 | Love Crownes the End |  |
ALEXIS.
How still the morning is, as if it meant
To steale upon us without Times consent.
And pry into our errors. I have beene
Searching in every Thicket, Wood, and Greene
To finde my Lamb, and many dolefull cryes
Enter'd my eares e're day. What's this that lyes
In such an obscure place, where none scarce tread,
Unlesse the Ghosts of the disturbed dead?
Blesse me great Pan, I see it's Clitons face
With a sword drawne; how happy was my chace
This way! I hope his folly has not made
Himselfe a Beast, as butcher'd with this Blade;
'T may be he sleepes: I'le speake to him, and try;
Yet I halfe doubt him 'cause he here doth lye.
Cliton, awake, the Night's dislodg'd, and now
Bright Morne is trimming of her Virgin brow,
To court the Sunne, when from the Westerne deepe
And Thetis lap his glimmering beames doe peepe
T' ascend his glorious Carre. Cliton—awake,
And with thy sleepe all dreames of horror shake
That may affright thee.
Kinde Alexis, thanks,
How found you me?
ALEXIS.
Walking those flowry banks,
'Twixt the greene valley, and the place which wee
Have consecrated to Loves Deity:
Seeking a stray'd Lamb, I did heare sad moanes
Proceed from some like peales of parting groanes,
Which I pursu'd, but in my search I found
None but your selfe: you resting on this ground
I wonder'd much to see you!
CLITON.
So you might.
But when y'ave heard the cause on't, 'twill affright
Your easie brest. Doe you observe this Hand,
This fatall Hand, at my unjust command
Did:—Oh, I could destroy't!
ALEXIS.
For what offence?
CLITON.
This hand has spilt the blood of Innocence,
My Florida's.
ALEXIS.
How?
CLITON.
And when I'd done
(As I might well) did hide me from the Sunne,
Fearing his eye would be the onely cause
To finde me out; and here from men and lawes
I have obscur'd my selfe, and could not say
'Twas justly night, when night: Nor day when day;
My fact had sulled both.
What urg'd thee to such inhumanity?
CLITON.
Onely suspition of her loyalty,
Dreaming Lysander had enjoy'd her love,
My jealousie to cruelty did move:
I slew her three dayes since, and since have bin
Each night at that place I stain'd with my sin,
To seeke the body, but some sacred Power,
For none else durst approach her purity,
Has certainly made her immortall, and
Convey'd the body to some holier land.
ALEXIS.
Is the body gone then?
CLITON.
Or else my eyes doe faile me as an abject not worth their help.
ALEXIS.
Thy crime requires contrition; to that end,
Thou shalt with me. Thy dayes to come shalt spend
In holy uses; I'le prepare for thee,
In the best forme I can, each property
Belonging to a pensive man. You must
Forget all youthfull pleasures, think on dust,
And penitence the onely meanes to bring
Thy soule to rest after this wandering.
Will you with me?
CLITON.
To death, or otherwise, since Florida is dead
Exeunt.
Cloe pursu'd by a lustfull sheepheard.
Lustfull Sheepheard.
Stay my darling, doe not flye,
This place is private, here's none nigh.
But embrace thee in my arme;
Cull and kisse, and doe the thing
Shepheards doe at wrasteling,
CLOE.
Oh help, if any Shepheards, neere,
Heare my laments.
Lust. Shepheard.
Yet creature, doe not feare:
But if you with coy disdaine,
Doe think to leave me in my flame,
I'le force those golden locks of thine
To lye beneath these feet of mine;
Then yeeld and here enjoy such sweet
As with our embraces meet.
CLOE.
Oh haplesse Maid, no ayde will come.
Lysander steps forth.
LYSANDER.
Feare not Virgin; here is some
Natures monster; Villaine, why
Does thy flame now burne so high?
Will no other serve thy turne
To quench the heats that in thee burne,
But so faire a soule as shee?
Villaine hence, or else I'le bee
Thy Butcher.
Lustfull shep. gazeth on him, then runnes in.
CLOE.
Kinde Youth, to whom am I
Bound for this faire courtesie?
LYSANDER.
First unto Heaven faire Creature; next to me
A poore unworthy Shepheard.
