University of Virginia Library

Act. 5.

Scen. 1.

PERINDO.
O sacriledge! the royal image of
Our mighty Lord, the King of mighty Kings,
Before whose throne so many knees doe bow
His Image on the ground? See thou divine,
Thou sacred Idol, low to thee I bend,
And prostrate at thy foot thus lay my head;
But thou unhappy wretch who ere thou art,
Out of whose hand the sacred image fell:
Who ere thou art, thou dyest, nor can he live
'Gainst whom high heaven is so far incens'd
As to permit him cast his life away
With his own proper hands. But who was he
Who was that impious wretch? how shall we learn
A way to find him out? This Task must be
Orontes care, within whose power doth rest
The law it self, much more the punishment;
To him I flye, and 'tis enough for me
If I make him acquainted with the fact.
But I may wander well out of my way.
Yet I was here (if I mistake it not)
This very morning with Oronte, yes,
This is the very place, and this the path
By which we came, by this we did return,
And tis the shorter way. Shepheard, O ho!
The ready way unto the tents?

Scen. 2.

Narete, Cloris.
Nar.
Directly forward Sir: Though to such beasts
Such barbarous beasts as thou, the better way
Were that which leads unto the horrid den,
Of an accursed death. I did beleeve
I should come short of finding Celia here,
But it imports not much, since she was left
In so good hands, and now my care must be
Imployed here. Come on good daughter, come.

Clo.
Courteous Narete let me now return
Alone unto my wonted solitude.

Nar.
No, no, thy grief is such I will not trust
Thy life in thine own hands: Ile see to that,
High heaven for thy safety more then hers,
Guided my steps to seek for wholsom hearbs,
There where I found thee dying in despair.

Clo.
What a strange pitty's this, Narete, know
I am already dead, nor have I left
Or heart, or soul, and whilst thou dost deny
Me leave to dye, thou onely dost restrain
This body from a tomb, not me from death,
And canst thou take delight then thus to drag
About the fields unburied carkasses?

Nar.
Thou shalt not have thy will, unless at least
Thou tell me first the cause of thy despair.

Clo.
See where he comes, ah me!

Nar.
Who comes? why dost thou hide thy self?

Scen: 3.

Narete, Niso, Cloris.

Look daughter it is Niso; Niso, ho!
Where hast thou left thy Celia? whats become
Of young Amyntas that I see him not?

Niso.
O my Narete, in how short a space
How great a change is wrought in me, 'tis strange
That thou shouldst know me now, I am no more
That Niso that I was, nor can I say
That now I live: fair Celia's no more mine,
Amyntas is with her, and they are gone
To seek out Cloris; and 'tis Cloris I
Am seeking too, canst thou then tell me where
Alive or dead fair Cloris may be found?

Nar.
She is alive, and is not far from hence;
But what is this thou sayst? and whats the cause
That thus doth trouble and perplex thy thoughts?

Niso.
That thou shalt hear anon, but tell me first
Where Cloris is; and is she then alive?
Is she not far from hence?

Clo.
And yet I cannot but behold his face:
O with what sweetness under those fair locks
Lyes maskt so false a heart?

Nar.
See where she is:
Cloris come forth, 'tis Niso, child, come forth.

Niso.
Ah me, Ime dead!

Nar.
Thou heardst but even now, that Celia, he,
And young Amyntas ran from place to place
To seek thee out, and thou from thence mayst see
How Nymphs and Shepheards are perplexed with
The rumour of thy death.

Niso.
And could I see the light of those fair eyes,
Blind that I am, and yet not know them straight?

Clo.
Thou dost not know this man, Narete, if
The rumour of my death have troubled him,
It is delight, not pitty doth disturb
His fancy then: 'Twas he that caus'd my death,
And he but comes to glory in it now.

Nar.
Caus'd he thy death? Niso dost thou not hear
What 'tis she saith?

Niso.
Alass, what shall become of me? can I
Yet have the heart to speak to her? can she
With patience hearken unto what I say?

Nar.
He answers not, nor can I understand
What 'tis he mutters to himself apart.

Niso.
Love at so great a need inspire my heart,
Grant me those looks are worthy of my grief,
Do thou direct my words:
Phillis! ah my dear Phillis! Ah me!

Nar.
Phillis, art thou, or Cloris?

Niso.
Ah me I cannot, sighs will stop my words.

Narete.
Shee's so besides her self, she takes no care
What 'tis I say: But tell me Niso, then.

Niso.
Phillis, my dearest soul:

Narete.
My dearest soul? this phrase too sounds of love,
But sure my voice decays, and that's the cause,
I am not understoop.

