University of Virginia Library

Actus 1.

Scena 1.

Gripus.
Hegio.
VVhen gaudy Flora in her prime
Observing it was Summer-time
With fragrant flowers of each day
Had made our mother Tellus gay,
The new borne plumed minstrills fills
The smiling heaven and ecchoing hills,
With chirping musick, ev'ry grone
Was made their quire.—Olympick Iove
Commanded Aprels balmy shoures,
To refresh the March bred flowers,
And May perfection in each field
To Aprils suckling babes to yield.
The spring perfumed this brood, whose smell
The Phenix nest might paralell.
Now did approach the festivall
Of god Silvanus nuptiall
To his groue haunting Clarida,
Then all the Faunes keept holyday.
The nimble faries danc't, and all
The dieties agresticall.
Claius and kind Phisipile
Vow'd loving Man and wife to be.
So Clodin did to Colatine,
So Serin to his Eglatine,
So Cloris did to Coridon,
And so delt sheapheards many a one.
At length imploring love to be
So propitious vnto me,
To Mira the faire sheapheardesse
In courteous wise, I did addresse
My hand, my heart, my cap, my coyne,
With all the good I could conjoyne,
But she coy thing, refus'd to prove
What gentle Hymen is, or loue.
As pevish Daphne fled away
From the illustrator of the day;
Even so my sight coy Mira flies,
My sighes she slights, my suit denies.
When glorious Sol hath turn'd his back,
And all the world is hung with black.
Sleepe (natures soft-nurse) flyes my eyes,
My mind's ore-cast as are the skies.
When vailes are drawne, and dim fac'd night
Have againe resign'd her right.
To Phosphorus traine, when Titans head,
Is washed from his Sea-greene bed,
To shew his hoary looks, my griefe
'Gaine urge my tongue to beg reliefe
To ease my minde, you Gods above,
Or let me dye, or make her love.

Hegio.
Propitious more betide the friend, good day,
Joves spangled Canopie protect thee still;
May he himselfe from's Saphire colour'd throne
Descend to be thy guardian, good day.

Gripus.
Wish me good day? it stands in idle stead,
My Mira's coy, all my good dayes are dead.

Hegio.
Cheare up sad Gripus, or the cause declare,
Why thou art thus plung'd in a deepe fit of
Unprofitable melancholy, what?
Hast made a case of spissified teares
For thy swoll'n eyes, which are to limbicks turn'd
Through which a running pearly torrent flow
That lay the dust thy stamping feet doth raise.
What unexpected stratagem have thus
Perplext thy minde, exil'd thy judgement, and
Condens'd thy understanding, and betray'd
Thy spirits to disquiet passions.
As frolick and as joviall I have knowne thee,
As any of Paris followers, why then
Dost terminate the sad Catastrophe
And period of each sentence, with a sigh,
A deepe, a farre-fetcht-sigh, such as would seeme
The stuctures rafters for to cleave in sunder,
But where such griefe I find, needs must I wonder.

Gripus.
Cupid hath fixt a golden shaft in me,
Which makes me love, but into Mira's breast
Have shot a leaden, a hate-causing dart,
To love, and not to be belov'd againe,
Is misery counted by each rustick Swaine.

