University of Virginia Library

Enter Phylander, Orestes, Eurymine.
Eurymine.
Phylander , and Orestes, what conceyt
Troubles your silent mindes? Let me intreat
Since we are come thus farre, as we do walke
You would deuise some prettie pleasant talke:
The aire is coole, the euening high and faire,
Why should your cloudie lookes, then shew dispaire?

Phy.
Beleeue me faire Eurimine, my skill
Is simple in discourse, and vtterance ill:
Orestes if he were disposde to trie,
Can better manage such affaires than I.

Eu.
Why then Orestes let me craue of you
Some olde, or late done story to renew:
Another time you shall request of me
As good, if not, a greater curtesie.

Or.
Trust me as now (nor can I shew a reason)
All mirth vnto my mind comes out of season:
For inward I am troubled in such sort,
As all vnfit I am to make report
Of any thing may breed the least delight,
Rather in teares, I wish the day were night:
For neither can my selfe be merry now,
Nor treat of ought that may be likte of you.

Eu.
Thats but your melancholike old disease,
That neuer are disposde but when ye please.

Ph.
Nay mistresse, then since he denies the taske
My selfe will strait complish what ye aske:
And though the pleasure in my tale be small,
Yet may it serue to passe the time withall.

Eu.
Thanks good Phylander, when you please say on,
Better I deeme a bad discourse, then none.

Phy.
Sometime there liu'd a Duke not far from hence,
Mightie in fame, and vertues excellence,
Subiects he had, as readie to obey
As he to rule: beloued euery way,
But that which most of all he gloried in,
(Hope of his age, and comfort of his kin,)
Was the fruition of one onely sonne,
A gallant youth, inferior vnto none
For vertue, shape, or excellence of wit,
That after him vpon his throne might sit.
This youth when once he came to perfect age,
The Duke would faine haue linckt in marriage
With diuers dames of honourable blood,
But stil his fathers purpose he withstood.

Eu.
How, was he not of mettal apt to loue?

Phy.
Yes apt enough, as wil the sequel proue.
But so the streame of his affection lay,
As he did leane a quite contrary way,
Disprouing still the choyce his father made,
And oftentimes the matter had delaid:
Now giuing hope he would at length consent,
And then again, excusing his intent.

Eu.
What made him so repugnant in his deeds?

Phy.
Another loue, which this disorder breeds:
For euen at home within his fathers Court
The Saint was shrinde, whom he did honor most:
A louely dame, a virgin pure and chaste,
And worthy of a Prince to be imbrac'te.
Had but her birth (which was obscure they said)
Answerd her beautie, this their opinion staid.
Yet did this wilful youth affect her still,
And none but she was mistres of his will.
Full often did his father him disswade,
From liking such a mean and low borne mayde.
The more his father stroue to change his minde,
The more the sonne became with fancy blinde.

Eu.
Alas, how sped the silly Louers then?

Phy.
As might euen grieue the rude vnciuel'st men.
When herevpon to weane his fixed heart
From such dishonour, to his high desert,
The Duke had labourd, but in vaine did striue,
Thus he began his purpose to contriue:
Two of his seruants of vndoubted troth,
He bound by vertue of a solemne oath,
To traine the silly damzel out of sight,
And there in secret to bereaue her quite

Eu.
Of what, her life?

Phy.
Yes Madame of her life,
Which was the cause of all the former strife.

Eu.
And did they kill her?

Phy.
You shall heare anon:
The question first must be discided on
In your opinion, whats your iudgement? say,
Who were most cruell: those that did obay,
Or he that gaue commandment for the fact?

Eu.
In each of them it was a bloody act:
Yet they deserue (to speake my mind of both)
Most pardon, that were bound thereto by oath.

Phy.
It is enough, we do accept your doome,
To passe vnblam'd, what ere of you become.

Eu.
To passe vnblamde, what ere become of me?
What may the meaning of these speeches be?

Phy.
Eurymine, my trembling tongue doth saile,
My conscience yrkes, my fainting sences quaile:
My faltring speech be wraies my guiltie thought,
And stammers at the message we haue brought.

Eu.
Ay me, what horror doth inuade my brest?

Or.
Nay then Phylander I will tell the rest.
Damzell thus fares thy case, demand not why,
You must forthwith prepare your selfe to dye.
Therefore dispatch, and set your mind at rest.

