University of Virginia Library

Actvs 5.

Scen. 1.

Dorylas, and a Chorus of Swaines.
Dor.
Come neighbours, let's goe see the sacrifice
Must make you happy lovers: oh 'twill be
A fortunate season! Father Coridon,
You and old mother Baucis shall be friends.
The sheepe-hooke and the distaffe shall shake hands.
You lovely freeze-coats, nothing now but kissing,
Kissing and culling, culling and kissing, heighday!
In hope it will be one day so with mee
I am content to live. Now let's ascend.

Scen. 2.

Alexis. Laurinda. Medorus.
Alex.
Now my Laurinda, now (o happy now!)
All lets that stood between my joy and mee
Are gone and fled.

Lau.
Long, o too long, Alexis,
My doubtfull fancy wavered whom to love,
Damon, or you; in both was happinesse,
But double happinesse was my single misery:
So far'd it once, Alexis, (for I well
Remember it) with one of my poore ewes,
Equally mov'd between two tufts of grasse,
This tempting one way, that inticing t'other,
Now she would this, then that, then this againe,
Vntill poore foole (true embleme of her mistresse)
Shee almost starv'd in choosing which to feed on;
At last (so heaven pittied the innocent foole)
A westerne gale nipt one, which being blasted
Shee fed upon the other.

Ale.
Pretty fool! lets now no more deferre our nuptial joyes.

Med.
How sweet a folly is this love? But rash youth, Alexis,
(As youth is rash) runnes indiscreetly on
While mature judgment ripened by experience
Stayes for loves season.

Alex.
Season? why, can love
Be ever out of season?

Med.
Yes, Alexis,
Nothing's borne ripe, all things at first are greene,

Alex. Lau.
And such shall our affection still be seene.

Med.
You are to hasty reapers that doe call
For Sickles in the spring:

Alex.
Loves, harvest shall;
(Lovers you know) his harvest ought to bee
All the yeare long.

Lau.
In Cupids husbandry,
Who reapes not in the spring, reapes not at all.

Med.
Woemen indeed too soone begin their fall.
Yet till curst Claius dye, as now he must,
Alexis, and Laurinda, let my counsell
Asswage the heat of youth; pray be perswaded
A while for to deferre your nuptiall blisse;
'Tis but a while.

Alex.
A while in lov's an age.

Lau.
Maids in a while grow old.

Med.
Temper loves fire.

Alex.
'Tis but cold love that's temperate in desire.

Med.
Yet, loving paire, stay 'till a fayrer gale;
He deserves shipwrack, ('tis the Marriners flout)
And justly too, that in a storme sets out.

Lau.
I will supprsse my flame, (ah still it glowes.)

Alex.
And I, but how unwilling Cupid knowes!

Med.
Tis well; now let's goe take our place, to see
For our sad griefes a sadder remedy.

Scen. 3.

Amyntas. Amarillis.
Amar.
—Yes, it was he: hee's in the temple brother,
A place wherein he doth deserve a shrine,
Yet is to him a prison; can you Gods
Suffer the place that's reard unto your honours
Be made so vile a thing?

Amyn.
Pray give mee entrance:
I am not mad, (and yet I would I were)
Am I not mad to wish so? Let me come
And see him, sure you had your selfe a father.
Did you not wish to see him ere he died?
If he be dead: wee'l only pray a while,
And weep; will tears pollute the hallowed Ompha?
For we must shed them, yes, we cannot choose:
Come sister, he will let us, for though Lalage
Was our sad mother, yet the Gods will let us
Weepe for her: come, come Amarillis, come.

Exit.

Scen. 4.

Mopsus. Iocastus.
Iocast.
Brother, a read, what meanes his graces favour?

Mop.
It signifies you bear the bell away,
From all his Graces nobles.

Io.
Divinely Augur'd;
For this I'le make thee Augur to his grace.

Mop.
Belwether of Knight-hood, you shall bind me to you.

Io.
I'le have't no more a sheep-bell; I am Knight
Of the Mellisonant Tingletangle.

Mop.
Sure one of my progeny; tell me gratious brother,
Was this Mellisonant Tingle tangle none
Of old Actæons hounds?

Io.
Ignorant mortall,
Thou dost not understand the termes of honour.

Mop.
How should I sit, my trees bear no such apples:

Io.
As mine, th'Hesperian fruit are crabbs to mine,
Hence came the Knight-hood, hence.

