University of Virginia Library

SCENA 1.

Thyrsis
, Delia.
Here I am come unto a place, where griefe
They say has no abode. In Princes Courts,
I've heard there is no roome for loves laments:
For either they enjoy, or else forget,
Thrice happy men, to whom love gives such leave:
It may be that this place, or people may
Worke so with me, and melt this frozen heart:
Ah foole, that canst beleeve the change of place,
Or ayre, can change thy minde; the love thou bearst,
Is woven so within thy thoughts, that as
Out of this piece thy Sylvia wrought for thee,
Thou canst not take her name forth, but withall
Thou must deface the whole: so Thyrsis thinke
The winde that here may rise, or heat, or raine
Thou maist auoide, thy love will still remaine,
And when thou diest, then may it die with thee;
Till then resolve to endure thy misery.

Del.
This is the garden, which I saw him go to,
And that is he, for all the markes she gave me
To know him by, he beares.

Thy.
A heavinesse
Weighs downe my head, and would invite me to
Repose my selfe; Ile take the offer, here
Ile rest awhile, for I have need of it.

Del.
How if I be deceiv'd, and this should proove
Another man: what then? I can excuse it;
He's layd already, and I feare, asleepe,
Ile stay untill he wake, but then suppose
That any body come, and take me here,
What will they thinke of me? Best wake him: shepheard:
It is a hansome youth, see what a grace
Shewes it selfe in his feature, such a face
Might take the heart of any Lady living,
I, though she were a Princesse: shepheard: what
Not yet? his sleepes are sound.

Thy.
Ah Sylvia,
Preserve thy life, oh let me die; Alas
I do but dreame; me thought I saw my selfe
Condemn'd to die, and Sylvia to save me,
Offerd her selfe, and would needs die for me:
'Twas a sweet shadow, let me court this dreame.

Del.
He must not sleepe againe: shepheard looke up.

Thy.
Who envies me this small repose, indeed
I do not often sleepe: ha, who are you?

Del.
Sent to thee, from thy Sylvia, shepheard rise
And follow me.

Thy.
Doe I dreame still? what are you?
Came you from heaven where my Sylvia is,
And must I thither? whosoere you are,
An Angell, or a feind, in such a name
You come, as I'me conjurd to follow you:
But I must die first: Here is to be with thee.

Del.
Stay, hold thy hand, I live, thy Sylvia lives
To make thee happy, if thou wilt goe to her.

Thy.
You're habited like those I've seene at Court,
And courtisie they say is ever there,
Yet mingled with deceit: if you do meane
T'abuse me for your sport, this way will prove
Too sad to raise mirth out of. There's no ill
That I have done to you, or any else,
Unlesse my constancy be here a sinne.

Del.
His griefes have made him wilde, I have no time
Left me to use perswasions, or to make
This truth apparant to you; on my word
You shall be safe, and if you dare beleeve me,
Ile bring you where your love is; follow me.

Thy.
Why should I doubt, or feare to goe with her?
Ill does he call for physicke, whom the Law
Has doom'd to die: There's no condition
Can prove worse to me then my present one.
Pray lead me where you please, I'me sure of this,
To one that's desperate, no way's amisse.