University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Daphne, Sylvia.
Daphne.
Sylvia , will you still persist
In this strange disgust of Love?
Will you still refuse to hear
Our Shepherds sighs, and scorn their tears?
But if sighs and tears in vain
Attempt to move your cruel heart,
Methinks the hopes that you might have
To see a lovely Infant smile,
And call you Mother, should succeed:
Change, foolish Creature, change your thoughts,
And be not constant to a Crime.

Sylvia.
Let others, if they please, be mov'd
With sighs and tears, and take delight
To play with Love: I'll never quit
The Forests, never leave the Chace,
Whilst Beasts of prey are to be found.
I'll range the Woods, I'll scour the Plains,
And with my Bow and Quiver find
A better way to nobler sport.

Daphne.
Dull sport, and an insipid life!
You Sylvia, stubborn as thou art,
Will think so too, when you begin
To taste the sweets of Love.
‘So the first people, who possest
‘In Innocence the Infant World,
‘Fed on Acorns, and when dry
‘Drank the Waters of the Brook:
‘Beasts only now on Acorns feed,
‘And drink the Waters of the Brook:
‘And thus when you at last shall feel
‘How pleasant 'tis beneath a shade,
‘To sit and talk with one you love:
Then, Sylvia, you'll repent and cry,
Ah, fool! I never lov'd till now.
You'll throw away your Arrows, break your Bow,
And curse the minutes you have lost.
Change, foolish Creature change your thoughts,
And be not constant to a Crime.

Sylvia.
When I sit and talk of Love,
Dogs shall be afraid of Hares,
Wolves of Lambs, and Streams return
To the Fountains whence they rose;
Bears shall then the Forests leave,
And Dolphins dance about the Plains.

Daphne.
I know your pride, for I was once
Wild and obstinate, like you.
‘I was then as fair, my Locks
‘As white as yours, my Lips as red:
‘Such Roses and such Lillies grac'd
‘My Cheeks, as flourish now on yours.
‘'Twas then (so stupid was my taste)
‘The darling pleasure of my life,
‘To set my Lime-twigs, lay my Nets,
‘And laugh as often as I saw
‘The Birds entangled in my Snares.
I then delighted in the Chace,
And scorn'd, with savage modesty,
The Shepherds whom my Charms had conquer'd:
I was then so far unjust,
As once to think it cause enough
To hate 'em for their loving me;
And pleasing them displeas'd my self:
But oh! what will not time effect;
What will not services and sighs,
Desert, entreaties, truth and tears?
What, Sylvia, will not all these do?

Sylvia,
Nothing with a mind resolv'd
Against their flatteries, like mine.

Daphne.
Mistaken Maid!
They'll master every stubborn thought,
And force our hearts to think of Love.
I know it by my self, for I have felt,
And must confess their power.
They tempted me to tear my Nets,
Neglect my Lime-twigs, break my Bow,
And fling my Arrows in the Air.
I cry'd there, there, Diana, take
These useless Weapons, I renounce
The Woods and all thy sports for Love.

Sylvia.
Renounce 'em by your self and as for me—

Daphne.
Who knows, Amintas may in time
Convert even thee to do as much:
Is he not handsom? Can you see
A comelier youth in all the plain?
If you're related to the Gods.
Amintas is deriv'd from Pan:
You oft have Amarillis seen,
And in some Fountain may compare
Her beauties with your own.
The difference, Sylvia, is not great,
Yet poor Amintas shuns her smiles,
To follow your contempt and you;
And for your hate despises Love.
But think it may not still be thus,
Think when her Beauties or her smiles
Have toucht his heart, they'll laugh at yours,
And make a jest of thy disdain.

Sylv.
Where e're he pleases let him love,
And Court what Maid he will but me:
I'll ne're be troubled with his heart,
Nor give him any hopes of mine.

Daphne.
What makes you hate him thus?

Sylv.
His love.

Daphne.
‘Ah cruelty! we might expect
‘That Ravens would be born of Swans,
‘Of Tygers Lambs, as well as thou
‘From tender Parents be deriv'd.

Sylv.
I hate his Love because he hates
What I love most, a Maiden life.
While friendship only warm'd his Soul,
None could esteem him more than I.

Dap.
You'd have him then confine his wishes,
To as narrow bounds as yours,
He less deserves to be condemn'd
For wishing much,
Than you do for not wishing more.

Syl.
Daphne, Peace, or if you'll talk,
Prithee talk of something else.

Dap.
Suppose another Swain should court ye,
Would you, Sylvia use him thus.