Hegio.
Is love thy doloriferous disease?
Quench, quench those smothring sparks, lest suffered
They kindle, and increase into a flame,
An inauspicious, and perpetuall flame.
And like the glowing Amazonian cell,
Scorch all that doe approch it nigh, and last
Like fire-spitting Ætna wast its selfe.
Amour la fut jamais ou sans peur, ou sans pleurs.
Love never was without both feares and teares.
Let then the bucket of thy courage stout,
Draw so much reason out of the noble well
Of thy understanding, as soone will quench
This childish, and unmanly agony.
What sad disterous torches Hymens light
At every nuptiall? what unfortuate hands
Sincke in the circle of the wedding ring,
Nought breed in bridal sheets, but pinching feares,
Iarres, discontents, suspitions, jelousies,
Which nought but parting death can terminate.
If kinder Hymen prove propitious,
And vexe thee not with these; a barren wombe,
A curse as cruell, may annoy thee still,
Or else abortive births thy joy may kill.
Or if with setled hope her time she goes,
And then invite Lucina to her throwes,
Or by hood-winkt mischance, or open blame,
Why may not Atropos for Lucina come.
If that infest thee not, tis small delight
To see a little wanton ride a cock-horse
Upon a painted staffe, or heare him chatter,
Like a taught Sterling, Parret, or hoarse pye.
I'de rather fill a barne full then a bed;
More profit tis to have a crooked plough
Still going, then a tottering cradle rocke.
But more then that, these I terme foolish men,
(But foolish is the Amorists epithite,
Ou peut a peine aymer ensemble estre sage,
One scarse can be both wife, and love, together)
That ere will trust their honour in a Burke,
Made of so flight weake bulrush as woman,
Apt every fleeting minute for to sincke it.
And how canst thou expect fidelity,
In the disloyall sex call'd feminine.
Remember fiftie sisters, Belus daughters,
Who all (save one) made of their husbands slaughters.
And both th' Atrides had their envied lives
Endanger'd by the falsehood of their wives.
Euriphile (false Hag) her husband sould
To Poliayces for a chaine of gould.
And Queene Euridice conspired
How to deliver to grim visag'd death
Her regall Lord, and husband to enthrone
In his voyd roome her fancied Sonne in Law.
The fierce Medea did delacerate
Absyrtus tender members, to escape
Her Fathers pursute, if we may rely
On the report of sage Antiquity.

Grip.
Thou pleadst against thy selfe, Ile turn the point
Of thy last daggar into thine owne breast.
Thou sayst Medea tore in twaine her brother
Absyrtus, tis confest, 'twas to discover
Her ardent, and firme setled desire
To follow Jason, ungratefull Jason,
Who after that, left her and all her charmes,
To clap another Lady in his armes.
So have I seene a Horse-leach oft embrace,
Cleave to and hang upon some bloud-swoln face,
Till its owne turne be serv'd, it holdeth fast,
Untill his panch be full, then drop at last.
But to our taske. Penelope liv'd chaste,
Though twice five years her royall Lord was gone,
Did not Æneas flie, and leave his sword
To let out over-credulous Dido's bloud.
When as Hiero blam'd his wife, 'cause she,
Never inform'd him of his stinking breath.
I thought (quoth she) that all mens breaths smelt so.
Arria when Petus was condem'd to dye,
First stab'd her selfe, then giving him the steele,
This wound (deare Petus grieves me not quoth she)
But that which thou must give thy self grieves me.
The Minians wives having obtained leave,
To say valete to their dying Lords,
Exchang'd their habits, and expos'd themselves
(In their escaped Spouses roomes) unto
The penalty of the offended Law.
Dona the partner of her husbands woe,
With him a long way (as his Page) did goe.
When Conrad gave the Matrons leave to beare,
From Weinsberg foe-girt town what best they lik't,
Each tooke up her owne husband on her backe.
Cornelia Annia did prostrate lye,
On her defunct Lords Sepulchre, and dye;
For this cause annually a paire of Doves
Are sacrific'd to their firme setled loves.
And happy Phillacides loyall wife,
From death redeem'd him with the losse of life.
But in my uncertaine waies hath Phillis gone.
To find her runnagate Demophoon.

Hegio.
Humanum est errare, I confesse,
Both sexes then are faulty; but what else
Doe thy deluded eyes discover in
Thy Mira, that thy heart should fancy her.
Ist for her skin-deep beauty (her chiefest pride)
That's but times fading flowre, which as tis
Most delicate, is as volatious.
Its like unto the Colours Phidias drew,
Which seemed most admirable to the view,
But suddenly did vanish and impaire,
At the weake puff of each aeriall breath.
A wife is but a faire affliction.
Symonides reputed her to be,
The Shipwrack of a man, the tempest of
A house, the troubler of quiet rest.
A prison of life, a plague assiduall,
A sumptuous conflict, a necessary evill,
A horrible care, an ordinary battell,
A dayly hinderance, the humane slavery,
A faire Aspe, an inevitable paine,
A pleasant damage, a domestick strife.
If then coy Mira scorne with thee to dwell,
On earth leave her to leade bruit Apes in hell.

