 | Sicelides A Piscatory |  |
Act. 3.
Scen. 1.
Enter Perindus.VVhen Attyches with better sight I eye,
Some powre me thinks beyond humanity,
Some heauenly power within his bosome lyes
And plainely looks through th' windowes of his eyes.
Thalander, if that soules departed rest
In other men, thou liuest in his brest,
He is more then he seemes, or else—but see.
Enter Glaucilla.
My loue, my hate, my ioy, my miserie.
Glau.
Perindus, whither turnst thou? if thy wandring loue
My loue eschew, yet nothing canst thou see
Why thou shouldst flye me, I am no monster, friend,
That seekes thy spoyle, looke on me, I am shee
To whom th' hast vowd all fayth and loyalty,
Whom thou with vowes and prayers and oathes hast ply'd
And praying wept, and weeping beene deny'd,
And dy'd in the denyall, I am she
Whom by my brothers importunity
Thalanders meanes thou want'st, who still perseuer,
Though thou art chang'd, I louing loue for euer.
Tell me am I altered in minde or bodies frame?
What then I was am I not still the same?
Per.
Yes, yes, thou art the same both then and now
As faire, more faire then heauens clearest brow.
Glau.
What haue I now deserued?
Per.
In heauen to dwell:
The purest starre deserues not heauen so well.
Glau.
Perindus, I am the same, ah I am she
I was at first, but thou, thou art not hee
Which once thou wast.
True, ah too true:
Then was I happy being so distressed,
And now most miserable by being blessed.
Glau.
Tell me what thus hath chang'd thy former loue,
Which once thou sworst nor heauen nor hell could moue:
How hath this scorne and hate stolne in thy heart
And on a Commick stage, hast learnt the art
To play a tyrant, and a foule deceiuer?
To promise mercy, and performe it neuer?
To looke more sweete, maskt in thy lookes disguise,
Then mercies selfe, or pitties gracious eyes.
Per.
Fa, la, la, fa, la, la, lah.
Glau.
Ah me most miserable.
Per.
Ah me most miserable
Glau.
Wretched Glaucilla, where hast thou set thy loue!
Thy plaints his ioy, thy teares his laughter moue,
Sencelesse of these he sings at thy lamenting,
And laughs at thy hearts tormenting.
Wretched Glaucilla.
Per.
More wretched Perindus,
Where by refusing life, thou diest, for whom
Thou liuest, in whom thou drawst thy ioy and breath,
And to accept, thy life is more then death.
Glau.
Perindus.
Per.
Fa, la, la, fa, la, la, lah.
Exit Perindus.
Scen. 2.
Glaucillasola.
Haplesse and fond, too fond and haplesse maide,
Whose hate with loue, whose loue with hate is payd,
Or learne to hate where thou hast hatred prou'd,
Or learne to loue againe, where thou art lou'd,
Thy loue gets scorne: doe not so dearely earne it,
At least learne by forgetting to vnlearne it.
Canst thou vnlearne the lesson thou has cond?
Since then thy fixed loue will leaue thee neuer
He hates thy loue, leaue thou his hate foreuer,
And though his yee might quench thy loues desiring
Liue in his loue and die in his admiring
Olinda so late abroad?
Enter Olinda,
The sunne is now at rest, heauens winking eyes
All drowsie seeme, loue onely rest denies:
But thou art free as aire, what is the reason?
What glasse is this?
Olin.
Prethee Glaucilla
Doe not thus search my soules deepe ranckling wound
Which thou canst neuer helpe when thou hast found.
Glau.
Thy soule was wont to lodge within mine eare
And euer, was it safely harboured there
My eare is not accquainted with my tongue
That eyther tongue or eare should doe thee wrong
Yet doe not tell me, I'le thee, I spie
Thy burning feauer is thy teltale eye.
Thou loust deny it not, thou loust Olinda
In vaine a chest to locke vp flames we seeke
Which now with purple fires thy blushing cheekes
Olin.
Th'art such a mistris in thy louing art
That all in vaine I hide my loue sicke heart
And yet as vaine to open't now tis hid.
Glau.
Why so loues hee another?
Olin.
I would he did.
Glau.
Strange wish in loue, much rather had I die,
Is he then perisht?
Olin.
Yes and with him I.
Glau.
I prethee tell me all doe not conceale it,
Ile mourne with thee if that I cannot heale it.
Olin.
Heare then and who so ere maiyst be a bride
Learne this of me to hate thy maiden pride.
Atyches thou knowest?