May your Sweetest whom you love,
Ever constant to you prove.
Be shee brighter than the Sunne,
Pleasing as our day at noone;
Fresher than the morning dew:
Sweeter than a new kill'd Ewe;
Like Aurora deckt with flowers,
Or the welcome Aprill showers.
May shee love you, and you be
The mirrour for true Constancie;
Goe gentle Youth, and this day prosperous be
Amongst our Swaines in your Activity.
Exit.
LYSANDER.
A thousand thanks reward you
Pan be my guide, and thou faire Glorians,
Whose beauty has encinder'd my poore heart
Almost to nothing this day; thou shalt finde
Thou hast a power above our humane kinde.
Exit.
DAPHNES.
Bright sunne, why do'st thou shine on me?
Is it to mock me? keepe thy light; for I
Had rather live in darknesse, and so dye.
Or do'st thou shew thy lustre in disdaine,
Because I have so oft with speech prophane
Blasphem'd against thy goodnesse, And in praise
Of a poore earthly creature spent my dayes?
Do'st thou yet smile? forgive me, and I'le bee
No more her servant, but will honour thee.
Keepe thou thy brightnesse Phœbus, and this day
From all our Swaines I'le bring the prize away.
Exit.
FRANCISCO.
Fairest, this day, be pleas'd to smile on me,
And let those hidden favours yet unshewne,
Flow in abundance, that Swaines may see
None e're can conquer me, but you alone.
GLORIANA.
My favours friend is past, and you have tasted
So much of my poore bounty, that it's wasted.
LEON.
We stay too long sonne, pray make haste,
Let us not spend time in waste.
Daughter, you shall goe with mee,
Where their pastime wee may see.
A noyse within.
Heark, I heare 'em make a noyse;
Oh my hearts my bonny boyes,
Play your parts; when I was young
I was full as stout and strong.
FRAN.
Dearest, I must part; this calls me hence.
Father, I leave you.
Exit Fra:
GLORIANA.
For ever I hope, would I could prophesie,
And be effectuall; it should be so.
LEON.
Daughter, this way let us high;
I am old, I'le not come nigh:
Nor shalt thou my dapper Girle,
Lest those staves that often whirle
Hit thy face. What againe!
Aowt againe.
Nay then I feare wee goe in vaine.
Yet Father let us goe, that we
May know who gain'd the victory.
Exeunt.
The lustfull sheepheard like a Satyre.
Because Dame Nature, pox of all her tricks,
Has not dealt so well with me as shee ought,
Making me but a lump of rough-hew'n stuffe,
The pettish Wenches will not play with me,
Nor tick nor toy, and cause I'm apt for sport:
How e're I'm form'd, I've put on this disguise,
To fright the baggages, when getting some
'Twixt these my armes, J'le force 'em to my will,
Yet passe unknowne. Thus I my sences fill.
Scrub within. So ho, so ho, so ho.
What noyse is yon?
SCRVB.
Through the Woods, and through the Woods have I run
after the Run-away my Master.—What art thou in the
devils name?
Lust. shepheard.
Sirrah, I am—
SCRVB.
A devil, I knew't before: Thou should'st be a leacherous
devill by thy hayrie hide: but I am no Succubus goodman
devill.
Lust. shepheard
Do'st thou feare me?
SCRVB.
Oh Lord, me Sir. I have met such another devill as thou
art, in my Porridge dish.
Lust. shepheard.
And didst thou know him?
Know him? how doe you meane know him? I should
be loth to know him or thee, or hee thee, or thy grand-Master
me for any ill; for I have defi'd the devill and his
works ever since the generall Earthquake, and that my
Mothers Cat miscarried in the horse Pond.
Lust. shepheard.
Was thy Mother a Witch?
SCRVB.
How a Witch you devill—I'le witch you.
Offers to strike.
Lust. shepheard.
Hold man; shee was an honest woman.
SCRVB.
Nay, now thou ly'st, and thou be'st the devils devill:
For I have heard her soberly say, shee had six—
Bastards by a Sowgelder before shee pigg'd me.
Offers again.
Lust. shepheard.
Hold, hold man.
SCRVB.