Niso.
I was deceiv'd, poor soul, I was deceiv'd.

Narete.
I may be yet a silent looker on,
And see a wonder here.

Niso.
O do not turn thy face another way,
Perhaps thou thinkest by denying thus
That lovely visage to these eyes of mine
To punish my misdeeds, but think not so,
Look on me still, and mark me what I say,
For, if thou knowst it not, Ile tell thee then
A more severe revenger of thy wrongs,
Thou canst not have then those fair eyes of thine,
Which by those shining beams that wound my heart,
Punish me more then all the world can do.
What greater pain can'st thou inflict on me,
Then still to keep as fire before my face
That lovely beauty, which I have betrayd?
That beauty I have lost? I have done ill,
Wretch that I am, I have done very ill:
And though I do complain, beleeve not yet
I hope to purchase pardon by my plaints:
I know too well, that from this breast of mine,
And from these eyes, which could both sigh and weep
For others love, No sigh, no tear can fall,
Which can have power to purchase ought of thee
And since that nothing but my death can please,
Let then my death beg pardon for my fault,
Such powerful Sutors should not be deny'd.
Deny not then the thing it onely craves,
For I will dye, and do thou pardon me,
That's all I beg, both for my wandring soul
And for this frame when it is turn'd to dust.

Cloris.
Shepherd the Heavens know, and love can tell
Whether thou hast done ill, or no, he can
Punish thy fault, and let him pardon thee,
I a mean Silly Shepherdess, a poor
Abused maid, forsaken, and forlorn.
Have no disdain, which he need to regard,
Who did so slenderly regard my love.

Niso.
Ah me!

Clo.
Ah Thirsis! Thirsis!

Narete.
Phillis was she before, now Thirsis he.

Clo.
Thou falsifier of those amorous sighs,
Can it be thou that mournest? can it be?
And thou that hast already kill'd me thus;
Can it be thou that with such fervent zeal,
Desirest now to dye, and dye for me?
Cannot thy stony heart rest satisfied
With my tormenting pain, unless thou strive
Even in thy pitty to be cruel too?
'Tis faigned pitty, and those sighs are faign'd:
I know them too too well, faign'd are thy tears,
Thy grief is feign'd, and feigned thy desire;
Yet can I not endure to see thee greeve,
Thou I am sure thou dost but feign to greeve,
The very naming of thy death affrights
My poor afflicted soul: be quiet then
And live, since thou hast one will dye for thee:
Live and in peace enjoy thy new lov'd love,
In which if thou hadst freedom by the bruit,
Of my supposed (and perhaps, by thee
Long wisht for death) I do not now desire
My life should be the accuser of thy faults,
Or interrupt thy joys: No I will dye,
Take courage then, Ile dye, and pray the Heavens
They may not arm their fierce revengeful wrath,
Against thy faults, for if thou didst offend
This heart endures for thee such horrid pains
That heaven may well accept my sufferings
For all thy foul offence: Why say I mine?
No they are thine I had them all from thee,
And I endure them all to set thee free.

Scen. 4.

Melisso, Niso, Cloris, Narete.
Mel.
O Cloris ! how I tremble yet!)
Dost thou not know (my child) nor do not you
Kind Shepheards, know who is that wofull wight
That most unhappy wight that on the ground
Did cast the proud insulting image of
The Thracian Emperour?

Niso.
And why with so much fear dost thou desire
To know the man?

Mel.
Ah if thou know him, go and bid him fly,
Fly swift away, or he's but a dead man;
And shall we not be gone too daughter? for
Here come the Thracians hard at hand: And now
In greater rage than ever.

Clo.
Why should I fly away from Thracians now
When Thracians are to me my best beloved?

Niso.
But why should that man dye? and for what cause?

Mel.
Their barbarous Law condemns him, thats enough.
Cloris lets go; dost thou not know too well?
Hast thou forgot? lets go.

Nar.
I prethee stay and tell me what new wo
Their barbarous fury brings us, which is still
Fruitfull in bringing forth our miseries.

Mel.
Ile tel you then, but yet do you mean while
Look well about lest any of them come.
The Thracians have a Law, that wheresoere
The royal image of their tyrant Lord
Shall be by any seen, it shall be there
By him ador'd.
And 'tis no less than forfeit of his life,
Who shall by chance on set purpose shew
The least contempt to it whoere he be.

Nar.
Inhumane Law, see if proud man cannot
Exhalt his horns so high, till towring up
At last he doth confront even heaven it self.

Niso.
Shepheard proceed.