Gripus.
Quote not these Accherontick Anchorites.
Those stollid moatheaten Foolosophers,
That libell against Angels, those night-birds
That doe defile even their owne nests, nay worse,
That strangle sacrilegiously the fames
Of their owne mothers; Those ungracious brats
That impiously requite with Stygian Inke
The Nectar which indugently they lent them.
Heed not the hissing of that viperous brood
Of Parricides to their own mothers names.
A female is the second part of man,
She is a male i'th the newest edition,
A wife's the best of her Lords movable.
For such a one fierce Champions have prov'd tame,
The stoutest Souldiers trembled, and look wan,
Ready to give their ghost up at a frowne,
The oracles of wit and Philosophy,
Have been loves fooles, and bent their litterature,
But to expresse great loves Supremacie,
And the extent of its Dominions.
Nay under Venus sacred Ensignes march,
Etheriall troopes of high mounted gods.

Hegio.
Well, each man as he likes, but should the mad
Disloyall Sycophant, whose spheare is woe,
Attempt to shoot a raving shaft at me,
In's many peeces I would make't recoile
Upon his corps, as there be golden sands,
In the Pactolian or Tagean shores.

Gripus.
Cease, cease, good Hegio, to repine at love,
Atlantas pace was staid by golden balls.
And gods themselves are oft ensnar'd by love,
For they have slipt beyond their skill in that,
They have made beauty of a greater force
Then they themselves are able to resist.
For Læda, Jove became a wandring Swan,
And for Europia a loud lowing Bull,
And for Antiopa a Satyre rude,
And for bright Danae a storme of Ore.
Did not Apollo leave his burnish't throne,
Lay by his tresses? and in humane shape,
Most humbly beg a boone at beauties gate?
Did not Alcides for Jole's sake
With huge oft draw the slender threed.
He was tane captive by his captives looke,
She tooke the Conquerour that had her tooke.
Kind Paris for to steale his dainty peece,
Travell'd as farre as betwixt Troy and Greece.
And Perseus amongst the Negroes sought,
And faire Andromade from Jnde brought.
Cupid can make the Regall Lyon sport,
In amorous dalliance with the frisking Kid.
Venus can yoake the ravenous and fell kite,
With milder Swans in the same Chariot;
Immane rapacious Eagles she can linck
And timorous silver-brested Doves together.
When she commands all animalls lay by
Their contrarieties, and antipathy.

Exit.
Hegio.
Enjoy, sir, your conceit, but for my part,
I am invulnerable, thou blind Boy
Shalt never take me captive, I am like
Achilles dipt in Styx, nor doe I feare
Thy boy-ships shafts, goe play with angry Bees
And painted Butterflies, and at the Wasps nest,
And when th' art stung, in thy mams lap goe rest.

Scena 2.

Venus.
Cupid.
Hearke Cupid and revenge, this prophane Swaine
Do's slight thy quiver, and blaspheme thy bow,
He sayes he's shot-proofe, scornes thy archery,
Scoffes at thy skill.

Cupid.
Ile penetrate his heart,
Ile make him be an earnest Votary
Unto a marble-hearted female Saint.
Ile melt to amorous thoughts his soule of stone,
Ile torture 'm in loves torrid, frigid Zone.
Ile make him in the same flames freez, and fry,
The world shall be inamour'd of his woe,
Ile find a Shepherdesse in whom he'le joy,
And this his darling I will soone infect
With coynesse and with nicenesse, for her sake.
His morning Orisons shall nothing be
But numbers of innumerable sighs,
Which he shall count by pearly teares, not beads.
Ile make the cherries of her ruby lips
The onely cordials for to sustain
His loathed life, and those shall be like to
Fugacia poma, which like Tantalus
He alwaies shall desire, and alwaies misse.
Ile make him view the place where she hath set,
And thither he shall repaire, as if he thought,
The place some soveraigne vertue did containe
To ease him, and to cure his gnawing paine.

