University of Virginia Library

Act. 1.

Scene 1.

Astræa.
Cease Shepheards, cease, your Praises flatt'ring bait
Deceives our Sex but through our self Conceipt;
I am become distastful to my Sence;
You lose your Purpose in a vain Pretence:
If otherwhile, I glori'd in your Fame,
'Twas but to fann my Lovers gentle Flame,
Which now's extinguisht with a new Desire,
Leaving my faln Hopes to their fun'rall fire.
You that in Princes Palaces reside,
With wealth and honors to be dignifi'd,
Y'ave some Pretence, when with obsequ'ous Phrase,
On weak Believers, you your Ends do raise:
On my abus'd Faith what can any gain,
Save from my Weakness, more reproachfull Stain?
A shamefull Conquest 'tis by wyle t'erect
A Trophy there, where Innocence blinds Suspect.
You Gods! (not to capitulate your Will,
But it enlightened better to fulfill)
Say why, oh why did your first Law inspire
Ev'n senseless things with this myster'ous Fire,
Which we call Love? Was't not in Peace to tie
Each disagreeing part by Harmonie?
Each might by Nature's hid propensi'on know
What it supports, what it doth overthrow:
Which else would (headlong rushing to their End)
The rafters of this well fram'd World distend.
How come's it then that Reason hath less pow'r?
What you gave to preserve, doth me devour;
It seems that Reason in this corrupt state,
Forsaking Nature, doth prevaricate.
But why him clad in Natures best array?
As if through finest Lawn you would display
Your purest Essences obvious to Sense,
Which to all Fancies, else, were too immense;
Since he so much degen'rates from their kind,
In so fair Form bearing so false a Mind.
As Mortals, you your best works do not use
Our facile Faiths the sooner to abuse;
She lying on the Bank, which is raised with a little hollow to present a Rivulet, cals her Dog to her.
Rather thus much this seems to intimate,
Ingratefull Man all Ties will violate.
Come my Melampo! Gratefull more art thou,
Who only Natures motives dost allow.

Celadon.
With equall rev'rence, as the swarthy Lay
Bow's to the early messenger of day,
I offer at thy shrine a purer Flame
Then his, to whom they Homage for the same.
You Gods allow't, since in her milder Eye
Y'ave rais'd a Throne more fit your Deitie.
Why shrowd's those beams, like to a sullen Morn,
When, with contracted Clouds, she threats a Storm?

Astræa.
Thy fain'd Ignorance doth thy self accuse,
She rises.
Whilst with thy Craft thou wouldst me twice abuse;
Could else thy Souls so oft vow'd Unity,
Cease to inform thee by Loves Sympathie?
But since th'estrang'd Thoughts have that Vertue spilt,
Look in thine Heart, and learn it of thy Guilt.

Celadon.
If yet to try my never fading Love
This Anger thou put'st on; invent and prove.
If thou would'st have me die, my Sentence give,
And I shall think it ev'n a Crime to live.

Astræa.
Whereas the Truth so plainly doth appear,
We need no farther Proofs our doubts to clear;
For Punishment, no pow'r is in my Breath,
Thy Life will make it greater, then thy Death.

Celadon.
Thy Cruelty speaks truth in that! yet stay,
She seems to flie from him, who holds her, and kneels.
My Life, my Death, give ear what I shall say;
For unknown Crimes no pardon I pretend;
'Tis guilt unpardonable, thee but t'offend.
Severest Ex'cution do not defer,
Sure I deserv't, for sure thou canst not err.

Astræa.
Unskilfull is that Pilot, 'gainst one shelf,
And by th'same storm, haps twice to loose himself.
Disloyall wretch (till bid) no more come nigh
She forces her self from him.
The vastest compass of my mournful eye.

Celadon.
Stay, stay, shee's gone; and all of her me left,
Is this poor Riband, her Force made my Theft;
He kisses it
Sacred Relique of my departed Saint,
Be not offended with my just Constraint.
But in my all, of all forsaken death,
Witness to whose lov'd will I yield my breath.
Let no rude hand from this part ere thee force,
He ties it to his arm.
But he thou still the Orn'ment of my Course,
He casts himself into a little descending place representing a River. Astræa being retir'd to hearken what he would say, comes back with jealousie to see what was become of him. She seeing him fall into the River, fals upon the bank thereof, and so rowls into the same place where he fell.
And if the curious World do seek to know
How, or for what, I dy'd, do thou it show.

Astræa.
My jealous fear thus hasteth my return,
The more I seem to quench, the more I burn:
I was too harsh! to hear him I denide:
Let's haste to help, 'tis now no time to chide.

