 | Pastor Fido : or, The Faithful Shepherd |  |
54
ACT the fifth.
SCENE, the Temple of Diana.Amaryllis appears bound, with Guards of Shepherds attending, with a Heads-man and an Axe.
Enter to her Mirtillo, who kneels to her.
Amar.
Mirtillo rise; this posture does not fit
My dying state: And though our Sex admit
Such humble Tribute in their Pomp and Pride,
Now I must lay that Vanity aside.
Mirt.
If so much Innocence must bleed, and all
Th'unaiding Gods can see such Virtue fall:
Where all my Vows, and all my Prayers are due,
Be not offended if thus low I bow;
You are a part of Heav'n, and 'tis my Duty now.
Amar.
Mirtillo, do not chide me when I own,
I grieve in death we two must part so soon.
Mirt.
Oh my charm'd Ears, dear Excellence go on.
Amar.
Had Life been mine, I had kept this secret hid;
But Modestys strict Laws sure can't forbid
To own my kindness now. Yet if it be
A fault, my dear Mirtillo, to impart
The tender secrets of a dying heart,
I shall be quickly punisht for my sin;
That Tongue that utters it, ne're speaks agin.
And you'l soon see in Scarlet currents flow,
That blood that blushes when I tell you so.
Mirt.
What divine Raptures from this sweetness flow.
But after all these blessings must you dye;
Never was happiness wound up so high,
To break so soon.
Amar.
Since I have gone thus far,
I can't but let you all my weakness hear.
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Into that fatal Cave I was betray'd,
To have found Sylvio false; and enter'd in,
By the just forfeit of his Faithless sin,
To break the Fetters I was doom'd to wear;
And so recall my Vows to pay 'em here.
Mirt.
Now t'all this dazeling kindness hear
From me, the barbarous return I made.
I too was to that fatal Cave betray'd.
I saw you enter in, and my blind Jealousie
By false Coriscas Arts was rais'd so high,
That my Accurst misguided soul had fram'd
Those black and hideous thoughts, for which 'tis damn'd.
I went to find a Base-born Shepherd there,
Divinely good, and excellently fair.
Now judge, if in the race of man there be
A Devil such as I, or Saint like thee.
Amar.
Mirtillo, 'twas unkind, 'twas much unkind.
Mirt.
Is that the harshest name, that you can find?
Why was I made the Monster of Man-kind?
Suspect such Innocence, such goodness doubt;
No Infidel but I durst harbour such a thought.
Just Heav'n by your wing'd Lightning let me burn,
And fall a Funeral Taper at her Urn.
Amar.
Hold unkind Sir—
Mirt.
Let me go on: What Curse too great can be
For that Infernal Slave that Murders thee?
Amar.
As I forgive you Sir (and may Heav'n too)
No farther this unpleasing style pursue.
Mirt.
Must I be silent then?
Amar.
Yes Sir, you shall.
To our unhappy Stars impute my fall.
Mirt.
Oh Miracle of Goodness!
Amar.
And if e're
You truely Loved, let your calm looks appear.
This as I'm dying, sure you can't deny.
'Tis worse to bear your horrours than to dye.
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Divinest of thy Sex, thou art obey'd;
I'le summon all my Courage to my aid.
Enter Corisca.
Corisca here?
Corisc.
The Priest within, and the chief Ministers
Are feasting Heav'n with Sacrifice and Pray'rs.
The place is safe, and I may speak. Her Guards
Keep distance, and I shall not be o're-heard.
Mirt.
Dares thy Accursed Face—
Corisc.
What dismal Prologue's there?
[aside.
No Sir, it is my kindness brings me here.
I come to save her Life.
Mirt.
Wilt thou protect her Life, and clear her Fame.
Cor.
I will.
Mirt.
Then I'le raise Altars to thy Name.
Corisc.
When I betray'd you—
Mirt.
I forgive the sin.
Name it no more; thou art all white agen.
Save but her Life, and in immortal Charms
I'le Live for ever.
Corisc.
Hold. Not in her Arms.
Mirt.
What do I hear?
Corisc.
Unseal your blinded Eyes.
I am that Nymph, who for Mirtillo dyes.
