University of Virginia Library

Scen. 3.

NISO. NEREA.
Niso.
Ah were but now Amyntas here
That he might know the story of my death,
And of her cruelty.

Ner.
He hath already heard, and griev'd to hear it.
I met with him when Celia went from me,
And told him all the sute that I had made
To her, and how unkindly she refus'd
To give an ear thereto, and him I left
Close by the River, mourning like a friend
For thy misfortune.

Niso.
Go on then, tell me, what didst thou reply?

Ner.
Ah cruel Nymph, said I then to her straight,
And wilt thou not admit a loving soul
Unhappy in his love, at least to tell
The nature of his grief?

Niso.
And she?

Ner.
There's not a Shepheard, she made answer then,
Whether a strange or a native born,
There's not a Shepheard that dares be so bold
As to importune Celia for her love,
Each man flies from me, every man thats wise
Locks up his words in silence, and if yet
There be a man that suffers for my sake
Let him relate his sorrows to the trees,
And be assur'd that trees and plants will prove
Less deaf than Celia, and more apt to love.

Niso.
O cruel and most savage heart!

Ner.
Tush this was nothing, her fierce angry looks
Spake more than did her tongue; for all her speech
Was full of such obscurity, as I
Could hardly understand her what she meant;
But then I saw her cheeks grow pale as death,
Her ruby lips too lost their colour quite,
I did not see her weep, but yet I saw
Her eyes full fraught with grief, though free from tears.
And then as if she had disdain'd her self,
And such fond looks as those, she shakt her head,
And suddainly her eyes grew red with rage,
And shot out flames of anger, till at last
I could perceive her in a threatning wise
Brandish her dart; I know not well at whom.

Niso.
At me without all doubt, and I my self,
Even I my self will straight present her with
This naked breast, and with this hand tear up
This wound again, which is but newly clos'd,
That so her Shaft may find a shorter way,
Yea and a wider passage to my heart:
And since that cruel she denies to hear
The story of my woes, she yet shall hear
The sad relation of my fatal death:
And so perhaps in that same point of time
When her fair hand shall fling her dart at me,
In that same happy point of time I may,
At least before I dye, say that I dye.

Ner.
Unhappy Shepheard! ah! alass, those eyes,
Those lovely eyes of thine must not alone
Drop brinish tears, but even I must needs
My self weep with thee too for company.
But Niso, my sweet youth ('tis fit I should
Give him some comfort) I will not deny
But it is true that Celia shew'd her self
Beyond all measure cruel, yet who knows
But that she may for all this counterfeit?
For my part Ile not swear she doth not so.
The art of feigning is by nature taught
To women, so said one, and she said true:
For from their very birth they can conceal
Their inward thoughts and though but children, yet
Under a frowning brow they have the art
In secret to conceal a loving heart.
But be she as she will, who yet can say
She may not change her mind? For women are
Like to the Moon, and vary both their looks
And shapes as well as she, if then they love,
Yet trust them not, despair not though they hate,
But give them time at least to change their thoughts.
Do'st thou not see the heavens in a trice
Both burn and freeze? It was but yesterday
When thou beganst to love, and scarce hast yet
Learnt to breath forth a sigh, 'tis not then time
Already to despair; a short breath'd sigh
Cannot through Loves vast ocean drive a soul
Into the port of rest, and full content:
Thou didst but now begin, and canst thou then
Despair already to attain thy wish?

Niso.
'Tis true, alass, my love but now begins,
But yet my life's already at an end:
For this confounding flame scarce kindled yet
Already hath consum'd my heart.

Ner.
But yet take heart again, and live by hope:
For be assur'd, no art that can be found
To rouse up love where most he lyes asleep,
Shall be left unattempted for thy sake.
Let's search out all Loves engins then, and try
The utmost of their forces one by one.
Tell me then, didst thou never yet make known
Thy love to her by any other means?
Didst thou not yet so much as in thy looks.
Or in thy sighs send to her frozen heart
The first embassages of love?

Niso.
Yes! but what profit have I gain'd?
When all my sighs breath'd through the empty air,
Were by the wind disperst ere they could come
Unto the breast to which I sent them forth?
And Looks, the messengers which lovers send
To them they love, are ever strucken dumb,
When onely he that sends them looks in vain,
And she to whom th'are sent looks not again.

Ner.
Didst thou say nothing to her when thou lay'st
Wounded, and hadst her ever by the side?

Niso.
Ah me! would death had shackled up my tongue,
Which love unhappily did then let loose:
For then it was she fled away so fast
As I could never see her since.

Ner.
And didst thou never since present her with
Some amorous token, pretty loving gift?