Mel.
The Captain with his troops was going up
Unto the Temple there to see brought in
The tribute of our children which we pay,
And I conceal'd within the bushes sate
To view them as they past, when one of them,
Who sure did come this way, addrest himself
Unto their Captain, and thus humbly said,
Behold, great Sir (and gave him in his hand
I know not what, but sure it was of Gold,
For in those bushes I could see no more,
And scarcely could perceive the gold to shine)
Behold (quoth) he the sacred image here
Which even now, I found upon the bank
Of a swift running stream, O sacriledg?
I found it there cast down upon the ground
Without respect to him whose shape it bears.
At which the rest foaming with rage and ire,
I know not whether out of custom, or
As an effect of fury, rent their clothes:
And then the Captain taking by the hand
Him that had brought the news of that misdeed
Withdrew aside, and talking with him there,
I by a secret path thence stole away:
And sure they cannot be far off; but see,
See where they come: ah daughter lets away.

Nar.
No, for by going thus, they may conceive
Thee guilty of the fact.

Scen. 5.

Oronte, Niso, Cloris, Melisso, Narete, Perindo.
Oront.
For ceatain this is it, this is the Ring,
I know't exceeding well: but yet the Law,
The Law is plain against the faulty man,
And he without all hope must lose his head
Who cast the royal image on the ground.

Niso.
Now Phillis thou shalt see whether my grief
And my desire be feigned yea or no.

Oront.
If I can find the wretch, if I can find
But who it was that did possess this Ring.

Niso.
He's found already, Sir, and comes to take
At thy great hands deserved punishment.
The Ring is mine, and I am he that threw
The royal image here upon the ground:
This is the faulty hand, and this the head
Condemned for the fact to be cut off.
Send for the sword then that it may revenge
So capital a crime.

Mel.
O desperate attempt! come let us flie,
Lets fly, my dearest Cloris, hence from death.

Clo.
Fly thou unto the place that likes thee best;
For I must seek my life by meeting death.
Sir, this man labours but to find the means
To dye for me.
The Ring is mine, and this the neck which now
It hath encompast many years; for see
It bears the fresh impressions of it still.
The Ring is mine, and I—

Niso.
Ah Cloris!

Nar.
Ah me!

Perind.
Shepheards forbear, keep silence, and take heed
That no man dare to move his foot or tongue.

Oront.
Thou Nymph goe on.

Clo.
The Ring is mine, and I was she that threw
The royal image here upon the ground:
And if by dying I may satisfie
For such a foul offence, let no man else
Pay for the forfeit I have made; for I,
Even I too have a head, which once cut off,
And separated from this liveless trunk
Can find a way to fall, and drench in blood
The fatal sword which shall revenge the wrong
Offer'd unto this sacred image here.

Niso.
O peace a while! great Sir she raves for love,
And it will not become you to give ear
Unto the dreams and fancies of a Soul
Grown frantick in her Passion; it is true
And I will not deny but that she hath
Her part in that same fatal ring, but yet
No share at all in the offence; for when,
Or where was it she threw it, or who can
Bear witnesse of the fact? I threw it there,
Just there before you, on that craggy cliffe
Which to the River lends a rugged Path,
I know the place full well.

Per.
'Tis true, and there close by the River side
I took it up.

Niso.
Fillino saw me when I threw it there,
Poor simple Fillino, who wants the wit
To frame a Lie, and he will witnesse it.

Clo.
Cruel! though thou hast rob'd me of
Both life and soul, permit me yet at least
The liberty to die.

Oro.
What do'st thou say Perindo? me thinks now
In these their riper looks, I do perceive
The lively semblance of that sweet aspect
Their younger age did bear.

Niso.
Do'st thou my Phillis haply grieve to see
That I that am thus guilty of thy death,
Should die for any other cause but thine?

Per.
See what a strife love works, sure these are they
These are those pretty little Lovers, mark
How love himself is grown up with their age,
And he that like a Child in Thracia, seem'd
To play the little wanton in affection, now
Shews forth a perfect love, which draws them thus
(Do you observe it) to contend and strive
How death in one may th'other keep alive.

Oron.
Tel me young maid thy name, where wer't thou born?
Who was thy father? tell me that.

Mel.
Her name is Cloris and Melisso mine,
She is my daughter, and we both were born
Within the fruitful fields of Smyrna.

Cloris.
Cloris of Smyrna, and the daughter of
Melisso, I was cal'd, whilst I desir'd,
Under these feigned names, to fly from death,
But now I am no more that Cloris, no
I now am Phillis, and in Thracia
Some time I liv'd, that Phillis I am now,
Whose death thy cruel Lord so much desires.
More of my self I know not, this may serve
If onely now thou aymest at my death.

