University of Virginia Library

Actvs 3.

Scen 1.

Damon. Alexis. Laurinda.
Dam.
Laurinda , by thy selfe, the sweetest oath
That can be sworn,

Ale.
By those faire eyes, whose light
Comfort my soule;

Dam.
Whose heat inflameth mine;

Ale.
Vnlesse you deigne at length to end our strife,

Da.
We both have vow'd to sacrifice our life,

Ale.
On one anothers speare.

Lau.
What shall I doe?
I find an equall warre within my soule,
My selfe divided; now I would say Damon,
Another time Alexis, then againe
Damon, and then Alexis: like a sheapheard
That sees on either hand a ravenous wolfe,
One snatching from his ewe a tender Lamb,
The other watching for a gentle Kid,
Knowes not poore soule which hand to turne to first.
Now he would save his Lamb; but seeing his Kid
Halfe in the jaw of death, turnes back in hast
To rescue that, where viewing then his Lamb
In greater danger, runs to that again;
As doubtfull which to save as which to loose:
So fares it now with me. But love instruct mee!

Da.
Resolve.

Ale.
Or wee'l resolve.

Lau.
No trick left yet?

Enter Dorylas.
Dor.
If ever one was pepper'd looke on mee!

Lau.
Why whats the matter?

Do.
You talke of Love and Cupid,
I have been plagu'd with a whole swarme of Cupids.

Ale.
what should this meane?

Do.
I know not, but I am sure
I have a thousand naturall rapiers
Stick in my flesh!

Da.
The meaning of the riddle?

Ale.
The morall?

Do.
In plain tearmes I have been driving
One of your swarmes of Bees, gentle Laurinda;

Lau.
The purest waxe give Damon: and, good swaine,
The hony to Alexis: This is plain.

Do.
Now will the hony and the wax fall together by th'eares.

Da.
Alexis, this plain signe confirmes her grant,
She gave me waxe to seale the covenant.

Do.
Well argu'd for the waxe, now for the hony.

Ale.
To me she gave the hony, that must be
The sweetest, and the sweetest sweet is shee.

Do.
The hony is the sweeter argument.

Da.
But by the waxe she saies that she from none
But mee will take true loves impression.

Do.
The waxe is very forward to the bargain;
He would be sealing of her.

Ale.
But plain the hony speakes, no other guest
But I, shall tast in her a lovers feast.

Do.
Delicious reason, my mouth waters at it,

Dam.
The waxe must make the Taper that must light
The wedded paire to bed on Hymen's night:
Besides 'tis virgins waxe, by that you see
To me she destinies her virginity.

Do.
Two excellent twin-arguments borne at a birth.

Ale.
And hony shewes a wedding; that must knead
A cake for Hymen ere we goe to bed.
Take you the waxe; the hony is for mee,
There is no hony in the world but shee.

Dor.
His disputation still has some good relish in't.

Da.
I see, Alexis, all Laurinda's bees
Serve but to sting us both.

Dor.
Now, what's the matter?
The morall?

Lau.
See what 'tis to live a maid!
Now two at once doe serve us and adore,
Shee that weds one, serves him, serv'd her before.

Da.
Alexis come!

Al.
Come Damon!

Da.
Cure my feare.

Al.
There's no helpe left but in a Pelian speare!

Lau.
O stay your hands, for by my maidenhead;—

Dor.
Happy the man shall quit her of that oath.

Ale.
Most happy Dorylas!

Do.
I knew that before!

Lau.
I have protested never to disclose
Which 'tis that best I love: But the first Nymph,
As soone as Titan guilds the Easterne hills,
And chirping birds, the Saints-bell of the day,
Ring in our eares a warning to devotion.
That lucky damsell what so e're she be
Shall be the Goddesse to appoint my love,
To say, Laurinda this shall be your choice:
And both shall sweare to stand to her award!

Both.
By fair Laurinda's hand we swear.

Lau.
Till then
Be friends, and for this night it is my pleasure
You sleep like friendly Rivalls arme in arme.

Both.
Thankes to the fair Laurinda!

Al.
Come Damon, you this night with me shall rest.

Da.
Wert thou but my Laurinda I were blest.

