University of Virginia Library

Actus 2.

Scena 1.

Hegio. Gripus.
Hegio.
Exil'd from mirth I wander up and downe,
Gall'd with loves tyranous torment, lo I ly,
Inthrall'd, and bound in Cupids golden chaines,
Perplext with wo, my feature all is blur'd
And chang'd, and I am Metamorphosed.

Gripus.
I am transformed too, O how hath passion
Thrust all my thoughts, and senses out of fashion.

Hegio.
My head of late was thatcht with yellow straw
Now it is perriwig'd with Winters gray.

Gripus.
My front as smooth as Ivory while ere
Now beares deepe furrowes, made by sorrowes plough,
In which the seeds of woe are scattered.

Hegio.
My eyes are Ilands, they're girt round about
With troubled Oceans, and tides of teares.

Gripus.
I spend those teares whose store will ne're be spent,
Yet shall I want teares; before cause of them.
My Mira score not up my cares, and feares,
Nor keep a Catalogue of my sad teares.

Hegio.
Quotidian feavers of reproch and scorue,
Have chill'd the vigour of my wounded heart,
Yet by the scorching raies of Daris eyes,
It still is ignifi'd and glowes, and flames,
O Daris let the showres of thy love
Asswage the glowing fire of my passion.

Gripus.
If I should put to Sea and boldly plough
The glassie face of Neptune, love would be
My Pylot. If perchance I walke abroad
For recreation, my companion
Is love, the fruitlesse love, of coy Mira.

Hegio.
When the soft charmes of labour chasing sleepe
Seize with their downy wings upon my eyes,
When heavy Morpheus with his leaden keyes
Close up my watchfull senses, love's my pillow.

Grip.
Me thinks the gentle gales of winds that move
The trembling boughs, and through their palsie leaves,
Breath musicke, whisper Mira's name to me.

Hegio.
Me thinks the notes of all the chirping birds
Are chang'd, and warble nought but Daris name.

Grip.
Me thinks that Eccho which doe alwaies speak
In answer to my sighs, say Mica's coy.
Tis true, Diana hath more Nimphs then one
In store, but no fruit else will please my taste,
But what Hesperides garden brought forth,
No colour please my eye but that which was
Stained by the fish Maurieticall,
And none but Mira can my fancy move.
O Mira that my heart were flint like thine,
Or thine were soft, and plyable, like mine.

Hegio.
The birds wander in the flowrie fields
In the wild benefit of nature, live
Happier then we; for they may choose their mates,
And carroll their sweet pleasures to the Spring,
Whilst I doe languish like a a Plant in drought,
And lay all pickled up in briny teares.
Great Jove who setst upon thy Saphire throne,
Spangled with Starrs, Remember, Venus sonne
Transfixt his darts in thy celestiall breast,
And learne to pitty slighted Lovers by
The pangs you felt in that extremity.

Grip.
Sacred Apollo call to minde the time
When thou wert beauty blasted, as I am,
And if thy ayre dividing dart can't make
Mira to love, let them make Gripus dye.

Heg.
And thou faire Paphian Queen (cause of my wo)
Thy self didst once implore Adonis love,
Prove you as kind, I'me tortur'd on thy rack,
Ease my sad soule, or cause my heart-strings crack.

Exeunt.

Scena 2.

Venus. Cupid.
Venus.
What though with wrie-mouth'd scorn and squint-ey'd scoffes
These Shepherds once did sleight and scorne thy bow,
Yet don't extend thy punishments so farre,
As they should fatall prove, son save their lives.
Yeares heavy loaden with their months retire,
Months end, their date of measur'd dayes being come,
And dayes full hour'd to their periods tend,
And howres chast with light-foot minutes end,
Let their undaunted e'uls now find reliefe,
Let rip'ned time now terminate their griefe.

Cupid.
What pretty weather-cocks these women be,
I've oft heard Willow-wearing Crites say,
(Accusing Dilla of unconstancy)
That Uenus was a Planet, no fixt Sarr,
Nor did he deviate from truth in this,
Twice in a minute she will wax, and wane.
Of late made drunke with furious passion,
With eyes converted into raging flames,
With wrinckles on your sterne contracted brow,
Wrinkles (by anger made) like Sepulchers,
In which poore Hegio might have been interr'd;
Urged with speedy haste, you summon'd me
To give attendance, without slow delay,
I shook my nimble pearle-imbroider'd wings,
And cut the skie to execute your will,
I had command to torture Hegio,
To tosse him in loves blanquet, and to make him
The most distrest of men, a scorned lover,
Now you would surfet him with happinesse,
Now you would throw his Mistris Julio's armes,
You'd have her struck too, that she sick might be
No more of coynesse or unconstancie.

Venus.
The Eagle scornes to stoop unto a Fly,
The Regall Lyon doth refuse to prey
On him that prostrate lies, and will you prove
More cruell then these be? Then Poets pens
Shall Satyrs drop, and paint out thy disgrace,
Thy childehood, nakednesse, and hoodwinck't face,
Prove kind, and ev'ry tongue shall carroll forth,
And chant in amorous lines thy lasting praise.
Cupid, he shoots.
Yeild (gentle girles) to love, now each goe rest,
Her amourous heart in her true lovers breast.

Scena 3.

Gripus. Hegio. Eccho.
Grip.
Lanch forth sad soule into an Ocean
Of teares, driven by the blustring gales of sighs,
To find the Haven, and seeke safe harbour out,
But stay a while, I thinke I'de neede provide
Some other Pylot for to steere and guid
Thy ballanc't bulk, besides sorrow, and griefe,
For these I feare will strike, and split o'th sands,
Wanting a Compas in their quavering hands.
How ere th' art like to leake, and sinck i'th waves,
Ith' raging Waves of sad despaire, if so
Thy sailes and tacklings thou to flames maist turn
Cast overboard thy hope, thy carkasse burne.
My grief's a boundlesse Sea that knowes no Shore.