The devill afraid of blowes! I'le make you spet fire.
Runnes after him.
A great showt. Lysander with a Garland on's head, and scarfes on's armes, Cloe following him.
CLOE.
Friendly Swaine, the day is yours; you see
My prayer it seemes successfull was to thee.
Pitty my mayden teares; till now, I ne're
Su'd to a shepheard, but the shepheards were
My suiters.
Nor deeme me light, because my love is such;
I love indeed, and feare I love too much.
Take me as one that was your owne before.
LYSANDER.
How much I grieve faire Shepheardesse, my Fate
Will not allow me such a just proportion,
To render thee, as thy deserts have merited
From me.
CLOE.
Oh friend!
I'le be your servant, and your flocks will keepe.
I'le nightly watch while you doe sweetly sleepe,
And in the morne I'le willingly to field,
While you doe taste the sweets Loves valleyes yeeld,
And with industrious labour against noone,
Will get your dinner ready, so you will
But smile on me, and say well done.
LYSANDER.
To starve your hopes from furder prosecution in this suit.
Know I've already fixt my resolution
To love none but faire Gloriana, shee
Is the Commandresse of my life, and fortunes:
So much I pitty you, that I could wish
I had two hearts, that you might share in one
As a just recompence for your love, but why do I
Entertaine such frivolous unnecessary talk.
May you live happy, and enjoy as rare,
And constant Shepheard as your selfe is faire.
Exit.
CLOE.
Is my face wither'd? or has Nature so
Deform'd me lately that I am not Cloe?
For thee poore Cloe Shepheards have pitcht the Barre,
Wrastl'd, and leap'd, and showne the feats of Warre.
But thou did'st sleight and scorne their simple love.
How many Verses have the Shepheards made,
In praising of thy Beauty, whil'st thou laid
Thy heart on him that hates to heare thee nam'd,
And thy delight is still to have him fam'd?
How many Rings and Gloves hast thou receiv'd
From the poore Swaines thou often times deceiv'd?
For thee on Holy dayes they often would
Meet on the Heath next to the Pinders fold,
Where they with Musick, and such sweet content,
Would spend their time to make thee merriment.
Since then my love is not one mite rewarded,
And that my Beauty is no more regarded:
I'le teare these golden locks, that shepheards may
Leave off their sport, and make no Holy-day.
SINGS.
I will follow through yon Grove,
Where I soone shall meet my Love;
Then with sweet embraces wee
Will clip, and cull, and none shall see.
A willow Garland I will make,
And sweetly weare it for his sake.
Then through Thickets, Woods, and Plaines,
I will hide me from the Swaines?
Hy da, hy da, what art thou?
Where I soone shall meet my Love;
Then with sweet embraces wee
Will clip, and cull, and none shall see.
A willow Garland I will make,
And sweetly weare it for his sake.
Then through Thickets, Woods, and Plaines,
I will hide me from the Swaines?
Hy da, hy da, what art thou?
As she is running in, meetes her.
DAPHNES.
You were not wont to question that; how fares my dearest Love?
CLOE.
Hence thou coward, hence from me:
Blush at thy disloyalty.
Me reputation by thy fame;
And suffer'st now a stranger beare
The prize, and thou to have no share?
DAPHNE.
Your frownes my Fairest, and not hee,
Gain'd from me the victory.
Had you smil'd as you did frowne,
All his strength I'd mauger'd downe.
What has disturb'd my Love? who has committed
This injurie to thy person?
CLOE.
Ha, ha, ha; foole, foole! see you now foole?
Foole! kisse—kisse—kisse—
Exit.
DAPHNES.
What fickle things are women? yet they are such men
cannot be without; our too much doting on 'em makes
'em proud; for loving them, they'd make us hate our
selves. I doe suspect this bad distemper in her proceeds
from some deniall Lysander has given her to her unlawfull
suit, knowing my love to her. 'Tis so. I must not let her
suffer in too high a nature.
Exit.
A place discover'd all greene mirtles, adorn'd with Roses, a Title written over't thus. LOVERS VALLEY.
Lysander and Gloriana.
LYSANDER.