Exeunt Damon. Alexis.
Dor.
Mistresse, if they should dreame now.—

Lau.
And they should?

Scen. 2.

Amaryllis. Vrania. Doryllis. Laurinda.
Vra.
Sweet Amaryllis!

Ama.
Stay me not Vrania!

Do.
More Cupids, more bees, more stinging yet!

Ama.
Dishevel'd haire, poore ornament of the head
I'le teare you from my crowne! what dost thou here?
Weake chaines! my pride presum'd you had a powre
To fetter Heroes! and in amorous Gives
Lead any sheapheard captive!

Vra.
Amaryllis.

Ama.
But Damon breakes thee like a spiders loome!
And thou poore face that wer't so oft beli'de
For fair and beauteous, by my flattering glasse;
I'le teare those crimson roses from my cheekes,
That but my selfe nere yet inchanted any.
My will is fixt!

Lau.
Where goe you, Amaryllis?

Ama.
Since Damon hates my life I'le goe and see
If I can please him in my death: if hee'le but deigne
To kisse me, and accept my latest breath,
I shall salute the Gods a happy soule.
—This dart I'le give him; and upon my knees
Beg till I have obtain'd to dye by him:
Death from that hand is welcome.

Lau.
I will shew you
A way most probable to redeeme his love.

Ama.
I shall wrong you, Laurinda! No injoy him,
The treasure of the Earth: my latest words
Shall be praiers for you: mild Vrania,
Sister in blood to Damon, not in affection,
Nymph take this whistle, 'twas a Tritons once,
With which I call my Lamb-kins when they stray;
'Tis Amaryllis last bequeathment to you.

Vra.
Live happy sheapheardesse and weare it still!

Ama.
Laurinda, my great legacy is yours,
Gentle-ungentle Damon.

Lau.
I re-bequeath him to my Amarylis:
Come therefore amorous maid, be rul'd by mee;
This night wee'le sleepe together.

Do.
And shee too
Should dreame of Damon.—

Lau.
Dorylas, goe to Thestylis
T'excuse her this nights absence, Amaryllis
Wenches are nere so witty as a bed,
And two together make a statesmans head.
—Begon to Thestylis.

Do.
So, I am sure
Still Cupids factor: well ere long I see
There will be many an heire the more for mee.

Vra.
My Bellamore y'are under good protection;
The Temple gates will close unlesse I hast.

Lau.
Vrania, a happy night unto you!

Vra.
The like to her that pitties the distressed Amaryllis.

Exeunt Lau. Ama. Vrania.
Dor.
So so, this hony with the very thought
Has made my mouth so lickorish that I must
Have something to appease the appetite.
Have at Iocastus orchard! dainty Apples,
How lovely they looke! Why these are Dorylas sweet-hearts.
Now must I be the Princely Oberon,
And in a royall humour with the rest
Of royall Fairies attendant goe in state
To rob an orchard: I have hid my robes
On purpose in a hollow tree. Heaven blesse mee!
What Pucke, what Goblins this?

Claius. Dorylas.
Cla.
Thrice Sacred Valley,
I kisse thy hallowed Earth!

Do.
Another lover,
Enamour'd of the Ground!

Cl.
Faine would I speake
And aske for Amaryllis: but my feare
Will not permit mee.

Do.
Slid; I thinke he takes mee
For Oberon already.

Cl.
Youth, can you tell mee
How I may speak to night with Amaryllis?

Da.
Age, by no meanes to night: this night shee lodges
With fair Laurinda, old Medorus daughter.

Cl.
Can you instruct me then how I may meet Amyntas?

Do.
Who, the madman? Every evening
He walkes abroad into the vallie here
With Thestylis. Farewell old walking Ivibush.

