University of Virginia Library

Scen: Prima.

Daphne.
Siluia.
I'st possible (Siluia) thou canst resolue
To spend the faire houres of thy flowring youth
With such contempt of Venus, and her Sonne;
And hast no more desire to be a mother,
And leaue a part of thee (when thou art dead)
Liuing behinde thee? Change (young fondling) change
Thy minde; and do not leade a life so strange.

Sil.
Daphne, let others pleasure take in loue,
(If in such thraledome any pleasure bee;)
The life I leade contents me well enough;
To chase the flying Deere ouer the lawne
With Hounde, or well-aym'de Flight, and while I finde
Shafts in my quiuer, and beasts for my pray,
I'le want no sport to passe the time away.

Da:
Fine sports no doubt, and sure a goodly life
For silly mindes that neuer tasted other,
And for that cause alone it pleases thee:
So duller ages heretofore could thinke
Acornes and water the best meate and drinke,
Before the vse of corne and wine was founde,
But now th'are onely eate and drunke by beastes:
And hadst thou but once proou'd the thousand part
Of the deare joyes those happy louers feele,
That truely loue, and are belou'd againe,
Thou wouldst with sighes repent thy time mispent,
And onely call a louers life Content.
And say, O my past springtyde, how in vaine
Spent I thy widowy nights? how many dayes
In fruitlesse lonenesse, which I now bewaile?
Why knew I not loues sweetes haue this condition
To bring new ioyes with eu'ry repetition?
Change, change thy minde (young silly one) and knowe
Too late repentance is a double woe.

Sil.
When I repent the thoughts I carry now,
Or say such words as these thou fayning framest
To sport thy selfe withall; the Floulds shall runne
Backe to their Springs, the Wolfe shall fearing flye
The silly Lambe, and the young Leurett shall
Pursue the speedy Grayhound ore the playne,
The Beare shall in the toyling Ocean breede,
And finny Dolphine on the mountaines feede.

Da:
I so, iust such another peeuish thing
Like thee was I, when I was of thy yeares;
So look'd, so pac'de, so goulden trest', so ruddy
My tysing lipp, so in my rising cheeke
The damaske rose was blowne; and I remember
Iust such as thine is now, my minde was then,
And eu'ne such silly pastimes as thine be
I likewise vsd'e; as with lim'd twiggs to catch
Vnwares the fethred singers in the wood,
Track the Deeres footing, till I had intrapt them
And such like; when a gentle louer woode me,
With such a peeuish grace hang downe the head
And blush for scorne I would, as oft thou doe'st;
And that vnseemely forme me thought became mee,
Nay eu'ne dislik'd what others lik'de in me,
So much I counted it a fault, and shame
To be desir'de or lou'de of any one;
But what cannot time bring to passe? and what
Cannot a true and faithfull louer do
With importunity, desert and loue?
And I confesse plainely the troth to thee
So was I vanquisht; nor with other armes
Then humble suff'rance, sighes, and pitty crauing:
But then I soone found in one short nights shade,
What the broade light of many hundred dayes
Could neuer teach me; then I could recall
My selfe, shake off my blinde simplicitie,
And sighing say, here Cinthia take thy bowe,
Quiuer, and horne, for I renounce thy life.
And I hope yet to see another day
Thy wilde thoughts bridled too, and thy hard brest
Yeeld, and growe softer at Aminta's plaints.
Is he not young and fresh, and louely too?
Does he not loue thee dearely', and thee alone?
For though belou'de of many Nymphes, he neuer
For others loue, or thy hate, leaues to loue thee.
Nor canst thou thinke him to meane borne for thee;
For (be thou daughter of Cidippe faire,
Whose sire was god of this our noble floud)
Yet is Aminta ould Siluanus heire,
Of the high seed of Pan the Shepherds god.
The sleeke-browd' Amarillis (if ere yet
In any fountaines glasse thou saw'st thy selfe)
Is not a whit lesse louely then thou art;
Yet all her sweet alurements he reiects,
And madly dotes on thy dispightfull loathings.
Well, but suppose now, (and the heau'ns forbid
It come to more then supposition)
That he falling from thee, his minde remooue,
And cleaue to her, that so deserues his loue;
What will become of thee then? with what eye
Wilt thou behould him in an others armes
Happily twyn'de, and thy selfe laught to scorne?

Sil:
Be it to' Aminta and his loues, as best
Shall like himselfe; I'me at a point for one;
And so he be not mine, be' he whose he list.
But mine he cannot be against my will,
Nor yet though he were mine, would I be his.

Da:
Fye, whence grows this thy hate?

Sil:
Why from his loue.

Da:
Too soft a syre to breed so rough a Sonne;
But who ere sawe Tygars of milde Lambes bred,
Or the blacke Rau'ne hatcht of a siluer Doue?
Thou dost but mocke me Siluia, dost thou not?

Sil:
I hate his loue, that doth my honour hate;
And lou'de him, whilst he sought what I could graunt.

Da:
Tis thou offend'st thy selfe; he doth but craue
The same for thee, that he desires to haue.

Sil:
I pre'thee Daphne either speake no more,
Or somwhat else that I may answer to.

Da:
See fondling see
How ill this peeuishnesse of youth becomes thee;
Tell me but this yet, if some other lou'de thee,
Is this the welcome thou wouldst giue his loue?