Oron.
Cheating old dotard, darst thou then to me
With such an impudent, and shameless face
Vent thy pernitious lies?

Mel.
Mercy great Sir, mercy I crave, my life,
Lies now within your power.
Arban of Smyrna, tursted to my care
The charge of this young maid, and to avoyd
Both hers, and his, and mine own danger, thus
I labour'd to conceal the truth.

Oron.
Thou speak'st confusedly still, nor am I yet
Well satisfied in what I did demand.
Tell me in plainer terms, how first she came
To live within thy power.

Mel.
Sir, I will tell you, but restrain a while,
Your just incensed rage: Ah me!

Oron.
Leave off those sighs, and answer me with speed.

Mel.
Then when the King of Smyrna did assault
The Thracians confines with his armed Troops,
One of his men (that Arban, whom but now
I named to you) took as prisoners.
This Nimph then but a child, and with her too,
A Boy about her age.

Niso.
And lo.

Oron.
Peace, not a word, but thou go on.

Mel.
Their looks, their cloaths, and their behaviour
Seem'd to declare their fortune was not mean:
And therefore Arban much delighted with
So rare a booty, fearing least the King
Might afterwards deprive him of his joy,
Keeps them conceal'd: Nor cares he to obey
A strict decree that every souldier should
Deposite in his Royal hands such spoyls,
And all such prisoners, as he had got.
Mean while the King of Thracia, full of rage,
With threatening terms, demands his children back.
Nor can I tell whether that strict demand
Proceeded from desire to see them dead.

Clo.
Oh? did not Arban, tell thee that it did?
Hast thou not told me so a thousand times?
From whence then on a suddain rise these doubts?

Mel.
Arban 'tis true, did tell me so, but yet
Perhaps with art he feign'd it purposely,
You Sir, are like to know.

Oro.
I know full well, proceed

Mel.
The King of Thracia, urgeth his demand
The King of Smyrna, hears no news of them,
And yet desires to send them back to Thrace,
So to appease the high displeasure of
His now incensed enemy, and to obtain
A speedy wisht for peace.
And therefore straight proclames just punishment
To him that should conceal, and large reward
To him that should discover what he sought.
Arban that fear'd his yet conceal'd theft,
At last might come to light, conveighs them both
By night unto the neighbouring mountains, where
He oft times us'd to hunt, and there be chang'd
Their habit, and their names, fully resolv'd
They should unknown lead a rude ruttick life,
In country base attire, and that the one
Might not be by the other sooner known:
To me he gave this maiden and the boy,
Unto Dametas, an inhabitant
Of a remoter tract:
Besides as one that knew 'twas ill to trust
Two loving souls in two such tender breasts,
He made the two young lovers each beleeve,
The other surely dead.

Oron.
And how from Smyrna then, art thou become
A dweller here in Scyros?

Mel.
The fury of the War increased still,
And as if it intended to assault
High heaven it self, it first ascended up
Into those towring hills, and I,
Poor I alas, when I beheld with grief,
An inundation of fierce armed men,
To break in round about, when I beheld
Troops of proud furious horsemen swarm below,
And fill the neighbouring Vales, when I did hear
The shril mouth'd Trumpets eccho from the hills,
With fearfull Birds, and harmlesse heards of Beasts,
I took me to my flight, and hither came,
Where my Progenitors at first did live,
I flying came to Scyros, but Ay me!
Where can we flie from that which Heaven wills,
Since the great power of Heaven all places fills?

Oro.
And of the youth?

Mel.
I can tell nothing more of him.

Niso.
If for his death thou askest after him,
Great sir, he is not far, behold me here,
I am that Thirsis whom Arbano gave
Unto Dametas, and with him I liv'd
Untill last April, when the warmer Sun,
Return'd again to melt the Icy snow,
Then I alone within a steerlesse Bark,
By an impetuous torrent far from help,
Was driven off to sea, where onely fate
Provided me of Sails, and in short space
I know not how, but I was safe convey'd,
And cast upon this Shore.

Clo.
Sir I begin to faint, grief breaks my heart,
And if thou make not hast, it will deprive
Thee of the honour of my death.

Niso.
Give ear to me, Sir, and let her alone
At least till I be dead.

Oro.
I do both hear, and understand enough,
I see that both of you desire to die,
And I wil give you both content.

Per.
Alas, what wil you do Sir?

Oro.
Perindo peace.

Mel.
Ay me, I go, for 'tis not possible
That living I should here behold my death.

Oro.
But let us go unto the Temple straight
That in a place of greater eminence,
And with more solemn pomp, th'Imperial will
Of the Grand Signor may be there fullfil'd,
And see you follow me. come on.

