University of Virginia Library

Actvs 2.

Scen 1.

Pilumnus Vrania.
Vra.
Father perswade me not! The power of heaven
Can never force me from Amyntas love;
'Tis rooted here so deepe within my heart
That he which pulls it out, pulls out at once,
That and my soule together.

Pil.
Fond Vrania,
Can ignorant love make thee affect the seede,
The hatefull seede of cursed Lalage?
Did I for this beget thee?

Vra.
Father, you know
Divinitie is powerfull, Cupids will
Must not be question'd: When love meanes to sport
(I'have heard your selfe relate it) he can make
The Wolfe and Lambe kisse freindly; force the Lyon
T'forget his Majestie, and in amorous dalliance
Sport with the frisking Kid. When Venus rides,
Shee'le linke the ravenous Kite, and milder Swan
To the same chariot, and will yoak together
The necks of Doves and Eagles; when as shee
Commands, all things loose their Antipathie,
Even contrarieties: can I alone
Resist her will? I cannot, my Amyntas
Shall witnesse that!

Pil.
I blame thee not so much
For loving him, while yet he was Amyntas.
But being mad and having lost himselfe,
Why shouldst not thou loose thy affection too?

Vra.
I love him now the rather; he hath lost
Himselfe for me, and should he loose me too?
It were a sinne he should!

Pil.
What canst thou love
In his distemper'd wildnesse?

Vra.
Only that,
His wildnesse, 'tis the comfort I have left
To make my teares keepe time to his distractions;
To think as wildly as he talks; to marry
Our griefs together, since our selves we cannot.
The Oracle doth aske so strange a Dowry,
That now his company is the only blisse
My love can aime at: but I stay too long
I'le in to comfort him.

Pil.
Doe not Vrania.

Vra.
Doe not?
I must and will; Nature commands me no,
But Love more powerfull sayes it shall be so.

Exit.
Pil.
The Gods did well to make their Destinies
Of woemen, that their wills might stand for law
Fixt and unchang'd; who's this? Corymbus? he.

Scen. 2.

Pilumnus. Corymbus.
Pil.
Corymbus—welcome!

Cor.
Sacred Pilumnus—hayle!
And fruitfull Sicilie I kisse thy dust—

Pil.
What newes Corymbus? Is our Countrie's Mischeif
Fetter'd in chaines?

Cor.
Thrice the sunne hath past
Through the twelve Inns of heaven, since my diligence
Has been imploy'd in quest of him, whose death
Must give poore lovers life, the hatefull Claius;
Yet could I ne're heare of him:—The meane while
How fare the poore Sicilians? Does awfull Ceres
Still bend her angry brow? Find the sad Lovers
No rest, no quiet yet?

Pil.
Corymbus none!
The Goddesse has not yet deign'd to accept
One sacrifice, no favourable Echo
Resounded from her Ompha; All her answers
Are full, and doubtfull.

Cor.
The true signe, Pilumnus,
Her wrath is not appeas'd.

Pil.
Appeas'd say you?
Rather againe incens'd so farre, Corymbus,
As that my selfe am plagu'd; My poore Vrania
Dotes on Amyntas.

Cor.
First shall our hives swarme in the venemous yew,
And Goats shall browze upon our myrtle wands!
—One of your blood, Pilumnus, (is it possible)
Love Lalage and Claius brood?

Pil.
The chaine of fate
Will have it so! And he lov'd her as much.

Cor.
That makes it something better.

Pil.
Ah, thou knowest not
What sting this waspish fortune pricks me with!
I seeing their loves so constant, so inflexible,
Chid with dame Ceres if she us'd me thus.
My words were inconsiderate, and the heavens
Punish'd my rough expostulations:
Being Archiflamen of Trinacria
I did demand a Dowry of that sheapheard
That askes my daughter:—Set the price said I,
Thou Goddesse, that dost cause such hatefull loves;
If that Amyntas be thy darling swaine,
Aske thou, and set a Dowry for Vrania:
With that the Altar groan'd, my haire grew stiffe,
Amyntas look'd agast; Vrania quiver'd,
And the Ompha answer'd

Cor.
With an Echo;

Pil.
No.

Co.
Then I presage some ill!

Pi.
This darke demand,
That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have,
Amyntas, is the dowry that I crave:
Rest hopelesse in thy love, or else divine
To give Vrania this and she is thine.
And so he did, but the perplexed sense
Troubled his braines so farre, he lost his wits;
Yet still he loves, and shee,—my griefe Corymbus
Will not permit me to relate rest!
I'le in into the Temple, and expresse
What's yet behinde in teares.