Niso.
Gift? heaven defend, tempt Celia with gifts?
To use a gentle Nymph as one would use
A covetous base croan? I should beleeve
With gifts to make a well bred heart become
Sooner an enemy than yeeld to love.

Ner.
If thou beleeve so, thou beleev'st amiss.
The heavens themselves are pleased with our gifts,
And hell is pacify'd, nor canst thou think
Women less covetous than heaven, nor yet
Less cruel than the deep infernal pit,
A gift, beleeve me, Niso, a rich gift
Is the great instrument of love, or tyrant rather,
Which doth command and rule love as it please.
Knowst thou not what Elpino, wise Elpino said?
That in the worlds first infancy when truth,
And pure simplicity made heart and tongue
Speak both one language: Nymphs that were in love
Could sing no other song but dona, dona,
Which in our later language sounds, give, give;
And therefore since, with double N (because
One gift will not suffice) a Woman is
In the Italian tongue call'd Donna now.
And if there be such wandring beggars stil,
As think it no disgrace unto their kind
To beg Love as an Alms: Then say not thou
That none but covetous base women will
Beg or receive a gift.

Niso.
Thou telst me wondrous things.

Ner.
But yet as clear as is the Sun, and know
That man is covetous that in his love
Spends, though by thousands, nothing else but sighs,
And looks, and words, and prayers, and trickling tears.
Yea though he joyn some little lyes to boot,
And make no conscience to be perjur'd too,
Let him but give a poor lean sucking lamb,
And he shall give therewith a greater proof
Of his true love then all the rest can bring:
For women now adaies can onely trust
A giving love, all else are but deceit,
And 'tis but reason that his love who gives
Should conquer all, their greatest cruelty,
Since it hath conquer'd his base covetise,
A monster far more cruel.

Niso.
Alass, if it be true then that a gift
Contains that power in it to overcome
Her yet untam'd, unconquer'd cruelty,
This heart, this soul, this all, what e'r I am,
Even all my self, I give unto her will.

Ner.
Alass, poor man, this is the gift which all
Poor Lovers give their loves with open hands,
A heart, a soul, are of too great a price,
I would not for a world (my Son) no, no,
I would not have thee be so prodigal;
Keep them (love) for thy self, and let thy gift
Be of less value, but yet more desir'd.

Niso.
I, a poor stranger in these parts, devoyd
Of lands and flocks, from whence shall I obtain
A gift that's worth the sending? here,
Give her this dart, 'tis not to be despis'd;
Mark both the pile and shaft.

Ner.
The pile is sharp and piercing, and the shaft
Pithie and straight, fitted as they should be,
To dart at savage beasts in the wild woods,
But for fair Celia's hand (to speak the truth)
For her soft tender hand it seems too big,
And sure she cannot weild it.

Niso.
What thinkst thou of this horn?

Ner.
Oh! I of horns am a great Mistress too,
And did present her one the other day;
And with your patience be it spoke, perhaps
Farier than that.

Niso.
Then now I have bethought me of a gift,
May happily seem not unworthy of
Fair Celia her self.

Ner.
Is it about thy neck?

Niso.
Is't not a fair one Nerea? see.

Ner.
What's this that shines so? take it off, that so
I may the better view it.

Niso.
Have patience; so, 'tis now undone.

Ner.
Ah, what a pure white neck he hath! I scarce
Could hold from kissing it.

Niso.
O sad remembrance of my former love,
And of my by-past happiness: Go now,
For heaven ordains thee to a better fate:
Behold it Nerea.

Ner.
Ah! who did ever see a braver thing?
It looks, as 'twere all gold.

Niso.
And 'tis all gold: But go and see if thou
With it canst purchase me my life again:
Defer no time, what do'st thou muse upon?

Ner.
Niso, to tell thee true, she went from me
So troubled, and so full of high disdain
As I have cause to fear she never will
Give ear to me again; or if she doe
That, yet I shall not have the power to win
A favour from her, therefore it were fit
Some other should present this gift to her.

Niso.
If Nerea thou forsake me, I am lost.

Ner.
Have patience, heaven it self is on our side:
Seest thou that Nymph that yonder comes that way?
If the bright glistering of her scattered hair
With too much beauty dazle not mine eyes
'Tis Cloris, or 'tis rather she, because
Mine eyes do dazle, and from thence I know
'Tis she indeed; for there is none that can
Display such golden locks before the Sun.
It must be Cloris, who alone is she
That hath fair Celia's heart: Cloris it is,
Than whom in Scyros Celia never knew
A true friend: Oh happy thou if she
Will but conveigh thy gift.

Niso.
But I am no way known to her, do thou
Do thou speak for me, and entreat her help.