Eu.
Phylander is it true? or doth he iest?

Phy.
There is no remedie but you must dye:
By you I framde my tragicke history.
The Duke my maister, is the man I meant,
His sonne, the Prince, the mayd of meane discent
Your selfe, on whom Ascanio so doth doate,
As for no reason may remoue his thought:
Your death the Duke determines by vs two,
To end the loue betwixt his sonne and you:
And for that cause we trainde you to this wood,
Where you must sacrifice your dearest blood.

Eur.
Respect my teares.

Orest.
We must regard our oath.

Eur.
My tender yeares.

Or.
They are but trifles both.

Eu.
Mine innocency.

Or.
That would our promise breake,
Dispatch forthwith, we may not heare you speake.

Eu.
If neither teares nor innocency moue,
Yet thinke there is a heauenly power aboue.

Orest.
A done, and stand not preaching here all day.

Eu.
Then since there is no remedie, I pray
Yet good my maisters, do but stay so long
Till I haue tane my farewell with a song,
Of him whom I shall neuer see againe.

Phy.
We will affoord that respit to your paine.

Eu.
But least the feare of death appall my mind,
Sweet gentlemen let me this fauour find.
That you wil vale mine eye-sight with this scarfe:
That when the fatall stroke is aymde at me,
I may not start, but suffer patiently.

Orest.
Agreed, giue me, Ile shadow ye from feare,
If this may do it.

Eu.
Shee sings.

Orestes offers to strike her with his Rapier, and is stayed by Phylander.
Orest.
What meanes Phylander?

Phy.
Oh forbeare thy stroke,
Her pitious mone and gesture might prouoke
Hard flints to ruthe.

Orest.
Hast thou forgot thy oath?

Phy.
Forgot it? no.

Or.
Then wherfore doest thou interrupt me so?

Phy.
A sudden terror ouercomes my thought.

Or.
Thē suffer me, that stands in fear of nought.

Phy.
Oh hold Orestes, heare my reason first.

Or.
Is all religion of thy vowe forgot?
Do as thou wilt, but I forget it not.

Phy.
Orestes, if thou standst vpon thine oath,
Let me alone, to answere for vs both.

Or.
What answer canst thou giue? I wil not stay.

Phy.
Nay villain, then my sword shall make me way.

Or.
Wilt thou in this, against thy conscience striue?

Phy.
I will defend a woman while I liue.
A virgin, and an innocent beside,
Therefore put vp, or else thy chaunce abide.

Or.
Ile neuer sheath my sword, vnles thou show,
Our oath reserued, we may let her go.

Phy.
That will I do, if truth may be of force.

Or.
And then wil I be pleasd to graunt remorse.

Eu.
Litle thought & when out of doore I went,
That thus my life should stand on argument.

Phy.
A lawfull oath in an vnlawfull cause,
Is first dispenc't withall, by reasons lawes:
Then next, respect must to the end be had.
Because th'intent, doth make it good or bad.
Now here th'intent is murder as thou seest,
Which to performe, thou on thy oath reliest:
But since the cause is wicked and vniust,
Th'effect must likewise be held odious.
We swore to kill, and God forbids to kill:
Shall we be rulde by him, or by mans will?
Beside it is a woman is condemde:
And what is he that is a man indeed,
That can endure to see a woman bleed?

Or.
Thou hast preuaild, Eurymine stand vp,
I will not touch thee for a world of gold.

Phy.
Why now thou seemst to be of humane mould.
But on our graunt faire mayd that you shall liue,
Will you to vs your faithfull promise giue,
Henceforth t'abandon this your Country quite,
And neuer more returne into the sight
Of fierce Telemachus, the angry Duke,
Whereby we may be voyd of all rebuke!

Eur.
Here do I plight my chaste vnspotted hand,
I will abiure this most accursed land:
And vow henceforth what fortune ere betide,
Within these woods and desarts to abide.

Phy.
Now wants there nothing, but a fit excuse,
To sooth the Duke, in his conceiu'd abuse:
That he may be perswaded she is slaine,
And we our wonted fauour still maintaine.

