University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

ARCAS and ÆGON.
Ægon.
This way I see old Corydon advancing:
He comes, by my Appointment, to complain
Of some Abuse, that's offer'd to his Daughter,
And hopes that your Authority will right him.

Arc.
'Tis true, somewhat of this I've heard.

Æg.
He's here, with all the Parties, to attend you.

Enter Corydon, Phillida, Cimon, Mopsus, Damon, and other Shepherds.
Cor.
May all our Gods preserve the noble Arcas,
Lord of our Lands and Flocks—

Arc.
—Good Neighbours, welcome:
What seems amiss, that may concern your Welfare?

Cor.
Ah! my good Lord, I have no Skill to speech it,
But Grief at Heart will always find a Tongue.
My Lord, this home-bred Maid I call my Daughter,
She's all I have, and all my Hope; now I
Would gladly see her well dispos'd in Marriage.
And that she might not die a Maid, unask'd,
I have declar'd one half of what I have
Her Dow'r, in present; at my Death, the rest.
'Tis true, 'tis little; but still the Half is Half.
Now here, so please you, I have found her out
A pair of wholesome Youths, to take her Choice of:
Brothers they be, Sons of my Neighbour Dorus,
This is call'd Cimon, and the younger Mopsus!
Their Means and Manners suit her Breeding well,
And both profess their Hearts are set upon her.

Cim.
Yes, and please you, both cruelly in Love.

[Half crying.
Cor.
Nay pr'ythee, Cimon, let me tell my Story.

Arc.
A little Patience, Friend—

Mop.
—Hoh! hoh! hoh! hoh!
That Fool my Brother's always in the wrong!

Cor.
Fy, fy, Mopsus! now thou art worse than he.

Arc.
On with thy Tale—

Cor.
—Now, Sir, these Lads, I say,
Were nothing in the way to cross their Courtship,
Might one or t'other make her a good Husband.
But here, here, an't please you, lies our Grief;
The wilful Girl is scornful to them both.
And why? because, forsooth! she loves another.
But how! how is her Love dispos'd? Why thus:
This pranking gamesome Boy, this Damon here!
With Songs and Gambols has I think bewitch'd her.
His Pipe, it seems, has play'd her sweeter Sounds,
And all the idle Day they toy and sing together.

Cim.
Ay so they do, an' please you—

Cor.
—Nay, nay, Cimon!

Cim.
Well, well! I've done: but I'm sure it's true tho'—

Cor.
So nothing now will go down with her but Damon.
And what will Damon do? Why, ruin her.
The Lamb that's in the hungry Fox's Mouth,
Has little Hope to scape being made his Breakfast:
For he declares he ne'er intends to marry,
And openly defies my Power to force him.
A hard Defiance to a tender Father!
[Weeps.
Now, good my Lord, 'tis true you're not our King,
And therefore none are bound, by Law, to obey you.
But you've a stronger Tye o'er us, our Hearts.
The Man was branded here, that scorn'd your Pleasure.
And the great Good you do us every Day,
Will make your Word go farther than a Law:
So if your Pity think my Case is hard,
I leave the Manner how, to your great Wisdom;
And hope your Goodness will prevent a Father's Sorrow.

Arc.
O Ægon! how affecting is the Tongue
Of plain Simplicity—The honest Wretch,
He moves me more with Nature's Eloquence,
Than all the Points of our Athenian Orators.
Thy Grief, good Corydon, I take to Heart,
And, to my poor Extent of Power, will serve thee.
But hear we now, what others may reply.
Damon, thou 'ast heard this good old Man's Complaint;
Why hast thou dallied with this Maid's Affection?

Dam.
My Lord, I mean the Lass no harm, not I:
'Tis true, I like her Lip, and so I do
Some twenty others; and twenty others may
Have all the same Demand to marry me.
But, 'las-a-day! tho' Kissing goes by Favour,
A Man can't marry every Girl he kisses.
Were that a Claim, then she that first was kiss'd,
Should first be married; so I hope, my Lord,
I shall not be bound to do One right, in wrong
To Hundreds that should come in turn before her.

Æg.
Sirrah! thou makest thy Perjuries a Sport,
And think'st thy Wit excuses Wickedness.

Dam.
Not so hard, good Master; for Maids sometimes
Are slippery Bits, as well as we: and he
That has but one poor String to his Bow, if that
Should fly, will find but sorry Sport a shooting.

Æg.
Knave! thou'rt a Nuisance; all thy Neighbours note thee
For a Poacher: When Nuts are ripe, he cracks
You half the Apron-strings around the Country.

Arc.
Gently, Ægon; let us suspend Reproof,
That we may hear, without Disguise, his Thoughts.
Well Damon, what Amends to Corydon?
What shall I say I've done to right his Daughter?

