University of Virginia Library

Scen. 5.

AMYNTAS. NISO.
Amyntas.
Whether Oh Niso?

Nis.
To Amyntas, but
Whether without his Niso, doth Amyntas go?

Amyn.
Unto the Temple, I:

Niso.
And thither I will bear thee company.
But let me here Amyntas breath a while,
For I begin to faint; my hurt is cur'd,
But yet my feet tread not a steddy pace:
They tremble still, and still my dazling eyes
Deceive my sight, so that it seems my heart
Dare not rest confident on either part.

Amynt.
No marvel, since we scarcely yet have left
Those beds of sloth, wherein we both have lien
Wounded, and kept in dark obscurity
So long, that thrice the love-sick Moon hath woed
The Sun to re-inforce her borrowed light.

Niso.
Yet thou so lightly o'r these rugged fields
Do'st hast away, as I can scarce pursue
Thy foot-steeps with mine eyes.

Amynt.
O Niso! such a sweetness seems to breath
Of late, me-thinks, from earth and heaven both,
As 'tis no wonder if it do deceive
My trembling limbs, though faint with loss of blood,
Since it already hath deceiv'd my heart;
Which, as if I had never touch'd the ground,
Hath brought me flying hither.

Niso.
Some woody Deity perhaps hath caught
My gentle young Amyntas in his arms,
To waft him o'r the Plains.

Amynt.
Mock not, dear Nisis, no, it was a God,
Beleev't it was, but a celestial God;
No Godhead of the Woods, a God with wings,
That without wings can teach us men to fly.
But I disclose my self too far.

Niso.
Some jest or other now thou fain would'st put
Upon poor love, to laugh him stil to scorn:
But do not jest too far, Love is no Boy,
Beleeve me, Friend, that will be jested with.

Amynt.
Niso, thou do'st me wrong, I'm no such man;
Or if I be, 'tis thou led'st me the way.

Niso.
Who I? no, no, whilst we lay wounded both,
Nor Nymph, nor Shepheard came to visit us,
In whose discourse I found not something still
That did not point at thy neglect of love,
They told me that thou never mention'dst him
Without contempt and scorn, that in disdain
Of his great power, as Trophies of thy pride;
When other Shepheards in the long liv'd Oak,
Or in the tender bark of some young sprout
Had grav'd the marks of their eternal flame,
Thou there wouldst carve thy name, inlaced with
Th' inhumane title which proclaims the still
To be Amyntas the young Hunter, and to Love
An Enemy profest. And wilt thou now
Profess thy self a Lover?

Amynt.
This did I never do; but say I did,
Am I the first of Loves professed foes
Whom he hath overcome?

Niso.
I would thou wert, so I might see thee once
By Love in triumph brought into the troops
Of his sworn servants; then perhaps I might
With confidence unfold the wound that now
Lyes hid within, and grates my bleeding heart,
Whereas I yet dare scarce let go a sigh,
Lest thou shouldst once take notice when it breaths.
Woes me, how many have I forced back,
Even from my lips into my heart again!
And if at unawares one hath stoln out,
How have I fear'd lest while thou shouldst deride
My feeling passion, Love should in his rage
Let fly his Dart at me, for having spent
His treasures so profusely before those
Who do despise his power.

Amynt.
Niso, thou art deceiv'd; for even I
Can pitty others sighs, O that I could
As soon give ease to him that sighs for love!
Perhaps I might a Shepheard then restore
To life again, who now lyes at deaths door.
But thou that long hast learn't to know Loves wiles,
Hear but his case, and tell me then if yet
In all Loves kingdom there may be found out
A means to cure his ill.

Niso.
I in loves Kingdom nothing know, but how
With art to drop Salt tears upon the flame
That burns within my heart.
To weep and burn is all I know of love:
But is that Shepherd one whom I have seen?

Amyn.
Yes, thou hast seen him, and dost love him too,
As dearly as thy life.

Niso.
What's she for whom he mourns?

Amyn.
The fairest Nimph that ere these fruitful fields
Of Scyros here, have yet beheld display
The dangling Tresses of her golden Hair,
That every gentle blast might therein weave
A net to catch poor loving souls withal:
But more of her anone. Thou first shalt hear
The mournful story of her dying love:
Mournful indeed it is, and yet but short,
Since one short hour, brought him to misery:
Yet even he did once profess himself
Loves open enemy, till at the last,
His fate would have it so that by mis-chance
He too was wounded in his Nimphs defence:

Niso.
But for what cause?

