University of Virginia Library

ACT the fourth.

Scene the first.

Enter Corisca.
Corisc.
“This day has Heav'n and Earth, Nature & Art,
“Fortune and Fate, Friend and Foe ta'ne my part.
“How much more happily (to make her sin
“Look more like Truth) Fate brought Mirtillo in,
“Then I contriv'd to have brought Coridon?
And how as luckily was that great stone
Roul'd by Sylvano o're the mouth o'th' Cave?
Who cou'd expect such Service from that Slave?

Enter Sylvano.
Sylv.
Corisca here! thou damn'd perfidious Cheat;
I thought by this I had cur'd your amorous heat.
How comes it, Devil, that I find thee here?

Corisc.
To find me here, where lyes the wonder? where,
Did you expect me?

Sylv.
To have found thee Fool'd,
Snar'd and betray'd, thy wanton courage cool'd;
Led to a Temple, there t'have undergone
That punishment my Vengeance had pull'd down,
And thy loud Crimes deserv'd: I thought I shou'd
Have seen
Shame written in thy Fore-head, and thy Blood.

Corisc.
Audacious Slave!

Sylv.
Was not that Stone enough
To hold ye? are not Rocks and Marble proof
Against the Assaults of Lust? How got ye off?
Speak Sorceress!

Corisc.
What does the Traytor mean?

Sylv.
How got you out o'th' Cave, that dear dark Scene
Of Villany, t'escape the Minister
Of Justice, which I sent to seize you there?
Have you broke Prisons, or subverted Laws,
Or baffled Justice; made your impious cause
Like those fair looks which your false colours paint;
Acted a Devil and appear'd a Saint?
Which of 'em was't? or was it all? say, how?
All this bewitching Womans power can do.

Corisc.
I scorn thy Imputations savage Slave.
'Twas Amaryllis that was found i'th'Cave.
And with Mirtillo caught, th'Adultress dyes.
Can thy black soul, with all its Treacheries,
Father on guiltless me thy barb'rous Lyes.

Sylv.
Did he not name your Name in entring in,
And say you had told him true—Oh I begin
To find the Cheat; some trick to take her head.
Nothing that's truth can from thy tongue proceed.
I'le to the Priest, and clear her of the guilt.
No blood but thine shall by my rage be spilt.
I'le swear thy Treasons, and her death prevent;
And false, or true, I'le prove her Innocent.

[offers to go.
Corisc.
Sylvano stay, and hear me e're you go.
God's! for a little of the Woman now.
(aside...)
This Villain, if his flight I do not stay,
Will ruine all my Love, and all my Plots betray. (...aside.)

You've often said you Lov'd Corisca.

Sylv.
True.

Corisc.
And she has often said that she lov'd you.

Sylv.
And I, Fool as I was, believ'd you too.

Corisc.
Why was that Faith a Crime? how can you still
See by false lights, and read my thoughts so ill?
How oft my seeming falsehood you've pursu'd,
Even to my death, and sought my guiltless blood?
Nay, when your Jealousie so high could swell;
And your blind fears, you thought, discern'd so well,
You see kind Heav'n your Errour does prevent,
And, cruel Man, you find me Innocent.

Sylv.
Because I once have had a false distrust,
Therefore my Jealousie must ne're be just.

Corisc.
Well, if I am still that Monster you suppose,
However, sure some signe of Love it shews;
When I can tamely hear you treat me thus,
And yet forgive a style so infamous.

Sylv.
Oh Syren, canst thou Love? how many Rogues,
And Villains, odious Slaves, and hated Dogs,
Have I been call'd; and treated like 'em too?
Do, call this Love, yes perjur'd Woman, do.

Corisc.
To those harsh words, I was by passion driven:
Things done in storms, should be in calmes forgiven.
Besides, I have been treated too as ill;
And yet through all your Rage, you Lov'd me still.

Sylv.
And you deserv'd it; you can't less than prove
A Miracle of Faith, of Truth and Love:
You've such a wondrous stock: ask Corydon,
Philander, Strephon, Niso, Clitophon,
Philisides, Geron, Thyrsis, Doreo.
By all those Legions of your Loves you're true.