Mop.
The fame where of rings loud.

Io.
We know it.

Mop.
Foure such knight-hoods more
Would make an excellent peale.

Io.
I'le have 'em so.

Mop.
But you must get a squirell too.

Io.
For what?

Mop.
To ring your Knight-hoods.

Io.
I'le have any thing,
His grace will not deny me, o sweet orchard.

Mop.
To see the fruit that came of such an orchard!

Io.
But shall we not see Claius sacrific'd?

Mop.
Oh by all meanes.

Io.
But how deserv'd he death?

Mop.
No matter for deserving it or no;
Tis fit he suffer for example sake.

Io.
And not offend?

Mop.
Tis fit he should offend.

They take their places.

Scen. 5.

Pilumnus with a sacrificing knife, fire laid on the Altar, a Priest holding a Taper ready to kindle it, another Priest powring water on Claius head, who was bound: Corymbus leading out Damon bound.
Pil.

Amyntas, Amarillis.
Amy.
Stay, stay that impious hand, whose hasty zeale
Thinks murther can appease the Goddesse wrath!
If it be murther must appease her wrath,
What is't can move her anger? Doe not then,
Doe not pollute her Altar, least it keep
The crimson staine of bloud, and blush for ever,
At this too cruell, ignorant devotion.

Pil.
Avoid the mad man.

Amyn.
Why Pilumnus, Why?
By the dread Ompha, spare this guilty blood,
And I'le expound the Oracle.

Amyn.
What fire has yet his bloud or quench't or kindled?

Pil.
Why it hath quencht the sadder flames of love,
And more auspitious fires begin to move.

Amyn.
Where? in what brest? No love in all Trinacria
But under Cupids scepter faints and groanes
More now then ever. Thy unfortunate Damon,
And more unfortunate Amarillis stand
A sad example; Thy Vrania
(O sad sweet name!) may with her poore Amintas
Witnesse his tyrannous reigne: here in Sicilia
Turtles grow jealous, Doves are turn'd unchast,
The very Pellicans of Trinacrean woods
Are found unnaturall, and thirst the bloud
Of their young brood, (alas who can believe it?)
Whom they were wont to suckle with their own.
O wretched season! Bitter fruits of love!
The very Storks with us are Parricides.
Nay even the senselesse trees are sensible
Of this imperious rage: the gentle Vine
(The happy embleme once of happier Lovers)
That with such amorous twines, and close imbraces
Did cling about the loved-loving elme,
With slacker branches now falls down and withers:
If then to adde more fuell to the flame,
To powre in oyle and sulphure be to quench it,
The flame is quench'd. Nor are you hee, Pilumnus,
That must expound the Oracle, 'Tis a witt
Such as mine is neglected, that must hit
The Goddesse meaning: you, the living Oracle
Of Sicilie, the breathing Ompha of the Kingdome
Will misconceive the Goddesse; you are wise
Skil'd in the vertues of all herbs, and flowers,
What makes our Ewes can best, what keeps thē sound;
Can tell us all the mysteries of heaven,
The number, height, and motion of the starres;
Tis a mad brain, an intellect, you scorne
That must unty this riddle.

Pil.
But I know
The wrath of Ceres cannot be appeas'd
But by the bloud of Claius.

Amy.
So it is.

Pil.
How can that bee? yet his accursed gore
Hath not imbru'd the Altar.

Amyn.
But his bloud
Hath been already shed in Amarillis:
Shee is his bloud, so is Vrania yours,
And Damon is your bloud; That is the bloud
The Goddesse aimes at, that must still her ire,
For her bloud hath both quench't and kindled fire.

Pil.
What hath it quencht or kindled?

Amyn.
Love, the fire
That must be quench't and kindled. Damons love
To his Laurinda in that bloud extinguish'd,
Is by that powerfull bloud kindled anew
To Amarillis, now grown his desire:
Thus Claius bloud hath quench't and kindled fire.

All.
Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas.

Pil.
And is the fire of my Damon kindled
But to be quench't againe: Ceres! a frost
Dwell on thy Altars, ere my zeale renew
Religious fires to warme 'em.

Amyn.
Spare these blasphemies,
For Damon is acquitted & assoil'd
Of any trespasse.

Pil.
How Amyntas? speake!
Thou that hast sav'd a Father, save a sonne.