Hegio.
O that I were a Basiliske that I
Might venome Daris, or unvenom'd dye.
To some tenebrious dungeon let us hie
Where never day shall be acquainted with us,
Where we'le remaine still in obscurity.
Cursing our fates, and never more behold
Sols radient and splendidious raies; and heare
The melancholly Owle Nictimine,
(The chiefest friend of solitarinesse)
The sullen Dogs, the immitating Apes,
Shall still converse with us, and such dumb things,
To whom nature denies use to sound our names,
Our grifes to blab, or fames to damnifie.

Eccho.
Fie,

Hegio.
We wish for death, we live without all hope,

Eccho.
Hope.

Gripus.
Hopes t'obtaine our loves their are none,

Eccho.
One.

Hegio.
'Tis bootlesse to try againe,

Eccho.
Try againe.

Gripus.
Say, shall we then obtaine reciprocall love?

Eccho.
Love.

Hegio.
Shall we assuredly
Upon a babling Eccho's voice rely?
Alas, he fondly prates, shall we beleev't?

Eccho.
Beleev't.

Gripus.
We will; and as thy tale prove true,
So will we credit Eccho's.

Eccho.
Credit Eccho.

Hegio.
Now as a well is hotter, when the ground
Weare Winters hoary mantle, then when as
Earth decking Flora doth invest the grasse
In Summers tapestry, and Junes parliament roabs
By an Antiperistasin, or by
The cirumambient ayres humidity,
Which in a manner doe besiege it round,
And make th' intrinsique heate unite, and so
Concentre to resist th' invading foe:
So let their coynesse set an edge on us,
And cuspidat our animosities.
Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito,
Yeeld not to ev'les, but 'gainst them stoutlier goe.

Exeunt.

Scena 4.

Flambio. Agroicus.
Flam.
How happy am I in my bud of youth?
The blossome of my nonage is not blowne,
Nor doe the strength of nature (yet) beginne
To uneffeminate my downy cheeke.
I place no happinesse in womens smiles,
Nor torture in their ill-becomming frownes,
My heart is shot-free (yet) nor doth it lye
In the faire casket of a Females eye,
But haile Agroicus, what think'st of love.

Agroicus.

In good sooth, I know not how to devine it, or give an extract deminution of it, but as I deceive, its very nocent, and almost omninocent, where it gits the upper hand.

Love and the botts have kill'd many an old horse, my Grandame told me that.

And I have heard an old blancient boet say that Megander swum through Hell to his Hero, I thinke hee was a Goose to doe so; And yet my Zonne Tom did

more the 'tother day, he leapt over a high wall, and waded through a deepe moate past his depth, to git to Margery.

As I came up at the butt londs end, I met him in that case, but O, how did I bemire, and wonder, to see his new slop and all his cloathes bejeered with the mud of the pond he ran through.

The old Boet I bominated before, said, That when folke fell in love, a blind naked boy, he called him Stupid, shot them, 'Twas he shot my Zonne Tom, by the Maskins I would give the best cow in my yard, to find out this raskall Stupid, and I would thrash him, as I did the Henne last Shrove-tuesday.

Exeunt.

Scena 5.

Gripus. Hegio. Hymen.
Gripus.
Like as a guilty prisoner, upon whom
Offended Justice lately past her doome,
Drags his sad Irons from the loathed jaile,
(Hopelesse to live) unto the cursed tree
Where he stands muffled (but an inch from death)
His last prayer said, and hearts confession made;
At last (unlookt for) come a slow reprieve.
And gives the wretch some few daies more to live.
Now he (lost in amazement) boldly rends
Deaths muffler from his eyes, and scarcely knows
(Being over-joy'd) whether he lives or dyes:
Even so joy whose life is quit from death,
And despaire, by Mira's propitious smiles,
Now 'gins t'approach my Festivall, and rest,
I've chast dull sorrow from my pensive brest.

Hegio.
Thanks gentle Eccho for thy sweet direction,
Thankes gentle Juno for thy kind protection,
Daris is wonne, Hence loathed Melancholly,
Avaunt, avaunt from hence thou Snake-hair'd Devill,
Thou hollow-eyde monster full fraught with evill,
Hence, to the Abysle below, thy way imbrace,
For that's thy Mansion, thy proper place.
The guife that wants a bottom, there mayst dwell,
And preside o're the counsell of darke hell,
Inthroan'd in Radamanthus seat maist raigne
Among the Cacodemons, ne're againe
Ascend to cast thy influence ore my braine.

Hymen.
You that in this unfortunate age of love,
This haplesse time of of Cupids tyranny,
Have felt the worst that winged wag could doe
Now banish sorrow, henceforth you shall be
So happy as to thinke no wight is wretched,
Or that there is a thing call'd miserie.
What pleasures Poets fame of after death,
In the Elizean arbusted groves,
Shall spread themselves 'fore you, as if you were
Tenants, or Farmers of those blessed shades,
It shall be a perpetuall Spring, where you
Inhabit, all disasterous dewes, and blasts
Shall strangers to your happy pastures be.
Come follow me, this my well-lighted flame
Shall light you unto Ceres Tempell, where
(Expecting you) they Nuptiall garlands weare,
That hold your hearts enain'd in their golden haire.

Exeunt.

Scena 6.

Chorus of Fairies.
Exeunt cantantes.