University of Virginia Library

SCENA PRIM.

Thyrsis
, Montanus.
To them Mirtillus.
This day the Sunne shot forth his beames as faire
As ere he did, and through the trembling aire
Coole Zephyrus with gentle murmuring
Breath'd a new freshnesse on each Tree and Plant:
My Kids as gamesome too, as ere they were;
All shew a face of gladnesse but my selfe.

Mon.
And why not you aswell by their example?

Thy.
Not in this life, here joy would be untimely:
The Gods reserve for me their comforts in
Th'Elyzian fields, or else they mocke my sorrows.

Mon.
O say not so, they're just and pittifull.

Thyr.
They are, but Father, (so I still must call you)
When in the sadnesse of my soule I askt
Before the Altar of our great Apollo,
What should become of me, or where my love
Bright Silvia was, whether alive or dead,
Why should the Oracle reply, Goe home,
Thou shalt enjoy thy Silvia?

Mon.
What more could you
Desire to heare?

Th.
I, but when greedily
I askt the time, the answere was, That day
Thou art not Thirsis, nor she Silvia.
Then in this life I'me sure it must not be,
For I was Thyrsis ever call'd, and she
Knowne by no other name then Sylvia.

Mon.
It may be for your importunity
You might deserve this answere, or else is it
Because the Gods speake not their mysteries
To be conceiv'd by every vulgar sence?
I now remember what Acrisius,
The wise and vertuous Acrisius
Was wont to say.

Th.
Why? what said he?
Does it concerne me ought?

Mon.
It may do sonne,
He bid us flie all curiositie.
Seeking to know what future time may bring
To us, which onely Gods above do know,
And if at any time they do impart
This knowledge unto us, it is inwrapt
In such a mist, as we shall neere see through it:
Because, said he, we have enough to doe
With what is present: the celestiall powers
Would not cut of our hopes, nor multiply
Our cares, by shewing us our destinie.

Thy.
Oh this discourse to a despairing lover,
What comfort does it bring? for heavens sake leave it,
And me; for I am best, I finde, alone:
Yet stay, there's something that I faine would aske you:
You said this Circle here about my necke
Has so continu'd from my infancie,
When first you tooke me up.

Mon.
Tis true, that Circle
Hung loosely then about your necke, which since
Is filld with it. I left it there, because
I saw some letters that were wrought about it.

Thy.
And may they not be read?

Mon.
I thinke they may:
But I could never finde so greate a Clerke,
As could tell how t'expound the meaning of them.

Thy.
My life is nothing but a Mystery;
That which I was, and that which I shall be,
Is equally unknowne. Now, if you'le leave me
Unto my thoughts, they'le keepe me companie.

Mon.
I will, but here is one come to supplie me.

Enter to him Mirtillus.
Mi.
Sings.

Th.
True Mirtillus,
And yet I doe not envie thee the pleasure,
Thou hast in thy dispers'd affections.

M.
You would, if your head were right once; but love,
Your love does make an Asse of all your reason.

Th.
Sure, a true lover is more rationall
Then you, that love at randome every where.

Mi.
I doe not thinke so; all the reason love
Has left you, to imploy in this discourse,
Will hardly bring me to confesse it to you.

Th.
Why? all mens actions have some proper end,
Whereto their meanes and strict endeavours tend:
Else there would be nought but perplexitie
In humane life, and all uncertaintie.

Mi.
Well, what will you inferre on this?

Thy.
That you,
Who know no end at all of wild desire,
Must in your wandring fancie see this way
Leads unto madnesse, when too late you finde
That nothing satisfies a boundlesse minde.

Mi.
I, but I do confine my selfe to two,
Or three at most; in this varietie
I please my selfe, for what is wanting in
One, I may finde it in another.

Th.
No.
Not in another, one is the onely Centre
The line of love is drawne to, must have all
Perfections in her, all that's good and faire,
Or else her Lover must beleeve her so.

Mi.
I, there's your error, that's the ground of all
Your teares, and sighs, your fruitlesse hopes and feares,
When she perhaps has not so much t'adorne her
As the least grace your thoughts bestow upon her.

Th.
Well, be it so; and yet this faire Idea
Which I have fram'd unto my selfe, does argue
Vertue in me; so that if she be lost,
Or dead, (ay me! the sad remembrance of
My Sylvia causes this) yet I must love,
Because the Character is indelible,
Writ in my heart, and heaven is witnesse to it.

Mi.
Well, I'le no more of this, I'le be converted,
Rather then call this griefe to your remembrance.

Th.
Why? dost thou thinke I ever shall forget her?
Or that where ere I set my carefull foote,
As in this place, will it not tell me, that
Here Sylvia and I walkt hand in hand,
And here she pluckt a flower, and anon
She gave it me; and then we kiss't, and here
We mutually did vow each others love?

Mi.
Nay leave good Thyrsis, I did come to tell you,
This holy-day our Royall Prince Euarchus
Being remov'd to his house here neere adjoyning,
Sent to command us to attend his person,
With all our sports and wonted merriment,
Wherein you alwaies bore the chiefest part.
And I have heard, ('tis not to make you blush)
The Princesse has commended your rare Art
And hansome graces, which you gave your Musicke.
Come, you must goe with us, for Hylas is
So farre ingag'd in love, and neere his hopes,
He will not stirre unlesse his Mistresse goe.

Thy.
Alas Mirtillus, I have broke my Pipe,
My sighs are all the musicke which I now
Can make, and how unfit I am t'attend
So great an expectation, you may see.
Yet give me leave to thinke on it, at night
Perhaps Ile goe with you.

Mi.
Till then farewell.
The gentlest youth that ever plaid on Pipe:
But see, who's here? oh, 'tis my other Lover,
His Mistresse with him, I will not disturbe him.