Amyn.
Thus, Amarillis is the Sacrifice
The Goddesse aim'd at: and the bloud of Sacrifice
(As you all know) may lawfully be spilt
Even in the Holy vale, and so it was;
Besides your Damon is a Priest by birth,
And therefore by that Title, he may spill
The sacrifized Amarillis bloud.
If this interpretation be not true,
Speak you Sicilians, I'le be judg'd by you.

All.
Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas, Amyntas.

Pil.
Amyntas, thou hast now made full amends
For my Philebus death; Claius all envy,
Envy the viper of a venemous soule
Shall quit my brest: This is the man, Sicilians,
The man to whom you owe your liberties;
Goe Virgins, and with Roses strow his way,
Crowne him with violets, and lilly wreathes;
Cut off your golden tresses, and from them
Weave him a robe of love: Damon, pay here
The debt of duty that thou ow'st to mee;
Hence was thy second birth.

Da.
Or hither rather:
The Balsame of Sicilia flowed from hence,
Hence from this scarlet torrent, whose each drop
Might ransome Cupid were he captive tane.

Amaril.
How much owe I my Damon, whose blest hand
Made mee the publique sacrifice! could I shed
As many drops of blood, even from the heart,
As Arethusa drops of water can,
I would outvie her at the fullest tide,
That other Virgins loues might happy be,
And mine my Damon be as blest in thee.

Clai.
O what a showre of joy falls from mine eyes!
The now too fortunate Claius! my Amyntas,
My Amarillis, how shall I divide
My teares and joyes betwixt you!

Pil.
Lovers come,
Come all with flowry chaplets on your browes,
And singing Hymmes to Ceres, walk around
This happy village; to expresse our glee
This day each yeare shall Cupids triumphs bee.

Amyn.
Still my impossible Dowry for Vrania
Leaves mee unfortunate in the mid'st of joy;
Yet out of piety I will heere a while
(Though blest I am not 'till she be my bride)
In publique joyes lay private griefes aside.

Exeunt cum Choro cantantium.
Io.
And I'le goe fetch the youngsters of the towne,
The mortall Fairies, and the lasses browne,
To bring spic'd cakes, and ale, to dance and play,
Queen Mab her selfe shall keepe it holy-day.

Exit.
Mop.
Ah Dorilas that I could not have the wit
To have been a mad man rather then a foole.
I have lost the credit.

Dor.
Tis no matter
You shall have Thestylis,

Mop.
Shall I, Dorylas,
I had as live interpret her as Oracles.

Dor.
And here she comes, give mee your quaile pipe, harke you.—

Exit.
Enter Thestylis.
Mop.
Now, Thestylis, thou shalt mine Oracle bee,
Hence forth I will interpret none but thee.

Thes.
Why haue the birds (my Mopsus) councel'd so?

Mop.
They say I must, whether you will or noe.

Thes.
How know I that?

Mop.
The birds doe speak it plain.
Dorilas with a quaile pipe.
Harke, Thestylis, the birds say so again.

Thes.
I understand them not.

Mop.
Will you be judg'd
By th'next we meet?

Thes.
Mopsus, I am content,
So you will stand unto it as well as I.

Mop.
By Ceres, Thestylis, most willingly.

Enter Dorylas.
Mop.
Ah Dorilus, heard you what the birds did say?

Dor.
I Mopsus, you are a happy man to day.

Mop.
What said they boy?

Dor.
As if you did not know.

Mop.
But Thestylis.

Dor.
Why sure she understands it,
Have you to her this language never read?

Mop.
No, Dorylas, I can teach her best in bed.

Dor.
The Birds said twice: (as you full well doe know)
You must have Thestylis whether she will or no.

Thes.
And am I caught? Tis no great matter though;
For this time Mopsus I will marry thee;
The next I wed, by Pan, shall wiser bee!

Mop.
And have I got thee? thankes my witty boy.

Do.
Harke, Thestylis, the birds doe bid you joy.

Thes.
For fooling Mopsus, now 'tis time give ore.

Mop.
Mad man I may, but will be foole no more.

Thes.
Mad after marriage as a foole before.
For hee's a foole that weds, all wives being bad;
And shee's a foole makes not her husband mad.

Scen. 6.

