University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.

Enter (to them) Angel, Anselm. Montenor, Charita.
Angel.
Whither so fast, good Sheepherd?

Ly.
Prudent Nymph,
I'm in Retreat before mine Enemy.

Char.
Will not Lucida speak to us to day?

(Lucida going aside, as if unwilling to be surpris'd with Lysis.)
Ly.
No, let her stay a while behind those bushes,
(To Charit.)
And give her time to recollect her Soule
From th'trouble of her late rejected flame.

Angel.
She then persists to persecute you stil.

Ly.
Any but Lysis would be tempted by her,
But though her love of me doth still afflict her,
Charita's still Charita, she Lucida.

Char.
And since my Sheepherd all contemnes for me,
He has most really my heart, and faith,
Our soules are both possest with equall flames.

Lys.
Truce to these sweets a while—you ravish me!
Oh.—

Cha.
Sigh yee?

Ly.
Sheepherdess my care—
'Tis a precaution that I thus doe sigh,
Lest too much ardour should at once surprize me,
And I soone finde my heart reduc'd to ashes,
By the too active flames of my desires.
Did not the Air of these my sighs refresh it.

Lu.
Why talk ye with the Honour of our plains?

(returning to the Stage.)
Ch.
We talk of Meddows, pastures, and of Flocks,
We must dissemble—

(To Lysis softly.)
Ly.
And we likewise talk
(Pointing at Charita.)
Of that faire shining eye, that caus'd my griefe,
Yes, of thine eye divine, thou charming beauty!

Ang.
Such language, Sheepherd, does affront your Mistris,
The brightnesse of her eyes, you see's not common,
They both can charme, and yet you praise but one.
What Rapsodie of love doth make you talk so?

Ly.
Why I assume the language of the Poets.
This style to them was ever held peculiar,
I purposely, like them, spoke but of one,
But yet with no designe t'offend my fairest;
For either of those Suns afford me light,
And when I sweare her faire ey's skill'd to charme,
I speake no more o'th' left than of the right

Ans.
What say you now Nymph?

(To Angel.)
Angel.
'Tis a prudent answer.

Ly.
Silence!—I heare farre off a Bagpipe's sound.—
Oh how melodious!—

(Enter Clarimond like a Sheepherd.)
Mon.
'Tis by a young Sheepherd,
Who not long since arriv'd from a strange Country.

Ly.
'Tis true, his habit's different from ours.

Ansel.
To live amongst us he assum'd another,
He's here.