Thy champion?
Olin.
The same
Almost a yeare since he came to this towne
When finding mee fishing along the shore
Silent he angles by mee, till at length
Seeing mee take a starfish, and fling't away
He straight demands why I refus'd that pray
The cause I said was hate, he thus replied
Alas poore fish how wretch'ed is your fate
When you are kild for loue sau'd but for hate;
Yet then that fish much worse the fisher swaine
Who for his loue by hate is causeles slaine,
Glau.
Yet happier he that's slaine by loues defying
Then she in fate that liues yet euer dying
Olin.
But soone as loue he nam'd, I straight was parting
He holding mee thus speaks; stay Nymph and heare
I bring thee newes which well deserues thine eare
He which most loues thee and thou hatest most
Thalander (at his name my guiltie heart
Ashamed of it selfe did in me start)
He thus went on: Thalander's dead and dying
By oath and all his loue swore me to see thee
With these few words: Thalander quite forsaken
Would send to thee what thou from him hast taken
All life and health, and ne're his loue remoouing
Wishes thee a freind more happie and as louing
And with this prayer these legacies he sends thee
This pipe his mother Circes gift, to bind
With this soft whistle the loud whistling wind
And with this pipe he left this precious ring
Whose vertues cuers a venemous tooth or sting
Glau.
Thalander were wee nothing like the other
Only thy loue would proue thou art my brother.
Did not this moue thee.
Olin.
Glaucilla why should I lie
I tooke them as spoiles from a slaine enemio,
Was this, that I might kisse thy hand:
The last, the only gift thou canst impart
To such, so louing, and now dying heart!
I grant; be gone, vpon the Ring I spie
A Rubie cut most artificially,
Wherein was fram'd a youth in fire consuming,
And round within it as the Ring I turne,
I found these words, Aliue or dead, I burne.
Glau.
These words well fitt his heart, so you, so I
Thalander liuing loues, and louing dies.
Olin.
But oh those fained flames, such strange desires,
Such true, such lasting, neuer-quenched fires
Haue kindled in my brest, that all the Art
Of Triphons selfe cannot allay my smart:
Ah Glaucilla, the scornefull proud Olinda;
Which at so sweete a loue a mockery made,
Who scornd the true Thalander, loues his shade,
Whose thousand graces liuing could not turne mee,
His ashes now hee's dead to ashes, burne mee.
Glau.
If thus you loue him, how canst thou allow
Thy loue to Atyches! late didst thou vowe
In Neptunes temple to be his for euer.
Olin.
My hand he married there, my heart ah neuer.
Glaucilla, I loue him for his loue to mee,
For such his venture, for such his victorie,
But most, because in loue he is my riuall,
Because hee's like and loue, my Loue Thalander.
Ah, if my life will please him, let him take it,
He gaue it mee and I would faine forsake it.
Had it beene mine to giue, my wretched heart,
Not worth his dangerous fight, I would impart
But that is thine, Thalander thine for euer
With mee tis buried and arise shall neuer.
And wherefore serues this glasse?
Olin.
This is a dessamour Cosma lately gaue mee.
Olinda, knowst not yet the treachery
Of Cosma, she thy greatest enemy?
Prethee let me see't: shouldst thou this liquor proue,
I tell thee, friend, 'twill quench thy life and loue.
But so Ile temper't, it shall better please thee,
And after few spent houres shall euer ease thee.
Olin,
Tis beyond art, who there can giue reliefe.
Where patients hate the cure, more then the griefe?
Glau.
Yes, by my art, before th'art 12 houres older,
Ile ease thy heart, though neuer make it colder.
Exeunt.
Scen. 3.
Enter Conchilio.Con.
Glaucilla and Olinda? I marle what mettle,
What leaden earth and water nature put
Into these Nymphes, as cold, as dull, as frozen
As the hard rockes they dwell on! But my Mistris
Shee's all quicksiluer, neuer still, still mouing,
Now is she with some shepheard or some fisher,
And here she sets me to entertaine all commers:
This is the houre her Louers vse to muster.
But who should this be? ist you, old boy?
Enter Fredocaldo.
Old ten i'th hundred, are you the captaine? boh,
Fred.
Beshrew your heart, you are a very naughty boy,
I shake euery ioynt of me.
Con.
No shaking palsey, nor crampe has tane possession
Of your nimble limbes: ha, ha, he.
Fred.
Boy, where's thy Mistris?
Con.
Where she would bee.
Fred.
Where's that?
Con.