Corisc.
How can your fears such wild Chimæra's frame?
Can you my harmless Conversation blame?

Sylv.
How harmlesly you their kind Visits paid,
Witness the Assignations you have made,
The Presents you receiv'd, the cursed Gold,
For which your Vows were broke, and Honour sold.

Corisc.
Can you object the Gifts and Treats they made,
And think those Tributes were with Love repaid?
Our Companies requite the Treats we take,
And our Acceptance pays the Gifts they make.
I kept 'em Company—was it ill done
To hear all Loves, when I receiv'd but one?

Sylv.
Oh Cunning!

Corisc.
She bestows a worthless heart,
Whose feeble Eyes, had never but one Dart.
'Tis a dull prize that's never sought but once;
But thus their weak pretences I renounce?
I'm all Sylvano's sacred and entire.

Sylv.
Magick and Witchcraft, I shall take new fire.

Corisc.
Alas, I made you Jealous on design,
T'assure your Love before I made you mine.
Since Marriage is a Bond that tyes till death,
Could I have too much tryal of your Faith?

Sylv.
Death and the Devil! I am snar'd agen.
The tame and silly loving Fool's got in.

Corisc.
Men best express how Treasures they esteem
By the concern they shew in losing 'em.
Your rage and storms to think me perjur'd, prove
The violence and ardence of your Love.
And to requite the tedious pains you've borns.
Accept in blushes this last just return.
Gives him her hand.
To morrow at the Altar seal my heart.

Sylv.
Thou wilt be true, thou must—by Heav'ns thou art.

[Kisses her hand.
Corisc.
In all my Charms there my Dear Love I'le meet,
And lay my soul at kind Sylvano's feet.
But one thing I forget;
Do not defend that naughty Womans cause,
Let the lewd shameful Wretch suffer the Laws.
They have met there before, a hundred times.
But let her dye vile Creature for her Crimes.
I hate that odious sin so much; may all
That practice it, as much unpittyed fall.

Sylv.
Forgive me, if I take my self away:
To morrows Bliss permits me not to stay.
I must prepare for our dear Nuptial day.
And the bright Sun when he salutes the skie,
No Persian shall adore so much as I:
But see I find you true.

Corisc.
Can you suspect me now?
By my Religion and my Life I'm true.

Sylv.
Pray Heaven this pious resolution last,
For to your Sex that Grace comes not in hast.

Corisc.
Why this mistrust?

Sylv.
You know you never told me truth before.

Corisc.
Now you're unkind.

Sylv.
Well I'le suspect no more.
I will believe you just; and live in hope
Falsehood in Woman, is a stream may stop.
Grant ye great Gods (that one kind wonder do)
Once in a life a Woman may speak true.

Exit.
Corisc.
Poor credulous Fool—What dangers did I shun?
Had I not us'd this Cheat, I had been undone.
Had the bold Slave appear'd in her defence,
He had crusht my Plots, and prov'd her Innocence.
But now thanks to my Wit,
His preparations for his faithful Bride,
No doubt has found him work enough beside.
Proud Rival, nothing now thy Fate shall stay:
The gaudy Sacrifice must bleed to day.

Exit.

SCENE the Second.

Enter Montano, Amaryllis bound, with Attendants.
Mont.
“Base present Age, which dost with thy impure
“Delights, the beauty of the soul obscure,
“Teaching to Nurse a Dropsie in the Veins,
Bridling the look, but givest desire the Reins.
“Thus like a Net that spread, and cover'd lyes,
“With leaves and tempting Flowers, thou dost disguise
“With coy and holy Guiles a Womans heart;
“Mak'st Life a Play, and Vertue but a Part.
“They think it not a fault Loves Sweets to steal,
“So from the World they can the Theft conceal.

Amar.
“Had I been guilty, then it wou'd have been
“Less grievous to me to have Death pay sin.
But now to dye thus Innocent, in all
“My pride of Youth and Fortune thus to fall,
“Is a sad case.