Niso.
O Phillis!

Clo.
O Thirsis, ay me!

Niso.
Sir, if it be resolv'd that by your hand
I shall receive my death, you must resolve
To kill me then, before she dying, force
My soul out of this breast.

Clo.
No, no, if you kill him before I die,
Your Pomp will be but short, for at one blow,
We both shal fall to ground.

Nar.
O cruel strife of love! where cursed death
Leads him in triumph that proves Conqueror.

Scen. 6.

Narete.
And is it true? and am I not trans-form'd
With cold amazement yet unto a Stone?
Have I a voice still, and yet do not send
Loud exclamation up to Heaven above?
O wretched off-spring! Oh unfortunate
Unhappy Lovers! you are carried now
Unto the Temple, harmlesse innocent,
There to be made a horrid sacrifice,
And love that sees this, who would ere beleev't?
Even love himself doth put the fatal knife
Into the Tyrants hand.
Could not our own sad miseries suffice,
Woes me! but strangers too must come
From forreign parts, to adde the mournfull Pomp
Of their sad ruine to our endlesse Woes?
Why do the Heavens lend their glorious light
Still to these Fields? And why about this shore
Doth still the sea, contain his angry Waves?
And neither heaven yet doth hide his light
Nor yet the Sea ore-flow this wretched Isle
Alass for pitty let these sinful fields
Now made the horrid stage of wrath and ire
Be overwhelm'd by inundation,
And so conceal'd under the raging waves
Of a tumultuous Sea.

Scen. 7.

Ormino, Sireno, Narete.
Orm.
Whence dost thou come Sireno?

Sir.
From the Temple straight.
But from that Temple dear Ormino which
Is now become to us the Theater
Of wo and misery, I fly from thence,
From whence and from the sorrows which it brings.
Pitty it self, for pitty flies away.

Nar.
Do'st thou Sireno from the Temple fly?
And from the horrid spectacle it shews?
But how couldst thou have notice with such speed
Of that sad sight? have they then wings to fly
So soon unto their death? It cannot be
That when thou camst from thence, Oronte should
Be with th' unhappy couple there arriv'd.

Sir.
Oronte, no; but with their ill born babes
The mournfull mothers are already brought
To pay their tribute in the temple,
O sad sight!
They there are drawn together in a troop,
Like to feerful heard that stands amaz'd,
Encompast round with cruel forragets
Ready to seize the spoyl;
They clasp their little children in their arms,
And with sad weeping eyes behold them so,
As whilst their sorrows sends distilling drops
Down to their bosoms, the poor infants suck
More tears then milk from their unhappy breasts:
And that same troop of cruel hellish curs
Encircle them about, and view their prey
With devillish delight, impatient yet
Of any small delay, since now the wind
Sends prosperous blasts to fill their wicked sails.

Orm.
O most inhumane tribute! endless wo,
And infinite misfortune, that men should
Thus generate their children to become
Slaves to their foes, and fathers be constrain'd
To mourn more at the birth then at the death
Of their unhappy ofspring.

Nar.
But I speak of another misery,
The tribute is inhumane, 'tis most true,
But yet a more inhumane cruelty
Is like to make the temple now become
A bloody Theater, whereto the fierce,
The hellish Idol of a pittiless
Inexorable Godhead, to th'incens'd
And raging fury of those snarling dogs,
For having here despis'd the image of
That proud insulting tyrant, even now
Oronte is gone up to sacrifice
Two young unhappy lovers.

Or.
O you celestial powers shall then mans blood
Thus guiltless shed, defile those altars which
Are dedicated to your deities?

Sir.
Alass, me thinks I see the Temple shake,
And totter under their revengefull hand,
As too too weak to undergo their rage,
It needs must fall to ruin, and the walls
Must of necessity by tumbling down
As from a precipice, upon their foul,
Their wicked heads, revenge the lasting shame
Of such a horrid fact.

Orm.
But what occasion, or what wicked rite
Doth move their impious sword to offer up
So infamous a sacrifice?

Nar.
'Twere too too long to tel, I scarcely have
Breath left enough to sigh.

Orm.
Yet tell me who those woful wretches are.

Nar.
Niso and Cloris, poor unhappy souls.

Orm.
O cruel destiny!

Sir.
Cloris the fair young daughter of Melisso here?

Nar.
The very same, but Niso is no more
That Niso that he was, nor Cloris now
Is Cloris or Melisso's daughter but
They both have other names, and both were born
To other fortunes, other strange events.

Orm.
What names? what fortunes? or what strange events?

Nar.
The name of Niso now is Thirsis.