Where you would bee,
Fred.
What, in her bed?
Con.
Ah old goate, doe I smell you? yet in her bed?
Fred.
May not I speake a word or two with her.
what a foole tis? thou hast spoken twice a allreadie
Fred.
I But I would speake them in her eare.
Can.
I know your errand but I preethee tell mee Fredocaldoe
How ist possible that all the bellowes in loues fathers shoppe
Should kindle any fire in such a frost?
Fred.
Thou knowst not what is loue, I tell thee boy
I loue faire Cosma more then all her louers.
Con.
Now in my conscience he says true, this old wood
Makes a brighter fire then the greenest euer:
Fred.
Conchylio th'art deceiud, hast not seene
That of the May the lust of all the yeare
Nipt with the hoarie frost grows cold and chare?
And oft October though the yeares declining
With many daintie flowers is fairely shining
For as the flaming sunne puts out the fire
So may the heate of loue quench loues desires.
Con.
Cou'd this dotard doe as well as speake, he might—
Fred.
I tell thee boy, when I was young—
Con.
That was at the siedge of Troy
Now shall wee haue, more tales then euer poets made
But what will you giue mee Fredocaldoe
If I helpe thee in the rockie caue, neere to the mirtle groue
To speake with Cosma all alone.
Fred.
If thou'l doe it, Ile giue thee as faire an otter tamd for
fishing as euer was in Sicely.
Con.
Your hand on that: Ah old Saturne cold and dry we'l Ile doe't
Fred.
But when Conchylio when?
Con.
Within this houre expect her.
Fred.
Wilt thou besure.
Con.
Why did I euer deceiue you?
Fred:
neuer neuer:
Con.
beeleue mee Fredocaldoe I say beleeue mee then.
Fred.
Farewell; I'le keepe my promise.
Con.
Faile not within this houre:
Exit Fredocaldoe.
I know not what this old man's like, vnlesse
Our hill of Sicely the flaming Ætna:
Whose parches bowells still in fire consuming
Yet on his top congealed snow doth lye
As if there were not fire nor Phœbus nie.
Why should we count this strange? when euen so
This old mans heart's all fire, his head all snow?
But what fresh souldier's this?
Enter Armillus.
Ar.
My pretty wagge?
Con.
Sure you doe mistake me, sir, I am anothers.
Ar.
Thou dost mistake mee, boy, I know well whose thou
art.
Con.
I doubt you doe not.
Ar.
Th'art faire Cosmaes boy.
Con.
My mother told me so.
Ar.
Th'art a very wagge, take this, my boy.
Con.
True sir, now I am yours indeede; what! yellow? yours
to command: what would you with me?
Ar.
Seest thou!
Con.
Yes I see very well.
Ar.
Thou art too: quicke I prethee let me see thy Mistris.
Con.
Troth, sir, you cannot, shee's taken vp with other busines,
or rather taken downe, yet i'le trie sir.
Exit,
Ar.
Oft haue I maruaild how the erring eye,
Which of his proper obiect cannot lye,
In other subiect, failes so in his duty
When hee's to iudge of's chiefest obiect beauty.
None takes the night for day, the day for night.
The Lillies seeme alike to euery sight:
Yet when we partiall iudge of beauties graces,
Which are but colours plac't in womens faces,
The eye seemes neuer sure the selfesame show
And face, this thinkes a swanne, and that a crow.
But sure our minds with strong affections tainted,
Looke through our eyes as through a glasse that's painted.
So when we view our loues, we neuer see
What th'are, but what we faine would haue them be.
Thus Atyches. Perindus thus affecting
And thus to louo their beauties neuer moue them:
But therefore beautious seeme because they loue them.
Me thinks this Cosma farre them both excels,
In whose high forehead loue commanding dwels.
I like not this same too much modestie,
Commend the Senate for their grauity.
The wanton Nymph doth more delight me farre,
The modest Nymphs doe more seeme chaste then are,
Women are all alike, the difference this,
That seemes and is not, that both seemes and is.
Or if some are not, as they call it, ill,
They want the power and meanes, but not the will.
Enter Conchylo.
Con.
My Mistris as yet is so ouerlayd with sport or busines,
she cannot speake with you: may not I know your errand?
Ar.
My errand boy is loue.
Con.
Loue (um) tis light enough, I shall carry it away: 'tis so
short I shall remember it; but troth sir, another golden star
this starlesse night dropt in my hand, may chance to giue light
to make my Mistris shine in your armes.
Ar.