Mont.
A sad one 'tis indeed,
When at one stroke th'Arcadian hopes must bleed.
Thou born of Heavenly Race, born to asswage
A Nation's griefs, t'appease a Goddess Rage;
“One that for Heavenly Beauty, merited
“Temples and sacred Victims, to be led
“Thy self to th'Altar as a Sacrifice.
“Who could behold it without melting Eyes.
Oh wretched fall!

Amar.
“For all this have not I
“Transgrest the Law, but Innocently dye.
“Must I then dye Montano, must I dye?
“None left to hear, none to defend me left?
“Of all abandon'd, of all hope bereft?
“Only of such a mocking pitty made
“The wretched object as affords no aid.

Mont.
“Be patient Nymph, and give me cause to tell,
“Though thou didst ill, yet that thou suffer'st well.
“Look up to Heaven, that gave thee Birth, and be
“Content with what is writ above for thee.

Amar.
Oh 'tis a cruel Sentence, whether given
By Men or Gods, or writ in Earth or Heaven:
But writ in Heaven I am sure it cannot be,
For that does my unsullied Bosom see;
And there my injur'd Innocence is known,
Stands fair, and shines before th'Eternal Throne.
“But what does that avail, if I my Life must pay?

Mirt.
“Who fears to dye, dyes every hour i'th'day.
“Why hang'st thou back, and draw'st a painful breath?
“Death has no ill in't, but the fear of Death;
“And they that dye when they have heard their Doom,
“Flye from their Death.

Amar.
“Perhaps some help may come.

Mont.
Good Nymph no more, our duty calls us hence;
I with your stay no longer can dispence.

Amar.
“Dear Woods adieu then, my dear Woods adieu,
“Receive these sighs (my last ones) into you,
“Till my cold shade, forc'd from her seat by dire
“And unjust Seel, to your lov'd shades retire;
“For sink to Hell it can't, being Innocent,
“Nor soar to Heaven, laden with discontent.
“Mirtillo, dear Mirtillo, most accurst
“The day I saw, the day I pleas'd thee first:
Without thy Love, death would less frightful be;
My greatest pain in death, is, losing thee.
Enter Corisca.
Is this the Nymph accuses me, dear Friend,
Thy goodness cannot to such crimes descend;
Rescue my Honour, and my Life defend.

Corisc.
Dear Amaryllis, your own actions blame;
You lost my Friendship when you lost your Fame.

Amar.
Nay, then my ruine does too plain appear,
I little thought such Treason harbour'd here.

Corisc.
Treason! Heaven knows my heart.—Treason in me?
No, I'de not wrong my mortal Enemy:
Because I've spoyld her amorous design,
She would repair her Fame by wounding mine:
But Sir, I am a Witness of her sin,
I saw this Wanton Nymph steal softly in:
A glowing colour all her Face o'respread;
It made me blush to see her look so red.
At her approach, behind a Bush I stept,
And unperceiv'd, my watching station kept:
The eager Youth came after her in hast;
His looks less fearful, and his steps more fast,
And blustring, rusht into the Cave, whilst I,
Oh the strange Charms of Curiosity—

Amar.
Oh my tir'd patience! Oh thou barbarous
In humane Nymph, t'abuse my Virtue thus;
What Treacheries did ever I design
Against thy blood, that thou should'st thirst for mine.

Corisc.
Abuse thy Virtue! thou hast none to wrong;
But not to make th'unpleasing tale too long,
Close to the Rock my list'ning Ear I laid,
And th'hollow Cave this gentle sound convey'd;
On the cold ground, as the Nymph panting lay,
In a faint dying Voyce, I heard her say,
What shift does poor Love make? to which the Swain,
With a brisk joy, thus Answer'd her again:
No shining Monarchs in their Beds of Gold,
And their proud Arms do so much Treasure hold,
Not half my Bliss, nor half thy sweetness tast.

Amar.
Oh torture me no more, dear Sir, make hast,
Send me to Execution, let me dye;
'Tis worse than death to hear this Blasphemy.