Exit.
Corym.
Sad sad Pilumnus!
And most distress'd Sicilians! Other nations
Are happy in their loves, you only are unfortunate!
In all my travelles ne'r a spring but had
Her paire of lovers, singing to that musique
The gentle bubling of her waters made.
Never a walke unstor'd with amorous couples,
Twind with so close imbraces, as if both
Meant to growe one together! every shade
Sheltred some happy loves, that counting dazies
Scor'd up the summes on one anothers lips,
That met so oft and close, as if they had
Chang'd soules at every kisse. The married sort
As sweet and kind as they: at every evening
The loving husband and full-brested wife
Walk'd on the Downs so friendly, as if that
Had been their wedding day. The boies of five,
And girles of foure, e're that their lisping tongues
Had learn'd to prattle plaine, would prate of love,
Court one another, and in wanton dalliance
Returne such innocent kisses, you'd have thought
You had seene Turtles billing.

Scen. 3.

Mopsus. Corymbus.
Mop.
What aire is that? The voice of—Turtles billing!
Of Turtles! a good Omen! shee is chast—
And billing, billing, o delicious billing!
That word presages kissing.—

Co.
Who is this?
Mopsus, my learned Augur?

Mop.
Stand aside,
—The other side; I will not talke to thee
Vnlesse I have the winde.

Co.
Why, whats the matter Mopsus?

Mop.
Th'art infected;

Co.
What with the Plague?

Mop.
Worse then the Plague, the Wisdom!
You have been in travell, & that's dangerous
For getting Wisdome.

Co.
Then nere feare it, Mopsus,
For I come home a foole just as I went.

Mop.
By Ceres?

Co.
Yes.

Mop.
By Ceres welcome then!

Co.
But Mopsus, why doe you walke here alone!
That's—dangerous too!

Mop.
I: but I come to meet
The Cittizens of the aire; you have heard my skill
In augury?

Co.
Why I have heard your name
Not mention'd any where in all my Travailes.

Mop.
How? not mention'd?

Co.
—Yo'are to hasty Mopsus,
Not—without admiration.

Mop.
I know that.

Co.
How should you know it?

Mop.
Why some birds or other,
Fly from all countries hither, and they tell mee.

Co.
But how dare you converse with birds that travell?

Mop.
With an antidote I may: but my Corymbus
What strange birds have you seene beyond seas?

Cor.
Brave ones:
Ladies with fans and feathers! dainty Fowles!
There were brave taking Augury.

Mop.
But, Corymbus,
Are those fine Lady-birds such pretty things?

Co.
As tame as sparrowes, and as sweet as Nightingals.

Mop.
Is the Cocklady-bird, or the Henlady-bird
The better?

Co.
All are hens.

Mop.
O admirable!
Would you had brought me one! but whats the Fan?

Co.
A fan's a—wing of one side.

Mop.
Delicate!
And what's their Feather?

Co.
Like the copple-crowne
The Lap-wing has:

Mop.
The Lap-wing? then they'l—ly.

Co.
With men they will;

Mop.
Delicious Lady-birds!
But have they such brave traines, such curious tailes
As our birds have?

Co.
Like Peacocks, there's the head
Of all their pride.

Mop.
Nay 'tis the taile, Corymbus,
Surely these things you call the Lady-birds
Are the true birds of Paradice!

Enter Corymbus's carriages.
Co.
Very right—
Mopsus, I cannot stay, I must attend
My carriage to the Temple: gentle Mopsus
Farewell!

Exit.
Mop.
Farewell Corymbus! By my troth
I never long'd for any thing in my life
So much as Lady-birds; dainty Lady-birds!
I would fetch one of them; but I dare not travell
For fear I catch the wisdome. O sweet Lady-birds!
With copple crownes, and wings but on one side!
And tailes like Peacocks! curious Lady-birds!

Scen. 4.

Amyntas. Vrania. Amaryllis. manet Mopsus.
Amyn.
That which I have not, may not, cannot have!—
It is the moone! Vrania, thou shalt weare
The horned Goddesse at thy beauteous eare.
—Come hither Pegasus, I will mount thy back,
And spurre thee to her orbe.

Mop.
Oh good Amyntas!

Amyn.
—Why, art thou foundred Pegasus? Amaryllis,
Fetch him a peck of provender.

Vra.
Sweet Amyntas!