Hold thee boy, hold thee: will that content thee?
Con.
Sir doe you know thy myrtle groue?
Ar.
Yes well.
Con.
Your star will conduct you thither straight, within this
houre shee'l meete you there.
Ar.
How canst thou assure it?
Con.
Trust mee I'le procure it;
Else neuer more let me see golden stars.
Ar.
I'le try thee boy, 'tis but one mis-spent houre,
If thou performe thy promise good Conchylio,
Many such glittering nights shall shine on thee.
Con.
If? make no question sir.
Ar.
Farewell.
Con.
Adiew.
Exit.
This strange new bird, this goose with golden eggs
And yet not fedde too fat; now for my Crab,
Here's his twin, if heauens signes are right.
Enter Scrocca.
Next to the crab, the twin must come insight,
I'le out and seeke him.
Scen. 4.
Scrocca, Cancrone.Scr.
Saile home by land quotha? well, I'le haue that saddle
boate hung vp for a monument in the temple of Odoxcom,
hard by the euerlasting shooes, and now to see the ill lucke on't
neuer more neede of fish, a bounsing feast toward, vmber of
guests, not a whiting, not a haddock, not a cod-mop in the
house: and in stead of catching fish, wee must goe fish for our
nets, Cancrone, come along, along, along: the Orke's dead and
buried, the Orke's dead and buried.
Can.
I but does not his ghost walke thereabout?
within.
Neptune
On afore, I'le follow hintly fintly, by the hobnailes of
horse-shooes—
Scr.
Nay if you sweare, we shall catch no fish, what Cancrone,
sneake you still? whoop, we shall fish fairely if your fearmore
be off:
How now, what all in white?
Can.
Seest not I am busified? doest thou thinke a man can button
his coate and talke all at once?
Scr.
My prettie sea-cob, why I prethee why in thy white?
Con.
I no triumph I Ino triumph! tell thee this is my
triumphing sute, did not wee vanquish the Orke?
Scr.
I hope so: too but all our fellow fishers say t'was Atyches.
Can.
Thus Atyches kild him aliue, and wee kild him dead.
Scr.
I prethee on with thy gaberdine againe.
Can.
My old scaly slimie gaberdine? why, if I should fish in
that, euery finne would smell mee.
Well, our nets are not aboue ground, what shall wee doe?
Con.
Why then Sir, you must goe seeke them vnder ground.
Scr.
Well Sir, you'l follow.
Exit.
Can.
Muddie Scrocca, canst thou not perceiue Cancrones inside
by his new out-side? my old Orke apparell, my pitch patch
poledauies had no good perfume for a sweete louer, as I now
must be: but why a louer? because I meane to kill the next Orke
hand to hand; for my masters sisters sweetheart Ataches,
because a louer, therefore an Orkekiller.
Enter Conchylio.
Con.
What? old crab tortoise? has the Orke made you cast your
shell?
Can.
Fish mee no fishing: I'me all for flesh.
Con.
Thy lob hath learnt that fishers keepe no lent.
Can.
Therfore thou blue-beard Neptune, and thou trumphing
Triton, and thou watchet iacket Glaucus, Daucus, Maucus,
and all the rest of the salt fish gods, I denounce you all, and for
your formable farewell, I doe here reach forth to your dropping
driueling deities my loue warme hand to kisse.
[Conchylio spits ins hand.
Triton, thou beslauerest mee.
Con.
O doutie loues! heres more game for my mistresses net,
or rather for mine.
Can.
Nothing but Uenus smocke or Cupids wing shall wipe it
dry; surmount thy wagging wanton wing to mee, god Cupid.
Con.
Are you there? I Orkt you once, and now Ile fit you for
a Cupid.
Can.
Mee thinks I am growne very eloquent alreadie; thanks
sweete loue; O now for my master Perindus, he has a fine
crosse cut with's armes, and yet that Orke-catcher Ataches
has a pesslence carriage on's pate: the Nymphs beleare him
partly: so, so, so.
To thee, vpon my bare-head knee:
Knee neuer bare-head yet before,
Before it begged at thy doore.
Scr.
What? deuout Cancrone knocking at Cupids doore?
Can.
Ah Scrocca, thou hast corrupted the goodest verse! I was
making my supplantation to Trustie Triton for good lucke, and
see if he haue not heard mee: our nets are returnd.
Scr.
He might well heare thee for this once: for thou doest not
trouble him often. But if I had not lookt to them better then
he had, wee might haue gone whistle for them: come Cancrone,
will you goe?