[Ex. guarded
Corisc.
See with what hast she takes her self away;
Her guilt's so terrible, she dares not stay:
Yet there's such winning Beauty in her Face,
That I protest, were I to judge her case,
My tender-hearted Nature is so good,
I should forgive her sin: I Vow I shou'd.

Exit.
Mont.
“Fair Golden Age, when Milk was th'only Food:
“The Cradle of the Infant-World the Wood,
“Rockt by the Winds; when th'untoucht Flock did bear
“Their dear Young for themselves. None then did fear
“The Sword or Poyson; no black thoughts begun
“T'Eclipse the light of the Eternal Sun:
“Nor wandring pines unto a forreign shore,
“Or War, or Riches (a worse mischief) bore.
“That Idol, Honour, which th'Ambitious blinds,
“Was not till now the Tyrant of our minds;
No Lawless wishes then, no Perjuries
Corrupted Love; then the blind God had Eyes.
“Husband and Lover signifi'd one thing;
“True Love, and the delights true Love does bring,
“Was Honour to those sober minds that knew
“No Happiness, but what from Virtue grew;
Dear Heaven that state of Innocence renew.

Exit.
Enter Mirtillo.
Mirt.
Wretched Mirtillo, to the Temple flye,
And there behold thy Amaryllis dye;
A Martyr to thy groundless Jealousie.
Oh damn'd Corisca, thou Infernal Hag;
Do, boast thy Treasons, and thy Trophies brag;
And as the greatest Curse that I can give,
May'st thou but dye with half the pains I live.

SCENE the Third.

Enter Dorinda disguis'd in a Coat of Furs.
Dorind.
Sylvio, when I appear in my own shape,
Takes all the care my presence to escape;
And when my sighs I utter, then he speaks
With so much scorn, that my poor heart he breaks;
But thus disguis'd I may his foot-steps trace,
“Securely gaze upon his lovely Face.
“Live in the Sun-shine his fair Eyes do cast,
Follow my Love, and near my Heaven be plac'd.
But what if he should see through my Disguise?
Tho Love, they say, is blind, yet Hate has Eyes.
Wretched Dorinda, every way thour't lost:
Was ever poor unhappy Maid so crost?
Well, from my Love you too unkindly flye,
The Nymphs will chide you Sylvio when I dye.
I'm the last Conquest too you e're will make:
For none of 'em will Love you for my sake.
Wearied and tir'd, I grow so faint, I'le try
If I can sleep, in yonder brake I'le lye,
If they can sleep that Love so much as I.

Exit.
Enter Sylvio, with Linco and other Shepherds; a Bores Head being carry'd before him in Tryumph, the Shepherds Sing.
“Oh glorious Youth, true Child of Hercules,
“That kilst with ease such Monstrous Beasts as these.

Lynco.
“Oh glorious Conquerour, by whom lyes slain
“The terrour of th'Arcadian plain:
“This is the famous Trophy, Noble Toyle
“Of him whom we our Demi god must stile:
“Extol his great Name Shepherds, and this day
“Keep ever Solemn, ever Holy-day.
The Shepherds Sing.

Lynco.
“Oh glorious Youth, who didst despise thy own
“For others safeties.

Sylv.
All that I have done,
Was but my duty. “Vertue climbs her Throne
“By these steep Stairs, and the high Gods have set
“Danger and Toyle before her Pallace Gate.


The Shepherds Song.
Thanks Conquerour to thee; no more shall the Clown
Be scar'd from the Plough, and the Tillage lay down;
“He shall Sow the plump Seed, & from Earths pregnant Womb,
“Expect the wisht fruit when the Season is come:
No more shall the Shepherds be frightned away,
The Nymphs and their Loves in the Forrests shall play.
Chor.
No more shall the Sheperds, &c.

Lync.
“Such peradventure was the famous Bore
“Alcides slew, yet so thy glory's more;
“'Tis thy first labour, but his third.
“But with wild Beasts thy Infant Valour playes,
“To kill worse Monsters in thy riper dayes.