Amy.
What saies my Cytherea? wouldst thou eat
A golden Apple? if thou wilt, by Venus
I'le rob th'Hesperian Orchard.

Mop.
Ha ha he!

Amyn.
Ha? dost thou laugh old Charon? sirrah sculler,
Prepare thy boat!

Ama.
For what? deere brother speake!

Amyn.
Art thou my sister Helen? were we hatchd
In the same egshell?—Is your cock-boat ready?

Mop.
It is, an't please your Worship.

Amyn.
Very well!
Row me to hell!—no faster? I will have thee
Chain'd unto Pluto's gallies!

Vra.
Why to hell,
My deere Amyntas?

Amy.
Why? to borrow mony!

Ama.
Borrow there?

Amy.
I there! they say there be more Vsurers there
Then all the world besides:—see how the windes
Rise! Puffe—puffe Boreas.—what a cloud comes yonder?
Take heed of that wave Charon! ha? give mee
The oares!—so so: the boat is overthrown,
Now Charons drown'd: but I will swim to shore—

Vra.
O Ceres, now behold him! can thy eyes
Looke on so sad an object, and not melt
Them and thy heart to pitty?

Ama.
How this greefe
Racks my tormented soule? but the neglect
Of Damon more afflicts mee: the whole Senate
Of heaven decrees my ruine.

Vra.
And mine too.
Come Amaryllis let's weepe both together,
Contending in our sorrowes!

Ama.
Would to Ceres
That I were dead!

Vra.
And I had nere been borne!

Ama.
Then had not I been wretched!

Vra.
Then Amyntas
Might have been happy.

Mop.
Nay if you begin
Once to talke wisely, 'Tis above high time,
That I were gone: farewell Bellerophon!
I must goe seek my Thestylis; shee's not here.

Exit.
Amy.
My armes are weary;—now I sinke I sinke!
Farewell Vrania.—

Ama.
Alas what strange distraction,
Tosse his distemperd braine!

Vra.
Yet still his love to me
Lives constant.

Amy.
Styx I thank thee! That curld wave
Hath tos'd mee on the shore—come Sysiphus.
I'le rowle thy stone a while: mee thinkes this labour
Doth looke like Love! does it not so, Tysiphone?

Ama.
Mine is that restlesse toile.

Amy.
I'st so, Erynnis?
You are an idle huswife, goe and spin
At poore Ixions wheele!

Vra.
Amyntas.

Amyn.
Ha?
Am I known here?

Vra.
Amyntas, deere Amyntas—

Amyn.
Who calls Amyntas? beauteous Proserpine?
Tis shee.—Fair Empresse of th'Elysian shades,
Ceres bright daughter intercede for mee,
To thy incensed mother: prithee bid her
Leave talking riddles, wilt thou?

Vra.
How shall I
Apply my selfe to his wild passions!

Ama.
Seeme to be
What he conceives you.

Amy.
Queene of darknesse,
Thou supreme Lady of eternall night,
Grant my petitions! wilt thou beg of Ceres
That I may have Vrania?

Vra.
Tis my praier,
And shall be ever, I will promise thee
Shee shall have none but him.

Amyn.
Thankes Proserpine!

Vra.
Come sweet Amyntas, rest thy troubled head
Here in my lap:—Now here I hold at once
My sorrow and my comfort: Nay ly still.

Amyn.
I will: but Proserpine—

Vra.
Nay, good Amyntas.—

Amy.
Should Pluto chance to spy me, would not hee
Be jealous of me?

Vran.
No.

Amy.
Tysiphone,
Tell not Vrania of it, least she feare
I am in love with Proserpine: doe not Fury!

Ama.
I will not.

Vra.
Pray ly still!

Amy.
You Proserpine,
There is in Sicilie the fairest Virgin
That ever blest the land, that ever breath'd,
Sweeter then Zephyrus! didst thou never heare
Of one Vrania?

Vr.
Yes.

Amy.
This poore Vrania
Loves an unfortunate sheapheard, one that's mad, Tysiphone,
Canst thou believe it? Elegant Vrania
(I cannot speak it without teares) still loves
Amyntas, the distracted mad Amyntas.
I'st not a constant Nymph?—But I will goe
And carry all Elysium on my back,
And that shall be her joynture.

Vra.
Good Amyntas,
Rest here a while!—

Amy.
Why weepe you Proserpine?

Vr.
Because Vrania weepes to see Amyntas
So restlesse and unquiet.