Exit Dor.
Claius solus.
Cla.
I see the smoake steame from the Cottage tops,
The fearfull huswife rakes the embers up.
All hush to bed. Sure no man will disturbe mee.
O blessed vally! I the wretched Claius
Salute thy happy soyle, I that have liv'd
Pelted with angry curses in a place
As horrid as my griefes, the Lylibæan mountaines,
These sixteene frozen winters, there have I
Beene with rude out-lawes, living by such sinnes
As runne o'th' score with justice 'gainst my prayers & wishes.
And when I would have tumbled down a rock,
Some secret powre restrain'd me: There I lately heard
By a disconsolate Pilgrim that sought death,
That my Amyntas wits (ah me!) were marr'd.
Twas not a time to thinke to save my selfe
When my poore boy was lost. Lost said I?—O Phœbus,
If there be soveraigne power in juice of hearbs,
And that the teeming earth yeeld medicinall flowres
To cure all maladies, I have sought the skill;
No leafe no root hath scap'd mee: I may boast it,
I have been natures diligent Apothecary.
Be lucky my emplaister! I have temper'd
The surest Recipe the worlds garden yeelds;
'Twould put Orestes in his wits again.
I know I step upon my death: the Oracle
Desires my blood for sacrifice, and Pilumnus
For his old hate still seekes it: make long stay
I dare not, only I desire t'apply
My medicine and be gone. Who's this I spy?

Scen. 3.

Thestylis. Amyntas. Mopsus.
The.
Would to Ceres
She would be pleas'd at length to end her anger,
And pitty poore Amyntas!

Cl.
So pray I.

Amy.
I have the bravest spaniell in the world,
Of a sharpe sent and quick. so ho ho, so ho ho!
Ringwood, Iowler, Whitefoot, so ho ho! so ho ho!

Mop.
I shall be a whole kennell of dogs anon.

Amy.
Iuno, Vulcan, Venus! so ho ho, so ho ho!

Mop.
Lord what a heavenly puppy he makes me now!

Amy.
There Lady there!

Mop.
Ha? be their Lady-dogs as well as Lady-birds too!

Amy.
Beauty, Beauty.

Mop.
Slid I was never cal'd that name before:
Thestylis, Amyntas calls me Beauty,
I prethee come kisse mee.

The.
Thus I spend my life
Laughing amidst my teares.

Amy.
Now Vertue Vertue!

Mop.
Is that a dogs name too? would I were hang'd
If I'le have any of it for that trick.

Amy.
Dost thou not sent it yet? Close, close you rogue!
By Pan the curre hunts counter.

Mop.
Oh good master! Bow wow, bow wow wow—

Amyn.
So now he has't again.
What at a fault you mungrell? will you never
Start me this Oracle?

Mop.
Start an Oracle?
As if an Oracle were a hare?

Amy.
So 'tis,
And skuds away so swift we cannot take it.
Start me this Oracle.

Mop.
Start it who's will for mee,
For I'le not start it.

Amy.
Then unkennell it.

Mop.
Vnkennell it?

Amy.
I, tis a Foxe a Foxe,
A cunning crafty rogue: no body knowes
Which way to finde him, ha? what sent is this?
Dost thou not smell?

Mop.
What?

Amy.
The meaning of the Oracle?
Vnkennell it, or I will lease thee.

Mop.
Good sir,
I have no skill in starting or unkennelling,
But if you'l have me spring an Oracle.—

Amy.
And wilt thou doe it? spring me then this Oracle!

Mop.
I that I will, my skill lies all in birds,
Whose flight I feare I have observ'd so long
That I am metamorphos'd to a spaniell.

Amy.
Looke how my hawke of understanding soares
About the Partridge Oracle!—ill luck!
Tis at retreat againe.

Mop.
O shall I never
Rid me of this misfortune! (thankes good omen)
Cras, cras she saies, to morrow 'twill be better.
A Crow cawes.
Black bird I thank thee!

Claius to them.
The.
Litle thinks the wretched Claius now
How sad a life his poore Amyntas lives!

Cl.
Too well unto his griefe.—I'le goe unto him
And follow him in his humor:—You have got
A dainty spanniell, sir.

Amy.
I think the world
Cannot afford his equall.

Cla.
What breed is hee?

Amy.
True Spartan I'le assure you.

Cl.
Was the sire
Of the same Country?

Amy.
No, as I remember
He was an Irish Grey-hound, but the damme
Came of Acteons brood.

Cl.
As how I pray?