Dam.
Why, let the Damsel please herself, my Lord;
If she's dispos'd to marry, there's her Choice.
If to make Life a Frolick—Here's her Man.
There's no great Hardship where the Will is free:
As she must first consent, before she kisses,
I hope she'll first have mine before I marry.
For tho' some Men have hang'd themselves for Maids,
Yet I have known my Betters think a Wife
The worst of Halters; so whate'er betide me,
I hope you won't make Marriage, Sir, my Sentence.

Arc.
Think'st thou a virtuous Bride a Punishment?

Dam.
A Halter made of Silk's a Halter still.
And as the Song wisely says, my Lord,

Cor.
You see, Sir, I have not accus'd him falsly;
He owns himself more wicked than I spoke him.

Arc.
'Tis true, as such we shall consider him.
Well, my good Friends, I hope what you propose
[To Cim. and Mop.
Will shew your Hearts are of an honest Mold.
There stands the Maid; if you have ought to urge,
That may prefer your Hopes to Damon's,
Take this Occasion to avow your Love:
You have her Father's Wish, and my Protection.

Cim.
Ah! Sir, an' like you, I ha' no Heart to speak;
She flouts and glouts at me from Morn to Night,
See how she looks now! 'cause she can't avoid me.

Arc.
Take Courage, Man; 'tis but her maiden Shyness.

Cim.
D'ye think so, Sir? Why then I' will take heart.
If an old Song will do the Thing, have at her.
Ah! poor Cimon, thou art ne'er the nearer:
Not all thy Sighs, nor Songs, nor Sobs can move her.

[Crying.
Cor.
You see, my Lord, the Lad, tho' fearful, in
His Heart is honestly dispos'd however.

Arc.
Perhaps she may be more inclin'd to Mopsus.

Æg.
Come, Mopsus, now for thee, thy Heart seems chearful.

Mop.
Ay, 'twas always so; I love to laugh,
Let things go how they will; why let her frown!
As long as Cimon's us'd as ill as I,
It gives one's Mind a little Ease however:
Happen as 'twill, I shall have him to laugh at.
So, as he's for singing an old Song sadly,
'Twill be but sad, to try a new one merrily.

Æg.
Well said, Mopsus! Thou sing'st it from thy Heart,
And 'tis a merry one—

Mop.
—Better than crying.

Cor.
Ah! Sir, we poor Swains have but homely Words
To speak our Minds; but what we say, we stand to.

Arc.
An honest Principle: Now, my good Friend,
Let us enquire into thy Daughter's Heart;
For that must guide us—

Cor.
—Phillida, come near.

Arc.
Well, my fair Maid, is there within my Power
Ought that may contribute to thy Happiness?
Of all these Youths, for thou art free to chuse,
Which is the Swain comes nearest to thy Heart?

Phil.
Since I am forc'd to speak the Truth, my Lord,
I own my Heart has play'd a simple Game:
I know my Father's Kindness means me well,
And I could wish I had the Power to please him;
But I am loth to lead a savage Life:
And sure, these Lads were woful Company.

Cim.
O scornful Maid! My Heart will burst with Grief.

[Cries.
Mop.
Hoh, hoh! Poor Cimon's in a bitter taking.

[Laughs.
Phil.
'Twere hard to chuse from such Extreams of Folly.
Damon, with all his Infidelities,
Seems not to me, Sir, half so terrible:
And I am more than much afraid I love him.
'Tis true, I know him fickle, false, and faithless;
And I have tried a thousand thousand times
To shut him from my Thoughts, but 'twill not do.
Whene'er my Heart is open, in he comes;
Again submits, and is again forgiven;
Again I love, and am again forsaken;
Yet still he fools me on, and when he's absent,
With Sighs and Songs I thus relieve my Folly.

Arc.
Take Comfort, Corydon; all yet may mend:
Thy Daughter's frank Confession of her Love
Persuades me of her guarded Innocence.
And though licentious Damon may deserve
Severe Reproof; yet for the Maiden's sake
(For what he suffers, her fond Heart will feel)
We will not harden him, by Punishment,
But rather tempt him by Reward, to Virtue.
Of this bad matter make we then the best.
If therefore, Damon, thou, or any Swain,
By Suit, or Service of his Love, can woe,
And win this gentle Maid to be his Bride,
The Dow'r, which her kind Father has declar'd,
My self will double on her Marriage-day,
And give him, with her Hand, my farther Favour.

Cor.
May all the Gods preserve the bounteous Arcas.
A double Portion! Now, my honest Lads,
There's brave Encouragement to warm your Hearts.
Now shew your Skill, and who's the featest Fellow.
Now sing and dance her down to your Desires.
Now Phillida, let faithless Damon see
What Love and Honesty have gain'd by Truth;
And what his Pranks have lost by Wickedness.

Phil.
Dishonesty shall never gain on me.

Mop.
A double Dowry Cimon, now's our Time.

Cim.
Ay, but I'm tender-hearted; my poor Hopes
Will never blossom, while she looks so frosty.

