University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

The Scene is a woody, fine Country, a Hill in Prospect on which stands the Temple of Love; on one side a Well of Antique Stone-Work; a large Tree on the other.
Enter Eurilla with a Basket of Flowers, and a Garland which she is compleating: Thyrsis behind, observing her unseen.
Eur
Charming Roses, flow'ry Treasures,
Sweet and smiling, like the Morn!
Hence removing, serve our Pleasures:
Swains and Virgins you'll adorn.


See, see this lovely Rose!
[She takes a Rose.
Blushing, it invites me
To remove it to my Bosom—
Ah me! it has hurt me.
Fair Deluder, away—
[She flings away the Rose.
So Hopes of Pleasure
Too often turn to Pain, and Love I'll scorn.
Love, like the Rose, is sweet, but sharp his Thorn.
Shall I then venture? No,
Love might destroy me.

Thyr.
Try me.

Eur.
Ah me! some Eccho's nigh me,
And answer'd, Try me.
Oh! you mistake me.

Thyr.
Take me.

Eur.
First take me, Death!

Thyr.
First take me, Life!

Eur.
Ah! no, this is no Eccho: I discover,
'Tis but the Voice of some Fool like a Lover.

Thyrsis Advances.
Thyr.
Is't a Folly, Eurilla, sweet Creature,
Humbly to beg you'll ease us?

Eur.
Oh Thyrsis! 'tis your Nature,
For your Amusement with your Love to teise us
You've pre-ingag'd your Heart;
Then prithee leave me,
'Tis Phillis must relieve you.

Thyr.
Tir'd with denying,
I am now Eurilla trying;
Less coy I hope to find her;
I can be true to Beauty, when 'tis kinder.

Eur.
Tell me, e'er I approve you,
Should I love you;
Does a real Passion move you?

Thyr.
E'er I change, or make Advances
To new Faces, may I die!
In delicious, balmy Trances,
By your dear enchanting Glances,
Ever ravish'd let me lye!
E'er I change, &c.

Eur.
Now all my Doubts are over;
Here sit, my tender Lover.

Thyr.
Oh! happy Moment!

Eur.
But what alarms you?
You tremble—I am told
That Love is all a Fire;
And yours is cold.

Thyr.
Eurilla, forgive me, I tremble—
O'ercome with Pleasure,
Excess of Blessing,
Above Measure,
Above Possessing,
I die with Joy, and tremble for my Treasure.

Eur.
I'll ever be Loving,
Delight of my Heart.
Be you never roving,
Your Flame ne'er removing,
Like mine, still improving,
We never shall part.
I'll ever, &c.


Still why so silent?

Thyr.
The Rights a Lover claims,
With Silence he must study to deserve.

Eur.
To so discreet a Swain
I'll not deny a Token of my Passion.

Thyr.

Whatever is mark'd thus (“) is not sung.

“My Love alone can claim it.

Eur.
“But then, my Thyrsis,
“Be sure none here may see us.

Thyr.
“We are secure, and private.

Eur.
“Look here then.

Thyr.
“I do.

Eur.
Sees not my Shepherd?

Thyr.
What, Fair one?

[He looks a while, and rubs his Eyes.
Eur.
Rub your weak Eyes, poor Thyrsis!
Don't you yet see it?

Thyr.
Where is it?

Eur.
There, you Fool, you have it.

[She hits him a Box on the Ear, and then goes out.
Thyrsis
alone.
Thus does she treat and leave me?
Oh! Thyrsis, leave her,
Resolve, my Heart, to fly her, as she flies thee,
And pay her Scorn with Scorn.
Ah! turn thee, turn thee
To Phillis, kind, and lovely.
She will approve thee.
I'll tell her, Oh! love me,
She'll answer kindly,
I love thee, oh! I love thee.

Phillis is heard singing in the Cottage.
Phil.
Long to love may seem uneasie,
But, fond Hearts, what more can please ye,
Than the Joy of being true?

Thyr.
Yonder's Phillis, too believing!
Poor mistaken Fair!
She relies on Modern Vows.

Phil.
within.
Love revives by fresh Caresses:
Each is blest when most he blesses.
Like the Morn our Joys renew.

Thyr.
How lovelier is her Goodness,
Than proud Eurilla's Coyness!