Amy.
Why thus; Melampus was the sire of Lælaps,
Lælaps to Lagon, Lagon to Ichnobates,
Ichnobates to Pamphagus, and Pamphagus
To Dorceus, he to Labros, that was sire
To Oresitrophus, Oresitrophus
To fleet Theridamas, Theridamas
To swift Nebrophonos, Nebrophonos
To the quick-nos'd Aellus; he to Dromas,
Dromas to Tygris, Tygris to Orybasus,
Orybasus to Pterelas, he to Nape,
The damme of Mopsus.

Mop.
So then Orybasus
Was my great grandfather. Though I be a Dog,
I come of a good house. My Ancestors
Were all of Noble names past understanding.
What a brave man's my Master! where learn'd he
All this? Ne're stirre now I could find in my heart
To leave my Augury and study Heraldry;
A man I think may learn't as well as t'other,
Yet never fear of growing too wise upon't.
And then will I record the pedegree
Of all the dogs i'th' world. O that I had
The Armes of all our house by th'Mothers side!

Cl.
Sir I have brave things in a Basket for you.
Give me your Dog, and you shall have 'em all.

Amy.
Take him.

Mop.
O heavens! and shall I change my master,
One mad man for another?

Amy.
Curre be quiet,
I have said it, and my will shall be a law.

Mop.
O good sir, for Melampus sake, and Dorceus
Lælaps, Ichnobates, Lagon, Melanchetes,
Labros, Nebrophonos, Oresitrophus,
Tygris, Orybatus, Therydamas,
Aellus, Dromas, Nape, and the rest
Of all my Noble ancestors deceas'd,
Be mercifull unto me! Pitty pitty
The only hope of all our family.

Cl.
Sir, can he fetch and carry?

Amy.
You shall see him.
Fetch sirrah:—there:—the curre is runne away,
Helpe me to catch my dog: you'l bring you mungrell?

Mop.
Yes much! the birds will not advise me to it.

Exit.
The.
Sylvan why gaze you on us? would you frolike
With poore Amynta's madnes; 'twould ill beseem you
To make our griefe your pastime.

Cl.
Not I by heaven!
My joyes are counterfeit, my sorrowes reall:
(I cannot hold from weeping) ah you know not
What griefe lies here within, (teares you'l betray me!)
Give me my eye full of this noble sheapheard!
Who hath not heard how he hath chac'd the boare!
And how his speare hath torne the panch of wolves.
On th'barke of every tree his name's ingraven.
Now Planet struck, and all that vertue vanish'd.

The.
Thy lookes are fierce, thy words bespeak thee Gentle.

Amy.
Why wep't he Thestylis!

The.
I did not marke him.

Amy.
It was a mote in's eye: I'le kisse it out;
I'le curle thy shackl'd locks, and crispe thy haire
Like the streight-growing Cypresse. Come let's put
Our heads together. Thou art more then mortall,
And shal't expound to Ceres what she askes.
It is a gallant Sylvan, Thestylis.

Cl.
I am not skill'd in riddles, no interpreter
Of Divinations, but dare contend
With any Empyrick to doe a cure,
Whether the body or the minde be sick.
That is my study, I but crave the leave
To try the powre of art upon this sheapheard.
If Æsculapius be propitious to him,
After the dew of one nights softer slumbers,
I dare be bold to say he shall recover.

Amy.
My dog againe? dost read it in the starres?
What a strange man is this?

Cl.
Thy wits, Amyntas,
I meane; O cast thy armes in my embraces,
Speak carefull Nymph how came he thus distracted?

Amy.
I doe you meane? with a very-very-very mad trick.—
By making verses.

Cl.
Rest rest deluded fancy!

The.
There was a time (alas that ere it was.)
When my poore sheapheard fell in love.

Cl.
With whom?

The.
The starre of beauty, Pilumnu's much admir'd Vrania.

Cl.
O the crosse darts of fate!

The.
Shee sweet Nymph inlodged
The casket of his love in her own bosome,
But Ceres set a Dowry. Out alasse
Would shee had ask'd our flocks, our kids, our groves!
Would she had bid us quench the flames of Ætna
In Arethusa's streames, it had been easy.
We fight with words and cannot conquer them;
This her Imperious Ompha ask'd, and Thunder'd
That which thou hast not, maist not, canst not have
Amyntas, is the Dowry that I crave.
To finde out her commands, he lost himselfe.