Amy.
Does shee so?
Then will I ly as calme as doth the Sea,
When all the winds are lock'd in Æolus jayle:
I will not move a haire, not let a nerve
Or Pulse to beat, least I disturbe her! Hush,—
Shee sleepes!

Vra.
And so doe you.

Amy.
You talk too loud,
You'l waken my Vrania:

Vra.
If Amyntas,
Her deere Amyntas would but take his rest,
Vrania could not want it.

Amy.
Not so loud!

Ama.
What a sad paire are wee?

Vra.
How miserable?
Hee that I love is not!—

Ama.
And he that I
Doe love, loves not; or, if he love, not mee.

Vra.
I have undone Amyntas!

Ama.
And my Damon
Has undone me.

Vr.
My kindnesse ruin'd him.

Ama.
But his unkindnesse, me; unhappy me!

Vra.
More wretched I, for Damon has his reason,
And he may love.

Ama.
But does not: thy Amyntas
Returnes thee mutuall love.

Vra.
True, Amaryllis,
But he has lost his reason; mine has love,
No reason.

Ama.
Mine has reason, but no love.
O mee!

Vra.
My Amaryllis, how thy griefes
Meete full with mine to make the truest story
Of perfect sorrow that ere eye bedew'd
With teares of Pitty!

Ama.
Come Vrania:
Let's sit together like two marble monuments
Of ever weeping misery—

Enter Damon.
Da.
Minds in love,
Doe count their daies by minutes, measure howres
By every sand that drops through the slow glasse;
And for each vie a teare.

Ama.
If so, my Damon,
How many times hath thy unkindnesse ruin'd
Sad Amaryllis? every frowne is mortall.

Dam.
Ill luck, to seeke my love and finde my hate!

Ama.
Be not so cruell to mee! Gentle Damon,
—Accept this witnesse of my love, it is
The story of poore Echo, that for love
Of her Narcissus pin'd into a voice.

Da.
Doe thou so too!

Ama.
Damon, suppose I should,
And then the Gods for thy contempt of mee
Should plague thee like Narcisus.

Da.
Amaryllis,
They cannot doe it: I have fixt my love
So firme on my Laurinda, that for her
I e're shall hate my selfe?

Ama.
—Prithee love accept it,
'Twas wrought by mine own hand

Da.
For that I hate it!

Vra.
Fy Brother, can you be of the same stock,
Issue, and bloud with mee, and yet so cruell?

Da.
Nor can I, sister, dote like you on any
That is the cursed brat of Lalage.

Amy.
Saist thou so Centaure?—

Vra.
Good Amyntas hold,
This is the Sacred Vally: here 'tis death,
For to shed human blood.

Da.
Still idly you complaine
To crosse mee, Amaryllis, but in vaine!

Exit.
Ama.
O, I am sick to death!

Amy.
What a brave show
The monsters braines would make?

Scen. 5.

Thestylis. Mopsus. Amyntas. Amaryllis. Vrania.
Ama.
My griefe o're weighs me!

The.
How fares my Amaryllis?

Ama.
Like a Taper
Allmost burnt out: sometimes all a darknesse,
And now and then a flash or two of comfort,
But soone blown out againe. Ah Thestylis,
I cannot long subsist. For thee vain's labour;
Away! I hate thee cause my Damon does,
And for that reason too I hate my selfe,
And every thing but him!

Vra.
Come my sad partner,
Poore rivall of my sorrowes: Goe with mee
Into the Temple; I'le intreat my Brother
To use thee kindly: if in mee it lye,
I'le helpe thee.

Ama.
Doe Vrania, or I dye.

Exeunt Vrania, Amaryl. Amyntas. Thestylis. Mopsus.
The.
What a strange thing is Love!

Amy.
It is a madnesse:
See how it stares?—Have at thee thou blind Archer!
—O I have mist him!—now I'le stand thee Cupid!
Looke how the rascall winkes a one eye, Thestylis!
Nay draw your arrow home boy! just i'th heart!
—O I am slaine!

Thest.
Amyntas.

Amy.
Dost not see?
My blood runs round about mee, I lye soaking
In a red Sea, take heed! see Thestylis,
What a fine Crimson 'tis?

Mop.
Where?

Amy.
Here you puppet!
Dost thou not see it?

Mop.
Yes I see it playne,
But I spy nothing.

Amy.
Then thou art a mole.

Mop.
Now I looke better on't, I see it plaine;
Does it not not hurt you?

Amy.
Strangely! Have at thee—
How think you now?

The.
Be quiet good Amyntas.