Can.
Yes I warrant you, I'le peraduenture my person in a
Cocke-boate.
Scr.
Why then wee'l take the gallie foist.
Can.
Goe foist if you will, the burnt child dreads the water,
and good men are scantie, make much of one, Cancrone.
Scr.
Well, if you come, you shall haue vs at the red roche.
Can.
Yes, I'le fish on land for mermaids.
Exit.
This dog-fish had almost put mee out of my loue-lesson.
Now to thee againe, courteous Cupid.
Cupid for thy mothers doue
Helpe.
Enter Conchylio in Cupids habitt.
Con.
All haile, Cancrone, according to thy wish I here am present
great King of hearts, Duke of desires, Lord of loue, whom
mortals gentle Cupid doe ycleape.
Can.
Beest thou Cupid? thou art vile like our Conchylio.
Con.
True, Cancrone, and lest the beames of my bright deitie
should with their lustre wound those infant eyes, I haue vouchsaf't
in this for me to appeare, lo, thy Conchylio and thy Cupid
here, what wouldst thou with mee?
Can.
I haue a suite to your godship.
Con.
So it be not your Orke-suite I embrace it: say on, my
darling.
Can.
I am in loue as they say, but I cannot tell whom to be
in loue withall.
Con.
Here are Nymphs enow, Vrina, Olinda, Lilla, Glaucilla,
Bobadilla,
Mee thinks that Boberdil sounds like a fine play-fellow
for mee.
Con.
No, I'le tell thee one, her name shall make thy mouth
water.
Can.
Make water in my mouth? thats Vrina, I'le none of
her, shee's too high colourd.
Con.
No, tis Cosma, the fishers flame, the shepheards hope,
whose beautie Pas admires.
Can.
I, but will you throw forth a good word for mee?
Con.
I tell thee I'le make her all to beloue thee, shee shall not
rest till thee meete thee here; but first I must arme thee with
some magicke charmes.
Can.
What be they? my chops would faine be champing them.
Con.
First you must anagramatize her name, then sympathize
your owne.
Can.
Tize, zize, thize. I shall ne're hit that.
Con.
For an anagram I'le fit you: Cosma a smocke.
Can.
Prettie.
Con.
For the sympathie of your owne name but thus, your
name Cancrone bids you counterfeite the counter-creeping
crab; and goe backward to her.
Can.
Doe I looke like a crab? I had rather goe forward to a
Nymph.
Con.
Thirdly, because euery fisher is borne vnder Pisces, therefore
the signe is in the foote with you: you must come therefore
with one foote bare.
Con.
I but shall I not catch cold and cough and spoile my part?
Can.
It must be the right foote: and then seest thou this mirtle
tree? all my arrowes are made of the wood of it, thou must
in her sight get vp and gather the highest bough of it.
Con.
I but what shall I doe with the bough?
Con.
O the bough? why, setting thus a prettie while, you must
wrappe a cockle garland about it, and then when the poore
lasse melts and consumes with thy loue—
Can.
Then I'le throw it at her, & come downe to her, shall I not?
Con.
Excellent well, I see thou art inspir'd.
Can.
Nay I can take it, if you put it to mee.
But the iust nicke when thou must throw it is, when she
says I die, I cry, I lie.
Can.
I die, I cry, I lye. I would haue her lie, but not die, but
will you make her come indeede?
Con.
I and in her best clothes too.
Can.
Nay 'tis no such matter for clothes, but what must I
say? I had almost forgot it.
Con.
Nothing but a short charme, which I'le teach you as we
goe on afore, I'le follow you.
Can.
Let me see: backward?
Con.
Blockhead.
Can.
Barelegge?
Con.
Beetlepate.
Can.
Cockleshell?
Con.
Coxecombe.
Can.
Boughs?
Con.
Bussard.
Can.
The towne's ours. I no triumph, I no triumph.
Con.
I'le coole my hot louer, he shall sit on a perch for a stale,
now must I be vncupidate, & shortly appeare here Cosmafied,
it shall be hard but with the same limetwig I'le catch a bigger
bird then this.
My baite is seeming loue, my prey true laughter.
Scen. 5.
Enter Pas solus.What art, strength, wit, can tame a fish or flye?
The least of creatures vs'd to liberty,
With losse of life shake off base captiue chaines,
And with restraint all life disdaines.
But I, ah foole, yeld vp my selfe a slaue,
And what they shunne, by death doe basely craue:
My griefe more then my folly, who deplore
That which all others vse to wish before:
My loue loues too too much too many,
For while she liketh all, she loues not any.
