculate teares
Shall weep upon it, bathe it in their bloods,
Till (from the different colours) the fresh Rose
And glorious Lillie, in that snowy field,
Regaine their ancient seats, and re-create thee
The absolute Queene of beauty.

Par.
Oh my Lord,
Your fancie wanders in distracted paths
Of vanquish'd reason; since infortunate I,
Must like a piece of Alablaster spoyl'd
By an unskilfull Carver, needs become
A most imperfect statue. Since I cannot
Boast any thing that's meriting your love,
Strive to forget Parthenia, who will seeke
Some desert, where poore mortall never trod,
To spend the wretched remnant of her life in.
Farewell my Lord, hereafter wish to meet,
As I doe, in one tombe, one winding sheet.