 | The Maydes Metamorphosis |  |
Actus tertius.
Scena. 1.
Enter Appollo, and three Charites.1. Cha.
No no great Phœbus, this your silence tends,
To hide your griefe from knowledge of your friends,
Who if they knew the cause in each respect,
Would shewe their vtmost skill to cure th'effect.
Ap.
Good Ladyes, your conceites in iudgement erre,
Because you see me dumpish, you referre
The reason to some secret griefe of mine:
But you haue seene me melancholy many a time,
That makes me seeme so ill at ease to you.
1.
Fine shifts to colour that you cannot hide,
No Phœbus, by your lookes may be discride
Some hid conceit that harbors in your thought,
Which hath therein, some straunge impression wrought:
That by the course thereof, you seeme to mee,
An other man then you were wont to bee.
Ap.
No Ladies, you deceiue your selues in mee:
What likelihood or token do ye see,
That may perswade it true that you suppose?
2.
Appollo, hence a great suspition growes,
Yeare not so pleasaunt now, as earst in companie,
Ye walke alone, and wander solitarie.
The pleasaunt toyes we did frequent sometime,
Are worne away, and growne out of prime.
Your Instrument hath lost his siluer sound,
That rang of late, through all this grouie ground.
Your bowe wherwith the chace you did frequent,
Is closde in case, and long hath bene vnbent.
How differ you from that Appollo now,
That whilom sat in shade of Lawrell bowe,
And with the warbling of your Iuorie Lute,
T'alure the Fairies for to daunce about.
Or from Th'appollo that with bended bowe,
Did many a sharp and wounding shaft bestowe.
Amidst the Dragon Pithons scalie wings,
And forc't his dying blood to spout in springs.
Beleeue me Phebus, who sawe you then and now,
Would thinke there were a wondrous change in you.
Ap.
Alas faire dames, to make my sorows plain,
Would but reuiue an auncient wound again.
Which grating presently vpon my minde,
Doth leaue a scar of former woes behinde.
3.
Phœbus, if you account vs for the same,
That tender thee, and loue Appollos name,
Powre forth to vs the fountaine of your woe,
If we may any way redresse your mone,
Commaund our best, harme will we do you none.
Ap.
Good Ladies, though I hope for no reliefe,
Ile shewe the ground of this my present griefe.
This time of yeare, or there about it was,
Accursed be the time, tenne times alas:
When I from Delphos tooke my iourney downe,
To see the games in noble Sparta Towne,
There saw I that, wherein I gan to ioy,
Amilchars sonne a gallant comely boy,
Hight (Hiacinth) full fifteene yeares of age,
Whom I intended to haue made my Page,
And bare as great affection to the boy,
As euer Ioue, in Ganimede did ioy.
Among the games, my selfe put in a pledge,
To trie my strength in throwing of the sledge,
Which poysing with my strained arme I threw
So farre, that it beyond the other flew.
My Hiacinth, delighting in the game,
Desierd to proue his manhood in the same:
And catching ere the sledge lay still on ground,
With violent force, aloft it did rebound
Against his head, and battered out his braine:
And so alas, my louely boy was slaine.
1.
Hard hap O Phœbus, but sicth it's past & gone,
We wish ye to forbeare this frustrate mone.
Ap.
Ladies, I know my sorrowes are in vaine,
And yet from mourning can I not refraine.
1,
Eurania some pleasant Song shall sing.
To put ye from your dumps.
Ap.
Alas, no Song will bring
The least reliefe to my perplexed minde.
2.
No Phœbus? what other pastime shal we finde,
To make ye merry with?
Ap.
Faire dames I thanke you all,
My grief's of course, when it the course hath had,
I shall be merrie, and no longer sad.
1.
What will ye then we doo?
Ap.
And please ye, you may goe,
And leaue me here to feed vpon my woe.
2.
Then Phebus, we can but wish ye wel again.
Exeunt Charites.
Ap.
O Phœbus wretched thou thus art thou faine
With forg'de excuses, to conceale thy paine.
O Hyacinth, I suffer not these fits
For thee my Boy, no, no, another sits
Deeper then thou, in closet of my brest:
Whose sight so late, hath wrought me this vnrest.
And yet no Goddesse, nor of heauenly kinde
She is, whose beautie thus torments my minde.
No Fayrie Nymph, that haunts these pleasaunt woods,
No Goddesse of the flowres, the fields, nor floods:
Yet such an one, whom iustly I may call
A Nymph, as well as any of them all.