Amyn.
That thou shalt know hereafter; now observe
The Nimph thus far took pitty of his hurt
That many a time and oft, she bath'd his wounds
In the distilled flouds of lukewarm tears,
And sweetly breathing on them with her sighs
She seem'd to murmur out some powerful charme,
With which she hop't to mitigate his pain,
But whilst his tender hearted Surgeon thus
Applyed her salves of pitty to his wounds
She struck him to the heart, when he poor soul,
Finding he had receiv'd a mortal blow,
Su'd for relief, but in an instance she
Turn'd all her pitty into cruelty,
And flying thence, as from a Basilisque,
Could never since be drawn to see him more.

Niso.
Oh my belov'd Amyntas, I must needs
Hug thee within these Armes, and kiss thee for
This pretty quaint disguise.

Amynt.
Canst thou imagine then who 'tis I mean?

Niso.
And canst thou think, I can be ignorant
Of him thou wouldst decipher, though his name
Be lock't up still in silence?

Amyn.
Do thou pronounce it then, for I confess
I blush so for him, that I dare not do't.

Niso.
I will, and (if thou do'st desire it) in a voyce
That's audible to all the world.
'Tis Niso, Niso, do not blush for me,
For I shall bless my fates that it is so.
Go thou that livest free from loves command,
And from his amorous bonds, lift up thy proud
Untamed Crest, to me this yoke is sweet,
And Niso doth profess himself to be
The Shepheard thus subdu'd to loves behest.
She that with pitty wounded him at first,
And kills him now with cruelty, is cal'd,
The fairest Celia, for Celia, alas
For Celia I burn, for her I sigh
It cannot be deny'd.

Amyn.
Though sigh for Celia? sure it cannot be,
Nor can I yet beleeve it can be so;
It is another fuel feeds thy flame,
And all thy sighs sound out another name.

Niso.
Wilt thou not then beleeve me? or is this
A gentle Artifice for my new love
To tax my fault, blame mine inconstancie?
If I have other fuel to my fire,
Or other heat to warme my fainting soul
That fuel is to Ashes burnt by this.
And all that heat extinguisht by this flame.
If any other name sound in my sighes,
'Tis barely then a name, a shaddow void
Of any subject, or a beauty spent
And long agone extinct,
But now for Celia in lively flames
I burn indeed, and so shall burning die,
Unless Amyntas help me speedily.

Amyn.
See, see, alas, he seeks to me for help
That gives me my deaths wound:
But I cannot beleeve thee yet; say how,
And when did Love possess thee thus?

Niso.
Whilst wounded there I lay, almost extinct,
Within the arms of death, the gentle gale
Of her sweet breathing sighs, under th' aspect
Of two heart-killing Stars (O fatal birth!)
My love at first took life,
And Love becoming thus the Son of Death,
In imitation of his Mothers power,
Kils me, and yet remains himself alive.
And thus I dye, yet even after death
My love must live, and love eternally.

Amynt.
Thus Love hath in one strait, and by one toyl
Within in one instant gain'd a double spoyl.

Niso.
As well then as thou feignest, thou do'st know
That under other shaddows thou hast now
From point to point declar'd my malady:
Nor can I tell how long my silence should
Thus blazon forth my wo.
Unless perhaps I told it in a dream,
Or talking idly at the point of death,
The Soul which then doth commonly reflect
More truly on her self, and so becomes
Far wiser than she was, hath publisht it
Of purpose, so to free her self from pain.
Or else, perhaps, to glory in the pride
Of that fierce cruelty that vanquisht me,
Fair Celia her self hath made it known.
Wilt thou not answer me, Amyntas, is't not so?
Amyntas, whither art thou gone out of thy self?
Thou seemest stupify'd, do'st thou not hear?
What strong imagination thus transports
Thy sences from their sence?

Amynt.
Doth Niso burn in love for Celia?
And is it true that he dissembles not?
But tell me then, what if another should
For love of Celia burn as well as he?
What saith thy heart, could it then leave to love?

Niso.
No, rather leave to live; ah me!
Thou strick'st my through, and through, if this be so
There is no way but death.

Amynt.
No, I'll dye first my self; clear up thy brow,
I spoke it but in jest.

Niso.
I prithee good Amyntas leave to use
Such bitter jests as these, they come too near:
I'll pardon thee this once, because thou hast
So little sense of Love.

Amynt.
What now is in my power shall be employ'd
To work thee some relief; but time goes on,
The Sun already from our Zenith bends
His course, to view the lowly Vales again,
And near the Temple old Narete staies
Attending, there to celebrate the pomp,
And solemn ceremonies of our Vow.
Come let's away, perhaps already he
Blames us for this delay.

Niso.
Go on, I'll follow thee: But if thou do'st
Desire indeed here to prolong my daies,
Defer not then a speedy remedy.
He that already hath shakt hands with death,
Hath little time to draw an idle broath.