Lycidas, Phillis encounter.
Lycidas.
What wanton God pursues thy flying Fear,
Making more Beauties, then thou wouldst, appear!
Let these mine arms thy Sanctuary be;
No violence here but what proceeds from thee.

Phillis.
Hastily and in some distraction.
Licidas, well met, let's haste; from yonder wall
I saw a Shepheard in the River fall.

Lycidas.
Whereabouts was't? observ'd you well?

Phillis.
Here, here,
The sad Object of my ill-boding Fear.
They lift her up, who seems to come to her senses.
Astrea! oh, my dear companion! speak;
Or to associate Thine, my Heart shall break.

Astræa.
Why doth untimely Charity affright
My resting Soul with horror of the light?
Natures decree enjoyneth but one Death;
Why force you me surrender twice my breath?
Lycidas! thy brother from the proud Stream save,
Or these sad Flouds yield me a second Grave.

She seems to weep.
Phillis.
Courage, my dear Companion; kinder Fate,
In this your safeguard, seems to cease his hate.

Scene 2.

After some intermission, three Nymphs appear on the Scene, their heads crown'd with garlands; The sleeves of their garments turn'd up above the elbow, from whence fals a fine transparent lawn plated and frows'd towards the hand; whereto with bracelets of pearl they seem fastned: With gilt Quivers by their sides; And each an ivory bow in her hand; the lower part of the garment turn'd up on their hips; Which discovers their gilt buskins to the mid-leg.
Galatea, Leonida, Sylva.
Leonida.
This sure's the place; see how th'impetuous Brook
Seems that outlying Bank to over-look;
Then turning swiftly in his am'rous Chase,
Doth ev'n with clasped arms the Shelf embrace.
Consider well, that little tuft of Trees,
How well toth' glasses Figure it agrees.

Galatea.
Yet is this unfrequented place, in sense,
Unlike to satisfie our chief Pretence.

Sylva.
'Tis not without appearance; for no Tree
The glass did represent, we here not see.

Galatea.
Well, since this seems most likely to the place,
Let's, for the issue, here attend a space.

Sylva.
Pointing with her hand, discovers Celadon in the River.
See! how that shepheard hangeth o're the deep;
As rekeless of his life, he seems asleep:

Galatea.
Peace, Sylva peace, disturb him not awhile,
We will his pretty Secrets him beguile.

Leonida.
His hanging limbs float on each beating wave;
What you his Bed think, I believe his Grave;
They haste and take him up.
Madam, 'tis guilt this doubt not to decide,
Slow Charity may prove an Homicide.

Galatea.
Shee seems struck with love.
Wonder of Nature! hath Death took this shape
To make of mortals a more facile Rape?
Cupids unbanded Beauties being displaid,
Compar'd to this dead Figures seem to fade.
Or could these Graces in their Sphears but move,
They'd force again from heav'n the Queen of Love,
And make the horned Goddess of the Night
Forsake her Orb; here she might place her light.
Bow gently his fair Corps; comes yet not heat?
She laies her hand on his breast.
Me thinks I feel his panting heart to beat.
You Gods, by whose appointment here I stand
To take that Bliss you promis'd to my hand,
Afford him breath with mutual Flames to burn,
Or else inclose our ashes in one Urn.

Sylva.
Madam, he breaths?

Leonida.
Some fitter place must give
A second succor, 'ere he seem to live.

Galatea.
Bear him to Coach! his welfare is my own;
Or live, or die, our beings are but one.

Scene 3.

Lycidas encounters Astræa and Phillis.
Lycidas.
His Bodie's lost, him churlish Fate denies
Ev'n pious Rites of mournful Obsequies;
Celadons hat he holds in his hand, he flings it on the Scene with a little astonishment.
This slender Monument is all it gives,
In whose despite, yet in all hearts he lives.
How? Astræa! Can you restrain a Tear
For him, to whom, then Life, you were more dear?
Though his so faithful Love you have forgot,
Yet on Humanity lay not such a spot:
Thus unbewail'd of thee liv'd he again
But to behold, he surely twice were slain.

Astræa.
Gentle shepheard! thy brother truly had
Parts considerable might afflict the bad.
'Tis not his Love, his Death can make me mourn;
That Loss is light, where many Shares are born.