Eurymine, what heauen affoords thee heere?
So may I say, because thou com'st so neere?
And neerer far vnto a heauenly shape,
Then she of whom Ioue triumph't in the Rape.
Ile sit me downe, and wake my griefe againe,
To sing a while, in honour of thy name.
Where Paris kept his Heard:
Before the other Ladies all,
He would haue thee preferd.
Pallas for all her painting than,
Her face would seeme but pale:
Then Iuno would haue blusht for shame,
And Uenus looked stale.
Shouldst beare the golden ball:
So far would thy most heauenly forme,
Excell the other all.
O happie Phœbus, happie then,
Most happie should I bee:
If faire Eurymine would please,
To ioyne in loue with mee.
Enter Eurymine.
Eu.
Although there be such difference in the chaunge,
To liue in Court, and desart woods to raunge,
Yet in extremes, wherein we cannot chuse,
An extreame refuge is not to refuse.
Good gentlemen, did any see my heard?
I shall not finde them out, I am afeard:
And yet my maister wayteth with his bowe,
Within a standing, for to strike a Doe.
You saw them not? your silence makes me doubt:
I must goe further, till I finde them out.
Ap.
What seek you prettie Mayde?
Eu.
Forsooth my heard of Deere.
Ap.
I sawe them lately, but they are not heere.
Eu.
I pray Sir, where?
Ap.
An houre agoe or twaine,
I sawe them feeding all aboue the plaine.
Eu.
So much the more my toile to fetch them in.
I thanke ye Sir.
Ap.
Nay stay sweet Nymph with mee.
Eu.
My busines, cannot so dispatched bee.
Ap.
But pray ye Maide, it will be verie good,
To take the shade, in this vnhaunted wood:
This flowring bay with branches large and great,
Will shrowd ye safely, from the parching heat.
Eu.
Good sir, my busines calls me hence in hast.
Ap.
O stay with him, whō conquered thou hast.
With him, whose restles thoughts do beat on thee:
With him whose ioyes surmount all ioyes aboue:
If thou wouldst thinke him worthie of thy loue.
Eu.
Why Sir, would you desire another make?
And weare that garland for your Mistres sake?
Ap.
No Nymph, although I loue this lawrel tree,
My fancy ten times more affecteth thee:
And as the bay is alwaies fresh and greene,
So shall my loue as fresh to thee be seene.
Eu.
Now truly Sir, you offer me great wrong,
To hold me from my busines here so long.
Ap.
O stay sweet Nymph, with more aduisement view,
What one he is, that for thy grace doth sue:
I am not one that haunts on hills or Rocks,
I am no shepheard wayting on my flocks.
I am no boystrous Satyre, no nor Faune,
That am with pleasure of thy beautie drawne.
Thou dost not know God wot, thou dost not kno,
The wight, whose presence thou disdainest so.
Eu.
But I may know, if you wold please to tell.
Ap.
My father in the highest heauens doth dwel:
And I am knowne the sonne of Ioue to bee,
Whereon the folke of Delphos honor mee.
By me is knowne what is, what was, and what shall bee,
By me are learnde the Rules of harmonie.
By me the depth of Phisicks lore is found:
And power of hearbes that grow vpon the ground.
And thus by circumstances maist thou see,
That I am Phœbus, who doth fancie thee.
Eu.
No sir, by these discourses may I see,
You mock me with a forged pedegree.
If sonne you be to Ioue, as erst ye said,
In making loue vnto a mortall maide,
You worke dishonour to your deitie:
I must be gone: I thanke ye for your curtesie.
Ap.
Alas, abandon not thy Louer so.
I pray sir hartily, giue me leaue to goe.
Ap.
The way ore-growne, with shrubs and bushes thick,
The sharpned thornes, your tender feete will prick.
The brambles round about, your traine will lappe,
The burs and briers, about your skirts will wrappe.
Eu.
If Phœbus, thou of Ioue the ofspring be,
Dishonor not thy deitie so much,
With profered force, a silly mayd to touch:
For doing so, although a god thou bee,
The earth, and men on earth, shall ring thy infamie.
Ap.
Hard speech to him that loueth thee so well.
Eu.
What know I that?
Ap.
I know it, and can tell: and feele it too.
Eu.
If that your loue be such,
As you pretend, so feruent and so much,
For proofe thereof, graunt me but one request.
Ap.
I will, by Ioue my father, I protest:
Prouided first, that thy petition bee,
Not hurtfull to thy selfe, nor harme to mee.