And once my Rivals Murder had design'd,
But thanks to Heav'n I've chang'd that bloody mind.
The Guilt's all gone, but yet the Love remains.
Mirtillo, if in pitty to my pains,
You can be moved by a sad Virgins Prayer,
To save my Life by killing my Despair:
Your hand to me before this Altar give,
And Amaryllis for that Grace shall live.
Amar.
Oh horrour! what a killing sound is here?
Corisc.
Nor for her safety think you pay so dear.
I rob you Sir of nothing. She can ne're
Be Yours; the Bars that Destiny has thrown
Betwixt your Loves, have your vain hopes undone.
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By her false Accusations let me dye.
If nothing but your Love my Life can buy,
That mighty sum do not too Prodigally pay;
That hour that takes Mirtilloes heart away,
My Death begins. Then let it gently come;
Let me not sink in Tortures to my Tomb.
Corisc.
Oh my wrack'd heart!
Mirt.
Oh my transported soul!
Was ever Love so true?
Corisc.
Was ever Fool
So Idle? Yes, embrace thy amorous Prize:
Fill thy fond Arms, and glut thy greedy Eyes:
But know in one half hour thy darling dyes.
Mirt.
Infernal Fiend.
Kneels to Corisca.
Forgive me; Angel, was the word I meant.
Save but her Life, and be my Tutelar Saint.
Enter Montano, Ergasto, Linco, and several Shepherds and Priests in Procession, singing.
SONG.
“Sols Sister, Daughter of great Jupiter,
“That shin'st a second Sun in the first Sphear,
“To the blind World.
“Thou, whose Life-giving and more temp'rate ray
“Thy Brothers burning fury does allay.
“Ah pitty thy Arcadia, and that rage
“Thou dost in others in thy self asswage.
Mirt.
“Once more your sacred Voyces all Unite;
“And once agen invoke the Queen of Night.
Second SONG.
Where's artless Innocence and guiltless Loves,
If they are Banisht the Arcadian Groves.
Fair Cynthia, though late,
Pitty the Ruins of a World, “Create
“In us true Honour: Virtue's all the State
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“Which were thy Courts, but now thy absence mourn:
“From their dead sleeps awake,
All those Lethargick Infidels,
Who following their corrupted Wills,
“Thee and the glory of the ancient World forsake.
Mirt.
To what dire Prodigies does sin give Birth?
“The Goddess sweats cold drops of blood; the Earth
“Is Palsie shook; the sacred Cavern houls
“With such unwonted sounds as tortur'd souls
“Send out of Graves: Our blasted Victims show
Our Ills too plain, and our Revenge too slow.
Mirt.
These Prodigies by angry Heav'n are sent
To prove this perjur'd Beauty Innocent.
Mistake not, Holy Sir;
When Justice strikes, and suffering Criminals dye,
The Gods look smiling, and serene their Sky.
These horrors all from Innocent blood arise:
Heaven's only Clouded when the guiltless dyes.
Corisc.
How! guiltless? would she were: Then these chast Groves
Had never been profaned with impious Loves.
Her Infamy had then not been so loud;
Nor had this Funeral pomp drawn all this mourning crowd.
Mirt.
Exquisite Fiend!
Oh Sir, believe her not.
This Injur'd Virgins Honour has no spot.
A purer Saint the undeserving World ne're graced;
A brighter Star in Heav'n was never placed:
The Goddess you adore is not more Chast.
Mont.
Forbear this Blasphemy.
Corisc.
No, let him Rave;
'Tis all the pleasure that poor Losers have.
No kindness yet.
[aside to Mirt.
Mirt.
Oh my distracted Soul!
Corisc.
Yet yield, and she shall live.
[to Mirt.
Mirt.
No Traytress.
Corisc.
Constant Fool!
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Now Nymph, before the Fatal stroke is given,
If thou would'st reconcile thy self to Heaven,
Make thy last Prayer.
Amar.
Kneeling.
Since then my Stars my Martyrdom decree,
My injur'd Fame, dear Heav'n, I leave to Thee.
Clear but my sullyed Name, when I am dead,
And willingly to th'Axe I'le bow my Head.
