 | Amyntas |  |
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.
27
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.
28
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
29
Court one another, and in wanton dalliance
Returne such innocent kisses, you'd have thought
You had seene Turtles billing.
| Amyntas | |