Cor.
Learn of thy Brother, Lad; thou seest he knows
No Fear, nor Grief: Up with thy Heart, and at her.

Cim.
Well then, since you encourage me, I will.

Cor.
Well said, my Boy: Ah! this joyful Day
Has set my Heart upon the merry Pin;
When I was young, 'twas thus I play'd the Sweetheart.

Arc.
Well done my merry Heart, Come, Corydon,
Now let us leave these Lovers free to woe,
And he that first subduing, and subdued,
Comes Hand in Hand, to ask her Bridal Dow'r,
In farther Token of my Love, my self
Will crown him with a Chaplet, worth his wearing.

Æg.
Now for the Garland.—

Mop.
—Live the noble Arcas.

[Ex. Arcas and Ægon severally.
Cor.
—Let me but live to see that Knave,
That graceless Damon bobb'd; let him but wear
The Willow, I'll jump into my Grave
With Joy—

[Exit Cor.
Dam.
—So now have I probably
All my whole Work to do over again,
This double Dow'r, no doubt, will turn her Brain,
And set the Windmill of her Sex a going.

[Aside.
Mop.
Now, Cimon now!

Cim.
—I'd rather you'd speak first.

Mop.
No, you are the Elder—

Cim.
—But my Heart misgives me.

Phil.
Still silent, no kind Offer yet from Damon?
Has Fortune no Effect upon his Heart.

[Aside.
Cim.
No, no, I tell you, I shall never hit
The Tune alone—

Mop.
—Well then be sure you back me.

Phil.
How harsh and tedious is the Voice
Of Love, from any but the Voice desir'd.
Now be silent; if Damon is inclin'd
To speak, his turn is next, you've had your Answer.

Mop.
Well, let him speak; mayhap your Face
May get as little good from him, as ours
From you; 'tisn't every Man will marry you.
Don't cry, Cimon, it only makes her prouder.

Cim.
She has given me such a kick o'the Heart,
I shall never recover it—

Phil.
—Hark thee, Cimon;
I like thee better than thy Brother far.

Cim.
O the Gracious! do you truly and truly?

Phil.
I'll give thee Proof this Instant; take him hence,
And keep him from my Sight an Hour at least:
And when thou seest me next, come thou without him.

Cim.
Give me thy Hand on't—

Phil.
—Hush, not now, they'll see us.
Away with him—

Cim.
—A Word's enough—I'll do't.
Come, Mopsus, come away—for I have a thing,
And such a thing to tell thee, Boy—

Mop.
—What ails
The Fool? Thou'rt mad.

Cim.
Mad! Ay, and so would you
Be too, were my Case your's: But come away.

Mop.
Nay, not so fast, good Cimon—

Cim.
—Faster, Mopsus, faster.

[Cimon hurries off Mopsus.
Dam.
My charming Creature! this was kindly done:
Never was Favour to a Fool so well
Dissembled.—

Phil.
—Yes, I have learn'd from your dissembling;
And you'll again dissemble to reward me.

Dam.
Why so suspicious, Phillida? Don't I love thee?
Why all this Bustle at my Heart, when thus
I touch thy Hand, or gaze upon thy Eyes!
Give me thy Lips, and see how thour't mistaken.

Phil.
No, Damon, Lips are but liquorish Proofs
Of Love, and thine too often have deceiv'd me.

Dam.

Phil.
'Tis thus thou always hast decoy'd my, Heart:
Thou know'st I love, and therefore would'st undo me.

Dam.
I know thou lov'st, and therefore would secure thee.

Phil.

Dam.
What! not a Hand, a Lip, for old Acquaintance?
Not one poor Sample of the Grain, my Dear,
Unless I make a Purchase of the whole?

Dam.
No, Damon; now 'tis time to end our Fooling:
Consent to wed me, or forbear to love.

Dam.
What! dost thou think to starve me into Marriage?

Phil.
I'll starve myself, but I'll avoid thy falshood.
Graze where thou wilt, I'll feed no ranging Lovers.

Dam.
No—nor I won't be pounded while I can leap
A Hedge; so keep your Grass for Calves to graze on:
I need not go a Mile for Pasture, Dame;
And good as any Meal that you can make me.

Phil.
Do leave me, do, and prove thyself a Traitor;
Faithless, inhuman Damon—

Dam.
—Mighty well.
This double Dow'r, I find, has turn'd thy Brain;
And thou would'st make me madder than thyself:
A Husband, Death! a Mill-horse! what, to grind,
And grind, in one poor hopeless Round of Life;
To-day, to-morrow, and to-morrow, still
To plod the Path I trod the Day before.
O! methinks I feel the Collar on my Shoulders.

Phil.
Abandon'd Damon! now I begin to hate thee.

Dam.
I'm glad, my Mistress, that you'll speak your Mind:
Some Girls will fool you on till one's Heartaches.
But since I know your Play, Forsooth, hang lag,
Say I; and so farewel, fair Phillida.