Dearest Love, faire as the Easterne morne,
When with her Summers roabe shee decks the Plaines,
And hangs on every bush a liquid pearle,
In Mayes triumphing moneth, sweet as the ayre,
The cunning Thiefe, and steale thy heart away,
And thou shalt stand as Judge to censure me,
To recompence thy losse I must agree;
To give my heart, which being understood,
'Tis but exchange, I keepe your heart, you mine.
GLORIANA.
Content my Love thus, shee would court thee,
And thus and thus shee'd play a Wantons part:
Doe I not blush Adonis.
Kisse him.
LYSANDER.
Oh, you must not blush! you spoile the jest on't,
I'le span thy Waste, and doe as Wantons use;
I'le be Adonis, but will not refuse.
GLORIANA.
Nay fie, you stray beyond your limits.
LYSANDER.
Kisse.
Modesty allowes such undefiled mixtures.
To them FRANCISCO.
Ah! where are my eyes? what curst unruly windes
Have blowne 'em out, and in their stead plac'd these base
counterfaits! Oh you Deities? you are unjust to suffer
this? If these eyes be my owne may they be blasted, that
without my Lycence.
Sway my passion.
Why doe I wish a mischiefe on my selfe
That must see their destruction? I have long
Suspected him by reason of her Necios,
And the continuall scorne dwelt on her brow
When I did proffer love, were I provided
I'd rush upon 'em, and from his base armes
A while and over-heare 'em.
GLORIANA.
'Tis time to part, w'ave dally'd Time too long.
Lysander, will you walk?
LYSANDER.
Thinks Gloriana
That Time is lost that's spent with her Lysander
FRANCISCO.
Deluding devill
GLORIANA.
I could Lysander.
(Might it not staine my Mayden-yeares) live onely
By gazing on thy Beauty.
LYSANDER.
Nay, now you mock me; but I hope e're long
Wee shall with more security enjoy
What our hearts wish for. Where shall wee next meet?
GLORIANA.
In this very place to morrow be sure you meet.
Exeunt.
LYSANDER.
I will not faile.
FRANCISCO.
Nor I to meet you both. Oh my best starres!
How I shall weave my selfe into revenge just, just Gods
y'ave stampt my braine for mischiefe, which on them
I'le execute.
Revenge has Coverts, fit to hide his sin.
Exit.
mad.
SINGS.
Hey downe a downe derry,
And shall not wee be merry?
A fire on thy hole,
'Tis as black as a cole,
And thy nose is as browne as a berry.
Hi ho. What a thing this love is?
Shee sings.
When Love did act a womans part,
Shee could have dy'd with all her heart,
It swell'd her so in every part;
Shee swore 'twas winde, and then did—
Hi, hi, hi, hi,
Nymphes
to her Sing about her.
Love cannot chuse but pitty yeeld,
He never liv'd in tented field,
Mongst iron hearted men,
He knowes both how, and when
Thee to restore
To what thou wert before.
He has a tender brest, which knowes
Your wants by the tormenting woes
He's subject to himselfe.
Then doe not you despaire,
That are both young and faire.
Thus wee convay you hence.
CLOE.
Where doe you leade mee?
Takes Cloe with 'em. Exeunt.
Lysander and Gloriana.
LYSANDER.
How blest are wee, that Fortune hath
Convenient opportunity?
GLORIANA.
'Tis an unaccustom'd favour,
And we ought in duty to acknowledge
A thankfulnesse for it.
Shee sits downe.
LYSANDER.
So sits the pride of Nature to out-vye
Each glorious Beauty of the chequer'd field,
And Flora's richest Wardrobe.
GLORIANA.
I perceive
Y'ave practis'd long in th'flattering Rules of love.
What wil reward you?
LYSANDER.
A kisse is more than I can merit.
Will you sing.
GLORIANA.
And you'l give me another for my paines.
LYSANDER.
Put it to the tryall:
You shall not loose your labour.
SONG.
GLORIANA.
Sit while I doe gather flowers,
And depopulate the Bowers.
Here's a kisse will come to thee;
Lysander.
Give me one, I'le give thee three.
BOTH.
Thus in harmlesse sport wee may,
Passe all idle houres away.
Hark, hark how fine
The Birds doe chime,
And pretty Philomel
Her moane doth tell.