Lycidas.
For Charities sake disquiet not the Dead,
By unknown Ils, thus heaping on his head.
The world thy jealousie will much deride,
If thou but think, his heart he could divide,
His parents Threats, Inemnity of blood,
His purer Fire ever hath withstood.
Those unsought conquests, which his Beauty made,
His jealous Love to cherish was afraid:
Nay, I believe the less-priz'd-Deity
Thus punisht his Idolatry of thee.

Astræa.
It is no new thing Shepheard, what I say,
Whereto each eye was witness ev'ry day;
Which, undiscover'd, often heard I have,
While to Aminta his vow'd Love he gave.

Lycidas.
Just heav'n, you have disclos'd I plainly see,
The guilty author of this Tragedie.
Celadon, of Love, and Courage had too much,
To live, and hear, that Tongue this Theame but touch:
For his Obedience he is justly paid,
His greatest Crime was that he thee obey'd:
How oft on bended knees hath he besought
Thee to revoke this burthen from his Thought,
And to impose on him a milder Death,
Then fan a loathed Flame with fained breath?
Thou answer'd'st, no thou shall perform this Wyle,
Our hostil Parents that we may beguile;
And those respects of Love that I you see
Tender to her, Ile take as done to me.
Take this, not thy unstable doubts to clear,
He flings her a Letter.
But that thy Guilt more Horror yet might wear,
If more thou seek'st; that Cypress tender Ryne,
More sensible then thou, more speaks thy Crime.
May'st thou, what Punishment guilt e're hath try'd,
Sue for, as Mercy, and be it deny'd.
VVhile thy remorseful Soul by civil Jar,
Setteth thy Self against thy Self at war.
Lyci. Exit.

Astræa.
How wild a Sea chafes my unstable Mind!
What I must seek, were even hell to find.
If just, I'm clear; if unjust be my Hate,
Each day a Death my Crime shall expiate.
These Lights are stop'd with issue of my Tears;
Whilst I unlade Them, unlade thou my Fears.

She gives her the Letter.
Phillis.
VVould heav'n I could so soon bring to thee Rest.
'Tis Celadons writing; be not so opprest.

Enquire no longer the actions of my life, in asking me
She reads the Letter.
what I do; know, still I continue in my wonted pain,
to love, yet not dare to shew the same. Not love, yet vow
the contrary. Dear brother, this is all the exercise, or
rather punishment of thy Celadon. Men say two contraries
cannot be in one and the same place at one and the
same time; Nevertheless, true love, and fained, are the
frequent actions of my life; Wonder not thereat; for I am
forced to one by the perfection, to the other, by the command
of my Astræa: If this seem strange to thee, remember that

Miracles are the ordinary works of Divinitie; And
what can we less expect from my Deity!

Astræa.
Speaking to her self somewhat mov'd.
Art thou so hardned with the use of Ill,
As to withstand this Guilt, and not distill
Into a Sea? while thy unbounded Course
The narrow banks of guiltless Lignon force,
And from him, with his Channel, take his Name,
Lest after Ages, him, for thee should blame.
Here she turns to the Cypres tree, where Licidas had told her she should find more concern'd that subject.
And thou, sad subject of Apollo's verse,
Who mak'st ev'n sorrow lovely on each Herse,
Still fresh in mourning, as thou didst request,
When thy rash Hand had rob'd thee of thy Rest,
Thou more innocent Embleme of my Fate,
Denounce, if more thou know'st, t'inlarge Self-hate.

Phillis.
These Characters are fresh; the same subject,
Shee seems to look on the trunk of the tree. Shee seems to read them.
And the same Hand, did sure the same direct.
Why tyrant Love constrain'st me to a Fact
Against those Laws thou dost thy self enact,
Forcing those Rites are onely due to thee,
Be tender'd to a strangers Deity?
Be more Just to thy Self, to me less Cruel,
And take my Life for thy displeasures fuel.

Astræa.
Each sensless thing upbraid's me my Offence,
Whil'st my own Guilt yields them Intelligence;
Shee takes the hat up.
Thou unsuspected messenger of Love,
VVhich to and fro in harmless Sports be'ng drove
Shee looking in the hat, betwixt the linings discovers a Letter, with a little astonishment.
Into each others hands, conveyd'st our Lines,
Yet standers by partook not our Designs;
Did'st thou so little of thy Master know,
That to revenge his Death, thou'st naught to show?