Let me her falsly, or she truely loue me.
Enter Cosma.
See where she comes; and that so bright a sunne
Should haue no spheare, no certaine race to runne:
I'le stand and ouer-heare her.
Cos.
I can but smile to thinke how foolish wise
Those women are, that chuse their loues for wisedome.
Wisedome in men's a golden chaine to tie
Poore women in a glorious slauery.
Pas.
Hark Heauens! O monstrous! harke. O women, women.
Cos.
Fond men, that blame the loue that euer ranges
To foule and sluttish loue, that neuer changes.
The Muses loue by course, to change their meeter,
Loue is like linnen often chang'd, the sweeter.
Pas.
Thus these neate creatures, dead with loue and all,
By shunning beastlines, make it beastiall.
Cos.
Our beauty is our good, the cause of loue:
Fond that their good toth' best will not improue;
What Husbandman neglects his time of sowing?
What fisher loseth winds, now fairely blowing?
Beauty our good: ah good, ah short and brittle,
A little little good, for time as little,
How easie doest thou slide, and passe away?
Vnborne, full growne, and buried in a day.
Thy spring is short, and if thou now refuse it,
Tis gone, when faine thou wouldst, thou shalt not vse it.
The time and euery minute daily spends thee.
Spend thou the time, while time fit leisure lends thee.
Pas.
Does she not blush? hark, women, heres your preacher,
Maids, you want a Mistris; heres a teacher.
Cos.
Now since Conchylio spake of this Armillus,
My new found louer, I halfe long to try him:
Too cruell she that makes her hearts contenting,
To see a heart languish in loues tormenting.
What though i'th' night we liue most wantonly?
I' th'morne with clothes we put on modestie.
Next sunne ile act a part of feare and fright.
Pas.
Modestie? marry guipp: these are your modest creatures.
Cos.
Long haue I hated Olinda, and Glaucilla,
And one of them by this hath drunke her last,
The next shall follow ere the next day's past.
The ginne is layd, and if it hit aright,
This is her last, this her eternall night.
Perindus long I haue long lou'd, who euer scorn'd mee,
Because he loues Glaucilla; I know hee'l grieue:
But when the tempest once is ouerblowne,
Hoyst vp all sailes; the prize is sure mine owne.
Ill for a woman is that woman plac't,
Who like old Ianus, is not double fac't.
Now to Armillus who sure expects me.
How darke the night? more fit for Louers play.
The darkest night is louers brightest day.
Exit Cosma.
Pas.
Well Mistris Iana with your double face,
I thinke I shall outface you by and by.
Ile fit you for a face i'fayth, I could be mad now.
Well, since you are sportiue, i'le make one i'th play:
You haue a foole already, i'le act a Deuill;
And since you needes must to a new consort,
Ile beare a part, and make or marre the sport.
Enter Perindus.
Scen. 6.
Perindus, Pas.Per.
Atyches?
Pas.
No: Pas.
Per.
If thou seest Atyches, send him hither friend;
Exit Pas.
Of all the plagues that torture soules in hell,
Tantale, thy punishment doth most excell.
For present goods, thy euill most expresse,
Making thee vnhappy in thy happinesse.
I see, and may enioy what more torments me.
My life then loue, I rather would forsake,
Yet for my life, my loue I dare not take.
Glaucilla, couldst thou see this wretched brest,
What torments in it neuer resting rest,
Whom now thou thinkst the cause of all thy greeuing,
Then thou wouldst iudge the wretchedst creature liuing.
She's here.
Enter Glaucilla.
Glau.
Perindus, whither goest thou? the day's enough
To shew thy scorne, the night was made for rest.
For shame if not for loue, let night relieue me:
Take not that from mee, which thou wilt not giue me.
Knowst thou this place? euen here thou first didst vow,
Which I beleeue, and still me thinkes euen now
Cannot vnbeleeu't, that when thy constant heart,
From his first onely vowed loue should start,
These wauing seas should stand, whose rocks remoue,
Per.
Fa, la, la, fa, la, la, lah.
Glau.
O dancing leuity, you steady rocks,
Still stand you still? his fayth he lightly mocks.
Yee fleeting waues, why doe you neuer stand?
His words, his loue, his oathes, are writ in sand.
In rocks and seas I finde more sense and louing,
The rocke lesse hard then he, the sealesse mouing.
Per.
Didst neuer see the rockes in sayling moue?
Glau.
