University of Virginia Library

SCENA 1.

Thyrsis
, Montanus.

Mon.
Alas poore shepheard!

Thy.
It shall affoord no shade to any thing
That hither us'd to come for its releife;
But henceforth be for ever infamous:
That when some gentle shepheard passes by,
And sees this ground rent with the crooked plough,
Here, he may say, here 'twas that Sylvia
Was lost, and then shall turne another way.

Mon.
Good Thyrsis, do not make so much of griefe,
Y'have fed it with too many teares already,
Take comfort now.

Thy.
What has my present state
To doe with comfort? if you see the trees
Widdow'd of leaves, the earth growne hard, and spoild
Of the greene mantles which she wont to weare,
You wonder not if winter then appeare.

Mon.
By these we know that season.

Thy.
And must I,
When she is gone, whose Sun-like eyes did cherish
An everlasting Summer in my life,
Feele any spring of joy to comfort me?
No father, griefe with me is best in season.

Mon.
But whilst you mourne thus, who looks to your flock?

Thy.
All as the shepheard is, such be his flocks,
So pine and languish, they, as in despaire
He pines and languishes, their fleecy locks
Let hang disorder'd, as their Masters haire,
Since she is gone that deckt both him, and them.
And now what beauty can there be to live
When she is lost that did all beauty give?

Mon.
But yet, mee thinks, for one that is a stranger,
Scarce knowne to any here, but by her name,
These plaints are overmuch: besides there are
In fruitfull Arcady as faire as she,
I'me sure more rich and wise, make out of them
A choise. Nerina is as faire as she,
Dorinda's flocks are more then Silvia's,
And carry on their backs more wooll then hers.

Thy.
Let such base Pesants, as the Gods do hate,
Admire their wealth, and them, for what they have,
Their bodies, and their soules materiall
Alike, of drossie substance are compounded,
And can contemplate nothing but the earth.
No, Silvia, whom some better God (perhaps
For the reward of my well tuned pipe)
Sent downe to me made up of ayre, and fire,
Though since, because I knew not how to use
With faire respect a gift so great as she,
Has justly reft her from me, is so much,
So great a part of me, that in her absence,
Amidst my griefe I feele some little joy,
To see how much of me each minute wasteth,
And gives me hope that when I shall dissolve
This earthly substance, and be pure as she
(For sure the Gods have taken her undefil'd)
I may injoy her lookes, and though it be
Prophane to touch a hallowed thing like her,
I may adore her yet, and recompence
With my religion the proud thoughts I had
once to injoy her.

Mo.
See how fond you are
T'embrace a shadow, and to leave the substance.
The love of Hylas to Nerina has
More hopes then yours; though she be yong and coy
Yet whilst Nerina is, and Hylas too,
One time or other, they may both haue joy

Thy.
May they prove happy in each others love,
And nothing please, but what each other do,
For so liv'd Thirsis and his Silvia,
Whilst Silvia was, and Thirsis was her loue,
What ever Thirsis pip'd pleasd Silvia,
Thirsis admird what ever Sylvia sung
And both their joyes were equall, or but one,
Well I can now remember (and it is
Some comfort to remember what I moane)
That when our loves began, how first I gaz'd
On her,, and she was pleasd that I should looke
Till greedily I had devour'd the hooke.
Love gave me courage then to speake my thoughts,
And gave her pitty to receive my words,
They linkt our hearts together: from that time
When ere she saw me strike the furious Boare,
(Though then my case she ru'd, and sigh'd full oft)
Yet was she pleas'd to see my victory,
And I receiv'd my vigour from her eye.
Then would she make me Chaplets of the best
And choicest flowers to adorne my head:
Which when I wore, methought I then did graspe
The Empire of the world; but what of that?
The more I then enjoy'd of heavenly blisse,
The more my present griefe and passion is.

Mon.
Well Thyrsis, since my words doe but renew
The story of your griefe, I'le leave to use
Perswasions to you; for 'tis time I see,
And not my words, must cure your maladie

Exit.
Thy.
That time must put a period to my life,
Or else it never will unto my griefe:
Come Boy, and under this same hanging bow,
The note which thou attemperst to my words,
Sing, and be happier then thy Master, Boy.

Boy.

Thy.
Enough: I'le sigh the rest out: Goe my boy,
Be carefull of thy tender Lambes, whilst I
Seeke out some hidden place to pine and dye.