Cl.
Your storie's pittifull: Tis my profession
To wander through the Earth, and in my Travell,
I am inquisitive after the sick to heale 'em;
Their cure and kind acceptance is my pay.
You will not fear to lodge me for a night?

The.
We have but homely hospitality.

Amy.
Ile feast thee with some Venison, brave Montano.

Cl.
Thy restitution is my feast Amyntas,
Your curdes and chestnuts and your country fare
Is bounteous for so meane a guest as I:
But send for that Vrania her sweet voice
Must sing a Lullaby to drowne his senses,
And charme soft sleepe upon his troubled phancy.
And 'fore the gray-eyd morne doe peepe, be confident
I'le put the musique of his braines in tune.

Cl.
You'l call Vrania.

The.
Doubt not sir, I will.
Or send my servant Mycon by the Vale.

Amy.
Come Sylvan, if the dogs doe barke I'le braine 'em;
Wee'l sleepe to night together, and to morrow,

Cl.
Will end I hope thy madnesse, not my sorrow.

Amy.
Wee'l goe a hunting, so ho ho! so ho ho!

Exeunt.
Mopsus from the Orchard.
Mop.
Are the mad dogs gone yet?
A little more would have perswaded mee
Into a spaniell: and I may be one
For any thing I know: yet sure I am not
Because methinkes I speake; but an this speaking
Should be but barking now: if I be a dog
Heaven send me a better Master then the former.
Ceres defend me, what strange Elves are there!

Scen. 4.

Dorylas with a Bevy of Fairies.
Dor.
How like you now my Grace? is not my countenance
Royall and full of Majesty? Walke not I
Like the young Prince of Pigmies? Ha? my knaves,
Wee'l fill our pockets. Looke looke yonder, Elves,
Would not yon apples tempt a better conscience
Then any we have to rob an Orchard? ha!
Fairies, like Nymphs with child, must have the things
They long for. You sing here a Fairy catch
In that strange tongue I taught you: while our selfe
Doe clime the Trees. Thus Princely Oberon
Ascends his throne of State.

Elves

Iocastus. Bromius.
Io.
What divine noyse fraught with immortall harmony
Salutes mine eare?

Bro.
Why this immortall Harmony
Rather salutes your Orchard: these young Rascalls,
These pescod-shalers doe so cheat my Master:
We cannot have an apple in the Orchard,
But straight some Fairy longs for't: well if I
Might have my will, a whip again should jerk h'em,
Into their old mortality:

Io.
Dar'st thou schreetch-owle
With thy rude croaking interrupt their musique;
Whose melody hath made the spheares to lay
Their heavenly lutes aside, only to listen
To their more charming notes?

Bro.
Say what you will,
I say a cudgell now were excellent Musique.

Elves.
Oberon descende citus,
Ne cogaris hinc invitus.
Canes audio latrantes,
Et mortales vigilantes.

Io.
Prince Oberon? I heard his Graces name.

Bro.
O ho: I spy his Grace! Most noble Prince
Come downe, or I will pelt your Grace with stones,
That I believe your Grace was ne're so pelted
Since 'twas a Grace.

Do.
Bold mortall, hold thy hand.

Bro.
Immortall Thiefe come down, or I will fetch you:
Methinks it should impaire his Graces honour
To steale poore mortals apples: Now have at you!

Dor.
Iocastus, we are Oberon, and we thought
That one so neere to us as you in favour,
Would not have suffer'd this prophane rude groome
Thus to impaire our royaltie.

Io.
Gracious Prince,
The fellow is a foole, and not yet purged
From his mortalitie.

Do.
Did we out of love
And our intire affection, of all Orchards
Chuse your's to make it happy by our dances,
Light ayry measures, and fantastique rings!
And you ingratefull mortall thus requites us.
All for one Apple!

Io.
Villaine th'hast undone me:
His Grace is much incens'd.

Do.
You know, Iocastus,
Our Grace have Orchards of our owne more precious
Then mortals can have any: And we sent you
A Present of them t'other day.

Io.
'Tis right,
Your Graces humble servant must acknowledge it.

