University of Virginia Library

Actus Tertius.

Scena Prima.

Thirsis.
Chorus.
O sauadge cruelty'; O th'ungratefull minde
Of a most most vngratefull Mayde; O Sexe
Full of ingratitude: and thou lewd Nature,
Nigligent mistresse, and maker of things,
Wherefore, ah wherefore mad'st thou womankinde
So faire, and sweet, and milde ouely without;
And didst forget to make their insides good?
Poore youth, I feare 'has made away himselfe
Ere this; alas I cannot finde him out:
Three houres from place to place, & wher I left him
Haue I bin seeking him; but cannot finde
Or him, or any print of his strai'd foot:
Sure sure hee's dead.
I will goe aske you Swaines I see, if they
Can tell me any tydings of him. Friends
Did you not see Aminta, 'or happly heare
Newes of him lately?

Cho:
Thou dost seeme to me
Full of distraction, what is't troubles thee?
How cam'st thou so'out of breath, and to sweat so?
What ayl'st thou? say what is't thou fear'st or wantest;

Thi:
I feare Amintas harmes; tell me I pray'
Saw yee him not?

Cho:
Not since he went with you
Awhile agon; but what d'yee feare in him.

Thi:
Alas I feare
Lest he haue slaine himselfe with his owne hand.

Cho:
Slaine with his owne hand? how so? what might cause
Such vengeance on himselfe?

Thi:
VVhy loue, and hate.

Chor:
Two powerfull enemies:
VVhat cannot they doe, when they meet together?
But speake yet clearer.

Thir:
His too much loue, and her too much disdaine
VVhom he lou'd so.

Cho:
Ah tell thy story out;
This is a way of passage, and ere long
Perhaps some one will bring vs newes of him,
Or himselfe come.

Thi:
I'le tell it willingly;
For 'tis not iust that such ingratitude
Should rest without the due deserued blame.
Aminta heard (and I had told it him,
And was his conduct too, the gods forgiue mee)
That Siluia was with Daphne gone to' a Founte
To wash themselues; thither then (not without
A thousand doubts and feares in him) we went;
And twenty times we turn'd againe, (his heart
Being all against it,) but that I was faine
Almost against his will to force him onn;
But drawing neere vnto the Fount, we heard
A sadd lamenting voice; and all at once
Daphne wee spy'de wringing her hands, and straite
Seeing vs comming, ah runne, runne (shee cryes)
Siluia's deflowr'd. Th'inamoured Aminta
No sooner heard it, but swift as a Pard
He flung away; and I made after him:
Nor farre we went, when loe before our eyes
We saw the young mayde nak'd as at her birth,
Fast fettr'd by the faire haire to a tree;
About whose branches in a thousand knotts
The curles were link'd, and entertwin'de, the girdle
That wont to decke, and guard her mayden loynes,
Seru'd as an actor in her rauishment;
Binding her armes about the trees hard trunke,
The tree it selfe became a helper too,
For by her feete a branch or two grew out,
Which (easie bending) both her tender leggs
Had fastned to the tree; and face to face
A beastly Satyr stood; who but eu'ne then
Had newly made an ende of binding her,
All the defence shee could (poore soule) shee made;
But sure 'twould haue but little steeded her,
Had not we come. Aminta with his dart
Flue like a Lyon
Vpon the Satyr; and I gathered stones;
VVhereat he fledd; and gaue Aminta leasure
To feast his greedy eyes with her faire limbes,
VVhich trembling seem'd as tender, white, & soft,
As vnprest curds new from the whay diuided.
Full was her face of anger, griefe, and spight;
He gently accosting her with modest lookes,
Spake thus; O louely Siluia pardon me;
Pardon my hands for daring to approache
So neere these beauteous limbes of thine; alas
It is necessity inforceth them,
Necessitie t'unloose these bands of thine;
And let it (I beseech thee) not displease thee,
That Fate has rais'd them to this happinesse.

Cho:
VVords that would mollifie a heart of flint;
But what reply made shee?

Thir:
VVhy none at all.
But with a looke full of disdaine, hung downe
The head, and hidd her faire lapp all shee could;
He stood vnbrayding her intangled' tresses,
And sighing said (the whiles,) O how vnworthy
Is this rude trunke of so faire knots as these?
See what aduantage haue Loues votaries,
That (like this tree) haue with so pretious bands
Their hearts entwin'd: Cruell plant, couldst thou she
This haire thus iniur'd, that thus honours thee?
Then with his hands her hands he faire vnlooz'd,
In such a sort, as that he seem'd affraide
To touch them, yet desir'd to touch them still:
Then stoop'd he downe t'untye her feet; when shee
Finding her late bound hands at libertie,
Said with a scornefull, and disdayning looke;
Shepherd, I am Diana's; touch me not;
Leaue me, I shall vnbinde my feete my selfe.