For so sometimes did Phaeton my sonne,
Request a thing, whereby he was vndonne.
He lost his life through crauing it, and I
Through graunting it, lost him my sonne thereby.
Eu.
Then Phœbus thus it is, if thou be hee,
That art pretended in thy pedegree,
If sonne thou be to Ioue as thou doest faine,
And chalengest that tytle not in vaine:
Now heer bewray some signe of godhead than?
And chaunge me straight, from shape of mayd to man?
Ap.
Alas, what fond desire doth moue thy minde
To wish thee altered from thy natiue kinde?
If thou in this thy womans forme canst moue,
Not men but gods, to sue and seeke thy loue:
Content thy selfe with natures bountie than,
And couet not to beare the shape of man.
And this moreouer will I say to thee,
Fairer man then mayde, thou shalt neuer bee.
These vaine excuses, manifestly showe,
Whether you vsurp Apollos name or no.
Sith my demaund so far surmounts your Art,
Ye ioyne exceptions, on the other part.
Ap.
Nay then my doubtles Deitie to proue,
Although thereby for euer I loose my Loue,
I graunt thy wish, thou art become a man:
I speake no more, then well performe I can.
And though thou walke in chaunged bodie now,
This pennance shall be added to thy vow:
Thy selfe a man, shalt loue a man, in vaine:
And louing, wish to be a maide againe.
Eu.
Appollo, whether I loue a man or not,
I thanke ye, now I will accept my lot:
And sith my chaunge hath disappointed you,
Ye are at libertie to loue anew.
Exit.
Ap.
If euer I loue, sith now I am forsaken,
Where next I loue, it shall be better taken:
But what so ere my fate in louing bee,
Yet thou maist vaunt, that Phœbus loued thee.
Exit Appollo.
Enter Ioculo, Frisco, and Mopso, at three seuerall doores.
Mop.
Ioculo, whither iettest thou?
Hast thou found thy Maister?
Io.
Mopso wel met, hast thou found thy mistresse?
Mop.
Not I by Pan.
Io.
Nor I by Pot.
Mop.
Pot? what god's that?
Io.
The next god to a Pan, and such a pot it may be,
shop.
Mop.
Frisco, where hast thou bene frisking? hast thou found?
Fris.
I haue found.
Io.
What hast thou found Frisco?
Fris.
A couple of crack-roapes.
Io.
And I.
Mop.
And I.
Fris.
I meane you two.
Io.
I you two.
Mop.
And I you two.
Fris.
Come, a trebble coniunction: all three, all three.
They all imbrace each other.
Mop.
But Frisco, hast not found the faire shepheardesse,
thy Maisters Mistresse?
Fris.
Not I by God, Priapus I meane.
Io.
Priapus quoth a? Whattin a God might that bee?
Fris.
A plaine God, with a good peg to hang a shepheardresse
bottle vpon.
Io.
Thou being a Forresters Boy, shouldst sweare by the
God of the woods.
Fris.
My Maister sweares by Siluanus, I must sweare by
his poore neighbour.
Io.
And heer's a shepheards swaine, sweares by a Kitchen
God, Pan.
Mop.
Pan's the shepheardes God, but thou swearest by
Pot, what God's that?
Io.
The God of good-fellowship: well, you haue wicked
Maisters, that teach such little Boyes as you are to sweare so
young.
Fris.
Alas good old great man, wil not your master swear?
Io.
I neuer heard him sweare six sound oaths in all my life.
Mop.
May hap he cannot, because hees diseasd.
Fris.
Peace Mopso, I will stand toot, hee's neither braue
Courtier, bouncing Caualier, nor boone Companion, if he
sweare.
Io.
How? sweare, forsweare, and sweare? how is that?
Fris.
They'le sweare at dyce, forsweare their debts:
And sweare when they loose their labour in loue.
Io.
Well, your maisters haue much to answere for, that
bring ye vp so wickedly.
Fris.
Nay my maister is damn'd Ile be sworne, for his very
soule burnes in the firie eye of his faire mistresse.
Mop.
My maister is not damn'd, but he is dead, for he hath
buried his ioyes in the bosome of his faire mistresse.
Io.
My maister is neither damnde nor dead, and yet is in
the case of both your maisters: like a woodden shepheard,
and a sheepish wood-man, for he is lost in seeking of a lost
sheepe, and spent in hunting a Doe that hee would faine
strike.
Fris.