Syl.
Thus every one that dares attempt
To interrupt me in my sports;
And he that talks of Love to me,
I'll use him as he is, my Foe.

Dap.
You may, Sylvia, then suppose
Turtles to their Mates are foes.
When the Birds begin to sing,
You may think they hate the Spring:
You may, if you please, suppose,
Nature and the Spring are foes,
That its pregnant heats create
Flowers, Plants, and Fruit in hate.
But if you observe, you find
Every thing to Love inclin'd
Doves in gentle whispers woe
Their tender Mates, and bill and coe.
The Nightingale flies round the Grove,
And sings on every Bough I love.
Beasts by nature fierce and wild,
Become, when Love commands 'em, mild.
The Lyon, Wolf, the Tyger, Bear,
Less cruel, Sylvia, than you are,
In Savage murmurs Love declare.
E'en Trees their amorous branches join,
The Ivy fondly clasps the Vine,
And her kind embraces shew,
What you to Love and Nature owe.
Change, foolish Creature, change your thoughts,
And be not constant to a Crime.

Syl.
If Beasts, if Trees, or Ivy shew,
What Love and Nature bid me do,
I'll tarry till they tell me so.

Dap.
You mock me, Sylvia, have a care
How you make a jest of Love.
The time will come when you'll repent,
For laughing at my Counsel now.
When wrinkles shrivel up your brow:
When the clear Fountains you will shun,
Where now you take too much delight,
To view your Beauties; where you gaze
Whole hours with pleasure on that face,
Which then you'll be afraid to see.
Then, Sylvia, you'll repent in vain
You did not follow my advice.
Have you forgot, or never heard
What wise Elpinus told the fair,
The cruel Lycoris, whose eyes
Are not more charming than his voice?
Have you forgot it, Sylvia?

Sylvia.
I know not what you mean.

Daph.
'Tis strange:
'Twas in Aurora's awful Cave,
‘O're whose mouth are writ these words,
‘Hence, hence, O ye Profane!
Battus and Thyrsis being by,
He told her what he learnt from him,
Who sung so well of War and Love,
And left him when he dy'd, his Pipe;
That there's a place among the damn'd,
Where all ungrateful Beauties live,
Tormented with eternal fires:
The Gods being careful to revenge
Their Lovers wrongs; and 'tis but just
That pain should melt 'em into tears,
Since pity could not touch their hearts.
‘Think, think on this, and if you dare,
‘Persist, O Fool, in thy disdain.

Sylvia.
‘And what said Lycoris to this?

Daph.
‘You're fond to know anothers thoughts,
‘But will not change your own. She seem'd
‘Convinc'd, and answer'd with her eyes.

Syl.
‘What? answer with her Eyes! Pray tell me how.

Daph.
‘She smil'd, and turning to the Swain,
‘In her kind looks she seem'd to say,
‘I'm conquer'd; take the heart you begg'd,
‘You cannot wish for more.
‘She seem'd to say it, and 'thad been enough,
‘If men might venture to believe,
‘Or trust the Language of the eyes.

Syl.
‘Why did he not believe it?

Daph.
‘Have you not read what Thyrsis wrote?
‘In yonder Wood, where sorrow led
‘His wandering steps? The Nymphs and Swains
‘Laught at, and pity'd him, to see
‘The foolish things he often did,
‘In many of his amorous fits:
‘Yet foolish as his actions seem'd,
‘His words were sensible; and none
‘Have cause to laugh at what he wrote.
‘Deceitful Glass, where oft I see
‘False glances to deceive me,
‘The Heart must with the Eyes agree,
‘Or they will ne're relieve me.
‘When dying Looks and smiles I meet,
‘I'm still afraid of Treason,
‘But Love, to help 'em in the Cheat,
‘Deprives me of my Reason.
‘He Grav'd 'em on a thousand Trees;
‘And Nature, careful of his sense,
‘Preserves his Verses free from storms,
‘And makes 'em flourish in the Bark.

Syl.
Daphne, we fool away the day
In idle talk; 'tis time for me
To be provided for my Sport.
First then I'll to the lonely Brook,
Which glides thro yon delicious Wood,
And bath me in the Crystal stream;
There playing with the waves a while,
I grow refresh'd, and with new life,
Rise from the Waters to the Chace.

Daph.
'Tis early, I must first go home,
I'll meet you after at the Brook,
And bath me with you, if you please.
But, Sylvia, think on what I've said,
Tis of more consequence than Brooks,
Or Dogs, or Forests, or your Game;
And if you know not yet what 'tis
To love, ah! learn of those that do:
Love of all pleasures is the best,
And none can be without it blest.

Exeunt.