“My Body to its Native dust I give:
“My Soul to Him, in whom alone I live.
Mirt.
If she must dye:
Here my last Vows I'le seal.
[Kneels & kisses her hand.
Mont.
Rude Swain forbear.
Such profanation is not suffer'd here.
Mirt.
You may more easily Seas from Seas divide:
Our Souls are joyn'd, and make one mixing Tide.
Mont.
Force 'em asunder.
'Tis no wonder Heav'n
The Attendants force 'em apart.
Has such dread signs of its displeasure given:
When their own Rites they thus polluted see,
And from such stains not their own Altars free.
Mirt.
Is there such Treason in a parting kiss?
For ever torn from all my dearest bliss.
Amar.
Mirtillo, this is an unkind Divorce;
But let their cruel Rites have their free course.
Love at this distance, no strict Laws deny:
Thus I'le look blessings on You, and then dye.
Enter Carino and Dameta.
Car.
Hold, hold, your Fatal Doom!
Mirt.
My Father here?
Carin.
Yes, and thy Father is thy Murderer.
Thou art Montanoes Son; and if he give
Her Death, in whom thy Life does only live,
'Tis his own blood he spills.
Mont.
Take heed bold Man.
Car.
Sir I speak truth, and fright me if you can.
The Son you lost i'th'deluge, is this Youth;
I found him lodged near our Alpheos mouth
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“Into the Woods had carryed him afloat.
Such care had Heav'n—
Mont.
Where is Dameta?
Dam.
Here.
Mont.
“When you came back ('tis since some 20. year)
“From seeking of my Child, which the swoln brook,
“By'ts rapid Inundations from me took:
“Did you not say that you had sought with pain,
“All that Alpheo Baths, and all in vain.
“How comes it then—
Dam.
Your pardon Royal Sir,
I went to seek him, and I found him there.
But this good Man had kept him as his Son,
And Fear made me conceal what he had done.
Because the Oracle fore-told me there,
“That if the Child then found should e're
“Return, he should be like to dye,
“By his mis-guided Fathers Cruelty.
Mont.
“Ah me! it is too clear: This act of mine,
“My Dream and th'Oracle did well Divine.
Why did the Gods protect my drowning Child?
Preserve my blood to have it thus defil'd.
Mirt.
Great Sir, from whom my Royal Birth I draw,
I claim the favour of th'Arcadian Law:
When Criminals are doom'd to bleed,
Equals in blood in their Exchange may dye,
And now that Equal to her blood am I.
How can you see such Fetters on those hands?
Make hast, unty, unty those impious Bands.
And in her place, by the kind Gods decree,
Your Cynthias juster Victim, offer me.
Corisc.
Now all my hopes are ruin'd—
Foolish Swain!
[aside.
By my curst Arts my dear Mirtillo slain!
Amar.
Why generous Youth do you pursue this claim?
You'l save me from the Axe to dye with shame.
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What glory to my Royal Birth I owe,
When to redeem thy Life, my blood may flow.
Corisc.
I cannot see him dye.
[aside.
Enter Sylvano.
If you have pitty for a Virgins Prayer,
[kneels.
For your own blood, this dear Youths blooming years,
And your Arcadias hope—
Sylvan.
What do I see!
By all the Devils in her Soul, 'tis she.
Corisc.
Alas, I've been unkind—
Mont.
What does she say?
Corisc.
To Death with him; take the fond Fool away.
Pray for his Life! my dull mistake forgive.
A Slave so senseless don't deserve to live.
Sylvan.
By all that's good, she Loves the smooth-fac'd Youth.
Sir, I Conjure you by your Love to Truth:
By all your piety, the Gods you fear,
Believe her not; that Monster do not hear.
On her own head let your kind Justice fall;
She has Cheated You, Her, Him; Betray'd you all.
Treason's her business, Poyson's in her Tears;
Perdition in her soul; she never Swears
But she is Perjur'd; if she speaks, she Lyes;
And all the Prayers she makes, are Blasphemies.
Carin.
“Thou art the happiest Father, and most dear
“To the immortal Deities; see here
“The long-kept secret of our Fate made clear.