BOTH.
Then pitty, pitty love, and all is well.
GLORIANA.
Here's the Violet, Pink, and Rose,
The sweetest breathings for the nose.
LYSANDER.
Yet thy breath to me doth yeeld
More fragrant sents than all the field.
GLORIANA.
Love cares not for flowers or toyes,
Play games for your apish Boyes.
Nor superstition
For his condition
Is for to know
Lysander—if you love or no?
GLORIANA.
Then answer, love I or no.
But yet me thinks that face should be
The Modell of true constancie:
Therefore no reason have I,
To suspect thy loyalty,
Here's another kisse for thee.
LYSANDER.
Give me one, I'le give thee three.
BOTH.
Thus in harmlesse sport wee may,
Passe all idle houres away.
Hark, hark how fine
The Birds doe chime,
And pretty Philomel,
Her moane doth tell.
BOTH.
Then pitty, pitty Love, and all is well.
LYSANDER.
Y'ave sung me most a sleepe, my eyes are dull and heavy,
Faith I must make thy lap my pillow.
GLORIANA.
Repose thy gentle head on't. Alas!
I'm heavy too, and must obey my destinie.
Sleepe.
The Destinies.
SING.
Sleepe on, sleepe on,
For wee have so decreed,
That thou must bleed:
Sleepe on, sleepe on,
And maist thou never rise,
For blood the shepheard cryes.
Sleepe on, sleepe on.
Exeunt.
A heavenly messenger
in white.
SONG.
Rise, rise Lysander to prevent
What the Destinies decreed.
Thou art constant, permanent,
And must not bleed:
Thy constant seed
Shall be the shepheards joy,
No annoy
Such a friend
As the Lasses need.
Rise, rise, awake!
And sleepe off shake;
The Heavens are pleas'd thy part to take,
For thy Love's sake.
Exit.
They stirre.
GLORIANA.
Lysander, where ar't? Lord how my fancie's troubled!
LYSANDER.
How fares my Gloriana? I have had
Strange thoughts that would have dispossest
Me of my rest, had I not tooke it here
On your sacred lap.
Francisco disguis'd with others.
FRANCISCO.
That is the man: upon him instantly
While I attach his Mistresse.
GLORIANA.
Ah me Lysander, what meanes these sad spectacles
1. VILLANE.
Wee must have life and death.
GLORIANA.
Both life and death: how can that be?
FRAN.
Thy life, and thy Lysanders death.
GLORIANA.
I've heard that voyce e're now
Afford more milder language.
FRAN.
Stop her mouth lest shee does charme me
Unto pitty.
Are you but men, and dare doe this?
GLORIANA.
Oh spare Lysander, sheath your swords in me.
FRAN.
Wee'l not expostulate: take that.
2. VILLANE.
And that.
They take her with them.
GLORIANA.
Oh Lysander!
Stay, stay, let me but breath my last
Upon her lips, and I'le forgive this Butchery.
Cowards, Villaines, Miscreants, have you left me?
But oh my fairest, whether art thou fled?
Feare has made pale those cheekes that were so red.
I'le follow thee: they shall not dare to touch
The least hem of thy garments. But oh, I faint;
And must surrender up to earth that part
I tooke from her. Gloriana, oh Gloriana!
Claudia and Florida.
CLAVDIA.
Wee may for recreation walk,
And use some pretty harmlesse talk.
Religion does not tye us to
A stricter course than wee can doe.
FLORIDA.
Tis dangerous walking, every field
Doth nought but sounds of horror yeeld,
And to my fancie doth appeare
Poore slaughter'd Maids; the Butchers beare
A way in killing to be kinde.
Lysander
Oh!
[FLORIDA.]
Ah me, whence came that groane?
CLAUDIA.
It is a Shepheard wounded sore.
FLORIDA.
Sure I've seene this face before!
Oh 'tis Lysander th' truest Swaine,
That ever breath'd on Grove or Plaine.
CLAUDIA.
What, is hee mark'd for present death?
FLORIDA.
No, there is hopes of life: his breath
I feele come coldly.
Take him with 'em.
CLAUDIA.
Help him in.
Pan be just, reward this sin.