Sylv.
“But stay, I see, unless my eyes mistake
“A greyish thing at Couch in yonder brake;
“Sure some wilde Beast, most certainly 'tis one
More Tryumphs still, my Victories to Crown.
Direct this Arrow by thy power Divine,
And Cynthia, the devoted head is thine.

[Sylvio draws an Arrow and shoots; at which Lynco, and some of the other Shepherds go out.
Sylv.
“What have I done, what have my Eyes beheld?
“In a Beasts skin I have a Shepherd kill'd:
Sylvio an end to all thy Tryumphs give;
“Throw down thy Weapons and inglorious live.

Enter Lynco and the former Shepherds, leading in Dorinda bleeding as wounded with an Arrow.
Lync.
Lean gently on my Arm.

Dorin.
May I not know—

Sylv.
Dorinda!

Dorin.
To what hand my death I owe?

Lynco.
To Sylvio's.

Dorin.
Must I Sylvio's Martyr prove?

Sylv.
How ill poor Nymph have I repaid thy Love.

Dor.
Kill'd by so dear a hand?

Sylv.
How can I gaze
On so much ruine? dare I see that Face
And live? “No, flye thy guilt, flye thy disgrace;
“Yet something holds me, and would make me run
“To her, whom I of all the world did shun.

Dorin.
Why do you look so wildly—do not start
At what you've done; if you have struck my heart?
It was your own, and that can be no fault:
“Those hands to wound me, your fair Eyes have taught.

Sylv.
Run Linco, flye, and bring some quick relief;
Bring all your help, Friends, Arts to save her Life;
Fly as you value my Eternal Bliss.

[Exit Linco.
Dorin.
This Care is wondrous kind, indeed it is.
But now I fear it comes too late.

Sylv.
Too late.
Divert ye Gods this bloody Scene of Fate,
And save her Life, or I must ever howle:
Horrors and Hell will haunt my tortur'd soul.

Dorin.
Wipe your dear Eyes, this grief I cannot see.
You are too good to be disturb'd for me:
But if you think my death a fault has been,
Let me enjoyn the pennance for your sin:
When I am dead, dear Sylvio, do but come
Once in a day, and visit my cold Tomb.
And when you see the pretty Garlands hung
About my Grave, to shew I dy'd so young,
And think how the bewailing Nymphs all met,
With trembling hands the Cypress branches set,
And mixt the flowers their tender Eyes all wet;
When you shall read upon the little Stone,
Here lyes Dorinda by her Love undone,
And o're my dust the weeping Marble see,
Then with a sigh you will remember me.

Sylv.
Remember thee; is this weak Tribute all
That I must pay for thy unhappy fall?

Dorin.
And is not this enough? Will you do more
Then sigh for my poor sake; nay, then you shall weep too,
And mourn for me, as I have done for you.
Say, will you not?

Sylv.
Is that all I can pay?
A Pious Mourner at your Grave I'le stay,
And on your Marble, weep my Life away.
Why could our meeting Souls no sooner joyne?
Now dear Dorinda, I am intirely thine.

Dorind.
Then I'le dye pleas'd, if Death hath made you mine.

Sylv.
Must so much goodness dye? when thou art dead,
And all that's dear on Earth's for ever fled;
Thus o're thy Dust I'le hang my drooping Head.

Dorin.
But will you wish I were alive agen?

Sylv.
More then for Heaven.

Dorind.
But would you love me then?

Sylv.
More than the Saints love Bliss: I'de be all thine:
No Constancy, no Faith, no Love like mine.

Dorind.
With Joy before I could my Life resign.
But Death will now but little welcome find.
Now I'de fain live to hear you speak thus kind.

Enter Lynco and Dameta.
Sylv.
Oh save her Life, with hers redeem my Fate:
[to Da.
Restore her Heaven; but if I pray too late,
If Faith on Earth the Gods above regard,
With Constellations, and with Crowns reward,
No common Coronet's reserv'd for thee
In Heav'n, in Hell no common pains for me.

Exeunt.