Phillis advances.
Phil.
Long to love may seem uneasie;
But, fond Hearts, what more can please ye,
Than the Joy of being true?

Thyr.
He's blest, who's lov'd by you.

Phil.
Thyrsis, my Treasure,
I know you love me—
But tell me, gentle Shepherd,
Whence this unusual Red
Thy Cheek o'er-spreading?

Thyr.
Is then the Mark remaining?
As here Eurilla
A flow'ry Garland wove,
I stood admiring,
And toying among the Flowers:
A Bee advancing,
Fierce and angry, has stung me.

Phil.
“To suck a sweeter Hony,
“The cunning Creatures
“Did to the Sweets prefer,
“Which our Meadows bear,
“Those on thy Features—
Come to our Cottage, Love,
To ease thy Anguish,
I'll bathe thy Cheek with Milk.
Thy Pains asswaging,
They soon shall cease their raging.

Thyr.
The Smart is over;
And I a while must leave you.
“With Speed I'm now repairing
“To young Sylvander;
“Who's waiting with Impatience.
Yet know, where-e'er I go
Still here I bear thee;
Still, my Dear, my longing Heart
Will be near thee.

[Exit.
Phillis
alone.
Ne'er leave me more, my Treasure:
Charmer, return, or I die.
Without thee, Soul of Pleasure,
Ah me! Panting,
Fainting,
Pleasure is flying,
Dying.
Farewel, Life and Joy!
Ne'er leave me, &c.

Enter Eurilla with the Garland, a Satyr behind watching.
Eur.
Take here what has amus'd me!
But, to bestow it,
[She gives Phillis the Garland.
Dear Phillis, where's your Thyrsis.

Phil.
Not far—you saw him lately
Stung by a Bee, poor Shepherd!

Eur.
By a Bee! Oh very pretty!

Phil.
D'you laugh when others suffer?

Eur.
Pray would you know what Bee,
What Bee it was that stung him?

Phil.
What Bee?

[The Satyr, advancing slowly, lays hold on them both.
Sat.
Pretty Creatures, I'm he.

Phil.
Ah me! the Satyr.

Eur.
Let me go, thou horrid Creature.

[Eurilla gets from him, and runs out.
Sat.
One of you now will serve me.

Phil.
Why do you hold me,
My pretty, gentle Satyr?
D'you fear I'll go?

Sat.
I know you always fly me.

Phil.
Oh now I'll stay;
See here these pretty Flowers,
This lovely Garland,
It is for you 'tis weaving.

Sat.
And again shall I trust you?

Phil.
Stay, help me to compleat it.

Sat.
I'm too good-natur'd.

[The Satyr sits whilst Phillis lays the Garland over his Arms, and binds him with it insensibly, pretending to finish it.
Phil.
As here combining
We Flowers entwine,
So Love is joining
Your Heart and mine.

Sat.
The Rose with Prickles
Gives Joy and Smart;
So Beauty trickles,
And wounds my Heart.

[The Satyr whistles, and several Fauns or Satyrs enter and dance.
Phil., Sat.
Ah how charming is kind Enjoying!
Eas'd of Anguish the jealous must know!
On the Grass contented and toying,
Courting,
Sporting,
Love transporting,
In an Ocean of Joys we flow.
Ah how Charming, &c.

[Sat.]
Then now you own you love me.

Phil.
I'll give you strait a Token,
Such as you merit,
Of my Affection.

Sat.
Oh give it!

Phil.
There, my Dear, receive it.

[She strikes him with a Brier, pushes him down, and goes out.
Satyr alone.
Sat.
“Oh thou very, very Woman!
“First she allures me,
“Secures me,
“Ties me,
“Then down she throws me, and flies me!
“I cannot stir—who'll help me?
“Who now will raise me?
“Ah me! I'm bruis'd and crippled!—
“She has lam'd me, slipt my Shoulder,
“And spoilt my Shape for ever.
“What's this strange Moisture
“That's running out?
“Oh! 'tis my Brains I doubt.
“Ay, ay, it is my Brain.
“When e'er with Love we're curst,
“That's sure to run out first.
“The Brain's giv'n over,
“When e'er you play the Lover.
[He gets up at last.