Mop.
You'l fright away the birds else, and clean spoile
My augury.
Amyn, Goe about it, I am quiet!

Mop.
Now for some happy Omen!

a Cuckoe Cries.
Amy.
Ha, ha, he!

Mop.
Why laughs the madman?

Amy.
Who can choose but laugh?
The bird cried Hornes!

The.
What happinesse portends it,
Sweet Mopsus?

Mop.
Constancy in Love, my Thestylis,
This bird is alwaies in a note.

The.
Most excellent.

Mop.
Bird of the spring I thank thee! Mopsus thanks thee.

Amy.
This is a man of skill, an Oedipus,
Apollo, Reverent Phœbus, Don of Delphos.

Mop.
What a brave man am I?

Amy.
Thou canst resolve
By thy great Art all questions: What is that,
That which I have not, may not, cannot have?

Mop.
That which you have not, may not, cannot have?
It is my skill, you cannot have my skill.

Amy.
Where lies that skill?

Mop.
Lies? here within this noddle.

Amy.
Fetch me my wood-knife I will cut it off,
And send it to Vrania for a dowry.

Mop.
No, no I am deceiv'd, it is not that.

Amy.
You dolt, you asse, you cuckoe:

Mop.
Good Amyntas.

Scen. 6.

Dorylas. Mopsus. Iocastus. Thestylis. Amyntas.
Io.
Ist not a brave sight Dorylas? can the mortalls
Caper so nimbly!

Dor.
Verily they cannot!

Io.
Does not King Oberon beare a stately presence?
Mab is a beauteous Empresse.

Do.
Yet you kiss'd her
With admirable courtship.

Io.
I doe think
There will be of Iocastus brood in Fairy.

Mop.
You Cuckold-maker, I will tell King Oberon
You lye with Mab his wife!

Io.
Doe not good brother,
And I'le wooe Thestylis for thee.

Mop.
Doe so then.

Io.
Canst thou love Mopsus, mortall?

The.
Why suppose
I can sir, what of that?

Io.
Why then be wise,
And love him quickly!

Mop.
Wise? then I'le have none of her, that's the way
To get wise children, 'troth and I had rather
They should be bastards.

Amy.
No, the children may
Be like the Father.

Io.
True distracted Mortall:
Thestylis, I say love him hee's a foole.

Dor.
But we will make him rich, then 'tis no matter.

The.
But what estate shall he assure upon mee?

Io.
A Royall joynture all in Fairy land.

Amy.
Such will I make Vrania!

Io.
Dorylas knowes it,
A curious Parke.

Do.
Pal'd round about with Pick-teeth.

Io.
Besides a house made all of mother of Pearle;
An Ivory Teniscourt.

Dor.
A nutmeg Parlour.

Io.
A Saphyre dary-roome.

Do.
A Ginger hall.

Io.
Chambers of Agate.

Do.
Kitchins all of Christall.

Am.
O admirable! This is it for certaine!

Io.
The jacks are gold.

Do.
The spits are Spanish needles.

Io.
Then there be walkes

Do.
Of Amber.

Io.
Curious orchards.

Do.
That bear as well in winter as in summer.

Io.
Bove all the fishponds! every pond is full,

Do.
Of Nectar: will this please you? every grove
Stor'd with delightfull birds.

Mop.
But be there any
Lady-birds there.

Io.
Abundance.

Mop.
And Cuckoes too
To presage constancy?

Do.
Yes.

The.
Nay then lets in
To seale the writings.

Amy.
There boy, so, ho, ho.

Exeunt.
Do.
What pretty things are these both to be borne
To Lands and Livings, we poore witty knaves,
Have no inheritance but Braines:—who's this?
Enter Alexis.
—One of my Mistresse beagles.

Ale.
Dorylas,
I have had the bravest sport.

Do.
In what, Alexis?

Al.
In hunting, Dorylas: a brace of Grayhounds cours'd a stag
With equall swiftnesse till the wearied deere,
Stood bay at both alike: the fearfull doggs
Durst neither fasten.

Do.
So, and did not you
Compare the stag to my fair mistresse? ha!
Pursued by you and Damon, caught by neither?

Ale.
By Cupid th'art i'th right.

Dor.
Alas poore whelpes,
In troth I pitty you! Why such a hunting
Have we had here: Two puppies of a litter,
Mopsus and wise Iocastus hunting folly
With a full mouth.

Alex.
I much wonder, Dorylas,
Amyntas can be sad, having such follies
To provoke mirth.

