University of Virginia Library

SCEN. IV.

Cloris.
Clarindo.
Heere comes my long expected messenger,
God grant the newes hee bring may make amends
For his long stay; and sure, I hope it will.
Me thinkes his face bewraies more iollytie
In his returning then in going hence.

Cla.
Well, all is well; no Amarillis hath
Supplanted Siluias loue in Thirsis heart,
Nor any shall: but see where Cloris lookes
For what I shall not bring her at this time.

Clo.
Clarindo thought my longing would be faine

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Dispatch'd at once, and heare my doome pronounc'd
All in a word of either life or death,
Yet doe not tell it but by circumstance.
Tell me the manner vvhere, and how thou foundst
My Thirsis, what hee said, how look'd, how far'd,
How he receiu'd my message, vsed thee;
And all in briefe, but yet be sure tell all,

Cla.
All will I tell, as neere as I can tell.
First after tedious searching vp and downe,
I found him all alone, like a hurt Deare,
Got vnder couer in a shadie groue,
Hard by a little christall purling spring,
Which but one sullen note of murmur held;
And where no Sunne could see him, where no eye
Might ouerlooke his louely primacy.
There in a path of his owne making, trode
Bare as a common way, yet led no way
Beyond the turnes he made (which were but short)
With armes a crosse, his hat downe on his eyes
(As if those shades yeelded not shade ynough,
To darken them) he walkes with often stops,
Vneuen pace, like motions to his thoughts.
And when he heard me comming, for his eares
Were quicker watches then his eyes, it seem'd;
Hee suddenly lookes vp, staies suddenly,
And with a brow that told how much the sight
Of any interrupter troubled him,
Beheld me, without speaking any word,
As if expecting what I had to say.
I finding him in this confus'd dismay,
Who heretofore had seene him otherwise:
I must confesse, (for tell you all I must.)
A trembling passion ouerwhelmd my breast,
So that I likewise stood confus'd and dumbe,
And onely lookt on him, as he on me.
In this strange posture like two statues we

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Remaind a while; but with this difference set:
He blusht, and I look'd pale; my face did shew
Ioy to see him, his trouble to be seene.
At length bethinking me for what I came,
What part I had to act, I rowzd my spirits,
And set my selfe to speake; although I wisht
He would haue first begun; and yet before
A word would issue, twise I bowd my knee,
Twice kist my hand; my action so much was
More ready then my tongue: at last I told
Whose messenger I was, and how I came
To intimate the sadde distressed case
Of an afflicted Nymph, whose onely helpe
Remaind in him: he when he heard the name
Of Cloris, turnes away his head, and shrinkes,
As if he grieued that you should grieue for him.

Clo.
No, no, it troubled him to heare my name,
Which he despises, is he so peruers
And wayward still? ah then I see no hope.
Clarindo, would to God thou hadst not gone,
I could be, but as now, I am vndone.

Cla.
Haue patience Mistres, and but heare the rest.
When I perceiu'd his suffrings, with the touch
And sodaine stop it gaue him, presently
I layd on all the waights that motion might
Procure, and him besought, adiur'd, invok'd,
By all the rights of Nature, pietie,
And manlines, to heare my message out.
Told him how much the matter did import
Your safety and his fame. How he was bound
In all humanity to right the same.

Clo.
That vvas vvell done my boy, vvhat said he then?

Cla.
Hee turnes about, and fixt his eyes on mee,
Content to giue his eares a quiet leaue,
To heare me, vvhen I faild not to relate
All vvhat I had in charge; and all he heares;

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And lookes directly on me all the vvhile.

Clo.
I doubt he noted thee more then thy vvords,
But now Clarindo, vvhat vvas his reply?

Cla.
Thus. Tell faire Cloris, my good boy, how that
I am not so disnatured a man,
Or so ill borne, to disesteeme her loue,
Or not to grieue, (as I protect I doe)
That she should so afflict her selfe for mee.
But.

Clo.
Ah now comes that bitter vvord of But
Which makes all nothing, that vvas said before.
That smooths and vvounds, that stroakes and dashes more
Then flat denyals, or a plaine disgrace.
But tell me yet vvhat followed on that But?

Cla.
Tell her (said hee) that I desire shee would
Redeeme her selfe at any price shee could,
And neuer let her thinke on mee, vvho am
But euen the barke, and outside of a man,
That trades not vvith the liuing, neither can
Nor euer vvill keepe other company.
Then vvith the dead. My Siluias memory
Is all that I must euer liue vvithall.
With that his teares, vvhich likewise forced mine,
Set me againe vpon another racke
Of passion so, that of my selfe I sought
To comfort him the best I could deuise.
And I besought him that it vvould not be
Transported thus. But know that vvith the dead
He should no more conuerse: and how his loue
Was liuing, that vvould giue him all content,
And vvas all his intire, and pure, and vvisht
To liue no longer then shee should be so.
When more I vvould haue said, he shooke his head
And vvild me speake no further at that time,
But leaue him to himselfe, and to returne
Againe anone, and he vvould tell me more;
Commending me for hauing done the part

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Both of a true and mouing messenger.
And so I tooke my leaue, and came my vvay.

Clo.
Returne againe? no, to what end,
If hee be conceited, and so fond
To entertaine a shadow; I haue done,
And vvish, that I had neuer done so much.
Shall I descend below my selfe, to send
To one is not himselfe? Let him alone
With his dead Image: you shall goe no more.
Haue I here fram'd vvith all the art I could
This Garland deckt vvith all the various flowres,
Arcadia yeeld, in hope hee vvould send backe
Some comfort, that I might therwith haue crown'd
His loue, and vvitness'd mine, in thendles round
Of this faire ring, the Character of faith?
But now he shall haue none of it, I rather vvill
Rend it in peeces, and dishatter all
Into a Chaos, like his formeles thoughts.
But yet thou saist hee vvild thee to returne,
And he vvould tell thee more.

Cla.
Yes so hee saide.

Clo.
Perhaps thy vvords might yet so vvorke vvith him
As that hee takes this time to thinke on them,
And then I should doe vvrong to keepe thee backe.
Well thou shalt goe, and carry him from mee
This Garland, vvorke it vvhat effect it vvill.
But yet I know it vvill doe nothing. Stay
Thou shalt not goe, for sure hee said but that
To put thee off, that he might be alone
At his idolatrie, in vvorshipping,
A nothing, but his selfe made images.
But yet he may be vvearied with those thoughts
As hauing worne them long, and end they must:
And this my message comming in fit time,
And moouingly deliuered, may take hold:
He said thou wert a moouing messenger.

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Clarindo, did he not?

Cla.
Yes so he sayd.

Clo.
Well, thou shalt goe; and yet if any thought
Of me should moue him, he knowes well my minde
(If not too well,) and where he may me finde.
Thou shalt not goe Clarindo, nor will I
Disgrace me more with importunity:
And yet if such a motion should take fire,
And finde no matter ready, it would out,
And opportunities must not be slackt
Clarindo, thou shalt go, and as thou goest,
Looke to my flocke, and so God speed thee well.