Enter Sylvander, descending from the Temple of Love.
Syl.
Pow'rs Immortal, Fate declaring,
End my Sorrow! I'm despairing.

Sat.
That Fool shall set me free.

[Aside.
Syl.
Still in Darkness to be lying,
Still in Pain, is worse than dying.

[Going.
Sat.
Oh stay, dear, pretty Shepherd.
“Ah me! don't pass me by.
“Help me, help me, gently!
[Sylvander comes to him.
Set me free, and I'll thank thee.

Syl.
And who so finely
With a Garland has ty'd thee?

Sat.
I'm the Fool did it.
To find again the Nymph I love, who left me,
I try'd a while this Magick to relieve me.
“Tir'd at last with lamenting,
“I am repenting,
“And would dissolve th'Enchantment.

Syl.
“I share—

Sat.
“Should I but tell thee
“The odd Enchantment—

Syl.
Oh Torment!
I've been imploring
The Oracle, to find my lost Orinda;
But cannot understand it.

Sat.
What does it tell thee?

Syl.
Under the Rose, where Myrtles are,
[Reads the Oracle.
Mark well where Waters rise!
There shall a Fire, that dying lyes,
Revive, to bless a Pair.

Sat.
'Tis easie;
Untie me; I'll untie it.

Syl.
First resolve me!

Sat.
See here the Myrtles twin'd about the Roses!
And under, in the Well,
Water's rising.

Syl.
Oh! witty Satyr!

Sat.
Unbind me;
Then, to Expound the rest, you'll ready find me.

Syl.
I with Joy set thee free.

[Sylvander unbinds him.
Sat.
Oh! oh! oh! oh!—She had half choak'd me.

Syl.
Now ease me, kind Satyr: Explain the rest, and ease me.

Sat.
Sure I enough have guest.
You made me do my best:
Guess thou the rest.

[Satyr runs out.
Sylvander alone.
Syl.
“Monster, or worse, thou Satyr!
“Ungrateful and inhuman!
“'Twould have been strange
“For thee to have done better.
What shall I do?

Thyrsis, having been a while behind, advances.
Thyr.
Sylvander!

Syl.
My gentle Thyrsis!

Thyr.
A while behind a Tree
I have observ'd thee,
And heard thy sad Complaining.
Pray, who is this you've lost,
Poor Shepherd?

Syl.
Oh! Thyrsis!
Why will you now renew my cruel Pain?

Thyr.
'Twill ease you to reveal it.

Syl.
Ten long Years have I rov'd, since my old Father,
With Danger of his Life, sav'd young Orinda's,
Rich Montano's Daughter,
Hurt by a raving Boar.
He stabb'd the Monster.
The Parent, kind and grateful,
Bestow'd on me the Virgin:
And she, but yet an Infant,
Was then secur'd to me by sacred Marriage.
“Both only Children, and the tender Hymen
“Only yet taught our Lips,
“Scarce wean'd from milky Food,
“Cold childish Kisses.
Soon after, young Orinda
Was in the Forest lost.
Thro' Forests, o'er Mountains, thro' Desarts, and Vallies,
Still wand'ring and grieving I've sought her.
No more, oh Heav'ns! no more must my Eyes see her,
Nor can I, returning
To our old grieving Parents,
End the doleful Mourning.

Thyr.
Well may thy Fortune grieve thee.
May Heav'n relieve thee!
But tell me,
Since still our Faces with our Years are changing,
May not her Looks deceive thee,
While for her thou art ranging?

Syl.
I hope to know her:
For sure the Mark's remaining
Near her right Shoulder,
Where she was wounded
By the Boar in his Fury.

Thyr.
Such a Mark to discover,
That's hid beneath her Gown, I'd ne'er give over.
I would try ev'ry Beauty,
And briskly play the Rover.
But you, chast Lover,
Ne'er court the Favour.

Syl.
Ah me! all my Hopes are over.

Thyr.
If Love with Hope's expiring,
Why then d'you fan the Fire?
When the Heart should cease desiring,
We ought to change, or retire.
If Love, &c.

Syl.
I'll see a Thousand Beauties,
But ne'er Orinda;
Or, seeing, I'll not see her.
So will my Passion
Be but a light Amusement.
Despair secures and arms me:
My Heart is ever cold, Love never warms me.