SCRUB.
The devill and his dam I think have carri'd away my
Master; I cannot finde him in never a Wenches placuit,
(pocket I should say) and yet I have beene in a simple many
since I came among these Mutton-Mongers, these
sheepe-eaters, unlesse they have hid him amongst their
wooll, I cannot imagine where hee should be I will weare
my shooes to peeces but I'le finde him.
Exit.
Lysander, Claudia, Florida, and Cloe.
LYSANDER.
Religious Matron, from your divine hand
I have receiv'd my life next to heavens providence:
Sure my wounds were not desperate, or else
Some Angell did afford a soveraigne Balsome
I must ascribe it to your pious care:
For which I owe you more than I can pay,
Unlesse it be my life.
CLAUDIA.
The Surgery I use is sent from Heaven,
And you owe them your life, not me.
LYSANDER.
But Florida,
Did you ne're heare of your Cliton since?
FLORIDA.
Never.
Yet I would gladly see him, did I know
By what meanes to atchieve it?
CLOE.
Deare friend, the stories of us both if weigh'd
In an equall ballance, would poize each other
Yet to put her love to the Test, I'le undertake
your message.
LYSANDER.
Thou wilt endeare me to thee then, about it.
Exit Cloe.
FLORIDA.
You heard how Cloe came to our happy Cure.
LYSANDER.
Never.
FLORIDA.
The Wood Nymphes brought her to our Cell, finding
Her stray'd where ever since sh'as bin.
LYSANDER.
If you will with mee, I'le promise you, you shall see your Cliton:
FLORIDA.
On those conditions I will.
Whether now?
FLORIDA.
No farther than with your consent, and if you please, you
may goe with us.
Clau.
I am contented.
Exeunt.
Gloriana
distracted.
SINGS.
I know Lysander's dead,
Then farewell maydenhead;
Thou art but one:
When I am gone:
It never shall be said—hy ho, ho.
Oh Lysander.
CLITON
like a Hermit.
Save you faire Maid, I wish you joy,
Free from ought that may annoy
Your quiet, or disturb your sence;
Send you health and penitence.
GLORIANA.
Ha, ha, ha, what, are you Lysander? what, with that beard
there's a great beard indeed: heark you Fryer Tuck, doe
you see yon handsome shepheard Lysander?
CLITON.
You are mistaken, I'm a Hermit that can cure
All wounds, but what sinne makes impure;
And those are cur'd by one above:
I can help those ills that move
Man to distraction, jealous feares,
In man or woman. I have yeares
For all sorts a safe remedy.
GLORIANA.
SINGS.
Doe you see where he doth stand,
With a Crosse-Bow in his hand.
I will follow thee my Deare,
Though the Goblins keepeth there.
Offers to goe in.
CLITON.
Stay pure Mayd.
GLORIANA.
Why doe you hold me old man? insooth you shall not.
CLITON.
If you will be rul'd by mee,
You shall your Lysander see.
GLORIANA.
Shall I indeed now?
CLITON.
Come with me and you shall know
More, if you will but patient grow.
Exeunt.
Leonand Alexis.
Good Father, be patient.
LEON.
Is not my daughter lost, my onely daughter,
The onely staffe whereon my age did rest,
And onely comfort which I had on earth?
Oh! I am miserable.
Leon and Alexis.
There's hopes yet left to finde her.
LEON.
Never. Some rude and savage hand has kill'd my Girle,
Having deflowr'd her of her virgin honour.
To cure a bad distemper, to grow worse,
And fire it out of him. Oh my Alexis!
ALEXIS.
I'm lost in loosing her.
Let us endeavour to finde her,
LEON.
I'le take thy counsell, goodnesse guide me still,
Sometimes are Parents crosse against their will.
Exeunt.
Lysander. Claudia. Florida.
LYSANDER.
W'are almost at his Cell, where hee do's waste
Himselfe away with griefe, thinking you are
A Citizen in Heaven, and that wrong
He did you, has so defil'd his soule,
It cannot be purg'd off but by such penitence.
FLORIDA.
Y'ave mov'd my heart that it dissolves to teares,
Of blood, and water, for the strictnesse hee
Has undergone for mee.