Orm.
Ay me!

Nar.
Of Cloris if I well remember it,
Is Phillis.

Orm.
Ay me! Sireno.

Siren.
Ormino!
Thirsis and Phillis were our children call'd,
Whom in their infancy they took for Slaves
And carried into Thrace.
Who knows but they are they, for if they live
Still to this hour, they must be of their age
And like to them youthfull and fair.

Nar.
Your children these, fie fie, restrain your fears,
Leave off so fond a thought, I blush for shame,
Your children (mark me) those young Imps whom once
They carried into Thracia for Slaves,
Must now with in the grand Seraglio,
If now they live, amongst those Troops of Slaves
With shaved heads, lead a most slavish life,
Dis-figured so as they can scarce be known
By those that gave them suck: where these
Richly adorn'd, within the Thracian fields
Were in the Wars there by a Souldier
Of Smyrna taken Prisoners; and are not then
Poor Shepheards children, but of that discent,
As that their fortunes have had power to move
Cares, and disdains, desires, and fears, and wars
And that in mighty Kings.

Sir.
Ay me! no more Narete.

Orm.
Ay me! they are the same.

Nar.
Ay me! how can that be?

Scen. 8.

Serpilla, Ormino, Sireno, Narete.
Serp.
What mournful Ay me's, what indiscreet
Importunate laments, does thus per turbe,
Our comon joys, in which both earth & heaven
Do seem to smile upon this happy Isle?
Narete, Siren', and Ormino too.
You happy Shepheards of these happy fields,
You blessed fathers of an issue blest,
Cease from your sad laments, and chear again
Those mournful voices now grown hoarse with cryes,
Dry up those eyes, and let them weep no more,
Or if they weep let them weep tears of joy,
And not of grief, for lo behold I come
The cheerfull messenger of happy news.

Orm.
Siren' what can this be?

Sir.
Alass I cannot see which way to hope
For the least shew of comfort.

Nar.
O soul abased by excessive grief,
Canst thou repose so little confidence
In heaven which can do wonders?

Serp.
Go presently unto the temple, go
And there see Thirsis and his Phillis too,
See both your children there, whom long ago
You gave for lost, and mourn for now as dead.
Go to the temple, and you there shall see
Amyntas and his Celia, both of them
Your children too, and enemies before,
Profest to love, who yet were even now
For love both hasting to a wilful death:
Why do I hold you thus, and one by one
Declare your joyes? go to the temple straight,
And there behold this Isle, this little Isle,
Fill'd with as great a joy, as much content
As such a little Isle can comprehend.
The sad despairing lovers are espous'd,
This Island from an horrid tribute freed.
The day is come, O thousand thousand times
Most happy day, the day is come when once
This little Isle is set at liberty.

Sir.
O you supernal powers!

Orm.
Serpilla!

Ser.
But
Why doe you still delay the time, the hours,
The flitting hours of mans quick fading life
Are too too short, and too too long the woes
That doe attend it still, doe not retard your bliss,
Go to the temple straight, go you your selves
And their behold your joyes.

Sir.
Lets go Ormino, lets go, that once
Yet ere we dye these eyes of ours may be
Blest with this unexpected happiness.

Orm.
Lets go but whither? thou Sireno guide
My fainting steps, for I know not which way
To move my trembling foot.

Scen: 9.

Narete, Serpilla.
Nar.
Here me Serpilla, stay, I held my peace
With pain 'tis true, but yet I held my peace,
Nor would I let my doubts disturb the joyes
Of these two good old Shepheards here, but yet
I understand them not, thou do'st let loose
With too too large a stream, the torrent of
So many comforts on a narrow heart,
Infuse it gently therefore drop by drop,
And tel me first, that Thirsis, and that Phillis which
Before were Niso, and fair Cloris call'd,
Those whom but now the Thracian Captain led
To a most certain death, shall they now live?

Serp.
They both shall live, and are become withall
The most contented happy lovers that
Ere yet did sigh for love.

Nar.
And was it not then true, that for desire,
Cruel desire of their long wisht for death,
The Thracian Emperour did with such rage
Demand them of the King of Smirna?

Serp.
That I cannot tell, but sure I am that Thrace
Is th'onely authour of their happiness.

Nar.
Yet Cloris did affirm it here, but she
Was certainly deceiv'd by the fraud
Of him in Smirna that conceal'd them both,
And with good cause Melisso did suspect
That he did but dissemble what he said,
That so they both of them for fear of death
Might labour with the greater art to keep
Themselves from being known.

Serp.
'Tis true Oronte saith it too.