Faith and I am founderd with flinging too and fro,
with Ches-nuts, Hazel-nuts, Bullaze, and wildings, for presents
from my maister to the faire shepherdesse.
Mop.
And I am tierd like a Calfe, with carrying a Kidde
euery weeke to the Cottage of my maisters sweete Lambkin.
Io.
I am not tierd, but so wearie I cannot goe, with following
a maister, that followes his mistresse, that followes her
shadow, that followes the sunne, that followes his course.
Fris.
That follows the colt, that followed the mare, the
man rode on to Midleton: shall I speake a wise word?
Mop.
Do and wee will burne our caps.
Fris.
Are not we fooles?
Io.
Is that a wise word?
Fris.
Giue me leaue: are not we fooles to weare our yong
feete to old stumps, when there dwells a cunning man in a
Caue hereby, who for a bunch of rootes, a bagge of nuts, or
a bushell of crabs, will tell vs, where thou shalt finde thy maister,
and which of our maisters shall win the wenches fauour?
Io.
Bring me to him Frisco, Ile giue him all the poynts at
Mop.
A bottle of whey shall be his meed, if he saue me labour
for posting with presents.
Enter Aramanthus, with his Globe, &c.
Fris.
Here he comes, offend him not Ioculo,
For feare he turne thee to a Iacke an Apes.
Mop.
And thee to an Owle.
Io.
And thee to Wood-cocke.
Fris.
A Wood-cocke, an Owle, and an Ape?
Mop.
A long bill, a broade face, and no tayle?
Io.
Kisse it Mopso, and be quiet, Ile salute him ciuilly.
Good speed good man.
Aram.
Welcome bad boy.
Fris.
He speakes to thee Ioculo.
Io.
Meaning thee Frisco.
Aram.
I speake, and meane not him, nor him, nor thee,
But speaking so, I speake and meane, all three.
Io.
If ye be good at Rimes and Riddles old man, expound me this.
These two serue two, those two serue one,
Assoyle me this, and I am gone.
Aram.
You three serue three, those three do seeke to one,
One shall her finde, he comes, and she is gone.
Io.
This is a wise answer: her going causd his comming,
For if she had nere gone, he had nere come.
Mop.
Good maister wizard, leaue these murlemewes, and
tel Mopso plainly, whether Gemulo my maister, that gentle
shepheard, shall win the loue of the faire shepherdesse his
flock-keeper or not, and Ile giue ye a bottell of as good
whey, as ere ye laid lips too.
Fris.
And good father Fortune-teller, let Frisco knowe,
whither Siluio my maister that lustie Forrester, shal gaine that
same gay shepherdesse or no? Ile promise ye nothing for your
paines, but a bag-full of nuts? if I bring a crab or two in my
pocket, take them for aduantage.
And gentle maister wise-man, tell Ioculo, if his noble
Maister Ascanio, that gallant Courtier, shalbe found by me,
and she found by him, for whom, he hath lost his fathers fauour,
and his owne libertie, and I my labour, and Ile giue ye
thankes: for we Courtiers, neither giue nor take bribes.
Aram.
I take your meaning better then your speech,
And I will graunt the thing you doo beseech:
But for the teares of Louers be no toyes,
Ile tell their chaunce in parables to Boyes.
Fris.
In what ye will, lets heare our maisters luck.
Aram.
Thy maisters Doe, shall turne vnto a Buck.
To Mopso.
Thy maisters Eawe, be chaunged to a Ram,
To Ioculo.
Thy maister seeks a maide, and findes a man.
Yet for his labor shall he gaine his meede,
The other two shall sigh, to see him speede.
Mop.
Then my maister shall not win the shepheardesse?
Aram.
No: hast thee home, and bid him right his wrong,
The shepheardesse wil leaue his flock ere long.
Mop.
Ile run to warne my master of that.
Exit.
Fris.
My maister wood-man, takes but woodden paines
to no purpose I thinke, what say ye, shall he speede?
Aram.
No: tell him so, and bid him tend his Deare:
And cease to woe, he shall not wed this yeare.
Fris.
I am not sorie for it, farewell Ioculo.
Exit.
Io.
I may goe with thee, for I shall speed euen so too, by
staying behinde.
Aram.
Better my Boy, thou shalt thy maister finde,
And he shall finde the partie he requires:
And yet not finde the summe of his desires.
Keep on that way, thy maister walkes before,
Whom when thou find'st, loose him good Boy no more.
Exit ambo.
| The Maydes Metamorphosis | |