“Tears of delight in such abundance flow,
“From out my heart, I scarce can speak. Our Woe,
“Our Woe shall end when two of race Divine,
“Love shall combine,
“And for a Faithless Nymphs Apostate state,
“A faithful Shepherd Supererrogate,
Of Heav'nly race is not this Youth, when thine?
And Amaryllis is of race Divine.
“And what great Sir, but Love has them combin'd?
Sylvio, by Parents and by Force was joyn'd
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“From Loving her, as Love and Hatred are.
Mont.
“In what a mist of Errors, how profound
“A night of Ignorance have I been drownd?
By every Circumstance 'tis evident
“The fatal Voyce, none but Mirtillo meant.
“For who indeed since slain Amintas Death
“Exprest such Love as he? such constant Faith?
“Who but Mirtillo for his Mrs. wou'd,
“Since true Amintas spend his dearest blood?
“This is that work of Supererrogation;
“This is that faithful Shepherds expiation
For the Apostate Lucrin's fact. Now Son,
Compleat a Nations joys, and Crown thy own.
[Gives him Amaryllis.
Mirt.
Then the Immortal Treasure let me seize,
And thus kind Sir, embrace your sacred knees.
Amar.
Our Loves thus Crown'd, Ergasto flye, and save
My wretched mourning Father from a Grave:
Tell him I live, and all his fears remove.
Mirt.
Thy Piety's as Charming as thy Love.
Corisc.
Break, break my heart.
Mont.
But as the Gods ordein'd
T'unite your hearts, your hearts must be unstain'd.
Heav'n that preserved thy Childhood from the Flood,
By Miracle restored thee to my Blood;
And to oblige Man-kind, decreed this tye,
Could do no less than guard her Chastity.
As you dread Tortures, Death, and angry Heav'n,
[to Cor.
Confess her Injuries and be forgiven.
Repent, and say she's Innocent.
Corisc.
I do.
I wrong'd you Sir, but yet I loved you too.
[to Mir.
Sylvan.
Yes, she has loved him, and all Man-kind beside;
The Sex is not enough to please her Pride.
Corisc.
Oh how I hate that Face.
Sylvan.
I know you do.
Corisc.
Dear World farewell, and all delights adieu.
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Sir, as you ever Faith and Justice prize,
Hear from my tongue that Witches Sorceries.
Their Entrance to the Cave's her Plot, and laid
Only to have her Rivals Life betray'd.
And yet by all the Oaths Art could design,
Or faithless Woman ever break, she's mine.
And mine by all her Conjurations; nay
To morrow was to be our Wedding day:
And all was but a trick to take me hence,
Least I should stay to prove her Innocence.
Never did such a monstrous spurious Race
Of Nature, Heav'n, and Natures works disgrace.
Mont.
Is all this Truth?
Sylvan.
Too true.
Mont.
Just Heav'n forbid.
False Nymph, did You—
Corisc.
I know not what I did;
I Cheated Him, wrong'd Him, design'd Her Fall:
I have my Pardon, and I Own it all.
Mont.
Had ever blood been so unjustly spilt.
But though I have forgiven your savage guilt,
I can't permit your breach of Faith; I must
Not only pardon you, but make you just.
Cor.
I am all horrour.
Mirt.
If this false-Fair ones Crimes you can forgive,
And take an humble penitent Fugitive,
She's yours.
Corisc.
Death and Confusion!
Mont.
'Twas breach of Faith was the provoking guilt,
In all the sufferings Arcadia felt.
But it shall end.
Sylv.
You could not please me more.
This Nymph is all the Blessings I implore.
I hate her worse
Then Hell, and of all other hopes bereft,
[aside,
Marriage is all the dear Revenge that's left.
Corisc.
Is this your promis'd mercy?
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Mont.
Is this your Penitence for your pardon'd Crime?
Corisc.
To Marry him is all the plagues of Hell:
Adders and Scorpions.
Sylvan.
No, 'tis wondrous well.
I shall Convert thee, pretty Infidel.
Corisc.
Have you no mercy left? no pitty Sir?
Sylvan.
Have you no Justice left? Give me but her—
Corisc.