Not moue, but seeme to moue.
Per.
My picture right.
Glau.
What says Perindus?
Per.
Ha, ha, he, how scuruily griefe laughs!
Glau.
Perindus, by all the vowes I here coniure thee,
The vow that on thy soule thou didst assure me,
Tell me why thus my loue thou false refusest?
Why me thy fayth thy selfe thou thus deceiuest?
Per.
Ay me.
Glau.
How fares my loue?
Ah Glaucilla.
Glau.
I know thou canst not hate me.
Per.
I cannot hate, but laugh, and dance and sport,
This is not hate, Glaucilla, 'tis not hate.
Glau.
Canst thou Perindus thus delude me?
I'ue liu'd enough, farewell: thou last hast viewd mee.
Per.
Glaucilla?
Glau.
How canst thou speake that hated name?
Per.
Stay:
Glau.
To be mockt?
Per.
Stay, i'le tell thee all.
Glau.
Me thinks this forced mirth does not beseeme thee:
Sure 'tis not thine, it comes not from thy heart.
Per.
Glaucilla, call backe thy wish, seeke not to know
Thine or my death, thou winst thine ouerthrow.
Glau.
Thy griefe is common, I haue my part in thine:
Take not that from me which is iustly mine.
Per.
if I had any ioy, it were thine owne,
But grant me to be wretched all alone.
Glau.
Now all thy griefe is mine, but it vnhiding,
Halfe thou wilt take away, by halfe diuiding.
Per.
Thou seekst my loue, it is my loue to hide it,
And I shall shew more hate, when I diuide it.
Glau.
Thy loue thus hid, to me much hatred proues,
Vnhide thy hate, this hate will shew it loues:
Per.
Glaucilla, while my griefes vntouched rest,
My better part seemes quiet in thy brest.
Glau.
So thou art well, but still my better part,
Perindus, sinkes all loaden with his smart:
So thou my finger cut'st, and woundst my heart.
Per.
Since then thou wilt not giue me leaue to hide it,
Briefely 'tis thus: when thou thy loue hadst vowd me
Most sure, but yet no certaine time allowd me;
My marriage day as all my good desiring,
To Proteus Cell I went, the time enquiring,
There heard these words, the cause of all my sadnes,
Thus went th' Oracle.
The day, that thou with griefe so long forbearest,
Shall bring thee what thou wishest most and fearest.
Thy sisters graue shall bee her marriage bed,
In one selfe day twice dying, and once dead.
Thy friend, whom thou didst euer dearest choose,
In loosing thou shalt finde, in finding loose.
And briefly to conclude the worst at last,
Thou, or thy Loue shall from a rocke be cast.
Glaucilla, had thy loue but with my life beene priz'd,
My life t'enioy thy loue I had despis'd.
But since it may be thine, thy life destroying,
Shall nere bee giuen for my loues enioying:
Much rather, let me liue in fires tormenting,
Then with such purchase buy my hearts contenting.
Glau.
Then loue's the cause of all thy seeming hate,
What hast thou seene in me, that I should seeme,
My life more then thy loue, or mine esteeme?
Perindus thy hate hath cost me often dying,
So hast thou giuen mee death, by death denying:
For th' Oracle, with death I am contented,
And will not feare, what cannot be preuented.
Per.
Yet though such mischiefe Proteus did diuine,
Much better sped I at my fathers shrine:
Comming to Delphos, where the Pythian maid
Told me my wishes should be fully paid
And that within few dayes I should arriue
Through many bitter stormes, into the hiue.
Glau.
Why doubtst thou then? adiew loue till to morrow,
Next rising sunne shall to thee ease thy sorrow.
Per.
Maist thou proue true, or if heauen bad decree
The good be thine, light all the bad on me.
Glau.
Farewell.
Exit.
Thou giuest Glaucilla what thou wishest good rest.
This victory my minde hath whole possest,
If I but slumber, streight my fancie dreames,
This Atyches is much more then he seemes:
Comming to his couch, I found his emptie bed
As yet vntoucht, himselfe from sleepe is fled.
But soft, whom haue wee here?
Enter Atyches.
Atych.
The Oxe now feeles no yoke, all labour sleepes,
The soule vnbent, this as her play-time keepes,
And sports it selfe in fancies winding streames,
Bathing his thoughts in thousand winged dreames.
The fisher tyr'd with labour, snorteth fast,
And neuer thinks of paines to come or past,
Only loue waking rest and sleepe despises,
Sets later then the sunne, and sooner rises.
