 | The Shepheards Holy-Day |  |
SCENA 3.
Daphnis, Alcon. To Daphnis, Dorinda.
There is no way to avoide the shame of this:
Each shepheards boy that sings unto his flocke,
Will make me the scorn'd subject of his song.
Al.
Had you bin suddaine as I counsail'd you,
You had not faild: but you young men doe never
Goe through with any thing.
Do.
For heavens sake,
Call not that wicked deede to my remembrance.
I do repent me, that I e're beganne it:
I would not for a world have ended it:
Nerina's chaste, and faire, and I a villaine.
Leave me, I pray, for something tells me, you
Did first advise me to this damned act.
Nay, if you prize my friendship at this rate,
I'le leave you to your pennance.
Exit.
Da.
This old man
Is full of malice, nothing troubles him;
The ills that he has done, flie from his thoughts,
And he rejoyces that he did them queintly:
I have begun my youth, as if I meant
To have my age so punisht as his is,
Enter Dorinda.
Who's this? Dorinda? I have done her wrong:
I su'de for love to her first, which obtain'd,
I stucke disgraces on her; let me aske
Forgivenesse now, for 'twere too much to hope,
That she should love one stain'd with such a deed
As I have done, so foule and impious.
Do.
Great love, if yet thou art not satisfied
With all the wrongs I have sustain'd for thee:
My blood, I hope thy anger will appease,
Which thou maist glut thy selfe with.
Da.
Gentle Nymph.
Do.
I've beene too gentle, doe not mocke me with't:
O Daphnis, is it you? this is not well,
To mocke me thus; your looks when arm'd with frownes,
Gave not my heart so deepe a wound as this.
Da.
I meane no scorne, I come to aske your pardon
For what I've done already, not to heape
More sinnes upon my head.
Do.
'Tis very strange.
Da.
But true Dorinda, will you spit upon me?
Do.
But is this serious Daphnis? oh take heed,
Cracke not my heart with such a loade of griefe
And scorne, so prest as this is; if you doe,
The Gods will punish it: for though they have
Neglected me thus long, they will revenge
Such injuries as these.
Da.
My many ills
Discredit my repentance: if my words
Can finde no faith with you, beleeve my teares,
Indeed they are not feign'd.
Do.
Even so you look't
When first you stole my heart: but I forgive you,
What ere become of me; I still must love you.
Da.
Forgive me first, and then I will beginne
By my endeavours and true services
To deserve something of you, if not love.
Do.
There is not that hard heartednesse in man
Which I did thinke, for he repents I see:
O Daphnis, if thou mean'st not this as scorne,
Take me into thine armes, and I will be
Thy slave.
Da.
O say not so, let me
Rather be thine; it will be pride in me
To be ambitious of it.
Do.
Oh my heart!
What suddaine joy thou strik'st into it now!
But yet methinkes I feare thou dost not love me.
Why should you feare? by Pan you are to me
What ere you can imagine; equall, above
All that I ere thought faire; and if you be
Content to hide my faults, and take me to
Your nuptiall bed, (which yet I dare not hope)
But if you will, when ere that day shall come,
Th'embraces of my love and me, shall be
Such as the Cyprian boy from our abundance,
Shall take his fires to kindle other hearts,
Yet leave with us a flame, which we will cherish,
And keepe alive unto eternitie.
Do.
Women are ever credulous most then,
When knowledge of the truth would but afflict them:
I dare not now distrust you, though I knew,
What you have said, were false, it has a semblance
Of such a pleasing truth: Give me thy hand,
And take thou mine; whilst we walke thus intwin'd
I shall thinke Daphnis never was unkind.
| The Shepheards Holy-Day | |