Nar.
O then how vain is humane providence?
He sought to cover that by fear of death
Which now desire of death hath brought to light.
But for the fault about the hoop of gold
Which here was carelesly thrown on the ground
For the contempt against the image shewn,
How could Oronte find a means to save
The guilty person thus against the Law?

Serp.
Their case was dangerous and for my part
I gave them both for dead, and mourned for
Their hard mishap; but see how it fell out,
Wearied with following Niso whom I sought,
I sate me down close by the temple side,
Where straight a rumour was disperst abroad,
I know not well from whence, that all in hast
Oronte then was coming, and did bring
Unto the temple two unhappy wights,
Before condemn'd to dye for their contempt
Unto the royal image of his Lord:
At whose sad coming the proud Thracians seem'd
To laugh for joy, and so from thousand tongues
Sent forth one cry that reacht to heaven it self,
Exclaming let him dye, O let him dye:
But presently Oronte darts about
A fierce imperious look, at which they all
Amaz'd in silence mutter'd not a word
When he reply'd, Hear O you Thracians, hear
The supream Laws of Thrace have onely force
Within the Thracian Empire, and against
Those that do serve the Thracian Emperour,
But Scyros is not as you now beleeve
Subject unto that Empire, hear your selves
Th' Imperial decree which in this Ring,
This very Ring it self, in which engrav'd
The royal Image stands, is written here
In fair Egyptian Charracters, and then
Ile read it with a voyce so audible,
And I with that attention heard it read,
And have it fixed so within my heart,
As I dare confidently swear I can
Repeat it word for word.

Nar.
O then repeat it as thou hop'st for bliss.

Serp.
“Phillis, and Thirsis, two descended from
“Sireno, and Ormino, when they come,
“Where ever Heaven shines, there let me know
“Love made them lovers, faith combin'd them so
“That they were both contracted: Destiny
“Had made them slaves; the King hath set them free
“And for their sakes, Scyros is from this day
“Free'd from the tribute which it us'd to pay,
Thus he: (and casting then a look that way)
These (he replied) these are those happy two
Whom their more gracious stars could make so dear
To Heaven, and to their King, these same are they
I know them very well, let that suffice
To you O Thracians: And do you two live
(Quoth he) then turning with a gentle smile
To those two happy lovers) live you still
And live still to enjoy your constant love,
By free possession of your spousal rites.
Let these sad Mothers take into their Arms
Again their little children, and let all
With chearful acclamations sound aloud,
The liberty of Scyros.

Nar.
O amongst all whom the blest sun doth warm
With his reviving heat, and when the Sea
Bathes with his quiet waves, dearly belov'd,
And by Celestial providence now made
Most happy Isle! the winds shall now no more
Conveigh thy mournful sighs, above the waves,
After thy dear lost children: but the babes
Whom thou do'st generate, shall bless their birth,
And be by thee sustained whilest they live,
And when they dye rest in thy graves in peace,
That so thou mayst to thy dear issue be
A fruitful Mother, and a careful Nurse,
And left a Tombe to free them from the curse,
Of wandring souls, that find no sepulchres,
But Phillis, then and Thirsis, what said they,
Or how did they behave themselves?

Serp.
Their first encounter was, (like such as seem'd
Retir'd for fear, and much perplexed with
The suddain tremblings of a doubtful heart)
Bashful and nice, and being thereto drawn
Even by Orontes self, who joyn'd their hands
They seemed to embrace unwillingly,
And kiss as 'twere by force;
But having fuel thus put to their fire,
It quickly then encreased to a flame,
And each hug'd other so, as you may see,
The twining Ivy when it seeks to clasp,
A full grown Elme, as if it seem'd to say
It could not well subsist without that stay.
Then might you see from one to others mouth
A thousand kisses in an instant sent,
And whilst their amorous lips as overcharg'd
Stood sucking here, and there loves Nectar thus,
That sweetness, followed, and that Rubie Die,
So grac't those lips as that they seem'd to me
Flowers that did bear both honey, and the Bee,
So that at last you might perceive the cleer,
And lively beams of their quick piercing eyes,
Grow faint and dul, as overcome with sence
Of too much pleasure, and extream delight,
And I that saw it, sayd within my self
Ah me! 'twere to be fear'd these two would dye,
But that ther's hope that in a skirmish of
So many kisses, neithers soul can find
A way to vanish, and leave them behinde.

Narete.
And could poor Phillis then so soon put off
The thought of her disdain? could she so soon
Forget the injury of that new flame
Wherein her Thirsis burnt for Celia?