Bro.
Some of his owne I am sure.

Do.
I must confesse
Their outside look'd something like yours indeed;
But then the tast more relish'd of eternitie,
The same with Nectar.

Io.
Your good Grace is welcome
To any thing I have: Nay, Gentlemen
Pray doe not you spare neither:

Elves.
Ti-ti-ta-te.

Io.
What say these mighty peeres, great Oberon?

Do.
They cannot speake this language, but in ours
They thank you, and they say they will have none,

Elves.
Ti-ti-ta-ti-Tititatie

Io.
What say they now?

Do.
They doe request you now
To grant them leave to dance a Fayry ring
About your servant, and for his offence
Pinch him: doe you the while command the traitour
Not dare to stirre, not once presume to mutter.

Io.
Traytour, for so Prince Oberon deignes to call thee,
Stirre not, nor mutter.

Bro.
To be thus abus'd!

Io.
Ha? mutter'st thou?

Bro.
I have deserved better.

Io.
Still mutter'st thou?

Bro.
I see I must endure it.

Io.
Yet mutter'st thou? Now Noble Lords begin
When it shall please your honours.

Do.
Ti ti ta tie.
Our noble freind permits, Tititatie:
Doe you not sir?

Io.
How should I say I doe?

Do.
Ti ti ta tie.

Io.
Ti ti ta tie my Noble Lords.

Elves.
Quoniam per te violamur
Vngues hic experiamur.
Statim dices tibi datam
Cutem valde variatam.

They dance.
Io.
Tititatie to your Lordships for this excellent musick

Bro.
This 'tis to have a coxcombe to on's master.

Io.
Still mutter'st thou?

Exit Bromius.
Dorylas
from the tree: Iocastus falls on his knees.
And rise up Sir Iocastus, our deare Knight.
Now hang the hallowed bell about his neck,
We call it a mellisonant Tingle Tangle,
(Indeed a sheep-bell stolne from's own fat wether.)
aside.
The ensigne of his knighthood. Sir Iocastus,
Wee call to mind we promis'd you long since
The President of our Dances place; we are now
Pleas'd to confirme it on you: give him there
His Staffe of Dignity.

Io.
Your Grace is pleas'd
To honour your poore leigeman.

Do.
Now begone.

Io.
Farewell unto your Grace and eke to you,
Tititatie my Noble Lords farewell.

Exit.
Dor.
Tititatie my noble foole farewell:
Now, my Nobility and honourd Lords,
Our grace is pleas'd for to part stakes; here Iocalo
These are your share; these his, and these our Graces.
Have we not gull'd him bravely! see you Rascalls,
These are the fruits of witty knavery.

Mopsus enters barking.
Dor.
Heaven shield Prince Oberon, and his honour'd Lords!
We are betraid.

Mop.
Bow wow wow.
Nay nay since you have made a sheepe of my Brother
I'le be a dog to keepe him.

Do.
O good Mopsus!

Mop.
Does not your Grace, most lowe and mighty Dorylas,
Feare whipping now?

Do.
Good Mopsus but conceale us,
And I will promise by to morrow night
To get thee Thestylis.

Mop.
I will aske leave
Of the birds first. An owle? the bird of night;
An owle shreekes.
That plainly shewes that by to morrow night,
He may performe his promise.

Do.
And I will.

Mop.
Why then I will conceale you. But your Grace
Must thinke your Grace beholding to mee.

Do.
Well:
We doe.

Mop.
And thanke the owle, she stood your friend.
And for this time my witty Grace farewell.

Do.
Nay be not so discourteous; Stay and take
An apple first: you Iocalo give him one,
And you another, and our Grace a third.

Mop.
Your Grace is liberall: But now I feare
I am not hee that must interpret th'Oracle.
My brother will prevent me, to my griefe
I much suspect it, for this Dorylas
A scarre-crow cozend him most shamefully,
Which makes me feare hee's a more foole then I.

Exit Mopsus.
Dor.
So, we are clean got off: come noble Peeres
Of Fairy, come, attend our Royall Grace.
Let's goe and share our fruit with our Queen Mab,
And th'other Dary maids: where of this theam
We will discourse amidst our Cakes and Cream.

Elves.