Orest.
It shall be thus, within a Lawne hard by,
Obscure with bushes, where no humane eye,
Can any way discouer our deceite:
There feeds a heard of Goates, and country neate.
Some Kidde, or other youngling, will we take,
And with our swords dispatch it for her sake.
And hauing slaine it, rip his panting breast,
And take the heart of the vnguiltie beast:
Which to th'intent, our counterfeit report
May seeme more likely, we will beare to court:
And there protest with bloody weapons drawne,
It was her heart.

Phy.
Then likewise take this Lawne,
Which well Telemachus did know she wore:
And let it be all spotted too with gore.
How say you mistresse, will you spare that vale?

Eur.
That or what else, to verifie your tale:
And thankes Phylander, and Orestes both,
That you preserue me from a Tyrants wroth.

Phy.
I would it were within my power, I wis,
To do you greater curtesie then this:
But what we cannot by our deeds expresse
In heart we wish to ease your heauinesse.

Eur.
A double debt, yet one word ere ye go,
Commend me to my deare Ascanio:
Whose loyall loue, and presence to forgoe,
Doth gall me more then all my other woe.

Orest.
Our liues shall neuer want to do him good.

Phy.
Nor yet our death, if he in daunger stood:
And mistresse, so good fortune be your guide.

Or.
And ought that may be fortunate beside.

(Exeunt.
Eu.
The like I wish vnto your selues againe:
And many happie dayes deuoyd of paine.
And now Eurymine record thy state,
So much deiected, and opprest by fate:
What hope remaines? wherein hast thou to ioy?
Wherein to tryumph, but thine owne annoy?
If euer wretch might tell of miserie,
Then I alas, poore I, am only she:
Vnknowne of parents, destitute of friends,
Hopefull of nought, but what misfortune sends.
Banisht, to liue a fugitiue alone,
In vncoth paths, and regions neuer knowne.
Behold Ascanio, for thy only sake,
These tedious trauels I must vndertake:
Nor do I grudge, the paine seemes lesse to mee,
In that I suffer this distresse for thee.

Enter Siluio, a Raunger.
Sil.
Wel met fair Nymph, or Goddesse if ye bee:
Tis straunge me thinkes, that one of your degree
Should walke these solitary groues alone.

Eu.
It were no maruell if you knew my mone.
But what are you that question me so far?

Sil.
My habit telles you that, a Forrester:
That hauing lost a heard of skittish Deere,
Was of good hope, I should a found them heere.

Eu.
Trust me, I saw not any, so farewell.

Sil.
Nay stay: and further of your fortunes tell:
I am not one that meanes you any harme.

Enter Gemulo the shepheard.
Ge.
I thinke my Boy be fled away by charme.
Raunger well met: within thy walke I pray,
Sawst thou not Moyso, my vnhappie Boy?

Sil.
Shepheard not I, what meanst to seeke him here?

Ge.
Because the wagge, possest with doubtfull feare,
Least I would beate him for a fault he did:
Amongst those Trees, I do suspect hees hid.
But how now Raunger? you mistake I trowe,
This is a Lady, and no barren Dowe.

Sil.
It is indeede, and as it seemes, distrest,
Whose griefe to know, I humbly made request:
But she as yet will not reueale the same.

Ge.
Perhaps to me she will: speak gentle dame?
What daunger great hath driuen ye to this place?
Make knowne your state, and looke what slender grace,
A Shepheards poore abilitie may yeeld,
You shall be sure of, ere I leaue the feeld.

Eur.
Alas good Sir, the cause may not be knowne,
That hath inforste me to be here alone.

Sil.
Nay feare not to discouer what you are:
It may be we may remedie yout care.

Eu.
Since needs you will, that I renew my griefe,
Whether it be my chance to finde reliefe
Or not, I wreake not: such my crosses are,
As sooner I expect to meete dispaire.
Then thus it is: not farre from hence do dwell
My parents, of the world esteemed well:
Who with their bitter threats, my graūt had won,
This day to marrie with a neighbours son.
And such a one, to whom I should be wise,
As I could neuer fancie in my life.
And therefore to auoyd that endlesse thrall,
This morne I came away and left them all.

Sil.
Now trust me virgin, they were much vnkind,
To seeke to match you so against your minde.

Ge.
It was beside, vnnaturall constraint:
But by the tenure of your iust complaint,
It seemes you are not minded to returne,
Nor any more to dwell where you were borne.

Eu.
It is my purpose, if I might obtaine
A place of refuge where I might remaine.