Iocastus with a Morrice, himselfe maid Marrian, Bromius the Clowne.
Dor.
See, Mopsus, see, here comes your Fairy brother,
Hark you, for one good turne deserves another.

Exeunt Dor. Mop.
Iocast.
I did not think there had been such delight
In any mortall Morrice, they doe caper
Like quarter Fairies at the least: by my Knight-hood,
And by this sweet Mellisonant Tingle tangle,
The ensigne of my glory, you shall bee
Of Oberons Revels.

Bro.
What to doe I pray?
To dance away your Apples.

Iocas.
Surely mortall,
Thou art not fit for any office there.

Enter Dorylas like the King of Fairies. Mopsus.
Io.
See, blind mortall, see,
With what a port, what grace, what majesty
This princely Oberon comes, your Grace is welcome.

Do.
A beauteous Lady, bright, and rare,
Queen Mab her selfe is not so faire.

Io.
Does your grace take me for a woman then?

Do.
Yes beauteous virgin; Thy each part
Has shot an arrow through my heart;
Thy blazing eye, thy lip so thinne,
Thy azure cheek, & christall chinne,
Thy rainbow brow, with many a rose;
Thy saphyre eares, and ruby nose,
All wound my soule, O gentle be
Or Lady you will ruin mee.

Io.
Bromius, what shall I doe? I am no woman!
If geelding of me will preserve your grace,
With all my heart.

Bro.
No master, let him rather
Steale away all your orchard Apples.

Io.
I and shall,
Beauteous Queen Mab may loose her longing else.

Do.
How's this? are you no woman then?
Can such bright beauty live with men?

Io.
An't please your grace I am your Knight Iocastus.

Do.
Indeed I thought no man but hee
Could of such perfect beauty bee.

Io.
Cannot your Grace distill me to a woman.

Do.
I have an hearb, they Moly call,
Can change thy shape (my sweet) and shall.
To tast this Moly but agree,
And thou shalt perfect woman bee.

Io.
With all my heart; nere let me move
But I am up to th'eares in love.
But what if I doe marry thee?

Do.
My Queene Iocasta thou shalt bee.

Io.
Sweet Moly! pray let Bromius have some Moly too,
Hee'l make a very pretty waiting maid.

Bro.
No indeed forsooth, you have Ladies enough already.

Do.
Halfe your estate then give to mee,
Else, you being gone, there none will be,
Whose Orchard I dare here frequent.

Io.
Sweet Oberon, I am content.

Do.
The other halfe let Mopsus take.

Io.
And Thestylis a joynture make.

Bro.
Why master, are you mad?

Io.
Your mistrisse sirrah.
Our grace has said it, and it shall be so.

Bro.
What, will you give away all your estate?

Io.
We have enough beside in Fairy land.
You Thestylis shall be our maid of honour.

Thes.
I humbly thank your Grace.

Io.
Come Princely Oberon,
I long to tast this Moly: pray bestow
The Knight-hood of the Mellisonant Tingle tangle,
Vpon our brother Mopsus, we will raise
All of our house to honours.

Mop.
Gracious sister!

Io.
I alwaies thought I was borne to be a Queene.

Do.
Come let us walke, majestique Queene,
Of Fairy mortalls to be seene.
In chaires of Pearle thou plac't shalt bee,
And Empresses shall envy thee,
When they behold upon our throne
Iocasta with her—Dorilas.

All.
Ha, ha, ha!

Io.
Am I deceiv'd and cheated, guld and foold?

Mop.
Alas sir you were borne to be a Queene.

Io.
My lands, my livings, and my orchard gone?

Dor.
Your grace hath said it, and it must be so.

Bro.
You have enough beside in Fairy land.

Thes.
What would your Grace command your maid of honour?

Dor.
Well I restore your lands: only the orchar'd
I will reserve for fear Queen Mab should long.

Mop.
Part I'le restore unto my liberall sister
In leiw of my great Knighthood.

Thes.
Part give I.

Io.
I am beholding to your liberality.

Bro.
I'le some thing give as well as doe the rest,
Take my fooles coat, for you deserve it best.

Io.
I shall grow wiser.

Dor.
Oberon will be glad on't

Thes.
I must goe call Vrania that she may
Come vow Virginity.

Exit.

Scen. 7.

