University of Virginia Library

Scen. 2.

Enter Rimbombo.
Farewell yee mountaines, and thou burning Ætna,
If yet I doe not beare thee in my brest,
And am my selfe, a liuing walking Ætna,
The Nymphs that on you dwell, are too coy,
Too coy and proud, more fierce then robbed tygre
More deafe then seas, and more inflexible
Then a growne Orke, false, flattering, cruell, craftie,
And which most grieues me, when I would embrace them,
Swifter then chased Deere, or dogs that chase them,
You heauens, what haue we poore men deserued,
That you should frame a woman, I and make her
So comely and so needefull? why should you cloath them
With so fine a shape? why should you place
Gold in their haire, allurement in their face?
And that which most may vex vs, you impart
Fire into their burning eyes, yce to their heart.
Why sweeten you their tongues with sugred charmes
And force men loue, and need their greatest harmes?
And most of all, why doe you make them fleete?
Minds as the windes, and wings vpon their feete?
Of hundred women that I know,
But one deserues to be a woman:
Whom better heauens haue not made more faire,
Then courteous, louing, kinde, and debonaire:
She, when she vsd our Mountaines, oft would stay,
And heare me speake, and vow, and sweare, and pray.
Here I haue learnt, she haunts along these shores:
Within these rockie clifts i'le hide my selfe,
Till fit occasion, if shee haue chang'd her minde,
Then safely may I curse all women kinde.

Exit.