University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Amintas, Thyrsis.
Amin.
I fain, methinks, before I dye,
Would know how Thyrsis has succeeded:
If he can do more than I
Have done, and Sylvia will not hear
With patience any one that speaks for me,
Here on this spot of Earth I'll end my pains,
And in her presence finish with my breath,
The tortures of my Soul.
The wounds which in my breast my hands shall make
Will certainly transport her, since
With so much pleasure she beholds
The wounds which in my heart her eyes have made.

Thyr.
Courage, Amintas, I have news
To tell thee that will bring thee hope.

Amin.
Ah, Thyrsis, is it Life or Death?

Thyr.
'Tis Life and Joy, if thou art bold enough
To meet 'em where they're to be found:
But then, Amintas, 'tis requir'd
That thou shouldst shew thy self a Man;
A Man that dares do any thing for Love.

Amin.
What must I dare? and whom encounter?

Thyr.
Suppose your Mistress, in a Wood,
Encompast with high Rocks, where Wolves,
Where Lyons, Bears and Tygers lurk,
Would you to get her venture there?

Amin.
I'd run as joyfully as e're I went
To Dance and Revel at our rural Feasts.

Thyr.
Suppose her in the hands of Thieves,
Amidst arm'd Robbers, would you venture there?

Amin.
Swift as parcht Stags to cooling Waters run.

Thyr.
Something more daring, something yet more bold
Than this, is to be done to make thee blest.

Amin.
I'd leap into the Ocean, when the Waves
By ruffling Winds are mingled with the Clouds:
I'd walk thro Fire, or else, as I've been told
Orpheus once did, descend to Hell
To find my Sylv'a out, but sure
'Twould not be Hell if she were there.
Tell me then where I am to go?
And what I am to do?

Thyr.
Sylvia, naked and alone,
Attends thee at Diana's Brook:
Amintas durst thou venture there?

Amin.
What dost thou tell me? Sylvia wait
Naked and alone for me?

Thyr.
Alone, if Daphne is not there;
And if she is, you're safe in her.

Amin.
Wait for me, and naked!

Thyr.
Naked—But—

Amin.
But what? Speak out, thy silence kills me.

Thyr.
But 'tis not certain that she waits for thee.

Amin.
This ruins what you said before:
Ah! if you were not sure of that,
Why, Thyrsis, did you say so much?
Why did you shew me joy so near,
And fling me from my hopes so soon
Sure 'tis not friendly to insult
O're one in misery, like me:
Did you believe my griefs too light,
That you encrease their weight?

Thyr.
Be rul'd
By me, you shall be happy still.

Amin.
What would ye have me do?

Thyr.
Go seize
The Maid, while Fortune is your Friend.

Amin.
Ah! Heaven forbid that I should think
Of any thing that would displease her,
Whom I will ne're offend but by my Love;
And if my Love offends her,
'Tis her Beauty's fault, not mine:
In all my actions I resolve
More to consult her pleasure than my own.

Thyr.
If not to Love her were in your pow'r,
Would you cease loving her to please her?

Amin.
Love will not suffer me to think
Of loving her no more? But if
'Twere in my pow'r, 'twould ne're be in my will.

Thyr.
If you could cease your Love, you'd still
Continue it in spite.

Amin.
No, not in spite,
Yet I would Love her still.

Thyr.
Tho it were against her will.

Amin.
Rather than not Love at all.

Thyr.
Why won't you then against her will
Go take the blessing she denies?
Because she knows not yet how good
'Twould be to grant the favour you desire.
If she at first may be a little vext,
She'll soon be well contented with the fault.

Amin.
Love answers thus to what you say,
You have by long experience learnt
To reason of those things with art:
But tho your argument's too strong
For mine, yet I'm convinc'd that 'tis not right.
Love, with my tongue, confines my wishes,
And will not suffer 'em to stray,
Where Sylvia would not let 'em rove.

Thyr.
Then you resolve you will not go?

Amin.
Yes, I will go, but not where you
Advise.

Thyr.
Where then?

Amin.
To Death, if you
Can tell me of no other way
To life; if this is all the good
That you can do me by your help.

Thyr.
Is this so little then? And canst
Thou fancy, foolish as thou art,
That Daphne would have bid us come,
If she, who knows what Sylvia thinks,
Believ'd 'twould give her such offence?
She thought perhaps that 'twas not fit
For you and me to know as much
As she of Sylvia's Soul: Besides,
Enquiring farther in so nice a case,
Instead of pleasing will displease.
You often wisht that you knew how
To please her, you may do it now:
No matter if you take by theft
The joys you covet, or by gift;
When once they're tasted she'll forget
The Crime, the sin will be so sweet.

Amin.
But how can I be sure that I may go?

Thyr.
You can't be surer than you are:
She would, as decency requires,
Be angry, if you sought to know
More than Daphne bid me tell you.
Or how can you, on t'other side,
Be sure she would not have you come?
Since then you may perhaps be thought
As guilty should you stay; Proceed:
For tho 'tis faulty oft to dare,
'Tis always criminal to fear.
Your silence shews that you're convinc'd,
And your conviction promises success.
Come, follow me, I'll lead the way.

Amint.
Ah, stay a little.

Thyr.
Stay! You know
Time flys us.

Amint.
Prithee let us think
A little more of what we have to do.

Thyr.
We'll think a little more then as we go.
Come, you may alter if you tarry,
Things too much thought on frequently miscarry.

CHORUS.