Pilumnus. Amyntas. &c.
Amyn.
Ceres, I doe thank thee,
That I am author of this publique joy:
But is it justice (Goddesse) I alone
Should have no share in't? Every one I see
Is happy but my selfe that made 'em so,
And my Vrania that should most be so.
I thirst amidst the Bowles; when others sit
Quaffing off Nectar, I but hold the cup;
And stand a sadder Tantalus of love,
Starving in all this plenty; Cere's Demand
Feeds mee with gall; stretching my doubtfull thoughts
On many thousand racks: I would my Dowry
Was all the gold of Tagus, or the ore
Of bright Pactolus channell:—But, Vrania,
Tis hid, alas I know not what it is.

Scen. 8.

Vrania. Thestylis.
My Thestylis, since first the Sea-gods Trident
Did rule the small three pointed peece of earth
Of this our conquering soile, it has not been
A place of so much story as to day,
So full of wonders: O 'twill serve (my Thestylis)
For our discourse when we goe fol'd our Ewes,
Those Sheapheards that another day shall keep
Their Kiddes upon these mountaines shall for ever
Relate the miracle to their wondring Nymphs,
Of my Vrania; it will fill their eares
With admiration.

Thes.
Sir, Vrania's here.

Amyn.
How! in this habit! This me thinks befits not
A Lover, my Vrania.

Vra.
Yes, Amyntas.
This habit well befits a Virgins life.
For since my Dowry never can be paid
Thus for thy sake I'le live and dye a maid.

Amyn.
O is it just, so faire a one as you
Should vow Virginity? must the sacred womb
Of my Vrania fit to have brought forth
A fruitfull race of Gods, be ever barren?
Never expect Lucina? shall this beauty
Live but one age? how curs'd is our posterity
That shall have no Vrania's! can one Tombe
Contain all goodnesse? Ceres rather blast
The corne thou gav'st us: let the earth grow barren;
These trees, and flowers wither eternally;
Let our Plowes toyle in vaine; and let there be
No more a harvest: Every losse is small,
Yea though the Phænix selfe should burne to ashes
And nere revive again! But let there be
Some more Vrania's—

Pilum.
Tis necessity,
We must obey.

Amyn.
But yet Vrania,
I hope we may sometimes come pray together;
'Tis not prophane, and mid'st our sacred Orisons
Change a chast kisse or two; or shall I too
Turne Virgin with thee?—But I foole my selfe,
The Gods intend to crosse us, and in vaine
We strive (Vrania) to crosse them again.

Vrania kneeling before the Ompha.
Vran.
Great Ceres, for thy daughter Proserpines sake
Ravisht by Pluto from Sicilian plaines
To raigne with him Queen of Elysian shades,
Accept the sacrifice of a Virgin, for
It is thy Pleasure, thine, by whom the earth
And every thing growes fruitfull, to have mee
Be ever barren: Thy impossible Dowry,
Makes me despaire to be Amyntas bride;
Therefore that cold chast snow that never should
Have melted but betwixt his amorous armes
I vow unto thy Cloyster (Awfull Goddesse!)
Almighty Ceres, is not this life holy

Echo.
Folly.
Better then live in an unhappy love?

Ec.
Happy love.
Be judge ye woods, & let Amyntas speak.

Ec.
Amyntas, speak.

Pil.
The Goddesse is well pleas'd, she daines to answer
By gracious Echo's; goe Amyntas speak.

Amyn.

Ec.
Amyntas, speak.

Ec.
Now.

Echo.
Hope it.

Echo.
Aske mee.

Echo.
A Husband.

Echo.
What I said last.

Ec.
Yes.

Vran.
'Tis the richest Dowry
That ere my most ambitious praiers could beg!
But I will bring a portion, my Amyntas,
Shall equall it, if it can equall'd bee:
That which I have not, may not, cannot have
Shall be thy portion, 'tis a wife, Amyntas

Amyn.
Should greater Queenes wooe mee in all their Pride,
And in their laps bring me the wealth of worlds,
I should prefer this portion 'fore the best.
Thankes Ceres, that hast made us both be blest.

Echo.
Be blest.

Clai.
Pilumnus, let us now grow young againe,
And like two trees robb'd of their leafy boughes
By winter, age, and Boreas keener breath,
Sprout forth and bud again: This spring of joy
Cuts forty yeares away from the gray summe.
Once more in triumph let us walke the Village!

Pilum.
But first I will intreat this company
To deigne to take part in this publique joy.