 | The Shepheards Holy-Day |  |
SCENA SECUNDA.
Nerina, Hylas, Mirtillus.
Shepheard, I would you'd leave to follow me.
Hy.
How can I sweetest, when my heart is with you?
Ne.
With me? then tell me where, and see how soone
I shall restore it you.
Aside.
Mi.
Oh, this is fine.
Hy.
It hangs upon your eies, where being scorcht
With their disdaine, and dazel'd with their lustre,
It flies for ease unto your rosie lips.
But beaten thence with many a harsh deniall,
Faine would it come for better harbour here,
But here for ever it must be an Exile:
For pittie then faire Nymph, receive it you;
And if you can, teach it the hardnesse of
Your owne, and make it marble as yours is.
Mi.
I see he is not such a Novice as
Aside.
I tooke him for; he can tell how to speake.
Ne.
Well, if my heart be such as you will make it,
I am so much the gladder; that it is
Of strength to be a fence unto my honour.
Hy.
In vaine a fence is made to guard the sheep,
Ne.
What if within
It keepe a dog of prey, would they be safe?
For my part Ile not cherish in my breast,
The man that would undoe my chastitie.
Hy.
Then cherish me, for you best know, I never
Attempted any thing to cast a spot
On that white Innocence, to which I am
A most religious votary.
Mi
More foole you;
Aside.
It may be if you had, it needed not
Ha' come to this.
Ne.
Yes, yes, you may remember,
I blush to tell it you, when first my thoughts
Were pure and simple, (as I hope they are
Still, and will so continue, whilst I flie
Such companie as you) I thought you one
Whom never any flame impure had toucht:
Then we converst without suspect together.
Hy.
And am I not so still? why do you now
Flie from me thus?
Ne.
The cause I shall tell you,
Since you will not remember; though it be
Unfit for me to speake, yet you shall know
How just my anger is.
Hy.
Ay me! most wretched!
What have I don?
Ne.
When tending of my flocks
(Which beares the guilt of your foule misdemeanour)
My maide Corisca cried out for my helpe,
Because a bee had stung her in the face:
You heard me speake in pittie of her smart,
A charme, my mother taught me, (that being said
Close to the place affected, takes away
The paine) which gave her ease, but you uncivill,
Turning my courtesie to your vile ends,
Fain'd you were stung too, and cried out, your lips
Had from the same sharpe point receiv'd a wound;
Prayd me to say the same charme over there.
I charitably lent my helpe to you,
Mistrusting nothing of your purposes,
When with ungentle hands you held me fast,
And for my thanks gave me a lustfull kisse,
Canst thou remember this, and yet not blush?
O impudence!
Hy.
You will excuse the heate
Of my desires; still I feele that sting
But dare not aske the cure, nor did I then
Do any hurt, but since you thinke it was
A fault, I do repent it, and am sorry
I did offend you so.
Mi.
Better, and better
He'le cry anon, he has already askt
Forgivenesse of her.
Ne.
Well shepheard looke
At all, or if at all, not you: let this
Settle your thoughts.
Hy.
Oh, it distracts them more:
But since my presence is offensive to you,
I must obey, yet if I thought you would,
When I am dead, the Martyr of your beautie,
Shed one poore teare on my untimely grave,
And say that Hylas was unfortunate
To love, where he might not be lov'd againe,
My ashes would find rest, and so farewell
The fairest, but the cruellst Nymph alive.
Mi.
What will you leave her thus?
Hy.
I prithee, come,
The sentence of my banishment is past,
Never to be recall'd.
Mi.
Are these the hopes
You fed upon? O what a thing in Nature
Is a coy woman! or how great a foole
The man is, that will give her leave to rule.
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