With him the day as night, the night as day,
All care, no rest, all worke, no holy-day.
How different from loue is louers guise!
He neuer opes, they neuer shut their eyes.
Per.
Ha: this is he, I'le stand and ouerheare him.
Atych.
So: I am alone, ther's none but I,
My griefe, my loue, my wonted company,
And which best fits a grieued louers sprite,
The silent stars and solitarie night.
Tell mee heauens sentinels that compasse round
This ball of earth, on earth was neuer found
A loue like mine, so long, so truly seru'd,
Whose wage is hate, haue all my paines deseru'd
Contempt? mine and her; for shee deare affected:
The more I lou'd, the more I was neglected.
Since thou canst loue where thou hast hatred prou'd,
Olinda, how canst thou hate where thou art lou'd?
Thy body is mine by conquest, but I find,
Thy bodie is not alwayes with thy mind.
Giue both or none, or if but one, o'th' two
Giue mee thy mind, and let thy bodie goe.
If this without thy minde I only haue,
Prooue mee, my deare, what canst thou hate in mee?
Vnlesse my loue, my loue still bent on thee?
My name's Thalander, perhaps it doth displease thee,
I will refuse my name, if that may ease thee.
Thalander to exile wee'l still confine,
And i'le be Atyches, so I bee thine.
Per.
Thalander? i'st possible? I oft suspected
How he is altered! not himselfe! i'st possible?
Aty.
Yet what thou hat'st, thy brother loues as well.
Tell me, my dearest loue, what haue I done?
What has Thalander done? ah tell mee.
Per.
More
Then thousand such as she can nere restore,
Thalander; start not; how haue my eyes deceiu'd me?
Ah, let me blesse my armes with thy embraces.
My deare, Thalander, my only life, my heart,
My soule, O of my soule the better part.
Ist thee I hold; I scarce dare trust mine eyes,
Which thus deceiu'd mee by their former lies.
Aty.
Thou welcomst miserie while thine armes infold mee.
Per.
I am the blessedst man that liues to hold thee.
My heart doth dance to finde thee.
Aty.
Ah Perindus,
When least thou thinkst, thou art deceiued most,
My selfe, my loue, my labour I haue lost,
When I haue lost my selfe, to finde my loue.
Per.
In losing of thy fame, th'ast found
She loues thee friend most dearely,
And though she thought thy loue would be her death.
Yet for and in thy loue, shee'd lose her breath,
And nothing else should grieue her in the end
She had one life for such a loue to spend.
Aty.
Doe not deceiue me.
Per.
Why shouldst thou mistrust me?
Perindus, my ioy, by too much ioy enioying,
I feele not halfe my ioy, by ouer-ioying.
Per.
Her selfe shall speake it. Come, let's goe.
Aty.
'Tis night!
Per.
Shee'l thinke it day, when thou art in her sight.
Aty.
Lead me, for yet my mind, too much affected
To haue it so, makes truth it selfe suspected.
Exeunt.
CHORVS.
Loue is the fire, damme, nurse, and seede
Of all that aire, earth, waters breede.
All these earth, water, aire, fire,
Though contraries, in loue conspire.
Fond painters: loue is not a lad,
With bow, and shafts, and feathers clad;
As he is fancied in the braine
Of some loose louing idle swaine,
Much sooner is he felt then seene,
His substance subtile, slight and thinne,
Oft leapes hee from the glancing eyes,
Oft in some smooth mount he lyes,
Soonest he winnes, the fastest flyes:
Oft lurkes he twixt the ruddy lips,
Thence while the heart his Nectar sips,
Downe to the soule the poyson slips,
Oft in a voyce creeps downe the eare,
Oft hides his darts in golden haire,
Oft blushing cheeks do light his fire,
Oft in a smooth soft kinne retires,
Often in smiles, often in teares;
His flaming heate in water beares,
When nothing else kindles desire,
Euen vertues selfe shall blow the fire:
Loue with thousand darts abounds,
Oft himselfe becomes a dart,
And loue with loue, doth loue impart.
Thou painfull pleasure, pleasing paine,
Thou gainefull life, thou losing gaine:
Thou bitter sweete, easing disease,
How doest thou by displeasing please?
How doest thou thus bewitch the heart?
To loue in hate, to ioy in smart.
To thinke it selfe most bound, when free,
And freest in his slauery.
Euery creature is thy debter,
None but loues, some worse, some better:
Onely in loue, they happy prooue,
Who loue what most deserues their loue.
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