Cho:
Ah that the soft breast of a mayde should harbor
Such pride; O Curtesie full ill repayde.

Thir:
Straite he with reuerence withdrew himselfe,
Not lifting once his eyes to looke on her;
Barring himselfe of his delight; that shee
Might lay no blame on his immodestie.
I that was hid neere hand, and saw all this,
And heard it all, was eu'ne exclaiming on her,
But that I curb'd my selfe; see the strange creature;
After she was with much adoe got loose,
Away shee hurryed strait, swift as a Doe,
Without so much as 'Thanke yee, or farewell;
And yet knew well, shee had no cause to feare;
So modest and respectfull was Aminta.

Cho:
Why fled she then?

Th:
Perhaps she thought it shew'd
Better; and argued more her modestie.

Cho:
Her foule ingratitude: but what did then,
VVhat said the poore Aminta?

Thir:
I cannot tell.
For (angry) after her I ranne amaine
To haue oretane, and staid her; but in vaine;
For soone I lost her; and againe returning
Vnto the Fountaine where I left Aminta,
I found him not; and my heart much misgiues me
Of some selfe ill befalne him; for I knowe
He was resolu'd (before this hapned him)
To ende his life and miseries together.

Cho:
It is the common vse and art of Louers
To threaten their owne deaths; but rarely shall
Wee see th'effect in any of them all.

Thi:
Pray heau'ne he be not of those rare ones then.

Cho:
Tush feare him not.

Thi:
Well I'le downe to the Caue
Of the sage Elpine; thither he perhaps
Will be retyr'de, if he be yet aliue;
For there he wont full oft to'allay and ease
The rage of his bitter calamities,
With the sweet sound of Elpines Reeds; that winn
And draw with their alluring voice, to heare them,
The hard stones from the craggy mountaine topps;
Make flouds and waterfounts runne with pure milke;
And oft the rough bark'd trees against their kindes
Distill sweet honny from their bitter rindes.

Scen: Secunda.

Aminta
, Daphne, Nerina.
Pittilesse (Daphne) was that Pitty of thine,
When thou held'st backe the dart; because my death
Will but more painefull be, the more delay'de:
And now, why doest thou stay me trifling thus,
And hold me' in vaine with these thy long discourses?
If thou beest fearefull of my death, thou fear'st
My happinesse.

Daph.
Leaue leaue Aminta
This thy vniust despaire: I know her well;
And 'twas her bashfulnesse, not cruelty,
That made her runne away so fast from thee.

Am:
Ah that my onely friend must be Dispaire,
Seeing that onely Hope hath bredd my ruyne:
And yet it would be breeding in my brest
Againe, and bid me liue; when, what can bee
A greater ill to so great misery,
Then still to liue, but to be still vnhappy?

Da:
Why liue yet, liue with thy vnhappines;
And beare it for thy greater happines
When the time comes; think what thou lately saw'st
In the faire naked one, and let that serue thee
For a reward sufficient for thy hope,
And make thee in loue with life.

Am:
'Twas not enough
For loue, and fortune, that I was before,
So wretched, as I scarsly could be more;
But that I must be shew'd (t'augment my ill)
Part of my blisse, yet go without it still.

Ner:
Must I be then the Rauen, and sinister
Relater of so bitter newes? O wretched,
Wretched Montano; ah what wilt thou do,
When thou shalt heare the sad, and killing story
Of thy owne only Siluia? poore olde man,
Most haplesse father of a hapless childe;
Ah now no father.

Da:
I doe heare a sad
Lamenting voyce.

Am:
I heare the name of Siluia,
That strikes mine eare, and my heart through at once;
But who is't names her?

Da:
'Tis I thinke the Nimphe
Nerina, shee whom Dian loues so well,
That has so liuely eyes, and louely hands,
And so becomming a behauiour.

Ner:
Yet he shall know it; and go gather vp
Th'vnhappy reliques, (if yet any be;)
Ah Siluia Siluia, O accursed fate.

Am:
Ay mee, what meanes this Nimph? what say's shee?

Ner:
Daphne?