Of all the Savages the World can find,
Let me but shun that Monster of the kind.
Sylv.
Of all the happiness of humane Life,
I only beg that Jewel, for a Wife.
Cor.
Oh Sir! you Stab me, Kill me—
Mont.
When you Swore
You'd Marry him, were Oaths esteem'd no more?
Forsaken Piety, where art thou fled?
Be just, as you wou'd save your forfeit Head.
Corisc.
I loath thy very sight.
Sylv.
And I love thee, my pretty Innocence,
As much as thy Hot blood loves Impotence.
Cor.
Why then Inhumane will you Marry me?
Sylvan.
To torture every Vein of thy false heart,
Make thy checkt pride at my dear Vengeance start.
Thy torments will a secret Joy afford.
I was thy Slave, and now shall be thy Lord.
Nor hope I'le shun thy hated Bed; in spight
I'le Tyrannize all day, and sport all night.
My Head I'le on thy perjur'd Bosom lay;
Ransack thy spoyles, and chace thy sleeps away.
Enter Sylvio and Dorinda, who kneel to Montano.
Corisc.
Yes, Villain do, and my Revenge shall be,
I will be kind to all thy Sex, but thee:
I'le make you a worse Monster than you are.
Oh I am Mad—
Sylvan.
A very hopefull pair.
Corisc.
I'le meet thy loath'd embrace in such a frightful shape,
That every Kiss you force, shall be a Rape.
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As I am doubly punisht for my Crime,
At once in losing you, and meeting him,
In pitty to the Ruins which you make,
Those few stol'n minutes from her Arms you take,
Bestow on me. You'l find me strangely good.
I'le banish all the Feavour from my blood;
And love you with desires so pure, so chast—
Sylvna.
Stand off; the Witchcrafts of those Eyes are past:
Dear Mine, I'le lay thy wandring Devils fast.
Corisc.
You shall be welcome to my Soul, my Arms.
But if the force of her more pow'rful Charms
Hold you too sure; to make him Jealous, be
So kind, as but to feign and flatter me.
Ayd the Revenge of an unhappy Wife,
And make him lead a wretched Husbands Life.
Sylvan.
Let him come near thee, Syren, if he can;
Thy Slavery shall have so short a chain,
I'le keep my aking Fore-head from that pain.
Corisc.
In all the Cheats I used, the tricks I plaid,
And all the Credulous Fools I have betray'd,
Free from all hainous Crimes I safely slept:
My Virgin Chastity entire I kept.
Did I preserve my Innocence for this?
A Maid! dull Slave, I am too good for thee.
A Curse upon my Idle Honesty.
Sylvan.
Can she be honest then at last? If this
Be true, ye Gods, I ask no greater Bliss.
Sylvio.
Your Confirmation of our Loves has given
Me all the joys I wish on this side Heav'n.
Dorind.
But Sylvio see you Love me as you shou'd,
And slight me not for want of Heav'nly blood.
But, Sir, if Love to Gods Allied can be,
I am as near of Kin to Heav'n as she.
Enter Titiro.
Tit.
Welcome to Life, and to thy Fathers Arms:
I am all joy: My Youth ne're felt such Charms.
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[to Mirt.
This day has all the longest Life could give.
Dorin.
Gerana.
Ger.
My dear Joy.
Dorind.
The happy Dart
That Sylvio shot, brought me my Sylvio's heart:
Through the dear Wound his Soul came fluttering in:
He'l Love, and Love, and never Hate agen.
But you have been unkind.
Ger.
I?
Dor.
Yes, you said
I should not think of Love, Heav'n knows how long,
Till seaven years hence. But you were in the wrong;
My Sylvio finds no fault that I'm too Young.
Mont.
Now my dear Children, share your Fathers heart;
Love has this day play'd its Triumphant part.
But, Cynthia, all these Blessings spring from Thee;
Faith, Innocence, Truth, Justice, Constancy,
And every Grace that humane Breast inspires,
Is but a spark of the Celestial fires.
Mirt.
All other Vertues may be taught a hove;
But ye great Gods look down, and learn to Love.
Exeunt Omnes.
FINIS.
| Pastor Fido : or, The Faithful Shepherd | |