Serp.
It seems that yet thou do'st not understan
The laws of loves kind duels, thou must know
A venie of sweet kisses one to one is able to give satisfaction
For any injury love can sustain:
But if thou dost consider all things well
Tirsis did her no wrong, he was deceiv'd,
And did beleeve her dead; and tis well known
That loves great empire though't be vast and larg,
Doth not extend beyond the bounds of life,
Love hath no jurisdiction ore the dead,
Nor can his fire raise any kindly heat
Amongst those frozen reliques, those cold bones:
Besides all this, if any mark can rest
Of fault in Thirsis, he hath shed those tears
That may suffice to wash away the stain,
And what can she have more? poor soul in deep
Repentance for his errour, he did here
Submit himself to death, and happy was
That Errour that could find a way to make
So generous amends.
Or rather happy was that errour which
By erring thus could find a way to make
So many blest, whom it did not offend.
His love to Celia was the happy cause
Of all our happiness, for thence it came
That Thirsis was first known to Phillis, then
Phillis to him, and last of all, that both
Were to the Thracians known.

Nar.
Thou saist exceeding true, and now behold
How full of windings and obscurity
Those secret wayes are, which the Gods do use.
Who would have thought them so? in sum 'tis true
That heaven is a labyrinth, in which
Who seeks to spy out what th'eternal fates
Have there decreed may easily lose himself.
But then I fear least Celia's fervent love
Which yet is fuming hot, should still disturb
If not young Thirsis with his late quencht heat,
Yet Phillis with a jealous freezing cold,
'Tis not a task of easie labour thus
Within an instant to extinguish quite
Both love and jealousie.

Serp.
What is it thou do'st dream? if Thirsis be
Son to Ormino, must he not then be Brother to Celia too?

Nar.
Forgetfull that I am! these many strange
And unexpected changes, have almost
Depriv'd me of my sence: Thirsis it is true
A brother unto Celia, and their love
Must now be at an end. But what becomes
Of Celia and of Amyntas then?
I cannot yet conceive a way to find
A wisht for end to their despairing greef.

Serp.
In that same very point of time (behold
A fatal point of time) they came unto
The Temple: Where fair Celia sees fast tied
Within the arms of Phillis her belov'd,
And yet beleeved Niso, guess you then
What posture she was in: She straight grew pale
With jealous rage, and cold as any stone
And that she died not then, I think the cause
Was onely that her grief pend up her soul
Within her frozen heart.
Thirsis that saw it, quickly freed himself
From those imbraces wherewithall he held
His Phillis in his Arms: And running straight
Unto her said. O my dear Celia.
My dearest Sister, but no more my love,
I am Ormino's son, Thirsis, and so
Become thy brother, our affections er'd
For nature should have guided them, not love,
Let us submit then to a lawfull love,
And spend our erring flames, where they may find
Fit objects for their heat.
She whom I did beleeve dead long ago
Is sister to Amyntas, and my spouse,
Espoused to me in her infancy,
Thou that art now my Sister shalt enjoy
Amyntas for thy husband, both your loves
Deserve it well, and I am well content
All that did hear him, smil'd, and she that yet
Amaz'd perhaps at such a sudden change
Well understood it not, when more at large
And more distinctly she had been inform'd,
Her fancy freed her heart inlightened with
The sence of truth, made her clear up her looks
And give a cheerfull smile.

Nar.
But then what said she?

Serp.
Nothing but half asham'd she did cast down
Her eyes unto the ground, when yet her heart
Sent through her eyes, two gentle tears that fell
Like tears of joy and gladnesse, to declare
The sweet content she found.

Nar.
O thou most blest Amyntas who hath kept
The laws of love, and friendship so intire
As that 'mongst friends and lovers thou may'st raise
Statues of joy, and of eternal praise.
O thou most blessed Celia! see the Hervens
Have hitherto been pious lookers on,
And pittifull beholders of thy woes
O heaven! O earth! O sea! O we most happy all!
But you dear lovers above all the rest,
Phillis and Thirsis, O for ever blest!

Serp.
Since thou art satisfied, I now will go
And tell these joyfull news in other parts.

Nar.
See how the heavens in an instant have
Dissolv'd the most intricate hard knots,
That ever turning fortune yet did knit,
And that when unto humane reason they
Appear'd indissolable: such the strange
Eternal power is of high providence,
And now may future ages fill their Scenes
With stories of our unexpected joy
Such is the Will of heaven, in disport,
And in th' Abissus of his secret power,
Thus to confound poor silly mortal men,
You therefore that with high presumption think
By humane wisdom to discover all
The secret workings of eternal fate.
Learn from this wonderfull successe, to know
That he alone can see these sacred things
Who shuts his eyes, and trusts what heaven brings.