University of Virginia Library

SCENA V.

Venus, Paris, and a companie of sheepeherdes.
Ven.
Sheepeherdes, I am contente, for this sweete sheepeherdes sake,
A straunge reuenge vpon the maide and her disdaine to take.
Let Colins corps be brought in place, and burned in the plaine,
And let this be the verse. The loue whom Thestilis hath slaine.
And trust me I will chide my sone for parciallitie,
That gaue the swaine so deepe a wound, and let her scape him by.

Pasto.
Alas that euer loue was blinde, to shoote so farre amisse.

Ven.
Cupid my sonne was more to blame, the fault not mine, but his.

Pastores exeunt, Manent. Uen. cum Par.
Par.
O madam, if your selfe would daine the handling of the bowe,
Albeit it be a taske, your selfe more skill, more iustice knowe.

Ven.
Sweete sheepeherde, didst thou euer loue.

Par.
Lady, a little once.

Ven.
And art thou changed.

Par.
faire queene of loue I loued not al attōce.

Ven.
Well wanton, were thou wounded so deepe as some haue ben,
It were a cunning cure to heale and rufull to be seene.

Par.
But tell me, gracious goddesse, for a starte and false offence,
Hath Venus or her sonne the power, at pleasure to dispence.

Ven.
My boy, I will instruct thee in a peece of poetrie,
That happly erst thou hast not heard: in hel there is a tree,
Where once a day doe sleepe the soules of false foresworen louers,
With open hartes, and there aboute in swarmes the number louers
Of poore forsaken ghostes, whose winges from of this tree do beate
Round drops of firie Phlegiton to scorch false hartes with heate.
This payne did Venus and her sonne, entreate the prince of hell,
T'impose to such as faithles were, to such as loued them well.
And therefore this, my louely boy, faire Venus doth aduise thee,
Be true and stedfast in thy loue, beware thou doe disguise thee.
For he that makes but loue a iest, when pleaseth him to starte,
Shall feele those firye vvater drops consume his faithles harte.

Par.
Is Venus and her sonne so full of iustice and seuerytye.

Ven.
Pittie it vveare that loue shoulde not be lincked with indifferencie.
Hovve euer louers can exclaime for harde successe in loue,
Trust me, some more then cōmon cause that painfull hap dothe moue.
And cupids bovve is not alone his triumphe, but his rod,
Nor is he only but a boy: he hight a mighty god.
And they that do him reuerence, haue reason for the same,
His shafts keepe heauē and earth in avve, and shape revvardes for shāe.

Par.
And hathe he reason to mantayne vvhy Colin died for loue.

Ven.
Yea reason good I vvarrant thee, in right it might beehoue.

Par.
Then be the name of loue adored, his bowe is full of mighte,
His vvoundes are all but for desert, his lavves are all but right:
vvell for this once me lyst apply my speeches to thy sense,
And The stilis shall feele the paine for loues supposed offence.

The shepherds bring in Collins Hearde singing.
VVelladay VVelladay: Poore Colin thow arte going to the grounde:
The loue whome Thestis hathe slaine,
Harde harte, faire face fraughte with disdaine:
Disdaine in loue a deadlie wounde.
VVounde her swete loue so deepe againe,
That shee may feele the dyeng paine
Of this vnhappie shepherds swaine,
And dye for loue as Colin died. as Colin died finis Camœnæ.

Ven.
Shepherdes abyde, let Colins corps bee vvittnes of the paine
That Thestilis endures in loue, a plague for her dysdaine.
Beholde the organ of our vvrathe, this rusty churle is hee,
She dotes on his yllfauored face, so muche accurst is shee.

She singeth an old songe called the woing of Colman.
A foule croked Churle enters, & Thestilis a faire losse wooeth him. he crabedly refuzeth her, and goethe out of place. She tarieth behinde.
Par.
A poore vnhappy Thestlis, vnpitied is thy paine.

Ven.
Her fortune not vnlyke to his vvhome cruell thow hast slaine.

Thestilis
singeth, & the Shepherds replie.
The Songe.
The straunge effects of my tormented harte,
VVhome cruell loue hathe wofull prisoner caughte,
VVhome cruel hate hathe into bondage broughte,
VVhome wit no way of safe escape hath taughte,
Enforce me say in wittnes of my smarte,
There is no paine to foule disdaine in hardy sutes of loue.

Shep.
There is no paine &c.

Thest.
Cruell, farewell.

Shep
Cruell, farewell.

Thest.
Moste cruell thow, of all that nature framed.

Shep.
Moste cruell &c.

Thest.
To kill thy loue with thy disdaine.

Shep.
To kill thy loue with thy disdaine.

Thest.
Cruell disdaine soe liue thow named.

Shep.
Cruell disdaine &c.

Thest.
And let me dye of Iphispaine.

Shep.
A life to good for thy disdaine.

Thest.
Sithe this my stars to me allot,
And thow thy loue hast all forgot. Exit Thest.


Shep.
And thou &c.

The shepherds carie out Colin. The grace of this song is in the Shepherds Ecco to her verse.
Ven.
Now shepherds, bury Colins corps, perfume his herce with flowers,
And write what iustice Venus did amid these woods of yours.
How now, how cheeres my Louely boy, after this dump of loue.

Par.
Such dumpes, sweete Lady, as bin these are deadly dumpes to proue.

Ven.
Cease shepherde, these are other nues, after this melancholye.
My minde presumes some tempest toward vpon the speache of Mercurie