University of Virginia Library

SCENA. 4.

Charinus
, Nerina, Dorinda, Hylas, Mirtillus, Nuntius.
Hold up thy head good childe, see he is come;
Bring me the water quickly, whilst there is
Some life in her: now chafe her good Dorinda.

Ne.
All is in vaine, I cannot live; deare father
Farewell: what shepheard's that lies on the ground?
Is it not Hylas?

Do.
Yes, it is he, Nerina.

Ne.
Alas poore shepheard, tis my greatest griefe,
That I have grieved him, I would beg life
For nothing but to make him satisfaction.

Mi.
Hylas, what on the ground? looke up and speake
Alas, he's dead.

Ne.
It cannot be: good father
Let me goe to him, and but touch his eare,
It may be that my voice may have more vertue.

Cha.
Do what thou wilt sweete heart: see my poore child
How charitable she is, being halfe dead
Her selfe, she pities others.

Ni.
Marke her finenesse,
Now at the brimm of death: she kisses him:
And tooke this way to mock her simple father;
O fine invention! sure a womans wit,
Does never faile her.

Ne.
Hylas, Hylas, speake,
Nerina calls thee; speake to thy Nerina.

Mi.
What cannot love doe? It revives the dead,
He's come to himselfe againe.

Hy.
What God is it,
That has the power to returne my soule
From the Elysian fields?

Mi.
It is no God,
A Goddesse rather, Hylas. 'Tis Nerina,
Looke where she is.

Hy.
Ah then I do not wonder
I cannot die, when my best soule comes to me:
Shall wee live ever thus?

Ne.
How faine I would
For thy sake, Hylas, but it cannot be:
I feele a heavy sleepe sit on my head,
And my strength failes me, helpe me sweet Dorinda,
Farewell for ever: oh I die, I die.

Hy.
And must I then be call'd to life againe,
To see my life expire before my face?
You Fates, if you will take a ransome for her,
Then take my life: but you are sure of that
Youle say already: for in her one death
Two lives are forfeit: Nerina, gentle Nymph,
The cause why now I live, open these eyes
Once more, and I shall flourish like those plants
The sunne gives life to: else I fall, and wither,
Leaving behinde naught but a worthlesse stemme:
Speake to thy Hylas, sweete Nerina, speake.

Cha.
Ay me! my daughter, hast thou liv'd, perhaps,
I might have seene thee married to Daphnis,
Now we must see thee buried: Ay me!

Ne.
Hylas.

Hy.
She lives, give me some more of that,
That water there, see now she comes againe:
O gentle destinies, but spare this thred,
And cut a thousand courser, speake Nerina,
Give me some comfort, give thy father some,
Or else behold three lives fall in thy death.

Ne.
You Fates, that keepe th'accompt of all our daies,
Adde but one minute to my life, that I
May quit my soule of those two heavy burthens
Which now oppresse it: Dry your eyes good father,
Remember that the Gods doe send us nothing
But for our good; and if my journey be
Shorter then yours, the lesse will be my trouble:
Will you forgive me father, that I have not
Paid so much duty to you, as I ow'd you:
Take my good will, I pray, insteed of it.

Cha.
See her good Nature: I childe, 'tis enough,
Thou alwaies wert obedient.

Ne.
Shall I dare
To speake my thoughts, and so discharge my soule
Of one loade yet?

Cha.
I, doe my childe, speake freely.

Ne.
I've heard you say, that no sinne was so heavy
As is ingratitude.

Cha.
'Tis true, Nerina,
How she remembers what her father said!

Ne.
Then be not angry, if I now must tell you,
That this poore shepheard, whose swolne eyes you see
Cover'd with teares, for many yeares now past
Has courted me: but still with such a love,
So full of truth and gentle services,
That should I not requite him with my love,
I should be guilty of ingratitude:
Therefore before I die, I pray give leave
That he may have my dying heart, which living,
I still debar'd him of. Hylas, thy hand.
O stay a little death: here, take thou mine,
And since I cannot live the wife of Hylas,
Yet let me die so: Sir, are you content?

Cha.
I am, with any thing that pleaseth thee.

Ne.
Tell me, are you so Hylas?

Hy.
O my love,
Aske me if I would live amongst the Gods,
But aske not this: Sir, have we your consent?

Cha.
You have, it is in vaine now to denie it:
You see, Dorinda, what her vow's come to.

Ne.
Then let me die, take me into thy Armes,
Sweet love, you'le see my coffin strew'd with flowers,
And you Dorinda, will you make a garland?
I die a virgine, though I die his wife.

Do.
Alas, she's gon.

Hy.
She's dead, and do I live?

Cha.
Looke to the shepheard there: oh my Nerina!

Do.
Vexe not her soule, I pray, with often calling,
You see she's dead.

Cha.
Then there is no hope left:
Pray helpe us shepheards now to beare her hence;
You'le come I hope to see her in her grave.