University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Second.

Enter Mirtillo and Ergasto.
Mirt.
“Fair Amaryllis, if by speaking, I
“Offend thee, I will hold my peace, and dye.

Erg.
“Mirtillo, Love is a great pain at best;
“But so much more, the more it is supprest.
Why do you inward burn, and find no tongue?

Mirt.
“My fear, and my respect to her, thus long,
“Have silenc'd me. Alas, too well I know,
“Nor has Love struck me blind, that in my low
“And slender Fortunes, it were idle pride
“To hope a Nymph so shaped, so qualified,
“So rais'd in Birth, in Spirit, and in Blood,
“Above all these so gentle, and so good,
“Can e're be mine. No; I have took the height
“Of my unhappy Star, and dread my Fate.
But Amaryllis Weds; say, does she not?

Erg.
'Tis so resolved.

Mirt.
Oh my unhappy Lot!
Now Destiny has done its cruellest part,
Despair till now, but hover'd round my heart.
Till now, amid'st the greatest of my fear,
Some glimmering hope at distance did appear:
My wishing Love did the kind Flatterer play;
And though 'twas Night, me-thoughts I dreamt of Day.
But now my Horrour runs through all my Veins:
Despair fills up my heart, and absolute Tyrant reigns.
Past all recovery she's gone, she's gone.
I see the Prize by a blest Favourite won;
From my weak arms for ever, ever, torne;
I see the Mirtle Wreath my Rivals brows adorn.
And now Ergasto, e're my heart quite break,
“Though 'tis too late, I am resolv'd I'le speak.

Erg.
“Woe be to her, should her stern Father hear.
“That to stoln prayers she ever lent an Ear.

Mirt.
Alas my Looks and Language shall be far,
Both from offending him, and injuring her.
“I'le only say to her I owe my Death,
“And beg, when I sigh out my latest breath,
“She'd cast her fair Eyes on me, and say, Dye;
“This favourable Boon she can't deny:
That e're she goes to make another Blest,
My Sighs may reach her Ear, though not her Breast.
“Silvio, the Rich, the Gallant, and the Fair,
“The Priest, Montanoes only Son and Heir;
“'Tis he (oh envied Youth) whose joy appears
“So ripe for Harvest in his Spring of years.

Erg.
“Indeed you've little cause to envy him;
Rather to pitty him.

Mirt.
To pitty him!
Can pitty such a happy State befit?

Ergast.
“Because he Loves her not.

Mirt.
“And has he Wit?
“Has he a heart? Is he not blind? And yet
“When I consider with what full Aspect
“Her Starry Eyes their influence direct
“Into my Breast, she cannot have a Dart
“Left in her Quiver for another heart.
“But why do they a Jem so precious throw,
“To one that knows it not, and scorns it so?

Erg.
Because from Silvios Marriage, Heav'n of old,
T'Arcadia has deliverance fore-told:
You, though a Stranger here, have understood,
That of an offer'd Virgins guiltless blood,
A Tribute by Dianas dire command
Is yearly paid by this unhappy Land.

Mirt.
“But what strange Crime deserved so sharp a Doom?
“How could such monstrous cruelty find room
“In a Celestial mind?

Erg.
The cause of all
This storm, was one of Cynthias Favourites fall:
Her best-lov'd Priest, a Youth of Noble blood,
By an inconstant Nymphs fair Eyes subdu'd;
And by her Vows and broken Oaths betray'd,
In desperation for this Perjur'd Maid,
Himself, before her Feet, a bloody Victim laid.
Whose Death Diana did so much incense,
That by a long and violent Pestilence,
A suffering Nation in her fall was crusht:
In Purple dye her killing fury blusht:
Nor could the dying Criminals blood alone,
Wash off her stain, and for her sins atone.

Mirt.
But how did you at last the Goddess rage appease?

Erg.
Our Cure's almost as ill, as our Disease.
“For going to consult Heav'ns Will, we from
“The Oracle received this fatal Doom,
“That yearly, we to Nights offended Queen;
“A Maid or Wife should offer, past fifteen,
“And under twenty; by which means, the rage
“That swallow'd thousands, one death should asswage.

Mirt.
And was this Barbrous Tribute by her will,
Doom'd to be paid for ever?

Erg.
“The Oracle
“Being askt agen, what end our Woe should have;
“To our demand, this punctual answer gave.
“Your Woe shall end, when two of Race Divine,
“Love shall Combine:
“And for a faithless Nymphs Apostate State,
“A faithful Shepherd supererrogate.
“Now there is left in all Arcadia,
“Of Heav'nly stock, no other branch but they.
“Young Silvio, and fair Amarillis, She
“From Pan descended, from Alcides, He;
“And to our grief, till now, there never yet
“Of Heav'nly Race, a Male and Female met.
On this a Nations hope depends; the rest
“Is still reserv'd in Fates own secret breast;
“And with this Marriage, one day will ensue.

Mirt.
“And all this poor Mirtillo to undo.
“What a long reach is here? what Armys Band
“Against one heart, half murder'd to their hand?
“Is't not enough that cruel Love's my Foe,
“Unless Fate too contrives my over-throw.

Erg.
“Alas Mirtillo, grieving does no good;
“Tears quench not Love, but are its Milk and Food.
“'T shall scape me hard, but e're the Sun descend,
“This Cruel One shall hear thee: Courage Friend.

Mirt.
That word has shot life through me; do but this,
And to repay you for so vast a Bliss,
When I am Dead, and her fair Hand has given
The killing-wound, I'le send you thanks from Heav'n.

Exeunt.