Fair Astræa, if the Dissimulation which you enjoyn
be to kill me, you may more easily effect the same by
one word from your mouth; If it be to punish my Presumption,
you are too just a Judge to inflict less punishment
then Death. If it be to trie the Power you have
over me, why make you not choice of a more sudden Experiment
then this, whose length can be but wearisome
to you. I cannot believe 'tis to conceal our Amity, as you
pretend; Since not being able long to live in so much Constraint,
my Death Will, without doubt; give too sudden
and deplorable Testimony thereof: Believe it, fair
Astræa, what I have suffered is enough; 'tis now time
you suffer me to act the personage of Celadon; having
so long, and with so much pain, represented One that of
all those in the world is most contrary to him.

Astræa.
Thou nought canst add, I was so full before,
Thou shalt again exhausted Grief restore,
Whilst restless I Lifes weary minutes tell,
In Swan-like plaints sounding my Funeral knell.

Phillis.
To her self; then takes her by the hand, who seems to rest on her.
Sorrows first shock to no Advice will yield;
Who struggle with't, wound, what they thought to shield.

Scene 4.

Celadon, Leonida, Sylva.
Celadon.
Nature and Art seem marri'd here to be,
VVhere each agreeing part's a Harmonie;
Yet is't to me, like Horror of the Night
To himself.
To the Guilty; Banish't Astræa's Sight,
To them again.
It seems design'd an amorous Abode,
To shrowd the pleasures of some rural God.
VVhat place is that, whose close compacted shade,
Phœbus in highest pride can scarce invade?

Leonida.
Gentle Shepheard, i'th' thickest of that Grove
Is plac'd the fountain of the Truth of Love,
VVherein each Lover may their loved see;
And if by them any then loved be,
Their Forms seem coupled; But as then, if None,
The single Figure doth appear alone.
It was erected by the famous Skill
Of a Magitian, Jealousie to kill.

Celadon.
I've heard the fame thereof; being so nigh,
Are we not licenc'd the vertue to trie?

Leonida.
No gentle Swain, this fair Nymphs cruelty
On incen'st Love forbids that Liberty.

Celadon.
As how I pray?

Leonida.
That I shall strait relate.
Pointing to Sylva.
Nay frown not Sylva, now it is too late.
This Nymph, whose Beauty, Worth and Grace,
In all their hearts, that see her, hold a place:
Amongst the rest, two noble Spirits rise,
In Emulation, to make her their Prize:
In Natures gifts and Fortunes both were rich;
And their own vertues such, as might bewitch
Any with Love, save Sylva's equal eye;
Which bred 'twixt Rivals equal Amity;
Long had they both without Advantage strove
Each of the Other, or of Sylva's Love;
At length, with one assent they both agree,
To the best priz'd of her, her to leave free;
Which her impartial Grace could not decide;
They therefore to this Fountain them apply'd;
Wherein each gazing with a greedy eye,
Who should be honour'd with Preheminencie,
Found neither lov'd, her Figure still Alone,
Together, and asunder, them being shown:
At which, their Love gave place unto their Ire;
With Magitians they secretly conspire,
This to make void; which not allow'd to Art,
They to fell Lions do the Guard impart,
By art confin'd; nor can this Charm untie
Till the two perfect'st Lovers for it die:

Celadon.
Sorrow attends my wonder!

Sylva.
Me the blame,
VVhile this home-friend seeks to extend my shame.

Galatea.
My better self, I've been too long away,
She imbraceth Caledon.
Each Minute spent from thee, is a lost Day,
He seems to faint; they support him.
How fares my Life? some grief doth thee oppress,
I fear it is thy Fevors Re-access.

Celadon.
Th'are welcome Summons; such I would not flie.

Galatea.
Render not fruitless so our Charity.

Leonida.
Madam, this Shepheards safety doth depend
On some skil'd hand may give his griefs an end.

Galatea.
Thee to believe my Fear doth me invite,
But m'Honor's stain'd, he being expos'd to sight.

Leonida.
Madam, to me 'tis dearer then mine own,
As by my careful service shall be shown.
My Uncles Skil, his Faith, and Love to you
(I know) your Grace misdoubts not to be true.
He's your Creature, whose Prudence will conceal,
And further your intents as his own weal.
I'le thither haste with speed, if so you please,
That his presence your Griefs, in his, may ease.

Galatea.
Th'advice is good; yet him my Love not show,
Exeunt All but Leonida.
Haste, Leonida; Fear saies thou art too slow.

Leonida.
I will not tax thee for unequal Flames,
To her self.
Titles are but Policies empty Names,
VVhilst Love, like Death, casteth those Scepters by,
And gives all Natures works Equality.
Had not the same Object, with equal Fire
Inflam'd my Soul, I'd cherish'd thy desire:
Which in pretence of duty to the State,
My jealous Love by Craft must violate.