Da:
Nerina? what's the matter that thou nam'st
Siluia so oft, and sigh'st at eu'ry word?

Ner:
There's cause enough Daphne; ah too too much.

Am:
Ay mee I feele, I feele my brest so full
Of yce, my breath halfe stopt; liues shee, or no?

Da:
Tell vs all, tell the worst Nerina.

Ner:
O heau'n,
Must I be then th'vnhappy' historian?
And yet it's fit I tell my sad tale out.
Silu'ia starnak'd (whereof yee know perhaps
The cause) came to our house, where being clad,
Shee afterward desir'd me I would goe
A hunting with her, as it was before
Appointed, to the Groue of Okes, (for so
The place yee know is call'd;) I did agree;
And onn we went, and found there many Nimphes
Gath'red together; not farr off, behold
Rusheth a huge Wolfe foorth, whose yawning iawes
Foam'd with a bloudy froth; Siluia then neare him
Let flie a shaft at him; and in his head
The arrow light; he tooke the wood againe,
And shee at heeles persu'd him with a Dart
Into the wood.—

Am:
Ah sorrowfull beginning,
I feare, I feare a sad conclusion.

Ner:
I with an other Dart follow'd their footing;
But setting out too late, was cast farr off;
And hauing gain'd the wood, I lost the sight
Of them; yet kept their track, and ranne so farr,
Till I was got into the desertest
And thickest of the wood; at length I found
(And tooke vp) Siluias Dart vpon the ground;
And not farr off a white vaile, which (ere while)
I did my selfe binde vp her haire withall;
And whilst I look'd about me', I spi'de seu'n Wolues
Licking bloud off the ground, that scatt'red lay
About a few bare bones; and 'twas my hap
To scape vnseene, while they so earnestly
Minded their pray.
I full of feare turn'd back, and came my way.
And this is all that I can say of Siluia;
And heere's the vaile.

Am:
Th'hast sayd, th'hast sayd enough;
O bloud, O vayle, O Siluia, 'dead dead—

Dap:
Poore youth he dyes; he's dead; ay me he's dead
With griefe.

Ner:
He breath's yet, he's but in a traunce;
Tarry he comes againe t'himselfe.

Am:
O griefe,
Why do'st, why do'st thou thus torment me?
And wilt not end me? th'art vniust. Perhaps
Thou leau'st the worke to my owne hand: I am,
I am content it shall be my owne care;
Since thou wilt not, or canst not doe't; Ay mee,
Ay mee if nothing want to make this cleere,
And nothing want to make my miseries
Now brimfull; why do' I linger? why do I stay?
O Daphne Daphne, was it to this end,
This bitter, bitter end thou didst reserue me?
My death had then bin sweet, and pleasing to me,
When thou and heau'n held back my Dart, and sau'd me;
Heau'n that was lothe (belike) I should preuent
With death, the woes it has prepar'd for me;
But now't has done the very worst it can,
I hope both heau'n, and you may suffer me
To dye in peace.

Da:
Stay yet, stay wretch, and learne
The trueth yet better.

Am:
Ah the trueth is such,
'Iue stay'd too long, alas I'ue heard too much.

Ner:
Ay mee, wretch that I am, why did I speake?

Am:
Gentle Nimphe, let me craue that vayle of thee,
The poore remaynder of her; that it may
Accompanie me for these fewe sad houres
Of way, and life yet left me; and increase
That martirdom, that were no martirdom
Were it not much more then enough to kill me.

Ner:
Shall I denie't, or shall I giue it him?
The cause he askes it for, bids me retaine it.

Am:
Cruell Nimphe, to deny me' a grace so small
In my extremity; and eu'n I see
How in each trifle fortune crosseth mee.
I yeeld, I yeeld; long may it bide with thee:
Long liue yee; my way to my death must bee.

Da:
Aminta stay, Aminta', a word Aminta,
Harke, stay; alas how swift he flyes away.

Ner:
He runnes so fast, t'will be in vaine for vs
To follow him; 'twere best I onward went
Vpon my way; and yet perhaps 'twere better
I stay'd, and held my peace, then my selfe be
Author of poore Montano's misery.

Chorus.
Death , there is no neede of thee:
Loue alone, and Constancie
Ar enough (without thy Dart)
To tyre vpon an honest heart.
Yet so hard is not the way
To Loues fame, as many say;
For Loue no price but loue regards;
And with it selfe, it selfe rewards.
And oft in seeking it, is found
Glory that liues, when we are vnder ground.