Venus.
Let him not wander far from home to seeke
Deepe streames in which to wash his frisking flockes.
Let such uncessant flouds flow from his eyes
As may supply the want of rivolets,
Let his pin'd cheekes and hollow countenance,
Affight all wolves from his secure sheepe,
Let him spend all his daies in pinching griefe,
And melancholy discontents; and looke
Like to a wither'd tree o're-growne with drosse.
Let his illetable and pensive sighes,
Scare all rapacious, and omenous Ravens
From picking out the eyes of his young Lambs
Bleating for nutriment unto their dammes.

Cupid.
Innumerable such effects as these,
Shall all be caus'd by this keen pointed dart.
When as the long-tongu'd Lord of envious light,
Whose presence make the day, whose absence night.
Betray'd my mother, and the god of warre.
Unto the sooty, black, club-footed dolt,
As he was tempering of a thunder-bolt,
For to revenge this wrong, I made him prove,
The power of my golden shaft and love.
And I will make this Hegio soone confesse,
I am a god, and of the starry race.
He shoots.
Now lay thy hatred downe, thy spite decline,
And prove a votarie at Daris shrine.

Exeunt.

Scena 3.

Hegio
solus.
But sure I was not borne Minerva-like?
Nor did fond Paracelsus teach my Sire
To make a man without conjunction,
What furious madnesse did possesse my brest
To flout at love? and wrong the femal sex?
And to requite in a sharpe Satyrs straine,
The roundelayes, and charming lullabies,
That my indulgent genetrix did warble?
What are my braines grown dry, or my bloud cold?
Or am I on a sudden waxen old?
I thought, though Cupids aire-deviding shaft,
Soone penetrated the well tempered
Corsset: which the hot-halting god of fire,
Made for his boysterous rivall, it should not find,
Or make a way to vulnerate my mind.
And therefore Venus I blaspem'd thy sonne,
But now I sing a Palinodia.
Alas I have beheld that lovely face
That from her eyes shot Cupids into mine,
T'abuse my sight, and worke upon my frailty,
With their smooth oratory to undoe me,
Among thy other trophies let me be,
Kind Cupid, Hertan Porrigo to thee,
Me thinks soft love hath lately made a breach
Into the batter'd bulworks of my breast,
And there commandeth all my yeelding powers,
Which now insulteth in their vassalage.
One looke hath struck my soule into a feaver,
Me thinks affection whispereth in my eare
Faire Daris name, Daris the shepherdesse;
An object beautified with the choice gifts
Of liberall nature, and of vertue too,
My wandring eye hath made my heart receive
So good opinon of the forenam'd Nymph,
And hourely it solliciteth my tongue,
To trie my fortune, and to let it know,
Whether its like in Daris love to rest
In happy blisse, and blissefull happinesse;
Which if deny'd, its suddenly prepared,
To leave my skelliton unto grim death.
But courage Hegio, let not cold despaire
Chill thy greene, and wide-gaping wounds too fast;
She is a woman, and she may be wonne,
Venus Adonis lov'd, why may not she
Prove love-sick too, and at length fancie me:
Shall I be bashfull then, and so expire
With griefe; fie, fie, what shall a womans eye
Prevaile so farre o're me to cause me dye,
And leave my name in the fooles Callender,
And there be noted with a rubie letter,
For a supereminent Festivall;
No, I am loath to leave earth yet, Ile try
If I may live, and find a remedie.

Exit

Scena 4.

Chorus of Faires.
Exeunt.