Enter Cloe and Daphnes.
CLOE.
I'm glad I've found you; doe you see w'are coupl'd as
Lovers ought to doe: but your Gloriana is lost beyond
Recovery.
LYSANDER.
How?
DAPHNES.
Shee hearing of your death fell frantick, and
Since I have not seene her ne're our Groves.
LYSANDER.
Let us put wings to our pursuit to finde her;
CLAVDIA.
Great Pan send all things well.
Exeunt.
FRANCISCO.
Oh Conscience, how thou do'st buz into my eares; despaire
The thing attends my guilt, Gloriana lost:
For whose sweet sake I heap't new sinnes upon me?
What has my fury purchas'd nothing? Yes!
Hell, and destruction, which onely by a haire hangs o're
my head, which blowne by the least winde, falls downe
and sinks me.
SCRVB.
You sirrah, madcap, that creepes like a Crab there:
Hark you, doe not you know one Francisco and Pisander,
two vagabonds, that cannot live in peace with Poultry,
but they must flye after sheepe?
FRANCISCO.
I owe that wretched name Francisco.
SCRUB.
Who? you with that face! pray where's Pisander then?
FRANC.
I left him at the Court when I came thence.
SCRUB.
I see you shepheards will lye abominably, hee has beene
from the Court ever since seven yeares before hee was
borne.
Lysander. Leon. Gloriana. Claud. Florida. Cloe. Cliton. Daphnes. Alexis.
LYSANDER.
Friends, wee are happy made, Fortune and Love reserv'd
these blisses to crowne the end of things.
The story you related Florida.
How this divine Matron did take your body,
Finding it warme, and did apply such Balsames
As hath preserv'd your life, makes me most happy.
LYSANDER.
I'm blest in my Gloriana.
DAPHNES.
I in my Cloe.
CLITON.
And I in Florida.
Leon, Alexis, Claudia, and Florida.
And wee to see you possesse such blisse.
FRAN.
Ah! Protect me some blest power: keepe farther off. I
am yet reconcil'd with heaven. I doe confesse I kill'd you!
Oh be mercifull for their sweet sakes, whose innocence
cannot see, or be disturb'd by thee. There they are by thee;
thy once deare Gloriana.
LYSANDER.
What a distemper's this?
FRANCISCO.
What will appease thy Ghost? give me but time to aske
forgivenesse of those sacred powers I've most offended, by
depriving thee of life and being, and thou shalt have my
life for thy just sacrifice.
LYSANDER.
I apprehend his guilt: shepheard, feare not; your hate
grew not to such desperate effects as you expected. Feele,
I live and breath!
FRAN.
Delude me not, 'tis impossible.
These shall witnesse it.
OMNES.
Wee doe.
FRAN.
Can you forgive then my attempt?
LYSANDER.
With a true heart.
OMNES.
Lysander's still himselfe, noble and wise.
FRANCISCO.
And can you Fairest wipe that Ignominy off, I deserv'd
from you?
GLORIANA.
My Lysanders word sufficeth for us both.
FRAN.
Then may you both live happy many yeares:
May your joyes, never be disturb'd by feares.
SCRUB.
Heark you sir, now all your talk is over, I would know
one thing of you?
LYSANDER.
And what's that?
SCRUB.
Have you met with one Pisander, Leon, and Francisco in
your Travailes?
The Duke is dead that banisht good old Leon, and could
I finde him; his lands shall be restor'd.
LEON.
I am that Leon that with my sonne and daughter here
have liv'd e're since in this Rurall way.
Blessings doe follow blessings.
LYSANDER.
Then I am that Pisander that left the Court, to gaine thy
Daughters love by the name of Lysander. Scrub, dost thou
know me now?
SCRVB.
A pestlence on't, you are hee indeed.
FRAN.
Pisander, embrace thy friend Francisco.
LYSANDER.
Franciso! thou cloy'st me with joy.
Embrace.
FRAN.
I left the Court for the same end you did.
LYSANDER.
Shee's mine now Sir, is shee not?
LEON.
As fast as th' Priest can make her,
Fortune has made all happy: Yet 'tis fit
If they will wed, your hands should licence it.
| Love Crownes the End | |