Do.
And to that end his sister
Keepes them about him; but in vaine, his Melancholy
Has took so deepe impression.

Enter Damon.
Da.
My Alexis
Well met, I'ave been at your cottage to seeke you.

Alex.
But I am ne're at home; Thou and I, Damon,
Are absent from our selves.

Do.
Excellent application!
To see the wit of love!

Da.
Let us goe seeke her,
To have a finall judgement.

Alex.
That may end
One of our miseries, and the others life!

Do.
O lamentable! who would be in love?

Da.
Content.

Scen. 7.

Laurinda. Dorylas. Alexis. Damon.
Da.
Here comes my joy or death.

Do.
O pittifull!

Al.
My sweet affliction.

Do.
Pittifully sweet!
Nere feare your father, Mistresse, kisse securely,
I'le be your Mercury, and charme a sleepe
Old Argus.

Lau.
Doe.

Do.
But if he chance to spy
You and your sweet-hearts here, I know not of it.

Lau.
You doe not!

Do.
Nay you know if I had seene them,
I should have told him.

Lau.
Y'are a trusty servant.

Do.
Poore Dorylas is blind, he sees not here
Damon, no nor Alexis.

Lau.
No not hee!

Do.
Alack I am innocent: if the belly swell
I did not fetch the poyson.

Lau.
No, begone.

Exit Dorylas.
Da.
Laurinda now for mercy sake give period
To our long miseries.

Alex.
Now you are like cruell
To both, and play the tyrant equally,
On him you hate as much as him you love.

Da.
Depriving one the comfort of his joy.

Ale.
The other the sure remedy of his death!

Lau.
Damon you have a Love, fair Amaryllis,
Content your selfe with her.

Da.
I'le rather kisse
An Ethiops crisped lip: imbrace a Viper!
Deformity it selfe to her is fair.

Al.
Damon thou hast thy answer.

Lau.
And Alexis,
There be in Sicilie many Virgins more
Worthy your choice: why did you plac't on mee?
Goe seeke some other.

Alex.
O those words to me
Are Poyson.

Da.
But to me an Antidote.

Al.
Thus she gave life to me to tak't away:

Da.
And me she slew to raise me up againe:
You shall not slight us thus, what doe you thinke
Of mee?

Lau.
Thou art the glory of the woods.

Alex.
And what am I?

Lau.
The pride of all the Plaines.

Ale.
These your ambiguous termes have now too oft
Deluded us.

Da.
Shew by some signe which of us
You have design'd for happinesse.

Lau.
So I will.
Shee takes Damon's Garland and weares it on her own head: and puts her own on Alexis.
Damon, as I affect thee, so I vow
To wear this Garland that adornes thy brow.
This wreath of flowres, Alexis, which was mine
Because thou lov'st me truly, shall be thine.
This is plain dealing; let not Cupid's warres
Drive your affections to uncivill jarres!

Exit.
Da.
Now happy Damon shee thy Garland weares
That holds thy heart chain'd in her golden haires!

Alex.
Most blessed I! this Garland once did twine
About her head that now imbraces mine.

Dam.
Desist Alexis, for shee deignes to have
The Garland that was mine.

Alex.
But me she gave
That which was hers.

Da.
Tis more to take then give.

Alex.
I think 'tis greater kindnesse to receive.

Da.
By this your share's the lesse, you but receive.

Al.
And by your argument, yours you did but give!
Love is the Garland.

Da.
Then shee did approve
Of my affection best, shee took my love.

Ale.
Fond Damon, she accepted love frō thee,
But what is more, she gave her love to mee;
In giving that to mee, she proves my right.

Do.
Why took she mine, but meaning to requite?

Alex.
I will dispute no more.

Da.
Then let our speares
Plead for us,

Alex.
And determine of our feares.
Come Damon, by this argument let us prove,
Which tis of us Laurinda best doth love.

Da.
Yet tis, Alexis, clean against our oath.

Ale.
True, Damon, and perchance may ruine both!

Da.
So neither shall enjoy her.

Ale.
Cruell breath!
Besides this is the Sacred Vale, tis death
To staine the hallowed grasse but with one drop
Of humane blood.

Da.
So both should loose their hope!

Ale.
And which is more, 'tis against her commands.

Da.
Whose every breath has powre to stay our hands.

Ale.
Wee'l have her answer make a certain end.

Da.
Till then, Alexis, let me be thy friend.

Ale.
Come Damon, lets together seeke reliefe.

Da.
Tis fit, being Rivalls both in love and griefe.