Sil:
Such and worse welcome they deserue, that ar
These theeues of silly maydes virginities,
Which you call louers, and I enimies.

Da:
Is the ramme then to th'ewe an enimy,
The bull to th'bayfer, is the turtle too,
An enemy to' his mate that loues him so?
And is the Spring the season of debate,
That (sweetly smiling) leades to coupling bands
The beast, the fish, the fowle, women and men?
And see'st thou not that e'ury thing that is,
Breathes now a soueraign ayre of loue, and sweetnesse,
Pleasure, and health? behold that Turtle there
With what a wooing murmur he sighes loue
To his belou'de; harke of yon Nitingall
That hops from bough to bough,
Singing I loue I loue; nay more then these,
The speckled Serpent layes his venim by,
And greedy runnes to' imbrace his loued one;
The Tygar loues, and the proud Lion too;
Thou onely sauadge more then sauadge beasts
Barr'st against loue thy more-then-yron brest.
But what speake I of Lions, Tygars, Snakes,
That sensible ar? why all these trees doe loue;
See with what amorous and redoubled twinings
The louing Vine her husband faire intangles;
The Beech tree loues the Beech, the Pine the Pine,
The Elme the Elme loues, and the Willows too
A mutuall languish for each other feele.
That Oake that seemes so rough and so impenitrable,
Doth no lesse feele the force of amorous flame;
And hadst thou but the spirit and sence of loue,
His hidden language thou wouldst vnderstand.
Wilt thou be lesse and worse then trees and plants,
In being thus an enimy to Loue?
Fye silli' one fie; these idle thoughts remooue.

Sil:
When I heare trees sighe (as belike they do)
I'le be content to bee a louer too.

Da:
Well, mock my words, laugh my aduice to scorne,
(Deaffe to Loues sound, and simple as thou art)
But goe thy wayes; be sure the time will come
When thou shalt flye from the now-loued fount
Where thou behold'st and so admyr'st thy selfe;
Fearing to view thy selfe so wrinkled fowle
As age will make thee; but I note not this
To thee aboue the rest, for though age be
Euill, 'tis so to all as well as thee.
Heard'st thou what Elpine spake this other day,
The reu'rend Elpine to the faire Licoris,
(Licoris whose eyes wrought vpon him that
Which his songs should haue wrought vpon her heart,
If Loue could learne but to giue each his due)
He tould it (Batto' and Thirsis being by,
Those two learn'd louers) in Auroras denne,
Ouer whose doore is writt—hence yee prophane,
Hye yee farre hence, which words he writt (sayd he)
That in that high pitch sang of loues and armes,
And when he dyed bequeath'd his pipe to him;
There was (he said) lowe in th'infernall lake
A dungeon darke, aye fill'd with noysom fumes
Breath'd from the furnaces of Acaron,
And there all cruell and ingratefull women
Liue in eternall horror, and ar fedd
With onely their owne bootelesse plaints and cryes.
Looke to't betimes, or I am sore afraide
There must a roome be taken vp for you,
To quite this cruelty to others vsd'e.
And 'twere but iustice, that those fumes should drawe
A sea of sorrow from those eyes of thine,
That pitty could ne're make to shed a teare:
Well, runne on thine owne course, and marke the ende.

Sil:
But what did then Licoris (pre'thee tell me)
What reply did shee make to Elpine's words?

Da:
How curious th'art in other folkes affaires,
And carelesse quite in what concernes thy selfe?
Why, with her eyes Licoris answer'd him.

Sil:
How could shee answer only with her eyes?

Da:
Yes; her faire eyes wrapt in a sunny smile,
Tould Elpine this; Her heart and we are thine;
More cannot she giue, nor must thou desire.
This were alone enough to satisfie
And serue for full reward to a chast louer,
That held her eyes as true as they were faire,
And put entire and harty trust in them.

Sil:
But wherfore does not he then trust her eyes?

Da:
I'le tell thee; know'st thou not what Thirsis writ
When hurryed so with loue, and loues disdaine
He wont to wander all about the woods,
In such a sort, as pitty moou'de, and laughter
Mong'st the young Swaines and Nymphes that gaz'de on him?
Yet writ he nought that laughter did deserue,
Though many things he did, deseru'd no lesse.
He writ it on the barkes of sundry trees,
And as the trees, so grew his verse. 'Twas this—
Deluding eyes, false mirhors of the heart,
Full well I finde how well yee can deceiue:
But what auailes, if loue inforce my will
To' imbrace your harmes, and dote vpon you still?

Sil:
Well thus we wast the time in ydle chatt,
And I had halfe forgot, that 'tis to day
We did appoint to meet in th'Oaken groue,
To hunt an houre; I pre'thee if thou wilt,
Stay for me till I haue in yon fresh fount
Layd off the sweat and dust that yesterday
I soyld me with, in chase of a swift Doe,
That at the length I ouertooke, and kill'de.

Da:
I'le stay for thee, and perhaps wash me too,
But first I'le home a while, and come againe,
For the daye's younger then it seemes to be.
Goe then, and stay there for me till I come;
And in the meane time, thinke on my aduice,
That more imports thee, then the chase, or fount;
And if thou dost not thinke so, thou must know
Thou little know'st; and ought'st thy iudgement bowe
To their direction that know more then thou.