Sil.
Why go with me, my Lodge is not far off,
Where you shall haue such hospitalitie
As shall be for your health and safetie.

Ge.
Soft Raunger, you do raunge beyond your skill,
My house is nearer: and for my good will,
It shall exceed a woodmans woodden stuffe:
Then go with me, Ile keep you safe enough.

Sil.
Ile bring her to a bower beset with greene.

Ge.
And I an arbour, may delight a Queene.

Sil.
Her dyet shalbe Venson at my boord.

Ge.
Yong Kid and Lambe, we shepheards can affoord.

Sil.
And nothing else?

Ge.
Yes, raunging now and then,
A Hog, a Goose, a Capon, or a Hen.

Sil.
These walkes are mine, amongst the shadie trees.

Ge.
For that I haue, a garden full of Bees,
Whose buzing musick with the flowers sweet,
Each euen and morning, shall her sences greet.

Sil.
The Nightingale is my continuall clocke.

Ge.
And mine the watchfull, sin-remembring cocke.

Sil.
A hunts vp, I can tune her with my hounds.

Ge.
And I can shew her meads, and fruitfull grounds.

Sil.
Within these woods are many pleasant springs.

Ge.
Betwixt yond dales, the Eccho daily sings.

Sil.
I maruell that a rusticke shepheard dare
With woodmen then audaciously compare?
Why, hunting is a pleasure for a King,
And Gods themselues sometime frequent the thing.
Diana with her bowe and arrowes keene,
Did often vse the Chace, in Forrests greene.
And so alas, the good Athenian knight,
And swift Acteon herein tooke delight:
And Atalanta the Arcadian dame,
Conceiu'd such wondrous pleasure in the game:
That with her traine of Nymphs attending on,
She came to hunt the Bore of Calydon.

Ge.
So did Apollo walk with shepheards crooke,
And many Kings their scepters haue forsooke:
To lead the quiet life we shepheards tooke.
Accounting it a refuge for their woe.

Sil.
But we take choice of many a pleasant walke
And marke the Deare how they begin to stalke,
When each according to his age and time,
Pricks vp his head, and beares a Princely minde:
The lustie Stag conductor of the traine,
Leads all the heard in order downe the plaine:
The baser rascalls scatter here and there,
As not presuming to approach so neere.

Ge.
So shepheards somtime sit vpon a hill,
Or in the cooling shadow of a mill:
And as we sit, vnto our pipes we sing,
And therewith make the neighboring groues to ring.
And when the sun steales downward to the west,
We leaue our chat, and whistle in the fist:
Which is a signall to our stragling flocke,
As Trumpets sound to men in martiall shocke.

Sil.
Shall I be thus out-faced by a swaine?
Ile haue a guard to wayt vpon her traine,
Of gallant woodmen, clad in comely greene:
The like whereof, hath sildome yet bene seene.

Ge.
And I of shepheards such a lustie crew,
As neuer Forrester the like yet knew:
Who for their persons and their neate aray,
Shalbe as fresh, as is the moneth of May.
Where are ye there, ye merry noted swaines?
Draw neare a while, and whilst vpon the plaines
Your flocks do gently feed, lets see your skill,
How you with chaunting, can sad sorrow kill.

Enter shepheards singing.
Sil.
Thinks Gemulo to beare the bell away?
By singing of a simple Rundelay?
No, I haue fellowes, whose melodious throates
Shall euen as far exceed those homely notes
As doth the Nightingale in musicke passe,
The most melodious bird that euer was.
And for an instance, here they are at hand,
When they haue done, let our deserts be scand.

Enter wood-men, and sing.
Eu.
Thanks to you both, you both deserue so well,
As I want skill your worthinesse to tell:
And both I do commend for your good will,
And both Ile honor, loue and reuerence still:
For neuer virgin had such kindnes showne,
Of straungers, yea, and men to her vnknowne.
But more, to end this sudden controuersie,
Since I am made an vmpier in the plea,
This is my verdite: Ile intreate of you
A Cottage for my dwelling: and of you,
A flocke to tend: and so indifferent
My gratefull paines on either shalbe spent.

Sil.
I am agreed, and for the loue I beare
Ile boast, I haue a Tenant is so faire.

Ge.
And I wil hold it as a rich possession,
That she vouchsafes to be of my profession.

Sil.
Thē for a sign that no man here hath wrong
From hence lets all conduct her with a song.